Summary: What do you do when the one you love is no longer there? How do you keep going when you’re left to raise three children by yourself? No character death.
Categories: Works in Progress Characters: D/G Offspring, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley
Compliant with: HBP and below
Era: Future AU
Genres: Romance
Warnings: None
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 11
Completed: No
Word count: 24473
Read: 67124
Published: May 27, 2007
Updated: Apr 10, 2012
1. 1 Frustration by Extreme Dancer
2. 2 The Significance of Pea Plants by Extreme Dancer
3. 3 A Hair of the Enemy by Extreme Dancer
4. 4 Voice Distinctions by Extreme Dancer
5. 5 Rumor Has It by Extreme Dancer
6. 6 Rumor Has It, Part 2 by Extreme Dancer
7. 7 Good Backsides by Extreme Dancer
8. 8 Working Nine to Five by Extreme Dancer
9. 9 The Many Faces of Ron Weasley by Extreme Dancer
10. 10 A Night at the Opera by Extreme Dancer
11. 11 The Drunkenness of Angsty Purebloods by Extreme Dancer
1 Frustration by Extreme Dancer
Author's Notes:
Hello all you wonderful reviewers! I know it has been an extremely long time since I updated and I’m very sorry for that. I’ve said a hundred times that I’ll try to be better about updating; it never happens, so I should probably just stop saying it :) Updates will continue to be sporadic but I will let you know if and/or when I ever decide to stop writing entirely.
There are a few major changes happening with this story that you should be aware of. Firstly, I’ll be deleting these later chapters and starting over. The fic will follow the same basic plot, but I’ve been looking it over and have decided that there is just way too much going on right now; way too many different story arcs going on at the same time and it feels chaotic and congested. Therefore, minor plots changes will be occurring, some elements will be removed entirely, and others will be pulled out to be saved for later.
Secondly, I’ve noticed that I’m terrible about keeping characters in character. I plan to try really hard to change that this time around, but I’m going to need you all to keep me accountable with that and tell me if I’m way off base or just plain forget about it.
Thirdly… I guess there is no thirdly, other than I hope you enjoy it this time around :)
Chapter 1- Frustration
“Mum?”
Ginny jumped a little at the sound of a child’s voice; she hadn’t realized anyone else was awake. She smiled a little at being caught off guard and motioned for her son to come closer. “What are you doing up, little man? It’s a little early for you.”
Xavi, undeniably adorable at the age of four, climbed into his mother’s lap and sighed. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Any particular reason?”
There was silence, then… “I miss daddy.”
Ginny bit her lip and blinked against the sudden rush of tears. “Daddy will be back before you know it. He just had some things he needed to do for work.”
“When?”
Draco’s face floated into her mind, his words to her as he said goodbye, and she had to swallow before she could speak normally again. “I don’t know, baby. Soon.” Ginny could tell her son wasn’t satisfied with this answer, so she hurriedly came up with something to take his mind off of his father’s absence. “Tell you what. We’ll start planning a big party for when he comes back, okay? We’ll decide what we’ll eat, and how we’ll decorate the house, and who will be there, everything. How does that sound?”
Xavi lifted her head from Ginny’s chest, suddenly more awake. “Can we have cake?”
Ginny had to smile. “Of course we can. How about you go change out of your pajamas before we start out big plans?”
Xavi nodded and left the room. He was immediately replaced by the butler. “What is it, Kasen?”
“I beg your pardon, Madame, but you Monsieur Malfoy is here to see you.”
Ginny ran a hand down her face in long-suffering but rose to greet her father-in-law. “Show him in.”
Kasen inclined his head slightly and left, returning a moment later with the tall, handsome elder Malfoy in tow. “Ginevra, you’re looking lovely as ever.”
Ginny smiled slightly and accepted the light, polite kiss he dropped onto her cheek. “And you’re a magnificent liar, as always, Lucius.”
“I see you haven’t lost your usual bluntness.” Lucius moved slowly into the room, seating himself without waiting for an invitation.
Ginny rolled her eyes but remained silent; she didn’t much care for formality, but if someone had dared to seat himself in Lucius’s home without first being asked, Lucius would’ve considered it highly improper.
“How are my grandchildren today?”
“Sleeping, as usual.” Ginny sat back down, motioning towards the door to the dining room. “Xavi is awake somewhere, but Laurie and Naima are still asleep.”
“They aren’t kept on much of a schedule, are they?”
“They’re children and this is the weekend, Lucius. I won’t let them sleep until noon, but neither will I insist on them being awake by 8.”
Lucius opened his mouth to speak—no doubt to voice another veiled critique of her parenting skills—but was interrupted by the door opening and a small body walking through it.
“Mum?”
Ginny turned and found Xavi had returned, his green and silver pajamas replaced with black robes. “Come in, Xavi.”
Xavi spotted Lucius as he stepped around the davenport and his back immediately straightened as if his vertebra had suddenly turned to steel. “Hello, Grandfather.”
Lucius nodded formally at his younger grandson and Ginny had to hold back the sigh that immediately tried to escape her lips; Lucius was so intent on her children being raised as prim and proper as Draco had been. “Hello, Alexavier. How are you today?”
“I’m well, Grandfather, and yourself?”
“I’m quite well, thank you. Is your brother up yet?”
Xavier shook his head. “Laurie didn’t sleep until late last night because he was-” The boy stopped suddenly, having just realized that he was ratting out his brother.
“Because he was doing what, Alexavier?” Lucius’s tone was conversational, but Xavi wasn’t fooled.
“Because he was having trouble sleeping. I could hear him tossing and turning.”
Ginny opened her mouth, but Lucius beat her to it. “Are you certain that’s what you were going to say?”
Alexavier shook a little bit, but nodded. “Yes, Grandfather.”
Lucius held the boy’s gaze for a moment, then sighed softly and looked at Ginny, conveying his displeasure.
“Xavi.” Ginny waited for her son looked at her. “Go eat some breakfast and then we’ll get started on our planning, okay?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Ginny gave her son ‘the look’ and he suddenly found he was quite hungry, leaving his mother alone with his grandfather’s criticisms. She didn’t have to wait long.
“Ginevra, that boy is a perpetual liar.”
Ginny sighed. “He’s a boy trying to protect his older brother, Lucius. I don’t condone it, but it’s difficult to blame him for not wanting to tattle on Laurie to you.”
“Draco turned out the way he did because bad behavior was never tolerated.”
Ginny just looked at him. “You had a wife and one son, Lucius. I’m trying to raise three children under the age of ten without a spouse to help. Do you see a slight difference in situations there?”
“Still, the boy will never learn if-”
“Morning, Mum.”
Ginny smiled and silently thanked her oldest child for his impeccable sense of timing; another one of Lucius’s lectures about how badly she was screwing up her children was not the best way to start a morning. “Morning, Laurie. Did you see your grandfather is here?”
Laurie, tall for his age and looking more like his father every day, stepped further into the room. “Good morning, Grandfather. How are you?”
“I’m well, Laurence, thank you. I trust you are well?”
“Quite, thank you.”
“Is that so? Not tired, perhaps?”
Laurie froze for the smallest of moments before replying, “No, Grandfather.”
Lucius raised one eyebrow ever so slightly. “Truly? Because I would’ve thought that staying up until all hours of the night doing Merlin-knows-what would leave you a little sleepy the next day.”
Ginny closed her eyes and let out a rush of breath through her nose. “Laurie, why don’t you go have some breakfast? Xavi is already in the kitchen.”
Laurie had barely left the room before Ginny rounded on her father-in-law. “Lucius, I know we’ve discussed this before, but let’s have a little review, shall we? It is not your place to reprimand, question, or in any other way try to parent my children. Xavi’s lying will be dealt with, as will Laurie’s late nights, but I will be the one to take care of it, not you.”
Lucius opened his mouth to reply, but Ginny was already standing and moving towards the door. “I don’t have the energy or inclination to fight with you right now, Lucius. I trust you can find your way out.”
Ginny didn’t even bother to wait for a reply but headed immediately to Draco’s study. Closing and locking the door behind her, she collapsed into the chair behind her husband’s desk and put a hand to her head. She was so tired of fighting with her in-laws, living this excessively formal life… trying to raise three children on her own. ‘Where are you, Draco? Why aren’t you here?’
Frustrated, Ginny slammed her fist down hard on his desk and froze as she heard movement behind her. Turning slowly, she saw a panel of the aged wood behind her had moved aside, revealing a thick, plain black book. Curious, she took it and opened the front cover; a note in Draco’s handwriting greeted her.
Ginny,
I know that by this time I’ve probably been away much longer than you ever expected I would be. I also know how frustrated and confused you must be, and I wish I was at liberty to tell you everything that is happening. As it is, I have only this: it’s a collection of memories of us, the good, the bad, and everything in between. Look at it and remember me, and don’t give up hope that I’ll return as soon as I can.
I love you.
Draco
A single tear dripped from Ginny’s eye onto the note, and she quickly stemmed the flow before they could smear the ink. Turning the page, she bit her lip to keep from falling apart and let herself get lost in the memories.
2 The Significance of Pea Plants by Extreme Dancer
Chapter 2- The Significance of Pea Plants
When Ginny flipped the book to the first page and found the leaf of a small pea plant, she couldn’t help but laugh. To anyone else, this wouldn’t mean anything, but she understood its significance. A tiny pea plant had marked the beginning of everything for she and Draco…
_________________________________________________________________
Ginny pinned back a few more strands of hair and smiled at the mirror, finally satisfied. Her thick red hair hung in gorgeous curls down over her shoulders, pulled back at the sides to highlight her high cheekbones. She wore a simple green dress that hung nicely on her small curves, and her wrists and neck sparkled with jewelry she’d borrowed from Parvati for just this occasion. Between the color of the dress, her red hair, and the white silk belt of the dress, Ginny decided she looked very festive.
A knock sounded at the door and Ginny glanced at the clock. “Come in.”
Harry and Ron stepped into the room, both in rather nice dress robes and looking somewhat decent for a change. It was her brother that spoke first. “Come on, Gin. We’re going to be late.”
“Hold your horses.” Ginny glanced in the mirror a final time and turned away to rummage in her closet. “I’ll be down in a minute. I’ve got to find my shoes.”
Ron turned and left the room, obviously expecting Harry to follow. He didn’t. Instead, he simply stood and looked at his best friend’s sister, who was unaware that he was still present. She was growing into such a woman. It was a shame things hadn’t worked out with them.
A couple minutes before Ginny was able to locate her shoes, pull them on, and look up. When she did, she raised an eyebrow questioningly at the look Harry was giving her. “What?”
“You look beautiful.”
Ginny smiled and straightened. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
Harry grinned back at her and they were brother and sister once more. Linking arms, they walked out of the room and down into the living room of the Burrow where everyone else stood waiting to floo to the Ministry. Hermione glanced up as they joined the group and raised a questioning eyebrow at Ginny, but no one else seemed to notice. A moment later, they were on their way.
__________________________________________________________
The Christmas decorations in the Ministry ballroom were beautiful, if not just a tad tacky. It kind of looked like the Yule Ball had at Hogwarts, except that everything was just… overdone. There were too many ice sculptures, too many Christmas trees, and way too many sprigs of mistletoe hanging in the doorways. Bill quickly spotted a shady-looking wizard lounging expectantly near a particularly mistletoe adorned doorway and wasted no time in ushering the women in his party through a different entrance.
Once they got inside, it wasn’t very long before Ginny found herself being approached by young wizards eager to dance with her. She turned away the first two—or rather, Charlie frightened them away—but soon grew bored with just standing around and mentally resolved to accept the next man who stopped by, though only if his sense of personal hygiene was up to par. To her surprise—and not necessarily horror—the next one just happened to be a Slytherin.
Blaise Zabini, passing the small group on his way to the punch bowl, slowed and stopped in front of Ginny. He started to whistle appreciatively, but caught sight of her second-oldest brother standing behind her and thought better of it. Instead, he spoke. “Weaslette.”
“Zabini.”
Blaise’s eyes slowly moved up and down her body. “You look hot.”
Ginny could’ve been knocked over by a feather. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Blaise stopped, glanced at the dance floor, then back at Ginny. A challenging gleam appeared in his eye. “Want to dance?”
Charlie began to protest loudly, but Ginny had seen the gleam in Blaise’s eye and ignored him, answering with secretive smile of her own. “Love to.”
Blaise smiled back and led her out onto the dance floor, pulling her into a hold that was a little too close for comfort. Charlie was watching, however, so Ginny forced herself to relax, showing that she didn’t need his help. Reluctantly, he turned away, and Ginny allowed herself to settle into the slow dance. She didn’t know Blaise well; therefore, she couldn’t state categorically that Blaise was a bad guy. She supposed the fact that he was a Slytherin wasn’t reason enough to be completely ill-at-ease with him.
The dance seemed to move at in intolerably slow pace. It was at least a minute before either of them said anything and when one of them did speak it was the product Ginny’s mouth moving before her brain had a chance to catch up. “You smell good.”
Blaise completely stopped for a second. He recovered quickly, then started the dance again, pushing her back a little from him so he could see her face. “What did you say?”
Ginny could feel the red creeping up into her face but answered honestly anyway. “I said you smell good. You practically shoved my face into your shoulder and I couldn’t stand the silence—I thought I’d go ahead and state the obvious.”
Blaise looked at her disbelievingly for a moment, one eyebrow raised in amusement. He shook his head and pulled her back in. “Okay.”
“Seriously.”
“Okay.”
The silence started again, and Ginny decided to break it again. “Now it’s your turn.”
“To do what, exactly?”
“I don’t know, return the compliment?”
“I already paid you one compliment tonight, Weaslette. Don’t push your luck.” Blaise’s smirk spoke of his amusement. “So what do you want to do after Hogwarts?”
Ginny pulled back enough to look at his face. “I know you don’t care, so why do you ask?”
“Small talk.” Blaise grinned charmingly, white teeth flashing against his dark skin, and Ginny couldn’t help but laugh.
“I want to be a teacher, wife, and mother.”
“I’m stunned by the lack of auror dreams in there. Had enough of the action?”
Ginny opened and closed her mouth once, searching for the right words. “Let me put it this way: if I live through the final battle, I intend to live out the rest of my days in a completely danger-free environment.”
Blaise laughed. “You would classify a school full of young witches and wizards who haven’t yet learned to control their powers danger-free? You may want to rethink that one.”
“Well what do you want to do?”
“I’ve been talking to your brother and I believe I might enjoy what he does.”
“What, dealing with dragons?”
“Not Charlie.”
“Oh, inventing interesting and sometimes deadly candy?”
“Not the twins.”
Ginny frowned. “Refusing to admit you want to bed Hermione?”
“No!”
Blaise’s yell was so loud and urgent that people around them looked around, and he quickly lowered his voice. “I’m interested in breaking curses for Gringotts.”
“Oh, Bill.” Ginny’s smile told him she’d known what he was talking about the whole time.
Blaise opened his mouth to reply but a finger snaked over his shoulder and tapped him. “May I cut in?”
Blaise let Ginny go reluctantly but gracefully, and he bent his head as he walked away to whisper in her ear. “You smell good, too, love.”
Ginny smiled as she watched him walk away, and her eyes were still bright with laughter as she turned to wrap her arms around Harry’s neck.
“You didn’t look too tortured to be with him.”
“We were having fun. He actually seems okay.”
Harry looked after Blaise appraisingly. “He’s friends with Malfoy, Ginny.”
Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes. “Really? Good thing you let me know, because I’ve only been at Hogwarts with them for six years—I never would’ve known.”
Harry started to reply, but changed his mind at Ginny’s narrowed eyes. “So, how are you liking this whole Christmas-party-at-the-Ministry thing?”
“You know, it’s fun; I’m rather enjoying myself.”
“Good.” Harry nodded at another couple, drawing Ginny’s attention. “Look at Ron and Hermione.”
Ginny followed Harry’s gaze and laughed out loud. Ron and Hermione were dancing together but as far apart as possible, each holding the other at arm’s length, obviously very determined not to give anyone the wrong impression. Ron’s face and ears were as bright red as his hair; Hermione’s eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at the man she was dancing with.
“I wish they’d just admit they like each and move on.”
Harry nodded. “It’d be so much easier on the rest of us, not having to tiptoe around them all the time.”
“True.”
They both smiled but neither spoke again. The song went on with Ginny and Harry wrapped in each others arms. It wasn’t a romantic feeling, but yet… somehow it was. It was the feeling of former loves that could no longer stand to pretend everything was settled between them. Though the music faded, though a fight erupted over by the punch bowl, though Ron came over and began to talk to the two of them, Ginny and Harry’s gazes remained locked until something changed in both of them: yearning became resignation. Nodding to each other, they broke apart, and Ginny turned away with tears in her eyes.
Blinking hard, Ginny turned toward the door, having already resolved not to cry. Still, just in case it happened, she didn’t want to be in plain view of everyone. She headed out of a side entrance and into the small garden beyond it. Snow crunched on the ground beneath her feet and raised goose-bumps on her skin, but Ginny didn’t mind; she needed something to snap her back to reality right now. She needed to think.
Another set of footsteps crunching made her whirl around and she found Draco Malfoy had joined her in the garden.
“Malfoy.”
“Weaslette.”
Without thinking, she said the first thing that popped into her head. “You look good.”
“What?” Draco had stopped dead.
Ginny rolled her eyes. What was it with these Slytherins and their inability to take a compliment without arresting movement? “You heard me. I don’t think the fact that you’re a Malfoy and I’m a Weasley negates my ability to note the obvious and verbally state it.”
Draco just looked at her, slight bewilderment creeping through his usual I’m-a-mighty-Malfoy-and-you’re-excrement-beneath-my-feet expression. “Thank you, I suppose.”
“You’re welcome.” Ginny felt a blush beginning and sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the dim lighting in the garden. “What are you doing out here?”
Draco pointed a single finger at the hanging plant she stood beneath but was suddenly standing much too close; she didn’t have a chance to look at the plant before he spoke. “Mistletoe.” And without another word, he brought his lips down on hers.
It wasn’t a short kiss, nor was it chaste in any way. By the time he pulled back, they were both panting. Ginny, struggling to overcome the sheer bafflement that seemed to be cutting off the oxygen supply to her brain, cast around desperately for something to say and finally managed a look at the plant. “That is a pea plant.”
Draco didn’t even pause in straightening his cloak. “Pardon?”
“This is a pea plant, not mistletoe.”
Draco shrugged as he left her confused in the garden. “My mistake.”
____________________________________________________________________
Ginny shook herself out of the memory and ran her fingers down the page of the book. She wanted desperately to flip through the rest and devour her memories with Draco, but something told her to wait. She didn’t know how long it was until Draco would be back now, and she should savor these; they were precious. Closing her eyes to try to make the task easier, she closed the book and put it back into its hiding place, vowing not to come back to the memories until the next day; there were people that needed her here and now, not stuck in the past.
3 A Hair of the Enemy by Extreme Dancer
Author's Notes:
Hello hello! Again, sorry it took so long to update. It wasn't my fault this time! The system was being weird and messing with my formatting. The problem was definitely not me... probably.
Anyway, this is a quick note to ask your opinions on a new little code system I’m considering implementing from here on out. Originally, the plan was to have present-day happenings in Italics and the memories in regular font. However, as the amount of present-day text grows, I’m wondering if it would be easier on the eyes to just put a little P or M at the beginning of each segment to signify if it’s present day or memories. Give me your two cents’ worth—I’ll do whatever is easiest for my lovely reviewers to read! Thanks :)
Ginny, only half-listening to her mother-in-law, glanced out the parlor window and couldn’t help sighing in wonder. To see Lucius Malfoy, proud and proper head of the Malfoy house, pushing his grandchildren on the swing set… it was just an amazing thing. Moira, always the attention-seeker, squealed and called to go higher. Lucius obliged, leaving Xavi to pump higher by himself and causing Laurie, playing the protective role of big brother, to move in closer, eyes never leaving his sister.
“Ginny?”
Ginny started and shook herself, quite aware that her companion now knew she hadn’t been listening. She turned with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Narcissa, I just can’t get over…”
Narcissa nodded in understanding. “It’s pretty miraculous, isn’t it? He was never this way with Draco. Oh, he certainly cared, a blind man could’ve seen that, but he was never so hands-on. I’m still getting used to it myself.”
“I don’t understand that. I look at my children and I don’t know how I could ever hold myself back from them.”
Narcissa bit her lip, obviously trying to think of a delicate way to phrase what she was about to say. “You have to understand that this was a different time, Ginny. The Dark Lord was supposedly vanquished, but both his supporters and his detractors were at large and spoiling for a fight. Being so high within the Dark Lord’s inner circle, Lucius and I were targeted quite often. Anything that we cared about, anything that we had a weakness for, could’ve been used as leverage against us. It was in Draco’s best interest to keep our distance; it kept him safe.”
Ginny nodded and turned to look back out the window. She would’ve never guessed in a million years that the man who had slipped the diary of Tom Riddle into a young girl’s cauldron in cold blood would be the same man who she now watched laughing as he played with his grandchildren. It really was incredible. Suddenly, Ginny found she had a very good idea of what the next memory in the book would be. Excusing herself quickly, she ran full-out to Draco’s study.
Her shaking hands hardly allowed her to open the hiding place again, but she eventually managed to get her hands on the book. She flipped the pages, passing his note and the pea plant, and trembled a little at what she found. Sure enough, a fine strand of long blond hair was pressed on the page; Lucius’s hair.
The battle raged. Bodies were everywhere, seriously injured or dead, and both sides were losing members quickly. Ginny, exhausted, stumbled toward the heart of the fight, not looking back at the Death Eater she’d just killed; she didn’t want to know who it had been. Eyes closing for just a moment, she tripped and landed hard on the ground beside the lifeless body of Rodolphus Lestrange. His eyes were still open, face frozen forever as he tried to fend off whatever had hit him. Ginny turned away quickly and cried out at the body on her other side. Percy, prodigal son who had returned to his family only a few months before, was dead.
Ginny tried to be cold and unfeeling about it. She had to help the rest of the Order, and she couldn’t do that if she was dwelling on the death of her brother. She tried to forget and found that she just couldn’t. Unbidden, tears began to stream down her face, clouding her vision and cutting tracks through the dirt and blood on her cheeks. She couldn’t pretend not to care.
“Ah, Lucius, look what we have here.”
Ginny didn’t look up, but she couldn’t repress the shiver that ran down her body. She recognized Voldemort’s voice and knew that it wouldn’t do her any good to let them see her pain. She kept her face down.
“We seem to have found a female Weasel. What shall we do with her, my Lord?”
Long pale fingers cupped Ginny’s chin and forced her face upward. She found herself staring straight into the face of the most evil creature on the Earth, and another shiver wracked her body. “She seems to be grieving something. I think she needs to be taken care of, don’t you, Lucius?”
Ginny looked at the stately Malfoy and saw something flicker in his dark eyes as she met his gaze. It was almost… compassion? He seemed to be thinking very hard very fast, and he gave her the smallest of nods before speaking. “Might I request we make a gift of her to my son?”
Voldemort looked at his supporter, somewhat surprised. “He would have an interest in something so ragged?”
Lucius gave her the once-over and nodded. “I’m told she’s rather attractive when she’s cleaned up, and I believe he would enjoy her.”
“And he would find her… satisfactory?”
Ginny shivered again as Lucius stepped toward her, but she understood what he was doing and didn’t resist as he pushed his lips against hers. As much as she wanted to be anywhere else doing anything but kissing Lucius Malfoy, she recognized that he was saving her life, and so went into self-preservation mode. She kissed him back. A lot.
When Lucius pulled back, his eyes, still intelligent despite the slight dark passion smoldering in them, met hers and understanding once more flowed between them. He straightened, pulling the front of his robes back into a respectable position. “Oh, yes. I’m quite sure he’d find her satisfactory.”
Voldemort nodded. “Very well. Find your son and do it quickly.”
The Dark Lord swept away and Lucius pulled the redhead to her feet. Draco wasn’t a hard person to find, and they made the exchange of Ginny rather quickly. “Get her out of here and come up with a good excuse.” Draco just nodded, and his father hurried away to rejoin the fighting.
Ginny wanted desperately to ask what was going on, but she knew better than to question him right now. She found she was being pulled into Draco’s arms for a side-along apparition, and a moment later they were away from the chaos of the battle. The silence pressed on both of their ears, and Ginny was surprised when Draco didn’t immediately push her away. Rather, he held her for a long moment, face pressed into her hair, breathing deeply.
When Ginny cleared her throat lightly, Draco stepped back very reluctantly, his eyes showing the loss. “We need to come up with an excuse of some kind…?”
Draco nodded, veil falling over his eyes again. “Yes. We need to figure out how you escaped from me after I brought you here.”
“Wait… you’re letting me go?”
“No, you’re escaping. But in essence, yes.”
“Why?”
Draco raised his eyebrows. “If you’d rather not go, your alternative is to stay here and be a sex slave. I assume that’s what the Dark Lord gave you to me for?”
Ginny nodded. “To be completely honest, I’m not dead-set against that, but I think I’d rather escape.”
Draco just stared at her. Had Ginny Weasley actually just said that she wouldn’t mind being his sex slave? There must be something seriously wrong with her right now. Draco looked a little closer and his thoughts sobered. Her eyes were very expressionless, almost frightening with their hollow, almost dead look. He recognized that she was in too much shock by all she’d seen to even care right now.
“Alright then, we need to come up with a way for you to overpower me. I don’t suppose the Dark Lord left you with your wand?”
Ginny immediately began patting her pockets and came up with the long, slim stick. “It must’ve slipped his mind.”
Draco’s brow furrowed. “That’s not like him at all. Something must’ve distracted him… what exactly happened out there?”
Ginny closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again they were suspiciously wet. Draco had no opportunity to comment, however, as she began to talk the next moment. In tones that had no feeling whatsoever, she explained her experience, from finding Percy lying dead to being brought to him. The tears had left her eyes by the time she was done, that dead, hollow look replacing them.
Draco shuddered involuntarily. He had long since learned how to shut particularly painful things out, but she obviously hadn’t. And he had to admit that the lack of emotion in her eyes was seriously freaking him out. “So… how are you going to overpower me?”
“Bat-bogey?”
“No. I know the counter curse to that like the back of my hand; it wouldn’t realistically have given you time to get away.”
“How about… just a stunning spell? The simplicity of it caught you off guard.”
Draco nodded, eyes far away. “Yeah… I didn’t realize you still had your wand, and so wasn’t quite as vigilant as I should’ve been. I’ll have to beg for forgiveness for that, but it shouldn’t be too bad. Yeah, that should work.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Go ahead; you should get out of here before anyone else shows up.”
Ginny nodded and began to step away, but stopped. Raising her eyes slowly, she considered him for a long time. When she finally moved, it was to get closer to him. A single step brought her close enough to touch him, and she wrapped her arms around him. Surprised, Draco didn’t move away.
They stood like that for just a moment before Ginny pulled back, but it was long enough to bring some feeling back into her. When he looked at her face, she smiled the tiniest bit and stepped back. Even Draco’s eyes were softer as he spoke. “I don’t think you should apparate in your condition. Use the floo powder.”
Ginny nodded and raised her wand as she stepped back into the fireplace, grasping a handful of green powder with her free hand. “Do you want to lie down before I do it?”
“It’ll look more realistic if I don’t.”
“Alright then… stupefy!”
Draco fell as Ginny dropped the green powder and spun out of sight.
Ginny ran a finger down the hair, smiling slightly at the memory. It had been a good hour before she opened the hand holding her wand and found a long strand of blond hair tucked inside; it was still there from when she had kissed Lucius. As a result of that hug, though, she had smelled like Draco. Only like Draco…
End Notes:
Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to give me your opinion on the formatting issue from the note at the beginning of the chapter :)
4 Voice Distinctions by Extreme Dancer
Author's Notes:
I haven't uploaded two chapters in one week since... ever. Be proud :)
Ginny stroked Naima’s smooth hair as they rocked, marveling in the softness of it. As a mother, she loved all of her children equally, but this one was special because she had the look of a Weasley. Laurie was the very picture of Draco: tall, blond, lean, and lightly muscled. His gray eyes held the same protectiveness for her that his father’s often did, and he had inherited Draco’s proud pureblood stride. Even at six years old, he already had the Malfoy presence, a way of owning a room the moment he walked into it. He would be ridiculously popular with the girls at Hogwarts.
Xavi was the melting pot. The soft blonde hair was reminiscent of his father, but if he turned his head just right, the light brought out the faint strands of Weasley red. Though both Ginny and Draco were pale, their skintones were somehow different enough to tell apart. Xavi had inherited Draco’s particular brand of pallor but also had a light dusting of Ginny’s freckles that made Lucius cringe on occasion. His brown eyes were intelligent and clever, a trait that both parents would try to claim, and his mouth puckered up whenever he was upset, a trait that both parents would try to blame on the other.
Naima was the polar opposite of her brothers in appearance; she was all Ginny. The thin layer of hair covering her infant head promised to be a bright red that would chagrin her paternal grandfather no end. Her big round baby eyes were the exact shade of pansy brown that adorned so many of her uncles, and Ginny was sure her skin—toned to be like her mother’s—would soon freckle in the sun.
Ginny sighed, leaning her head against the back of the rocker, looking out at the starry night. The days were getting cooler again. It had been a year since Draco left. He’d gone with Blaise Zabini—now the head of the French Auror office—to hunt down the remaining Death Eaters and get them through the courts and into Azkaban. The plan had been to only be gone seven to ten weeks, a few months at most. And now it was a year. Draco didn’t even know about Naima. The two of them had had… quite a night before he left, and she’d found out a few weeks later that she was pregnant again. And Draco didn’t know.
Ginny stood in Draco’s study, unsure of what to do. The grandfather clock in the corner said it was technically the next day, and she had come with the intention of losing herself in the next memory Draco had preserved for her. She reached for the book and slowly opened it. She flipped past the note, the pea plant, and Lucius’s hair and smiled a little at what she found: a small slip of paper in Draco’s handwriting with the word ‘Laurence’ on it.
Ginny shivered and pulled her coat around her a little more snuggly. Seeing as she was walking through muggle Paris, she’d been forced to forsake her cloak and wrestle the muggle equivalent away from her father. Yes, it was big and thick and ridiculous, and Ginny knew she looked like a hobo right now, but it was keeping her warmer than her cloak ever had. Whoever said that muggles had never done anything worthwhile had never worn a coat on a cold day.
A particularly strong gust of wind blew and Ginny stumbled, having caught the wind broadside. After a moment, she managed to right herself and continued on down the sidewalk, head down, muscles tight. So much for the ‘gentle breeze’ that had been forecast; this was more like a hurricane without the rain. Or maybe a tornado if you unrolled the funnel.
Another strong gust of wind blew and Ginny fell back, right into the man walking behind her. She heard the surprised gasp leave his lips as her landing pushed the air out of his chest, then his arms were encircling her and pulling her into a sheltered doorway. “Pardonnez moi, Mademoiselle.”
Ginny looked up into the man’s face, intent on making a flirty comment if he was attractive, and did a double-take. Draco Malfoy?
“Parlez-vous Français?”
When Ginny again failed to answer, the man—Draco—frowned, but she ignored his confusion. Her brain was busy trying to process the fact that: A) Draco Malfoy was speaking French, and B) he didn’t seem to recognize her. The second part made her feel a bit insulted. Sure, she’d changed a bit since she’d seen him last, but that was no reason not to… oh, wait. Ginny reached a hand back to her hair, mindless of Draco continuing to question her in French and found her hand encountered only fabric. That’s right. She’d stuffed her hair down the coat to keep it safe from the wind, and a thick black hat that her mum had made her had been hurriedly yanked onto her head. The red hair wasn’t going to distinguish her this time.
“Parlez-vous Anglais?”
Ginny held back a smirk at Draco’s continuing efforts. She felt it would only be polite to answer him, seeing as he’d saved her life a few years ago and had just now kept her from getting a very sore bottom, but the sex slave comment from their last encounter pulsed in her mind; she was very glad that the wind had already turned her cheeks red, effectively hiding the blush she was sure was rising now.
“Oui, Monsieur. Je parle Anglais.”
Draco gave a very faint sigh of relief. “Are you alright, then?”
Ginny smiled a little and didn’t answer. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”
Draco frowned and tilted his head to the side. The woman was English; the strong accent in her French had told him that much. Her voice was smooth and just low enough to be sultry without sounding masculine. There was a faint accent in her English that spoke of spending little time around English-speakers of late. She sounded and looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place the name.
“Should I?”
“We went to school together.”
Draco’s brows raised in surprise. Her voice was so… proper, her pronunciation so polished. He didn’t think he’d gone to school with anyone so cultured. “We were in the same year?”
“No. You were a year ahead of me.” The lady’s voice was amused.
Draco thought for a long moment, taking in the brown eyes, the fair skin, and the dusting of freckles. Comprehension dawned. He smiled slightly and reached for her hat, tugging it free; Ginny’s red hair cascaded over her shoulders. “Hello, Weaselette.”
“Hello, Ferret.”
There was no malice in the words. They both knew what had transpired the last time they met. Surviving the war had matured them both, at least to the point where Draco didn’t verbalize his snooty thoughts about her homemade hat and she didn’t retaliate with a Bat Bogey hex.
Draco glanced up, casting around for something to say. He caught sight of the fact they were standing in the doorway of a little café. “Would you like to step inside for a moment, have a cup of tea?”
“Sure.”
They entered the small shop without ceremony and quickly discovered that they weren’t the only ones that had sought an escape from the weather. It took a bit of searching, but they finally found a corner table that was relatively private. Ginny sat down to save it while Draco volunteered to get the drinks.
“Go for it, big guy.” She was more than willing to let him brave the massive line of people at the counter while she sat and relaxed.
Draco gave her a withering look at her choice of words but walked away without comment. When he came back ten minutes later, his mood seemed to have improved slightly, and he actually initiated conversation.
“What were you doing out on such a horrid day, Weaselette?”
Ginny blew lightly on her tea, watching a tendril of steam waft its way to the ceiling. “Walking home from work.”
“You live in Paris now?”
“Mais oui.” Ginny grinned mischievously.
“What do you do?”
“I’m an exotic dancer.”
Draco choked on his Earl Grey, just managing not to spit it all over the table in a very un-pureblood way. “You're not serious?”
“Sadly, no. My life is dreadfully boring.”
Draco breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The old Draco would’ve made a snarky comment about a Weasley having to resort to taking her clothes off for money; the new Draco would’ve been very disappointed if someone so poised was wasting her time as an exotic dancer. “What do you really do?”
“I’m a nightclub singer.”
“A nightclub singer.”
Ginny saw the censure dance into Draco’s eyes. “It’s a classy place, Draco. I happen to love it.”
“Really?” He sounded very disbelieving.
“Really.”
“What’s it called?”
“Et Tout Cela Jazz.”
“Et Tout Cela Jazz! I go there almost every week, and I’ve never seen you there.” Draco sat back, pleased with himself for catching her in a lie.
“I’m the entertainment in the VIP lounge.”
Draco caught the very faint insinuation that he wasn’t important enough to be in the VIP lounge. He looked at her sitting there, sipping her tea and quirking an eyebrow at him, and conceded. “I must admit, I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.” Ginny raised her cup to him before taking another sip. “You’re a partner in your father’s firm, correct?”
“Yes,” Draco said, eyebrows raised. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Ferret. We get a lot of big businessmen in the VIP lounge, and a lot of them don’t hold their liquor well. They talk and sometimes you can’t help overhearing.”
Draco looked slightly disbelieving but didn’t reply.
Silence fell. Ginny glanced out the window and stood.
“I suppose I’d better be going; it looks like the wind has died down a bit.”
Draco glanced out the window as he stood and watched a small dog blow past. “Looks like it.”
“Thank you for the tea. It was… interesting seeing you again.” Ginny’s head tilted slightly as she smiled, causing her hair to catch the light as it fell.
“Likewise.” Draco steered her through the crowd and held the door for her to walk through first. “You’re a surprise, Weaselette, if nothing else.”
“I’d hate to be dull.” Ginny pushed her hair out of her face in time for it to blow back into her eyes again. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”
Draco watched her hair blow out behind her as she turned and, without giving it a thought, reached out, catching her arm in mid-step. “Ginny.”
“Draco.”
“Can I offer you a ride to wherever you’re going?”
Ginny stared at him for a moment, rather caught off guard. “Well, aren’t you the gentleman?”
A hint of Draco’s old smirk appeared on his face. “I do my best.”
A gust of wind tried to blow Ginny into Draco for the second time that day. She smiled wryly. “A ride would great.”
Ginny shot Draco an incredulous look as she stepped into his limousine. “Nice to see you’re so inconspicuous these days. I’m glad you’ve cut back on ostentatious displays of wealth.”
Draco settled onto the seat next to her and shut the door behind him. “You’re hysterical, Weaslette.”
Ginny grinned but let it go. “I’m surprised you use muggle transportation.”
“This is hardly the scene one envisions when using that phrase, but yes, I do occasionally use muggle transportation. This vehicle has its merits.”
“It’s still undoubtedly muggle.” Ginny bit her lip as she examined the buttons controlling the screen between them and the driver. She resisted the urge to experiment with them. “Are you softening on your position that everything non-magical is bad?”
“Let’s put it this way; if I was in a position where I could ignore muggles and their inventions altogether, I gladly would.” Draco saw her interest in the controls and pointed out the correct one. “This one closes the screen.”
Ginny shot him a brilliant smile and played with the switches for a while before replying. “You know, you’ve never exactly been the cuddly type, but I wouldn't have pegged you as the type of man to want to live out his life alone.”
“What?” Draco wracked his brain for something he might have said to inspire such a comment and came up empty.
“I’m sure your anti-muggle stance is still shared by a lot of people, but…” Ginny frowned, still fiddling half-heartedly with the buttons. “Well, I’m just saying you’ll be hard-pressed to find a woman who shares your blatant disdain for all things outside your own little comfort zone.”
Inside, Draco was asking himself how they had possibly gotten onto this topic. Verbally, he said, “What makes you think I have any desire to ‘find a woman’?”
“Exactly.”
“What?”
“You don’t. You’re okay staying just the way you are because you’re not in any rush to find someone to pull you out of that rut.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “What incentive would I have to find someone? My life is certainly beyond acceptable now. I’m insanely rich, heir to an even bigger fortune, and—since you’ve pried into my personal life—I’ll tell you I currently have loads of sex with absolutely no commitment. What could possibly be missing?”
Ginny smiled a little. “I’ll ignore for a moment that I’ve always found sex to be better in a relationship and counter with this: What’s going to happen to that massive fortune of yours, Draco?”
“It’s going to continue to grow in direct proportion to the growth of my company’s client list. What’s your point?”
“I was more thinking along the lines of after your lifetime.”
“I imagine it will continue to grow; the company isn’t likely to go under anytime soon.”
Ginny opened her mouth. She stopped, let out a breath, drew in another, and tried again. “Draco, it amazes me that you graduated second in your class—you’re being extremely thick. My point is that you don’t have any children! Who’s going to inherit your vast wealth when there’s no one left? You can’t tell me you’re willing to allow the Malfoy fortune to leave the Malfoy line.”
“I have plenty of years left to produce an heir, but thank you for your interest in my financial status.” Draco looked at the woman next to him, considering. “Why are you so interested, Weaselette? You don’t have any heirs, either.”
“In my case, that doesn’t make a lick of difference, as you well know.” Ginny leaned back against the seat, tilting her head back to look at the ceiling. “My parents produced far too many heirs; there isn’t a Weasley fortune to inherit.”
Draco looked thoughtful for a moment. “What would you name your children, if you had any?”
Ginny lifted her head and blinked at him. “How did we make that jump?”
“After all the random conversation changes you’ve made today, you question the one that I make?”
“Fair enough.” Ginny smiled at herself, taking a moment to mentally count her conversational bunny-trails before answering. “I very much like Lauren. I want my firstborn to be named Lauren. And then Isabella is beautiful, too, or maybe Selene. I liked Fleur as well, but my sister-in-law ruined that for me.”
Draco snorted in a very undignified way. “Those hardly seem likely, Ginny. Your family doesn’t produce girls at a very rapid rate.”
Ginny shrugged. “I’ll marry a man whose family isn’t known to produce boys, and we’ll even each other out.”
“Of course you will.”
“What about you?”
Draco’s eyebrows shot up; he obviously hadn’t been expecting her to send his own question back. “I really haven’t given it any thought.”
“Really? Men really are different from women.” Ginny was momentarily putout. She recovered quite quickly. “Let’s name your hypothetical children.”
Draco just looked at her. “Let’s not.”
“Your future wife/heir-producer will be appreciative if you’ve put some thought into it ahead of time. What were your grandfathers named?”
“Alexander and Xavier.”
“Oh now, see? That’s an easy one. Combine them into Alexavier and voila! You have a name for the future holder of that massive Malfoy fortune.” Ginny grinned widely.
Draco actually looked mildly pleased. “Even though I’m just humoring you in the hopes that you’ll let this subject go sooner if I don’t oppose you, I rather like it. It’s very smooth and…”
“Pureblood-esque?”
“Exactly.”
Ginny smiled and glanced out the window, then did a double-take. “Where are we?”
“We have to pick up someone.”
“You know someone who lives in the rundown part of town? It’s not a muggle, is it? I would probably drop dead of shock.”
Draco rolled his eyes and didn’t answer as the driver turned into the badly paved parking lot of a semi-respectable apartment complex. When they came to a stop, Draco opened his door and stepped out, leaving Ginny with a firm “Stay here.” He waited to move away until she nodded her assent.
Five minutes passed. Ten minutes and still no sign of Draco. Finally, at the fifteen minute mark, Draco reemerged from the apartment building, holding the door for a beautiful blonde. The woman walked with a heavy limp, and her hip rolled grotesquely with every step she took. Her face showed pain every time her right leg touched the ground, and Ginny soon found herself grimacing along with her.
Ginny’s gaze shifted to Draco, and she felt something squeeze around her heart. He stood tall and proud, resplendent in black dress clothes, but his hand was under his mother’s arm, and he was supporting her as much as he could. Her bags were in his other hand, and there was so much obvious concern on his face that Ginny could hardly believe the transformation. The scene in front of her was incredibly hard to describe, but it was wholly beautiful.
Draco opened the front passenger door and helped his mother inside, then carefully set her bags at her feet. He didn’t speak as he came around to the back and got inside next to her again. The rest of the ride was silent; neither of them made any move to break the silence. Ginny had just been rather humbled in her opinion of Draco, and he seemed to lack any inclination to explain his mother.
A few minutes later, the driver pulled to a stop in front of the complex that housed Ginny’s flat. She moved to open the door, then paused and glanced back at her companion. Without a word or a moment of hesitation, she leaned over and pressed her lips softly against his cheek. When she pulled back, she smiled and said very softly, “Thanks for the ride, Ferret,” and climbed gracefully from the vehicle.
It was a few hours before the incessant tapping on her window began. She had just turned off the heat and lifted the whistling tea kettle from the stove when she heard it the first time and went to investigate. Sure enough, a large eagle owl hovered just outside her house, letter clutched in its beak. Curiously, she opened the window and admitted the unfamiliar bird. Surely Fred and George hadn’t bought another new owl.
Ginny took the letter from the bird and found that the handwriting was unfamiliar. Curiosity peaked, she gave the messenger a few treats to keep it quiet and opened the letter.
The name conversation we had in the car has been echoing through my mind, and it refused to leave me alone until I sent an idea to you. Since you seemed to be so infatuated with the name Lauren, and since it’s highly unlikely a girl will be born to you given the severely unbalanced ratio of male to female Weasleys, I’ve come up with an alternative: Laurence. Name your firstborn Laurence. In exchange, I’ll name my firstborn Alexavier. Unless, of course, they happen to be one and the same, in which case I’ll settle for Alexavier being my second.
Draco
Ginny found herself smiling as she pulled out a quill and started to pen a reply, his last line running through her mind: Unless, of course, they happen to be one and the same…
End Notes:
I have to give credit where credit is due. I realize that the line "You don't recognize me, do you?" is rather innocuous, but every time I read it, I see Julia Ormond saying it to Greg Kinnear in 'Sabrina.' That's kind of where the idea for this whole encounter came from :)
5 Rumor Has It by Extreme Dancer
Chapter 5—Rumor Has It
The hidden compartment behind Draco’s desk seemed to beckon to her, and Ginny moved toward it without hesitation, pulling out the book that lay inside and sinking into the office chair. She flipped slowly through the pages she’d already looked at, smiling at the memories they represented. When she got to a new page, Ginny paused, blinking in surprise at what she found—a French visa application and a single rose petal, peach in color.
Ginny quickened her pace as she walked through the halls of the French Ministry, nodding politely and smiling amicably when she passed wizards who did the same. This was the law enforcement floor, and it held a surprising number of very polite people, not to mention incredibly built ones. Through the doors to her left, she could hear combat training going on, both magical and muggle, and sometimes a frightening combination of both. A quick thud marked the sound of someone hitting the floor, then a whiny feminine voice yelling in anger at her attacker. Ginny rolled her eyes as she walked swiftly past; having encountered a young Lord Voldemort when she was only 11 years old and lived to tell the tale, she had no sympathy for over-sensitive rookies who complained the first time they got a bruised arse.
“Bonjour, Ginny. It eez nice to see you.”
Ginny glanced up from the paper she’d been skimming as she walked, prepared to offer back a standard, non-committal greeting, only to realize she knew the person addressing her. “Bonjour, Gabrielle. Why are we speaking English?”
“It ees a bit more private, no? Not as many people on this floor speak English.” Gabrielle surreptitiously looked over her shoulder under the guise of tossing her shimmering blonde hair back, looking oh-so-much like Fleur. “You look much different zhan ze last time I saw you.”
Ginny hesitated for a moment in answer but decided her companion’s comment was meant as a compliment. “And you look exactly the same. Do you work here?”
“In a way. I am a model for ze government safety posters. I look fierce and tell ze children not to run with wands.” Gabrielle laughed an adorable little giggle, planting a hand on her hip in a too-casual-to-look-posed-even-though-it-is way. “Do you work here?”
“Actually, I-”
“Ginny, there you are.” Blaise’s smooth voice floated up the corridor, followed by its owner. Ginny smiled and made a show of looking him up and down appreciatively. Blaise, dressed impeccably as ever, noticed and winked subtly. “I was wondering what was keeping you.”
“I’m sorry, Blaise, I got caught up with an old acquaintance.” Ginny watched Gabrielle look Blaise up and down in the same way she just had. “You remember Fleur Delacour from the Triwizard Tournament? This is her sister, Gabrielle, whom I’d have to say is infinitely more likeable. Gabrielle, this is Blaise Zabini; he was at Hogwarts with me, but a year ahead.”
“It eez a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Zabini.” Gabrielle offered her hand, and Blaise took it.
“The pleasure is entirely my own.” Blaise smiled easily, a charming smile that didn’t seem like it could belong to a former Slytherin, then gestured to Ginny. “I’m sorry to rush off, but I’m afraid I have an engagement that rather requires my attention at the moment and Miss Weasley’s as well. If you’ll excuse us, Mademoiselle Delacour, I believe we should be attending to it.”
“Bien sûr.” Gabrielle glanced down at the top paper in the stack she held, then at the clock on the wall. “I should be going, anyway. Eet was nice meeting you, Monsieur Zabini.”
“Please, make it Blaise.”
“Blaise, then.” Gabrielle smiled slightly, a quick upturn of the lips as she walked away, working her model walk in full runway mode.
Ginny and Blaise watched Gabrielle walk away in silence for a moment—rather Ginny watched Blaise watch Gabrielle walk away—then they turned as one to get to the privacy of his office. The occasional head turned to watch the odd couple as they walked, a pair of eyes here and there, but they mostly seemed to be ignored. The older secretaries were very practiced at watching without appearing to; it was how all the office rumors got started.
They reached Blaise’s office without incident. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping back to allow Ginny in first. When he’d entered and closed the door behind him, his first words stated the obvious. “People are starting to talk.”
Ginny nodded. “I’m not surprised; I’d be suspicious if an unknown English woman met weekly with one of the few English men working here and they secluded themselves in his office for rather substantial amounts of time. I’m glad it’s working, but I don’t want you to get into trouble with your superiors for meeting with your girlfriend at work. Are you sure you shouldn’t tell them the truth?”
“I’m not going to compromise your position just to get them off my back with their assumptions.” Blaise leaned against his desk and crossed his arms on his chest. “If you’re really worried about it, we could meet somewhere else, somewhere non-work-related. Your nightclub, maybe?”
Ginny shook her head, sinking into one of the overstuffed armchairs that spotted his spacious office. “In my club you can quite guarantee there’s someone listening in; that’s kind of the point of my being there. I think we should continue on here; it gives us both solid alibis.”
“Whatever you want to do.” Blaise pushed himself off the desk and moved behind it to sit down. “Alright, what do you have for me?”
It was only about half an hour later when the door to Blaise’s office opened again, and Ginny and Blaise stepped out. They chatted in a would-be casual way, her hand sneaking up to brush his hair back here, his hand resting briefly on the small of her back there. They appeared to be entirely ignorant of their surroundings, oblivious to the whispers that their intimate gestures were sending around the secretarial pool like lightning. Appearances, however, can be deceiving. Both were survivors of the final battle, and as such were keenly aware of everything going on around them.
“Draco Malfoy,” Blaise said as he pointed to a line on a random piece of paper and pretended to explain it to her. “Coming up behind you.”
Ginny accepted the paper and stepped away from Blaise. “Thank you for your time, Monsieur Zabini. I’ll see that this is delivered right away.”
“Thank you for taking it for me.” Blaise looked over Ginny’s shoulder, pretending to see his friend for the first time. “Hello, Draco.”
“Blaise.” Draco nodded to his friend and caught Ginny’s eyes as she turned around. “Weaslette.”
Ginny grinned in spite of herself, shaking her head at the ever-present Hogwarts nicknames; some things time couldn’t change. “Hello, Ferret. It’s been, what, two weeks since I saw you last?”
“About that, yes.” Draco’s eyes flickered to Blaise’s mussed hair and then over Ginny’s flushed cheeks. “What brings you to the Ministry this afternoon?”
“Nothing terribly exciting. I needed to renew my residence visa, and I stopped up here on a whispered rumor that the auror department had an opening. Apparently, said rumor is incredibly false.”
“I’m afraid we’re a bit over-stocked right now, much to my disappointment. I believe it’d be nice to have you around.” Blaise’s voice was professional but his smile bordered on overly-friendly. “But, as I told you before, Miss Weasley, you probably wouldn’t find it terribly exciting working here after your excursions during the war.”
“I suppose not.” Ginny glanced at her watch, starting convincingly. “Excuse me, won’t you? Thanks again for your time, Mr. Zabini. It was nice seeing you again, Draco.”
The men both offered the fitting social niceties, watching the redhead hurry away before speaking again.
“So… the Weaslette wanted a job?” Draco’s voice was would-be casual, as was Blaise’s when he replied.
“Apparently, but we’re already over-staffed. I took her resume, though, and offered to let her know if there was a position open in the near future. She’s a damn good fighter.” Blaise pushed open the door of his office again, waving Draco in after him. “My superiors are going to think I never do any work in here. What’ll you have today?”
“Butterbeer’s fine.” Draco dropped into one of Blaise’s chairs, tapping a thoughtful finger on his friend’s desk. “The two of you are starting quite a few rumors, as I’m sure you know.”
Blaise coughed awkwardly as he handed Draco a butterbeer. “I certainly know that, but I’m curious as to how you do. Last time I checked, your company wasn’t exactly on anything more than tolerable terms with the Ministry.”
“Witches talk,” Draco dismissed, waving a hand aimlessly. “You might be slightly away from it here in your ivory tower, but the secretarial gossip is as bad as ever. I swear the business floo network is used more for rumor-mongering than it is for actual business.”
Blaise shrugged non-committally, waiting for the topic he knew would quickly resurface.
“As the closest thing you have to a friend, I’d feel more than a little insulted if I wasn’t the first to know if something was going on between you and the Weaselette.”
This was the kind of moment Blaise hated. His job as the head of the Auror Department in the French Ministry often put him in a difficult position; in order to do the job effectively, you sometimes had to lie about the important things to the most important people.
“Nothing is going on with us currently, though I think I’m wearing her down.” Blaise looked at Draco thoughtfully over the top of his beer bottle. “Why, are you interested in her?”
Draco looked right back, his gaze steady. “What would give you that idea?”
Blaise shrugged, taking a gulp of butterbeer before answering. “Rumor has it.”
“What do you think, Draco?”
The blond man glanced up at Blaise and saw that he was expecting a response. Draco’s mind worked quickly to formulate a neutral comment that could cover an expansive range of topics, as he had absolutely no idea what his friend had just asked his opinion on. “It sounds interesting enough, I suppose. Run the general outline by me again.”
Blaise’s ever-present grin widened and he drained his martini with a flourish. “You weren’t paying attention.”
Draco didn’t bother trying to deny the accusation; the two of them saw right through each other more often than not. “My apologies, Blaise. I find I’m a bit distracted this evening.”
“Your thoughts are somewhere else,” Blaise agreed, watching the other man for a reaction. “Or with someone else?”
Draco’s vodka paused momentarily, then continued its journey to his mouth. “And just whom might my thoughts be with, Blaise?”
“Oh, I don’t know…a certain lovely redhead, perhaps?”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
Blaise switched out his empty martini glass for the half-empty butterbeer he’d abandoned earlier, turning slightly more serious. “Far be it for me to make assumptions, Draco, particularly concerning your romantic interests. However, based on your reaction to her earlier this afternoon, I’d have to say that I think the young Weaselette has rather caught your eye.”
The fact that Draco didn’t vehemently deny this suggestion immediately proved Blaise’s theory correct, but he remained silent, waiting to see how the other man would play the field. Draco’s gaze intensified very slightly before he spoke. “And what would your opinion of such an… interest be?”
Blaise was silent for a moment, weighing his next words very carefully. “I can see where such an interest could be… difficult to accept, keeping our former views in mind. However, I’ve come to think rather highly of Miss Weasley in the brief acquaintance we’ve had since school; I could easily be convinced to approve of any hypothetical interest one might have in her.”
Draco sat back in his chair, considering, weighing the options. He seemed deep in thought, and the resolution in his expression never quite achieved completion. “Bear in mind, Blaise, that I’ve in no way made up my mind on the issue.”
Draco paused, and Blaise felt it was necessary to push a little. “I feel a ‘but’ coming.”
“However, taking your view on the matter into account, I’m leaning toward taking action.”
“Excellent!” Blaise clapped his hands once and stood, reaching for his cloak. “Let’s go toast your indecisiveness!”
Draco managed to hold his comment in until they were being seated in the VIP lounge of Et Tout Cela Jazz. “You brought me to where she works? Very subtle, Blaise.”
Blaise shrugged out of his cloak as he sat down, not looking even mildly abashed. “I knew you’d never come here if left to your own devices. You said yourself you were interested; now you get to see her in action.”
“That’s all well and good, Blaise, but I usually prefer not to follow a lady around like a lovesick schoolboy, particularly when I haven’t decided if I’m going to pursue her or not.” Draco’s annoyance was mingled with curiosity, and so was marginally less than it would’ve usually been in a similar situation.
“Watching her perform will help you decide.” Blaise’s grin was very nearly stretching off his face as he ordered a martini and settled in to watch the fireworks. He knew that Draco had always had a healthy appreciation for people with a respectable talent, and a certain redheaded lady certainly fit that description. “Trust me”
“You see, the frightening thing is—-I do.”
Blaise nodded toward the stage. “Here comes your lady now.”
Draco’s gaze went immediately to the stage, and he tilted his head slightly at what he saw, considering. Ginny was making her way out from between the black curtains, the soft spotlight moving with her. She wore an old-fashioned empire-waisted dress—peach in color—that brushed the floor. The fabric swayed with her as she walked, and the gold threading in the dress highlighted the subtle streaks of gold in her red curls. Her long hair positively glowed in the spot, creating the illusion of a halo of light surrounding her lightly freckled face.
She walked confidently, gracefully, to the front of the stage, her entire mannerism speaking complete comfort with her situation. At Ginny’s nod, the pianist played a single note, and the singer began her song a capella.
What immediately struck Draco was the sweet clarity of her voice. She obviously had little to no training, which made the forgiving style of jazz perfect for her. But that voice… it was soft, yet supported; sweet, yet strong; and oh, so crystal clear. She glided effortlessly over the notes, her voice thriving on the curious melody line. The strong chorded style of the piano behind her only intensified the fact that Ginevra Weasley was a beautiful singer.
It wasn’t even her voice that was currently captivating her audience the most, though; it was her presence. The way her curvy silhouette swayed with the music, the way her vibrant hair and deep brown eyes caught the light… it was intoxicating. Her face clearly expressed the helplessness of a woman in love, the anguish of a love unrequited, and the disappointment of walking through her wonderland alone. The way she was one with the music, pulling her listeners in with her, making them feel what she did… it was nothing short of incredible.
The song ended in a predictably jazz way, with one long note fading slowly into nothingness. The applause in the room was dazed as the club’s patrons awoke from their haze and realized it had just been a song, not a reality that they were living. There was no cat-calling or throwing of flowers—-this was the VIP lounge of the prestigious Et Tout Cela Jazz, after all; no such frivolity would be socially acceptable. But the small gathering of people made their appreciation known through their applause, through their approving murmurs, and through the occasional reserved cry for more.
Ginny smiled slightly at the small group of people, amiably accepting their applause with a nod or two, before standing silently to wait for them to quiet down. When order had been restored to the room, a second song began, this one much more up-tempo and including a wider range of instruments. And yet again, when Ginny’s voice joined the accompaniment, all the audience could do was smile and let themselves be entranced.
Ginny’s set continued for just short of an hour, at which time an instrumental jazz ensemble came out to replace her. It was only a few minutes until she reappeared, this time in the audience instead of on the stage. She stood in the back for a moment, allowing everyone a good view of her new knee-length dress as she surveyed the crowd. She waited until Blaise turned and smiled at her before feeling confident enough to move toward their table.
“Hello, Blaise. I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.” Ginny’s gaze moved to the blond man, and her eyes widened just a hint in surprise. “Draco, it’s nice to see you.”
He inclined his head slightly. “Likewise.”
“Mind if I join you?”
Blaise stood and pulled out a chair for her, planting a light kiss on her cheek as he did so. “You sounded marvelous tonight, Ginny. Am I mistaken, or have you added a new song to your repertoire?”
Ginny nodded the affirmative as she sat, casually brushing her thick red curls back over her shoulder. “Yes, the opener is new. I decided that Lullaby of Birdland was a bit more up-tempo than I wanted to begin with.”
“Do you often do English jazz songs as opposed to French ones?” Draco’s question was voiced out of genuine curiosity; it was unusual to hear non-native songs in this establishment, translated or not.
“Almost always, yes. I’d rather translate my favorites into French than learn a new song that I have no history with.”
“What is that new one?” Blaise signaled a waiter as he spoke, ordering a refreshment for Ginny as if it wasn’t uncommon for her to be sharing drinks with him. “It sounds familiar, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”
“It’s Sarah Vaughn’s cover of Misty.” Draco spoke before Ginny could, and her surprised stare had him questioning his answer. “That’s right, isn’t it?”
Ginny took a sip of her water before answering. “Yes, though I didn’t expect you to know it. You don’t strike me as the jazz type.”
“Really?” Draco quirked an eyebrow at the redhead. “And what type do I strike you as?”
Ginny tilted her head to the side, biting her lip without even attempting to hide her smile; her gaze darted to Blaise before she spoke. “I can see you sitting in your study with ten other obscenely wealthy men discussing the various subtleties of Tchaikovsky or Clementi.”
“Drinking aged wine-” Blaise’s interjection came quickly and was followed by another addition by Ginny.
“Patting your straining waistcoats-”
“Watching the old record turn on the ancient muggle phonograph-”
“While blowing smoke rings from your expensive tobacco pipe!”
“Oh, no no no, Ginny. The pipe visual should be reserved for when he’s old, gray, and telling stories that include the phrase ‘When I was young’. I should say this particular instance calls for a genuine Cuban stogie.”
“Oh, very well, Blaise.” Ginny feigned exasperation, but her smile bespoke of her amusement. “Patting your straining waistcoats-”
“Watching the old record turn on the ancient muggle phonograph-”
“Smoking a genuine Cuban stogie-”
“Pretending to care about the loss of a meaninglessly small account-”
“Feet propped up on a footstool that costs more than I make in a year-”
“While the sun sets in the west!”
“Hear, hear!”
Blaise raised his glass and Ginny clinked hers with his, giggling all the way at the look on Draco’s face. When their toast was completed and they’d both drained their glasses, the blond man spoke.
“Are you two quite through?”
Blaise glanced at Ginny. “What do you think, Ginny? For the moment, yes?”
“I suppose so. What’s the matter, Ferret?” Ginny leaned across the table, giving Draco an excellent view of the feminine assets otherwise hidden by the neckline of her dress. “You can’t good-naturedly take some teasing at your expense?”
Draco leaned back in his chair, a half-smirk crawling onto his face as he enjoyed the view she offered. “On the contrary, Weaselette, I find no inherent problem with teasing itself. It’s frighteningly dimwitted teasing that I find hard to pallet.”
“And on that note, Miss Weasley-” Blaise stood suddenly, shedding his cloak and holding a hand out to Ginny. “I’ll ask you to dance in order to keep you from throwing yourself across the table at Draco. Shall we?”
Ginny laughed, pushing back her chair as she laid her hand lightly in Blaise’s. “Yes, let’s.”
Draco watched them as they made their way to the dance floor, chatting companionably as they went. The band had just begun a rousing version of It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing), and Blaise threw a challenging look at Ginny before letting go of her hand and stepping onto the floor. Ginny, never one to pass up such a blatant dare, squared her shoulders and moved to meet him. The moment their hands met, the mood changed. The casual dance atmosphere of the room evaporated; all eyes were on Ginny and Blaise.
Now, Draco had seen his friend dance before; he knew that Blaise was a phenomenal dancer, and so was more than a little surprised when Ginny wasn’t immediately trounced. He watched as the pair circled each other, stepping in time to the music, somehow making simple walking something impossible to tear yourself away from. Without warning, they broke out of the circle perfectly together and the dance began.
Draco was immediately struck by the partnership of it all. Though they were currently dancing separately, somehow they were always aware of what the other was doing, always complementing each other in some way. They shimmied, they jitterbugged, they partnered for a toss that had the room gasping, and they captivated. The small crowd began to cheer, and soon the song was wrapping up. Ginny ended in Blaise’s arms, hanging half upside-down and shaking from exertion. A thin sheen of sweat coated both of their faces, but their smiles said they didn’t care.
Ginny and Blaise returned to the table still breathless, with Ginny adjusting the strapless neckline of her aquamarine dress while Blaise unbuttoned the collar of his Oxford. Draco motioned to the frosted pitcher of water the waiter had recently delivered, allowing them to get themselves refreshments before commenting.
“That was very impressive. You two partner each other well.”
“We’ve become something of a staple.” Ginny sat back in her chair, favoring catching her breath over downing a glass of water. “Blaise originally taught me just the simplest moves, but they all seemed impressed. Now, every time he comes they bring out the jazz band to force us to show off. Bit embarrassing, really.”
“You taught her.” Draco’s gaze locked with Blaise’s, his eyes conveying an question that wasn’t present in his tone. “Interesting.”
“She can also cha cha, conga, and waltz.” Blaise put a slight emphasis on the last word, holding his friend’s gaze and shrugging off the unspoken question.
“Impressive.” Draco conjured a single peach rose out of thin air and extended it to Ginny. “Would you do me the honor, Miss Weasley? I believe the Moon River we’re hearing now would prove an excellent waltz song.”
Ginny looked between him and the rose for a moment before accepting it. Carefully avoiding the thorns, she broke the stem off and tucked the bloom into her hair, marveling at the softness of the dainty peach petals. She offered Draco a smile as she took his hand. “Of course, Mr. Malfoy.”
6 Rumor Has It, Part 2 by Extreme Dancer
Chapter 21- Rumor Has It, Part 2
A women’s scarf was folded carefully beneath the clear page cover, its light orange dye subdued but eye-catching. Ginny couldn’t help but smile as she gladly let herself get lost in the memories.
Ginny walked into Blaise’s office without knocking and closed the door sharply behind her. She threw a legal pad down on his desk.
“We have a problem.”
“Hello to you, too.” Blaise pulled the pad toward him and flipped through a few sheets but didn’t see anything that alarmed him. “Doodles and nearly-incoherent scribbles?”
“Yes.”
“So the Ministry needs to be more discerning in its hiring of new members to the secretarial pool. You considered this an emergency?”
“Of course not—well, yes, actually. Have you been down the west corridor on the second floor recently? That whole section is a cloud of disgusting perfume and cheap nail polish.”
“Between the Gaming Commission and Magical Mishaps? That area is known clandestinely among the higher-ups as the floor of toxic fumes.”
“Clever.”
“We like to think so.”
“But that really wasn’t the emergency that brought me here.”
“I should hope not. I’ve been tolerating them every day for four years; I think you can handle once a week.”
“Can we return to seriousness, please?” Ginny waited for Blaise’s gesture of acquiescence before sitting. She leaned forward and tapped the legal pad in his hand, drawing his attention back down to it. “The secretaries on this floor all have one of these, and they’re all charmed to be linked together. It’s like note passing at Hogwarts, but much lazier.”
“I’ve known about this for years, Ginny. It’s harmless office gossip.” Blaise dropped the legal pad and started to sit back, then caught himself and amended his statement. “It’s usually harmless office gossip. What have they done now?”
“They’re talking about us. I ran into some very pointed questions on the way up today about my constant appearances here, about the hours we spend alone in your office. We were doing alright in the rumor mill until now, but these secretaries are killing us.”
“The rumor mill until now being that we were doing the dirty?”
“Yes.” Ginny couldn’t stop the tiny smile that quirked up the side of her mouth. “Sorry, you said ‘doing the dirty.’ It’s funny coming out of your mouth.”
Blaise smiled wryly. “I know you wish we were, Ginny, but try to focus.”
Ginny just rolled her eyes. “So the problem is that now the secretaries have gotten together to start ganging up on me for hooking up with you.”
“They don’t like you being such a loose hussy?”
“And they don’t like me letting you take advantage of me. They say I have too much influence over the younger generations, that I’m not being a good role model, and their opinion is starting to spread and draw too much attention.”
“So basically, if you weren’t such a damned inspirational symbol of hope and morality to the good little children, we would still be fine.” Blaise sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I knew I hated Gryffindors for a good reason.”
“Aw, and here I thought you didn’t care.”
“If only I didn’t.” Blaise glanced up and saw Ginny’s raised eyebrow. “About this assignment, I mean. About you, I really don’t care.”
“Keep up that warm gushiness, Mr. Sunshine; I’m sure it’ll convince the secretaries we’re more than fuck buddies.”
“Touché.” Blaise reached behind him and passed her a butterbeer. “How do you want to handle this?”
Ginny popped open her butterbeer and took a swig before answering. “Well, I told them that we’re dating, so there aren’t a lot of places to go from there. We have to become less discreet, and quickly, or there will be more questions. Walking through the corridors together, a few public appearances, being dates for the occasional official dinner… anything to make it appear that we are, in fact, a couple.”
Blaise made a face. “It’s intolerable enough going to those dinners when I know I’m going to get a shag out of my date in the coatroom; it’ll be completely insufferable going celibate.”
“Your sob story tugs at my heartstrings.” Ginny sighed and drummed her fingers on his desk. “What do you really think of this?”
Blaise shrugged. “The whole reason we’ve continued meeting here is so we’d have a viable excuse if and when these types of questions came up. I’m not thrilled that I’m now in an obligatory, sexless relationship, but it is what it is.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Ginny clinked her glass against Blaise’s and downed another gulp. “As long as we’re on subjects that are no fun to talk about, we need to chat about Draco.”
Blaise raised his eyebrows and gestured for her to continue.
“Why did you bring him to the club the other night?”
“I needed a drink, the club was there. I can’t lie, they have good booze.”
“Blaise, please.”
Blaise set down his butterbeer. “What do you want me to say, Ginny? This life that we lead… it’s hard. Sometimes you want to drop the professional façade, sometimes the lines get blurred.”
“But the lines can’t get blurred, Blaise, not with us.” Ginny paused and drew a breath, the weight of her job laying heavy on her. “Bringing him to the club… it made things difficult for all three of us. I know he’s your best friend, but that doesn’t mean you can skirt the rules for him. If he doesn’t believe we’re really together, then he’s going to come after me, and I’m going to let him, and then our whole ruse is ruined.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You’re the sneaky Slytherin. I’m sure you can figure out something.”
Blaise rubbed a hand down over his face, looking older than he was. “Alright. I’ll figure something out.”
“Good.” Ginny bit her lip, letting the silence settle for a long time before speaking again. She purposefully injected her tone with more positivity than she felt. “I don’t feel like exchanging our information for the week now. You?”
“I’d prefer not to at this particular moment.”
“Alright, then what shall we do?”
Blaise watched in bemusement as Ginny leaned back and propped her feet up on his desk, looking at him expectantly. “I do have a job here, you know.”
Ginny batted her eyes innocently. “But I’m your girlfriend and we’re secluded in your office. If I come out too soon people will assume the worst and then I’ll have to come up with a new excuse for being here every week! Really, Blaise, it’s for the good of the job.”
Blaise held up his hands in surrender, unable to bite back his grin. “Fine, you win. What do you want to do?”
Ginny’s smile widened as she drained the last of her butterbeer and stood. “I think we should really give the gossips something to talk about.”
Looking back on it later, Blaise wasn’t sure when he’d lost all sense of propriety. He thought it might’ve been around the time that Ginny tossed her cloak in the corner and unbuttoned the top few buttons of her black silk blouse. Then again, it also could’ve been when she’d pulled his shirttails out of his pants and put her scarf around his neck. Eventually, he concluded that the catalyst for his uncharacteristic behavior had been when she’d tousled her hair and pulled her skirt up to an indecent length, stretching out on his desk invitingly. In any event, when a knock sounded at his door, it was no hard task to sound distracted.
“Go away.”
Ginny giggled at the roughness of his voice, and they were both sure of how that giggle was interpreted on the other side of the door.
“Mr. Zabini, there’s someone here to see you.”
Blaise groaned convincingly from his position next to the door, double-checked that Ginny was in position, and wrenched the door open in a show of aggravation.
“What?!”
The blood drained out of Blaise’s face as he took in the sight of Draco Malfoy standing outside his office. He watched his best friend take in the room, take in Ginny’s appearance and his own, and reach out one finger to pull Ginny’s orange scarf out from around his neck.
“Draco, I know this-”
“Nothing is going on with you?” Draco’s voice was coolly formal, his face and eyes were expressionless. “I see you wore her down.”
“Draco-”
“I left the forms you asked for with your secretary,” Draco interrupted. “But I’m afraid Malfoy, Black, & Associates will be unable to go over them with you today as planned. Excuse me.”
Without waiting for a reply, Draco turned on his heel and stalked away, looking for all the world like a cool, collected, and dangerously offended version of his father.
“Shit!” Blaise slammed the door as he reentered his office, desperately trying to think how in the hell he was going to explain what had just happened.
End Notes:
I hate to beg for reviews, guys, but I have to do it occasionally. Reviews are how I improve. If you like the story, say so. Tell me what parts are your favorites so I get a feel for my strengths. If you hate it, tell me. Constructive criticism is one of the best tools available, and I know I need it at times! Please and thank you :)
7 Good Backsides by Extreme Dancer
Author's Notes:
Random note: fanfiction.net is being stupid right now, so you guys are getting the new chapter before my readers there do. Feel special :)
Chapter 7—Good Backsides,
The kids were particularly difficult to put to bed that night, largely due to the fact that they'd had Merlin knows how many cookies while at Grandma Weasley's house that day. In time, though, the exhaustion in their little systems overcame the sugar, and they drifted off to sleep one-by-one. Ginny waited long enough to make sure they were all deep in slumber then made her way to her own bedroom. She slowly changed out of the jeans and turtleneck she'd worn to her parents' house, pulling on a pair of white silk pajamas in their place. She shrugged into a robe as she walked to Draco's office.
Looking to occupy both her worrying mind and her fidgeting hands, Ginny slid the book of memories out of its hiding place and opened it to the first page she hadn't seen. From an artistic standpoint, it was a bit of letdown after the colorful scarf from the previous page. However, the simple receipt for an order of potions ingredients made Ginny smile.
"I hear you and Blaise had to improvise the other day to maintain your cover."
Ginny groaned and popped the last bit of biscuit into her mouth. It was a cool March day, and she was currently at Hogwarts enjoying tea with the headmistress, a job which happened to belong to one Hermione Granger-soon-to-be-Weasley. "How much did he tell you?"
"Enough that I was and am still completely scandalized, though not as scandalized as your brother was when Harry was telling us." Hermione visibly struggled to control her critical expression as she finished setting out the tea trappings; she almost succeeded. "I expect there's more of a story than what he told me?"
"It was horrid. All we needed to do was throw in a few embarrassingly loud moans, the odd crashing sound, and we would've been fine. But no, I wanted to have this sexy, elaborate plan to 'give them a show,' and Blaise went along with it because I happen to be terribly convincing."
Hermione stifled a tsk and tried to be reassuring. "That's not so bad—a bit risqué perhaps, but based on your track record it's certainly not anything that warrants a fuss."
Ginny frowned. "I'm letting that comment go for the moment only because I'm absolutely bursting to tell someone the whole story. So we had this elaborate set-up for the next person who walked in to see—hair mussed, clothing ruffled, me stretched out on the desk—and it just so happened that the next person to walk in was the great bouncing ferret himself."
Hermione choked on her tea. "Draco Malfoy walked in on you in your state of pretend shagging and semi-undress?"
"The one and only." Ginny was glad to see that Hermione seemed to be grasping the full implications of the situation. "He walks in in all of his ferret-y, pureblooded glory, takes one look, and starts talking to Blaise in one of those dangerous, passive-aggressive type voices."
"One of those 'I'm not technically doing anything wrong right now but I'm leaving you with no possible doubt that I want to murder you and actually might do it at a later date' type voices?" Hermione nodded in understanding. "Ron is on the receiving end of that voice often."
"Precisely. So he turns and stalks away in his aristocratic, ridiculously intimidating way, and he hasn't said a word to Blaise since."
"That's a very first year way for him to behave." A knock interrupted Hermione. She stood and walked to the door, frowning slightly. "I'm really not expecting anyone but you today. Unexpected callers generally precede detention distributions."
Ginny opened her mouth to submit a guess as to who was at the door and what their crime had been, but she was cut off before she could voice it. It was all well and good anyway, as she suddenly became too embarrassed to speak as Draco The-Aristocratic-Ferret himself walked in. Ginny quickly closed her mouth, hoping against hope he wouldn't look over and see the signature Weasley color climbing into her face.
"Mr. Malfoy." Hermione offered her hand after the tiniest of awkward pauses, a slight tinge of pink in her cheeks the only indication that anything was amiss.
"Professor Granger." Draco's voice was mild as his eyes swept the room, taking in Ginny's bright red face and Hermione's pink cheeks in one fell swoop. He briefly grasped Hermione's hand. "Pardon my intrusion. I wasn't aware you had company."
"Not at all. Have a seat, please." Hermione gestured toward the chair she'd recently vacated and moved in the direction of her personal cabinet. "Can I offer you something—Butterbeer, Ogden's?"
Draco declined with a slight shake of his head, pulling a scroll from his robes and unfurling it. "No, thank you. I just need your signature for the order of potions supplies, and I'll be on my way."
"Of course." Hermione obligingly took the scroll and the eagle-feather quill he offered her and scanned down the list. She paused almost immediately, eyes narrowing on one particular item. "Paragraph 12, subsection 3 of the Restricted Substances Act made Idelione illegal in the possession of minors."
"Except in cases of supervision and controlled distribution by a certified witch or wizard, as specified in Paragraph 13, subsection 5." Draco produced a copy of said paragraph and presented it to Hermione for perusal with no sign of his usual smirk. "I verified Professor Slughorn's credentials before I came; he recertified last year as required and so is qualified to be the responsible adult."
Hermione made the tiniest of grimaces at being found wrong and corrected, but she recovered quickly and continued down the rest of the list. Finding nothing amiss, she signed her name and handed the parchment back. "I didn't realize your company sent the boss to deliver the orders."
Draco accepted the parchment with a noncommittal shrug and tucked it back inside his cloak. "I handle the most sensitive ingredients personally. Thank you for your business, Professor Granger."
If Hermione was surprised by the sudden end to the conversation, she didn't show it. "Not at all, Mr. Malfoy. I'll be in contact if we need anything else."
"Of course." Draco tugged lightly on his cloak, making sure it was impeccable before opening the door to leave. "Good day, Professor."
Ginny silently watched the door close, and neither she nor Hermione spoke in the immediate minutes after Draco left. Other than the occasional snore from a portrait, there was nothing but silence in the room.
Eventually, Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, I suppose I ought to get back to work…" It was enough.
"Thanks for the tea, Hermione." Ginny was already halfway to the door. "I'll floo you later."
It was amazing to Ginny how quickly Draco Malfoy could move. It had only been a few minutes, yet by the time Ginny found him he was already halfway across the grounds. She spotted him as she ran out of the front doors; her shout halted his progress towards the gate.
"Malfoy, wait!"
He gallantly waited until she drew even with him, face devoid of its usual smirk. "Miss Weasley."
"What you saw… nothing happened, I swear it."
Draco raised an eyebrow in an oh-so-condescending way and glanced toward the tower they had both just vacated. "You are free to have tea with whomever you wish. While I might question your taste in hot beverage, I have long since given up hope that your family will ever have good taste in company."
"I'm going to let that comment slide for the moment because it's not the most important issue at hand, though I will log it away for later discussion. I'm not talking about tea with Hermione, and you know it."
Draco sighed, straightening the cuffs of the sleeves just visible at the end of his robes. "I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about, and I'm frankly not in a mood for riddles today."
"Just listen to me for a second." Ginny watched the shutters slam shut in his grey eyes and grabbed his arm, anticipating his move away from her. "Draco. Please."
He looked for a moment like he was going to refuse but seemed to change his mind at the last second. "You have one minute. Convince me."
Ginny sent up a quick prayer of thanks to anyone who was listening and started talking; she knew better than to assume Draco would listen for even a milli-second longer than the minute he'd allotted. "I do some consultant work on the side for Blaise's office. I report to him, so we meet to discuss my work. What you think you saw… it's just for fun, something we do for laughs and to give the secretaries something to gossip about. We're not actually shagging in his office every week."
"And Blaise wouldn't have told me this because…?" Draco's expression showed no signs of softening but, then again, it was hard to tell with him.
"What I do… it's sensitive. No one is supposed to know that I'm working for him… actually, I had just finished telling him not to tell you when you walked in. You simultaneously have impeccable and horrible timing." Ginny sighed, running a hand through her thick hair, which was currently being blown up and around her head like flames around a fireplace log. Really knotty flames around a heavily freckled log. "When you were there the other day, we were in the process of trying to quell suspicions that I was there for a reason other than a quickie with my boyfriend. I know it looked awful, but you need to believe me when I say nothing happened. I shouldn't even be telling you this now, but it's not worth ruining your friendship with Blaise."
Draco snorted and straightened his already-straight gloves. The tiniest of smirks worked its way across his mouth. "You overestimate your influence, Weaslette. You've gotten much more attractive since school, I grant you, but I'd hardly abandon my best friend over you; he would have brought me brandy and something expensive and all would've been forgotten. Wonderful show, though. I can see you're not telling me the truth, but you obviously put some effort into it."
Ginny just looked at him. Then she adjusted her jumper to keep from reaching for her wand and throwing several painful hexes in his general direction. "God, I hate Slytherins."
"We hate you, too." Draco's signature snarky smirk was back, full-blown. "Though Blaise has mentioned that ass of yours a few times, and I'll admit that that much of you is growing on us."
"Lovely." Ginny rolled her eyes and turned back toward the castle. "I'll be going, then."
"Weaslette." Draco didn't let her get more than five steps away. "Oh, don't turn back around; I'm enjoying the view from here. I just wanted to tell you something."
The feminist movement would require she be offended, but Ginny couldn't quite work up any outrage. All she could do was grin, obligingly leaving her backside facing her companion. "What, Ferret, you need to comment on my ass again?"
"You do have a good ass, but I was going to tell you something else."
"I'm dying of anticipation."
"We should go on a date."
Ginny slowly turned, eyebrows raised. "Excuse me?"
"I believe you heard me, Weaselette."
"You know, your date propositions might be more well-received if you didn't liken the recipient to large rodents while propositioning them."
"Your point is well taken." Draco glanced at the giant clock on the main tower of Hogwarts then at the gate. "I have to be on my way. Since you haven't answered, I assume I'll be hearing from you soon?"
Ginny smirked slightly. "Technically speaking, you never asked anything for me to submit an answer to. However, I will treat your earlier statement as an invitation and respond accordingly soon."
"Charming."
End Notes:
To anyone who reviewed the last chapter and only just received a response, a thousand apologies! I've been very bad lately at keeping up with stuff :( I'm in the wrong here; I suck (10 million bonus points to anyone who knows what that quote is from).
8 Working Nine to Five by Extreme Dancer
Chapter 23- Working Nine to Five (What a Way to Make a Living)
The seventh page of the book held a business card emblazoned with MALFOY, BLACK, & ASSOCIATES. It was very somber-looking—black with bold, stern writing—but it made Ginny smile.
"This is Harry's newest proposition. He tried to accommodate all the changes you wanted made to the task forces."
Blaise barely glanced at the paper before throwing it viciously back at Ginny. "Well you can tell Harry that his newest proposition is ridiculous; I don't have this kind of manpower and he knows it!"
Ginny drew a deep breath and mentally counted to ten as she smoothed the parchment and put it back in her bag. This had been the most miserable meeting she'd ever had with him, excluding the time he'd accidentally eaten a product of Fred and George's and been able to communicate only through sexual innuendos. No, scratch that—that meeting had at least been fun for one of them. "Are you familiar with the phrase 'don't curse the messenger'? Let's try to implement that plan of action from now on, shall we?"
Blaise glared at her. "You're not amusing."
"I'm not trying to be." Ginny leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "What's your problem? You've been a bloody terror all day."
Instead of snipping at her angrily as she'd expected, Blaise sighed and bent out of sight behind his desk. He reappeared a moment later with a box wrapped in plain brown paper; he set it on the desk between them. "This is my problem."
Ginny just looked at him; sometimes it was way too easy to mock him. "Oh, you have a box. This all makes perfect sense now."
Blaise shook his head and made to move the box back behind the desk. "Forget about it. It doesn't matter."
"Blaise." Ginny put a hand on the box, halting its movement. "I'm sorry. Please, tell me what's so upsetting about the box."
Blaise sighed heavily. "It contains extremely important information that needs to reach its owner as soon as possible, but it's also highly sensitive, to the point that either I need to hand deliver it to him or he needs to come get it from me himself."
"Okay, so what's the problem?"
"The problem is that neither of us have the time to make the exchange happen. Every second counts with this delivery, but some of the contents of this box are too volatile or rare to risk transporting by floo or apparition; it has to be done by muggle transportation."
Ginny frowned. "You can't have one of your aurors do it?"
Blaise was shaking his head before she finished the sentence. "Even if I had a spare auror to take care of my personal business, which I don't, I can't take the risk of that person's curiosity getting the best of them."
Ginny was silent for a moment. "What about me?"
"No."
"Oh, come on. The whole reason I'm here right now is because I'm good at keeping secrets and transporting classified information. I want to help."
"Ginny-"
"Blaise."
He looked at her for a moment, considering, then nodded his assent. Some of the tension in his face instantly eased. "Thank you."
A knock sounded at the door and Blaise's secretary stuck her head inside. "Mr. Zabini, the Minister would like to see you in his office."
"Tell him I'll be there momentarily." Blaise waited for the door to close again, then addressed Ginny as he stood and moved to the fireplace. "You're going to Knockturn Alley. Just charge the ticket back to England to the Ministry; I'll take care of it."
"Wait, Knockturn Alley-"
Blaise continued as though he hadn't heard her, grasping a handful of floo powder as he talked. "Don't give that to anyone but Draco himself. You can get his information from Delaney on your way out."
And with that, Blaise threw the floo powder into the fireplace, spoke his destination, and was gone, leaving a very unhappy Ginny in his wake; she muttered to the empty office as she gathered her notes from their meeting.
"Thanks again, Ginny, I know how inconvenient it will be for you to take muggle transportation all the way back to a shoddy, disreputable alley in London. Oh, I didn't mention you'd be going all the way to England? Terribly sorry about that. I know it will be especially pleasant for you to deliver a package to the man who asked you on a date that you haven't agreed to yet. Oh wait, what's that? I forgot to mention that little detail before? Oh well, I'm sure it won't be at all awkward for you to show up on his doorstep when there's a giant elephant in the room!"
Ginny swept out of the office, slamming the door behind her. She glanced over to see Blaise's secretary looking at her mildly. "Men are pigs!"
Delaney wordlessly lifted the dish on her desk, offering it to Ginny. "Chocolate?"
"Oh yes, because my gaining weight and breaking out will certainly help him realize the error of his ways." Ginny took a chocolate anyway.
"Do you want to stick a pin in my Blaise Zabini voodoo doll, then? It's incredibly therapeutic."
Ginny swallowed the melting chocolate, her interest piqued. "How closely does it resemble him?"
"A perfect likeness."
Some hours later, Ginny stood in the farthest end of Knockturn Alley looking from the business card Delaney had given her to the imposing building in front of her. 'MALFOY, BLACK, & ASSOCIATES' was engraved across the top in large, serious letters. Underneath that and in slightly smaller letters were the names of the partners: Lucius Malfoy, Brendan Black, Draco Malfoy. A chill ran down Ginny's spine, and she instinctively took a step back before catching herself. Leave it to the snobby rich ones to even have buildings that were intimidating.
Twenty minutes later, after a confrontation that eventually involved flooing Blaise to convince the security guard at the front desk to let her through, Ginny stood in front of the offices of the named partners. Each door had a gold plate bearing the name of its occupant, and each occupant had a private secretary guarding said door from unwanted intrusion. The particular woman who resided in front of Draco's door was younger than the other two, and she was the only one of the three who looked up as Ginny approached.
"I'm here to see Draco."
"Do you have an appointment?"
Ginny decided immediately that she didn't like this woman. There was something in the way she snootily pursed her lips after asking the question that conveyed an immediate disdain for the redhead she was addressing. Nevertheless, Ginny attempted to be polite.
"No, I don't, but-"
"I'm sorry," said the snooty lip-purser in a tone that suggested she was anything but. "You can't see him without an appointment."
"I just need to speak with him for one moment."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible."
"I have a delivery for him, a package from a friend."
"Of course you do."
Ginny bit back a retort and tried again. "If you'll just tell him I'm here, I'm sure he'll want to see me."
"Look, red, you're pretty and all, but not that pretty."
Ginny swallowed hard. "Excuse me?"
The secretary sighed and put aside all pretense of subtle dislike, running her eyes disdainfully up and down Ginny's figure. "You're not the first girl to have tried this—though you're the first who didn't have the consideration to bathe first—and I can tell you in all sureness that he's not at all interested in your 'package'. Now, are you going to go willingly, or do I have to call security?"
Ginny lost it. In an instant, she had her wand out and inches from the snooty lip-purser's face, who now looked decidedly less cocky than a moment before. "Look, Barbie, I want you to listen and listen well. In the past several hours, I have taken the subway from the French Ministry to the coast of France, ridden a ferry from France to England, ridden another subway to London, hired a taxi to come back to London after missing my stop, and fought my way through the scum of Knockturn Alley to get here. I have dealt with brainless muggles, angry customs officers, and a security guard who was more interested in coming onto me with brainless innuendos about what we could do with our wands than checking me for dangerous paraphernalia. I am hungry, tired, not to mention thoroughly pissed off, and no gold-digging bitch whose only ambition in life is getting her boss into her knickers is going to tell me I can't do what I came to do. Now, has the bleach in your hair fried all your brain cells, or can you understand what I'm saying?"
Blondie's mouth, which had dropped open partway through Ginny's rant, began to form a reply, but the intercom on her desk buzzed to life before she could get it out.
"Whose dulcet tones am I hearing out there, Clara?" God, he even sounded like a smug, wry bastard through the intercom. "More importantly, why haven't they been silenced yet?"
Blondie—sorry, Clara—reached to reply but Ginny beat her to it. "Hhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiii, Draco."
There was a moment of silence. "Weaselette?"
"The one and only," Ginny said triumphantly, shooting a victorious look at Blondie. "I have a package for you from Blaise, though I'm not sure you want to take it, as that apparently means he wants to have sex with you."
"Excuse me?" Draco's voice sounded amused.
"Your secretary thought the package was from me, so she told me I wasn't good enough to have sex with you, but according to the witches running the Most Eligible Bachelor column in Witch Weekly you really can't do much better than Blaise, so I think you'd better accept it."
One of the other secretaries burst out laughing.
The intercom was silent for a moment. "Weasley, get in here."
Ginny straightened and walked through the door, beaming with self-satisfaction. "Greetings, Mal-ferret." She paused and looked around, letting out a low whistle. "Great office. You could use a new receptionist, though; I don't think it's normal to have a picture of your boss hidden in your cleavage."
Draco was obviously wrestling with himself as to what his reaction to her sudden, conspicuous appearance should be. At the moment, it looked to be hovering between amusement and pureblooded disdain. "Have you been smoking floo powder?"
"Why does everyone always think that? It was one time!"
Draco raised an eyebrow questioningly.
Ginny shrugged. "Call it the foolishness of youth. It actually gives you a decent buzz, but there's always the chance you'll end up in Bora Bora with nothing but the clothes on your back and a pipe full of floo powder, so I gave it up."
Draco's second eyebrow joined the first.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm kidding. I'm just really exhausted. Blaise said this was important."
Draco took the package and sighed, a small smile coming over his face. "It is. You have no idea what this means. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
They stood in silence for a moment, during which time Ginny became aware of just how disgusting she felt right then.
"Alright, I'm going to shove off then. I need a shower, and you obviously have work to do."
Ginny was out the door before Draco had a chance to reply. She waltzed past the silently fuming Blondie, then doubled back and pressed the intercom speaker again.
"Oh, and Draco?"
"Yes?"
"I would love to go on a date with you."
9 The Many Faces of Ron Weasley by Extreme Dancer
Chapter 9- The Many Faces of Ron Weasley
The eighth page of the book held a pair of tickets to a Quidditch match between the Harpies and the Cannons. They were dated seven years ago.
Ginny growled at the mirror, willing her reflection to change. There were a few things that Ginny really really hated, and they all seemed to be ganging up to put her in a bloody foul mood today. She hated first dates. She hated not sleeping well the night before first dates. She hated trying to look good for first dates while trying to make it look like she hadn't tried. She hated the Bertie Botts beans that tasted like lima beans. Granted, that last one wasn't remotely connected to the other three and the terrible start to her day, but it was still true. The problem right now was that she didn't look good enough for a first date. Ginny's initial reaction when Draco had proposed a Quidditch match had been excitement; her reaction when she'd stood in front of the mirror and tried to make herself look effortlessly attractive and feminine resulted in a nasty hairbrush throwing incident and a stream of swearing that would probably result in a noise violation.
A knock sounded at her door and Ginny sighed, sparing one last glance in the mirror before she turned away to hurry across the flat. She did a quick check through the peephole before opening the door.
"Hi."
"Hello."
They stood silently, sizing each other up. Ginny had to stifle a snicker when she was that Draco was wearing muggle jeans and trainers underneath his robes. Granted, the robes looked very expensive, and the jeans probably cost more than her entire wardrobe, but still. Her amusement quickly faded into silent glowering when she registered how effortlessly good he looked in his muggle clothes. He probably hadn't spent any time at all getting ready. Bastard.
As for herself, Ginny was feeling rather self-conscious about her clothing choices. The plain t-shirt and ripped jeans that she loved had felt like a good idea at the closet five minutes ago. Stupid closet, making clothes look better than they really did. Ginny also knew that the worn orange Chudley Cannons hat she wore clashed horribly with her hair, but she didn't have much of a choice there; she had to at least make the attempt at being inconspicuous today. If the tabloids caught her out with Draco it would be headline news, and Blaise would skin her alive.
The silence was getting awkward by the time Ginny finished mentally berating herself for always tuning out Fleur when she went on her Ginny-'as-'orrible-fashion-sense-101 rampages.
"Nice hat."
Ginny smiled a bit in spite of herself and touched the well-worn fabric. "Family heirloom. I don't really like it myself, but I know Ron does, so I stole it. I figure having to wear it occasionally is penance enough for my thievery."
"Since you acknowledged it's horrid, I feel justified in not pretending to like it."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Come in, then."
Draco stepped into the flat, eyes sweeping over the walls, the small kitchen, and the doors leading to her bedroom and bathroom before settling on the untidy living room. Ginny mentally congratulated herself for at least remembering to take care of the empty wine bottles that usually adorned every flat surface they could find. She could live with him thinking she was a slob; a wino, not so much.
"No comment on my hobo-esque way of living? No jibe about my entire flat being smaller than your bathtub?"
Draco's gaze moved from the living room back to Ginny. "I'll save the insults for later in the date, probably after I've already charmed you into shagging me."
"You're off to a brilliant start. I'm swooning already." Ginny double-checked her back pocked for her wand—take that, Professor Moody—and grabbed her keys. "Shall we go?"
When they apparated into the stadium, there were two things that Ginny immediately noticed. The first was that there were a few thousand people milling about, so the odds of them running into anyone who would jeopardize her cover were slight. The second was that her hat—and hair—helped her blend in perfectly with the supporters of one of the two teams scheduled to play. Unfortunately, it wasn't the right team.
Ginny made a face at Draco. "You didn't tell me not to wear my Cannons hat."
"I thought I made it abundantly clear that that particular fashion choice was a mistake. I'll be less subtle next time, if you'd prefer."
"I don't give a rat's ass what you think about my hat." That wasn't strictly true, but he didn't need to know that. Ginny adjusted her hat self-consciously. "Once we get to our seats, I'm going to be lynched for wearing this. Why did you get us tickets for the Harpies side instead of the Cannons?"
"We have a box to ourselves, and I doubt I'll be struck with a sudden urge to lynch you, so your life is safe." Draco watched her fiddle with her hat in amusement. "As for your question…. the politically correct answer is that the Cannons are playing a double-header and won't be at the top of their game. The real answer is given the equally undesirable options of supporting a team of masculine women or a team of girly men, I went with the former."
Ginny reached toward her back pocket and toyed with her wand. "Would it be a deal-breaker if I charmed one of the Bludgers to come after you? Just for a minute or two, I mean."
"Only because I already paid for the tickets, and if I go to the hospital and you go to prison, they won't get used."
"Right. That would be a waste." Ginny let the smile linger on her face as her eyes swept the crowd. A feeling of uneasiness pushed its way into her mind and began to creep along her spine. There was something she should be remembering… "Bugger."
Draco looked at her sideways. "What?"
"The Cannons are Ron's favorite team." Ginny reached up to run a hand through her hair but stopped when she remembered the hat. "The odds of him being here just increased exponentially."
Draco raised any eyebrow. "If you didn't want to be seen with me, you shouldn't have agreed to a Quidditch match."
"I'm beginning to reconsider that Bludger idea, Malfoy."
Ginny continued scanning the crowd. In retrospect, she was never exactly sure how he did it. All she knew was that out of the thousands of people streaming out of the stadium and the thousands of new ones crowding into the stadium, she and Draco were somehow spotted by the person that Ginny least wanted to see right then.
"Oh bollocks."
Ginny watched his face break into a smile upon recognizing her. The smile faded into confusion as he recognized her companion. The traditional ruddy complexion of the Weasley family morphed to purple, albeit a less intense shade of purple than it would have during their Hogwarts days. And then, of course, he made his way towards them, pushing through the milling people with an odd cross between anger and determination on his face.
Ginny pushed Draco hard to the side, aiming for the currently deserted area behind a nearby broom shed. "Go, Draco. Go!"
"You're not actually suggesting we run away from your brother." Draco's voice was incredulous. After the initial sidestep that had resulted from Ginny's moment, Draco had regained his balance and was now staidly refusing to move.
"No, I'm suggesting we have the inevitable confrontation in a slightly less public area." Ginny pushed again, and Draco refused to move again. "Come on, Draco. Please!"
Draco considered her, his interest looking vaguely piqued. "You'll explain this interesting move to me later?"
"Yes, now go!"
This time Draco acquiesced to her shoving and allowed her to guide him into the shadowy grass. It wasn't long before Ron reached them.
"Hello, Ron."
"Ginny, what are you-?"
Ginny interrupted quickly. "Did the Cannons win?"
"What?" Ron blinked, momentarily distracted. "Oh, of course not; it's the Cannons. Gin, why-?"
"That's too bad. I thought they had a shot with that new keeper of theirs."
"Jordan?"
Ginny smirked. It was just too easy. "Yeah. Didn't he come in with a 90% success rate?"
"His wife is having a baby so he was out today. His replacement isn't worth the retainer they pay to keep him."
"Oh. Damn reproduction."
"Yeah…" Ron looked lost for a moment and seemed to have forgotten his original reason for coming over. Draco's failure to suppress a snort brought an end to that. "Why are you with Malfoy?"
Ginny shot Draco a death glare. "Because we're on a date, so it seemed prudent to at least not shun his company the whole time."
Ron looked stunned. "Why?"
"Because when you go on a date with someone it's considered rude to find a different seat so you don't have to sit beside them."
"No, I mean why are you on a date with Malfoy?"
"Because I want to be, Ronald."
"Why?"
Ginny sighed. "Because I took a Bludger to the head and lost my memory, and when I woke up the first thing I saw was Malfoy so I figured he must be my one and only true love. We then proceeded to make passionate, unprotected love on the Quidditch field and I'm now pregnant with his albino baby, so he thought he'd at least take me on a couple of sham dates before making an honest woman of me."
Ron's mouth worked silently, his anger interfering with his ability to produce a witty comeback to combat Ginny's sarcasm.
"She's wearing your hat, too."
"Damn it, Draco!"
Ron found his voice again. "You're on a date with Malfoy and you stole my Cannons hat?"
Ginny was fairly certain Ron's emotional attachment to his Quidditch hat was fueling more of his anger than any sense of protectiveness for her. "Yes to both, though I'm feeling slightly more regret over one of those than the other at the moment."
"But it's Malfoy."
"I know it is, and I know you don't like it. I, however, have no problem with my being on a date with Malfoy, and it's my opinion that counts."
Ron gaped like a fish. "But… it's Malfoy."
Ginny sighed. "Ron, I think you need a little time to process this. We can talk about it like semi-rational adults later, maybe even get through it without either of our hands moving to 'mortal peril' on Mum's clock."
"Ginny-"
"Please, Ron."
Ron opened his mouth and then closed it again. "Fine. We'll talk later."
"Fine."
He had gotten almost to the apparition point when he turned back. "And I want that hat back! Don't let him get any ferret germs on it."
"Bye, Ron."
Ron glared but continued into the apparition section and apparated away. Ginny pulled off her hat and slapped Draco with it a few times.
"And there go the ferret germs. Your brother isn't going to want his hat back anymo-"
"You're an ass."
"I've been told." Draco tugged the hat from her fingers before she could hit him again. "The opportunity was too golden to pass up."
"Well, bask in the glow of that satisfaction good and long; it's the only afterglow or satisfaction you'll be getting tonight."
Draco's face contorted with a small frown that turned into a smirk a moment later. "So you're saying that if I hadn't toyed with your brother, I was going to get shagged tonight? God, Weasley, I'd have made a go at you when we were in school if I'd known you were such an easy lay. The gossip mill at Hogwarts made you out to be a prude."
"I wouldn't have come within ten feet of you without my dragon-skin gloves and a Bubblehead charm." Ginny began walking back toward the gates and the now-thinning crowd, trusting Draco would follow. "Rumor has it you slept with everything that wore Slytherin colors and had a vagina."
"Experience speaks for itself, Ginny." Draco was indeed following her, walking behind her purposefully to enjoy the view. "That means I'm an exceptionally good lay."
"Or a diseased one." Ginny turned around to walk backwards, fully aware he'd been ogling her backside and still feeling irritated enough to deprive him of that. "Honestly, Draco, one would think you'd be more careful about spreading around the family jewels, so to speak; hoards of little Malfoys could follow, and Merlin knows we only need one of those per generation."
"As opposed to little Weasels, who we obviously need roaming the halls of Hogwarts in quantities approaching the double-digits at any given time." Draco took longer strides to draw even with Ginny; there was no point in walking behind her if she wasn't going to let him enjoy the view. He turned her around to face forward, letting his hand linger on her shoulder for a moment longer than necessary. "Contrary to what you may have heard, a Malfoy exercises discretion in all aspects of his life, including sexual liaisons."
"You're backtracking." Ginny watched Draco out of the corner of her eye, shrugging off the tingling feeling his hand had left on her shoulder. Talking about sex made her more sensitive to even casual gestures. It had made dance lessons with Blaise awkward at times, that was for damn sure. "Trying to tell me you're not actually an exceptional lay after all?"
Draco smirked. "Quality over quantity, Weaslette. I am an exceptional lay and disease free."
"World's worst pickup lines for $500, Alex." Ginny smiled at her private joke, waving away Draco's inquisitive look. "It's from a Muggle television show. So tell me—do you always spend this much of a date discoursing on your sexual prowress?"
"My dates rarely remain fully clothed this long, so I really couldn't tell you." Draco nodded meaningfully toward the broom shed they had just walked away from. "Any other woman, for example, would have already seen the inside of that broom shed and tested the structural stability of at least one of the walls and probably the door."
Ginny chuckled in spite of herself, shaking her head in amazement. "Do you ever talk about anything other than sex?"
"Occasionally. I sometimes enjoy the subject of Quidditch." Draco glanced around. The swarm of people crowding into the stadium had thinned to a trickle of stragglers. "Speaking of which, we have two box seats anxiously awaiting our arrival. Seeing as they cost me the equivalent of a common man's life savings to procure on such short notice, it would be a shame to waste them. Shall we go in? Unless, of course, you're considering the broom shed proposal."
Ginny rolled her eyes but couldn't stop a smile from quirking the edges of her mouth. "Quidditch, please."
"That's probably for the best. Given your family's penchant for fertility, a wild broom shed romp would likely have resulted in the creation of the albino baby you were on about earlier. Now take this." Draco held out the hat gingerly with two fingers. "I can feel the used clothing germs spreading."
10 A Night at the Opera by Extreme Dancer
Chapter 10—A Night at the Opera
The ninth page of the book held the program for an opera dated six and a half years earlier.
Ginny heard the crack as Draco apparated into her living room. Smiling, she slipped on her shoes and took one last look in the mirror on the way out of her bedroom. Green was a good color on her. Draco always liked her in green; he claimed it made him forget she was a Gryffindor. From the smirk on his face every time she wore it, she was fairly certain he remembered all too well she was a Gryffindor and was just mentally congratulating himself on getting her into Slytherin colors.
"Hi."
Draco turned. His gaze flickered momentarily to her hair then traveled very slowly down her body. His eyes darkened, lingering on the curves the dress accentuated.
Ginny accepted his perusal in silence, waiting. The emerald green dress she had borrowed from Angelina was just a bit big, skimming lightly over her waist and small hips, neckline resting a bit lower on her breasts than was intended. The straps rested just barely on the outside of her shoulders, leaving a wide expanse of creamy skin exposed over her neck, collarbone, and chest. By the time Draco's gaze returned to hers he was already right in front of her, pushing her gently back until she was against the wall, face millimeters from hers.
"You're wearing green." His voice was barely above a whisper. His lips were on hers in the next second.
He kissed her slowly but deeply, body pressed firmly against hers. One hand cupped her neck, angling to get deeper into her mouth. His other hand ran down over the bare skin of her back, over the curve of her bum, and around to the side of her dress, tracing the curve up from her hip to her waist and grazing the side of her breast. When his finger very lightly traced her neckline down to the point and slipped inside, Ginny's breath caught. Draco's hands slowed, but he didn't pull back. He spoke softly, lips still lightly pressed against hers. "If we don't leave right now, we're not going to leave at all."
Ginny groaned softly and let her head fall softly back against the wall. She sighed, fingers toying idly with the fabric of Draco's shirt where it met the waistband of his pants. "I can think of worse ideas."
Draco leaned against Ginny, his head dropping into the nook where her bare neck met her collarbone. He very slowly lifted his head again, lips trailing from her shoulder up her jawbone. When they reached her ear, he spoke softly. "Later."
Ginny dug her fingers into his hips against the sudden pulse of blood that rushed between her legs at his whispered word. She held on tightly, taking a final moment to relish the pressure of his hips against hers. Reluctantly, she lightly pushed him away from her. "Let's go, then. I didn't spend all this time doing my hair to have you tear it apart."
Draco's gaze—still a bit dark from their brief seduction game—flickered to her hair again, but he said nothing as he handed her her wrap and pulled the door open. "Ladies first."
Draco held his peace all the way to the opera house and all the way inside. It wasn't until they were in their box with the curtain drawn behind them that he spoke. "Your hair is brown."
"Yes it is."
"Any particular reason?"
Ginny brushed a few strands of brown hair out of her face and smiled mischievously. "It clashed with my dress?"
"Of course." Draco guided Ginny to her seat with a hand in the small of her back. "Because it is a universally acknowledged fact that redheads are absolute rubbish in green."
Ginny sat carefully, shoulders back to keep the precarious neckline in place. "That was a rather sad attempt at a lie, I grant you."
Draco took his seat beside her. "I came up with better ones as a first year caught in the corridors after hours by Snape."
"That's an unfair example, seeing as you were his teacher's pet." Ginny's left opera glove slid down to her elbow. She tugged it back up, raising an eyebrow at Draco as she did. "He only pretended to believe you, and that doesn't count."
"Yes, but my lies were creative and so signified a more commendable effort." Draco's hands stopped hers. "What you just offered me was an embarrassment to the art of deception."
"I beg your pardon. I'll be sure to lie more convincingly next time." Ginny watched Draco straighten her glove for her, tugging it up to the proper height. "You're quite good with women's opera gloves. Anything you'd care to tell me?"
Draco smirked. "I've helped remove quite a few of them over the years."
Ginny's eyes flickered to Draco's. "Any plans to remove mine tonight?"
Draco traced a path on the bare skin between the top of her glove and the strap of her dress. "Of course."
Ginny shivered and looked away. An obviously annoyed young girl two boxes away caught her attention. "Does being here bring back happy memories from your childhood?"
Draco pulled his hand away from her arm and scoffed slightly. "I despised the opera."
The image of a glowering little Draco in child-sized dress robes plugging his ears and pouting danced into Ginny's head. She smirked. "Evidently your opinion as changed."
Draco looked at her. "I despise the opera."
"Then why are we here?"
"Women love the opera. Didn't you know?"
"I must have missed that memo."
Draco tugged at his right glove and looked at her sideways. "Obviously you're defective."
"You mean I'm a defector?"
"No. You're defective." Draco smirked and glanced around them, then back to Ginny. "Everyone I've ever dated has begged me for nights at the opera. You're sure you're a woman?"
Ginny glanced down at her cleavage. "The evidence seems fairly conclusive."
"Yes." Draco's eyes followed hers. They lingered on the exposed skin for a moment. "The verdict appears sound."
The lights flashed on and off three times.
"They're almost ready to start." Draco glanced at the curtain behind them lining the entrance to their box. "You really don't like opera?"
"I don't know." Ginny shrugged. "My childhood evenings were spent refereeing family Quidditch games, not listening to fat guys carrying on for an hour about being stabbed before they finally kick off. I've never spent a night at the opera in my life."
Draco sighed and pushed his cloak off his shoulders. "We'll have to stay, then. Far be it for me to deprive you of your first operatic experience."
"Not to mention you already paid for the tickets."
"There's that." Draco reached behind her to pull the wrap from her shoulders. "We'll have to break up soon. You're able to predict my moves far too accurately."
"I get a surly companion, a night at the opera, and a breakup? Be still, my beating heart."
"Yes, you're very lucky." The lights went down, and the orchestra started to play. Draco leaned over to whisper in Ginny's ear. "Prepare for the worst two hours of your life."
"That was the worst two hours of my life."
Draco smirked and held her wrap up for her. "I told you to prepare; evidently you don't listen. We can add that to your list of defects."
"And we'll add 'Has dreadfully bad taste in entertainment' to yours." Ginny pulled the wrap around her. "Is it wrong that I applauded when the main character died?"
"It was bad form, but justified." Draco pulled his cloak over his shoulders and pulled the curtain back, motioning her out of the box. "It was wrong that you tried to cast a Silencio on that chorus girl during her solo, though; it isn't her fault she's appalling."
"I was simply trying to make the opera a little more interesting. I expect it's boring for the performers to have no variety night after night." Ginny swept out of the box. She glanced back over her shoulder at her boyfriend. "I'm probably their new favorite audience member."
"I can't take you anywhere."
"You'd think that some of your boring qualities would have rubbed off on me by now, seeing as we've been together for six months. Apparently you're not a terribly good teacher."
"Or you just don't listen. I believe we've now come full circle."
Ginny scrunched up her face but didn't reply.
They made the trip back to her flat in silence. Once Ginny had kicked off her shoes—Draco had chosen to leave his on, thank you very much—they settled in on the couch with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
"You know, Blaise tried to take me to the opera once."
"Did he?" Draco's voice was mild. He expertly twisted in the corkscrew and pulled the stopper out of the wine bottle.
"He did. Said it would be an educational experience."
Draco poured the wine into one of the glasses. "You didn't go."
"No." Ginny accepted the glass from Draco. She took a sip. "He was terribly disappointed. Frankly, after tonight, I don't see why."
"You're a terrible liar." Draco's voice was conversational as he filled the second glass. "I was grateful for it during the opera as it distracted me from the atrocity onstage, but now it's becoming a bit trying."
Ginny paused mid-sip. "I'm sorry?"
"Blaise hates the opera, perhaps even more than I do; he only goes to the opera with women he's sleeping with." Draco set the bottle of wine down on her coffee table. He sat back and looked at her. "That's particularly interesting, since you told me you've always just been friends. I have to wonder why you'd bring him up at all, much less lie about it."
Ginny's heartbeat sped up very slightly. "I just thought-"
"For that matter, I'm also interested in knowing the real reason you changed your hair color and why you were evasive about that. Maybe it has something to do with why you never look quite like you when we go out in public?" Draco swirled his wine around the glass but didn't drink it. "Funny how the longer we date the more you lie."
Ginny took a long sip of wine. The hand holding the glass shook very slightly as it moved away from her lips. "Draco-"
"I'm beginning to wonder why we're dating at all."
Ginny's heart stopped.
Draco raised an eyebrow. He gestured for her to speak. "Well?"
"Well what? What do you want me to say?" Ginny took another long sip of wine, fighting to maintain her composure. She was reeling a bit trying to catch up with Draco's shift in moods. "If I've been lying so much, there's no reason for you to believe anything I say now."
Draco frowned. His eyes swept over Ginny's face. He tilted his head, considering. "That is not the reaction I was expecting."
Ginny raised her eyebrows. She set down her wine. An uncomfortable feeling of fear began climbing up her throat, mingling with the irritation already growing there. "What, you were expecting me to crumble and lay bare my soul?"
"I was expecting you to give a damn."
"I'm sorry, what's the problem here?" Draco's face blurred very slightly. Ginny wasn't sure when her eyes had become so wet. "You knew my job was sensitive when we started dating. You knew there are things I can't tell you."
"This isn't about your job; this is about Blaise."
"Who I work with. All of my dealings with Blaise are work-related, and that's all I can tell you." The first of the tears slipped from her eyes and slid down her cheeks. Ginny didn't know if they were from fear or anger. "If you can't handle that, there's the door."
Draco's face was impassive. He drained all of his wine in one go and set the glass down. He stood. "If you can't tell me why you're lying about your past with my best friend, then maybe I should walk through it."
Ginny's eyes narrowed through the tears. A vice-like hand clamped around her heart. She held his gaze. "Maybe you should."
Draco pulled his cloak on and fastened the silver clasp. He opened the door and walked through it without a backward glance. The door slowly swung shut behind him.
11 The Drunkenness of Angsty Purebloods by Extreme Dancer
Author's Notes:
I know, I suck massively. I've been busy slaving through my senior year of college, plus I've actually been in Fiction Writing Workshops, so I've been writing a lot for those. It has kind of burned me out :( A thousand apologies, and I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 11—The Drunkenness of Angsty Purebloods
From last time:
"This isn't about your job; this is about Blaise."
"Who I work with. All of my dealings with Blaise are work-related, and that's all I can tell you." The first of the tears slipped from her eyes and slid down her cheeks. Ginny didn't know if they were from fear or anger. "If you can't handle that, there's the door."
Draco's face was impassive. "If you can't tell me why you're lying about your past with my best friend, then maybe I should walk through it."
Ginny's eyes narrowed through the tears. A vice-like hand clamped around her heart. She held his gaze. "Maybe you should."
Draco pulled his cloak on and fastened the silver clasp. He opened the door and walked through it without a backward glance. The door slowly swung shut behind him.
Chapter 11:
"Ginny!"
Ginny's head jerked off the couch. She instantly regretted it when the room started spinning. She moaned and lay back down. "Why do you hate me, Blaise?"
The head in her fireplace snorted. "It's hardly my fault you can't hold your liquor."
Ginny's response was somewhere between a human groan and an angry cat. She groped blindly for a couch pillow and lobbed it in the general direction of the fireplace. "Stop shouting."
"Stop being a fire hazard."
Ginny blearily opened one eye. She squinted against the bright morning light. "What time is it?"
"Nearly eleven. I assumed you'd sleep late today."
The unexpected note of quiet in his voice broke through the layers of pain and nausea assaulting Ginny's senses. Cautiously, she pushed herself into a sitting position. "How did you know that?"
Blaise hesitated. His eyes flickered to the empty wine bottle prominently featured on the coffee table. "I had an interesting conversation with Draco late last night. Maybe conversation isn't the right word. He did all the talking."
Goosebumps broke out up and down Ginny's arms. She pulled the throw from the back of the couch around her. "What did he say?"
"Do you want the nice version or the real version?"
"Nice."
"He said you're all mine." Blaise watched for a reaction. "Something you want to tell me?"
"We're too good at our jobs?" Ginny sighed. Her head fell back against the couch. "Our cover is too convincing. He doesn't believe we're not involved, or weren't at some point involved, or something like that." Ginny gestured to the empty wine bottle. "The specifics are a little fuzzy."
"So he thinks we're both lying to him." Blaise scrubbed a hand down his face. He inhaled audibly. "What do you want to do?"
Ginny shrugged helplessly. "What can we do?"
Blaise was silent for a moment. "We could tell him the truth."
Ginny's bloodshot eyes met Blaise's fire-rimmed ones. That would be ideal, but… "You said yourself the more people that know the truth, the bigger the chance our cover will be blown."
"Our friendship, your relationship…" Blaise sighed from the fireplace. He looked at her. "Is it worth the risk?"
Ginny sat up slowly. She didn't hesitate. "Yes."
"I think so, too. Do it."
Two hangover potions and one battle with a hairbrush later, Ginny apparated into the front hall of Black Manor, where Draco had resided since its previous owners—Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange—had died in the final battle. Thankfully, it seemed the wards hadn't been changed—yet—to disallow her entrance. The house was quiet, the only sound the ticking of the large grandfather clock under the grand staircase.
"Miss Weasley!" The house elf's voice was squeakier than usual in its surprise. Under better conditions, Ginny might have found it funny. "Master is saying you wouldn't be coming."
"Surprise." Ginny brushed past the elf and started up the grand staircase. "I'm going to see him and I'm not taking no for an answer."
Somewhere between the foyer and Draco's study, the elf overtook her and scampered on ahead. By the time Ginny reached the heavy oak door, the elf had already knocked.
"Master." The elf pushed the door open and stepped inside. His voice was timid. "The Miss Weasley is here and says she is not taking no for answer."
Draco's audible sigh drifted through the open door to the hallway where Ginny was waiting. A long silence followed. When he spoke, his voice was dry and even. "Well, if she isn't taking no for an answer, by all means, let her in."
The scent of alcohol hit her hard as she stepped through the door. Draco sat behind his desk, hair slightly tousled, collar unbuttoned. He was wearing the same clothes from the night before. What looked like half the contents of his liquor cabinet adorned the desktop. Great. Drunk Draco was notoriously even harder to deal with than sober Draco.
Ginny tread lightly. "You've taken to drinking in the mornings?"
"Only on special occasions." Draco's voice held just a tinge of bitterness. He raised his glass in her direction. "To you."
At least his sense of humor was intact. Ginny walked carefully around his desk and perched on the edge, close but not too close. "What are you drinking?"
Draco eyed the amber-colored liquid in his tumbler. Not finding the answer there, he examined the bottles littering his desk. "I don't even know anymore."
Ginny leaned in and sniffed his glass. Brandy. His supply must be running low. Not surprising if he'd been drinking all night. "I hear you spoke with Blaise."
"I did." Draco swirled the brandy around in his glass. "I assume you did as well, since you're aware of that."
"I did." Ginny watched Draco closely, trying to gauge how intoxicated he really was. She didn't relish the thought of getting all the way through this only to find he didn't remember it tomorrow. Draco looked at her, eyebrows raised, and she got a good look at his eyes—bloodshot, but focused. "We decided to tell you the truth."
A pained expression crossed his face. Draco closed his eyes and turned away. "Just a moment." He tossed back the rest of his brandy and, somewhat unsteadily, selected a bottle at random and refilled the tumbler. "Go on."
Ginny acquiesced and told him about her job. That she was affiliated with both the English and French auror offices, that she was a go-between who hand-delivered sensitive information from Harry to Blaise and vice versa. How she had lunch with Harry and Ron once a week under the pretense of their old friendship and family ties, and left with the latest intel in her pocket. How men who ran dangerous and illegal business operations frequented the VIP room at Et Tout Cela Jazz where she worked undercover. How, in order to impress those men and charm information out of them, Blaise had gotten her that job and trained her in the different styles of dance she did there.
Draco snorted into his port. "Prick."
Ginny suppressed a smile. If only Blaise had been here to hear that. "The problem is that I didn't have an excuse to go to Blaise's office on a regular basis like I do Ron and Harry. Blaise and I weren't exactly friendly at school. Sex buddies was our solution."
Draco choked on his port. "I beg your pardon?"
Ginny smirked. "He's attractive, I'm attractive. We couldn't pass as friends, so we pretend to be together. It was a perfectly lovely arrangement until you came along. Obviously, if I'm supposed to be shagging Blaise, I can't be seen on dates with you. All it takes is one of the three of us to become tabloid fodder and my cover is blown."
Draco tapped a finger on the top of his desk. He turned his head slightly in her direction but didn't look at her. "So your constant state of dishevelment upon leaving his office, your absolute refusal to speak to anyone you know when we're in public…"
"Is all part of my cover," Ginny finished. She waited to see if he would say more. When he didn't, she continued. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner."
Draco was silent for a long moment. He smirked into his tumbler. "Well, this certainly explains some of Blaise's more pronounced oddities that have developed in the last six months. I thought he was developing Turrets the way he'd start a sentence about you and stop it suddenly."
Ginny smiled a little. "He really wanted to tell you. It was just… sensitive."
Draco's gaze dropped, seemingly involuntarily, to his left forearm. He tugged lightly at his sleeve. "I understand sensitive situations."
Ginny laid a hand on his arm, pressing lightly, soothingly, where she knew his Dark Mark was hidden. "There's one more thing." Ginny tapped Draco's arm lightly to be sure his alcohol-sodden brain was paying attention. She waited until his eyes met hers. "You have to trust me, Draco. Forget that we've been together for some time now; Blaise has been your best friend for years." Ginny paused to let this sink in. "How could you not trust him?"
Draco drew in a breath and opened his mouth. He closed it again. Wordlessly, he reached for her hand and tugged. She went willingly, letting him pull her gently into his lap. He pulled her head into his chest. "You're right." His alcohol-scented breath ruffled her hair. "I'm sorry. I should have trusted you, both of you."
Ginny smiled to herself. He must be drunker than she had realized to just come out and say it. She settled into his arms, burying her face in his neck and breathing in his scent. Eau de Purebloods-don't-sweat-like-normal-people. "Has this at least convinced you I might be a better liar than I let on?"
"Not particularly." Draco drained the last of his port and put the glass down. "You actually liked the opera, didn't you?"
Ginny smiled against his neck. "Maybe a little."
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.