This story was written for MyLadyElise for The DG Forum's Fic Exchange - Winter 2016. It won the awards for Best Dialogue, Best Banter, and Most Humorous. Thanks to everyone who supported my fic. :)

The muffin looked very tempting. It had big chunks of blueberries and chocolate, and it was sure to sit wonderfully in Ginny's stomach. The problem was that it cost six Sickles and seventeen Knuts. That was nearly all the coins she had in her purse. Plus, what she really needed right now was coffee. Her brow furrowed as she tried to calculate how much money was left in her account, just in case she could withdraw some Sickles to help tide her over until her next pay check. There had been the toothpaste she'd had to buy on the way home from work yesterday, the overdue rent bill that she'd forgotten all about, and then there was—

"Oh, who am I kidding?" Ginny muttered, sitting down at the counter table and staring morosely through the glass where all the pastries and muffins were displayed.

She was as broke as a house elf. Her life was a never-ending crossroad of "to be pragmatic" or "to be impulsive and later starve". There was no in between. She could either have the muffin and all its bundle of deliciousness or she could do the responsible, adult thing and wait to buy a loaf of bread, which would cost less and last for a week instead of one minute. Gods, Ginny hated doing the responsible, adult thing. She just wanted to eat something tasty and chocolatey and not—not—a bland, boring sandwich. She was sick of sandwiches. And cereal. And pretty much everything that came cheap and lasted more than one meal.

"I should have been born rich," Ginny mused, resting her chin on her hand. "All of my problems would be solved then."

The man behind the counter shot her a frowny glance. Something about her demeanour must have pinged on his "This Customer is Potentially Crazy and Probably Wasting My Time" radar, because the smile faded from his eyes and he leaned his elbow on the counter in a business-like manner. "You gonna buy anything, Miss?" he asked.

Ginny sighed and sent a silent farewell to the muffin that had caught her fancy. "Just a regular coffee, thanks."

She pushed a few coins towards him, even as she ignored the screams of her inner pragmatist that swelled up in full Greek Chorus to tell her to just drink water ("WATER IS FREE, GINNY! FREEEEE! THINK OF ALL THE CRACKERS YOU CAN BUY WITH THAT MONEY!"). Stupid inner pragmatist. It never let her enjoy anything. Not even a much-needed cup of coffee at 6:00am in the morning.

"And I don't even like crackers," she muttered.

Counter Man gave her another frowny glance. He placed the cup of coffee in front of her much as one would a slab of meat in front of a ravenous dragon. Not that Ginny noticed. She was too busy lamenting her impoverished situation and inhaling all the scents of food that she could not afford, as if by sniffing she might get a taste. It was sad and pathetic, but then she had become rather sad and pathetic. Her dream to be a famous Quidditch player had never come to fruition. She'd attended try outs for several teams, but no one seemed to want to recruit her.

"You're good," they'd say. "Really good."

But she'd still hear their unspoken words. She just wasn't good enough.

Sometimes, Ginny wondered what would have happened if she had stuck with Harry. Everyone had wanted to know her when she was "Potter's Girl". The tabloids had been all up in her business, determined to discover everything about her and her relationship with the Saviour of the Wizarding World. But then she and Harry had broken up, and it was as if a light had switched off. Harry had continued to take the foreground, moving in the limelight that society freely offered him, while she had been left to fade into the background.

Potter's Girl might have got accepted into a national Quidditch team for the sake of increasing publicity, but plain old Ginny Weasley was a different story. As one reporter had hinted, Ginny was not prone to scandals, could not be considered an important war hero since she had been just one of many students attending Hogwarts the night You Know Who was defeated, and she wasn't even that pretty. In short, Ginny Weasley was unforgivably ordinary.

And now she worked at Jolly Witch Cleaners.

Ginny tugged distastefully at her bright orange work uniform. It clashed with her hair and stunk forever of cleaning potions, but it was a job. If there was one thing Ginny did pride herself on, it was her independence. Put simply, she hated to have her life dictated by other people. She didn't want to be babied, and she didn't want to rely on others. In her heart, there was a witch who wanted to prove to the world that she wasn't weak: that she didn't need others to hold her hand just because she was female, the youngest of her family, or had been possessed by an evil wizard as a child. She would be just fine on her own, thank you very much.

So, two years after she had finished school, Ginny had packed her bags and moved out of home. Her family had resisted the decision at first. Molly had been particularly vocal in her disapproval, but eventually the Weasley matriarch had realised that Ginny was not going to back down. Some things just had to be done. Granted, living pay check to pay check and being threatened by the landlady every odd week wasn't the best situation (it was pretty stressful, to be honest), but Ginny was optimistic that it would all work out in the end. Constant perseverance and all that. She'd get her big break, and then she could eat all the tasty muffins that she wanted.

A pleased smile curved her lips as she imagined herself as an internationally famous Quidditch player. Her fantasies usually featured her as the star Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies (her favourite team). Of course, the crowd would be wowed by her general amazingness and superb flying as well. Fantasy Ginny was pretty damn fantastic, if she did say so herself. That girl broke a whole tonne of records.

Ginny's smile widened. She took of a sip of her coffee, forgetting all about her food lamentations as she got lost in her dreams for the future. As she lowered her cup, one of the customers bumped into her arm. Coffee spilt from the jolt and splattered on her uniform and the newspaper that had been resting on the counter near her elbow. Her eyes widened in shock.

"I'm sorry!" the customer exclaimed, reaching for a napkin to clean the mess. He looked about sixteen and had a bad case of acne. He was also very flustered.

Ginny repressed a sigh. What a way to be awakened back to reality. "Don't worry about it," she said, forcing a smile. "I got it."

A flick of her wand and the spilt coffee was gone. The boy apologised again, but she just waved him off and repeated that it was nothing. Really. She would manage just fine. Smiling sheepishly, the boy continued to the counter and ordered a drink and some food. Ginny noticed that he could afford one of the tasty muffins. Stupid, pimply faced oaf.

Don't be mean, Ginny, she inwardly scolded.

The boy might be a clumsy idiot and had ruined her coffee ("Think of the crackers you could have bought with those Sickles and Knuts!"); he might even have the gall to eat delicious-looking muffins in front of her, but that did not mean she should take her frustration out on him or make fun of his acne, however privately. Ginny was better than that. Or so she told herself.

A sigh escaped her lips. She glanced at her cup, which was practically empty from the spill. That was when she noticed the headline on the paper.

"Malfoys Pay Millions to Find Cure," Ginny mumbled.

She frowned and scanned the article. Her eyes widened the more she read. It seemed that Draco Malfoy had been cursed with one of the most ancient (and very, very forbidden) spells in all of Wizarding history: the Hundred Year Sleeping curse. A spurned lover (name suppressed) had crashed his engagement party and cast the curse to get revenge. Malfoy had instantly fallen asleep and had not woken since. His very distraught fiancée, Astoria Greengrass, and the Malfoys had been doing everything in their power to remedy the situation, but without any luck. The spurned lover remained in custody and was on trial, yadda, yadda—

Ginny skipped the rest and instead spread the paper to stare at the picture beside the article. It was a black and white photo of Draco Malfoy asleep in what looked like some kind of fancy hospital room. Healers moved around him, glancing at charts or checking his condition. Malfoy himself was still, like a doll frozen in time. It was unnerving. He should be scowling or smirking or at least doing something. He was not supposed to be emotionless like that, and the way they had styled his blond hair was stupid as well. One of those pompous comb overs.

Actually, maybe it did suit him. He'd always been a bit of an arse.

Ginny's mouth twitched into a grin, but she sobered a second later. Much as she disliked Malfoy, it was difficult not to feel pity for him. They hadn't had much to do with each other after the war, but she'd heard that he'd turned over a new leaf and had been doing quite well for himself. He'd even got engaged to Astoria Greengrass, that nice Slytherin girl who had once helped Ginny find Neville's toad.

"Poor girl," Ginny murmured.

It must have been a shock for Astoria to lose her fiancé like that after they had just got engaged. From the looks of things, it didn't seem like Malfoy was going to wake up any time soon either.

Ginny stretched her arms and, as was typical for the uninvolved, shrugged off the matter as just another sad news article. Malfoy's condition had nothing to do with her. She wasn't about to spend the rest of her day brooding over it. Instead, she drank what was left of her coffee and headed for her next job. One hour later of scrubbing, wand-waving, and an almost-tragedy when she knocked over some potions and created a mini mushroom of toxic fumes, Ginny was at last able to celebrate her freedom.

"Thank Merlin," she breathed, rolling her shoulders to ease the aches in her muscles.

Magic made cleaning a lot easier, but there were some things that still required manual labour. After all, that's what places like Jolly Witch Cleaners had been created for: all the jobs magic folk had to do but refused if given the choice. That, and the fact that house elf protection groups (led by one Hermione Granger) were making it rather difficult for the rich and lazy to use servants who required no pay.

Ginny smothered a yawn and made her way towards the Disapparation point. She was just about to raise her wand when a hand clamped down on her shoulder.

"Ginevra Weas—"

"Kyah!" Ginny lashed out at the person with her fist, forgetting all about her wand as primal instinct took over. "Let go!"

The man groaned and placed a hand to his nose, which was spurting blood everywhere. Unfortunately, even a punch to the nose wasn't enough to make him loosen his grip.

"Please," he said in a thick voice (it came out more like "pweeb"), "you've got the wrong idea. Just let me explain."

Ginny pursed her lips and stared at him through narrowed eyes. He was a large man with sandy hair and a pleasant enough face (once you got past the blood). He didn't seem overly scary, but looks could be deceiving, and there was a fact that he was still gripping her shoulder so that she could not vanish without him.

"Let me go," she repeated.

"Do you promise to listen to what I have to say?" he asked.

Ginny's teeth flashed in a smile. "Sure."

The man released his grip and stepped back to give her some space. Ginny's grin widened.

"Stupefy!" she bellowed.

The red light burst from her wand and hit the man square in the forehead. He keeled over like a log, landing spread-eagle on the ground. There was no further movement. Ginny cackled and did a little fist pump.

"I can't believe you fell for that," she said. "As if I was ever going to listen to a creeper like you."

The man, quite naturally, had no response. Ginny waved at him in a smug goodbye and then vanished with a pop. She had originally intended to head straight home for a nap, but the need to share the story of Mr Creeper had her appearing outside her brothers' joke shop instead. It was only as she was talking to Fred and George that she realised she probably should have alerted the authorities so the Aurors could collect the man.

"Wait, so you just left him—" Fred began.

"Even though he knew your name and had obviously come to find you?" George finished for his twin.

Ginny chewed on her bottom lip. She and her brothers had gathered in the back room of the shop and were sitting on the crates that had been piled up against the wall. "Uh, yeah," she said, hanging her head.

Fred and George heaved an identical sigh. "Ginny," they said in unison, placing a hand on each of her shoulders, "you're an idiot."

Ginny moaned in agreement and covered her face with her hands. "What am I going to do?"

George rubbed his chin. "How long has it been since you left him on the street?"

"I dunno," she admitted, raising her head. "A few minutes, I guess."

"The spell has probably worn off then," Fred said, dismissing the option of going back to investigate the spot.

George made a humming sound at the back of his throat. "Well, I guess you'll just have to talk to the Aurors and inform them of the situation. No harm done. The important thing is that you're safe." He rubbed her head. "Good going, Ginbug."

Ginny scowled and tried to smooth the bird nest he had created with her hair. "Can you not treat me like I'm five," she complained.

Her brothers just grinned and continued to mock her in their tag-teaming way. Eventually, Ginny had enough and stuffed Canary Creams down both their throats. There was a pause, two squawks, and then man-sized canaries suddenly appeared where her brothers had been sitting.

"That'll teach you," Ginny said smugly.

She sashayed out of the back room and headed for the shop's exit, leaving the feathered twins to squawk expletives at her. The door opened before she could reach for the handle. Ginny's eyes bugged as she found herself staring at the sandy-haired gentleman from earlier. There were tissues stuffed up his nose and traces of blood on his face and robe.

"You!" Ginny cried, pointing her finger at him.

Mr Creeper held his hands up in an appeasing gesture. "Miss Weasley, please just listen. I don't mean you any harm."

Ginny raised her eyebrow. She was tempted to just hex him again and be done with it (only this time actually alert the Aurors), but curiosity got the better of her. Twice now the man had sought her out (even if it was in a stalkerish fashion). It was also true that he hadn't tried to hurt her on either occasion, only requested that she listen to what he had to say. She supposed it couldn't hurt to give him a minute of her time.

"Fine," Ginny said, folding her arms across her chest. "Explain."

The man opened his mouth to respond, only to freeze as two giant canaries walked out from the storage room and took up a flanking position behind Ginny. "Uh," he said, blinking a few times. It didn't help that the canaries were giving him menacing looks.

Ginny waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Don't mind them. They're just my brothers."

"R-right," the man said, eyeing the canaries in wonder. He turned back to Ginny, clearing his throat as he pulled himself together. "First, I want to apologise for earlier. I didn't mean to frighten you."

Her expression soured and she tapped her foot on the ground. "Get to the point."

"Very well," the man said. He fished around in his robe pocket and pulled out a card that certified him as a private detective. "Henry Larkins is my name. You may have heard about the Malfoy case?"

She furrowed her brow. "The Hundred Year Sleeping curse one, right?"

He nodded. "My client has been very anxious to find a cure. Our research has shown us that you might be able to help with that."

Ginny's jaw dropped. "W-what?"

"More specifically," the detective continued, "we believe you have the ability to wake Draco Malfoy from this curse."

Her eyes bugged open even wider. She made a few spluttering sounds and told him that he was being ridiculous, among other such sentiments. There was no way that she could break an ancient curse like that.

Detective Larkins slipped his card back in his pocket. "I understand this is a lot to take in, but it will all make sense once you meet with my client. I'm afraid, due to confidentiality, I can't disclose more than that for now." His gaze locked with hers. "So, will you do it?"

Ginny didn't get a chance to respond. There were two squawks and then her brothers shed their canary feathers and were human once more. In one fluid motion, they had their arms around Ginny's shoulders and were grinning up at the detective.

"Is there payment involved?" Fred and George asked in unison.

Detective Larkins nodded. "I believe my client is willing to offer a large sum of money in return for Miss Weasley's help."

The twins' smiles widened like the Cheshire Cat. "She'll do it."

Elise's Prompt (2)

Basic Premise: D/G re-imaging of Sleeping Beauty. One of them falls under a magic spell and can only be awakened by true love's kiss (which of course is either Draco or Ginny).

Must-Haves: Fred is alive. Post-Hogwarts.

No-No's: too must angst, previous dg relationship, Trio bashing

Rating Range: any

Bonus Points: 1) Draco is the Sleeping Beauty; 2) Ron faints at an inopportune moment