*
Part III
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Lucius and Narcissa insisted on attending the press conference despite Draco’s continued efforts to dissuade them. The foursome Apparated early to Prophet Publishing and Narcissa kissed them both before accompanying Lucius in his quest for seats. She had become quite fond of Ginny in the past four weeks, even going so far as to loan her something appropriate for the occasion.
Ginny was wearing a white sundress with a scalloped hem and halter neckline. Gold sandals and a shimmery shawl complemented tastefully applied make-up and completed the ensemble. The weather was rather humid, so she had secured her hair in a loose chignon, allowing a few tendrils to frame her face. She looked quite pretty and Draco told her so.
“You clean up nicely,” were his exact words and he smirked when she blushed at the compliment. She thwacked him on the arm, irritated when that only served to amuse him more. That was how Pansy found them and her eyebrows knitted together when she saw Ginny. Draco hovered awkwardly for a moment between the two women before recovering himself. He hadn’t seen Pansy in several days.
“I assume you’ve been busy?” Pansy prompted.
Draco smirked smugly. “I have two-thirds of the ninth instalment written and the rest of the chapters planned out. I even have ideas for the next two books.”
Pansy could see that Draco was delighted and while she was happy for him, she was also a tad bit jealous. Who was this social climbing nobody to waltz in and inspire Draco away from her?
Pansy watched in disbelief as Draco tugged on a lock of Weasley’s hair, eyes dancing with mischief when she turned to retaliate.
“Has she been a good Muse, then?” Pansy asked evenly.
“Invaluable,” Draco agreed.
Pansy hesitated, but Granger appeared.
“Ginny,” she said in surprise. “I didn’t expect you to see you here.”
Ginny faltered, glancing at Draco in concern. “I- I’m a big fan of Malfoy’s,” she covered hastily.
“Well, you’re not allowed back here, if that’s the case. Malfoy, they’re ready for you. Parkinson, you’ve got a front row seat. ”
She took Ginny firmly by the arm and steered her into the conference room. Ginny should have known Hermione would be there; after all she was Malfoy’s editor. That would also mean that Fred was around somewhere. Sitting with family was better than sitting with Parkinson, but Ginny couldn’t prevent a small sigh from escaping.
Draco began a short speech about the Namesake Chronicles, divulging no details about his disappearance, but hinting that a new instalment would be on the shelves very soon. Hermione was watching Draco closely, with all the paranoia of an editor whose writer is known to be unpredictable. Fred kept trying to get her to calm down. It was diverting, but Ginny kept her attention on the man at the podium. After a brief question and answer session where Draco cleverly outwitted most of the reporters seeking sordid details, refreshments were served.
Ginny managed to escape from Hermione and Fred long enough for Draco to accost her.
“You’re doing the reading with me,” he told her.
“What makes you so sure I will?” she asked challengingly. In truth, she was a little exhilarated at reading a scene from Draco’s manuscript. The snatches he had shown her while he was working had been entertaining, to say the least. She thought the novel quite good for something that was obviously popular fiction.
Draco arched an eyebrow at her, daring her to say no.
“Why?” she asked instead.
“It’s partly yours,” he answered and Ginny’s heart warmed until he added. “Well, I put in all of the actual work, but you helped. A little.”
She smacked him on the arm and would have changed her mind, except he tugged at her hair then and something tugged at her heart. What? She blinked, tearing her eyes away from Draco’s face. Did she actually like the git? Unfortunately, it would seem so, she thought, watching as he returned to the podium. Then she was holding her breath as he invited her to read, and Pansy’s venomous looks bounced off her painlessly. There was some scattered applause as Draco handed her a manuscript opened to chapter twenty-three. The section was all dialogue and Ginny wondered what he would have done if she’d refused. He began.
“You would run from me?”
“To the ends of the earth if it meant I never had to die again.”
“Do not attempt such foolishness. I am far more powerful than you could imagine.”
“Ha! What you call power, I call arrogance, conceit –”
“It takes a brave mortal to laugh in the face of such danger.”
“I am no more mortal than you are. Did you think I was easily intimidated?”
“Your desire for me frightens you.”
“I feel no such thing – do not touch me!”
“Liar, I can read the truth in your eyes. Your skin screams for my touch. Relax, Gwendolyn, and trust me.”
“Never!”
“Then you leave me no choice.”
And he kissed her. Yes, it was part of the scene, but Ginny swore that even the cameras stopped flashing for that one perfect moment. The audience held a collective breath as Draco’s lips brushed teasingly over her own. Ginny felt a spark of desire jump between them, then Parkinson exhaled harshly and the trance was broken. Ginny felt a tingling in her right hand. She gasped when she saw the ring disappear and checked to see if Draco’s had done the same.
“You –” she began in a strangled voice, and someone cleared her throat.
She shook her head, cheeks flaming, oblivious to the intense way Draco was watching her. His gaze shifted elsewhere, jaw clenching as he returned to the podium all smiles and charm to give his thanks and wrap up the function. Ginny wanted to disappear; she couldn’t look at Draco, couldn’t look at anyone really, so she did a most un-Gryffindor thing: she ran.
-x-
Two days later, Ginny was sitting in the kitchen at the Burrow, clutching her cup of tea like a lifeline. She’d spent the day before agonizing over the events at the press conference, replaying each embarrassing moment and mentally berating herself for being such an idiot. Of course Malfoy would make good use of the fact that she was his Muse and magically contracted to foster his creative process in whatever way she could. The kiss was nothing more than an extension of that.
The argument sounded weak even to her, but how else could she explain her response to him? Once the rings had vanished, she’d immediately become aware that she had just kissed Draco Malfoy in front of a dozen reporters and her brother, no less. How could she have stayed? A traitorous voice replied that she would have stayed if Draco hadn’t let her go. She shut it up with more tea.
Hermione entered the kitchen then with something tucked under her arm. With an absent ‘Morning, Gin’ she approached the teapot to pour herself a cuppa and Ginny caught sight of the papers or, more accurately, the manuscript the other witch held.
“Can I see that?” she asked Hermione, pleased that her voice came out steadily despite the bundle of nerves she felt on the inside.
Hermione hesitated, looking at Ginny with motherly concern before handing her the first draft of the Namesake Chronicles’ ninth instalment. Ginny ran her fingers unsteadily over the author’s name, and flipped open the front cover. The title page was blank as she’d predicted. Only Draco could write an entire novel and still have trouble coming up with two words for the title. Her fingers froze on the next page, and Ginny sucked in a breath as her eyes registered the words
Something pricked the back of her eyelids and she set her tea down with shaking hands, pressing her palm to the page as if to absorb the printed words. All of a sudden her mind was in a tizzy and she got up hastily from the table to address Hermione.
“I’m leaving,” she spoke quickly. “Tell Mum,” she frowned. “Tell Mum I’ve gone out,” she decided to say.
Hermione gave a large sigh and collected the manuscript as Ginny dashed into the fireplace, throwing down the Floo powder with a loud ‘Malfoy Manor!’.
There was no Narcissa Malfoy to greet her this time as she stumbled out of the gilded fireplace into a brightly lit room. No elves, either. Not that it mattered to her as her feet easily found the path that led to Draco’s study. Only when she stood outside the door did she hesitate, hand raised to knock and heart thudding loudly in her ears. What if she was about to walk in on him and Pansy?
With a scowl, she opened the door and her eyes narrowed as they scanned the room. No undergarments flung wildly about as evidence of a torrid passion . . . not yet anyway. In fact she couldn’t even see Draco.
“Are you going to stand there all day?” a voice asked, cutting through her thoughts.
She started in surprise and moved further into the room, finally spotting Draco where he reclined on her window seat. She moved towards him, regaining some of her old confidence. If he was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it, simply continued sitting with one leg drawn up and an arm resting casually on his knee. His hair had fallen forward to cover part of his face and as silly as it sounded (in fact, Ginny thought acerbically, it sounded like something Gwendolyn would do) Ginny wanted to brush it away.
She cocked one hand on her hip and looked at him. “I came to thank you for the acknowledgment – in the novel” she clarified, wishing he would look at her.
“Dedication,” he corrected.
“Beg pardon?”
“What I wrote was a dedication; I dedicated the book to you,” Draco explained, finally meeting her eyes.
This time, paradoxically, Ginny glanced away. “Well, thank you.” Part of her was wondering if this was it. What was the point of running here in her pyjamas to confront an indifferent Draco? This isn’t the way it works in novels, she thought with frustration. Bloody hell, he’s the author, let him come up with something.
“Come here,” Draco ordered. At that moment, Ginny couldn’t have not gone.
“What now?” she asked, hoping the hint of irritation in her voice belied her nervousness.
“Well,” Draco began, “I have a proposition for you.”
“As long as it doesn’t involve me wearing a sheet,” Ginny interrupted.
Draco smirked and ran his eyes down the length of her body in a way that made Ginny shiver.
“My mother already thinks we’re engaged, you know,” he mentioned casually, retuning his gaze to the window. Ginny waited; surely he didn’t want her to break the news to Narcissa. She had a feeling the woman wouldn’t take that lightly.
Draco was still talking. “And you know how I hate to disappoint my mother,” - Ginny’s heart jumped - “So why don’t we continue this charade for a while longer and see where it leads.” – and soared. Then plummeted.
“Pansy,” she said deadpan.
Draco scowled and then his expression cleared. “I’m not sleeping with her,” he answered evenly.
“Anymore,” Ginny added under her breath, not even bothering to hide the relief she felt. “I’m not your Muse either,” she told him sternly.
“You were rubbish at it anyway,” Draco shot back. “I’ll just have to show you how to inspire someone properly.”
And he took advantage of the moment to give her a demonstration. With his lips. Any remonstrance Ginny would have had was swept away by the feel of his lips on hers, and she reflected on considerable merits of inspiring a Malfoy.
Author notes: I hope you liked it. And even if you didn't, leave me a review! ;)
The End.
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