Ginny slept badly after finishing up her evening's work at the Quidditch Banquet. After arriving home, she'd thrown herself onto her bed, hoping for an exhausted deep sleep. Instead, she tossed and turned and her anger renewed as she thought about the mess that had been her relationship with Marcus Hutchins.
Her brief encounter with her ex-boyfriend during the banquet had been unwelcome, at best. Fortunately, she'd noticed that he was focused on networking with his peers instead of her and she'd counted herself fortunate that a curt nod and a quick strut back into the kitchens had been sufficient to keep him away for the evening. Unfortunately, based on her prior dealings with the man, she was quite certain their brief encounter would only lead to repercussions later.
Marcus was incorrigible. Initially, when they'd first started their relationship, Ginny had found the trait to be attractive. He'd pursued her relentlessly and her shy avoidance had only made his efforts to become part of her life all the more endearing. She'd found Marcus to be confident, intelligent, and interesting. Not to mention that he played Quidditch, which had always been something close to her heart.
She'd been so naive. Her prior experience with serious relationships had included only Harry and several short term boyfriends, all who had been sweet and nice and utterly boring. She'd been unprepared for Marcus.
He'd charged into her life and she'd allowed him. His charm and charisma had drawn her to him and she'd been so swept up that she had been completely oblivious to his manipulation of her.
The changes were small at first; so small that they could easily be overlooked as insignificant. He would say that, for example, he preferred her hair shorter, or up, and she would alter it to make him happy. Then, it was her clothing, or her makeup, or the way she organized her bookshelf. He was persuasive, and he reasoned that he was only making suggestions for her to improve herself. At the time, it had somehow made sense.
As the unwelcome memories drifted through her mind, she tossed in her bed, furious with herself that she'd allowed it to happen.
Had he been content with the small changes, she probably wouldn't have minded so very much. Every couple, after all, had the small irksome habits that required compromise. No, it was the bigger things that finally started to get her attention.
The big warning should have been when Marcus targeted her longtime love, Quidditch.
After she finished with school, Ginny joined Fred and George's local Quiddich league and it quickly became her favorite weekend activity. The twins had even managed their own team, the Jolly Jokers, sponsored by the joke shop - as a way to promote the business, they insisted. It was nothing serious and certainly nothing close to the professional teams but it was the single best thing in Ginny's life, next to her family.
Marcus, through his subtle and persistent hints and comments, had somehow convinced her that she needed to give it up, for him, of course. And she had.
She still couldn't believe that she'd allowed herself to be manipulated so easily.
Strangely enough, that wasn't what had finally woken her up to the fact that the relationship was a mistake. No, it had finally come down to her job, her last measure of her independence. Marcus had already been chiding and berating her about working and it had finally come down to the fact that, once she moved in with him, she was expected to eventually quit. He didn't want his girl working, he'd said. He wanted to be seen as taking care of her.
She almost fell for that line as well.
The defining moment had come one day when she was thinking about accepting Marcus' offer to move in with him. As she started planning her move out of The Burrow, she'd looked out the window and noticed the little Quidditch pitch that she'd flown around with her brothers when she was a child. As she stared out at the shabby little field that she'd loved so much, she suddenly realized that she no longer had anything to look forward to in her life.
It had been an epiphany of sorts. She saw that she had been allowing someone to change her into something that she knew she truly did not want to be.
An odd thought, really, at twenty-two, to think of your life as being over. The realization had jolted her back into the reality of where the relationship had taken her.
She ended her relationship with Marcus that same day, and even though she'd tried to explain, he still didn't understand why.
As she tossed through her long sleepless night, she could only further her resolve to stay as far away from relationships as possible. She had long dreamed of falling in love and sharing romantic kisses in a faerie garden, much like the one outside on the patio. Unfortunately, her personal experience had only proven that things like that would never happen, and now she was simply convinced that it was all rubbish. Falling in love had nearly destroyed who she was, and she didn't want that to happen again. Ever.
Blasted faeries, she thought. It was all their fault that she'd found herself thinking of how miserable she was instead of getting a good night's sleep.
- ~ -
Her lack of sleep did not deter her from waking up early the next morning. It was Sunday, and Sunday mornings were reserved for her weekly Quidditch match with her brothers' team. She cast aside thoughts of her miserable love life and tried to move onto the more pleasant topic of Quidditch. Even if she wasn't a professional player, she loved the game and looked forward to flying every chance she got.
She arrived at the pitch early to get in some extra practice and clear her mind of the negative thoughts that had arisen from the previous evening's banquet. Flying always made her feel better. Besides, it was a beautiful day and the spring air was cool and crisp. She loved flying on days like those, feeling the wind in her face. As she took to the air, she felt the freedom and joy fill her as she concentrated on nothing except her agility and speed.
Fred and George arrived some time later, along with the rest of the team, and she smiled and waved as they flew up to meet her. Their team was far from talented, consisting mostly of players that were well past their prime, although Harry would occasionally join them as Seeker when his schedule allowed. She longed for more competition, but nevertheless loved her little team. Their pick-up games were always light and fun, and she enjoyed time with her brothers and teammates.
As they finished up an hour or so later, she noticed that they'd acquired an unusual spectator. As soon as she recognized him, she held back, shielding herself from him as the team flew down with the rest of the team. Fred and George , however, were undeterred and eagerly trotted over to greet him.
“Oliver!” they shouted cheerfully in unison.
Ginny peered over a random teammate's shoulder as her brothers greeted Oliver Wood with no shortage of manly hand shaking and back slapping. Oliver, now a professional Keeper for the Falmouth Falcons had once played with Fred and George while at Hogwarts and he'd stayed in touch with the twins over the years.
The rest of the team also approached, recognizing the well-known Quidditch player and all were eager to make his acquaintance. Ginny watched the exchange from a distance, feeling slightly self-conscious about having approached the man during the previous evening's banquet.
“What brings you here today?” Fred asked, after the appropriate salutations had been exchanged
“Just stopping by to see the new talent,” Oliver said cheerfully as he waved at the haphazard team gathering behind the twins.
“Or lack of it,” George added. "Come begging us for a spot on the team again? "
"We knew you'd prefer playing for us," Fred stated in firm agreement.
“Well, let's not go that far,” Oliver joked. “But, seriously, though, I happened to run into your sister yesterday at one of those events they make us attend, and I realized I hadn't seen you blokes in a while. Just thought I'd stop by and see if you've blown anything up lately in your crazy shop.”
Ginny cringed at hearing the statement and hid further behind her tall teammate. The twins chattered onward, delighted to have an audience for their tales of misadventure.
Fred chattered. “You know, we still haven't found that Wilson kid that we hired last month after we accidentally exploded that new dung bomb potion.”
“Took us a week to air out the shop from that one.”
Oliver laughed.
“I hear Ron's married now, eh?” Oliver inquired.
“Yeah, last summer. We had a great time planning the celebration party after.”
“Nearly set the house on fire. Mum just about skinned us alive.”
Oliver chuckled again. He started looking around at their pitch, and started looking for one of the other players. “I watched your match and was wondering about who's your Chaser – the little one? He's amazing.”
“You don't mean Ginny, do you?”
“That was your sister?” he asked, surprised as he glanced at the surrounding team. He clearly hadn't been expecting a girl to be that aggressive in the air. To his credit, he recovered quickly. "Well, she's probably been trying to keep up with the likes of you from the time she could mount a broom, so I'd guess she'd have to be good."
George shouted over his shoulder, “Hey Gin, come on over! Oliver wants to talk to you!”
Ginny sighed and walked over almost shyly, pulling her long hair out of the tight bun that normally held it in check while she flew. She watched Oliver's expression as he saw her, clearly looking impressed.
“You fly quite well,” he complimented.
She had to smile. It wasn't often one got recognition by a professional for one's efforts, and she appreciated it. “Thanks. It helps that after years of using an ancient broom to finally have something decent,” she said as she proudly clutched her Firebolt. It wasn't the newest on the market, but it was still an excellent improvement over the old Comet she once had.
“Well, it seems to have worked.”
They chatted on for a bit about the upcoming season, Ginny remaining quiet for most of the conversation, when Oliver dropped a rather surprising bit of information. “Yeah, I expect this will be my last season playing professionally.”
“No!” Fred exclaimed. Ginny listened in shock. Oliver had been playing professionally since he'd finished school and they'd followed his career closely. He had been an enormously talented Keeper on the Falcons, and she was sorry to hear that he'd have to retire.
“It's tough, lads,” he explained. “I took a Bludger to the back the end of last season, and it's just not working out. Playing is for the young, and I figure it's time to give the next bloke his chance. But, don't fear, my friends, I fully intend to keep working in the league after this season.”
“What do you plan to do?” the twins asked in unison. Ginny hung back, still feeling uncomfortable that she'd so rudely used Oliver to simply avoid others last evening.
Oliver brightened, as if he'd been waiting for such an opening in the conversation. “I think it's time for me to start coaching. That was part of the reason that I came by today. I was hoping to work with you all on some of that, so I'm better prepared when I move on to my new career.”
“You talking about coaching our little team here?” George asked, looking quite thrilled with the idea.
“If I wouldn't be a bother. I have some ideas on strategy and I would like to see how they work out before I start bringing them to the professional pitch.”
“Excellent!” Fred and George cheered in unison. Ginny found herself brightening as she heard Oliver and her brothers agree, and she couldn't help but think that, perhaps, her time at the banquet hadn't been such a disaster after all.
- - -
Ginny walked into work the next day feeling better than she had in a long time. Not only was she thrilled that Oliver Wood was going to be coaching her team in his spare time, but even on that first day, he'd offered tips and hints to help her fly just a bit sharper and faster. She'd spent most of the afternoon practicing.
Adding to her good mood, was the fact that even her job seemed to be going her way. As she soon found out when she was called in to see Ms. Tinkerton herself.
Esmeralda Tinkerton was a large woman, not overweight per se, but simply big. She reminded Ginny of the half-giant headmistress of Beauxbatons, but not quite on so grand of a scale. Ms Tinkerton stood at about six feet, with raven black hair and dark eyes. She had a warmth about her that charmed clients, but she balanced it with a professional business-like manner. She was a smart, capable and honest businesswoman. In short, Ginny liked her boss.
Of course, she was certain that, as she walked into Ms. Tinkerton's office, she would get a full evaluation of her efforts in the Quidditch social that she had managed on Saturday.
She wasn't disappointed. A few minutes later, she walked out of the office as the company's newest full-fledged event coordinator. As she returned to her desk beaming, her friend Camille was waiting for her, eager to hear the news.
“I got the promotion!” Ginny announced brightly, smiling at her friend. With the promotion came an increase in pay and Ginny had plans for that money, particularly because it now might involve her finally being able to move out of her parents' house.
“Moving up in the world, Ginny!” Her friend smiled, giving her a quick hug. “Do you know what your first assignment is yet?”
Ginny grinned at her friend. “She gave me the Wentworth party,” Ginny whispered almost conspiratorially.
“That's a perfect one to start. Don't be afraid to ask if you need any help,” Camille offered, and the two girls chatted amiably as they walked back toward their desk. That's when Ginny's good day came to an abrupt halt.
Flowers covered her work space. Not just any flowers. Red roses.
“Oh no.”
Camille gasped. “Oh my, Ginny! You lucky girl!”
Her gaze followed Camille's now shaking and pointing finger. At the center of the display was a charmed, glowing globe, containing a brilliant diamond engagement ring.
Ginny started to hyperventilate, and heard herself mumble, “This cannot be happening.”
Camille was now bouncing in excitement. “I didn't even know you were seeing anyone! I mean, you were always downplaying your love life, and here you have this!”
Ginny stared at the scene before her and felt her heart drop to her shoes. Slowly, she turned around to look at the office door behind her and, sure enough, Marcus was standing there, looking as confident and charming as he always did, his soft brown hair and bright blue eyes making him look younger than he actually was. He was looking at her almost smugly and she momentarily found herself to be too stunned to move.
When he walked up to her and began to drop to one knee, taking her hand, she felt a surge of adrenaline shoot through her system, screaming at her to flee.
“Marry me, Ginny.”
She snapped back to reality, and found herself cursing several things. First, that she was at work, and therefore had to keep her temper in check. Second, that Marcus still refused to see that she had been serious about breaking things off. And, third, that he was putting her in a very public position. She fought to keep her temper in check.
“Not here, Marcus.”
“Of course, not here. I was planning on us getting married after the World Cup, right on the pitch. It would be the marriage of the decade.” He continued, explaining about how he understood why she'd been so angry after he'd asked her to move in with him, something about him finally realizing that she wanted more, blah, blah, blah. Her mind shut down listening to him while she quickly tried to figure out how to salvage the situation gracefully.
If she needed any more reason to confirm that her break up with him had been the right course of action, his statement had confirmed it. He'd ignored everything she'd explained in the past, altered the situation for his own benefit, and then decided when and where they would marry, without any input or discussion from her. She took a deep breath. “Please Marcus, this is not the place for us to have this conversation.”
The rest of the employees in the office were now starting to gather to see the excitement of Ginny getting engaged, to a world class Quidditch player at that. She felt her face reddening in anger.
“No, Marcus.”
“Gin, you know this is what you want.”
“No, it's not what I want. I'm quite sure, and I've been telling you for the last month that I'm not interested. Please. I have work to do.”
“You don't have to work anymore, Gin. Just let me take care of you. We’ll live in grand style, you'll see. When I saw you on Saturday, obviously having a bad night, I knew that you missed me.”
He still didn't get it. Since she'd broken it off, she'd been nice, then she'd been abrupt, then tried to avoid him. It just wasn't working. So, she calmly took out her wand, vanished the flowers and leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Marcus, I am not interested. I've explained numerous times why. I suggest you leave right now and take your ring with you, or you will never, ever be able to have children. Am I clear?”
He looked into her eyes, and found himself to be just the slightest bit afraid.
As he left the office, she turned and looked at her co-workers sheepishly. It had just become a very, very long day.
- ~ -
The rest of her week passed uneventfully. The Wentworth party was only three weeks away, and Ginny only had one major glitch. It took her an entire afternoon to convince Mrs. Wentworth that getting a full grown dragon for a party of six year old children was not exactly appropriate. After using as much diplomatic tact as she could manage, Ginny had been able to convince the woman that what she really wanted was a small pony that would be charmed to look like a dragon, and they would use some enchanted fireworks to simulate dragon fire from the beast.
Aside from that, she had been able to settle back and enjoy the rest of her week. She took to flying every evening after work, practicing to perfect the maneuvers that Oliver had suggested.
She couldn't wait to go to practice the following weekend to demonstrate her improved skills.
- ~ -
“Crap Ginny! You just about flew circles around George there! You're going to make him feel old!” Fred shouted.
“Speak for yourself, Fred! You're the older one, remember?”
She landed next to Oliver, grinning with pride. “Not bad, Ginny. Not bad at all,” he said.
“You know it was brilliant. I'm the best Chaser in the league,” she replied, grinning cheekily.
“You might be, but...”
“But what?” she challenged.
“I want you to play Seeker.”
The words stunned her and she found herself speechless for several seconds while she processed the information. The only conclusion she could deduce was that somehow Oliver didn't have all the information. “But Harry plays Seeker! I know he hasn't been here the last couple of weeks because of his job, but he's the best Seeker around!”
Oliver gave a chuckle, seeming to understand her confusion. “I'll put him in at Chaser for at bit; it will be a good change for him. I want see you at Seeker. I'm sure you've got the eye for it, and definitely the speed. I don't think Harry's anywhere near as agile from the last time I've seen him.”
So, maybe Harry had gotten a bit lax over the last couple of years. He was an Auror and, like Ginny, sometimes his job required him to work weekends, so he tended to miss a lot of practice. But still, she felt guilty about replacing him. After about an hour of discussion with her and her brothers, Oliver convinced her that he'd make sure to let Harry down gently. She left the field in no small amount of shock and with even more things to practice.
- ~ -
She walked into work on Monday morning aching from her practice sessions and she loved it. Quidditch was her release. After the disastrous marriage proposal from Marcus, she was more determined than ever to shun every last shred of romance in her life. The exhausting practice sessions and now her role at work had given her a clear sense of direction and purpose. These things had been lacking in her life before and she found the change to be empowering.
She had just settled into her notes for the Wentworth party, tracking RSVPs and working on the schedule for the entertainment, when an interoffice airplane flew over and landed squarely on her desk.
Ms. Tinkerton needed to see her.
That was unusual. Ms. Tinkerton typically didn't typically interfere in function planning unless there was a problem. She quickly checked her hair and straightened her skirt, picked up her notepad and walked to her boss' office.
“Good morning, Ginny. Please have a seat,” she said, motioning to the chair in front of her desk, looking mildly upset.
“Good morning, ma'am,” Ginny said, thinking about what she might have done wrong in the Wentworth planning, and thinking that maybe the charmed pony hadn't been such a good idea after all.
“I'm afraid I have to pull you off the Wentworth function. I'd like you gather your files and transfer all the information to Sophia by the end of the day.”
The news was so abrupt, and Ms. Tinkerton looked so upset that Ginny immediately deduced that she was going to be sacked. Her heart dropped for an agonizing beat or two.
When she responded, she couldn't help but have a slight tremble in her voice. “Yes, ma'am, of course, but if you don't mind, can you tell me where I might have gone wrong? I mean the pony wasn't...”
“Oh no, Miss Weasley, you've been doing a fine job with the account. Mrs. Wentworth has been pleased with your suggestions.”
“But why...?”
“I have another function for you. One for which you've been specifically requested,” Ms. Tinkerton explained, wringing her hands. Obviously, she was not pleased with the situation.
“I don't understand.”
“This morning a rather important client came to see me. Truthfully, winning his business would be an enormous advantage for us. He's planning a silver anniversary ball for his parents and specifically asked for you to be the coordinator of the function.”
“A ball? How big of a ball?” Ginny had waitressed at a couple of formal Ministry events, and had assisted as a backup coordinator for the Ministry Christmas Ball but, overall, her work had been in the smaller functions. She was still new and relatively inexperienced, after all.
“It would be at least three hundred, possibly more.”
Ginny gasped. “Ms. Tinkerton, I don't think I'm ready for something quite so large. I mean....”
“I know, dear. I agree. You're certainly competent, and hard working. I tried to convince him that I have more experienced members on my staff, but he wanted you.”
“Oh my.”
“Worse, the ball will take place in June.”
This was very, very disturbing news. Ginny blurted out her concern, “But that's only two months away! That's rather short notice for such a big event! Ms. Tinkerton, I really don't think that this is a very good idea.”
Panic started to grow in the pit of her stomach. This was way beyond her expertise and she couldn't understand why someone might request her. Not only was the event extraordinarily large, but the time frame was extremely short. Normally, it was suggested to start working on larger events at least four to six months in advance. This was a setup for failure. No wonder her boss was looking nervous. Ginny wholeheartedly shared her concern.
“Perhaps not, but the decision has been made, and you are now the official lead on this account. I'll make sure you have plenty of back up staff but, nevertheless, you'll be the lead, oversee all activities and interact with the clients directly.”
Ginny felt just a bit overwhelmed. While this was quite an honor, it was also a daunting task.
“Who is the client?”
“I'll take you to him. He's in the conference room waiting for you.”
- ~ -
Ginny entered the room to see the familiar pale blond hair of Draco Malfoy as he stood gazing carelessly out the bay window. When he heard her close the door, he turned and smirked, the amusement on his face plainly showing.
It seemed she couldn't get through a week without some sort of major trial. Last week, it was Marcus, this week, it would be this. She breathed a heavy sigh. At least she had Quidditch to help her keep her sanity.
She decided to ignore his over-confident smirk and get right to the point. "I've heard you asked for me specifically."
"I wanted only the best, and I've seen how well you handled the Quidditch banquet."
"I'm sorry, Malfoy, but I think you're a bit misinformed. I don't think you want me for this. There are plenty of others on the staff who are much more qualified than I am. I'm sure Ms. Tinkerton told you that I've only handled smaller functions and, even then, I was the assistant coordinator, not the lead.”
He looked down at the windowsill, idly tracing patterns on the wood with his fingers as she prattled on about her concerns. Obviously, it didn't affect him in the least.
He let her finish her short rant and then slowly turned his gaze to meet hers, his expression showing no hint of wavering. “So I've been told, and I don't care.” A small, amused smirk came to his face as he took in the shock on her face. “As I told your boss, it will be you. I saw you handle things at the Quidditch event. I'm certain that you're the one for this job.”
She felt a desperate need to try to get out of this predicament as the reasons for not wanting to work with this particular client mounted in her head. She finally sputtered, “Malfoy, you've got to understand, they aren't even on the same scale! You need someone with more experience with large formal occasions. The Quidditch social was my first event as lead coordinator, it was a small garden party for a bunch of men who would have been just as happy to spend the evening in a pub!"
His smile seemed to grow wider. "There's no difference. My mother has all the experience you need. She's thrown dozens of formals. All you need to do is keep track of what she asks for and make the Floo calls."
"I don't believe that for one instant."
"Then don't. All that matters is that I've asked for you to run the event and Ms. Tinkerton knows that I'll take my business elsewhere if I don't get you."
The words made Ginny's blood run cold. He was quite serious. No wonder her boss seemed rather distraught when she'd handed her the assignment.
"You wouldn't!" To think that her company would lose the biggest event of the season, short of the Ministry Christmas pageant, would be devastating. Ms. Tinkerton would lose a large percentage of her future bookings as well, since losing an account of this size would imply that something was amiss in the company. It could ruin their reputation. But, then again, failing to pull off the impossible would as well. Not to mention that, if Ginny mucked this up, she'd also likely lose her job and her chances of owning her own business someday would be ruined. It was a no-win situation.
Finally, she silently cursed him, took a deep breath and muttered, "You don't leave me much choice."
"I like it that way." He smirked. Then, giving her a rather intense look, he began to head toward the door, as if to leave.
It was something in the look that gave her pause. It almost resembled sympathy. She decided that, if she was going to be trapped in this role, she needed to know why. Impulsively, she put her hand on his forearm, stopping his departure and immediately regretted the action. To her surprise, when he turned back, there was no annoyance in his expression, just a mild curiosity. She dropped her hand and tried to once again look composed.
"Please, there must be a reason you want me for this. Your mother will want this evening to be perfect. You really are taking a chance with me. As the lead coordinator, I really should know why, to insure that I'm addressing the issue properly."
He smiled. "I like the way you think, Weasley."
“Wonderful. That makes me feel so much better, but it doesn't convince me to do this,” she responded.
Then, he paused, contemplating her request, and the amused expression left his face. For the first time, he looked at her seriously. "You're right, you probably should know, but the information doesn't leave this room."
She agreed.
He sat down and seemed to consider what to say. Finally, after a long pause he simply stated, "You're respectable, Weasley."
"What?"
"My mother wants to have the social event of the decade and, truthfully, she needs it. As you know, my parents have been somewhat blackballed after the war."
That was an understatement. Once the most prominent and imposing Pureblooded family in Britain, the Malfoys had become nothing short of social pariahs after the downfall of Voldemort. With most of their friends either dead or in Azkaban, the Malfoys had become reclusive. One hardly ever caught sight of either Lucius or Narcissa Malfoy these days, as they seemed to prefer the seclusion of their mansion.
The entire family had escaped the same fate of the other Death Eaters only by mere chance. Narcissa had betrayed Voldemort out of love for her son, and the family had effectively stayed neutral during that final battle. They'd survived, but the family's reputation was in shambles. Draco had somehow slowly integrated back into Wizarding society and was building a reputation as a young entrepreneur. He owned a Quidditch team, a position that gave him enough visibility to advertise his respectability.
Obviously, his growing standing was not an accident, but was something he'd carefully manipulated.
"You seem to have fared well enough," she pointed out.
"I was a teenager. People are willing to accept the fact that I was able to grow up and I spend every day working to keep that reputation clean. It's still an uphill battle and I still get shunned from time to time."
"So how is my reputation in the planning of a party supposed to help?"
"First, it's not a 'party', it's a silver anniversary formal ball and, second, having you associating with my parents is a start. It will draw out some of those that were neutral in the war. It will make my parents more approachable."
"Malfoy, I don't particularly agree with that."
"I don't care if you agree. That's what you're being paid to do."
Her temper flared. "I will NOT be used like that!"
She saw a flash of annoyance cross his face, but it passed quickly as he seemed to internally debate about telling her more. Finally, he spoke. "I'm not using you, Weasley. Well, maybe I am, but it's not a ruse if that's what you think. My parents have changed."
She didn't look convinced in the least and Draco, looking at the angry woman in front of him, briefly wondered if he'd made the right decision. However, backing out now might imply that he was wrong, or perhaps admitting defeat, neither of which were acceptable options.
So he turned to look out the window and continued, "You may not believe it, but my mother and father aren't the same as what you remember. Not even close. In fact, if you met them, you'd be surprised. Things have not been easy for them since they realized that Voldemort used them. It got worse after the war ended and they lost every bit of respectability they've ever known.”
“Maybe they should have considered that before getting involved,” Ginny suggested, somewhat unkindly. He looked back at her, his gaze piercingly direct.
“They made mistakes, and they know that. I know that. They may not have been sent to Azkaban, but the end result is almost the same. I want my mother to have one night where she can forget about everything and be happy again. In order to do that, I need someone with an impeccable reputation for being on the winning side of the war. That person is you."
Ginny felt her jaw drop at his admission, her mind furiously tried to calculate whatever ulterior motive might be behind his words, and then she desperately tried to come up with any possible reason to refuse this job. Her logic failed her.
The earnest look on his face when he spoke of his mother was what made her finally agree to take the job.
---
Her brief encounter with her ex-boyfriend during the banquet had been unwelcome, at best. Fortunately, she'd noticed that he was focused on networking with his peers instead of her and she'd counted herself fortunate that a curt nod and a quick strut back into the kitchens had been sufficient to keep him away for the evening. Unfortunately, based on her prior dealings with the man, she was quite certain their brief encounter would only lead to repercussions later.
Marcus was incorrigible. Initially, when they'd first started their relationship, Ginny had found the trait to be attractive. He'd pursued her relentlessly and her shy avoidance had only made his efforts to become part of her life all the more endearing. She'd found Marcus to be confident, intelligent, and interesting. Not to mention that he played Quidditch, which had always been something close to her heart.
She'd been so naive. Her prior experience with serious relationships had included only Harry and several short term boyfriends, all who had been sweet and nice and utterly boring. She'd been unprepared for Marcus.
He'd charged into her life and she'd allowed him. His charm and charisma had drawn her to him and she'd been so swept up that she had been completely oblivious to his manipulation of her.
The changes were small at first; so small that they could easily be overlooked as insignificant. He would say that, for example, he preferred her hair shorter, or up, and she would alter it to make him happy. Then, it was her clothing, or her makeup, or the way she organized her bookshelf. He was persuasive, and he reasoned that he was only making suggestions for her to improve herself. At the time, it had somehow made sense.
As the unwelcome memories drifted through her mind, she tossed in her bed, furious with herself that she'd allowed it to happen.
Had he been content with the small changes, she probably wouldn't have minded so very much. Every couple, after all, had the small irksome habits that required compromise. No, it was the bigger things that finally started to get her attention.
The big warning should have been when Marcus targeted her longtime love, Quidditch.
After she finished with school, Ginny joined Fred and George's local Quiddich league and it quickly became her favorite weekend activity. The twins had even managed their own team, the Jolly Jokers, sponsored by the joke shop - as a way to promote the business, they insisted. It was nothing serious and certainly nothing close to the professional teams but it was the single best thing in Ginny's life, next to her family.
Marcus, through his subtle and persistent hints and comments, had somehow convinced her that she needed to give it up, for him, of course. And she had.
She still couldn't believe that she'd allowed herself to be manipulated so easily.
Strangely enough, that wasn't what had finally woken her up to the fact that the relationship was a mistake. No, it had finally come down to her job, her last measure of her independence. Marcus had already been chiding and berating her about working and it had finally come down to the fact that, once she moved in with him, she was expected to eventually quit. He didn't want his girl working, he'd said. He wanted to be seen as taking care of her.
She almost fell for that line as well.
The defining moment had come one day when she was thinking about accepting Marcus' offer to move in with him. As she started planning her move out of The Burrow, she'd looked out the window and noticed the little Quidditch pitch that she'd flown around with her brothers when she was a child. As she stared out at the shabby little field that she'd loved so much, she suddenly realized that she no longer had anything to look forward to in her life.
It had been an epiphany of sorts. She saw that she had been allowing someone to change her into something that she knew she truly did not want to be.
An odd thought, really, at twenty-two, to think of your life as being over. The realization had jolted her back into the reality of where the relationship had taken her.
She ended her relationship with Marcus that same day, and even though she'd tried to explain, he still didn't understand why.
As she tossed through her long sleepless night, she could only further her resolve to stay as far away from relationships as possible. She had long dreamed of falling in love and sharing romantic kisses in a faerie garden, much like the one outside on the patio. Unfortunately, her personal experience had only proven that things like that would never happen, and now she was simply convinced that it was all rubbish. Falling in love had nearly destroyed who she was, and she didn't want that to happen again. Ever.
Blasted faeries, she thought. It was all their fault that she'd found herself thinking of how miserable she was instead of getting a good night's sleep.
- ~ -
Her lack of sleep did not deter her from waking up early the next morning. It was Sunday, and Sunday mornings were reserved for her weekly Quidditch match with her brothers' team. She cast aside thoughts of her miserable love life and tried to move onto the more pleasant topic of Quidditch. Even if she wasn't a professional player, she loved the game and looked forward to flying every chance she got.
She arrived at the pitch early to get in some extra practice and clear her mind of the negative thoughts that had arisen from the previous evening's banquet. Flying always made her feel better. Besides, it was a beautiful day and the spring air was cool and crisp. She loved flying on days like those, feeling the wind in her face. As she took to the air, she felt the freedom and joy fill her as she concentrated on nothing except her agility and speed.
Fred and George arrived some time later, along with the rest of the team, and she smiled and waved as they flew up to meet her. Their team was far from talented, consisting mostly of players that were well past their prime, although Harry would occasionally join them as Seeker when his schedule allowed. She longed for more competition, but nevertheless loved her little team. Their pick-up games were always light and fun, and she enjoyed time with her brothers and teammates.
As they finished up an hour or so later, she noticed that they'd acquired an unusual spectator. As soon as she recognized him, she held back, shielding herself from him as the team flew down with the rest of the team. Fred and George , however, were undeterred and eagerly trotted over to greet him.
“Oliver!” they shouted cheerfully in unison.
Ginny peered over a random teammate's shoulder as her brothers greeted Oliver Wood with no shortage of manly hand shaking and back slapping. Oliver, now a professional Keeper for the Falmouth Falcons had once played with Fred and George while at Hogwarts and he'd stayed in touch with the twins over the years.
The rest of the team also approached, recognizing the well-known Quidditch player and all were eager to make his acquaintance. Ginny watched the exchange from a distance, feeling slightly self-conscious about having approached the man during the previous evening's banquet.
“What brings you here today?” Fred asked, after the appropriate salutations had been exchanged
“Just stopping by to see the new talent,” Oliver said cheerfully as he waved at the haphazard team gathering behind the twins.
“Or lack of it,” George added. "Come begging us for a spot on the team again? "
"We knew you'd prefer playing for us," Fred stated in firm agreement.
“Well, let's not go that far,” Oliver joked. “But, seriously, though, I happened to run into your sister yesterday at one of those events they make us attend, and I realized I hadn't seen you blokes in a while. Just thought I'd stop by and see if you've blown anything up lately in your crazy shop.”
Ginny cringed at hearing the statement and hid further behind her tall teammate. The twins chattered onward, delighted to have an audience for their tales of misadventure.
Fred chattered. “You know, we still haven't found that Wilson kid that we hired last month after we accidentally exploded that new dung bomb potion.”
“Took us a week to air out the shop from that one.”
Oliver laughed.
“I hear Ron's married now, eh?” Oliver inquired.
“Yeah, last summer. We had a great time planning the celebration party after.”
“Nearly set the house on fire. Mum just about skinned us alive.”
Oliver chuckled again. He started looking around at their pitch, and started looking for one of the other players. “I watched your match and was wondering about who's your Chaser – the little one? He's amazing.”
“You don't mean Ginny, do you?”
“That was your sister?” he asked, surprised as he glanced at the surrounding team. He clearly hadn't been expecting a girl to be that aggressive in the air. To his credit, he recovered quickly. "Well, she's probably been trying to keep up with the likes of you from the time she could mount a broom, so I'd guess she'd have to be good."
George shouted over his shoulder, “Hey Gin, come on over! Oliver wants to talk to you!”
Ginny sighed and walked over almost shyly, pulling her long hair out of the tight bun that normally held it in check while she flew. She watched Oliver's expression as he saw her, clearly looking impressed.
“You fly quite well,” he complimented.
She had to smile. It wasn't often one got recognition by a professional for one's efforts, and she appreciated it. “Thanks. It helps that after years of using an ancient broom to finally have something decent,” she said as she proudly clutched her Firebolt. It wasn't the newest on the market, but it was still an excellent improvement over the old Comet she once had.
“Well, it seems to have worked.”
They chatted on for a bit about the upcoming season, Ginny remaining quiet for most of the conversation, when Oliver dropped a rather surprising bit of information. “Yeah, I expect this will be my last season playing professionally.”
“No!” Fred exclaimed. Ginny listened in shock. Oliver had been playing professionally since he'd finished school and they'd followed his career closely. He had been an enormously talented Keeper on the Falcons, and she was sorry to hear that he'd have to retire.
“It's tough, lads,” he explained. “I took a Bludger to the back the end of last season, and it's just not working out. Playing is for the young, and I figure it's time to give the next bloke his chance. But, don't fear, my friends, I fully intend to keep working in the league after this season.”
“What do you plan to do?” the twins asked in unison. Ginny hung back, still feeling uncomfortable that she'd so rudely used Oliver to simply avoid others last evening.
Oliver brightened, as if he'd been waiting for such an opening in the conversation. “I think it's time for me to start coaching. That was part of the reason that I came by today. I was hoping to work with you all on some of that, so I'm better prepared when I move on to my new career.”
“You talking about coaching our little team here?” George asked, looking quite thrilled with the idea.
“If I wouldn't be a bother. I have some ideas on strategy and I would like to see how they work out before I start bringing them to the professional pitch.”
“Excellent!” Fred and George cheered in unison. Ginny found herself brightening as she heard Oliver and her brothers agree, and she couldn't help but think that, perhaps, her time at the banquet hadn't been such a disaster after all.
- - -
Ginny walked into work the next day feeling better than she had in a long time. Not only was she thrilled that Oliver Wood was going to be coaching her team in his spare time, but even on that first day, he'd offered tips and hints to help her fly just a bit sharper and faster. She'd spent most of the afternoon practicing.
Adding to her good mood, was the fact that even her job seemed to be going her way. As she soon found out when she was called in to see Ms. Tinkerton herself.
Esmeralda Tinkerton was a large woman, not overweight per se, but simply big. She reminded Ginny of the half-giant headmistress of Beauxbatons, but not quite on so grand of a scale. Ms Tinkerton stood at about six feet, with raven black hair and dark eyes. She had a warmth about her that charmed clients, but she balanced it with a professional business-like manner. She was a smart, capable and honest businesswoman. In short, Ginny liked her boss.
Of course, she was certain that, as she walked into Ms. Tinkerton's office, she would get a full evaluation of her efforts in the Quidditch social that she had managed on Saturday.
She wasn't disappointed. A few minutes later, she walked out of the office as the company's newest full-fledged event coordinator. As she returned to her desk beaming, her friend Camille was waiting for her, eager to hear the news.
“I got the promotion!” Ginny announced brightly, smiling at her friend. With the promotion came an increase in pay and Ginny had plans for that money, particularly because it now might involve her finally being able to move out of her parents' house.
“Moving up in the world, Ginny!” Her friend smiled, giving her a quick hug. “Do you know what your first assignment is yet?”
Ginny grinned at her friend. “She gave me the Wentworth party,” Ginny whispered almost conspiratorially.
“That's a perfect one to start. Don't be afraid to ask if you need any help,” Camille offered, and the two girls chatted amiably as they walked back toward their desk. That's when Ginny's good day came to an abrupt halt.
Flowers covered her work space. Not just any flowers. Red roses.
“Oh no.”
Camille gasped. “Oh my, Ginny! You lucky girl!”
Her gaze followed Camille's now shaking and pointing finger. At the center of the display was a charmed, glowing globe, containing a brilliant diamond engagement ring.
Ginny started to hyperventilate, and heard herself mumble, “This cannot be happening.”
Camille was now bouncing in excitement. “I didn't even know you were seeing anyone! I mean, you were always downplaying your love life, and here you have this!”
Ginny stared at the scene before her and felt her heart drop to her shoes. Slowly, she turned around to look at the office door behind her and, sure enough, Marcus was standing there, looking as confident and charming as he always did, his soft brown hair and bright blue eyes making him look younger than he actually was. He was looking at her almost smugly and she momentarily found herself to be too stunned to move.
When he walked up to her and began to drop to one knee, taking her hand, she felt a surge of adrenaline shoot through her system, screaming at her to flee.
“Marry me, Ginny.”
She snapped back to reality, and found herself cursing several things. First, that she was at work, and therefore had to keep her temper in check. Second, that Marcus still refused to see that she had been serious about breaking things off. And, third, that he was putting her in a very public position. She fought to keep her temper in check.
“Not here, Marcus.”
“Of course, not here. I was planning on us getting married after the World Cup, right on the pitch. It would be the marriage of the decade.” He continued, explaining about how he understood why she'd been so angry after he'd asked her to move in with him, something about him finally realizing that she wanted more, blah, blah, blah. Her mind shut down listening to him while she quickly tried to figure out how to salvage the situation gracefully.
If she needed any more reason to confirm that her break up with him had been the right course of action, his statement had confirmed it. He'd ignored everything she'd explained in the past, altered the situation for his own benefit, and then decided when and where they would marry, without any input or discussion from her. She took a deep breath. “Please Marcus, this is not the place for us to have this conversation.”
The rest of the employees in the office were now starting to gather to see the excitement of Ginny getting engaged, to a world class Quidditch player at that. She felt her face reddening in anger.
“No, Marcus.”
“Gin, you know this is what you want.”
“No, it's not what I want. I'm quite sure, and I've been telling you for the last month that I'm not interested. Please. I have work to do.”
“You don't have to work anymore, Gin. Just let me take care of you. We’ll live in grand style, you'll see. When I saw you on Saturday, obviously having a bad night, I knew that you missed me.”
He still didn't get it. Since she'd broken it off, she'd been nice, then she'd been abrupt, then tried to avoid him. It just wasn't working. So, she calmly took out her wand, vanished the flowers and leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Marcus, I am not interested. I've explained numerous times why. I suggest you leave right now and take your ring with you, or you will never, ever be able to have children. Am I clear?”
He looked into her eyes, and found himself to be just the slightest bit afraid.
As he left the office, she turned and looked at her co-workers sheepishly. It had just become a very, very long day.
- ~ -
The rest of her week passed uneventfully. The Wentworth party was only three weeks away, and Ginny only had one major glitch. It took her an entire afternoon to convince Mrs. Wentworth that getting a full grown dragon for a party of six year old children was not exactly appropriate. After using as much diplomatic tact as she could manage, Ginny had been able to convince the woman that what she really wanted was a small pony that would be charmed to look like a dragon, and they would use some enchanted fireworks to simulate dragon fire from the beast.
Aside from that, she had been able to settle back and enjoy the rest of her week. She took to flying every evening after work, practicing to perfect the maneuvers that Oliver had suggested.
She couldn't wait to go to practice the following weekend to demonstrate her improved skills.
- ~ -
“Crap Ginny! You just about flew circles around George there! You're going to make him feel old!” Fred shouted.
“Speak for yourself, Fred! You're the older one, remember?”
She landed next to Oliver, grinning with pride. “Not bad, Ginny. Not bad at all,” he said.
“You know it was brilliant. I'm the best Chaser in the league,” she replied, grinning cheekily.
“You might be, but...”
“But what?” she challenged.
“I want you to play Seeker.”
The words stunned her and she found herself speechless for several seconds while she processed the information. The only conclusion she could deduce was that somehow Oliver didn't have all the information. “But Harry plays Seeker! I know he hasn't been here the last couple of weeks because of his job, but he's the best Seeker around!”
Oliver gave a chuckle, seeming to understand her confusion. “I'll put him in at Chaser for at bit; it will be a good change for him. I want see you at Seeker. I'm sure you've got the eye for it, and definitely the speed. I don't think Harry's anywhere near as agile from the last time I've seen him.”
So, maybe Harry had gotten a bit lax over the last couple of years. He was an Auror and, like Ginny, sometimes his job required him to work weekends, so he tended to miss a lot of practice. But still, she felt guilty about replacing him. After about an hour of discussion with her and her brothers, Oliver convinced her that he'd make sure to let Harry down gently. She left the field in no small amount of shock and with even more things to practice.
- ~ -
She walked into work on Monday morning aching from her practice sessions and she loved it. Quidditch was her release. After the disastrous marriage proposal from Marcus, she was more determined than ever to shun every last shred of romance in her life. The exhausting practice sessions and now her role at work had given her a clear sense of direction and purpose. These things had been lacking in her life before and she found the change to be empowering.
She had just settled into her notes for the Wentworth party, tracking RSVPs and working on the schedule for the entertainment, when an interoffice airplane flew over and landed squarely on her desk.
Ms. Tinkerton needed to see her.
That was unusual. Ms. Tinkerton typically didn't typically interfere in function planning unless there was a problem. She quickly checked her hair and straightened her skirt, picked up her notepad and walked to her boss' office.
“Good morning, Ginny. Please have a seat,” she said, motioning to the chair in front of her desk, looking mildly upset.
“Good morning, ma'am,” Ginny said, thinking about what she might have done wrong in the Wentworth planning, and thinking that maybe the charmed pony hadn't been such a good idea after all.
“I'm afraid I have to pull you off the Wentworth function. I'd like you gather your files and transfer all the information to Sophia by the end of the day.”
The news was so abrupt, and Ms. Tinkerton looked so upset that Ginny immediately deduced that she was going to be sacked. Her heart dropped for an agonizing beat or two.
When she responded, she couldn't help but have a slight tremble in her voice. “Yes, ma'am, of course, but if you don't mind, can you tell me where I might have gone wrong? I mean the pony wasn't...”
“Oh no, Miss Weasley, you've been doing a fine job with the account. Mrs. Wentworth has been pleased with your suggestions.”
“But why...?”
“I have another function for you. One for which you've been specifically requested,” Ms. Tinkerton explained, wringing her hands. Obviously, she was not pleased with the situation.
“I don't understand.”
“This morning a rather important client came to see me. Truthfully, winning his business would be an enormous advantage for us. He's planning a silver anniversary ball for his parents and specifically asked for you to be the coordinator of the function.”
“A ball? How big of a ball?” Ginny had waitressed at a couple of formal Ministry events, and had assisted as a backup coordinator for the Ministry Christmas Ball but, overall, her work had been in the smaller functions. She was still new and relatively inexperienced, after all.
“It would be at least three hundred, possibly more.”
Ginny gasped. “Ms. Tinkerton, I don't think I'm ready for something quite so large. I mean....”
“I know, dear. I agree. You're certainly competent, and hard working. I tried to convince him that I have more experienced members on my staff, but he wanted you.”
“Oh my.”
“Worse, the ball will take place in June.”
This was very, very disturbing news. Ginny blurted out her concern, “But that's only two months away! That's rather short notice for such a big event! Ms. Tinkerton, I really don't think that this is a very good idea.”
Panic started to grow in the pit of her stomach. This was way beyond her expertise and she couldn't understand why someone might request her. Not only was the event extraordinarily large, but the time frame was extremely short. Normally, it was suggested to start working on larger events at least four to six months in advance. This was a setup for failure. No wonder her boss was looking nervous. Ginny wholeheartedly shared her concern.
“Perhaps not, but the decision has been made, and you are now the official lead on this account. I'll make sure you have plenty of back up staff but, nevertheless, you'll be the lead, oversee all activities and interact with the clients directly.”
Ginny felt just a bit overwhelmed. While this was quite an honor, it was also a daunting task.
“Who is the client?”
“I'll take you to him. He's in the conference room waiting for you.”
- ~ -
Ginny entered the room to see the familiar pale blond hair of Draco Malfoy as he stood gazing carelessly out the bay window. When he heard her close the door, he turned and smirked, the amusement on his face plainly showing.
It seemed she couldn't get through a week without some sort of major trial. Last week, it was Marcus, this week, it would be this. She breathed a heavy sigh. At least she had Quidditch to help her keep her sanity.
She decided to ignore his over-confident smirk and get right to the point. "I've heard you asked for me specifically."
"I wanted only the best, and I've seen how well you handled the Quidditch banquet."
"I'm sorry, Malfoy, but I think you're a bit misinformed. I don't think you want me for this. There are plenty of others on the staff who are much more qualified than I am. I'm sure Ms. Tinkerton told you that I've only handled smaller functions and, even then, I was the assistant coordinator, not the lead.”
He looked down at the windowsill, idly tracing patterns on the wood with his fingers as she prattled on about her concerns. Obviously, it didn't affect him in the least.
He let her finish her short rant and then slowly turned his gaze to meet hers, his expression showing no hint of wavering. “So I've been told, and I don't care.” A small, amused smirk came to his face as he took in the shock on her face. “As I told your boss, it will be you. I saw you handle things at the Quidditch event. I'm certain that you're the one for this job.”
She felt a desperate need to try to get out of this predicament as the reasons for not wanting to work with this particular client mounted in her head. She finally sputtered, “Malfoy, you've got to understand, they aren't even on the same scale! You need someone with more experience with large formal occasions. The Quidditch social was my first event as lead coordinator, it was a small garden party for a bunch of men who would have been just as happy to spend the evening in a pub!"
His smile seemed to grow wider. "There's no difference. My mother has all the experience you need. She's thrown dozens of formals. All you need to do is keep track of what she asks for and make the Floo calls."
"I don't believe that for one instant."
"Then don't. All that matters is that I've asked for you to run the event and Ms. Tinkerton knows that I'll take my business elsewhere if I don't get you."
The words made Ginny's blood run cold. He was quite serious. No wonder her boss seemed rather distraught when she'd handed her the assignment.
"You wouldn't!" To think that her company would lose the biggest event of the season, short of the Ministry Christmas pageant, would be devastating. Ms. Tinkerton would lose a large percentage of her future bookings as well, since losing an account of this size would imply that something was amiss in the company. It could ruin their reputation. But, then again, failing to pull off the impossible would as well. Not to mention that, if Ginny mucked this up, she'd also likely lose her job and her chances of owning her own business someday would be ruined. It was a no-win situation.
Finally, she silently cursed him, took a deep breath and muttered, "You don't leave me much choice."
"I like it that way." He smirked. Then, giving her a rather intense look, he began to head toward the door, as if to leave.
It was something in the look that gave her pause. It almost resembled sympathy. She decided that, if she was going to be trapped in this role, she needed to know why. Impulsively, she put her hand on his forearm, stopping his departure and immediately regretted the action. To her surprise, when he turned back, there was no annoyance in his expression, just a mild curiosity. She dropped her hand and tried to once again look composed.
"Please, there must be a reason you want me for this. Your mother will want this evening to be perfect. You really are taking a chance with me. As the lead coordinator, I really should know why, to insure that I'm addressing the issue properly."
He smiled. "I like the way you think, Weasley."
“Wonderful. That makes me feel so much better, but it doesn't convince me to do this,” she responded.
Then, he paused, contemplating her request, and the amused expression left his face. For the first time, he looked at her seriously. "You're right, you probably should know, but the information doesn't leave this room."
She agreed.
He sat down and seemed to consider what to say. Finally, after a long pause he simply stated, "You're respectable, Weasley."
"What?"
"My mother wants to have the social event of the decade and, truthfully, she needs it. As you know, my parents have been somewhat blackballed after the war."
That was an understatement. Once the most prominent and imposing Pureblooded family in Britain, the Malfoys had become nothing short of social pariahs after the downfall of Voldemort. With most of their friends either dead or in Azkaban, the Malfoys had become reclusive. One hardly ever caught sight of either Lucius or Narcissa Malfoy these days, as they seemed to prefer the seclusion of their mansion.
The entire family had escaped the same fate of the other Death Eaters only by mere chance. Narcissa had betrayed Voldemort out of love for her son, and the family had effectively stayed neutral during that final battle. They'd survived, but the family's reputation was in shambles. Draco had somehow slowly integrated back into Wizarding society and was building a reputation as a young entrepreneur. He owned a Quidditch team, a position that gave him enough visibility to advertise his respectability.
Obviously, his growing standing was not an accident, but was something he'd carefully manipulated.
"You seem to have fared well enough," she pointed out.
"I was a teenager. People are willing to accept the fact that I was able to grow up and I spend every day working to keep that reputation clean. It's still an uphill battle and I still get shunned from time to time."
"So how is my reputation in the planning of a party supposed to help?"
"First, it's not a 'party', it's a silver anniversary formal ball and, second, having you associating with my parents is a start. It will draw out some of those that were neutral in the war. It will make my parents more approachable."
"Malfoy, I don't particularly agree with that."
"I don't care if you agree. That's what you're being paid to do."
Her temper flared. "I will NOT be used like that!"
She saw a flash of annoyance cross his face, but it passed quickly as he seemed to internally debate about telling her more. Finally, he spoke. "I'm not using you, Weasley. Well, maybe I am, but it's not a ruse if that's what you think. My parents have changed."
She didn't look convinced in the least and Draco, looking at the angry woman in front of him, briefly wondered if he'd made the right decision. However, backing out now might imply that he was wrong, or perhaps admitting defeat, neither of which were acceptable options.
So he turned to look out the window and continued, "You may not believe it, but my mother and father aren't the same as what you remember. Not even close. In fact, if you met them, you'd be surprised. Things have not been easy for them since they realized that Voldemort used them. It got worse after the war ended and they lost every bit of respectability they've ever known.”
“Maybe they should have considered that before getting involved,” Ginny suggested, somewhat unkindly. He looked back at her, his gaze piercingly direct.
“They made mistakes, and they know that. I know that. They may not have been sent to Azkaban, but the end result is almost the same. I want my mother to have one night where she can forget about everything and be happy again. In order to do that, I need someone with an impeccable reputation for being on the winning side of the war. That person is you."
Ginny felt her jaw drop at his admission, her mind furiously tried to calculate whatever ulterior motive might be behind his words, and then she desperately tried to come up with any possible reason to refuse this job. Her logic failed her.
The earnest look on his face when he spoke of his mother was what made her finally agree to take the job.
---
Author notes: Updated 2014 - Minor re-writes to correct grammar and obvious messy wording. This was one of my earliest works, and I'm amazed at how much I've improved (most notably in grammar) after all this time. :)
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