Draco Malfoy stood, relaxed and unconcerned, leaning against the wall in the entryway. His arms were crossed, an easy smile on his face as he entertained his fellow Slytherins with tales of glory and betrayal as they listened, entranced.

There was one present who was not so hopelessly absorbed in his words. Ginny Weasley was perched on a stair step, peacefully reading Pride and Prejudice when Draco interrupted her happiness.

Her hair was particularly rebellious that day, falling along her face and down her back in bright waves. The summer weather enabled her to wear her favorite pleated skirt, the one that had made Ron scowl reprovingly and Harry raise his eyebrows appreciatively.

But they were gone, and it was spring, and Ginny had moved on. After hours of tears and weeks of being torn between feelings of frustration, regret and betrayal, she’d decided that it wasn’t worth her tears. She was resigned to the fact that they were banished from her world, and her life was just beginning to come back together. Yet now Malfoy was disturbing her peace. With a resigned sigh, Ginny snapped her book shut and swept past Malfoy and his admirers, her hair bouncing on her back with each stride.

Draco was mid-sentence when he caught a flash of auburn in his peripheral vision. His voice faltered, his reserve shaken. His arms uncrossed and he grabbed the corner of the wall against which he was standing to follow the red-haired figure as it swooshed down the hall. That hair was defiant, yet staggeringly innocent, complicated, yet peacefully simple. The contradictions were beautiful, perfect—

“Draco?” pleaded a voice from his fan club.

“I’ll—I’ll be back,” he stammered, and set off after the hair.

The Slytherins exchanged worried glances. Draco didn’t stammer. But Draco was past them. He was following a light he’d seen, showing him which way to turn. When he found her, she was stretched on the grass near the lake, holding a book above her head. As he approached, he caught sight of the title.

He lowered himself to the grass next to her with nervousness not characteristic of him, but that only he himself would notice. Who was this girl and why was she so enchanting? Draco leaned back on his elbows. He was at least three feet from her relaxed form and was content to just watch. He soon decided he didn’t care who she was. She had excellent taste in literature and blindingly gorgeous hair.

Suddenly, she stretched. Her freckled shoulders taught, her book no longer blocking Draco from view, Ginny was exposed. She sat up abruptly, and it was impossible to tell which of the two was more surprised to see the other. Ginny gaped like a fish and Draco appeared no less shocked.

“Weas——”

“Mal——”

Both blurted surnames and stopped midway through.

“What are you——”

“I’ll just be——”

Ginny had wanted to know how and why Draco had been next her on the grass and Draco had tried to make an excuse, but neither was able to finish. Ginny blushed. Draco breathed deeply.

“Pride and Prejudice,” he began awkwardly.

Ginny nodded, looking doubtful.

“A classic,” he continued.

Ginny shrugged, “A good story.”

“That it is,” Draco agreed. Ginny was astounded.

“You’ve read Pride and Prejudice?” she questioned, shocked.

Draco, nonplussed, nodded.

“And Wickham is a right git,” he added.

Ginny, barely able to contain her surprise, couldn’t help but agree.

“And Mr Darcy is so perfect,” she gushed.

Then, more pensively, she continued, “Guys just aren’t like that any more.”

Draco smiled a little.

“When I saw your hair, it told me that you were worth notice. Your hair… was Elizabeth Bennet’s eyes.” Ginny’s own eyes widened in shock. She’d never expected anyone to say something like that to her, not to mention someone like him—

Draco moved closer to Ginny and reached out slowly to carefully trace a line down her cheek, ending just below her ear. Then he slid his fingers over and wove them into her hair, admiring as the light shone through it, warming his hand.

Ginny closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into his hand and resting her cheek in his palm, letting her worries be shared for a moment. Then, as though surprised by her own reaction, she opened her eyes and pulled away from his touch, shaking her head.

“Ginny——” he began.

“No,” she interrupted. Her tone made Draco raise his head. There couldn’t possibly be that much regret and hurt in one word, but there was. The desperation was there. Draco’s eyes traveled away to the forest.

“What, Ginny? Just tell me what it is.”

“It’s Harry!” Ginny said, frustrated. “It’s how you treat him! Do you have any idea what all that with Dumbledore did to him? What has he ever done to you? And it’s about your Death Eater involvement. Why does that even need to be a part of who you are? I want to believe you can be better than all of that! I wish I had reason to believe you could be better than that,” Ginny concluded softly, staring icily into Draco’s unrevealing grey eyes. She wanted to believe he could be better, not because she thought everyone could be a good person but because she thought Draco could be.

Draco rose and began pacing back and forth in front of Ginny.

“Due to the urgency of this explanation, I’m going to tell you right now that I’m not planning on bothering to stop and write you a letter, partly because I’m not quite sure where my Malfoy wax seal has gone. The last time I saw it was when—never mind.

“First, about Potter. The honest truth is that I’m envious of his—heroic perfection. It’s positively frustrating. He’s proud and hopelessly arrogant, but I’ve seen what he can accomplish, too. He has so much honour—he just thinks I’ve never seen it. I could never——” Draco paused to glance down at Ginny, who was hanging onto and turning over every word. “I could never live up to that kind of life. I’m all arrogance, or so I’ve been told, and I’m much too satisfied with my pride for my own good, or anyone else’s good, for that matter. But I’ve always been jealous of the ease in his bravery.”

Draco took a deep breath, glanced down at his left arm, and continued his astounding tale.

“The second count is a bit more complicated, but it can be very simple if seen the right way. You see, the Dark Lo—You Know Who,” Draco corrected at Ginny’s ‘I told you so’ glare. “—threatened me, Well, he actually threatened my family. But he assumed too much about me, and loyalty. Slytherins are loyal only to themselves, really. And it helps that I haven’t been particularly worried about my family since they left me to be used by him. But that’s another story. The truth of the matter is that I hated that, and I hate him and all the rest of them. Their wavering loyalties disgust me. At least I don’t pretend,” Draco concluded in annoyance.

“And that’s my story.” He knelt in front of Ginny. “Wholly and truly,” he demanded, “What do you think?”

Ginny was at a complete loss for words. The most unexpected, yet the most hoped-for of outcomes had finally presented itself, and she could think of not a word to say. So she reached out one small hand and placed it behind of the back of his neck, leaned forward, and kissed him, confidently and soundly.

Draco, startled at first, promptly wrapped his arms around her neck, twining his fingers through her perfect hair. Their passion enveloped them and they melted into the heat of the embrace.

Several minutes of bliss passed, and, at long last, they pulled apart. Ginny didn’t open her eyes, and Draco leaned forward and gently kissed her temple, right where her hair began. Ginny smiled and, still keeping her eyes shut, leaned into his embrace with hardly a shred of guilt.

As they fell to the grassy ground, they were too absorbed to notice the small, worn book lying beneath them. Pride and Prejudice . Somehow, they had managed to overcome both. The result was this beautiful new beginning.