Disclaimer: Sorry, don’t own the characters, just the plot. Bows down to JKR in all her magnificence.
Night at the MuOM
Part One
She hoped it would be an interesting night tonight.
Ginevra Weasley stood just inside the entrance doors of the Museum of Magic. She plastered a small smile on her face, folded her hands demurely in front of her and calmly waited for the guests to arrive.
Ginny had been at the Museum for a year now. Her official title was Museum Assistant. It sounded slightly prestigious, but in all honesty, it meant that she had to do all the mundane grunt work that the older and more educated witches and wizards did not want to do. For starters, her job tonight was to point guests in the direction of the Cloak Check. Sometimes she’d get to point them toward the loo.
Very exciting stuff.
In truth, Ginny was only a year out of Hogwarts and had been extremely lucky to get a position here. It was a jumping off point she’d often tell herself. A place to network and get some experience in her field of study, but so far, it had lead nowhere except to picking up discarded Vilion Champagne flutes that the caterers had missed after receptions, such as the one that was about to begin.
Giant corporations and consortiums, as well as groups of obscure professionals (once, Ginny had supervised an event where all the guests had been Displaced Grindylow Barristers) liked to rent out the museum in the evenings for big dinners or receptions. They would often eat a house-elf catered dinner and wax poetic about what a great company they were, or how important such and such was to the future of the wizarding world (though seldom it really was). They cared naught for the museum or the treasures it held. It was only the prestige of the museum itself that mattered. It spoke of culture and education, and was something the guests wanted to associate themselves with, despite their lack of actual interest in the history it held.
Ginny had surmised that their lack of enthusiasm about history began early. Most likely it was at Hogwarts, when they had all been forced to hear Binns drone on for hours in History of Magic class. Yes, he certainly knew how to make the past seem as dull as a worn-out knut. But this was her job, take it or leave it, and she would much rather be working here, in these majestic surroundings, then stuck at Madame Malkin’s, trying to entice shoppers into buying the matching skirt and robe set.
Tonight was going to be more interesting than most nights.
It was a birthday celebration. Normally the museum didn’t rent out for things like this, but hey they couldn’t be too picky, throw us enough galleons and we’ll consider anything, as long as we can get the new exhibit space we’ve been saving up for.
The birthday boy was turning 120, a ripe old age indeed. He was now applicable for a senior’s discount at the barber’s or the first Tuesday of every month at the grocer’s. But this man, Henry Midas Wolfboro Cambury, would never use these new privileges. For he was a member of the Wizarding elite. New money, for sure, but a member nonetheless. His money had been made during the British Industrial Revolution, a mere two hundred years previous. Old Money families flocked to him though, wanting to increase their own riches by investing in his many forays. Ginny had heard that the Zabini’s had doubled their fortune in a decade by getting on Cambury’s good side.
Yes, it will be an interesting night tonight.
Wizards in formal dress robes, with witches on their arms dressed in gauzy chiffon, began to sweep into the lobby at seven thirty. A fashionable time to begin a party most thought, neither too early nor too late (especially considering the advanced age of some of the guests).
Ginny became slightly nervous as the guests continued to enter. They completely ignored her, not even a ‘hello’ or ‘good evening’ as she greeted them. They pretended as if she wasn’t there at all.
Peculiar behavior.
At most other events, guests would be polite, ask a few vague questions and wander off in search of free butterbeer or firewhiskey. But the guests tonight were a whole different cauldron of newts. The lobby was now full of cheek-kissing, nose-sniffing, pureblooded Elites. The expensive cologne was stifling, as was the haute-couture that was dripping off the ladies. She recognized many of the faces in the room. The Malfoys (minus Lucius, of course) were there, shadowed by a reluctant Lord Snape. The Zabinis. the Notts, the Aberfoyles (of Wiltshire), the Darlingtons, the Greengrasses and so forth. Ginny had never in her life felt so much like ‘the help’ before.
The lobby was filling to capacity and Ginny was pushed, by the socializing crowd, into a corner near the gift shop. She felt outclassed and underprivileged by merely standing in the room. She nervously twisted her signet ring around on her right hand ring finger. The crest embossed on the rather plain ring identified her as part of the ‘wizarding elite’ that she was now being penned in by. Passed on through the females of her mother’s line, it showed that she was a pureblooded witch of a rare and important line. The ring itself could be traced back to the eleventh century.
The continued existence of the ring proved that the women in her family knew what history was. They prided themselves on it, recounting the tales of their foremothers to their young daughters as one would normally tell a bedtime fairy tale. Females were seldom born into this line, and those that were, always held a special place within the family. It was Ginny’s fascination in the line of headstrong and ebullient women that had led to her passion for all things ancient. Not so much the thing, but more the story it held. She intended to research methods to charm items into revealing their stories. Experimental work was already being done and she wanted to get in on the ground floor and contribute.
Ginny decided to try and squeeze through the throngs of party-goers to get to the staff room and a much needed break. They were all distracted anyway, doing a toast for their dear, money-grubbing, Henry. She was doing well, and made it through the majority of them without disruption. However, just as she was about to slip through to the hallway that led to the staff room, her ring, loosed from the constant twisting, fell onto the highly polished black marble at her feet, and rolled between set after set of shiny black shoes and deadly looking stilettos. It stopped when it hit a pair of dragon hide loafers, casual and elegant, and winked out of sight, the hem from the man’s dress robes hiding it from view.
A quick surge of panic flooded Ginny, she couldn’t lose that ring, her ancestors would not only roll in their graves but curse her until her dying day as well, and probably beyond that, she would bet. Her eyes which had been glued to the rolling ring, followed the hem of the robes that hid it, up towards the face of the man she would have to ingratiate herself to, in able to get her ring back. She squeaked as she saw the pointed aristocratic nose and the platinum blonde hair tied in a chignon at the nape of his neck. Draco Malfoy, now the current Lord Malfoy, stood listening with a bored expression to the speech of the birthday boy, completely unaware of the piece of jewelry that had decided to play hide and seek using his expensive Giabriatti formal robe.
Ginny crept through the crowd towards Malfoy, willing herself to act as professional as possible and thereby creating the least amount of commotion. She would simply ask politely for it. She was his equal, if not in wealth, at least in wizarding status, and she could do this. She made it to him and hesitantly tapped his shoulder.
“Excuse me, Lord Malfoy.”
He turned and raised a questioning eyebrow at her, not instantly recognizing her. He was not used to ‘the help’ accosting him as such, even if it was as fetching as this girl in front of him was.
“If you would be so kind, my ring has fallen beside your shoe.”
“Indeed?”
He spoke softly to her, drawing no attention away from the droning speech coming from Henry. He bent down and carelessly pushed his robe away, seeing the glint of the small signet ring lying there. Picking it up slowly, he brought it up to examine it.
‘What was a servant girl doing with a crest ring. Unless she was..’
He glanced up at the girl again, who was now biting her lower lip, waiting for the return of her beloved heirloom. Yes, yes it was. Funny, how after a couple of years people can change so much.
“Here you are, Miss Weasley.” He said with a faint smirk residing on his lips, placing the ring carefully in her open palm.
“You ought to be more careful with that. There aren’t so many of those around anymore.” He quietly admonished.
Ginny watched as he subconsciously twisted his own signet ring in a wistful gesture. With her keen eye for antiques, she could tell it was a replica. A very good and expensive one, but it didn’t hold nearly the age that hers did. She itched to ask what had happened to his, knowing how sacred the items were to those of pureblooded lineage. Blast the history detective in her, this was neither the time nor place to ask. Knowing how curiosity killed the kneazle, she bit her tongue and said a reserved ‘thank you’, inclining her head slightly to him and slipping out of the crowd towards the staff room.
The evening wore on.
Cases upon cases of Vilion Champagne were drunk and the crowd got rowdier. Severus had left hours ago, having only come to stop Draco’s incessant badgering about turning into a ‘reclusive old dunderhead’. Draco, now without Sev to converse with, had fallen into a state of complete boredom. He had had to attend because of his position in the family and as an escort for his mother. She absolutely loved these things and would be here until midnight, gossiping and toasting, whirling about with the crème of society.
And that meant he would be here until the end as well.
The only interesting thing that had happened was encountering the littlest Weasley and rescuing her ring from the trampling hordes. He wondered what she was doing here of all places. Obviously working, but as to why here, he had no clue and was mildly intrigued by the young woman she had become. He mused about her professional and refined demeanor. She was obviously comfortable working in a grand atmosphere such as this and dealing with all manner of elite witches and wizards.
Working his way over to the bar, he obtained a glass of Hogwan Brandy and slipped out the main doors to enjoy his drink and an imported cigar. A guilty pleasure that he didn’t often indulge in.
He walked around the building, hoping to find something, such as a rock, that he could transfigure into a comfortable seat.
What he found was even better.
Ginevra Weasley was leaning against a bench, holding a steaming cup of tea. It looked like she had had a long night. She started slightly when he sat down beside her. She watched as he pulled out and lit his cigar, dipping the end into his brandy before every puff. He was quiet, contemplative. Very different then the Draco she had known at school. Then again, she hadn’t really known him at school very much, just as he had not known her.
They had been dragged into the war by their families, and war can do very strange things to people. What exactly his part had been in the war, she wasn’t sure. But he seemed thick as thieves with Snape through his seventh year, and she assumed that he had turned spy as the Potions master had done.
Turning back to her tea, she took a comforting sip, willing the people in the museum to leave as soon as possible. It was already 11:30pm and she would have to clean up and wait for the caterers to leave before she could apparate home. It was going to be a long night if they continued to revel.
“Do you never get tired of it all?” she asked the man seated beside her quietly.
He smiled slightly. “Why do you think I’m out here, Miss Weasley?”
“Ginny, please.”
“Draco, then.”
“Sometimes I imagine that it would be nice, to once attend one of the galas thrown here, instead of having to work at them.”
“Really?”
“Ye-e-s, but after an evening like this, I can’t imagine having to act like them, no offense meant.”
“Of course not.”
He considered her, a pretty, intelligent, pureblooded witch with a position at the acclaimed MuOM. In his opinion, his past behavior towards her family was negligible, it had been war and certain appearances had had to be kept up in his line of work. Now, he was finding himself rather interested in the young witch.
“I daresay, the life of a socialite is entirely exhausting. My mother, bless her heart, is terribly fond of engagements such as this. She gets to flit about, and kiss everyone she loves, gossip about everyone she hates, and have and all-round brill evening. I’m sure I won’t see her til midday tomorrow, if that.”
Ginny grinned into the night.
“That’s the trouble, I was never brought up to do much flitting. A tragic oversight on my pureblood education, no doubt.”
Draco chuckled.
“Yes, very tragic. Well, as you can see, I never much cared for flitting either. Didn’t really suit me, nor Severus either, judging from his early exit tonight, the lucky sod. I fear I’ll turn into that godfather of mine one day, just have to move my rooms to the dungeons and wash my hair less I suppose, and the transformation will be complete.”
They both laughed softly at the image created and were silent for a few moments, Ginny sipping her tea, and Draco smoking. Both opened their mouths to ask a question at the same time.
“Why are you working here?”
“What happened to your ring?”
They laughed again at their eagerness. Feeling comfortable in each other’s company. Ginny checked her wristwatch, the second hand was ticking towards ‘work’ and away from ‘break’. She sighed and started to get up.
“I’m sorry Draco but I have to get back in there, who knows what’s going on, what with the large amount of liquor that’s been consumed, I’ll be lucky if I don’t find a bunch of splinched elegantly dressed legs walking around. Feel free to stay out here, the rest of the staff have already had their breaks so you won’t be bothered.”
“Thanks Ginny, I think I will. Will you be here until the end tonight?”
“Yes, and for a little while afterwards, supervising the clean-up.”
“Good, that will give me time to take my mother home.”
“Pardon?”
“I intend to walk you home. Our conversation isn’t finished. I believe you still have to ask me about my ring, and I still have to ask you about why you’re at this old place.”
He smiled at her, swirling the remaining liquid in his glass, his eyes seeking her approval.
“I’ll wait out front.”
She grinned and headed through the staff door behind her.
Yes, tonight was definitely more interesting than most nights.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Author’s etc: Originally a one-shot, this story has grown and will soon be a two-part chronicle.
Thanks for reading and reviewing… Cheers, sweetp.
Note to Cabal: Hope I've fixed the formatting problem, saved as plain text, then copied and pasted, looks fine when I preview it...have also fixed canon name, as suggested, thanks!
Part One
She hoped it would be an interesting night tonight.
Ginevra Weasley stood just inside the entrance doors of the Museum of Magic. She plastered a small smile on her face, folded her hands demurely in front of her and calmly waited for the guests to arrive.
Ginny had been at the Museum for a year now. Her official title was Museum Assistant. It sounded slightly prestigious, but in all honesty, it meant that she had to do all the mundane grunt work that the older and more educated witches and wizards did not want to do. For starters, her job tonight was to point guests in the direction of the Cloak Check. Sometimes she’d get to point them toward the loo.
Very exciting stuff.
In truth, Ginny was only a year out of Hogwarts and had been extremely lucky to get a position here. It was a jumping off point she’d often tell herself. A place to network and get some experience in her field of study, but so far, it had lead nowhere except to picking up discarded Vilion Champagne flutes that the caterers had missed after receptions, such as the one that was about to begin.
Giant corporations and consortiums, as well as groups of obscure professionals (once, Ginny had supervised an event where all the guests had been Displaced Grindylow Barristers) liked to rent out the museum in the evenings for big dinners or receptions. They would often eat a house-elf catered dinner and wax poetic about what a great company they were, or how important such and such was to the future of the wizarding world (though seldom it really was). They cared naught for the museum or the treasures it held. It was only the prestige of the museum itself that mattered. It spoke of culture and education, and was something the guests wanted to associate themselves with, despite their lack of actual interest in the history it held.
Ginny had surmised that their lack of enthusiasm about history began early. Most likely it was at Hogwarts, when they had all been forced to hear Binns drone on for hours in History of Magic class. Yes, he certainly knew how to make the past seem as dull as a worn-out knut. But this was her job, take it or leave it, and she would much rather be working here, in these majestic surroundings, then stuck at Madame Malkin’s, trying to entice shoppers into buying the matching skirt and robe set.
Tonight was going to be more interesting than most nights.
It was a birthday celebration. Normally the museum didn’t rent out for things like this, but hey they couldn’t be too picky, throw us enough galleons and we’ll consider anything, as long as we can get the new exhibit space we’ve been saving up for.
The birthday boy was turning 120, a ripe old age indeed. He was now applicable for a senior’s discount at the barber’s or the first Tuesday of every month at the grocer’s. But this man, Henry Midas Wolfboro Cambury, would never use these new privileges. For he was a member of the Wizarding elite. New money, for sure, but a member nonetheless. His money had been made during the British Industrial Revolution, a mere two hundred years previous. Old Money families flocked to him though, wanting to increase their own riches by investing in his many forays. Ginny had heard that the Zabini’s had doubled their fortune in a decade by getting on Cambury’s good side.
Yes, it will be an interesting night tonight.
Wizards in formal dress robes, with witches on their arms dressed in gauzy chiffon, began to sweep into the lobby at seven thirty. A fashionable time to begin a party most thought, neither too early nor too late (especially considering the advanced age of some of the guests).
Ginny became slightly nervous as the guests continued to enter. They completely ignored her, not even a ‘hello’ or ‘good evening’ as she greeted them. They pretended as if she wasn’t there at all.
Peculiar behavior.
At most other events, guests would be polite, ask a few vague questions and wander off in search of free butterbeer or firewhiskey. But the guests tonight were a whole different cauldron of newts. The lobby was now full of cheek-kissing, nose-sniffing, pureblooded Elites. The expensive cologne was stifling, as was the haute-couture that was dripping off the ladies. She recognized many of the faces in the room. The Malfoys (minus Lucius, of course) were there, shadowed by a reluctant Lord Snape. The Zabinis. the Notts, the Aberfoyles (of Wiltshire), the Darlingtons, the Greengrasses and so forth. Ginny had never in her life felt so much like ‘the help’ before.
The lobby was filling to capacity and Ginny was pushed, by the socializing crowd, into a corner near the gift shop. She felt outclassed and underprivileged by merely standing in the room. She nervously twisted her signet ring around on her right hand ring finger. The crest embossed on the rather plain ring identified her as part of the ‘wizarding elite’ that she was now being penned in by. Passed on through the females of her mother’s line, it showed that she was a pureblooded witch of a rare and important line. The ring itself could be traced back to the eleventh century.
The continued existence of the ring proved that the women in her family knew what history was. They prided themselves on it, recounting the tales of their foremothers to their young daughters as one would normally tell a bedtime fairy tale. Females were seldom born into this line, and those that were, always held a special place within the family. It was Ginny’s fascination in the line of headstrong and ebullient women that had led to her passion for all things ancient. Not so much the thing, but more the story it held. She intended to research methods to charm items into revealing their stories. Experimental work was already being done and she wanted to get in on the ground floor and contribute.
Ginny decided to try and squeeze through the throngs of party-goers to get to the staff room and a much needed break. They were all distracted anyway, doing a toast for their dear, money-grubbing, Henry. She was doing well, and made it through the majority of them without disruption. However, just as she was about to slip through to the hallway that led to the staff room, her ring, loosed from the constant twisting, fell onto the highly polished black marble at her feet, and rolled between set after set of shiny black shoes and deadly looking stilettos. It stopped when it hit a pair of dragon hide loafers, casual and elegant, and winked out of sight, the hem from the man’s dress robes hiding it from view.
A quick surge of panic flooded Ginny, she couldn’t lose that ring, her ancestors would not only roll in their graves but curse her until her dying day as well, and probably beyond that, she would bet. Her eyes which had been glued to the rolling ring, followed the hem of the robes that hid it, up towards the face of the man she would have to ingratiate herself to, in able to get her ring back. She squeaked as she saw the pointed aristocratic nose and the platinum blonde hair tied in a chignon at the nape of his neck. Draco Malfoy, now the current Lord Malfoy, stood listening with a bored expression to the speech of the birthday boy, completely unaware of the piece of jewelry that had decided to play hide and seek using his expensive Giabriatti formal robe.
Ginny crept through the crowd towards Malfoy, willing herself to act as professional as possible and thereby creating the least amount of commotion. She would simply ask politely for it. She was his equal, if not in wealth, at least in wizarding status, and she could do this. She made it to him and hesitantly tapped his shoulder.
“Excuse me, Lord Malfoy.”
He turned and raised a questioning eyebrow at her, not instantly recognizing her. He was not used to ‘the help’ accosting him as such, even if it was as fetching as this girl in front of him was.
“If you would be so kind, my ring has fallen beside your shoe.”
“Indeed?”
He spoke softly to her, drawing no attention away from the droning speech coming from Henry. He bent down and carelessly pushed his robe away, seeing the glint of the small signet ring lying there. Picking it up slowly, he brought it up to examine it.
‘What was a servant girl doing with a crest ring. Unless she was..’
He glanced up at the girl again, who was now biting her lower lip, waiting for the return of her beloved heirloom. Yes, yes it was. Funny, how after a couple of years people can change so much.
“Here you are, Miss Weasley.” He said with a faint smirk residing on his lips, placing the ring carefully in her open palm.
“You ought to be more careful with that. There aren’t so many of those around anymore.” He quietly admonished.
Ginny watched as he subconsciously twisted his own signet ring in a wistful gesture. With her keen eye for antiques, she could tell it was a replica. A very good and expensive one, but it didn’t hold nearly the age that hers did. She itched to ask what had happened to his, knowing how sacred the items were to those of pureblooded lineage. Blast the history detective in her, this was neither the time nor place to ask. Knowing how curiosity killed the kneazle, she bit her tongue and said a reserved ‘thank you’, inclining her head slightly to him and slipping out of the crowd towards the staff room.
The evening wore on.
Cases upon cases of Vilion Champagne were drunk and the crowd got rowdier. Severus had left hours ago, having only come to stop Draco’s incessant badgering about turning into a ‘reclusive old dunderhead’. Draco, now without Sev to converse with, had fallen into a state of complete boredom. He had had to attend because of his position in the family and as an escort for his mother. She absolutely loved these things and would be here until midnight, gossiping and toasting, whirling about with the crème of society.
And that meant he would be here until the end as well.
The only interesting thing that had happened was encountering the littlest Weasley and rescuing her ring from the trampling hordes. He wondered what she was doing here of all places. Obviously working, but as to why here, he had no clue and was mildly intrigued by the young woman she had become. He mused about her professional and refined demeanor. She was obviously comfortable working in a grand atmosphere such as this and dealing with all manner of elite witches and wizards.
Working his way over to the bar, he obtained a glass of Hogwan Brandy and slipped out the main doors to enjoy his drink and an imported cigar. A guilty pleasure that he didn’t often indulge in.
He walked around the building, hoping to find something, such as a rock, that he could transfigure into a comfortable seat.
What he found was even better.
Ginevra Weasley was leaning against a bench, holding a steaming cup of tea. It looked like she had had a long night. She started slightly when he sat down beside her. She watched as he pulled out and lit his cigar, dipping the end into his brandy before every puff. He was quiet, contemplative. Very different then the Draco she had known at school. Then again, she hadn’t really known him at school very much, just as he had not known her.
They had been dragged into the war by their families, and war can do very strange things to people. What exactly his part had been in the war, she wasn’t sure. But he seemed thick as thieves with Snape through his seventh year, and she assumed that he had turned spy as the Potions master had done.
Turning back to her tea, she took a comforting sip, willing the people in the museum to leave as soon as possible. It was already 11:30pm and she would have to clean up and wait for the caterers to leave before she could apparate home. It was going to be a long night if they continued to revel.
“Do you never get tired of it all?” she asked the man seated beside her quietly.
He smiled slightly. “Why do you think I’m out here, Miss Weasley?”
“Ginny, please.”
“Draco, then.”
“Sometimes I imagine that it would be nice, to once attend one of the galas thrown here, instead of having to work at them.”
“Really?”
“Ye-e-s, but after an evening like this, I can’t imagine having to act like them, no offense meant.”
“Of course not.”
He considered her, a pretty, intelligent, pureblooded witch with a position at the acclaimed MuOM. In his opinion, his past behavior towards her family was negligible, it had been war and certain appearances had had to be kept up in his line of work. Now, he was finding himself rather interested in the young witch.
“I daresay, the life of a socialite is entirely exhausting. My mother, bless her heart, is terribly fond of engagements such as this. She gets to flit about, and kiss everyone she loves, gossip about everyone she hates, and have and all-round brill evening. I’m sure I won’t see her til midday tomorrow, if that.”
Ginny grinned into the night.
“That’s the trouble, I was never brought up to do much flitting. A tragic oversight on my pureblood education, no doubt.”
Draco chuckled.
“Yes, very tragic. Well, as you can see, I never much cared for flitting either. Didn’t really suit me, nor Severus either, judging from his early exit tonight, the lucky sod. I fear I’ll turn into that godfather of mine one day, just have to move my rooms to the dungeons and wash my hair less I suppose, and the transformation will be complete.”
They both laughed softly at the image created and were silent for a few moments, Ginny sipping her tea, and Draco smoking. Both opened their mouths to ask a question at the same time.
“Why are you working here?”
“What happened to your ring?”
They laughed again at their eagerness. Feeling comfortable in each other’s company. Ginny checked her wristwatch, the second hand was ticking towards ‘work’ and away from ‘break’. She sighed and started to get up.
“I’m sorry Draco but I have to get back in there, who knows what’s going on, what with the large amount of liquor that’s been consumed, I’ll be lucky if I don’t find a bunch of splinched elegantly dressed legs walking around. Feel free to stay out here, the rest of the staff have already had their breaks so you won’t be bothered.”
“Thanks Ginny, I think I will. Will you be here until the end tonight?”
“Yes, and for a little while afterwards, supervising the clean-up.”
“Good, that will give me time to take my mother home.”
“Pardon?”
“I intend to walk you home. Our conversation isn’t finished. I believe you still have to ask me about my ring, and I still have to ask you about why you’re at this old place.”
He smiled at her, swirling the remaining liquid in his glass, his eyes seeking her approval.
“I’ll wait out front.”
She grinned and headed through the staff door behind her.
Yes, tonight was definitely more interesting than most nights.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Author’s etc: Originally a one-shot, this story has grown and will soon be a two-part chronicle.
Thanks for reading and reviewing… Cheers, sweetp.
Note to Cabal: Hope I've fixed the formatting problem, saved as plain text, then copied and pasted, looks fine when I preview it...have also fixed canon name, as suggested, thanks!
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