Hello darlings,

And here comes the last couple, objectively the most chaotic duo in the room.

Ministry of Magic

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Forced Marriage Act Division

Ginerva Weasley

[The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole]

Dear Ms. Weasley,

We write to inform you that in accordance with the Forced Marriage Act of 2004, you have been selected to participate in a binding magical union.

This act, designed to ensure the stability and prosperity of the wizarding community, necessitates the pairing of eligible individuals for the purpose of procreation and social cohesion.

After careful consideration of various factors, including magical aptitude, blood purity, and familial ties, we have determined that your lifelong partner will be Blaise Zabini.

A formal ceremony will be arranged to solemnize this union. Further details regarding the date, time, and location of the ceremony will be provided in due course.

Please be advised that any attempt to circumvent or disobey the provisions of the Forced Marriage Act will result in severe penalties.

Yours sincerely,

Penelope Puffington Plimpton

Head of the Forced Marriage Act Division

Ministry of Magic

Ginny's heart pounded like a trapped animal. Blaise Zabini, a Death Eater. The words were a dagger to her soul. The boy she'd vaguely known as a Slytherin, a name whispered with fear and loathing in the Gryffindor common room, was now her designated life partner.

The forced marriage had taken on a sinister new dimension. It wasn't just about stolen freedom; it was about being bound to a symbol of darkness. Images of Voldemort, of the war, flashed through her mind. How could the Ministry be so cruel? To force her into a union with a man tainted by such evil?

Anger, fear, and a deep-seated protectiveness for her family warred within her. She was being thrown to the wolves, and she didn't know how to fight back.

She traced the words again, searching for a hidden meaning, a mistake. But the words remained unchanged, a cold, hard truth staring back at her. A wave of nausea washed over her. How could this happen? She was Ginny Weasley, fiery and independent. She had a life, dreams, aspirations that didn't involve a forced union with a boy she barely knew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Burrow, usually a place of warmth and comfort, felt suffocating to Ginny. She burst through the front door, the letter clutched tightly in her hand. The familiar scent of Mrs. Weasley's cooking and the sound of her brothers' boisterous laughter seemed to mock her predicament.

She found her mother in the kitchen, stirring a cauldron of stew. Without preamble, Ginny thrust the letter into her mother's Molly's face, usually so kind and understanding, hardened as she read. Her eyes met Ginny's, filled with a mixture of shock and anger.

"Oh, Ginny, darling," she murmured, pulling her daughter into a tight embrace. The warmth of her mother's arms offered little solace.

One by one, the Weasley clan gathered around the kitchen table. The letter was passed from hand to hand, and the room fell into a stunned silence. Ron's face was flushed with rage, while Bill and Charlie exchanged grim glances. George tried to lighten the mood with their usual jokes, but their laughter sounded hollow.

"A Death Eater," Ron muttered, his voice filled with disgust. "How could they do this to you, Gin?"

Everyone had different reactions in the family.

Mummy's heart shattered into a million pieces. To lose Fred and now face this horrific ordeal with her was almost unbearable. Her maternal instincts kicked into overdrive. She would protect Ginny at all costs, even if it meant defying the Ministry.

Daddy's always the optimist, he was stunned into silence. The weight of the news was crushing. He would try to find a way to help, to fight this injustice, but his usual cheerful demeanor was replaced by a grim determination.

Bill was a pillar of strength. His heart ached for his sister. He offered his protection and expertise, vowing to do everything in his power to ensure Ginny's safety and happiness.

Charlie was far away, but his heart was with his family. He would drop everything to come home and support Ginny, offering her a safe haven and a listening ear.

Percy was caught between his loyalty to his family and his desire to maintain his position in the Ministry, he was torn. He would struggle with his conscience, ultimately choosing family over career.

Ron was furious and protective, he vowed to stand by Ginny's side. He would do anything to make the situation right, even if it meant breaking the rules.

George found a new purpose in protecting Ginny. His humor, though dimmed, would be a source of strength for her.

Surrounded by the love and unwavering support of her family, Ginny felt a surge of strength she hadn't known she possessed. For the first time in her life, she felt truly seen, heard, and understood. It was as if a protective shield had been erected around her, shielding her from the storm that was brewing.

The weight of the forced marriage still pressed down on her, but with her family by her side, it felt less like an insurmountable obstacle and more like a challenge they would face together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Awakened by an intoxicating perfume of roses, she slowly opened her eyes to find her world transformed into a breathtaking panorama of crimson, pink, and ivory hues; every surface, from the pristine white walls to the softest cushions, was adorned with the velvety petals of countless roses. Heart pounding with astonishment, she navigated through the floral labyrinth, her steps cushioned by fallen blossoms, until she reached the kitchen, where a mysterious box, tied with a satin ribbon, awaited her.

"Mia Cara, 

My heart swells with joy at the thought of you becoming my wife. Every moment spent with you deepens my love and anticipation for our life together. I long for the day when I can look into your eyes and tell you just how much you mean to me.

Your devoted soon-to-be husband,

BZ"

Her mind was a whirlwind of doubt. Was Blaise Zabini genuinely thrilled about their engagement, or was this elaborate proposal simply a cunning Slytherin ploy?

Ginny sought solace in Hermione's company over lunch, her discomfort with the Zabini engagement growing. The pairing with Draco Malfoy, however, proved to be an even more perplexing puzzle. Though Hermione would never admit it, there were undeniable similarities between the two, a fact that gnawed at Ginny's thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello, love," she greeted, her voice tinged with sadness. "Condolences."

"Hello, Ginny," Hermione replied, mustering a small smile. "Congratulations on your match."

She sighed, looking down at her hands. "Thanks. It's... strange, but I suppose we'll make it work. He already sent me flowers three days in a row, so I quite like the Italian."

Hermione nodded sympathetically. "It's a lot to adjust to, isn't it?"

She nodded, her expression serious. "Tell me about it. And you and Malfoy..."

Hermione's smile faded. "It's... complicated. We're trying to figure things out."

She raised an eyebrow, her expression curious. "Trying?"

Hermione sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. "Forced marriages are never easy, Ginny. But we're trying to make the best of it."

She reached out and squeezed her hand. "I'm here for you, Hermione. Whatever you need."

"Thank you" Hermione said gratefully. "I appreciate that."

She leaned forward, her eyes searching Hermione's. "So... how is Malfoy holding up in all of this?"

Hermione hesitated, her mind racing. "He's... he's actually trying, too. Surprisingly. He's been respectful, considerate, even..."

Ginny nodded encouragingly. "That's good to hear. And how are you... feeling about it all?"

Hermione bit her lip, unsure how much to reveal. "It's complicated, Ginny. There are moments when I... I see a different side of him. But then there are times when I remember everything he's done to me, and I just... I don't know."

Ginny nodded understandingly. "It's okay to feel conflicted, Hermione. Just take it one day at a time."

Hermione managed a small smile. "That's what I'm trying to do."

Hermione leaned forward, concern evident in her voice. "I haven't heard from Harry. Is he okay? I know he got matched with Cho Chang," she asked her, her brow furrowed.

She sighed softly, nodding in understanding. "He's... adjusting, I think. It's been tough for him, especially after everything with me."

Hermione's expression softened. "I can't imagine how hard it must be for him. And Cho... she's been through so much, too."

She nodded again, her gaze thoughtful. "They're both trying. I think they want it to work, but... well, you know how Harry is. Sometimes he needs time."

Hermione nodded, remembering Harry's occasional need for space. "I hope they find." she nodded, her smile warm. 

"Mione, I need to tell you that….. Lav..avender got matched with Ron," Ginny said, her voice tinged with concern.

Hermione's heart sank at the news. She knew how complicated things were between Ron and Lavender after their history at Hogwarts. "Oh, Gin... That's... great."

She sighed. "Yeah, I know. It's going to be interesting, to say the least. 

Hermione nodded, trying to process this new piece of information. "Ron's going to have an amazing life with her.."

"Exactly," Ginny agreed. "And Lavender... well."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "I hope they can cherish their marriage."

She noticed Hermione's troubled expression. "Are you okay, love?" she asked gently.

Hermione sighed, picking at her food. "I'm just... surprised, I guess. I never thought Ron and Lavender would end up together again, let alone get married."

She nodded sympathetically. "I know, it's.... We don't like her either, but people change, Hermione. Maybe they've worked things out."

Hermione forced a small smile. "Maybe."

Ginny reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "It's okay to feel how you feel, you know. You don't have to pretend."

Thank fuck, she hated that bitch too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A heavy heart accompanied Ginny home from the brunch. Upon her arrival, a letter lay waiting, its presence a stark contrast to the cheerful morning she'd hoped for.

"Mia Cara,

I would like to invite you to a casual dinner tomorrow evening, where we can gather with friends to discuss our upcoming nuptials at the Malfoy Penthouse.

Joining us will be Pansy Parkinson and Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, and Luna Lovegood with Theodore Nott.

I hope you can join us.

Your soon-to-be husband,

BZ"

She stared at the letter, her jaw tightening as she read his elegant handwriting. Casual dinner? Friends? Her mind reeled at the thought. As if this is just some nice gathering, and we're not being forced into marriage by a tyrannical law.

She snorted, pacing the length of her bedroom at The Burrow. The audacity of him. Did he really think some flowery Italian phrases and a dinner invite would sweep her off her feet? Blaise Zabini might be rich, handsome, and as smooth as silk, but she wasn't some weak-willed girl who'd swoon at the sight of roses.

"Oh, Mia Cara, come to dinner so we can talk about how I'll own you for the rest of your life," she muttered mockingly, her fists clenching. "He's got another thing coming if he thinks I'm just going to sit there and smile sweetly like some mindless trophy."

She could feel the fire burning inside her, the defiance rising like a tidal wave. But she knew she had to be smart about this. If she wanted any chance of surviving this forced union with her dignity intact, she needed to face Blaise head-on, on her terms.

She grabbed a piece of parchment and quill, sitting down with a determined smirk on her face. If Blaise wanted a dinner, she'd give him a taste of who he was really dealing with.

Mio Caro,

I received your gracious invitation, and while I must admit I find it hard to keep up with all these swoon-worthy gestures—roses, dinners, and heartfelt letters—I'll make an exception and grace you with my presence. Who could resist such charm?

A casual dinner with friends sounds absolutely delightful. Just a heads-up, though—if you're expecting some docile bride-to-be, you might be in for a bit of a shock. I've never been one to play nice when someone tries to control my life. So, rest assured, I'll attend, but don't think for a second that I'll be doing anything but speaking my mind.

See you at Malfoy's. I'll be the one with the sharp tongue and the killer dress.

Yours truly,

Ginerva Weasley

She leaned back, feeling a sense of satisfaction as she reread the letter. Blaise Zabini may think he has the upper hand, but she was no one's pawn. If this was the game the Ministry wanted to play, she'd make sure she was a force to be reckoned with.

Sealing the letter, she sent it off with a flick of her wand, her lips curling into a determined smirk. Let the games begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her nerves buzzed like an overcharged wand as she paced her room. Despite the confidence she wanted to project, there was a knot in her stomach she couldn't shake. But she wasn't about to let it show.

She glanced at her reflection and smirked. She did have a killer dress—midnight black, hugging her curves in all the right places, with a plunging neckline that made her feel fierce and unapologetically powerful. Her breasts were pushed up just enough to demand attention, and the way the fabric flowed over her hips made her feel like an absolute goddess. If Blaise Zabini thought he had the upper hand, she'd make sure he was left speechless.

Stepping into the fireplace, Ginny took a breath, threw the Floo powder with practiced precision, and in a swirl of green flames, she appeared at Malfoy Manor.

The elegant, cold foyer greeted her, but not as chilling as the person standing in it. Draco Malfoy, dressed immaculately in dark robes, eyed her with his usual air of disdain.

"Well, if it isn't the ferret himself," Ginny drawled, raising a brow. "Are you waiting here just to catch a glimpse of me?"

Malfoy smirked, his eyes glinting with his typical arrogance. "Ginerva, looking absolutely dreadful, as always. Though I have to admit, the dress is doing a lot of heavy lifting." He gave a casual glance over her. "Your soon-to-be husband is already here."

Her smile faded, and her eyes narrowed. "He's not my husband," she shot back, her voice laced with venom.

"Not yet," he replied smoothly, his smirk deepening.

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "Fuck off, Malfoy," she snapped, her tone sharp enough to cut glass.

Draco shrugged, unbothered by her words, but Ginny didn't linger. With her head held high, she strode past him, feeling her confidence return with every step. She wasn't just wearing the dress; she owned it, and no amount of Malfoy's snide remarks would shake her resolve.

Luna and Pansy were already seated with their so-called "chosen ones," though Ginny couldn't help but roll her eyes at the thought. More like 'randomly assigned partners,' she mused dryly. Forced marriage didn't exactly scream romance.

She greeted everyone with a casual hello, exchanging nods and polite smiles, though there was an undercurrent of tension—after all, everyone in the room was just trying to make the best of a situation none of them had asked for.

A few minutes later, the air shifted as Hermione arrived. Her breath caught for a moment—Merlin's beard, she looked incredible. Of course, she did. Smart, stunning, and somehow making even a forced marriage look like it's on her terms. 

Her eyes instantly found her best friend, and a wave of pride and admiration washed over her. Hermione looked absolutely stunning, her dress elegant and effortless, highlighting her natural beauty. But of course she did—she's Hermione Granger, after all. Ginny couldn't help but smile, reminded once again why Hermione had always been more than just brilliant; she was a force of her own, inside and out.

The moment he saw her, he stood, a smooth, fluid motion that was unmistakably elegant. Taking her hands, he lifted them to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. A true Italian gentleman, Ginny thought, though she could feel the calculated charm behind it.

"Mia cara," he murmured, his voice soft and intimate, as if the rest of the room had disappeared. "You look absolutely radiant, as if the stars themselves dressed you tonight." His dark eyes lingered on her face, warm and intense. "I'm truly honored you've come. You've made this night infinitely more beautiful."

Her breath caught for a moment, but she quickly masked it with a wry smile. Radiant? Stars? He was laying it on thick, but that was Zabini—smooth and effortless, the perfect gentleman on the surface. Yet, beneath his polished exterior, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching her every reaction, calculating.

"Well," she said, raising an eyebrow, "if I knew I'd be making the night more beautiful, I might've shown up sooner." Her tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it. She gently pulled her hands away from his grasp, folding them in front of her. "Glad I could meet your expectations, though."

Despite the charm, she wasn't about to let Blaise Zabini—forced husband or not—get the better of her. Not tonight.

She flashed a quick smile and moved past him, her heart still racing, but determined not to let him see it.

They settled in around the table, the soft clatter of cutlery and warm chatter filling the air as everyone enjoyed the lovely dinner.

Across the table, Ginny and Blaise locked eyes, an unspoken connection forming between them as if they were the only two people in the room. He took her hand delicately, his touch reverent, as if she were the princess of his dreams.

"So, Blaise," she began, a hint of a blush creeping to her cheeks, "how's work been treating you lately?"

"Oh, you know the drill—busy, but nothing I can't handle," he replied casually, his gaze unwavering. "How about you? How's life after Quidditch treating Mia cara?"

"It's definitely been an adjustment," she admitted, her voice softening. "But I've discovered new passions and challenges to tackle. What about your Sundays? Are you enjoying the idea of brunch?"

"I am, actually. It's nice to have some downtime," he said, a smug smile playing on his lips. "And the company isn't too shabby, either."

"Is that so? Who's caught your eye?" she teased, a playful smirk spreading across her face.

"Oh, just someone intriguing—fierce and rossa," he said with a chuckle, leaning in slightly. "Someone who sees the world a bit differently."

Across the table, Hermione noticed the way their gazes danced, filled with warmth and understanding. It was clear there was a deep connection blossoming between them, despite their differences and the unusual circumstances that had brought them together.

After dinner, the atmosphere was warm but bittersweet as everyone exchanged their goodbyes. Blaise stepped aside, his expression shifting to something more earnest.

"Blaise, what is it?" She asked, curious.

"Mia cara," he began, his voice smooth, "I'd like to invite you to my home. It would be good for you to see where we'll be living together."

"Living together, huh? You mean being forced to spend the rest of our lives under the same roof?" she replied, a hint of sarcasm lacing her words.

He smiled, unfazed. "It doesn't have to be a nightmare, you know. We could make it into a fairytale."

"Sure, a fairytale," she said, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a smile. "Let's see how that goes."

As they arrived, she was struck by the sheer opulence of the home before her. Everything about it screamed money—old money. The grandeur and elegance were overwhelming.

"Oh, gosh," she breathed, taking in the lavish surroundings.

He glanced at her, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Does that mean you like it?"

"Merlin, I'm almost afraid to touch anything," she replied, wide-eyed.

"It's yours too, you know," he said, his tone warm and reassuring. "Would you like to explore the house?"

"That would be lovely, thank you," she said, a spark of excitement igniting within her.

The house stood three stories high, clearly magically expanded—an audacious move against magical law, but Ginny wasn't about to complain. It felt like a dream come true, and she was utterly mesmerized.

"So, where's my room?" she asked, excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

Blaise hesitated, a sheepish look crossing his face. "Well, I thought we could share the grand bedroom."

"Absolutely not, Zabini," she shot back, her eyes wide with disbelief.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I apologize. I'll prepare one of the guest rooms on the second floor, then."

Ginny smirked. "Did you really think we'd be making a baby right away or something?"

"Whoa, baby girl, slow down! Who said anything about that? Are you going to be this difficult?" he teased, crossing his arms.

"Obviously," she replied with a playful glare.

Blaise chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, we'll just have to work on that, won't we?"

She glanced around the room before turning to Blaise. "Can we have a drink?"

"Firewhiskey okay?" he asked, already heading towards the bar.

"Make it a double, please," she replied, rubbing her temples.

Blaise handed her the glass and gestured to the seating area. "Come, let's sit."

They settled into an elegant but slightly tense silence, the weight of the situation hovering between them.

After a moment, she broke the quiet. 

"What exactly do you expect from me as your wife?"

He smirked, leaning back. "Just... be gentle with me."

She rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "No, seriously. Are you expecting me to play the role of a perfect little pureblood housewife?"

"Mia cara," he said softly, his tone sincere. "You can be whoever you want to be. I'm not here to put you in a box."

Ginny crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as she studied Blaise. The light from the chandelier above flickered off the amber liquid in her glass, but she was far from relaxed. She needed answers, real ones—not the charming evasions he was so good at. 

"Zabini, that's not an answer," she said, her tone firm, unwavering. "I need you to tell me what is expected of me."

Blaise leaned back against the couch, letting out a soft sigh. He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a seriousness she wasn't quite used to seeing from him. "Please understand," he began, his voice calm, almost gentle, "I don't care about imposing expectations on you. You can work, or you can stay at home. You could take over the Ministry for all I care. It doesn't matter."

She raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Why not? Most pureblood men have all sorts of expectations for their wives—appearances, duties, the whole package. Why aren't you like that?"

He smiled softly, the corner of his lips tugging upward, as if her question amused him. "Because you're too fiery to restrain, Ginny. Trying to mold you into something you're not would be like trying to contain a storm. I have no desire to cage you or change you. You are your own person."

She stared at him, momentarily disarmed by his honesty. She had expected some patronizing or dismissive comment, but this? This was something else. Something real.

"What about kids?" she asked after a beat, her voice steady though her heart raced slightly. It wasn't a topic she'd ever imagined discussing with Zabini, but here they were. "Do you expect me to pop out a couple of children right away?"

Blaise's expression softened, his smirk fading into something more sincere. "One day," he said thoughtfully, "I'd love to have a child. But only with the right person."

Her heart skipped a beat, but she wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily. "And you think I'm that person?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she leaned back, taking a sip of her drink.

He didn't miss a beat. He leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her feel slightly breathless. "Yes," he said simply. "One day, you will be that person. I know it."

She blinked, taken aback by the conviction in his tone. There was no arrogance in his voice, no casual flirtation or teasing. Just certainty. And for some reason, that both unnerved her and intrigued her.

She swallowed hard, trying to shake off the weight of his words. "Well, until then," she said, her voice hardening as she shifted the topic, "you are not allowed to cheat on me. Let's make that clear right now, Zabini. You might think we're stuck in this arrangement, but I will not tolerate being disrespected."

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a teasing glint in his eyes, though his voice remained steady. "Mia cara, let me assure you—I'm not the type to stray. If I wanted to be with someone else, I wouldn't have accepted this arrangement in the first place."

She wasn't entirely convinced. "Right," she muttered, crossing her arms again as she narrowed her eyes at him. "You're telling me you're content with this forced marriage, and you're just going to… behave?"

He gave her a slow, deliberate smile, one that made her pulse race in a way she wasn't prepared for. "I accepted this marriage because I saw something in you, Ginny. You're not like anyone else, and frankly, I find that... intriguing. I have no intention of betraying that. Besides," he added with a playful glint in his eyes, "I rather like the idea of having all of your fiery attention to myself."

She felt a flush rise to her cheeks, though she'd never admit it. She wasn't used to men being so direct, so unflinchingly honest. It unnerved her, threw her off balance in a way she didn't like—but couldn't quite hate, either.

"Okay," she said slowly, setting her empty glass down on the table. "So no expectations, no forced roles, no cheating. We'll take this one day at a time, Zabini. But I'm telling you now—I'm not some trophy wife you can parade around."

Blaise chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I wouldn't dream of it, Ginny. You're no trophy—you're a force of nature. I'm just hoping to keep up."

For the first time since this whole ordeal had begun, she felt a small flicker of something other than irritation or dread. It wasn't quite hope, but it was something close—a tentative possibility that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be the complete disaster she had feared.

She stood, stretching her arms above her head. "Alright then, Zabini. If we're going to do this, let's get one thing clear—I'm not going to go easy on you."

His eyes darkened with amusement as he rose to his feet as well. "I wouldn't expect anything less, Mia cara. But don't think for a second that I'll go easy on you either. We're in this together—whether you like it or not."

Ginny gave him a challenging look, her lips curving into a smirk. "Oh, I'm counting on it."