Open House

The fallen leaves coated her path in an autumn dusting of serenity. Every time Ginny walked up the front path over the last two weeks, the looming country estate awed her and gave the gift of stepping into an untouchable world.

The house took her on journeys through painful and exquisite memories of her family. At times the estate was a larger-than-life fort for Ginny Weasley causing a giggle at the image of Fred and George pushing Ron out of their makeshift fort for being a wanker. When she rounded the staircase, her eyes rising to the top, the last step wasn’t the second floor but the fifth landing and Ron’s sanctuary. In the kitchen, after observing every square inch of tile and each ghost of cookware illuminating the walls, she could smell the breakfast her mother prepared without fail. What drew her the most was the sight of the boat house, and how all that she could think of was her father’s little shed which once housed the infamous Ford Anglia.

All the cherished moments that remained locked away in her heart danced free in the two weeks she spent restoring the lakeside home. It wasn’t the Burrow, though; it didn’t really even look like her gravity defying, childhood home. It couldn’t be her old wizarding home outside Ottery St. Catchpole because it was gone, destroyed by Death Eaters and there could never be another like it. Ginny honestly did not know why this muggle home, perched on the shore of Bassenthwaite Lake, kept pulling her back in time to relive her repressed memories. If she had to guess it was probably the cozy atmosphere and how each nook and cranny conveyed a well loved home.

For two weeks Ginny cleaned, decorated and renovated the secluded estate. She added knick-knacks, houseplants of various genera, simple wooden furniture sets, and draperies. All the items had a specific purpose for their chosen destination.

At the end of those two blood and sweat filled weeks, Ginny stepped back and admired her work. It almost threw her that the image before her was a resemblance of the Burrow. To an impartial party, the youngest Weasley rebuilt, as close as she could, her lost legacy.

If Ginny’s life had somehow turned out differently after the war, if she had chosen a profession other than real estate, if she had made enough money to afford it…if she had a prospect of a family somewhere in the future, she’d buy this house. However, life’s little ironies are never kind, even to a child of war, and her recreation taunted her. Two weeks…not enough in Ginny’s eyes…and now it would be sold, but not to her.

* * *

Secluded two-story lakeside estate with lush gardens, one master and four suite bedrooms, three baths, kitchen and pantry, dining room, living room, family room, boathouse, and two car garage. Open house from August 15th to 20th. Send inquiries to Bassenthwaite Reality.

* * *

Ginny’s foot tapped impatiently on the foliage-covered path, frowning at her watch. It was August 19th and she had showed the house to fourteen families so far, three a day since the 15th, and her last appointment of the day had gone from fashionably to inexcusably late. She had half a mind to head back to her office and say to hell with him. It boiled Ginny’s blood that someone could be so inconsiderate with another’s time. So, Mister…Ginny squinted her eyes to read the paperwork…Vautrinot can find himself another house because this one deserves an owner that cares enough to at least show up on time, she mused.

Before she had the chance to make good on her decision a dark Charger screeched to a halt in front of the property. “Bloody, unmerciful hell,” she groaned. “He’s inconsiderate and an egomaniac…”

The car door opened and a young man with platinum hair emerged from the car. He turned to appraise the house a moment and then shut the car door. His silver eyes slowly and meticulously savored the home, not even bothering to focus on Ginny’s position beside the front door. They simply swept over her as if she was an invisible entity and only returned to her form when his task had been completed. His eyes widened in shock and Ginny could only imagine she mirror his expression.

“I guess somehow the French name and prompt arrival should have told me it would be you, Draco,” Ginny said caustically.

He walked up the path in slow, calculated steps, all the while saying, “If you didn’t have some fragment of realistic expectations, I would have been offended if you hadn’t guessed it was me, Ginny.” He stopped a mere foot away, never breaking eye contact.

There were so many things she wanted to…needed to say, but she was finding it impossible to open her mouth. What could the youngest of a once over-expansive family say to the one man she never expected to see again?

After Draco disappeared with Snape in his sixth year, he reappeared months later at Grimauld Place. Through Snape’s coaxing and the hope Draco held on to that Dumbledore’s promise to protect his mother would be upheld by the Order, Draco Malfoy swore his allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix and willingly offered any information he had. To help make him feel at home, Harry and Ron found any subtle and not-so-subtle way of paying Draco back for every witch or wizard victimized when he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. What surprised Ginny the most was that Draco accepted each ‘punishment’ and never seemed surprised or upset when the next one was inflicted. It was almost like Draco needed it to repent. Ginny never saw the snobby ferret-faced git again after that…just a broken soul desperate to find any way of mending itself.

She never understood why, but Draco found it in the confidences and love of a Weasley. Watching from afar became coy interactions, which became a connection of trust and affection. Ginny came to feel so much for Draco that the morning she awoke to find him gone from his room, no note, she was consumed by an overpowering loss. It crushed her.

A week passed since Draco disappeared, but no one either knew where he was or cared. Everyone, the whole bloody Order, walked around as if Draco Malfoy had never showed up at all. They were all so convincing she almost convinced herself that she’d imagined him. Almost. Gathering her courage, determined to find the truth, Ginny slithered down the rickety stairs to Snape’s chamber. She barged inside and demanded he tell her where Draco had gone, her audacity and force had even taken her aback. Without a smirk or usual glance of contempt, Snape said that word spread straight to Voldemort’s ear of Draco’s treachery. Snape himself had been the one to collect the blonde from his room and apparate him as far away as possible. Ginny failed to pry the destination out of the old Potions Master.

Here he was though, wanting to buy her house, and smiling in the way that made her legs weak. Fist thing’s first. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m free now. I want to pick up where I left off before I had to hide. I need a home. Shall we?” He gestured towards the door behind her and followed silently behind her. Once inside, he scrutiny resumed with a peaked interest. “You decorate it?”

She nodded and led him through each room. All the memorized speeches she gave to the other families didn’t seem to matter, so she stayed silent.


“This room,” he said when they reached the last bedroom, “will be the nursery.”

Her heart stopped. Why? Why would she be given this gift of seeing him again, but not the ability to have him. “Married?”

“No, but…soon I hope.” He fingered the soft duvet of the single bed fondly. “I’ll give an offer, but it’s dependent on one condition.”

Of course it would be. “Which is?”

“I’ll need a flatmate. This house…it deserves love…like the love you obviously have for it.” He turned to her and sighed. “Share this with me. I…I can’t imagine starting my new life without you in it. Please say you haven’t forgotten me, Ginny. Please tell me that you’ve yearned for what we almost were.” He stepped up to her so that their bodies were a breath apart. “Any price, I’ll pay it, but only if this can be ours. Our home.”

A million thoughts crossed her mind, but the only one that made any sense to her was that she couldn’t refuse this home or their home.

“It wouldn’t be a home for me without you, Draco.” She was home.