Every great love story has to start somewhere. This one started in the kitchen. (Bella Martha)
Ginny was in a very bad mood. She had been from the beginning of the year or, to be correct, since the moment Harry, Ron and Hermione had left to head out into the world and fight evil. Left her here to keep going to school like a silly little girl. She hated every second of it. Sure, she used to love school, but right now, there were more important things than history of magic and the transformation of pillow cases and chandeliers. Of course, the lessons had been somewhat adapted to the new situation, and they were learning things from a more practical approach, especially in Defence Against the Dark Arts and charms, and every student from the third grade up had to take a basic healing class.
Still, Ginny just knew she should be out there, fighting, or searching, or doing – well, anything. And she had a right to be out there, more than any other person, because more than most other people she had suffered under Voldemort.
What was even more infuriating was that the teachers had decided to celebrate New Year's Eve. That had been the last drop in the bucket. People were dying out there, people she knew, maybe her own family or friends from the order. And the students here had nothing better to do than shoot fireworks up in the sky that sickeningly resembled curse flashes. Ginny felt like crying, or kicking and screaming. Instead, she decided to go down to the kitchens and steal a bottle of cooking sherry to get hopelessly drunk. She knew there wouldn't be anyone down there, as the entire school was outside celebrating. A rather foolish thing to do, really, what if someone attacked the school? A little voice in the back of her mind spoke up: "Being drunk isn't exactly going to help you in the case of an attack either, you know", but she pushed it aside and walked on, arriving at the entrance to the kitchens and tickling the pear in the portrait to open it.
Ginny went straight to the cabinet where she knew the cooking sherry, wine, brandy and other alcohol that could be used in the kitchen was stored. Yes, this was not her first excursion to the kitchen. She'd done the same thing on Halloween, her birthday and Christmas. Actually, Ginny was beginning to suspect that she had a drinking problem, but so far, no one had noticed anything. After all, drinking was a much healthier way of dealing with her troubles than getting possessed by dark wizards, or permanently smashing her head in on the Quidditch field. There was no Quidditch this year anyway, because at least three teachers would have to attend each training session to protect them, and that was just impossible. So, looking at it rationally, there was really nothing left in Ginny's life. Being good at school seemed somewhat worthless, her Quidditch career had moved way out of sight, and her family couldn't care less about her. After all, they had their own problems, what with the order being the only ones left to fight Voldemort, and Bill still recovering from the werwolf attack.
Ginny had never before felt so lonely, useless and bored, and so it was no surprise that she got really angry when she noticed that all the bottles had disappeared from their usual space. She quickly searched a few of the others cabinets, before banging the doors shut in frustration. After all, it wasn't as if anybody could hear her.
"You couldn't be looking for this, now, could you?"
Ginny nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard someone speak from the darkest corner of the kitchen, and she whirled around, only to be faced with a smirking Draco Malfoy. He was holding up a bottle of their best (and strongest) Sherry, sitting at a table in the corner, all the bottles she had been searching for lined up in front of him.
"What are you doing here?"
"Celebrating the new year in the same way you wanted to. That is my right as a free, grown-up person."
"I'm not so sure about either one of those, really. Sulking here on New Year's Eve is not a very grown-up thing to do. And I hardly believe free persons would be hiding from their father and his cronies at Hogwarts."
He let out a dry laugh, then pulled out a chair next to him and waved for her to come over.
"Very funny, really. Witty as always, Weasley. But, as it is a very festive evening and a good opportunity to forgive and forget, I will invite you over to my table." She hesitated.
"Come on, there's enough for the both of us. We have rum, sherry, port wine, brandy, white and red wine and scotch. All of them are half-empty, but there's still enough to get good and drunk."
"I know." It just slipped out of her, making him grin for a second.
"Been here before, haven't you? Well, I've been wondering all year how you handled it all. And now look at that, we both have the same method of dealing with problems, it seems. What's your favourite?"
She tried to keep up her façade as long as possible.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, stop playing the insulted lady. I noticed you know your way around the kitchen cabinets. And I don't want to drink on my own, so stop being such a wuss and sit and drink with me."
She sighed, grabbed a glass from one of the shelves, and sat down next to him.
"That's a good girl. So, tell me, why are you not out at the fabulous New Year's celebration?"
She shrugged and poured herself a glass of rum.
"I didn't feel like it. Do we have orange juice?" He pointed to a bottle.
"Oh now, don't give me that vague "I didn't feel like it" excuse. What exactly is bothering you?"
Ginny hesitated for a moment. This was Draco Malfoy after all, arch nemesis of the Weasley children, the person who used to insult her on every possibility that presented itself. Then again, since he had joined the order last summer, they had formed sort of a truce, and he had actually been fairly civil to her these past few months – not that they had talked much. Ginny figured she didn't really have anything to lose, so she blurted out:
"It's bothering me that they're celebrating when there's a war going on. It's bothering me that the people I love could die any minute and I wouldn't be able to do anything about it. It's bothering me that everything I hoped for in life is very far from happening right now."
"I agree with you on the third one."
"What about the other two?"
"Well, yes, there's a war, but there's not much these students could do anyway, so you might as well let them celebrate. And for the second thing – not much to tell there, I guess."
Ginny nodded and got silent, pouring herself a second glass of rum and orange juice.
"But what bothers me the most is that sitting around here uselessly makes me forget what I believe in. You know, why I'm on this side." She looked at him pensievely.
"Why are you on this side, by the way? And why did you return to Hogwarts?"
"Fear, most of all. And a feeling that there has to be something that's more fun than killing and torturing people. I mean, if you look at it objectively, Voldemort is a joke."
"Yeah, a joke. About as funny as a Molotov cocktail."
"A what?"
"Muggle thing. So, you did not all of a sudden see the light or have a vision telling you that you should be on our side?"
"No. It's not like your side is all that great, either, it's just that the others have even less to offer."
"What about money and power?"
"Ah, I've been there, and believe me, it gets pretty boring after a while. Plus, girls dig good guys." Ginny laughed out lout.
"Well, good, sweet guys like Harry, maybe. I don't think any of the girls here like you."
"And whose fault is that?"
"Well, tell me, what would girls find to like in you if they made the effort of getting to know you?"
"Lots of good qualities. I'm intelligent, good-looking, funny, self-assured, a good flyer, brilliant at hexing… and I can charm a girl's pants off!"
"Oh really."
"Yeah, do you want to be charmed a little? I have to warn you though, you will not be able to resist me."
Ginny snorted into her drink, noticing the glass was half-empty, and instantly refilling it with rum.
"I really don't expect that to happen. Years of abuse and insults from you should have made me immune to your charms."
"We'll see. What about you? Now that your boyfriend has taken off to save the world, isn't there any poor Hufflepuff out there that you could use to distract yourself with? Surely boys are interested in you. Or are you waiting for Potter's return?"
Ginny chuckled, slightly stung by the mentions of Harry's departure, but mollified by the alcohol she had consumed.
"Oh no, I'm definitely over Harry. But all the other boys are usually intimidated by me. I mean, I fly better, I'm better at school, and I have six brothers to beat them up if they hurt me. Plus, I'm not willing to play the dumb bimbo and pretend to be a helpless little girl just so they can feel superior to me."
"Do you want to know a secret?" He made an artificial pause. "I never really went for the girly, helpless kind. I mean, sure, I sleep with them because they put such an effort into their act, but it's not interesting. Girls who talk back are interesting, girls who challenge me, fight with me and throw hexes my way. I need a girl who is equal to me. The problem is that this kind of girl usually hates me."
"I can see why."
"Of course you can. You are that type of girl."
"Are you saying you regard me as challenging, and equal to you?"
"Of course. You are a pureblood after all." His answer was the result of the old way of thinking that came automatically to him, and she knew as well as he did that it didn't really mean anything,
"Is that really important?" she asked, and he couldn't help but shake his head.
"No. I guess it's not."
They both fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence, watching snowflakes fall in front of the dark kitchen window – the only light inside came from a three-armed chandelier on the table – and occasionally pouring themselves another drink.
"Do you ever wonder if you've got what it takes to be out there right now?" His pensive question pulled Ginny out of her drowsy reverie.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, look how my last effort to kill someone turned out – an utter failure. What if the same
thing happens when I'm in a duel? What if my opponent is someone I know?"
"You mean like your father?" He laughed bitterly.
"Oh, him I could kill without thinking twice. He has really done enough, to me and to the world." She looked at him intently.
"Oh boy, I don't even want to imagine what your childhood must have been like."
"Like growing up on the bottom of the Hogwarts lake – cold, uncomfortable, and under a lot of pressure."
"What about your Mum?"
"She's okay, I guess. We never really talked much. She distracts herself from my father's general meanness by shopping, getting her hair and nails done, redecorating the house and inviting people over for afternoon teas and dinner parties. It is what she was born and bred for after all. I mean, when she was 14, her parents told her that by the end of her seventh year she was to be engaged to a suitable pure-blooded boy and that the actual lessons were not as important as the "social bonding" she was to indulge in." Ginny shuddered.
"That's exactly what Tonks' Mum told us about her education. I can't believe they still act like they're nobility."
"You know, that could have been you as well. I mean, as much as I hate to admit it, your family does have a very impressive bloodline."
"I know. I'm just glad my parents decided to turn their backs on that lifestyle and become the shame of the wizarding nobility instead." Now it was his turn to look at her.
"Don't you ever wish your family had the money and lifestyle your name used to earn them?"
She thought about that.
"Sure, I guess it must be nice not to wear old jumpers of my brothers and cloaks that are five inches too short, or to use quills until it's impossible to read anything because everything's smudged. But during my childhood, I don't remember a single moment where I was unhappy about our situation. And honestly – did your growing up as a rich kid make you any more happy?" A shadow flitted across his face for a second before he grinned.
"Maybe not, but it surely helped me with the girls!" She punched his arm playfully.
"Do you ever think of anything else?"
"Of course. I just try to keep those thoughts as fleeting as possible. And you know what helps? Alcohol!" He grabbed the bottle of port wine and refilled their glasses.
"You said the things you hoped for in life didn't work out. What did you hope for?"
"I don't know exactly, but I would have loved to play Quidditch professionally, or maybe become an auror. If there was peace, I'd find myself a nice guy, settle down and have a family. I guess I'm the type of person who wants it all."
"That's not all. That's barely even the basis equipment. I mean, wouldn't you like to be somewhat famous or admired?"
"Maybe, but I imagine it to be pretty annoying after a while."
"Then wouldn't you like to be rich? To know what it's like never having to worry about money?"
"Well, I guess I'd like buying pretty dresses and attending fancy dinners. But I don't actually need it in order to be happy. I've grown up fairly poor, and yet I've never had to worry about anything. I want just enough money so that my children will never have to worry about anything, and that they'll never have to miss something they really need. That's enough. But tell me – what will you need to be happy?"
He was silent for a long time, thinking about it.
"I'd like to be able just to do whatever I want. I've always had to do things other people expected of me – my father, my house-mates, Voldemort…. Even now they dictate me to hide here helplessly. I think as soon as this is all over, if I live to see that day, I'll take off. I'll travel around the world, maybe even disguise myself as a muggle. I'll just stay somewhere no one knows me and be free as a bird. Yes, I think I'd like that." Despite his pensive words, she laughed out loud.
"Hah! You, disguised as a muggle? I'd like to see that…" He wondered if he should be offended by her tone, but then decided she was right to be so surprised. An idea popped into his head, and before he even thought twice about it, he was blurting it out.
"You know, there's a way you can see that."
"What do you mean?" He noticed she was slurring a bit, but he didn't tease her about it – after all, he couldn't be much better off as he had already lost count on his drinks. She couldn't be far behind on her drinking, and so far, she was holding her liquor well for a girl her size.
"I mean, once this is all over" his arm swiped once around the room in a rather vague gesture, but she seemed to get what he meant, "why don't you come with me? We could pretend to be muggle backpackers, and travel around the world. I've heard that is a very popular way to travel with young muggles. We could get away from the wizarding world for a while. To be honest, I am getting quite sick of it." She looked at him, wide-eyed and stunned, and he quickly poured her a glass of brandy which she downed in one big gulp. Then, instead of laughing as he had expected her to, she extended her hand.
"Ok. Let's do it. At the end of the war, the two of us will travel the muggle world." He hesitated for a split second before he took her hand and shook it.
"Done." As if on cue, all the clocks in the castle started to chime midnight, fireworks went off and students and teachers wished each other a happy new year. Ginny and Draco still sat there, hands clasped, looking at each other.
Finally, when the noise died down, Ginny carefully extricated her hand, stood up, and staggered to the door. Before she disappeared, Draco heard her slur:
"See you at the end of the war then. And have your backpack ready."
With that, the door banged shut behind her, leaving a very confused, but slightly less depressed Draco behind in the empty kitchen.
Only now did he notice that she had left him to clean the mess they had managed to make.
"Stupid Weasley brat" he muttered before he began picking up half-empty bottles and glasses.
Six months later, after the celebration of Harry Potter's victory over Lord Voldemort, a very confused Weasley family watched as their little daughter shouldered a heavy muggle backpack before walking off to the bus station in Ottery St. Catchpole with Draco Malfoy dressed in muggle clothing and carrying similar luggage. That was the moment they all realised that, even though they had won the war, nothing would ever be quite the same again.
A/N: This is just an idea that popped into my head. Maybe I'll turn this into a bigger story, but so far, there's not plot planned. About the quote in the beginning: I know there's no actual love story in there, but it's going to happen eventually. This is my take on their first friendly encounter.