Chapter Six

Present Day

There was a moment's silence as she stopped, during which Ginny assessed the situation. Charlie had slipped off of his mug and was now lying facedown on the table, and at some point, they'd lost Percy. Bill, George, and Ron were still present and (from the looks of it) mostly attentive, though she couldn't tell if the redness of his face was due to anger or alcohol or some terrifying combination of the two. With her luck, it would be the latter.

"I remember that bruise on your wrist," he said abruptly. "I said it looked like fingers. Didn't I say it looked like fingers, George?"

Ginny sighed in exasperation. She might have known that out of all the details in that story, he would focus on that one. "He'd just woken up to someone touching a spot on his arm that he was pretty keen to keep hidden and untouched. As soon as he realized it was me, he loosened his hold—and aren't you focusing on the wrong thing, Ronald?"

"You're right," he agreed unexpectedly. "I always knew he was an abusive git, so maybe I should focus on the fact that my sister is not only dating that git but is also making excuses for his abusive behavior."

"He tried to cut the mark out of his own arm," she said, perhaps a little shrilly. "Does that mean nothing to you?"

"It means he tried to hide the evidence that he was a Death Eater," Ron snapped. "I wouldn't be surprised if others did the same—apparently, it's a great way to earn the trust of gullible bleeding hearts."

"It nearly killed him, Ron!"

"It would have been better for all of us if it had," he growled.

Ginny saw red. Reaching for her wand would have taken precious seconds, seconds that she could be using to bludgeon her brother's face in, so she forewent magic and lunched across the table to beat that sullenness out of her brother's stupid head—

—and was caught halfway across by Bill, who got her around the waist and gently but very firmly forced his sister back down into her seat. "Now, now," he said, sounding a little strained, "there's no need for any of that."

"Oh, I'd say there's a very real need for it," she snarled, trying to pry his hands away and giving Ron a death glare that promised copious amounts of pain in his near future.

"Come on, Gin," George said consolingly, "we've all been drinking, and Ron's prone to saying thoughtless things even when he's sober."

"Shove off," Ron growled, returning Ginny's glare with equal intensity. He and his sister hadn't come to actual blows for many years, but she had no doubt that if not for the brothers playing referee, they would have little trouble tearing up the entire pub just then.

"Just settle down," said Bill gently.

Ginny was breathing heavily, and in a Herculean effort to regain control of herself, she looked around and snapped, "Where's Percy?"

George snickered. "If you're planning on making him your punching bag instead, you're out of luck. He turned green about halfway through your story and staggered off to the loo, so he's probably puking his guts out. He and alcohol clearly aren't the best of friends."

Ginny was in no mood to laugh. She straightened her clothes and nodded sullenly at Bill instead. "You can let go of me now."

"Are you sure?" he asked lightly. She glared at him, and he shrugged. "All right, but if you have another go at him, I'll consider it permission to freeze you."

"Oh, yeah? And what if he has another go at me?"

"Silencing charm," George said gamely. "In fact, I'd be happy to do one of those now if you'd like."

Ginny nodded savagely as Ron began to spit protests, but Bill raised a placating hand. "Let's give him one more chance, yeah?"

"Fine," she said reluctantly, "but one more ill-advised comment—"

"Fair enough," Bill said. "Right, Ron?"

Ron folded his arms angrily, but they'd come this far, and he was clearly morbidly curious about the conclusion of Ginny's story, so he gave a reluctant nod. Bill didn't wait for him to open his mouth and screw everything up again.

"Now," Bill said easily, "I believe you said there were two incidents that made you trust him. The revelation of the scar was the first. What was the second?"

Ginny glared at Ron. This last part of the story was infinitely the most personal, and she wasn't keen on giving Ron any more ammunition to twist and turn against Draco—but it was also the most important, the most likely to convince her brothers that Draco's intentions were not evil. After a moment, she took a trembling sip of butterbeer and then began to tell them the end of her tale.

Three Months Ago

Ginny's hands were shaking.

She was sitting quietly in her flat, eyes fixed on the clock, and her hands were shaking.

The incident with the scar had gone a long way in convincing her that Draco was honest in his pursuit of her, but she still had lingering doubts, built-up suspicions left over from years of enmity, and they were harder to dispel than she would have liked. It was too easy to come up with more suspicions, reasons why he would have shown her the scar and told her what he did, vaguely-shaped plots that he might be involved in, and this last month had only made the schism in her thinking more obvious.

On the one hand, she was growing very aware that her partiality to Draco was increasing to dangerous levels. He was clever, funny, charming, and the way he kissed her… her stomach leaped whenever she thought about it, and that excitement didn't seem to be fading no matter how often she saw him. She didn't want to entertain the notion for long, but she was aware that on some level, she was in very real danger of falling for him.

However. That annoying, nagging little however that still had her keeping him at emotional arm's length, preventing them from setting their heels in and making a solid decision about them one way or another, the equivalent of Draco's tendency to turn potentially serious topics into jokes. She still couldn't quite get her head around the idea that Draco, in his right mind and without any ulterior motives, would want to date her. It wasn't a self-esteem issue, as he'd jokingly suggested that first day. It was the past, shoving its way between them like a nosy, unwanted great aunt. There were so many years of hurt, prejudice, and resentment dividing them that she had serious trouble believing he'd genuinely see her as an appealing partner even now, let alone in his sixth year.

It would take a genuine miracle to have changed his ideology that much, and while it was true that his altered personality, his newfound tolerance for Muggles, half-bloods, and Muggle-borns, and the scars all indicated that it was possible that such a miracle could have taken place. Still, it would have to be drastic indeed, and Ginny had to admit that the likelihood was less than that of Draco's plotting something evil.

Therefore, after some time she allotted herself to think about it and considerable planning, she had come up with today's scheme, the one that she felt would either lay those fears in their graves or validate them completely. It had taken her some time to convince herself that she could lay aside her fears about ethics, because if her fears were true and if he had plans against her, then she was allowed to defend herself by any means.

This was just a pre-emptive defense.

Right.

There was a knock on the door, startling her from her internal wrestlings, and she started, then scolded herself for how neurotic she'd behaved over the last few months. It'll all be over soon, she told herself, and called out, "Come in!"

"I'm disappointed in you," Draco drawled as he entered her flat. "What if I'd been a vampire?"

She raised an eyebrow and lifted her wand. "Wooden. Magical. I'm not averse to staking a vampire with magic if it was trying to kill me, you know."

He snorted, closing the door behind him and crossing the room towards her. "Frankly, I'd be surprised if you were averse to doing anything in defense of your own life."

"No, wait—that's wrong. You're the Slytherin, remember?" she teased as he reached her, and instead of standing, she put her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his stomach, and he draped an arm over her shoulders and bent to kiss her head. Maybe we can just stay locked like this. Then there'd be no need for me to do what I have to do.

He snorted as he straightened up again. "Please. We're debating ferocity, not survival instinct."

"I'm trying to figure out if that was a compliment or not."

"So needy."

"Be nice to me. My teeth are right next to your navel."

"I must say, that is a curious threat," he told her, and got a finger beneath her chin, gently lifting her face and then leaning down to engage her lips in a belated hello kiss.

Their positioning wasn't exactly ideal for the depths of passion, and so Ginny started to rise to get a more advantageous reach, but before she could get up all the way Draco broke the kiss and took a swift step backward, slipping his hand out from under her chin to wag a stern finger. "Ah, ah, no—we've got to get moving. We've just enough time for tea if we want to get to the theater on time."

"What if we skipped the tea?" Ginny asked, silencing the mental howl of disapproval rising from her rational brain. At least this way he's got a fair chance.

Draco appeared to be deliberating, but after a second or two, shook his head. "Absolutely not, because then I'll have a hungry Ginny whining at me halfway through and that's no fun for anyone."

Ginny huffed and sat back down on the couch, arms folded and ignoring that jab about her being a terror when she was hungry (because it was totally and completely true). "You are such a bore."

He looked at her with mock indignation. "Excuse me, but I'll have you know that I was not the one who insisted on going to see a Muggle play. I was thoroughly comfortable with the idea of staying in or going somewhere where we didn't need to be on time, but noooooo, Ginny's got to traipse all the way to Muggle London to see Romeo and Juliet—"

She smirked suddenly at the reminder. "You'll understand why about two minutes in," she promised him. "It's hilarious."

"I usually find Muggle shows hilarious, but not for the same reasons as you, I imagine."

"You're such a brat," she grumbled. "Look, see, you've thoroughly killed the mood."

"And though I have no doubt that I could resurrect it if I chose, I'm not going to. You were the one determined to see this show, and we're going to see it. No dallying about for you."

"And for being a brat, you're kind of a disciplinarian," she muttered, rising from the couch and stalking past him into the kitchen, yelping when he swatted her bum as she passed. "Oh, no you don't! If you're going to be General Bossypants then you do not get to touch my bum!"

He followed her into the kitchen, and she chose to ignore the face he was making (and the fact that he was mouthing "General Bossypants" with apparent distaste). "Fish and chips are in the oven keeping warm—if you'll get them out and take them to the table I'll be just behind you with the tea," she directed him. As he moved obligingly, she took the teapot from where she'd left it cooling from boiling hot to just right and poured two cups for them. She prepared hers the way she liked it, with milk and sugar and stirred the scant half-teaspoon of sugar Draco preferred into his before letting out a nearly-silent, trembling sigh and glancing over her shoulder. He had just gotten the tray together and was leaving the kitchen to do as she'd asked, and she single-mindedly tamped her guilt down and reached swiftly into the cabinet just by her head, removing the small vial of veritaserum from the batch she had been brewing carefully over the last month.

Moving quickly, she put a healthy dose into his tea and replaced the vial, not bothering to stir the drops in, as the tea was still spinning lazily from her stirring the sugar. Ignoring the qualms she felt, she picked up the saucers and took the tea into the dining room where he awaited her.

Fortunately for her growing neuroticism, she didn't have much time to fill with slightly nervous chatter. Within moments, he'd consumed a satisfactory amount of tea and his jaw slackened and his eyes glazed over. Ginny took a deep breath, set down her own drink, and leaned forward to finally ask him her questions.

"Is your name Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes."

"Are you under the Imperius Curse?"

"No."

"Do you have any intentions of harming me or anyone I know in any way?"

"No."

"Do your friends, family, or anyone you know have any intentions of harming me or anyone I know in any way?"

"No."

She let out a deep, relieved breath and slowly sat back. That was it, then. There were ways to avoid answering truthfully while in the thrall of veritaserum, but Occlumency was incredibly obvious and prepping with an antidote was only slightly less so—a genuine veritaserum thrall was pretty easy to spot.

Technically, she could stop right now, but Ginny was very human, and she was suddenly very aware that for the next minute or two, her would-be boyfriend could not lie to her. There was a part of her, a very respectably-sized part, for that matter, that understood fully that any question she asked from this point on would be taking a completely unfair advantage of him—it would be somewhat equivalent to snooping in his desk while he slept, but perhaps worse. However, Ginny was a youngest child, and she was perhaps a little too used to getting what she wanted eventually. She maintained her stranglehold on her guilt, then, and leaned forward once more.

"Why did you want to go out with me?"

"Because after I noticed you in fifth year I started to think you were beautiful."

"At what point in your fifth year?"

"When you sent a bat-bogey hex after me," he answered mechanically.

Ginny covered her mouth to cut off a forming giggle. "Oh, yeah," she murmured, and picked up again. "All right, fine, you crushed on me in school, but it's been five years. Why now?"

"Because you're still beautiful. Because you laugh a lot. Because I knew there were people around you who have done terrible things and you still love them—and because you have a fantastic ass."

Ginny nearly gave a George-worthy cackle at that one, but time was running out, and so instead she asked, "What are your intentions?"

"I plan to stick around for as long as you'll let me, under whatever conditions you have."

"And, just for the hell of it, how do you feel about Harry Potter these days?"

"Can't stand the git," he said, sounding a lot more like the usual Draco at his most abrupt.

She knew she was done then, and leaned back slowly as he blinked away the delirium and fixed his eyes on her. After a moment, he glanced down at his cup, and a sort of resigned understanding dawned on his face. He looked up at her and asked, "Veritaserum?"

Ginny didn't see the point in denying it, nor did she want to. Quietly, she replied, "Yes."

"Hm," he said, looking down at the inside up his cup, and then he picked it up and rose, going slowly into the kitchen. Ginny just waited, listening to him dump the tea, then rinse the inside of the cup with tap water. If Ginny was perhaps a bit unskilled at denying her curiosity, she was fairly good at awaiting potential punishment bravely and taking what she deserved. Therefore, she sat with a strange calm as he prepared himself some more tea and then returned to his seat opposite her, lowering himself into it with a sigh.

He placed his cup back on the saucer and then eyed her. "So," he said abruptly, reaching forward for a chip, "find anything interesting?"

She watched him warily, thoroughly aware that he might just be barely holding off a raging temper. Partly to offset her fear, her tone was brisk as she said, "You still hate Harry Potter, and apparently you rather like my ass."

"Hate is a strong word," he said mildly. "After all, he did save my life. Twice. Let's just say I think he's a git and leave it at that. And you do have a marvelous ass."

"Thank you. I noticed you looking that first night when I was out with Luna."

He shot her a grin and ate his chip, and Ginny double-took. If she wasn't mistaken… that was real, totally genuine humor she was seeing, with nothing malevolent lurking beneath the surface. Could it possibly be that—maybe he wasn't quite as angry with her as she'd anticipated?

He said, "I'm an Occlumens, Ginny. Not only that, but I happen to be rather good at potions myself. Let me just say that the thought that you would likely eventually use veritaserum has crossed my mind, and I had ample time to prepare if I so chose. I didn't. I chose to trust you to use that potion because I knew it was likely the only way you would get any peace of mind—and also because I believed that once you'd used it and hopefully gotten satisfactory answers, we might be able to quit dancing around one another like we have in the last two months.

"So. In hopes that you did get satisfactory answers—and judging by the fact that you haven't asked me to leave yet, I'd say you probably did—let me say that you got this one time, repercussion-free. This, I believe, has put us on fair ground, and with any luck, it soothed any… admittedly understandable fears you might have had. But from now on, we talk openly. No more of this tiptoeing around. I'm tired of hiding things, Ginny, and I'm willing to bet you're tired of trying to discover what I've hidden. So, with your permission, I'd like to start fresh, on a foundation of trust—like two normal people."

Ginny watched him in silence for a moment, and then she said, "You do realize it's impossible for either of us to behave like normal people, right?"

He rolled his eyes and took some more chips. She continued mercilessly. "No, I mean it—and anyway, I'm not so sure normal people begin relationships on foundations of trust, anyway. Lies told to make themselves look better, I think, and mutual delusion, but certainly not trust."

"Are you calling what we have a relationship?"

"Are you?"

They stared at one another for a moment before he snorted and looked away. Ginny grinned triumphantly, got up, and deposited herself in his lap, putting her arms around his neck. "You're going to actively be the death of me, aren't you, woman?" he asked, looking down at her.

"I was just thinking that only children and youngest children have a lot in common."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yes, we're both stubborn, used to getting our way, tougher and more desensitized than our peer groups, and relentless brats, but I'd say that stubborn part is probably wrong."

"How so?"

"You looked away from a staring contest first. No self-respecting youngest child would do that, beaten or not."

"Who's saying I'd been beaten?"

"Well, are we together or are we not?"

"Are you sure you don't want to get some more veritaserum before asking me that question?"

"Draco Malfoy! You said there'd be no repercussions for that!"

"Repercussions means me doing something similar to you for the sake of revenge. Merciless teasing does not follow under the umbrella of repercussions."

"Bloody hell," she muttered, "I knew I was going to regret that. It's not nice to tease, Draco."

The smile faded from his face, and his hands went to her waist, thumbs lightly and hypnotically stroking her hipbones, each touch sending little jolts of electricity out to her fingertips and down to her toes. He leaned her back, bending slowly over her and inching closer, breathing heavier, and, inches from her lips, he said, "Ginny."

She still hadn't gotten used to the sound of her name from his mouth. It had an… extremely unsettling effect. "What?" she mumbled, getting a horrible feeling of where this was going but unable to help herself from letting him touch her, hover mere centimeters away.

"…what was that you were saying about teasing?"

"Suck my broomstick, Malfoy," she said, sitting up abruptly and struggling away from him, but he had a hold on her waist and pulled her back down firmly in his lap, cutting off her sudden unwilling laugh with a very pointed kiss. She imagined it meant something like see, I'm not as cruel as you are, look at me go, defying your expectations—

—until she tried to reach up to him and he broke away abruptly with a mock frown. "Wait, you thought this was—no, Ginny, how many times do I have to tell you, we have to make it to the theater on time—"

And she gave a howl of not entirely humorless frustration, finally broke free from his grip, and retreated to the other side of the table to eat in unmolested peace and reflect on two concurrent facts. First, she apparently had an official boyfriend now. Second, everyone in her life (except for Luna, who already knew and didn't disapprove—though she probably didn't approve either, but Ginny would take what she could get) was going to have her head for this one when they inevitably found out.

And despite the fact that she was in for a hell of a time and despite the fact that that smarmy, smirking Malfoy didn't deserve any evidence of her approval right now, she could not seem to stop smiling.

Present Day

Ginny finished her story with an air of mingled finality and relief, once again omitting all of the parts that involved anything less chaste than hand-holding. Once done, she leaned back, folded her arms, and scowled around the table at her brothers, simultaneously broadcasting I'm quite pleased to have got that off my chest and if you dare ask me to repeat any of that I will force-feed you your own hair.

Fortunately, none of them looked like they needed her to clarify anything. Charlie was still passed out and Percy was still gone. Bill was studying his drink thoughtfully, and George was pulling a familiar face, one that said okay, sounds sketchy, but you can't learn anything if you don't take chances so we'll give it a shot—usually applied to joke experimentation and often followed by disaster, so being relieved by the sight of it was a new sensation for Ginny. Ron was turning redder, but he was silent, and she couldn't help but imagine that he was trying (and failing) to find flaw in her stunt with the veritaserum.

The moment of peace broke soon enough, though, as Ron looked around and realized that no one else was raising an objection. Despite the nearly foolproof measures Ginny had taken, he was obviously still reluctant to accept that Malfoy might not have wicked intentions, and he clearly wanted to make it known. "I don't believe thi—" he began to growl, and was cut off abruptly as George got him round the neck in a headlock.

"Settle down, little brother," he drawled. "Worse things have happened."

"How can you say that?" asked Ron, grunts interspersing the question as he tried to push and pull himself free of his brother's grip.

"Because they have. The war is over now. Sure, Malfoy was a right git in his school days—"

"A murderous bigot!" howled Ron. "He made Hermione's life hell!"

"And Hermione has forgiven him," Ginny interjected. "As have nearly all of the injured parties, and if I remember right, Ron, all he ever did to you was tease you for being poor and enjoying the company of non-purebloods—which he did to all of us, if you'll recall. If I can get past that, then I have a feeling you can, too."

At the conclusion of her scolding, George let Ron go, and he shot back against his seat, looking totally rumpled. He straightened his clothes and looked angrily around at his brothers, seeking some support. As George was clearly too amused by this whole situation to be of any help, he pleaded his case to Bill, who was looking neutral enough. "Bill, come on. He's a Death Eater!"

"Ex," Ginny reminded him sharply.

Bill cleared his throat. "Snape was an ex Death Eater, too. He ended up becoming our strongest ally. Without him, there's no way we would have won the war."

"Yeah, but—"

"And as far as Malfoy goes, none of us saw him more than Harry did in that period when he was with the Death Eaters, and… well, you know what Harry said. Malfoy was just a scared little kid. He wouldn't kill Dumbledore, and later, when he could have identified Harry for Bellatrix Lestrange—"

"Oh, so because he decided not to kill in those two instances, we should just welcome him into the family?"

"Not necessarily," Bill said quietly. "But I think Ginny had a point about self-fulfilling prophecies. The more Malfoy is treated like an evil wretch, the more he's going to believe that's all he can be. Maybe… maybe this is what he need. Access to good people, to an alternative life from the one he was intended to live."

Ron opened is mouth, then closed it and breathed heavily from his nose as he glanced around at the siblings that were still conscious, realizing that he was improbably outnumbered and clearly needed to take a different approach. After thinking hard for a few seconds, he spoke again, clearly trying for the level-headed, even-tempered approach. "I've no objection to Malfoy reforming, or whatever. If he wants to become the next Severus Snape, that's his business. What I object to is that he apparently needs our sister in order to play good guy; doesn't that bother you?!"

"Well, actually, out of all the women I know, Ginny'd be the one I'd most trust to date someone shady," Bill replied breezily, and this time, Ginny joined Ron in gaping at him.

"Yeah," George joined in. "She certainly has a mum-like scowl that inspires unholy terror in lesser men—yeah, Ginny, that's it exactly!" he added enthusiastically as she turned her glare on him. "It should do to keep the ferret in line, and if it doesn't… well. There are five of us, six if you count Ginny, and only one of him," he finished simply.

Ron looked vaguely gratified, but only vaguely. Before he could start arguing, Bill cut smoothly in again. "Look, Ron, as displeased as we might be about it, Ginny's an adult now. We can't just keep her locked up in a closet all day."

"We can try," growled Ron, eyeballing his sister.

"You can lose some fingers," she growled back, looking at him with equal disfavor.

"And, from the story she's told us," continued Bill, "she took some very clever precautious and made sure that she'd be safe before committing to anything. Ginny's a pretty good judge of character, we all know it."

Ginny thought that this was a touching show of loyalty and good faith from her eldest brother, and she rewarded him by putting her head on his shoulder. Also, she wasn't sure, but she thought the invigoration draught was wearing off—at least, Bill's bony shoulder seemed to be a suddenly ridiculously inviting headrest.

George leaned over to Ron. "Come on, mate," he said cajolingly. "After all, it's not as if we've ever really approved of who our baby sister chooses to date, so not much is new here, except that this time, if the slightest thing goes wrong, we'll actually kill him."

"You'd better not," mumbled Ginny.

Ron looked around at them all again, appearing just a trifle frantic this time, and at length, he appeared to reach a decision. "Bloody hell," he growled, reaching for the bottle, "you're all a bunch of apologists. Well, fine, Ginny, come on then."

Ginny's eyes, which had been drifting shut, snapped open again. "Come on, what?"

He stared at her as if she'd gone dim. "I need to get ragingly drunk so I can forget how angry this whole situation makes me, and since you're the one perpetuating this situation, you're going to match me, shot for shot."

Charlie suddenly bolted upright, badly startling all of his siblings except for Bill, who looked as if he'd rather expected it. Blearily looking around, a red mark on his forehead from where it had been resting against the table, he asked plainly, "Did somebody say shot?"

About an hour before the sky began to lighten in anticipation of sunrise, Draco Malfoy checked his watch, rallied his spirits, and set off to go find his girlfriend and bring her home. Quite cleverly, he thought, he'd gotten the location of the pub where they'd be from Granger before he'd left Ginny's office earlier that day, and so he flooed over, hoping that they hadn't gotten themselves booted out already.

As he stepped from the fireplace into the commotion, though, he reflected wryly that perhaps it would have been better if they had, for he believed he'd probably have a fairer chance of finding Ginny among the maze of dark alleyways outside than hunting her down amidst this throng of redheads.

Just look for the pretty one, he told himself, and began looking from face to face in search of her.

The huge dragon-loving one and the twin were closest, and the former had his arm over the latter's shoulder as they treated the pub to a rather tuneless rendition of The Ballad of Beedle the Bard. They each had a massive mug in hand and didn't appear to notice him as he passed.

As he went past the loo, he spotted the curly-haired, slightly spotty brother—the one who had been the member's toady for a while, if he remembered correctly. He was curled up on the floor outside of the door, looking green and miserable.

Ron was fighting drunkenly near the bar, and from the look on the bartender's face, he was about thirty seconds from getting forcibly expelled. Draco ignored him as he finally spotted Ginny. She was sitting at a table with her older brother, the one Draco knew almost nothing about (except that he'd married that part-Veela French girl who'd competed in the Triwizard torment), and so he approached them warily indeed, unsure if he was about to have to dodge curses and fists. The brother just looked calmly at him, though, and as recognition registered on his face, he gave Draco a slight nod—it wasn't exactly friendly, but it wasn't quite evil Death Eater git trying to get into my sister's pants die die die, either.

Reassured, Draco drew close and looked down at Ginny. It appeared that either alcohol had gotten the best of her or the invigoration draught had worn off, maybe both, because she was bent over with her cheek on the table and her eyes tightly closed.

Draco checked for drool. When he didn't find any, he briefly considered conjuring some fake drool so he could tease her about it, but quickly dismissed the idea as undignified, settling for reaching over and shaking her shoulder. "Ginny."

No response. The shaking turned to poking. "Ginny. Ginny. Ginny."

Finally, she stirred, moaned unpleasantly, and turned her head away without opening her eyes, lifting her hand to show him her middle finger. "Why, Ginny Weasley, I never. What would your mother think?"

"She'd think you can piss off, Malfoy," slurred Ginny, and then seemed to finally realize who she was talking to and shot up, blinking heavily. "Draco?"

"In the flesh," he said with a sight bow.

"You can't be here," she said plaintively. "They'll kill you."

Draco studied her, a smile creeping over his face. "You are… extremely drunk."

"Piss off. I mean it," she snapped. "Ron's been out for blood all night."

Draco glanced up as, as if on cue, Ron and the fellow with whom he had been fighting were forcibly ejected from the establishment, the cheery ring of the bell hovering over the door signifying their departure. "I'm somehow… not so worried about that."

Ginny was staring up at him, brown eyes bright and somewhat hazy, and she reached out and grabbed the edge of his robes, pulling him close, so she didn't have to stand up to put her arms around him. "I've been talking about you all night."

"Have you?" he asked distractedly, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead—judging from the disappointed sound she made, she'd been expecting more, but he exactly wasn't about to stick his tongue down her throat, not with her brother sitting right there, cool earring and casually semi-accepting nod or not. "Good things, I hope."

She buried her face in his stomach, but he still heard her when she muttered, "All terrible things."

He smirked, instinctively glanced at Ginny's cool brother (who was shaking his head inscrutably), then stepped back, eliciting a groan of protest and a glare from her. "No, none of that," he said sternly. "You had no sleep last night, and that invigoration draught Granger fed you has clearly worn off. You need to get home and in bed, and fast, because I'm not keen on the idea of carrying you once you really crash."

Ginny let him draw her up from her seat, and as she stumbled, immediately off-balance, she complained, "She's not Granger anymore."

"Yes, I'm aware," Draco said easily, putting one of her arms over his shoulder and putting his arm around her waist, "but there are so many of you. For the sake of clarity, she's Granger."

"And heaven forbid you just call her by—y'know—her name."

"Oh, I couldn't do that. That would go against a dozen years of perfectly good tradition. The only reason I call you anything other than Weasley is that we're dating," he said, absently collecting her scarf from the seat and winding it around her neck so they wouldn't lose track of it and checking the table to make sure she wasn't leaving anything she would miss.

"Well, don't I feel flattered," she grumbled, and then groaned and pitched forward.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, now," he cautioned her, catching her before she could get very far and tilting her upright again. "All right, now, come on. We're going to get you in bed."

"You sure you're up to it?" the cool brother asked quietly. Draco glanced at him, and saw that the man was looking at him with… well, it wasn't quite cool menace, but whatever it was, it was disconcerting. Sort of a you should think twice before walking out of here with my drunken little sister because if anything bad happens to her then you're assuming full responsibility and I will have no trouble in completely ending you.

Draco was beginning to think twice about his assessment of this brother as being pretty laid-back, but Ginny appeared to have it in hand, suddenly raising her head and slurring, "Oh, I see, Bill. You were saving all of your big-brotherly disapproval until Draco got here, is that it?"

"Maybe," Bill said carefully, eyes still fixed on Draco. "Or maybe a brother just isn't comfortable sending his exhausted, drunk sister home alone with some guy."

To that, Ginny offered the stunning rejoinder, "I'm not drunk, you're drunk!"

"Um, Ginny," Draco said, shifting her slightly away from her brother as he felt that she wasn't helping their case as much as trampling all over it. "It's… it's all right, really. Um." He looked at her brother, whose expression hadn't warned a jot. Bloody hell, he thought, I absolutely despise doing this sort of thing. Still, he knew full well he wasn't getting Ginny out of here until he'd convinced this brother of hers that he genuinely meant her no harm, and so with a sigh he said, "Er—Bill, right?"

"That's right," said the cool brother with a slight nod.

"We haven't met. I'm Draco," Draco said, offering his hand.

"Yes," said Bill wryly. For a moment, Draco didn't think he would actually do it, but after a second he reached forward and shook Draco's hand. This gesture of good form, though, was somewhat diminished when he added, "I've heard all about you."

Draco didn't falter. He just glanced at Ginny and said, "If that's the case, then I'm sure she's told you about the numerous times she's beaten me up."

Bill merely blinked as Ginny said eloquently, "That's horse shit."

"No, it's true," Draco assured him. "I'm actually worried that the relationship is turning abusive. I mean—how many times is too many? I'm starting to get tired of making apologies for you, Ginny, I really am—"

"Draco," she said in a sudden burst of clarity, "I swear, I'm tired and my head hurts and I just want to go to bed. If you insist on playing who's got the bigger broomstick with my brother right now, be my guest, but I am leaving."

"Point taken. I'll make it quick," he said, and turned his attention to Bill again. "Anyway. I'm not just some guy. I'm Ginny's boyfriend, and I'm quite keen on seeing her safe and happy, just like you. I'm not going to let anything happen to her, and just in case you needed some proof of that aside from my good word and presumably hers—" Here, Bill and Ginny let out a simultaneous, curiously identical snort, and Draco looked between them with a furrowed brow for a split second before shaking it off, thinking siblings with the mingled derision and vague curiosity of an only child, and went on. "—I'm a Slytherin, and therefore fully aware of my best interests. You know my name. You know my history. You know how to find me. You and your family outnumber me, and you and your family are… politically influential. This isn't a case of mutually assured destruction so much as me simply getting obliterated if she gets hurt in any way."

Bill lifted his mug to his mouth, studying Draco over the rim, and Draco definitely got the feeling that at some point they'd switched gears and were talking about more than just getting Ginny home safely. After a moment, though, Bill dropped his eyes and took a drink. Maybe it was Draco's assurance that he wouldn't do anything so foolhardy as to hurt Ginny when the odds were so stacked against him, maybe it was the almost instinctive moves he was making to care for her in her drunken, sorry state, but it appeared that Bill had decided that he wasn't a genuine threat. "Don't let anything happen to her, then," he said simply, and gave a slightly dismissive nod.

Draco was rather fascinated by this display of oldest-sibling authority, so strange to him, and he might have stayed and poked at it if he didn't have a drunken girlfriend lolling on his arm and a gauntlet of brothers still ahead of him. "Well, then," he said with a tone of false cheerfulness, "good night!"

"About time," mumbled Ginny, and Draco secured his grip on her and began making his way through the labyrinthine pub to the fireplace.

They made it without incident, but just as they were stepping into the green flames, the bell above the door rang again, and Draco looked up, only to find himself locking eyes with Ron Weasley—not exactly the person he wanted to chat with at the moment, at least not until Weasley had gotten used to the idea of Draco dating his sister.

Ron's eyes were bloodshot and his jaw was hanging open belligerently, and it took him a moment to realize what he was looking at, but understanding flared soon enough and he lifted one quavering finger fiercely and howled, "YOU!"

Draco was not in the mood for a fight. He quickly dashed some powder into the flames and recited Ginny's address, and the last sight he had before the pub whirled out of his vision was Ron launching himself towards the fireplace, his massive dragon-loving brother moving to intercept as if in slow motion. Then, the sight disappeared, replaced by grate after grate as they were swept to Ginny's home.

When they arrived, stumbling out of the fireplace, Ginny was coughing, and Draco moved fast to clear her hair out of her face, worried that she might be about to retch. He found instead that she was laughing, and as he looked down at her in bewilderment, she choked, "Did you—did you see—his face?"

"I did," he remarked dryly, setting her down with a thump on the couch. "And I'm counting on Testosterone Factory—"

"Charlie."

"—Charlie to stop him from following us here and trying to end my life and therefore the problem of our relationship," he said wryly, stooping down to loosen the laces on her boots.

Ginny unwound her scarf from her neck, watching him with a strange expression as she did. Draco felt slightly uncomfortable with the role of caregiver (or, more accurately, he felt slightly uncomfortable with the fact that he didn't feel uncomfortable taking care of her, partially because she didn't need it very often and partially because he felt a strange pleasure in being the one to do these things for her), and so, as usual, he teased her. "Merlin's Beard, Ginny, your feet are rank," he told her as he removed her boots. "What, did you rub them down in pickle brine?"

"Makes a great moisturizer," she shot back, not missing a beat despite her level of inebriation, and then she was leaning forward again. Draco thought she was losing her balance again, and so immediately snapped up to steady her, but it became clear as she put her hands on his shoulders that she'd intended the movement. "You might as well start calling my brothers by their names, Draco," she told him with the almost amusing solemnity of the very drunk.

He reached up and covered her hands with his—hers were cold, so he closed his fingers tightly around them as he said, knowing how it felt to be patronized and so treating her with according seriousness, "I know. I'm just warning you, though, it will take time—and I imagine it will take them some time to warm up to me, if they ever do."

She snorted and dropped her head. "You're right about that," she muttered. "I don't think Ron ever will."

"Big surprise there," he said gently, reaching over and nicking the bottom of her chin with his fingertip to get her to look up again. "And the others? What did they think?" He wasn't asking because he was concerned—Draco personally couldn't care less if he had their approval. However, he was well aware that a decent response from her brothers could make this whole thing easier, and could therefore make their relationship stronger in the end, and so he was genuinely curious to find out how the night had gone.

Ginny thought about it for a moment. "George seemed all right, though I sort of think that's because he's planning to use this to do horrible things to you."

"That's comforting."

"Percy was disapproving as usual, but I'm pretty sure that in a short while he'll start thinking of all the possibilities an alliance between our families could afford, so… I don't think he'll be much of a problem. Charlie just seemed… bemused by the whole thing. Bemused and amused. I don't know, he and Bill are kind of blank slate because they didn't go to school with you and… well. Bill mentioned that Snape had the same kind of history and ended up being a hero. So."

"Ah, yes, Bill," said Draco dryly. "He was chilly, wasn't he."

"To you," she said, slipping away from him and falling onto her back on the couch. "He was actually probably my strongest ally throughout the night."

"Really? That's surprising."

"Not… not really. I think… he knows how it feels, to an extent."

"Does he?"

"When he first started dating Fleur, I can't say he got… a lot of support. Even from me." She snorted. "Especially from me. So, because Bill is Bill and he's an impossibly good man, instead of seeing this as an opportunity for revenge, he saw this as a chance to save me from experiencing the same trouble he did—at least, as much as he could. Doesn't mean he approves, but he's… supportive."

"He looked like he was fully prepared to eat me alive."

"Making up for more or less coming down on your side is all. No, Bill's not one to run headlong into a bloodbath. He'd rather take care of his business privately."

Draco didn't remark on how mental that was. Instead, he stood up and poked her on the shoulder. "Don't get comfortable. You sleep on this couch, you'll wake up with a bad back tomorrow."

"Ugh," she said, twisting over and burying her face in the couch pillow. "You are so annoying."

"See what I get for trying to be nice to you."

"You're like my mother," she said, but he could hear the smile in her voice. Still, that slight couldn't go unpunished, so he shrugged.

"Well, since you're not going anywhere soon," he said, turned around, and sat on her.

She shrieked. "Malfoy, get off of me!"

"What was that you were saying about calling people by their first names?" he asked smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're—ungh—sitting on my—oof—back," she declared as she tried to writhe out from underneath him to very little success. After a few short seconds, she collapsed, panting. "I think 'Malfoy' is perfectly appropriate, given our current situation."

"Suit yourself," he said with a shrug. "If I get off of you, will you go to bed?"

"Fine," she growled into the pillow, and gracefully, he stood and turned around, offering her his hand. She mock-glared at him, stood up free of assistance, and stormed to her bedroom. He followed, smirking.

He didn't expect for her to forgive him anytime soon, and so he was surprised when, just before they reached the doorway, she flipped around and took him by the lapels—he thought it might just be an attack and was lifting his hands to defend himself, but she surprised him by reaching up and giving him a long, surprisingly vehement kiss, one which he had very few qualms about returning, though halfway through he had to grab her waist to steady her.

After a moment, she pulled away, looked up at him, and simply said, "I'm glad you're in my life."

He raised his eyebrows. "Even with the kidnapping and interrogation you've just undergone?"

"Even so." She stood on tiptoe, pecked him again, and then lost her balance, and he caught her, snickering.

"All right, now," he said, nudging her towards the room. "In bed."

With the refreshing lack of self-consciousness he'd come to associate with her (or maybe it was just the alcohol), she stripped off her cloak and coat, leaving her dress on, and he let her, figuring that discarded shoes and cloak were good enough. By the time he made sure she was lying on her side and that her blankets were fixed with a warming charm, she'd fallen asleep, the crash in full effect.

Draco looked down at her, and a strange, rarely-seen expression crossed his face. The smirks and smugness were gone, his forehead smooth and his eyelids half-lowered. He looked like a man at peace, and as he reached down and brushed a bright strand of hair away from her mouth, he certainly felt like one. Oh, tomorrow, when she rolled out of bed with a pounding head and in a foul mood, he would tease her mercilessly about her disorderly behavior tonight, maybe to the point where she actually threw him out of her flat, but for now, he would let her finally catch up on her rest.

Drawing his wand to extinguish her lamp, he turned on his heel and left her in peace, heading off to brew up a potion to relieve the inevitable hangover she'd be suffering from tomorrow. Merlin knew, after the night she'd just had, she would need it.

The End

A/N - Aaaaand there we are. Although this particular tale is over, I definitely am not ruling out perhaps returning to this... universe, so to speak, since there's a lot I can still do with it, not the least of which is examining the reactions of Draco's family and friends, taking a more detailed look at the development of Draco and Ginny's relationship to this point, following them from this point forward... I don't know, we'll see what happens. In the meantime, I hope this little romp proved sufficient to satisfy your Draco-Ginny cravings; I know I had a lot of fun writing it. To everyone who reviewed throughout- I'm incredibly grateful that you took the time to comment and encourage, and I hope you enjoyed the reading experience. Thanks to everyone who took the time to read this, and if you felt inclined to drop me a line telling me what you think, I'd be thrilled. :)