Nudge

Nudge

"You can't think I'm happy about this," she growled, leaning over the edge of the building and gazing down at the black-capped head below. He was sitting on a bench, hands clasped loosely in his lap, scuffing a shoe on the pavement as he watched people pass him by.

The blond next to her arched a skeptical brow. "I would have thought you'd be dancing with glee. You get to touch your precious Potter again," he spat.

"Touching," she said primly, straightening up to glare at him, "is strictly forbidden."

He smirked. "And we both know how well you follow rules."

Her eyes narrowed even more. "Keep going, Malfoy," she dared him.

"Didn't Anael say this was your last chance, Weasley?" He clucked his tongue.

"Look," she bit out through clenched teeth, "that Corner disaster was not my fault. And the auto was," she waved a hand, "right there and it was a split-second reaction and--" She cut off abruptly, aware that she didn't have to explain herself to Malfoy, of all creatures, and that at least her heart had been in the right place. So what if it'd been the bloke's time? She just couldn't help throwing herself into the fray when she sensed danger afoot. Gryffindoric tendencies apparently didn't fade very much with the onslaught of death.

Neither, though, did Malfoy's penchant for taunting and biting comments. How he ever made it to heaven was beyond Ginny, but she certainly wasn't going to approach Michael about it. As Malfoy so loved to point out, she was in enough trouble with the higher-ups as it was.

"Hate to have you demoted from the Love Squad," he sneered, clearly not happy that he was working under the angel of romance; although, according to the girls at the salon, he'd been at this job longer than anyone else. Anael tended to have a high turn-over, as it took a special sort of ghost to make two people fall in love.

Malfoy seemed to have the knack.

"What are you giggling about, Weasley? Think this is hilarious, do you?"

"That you're in charge of Harry's happily-ever-after? Yes," she laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder, "yes, I do." With one last playful smile in his direction, she blinked and disappeared, materializing down on the sidewalk across from Harry. Seconds later she felt Malfoy appear beside her.

"Well," he grumbled. "Is that her then?" He nodded his head toward the curvy blonde woman waiting at the bus stop, a folded newspaper tucked under one arm and a tow-headed girl clutching her hand.

"One Josephine Maddock. Twenty-eight. Widowed. The little girl is Polly," Ginny supplied. "They walk down from Georgette's around four every Tuesday and Thursday, wait for the four-twenty, and Harry makes cow-eyes at them for at least half that amount of time. She never even glances at him."

Malfoy snorted. "Can't see why not," he drawled.

"Hermione should be... Ah, there she is." She pointed off to the right, noting the bushy-haired brunette pushing her way past the crowds, walking at a brisk pace. "She's going to lecture him on wasting his life again, I just know it." She turned to look at Malfoy. "There's a sixty-forty chance of it every time she meets him for dinner." Ginny might not have been exactly happy about the job, but that didn't mean she had to shirk on her research. She knew Harry, Hermione and Ron's days down to the minute, and was well on her way to knowing Josephine's as well.

"True love will blossom in a fortnight," Malfoy mumbled.

"What?"

He blinked and shook his head. "Sorry. Hazard of the job."

She stared at him incredulously. "You really do know what you're doing, don't you, Malfoy? A regular little cupid."

"Anyway," he drew out, rolling his eyes, "we've got two weeks. Won't take much. A push here, a nudge there. Really, Weasley, this isn't the serious business you're used to. You needn't take such a thorough approach."

"I heard it took you over a month to get Abbott and Nott together," Ginny pointed out, slightly disgruntled.

"Because," he said indignantly, "it was meant to take over a month. You can't force these things; you can only set them on the right path."

She shook her head slowly. "You've made the strangest ghost, Malfoy. Makes me a little curious about how you'd have turned out, had you lived past the ripe old age of nineteen."

Malfoy scowled at her, then gave her an over-exaggerated, haughty blink and ended up on the other side of the street, lounging negligently on the bench beside Harry. Ginny sighed and followed.

"You've been here for hours, haven't you Harry?" Hermione asked when she reached them, placing her hands on her hips.

Pulling his gaze away from Josephine, he gave Hermione a wry grin. "Sorry."

She heaved a heavy sigh and dropped down next to him, causing Malfoy to yelp and scramble out of the way. He couldn't feel her - or vice versa, as they weren't even the kind of semi-corporeal ghosts that hung about, sending off chills - but being sat on was never a pleasant experience.

"Harry," Hermione started, "you can't just do nothing. You can't just... sit here. Miserable."

"I'm not," he protested. And the truth of it was he wasn't. Ginny knew that for a fact.

"But..." She trailed off ineffectually, slumping down into the bench. Hermione wasn't the sort of Witch who could appreciate idleness. She would be miserable, sitting on benches day in and day out, watching people, feeding birds, smiling blankly into the sun.

To Harry, Ginny knew, it was heaven. On earth, she added, rolling her eyes upwards. On earth. The guys upstairs were a bit touchy about that saying.

"Hermione," Harry said firmly, "for once in my life, I've got nothing at all that I have to do. I'm enjoying myself. Truly," he insisted when she frowned dubiously at him.

"Ron's worried about you."

"No he's not. Ron's off raising babies with Pansy, and is most definitely not worrying about me. You, on the other hand, need a good lay."

Malfoy snickered and Ginny sent him a glare, but couldn't manage much heat. It probably wouldn't hurt the woman to consider Harry's advice. Not - Ginny narrowed her eyes at the sky - that she'd be willing to take on that task.

"Harry," Hermione drew out, leaning against his arm in defeat.

"What?" He chuckled. "You can't deny it, can you? How about that French bloke at your office? Or Zabini, down in the Auror division? He asked you out twice last month. Third times a charm."

"Stop trying to change the subject," she groused.

"I wasn't aware we were on a certain one to begin with. I was under the impression that you were taking me to dinner."

"No, you prat," she slapped his arm and got to her feet, "you're taking me to dinner. And you can tell me all about that woman you were staring dreamily at when I arrived."

"Who?" he asked, widening his eyes.

"Oh, that's good, Harry," Ginny breathed, shaking her head.

"Yes, very convincing," Malfoy agreed. "Except not."

"The blonde, Harry." Hermione clearly wasn't buying his innocent act either. "Plump, with a little lamb in hand."

"I've no idea who you're talking about," he said, standing up and whistling slightly. Which was an extreme tactical error. The whistling always gives it away.

"Amateur move," Malfoy murmured.

Hermione narrowed her eyes skeptically. "I'm not the least bit fooled, Harry, but I'll save it 'til we're sitting down."

Malfoy clucked his tongue. "Oh, bad decision, Granger. He'll weasel his way out of that one if you don't press it now."

Ginny sighed. "Come on, Malfoy. We don't have to follow these two around."

"Might be informative," Malfoy protested mildly. "And this Granger-Zabini business... that sounds intriguing."

"Yes. Right. Of course. Because you always want to help out Hermione of your own free will," Ginny cracked.

He shrugged, forced casualness conversely stiffening the line of his shoulders. "I just don't want to get roped into one of Anael's massively boring lectures about soulmates and passion if we get back too early. Gives it to the newly living-impaired right about now every day, and I've suffered through it more times than I can count." His tone was so droll and sneering he might as well have said 'soulmates, bah humbug.'

"You've seen the Book, haven't you?" she asked curiously.

"What book?" he countered smoothly, one brow arched.

She stared at him silently for a few moments. "Oh, you're good. I almost believed you. You have seen the Book. Merlin, I can't believe he let you... who's mine?" she asked excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Everyone wanted to get a glimpse at Anael's Book of Soulmates.

"You're dead, Weasley. You don't have one," he said flatly.

"Nonsense. I was a hatchling at one point, Malfoy," she said, using the moniker coined by St. Peter for all the new arrivals. "I've been to the lecture before as well." She straightened up and lifted her chin, deepening her voice in a horrid imitation of Anael, lisp and all. "'Love transcends time and space, age and reason, life and death.' Life and death. So, who?"

Malfoy sneered at her. "You're like an annoying puppy, Weasley. I can't believe Anael saddled me with you. With luck, it won't be long before you're thrown out of this job too, and have to join the idiots down in Marketing."

Ginny clenched her jaw. Malfoy just wasn't any fun to work with. At least she'd had Lavender to hang about with at her last position, although everyone else had been unimaginative stiffs. Being a part of the Death Squad wasn't nearly as glamorous as the title suggested.

"Fine," she sniffed. "I'll see you Thursday, then. Here." There was no dictate that said she had to be with her partner any other times than were absolutely necessary. They encouraged it, of course, but there was no use trying to get any closer to Malfoy. He was as much a bastard to her dead as he'd been alive. Although the bright red robes he was forced to wear took much of the sting out of his remarks.

"Thursday." He gave her a strange, thoughtful look, one that made Ginny instantly wary, but he just blinked and disappeared.

Bloody Malfoy.

***

"First step is eye contact," Malfoy said absently, leaning against the back of the bench and scanning the paper that Harry was obviously only pretending to read.

"Eye contact. Right," Ginny nodded. Clearly, since Harry had no problem staring at the woman, they had to work on garnering Josephine's attention.

Neither Ginny nor Malfoy were allowed to touch the living, but they were fairly good at manipulating air and space. Appearing at the woman's side, Ginny decided that the easiest object to dislodge would be the newspaper folded up under her arm, so she sucked in a large gulp of air, cupped her hand around her mouth, and blew out a strong gust of wind that succeeded in wrenching the paper from her loose clasp.

Unfortunately, the woman just let out a small cry of dismay and watched forlornly as it fluttered down the street. Bugger.

"The child, Weasley," Malfoy shouted over at her. "Anything to do with her will work best."

Ginny frowned down at little Polly, wishing the girl was wearing a hat or some other easily blown article of clothing, but all she had was a completely naked plastic woman clutched tightly in her fingers and a sparkly purple handbag. So. Nothing to work with there.

Glancing around, she spotted an elderly couple, a young man on a skateboard, and... there. Perfect.

Smiling, Ginny made her way over to the wiggling mass of puppy at the foot of a shaggy teenager, the ginger-haired dog's tail wagging furiously as she approached. Animals were a whole different class unto themselves, simple beings who could see as well as feel her, and she knelt down on the pavement, laughing as the little Irish Setter jumped and slobbered all over her face.

"Oh, nice puppy. What a good pup," Ginny praised, rubbing the dog's head affectionately. "Want to help me out? Come on, then. Let's unhook this leash here and..." Ginny curled her fingers around the puppy's collar, careful not to let the little thing break free and charge into the street, and guided him down the walk towards Josephine's daughter.

She brushed by the woman and girl, giving the wide-eyed child a good look at the adorable puppy before urging him further down the walk and over to Harry.

"Hello," Harry said, smiling at the animal. "Lost, eh?" He leaned down and scratched behind the setter's ear.

"Is he yours?"

Ginny beamed over at Polly. Hook, line and sinker.

Harry cleared his throat. "Ah, no. No, the little fellow just wandered over. Don't suppose he's yours, then?"

Polly shook her head, eyes still glued to the dog. She dropped down onto her knees, reaching her arms out to hug him, and giggled delightedly when he wormed his way further into her grip, licking her face with an overabundance of enthusiasm.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Polly, Polly, what are you doing?" Josephine gave Harry a wan smile. "I hope she didn't disturb you, I'm so sorry."

Harry waved a hand. "No problem at all. Not even my dog, Miss...?"

"Maddock. Josephine Maddock," she said, wrapping her arms around her daughter's waist and hauling her to her feet. "Polly, really. You know better than to go running off like that."

"No harm done." Harry grinned. "I'm--"

"Harry Potter," Josephine finished for him, finally looking into his face, a lopsided grin pulling at her lips.

"Oh." Harry's cheerful countenance wavered slightly.

She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. "My husband was a Wizard, Mr. Potter. You're... quite famous."

"Um..." Harry stared at his hands, fidgeting a bit on the bench. "Yes, well."

"Harry!" Ginny practically screamed. "Look at her, you stupid git!"

And suddenly he lifted his head and their eyes caught, and Ginny found herself holding her breath - or, really, what passed as a reasonable facsimile of breath in her body; mainly, breathing was a habit she couldn't quite kick - and time seemed to wind down to a sluggish crawl, Josephine's lips parted slightly in mute surprise, Harry's adam's apple slid along his throat in a slow, dry swallow.

"We have contact," Ginny murmured.

"Hey, that's my pup!"

The spell broken, Harry glanced over at the somewhat rankled teenager, a red nylon leash hanging from his fingers. "Sorry. He just wandered over," Harry offered.

And then the four-twenty bus pulled up and Josephine grabbed Polly's hand and started off, throwing a hasty "Nice to meet you," over her shoulder, and Harry sank down further into the bench with a sigh.

"Not bad, Weasley," Malfoy drawled. "The puppy was a good call."

"Wish she hadn't recognized him, though," Ginny said, settling down next to Harry. "Threw him a bit, I think."

"Poor Potter, doomed to forever be the Boy-Who-Killed-Voldie," Malfoy snarled. "I'm surprised you're so gung ho about this union, Weasley. I'd rather think you'd be waiting with baited breath for the Death Squad to arrive and reunite you with your love."

Ginny tilted her head back to glare at him in disbelief. "Did you just hear yourself, Malfoy? Are you insane?"

The blond scowled, then blinked and ended up looming over her, face inches from her own. "You two were practically engaged up until the last battle."

"Yes, until I died. Eight years ago."

"What about 'life and death,' Weasley?" he mocked.

Ginny frowned. "Don't suppose we were soulmates, then." She shrugged. "It's no skin off my nose, Malfoy. I'm just a bit weirded-out over how you're reacting."

"I'm..." Malfoy's mouth opened and closed like a fish, then his jaw stiffened and he let out an annoyed huff of breath. "Whatever."

"Excellent retort, Malfoy," she snorted. "I see death hasn't dulled your rapier wit."

"I'll need you to sign off on the weekly report," Malfoy said tightly, ignoring her jab.

"Leave it with Reception," Ginny said, standing up and walking towards the edge of the curb, "and I'll get to it by Saturday."

With a nod and a soundless growl, Malfoy blinked and disappeared. Ginny cursed under her breath. He always got the last blink.

***

Tuesday found Harry and Josephine in their exact same positions, and Ginny leant against the bus stop sign, arms crossed over her chest. "What now, oh Love Expert?"

Malfoy eyed the blonde woman up and down, then gazed at her face intently for a few minutes before breaking out into a wide smirk. "She's watching him."

"Really?" Ginny asked, surprised. She pursed her lips, stared at the woman's eyes, and finally caught the flickering, fleeting glances she was surreptitiously shooting Harry. "Huh. So what's next, then?"

"Another nudge." Malfoy shrugged. "Told you it wouldn't take more than two weeks."

"What sort of nudge," Ginny persisted, straightening up and eyeing Harry, who seemed to be arguing with himself. And losing. "Stop it, Harry," she hissed. "You look like a damn crazy man."

Malfoy's snigger sounded suspiciously light-hearted.

"Was that...? Did you just laugh, Malfoy? Good-naturedly? Without a sarcastic comment about Harry?"

"I'm an Angel-in-Training working on the fucking Love Squad, Weasley," Malfoy growled. "I'm good and pure."

"Pure?" Ginny cackled, bending over and wrapping her arms around her stomach, shoulders shaking with mirth. "Pure?"

Malfoy glared at her. "They need another nudge," he bit out.

"Fine, fine." Ginny stifled another fit of giggles and sucked her lower lip into her mouth. Malfoy's icy gaze melted a fraction, and she watched him curiously, taking an awkward step backwards. "Um..." He was looking at her mouth a little too intently for her peace of mind. "Nudge, Malfoy?"

"Another nudge," he said absently, smoothly gliding towards her. "Maybe two."

"Yes. Well. All right." Ginny's throat felt unaccountably dry, eyes locked with Malfoy's as he stopped a mere foot from her. "Nudge," she said weakly.

And then he spun on his heel and stalked over to Harry, kicking his foot hard into the man's shin. Harry yelped and stumbled to his feet.

"Malfoy!" Ginny shouted, shocked. "You're not allowed to touch!"

He smirked over his shoulder at her. "Anael likes my work, Weasley. I get to do whatever I bloody well please, so long as he sees results."

Josephine, having heard Harry's cry of distress, hurried over and wrapped an arm around his waist as he hobbled back and forth in front of the bench, lips pulled back in a pained grimace. "Are you all right, Mr. Potter?"

"Harry," he breathed, shaking out his leg. "Please, call me Harry."

"Harry," Josephine repeated automatically, bending down to look at his leg closer. "What happened?"

Harry looked faintly embarrassed as he straightened up. "Er... probably just a cramp. Nothing overly exciting."

Ginny snorted. "I can't believe you, Malfoy."

"What? It worked, didn't it?" he demanded smugly. "And here comes the four-twenty. Bet you she doesn't even notice."

She didn't. But Ginny was too happy about Harry and Josephine's progress to be perturbed by Malfoy's self-satisfied grin. This job was turning out to be an unexpected success. Maybe she wasn't a complete failure after all.

"Come on, Harry," Ginny urged softly. "Offer to escort her home."

"You've missed your ride," Harry stated stupidly, blinking after the departing bus. "Can I give you a lift somewhere?"

"Oh, no." Josephine shook her head. "No, we'll just wait for the next--"

"Let me, please. It was my fault you missed it," Harry insisted smoothly.

"And our job here is done."

Ginny cocked her head at Malfoy. "Really? That's it?"

He pointed at the two of them. "She'll say yes, Polly will love him, he'll ask her to dinner next Wednesday, they'll spend the weekend together, and two months from now they'll have a huge wedding in the country."

"You can see all of that?" Ginny asked skeptically. She didn't think his ghostly skills extended to divination.

"I'm inferring," he replied haughtily. "There's nothing more for us to do about them now, though. Anael's already given me our next case."

Ginny groaned. Somehow, her mind had been under the nice impression that if she got through this mission, they'd give her somebody else to work with. Somebody with a sweeter disposition. Or let her work by herself, even, since she clearly knew what she was doing. Case in point: Josephine and Harry. Although... their success was arguably due to Malfoy. The wanker. "Who is it?"

"The esteemed Minister of Magic." Malfoy's voice was fairly dripping with sarcasm.

"Crap." The last thing she needed was a look into her brother's love life. "Percy. This is going to be hell."

Malfoy arched a brow. "Fortunately, I know his weakness, and I know how to exploit it."

"Of course," Ginny drawled. She knew his weakness as well. Chocolate and watermelon sundaes at Fortescue's.

"Weakness, Weasley," Malfoy spat derisively. "Not favorite treat."

Ginny jumped slightly, surprised. "How could you--"

Malfoy waggled his eyebrows - which was slightly frightening and not really at all what Ginny would have expected from him - and said, "You Weasleys are all very predictable. Weaknesses almost always equal food of some sort. It was merely an educated guess."

Ginny wasn't exactly sure she believed that reasoning, but the alternative, that Malfoy could somehow read her mind, was too freaky to dwell on. "So Percy's real weakness would be...?"

"He can't hold his liquor, and is an extremely loose drunk."

She stared into the middle distance for a moment, her mind's eye picturing a sloppily wet Percy slurring all over some pretty maid or man. "I'm putting in for a transfer," she said finally.

"To where? Reception won't even take you," he pointed out smugly, "and they get all the wet behind the ear hatchlings."

Not for the first time, Ginny wished she'd had a profession on earth that had translated to the world beyond. Like Elspeth and Steven, and their Dead Head beauty salon. An Auror had little to no use in the hereafter, unfortunately, but heaven was surprisingly hospitable to cosmetologists.

"I should be getting something out of this," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

Malfoy gazed at her blandly.

"I should," she insisted petulantly. "Like... a glance at the Book." She smiled brightly. It was a moment of inspired genius, if she did say so herself.

"You can't look at the Book, Weasley," Malfoy said with less than patience. "The only reason I've seen the Book is because I'm well on my way to becoming Anael's right hand man." He flicked the end of her nose. "Remember, I get special privileges."

She scowled at him. "You... suck."

He snickered. "Friday, Weasley. We'll go over the Percy docket and plan a stratagem."

Ginny still had her tongue out when he blinked away.

***

"Wait, wait," Elspeth said, stopping mid-cut, holding up a chunk of Doris' hair as she stared wide-eyed at Ginny through the mirror. "You think this is my fault?"

"You're the one who has an in with Anael," Ginny groused, plopping into the seat next to her and picking up a brush. Lavender was sprawled in a reclining salon chair on the other side, Steven at her feet.

"You did say that, Ellie," Steven agreed, buffing Lavender's big toe. "Can't deny it."

"I said Anael would take her," Elspeth protested, kicking him lightly in the leg. "Didn't say she had to be paired up with Draco. That business stinks a bit if you ask me."

"It's odd," Lavender put in. "He's got to know you hate each other."

"Everyone knows we hate each other," Ginny said. "You're right. I think I'm being set up for a fall. I think they want me gone, don't think I'm angel material. I'll end up with a desk job in the basement, growling over my stapler."

Doris rolled her eyes. "Please. Don't be an idiot."

"I am an idiot," Ginny cried, rubbing a hand over her eyes in dismay. "I couldn't even cut it with the Creevey brothers over in the Sherpa Division. Guiding people through the light, girls. I couldn't guide people through the light."

Steven gave her a hard look. "Ginevra, love, Anael is not setting you up for a fall. He doesn't have that sort of deceit in him."

"No, the kind of deceit he has is... Oh." Elspeth froze, her cheekbones coloring a pretty rose. "Oh my. Gin, did you happen to get a glimpse of the Book yet?"

Ginny shook her head. "Why?"

"Yes, why--Oh!" Steven straightened up over Lavender. "You can't think...?"

"Well, why else?" Elspeth demanded. "Ginny's a floating disaster as a ghost. Why else would Anael agree to take her on?"

"Hey!" Ginny sputtered, getting to her feet.

"You've got to get a look at the Book, Gin," Elspeth said, wagging her scissors at her.

The redhead scrunched up her nose and scowled at the floor. "Malfoy won't let me," she grumbled. "Won't even tell me."

"Won't tell you, eh?" Steven's blue eyes held a disturbing twinkle.

Ginny took in his mischievous air and Elspeth's sly grin with growing apprehension. "I don't want to know," she said hastily, backing away. "I don't want to know a single thing about what you're thinking, all right? Not one word."

Lavender's head popped up. "About what?"

"Absolutely nothing," Ginny stated emphatically. And fled.

***

Occasionally, Ginny spent time with Ron. Well, if 'spent time' actually meant creepily lounging around in the background, petting Pansy's cat, Archibald, while he read bedtime stories to her two nephews.

It was better than brooding over whatever batshit crazy thoughts Ellie and Steven had driven into her mind, though. Some friends they were.

Ginny sighed and draped herself across the foot of Nathan's bed, rubbing her face affectionately into Archie's fur. The twins were asleep soon after, as it never took much of Ron's drone before they dropped off, and he softly closed the book of fairy tales.

"I don't know, Ron," Ginny said with a sigh. She often talked to her brother, even though he couldn't hear her. Or even remotely feel her presence. "I just," she waved her hand, "can't find my niche, you know?"

Ron leaned over and kissed Nathan's head, then moved to Malcolm and smoothed his red-brown curls over his forehead. "Night, guys," he said softly, sliding the book onto their bedside table.

"You'd think after eight years, I'd... be something already." Ginny rolled over onto her stomach, pillowing her head with her hands and watching the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of the Nathan's chest, listening to the hitching snores of Malcolm.

She'd never actually met them. Never held them. And, honestly, she wasn't all that sad about it. There really wasn't much she had a right to wallow about, Malfoy notwithstanding, since she had no complaints about being a ghost - beyond her complete inability to hold down a job, that is, and her dubious future as an angel.

Still, it would have been nice. Hearing choruses of 'Aunt Ginny.' Getting chocolate smudged kisses and tight hugs about her knees. But it was only a slight, wistful feeling, and mainly the sight of the boys, the sight of Ron with the boys, left her calm. More peaceful, if possible, then when up in the heavenly realm.

Ron stood silhouetted in the doorway for a moment, a lean, dark shape, hands pressed against the frame and eyes slightly gleaming from the small night candle he left lit. She could see the shadow of his younger self in his stance, and she smiled, biting the corner of her lip as she lifted her head, cupping her chin in a hand.

So. She was a bit of a mess at being a ghost. So what? Certainly wasn't the end of the world. And Malfoy. He drove her absolutely bonkers, but there had to be a reasonable explanation for it, right?

There was really only one thing left to do, and she had to do it quick, or she'd never be able to face the girls and Steven at the salon on Saturday.

"You've always been good for me, Ron," she whispered, then watched as he pulled the door slowly shut before blinking away.

***

"Tell me again why you've dragged me into this?" Lavender whispered, crouched down behind Ginny as they slipped inside Anael's house.

Ginny glanced over her shoulder. "'Cause Ellie and Steven both have that disconcerting gleam in their eyes, Doris thinks I'm insane, and you're the only one other than Colin and Dennis who still agrees with me that Malfoy is a total wanker."

"And Colin and Dennis have enough subterfuge between them to fill a thimble," Lavender finished for her.

Ginny nodded. "Exactly. Plus," she smiled over at her friend, "we can look you up, too."

Lavender visibly brightened at that. "It's that bloke from Recycling, Bob something-or-other with the amazing backswing. I just know it."

Supposedly, the Book was tucked in one of Anael's many libraries, and Ginny and Lavender skulked down the hallway, ducking behind busts and statues and pressing themselves into shadows when they heard voices. It took them approximately an hour to find the right room, but they weren't all that mindful of the time. There really wasn't much else to do up in heaven, even with fulltime jobs.

The Book, when they found it, was on a round, single-legged table in the middle of a book-lined chamber. The words 'Book of Soulmates' were etched elaborately into the wooden skirt, with live ivy and climbing orchids winding around the base, and Ginny could have sworn she heard the opening strains of Love is a Song from the animated feature Bambi as she reached for the worn leather cover.

She glanced wide-eyed at Lavender, but the brunette just shrugged and whispered, "Me first."

Ginny shrugged in return and licked her fingers before thumbing through to the Bs. "Baddock, Bailey... Biggs... Bowden, Bowie... ah, here. Brown, Lavender. Um..." She grimaced. "Are you sure you--"

"Who is it?" Lavender hissed excitedly. "Is it Cedric? It's Cedric, isn't it? Ooo, or that sexy American Muggle, Lawrence, down in the pharmacy on Tenth and Market?"

"It's, ah," she cleared her throat uncomfortably, "Snape."

"Snape," Lavender repeated dumbly, voice faintly breathless. "The Snape. As in, my voice could make you melt but my eyes dare you to try it Snape. That Snape. Severus Snape."

"Er... yes?" Ginny ventured tentatively. She wasn't quite sure what she'd expected, but it certainly wasn't the almost manically happy glow in Lavender's eyes.

"I was always the teensiest bit in love with him at Hogwarts," she confessed, cheeks pink.

"Well, now you can go moon over him and wait for the bastard to kick it," Ginny said, harsher than she'd meant too. But Lavender's glow didn't fade, and Ginny had to wonder if the girl had even heard her properly. She rolled her eyes, then flipped the pages way back to the end of the Book.

Contrary to popular belief, Ginny was not particularly stupid or slow.

She knew, on some level, what she'd find when she skimmed her finger down the long list of Ws. Still, she wasn't exactly prepared for the fist-to-the-gut, breathless, enormously unfortunate sick feeling that settled in the pit of her stomach - mainly unfortunate because Ginny knew Anael'd just had his floors done, and she wasn't currently up to holding back vomit, if it happened to feel like crawling up her throat.

Draco Malfoy. Plain as day and so bright and sparkly on the page it made her eyes hurt. Bright and sparkly because - surprise! - they'd found each other and were well on their way to happily ever after.

And Malfoy, the prick, knew all about it already.

Oh yes, this had been a set-up from the very beginning. But not a set-up, apparently, to cause her downfall. Well, at least, not a work-related downfall. Her personal life was another matter entirely.

Malfoy had some serious explaining to do.

***

"So," Malfoy said, settling down at the table and signaling for Marco to bring him his usual, "guess who the lucky mate is?"

Ginny arched a brow and leant back in her seat, both hands curled loosely around her pint of lager. "Who?"

"Seamus Finnigan."

"Really?" Ginny asked mildly, then took a small sip of beer. "Hmmm." She wasn't really listening to him, of course. Too busy plotting his demise. Or rather... Fuck. How was she supposed to kill someone who was already dead?

"Did you hear me, Weasley?" Malfoy scowled at her, the candlelight flickering between them making his eyebrows fan up like wings, shadows extending across his forehead. "We have to set up your older brother with Seamus Finnigan."

"Interesting," she murmured, forefinger tracing the wet frost on her glass. Maybe the Death Squad could set up some sort of private purgatory for him. Lavender could talk circles around her boss, and she was so giddy in love with Snape... she just might agree to help. Again.

And why the hell was Marco's restaurant suddenly all low-light and hushed? Ginny straightened up in her chair, glancing around the regular after work haunt for every sort of ghost and angel with a disbelieving eye. Was this some sort of by-product of soulmate near-bonding in heaven? Everywhere they went together would now be riddled with violin-playing saps and dimmer switches?

"Weasley, what the hell is wrong with you?" Malfoy demanded, snapping his fingers in front of her face.

Ginny's face screwed up indignantly. "Is that...? Are they playing Love is a Battlefield?" she bit out, incredulous and somewhat sickened.

"I... what?" A fleeting, panicked look crossed Malfoy's eyes and Ginny narrowed her own at him.

"I'm only going to ask this once, Malfoy," Ginny stated stiffly, voice a low, dangerous pitch. "Do you have something you want to tell me?"

"Er..." He cocked his head to the side, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. "Other than Percy and Finnigan? No."

"All right." Ginny's inflection didn't change. "I'm going to give you one more chance, then. Do you have something you want to tell me?"

"Um..." He fidgeted.

Really, Ginny had never seen the evil blond so rankled before. If she were in a generous mood, she'd just spit out that she knew already and put the man out of his misery. But with Malfoy, she was never in a generous mood. She widened her eyes and put her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her fists. "Yes?"

The first chords of The Promise wafted over them and Ginny's brows furrowed, momentarily distracted. Someone was a little too into eighties rock.

Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes at her. "You've seen the Book, haven't you?"

"What book?" she asked innocently.

"Quit it," he sneered. "You're entirely too Weasley to be able to pull that off."

"Well, this Weasley just happens to be your better half, eh?"

Malfoy's face was pinched with displeasure, as if he'd just bit into a lemon. Or an under-ripe tomato. "Over my dead body."

"Yes. Yes it is," Ginny snickered. "Really quite fitting, isn't it?"

He sunk down further into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling. "I suppose," he grudgingly agreed.

She eyed him critically. "So how long, do you think?"

"How long for what?"

"Before 'true love will blossom,'" she quoted airily, "arsehole."

"Twenty years," he bit out, disgruntled. "Give or take a decade."

Funnily enough, Malfoy's obvious upset cheered Ginny considerably. "Aww, come on now, Draco. Don't be so pessimistic. I'm sure we just need a nudge or two."

Malfoy gave her a dark look.

"Maybe a kick in the shins?" she went on playfully, leaning forward on her elbows again and grinning.

His mouth twitched noticeably before firming into a seemingly grim line.

Ginny waggled her brows. "We could spend the weekend together. Get a puppy. How do you feel about a June wedding?"

His eyes narrowed, but his lips curved up minutely, making him look a bit like a feline gazing at a trapped mouse. Ginny wasn't at all mouse-like, though, so she mirrored his expression, the gleam in her eyes slightly challenging.

And then the music changed, and Ginny sat back in a huff. "For the love of... The Safety Dance? Am I the only one who thinks Marco's idea of romantic ambiance is completely retarded?"

Malfoy laughed. A short, staccato chuckle coupled with a brief shake of his head. "Let's get out of here, then," he said, rising out of his seat and holding out a hand for her.

She eyed it warily, not entirely sure he wouldn't pull it back at the last moment and snigger childishly at her. It was exactly the sort of thing he'd do.

"Nudge," he said, voice low and smooth, hand still extended, gray eyes daring and mocking and just a little soft around the edges as he looked down at her.

Ginny sighed. It wasn't as if she really had a choice about the matter. Their names were already linked, bright and sparkly and ever after. Besides, if she didn't at least try, Anael would have her hide, and she couldn't afford to lose another job, could she?

"All right." She slid her hand into his and tightened her grip around his palm. He shifted his hold, threading his fingers through hers, and it felt like a little more than just a nudge. But she wasn't going to complain.

Fin.