Title: Fifteen Months

Author: fairytalemanipulator

Summary: He hesitated before allowing her a glimpse without the mask. With a slight sneer, Malfoy called out to her. "You could come join us, you know, Weaselette." Draco/Ginny

A/N: This is not your typical Mary-Sue-ish weird D/G story. I am committed to sticking to canon as much as possible, and I did that here. This story inspired me and I hope it inspires you. I already have it written out, so it's up to you guys if you want more. Please review and tell me what you think with this odd pairing that I don't usually do!

--------

Chapter 1: Six Months

The second time she saw him was six months after the war, and while the wounds were no longer fresh they needed only a slight stretch to reopen. It was a cold, cold day and she wrapped her scarf around her face in an attempt to block out the blustery wind blowing down Diagon Alley. The parcels in her hands kept her from placing her fingers in her pockets, and she felt the tips go numb as she carried her weekly shopping to the nearest Floo. Clumsy as always, she rounded a corner at full speed intending to get away from the weather, only to run into something as solid as a brick wall and topple over backwards, arms flailing for balance. She landed hard on the cobbled ground and groaned as involuntary tears pricked at her eyes. The scarf had flown off her face in the scuffle and she felt her nose immediately go cold.

Shiny black shoes presented themselves in front of her, and she looked at the parcels that were once again neatly stacked on each other in his arms, blocking his face.

"Can you get up?" The man asked her, none too gently, and Ginny murmured a yes before furrowing her eyebrows at the familiarity in that tone.

Wincing, she got to her feet, scarf dangling loosely around her shoulders. She extended her arms and the man placed them, carefully, back in their place. She turned to thank him and gasped as she came face-to-face with the one person she certainly wasn't prepared to see.

Draco Malfoy didn't look any older. If it wasn't for his haunted eyes and his slightly more muscular build, she would have thought they were still at school. As it was, Malfoy's eyes narrowed at her recognition of him and turned on his heel, walking without a backwards glance as his cloak whipped around his ankles.

"Wait!" She called out, biting her tongue as soon as she called it out. What was that for?

He stopped without turning back around, his shoulders held defiantly. "Yes, Weasley? I have errands to do, can't be your nursemaid today,"

She was surprised at the bite that was still present in those words, eyebrows raising. "Just wanted to thank you, Malfoy, but I see that's beyond ridiculous for me to say,"

"Yes, it would be, wouldn't it?" And he turned for a second, just a second, enough so that she saw the face of a troubled young boy from Hogwarts again. Then he Disapparated with a crack, leaving her alone, freezing in the middle of the street. Balancing her parcels with one hand and her knee, Ginny hopped around while retying her scarf around her face. Continuing on her way to the Floo, Ginny remembered the last time she had seen the Malfoys, at their hearing. Crowds upon crowds of witches and wizards, young and old alike, had turned out to hear the verdict. Contrary to what she had expected, it was silent, utterly quiet in the public courtroom which Harry had told her was exactly where he had his trial for misuse of underage magic.

The Malfoys had spent the better part of a month locked away in an undisclosed location both for their own protection and because the Ministry had absolutely no idea what to do with them. It was public knowledge now that Narcissa Malfoy had saved Harry Potter's life, and the magical world was curiously indebted to her. The Malfoy family's dissent from the Dark Lord was also debated, with many good hearts feeling the pain that the parents must have felt at their son's position and concern for his safety.

Now the question was what was to be done about the situation; they were all considered Death Eaters, but there was dissent among the Wizengamot about what punishment was to be doled out.

When the three Malfoys entered the courtroom, head helds high, not a single noise was heard. Not a boo, not a catcall, nothing. The silence seemed to unnerve them more than anything, and Ginny saw Draco look at his father for reassurance before sitting in the magical chair with golden chains.

Curiously enough, none of the chains bound the Malfoys. The Wizengamot murmured in observation of this feat, as it was unheard of that Death Eaters were not contemplating a single murderous or runaway thought.

Ginny, however, kept her eyes on the youngest Malfoy, thinking over what Harry had told the Order after the war. He looked haggard, as if he was living meal to meal. His robes were still immaculate, but he looked tired, and closed his eyes briefly in anticipation of the expected onslaught.

Harry and Hermione were testifying on his behalf, the Wizengamot announced. He hid his surprise well, and Ginny caught the twitch of an upper lip in what was probably an involuntary grin at thinking of the backwards nature of their positions. Ron, of course, was being Ron and holding his grudges until the very last and Ginny couldn't well blame him—after all, it was Malfoy behind some of the worst things that happened at school during their years there.

However, they weren't at school anymore.

And none of them wanted to see him go to Azkaban.

Surprisingly, Hermione had gone to visit him once through the Ministry on official business for the Order. Why she went, no one knew, but she came back with her mouth set and determined to keep them out of Azkaban.

"It won't help anyone, Ronald! The war is over, and the Malfoys have confessed their involvement under Veritaserum, and openly declared their allegiance for our side!" She had exclaimed with her hands over her ears as Ron shouted on and on about the Death Eater, the git, the bloody bastard that almost killed Katie Bell and was the reason Dumbledore died, and so on.

"He called you a Mu—you know what, 'Mione!"

"Yes, thank you, Ronald," she had said in a clipped tone, rolling her eyes. "Think beyond me for a moment. Did Malfoy ever actually kill anyone? He threatened Dumbledore but couldn't even follow through with that, not even with his parents' lives hanging over his head. He didn't even try that hard to get to him, although the necklace situation with Katie and the poisoned mead were a bit much. His prejudices were learned, not engrained, Ron. I've known for a long time, as I suspect he has as well, that he doesn't feel superior to those of different blood. He was born to be a Death Eater, and he couldn't do it. We can't put ourselves in his shoes, or his father's, but think back on the brainwashing, the terrible things he has to have seen, and the fear he must have felt."

Ron was silent, training a calculating gaze on his shoes.

"We won't ever forget what they did, Ron. But we have to forgive. For the future."

Ginny didn't want him to go to prison either, she had realized. If there was ever a young boy who got dragged into a mess he was raised to become, it was Draco Malfoy.

And that mess was currently staring at her from inside Flourish and Blotts, as she stood outside in the cold, mouth wide open, reliving memories as they hit her like a wave.

Quickly, catching his confused glare, she snapped her jaw shut and turned around, heading to Madame Malkins to use her fireplace, but once again without warning she turned back to the bookstore, spinning round on her heel in indecision.

Malfoy's eyes widened as he realized she was coming back, and he looked comically frightened, probably of being Bat Bogeyed again, Ginny thought fondly, smiling at the thought. Perhaps I should, just for old time's sake—

The bell hovering above the door tinkled as she entered, seeing Malfoy in the corner by the window, entirely nonplussed.

"Weaselette, I know I'm devilishly handsome, but following me is getting a bit odd, don't you think?" He droned with sarcasm dripping through his baritone voice. She rolled her eyes and marched forward, shopping still in her arms, scarf still around her neck. He backed away into a corner, putting one hand on what she assumed was his wand inside his jacket.

"I'm warning you, Weasley, I have no tolerance for this personal vendetta thing," he began angrily, eyes frantically searching for a way out. The bookstore was nearly empty, but he was willing to use a human shield if necessary from this undoubtedly insane young witch. "I will not hesitate to hex you back, understand?"

"I'm not going to hex you, ferret," Ginny huffed, coming to a stop almost nose to nose with the older man. He blinked, searching for words.

"Well—what the bloody hell do you want, then?"

"How have you been, Malfoy?"

If Malfoys allowed their jaws to gape in astonishment, this would certainly be an ample time for it. As it was, he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and dropped his wand.

"Erm—" He was tempted to make a snide comment, then remembered this was Ginevra, the infamous hothead of the Weasley family, and decided to go the safer route. Besides, she was obviously mentally unbalanced. "Fine, I suppose—and yourself? "

Ginny smirked, a smirk so close to his own that for a minute he thought he was looking at himself in a mirror. "So he can be civil! Just wanted to let you know I'm glad you aren't rotting away in Azkaban, even though you're a right proper git, and while some of what happened last year was your fault, your life and your family's life was in danger and I reckon I would've done the same thing."

With that, Ginny threw him a dazzling smile and turned around, her nose pointed high in the air.

"Weasley,"

His gravelly voice made her turn once more, almost losing her footing on the slippery tile of the bookstore. "Yes, Malfoy?" She wasn't expecting a poignant, tearful remark of gratitude and wasn't surprised when she didn't receive one.

"The next time you feel it necessary to follow me—" He stopped, attempting to put a bit of malice in his words. "Don't."

Ginny raised one eyebrow. "Surely you can do better than that?"

He was still fumbling for words when she walked out.

Malfoy was, to put it simply, confused. Garnering looks from the few patrons that were still in the store, undoubtedly looks of Merlin help us it's the evil ex-Death Eater, he picked a book at random and tossed a few galleons at the woman sitting at the counter, barely hearing her squeal. He exited as well, slightly curious as to where the Weasel was off to now, but refusing to acknowledge it.

She intrigued him. Why should she not hate him as the rest of the Wizarding world did? He rather feared for his life every time he left the Manor but refused to hide out like a refugee, preferring instead to take his chances with a wand stuffed inconspicuously in his jacket pocket.

But Ginny Weasley didn't fear him. He remembered her from school, the once-quiet little girl grown up to a fiercely loyal young woman with fiery red hair that matched her temperament.

----------------

He remembered her from the war, in the haze of memories that he was still trying to sort out. In a cowardly attempt at saving himself, had hidden himself in a corner for the majority of the battle. He watched, unseen, from his position as Death Eaters were slowly but surely being eliminated, and wanted to scream with fury that his plans never worked, his parents would surely be killed by Voldemort and the good side couldn't win, Voldemort was too strong, and why couldn't they just pick the winning side so they didn't have to die? They weren't even adults, involved in a life and death fight, and where was the justice in that?

And then he saw Ginny battling, her wand out, tracing intricate spells and charms that had most certainly been taught to her by Granger.

Earlier in their school days, he had wondered why she had to be a poor blood-traitor because he would have certainly shagged her by then if she wasn't.

During the war, he found himself breathless with hope that her, and even her bloody stupid friends, got out of this alive.

He was hit with the monstrous stupidity of his every action right when the tapestry he was hiding behind was ripped out from in front of him.

---------------

Malfoy hated reliving those memories, and found himself standing at the Manor with no clue or indication of how he had gotten there. Feeling lucky for not being splinched, he shook off the old memories and drew his cloak closer to his shoulders. Feeling a weight in his hand, he looked down at the random reading selection he had made. Flipping it over, he read the title with amusement and a strong sense of irony.

Cooking: The Muggle Way!.

Brilliant.

--------------

Tell me what you think, and I'll publish the next chapter! Please review!