Lies and Smiles

Let me tell you a small tale, one that is not about death and mayhem, because those things do not come naturally to me. So, instead, let me tell you a tale with little lies and the twists of the heart. A tale with smiles, kisses and a happy ending. Let me tell you about Ginny.

The little lies, you see, are her lies. The ones she tells herself. They begin with the one she tells herself for a very long time: that Harry Potter is her own, personal saviour; and that one day he will come to her and sweep her off her feet into his arms and his heart. She believed this lie until the day when she kissed him goodbye, letting him go to chase Horcruxes. It was this day that she realised that Harry Potter was not hers. Oh, she had said she would wait for him, and he had promised he’d come back for her. But on that day, she would much rather have been the crusading angel at his side than the prize at the end of the journey. And once she had realised that she was, in fact, his prize, she knew that he didn’t belong to her. Instead, she belonged to him.

The next lie she told herself was that this was ok. She was going to be the girl who got the boy-who-lived, and that was enough. She loved him and he would come back to claim her. And, so he did.

The smiles were something entirely different. I don’t mean Harry’s smiles. Ginny had seen those for a long time, and while they were nice, they always seemed to be shared with everyone around. No, these were selfish, one-person smiles that were intended for Ginny and Ginny alone. Let me tell you about the first of these smiles.

After school had finished, she had been recruited into the Holyhead Harpies. It was a rough learning path at the beginning, and Harry’s burgeoning career at the Ministry meant that they got little time together. The time that they did spend together was usually spent at a small pub on a back alley of Diagon Alley – and this time was normally shared with Ron and Hermione. It was at one of these gatherings that the smiles began.

Things seemed to have been going badly from before she arrived. Harry, Hermione and Ron were sitting around a table, talking quietly but heatedly. Ginny didn’t need to look far to discover why.

Draco Malfoy was seated at the bar. He wasn’t watching the trio, but from the set of his shoulders he knew that he was being talked about. He also seemed to expect a curse between his shoulder blades at any moment. He turned to glance up at the door, saw her, and gave her a smile. The smile said, ‘god, if I’d known that they were here, I wouldn’t have even walked in the door’; the grimace she sent back said, ‘and, of course, you were too proud to turn back at the doorway and leave again.’ This small piece of correspondence was completely missed by the trio, who were completely consumed in their own little world. Ginny wandered over.

Ron wanted to hex him. Hermione was trying to convince him that this was exactly what he wanted. Harry kept trying to tell them all how Malfoy’s parents had helped him against Voldemort. Ginny flopped on a chair, exhausted already from training, and proceeded to ignore the conversation.

Malfoy left half an hour later. The trio took no notice, continuing to squabble meaninglessly. Ginny became tired of being ignored, tried to turn the conversation, failed, and gave up to go home and sleep before her seven o'clock start the next morning.

Ginny never forgot that first smile; the first smile that was completely for her, and not meant to be shared with the general populace around.

It was over four months before Ginny’s lie gave out on her. Harry had kissed her and begun to talk about kids. She had insisted that she wanted to have a long and happy life before any kids came around. He had accused her of being selfish, of putting her wishes before the direction of the relationship. Ginny had exploded into a Molly Weasley-esque diatribe about who was actually selfish in their relationship: namely, Harry. He had become quiet but didn’t acquiesce. Harry suggested a break in their relationship. Ginny had agreed.

The next smile she received was in Flourish and Blotts, ten o'clock on a Sunday morning. Hermione was perusing huge, ancient, dusty tomes, and Ginny herself was browsing the magazines at the front of the shop. Draco Malfoy had walked in, and – after scanning the shop and spotting her – gave her a small, humoured smile. Ginny had dived into a Quidditch magazine, and when Hermione found her fifteen minutes later, Malfoy had vanished.

The next lie Ginny told was a month later, when Harry told her that he felt he needed space to discover who he was again. He would be coming back, he said, and she wasn’t to worry, but he would be gone for a while. Ginny had replied that she loved him and would wait for him. She wondered if he could read the lie in her voice.

Harry, it seemed, had taken an assignment in Portugal. He would be gone for six months. These things she learned from Ron the next day. She cursed Harry in her head for continuing to treat her like a child and telling her nothing. Outwardly, she rolled her eyes and threw herself into her training.

Her third smile was at her first game. She spent the whole match on the bench – that was expected; she was only a junior recruit. However, she was watching the play with Omnioculars. In the background, behind a scuffle where the Quaffle was lost, she spotted Draco Malfoy. He was avidly following the action, although he didn’t seem to be sporting the colours of either team. She watched him for a few moments longer, and the play moved. Draco Malfoy looked down at the bench and gave her a self-satisfied grin. He’d caught her watching him. She snatched her gaze back to the play, her cheeks growing hot. Her mind, however, kept flashing back to his grin. It took her a whole afternoon of training to work the nerves out of her system.

A few weeks later, he turned up outside her home ground after training one evening. He casually walked over to her, a self-conscious smile on his face.

“Ginny Weasley,” he greeted her.

“Draco Malfoy,” she returned.

“Care to go out for some food?”

She gave the offer more than a passing thought. Go to the pub with Ron and Hermione? Or have a proper dinner with Malfoy?

“Sure,” she decided. “But you’re paying. Lead on,” she said, taking the arm he offered.

He had quite the repertoire of smiles, it turned out. Each time she looked at him, it changed slightly. And each one of those smiles, she knew, existed solely for her.

“So,” she said, finishing a mouthful of risotto and turning the conversation from the polite chit-chat they had been exchanging. “What brings you to my door, so to speak? Run out of other girls to chase?”

He gave her an indulgent smile. “Just a smile,” he replied.

“That time in the pub?” she asked. “That was more a grimace than a smile, you know.”

“No, before that,” he said, his eyes sparkling with humour.

She shook her head. “I don’t remember.”

“Of course not. You were at a Ministry function, hanging on Potter’s arm. He was beaming out at everyone, and you were… well, not miserable, I suppose, but definitely not very happy.”

Ginny remembered the event – a celebration as the final Death Eaters had been sentenced. “Oh, no, I was quite miserable. That was the closest to pleasant I looked all night.”

Malfoy grinned, agreeing with her but tactfully not saying anything. “He turned to ask you something, and you smiled at him. Sweet Merlin, that smile; it was colder than the Arctic – I could feel it all the way across the room. And he barely noticed! He turned away to bask in the glory he was getting from every other person in the room. But I saw you seething. So,” he concluded, waving a fork, “I decided to give you a few smiles of your own. That one smile made my whole night, after all.”

“If I’d known that Harry asking if we could stay another three hours had brought someone so much joy, I probably would have continued to give them to him. Or,” she mused, “I would have smiled at you instead.”

“Well,” he said. “Plenty of time for those smiles now.”

And she smiled at him, a warm, genuine smile, just for Draco Malfoy.

She wouldn’t wait for Harry Potter.

The next small lie she told was to Hermione. She barged up to Ginny during her lunch hour, waving the Daily Prophet at her, accusation written all over her face.

“Gods, Hermione, I score a free feed out of a guy and you act like it’s Voldemort I’m dining with?”

“Well, we know your score on that one,” Hermione had replied nastily.

Ginny went cold. “Get out, before I slap you.”

“Did it mean anything?”

“No. Piss off.”

And Hermione, reassured, pissed off.

Her mother, however, had not been either so rude, nor so easily deceived.

“What about Harry?” she asked.

“Harry,” Ginny said, setting the table, “wants an idea, not a person. Harry doesn’t want discussion, debate, cooperation. Harry wouldn’t even know another point of view if it came up and slapped him in the face. I refuse to be his trophy wife.”

Molly got the point. “Make sure you let him know that before he gets his hopes up.”

And here, Ginny lied once more. “Of course,” she told her mother.

But, she knew she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Because Harry couldn’t stand competition. He would tear apart the wizarding world to get her back, rest at nothing. Worse, she knew this wasn’t because she was so wonderful: no, it would be because he couldn’t lose. Most especially not to Draco Malfoy.

Dinner with Draco became a regular event. He had an apartment to himself, and while he was no cook, he was quite happy for Ginny to take over the room. She happily claimed the kitchen.

“Ginny, where’s the salt?”

“Top left cupboard, right at the front.”

“Woman, you know my kitchen better than I do.”

“Well, that’s because you never use it.”

“I’m no good in the kitchen.”

“That’s also because you never use it.”

“Smartarse.”

“At least I can cook.”

She could never say exactly why she kept building the friendship. Her team mates giggled over his blond hair, his aristocratic face and his vast wealth. But, for Ginny, it wasn’t about any of those things. Perhaps it was the way he always looked at her when she was talking. He laughed at her jokes. He smiled only for her. And maybe it was because, around him, she felt no need to pretend to be wonderful, perfect, happy all the time. He was only Malfoy, after all, and if she wanted to be opinionated and stubborn then she damn well would be. Perhaps it was that he liked it when she yelled, when she got worked up, when they argued about Quidditch, about income, about politics, about music, about art…

She completely missed the day Harry arrived back in the country. She went down to the little pub to see Hermione and Ron and was completely shocked to see Harry sitting with them. They were absorbed, listening to Harry’s tales. Ginny gathered up her courage and went over. The smile he gave her told her that he had come back to claim her.

When Hermione and Ron excused themselves, Harry turned to her. “I’ve really missed you, Ginny.”

Gods, she thought. But he forged on before she could say anything.

“I missed you so much that I realised that there was no way I can live without you. So… will you marry me?”

And, sweet Circe, yes, there was the ring in his hand. She stared at him in shocked silence. Perhaps he realised that her silence was not wonder but horror.

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry. I… Over the time you were gone, I came to realise that there’s so much to do and see… And I’m not ready to settle down yet. I’m really not.”

“Is there someone else?”

Yes. “No.”

He put the ring away. He appeared crestfallen, but not beaten. “Well, I said I’d wait for you, and I meant it. So, Ginny Weasley, I’m waiting for you.”

Gods, just go away! “Thanks for being so understanding, Harry.”

He nodded.

She left.

Draco had been unimpressed.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“What? That I come here and cook for you?”

Draco frowned at her. Merlin, his smiles were so much better. “No, that you’re never going to settle down with him.”

Ginny snorted. “Then he never would have believed my line about there being no one else.”

“Why am I not allowed to exist?”

Ginny gave him a look. “Because he’ll never let himself lose me to someone else. Especially not to you.”

Draco opened his mouth to speak. Then he closed it again. “You’re right,” he said. Then he turned away from her, took the dishes into the kitchen and started running the water. Ginny frowned and followed him.

“I want you to know, Draco, that I’m never going back to him.”

He kept cleaning dishes.

“To him, I’m a trophy. I don’t want to be a trophy. I want to be a person.”

He kept cleaning dishes.

“Gods, Draco, what do you want?”

“You don’t know?” He replied quietly.

She stood still. He turned to face her.

“Me,” she said. “You want me.”

And he stepped forward and kissed her. He had wet hands and he stuck them in her hair and she didn’t care. She kissed him like her life depended on it, like she was starving, like she was drowning. Like there were seconds left to this existence and she couldn’t care less about consequences.

Because there are always consequences. Eventually they parted. Draco stroked her cheek and said, “I don’t want to see you again until he’s gone from your life.”

That was something of a wet blanket. “What?”

“I won’t compete with him, Ginny,” he said. “I want you to come to me because of me, not because I’m not him. Gods, Ginny, he’s always beaten me at everything. I can’t compete with him over you. This has to be your decision.” He stroked her cheek again.

But she knew that he had her heart, in that very moment. To him, she wasn’t a prize in a pissing contest with Harry. She was a person, and he liked her too much to see her as anything less.

“Ok,” she said, kissing him lightly.

And he let her go.

Ginny waited for the right time to tell Harry. But Harry seemed to be going out of his way to avoid being alone with her. At the pub, he always left first. When he visited the Burrow, he was always speaking with someone else.

Ginny decided to enlist some help.

“Hermione…”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

“Whatever you’re about to ask me, the answer’s no.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s to do with Harry, and I don’t want to get involved.”

“Oh.”

Ron had given much the same answer.

“Mum, I just can’t…”

“Don’t come running to me, Ginny.”

“What?”

“I told you not to let him get his hopes up. Now, you deal with what’s happened.”

Bugger.

So she went to the girls on her team.

“Oh, Harry Potter?”

“What do you want us to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, convince him to fall in love with you or something.”

The girls frowned. One of them handed over a newspaper. The headlining article: “Potter proclaims undying love.” To her. Bugger. Merlin’s penis hair. Now what was she supposed to do?

One of the girls dared to whisper, “bet she’s tossing him over for Malfoy.”

Year old onions stuffed in that girl’s locker. The fleas of a million stray cats in her underwear.

Ginny eventually surrendered to the idea that ending things with Harry was going to hurt. And tarnish her reputation.

Well, bugger them all.

At the pub, Hermione and Ron were nattering away with Harry. Ginny walked over.

“Harry, I’d like a word.”

He looked at her with a blank expression. Shit. Who’d told him about Malfoy? Which paper had printed something? “I don’t have any secrets from Hermione and Ron,” he said.

She shrugged. “Fine. Harry, don’t bother waiting for me. I’m not coming back to you.”

“Because you’ve found someone else?” he demanded.

“Shit, Harry. It wouldn’t matter if there was someone else or not. I’m not going to come back to you because of the way you treat me. You treat me like a prize, like an object. I want someone who treats me like a person. I want someone who values my opinion. Someone who loves me for who I truly am, instead of as an abstract concept slapped on top of a pair of legs. I truly wish you could see how miserable you made me, but I doubt you will ever see it. You’ll be too busy pretending that someone else turned me against you, when the truth is, you did it all by yourself. Well, bugger you, Harry. I don’t need you to save me. I don’t need you to parade me around to all your Ministry friends. I don’t need to be blindingly unhappy anymore.” By now, the entire pub was silent and listening. Harry had turned bright red. Hermione and Ron were both shocked into pale silence. “Goodbye, Harry. Have a nice life.”

And she left.

Somehow, her mum heard before she got home.

“Ginny, darling… couldn’t you have been a bit nicer? Now I’ll have to choose who to invite for dinner…” But there was a sparkle in her mum’s eye. “By the way… who did you say your mystery man was?”

“I didn’t,” Ginny said, and went to her sleepless bed.

The papers the next day were lurid. Ginny wondered if Draco had paid them, because most of the larger presses had taken her side. Of course, the papers had no concrete leads as to who her mystery man was, so perhaps that swayed them… Perhaps she was simply too cynical.

Her team mates were not as restrained as the papers.

“Ooh, gave him the flick for a blond…”

“Must be better in bed.”

“Well, he’s certainly got better looks.”

Ginny took her annoyance out on the Quaffle. The coach commended her on an excellent training session.

She just wanted to leave.

Draco was waiting for her after training finished. His smile was restrained but warm.

“Took you long enough,” he commented.

She elbowed him. “You try breaking up with the saviour of the Wizarding world.”

“Oh, I couldn’t have done it with as much flair as you did,” he complimented her airily. She took his arm as they began to walk.

“Did you pay the papers?”

“Would I do that?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I didn’t. Father wouldn’t let me.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“He wanted an accurate picture of feeling toward Potter at the moment. You’ve given his image quite a dent,” he complimented her.

“Thank you. I wouldn’t have done quite so well if he hadn’t forced me to.”

Draco wore a smug grin. She narrowed her eyes.

“You sent him a paper?”

“Would I do that?”

“Yes, you would.”

“Well, there you go.”

“Bastard.”

“Hey, watch your elbows.”

“You deserve worse than elbows.”

“Is that a promise? Think of the publicity… ‘Malfoy, battered by Potter’s ex…’”

She giggled. It ruined her anger, but she was so relieved that it was done that she didn’t mind. Besides, she’d have plenty of time in the future to get back at him.

“So… your parents know?”

He shrugged self-consciously. “Yes. I don’t have a lot of places to go for advice.”

She smiled. “Would you like to come to the Burrow for dinner?”

“What, now?”

“Why not?”

“Because… your parents aren’t expecting us?”

She gave him an evil smile. “Even better,” she said.

He shrugged with one shoulder. “Ok.”

Molly opened the door and nearly fainted.

Arthur flapped his mouth a few times, then managed, “Well, hello… You must be the man who’s made my little girl so happy. Let me shake your hand. Arthur, please call me Arthur…” He nudged Molly as he moved to shake Draco’s hand.

“Draco,” he introduced himself. “And I hope that I’ve made her as happy as she makes me.” He gave her a smile that, for all that her parents witnessed it, was only for her.

“Draco,” Molly said. “You’re the image of your father.” Draco winced, braced himself for the worst. “Welcome to the family,” Molly continued, bustling forward to hug him. Ginny smiled at the wonder on Draco’s face as her mother accepted him. “Are you both here for dinner? Yes? Good. Now, Draco,” and Molly rounded on him, “If you ever break our daughter’s heart, we will stop at nothing to destroy you, do you understand?”

“Why would I break her heart?” Draco asked quietly. “She chose me.”

And Ginny missed the look that passed between Arthur and Molly as she was caught in the intensity of Draco’s gaze.

Somehow, things turned serious overnight. They went from weekly dinners to nightly dinners, and soon Draco was a regular fixture at the Burrow. And he began talking about her meeting his parents.

“They’re jealous that your parents have met me, but they’ve not met you.”

So she gave in. The night before they were to go for dinner, she dreamed of Tom. Chicken feathers glued to her hands and robe with blood. Meeting Draco’s parents would not be easy.

Draco was wonderful, of course. He came to the Burrow to pick her up, held her hand and told her she looked wonderful.

“Why do you keep wiping your hands?” he asked curiously.

“Chicken blood,” she muttered.

“What?” he asked. But he had gone pale.

“My first year. The Chamber of Secrets. Your dad did that to me. I can’t get the feeling of chicken blood off my hands.” She wiped her hands again, then buried her face in Draco’s shoulder.

“Merlin,” he said into her hair. “I’m so sorry, Ginny. I’m so sorry.”

So when Narcissa and Lucius met them in the entrance hall, her eyes were red and there were dark stains on the shoulder of Draco’s silk shirt.

“Ginevra,” Narcissa greeted her, taking her hand and kissing her cheek. The older woman tactfully ignored any evidence that Ginny had been crying. “It is so good to finally meet you.” Ginny smiled, turned to smile back at Draco and caught the tail end of dark look being exchanged between father and son.

“Ginevra,” Lucius greeted her, kissing her cheek as well. She didn’t flinch, but she only caught herself at the last moment. “I believe my son has indicated that we should first clear the air.” Draco squeezed her hand. “There has been bad blood between our families…”

“Chicken blood,” Ginny muttered for the second time that evening.

“Sorry?” Lucius stopped. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said,” Ginny spoke up, heat gathering in her cheeks, “chicken blood. That was all over my hand, my robes, the walls… And knowing I’d done something, but not knowing what. You fed me to your Dark Lord. That’s some bad blood, I’d say.”

Lucius at least had the good grace to look abashed. “In my defence, I truly did not know the power of the object I placed in your basket that day, Ginevra. However, that is no excuse for the terrible consequences of that action. I truly am sorry. I know you will not likely believe me, but I was horrified to hear the way the object had taken possession of you…”

“I will take credit for some of his remorse,” Narcissa interjected, taking her husband’s arm. “I do remember reminding him – what if someone had done that to our son?”

“Yes, my dear,” Lucius gave his wife a personal, genuine smile. “Numerous times. Please accept our apologies, Ginevra. Because we are longing to make your acquaintance.”

“And we know that otherwise you’ll put Draco in a terrible position. And we love him too much to see him suffer because of us.”

“Too much of that already,” Lucius muttered under his breath.

Ginny looked between them. “I can’t promise it will be easy,” she said slowly, “but I will do my best to put our past behind us. For the sake of the family.” She felt Draco squeeze her hand, and saw the genuine gratitude in his expression. Narcissa welled up tears, and Lucius’ shoulders sagged momentarily in relief.

“Dinner would have been so awkward otherwise,” Narcissa said, smiling and dabbing her eyes. “But, shall we proceed?” And she led them through a gloriously decorated hallway, down to a large – but not overlarge – dining room.

The food was exquisite; the conversation, also, much to Ginny’s surprise. In fact, by the time Draco escorted her home, she had decided that she quite liked Draco’s parents, despite all their history.

“Thank you,” Draco said as he kissed her forehead.

“For what?”

“For accepting my family,” he said, meeting her eyes.

“You accepted my family,” she said, squeezing his hands. “And your parents seem like decent people, history aside.”

He smiled, all the warmth of his heart showing through. “They are. I’m glad you could see it. They like you,” he confided. “Ginny…” he pulled back a little. “I…”

Ginny shushed him with a kiss. “Draco, are you going to ask me to marry you?”

He flushed a little, raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, normally you’re supposed to let me ask.”

Ginny gave him a wicked grin, fished out a box from her pocket. “Too bad. Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?” She asked, flashing the ring at him. He looked shocked for about two seconds before he smiled.

“I’d love to, Ginevra.” He slipped the ring on. “By the way… Ginevra Weasley, will you marry me?” He opened his own ring box to show her the ring he’d picked out.

“I’d love to, Draco,” she replied, silly smile on her face and his ring on her finger.

And, while it would be nice to say that they lived happily ever after, unfortunately life is not so simple. There were many arguments, disagreements and troubles for Draco and Ginny; however, these were far outweighed by the love, joy and harmony they shared. So, wave farewell to our lovers and wish them well. Though, staring into each other’s eyes the way they are, I doubt they will even see us as we leave them to their life together.