The Land of Make Believe

The Land of Make-Believe.

Chapter One: Just The Way You Are.

Your heart knows what your mind can only dream of. Trust your heart.

She stood at the end of a long aisle, the church altar in front of her. The rows of seats either side were packed with family and friends. Masses of red heads adorned the left hand side: her family, the Weasleys. The other side was not as full, but then that was no surprise. After all, he didn't have much family.

She carried on down the aisle alone, unescorted by her father, which was unusual. She could feel the pure silk of the cream gown against her skin, and her heart beat in her throat with excitement. This was it, this was finally it.

As she reached the foot of the altar, she turned to see her husband-to-be, her dream-self fully expecting the mop of black hair and bright green eyes of Harry Potter to be staring back at her. Instead she was met by silver-grey eyes and white blond hair.

Draco Malfoy.

Dream-Ginny gasped, her hand flying to her throat. "You?" she breathed. "Why the hell would I marry you?"

Malfoy sneered, a cruel smile fighting to break through. "I'm your destiny, Weasley," he drawled smoothly. "No escaping it."

"Yes there bloody well is," Ginny spat, clutching at her skirts and turning. She fully intended to run from the church, but a gentle hand touched the top of her left arm. She turned to see Malfoy, this time with a softer look on his sharp, pointed but beautiful face.

"Ginny," he said gently. "You said you loved me." Hurt and confusion struck his fine features.

Ginny's heart felt like it had snapped into place, as if all her life it had been in the wrong part of her body. She loved him. "Draco," she said softly, giving into the overwhelming feelings within her. "I do love you."

His face split into a smile and her took her hand. The both turned to face the traditional Muggle priest and the ceremony began...

Hours later, Ginny Weasley awoke in her bed in the Gryffindor 6^th year girl's dormitory, a lingering image of the wedding night just behind her eyes.

She shuddered. It had seemed so real. She'd married Draco Malfoy. She'd loved Draco Malfoy. Where had Harry been? Last time she had dreamed of a wedding, she had been marrying Harry Potter. Although, if she was honest with herself, it had been a long time since she'd dreamed of Harry without purposefully trying to.

Sighing, Ginny swung her legs over the side of her bed. She felt groggy, as if part of her was yet to wake. It was Saturday, she remembered gratefully. The four girls she shared her dorm room with had yet to wake up. A glance at the small clock at her bedside told her it was only half past eight. Well, I'm up, so I may as well get up, she decided.

In her sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Ginny Weasley had been made a prefect, and therefore had access to the opulent private prefect's bathroom. Ginny wrapped herself in her robe, gathered clothes to wear that day and made her way to the bathroom, seeing only one fifth year Ravenclaw girl hurrying down from the direction of the Astronomy Tower. Someone over slept, Ginny thought with a smirk. Moments later, a sixth year Hufflepuff boy appeared and hurried off in the opposite direction, neither of them spotting Ginny.

Ginny pulled a face at the password, "Scrumptious", and waited whilst the wooden panel which concealed the entrance slid slowly back. The bathroom was a mirror image of the boy's prefect's bathroom (not that Ginny knew that) with a large sunken bath in the centre. Uncharacteristically glad that no one else was there, Ginny started to fill the bath, selecting jasmine bath oil and lots of lilac foam.

Once the bath was full she stripped off her robe and pyjamas, and untied her mass of flame red curls from the bun at the nape of her neck. Slowly, she climbed into the bath, hoping that it would help her shrug off the remaining grogginess from her dream. As she leant back in the bath, the hot water seeming to consume her, she shut her eyes. The images assaulted her again: marrying Draco Malfoy. It was just wrong. The wedding night, which had felt real, so real in fact that she felt like someone had turned the temperature in the bathroom up. Dream-Draco had known what he was doing. Not, Ginny thought, that I ever intend to find out what the real Draco is like. She tried to shudder from the thought, but the residual images of her dream wouldn't allow her to do so.

***

Draco Malfoy was staring at the ceiling. He had been doing so for quite sometime. Weasley, he thought, not for the first time. She'd been haunting his dreams since he had arrived back at Hogwarts for his seventh and final year, and she'd arrived for her sixth year after spending her fifth year in exchange at Beauxbatons Academy in France. He didn't have any memories of her before, at least, none that related the youngest Weasley to the beautiful woman going by the same name now. She was tall, slender and, in his opinion, very well built. Her rivers of red curls made her stand out in any crowd, and when you got close enough, you could get lost in those large, dark blue eyes. At least, Draco imagined he would, since he was yet to get close enough to her to find out. Normally, he would be in hot pursuit of any girl he found attractive, regardless of who she was, but Ginny Weasley was different. Not only was she in Gryffindor, a house which he, as a Slytherin, despised, but also her older brother was best friends with Harry Potter, Draco's archenemy.

Draco groaned. He was not a simple person. True, he was a seventeen-year-old boy, which made him innately interested in some things, but equally, he had been brought up to embrace things that this school certainly did not agree with. His father, Lucius, had once been a Death Eater. One of Lord Voldemort's inner circle, in fact. But when a baby named Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy had avoided the wizard prison Azkaban by convincing the Ministry of Magic that he had been under the Imperius curse. Draco had grown up around the Dark Arts. He had been encouraged to hate, discriminate, and torture others who were different to him, usually those who were poorer than his family, or those who were not of pure blood, or Mudbloods. Ginny Weasley was from a wizarding family, but the Weasleys were dirt-poor. They had six sons, and one daughter, their youngest. Draco had spent his years at Hogwarts delighting in reminding Ron, Ginny and the other Weasleys how pathetic he thought they were.

Poetic justice, really, Draco thought bitterly, that now their youngest sister is the most gorgeous girl in school. Well, one of them. Okay, the one I can't have, which makes her innately more beautiful and alluring than any of those other tarts. Draco was certainly not ugly; he could have almost any girl in the school that he wanted. He'd had the few who interested him in anyway, but the interest never lasted very long. Once he'd gotten all he could get, he'd move on. It was getting boring. Now Ginny Weasley had caught his eye and he was stumped. She hated him; he knew that, because all Gryffindors hated him and the other Slytherins.

Draco rolled out of bed. He wore only his black silk pyjama bottoms. The half light in his room made his broad shoulders and strong back look white. Being Head Boy this year, Draco had his own room, a fact that he greatly appreciated. He selected some clothes from his wardrobe and left the Slytherin dungeon. He made his way upstairs to the Head Boy's bathroom. It could be reached through the prefect boy's bathroom, the entrance to which was just down the corridor from the girl prefect's bathroom.

As Draco reached the top of the stairs and turned left, walking softly down towards the bathrooms, he saw no one. As he passed the girl prefects' bathroom, the door slid open. Framed in the doorway, just two feet from him, was Ginny Weasley. Her long flame red hair was still damp, and she wore only a pair of old pale blue jeans, which had a low waist and fitted very snugly, and a plain white vest top. The handful of material in her left hand was her pyjamas and her robe. Draco felt a jolt as her eyes met his. For a brief moment, he saw a flash of something he'd never expected - warmth. The expression was followed quickly by shock, and then dislike.

"Weasley," he said, his voice like syrup. "Perhaps you might like to get a job," he went on, wishing he wasn't, "so you can buy some clothes that fit."

Her full mouth dropped open. "Then perhaps, Malfoy, you'd like to write home to Daddy for the rest of your clothes. Not everyone wants to look at lumpy porridge first thing in the morning." With that, she spun on her heel and stormed back down the corridor towards Gryffindor tower.

Draco stood, open mouthed, imitating Ginny's own expression. It was the first time she'd every spoken directly to him, and she'd been really harsh. He felt a smile spread across his face. A challenge worth taking up, he decided, and went to bathe.

Ginny was reeling from the sight of Draco's naked torso. Lumpy porridge, I think not. His broad shoulders, smooth chest and flat stomach had been muscular, but only enough for definition. His pale skin had an almost translucent quality that Ginny had never seen before. She could feel the heat in her cheeks. Imagine, after the thoughts she'd been having about him, there he was in the living flesh. Ginny had nearly swallowed her tongue. Hope I didn't look impressed, she thought, reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Cherry Bombs," Ginny said lightly.

"Right you are, dear," the Fat Lady replied and swung forwards.

The Gryffindor common room had filled up since she had left for her bath. Her older brother, Ron, was sitting with his best friends, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger who was Head Girl this year.

"Gin!" Ron called to her. "We've been waiting for you. Are you ready for breakfast?"

Ginny held up her pyjamas. "Won't be a minute," she said, and sped up the stairs and back into her dorm room. She dumped the pyjamas and robe on her bed, and tied her long, damp hair into a loose plait that swung down her back. She pulled a tight fitting sweater over her head, put some socks and trainers on, and went back downstairs to the common room.

"I'm ready," she announced. Ron, Harry and Hermione stood up.

"About time too," Ron said. "Where did you go?"

"I woke up early," Ginny said, following her brother out of the portrait hole. "Decided to have a bath, I just took a little longer than I meant to."

Harry and Hermione were behind Ginny and Ron, holding hands. They had started dating half way through their sixth year. They had written Ginny a very carefully worded letter, not wanting to hurt her because of her crush on Harry. She hadn't admitted to any of them exactly why she hadn't really been bothered about Harry and Hermione going out together, although Hermione had voiced her suspicions to Harry and Ron that there was a connection between her reaction and a student at Beauxbatons. A good looking, male one who Ginny had photos of by her bed. Ginny had had a short relationship with Jacques, the sixteen-year-old wizard in the pictures, but that wasn't why she hadn't been particularly bothered. She'd simply realized that her crush on Harry was just that: a crush. Not love. Probably a little bit of hero-worship, but certainly not love. She felt more eager to admit that fact to herself this morning, and had her own suspicions that it had something to do with her latest interactions with Draco Malfoy, both dreamed and real.

The four of them walked into the Great Hall and took seats at the Gryffindor table. Ginny purposefully sat so that she could see the Slytherin table by the far wall. I just want to sit on this side this morning, she told herself firmly. A quick glanced revealed that Malfoy was not yet done from his bath. Or maybe he's having a shower, Ginny wondered, her mind drifting to images of those broad, pale shoulders being pounded with hot water. Draco Malfoy would never have a soft shower, she had decided, it would have to have pressure, and lots of it.

"Hey Ginny! Earth to Ginny!"

Ginny snapped back to the present. Harry's hand was waving in front of her face. She batted it away playfully.

"What?"

"You weren't listening," he said, attempting to chide her.

That hadn't worked for a couple of years. "I was. Just tell me again," she said, a smile playing round the corner of her mouth.

"We're going to get some extra practise in this afternoon for our match next week," Harry told her. He was (finally) Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain. Ginny had joined the Quidditch team at the beginning of this year, playing as a Chaser. This would be her first match.

"Yes, sir," she said seriously as she helped herself to scrambled eggs.

"You okay?" Ron (the Keeper) asked.

Ginny smiled. "Yeah, I have a whole week to get freaked out. I'm fine." A flash of white caught her eye, and when she turned her head towards the doorway she saw Draco Malfoy, his hair still damp from his bath (or shower), and wearing some very expensive looking charcoal trousers and v-neck black sweater. I look so cheap next to him, Ginny thought to herself, her large dark blue eyes following him to his seat. As he went to sit down, he glanced up and saw her watching. A brief flash of emotion crossed his fine face, but she was too far away to identify it. Ginny quickly glanced down, and was drawn into a conversation with Natasha Patrick, a Muggle-born girl in Ginny's year, and a good friend.

Draco wasn't in the best of moods as he entered the Great Hall. Lumpy porridge, he repeated over and over again. I do not look like lumpy porridge. On the upside, it does mean that she was looking at my body. She has some weaknesses, at least. He walked half the length of the Slytherin table before taking his seat between Crabbe and Goyle, who couldn't be considered his best friends, or even really friends. More like accomplices, or body guards. As he bent over slightly to pull his chair back, he glanced up and immediately focussed on the flash of bright red. Ginny Weasley was staring at him. He almost smiled, until he brought himself under control and started to scowl, but she had already looked away.

He half-heartedly listened and took part in a conversation about Quidditch practise with Malcolm Braddock and Blaise Zabini, two of his teammates. But he seemed unable to stop himself from glancing over at Weasley. She had her head turned towards a petite blond on her right. They were giggling about something, and suddenly Ginny threw her head back and laughed. She's beautiful, Draco thought wistfully, unable to stop himself.

"Draco, are you listening to me?" Pansy Parkinson shouted at him, from three seats down.

"No I wasn't, as it happens," he said truthfully. "And I don't intend to."

"Draco Malfoy!" she screeched, her voice like nails down a black board. "I was asking if your father had been in touch recently."

My father? And why would he be in contact with me? It's not as if he's interested in much of anything I do, Draco thought bitterly. "And why, Pansy, do you consider that your business? I don't."

Pansy glared viciously at him. "Well, I would have thought he'd been in touch," she said, her voice hard. "Mine has."

Draco groaned inwardly. That sort of reason to get in touch was not one he wanted to hear about at the moment. "I wasn't aware your father had conquered the skill of writing yet. He must be a very advanced troll."

Pansy turned a very unfetching shade of puce. "Malfoy, you little-"

"Sod off, Parkinson," Draco said, his voice a bored drawl. He turned away, effectively dismissing her, and in the process, catching Ginny looking at him again. As their eyes met, her cheeks flushed instantly and brilliantly, and Draco allowed himself a self-satisfying smile. So he did have an effect on her, after all.

Before Quidditch practise, Ginny had some Configuration homework to do, an essay about the metaphysical effects of transfiguring a human into a specific reptile. They had to choose the reptile, and write three parchments. Ginny had decided, after discussion with Hermione, to chose a snake, and spent a few hours in the common room, researching and writing. At one o'clock, she went down to lunch with the rest of the Quidditch team: Harry, the Seeker, Ron, the Keeper, Seamus Finnigan and a fifth year, Ellen Davies, the Beaters, and Ewan Rollinson and Natasha Patrick, Ginny's fellow Chasers. As always, Hermione joined them, she would go down to the pitch later with them too.

A cursory glance at the Slytherin table assured Ginny that Malfoy was not there. She sighed with relief. When he'd caught her looking at him at breakfast for the second time, she'd been daydreaming about his bare chest. She could feel slight heat in her cheeks just remembering the expression on his face - first mild shock, then smug satisfaction. Bastard.

They ate at their leisure, and then departed to walk down to the Quidditch pitch. Ginny cheerfully swung the Nimbus 2003 broomstick she carried, a present from her twin older brothers, Fred and George, from the profits of their joke shop, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The day was warm, it was late September, and Ginny turned her face up to the sun, smiling.

"Enjoying yourself?" Ewan asked.

She turned and smiled at him, taking in his chestnut brown hair and sky blue eyes. He wasn't unattractive, but Ginny was unmoved. "It's just a nice day," she said. "Good for flying."

Harry turned round, watching Ginny spread both arms out in the air, returning her face to the sun. He laughed softly. "Gin, you have to get on the broomstick before you can fly."

She opened her eyes and looked down until she met his gaze. "Yes, thank you, oh fearless leader," she said dryly. "I was wondering why my feet hadn't left the ground."

Harry laughed. Two years ago, before her exchange, she would never have spoken to him like that. In fact, apart from her brothers, she would never have spoken to anyone like that. Now she'd gained the confidence to be herself, and become more outspoken. He could tell she felt far more comfortable with others than she had before.

The reached the Quidditch pitch and Harry surveyed his team. "Just loosen up a bit for a few minutes, then come back down and we'll discuss tactics for next week."

In their own time, each member of the team mounted their broomstick and kicked off into the air. Ginny felt the fresh early autumn breeze cut through the red and gold Quidditch robes she wore over her clothes, brushing her face. She rounded the pitch in lazy loops, just enjoying the feeling of being in the air until they were called back down again.

Practise was tiring as Harry was a very thorough captain and wanted to cover every angle. The team were in the air for almost three hours before Harry called them back down.

"Good job, everyone. We'll have another practise Wednesday evening, but you're all looking really good."

Ginny smiled, feeling tired but happy. She took her time in leaving; taking off her Quidditch robes first, revealing the jeans and vest top she had put on that morning. It was still warm, and she was warm from the practise session. The rest of the team were far ahead as she strolled back to the castle alone, lost in thought. Draco Malfoy popped into her head again, and she decided to take a walk around the lake, not feeling like having any company.

She dropped her Quidditch robes and broom by a rock at the beginning of the path that skirted the lake. The sun was lowering, and it reflected on the flat surface, occasionally disturbed by the tentacles of the giant squid in residence. Ginny continued around the lake. She approached an large, flat, old tree stump and sat down on it, leaning back on her elbows and staring out at the lake, lost in thought, wondering why it was that Draco Malfoy had suddenly popped into her dreams.

There was a mocking, and slightly cheerful, voice behind her. "Trying to get some sun on your lumpy porridge?"

She couldn't help herself. Ginny giggled, and then composed herself. She turned her head to see Malfoy behind her; wearing the same clothes she'd seen him in at breakfast. "Being a child of the devil, you won't appreciate the beauty of nature," she said lightly, and turned back to the lake.

"Child of the devil, yes, but a very rich child of the devil," he said smoothly, sitting next to her on the tree stump.

"I think I'd rather be able to appreciate this," Ginny said quietly, watching the reddening sun scatter light across the surface of the lake.

"Oh, I can appreciate it," Draco said. "I just don't want to."

Ginny narrowed her eyes and turned to him. "What are you doing here then?"

"Torturing small furry animals."

"Ah, just like my cat."

"Didn't know you had a cat." She didn't, in fact, have a cat.

"There's very little you know about me, Draco Malfoy."

"I could say the same for you about me," he said, defensively.

"True." She glanced up at him, catching his profile in the reddish light. Her breath caught in the back of her throat as he looked down at her, his lips slightly parted. Little shocks of electricity shot down her back. "I think there's far more to you than anyone knows," she said softly, then with great effort, reverted her view to the lake.

"Or than anyone wants to know," he said, a touch of bitterness in his voice.

"That could be a side effect of being an arrogant git. Did you think of that?"

"Had crossed my mind," he said with consideration. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"How much more is there to you?"

Ginny laughed to cover her shock. The conversation was getting stranger. "I am the Antichrist," she said dryly. "There's a bit. Why do you want to know? Looking for more weak spots?"

"It seems to me that you are lacking in weak spots," Draco said, glancing down at her. "Apart from being a Weasley, of course."

She sighed. He had to ruin it. "Being a Weasley isn't a weakness," she stated. "There's far more to a family than how much money they have." She sat up straight. "The sooner you realise that, Draco Malfoy, the sooner you can have a chance at becoming a normal person, and not a - a - Death Eater in training!" She stood up and turned to storm down the path.

"Oh, Weasley," he said, his silky voice dripping in poison. "Some people don't need money to be happy. You however, will be far happier and more at home on a corner of Knockturn Alley, selling your wares."

Ginny froze and spun round, her face white. "You're an absolute wanker, Malfoy. You're going to die alone. And the sooner the better!" She turned back round and strode down the path, her red hair streaming out behind her.

Draco watched her go, a mixture of satisfaction and disappointment flooding his mind. She had been sitting so close, and from his loftier seating position, he'd been able to see right down that tiny vest top to the well-filled white bra beneath it. Not bad, Weasley, not bad.

Draco chuckled to himself, then felt a slight inkling of an emotion he was not very familiar with: shame. He'd enjoyed her company until she'd taken offence to his comment about her family. People tended to do that, he found. Not that it bothered him. Draco was so self-confident that he really didn't give much thought to what anyone thought of him. Usually. It bothered him now that he'd almost managed to have 'civilised conversation' with Ginny Weasley. Almost.

Sighing, Draco pushed himself up off of the tree stump and stared out at the lake.

"I can appreciate natural beauty, Weasley," he said out loud. I appreciate yours, he added silently. "Bitch."

With that final comment flung at the lake, Draco made his way back to the castle.