Ginny could've died that moment, and she wouldn't have complained. Kissing Draco Malfoy was something she never would've imagined happening until she did; once she had, she couldn't get enough of it. It was as intoxicating as kissing Harry was, something she never got used to. She loved Harry like she hadn't loved anyone else, but now…

Her heart felt open. She had plenty of room, and, although unexpected, Draco had walked right in.

Breaking off the kiss, she turned around and kissed Harry instead. Around her, Draco and Harry held hands. When that kiss broke off, Draco and Harry kissed too.

She forgot herself, let herself sink in to the experience. Hard bodies against her. Hands in each other's hair. Kisses all over her body, their bodies. It was just as incredible at last night, just as wonderful and exciting.

She felt like she had been at the edge of precipice, and had just jumped off the edge. She felt the way she always felt when she was flying; powerful, fearless, weightless. She never wanted to feel any other way but this.

At the end, lying there, blissful, she breathed in their scent, held herself as close to Harry as possible. She waited for that blissful feeling to pass, but it never did.

Eventually, she fell asleep again.

She woke up again around noon. She panicked when she looked at the clock on the wall, before remembering that it was Sunday; there was no practice on Sundays. She was alone in the bed, and the bed was no longer warm. She got dressed and followed the smell of toast to the kitchen, where Harry was frying some eggs. Draco was nowhere to be seen.

"Good morning," she said to Harry, who, unfortunately, was also dressed. She walked over him and kissed him quickly.

"Good morning," Harry replied. "You just missed Draco. He got up and within two minutes flooed away. Didn't even eat any breakfast. Want some?" He gestured to the scrambled eggs. "I also put some bread in the toaster."

"Yes please." She took two plates out of one of the cabinets, set them on the counter, and grabbed strawberry jam from the pantry, too. Then, she took two forks and a spoon out of a drawer. "That smells delicious."

"Hope so," he said. He turned off the gas and put half the eggs onto one plate, half on the other. She scooped a generous amount of jam onto one of the plates and pushed it towards one of the seats. Methodically, she used the fork to cut a piece of the eggs, and dipped it in the strawberry jam.

"I'm never going to get used to being this decadent," she said between bites. Harry hummed in agreement. The toaster popped the bread, and he levitated one onto each plate. He grabbed butter from the fridge, and then sat down next to her and started eating.

They lived in a Muggle apartment, partially for anonymity's sake, partially because Harry had been building his relationship with his cousin and his wife and didn't want to scare them away from his home, partially because Harry had grown up in a Muggle house and found it more convenient. That meant they had a refrigerator, a gas stove, air-conditioning, and a television; this did not mean that it was a magic free household. Ginny was quick to learn, and did not mind living in a household like this. Ginny smiled at the thought of Draco learning to live in their two bedroom, mostly mundane apartment; it surely would be very different to Malfoy Manor.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing," she said. "Just… last night. I never would've thought…" She trailed off.

Harry smiled. "No, yeah, I get it," he said. "In school… in school this would've never happened. But I guess life is strange that way." He had finished his food; he always ate extremely quickly, as if he was afraid it would disappear any moment. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as he rose, and placed his dish in the sink. "I've got to go, Ron has some sort of wedding emergency."

"Oh? What kind of wedding emergency?"

"Nothing that involves you or Hermione," he assured her. "I'll see you later."

Harry flooed to the flat that Hermione and Ron shared. It was a homey sort of place, full of books (Hermione's, mostly) and Quidditch paraphernalia (Ron's, most likely) and assorted baked goods (Mrs. Weasley's, most definitely). Harry liked it here; it always felt like he was entering the brain of his best friends, in a good way. "Ron? Mate? You home?"

"I'm here!" came a muffled cry from… somewhere. He followed the voice.

"Where's that?"

"Bedroom!"

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed, coming to a stop next to the appropriate door. "Should I just wait out here, then?"

"Oi, mate, just come in here and help me, won't you?"

Stifling a laugh, he entered the bedroom. It was by far messier than he expected it to be, with clothing of various colors and shapes were strewn about on the floor and bed. And Ron was stood right in the middle of it, half dressed, with two pairs of dress robes – one a deep blue, the other a surprisingly loud shade of red – one on each arm. "Help me," Ron said helplessly.

"I'll admit, I'm a bit confused," Harry said, laughing a little. "What – "

"Get – Merlin's beard, I need to know what I'm wearing to my – " Ron was very visibly trying not to curse very loudly and very emphatically. "Listen, I called you here because the tailor can't be arsed to actually help me. So you have to, because Hermione thinks this is all done, and she'll kill me if it ain't."

"She probably will," Harry said, "but aren't you getting you dress robes in black?"

"I am!" Ron exclaimed. "But apparently there are cuts. I don't know what that means, because it all looks the same to me, but I was given these to try on and there's like seven million of them, Harry! Seven! Million!" Following the emphasis on the last word, Ron dropped both sets of robes he'd been holding and sat down on – almost falling onto – the bed, which, again, was also covered with robes. Harry counted nine sets of robes.

"Don't you have to return those?" Harry asked.

"What? Oh," Ron said. "Yeah, but they're – oh, I don't know, they have some spell on them or another, I'm rubbish with this stuff. Hermione's generally better, but – " Ron groaned. "I dunno, I just need these done, today. So?"

"So what?"

"Which one do you like?" Ron demanded.

"Erm," Harry said. "I haven't actually seen them yet."

"Right, right!" Ron said, jumping up, and running into the bathroom. Then he ran out, grabbed one of the robes, and ran back in. He closed the door and, presumably, began changing. "So how've you been?"

"Well," Harry said, sitting down on the bed and fidgeting with a sleeve from a lilac set of robes next to him. "I uh… I slept with Draco last night."

"YOU WHAT?" Ron screamed, opening the door. One of his hands was in the robes, the other wasn't. "WHAT ABOUT MY SISTER YOU – "

"She was there too!" Harry yelled defensively.

Ron froze, unable to process what just happened. "Oh. Okay." He closed the door and emerged quickly, dressed this time. "I'm going to need you to start from scratch. You slept with Malfoy… and Ginny was there?"

Harry nodded.

"Like, watching, or… Ugh, I can't even think about it." Ron shuddered. "You're my best mate, mate, but I don't know if I can handle this conversation."

"Sure," Harry said, "but I think Ginny's probably turning to Hermione, and I need to talk about it with someone, which I guess leaves Neville, but he's sort of out of the loop – "

"No, you know what?" Ron said, raising his hands. "Okay. Talk to me, but… stay…"

"PG?" Harry suggested.

"I dunno what that means, but if it means what I mean, then yeah, sure." Ron grimaced. "What do you think of this?"

"I… guess it's nice?" Harry said. "It makes you look taller, somehow."

Ron nodded, grabbed another robe, and turned away from Harry. "I think if we had this conversation with this door between us," he said, stepping into the bathroom, "it'll help me, just a tad. So," he said, closing the door, "go ahead."

"Well," Harry said. "Ginny and I were out, and we ran into Draco. And… I guess we invited him to sit with us, and we had such a good time, that when the pub closed, we invited him back to our place, and things sort of…"

"I get it, I get it!" Ron yelled, a little muffled from the other side of the door. "I'm coming out." He did, wearing the astonishingly red robes from earlier. "What d'ya think?"

"The red is awful," Harry said. "Do we have to do this?"

"Yes! If Hermione finds out from Ginny or Luna or anybody else this wasn't done last week like I swore it would be – I would be dead, I would. And the color doesn't matter, anyway. It itches," Ron said suddenly. "I'll try that one you're sitting on instead. Get up!"

Harry did, and when Ron went back into the bathroom, he continued. "Well, you know, it's not like this came out of nowhere," Harry said. "I suppose we've been building up to this for… years now. Since we bumped into him in Diagon Alley, remember that?"

"That was what, two, three years ago?"

"Must be, yeah," Harry mused. "And we kept running into each other, sometimes purposefully, sometimes not… He's… Oh, I – "

"I suppose he's handsome, inne?" Ron said. "And you were obsessed with him all sixth year."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Well," Harry said when Ron left the bathroom again. "I was right, wasn't I? I think that's a winner, right there."

"Really?" Ron said doubtfully.

"Yes," Harry replied forcefully, "and not just because I'm not sure I can stand another minute of this. Why didn't you do this with Hermione last week, like any normal fiancé would?"

"Is that what you're going to do with Ginny?" Ron retorted. "Or is it going to be Draco?"

"Hey!" Harry protested. "Low blow."

"Yeah, cause you." Ron muttered something under his breath that Harry did not quite catch, although its meaning was clear to him nonetheless. "Fine, fine, we're done."

"Thank Merlin," Harry said. "Talk later? I have some errands to run."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Ron waved him off. "See you later."

A/N: Chapter title from Carly Rae Jepsen's For Sure.