After the Fact

Two years earlier...

She sat nervously in the grand office. The sheer enormity of the room made her feel smaller, and the magnificence of the décor made her look shabby, to say the least. Since she'd arrived, she'd already noticed a stray thread hanging from the hem of her skirt, a smudge on her shoe, and a chipped nail on her right hand. Why she'd not thought about where she was going and what she'd look like in a place like this, she'd never know.

But chances were, she'd never get the job anyway. The agent at the employment office had warned her that most people preferred assistants with a great deal of experience. She'd never get a job at a larger company, and there just wasn't a huge market for personal assistants at the moment, what with all the rebuilding from the war still in full swing and people being exceptionally careful with their personal finances. This was, in fact, the only advertisement for a personal assistant the agency had to speak of.

"And it'll pay handsomely," the gruff old wizard had said as he scribbled down the address for her. "But I wouldn't get your hopes up, love. These kind of people want educated help, not young people looking for a leg up."

"That's my problem, not yours," Ginny had told him, rolling up the parchment and stalking out of the building.

All the way to the house, she'd mulled it over. Theoretically, it shouldn't be an issue. But a guilty voice told her that she knew it would be. She knew Harry would hate it.

But she needed a job, now that the Green family had moved to Switzerland. And she was sick of nannying, sick of spending the day with spoiled kids who hated her and wouldn't mind her. She craved adult interaction, some new sort of challenge. Something that didn't involve cleaning up vomit. She wanted the freedom...and the income. She definitely needed the money. She always needed money.

That was another fight they'd had, over and over. He had plenty of money. He didn't want her to work. She wanted something to do, a profession, and she refused to take money from him.

"Gin, it's not charity, for Merlin's sake!" he'd cry, exasperated. "I love you, we're in a relationship, we live together. We share everything else, we might as well share money."

"No," she always replied stoutly. "I'm not taking your money, Harry."

"I don't want the bloody money, Ginny!"

"I don't care. I don't like being in debt to anyone, Harry. Not even you."

She sighed. She'd been waiting at least ten minutes since the house elf had shown her into the office. She supposed it was some sort of intimidation tactic, let her wait, see how her nerves build up. Well, it wasn't working, she fiercely told herself. She may have come seeking a job, but she wasn't about to let him play mind games with her.

Another minute or so and she heard the click of the door opening and closing swiftly behind her. She stood and turned to face an elderly witch, who she assumed was the housekeeper giving the interview. She was a tall, ramrod straight sort of woman with iron grey hair rolled into tight curls pressed close to her head. Her face seemed permanently creased into a frown, though that may have just been all the wrinkles. Not exactly a warm and fuzzy first impression, but Ginny staunchly smiled and extended her hand.

"Ginevra Weasley?" the woman asked.

"Yes, that's me," Ginny replied.

"My name is Madam Bernshaw, and I am the housekeeper here, as I am sure the advertisement told you," said the witch, taking a seat on the opposite side of the desk. Ginny resumed her seat as well. "My employer is currently out of the country recovering from a brief illness, and he has entrusted me to find him a suitable assistant before his return. You were informed of this already, I suppose?"

"I was, ma'am."

"And you are here about said employment?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ginny replied, using the politest voice she could remember from all the days of wheedling her mother.

"And have you any experience in the field?"

The field? "None directly, ma'am, but I have been a nanny for a family of four children since their mother died in the war. They've only recently moved to be nearer their grandmother, which brings me here, of course. I'm also," she added, seeing Madam Bernshaw was not too impressed, "very organized and willing to work hard. I was near the top of my year at Hogwarts."

"I see. What schooling have you completed?"

Ginny groaned inwardly. "I completed my fifth year at Hogwarts and my O.W.L.s, ma'am."

"And since then you have had no further education?"

"I'm afraid not, ma'am. I fought in the war, alongside the rest of my family. I haven't had the opportunity to return to school since then."

"Understandable, if not ideal, Miss Weasley. This job will be, I think, rather demanding. Mr. Malfoy has great demands on his time now more than ever, and dealing with these himself has taken a toll on his health. This is where you come in, obviously. You will be expected to keep track of his appointments, meetings, social calendar, etcetera, as well as keeping track of his post and attending to some of his personal needs. You may not spend all your time here, but you will be on-call at all hours. Do you think you will be able to handle these responsibilities?"

Ginny's head was spinning; wasn't this moving a little fast? Was it, Merlin forbid, going...well? "Yes," she said, collecting herself. "I can certainly try."

Was she imagining it, or did Madam Bernshaw actually crack a smile?

"I'm glad to hear it, Miss Weasley. Will you be available to start this weekend?"

********************************************************************************************

"Harry! Harry, are you home?" Ginny burst into the little London flat they shared above an empty shop in what used to be Knockturn Alley, dropping her broomstick behind the door and peeling off her cropped blazer and black pumps as she made her way further into the room.

"Harry! Will you get out here?" she called down the corridor, where she was sure he was lounging about with his latest Quidditch magazine.

"What is it, Gin? What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, emerging from behind their closed bedroom door.

"I got a job!" she cried, practically skipping down the hallway and into his arms. "I just got a job today! Just now, in fact! It was so much easier than I thought...except, I think it was just luck, mostly, this particular job."

In fact, she was sure it was more than luck; it was partiality. Madam Bernshaw had informed her that after Ginny had left the employment office, the gruff old wizard had stuck his head in the fireplace and informed her that an applicant was on the way. The housekeeper, accordingly, had informed her employer through the Floo network, and Ginny was sure, given her brief interview, that Malfoy had told the housekeeper she was approved to hire. Not exactly the way she'd like to get a job, but since the theory was mostly speculation, she still had the freedom to imagine it had been her genuine and honest answers that had won her employment.

"That's great, Gin," Harry said with rather forced enthusiasm. Ginny drew away slightly and caught his eye.

"Be happy for me, Harry," she demanded. "Because I refuse to have this fight again. I'm satisfied. You should be, too."

"I told you, if you're happy, I'm happy," he replied, twining a lock of her silken hair around his fingers.

"Then smile," she ordered him. "And let's celebrate."

Harry leaned down and kissed her tenderly. "Ok. Let's celebrate."

"I brought home champagne," she said, pulling him into the kitchen.

"Vanilla flavored," he teased, reading the label on the bottle on the counter.

"Shut up," Ginny shot back with a grin, perching on the counter. "It's for special occasions. So is cake. Let's make cake."

"Gin, remember the last time you told me to cook?"

She hopped down from the counter, wrapped her arms around his neck, and brushed her lips tantalizingly close to his. "I'll help you."

"I guess cooking and baking are...different."

Ginny grinned and gave him a quick kiss before flicking her wand at the cupboards; cake ingredients and utensils quickly assembled themselves on the counter in front of them. She leaned back against the counter and watched Harry levitate and measure ingredients into the bowl, occasionally interfering to save the cake from disaster.

"So, tell me about this job," he asked.

Ginny's stomach turned over. She had been dreading this moment since she accepted the position. She kept telling herself it didn't matter if she worked for Malfoy, if she spent most of her days with him; he had changed, in the end. He had fought for their side. He had given them vital information. His heroic efforts had changed the way the war was fought. But that didn't mean, she knew, that he and Harry were bosom buddies.

"It's a personal assistant position, like I wanted," she started, stalling. "So it'll be a pretty big time commitment. I'll have to be available at all hours, but I think it's kind of exciting. And it makes my day hours a little more flexible, too, because I'll have to be there most days, but I'll get some nice little holidays, too."

"And you'll be ok with all that? You're going to like being ordered around and yelled at all the time?"

"Harry, I'm not going to be ordered around. It's more organizing and planning than that, not 'fetch my slippers.' And you know, I've been thinking about maybe going to night school sometime, becoming an events planner. And this would help lead right into that."

"All right, all right. It sounds great, Gin. I'm excited for you."

"You better be."

"I am. Where is this place, anyway? Muggle London?"

She paused. "No, he's a wizard."

"Who? Your new boss?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, that's great! You'll get to use magic, at least."

"I know."

"Must be pretty rich, if he can afford to pay a personal assistant in times like these."

"Not everyone's struggling, Harry. You're not. You're not even working."

"I know. Just making an observation, Gin."

They fell silent as Ginny watched Harry rather unskillfully crack an egg into the bowl using his wand. She picked a few stray bits of shell out of the bowl while he wasn't looking.

"So, have you met him?"

"Who?" she asked, playing dumb.

"Your new boss."

The moment of truth. Just do it quickly, she thought.

"Actually...yeah," she replied hesitantly. "I know him. You do, too."

"Really?" Harry asked, looking up interestedly. "Who is it? Someone from Hogwarts?"

Ginny stared at the counter, telling herself she had nothing to be ashamed of, working for him. It was just a job. Just business.

"Yeah, someone from Hogwarts," she said. "How's the batter? Done?"

"I think so," Harry said, looking at the contents of the bowl. "Kind of lumpy though."

"I'll take care of it," Ginny said, sticking her wand into the bowl. The batter whipped itself around in a circle for a few seconds, and when she removed her wand, it was lump free.

"So who is it?" Harry asked, not to be distracted.

Ginny paused and drew a deep breath. She looked up and caught Harry's eye. "It's Draco Malfoy."

Ginny's gaze never wavered; she held Harry's eye for as long as he could take it. He turned sharply away, staring into the bowl of batter, his shoulders hunched over into an all-too-familiar position. There was a fight coming.

"Harry, don't do this," she said, a little more snappishly than she meant to. "He's not the enemy anymore. He's on our side. He's proven himself time and again, and you of all people know that."

"I didn't say he was the enemy," Harry said levelly.

"But you don't want me working for him."

"I didn't say that either."

"But you don't."

"No, Ginny, I don't!" he finally exploded, throwing up his hands and turning to face her. "No, I don't want you working for the man who, throughout all our years at school, spent his time thinking of malicious things to do and say to you, me, and our closest friends. I don't want you spending all your time with a man I know is capable of hurting you."

"Harry, he was young. We were young. This stupid grudge it's...it's...just childishness. There's no reason I can't be respectably employed by him."

Harry scoffed. "To what? Keep track of his photo ops?"

"Don't take that tone, Harry Potter. You're one to talk about publicity."

"I never sought it, Ginny. I never signed on to be the Ministry's poster boy. I never owned the hero title I inherited. Don't tell me about myself; I remember."

"Get off your soapbox, Harry. Everyone loved and adored you from the moment you were born. Draco's had to work against a reputation he and his family created his whole life and lifetimes before. I don't blame him for wanting a little positive publicity. Which, by the way, has nothing to do with my being his assistant."

"He's 'Draco' now, is he?"

"He has been for almost four years, Harry."

Harry turned, speechless, and stalked out of the room. Fuming, Ginny ran after him down the hallway.

"Don't you walk away from me, Harry Potter!" she cried. "You've done enough of that in the last year, and I'm sick of seeing your arse!"

Harry halted and turned towards her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing," Ginny shot back, gathering steam. "Just that you've successfully withdrawn from every aspect of life there could be possibly be. Just that you've walked away from everything you used to love. Just that ever since we even started this relationship again, ever since we moved in together, you've pulled away even from me. Just that you don't even fight for what you want anymore, Harry--you just fight with me instead and then lock yourself up for three or four bloody days afterwards!"

Harry took a step backwards, as if she'd physically hit him. He watched her for a moment, her jaw clenched, her eyes burning. He knew she was right. They were all right, Ron, Hermione, everyone. He'd heard it all before. But he wasn't about to admit it.

"That's completely irrelevant, Ginny," he said coolly. "We're not talking about me. We're talking about you and Malfoy and you working for Malfoy."

"Fine," she snapped in a way that indicated it wasn't fine. He knew they weren't finished with the subject of his reclusive habits. "Let's talk about it then."

"I don't want you working for him," Harry said, taking a step back towards her.

"I need the work, Harry."

"There are other jobs."

"No, there aren't."

"There are, you're just being stubborn."

"So are you. And anyway, I don't want other jobs. I want this one. It pays better than any other non-professional job listed at the agency."

Harry sighed and crossed to her, but stopped short at reaching for her. "Ginny, we've talked about money before, and you know how I feel about it. You know I'd love nothing more than to take care of you."

"And you know how I feel about it, Harry. I've told you a hundred times, I'm an equal partner in this relationship, and until we're married and our bank accounts are joined, I'm not taking money from you."

"Ginny, that's ridiculous. We might as well be married, so you might as well take the money!"

"Then why don't we get married?" she asked, her eyes filling with tears. It always came back to this; every fight, every disagreement, turned back to the status of their relationship and Harry's obstinacy in taking it to the next level.

"I've said it a thousand times," he said, almost sadly. "We'll get married. Just not yet. I'm not ready."

"Harry, I've been in love with you since I was eleven," Ginny said, trying to blink the tears out of her eyes. "I've told you before, I'm in this, one hundred percent. I just need to know that you are, too."

"I am, Gin! I'm in! I just need some more time to--"

"Time! You always need more time! What if there's not any more time, Harry?"

"The war's over, Ginny! We've got nothing but time!"

"You never know when there could be another war. Or another crisis. Or another...something that takes us away from each other. Don't tell me the war's over, because no war's over forever."

"For Merlin's sake, I think we're going to start another war in this flat at the rate we're going, Ginny!"

Ginny's eyes blazed. "We already have, Harry."

She turned on her heel and grabbed her cloak off the hook by the door, flinging it around her shoulders and reaching for her broom. Harry followed her to the door and touched her shoulder, but she shrugged him off.

"I'm going to Ron and Hermione's," she said, opening the door and stepping through. She paused before she closed it and caught his eye. "I'm going to work for Draco Malfoy, Harry," she said levelly. "And you're going to have to learn to live with that, or else you'll have to learn to live without me."

And before he could say anything, she slammed the door and ran down the stairs out onto the street. Harry didn't follow her.