The Wish

Wishes are over-rated. This is something I believe in firmly, without a doubt. This might seem like a ridiculous thing to say, but if you had the same experience as I did with wishes, you would think so as well. It's not like they can't come true. No, it's quite the opposite for me, and for millions of other people. The whole thing started when a mirror came into my possession.

***

I am walking through the Great Hall, looking for my friends, when I finally spot them. Tessa Plathe and Rowena Evergreen are waving frantically at me, and I hurry to see what they are so worked up about.

As I approach, I see that it is a package on the table. I sit down in between Rowena and Tessa, and see that a group of other students have gathered around the area where the package is placed, Michael Corner and Dean Thomas included.

"It's for you," Tessa says. "See?" I look at the place she indicates with her finger. On the wrapping paper, in a slanted, half-cursive, meticulous hand, is my name.

To: Ginny Weasley

Handle with care

Gingerly, I unwrap it. It is a mirror, with a heavy, gilded frame and gleaming, clean glass. I shove a blueberry scone into my mouth and carefully lift the mirror off the table. It is surprisingly light and I carry it up to Gryffindor Tower. I bring it to my room, which I share with Tessa, Rowena, and a girl named Dove whom we don't really know and have no intention of getting to know.

I survey the room. On the far wall, there is a blank space perfect for the mirror. Conveniently, I notice a hook sticking out of the mortar in between the heavy gray stones of the wall as I walk over, the mirror still in my arms.

I hang the mirror on the hook. I look into it, examining myself. My hair is a little frizzy, and I am not rushing to do anything about it. While I am staring at the mirror, the image blurs and swirls into a silver twist. In this materializes a small, fairy-like thing, about the size of my hand, wrist to middle finger, and she has beautiful black hair and pale skin. Her lips are painted a dramatic red, and she wears a tiny red dress and lace-up red ballet slippers. In her tiny hand is a wand with a glowing bulb on the tip. She waves at me.

"Hello," I say quietly. Her face unnerves me, like I've seen it before.

"Wotcher," she replies. "I'm Alborotadora. What is your wish?"

"Wish?" I ask. Her name sounds familiar, and I seem to know that it means something in another language.

"Yes, a wish," Alborotadora says. "By the way, you can call me Dora."

"Dora," I repeat quietly. "How many wishes do I have?"

"One important one," Dora replies. "And then as many petty wishes as you please."

"Important? What do you consider important?" I ask suspiciously. If Dora is the judge of importance, I am slightly worried.

"The welfare of friends, family, and the entire Wizarding World," Dora says.

"Oh, then that's easy," I say. "I wish..."

"Hold on!" Dora barks. "Think about it first. Really important wish! Make it count."

"I know," I say. "I wish Tom Riddle had never been born, thus, Voldemort and all of his ways didn't exist and never had."

"Your wish is my command," Dora says in a way that sounds a little ominous in its overwhelming cliché.

With a wave of her wand, I become dizzy and the world fades away to darkness.

***

When I open my eyes, I am still on the floor, and sitting in the mirror frame is Alborotadora, filing her miniscule nails. She notices me when I sit up, and she smiles.

"Well, go out and see how your wish has changed the world, Ginny Weasley," she urges me, waving towards the door to the common room. I walk down the two flights of stairs to the common room, and immediately notice the difference.

Stretched out on the red corduroy couch is Draco Malfoy, surrounded by a modest group of about twelve girls, Hermione Granger included.

"Malfoy?" I whisper. This is odd. I didn't think that the expulsion of Voldemort from existence would put Malfoy into Gryffindor.

"Ginny!" he calls, smiling broadly. Without a thought, I walk towards him. That smile is enchanting and irresistible, even though I don't remember ever seeing it before.

"I'll catch up with you girls later," Draco says to the group of girls, who disperse reluctantly as I approach. As soon as I am near enough, Draco pulls me down onto the couch beside him, holding my waist affectionately.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in a tone that must have suggested that I had not expected to see him, which I completely hadn't. He looks at me, his face emanating hurt.

"What do you mean, darling?" he asks, looking into my eyes. I am confused. Darling? Darling?

"Nothing," I say quickly. "Never mind. I must have hit my head in my sleep."

"Must have," he agrees. "Tessa and Rowena said they'd meet you at breakfast. It's almost half done, Gin, you better get down there."

"Have you-have you eaten already?" the question seems awkward, too kind for Malfoy. I am unaccustomed to this new position in my life.

"Yes," Draco answers. "I woke up early this morning."
"Where's Harry?" I ask arbitrarily. The fact that I haven't seen him yet worries me.

"He's out on the Quidditch pitch, repainting the shed," Draco supplies.

"Why?" I ask. The task is quite undesirable, and I wonder if Harry has been punished with it, or has volunteered.

"Because," Draco says, "he's skipped one too many of McGonagall's detentions."

My heart returns to its normal rhythm. It puts me at ease to know that Harry is still skipping detentions with McGonagall.

"...speaking of which, where's your brother? I've been meaning to tell him that my sister wants to know if he would go out with her," Draco says, and I am instantly taken aback. Sister? What sister? I am tempted to ask, but for the sake of normality, I don't say it aloud.

"Yeah...what's her name again?" I ask timidly.

"Aurora," Draco says. "Rory, we all call her. She and Will got along so much better than she and I do."

"Will?" I say unsurely. Who are all these new people? And why would Voldemort, or the lack thereof, supply the world with more Malfoys?

"My older brother?" Draco says, looking at me strangely. "He just graduated last spring. You must have really hit your head last night." He gently touches my temple, brushing a strand of my hair away from my face. The intimacy of this gesture shocks me, and I almost pull away from his touch, but I don't. Just then, my brother Ron walks into the room, and smirks at me.

"Good morning, Ginny," Ron says, running a hand through his long, bed-head hair. "Draco." Ron nods at Draco.

"Hey there, Ronnie," Draco says amicably. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine, you?" Ron asks. I am still confused.

"Great," Draco replies. He looks at me. "How did you sleep?"

"Okay, I guess," I say unsurely. "Other than the fact that I hit my head and everything."

Ron looks concernedly at me.

"You hit your head, Gin? Are you alright?" he asks. Older brothers. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. Luckily, I have six.

"Ginny, you've got to be more careful," Ron says, just like Mum would if she were here. Maybe I'm not so lucky to have six older brothers. Draco looks between me and Ron, as if weighing the possibilities for a better romantic partner. Finally, his eyes settle on me.

"If you'd like, I'll walk down to breakfast with you," Draco offers. I can't help but to accept. It's not like going with him could hurt? I mean, I wished this upon myself. It's my responsibility to make as much of this wish as I can. And I have Dora to thank for that.

"That would be lovely, Draco, thank you," I say politely. I get off the couch before he does, and Ron smiles at me.

"See you down there, guys," he says, shooting us a knowing glance.

"Yup," Draco says, and waves to Ron.

At this point, there are a million questions that need to be answered. For one thing, how does the lack of Voldemort and all make Malfoy a good person? Good enough to be put in Gryffindor. I know that people can have changes of heart, and I definitely know that Voldemort had infinite powers over his followers, but I can't possibly imagine his control compromising the virtues and morals of the people around him. Also, I wonder why this would make Draco and Ron friends, as they seem to be. At least I have everything else to rely upon.

To my surprise, Harry is sitting at breakfast.

"Hey, mate, you finished painting the Quidditch shed early, I suppose?" Draco says, smiling broadly at Harry, who has small blotches of paint on his face.

"Yeah, it's small once you get up close with paint," Harry replies, smiling impishly.

"What'd you do? Use a charm?" Draco asks, leaning in close to Harry. I sit down in an empty spot between Tessa and Rowena. Rowena moves over to make room for Draco.

"Naturally," Harry whispers in his ne'er-do-well manner. "Shrunk it to the size of a fingernail. Painted it, made it bigger again."

Draco beams at him, and sits between me and Rowena, who looks as if she's about to melt. I can sense her temptation to drool. She has a huge crush on Draco, and has since long before the wish. It never mattered to her that he was a jerk. Now, however, her feelings have been inflated due to his recent, wish-inflicted change of heart.

"Hey, Mum and Dad wrote," Harry informs our area, waving a letter around in his hand.

Of course, I think to myself, his parents are still alive.

"How's Sirius?" I ask.

"He's coming up to visit my parents this weekend with his wife and their kids," Harry says, reading the letter quickly. "Oh, and Draco, your parents say hi. They went out to dinner with mine last night."

"Getting drunk and partying, I am to assume?" Draco asks, a shrewd smirk crawling over his lips.

"Of course," Harry agrees, laughing a little at the thought, "celebrating their graduating children."

"Do they write to your brothers and sister as much as you?" Draco asks through a mouthful of eggs.

"More, actually," Harry answers, a little forlornly. "Tim, Roger, Collin and Viv get twice as many letters as I do."

"Ah, poor Harry Potter, getting half as many letters as young Timothy, Roger, Collin, and itty-bitty-first-year Vivienne," Draco joshes with Harry.

Timothy, Roger, Collin and Vivienne Potter, the children who'd never even been a thought before, are now receiving letters and the youngest was a first year. Even though this comes as a sort of shock to me, I'd always thought that if James and Lily Potter had been alive, they would have lots more children than Harry. Apparently, I am right. They do, in fact, have lots more children. Four more, to be exact. I want to meet these Younger Potters. I want to know them, as I know Harry.

"Viv's so cute," Hermione coos as Ron sits down, giving her a peck on the cheek.

This I could see coming from a mile away, Voldemort or no. Ron and Hermione had been a brewing storm for a very long time, and I can not remember when there had been no metaphorical storm clouds in the Hogwarts sky. So, this is sort of a disappointment as far as wish-related alterations go.

I stuff a muffin into my mouth hurriedly, washing it down with some pumpkin juice, not knowing exactly what the hurry is, other than the fact that I want to see more of my wish's effects. At the same time, I am overwhelmed with the urge to kiss Draco. Strange, I think, I'd always had something for Harry. However, I have no jitters, no butterflies in my stomach, no leap of my heart when my eyes and Harry's meet. It leaves me with an emptiness, but not an unpleasant one. It's the lifting of a great burden, as far as I can tell. He and I had a short fling last year, but it had been strangely unsatisfying.

Before I can satisfy the growing temptation to simply pin Draco down and do unholy things to him, I notice Ron and Hermione whispering lovingly to each other, and am struck with a wave of nausea. As far as I know, Ron has no soul, and whether I've known he has the hots for Hermione or not, he cannot love. It's simply out of the question. My newest urge, one to vomit, intensifies as they begin to messily snog each other silly across the table. Draco turns to me, elbows me gently in the arm, and smirks.

"I think they're getting spit in the oatmeal," Draco whispers, his voice shaking with the strain of suppressing a laugh.

"Tell me about it," I groan. I am suddenly flooded with memories of Ron and Hermione snogging all over my house, all over the common room, and anywhere else they can find. I can't recall things like that ever happening, but I put it down to recent pie-induced dreams, and continue drinking my pumpkin juice. As soon as this flow of memories subside, another stream flows through: those of myself and Draco, and all the times we've, apparently, had together. I feel the heat crawling up my face and neck as images of the two of us passionately snogging in my bedroom pass through my brain. The final image concerning myself and Draco is one of him embracing me in the pouring rain on the Quidditch pitch, murmuring 'I love you' as the team roars after a victory over Slytherin. Jesus, this wish has even provided me with The Perfect Moment. I only wish I'd actually experienced it.

I am drawn out of my thoughts when Draco pinches me lightly on the shoulder. He smiles innocently before gently pulling me up out of my seat and leading me out of the Great Hall. As we stroll through the corridors, I take note of the feel of his hand in mine. Our fingers are interlocking, and I feel this strange sense of certainty pass through me, and I half understand the montage I'd experienced over breakfast. This wish, obviously, has altered my life so drastically that the course of events in my life has changed just as dramatically. The wish was simply filling me in on all the important things I'd missed between Draco and I in the past span of time.

I feel a strange wave of emotion pass over me, something caught between longing and fear. Longing, strangely, to be alone with Draco, and fear of what else might've happened in my life in this wish-altered reality. I'm afraid I might've missed out on something wildly important and fun, or an absolutely exhilarating moment. Just for laughs, I test something. I pull up the memory of Draco and me after that Quidditch match, the moment I'd deemed once-in-a-lifetime perfect. It comes just as easily as a regular memory, and I concentrate on it, trying to feel the same rush I must've felt, the same warmth and comfort of being just where I wanted to be.

Amazingly, I can practically feel the fat rain pounding down on my hot face and soaking through my Quidditch uniform. I feel Draco's wet, strong forearm clasp around my shoulders, I feel the pressure as he squeezes my shoulders, the tickle of his breath as he whispers "I love you" into my ear. I can even hear his voice saying the words, as if I know him well enough to imagine him saying absolutely anything. It's a real memory, I think to myself in awe. I remember it happening so vividly, and I know that even though it never really happened to me in my former reality, it has happened here, in the world pre-created for me, waiting for when I'd make this wonderful wish.

***