Love is a Battlefield

Dedication: To everyone at 7Q and the LIAB Consultants group for their boundless enthusiasm and unwavering support and encouragement. This one is for you, guys.

* * * * *

Saturday, October 4th, 2008

Ginny sighed as she rifled through her wardrobe. Tonight was an important night for Draco; the crème de le crème of the fashion world would be on hand to witness the unveiling of Michel Meriwether’s new winter collection. Michel had climbed his way to the top of the fashion world by being the first wizard designer to really have a flair for Muggle clothing and embrace it, adding small touches to them, such as pockets that magically expanded on the inside. His label had taken off around the time Draco had come onto the scene, and together, they were a great team that could do no wrong as far as the fashion scribes were concerned.

As she went through her robes, she tried to remember whether she actually had any that she’d not worn before. Ginny had a reasonably large collection of robes for such occasions as these, but had meant to go shopping to buy a new one and hadn’t realised she’d run out of time before it was too late. As she fingered the material on a nice pale blue number she remembered wearing only once before, she heard the front door open and shut again.

"Ginny?"

"In the bedroom," she called out. A few seconds later, Draco appeared at the wardrobe door, box in hand. It was white and tied with a pink ribbon.

"Hi, beautiful, " he said with a grin.

Ginny stopped for a moment and looked up. "Hi, baby." She grinned back and stepped forward to kiss him, then turned back to the task on hand.

"Whatcha doing?" Draco asked, the rich timbre of his voice sending a shiver up her spine. She noticed he had a glint in his eye, which usually meant he had a surprise for her.

"What does it look like I’m doing? Trying to figure out what robes to wear tonight."

Draco grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the wardrobe, leading her over to the bed and sitting her down. "Look no further. You’re not wearing anything in there."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "I see. So what exactly am I wearing then?"

Draco eyed her lasciviously. "How about nothing? You always look good in that."

Ginny laughed. "As much as I’m sure you’d love that, do you really want the crowd to see me naked?" She pretended to ponder the thought. "Actually, there’ll be quite a few guys there tonight, won’t there? I don’t know, could be fun!" she smiled devilishly at him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"The only man who gets to see you naked is me, woman, and don’t you forget it." Draco paused, placing the box in her arms. "How about this instead?"

He pulled the ribbon off the box, then lifted the lid. Ginny peered inside to find a lot of tissue paper. As Draco smoothed it back, she saw a flash of glitter inside the box.

He carefully pulled the shimmery item out of the box and held it up for inspection. Ginny gasped. It was, quite simply, the most beautiful robe she’d ever seen. It was silver, but had a rainbow of colours weaved through it. It reminded Ginny of a glimmering pearl, nestled snugly in its shell. She stood to look more carefully and reached out to rub the material gently through her fingertips. It felt like satin, but somehow seemed softer, more delicate. It was breathtaking.

"Where did you get this?" she breathed in wonder. "It’s beautiful, Draco."

Draco smiled and leaned over, kissing her gently. "Like you deserve anything less. You’ll be the belle of the ball. Not to mention the most gorgeous woman in the room." He caressed her cheek gently. "It’s a present from Michel. One of a kind. For you."

Ginny looked up at Draco, the surprise clearly etched in her face. "Really? He made this for me?"

Draco nodded. "I think he still feels a bit guilty about the Santorini thing. He said he wants you to wear it tonight, so you can ‘dazzle’ the crowd. His words." He grinned. "I think he’s going to try and persuade you to model for him again."

Michel had made several heartfelt pleas over the years for Ginny to give up her business and follow Draco into modelling. He loved the fact that they were both ‘beautiful people’, as he was want to call them to anyone who would listen, and thought they’d be perfect as a model couple on the catwalk, as they so obviously were off the catwalk.

So far, Ginny, while flattered, had steadfastly refused his offers, although she had been persuaded to join Draco in a charity shoot for Michel a few years back. It was only after Michel had promised to donate every cent to the charity of Ginny’s choice that she agreed to do a series of shots for his new line of jeans.

However, she’d had second doubts when she’d showed up to the shoot – in keeping in with the whole Muggle theme, the photographer had decided to take the pictures with Muggle film, opting for a set of black-and-white stills. Not that Ginny had a problem with that, but she’d become anxious when he’d revealed how he wanted to market the jeans. He claimed they’d stand out more in the photos if that’s all Draco and Ginny werewearing. After discussing logistics, Ginny had finally agreed after some encouraging words from Draco - whom she wasn’t at all surprised to note loved the idea - and a few glasses of wine.

As it turned out, Ginny loved the shots. Wrapped safely in Draco’s arms with her bare back to the camera, she couldn’t help but agree they were beautiful photos. Michel was right – she and Draco did look wonderful together. Michel had waxed enthusiastic for weeks about them, using them in every catalogue and advertisement he could get his hands on. However, it still hadn’t been enough to convince her to model full time. She simply enjoyed her job too much.

As Ginny gently took the robe from Draco’s grasp and held it up against herself, she smiled. It was simply gorgeous. One of Michel’s best pieces, ever. She made a mental note to give him a huge hug when she saw him.

"I did buy you something, though," Draco said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box. "I thought they might go with the robe." He handed it to her, the blue velvet making it obvious it was a piece of jewellry.

Ginny opened it to find, nestled in the middle, a platinum necklace that held an oval shaped diamond in its centre. With it, were matching drop earrings, also shaped like the necklace.

"Oh, Draco," she murmured, running a finger gently over the chain. "This must have cost a fortune!" Judging by the size of the diamond, she knew she had to be correct in that assessment.

She looked up to find a smiling Draco watching her intensely. "Do you like it?" he asked.

Ginny shook her head. "No. Of course not. It’s ugly and I hate it." She reached up and put her hand behind his neck, pulling his face down to hers. Their lips met in a forceful kiss, Ginny showing with everything she had just how much she loved his present – and loved him. She dropped the box onto the bed and stood, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body up against his. Draco made no protest, instead moving his hands until they rested on the small of her back and pulling her against him, just so she could feel how much he didn’t protest.

An undeterminable time later, they came up for air. Both breathing heavily, they stared at each other, slate eyes on maple ones.

"If you’re going to kiss me like that every time I buy you something, I’ll have to go shopping every day for the rest of my life," Draco panted.

Ginny laughed airily, leaning up to plant feathery kisses along his neck and jaw line. As she moved her lips across his cheek back towards his lips, his breathing became shallow again. She smiled and sealed her mouth over his, once again kissing him with a passion that made them both feel like the room was on fire. Or at the very least, their bodies.

They kissed for a few moments, then Ginny suddenly pulled back. "Better go take a shower and get ready."

Draco just stood there, unable to speak, watching her as she headed for the ensuite. Ginny loved it when she was able to kiss him senseless. As she got to the open doorway, she turned and looked back at him over her shoulder.

"Coming?"

Draco smiled and flew across the room to join her.

* * * * *

Ginny gasped with pleasure as she and Draco made their entry to the warehouse where La Maison d’Michel was going to launch its new winter collection. It seemed that Michel had spared no expense. The room had been turned into a Winter Wonderland. Enchanted snowflakes fell from the roof, dissolving as they reached the crowd. Spotlights in every corner enhanced the lighting of the room. Most people had dressed in the theme, with lots of white, silver, and pale blue to be seen. Of course, from the invitations that had been sent out in the shape of snowflakes, it wasn’t hard to surmise what the theme for the night was.

Ginny wore the robe that Michel had made her and, combined with the jewellry Draco had bought her and a pair of strappy, high-heeled silver sandals with snowflakes across the bands, she looked smashing. She had also piled her hair up high on the crown of her head, and had scattered snowflake clips around that gave her hair the effect of having passed through a snowstorm.

As she held Draco’s hand tightly, Ginny looked around, spotting a sea of familiar faces. Mostly models that Draco had worked with over the years, she recalled their names instantly as some of them turned to wave at her. She spotted Brandy, Leyah, and Phoebe huddled together. They were obviously modelling tonight, as their hair and makeup looked professionally done. She waved at Libbie and Athene as they headed towards the bar for a drink. As her eyes trailed the room, she found Michel in a corner, with more of his girls surrounding him, hanging on to his every word while they all sipped blue and white cocktails. His new assistant, Morgaine, herself a part time model, was nowhere to be seen.

As Draco started his hellos, she noticed a group of younger models watching him with barely concealed lust, which made Ginny grin. She glanced sideways and knew why almost every female (and quite a few males) were staring at him. He was outfitted in a silver shirt that matched Ginny’s robe perfectly, and tight, black leather pants that left nothing to the imagination.

Ordinarily, Ginny would have been a bit funny about him wearing something so sexy, but felt tonight that he should have the spotlight on him. Besides, she was adult enough to admit she did get a bit jealous about the attention he received in public (and the fact that some of his fans had no shame, practically leaping upon him while she was standing right next to him) but she knew that he felt the same way when she got the occasional wolf whistle. Besides, she knew that he would never do anything that would make her doubt his love for her.

They made their way around the room, saying hello to everyone and talking excitedly about Michel’s new range. Ginny joined the conversation occasionally but, as always, felt a little out of her depth. For the most part, the others guests were gracious enough to include her, but she was pleased when they finally reached Michel.

"Virginia!" he squealed, embracing her tightly before stepping back and holding her hands out in front of her so he could inspect her. "My angel, look at you! So lovely in your new robe…almost as if it was made especially for you!" he said with an exaggerated wink.

Ginny smiled. "Michel, it’s just beautiful. I can’t thank you enough."

"Nonsense," Michel replied, gallantly lifting her hand to his lips. "It’s a mere piece of material. It’s the gorgeous creature who’s wearing it that makes it beautiful. Don’t you agree, Draco?"

"Absolutely," Draco said with a grin. "Now, if you’re finished mauling my woman, can I have her back?"

Michel released Ginny’s hands and waved a hand at Draco, hissing like a cat. "I barely touched her. A jealous thing, you are." He swiped at Draco’s arm, then batted his eyelids at him. "Virginia should be more worried about you."

At this, Ginny and Draco both burst into laughter. It was no secret that Michel was gay, and he’d made no attempt to conceal his attraction to Draco, although he’d never acted upon it. He truly adored Ginny, and often bemoaned the fact that Draco was straight to her, telling her it was such a waste and reminding her how lucky she was to have such a good-looking man be so devoted to her.

Ginny, in turn, thought Michel was a wonderful human being, and it was for this reason that she’d never been unduly concerned about Draco being a model. Michel knew everything there was to know about the fashion world, and he protected Draco with a fierceness that was reminiscent of a lioness protecting her cub. He’d taken Draco under his wing and made sure he was untouched by the pitfalls that often befell the big names of the modelling world. In return, Draco had stayed faithful to Michel, and had resisted all attempts made by other fashion houses to lure him away.

Michel sighed dramatically as he watched the two of them, their hands entwined. Ginny stepped closer to Draco, drawn to him without realising it, and his arms encircled her, pulling her close. He kissed the top of her head.

"You two are just so beautiful together," Michel began. "When are you going to make an honest man of him, huh, Miss Virginia?"

Ginny smiled. "When he asks me to marry him. Properly, down on one knee."

Michel gasped in mock horror. "You haven’t asked her? Shame on you, Draco," he said, wagging a finger at him. "Maybe there’s hope for me yet!"

Ginny giggled, and Draco raised an eyebrow. "You wish," he said pleasantly. He leaned down and kissed Ginny. "I am a one-woman man, now and forever."

"Some day, my prince will come," Michel mused dreamily. "And now, Virginia, I must steal your husband. We have a show to put on!" he declared, clapping his hands enthusiastically in front of him.

Ginny leaned forward and kissed Michel’s cheek. "I’m sure it will your best yet. Good luck."

Michel smiled. "Thank you, darling. I’m sure everyone will do me proud. Come, Draco!" He clapped his hands again, and Draco turned to Ginny.

"I love you," he said, staring deeply into her eyes. She could see the smile in them.

"I love you too, baby. Now go out there and make all the girls jealous of me," she said, a smug grin crossing her face. She leaned up and kissed him softly. "Go!"

"Okay, okay." After a final quick kiss, he disappeared into the throng of models that were making their way backstage to get ready. Ginny watched until his silver blonde hair had gone, then realised someone else was staring at her.

Shifting her gaze slightly, she saw someone who made her want to scowl. April Richardson had paused by the doorway, fixing Ginny with a decidedly icy glare. Ginny tried to keep a cool exterior, forcing a smile in April’s direction. April stared a moment longer, then turned and entered the dressing room.

* * * * *

The launch was a smashing success. Every fashion reporter who valued his career was there, and Ginny was sure she’d never seen so many quills in the one place as she had that night. Retreating quietly to the side with a glass of wine, she’d cheered along with everyone else, her breath catching when Draco strutted his stuff down the catwalk. She marvelled at how he was actually able to see two feet in front of him with all the flashing of the cameras.

As was always the way, the cheers were loudest for him, and he played up the crowd in his usual fine form, blowing kisses and waving. On his first trip, his eyes instantly sought out hers, and he’d winked at her. It hadn’t taken him long; it was as if he just knew instinctively where she’d be.

After it was all over, and Michel had given the obligatory tearful "Thank You" speech for everyone’s attendance and enthusiasm, Ginny waited for Draco to appear from the dressing room. A few members of the crowd had passed comment on the show to Ginny, and a few of the models she knew well came over to say hi. Ginny offered her congratulations to them for a great show, and after kissing her cheek, they disappeared to accept more praise. Ginny had also had the opportunity to catch up with Morgaine, who shared Ginny’s extreme dislike of April, making them instant friends.

However, Morgaine had gotten called away to help out the back, so Ginny waited quietly for Draco to emerge. As she watched the doorway, she saw April stride out, a huge, false grin plastered on her face. Ginny took a sip of her wine, then realised with dismay that April was heading in her direction. Wondering if she would make it obvious she wanted to avoid April by legging it out the door, she sighed inwardly as April grabbed a champagne off the tray of a passing waiter and made her way over.

"Virginia, darling, how lovely to see you!" she greeted, air kissing each of Ginny’s cheeks. "Wasn’t it a great show?"

"Yes," Ginny replied, murmuring her assent. "An excellent show. I’m sure Michel’s range will take off nicely."

"Of course it will, how could it not? Everyone got the chance to see how wonderful it looked on us."

Ginny took another sip of her wine to stop herself laughing out loud at April’s huge ego. As she wondered how she could tell April to rack off politely, April spoke.

"Of course, if anyone looked good, it was Draco. He’s just so gorgeous. You really are very lucky to have him, Virginia. I think he could wear a sack and still make it look good."

Ginny smiled. "I’m sure he could."

April eyed her slyly, watching as she lifted her glass up to her mouth. "Of course, he looks his best with nothing on at all."

Ginny stopped cold, her hand pausing mid air. "Excuse me?"

"I know you’re not deaf. I’m sure you heard what I said."

Ginny’s mind swirled as she tried to comprehend what April was saying. "Are you trying to imply that you’ve seen Draco naked?"

April smiled smugly. "I’m not trying to ‘imply’ anything. I’m just stating a fact."

Ginny narrowed her eyes and tried again, just managing to keep her anger in check. "What are you trying to state then, April? That you’ve seen Draco naked?"

April fixed her with an amused grin. "And a whole lot more, darling. I really do understand why you so desperately cling to him. He’s a fabulous lover."

Ginny’s hand began to shake slightly. She was lying. She had to be. "Draco wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot wand, you lying bitch," she hissed, trying desperately to stop the tears that threatened to flow.

April raised an eyebrow. "Really? How do I know about his star-shaped birthmark then?"

Ginny hadn’t realised she’d dropped the glass until it shattered on the floor, splashing April’s white robe with red wine. A few people in their immediate surrounds looked over, but soon lost interest. Ginny, however, noticed none of them. Oh God, this isn’t happening, she thought. She’s got to be lying. Draco would never cheat on me!

A second voice popped up before she could silence it. Yes, but she raises an interesting point – how does she know about the birthmark? It’s not like it’s in a visible place. Draco’s birthmark was on the inside of his right thigh at the top. Not even something April could have mistakenly seen in the changing room.

Her mind searched for a reasonable explanation, but she was thrown so off-kilter by this revelation that she couldn’t think of one – except the explanation presented by April.

She tore her eyes away from April, who stood calmly, sipping her drink, and searched through the crowd until she found him standing on the other side of the stage with Michel. It was Michel who first noticed her, and he must have said something, because Draco’s head suddenly whipped around, and the smile faded instantly when he saw the obvious distress on Ginny’s face.

Draco froze, the hurt and anguish evident in her eyes, even from a distance. As he tried to figure out what was going on, April turned to glance in his direction, her expression one of totally serenity. But he moved his gaze quickly back to Ginny, and noticed the smashed glass on the floor. Just then, she let out a sob and brushed past April, heading for the exit.

"Ginny," he whispered, instantly making his way through the throng of people to intercept her. He was slowed down by the crowd, and was unable to reach her before she made it to the lobby and Disapparated.

Cursing under his breath, he instead made his way over to April, who’d watched the entire scene unfold with evident amusement.

"What did you say to her?" he growled, feeling his temper rising uncontrollably.

"I didn’t say anything. I don’t understand why she’s so upset." April’s tone was one of nonchalance. She drained the last of her drink and placed the empty glass on the table behind her.

Draco reached out and grasped her by the arms, hard, it taking every ounce of his willpower not to shake her. "Let me try again. What did you say to her?"

"Draco, take your hands off me," April hissed. "I didn’t say anything. We were talking about your birthmark, and she just started sobbing…" her voice trailed off.

Realisation dawned on Draco’s face as he understood what April must have implied. "Did you tell her we had sex?" April opened her mouth to deny it, but Draco shook her. "Did you?" he yelled.

For her part, April had the good grace to attempt to look chastened. "She might have assumed I was implying it," she conceded quietly. Draco let her go in disbelief, turning his gaze towards the ground and running a hand through his hair. Still shocked, he looked back up. While April’s smile was gone, he could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn’t sorry. It wasn’t the first time she’d tried to cause trouble between him and Ginny.

Stepping forward, he stood over her menacingly. "You listen to me, you fucking bitch," he began, almost on the brink of slamming her against the wall and choking her. "If you so much as go anywhere near my wife again – if you talk to her, if you even look at her again, I will kill you, do you understand me?" He leaned over until their faces were almost touching. "I. Will. Kill. You." He enunciated each word separately. His hand curled into a fist, and if Michel hadn't stepped in between them as a buffer, Draco would not have been responsible for what might have happened next.

"Go home, Draco," Michel said in a low tone. "Make sure your Virginia is all right. I’ll deal with April." Draco made no effort to move, so Michel gently pushed him. "Draco, go. Ginny needs you."

April watched with a sinking heart as Draco finally turned on his heel and stormed off without another word. Obviously, Michel had heard enough of what was said to know what had happened.

Michel said nothing, waiting until he saw that Draco had Disapparated, then turned around to face April.

"You couldn’t help yourself, could you, April?" he asked softly. "Why must you make so much trouble for them? They are young and in love, and yet instead of being happy for them, you try to tear them apart. Bitterness does not become you. Besides, it’s not a battle you would ever win. Draco loves his Virginia as deep as a river, as high as a mountain, and yet you still try." Michel paused, the sorrow clear in his voice. "I cannot have your maliciousness in my world anymore, April."

For the first time that night, April was truly shocked, her mouth forming a perfect circle of surprise. "What are you saying, Michel?"

Michel looked at her sadly, then made a motion of brushing his hands against each other. "I wash my hands of you, April. As of this moment, you no longer work for La Maison d’Michel."

April gasped. "You can’t be serious. I can’t help it if she took it the wrong way!"

Michel shook his head. "April, my decision is made. Please collect your things from my office on Monday. I will give you a month’s pay. I thank you for your time with me, and I wish you nothing but the best for the future." He kissed her hand, and walked off before she could protest further.

April stood there, her face melting into an ugly mask of rage. After a few moments, she calmed herself, determined to walk out of this situation with her dignity intact. She was best saving her anger for the one person who deserved it most.

* * * * *

As soon as Ginny got back to the flat, she took several deep, calming breaths. When that failed to appease her anger, she moved onto the balcony, the cold night air filling her lungs and allowing her to calm herself.

She felt stupid. She should never have let April make her angry her like that. There was no way in the world that Draco had slept with her. The more she thought about it, the more she realised there were any number of ways April could have known about the birthmark. Maybe she had noticed it as Draco changed. Maybe he’d simply told her about it.

And now she’d run out, making a fool of herself at Michel’s big night. She owed him an apology. She took a few more breaths, debating whether to go back, when she heard the familiar *pop*. Draco.

As she turned slowly to face him, she could see a mixture of emotions on his face. Anger. Love. Sorrow. Concern. He took a tentative step towards her, and she moved off the balcony to step back inside the apartment. Without breaking eye contact, she slid the door closed behind her.

They stared at each other for a long moment, both of them wanting to say so much, but neither wanting to say it first. Ginny could tell that Draco was angry with her for even doubting him for a second, and she instantly felt contrite. This was not the first time their relationship had been tested over the years, and they’d made it through each crisis intact, and more secure in the knowledge that they loved each other deeply, and theirs was a bond that would never break.

However, there was something in Draco’s cool grey eyes that told Ginny it was different this time. She felt the tears well up.

"Ginny," Draco took another step forward. "Please don’t tell me you believe her."

His voice was devoid of any inflection.

Ginny took a deep breath, and began to close the gap between them. "Of course I don’t believe her, Draco."

She noticed Draco relax a bit. "But you did, at first."

Ginny bit her bottom lip as she willed herself not to burst into tears. "I was so shocked by what she said, I didn’t know what to think. I couldn’t think straight," She bowed her head slightly and prayed that he would understand. "I’m so sorry, Draco," she whispered, still looking at the floor.

She heard him sigh, then felt his hand grip her chin and lift her head up so he could look at her. She couldn’t stop the tears any longer, and they flowed freely down her cheeks. "I’m so sorry," she repeated, her voice hitching.

Draco removed the hand under her chin and moved it to her cheek, caressing it softly. "You don’t have to apologise, Ginny. You’re only human. I probably would have thought the same thing."

"No, you wouldn’t have. You would never have doubted my love for you." This statement only made Ginny cry harder.

"You’ve never doubted my love for you, Ginny. I know that. I’ve always known that." He smiled at her, and at the sight of the smile she knew as well as her own, she finally broke down.

Draco pulled her wordlessly into his arms, and held her tightly while she cried. It was all he could do not to join her; the sound of Ginny crying always tore at his heart. As he rested his cheek on her head and stroked her hair soothingly, he realised that there was something he needed to do; something he should have done a very long time ago.

Rubbing her back with one hand, he weaved the fingers of the other through hers. "Come on, there’s something I need to ask you." Leading her over to the lounge, he sat her down, not letting go of her hand, and placed himself on the table in front of her.

Waiting until she’d quieted, he took her other hand in his. Ginny was surprised to see him open his mouth, then shut it again. He took a few deep breaths, and shuffled around a bit. If she hadn’t known better, she’d think Draco was … nervous.

"Draco?" she asked softly.

"Ginny," he said firmly. "This is something I should have done a long time ago, and I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to ask." Taking a calming breath, he slid off the table and got down on one knee in front of her. Ginny gasped as tears began to well up in her eyes again.

"I should have a big speech prepared, but I don’t. I could tell you how much I love you and how much having in you in my life has made me a better man, but you already know that." He smiled at her, and she smiled back through the tears that now streamed once again down her face. "Instead, I’ll just ask you." He moved his thumb across her hand and played with her ring. "You already wear my ring. I think it’s about time we made it legal, huh?" Ginny took a deep, shaky breath, and nodded once. "Virginia Weasley, I love you. So much, it hurts when you’re not right next to me, by my side, where you’ve been for the last nine years. Will you do me the greatest honour in the world and marry me?"

Ginny hiccoughed. "Oh, Draco…" she sobbed, removing her hands from his grip and throwing them around his neck. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against his in a firm kiss. After a moment, though, Ginny pulled back, laughing joyously.

"I take it that’s a yes?" Draco drawled with a grin.

Ginny leaned forward again until their noses were almost touching. "Yes, that’s a yes, Draco Malfoy. I would love to marry you." Draco stood up, taking Ginny with him and lifting her off the floor in a fierce hug. They stood that way for what seemed like an eternity; then Draco finally put her back down, but didn’t remove his arms from around her waist.

Ginny reached up her hand to rest it on his cheek, the glint of the gold from her ring brushing against his skin. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes, the love and joy they felt positively radiating out. Ginny put her other hand on his face and pulled him down for another kiss. This was one slow and passionate, as they showed without words just how happy they were.

Without breaking the kiss, Draco picked Ginny up again. She wrapped her legs around him, and he quickly but carefully carried her to the bedroom. Once they got there, they relieved each other of their clothes, and as Draco pushed her onto the bed and moved to settle on top of her, Ginny wrapped her arms around him tightly, matching him kiss for kiss.

As their bodies joined and became one as they had so many times before, they felt nothing but utter bliss and contentment, knowing they were finally where they belonged – with each other.

* * * * *

Friday, October 10th, 2008

Harry shut the gate behind him and made his way up the path. Upon reaching the front door, he knocked twice in rapid succession, then waited. He heard footsteps, and seconds later, the door opened to reveal Kellie standing on the other side.

"He’s here!" she called out over her shoulder. "Hello, handsome," she said, smiling as Harry leaned over to kiss her cheek.

"Hello, beautiful," he replied. He glanced at her stomach and winked. "Are you carrying an entire Quidditch team in there, or what?" He reached out a hand to pat her stomach, but then hesitated. "May I?" he asked, almost shyly. Kellie nodded her assent, and he gave her swollen belly a small pat.

"It certainly feels like it," she answered with a sigh. "I’m so uncomfortable, and the baby is pushing against my bladder, so the bathroom and I have become well acquainted." She smiled again, but her discomfort was obvious.

"How does a massage sound?"

"For real? I will love you forever!" Harry grinned as she stepped out of the way to let him in. Shutting the door behind him, he made his way to the kitchen, where he found his best friend seated at the table.

"Did you hear that, Ron? Kel said if I give her a massage, she’ll love me forever."

"Doesn’t take much, eh?" Ron retorted with a snort. "And you’re a sucker for doing it."

"Nice, Ron. Your poor wife is in a great deal of discomfort, carrying your child, and you begrudge her a massage?"

Kellie fixed her husband with a glare as she sank awkwardly into a chair. Harry moved up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, gently starting to move his fingers around. "Just for that comment, Ronald, you can cook the dinner. And be quick about it. I’m hungry." Kellie said, crossing her arms in front of her.

Ron stood up and grinned. "You’re game. You’ve always said my cooking sucks."

Kellie tried hard not to smile. "Yes, well. Try not to burn anything, dear. Otherwise I’ll make you go to the States to get me some more macaroni."

Ron made a face and threw up his hands in mock horror. "No, anything but the macaroni! I’m sick of the bloody sight of it." He scooted out of his chair and got some meat out of the freezer. "How’s steak and salad sound?"

"Fine with me," Harry said. He continued to massage Kellie’s neck and shoulders, and she gave him appreciative sighs to tell him he was doing the right thing.

"See what Harry’s doing, Ronald?" Kellie said in a biting tone. "Without complaint? Perhaps I should have married him instead."

Ron wouldn’t be baited. Kellie had had severe mood swings in the last month of her pregnancy, and Ron knew she didn’t really mean the things she said. He was aware of how uncomfortable she was, and he did what he could to alleviate that discomfort. He also tolerated her outbursts and jibes, and took anything she said with a grain of salt.

"Yes, dear," he replied. "Perhaps you should have married Harry. Kellie Potter has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?" He turned back to the stove and lit the grill.

Kellie let out a long sigh and paused. "Thanks, Harry," she said quietly, reaching up to pat his hand. He released her shoulders, and she got up with some difficulty, then shuffled across the room. She came up behind her husband and placed her hand on his back, getting as close to him as her stomach would allow. "Kellie Weasley sounds a whole lot better, though," she said softly, her voice sounding like she was on the verge of tears. "I’m sorry, Ron."

Ron put down the knife he was using to slice the tomato for the salad, and turned to look at his wife. "It’s okay, love. I understand." He placed his hand on her face, and leaned in to kiss her gently. "And you know I’ll get macaroni for you any time you want it." He kissed her again and, when she gave him a silent nod, he went back to preparing dinner.

Kellie went to the fridge. "Something to drink, Harry?" She looked at him for a response, and saw he had a rather wistful look on his face. "Harry?"

He shook his head slightly. "Sorry, what?"

"Do you want a drink?"

He nodded. "Please." She took out two beers and a jug of pumpkin juice. Pouring herself a glass, she gave one beer to Ron, then returned the juice to the fridge and took her glass and Harry’s beer back to the table.

"Is everything okay?" she asked gently, placing her hand over his and giving it a quick squeeze. To her surprise, he squeezed back, but didn’t release her hand. Kelllie frowned slightly, wondering what was bothering him. She was willing to bet a hundred galleons that it had something to do with Hermione.

For Hermione’s 28^th birthday, the gang had decided to go out for dinner, rather than have one of them cook. It had not gone unnoticed by Kellie (nor, she suspected, by any of the others) that Hermione had only had eyes for Harry that evening, and that the feeling was very mutual. Although they’d done nothing more than hold hands, they’d barely moved from each other’s side all night. Then there were the stolen glances at each other when they thought no one else was looking.

Kellie hadn’t realised until she and Ron had gotten home that Harry and Hermione’s behaviour reminded her of her own when she and Ron had first begun dating. Combined with Ron’s comment a few months back that he suspected something was going on, it hadn’t been hard to put two and two together. She just wondered how serious they were, and when they planned on telling everyone.

"Yes," Harry’s voice brought Kellie back to the present. "Everything’s fine." He gave her hand one last squeeze, then released it.

* * * * *

After dinner, they decided to sit outside on the verandah, given that the breeze outside was cool and refreshing. Ron and Kellie sat on the swing, Ron snaking his arm around her shoulder, Kellie resting her hand on his thigh; Harry settled himself on the top step with his back against the railing, so he could look at them.

Harry sighed inwardly as he watched his friends, wondering if now was the time to finally voice the question that had been bothering him ever since he’d first kissed Hermione, all those months ago.

"Can I ask you two a question?" he began quietly. "Will you give me an honest answer?"

"Of course you can, and of course we will, Harry," Kellie said with a smile. "Ask away."

Harry took a swig of his beer, then cleared his throat. It was now or never. "How would you feel if Hermione and I … I mean, if we …" Harry felt the blush rise in his cheeks, and suddenly, he felt embarrassed to voice it out loud.

"If you what?" Ron prodded.

"If you were dating?" Kellie asked. Harry looked at her and nodded. "I think it would be wonderful, Harry." She smiled at him, and he breathed a visible sigh of relief. "I also think that you don’t need to ask for our blessing either, honey."

"I know I don’t," Harry responded, his gaze turning to Ron, who’d been silent. "I just …"

"How long’s this been going on, then?" Ron asked suddenly, interrupting Harry’s sentence.

Harry looked startled. "Nothing’s ‘going on’, Ron. Not yet. We’ve kissed a few times, that’s all." Kellie clapped her hands in delight, but Harry could see that there was nothing even remotely like delight expressed on Ron’s face. He frowned, unsure what to make of his best friend’s reaction.

"I see. So when did you first kiss her, hmm?" Ron received a sharp elbow in the ribs. "Ow! What did you do that for?"

"It’s none of your damn business, Ronald Weasley. Harry, God knows why, wants your blessing, and if you don’t give it this instant, you can find yourself another wife." Kellie turned and glared at her husband. "What’s the matter with you? You should be happy for them!"

Ron held up his hands in acquiescence. "Okay, okay. Don’t get excited!" He let his gaze drift back to Harry who, by now, had an anxious look on his face. Ron tilted his head slightly, needing to ask the question that had swirled through his mind ever since he’d first suspected his best friends were getting more than friendly.

"Do you love her, Harry? Do you really love her?"

Harry pondered the question for a few moments, reading between the lines and understanding perfectly what it was that Ron was asking. He wasn’t just asking if Harry loved her; he was asking if this was it. If Hermione was his soul mate, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. If she was the one he wanted to be the mother of his children and grow old with. And the one answer to all these questions was the same.

"Yes," he answered slowly, accompanying it with a nod of his head.

"Well," Ron replied, draining the rest of his beer. "There you have it then. I guess it’s time for the talk."

Harry looked puzzled. "What talk?"

Kellie’s eyes widened in recognition, and she tutted loudly. "I do not believe this! I’m going inside." With some effort, she slid off the swing and stood, tutting at Ron once more before disappearing into the house.

Ron watched her go with an amused grin, then got up and pushed Harry’s outstretched legs out of the way so he could sit opposite him on the step.

"Harry, Hermione is my best friend. She’s an incredible woman, and her happiness means everything to me. I don’t like seeing her get hurt. So let me warn you now, if you hurt her, I’ll have no choice but to kill you, understand?"

Harry stared at Ron, his mouth hanging open in shock. "You’re giving me the boyfriend talk?" Ron’s infamous boyfriend talks were well known within the family; Draco had been on the receiving end of a more severe version many years ago when he and Ginny had first gotten together. Harry had heard Ron say the same thing to both of Hermione’s previous lovers. He just couldn’t believe Ron was saying it to him.

"Yep." He answered cheerfully, getting to his feet. "Now we’ve gotten that out of the way, you have my full permission to shag her."

"Ron!" He ignored Ron’s outstretched hand, and stood as well. "I cannot believe you just said that."

"Lighten up, Harry. I wouldn’t really kill you. Just hurt you. A lot." Ron grinned at his aghast best friend. "I do have to wonder, though, what she sees in you, with a mug like that. Not your most attractive look, that’s for sure."

Harry was speechless. He should have felt glad that Ron was okay with everything, but his mind was still reeling from the talk.

Ron laughed. "Come on, Harry, don’t look so shocked. Not even you can escape the boyfriend talk. Besides," he added for a wink. "I’m sure that’s not the last you’ll hear of it anyway."

Harry had begun to walk with Ron to the door, but stopped cold. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Ron halted and looked over his shoulder. "Are you kidding? When the media gets wind of this, you’ll be all over the front page of every media outlet there is. Not to mention the scores of Howlers both you and Hermione are bound to get from your legions of fans."

Ron frowned when he realised this was not something Harry had considered.

"What, you haven’t considered the media frenzy this is likely to cause?"

"No," Harry said softly. "I hadn’t given it a thought."

Ron softened his expression. "Well, there’s not a whole lot you can do about it, mate. You’re The Boy Who Lived, and the fact that you’ve found The Girl Who Tamed Him is not going to go unnoticed."

"I guess you’re right," Harry answered, his tone still quiet. He had a pensive look on his face, one Ron knew to mean his mind was churning over, deep in thought.

"Don’t worry about it, Harry," he said. "If anyone can deal with the scrutiny, it’s Hermione. She’s one of the strongest and smartest people I know. She’ll probably give them a run for their money!"

Harry forced a smile onto his face, not wanting to let on how disturbed he was by Ron’s comment. "You’re absolutely right," he rationalised. "There’s nothing we can do, anyway."

"And she’s worth it, right?" Ron asked in a low tone.

Harry smiled again, although this time, it was genuine. "Yes, she is."

Ron grinned back, and stepped forward to embrace Harry. "I’m happy for you, mate. For both of you." He clapped his back once more, then stepped back. "When are you making it official?"

"I don’t know yet. We haven’t really talked about it, so I should speak to Hermione first."

Ron laughed. "That’s a very good idea. I can just imagine Hermione’s reaction if you were to spill the beans about something as important as this without her knowledge." He opened the screen door, and held it open for Harry.

They found Kellie sprawled on the lounge, balancing a bowl of grapes on her stomach.

"I think I’ll head home. Hermione should be back from work soon, and I’d like to be there when she arrives." Harry leaned over the lounge to kiss Kellie’s cheek.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

Harry smiled at her. "Everything’s fine. I’ll talk to you soon. Take care of my niece or nephew, you hear?" He waved at Ron and let himself out.

Ron waited until they heard the door shut, then braced himself. He didn’t have to wait long.

"Was that really necessary, Ronald? Giving him the talk? Harry’s the last person on earth who would hurt Hermione. Shame on you!" However, her voice held no rancour.

Ron smiled and perched himself on the edge of the lounge, running his hand over her tummy. "Just looking out for my best friend, Kel. There’s nothing wrong with that."

Kellie smiled back and placed her hand on top of his, where it rested on her stomach. "Of course there’s nothing wrong with that, but he’s your best friend too, you know."

Ron leaned over and kissed her. "I know. Don’t worry, she’ll be getting the same talk when I see her next."

Kellie burst out laughing. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

"Absolutely," Ron grinned winningly at her. "But you love me anyway."

Kellie hooked her finger on the top of his shirt, pulling him to her. "Lucky for you I do, mister." Ron opened his mouth to reply, but she silenced him with a kiss.

When Ron finally pulled back, he turned his attention to her tummy. Running his hand gently back and forth again, he spoke to their baby. "How’s it going in there, little one?" he crooned softly. "This is your daddy here. I know you can hear me in there … it won’t be long until you’re out here with us, and we can’t wait to meet you."

Ron looked back up at Kellie with a smile, but was dismayed to see her eyes were shimmering with tears. "Oh, Ron," she said softly. "This is one lucky baby … he or she is going to have the best father in the world." She pulled him back for another kiss. "I guess I’m lucky too, having a flame-haired hottie for a husband."

This statement made Ron laugh out loud. "Come on, then," he said, holding out his hand. "This flame-haired hottie needs some sleep. I’ve got to open the shop tomorrow, because Erin’s got the day off." Kellie accepted his hand, and together, they got her off the lounge and made their way to bed.

* * * * *

It was close to eleven by the time Hermione arrived home from work. Harry had been back for two hours, which he’d spent sitting in his room in the dark, thinking and worrying and wondering. He was surprised he hadn’t worn a hole in the carpet with his pacing. He’d almost Apparated to Sirius’, but hadn’t wanted to disturb him, especially since he most likely would have been in bed by then.

However, the two hours alone had allowed him to think clearly about the good and the bad points of pursuing a romantic relationship with Hermione, and he’d made a decision. One he was sure Hermione wasn’t going to like any more than he did, but one he felt was necessary – for both of them.

When he heard the familiar *pop* indicating Hermione’s arrival home, he descended the stairs to see her remove her robes and hang them on the rack behind the door, her briefcase neatly lined up along the wall.

He watched her turn towards him, her face lighting up in the smile that always made his heart skip a beat.

"Hello, handsome," she said, echoing Kellie’s earlier greeting, although this time, it had a very different effect on him.

"Hello, beautiful," he replied, trying unsuccessfully to keep the sadness at the decision he’d made from his voice.

He watched her smile fade. "Harry, is something wrong?" She closed the distance between them in as few steps as possible, her hand going instantly to his cheek. The warmth of her touch immediately radiated through him, and he knew if he didn’t say it now, he never would.

"No, nothing’s wrong," he began, removing her hand from his cheek and bringing it across to his lips, kissing it. "We need to talk."

Hermione frowned, trying hard not to panic. "That sounds ominous." She moved their still-clasped hands to his face and stroked his cheek gently with the back of her finger.

"Hermione," his voice was fractured, broken. "Don’t."

Hermione stared into his eyes, the desperation evident. "Why not?" She stopped the stroking, but left her finger where it was.

"Because it makes me want to …" He paused, staring into her eyes, then sighed in resignation. "It makes me want to do this." With that, he dropped her hand and placed his hands on her arms, pulling her forward and crushing his lips against hers in a frantic kiss.

Hermione immediately capitulated, stepping as close as his grip would allow and kissing him back with the same amount of urgency. She ran her tongue along his lips, and heard him groan as he opened his mouth. Before he could protest or pull away, she slid her tongue inside his mouth, exploring it gently.

Harry groaned again and released her arms, moving his hands to tangle one gently in her hair and placing the other on her neck, drawing her closer. He could smell her shampoo, and her hair tickled him, making his already sensitive nerves go into overload.

He breathed her in as she moved her arms from where they rested around his waist and brought them up so her hands were on his shoulders, embracing him tightly. The last time they’d kissed so passionately was on her birthday a few weeks back, when Harry had kissed her goodnight.

* * * * *

Hermione looked at Harry as he stood with her in front of her bedroom door; they’d both concurred it was time to get some sleep. In the moonlight, his eyes were a deep bottle green, and they shone with an intensity that was almost frightening.

"Well, good night, then," Hermione said, not wanting the night to end.

Harry smiled and brushed the back of his hand down her cheek. "Good night, birthday girl." As it always did lately, his touch sent a small shiver down Hermione’s spine, and it was only with a great deal of control that she was able to turn away and place her hand on the door handle.

She grasped it and made the motion to open the door when he moved to stand behind her, causing her senses to heighten and her hand to shake slightly. He placed his hand over hers and pulled her hand away with minimal resistance.

"You didn’t really think I was going to let you go without a proper kiss good night, did you?" The soft lilt in his voice was provocative, and she felt his lips touch her bare shoulder, and gently make their way up to her neck. She tilted her head and moaned, and it seemed to excite him, because his kisses became firmer as he dragged his lips upwards.

Hermione was powerless to resist as Harry swivelled her around, and she closed her eyes immediately, awaiting the incredible sensation of his lips on hers. However, when she felt nothing after a few seconds, she opened her eyes to find his face hovering inches from hers. She saw him smile, then watched as he placed his hands on her face and pulled her to him, covering her mouth with his own.

Hermione immediately yielded, and time seemed to stand still as she kissed him with a desire she’d never felt with another man before. She thought it would scare her, but it didn’t, because this was Harry. Her best friend. A man she’d known more than half her life, and one she knew would never hurt her. Besides, it felt … right.

Suddenly, after what seemed like mere seconds but was probably a lot longer, he’d pulled away, kissed her forehead, and disappeared into the sanctity of his room…with Hermione wishing she was brave enough to follow him there.

* * * * *

It had been a good half hour before Hermione was able to breathe properly again once she’d managed to open the door and retreat into her bedroom, and her senses hadn’t recovered until she’d woken the next morning.

In the fogged recesses of Harry’s mind, the small, rational voice that had made his decision previously clambered to be heard. You can’t do this, Harry. Let her go. Harry ignored the voice, not wanting to stop kissing her, ever.

However, he finally pulled away to breathe. They both panted heavily, not willing to relinquish their grip on each other. Hermione breathed in, then settled her lips on his jaw line, kissing her way down to his neck. He unconsciously moved his head to grant her better access, and he could feel the moan rise in his throat again. She was driving him mad.

Suddenly, he snapped, the rational voice finally making itself heard. "No," he breathed, taking a step back from her.

Hermione stared at him with her big, brown eyes, her face flushed and her breathing shallow. "What?" she asked breathlessly, trying not to panic. Ever since Harry had come home from Australia, they’d kissed with a frequency that had increased after Sirius had settled in back home. Hermione knew this was a natural progression in their relationship; although they’d not said the words out loud, she believed in her own mind that they were a couple, and thought Harry did too. Now she was beginning to wonder if she was wrong. She prayed she wasn’t.

Harry turned away, not able to look at her without wanting to kiss her again, and he had to say it. He had to be strong. Wordlessly, he grabbed her hand and led her into the living room, sitting her down on the couch. Hermione repositioned herself to sit on the edge as she watched Harry pace up and down in front of the fire.

"I have something to say, and there’s no easy way to put it, so I’m just going to say it." He stopped pacing, but refused to look at her, instead training his gaze on the carpet. "We have to stop doing this, Hermione. It won’t work."

"Have to stop doing what, Harry? What won’t work?’ He detected a slight shrillness in her voice, which he knew meant she was startled and beginning to panic.

"We can’t … kiss anymore. We can’t be any more than friends."

Hermione sucked in an audible breath, and there was total silence for an agonising length of time.

"Why not?" Hermione finally asked through gritted teeth, rising to stand in front of Harry. "Why not?" she asked more forcefully. Still he refused to look at her, so she reached out and tipped his head up with her hand, forcing him to look at her. "Why not?"

He looked at her with steely determination. "Because it won’t work. There are lots of reasons why not." But as he voiced them in his mind – the possibility that Voldemort was still out there, the fact that he’d be putting her into danger if his enemies knew just how much she meant to him, the media and the inevitable coverage – he wondered how exactly he could put it without making it sound like he was just searching for excuses.

Hermione released his chin and crossed her arms in front of her, assuming what Harry called her "battle" stance. "Name me one good reason why we have to remain just friends, Harry James Potter, and I’ll give you five good reasons why we can’t."

Harry held up a hand, ticking them off as he went along. "One, the media will have an absolute field day with us if our relationship was to change. Apart from the howlers, let’s not mention the reporters chasing us every time we step out the door. I wouldn’t want our relationship scrutinised by every newspaper and magazine out there. Two, what if we try, and it doesn’t work? We’ve been friends for so long, Hermione. We’d never get that friendship back. Three …"

"Shut up," Hermione said with a viciousness Harry hadn’t heard in a very long time. "I don’t want to hear anymore. You’ve said enough." She held her hand up in a clear imitation, ticking off her points as she spoke. "One, I’m more than capable of dealing with the media. It’s not like I’ve never been in the spotlight before, and every relationship you’ve ever had has been scrutinised, so you should be used to it. As for Howlers, they’re always good for a laugh. Two, you could say that for any relationship, whether it’s a friendship, or something deeper. Any love is a risk, but it’s a risk you have to take. There are no certainties in life, Harry. If you don’t chance anything, then you could be robbing yourself of the best thing you could possibly have."

She unfolded her arms, and her face visibly softened as she stepped towards him. "Harry, of course it would be a risk if we were to … take it further. But we have the foundation for a great relationship, you know. We already know each other so well, and we’re aware of each other’s flaws. In spite of them, we’re still friends." Her face folded into a small frown, and she reached out a shaky hand and very gently placed it on his cheek. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t respond either.

"And, most importantly, we love each other. Don’t we?" Hermione’s eyes shined with hope as she waited for his response. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest, and her mouth began to dry as he finally spoke.

"Yes, we do. I do love you, Hermione." Hermione breathed deeply and smiled as Harry continued. "But it’s not enough."

That soon wiped the smile off Hermione’s face. "What do you mean, it’s not enough?"

Harry stared at her for the longest moment, pleading with her to understand. "I can’t risk it. I can’t risk loving you then losing you down the track."

"But you won’t lose me!" Hermione cried out in anguish. "You’d never lose me!"

Harry gently took her hand off his cheek and released it. "You don’t know that. Nobody can predict the future, Hermione." He shook his head. "I can’t take that risk," he whispered. "Not with you. I’m sorry."

Without waiting for a response, he brushed past her and into the foyer, where she heard him Disapparate.

Hermione couldn’t recall how long she stood in front of the fire, her mind numb and echoing with his last words. I can't take that risk, not with you. I’m sorry. Finally, she pulled herself together, wondering why there weren’t tears streaming down her face. She eventually realised it was because she had no more tears to shed. Ever since she’d acknowledged how she felt about Harry, her mind had been in constant conflict with her heart, causing her more anguish and grief than any relationship ever had.

Through the shocked haze that clouded her mind, Hermione eventually understood Harry had obviously made up his mind that a romantic relationship between them wouldn’t work, and she could see that nothing she could say would change that. So she would simply accept it, and move on. And maybe, just maybe, he would come to realise what he’d given up – but by then, it would be too late. She would not give him a second chance to break her heart.