Fanfic: Witch Weekly, Witch Wizard by cyriathestrange (Free to read, 564,411Clicks)


Seven years after the end of the War, Ginny Weasley is finding her happiness again, with a flourishing career, fame, and her family.


Creator Chose Not To Use Archive WarningsDraco Malfoy/Ginny WeasleyGinny Weasley Harry Potter Draco Malfoy Hermione Granger Ron Weasley WeasleySlow Burn Denial of Feelings Sexual Tension love hate Slow Build Realistic Character Study draco – Freeform ginny weasley – Freeform Draco Malfoy Ginny Weasley Draco Malfoy – Freeform Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley Friendship Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley Luna Lovegood – Freeform Political Harry Potter star crossed media Tabloids Fame Quiddich Ambition Youth Power Dynamics Family Dynamics Feminism Slow Romance



Seven years after the end of the War, Ginny Weasley is finding her happiness again, with a flourishing career, fame, and her family.When a passion project puts her into an intense and insufferable working-relationship with Draco Malfoy, she is forced to reckon with everything she thought she knew about herself, her trauma, and ancient grudges.[Long-form character study of how Ginny Weasley could actually come to fall in love with Draco Malfoy.]

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text
This world belongs to the imagination of J.K. Rowling. Thanks to her for letting us take it out for a spin.
Witch Weekly, Which Wizard

Ginny was at a complete and utter loss.At some point this morning, she must have decided that the tiny bathroom at the back of her flat was the only place she could truly be safe from the world.She had wandered in and shut the door behind her, leaning against it in a state of numb, hung-over shock, still clutching the issue of Witch Weekly in a sweaty hand, staring at it in horror and feeling as though she were in a dream.She had slid down the door and onto the tiled floor at some point, still staring at the magazine.She had put the magazine down on the floor, but even then could not bring herself to tear her eyes away from the photo on the cover.She had gotten up, some stunned amount of time later, only because a lightbulb in her mind had gone off and had sent her scurrying across the flat to her closet, which she promptly upended in search of a shoe-box of old letters and photographs from her Hogwarts years.Box in hand, she had retreated without thought, to the safety of the bathroom, and had resumed her place on the floor, locking the door firmly behind her, to search through her collection of memories for something that would somehow put this all right.But hours and hours of searching, staring, reading and shaking her head had all been in vain.Presently, she was shredding the bathmat underneath her with anxious fingers, in a last-ditch effort to avoid her thoughts— though she was painfully aware that mildly vandalizing one’s own belongings was not a very mature method of processing feelings.Arnold the Pygmy Puff was not having any of it.Every time she picked a new piece of the spindly shag carpeting, he would roll with determination over the spot, blinking up at her with what she could swear was disappointment in his earnest little eyes.”Alright, fine,” she breathed at last, glaring down at him. George was always saying, usually in his best Percy impersonation, that she read too much into the ‘rather mundane and low-minded functions’ of the miniature puffskein- but she knew she saw the fuzzy little face smile.Sighing, she turned her mind to the problem at hand.If you had told a younger version of her that she would one day find herself the object of two well-to-do men’s affections, she would have snorted with laughter. She would not have cared- she would have shouted an obscenity at you, gotten her tomboy backside onto her broomstick, and flown away to more meaningful pursuits.If you had told her that those men would be Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy… she would have shrieked with laughter. And would absolutely have been tempted to curse you.Partially because the young Ginny Weasley had been pale and freckled, and had not actually wanted to differ from her brothers in gender until she was well into her teens. But mostly because in her young world, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had been the two opposites of human existence that had made up her life at Hogwarts.Harry had been her idol. Her crush, her brother’s best friend- her teenage obsession, and then her first soul-body-and-mind love.Draco had been… Merlin. Had there been a word bad enough at the time? The anti-Harry. He had made her cry, made her livid, and had given her reason to learn a myriad of nasty curses in her 5th year. And his family had been responsible for some of the worst things to ever happen to her.If you had told a younger version of her that she would one day find her heart genuinely and achingly filled with affection for these two men, she would have hexed you.Really. Her bat-bogey hex had been her masterpiece since the tender age of thirteen and she would have wielded it upon you in a second.The fully-grown-adult Ginny, or as fully grown as one in their mid-twenties can be, felt rather close to hexing herself at the moment.She stared down at the two photos on the floor in front of her. One, taken from the Burrow, was of her and Hermione when they were fourteen and fifteen, respectively. The other… was the front cover of today’s Witch Weekly. The blasted joke of a publication, gossip scrounging, bottom of the barrel bottom feedingWitch Weekly- just to clarify.In the older photo, Ginny was grinning wildly, giddy with some secret her and Hermione had been in the middle of discussing when her Dad had interrupted them with his newest Muggle experiment held awkwardly in front of his eye. She was the fiery, high-moraled girl she had always been.The Witch Weekly cover showed a very different young woman. Or perhaps the exact same young woman, plus eleven years, but whose palpable giddiness and fiery grin was directed at the very last human being the teenage Ginny would have ever allowed for.This young woman in question was sitting next to Draco Malfoy, on what was supposed to be one of their professional meetings- very mistakenly held at The Hungry Hag in Hogsmeade, last weekend. He said something dry and sarcastic, as he did, and the Ginny in the picture snorted with laughter, looking over at him with that face. That enamored, shining face.
The headline made Ginny cringe every time she so much as thought of it. What a cheesy, housewife-catching, gossip-hound-roiling, joke.She had laughed out loud with horrified and disbelieving amusement the first time she had seen it, glaring out at her from a rack at M. Mallhairer’s Magical Market. But then she had picked it up slowly, staring at the picture in her hands.And she had seen in the picture what she had denied in herself for weeks.”Arnold, let’s say we just make our new home right in here,” she whispered, picking up the Pygmy Puff and holding him high, so as to better show off the five-foot-cube of their tiled surroundings.”You can make a lovely nest right there, in the sink, see? And I can bed down in the tub, and we can both eat spiders and flies to our hearts content. Forever.”She whispered this last word as if the prospect was pure magic, widening her eyes in a ‘what say you?’ gesture. Arnold shook his little head, pawing at her palm with a tiny, motherly paw, as if to say ‘no, dear’, and curled up tightly in her hand.Ginny sighed heavily.”Well. Bully to you too then.”

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