'Tis but Thy Name

Tis but thy name that is my enemy

-Romeo and Juliet-

Ginny looked up from her schoolbook to see a golden key approximately an inch tall dangling from a golden chain in front of her. The key had tiny diamonds and rubies imbedded in the loop at the end, and sparkled in the light coming from the window as if it had a life of it's own. She rather thought it was winking at her.

She swiveled in her seat at the table to see her Aunt Sydney grinning at her. Aunt Sydney was her father's sister, and at the Burrow for a few days to visit.

"What's this?" Ginny asked, indicating the key necklace.

"A family heirloom," her aunt said mysteriously. "And a story."

"Are you going to tell it to me?" Ginny asked. "And what kind of heirloom is that?"

"Keep your hair on," Aunt Sydney grumbled, pulling out a chair and sitting down facing Ginny. She held up the key and examined it speculatively.

"This," she said, "is a necklace that has been passed down from Weasley woman to Weasley woman for generations. It's given to the next holder on the occasion of their fifteenth birthday."

"Why?" Ginny asked.

Aunt Sydney shrugged. "No one knows. Legend has it that there's a special fate tied to the necklace, and a curse that must be lifted by a Weasley woman and someone from one of the other pureblood families."

Ginny stared at her.

"That's all just myths, of course," Aunt Sydney said with a shrug. "But, since it was your fifteenth birthday last week, the necklace rightfully belongs to you." She held it out, and Ginny took it and fastened it around her neck.

"It comes with a request," her aunt said.

"And what's that?" Ginny inquired

"Unlock your legacy," Aunt Sydney said. "My aunt told me that when I was your age, and her aunt before her. It sort of goes with the key, and I assume it's a bit of advice about your life."

"Unlock your legacy," Ginny repeated. "It sounds reasonable."

"Never lose the necklace," her aunt advised. "Keep it with you always. It's charmed not to get dirty, so you never have to take it off."

"So, how long do I get it?" Ginny asked.

"Until the next Weasley woman turns fifteen," Aunt Sydney said. "Which won't be until your brothers have children."

Ginny laughed. "And who would want to marry them?"

"Ah, that's what you don't seem to realize," her aunt said, with the air of someone imparting great knowledge. "The Weasley women may have a pretty traditional necklace, but the Weasley men have irresistible charm."

Ginny looked skeptical. "Is that so?"

"That's what Arthur's always telling me," Aunt Sydney said with a smile.

*

Later that year, when Ginny was at Hogwarts again, a very strange thing happened.

She was rushing to Care of Magical Creatures, Luna at her side, when she turned a corner and ran smack into the most loathsome person on the planet, spilling their schoolbooks all over the hallway.

Draco Malfoy.

"Watch where you're going, Weasley," he snapped, bending to pick up his books.

"Maybe if you didn't walk around with your head so far up your arse, you could watch where you're going," she snapped back.

"You're the one running around corridors without so much as a glance upward," Malfoy argued. "It's not my fault if you start banging into things."

Ginny sighed, rolled her eyes, and continued picking up her books, doing her best to ignore Malfoy.

A ray of sunlight sparkled off the clasp to a handsome, leather-bound book. Which was odd, as it wasn't the right time of day for sunlight to be coming in the windows of that particular corridor.

She picked up the book, and saw that the clasp was actually a clever golden plate with a keyhole in it attached to the book. The plate was set with diamonds and emeralds, and the thought of anyone being able to spend that much on what was obviously a journal astounded her.

But that was the Malfoys for you.

There was writing in gilt letters across the top, but before she could read it a long fingered hand snatched the book from her grasp.

"Stay out of my things, you filthy Weasley," Malfoy snapped.

"I was only trying to help you pick them up," Ginny lied.

"You were snooping," Malfoy accused. "But, then again, it's you. So I'm not really surprised. One would think you'd have gotten over any diary fetish you may have had, but you're apparently a glutton for trouble."

Ginny flinched. "Malfoy, I'd keep that and any other nasty things you have to say to yourself," she said coldly. "Unless you want to have great bats flying out of your nose...again."

A slash of red danced across his high cheekbones. "You'll pay for that one, Weasley. Mark my words."

"You can't intimidate me, Malfoy," she said, rising to her feet and glaring up at him, though he had to be more than a foot taller than her.

Malfoy sneered down at her. "I've not even begun to try."

*

"Octavius Lucius Malfoy!" called a small, redheaded girl of fifteen, her hands on the hips of her simple blue gown.

"Guenivere Amelia Weasley," a well-dressed, silver haired young man of sixteen returned as he strode down the path towards her. He was clad in a silver doublet and green tights, a plumed hat resting on his head.

He practically smelled of money, which was foreign to Guenivere. She was a servant in his household, as her parents and grandparents had been. But, as she'd been in his Manor most of the time since she could walk, they'd developed a strange sort of friendship.

"Don't Guenivere Amelia me," she said sternly. "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago."

"I beg your forgiveness," he said. "Something came up that I simply couldn't ignore."

"What was it, may I ask?" she inquired as she turned to walk beside him, heading down towards the lake.

"Castor was being difficult again," Octavius sighed.

Guenivere halted in the middle of the road. "What did you to do him?"

"Set Lady Gallana on him," Octavius said with a wry grin. "What did you think I did? Bound and gagged him in the dungeons?"

"I wouldn't put it past you," she muttered, falling into step with him once more.

"Why, Guenivere, I am hurt," he said sadly. "I cannot bear for you to think such things of me."

"They're all true," she pointed out.

"Most of them are true," he corrected. "I would never do anything too terrible to my own brother."

Guenivere gave him a disbelieving look as they turned off the path into the woods.

"Often," he added blandly, grinning at her. "Besides, if I tied him up on a regular basis it would be suspicious, and I am nothing if not sneaky."

"On that point I can wholeheartedly and unreservedly agree," Guenivere said cheekily.

"If you weren't a lady..." Octavius started, then trailed off threateningly.

"Then what?" she demanded, unafraid of his threats. She'd been hearing them since they were children.

"You don't want to know," he replied lightly.

She laughed and started running, since the lake had come into view. He followed after her, and she heard him laugh too.

The lake was their secret. They'd happened upon it when they were nine, and had been sneaking off to swim ever since. Guenivere had fashioned herself a swimming outfit from a spare bolt of cloth she'd found in one of the unused rooms in the east wing of Malfoy Manor, and wore it under her clothing when she and Octavius planned to swim.

She hastily undid the laces of her bodice and wriggled out of her gown. She was quite proud of the sewing job she'd done on her swimming outfit, although it bordered on indecent. The bottom was essentially a pair of trousers cut above the knee, and the top was a simple square with holes cut for her head and arms. With her calves and arms bare, she was glad that no one but Octavius would see her. Her mother would have a fainting fit.

Octavius always teased her about her outfit, saying that she most certainly didn't look like a lady and therefore he could carry out all those threats he'd made. She returned that she'd like to see him try, as she had more magic in her little finger than he had in his whole body. They would continue to bicker good-naturedly until one pushed the other into the water.

"Are you coming in or not?" Octavius called from the water.

"I'm coming," Guenivere shouted, tearing off her stockings and boots as fast as she could. "You simply don't have to undo as many buttons as I do."

When her feet were finally bare, she darted towards the water, climbed up on a large boulder that stuck out a few meters into the lake, and dived off it. The water was deliciously cool, and lapped at her shoulders as she kicked her legs to keep her head above water.

Octavius started swimming towards her, a distinctly malicious gleam in his eye. She recognized it, and promptly disappeared beneath the surface as she tried to escape him.

A fast-paced game of tag ensued, with Guenivere trying desperately not to laugh and give herself away.

*

Examining her necklace closely led to the discovery of a word etched in flowing script along the stem of the key. Legacy was the word. Ginny supposed that it had to do with the bit of advice about unlocking her legacy, and left it at that.

Ginny was sitting in the courtyard idly worrying her necklace and skimming her History of Magic textbook when Harry approached her.

"Hey, Ginny," he said. "Do you know where Ron and Hermione are?"

"Hermione's in Arithmancy," Ginny said. "But Ron's got a free period. He's usually with you, isn't he?"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, but he darted off after class and I haven't seen him since."

"Draco Dormiens nunquam titillandus," Ginny said wisely.

Harry looked at her as if she was insane. "What about Malfoy?"

"It's Latin," Ginny sighed. Harry still looked blank. "It's the school motto," she added.

"I forgot the school had a motto," Harry said. "What does it mean?"

"Never tickle a sleeping dragon," Ginny said.

"And what does that have to do with Ron?" Harry asked, confused.

"Whatever he's doing, he doesn't want you to know, or else he would have told you," Ginny explained.

Harry nodded, looking vaguely disconcerted. "What could he be doing that he wouldn't want me to know about?"

Ginny shrugged. "Dunno."

"Oh, isn't that sweet?" came the distinctive drawl of the boy they all loved to hate. "Potter and the Weaslette. Does Weaselbee know you're shagging his baby sister, Potter?"

Harry turned a glare on Malfoy. "Don't talk about her that way."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Harry, he's just trying to get a rise out of you. And Malfoy, it is entirely none of your affair whether Harry and I happen to be jumping in broom closets together or not."

Harry looked distinctly nauseated at this.

"Oh, so you admit it, do you?" Malfoy said, raising a pale blonde eyebrow.

"Just because you're madly jealous doesn't mean you have to be a pain in the arse, Malfoy," Ginny said sweetly. "But then again, if I was you, and Pansy Parkinson was the best I could get, I'd probably be jealous, too."

"Couldn't you get a little more creative, Weasley?" Malfoy sighed. "I mean, your brother's best friend. Why not do something that's not utterly predictable for once."

"Harry and I aren't seeing each other," Ginny said haughtily.

It was as if Harry had disappeared into the background. The Boy Who Lived, Hero Extraordinaire, simply stood there and let Ginny and Malfoy bicker at each other.

"Oh, there's hope for you yet," Malfoy drawled. Then he looked her up and down, adding, "Wait...you're a Weasley. Forget I said that bit about hope."

"Oh yeah? Malfoy, why don't you go ritually sacrifice a squirrel or something?" Ginny said.

"But it's so much fun to torment you," Malfoy said. "You really make it too easy."

"Oh, look," Ginny said. "Here comes your pug-nosed girlfriend, Malfoy. Better toddle off now before she starts getting jealous."

"And why exactly would she be jealous of you?" Malfoy replied with a smirk. "I mean, you and I both know you're insanely attracted to me, but she doesn't realize it."

"You conceited bastard," Ginny spat. "I am most certainly not attracted to you."

Which was, now that she thought about it, a complete lie. From a purely aesthetical point of view, Malfoy was way too handsome to be allowed. His high cheekbones, aristocratic nose and forehead, delectable lips, and Quidditch trained body were enough to make any reasonable girl swoon. He must have traded in his morals for an extra serving of sexy.

"Keep telling yourself that, Weasley," he said silkily. "I'm sure it will comfort you when you're all alone in your bed tonight."

Ginny did the first thing that occurred to her. She spat at his feet.

"Draco?" Pansy said in her high-pitched voice. "Come see this!"

"I'm needed elsewhere," Malfoy said in a low tone. "Dream of me, Weasley."

And with that, he walked away, leaving Ginny gaping indignantly behind him.

"What was he on about?" Harry growled. "Slimy, foul, ferret-faced git," he added spitefully.

"Yeah," Ginny said. "Yeah...ferret-faced. Prat."

"Are you okay?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Fine," Ginny said. "Malfoy just makes me so..."

Flustered.

"...angry," she finished determinedly.

*

"I've got you!" Octavius shouted joyfully, wrapping his arms around her and dunking her under the water. He was standing firmly on the bottom of the lake, but since he was taller than her, her feet touched nothing but liquid.

Guenivere laughed as he dragged her back up for air. "So you did. Now let me go."

"Never," he said heartily. "I will stand here and continue to dunk you until we become old and decrepit."

"What about food?" she asked logically, grabbing his forearms for support and settling her back against his torso. It was entirely inappropriate, of course, and had it been anyone but Octavius she would have been worried about appearances.

"We'll catch fish," he said happily. "Which I shall do one handed, as I've got to keep a hold of you."

Guenivere tipped her head backward in order to look up at him. "I don't like fish."

"You will have to suffer," Octavius said unconcernedly.

Hoping to catch him off guard, she wrenched her body and tried to push out of his arms. However, Octavius was very quick, so she only succeeded in turning herself around so that she was facing him.

All of their own accord, her arms settled round his neck.

He was giving her a very strange, almost hungry look.

It made her feel all flustered.

*

"No," Ginny said forcefully. "There has been a mistake. You are not my Potions tutor."

Malfoy seemed to be thinking along the same lines, judging by the pained look on his face. "Snape must hate me," he said heavily. "There is no other explanation."

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," Ginny said. "We could always say that you tutored me and go back to our respective common rooms."

"Anxious to get away from me, Weasley?" Malfoy asked in a knowing tone.

"Malfoy, this is you," Ginny said reasonably. "Do you even have to ask?"

"I understand," he said. "You're afraid you might lose control and suss me down right here in the Potions classroom."

Ginny glared at him. "I am going back to my common room now."

"No, you're not," Malfoy said. "We've got a tutoring session to do. I shall tell Snape if you leave."

"Snitch," she said nastily.

"It's what I do best," he replied. "Now, what exactly are you having trouble with?"

Ginny stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he returned. "Come on, get your potions book. Let's get this over with."

"Well," Ginny said, flipping through the pages of her book, "it's this bit about the inter-reacting properties of moonstone."

"Ah, that one confused me too," Malfoy said, pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill. "But, you see, it's quite simple. All that you have to do is this...."

An hour and a half later, as they were packing up their things, Ginny was marveling that she and Malfoy had spent that much time together and not murdered each other in cold blood.

Malfoy was apparently thinking along the same lines.

"Weasley?" he said. She turned inquiringly to him. "If you tell anyone about this...this not-being-nasty thing...well, I'll deny it."

"Ergh, why would I tell anyone?" Ginny said with a shudder. "One, they wouldn't believe me. Two, if they did believe me, they'd think I was off my onion."

"You are off your onion," Malfoy pointed out.

"Same to you, Malfoy," Ginny said without rancor.

Then it happened again. A ray of light that wasn't there sparkled off the lock of Malfoy's journal. Ginny looked at it again, and saw the same gilded words across the front.

"What is that, Malfoy?" she asked, gesturing to the book.

"Heirloom," Malfoy said with a shrug. "It'd be a lot more interesting if I had the key, though."

"The key?" Ginny said, something niggling in the back of her mind.

"Yeah," Malfoy said. "No one's ever had the key, so no one in my family knows what's in it. It's got all sorts of charms around it that make it spell-proof, so you have to use the key to get it open."

Ginny nodded. "Hm. That's weird."

Malfoy shrugged. "We're a strange family."

*

He kissed her.

He was kissing her.

And she was kissing him back.

Wow.

She had never been kissed before. It was more intense than she'd ever imagined. his hands were round her waist, and hers were in his silver blonde hair. If she had been standing, she would have fallen down.

"Love?" he said raggedly, pulling his lips from hers.

She missed the contact. "Yes?"

"Are you alright with this?" he asked worriedly, cupping her cheek in his hand and running the pad of his thumb up and down her cheek.

The motion was distracting. "I'm...more than alright with it," she said breathlessly. "If you don't kiss me again, I'm going to burst into flame right here and now."

"Well now, we can't have that," he said, before firmly placing his lips back on hers.

She didn't think anymore.

*

Ginny's eyes shot open.

She'd just had the most confusing dream. She was in water, sopping wet, wearing a pair of cut-off trousers and...

Kissing Malfoy.

For the third time this week.

What on earth was she doing dreaming about kissing Malfoy? But, it had been strange. No dream she'd ever had before had felt that real, felt like it actually happened. It was too unusual.

Out of habit, she began to worry the key on her necklace between her fingers.

She looked down at it. A key. To a lock no one could find.

A lock, with a key no one could find.

It all clicked.

She had to find Malfoy. She had to find him now.

She threw on a dressing gown, shoved her feet into a pair of slippers, and ran out of her dormitory, down the stairs, and out the portrait hole.

Halfway to the Slytherin dungeons it occurred to her that she didn't know the password. Oh well, she'd find a way.

Ron, after much wheedling, had told her where the entrance to the Slytherin common room was. She'd known the location since her third year, but hadn't had a reason to go down there.

She reached the entrance and stood there racking her brain, trying desperately to think of an alternate way in.

Which was when the stone door slid open and Draco Malfoy walked out.

They gaped at each other for a few moments, before Malfoy shook his head.

"Why am I not surprised?" he asked on a sigh. "Did you dream it, too?"

"What?" Ginny said in astonishment.

"Water," Malfoy said, frowning in thought. "Weird pantyhose. Lots of kissing. Right?"

"Well, I don't know about the pantyhose," Ginny teased.

"Oh, sod off," Malfoy snapped. "I come outside to pace and think, and here you are."

"We've been having the same dream," she reminded him. "That's not normal."

"Now, that you don't know," Malfoy said thoughtfully. "I mean, people all over the world could be having the same dreams about each other and simply be too embarrassed to say anything."

Ginny stared at him for a moment. He made an excellent point.

"That's not why I'm here," she said quickly.

"It's not?" Malfoy asked doubtfully.

"No," Ginny said. "I'm here to look at that journal heirloom thing of yours."

Malfoy frowned at her. "Why?"

She pulled her necklace from the collar of her nightdress. "I have the key."

Malfoy snatched the necklace from her grasp, which was a tad uncomfortable as it was still around her neck. He got right up close to her in order to examine it, which brought back memories...more like echoes of dreams...of him kissing her.

"You just might be right," Malfoy decided. "Where did you get this?"

"It's a family heirloom," Ginny said dryly.

"But why?" Malfoy said thoughtfully. "Why would the Malfoys have a locked book that the Weasleys had the key to? We hate each other."

"I don't know," Ginny said. "Why are we having strange dreams about each other?"

"It doesn't make sense," Malfoy said, staring at the key. Then he looked up at her. "I'll go get my book."

"I'll wait here," Ginny said.

Malfoy nodded and rushed off.

*

"What is going on here!" came the thundering tones of Apollo Malfoy, Octavius's father.

Guenivere and Octavius broke apart from their passionate embrace to see the head of the Malfoy family storming towards them, a look on his face that boded ill for all concerned.

"Father," Octavius started, "I can explain..."

"It seems obvious to me," Apollo snarled. "What on earth were you thinking, boy? A servant girl? She is beneath you."

"Don't talk about her like she isn't here," Octavius growled.

"Oh, by the gods," Apollo said vehemently. "It's too late, isn't it? You've already begun to think of her as an equal. Next you'll be telling me you love her."

"I do," Octavius said stubbornly.

"You think she's a pretty little crumpet," Apollo said. "It's not the same thing."

"I know her, Father," Octavius insisted. "I know she's my equal, possibly even my superior. At least in all things important."

Guenivere glowed, despite the gravity of the situation.

"You've bewitched him, you nasty little girl," Apollo snarled, turning on her.

"She most certainly has not," Octavius put in indignantly.

"I have not," she said. "I love him, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Oh, is that the delusion you're laboring under?" Apollo inquired in a silky, beautifully threatening voice. "You've no idea what I'm capable of, girl."

"I have a name," she said as coldly as him. "It's Guenivere, and I refuse to be called 'girl.'"

"You speak above your station," Apollo warned. "I would not cross me, if I were you."

"Well, that's because you have no spine," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You and your family are finished in my household," Apollo said calmly.

Guenivere's heart sank. Where would they get money? How would they survive?

When would she see Octavius again?

*

"Come on," Malfoy said, coming back out of the common room with the book under his arm. "We're going somewhere we won't be interrupted."

"Good idea," Ginny agreed.

*

"Were you followed?" a low voice asked.

"No," Guenivere replied. "I'm certain of it."

Octavius emerged from the shadows, and she ran and embraced him. "I missed you," she whispered.

"Come, Guenivere," he said in amusement. "We've work to do."

"It's a good think you found that dictation charm, or both of our hands would be too cramped to finish," she said.

*

They reached a small, unused classroom, and Malfoy shut and locked the door.

"Now, give me that key," Malfoy said, in the tones Ginny felt certain he used on house-elves at home.

"I most certainly will not," she said. "It's my key, I'll unlock it."

"It's my book," Malfoy shot back.

Ginny unclasped the necklace, intending to give it to him just so they could get on with it already. But, as soon as his hand touched it, he pulled back as if burned.

"Apparently I won't be taking it," he said, examining his now red hand. "It must be charmed."

"Then I won't risk touching that journal," Ginny said. "You hold it, and I'll put the key in."

As Malfoy held the book between his long-fingered hands, Ginny finally got a close look at it.

"Find the key to your legacy," she read the gilt letters across the top. "Someone has a sense of humor."

"Why?" Malfoy asked.

"Unlock your legacy," Ginny said. "It's what I was told when I received the key."

"Figures," Malfoy said with a shrug. "Unlock it already."

Ginny obeyed. When she turned the key, the lock made a loud click. Malfoy opened the cover, and saw the words written in flowing script along the title page of the book.

The Legacy

A Firsthand History of the Malfoy/Weasley Disagreement

Written by Octavius Lucius Malfoy

And

Guenivere Amelia Weasley

In the Year of Our Lord 1547

"Salazar Slytherin's ghost," Malfoy breathed.

"No kidding," Ginny agreed.

Malfoy turned the page, and the two of them gasped simultaneously.

It was an illustration of two people who almost exactly resembled themselves, dressed as one would expect people in the 1500s to dress. Their hands were clasped together, and they were looking deeply into each other's eyes. When they caught sight of Malfoy and Ginny, they turned and started to wave.

Suddenly, something happened that took their attention off the illustration.

Twin shots of silver light burst from the key around Ginny's neck and the lock on the book.

*

"What is this?" Apollo asked in a calm voice that didn't fool Octavius in the slightest.

"Where did you get that?" he demanded.

"Castor discovered it in your chambers," Apollo said maliciously. "At least I have one son who is loyal to me."

"That's my book," Octavius said. "You've no right to look through my things."

"Well, then, if you're so attached to it," Apollo said, pulling out his wand.

*

The ghosts embraced each other, then looked down fondly at Malfoy and Ginny, who were gaping up at them.

"Well, I'm glad to see that the Malfoys retained our good looks," the male ghost said smugly.

"And they've probably retained their amazing modesty, too, Octavius," the female ghost said, her voice dripping sarcasm.

"Octavius?" Ginny said. She looked down at the book. "Then you must be Guenivere, right?"

"The Weasleys still have their wits about them, I see," Guenivere said warmly.

"But we've some unfinished business," Octavius said. "With that book."

They both touched a hand to it, and concentrated hard for a moment. Jets of light shot from their ethereal forms into the book, and when they were finished they seemed to have lost half their light.

"It's finished," Guenivere said in satisfaction.

"No, it's not," Octavius said. "These two will finish it."

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Malfoy asked.

"I am Octavius Lucius Malfoy," Octavius said gallantly. "Your great-great-great-great and many more greats uncle."

"I am Guenivere Amelia Weasley," Guenivere said. "The girl's many-greats aunt."

"I'm Ginny," Ginny said.

"Draco," Malfoy added.

"Finally, a Malfoy and a Weasley clever enough to see that there was a significance in those heirlooms," Octavius said, his voice almost icy.

"Oh, come now," Guenivere said. "The boy couldn't help it. He is Castor's descendant, after all."

"But Aerin wasn't an utter fool," Octavius said. "Therefore the girl doesn't have an excuse."

"All the Weasley women have known," Guenivere said smugly. "She's just the first to figure out the reason."

"What on earth are you two on about?" Malfoy demanded.

"The people in your dreams weren't you," Guenivere said. "It was us. We gave our memories to you."

"Why?" Ginny said.

"It was all my father's fault," Octavius spat. "Malicious bastard."

As Octavius was too angry to speak rationally, Guenivere explained everything. How they'd met, fallen in love, and been separated by Octavius's father. How they'd written this book explaining everything.

She finished with a plea. "So read it," she said. "Read it and know why it is that you fight."

With that, she took Octavius's hand and they both looked up...and disappeared.

Malfoy and Ginny looked at each other, faces slightly apprehensive but mostly curious. As one, they turned to the book, still open to the illustration of Guenivere and Octavius.

*

His father muttered something, and Octavius found himself whirling outside of his body, and into the gold of the clasp on the book he and Guenivere had worked so hard to write.

*

"What did you do to my daughter?" wailed Moralea Weasley, Guenivere's mother.

Apollo explained, his face saying that he enjoyed every second of her pain. How he'd caught them out, how he charmed their spirits into the key and the lock. How he'd cursed the Weasleys and the Malfoys to hate each other until the end of time.

When he'd departed, Moralea held the key in her hand and wept. Then she straightened out determinedly, her eyes flashing.

It is a known fact that a wizard or witch cannot counteract the spell of another. But, with a large amount of magical talent, they can alter it a bit.

Moralea Weasley altered the spell so that the Weasleys and the Malfoys would not hate each other forever. They would simply hate each other until the key and the lock were reunited by a Weasley woman and a Malfoy man, at which time the spirits of Guenivere and Octavius would be released.

Then she threaded a gold chain through the loop of the key, and presented it to her other daughter, Aerin.

"Unlock your legacy," she said.

And so the tradition began, of passing down the book and the key through the generations. It has continued to this day.

Ginny and Malfoy looked at each other, then down at the book once more.

"Well," Ginny said matter-of-factly, "are we going to finish it?"

"Most definitely," Malfoy said. Then he set the book aside and looked at Ginny with something in his eyes that made her rather flustered. "But not at this precise moment."

*

The Legacy

Epilogue

Written by Draco Octavius Malfoy

And

Ginevra Molly Weasley

In the Year of Our Lord 1996

Now they're wherever you go when you die.

Which we no nothing about, but Ginny here insists on speculating on the subject.

And Malfoy cannot keep his quill away from the paper, so anxious is he to have a small bit of fame that comes from writing a chronicle of events that no one will ever read.

They will. After all, the feud between the Malfoys and Weasleys is practically legendary.

Although it is now most decidedly over.

Ron still hates me.

I don't blame him. But Malfoy and I are on reasonably good terms, in that we've managed not to tear out each other's throats. He has stopped calling us weasels, which is a relief.

But Ginny cannot possibly force herself to use my first name, unless she is reciting the school motto in a wise, infuriating manner.

Don't listen to him. He's just a tad put out at the moment, as myself, my prat older brother, and lovely seeker Harry Potter thoroughly trounced the Slytherin Quidditch team in the last match.

You cheated.

We most certainly did not. Slytherins cheat; Gryffindors use their superior talents and exceptional teamwork in order to defeat the competition.

What about that rogue bludger that almost killed Potter second year?

It was enchanted by a house-elf. Your old house-elf, Dobby, as a matter of fact. So don't start.

Oh. Well, I still hold that 'Weasley is Our King' was a clever and well thought out compositional wonder, and I pride myself on it. I think we should record the lyrics here in case future Malfoys wish to torment future Weasleys.

Let the future Malfoys compose their own hateful song, you sod.

Fine. You are such a spoil sport, Gin.

That is a drink. It is not my name. Stop calling me Gin.

I will if you stop calling me Malfoy.

Oh, fine then. Have it your way...Malfoy.

So I take it that's a no, Gin?

Anyway, the curse is broken.

The day is saved. The Mean Team (Ginny and I) has saved the day in a style clearly our own, and in no way reminiscent of the Dream Team (Potter, Ron and Granger).

Whatever, Malfoy. The point is that Guenivere and Octavius are resting in peace, and the curse that caused Malfoys and Weasleys to hate each other is lifted.

Not that it forces Malfoys and Weasleys to like each other, it's just that they now have a choice in the matter.

I believe Malfoy has chose to continue to hate my brother, Ron.

You bet I have. He's a fool. He won't even get off his stinking bum and get a move on with Granger.

Malfoy, this book has absolutely nothing to do with my brother's love life. We are now changing the subject.

You, Miss Ginevra Molly Weasley, are a spoil sport.

Yes I am. And I'm ending this epilogue, since you insist on being a complete and utter git about the whole thing.

I say it was a tad melodramatic of that Apollo fellow to curse them in the first place.

He is your ancestor, after all.

And I'd have liked to see Guenivere in that swimming costume. Maybe I should make one, and then you can wear it. What do you say?

In your dreams, Malfoy. The epilogue is over. THE END.

No, Gin, it's only the beginning.