The screams hung in the air, loud and demanding, filtering out of the deceptively calm blue of the nursery. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing for the wails to dissolve, but after a few seconds let out a frustrated screech of her own and violently gathered her fiery hair into a knot as she strode into the room.

Two toddlers had pulled themselves up against their prison bars, rattling them away with their tiny fists as they howled. Wringing her hands, Ginny stepped over scattered toys and blankets to the first crib and scooped the black-haired baby from his cage, holding him to her chest.

“Sh, Albus, sh,” she soothed, rocking from foot to foot as she made her way to the second crib.

“Mummy, mummy,” James whimpered, grabbing at the air as his mother drew closer to his prison.

“I’m here,” she whispered, rubbing Albus’s back as he snuggled closer into her shoulder. She handed James a fallen toy, and he settled back down into his crib to amuse himself.

Within minutes, her one-year-old had fallen asleep again, and Ginny set Albus back inside his crib. James was a little heavy-eyed himself, and Ginny lowered herself into the rocking chair and pretended to read until he too had fallen victim to sleep.

Sighing somewhat happily to herself, Ginny rose from the chair and began to tiptoe out of the room. She had almost made it to the door when a loud crack sounded in the hallway and shook the children from their slumber.

Ginny ripped the door open and slammed it behind her, stomping out into the corridor to find her husband dusting off his Auror robes and straightening his crooked glasses, a placid smile on his face.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she bellowed over the cries of her children. She felt the overwhelming urge to hit something – or someone – and smacked her hand into the wall beside her.

Harry looked at her with startled green eyes. “Gin, I didn’t think-”

“That’s right! You didn’t think!” she screeched, forcefully slamming her index finger into his chest. “I haven’t slept for thirty two hours! It’s been one or the other, crying or hungry or needing to be changed. You’re never around, or when you are, you’re talking about how we should have another one! You’re always working, or out of town, or off getting pissed with Ron! I didn’t sign up for that, and I’ve – I’ve had it!”

Harry looked quite alarmed now, backing against the wall as she berated him. “What are you saying?”

She faltered slightly at his nervous tone. “I…I need a break, Harry. I need to go away for a little while. You need to take care of your own children occasionally. Do you even know how to do that?”

He looked quite horrified at the prospect and rubbed his forehead tiredly, as if the very idea of caring for his sons exhausted him. “How long will you be gone?”

Ginny sighed, considering. “About a month, I think.”

“Where will you go?”

“Paris,” she replied, as if she had known all along. “I’ve always wanted to go to Paris.”

The hotel Harry insisted upon putting her up in was almost too nice for Ginny’s taste. Halfway through unpacking her suitcases and putting away her belongings, Ginny grew bored and grabbed one of the travel books off the bureau, flipping idly through its pages.

She quickly located the nearest wizarding market, grabbed her purse and coat, and left her half-unpacked suitcases for later. She found the place easily enough, and spent the first part of the afternoon wandering down its cobblestone streets, her nose in her traveler’s guide, determined not to think about Harry.

But what an arse. God, just once, couldn’t he come home for dinner? Or kiss me? Or actually pay attention when I talk to him. No, no. Stop. You’re not thinking about him.

As the pleasant autumn afternoon began to fade into evening, Ginny began directing her meandering toward the restaurants, referencing her book as she passed by more shops. As she turned the corner, she ran headlong into something comfortably warm and solid.

She stumbled backwards and teetered in her boots. “Pardon,” she gasped, the French rolling effortlessly off her tongue. The stranger’s hands grasped her arms, steadying her.

“Weasley?” the stranger asked curiously. Ginny looked up, startled. There was something oddly familiar about that voice.

Gray eyes looked down at her, taking in her face as if trying to decide whether they knew her or not. They were slightly crinkled at the edges and lit up as he smiled in recognition.

“Ginny Weasley. Well, this is a surprise,” he said.

“Malfoy?” she asked bewilderedly, taking a step back to get a better look at him. His pale blond hair was slightly shaggy and unkempt, very different to how it had been in their school days, but it suited his face. His eyes, once cold and malicious were now softer and slightly warm. But it was his smile that made her blink, for without that trademark scowl he looked the tiniest bit gorgeous.

“It’s Draco,” he corrected graciously. “You’ve grown since I saw you last,” he added somewhat impishly.

“I assume you don’t mean up when you say grown,” she replied in a mischievous tone of her own. But at his slightly roguish smile she caught herself. “You look well.”

He sobered at her changed demeanor and nodded. “I am. And yourself?”

“Very well,” Ginny replied stiffly. “What are you doing in Paris?”

“I live here now. I’ve had enough of England to last me a lifetime. Paris has treated me well in the last seven years. But what are you doing here?”

“Oh, just…on holiday, I guess,” she muttered, lifting up her book.

“Those things don’t know what they’re talking about,” he said, reaching for her book and examining the back. “I know a nice place that you would never find in a travel guide. Come on, I’ll take you,” he added, tossing her book into the nearest flower pot with a grin.

“Well, I…” Ginny hesitated, staring after her book.

“It’s really no problem. It’s not often I can speak English with someone who doesn’t butcher the language.” He laughed, motioning for her to follow.

“Well…” She fidgeted with a button on her coat. Go out to dinner with Draco Malfoy?

“Weasley, really. Things have changed since we were in school. In more ways than one,” he added, raising a pale eyebrow.

“Alright, then,” Ginny conceded, falling into step beside him.

The restaurant turned out to be a café-like restaurant down the road, not what she’d imagined Malfoy picking out. He spoke to the waiters with familiarity and didn’t need a menu, making suggestions to her as she pored over her own.

It was strangely easy to hold a conversation with him, ranging from Quidditch to books to interests they’d acquired since Hogwarts. Much as she tried to avoid it, the topic eventually switched over to marriage and children.

“Don’t look so apprehensive,” he laughed as she squirmed when he brought up Harry. “I’d assumed you were married.” He chuckled again she let out a relieved sigh, furiously trying to bite back a comment about how she almost wished it were otherwise. “Do you have any children?”

“Two,” she sighed again, taking another sip of her drink. “Boys. One and two years old.”

“That’s quite a handful you have there,” Draco replied, downing his own scotch.

Ginny nodded, adjusting the hem of her skirt clumsily. “It’s why I’m on holiday.” She giggled a little too loudly.

Draco smiled sympathetically.

“What about you? Married with children?”

His bright eyes darkened to a stormy gray that she hadn’t seen since his seventh year. He motioned for another scotch and clinked the ice in his glass. “I was married for a very short time about a year ago. Cecelia left me and took our son back to England. As far as I know, she and the gardener are very happy.”

“Oh, Draco,” Ginny sighed, tears filling her eyes. He looked so very unhappy and bitter about the whole thing. He obviously missed her. And to be kept away from his son… “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s in the past,” he responded gruffly. “Serves me right for jumping into something like marriage.”

Ginny gave him a watery smile. She gazed around the restaurant, which was filling up with new, late night guests. Some already looked a little tipsy, wobbling in their three inch heels and gripping the arms of their escorts tightly, but visibly several years older than herself. Trying to think of the last time she had gone out at night, Ginny felt her shoulders sag. She had been like that not so long ago.

“But the food here is great, isn’t it?” Draco broke in with a much cheerier voice. “I’ve been eating here for nearly three years.”

“It’s fantastic,” Ginny breathed, staring as a single tear slipped from his eye. He ignored it, letting it fall into his glass of scotch.

He put money down on the table and the two of them left, walking slowly along the softly lit street beneath the stars. Soft music floated down from one of the open windows above the shops, and as it flowed through her body and the night, Ginny began to feel herself floating as well.

“I’m glad you came,” he said suddenly as they were nearing the entrance to Muggle Paris.

“So am I,” she whispered.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and looked up at the stars and then back down at her. Driven by a sudden, drunken impulse, Ginny stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

It was almost as if he’d been waiting for it. His arms encircled her, his fingers threaded through her hair and then cupped her face. He kissed her both tenderly and hungrily, drinking her in and making her knees shaky beneath her. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced, making her tremble with desire. Never had she felt so wanted, so needed in her entire life. She moaned against him.

“Where do you live?” she whispered, deliriously happy and not thinking straight.

“A few blocks from here,” he answered, capturing her lips in another heated kiss.

“Take me,” she breathed.

They Apparated, still wrapped up in each other. They fell with a crash as they arrived at his flat, fumbling with each other’s clothes while still kissing feverishly. His skin was deliciously hot against hers as they stumbled into his bedroom, gasping and aching for each other.

The stars outside twinkled against the black velvet of the night sky while the cool breeze swept fallen leaves into the crisp air. It was on such an autumn night that Ginny found herself, on her first time in Paris, in Draco Malfoy’s bed.

She awoke to the sound of chirping birds. Ginny opened both eyes, with what felt like tremendous effort, to see a small, light-filled room. The windows that lined the wall looked over a golden brown courtyard and hundreds of singing birds. Ginny sat up, clutching the sheet to her body and stared out across the beautiful sight.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted into the room and Ginny sniffed the air hopefully, swinging her feet out of bed and standing up, wrapping the dark green sheet around her.

She wandered down the hall, rubbing her eyes sleepily with her free hand, and stumbled into the kitchen. Draco was wearing gray pajama bottoms, bent over something sizzling in the frying pan.

“There she is,” he said, grinning. “A vision in green. Coffee?” He motioned at the steaming mug on the table.

“Bless you,” she replied, reaching blearily for the mug.

He smiled again, peering at her over his shoulder. Within minutes, he had two plates of bacon and eggs placed before them on the table.

“So…” he started, chewing on his eggs thoughtfully.

“So…” Ginny nodded, taking a bite of eggs herself so that she wouldn’t have to say anything. What they had done was wrong. So incredibly, ridiculously wrong. It was probably the most horrendous thing she had ever done in her life.

And she didn’t even care.

As she struggled to find the guilt or regret she expected to find eating away at her heart, Ginny realized it wasn’t there at all. She didn’t regret the previous evening at all. What was wrong with her?

He smiled at her, and she felt a bit of her consciousness melt at the sight. That’s why. He’s just so damn perfect. She felt very much like she was sixteen again, a prospect that both thrilled and terrified her.

“So…” he said again, humor laced in his voice.

“So what do you want to do today?” Ginny asked, smashing her eggs with her fork.

He started, a surprised look on his face. “I could show you around Paris,” he answered. “The real Paris. Not what you read in books.”

Ginny took a drink of coffee to hide a smile. “I’d like that.”

He showed her everything. What they didn’t get to the first day, after flying kites and riding boats and feeding swans, they did the next day, and the next. He took her to shows and cafés. They spent whole afternoons under trees in the park, reading from books. They walked along the river and had a man paint their portrait. One afternoon, because Ginny insisted, they went to the top of the Eiffel tower with the American Muggle tourists.

The sun rose early the week after she had arrived, falling across Draco’s bed, waking Ginny and drenching her in its golden glow. She pulled on the soft green dress they had bought together, just to see him smile when she adorned herself with the Slytherin color.

He held her hand as they strolled down a leaf scattered avenue, pointing into various windows and squeezing her hand lightly after every few steps.

“Draco, where are we going?” She laughed, letting go of his hand and spinning as the wind picked up and sent golden leaves raining down on them.

“It’s a surprise,” he insisted, reaching for her hand again.

She tugged it away. “Tell me or you can’t have my hand back.”

He laughed. “It’s right up there,” he sighed, pointing up the street at a wide park.

“We’ve been there before.” Ginny pouted, scooping up a handful of leaves and throwing them into the air.

“But not when it was like this,” he replied, pointing at the mountains of leaves that were scattered across the square. She shrieked as he grabbed her around her waist and hauled them both into the nearest pile. She screamed with laughter, punching at him as they disappeared into the leaves.

“You stupid git!” She laughed, still swatting at him. “You’re in for it now.”

“Oh I am, am I?” He grinned, pulling a leaf out of her hair.

She smiled breathlessly as well, pushing him back down into the leaves and pressing her lips against his own.

“A just punishment, I think,” he said when they broke away, gasping for air.

She smiled cheekily at him. “I’m always fair.”

“You’re perfect,” he corrected.

“Well, so are you,” she declared, leaning into him again.

Each day, Ginny knew any semblance of the guilt she felt was draining away. Draco spent every day with her, only her. He put off meetings, rearranged lunches, and skipped whole days of work simply to be with her, and it was unlike anything Ginny had ever experienced. And they spent every night together as well.

She realized, after spending seemingly endless weeks with him, that she didn’t want to go home. She realized that being this cared for was something she was getting used to, and the idea of losing it frightened her.

One night, they lay awake in Draco’s bed, bathed in the moonlight. He traced circles on her back with his thumb as they talked about the gallery they had visited that morning.

“I’ve been here almost four weeks,” Ginny said softly, gazing out the window. Almost all the golden leaves that had adorned the trees on her first day in Paris had fallen. It made Ginny sad to think about it.

“I know,” Draco sighed happily, still running his fingers across her back.

Ginny pulled at the sheets. The past weeks had been something out of a dream or one of the Muggle movies they had gone to see. She wished she could stay forever. But somehow, it felt like a vacation. For the both of them.

“I’ll have to…go back, you know,” Ginny said softly, focusing her eyes on the sheets.

His fingers stopped moving. “What?”

“Well…” she whispered. “This was a – a holiday. Wasn’t it?”

“Ginny,” he said in a low voice. “No. You…you can’t go back. I love you.”

Hope welled in her throat but she shoved it back down. “You can’t – no. You don’t even know me.”

“I know what’s important. I know where you’re ticklish. I know your favorite books and foods and what makes you happy.”

Ginny swallowed. This couldn’t be real. He couldn’t really want her. “I…I don’t know what to say…” she whispered.

“Say you’ll stay,” he urged her, rolling over in bed and taking her into his arms. “Stay here with me. I love you.”

Ginny looked into his gray eyes and smiled. She thought of the past month and everything he had taught her about life and love. She felt dizzy. Nothing had ever seemed this right to her.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“You’ll stay?” he whispered, not daring to believe his ears.

“Yes.”

“You’ll stay?” he yelled, jumping to his feet and bouncing on the bed.

She laughed. “Yes, yes! I’ll stay.”

He swooped down and lifted her up, kissing her until she saw stars.

“I love you.”

Ginny laughed giddily as she threw the few belongings that had remained at her hotel room into her suitcase. She was staying here. She was staying with Draco.

The room echoed as she laughed again, twirling across the floor to grab her last pair of shoes from the closet. She tossed them on top of her luggage and grabbed her calendar from the dresser, flipping open to the date, ready to cross it off.

The pen quivered in her hand as she passed October 16. A small red dot at the bottom of the page marked the beginning of her period.

October 16 was two weeks ago, a tiny voice in her head reminded her.

“I know that,” Ginny snapped out loud, flipping the pages of the calendar so harshly that she ripped one out.

She threw the calendar down, desperately trying to squash the feeling of dread that was seeping into her skin. She sank down onto the bed, trying to breathe deeply, but there wasn’t enough air. No, no, no.

She grabbed her coat and flew out the door, running down the street to the small Muggle pharmacy and returning to her room minutes later with her purchase tucked under her arm.

She couldn’t remember the spell the mediwitch had used on her when she visited St. Mungo’s during her pregnancies with James and Albus. The pregnancy test was her best option, even if it was a Muggle contraption.

Ginny lowered her head between her knees as she waited, and everything seemed to rush to her at once. She could hear James’s laugh and see Albus’s hesitant smile.

What am I doing? I can’t just pack up and leave them. What the hell is wrong with me? She lowered her gaze to her stomach, hugging her arms around herself and rocking back and forth on the bed. Could Harry have thwarted her dash for freedom in the most unintentional way?

“Let’s have another one, Gin…”

The end of the stick turned blue.

Oh my God.

All of a sudden her choice seemed much clearer. She wouldn’t take a child from its father. She would go home.

Author notes: A penny for your thoughts?