A/N: Oh boy. Here is a chapter without sex, but oh my...this chapter and beyond... let me just warn you about eh INCREDIBLE amount of ANGST you are about to encounter upon reading this and the following chapters. Tut tut, oh well, if you're still here, I applaud you for your ability to sit through angst. I certainly can't do it easily with out freaking out.

Well, ENJOY!!!

"Hermione," Ginny cried. Her small fists began to hurt as they slammed repeatedly into the door to the flat she and Ron shared. "Hermione!" Was she not home? How could she not be home? She had spent yesterday afternoon and evening alone at Grimmauld Place, crying, before Harry had come home, and she'd had to pull herself together. Today, when Harry had left for Auror training, she decided on a painful whim to come here, to Hermione's flat, as opposed to meeting with Draco today. She knocked again and again, but no answer came from within. In desperation, she pounded again on the door. "Hermione, are you there?"

A crash sounded from within, and hushed voices were buzzing rapidly. "Hermione?" she called again, starting to get worried. She heard a tiny scream. "Hermione!" Ginny slammed her side into the door desperately, suddenly terrified. Paranoia possessed her, and she started throwing herself at the entrance. "Hermione!"

The door opened, suddenly, and Ginny flew through it, falling against someone slightly taller than her. A bush of brown hair fell in her eyes, and, spluttering, she looked up. "Hermione!" she squeaked. "I'm sorry, I thought… are you okay?"

She looked flushed. Her face was faintly pink, and she was fidgeting, looking restless. "I'm fine, Ginny," she said hurriedly, "I just…" But Ginny was already taking in Hermione's thin bathrobe, and noticing how it looked suspiciously like she was wearing nothing under it.

"Oh, Hermione, I… I'm sorry! Was I interrupting…?"

"No, really," she said distractedly. "Nothing was happen—"

"Yes, you bloody well are interrupting!" came Ron's irritated voice from a back room. "Go away, Ginny!"

Hermione's face shone scarlet, and Ginny's matched hers as she giggled, and looked away awkwardly. "Oh, Hermione," she sighed, "I'm so sorry!"

"It's really alright, Ginny," she laughed, still violently red. "You sounded really frantic at the door, otherwise I wouldn't have left him." She made a face. "He's just being clingy because it's his day off and he's a needy little git. Come in, though! You look terrible: like you've been beat up, or something. Are you okay?"

"Tell her to go the hell away!" Ron was shouting.

"Oh, shut up, Ron!" Hermione shouted back irritably. "I'll finish with you later!"

"God, I'm… I'm really sorry, Hermione," Ginny squeaked embarrassedly as she stepped over the threshold. "I really didn't mean to…"

"Don't be silly!" Hermione assured her quickly, cutting her off. "Now, what's up?" She gestured to a worn looking couch, and Ginny sat. Hermione sat next to her, clutching her rather revealing robe closely around her. Ginny could help blushing to notice this.

She swallowed, not entirely sure of where to begin. She didn't know why she was trusting Hermione. The woman was Harry's best friend, but she also felt like the only person Ginny could trust with anything. Luna was trustworthy, but her opinions were always a little warped. So she tried to begin with, "Uh… well… it's about…um… well, Harry and I are…" Nothing was coming out right. It felt like everything she said was going to sound terrible, and not in Harry's favor, but she didn't know how to phrase it.

"You and Harry?" Hermione questioned, her light eyes sparkling as though they knew already. "Is this about the wedding?"

Ginny nodded. "I love Harry," she decided was a good way to start. "I love him so much, but recently…"

"You've been having doubts?"

"Yes," Ginny said breathlessly, her hands twisting anxiously in her lap. "And I hate it. I just… I don't know if… marrying Harry so early is such a good idea." It spilled from her before she knew what she was saying, and it felt blunt and cruel once it had been said. She held her breath, watching Hermione's face soften as she gazed at her.

"Oh, Ginny," she sighed. "It's normal to get cold feet, I've heard."

"No," Ginny pressed. "You don't understand. I just don't know if the actual marriage was a really good idea at all! It's not just that I'm nervous, but I just… but I do love him! I've loved him for as long as I can remember, but… lately… things have gotten in the way." She hoped she was making sense.

"Well," Hermione said calmly, "I must admit, Ginny, that a better time to realize this would have been several weeks ago… not a day before the wedding."

"I know," Ginny moaned, putting her head in her hands. She hated this. It had been a terrible idea.

Just as she was contemplating leaving and telling Hermione to just forget it, she felt her hand comfortingly on her shoulder, and was reassured. She took a breath. "I know I love Harry," she whispered, "but I just can't really know anything for sure anymore. Things are so complicated, now."

"Why?" Hermione pressed.

She stayed silent, thinking. Should she tell Hermione about Draco? Should she tell her of the raging emotions for her enemy that she was storing inside of her? No. She couldn't. She shook her head, an involuntary squeak escaping her as the truth dangled frustratingly on the tip of her tongue, begging to come out. The silence between them was long and unbroken for several minutes except for the occasional impatient sounds of irritation Ron was emitting from the next room. Ginny's heart was hammering as she thought of actually confessing, actually telling Hermione everything: all the things Draco had done to her, all the things he was making her feel inside, and all the doubt he was provoking about her relationship with Harry. Quite suddenly, Hermione whispered, "Is there someone else?"

Ginny turned the question over in her head. There was someone else. There was Draco. This she would never admit. Her face must have betrayed something of her feelings, however, for Hermione sighed. "I won't tell Harry," she said quietly, her voice kind, sympathetic, and honest, "or Ron."

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Ginny gave a single, solemn nod as tears began to redden her eyes again. "Oh, Ginny," Hermione cooed, wrapping her arms lovingly around her. She was like the understanding big sister that Ginny had never had. She was raised among six brothers, and had always been treated like one of the boys by all her male siblings. They would never understand. She had no one but her mother, who she didn't think would be able to face the truth of her daughter's situation. Only Hermione would accept her.

"He," Ginny sobbed against Hermione's robe, "makes me doubt everything. I love Harry, but he makes it so hard to! He…" She sniffed. "…has become the only thing that makes sense anymore. I…" She was unable to go on. Her sobs were making her heave, and shake too violently to speak sensibly.

Hermione's arms were comforting. "Do you love him?" she asked, and it sounded like it hurt her to say the words. Ginny pulled away from her, gazing at Hermione with wide, watery eyes.

"Love him?" she cried incredulously. "Love him? I hate him!"

"But you have feelings for him?"

Ginny sniffed violently as she nodded. "I find myself caring about him. I find myself always wanting to be with him, even while I'm with Harry…" Her voice broke. "It's terrible," she finished at a whisper. Her eyes were puffy and red with sorrow, but she didn't care as she stared at Hermione helplessly, hoping she could give her answers.

"And you don't love him?" Hermione questioned her again.

"I…" she stuttered. "I… I don't… I can't…" She stood suddenly, horror flooding her as the possibility of this occurred to her so really and entirely that she felt nauseated. "I can't," she hissed. "You don't understand! You love Ron, don't you?"

She looked taken aback. "With all my heart!" she replied, her eyes soft but concerned.

"Well, how would you feel if someone you hated—someone you knew you were supposed to hate—came into your life out of absolutely no where and started being nice to you, seducing you, making you feel like you've never felt before, then started to question your relationship with Ron? Could you really love someone who'd question your love for Ron?"

Hermione's eyes were full of tears. "Love," she said sadly, her voice shaking, "can't be helped. It can sneak up on you even when you're the most prepared, and make you crazy. It's uncontrollable who you fall in love with, Ginny."

"BUT I'M SUPPOSED TO LOVE HARRY!" Ginny roared unwillingly, mad now with annoyance. "This is all wrong," she groaned, tangling her fingers in her hair. "You're not supposed to encourage me toward Dr—him… you're supposed to tell me to get away from him! To go back to Harry!"

"I'm not encouraging you either way!" Hermione cried desperately, standing again to be level with Ginny. "Harry is my best friend, but I'm encouraging you to stay with whoever you truly love!"

"What's going on in there? Why are you shouting?" Ron called irritably from the room in the back.

"SHUT UP, RON," Hermione yelled at him before turning back to Ginny with an expression of deepest compassion. "Ginny, look," she said quietly, "I don't know the details between you and this guy, but the way you talk about him…" She shook her head sympathetically. "Trust me," she sighed, "I know that there's a fine line between love and hate, but I'm not about to tell you how you feel. Only you can know if you really love this guy or not."

"But…" Ginny croaked, sobs threatening ominously to posses her again. "How am I supposed to know?"

Hermione sighed, hugging Ginny close to her again. "That I can't tell you," she said sadly. "You just… know, I guess."

"WHAT IS HAPPENING IN THERE?"

"SHUT UP, RON!" Hermione roared, letting go of Ginny to glare furiously at the closed bedroom door.

Ginny giggled through her tears. "You guys are really in love, aren't you?"

Hermione's cheeks went pink, and her eyes grew cloudy with emotion. "Madly," she whispered, a sweet smile teasing at her lips. "I mean, it can get difficult, because he's such an annoying little git sometimes," she laughed, "but I really do love him… more than I've ever loved anything in my entire life."

Sniffing, Ginny smiled. "When did you know?" she asked.

The bushy haired woman sighed dreamily, gazing into midair as she remembered. "When I was fifteen," she breathed. "I had no idea I'd want him so badly, but I did, and when he never asked me to the Yule Ball…" She suddenly laughed. "Well, I went a bit mad with it, then." Her grin was tender. "Like I said, these things really can't be helped, can they?"

"No," Ginny sighed thoughtfully, her heart strumming emotionally in her chest. "I suppose they can't."

Her closet was a mess, she realized, as she fumbled through it. She ignored her wedding dress robes and her new Quidditch robes as she flipped through the hangers and turned out the pockets of each robe she came across. She had to find it. Was it still here? Had she thrown it away by accident, or dropped it, or—her heart plummeted to consider it—had Harry found it? Her mind was racing as she reached into every pocket desperately, and her pulse shuddered to a halt when, at last, in the depths of one, her fist closed around a silky smooth piece of fabric. Clutching it tightly, she extracted it. It was slightly dusty now, having sat in her pocket, untouched, for a week or so, but it was still beautiful. She sat upon her bed staring down at the little cloth in wonder, turning it all over in her mind. What had Draco done to her in these past couple of weeks? Was it magic, or did she really…?

It didn't make any sense. Her entire face stung with tears begging to spill out again, but she held them in, gazing at the handkerchief. D.M. complimented the immaculate whiteness in clean, gold thread, and she stared at the letters longingly. She knew she wanted him. She could not deny that any more. But did she love him?

She couldn't. She couldn't love him. She thought of the reluctant despair that had possessed her when he'd told her she was nothing to him. She thought of how badly she missed his hands, his lips, and even his voice. She thought of how doubtful she was about marrying Harry now, of how right Draco seemed in that sense, of how good her own enemy could make her feel…

"I'm not falling in love with him," she told herself firmly, her eyes still tracing the shape of the teasing initials sewn into the fabric. "I refuse to."

Her hands were shaking as she held the handkerchief in her lap, her fingers lightly grazing the ornate D as they quivered. She didn't want to touch the M.

Malfoy, she thought bitterly. Yes, Draco was a Malfoy. Why didn't she remember that? Her use of his first name had polluted the truth that she was trying to keep focused on: he was a Malfoy. He's a Malfoy, and Weasleys and Malfoys don't get along.

But he was so different from his father, wasn't he? She countered herself, sighing as she gave in to that side of her heart. He didn't want to be like him. He had experienced things that would scar anyone, been forced into situations he'd never meant to get involved it, and his fondness for his father had dropped. He was nicer than he had been at school—sometimes… when he was alone with her, he was, at least. The way he smiled, she just knew he felt guilty, and the bags around his eyes betrayed the fact that he wasn't sleeping well. He was tormented by all that he'd done, and he wanted forgiveness: didn't that, on its own, redeem him? Hadn't Dumbledore always said that a person's choices make him who he is, not his blood? Her heart panged. She was fooling herself, trying to convince herself that Draco Malfoy could even be good, or could ever change, even for the sake of love.

"Love," she spat. "There is no love where he and I are concerned. There's only hate." Then again… hadn't Hermione just said: there's a fine line between love and hate? She had. Was it true? Had her hate really morphed into something…? But it was impossible. It was Malfoy, for crying out loud! If Hermione had known who she was talking about, she never would have been so quick to talk about love. This was so much different than the hatred Hermione and Ron had shared for so long. Their love had been obvious from the very beginning. But Ginny and Draco… this was something different altogether. This was sick.

Ginny shook her head madly, closing her eyes to the sight of Draco's handkerchief on her lap. "Stop it," she told herself angrily. "Stop talking about love. You don't love him. You can't love him. He's nothing. He doesn't matter. He's unimportant. You have Harry."

And at these words, she heard the front door clicking open. Her heart throbbed, and she stuffed the handkerchief anxiously inside the pocket of her shorts, her nerves aflame with guilt as Harry came in looking tired, but glad to see her.

She lay away that night, caught in a downpour of conflicting emotions. Lying beside Harry's sleeping body, she could feel him radiating the warmth she so loved to feel from him, but at the moment, she didn't want to feel it. She wanted it to stop. She wanted him to stop loving her, so she could stop feeling guilty for not loving him as loyally as she should. She pressed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but it didn't work. She covered her ears as though that would stop Draco's voice from echoing tantalizingly in her head. "Go away," she whispered under her breath to the silent night. "Please, leave me alone." It didn't work. She shook her head, and buried her face into her pillow, her palms still pressed desperately over her ears. She let out an involuntary whimper, biting her lip. She wanted Draco to stop haunting her. She wanted Harry to stop being so sweet. She wanted it to not be so wrong to want Draco.

Before she knew it, she was no longer lying in bed, but standing in her white wedding dress robes. Her hair was done up, lace draping over it delicately, and in her fists she held a bouquet of a variety of dazzlingly beautiful flowers. She smiled as she walked down the isle, and all heads turned to her. She saw Hermione and Ron gazing at her, though Hermione looked pained, and she saw Fred and George sitting in the front row, applauding her—both of them. Harry stood by Professor Dumbledore, who wore robes of a dark green. Draco stood opposite him, on Dumbledore's other side. Both Draco and Harry wore the most handsome of dress robes, and both looked stunning.

When she reached them, she was grinning. This was perfectly natural. This was how everything should be. Dumbledore looked happily at her over his thin, half-moon spectacles. His brilliantly blue eyes were twinkling at her as he smiled. "Do you, Ginevra Molly Weasley, take this man to be your magically and lawfully wedded husband?"

"Uh…" she looked at Harry and Draco in turn. "Which one?"

"That," Dumbledore said mysteriously, "is for you to decide."

"But… I can't!" she cried at him. The crowd was looking at her accusingly.

"You're supposed to choose one!" Hermione shouted.

Fred and George started to laugh. "She can't choose one!" Fred chuckled. "She's never been able to do anything for herself. Remember, George," he said, turning to his twin, "that time when I died? She didn't even remember me once it happened. She pretended I never existed, just to make her self feel better. What a selfish person, wouldn't you agree?"

George nodded in agreement, looking grave. "I couldn't agree more, Fred. She'll never make her own decisions, or live the way she wants to. She'll always do what makes things simple, won't she?"

"Stop it!" Ginny screamed at them, dropping her bouquet to clap her hands to her face in embarrassment. "This is my wedding! Stop messing it up!"

"It's not them that's messing it up," said Harry quietly. "Nor is it me or Draco, even. It's you that's ruining it for you."

"What?" she stuttered. "No… no, I didn't…"

"He's right," Draco agreed. "You brought me here. You didn't have to."

"But… I wanted to!"

"Why?" Draco asked her, leaning to his side with his hands on his hips, looking haughty and impressive, and hypnotically beautiful in his dress robes.

Ginny let out a noise of indignation. "I don't know!" she cried.

"Do you want to marry me, or not?" Harry hissed, his eyes glowing with rage.

"I… of course!" she gasped.

"What about me?" Draco asked calmly, though his face wore a vicious sneer.

"Yes," she sobbed. "You, too… I want to have you both."

"Do you love us both?" Harry inquired, sounding accusatory.

She sniffled. "I don't know. This is too stupid. It's not real."

"It's always real," Dumbledore told her seriously, frowning. "But remember, Ginny: love will always triumph!"

And at that, he skipped away merrily, looking hilariously like a cheerful schoolboy with long white hair. She glanced back at Harry, and took his hand, but Draco snatched their palms apart, looking furious. She turned again to Draco, and at this, her eyes snapped suddenly open.

She was lying in her bed again, and sweat was drenching every inch of her. She threw the covers from around her so that the cool air of the night could let her breathe again. "Oh god," she whispered. "Oh god."

Ginny felt nauseous. She stood quickly, and flung herself to the bathroom. She shut the door quiet behind her, and slid down it to sit shakily upon the tiled floor. She wanted out of this house. She wanted out of these feelings for Draco that were getting stronger and more poignant with every breath she took. She wanted recklessly to leave: to find Draco, and just go with him… stay with him forever. "Oh god," she said again, her stomach churning, her blood boiling, and her brain pulsing violently in her skull. "Oh god…" She felt literally sick now, and she heaved. Scrambling to the toilet, she bent over it, breathing deeply. Nothing happened, but she still felt miserable. Her heart had exploded, it seemed, and tiny bits of it were flowing through her bloodstream, crackling with electric desire every time she drew breath. "Oh god," was all she could say again, for it had finally hit her… the truth had finally crashed over her in a wave of such sheer disgust and horror that she had suddenly to fight the intensely overpowering urge to vomit.

"I love him."

A/N: OH GOD, THE DRAMA! IT KILLS!! Anyway, thanks for reading! Please review!! It's not so hard, and I'd really appreciate it!!