The Violin: A Ginny/Draco Instrumental

The room broke into tumultuous applause. Ron had forgotten that Draco was standing next to Ginny and grasped her in a tight hug. Draco stepped back to allow the rest of her family to congratulate her then slipped into the back room they were previously in to retrieve her new violin. She was surrounded by so many people slapping her back hard enough to send her lurching forward and being embraced she'd hardly noticed Draco return when he shoved the violin gently into her hand.

Molly gasped loudly once she realised what Draco had given Ginny. The total value of the violin was probably more then all of their household objects combined.

Charlie had admonished a low whistle at the site of the glittering letters engraved in the case. "You sure know how to spend your money, kid," he said, his rough hands grazing over the entire length of the object.

Draco smiled proudly taking it as a compliment. The Weasleys gathered around to admire the instrument with Draco standing smugly a foot or two away.

"Play a piece for us, Ginny dear," Molly suggested. She had already taken the violin out and was passing it around albeit very carefully for everyone to get a closer inspection.

"Mum," blushed Ginny profusely at the idea. "I don't want to play with everyone watching."

"Come on, little sis," coaxed George. He'd never admit it but he was rather fond of Ginny's violin playing; she was, after all, the only person in the family to take up any musical ambition.

The boisterous congratulating had subsided and now everyone's eyes were fixed on Ginny, who was staring at the floor in flattered embarrassment from all the attention she was receiving.

"Okay, but only one," she agreed finally.

She took the violin from her mother's firm grip placing it on her hip in order to pull the wand that had been stashed in one of her cloak pockets.

"Accio music notes," Ginny said.

The sheets of music zoomed through the room, dodging people left and right to finally settle themselves neatly and in order on the table behind her.

"What are these?" asked Ron shuffling through the papers.

"Just some pieces I wrote," replied Ginny as she twisted the knobs at the end of the neck to get the strings more attuned to their natural sound.

The piece was almost indistinguishable to anyone but Ginny who had littered the pages with comments to herself and ink smudges from the constant rearranging and switching of bar notes.

After a couple more twists and some light plucking to make sure it sounded all right, the violin was in tune and ready. The bow quivered in Ginny's hand slightly. She had played in front of family before but was somehow more nervous this time owing to the fact that she was now considered good enough to be in a professional orchestra.

The pages of musical bars were now hovering in front of Ginny blocking her view of the small crowd now gathered to hear her play. As if on a silent cue her eyes began to read the notes; her brain translating them into movements for her fingers and arm. The violin rested so easily and lightly in her arms but something felt wrong. It was hard to pinpoint but it started in her fingertips and ended in a compressed shiver of her whole body. A quick glance at the others around her prompted a scared eyebrow raise - their faces looked like they were made of stone and their eyes glazed over in what looks like euphoria.

Ginny tried not to think about it. The instrument was perfect. The best thing she had ever owned. She wouldn't be able to bare telling anyone there was something not right with it. It must have just been her own excitement, she thought. Or her fingers weren't used to this piece as she had thought. It had been a few months since she'd played it last.

The piece, even with numerous additions and changes, was still short in comparison to most and ended more quickly then Ginny had anticipated. She stopped the bow abruptly then carried the tune a little longer to make it sound as if she had meant to do just that.

Her mother's eyes had sprung tears and Molly tried hard not to let them flow. The boys were less emotional but no less impressed at their little sister and Draco was sitting (far away from Ron) with a dazed grin on his face.

Ginny coughed nervously at all the intense stares and said, "Well, birthday cake, anyone?"

She was relieved to see everyone seemingly snap out of their stone-clad daydreams and re-join her in the real world. Had her piece really been that good? Her red hair, now turning a light auburn over the years, shuffled across her shoulders as she shook her head at that silly thought.

Charlie was the first to stand up, followed by Bill and the twins, and then her parents. Percy had excused himself a little bit ago to get started on a report about the use of modern day pens and pencils instead of quills for the Ministry. They stretched a little from sitting in cramped positions then ambled toward the kitchen to partake in Molly's famous birthday cake.

"What kind did you ask for this year, Gin?"

Her mother slapped the hand, George's no doubt, that went to take a small scoop of frosting before the ceremonial cutting.

"She made most of it herself," interjected Molly before Ginny could answer. Ginny shrugged as though making a cake was easy, though the Muggle way was much more difficult then a wave of the wand. Her mother was no help, either. Arthur had charmed the appliances in The Burrow to transfigure themselves once a year for Ginny's birthday so that was the only time Molly had practice with Muggle stoves.

"No wonder it tastes horrible," Fred grinned earning a playful swap on the shoulder from his mother.

"If it was so horrible you wouldn't be eating it," Ginny pointed out then added as an afterthought, "and it's chocolate."

Molly interrupted again, this time to give Ginny the infamous Weasley cake-cutting knife. To the untrained eye it was merely another kitchen knife with no special qualities. It was ordinary looking, being about a foot long total with a one sided smooth blade, except that it had all of the Weasley's names scribbled on it in magical ink so it wouldn't rub off. But to a Weasley it held tradition and a load of family memories. The earliest time in which she'd participated in this event Ginny could recall was cutting of the cake for the twin's birthday; she was four years old, walking around the house chattering merrily about what she couldn't remember, though at the time it seemed important.

Her brothers were huddled around the small table talking amongst themselves. It was relatively quiet except for the sound of her own voice and that was never a good sign in the Weasley house. Even at four she'd realised they were up to something and they were leaving her out. She'd walked tentatively up to their hunched backs holding her breathe not to make a sound, trying vainly to peer over the much taller physiques blocking her view.

Naturally they all knew she was behind them as it was common knowledge that Ginny Weasley could not keep quiet to save her life. Just as she had been about to jump up abandoning all precautions in the midst of the action, they stepped back. She'd let out a scream of fright and fled the room. Of course, Molly and Arthur hadn't got nearly as much pleasure out of their daughter being scared out of her wits by a seemingly decapitated head perched on the cake but that was beside the point at hand. It had been, afterall, just an engorged plastic doll head from one of Ginny's Muggle toys.

Ginny smiled to herself at the fond memory accepting the knife happily.

"Hey Ginny, remember when you were four and we scared you with the doll head on the twin's cake?" Charlie mirrored her smile with his own wolf-ish grin.

"Charlie," warned Molly.

"What?" he said innocently. "It was funny!"

Draco cocked an eyebrow at the mention of the prank. Ginny had almost forgotten he was standing there, lost amidst the sea of family members.

"I'll tell you later," whispered Ginny.

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and set his eyes on the decadent mound of swirled frosting and moist chocolate insides not visible under everything else. Ginny sliced the first piece of cake setting it onto a small paper plate decorated with different coloured balloons and confetti (her father boasted later about how easy it had been to buy these from a Muggle grocery store).

Ginny grinned to herself when Draco pushed aside the cake with a fork to analyse the motionless decorations. He personally thought it was rather boring, that was not unexpected though bearing in mind the plates were made by Muggles.

George and Fred had started to bicker loudly at who got the piece with the most edible letter candies, distracting Ginny's attention away from the curious boy still unamused by her father's party favours. Molly settled the matter by informing the twins that Charlie and Bill, being the oldest, would get the two wedges. They grumbled to themselves then slinked off, cake in hand, to begin work on sweet revenge.

"They do this every year," Molly sighed.

"Why don't you just make them their own cake?" blurted Draco in his old Malfoy tone. He instantly bit his tongue with regret. He'd done well so far not saying anything crude to Ron but it seemed a hopeless cause now. Ginny blushed furiously at the scrutinising look Arthur gave her fiancée. She proceeded to blush even further at what she had thought of him as. No one yet knew they were engaged to be married.

The silence was inauspicious and awkward. Molly forced a smile at the young man, trying to take what he'd said in good humour. She had to reason with herself that he was still a Malfoy and had only just been properly introduced to the family.

"Come on, Draco," squeaked Ginny, groping for his hand to pull him toward the door. "Let's watch the sun set."

Draco now had a taste for telling the Weasley's what he really thought of them. A sharp tooth pierced a small hole through his tongue sending spurts of blood through his mouth and stopping him from saying more. Instead he followed Ginny reluctantly, taking two bottles of pink champagne with them.

The last rays of spring sunlight peered at them over small green hills; the sky was already blue black in the East. Ginny could just make out a few gnomes dodging behind trees Molly had planted only two years ago and making their way into the little garden patch of vegetables. She sighed contentedly and plopped down on te grass motioning for Draco to sit next to her.

Draco's words hesitated in his mouth. He wanted to keep his pride and dignity. No Malfoy should ever have to apologise to a Weasley, fiancee or not. It was below him, like mud stuck on the bottom of his shoe.

But Ginny didn't seem to mind. She had willingly forgotten what just happened, either out of ignorance or reluctance in accepting the fact that he would never truly fit in.

"Champagne?" she asked, breaking the hush of cool air passing between them.

Draco nodded curtly, plucking at the grass. Ginny brandished a long cherry oak wand she had got with the money saved up from amateur violin performances, muttering a spell for the champagne bottle's cork to come out and two glasses to appear, before Draco waved his hand.

"Let's just drink straight from the bottle."

"What?" asked Ginny incredulously.

Draco never was one to drink much. He seemed so stressed lately though and he wouldn't tell Ginny why. He frequently woke up screaming with sweat dripping down his face in rivulets. Ginny tried not to notice the glazed look in his eyes when he came home from The Leaky Cauldron or the Dark Mark on his arm that had been glowing too often for comfort lately.

She shrugged and took a swig anyway. The liquid swished over her tongue and teeth before leaving a burning path down a throat not used to the sensation of alcohol. She coughed and spluttered from the scorching pain.

"What did you put in this?" She eyed the bottle accusingly.

"Scotch, it adds flavour," he replied.

Draco uncorked the second bottle with a small 'pop' and drank greedily, grasping onto the neck of it like a young child.

Ginny moved closer to Draco, who had leaned back on one elbow, and laid her head on his chest. The champagne bottle sagged in her loose grasp. Together they watched the sun slowly disappear and the sky plunge into total black dotted with sparkling stars.

"Look." Draco's arm came slowly up to point at a constellation of stars to the South. "That group right there is the constellation of Draco."

"Liar!" giggled Ginny. Her bottle of champagne was almost empty and the effect was magnified in her heavily liquored body.

"I'm serious," said Draco in a completely non-serious manner.

"Why would they name a bunch of stars after you?" she asked, still laughing.

He shrugged thin shoulders in resignation. "Maybe 'cause I'm a Malfoy and I'm so good looking," he slurred.

Ginny snorted then suddenly shivered from a blast of frosty air. "I'm cold, let's go inside."

In the process of standing up, which one should note is difficult when under the influence of alcohol, Ginny managed to get support from Draco then accidentally push him down from the weight. This sent her into another fit of liquor laden giggles quieted by his annoyed glare.

Once upright, they managed to stumbled through the front door. They'd been outside longer then was anticipated and the house was now eerily silent and deserted; the bottom half anyway. Both of Ginny's parents were tucked away in their small room discussing the matter of Ginny and Draco's relationship that Arthur refused to think of as serious.

The drunken pair tried desperately to sneak into Ginny's old room without waking anyone. The plan would have worked had it not been for Ginny stopping suddenly on the stairs to chat with someone in a picture resulting in Draco hitting into her backside, sending her lurching forward. She landed with a thud and a squeal of amused delight.

"Ginny?" called Molly.

"It's just me and Draco," Ginny called back, picking herself up and ascending the stairs again.

The person, Great Aunt Elisabeth, in the photo she'd been talking to chuckled at them softly from her perch on the left wall. Draco glared, puffing his chest and trying to walk without looking like he was so obviously not intoxicated.

He almost hit into Ginny again when she paused in front of her doorway to make sure no one had decided to take her room instead of their own old one.

"Stop doing that!" he hissed at her back.

She turned her head and gave him a wry smile before swinging open the door. The room was much as it had been when she'd moved out three years ago. There were still old childhood dolls laying lifelessly on the floor and even, to Ginny's embarrassment, a few moving pictures Colin had taken of Harry right before he left Hogwarts. She quickly tore them off the wall throwing them in a crumpled heap in a waste bin. Ginny muttered something unintelligible then flopped down rather clumsily on the bare bed.

"Am I supposed to sleep on the floor?" asked Draco, noticing the single bed was only big enough to fit Ginny comfortably.

"No," she answered, "I figured I could sleep on you. You could be my full body pillow."

That vexingly wry smile didn't leave her face once. Well, more of a smug smile if you thought about it. "Ha ha," said Draco dryly. Like hell if she really thought he'd go for that. It was bad enough he had to stay in this god forsaken house under the ever-so-conveniently watchful eye of Ginny's older brothers.

"Come on Drakie," begged Ginny using the despised nickname she'd made up.

Draco cringed. Anything to shut her up.

"Fine," he sat down on the edge of the bed to start untying his shoelace. "but if I wake up tomorrow sore, I'm blaming it on you." His shoes fell with two clunks softened by a discarded blanket spread on the floor.

He climbed on all fours slowly up the mattress then under the sheets to get situated comfortably. His head was already starting to pound with the effort to move any limb at all and he would have liked nothing more then to sleep but Ginny was wide awake.

Draco could smell the champagne on her breathe. Or was that his own harsh breathing making that odor? Her grin was lopsided and her kiss more forceful then anticipated. He met her force with his own dominating power, slamming Ginny gently into the hardened mattress.

"Draco, wait," she breathed. "My parents will hear us."

Draco scoffed at the remark. "With seven children they get a lot of action on their own." It was meant as an insult but Ginny still cackled merrily. Her parents. Having sex. Eurgh. Her thoughts were interrupted by Draco's lips pressing on hers in a fiery befuddled passion.

His mood had changed quickly. If Ginny wanted to fool around he'd give her what she wanted, no less pleasuring himself along the way. It was so simple, almost too much, to overpower her body. In her drunken state she fought back but it was useless - no matter how hard she wished or tried he was stronger then her by a lot. A small pleasured whimper escaped her mouth before being muffled by Draco's lips again.

His hands fumbled blindly with the buttons of her shirt before decidedly ripping them off in annoyance. Stupid Muggle made clothes. In retaliation for ruining her favourite blouse Ginny tore open Draco's own buttoned shirt sending them flying through the room and smacking into walls. She smiled innocently when he growled at her in a menacing tone.

"You're going to have to do better then that, lover boy," she said sweetly.