It's not like I never noticed her before. No, nothing like that. We'd shared some nasty comments, some brutal blows; but nothing concrete, nothing to base feelings upon. And to this day, I think our relationship had the aspect of fate to it.

My father called the entire situation nothing more than the desires of two naïve children, with star-struck feelings and well-meant but immature words upon our tongues.

Her mother called our love a mere childish fantasy, a rebellion. Not substantial in the least, and at the most infatuation.

Even though many people had their say as to what our relationship was, everything, to me at least, amounted to determinism.

Though essentially fate, determinism lacks the mystical, superfluous wonderment of all, that fate embodies. Romeo and Juliet were fated. Ginny and I were determined.

I remember sitting besides her on the underground one day, and feeling a sense of despair; I never felt as if I'd fallen in love with her of my own free will. It always felt as if someone had placed a blindfold over my eyes and led me to the proverbial altar. I had the sudden urge to fight, but I was reigned to a halt and with a flick of the switch, the moment passed.

She sabotaged us. Ginny finished what little semblance of an innocent relationship we had with the single kiss she gave to Potter on our wedding day. She ended us. And Potter ended her. But I, I have yet to be ended. The words 'the end' have not been written on my life as they have been on hers, even though so many have tried. So many.

But 'the end' was never part of my life until her.



I was smiling. I remember that day so well because my eyes were squinted from all of my smiling. I couldn't help myself; the flowers were beautiful, the day was beautiful, and my bride was beautiful.

Ginny had insisted our marriage occur in the backyard of the Burrow. I had grudgingly agreed; her family never did accept me, though as of late they've changed their communal opinion.

The large oak trees were covered in tiny light spells, which danced in the dusk. I had requested the light spells because of the tradition in my family: any Malfoy man who married a woman without light spells in the trees to illuminate all secrets was doomed to be murdered by his wife. My mother had insisted on large, gauze-like white tents. The tents were tied at the four posts, leaving the atmosphere within airy and exotic. Ginny's family demanded a series of large round tables as opposed to many smaller ones so everyone could eat with the newlyweds. My father demanded gourmet chefs to prepare the meal, though I know for a fact that Molly Weasley snuck in a dish or two. Ron Weasley was the one to suggest a live band. I, for one, had opted for self-playing instruments or a hidden band, but Weasley was determined to have a stage with a live group. Grudgingly, I admit it was an excellent idea. Harry Potter brought the idea of paparazzi-free party to the table. Which was highly astonishing as no Malfoy wedding had been press-free since the fourteen hundreds.

Later, I discovered why he wanted it press-free.

Ron was also the unanimously voted toaster at our wedding.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice booming as he stood. The others in the tent fell silent, and watched with half-lidded intoxicated eyes. "I'd like to make a toast," he began, turning to us, "to my sister."
"I'm sure most have you have heard the bouncing ferret story," Ron said. The laughter roared and I fought to keep from smacking him. Ginny smiled apologetically at me. "As children, Ginny and I would secretly amuse ourselves with stories from the 'Bouncing Ferret Collection,' which will someday be written and enjoyed by all." More chuckles.

"And… I remember the day, when I asked Ginny if Malfoy the Ferret should be turned purple or pink, and she called me insensitive and slapped me across the face." I joined in the laughter. "It wasn't until three months later that I found out she and The Ferret had been sharing more than angry words. And when I did, I believe all hell broke loose; of you'll excuse the cliché. I was convinced Ginny had done nothing more than set herself up for heartbreak."

All eyes were riveted to Ron, and he appeared quite flustered. "And then… I saw them together. Really saw them. I watched how caring he was to her when he thought no one was watching. I saw how innocent she looked when he held her hand. I felt like an idiot for yelling at her so much; they were obviously made for each other. I watched them move in together; watched them buy a plant together-" More laughter. "-Watched her face glow as she flaunted that rock she's got around her neck now," he said, indicating to Ginny. "And now, on her wedding night, I'm sure we can all see the light in her eyes and the smile on her face. And so I've just this to say."

Ron raised his glass, and looked directly into my eyes. "To modern day star-crossed lovers that you are, may your marriage be as long lasting as the Bouncing Ferret story and as beautiful as this night's sky." There was much clapping and applause as people raised their glasses and toasted one and other. Ron came to Ginny's side, and she hugged him from her chair. Ron hugged her back, but looked me in the eyes, as if to say that she was mine to protect. And I felt a sudden honor at being trusted by her older brother.

As dinner winded down, the band began an upbeat jazz song, which prompted many people to haul my bride and me out of our seats. We danced, and danced, and danced without interruption. Until Potter cut in.

By the time Harry actually cut in, half the dinner guests were gone, leaving only close friends and close family. I questioned Ginny with my eyes, and she half nodded, so I left her in Potter's trustworthy hands. I stepped off to the side, joined by my childhood friends and nowadays associates Crabbe and Goyle. We were laughing about the recent plunges many new companies had undergone, when I looked out to my wife. My wife.

She was happily in Potter's arms, and he was certainly holding her close. I fought to keep my feet planted as I saw the way Potter was gazing at her. He whispered something, and she smiled and looked to her feet, before she glanced back at him and murmured something in reply. Potter grinned, and pulled her closer to him. He dropped her hand and linked both hands on her waist. My heart was racing and my palms began to sweat, but I had faith in Ginny. I had faith that she would pull back.

Ginny had known since day one that Harry Potter was not my favorite person. She had known that I felt a sort of inane envy of him, never mind that I had everything he wanted. Ginny had always been careful about what she said about Harry, and about her feelings in the past for him. The first time she had told me that she had been in love with Harry, I put off asking her to marry me for two years. I almost didn't, until she swore to me that Harry was in her past, and nothing tied her to him. Nothing.

And the bastard kissed her.

He slowly leaned forward, hesitating halfway through, and then continuing. At first, Ginny's eyes were wide, but she closed them, and caressed the side of his face.

It was a nightmare I relived every night for the next seven years of my life and sometimes I still feel the chilling pain of that moment in vivid detail. The sting of that betrayal, on my wedding day no less, had never left me.

As slowly as it happened it ended. Only, Potter was the one who pulled back. Ginny sadly bit her lip and hugged him. She whispered something and shook his head, but he pulled back and gave her a reply with a smile. The clock chimed midnight. According to the plan, Ginny and I were to apparate to Italy. Ginny let the loose embrace between her and Potter fade as she scanned the crowd for me. Her eyes lit up when she saw me, and I forced myself to put on a smile; the last one I smiled for the duration of our pitiful marriage. She rushed over to me and took my hand, and we waved and said our goodbyes, before I pulled my wand out and took her hand. Mine was cold and clammy, hers warm and dry. I whispered the spell, and we appeared in our hotel room in Rome.

And then, all hell really did break loose.


"Today was so wonderful!" Ginny exclaimed, throwing her arms around me. I pushed her back.

"I'm sure it was," I sneered. She stared questionably at me.

"What's wrong, Drake?" she asked. I think it's best to say I snapped.

"You fucking slut," I whispered.

"Draco?" she asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. I slapped it off, and turned on her. I was much taller than she was, at least seven inches, even when she was wearing those heels.

"You think no one saw you with Potter did you?" Her face clouded and tears gathered in her eyes. "That wasn't my-my fault," she whispered. I shook my head.

"I was watching, Gin. I was watching," I hissed. I leaned over her. "You knew exactly who was kissing you. It wasn't a sudden thing, that's for damn sure! Hell, Potter ended the fucking thing, not you! Not you, not my wife. Even though he had nothing to lose, you sure as hell did. Or am I now nothing to you? Why the fuck did you lie to me, Ginny? Was this whole relationship just for shits and giggles? 'Oh, don't worry Harry-dear, Draco won't realize we're carrying on behind his back!'"

"Draco stop it!" Ginny screamed, holding her hands over her ears. I grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands away from her head.

"Why? Does the truth hurt you that much?" She was crying. Her beautiful brown eyes never held the sorrow that they did in that moment. And I immediately knew why she did it, why she married me.

"I'm just a pity case to you, aren't I?" She looked away. "Look at me!" I demanded, shaking her so she stared me straight in the eyes. "You married…" I was choking on my words. "You married- me, because you knew I was in love with you. But… but you carried on with Potter all these years… haven't you?" She numbly shook her head. She was answering a rhetorical question incorrectly. "Haven't you!" I screamed. Her sobs broke through.

"No…" she whispered. I released her, and she fell to the ground sobbing. I walked backwards until the back of my knees hit the bed, and I fell into a sitting position. I fell hard.

I remember staring at a spot on the ground, just staring. The wood had knotted, distorting the colors around it. It was ironic; at least it was to my fogged mind. The only thing that was coming to mind was that Ginny had married me, and in the process had discolored my life forever. And I hated her for it. Hated her.

She was still sobbing on the ground when I finally stood up, maybe two hours later, and pulled a pair of jeans out of the dresser. Someone had unpacked our bags. I grabbed a shirt lying next to them, pulled off my tuxedo and pulled on the clothes.

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked, her voice hoarse. I couldn't look at her.

"Somewhere you aren't," I replied. I pulled my ring off and grabbed my wand off the dresser. I turned and for a second, I couldn't think.

Ginny was sitting on the ground, her dress pooled around her and rivers of blue-black mascara trailing down her once porcelain pale face. The tears left blood red lines in her skin, as if she has scratched her self. Her cheeks and nose were red from crying, but I couldn't stay with her. My very being wanted to hold her, but the atrocity she'd committed against me ended that thought in the water. I blankly tossed my wedding ring onto the ground beneath her shaking figure. And I apparated away with her screams for me to stay in my ears.



***

I know, I know, Draco and Ginny belong together. I believe it as well, but I think we all need a lil' something to mix it up, ne? I *heart* reviewers!