Author's Notes: Sorry this one took so long! I've had it done for weeks, but hadn't had time to post it, RL has been so hectic.

Chapter Four

Draco stared at the woman sitting in front of him. With wispy blond hair and a rather pinched look to her face, she was utterly unrecognizable. When she spoke, however, the bossy, insufferable note to her voice was plain as ever.

"What did you want me here for, Malfoy?" She glanced around the tea shop, a small, little-known café just off Diagon Alley, where she had agreed to meet him. "Only, I have other things to be about today, so get on with it."

Draco sneered. "You have other things to be about? Like what? Going to cook dinner for you and Blaise in the kitchens, are you?" He narrowed his eyes. "Speaking of cooking, where did you get the Polyjuice Potion from, anyway?"

Granger looked at him dispassionately. "I brewed it, of course."

"In my kitchen?"

"Yes."

Draco glared at her. "And if the Ministry had detected it?"

"They can't have," the blond Granger said, looking exasperated. "Honestly, don't you know anything? Even with the Ministry monitoring the place, they can only detect jinxes or curses or spells—you know, things that are the result of wandwork. They can't detect someone making potions. I would've thought you'd know that," she said nastily, "seeing as you used the very same logic to get your poison past Filch sixth year. You know," she said, placing special emphasis on this, "the poison that ended up nearly killing Ron."

Draco waved an indifferent hand. "It was an honest mistake."

Granger let out an incredulous laugh. "I can't believe I've agreed to do anything with you," she said, shaking her head. "After everything you've done—"

"I spent three years in prison, Granger," Draco said evenly. "I've paid my debt to society."

"Yes, so you've said." She eyed him over the rim of her tea cup. "But remind me again, why should I trust you, Malfoy? You've always hated Ron—"

"I hated Potter," Draco corrected her. "I couldn't care enough to hate the weasel king."

"Exactly." Folding her arms over the tabletop, she fixed him with a flat, direct look. "You've never cared anything about him. You certainly didn't care that your poison might've killed him then; you obviously don't care even now, in hindsight. I doubt you felt anything upon hearing that he was dead—you certainly didn't say anything to indicate you did," she added, reminding him that, in fact, shehad been the one to tell him that the man was dead. "So, why, then, are you trying to help me find him? What possible investment do you have in this?"

Draco eyed her stonily. "Never you mind."

"Never I—but I do mind, Malfoy! How do you—"

"I thought you were short on time," Draco interrupted. "Which is fine, because I am too. I just wanted to ask you what you knew about a break-in at Gringotts several years ago. It happened the year you were off harping around with Potter and his sidekick—you know, when the Dark Lord was in power at the Ministry."

Granger broke off and stared at him. "A break-in?" she said slowly.

"Yes," Draco said impatiently. "Someone tried to break in to my aunt Bella's vault. What do you know about it?"

"Well…nothing." Her brow furrowed, eyeing him in confusion. "I mean—someone really did break in, then? Because she thought we had—but that was only because we had the sword of Gryffindor, which she thought had been in her vault, only it hadn't been, that was a fake. We were never actually in her vault."

"But she was right crazed thinking you were, right?" Draco prompted.

"Well—yes." Granger shuddered, as though the memory of his aunt's displeasure was too awful to recall. Then again, knowing his aunt, it probably had been a very awful experience for Granger. One that involved lots of pain and torture. "She was utterly mad about it—but then, that's not exactly out of character for her, is it?" she added, her voice hardening.

"Well, no," Draco admitted. "But…" He trailed off, wondering how much he should tell her. Blaise wouldn't be pleased about it… "Look, the thing is," Draco said, before he could secondguess himself, "someone did actually try to break in to her vault, though apparently, they didn't succeed at getting anything. But even an attempted break-in was enough to drive my aunt off the wall, and it's not just her, either…"

Draco proceeded to tell her everything Blaise had told him, about the torture and murder of his entire family, all for information on this break-in that they were extremely unlikely to have. Granger listened with a look torn between horror and fascination.

"That's why they're after him, then," she muttered, when he'd finished telling her everything. "They think he might know something…but you're right, how they could think that, it seems ridiculous…"

"But that's how important this is, see?" Draco said. "Whatever it is they're so worried about…it's driven them past rationality. So it's got to be something important."

Granger stared at him for a moment, looking puzzled. "It doesn't make sense," she muttered. Then, all of a sudden, her eyes widened. "Unless—" She broke off, staring into space. "Of course…it must be…" She frowned. "But why there? That doesn't seem…but, maybe Harry could explain…"

"I don't suppose you'd like to explain what you're on about?" Draco said crossly. "Merlin, I don't know how Potter and Weasley could stand you. Bloody annoying."

Granger seemed to refocus, turning her eyes on him. They were shining with excitement. "Malfoy," she said eagerly, "you have to try and get in your aunt's vault!"

"Excuse me?"

"I think—I think—yes, it must be," she murmured. "And it's the only one left…"

"The last person who tried to get in there disappeared, as I've just told you," Draco said dryly. "And a whole bunch of people connected to him were killed. Why, exactly, should I want to get in there?"

"But she's in Azkaban now," Granger said impatiently, addressing him again, rather than the empty air. "Your aunt, I mean, so she can't stop you. And I'm not suggesting you break in. You're her nephew, you're family, you must be able to find some way to access her vault legally."

"Even if I could, what for?" Draco demanded.

"There's—I think, there must be—there's something in her vault that I need," Granger said. "It's a—a cup. A little porcelain one, with a badger on it. It belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, you know."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Is that what my aunt was so keen to protect? Is that what she thought might've been stolen?"

"Likely, yes."

"But what's so important about some bloody cup?" Draco shook his head. "Even if it did belong to Hufflepuff, so what? Makes it valuable, I suppose, but what would the Death Eaters want with it?"

"Not the Death Eaters, so much," Granger corrected him. "Voldemort."

Draco couldn't repress a shudder at the name. He cast an edgy glance around them, as if someone might have overhead them, but there was hardly anyone in the dinky little tea shop besides themselves. "That makes even less sense," he said, turning his attention back to Granger. "Why would even the Dark Lord—"

"Look, it doesn't matter." Granger flung up a hand to stop him. "Not to you, anyway. Just see if you can get it, all right?"

"Without you bloody explaining why? Not likely!"

"I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to," Granger said, frowning at him. "It's not my secret to tell. And at any rate, you are going to do it, because you owe me, Malfoy, or had you forgotten?"

"I'm already paying you back for that," Draco growled, "by helping you find Weasley."

"I'm not talking about helping you out when Ginny and your son went missing," she said, her expression going dark. "I'm talking about what happened sixth year. You owe me for that."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Ginny said much the same thing to me, once. Am I to be paying for that for the rest of my life?"

"Yes," Granger said simply. "And if you can't understand why, then that only proves you can't be done paying for it, yet."

"Really? And when will I be, then?"

"When you reach a point where you yourself don't feel like you could ever be done paying for it," Granger said quietly.

Draco flinched. A sliver of guilt threatened to worm its way through him, a bit of him that did, in fact, begin to understand what she said, what she meant. But he shoved that away, locking it back in its place where he couldn't feel it.

"I'm surprised though," Granger said slowly, after a moment's silence, "that Ginny would say anything of the sort to you. Only, I was under the impression that you two were rather chummy these days."

Draco eyed her flatly. "Were you?"

"Well, you are living together," Granger pointed out, watching Draco carefully. "And Zabini has…said some things…"

"What things?"

For a moment, Granger didn't answer. She only continued to look at him, eyes narrowed, as though he were some curious specimen. "I asked you before," she said abruptly, "why you should want to help me find Ron. What possible motivation you could have. And, well, it would make sense if…" She shook her head. "What am I saying, it makes no sense at all, it's absolutely ridiculous, but—"

"Is there a question somewhere in this, Granger?" Draco said acidly.

"Well—" Granger focused her gaze on him "—exactly how much do you care about Ginny, Draco?"

Draco inhaled sharply. He had not expected her to say that. "I don't see where that's any of your business," he snapped, before he could stop himself. He regretted that particular retort too late.

"Only, I've sort of nosed around a bit—"

"Of course you have—"

"—and really, no one seems to be very clear on what, exactly, is going on between you and Ginny," she finished.

"That's because it's none of their business, either."

"Ginny is my friend," Granger retorted, "so I'm making it my business, Malfoy. I mean it. Is there actually any sort of relationship between the two of you? I can hardly credit it, but then, a lot of things have changed. But if you're just using her to—"

"No," Malfoy said, cutting her off.

"No, what?"

"No, I'm not using her, and no, there's no relationship between the two of us," Draco said shortly. "Not anymore, anyway."

Granger cocked her head. "Not anymore?"

Draco wished he could've taken that statement back, too. What was wrong with him? He was spitting things out before he could consider what he was saying, and to Granger, of all people. Yet, ever since things had gone so wrong with Ginny, he'd felt fit to burst, this terrible hole tearing open inside of him, and no way to remedy it, to make it go away. And now, as he spoke, even if it was to Granger, that hole seemed to seal itself, to become a bit less. He couldn't seem to stop himself; it was instinctive, survival, anything to make the pain go away.

"She doesn't trust me," he found himself saying, his voice curt. "And I don't see how there can be anything between us if she doesn't trust me."

The look Granger sent him was almost suspicious, as if she weren't sure that he was being sincere. "Well…I can't say I blame her."

"That's because you don't know me, Granger," Draco shot back.

"And Ginny does?"

"I thought she did," Draco muttered. This was ridiculous. He had not become so messed up about this that he was talking to a Mudblood about it. He was on the verge of getting to his feet and leaving the shop when she said,

"Do you trust Ginny?"

"Of course I do," Draco said, startled into an instant response.

Granger raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes." On this, Draco was very sure; he had no hesitation about it.

"Only, you don't strike me as the sort of person to care much about trust one way or another," Granger pointed out. "You don't seem to care that anyone trusts you. Nor, I think, would you place your trust in anyone else."

"Well, on the whole, I don't," he admitted. "It's a stupid thing to do, go around life trusting everyone. But Ginny…I've trusted her for a long time. I've had to, haven't I? When Will was born, at the Ministry…well, I didn't want to trust her then, but I didn't have a choice. And after that, well—that's all trust is, isn't it? Placing your faith in someone, and when it proves the right choice, well, you can trust them. That's what I did, what I had to do, and, well, the result is—I trust her."

Granger looked surprised, likely at the thought-out response, for she likely believed him to be both stupid and uncaring. "But that means you trust her with your son," she said. "Not necessarily with…with you. With your…self." She shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable. Likely, she was as astonished at having this conversation with him as he was.

"Well…but I do trust her. With my…self," he said, slightly puzzled. "I mean, that didn't happen so fast, not then, that came later. I mean, after she moved in with me, well—she just proved to be…she stuck up for me, you know, to her family, and she—well." Draco coughed, unwilling to say anymore. He wasn't going to explain the mechanics of his feelings about Ginny to anyone, no matter what.

Granger eyed him with a most peculiar expression on her face, and it made Draco uncomfortable. He looked away from her as she said, "All right, then, but what have you done to make Ginny trust you?"

"What?"

"Well, you're saying she's done things for you. But what you done for her? And haven't you ever, maybe, given her any reason not to trust you?" she added pointedly.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. That last point had hit a little too close to home. "Maybe I have," he said shortly, "but that's in the past, and she knows it. I don't know what else I'm supposed to do about it."

"You mean to say, you've done something to make her lose her trust in you?"

"Yes, but she's forgiven me for it, she says so, so what—"

"What did you do?" Granger asked, an ominous note in her voice.

"None of your business!" Draco snarled. "Merlin, I don't know why I'm having this conversation with you anyway—"

"Well, nor do I," Granger admitted, "given that Ginny is likely better off without you—"

Draco scowled.

"—I'm just saying—" Granger shut her eyes and paused, taking a deep breath, as if to give herself patience. He thought he heard her mutter, "Men," before she paused again, opened her mouth, and went on, "Maybe she has forgiven you, but she's obviously not over it. Otherwise, she should be able to trust you again, assuming she ever trusted you before. I just think that—maybe—" She shrugged. "Maybe she's not as clear on what happened between you—what ever happened to make her not trust you—as you think."

Draco frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I assume you had a reason for doing whatever you did, no matter how stupid a reason—"

"Of course I had a reason."

"But does she know that?" Granger asked wisely.

Draco blinked. "Well—I mean—sure, she knows—I mean—"

"Maybe she doesn't understand as fully as you think she does." Granger lifted her tea cup and drank the last bit of it. "And that, Malfoy, is all the relationship advice I can stand to give you. So, mind you don't forget about getting that cup from your aunt's vault, all right?"

Ginny sat at the kitchen table in Grimmauld Place, staring at the wall of cabinets opposite her. She had one arm outstretched, her hand wrapped around a warm cup of tea, but she paid no attention to it. It was a cold night outside, though they were well into March, and the chill could be felt within the house as well. Ginny wore a sweatshirt zipped up over her usual ratty tee that she slept in.

She was not alone; Adrian Pucey sat at the far end of the long table, flipping through a book and drinking his own cup of tea. They sat in silence, neither speaking to the other. Ginny had always been…friendly…with Adrian, as he was Tracey's boyfriend, but they weren't friends.

She could not have felt more miserable, and had felt so since she'd attempted to patch things up with Malfoy yesterday. There was a part of her that felt justified in not trusting him; hadn't he lied to her once, about something huge? And hadn't he admitted that he was keeping things from her still?

Yet another part of her, one shoved deep down within her, whispered that this was just an excuse. Something to put between the two of them, a barrier that need not exist, except that she was terrified of leaping into something with him. Terrified of giving herself over to him, only to be hurt again.

Footsteps in the corridor outside made her lift her head and look to the door, and, a moment later, Draco appeared there, wearing his black work robes over slacks and a button-down. Ginny flinched as their eyes met for a moment, and she quickly looked away, going back to the practice of avoiding that they had used with each other since his "proposal."

A few seconds later, however, she became aware that Draco, upon seeing her, had not turned and left, but was still standing in the doorway. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him come inside the kitchen.

He didn't pause to look at her or talk to her, but went to the pot of hot water she had left on the stove and began to brew himself a cup of tea. He stood with his back to her as he did this, and Ginny took the moment to stare openly at him from behind. She looked away hastily when he turned around unexpectedly to pull his robes off and sling them over a chair at the table.

At this point, Adrian let out a small cough to clear his throat, and Ginny looked around in surprise. She had forgotten he was still in the room; neither he nor Draco had said anything to each other, not even a greeting. Adrian, now, was getting to his feet; tucking his book under his arm and taking his tea with him, he left the kitchen without a word.

Leaving Ginny and Draco alone together.

Ginny, not having a book or paper or anything with her to occupy herself, hastily took a gulp of her tea. She nearly choked on it and practically slammed her cup back on the table, given that it was still very hot and had burned her tongue. She shot a glance at Draco, but once again, he stood with his back to her, stirring some suger into his tea. Ginny lifted her tea again, blowing gently on the hot beverage this time. She watched Draco over the rim of her cup, as he turned slightly, so that she could see his profile. If he was looking at her even out of the corner of his eye, she could not tell. He merely loosened his tie and undid a couple of buttons at the neck of his shirt, looking tired.

And then, quite suddenly, he turned to face her head-on. "I don't think you understand," he said abruptly.

Ginny stared at him. Before she'd had a chance to avert her eyes and pretend he was not there, as per their usual practice for the past week, he'd caught her gaze, and he held it as though he were a basilisk that had paralyzed her. She couldn't seem to make herself look away now, though she desperately wanted to. "Understand what?"

"Why I lied to you." He folded his arms over his chest, frowning a little. "About my father, about knowing where he was. When they took Will."

Ginny continued to stare at him. She felt a bit dazed, and wondered, vaguely, if she'd fallen asleep at the table and was having an oddly realistic dream. "Well—he is your father," she said lamely.

"Yes," Draco said sharply. "But I don't think you understand what that means. To me," he added.

"Well…" Ginny blinked, perplexed. "It means he's your father. It's hard to just turn on your father."

Draco didn't answer right away. He half-turned to pick up his cup of tea, and took a careful sip from it. He lowered his hand then and said, "See, you say that, but I don't think you really get it. Because to you," he went on, forestalling her objections, "he's an evil man. A man that essentially tried to kill you, your first year at Hogwarts. A man who has always looked down on and hated your family. And a Death Eater," he added quietly. "A follower of the Dark Lord. One who's killed and tortured people, for—for glory, or power, or just to survive. And apparently done it without remorse," he added grimly.

Ginny nodded absently, finding nothing here to disagree with. Some of those things could be applied to Draco himself, as well, she thought, but many things had changed, and some things were just not the same. Draco had been forced to torture people, as a Death Eater, yet she knew he did feel remorse for it, knew he'd hated it. "But that's what he is to me," she said impatiently. "That's not what he is to you, and I know that."

"Do you?" Draco mused. Without seeming to know what he was doing, he wandered over to the table, tea cup in hand, and settled down onto the chair beside her. He leaned back in it, putting some distance between them. "Let me ask you something, Weasley. If your father died—well, you'd be upset obviously."

"Well—yes," Ginny said quietly, shuddering at the very thought of it.

"But, you'd still have your mum. And in fact, even if your mum died, you'd still have your brothers. And lots of friends." He traced the rim of his cup, staring down at it.

"I suppose so," Ginny said uneasily; she didn't like this talk of her parents dying, not at all. "But, I'd still be incredibly sad—"

"Yes, of course you'd be sad," Draco said impatiently. "But you wouldn't be—alone. You might feel that way sometimes, when you miss your mum's cooking or your dad's odd fascination with Muggles, but even at those times, you'd have people to turn to. A number of people, in fact," he added bitterly.

Ginny nodded slowly. "Well, yes. What does this—"

"I didn't have that," Draco said suddenly. "I don't have that."

Ginny looked at him in surprise. "But—I mean, Malfoy, your father isn't dead—"

"It felt that way," Draco said harshly. "Ginny, I've never—I didn't so much have friends, growing up. Crabbe and Goyle, yeah, I'd call them friends, but I didn't care about them—the way I care about my parents. It's not like I could talk to them about my problems, ask them for help or advice when something wasn't going right with me." He raked a hand through his hair. "I don't have much other family besides my parents, well, not anyone I'm close to. It was only ever them." He shut his eyes.

Ginny said nothing, watching him, transfixed. A small part of her heart was throbbing, but for once, it wasn't a pain that she felt for herself, but for him. It wasn't a hurt that drew her away from him, but made her want to be closer to him.

He sighed, opening his eyes. "And then my father went to prison," he said dully, "after fifth year. From then on, we never really—it wasn't the same. And then my mum…died." His voice broke a little as he said this, but he seemed to recover quickly. "Oh, she's not really dead, but she may as well be. And that was—for me, that was—"

"I know how that was," Ginny said quietly. "For you." When he only looked at her, puzzled, she cleared her throat and said, "I saw you. That night, at the hospital. You remember, you found me on the floor, the next morning? I'd—I'd gotten out of bed, that night, because I heard…well." She swallowed. "I heard the Healer tell you what had happened to her. I saw you…" She trailed off.

She thought he might be angry, and though a dark look passed through his eyes for a moment, he said nothing in rebuke, nothing to push her away.

She glanced away, a lump forming in her throat. She stared down at her tea cup, which had gone cold in her grip. "But your dad…"

"I never saw him after that." Ginny glanced up at him, and saw his eyes had gone hard. He looked at her grimly. "I knew he was at the Riddle House, but I never went to see him. And he never came to see me. Well…there was a part of me that didn't want to, after you told me he'd tried to take Will at the Ministry. Maybe he knew that, maybe that's why he stayed away. I don't know." Draco shrugged.

"It felt like I was alone, then. Well, it had felt that way since my mum was…since she'd gone," Draco said, his voice hollow. "But, Ginny, when he took Will—when he kidnapped him, attacked you…and remember, at the time, we'd thought he was the one who'd pushed you down the stairs, who'd beaten you…" He shook his head.

"Ginny, I—" He broke off, his voice hoarse. "That was when I knew. I hadn't been alone before, but at that point—he was gone, then. Gone from me, dead to me. I realized then he cared nothing about me, nothing about what mattered to me."

"But that wasn't really true," Ginny couldn't help but speak up. He looked so dejected, sitting there, a lost boy with no family, no parents. "I mean, he hadn't tried to hurt me, only to get Will, anyway, and even taking Will—he thought he was protecting him—"

"But I didn't know that, Gin." He looked at her, and he looked completely drained, his eyes almost bloodshot. "That night—that night when Will was taken—"

The lump in Ginny's throat was growing, becoming painful. It still hurt to think about that night, about what had passed between them, yet the hurt was different now; it wasn't hers alone.

"He was really gone," Draco said, his voice a near-whisper. "That was how it felt. And turning on him—not just telling you, it wasn't about you, but telling anyone where he was, speaking it aloud, making it a vocal betrayal—it was like that would make it real, make it permanent." He turned his gaze on her, and his eyes were desperate, pleading, as she herself had been when last they'd spoken, trying to get him to understand. "Don't you—I mean—he was dead, Ginny, the last person I had, it was like he was dead, and—and admitting it…" He broke off, shaking his head.

Ginny stared at him for a moment, before her gaze wandered past him, over his head. "So not telling me…" she said pensively. "It wasn't about me."

"Not like that," Draco said quickly, stealing a glance at her. "I don't mean I didn't care—"

"No, I know, I get it." She let out a slow breath. "I get it."

It was like a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders, lightening her soul. She felt free, free of the panic and guilt and uncertainty. "It wasn't that you didn't want to tell me—"

"Well—not entirely." Draco swallowed visibly, eyeing her nervously, as though afraid she would grow angry with him again. "I mean, I had known where he was all that time, before he took Will, and I'd always told you I didn't. At first, of course, it was because I didn't care about you, not then, and of course I wasn't going to tell you, I wasn't telling anyone. But later—" He cleared his throat. "You know, after you'd been living with me for a bit…I…"

"You what?" Ginny held her breath, waiting to hear this.

Draco stood suddenly, shoving his chair back. He turned aside slightly, so that he only his profile was visible to her. "I knew that telling you—I knew that would mean—I thought that…" Even from this angle, she could see the conflicted look on his face. "That I'd…lose you," he said thickly. "And I…I didn't want that." He turned back to her, looking uncertain. "From…very early on, you know. Because—having you there—in the manor, with me—having you with us—it was like—it made things—" He scrubbed a hand through his hair, looking frustrated.

Ginny reached out to him without thinking, her fingers closing around his wrist. Feeling his pain, his loneliness, it was as though that driven all the uncertainty and doubt out of herself, driven it away, so that it no longer hung there between them, separating them.

Draco looked at her, momentary surprise in his eyes. Hesitantly, as though expecting her to pull away from him, he reached down, and cupped a hand around her neck. She could feel her pulse beating against his palm, warm against her skin. Ginny took a shaky breath, gazing up at him, unmoving. She was afraid of doing something, something that might break this, end this—

But then he closed his hand around her wrist, just below her grip on his, and pulled her to her feet. She swayed for a moment, her free hand going to his chest, to steady herself. They stood mere inches apart, and it was like something electric connected them, a magnetic charge, pulling them closer together, drawing them in. Draco's eyes were dark, marked by something inexpressible, and that was all Ginny saw before she shut her eyes and pressed her lips to his.

There was nothing gentle about this kiss; it was all at once desperate and fierce, as though they needed to chase away the tension that had grown between them, leave that all behind as quickly as they could, fly back to the days when intimacy has been so much more natural to them. Whereas just a few days ago, Ginny had been so closed to Draco, she now felt herself opening up, pushing all of herself into this kiss, deepening it until everything around her ceased to exist, except for him, except for them.

His lips were like fire against hers, tumultuous, raging, all-consuming. His arms were around her now, one hand at the small of her back, one tangled in her hair, and even encircled within him, she could not seem to be close enough to him, could not take in enough of the warmth radiating off his skin, the scent of him lingering around her. Her hands wrapped behind his neck, she pressed herself even closer against him, molding her body to his.

Somehow, they stumbled around, in half a circle, and Draco seemed to fall into the chair at the table behind him, bringing Ginny down with him, onto his lap. A short breath escaped Ginny's lips as they separated for one, split second, and then he'd sealed his lips over hers again, pulling her down to him. One of her hands slipped down to his shoulder, to anchor herself. A warm, physical sensation grew in her stomach, sending a shiver throughout her body; she could feel her knees trembling beneath her. She could feel the heat of Draco's skin through his shirt, burning against her palm, and there was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to be completely enclosed, enveloped in that heat…

It was all too much. Something tightened within her chest, not painful, but forceful. It came crashing over her, past the thrilling physicality of the moment, her soul begging off, warning her not to go too far, too soon. She pulled back with a sharp breath, gulping in air. A part of her wanted so badly to throw herself into this, to feel again what she had once felt with him, but she knew she couldn't force it.

Draco looked startled when she pulled away, his eyes flying open, the grey irises clouded, dazed. For a moment, he looked almost confused, but then his gaze sharpened, focusing in on her face with intense clarity. "What's wrong?" he demanded, his voice deep, raw.

"Nothing," Ginny said, staring down at him. He reached up with one hand, then, and placed it over her cheek. His thumb rested just below her eyelid, and that's when she felt it, a wetness, brimming in her eyes. As he touched her, a bit of it, like a tear, slipped over, moistening his thumb. She blinked, and her vision blurred a bit, her eyelashes getting wet.

"What's wrong?" he repeated, his voice insistent.

A small breath escaped her lips; it might have been a laugh, had she had the strength for it, but as it was, only a small smile escaped her. "Nothing." And for once, she felt the truth of that within her; nothing, nothing was wrong, not now. Instead, everything was right.

She leaned down, flattening herself against him, her head resting just beneath the crook of his neck. He seemed to understand, and his arms slipped around her, holding her in place. Ginny shut her eyes, letting out a slow, even breath.

Everything was right.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed there, but she must have fallen asleep, crouched there on his lap, because the next thing she knew, she was lying on a soft, warm bed. She had vague flashes of being carried up the stairs, of coming into this room, but as she opened her eyes, she realized it was not her bedroom, nor was it Draco's. Draco, however, was there; he stood across the room, taking off his tie.

Ginny opened her mouth to speak and found the first word that passed her lips was, "Will." Draco turned at this, seeing she was awake. "Tracey was watching him, in my room, but—"

"She's still there," Draco assured her. "I just looked in, she's sleeping in there. That's why I brought you in here." He dipped his head, indicating the room they were in. "It's an empty bedroom, just down the hall from Will."

"Oh. Good." Ginny's head sank back down onto the pillows behind her. It wasn't all that late—it couldn't have been, she didn't think, unless they'd sat in the kitchen together for hours—yet she was incredibly drowsy; her eyelids drooped of their own accord. She forced herself to stay awake a few moments longer though. "And—are you going to stay here?" she asked, her voice muffled with sleep.

Draco crossed the room to her side. Holding onto the bedpost beside her head, he leaned over her, invading her space. It was a welcome intrusion; Ginny breathed in deeply, as though breathing him in. "Yes," he said. A second later, he'd pulled back. "I have to get my pajamas, though."

He stepped out into the hall with his wand and, presumably, Summoned them down to him, because he came back inside only seconds later, clutching his blue silk pajama pants and a plain gray shirt in his hands. Ginny tried to watch him as he changed out of his slacks and button-down, but she really couldn't keep her eyes open. She was already drifting into dreams when she felt him climb into the bed beside her.

When she woke again, it was morning, judging by the clock on the stand beside the bed. She opened her eyes blearily, and found herself staring at the wall opposite her. Malfoy was a warm, comforting presence against her back, his arm wrapped around her middle a welcome pressure. Slowly, not wanting him to pull away, she turned around onto her other side to face him. Rather than pulling away, his arm tightened around her waist as she shifted closer to him, resting her head against the soft material of his shirt.

"Good morning," Ginny whispered, for she was sure he was awake, if only a little.

"Morning," Draco returned, mumbling hazily.

For a moment, she simply lay there, nestled against him. Then, a thought struck her. "Draco," she said.

"Hmm?"

Ginny smiled into his chest, feeling mischievous. "Will you marry me?"

"Huh—what?" Draco started awake. He pulled back slightly from her so that he could look down at her. He blinked several times, bleary-eyed and groggy. "I—what?" he repeated, his words coming out in a sleepy sort of groan.

Ginny traced a circle on his chest, choking back laughter. "I mean, if you don't want to—"

"Wha—? No, of course I want to!"

Ginny couldn't help it now; a bubble of laughter escaped from her lips. Draco groaned again and shifted onto his back, uncurling from around her. Ginny lifted her head slightly so that he could rest his right arm beneath her neck. "Bloody witch," he groused, failing to stifle a yawn as he rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Springing this on me before I'm properly awake…" His eyes flew open with sudden clarity. "Do you mean it?" he demanded, looking down at her.

"Yes, I mean it," Ginny said, a little exasperated. "To be perfectly honest, if we even only remotely liked each other, it would be well worth it to get married, at this point. For that bloody house."

"That's what I've been saying," Draco grumbled.

"And, as I do like you, even if it is just remotely—"

"What do you mean, just remotely?" Draco said indignantly.

"—then yes, I think we should get married," Ginny finished, stifling another burst of laughter at the offended expression on his face.

"Well—good," he said. He had the most peculiar expression on his face, as though he were trying to keep from grinning like an idiot but couldn't quite manage it. "That's settled that, then."

"There's just one problem," Ginny said quite seriously.

"What?"

"Well, it's just…" Ginny hesitated. "Every time I imagine telling my family that I'm going to marry you, I feel like I'm going to vomit."

The grin vanished from Draco's face. "Kill joy," he accused.

"Sorry."

"That does put a damper on things, doesn't it," he agreed, looking a bit anxious.

"Well, yes, I thought so," Ginny said. "But—I have an idea. So that we can just bypass all that."

"Move to a foreign country?" Draco said hopefully.

"No." Ginny rolled her eyes. "That would sort of defeat the point, which is, after all, to get the townhouse. I think—" She paused "—we should elope."

"What, you mean…" Draco said slowly. "Like…just go down to the Ministry whenever and have someone marry us? Without any big ceremony or party or anything like that?"

"Yes, exactly. We'd still have to tell everyone, of course, but it would be done," Ginny pointed out. "That way we don't have to spend months on an engagement, with my dad trying to talk me out of it and Fred and George trying to kill you. And," she added, "we can do it soon, as soon as possible, so we can get the house as soon as possible. I mean, I don't fancy living here for another several months, do you?"

"No." Draco looked at her sharply. "But are you sure you're okay with that? Only, women can be sort of funny about weddings—"

"Do I strike you as the kind of woman to be funny about a wedding?" Ginny asked, an edge to her voice.

"Well, no," Draco said hastily. "I was just—making sure."

"I've already been through that twice with Bill and Fleur, and George and Diana." Ginny shifted, laying her head against Draco's shoulder. "And my mum was absolutely nuts, fussing about every little thing. Believe me, I'd love nothing more than to skip all that nonsense."

"All right, then." Draco smiled. "So you really want to do it soon, then, as soon as possible?"

"Definitely. How soon can we do it, do you think?"

"Well, I'll see about getting the marriage license." His brow was furrowed pensively. "And setting up an appointment. Probably usually takes a bit of time, but I know a few people—"

"Of course you do." Ginny rolled her eyes.

"—so I can probably swing it within the next couple of weeks." He glanced down at her with an air of mock annoyance. "Does that suit you, you bloody demanding witch?"

"Yes," Ginny said smugly. "It does."

"Good." Draco grinned unexpectedly at her, turning onto his side and looming over her. "I think we should make it official, then. You know, with a kiss."

Ginny laughed again, but did not object as he leaned down and closed his lips over hers.

The next week was both torturous and gleeful for Ginny. Being that they were both determined that none of her family or friends should find out beforehand, Draco and Ginny resolved not to say anything or act the least bit differently around each other. Sharing a secret like this between the two of them was oddly thrilling, but it was also very difficult, given that Tracey and Adrian were around them all the time at Grimmauld Place, and given that other members of the Order were constantly flitting in and out of the house.

"Am I missing a joke?" Lupin asked one morning. He'd stopped by and sat at the kitchen table with Draco, Ginny, and Adrian.

"What?" Ginny looked around at him quickly. "What do you mean, why?"

"Because," Lupin said mildly, "the two of you—" He gestured between Draco and Ginny, who were sitting at opposite ends of the table "—were grinning at each other like a pair of idiots."

"Nope, no joke," Draco said gruffly.

"Don't know what you mean," Ginny said, practically fleeing from the kitchen.

Another time, several Order members had stopped by for dinner, including Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dean Thomas, Bill and Fleur, and Tonks. Tracey and Adrian were there too, of course. Ginny had both Will and Victoire in seats beside her, and had been attempting to get them both to eat their dinner.

"Ginny," Draco said suddenly, leaning forward, "you've got a bit of mashed potato in your hair." He reached across the table, slipping his fingers down a strand of her hair to wipe it clean. For a moment, a second, they were both frozen there, looking at each other. Ginny almost couldn't suppress a smile.

Someone cleared their throat just then, and Ginny and Draco looked around. Nearly everyone at the dinner table was staring at them, the exception being Adrian, who was rather discreetly cutting into his piece of chicken. Tracey, on the other hand, looked openly suspicious; Dean looked gobsmacked. Tonks was grinning, Kingsley watched them, impassive, before turning back to his dinner, and after a moment, Fleur gave Bill, who nearly glaring at Draco, a great nudge, urging him back to his food. Feeling rather hot in the face, Ginny leaned back, and Draco slowly returned to his seat, avoiding everyone's gaze.

It was ridiculous, really, given that this marriage was intended to gain the townhouse, and that going to elope at the Ministry was about the least romantic way to do it. But Ginny couldn't help it; keeping this between them, a secret, as it was, was a heady feeling, and Ginny had to admit that she was looking forward, just a bit, to seeing the shock on everyone's faces when they found out. In fact, thinking about it one afternoon, after putting Will down for a nap, made Ginny positively want to burst with suppressed glee. She quickly fled the room to avoid waking Will, and, as soon as she was in the hallway outside, couldn't help giggling to herself.

"All right, spill it. What is going on with you and Draco?"

Ginny choked on another rush of laughter and looked around in surprise. Tracey stood just down the hall, arms crossed, eyeing Ginny flatly.

"Wh-what?" With some difficulty, Ginny got herself under control; she took a deep, slow breath to ensure she wasn't going to burst out laughing again. "What do you mean?" she asked, striving for a tone that was both innocent and slightly confused.

"Oh, please." Tracey rolled her eyes and came forward. She jabbed a finger at Ginny. "You know exactly what I mean. Only last week the two of you were both moping around here, running out of the room every time you came across each other—"

"I was not moping," Ginny protested.

"—and now, you both can't stop for giggling every time you pass each other in the hall—"

"And I don't giggle," Ginny said indignantly.

"Oh, you do," Tracey assured her. "And so does Draco. You both look as if Christmas has come early every time you look at each other, and though you're obviously trying to avoid looking at each other, you do a very bad job of it."

Ginny huffed. "Well, we both live here, we can't really avoid each other—"

"You did a good enough job of it last week," Tracey said dryly. "Spill it, Gin. The last time I spoke to you about Malfoy, you were all depressed and panicky. Now you look absolutely joyful at the mere mention of his name. What happened?" Dropping her accusatory stance, she wheedled, "Oh, please, Ginny, please tell me what's going on with you two?"

"Pansy's right," Ginny laughed. "You are downright nosy!"

"Well?" Tracey demanded, her eyes bright with curiosity.

Ginny glanced around furtively as though checking for eavesdroppers, though the only other people in the house right now were Draco and Adrian, and if she were to tell Tracey, she knew Adrian would hear about it as well. "Okay, but you can't tell anyone," Ginny warned her. "I swear, Trace, if any of my family hear about this—!"

"I learn people's secrets, I don't tell them," Tracey said impatiently.

"Okay, well—" Ginny couldn't help it; knowing she could trust Tracey, she was now bursting to tell someone this "—I talked to Malfoy, like you said I should—"

"Thank you," Tracey said, applauding herself.

"—only, at first, you know, it didn't go so well, we didn't really get anywhere with it. I was feeling worse than ever about the whole thing, but then, the next night, when Draco got home, we—talked some more—"

"That night I fell asleep watching Will and you never came up?" Tracey interrupted. "I knew it, I knew you were with him that night!"

"—and, yes, well, we, er, made up," Ginny said, blushing a bit.

"That's it?" Tracey stared at her, crestfallen.

"Well, you don't really want details, do you?"

"Come to think of it, concerning Malfoy, no I don't." Tracey wrinkled her nose. "But that can't be all, why're you two acting so secretive about it?"

"Because-we've-decided-to-elope," Ginny said in a rush.

"What? Elope!" Tracey practically shrieked. "What do you mean, elope? Oh my god, you're going to get married? But just last week you were practically hyperventilating at the thought of marrying him—"

"I know, well, like I said, we talked it out—"

"—and now you're just going to—oh my god." Tracey's eyes widened. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you? Your family! Imagine when they find out—!"

"I know," Ginny said glumly. "My dad—"

"Fred and George!" Tracey practically cackled with glee. "Oh, I'd pay anything to see them find out about this."

"Don't you dare tell them," Ginny warned.

"Oh, of course I won't." Tracey waved a dismissive hand. "So you're going, what, to the Ministry to have it done? Just the two of you? Oh, please, please let me come, Ginny, please!"

"You want to come with us?" Ginny stared.

"Yes, don't you need witnesses, anyway?"

"Well, I think there are usually people at the Ministry—"

"Oh, please, come on, let me come! I can be your maid of honor," Tracey said, fluttering her eyelashes sarcastically.

"Well—all right." Ginny laughed. "Bring Pucey then, he can be Draco's best man. We'll have a right little wedding party."

"Oh, I can hardly wait!" Tracey said.

"Well, you haven't long," Ginny informed her, "because we're going on Tuesday."

Draco was less than enthusiastic about bringing Tracey and Adrian along for the elopement, but Ginny suspected that, like herself, he was too pleased about the whole thing to really let it upset him, as he only made a half-hearted protest and a feeble attempt at a scowl. Tracey, on the other hand, was positively furious that night at dinner, when, with much dramatization, she broke the news to Adrian, only to find that he was less than surprised.

"Well, I sort of knew about it," Adrian said.

"Knew, what do you mean, you knew?" Tracey demanded.

"Well, not about them getting married," he said, "but I figured they'd made things up. What do you think I left them the two of them alone for in the kitchen that night, anyway?"

"Who would've thought?" Ginny laughed. "Adrian, the matchmaker!"

"Cheers, Pucey," Draco said with a smirk-like grin.

"Yes, well, I was tired of the two of you walking around here like someone killed your puppy," he muttered.

Come Tuesday, the four of them ate a leisurely breakfast, Draco and Tracey having taken personal days from work. Draco had taken Will over to Pansy's for the day, and informed them, when he returned, that he had gone ahead and told her what they were doing.

"Oh." Tracey looked disappointed. "I was so looking forward to gloating at her about it, that I knew and she didn't."

"Well, I didn't tell her you were coming," Draco grumbled, "so you can gloat about that."

Their appointment was scheduled for eleven o'clock that morning, so at half-past ten, they went from Grimmauld Place to the Ministry by Floo, arriving through one of the many fireplaces in the Atrium.

"I'm a little nervous about this," Ginny said, as the four of them started across the Atrium.

"Getting cold feet?" Tracey smirked. Draco shot her an alarmed look.

"No," Ginny said. "I didn't mean that. I meant—what if we run into someone we know? Only, we do know a lot of people that work here, including—" She felt as though her stomach had dropped out beneath her "—my dad."

"Just move quickly," Draco advised. "Anyway, after you and Adrian stop by the security desk, we just need to take the lift to Level Two—"

"Which will be one of the last stops the lift makes," Tracey muttered.

"And it's not like we don't know plenty of people on Level Two," Ginny grumbled.

They crossed the Atrium at a brisk walk; Ginny did her best not to look around or make eye contact with anyone. She was more relieved than ever that she'd rebuffed Tracey's attempts to convince her to wear dress robes; she had instead decided on a pretty but staid pencil skirt made of champagne-colored lace, and a camisole beneath a delicate, short-sleeved jacket. Draco was dressed the same way he always was, in black slacks and a particularly blue button-down, though he had opted for his best silk tie.

They were just crossing the fountain in the center of the Atrium when, all of a sudden, someone called, "Ginny!"

Ginny's first instinct was to speed up and keep walking, but whoever had called out her name had been quite clear, and Tracey had already looked around, likely without thinking about it. Draco and Adrian exchanged identical grimaces, but there was nothing for it. With some trepidation, Ginny stopped and looked around to see who had hailed her.

To her dismay, Ernie Macmillan was striding across the gilded floor towards them, smiling broadly. Ginny watched him draw closer with a forced smile plastered on her face. "Hullo, Ernie, how are you?" she asked, as he stopped in front of them.

"Very well, thank you, very well," he said pompously, beaming at her. He looked over at Draco, and his smile wavered a little. Nevertheless, he held out a hand to Draco and said, quite genially, "Malfoy, hullo."

Draco shook his hand without saying a word. Ginny wondered whether he actually knew Ernie's name.

"Tracey Davis," Ernie boomed, turning on her next. Ginny thought Tracey looked as though she found this whole situation entirely too funny; she looked rather amused as she, too, shook Ernie's proferred hand. "I haven't seen much of you for years, but you work here, don't you?"

Tracey replied to him in kind and introduced Adrian, of whom Ernie had heard of but never actually met. The entire time they were exchanging pleasantries, Ginny waited with bated breath, looking for a moment they could make some excuse and slip away, and hoping desperately that he would not ask the one question she didn't know how to answer—

"But what're you all doing here?" Ernie asked, looking among them, and settling his gaze on Ginny. "Bit early for lunch, isn't it?"

"Erm—" Ginny's mouth had gone very dry. "Well—"

"Ginny and I are here to see a Ministry official about some of my property," Draco said smoothly. "You know most everything was confiscated by the Ministry two years ago—"

"Yes, yes, I'd heard about that," Ernie said, as though the Daily Prophet had not been plastered with articles about it at the time. He actually looked sincerely concerned, and for Malfoy, whom he had no liking for. Perhaps the concern was really for Ginny, but she rather thought it was more because Draco was now mostly considered to be an upstanding member of society.

"Well, we're looking into a townhouse that should be in my name," Draco explained, "which we previously have not been able to get a hold of." His face took on a sort of pained expression, which, Ginny thought, was a trifle overdone. "You know, we really need someplace safe and defensible to live, and that townhouse—"

"I quite understand." Ernie nodded seriously. His eyes, however, strayed over Tracey and Adrian in some confusion.

"Well—" Tracey coughed; she had a sort of abashed expression on her face, which, Ginny thought, looked particularly out of place on her. Tracey was never embarrassed or ashamed of anything. "It's just, you know, the official that Draco and Ginny need to, er, talk to, well, he's an old family friend, and we thought, having me along—"

"Of course, of course," Ernie said, smiling between the four of them as if they all shared some secret with him now. "Well, you don't want to be late for your appintment then; it sounds as if you need to make a good first impression! I'll let you on your way, then."

Deeply relieved, Ginny bid goodbye to Ernie along with the others. Ginny and Adrian stopped at the security desk to have their wands registered, as neither of them worked at the Ministry; they left from there, without incident, and proceeded to the lift, which they rode up to Level Two.

Ginny gulped as they stepped out of the lift, eyeing the wooden doors straight ahead, which led to Auror Headquarters. Draco, however, bypassed these doors and turned right, leading them to the Wizengamot Administration Services.

The chamber they entered contained a reception desk with a waiting area, and a number of smaller offices in the corridor beyond. The four of them stood in the line at the reception desk to sign in for their appointment. After the incident with Ernie, Ginny still found herself casting around anxiously for anyone she might know, but Draco didn't seem worried at all. On the contrary, he looked absolutely gleeful.

"What're you grinning about?" Tracey asked suspiciously.

"This is going to be so good!" Draco gloated. "I can't wait to see the looks on the evil duo's faces—"

"He means Fred and George," Ginny said dryly.

"—when they hear we've gotten married!" Draco chortled. "It'll be better than that time in second year when my father bought us all Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones, remember, Pucey?" He sighed. "I only wish Potter was here, too, that would make this even better."

"You're laughing now," Ginny said glumly. "You won't be laughing when my dad finds out." She felt nauseated at the very thought.

"I'm not afraid of your dad," Draco scoffed, but Ginny thought he looked a bit green, too.

"Then why do you look like you're going to puke?" Tracey said sweetly.

After signing in at the front desk, Tracey and Ginny went to sit down together to wait, while Adrian remained with Draco at the desk, awaiting the clerk to ascertain that everything was in order with their marriage license. As soon as they'd taken seats, Tracey turned on Ginny with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "Are you sure you're okay going through with this, Ginny?"

"Of course I am," Ginny said, surprised. "Look, you saw what a mess I was before about it, but like I said, Draco and I talked it out. I mean, it was…more complicated than that, but suffice it to say, any issues I had about marrying him are done with."

Tracey cast her a speculative look. "Well, all right." She hesitated.

"What?" Ginny demanded.

"It's just—I know you need this townhouse and all that. And don't take this the wrong way, please," she added hastily. "It's just, well…I never really thought you to be the sort of person who's okay with—well, marrying someone you don't love."

Ginny stared at her blankly and said nothing, though her stomach felt as though it had flip-flopped.

"Or—you don't—" Tracey's eyes widened. "Don't tell me you actually love—"

"Well, that's all in order." Tracey shut her mouth and looked around as Draco and Adrian joined them, settling into seats beside them. Draco checked his watch and said, "Assuming everything's on time, we've just got a few minutes to wait."

Apparently, everything was on time, for a few minutes later, an elderly Ministry official with thick glasses emerged from one of the small offices and said, "Malfoy and Weasley?"

The four of them leapt to their feet and followed the official into his office. Tracey was looking mischievously delighted once again, though she did shoot Ginny a furtive look as they stepped inside. Adrian and Draco were, per usual, less demonstrative in their excitement, if they were excited at all, though Ginny thought Draco had an expectant air about him, at least.

The Ministry official tottered around behind his desk, accepting the marriage certificate from them, which they had previously filled out with all their information. He peered at Tracey and Adrian, who stood to the side of Draco and Ginny, respectively. "These are witnesses?" he asked.

"Yes," Draco and Ginny replied in unison. They exchanged equally impish smirks.

"Wands, please?"

Draco and Ginny both handed theirs over, and the official placed them on an instrument similar to the one used at the security desk in the atrium. This instrument issued two slips of paper for each wand, which the wizard compared to the information they'd filed in the marriage certificate. "Very well." He returned their wands to each of them. "I will proceed with the marriage then." He cleared his voice and said in a rather monotone voice, "We are here today to partake in a marital union between Draco Lucius Malfoy and Ginevra Molly Weasley…" This speech was rather less flowery and more to the point than the sort of opening words usually used at formal wedding celebrations. It was also much briefer, which Ginny appreciated.

Once the official had concluded the opening words, he instructed Draco and Ginny to join hands for the marital vows. "Repeat after me," he instructed them. "I, Draco Malfoy…"

Draco looked rather smug as he repeated, "I, Draco Malfoy…"

Draco continued to repeat his vows after the official, though Ginny thought she heard him stress the word "richer" when he got to that part; Ginny rolled her eyes at him. He looked so pleased with himself throughout the whole thing that Ginny was tempted to thwap him over the head for it. Being in the middle of the ceremony, of course, she did nothing of the sort, but instead proceeded to repeat the same vows.

"…for as long as we both shall live," she finally concluded. Past her issues with marrying Draco or not, she nearly choked a bit on those last words. The prospect of being married to Draco for the rest of her life was not really something she had thought all that much about.

"Do you have rings?" the official asked then.

Ginny opened her mouth to say no, for in fact, she had not even thought about getting rings, but Draco said, "Yes," before she'd spoken, and, to Ginny's astonishment, he turned to Adrian, who placed two rings in his hand.

"When did you get rings?" Ginny hissed.

"Never you mind, just take this one," he said, promptly dropping a wide, golden band into her palm, obviously sized for a man's finger.

"Please exchange rings," the official said. Ginny thought he sounded a bit bored with the whole thing. She held out her hand to Malfoy, who slipped a similar, though of course smaller, golden band onto her finger. It looked exactly the same as Malfoy's, if not as wide—except for the fact that it was inlaid with three small diamonds around the front. Ginny's eyes widened at the diamonds, which only made Draco look even more smug, if that was even possible. Suppressing the ridiculous urge to squeal over the diamonss, Ginny instead slipped Draco's ring onto his finger.

Once this was done, the Ministry official slid the marriage certificate towards them on the desk. "If you could each sign here, and here," he indicated, handing Ginny a quill. He nodded to Tracey and Adrian. "You two will need to sign as well."

Once everyone had signed, including the Ministry official, he concluded by saying, "By the power vested in me by the Ministry of Magic, according to its laws and regulations, I declare you bonded for life." He took up his own wand then, waved it quickly over Draco and Ginny, stamped their certificate, handed it to Draco, and said, "You are now married. Have a nice day."

Chapter End Notes: I wouldn't exactly say I was inspired by Meredith and Derek's recent marriage on Grey's Anatomyfor this scene; certainly the idea came from myself, and not the show. But, not knowing at all what a marriage at a courthouse would look like, I did re-watch that scene. I may have taken a few of the official's line directly from the show - I tried not to do word-for-word, but it may have followed a bit closely. Just wanted to give credit where credit is due!