Chapter 12 - Juggling Act
They agreed to see each other quietly for the time being. The drama created by the photos in the Daily Prophet after the ball had created enough disruption for the both of them. It was mutually agreed that they didn't want to have to worry about dealing with publicity around a relationship that had barely started; not that she viewed it as a relationship just yet.
She had convinced herself that she needed a fling, of sorts, and she was hoping that maybe this was simply a mutual attraction that each of them had to work out. So, for the second time in her life — the first being her attempt at professional Quidditch — she threw caution to the wind.
During the first two weeks, they would go to dinner privately or spend time at the manor in the gardens. Mid-week, she would have dinner with him at his flat near Diagon Alley.
Two weeks into the ‘relationship’, Draco had taken her to the small lake on the estate, and they spent the sunny afternoon swimming and lazing on the beach, taking frequent breaks for snogging.
"I can't believe I've been here with you at least a half dozen times, and you still have something new on this place to show me."
"And there's still much more. You can see why I can't stay away."
"Well, I had been concerned that you still spent weekends with your parents ..." she teased.
"The house is more than large enough to keep a dozen people in there, and we'd never come across each other if we didn't want to."
"But you still keep a place in town."
"I have to keep up appearances, and it's easier to be there if I work late or want to entertain privately. Besides, there are times when I'd rather not say I'm living at home with my parents."
"I'm sure. Especially with all those rather gorgeous women I've seen you with at parties," she baited. A small part of her was quite curious about how many of those women had been invited back to that flat.
"Are you jealous?" he asked, and she saw his eyes light up with mischief.
Was she? She hadn't thought about it before, but maybe this thing they had going wasn't exclusive. She started to feel a growing knot in her stomach at the thought. Although, she had little to be ashamed of. If anything, their interaction was more like a courtship than a fling. He'd not gone any further physically than some very passionate kisses, and she adored it when he held her close. It was both flattering and frustrating. Not that she was interested in this thing going very far, but she did have a rather morbid curiosity about where she stood with him.
After a long pause, she finally responded, "No. Why would I be jealous?" She tried to sound casual. "We've already established that you don't seem to have any issues attracting women, and you did tell met that you used to find it rather fun."
He laughed. "You are jealous!" And he leaned over and gave her a quick kiss, causing her to blush furiously.
"Humph!" she snorted. "I never asked you about us being exclusive."
"Would you like this to be?"
She hadn't thought about that before. It had started as trying to quell the physical attraction she'd felt for this man. An attraction that she was certain was only based on the romantic notions she'd gotten into her head at the ball over six weeks ago. Now he was talking about being exclusive. Or perhaps he was simply teasing her, as he had so many times while they were working on the plans for the ball.
"Are you baiting me again, Malfoy? I was under the impression that you were not interested in being attached to anyone. Based on what I've seen, you can certainly attract any number of gorgeous women. I don't see why you would ask something like that from someone like me."
He chuckled again. "Do you know why I asked you to escort me to the ball?"
"Because I wouldn't be fawning all over your conceited-self all night, and I had the reputation to help your parents start to reintegrate back into their high-society."
"That was part of it, but those reasons were minor."
"Well, do you care to share, or am I going to have to keep myself awake all week trying to figure it out?"
"Cheeky, you are," he said. "That's why I like you. You're interesting Weasley. You're also intelligent, and rather fun to annoy."
"And this answers my question, how? I still don't see why I'm here with you right now, instead of one of those Playwizard types that I normally see you with."
"And I told you, it's because they bore me. You've seen me at the parties, I rarely actually spend time talking with my own date. If I do, all she seems capable of is talking about fashion, or something equally superficial. I told you I tired of those types quite a while ago."
"Yet it doesn't stop you from dating them."
"Well, I didn't say I was a monk, Weasley. There's a difference between dating a woman and getting involved with one."
"Are you saying we're involved?"
"I thought I'd just asked you if that's what you wanted?"
"I... I hadn't really thought you were serious."
"Well, I am. What do you say, Miss. Weasley?" he teased her with his mocking formal tone.
"Well, if it means that I get to spend more lovely afternoons like this with you, I suppose I could agree quite readily. You're growing on me, Mr. Malfoy, despite my better judgment." She smiled somewhat shyly at him. This was unexpected, and quite true that it was against her better judgment but, she'd found herself growing quite fond of him.
"Good," he confirmed, and leaned in for another kiss.
- ~ -
Ginny's hard work on the Quidditch pitch over the next two weeks paid off, as she won the next two matches for the Falcons. James, still recovering from his injuries, now sat on the sidelines, cheering her on, and she appreciated the former Seeker's support. They were a team, and they'd come to accept Francine wholeheartedly.
Practices became more grueling. Ginny constantly strived to sharpen her skills further, so that she could integrate distracting the opposing team's Chasers more effectively while simultaneously hunting down the Snitch. As each game passed, she became more and more proficient at the task.
She was having the time of her life.
With her success came an unexpected issue, however. It seemed that Francine was now becoming an overnight sensation. She was the new darling of the Quidditch world, and the act of turning back into Ginny Weasley was now going to create an enormous problem.
After her third win, she and Oliver once again started talking about it.
"It's time for you to at least tell the rest of the team who you really are," he suggested.
She wanted to so very badly. Here she was, the most popular player in the league right now, and nobody knew it was her. It was frustrating.
"I know. I know. But I just don't think I should."
"You're putting it off, Ginny. There's no reason you can't at least let the team know now. They have publicity people. I'm sure they'd find a way to make it a great story."
"But that's just it. I can't. I can't let it come out like this. Not yet."
"Out with it Ginny. There's a reason," he prodded.
She looked at him earnestly. He was turning into a very good friend, and she briefly wondered again why she couldn't have fallen for him instead. It would have made all this so much less complicated.
She wanted to confide in her friend, but she felt awkward about it.
"Yes, there's a reason, but I don't feel comfortable talking about it just yet," she told him.
He nodded, reluctantly, but didn't press her further. He simply let her know that she could trust him with the secret when the right time came.
- x – x -
As the summer wore on, they often had at least one weekend day free, depending on when the match was scheduled. Unfortunately, now as a starting player, she was in more demand for other events related to the team. She would use false excuses, such as her previous catering work, or a family gathering, as a cover for the time she spent being disguised as Francine.
She felt like she was literally living two separate lives.
She'd finally admitted to her mother that she was seeing Draco, and her mother was working to soften up her father so that eventually she could tell him as well. Consequently, Ginny hesitated to tell her mother or the rest of her family about playing on the Falcons, since her mother would probably start assuming that she'd gotten on the team due to some sort of elicit favor. Trying to figure out how to bring all that into the open was getting rather awkward.
Fortunately, her parents assumed that ‘going to work’ continued to mean the catering job. Ginny continued to get the company gossip about events from Camille, which she would add into casual conversation to make it appear that she still worked there. Nobody seemed to notice her increased interest in talk about professional Quidditch.
Not that she spent that much time with her family, as of late. She found herself becoming more and more enthusiastic about her time with Draco. The relationship was becoming more serious, and she found that she had no desire for it to end anytime soon.
- x – x -
By the end of August, she fully realized that she truly felt at ease around him when she found herself at his flat, dozing with her head in his lap after dinner one evening. He playfully nudged her awake, making note of her mussed hair.
"Next weekend, I want to teach you to ride," he offered.
"You're kidding."
"Why would I? You like horses don't you?"
"I do. I used to beg my parents for a unicorn or a pony every year when I was little. My brothers still tease me about it."
"So, why do I sense hesitation from you?"
"Because a horse isn't something like a broom, where I have control over it. A horse has its own mind, and I'm concerned about it and I having a disagreement."
He laughed. "So, Ginevra likes to be in control of the situation. I think I've learned something here."
She smacked his arm lightly. "It's not that, you prat. It's just that I don't want to look ridiculous."
"Oh, so you're afraid, or just afraid of not being in control?" He smiled, pulling her in close as she tried to look angry.
"You're impossible!"
"You realize that I find you irresistible when you're furious."
"So, you're baiting me purposely?"
"Of course. But you are still going to go riding with me next weekend."
"I wouldn't count on it."
"Oh, I would, my dear. I think I like this idea. I promise to put you on a nice, gentle mount. We'll go slow."
"That's another reason not to do it. My broom is much faster."
"Do you still play Quidditch often?"
She hated questions like this. She wanted to tell him about herself. She wanted to share with him about her pride in being on the Falcons, and how she felt that it was her greatest accomplishment.
She internally justified her lie with the reasoning that wizards, with the kind of charisma like Marcus or Draco, hated seeing a witch being so successful in a traditional wizard's sport. More than likely, he'd see her success as some sort of threat to his masculinity. She once again settled for telling him a half truth.
"I play with my brothers on a recreational league," she said, waiting for some sort of reprimand for her unfeminine hobby.
"You were hell on a broomstick at Hogwarts. I would think that you probably still are," he commented.
She was surprised by the reaction. Most of her previous boyfriends really did not care to hear about how good she was, even in Hogwarts. "You don't have any problem with me playing Quidditch?"
"Of course not, why would you ask that?"
"Let's just say, that not all wizards seem to approve of me playing."
Her trepidation had been based on more than simply the reaction of Marcus, or other ex-boyfriends. She'd never paid it much attention in the past, but over the last few weeks, she'd started to become well-acquainted with just how biased the Wizarding world was about witches in traditionally male roles. In her enthusiasm to follow her career in the papers, she'd seen plenty of negative commentary about witches playing professionally. Francine's presence on the Falcons had created quite a stir.
"I don't have a problem with witches playing. If I did, I wouldn't have Francine on the team."
She sensed an opening to maybe breach the subject about Francine's true identity and decided to ask. His answer would have an impact on her future on the team. "What would you think if I was good enough to be on your team?"
"Is that a rhetorical question?"
"No, I'm serious. What if I was good enough? What if I was just as good as Francine?"
"Do you think you are?"
"I thought we were talking hypothetically," she diverted.
"Well, if you were, there are a few issues. First, I couldn't replace Francine in favor of you, because it would look extremely bad. You know I can't give the impression that I'm using my influence to favor anyone. Second, even if Francine left the team next year, I still would have some issues with you because, I would hope, you and I will be public knowledge, and again, I can't be seen as putting someone on the team that I handpicked due to a personal relationship."
Ginny said nothing but felt crushed. She tried to hide her disappointment but the crux of the problem was his public image. She hated him for that, though she'd been involved enough with the family to understand that he had his reasons, and they were very valid reasons.
"Everything is about image for you, isn't it?" she asked.
"It's not my choice. It's because of the world we are living in,” he responded conversationally. He hadn't picked up on Ginny's disappointment.
He continued, appearing to be intent on getting her to understand his situation. “I have an obligation to my parents, and to their future grandchildren. My family name has to be above reproach. It would take only the smallest hint of dishonesty and the world will start rumors of my family falling to the Dark side again.”
His expression softened as he looked down at Ginny's frown, trying to cheer her with a light joke. “Sorry, love, but you will just have to try out for the Cannons. Although, now that I think about it, I might not want you playing against me, due to you possibly getting inside information from just being around me and the team. I'm afraid you'll just have to be content with sitting with me up in the luxury box — looking gorgeous, of course."
With that last statement, he leaned over, lifted her chin and gave her a light, affectionate kiss. He had no idea that his comments about a hypothetical scenario had been completely devastating.
"I would look forward to going to one of your recreational games sometime." He smiled. "I truly would love to see you fly again, now that you're not playing for Gryffindor, of course. I might actually be able to enjoy it."
Damn, here he was trying to be rather sweet, and she felt a weight settle solidly onto her chest. He didn't have a problem with her playing, but he'd have a problem with her playing professionally. Granted, he thought her question was purely hypothetical, but he had his reasons.
She quickly came to the conclusion that she would have to choose between him and Quidditch, or find a way to keep up this strange double life every summer for the next few years, or until their relationship ended, whichever came first. The thought made her feel sick.
- x – x -
Saturday's match did not go well. They lost, but not due to Ginny's Seeker abilities. Halfway through, Oliver had gotten hit soundly, aggravating his old injury, and had to be replaced. The score had been tight, and her timing with catching the Snitch wasn't soon enough to overcome the number of goals scored by their opponent.
The team left the field disheartened. Oliver would likely not return to being a starting player ever again. The only good news was that the team was interested in taking him on as an assistant coach.
It didn't take long for Oliver to pull her aside, and once again prod her to tell the team the truth about Francine.
"I can't," she told him flatly.
"I don't see why not,” he insisted. “I'll be working full time as a coach now. I can make sure that things work out.”
"They won't work out, Oliver. If anyone finds out who I really am, I'll be finished here," she admitted miserably.
"You are making no sense whatsoever, Ginny. I think it's time to give me the full story." His tone left no room for argument. It was obvious that his patience was at its limit where this was concerned.
"I started seeing someone," she said.
He looked at her without comprehension, and seemed a bit sad. "Ginny, I don't hold that against you. I'm all right with that. We're friends, after all, yeah?"
So, he assumed that it was only because of their failed attempt at dating. "Thank you, but that's not the reason."
"And the reason is..."
"I'm seeing Malfoy."
His jaw dropped. He put his hand to his face and started to turn away in pure shock. After a moment, he turned back, looking more composed.
"You're kidding."
And so, she proceeded to relay the recent conversation she'd had with Draco about her playing on his team and about why she and Francine had to remain separate for the time being.
"Crap," was his only response after she was finished.
- x - x -
Ginny entered the gardens at the now familiar manor, putting aside all thoughts and worries about Francine. She had a new challenge ahead of her, because, this time, she found herself heading toward the stables.
She had to give him credit for his persuasiveness. One week after Draco had threatened to teach her to ride, she found herself on a tall, elderly gelding, walking around the paddock on the Malfoy estate with Draco seated on a sleek, high-spirited mare by her side. He seemed to enjoy directing her to sit straighter, or use her knees, as she tried to coax the elderly horse to move his lazy arse around the paddock.
"I'll get you for this, Malfoy," she groused, as the horse ignored her and lowered its head to start nibbling on some grass outside the fence.
He laughed openly at her distress, and moved his mare to gracefully make a circuit around the ring, jumping over a pair of fence-like obstacles in the center. She found herself laughing inwardly, and admiring the beauty of the movement of the pair.
The unguarded look of happiness on his face as he breezed over each hurdle was a pleasure to watch, and she found herself enjoying the sight. How things had changed. She'd seen him smirk, smile, and laugh, but never had she imagined seeing him with such a genuine look of happiness as she saw on his face right now. She became instantly addicted to it.
- x – x -
Narcissa peered out the window of her sitting room toward the paddock that was just visible beyond the gardens. She'd always loved to watch her son during his riding lessons, and now he was tutoring the Weasley girl. It appeared that Ginevra had much to learn.
Lucius came up behind his wife, putting his arms around her as he looked out in the direction of her gaze.
"He enjoys the girl," he stated.
"He does. I find her interesting as well. She broadens his perspective."
"I find that hard to believe, my love," he responded.
"She is untrained, but intelligent. She challenges him to see the world from the viewpoint of one who hasn't been brought up with our privileges, yet she is capable of adapting."
"And it doesn't hurt that your friendship with her has brought you back into society's good graces," he pointed out, kissing his wife affectionately on the cheek before looking out the window again.
"No, that doesn't hurt at all. Her reputation aside, she's more than I expected."
"You don't intend for this to go on, do you, my dear? I would think that he would tire of her after a few months and find someone of our class."
"Are you saying you disapprove of her, Lucius?"
"Not so much disapprove, except that I've adapted about as much as I can. I can tolerate the Weasley girl herself, but the thought of possibly interacting with the rest of the family is distasteful at best,” he said, his expression appearing as if he'd just eaten something rather sour.
"You'll adapt as much as you need to, my love. The girl has proven useful, and she has so far failed to show any major flaws beyond her family name and class. Besides, I've decided that I like her. She makes Draco happy, and we've had far too little happiness in this house in the last several years."
Lucius sighed in defeat.
- x - x -
They agreed to see each other quietly for the time being. The drama created by the photos in the Daily Prophet after the ball had created enough disruption for the both of them. It was mutually agreed that they didn't want to have to worry about dealing with publicity around a relationship that had barely started; not that she viewed it as a relationship just yet.
She had convinced herself that she needed a fling, of sorts, and she was hoping that maybe this was simply a mutual attraction that each of them had to work out. So, for the second time in her life — the first being her attempt at professional Quidditch — she threw caution to the wind.
During the first two weeks, they would go to dinner privately or spend time at the manor in the gardens. Mid-week, she would have dinner with him at his flat near Diagon Alley.
Two weeks into the ‘relationship’, Draco had taken her to the small lake on the estate, and they spent the sunny afternoon swimming and lazing on the beach, taking frequent breaks for snogging.
"I can't believe I've been here with you at least a half dozen times, and you still have something new on this place to show me."
"And there's still much more. You can see why I can't stay away."
"Well, I had been concerned that you still spent weekends with your parents ..." she teased.
"The house is more than large enough to keep a dozen people in there, and we'd never come across each other if we didn't want to."
"But you still keep a place in town."
"I have to keep up appearances, and it's easier to be there if I work late or want to entertain privately. Besides, there are times when I'd rather not say I'm living at home with my parents."
"I'm sure. Especially with all those rather gorgeous women I've seen you with at parties," she baited. A small part of her was quite curious about how many of those women had been invited back to that flat.
"Are you jealous?" he asked, and she saw his eyes light up with mischief.
Was she? She hadn't thought about it before, but maybe this thing they had going wasn't exclusive. She started to feel a growing knot in her stomach at the thought. Although, she had little to be ashamed of. If anything, their interaction was more like a courtship than a fling. He'd not gone any further physically than some very passionate kisses, and she adored it when he held her close. It was both flattering and frustrating. Not that she was interested in this thing going very far, but she did have a rather morbid curiosity about where she stood with him.
After a long pause, she finally responded, "No. Why would I be jealous?" She tried to sound casual. "We've already established that you don't seem to have any issues attracting women, and you did tell met that you used to find it rather fun."
He laughed. "You are jealous!" And he leaned over and gave her a quick kiss, causing her to blush furiously.
"Humph!" she snorted. "I never asked you about us being exclusive."
"Would you like this to be?"
She hadn't thought about that before. It had started as trying to quell the physical attraction she'd felt for this man. An attraction that she was certain was only based on the romantic notions she'd gotten into her head at the ball over six weeks ago. Now he was talking about being exclusive. Or perhaps he was simply teasing her, as he had so many times while they were working on the plans for the ball.
"Are you baiting me again, Malfoy? I was under the impression that you were not interested in being attached to anyone. Based on what I've seen, you can certainly attract any number of gorgeous women. I don't see why you would ask something like that from someone like me."
He chuckled again. "Do you know why I asked you to escort me to the ball?"
"Because I wouldn't be fawning all over your conceited-self all night, and I had the reputation to help your parents start to reintegrate back into their high-society."
"That was part of it, but those reasons were minor."
"Well, do you care to share, or am I going to have to keep myself awake all week trying to figure it out?"
"Cheeky, you are," he said. "That's why I like you. You're interesting Weasley. You're also intelligent, and rather fun to annoy."
"And this answers my question, how? I still don't see why I'm here with you right now, instead of one of those Playwizard types that I normally see you with."
"And I told you, it's because they bore me. You've seen me at the parties, I rarely actually spend time talking with my own date. If I do, all she seems capable of is talking about fashion, or something equally superficial. I told you I tired of those types quite a while ago."
"Yet it doesn't stop you from dating them."
"Well, I didn't say I was a monk, Weasley. There's a difference between dating a woman and getting involved with one."
"Are you saying we're involved?"
"I thought I'd just asked you if that's what you wanted?"
"I... I hadn't really thought you were serious."
"Well, I am. What do you say, Miss. Weasley?" he teased her with his mocking formal tone.
"Well, if it means that I get to spend more lovely afternoons like this with you, I suppose I could agree quite readily. You're growing on me, Mr. Malfoy, despite my better judgment." She smiled somewhat shyly at him. This was unexpected, and quite true that it was against her better judgment but, she'd found herself growing quite fond of him.
"Good," he confirmed, and leaned in for another kiss.
- ~ -
Ginny's hard work on the Quidditch pitch over the next two weeks paid off, as she won the next two matches for the Falcons. James, still recovering from his injuries, now sat on the sidelines, cheering her on, and she appreciated the former Seeker's support. They were a team, and they'd come to accept Francine wholeheartedly.
Practices became more grueling. Ginny constantly strived to sharpen her skills further, so that she could integrate distracting the opposing team's Chasers more effectively while simultaneously hunting down the Snitch. As each game passed, she became more and more proficient at the task.
She was having the time of her life.
With her success came an unexpected issue, however. It seemed that Francine was now becoming an overnight sensation. She was the new darling of the Quidditch world, and the act of turning back into Ginny Weasley was now going to create an enormous problem.
After her third win, she and Oliver once again started talking about it.
"It's time for you to at least tell the rest of the team who you really are," he suggested.
She wanted to so very badly. Here she was, the most popular player in the league right now, and nobody knew it was her. It was frustrating.
"I know. I know. But I just don't think I should."
"You're putting it off, Ginny. There's no reason you can't at least let the team know now. They have publicity people. I'm sure they'd find a way to make it a great story."
"But that's just it. I can't. I can't let it come out like this. Not yet."
"Out with it Ginny. There's a reason," he prodded.
She looked at him earnestly. He was turning into a very good friend, and she briefly wondered again why she couldn't have fallen for him instead. It would have made all this so much less complicated.
She wanted to confide in her friend, but she felt awkward about it.
"Yes, there's a reason, but I don't feel comfortable talking about it just yet," she told him.
He nodded, reluctantly, but didn't press her further. He simply let her know that she could trust him with the secret when the right time came.
- x – x -
As the summer wore on, they often had at least one weekend day free, depending on when the match was scheduled. Unfortunately, now as a starting player, she was in more demand for other events related to the team. She would use false excuses, such as her previous catering work, or a family gathering, as a cover for the time she spent being disguised as Francine.
She felt like she was literally living two separate lives.
She'd finally admitted to her mother that she was seeing Draco, and her mother was working to soften up her father so that eventually she could tell him as well. Consequently, Ginny hesitated to tell her mother or the rest of her family about playing on the Falcons, since her mother would probably start assuming that she'd gotten on the team due to some sort of elicit favor. Trying to figure out how to bring all that into the open was getting rather awkward.
Fortunately, her parents assumed that ‘going to work’ continued to mean the catering job. Ginny continued to get the company gossip about events from Camille, which she would add into casual conversation to make it appear that she still worked there. Nobody seemed to notice her increased interest in talk about professional Quidditch.
Not that she spent that much time with her family, as of late. She found herself becoming more and more enthusiastic about her time with Draco. The relationship was becoming more serious, and she found that she had no desire for it to end anytime soon.
- x – x -
By the end of August, she fully realized that she truly felt at ease around him when she found herself at his flat, dozing with her head in his lap after dinner one evening. He playfully nudged her awake, making note of her mussed hair.
"Next weekend, I want to teach you to ride," he offered.
"You're kidding."
"Why would I? You like horses don't you?"
"I do. I used to beg my parents for a unicorn or a pony every year when I was little. My brothers still tease me about it."
"So, why do I sense hesitation from you?"
"Because a horse isn't something like a broom, where I have control over it. A horse has its own mind, and I'm concerned about it and I having a disagreement."
He laughed. "So, Ginevra likes to be in control of the situation. I think I've learned something here."
She smacked his arm lightly. "It's not that, you prat. It's just that I don't want to look ridiculous."
"Oh, so you're afraid, or just afraid of not being in control?" He smiled, pulling her in close as she tried to look angry.
"You're impossible!"
"You realize that I find you irresistible when you're furious."
"So, you're baiting me purposely?"
"Of course. But you are still going to go riding with me next weekend."
"I wouldn't count on it."
"Oh, I would, my dear. I think I like this idea. I promise to put you on a nice, gentle mount. We'll go slow."
"That's another reason not to do it. My broom is much faster."
"Do you still play Quidditch often?"
She hated questions like this. She wanted to tell him about herself. She wanted to share with him about her pride in being on the Falcons, and how she felt that it was her greatest accomplishment.
She internally justified her lie with the reasoning that wizards, with the kind of charisma like Marcus or Draco, hated seeing a witch being so successful in a traditional wizard's sport. More than likely, he'd see her success as some sort of threat to his masculinity. She once again settled for telling him a half truth.
"I play with my brothers on a recreational league," she said, waiting for some sort of reprimand for her unfeminine hobby.
"You were hell on a broomstick at Hogwarts. I would think that you probably still are," he commented.
She was surprised by the reaction. Most of her previous boyfriends really did not care to hear about how good she was, even in Hogwarts. "You don't have any problem with me playing Quidditch?"
"Of course not, why would you ask that?"
"Let's just say, that not all wizards seem to approve of me playing."
Her trepidation had been based on more than simply the reaction of Marcus, or other ex-boyfriends. She'd never paid it much attention in the past, but over the last few weeks, she'd started to become well-acquainted with just how biased the Wizarding world was about witches in traditionally male roles. In her enthusiasm to follow her career in the papers, she'd seen plenty of negative commentary about witches playing professionally. Francine's presence on the Falcons had created quite a stir.
"I don't have a problem with witches playing. If I did, I wouldn't have Francine on the team."
She sensed an opening to maybe breach the subject about Francine's true identity and decided to ask. His answer would have an impact on her future on the team. "What would you think if I was good enough to be on your team?"
"Is that a rhetorical question?"
"No, I'm serious. What if I was good enough? What if I was just as good as Francine?"
"Do you think you are?"
"I thought we were talking hypothetically," she diverted.
"Well, if you were, there are a few issues. First, I couldn't replace Francine in favor of you, because it would look extremely bad. You know I can't give the impression that I'm using my influence to favor anyone. Second, even if Francine left the team next year, I still would have some issues with you because, I would hope, you and I will be public knowledge, and again, I can't be seen as putting someone on the team that I handpicked due to a personal relationship."
Ginny said nothing but felt crushed. She tried to hide her disappointment but the crux of the problem was his public image. She hated him for that, though she'd been involved enough with the family to understand that he had his reasons, and they were very valid reasons.
"Everything is about image for you, isn't it?" she asked.
"It's not my choice. It's because of the world we are living in,” he responded conversationally. He hadn't picked up on Ginny's disappointment.
He continued, appearing to be intent on getting her to understand his situation. “I have an obligation to my parents, and to their future grandchildren. My family name has to be above reproach. It would take only the smallest hint of dishonesty and the world will start rumors of my family falling to the Dark side again.”
His expression softened as he looked down at Ginny's frown, trying to cheer her with a light joke. “Sorry, love, but you will just have to try out for the Cannons. Although, now that I think about it, I might not want you playing against me, due to you possibly getting inside information from just being around me and the team. I'm afraid you'll just have to be content with sitting with me up in the luxury box — looking gorgeous, of course."
With that last statement, he leaned over, lifted her chin and gave her a light, affectionate kiss. He had no idea that his comments about a hypothetical scenario had been completely devastating.
"I would look forward to going to one of your recreational games sometime." He smiled. "I truly would love to see you fly again, now that you're not playing for Gryffindor, of course. I might actually be able to enjoy it."
Damn, here he was trying to be rather sweet, and she felt a weight settle solidly onto her chest. He didn't have a problem with her playing, but he'd have a problem with her playing professionally. Granted, he thought her question was purely hypothetical, but he had his reasons.
She quickly came to the conclusion that she would have to choose between him and Quidditch, or find a way to keep up this strange double life every summer for the next few years, or until their relationship ended, whichever came first. The thought made her feel sick.
- x – x -
Saturday's match did not go well. They lost, but not due to Ginny's Seeker abilities. Halfway through, Oliver had gotten hit soundly, aggravating his old injury, and had to be replaced. The score had been tight, and her timing with catching the Snitch wasn't soon enough to overcome the number of goals scored by their opponent.
The team left the field disheartened. Oliver would likely not return to being a starting player ever again. The only good news was that the team was interested in taking him on as an assistant coach.
It didn't take long for Oliver to pull her aside, and once again prod her to tell the team the truth about Francine.
"I can't," she told him flatly.
"I don't see why not,” he insisted. “I'll be working full time as a coach now. I can make sure that things work out.”
"They won't work out, Oliver. If anyone finds out who I really am, I'll be finished here," she admitted miserably.
"You are making no sense whatsoever, Ginny. I think it's time to give me the full story." His tone left no room for argument. It was obvious that his patience was at its limit where this was concerned.
"I started seeing someone," she said.
He looked at her without comprehension, and seemed a bit sad. "Ginny, I don't hold that against you. I'm all right with that. We're friends, after all, yeah?"
So, he assumed that it was only because of their failed attempt at dating. "Thank you, but that's not the reason."
"And the reason is..."
"I'm seeing Malfoy."
His jaw dropped. He put his hand to his face and started to turn away in pure shock. After a moment, he turned back, looking more composed.
"You're kidding."
And so, she proceeded to relay the recent conversation she'd had with Draco about her playing on his team and about why she and Francine had to remain separate for the time being.
"Crap," was his only response after she was finished.
- x - x -
Ginny entered the gardens at the now familiar manor, putting aside all thoughts and worries about Francine. She had a new challenge ahead of her, because, this time, she found herself heading toward the stables.
She had to give him credit for his persuasiveness. One week after Draco had threatened to teach her to ride, she found herself on a tall, elderly gelding, walking around the paddock on the Malfoy estate with Draco seated on a sleek, high-spirited mare by her side. He seemed to enjoy directing her to sit straighter, or use her knees, as she tried to coax the elderly horse to move his lazy arse around the paddock.
"I'll get you for this, Malfoy," she groused, as the horse ignored her and lowered its head to start nibbling on some grass outside the fence.
He laughed openly at her distress, and moved his mare to gracefully make a circuit around the ring, jumping over a pair of fence-like obstacles in the center. She found herself laughing inwardly, and admiring the beauty of the movement of the pair.
The unguarded look of happiness on his face as he breezed over each hurdle was a pleasure to watch, and she found herself enjoying the sight. How things had changed. She'd seen him smirk, smile, and laugh, but never had she imagined seeing him with such a genuine look of happiness as she saw on his face right now. She became instantly addicted to it.
- x – x -
Narcissa peered out the window of her sitting room toward the paddock that was just visible beyond the gardens. She'd always loved to watch her son during his riding lessons, and now he was tutoring the Weasley girl. It appeared that Ginevra had much to learn.
Lucius came up behind his wife, putting his arms around her as he looked out in the direction of her gaze.
"He enjoys the girl," he stated.
"He does. I find her interesting as well. She broadens his perspective."
"I find that hard to believe, my love," he responded.
"She is untrained, but intelligent. She challenges him to see the world from the viewpoint of one who hasn't been brought up with our privileges, yet she is capable of adapting."
"And it doesn't hurt that your friendship with her has brought you back into society's good graces," he pointed out, kissing his wife affectionately on the cheek before looking out the window again.
"No, that doesn't hurt at all. Her reputation aside, she's more than I expected."
"You don't intend for this to go on, do you, my dear? I would think that he would tire of her after a few months and find someone of our class."
"Are you saying you disapprove of her, Lucius?"
"Not so much disapprove, except that I've adapted about as much as I can. I can tolerate the Weasley girl herself, but the thought of possibly interacting with the rest of the family is distasteful at best,” he said, his expression appearing as if he'd just eaten something rather sour.
"You'll adapt as much as you need to, my love. The girl has proven useful, and she has so far failed to show any major flaws beyond her family name and class. Besides, I've decided that I like her. She makes Draco happy, and we've had far too little happiness in this house in the last several years."
Lucius sighed in defeat.
- x - x -
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