Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Matchmaker, sung by the people in Fiddler on the Roof, which is an awsome movie

The Bride Hunt

Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match
Find me a find, catch me a catch
Matchmaker, matchmaker look through your book
And make me a perfect match
-- Matchmaker, from Fiddler on the Roof

Ginny was over at Harry's house for dinner. Harry, for one, couldn't comprehend why Ginny seemed more cheerful than she had ever been in the past three years. She didn't tear up at random objects that reminded her of him, as an example. Not that she cried in front of him anymore.

If Harry hadn't known better, he could have sworn that Ginny didn't cry anymore, because that last time she cried in front of anyone was at her wedding, in his arms. She didn't let anyone see her tears after that. Harry supposed it was her way of staying strong.

Ginny was staring out into space. She was thinking about Draco again. She had always thought of him as pretty, but how wrong she was. He had a powerful aura surrounding him. His form exuded sexuality and masculinity. Sinfully so.

"Ginny?"

"Ginny? Are you alright?"

"What? Oh Harry, sorry, I was just thinking about something, that's all." Harry had an urge to ask what that certain 'something' was, but decided against it.

They sat in comfortable silence, drinking tea, until Ginny decided to leave. Harry suddenly wished that he could make her truly happy again.

Draco and Ginny decided to meet at the coffee shop for the first of what Draco had now christened 'the Bride Hunt'. Ginny had silently agreed with him. Upon reaching Starknuts, they split the packet in half and began reading the profiles.

A few minutes into reading Draco said, "Make sure the ones you pick out are sane."

Ginny just snorted and kept on reading. Draco was indignant. "I'm serious. And ask me if you see any sane behavior to make sure it is sane."

"Whatever."

Draco looked over the top of the paper at Ginny. She was wearing the most conservative and unflattering clothes he had ever seen on twenty something year old. And that dark red hair was tied mercilessly in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. I wonder how she would look with her hair down. She bit her lip as she read something and Draco's eyes traveled to them.

"Is there something you want?"

"Hm?"

"You were staring at me."

"Oh." Had he really just checked out a Weasley?

They continued to read the profiles, only getting up occasionally to buy more coffee. Draco kept crumpling up profiles and throwing them in the trash can near him. In Ginny's case, she would sometimes mutter to herself, or she would just ask Draco outright.

"Hey Malfoy!"

"What Weaslette?"

"How do you like women who own pets?"

Draco thought. "I guess if it doesn't bite me or anything, and if it's clean." Remembering Chaton and what was left of his boots he added, "And as long as it doesn't chew my clothes."

Ginny sighed. "That doesn't eliminate much. We would have to meet the pet and you can't do that without meeting the woman. Can't you just make up your mind? Just tell me if you like cats better than any other pet or something."

"I like cats more than owls, but owls are more useful than cats. Of course, just not owls like that tiny fluff ball you had."

"Hey! Pig was a good owl. A bit energetic, but cute."

"Exactly my point. He was too hyper to be useful, from what I saw."

"He was too useful!" Then she stopped talking and the he heard instead the scratching of a quill.

He looked up to see Ginny writing in a notebook. He sat for a few seconds before his curiosity got the better of him. "Is that notebook just for me?" He couldn't help his egotistical tone.

"No." Ginny's answer did not satisfy Draco.

"Then what is it?"

"My diary."

It was nearly four in the afternoon when Ginny thought of something.

"Malfoy, do you want a Pureblooded witch?"

He didn't expect that question. "I don't know." Seeing Ginny's questioning look, she obviously expected him to say 'yes' right away, he tried to explain.

"I was brought up in a Pureblooded family where I was taught that Purebloods were better than muggleborns, always. As I grew older and Voldemort ascended to power, I realized that these Pureblooded wizards and witches were killing countless innocent people. People who had no reason to die simply because they were born with a different lineage."

Ginny certainly didn't expect that! But Draco wasn't finished.

"I struggled with myself to come to such a decision. Oftentimes, I would compare myself with you Weasleys, as Bloodtraitors, you know, and I don't ever want to be like my father. Ever. But I also want to preserve the ancestry and – oh, I don't know – the culture of such a Pureblooded family. Learning about one's past often strengthens one's own identity. But also to use such power that comes with blood wisely. So I'm not sure if I want a Pureblooded witch. But there's not many left anyway."

Ginny nodded her head in agreement. "True, and I suppose you wouldn't want to get married to Pansy Parkinson." She laughed. But she was really impressed with how he thought now. "So what do you say we look for Pureblooded to Half-Blooded witches for now, and go from there?"

"It's a plan, then."

It was five in the afternoon when Draco thought of something.

"Hey Weasley, can these women lie on those forms? Like what they like to do or change what they look like?"

Ginny smiled. "Way ahead of you Malfoy. The forms that create these profiles are spelled against blatant lying. If you're unsure of what you like or what is your favorite food that's okay. Why? What brought that question up?"

"This lady said that she likes dancing, but she can't dance ballroom. That's an oxymoron unto itself." Draco sniffed in disgust.

Ginny shook her head. "Is she a Half Blood or a muggleborn?" When Draco nodded she continued, "In the Muggle world ballroom dancing in considered extremely formal and most people don't bother to learn it." Draco looked unbelieving. "It's true! Even my brothers didn't learn ballroom dancing. Hermione taught them how to dance just regularly. It's only slightly different from informal Wizarding dance."

"Show me."

"Not here!"

"Yes you can."

"No I won't."

"YES you can."

"NO."

"YES."

Ginny was growing tired of this childish game, even though she knew Draco was just teasing. "Let me tell you what, Malfoy. We'll break even. One day I'll take you to a nightclub where I'll show you." In truth, she hadn't been to a nightclub in many years, though her brothers and Hermione had gone. Mostly because he hadn't liked to dance, she realized now.

Satisfied with her response, Draco smirked and returned to the original topic. "You said your brothers didn't learn ballroom dancing. What about you?"

"I wanted to learn it ever since the Yule Ball in my third year." Ginny smiled. "I didn't want to become like Neville, and step on everyone's feet."

Somehow the conversation strayed onto ballroom dancing instead of looking for potential brides, but it seemed neither Draco nor Ginny cared. They had fun talking and arguing over meaningless things.

"I haven't danced in a long time though, mostly because there was no one to dance with – " she was cut off by the loud belltower that tolled seven.

Draco hadn't realized it was so late already. He couldn't make it to his mother's for dinner now, so her turned to Ginny and said, "Weasley, want to have dinner with me?" That really didn't come out the way he meant it.

Ginny sharply looked up. "What?"

Draco inhaled sharply, almost nervously. "Since it's so late, and I can't meet my mother now. She needs her rest. You probably need food too."

"Oh." She really didn't think Draco could be so considerate. "I don't know – "

"Weaslette, it's okay. I want to, " and I wonder why, he thought, "and I'll pay."

Ginny was slightly confused, but she nodded in agreement. She asked, "Where are we going?"

"A nice place." He didn't say anything more as he swept down Diagon Alley, Ginny keeping pace beside him.

About ten minutes later they were standing in front of a very nice restaurant labeled Mariage d'Amour. Ginny swallowed.

"Malfoy, are you sure you want to eat here? It looks expensive."

Smirking, Draco said, "Well, Weasley, to me, its not expensive." Noticing her shocked look, he lowered his egotistical tone and said softly, "It's really okay, don't worry about it."

Ginny nodded and walked in, Draco following. Ginny was wondering how he could be so nice and so mean at the same time when she noticed all the French words, everywhere. Draco was speaking French fluently to a man in a suit. Obviously he was asking for a table, for a moment later they were seated at a candlelit table.

Ginny picked up a menu and immediately put it down. Draco was surveying his when he noticed that Ginny was looking at the surroundings instead of what she was going to eat tonight.

"I know the restaurant is beautiful, but aren't you going to order?"

"Malfoy, malfoy, malfoy. I don't read or speak French."

"Oh."

"Such a smart one."

They were finishing up their dinner – Draco just ordered for Ginny (and luckily it wasn't something gross like snails) – when the clock struck eight.

"It's getting late, and I should be going." Was that a regretful tone in her voice?

"Alright."

They were outside of the Mariage d' Amour and Ginny was putting all her belongings in a bag, her back toward Draco. She didn't notice when a small piece of paper fluttered to the floor out of her diary. Draco did.

He stooped to pick it up, intending to hand it back to her when he caught sight of what it was.

Two intertwined figures were sitting on the beach looking out toward the sunset. Someone had obviously taken it without letting the two lovers know, since their backs were facing the camera. If Draco hadn't noticed the auburn hair shinning in the setting sun he would have thought it was beyond cheesy. As it was, Draco felt a pit in the bottom of his stomach and didn't know what that meant. But all thoughts stilled when Ginny turned around to say goodbye before she left.

The moment she caught sight of Draco with the picture in his hand she froze. So many emotions hitting her at once, she couldn't do anything. All she could do was grab the photo, and run.

Draco didn't even have time to register she was gone.

In that split second when she saw the picture in Draco's hands Ginny had felt devastated. She had almost forgotten her past. The past that she couldn't forget and would never forget. And everything just came back to her again. The feelings, the questions, the doubt had surfaced again. What had she ever done wrong for him to sleep with her bridesmaid? It was her fault somehow, wasn't it? Maybe it was just because she was Ginny, the Ginny that he never really wanted. No, she thought, we had something real, and I destroyed it.

What would Draco think of her? Why would it matter anyway? She didn't believe in love anymore. It was an illusion that too many people fell for and too many people got hurt. She wouldn't and couldn't fall for anyone anymore. She would just get hurt.

Looking back at the picture, she decided that love was a hopeless case and there were no fairy tales in real life.

Like there would be no Prince Charming.

Author's Notes: Okie Dokie. Hope that wasn't too confusing. Alot of you guys said that Draco likes Ginny and Ginny likes Draco. Not to burst your bubbles or anything, but they're not madly in love...yet. They're just attracted to each other, like how you see that one person and you think, "OH MY GOD" kinda thing.But Ginny has a past, and its not going to just go down the drain because Draco came and swept her off her feet (haha, literally). Plus, I don't think that anyone could fall in love like that. Lust maybe. Or what we think is love. But don't worry. There will be lots of Draco/Ginny in the next few chapters I think. Anywayes. I'm not sure if it was quite clear what happened to Ginny when she saw the picture of her and her ex in Draco's hands, but I wanted it so it was like subconsciously, she felt that there could be no love for her, especially with a guy she's supposed to be trying to find a woman for. Just to make that clear.

By the way, for your info, mariage d'amor, the name of the French resturaunt, means dreams of love, or that's what I think. Correct me if I'm wrong. But there was a Chinese translation underneath it and thats what it said. I got it from that one piano piece by Paul Seville or somthing, . I'm too lazy to go and get the piece to figure it out. But if you can play it or listen to it, its really a very beautiful song. Wait, I'm going to get it. I can't stand being indecisive/incorrect like this. Okay, it's Paul de Senneville and Olivier Toussaint. I don't own it, those two guys do. And this is getting quite long and I give you brownie points for reading through it, though the top half is probably useful.

Thank you everyone, and new and old reviewerers, I love you all!

falling into you