5 September 1985

Laughter had returned to the playground – the sweet-sounding laughter of children at play. A fear not to be named had vanished, and everyone waited – waited for the whispers to die down and for peace to return.

On the playground were two young children – maybe four, maybe five – who were doing their best to take advantage of that peace, leaving their mothers to their shopping and exploring the world around them. And like birds, they took to flight: flying from swing set to slide to roundabout. A pale boy and a freckled girl – both strangers until that day – whizzed past each other without a care.

The boy was uncommonly quiet for his age, unusually controlled. And while the freckled girl with her long red hair ran and skipped and tripped wherever she went, the boy walked. He seemed wary of her yet excited at the prospect of playing. He was a child not accustomed to other children, but it was he, with his white-blond hair and pointed chin, who had chosen to speak first.

"That's my swing," he told the girl in an authoritative manner, approaching her in front of the swing set.

The redhead, the only other child on the playground, was twirling gaily on the chain. She glanced up at the older boy and grinned mischievously.

"Your name isn't on it," she responded, as though accustomed to the game of give and take.

The boy scowled, his features hardening. "Give it!" he demanded.

Ceasing her spinning, the girl tilted her head to the side, studying the pale boy intently. "Say pwease."

Taken aback, he blinked at her. "Wot?"

"Say pwease, and I give you the swing."

The boy contemplated this for a moment and then abruptly shook his head. "No. Give it to me, now!"

The little girl jumped to her feet, glaring up at him. "You are a mean boy," she declared hotly, fire flickering in her big brown eyes, "and I don't wike you!"

She shoved past the boy with the full force of her body, knocking him out of her way.

"I don't like you either!" he corrected, grabbing the swing and turning around to watch her stomp away.

"Fine!"

"Fine!" he yelled back, taking a seat. He watched her go, her red pigtails swinging, and his face scrunched up in a rather unattractive sneer. "Stupid ginger!"

Red pigtails ceased swinging, and the girl spun around, narrowing her eyes. "I'm telling!" she threatened, promptly turning around to make her way towards the shops – towards their mothers.

The pale boy instantly jumped to his feet. "No you're not!"

"Yes I am!" she yelled over her shoulder.

"Get back here!" he demanded, panic rising as he raced down the hill after her.

Screaming and laughter could be heard for miles as the pale, blond-haired boy chased after the freckled little girl with the red pigtails – all around the playground and finally into the waiting arms of their mothers.

Laughter had returned to the playground, although peace was still yet to be found.

-x-

15 October 1987

The weather was cool and sunny on the Thursday afternoon. Bundled up in far too many shirts and jumpers, Ginny Weasley and her oldest brother, Bill, walked hand in hand towards the playground.

"Billy, you can let my hand go now!" she squeaked, trying desperately to wrest her hand free.

"Mum said not to let you out of my sight and that's exactly what I'm doing." He reached up and pushed the gate open, ushering Ginny inside.

The park had a Warmth Charm placed on it, which instantly made Ginny begin to sweat. She tugged fiercely at the buttons on her jumper.

"Don't worry, Gin," Bill reassured her. "I'll help you." He then lifted her up and placed her on a bench, slipping the large woollen jumper over head, leaving the outer jersey on. "Okay, you're good now. I'll be sitting over here on this bench if you need me."

Ginny wasn't listening. Over the top of his head, she saw a bright red toy broomstick, and she wanted it. She jumped from her brother's arms and ran for it, leaving Bill behind.

Once Ginny made it to the broom, she fell to her knees with excitement, lifting it into her hands. Before she could get too excited, however, it was rudely torn from her grip.

"I didn't bring my broom here for a stupid girl like you to play with it!" spat a blond-haired, grey-eyed little boy dressed in expensive robes, not much older than she.

Ginny clenched her tiny hands into fists and glanced up at the boy, red-faced. "You know, you look better in frills and lace than me, so if anyone is a stupid girl—!"

The boy, whose name was engraved on the hover broom, looked down at his emerald green robes with a pout lingering on his lips. "This isn't girly. It was my father's!"

"Well, he must be a girl too."

Draco's face fell, and then instantly turned red. "You take that back, you red-haired, penniless wench!"

He had no idea what that meant, but he'd heard his father say it, and it seemed to fit the situation at hand perfectly.

Ginny put a hand to her hip and glared. "I will not take it back! You're a girl, your dad's a girl, and I bet his dad's a girl too!"

Before Ginny could continue, Draco jumped on her, pummelling her with his small fists. Growling loudly, Ginny flipped Draco over onto his back, hitting his shoulders with her tiny fists, giving as good – if not better – than she got.

"Draco Malfoy!" came the voice of his far too young, far too docile nanny.

Bill, in turn, was beside his little sister within seconds. He swung an arm around Ginny's waist and lifted her up, brushing her hair away from her face. "Easy, killer," he mumbled, and then turned to the nanny and bowed sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

Bill set Ginny down once she was calm and took her hand, leading her out of the playground.

"We're going home now, and you are going to explain to Mum why you can't stay at a park for longer than twenty minutes without getting yourself into a fist fight!"

Pouting, Ginny turned her head to see Draco's nanny fussing over his torn robes and was slightly taken aback when he looked in her direction and grinned.

-x-

1 September 1991

Draco stood silently beside his mother and father on the filthy train platform, watching as herds of people scampered past. He sniffled sadly to himself and then gagged at the acrid stench of the black smoke that pooled from the high ceiling above.

Glancing up at his parents, Draco observed how they posed regally for the boorish crowd to admire and frowned. Though dry-eyed, Draco truly did not wish to leave his parents – he hardly got to spend any time with them already, and the scant minutes he was privileged enough to spend in their company were far too precious to squander.

"Mother," Draco began priggishly, but as soon as his mother and father lowered their cool gazes to meet his, he found himself at lost for words.

"Don't take that tone with your mother, Draco. You know better than that," Lucius said, reprimanding his son firmly, and Draco lowered his eyes in shame.

He wanted to protest his departure, but how could he be so ungrateful? All his life, Draco's parents' great wealth and standing in society had ensured that he would want for nothing. His father worked hard to keep them in comfort, and his mother maintained their good name by meeting with only the most prominent families in wizardom. They would have sent Draco to Durmstrang if his mother hadn't protested, insisting that he stay closer to home. He had to be grateful for that.

A sharp noise pierced the low rumble of voices, and Draco jumped. He felt his mother's slender hand press down reassuringly on his shoulder, and she leaned down to kiss him gently on the cheek.

"Goodbye, precious," she cooed quietly so that no one could hear. "Don't forget to write."

His father simply held out his hand, firmly shaking Draco's, reminding his son that he was to see them again at Christmas time. And suddenly, Draco was rushed off in a crowd of students, clamouring to make his way onto the train before it departed.

Quietly stepping up onto the train platform, Draco glanced back towards his parents. He had thought to wave to them when he saw a flash of colour and a familiar girl with long red hair. She was waving fiercely at him, and Draco found the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a grin. About to wave back, his hand was stayed when he saw the red-haired girl rush forward to hug another red-haired boy.

Suddenly, Draco no longer felt like smiling.

-x-

16 August 1992

"I'm so sorry!" the young redhead exclaimed, reaching down to pick up the boy's parcels that she had accidentally knocked out of his arms. "I should really watch where I'm going." She offered him a sheepish grin, as well as his packages.

The boy brushed away pale blond strands of hair from his eyes, offering the girl what could best be described as a smirk. "No worries."

Normally, he would have snapped at anyone who would have run into him, but he was in an uncharacteristically good mood: his father was taking him shopping at Diagon Alley for school supplies. His father was being especially generous, which made Draco happy. And the fact that the girl immediately apologised, he could easily forgive. It also helped that she was somewhat cute, for a ginger anyway.

"What's your name?" he asked, finding himself somewhat perplexed by his own congenial attitude. But Draco was certain that he knew the girl from somewhere – Hogwarts obviously.

The girl smiled warmly, holding her hands together in front of herself. "My name's Ginevra, but everybody calls me Ginny – rolls off the tongue a bit easier, I guess." She tilted her head to the side and blinked long eyelashes at him. "And you?"

Draco was somewhat taken aback. This was the girl whom he'd seen waving at the train station last year – hugging a red-haired boy. He absently found himself wondering if she remembered him, too. "I'm—"

"You get away from my sister, you slimy git!" came a voice that was far too familiar to the both of them.

Draco spun around to see that same red-haired boy – twice his height – lumbering towards him.

"Ronald Weasley! You get away from him this instant!"

And that was when it all clicked into place: red hair, freckles, Weasley...

"Weasley?" he asked the girl in front of him, tasting the name as though it were something vile on his tongue.

Ginny closed her mouth and furrowed her brow, unable or unwilling to respond to his question. Draco turned around to face her brother and glared hotly at the redhead.

"Next time keep your harlot of a sister away from me," he ordered, sneering darkly. "She nearly dirtied my robes barrelling into me the way she did."

Before Ron could pull a fist back to retort, Ginny stepped in between the two, facing Draco.

"Well, if your head weren't so big, perhaps I could have avoided you!" she snapped back. "But I guess you need a lot of space to store that huge ego of yours."

"The size of my head and the placement of my ego is none of your concern, blood-traitor," he hissed, grabbing his parcels and stepping past her. "Why don't you go back to your filthy family and leave the pure-blooded, well-respected wizard families like mine alone!"

"Wait!" she called out to him, stepping past Ron.

Draco stopped and glanced over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes. "What?"

"Go ahead and spell harlot for me," she dared. "I'd like to see you try."

-x-

1 September 1992

"GRYFFINDOR!" yelled the Sorting Hat.

Ginny pulled the hat off her head, her heart pounding, and a huge grin spread across her face. She quickly scanned the Gryffindor table, seeing the students all applauding. Fred and George were exchanging high fives with their friends, Percy was actually laughing out loud, and Ron...Ron wasn't there.

Ginny frowned as she walked over to her new table, her gaze darting to the other tables upon reflex. Everyone's attention was on the next first-year to be Sorted, except for one pale, very familiar face.

Draco Malfoy was staring straight at her, his delicate features twisted into a sneer. The expression was nastier than it had been when they had encountered each other only a month earlier. The sheer fury behind those grey eyes belonged to a much older boy, not a twelve-year-old child. Ginny might have just returned the glare and not thought of it, but there was a wounded look there, too – angry and lonely. He was obviously skilled at concealing it, but Ginny knew: she lived with a household of brothers who thought showing any kind of insecurity was girly.

The boy was miserable, and she felt guilt bubbling in her stomach – acrid and completely unfair. But why did it matter to her what he thought, anyway? What did she have to feel guilty for?

Ginny held his gaze for a few moments, her own mouth twisting with malice brought on by her confusion. If there was one thing Ginevra Weasley hated, it was people who just didn't make any sense.

-x-

2 June 1993

Draco was good at eavesdropping. Some might even consider it a talent, which certainly came in handy when trying to get Harry Potter in trouble. He was not so thrilled, however, when he discovered that Ginny Weasley had almost died in the Chamber of Secrets because of his father. He couldn't believe it – didn't want to believe it. Sure, he had talked big about wanting to help the heir of Slytherin, but he never thought anyone would actually get hurt. He never thought he and his family would actually be dragged into the mess. He never thought his father's actions could make him feel so gut-wrenchingly awful.

It was stupid, really. It wasn't as if he had put the diary in the redhead's cauldron, but he still felt bad. So bad, in fact, that when he found her huddled on the floor at the back of the library, crying quietly to herself, he didn't keep on walking as he might have done. He actually stopped and stared at her, taking in her tear-stained cheeks and puffy brown eyes, and then his stomach did that funny thing again – the wriggly, sinking feeling that made him feel like a pit had opened up inside him.

"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked in a choked voice.

Draco wanted to say sorry for everything that his father had done, or at least ask her if she was okay, but something quite different came out of his mouth.

"Well, I was coming to get a book," he drawled, "but it was a bit hard to concentrate with you droning like a whale at my feet."

Her chin quivered. "Why are you always so mean?"

Draco shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't used to her being so vulnerable. Normally she would respond with her own rude comment, but today it was clear that she had no comebacks. She just hugged her knees closer to her chest, sniffling in a pathetic way.

"You know, you shouldn't cry like that," Draco observed, ignoring her question. "It makes your face go all red, and then you match your hair."

Ginny stiffened. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying," he said with a shrug.

She glared at him. "Why would I care what my face looks like when I cry? I'm upset; I'm hardly going to be thinking about whether my face is matching my hair or not."

"I can see that. You wouldn't be crying so openly, otherwise. People might start calling you 'red face'."

Ginny stared at him blankly, as if unable to believe he was actually saying these things to her.

"You see," he said gravely, "your face isn't so red any more now that you're not crying. Though that doesn't change the fact you're still an ugly, freckled-face Weasley."

"Is that supposed to make me feel bad?"

His mouth lifted just a fraction. "Maybe."

She glowered at him for a moment and then, to his delight, a small, reluctant smile touched her lips.

Draco didn't feel so bad after that.

-x-

24 December 1994

The mirror didn't lie. Draco Malfoy looked quite dashing in his perfectly tailored dress robes. Pansy would be waiting for him, but he spent just one more moment gazing at his own reflection before he made his way to the common room to pick her up.

As he had guessed, Pansy was wearing the very same ridiculous frock that his mother had pointed out to her that summer. He had inwardly mocked it, but, being Pansy, she mistook his level of attention as a sign of interest.

"Are you ready, Pansy?" he asked impatiently.

She smiled and hooked arms with his. "Yes, Draco, I'm ready."

They walked up the stairs and made their way to the Great Hall, which was already filled with people. Pansy's face was glowing with excitement, but Draco looked just as indifferent as he normally did. That was until he heard a familiar voice.

"Oh, Neville, you're a lovely dancer," she said with a giggle, and then an audible cry of pain. "Oh, don't worry: that toenail will grow back."

Her giggle ran down Draco's spine like nails on a chalkboard – only it aggravated him even more than usual because of who the laughter was directed at.

Once the song ended, Draco patted Pansy's arm. "I'm going to go get some punch. You stay." Before she could say anything, he was already gone.

Draco walked over to the refreshment table and picked up a glass. He looked to his left and saw the familiar thatch of vermilion hair.

"So eager to come to the Ball that you're willing to risk your feet?" he asked with unmasked derision.

Ginny glanced at Draco over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised. "Well, excuse me for choosing a date with my brain instead of my genitals."

"Oh, yeah," Draco snorted, "because you had a lot of options."

"I didn't just pick the first person who asked me!"

The two were chest to chest before Neville came up behind them.

"Um, Ginny..." Neville paused, wringing his hands nervously as he glanced up at Draco. "Would you like to dance?"

Not taking her eyes from Draco's, Ginny allowed her housemate a wide smile. "Of course, Neville. I'd be delighted."

Draco watched her walk away hand in hand with the gangly twerp and scowled. He picked up a glass of punch to bring to Pansy, compensation for the fact that he knew he was going to be very unpleasant for the rest of the evening.

-x-

26 March 1996

"I'm warning you, Malfoy—"

It wasn't quite a growl, but it was menacing and sharp and surprisingly full of teeth for someone of her small stature.

Draco had cornered the redhead at the end of the empty hallway, away from her friends, away from any help. And while Umbridge had ordered the Inquisitorial Squad to locate Potter and his friends, Draco couldn't explain why he had volunteered to go after Ginny Weasley by himself.

"C'mon, little Weasley," he said in a tone tinged with apprehension, his voice less snide than usual. "You have nowhere to go."

Ginny drew her wand and laughed in his face. It was a spiteful laugh, one full of unadulterated hate and disgust. Draco wanted to slap her for her insolence, to punish her for her brazen laughter. But, most of all, he wanted to see the fear return to her eyes – not the hate.

The fire of hatred, however, flickered brightly in Ginny's soft brown eyes, and Draco watched as she slowly raised her wand and aimed it deliberately between his eyes.

"You don't frighten me, Malfoy," she said, spitting out his name like venom.

A hiccup of silence passed between them, a pause, and the sound of her voice – her acrid tone – kept repeating over again in his mind, inciting his ire. His silver eyes narrowed, and his grip on his wand tightened almost painfully in his hand. He hadn't yet pointed it at her; he wanted to, but something inside – a voice – whispered for him not to.

"I don't want to hurt you, Weasley," Draco admitted calmly, although his tone had come off as more of a warning than a truth.

And he was shocked by it – by his own words and the truth to them. He really didn't want to hurt the ruddy little Weasley, not like he wanted to hurt her brother, not like he wanted to hurt Potter. Unfortunately, however, she did not feel the same way.

"Too bad, Malfoy," she said in a cold voice, her brown eyes crinkling as her upper lip curled into a spiteful sneer, "because I want to hurt you."

When it happened, it happened fast: the sound of something snapping, the smell of burning wood, and the bright flash of blue light streaming from her wand, heading directly for him. It was instant, but it was lasting – and he would never forget it.

-x-

4 June 1997

"Harry's saying that Snape killed him, and he would know, right?"

"No way, Snape's a teacher...I'm willing to bet it was Malfoy. I mean, he's the one who sent that locket that nearly killed Bell."

"And he's obviously the one who poisoned Ron Weasley," someone agreed.

"Nah, Malfoy's still a student. This is Dumbledore we're talking about – it had to have been a really powerful Death Eater, maybe even You-Know-Who."

"But Dumbledore was old, and Malfoy knew a lot about the Dark Arts and stuff..."

Ginny turned and left the common room, her eyes red and her expression miserable. There was a gnawing, empty feeling in her stomach, and she couldn't bring herself to even tell them off for their gossiping. They were teenagers, after all – it was what they did. If it weren't for the terrified glint in their eyes as they discussed who had murdered their headmaster, she might have thought them heartless.

She didn't want to be around people, whether they mourned in silence or in meaningless chatter. She just wanted to curl up and cry alone. The only teachers wandering the corridors were those on guard for another attack against the school. She passed Professor Sprout, who gave her a disapproving look. Ginny murmured something about Bill and passed her in a daze.

It took her some twenty minutes to reach the Astronomy Tower, and her legs were shaking. She remembered distantly how much running she had done recently. She felt detached from the throbbing pain, as if her body and her mind were clinging onto each other by a mere tendril. Even the pressure behind her eyes was something from another world.

"What are they saying?" Harry asked, coming to stand beside her.

The words were distant, empty, and she didn't want to answer. She did anyway, resentful but somewhat grateful for his presence.

"The majority seem to think it was Malfoy," she answered tiredly.

"It wasn't," Harry said. "He was lowering his wand."

Ginny couldn't picture the scenario in her mind. She had tried to, but she couldn't. This was Malfoy. Sure, he was a bully and a bigot and a generally unpleasant person, but he couldn't kill. Could he?

He was just a child, like her. He was thrown into this, Harry had said. He was innocent, Harry had said also – so it had to be true.

"I know," she answered quietly, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry didn't speak a word, didn't turn back to look at her, and so she made her way back into the castle alone.

-x-

16 June 1998

"Wizards and witches, I present to you the graduating class of 1998!"

Draco could barely make out the muted applause from the respectable society – or what was left of it – over the raucous cries and bellows of the students on the other side of the room. They had not just survived a war; they had survived school, and had Draco been a less controlled man, he would have cheered with them. But that was not who he was, even though his side lost.

Was it ever his side?

With his chin held high, Draco waited to follow the handful of his peers off the stage at the front of the Great Hall into the main foyer. He stood next to Blaise, waiting for his parents to join them for the post-ceremony tea. Hopefully, they would leave shortly. He had no doubt that his parents would want to leave as quickly as possible. As for Draco, the boisterous yelling of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs was beginning to give him a migraine – barring the unease that he felt in such a crowd.

"Here comes the riff-raff," Blaise commented dryly, smirking at the Trio and Weasley family.

Draco's eyes briefly met with Potter's, and he averted his gaze, letting it rest on the youngest Weasley, Ginny.

The two teenager's eyes met: hers filled with puzzlement and contempt, his with disdain and something akin to guilt. He looked away first, cursing his own weakness.

How strange it was after all these years to be forced to hide in shame at social functions, as though he were a lowly house-elf, or a piece of old, gaudy furniture. Draco couldn't help but turn to observe the families and friends of the few peers that he had left. How lucky they were that their circumstances didn't prevent them from claiming centre stage. His parents' mistakes had condemned him to an eternity of disapproving glances and reluctant, curt words of acknowledgement from anyone he might come across – if he were lucky enough to run into the civil members of the public. Many wizards were far crueller.

Closing his eyes to escape the furtive glances that tore at his hubris, Draco pressed his back against the cold, hard stone of the impenetrable wall behind him. Much of the castle had been in ruin after the final battle between Potter and the Dark Lord, yet here behind him was an integral part of the school, standing firm and immovable. Over the hundreds of years that had passed, this simple wall had remained unchanged and Draco's mind reeled at the implications. He was seventeen – a grown man who had seen enough suffering to last a lifetime – and here he remained.

For the first time in his life, this ancient castle had given Draco something of worth. And in that comfort, Draco felt his pride and confidence begin to return. With time, he and his family would be able to hold their heads up high once more. Until then, Draco would remain content with the fact that his life had only thus started.

-x-

14 February 2002

Harry was babbling again. Ginny thought she should probably listen, but there was a woman outside the café wearing the most absurd hat – and was that Ernie Macmillan in a dress?

"So, that's why I thought you should move in with me," Harry finished, smiling.

Those words did register to her brain, and Ginny turned back to face him, surprised to realise that the first emotion she felt was dismay.

"But, Harry, I'm perfectly happy living where I am."

"That's not what your mum said."

"You talked to my mother?" Ginny exclaimed.

Harry nodded, not seeming to realise that he had somehow committed a crime in his girlfriend's mind.

"She told me that you were looking for a flat in the city, but you were having difficulty finding anything because of the money. It occurred to me that I have plenty of room in my flat, so I thought why not? Why not live together?"

Ginny gave a weak smile, but inside she saw that vision of herself happily independent crumbling around her.

"Anyway, I told your mum my idea, and she agreed it would be perfect, since she'd never felt comfortable about you living on your own. So we took the liberty of moving your stuff over, and—"

"Wait!" Ginny interrupted, placing her hands flat on the table as if trying to hold back the deluge he was sweeping her up in. "Do you mean to tell me that you went and moved my stuff into your flat without even asking me?"

Harry took her hand in his. "Your mother and I both agreed it would be for the best, Ginny." He gave her a crooked smile – the one that had always made her feel a little weak at the knees, except this time it just made her want to mash her croissant in his face. "Besides, I thought you would be happy to move in with me. You do love me, right?"

"I—well, of course I love you, Harry, but—"

"Then what's the problem?"

Ginny ran a hand over her face. He was right, of course. There was no rational explanation for why she was getting so upset; she just couldn't help but feel like he had somehow stolen something from her.

"Nothing's wrong," she sighed. "I just wasn't expecting this."

"I understand," Harry said sympathetically. "It's a big step to take, but don't worry, Ginny, I'll take good care of you."

Ginny knew in that moment that he didn't understand at all, but the deluge had already swallowed her by then. She followed him back to his flat and saw her belongings already unpacked and slotted neatly beside his own. It was if she had been living there for years – as if there had always been a Harry and a Ginny.

As if she had never been her own person at all.

She walked into the bathroom and saw her toothbrush entwined with his. That was when she felt like screaming.

-x-

4 October 2002

He was late for his date with Astoria – a half-hour late, to be exact. He had been seeing the youngest Greengrass for the past few months, and he had never known the girl to be exceptionally patient. But she was hot – very hot – and when he bought her gifts, she was especially generous. So he thought he had better buy her flowers.

Darting into the flower shop, Draco quickly picked out a bouquet of white roses and threw a few Galleons onto the counter. As he went to leave, he saw the young Creevey – the one that lived – out of the corner of his eye.

The boy was lingering at the edge of the aisle, staring at Draco with wide eyes caught between fright, flight, and pride. Pride won out, however, and the kid advanced, deliberately knocking his shoulder into Draco's as he slipped out the door.

Scowling, Draco thought about following the little whelp and shoving him against a wall, demanding that he apologise. It had been over three years since Hogwarts – since he had begun refurbishing the Malfoy name. For years, he had felt like he had to tiptoe around the survivors, be less confrontational, less visible – less him. But he wasn't going to hide who he was any more: he was Draco Malfoy!

Bursting out the door, he careened around the corner, intent on scaring the crap out of Creevey. Instead, he crashed into his rather annoyed date.

"Draco?"

"Astoria?" Draco countered, shocked to have met his girlfriend instead of Creevey.

"Where have you been?" she asked, straightening out her dress.

"The meeting went longer than scheduled."

Green eyes narrowed, either unconvinced or uninterested in his excuses. After all, he had just stood up Astoria Greengrass, blonde bombshell. Inexcusable.

"I stopped to buy you these," he said, holding up the bouquet of roses.

"Oh, Draco," Astoria sighed. "They're beautiful." Taking the proffered roses, she inhaled their scent and then batted her long black eyelashes at him, tucking an errant golden lock behind her ear.

Smiling, Draco offered his arm to the gorgeous blonde, who readily hooked slender arms around his.

"Where to, my dear?"

"Anywhere not near a pub," Astoria said in a bored tone, resting her head against Draco's shoulder. "I've heard nothing but Quidditch talk all afternoon."

"Oh?" Draco asked intrigued, his memory jogged. "Funny you mentioned that. I was thinking about having the company sponsor a team to help boost our image."

He glanced down to see her staring up at him rather pointedly.

"Okay, the Malfoy image," he corrected. "So what team are the plebs doting on now?"

"Hooly Harpies or something," she answered absently. "I think that freckled ginger girlfriend of Potter's plays for them."

"Ron Weasley?"

"No, silly," she giggled, swatting at his arm, "his sister. Everyone's been buzzing about her lately."

Draco snorted, a distant memory rising to the surface. "The little runt is just piggy-backing on Potter's fame," he said, offering Astoria a characteristic smirk. "But who cares about her – let's go get something to eat."

-x-

25 October 2002

Ginny entered the Ministry of Magic and checked her wand in at the counter, only half paying attention to the witch behind the screen.

"Fancy occasion?" the witch asked, gesturing to the champagne in Ginny's hand.

"Just meeting with my boyfriend to celebrate being selected for the Harpies' World Cup tour," Ginny explained with a smile. "He wasn't there for the announcement, so..." She trailed off as it occurred to her this wasn't the first time that Harry had missed one of her work functions.

"He's just so busy," Ginny added, as if this somehow explained everything.

The witch smiled and handed Ginny her wand. "I'm sure Mr Potter will be very proud of you."

"Yeah, thanks," Ginny muttered.

She headed towards the nearest lift and froze when she saw a familiar blond standing inside. Her first impulse was to walk right back through the doors and find a different lift, but that would be childish, and she did not want to look childish in front of Draco Malfoy.

Ginny pressed the button for the floor she wanted and then stood as far away from him as possible without making it look like she was actually trying to avoid him. He stared at her briefly, the faintest trace of a sneer touching his lips, but otherwise he paid no attention to her. Ginny could only be grateful for his indifference and counted down the seconds for when the doors would open again so she could escape from his uncomfortable presence.

Then the lift stopped.

There was an awkward silence as they both registered the fact that the elevator had not reached either of their floors. Ginny leaned forward and pressed the button again. The lift did not move.

"That's odd," she murmured, once more pressing the button.

The lift remained stubbornly still. Ginny felt her chest tighten with panic and pressed the button a third time, and then a fourth, and then she was pressing it so many times that the lift was filled with her frantic clicking.

"You can press that button all you like, but it isn't going to do anything," Draco said in a bored voice.

"We're stuck!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Yes, Weasley, I did realise that."

"So, what, you're just going to stand there?" she demanded, swinging around to face him.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," he replied, settling himself more comfortably against the wall.

Ginny glowered at him; he remained unmoved, looking quite content to ignore her as well as their current predicament. A sigh escaped her lips as she realised there was nothing to be done since he refused to do anything and she had no idea how to fix the elevator herself.

Neither said a word as the minutes ticked on, and then, finally, the lift started working again. Ginny exited the lift as soon as it reached the next floor, not even sparing a glance for the blond. She'd rather take the stairs than spend another minute with him.

-x-

2 November 2002

"You cannot," Ginny began as calmly as she could manage, "expect me to be civil to him."

Her teammates shifted uncomfortably. They exchanged furtive glances before one of them, a short Chaser named Adrianna Stalwart, spoke up.

"It's a good deal, Weasley," Adrianna reasoned uncomfortably. "He's rich and fairly famous. It'll be great for the team's publicity."

Ginny turned towards the girl, brown eyes flashing dangerously. "Famous? Famous?" she cried. "He's a Death Eater!"

She could just picture the scenario in her mind's eye, being forced to associate with the hopelessly aggravating man: endless scenes like the one in the lift, where both of them stood tight-lipped and uncomfortable for hours instead of minutes; having to bite her tongue whenever he made one of his rude, arrogant, imbecilic remarks. There was absolutely no way that this was going to fly with her.

"See here, Ginny," lectured their manager. "I know you don't like this, but I'm hoping you can put aside whatever grudge you have against him for the sake of the team."

"Do you have any idea what kind of things he's done?" Ginny asked, flabbergasted with their blasé attitudes. "The people he tried to kill?"

"The deal has already been made."

It would be great for publicity, sure. It would be great for publicity right up until the moment she punched the bastard in the face or hit him with a Bat-Bogey Hex.

"Ginny," coaxed Victoria, "the war was years ago. You need to start letting it go."

Truth be told, the war was not the reason she didn't want anything to do with Malfoy, but the statement had her seeing red. Let it go? Let go Fred and Lupin and Tonks and Mad-Eye and the other war heroes and the thousands of crying family members? Just let it go? Did Victoria think it was really that easy?

Sensing her rage, their manager broke in. "We're not trying to excuse that, Ginny, but we need the money. We need some fame right now before the world forgets we exist."

"Fine!" Ginny snarled. "Do what you want." She pointed a finger at him. "But I refuse to get along with him!"

She stomped away furiously, covering half of the field in a matter of minutes. She turned back at the last second to send them a wounded glare, only to trip over her own feet and land face first in the grass.

It took her another moment to get back onto her feet, and she flipped off her sniggering teammates with a two finger salute, storming back towards the changing rooms, intent on ignoring their new sponsor: Draco Malfoy.

-x-

16 January 2003

"No sugar, please. Oh, and can I have one of those mango scones? Those are wonderful."

Draco tensed and turned his head toward the sound – the voice was so familiar.

"Hello, Malfoy," Ginny greeted politely enough.

Draco briefly inclined his head to the redhead and went back to his paper, flipping through the pages absently.

"I might believe you were reading that if you were actually looking at it," Ginny said with a smug smile, walking over to his table. "There are no free tables in here, so..." She paused, motioning to their busy surroundings. "Would you mind sharing with an old school enemy?"

Draco shook his head, pointing to the seat across from him, which she readily took, placing her tea and scone on the table.

He tried to read the paper while she drank her tea, but he found himself intrigued by her pleasant demeanour. He had heard that she had vehemently protested his company's sponsorship, and he wasn't surprised – he had expected as much from their past history. And as a courtesy to her and to himself, Draco had made it a point to avoid her, knowing that she was doing the same. The fact that they had stumbled upon each other at a random café was startling, but what was even more so was that she was actually being polite.

"You were never my enemy," he muttered, after a moment, turning a page.

"Pardon me?"

"Your brothers were no treat, but I never hated you," he clarified, clearing his throat uncomfortably as he folded his paper and placed it on the table.

Ginny broke off a piece of her scone and smirked. "Well, I certainly hated you."

"Good to know."

Crossing her legs, Ginny leaned forward and eye-balled the cover of the paper that he had been reading, letting out a loud groan at the sight of the large colour photo on the front page. "Why did they have to use that picture? I look like a red-faced Hippogriff."

Draco glanced down at the photo and chuckled. "I don't know," he began, looking back up at her with critical eyes, "I think they've got you spot on, Weasley."

Ginny rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Please, stop complimenting me, Malfoy."

He ignored her and picked up the paper again, unfolding it. When a low, satisfactory moan came from the back of her throat, however, Draco's head shot up, and he quizzically looked the redhead up and down.

"What are you eating?"

"Oh, it's positively delicious," she said between bites. "You must try it"

Draco shook his head. "No thanks. I don't usually eat sweets."

"Sweets? This is breakfast!" She held out a piece of the scone to him, bringing it up to his face.

Draco's brow creased. "No, really," he pressed, annoyed that she didn't get his polite hint, "I'm not interested."

"Come on," she egged. "I promise you'll like it."

Draco shook his head resolutely, and Ginny shrugged her shoulders.

"More for me then."

Draco looked up to see her pop the last piece into her mouth with a smile, and he frowned. Women could be so annoyingly complicated.

-x-

21 February 2003

Ginny sipped her champagne and smiled as she watched the bride and groom twirl
gracefully around the dance floor. Really, it was lovely of Victoria to have invited her to the wedding, considering how new she was to the team. It was just unfortunate that the vast majority of guests were the bride and groom's Italian speaking family. She had crudely tried to explain that she didn't speak Italian more times than she could count, but now it was just getting frustrating.

"We really need to stop meeting like this."

Ginny jumped at the sound of his voice and the hot breath next to her ear. Though she hardly needed to check who the sardonic tone belonged to, she turned in her seat anyway, glancing up at the striking figure of Draco Malfoy.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Now, now, Weasley," he admonished with a smirk, "play nice." He smoothed out his dress robes, which hung well on his body, and leaned forward. "My company sponsors your team, remember? And Victoria is a smart witch who wishes to stay in my good graces."

Ginny scowled, unfazed by his charm.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked, pulling out the chair and taking a seat without waiting for an answer.

Ginny shook her head, reminding herself that she had stolen a seat from him in a café less than a month ago, and it probably wasn't the wisest move to tell one of the Harpies' main source of funding to 'bugger off'. Besides, she had been nice to him that day (considering that she had just been promoted from the reserves to full-time), so she could be pleasant once more this evening – as long as he was pleasant back.

"So, how has your evening been so far?"

Ginny downed the remainder of her champagne. "Horrendous now that you've turned up."

Draco's smirk widened. "Like they say, there's nothing wrong with a healthy grudge."

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Ginny blinked up at him innocently.

The waiter walked past, and Draco grabbed two glasses, setting one down in front of Ginny. "You are a lot of things, Weasley, but oblivious isn't one of them."

"Too bad I can't say the same for you." She snickered at his dry look, sipping her fresh drink.

Just then, a tall, dark gentleman walked up beside her. "Ciao, bella signora. Voi gradice ballare?"

Ginny's eyes almost popped out of her scull in panic, and she felt her cheeks start to burn. "Mi sc-scuse ma—"

"La signora non può dire una parola di Italiano," Draco said to the man in perfect Italian.

Immediately, the stranger left, and Ginny narrowed her eyes on the blond. "Excuse me, Malfoy, but I am perfectly capable of speaking for myself."

"With that Italian? Not likely."

Ginny scowled as she watched Draco lean back in his chair, closing his eyes and taking in a breath. She found herself doing the same, listening to the music take on a deep, thrumming tempo. After a moment, she heard his chair scrape back, and she opened her eyes, seeing his hand outstretched.

"Care to dance?"

"Why, Mr Malfoy," Ginny began in proper tone, "I'm sure there are a handful of other ladies dying for you to ask that."

"I'm sure there are," he agreed smugly, "though most of them wouldn't understand me if I did."

She rolled her eyes and, after a protracted pause, took his hand. "Fine – but only because I'm sick of turning men down in bad Italian."

-x-

30 May 2003

Ginny knew that she really shouldn't have been having any more to drink, but she pushed her five Knuts towards the bartender anyway and picked up the Firewhisky.

It was rather empty in the bar, but the music blared away regardless of its lack of clientèle. A boy who looked barely of age gave her a flirtatious wink, and she briefly considered dancing with him, but alcohol was much more appealing.

Ginny had to admit that she was feeling rather sorry for herself as of late. She was in a relationship with Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake. Women all over the world would kill to be her, yet here she was – morose and well on her way to becoming blind drunk – all alone in a dingy pub.

She could feel hot breath on the back of her neck, and she wondered for a moment whether or not it was the boy who had been making googly eyes at her. She decided that if he asked, she would dance. It wasn't as if her boyfriend would ever know, or care.

"Fancy meeting you here," the voice drawled in her ear.

Ginny jumped in her seat, a dizzying feeling of déjà vu sweeping over her as she turned to see Draco Malfoy leaning over her.

"I suppose I shouldn't really be all that surprised," he said, smirking. "It does seem like your idea of entertainment."

Ginny knew she was drunk, but she wasn't that drunk that she had imagined the blond whispering in her ear – was she? Trying desperately to school her expression and shoot him a rather unconvincing sneer, Ginny sat up straight in her seat.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded with an appropriate amount of disdain – déjà vu again. "Don't you have better things to do with your time – officials to bribe, or whatever it is Malfoys enjoy doing?"

He just smirked at her. She ought to have been annoyed, but she couldn't muster the emotion. Instead, she felt her lips twitch upward.

"Want to dance?" she asked.

She had no idea what had possessed her to ask the question (probably the alcohol), but she found herself amused at Draco's nonplussed expression. To her surprise, though, he hesitantly agreed, and his puzzlement quickly gave way to amusement once she stumbled over her own feet. She glared at him, angered by his hand on her arm, which was meant to steady her.

The music was more her mother's style than hers, but she didn't really care. She felt strangely comfortable around Draco, despite the fact they could never resist sniping at each other, and she even found herself giggling as he twirled and dipped her. Everyone at the bar was watching them, eyes wide and curious. She supposed that they must make quite the sight, ballroom dancing under the flashing light created by the orbs floating above them.

"What's so funny?" he asked, smiling slightly.

"Nothing, I'm just having fun."

He spun her again, and this time he was laughing too.

-x-

25 July 2003

The wind whistled and shrieked in her Ginny's ears as she flew across the pitch, searching for the elusive Snitch. The crowd's roaring was steadily rising – the Canons were especially fierce tonight and the Harpies were down one-hundred points. If she didn't find and catch that damned Snitch soon, the Harpies would be out for the season.

Ginny briefly scanned the crowd in the stands, looking for some kind of support to steel her resolve. And just like every other game she'd played this season, she was left disappointed. Despite the hundreds of fans screaming for her, there wasn't a single familiar face there – at least, not one that she cared to see. Her heart plummeted to her stomach. How could he not be there? He knew how important this match was to her.

Then again, that was how it always went. Ginny planned her whole life around Harry. It was her own fault if one of the most monumental Quidditch matches of her rookie career fell on a day in which he was particularly swamped at work. No doubt there would be an owl waiting in the changing room with a letter offering his excuses.

Letting out a moan of pain and frustration, she stretched out her cramped legs on her broom, trying to relieve the stiffness in her joints and put her mind at ease. How lucky she was – hundreds of fans had come to scream her name and support her.

Seeing her Keeper block another goal, Ginny took one long last look at the crowd. It was then, when she prepared to kick off, that she saw him: granite eyes and platinum blond hair. He was wearing his normal business robes and was seated while the rest of the crowd were on their feet. But he was staring at her, barely cracking a grin – everyone else faded away into the background until there was only him and her.

Somehow, the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting in the stands amongst a screaming mob of plebeian Quidditch fans made Ginny smile, and she thought, despite her dire mood, that maybe miracles really could happen.

-x-

3 September 2003

Draco sighed as he examined the diamond ring.

"You know, I really don't think that one would suit you," an amused voice observed from behind.

He swung around and saw Ginny Weasley. "Oh, it's you."

"You don't have to sound so dismayed." She gestured to the jewellery box in his hand. "What's with the ring?"

"It's not for me; it's for Astoria. I'm going to ask her to marry me."

"Not with that magpie trap, I hope."

"What's wrong with this?" Draco demanded.

"It's hideous. She'll have trouble even lifting her hand with that giant rock stuck on her finger."

"Isn't that what women like?"

"Only the magpies, but go ahead if that's what you think. Just don't blame me when everyone assumes Astoria only married you for your money."

Draco stared at her for a moment, his jaw tightening, and then he placed the box on the counter. "Fine, Weasley," he said, folding his arms, "since you think you're the expert, why don't you tell me what ring you think I should buy."

"Well, for starters, you might want to consider buying something that isn't going to make her hand fall off." Ginny dragged him over to the glass case on the other side of the shop. "What about these?"

Draco glanced at the smaller stoned rings. "They're a bit cheap-looking."

"You're right," she admitted, "these ones aren't very nice, but they're at least more elegant than that monstrous creation you were looking at."

"Oh, thanks."

She frowned for a moment, tapping a finger to her cheek. "Alright, I think I know where we can find something for your darling Astoria."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm going to help you find a ring, stupid," she retorted, latching onto his arm.

"Wait a minute," Draco exclaimed. "Why exactly am I listening to you?"

"Because you have terrible taste in jewellery, and I am offering to take time out of my busy schedule to help you."

"Yes, that's what puzzles me. Why are you helping me?"

Ginny shrugged. "Call it my charitable deed for the day. Now are we going to find a ring for your precious girlfriend or not?"

Draco sighed. "Fine, show me these rings of yours."

She beamed and then dragged him off to look at more jewellery shops. Draco was surprised to find that he actually began to enjoy himself, though he could have passed on every shopkeeper thinking he and Ginny were a couple. One woman even claimed to know they would have a happy marriage, for they were positively blooming with love.

It was therefore a relief when they finally agreed upon a ring and left the shop. Draco was not so pleased, however, when Ginny said she had to go. It was strange, but he felt like they'd somehow become friends.

"Well, good luck, Malfoy."

He took a step towards her. "Wait."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Ginny grinned and then Disapparated with a small pop. Draco stared at the space where she had stood, a slight smile touching his lips.

-x-

15 September 2003

The vestiges of summer had begun to fade, and Ginny found herself at the old playground of her youth. Opening the rusted iron gates, she saw a familiar thatch of white-blond hair. And despite knowing who was sitting on her swing, Ginny found herself smiling.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, taking the swing next to him.

"I could ask you the same," he retorted, glancing up at her with dark grey eyes. "I was just in the mood for swinging."

"Me too," she said, slowly pushing back and pumping her legs into the air. "So how'd the proposal go?"

Following suit, Draco began to swing. "Well, she said yes, so I've only got the chain, not the ball."

Ginny let out a short laugh, letting her head fall back. "That's an interesting way to look at it."

"Don't get me wrong," Draco corrected, increasing his pace. "Astoria's very beautiful, but I'm not sure if I'm cut out for this marriage business."

"Then why get married?"

"It's what's expected," Draco answered tersely, turning to meet her wide, brown eyes. "You should know."

Ginny furrowed her brow.

"You and Potter," he clarified. "Has Boy Wonder popped the question yet?"

Ginny grinned despite herself, and shook her head. "No, we've decided to live in sin for a while."

Draco nodded. "I would have taken that route if I was certain my mother wouldn't disown me."

Giggling, Ginny slowed her pace. "You know, I used to come here a lot when I was a kid," she said absently, glancing around the playground. "There was one particular boy, though, who would always go out of his way to pick on me."

"Shameless," Draco commented, shaking his head. "Sounds like quite the brat."

When Ginny stared at him agape, Draco ceased his swinging and looked pointedly at the redhead.

"Don't gawk, Weasley," he chastised. "It's unattractive."

"Why—"

"I remember you," he admitted, a cheeky grin lighting up his face. "With your pigtails and your dirty face—"

"Dirty?"

"Well, it's not so dirty any more," he stated, glancing at her pale, freckled face.

"Thanks," she said dryly, casting Draco a dirty look, which made him laugh.

"So, this is where it all began," he said after a moment's pause, motioning to their surroundings. "The beginnings of our see-sawing roundabout friendship."

"Friendship?" Ginny baulked, although her tone was more playful than affronted. "I'm not exactly sure what your definition of a friend is, Malfoy, but—"

"A friend," Draco interrupted, "is someone you feel comfortable with, someone you can always talk to about anything, and nothing. She'll even help you pick out a ring in a shop when you're looking like a clueless idiot."

"And she'll give you her swing when you're being a brat about it," Ginny added with a grin.

"Yeah, she'll do that too," Draco agreed. "And though she won't overlook your mistakes or forget to remind you about them, she'll forgive you anyway."

"Maybe," Ginny admitted, unable to prevent the blush from rising to her cheeks.

The two sat on the swings in silence, failing to look at the other.

"You know, you never did say please that day," Ginny said softly, turning her head to glance at him.

"No?"

"No."

"Well, you were a stupid ginger back then," Draco stated, deadpan.

Without warning, Ginny stood up and pushed Draco off his swing.

"I'm telling!" she said coquettishly over her shoulder as she began to run.

"No you're not!" Draco cried, jumping up to chase after the redhead. "Get back here!"

Laughter echoed off the trees, carrying for miles, as a grinning blond-haired man chased after a giggling red-haired woman. All around the playground, they ran: through the swings, down the slide, and across the see-saw.

Laughter had returned, and maybe – maybe so had the peace.

–The End–

DG Forum Notes: The above story is a collection of drabbles that was written as a round robin collaboration on The DG Forum.

Enduring was written by the Bombastic Bohemian Round Robin team: Boogum, Ha'niqua, Incognito, LionessAmaya, and Mystical Starlit.

Thank you for reading and reviewing.