Epilogue: July to December

July 2009

It was just a drunken kiss that she could barely remember. She should not bat an eye at it.

She was a twenty-seven—almost twenty-eight—year-old Quidditch star, for Merlin's sake.

But the truth was, the last time Ginny had kissed anyone on the lips, other than Harry, she was fifteen and just had her first shot of alcohol. Back then, she ignored Colin for weeks after the incident out of embarrassment, and did not start acting normally around him again until a full school year later. She was older now, but no less awkward outside of an established relationship, and maybe that was her excuse for the odd mixture of fear, hope, embarrassment, and excitement she felt when she saw Draco again at her door, looking perfectly composed.

"You cut your hair," she stated, staring at his newly shortened blond hair. Just as she had requested. She swallowed hard.

His only response was a slight smirk.

"Reservation is in twenty minutes, we better get going," he announced without turning back. The restaurant was, as usual, in the Muggle part of town and there was no instantaneous way to get there. They would have to walk a good fifteen minutes from the closest Apparition point. It made perfect logical sense they should make haste, but she found herself illogically disappointed.

They talked about their week as they walked, a casual foot of distance between them, not touching. They had not seen each other for over a week. He had only gotten back to London an hour prior and had been in New York for some official bank business before that, something to do with a deal with a Muggle bank. He sounded cheerful, excited, as he talked about the deal, but she wasn't entirely clear why because she was not really listening, her mind too occupied with the internal battle for and against taking initiative again and reaching for his hand.

It took a full ten minutes before she found her courage, but Draco moved his hand to smooth out the lapel on his jacket just before her hand made contact. His movement was smooth and casual, but she could not help but think he had moved his hand on purpose.

They had finished their appetizers when she decided she was not being overly sensitive and their interaction was off—subtle, as if the world had suddenly shifted two shades too dark. He was attentive and he still teased and laughed, but it was as if there was a clear force field between them. Every time she leaned in and reached over to his side of the table for the salt or the water jar, he visibly leaned back. It was just an inch—she wondered if he was even conscious about what he was doing—but it was enough to make her heart twist.

It made her question if she had made a colossal mistake by kissing him. It made her wonder if she had grossly over estimated what he had felt for her. It made her wonder if she had pushed him too far too fast.

She was too scared of his answer to ask, and with Draco being unforthcoming, the questions stewed in her head and kindled her temper. Her mood soured. She grew quiet, refused to laugh at his jokes, and snapped at him until their easy conversation died. Draco bore it all with admirable patience as she ruined their dinner. She was not proud of her behavior, but she was angry and frustrated, and not entirely sure with whom she was more frustrated: him for being so perfectly happy at leaving everything nebulous, or herself for needing to put a name to what was between them.

She should have gone home and slept her tantrum off, but the storm in her heart made her foolish, and when he announced he needed to buy some chocolate at the high-end grocery store after dinner, she followed, only to find fault in everything he did.

"For Merlin's sake, could you be any more indecisive?" she cried when Draco put away the seventh chocolate bar and picked up the eighth. "They're all the same."

Draco clucked his tongue and continued to read the ingredients on the packaging. "They are most certainly not all the same," he replied, sounding a little scandalized. "I thought your palate had advanced beyond that."

It was their usual banter, but what used to make her smile only aggravated her. "Stop being a food snob and hurry up."

Draco glanced up at her. She had called him a snob enough times that she knew it was the harshness of her tone that caught his attention and not her words. "I did warn you this would take a while."

"If you didn't want to walk me home, you could've just said so."

Draco furrowed his brows as he stared at her. "I'm perfectly happy to walk you home," he clarified. "But I only want the best. Besides, what's the rush? You said you had no other plans."

His explanation sounded reasonable enough, but she found herself irrationally irate anyway. When he leisurely presented her a chocolate bar and asked for her opinion she refused to look at it. "It's fine, whatever," she huffed, glaring.

"Ginny—"

She turned away from him before he could continue, her feet hitting the floor unnecessarily hard as she walked away.

"Hey, wait." Draco briskly followed her. "If you really want to go now, I'll come back later."

She stayed silent and marched out of the store.

She was almost at the Apparition point when he caught up with her.

"What's wrong?"

At the corner of her eye she saw his hand reach out toward her before faltering just inches away from her shoulder. She was instantly reminded of everything that was wrong. The frustration, hurt, and anger flared to the surface all at once. She stopped, spun around, and grabbed his still hovering hand. "This! This is what's wrong!"

She could not help herself but tightened her grip when she felt him jerk away. An unpleasant laugh escaped her lips as she savored the way his lips twist into a grimace. "Funny, to think just last month you actually enjoyed holding my hand," she said as sarcastically as she could as she threw his hand down in a harsh shake. "I'm not going to apologize for what happened at the party."

At that he looked genuinely baffled. He opened his mouth, closed it without words, before finally opening it again a full ten seconds later. When he spoke, he spoke carefully. "Why would you apologize? If anyone should apologize, it would be me. We were both drunk, but you were drunker, and I took advantage of the situation."

It was her turn to be incredulous. She could tell by the earnest glint in his eyes that he really believed this. "Took advantage of the situation? You are aware I kissed you first, right?"

Draco ran his fingers through his hair twice in quick succession. "I was sober enough to know that was a possibility when I went to find you on the dance floor but I went anyway."

"I didn't kiss you because I was too drunk to know better, I kissed you because I wanted to," she told him without hesitation. When he looked back at her with enough skepticism to drown a boat full of optimists she added: "That isn't the first party I've gone to. I have better self-control than to just throw myself at the first man I see."

"Don't be ridiculous. You wouldn't have done so in normal circumstances. You don't—"

"Don't you dare tell me you know me better than I know myself!" she could not help but cut him off, almost shouting in exasperation. "I like you, Draco, more than as friends. I want to date you. How much clearer do I need to spell this out for you?"

Draco caught a sharp breath like she had hit him. He swallowed visibly before turning away.

She looked at him steadily, daring him to contradict her again. She had not meant to confess, but she had always been impulsive, and now that the deed was done she was desperate for an answer. "Either tell me you want us to be something more or tell me you don't, but say something," she told him, her sharp voice sliced into the tense silence that fell between them.

"It's… It's not a matter of want…" he told her eventually, his eyes downcast. "It's a matter of understanding the consequences."

She laid her heart bare on the table and that was the best answer he could give her? Her jaw worked over itself as she exploded. "Consequences? What? That I would prevent you from having that quiet anonymous life you dreamed of?"

His eyes darted to her immediately, a look of confused alarm. "No, how could you even—"

"That I would somehow devalue the great Malfoy wealth? That you would have to condescend to visiting with the rest of my uncultured family?" she did not really believe what she said, but those words were the only thing keeping her from breaking into ugly sobs, so she spoke them out loud until they hung heavily in the air like accusations.

He regarded her for a long moment and then sighed, deeply, like a tired parent needing to explain the most obvious truth to a child. "No. Consequences, as in how I would be a burden to you. People think you're a saint for befriending someone like me, but I know they would not be so charitable in their opinion if we are dating right now."

The self-deprecating way in which he said 'someone like me' bothered her, but she refused to let that detract her from her question. "Who cares about what other people think?"

Draco laughed, bitter and humorless. "Don't be ridiculous, your reputation matters."

"Answer my question."

He gnawed at his lower lip and didn't answer her.

"Nothing?"

He stayed silent.

"Nothing," she repeated in disbelief, feeling like she had been punched. The fact Draco was unwilling to commit to any answer after she had spilled out her feelings stung worse than a rejection.

In a fight or flight situation, Ginny had always been more of a fighter, so instead of Disapparating home and nursing her broken heart with a good cry, Ginny found her brain racing to formulate a brutal comeback. She spun on her heels and mumbled loud enough for him to hear: "For all of his flaws, at least your father always knows what he wants."

"What did you say?" Draco asked quietly.

There was warning in his voice. She knew exactly how much a comparison to Lucius would hurt him but the impulse to hit back was so strong. She straightened her back and fixed him with the most scornful look she could muster. "Oh you heard exactly what I said."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You don't want me to be like my father."

"Maybe in this one instance I do," she hissed back. "Unlike you, he is not afraid of doing what takes to get what he wants. All you ever do is cower at the corner and hesitate."

"You don't understand!"

"Oh, but I do. There are reasons why you lived behind a false identity without any attempt at improving your own reputation for so many years. You'd rather play a martyr than fight back or solve the actual problem like a man. That doesn't make you a hero. That just makes you a pathetic, scared man-child. No wonder you are a disappointment to everyone, especially your poor father."

"I'm not deluded enough to think I'm a hero," he snarled, his face was open anguish and his voice jagged. "I know I'm a selfish coward. But I hesitate, because unlike my father, I think about the cost."

"As if indecision has no cost!" she snapped sarcastically, callously. Her mind was too clouded by her jilted feelings to hold back. She wanted to hurt him like the way he had hurt her and it was so, so easy. On purpose or not, Draco had let her know enough of himself for her to wound him. "You couldn't make up your mind enough to refuse Voldemort's mark but you also couldn't make up your mind enough to finish your mission when you pointed your wand at Dumbledore. If you hadn't hesitated and failed so spectacularly, Snape would never had to sacrifice his life!"

Draco recoiled.

And Ginny knew right away that she had crossed the line between righteous anger and needless cruelty. She knew she had hit too hard, cut too deep. "I'm—"

His hand suddenly connected with her shoulder. The shift of the air was her only warning before the violent jerk of an Apparation spell pulled air out of her lungs. When the ground solidified underneath her again, she was in front of her apartment building and Draco's hand was already off her shoulder. He did not look angry, but that would have been preferable to his distant, impassive expression and the distinct feeling that he had closed himself off because he could not trust her anymore.

She tried to speak again when she regained her bearings. She reached for him. "Draco, I—"

"Don't," Draco interrupted as he stepped out of her reach. The steely coldness of his tone shot an unpleasant chill down her spine.

A pop sounded in the air and Draco Disapparated.

August 2009

After their fight, Draco did not Floo to her flat for their Takeout Tuesday like he always did when he was not traveling for work. He also did not owl her about their next dinner, like he always did when he missed their Tuesday get together. A week into the unbearable silence, she could only conclude he was avoiding her.

She could not exactly blame him, because what she said was cruel and awful. Draco told her about his past, his vulnerabilities, and she had used that knowledge against him, to metaphorically kick him where it hurts.

But despite knowing that, she was not quite ready to apologize. He deserved it, said an indignant, vicious voice at the back of her head. It had been over a year since they met as adults, over eight months since the whole Floy fiasco, and she was more than patient with him. She liked him, and she knew she was not crazy in thinking he liked her back given the attention he had given to her. It was not her fault he was too cripplingly resigned, too tiringly passive to make a move, to acknowledge what was between them even when she made her feelings clear. She was only human. He made her insecure and she lashed out, no one could criticize her.

She conceded to send him a note on the Wednesday before her birthday party because she was a woman of action and a mature adult: Will I see you at my party? Or are you planning to ignore me forever like a coward?

She did not tell him she missed him or that she waited for two hours at her home the night before in case he decided to join her for the Takeout Tuesday. She was too proud to admit that.

Pig returned three hours later, looking more chipper than he had for days and his stomach suspiciously full. Her note was still on his leg unread. Draco must have bribed him with his favorite treats and sent him back.

He did not even bother to read her note.

The pettiness made her so angry she untied the note from Pig, threw it into the fireplace and watched it turn into ash. She promised herself she would not talk to him again until he sent her a note first.

She went out for a shopping spree at Diagon Alley on Thursday. She told herself she was shopping for birthday gifts for herself, but really she just needed a distraction from thinking about Draco. It was all going pretty well (her wallet and her mood being significantly lighter) until around lunch time, when she decided to splurge and eat lunch at the top rated French restaurant in the Alley.

That was when she started to hear his name in the conversations around her. At first, she tried to brush the mentions off as coincidences. The wizards on her left looked like the types who would have large investment accounts at Gringotts, so perhaps one of them was Draco's client. But then, she heard his name mentioned again by another group, and then again by a third group on her way out, and she could not help but think the universe was conspiring against her and everyone was mentioning Draco's name for a reason.

A visit to the newspaper stand confirmed her suspicion. Draco was on front page of the Daily Prophet with the Head Goblin at Gringotts.

Apparently, the New York deal that Draco had excitedly spoke about as they walked to the restaurant, the deal that she had brushed aside as unimportant last Saturday, was actually a multi-billion acquisition of a mid-size Muggle bank. According to the paper, the deal will be extremely lucrative for Gringotts and the bank was now positioned to be the central broker for all inter wizarding to muggle transactions around the world.

The paper went on to say acquiring a Muggle bank was something that economists and bankers in the wizarding community had been dreaming about for years, but complexity of international laws and the imperfect understanding of muggle customs and economy had always hampered the efforts. The article ended with Daily Prophet's head financial analyst naming key players in the Gringotts team that made the dream into reality. The first name mentioned was Draco Malfoy.

It occurred to her that the deal must be an achievement similar in magnitude to her getting the Harpies into the European Cup for the first time in thirty years. It also dawned on her that the restaurant Draco had reserved was nicer than their usual haunts and, maybe, he had meant it to be a celebratory dinner. He must have found her lukewarm reaction to the deal disappointing even if he did not say anything, and then instead of showing any appreciation for what he had accomplished—Ginny could not help but wince—she had called him a disappointment and rubbed his greatest regret in his face.

Her anger retreated, replaced by sadness and a dose of guilt.

She went home. She threw down the bags of new clothes and shoes at the door and marched straight to the parchment paper and quill on her kitchen counter.

I read the Daily Prophet article. Congr—She crumpled the paper. She did not think straight up admitting she was not listening to him did her any favors.

Hope you have been doing well. I've been doing—She crumpled the paper again. That was too much stalling.

In the end, the note she tied onto Pig's leg was so laughably simple given how long she took to get there:

I'm sorry about what I said that night. Can we talk things out?

The note was gone from Pig's leg when he returned thirty minutes later, but there was no reply.

Her 28th birthday party was a production paid entirely by her sponsors that involved an oversized ballroom, professional DJs, catered food, and two hundred people. This was not what she had in mind when she gave her publicist permission to plan her birthday party. She had naively envisioned a small, intimate dinner with her teammates and friends, maybe a fun night out in town afterwards. This was as far from intimate as parties could be and she was fairly sure she did not know half the people mingling at her own party.

It made her a little overwhelmed, and if she was fully honest, a little miserable.

Small talks with strangers were not exactly her idea of fun. Her friends and family had dispersed and disappeared into the crowd, and—she did not want to admit this—it was ironic, half of London seemed to be present at her party, but the one person she wanted to speak with was stubbornly absent.

She sighed for what must have been the fiftieth time and chided herself for being disappointed. It was not that Draco had said he would come, but her foolish, optimistic heart hoped he would surprise her anyway.

So much for birthday miracles.

"Miss Weasley, Happy Birthday."

And so much for her plan to head to the ladies room and hide.

She turned to the speaker, a man she had a vague memory of but had no idea exactly where she met him from. She forced a polite smile on her lips.

"Thanks so much for inviting me to your party," the man said, "The food is so spectacular."

"It is," she agreed curtly, not bothering to hide her irritation. She already lost count of how many times she had the same conversation that night. She thought if she had one more conversation about how wonderful the DJs were, or how perfect the decoration was, or how nice the weather was she would scream.

The man, unfortunately, did not take the hint. "And the music—"

"Ginny, here you are," said a familiar voice that felt like Merlin-sent.

"Pansy," Ginny breathed out as she turned toward the voice.

"I've been looking all over for you," Pansy exclaimed dramatically with a subtle wink. She turned to the nameless man as she pulled Ginny toward her. "I'll have to borrow her from you, I hope you don't mind." She sent the man a look that sent him sputtering.

"Of… of course not."

An uneven smile appeared on Pansy's face, and without waiting another moment, she spun on her heels and dragged Ginny behind her until they were in the middle of the dance floor.

"Thanks," Ginny shouted above the music. Amongst Draco's friends, Ginny knew Pansy least, but at that moment she could almost kiss her.

Pansy shrugged and shouted back as she swayed to the music: "You looked like you needed a breather."

They danced a full song without speaking. Ginny was not drunk, she barely had two drinks with all the small talks, but it was cathartic to just jump and bounce and wave her arms in silly ways. Her mind involuntarily flashed to the last time she was on a dance floor. The silly spinning she indulged in with Caleb's friend, the way she suddenly found herself in the arms of… It was silly, but she scanned the dance floor around her even though she knew Draco would not be there.

"Looking for someone?" Pansy asked with a knowing look. When Ginny would not reply, she signaled she wanted to get a drink and dragged Ginny with her.

"You wouldn't find him on the dance floor anyway," Pansy said when they were far enough from the music to speak without shouting.

"I wasn't—"

Pansy pointedly ignored her. "Ever since the war ended, Draco can't stand loud music and crowds in confined spaces," she explained blandly before turning to the bartender to order two glasses of Gin and Tonic.

Ginny frowned. She did not know that. Draco never said anything to that effect; however she had to admit the possible truth to Pansy's words. Ginny did not think much of it when it happened, but Draco always walked a little bit faster in crowds, stayed a little quieter in loud places, and he made excuses when she asked him to dance with her during the party. Not that any of that mattered, given the mess that was between them.

"I wouldn't find him here because he's ignoring me like a coward," Ginny returned coolly, sensing there was no point in lying under Pansy's piercing gaze.

Pansy snorted in amusement. "You do realize courage is not a Slytherin quality, right?"

"I know that," Ginny snapped—and she did—she just also knew Draco could be decisive, selfless even, when he wanted to be. "I'm not asking him to risk his life, I just want to talk to him."

"It's his Slytherin self-preserving instinct kicking in, I'm afraid," Pansy said as her lips tilted into a half smile. She handed Ginny one of the Gin and Tonics. "The last time Draco and I fought, we did not talk to each other again for nearly ten years."

Ten years, Merlin. Ginny took a deep drink at the revelation.

Pansy chuckled at Ginny's look of dismay. "Don't worry, I'm sure it won't be ten years for you."

"You don't know that," Ginny huffed.

"I do." Pansy took a thoughtful sip of her glass. "Firstly, unlike me, a Gryffindor like you wouldn't let that happen, and secondly," there Pansy paused and sent Ginny a meaningful look, "Draco likes you too much to stay away."

Ginny refused to acknowledge the way her heart flip-flopped at Pansy's observation. The last thing she needed was false hope and disappointment. Feeling the need to be contrary, she opened her mouth but she was interrupted.

"Auntie Ginny!"

A blur of wavy orange hair flashed from the edge of her vision before colliding into her leg. "Rosie, what's wrong?"

"I can't find mummy and daddy," Rosie cried, distraught tears flowing down her cheeks.

"I'm sure they are somewhere close by," Ginny said as she looked around her. Nothing. She scanned the room again, more carefully this time, to no avail. No Hermione. No Ron. In fact, she could not see any members of her very large family at all. She frowned. Something was strange.

She turned to Pansy. "Have you seen any of my brothers?"

"Not in the last hour."

Ginny turned to Rosie again. "Can you bring me to the last place you saw your parents?"

Rosie sniffed, nodded, and took Ginny's hand.

"I'll come with you in case you need a second pair of eyes," Pansy offered.

Ginny nodded her thanks and the two of them followed Rosie across the room. It was not Hermione to abandon Rosie at a party like this. Something was odd. Something was… They were out of the hall and walking down the stairs. "Rosie, where are we going?"

"The door at the back. That's where I last saw mummy and daddy."

A sense of foreboding rose within her. Hermione and Ron would never leave her party without saying good bye to her first. And even if they did want to leave why would they leave through the back exit? Her mind suddenly jumped to the worst case scenario. She quickened her steps until she was almost running, her hand at her wand, and pushed opened the wooden door, and…

"Surprise! Happy Birthday, Ginny!"

Her family and close friends were standing in front of her, champagne flutes in hand.

Her mind blanked. "What… what is this?"

Beside her, Rosie dried her crocodile tears and started to giggle.

"You were…" she looked up just in time to see Rosie dash into Hermione's arms while George and Ron high-fived each other.

She felt a hand on her shoulder pushing her gently forward. "Welcome to your real party, Ginny," Pansy drawled. Ginny did not need to look to know she was smirking.

She finally recovered enough from shock to absorb the scene around her. Underneath floating lanterns that lit the garden like stars, amidst familiar laughter and voices that drifted in the summer air, was a long table with all the people she loved and an empty chair waiting just for her. This was the nice, intimate dinner with her close friends and family she wanted.

She felt her eyes moisten as she made her way to her seat at the center of the table.

Her mother passed her a champagne flute, and Ron called out for a speech. She smiled and gave an exasperated grunt. "I'm speechless. You guys got me good. I didn't suspect a thing. This is really nice. Thank you, to whoever planned this and made this happen." She looked around at the beautiful floating lanterns and the spread of her favorite food on the table. There was a little bit too much attention to detail for this to be the handiwork of her brothers. "Is this your doing, Hermione?"

Hermione grinned and shook her head. "It's really a team effort. I was in charge of day of coordination, your parents cooked the food, your brothers took care of getting you here, and Theodore and Blaise donated the alcohol and music. But credit where it's due, the real mastermind was Malfoy."

She could feel warmth in the pit of her belly that had nothing to do with the warm night. Her eyes instantly darted around the table, searching, hoping—

"He couldn't make it tonight," Blaise piped at the far end of the table. "He's in New York closing the LS acquisition deal, but he did make you this before he left last night." He waved toward the large three-tier chocolate cake with raspberry buttercream sitting a little to her right.

Loud murmurs of skepticism and amazement made its way around the table about the origin of the cake, but Ginny hardly heard them. All she heard was her thumping pulse as she stared at the cake.

Draco baked her a cake. Draco baked her a chocolate cake.

Her heart constricted as she remembered how their argument started with Draco spending a little too much time in the chocolate aisle. She thought he was just being his eccentric and snobbish self. It never occurred to her that he was secretly planning her a cake, and of course he did not explain his intentions either because (she could almost hear this in Draco's sarcastic voice), that was not how a surprise worked.

That stupid idiot, she screamed in her head, but could not muster enough fire within herself to be truly angry.

He would not talk to her but he baked her a cake, he stayed away but he planned her a party. Where did all this leave them? What did this all mean? She laughed out loud because the alternative was to cry and that simply would not do.

She looked around the room and raised her champagne flute. "Well, shall we get this party started?"

Ginny made it through the party, enjoyed herself even. There were charms to having a good meal with friends and family that even the constant nagging ache in her chest could not abate. Ginny was careful to not drink herself to oblivion, but it was hard to not overindulge when there was such a great quality and quantity of alcohol in front of her. She had enough sense to announce her plan to call it a night at eleven-thirty before someone could convince her to go to an after party. She meant to go home alone, but Hermione ignored her objections, put Ron and George in charge of clean up, and made it her mission to escort her home.

They were mere feet from the Apparition point when she saw at the corner of her eyes a blur of movement. She turned and watched as a brown eagle owl swooped silently in front of her carrying a green envelope. The owl gracefully landed on a low bush next to her, and gave her a regal nod. It had been a few months since she had seen the owl, but she recognized the pattern on the owl's wings instantly. Her heart lurched. "Morgana."

She felt Hermione's curious eyes on her as she shakily untied the envelope from Morgana's leg.

"A friend's owl?"

"Draco's," she croaked.

Hermione's raised an eyebrow. "That's a different owl than the one he contacted us with."

"Morgana's his work owl," Ginny explained distractedly, her throat suddenly felt scratchy. She ripped the envelope open but hesitated to pull the card out. She had waited for days for a note from Draco, but now that it was in her hand, she found herself less eager about knowing the content. She had asked for an answer. And now the party, the cake, the work owl, all suddenly felt like something Draco would do to say good bye. What if it was?

"You don't want to read it?" Hermione asked with a confused frown. "Do you want privacy?"

Ginny managed to shake her head. It was actually comforting to have Hermione close by, in case she needed a shoulder to cry on. She reached into the envelope and slowly pulled the plain white card out. The air felt like tar in her lungs as she forced herself to breathe, to stay composed. Gathering her courage, she flipped the card open and willed herself to read.

Ginny,

Happy Birthday. I hope the cake was to your taste and I trust Hermione and your brothers successfully pulled off the party. I'm sorry to miss the festivities.

Draco

The main body was frustratingly distant, almost business like, but on different ink and written in evident agitation at a later time was the following post script:

I don't plan to ignore you forever, Ginny, but I am a self-preserving coward. The truth is, I volunteered to finalize the deal in New York because I wanted to avoid a confrontation in front of your brothers and your friends. I'll find you when I return to London early next week, and we can talk for as long as you would like.

Draco did not specify the day when he would return to London nor a time when he was going to find her, but Ginny concluded "early in the week" meant sometime before mid-day Wednesday, and Draco would probably not try to find her until Wednesday or Thursday night. She was thankful summer training camp was going to start in two weeks' time and she had her pre-camp daily fitness regime to keep her mind from imagining the infinite ways her meeting with Draco could go later in the week.

Tuesday was endurance day and her regime started with a 21km run first thing in the morning. It was going to be a hot day, so Ginny decided to start the run at 6am sharp to avoid the heat. She ran along the east side of River Thames and up to Canary Wharf before heading back on the North side, past Tower of London and Inner Temple Garden. She was sweat drenched, sore, and ready to eat a horse when she finally ducked back into Diagon Alley. There was nothing like a 21km run to clear her brain, and all Ginny could think about as she made her way toward her apartment building was how much she wanted a shower and that if she was quick she could get to the café across the street before 9am and take advantage of the early bird breakfast special. She hummed as she pulled out her key.

"Good morning, Ginny," said a familiar voice behind her.

She jumped and before her brain could really process a logical next move, Draco made his way up the steps and stood next to her.

She was not coherent when she spoke. "Where did—when—I thought—I mean—" Ginny took a deep breath to gather herself. "How did you know to wait for me here?"

"I remembered you telling me how you exercise first thing in the morning as part of your pre-training camp routine around this time last year, and I thought it's a bit early for the floo network, but if I wait around the front door, maybe..." Draco trailed off and gave a sheepish shrug. "Honestly, the plan seemed more logical in my mind then when I said it out loud."

"It was not that crazy if I'm right here."

She took the opportunity to take a better look at him. Draco was dressed in business formal clothes: a long black dress robe with a light green dress shirt and dress pants underneath. He had a Muggle suit jacket in one hand and a leather suit case in another. He looked tired and uncharacteristically disheveled. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at his neck, his dress pants were creased, and his short blond hair was slightly tussled. "Long night?"

Draco snorted. "If by 'long night' you mean a marathon 12-hour meeting followed by a formal dinner and a mandatory social with business partners and coworkers that I didn't manage to slip out of until 1am, then yes, it was a long night."

She considered his words and did a little mental time conversion. "You just got back to London and you came straight here," she concluded. She tried her best to be nonchalant with mixed success.

Draco nodded as he fretted with the button on his shirt. "Is this," he begun but hesitated for a moment before continuing, "a good time to talk?"

Ginny nodded decisively. She had not expected the visit and she was not ready per-se, but she was not going to risk Draco having second thoughts and avoiding her again until Merlin knows when. "I need fifteen minutes to shower and get out of this," she gestured at her mismatching shirt and running shorts that clung uncomfortably to her skin. "Then we can talk."

Ginny rolled her eyes when Draco suggested he would wait outside. She grew up with five brothers, she simply did not see an issue with showering while he waited in the living room. She opened the door and pulled him in, "Come on. If you want you can take a power nap on my couch."

Draco didn't end up taking a power nap on her couch. She knew because when she came back out from the restroom there was a healthy portion of scrambled eggs, fried ham, and toast on the dining table. A floating teapot was in the process of pouring steaming tea into her mug, and her stove, along with the used frying pan and spatula, were scrubbing themselves clean with whatever cleaning spell Draco used.

She had known for months that Draco did not have house elves at his flat because they were too conspicuous in a Muggle building. She also knew for a fact he could bake, and was proficient in cleaning spells. Yet, somehow, every demonstration of domestic skills still took her by surprise. She had such a hard time wrapping her mind around the fact he would condescend to step in the kitchen and cook breakfast, she found herself staring at him, her mouth gaping.

"It's just eggs and ham," Draco said mildly from his chair.

She recovered enough to sit down. The smell of food instantly reminded her of exactly how hungry she was. She wasted no time to pile food on her plate and shovel scrambled eggs into her mouth.

"You know, no one is fighting you for the food," he deadpanned, his eyes glinting in silent laughter.

She blinked. "You're not eating?"

Draco sipped his tea and shook his head. "It's 3:00am in New York. I'm not hungry. I just figured you would want food after your run."

It was not fair. How could he cook breakfast just for her and act like it meant nothing? Ginny had promised herself to stay composed and unassuming, but how was she supposed to do that when he was being so attentive? Suddenly, she was not so hungry any more.

"Something's wrong?"

Ginny put down her fork and sat up. If Draco wanted to stay friends, perhaps it was time to rip the gauze off the wound, have the conversation, and clearly lay down boundaries. "You shouldn't be so nice to me if you want to be just friends, Draco. If you keep doing this I'm going to misunderstand." He never asked for an apology, and perhaps he did not even think one was necessary, but some things should be, needed to be, said out loud even if it was not asked for: "Also, there's no excuse for what I said that night. I'm sorry."

"You weren't wrong though," Draco said pensively, his eyes on his mug. "I do hesitate before I take action. I'm scared. I've already made one atrocious decision in my life that I'm still paying for, will never stop paying for. And…" He broke off and his grip around the mug tightened until she could see the white of his knuckles.

Ginny was not sure he would continue, but a piece of ham and a few forkfuls of eggs later, he did. "You're not just a friend to me. How can you be? My life had been stagnant for years and then you showed up and before I knew what was happening you made it move again. I like you more than I thought I could, more than I think I should. But the deeper the attachment grows, the more I'm terrified," he paused and swallowed thickly. "All I can think about is that if I take another step, I may—I will—screw up so badly you'll end up hating me forever."

She couldn't hold her tongue anymore. "And how exactly are you planning to screw up?" she asked gently, she stood up and made her way to his side of the table and sat down in the chair next to him. "From my point of view, you've already done your best to make me hate you: you were an arrogant jerk-kid that looked down on me and my family, you fought on the side of an evil sociopathic overlord during the war, and you lied about who you were for over half a year when we met again." There, Draco avoided her eyes and grimaced, but Ginny ignored his discomfort and pressed on. "You've done all of that, but I'm still here."

He drew a loud shaky breath. "You're too forgiving."

"Maybe, but you deserve forgiveness, Draco."

He shook his head bleakly. "A lot of people would disagree." He leaned back in his chair and combed his hair with his fingers. "There are shops and restaurants and pubs where I'm unwelcome. There are still people on both sides that despise me enough to confront me on the street to give me a piece of their mind."

Ginny remembered the tired exasperation on Draco's face when she spilled coffee on him so many months ago, how unsurprised he seemed. "They spill coffee on you?"

Draco sighed. "The unimaginative ones do. The imaginative ones sometimes do worse. It's generally non-life threatening, nothing a healing spell or cleaning spell couldn't fix, but it's inconvenient and embarrassing." He sounded a little detached, like he was describing things that happened to someone else. "There are reasons why I prefer to meet up in Muggle areas, why I prefer to go to crowded areas of wizarding London in disguise, and why I sometimes set up wards around us when we hang out."

"You put up wards around us?" she asked, frowning, her mind reeling from the thought Draco thought wards were necessary.

Draco gave a dismissive shrug. "Non-intrusive wards, designed to passively keep people from looking our way, whenever we were in crowds or unfriendly neighborhoods in wizarding London. They have a way of zapping my energy, so I use them only when necessary," Draco explained before adding with a small smile: "They also have the added advantage of keeping us out of photographs."

Ginny was fairly sure Draco was overreacting, she never felt unsafe next to him. Then she remembered Murton and last December and she suddenly felt less certain. A tingling of fear traveled down her spine as she conceded that he wasn't acting out of sheer paranoia, but the fear never took root. She had always been optimistic; she had witnessed with her own eyes the general goodness of humanity and she truly believed that the majority of people were decent at the heart. She had believed that for twenty-eight years and she wasn't going to stop believing in that now. "If you're hoping to scare me away, then you would be disappointed," she told him. "I dated Harry for over eight years, straight out of war. You can't tell me he didn't have enemies."

"He did, but he's also the hero that defeated the Dark Lord. He has a world full of supporters who are looking out for him to make sure nothing bad happens to him or to you," Draco returned, his voice increasingly frustrated that she wasn't understanding his point. "I'm a Malfoy, the cowardly villain who happily kissed the Dark Lord's feet and switched side when it was convenient. Understandably, I don't enjoy the same protection."

There it was again: that immobilizing pessimism, that inability to see options that were obvious to her. "I don't care. Or at least I can afford to not care because I have a very large protective family, close friends in the ministry, thousands of admiring fans, and I have you." She remembered how much blood pooled underneath him that December day and her voice cracked. "You wouldn't let anything happen to me."

Draco made a noise as if to object, but even he was not hypocritical enough to do so when he had scars to prove otherwise.

She reached for his hand and was pleasantly surprised to find no resistance. "Look, don't you investment bankers always say if there's no risk there's no return?"

"You're too stubborn," he muttered wearily.

"And you're too resigned," she shot back.

"This may not end the way you want."

"Even so," she replied without hesitation, "I want to give us a shot." Her last relationship failed after eight years. There was no guarantee that would not happen again, but the bottom line, she realized, was that despite knowing the obstacles, Draco was worth the risk.

She waited until she could catch his eyes before she asked: "Am I worth the risk?"

He looked at her for a long moment. Then, he brought his free hand to her chin. She held her breath as he traced a finger across her cheek. "Of course you are…"

Her heart sank as he trailed off. She was old enough to read between the lines. "But?" she choked out.

"No. I'm not saying no," he clarified urgently and grabbed onto her shoulder before she could shrink away. "You said I don't know what I want. That's not true. I do want a relationship with you, but I also believe some things work out better when I ask for permission first and wait until the time is right. There are actions I must take to prove my worth to the world, to better my reputation until we're a suitable match, and make sure your family and friends don't think you give and give and get nothing in return."

Ginny opened her mouth to argue that relationships were not about give and take, and other people's opinions did not matter, but Draco interrupted her before she could. "I have no doubt you can survive any critiques from anyone, Ginny, but I know from first-hand experience that what other people say does in fact sting. Give me time, let me do what I can to minimize the noise. I want to give us the best chance possible."

It was impossible to not consider his request seriously when he was being so genuine and earnest. "How long?" she asked because waiting indefinitely was not an option.

"Six months. That's how long it takes to run a proper PR campaign. I'll use the LS acquisition as an anchor and go from there. I may not be able to convince everyone, but I'll convince enough to make a difference."

She felt breathless at how quickly he gave the answer and how confident he was of his plan. "You've put thought into this."

"This was all I could think about in the last eleven days," Draco admitted with a sheepish look. The hand on her shoulder slipped up to the back of her head. "Will you allow me six months?"

There was a glint in his eyes that she had never seen before, a glint of hope mixed with determination and purpose. She nodded slowly. "Six months," she permitted.

He pulled her forward and leaned in to kiss the two sides of her cheeks. "Not a day longer."

December 2009

Draco's flat was unexpectedly quiet when she stepped out of the fireplace.

She checked the clock on the wall just to double check she had not somehow gotten the time wrong. She did not. It was nine thirty-five, a good five minutes later than their agreed upon meeting time.

She crossed the living room and into the kitchen. There was an empty coffee mug and a half-eaten croissant on the counter but no sign of Draco. She stepped back out and into the living room, about to give in and call Draco's name when she noticed it: the oddness of the light trickling in from window, not the dull grey that flowed in during London's frequent cloudy days, but not quite the warm yellow that flowed in on the occasional sunny days either. She turned toward the windows overlooking the balcony. Her jaw dropped. The familiar skyline was covered by an unfamiliar layer of white, but as magnificent as the view was, that was not what caught her eyes.

What did catch her attention were the flakes that floated down the sky onto the balcony floor.

It was snowing, except it was more… shimmery.

She almost tripped over the ottoman on her way toward the balcony. She ignored the sharp contrast of the temperature as she swung open the door and ran outside. The recognizable tingle of magic dispelled any doubt in her mind that what she was seeing was magical in nature. "Draco?"

"Hello, Ginny."

She swung her head toward the voice to find Draco standing behind a table with a green crystal and something that looked like a magic circle. She gaped at him. She was not entirely sure how she missed him before.

"Passive ward," Draco explained, reading her mind. "Don't want my neighbors to notice anything strange."

She nodded distractedly as she watched a glittering snowflake—or whatever this was—fall and land on the palm of her hand. The flake was cool to the touch and in the intricate shape of a snowflake, but it was the wrong color and maintained its shape even after she turned it around in her hand a few times. "Is this…" She was not very familiar with the details of alchemy, but she was sure alchemy dealt with transmuting metal, not something like snow. Yet, with every moment she was getting more convinced whatever was falling in her hand was in fact: "Gold?"

He stepped toward her, his feet leaving golden foot prints as he neared. "I wouldn't know until further tests, but it certainly looks like gold, doesn't it?" He stopped a few feet from her and opened his hand and watched the flakes fall. "Muggle science said all elements are made of atoms, and with enough energy—as we know, magic is a form of pure energy—atoms can combine and form into different elements. It appears they may be correct."

"Oh," she said, rather ineloquently, her mind still playing catch up to process what she was seeing and hearing. It took her a good thirty seconds before she could form a proper question. "Is this your new retirement plan?"

He chuckled. "Only if I want to be die poor." He waved over at the general direction of the alchemy setup. "I had to siphon my magic for nearly half a year to create the energy required to maintain the spell for fifteen minutes. It will maybe give me thirty galleons worth of gold, barely enough to cover the raw material. I just wanted to test out my hypothesis and…"

He broke off and took a step toward her. His grey eyes twinkling as the sides of his lips titled upward, lightening his features until he looked so boyish and sly she felt her breath leave her. "I thought golden snowflakes looked nice on you."

Her face flushed in spite of the cold weather. She was fairly sure he was referencing the dress she wore at Astoria's charity dinner. It was the only time they saw each other in the past three weeks though they had only five minutes together before the Minister of Finance whisked him away. Her schedule was hectic with all the mandatory pre-Christmas functions, and his was somehow even worse than hers now that the goblins had given him more responsibility in the bank and his PR campaign had started to take effect.

She decided the only logical course of action was to tease him back. "Witch Weekly may have to add 'shameless flirt' to 'investment genius, philanthropist, and man of the hour' in their next issue."

"I certainly hope not," he said with a grimace. "Their last coverage was embarrassing enough."

She smirked. "I saved a copy so I could put it up on my wall later."

"Don't you dare."

A string of laughter rumbled in her throat. It's been too long since they got to banter. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," he said and her heart fluttered at the tenderness of his voice. "And here, before I forget…" He reached inside his jacket for a long rectangular box and held it toward her.

"What is this?" The box looked suspiciously like a jewelry box. She was not one of those women who cared about traditions but she felt her pulse quicken nevertheless.

"A gift. I am fairly sure even you grew up celebrating Christmas," he quipped.

She took the box in her hand, fingered the green wrapping paper, and hesitated.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Open it."

She steadied her breath, unwrapped the paper with care, and slid open the box. A pearl necklace with emerald encrusted gold set with intricate designs peeked into view. Ginny was no expert in jewellery, but even she could tell the necklace was expensive and old, and as odd as it sounded, looked Malfoy. "I can't… this is…"

"It's just a necklace. Completely non-magical in nature. Just something I thought would look nice on you at stuffy parties with a formal dress code."

"That's not the point, Draco. This is obviously an heirloom. You can't just give away something like this."

"I can," Draco replied, his eyes, laden with meaning, never left hers. "Because this will be yours one day or another."

Her breath hitched his words. This could not be a proposal, but the implications were clear.

"If you want it," Draco added hastily, his smooth voice rough around the edges. "And if you—"

She swallowed tears as feelings—overwhelming, and indescribable—washed over her. All she could think about was how he felt the same as she did, how much she wanted to spend her future with him, and how absolutely wonderful the world was. She laughed, turned around and pulled her hair up so he had clear access to her neck. "I think you should put this on for me."

The warm affection in the smile that spread across his lips could thaw the coldest winter. He picked up the necklace from the box, undid the clasp, and leaned in. She shuddered when his fingers graced the back of her neck, burned into her skin as he placed the necklace on her and closed the clasp.

"There. A perfect fit," he said, his voice raw. Whatever latent concentration required to maintain the spells broke. The hum of magic around them quivered and dissipated. The flakes falling around them reverted back to white, regular snow. "I'm so glad I met you again."

For a moment, neither of them moved. At the back of her mind, Ginny wondered if Draco was tempted to break the rules they had established for their six months break and kiss her. A small part of her wanted him to, but the wiser part of her was glad when he stepped back, reached for her hand, and settled for a kiss on her knuckles. "Not yet," he said with a hint of regret.

"But soon?"

"Soon," he promised. He adjusted his hold on her hand and laced their fingers together.

Ginny smiled and Draco smiled back.

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A/N: Sorry this last chapter took longer than expected. I ran into a serious author's block, went of vacation, and then work proceeded to kick my sorry arse. Anyway, thank you for sticking with me until the end, and thanks for all those nice notes of encouragement you left me along the way.

P.S. I know this may not be the ending you are looking for, but I ended the story where I did because I truly feel that from here on out those two will get along just fine because Draco had finally grown and healed enough to have a healthy romantic relationship. The core story brought Draco to a point where he could be a good friend to Ginny. The epilogue got Draco to a point where he can be a good boyfriend to Ginny. The journey is what interested me, not so much the destination, so here we are.

For those of you looking for a less subtle ending, just know that a year after this last scene, Draco does actually propose. And Ginny says yes.

P.P.S. I stupidly joined this year's exchange, so you will see another Draco/Ginny story from me again in a couple months. Also, if you're curious, this is how I imagine Draco in this story (remove all the spaces and imagine it's Ginny sitting next to him instead of Hermione) littlechmura . tumblr post / 172903487168 / fanart-friday-the-winner-of-this-month-drawing