Title: Snatching Love

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: T for the moment

Pairing: Canon Ginny/Harry, Draco/Astoria, future Ginny/Astoria

A/N: Currently canon and epilogue compliant, though that may change, and the timeline might be a little messed up

Summary: On the same day as a fall puts paid to Ginny Potter's burgeoning Quidditch career, she meets the woman who will shape the rest of her life- for better or for worse. Het canon pairings, and future femmeslash. Ginny and Astoria.

While Astoria was eating a silent lunch with Draco, Ginny Weasley was making a decision. It was the first one she'd made since the accident, and the most difficult one she could think of ever having to make. With the will that had never failed her, she swung herself up and forced herself to stand on bones that groaned in protest. With slow steps she hobbled to the small bathroom in the corridor and stared at herself with dull-burning horror. Her face wasn't much different. A little thinner of course, the healing had stolen the few reserves she had had of energy, but that wasn't the change. Her eyes were dead, her hair was lank and every bit of the vibrant energy that usually radiated from her was missing. She looked as though she had aged ten years in a night. With a strangled sob, she sat down on the toilet seat and stared at the floor before the rememberance of exactly what she could catch from it forced her back in front of the mirror.

Hobbling back to her room, she washed herself as best as she could with the limited resources and discovered in an overlooked bag that Harry must have brought with him, a change of clothes. Muggle ones, designed to be easy to put on and move in. With careful movements she pulled the t-shirt and hoody over her head, after her struggle with the bra, that had only been solved by her fastening at the front then wriggling it round, then into the loose skirt and flat lightweight boots. Over it all went her familiar blue coat. Her hair was too greasy to do anything with, so she braided it back tightly against her head, and wiped her face clean. Now when she looked in the mirror, she was younger than she was. A puzzled teenager stared back, and she looked away, and rang the small bell she had been given. In moments a junior Healer appeared. Moments after that a senior one appeared. He remonstrated with her, reminded her that if she left, her bed would be forfeit, told her she still needed additional care and when she remained adamant he gave up. Briefly and briskly he reiterated what she had already been told. "No Apparation of course. No travel by flu, no flying. Avoid anything strenuous at all, whether it is a Knight-bus ride, making a cup of coffee when the sugar being too high on the shelf or walking too far. No sex of course. Since you insist on being discharged immediately, I want to book you in for a further outpatient appointment." He had stared at her, as though weighing her flaws with a critical eye, judging her truthfulness, and she'd stared back, numbly, unable to ask anything, or even to nod to his comments. It was obvious to any trained eye that she shouldn't be out of bed, let alone out of hospital, but they were too busy to bother arguing with a woman who was hardly their most urgent case, and who would be swept into the care of her loving family.

That of course was where they were wrong. From the moment she had woken, Ginny had been enfolded in a dreamlike state, where nothing seemed to make sense at all, and some things made even less sense than others. Even her horror at her appearance had been strangely muted, as though it simply did not matter. Her missing wand and what the Healers told her had barely dented her calm. Only one thing got through, and that was the hurt and the grief in Harry's eyes. Even the memory of it shredded at her soul, made her want to Scourgify the stain of it away. The look in his eyes made her feel entirely helpless. She stood in the hallway and with no interest watched the people come in and out. Although St Mungos had an entrance on the Muggle world, there was a more popular entrance from Sixpence Street. Just one word to the desk staff, and her family would be here, smothering in their concern, utterly oblivious to how much she needed to be alone, away from their too bright smiles, and careful questions. Or what was far worse Harry, who had lost so much and didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve to have to see her in this state.

She couldn't stand the thought for even a moment, and gradually her eyes fixed on the muggle entrance. It couldn't do any harm surely to not go back straight away. Digging her hands deeper into her pockets, she encountered her purse, with the never touched emergency Muggle money, two notes with £10 emblazoned on each. She had no idea what the exchange rate was, but surely there was enough for a cup of coffee, and a bus back. She had always been excellent with direction, and finding her way back here would be easy.

The next moment she had left, finding herself on a busy muggle street, with shoppers who barely glanced at the ill looking young woman who stood there looking rather frightened. She'd forgotten just how loud the Muggle world was, and it entirely disorientated her. After perhaps three minutes of walking, her legs began to give out from under her, but grimly she forced herself to continue walking until she saw something that looked even vaguely like a coffee shop. It was a long hard haul, with frequent rests but eventually she was ensconed in a window seat, with something she'd been impatiently told by the rude woman behind the counter, was a latte when she asked for coffee with milk. The old Ginny Weasley would have cut the woman down to size with a few biting words, but the new Ginny was already learning that from now on effort would have to be consciously weighed and thought over before being expended.

Astoria herself was puzzled at the moment. She'd grown rather used to the life she was leading at the moment. It was a life she had always known that she might lead- full of the finer things in life, gourmet food, exquisite belongings, gorgeous clothes and social prestige within her own circle. She had never really expected it to be this empty. Draco was always away, doing whatever it was that he filled his days with- mostly managing the resources that kept the money coming in, and she had gradually discovered that boredom couldn't be cured by the endless rounds of decorating and organising and running a household that didn't need her. She'd grown up in the faded grandeur of a pureblood home, an ancestral manor with one ancient house-elf, always aware that Greengrass had been a great name, that in her line were men and women that had shaped the world, but also equally aware that their time was past. That with every year the gold threaded drapes grew barer, the velvet upholstered chairs shabbier, and the portraits grew quieter. Her father a prolifigate wastrel, her mother an upright burning eyed wraith of a woman whose hands were chapped and sore from the work she did alongside her house-elf. And when she and Daphne were small they had helped in their own way, learned their lessons at the skirts of a woman of tenacious spirit, and who had taught them that marrying well was their first duty. That once they were married they could do as they wished, as pureblood witches always did, but that such latitude required money.

And Draco of course had been the prize, the prize she had been surer of her sister Daphne carrying off than herself. Daphne was prettier, but she was also engaged. In the end she and Draco had seen something in each other that made them recognise that while they might not find love, they could definitely find friendship.

And then Ginny Weasley had appeared and upset everything that Astoria had believed. As pureblooded as Astoria herself, if not with the same impeccable lineage, and though certainly the Weasleys had never had the eminence the Greengrasses had once possessed, they were also of very decent stock. And there she had been, sitting in a hospital bed, her body shattered and her eyes empty. Something of the unfairness of it itched at her (and imagine that; a Slytherin caring about fairness) that the beautiful redhead in her year, had been so crushed. She twitched her shoulders uncomfortably, but allowed the silence to continue. This was ridiculous, it really was. She didn't care about Ginny Weasley, never had, never would. So Why was she feeling the urge to find her?

If she'd known the right person to ask, she'd have had the answer sooner. Even if she'd asked Draco, described the peculiar itching sensation in her hands, and down the line of her back, the small still voice that was telling her with an implacable urgency to go to Ginny Weasley, he might have been able to tell her. Explain the smallest bit about that area of magic which Voldemort himself had only ever been able to take a glimpse of. The world of magic that lay outside of any wizard or witches comprehension, the arcane boundaries of life debts, blood debts and the various complicated arcane rules that governed those bonds between people- bonds as varied as the marriage ritual, or as important as cutting the tie between a mother and her new baby.

When one wizard or witch saved the life of another, it was not as simple a matter as a life debt existing. If that was the case then every Healer would have a multitude of life debts attached on them, and there would have been certain unscrupulous people who would have set up dangerous situations then 'saved' whoever wandered by in order to gain a hold over that person's soul. The magic itself seemed to assume where there was a lifedebt, and how heavy it could make that burden. Draco still owed one to Harry Potter, as his went it wasn't so bad. She and he both knew that if the call came, he would have to go. That it was possible one night he would wake, summoned by an urge only he could feel, called by a force that Harry Potter probably wouldn't even be aware of to do or be somewhere. A similar force existed between Narcissa Malfoy and Harry Potter, but it was a thin thread, not easily snapped, but more easily ignored. A life debt was not cancelled by saving someone's life in return necessarily, there had been cases recorded in which it simply meant that a second bond existed. Usually most of the time a life debt could be snapped by a service rendered at a time of need, though a certain willingness to help was necessary.

But sometimes threads could be crossed. A life-debt or a bond formed, might be superseded or changed . And something that was one moment only one of the many ties that held you to the world could without your consent or knowledge become the most important thing in the world to you. It was odd that Astoria who had never thought that she would be one of those people, one of those people that was different from the standard run of humanity would have such a thing happen. That what should have been if a life-debt at all, simply a rather standard tie, had mutated. A tie that Ginny Weasley should have felt, had been extended to her, and even at this moment the nagging unease that she felt could be explained by Ginny Weasley wandering alone in Muggle London.

But she didn't know this. Nor did she know who to ask, and so the peculiar feeling in the back of her mind continued. Breaking with tradition of small-pence the money that whichever member of the family was the heir, doled out to the rest, Draco had shown his peculiar trust in her, by letting her use what she wished, even setting aside a vault for her own expenditure. There was a small feeling of glee still at being able to go and simply buy whatever she wanted. Not having to scrimp and save, like she had throughout her childhood. Not having to reuse Hogwarts robes freshened by household charms year after year, and to ignore the fact that Pansy Parkinson who didn't have one tenth of the honour of the Greengrasses, was dressed with ten times the amount of money. Now it was different. Pansy was struggling to marry- acceptably wealthy, elegant, talented, handsome male purebloods were apparantly too thin on the ground these days, and Pansy would never consider perhaps dropping a few qualifications, though the engagement with Blaise Zabini still lingered on, it now seemed to be mutually understood that the marriage would never take place if either of them found someone better.

After a silent meal, Draco adjourned back to his office, and Astoria, a heavy feeling still remaining in the pit of her stomach wandered Diagon Alley, until it began to get dark and cold. If she hadn't been so alone, or so bored, or so off-centred from her encounter at the hospital, she might have not bothered going to visit Ginny Weasley again. But it was a sudden impulse. She wouldn't talk to the other woman or even let her know that she had passed. But it would only be the courteous option to return the wand that had unthinkingly been scooped up from where it lay battered on the ground, beside Ginny Weasley's equally battered body. She had no memory of picking it up, but a sense of curiousity impelled her onwards. And when Healers looked at her with astonishment when she asked where Ginny Weasley was, she also felt a mild sensation of fear, as well as an impotent desire to scream. What was the medical profession coming to these days, when they let a still healing patient walk out the door with more than likely no money, certainly no wand, and judging from the account of the on-duty porter straight into Muggle London. And for that matter where was her smotheringly overprotective family when she could most have done with them?

Astoria had never been into Muggle London unaccompanied, and only ever once with someone else. She had been horrified at it, the noise and the smell, the sheer amount of people crowding every pavement. It was a world away from the small wizarding enclaves, gracious Manors and singular houses she was used to. It had frightened her, and sickened her. She would be mad even to attempt finding Ginny Weasley in such a place, and for such a motive as simply to return a wand. So when she found herself on the street outside St Mungos, she cursed herself for a fool. Then she started looking. The lessons that were drilled into every magical child thudded through her head. Don't look conspicuous. Hide your wand at all times. Don't ever catch someone's eye. And try to look as boring as you can. She knew at once she was failing. Tall, blond and striking, dressed in a green robe and a cloak she was drawing all the wrong kinds of looks, a lot of which were not friendly, and her skills of practical Transfiguration couldn't be used on this crowded street. She improvised, twitching her wand in a Notice-me-Not charm, and immediately the eyes simply slid over her. Most of the muggles could still see her, but she made no perceptible impact on their subconscious. She found that if she concentrated hard she could see graduations in their awareness- one small child quite openly stared at her and had to be pulled away, while a young woman in a Muggle business suit not only noticed but even seemed to recognise her, her brows creasing in a way that suggested a desperate attempt to remember. Astoria realised that these must be those with a little bit of magic deep inside, just not enough to be accepted to Hogwarts.

If she had known Ginny Weasley at all, it would have been easy to find her. She could have used one of the numerous Location charms on offer, but they ranged from needing something of the person, or at least having a strong sense of awareness about them. After more than half an hour of roaming footsore on the streets, Astoria's fear, and her disgust had subsided into something closer to interest. Muggles were interesting. It was a reluctant thought, but true. True she understood about a quarter of the things they were buying and selling and wearing, but it all seemed rather fascinating. And their clothing was fantastic. She'd covered a lot of ground and wandering down Oxford Street (in point of fact none too far from where Ginny Weasley was sitting, sipping at a coffee) resisting the urge to dare the shops. Now that would start a trend, she told herself in amusement. Astoria Malfoy in a muggle ballgown.

When she found Ginny Weasley it was as pure a stroke of luck as had ever existed, because it was Ginny who spotted her, and it was her open-mouthed astonishment that attracted Astoria's attention. And in the shock of being pulled into a Muggle loo in a coffeeshop, the awkwardness that would inevitably resurface was at least delayed. The wand she flourished, with her excuses, and minutes later, with a dexterity her mother would have envied, Ginny had transformed the green cloak Astoria wore into something that passably resembled the long winter coats that Astoria had seen Muggles wearing. Now that she had found Ginny, getting them back to somewhere she recognised was the most important thing. But when she gripped Ginny's arm in preparation for Apparation, she was startled by the touch of long fingers against her own, and silent misery on the other face. "I can't Apparate," said the other woman dully. "The Healers said it might harm my bones at the moment." There was an awkward silence. Ginny broke it first. "Thank you so much though," she said helplessly. "I hope I didn't drag you out of your way too far, just to give me back my wand."

Astoria thought about what had seemed like the miles of ground covered, in a search that had seemed ever more hopeless, then shook her head firmly. "It was... interesting," she offered, and although she didn't volunteer this to Ginny, it seemed to satisfy something as well. The annoying itch in her mind, and tingle down her back had vanished. "Now let's try and get you home." She rode roughshod over Ginny's protests. "I'm not just leaving you in Muggle London. Do you think your nerves can stand the Knight Bus? It's probably just about late enough for them to be on the route."

Fire flickered into Ginny's eyes. "My nerves can definitely stand it," she said proudly, in such a way that Astoria knew that it could cause her hell and she wouldn't say a word. Nodding, she Disillusioned them both, and stuck out her wand hand. Bribing the conductor with a handful of Galleons carelessly given, she secured his promise that they would be let out first- at Malfoy Manor. Ginny had already told her that she'd asked no-one to come to the hospital tonight, and they wouldn't expect her at home.

Turning up with Ginny Weasley in tow, was not the strangest thing she had ever done, but it was certainly one of them. The house-elf who greeted her at the door, shot her the most horrified look. "What is Mistress doing?" it asked, wringing its tiny hands. Flopsy was the most malignant of the Manor's elves. The oldest in residence, and the one least accustomed to change, she had made it clear in a hundred small ways that she thought Astoria shouldn't darken the door. With a sigh, Astoria waved her away, and summoned Honey instead. Ginny looked frightful, her skin parchment white, her few freckles standing out like daubs of colour, dark shadows etched under her eyes. Her hands were shaking with weariness, and Astoria was certain that it was only with the utmost effort that she was even still standing. She was also certain that if the other woman hadn't been so utterly exhausted, she would have declined the help offered. As it was, Astoria helped more than the elves, people who hadn't grown up with them seldom found it comfortable having a personal attendant who wasn't human. Astoria was scarcely tall, but even so the nightgown she summoned swamped Ginny, making her appear more like a flouncy cake than a girl, as she wriggled out of her clothes, and into the ready warmed guest bed. Astoria knew that it was probably richer than anything she had ever seen- the Weasley family home was by all accounts a modest affair, and the Potters were known to live simply, but the richness didn't seem to burden the young woman, and in minutes she was asleep. It was only then that Astoria remembered that Ginny Weasley didn't seem like the type of woman who read the society pages, and that she had only introduced herself by her given name. In all liklihood, she didn't even realise she was at Malfoy Manor.

It was only then that the day's essential strangeness caught up with her. Despite being entirely uninvolved in the war, and all the messy side affects of it, marrying a Malfoy and being a Slytherin had meant that even in the most periphael way, she had been aware of how she was meant to feel towards the woman completely sleeping. The woman who in her head was alternately Ginny Weasley or simply Ginny, and yet had not even for a second been Ginny Potter. A mixture of annoyance and distaste would have been right, an indication that while she knew of the service the Potters had done the wizarding world, that it didn't entitle them to respect. Yet not only had she gone far out of her way to assist someone who should have been the most distant of acquaintences- she doubted Ginny remembered sharing a Potions textbook even as vaguely as Astoria did, but she had invited them to a place that was her and Draco's retreat from the world, a serene, untroubled oasis of calm, utterly removed from the small slights Draco, and she by extension received as well- the cold looks, the minor curses and always the tightening of lips and drawing away that were too often their lot among the general populace. And though she tried half-heartedly to tell herself that she was obviously only doing it for the purposes of some plan she hadn't properly formulated yet, she knew that the real truth was a lot simpler. Boredom, curiousity and in large measure loneliness had forced her into taking direct action by reaching out to someone who she barely knew, and who would probably withdraw in horror once she realised her benefactor was Draco Malfoy's wife.

Draco was home for dinner at the usual time, impeccably dressed as was she. When she told him in a few well chosen words what had happened, he looked at her with weary amazement, but made no protest, not even a few token mutters about blood matters or imprecations against those damn Potters. She noticed how tired he looked, and in a rare moment of physical closeness, squeezed his hand. He smiled at her a little. "I can't wait to see Potter's face," he even managed to joke. "Hasn't he noticed she's gone missing yet?"

I've already written the next two thousand words. Some reviews would be rather nice, especially constructive criticism.