CHAPTER 1

The Realization That Having No Contact With A Husband You Hate May Not Be So Brilliant After All

Ginny had been staring blankly at the fireplace for a solid hour now, not that she knew it. All she knew was her mind seemed to have gone numb at some point. She couldn't help it. Every thought she had went back to wondering how in the world she had managed to get to this point. Emotionally, physically, either question would do. Then once her mind realized it had no answer to either, it would try and toss the thoughts away and the cycle would repeat. Eventually Ginny forced herself to get up and leave the sitting room. There had to be a study somewhere in this house.

Opening each door as she went down the halls, she finally found it. On a large desk were sheaves of parchment and a quill pen and ink pot. Sitting down at the desk, Ginny's knuckles began to whiten as she clenched her fists. Was she really going to do this? She hadn't written her thoughts down since she was an eleven year old girl. But that had been an evil diary, this was just parchment. And she had to do something if she ever planned to drag herself out of her shock. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the pen and began scribbling away.

Dear sheet of parchment which will soon be burned never to be read by anyone ever,

I've never thought myself to be a person who would wallow in self pity, but well, maybe I should explain a bit. See, it all started with the Marriage Laws. There was a movement to increase the wizarding population, and well it got pretty popular. See the problem is, well most wizards and witches live pretty long, accidents and violent deaths aside, so no one really noticed anything wrong with the number of magical folk before. But then this muggle-born witch did this study, claiming that the official replacement birthrate needed to be 2.1 children per woman. The average birthrate for British witches and wizards was apparently only 1.1. Not really a comfortable number for a lot of people once the report came out. The muggle world was celebrating their seventh billionth birth and suddenly every person you bumped into in Diagon Alley was having nightmares about every nook and cranny being taken over by muggles.

Even mum bought into it a bit, though really I'm rather sure it was just a nifty excuse for her to bother my brothers about grandchildren more. She only has 3 so far, two from Bill and one from Percy. Who would have ever guessed Percy would be able to fool a girl into marrying him? Thought he'd be the permanent bachelor, squirreled away with useless reports and snapping at innocent passer-bys that he was in fact crucial to the Ministry, thank you very much. Well anyways , the wizarding world was going nuts, pulling their hair over some silly report that predicted wizarding population would eventually shrink and we'd be squeezed out by the muggles who are apparently popping kids out like rabbits. At least in Africa or something. But, enough about babies. More importantly, the Ministry hooked onto the idea and commissioned a committee to investigate the reasons. Then their report came out, citing lack of marriages as the largest correlating factor to the low birthrate.

Which would have been fine but the Ministry looked at the population demographics, found out the median age for a witch to marry was 40 – some of us do live to 140 years old, it's not like there has to be a big rush about it- and well, the Ministry went barmy. And so the Marriage Laws were passed, requiring witches between the ages of 20 and 35 to get married, and well, well it was a mess. I don't work at the Ministry and I doubt even the Prime Minister could explain what happened so let's just leave it at contracts were running around wildly, deals were being made, people were lying about being married, and in general there was chaos. I was one of the uncooperative people. I wasn't really too keen on marriage just yet. I guess I just wanted some more time to figure myself out first before I attached it to another person for the rest of my life. Anyways, the Ministry started prosecuting the quote "saboteurs" and, well I fell into that group. And do you know what they did? They assigned me a husband! As if marriage was nothing more than a potions project you get assigned a partner for!

The worst part? I might not ever have been considered a saboteur if it hadn't been for Hermione. When the law came out, I went straight to Hermione, who seemed baffled that the government could ever get away with passing laws like these. She started going on about human rights or something, which I didn't quite follow. I think it's a newer concept, which means no one on our Wizengamount has probably ever heard of it. At a guess, not a one of them is younger than 80, and none are really ones for reform and change.

I thought I could get Hermione to help me find a way to make sure I landed a great match, but she got a bit carried away with this idea of revolting against the law instead. Months of her life wasted looking at laws and policies, before she declared the Ministry autocratic, and had to give up. Not that any of this affected her since she had already married my brother. For as ridiculous as marriage laws were, they at least stopped at that. The law didn't include anything about being required to have kids; probably the Ministry's concession to the witches who protested that a woman shouldn't be punished over something that was biological and she had no control over.

Just as well that she gave it up, since really, who could oppose them? They have the dementors, aurors, unspeakables, and a dozen other types under their direct control. But by that point the Ministry had lumped me in with Hermione's efforts, so I was stuck with a Ministry that didn't want to hear another word out of me.

Of course once I found out who they were telling me to marry, I spent the next five months dreading it. Now I'm a wife and it really has turned me barmy. Why? Because I was supposed to be the outraged one! I was supposed to have exclusive rights to scream at him and insult him, and maybe even kick him when he tried to make me act like a proper wife.

Here's the kicker though. He hasn't even tried to make me do anything. ANYTHING. We didn't speak or see each other before the wedding; why in the world would I want to? Then at the actual wedding it was all this formal ceremony stuff and I could pretend to ignore him. Afterwards I immediately went to my friends and family at the reception and dreaded the moment when I was sure he'd come for me and demand we make an appearance as husband and wife. Except he didn't and once everyone had left I went into the house and he was waiting for me with a key. I had stared untrustingly at him and sneered before saying "I hope you're not under the delusion we're going on a honeymoon. If that's a key to some horrible resort you can go there yourself and never come back."

He had just tossed it at me and pointed to the fire. "No, it's a key to your house. It's a place in France. This way we never have to see each other or interact. I know contraceptives were made illegal here but you should be able to get a hold of them in France. Do whatever you want; just don't get pregnant. An illegitimate child would be a legal nightmare. You get a monthly allowance and the Gringott's key to the account will be with your stuff over there. Just say dix-sept Elvoitare Avenue into the floo." I had gaped at him and he rolled his eyes before turning away and walking away. So now I flooed here and I'm writing all this down and I still don't have the foggiest as what to do!

You are such a stupid, stupid parchment. I hate you.

With that, Ginny flung the quill down and ran her hands through her hair in frustration. How was she supposed to complain about this? She had full freedom to do whatever she wanted and live a perfectly independent, free life in France with money and a house and anything she could ever need. But she didn't want to be content and happy. It was wrong. She was Ginevra Malfoy now and this was not how it was supposed to go!

Draco was supposed to be a horrible prick that would demand she act like his wife and she would be able to retaliate and make his life awful and think of herself as a tragic victim. That was what she had envisioned for five months and now this had happened instead. It felt like the rug had been ripped out from beneath her feet. Disgusted with herself, Ginny stomped off to go find the bedroom and force herself to go to sleep. Hopefully by tomorrow her mind could catch up to things and she could be properly happy about this turn of events like any sane person would be.

The next morning Ginny awoke to find she was still tragically unable to jump around in joy like she wanted to be able to. But Heaven help her, she was not going to waste the day sitting on a couch or writing useless things on a stupid parchment. Flinging on clothes some house elf she had yet to see put in her closet, Ginny wished she had better fashion taste. Becoming Mrs. Malfoy had not changed her wardrobe as she thought it might. Apparently Draco really didn't care what she did or what she wore. Well fine then. He shouldn't care, because if he had tried to change anything she would have screamed bloody murder at him over it.

Calmed by that thought, Ginny went downstairs to find the mysterious house elf working in the kitchen cutting up cheese. "Bread and jelly are on the table Mrs. Cheese coming out soon. Do you drink juice or coffee or tea?" Ginny narrowed her eyes and yanked the cheese away from the startled elf. "I can get it myself thank you. Did Draco send you here thinking I shouldn't be allowed to cook? Because if so you can just tell him to go to.." "Oh no Mrs! Me sorry, it all my fault. You wanted to make breakfast? I sorry! I not know! I go beat meself, yes, yes I will." Ginny felt disappointment wash over her. "Oh, no sorry. Don't beat yourself. I just, um, I'll take juice. Thanks." The elf's eyes were wide and scared and Ginny couldn't really blame the thing. She had to get out of this house! She was driving herself mad.

Sitting down, Ginny ate breakfast in silence. No one to disturb her. Just like before she was married and lived on her own. Yup, it was exactly what she wanted. Of course it was. After breakfast Ginny wasted no time in getting her coat and going outside. She'd meet her neighbors. Or she'd walk into the nearest town. That was what was wrong. She just didn't know anyone yet. Her closest neighbors were a half mile away and seemed to live in an elegant little country home. How quaint. Smiling, Ginny walked up to the door and knocked. A man with graying hair and dark red robes answered the door, tilting his head to the side in puzzlement. "Qui êtes-vous?"

Ginny blinked in surprise. French, of course he was speaking French. She was in France after all. "Uh, Ginny. Je suis…" Oh dear, how did you say new neighbor in French? "Um, je suis anglais. Parlez-vous Anglais?" The man nodded slowly. "Oui, en peu. Eh, why are you…eh, here?" Ginny decide she better stick to simple sentences. "I live over there. I just got here yesterday." The man's eyes lit up in recognition and he nodded, opening the door a bit more. Motioning with his hand, Ginny took it as an invitation to enter. He smiled and nodded at her before turning around and trotting away.

Ginny stood there dumbfounded for a moment, before cautiously beginning to follow. Was she supposed to follow? She supposed so because as she stepped into the kitchen, the man was jabbering away in French to a woman who looked to be about his age and gesturing to her with a big smile. Well, at least he seemed happy. Then the talking stopped and he was just staring at her with a large smile that Ginny found just slightly discomforting. Then the woman was moving towards her and Ginny brushed the side of her robe pocket to check her wand was right there just in case.

"Welcome to France! I am Madame Rochau et zat is my 'usband. So you are ze one to buy ze house." Obviously she was the better one when it came to speaking English. "Uh, yes. Merci. I just thought I'd pop around and introduce myself." "Of courz, come sit. I make tea." Ginny was slightly startled when Monsiuer Rochau pulled out her chair for her, but she sat in it all the same. They seemed like a very sweet couple. "Have you met Roger? 'E lives over zat way. He very good with ze English. All ze young ones are now." Ginny shook her head no but tucked the information away for later. Young ones? Did that mean he was around her age? Suddenly Ginny found herself with a cup of tea in her hands that had floated its way over. Madame Rochau sat down across from her with her own cup and smiled. "Oh yes, all ze girls like Roger. You shall see! Very beautiful." Ginny found herself blushing but Madame Rochau only laughed. "Oh we have many beautiful boys here. You are ver-he lucky. We'll have you married soon enough!"

Ginny took a long gulp of tea to avoid responding. She had taken off her wedding ring dramatically during the reception and high-handedly told Luna she was not going to wear anything showing her connected to Malfoy if she could help it. The ring was still in the purse she had flung on a coffee table last night. But so what? Draco had said she could do what she wanted. In fact, he had practically told her to get a lover. Just use contraception. "I'd love to meet him. What about the rest of the neighbors? Any I should avoid?" Madame Rochau looked at her with new admiration and laughed. "Oh you are funny." Ginny smiled back and soon she was being told all about the neighborhood, that is every witch and wizard that lived within a ten mile radius of the town. Ginny thought she might like it here after all.

Then in what seemed no time at all Madame and Monsieur Rochau were escorting her to the nearest neighbor, a charming family of five. Even before they reached the door, Ginny saw there was an elderly couple sitting outside playing chess. As the Rochaus and Ginny came over, the couple looked up, smiled, and introduced themselves in French so Ginny did as well, quite proud of herself. Unfortunately she didn't know much beyond "Je m'appelle Ginny" and so when the man began speaking rapid French at her, she froze and looked over to Madame Rochau for help. Madame Rochau laughed and began explaining all about Ginny in French to them. Ginny knew so because she caught the word 'Anglais'.

Then both smiled at her and the man spoke a bit of broken English trying to greet her, while his wife went off to get the rest of the family. The couple that came out couldn't have been more than ten years older than Ginny and the woman was carrying a little baby in a sling. Ginny smiled and instinctively focused on saying "hi there" to the little head peeking out of the blankets. Then she was shaking hands and was delighted to find the young man in particular was very good at English and quite eager to speak to her.

So she told him all about being a retired Quidditch Player and having to retire at only 22 when her shoulder had been pulled too many times to allow her to make the all-star passes needed in professional Quidditch. She explained that in the year since then, she had been helping her brothers Fred and Ron with a joke shop, and he in turn told her all about his job with the French Ministry, specifically dealing with experimental potions. She was given a tour of the house, sat down in the kitchen to eat some little cakes, and then taken into the yard by the whole family to watch the little baby crawl around outside.

Then Madame Rochau was shooing her off with directions to Roger, handing her a note written in French that she couldn't read but was meant for Roger anyhow. It was late afternoon by now, and Ginny was perfectly happy with absolutely everything. Everyone was so nice! And soon she'd become more fluent in French and find a job and her life would be perfect. It took her about forty minutes to walk to Roger's and in that time Ginny really tried to imagine her life here. She could see it. Chats and visits with the neighbors, maybe starting with some low-language volunteer work until her French improved, then maybe get a job at a shop. She could learn to cook French food! She might even give bonding with her sister-in-law Fleur a stab.

Was she close to Bill and Fleur? She knew they lived somewhere northwest of Paris, many, many miles away from the crowded city of course. Fleur wanted the kids to grow up in the countryside; one of the few things Ginny could agree with her about. Kids needed fresh air and room to run. When she had children they were definitely….oh right. She wasn't going to have children. Maybe she could volunteer with something to do with kids? Plenty of time to think about that later. Where was she? Ah, yes her perfect life. And she could still floo to England and see her family of course. Sure it cost a galleon for each crossing, but all in all not bad at all. It had been a recent initiative to link the French and British floo systems, each government taxing for each international floo.

Coming to Roger's house, Ginny paused outside the door and patted her hair. Right, he probably wasn't that gorgeous anyways. She was going to trust a who-knows-how-old lady to rate a man's handsomeness? He probably had a wart or something. Nothing to be nervous about. Ginny knocked on the door and had to stop from taking a step back when it opened. Oh. He was handsome. Like, model-worthy; tall, lean, chiseled face, bright blue eyes and wavy brown hair. What was he doing living out here? He should be in the newspapers or something. "Um, Salut. Je m'appelle Ginny. Je suis votre nouveau voison." She had asked how to say new neighbor earlier and was so glad she had. He wasn't laughing at her or anything. She must have said it right.

"Ah, je m'appelle Roger. Enchante." Ginny successfully fought down her giggle as he took her hand and kissed it but she was rather positive she must be blushing something mad. "Um, Madame Rochau said you speak English well?" He let go of her hand and straightened up, his eyes gleaming at her. "Ah, you are English! Please come in, I was just starting to cook dinner. Would you like to join me?" Ginny nodded and felt like melting into a puddle. He was smiling at her and his smile was just, well it was perfect really. "Your French is very good! Where did you learn the accent?" Ginny smiled and patted down her robes. Why hadn't she paid more attention to her clothes this morning? "My sister-in-law is French. I suppose I may have picked up her accent a bit."

"Well I am very impressed! So beautiful and smart." Ginny wasn't sure she had ever felt like this before. Maybe when she was a little girl and found herself next to Harry, but that was just a maybe. She didn't even know what love was back then. Well, not really. Now though, oh she knew. Walking into the house she saw the most beautiful owl perched on the window sill. Behind her was a brick wall kitchen, a pot of soup simmering away as it stirred itself. She felt like she had entered the perfect house.

Inhaling the delicious aroma, she went over and tentatively stretched out her hand. "Hi there." The owl cocked his head and studied her for a bit before leaning its head down so as to be petted. Ginny smiled and slowly stroked the bird. "His name is Henri." Ginny's breath hitched as she realized Roger was standing immediately behind her. "Uh, oh. He's gorgeous." Oh Merlin, what was she doing? Say something intelligent! Something witty or seductive, or well anything but 'uh'.

"Are you hungry?" "Oui, j'ai faim." Ginny turned and smiled as she said it. That was one phrase she knew she had right. Her niece, Victoire, was four and loved to announce 'je n'ai pas faim!' whenever Ginny's mother tried to feed her vegetables. Roger smiled back and went to take out some bread and serve the soup. As the soup poured itself into bowls, Ginny took out her wand and levitated them over to the table. Soon the two were eating and Ginny remembered she had a letter for him. Taking it with interest, he read it and then looked up amusedly. "I think Madame Rochau believes we would make a good couple. You are not seeing someone are you? She sometimes, eh how do you say, gets ahead of 'erself." Ginny's heart was beating quickly. What was she supposed to say? Technically she was married but well, it wasn't a real relationship. And seeing someone meant dating right? She certainly wasn't dating anyone.

"Um, no I don't have a boyfriend." He smiled and Ginny found herself looking into his eyes. So beautiful. And he seemed friendly, polite, a good cook. "After dinner, would you like a tour of ze house?" Ginny nodded and throughout dinner she found out he had an older sister in Paris, liked to paint, and was currently in training to be a healer at what seemed to be the French version of St. Mungos. Levitating the dishes into the sink, he stood up and offered her his arm. "Shall we?" Ginny popped up out of her seat and took his arm with no reservations. He was perfectly polite and charming during the entire tour of the house and it was only when they ended up in the backyard when he stopped.

Releasing her arm he turned around to face her. "Ginny, I know that we just met, but em, would you like to go to town with me tomorrow?" Ginny bobbed her head up and down with a large smile and he smiled back. Then there was a long moment where they both looked into each other's eyes and then he was leaning in for a kiss. It just seemed so natural to do. Everything seemed perfect. Ginny's heart was galloping as their lips touched and then his hand came around to hold her waist lightly and Ginny gasped.

It should have been perfect. And it would have been, but she couldn't stop the nagging feeling it was wrong. Pulling away, Ginny plastered on a smile and said "This has been amazing, but I'm afraid I must go. I'll see you tomorrow?" Roger nodded. "Oui, I'll pick you up at 10." Turning to go, Ginny took a deep breath and walked away, back to her own house. Her heart was still hammering. Ignoring her elf's question of if Mrs. would like dinner, Ginny walked directly to her bedroom and laid down. What was she doing? Under any other circumstances she would be over the moon, writing to Hermione or Luna or someone about the new amazing man she had met. But instead her stomach turned with unease.

Was this right? She had no love for Draco; quite the opposite. He bullied others, was arrogant, cruel, and looked down on her in disdain. But what about Roger? Was it fair to lead him on like this? There was no hope of a marriage or kids for them. At best, he would be her lover. She cringed slightly as she thought that word. He deserved better than that.

Turning to her side, Ginny punched one of the extra pillows lying on her bed. This wasn't going to work. And not just with Roger. Any man willing to have a relationship with a married woman was not the type of guy she could see herself loving anyhow. So what? She was just supposed to remain celibate her entire life? Ginny let out a strangled scream and reached over to pick up a pillow that she then proceeded to press over her face. No. She was going to be loved and she was not going to trick any poor man into a life of being no more than a lover to be so. Tossing the pillow back onto the bed, Ginny sat up and swung herself off of her bed. If Draco didn't care to force her to act like his wife, well then she was just going to have to force him to act like her husband.