Title: The Only Exception (2/2)
Author: Elle Blessingway (aka, elle_blessing at LiveJournal)
Rating: Any Age
Summary: What if Draco and Ginny had been friends before they knew they weren't supposed to be? What if they were each other's only exception to the rule? The far-reaching consequences of such fateful moments and choices would truly change everything expected of a Malfoy and a Weasley. Wouldn't it?
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is JKR's sandbox. I just like to build sand castles.
Author's Notes: This was written for the 2010 Draco/Ginny Fic Exchange over at LiveJournal's dgficexchange. It won an award for Best Kiss, and lost Best Fic Overall by one vote. It was also nominated for Best Angst, Best Portrayal of Draco Malfoy, Best Portrayal of Ginny Weasley, Favorite Line and Snarkiest Conversation. To everyone that nominated and voted for me, thank you SO much! *smooshes!*
Thanks: Profuse thanks go to all the women who helped me put this together; it took a team to make this happen. Thank you,mugglechump, for being such a great sounding board and holding my hand every step of the way. Thank you, fiery_flamingo, for your grammar picking and for telling me when something sucked and needed to be fixed. And as always, thanks go to amazonmink and silvestardance, both of who check everything I write before it sees the light of day.

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September 1996 - June 1997
Draco Malfoy - Age 16 | Ginny Weasley - Age 15

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Mercury eyes watched the scenery pass by in a blur outside the train's windows. The Hogwarts Express was exactly the same as it'd always been, but somehow completely different. Insignificant now, compared to how grand he'd once thought it as a boy.

Draco's mouth turned down when he caught his compartment's thread of conversation again. Slughorn.

"Potter and Weasley were invited as well, the girl one," Daphne volunteered.

"Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at 'the Chosen One'," sneered Draco, "but that Weasley girl... what's so bloody special about her?" It's what he was supposed to say and just that moment it felt good to smear her name. It was easier to think of all the reasons why he shouldn't be thinking of her than all the reasons why it was impossible not to.

"A lot of boys like her," said Pansy, watching Draco out of the corner of her eyes for his reaction. "Even you think she's good looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please."

"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like," he drawled lazily, flicking at an invisible bit of lint on his perfectly tailored robes.

Draco's gaze shot to Blaise and he fought not to let his reactions show. She was a blood traitor. He'd called her filthy in this group more than once, but he didn't like hearing it from Blaise of all people - Blaise who'd commented more than once on how fit Ginny was.

Ginny was nothing to him now. She couldn't be. They'd chosen their sides and he had a mission to accomplish. He would be the best of them all - his family would be the best again.

"Filthy," he agreed, letting is lids close moments later as Pansy began to pet his hair again.

oOo

She shouldn't have lingered. She should have just kept on walking.

But Ginny knew that Draco always sat in the same rail car, and she could remember all the years past when they'd sneak about the train for the sport of seeing if they could have a laugh together without getting caught in such a confined area.

He didn't look much like he was inclined for any such sport. Neither was she, to be honest, but after going all summer without hearing from him, she was beginning to wonder what she'd done wrong. Besides snog him and then nearly hex his bollocks off.

Or perhaps he'd just moved on. If the fact that he was laying all over Pansy and letting the bloody bint play with his hair was anything to go by, it hadn't been difficult to do.

She knew she was scowling because a firstie had squeaked when she stalked by, and she could feel the heat of her anger - the hurt - high in her cheeks.

It was best this way. It was. She had made her decision and he had made his. So many of their classmates didn't get it, didn't understand. But she knew he'd entertained Death Eaters and he couldn't be ignorant that her family was embroiled with the Order. It was always going to come to this.

He couldn't matter anymore. He could be nothing to her. He wouldn't.

oOo

As he strode through The Room of Hidden Things, Draco had a passing thought, not for the first time, that Ginny would love the place. Junk littered every bit of space, but she wouldn't see junk. She would see adventures, a story in every ridiculous knick-knack. She would have spun a tale for every piece.

He missed her.

There were more important things than a childhood friendship that should have never been though, and Draco's brow furrowed as he approached the Vanishing Cabinet. When he pulled the door open, an angry oath echoed through the cavernous room. There was a cage, but only a charred skeleton inhabited it.

He had to figure this damn thing out. Everything depended on it.

oOo

He didn't look at her. Didn't even meet her eyes.

Dean did though. Dean met her eyes, held her close, kissed her deeply. He said he wanted to date, even, have her be his girl.

It's not how it was supposed to be, but then, nothing was as it should be anymore.

"Ginny?"

"Yeah," she said, forcing the smile into her eyes. Maybe she would believe it too. "Yeah, let's do it. Let's be an 'us', huh?"

Dean's smile went crooked. "Us."

oOo

Malfoy's didn't cry.

Draco did though, and it was a humbling thing, a terribly wretched, horrible and hopeless thing.

He was going to die. Voldemort was going to kill his mother. He would leave his father to rot in Azkaban, or worse, put a Dementor to him - suck out his soul.

It should have been his glory. It should have restored their name.

All he had to do was kill Dumbledore. All he had to do was make the bloody cabinet work.

And all he was good for was wasting away in the girl's loo. Useless.

He was going to die and his failure was going to be the death of his family.

oOo

His hand hurt. Everything hurt, really, but it was the pressure on his hand that made him open his eyes.

"Draco?" Her voice was breathless, raspy. As if she'd been crying.

"Ginny?" He tried to move and stopped. Perhaps waking up had been a bad idea. Everything really did hurt - because of damn Potter, his weary mind supplied.

He sighed, too tired to be angry at the scarhead. It didn't matter anymore. Only one thing mattered. "Go away, Ginny."

"Draco, you can't -" She squeezed his hand harder, not quite aware that she was holding onto him with the same desperate edge that had driven her from Gryffindor Tower to the Hospital Wing when she'd heard what had happened. "You can't honestly want ... this anymore? Draco, you could come with me. I could vouch for you. Can't you see... Draco-"

Ginny's breath caught then, tears in the back of her throat. Couldn't he see that he was wasting away? That choosing what he had was wrong, that it was going to kill him? That's all Tom was. Death.

"Draco, come with me," she whispered as she pressed her cheek to his hand, tears escaping. She didn't care. She didn't care that he made her cry anymore. He was slowly losing himself and she cried for him because she did care. What she'd said to Hermione, that Harry had been justified, didn't matter - those were just words, but this, this was real. "Come with me."

It was, perhaps, the most enticing thing he'd ever heard. It also made it absolutely dangerous. He couldn't go with her. He couldn't leave his mother. He couldn't leave his father to Voldemort. He had to finish his mission.

"Go away, Ginny." He turned his face away from her and it pulled at newly healed skin - hurt - but it was nothing to the hollow emptiness echoing through him. He wanted what she offered, he wanted her, more than she would ever know. And she never would know.

"Draco-"

"No," he said, cutting her off. "It's the way it is. I don't want to come with you." Lie. "I can't." Truth. "I don't want you." The lie that would keep her safe.

oOo

She let him hold her hand. She let him snog her. She let Harry touch her and help her forget. Help her forget Tom and his whispers on the wind, forget Draco and his choices. Choices that were everything but her.

Though, Harry was frighteningly similar. His choices had always been everything but her. It had even slipped his mind he wasn't the only one Tom had possessed. He was self-centered and self-involved.

And yet Ginny didn't care. She would always come behind Ron and Hermione, but he was there. He at least had chosen to be with her, wanted to.

It was how it was supposed to be. Everyone said as much. Ron was terribly pleased, as was her Mum.

She had more of Fred and George in her than any of them had ever truly realized though. She had never been about pleasing them, not since she'd met a surly blond boy at Flourish & Blotts.

But Harry didn't mind that she was a ghost and she didn't mind that he was one as well. It was yet another thing they could understand about each other. The kisses were just to remind one another that they were supposed to be alive still, and that it wasn't over. That it had only just begun.

oOo

Dumbledore was dead.

She couldn't believe it. It couldn't be true, and yet it was a mantra in her head - Dumbledore dead, Dumbledore dead - timed with her breathing as she raced through the castle. Students were swarming, screaming, crying, confused.

He couldn't be dead. She wouldn't believe it until she saw. He couldn't be. What would they do? Harry ... Harry wasn't ready.

But then all thoughts left her as she met a too-familiar mercury gaze. Draco. Draco who was running in the opposite direction of everyone else. Draco who was being pulled along by Snape. Draco ... her eyes widened. Draco who had finally succeeded in getting what he'd chosen over her.

Dumbledore wad dead. Truly.

The bright light of the curses made her start though, made the students scream.

Death Eaters.

Tearing her eyes away from his, she pulled her wand and ran.

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May 2, 1998, 8:22 P.M.
Draco Malfoy - Age 17 | Ginny Weasley - Age 16

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His breath was short as he raced through the castle, senses on high alert for any other bodies. All would think him a target, Auror, Death Eater and Order alike. He could nearly taste his death on his tongue. Perhaps because he'd already come so near it twice this night.

It was an odd time to be reminiscing, to be thinking back on the first time he'd looked at Ginny and wanted her for more than what they'd always been. He recalled it being a singularly odd experience. Prior to that moment, Ginny had been a lark. She'd been a secret friend, something to keep from his parents and housemates, someone who managed to piss him off and make him laugh all at once.

She'd been his.

He should already be dead, was burned and bruised, and yet as he slipped through the passages of Hogwarts towards the Great Hall and the roar of fighting there, Draco couldn't stop his mind from turning back to that day.

It'd been spring and it'd been sunny. It wasn't so much that he remembered the weather, but that the light had filtered through Ginny's hair as she tipped her head back to laugh, and for a moment the ginger strands had lit like a kaleidoscope of color, all shades of auburn, red and gold. He remembered how his heart had sped. When she caught his gaze again, her brown eyes had been bright and full of mischief and he'd noticed for the first time that her lips were prettily pink, that he liked the curve of them when she smiled at him. It had made his skin warm and had chased his thoughts away.

oOo

"Draco?" Ginny's features turned doubtful as she snapped her fingers in his face. "Draco? Where you listening at all?"

He blinked, wondering why he'd never noticed the dusting of freckles on her nose, her shoulders too. They had to have been there all along. Things like that didn't just change, not without some kind of professional spell caster. Draco knew she couldn't afford such things and he could only reason that not only had the freckles always been there, but the full curve to her bottom lip had always been that way too. He tipped his head.

"Draco?" She didn't get it. They'd been laughing about the prank she'd pulled on Zacharias Smith, had been planning another, and then he'd just … She wasn't even sure. He was looking at her oddly. Intently. Differently than he usually did. "What's wrong? Do I have something on my face? In my teeth?" she asked, unsure why there was a flutter in her stomach.

"Hmm?" His gaze shifted to her eyes and he blinked at her again. "What? No… no, you're fine." He wasn't though. He'd just realized she was a girl and was unsure how that changed things.

Ginny eyed him a long moment before shaking her head. "I think the sun's gotten to you. All that paleness can't handle the light of day," she said, slipping her arm through his and tugging him away from the Shrieking Shack. "We'll be missed soon, and you should probably get back to the dungeons before you melt in the sunshine."

"Malfoy's don't melt," he said imperiously. "We glisten."

His lips twitched when she giggled softly, the only betrayal of his otherwise impervious façade. Perhaps things wouldn't change so much after all. She was a girl, but she was still Ginny, too.

oOo

There were many times after that day when he'd studied the interesting dusting of freckles framed where she unbuttoned her collar and left her tie loose, or admired the way her skirt swished as she walked. That had been back when making her laugh and working her up into an angry, beautiful fit, or both all at a time, had been some of his only concerns.

It seemed a lifetime ago.

The kiss that shouldn't have ever been their first, but was likely to be their only, had been the beginning and the end.

And yet as he stuttered backwards and ducked away when the corner ahead exploded, rock from the walls spraying from some blasting spell that had obviously missed its target, Draco found that it was not only urgency and a certain amount of hopelessness that weighted every footfall, but her. She was the pauper girl, hair the one color that was wrong, the one who had likely changed everything in a labyrinth of choices and consequences he couldn't begin to understand. he was certain of one thing, however. He knew that he was changed, different than his parents and society had intended him to be, and that it was because of her.

Because he loved her.

Because he loved her.

Draco came to a dead stop. He loved her. It'd taken two very near brushes with death, a fist to the face from her damn brother and the imminently real possibility that he wouldn't survive the night for him to realize it.

He raked his hand through his hair, fingers fisting in the blond strands as he bent his head. It was a bloody shite time to figure out he was in love. He should have been dead months ago. His family was in disgrace - he'd nearly been put down by someone who was supposed to be his ally for shite's sake. He couldn't afford to hope.

Swearing under his breath, Draco's fist tightened around his wand and he ran for the Great Hall. It's where the fighting was, and if the increasingly painful burn on his arm was any indication, it's where Voldemort was.

It's where Ginny would be.

Draco had seen more horrors in his short life than most people saw in a lifetime. He'd done things that plagued his dreams and the phantoms were never far, even when he was awake. He'd seen torture of all kinds, had used the Cruciatus Curse to pull piercing screams under Voldemort's watchful eye, and had witnessed things that should never be spoken of aloud.

And yet as he fought his way towards the Great Hall against Death Eater, Auror and Order alike, Draco knew that should he survive, the events of this night would haunt him forever.

Lavender Brown was a broken, bloody pile. Dead eyes stared at him from every direction. Screams of pain, torture and agony filled the air. Anger and desperation could almost be tasted, and the hopeless cries of those who knew they would die was a bone-chilling thing.

How he'd made it to the Great Hall he would never know. He was trusted by no one and everyone's enemy, his own light hair as much a beacon as any Weasley's.

It hadn't been difficult to find her. Ginny was life and energy, light. It'd been no wonder that she'd drawn the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange, his frighteningly sadistic aunt who stalked and hunted the interesting prey, the ones who would be missed most desperately when snuffed out.

"Ginny!"

She heard him. Him. Draco was alive, he was here, and he was coming for her. "Shite timing," she muttered even as she dodged left, drawing Bellatrix away from Luna. "Diffindo!"

He knew he shouldn't have yelled her name. She could get distracted and distraction here, fighting against his aunt, meant death. And yet as he raced towards her, flinging hexes and curses at anyone who pointed a wand at him, Draco wasn't sure that he could have stopped himself from calling out to her.

This was it. This was everything. This was the end, and if he was going to die, at least he would die finally doing the right thing; loving her.

He was too late though, and he yelled for his aunt to stop even as he watched her lips form the words. Avada Kedavra.

No. No no no, Ginny's mind ran in staccato as she moved back, away from the green light coming for her. Not now, not when they'd come so far, not when he was finally coming for her.

The world slowed. He could hear the rush of the spell and nothing else, saw Ginny's eyes widen, knew the part of her lips was an intake of breath, surprise and fear, saw her trip over a bit of debris as she stumbled back and the entirety of his being screamed as she began to fall.

NO!

And then the world came back in a rush of sound and explosions of light, spells temporarily blinding him before he was running again. She was alive; tripping over the debris had saved her by millimeters.

Another ginger woman was there then, this one rounder and older, but Draco recognized the fierce look in her features and knew her to be Ginny's mother.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Molly Weasley had killed his Aunt Bellatrix and Draco watched Ginny's eyes widen, her face go pale, and not moments later he realized why. Voldemort was advancing on her mother. His mark flared painfully and he stumbled, luckily missing a hex from behind, the red light passing over his shoulder. He glanced back, but there were too many to find the source of his attacker and he turned around only to find the impossible to be true.

Harry Potter was alive yet and he was facing Voldemort, wand drawn.

He wasn't the only one to still in shock; he felt the room quiet but for the moans of the dying and injured. It could have been minutes or hours that they circled each other there in the middle of the Great Hall. He only knew that he held his breath with the rest of the wizarding world to see who would be the face of their future.

How it had all truly happened, Draco would never be able to say. All that mattered was the Voldemort died that day. But even that wasn't as important as the reason he had come to this place, and as he stirred into motion again, Draco's gray gaze darted quickly over the gathering crowd of jubilant celebrants looking for a mane of ginger hair.

He'd been looking in the wrong places and a moment's resigned reflection told him he should have known all along. Of course she would be in Harry's arms, hugging him fiercely, nothing but tears and smiles.

He didn't belong here. He didn't belong with Ginny and never truly had. They should have never been friends in the first place, secret or not. He should have never had opportunity to notice the freckles dusting her shoulders, the constellation of them on the swell of her chest, or the way her cheek began to dimple when she laughed.

Fate had been fickle with them, though, and he did know those things, had had the opportunities, and it stung to see the reality of what had always been intended. Not him, not them, but her and the bloody Boy Who Lived.

His father had always said that Malfoy's and Weasley's did not belong. It seemed that even despite the chances of disproving what the world thought possible, everything would be as it 'should' be in the end.

She was alive though, and that was all that mattered, had always been what mattered first.

Breath leaving him, his shoulders relaxed into something like defeat and he turned. He didn't belong here and she was safe; it was time for him to go, to find his parents and to prepare for the very real possibility that he would be going to Azkaban.

Hugs with Harry, Luna, Hermione and Neville had been shared, but she had heard him. She'd heard Draco's voice, and as she pushed through the crowds, her eyes scanned about for the white blond hair that only Draco had.

And then she saw him walking away. "Draco!" He didn't turn back. He must not have been able to hear her over all the cheering and yelling, and Ginny only pushed harder, shouldered her way through the next crush of people separating them. "Draco!"

A part of her knew that she shouldn't be running towards him; theirs had always been a secret friendship, something it hadn't ever been alright for anyone to know. He was a Malfoy and she was a Weasley. He was a Death Eater and she was part of Dumbledore's Army. No one would have ever understood, and had anyone known, they would have been torn apart earlier than life and circumstance had seen fit. She would have never known that he had a sense of humor or a generous heart, nor would she have come to love the way his hair looked when he forgot himself and ran his hand through it. She would have never known the depth of loyalty that ran through him, or even the endurance to see his choices through to the end.

Stubbornness, mostly, but she knew now what she hadn't known before; he'd chosen his family, their lives, over his own. He'd left her and had done what he'd done to save them. She'd had a lot of time to think about it, about him and why he'd left her and with hindsight and time, she'd come to see things differently. He'd lied to her that last night in the Hospital Wing. He hadn't met her eyes when he'd said he didn't want to come with her and that he didn't want to be with her. She should have known then – she'd always been able to read him – but she'd missed it; too scared, too upset, too young to read between the lines.

But she knew now and he had come for her when it counted, and in the end, it was all that really mattered. What people thought, what their families thought, what sides they'd chosen – none of it bloody mattered. They'd made it.

"Draco," she said again, breathless as she neared him. He must have heard her because he began to turn around, but she didn't slow or stop or wait to see his face. She ran into him, wrapped around him and made him stumble back with her momentum.

Whatever he'd expected upon hearing his name on her lips, this wasn't it. He didn't deserve this, but it didn't stop him from wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her hair and holding on as if she was the only solid thing left in his world. Maybe she was. Maybe her warmth and the unacknowledged hope of this, her body pressed to his, her scent filling his lungs, the whispers of his name as she began to cry, was the only thing that had ever truly kept him moving forward.

"Ginny." Malfoy's didn't cry. But Draco had never lived up to his name despite his efforts and as she shook against him, he was both horrified and more relieved than he could really understand that his body was shaking with a fine tremor. It was a release he'd been waiting for, and she was the only place that was truly safe. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, shifting to speak against her ear. "I wanted to, but I couldn't. I'm so sorry."

"I know," she said, pulling back enough to look up at him. Ginny was aware they were drawing attention now, but she couldn't find it in her to care. Too much had happened and they'd come too far now for any of that to matter. "I know." Her face crumpled then, tears rolling down her skin. "Fred died. Draco, he's gone."

He raised his hands to cup her face, thumbs brushing at the tears. Watching her cry, feeling her shake as she held onto him yet, made keeping the moisture glistening in his own eyes from falling more difficult. It broke him in a way he didn't fully understand, to see her like this. "I'm sorry, Ginny." He would say it forever, over and over if he had to, to make up for everything. He would live a life of repentance if it would help chase away the haunted look in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

She was crying, body shaking with it, and yet seeing him look at her like that, about to fall over the edge himself, moved something in her and before she could think about it, Ginny shifted her hands to his chest, fisted her fingers in his shirt and tip-toed up to press her lips to his. Tears coated her skin and she was yet crying, but he held on to her just as tightly, kissed her as deeply as she was straining to kiss him.

It still wasn't the kiss that they should have had. It was a kiss brought about in the wake of death and pain, but it wasn't the end. This kiss was the beginning. It would change everything. It was hope.

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September 12, 2001, 1:17 P.M.
Draco Malfoy - Age 21 | Ginny Weasley – Age 20

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The bell on the door jingled as Draco stepped into Flourish & Blotts. Sliding off his sunglasses, he waited a moment as his vision adjusted; it was yet warm and bright outside despite that fall was fast approaching. He knew she would be here though. Harpies practice would have ended over an hour prior and he knew this was her usual haunt, especially at this time of year. She always seemed to be nostalgic for their early days at Hogwarts in the fall and the book store smelled faintly of the school's library; ink and parchment.

It was odd the things one thought at such times as these, though Draco wasn't unfamiliar with the phenomena of out-of-place memories surfacing when life was about to change. Perhaps his mind's own way of reminding him of what was truly essential. Given that most of his memories always came back to Ginny, to her smile, her laugh, the way she kissed him as if he was her air, Draco didn't much mind and in this particular case, it only served to affirm what he had decided to do.

His lips twitched when he caught sight of two small girls peeking down one of the aisles.

"Mary, that has to be her. She's got ginger hair."

"Lots of people have ginger hair. It doesn't mean it's her."

"She's got a broom, too, and she's wearing a Harpies jumper."

"Very astute," Draco said, mercury gaze lighting with amusement when they squeaked and turned to look up at him with wide eyes. "Ginger hair, broom, Harpie's jumper. Definitely Ginny Weasley," he said, lips twitching again.

Their breath caught and they turned back around, sneaking a look around the corner and down the aisle. "It's her, Mary. It's really her."

"I'm sure you could say hello," Draco said. Ginny was looking at him now, and even as he spoke to the dynamic little duo, his brow rose slightly as his lips curved. "I hear she's very nice."

He followed after them as they scurried down the aisle to speak to her, chattering about how she was the best Chaser ever, and could she maybe come to their birthday party? Draco had nearly laughed aloud, but Ginny had shot him a look and he kept his peace.

Only when a woman who must have one of their mother's came to collect them was Draco able to turn all his focus on Ginny. Her eyes were bright and there was color high in her cheeks. She was beautiful and his heart sped at the sight of her.

"What's that you've got?" he asked, nodding towards the book she'd set down.

Ginny raised a brow at him, suspicious as she picked up the book and held it out to him. It wasn't odd for Draco to track her down here, but there was something going on. She could tell. There was the slightest pink tint high on his cheeks, his gray eyes were just a little too bright and he was looking at her as if she held the secrets of the universe, though there was something else there too. A bit of amusement, maybe, but more.

"It's just a text on unicorns," she said cautiously, eyes narrowed at him. "What are you up to then?"

Draco grinned. "Always the bloody unicorns. I rather like dragons myself."

Despite her suspicions, Ginny's lips turned up at the edges. She remembered this conversation; they'd had it many times as children. "That's because you're a ponce," she said, leaning into him then and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I suppose I shall forgive you the flaw, though."

"Forgiven by a pauper. My life is now complete," he said dryly, though his hand slipped under her jumper to press at the base of her spine.

"As it should be," she murmured, eyes bright with humor.

"Hmm," he hummed doubtfully. His heart sped and blood rushed beneath his skin. Now. It was now. "Have you got your bracelet?"

"Yeah, did you find another charm?" she asked, already pulling away enough to unclip the silver thing, the charms jingled merrily against one another. "I don't know how we'll fit another on." She finally released the catch and held it out to him. "The last one was quite a challenge. I do believe every link is taken up, though do feel free to try."

"Actually, this one can be worn elsewhere," he said, taking the bracelet from her and carefully clipping it back on her wrist.

A delicate frown pulled between her brows. "Don't tell me you've gotten a necklace. I am not wearing a damn necklace. This thing is gaudy enough as it is. It jingles, Draco."

His lips twitched. "It's not a necklace and I promise it won't jingle." He slipped his hand into his pocket then and pulled out a small leather pouch. If he didn't know better, he'd swear his heart had stopped.

Ginny's eyes followed his hands, curious. He'd always gotten her gifts, but this one promised to be different from the rest. It was only a brief sleight of hand that emptied the contents of the tiny pouch and her eyes went wide when she saw what it was. "Draco?"

"Yes, that's what it is, Ginny."

Her gaze shifted to his. It shouldn't have been surprising. They'd been together since the Battle of Hogwarts to the displeasure of their families. Still, she was shocked. "Draco …"

"Ginny, will you marry me?" he asked, half fearing everyone in the damn shop could hear the raucous, uneven beat of his heart as he watched a plethora of emotions pass over her face, none of them particularly encouraging. "I've already asked your father. I even talked to Ron. We've … well, he didn't hit me. I figured that was the best I would get."

He was babbling. Malfoy's didn't babble. He'd always been something of a shite Malfoy, but for shite's sake, Draco didn't natter either. He shut up.

She blinked at him a few times and then a giggle slipped from her, then several more until she was laughing. Draco was looking at her, eyes a little wild, and she snatched the ring from him and slid it on the proper finger before throwing her arms around him. "Of course I'll marry you," she said, laughter beginning to subside now.

Her eyes were merry and bright. "You realize we won't be the Ponce and the Pauper anymore, yeah?"

"You're infuriating, you know that?" he returned, a mix of relief and elation snaking through his veins as he lifted his hands to run them through her hair.

"It's why you love me," she said, tip-toeing up moments later to brush her lips to his.

"Perhaps," he murmured, "though it's not why I decided to keep you forever." His lips curled into a devious smirk. "You are rather good in bed."

"Poncy git."

"I love you," he returned, grinning now at the look she was giving him. He sobered moments later though, and when he caught her gaze, his own was intently earnest. "Forever?"

"Yeah," she said, features softening. This had always been where they were headed, from the moment he had snatched her hand and dragged her off to get her scuffed shoes fixed. They had been to hell and back, had turned every family and societal expectation upside down. They were the each other's only exception.

She smiled up at him, eyes crinkling at the corners and her voice was soft as she said, "Yeah, forever."

.

Fin