Only The Good Die Young

Her eyes were brown. Ordinary. Her skin was pale and freckly. Ordinary. She was short and slim. Ordinary. Her hair was tied up in a Grandma bun at the base of her neck. Ordinary.

Never judge a book by its cover.

He saw her trailing along behind the Golden Group. He saw ordinary. He saw easily manipulated. He saw the way to get to the Boy-Who-Lived. He obviously wasn't very smart.

~*~

He went after her when he saw the Gryffindor Quidditch team leave the stadium to head for the locker room. Perhaps he should have read the sign on the wall of the Main Entrance as he left.

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

Never tickle a sleeping dragon.

~*~

He entered the locker rooms with his perfect icy air of nonchalance.

He didn't maintain it for long.

There she was, standing before him. Her eyes still retained the sparkle of life from the speeding broom, while her muscles were easily defined underneath her uniform, still pulsing from the chase, and her skin was glowing from the exuberance of her mood. Extraordinary. His gaze finally fell upon the vibrant locks, only suddenly released from their brutal confines. Vivaciously crimson, it was as though he had been wandering in a desert of blank gray eyes, and carefully expressionless porcelain features, and someone had just dropped him in the middle of a lake. Extraordinary didn't even begin to cover it.

He still wasn't speechless by far. He remembered what he came there to do. He flattered her carefully, he played the sweet innocent card. He did the tortured son routine, that translated into the poetic soul rubbish. Finally, he played his trump card. "Frankly Ginevra, I have always been in love with you, it has merely taken the imprisonment of my father for my true feelings to emerge."

She blushed, and whispered, "Actually, Malfoy, my name is Virginia." As she scurried off, he felt something very new to him. Draco Malfoy was intrigued. Extraordinary.

Come out Virginia, don't let me wait,

I might as well be the one.

He rode his broom up to the Gryffindor Tower to fly into her window and give her a white rose. Romantic, yes? No. He crashed into an inconvenient gargoyle, and broke his nose. The rose was sat on in the resulting squabble. Ginny demurely helped him to the hospital wing to his eternal embarrassment, and it was at the exact moment that she slipped on a cotton plaid dressing gown over her orange pajamas, that he saw a rosary of all things lying on her bedside table, and decided promptly, as she used an old robe to staunch the profuse bleeding from his nostrils, that he must break Virginia Weasley out.

They showed you a statue, told you to pray,

Only the good die young!

His first real conversation happened a week after what he had termed the "Broom Incident". He was leaving the library after a hard afternoon's work of getting first years to do his homework when he saw his opportunity walking into the History section of the stacks. He sauntered after her, only to find her curiously surveying a copy of the most unlikely book ever to fall into human hands, clearly labeled, "How to Get the Quaffle in the Hoop". Draco wasn't sure if it was physically possible for one's eyes to literally bug out of one's head before this moment, but it was happening now. Little Ginny Weasley was reading porn. Tame, Gryffindoric porn, but porn nonetheless, and it hit him like a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

He grappled his brain back into position after a moment and sidled quietly up next to her so that she didn't notice him until he had lowered the book and snarkily sneered, "You know, you won't find anything useful in there, you should probably try the 'Slytherin's Handbook of Useful Stuff', at least you might find something you can use."

He decided that red hair and a blush weren't the best mix, rather gave the impression of a cooked lobster.

Virginia Weasley wasn't cracked, but she was definitely splintering around the edges.

You might have heard I run with a dangerous crowd,

Aw, but that never hurt no one.

So, come on Virginia, show me a sign,

Only the good die young!

The first time Ginny went into the Slytherin common room, Draco could feel her quivering underneath the arm that he pulled her with through the doorway. Underneath his condescending glance, she straightened up and peered around herself, appearing to be surprised at the lack of virgin sacrafices, and dead Muggles.

After two months of randomly meeting Ginny in the Library, and out of the way corridors, Draco decided that they needed someplace where they could just meet for their impromptu study sessions. Far from being the abrupt wooing and then hurtful disposal of Ginny that Draco had envisioned, it had become more of what Draco called a "Mutual Partnership In The Endeavor For Extracurricular Knowledge", and what Ginny called "Friends". The talked about everything from their lives and studies, to sex, and love. Ginny told him about the diary, while he told her about the Death Eaters, and they exchanged views on politics, World issues, and, occasionally, gossip.

The common room was the final step, and Ginny found herself to be pleasantly surprised. Her third day there, Pansy dragged her off to do her hair and make up, and after a week, she was helping Vincent with his Charms homework, and bantering friendly insults back and forth with Blaise Zabini as though she had been in Slytherin always.

Three months later, Ginny went to a Slytherin party, and got drunk for the first time.

Virginia Weasley (or Gin Rummy as Daphne liked to call her) was cracking very nicely.

You got a nice white dress and a party on your confirmation,

Oh, whoa, whoa!

The day of Ginny's sixteenth birthday was the day that she french kissed Draco Malfoy on top of the Gryffindor table in the middle of dinner. It was also the day that she punched Ron full in the face, and wrote home to her mum telling her that she was staying home for the Christmas holidays.

Virginia Weasley was cracked.

They say there's a heaven for those who will wait,

The sinners are much more fun...

You know that only the good die young,

Only the good die young!

Virginia Weasley lost her virginity and got engaged the last day of her sixth year. She spent that summer fighting in the war against Voldemort, despite her mother's best efforts to stop her, and after the war was won by Harry Potter, Draco was able to stop working as a spy.

You say your mother told you all that I could give you was a reputation,

Oh, whoa, whoa!

They married that New Years Eve. Virginia Molly Malfoy Weasley finished her education through mail order, as she and her new husband traveled the world. They eventually settled back down in Malfoy Manor, and had twins. Lyra Fabian Malfoy, and Orion Gideon Malfoy were famous at Hogwarts for refusing to be be sorted, and led to the eventual decline of the House system as anything but room assignments.

Come out, come out, come out Virginia, don't let me wait,

You know that only the good die young!

Draco spun Ginny in his arms and dipped her, letting her hair fall in ringlets still fiery despite the intermingled fine white strands. The laugh lines above her eyes crinkled as he lifted her and kissed her hand delicately, keeping his eternally icy eyes fixed upon her warm brown ones. As she swayed in his arms, her body fit perfectly into his as though they were two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

She raised her lips to his ear, and murmured, " Happy seventy fifth anniversary." She paused for a moment, and began again, though more halting this time, "Do you ever...regret...regret this decision, I mean one of us could have died, or maybe 16 was too young to decide..."

She faltered and slowed, looking up at him anxiously, until he darted a quick peck on the tip of her still freckled nose, and whispered, "I'll always love you. Forever and always, until I am as old as Dumbledore. Anyway, only the good die young." He bit the tip of her nose this time as she smiled her extraordinary smile, that lit up her entire body.

I'm telling you baby,

Only the good die young,

An old woman sat at the head of an enormous bed, one of her withered hands caressing the photos moving in a yellowing album upon her lap. The wrinkles on her face creased so deeply you could practically see how you could get lost in them. Her other hand was grasped tightly in the hand of the ancient man sleeping beside her. Her brown eyes, still bright after one hundred and twelve years of use. She hummed as she carefully rubbed the aged hand in her own, and sang softly.

"Ooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooo oooooooooo..."