Disclaimer – I don’t own any of the canon characters or concepts. Luc and Kate are mine.
CHAPTER 9 – Introducing the High Clan
Bastard. Manipulative, arrogant, smug, Slytherin bastard.
She couldn't believe he had done this to her. He'd deliberately manipulated her into this - had engaged her father, of all people, to do his work - and she knew what he was doing. He was flaunting his influence, flaunting his ability to pull strings, push buttons, and make people dance to his tune. Even supposedly incorruptible people like her father.
She thought that she'd had her fill of Slytherin manipulation after her adventures with Tom Riddle - the debacle with the diary, and in her sixth year, the plot that had almost managed to destroy Harry Potter – she had played a starring role in that, too. Needless to say, she had harboured a deep hatred for any sort of manipulation ever since, and now she was up to her neck in it, and sinking fast.
She didn't know what was going on and she didn't know whether she could trust Malfoy completely - whether he was telling her the whole truth or just carefully selected half-truths – she didn't know which way to turn, and to a forthright Gryffindor, no matter her small experience with Slytherins, it was distressing.
Who did she trust? Gerald, who was respectable, approachable, mild and trustworthy, with an impeccable reputation? A gentleman who understood her and her family, whom she could relate to because he was a normal man with a normal upbringing, nothing more, nothing less. Or Draco Malfoy, High Clan Lord with different values, different beliefs, and an entirely different background; he was a nobleman, not a gentleman (yes, there was a definite distinction) with a shadowy reputation and a history of deception, cruelty and ruthlessness.
But there had been something she hadn't quite liked in Gerald, the last time she had seen him - something barely glimpsed, nothing more than an impression of something dark and twisted, something rotten – but then he blinked, and it was gone. And she had convinced herself that she had imagined it - her sympathy for him prompting her to give him the benefit of the doubt. Why had he chosen to ally himself with ex-Death Eaters? Why was he saying such poisonous, libellous things against the High Clan, and why were his new allies, High Clan themselves, allowing him to?
Not for the first time, she wished she knew what was really going on below the surface, below the bare facts that Draco, in order to gain her sympathy and trust, had allowed her. She couldn't even trust herself - her body was betraying her, her mind playing tricks on her, as she found herself dwelling on Malfoy's scent and voice far more often than she should, found even her magic reaching for, craving, the cool touch of his power, smooth, sure and utterly confident, smelling slightly spicy, like sandalwood, with a tangible feeling of warmth, of wonderful, sensuous, touchable texture...
She shook her head. She was craving him, needing him and his touch and his voice and his magic. Incredulously, she recognised all the signs that pointed to the beginnings of a Bond – not a blood bond, between master and servant, lord and peasant, but an actual soul bond. But soul bonds were legends. Wonderful romantic devices for the old ballads and stories, they had no place in everyday reality, especially not in her everyday reality. She did not want to share soul bond with Malfoy, but she knew the exact moment it had been formed - and like most of the trouble in her life lately, it had begun when she'd lost her temper and sworn Blood Vow. The repercussions were more serious than she had thought.
Covertly, she looked at him from the corner of her eye. He was dressed to impress tonight, in rich silks and velvets - his face was utterly impassive, set in a calm, unreadable expression. There was no indication that he felt anything but boredom, that he regarded her as anything more than a pawn, an uncooperative pawn necessary for the success of his plan. No hint that he was beginning to crave her as she craved him, or that he found her in any way attractive or desirable. She didn't know why she was so offended at the thought of his not desiring her.
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He was dressed in his best formal evening clothes - the obligatory black robes, trimmed with discreet touches of silver and dark, dark green - with Ginevra's hand resting lightly on his arm; she herself was dressed in warm cream silk, her simmering resentment only heightening her beauty.
Accustomed since childhood to presenting himself, he knew the impression they created - cool, severe power and strength, a dramatic contrast to simple, elegant innocence - and he could not have been more pleased. But he doubted that Ginevra would share his satisfaction. He had, after all, all but compelled her into this.
He hoped that she would come around, after she'd met his aunt Kate and had a chance to talk to her. Everybody loved Kate; surprising, really, when one thought about it. Kate was a mudblood. She'd been sorted into Slytherin at the height of the anti-muggle prejudice in the 70s, and had learned quickly enough that if she were to survive her school years at all, she would need a protector - someone with enough power and credit to justify the relationship with a mudblood, but open minded enough to seriously consider it.
She'd settled on Luc, a Malfoy, but a bastard, and he had taken her under his protection, kept her safe from harm and ridicule, and had actually bonded with her, mind and body and soul - the strongest and most lasting bond the Malfoy could ever know, other than the Covenant. They called it the soul bond, and when it snapped, when one of the parties died, it backlashed on the other party with terrible consequences. Kate had mysteriously disappeared in their seventh year, the bond had snapped, and Luc Malfoy had lost all sense of balance and perspective; after that, Draco knew, everything had fallen apart.
Twelve years ago, she had come back. And Luc had jumped at his second chance. They had been inseparable ever since.
Becoming a Malfoy had not changed her overmuch - she still remembered what it was to be outside and apart from the High Clan - so he was hoping that Kate, in her cool, welcoming way, would talk to Ginny on his behalf. She was Slytherin enough, pragmatic enough, that she knew the necessity of his situation – she was also, much to Luc's amusement, somewhat unpredictable, which meant that she could end up taking Ginny's side, for all he knew.
Just as long as she kept the well being of the Malfoy in the back of her mind. It wasn't that Draco didn't like, or even love, his aunt, it was simply that she was completely and utterly loyal to Luc, and Luc alone - and Luc was a law unto himself. Draco greatly admired his uncle, but he didn't make the mistake of underestimating his power. When Luc Malfoy snapped his fingers, the whole world came to heel. The leader, if not the Lord, of the House of de Sauvigny, a global trading empire that spanned both the wizarding and the muggle worlds, Luc all but controlled the flow of trade through England, and had a huge influence on other countries beyond Britain. In his late forties now, he had been one of the major players in the Great Game for nearly thirty years - he was a consummate, supremely subtle manipulator with influence in every corner of society, and the only real rival to his supremacy was the Draco himself.
Happily for Draco's peace of mind, Luc had made it more than clear that he had no designs on the leadership of Clan Malfoy, and would, in fact, do everything he could in Draco's support, but still, it did no harm to be a little wary of him, anyway. Because there was a great deal of shadow and controversy surrounding the story of Lucien Brandon Malfoy, younger, bastard brother of Lucius, who had, by the age of twenty-one, assumed leadership of his mother's Clan by default - all the other contenders being dead, or bound by allegiance to him. Indeed, it had been very convenient, the way that all those who opposed Luc's bid for power had been slain by Death Eaters - people had talked, at first, until the House, realizing the strength of their new Lord, had rallied behind him and quashed the rumours.
They may not have liked him, or his methods, but they recognised strength when they saw it, and brilliance - unlike the legitimate heirs, Luc Malfoy could take the House to heights previously undreamed of, and what was a shadowy past, mere suspicion, when compared to what he could do for them? He had never been brought to trial, or even arrested. His record was clean - he was a model member of society, and he had the influence to back up his arrogance.
And, together with Lucius, he had taught Draco everything he knew.
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Ginny had heard the stories about Luc Malfoy - the good, and the bad - and had had him as a Defence teacher for one year at Hogwarts, but she couldn't claim that she knew him at all. All she did know was that he was very powerful, very influential, and very charming, but suspected that the charm was a cover for something deeper, much like Draco. She didn't care what her father had said, she had no desire to have dinner with a man that Draco was wary of – not that he had ever said it, of course, but it was there, quite easy to see, now that she seemed to be able to read him even with his blank mask.
Unlike Percy, Ginny had no interest in politics and even less ambition - she would much rather have stayed home, but her father had persuaded her that this was necessary.
Huh. Necessary. For him, perhaps, but not for her. Personally, she couldn't care less.
And there was their host, Luc Malfoy himself, turning around, his jet black hair (so different from Draco's) glinting in the light of the chandelier, his features thrown into strong relief, exposing the resemblance between them, the brilliance of his eyes veiled for once, so that she saw the sheer physical beauty first, and not the personality, not the will and the force of the man.
He smiled, and the force of his charm lit up the room. "My lord Malfoy, welcome to my home." He bowed his head respectfully, and Draco bowed in return, not as deeply because he outranked Luc. Ginny, awkward and unsure, bowed her head as Draco had - catching a small gleam of amusement in the woman standing next to Luc's eyes. "And Miss Weasley," purred their host. "Welcome. This is my wife Katherine," he indicated the woman, dark haired and green eyed and quite beautiful.
They made polite small talk for a while, and then uncle and nephew turned to each other and began to talk of esoteric business mysteries, effectively excluding their companions. Ginny found herself looking into Katherine Malfoy's green eyes, half-laughing and half-rueful, and smiling in return, helpless to resist their charm and appeal. Somehow, and she wasn't quite sure how it had happened so quickly, she found herself seated on a lounge with a glass of wine, unburdening herself to Katherine as she spilled the whole story of her involvement in this mess. The older woman, who insisted she call her Kate, was an excellent listener, and Ginny found herself sharing a good deal more than she had intended to.
"So," Kate summed up lightly, "you fear that you are bonding to him, but you are still wary of him, of his motives, of the game he plays..."
Ginny nodded. "I wish I knew what was going on. If I knew what was happening, I might be able to understand his actions, might be able to see whether they're justified – I might even be able to put all this into perspective."
Kate laughed softly, her eyes amused. "Miss Weasley," she put a light hand on her shoulder, looked her straight in the eyes. "Do you truly want to know what is going on, what he is planning? Do you not trust him, even now?"
Ginny scowled. "If his plans include me, then don't I have a right to know what's going on? And as for trusting him - why should I? He's Draco Malfoy. He's a Slytherin. He's slippery and cunning and ruthless..." she trailed off.
Kate's eyes were serious now. "Yes, he's a Slytherin. Yes, he's cunning and ruthless and ambitious - but all that ambition, all that intelligence, is bent towards the well being of his House, of his people. You know that?" Ginny nodded. "And sometimes, the Lord must keep some things to himself, carry that burden alone."
Ginny looked frankly at her. "Do you ever let Luc keep things from you? Do you let him carry his burden alone?"
The green eyes gleamed in lazy amusement. "No. But, despite all my efforts, he does keep some things from me - it's part and parcel of being Malfoy, so I believe. Some things they simply won't share, because they believe we would be soiled by it, even though we're soul bonded." Her eyes laughed outright at the look on Ginny's face, then she looked thoughtful. "But we were separated for twenty years, Miss Weasley - we grew apart, grew different, in that absence. Perhaps that may have something to do with it."
Ginny could be extremely stubborn when she wished to be. "Yes, but this is different." She looked at Kate almost apologetically. "No offence, but you were conditioned to play the submissive role from the beginning, because you relied on him, depended on him; I don't have to do that. I don't have to accept that. I am a Gryffindor, and I will not give up unless I get what I want."
There was no anger in Kate's eyes, only a very frank enquiry. "What do you want, then?"
She opened her mouth, hesitated. "I want – I want him to confide in me. If I'm going to cooperate in this at all, then I want to be an equal partner and not a pawn. I want to know what's going on, and what he intends to do about it before he puts it into action. I want to be able to trust him, and I can't do that if I'm watching him, wary of his manipulating me."
"You want him to trust you," Kate said slowly.
"We have to trust each other, I think - otherwise, we won't be able to work together at all." This - this was what she wanted. Well, apart from the physical craving that she would not, would not talk about or even think about.
Kate sighed. "I think he already does trust you a little, otherwise he would never have brought you this far in, but that kind of trust...it doesn't come easily, you know. Not to High Clan Slytherins, especially not to Clan Lords."
She scowled determinedly. "He'll have to learn then, won't he? Because unless we share full and mutual trust, I will continue to make things difficult for him. And believe me, I can cause a lot of trouble when I put my mind to it."
Kate watched the young woman, so innocent despite the occasional flashes of knowledge or cynicism in her eyes, and felt an odd feeling of rightness well up inside her, from the part of her she had learned to trust and pay heed to. She had courage, this Ginevra Weasley, and intelligence - perhaps she would indeed be strong enough to stand beside Draco and share his burdens and his path – if they didn't kill each other first, and if they survived the coming storm.
Trust would not come easily, but once it did, it would be irrevocable - and as for the physical intimacy, well, that was inevitable, she could see it already, in the way she looked at Draco, in the way he looked at her. They were bonding - a difficult process, with a great many pitfalls, but one that would ultimately result in a very strong, united front, if they survived.
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Luc watched his wife and Miss Weasley exchange secrets and confidences with a slightly amused eye. He saw Draco's wariness at what they might be saying, and smiled cynically. Evidently the attachment was deeper than he would like to think, and the troubles a little more serious than he had intimated, if he was worrying about what the women were coming up with.
He could see the signs already - the increased level of Draco's magic, the frequent, slightly resentful looks over at young Ginevra, the almost absent daydreams. Lady! To be ambushed by love at such a critical time. This was no time for broken concentration - but Draco knew that, and was at least making an effort to concentrate seriously on what he was saying.
Gerald's mysterious backers, who had taken the disgraced banker in after his departure from Gringott's, were all of them familiar names, familiar faces. Crabbe. Goyle. Parkinson (who had gone back to her maiden name after her fourth husband died and left her everything). Wilkes. Flint. All the relatives of the Death Eaters whose execution he had ordered and Luc had personally carried out. Others were neutral, and would wait for further indication and developments before committing to any one side - or there were some who would not commit at all, who were chronic fence sitters notorious for their indifference. The fence sitters were only a small danger; the undecided and the indecisive would have to be persuaded to come to their side, or be eliminated. And others were firmly on the side of the Malfoy - himself, and the de Sauvigny, as well as his closest friends and allies such as Lestrange, Avery, Courtney, Andahni – and Snape as well, although Luc's relationship with Snape was slightly ambivalent.
While it was a serious matter for those involved, it should have remained an internal conflict within the High Clan, with no real repercussions for the rest of society now that the Dark Lord was gone and there was no one to take advantage of the absence of Malfoy protection. But in bringing the media into it, turning it into a crusade for social reform, the mysterious opponents who stood against them had involved the rest of the wizarding world. And that had introduced a number of unexpected elements into the game, and had changed the whole complexion of it – now, instead of being a game of bluff and dominance, the involvement of the Ministry meant Azkaban was now an option, public opinion had given people with no concept of what was really going on a say and, indeed, some influence over the events...
It had unbalanced the scales, and made everything immeasurably more difficult. And now Draco was falling for a Weasley - and that was the wildcard that would win them the whole game, or break them beyond repair. Especially if Draco refused to give her what she really wanted.
"I suspect she wants to be able to trust you," he said neutrally, following Draco's gaze over to Miss Weasley once more. "And to be trusted in return."
Draco looked at her, a slight frown in his eyes. "She should know enough to trust me by now."
Luc raised an eyebrow. "What have you done for her? You've upset her well ordered, safe life, ruined her reputation and her relationship with Gerald, and you’ve dragged her into a twisted, Slytherin plot without her permission."
"I showed her the truth of her foolish, boring banker, and I gave her the courage to go through with her transformation. She was looking for notoriety anyway. And as for the plot – she would have been part of it, with or without my involvement."
Luc sighed. "But that's not what she thinks, Draco. She still thinks of you as the Draco Malfoy from Hogwarts, who would cause trouble simply for the sake of it. You have to convince her that you are worthy of her trust, that you can bring her safely through this mess – and, as well as that, you have to show her that you trust her in turn."
Draco's eyes narrowed fractionally, and he turned to face Luc. "Matchmaking, are you?" he asked blandly.
Luc only smiled a little grimly. "You can't afford to be distracted at a time like this, Draco. You need to act - and if the only way to gain her and her family's willing cooperation is by finalizing the bond between you," he looked at Draco with serious eyes, "then bind her to you as firmly and irrevocably as you can."
Draco's eyes lit with unvoiced laughter. "Her brothers will kill me."
Luc placed a hand briefly on his nephew's shoulder. "Trust and sex, Draco. As soon as possible."
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It was an educational night. She had held her own over dinner, but to a woman who had no interest whatsoever in politics or trade, and no knowledge of how they worked, the discussion in the drawing room over brandy and tea had been incomprehensible, at first - until Draco, perhaps sensing that she had no idea what was going on, had quietly whispered a running commentary in her ear. He was a surprisingly good teacher, able to break things down to the simplest possible terms - she had a feeling he had simplified quite a lot of things - but to a novice, thrown in at the deep end with no preparation, it had covered the essential facts.
No one found it odd that she didn't contribute, anyway - they knew she was a Weasley, and that explained everything. She wondered why he was being so helpful, why he was suddenly sharing his knowledge with her. And then, immediately contrite, she banished the unworthy, entirely Slytherin suspicion from her mind. But it refused to leave completely, rather like the slight buzz and the drifting feeling she had from her three glasses of champagne.
Surprisingly enough, both men and women participated equally in the discussion - wives and husbands both, although the wives did tend to defer, just a little. There seemed to be a fair bit of sexual equality among the High Clan (she hadn't known that before), and she saw Luc and Kate's relationship in a different light. They were partners, equal partners, but society itself painted their marriage differently - stereotyping them as submissive mudblood and dominant High Clan Lord.
She wished she could apologise to Kate for what she had said before. Because that was what she wanted - well, not a marriage (sweet Lady, what a thought - she must have drunk more than she should have) but a partnership, where they both discussed the issue before deciding on a mutually satisfactory solution.
Yes, that would be good. And now, as he walked her home, his hair shining in the moonlight, his heady scent tantalizing her, making her head spin, she began to think it might be possible after all. He was Draco Malfoy, yes, but he was...different...from the wretched brat he had once been. He was a fully mature adult male now, and she was fully aware of it. He was even, in a slightly highhanded manner, rather nice...
She stopped and turned around, looking up at his face in the light. "Draco?" she murmured, slightly huskily.
He looked down at her, his hands resting lightly on her waist. "Hmmm?" he asked, seemingly distracted.
"I want," she licked her lips and didn't see the intent narrowing of his eyes, "I want us to be partners."
She couldn't see him, but knew he raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were already partners."
"Yes," she said, a little distracted by his warmth and the smell of sandalwood, "but equal partners trust each other, tell each other everything..."
"Oh?" he moved closer, subtly invading her personal space. She drew back so she could get some air, but came up hard against his arm. Startled, her eyes flew up to his - saw the intent, glittering silver.
She swallowed nervously. "I think – I think this isn't going to work until we share complete and mutual trust..."
His head dipped closer to hers, and suddenly she felt a slight tingle of anticipation, and maybe even fear. He was so close… He whispered in her ear, "You already trust me, Ginevra."
"I do?" she repeated dazedly.
"Yes," he whispered, coming even closer, "you do." He touched his lips to hers, briefly brushing over them, skimming over her cheekbone and coming back. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to turn her head, to open her mouth fractionally, and to accept the drowsy pleasure of his touch. She knew he wouldn't hurt her – she did trust him, after all...
Draco forced himself to keep it light, keep it gentle and undemanding, non-threatening, but the more he kissed her, the sweeter she tasted, and the more addictive the pleasure became. But she trusted him. And, by the Lady, he was damned if he would jeopardize that trust, not now, not when it was new and fragile and he was standing outside her parents' house, of all places – and not when she was more than a little tipsy. She wouldn't have let him come near her, otherwise. In the end, it was the thought of Molly Weasley waiting up for her youngest fledgling, no doubt even peering out the window and watching them, that gave him the strength to let go. He most definitely didn't want to have that woman angry with him.
Not when things were coming along so nicely.
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CHAPTER 9 – Introducing the High Clan
Bastard. Manipulative, arrogant, smug, Slytherin bastard.
She couldn't believe he had done this to her. He'd deliberately manipulated her into this - had engaged her father, of all people, to do his work - and she knew what he was doing. He was flaunting his influence, flaunting his ability to pull strings, push buttons, and make people dance to his tune. Even supposedly incorruptible people like her father.
She thought that she'd had her fill of Slytherin manipulation after her adventures with Tom Riddle - the debacle with the diary, and in her sixth year, the plot that had almost managed to destroy Harry Potter – she had played a starring role in that, too. Needless to say, she had harboured a deep hatred for any sort of manipulation ever since, and now she was up to her neck in it, and sinking fast.
She didn't know what was going on and she didn't know whether she could trust Malfoy completely - whether he was telling her the whole truth or just carefully selected half-truths – she didn't know which way to turn, and to a forthright Gryffindor, no matter her small experience with Slytherins, it was distressing.
Who did she trust? Gerald, who was respectable, approachable, mild and trustworthy, with an impeccable reputation? A gentleman who understood her and her family, whom she could relate to because he was a normal man with a normal upbringing, nothing more, nothing less. Or Draco Malfoy, High Clan Lord with different values, different beliefs, and an entirely different background; he was a nobleman, not a gentleman (yes, there was a definite distinction) with a shadowy reputation and a history of deception, cruelty and ruthlessness.
But there had been something she hadn't quite liked in Gerald, the last time she had seen him - something barely glimpsed, nothing more than an impression of something dark and twisted, something rotten – but then he blinked, and it was gone. And she had convinced herself that she had imagined it - her sympathy for him prompting her to give him the benefit of the doubt. Why had he chosen to ally himself with ex-Death Eaters? Why was he saying such poisonous, libellous things against the High Clan, and why were his new allies, High Clan themselves, allowing him to?
Not for the first time, she wished she knew what was really going on below the surface, below the bare facts that Draco, in order to gain her sympathy and trust, had allowed her. She couldn't even trust herself - her body was betraying her, her mind playing tricks on her, as she found herself dwelling on Malfoy's scent and voice far more often than she should, found even her magic reaching for, craving, the cool touch of his power, smooth, sure and utterly confident, smelling slightly spicy, like sandalwood, with a tangible feeling of warmth, of wonderful, sensuous, touchable texture...
She shook her head. She was craving him, needing him and his touch and his voice and his magic. Incredulously, she recognised all the signs that pointed to the beginnings of a Bond – not a blood bond, between master and servant, lord and peasant, but an actual soul bond. But soul bonds were legends. Wonderful romantic devices for the old ballads and stories, they had no place in everyday reality, especially not in her everyday reality. She did not want to share soul bond with Malfoy, but she knew the exact moment it had been formed - and like most of the trouble in her life lately, it had begun when she'd lost her temper and sworn Blood Vow. The repercussions were more serious than she had thought.
Covertly, she looked at him from the corner of her eye. He was dressed to impress tonight, in rich silks and velvets - his face was utterly impassive, set in a calm, unreadable expression. There was no indication that he felt anything but boredom, that he regarded her as anything more than a pawn, an uncooperative pawn necessary for the success of his plan. No hint that he was beginning to crave her as she craved him, or that he found her in any way attractive or desirable. She didn't know why she was so offended at the thought of his not desiring her.
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He was dressed in his best formal evening clothes - the obligatory black robes, trimmed with discreet touches of silver and dark, dark green - with Ginevra's hand resting lightly on his arm; she herself was dressed in warm cream silk, her simmering resentment only heightening her beauty.
Accustomed since childhood to presenting himself, he knew the impression they created - cool, severe power and strength, a dramatic contrast to simple, elegant innocence - and he could not have been more pleased. But he doubted that Ginevra would share his satisfaction. He had, after all, all but compelled her into this.
He hoped that she would come around, after she'd met his aunt Kate and had a chance to talk to her. Everybody loved Kate; surprising, really, when one thought about it. Kate was a mudblood. She'd been sorted into Slytherin at the height of the anti-muggle prejudice in the 70s, and had learned quickly enough that if she were to survive her school years at all, she would need a protector - someone with enough power and credit to justify the relationship with a mudblood, but open minded enough to seriously consider it.
She'd settled on Luc, a Malfoy, but a bastard, and he had taken her under his protection, kept her safe from harm and ridicule, and had actually bonded with her, mind and body and soul - the strongest and most lasting bond the Malfoy could ever know, other than the Covenant. They called it the soul bond, and when it snapped, when one of the parties died, it backlashed on the other party with terrible consequences. Kate had mysteriously disappeared in their seventh year, the bond had snapped, and Luc Malfoy had lost all sense of balance and perspective; after that, Draco knew, everything had fallen apart.
Twelve years ago, she had come back. And Luc had jumped at his second chance. They had been inseparable ever since.
Becoming a Malfoy had not changed her overmuch - she still remembered what it was to be outside and apart from the High Clan - so he was hoping that Kate, in her cool, welcoming way, would talk to Ginny on his behalf. She was Slytherin enough, pragmatic enough, that she knew the necessity of his situation – she was also, much to Luc's amusement, somewhat unpredictable, which meant that she could end up taking Ginny's side, for all he knew.
Just as long as she kept the well being of the Malfoy in the back of her mind. It wasn't that Draco didn't like, or even love, his aunt, it was simply that she was completely and utterly loyal to Luc, and Luc alone - and Luc was a law unto himself. Draco greatly admired his uncle, but he didn't make the mistake of underestimating his power. When Luc Malfoy snapped his fingers, the whole world came to heel. The leader, if not the Lord, of the House of de Sauvigny, a global trading empire that spanned both the wizarding and the muggle worlds, Luc all but controlled the flow of trade through England, and had a huge influence on other countries beyond Britain. In his late forties now, he had been one of the major players in the Great Game for nearly thirty years - he was a consummate, supremely subtle manipulator with influence in every corner of society, and the only real rival to his supremacy was the Draco himself.
Happily for Draco's peace of mind, Luc had made it more than clear that he had no designs on the leadership of Clan Malfoy, and would, in fact, do everything he could in Draco's support, but still, it did no harm to be a little wary of him, anyway. Because there was a great deal of shadow and controversy surrounding the story of Lucien Brandon Malfoy, younger, bastard brother of Lucius, who had, by the age of twenty-one, assumed leadership of his mother's Clan by default - all the other contenders being dead, or bound by allegiance to him. Indeed, it had been very convenient, the way that all those who opposed Luc's bid for power had been slain by Death Eaters - people had talked, at first, until the House, realizing the strength of their new Lord, had rallied behind him and quashed the rumours.
They may not have liked him, or his methods, but they recognised strength when they saw it, and brilliance - unlike the legitimate heirs, Luc Malfoy could take the House to heights previously undreamed of, and what was a shadowy past, mere suspicion, when compared to what he could do for them? He had never been brought to trial, or even arrested. His record was clean - he was a model member of society, and he had the influence to back up his arrogance.
And, together with Lucius, he had taught Draco everything he knew.
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Ginny had heard the stories about Luc Malfoy - the good, and the bad - and had had him as a Defence teacher for one year at Hogwarts, but she couldn't claim that she knew him at all. All she did know was that he was very powerful, very influential, and very charming, but suspected that the charm was a cover for something deeper, much like Draco. She didn't care what her father had said, she had no desire to have dinner with a man that Draco was wary of – not that he had ever said it, of course, but it was there, quite easy to see, now that she seemed to be able to read him even with his blank mask.
Unlike Percy, Ginny had no interest in politics and even less ambition - she would much rather have stayed home, but her father had persuaded her that this was necessary.
Huh. Necessary. For him, perhaps, but not for her. Personally, she couldn't care less.
And there was their host, Luc Malfoy himself, turning around, his jet black hair (so different from Draco's) glinting in the light of the chandelier, his features thrown into strong relief, exposing the resemblance between them, the brilliance of his eyes veiled for once, so that she saw the sheer physical beauty first, and not the personality, not the will and the force of the man.
He smiled, and the force of his charm lit up the room. "My lord Malfoy, welcome to my home." He bowed his head respectfully, and Draco bowed in return, not as deeply because he outranked Luc. Ginny, awkward and unsure, bowed her head as Draco had - catching a small gleam of amusement in the woman standing next to Luc's eyes. "And Miss Weasley," purred their host. "Welcome. This is my wife Katherine," he indicated the woman, dark haired and green eyed and quite beautiful.
They made polite small talk for a while, and then uncle and nephew turned to each other and began to talk of esoteric business mysteries, effectively excluding their companions. Ginny found herself looking into Katherine Malfoy's green eyes, half-laughing and half-rueful, and smiling in return, helpless to resist their charm and appeal. Somehow, and she wasn't quite sure how it had happened so quickly, she found herself seated on a lounge with a glass of wine, unburdening herself to Katherine as she spilled the whole story of her involvement in this mess. The older woman, who insisted she call her Kate, was an excellent listener, and Ginny found herself sharing a good deal more than she had intended to.
"So," Kate summed up lightly, "you fear that you are bonding to him, but you are still wary of him, of his motives, of the game he plays..."
Ginny nodded. "I wish I knew what was going on. If I knew what was happening, I might be able to understand his actions, might be able to see whether they're justified – I might even be able to put all this into perspective."
Kate laughed softly, her eyes amused. "Miss Weasley," she put a light hand on her shoulder, looked her straight in the eyes. "Do you truly want to know what is going on, what he is planning? Do you not trust him, even now?"
Ginny scowled. "If his plans include me, then don't I have a right to know what's going on? And as for trusting him - why should I? He's Draco Malfoy. He's a Slytherin. He's slippery and cunning and ruthless..." she trailed off.
Kate's eyes were serious now. "Yes, he's a Slytherin. Yes, he's cunning and ruthless and ambitious - but all that ambition, all that intelligence, is bent towards the well being of his House, of his people. You know that?" Ginny nodded. "And sometimes, the Lord must keep some things to himself, carry that burden alone."
Ginny looked frankly at her. "Do you ever let Luc keep things from you? Do you let him carry his burden alone?"
The green eyes gleamed in lazy amusement. "No. But, despite all my efforts, he does keep some things from me - it's part and parcel of being Malfoy, so I believe. Some things they simply won't share, because they believe we would be soiled by it, even though we're soul bonded." Her eyes laughed outright at the look on Ginny's face, then she looked thoughtful. "But we were separated for twenty years, Miss Weasley - we grew apart, grew different, in that absence. Perhaps that may have something to do with it."
Ginny could be extremely stubborn when she wished to be. "Yes, but this is different." She looked at Kate almost apologetically. "No offence, but you were conditioned to play the submissive role from the beginning, because you relied on him, depended on him; I don't have to do that. I don't have to accept that. I am a Gryffindor, and I will not give up unless I get what I want."
There was no anger in Kate's eyes, only a very frank enquiry. "What do you want, then?"
She opened her mouth, hesitated. "I want – I want him to confide in me. If I'm going to cooperate in this at all, then I want to be an equal partner and not a pawn. I want to know what's going on, and what he intends to do about it before he puts it into action. I want to be able to trust him, and I can't do that if I'm watching him, wary of his manipulating me."
"You want him to trust you," Kate said slowly.
"We have to trust each other, I think - otherwise, we won't be able to work together at all." This - this was what she wanted. Well, apart from the physical craving that she would not, would not talk about or even think about.
Kate sighed. "I think he already does trust you a little, otherwise he would never have brought you this far in, but that kind of trust...it doesn't come easily, you know. Not to High Clan Slytherins, especially not to Clan Lords."
She scowled determinedly. "He'll have to learn then, won't he? Because unless we share full and mutual trust, I will continue to make things difficult for him. And believe me, I can cause a lot of trouble when I put my mind to it."
Kate watched the young woman, so innocent despite the occasional flashes of knowledge or cynicism in her eyes, and felt an odd feeling of rightness well up inside her, from the part of her she had learned to trust and pay heed to. She had courage, this Ginevra Weasley, and intelligence - perhaps she would indeed be strong enough to stand beside Draco and share his burdens and his path – if they didn't kill each other first, and if they survived the coming storm.
Trust would not come easily, but once it did, it would be irrevocable - and as for the physical intimacy, well, that was inevitable, she could see it already, in the way she looked at Draco, in the way he looked at her. They were bonding - a difficult process, with a great many pitfalls, but one that would ultimately result in a very strong, united front, if they survived.
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Luc watched his wife and Miss Weasley exchange secrets and confidences with a slightly amused eye. He saw Draco's wariness at what they might be saying, and smiled cynically. Evidently the attachment was deeper than he would like to think, and the troubles a little more serious than he had intimated, if he was worrying about what the women were coming up with.
He could see the signs already - the increased level of Draco's magic, the frequent, slightly resentful looks over at young Ginevra, the almost absent daydreams. Lady! To be ambushed by love at such a critical time. This was no time for broken concentration - but Draco knew that, and was at least making an effort to concentrate seriously on what he was saying.
Gerald's mysterious backers, who had taken the disgraced banker in after his departure from Gringott's, were all of them familiar names, familiar faces. Crabbe. Goyle. Parkinson (who had gone back to her maiden name after her fourth husband died and left her everything). Wilkes. Flint. All the relatives of the Death Eaters whose execution he had ordered and Luc had personally carried out. Others were neutral, and would wait for further indication and developments before committing to any one side - or there were some who would not commit at all, who were chronic fence sitters notorious for their indifference. The fence sitters were only a small danger; the undecided and the indecisive would have to be persuaded to come to their side, or be eliminated. And others were firmly on the side of the Malfoy - himself, and the de Sauvigny, as well as his closest friends and allies such as Lestrange, Avery, Courtney, Andahni – and Snape as well, although Luc's relationship with Snape was slightly ambivalent.
While it was a serious matter for those involved, it should have remained an internal conflict within the High Clan, with no real repercussions for the rest of society now that the Dark Lord was gone and there was no one to take advantage of the absence of Malfoy protection. But in bringing the media into it, turning it into a crusade for social reform, the mysterious opponents who stood against them had involved the rest of the wizarding world. And that had introduced a number of unexpected elements into the game, and had changed the whole complexion of it – now, instead of being a game of bluff and dominance, the involvement of the Ministry meant Azkaban was now an option, public opinion had given people with no concept of what was really going on a say and, indeed, some influence over the events...
It had unbalanced the scales, and made everything immeasurably more difficult. And now Draco was falling for a Weasley - and that was the wildcard that would win them the whole game, or break them beyond repair. Especially if Draco refused to give her what she really wanted.
"I suspect she wants to be able to trust you," he said neutrally, following Draco's gaze over to Miss Weasley once more. "And to be trusted in return."
Draco looked at her, a slight frown in his eyes. "She should know enough to trust me by now."
Luc raised an eyebrow. "What have you done for her? You've upset her well ordered, safe life, ruined her reputation and her relationship with Gerald, and you’ve dragged her into a twisted, Slytherin plot without her permission."
"I showed her the truth of her foolish, boring banker, and I gave her the courage to go through with her transformation. She was looking for notoriety anyway. And as for the plot – she would have been part of it, with or without my involvement."
Luc sighed. "But that's not what she thinks, Draco. She still thinks of you as the Draco Malfoy from Hogwarts, who would cause trouble simply for the sake of it. You have to convince her that you are worthy of her trust, that you can bring her safely through this mess – and, as well as that, you have to show her that you trust her in turn."
Draco's eyes narrowed fractionally, and he turned to face Luc. "Matchmaking, are you?" he asked blandly.
Luc only smiled a little grimly. "You can't afford to be distracted at a time like this, Draco. You need to act - and if the only way to gain her and her family's willing cooperation is by finalizing the bond between you," he looked at Draco with serious eyes, "then bind her to you as firmly and irrevocably as you can."
Draco's eyes lit with unvoiced laughter. "Her brothers will kill me."
Luc placed a hand briefly on his nephew's shoulder. "Trust and sex, Draco. As soon as possible."
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It was an educational night. She had held her own over dinner, but to a woman who had no interest whatsoever in politics or trade, and no knowledge of how they worked, the discussion in the drawing room over brandy and tea had been incomprehensible, at first - until Draco, perhaps sensing that she had no idea what was going on, had quietly whispered a running commentary in her ear. He was a surprisingly good teacher, able to break things down to the simplest possible terms - she had a feeling he had simplified quite a lot of things - but to a novice, thrown in at the deep end with no preparation, it had covered the essential facts.
No one found it odd that she didn't contribute, anyway - they knew she was a Weasley, and that explained everything. She wondered why he was being so helpful, why he was suddenly sharing his knowledge with her. And then, immediately contrite, she banished the unworthy, entirely Slytherin suspicion from her mind. But it refused to leave completely, rather like the slight buzz and the drifting feeling she had from her three glasses of champagne.
Surprisingly enough, both men and women participated equally in the discussion - wives and husbands both, although the wives did tend to defer, just a little. There seemed to be a fair bit of sexual equality among the High Clan (she hadn't known that before), and she saw Luc and Kate's relationship in a different light. They were partners, equal partners, but society itself painted their marriage differently - stereotyping them as submissive mudblood and dominant High Clan Lord.
She wished she could apologise to Kate for what she had said before. Because that was what she wanted - well, not a marriage (sweet Lady, what a thought - she must have drunk more than she should have) but a partnership, where they both discussed the issue before deciding on a mutually satisfactory solution.
Yes, that would be good. And now, as he walked her home, his hair shining in the moonlight, his heady scent tantalizing her, making her head spin, she began to think it might be possible after all. He was Draco Malfoy, yes, but he was...different...from the wretched brat he had once been. He was a fully mature adult male now, and she was fully aware of it. He was even, in a slightly highhanded manner, rather nice...
She stopped and turned around, looking up at his face in the light. "Draco?" she murmured, slightly huskily.
He looked down at her, his hands resting lightly on her waist. "Hmmm?" he asked, seemingly distracted.
"I want," she licked her lips and didn't see the intent narrowing of his eyes, "I want us to be partners."
She couldn't see him, but knew he raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were already partners."
"Yes," she said, a little distracted by his warmth and the smell of sandalwood, "but equal partners trust each other, tell each other everything..."
"Oh?" he moved closer, subtly invading her personal space. She drew back so she could get some air, but came up hard against his arm. Startled, her eyes flew up to his - saw the intent, glittering silver.
She swallowed nervously. "I think – I think this isn't going to work until we share complete and mutual trust..."
His head dipped closer to hers, and suddenly she felt a slight tingle of anticipation, and maybe even fear. He was so close… He whispered in her ear, "You already trust me, Ginevra."
"I do?" she repeated dazedly.
"Yes," he whispered, coming even closer, "you do." He touched his lips to hers, briefly brushing over them, skimming over her cheekbone and coming back. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to turn her head, to open her mouth fractionally, and to accept the drowsy pleasure of his touch. She knew he wouldn't hurt her – she did trust him, after all...
Draco forced himself to keep it light, keep it gentle and undemanding, non-threatening, but the more he kissed her, the sweeter she tasted, and the more addictive the pleasure became. But she trusted him. And, by the Lady, he was damned if he would jeopardize that trust, not now, not when it was new and fragile and he was standing outside her parents' house, of all places – and not when she was more than a little tipsy. She wouldn't have let him come near her, otherwise. In the end, it was the thought of Molly Weasley waiting up for her youngest fledgling, no doubt even peering out the window and watching them, that gave him the strength to let go. He most definitely didn't want to have that woman angry with him.
Not when things were coming along so nicely.
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