A/N: I wrote this story for The DG Forum's last fic exchange for the lovely Ella-Not-Lotte, and it tied for Best Oneshot Overall, an entirely undeserved honor. You can find her original prompt at the end of the story.

If you'd like to participate in a Draco/Ginny fic exchange, the next one is beginning on September 1 at The DG Forum. Details are in my profile - or just PM me.

And maybe some of you are now wondering, "Leigh, do you ever write for things that are NOT challenges or exchanges?" And yes, my darlings, I do. I swear I do.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this offering. Props to Roma (Cadaverous Apples) for beta reading and instructing me on the proper way to gush over a cat, since I am apparently deficient when it comes to appreciating baby animals. And thanks to my grandmother, who will never read this, but who taught me to appreciate my Norse heritage. Tusen takk, Bestemor!

"His parents called him Draco, and he's anything but heroic."

Verdandi of Urðarbrunnr drew up a basin of water and cast it lazily over the roots of Yggdrasil, then sighed and leveled a glare at her sister.

"You're saying that like it's my fault, Skuld."

Skuld tossed her long hair and added her own basin of water to the Mother Tree's roots. "Well, you are the Maker of the Now."

Both maidens glanced over their shoulders to the oldest of the three, who was mending the Cloak of Destiny under a shady bough of Yggdrasil.

"Don't even think about blaming me, you two," Wyrd said calmly. "I might be responsible for the past, but I can only work with what you two give me."

"But all three of us determine the fates of babes," Verdandi complained. "You're at least a third responsible for that."

"And you define their present while Skuld crafts futures. If anything, I'm the least concerned with the fact that the boy isn't a hero," her sister replied evenly, deftly working another row onto the cloak.

Skuld dropped her basin and scowled. "Are you saying that it's my job to fix this, Wyrd?"

The eldest Norn shrugged and continued her needlework.

Verdandi smiled, but her sharp blue eyes glittered mischievously. "You are responsible for futures, dear sister."

Skuld threw her hands up. "Futures on the battlefield! Allow me to throw the boy into the heat of battle and I'll make sure he either returns home a hero or arrives in Valhalla as one of the Einherjar."

Verdandi snorted. "Any excuse to call upon your Valkyrie sisters, mmm?"

"By the gods, yes. These days it's all guns and bombs. There's no fun in choosing who dies, because the silly mortals just explode each other into smithereens. There's no drama anymore. No romance!" Skuld cried, gesturing her graceful arms at the sky, which was half–shrouded by the impossibly tall boughs of Yggdrasil.

Verdandi lowered her basin into the well and drew up more fresh water. "I'm not letting you throw a battle into the middle of the present. It's precarious enough as it is."

"And whose fault is that?" Skuld demanded, crossing her arms.

Verdandi arched an eyebrow. "That would be your fault, dear sister. I must use what you give me, O Future Crafter."

Skuld huffed. "Well, the boy's destiny is to save something, right? It doesn't necessarily mean he has to be a hero, exactly."

"Interpretations like that, dear sister, might be why Verdandi's work is so tricky," Wyrd said quietly, and Skuld rolled her eyes.

"Have you even seen this boy?" Verdandi asked. "He's very beautiful, as mortals go. And a wielder of the magic of Gambanteinn, too."

"He's too pretty," Skuld said, peering down the well. "If I liked mortal men (and you know that will never happen) I'd want him to have more muscle and a nice, thick neck. And preferably be a bit more scarred with battle wounds. Mortal men should look the part, if you know what I mean. And the magic of the Gambanteinn will just complicate things. You know I have no love of Wizardry, since it's obvious that brute strength is far more exciting than a wand."

Wyrd set down her cloak and walked to join her sisters at the edge of Urðarbrunnr. "Enough bickering. It's time to make a decision, sisters," she said gently.

"Well, what will you give me to work with, O Keeper of the Present? If not a battle, then perhaps a maiden? He cannot be so callous to refuse the plight of a distressed maiden?"

Verdandi folded her arms. "Certainly not. The fates are interwoven, but I'm not about to purposely unravel them so you can put some poor soul in danger. You can use a cat."

"A cat?" cried Skuld, gesturing wildly to Wyrd. "See what I have to work with? She expects me to turn the man into a hero with a cat!"

"I've seen you do more with less," smiled Wyrd, resting a fair hand on her sister's shoulder. "Remember the loose horseshoe?"

Skuld grinned. "How could I forget? The whole battle was lost." The youngest Norn stood up to her full height and looked down the well with a wry grin.

"Beware, Draco Malfoy. I'll make a hero of you yet."

Draco Malfoy loosened the shockingly purple tie that designated him a Healer–in–Training from around his elegantly thin neck and gave his reflection a smug look. There was something deeply satisfying about the act of loosening a properly knotted Windsor knot, especially when it was combined with the rolling up of one's sleeves so that they showed the perfect amount of casually bare, completely flawless forearm. And if he was a little vain, so what? He had a reputation to maintain.

Gracefully, he scooped up his Healer text from the edge of the sink and made his way out of his lavatory. He had a glorious hour free before the next lecture, and between the newly warm days of spring and the fact that his flawless forearms were just a shade too pale, he had decided to do his reading outdoors. The next class promised to be an hour of boredom spent listening to an ancient Mediwizard drone on about the treatments for vanishing sickness, and he wanted to soak in the sun while he had the chance.

The campus of St. Galen's School for Wizard Healers was quiet, as most students had a class during this period, and he made it out of Mungo Hall without incident. The spring air greeted him cheerfully as he sauntered down to the placid lake that graced the center of the idyllic campus, and he repressed the smile that the warm breeze attempted to eke out of his carefully practiced smirk.

In less than a minute, Draco was sitting against a comfortable old tree, gazing out at the calm water. The scene was perfect, from the light pastel blue of the sky through which wisps of feathery white cloud arced, to the subtle fragrance of green things beginning to grow. His tree hadn't leafed yet, but red buds covered the limbs. A swan swooped across the water and landed with barely a splash in the water nearby, making the scene doubly idyllic. With a sigh, Draco leaned back, opened his text – and heard a yowl.

Damn it.

He craned his neck upward and saw it: a little ball of black and white, high in the limbs of his tree. It was a cat – a kitten, by the size of it – and it was clearly scared to death.

"I'd howl too, if my owner was a careless idiot," Draco said aloud, and turned back to his book.

The animal made another loud noise, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He was going to have to get the idiotic animal out of the tree if he wanted to have any peace, he decided.

He stood and looked around. The lake seemed deserted, which was important. He didn't feel like quelling a school–wide rumor that Draco Malfoy liked kittens.

Raising his wand, he began, "Wingardi–"

"Malfoy?"

He whipped around, wand leveled at this intruder from who–knows–where. His stomach sank as he smoothed a cruel sneer over his startled features.

"Weaselette," he drawled, looking her up and down. She was clutching a copy of Understanding Healing: An Introduction for Healers–in–Training. Great. "Where'd you come from? Cutting your intro class to meet Potter in the bushes for a midday snog? Isn't he busy attempting to be a bloody annoying Auror?"

She glared ferociously at him. "I have the afternoon free, and I thought I'd go for a walk," she spat. "I'm not in the habit of snogging in bushes, and I'm not with Potter. I mean, Harry. I'm not with Harry," she amended.

Interesting, how riled up a mention of the Boy–Who–Annoyed made her. Draco supposed this had to do with unrequited affection, or something equally idiotic. Probably the fact that Potter was a moron played into it, too.

"Oh?" he challenged her, delighted that he'd found a sore spot to prod. "Then why do you always look like you've been tumbling about in weeds?" he said loftily. She was out of uniform and dressed in Muggle clothing – a plaid, button–up shirt and faded trousers – so it was hardly an unfair insult.

She took two steps forward and snarled, "Why do you always look like you spent the morning asking your mirror if you were the fairest of them all?"

That was a bit below the belt, since it had been ages since he'd asked his mirror anything, and he settled on a choice glare to hold her off while he decided which barb to throw her way next. She returned his gaze, glowering fiercely and looking altogether too smug. Their mutual glaring was suddenly interrupted by a pained yowl, and before Draco could distract her with either a vicious insult or his flawless looks, her gaze flew up into the tree.

"Ohhh, there's a kitten trapped up there!" she cried. "Poor thing. It's probably scared to death. We should get it down."

Draco stared at her. "We?" he enquired acerbically.

Weasley huffed angrily. "Fine, I'll do it, since you're a heartless bastard."

"I beg your pardon," Draco retorted, folding his arms. "Heartless, yes, but I'm legitimate."

The redhead rolled her eyes. "Legitimately heartless, you mean." She began to size up the tree and the kitten, unsheathing her wand and stepping backward as though to have the clearest view.

Draco hadn't realized the awfulness of the pun until he'd said it, and as a result was fighting off the need to Obliviate the last thirty seconds from the Weasel-girl's mind. Now that he stopped to think about it, this entire interaction was a disaster.

"Just hurry up and get that cat out of here," he grumbled. "I have reading to do."

He watched the way her loose hair tumbled over her shoulders as she lifted her arms and said, "Wingardium Leviosa" with the proper swish-and-flick.

The swan in the lake let out a mighty squawk, but the small kitten didn't budge. The beast merely yowled more than ever as Ginny lowered her wand.

"That's odd," she muttered. "I did the charm right."

Draco scoffed. "Clearly, you're incompetent."

The redhead stamped her foot. "How did I get into St. Galen's then? Clearly, you're a git. Do it yourself, then. Rescue the ickle kitty," she said, her voice shifting from frustrated to frustrating. Draco despised being mocked.

He lifted his wand and cast the charm, just as she had. Again, the swan let out a cry far too indelicate for such an elegant bird – and again, the cat failed to move. If anything, it hunkered closer to the tree bough.

He turned to note that the Weasley girl was giving him a look of sheer triumph.

"Now who did the charm wrong?" she asked, her voice smug. "I guess we'll have to climb the tree to get it down."

He calmly appraised her, then folded his arms. "You know what would work well? A Reductor Curse, flung straight at that little beast."

"You wouldn't dare," she said, and to his dismay her tone was more amused than horrified.

He sighed. He hated this stupid day, with its stupid sun and warm breeze and redheaded girls and cats. He thought longingly of blizzards and frostbitten kittens. He could even imagine the howling of the winter wind – no, that was the obnoxious animal.

"I'm going inside," he announced, and bent down to pick up his book. The Weasley girl ought to realize that with an arse as perfect as his, he'd have better things to do than chase cats. After all, he had a reputation to maintain.

When he stood and faced her, however, he was met with dry indifference. "You're just going to leave that poor animal in the tree?"

"Yes, I think I am," he said, satisfied with his decision.

The Weasley girl swept her hair idly back over her shoulders and arched an eyebrow in obvious disapproval. "Huh. I guess it's true then."

He knew he shouldn't, but he took the bait. "What's true?"

"Oh, back at Hogwarts it was all over Gryffindor that you're scared of cats. It was lions, at first, but you know how these things go."

The swan on the lake squawked loudly again, and Draco suddenly felt the distinct feeling that the powers that be were aligned against him. Between the cat, the Weasel, and the oddly vocal swan, he was doomed to humiliation. The best offense was definitely a good defense – which translated into a quick retreat.

"Weasley, I am not scared of it. I just don't want it ruining my afternoon."

"Sure you're not. That's why you're running away."

He rolled his eyes and turned to leave. He was Draco Malfoy and he had better things to do than listen to a pathetic excuse for a witch try to provoke him into climbing a tree to save a kitten.

To his horror, the beautiful swan took this opportunity to fly gracefully from the lake onto the grassy shore, landing directly in front of him. The beast blocked his path and hissed violently, confirming his suspicions: fate was against him today. Rescuing kittens, talking to weasels, and being threatened by a damned bird. His reputation would be ruined if any of this got out.

A sarcastic giggle from behind him confirmed the matter. "Scared of kitties and birdies, Malfoy? Oh, you're never going to live this down."

Was it his addled imagination, or did the swan just nod in agreement?

Draco ran a hand through his hair and let out his breath slowly. Adding murder or swancide to his day was not what he'd planned, and it wasn't going to help him in the slightest. He turned slowly and walked back to the smirking girl.

"You're lucky I'm not going to fire a Blasting Curse through your oh-so-noble heart, Weaselette," he snarled, deciding that scaring the younger girl was the best way to remind her that he was Draco Malfoy. "And then I'll take care of the swan, too."

She didn't flinch. "You're lucky I'm not the type to broadcast your stupidity," she spat.

"Well you–" He stopped. Had she just said she wouldn't tell? Was this some sort of odd Weasley nobility, or was she trying to take him in? She was still glaring at him maliciously, but there was none of that sly look that her set got when they thought they were being sneaky.

"Well I what?" She crossed her arms, and he noted that the sleeves of her shirt were rolled up too, revealing freckled arms. Even though his sleeves were impeccably cuffed at his elbow – and his forearms were perfect – the similarity was mildly disturbing.

He sighed. "You're not going to tell anyone that I risked my neck to save a kitten?"

She wrinkled her nose in confusion. It was cute, he thought, then hurriedly banished the stray idea. The Weasley girl was anything but cute.

"I won't tell if you don't want me to, but you're training to be a Healer, right? Aren't compassion and caring for creatures in need part of the job?" she asked, clearly puzzled.

He carefully arched an eyebrow. "Wizards in need. And unless that's the stupidest Animagus in all of Britain, cats don't fall under that description." He wasn't going to add that he was only a Healer–in–Training to make his mum happy.

"It's still a mark of compassion to care for animals," she chided. While he appreciated the fact that her raw ire had apparently worn off, he did not like being scolded by this young upstart of a witch, no matter how cute she looked when she was confused.

"Fine, Malfoy. If you won't save the kitty-cat, then I will," she said as he beat down this odd idea that the redhead was cute. He thought about stopping her, but she'd already turned to the tree and jumped up grab onto the lowest branch. She hung precariously in mid-air for a moment, during which that Muggle plaid shirt rode up to reveal an expanse of smooth, non-freckled skin across her lower back. Draco went from beating back an idea to frantically trying to destroy a whole scenario in the matter of moments it took for her to lose her grip and drop back to the ground.

"Damn it. That's higher than it looks," she said, brushing off her hands and jumping again. This time he had the sense to look away before his hormones caused him to do something really, really stupid. The menacing swan appeared to take this as some sort of retreat, because it honked again, and Weasley slipped out of the tree once more, with a choicier expletive.

He looked over to find her glaring at the tree, fists on her hips. She caught his gaze and shrugged. "I'm normally pretty good at trees. This one is weirdly slippery or something."

"A slippery tree?" he drawled.

With a dramatic eye roll, she sighed. "Give me a boost?"

"Give you a – boost?" Draco parroted. This presented all sorts of problems. If he was seen handling the Weasley, he'd have to explain why he was touching her, why she was climbing the tree and he wasn't, why a black and white cat was by turns cowering and yowling high in the tree, and why the swan was apparently freaking out – the bird was flapping its wings and squawking.

"What is wrong with that bird?" Ginny demanded. "Think it has a nest in the tree? I didn't think swans nested in trees, but I've never seen a bird act so bizarrely in my life."

Draco had a vague memory of a ridiculous Weasley owl but decided to keep his mouth shut.

"I–I think I'll save the kitten," he said hastily. Instantly, the swan and the cat were quiet. Fate was certainly working against him today, but if climbing a tree was what it took, then fate be damned. He'd climb.

Ginny gave him a mocking smile and gestured to the tree. "Be my guest."

Dusting imaginary dust off his flawless hands, he jumped up and caught the lowest branch. He was roughly a head taller than Weasley, and between his height and the fact that the branch wasn't remotely slippery, his hands found an easy purchase. He swung his leg up and over the branch, finding a comfortable seat. He looked smugly down at Ginny, whose hands were still on her hips. Her own attempts to climb the tree had caused the color in her cheeks to rise, and he noticed for the first time that her eyes were a very pretty shade of brown.

"Bravo," she drawled sarcastically. "The boy who is scared of kittens can climb trees."

If she would keep her mouth shut, she'd actually be a lovely woman, Draco decided as he grabbed the next highest branch and began to climb. He felt disturbingly self-conscious. It didn't matter what Weasley's opinion of his tree-climbing ability was. Nor was it the fact that he was giving her an excellent vantage point from which to check out his bum. Perhaps, he realized, it was the fact that this entire situation was so out of his element – so far from what he'd planned for the day – that he couldn't help but feel slightly awkward.

The spreading branches of the leafless tree were easy enough to climb, and he reached the cat easily. It was a kitten, and a tiny one: barely more than a ball of black and white fur, with tiny little ears and big, bright blue eyes. It eyed him warily, then gave him a pathetic little meow.

He realized he had no idea what to do next.

"Er, Weasley?" he called.

"What?" she said. "Suddenly remembered how scared you are of cats? Or heights? Or both?"

Merlin's arse, the woman was impossible. He scowled and reached for the cat. It was unbelievably soft, and lighter than he expected. He gently pried the shivering creature from the tree branch and after a moment's pause, clutched it close to his chest. Instantly, the animal latched on with its tiny claws, which was terribly annoying. This Oxford was tailored and hand-stitched.

"Did you get it?" she demanded.

He sighed. "Yeah, I've got it," he replied, and began the one–handed descent. It was harder than it looked to climb down a tree while holding a scared animal. There was a reason that he avoided unnecessary heroism. But near the lowest branch, the creature began to purr quietly against his chest, and Draco couldn't deny the fact that there was something nice about the tiny animal's gratitude for him, the Protector. Maybe being a Healer would be good for more than just satisfying his mother's insistence that he pursue a career.

Weasley squealed as he stepped onto the lowest branch. "Oh, it's tiny! How adorable!"

Draco glanced lazily at the cat. "I guess, if you like cats," he said coolly. "Here, I'll hand it down to you. I don't want to jump down and startle it."

The kitten mewed when he pried it from his shirt and lowered it into her raised hands, but didn't seem to be quite as frightened. The girl cooed over it as Draco swung his leg over the branch and dropped to the ground in front of her.

"Look, he's got little white socks," Weasley gushed, showing him the kitten's white feet. "And he's so adorable, with those big blue eyes. I don't think I've seen such an adorable kitten before!"

Draco was torn. On one hand, the redhead was really quite pretty when she smiled, but on the other, if he heard the word "adorable" one more time, he was going to be sick.

"What should we name him? Oh, let's call him Socks. Or Boots? It's a him, I checked," she prattled, and Draco felt minutely sorry for the poor beast. No male should be subject to such an ignoble disregard for his modesty.

Draco picked up his text book. "'We' aren't going to name him anything. You can keep him if you want, but I don't want anything to do with it." She had to understand that his reputation precluded cat ownership.

But Weasley was indefatigable. She thrust the animal into his arms, and he dropped the textbook and grabbed the cat. The little monster yowled and batted its claws, and three tiny little red lines began to rise on Draco's arm.

"Merlin's arse," he yelped, glaring at it.

She laughed. "Aw, Boots. Did mean old Draco scare you? He didn't mean it. He just tries to be a ponce to preserve his reputation."

"I do not," Draco said quickly. "But you'll notice that I'm bleeding and the cat is – well, it's purring." He looked down with momentary shock. The cat had curled back against his chest and was happily purring once more.

"Awww, it likes you! How can you be an utter git and tell me that he isn't adorable?" Weasley argued, grinning at him. She was certainly a woman of volatile emotion.

He sighed. "Fine, it's . . . it's not half-bad," he admitted. "I guess adorable is a decent word."

She laughed triumphantly. "I have to admit, Malfoy, that I didn't think you had all of this in you. I thought you'd just fling your insults at me and then stalk away, but . . . well, you surprised me. In a good way."

He was silent for a long moment. "Well," he began, hating the gruff tremor in his voice, "I think fate had it in for me today."

He caught a flash of something new in her eye – admiration? affection? – and noticed the faint beginning of a blush creep up her neck.

"You think this was destiny?"

Draco absently petted the kitten in his arms. It was a strangely calming action. "It certainly wasn't luck."

They looked at each other for a long moment, until Ginny burst out laughing. "This is all so strange. That swan, and Boots, and you–"

"I have class," Draco said suddenly. "Can you – do you want to take, er, Boots?"

Ginny stopped laughing, and he thought, maybe, that her face fell a little. "Oh right, class. Er, okay, I'll take him." She reached out and he pulled the tiny animal's claws out of his shirt for the second time in five minutes. If he was going to be a cat owner, he needed to order more clothes.

"We should probably meet later to discuss Boot's custody," he drawled, hoping very hard that his apathy sounded more real than it felt. "I'm done at four."

He liked the way her face brightened. "I'm done for the afternoon. I'll meet you outside Mungo Hall at four, then?"

As though on cue, the insane swan suddenly flapped its wings and swooped into the air, flying over both their heads and up into the sky, disappearing behind a wisp of fluffy cloud.

Draco shrugged and picked up his book. "Four will do. See you then, Weasley."

"It's Ginny, you know," she said, once again absorbed in petting Boots.

He had a very, very hard time repressing the smile, and the smirk never made it onto his face. "Sure. See you then, Ginny."

Skuld shook off the white swan feathers so roughly that Urðarbrunnr appeared as it did in the worst blizzards of the winter. Brushing the last of the white down from her arms, she turned and crowed triumphantly.

"Did you see what I did, Verdandi! You gave me a stinking kitten and I changed the boy's fate! Of course, I've also turned him into a soft-hearted weakling, by my reckoning. Too bad. He might have made a lovely warrior for my Valkyrie sisters."

Verdandi smiled smugly. "You realize he was studying to be a healer of men?"

Skuld waved the thought away. "So? I have no issue with healers. I still decide who lives and dies."

"But healers save people, by nature. He would have undoubtedly become a hero, eventually," Verdandi said slowly.

Skuld froze. "What do you mean? When did you figure that out?" she asked icily.

Verdandi laughed coldly. "While you were complaining about the size of his neck. But I was sick of your whining and thought you deserved the lesson."

"What? You put me through all that trouble for nothing but a fool's errand?" Skuld shrieked. "Wyrd, are you hearing this?"

Wyrd still sat placidly under the spreading boughs of Yggdrasil. "You're the one who called it a fool's errand, my hot-blooded sister."

"Augh! Well, you know what, Verdandi? You're going to love this, but you know as well as I do that the fates of mortals are interwoven. And guess whose fates I interwove?" Skuld mocked, throwing her arms in the air in a wild shrug.

It was Verdandi's turn to freeze. "What did you do?" she hissed.

"Oh, you'll see. Give it a few months – maybe a few years – but you'll see. You know what mortals say, my dear Keeper of the Present: all's fair in war . . . and in love."

Verdandi leaped at her sister's throat, and Skuld caught at her sister's long hair. In moments, the two were a tangle of limbs and blonde hair.

"The roots of Yggdrasil grow ever drier," chanted Wyrd, and the two sheepishly stood, Verdandi clutching a scratched arm and Skuld looking happier than she'd looked in a century. "You've both done enough damage for today. And besides, Verdandi, what's wrong with a pair of mortals falling in love? Lovers mean newborns, and newborns need fates. I suggest you both get back to work."

Verdandi obediently picked up her basin and filled it, but Skuld looked down the well thoughtfully.

"By Valhalla, the child of those two will need a fate unlike any other." The youngest Norn sighed gleefully. "I can't wait."

A/N: In a story this length, I didn't have time to go into expository detail about all the mythology surrounding the Norse Fates, or Norns. If you're interested, the Wikipedia page about the Norns is quite thorough, and explains the three sisters, the tree, and their roles weaving and shaping fates. You can definitely see the Classical influence at work, too.

The swan is perhaps the most confusing element-I-didn't-have-time-to-properly-explain in this story, and if I ever re-write, I'll do that better. The youngest sister, Skuld, is also the leader of the Valkyrie, and in Norse legend, Valkyrie can take the form of swans. So that crazy-acting bird is actually the youngest Norn trying to corral Draco into heroism. ;)

Ella Not Lotte's Prompt:

Basic premise: The last thing that Draco wanted was to be the hero rescuing the damsel in distress, and the last thing Ginny wanted was to be his sidekick. However, Fate has other plans, and Draco finds himself thrust into the role of a sort of anti-hero with only Ginny's help.

Must haves: Fate has to be an actual character similar to the gods in ancient mythology. Lots of conflict between Draco and Ginny, Draco originally wanting nothing to do with his role as a hero but eventually accepting his fate are also must haves.

No-no's: Draco becoming chivalrous and heroic. He has to be a reluctant hero. Harry Potter playing a significant role in the story.

Rating Range: K-M (No NC-17)

Bonus points: Draco having to rescue a small child or domesticated animal, the child/domesticated animal acting ungrateful (insulting/biting/scratching Draco). Draco whining about his reputation being 'ruined.