Name: Quite Matter-Of-Fact, Actually
Author: sihleira
Pairing: Ginny/Pansy
Rating: PG-13/borderline PG
Word Count: 2882 words precisely
Disclaimer: Not mine
Warnings: Absolutely nothing that you’d need to be warned about...
Challenge: Written for eleret in the Slash Wedding Ficathon. She wanted a drunken conversation between Harry and
Draco, Dumbledore to perform the ceremony, a supportive Ron and an unsupportive Molly. I managed everything except the drunken conversation in my haste to get it finished (for it was indeed superlatively late). She dropped out, unfortunately, and probably won’t see this. However, if you do, eleret, I hope you enjoy it!


Precisely two people had ever proposed to Pansy before, and neither of them had been Draco Malfoy. That was just a statement of fact. As it were. The fact that Draco Malfoy had been involved in neither proposal was completely irrelevant.

As a matter of fact, the actual names of the proposers were Malcolm Baddock and Wayne Hopkins. Delightful. A Hufflepuff and a midget. She didn’t actually think that Ginny would like her to say that- not out loud- so she kept it quite quiet inside. It was funny, what she would and wouldn’t say when Ginny was there. The list of ‘wouldn’ts’ would probably overtake the other, soon.

Ginny was there, right then, anyway. Peering right up at her, through the covers and her tangled hair. Drowsily yawning and grinning, both at the same time.

And Pansy looked down, almost absently, to the ring that was still being proffered.

Ginny didn’t know how exactly how she’d cursed the last two. Thoughts of maiming drifted through Pansy’s mind. Only, there was just a slight problem.

She didn’t really particularly want Ginny to know. Ginny played Quidditch and fought like a baby tiger, all scratching and hissing and blazing fire, and she had just that morning decorated the entire flat in sparkles and Christmas.

Ginny liked Christmas, and was looking forward to it rather. Pansy had seen her excitedly scribbling notes of Christmassy cheer in all the Christmas cards she wrote, before leaving them for Pansy to add her customary scrawl, right at the bottom there. It was a sort of arrangement between them, like everything else was. Give and take, take and give.

Ginny was still surveying her, but her hand was edging away, so tightly clenched around that hard substance. It would leave marks, no doubt, if she didn’t let it go. “I mean, it’s probably for the best,” she was whispering, sounding deathly certain, deadly still.

Pansy was about to inform her that ‘the best’ was when everyone turned out somewhat happy, at least the people who mattered, and they could have warmed-up ice cream to celebrate, which rather annoyed Ginny, but was it Pansy’s fault that she didn’t like cold things?

But Ginny’s hand was edging further away, to the very edge of the blanket, and Pansy’s hand stretched out lightning-fast, stealing the ring right away from Ginny, before she could even begin her tirade.

And when she opened her mouth to speak, Ginny kissed her, soft and yearning.

Well. Um. Oh. It looked like this was practically forever, in that way that she believed so fervently in immortality.



Apparently, it was now time to Confront Those Closest To You, to let them know of the rather hasty decision. Well, Pansy knew that her parents would call it ‘hasty’, as well as act somewhat shocked about the fact that it was a Weasley. But Perry had already embarrassed the family enough with his antics concerning a certain Head of House (and really, why did it have to be Hufflepuff?) On second thoughts, Pansy agreed whole-heartedly with her parents about that.

It had taken him a year and seven months to work his way back into the fold, though.

She surveyed her mother over the top of her wine glass. Ginny wasn’t there, which was probably likely to do rather more good than ill. “So!” she began, trying to be conversational.

“Yes, dear? I do hope you like the potatoes. They’re new, you know- a new style.”

“Yes, absolutely. Um. So,” she began again, digging in to a potato with apparent relish.

“...So, Pansy?”

“So, I think my wedding will be about eight hundred and forty-two Galleons, plus a honeymoon in Switzerland,” she said lightly, her hand brushing against one of the baubles on the Christmas tree (and they did like to do it properly). “We were thinking of Geneva.”

“Your wedding, darling? But Draco had that affair with the Polish waiter- you remember, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mother. Myself and Ginny Weasley.” She sighed. Her parents had been told about her lesbian ‘phase’, as they put it, several hundred times (at least) in the past few years.

“Ginny? That the one working with dragons? Nice job, I suppose. Secure, but you have to think about standing, dear.” Her father had obviously not been paying attention to the past eight months. She made a mental note to up the cost of the wedding dramatically.

“Ginny’s the youngest. A year younger than me, you remember? The only girl?”

Her parents fell silent. They seemed to be taking it vaguely well, better than she’d expected, as she quietly left and closed the door behind her. Like she’d been brought up to do.



Ginny had quite literally forced Pansy to be there when she told her own parents. Pansy supposed that it was somewhat more difficult when only one brother knew, out of the entire family, but it did seem to weigh slightly overly much on Pansy herself. Especially when Ginny had gathered the whole family and all eyes were turned to them, except Mr. Weasley’s, as he was fiddling with some Muggle toy for catching rodents.

Pansy waited for his finger to be caught in it, but Mrs. Weasley pulled it out of his hand before that could happen. “Ginny has an announcement for all of us, Arthur dear...” she reprimanded, and he listened.

“Er, yes. Pansy and I, we’re.” She cast a pleading glance towards Pansy, and oh God...

“We’ve decided to enter into a contract. Which regretfully involves our lifelong commitment to each other until we get sick of each other and find a divorce lawyer.” At least it was a simple explanation.

“What d’you mean, Gin?” Ron asked. And of course he couldn’t ask Pansy, the evil bitch who had taken over his sister’s brain and coherent thought processes.

Hermione had apparently figured it out, from the way her hand wrapped itself around Ron’s wrist.

“We’re getting... married?” Ginny had her eyes clenched shut, Pansy noted.

“...Ginny?”

“Shit, Gin!”

“Ginevra, this is quite uncalled--”

“Ginevra Molly Weasley, you--”

“To her, Gin?”

“--bringing absolute dis--”

“--such a thing!”

“--family name!”

“...oops. I guess this was bad timing, then.”

“Blimey, Gin, it’s more the announcement than the timing.”



“Heya...” Ginny wrapped her arms about Pansy’s neck, craning over her shoulder to see what she was writing. “The Notts, the Zabinis...? What’re you writing in that list?”

“I grew up with Theo and Blaise,” Pansy pointed out.

“And your family, I s’pose?” Ginny asked, sighing.

“Yes, my family are at the top, there.” She added ‘Malfoys’ to the steadily growing list of names, not letting herself point out that actually, her own family seemed to have taken the news far better than Ginny’s own, who were still split down the middle.

“Which Malfoys?” Ginny demanded.

“All of them.” That seemed perfectly reasonable to Pansy, given that her parents would be utterly shamed and disgraced if the Malfoy family didn’t make an appearance at her wedding. “I asked Draco to be a bridesmaid, with his stunning locks, but he regretfully declined. So Milly’s taking his place.”

“Well, um.” Ginny at least seemed to be relieved at this small grace. “Who else?”

“Who did you want to invite, apart from your terribly extended family? Luna, Colin, Harry? Karen and Susan, were those the girls in your year?”

“And Jenny. And... oh, give that here.” Ginny spoke, clutching at the list, just as her brother appeared in the doorway.

“Hey...” Ron said awkwardly. He grinned and then stopped, quite abruptly.

“Ron? What’s so serious?” Ginny appeared to find it dreadfully difficult to be cold towards him.

“Gin, and um, Pans? I just--”

“Pansy.”

“Right. Gin and Pansy, I just wanted to tell you that whatever happens, with this wedding, I know I wasn’t really too nice about it before, but hell, everyone likes people that their friends don’t like, and things. So, look, I’ll be there and help you sort out the catering and everything.”

“That’s great, Ron. Really, really!” Ginny hugged him, grinning, placing a bit of tinsel behind his ear for him.

“Good, then...” Pansy tucked her hair behind her ear, getting a tiny bit of pen on her cheek. She gave the pen to Ginny, making to leave the room.

“Lucius Malfoy tried to kill me, when I was eleven...” Ginny added, appearing to remember something that she’d stored away somewhere.

“And when I started going out with you, and my parents were absolutely shocked that I’d broken up with Draco, even after he ran off with the waiter, Narcissa promised to take care of me whatever happened.” Pansy touched Ginny’s hand as she left, her fingers lightly pressing against the wrist of her Weasleyette.



Ginevra Molly Weasley- that smooth, fair, beloved Weasley, weasel, wished for child, but never once a rebellious sea of bitterness. She had been swirling and twirling before Pansy’s eyes, at the oh-so-tender age of sixteen, in a swirly twirly ballgown, which Pansy would have referred to as a ‘peasant’s dress’, once.

“You know, we used to dress up after school and at weekends,” she had said, pulling it over her head. “Ron and I, sometimes with the twins or whoever else we could persuade.”

“You were the queen, then?”

“Pretty much.” Ginny had giggled, remembering those things past. “I’d be queen, and they’d be either my slaves or husband. Used to make them do my chores, too. Though I didn’t really do so much around the house, not till Ron went away and there was nobody else anyway.”

“I suppose you miss the chance of queendom now?”

“S’pose so. I always sort of wanted a chance to order people around, my slaves or my subjects or my husband or. Whoever, you know?”



And then, and now, in the midst of Prada Kedavra’s ohsoexclusive range. This dress, Pansy privately thought, was far less beautiful than the one that Ginny had worn before, but the other one was in tatters and in an attic, and this one was not. The embroidery, though, it had been more beautiful, even if torn.

Ginny arranged the headband about the veil, all silver sparkles and glitter, her eyes lighting up just as much (cliché, maybe, but that was occasionally acceptable). “Of course,” she said, biting her lip in indecision, “the creamy lace one was so pretty, too... And the one with those little mirrors.”

“Would madam like to try those dresses on again?” an assistant asked, darting forward with the dresses mentioned.

Another approached Pansy. “We have some lovely bridesmaid dresses too, if you’d like to try them on.”

“Er, no.” Pansy watched the lace drape itself over Ginny’s head, then down and to the floor, all fall down. “Thanks. I’ll certainly bring the bridesmaids here soon, though. But if you’d like to get some more dresses for brides, I’ll try those on after Gin’s decided.”

“Isn’t she. Er, the bride?”

“One of the brides,” Pansy explained, casual and smirking at the attendant’s confusion. “In a single wedding. We thought we had no need for grooms, you see.”

“But the groo-- I mean, you can’t see the bride’s dress! Not before the wedding!”

This was rather confusing. “Well, I’ll let her see mine... She’ll probably demand to.”

“It goes against... tradition.”

“It’s perfectly okay. If we all believed in tradition, I’d be Mrs. Malfoy, and Gin would be preparing for her wedding to Harry Potter.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Your lady.”

“...Milady?”

“That’s better.” She returned to examining the absolute loveliness of her Ginny, and the exact way she was currently examining herself in the mirror.



“Ginny! Gin! The vicar’s wife has just Flooed in, to talk to us!”

“What’s wrong?” Ginny apparated into the living room, a laziness that Pansy quite definitely blamed on the twins’ influence. “Hi, Mrs. Daniels! D’you want some tea or something?”

“Ah, hello, Ginevra. No, it’s fine about the tea, this is just a short visit... You see, I’m afraid that William won’t be able to perform the marriage ceremony. He’s been attacked by a Hippogriff, you see, and, well, I’m terribly sorry it’s such short notice, but he really can’t make it.”

Ginny looked towards Pansy in desperation, and Pansy was really quite gratified at that. She smiled sweetly at Mrs. Daniels, just like a society wife should (just as she’d been brought up to do). “It’s perfectly okay, we understand. Of course it wasn’t your fault, so really, thank you for letting us know.”

“I do understand the difficulties of finding a replacement at such short notice...” Mrs. Daniels said, picking fretfully at her sleeve.

“That’s perfectly all right; I’m sure we can find someone to stand in. We will of course pay you for the use of the chapel et cetera, if you don’t mind?” With that, Pansy ushered the guest back towards the fireplace, waving and smiling brightly.

“...Who can we find?” Ginny’s wail rang out rather shrilly after Mrs. Daniels had left, and she sank onto the sofa, pulling at her hair in frustration. “Who in the world can we ask? Like she said, it’s such short notice, and I know it’s not their fault...”

“Well, obviously we can’t ask any of the guests to do it... They’d feel horribly offended.” Pansy spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, her mental list of acquaintances being scrolled down by her mental finger.

“I want someone close to us. A role model sort of figure. Someone that my mother would approve of, as well.”

“Why that?”

“Because if she doesn’t approve of the ceremony performer, and she doesn’t approve of the wedding itself, it won’t help a tiny little bit, Pansy.”

“Ah... Oh... Um. Are any of the professors likely to agree?”

“Oh! Dumbledore might- he’s invited to the wedding, but I’m sure he’d feel honoured anyway, he’d love to help!”

“Dumbledore?” Pansy wrinkled her nose in a very definite show of contempt. “You think he’d be any good?”

“Yep, Pansy, Draco isn’t always right about the staff. Anyway, he was always kind to you, and he never hurt you or let you be hurt...”

“But he took away our House Cup in first year...” Petulance might not be so much of a virtue, but Draco had called him an inane old coot, and Pansy had rather agreed, and then they had planned ways to overthrow him and replace him with Snape and. Oh. She clenched her eyes tight shut, even when Ginny’s face appeared next to hers. She could feel the warm breath on her cheek.

“Pansy, please. It was just a House Cup, it didn’t mean so much. It’s not as important as this going well, right?”

Pansy nodded her assent, just quietly, clutching Ginny’s hand in hers.



“Oh, hi, Pansy! Have you seen Ginny? She has a bauble for an earring, would you credit it?” Angelina was helping Pansy, as the families had both insisted to a man that the two simply could not see each other before the wedding. Pansy would have despaired at this cruel torture, but Mrs. Weasley had taken it quite upon herself to organise the wedding, with all her bounteous disapproval radiating around.

“Well, no, because I’m not allowed to see her.”

“Of course, there is that...” Angelina pondered for a moment, then began to fuss around things that didn’t seem to particularly need fussing over. “Are you sure you can walk down the aisle without tripping over this?” she asked, frowning. “It looks kind of the wrong length... I mean, it looks excellent, don’t doubt it!”

Millie interrupted at that, thankfully. Coming to Pansy’s rescue, she stood beside her. Of course, Millicent had been forced to succumb to the red and green that Ginny had demanded at a Christmassy wedding, but her dark green dress really gave quite a royal appearance. They grinned together, not so much stereotypically beautiful as elegant, rich enough to buy that sort of seductive look that would draw attention.

Millicent carefully unfolded Pansy’s hand, from where she’d been clenching her fist so hard. Her fingernails had been digging in.

She whispered a word of thanks to her best friend, just as the music began.

She had never expected such a twinge of excitement (and twinge was not the right word, this was an all-encompassing ache that just rolled around her body) at seeing Dumbledore. She had been told that he would dislike her, would single out all Slytherins.

And, well, he had proved it, back in First Year.

She looked at him rather than at Ginny, whose veil was doubtless obscuring her face. She hadn’t liked him, didn’t, but this was close enough to perfection for Ginny, so. Well.

Her parents looked thrilled to be here. She chanced a look at Ginny’s parents, and was surprised to see much the same, even if it was a determined sort of thrilled.

“We are gathered here today...”

Ginny’s veil had stopped obscuring anything at all, and her nose was upturned just the perfect amount.

“Repeat after me...”

Pansy saw that Ginny’s nail varnish had nearly been completely chipped away, that Christmas decoration of sparkles, red and green.

“I do.”

And of course, those words out of Ginny’s mouth, so self-assured and grinning and excited and oh.