RATED: T
STATUS OF RELATIONSHIP: You can decide :)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I LIKE GINNYBASHING. IT'S A FAVORITE PAST TIME OF MINE. :( Please don't kill me. I actually liked Ginny; she was one of my predominantly favorite girl chars in HP. But sorry Ginny, Draco's prettier than you any day. :(

H/D corrupts, I tell you.

018Keeping a Secret

Pensive

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Ginny Weasley was having a very good day.

Well, technically, every day with Harry Potter was a good day, because, you see, Ginny was very convinced Harry would be popping a proposal any time now. They had done everything to lead up to it – hell; Harry had even mentioned rings once in their conversation, and what type she liked and diamond sizes and enchantments and etcetera. Such talk made her jumpy and happy, but most of all, a little expectant as well. He himself had a very attractive silver band that he kept on his left hand, middle finger – Harry never told her the reason for it, but it looked good with him so Ginny had learned to not ask – couples needed to have a few secrets. She bustled around the house happily, making sure the pots were cleaning themselves and the place was at least acceptably clean. She didn't like the notion of dustless perfection, but having an eating area that didn't make her gag every time she stepped into it was a good idea too.

The doorbell rang, and the woman perked slightly. They weren't expecting anyone, were they? Maybe it was another one of Harry's presents – he sometimes bought spontaneous gifts for her.

She went to the front door and opened it, expecting some sort of owl tapping at the window or something equivalent.

Instead, she got Draco Malfoy.

They started at each other for a few seconds – Ginny was speechless with shock.

"Umm… Weasley… you're home," he started, suddenly looking a little sheepish. "Is Potter around?"

Ginny shook herself, instead, opting to scowl. "Why?"

"I need to have a word with him." Replied the former Slytherin coolly, regaining his composure.

"Are you sure he needs to have a word with you?" asked Ginny, feeling a thread of contempt snaking into her voice. Although Malfoy hadn't done anything particularly malicious to her – except for that comment in her first year in Flourish and Blotts, which she wrote off as foreshadowing anyways – she knew he had harassed her brother, Harry and Hermione much more, and found it a little hard to be civil to Malfoy, especially since he seemed to have randomly apparated at their door.

"I'm sure." Said Draco shortly, raising a thin brow at her. "Lack of common courtesy runs in the blood, I see."

Ginny stiffened, but decided to let it go. She frowned and grudgingly opened the door wider. "Would you like to come in?"

"It'd be a pleasure," replied the man with a smirk as he walked in and slipped off expensive shoes, seating himself on the loveseat in their living room, admiring (or perhaps cringing at, one could never tell with him) the décor.

The redhead climbed the stairs and shouted, "Harry! Malfoy's here to see you!", but hoped he couldn't hear her message through his shower, before descending back downstairs. She gave Malfoy a painful smile before offering some treats, which he disdainfully refuses.

"Tea, then?" asked the woman, trying again.

Draco looked thoughtful for a second; tea sounded rather nice actually.

"Earl Grey please, with a squash of lemon if you have it."

Ginny went to the kitchen to prepare it, tempted to add some nasty potions or veritaserum into the mix, but decides against it; Malfoy could probably detect it, being the snake he is.

She hands him the cup, which he takes with freezing politeness and sits opposite from him, both giving each other equally curious and condescending glances across the coffee table. Ginny notes, with alarming realization, as he sips the tea languidly, that Malfoy has a band that looks suspiciously similar to the one Harry has; it's silver and ornate and wraps around his right hand, middle finger. She didn't exactly realize what was going on – but her suspicions have been raised.

What did Harry and Malfoy have?

Ginny knew Harry's moral code, though, in and out. He was a little rash sometimes, said things that were stupid or unreasonable, but he always apologized afterwards, and she knew Harry would never cheat on her - especially not with Draco Malfoy. It wasn't right.

But looking at the man seated across her… she wasn't so sure anymore.

She doesn't like him, but no one can deny Malfoy is good looking. The blonde hair, the eyes like ice, the aristocratic features – he seemed impeccably elegant but dangerous, with an acidic tongue and a subtle, caustic temper.

Harry comes downstairs in a mad dash, fumbling with his glasses, hair still dripping and clothes plastered to his skin from lack of a towel to dry himself off. His eyes wildly scanning around…

For who?, wondered Ginny silently, Malfoy or me?

Draco sputters a little, and puts down the tea that was definitely not Earl Grey. His eyes held Harry's for a few seconds before he looked away into the teacup, trying to think about anything but Potter's eyes following him.

Harry smiled a little – something that concerns Ginny to no end – but sits down in the seat between them both.

"Malfoy," he said with disturbingly less scorn that the woman had expected, "what do you need?"

"The ministry wants your input," replied the Slytherin with a hiss as Ginny tries to collect his cup with shaking hands, "on who should be appointed the new Minister of Magic since Scrimgeour's gone. Some are even recommending you."

Harry blanched – the idea doesn't particularly appeal to him. "Are you serious? Me?"

Ginny watched them from the kitchen, wondering when Harry ever made friends with Malfoy. She didn't recall them ever speaking civilly in Hogwarts - she specifically remembered their hostility; neither could she remember a time afterwards that Harry had greeted him kindly, even after the war. Their matching rings twinkle slightly in the afternoon light, and Ginny feels a little nauseous. She can't seem to stop shaking, and her hands fiddle nervously with the wooden bracelet she received from Harry himself just a few weeks ago.

Then they rise – Ginny rushes back to the living room, afraid of missing something. Malfoy's leaving – thank Merlin, but… Harry's following?

"Harry, where're you going?" asked the redhead quizzically, trying to keep the panic from her voice. Malfoy pauses, and both of them stare at him, as if he's making an epic decision.

"To the ministry," replies Harry with a smile, and Draco grins because he knows he's lying through his teeth, but looks to his girlfriend to see if she believes it.

She smiled weakly; what else could she do? Their smiles were too intimate, too synchronized for her not to realize something, but she couldn't stop them. "Um – alright then, just be back for supper?"

Ginny hated how motherly she sounds, because it's not the tone she wants to take with her boyfriend.

They leave, and Ginny moves upstairs to the guest bedroom to watch them. The ledger in front of the porch shelters them, and she could see the two standing them for a bare second, and Ginny wonders how she became the spectator. As they step out, she watches in horror as Malfoy's lips flit across Harry's – her Harry's – and how the former Hero doesn't even blink in return, but smiles like it's a joke. They apparate away, and all she's left with is this horrible burning sensation in her chest.

She hopes it's all just a joke.

Because Harry would never ever cheat, right?

But when Harry returns to the house that night with a small, pensive smile and fingers that linger too long on the kitchen counter, Ginny knows she's been wrong all along.