She ran the brush through her long red hair and neatly put it up in a bun.

~*~
He had always been an insufferable prat. Her first clear memory of him was of him taunting them at Flourish & Blotts before her first year. Of course, she had been madly in love with Harry, so she spoke up in his defense. Even then, his words could cut. All through that year, he seemed to take especial care to pick on her.

~*~
He pat on his cologne, smiling with reminiscence.

~*~
She used to be this quiet, mousy, little thing. He almost didn’t notice her that day at Flourish & Blotts. Even then, she was only important enough to use as a tool to tease Saint Potter with. It had been pathetic how she blindly worshipped him, which made it only too easy to torment her.

~*~
She lightly applied blush to her cheeks and leaned forward to check her lipstick.

~*~
She hated him for everything he ever did to her and her friends, for everything his family stood for. They say people mature with age, but he only became worse the older he grew. Then Umbridge came to the school and, especially after Dumbledore had been driven out, his power over the other students only seemed to grow.

~*~
He slowly buttoned his shirt and pinned on silver cuff links with the family crest.

~*~
His interest in her dropped over the years since their first meeting. He still liked to taunt her now and again to remind her of his existence. Things between them came to a head in his fifth year when he and his gang helped Umbridge capture her, her brother, Potter, Granger, Longbottom, and Lovegood breaking into her office. All hell broke loose when Umbridge left with Potter and Granger, starting with the hex she threw at him. He’d clearly underestimated her. He never imagined she was capable of that much power, and he did not like it one bit.

~*~
She closed the clasp of her pearl necklace, centering it around her neck.

~*~
The incident in Umbridge’s office was her favorite from their Hogwarts days. He had said something so incredibly offensive that she had pulled her wand on him and cast the hex before he could blink. Truthfully, she had been almost as surprised as him, the hex being more powerful than ever before. She smirked with success before running off with the others.

~*~
He pulled his trousers up, tucking in his shirt and threading his belt.

~*~
Before the summer holidays he remembered thinking it was a shame she was a blood-traitor, and poor at that. He was attracted to power and beauty, and Pansy was beginning to annoy him. Well, he’d never been overly fond of her, but there were more and more moments when she was particularly vexing. He remembered catching her eyes, quite unintentionally, at the Leaving Feast. They seemed to hold some sort of promise, though what he couldn’t discern at the moment. He spent the rest of the feast deep in thought about his father. His family’s future didn’t look very bright. He didn’t even notice when he knocked her over while boarding the train.

~*~
She searched through her jewelry box, looking for earrings that would complement her necklace.

~*~
She was put out that he purposefully knocked her over on the train. She had even bruised. However, the prospects of seeing her family again and relaxing with her friends on the ride home soon pushed him out of her mind.

~*~
He tightened his tie and smirked at his reflection in the mirror; he knew he was handsome.

~*~
His summer hadn’t been quite as pleasant. With his father in Azkaban, his family’s position in the Dark Lord’s inner circle was tenuous. It wasn’t until he was approached with a special task, with his family’s lives at stake, that he realized how dangerous a position they were in. He wished for an escape.

~*~
She lightly sprayed her favorite perfume, french vanilla, on her wrists and sniffed.

~*~
Something had changed about him, she noticed. He was nasty as ever, but it held less venom than before. She continued to watch from a distance.

~*~
He ran a comb through his recently trimmed blond hair.

~*~
The stress from the job found him in the unused girls’ loo on the second floor. He went there sometimes to think. He’d discovered the ghost actually made good company. On the day that he was at his lowest, Potter barged in. Wands were drawn, but before he could hurl a decent enough hex, blood spurted everywhere, his own. Potter had the decency to look panicked and run for help when he collapsed. He heard a door open after Potter left, and then a flash of red hair appeared above him. “You’re going to be all right,” she’d whispered. He failed to notice her look of apprehension before losing consciousness.

~*~
She pulled on a white dress to offset her hair, and twirled in front of the mirror, smiling to herself.

~*~
She couldn’t believe Harry had done this. She had never imagined he was capable of such a vicious attack on another student. He was losing too much blood. She was afraid he’d die. She didn’t want him to die.

~*~
He practiced his speech for the guests in front of the mirror.

~*~
He remembered her words later. They seemed to haunt him at night, echoing in his head as he lay awake in bed. No one knew how much comfort he’d taken from those words. He didn’t understand why she had said them, only that he was strangely glad she did.

~*~
She sighed at her reflection in the mirror, raising an eyebrow in question.

~*~
She remembered being so disgusted with Harry afterwards. Needless to say, a relationship between them couldn’t last long. Instead, she found herself becoming strangely attached to him.

~*~
He paced the room in his bare feet, checking the time.

~*~
He just tried to get through the rest of the year alive. Then came the night he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. His job was only half done before his family was saved. He discovered Dumbledore alone at the top of the tower. But when it came down to it, he just couldn’t kill the old headmaster. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. Dumbledore’s promise of protection for his family, and thereby a chance with her, was too strong to resist. But then they were discovered, and he saw all his chances destroyed.

~*~
She walked into her enormous closet and selected the satin shoes that looked best with her dress.

~*~
The night of the invasion was one that would stay stamped in her memory forever. She barely had time to notice him running up the tower steps before concentrating on the fight. She hoped that he wouldn’t do anything stupid, and that nothing happened to him.

~*~
He pulled on his socks and shoes, then left to collect his wife.

~*~
The beginning of his seventh year saw a marked change in him. Having spent the summer under the constant supervision of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, and witnessing firsthand the horrors they were capable of, his heart wasn’t really into taunting the other students. He seemed colder, withdrawn.

~*~
She checked her appearance at her vanity mirror one last time, searching for stray hairs.

~*~
She spent most of the year worried for her safety, and for her friends and family. It was so strange being at school without any of her brothers, Harry, or Hermione, and with dangerous Death Eaters in charge. Despite the stress of the new regime and trying to help the other students cope, she did notice the change in him and wondered what could have put it there.

~*~
He stood in the doorway, his breath caught in his throat as he took in how beautiful his wife looked.

~*~
The only thing on his mind during the final battle was ensuring his family’s safety. If Harry Potter had to suffer for it, then so be it. The last thing he expected was for Potter to save his life. He was very relieved to be reunited with his family at the end of the battle. They looked around the Great Hall, unsure if they would be welcomed.

~*~
Satisfied with the results, she turned towards her husband for confirmation.

~*~
She noticed how uncomfortable his family looked after Voldemort’s fall. She wasn’t entirely sure what made her do it, perhaps it was compassion, perhaps it was the desire to start over in a new world, but she marched over to them.

~*~
His long legs took him swiftly to her side, where they shared a private moment as they gazed at each other in the mirror, each lost in their own memories.

~*~
He remembered staring up in wonder at the girl standing in front of him after the war ended. He wasn’t really sure why, but he reached out to take the hand she offered.

~*~
Smiling, Ginny placed her hand in Draco’s, so reminiscent of her reaching out to him all those years ago. They were wed fifty years ago that day, and it was a little surreal thinking of all the good times, and bad, they’d shared together. As much as she loved the man her husband had become, she sometimes grew nostalgic for the way they were in their school days. They walked out onto the landing to greet their friends and family who had stood by them all these years, each one of them happy for the couple who were still so in love.