A/N: This chapter was originally two separate chapters, but after struggling with it for like a half an hour, I decided it should just be one chapter. Otherwise, they'd both have been too short for my liking. I donno. Weird. Bah.

Poor Ginny. I think I started making both of them out of character... oh god... BAD JESSA BETH!!!! AAH!!! I think I made Ginny too weak, and Draco too soft. This is bad. Bad, bad, bad. Wah.

OH WELLS! ENJOY!! YAYYYY!!!


An echoing slap and reverberated through Ginny's memory, and she felt Draco's hand on her cheek again, frightening her into a half-waking state. Someone soft and gentle was kissing her neck. "What—?" she blundered in confusion as lethargy pressed on her heavy, closed eyelids. She yawned widely, and stretched. Her hand lightly collided with someone's soft messy hair, and she smiled into her pillow.

"Happy birthday, Harry," she sighed comfortably, opening her eyes slightly to squint at him. He was smiling fully at her, and his green eyes were so bright with complete adoration that she felt suddenly dizzy.

He leaned forward, and kissed Ginny's forehead. "You're right," he cooed. "It is my birthday. What do you think we should do about it?" Grinning mischievously, he nuzzled her playfully. Something fiery in his gaze set her off, and, running her fingers over the simple lightning scar on his forehead first, she kissed him passionately.

"Now, Ginny?" he asked her incredulously with a laugh as her hands began to travel down his body and caress him in intimate places.

She groaned, letting her arms fall limp again, but she was still smiling. "You're right," she squeaked. "It's too early. I'm so sleepy!" She yawned, her point proven. She snuggled close to Harry, who wrapped his arms lazily around her.

Giggling, she reached up again, and tangled her fingers into his black hair. She was sweet in her stroking motions, and adoring in the gentle kisses that she began to plant along his neck and collarbone. "Mm," Harry groaned at her touch. "I love you, Ginny."

Her heart ached from the tenderness with which he said the words. Her mind felt numb with guilt. The knowledge that she was sleeping with Draco Malfoy behind Harry's back made her insides hurt dreadfully as she stared into Harry's eyes and felt her love for him confirmed. "I love you, too," she sighed, before rolling from his grasp and sitting upright. "So," she said enthusiastically, "does nineteen feel any different than eighteen?"

Harry laughed. "Not really," he yawned.

Sliding from bed to put on a comfortable dress, Ginny asked, "Got anything particular you wanted to do today?"

"Oh, I don't know," he sighed, sitting up as well, "but I thought that perhaps we could spend some time together, y'know… maybe take Teddy out, or something, then later you and I could go to dinner."

She smiled. "That sounds nice." He stood, and her eyes raked his naked chest. As he pulled on a pair of pants, she slipped behind him, and wrapped her arms around his body, letting her fingertips scrutinize his smooth chest. His soft hands closed around hers, and she could feel him leaning back against her. She pressed her face to his shoulder blades, and inhaled the delicious scent of his tender skin. They stood that way in comfortable, loving silence for several minutes, until at last Harry made a sound.

"Ginny," he whispered, "I'm going to put my shirt on, okay?"

"Oh, right. Okay. Sorry," she said disappointedly, and slid her arms from around him.


Teddy's hair was a vivid blue when Ginny and Harry arrived at Mrs. Tonks' home. "Oh, Teddy!" Ginny cried, lifting the child from his highchair. "Blue, today, is it?"

She kissed Teddy on his nose, and when she pulled back, the blue had gone, and his hair was jet black. His face was freckled, like Ginny's, and his eyes the same brown as hers. She giggled, and stroked Teddy's silky head as Harry took him from her, hugging him close. "Oh, Teddy," he was saying, "I am so fortunate to have a godson like you." His smile was so warm, Ginny couldn't help but feel it contagious, and she smiled as well. Then Harry whispered to the child in his arms so that Mrs. Tonks could not hear what he said. "And you are fortunate that I am not in Azkaban for the murder of your parents."

Ginny laughed, but supposed that it was lucky Teddy didn't fully understand Harry's statement.

Mrs. Tonks let them take Teddy, and they agreed when she told them to have him back by late afternoon.

Little Ted was a joy to keep with them that morning. His tiny hands were gentle and soft upon Ginny's face as they clung to her cheeks so sweetly. She was warmed by his small form's presence. She felt made to be with children, and at that feeling, she thought of Draco, and how well the evil man took to him, and how happy the little boy had seemed to make him.

Teddy loved Zonko's. He reveled in the mad toys and prank objects that Harry presented to the boy. His scream of delight was sugary and charming, and it appealed greatly to the maternal instincts that dwelled inside of Ginny. The child looked like theirs, like a breed of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, and it was such a strange wonder to think she may in fact have one like it. Her fingers twirled around Harry's, and they linked then at the hands, their happy palms embraced while Teddy rested in Ginny's arms. From the store they wandered, hand in hand, to the diner that had once been Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor.

They ate with calm chatter on their tongues, and their fine words of love kept Ginny's mind at bay from thoughts of the man she knew she should abandon. Still she thought of Draco, and her skull was surely aflame as it pounded so to think of him. It ached and throbbed, but still she stayed upright, though she had half a mind to collapse with guilt and grief. Perhaps it was the heat.

"You don't look very well," Harry pointed out, his brow pressed into an expression of sympathetic concern.

"She never does, Potter," drawled an unwelcome tone to make her heart stop.

Ginny felt faint. If she looked did in fact look slight, as Harry said she did, she felt it even more strongly than he thought, and even more so when Draco's wan face spun to view.

"Malfoy," Harry said curtly, nodding his head to the man who stood above their table, though it was clear from the glint in the green that his eyes were not expressing kind reunion, but rather annoyance at the other man's mere existence.

Draco sneered. "Potter," he replied in greeting. "I've heard the happy news that you and the youngest Weasley are getting married." A horrible smugness appeared upon his contrastingly ashen expression. "Preparing to make lots of little Potters so that you both can die when they're a year old, too?"

Harry was on his feet. Ginny clung protectively to Teddy, who had already begun to snatch at the air for Draco. She noticed his grey eyes glance fleetingly to the toddler in her grasp, and she thought she might have witnessed longing flit through them for just an instant before he turned back to Harry, who was already fuming.

"Harry," Ginny warned, trying to forget Draco's hands… trying to pretend they had never felt her, that they'd never taken her and claimed her more times that Harry ever had. "Harry, it's only Malfoy. He doesn't deserve a fight."

"Yeah," Draco smirked, his tone soaked through with madness, "listen to the little weasel: she knows what she's talking about." His eyes turned to her, and their gazes caught. She was breathless, her heart beating furiously against Teddy's back as she squeezed him tightly to her breast. His eyes shone bright, hypnotic silver as they bore into her, and her lips fell slightly apart, unwillingly, so she could draw an impossible breath.

"You're right, Ginny," Harry agreed through gritted teeth, still seething at Draco, "He's just not worth it."

Draco gave a small haughty chuckle. "Oh, so you just trust her right away, do you? You're just going to stand there and take whatever she tells you?" Ginny clung to Teddy. He wouldn't, she told herself. "You're just going to stand there and not question her about what she says and does?"

"I don't feel the need to control women, Malfoy, unlike you."

Her heartbeat was painfully fast, like a hummingbird buried within her chest.

"Well maybe she needs a little control, Potter," Malfoy hissed, his voice low, and his eyebrows raised in overconfidence. "A pretty girl, so poor… you never know what a little slut like that is doing every night, right behind your back."

Wands were drawn in a flurry of anger and hatred. "DON'T YOU DARE CALL HER THAT!" Harry shouted. People in the little outside diner were turning their heads in shock, staring at the two men. They had their wands at each other's throats.

Ginny stood, too, Teddy being shuffled into one arm so her other hand could extract her own wand. "Expelliarmus," she cried, pointing her weapon at both men. Two wands flew into the air, and into her hand. She held them tightly in a furious fist. Her expression was so formidable that both enraged men seemed to cave under her glare, and shut their mouths. Draco lowered his empty hand, thrusting it gruffly into his pocket, and turning his nose up at her. She hated how well he knew her when she saw him in this setting, and she could feel all her old dislike of him come flooding back to her. His cold and calculating stare made sure she felt it now, like they were back in school, and she wanted to burst—to simply explode with sudden rage, to scream, to throw things into Draco Malfoy's stupid, evil, cocky, interfering face. "You're pathetic," she told them both in a forced calm. "Both of you: Stop being childish, and get over your petty grudges so you can live your lives again!"

"And you," she rumbled directly to Draco, "are a particularly pathetic, slimy little git. Get out of here." She handed him back his wand. For several moments, he merely looked at her. She remained stubbornly furious, though it felt as though his piercing silver eyes were raping her. At long last, he turned, the swish of his cloak mocking her as he went.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Harry said, still panting with fury. "I lost my temper, and I'm sorry."

She almost hated that he was apologizing. Draco never apologized. He never apologized for teasing her, or for using her body, for making her bleed, for tying her up, hitting her…

"Don't be sorry to me, Harry. It's your birthday. I'm just surprised you'd let someone like Draco Malfoy get to you like that." She mentally kicked herself for what a hypocrite she was being.

"I know," he said, sounding ashamed, "but I couldn't let him talk about you like that… I just couldn't." His eyes were glistening at her, and she felt herself breaking under their penetratingly romantic stare. Shame was gripping her as she thought of the fact that there were a truckload of other things she knew he would never let Draco do concerning her, but half of them he was already doing, without Harry having even a clue.


That night was torrential agony. Upon arriving home after having dropped Teddy off at his grandmother's, Ginny conjured up a birthday cake, and handed Harry the gift she had gotten him. As the night pressed on, and Ginny did not have Draco upon her, she began to feel ill. She had told him she would meet him, but here she was, with Harry, and not with Draco. Her skin felt hot and deprived as she craved his brutality, but sat upon hers and Harry's bed unsatisfied. Harry wanted her, but she just felt pained and guilty to let him have her anymore. She was restraining herself, caging in her desire, and it was making her sick. She had thought she could do it—thought she could handle not going to meet him when she said she would—but it hurt. She could imagine Draco standing in Knockturn Alley hopefully, waiting for her, that sneer still present on his cruelly beautiful face. She could imagine his annoyance that he had been stood up by a Weasley, his frustration that he cared, and then his raging exit. She could picture it all. But… would he care? Would he really be so annoyed, or was she fooling herself to believe he cared about her?

Unreleased sobs were making her ache and choke, and she felt suddenly nauseous. She and Harry were sitting at the table in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place, and she felt so dirty while she looked at him, knowing what she'd done, and knowing what a good life she could be leading with Harry if she didn't have her energies spent on the dreaded Draco Malfoy. She hated Draco so much right then that it hurt violently.

"Are you okay, Ginny?" Harry asked her suddenly. "You look kind of ill."

"Uh… no, actually," she admitted, avoiding Harry's gaze. "I feel sick. Sorry, Harry." And at that, she stood, and retreated to the bathroom on shaking legs.

Ginny pulled down the toilet's cover, and sat shakily upon it, staring down guiltily at her feet. She wanted so to leave Draco entirely… to give him up, and just return to being fully Harry's. "Yes," she whispered to herself. "I must."

She nodded silently to herself. She felt decided. She doubted she could do it, for her entire body was pulsating with a fixated need for him, but she had to. "I have to leave you, Draco," she whispered.

A knock made her jump. "Are you alright in there, Ginny?" Harry's voice called through the closed door.

"Yeah," she lied in a raspy voice. "I'm fine, Harry. Thanks, though. I'll be out in a second."

She stood, determined at last to ignore the existence of the man who she had only been with for several days, but who had already become the drug she found she needed and craved.


Sunday passed harrowingly slowly. She had survived Saturday night, though her mind had many times betrayed her—cogitating over the possibility of sneaking out to hunt Draco down. She was proud that she had not done it, that she still remained by Harry's side the next day, but by Monday, she was exhausted with the strain and stress of keeping it all in. George made a point to inform her that she looked terrible—again—but she brushed him off, and spent her day fantasizing as she sold things. She must have had a dazed look upon her face, because several times, customers asked her if she was alright, and she'd been forced to give them a false, simpering smile, and wave them off with a sickly sweet "Have a good day!"

Ginny left that night feeling anguished and desperate. She walked from the shop slowly, taking her time to wander down the cobbled street. Her steps seemed to be moving forward on their own, though her thoughts were cautious. Should she go back to Knockturn Alley? Should she wait in the street, here, to see if he would come? Why did she care? As it was, her logic got the best of her, and she turned on the spot, but saw a distinctly silver pair of eyes watching her just as she disappeared into the crushing air.

Tuesday could not come fast enough. She had seen him there in Diagon Alley again… she was sure of it. Would he come again? Seeing him again, waiting for her, wanting her, had made her lose the logic that had strengthened her to disapparate that night. Hope that she would see him again was what got her through the day. She didn't know how George was able to do it every day, but she found that having something to look forward to—like Draco's hands on her—certainly helped her pass the time.

She was out of breath by the time she found him. It wasn't hard to find him, however, for he had been waiting for her. They stared at one another, their eyes demonstrating their apologies silently. Ginny's hair fell messily down her back, and her neck was sweating beneath the scarlet curtain. She was feeling very self conscious under Draco's knowing glare, and it made her notice everything about herself: Her hair was a mess, she was sweaty, her nails were uneven and unkempt, her feet probably smelled bad, and she felt kind of bloated. She knew she must look disgusting as a whole, and her mind couldn't help racing through all these things as she stared at Draco, whose icy silver eyes seemed to consume her.

"Draco," she finally croaked, shoving her self-depleting thoughts from her mind, "why are you so cruel?"

He blinked at her, his lips thin as they pressed together in thought. When they parted, they seemed stiff, as though they had not spoken in a very long while. They were dry, and she saw him lick them once before speaking at last. "I'm sorry for what I called you," he said.

She crossed her arms. "I can't believe you would honestly go that far. You were making me crazy, saying all those things to Harry."

"I'm sorry," he said again. He looked uncharacteristically solemn, and it invoked an undesirable sympathy within her.

Trying to ignore it, she sighed. "Why did you have to say that stuff anyway?"

Draco straightened his posture, and looked down his pointed nose at her, glaring. "I'm still me, Ginny," he hissed, "even if your first name is a part of my vocabulary."

"Right," she snapped, "so you'll just always hate me and Harry. I'm sorry; I forgot Malfoys don't have normal human emotions!"

His haughty, arrogant expression melted suddenly into an ice cold glare of painful confusion. "That's not true," he whispered. She watched his chest rise and fall as he caught his breath to speak again. She looked directly into his eyes, but they glanced away from her then, staring at a point near her shoes. She curled her toes self consciously as he went on. "I don't… I can't…" He swallowed. "I can't hate you anymore, Ginny." His voice was barely above a whisper, but she heard him.

Were her veins really frozen? Did her heart really stop? Was she even still alive? She could feel her body standing there still, and feel herself breathing shallowly where she stood, but she could not be sure that it was real. If Draco Malfoy didn't hate her—a Weasley—then who was to be certain of what was real and what wasn't? The entire world felt upside down, all because of him.

She must have been speechless with shock for a long time, because Draco was suddenly saying, "Ginny? Are you okay?"

"Uh…" was all she could get out. It hadn't been such a big deal. Why was she taking it so deeply to heart? "Yeah. Just…" She didn't know what else to say. "Yeah," she said again.

"I realized it on Saturday," he sighed. His hands were buried in his pockets, and he looked almost ashamed. "As it turned out, I didn't like to see you so angry. On Sunday I realized that I actually wanted to apologize. Then yesterday I had a mere glimpse of you, and I realized that…" His voice broke as he finished, "I missed you."

Her insides seemed to have evaporated. She had no response to his abnormally sentimental words, except to lift herself upon her toes, lean forward, and place her lips tenderly on his.

Draco's mouth was soft and warm, and sweeter than she remembered. He took her in his arms as her knees weakened and gave way, and with his lips still embracing hers, he disapparated.

When she felt fresh air again, she pulled away from him to look around. They were at the Hogs Head again. "We really need a better place," she breathed into his open mouth. His exhales warmed her face as he breathed on her, and she smiled.

"We do," he agreed quietly, but rapped the top of her head with his wand to disillusion her. They slipped inside, and took a room from Aberforth, who glared suspiciously at Draco, clearly wondering why a Malfoy would need a room in his pub, of all the places in the world.

Inside the private room, Ginny felt Draco's wand on her head again, and then they were kissing again. They spoke no words as they undressed and fell together upon the bed. He took her shamelessly again, and she was groaning madly beneath him. She took it as respect that he drew no blood, and as she felt herself reaching that ecstatic acme of pleasure, Draco sighed, "Ginny," into her hair, but otherwise said nothing.

"Draco," she whispered in the comfortable moments afterwards. "Why don't you hate me?"

He breathed deeply beside her. "Because you make me feel," he admitted calmly, the honesty of this statement chilling Ginny to the bone, but warming her heart. "Why didn't you stay away?" he asked.

Ginny gave a small, hollow laugh. "Being with you," she confessed, "hurts; it hurts, and I love it. I guess I'm just a sucker for pain."

She sucked in a sharp breath of surprise when he unexpectedly scraped her bare breast with his fingernails. "So I've grown fond of you," Draco stated simply, "and you've grown to love what I do to you." He began to gently kiss her neck, and her eyes rolled. Against her skin, he mumbled, "I guess we're bonding." She shuddered against his mouth's caress of her throat, collarbone, and shoulder. Quite suddenly, however, he pulled away, and stared her in the face. "So is this what we're doomed to?" he sighed. "Is this how we're going to live our lives: In this secret freak show of passion, and never anything more?"

"I really don't know, Draco," Ginny whispered. "I really just don't know anything about what I'm doing, or why I'm doing it. You make me crazy, and you're messing up my life, but…" She snuggled into his chest. "I love the way you make me feel, and I don't want to stop feeling that."

"What is that?"

"I don't know," she admitted sadly against him, nuzzling his soft, pale skin.

Draco sighed, and she felt his chest swell and release beneath her head. His heart was beating fast beneath her ear, and it was making her feel sleepy to listen to it, like a beautiful, natural lullaby. She thought about the things this man had done. She thought about the people hurt in the wake of his arrogance, and the lives lost because of his pathetic cowardice. Her fingers clutched him to her, as though to protect him from her own thoughts. He felt remorse: Wasn't that enough to redeem him?

She planted a kiss upon his chest, and she felt him tremble. "Ginny," he said softly, "tell me about the future."

She looked up at him. "What?"

"Tell me about the future… a good future."

Ginny was surprised, but she didn't oppose the command. "Um… okay." Several white-blonde strands of Draco's silky hair were plastered to his calm, sweaty face. A serene smile lingered upon his lips, and his eyes were closed comfortably. Never before had she seen him more at ease, or more vulnerable. "Well, in a good future," she began, unsure of what to say exactly, "Um… there'll be no fear, and no need to hate. There won't be any such thing as 'blood status,' and everyone will live in harmony." Draco snorted incredulously, but still looked peaceful, as though her voice were calming him. "In a good future, you'll learn there's such a thing as love, and learn not to always listen to your bonehead of a father." Draco's smile widened. "I'll stop working at my brother's shop, and play Quidditch for the rest of my life, and you'll realize that money really doesn't mean anything about a person. Maybe you'll even work."

"Doubtful," Draco sneered, his eyes still closed, and his face still placid.

"Well, in this future, you do. Oh, and you have lots of beautiful children who love you, and who you treat loads better than your father treated you."

"Yeah?" he questioned, an eyebrow raised. "Well I hope the mother has the sense to leave me and take the damned kids with her."

Ginny smacked him on the side of his head, and he jerked his eyes open, laughing. He rolled over, tackling her to the bed, and silenced her attempted squeal with a passionate kiss. When he pulled back, she was breathless. "So, am I in your future?" he asked her meaningfully.

"I don't know, Draco," she sighed, brushing his hair with her fingers. "You make everything difficult."

"Why, because you're still in love with Saint Potter?" he spat, his face suddenly furious again.

She felt anger flare within her. "Yes," she said firmly, "I am! Why… are you jealous, Draco?" This question was meant to tease, and she had not been expecting his shaking hands to fly shamefully to his face, nor for him to roll back onto the bed beside her, looking confused.

"A little," he admitted quietly.

"Oh," was all she could think to reply. All her anger deserted her as she wondered about the man beside her. He was a criminal… an ex-Death Eater… a Malfoy! But he was displaying feelings for her—a Weasley!


A/N: REVIEW, PEOPLE! I LOVE YOU!! Pleeeease let me know what you think! This chapter gave me issues, so please let me know what's going on with it!! Thanks!!