Ginny left work feeling guilty for faking an illness for her boss. At least Camille had been understanding about Ginny needing the afternoon off and Ginny decided she'd have to come up with some way to thank her friend for covering.
Rushing home, she ran into the broom shed and found that her Firebolt was missing. A horrified, sinking feeling overcame her as she realized she'd left the broom back at work, where she'd intended to take it out for a quick flight at lunch. It was too late to go back, because it would risk being caught in her lie, or worse, cause her to be unavoidably detained. She stared sadly at her old Comet, sitting alone in the shed. Refusing to admit defeat, she grabbed the old broom and rushed to make the tryout on time.
She arrived at the Quidditch pitch disguised as Francine. At first, she felt odd but the encouraging nod from Oliver, who was already there with the rest of the team, gave her the final incentive to step onto the field, her old broom clutched firmly in her hands.
She was the only witch there, and her competition was indeed larger and heavier than she. Much larger. And she didn't even want to think about the expensive new brooms they all seemed to be holding. She forced the doubts from her mind. In fact, she forgot about all of it as soon as she took to the air, flying patterns and maneuvers that demanded she use every last ounce of strength and dexterity in her possession. Her small size turned to her advantage, as she could twist and dive without fighting the bulk of her own momentum like most of the others. She skillfully and artfully dodged Bludgers and maintained her focus in each and every task they asked of her and, by the time she landed, she was feeling confident.
As she stopped for a break while another group of potential candidates took to the air, she noticed that Draco had arrived to oversee the activity. The meeting with Camille must have ended early, she guessed, because he probably wanted to be here to see his new team prospects. She noted that he looked to be more grumpy than usual and her mind shot back to work, wondering if something bad had happened during the meeting. She trusted Camille completely, but with only a few days before the event, she worried that something unexpected may have come up.
She was asked to fly three more times, each time against different team members or against one of the other candidates. Each time, her mind emptied of all thoughts except flying her ancient broom for all it was worth.
Finally, at the end of the session she lined up with everyone, once again feeling somewhat short, and waited for the final word of her fate.
As the coach looked at the row of competitors critically, the team captain, Roger Egan walked over to her and gave her an encouraging smile.
“Francine, isn't it?”
“Y-yes,” she responded, trying to sound American.
“Is that your broom?” he said, looking at her skeptically.
“A Comet Special 360,” she replied.
“I haven't seen one of those since I was a kid,” he remarked, staring down at the broom. He made a small grunting noise and walked away.
Great. Just great, she muttered to herself.
Shortly after, they were all informed that they'd receive owls in the next week or so with the team decision. Of the two dozen who had applied, there were only three slots available for the practice squad. If chosen for the practice squad, they would be further evaluated for future positions on the starting team.
With those curt words, the coach thanked them for their time and they were dismissed.
Ginny walked off the field, feeling that, regardless of the decision, she'd done her best. Even if nothing came of it, she knew that she had at least tried. She went to the ladies room to change her clothing and charm her appearance back to normal before she left the stadium.
Oliver Wood caught up with her just outside the stadium entrance.
“You did great, Ginny,” he told her.
She smiled up at him. “Well, I did my best, can't ask for more than that, right?”
“Absolutely!” He beamed at her. “I can tell you that Raymond is impressed, especially after Roger noticed that you flew circles around your competition on a broom that's older than most members on the team.”
Ginny chuckled. “Well, I found out early in life that I just have to be that much better to overcome that, especially flying against my brothers. I suppose it's helped over the years.”
She started to move on, wanting to take a walk for a bit before going home. “Ginny.” Oliver stopped her. She turned. “Can I take you to dinner?”
Before she could answer, a rather annoyed drawl came out behind her, “Weasley?”
She felt herself jump nervously. Oh, crap. Malfoy was still here, and apparently just leaving after watching the trials.
All ability to speak coherently seemed to abandon her. “Oh, umm...”
“You missed our meeting today,” he said curtly, looking between her and Oliver.
“I'm sorry. I had some personal business to attend to. ”
“Which just happened to bring you here?” he said suspiciously, his eyes narrowed as he glanced at Oliver once again.
Oh great, he thought she slipped work just to meet up with Oliver on a date or something. She found herself annoyed that he should care. She'd spent the last seven weeks doing nothing but jump at his and his mother's every whim and he had the gall to be annoyed that she missed one little meeting?
“No, Mr. Malfoy,” she responded coldly. “My business was personal. I'm sure Camille will fill me in on any important details first thing tomorrow morning.” With that, she turned to depart, leaving a very annoyed Draco Malfoy behind.
Of course, the next morning, she received an owl from 'him' demanding a reschedule of their missed meeting. Worse, he wanted her to meet at the manor the next day so that Narcissa could also be present, to go over the final schedule.
“Ugh.” Ginny sighed as she read the note, looking over at Camille. “He wasn't too happy that I wasn't here yesterday, was he?”
“I've got to say that it was about as unpleasant as I've ever seen him.”
“You didn't go to school with the prat. He's a master of being unpleasant. I'm only surprised that he's been tolerable for the last two months. It was only a matter of time before his true nature came out.”
“I doubt it's that,” Camille joked. “I think he just likes you,” as she gave Ginny an evil grin.
“Oh, puh-leeze!” Ginny tossed a balled up piece of parchment at her friend. “Next he'll be dipping the end of my braid into the ink pot, is that what you're saying?”
And they giggled and got back to work.
- ~ -
She was going to be so happy in three days when this blasted event would be over and done. Only three more days, and no more Malfoy, no more Narcissa. She could take the week off and then move onto a nice, sane, normal project. She couldn't wait.
As the house-elf opened the door, Ginny automatically started to move in the direction of Narcissa's parlor, where they usually met. She was surprised when the elf led her further down the hall. The dark woodwork along the route was decorated with elegant paintings that caught Ginny's attention, so much so, that she failed to recognize that there were several voices coming from the room that she entered.
The room was a large study with many windows, but the brightness of the room was tempered with deep golden yellow wall coverings and dark cherry woodwork - a man's study. Near the windows sat Draco and Narcissa and, as she recognized the third person, who was standing to rise to greet her, she felt as if all the breath had been knocked out of her. She couldn't breathe.
She hadn't expected Lucius Malfoy to be there also.
Clutching her hand to her tightened chest, she barely muttered an “excuse me,” as she backed quickly out of the room.
She walked stiffly out into the hallway, feeling slightly ill. She'd forgotten about him. After the weeks of working with Narcissa and Draco, she'd dropped her guard. The two had been difficult individuals to work with, but in the end, she had been able to understand them and see them simply as people. Difficult and demanding clients, but people nonetheless.
This was different. This was Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater, and the man who had indirectly tried to kill her twelve years ago.
She'd been so focused on simply doing her job that she'd completely forgotten.
She started to hyperventilate.
Draco hurried into the hall, only a few seconds behind her. His voice showing concern, he asked, “Weasley, are you all right?”
“I just need a minute,” she choked out.
“You look like you've seen a ghost,” he stated.
She just shook her head in a “no”, still looking outright terrified, and very much forcing herself to take deep, calming breaths.
“Oh good,” Draco muttered. “I was worried great-uncle Alastair might be up to his old habits again.”
She stared sourly at him. The ridiculous remark at least got her mind out of the panic so she could breathe again.
“Seriously, Weasley. What's wrong? I'd rather not have you dying in my house. I have a reputation to keep.”
She looked up and saw honest concern in his eyes, taking the edge off his comment. She didn't know if she should say anything or not. She somehow knew that she'd see Lucius at the party but she hadn't been prepared to see him now, in a more private setting, and have to actually interact with the man.
Draco placed a hand on her shoulder and she looked up, taking as deep a breath as she could. “Your father...” she started to say.
Just at that moment, Lucius Malfoy himself exited the study, also appearing concerned.
“Draco, is everything all right here?”
“I think so, Father. Ginevra was just trying to explain what's wrong.”
She stared at Lucius, desperately trying to keep from looking like she was as shaken as she felt. As she looked at the man, she realized he wasn't quite as tall as Draco, and his features no longer seemed as hard as she'd remembered.
As Lucius looked at her, obviously noting that her reaction was due to him, he frowned and the look in his eyes showed something akin to sadness.
“Son, wait inside, please. I'd like to have a word with Miss. Weasley, if you don't mind.”
Draco nodded and looked at Ginny, her eyes begging him not to leave her alone with his father. “It's all right, Ginevra, I'll be right inside here,” he said, motioning toward the open doorway. He and his father exchanged a glance and Draco disappeared into the room.
Ginny stood up as tall as she could and looked directly into Lucius' eyes. She would not show her fear, not if she could help it.
“My presence seems to have affected you,” he started.
“Not at all, Mr. Malfoy. I... I simply needed to ...” she stammered, trying to come up with a plausible excuse to explain her panic attack at the sight of the man.
“Please, Ginevra, there's no need to apologize. I don't wish to cause you any discomfort.”
Discomfort! What an understatement.
“Mr. Malfoy, I'm fine now. Why don't we just go on with the meeting. I presume that you'll be joining us for the final arrangements for Saturday,” she said, trying to sound calm and professional as she took a step to move into the room.
“Please wait, Miss. Weasley. I would like to talk with you privately about a certain matter.”
“Really, Mr. Malfoy there's no need...” He put out a hand and stopped her from stepping closer to the room. She froze and took a deep gulp of air. There was no avoiding this, so she turned to him. “All right then, Mr. Malfoy, what, may I ask, is on your mind?” She tried her best to look as calm and cool as possible but knew that she was failing miserably.
“There is a certain matter for which I feel the need to apologize to you, Miss. Weasley.”
“Excuse me?”
She had to admire the man. He had a charisma that emanated from him; the same charisma she'd seen in Draco. Now that he was looking at her without the sneer that she'd been so accustomed to seeing on him when she was younger, she could understand how and why he'd been so influential in the Ministry in the past.
She looked into his eyes and saw the same sadness that she'd noticed earlier. Draco had said the man had changed, and maybe it was true, but Ginny still felt no compulsion to trust him.
“I understand that you have no love for me. In fact, I am impressed that you are even here considering your past history.”
“I had no idea that you would be present for today's meeting, Mr. Malfoy,” she said.
“I am talking about the last two months of coming to the manor to meet with my wife.”
“It's my job, sir. If I expect to be successful in my chosen career, I can't let past prejudices affect my work.”
He smiled. “I like that answer. Ambition is good motivation, is it not?”
“I suppose it is. But that isn't why you wanted to speak to me, is it?”
“No, it's far more personal than that.” He paused, studying her face closely. She wondered if he was using some form of Legilimency on her, and she didn't really care if he was. If he wanted to see her anger toward him about Tom Riddle's diary, she had no qualms about making it quite clear to him. “You have good reason to dislike me, Miss. Weasley, I won't deny that, but I would like to make clear to you that you have no reason to fear me. I have no wish to do you, or your family, any harm. My time with the Dark Lord is over, and has been for several years.”
Of course, Ginny thought, she had no reason to fear. He'd end up in Azkaban quicker than a Snitch. As for the Dark Lord thing, she sincerely doubted that. He'd said that after the first war also, and look where that took them.
“Circumstances have changed, Ginevra,” he said calmly. “I was betrayed by him as much as any. Worse so, since I almost lost all that I loved because of my loyalty to him. Do not fear my past.”
“I don't fear you,” she lied.
He smiled. “Of course not. You are a Gryffindor, but I don't wish to argue with you.”
She wished he would just get on with what he had to say. He seemed to be delaying.
“I wanted to speak with you because I want to apologize for the wrong I did to you all those years ago.”
What? She felt her mouth drop open.
“It is not easy to admit when one makes a mistake,” he continued, showing some small amusement at the surprise in her reaction. But then his face became serious again, as the sadness returned to his eyes. “I have learned that I was wrong to have followed Voldemort. I can name any number of reasons as to why I chose that path, but they matter not. I make no excuses for the choices I made in following him. But of all the things I have been guilty of, the one thing I most regret has been attempting to use you, when you were a mere child, as an instrument for the Dark Lord's return.”
He was apologizing to her. She tried to wrap her head around the concept but it didn't seem real. She remained silent and he continued.
“I don't ask for your forgiveness, Ginevra, there is no such thing for so heinous of an act. I only ask that you accept my apology, and not hold my actions against my family.”
She remained stonily silent, gaping at him. Finally, after what seemed like several minutes of silence, she replied, “I don't know what to say to that, Mr. Malfoy.”
“You needn't say anything. Just consider my words. I truly do regret harming you, Ginevra, and I am eternally grateful that Riddle's efforts with you failed.”
She nodded mutely. She couldn't say anything to either accept or reject his words. As he'd said, all she could do was consider them.
He motioned to invite her back into the room. “Now, shall we join the others and discuss more pleasant topics?”
She followed him into the room. Draco was waiting for them just inside the doorway. She had little doubt that he had over heard everything and was grateful that he'd been nearby during the entire encounter. He gently placed his hand on her back and guided her over to the table where the four discussed the final preparations and schedule for the ball.
Rushing home, she ran into the broom shed and found that her Firebolt was missing. A horrified, sinking feeling overcame her as she realized she'd left the broom back at work, where she'd intended to take it out for a quick flight at lunch. It was too late to go back, because it would risk being caught in her lie, or worse, cause her to be unavoidably detained. She stared sadly at her old Comet, sitting alone in the shed. Refusing to admit defeat, she grabbed the old broom and rushed to make the tryout on time.
She arrived at the Quidditch pitch disguised as Francine. At first, she felt odd but the encouraging nod from Oliver, who was already there with the rest of the team, gave her the final incentive to step onto the field, her old broom clutched firmly in her hands.
She was the only witch there, and her competition was indeed larger and heavier than she. Much larger. And she didn't even want to think about the expensive new brooms they all seemed to be holding. She forced the doubts from her mind. In fact, she forgot about all of it as soon as she took to the air, flying patterns and maneuvers that demanded she use every last ounce of strength and dexterity in her possession. Her small size turned to her advantage, as she could twist and dive without fighting the bulk of her own momentum like most of the others. She skillfully and artfully dodged Bludgers and maintained her focus in each and every task they asked of her and, by the time she landed, she was feeling confident.
As she stopped for a break while another group of potential candidates took to the air, she noticed that Draco had arrived to oversee the activity. The meeting with Camille must have ended early, she guessed, because he probably wanted to be here to see his new team prospects. She noted that he looked to be more grumpy than usual and her mind shot back to work, wondering if something bad had happened during the meeting. She trusted Camille completely, but with only a few days before the event, she worried that something unexpected may have come up.
She was asked to fly three more times, each time against different team members or against one of the other candidates. Each time, her mind emptied of all thoughts except flying her ancient broom for all it was worth.
Finally, at the end of the session she lined up with everyone, once again feeling somewhat short, and waited for the final word of her fate.
As the coach looked at the row of competitors critically, the team captain, Roger Egan walked over to her and gave her an encouraging smile.
“Francine, isn't it?”
“Y-yes,” she responded, trying to sound American.
“Is that your broom?” he said, looking at her skeptically.
“A Comet Special 360,” she replied.
“I haven't seen one of those since I was a kid,” he remarked, staring down at the broom. He made a small grunting noise and walked away.
Great. Just great, she muttered to herself.
Shortly after, they were all informed that they'd receive owls in the next week or so with the team decision. Of the two dozen who had applied, there were only three slots available for the practice squad. If chosen for the practice squad, they would be further evaluated for future positions on the starting team.
With those curt words, the coach thanked them for their time and they were dismissed.
Ginny walked off the field, feeling that, regardless of the decision, she'd done her best. Even if nothing came of it, she knew that she had at least tried. She went to the ladies room to change her clothing and charm her appearance back to normal before she left the stadium.
Oliver Wood caught up with her just outside the stadium entrance.
“You did great, Ginny,” he told her.
She smiled up at him. “Well, I did my best, can't ask for more than that, right?”
“Absolutely!” He beamed at her. “I can tell you that Raymond is impressed, especially after Roger noticed that you flew circles around your competition on a broom that's older than most members on the team.”
Ginny chuckled. “Well, I found out early in life that I just have to be that much better to overcome that, especially flying against my brothers. I suppose it's helped over the years.”
She started to move on, wanting to take a walk for a bit before going home. “Ginny.” Oliver stopped her. She turned. “Can I take you to dinner?”
Before she could answer, a rather annoyed drawl came out behind her, “Weasley?”
She felt herself jump nervously. Oh, crap. Malfoy was still here, and apparently just leaving after watching the trials.
All ability to speak coherently seemed to abandon her. “Oh, umm...”
“You missed our meeting today,” he said curtly, looking between her and Oliver.
“I'm sorry. I had some personal business to attend to. ”
“Which just happened to bring you here?” he said suspiciously, his eyes narrowed as he glanced at Oliver once again.
Oh great, he thought she slipped work just to meet up with Oliver on a date or something. She found herself annoyed that he should care. She'd spent the last seven weeks doing nothing but jump at his and his mother's every whim and he had the gall to be annoyed that she missed one little meeting?
“No, Mr. Malfoy,” she responded coldly. “My business was personal. I'm sure Camille will fill me in on any important details first thing tomorrow morning.” With that, she turned to depart, leaving a very annoyed Draco Malfoy behind.
Of course, the next morning, she received an owl from 'him' demanding a reschedule of their missed meeting. Worse, he wanted her to meet at the manor the next day so that Narcissa could also be present, to go over the final schedule.
“Ugh.” Ginny sighed as she read the note, looking over at Camille. “He wasn't too happy that I wasn't here yesterday, was he?”
“I've got to say that it was about as unpleasant as I've ever seen him.”
“You didn't go to school with the prat. He's a master of being unpleasant. I'm only surprised that he's been tolerable for the last two months. It was only a matter of time before his true nature came out.”
“I doubt it's that,” Camille joked. “I think he just likes you,” as she gave Ginny an evil grin.
“Oh, puh-leeze!” Ginny tossed a balled up piece of parchment at her friend. “Next he'll be dipping the end of my braid into the ink pot, is that what you're saying?”
And they giggled and got back to work.
- ~ -
She was going to be so happy in three days when this blasted event would be over and done. Only three more days, and no more Malfoy, no more Narcissa. She could take the week off and then move onto a nice, sane, normal project. She couldn't wait.
As the house-elf opened the door, Ginny automatically started to move in the direction of Narcissa's parlor, where they usually met. She was surprised when the elf led her further down the hall. The dark woodwork along the route was decorated with elegant paintings that caught Ginny's attention, so much so, that she failed to recognize that there were several voices coming from the room that she entered.
The room was a large study with many windows, but the brightness of the room was tempered with deep golden yellow wall coverings and dark cherry woodwork - a man's study. Near the windows sat Draco and Narcissa and, as she recognized the third person, who was standing to rise to greet her, she felt as if all the breath had been knocked out of her. She couldn't breathe.
She hadn't expected Lucius Malfoy to be there also.
Clutching her hand to her tightened chest, she barely muttered an “excuse me,” as she backed quickly out of the room.
She walked stiffly out into the hallway, feeling slightly ill. She'd forgotten about him. After the weeks of working with Narcissa and Draco, she'd dropped her guard. The two had been difficult individuals to work with, but in the end, she had been able to understand them and see them simply as people. Difficult and demanding clients, but people nonetheless.
This was different. This was Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater, and the man who had indirectly tried to kill her twelve years ago.
She'd been so focused on simply doing her job that she'd completely forgotten.
She started to hyperventilate.
Draco hurried into the hall, only a few seconds behind her. His voice showing concern, he asked, “Weasley, are you all right?”
“I just need a minute,” she choked out.
“You look like you've seen a ghost,” he stated.
She just shook her head in a “no”, still looking outright terrified, and very much forcing herself to take deep, calming breaths.
“Oh good,” Draco muttered. “I was worried great-uncle Alastair might be up to his old habits again.”
She stared sourly at him. The ridiculous remark at least got her mind out of the panic so she could breathe again.
“Seriously, Weasley. What's wrong? I'd rather not have you dying in my house. I have a reputation to keep.”
She looked up and saw honest concern in his eyes, taking the edge off his comment. She didn't know if she should say anything or not. She somehow knew that she'd see Lucius at the party but she hadn't been prepared to see him now, in a more private setting, and have to actually interact with the man.
Draco placed a hand on her shoulder and she looked up, taking as deep a breath as she could. “Your father...” she started to say.
Just at that moment, Lucius Malfoy himself exited the study, also appearing concerned.
“Draco, is everything all right here?”
“I think so, Father. Ginevra was just trying to explain what's wrong.”
She stared at Lucius, desperately trying to keep from looking like she was as shaken as she felt. As she looked at the man, she realized he wasn't quite as tall as Draco, and his features no longer seemed as hard as she'd remembered.
As Lucius looked at her, obviously noting that her reaction was due to him, he frowned and the look in his eyes showed something akin to sadness.
“Son, wait inside, please. I'd like to have a word with Miss. Weasley, if you don't mind.”
Draco nodded and looked at Ginny, her eyes begging him not to leave her alone with his father. “It's all right, Ginevra, I'll be right inside here,” he said, motioning toward the open doorway. He and his father exchanged a glance and Draco disappeared into the room.
Ginny stood up as tall as she could and looked directly into Lucius' eyes. She would not show her fear, not if she could help it.
“My presence seems to have affected you,” he started.
“Not at all, Mr. Malfoy. I... I simply needed to ...” she stammered, trying to come up with a plausible excuse to explain her panic attack at the sight of the man.
“Please, Ginevra, there's no need to apologize. I don't wish to cause you any discomfort.”
Discomfort! What an understatement.
“Mr. Malfoy, I'm fine now. Why don't we just go on with the meeting. I presume that you'll be joining us for the final arrangements for Saturday,” she said, trying to sound calm and professional as she took a step to move into the room.
“Please wait, Miss. Weasley. I would like to talk with you privately about a certain matter.”
“Really, Mr. Malfoy there's no need...” He put out a hand and stopped her from stepping closer to the room. She froze and took a deep gulp of air. There was no avoiding this, so she turned to him. “All right then, Mr. Malfoy, what, may I ask, is on your mind?” She tried her best to look as calm and cool as possible but knew that she was failing miserably.
“There is a certain matter for which I feel the need to apologize to you, Miss. Weasley.”
“Excuse me?”
She had to admire the man. He had a charisma that emanated from him; the same charisma she'd seen in Draco. Now that he was looking at her without the sneer that she'd been so accustomed to seeing on him when she was younger, she could understand how and why he'd been so influential in the Ministry in the past.
She looked into his eyes and saw the same sadness that she'd noticed earlier. Draco had said the man had changed, and maybe it was true, but Ginny still felt no compulsion to trust him.
“I understand that you have no love for me. In fact, I am impressed that you are even here considering your past history.”
“I had no idea that you would be present for today's meeting, Mr. Malfoy,” she said.
“I am talking about the last two months of coming to the manor to meet with my wife.”
“It's my job, sir. If I expect to be successful in my chosen career, I can't let past prejudices affect my work.”
He smiled. “I like that answer. Ambition is good motivation, is it not?”
“I suppose it is. But that isn't why you wanted to speak to me, is it?”
“No, it's far more personal than that.” He paused, studying her face closely. She wondered if he was using some form of Legilimency on her, and she didn't really care if he was. If he wanted to see her anger toward him about Tom Riddle's diary, she had no qualms about making it quite clear to him. “You have good reason to dislike me, Miss. Weasley, I won't deny that, but I would like to make clear to you that you have no reason to fear me. I have no wish to do you, or your family, any harm. My time with the Dark Lord is over, and has been for several years.”
Of course, Ginny thought, she had no reason to fear. He'd end up in Azkaban quicker than a Snitch. As for the Dark Lord thing, she sincerely doubted that. He'd said that after the first war also, and look where that took them.
“Circumstances have changed, Ginevra,” he said calmly. “I was betrayed by him as much as any. Worse so, since I almost lost all that I loved because of my loyalty to him. Do not fear my past.”
“I don't fear you,” she lied.
He smiled. “Of course not. You are a Gryffindor, but I don't wish to argue with you.”
She wished he would just get on with what he had to say. He seemed to be delaying.
“I wanted to speak with you because I want to apologize for the wrong I did to you all those years ago.”
What? She felt her mouth drop open.
“It is not easy to admit when one makes a mistake,” he continued, showing some small amusement at the surprise in her reaction. But then his face became serious again, as the sadness returned to his eyes. “I have learned that I was wrong to have followed Voldemort. I can name any number of reasons as to why I chose that path, but they matter not. I make no excuses for the choices I made in following him. But of all the things I have been guilty of, the one thing I most regret has been attempting to use you, when you were a mere child, as an instrument for the Dark Lord's return.”
He was apologizing to her. She tried to wrap her head around the concept but it didn't seem real. She remained silent and he continued.
“I don't ask for your forgiveness, Ginevra, there is no such thing for so heinous of an act. I only ask that you accept my apology, and not hold my actions against my family.”
She remained stonily silent, gaping at him. Finally, after what seemed like several minutes of silence, she replied, “I don't know what to say to that, Mr. Malfoy.”
“You needn't say anything. Just consider my words. I truly do regret harming you, Ginevra, and I am eternally grateful that Riddle's efforts with you failed.”
She nodded mutely. She couldn't say anything to either accept or reject his words. As he'd said, all she could do was consider them.
He motioned to invite her back into the room. “Now, shall we join the others and discuss more pleasant topics?”
She followed him into the room. Draco was waiting for them just inside the doorway. She had little doubt that he had over heard everything and was grateful that he'd been nearby during the entire encounter. He gently placed his hand on her back and guided her over to the table where the four discussed the final preparations and schedule for the ball.
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