11/28/21
Author's Note: I am not sorry for making the Weasley wedding party do the Cha Cha Slide. :) Obviously, my update schedule is all messed up now, but I'm going to push on regardless of how long it takes.
Holidating
by idreamofdraco
Weasley Wedding 2006
A CLOSED sign confronted Draco when he arrived at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' front door a week after the solstice. It was 2pm on a Wednesday, a time when surely the shop should be open and busy with customers. And yet the sign was flipped and the windows were dark.
A small child of indeterminate age popped up next to Draco, startling him, and yanked on the door handle. Locked.
"Mummy! The shop's not open!" the child screeched over her shoulder, tears welling in her eyes as she continued to pull on the handle as if the state of its security might change any second.
The mother quickly swept the child away, a look of immense relief on her face as they departed.
Draco turned back to the door when it suddenly opened a crack. Verity's head poked out, her eyes darting left and right as if to make sure Draco hadn't been followed.
"Come in, come in," she said in a loud whisper. She opened the door just wide enough for Draco to uncomfortably slip in and nearly shut it on the hem of his robes.
"You're closed?" Draco asked.
"Yeah, have been for a week now."
"Since…?"
"Yeah," she said with a sigh. "After the solstice, I made George tell me everything and convinced him he had to close until we went through all the inventory and checked for defects. It's been a long few days." She wore that week in the slump of her shoulders, in the lank greasiness of her hair, in the bags under her eyes. But she perked up a little as she asked, "How's your finger?"
Draco held up his bandaged hand. "Good as new," he replied dryly.
Verity smiled, amused. "So I see. That's why it's still bandaged up."
He hid his hand in the folds of his robes at his side. That morning he'd had a checkup appointment with Justin, who had tested Draco's ability to bend his fingers and grip things and announced him fully functional once more. The finger was a weird color compared to the rest of his appendages, darker and mottled. Justin said the bruising would clear up eventually, but Draco didn't like looking at it, so he'd made Justin wrap it back up.
"Is George here?" he asked.
Suspicion filled him immediately as she began to wring her fingers together, a sheepish smile curving her mouth.
"So here's the thing."
Dread replaced the suspicion, and Draco knew he was not going to like what Verity was about to say. He'd received an owl from George yesterday asking him to come to the shop after lunch. He'd assumed George wanted to formally apologize, maybe give Draco a gift of some sort. It was the very least he could do for maiming him.
Verity went on. "George didn't send you that owl. I did."
Hmm. Maybe Draco should have known. It had seemed strange for a grown man to dot his I's and end his sentences with tiny smiley faces. George was a bit of an eccentric anyway, so Draco hadn't thought too hard about it.
"And the purpose of this meeting is…?" he prompted.
"I want you to ask George again. Make the offer, I mean. Give him money. Help!" Her struggle to verbalize her request would have been humorous if Draco hadn't suddenly gone pale—paler—and lightheaded. "Help us. Help him. Please. If… if you still want to, that is."
"I didn't prepare for this. I don't have a proposal—I didn't practice a pitch—I didn't dress—"
"It's okay!" Verity said, cutting him off before he could get too worked up. "I know. It was mean of me to trick you to come here like this. An overprepared presentation won't work on him anyway. Just… just tell him what you told me at the solstice festival."
Draco wracked his brain to remember what he'd said, but suddenly his entire life was blank. He couldn't remember anything he'd said or done before stepping foot inside the shop.
Maybe his face gave his panic away, because she nudged him with an elbow and said, "The spirit of friendship, remember?" Then she winked.
Winked. Who did that?
And who blushed when someone winked at them? Apparently Draco.
She shepherded him up the stairs and for some reason he allowed it. Okay. This was not a big deal. The worst that could happen is that George could decline the offer again, which wouldn't be a bad thing because that meant Draco got to keep his money. He didn't think about the possibility of offending George so grievously that he never talked to Draco again. He also didn't think about why that outcome mattered to him. Just pushed those thoughts aside. Not quite Occlumantically; mostly out of sheer determination.
Verity stopped him in front of a door and knocked. There was a muffled "Come in," and then she opened the door and pushed Draco inside, closing the door firmly behind him.
Draco glanced around what must be the workroom where the literal magic happened. A counter of unlit cauldrons lined part of one wall. A wooden cabinet shared a wall with a shelf of cubby holes filled with scrolls. Some of those scrolls haphazardly littered the table in the center of the room, where George sat with his back to the door, staring at a piece of parchment that he held up inches away from his nose.
"Afraid I'm still not hungry, love," he said.
Draco might have smiled if his palms hadn't been so sweaty. "That's good as I didn't bring any food."
George lowered the parchment and sighed deeply before turning. He looked as rough as Verity did. Hair uncombed, patchy stubble dotting his chin and jaws, dark bags under his eyes.
"Not surprised to see me, I take it."
"No. Verity's been talking about you non-stop all week." George scowled. "I've got to say, I haven't been a fan."
Draco found his ability to grin at that. "You don't have to worry about me."
"No, you've got your sights set on redder hair, don't you?"
"I don't have my sights set on anyone."
George rolled up the parchment and tossed it onto the scroll pile on the table. Then he swung around on the stool to fully face Draco. "That's not what Verity tells me."
"Verity has an active imagination," Draco replied in a tone that put an end to this line of conversation.
Draco couldn't afford to set his sights on Ginny. She wasn't truly available, not as long as Potter moving on with his life still had the ability to hurt her. He hadn't managed to ask her to be his holidate again, and he wasn't sure if they could call each other friends yet, though he wanted to. What they were to each other remained a mystery.
Besides, Draco hadn't heard from Ginny since the solstice. He remembered her helping him home from St. Mungo's and settling him into his favorite armchair, but his memory went fuzzy after that until he woke up later in the morning. He didn't even remember her leaving his flat. The thought of what he could have said while under the influence of pain potions made him want to take a one-way trip into the Forbidden Forest. Whatever he'd said or done, it seemed he had scared Ginny away because she hadn't checked on him since she deposited him at home, which wasn't very friendly of her.
It was for the best, really. If they weren't in contact, if he never saw her again, he couldn't get his hopes up.
"Did you know," George said, apropos of nothing, "that Harry gave us the capital to start our business?"
Draco frowned. "No, I didn't know that."
"He gave us his Triwizard prize money. We used it to develop products and had enough left over to lease this space. There wouldn't be a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes without Harry."
Draco frowned harder. If all George was going to do was gush over how great Potter was, he would leave.
But George's gaze hardened somehow. The whole of him looked heavier, like he could no longer carry his own weight, let alone the weight of his burdens.
"I'm afraid there may no longer be a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes without you."
So. George already knew why Draco had come. He pulled another stool out from the table and patted the seat, inviting Draco to sit.
He did.
"Is your offer still on the table?" It looked like George was eating glass as he asked. His resignation and reluctance were unmistakable in the tension around his mouth, the furrow between his brows, his hands white knuckling his knees.
"I'm afraid not," Draco replied solemnly. When George's head bowed, his whole body slumping in defeat, he added, "It is still in Gringotts though."
George's head rose slowly, his face frozen in an expression of disbelief and regret mixed with a half-formed smile. It was tragic. "Was that a joke?"
Draco pounded his chest with a fist and coughed to dislodge the tight feeling burning up his throat. "A terrible one, I'm afraid." He gagged.
Tears filled George's eyes which caused alarm to fill Draco's heart. When the dam burst, it was with an explosive peal of laughter that stunned Draco, leaving him wondering if he should send for Verity. Or maybe a Healer. Or maybe one of those Muggle brain doctors who took notes as their patient rambled about their woes while reclined on a sofa.
Abruptly, the laughter ended. "Okay, but seriously."
"Seriously, the offer is still on the table. But I have one condition." Draco waited for George to take a steadying breath and nod before continuing. "Verity needs to have a bigger role in the business. She's smart. She lives and breathes WWW, and she knows the science and magic behind your products as well as you do. She's criminally underutilized serving customers at the front of the shop. And as your future wife, shouldn't she be your partner in business as well as life?"
George's expression remained surprisingly stoic as he considered Draco's words, but when he finally looked up from his lap, he gulped, his expression uncertain. "I'll ask her. That's all I can do."
Yes, that's all Draco could ask of George, too. He got the impression that Verity would be glad to step up and take on more responsibilities if her fiance would stop keeping her at bay. It must be difficult to be in George's position. He had had a life partner once, a twin, who ran this business with him. Now that his brother was gone, he was protective of what they'd built together and didn't know how to let anyone else in. Wasn't sure how to work with someone who hadn't shared a womb, a room, a childhood with him.
As an only child, Draco could somewhat understand that feeling. When his parents couldn't help him, he had always relied on himself. He'd never had a sibling, a partner, a lover with whom to share his burdens. He hadn't even had a true friend until Pansy forced herself into his life in their adulthood.
How strong George's love for his brother must be to armor himself with it. Maybe Draco would be fortunate enough to experience that kind of love one day.
"I have a condition, too," George said. "I don't want a handout. I want a loan. When the shop is stable again, when I've got it under control, when we're making a profit, I want to be able to pay you back. That—that's non-negotiable for me."
The stubborn set of his jaw told Draco this condition was his dealbreaker. It didn't matter how much help WWW needed, it didn't matter that declining Draco's offer would likely seal the shop's fate. George's pride demanded that he not accept charity.
This wasn't a charitable gesture. As he'd told Verity at the solstice festival, this was business.
"Why don't we go over the details. Let's talk about what kind of help the shop needs,"—Draco was careful not to say the help George needed—"and negotiate terms."
When Draco had come into the room and George had mistaken him for Verity, George had said something about not being hungry still. It wouldn't surprise Draco if he hadn't eaten all day. The candles flickering dimly around the room were nearly burnt all the way down. Maybe he had spent days in this room, barely eating while he tried to find a solution to his problems that didn't involve reaching out to Draco.
Draco stood. "This is a business meeting, and, as such, I should treat you to lunch while we discuss my proposal."
George's gaze narrowed. "I'd rather not, but it looks like you're going to insist."
"I am. I'll wait for you and Verity downstairs."
Draco didn't wait for George to argue. He found Verity in the hall winding up a piece of flesh-colored string, her eyes shiny.
"Draco…."
He shook his head at her. "None of that."
"But how do I show my appreciation?"
The look on her face made him deeply uncomfortable and also… warm? A swell of emotion surged up inside him at the thought of anyone looking at him the way Verity was looking at him now. He didn't want her appreciation. This was business. He was doing this as much for himself as he was for George.
He kept telling himself that, but it still felt good to be useful and for someone to acknowledge his usefulness. Is this how people with careers felt on a daily basis? Did people with jobs get off on a job well done? Draco couldn't fathom it.
"What you can do is get yourself and George cleaned up so I can take you to lunch," he replied.
Verity beamed and disappeared into the workroom.
Draco waited downstairs at the display window, watching the bustling crowds pass in front of the shop. The voices were muffled and indistinct, which made him feel strange standing alone in an empty, dark shop. Like they were an aquarium exhibit, and he the sole visitor come to learn about marine life. He felt separate from them.
Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes should be as bustling as Diagon Alley. It was unnatural for there to be no customers, no children laughing at a prank product, no beleaguered parents trying to urge their children away from the more disruptive merchandise, no Verity greeting customers, no register ringing with sales, no George demonstrating his wares.
Draco was going to do everything he could to help George and Verity get back on their feet. He'd do it for the mischievous children of the world. For George and Verity. For himself. For Ginny.
He was determined in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.
It felt good.
Ginny had agonized over her plus-one for George's wedding for weeks and finally settled on the last man she'd had a conversation with who wasn't a relation or Draco.
She was regretting her choice now.
While she sat at the bar sipping a mai tai, her date, Justin Finch-Fletchley, was pelvis to pelvis with Draco's date, Pansy, on the dance floor. Their gazes were locked on one another, and they were dancing as if no one else in the world existed but them. The sight reminded Ginny of a movie she'd watched with Hermione once called Dirty Dancing. Both women had giggled through the movie and swooned at the ending, but Ginny was neither giggling nor swooning now. In fact, she turned away, her cheeks turning pink. Some of the moves Justin and Pansy were performing might have been better suited for a bedroom rather than a wedding reception.
Draco, of course, had been at the top of Ginny's list of potential wedding dates, but she hadn't spoken to him since she escorted him home from St. Mungo's on the solstice. Every day she had picked up a quill with the intent to send him a note just to see how he was doing. She never wrote it, which means she never sent it, which means… she was a despicable person for not asking him how his recovery was going for the injury her brother had caused.
She'd kept thinking about whether she'd been too needy with Harry, and her doubts had subdued her into inaction. Surely checking on Draco's health and welfare wasn't a sign of clinginess, but her thoughts had raced ahead of her, imagining his reaction to receiving her owl, him rolling his eyes, tossing her letter in a fire. Why would he want to hear from her when her brother had caused his injury?
And now he was here at George's wedding. Why George thought inviting him was a good idea, and why Draco had accepted the invitation, was beyond Ginny. As one of Verity's bridesmaids, Ginny had stood next to her at the top of the aisle and looked out on all the guests, her eyes apprehensively sweeping them for a familiar head of black hair. But she hadn't found Harry in attendance—she'd found Draco instead. The dissonance between her expectations and reality had her reeling, which is why she was at the bar working on her second cocktail.
The last Weasley wedding Harry had missed had been Percy's a few years ago. An Auror mission had sent him undercover to an unknown location, which meant that Ginny had attended the wedding alone. She'd always hated when he went on assignment. She would make herself sick with worry waiting for him to come back, and begging Ron for information about where he was and what he was doing had been futile. As soon as he returned home, she'd forget all about her anxiety until the next mission, in an endless cycle of fear and relief.
Ginny sucked on an ice cube, letting it clang against her teeth in a satisfying way. She wondered how Cho was handling Harry being away and whether she should send her an owl. If anyone knew what it was like to be left at home with no answers, it was Ginny, and though she and Cho weren't friends, she wouldn't wish that kind of anxiety on anyone. They could commiserate on the experience together, and maybe she could keep Cho in good spirits until he returned. Wizard god knew that Ginny and Hermione had relied heavily on each other while their partners were away.
A thought occurred to her that was so striking, she nearly choked on the ice cube. Ginny pounded her chest with a fist to help her cough it up and quickly crunched the ice before she perished on her brother's happiest day. Her mother would never forgive her if she ruined it by dying.
Then she considered the sudden thought as well as the embarrassment that heated her face at the revelation.
Maybe Cho wasn't sitting at home stewing in fear of the unknown. Maybe she wasn't anxious about Harry's fate. And maybe that was why Harry was with her. It had been easy for Ginny to forget her anxieties after Harry came home, but every time he told her he was leaving again, tension would spark to life between them because Ginny couldn't contain her worry. He almost always left on bad terms, and returned on good ones, the cycle continuing over and over again with every mission.
But Cho wasn't Ginny, and perhaps Cho didn't emotionally cling to Harry the same way Ginny had.
She put her drink down and pushed it away. More than anything she wanted to order something stronger that would make her forget she'd had these thoughts. Instead, Ginny simmered in her humiliation, letting herself feel it.
She hadn't always been so afraid for Harry's safety, had she? She didn't think so. As the years had gone on and she'd tired of his absences, her fear had grown, too. It hadn't just been fear, though. She'd been angry at him for leaving, for choosing to risk his life for everyone else over and over again. Hadn't he already made the ultimate sacrifice during the war and at the Battle of Hogwarts? Ginny hadn't understood why he kept giving himself away, and since he wouldn't marry her, it had felt like he was leaving her with nothing.
Clearly she had forgotten all about those fights with Harry, but now they swarmed her memory, a grim reminder of unhappier moments in their relationship.
Cho would think her ridiculous if Ginny offered comfort where none was needed.
"That's quite a face," someone said from Ginny's left.
She jumped, startled by the interruption. "What?"
Draco sat next to her with an amused tilt of his mouth. For a single moment, pleasure filled Ginny at the sight of him, her happiness overcoming the embarrassment of her deep thoughts. Then she remembered why she was mortified to be in his presence, what an awful ex-holidate she had been to not check up on him after his injury even though she'd been trying to give him space.
"You look like you're in the middle of a crisis," Draco replied.
A blush warmed Ginny's face. "Actually, I am. I was just thinking I might need some therapy. Unresolved issues, repressed memories, etcetera, etcetera."
"Oh." He didn't seem to know how to respond to that. "Do you mind if I join you?"
"In therapy?"
Draco's lips twitched. "No. Here at the bar."
"You're asking after you've already sat down?"
He stood with a frown. "I can go."
"No!" Ginny reached out and grabbed Draco's hand, yanking him back down to his barstool. "I mean, it's fine. You can stay. Would you like the rest of my mai tai?"
He didn't answer her, and it took Ginny a moment to realize why. He was staring down at her hands, which were still grasping his hand in a loose grip. She had begun to rub her thumbs over his skin, a soft caress she hadn't been conscious of performing. And, she noticed, the hand she was groping was the one with the injured finger.
Her first instinct was to return his hand to him and die of embarrassment, but she couldn't make herself let go. Instead, she turned his hand over and let her fingers trace the lines etched into his palm, following them until they ended and then creating new paths up to his finger tips. She outlined each digit before she allowed herself to examine the injured finger. The scar around his knuckle was evident, and the whole finger was a slightly darker color than his other fingers. Ginny gripped it lightly, squeezing it and circling it, and then looked up to see Draco's reaction.
He was flushed with noticeably pink cheeks and red ears, and his mouth was compressed in a tight line. If Ginny wasn't mistaken, he was actually biting his lip. When he met her gaze, his eyes were as dark, lustrous, and reflective as molten silver. In them, she saw what she had done, the gesture she had just imitated on his finger, and that's when she dropped his hand like a scalding ashwinder egg. Now she could die of embarrassment.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
"'Salright," he mumbled back. "I didn't even feel it."
Her curiosity overrode her humiliation just a little bit. "Really? No sensation at all?"
He shook his head. "I'll have that mai tai now."
Ginny slid her unfinished cocktail down the bar to him. "I didn't take you for a mixed drinks kind of man."
He arched an eyebrow at her as he sipped out of the very same straw she'd used. Ginny was mesmerized by the shape of his mouth around the straw, her brain supplying her with additional images of places on her body he could put his mouth next.
"Are you kidding me?"
Ginny shook the images out of her head, her blush deepening at being caught thinking dirty thoughts about him when surely he no longer wished to do dirty things with her. Why would he after his injury and her silence?
"I'd take a mixed drink over firewhisky any day. Or did you forget my love of sweets? It's my philosophy that if alcohol can taste good, it should."
Oh, so he hadn't read her mind. He was just correcting her assumption. "Right. Silly me."
Draco frowned at whatever he saw in her face, setting the drink down to give her his full attention. "Are you alright?"
She swiveled around on her stool and was swiftly reminded why she was sitting at the bar in the first place. "How can I be alright when my date is on the dance floor doing… that."
Draco turned to see what she was gesturing at and choked on his cocktail. "That's practically pornographic."
"They are scandalizing Great-Aunt Muriel."
"Are you sure?" Draco asked. "She seems more intrigued than scandalized to me."
Ginny took another look and saw what Draco meant. Muriel had a hand on her chest as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing, but her eyes were wide and locked on the dancing menace capturing everyone's attention.
"We should do something about that," Ginny said.
They approached their respective dates and delicately cut in by prising Pansy and Justin away from each other.
"You know you're here as my date, right?" she asked Justin, who continued to stare forlornly over her shoulder at, presumably, Pansy dancing with Draco on the other side of the floor. "You've got it bad, mate."
"Do you think she knows?" he asked with a lovesick sigh.
As the lead, Ginny turned them around so she could see what Pansy and Draco were doing. Draco looked like he was scolding her while she pouted.
"Can't say for sure. I didn't think she was interested in holidating anyone more than once."
"I don't want to holidate that woman," Justin said. "I want to marry her."
Ginny snorted a laugh, until she saw his face and realized he wasn't joking. "Oh. That seems, er, sudden."
"When you find the one, you just know."
"How? There's got to be some sort of sign."
Justin tilted his head thoughtfully. "I suppose there is. You just have to be open to seeing it. You can't recognize the signs if you're blatantly ignoring them."
Ginny tried to think back to when she knew for sure that Harry was the one she wanted to marry, but she'd lived with that dream for so long, she couldn't remember it beginning. Before she'd even met Harry, she'd fantasized about meeting him and making him fall in love with her. Those childish dreams had solidified when Ron told her and their family all about his heroic deeds trying to protect the Sorcerer's Stone from Voldemort. She had wanted him so badly, she'd finally manifested her fantasies into reality in her fifth year when they began dating. At the time, it had felt like her entire life had been leading to Harry.
But their relationship had dragged on after the war and languished until, finally, Harry cut it loose. She had been wrong about her life leading to Harry. She'd wanted something that he ultimately hadn't wanted in return, and it was hard to trust her feelings and desires now.
Maybe there had been signs that she and Harry weren't meant for each other, but she'd been closed off to accepting them because she had been so desperate to make her dreams come true. For instance, why hadn't she realized sooner that her resentment towards Harry's career was a red flag their relationship couldn't last?
She steered herself and Justin around the dance floor, keeping her distance from Draco and Pansy while still being able to watch them. Draco was rolling his eyes at his dance partner, but his lips were slightly upturned as if he couldn't hide his amusement at whatever ridiculous thing she was saying. The sight of that slight smile made Ginny's heart flip.
Could there be something between her and Draco besides an intense sexual attraction?
Ginny couldn't trust herself anymore and didn't know how to tell. One thing she did know was that even though she knew he and Pansy were only friends, seeing them dancing together made her stomach burn with acid.
The music changed to a popular group dance song, and a cheer went out across the reception hall as people flocked to the dance floor. It was difficult to hold a conversation while everyone was sliding and criss-crossing in unison. Ginny couldn't even continue her thoughts because she was concentrating so hard on the song's dance instructions. And then a commotion broke out at the front of the floor as someone collapsed while attempting a move that required more intricate footwork.
Justin took off like a Wildfire Whizbang, sliding to his knees next to Pansy as the crowd parted to give them room.
"Tell me where it hurts," he said, his expression deadly serious.
"I think I twisted my ankle," Pansy replied, her attention fixed on Justin's face as if she was seeing him, really seeing him, for the first time in her life.
Justin removed her stiletto and examined her foot and ankle. As soon as Pansy winced with pain, he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the room, her shoe dangling from one of his fingers.
Ginny and Draco's gazes collided, and the hilarity of the moment died in her throat as her heart cha cha-ed real smooth and tripped inside her ribcage. She fled the dance floor and returned to her table to settle her line-dancing organs.
Ron and heavily pregnant Hermione were at the table watching the spectacle on the floor. Now that his partner had been whisked away, Draco slunk off to the bar, but the rest of the guests continued the synchronized dance as if there had been no interruption. Even Great Aunt Muriel had ventured out for a dance, eagerly grasping one of Verity's uncles' arms for support.
Ginny wasn't the only person keeping tabs on Draco. Ron, gaze fixated on the people crowding around the bar, shook his head and said, "Hermione and I have been speculating what Malfoy did to get an invitation. Do you have any ideas?"
Ginny snorted. "What, like getting his finger blown off by the groom isn't a good enough reason to invite him?"
"Maybe," Ron said, but he sounded unconvinced. "Who wants to attend a wedding of people they barely know as an apology for getting dismembered? It doesn't add up. And why didn't you two come together?"
He turned toward Ginny, his gaze narrowing on her in speculation.
She gulped, her face heating under his and Hermione's scrutiny. There was curiosity in Hermione's eyes and accusation in Ron's that Ginny didn't know how to address.
"I was too embarrassed to ask him to be my date. I figured he didn't want to see me anymore after George maimed him."
Ron rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So why didn't he ask you?"
Ginny just shrugged, embarrassed all over again. The fact that Draco had accepted the invitation and brought a date without telling Ginny anything about getting invited was surely proof that he didn't want anything to do with her. The disappointment sat heavy in her stomach. They had just made up from their fight at the Remembrance Day gala, and then his injury had ruined everything. Or maybe Ginny had. She couldn't stop blaming herself for refraining from reaching out to Draco after the accident. If she had, maybe they would have attended George's wedding together.
"Did you know he visited me at work?" Hermione asked, her voice deceptively light.
"What?" both Ron and Ginny said at the same time. "When?"
"A couple weeks ago."
"What did he want?" Ron asked, his ears turning an alarming shade of red.
"To apologize for what happened to me at Malfoy Manor during the war, and for doing nothing to stop it. He said he thinks of that day with regret often."
Neither Ron nor Ginny had a good response to that. Ron's mouth flopped open and closed as if waiting for the right words, or any of them, to fall out. Ginny, on the other hand, turned her head just slightly, searching along the bar for his tall frame, his broad shoulders, his platinum shade of blond hair.
High on pain potions, he'd asked her to apologize to Luna for him, and she'd told him to apologize to her herself. Had he been lucid enough to remember that conversation the next day? It seemed as if Luna was not the only person to whom he'd felt a gnawing desire to share his regrets. Was Hermione telling Ginny about Draco's apology one of those signs Justin had mentioned?
When she finally found him at the bar, he turned at the same moment, their eyes locking. No, he hadn't asked her to be his wedding date, but she also hadn't asked him. Their inability to coordinate aside, there was something undeniable between them, something Ginny was certain couldn't be one-sided.
There was only one way to know for sure.
She was halfway to the bar before she knew what she was doing, and Draco set his drink down as he watched her approach.
"Dance?" she said, half her words getting stuck in her throat.
He glanced at the dance floor. The line dance was still going. Everyone was synchronously clapping their hands, even the guests mingling around the edges of the room. "Now?"
"Next song," she amended.
And then they stood there, waiting, looking at each other. It should have been awkward, and in a way it was, but at the same time it wasn't. Ginny was nervous to put her theory to the test, but she was at ease with him. Somehow, he always put her at ease. She realized it now that they'd been apart for so long. What had made them great holidates was how comfortable he'd made her feel, even when she'd been dead nervous to see Harry with her family again on New Year's Eve, even after the encounter with Harry and Cho on Valentine's Day, even after he'd propositioned her and she'd mistaken his intentions post-St. Patrick's Day. She could kick herself for not taking him seriously back then, but maybe it was better this way. Maybe whatever they were supposed to be to each other wasn't supposed to be built on an emotion as fleeting as lust.
The music switched to a slower song, and without preamble, Draco swept her into his arms and onto the dance floor.
They danced, her arms locked around his neck, his hands sliding along her waist. The press of his fingertips soothed her and sent shivers to every tip and crevice on her body.
No, she wasn't imagining the chemistry between them. A man didn't look at a woman he wasn't interested in like this. He didn't hold her like this. He didn't urge her closer so they could feel each other from chest to hips or subtly press one leg between her thighs, giving only an impression of what it could be like if they could only be alone.
Ginny's heart pounded between her ribs, but the space between their bodies was infinitesimal, so she could feel his heart pounding too.
It wasn't her wild imagination running amuck. Their dancing never lied. This was real. This was a sign.
"Draco…." Ginny said breathlessly, but she forgot whatever she'd meant to say when Draco's head lowered (oh, how he had to lean to reach her). She tilted her chin up, her eyes fluttering closed.
He didn't kiss her. He only rested his cheek on her head. They were moving so slowly, their feet hardly lifting, that he was really holding her rather than dancing with her.
"Something you'd like to say?" he asked. He sounded amused, but Ginny couldn't see his expression to tell for sure. Her face was pressed against his chest, and she was listening to his heart, feeling his warmth, breathing in his delicious smoky-sweet scent.
She swallowed thickly. Her eyes filled with tears, but Ginny didn't know why. She couldn't explain how she was feeling except that it just felt so good to be in someone's arms—his arms specifically—and held like she mattered.
Somehow she managed to form words, but she didn't lift her head and reveal her emotion to him. A laugh fell out of her mouth in an attempt to sound nonchalant. "Clearly seeing other holidates was a total fail on both our parts."
He hummed in agreement. The sensation went directly from his torso and vibrated through her whole body. Wizard god. Why did he feel so good?
"We should try holidating again," she said. Not a question, a suggestion. Her confidence was only marred by the slight wobble of her voice. How mortifying.
There was a noticeable pause when his feet stopped moving. It only lasted a second, and then he stepped back, his hands sliding down her arms to grasp her fingers in his.
Her tears threatened to fall as soon as she saw the look on his face. So. This was a rejection. She should have been used to the feeling by now, but she wasn't. It hurt just as much as—if not more than—it had when Harry had broken up with her.
"I think our holidating days are over," Draco said. He smiled kindly at her, and that was the only reason she wasn't having a total breakdown. Draco Malfoy being kind and considerate of someone else's feelings was shocking enough to distract her from the heartbreak. "I would like us to be something better than holidates," he continued.
Ginny's breath puffed out of her in little pants as her mind raced back to the morning after St. Patrick's Day. To the offer and promise in his eyes. To that kiss she'd stolen from him at the gala, the one that had ruined everything. Her body warmed in anticipation.
"Better? Like what?"
"Friends."
"Friends?" Ginny repeated.
"I could use one more, and I think you could, too."
"Just friends?"
Draco's slight smile strengthened, but his eyes were serious. "There's nothing just about having friends. This isn't a consolation prize, Ginny. You can't see it yet, but you will. Friends are the best thing we could be to each other right now."
"For how long?" she asked, and only part of her was aware that her question was absurd and also horny.
Draco's gaze darkened even more. "Until you're ready."
The song ended, which hardly mattered because they'd stopped dancing what felt like ages ago. Draco let go of her, and then he stepped away and off the dance floor, disappearing into a cluster of guests, leaving Ginny confused, leaving her nerve endings buzzing.
"You look like you need a new partner," another voice said, and George took her hand and led her around the floor as another song began. "I wanted to cut in sooner, but Verity made me wait. Was I wrong to wait?"
Ginny laughed and peeked around George, searching for Verity. She quickly returned her attention back to her brother when she saw Verity talking to Draco. She looked away too quickly to notice their expressions or gauge their moods.
"No, you were not wrong," she replied.
"Are you okay?" His question was light, but he was staring at her hard, searching her face for a sign of injury.
"Just a bit unsettled." Her gaze narrowed at him. "Why didn't you tell me you invited Draco?"
"I didn't know you had final approval of our guest list."
"George."
He shrugged and spun them around in a tight circle, as if the motion would make her forget the conversation.
"George!"
"Maybe… perhaps… I didn't tell you for the same reason I didn't tell you about not inviting Harry."
Ginny would have stopped in her tracks if George hadn't urged her to keep moving. The shock of his revelation was so great, it was easier to continue dancing than to stop.
"Harry had to work," she heard herself say.
One of George's eyebrows arched. "Did he tell you that?"
She shook her head slowly. "No. I just—I guess I assumed—"
"Ginny." She blinked at the solemn way he said her name. "Harry has practically been a part of this family for a decade and a half. More than that, Fred and I owe our whole business to his generosity. But he's not a Weasley, and it was his choice not to join our family. You're my sister, and he hurt you. Did you really think I'd want you to be unhappy on the happiest day of my life?"
"Well," she replied, her throat tight as she suppressed more tears, "I didn't think you'd want that. It just hasn't felt like anyone has cared how I've felt."
He squeezed her in a tight hug, their feet still shuffling along the floor to keep up with the other dancers, and Ginny laughed at how ridiculous they must look.
"I'm sorry for making you feel like you don't matter. The wedding and the shop have taken all of my attention this year. I forgot to pay attention to you."
"I really don't blame you, George."
"You should. I've dropped a lot of balls, but from now on, I'm going to keep them all in the air!"
"That sounds very risky."
"You know what they say…." He lowered his voice as if imparting a secret. "No risk, no reward. Anything worth having is worth the risk."
Ginny thought about that and wondered what she had risked in her relationship with Harry. If she'd wanted to marry him so badly, why hadn't she had a conversation with him about it? If she'd felt like something was wrong, why hadn't she told him how she'd felt? It had been easier not to talk to him, not to start conflicts, not to rock the boat or ask for more than what they'd had. When they had fought, it had been easier to end the conflict quickly to keep the peace. Ginny had never felt like anyone would take her side or understand her feelings anyway, so she'd never confided in anyone when she'd been upset.
Ginny was beginning to realize that a part of her had always known she and Harry weren't meant for each other, but she'd buried that part of her so she wouldn't have to confront the truth. She'd suffocated her doubts to desperately continue fanning the flames of her childhood dreams. She'd clung to them because they were all she'd had, even when she'd given up on Harry and dated Michael and Dean back at Hogwarts. She'd never fully opened herself to her relationships with them because she'd always known she'd just needed to wait for Harry to be ready for her, to notice her.
She'd thought Harry was the greatest prize she could ever win. She'd convinced herself of it so completely, she hadn't been able to let the prize go.
Ginny deserved better, and so did Harry. He was the one who had freed them from their dead end relationship, and, finally, she was starting to feel grateful to him for cutting them loose.
The future was scary when you didn't know what to dream about anymore, but she would figure it out. She had to.
"Alright, Gin? You've got a weird look on your face."
"Just thinking," she said with a shake of her head. Then she kissed George on the cheek.
"What was that for?"
Giving me just the sign I needed, she thought, but what she said was, "For your wisdom, and for giving me another sister."
"Ron used to say one was too many. How's it feel to have four?"
Ginny laughed. "He never said that!"
"I swear he did! Ask him!"
They continued the silly conversation after their dance when they returned to Ginny's table, where Charlie and his Romanian boyfriend sat with Ron and Hermione. George's anecdote turned into a heated argument on Ron's side and a joke to everyone else. George and Charlie kindly filled in the context of the story for the benefit of Charlie's boyfriend, Cosmin, who had also grown up in a large family and followed the tale with amusement. It didn't take long for tears of laughter to stream down Ginny's face at Ron's expense.
Verity joined them, taking the seat next to Ginny, who wrapped her arms around her new sister in a tight hug. The last time she'd seen Verity, she'd been talking to Draco. She searched for him now, wondering if he went back to the bar or if Great Aunt Muriel had coerced him into a dance.
"If you're looking for Draco," Verity said with an astute stare, "he left to see how Pansy was doing while you were dancing with George."
"Oh." All of Ginny deflated knowing that he'd left without saying goodbye. His talk of wanting to be friends must have been a kindness to let her down easy, even though Ginny never would have expected such consideration from him.
She noted her own immediate reaction and took it for a sign, though she dared not interpret it while she was in the midst of receiving it in case her feelings influenced the message.
Verity patted her arm. "He said to tell you he'd see you soon."
"He will?" Ginny asked, all of her perking right back up. Even her heart raced in her chest, galloping and jumping like an animal released from a cage.
And that reaction was a sign, too.