Nineteen-year-old Draco Malfoy never regretted his decision to leave England for Japan when he left Hogwarts.

He didn’t need to work; he had, after all, inherited the vast Malfoy fortune after his father’s suicide in Azkaban. Even after one subtracted the darker assets that were sequestered by the Ministry at the time of Lucius Malfoy’s imprisonment, eighty million Galleons was more than one could spend in several lifetimes. But the young man wanted to prove to the world that he wasn’t his father, that he was a different man from the ruthless Death Eater who sired him.

He liked his work at the apothecary. He didn't mind the long hours he spent in the lab at the back of the shop. It was fun to concoct the various potions and poultices their customers asked for. The shop itself was a refreshing change from the dingy, cluttered apothecaries back in Britain. It always smelled nice and the ingredients were stored in properly labeled drawers. The shop was well lit and cheerful.

Normally, Japanese wizards didn’t care much for gaijin folk. But Draco hit it off well with everyone who frequented the Nekomi-no-Yakkyoku. He picked up the language quickly and spoke with a refined Kyôto accent. He was polite, well mannered, and well versed with his work and people liked him for it. Sometimes, he wondered what people would say if they found out he came from a family of Dark wizards. But those times came less frequently now.

It was a lucky chance that he landed the job he had now. One of Professor Sinagtala’s Japanese cousins needed someone to help manage the Nekomi Clan’s apothecary in Kyôto. The young professor was aware of Draco’s skill with charms and potion making. She promptly sent him off with a superlative recommendation almost as soon as his seventh year ended.

“You are a credit to your family, Mr. Malfoy,” Professor Sinagtala praised him at the commencement ceremony. “Not many young men of your age are so willing to be strangers in an even stranger land.”

Draco smiled at the memory as he took a sip of his morning coffee. Few knew that his decision meant a new beginning to him: a fresh start for a family long tainted by the Dark Arts. His mother wept copiously when he informed her of his decision, but even she knew it was for best.

And, then, there was Ginny. His gray eyes strayed to a framed photo of a young girl, her brilliant hair braided and coiled about her head like a reddish gold crown. She blew happy kisses at him and waved exuberantly. He still couldn’t figure out how it happened or even why it happened, but he was a happier man for it.

His mind, as it always did when he remembered her, drifted back to that night a couple years ago. He was in his seventh year and she in her sixth, both unaware that the evening’s events would change their lives forever.

Theirs was a friendship that started with a death.

Specifically, the death of Draco’s father.

On the night Lucius went flying over the northern parapet of Azkaban, his only son buried the hatchet with his worst enemy’s daughter.

They found themselves in the hospital wing together on that dreadful night. He was being treated for shock; she was being treated for hysteria, having caught Harry Potter in someone else’s bed in her own dormitory.

He’d been numb and she was as furious as hell. He heard her fuming in her cubicle, the one next to his. Then, when the screams subsided into sobs, he pushed the curtain back and sat at the foot of her bed.

“Would you mind keeping it down?” he asked. “I’m trying to sleep.” But there was none of his usual rancor in his words. Indeed, he was teasing her but lightly.

She stared up at him in consternation. He was sure she would have spat out something acerbic and snide if she weren’t so upset. But, when she saw the genuine concern in his eyes, she sat up and sighed.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “It’s just that, well…”

“I know. I heard the professors talking.” He cocked his head to one side. “But did you really hex Potter before you left your House tower?”

Ginny managed a rueful smile. “I’m afraid I did,” she admitted. “One of the Asian hexes Ami… I mean, Professor Sinagtala taught.”

Draco managed a faint smile. Given that she was barely a decade older than her oldest students, Professor Sinagtala allowed a privileged few to call her by her given name, Amihan. He supposed Ginny Weasley was one of them, seeing how the professor had been at school with her older brothers.

“Not Kossetsu?” he asked. “Or Fushôka, perhaps?”

“Worse: I did the Minikui hex on him.”

“You didn’t!” Draco was horrified and had good reason to be. Minikui was a Japanese hex that temporarily disfigured the face of its victim. “I thought you loved Potter, Weasley!”

“I thought so, too.” At first, Draco was afraid she would start crying again. “Is it wrong to outgrow the things – and people – we love?” she asked him.

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but thoughtfully closed it. “I don’t think it’s wrong,” he told her. He thought about how things had ended with Pansy Parkinson the previous summer.

***

“We’ve grown apart,” she said. She spent the summer going to every party she was invited to, shopping in Milan and Paris, and having as much fun as she could.

He, on the other hand, stayed home and looked over the paperwork for the family business. Thank Belenos for exposure to the corporate world! Lucius may have been a lousy father and an evil wizard, but at least he’d been a good businessman. Malfoy Works was in the black and that was a major relief.

“I don’t see what you mean,” he replied somewhat coolly. “I have been looking after our family’s lifeblood. Isn’t that a worthy thing to do?”

She cried and accused him of being cold and no fun at all. He, in turn, accused her of being shallow and feather-headed. It didn’t end well, of course.

Yet, he felt glad to be rid of her.

***

“It isn’t wrong,” he repeated, half to himself. “Sometimes, when things don’t feel right anymore, you have to let go and move on.”

She’d fallen silent and regarded him with a newfound respect.

“I would never have believed you could give such good advice, Draco,” she said, smiling faintly. “But, thanks.”

Draco, not Malfoy, he thought, surprised that she called him by his given name. Oddly enough, it sounded, well, right.

“Things will be better in the morning,” he told her. Then, on an impulse, he drew her close and kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep, Weas-…” He hesitated. “Sleep tight, Ginny.”

She looked startled as he got up to go back to his bed. To his surprise, she stood up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“Goodnight, Draco,” she whispered.

***

“Ohayo gozaimasu, Takarai-san,” Draco greeted the first customer of the day. “What can I do for you today?”

“Ne, ohayo, Malfoy-kun,” the short, dark-haired wizard replied. He handed Draco a prescription. “Just the usual for me: some Soothing Smoothie mix and a jar of Blemish Buster.”

“Blemish Buster? With your skin? You don’t need this, Takarai-san!”

The wizard laughed and pointed to the dark circles beneath his snapping black eyes. “Oh, but I do!” he chortled. “Too many late nights are taking their toll on me.”

Draco laughed as he handed the wizard a tiny porcelain jar and a small pouch. “I’d say cut down on the gigs, but that wouldn’t be right.”

“True! True!” Takarai grinned up at the blond potion-maker. “Why don’t you come on down to our live in Osaka on Friday night? I’ll ask Tetsu to give you tickets. Bring Haji-kun and Okabe-kun along; it’ll be fun.”

“You’ll have to go alone if you want to watch, Draco-kun.” With a loud pop, a tall, tanned Japanese wizard Apparated beside Draco. “My cousin and her fiancé are arriving on Friday. And you both know Okabe-kun: he probably has a new girlfriend.”

The three of them groaned, then burst laughing. Okabe, another young wizard of their acquaintance, had a one-track mind.

“I’ll let you and the guys know, Takarai-san,” Draco said as he accepted payment for Takarai’s order.

“Okay. I hope to see you there.” With an airy wave, Takarai Disapparated.

“That, my friend,” Hajime Nekomi drawled, “is one of the end results of too much in-breeding among purebloods.”

“Who? Takarai-san?”

Hajime nodded. “He's barely a couple inches over five feet tall. Would you believe he’s already thirty?”

“I would. I had a teacher at Hogwarts who was much shorter and he was pushing 120 while I was there.”

“Ah.”

The two young wizards busied themselves filling orders for the dozen or so customers who dropped by that morning.

Around noon, Hajime caught sight of a new face browsing through the racks and drawers.

“Ne, Draco-kun!” He nudged Draco in the ribs. “Isn’t that the girl in the picture on your piano?”

Draco looked up sharply and gasped. A petite redhead was studiously looking over their stock of dried flower buds and loose teas. She was dressed simply in a blue halter-necked sundress and strappy sandals with cork-wedge soles. Her skin was creamy and unblemished; the faint scattering of freckles across her nose seemed to enhance her beauty rather than mar it.

“Ginny?” he exclaimed, stepping out onto the selling floor. “Is it really you? I wasn’t expecting you till Friday!”

She turned and smiled tenderly at him. “Of course it’s me!" she exclaimed. “Who were you expecting, Draco? Millicent Bullstrode?”

Draco laughed as she threw herself into his arms. He held her tight, resting his cheek on her head.

“I couldn’t wait to see you,” she whispered, happily.

Hajime grinned cheekily at them.

“Well, it looks like you won’t be going to Takarai-san’s concert alone!” was all he had to say.

“You look wonderful, Gin!” Draco exclaimed as he admired his girlfriend.

“Thank you, Draco.” Ginny colored up prettily. Thank Belenos her cheeks just went pink! Her brothers’ faces went all blotchy whenever embarrassed or flattered.

Hajime beamed at them both. “You must be Ginevra,” he nodded to Ginny and spoke in perfect English. “Young Mr. Malfoy speaks highly of you.”

Draco hid a small smile, knowing his employer was in for a surprise.

“Sô desu ka?” Ginny’s eyes twinkled as she smiled at Hajime. Then, she bowed gracefully in true Japanese fashion. “Nekomi Hajime-san desu ka? Atashi wa Weasley Ginevra desu; demo, adana wa Ginny desu, ne. Hajimemashite? Yoroshiku o-negai shimasu, Nekomi-san.”

“I should have remembered that you’re my cousin’s research assistant!” Hajime laughed ruefully as he shook hands with Ginny. “Your Japanese is lovely, Ginny.”

“Thank you,” Ginny replied politely. “Your cousin deserves all the credit for that. Amihan’s a great language teacher.”

“Yes, and both you and Draco are a credit to her.”

Draco cleared his throat to get their attention. “Sorry to intrude,” he apologized. “But perhaps you’d find your conversation more enjoyable over a spot of lunch?”

“Of course.” Hajime looked thoughtful. He turned to Ginny, inquisitively. “Have you ever had Japanese food, Ginny-chan?”

“A few times,” Ginny nodded. “My eldest brother once took me to this little sushi bar in Muggle London.” She beamed at Draco. “And, for our first date, Draco took me over to Nobu.”

Hajime’s eyes widened at that. “He took you to Nobu?” he exclaimed. When Ginny nodded, he whistled, obviously impressed. “The man’s a Muggle, but he’s a real kitchen wizard!” He winked at Draco. “You, Draco-kun, obviously know how to impress a woman.”

Draco smiled. He remembered that date very well, but the way he asked Ginny out had been more memorable.

***

It was a couple of days before the Christmas break and all of Hogwarts buzzed with activity.

Since Voldemort’s death, Albus Dumbledore’s dream of unity among the four Houses had become a reality. If in the past the students of each House stayed with their own Housemates, it was a whole new ballgame now. Students sat with their friends regardless of their affiliations. Even the Slytherins who were the last to come around to it were seen flitting from table to table, chatting, eating, and doing homework with the others.

In the days following her breakup with Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley was usually seen in a thoroughly mixed company of witches. Most were a year older than she was and, in an odd twist of fate, Pansy Parkinson was one of her dearest friends. It was odd because Pansy’s ex was now openly courting the youngest Weasley.

Draco approached where Ginny and Pansy were and managed to overhear a rather tender and sensitive conversation.

“Do you mind terribly, Pansy?” Ginny asked her Slytherin friend. Draco stopped in his tracks, knowing that they could not see him. Their backs were turned towards him.

“Mind what, Gin?” Pansy busied herself with wrapping up presents.

“Um…” From where he stood, Draco could tell that Ginny was blushing. “Draco’s been paying attention to me.”

“I know. So does most of the school, by the way.” Pansy turned to her with the most sincere smile Draco had ever seen on her face. “I had a fit when I first found out,” she admitted. “But you’ve been such a good influence on him, so why should I mind? I’m happy for you, Gin.”

“But what about you, Pan?”

“Aw, don’t mind me! Lots of fish in the sea, my dear; I’ll find one, never fear.”

“That rhymed,” Draco drawled as he came to stand behind them. They looked up and both girls were grinning hugely. “Hallo, ladies. Mind if I join you?”

“Go ahead.” Ginny nodded him to a vacant place across from where she and Pansy sat. She blushed even pinker when he planted a kiss on the crown of her head as he made his way to his seat. “What was that for?”

“My way of saying good morning.” He grinned cheekily at her. He shook his head when he saw Pansy’s unevenly wrapped pile of presents. “Pan, for Belisama’s sake, that’s what gift-wrapping counters and servants are for!”

“Mind your own business, Draco!” Pansy snapped at him. She patted the pile fondly. “At least, I took the effort to do it myself.” She excused herself and carried the presents back to her dormitory.

When Pansy had gone, Draco felt the heat rise to his cheeks when Ginny gave him her attention.

“Are you all right?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “You’ve gone all red, Draco.”

He decided not to mince any words. “Come to lunch with me the day after tomorrow, Gin,” he told her. “Well, that is, if it’s all right with you.” The words spilled out of Draco like an unstoppable wave. “Um, if it’s all right, I’ll Floo your parents later and ask them. Have you ever had Japanese food? I hope you do. I made reservations at this posh new Japanese restaurant in Muggle London and wanted you to go with me. Do you like flowers? Roses and that sort of thing? Or would you rather have me bring – “

Ginny held her hand up to shut him up. Her face was serious, but the mirthful twinkle in her eyes betrayed her.

“You’re babbling,” she chided him.

“Um…” Draco lowered his gaze.

“I’d love to go with you.” When Draco looked up, the sweetest of smiles was on her face.

“You…you will?” He tried not to show it, but the way he gripped the edge of the table spoke volumes. It was all he could do to keep himself from turning cartwheels along the entire length of the Great Hall.

She nodded. Then, she leaned over to press her forehead lightly to his. “I’ll see you later,” she told him.

“Er, yeah.” He looked flustered as she walked away. Flustered, yes, but happy.

***

“Of course, you should have seen the look on her brother’s face when he saw us together,” Draco chortled. Beside him, Ginny was desperately trying to stifle her giggles. “He was as red and as angry as a Chinese Fireball on a rampage.”

“You’re not serious!” Hajime exclaimed.

“He is!” Ginny chimed in. “Ron came marching over to where he was sitting even before I’d left the Great Hall and started hurling hexes.”

“And they dueled?”

“Belenos, yes!” Draco was shaking his head at the memory. “The teachers ended up hauling both of us to the infirmary, seeing how I ended up jelly-legged and I made his front teeth grow to epic proportions.” He grinned wickedly. “Come to think of it, it was the same hex I threw at his girlfriend when we were in our fourth year.”

They all laughed. The three of them were finishing up a fine lunch of Kyôto specialties: sesame-flavored tofu, raw and grilled fish so fresh it still seemed to be breathing as they took bites, and vegetables picked just that morning from local gardens.

“You’ve had an exciting courtship,” Hajime told them.

“You don’t know half of it.” Ginny rolled her eyes as Draco put an arm about her waist. She playfully punched him in the arm.

“And we plan to settle down soon,” Draco said in a quiet voice.

“Do you?” When both nodded, Hajime sat back and regarded them thoughtfully. His eyes narrowed at them as if he was trying to see something. He must have seen something as his grin suddenly widened and he nodded.

“In that case,” he said, “why don’t we go pay the musubiya a visit soon as we’re done here?”

***

Shinju Seifuku saw them coming from where she stood by the window of her bakery-café: the tall blond gaijin boy who worked at the apothecary walked hand-in-hand with a petite red-haired beauty.

Hajime told her they would be coming over, that they would ask her advice for their wedding. She couldn’t see why, of course.

These gaijin are so ignorant, she thought, amused. She could see the knots in the red thread that streamed from the boy’s hand to the girl’s. With all those knots in the thread, they’re as good as married!

Nevertheless, she looked forward to meeting them. It wasn’t everyday that Kyôto’s greatest musubiya got called in for foreigners’ weddings.

“Narcissa Malfoy!”

The lady of the manor smiled when she saw the russet-haired head in the fireplace of her personal parlor.

“Good morning, Molly,” she replied, taking a seat in the armchair closest to the fireplace.

“To you, as well, Narcissa.” Molly Weasley grinned broadly at her. “You’re well, I hope?”

“Much, much better than I used to be. Thank you for asking.”

None of their children knew that the two women were friends before their respective marriages. The Prewetts and the Blacks had always been close, even if the Malfoys and Weasleys were always at each other’s throats. Lucius Malfoy’s death gave Molly and Narcissa the opportunity to renew their friendship.

“Ginny Flooed us this morning,” Molly now advised Narcissa. “She arrived in Japan safely and has joined Draco in Kyôto.”

“She’s staying with him?” Narcissa asked.

“Yes, at his flat in the wizarding section of Kamigyo.” Molly frowned slightly. “You know, I don’t really approve of this staying together whilst they’re still unmarried.”

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t,” Narcissa chided her. “They’re happier together.” She remembered Draco’s moody letters and Floo conversations during his first month away. He really was happier with Ginny. “Besides, they’ll be formally married, soon.”

“I know,” Molly relented. “Still, I can’t help but get all emotional. Ginny is my only girl, you know.”

“The feeling is mutual, Molly dear.” Narcissa smiled. “Draco’s my only child. Despite knowing that he’s a man and not a boy, I do cry myself to sleep sometimes over my baby. They’ll always be babies to us, no matter how old they are.”

“How true!” Molly regarded her friend sympathetically. “You look so lonely, Narcissa darling.”

“I am,” Narcissa sighed. “With Lucius dead and Draco abroad, there’s just me and the servants in this huge house.” She made no mention of the other society queens she met when her husband was alive. Deep in her heart, she hated them all; they were no friends of hers.

“Come over for tea at four today,” Molly invited her. “My house isn’t a grand showplace like yours, but it’s cozy and you won’t feel so lonely. Besides, we can start talking about the wedding plans.”

“Thanks, Molly. It’ll be a pleasure to come.”

Molly grinned impishly. “I’ll do you a cream tea if you’re up to it,” she said.

Narcissa smirked back, rather devilishly delighted. Lucius forbade her such treats when he was alive, saying it was no indulgence for a lady of high station. She saw no point in following such a prohibition now he was gone.

“Molly Prewett-Weasley, you’d better have Thunder and Lightning when I get there!”

***

The sign mounted over the door was a tastefully traditional one done up with cherry wood and silver ideograms, silent testimony to the establishment’s reputation.

Musubiya Seifuku was one of Asia’s most respected wedding shops. It was also one of the oldest, the business spanning as far back as the 11th Century. The shop and the clan that ran it were responsible for the most amazing weddings – magical and Muggle – the region had ever seen. From the simplest ceremonies to the most opulent of receptions, they did everything with finesse, passion, and a whole lot of class.

Moreover, the matchmakers who called the shots had the highest success rate of matches and marriages in the world. The Clan’s musubiya-tachi had a reputation for relentlessness and ruthlessness when it came to looking for destined pairs. Few dared to trifle with them; time had proven that it was a dreadful thing to cross any member of the Seifuku family. Hell, even their Squibs got everything right.

Shinju, Jinkei, and Chigiri Seifuku were the foremost members of the current generation. Shinju, the eldest, also held the current position of Kyôto’s foremost musubiya.

Ginny studied this young witch with the exalted reputation as they made their bows of greeting. The musubiya was a good friend of Amihan’s as the two of them had worked together in the United States some years ago.

Shinju was only twenty-three, but her sharp brown eyes spoke of wisdom beyond her years. She wore Muggle clothing: beautifully tailored jeans, a plain white shirt that accentuated her womanly curves, a neat white baker’s apron, and pretty blue shoes. Her short black hair was kept from her face by a white kerchief. Her smile was very pretty: sweet but neither false nor cloying.

“Irasshaimase,” she greeted them, gesturing them into the shop. “Come on in.” Her English was like Amihan’s, her accent somewhat North American. “I know you’ve just had lunch, but I doubt if you’ll say no to some dessert and coffee.” She winked playfully at them. “My team and I just finished frosting some chocolate and caramel petits fours and I think I can rustle up a bit of mont blanc and kasutera, too.”

She ushered them into her office, a Western-style affair with a comfortable sitting area furnished with velvet couches and a glass coffee table. She clapped her hands, and a staff member Apparated in.

“Kohii to puchi kêki assoto to kasutera-sando o-negai shimasu,” she commanded the white-smocked employee.

The young man bowed. “Hai, o-taishô,” he replied. “Yorokonde!”

When the employee had gone, Shinju took a notepad and pencil off her desk before joining them.

“You would be Mr. Draco Abraxas Malfoy and Miss Ginevra Molly Weasley.” She smiled at Draco and Ginny. It was a statement, not a question.

“We are,” Ginny replied, smiling back. Draco, likewise, inclined his head towards her. Hajime simply grinned, but kept his silence.

“I’m glad to see you both and this won’t be the last time we’ll be seeing each other. I’m officiating at the Lupin kekkon on Saturday.”

“You can officiate at weddings?” Ginny asked, somewhat surprised. “I thought a musubiya only made the preparations.”

“Some do,” Shinju agreed. “That’s what my younger brother and sister do as not all musubiya-tachi are allowed to do the kekkon, the binding ceremony.” She looked rather thoughtful, then turned to Hajime. “Haji-kun, don’t the women of your Clan have the Talent?”

“They do,” Hajime replied. “All three of the surviving Sinagtala sisters have kekkon-no-ninka, as a matter of fact.”

That was a startling revelation to both Draco and Ginny. “You mean,” Draco chimed in, “Amihan is a musubiya herself?”

“Yes, and she could’ve done her own binding ceremony herself.” Shinju shrugged. “Well, I am flattered that I was asked to officiate. Ami-chan and I have been friends since we were kids.” Ginny quailed a bit when the musubiya turned her razor-sharp gaze to her and Draco. “Which brings us to the two of you, now.”

Before Shinju said anything more, a full coffee service for four and an epergne loaded with good things appeared on the coffee table. She motioned for them to help themselves. As they nibbled the excellent sweets and sipped the fragrant coffee, Shinju regaled them with funny stories from weddings she planned and officiated. Ginny had to admit she was a very good storyteller as she had them all in stitches.

“Do you mind helping us, Shinju-san?” she now asked the musubiya. “I mean, will it be an issue that we’re gaijin and not even Asian?”

“Of course not,” Shinju shook her head as she put a couple of chocolate cupcakes onto Ginny’s plate. “Eat up, dearie; I can’t stand to see scrawny witches.” She gave the two a rather pointed look, though. “But I have to admit that I’m more than a little baffled.”

“Baffled?”

“I’ve seen your thread.” Shinju cocked her head to one side, her lips curled in amusement. “I don’t know what anyone’s told you, but you’re the only couple I’ve seen that has at least fifteen knots in their thread who still think they’re unmarried!”

“You’re not serious!” Draco exclaimed at the musubiya’s announcement.

“I’ve never been more serious in my life, Malfoy-kun.” Shinju regarded him intently. She got up, went over to her desk, and rummaged through one of the drawers. When she returned, she handed a pair of rose-tinted glasses each to Draco and Ginny. “Put those on,” she instructed them. “Then you’ll see what I mean.”

Draco managed to choke back an oath at what he saw with the glasses. Dangling from the little finger of his left hand and looped around the same finger on Ginny’s right was a bright red thread knotted up in fifteen different ways.

“Can you tell how long these knots have been around?” he asked the musubiya.

Shinju narrowed her eyes as she drew closer to study the thread. Most of the knots had been sloppily tied, save for the one in the center of the thread. The musubiya held it up and grinned.

“This is the work of a master musubiya,” she declared. She tugged at the knotted thread. “It’s so tightly bound!”

Ginny turned to Draco, her brown eyes wide in shock. “Do you suppose Amihan did this?” she asked him.

“She probably did,” he replied thoughtfully. “But when would she have tied it?”

They stared at each other and exclaimed, “That detention!”

“What detention?” Hajime asked, his curiosity piqued.

“I was sixteen and Gin was fifteen,” Draco began. “We were still dating other people then. I provoked her into a fight one afternoon and ended up serving a detention with her.” He grinned impishly at Hajime. “Your cousin’s a sly witch if there ever was one. She probably saw the thread and tied the knot while we were working.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she did.” Hajime looked thoughtful. He held his hand out to Draco. “Mind if I borrowed those glasses for a bit?”

“Not at all.” Draco handed the glasses to him.

“Hmm…” Hajime was pensive as he studied the thread through the glasses. He looked at both Draco and Ginny. “Would you know anyone who wants to break your relationship?” he asked them.

Ginny made a face at that. “Some of my brothers do,” she replied, her nose wrinkling up in distaste. “My brother Ron, most especially. He and Draco were in the same year and they hated each other like the plague.” She turned to Hajime, puzzled. “Why did you ask?”

Shinju answered for him. “Sometimes, a musubiya is forced by circumstances to tie additional knots into a thread.” She sat back and counted the reasons on her fingers. “We only do that if there’s a danger of separation: wars, plagues, damnfool friends and relations, even hereditary infidelity. Some couples even request it for the sake of strengthening their bond.” She frowned. “Now, even with some pesky siblings, why would anyone want to pull you two apart?”

“Our families were on opposite sides of the fence when it came to the Dark Arts,” Draco explained. He sighed and Ginny squeezed his hand comfortingly. “I guess old hatreds die hard.”

“Don’t get gloomy about it, though.” Shinju dimpled playfully. “As long as you have each other, it doesn’t matter what the world says.” She picked up a pile of catalogs from a side table and began to leaf through them. “Of course, I know you two will want a formal ceremony and reception. So: let’s get down to business.” She grinned rather toothily at them. “Now that we have the actual binding out of the way, what motif would you lovebirds like?”

***

“We’re married!” Ginny exclaimed when they arrived at Draco’s flat early in the evening.

After the visit to Musubiya Seifuku, they went back to the apothecary and said nothing more about the afternoon’s discussion. Ginny helped the guys out for the rest of the day. Now, however, she wanted to talk about the whole thing seriously.

“Did you have your heart set on the whole ‘white-lace-and-promises’ scenario?” Draco asked her, raising an eyebrow in the process.

“No!” Ginny laughed and impulsively hugged him. “I don’t care how simple our wedding is. I agree with Shinju: it doesn’t matter what they all say so long as we’re together.”

Draco smiled as he held her close. His younger self would have sneered at the whole thing and demanded all the trappings of a classic pureblood society wedding. But now that he was a bit older and having survived the worst moments of his life, he just wanted to get the formalities out of the way so he could spend eternity with his red-haired goddess.

“Our mothers will demand all the fripperies, though,” he reminded his spouse. “You’re an only girl and I’m an only boy, so we may as well humor the old dears.”

“I know.” Ginny nodded and gazed up at him. “I won’t mind if you don’t.”

“I don’t and I daresay we can survive at least one major bash. Don’t you think so, Ginny?”

“I definitely agree.” She snuggled up to him. “I’d love to cling to you all evening, but I’d better take care of supper.”

Reluctantly, they let each other go and Ginny bustled to the kitchen. As Draco watched her go, he remembered the very first time he uttered the three little words that meant so much to them both.

***

“What’s wrong, Draco?”

Draco looked up to see his fellow Slytherins standing behind him. Earlier, he’d gone up to his favorite parapet to think about how complicated his life was getting to be.

“Oh, hi, guys.” He got up and saw that all the seventh years were there. “What are you all doing up here?” he asked, a trifle annoyed with the lot.

“Snape told us to go check on you,” Pansy replied. “He said you were a little green around the gills when he saw you earlier.”

“I’m fine!” he snapped at them. He began to walk away, but Crabbe and Goyle loomed large in his path. “Get out of my way!”

“Not till you tell us what’s been eating you, mate,” Crabbe rumbled at him.

Draco stared at them in consternation. Finally, when he realized they weren’t leaving him alone, his shoulders fell. “I’m in love,” he admitted.

“With Ginny.” Pansy smiled and turned to Blaise Zabini. “Pay up, Blaise; I win.”

“But it’s not going to work!” Draco wearily ran a hand through his pale hair. “She’s a Gryffindor, I’m a Slytherin, and our families have been out for each other’s blood since time immemorial.”

“And just because of that you think we won’t work out?” Ginny stepped from behind Millicent Bullstrode. She confronted him, her hands on her hips. “Draco Malfoy, I thought you had better sense!”

“How did you get in here?” he demanded of her.

“We snuck her in,” Goyle admitted. “We were getting sick of watching you mooning over her, so we decided to take matters into our own hands.”

And people think he and Vince are stupid! Draco shook his head at the thought. He placed his hands on Ginny’s shoulders, his silvery eyes meeting her brown ones. “I do have better sense,” he assured you. “I don’t want anyone hurting you because of me.”

“I don’t care!” Fiercely, she embraced him and tears began streaming down her face.

“I’m not a hero like Potter!” he protested.

“I don’t want a hero, Drae!” she cried. “I want you - just you and nobody else.”

That finally put things into proper focus for him.

“I love you, Ginevra Weasley!” he sighed as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“And I love you, Draco Malfoy,” she whispered in return.

Things would have turned to mush at that point if Blaise hadn’t broken the silence. “You know, you lot, I adore romantic moments like these,” he gushed. “But shouldn’t you do this indoors? I mean, we’re positively freezing our arses out here!”

***

“Drae!” Ginny called from the kitchen. “Would you mind setting the table for supper? I’ll be done in a bit.”

“I’m on it.” Draco waved his wand over the dining table and muttered a short spell. In seconds, the table was in perfect order. His mouth watered when he caught a whiff of what she was cooking. Mmm… Roast beef and Yorkshire pud; I haven’t had that since I left England!

It was more than the roast and the pudding that made it to the table. Ginny also made proper mashed potatoes, gingered carrots, and a cherry-and-almond trifle made according to her mother’s recipe. Draco looked upon the food approvingly.

“Looks like a feast for the gods!” he declared as he held Ginny’s chair out for her. He waved his wand in the direction of the cupboard where he kept a small collection of excellent wines. “Accio Cabernet!” He uncorked the wine with a bit of ceremony and poured a little into their goblets.

“To us, darling Gin!” Draco raised his glass to her as he took his place at the table.

“To many happy times!” Ginny replied, clinking her glass upon his.

***

But while Ginny made merry with Draco in Japan, someone in a dingy lab in England was grimly stirring something in a cauldron.

Ron loved his sister dearly, but he could not stomach the fact that she was in love with the man he and his friends had hated for so long.

“You’ll thank me for this someday, Gin,” he muttered to his absent sister while the contents of the cauldron bubbled ominously. His blue eyes narrowed at the mixture. “No sibling of mine is going to marry a Malfoy. I’ll make sure of that.”

“You’re married.”

“You don’t seem too surprised, Mother.” Draco frowned at his mother’s calm acceptance of the news. “I was half expecting you and Mother Weasley to go ballistic.”

“Mercy, Draco!” Molly laughed. “Remus and Amihan told us all about it a couple of years ago. I must admit we were a tad scandalized at first, what with your fathers’ prejudices and all. But you’ve both been so happy, so we decided to help out.”

“By tying more knots into our thread?”

It was eleven in the evening in Kyôto and four in the afternoon in England. Draco and Ginny decided to call their families and give them the news by way of the Mirror Service.

Fireplaces have never figured prominently in Asian architecture, seeing how much of the region never really experiences winter. In the places that do, people used bonfires and braziers to stay warm. Thus, everything related to the European Floo Service was practically non-existent. Instead, they communicated and traveled through specially charmed mirrors. When Draco moved to Japan, he made sure to charm mirrors both at the Manor and at the Burrow so he could stay in touch with his loved ones.

To Draco’s surprise, he found his mother at the Burrow. Apparently, Molly had invited her to tea so she wouldn’t feel lonely.

“They told you?” Ginny seemed a bit put out. “You never told us!”

“We never told you we’ve always been friends, either.” Both Molly and Narcissa laughed.

“And you don’t mind that we’re married – even unofficially?” Draco asked them.

“Arthur was horrified at first,” Molly admitted. “But we’ve all pretty much accepted it.”

“Have you told the boys, Mum?” Ginny asked her.

“No, we haven’t. You know how your brothers are, Gin; they’ll not accept Draco wholeheartedly at first. It’s best to break the news to them gradually.” She looked thoughtful. “I do, however, think Amihan may have already told Bill and Charlie. They were at Hogwarts together, you know.”

“Do you think they’d mind, Mum?”

“I doubt it.” Molly grinned at Draco. “Provided your young gentleman over there never hurts you.”

“You have my word as a gentleman, Mother Weasley,” Draco assured her as he put an arm about Ginny’s shoulders.

“You two look lovely together,” Narcissa said somewhat wistfully.

“Thank you, Mother Malfoy.” Ginny blushed, but looked pleased.

“I’m sure your children will be just as beautiful.” Narcissa grinned mirthfully. “Speaking of grandchildren, I won’t mind if you two give me an even dozen!”

“A dozen!” the two exclaimed, horrified.

“I’m kidding, of course,” Narcissa laughed. “But, seriously: I wanted more children after you were born, Drae.” She looked sad as she spoke. “But your father said no. He had an heir and, to him, there was no reason to have others.”

“He was a dreadful sort, Mother,” Draco remarked quietly. “He was my father, but that doesn’t change the fact that I wanted to throw a party when he was gone.” He smiled and tenderly kissed Ginny’s cheek. “I promise you all that, when the time comes for me and Gin to raise a family, I’ll be a much better father than he ever was.”

***

“Ron, you’re being unreasonable!”

Hermione Granger looked exasperated as her fiancé busied himself with the potion that had occupied most of his time for the past few weeks.

“I’m not being unreasonable!” Ron shouted back. “Honestly, Hermione: would you really like to have Draco Malfoy for a brother-in-law?”

“I don’t,” she replied. “But that doesn’t mean you have to do this!” She stood behind him, grasping at his shoulders. “Ron, the War’s been over for nearly five years,” she whispered. “Give the man a chance. For all we know, he’s a far better person than his father was.”

“No!” was Ron’s adamant reply. He spun around and grabbed Hermione. “You don’t understand, Hermione! The Malfoys have been evil from the very beginning. Only the gods know what they’ll do to Ginny if she marries that git.” He gazed into her eyes. “They’ll turn her against us with their pureblood nonsense, ‘Mione. Can’t you see that?”

With brimming eyes, Hermione shook her head and tore herself out of Ron’s hands. “No, Ron,” she replied bitterly. “I don’t see it.” Weeping, she fled Ron’s study, silently cursing the hard-heartedness of the man she loved.

***

“I don’t understand what’s come over him,” she exclaimed to Bill. “It’s like he’s still obsessed with the idea of revenge. To think that the War’s been over for ages.”

Hermione left Ron to his own devices and sought the advice of his brother Bill. Since his marriage, Bill had been transferred to Gringotts Headquarters at Diagon Alley and had been promoted several times since. Bill and his wife, the former Mademoiselle Fleur Delacour, now had a lovely home in a well-off suburban area not too far off from the Burrow.

Bill and Fleur were rather surprised to see their incipient sister-in-law crying at their doorstep early that evening, but were all ears as to what she had to say. It went without saying that the Bill Weasleys looked none too happy about what they heard.

“What eez ‘e working on, Hermione?” Fleur asked her when she joined them in the sitting room. Fleur’s English was much better now than it was years ago, but she still hadn’t managed to get rid of her thick accent. “Eez eet an illegal potion or sometheeng?”

“I have no idea what it is, Fleur,” Hermione admitted with an air of frustration. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen or brewed before.”

“What deed eet look like?”

“It’s rather thick, the color’s about very light gray or very pale blue.” Hermioned gulped. “There are times when it smells vile and times when it smells like fresh summer fruit.”

Fleur looked grim and she shared a troubled glance with her husband. “Nous regardons une situation sinistre, mon mari,” she murmured over to him. “Elle a juste décrit un breuvage magique très dangereux.”

“Vraiment?” Bill frowned. “Est-ce que vraiment c'est est dangereux, cherie?”


“Oui.” Fleur nodded. She turned back to Hermione, a bleak look on her beautiful face. “Cher Hermione has just described a diedu.”

“A what?” Hermione exclaimed in bewilderment.

“Diedu,” Fleur repeated. She got up and picked a book off one of the shelves. “Eet eez a vairy dangerous love potion,” she explained as she flipped through the book. “It can keel people if you do it wrong.”

“Kill?” Hermioned screamed.

Fleur nodded. “Oui, zat is why ze Chinese banned eet centuries ago.” She threw a beleaguered look at her husband. “Mon Dieu, Beel!” she declared. “What ‘as gotten into our Ron?”

“I’m sure Ron would never hurt Ginny,” Bill murmured, but there was uncertainty in his words. “But he has to stop this before he gets himself into trouble.” He looked at Hermione. “Will you be going to Amihan’s wedding in Japan on Saturday?” he asked her.

Hermione nodded. “Yes,” she replied. “Ron and I have made Portkey reservations.”

“I wish we could talk to Remus or Amihan before the wedding,” Bill groaned. “But we’d best make do with the circumstances.” He smiled a bit and patted Hermione’s shoulder. “Don’t fret about it,” he assured her. “We’ll sort things out soon enough.”

***

“No, Gin. I won’t have you sleeping in the guest room tonight and that’s final.”

Draco’s flat was, by Japanese standards, a rather roomy one with a bedroom and a sleeping loft. When bedtime rolled around, Ginny had shyly told her fiancé that she would stay in the guest room. Draco, however, would have none of it.

She squealed when he lifted her up and carried her off to the loft. He set her down on the right side of his bed and tucked her in.

“You, Mrs. Malfoy, will stay with your husband,” he admonished her playfully.

“Ordering me around already, Mr. Malfoy?” she teased him in return, eyes glittering with fun. “For shame: we haven’t had a formal ceremony yet!”

“Oh, really?” he snorted as he got into his side of the bed. “Fifteen knots in our thread, Gin, and we’re the last to know.” He turned to her, concern in his silvery eyes. “Look: I won’t force you into doing anything you don’t want to do.”

She studied him for a moment, then smiled. She slipped her arms about his neck and drew him close. “I know you won’t,” she whispered archly. “But what makes you think I won’t talk you into it myself?”

Taking that as a go-signal, Draco’s lips sought hers. Needless to say, they got very little sleep that night.

“They’re married?” Blaise exclaimed, his eyes as round as saucers. “By Ceres, that is a surprise!”

The Slytherin alumni were all gathered at Silver Mists, a lovely manor house given to Pansy Parkinson by her parents when she came of age. Pansy received a Brazier Post message from Ginny earlier in the day, telling her about the most unusual revelation that changed the status of her relationship with Draco overnight.

It’s about bloody time! Pansy thought as she read the letter, a Cheshire-Cat grin on her face. She was so happy about it that she threw an impromptu luncheon for the happy couple for all their Slytherin friends.

The Slytherins had always been a close-knit lot, a group of people who were closer to each other than they were with blood kin. Their parents may have been Death Eaters, but not many people knew that they helped turn the tide against Voldemort towards the end of the War. During the Final Stand, the Siege of Hogwarts, the Slytherins turned against their own families, openly deriding their belief in the evil that was pureblood supremacy. Draco never spoke of it, but he was responsible for keeping the Death Eaters at bay while Potter and Company confronted the Dark Lord. His father threatened to disown him, of course, but Lucius was hauled off to Azkaban before he could do anything.

And he says he isn’t a hero! Pansy shook her head and laughed at the memory.

The young Serpents stayed in touch with each other even after leaving school and Ginny Weasley had been unofficially “adopted” as one of their own. (The Gryffindors, of course, had a lot to say about that. Ginny managed to shut them up, though.) Pansy, the gang’s unofficial “den mother”, beamed at everyone from her place at the head of the table; she was pleased everyone was successful and happy.

Draco was currently abroad, working for a bit before he took over the helm at Malfoy Works. Pansy, herself, was now a Healer at St. Mungo’s and specialized in skin disorders and cosmetic sorcery. After Millicent Bullstrode lost weight, she got a job as a dietary adviser for Witch Weekly; her column was very popular, especially among body-conscious young witches.

Tracey Davis was in training to be a barrister along with Theodore Nott. Both did amazingly well and were due to take the Wizengamot Examination for Legal Licentiates (WELL) in a year’s time. Pansy seriously wondered how the two managed to excel at their work given the amount of debauchery they indulged in at night. Despite his feminine name, Trace was very manly. Teddy, on the other hand, was a smooth talker. Both were popular with the ladies.

Vince Crabbe took over his father’s construction business after the latter was sent to Azkaban. Greg Goyle, on the other hand, joined the family brokerage firm and surprised everyone by becoming its sharpest broker. Greg married Daphne Greengrass almost as soon as they left school and, while not perfect, their marriage was a blissful one. Daph was currently seven months on the family way and bulked as large as her burly husband with the bump.

Blaise Zabini shocked everyone when he came out of the closet in their sixth year. He was also a Healer and shared a cosmetic sorcery practice with Pansy.

“They’ve been married all this time and didn’t know it?” Vince rumbled, most certainly amused.

“How’s Drae taking it, Pan?” Millicent asked.

“Very well!” Pansy smirked wickedly. Ginny had given her a glowing report; not all the details, but enough for her to infer that Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy were getting along splendidly. “Ask him yourself when you see him at the Lupin wedding on Saturday.” She scanned through the letter. “Um, they’re preparing for a Western ceremony and want us girls among the bridesmaids.”

“Send Gin my regrets,” Daphne laughed, patting her swollen belly. “I’d love to go, but Greg Junior here is in the way.”

“Oh, tell Ginny-winny I’ll do her hair!” Blaise pleaded, wringing his hands.

“Teddy,” Pansy turned to young Mr. Nott. “Drae wants to know if you’ll stand as best man.”

“What?” Teddy looked surprised. “He doesn’t want Ginny’s brother for a best man?”

Pansy frowned and shook her head. “Ginny herself wants Ron as far away from Draco as possible.”

“Even after all this time?” Trace exclaimed.

“Trace, you remember what happened the day they became a couple, don’t you?”

***

They walked into the Great Hall together, arms linked and heads close together: the white-blond boy and the red-haired girl. They whispered between themselves, giggled from time to time. Sometimes, the boy popped a kiss onto the girl’s creamy cheek.

Pansy smiled as they went in. She could hear the gasps and see the stares thrown her friends’ way. Was it such a shock to them? Was a partnership between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin such an impossibility? People could be so narrow-minded sometimes!

Neville Longbottom moved quickly and was soon walking alongside Pansy. “Tell me I’m not seeing things!” he begged her. “Malfoy and Ginny?”

“Hey, it’s not such a surprise.” She slipped her hand into his. “Did anyone complain when I started dating you, Nev?”

“No,” Neville chuckled. “But, Pan: old feuds die hard.” He pointed to Ron Weasley who, even from a distance, was beginning to have a face as red as his hair. “Draco’s lucky only Ron’s left. If the twins and Percy were still here - !” He shuddered. “Merlin, but hell would break loose.”

“Malfoy!” a voice roared from the Gryffindor table.

Everyone’s eyes were riveted to Ron who came storming over to where Draco stood with his sister. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter tried to restrain him, but he managed to wriggle free from their hands. He looked dreadfully angry.

“Get your filthy Death Eater paws off my sister!” Ron snarled.

Ginny glared daggers at him and only clung harder to Draco. He put his arms protectively about her.

“Apparently your sister would rather be with me than with you, Weasel,” Draco drawled, his silvery eyes narrowing dangerously. “I wonder why.”

“Come away from him, Ginny,” Ron ordered her.

“No!” Ginny snapped back. “I love him and he loves me.” People began murmuring when she said this.

“Dammit, Gin: he’s a godsdamned Slytherin bastard. He’s not good enough for you.” He threw a look seething with hate and disgust at Ron. “He’ll never be good enough for you!”

“I’d rather have a Slytherin bastard who pays attention to me than some so-called hero who ignores his girlfriend and can’t stay in his own bed!”

A shocked gasp echoed through the Great Hall. All Harry could do was scramble under the Gryffindor table in shame.

“Come here!” Roughly, Ron wrenched Ginny out of Draco’s embrace. Apparently, he hurt her: Ginny cried in pain. Ron had yanked her arm rather forcefully.

“He hurt his own sister!” Pansy stared at the spectacle in horror.

Before anyone could move, however, they heard a loud crack: Draco punched Ron in the face and sent him sprawling to the floor.

“How dare you hurt a woman!” Draco roared, flying at Ron. “Your own sister, Weasley! Your own sister!”

Ron quickly retaliated, getting blows where it mattered.

“I’m just trying to protect her, Ferret-boy!” he howled as he punched Draco in the stomach. “I’m saving her from bastards like you.” He landed a punch on Draco’s jaw. “Take that, Death Eater spawn!”

“DRAE!”

Draco fell unconscious to the floor just as the professors entered the Great Hall. Ginny broke away from Hermione and went at once to Draco’s side. Ron was about to fly at the unconscious boy, but Professor Lupin unceremoniously yanked him away. The Great Hall was in an uproar, but the Headmistress was quick to restore order.

“He’ll be fine,” Professor Sinagtala assured Ginny, Neville, and the worried Slytherins after examining Draco. “He’ll have a nasty headache when he wakes up, though.” She motioned to Crabbe and Goyle. “Take him up to the hospital wing.” The boys nodded and easily carried Draco between them. Professor Sinagtala put an arm around Ginny’s shaking shoulders and led her out of the Hall.

But, as they were leaving, they heard Ron shout, “Don’t trust him, Ginny! He’s not good enough for you! He’ll never be good enough for you!”

***

“And Ginny says he hasn’t changed his mind.” Pansy shook her head sadly.

“Why, that awful git!” Trace exclaimed indignantly. “And they say we Slytherins are prejudiced.”

The dining room fireplace flickered to life with greenish flames. A disembodied voice called out, “Pansy Parkinson!”

“Nev dear!” Pansy cheerfully greeted the head that appeared in her fireplace. “Won’t you join us for lunch?”

Neville Longbottom, Pansy’s fiancé, grinned. “I’d love to, but we’re super-busy,” he replied. “I see everyone’s here, though.”

“Hey, Neville!” The Slytherins had also accepted Neville as one of their own. The once awkward Gryffindor was now a Herbologist of high standing.

“Oi, you lot!” he greeted them in return. “Everyone coming to Saturday’s wedding in Tokyo?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Vince declared. He smirked at Neville. “Of course, we’ve also been invited to a smaller reception in that part of the world.”

“Smaller reception, Vince? Who’s the invitation from?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy,” Greg declared with aplomb.

“Mr. and Mrs. ~ !” Neville’s eyes widened in astonishment. “When did that happen?” he demanded.

“Do explain everything to Neville,” Pansy chortled as she got up. “I’ll just go see to our entrée.”

It was the Thursday before the wedding and the Slytherins, with Neville in tow, went en masse to Tokyo via Muggle airplane. It was a great deal slower than traveling by Portkey but certainly more comfortable. Blaise had to admit he got a decent eyeful of handsome lads on the plane, as well. He and Millicent cackled excitedly over the lot during the flight.

Draco picked them up at Narita on a magically enhanced SUV that accommodated everyone comfortably. He dropped them off at the Hotel Momiji, a posh affair that catered exclusively to wizards, in equally plush Roppongi. They took time to freshen up, then Apparated to the lobby of Draco’s Kyôto flat for tea.

“Sumimasen,” Teddy motioned to the young Japanese lady at the front desk of the Kamigyo Mansion. “Malfoy Draco-san no apaato wa doko desu ka?”

“Dai go no kai desu yo,” the woman replied, smiling slightly. She stood up and waved her hand over a mirror that hung behind her desk. “Karetachi wa donata desu ka?”

“Nott Theodore desu,” Teddy replied with a deep bow. “Bokutachi wa Malfoy-san no tomodachitachi da. Kare wa bokutachi matte imasu yo.”

“I didn’t know you spoke Japanese, Ted,” Vince murmured, rather astonished.

“Seventh-year pre-NEWTs Cultural Magic,” Teddy replied, smirking confidently.

“Maa, chotto matte kudasai,” the receptionist advised them. Ginny’s face appeared in the mirror; the receptionist spoke to her. “Gomen nasai, Weasley-san; demo, Nott-san to nakama ga tsukimashite.”

“Sô desu ka?” Ginny nodded to the receptionist. “Chotto matte kudasai.”

A few minutes later, Ginny came out of the lift. She was clad in a sapphire blue kimono, her coppery hair swept up and held in place by a jeweled kanzashi; her smile was absolutely radiant.

“Drae told me you’d be here for tea,” she said as she ushered them into the lift after the necessary courtesies. “He won’t be in 'til six; he went back to work after he dropped you off at the Momiji.” She grinned wickedly. “Pity; I ordered all his favorites from the local bakeshop.”

“Save the poor lad an éclair, then,” Greg rumbled. “That way, we’d all feel virtuous even if we polish off everything else.”

Everyone laughed as the lift opened onto the fifth floor. Ginny led them to a spectacular flat where a scrumptious tea was laid out in the dining room.

“Do sit down, everyone,” Ginny invited them, gesturing towards the table. “Help yourselves.”

They sat down to hot chocolate, green tea, cream puffs, éclairs, chocolate petits-fours, and a selection of wagashi.

As he sipped the cup of hot chocolate Ginny poured for him, Teddy studied Ginny and contemplated the changes he noticed in her and in Draco. Married life obviously agreed with them, though they weren’t exactly married in the legal sense. Draco’s laughter came more easily now and Ginny had certainly blossomed. Teddy could tell even now that theirs wasn’t going to be a perfect marriage, but it was going to be a happy one.

He caught Ginny’s eye and slightly raised his cup to her. To you and your better half, Gin, he thought. Long may the sweetness last.

***

Hajime and Draco both knew that the customer who came in that afternoon was up to something.

He was a wizened old fellow clad in a white kimono. He would’ve looked like any other elderly Japanese wizard if it weren’t for the color of his clothing. In the West, black is the color of the Dark Arts and symbolizes evil at its worst. In Asia, however, white is the color of death and the emptiness that follows it. Corpses are dressed in white before burial – and wizards who openly wore the color of death were definitely up to no good.

The old man had asked if they had any dried Lethifold skin. Draco replied in the affirmative and asked what it was for. The old man grinned evilly and drew him close to whisper that it was for a Strangling Solution to get rid of his Muggle neighbors. At that, Draco reared up, angered by the idea.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Draco drew himself up, his tone cold and expression grim. His height and coloring made this move particularly impressive. “But we do not serve Dark wizards here. I suggest you take your business elsewhere.”

“Impertinent boy!” The old man leered at him. “I’ll make you lose every customer you have!”

“You can try, sir.” There was a dangerous emphasis. Draco leaned forward so that his nose was barely inches away from the old wizard’s. His silver eyes glinted dangerously. “But that won’t stop me from calling in the Karigumi on you or dealing with you myself.” He set his wand onto the counter with a deliberate slowness, tapping it in a nerve-wracking manner. “I assure you that I’m a dab hand at hexes and curses – and I’m not afraid to use them.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” The white-clad wizard drew back in horror. Still, he recovered enough to sneer at him and make a rude gesture before marching out of the apothecary.

“That’s one customer I don’t mind losing,” Draco remarked to Hajime when the man had gone.

“Same here,” Hajime agreed. Draco was minding the selling floor while he mixed up a fresh batch of Sachi-kusuri, a popular antidepressant potion. He looked up and regarded his colleague quizzically. “Don’t you find it ironic that your father was a Dark wizard and yet you abhor anything that has to do with the Dark Arts?” he asked.

“Not really,” Draco admitted, as he carried a carton of glass phials over to a nearby shelf. As he began restocking the display of analgesic potions, he explained why. “I was a right bastard when I was younger,” he began. “I did everything my father told me to do and I hated everything he hated, Muggle-born wizards and half-blood, mostly. I lived in his shadow and tried to win his approval, seeing how I probably would never get his affection.

“When Voldemort fell and Father was thrown into Azkaban, I was furious. It seemed like everything we'd believed in crumbled to dust.” He looked up, his pale face somber in the afternoon light streaming through the front window. “There was nothing left in my heart but hatred and a wild desire to take revenge.”

“What happened then?” By this time, Hajime had stopped working, engrossed as he was in Draco’s admission. He stood in the doorway of the lab, arms folded across his chest. “What made you change your mind?”

Draco pursed his lips as his mind flew back to that day…

***

“Get the hell away from me!” he screamed, hurling an empty butterbeer bottle at Pansy. She managed to duck, and the bottle smashed noisily on the wall.

The morning following his father’s suicide, Draco managed to sneak out of the hospital wing and into the Slytherin common room. Before even five minutes passed, he realized it was a mistake.

Everyone wanted to condole with him, to cheer him up. Pansy tried to comfort him, but he would have none of it. It was more than he could stand. He began pushing people away, throwing things, screaming…

He fled the common room before his rage got the better of him and he started hexing and cursing people.

He collapsed in a stairwell, more than a little unaware of where he’d ended up in. Hot tears began to spill over his cheeks, his normally pale face flushed scarlet.

“I hate you, Lucius Malfoy!” he howled, his words ringing with rage. “I hate you! I hate what you did to my mother! I hate what you did to me!”

In his mind, he could see his father’s cruel face, lips curled in a truly evil smirk, eyes glinting with malice.

“And people say I’ll be just like you someday,” Draco whispered, hugging his knees as he rested his chin upon them. “Some father you were!”

He heard footsteps close by. Grabbing his wand, he suddenly got to his feet. “Who’s there?” he snarled. “Can’t a man get any peace around this school?”

A russet-haired head peeked around the corner, brown eyes meeting gray ones.

“It’s just me, Draco,” she replied. “Everyone’s looking for you.”

“Why?” he demanded. “So they can tell me I’ll be following in my father’s footsteps soon? That I’ll be a Dark Wizard just like him? That I’ll be some manky git who…”

“Draco, stop!”

He stared at her. She’d grabbed him by his arms and shook him hard – no mean feat for someone a good head shorter that he was and built like a fairy.

“Stop it!” she cried. “Stop comparing yourself to your father, Draco. He’s dead and you’re alive. You can change things. You can prove everyone wrong.” She regarded him candidly. “You’re not Lucius,” she said in a quieter voice. “You’ll never be Lucius Malfoy. You’re Draco Malfoy and you have your whole life ahead of you.”

“It’s too late,” he muttered bitterly.

“It’s not too late, you prat!” She kicked him lightly in the shins to emphasize her point.

“But everyone…”

“What do you care about what anyone says?”

“Ginny…”

“Will you let them tell you what to do with your life?”

He froze at that. She has a point, he thought. A valid point!

“What do you want to do now, Draco?” she asked him. “What do you really want to do?”

“Go abroad,” he blurted uneasily. “Work for a bit. Make people forget that the Malfoys were ever a family of Dark Wizards.” She let him go, but he held her hands. “I want people to see I’m not my father, nor will I ever be like him.” He sighed. “Am I making any sense at all?” he asked her.

“You are.” A gentle smile touched her rosebud lips. “A lot of it, as a matter of fact.”

“I want to get out of Britain soon as I’m done with school, Ginny. I don’t know how I’ll be able to do that, but I can always pray that something will come up.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” She wiped the tearstains off his face with her own handkerchief. “Do you feel better now?”

“Yes,” he replied. Awkwardly, he kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Ginny.”

She blushed; he thought she looked very pretty when she blushed. “You’re welcome,” she responded.

Hand in hand, they made their way back downstairs.

“How did you know where to find me?” Draco asked as they went down a flight of stairs.

“I didn’t.” There was a mischievous smirk on Ginny’s face. “I was running away from my ex.”

“Potter’s still bothering you?”

“Oh gods, yes!” Ginny looked more than a little annoyed. “He ran up to me and asked to be given a chance to explain about his dreadful behavior; he said he was just cheering up Callista Cuthbert because she was lonely.”

“And his idea of cheering her up involved playing ‘How’s your Father?’ with her? In the dorm you shared with her no less?” When she nodded, Draco looked disgusted. “And they say I’m a sick bastard!” He shook his head in dismay. “How did you get away from him?”

“I hexed him.”

“Minikui again?”

“No. I threw the Naishashi at him. He should be out of sorts for the next two hours or so.”

Draco smiled almost beatifically at that. “That ought to make our Double Potions class most interesting,” he beamed.

“What? With Harry’s eyes crossed and seeing double?”

“Belenos, yes!” He smirked wickedly at her. “With everyone paying attention to him, no one will be bothering me.”

She stared at him in consternation, then the two of them burst into laughter.

***

“Tadaima!” Draco sang out as he opened the front door.

“Okaeri nasai!” Ginny ran over to him and was immediately swept into a passionate embrace. “Someone had a good afternoon at work!” she laughed when he released her.

“Oi, Drae!” Teddy called from the living room couch.

“Hallo, you lot.” Draco stowed his shoes into the rack by the front door and flopped comfortably between Teddy and Greg. “Enjoying yourselves?”

“Oh, yes,” Neville chuckled, as he passed a plate of éclairs to Draco. “We were just chatting with Ginny about how the two of you have gone native. I mean, Gin’s in a kimono and you look like something out of a samurai story.”

“Well, it’s comfortable,” Draco agreed, pointing to the hakama he’d worn to work. “There’s a notion, Nev! I told Hajime I’d take tomorrow off so I could show you lot around.” He grinned. “We can shop.”

“And you can meet our musubiya,” Ginny chimed in as Draco pulled her onto his knee. “She’s wonderful.”

“In that case,” Neville chuckled. “How can we refuse?”

He gave the cauldron one final stir.

“Just about ready,” he muttered to himself.

Taking a ladle, he decanted a portion of the viscous blue liquid into a small crystal flask.

“Ron!” a voice called from downstairs. “Ron, where are you? We’ve a cab waiting outside!”

“In a minute, ‘Mione!” Ron called back as he put a stopper on the flask. He held it up to the light streaming through a nearby window and smiled.

Ginny will thank me for this, he thought as he made his way downstairs. And Malfoy will never know what hit him.

***

To the untrained eye, one would think that the crowds of youngsters in Tokyo’s trendy Harajuku area were just dressed to shock. Elegant gothic aristocrats swanned about in Western attire from the Baroque period. The deeply tanned ganguro and yamanba girls strutted about on platform boots, their colored hair loose and swinging freely in the summer breeze. Girls – and boys – trotted from one shop to another, clad adorably in Gothic Lolita fashion. Young men could be seen in outfits consisting of long coats, black denims, motorcycle boots, and silver accessories, their hair styled and colored in eye-popping ways. Tourists would cluck their tongues disapprovingly at the spectacle, exclaiming how wild these young people were.

Not many knew that these were magical kids and young adults dressed in what was, to them, their customary manner. For unlike in the West where wizards have to more or less keep their nature under wraps, the wizards of Asia have never had any trouble mingling with Muggles. Indeed, in many parts of the region, magic is considered part and parcel of daily life.

Draco and Ginny brought their friends to Tokyo for a day of shopping and socializing with the Japanese wizards they hung out with. The newcomers stared about them, entranced by the eclectic mix of magic and Muggle culture that was Harajuku.

“It’s fascinating!” Pansy exclaimed breathlessly, awed by the vibrant colors and bustling activity.

“It gets more exciting at night,” Ginny assured her. “Wizarding bands or soloists perform at the clubs come evening. They’re very good.”

Draco led them to a small, somewhat exclusive jewelry shop that showed off some exquisite pieces of silver and platinum jewelry in the window.

“This is where I got Ginny’s engagement ring,” he told them, playfully kissing the ring on Ginny’s hand in the process. “I’ve also commissioned them to work on our wedding rings.”

When they entered the shop, there was a handsome blond youth behind the counter. He was holding a pair of delicate-looking tools in his hands, obviously engraving what appeared to be a circlet for a woman’s head. He smiled when he caught sight of the group.

“Hi,” he greeted them. “What can I do for you today?” His English was perfect and but faintly accented. Indeed, he didn’t even look Japanese; he was as tall, pale, and blond as Draco. Come to think of it, he did look like Draco.

“Hey, Okabe!” Draco greeted him. “Just brought the missus and some friends over for a spot of shopping.”

“’Missus’, huh?” The blond Japanese boy smirked at Ginny and winked at her. “You’d be Ginny. Your workaholic boyfriend’s chattered a tsunami about you.” He gallantly kissed her hand; heedless of the death glare Draco threw his way. “Enchanté, Mademoiselle Weasley – or should I say, Madame Malfoy?” He laughed at Ginny’s startled face. “Shinju told me,” he explained. “We’re friends.”

“Friends?” Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. “Spare us, Okabe!” he exclaimed. “If Gin and I are married, what does that make you and Shinju Seifuku?”

“Partners-in-crime,” Okabe replied nonchalantly, buffing his nails on the front of his robes. “Immorality, actually, but that’s all a matter of perspective.” He beamed at the group. “And who might these charming folk be?”

“Friends from Hogwarts,” Draco replied. He introduced them one by one. Then, he jerked a thumb at the grinning young shopkeeper. “This, my friends, is Satoru Okabe: jeweler, clothing designer, reckless driver, equally reckless flier, incurable flirt, composer, poet, and recording artist.” He grinned slyly at Okabe who looked miffed by the introduction. “We’re distantly related, by the way.” He pointed to his own blond hair and then at Okabe’s. “The hair and eyes are proof enough.”

“I’m this git’s second cousin – a dozen times or so removed – on his father’s side and my mother’s,” Okabe admitted. “Pureblood wizard, yes. Pureblooded Japanese, no. Isn’t it obvious that I’m a throwback to the French side of the Malfoys?” He shrugged. “But, that’s all beside the point. What can I do for you today, Drae?”

Draco explained that his friends were looking for kimono and hakama to help them blend in, as well as wedding presents for Remus Lupin and Amihan Sinagtala.

“I can help you, then,” Okabe said with a smile. He settled pregnant Daphne into a comfortable armchair and pressed a switch on a nearby wall. A splendid tea service appeared within Daphne’s reach. He smiled at her. “So the good okaachan won’t have to trot all over the place.”

Daphne beamed at him. “Thank you,” she said. “This is most comfortable.”

Okabe helped them choose appropriate outfits. Before long, Neville, Trace, and Teddy were dressed like the young shopkeeper and Draco in hakama in varying shades of elegant gray. Vince and Greg bulked large, looking like yokozuna out of the sumo ring but were nevertheless dignified looking.

Ginny helped Pansy and Millicent pick theirs out. Pansy was delighted by a gorgeous kimono in a shimmering garnet-and-gold brocade. Okabe sweet-talked Millicent into one in a magnificent plum that looked wonderful on her. They were even able to find a lovely loose robe for Daphne in rose with a design of white almond blossoms scattered all over it.

“But what about me?” Blaise wailed.

“For you, my friend, I’ve the perfect solution!” Okabe pointed his wand over to a rack. “Shôshû murasaki-na-kimono!”

A beautiful silk kimono flew to his hand. It was much simpler than the women’s outfits and a trifle gaudier than the men’s, but looked wonderful on Blaise. The dark-haired boy nearly wept tears of joy as he admired himself in a mirror.

“A kimono and not a hakama?” Draco asked Okabe, puzzled. “Why?”

“Your friend won’t be a man much longer,” Okabe replied with a mysterious smile. He held up a finger to silence Draco’s querying. “Don’t ask me how I know or even how it’s going to happen, but it will.”

Their clothing purchases out of the way, the group then clamored to see Okabe’s jewelry stock. Ginny’s engagement ring – one of Okabe’s projects – was stunning and they all hoped to find something equally exquisite.

Okabe turned the others over to his staff, then called Draco and Ginny into his office.

“Your rings are done,” he informed them. He smirked. “If you two wanted to get married tonight, it could be arranged.”

They all laughed, then Okabe presented the rings to them. They were magnificent: Draco’s ring was in platinum and a serpent made of emerald chips wound about the surface while Ginny’s ring was gold with a ruby-chip lion about its circumference.

“They’re beautiful!” Ginny exclaimed breathlessly. Draco tenderly gave her shoulder a squeeze. She smiled and patted his hand. “Darling, thank you.”

“I asked Okabe to make us something as beautiful and unique as you are, Ginny-o.”

“Gorgeous, tasteful, one-of-a-kind, and so damned expensive I can afford to record my next album – and probably five more, too – in Muggle Hollywood!” Okabe chuckled as he put the rings back into their velvet-lined box and proceeded to wrap them, black and gold ribbons streaming out of his wand. He tucked the box into a small white bag and handed it to Draco. “It was a pleasure doing business with you,” he said, eyes twinkling. “I also have a little gift for you and your missus, old boy.”

Draco and Ginny watched, surprised, as Okabe ducked behind his desk to retrieve a pair of silver bracelets that looked unnervingly like thorns and were set with black onyx.

“These are bannin-no-udewa,” he informed them. “Protection bracelets, one for each of you.” As he spoke, he affixed one bracelet around Ginny’s right wrist. “They’re supposed to let you know if either of you are in danger. If you’re in trouble, Draco, the bracelet on Ginny’s arm will fall apart.” He picked up the other bracelet and began to put it on Draco’s left wrist. “If she’s in trouble, then…” No sooner had he locked the clasp, the bracelet fell to the desk with a loud clatter, the silver-set onyx beads breaking loose from the silver links. Okabe’s already pale face went even whiter. “Oh, shit…” he swore.

To Draco and Ginny’s consternation, he made a grab for the Muggle telephone that hung nearby and dialed nervously.

“Moshi-moshi,” he screamed down the handset. “Shinju-chan, oide!” He slammed the handset back on the phone and sank heavily into his chair. “What the fucking hell is going on here!” he grated.

“What is it?” Ginny asked in bewilderment. “What’s going on?”

Draco put his arms protectively about her. He was about to point his wand at the shattered bracelet, but Okabe stopped him.

“Neither Reparo nor Naosu will be able to fix that bracelet,” he advised Draco. “At least, not until the danger’s passed.”

“Then, how…”

As if on cue, Shinju Seifuku Apparated with a loud pop in one corner of the office. She had obviously been baking when Okabe called; a light dusting of flour covered her from head to foot. She looked very annoyed.

“Baka yarou!” she swore at Okabe. “Kimi wa atashi jamashite! Nan da yo?!”

“Bokutachi ga okii na mondai aru yo,” Okabe replied grimly, pointing to the pieces of Draco’s bracelet scattered over his desk. “Kono go dame da ne, Shinju.”

Shinju’s eyes widened when she saw the fragments and drew closer. She shook her head worriedly.

“When did this happen?” she demanded from Draco.

“Just now,” he said.

Shinju looked at Ginny and sighed.

“Someone’s out to get you, my dear,” she warned the horrified redhead. Shinju cracked her knuckles; it was a most unpleasant sound. “But we ought to get him first.”

The door to Satoru Okabe’s office slammed open with a terrible crash.

“What the bloody fucking hell is going on here?” an irate Amihan Sinagtala demanded, hands sternly on her hips and her glorious amber eyes flashing.

“It’s good to see you, too, Ami-chan,” Okabe drawled drily.

Amihan reared up as if to pounce on the blond Japanese youth in anger. But, when she saw the faint sparkle in his ice-blue eyes, she gave a sharp bark of laughter.

“Bakero!” she chided him, reaching over to mess his already tousled hair. She hugged Shinju, Ginny, and Draco before gracefully draping herself into a chair. “So! What’s so important that you lot disturbed me from fixing lunch for my husband?” She declared that last word with great aplomb, having celebrated her Catholic church wedding to Remus Lupin in Manila the previous day.

No one said anything, but Okabe pointed to the fragments of what appeared to be a bracelet on his desk. Amihan’s eyes widened and she choked back an oath as she fingered the bits of silver and onyx. There was a lot of power emanating from the fragments when she touched them.

“A bannin-no-udewa,” she whispered. Only then did she see the unbroken bracelet around Ginny’s wrist. “Puñeta!” she swore. “When did this break?”

“About ten minutes ago,” Draco replied in a grave tone. He turned to her with bewilderment written all over his face. “Who would want to hurt Ginny?”

“Not hurt her,” Shinju chimed in. She took Ginny’s left hand and raised the pinky finger slightly. “Tell me what you see, Amihan.”

“’Maryosep!” Amihan hissed angrily as she looked at the little finger. There was a white thread wrapped around it; she was sure that no one else could see it save for her and Shinju. And white is the color of death, she thought.

“Draco,” she now said in a tight voice. “I believe Satoru-kun has a Kaiwa-kagami in the other room. Would you mind calling the Tokyo Portkey Bureau for me? Ask them if any Weasleys have arrived within the past half-hour.”

“Surely you don’t think anyone in my family would want to hurt me!” Ginny cried, her eyes filled with horror.

“I’d rather not,” Amihan assured her in a bleak tone. “But we can’t be too sure.”

***

Bill and Charlie Weasley were among Amihan’s dearest friends and Remus’s best comrades during the Final Stand. It was, thus, a foregone conclusion that they would be invited to their musubiya wedding in Japan.

They did, of course, bring their better halves along. Bill brought Fleur and Charlie his obviously pregnant Cyzarine.

The four of them were at Nekomi-jô, ancestral keep of Amihan’s maternal relations, where Remus Lupin was presently regaling them with the funny things that happened during their church wedding the previous day.

He was about to tell them about the mishap that occurred when Sirius Black drank too much punch and “accidentally” unzipped a woman’s gown when Amihan’s face appeared in a nearby mirror.

“Remus dear,” she called.

“Hallo, darling!” Remus greeted her. He pointed to the visitors. “Look who’s here.”

“Hi, Bill and Charlie!” Amihan beamed at them, but they noticed that her amber eyes looked worried.

“Oi, Mrs. Lupin!” Bill called teasingly.

“Where are you, Ami?” Charlie asked.

“At a friend’s shop.” She frowned. “Did Ron come with you?”

“No,” Charlie replied. “He and Hermione took a later Portkey.” He checked his watch. “They should be here in Japan by now.” He turned back to her. “Why?”

Amihan was obviously simmering with anger; her face had gone scarlet and the pupils of her eyes had narrowed into slits.

Bill and Fleur stared at her, knowing almost at once what was bothering her.

“Mon Dieu!” Fleur exclaimed. “Ron’s ‘ere – and ‘ee ‘as brought ze diedu!”

“Diedu?” Charlie stared at them quizzically.

“A mind-altering potion,” his wife and Remus chorused.

Remus looked grave. “He’s planning to use it on Ginny?” he asked Bill.

Bill nodded. “That’s what Hermione told us,” he replied.

“He’s planning to subvert her mind against Draco, then,” Remus declared with finality.

“But we like Draco!” Charlie protested. “He’s a nice enough bloke, his Death Eater dad notwithstanding. Besides, Ginny’s been happy with him; he takes good care of her.”

“Cap’n,” Amihan broke in, calling Charlie by the nickname they gave him at school, “you might like young Mr. Malfoy, but Ron hates him like the plague.”

“So do Percy and George, come to think of it.” Bill’s lips twisted as he thought for a bit. “Ron’s not that much of a potion brewer, Ami.”

“That’s an understatement,” Amihan scoffed. “But if Hermione went and told you, that would mean she isn’t involved.”

“If she isn’t involved, then who could’ve told Ron about the diedu?” Remus wondered. His violet eyes suddenly widened as he hit upon a realization. Unfortunately, it was a realization that sat rather uncomfortably. “Percy?!”

***

Percy Weasley knew he was in for it. And, boy, was he in for it!

He knew Draco Malfoy now lived in Japan and that his sister was currently staying with him in a posh Kyôto neighborhood. He also knew that young Malfoy’s crowd of former Slytherins were also invited to their former teachers’ wedding in Tokyo. He was also aware that, by this time, Remus Lupin and his bride were already in Japan along with his brothers and their wives.

He did not, however, count on having all of the abovementioned personages – along with three other people he didn’t recognize – barging into his room at the Muggle-run Hotel New Otani with murder written all over their faces.

There was a loud, angry screech. Ginny flew at him first, her brown eyes wild with fury and her manicured fingernails ready to scratch his face clear off his head. He was fortunate that Malfoy managed to wrap his arms about her waist and drag her away. It was most unfortunate that Malfoy took a swipe at Percy, though. Worse still, his fist connected with Percy’s jaw. That was most painful.

Remus, ever the voice of reason, managed to calm everyone down. But, just as Percy was about to rise and thank him, the former werewolf whipped out his wand and aimed it at him.

“Petrificus Totalus,” he intoned almost lazily and Percy crashed back onto the floor.

“You needn’t put a foot on the lad’s chest, Cap’n,” Amihan scolded Charlie who was taking the extra precaution of keeping Percy down with a heavily booted foot. “The Full Body Bind can keep him down.”

“I’d rather not take chances,” Charlie grated between clenched teeth, glaring evilly at his fallen brother in the process.

“Anyone got Veritaserum?” Malfoy asked his gang of hooligans.

A tall, curvaceous young woman – Percy was shocked to see it was Millicent Bullstrode – rummaged in her purse and handed a small phial of clear liquid to him. If Percy hadn’t been hexed, he would be quailing by now.

“Shall I unfreeze him now?” Remus asked Amihan, his wand at the ready.

“Go ahead, dear.” She waved him on, her amber eyes glinting dangerously. “I want some answers.”

Malfoy held the flask of Veritaserum up to a Japanese wizard with a whimsical expression on his face.

“One drop or two?” Malfoy asked.

The Japanese wizard looked down at Percy. “Depends on how much he’s hiding,” he remarked thoughtfully.

Another wizard who was as thin, pale, and blond as Malfoy took a glass from the room’s mini-bar. He pointed his wand at it. But, before he cast any spells, he looked over to Ginny.

“Does your brother drink or is he a teetotaler?” he asked her.

Ginny frowned and quickly went into conference with her two eldest brothers. When they nodded, she said, “Better make it something non-alcoholic, Okabe-san. Veritaserum has awful side effects when mixed with alcohol, you know.”

“Such as?”

“Please don’t let him go streaking through Tokyo, mate,” Bill begged him. “He’s a horror story come to life when he’s starkers.”

“Okay, point taken.” The blond wizard intoned a spell at the glass. “Bibulum caramel cola!” The glass quickly filled up with the dark fizzy drink. “Want ice with that?” the blond quipped.

“Nah, he’ll take it straight,” Malfoy snapped, picking up the glass and adding two drops of Veritaserum to it. “Remus, could you snap him out of it?”

“Not a problem.” Remus again leveled his wand at Percy. “Finite Incantatem!”

At once, Percy sat up and began backing away from the menacing group around him.

“It was all Ron’s idea!” he babbled. “He said he wanted to get rid of Malfoy, that Ginny deserved better. He was planning to marry Gin off to Harry!”

At that, everyone’s eyes widened and all began to talk at once. Again, Remus silenced them.

“And you went along with him because of that?” Remus stared at him in disbelief. He jerked a thumb at Percy and turned to Amihan. “Darling, the poor man’s obviously out of the loop.”

“He’s been doing too much in the way of overtime at the Ministry,” Ginny sighed, shaking her head.

“I don’t think so, Ginny-o,” Draco was quick to correct her. “If I remember correctly, your brother was never one to listen to gossip.”

“Not really,” Charlie joined in. “When he does, he listens to the wrong sort of gossip. Remember what he did during the Triwizard Tournament, Gin?”

“Stale news,” an effeminate boy Percy remembered as Zabini sniffed. “How droll.”

“Would somebody mind cluing me in on what’s going on?” Percy now shrilled at them.

Draco raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Percy,” he began, “how does Ron intend to marry Ginny off to Harry when Harry himself is getting married next week?”

Percy’s jaw dropped as the crowd in his room began to laugh.