They stood before the Druid in the middle of the sacred circle.

Draco had hardly slept the night before, wondering if she would show, if she would go through with the marriage in the end. By turns, he convinced himself that of course she would, she would do whatever it took to safeguard her eldest brother’s life. Then, he would suddenly remember how miserably he’d treated her and her friends at school all those years ago, and he’d experience a sudden hitch in his confidence….

But she was here now, and wearing a soft, blue robe that fitted to her curves nicely and revealed that she wasn’t, after all, shaped like her mother. Her hair fell in gold-red ringlets around her shoulders and she carried a single white calla lily. He was relieved to see that she had taken some trouble with her appearance and that she could summon at least a modicum of good taste when the situation warranted it. Beyond the circle, her parents hovered, needing to be comforted, adding the weight of their anxiety to everything else she had to think about right now. Draco despised their selfishness, and ignored them.

The Druid handed him the ring. She did not offer him her hand, so Draco reached out and took it. Her fingertips were icy cold, and he could actually feel them trembling. He held the ring over the tip of her fourth finger. She did not look at him, but gazed steadfastly at the silver circlet in his fingers.

"You are Earth," he recited automatically. Nothing. He moved the ring to the tip of her middle finger. "Wind," he said.

Every person was born bound to one of the four Elements, but these days, most people didn't bother to search out their Elemental roots. It was considered an outmoded magic, and the trend now was to look to tarot and Divination: to look to the future to discover one's destiny, instead of the past. One of the few ways to discover one's Element was like this, in the nearly obsolete Ceremony of the Rings. It was said that the Rings could tell a man more about himself than any Seer ever could, and the Rings never lied. Since his parents had told him of the Curse when he was nine years old, Draco had known he would be married in this way. He had been mildly curious about his Elemental Identity; today, he would find out what it was. Not that it would make any difference in his life. He was what he was. Knowing it wouldn't change anything. He moved the ring to Ginny’s first finger.

"Water." The ring did nothing. She had small hands, cool hands, and the slim fingers were tipped with tidy, oval, unpainted nails.

He moved the ring over the tip of her thumb. "Fire." The ring pulled itself from his fingers and settled itself around the base of Ginny’s thumb, adjusting itself to the size of her finger. For one moment it flashed with an intense, white glow before subsiding to its normal dull silver.

Draco noted this with interest. So…her ring was still white. Potter, apparently, hadn't gone all that far with her then, back in the days when they'd been an item. He felt a strange rush of satisfaction at this. This woman was his wife now--or she would be, in another minute--and Potter hadn't had her yet. Not in that way. Not, he told himself with a small shudder, that he wanted her. He only wondered, with some amusement, whom she'd been saving herself for. He made himself dismiss the thought. It mattered nothing to him. It was probably still Potter. Well, a year and a day from now he’d be welcome to her, and her ring--he could guarantee it--would still be white for him. But they would both always know that he, Draco, had married her first.

Ginny took his ring from the Druid and reached for his right hand. She held the ring over his fourth finger. Draco watched, curious. Her fingers still shook but her voice, when she spoke, did not.

"You are Earth." She waited a fraction of a second, then moved the ring to his third finger.

"Wind." The ring pulled itself from Ginny’s grasp and constricted around his middle finger, glowing a dull blue for just a moment. He was Wind then. He made a mental note to look that one up and see what it meant.

The Druid turned to a flat rock beside him, where four chalices stood waiting. He selected a small, gold one and handed it to Ginny. A larger, silver one, he handed to Draco. He left the crystal chalice and the wooden one where they stood, and turned to face them again.

"Drink," he intoned. "Take into yourselves each the essence of the other, and mingle body, soul and spirit."

He made a motion, and Draco lifted the Wind Chalice to Ginny. She drank from it, and her eyes flared wide with sudden surprise. As though someone had struck her, she staggered backward a step, and might have fallen if the Druid had not steadied her.

When she had recovered herself the Druid motioned toward her, and she lifted the Fire Chalice to Draco's mouth. It was sweet wine, and as he swallowed it Draco felt a flash of something white hot flare through him, from his mouth to his fingertips. The force of it took his breath away: the element of Fire.

"You may kiss your bride," the Druid was saying.

Draco saw the alarm etched on Ginny’s pale, freckled face. He let his eyes rake insolently over her slender body before turning deliberately away. "I think we’ll give it a miss."

The Druid was clearly puzzled, but he recovered himself and went on. "I declare that this day you are bound together by invisible cords in the visible union of marriage. May you live together in peace and prosperity, and may friendship and love abound to you both through the comfort of one another." He bowed respectfully and backed away from them.

Outside the circle, Molly and Arthur Weasley hesitated a moment, then came forward. Draco stepped back to the edge of the ring and crossed his arms, waiting for them to say their good-byes. Molly embraced her daughter, crushing the calla lily between them and Draco noticed that Ginny stood stiffly while her mother shook with sobs and her tears soaked the shoulder of the blue wedding robes. When she pulled away, she tried to cup Ginny’s face in her hands, but Ginny turned away from her.

"Don’t Mum. There’s no need; it’s not forever." Her face was pallid, but stony and Draco felt a flash of something like approval. She was doing what she had to do, and meeting it head-on without making room for sloppy sentiment or self-pity.

Arthur, too, hugged and kissed his daughter, though more quietly, and turned to give Draco a hard stare. Draco met his gaze without flinching, and when at last, Arthur nodded gravely at him, Draco nodded back. Arthur turned, and taking his wife’s elbow, made his way to the Muggle car park where the Apparition Port was.

He watched his new wife follow her parents with her eyes as they walked away, and when they were out of sight, he came over to her again. They stood alone in the circle, not touching.

"What just happened?" she asked him.

"I think we were just married."

"Tuh!" She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. "I meant that…that wind thing that blew through me."

"Well, a bit of our elements are supposed to go into each other, aren't they? I imagine that's what it was."

"Oh. So did you…what did it feel like, to you?" She flushed and looked away, as though the question embarrassed her.

It had felt like…like a forge. Like the kind of intense, frightening heat a silversmith used to melt down metal, and to purify it before molding it into an entirely different shape. But he couldn't very well say that to her, so he only told her brusquely, "It felt like fire, of course."

"The wine was so bitter." She touched her lips and shuddered, and Draco looked sharply at her. The wine he had drunk from her chalice had been sweet. But she was asking, "So, what do we do now?"

"Well," he adopted the lazy drawl that had always kept him so safe, so removed when he was uncomfortable, "our first order of business is to get you some new robes."

Immediately, she bristled. "I may not have as much money as you, Malfoy, but I’m not putting up with any of your poverty jokes. My robes are perfectly good enough--"

He interrupted her. "I’m only saying, Weasley,--if you’ll shut it long enough for me to finish a thought--that the robes you have aren’t going to be nearly warm enough for where you’re going to be living. The Highlands," he elaborated, at her perplexed look. "Remember? It’s a good deal colder there than it is in London." Ginny still looked wary.

"I have an excellent tailor in Edinburgh," he went on. "I’m only suggesting we stop there, before we go to Four Winds, and get you outfitted properly. Won’t do either of us any good to have you freezing to death before the year is out."

"It’s nearly five o’clock. Won’t his shop be closing soon?"

"He’s expecting us." He hoped she was not going to be tiresome and argue with every little thing he said.

Reluctantly, she said, "I suppose it makes sense."

He didn’t bother with more than a cursory nod. He really hadn't expected anything but her absolute acquiescence. "Let’s go." Silently, she followed him the short distance to the Apparition Port in the Muggle car park. Her parents had long gone. "Let’s get on with it, shall we?" He picked up her hand. She tried to jerk it away.

"Don’t flatter yourself that I’m taking liberties with you, Weasley," he said coolly. "It’s just that you don’t know where we’re going."

She stopped tugging. "Oh."

He pulled out his wand and gave it a twist. "Right. We’re off, then. Princes and Edward, Edinburgh."

He closed his eyes and felt the momentary, weightless sensation that was Apparition, then opened them and found that they were standing in the plain, square Apparition Port on the corner of Princes and Edward Streets, in Edinburgh.

"This way," he said, dropping her hand.

He led her through a side street or two until they came to a doorway with a plain wooden board nailed to it. On the board were burned the words, ‘No Trespassing’. Draco tapped the sign once with his wand and ‘No Trespassing’ was replaced with the words ‘Natty Toggs; Designs for Discriminating Wizards’ in an ornate, gold script.

An extremely tall, thin man spied them as they stepped into the shop.

"Malfoy!" he cried, seizing Draco’s hand and pumping it with great energy. "What a treat to see you here! First rate!" The man turned, beaming, to Ginny, his curly hair, severely in need of a cut, bobbing around his large spectacles.

"And who is this lovely? No wait, don’t tell me--she’s a cousin! No? Not a sister, because you don’t have a sister…A business partner then?"

Draco shook his head, the ghost of a wry smile playing about his lips. "This is my new wife, Natty. Meet Ms Ginny Weasley."

"It never is!" Natty cried. "You’ve gone and taken the plunge then, eh? Well she’s a singular beauty, she is. Well done, Malfoy!" He swung a lethal-looking pair of shears in a wild swoop as he made a ridiculously low bow. Then he seized Ginny’s hand and began to kiss it, with little, smacking kisses, all the way up her arm. When he had passed her elbow, Draco cleared his throat.

"That will do, Toggs. Don’t forget, she’s my wife." Ginny flushed at the insinuation.

"Then onto business, what?" Natty said cheerfully, dropping her hand. "You didn’t come in here just to show off your new bride, I’ll wager, though if you had it wouldn’t have been a waste of either of our time. How may I be of service to you this evening?"

Draco looked at Ginny but she seemed to have lost her powers of speech. "Ms Weasley is going to need some winter robes," he told the tailor.

"Excellent! Excellent!" Natty cried, as though his fondest wish in life was to supply Ms

Weasley with warm clothing.

"Mrs Selvedge!" he shouted, and at once a plump, middle-aged witch appeared from the back room. She wore a tape measure round her neck and when she saw Draco her face lit up with delight.

"Mr Malfoy!" she exclaimed warmly. "You’re too much a stranger around here! It’s been ages since we’ve seen you; we were beginning to worry you’d taken your business somewhere else. And who is this?" She turned to his new wife and they went through the introductions again before the kindly woman took Ginny by the hand and pulled her into the back room to be measured.

"Now," said Natty, rubbing his hands together with the air of a salesman who knows his customer only buys the very best. "What kind of robes did you have in mind for her?"

An hour and a half later they left the shop, Ginny wearing one of the new, heavy, travelling robes over her blue wedding robe, and looking distinctly exhausted. Toggs had promised to send the rest of the clothes on to Four Winds tomorrow.

"Are you hungry?" he asked her, as they walked back to the Apparition Port.

She shook her head. "Just tired."

"Home then," he said. They stepped into the Port and he picked up her hand again. This time she did not try to pull away.

He pulled out his wand and gave it a twist. "Four Winds," he said, and closed his eyes.