Our Winter

~

Chapter One: Pranks and Prejudice

~

The Gryffindor common room was unusually empty, most of the younger students already in bed, having given up on studying for exams. Ron and Harry would have happily followed them, but Hermione was determined that the three of them would get the best possible N.E.W.T. (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests) scores by following a system Ginny didn't hope to understand. Ron and Harry didn't seem to understand it, either, but they were extraordinarily good at following Hermione's orders.

Ginny had spent the better part of the day trying to convince herself that it would be lunacy to approach Draco Malfoy and offer to be his slave. Whatever the situation she found herself in, no amount of security could possibly be worth the humiliation she would have to bear at his hands.

At least, that's what she'd been repeating to herself over and over again in a vain attempt to turn her back on all that the Order offered. I don't need them, she tried to believe. I've got my family and I've got my health and I certainly don't need Draco Malfoy.

Her attention was diverted by Hermione's loud sigh of disgust.

"Do you want to get a zero on Transfiguration, then?" Hermione was saying. "Because you're going about it the right way if you do."

"Herm," Harry said patiently (well, Ginny was sure he was trying to sound patient), "we've been studying for eight hours straight--"

"And we'll study for another eight hours until you two convince me you're even halfway ready for the N.E.W.T.s!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Maybe we don't bloody care," Ron groused. "You're the one who's so obsessed with doing well on these stupid tests."

"They're not stupid, Ron," Hermione said in a very aggrieved tone.

"Now you've done it," Harry noted to Ron.

"Every single day, every single lesson we've taken here at Hogwarts will mean nothing if we don't do well on our N.E.W.T.s," Hermione continued.

Ron looked a bit panicked. "Hermione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it--"

"You should show more respect than that, anyhow," Hermione continued. "Do you think good jobs just fall out of trees?"

"Well, there are those idiots who play tree cricket on broomsticks that--"

Ginny tried not to giggle out loud at the way Harry shut his mouth with an audible snap when Hermione glared at him. As three heads whipped around to stare at her, she realized she wasn't entirely successful.

"I'm glad my N.E.W.T.s aren't 'til next year," she said, trying to cover her inadvertent giggle by clearing her throat.

"Yes, lucky," Ron commented absently. "Though you'll have that thing in the forest to look forward to."

"Ron!" Hermione hissed.

"What? Oh!" He looked back toward Ginny. "Forget I said that."

Ginny was about to probe further, but Hermione let out a sharp cry that drew the attention of everyone in the room. She was looking at a piece of parchment.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Harry asked, sounding slightly panicked.

"Oh, that ruddy little troll!" Hermione shrieked.

"What are you on about, woman?" Ron asked.

"Parvati Patil passed me a note in Arithmancy today," Hermione said, looking a few moments away from tears. "I didn't look at it in class, because you know how I feel about passing notes in class."

"Yes, dear," Harry murmured dutifully, knowing full well how Hermione felt about anything that detracted from learning during class.

"What's the note say?" Ron asked around a mouthful of Chocolate Frog he'd smuggled back from Hogsmeade.

"Well, because of that silly misunderstanding in the boy's showers last week--" (Ginny didn't find what happened in the boy's showers silly, or much of a misunderstanding -- Hermione had climbed inside naked, then proceeded to climb all over an equally in-the-buff Harry. Obviously, she hadn't intended Neville Longbottom to walk in on them and shriek like a woman, thus calling half the school in to witness Harry and Hermione's act of lewdness, but it had happened, and Ginny thought it was high time Hermione accepted it, moved on, and stopped trying to spin it into something it wasn't.) "--that insufferable Draco Malfoy has taken to . . . he's been calling me . . ." She looked like she was about to cry.

"What's he been calling you?" Ron looked murderous. Then again, Ron always looked murderous when someone mentioned Malfoy. Ginny wanted to die.

"Herm," Harry prodded gently.

"WHOREMIONE!" she cried. "All right? Happy now? He's been calling me Whoremione! And it's apparently very popular, because Parvati heard it from a Hufflepuff sixth year."

"Oh, Hermione," Ginny murmured sympathetically. Was this a sign, she wondered? Malfoy was so cruel, so petty -- almost for sport, it seemed. Was anything -- even security -- worth the torture she would be subjecting herself to?

"I'll kill him," Ron declared.

"Oh, you'll do nothing of the sort," Hermione said, sniffling loudly. And just like that, she'd put herself back together again. Ginny admired that about Hermione, even as she wondered if it was all that healthy.

Harry seemed to share her worry, because he wrapped an arm around Hermione's back and stroked the length of her spine with gentle fingers. Biting the inside of her lip, Ginny glanced away from the sight. She didn't want Harry, but that didn't mean she didn't want a Harry of her own.

"Just a few more weeks, love," Harry murmured comfortingly.

This seemed to bright Hermione considerably. "I still can't quite believe it, Harry."

"Believe what?" Ginny asked.

"They're running off together," Ron noted.

"Not off," Hermione corrected.

"We're just spending the first three weeks of summer holiday together," Harry added.

"We're deciding which countries to visit now," Hermione said. "Maybe Italy and Spain."

"You should come with us, Ron," Harry added. Hermione kicked him in the leg, then sighed, sending Ron a little grin of resignation.

"Yes, we'd love to have you," she added. "Who needs a quiet trip for two?"

"Thanks, though I know it'll break your heart to hear it, I couldn't come even if I wanted to." Ron let out a sigh identical to Hermione's. "I've got to get a job the very instant I graduate. No time to go about lolly-gagging like you two slackers."

"Is it that bad at home?" Hermione wondered.

Ron glanced at Ginny. "Gin, I haven't had a chance to tell you yet. Mum only owled me this morning."

"Tell me what?"

"Dad's been sacked," Ron said mournfully. Ginny felt the bottom drop out of her world.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said sympathetically.

"It's all those Muggle gadgets he insists on leaving about everywhere," Ron ranted. "Mum told him it would get him in trouble with the Ministry."

"But Dad loves those Muggle artifacts," Ginny protested numbly, the idea of her father no longer having a job -- she couldn't even think it!

"Yeah, and now he's going to have to love whatever money Percy, Bill, and Charlie can manage to send home to support all of us," Ron said bitterly.

"You're not being fair," Ginny insisted. "Dad wasn't doing anything harmful. It was pure spite on the Ministry's part that got him sacked."

"Is there . . ." Harry trailed off, a guilty flush decorating his skin.

Ron offered him a tired smile. "You don't have to feel bad about it," he assured Harry. "Weasleys are much too proud to take charity from anyone. Besides, we'll be all right. I'll get a job, and Fred and George will con the capital for their joke shop out of some poor, unsuspecting git--"

"Um, Ron," Ginny interrupted timidly, "about Fred and George and their confidence schemes . . ."

"Gin," Ron said warningly, "do not give me another piece of bad news right now. I don't think my heart can take it."

"They're in trouble," Ginny said. "They were gambling somehow -- something about enchanted racing frogs -- and, well . . ."

"Well?" Ron demanded.

"They lost all their savings when Crown Prince Hop-a-long took a dive on the third lap," Ginny burst out.

"Maybe we should go," Harry said nervously.

"Yes, this seems to be a family matter," Hermione began.

"Sit," Ron and Ginny snapped at the same time, before redirecting their attention back on each other.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ron asked.

"Oh, like how you rushed straightaway to tell me about Dad?" Ginny pointed out sarcastically.

"It's different," Ron insisted.

"How?"

"I've only known for a day," Ron said triumphantly.

"I've only known for a week," Ginny muttered, "and was sworn to secrecy. They want to tell Mum the truth themselves. They figure at least this way, she won't be able to send them a Howler."

"Yeah, but she's more likely to strangle them," Ron said.

"Do you suppose they'd notice if we tried to leave again?" Harry murmured into Hermione's ear.

"No need," Ginny assured them, her voice as stiff as her spine. "I'll leave."

Before Ron could so much as bluster, Ginny had vacated the common room and fled through the Fat Lady's portrait.

~

She'd been watching him for going on half an hour now.

They were sitting on the grass, the three of them, and Ginny couldn't help being stunned that Draco Malfoy would let his robes touch the common ground. A poor night's sleep had left her with the same conclusion she'd come to as she stormed through the common room's portrait hole, leaving Ron, Harry and Hermione staring after her: there was no choice. She had to do this.

Crabbe and Goyle were looking as Neanderthal-ish as ever, their robes hanging open to reveal school uniforms that seemed too small for their large frames. Malfoy's head was tilted back toward the sky, eyes closed, sunlight turning his already pale skin nearly as translucent as his hair. Were the Malfoys angels once, Ginny wondered idly, angels fallen or corrupted or tainted somehow?

He was lovely, in the same ways marble statues in museums were lovely -- cold, unattainable, and perfect to the point of absurdity. Physically, Draco looked fragile as glass, able to shatter with the slightest effort; beneath all that, though, Ginny had to wonder if he possessed some core of strength. Would almost have to, having had Lucius Malfoy as a father for the past seventeen years.

Though she'd known of him for years, Ginny had never spent much time thinking about Draco Malfoy, beyond the obvious, spiteful thoughts she'd entertained on Ron, Harry, and Hermione's behalves. Since her pledge to the Order, however, she'd done almost nothing but think of him. Exclusively. Momentary woes like her family's financial straits and the twins' troublesome exploits occasionally filtered into her consciousness, to be quickly shoved aside again -- all roads led back to Draco Malfoy. He held her entire future in the palm of his hand and she wasn't even sure if she had the courage to speak to him, let alone offer to be his . . .

Abruptly, Ginny turned away from the nauseating trio before her. She could barely even think of her bargain with the Order; how in the name of Godric Gryffindor was she supposed to say it out loud to Malfoy?!

Just then, she heard Crabbe and Goyle grunt something to Malfoy, to which he replied "Fine, then" and paid them no further mind. This was exactly what she'd been waiting for -- Crabbe and Goyle to depart and leave her with Malfoy; all alone with Malfoy.

Ginny felt like she was going to be sick.

"Come on, whoever you are poking about," Malfoy drawled without looking away from the cloudless sky. "I don't appreciate being stalked."

Closing her eyes, Ginny breathed deeply a few times and prayed for strength. Abandoning the comforting shelter of the shadows, she walked straight up to Draco Malfoy and stared down at him.

"I wasn't stalking you, Mr. Malfoy," she informed him primly.

"Isn't that what skulking about in shadows, spying on someone is?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Weasley?"

Ginny shifted uncomfortably, then forced herself to be still. He was not going to make her squirm. At least, not so easily.

"Virginia Weasley," she confirmed with a serious expression on her face. She held her hand out to him and was absurdly proud when it didn't shake.

One corner of Malfoy's mouth tilted upward. "It doesn't suit you," he told her smartly.

Her eyebrows drew together, her hand still held out toward him. "What?"

"Virginia," he said. She waited for him to continue, then realized he meant her name didn't suit her.

"What the devil's wrong with Virginia?" she asked, perplexed, her hand dropping.

"Not a thing," he conceded, "if you're boring, unimaginative, and totally without style of any kind." He snapped his fingers, as if just remembering a great secret. "Oh, but I forgot, didn't I? You're a Weasley. Sorry, Virginia, it does fit."

"No one calls me Virginia," she declared hotly, before she'd thought about it. "Everyone who knows me calls me Ginny."

His satisfied smirk actually made her blood boil. "So then, Ginny, what did you want?"

Staring at her blankly for a moment, he looked behind him, then back to her. In all seriousness, he asked, "Is this a joke?"

"No, it is not a joke," she said through gritted teeth. "I-- I--"

"Go on then, spit it out," he said, laughing at her a bit.

"I need you to consent to let me be your slave for a month," she burst out, her words running together with her nervousness.

Malfoy blinked at her. He made a big show of sticking his fingers into his ears to clear them out. Then, he sat back on the grass, hands folded neatly in his lap, and raised an eyebrow at her.

"This is a joke," he confirmed. "Honestly, I don't really get it, but then I've never been overly fond of Weasley humor."

"It's not a joke!" Ginny snapped. "It's . . . look, never mind what it is. I'd be yours for a month. I'd do whatever you wanted me to do, run errands, copy down notes on parchment -- anything."

He considered her for a moment. "Why should I let you?"

It was her turn to blink at him. "Sorry, did you not catch the 'willing slave for a month' part?"

His eyes rolled at her. "It's been my experience that no one offers themselves up for slavery -- even temporary slavery -- without a bloody good motive. I damn well want to know what your motive is before I agree to anything."

"There's this . . ." Think, Weasley, THINK! "Club!" she cried out, then cleared her throat. "There's this club," she continued in a much more normal-sounding voice, "and they need me to sort of prove my commitment . . ."

Malfoy's eyes actually lit up. "By doing the most revolting thing you can think of?"

All the air went out of her. "Yes," she answered miserably.

"What can you do?" Draco asked. "Because I don't want a useless slave."

Pursing her lips, Ginny glanced to his right and noticed the large bag of books. Pulling out her wand, she pointed it at them, and said primly:

"Wingardium Leviosa Infinite Draco!" The bag lifted, hovered around Draco's body, then draped itself over his form.

Draco looked puzzled for a moment, then gave her an appraising look. "It feels weightless," he said.

"It better," she said. "It's supposed to hover a few centimeters above whatever shoulder you've hung it on, so it looks as though you're carrying it."

"Dumbledore doesn't want us using magic for simple tasks," he said with a straight face.

Ginny looked at him wryly. "Professor Dumbledore also doesn't want us trading in human slavery, but here we are. So. Do we have a deal?"

"Anything?" Draco clarified.

"Well . . . No creepy sex stuff," she said before she'd realized what she was about to say.

Draco snickered. "Oh, then typical sex stuff will be all right, then?"

While she couldn't see herself, Ginny was sure her face was redder than her hair. She'd said the word sex out loud to Draco Malfoy. And he seemed so calm, damn him, like it didn't affect him in the slightest. Well, fine. If he could discuss it calmly, so could she.

"There will be no sexual favors of any kind," Ginny stated firmly. Technically, she wasn´t really allowed to make these stipulations, but he didn´t know that.

"Fine," Draco agreed easily. "It's not like I want you anyway."

It stung more than it should have, and Ginny resolved not to let it show.

"Are we agreed, then?" Ginny said, her voice apprehensive and eager at once.

"I suppose," Draco said noncommittally. "Though, I don't know if you've thought of this, Weasley, but the only reason I'm doing this is to drive Potter and your git of a brother mad. Have you considered what you're going to tell them?"

She absolutely hadn't given a single thought to what she was going to tell Harry and Ron. It was quite possible that Ron would try to kill Draco, all the while screaming at Ginny for being a mad idiot. And Harry! She was unsure whether Hermione would keep Harry from strangling her, or Harry would keep Hermione from it.

Ginny considered and immediately rejected the idea of telling them the truth -- they would never understand and she certainly didn't want their pity.

"I suppose," she began, thinking out loud, "that you could be tutoring me, couldn't you? In Potions? You get good marks in Potions."

"Well, I'm rather smart," Draco noted smugly.

"But I also happen to know you're failing Herbology," Ginny declared with a grin. "And you've got N.E.W.T.s coming up. Barely two months left to study."

"I get good marks in Herbology," Ginny added helpfully.

His countenance only seemed to darken further.

"Spit it out, Weasley."

"You tutor me in Potions, which the entire school can learn about for all I care, and I'll quietly tutor you in Herbology. No one will ever know, you'll get excellent N.E.W.T.s, and I'll--"

"What do you want to get into some stupid club for, anyhow?" Draco asked suddenly, looking genuinely perplexed.

"It's not stupid," she argued hotly, color once again rising to her cheeks, this time, with righteous indignation. "And besides, I need them. We aren't all born spoilt brats into filthy rich families, you know. Some of us have to make our own way in the world."

"Yes, by soliciting the help of a spoilt brat from a filthy rich family," he pointed out dryly.

Ginny wanted to wring his neck. That, however, would ensure she wasn't accepted to the Order, so instead, she gritted her teeth and pasted a big, fake smile onto her face and regulated her voice so that her tone was pleasant and professional.

"That's right. And I would be eternally grateful, Mr. Malfoy. Shall we iron out the details tonight?"

"Yes, over dinner, I think," Draco suggested smoothly. "Dinner that you've made for me yourself and served in the Slytherin common room. Good luck finding the password, I know a professional like you won't have any problem with it at all."

~

"Excuse me, I was looking for my girlfriend -- bright girl, gorgeous as hell, always ordering everyone around?"

"Go on and go away, Harry," Hermione mumbled into her pillow.

"Sorry, can't," he said, shutting her door behind him. "It's in the 'Good Boyfriend's Handbook' -- if I abandon you at a time when I know full well you're most vulnerable, they throw me out of the guild."

Hermione sighed. "We can't have that, can we? Well, come on, get over here."

Climbing onto the bed behind her, Harry wrapped one arm around her waist, the other snaking beneath her neck to tighten over her chest. Both hands pulled her body snug against his and she let out a little sigh of pleasure at the contact.

"As I was on my way over here, I was thinking to myself. Harry, I thought, what could possibly be wrong with that girl of yours? She's smarter than anyone she's ever likely to meet, she's got a sexy arse she insists on hiding beneath layers of robes," Hermione giggled a little at that, "she made Head Girl and has a bedroom all to herself, which makes late night assignations with me that much simpler . . . what, then, could possibly be bothering her?"

"You know full well what's bothering me," Hermione muttered.

"You can't keep worrying about it, Herm," Harry sighed. "It's done, and, short of a highly suspect and inadvisable memory charm, no one's bound to forget it any time soon."

"If only some other big scandal would crop up," Hermione insisted.

"Even if it did," Harry said slowly, "I don't think it would help. I heard some of the others talking -- Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, in particular -- and they're making plans to unofficially rename the boy's showers the 'Hermione Granger Water Closet'."

Hermione groaned and tried to completely bury her head in a pillow.

"It's just seven more weeks," Harry murmured temptingly in her ear, "just seven more weeks of classes and the occasional, good-natured jab--"

"Whoremione is not good natured," she groused.

"--and we'll be free," Harry finished. "We can start seeing the world together, and spend some time with your family. Then we can go back and stay with the Weasleys for awhile, before we . . ."

Glancing at him over her shoulder, Hermione pulled his hand to her lips, kissing the tips of his fingers gently. "Before we what?"

"Er," Harry murmured, rubbing her arm gently with his hand that shook ever so slightly, "before we, um . . . maybe find someplace of our own?"

A tiny smile curved Hermione's lips upward. "Together?"

"Well . . . that is . . . I mean . . . yes."

"Do you expect us to live in sin, then?" she asked him, already grinning.

"Of course not!" he burst out, tightening his hand around her arm for a moment.

Gently turning in his embrace, she faced him, appraising his features carefully. His glasses were crooked and she couldn't stop from lamenting, and not for the first time, just how incredibly beautiful he was to her. He'd always been adorable, the type of boy you wanted to hug and hug, until all the sadness of his life left him. But he'd grown into a man, she'd watched him do it; sometimes, liked to think she had a thing or two to do with it.

And, if she wasn't mistaken, he was trying to ask her to marry him.

"You're beautiful, you know that, don't you?" She didn't, really, but when he said it, she always believed him.

"Was there something you wanted to ask me, Harry?" she whispered.

"My parents . . ." He swallowed. "My parents had a short time together, but they were happy. Really, really happy." He smiled at her. "You make me happy, Herm. I don't ever want to go through another day without knowing you're in my life, where you belong: with me, in our bed, in our home, wherever we happen to be." He laughed a little. "I'm not really doing this right."

"Oh, come on, Harry," she murmured, brushing that ever-errant lock of hair off his forehead. "I think you're doing all right for your first time."

"Will you marry me, Hermione?" he asked, his voice earnest and sure. She was so glad he already knew what her answer would be, even if his palms were sweating a little.

"Of course, yes, yes!" She kissed him, then kissed him again, because she could.

"You're not worried, are you?" he wondered, pulling away from her. "Because we're so young?"

Her eyes rolled at him. "Harry, we've been together for nearly two years, we've known each other for nearly seven. I know what I want; I've known for years. It's you, Harry. It's always going to be you, and a few more years won't change it. I want our life together to start now."

"Didn't I tell you?" he asked. "It started a few months ago."

"Smart ass," she chastised, then kissed him again. They held one another for awhile, exchanging lazy kisses and caresses, a tangled mass of limbs stretched out on her full-sized bed.

"You know you don't have to worry about what everyone's saying about you," Harry said after awhile.

"I know," she said with a resigned sigh.

"After all, it's not like you were in a shower with nine or ten blokes. It was just me."

"Thank you, Harry," she said dryly.

"And since it was just me -- your steady of two years -- I hardly think that's whore-ish behavior at all."

"Maybe not to us, but Harry, we grew up around Muggles." Hermione shrugged. "This is a different world. And it's our world now; has been for years."

"It's still hard to adjust to some things," Harry confessed. "Even spending summer holidays with the Weasleys . . . I've gotten used to the Wizarding world completely. But there's still eleven years of my life when I didn't know a thing about it. Granted, I wouldn't mind forgetting those years entirely--"

"But we can't," Hermione agreed. "And, in all honesty, I quite enjoy Muggle technology." She sighed. "It only gets worse when I go home for the summer holidays. What I wouldn´t give for a simple telephone around here sometimes."

"Or an Internet connection," Harry added. "Imagine, being able to do research for spells on a computer instead of using musty old books and parchment."

"I rather like the musty old books and parchment," Hermione said with a frown. "However, I admit, during those moments when time is of the essence, what I wouldn't give for a search engine."

"We've been wondering what we're going to do after our last term ends," Harry began slowly, "and I think I might have an idea." Hermione gave him a questioning look. "What if we made it our business to sort of . . . merge Muggle technology into the Wizarding world?"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione breathed. "I don't know--"

"You hate it," he said. "I know. It's stupid."

"Stop it," she ordered him gently. "I think it's brilliant. I think you're brilliant. We'd just have to be careful how we did it. The really old Wizarding families are totally inflexible when it comes to Muggle technology. There would be all sorts of licenses we'd have to get, mandates we'd have to have rewritten, acts of government that would need to be--"

"Herm," Harry interrupted gently, "I know all that. I've thought about it. And I think we can do it. You can do it. And do you know why?"

"Why?" she asked, absolutely glowing from his pride and confidence in her.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear. "Because you're my Whoremione."

"Oh, you amazing prat!" she cried, socking him in the arm as she snorted out a laugh.

Then, he kissed her, and she stopped trying to hit him.

Though she still felt he was an amazing prat.

~