Four Months Later
Ginny kept her hood up and her head down at the market, kicking herself for volunteering to grab lunch for herself, Hermione and Tanya.
She felt, as she did increasingly these days, that life outside of Braddocke was jarring. This feeling was vindicated by a small cluster of young witches, who gasped as she walked past, knitting together in a crescendo of giggles and hissing whispers. Ginny closed her eyes and kept walking, letting a slow stream of air out through a tiny space in her lips. A breathing exercise that Luna had offered, when Ginny had lost her temper and blasted a stack of tabloids off of their stand several months ago.
WEASLEY AND MALFOY CUT TIES —
This section of the headline had fluttered down, smoking, and had landed next to Ginny's right foot.
Ginny squeezed her eyes shut against this memory and continued on her mission to the delicatessen. What had Tanya requested? It was some bizarre, American thing. Crisps inside the sandwich?
"'Ello, love," the young man behind the counter greeted her warmly.
"Hi, Connor," Ginny smiled. This particular market was the best within short-range apparation distance from Braddocke, so they were all regulars. Connor leaned on his elbows, propped against the counter.
"What can I get you today?" he asked, in his familiar low rumble, a twinkle in his eye.
"Erm," Ginny searched her pockets for the scrap of paper on which she'd written it all down. "Bugger. I can't entirely remember to be honest," she grumbled. Connor chuckled. She closed her eyes. He was very handsome. "Ah... well for Hermione, a mozzarella and roasted vegetables on... was it sourdough?"
"A croissant usually —"
"Yes —yes, that's right, thank you. A Reuben for me, and for Tanya... I think she said peanut butter and jam on white bread, with crisps? And I don't mean on the side, she wanted them like in the sandwich..."
Connor laughed at the expression on Ginny's face as she tried to relay this request, wondering on the spot if Tanya hadn't actually just been messing with her.
"Yep, that is what she usually gets, believe it or not. Not always peanuts and jam, but always the crisps."
"Wild," Ginny mused, shaking off her confusion, but grateful for the break in the repetitive thoughts that had been dogging her for the past two days.
Connor laughed again and Ginny felt herself blush. She smiled at the ground, not knowing what had gotten into her today. Actually, she did know. She had been running and hiding for her life from public inquiry and humiliation for two days straight, and flirting with the handsome man who fed her nearly every day was a welcome break in the spiraling sense of shame she felt about all other aspects of her love life, as of late.
"Indeed. Well, just give me two minutes, love, and I'll have yer lunch for ya," Connor was considering her with a humorous smile. Ginny smiled back, relieved to be looked at with something other than the lustful charge of gossip.
"Thank you," she said, meaning it. "I'll just grab our tea and come back then."
He nodded and shooed her away so he could 'work his magic properly', and Ginny walked for the drink stand, feeling slightly lighter.
This feeling died almost immediately, as she queued up, and caught sight of today's headlines.
THE MALFOY REVELATIONS — DRACO MALFOY PUBLICLY DISAVOWS HIS FATHER AND ADDRESSES ALL THE GINNY WEASLEY RUMORS, IN HIS FIRST EVER RADIO BROADCAST INTERVIEW —
In for 5 slow counts through your nose, out for 5 through a small circle in your lips.
Ginny focused her eyes fixedly on the florist's small display of tulips for sale, heat flushing up her neck and face. She tucked her hair behind her ears under the raised hood of her cloak, not wanting to draw attention to herself as being a Weasley— the Ginny Weasley in question, in fact.
Luckily the group of whispering witches was nowhere to be heard, and the only other person in line was a tottering older wizard, who smiled politely at her with no sign of recognition as he passed her with his to-go tea in hand. The middle aged witch behind the till couldn't hide the small widening of recognition in her eyes at the sight of Ginny's face, but said nothing except for,
"Hello, dear. What can I get you?"
She did say this with an unmistakable tone of kindness that bordered on pity, in Ginny's opinion, but she allowed it to roll off her. She was getting much better at that these days.
"Two cappuccinos and a hot chocolate please."
She paid, waited, then accepted the small carry-away box and returned to the deli. Unfortunately, the young witches from earlier were clustered there. Their eyes widened. A blonde girl squeezed the hand of her friend and they both clamped their mouths shut against giggles of mirth as the third, a dark haired witch, counted out sickles for Connor, unperturbed.
Ginny hung back until they'd left, then walked to the counter with as much dignity as she could muster. Connor grinned at her; a knowing smile that managed to express a genuine feeling of how absurd the young witches' behavior had just been. Ginny relaxed slightly.
"Ta," he said, as she handed him a galleon, "Not to worry love. They're young now, but one day they'll be on the other side of some hard experiences and they won't be laughing so much."
"Mmm," Ginny made a noncommittal sound, glancing over her shoulder to see them exiting the shop. Her resentment budged a little. They looked to only be in their Fifth Year or so. Just kids.
"Yes," she sighed after a moment. She smiled up at him. "You're... probably right."
He chuckled, turning for the stack of wrapped sandwiches.
"Yer sustenance, madame, and, here, take a sample, next week's special. Coq Au Vin."
Ginny smiled at the way he pronounced 'Coq Au Vin' in his Scottish accent, and accepted a tiny cup of it.
"Oh, damn," she blurted, before she could stop herself. "This is incredible, Connor. I didn't know you were... like an actual chef."
She winced, knowing that had come out rude, but he was chuckling.
"Aye, I am. Training proper. I just help me dad out here during the weeks while I'm finishing culinary school... I spend most of my weekend evenings practicing, if you'd ever like to come take advantage of some free French cuisine."
It took Ginny, who was immersed in the sample, which was honestly, incredible, a moment to understand his meaning. She did a double-take. He was watching her with admiring amusement, his arms crossed over his chest and a dark eyebrow cocked.
"Oh," she said, lowering the food at gazing at him, stunned. "I... okay. Yes, that would be nice. I've never been known to turn down free food."
He chuckled again, grinning at the counter then back up at her, a laugh in his eyes.
"Aye, I like that in a woman."
Ginny laughed. She felt suddenly nervous. She hadn't... dated, not properly, in what felt like years. Had it actually been years?
Connor leaned against the counter again, rocking on his toes. He was very tall.
"Saturday?" he asked.
"I — okay," she replied, hearing her own voice as though it were disembodied. He nodded and smiled again. He possessed a warmth that made her feel comfortable.
"Alright then, I'll owl you the address at your castle then, shall I?"
Ginny gave him a mock-reproachful look, because he liked to tease her about being the 'laird of castle Braddocke', then nodded.
"Alright, that sounds good."
They said goodbye and Ginny left the shop, feeling a surreal lightness that was a welcome change from the last few days, since Draco had given his interview.
It had been an strange few months.
September had passed in a foggy, busy bardo.
Ginny hadn't been prepared for the heartbreak she experienced, in the weeks after Malfoy left.
She should have been. She realized this belatedly in the days that followed; days in which she spent fighting with herself for enough presence of mind to carry on all the things she'd stacked on her own plate. She should have known herself well enough to recognize her feelings for him sooner. Without having to detonate them, as she had done by kissing him.
She'd let herself get away with denial for a frighteningly long time. Months. It actually scared her that she could exist in such a state of self-deception.
But they'd been so caught up. Ginny had to catch herself countless times, repeating this fact over and over.
They'd been caught up, so she hadn't been thinking. There had been no time to think.
But the reality was that somehow, over the course of nine months, Draco Malfoy had inexplicably become one of her closest friends, and then, somewhere in a deep recess of her unconscious, her feelings for him had woven slowly, steadily, into much more.
She'd asked him to leave and he had. She'd been protecting herself. But sometimes she wondered if protecting her heart hadn't just led to something even more painful than... whatever she had been afraid of.
The words that had flowed out of her in Braddocke's kitchen had been honest. And if Ginny knew anything, it was that she trusted Draco; and she trusted him because he instinctively did what was right. She knew his mind had been made up, no matter how much it had hurt, the moment he'd felt the honesty in her words. In what she needed.
Which was to be away from him.
And so he'd stayed away.
By mid October she had finally grown used to the new version of Braddocke — the one in which Malfoy existed in memory; as part of the honeymoon ramp-up to the Opening.
It was a gift, she'd come to see, one evening at the end of September while the kids were chasing fireflies across the front lawn and she stood on the steps watching them, as sunset painted the sky and the musical vibrations of crickets filled the air. He had given her a gift. He had given her a place of purpose.
She would never forget that.
She knew, vaguely, what his life was like. From Hermione, who would occasionally slip a piece of information into conversation, cautiously, and with her eyes full of feeling, watching Ginny absorb it.
She knew, that he had gone to Germany. That he spent half of his time there, in secret, laying the groundwork for work with Harry. She knew that he was just as busy in England as he had always been, because she'd run into a few of the businessmen she'd gotten to know while working with him. They all said they'd been seeing him as usual, always front-loaded into the conversation, as though seeing her still immediately brought him to mind. She knew he'd attended the annual Ministry awards ceremony — she'd seen that in the Press.
She knew he was fine. She knew he would always be fine.
It was funny for her, at first, trying to understand how her heart felt broken. They were not together, had never been together. There had been no row, no betrayal, no... beginning, even.
They had simply had a friendship, and feelings, whose cost was too high.
"Ginny, it doesn't have to be logical," Hermione urged, when, after a few weeks, Ginny uttered her first words about it. "You really care for each other — that's obvious to anyone whose seen you two together ... of course not seeing him anymore hurts."
"Yes... I know. Urrrgghh, It's so stupid," Ginny shook herself, rubbing her hands over her eyes and making a feeble attempt at a humorous face. She hadn't told Hermione about their kiss the night before the Opening. Hadn't told her that the floodgates to that side of their feelings had been opened, and it had since been like trying to usher water back into a tap. For her at least. It felt like too small a thing to be causing the complication that Ginny felt, and she couldn't bear to talk about it. She would feel silly, talking about it. It had only been a kiss. But it had unleashed something, in the room, and in the dynamic between them that felt... too big to put back in the cage.
"It is not stupid," Hermione corrected, softly.
She moved, numbly at first. Though she would challenge anyone to be around that group of kids and not have the life and joy breathed back into them.
She learned the names of every soul living and working under Braddocke's refurbished roof. She stayed for playtime and for late night tea with the women. She was there as the first group activities started, gardening, games, reading lessons and therapy, all of which gave the women and children room to truly bond. She was there for the welcome skits the kids had prepared, for the first bought of night-terrors in the women's wing. She stayed late nights in the house-elves quarters, improving her seam and button mending skills under Tooby's patient instruction. She was there for morning tea with Hermione, before Hermione's department in the Ministry opened for the day.
She began to appreciate the impossible fullness of her life, as dividing her time between Braddocke, Quiddich, and the Burrow left her little time to dwell.
Quiddich still demanded her attention, though the season had officially ended in October. Watkins had also agreed to let her alternate play more often, to take the pressure off of her. He had been pleased by the improved publicity that Braddocke had brought to the Harpies, and Ginny was grateful for this miraculous allowance for a little more balance in her life.
Malfoy hadn't returned to Braddocke for a full fortnight. When he did make an appearance, his time there was carved so perfectly as to coincide with her Quiddich practice hours, that she knew it was intentional. She tried not to think about it, because every time she did she felt a wave of pain too deep to charge through. She felt angry with herself for having allowed everything to go so far.
She only knew he'd been to Braddocke because the kids started talking about him. They said his name in the same hushed sort of whisper that they used for the witches and wizards on their Chocolate Frog Cards. She'd actually assumed that's what they were talking about, the first time she'd overheard them chattering about him, and only when she'd heard 'Draco, that's his actual name' and 'I heard that means DRAGON', had her hands gone cold while her head double-took. From what she gathered, he'd come to have dinner with them twice in September, and had made quite the impression.
Ginny grew used to a displaying frozen smile whenever someone spoke to her about him. She'd promise that, 'yes, oh, yes. I'll pass that on,' or 'sure, I'll ask him when I see him next. Thank you,' - all while trying to ignore the sickening spike in her heartbeat and the choking constriction in her throat. She would instead pass these things onto Hermione, and didn't know what became of them past that.
The bills were paid, and every responsibility he had initially agreed to was handled, quietly and on time.
Surprisingly, Ginny had been finding solace in spending renewed time with her family.
To his credit, Ron hadn't said a word about Malfoy since the disaster of the Opening. In fact, all of her brothers were so remarkably devoid of harassment on the subject, that Ginny was sure Molly had spoken with them. That, and she knew, as hard as she tried to be as boisterous as usual in the presence of her family, the cracks had shown. For a few weeks at least.
But after those few weeks, Ginny found herself returning to the ludicrous comfort of the Weasley men with a new appreciation.
She spent an enjoyable evening at the Burrow with Percy, going through their old comic collections and journals, teasing him about his endless entries that detailed the every movements of practically every Griffindor under his charge as Head Boy. She even succeeded in making him laugh at himself once or twice. One particular entry read simply, 'Ron and Hermione Granger quarreled over her cat to the point of a formal noise complaint this afternoon. Third time this month. Harry Potter looked on silently but I do not think he is entirely innocent in this matter. Note to self; write to Mum, she may be of more use than McGonnagal here.
"Oh my God," Ginny moaned joyfully, squinting at Percy's teenage handwriting through bleary eyes. "We have to get this printed on their wedding invitations."
Charlie, his faith and support in her newly restored after the success of Braddocke, which had been on an upwards trajectory since the Opening, had done the unthinkable but incredibly satisfying - and had offered his full apologies for ever having doubted her. She had accepted, after requesting he repeat his apologies for her quick quotes quill, just to have on the record, and had been able to spend one thrilling early-morning in October with him at work; at a camp of convalescing dragons in a forest in Romania.
On Halloween, the kids had performed a series of skits after dinner in the dining hall, decked out in costumes they had spend all week creating.
The spirits of the women and children seemed to rise steadily with each passing week. Ginny swelled with pleasure to see that her intuition had been right; that the close relationships formed between the orphaned kids and the traumatized women, seemed to ground everyone involved. Though it was only September, someone had suggested they all plan a grand, Halloween Ball - and the idea had caught like wildfire.
The kids had been busy planning their costumes, the pranks they could play in unsuspecting guests, and the women had been finding joy in beginning to help Ginny plan the logistics and the decorations. It would, Ginny had concluded with Hermione and Maury, be an excellent opportunity for a charity night, and to invite the public for a sort of 'check in' on the whole experiment. It had been rumored, just like Malfoy had predicted, that another wealthy family up in the country was considering putting an old manor or house up for similar use, inspired by Braddocke; so at this point, the more they could demonstrate to the public, the better.
Not to mention... as Hermione had skirted around doing, it would provide some... damage control. Proof that Braddocke had not gone up in permanent flames on Opening day.
It had been a joyous celebration. In the light of a feast, Ginny had been able to appreciate just how much everyone had settled in; how much they'd all bonded. The women and children were like one happy pack, a smoothly operating ecosystem that was finally beginning to flourish.
Ginny and Hermione watched, full and pleased from their place at the table, as kids darted back and forth from the women's table to their own, tugging on sleeves and bearing gifts in the form of sweets, flowers, jokes and drawings on bits of parchment. The costumes had lasted for the better part of the day, but now existed as fragmented characters. Hayden raced across the hall with fuzzy feet, trailing a lion's tail, while the elaborate mane and mask stared at everyone from where it had been abandoned on a platter in the center of the kid's table. Lily's fairy wings drooped, fluttering occasionally as the spell took it's final breaths, and Clarissa's ghoul mask was slung around the back of her head, framed by a mass of feathery curls.
November had brought a kind of peace. The Quiddich season was cooling off, and Braddocke had taken on a comfortable, enclosed quality; a new layer of settling in, as though for winter hibernation.
Victoire's seventh birthday had fallen on the last Thursday of the month so Ginny, her mother and Fleur decided to plan an all-out bash.
They planned elaborate games and an obstacle course, implemented with the assistance of her father. George helped them deck the house and yard out with luminous decorations and trick-objects. Fleur brought over a case of charmed fairy figurines, which she and Ginny hid all over the yard. All of Victoire's primary school friends came, along with all Ginny's brothers, Fleur's sister Gabrielle, Hermione, - and Angelena.
While Angelena had been a steady fixture at the fringes of their lives since school, there could be no denying the fact that her and George were growing... closer. He began disappearing for days at a time in September, with a slowly building buoyancy in his character that made Molly tear up with quiet happiness for a week straight.
When George and Angelena arrived at the Burrow for Victoire's Bash, it was hand in hand, and with a wickedly warning expression on George's face, mostly directed at Ron and Charlie, clearly stating that no one was to say a word about it.
They had a merry and exhausting afternoon of cricket, Quiddich, catch the golden gnome, fairy-hunting and apple-bobbing. Ginny, Angelina and Hermione watched, amused as the latter took a turn for the worse; devolving from a purely kid's game into all of the Weasley boys sopping wet and firing apples at each other with their wands. Eventually all the boys and all the kids had grouped naturally into two separate sides of battle, shouting and ducking behind stone walls, like little commanders in war, screaming and clutching their faces in the assault of apple-mush shrapnel.
"Honestly," Hermione muttered, "boys."
"You know, this is always exactly what I imagine your lot's daily home life to be," laughed Angelena, turning to Ginny, "was I far off?"
Ginny laughed, her eyes sparkling on her brothers. Charlie was standing on top of the picnic table, shouting orders to everyone with all the seriousness of a muggle world war general. As she watched, George aimed a makeshift bazooka at him and sent a steady steam of apples flying to pulvarize his feet.
"No," she grinned, "this is pretty much standard."
The day flew by in a blaze of colored streamers, strawberry cake, fizzing whizbees and golden sunlight.
When the kids left, the adult Weasley siblings and company lay exhausted on the back lawn, laughing and recounting the points of the day, until Molly called through the kitchen window for help setting up for dinner.
Everyone got up except for Ginny and George. Ginny was watching a series of clouds pass, allowing her thoughts to wander over a particular one that resembled a dragon. Angelena burrowed into George's side, kissing his neck and saying something Ginny couldn't hear. George laughed and tried to pull her back as she got up to go inside, but Angelena sprang out of reach.
"Oy, no!" she quipped, grinning at him over her shoulder with eyes that said she knew exactly who she was dealing with. Ginny loved to see it. "I'm going in to help your mother - I'm making my impression, alright?"
"You would leave your soldier after his return from battle?" George called after her, his voice ragged in a convincing theater-cry. He was answered by a snort and the snap of the screen door. George sighed theatrically and collapsed back onto the grass beside Ginny.
They lay in silence for a few comfortable moments, the breeze caressing their noses and blowing the dragon-cloud out of Ginny's eyeline.
"So," she grinned slowly, "Angelina, huh?"
George rolled his eyes, though he didn't try to hide the smile that tugged at his lips. Ginny's heart ached as a small telltale light came into his eyes. It was so good to see. She nearly had to restrain herself from flinging her arms around him, but stopped herself out of respect for his process - knowing how skittish her brothers could be around admitting their feelings for girls.
"Yeah," he said eventually. Ginny sucked in a silent breath, feeling rewarded for her restraint. She stayed quiet in the hopes that he might elaborate and he did.
"You know, something you said to me stuck, actually — what you said about Malfoy, about embracing people who make you face the past. Angelina and Fred," he broke off for a moment and cleared his throat, "I have all kinds of memories of Fred that are tied to her... so I think I've been avoiding it- avoiding her - for years. In a way. I've seen her often, in groups of friends, but I've still hidden out. If that makes sense."
Ginny nodded, her eyes wide, still not daring to speak.
"So, I guess, little sister, I can thank you for your sage words. Wise beyond your years you are."
He dug his toe into her shin and she yanked her foot away.
"Well, everyone knows that girls are naturally much more intelligent than boys," she shrugged, catching his eye wickedly. He fixed her with a look, and out of nowhere, she was hit in the side of the head by a chunk of apple.
"Oy!" she exclaimed, combing sticky juice out of her hair and letting her mouth fall open in reproach. George chuckled and ruffled her hair.
"Hows that going, then?" he asked in a low voice that was not without a note of suspicion. "With the young Ferret Wonderkind?"
"George," Ginny shut her eyes tightly at this descriptor, and against the seizing pang of panic that zig-zagged up her chest. She had not been asked outright about Malfoy by anyone for months.
When she opened them he was still watching her expectantly. Her face reddened.
"It's... not," she cleared her throat, feeling suddenly aware of her own hypocrisy.
It didn't escape George either.
"Not taking your own advice eh?" he asked shrewdly.
"It's a little more complicated than that-" she said, not wanting to have this conversation now, with one of her brothers.
"Is it?" he said, frowning and shrugging. "I was in the room for the showdown, you know. Seems like the poor, well - rich - extremely rich - bloke has one too many pure-evil relatives? Though... it's not like we can help who we're related to..."
He found her rib with his elbow and looked over at her, grinning. Ginny had recoiled at the reference to their shouting-match, and Lucious, but felt a smile tug at her lips at the truth in his last words. She glanced at him and felt a pang of unexpected, aching joy at the sparkle in his eyes. The golden sunlight illuminated his freckles and the white of his teeth as he turned to squint back up at the sky. He pursed his lips in mock thought and looked back at her with a raised orange brow.
"I mean... we let Sirius in, and... we've all met his mum..." George gave a mock-shudder, then grinned at Ginny again, "I guess our family's favorite little Dragon just doesn't outweight the bad? It is a lot of bad. Imagine being related to Lucious Malfoy. That would make almost anyone unsuitable for any kind of romantic appeal-"
"No, he does," Ginny heard herself say, finding that these were the only words that stuck to her brain, "outweigh all that, I mean."
"Then what's the problem? Don't tell me you're going soft on us now, Ginevra - you're not letting Ron get to you, are you?"
Ginny turned to stare at him.
"No," she said, with such genuine disgust that he laughed. She dodged as he attempted to tweak her nose. "I mean - he's definitely butted in a fair amount, but - hold on, I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you of all people - there's definitely been a Ginny camp and a brothers camp, and you know which one you've been in."
She scowled at him with such conviction that he smiled.
"Well," he shrugged, his voice uncharacteristically thoughtful. "I have to admit, it's one of the most rebellious situations you've ever gotten yourself into. I'd be lying, as one of your former mentors in rebellion, if I said that part of me didn't admire the overall chaos it's created. Especially for Ron. Maybe it's just love making me soft."
Ginny snorted, letting her eyes linger on him. Her heart was nearly bursting with a painful mixture of things, outweighed by adoration for one of the brothers she had always aspired to be most like.
"Love eh?" she smiled, after a few moments of silence. He fixed her with a look and she laughed.
"- right, is that dinner? Let's go in," he said, feigning sudden interest in the clatter through the Burrow window where Molly was preparing supper. Ginny laughed again.
"Love?" she repeated, in a near-squeal that she knew would elicit the exact face George made a second later, a freckled-nose wrinkle that made her want to tackle him.
"You know," he said, loudly, "I'd say this conversation was full of mutual ammo, little sister— favorite protege — so how about we-"
He winked dramatically, put a finger to his lips, and extended the pinky of his other hand to her. Ginny grinned, and reluctantly hooked his pinky with hers.
"Fine. But George," she said, seriously. He looked up at the earnest change in her voice. They shared a look and words failed her. But a spark appeared in his eyes that she knew mirrored hers.
"Love," she breathed quietly, nodding faintly at him. He wrinkled his nose again and smiled sheepishly at the ground for a millisecond before bending to peer closely at her face.
"Love." He said, and he grabbed hold of her nose, tugging it side to side. She laughed and swatted him away. He caught her swatting hand to pull her to her feet, dragging her inside for dinner.
And then came December. Braddocke in the snow was unbelievable. The closest thing to Hogwarts, and Ginny felt energized by the mounting pre-Christmas excitement within the manor. Here and there, she felt a pang of regret, a small stabbing sadness at the memory of the night her and Malfoy had spent imagining what Christmas there would be like, laughing at the thought of forcing Harry to play Father Christmas and sorting the children into houses.
But mostly she felt buoyed by the constant heat from the many fireplaces, and the hours she spent decorating with the staff and elves. She was coming to a point of acceptance where Draco was concerned. She understood what had happened. That it had to be like this. That the reason they'd been able to do all of this, had in part been the chemistry between them. But sometimes... that was all chemistry was. And to try to apply that to other areas of life just wasn't always right or possible.
She managed not to think of him, most days.
That is, until two days ago, December the 11th, when he had given a nationally broadcasted radio interview with one of the most popular prime-time stations, The Magic Hour.
It had been advertised for days, because, he had never done such a thing before. In fact it was so out of character that Ginny thought it was a joke at first, until the advertisement played a teaser-clip from the pre-recorded conversation.
"I mean..." Ginny had frozen whilst unpacking a satchel of groceries, as his voice had come through the speakers of her wireless, sounding lower and more intimate than usual through a studio microphone, "I don't really understand what people expect me to say about my father. We don't see eye to eye. Obviously. We have different politics and we've chosen different paths in our work. I understand that the Wizarding World has operated as these sort of dynasties for years now, but we're in a post-War world now. Things are different. My family name is... just my family name."
"ALL THIS AND MORE," the sultry voice of the female host had said in the advertisement. "NO HOLDS BARRED IN THIS INTERVIEW. WE TALK FAMILY, BEING FORCED TO WORK FOR YOU-KNOW-WHO AS A TEENAGER, AND, GET TO THE BOTTOM OF THE MANY DATING RUMORS THAT HAVE ALWAYS SURROUNDED MALFOY JR."
Ginny had stared at her wireless in utter disbelief, unable to process the absurdity of what was happening, as another clip played.
"So," said the voice of the female host, "let's get to the bottom of those tabloid rumors a few months back. You and Holy Head Harpies' Ginny Weasley were quite the Romeo and Juliet over the summer, was there any truth to that?"
There was a pause and the distorted sound of air over the mic as Draco half sighed, half laughed.
"Uh... I mean, doesn't everyone know I've been with Diana Farrington for years now?"
"Have you though? There's always been speculation that's more of a public-facing relationship only. You're telling me that all the Press around you and Ginny Weasley last summer was just gossip? We had a journalist at your opening day in August who saw some kind of blowout between you two that seemed... charged."
Ginny had lowered the bunch of carrots in her hands onto the cutting board and let her fingers hang limply at her sides, staring even harder at her wireless, as though she could interrupt this unbelievable conversation with her eyes. Nevermind that it had happened fifty miles away and days ago.
Malfoy sighed again, making a low sort of groaning sound that expressed stalling for time to think, irritation, and humor all in one. Bugger, he was charming in situations like this. She'd nearly forgotten how charming he could be. Ginny brought a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes, shaking the thought from her head as he answered.
"Yeah... so that... happened," he said this in a way that made both himself and the interviewer laugh. Her laugh went on a little too long, and Ginny made a disgusted face at the wireless, indignation rising in her chest at this audible record of Malfoy's effect on witches, assaulting her in her own living room, "the blowout I mean. Kind of. It — look, I've worked with Ginny for a year now, and we've done some incredible things together. She's an amazing woman and, look, anyone who's seen her play quidditch or working at the rehabilitation house knows that. But, yeah, to do the things we've done has taken a lot of work, so we've had to spend a lot of time together, and I can see how rumors would start."
"And the fight on opening day?"
"We clash sometimes, as most people who work that closely do."
"I'm unconvinced," stated the interviewer. Ginny wanted to throttle her.
"I can tell," Draco said easily, not missing a beat, in a way that made them both laugh again. Ginny wanted to throttle him too.
"You and Ginny Weasley attended school together, yes?"
"We did."
"And did you get along at school?"
"We did not."
"OH, it's just so PERFECTLY set up, Draco!" the interviewer laughed, "you can see why people are fixated on it."
There was another distortion of air as Draco let out a kind of reluctant chuckle.
"I can."
"ALL THIS AND MORE — THIS FRIDAY, ON, THE MAGIC HOUR."
The cheerful theme music had ended the segment and Ginny had stood, looking unblinkingly at the window as Arnold jumped up at her arm and the kettle whistled and rattled wildly on the stove.
The days leading up to that Friday had been full of such an extreme uptick in the amount of attention Ginny received while out, that she was forced to just stock up on home-delivered groceries and hole up in her apartment after work at Braddocke, postponing a drink to catch up with Dean and Lavender, as well as a tea date with Luna. Ironically, she thought she would be relieved by Dean's company, who characteristically had zero patience for pop-culture gossip, but felt that she could not handle Lavender. Not while her own mind was full of relentless questions. About why Draco was doing a bloody radio interview. And what else had he said about her?
She was sure Lavender would hound her with these very questions, and was also pained by the reflexive thought of what Malfoy's own response to her thoughts would be. He would chuckle and call her self-centered, and tease her until she could laugh about it.
When the interview actually did come out, Ginny couldn't listen to it. She knew there'd be a transcript in Witch Weekly, if she got desperate to know, but ultimately sequestered herself in a hot bath with a book and then flooed Hermione, popping her head through to her friend's fireplace to make aggressive preliminary plans for the Braddocke Christmas Feast, while Hermione watched her with wide, wary eyes, following Ginny's lead in pretending that Draco Malfoy had not just spoken about their relationship on National Radio.
She'd seen enough in the headlines over the past couple of days. Yesterday had been Sunday, so Ginny had felt perfectly okay allowing herself to not leave her flat all day, luxuriating in some Quiddich magazines and re-painting her kitchen, although both Ron and George had owled her with their favorite quotes. George obviously found great humor in the fact that such a ridiculous thing as his little sister and Draco Malfoy had become a point of national interest, and most of his quotes had been mocking the interviewer. Ron's quotes tried to emulate humor but contained the familiar neuroses around what Ginny and Malfoy's relationship actually was that was too transparent to be funny. She tossed both letters into the bin and owled George back a howler she'd been saving, referencing two choice embarrassing stories from their childhood, in the hopes that he might be with Angelina when he received it.
She'd seen enough. Granted, she'd only been a small portion of the interview, really, and to his credit, Malfoy seemed to have attempted to steer the conversation towards their accomplishments, her accomplishments, as much as possible. But he'd stressed several things. He'd talked a lot about his life and work in England. He'd pretty clearly distanced himself from Lucious, had stated several times that he'd been dating Diana Farrington for, 'years', had taken on a tone of admiring but almost complete neutrality when it came to Ginny, and had prattled on about his opinions about trade deals between the American and English Ministries for quite a long time.
It was at once all Ginny could think about, and yet she was utterly devoted to not allowing herself to think about it. Why had he done it? — It doesn't matter, his choices do not concern you, Ginny.Why had he made it sound like they were still working together? — Well, he technically still funds Braddocke and keeps it running managerially. He just doesn't set foot on the grounds if you're there. But what should he have done, detailed your row, the truth that things between you became too close, and you ran away?
Suffice to say, she was quite mentally exhausted at this point, two days later. Monday. She hadn't seen Hermione since Friday evening when she'd flooed in to obsessively discuss Holiday plans in an attempt to escape her own thoughts. Hermione had been waiting at Braddocke on Monday morning though, brightly holding an extra cup of tea when Ginny entered the hall.
Ginny had kept her at bay all day with an aggressively sunny outward disposition, chatting enthusiastically about everything but Malfoy, every time she sensed that Hermione was about to bring him up. This got her all the way through to lunchtime, when, to her horror, Tanya appeared in the kitchen, saying Hermione had invited her for a 'girl's lunch', at which point Ginny knew there would be no escaping. It was at that point that she had volunteered to pick up sandwiches at the market, to buy herself another half hour of solace.
And that was how she found herself leaving Robertson's Market with three wrapped parcels, a tray of hot drinks, and having just agreed to go out on a date with Connor Robertson.
The sun warmed her face as she stepped outside, though it bounced off the fresh snow blindingly. Ginny squinted to get her bearings, remembering, despite herself, this time last year, when she had crunched merrily through the snow to Colloid Alley, blissfully unaware that she was about to walk obliviously into the office of Draco Malfoy, their secret investor.
She apparated to the Braddocke grounds without spilling anything, a small feat, and braced herself for the 'girl's lunch' that awaited her. In short, Hermione concerned, cornering her by inviting Tanya, who would ask all the blunt questions and ensure that Ginny could not get away with another day of pretending that the interview had not happened.
"Oh, thank God," was how Tanya received her coffee.
"And here is your sandwich," Ginny said, raising an eyebrow as she handed it over, "complete with crisps."
Tanya snorted.
"The English judging anyone's culinary choices is always hilarious to me."
Hermione looked for a moment like she was going to protest to this, but Tanya shot her a look and continued, pinning Ginny to the spot with her eyes.
"So. I heard the interview Draco Malfoy did."
"Did you?" Ginny said in a tone of mild surprise. Her voice was muffled, as she had taken as large a bite as possible from her sandwich in anticipation of what was coming. "I didn't realize they had many listeners."
Tanya snorted again, and Hermione smiled at her, seemingly relieved at her ability to utilize humor. The interview had already been declared as one of the highest-ever rated to date for the Wizarding Wireless Network.
"Are you okay, Ginny?" Hermione asked. Ginny swallowed her bite, prepared to roll her eyes, but when she looked up at Hermione, she felt an unexpected rush of gratitude. The three of them were alone in the kitchen. The same kitchen in which Hermione had lifted Ginny's low spirits more than once in the past few months, when Ginny had collapsed between bouts of exuding energy for the kids and staff. Ginny smiled, cocking her head to the side.
"Yes, Hermione, I'm fine."
"Did you listen to it?" Tanya said through a full bite of sandwich. "Fuck, he's smart. Like, sorry. Not that I assumed he wasn't, but I guess I did assume he'd just be... I don't know. Rich and lazy? You know the type," she waved a hand flippantly and Ginny laughed.
"Yes, he's definitely not lazy," she smiled. She felt an unexpected relief washing over her. It felt okay to talk about him. Natural even. She would always care for him and wish him the best. It felt good to let that be the case, rather than pretending he didn't exist, like she had been doing.
"Is he actually with Diana Farrington though?" Tanya continued. "I work for her for events, quite a lot actually, and I've never gotten that impression."
Ginny shrugged. "Is it our business?"
Tanya gave her a withering look and said nothing for a moment.
"Well, I have to hand it to him for knowing how and when to strike with his 'first ever interview'. Honestly the country is in uproar, the man could make a fortune in PR... not that he needs it."
Ginny shrugged again, taking another large bite of her reuben. She wanted to ask Hermione why he had done it, but something told her not to in front of Tanya. Tanya was continuing to think out loud, musing about why the public was so obsessed by the thought of Ginny and Draco, and what Diana Farrington's role in all of it was. Hermione was watching Ginny surreptitiously. Tanya rounded in on the fact that, at least Ginny and Harry hadn't been a thing in the Press for months, pausing to lament that Ginny's love-life had really been coopted by the media, hadn't it? — when Ginny remembered.
"Oh, God," she cried, covering her face with her hands.
"What?" Tanya and Hermione both asked. There was genuine concern in Hermione's voice, but Ginny started laughing.
"I've just remembered — I agreed to go on a date with Connor Robertson on Saturday."
Tanya and Hermione blinked at her.
"With — Connor? But—" Hermione started.
"He's gorgeous," Tanya said, nodding her head in approval. Then she laughed, bringing her hands together in a slow clap. "And she chooses one of the common folk, good for you Ginny, staying out of the limelight. Very Nodding Hill."
Hermione laughed at this, looking around at Tanya in surprise, who was still eyeing Ginny slyly.
"I — what?" Ginny said, "What is that?"
Hermione grinned, "It's... a muggle film. My mum loves it. Never mind though. You're going out with Connor?"
Ginny shrugged, smiling at the absurdity of it all.
"Yes, I think so. He's going to culinary school and is going to cook me a French meal."
Tanya made a face of increased approval, shrugging as she finished the last bite of her sandwich and crinkled up the parchment.
"Can't go wrong with a man who will feed you," she said. She grinned at Hermione and Ginny and touched each of their hair affectionately, frowning as she rubbed a stray bit of makeup from Ginny's forehead. "I have to run to work, but thanks for inviting me, Hermione. It's so cozy here. Let's catch up more soon, yeah? I'm not done dissecting the intricacies of Draco Malfoy and I know you know him better than you're letting on, Ginny."
She waggled a finger at her and winked.
"Have fun on your date."
"Thanks," Ginny grumbled, making a face at her. Tanya left and a small silence fell between Hermione and Ginny. They eyed each other, before Hermione broke it.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes, Hermione."
"It's just not ever day your head appears in my fire demanding we spend an hour deciding on holiday costuming for the staff."
"Fair enough. I might be concerned too, if it were you."
"Did you actually listen to it?"
Ginny paused, deciding she was done with her lunch for now, and focusing on carefully wrapping one un-touched half of her sandwich up. She cleared her throat.
"Um... no. But I heard the adverts and I've read about it."
Her own voice had gone suddenly soft, betraying the vulnerability she felt around the entire thing. Hermione made a soothing noise, like a sigh, and Ginny could tell without looking up that she was smiling.
"Well. Honestly most of the main parts were used in the advertising, so I'm sure you heard the gist. I think he handled it all well, but... I know it's awful to have it all centerstage in the public eye again."
Ginny knew that 'it all' meant all the questions about her. She shrugged. She still hadn't told Hermione about the kiss, the real spark that had lit the fuse, and she felt uncomfortable. Like they were poking too closely at a raw nerve she wasn't ready to expose yet.
"I just don't understand why he did that — it seems so uncharacteristic for him to give an interview — it's absurd."
She frowned at Hermione, expecting her friend to mirror her expression of indignant confusion back to her. But instead, a familiar look fell over Hermione's features. A patient, slightly pitying look that said, 'yes you do, think a little harder'.
"Oh, Ginny, isn't it obvious?"
"Hermione, do you have any idea how often you say that, about things that are not obvious to ninety-nine percent of people?"
Hermione laughed at this and tucked her hair behind her ears self-consciously. Then she met Ginny's eyes steadily.
"Well, to be fair, I'm more in the loop at the moment than you are. Ginny, that interview was largely orchestrated by Harry. Draco too, but it was completely ulteriorly motivated."
"Wait — what — HARRY?" Ginny demanded, her sense of absurd unreality increasing as she imagined Harry of all people, saying to Malfoy of all people, 'hey mate! you know what's great in times like these— press interviews'.
But then she thought she understood. All the time he had spent talking about how busy his life in England was. The monotonous focus on trade policy, the public declaration of his work in Trinity Teneo, the distancing himself from his father.
"Was it... you mean that had something to do with... whatever he's doing in Germany?"
Hermione nodded. She looked furtively at Ginny, as though weighing something.
"Yes," she said, finally. "He's been working his way into this new group, and they're actually very anti-England and anti-Death Eater, even though they completely embrace Dark Magic and have most of a same values — but it's a nationalism thing — anyways. There was an incident. They planned this elaborate ploy to try and get him to slip up, I think their leader has always been a little suspicious of him. Luckily he's quick on his feet and caught onto what was happening. It was really scary, actually. Harry lost contact with him for a week. Anyways. It kind of ended up cementing his induction into the group, and Harry felt like something like this, a public declaration of everything, or some of the things, he's been telling them, would help squash any lingering suspicion. They think he's helped us with Trinity in order to spite his father and infiltrate our Ministry's defense systems. And they love that he's well positioned in trade and government."
Ginny stared at Hermione, her brain stuck and whirring around the words incident and it was really scary and lost contact with him for a week.
"He and Harry pre-approved all the questions first, and honestly the only reason they allowed so many about you was to publicly distance you and Malfoy as much as possible. Romantically at least. If they knew how Malfoy feels about you, it would put you in so much danger. If they already don't trust him and want to scare or threaten him at any point—"
Feels about you, how Malfoy feels about you
"—anyway, Diana is working with Malfoy, kind of, and she agreed to keep up their public appearance of dating for now, just in case something like that does happen. She has security, her family is so wealthy, and she felt fine about keeping up that front for now. It actually helps with their work, I think. I don't quite know the details of her involvement."
Ginny's mind was still whirring over choice facts and phrases. It felt suddenly like weeks ago that she had been standing in Robertson's, flirting with Connor and lamenting about fifth years giggling about her presence in the tabloids.
"Ginny... are you okay?"
Ginny swung her eyes slowly to Hermione, realizing too late that they were full of tears. She blinked and cleared her throat, letting out a shaky breath. Out for 5 counts through a small space in your lips.
"Uh... I, don't know. That's... a lot. I honestly just thought it was dumb press stuff. I wasn't thinking about any of that. Which was really stupid," she finished, in disbelief at herself.
"No, it isn't. You don't know what they've been up to, how would you have connected the two things," Hermione countered patiently. She reached for Ginny's hand. Ginny felt slightly battered. She hadn't been prepared for Draco Malfoy to enter into her day this fully. She closed her eyes.
"Why are you using the present tense," she said, looking up at Hermione.
"What?"
"Why did you say 'if they knew how he feels about me'? Hermione that was months ago, we haven't spoken for ages."
Hermione said nothing, just continued to look at her patiently. Then she took a slow breath and shook her head.
"I don't know," she said easily. And she left it at that. It was nearly two o'clock, she had to go back to work, and Ginny had a meeting with the teachers.
Hermione thanked Ginny for lunch and they parted, Hermione hugging her for a few seconds longer than usual. Ginny left feeling slightly misty-eyed, and more emotionally taxed than she had expected to feel today.
The rest of the week passed quickly.
Ginny received an owl from Connor on Wednesday, with an address and time in surprisingly neat handwriting. She smiled and wrote out a reply, inviting him to the children's play on Saturday after their dinner, and applying energy to focus her thoughts on feeling excited about the prospect of a date with someone whose company felt simple and warm.
On Thursday, Ginny spent the day helping the kids with the dress rehearsal for their holiday play. It was a fun day. She apparated home exhausted, full from laughter and the buzzing energy of a theatrical production.
On Friday, she had a meeting with Watson about the upcoming Quiddich season. Then, she went to Braddocke to meet with the maids, having promised them she would run some errands in town concerning the winter linen collection.
At five o'clock she jogged up the stairs in search of Tooby, who had requested she stop by to pick up some stained pillowcases that even the house elves hadn't been able to clean. Some sort of accidental slime charm that one of the kids had set on the other beds in his dorm. Molly was their final hope.
She had emerged from the small door to the elves' quarters, following Tooby into the second floor common room in search of a dulled silver vase for Molly to look at as well. They were behind the ornately carved screen that separated a large desk by the window from the rest of the room, when she heard him enter.
Or, rather, his entrance was announced by a chorus of excited voices, causing her heart to stop and her head to swing around so fast, her hair stung the side of her face.
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy!" A pack of five of the children had leapt up from their circle when Malfoy entered the room.
The children, all under eight years old and one as young as four or five, clustered around Malfoy. Two of them were holding hands and the smaller of the two was vibrating with excitement. Ginny knew they were about to perform a skit from the holiday play and bit her lip on a grin.
Malfoy had paused, appraised the reality that a group of children was running to him, and made a bemused expression like, 'okay, this is happening.' Then to Ginny's utter astonishment, he smiled. He hadn't seen her.
"Okay, first of all," he drawled, though in a voice so full of humor that two of the children started to giggle immediately, "please don't call me Mr. Malfoy- that's my father, call me Draco, okay?"
The smallest girl wrinkled her nose and made a funny sound.
"The boys said your name means... Well... What does it mean?"
Draco was trying to keep a straight face.
"Dragon," he said, widening his eyes. A couple of the children made a 'oooo' noises
"That's cool!" One of the boys exclaimed at once. "I told, you Billy! I wish I was named after a dragon! Or a lion! Or a manticore!"
His voice had peaked with wild excitement and Malfoy was now biting his lip and trying not to grin.
"You want to be named after a manticore?" He repeated in a deadpan. "I mean, I suppose we could make that happen."
"Mantis!" Exclaimed the boy, leaping forward and puffing his chest. He was one of the smallest boys of the group, so this was actually very cute. Draco was still trying not to laugh and managed to raise his eyebrows and nod somberly, giving a small nod of acquiescence to the boy.
"Alright then, Mantis, so —"
"Mr. Mal- Draco, Draco!" The little girl was pulling at the sleeve of Malfoy's robes, as his back was now to her.
"Lily!" Chided one of the caretakers in a soft voice as she walked by, "don't pull on his robes."
Malfoy grinned at the caretaker and shook his head, raising a hand in a way that said 'its fine'. The caretaker snorted, ruffling Lily's hair as she passed.
Lily had removed her fingers from where they had been intertwined in the fabric of Malfoy's robes. She watched the caretaker leave over her shoulder and then leaned back to Malfoy immediately, pressing her hands on his shoulder and rocking back and forth.
"Yes?" Malfoy said, looking at her with an expression that betrayed all his attempts not to smile. His eyes were soft in a way that Ginny had only seen once before.
"Um," Lily spluttered in the way small children do, taking a gasp of air in her excitement to speak, "his name is Tigris and he's named after a tiger."
She pointed to a boy in the corner.
"You don't say," Malfoy said to her, as though receiving a very important piece of news. He crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed the little boy, who was reading alone on the couch. He cocked his head in a peculiar way and made a 'mmm' noise in his chest. "I can see it. I believe it. A very noble name."
Lily nodded, still rocking, her hands stacked one on top of the other on Draco's shoulder.
"And your name is Lily," Malfoy stated, looking at her now. Lily nodded, and cooed a sing-song-y 'mmmmhmmm'. "Also fitting," Malfoy smiled.
Lily smiled, and blushed. She wrinkled her nose at Draco and made a face, and then scurried away, to the other side of the room, coming back with a book.
"Do you know what a lily looks like?" she asked. She padded over to him with the book and leaned against his bent knee, as though it were a countertop, setting the book on him and opening to a dog-eared page. Malfoy leaned backwards in surprise, holding his arms back as though unsure of what to do with them, but then shifted, bracing a palm on the floor and seeming to resign himself to staying on ground-level and allowing a little girl to use him as a table.
"I do, in fact, there are some in the kitchens downstairs as we speak. But that's a beautiful drawing," he added hastily, as the little girl looked lovingly down at the book. Ginny's heart ached. She loved Lily and knew that the book was something she had carried with her from the orphanage; it was a prized possession. Lily traced an outline that Ginny could not see with a tiny finger. Malfoy's movement stilled. He was watching the small girl carefully, and took a slow, visible pull of air inward, seemingly coming to the same feeling that Ginny had. Then Lily stopped.
"Wait. There are lilies here?" she asked, as though it had taken a minute to hear Draco's words.
"Yeah," Malfoy smiled. His voice was very soft. "Usually in the Spring."
The little girl looked around the room, as though freshly in awe. She peered at the vase of poinsettias for a moment and closed her book, looking excited.
"There's lots of flowers here," said one of the others, a taller blonde boy named Alfred. Then to Malfoy, he explained, "nothing really grew around the orphanage, it was too cold up there. But, Lily —"
Alfred widened his eyes at the little girl, conveying something theatrically meaningful, and Lily jumped up, brushing her hair behind her ears with one clumsy hand and rushing to stand with the others. They started a skit from tomorrow's Holiday play. Malfoy looked surprised and amused, and at one point, glanced up and caught Ginny watching him.
He looked at her for a long moment, a series of changes passing through his eyes. Then a tiny hand fluttered across his chest and Lily demanded that he pay attention, so he turned away from Ginny in mock-chastisement, leaning back on his heels to watch with full attention.
Madame Reeves, the main and most commanding of the Nannies had been watching with an austere smile and patiently crossed arms. She swooped down upon them in a swish of robes and clapping hands as soon as they'd finished, ushering them into order for reading time and insisting they give Mister Malfoy a break.
Malfoy bit his lip in amusement at the sudden flurry of motion and flashed his eyebrows at Madame Reeves in silent thanks. He stood slowly, smoothing his robes. There was a guarded set in his shoulders and Ginny could see him wrestling with the inevitability of having to talk to her; seeing as they'd accidentally wound up in the same room, it would be rude not to. She watched him, ignoring the spike in her heartbeat to the best of her ability, as he turned and made his way to her, rubbing his neck and looking fixedly at the tapestry to her left.
"Sorry," he said in a hushed voice, as the kids found spots around the room to read, with only a few small fights breaking out over the best ones. "I didn't think you'd be here."
Ginny's heart caught in her throat. Her cheeks reddened and she breathed a half laugh, tearing her eyes away from his. He looked unmistakably glad to see her and she couldn't bear to wrestle with the small light of hope that ignited in her chest.
"No," she stammered, shaking her head at the floor, "don't be sorry. I don't want you to avoid coming over just because I'm here."
She looked up at him and he looked down at his hands. He grinned at them and took a slow breath.
"Yeah. No. I know. Don't worry, I didn't mean it quite like that," he shook his head at himself.
"It's good to see you," she blurted before she could stop herself. Her body felt alive and happy to be in the presence of her friend again. He made a low, noncommittal noise and nodded slowly, his gaze fixed in the space between them.
"I'm-"
"You know-"
"- oh - Sorry, you can-"
"No! You go ahead, I ..."
He cleared his throat and chuckled quietly, running a finger over the bridge of his nose.
"Fuck. Ginny - I -," he bit his lip and glanced at her for a second before looking away, grinning at the wall beside them, "don't tell me we've lost the ability to carry a simple conversation."
Ginny smiled, breathing a silent laugh through her nose.
"No," she said, feeling a fluttering in her stomach that made it hard to think or speak, "of course we can. We're just out of practice."
He laughed.
"Yeah," he said, still chewing on his lip and not meeting her eyes.
"How-"
"-Look, I've got to go," he said, turning his watch on his wrist.
"Oh," Ginny felt stupidly crestfallen. She flared with frustration at herself. She had absolutely no right to feel that way. Not when she had created this disconnect in the first place. She smiled weakly. "Alright then."
"Not because of you," he said awkwardly, finally meeting her eye. He crossed his arms and shrugged in one, disjointed movement. Then waved a hand between them in an aimless zig-zag. "I just- I have a meeting at the Ministry and I'm already late. I just - got caught up."
He gestured towards the kids, smiling as he looked at them; small furrowed brows and books that filled entire laps. It was a smile that faded when he turned back to her.
"But it is good to see you," he added, sounding scripted. He frowned slightly after he said it and fixed her with a strange look. She felt herself nodding absurdly; like one of her father's bobble-heads.
"Yes," she heard herself say, emphatically. Too emphatically. "Yes - of course. You too."
Her last word betrayed how crestfallen she felt and she bit her lip, smiling in vulnerable embarrassment at herself. Malfoy's eyes widened. They shone with something she couldn't place and his brows continued to draw together until he shook himself, clearing his throat and backing away, issuing an overly-friendly, "bye," once he had half-turned away from her.
Ginny stood in place once he'd left the room, gripping the desk behind her and reckoning with the cascade of feelings that coursed through her in the stuffy silence of the full-room of small readers.
She picked up a book, though reading was the farthest thing from her mind; sinking into a velvet armchair while Malfoy's hesitant expression swam through her head. It took a full ten minutes for her body and breath to return to normal and she'd hardly had time to think clearly at all, before the entrance of the kid's schoolteacher announced the end of quiet-time.
He was a funny man. Short, stout, always in a suit that made him look rather like a muggle magician. His main tactic for keeping the kid's attention seemed to be taken from muggle magicians as well; in the form of flashy wand tricks and shows of sparks, a flower blooming out of the tip of his wand or else a flurry of bubbles. Other than this, the kids seemed to run all over him and from what Ginny could see, most of their lessons in basic math, history and geography seemed to revolve around him pleading with them to keep still, keep their voices down, and pay attention.
There was a difference, she realized, feeling her eyes glaze as she watched Dellio struggle to gain the attention of the children. There was a difference between Draco and Lucious... and it revolved around power.
She felt her brain forming links carefully, in the way a person slows down to choose words with precision.
Power.
So much of her life and all the things in it, stemmed from power. From being the only girl in the family hierarchy, to a Weasley among her school peers, she'd had to work hard to stake claim on her power in each dynamic. It had always been a creative and intuitive venture, for she was never the largest, the loudest, the richest or the most privileged.
And then a different kind of power.
The kind of power that starts wars. She had felt it, more, perhaps, than anyone else on their side; as her own actions in her first year had been directly in the name of Tom Riddle's personal quest for domination. And she had felt it, in how small and vulnerable their side had been for so long - the humble gathering of Order Members, up against a horrifically growing wave of Death Eaters underground.
And then there was Malfoy.
Strange, how all of these months later, she was still learning fresh lessons from their time spent in his office. Because it occurred to her now, that she had seen something entirely different there. He didn't grab, intimidate, gloat, or underhand. Which was shocking, actually, considering the version of himself that had oozed through the halls of Hogwarts.
I've done terrible things, Weasley.
The Draco she'd come to know operated with a quiet confidence that seemed to permeate each room he occupied; so that anyone he dealt with was put at ease, knowing implicitly the competence, the trustworthiness, of the man they were dealing with. Which, given his family name, was again, shocking.
Draco did not seek the sort of power Tom Riddle had. Because it was not personal gain he was after, was it? Tom Riddle's quest, Lucious Malfoy's quest, the quest of so many of the Death Eaters... had contained a narcissism that was not in Draco.
It was more, that he wanted to be established so that he could stand apart from his father. There were also unmistakable undertones of penance in the things Draco chose. In the way he did things.
Wether he was aware of it or not. His success, as much as it had been a point of contention between her brothers and him at school, had just come to him. And it still did. He didn't seek it out so much as continue to move forward in his apathetically driven way - and people were just drawn to him. Perhaps because he was so fully empty of qualities such as 'trying' or 'caring'. He just did what he did. He walked into situations, saw what needed to be done, and did it.
Ginny recalled the change in him; the way that apathy had sparked into something else, as they had finished Trinity Teneo. He had been inspired, actually inspired, by something that spread goodness.
He and Lucious were different. Their motives were very different. She felt a flush rise to her cheeks at the thought that he had worked for years to differentiate himself from his father, from his family... and here she was, continually refusing to allow him to be his own person in her eyes.
What had felt so confusing, so fuzzy four months ago, suddenly felt clearer than night and day. Draco was not Lucious. He had literally just declared this on national radio.
Ginny let out a shaky breath, dropping her eyes to the floor as they prickled dangerously. A small hand tugged at the hem of her cloak, and she looked around, to find the welcome distraction of Delilah, who had come to show her a small, still-wet finger-painting.
The following day passed in a pre-performance blur. Ginny immersed herself in props, costumes and stage directions, taking happy refuge in the giddy laughter that kept causing all of the kids to forget their lines, and which helped her forget her nerves about going on a date later.
She arrived at Connor's flat at five, enticed immediately by the aromas wafting into the hallway. Dinner was delicious and his company was easy. He relaxed her, and she felt herself falling into the flow of the evening within only a few minutes of arriving.
They attended the Holiday play, and Connor fared well for himself while Ginny apologetically ran around helping with last minute touches and greeting some of the Ministry officials who had been part of opening Braddocke, all of whom had been invited to the festivities.
It was a happy night. She was happy. She felt warm and sleepy from the wine, the kids, the show, and the kiss on the cheek that Connor left her with in the foyer of the manor.
She apparated back to her flat just after 11, on the sort of cozy cloud that such evenings provide. She walked up the stairs of her building, humming one of the songs from the play and hunting through her pockets for her keys. As she neared her floor, she was met with the sounds of a commotion.
Knocking, a small explosion, the smell of smoke, a deep voice cursing, followed by Madame Bissette's fussy tones, exclaiming about the hour — to be specific. The responding voice was a soothing stream of male French, that made Ginny stop in her tracks.
From what she could hear from her vantage point half a flight of stairs down, Mme Bissette had been immediately put at ease. In fact, the old woman's reply was practically a purr.
Gliding up the stairs as though in a dream, Ginny came upon her elderly neighbor and the owner of the familiar voice, with a feeling of complete disbelief.
She cleared her throat and Madame Bissette paused her purr of French to look over her shoulder. She scowled when she saw Ginny.
A disheveled Draco Malfoy, however, grinned widely through a split and bleeding lip, swaying on the spot behind the frenchwoman.
"Ah, impeccable timing, as usual, Weasley."