Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

(a/n: a Halloween fic written for Boogum, with the request that it be DG and involve pumpkins.

I may have gone overboard with the pumpkins.)

...

For a good five minutes, all Ginny could do was stare at Draco. She couldn't believe this, and to find out about it now almost felt like a deal-breaker. Even though she'd already married him and was ridiculously in love with him. But she was still sure that if she'd known this before the whole marriage thing, she would have seriously reconsidered it all. Never mind that Narcissa probably would have killed her. Or that her own mother would have helped her.

It was just so very, very wrong. Utterly wrong, and the words he'd said felt like someone had just doused her entire childhood memories with freezing cold water.

"It's just a pumpkin, Ginevra. You really do not need to pull that face," Draco said, frowning at the expression on her face.

"But, it's pumpkin carving! How have you never done it before?"

"Can you honestly imagine Mother dirtying her hands to carve out a pumpkin?" he drawled, rolling his eyes at her.

"Well, no, not really," she admitted a moment later. "But it's pumpkin carving, Draco. Every single witch and wizard in the world has carved a pumpkin!"

"I seriously doubt that," he said with a smirk.

Ginny ignored his response and stood up suddenly, her cutlery clattering on the dining table.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, deeply terrified of that all-too familiar glint in her eyes.

The last time he'd seen that glint ... well, he couldn't fault her victim, but Potter could never stay in her presence for very long anymore. It was a remarkably handy way to get out of the excessively Weasley-fied holiday seasons, all red and gold and suffocating hugs that lasted far too long. While Arthur and Molly had eventually come around to his marrying their only daughter, they preferred to spend time with Scarhead rather than him. As Scarhead couldn't stay in the same room as Ginevra without his body starting twitch after five minutes, it was all too easy for Draco to excuse himself and Ginevra from most of the Weasley festivities.

"Inky," Ginny called, breaking her husband out of his thoughts, and he returned to looking at her warily. "I need two whole pumpkins, two knives, and two spoons."

"Oh, gods. Ginevra, I really do not need to do this," Draco said, sighing.

"Yes, you do! It's a very important childhood experience; one that you should have had!"

"As I have told you before, I am quite happy with the childhood experiences I did have, and have no desire to add to them with these menial tasks."

"You. Are. Doing. This."

He instinctively crossed his legs, his body reacting to her tone before his mind registered the act.

"Oh, bloody hell," he muttered, throwing his cutlery on the plate and standing up to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" Ginny growled.

"To change shirts. If, as you insist, I have to do this, then I refuse to ruin a pure silk shirt in the process."

"Oh, okay," she said brightly, her demeanour changing immediately. "I'll be on the back porch."

Ginny Apparated, and Draco sighed, turning to leave. In the corner, the house elf was trembling, his blue eyes as wide as saucers. Inky could tell that his Master didn't want to do this, but Mrs. Malfoy had requested items to make his Master do it.

"Just get her the damned things," Draco muttered.

With a pop, Inky disappeared, and with a heavy sigh, Draco Apparated to his wardrobe to find something that wasn't silk. He had a feeling that this would be a very messy task.

...

Ginny was adamant that Draco would enjoy this task, and for the first fifteen minutes or so, she'd been enjoying herself too. Then it had happened. Draco's pumpkin, which had been properly scooped out with his spoon (she'd taken his wand the moment he Apparated to the porch), fell apart as he attempted to cut his design into it. As much as she loved Draco, dear gods the man could sulk. Draco would say that he was a Malfoy and he wouldn't stoop low enough to do such a thing, but he definitely knew how to glower and pout and get short tempered, a.k.a. sulk.

Hurrying to get another pumpkin from Inky, she suggested that he try a less ... intricate design. She had no idea what he'd drawn on the pumpkin in the first place, to her it looked like nothing more than a series of squiggles and dots, rather than the masterpiece she was sure Draco was hoping for.

With another pumpkin at his mercy, Draco all but attacked this one, aggressively sawing the top off. Ginny watched with a slightly amused expression as he drew on the pumpkin again, his eyes flicking to her and adjusting the pumpkin so she couldn't see what he'd done, and then set about scooping it out again. Grinning to herself, Ginny returned to her pumpkin, which was beginning to turn out quite nice, if she did say so herself.

Another ten or so minutes went by, and a curse exploded from Draco as his pumpkin collapsed. Ginny ordered another pumpkin, and the vicious cycle continued until they were both surrounded by pumpkin skeletons, and Inky informed them that there were was only one pumpkin left. By this time, Draco was sitting on the porch steps, his arms folded and resting on his knees as he glared out at the setting sun.

"If you tell me what you're trying to draw, I might be able to see why they keep collapsing," Ginny offered, moving to sit beside him.

"No," he replied shortly. "It was a stupid idea, and I told you I didn't want to do this," he muttered, not looking at her and continuing to glare at the world.

"Just because your pumpkins didn't turn out, it doesn't mean you can be a prat to me!"

Draco didn't reply, his jaw set and tight.

"Oh, you insufferable git! You can keep sitting there and keep sulking; I'm going inside."

"Not sulking. I'm ... brooding," he muttered.

Rolling her eyes at him, Ginny headed inside.

"Would you mind giving me my wand back?" Draco said, glaring at her now.

Ginny threw his wand at him, and despite the years since playing as a Seeker, he still had fast enough reflexes to catch it before his wand hit him on the head.

Moments after the door slammed behind Ginny's exit, Inky appeared on the porch and began to pick up the remnants of the pumpkins.

"Do you really have to do that now, Inky?" Draco muttered at the house elf.

"Inky will make lots of pumpkin juice and soup from these and Inky did not want them to be thrown out accidentally," he replied, his voice trembling.

Draco was quiet for a moment, then he grinned, shaking his head gently at a fond memory. "Ginevra likes pumpkin bread, make some of that too, would you?"

Inky blinked quickly, surprised at the request. "Of course, Master Draco," he said, hurrying to disappear with the smashed pumpkins before Draco changed his mind.

Sighing to himself, Draco looked over at the last damned pumpkin. He was a Malfoy, and he sure as hell didn't have to do this. But, as much as he didn't want to admit it, it had been fun, even when the pumpkins broke. Standing up, Draco rolled up his sleeves and started to work on the pumpkin. He wouldn't let a stupid vegetable get the better of him.

...

Ginny was plotting her revenge on her sulking husband when she heard him knock on their bedroom door. Ginny pretended to be asleep, but Draco didn't open the door and come inside as she'd expected. Sitting up, she waited for the whole of twenty seconds before her curiosity overcame her. Listening intently, Ginny concluded that he'd simply knocked and left.

Unless he was standing there waiting for her to come to him? she wondered, glaring at the door for daring to be solid.

Another twenty seconds passed, and Ginny relented, opening the door a crack to determine what was happening. Draco wasn't in sight, and with a frown, Ginny stepped out onto the landing. There was a soft glow coming from the staircase, and she went towards it cautiously. It was a tiny pumpkin, barely big enough to fit in her palm. Picking the pumpkin up carefully, she saw a single letter carved in it's skin: I.

Looking around, Ginny spotted another small glowing pumpkin at the bottom of the staircase. Deciding to humour Draco and to satisfy her own curiosity, Ginny headed downstairs to pick up the next pumpkin. The letter A was etched into this one, and she was next pumpkin (M) was in the lounge room, the only light burning in the usually well-lit room. Ginny found the fourth (S) in the library, the fifth in the sitting room (O), another in the corridor leading to the back porch (R), and the final one on the porch itself, with second R carved into it.

Certain that the next letter would be a Y, Ginny looked around for another pumpkin, but there was no telltale glow to reveal it's location. Stepping out onto the grass, she continued to look around in the dark.

It took her a few moments to realise that it shouldn't have been dark. All of the rooms in the Manor were well lit until she and Draco went to bed, and at her mother-in-law's mention of ancient curses and Lethifolds, Ginny's usual curiosity was dampened considerably and the lights damned well stayed on. With her realisation, she turned to face the Manor, only to see a soft glow in her bedroom window. Apparating immediately, Ginny stopped in front of the door, a small grin on her face as she knocked. Downstairs, in the west-facing rooms, the house elves were opening the drapes once more, the legend of the Lethifold not one to be challenged on Halloween night.

Fifteen seconds after Ginny knocked on the door, Draco opened it, holding the final pumpkin in his hands, the letter Y carved and glowing.

"I am sorry, Ginevra. You were right, I shouldn't have..." he began to apologise.

Ginny kissed him, stopping Draco's apology mid-sentence. He could tell her how right she was another time.

After placing the pumpkin on the fireplace mantel, Draco let his wife lead him to their bed. He'd show her the finished design on the back of the pumpkin later.

...

The end.

Hope you liked it!