The Rose and Its Thorns
Disclaimer: The words are mine, but the Harry Potter universe and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling, et al.
Content Notes: In the story's universe, Draco spent the last year of the war as a spy for the Order and he now works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE), but few people trust him. Six months ago, he and Ginny became partners to solve a difficult case and they've since formed a tentative friendship.
Ginny lifted the blossom from her desk with a speculative glance towards her partner. The blond head remained bent and his eyes fixed on the open book before him. He'd barely raised his gaze at all since she'd walked in and even then, it had only been to greet her, but she hesitated less than a second before she interrupted, "Any idea who left this rose here, Malfoy?"
"If I had to guess, I'd say Moreslock." His lips quirked and his words emerged in a drawl less arrogant than amused, "I did tell you our boss has a thing for redheads."
It wasn't the answer she'd hoped for, but it was the one she should've expectedand would've, if not for her own, irrational hopes. She and Draco had only shared the office for a few months: they were barely friends, and they'd never be anything more. The first and only time they'd kissed, she'd been drunk on champagne and chagrin and afterwards, she'd been so embarrassed that she'd acted as if she didn't remember the trip from the Ministry party to her flat. Whether for his own sake or hers, Malfoy had played along and he hadn't shown any interest in her since. Of course, he'd never been interested—he'd had his hands around her waist that night to steady her and he'd only pressed his lips back against hers to be polite; Ginny just wanted to make more of it because she was a silly bint with a sillier crush.
Stifling a sigh, she laid the flower down again. A couple months ago, she hadn't wanted a relationship and hadn't expected to want one for a while because her break-up had been messy, and she'd been devastated. Then Harry had arrived at the Ministry Yule party with the same woman he'd kept as his mistress while Ginny stupidly awaited a proposal and with the happy, new couple in the same room and the promise of a nasty headline the next day, she'd resolved to move on more-or-less immediately. She'd been prepared to do so with Draco Malfoy because at the time, he'd been the nearest and most eligible bachelor in sight. Her opinion should've changed after the alcohol wore off, but Ginny hadn't been able to put her infatuation aside. She knew it made no sense: there were plenty of smart, handsome men with decent senses of humour and simple self-preservation dictated she should pursue any one of them, as none of their fathers had tried to kill her. However, she only felt a spark with Draco and until it disappeared, she'd have to pretend she felt nothing. Taking a seat behind her desk, Ginny said, "I doubt Moreslock likes redheads as much as you think and even if he does, he's no fan of mine these days."
His laughter surprised her and an answering smile curved her lips. They'd started taking bets on how much longer their boss would wait before he pulled her aside for another "chat"—and what tactics he'd use to persuade her that Mafoy was a "bad seed," unworthy of her time or empathy. If he held out for another two weeks, Ginny stood to win dinner at Merlin's Beard, but even she doubted her boss could wait that long. However, Draco didn't make the joke she'd expected him to; in fact, he made no further reference to Moreslock or to their gambling. "Well, you have no shortage of possible admirers, Weasley. Just pick the one with the least imagination, poorest taste, and easy access to our office."
"Poor taste, Malfoy?" There was an edge in her voice, but she didn't care. She usually let his barbed remarks and backhanded compliments slide, albeit with a pointed look because she'd endured far worse from him at school. Ginny didn't see the point of picking fights now that Malfoy made an effort to keep his ill-opinion to himself, but she had to draw the line someplace and his comment had stung. "How do you figure that?" she pressed. Draco might have considered her beneath him because she hadn't been born with a silver spoon in her mouth or to a family with the same outdated values as his own, but her parents and her brothers had more honour and more courage than all the money and pure blood could've bought Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Even if he couldn't appreciate that, other people could and did.
Ginny had a comment about his snobbery ready when he opened his mouth to reply, but Draco surprised her again: "Only a tasteless idiot would've bought a bright pink rose for a witch with bright red hair." After a beat, the tension drained from her body and her smile was warm with relief. She noticed then that Draco hadn't taken a proper breath since she'd parroted his words back at him and she wondered if her opinion mattered that much or if he'd just made a lucky save.
"Presumably he didn't intend me to wear it," she tossed back lightly.
"Even so," he said, as though that were argument enough. "The symbolism isn't worth the clash and it's terribly cliché."
If he thought so little of the rose, she could only imagine what he'd think of her gift for him and for a moment, Ginny thought she should leave it in her handbag, but the sentiment lasted less than a second. She'd never feared Draco's reactions before and since she didn't intend her box of chocolates as a token of affection, Draco could hardly claim either the symbolism or the clash undermined her intentions. "You've found every reason to disparage my flower, Malfoy, but I notice you didn't get me anything," she teased.
His gaze flicked back to his book before he answered, "My presence is a present." Ginny rolled her eyes, but before she could respond, he added, "but I did actually get you something else."
If she didn't know better, Ginny might've said he sounded nervous. "Other than yourself?" she clarified and at the affirmative sound he made, she grinned. "I got you something, too."
He blinked, as if he didn't quite believe her and then his lips quirked upwards. She reached into her purse for the box of chocolates she'd bought. "It's not much," she said, "but I know you like dark chocolate."
"I didn't expect anything and I'm surprised you remembered my favourite type of chocolate, Weasley. You hit upon my favourite brand, too; thanks." It sounded genuine, though she still found his smile a little difficult to read as she walked over to set her gift on his desk. He opened his drawer and pulled a thin, gold envelope from inside—a card, she assumed, but it was the thought that counted. In fact, the sentiment might've been worth more than a-
"It's not a card," she blurted. Draco smirked, his expression undeniably smug as he watched the emotions play across her face, but Ginny couldn't read anything more than satisfaction in his grey eyes. She wished she knew what on Earth he'd been thinking when he'd bought two tickets to the Weird Sisters' concert. "How did-? Did you seriously-?" she took a deep breath and shook her head, forcing herself to set the gift aside, "Draco, I—I can't accept these. They must've cost a fortune."
He didn't open his mouth to remind her of his wealth, but the expression on his face certainly did and he was firm when he said, "They're yours, Weaslette. Happy Valentine's Day."
"How did you get...?" she shook her head. It was a stupid question-money was the answer-but Ginny couldn't believe he'd dropped a couple hundred galleons on a present for her, especially one she'd had no right or reason to expect. She recovered her composure enough to say, "Why did you do this, Malfoy?"
"Probably for the same reason you bought me chocolate," he answered like a cat with a canary.
"We both know it's not the same," she retorted, "I probably spent a lot less time, effort, and money on your gift than you did on mine."
He shrugged, like he didn't see the difference, and he met her dubious gaze steadily, but her brow didn't smoothe until the Malfoy heir cracked—if 'cracked' you could call it. He still managed to look as if he had the upper hand and he spoke with such confidence that she couldn't believe she'd pushed him into it, "I thought you'd appreciate them," she wasn't sure if it were hesitation or a dignified pause before he added, "and I like you, Weasley. Nearly as much as I like custom and tradition."
She blinked. "Like" could've meant anything. It could've meant he enjoyed having lunch with her and trading jokes and sharing takeout over a particularly puzzling issue in the case. It could've meant he wanted more platonic moments just like those, and it didn't even have to mean quite so much. Draco might simply have seen the tickets as a way to repay his debt because they both knew he owed her, and a holiday was probably as good an excuse as any to offer a lump sum. He started to say her name-to explain, perhaps, but Ginny didn't let him get any further before she interrupted, "I guess it is the same." Her smile might've been a little forced because she still wasn't sure, and she didn't want to think Draco had bought the tickets simply to satisfy his sense of fairness. She hadn't asked Moreslock to increase his security clearance because she wanted expensive baubles or even because they were friends. She could tolerate the fact that he'd try to repay her with money because he tossed it at every problem, and treated it as the best of all possible solutions, but not on Valentine's Day and not with a claim that he valued her friendship-with the potential that he wanted more than friendship from her, that he wanted fancy dinners and clasped hands and the certain knowledge that she'd remember his kiss in the morning. It would be too crude and too cold and too cruel.
The Malfoy heir had returned his stare to his book after a moment or two and without meanign to, Ginny asked, "You like me as a friend, right?"
"I-" he raised his eyes briefly, as if embarrassed and nodded, "Yes. We are friends, aren't we, Weasley?" His lips quirked like he was confident, but she couldn't put as much faith in the half-smile as he so obviously wanted her to.
"Of course." Her smile was tinged with disappointment. "I just thought—I just wanted to be clear." The smile was brighter, falser, but she wasn't sure Draco realized it. She was glad he didn't.
"Clear or comfortable?"
Her forehead wrinkled, "Sorry?"
"Did you want to be clear, Weasley, or did you want to have the comfort of knowing I'm not interested in a relationship?"
She thought there might've been colour in his cheeks and his frown looked almost as perplexed as hers was. "Clear, Draco, just...clear," she assured him. "Why does it matter?"
"I," he swallowed, she saw the movement in his throat and she watched his lips press tight. "No reason." He shrugged. "I don't want anything to affect our working relationship. I appreciate all the—the progress we've made thus far and I wouldn't want anything to jeopardize it."
It had been the wrong thing to say, though he'd obviously had the best intentions. "Why should anything jeopardize it?" Despite her wary tone, Draco looked at her like she'd grown a second head and a flush crawled up her throat like fire.
"Assuming I were attracted to you, Weasley, how would you react?" She didn't—couldn't—answer him, though her mouth made every effort while her brain stuttered over the concept. "Yes, as I thought," he drawled wryly.
"I don't think surprise is such a bad thing," she pointed out, slowly beginning to hope.
"No," he agreed, "but discomfort would be."
"I wouldn't be uncomfortable, Malfoy," she argued.
"No?" Her defiant look answered his question, but apparently, it didn't make much of a difference, "I would be."
Evidently, her hope hadn't begun slowly enough, but disappointment crushed it with a swift and definite blow. She hadn't really Draco to admit he fancied her, but as rejections went, his was rather cold. Before she could tell him he had nothing to worry about, he said dryly, "I'm sure you'd be nice about it once you recovered from your shock, but there's nothing quite as embarrassing as rejection. Why do you think Fitzgerald transferred to the Department of Mysteries?"
She could've indulged in office gossip—she had a feeling he wanted her to-but instead she blurted, "I wouldn't reject you." The blush had started to fade, but it returned with vengeance when he made no reply. Once again, she'd let her crush get the better of her and Ginny dreaded what he might assume if she didn't mitigate the damage. "I mean, I'd at least give you a—a chance."
"Really?" If she hadn't spent the last few months as his partner, she would've called his tone hopeful, but Draco Malfoy was above such emotion. "In that case then, I do—I am attracted to you, Weasley, and I'd love to take you out to dinner sometime," he admitted with a tentative smile.
She might not have believed him if not for all the hedging, if not for the slight hesitation in his look, and for a second she wanted to ask when he'd planned to tell her, but Ginny knew she didn't have a leg to stand on. Her pleased blush would probably have robbed the words of their edge, anyway, so she simply smiled back. "I'm attracted to you, too, Malfoy, and I'm free Friday night." She thought she saw a gleam of triumph in his eyes as he crossed the room, but she didn't expect him to pluck the rose from her desk, flick his wand, and change the colour from pink to white.
"Much better," he murmured, tucking it behind her left ear and, without another word, he walked out of the room. Alone, Ginny brushed her fingers against the petals and a slow, secret smile spread across her lips. It shouldn't have been that easy—and chances were, it wouldn't be once they told their families and news spread to their friends, their coworkers, and, worst of all, the media—but Draco Malfoy had made it seem almost effortless and for now, she thought, it could be.
Author's Notes: White roses are associated with innocence and purity and they symbolize new beginnings. I wrote the fic on Valentine's Day 2011 as a present for my roleplay partner, Becca, with whom I created the universe in which the story takes place. It's my first Draco/Ginny fic and I always have a hard time with fluff, but I figure I should have some cheerful fic to my name. If you're interested, I've posted an equally fluffy sequel ("Journalistic Integrity") as well. Comments and constructive criticism are very much welcome and if you have any questions about the universe, please don't hesitate to ask. Thanks for reading!