Ginny Weasley busily folded her last piece of clothing and pushed it into her composition paper suitcase as the June sun beat down on her from her open window. Her red hair was pulled back into a haphazard plait and small tendrils were falling into her coffee eyes, hazing her vision just slightly. She sighed perceptibly as she fell against her rickety bed, collapsing in a heap of hand made bed linens and pillows.
“Ginny, the train is leaving in twenty minutes,” Hermione Granger called from the doorway, smiling as sweetly as possible at the sighing girl. Her own auburn hair was clipped against the back of her head and she was standing in the least revealing bathing suit she had to have owned.
“Yes I know Hermione, thanks.”
“Are you ready to go yet?” she asked warmly, moving to sit beside her. Ginny moaned as she sat up, running a freckle smattered arm across her forehead. Yes, she had thought a lot about her summer since she applied for the position. Her job had been puzzling, to say the least. No detail, only an address to report to promptly. But she needed the money, and going away to do so would be the most beneficial thing at the moment. She nodded solemnly as two more bodies appeared at her doorway, one the spitting image of her and the other, slightly shorter, was bespectacled.
“Hullo Ron…Harry.”
“Hey Gin, you ready for your first day on the job?” Harry questioned her timidly, barely stepping inside the sun filtered room. Ron on the other hand had crossed the room flamboyantly and punched his sister lightly in the shoulder before rubbing her head absentmindedly with his palms. She groaned at him as he released her and she stood.
“I will be fine. Tutoring can’t honestly be that horrible.”
“Even though you don’t know who it is,” Ron interjected.
“Does that really matter?” Ginny shot back defensively, “I obviously have the marks for Dumbledore to even request me to tutor someone in Charms, so I am sure whoever it is won’t be too much to handle.”
“You will do wonderfully Gin,” Hermione responded, almost in a faux attempt to smooth over Ron’s obviously blundered statement. This only made Ginny cringe more, as the thought of her brother and Hermione dating only brought sickness to her stomach. It wasn’t as if she didn’t like Hermione, quite the contrary she really admired the girl. But their new relationship only kept Ginny at a farther distance from the group of friends that she had found herself trying to be accustomed to living quite desolately. And, even at her age, desolate was never enjoyable.
Both Ron and Hermione stood awkwardly, grabbing each other’s hands and sliding out of the room.
Probably to snog, Ginny thought to herself, as she watched the couple go. She began to shuffle through the remaining of her belongings, making her bed, and straightening up before she realized that Harry still stood at her doorway, staring oddly at her through his spectacles.
“Do you need something Harry?” she asked cautiously, keeping her back to him as she moved about her room.
“No, just wanted to properly say goodbye I suppose,” he muttered. She turned then, suitcase in hand, and her eyes scanned him covetously. He had always been “perfect” in her mind, even before she had met him. It probably had started those late nights when she was little, when her mother would sit her down and tell her stories of the wizard that had saved them all. Or it could have started when he had rescued her from the Basilisk second year, winning over her heart in his heroic triumph. But she knew more than anything, now in the summer before her sixth year at Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry, that he wasn’t “perfect”. He was arrogant and self centered and thought he could save the world single handedly. Yes, his emerald eyes shown brightly regardless of the hour of the day and his hair was always in such a disarray that it made him look perfectly windswept, but he wasn’t perfect for he had rejected her the year before. She winced at the memory but smiled as undauntedly as she could muster.
“Well then, goodbye Harry,” she spoke softly in an attempt to remove the sorrow from her voice. It seemed as if he had heard it regardless because he was now standing only inches from her, prying the suitcase from her hands.
“Don’t forget me this summer,” he whispered, “I never meant to hurt you…and I don’t want to lose you.” His hands were on her waist and he was only inches from her now, his hot breaths landing across the bridge of her nose and burning at the already developing tears in her eyes.
“You already have Harry,” she sighed; pulling away from the one person she thought she had always loved, “I’ll see you at the end of the summer.”
Ginny walked briskly up the cobblestone sidewalk, surveying her directions as she moved. The light June breeze fluttered the parchment in her hands while it played with the hem of her skirt and the ends of her hair, causing her to stop every few seconds to fix this or that. The train ride had been quite a bore and she hadn’t realized how long it had taken; now only just realizing she was perfectly defined as ‘late’ and she had yet to find the house she was looking for. Her client for the summer had insisted upon giving her hand written directions and making her take muggle transportation to find the house, which was almost impossible in the type of area she was in. The houses were all almost identical, with hundreds of small windows and wonderfully sculpted yards.
She stopped at the driveway scripted with the lettering ‘419’. She hurried up the long driveway to the front of the house, making her way along the brightly colored begonias and tulips in the gardens before her. The door knocker itself was made of solid iron, coiled into the shape of a tongued serpent, and it took most of her 16 year old strength to lift it barely an inch. Almost immediately the door opened to reveal a paling long haired girl in a forest green maid’s uniform. She moved aside and allowed Ginny to walk in, before shutting the door behind her.
“Welcome…Ms. Weasley…I presume?” The girl asked politely, staring at her abnormally.
“Yes...” Ginny started, unsure of what to say, “This is…a…wizarding…”
“Yes ma’am this is a wizarding household,” the maid interrupted, grabbing the suitcase from her hand and moving towards a long corridor to the left, “The Mistress wants to keep up the outlook in this neighborhood during the summer holidays, so she sticks to strictly muggle utilities. Since this is only the summer house, it isn’t as necessary to keep up…how do you say…appearances? Besides, this gives her a better outlook on the ways of muggles. If you would follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”
Ginny kept a close distance to the maid, as the house was massive, and every corridor seemed to only have another leading off of it to another portion of the house. It was definitely elongated, but by magic or just natural construction she wasn’t sure. Finally, in a corridor laced in green rugs and blacked walls, the maid stopped at a wooden door.
“This is your room Ms. Weasley. The dinner bell rings promptly at six every night, and you are expected in the main dining hall by six thirty. A servant will be up to wake you in the morning. Please be on time. If you need anything, just find me, I reside two corridors to the left and then one to the right of you, fifth room.” The maid turned and walked away briskly, leaving Ginny alone.
Ginny strode the halls breathlessly, turning down this one and then retreating and turning down another. Most of the halls were the same, covered in plushy green carpeting and blackened walls. A few had torches lining the walls here and there, but other than that she could make no distinguish of where she was going. The dinner bell had rung what seemed like hours ago and she had spent most of her time searching for the main dining hall. She had found two washrooms, a ballroom, and even a drawing room in her haste, but her main destination was yet to be found.
After what seemed like another ten minutes she came to a large reception area, covered with polished floors and ascending staircases. She smiled at herself in the floor, the reflection of her red hair, coffee eyes, and timid lavender dress smiling back up at her. She danced around in a circle for a moment, almost falling as a raspy voice interrupted her. A man, adorned in a black tuxedo, was standing on the other side of the area, staring at her oddly.
“Ms. Weasley, you are late for dinner as it is, I would suggest to follow me and to stop ogling over yourself in the floor that probably needs waxing now,” He sneered before shoving off. She followed hastily. After a few twists and turns they came upon a spacious room, only adorned with a long mahogany table, which was only accompanied by two individuals. She briskly walked towards them. Upon reaching their sides she curtseyed and smiled. The woman sitting at the head of the table had long white blonde hair pulled back in an elegant twist and eyes the color of sapphires. She was smiling coolly, although her fingers were tapping against the table in an annoyed fashion.
“I told you she wouldn’t be prompt mother,” A voice she knew only too well came from her side, and she spun wildly. A boy, possibly only a year older than her, sat snidely with his eyes transfixed on hers; silver gray eyes that seemed to cut into her skin and peel at her every nerve. His hair was tossed to one side in its usual fashion, almost a clearer blonde than that of his mother’s. His nose was upturned to her and his lips were pulled back in his almost name-worthy smirk.
“Welcome to Malfoy Manor at Aberdeen Ms. Weasley. I would like to introduce you to my son, Draco Malfoy,” the woman spoke, cutting the air like butter. Ginny faked a smile as she withdrew the mahogany chair and sat herself swiftly, “I presume you already have discovered your room…and found it to be in great fashion.”
“Yes Ms. Malfoy but you see…”
“Now Ms. Weasley, I must have you understand,” the woman started simply, her eyes barely glancing up to meet Ginny’s own, “Although, in other households, tutors may be more…how you say…valued by their employers, I kid you not. You are not considered to be an ‘equal’ by any state in this house hold. You will dress the same as the other maids and butlers of this house; you will act cordially and speak only when addressed to. You will arrive to meals on time and you will eat with us like a normal human being, that is the only, and I repeat the only benefit you gain in this household other than your keep. Your time here will be to my discretion and my discretion only. When I believe you have concluded your work, and only then, will you be excused. To you, I am ‘Mistress Malfoy” and that title only. Do I make myself clear Ms. Weasley, or must I repeat myself? I remember far too well how…inattentive Weasley’s can be,” she spoke smoothly and enunciated her speech perfectly, making Ginny only dislike her more. If it were possible, she imagined smoke would be fuming from her ears, it was common knowledge that she was not the member of the family to hold their temper wisely, especially when it came down to slandering the people she cared for.
“Yes ma’am,” she forced through gritted teeth. The blonde woman smiled, as much as she probably could, and then clapped her hands together. The maid that Ginny had seen at the door entered promptly, carrying several large silver platters, piled high with the most exquisite food Ginny had ever seen. She stared at large piles of sliced beef shank as her mouth began to water, her fingers twirling in the fabric of her dress, begging to be able to just grab a piece of the warm tender meat. Another maid, a stout bulky woman with choppy blonde hair was pouring goblets of pumpkin juice for each person around the table, humming silently to herself as she brushed past Ginny and moved back towards the kitchen. The chewing of food caused Ginny to look directly into Draco’s eyes, as he was currently stuffing a piece of potato into his impeccably bright mouth.
“Are you going to stare at the food already in my mouth all evening or are you going to eat your own?” he hissed, running his tongue across his mouth.
“I wouldn’t want to eat a thing you ever touched Draco,” she whispered, barely audible, but apparently he had heard as his cheeks were now turning a visible purple color, as they usually did when he got angry. She smiled to herself.
“Mother, how long must Ms. Weasley accompany us at meals?” Draco asked heatedly, although it seemed he was trying his best to keep his composure, which only caused Ginny to chuckle lightly, “None of the other workers eat with us, I really don’t understand why she has special privileges.”
“She hasn’t touched a thing yet my dear, let her eat,” the woman spoke harshly, turning her attention back to her own plate and ignoring the hushed commentaries coming from Draco’s side of the table. Meanwhile, Ginny had busied herself with the food, which was remarkably delicious, and far more appetizing than anything she would receive at home. Her mother was a decent cook, and she rarely ever complained, but having large portions (regardless of the number of people in the house) was a commodity.
“Draco dear, I believe it is time for Ms. Weasley and I to have some financial discussions,” the woman spoke briefly.
“But mother…”
“Go Draco,” she spoke pointedly and he stood up, bowed to her, and turned heatedly from the room, “You must forgive him my dear, he is quite a sweet boy but alas he isn’t quite taken with the idea of having a tutor. Master Malfoy doesn’t even know I hired one for him,” Ginny shivered uncontrollably at the mention of Lucius Malfoy, the man who had led her to being taken over by the most powerful dark wizard in the world, “Is something wrong dear? I didn’t scare you off now did I?”
“No, nothing at all ma’am,” Ginny lied, glaring at the woman. If her words alone were considered, it might have seemed that she was attempting to redeem herself in Ginny’s eyes. But her tone as well as the soft yet foul stare she was giving Ginny said otherwise, “but if I may ask, why did you hire me?”
“Well you see Draco was doing terribly in charms class as it was. Back when the Malfoy name actually stood ground in the wizarding world, Flitwick would have had a lot more problems in failing my boy. But after the war and all…you see…it is impeccable that Draco get good marks. He can’t become an…well he just can’t take up the profession he wants if he doesn’t have good charms marks. Flitwick originally suggested that muggle-born girl, who was it, something with a G. Yes that was it, that Granger girl, but Draco refused to have her anywhere near him. So Professor Flitwick suggested you as well, and I didn’t even bother asking Draco about it,” the woman smiled again, “He will adjust to you Ms. Weasley. He honestly is a good natured boy, but he just takes time. He takes after his father too much, I suppose. Now, on to other buisness…about your uniform…”
Ginny finally made her way back to her room around 9, her eyelids falling heavily upon her coffee eyes. The room was slightly cold, but she didn’t mind, as the dress she was wearing was confining her body to barely any air. She pulled out of the restricting dress and grabbed a periwinkle nightdress, letting the material slip over her overheated skin. She pulled back the white bedclothes, tossing most aside, and left behind only one small sheet, which she pulled around her body as she sprawled her hair across the pillow. From her bed she could see the armoire with her new wardrobe in it, the same uniform of the maids she had seen earlier. Mistress Malfoy had said it had been for “conformity”, although Ginny was sure Draco had suggested it just to have a nice laugh over. Summer had barely started, and she was already finding herself regretting applying before sleep even came over her.
“Ginny, the train is leaving in twenty minutes,” Hermione Granger called from the doorway, smiling as sweetly as possible at the sighing girl. Her own auburn hair was clipped against the back of her head and she was standing in the least revealing bathing suit she had to have owned.
“Yes I know Hermione, thanks.”
“Are you ready to go yet?” she asked warmly, moving to sit beside her. Ginny moaned as she sat up, running a freckle smattered arm across her forehead. Yes, she had thought a lot about her summer since she applied for the position. Her job had been puzzling, to say the least. No detail, only an address to report to promptly. But she needed the money, and going away to do so would be the most beneficial thing at the moment. She nodded solemnly as two more bodies appeared at her doorway, one the spitting image of her and the other, slightly shorter, was bespectacled.
“Hullo Ron…Harry.”
“Hey Gin, you ready for your first day on the job?” Harry questioned her timidly, barely stepping inside the sun filtered room. Ron on the other hand had crossed the room flamboyantly and punched his sister lightly in the shoulder before rubbing her head absentmindedly with his palms. She groaned at him as he released her and she stood.
“I will be fine. Tutoring can’t honestly be that horrible.”
“Even though you don’t know who it is,” Ron interjected.
“Does that really matter?” Ginny shot back defensively, “I obviously have the marks for Dumbledore to even request me to tutor someone in Charms, so I am sure whoever it is won’t be too much to handle.”
“You will do wonderfully Gin,” Hermione responded, almost in a faux attempt to smooth over Ron’s obviously blundered statement. This only made Ginny cringe more, as the thought of her brother and Hermione dating only brought sickness to her stomach. It wasn’t as if she didn’t like Hermione, quite the contrary she really admired the girl. But their new relationship only kept Ginny at a farther distance from the group of friends that she had found herself trying to be accustomed to living quite desolately. And, even at her age, desolate was never enjoyable.
Both Ron and Hermione stood awkwardly, grabbing each other’s hands and sliding out of the room.
Probably to snog, Ginny thought to herself, as she watched the couple go. She began to shuffle through the remaining of her belongings, making her bed, and straightening up before she realized that Harry still stood at her doorway, staring oddly at her through his spectacles.
“Do you need something Harry?” she asked cautiously, keeping her back to him as she moved about her room.
“No, just wanted to properly say goodbye I suppose,” he muttered. She turned then, suitcase in hand, and her eyes scanned him covetously. He had always been “perfect” in her mind, even before she had met him. It probably had started those late nights when she was little, when her mother would sit her down and tell her stories of the wizard that had saved them all. Or it could have started when he had rescued her from the Basilisk second year, winning over her heart in his heroic triumph. But she knew more than anything, now in the summer before her sixth year at Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry, that he wasn’t “perfect”. He was arrogant and self centered and thought he could save the world single handedly. Yes, his emerald eyes shown brightly regardless of the hour of the day and his hair was always in such a disarray that it made him look perfectly windswept, but he wasn’t perfect for he had rejected her the year before. She winced at the memory but smiled as undauntedly as she could muster.
“Well then, goodbye Harry,” she spoke softly in an attempt to remove the sorrow from her voice. It seemed as if he had heard it regardless because he was now standing only inches from her, prying the suitcase from her hands.
“Don’t forget me this summer,” he whispered, “I never meant to hurt you…and I don’t want to lose you.” His hands were on her waist and he was only inches from her now, his hot breaths landing across the bridge of her nose and burning at the already developing tears in her eyes.
“You already have Harry,” she sighed; pulling away from the one person she thought she had always loved, “I’ll see you at the end of the summer.”
Ginny walked briskly up the cobblestone sidewalk, surveying her directions as she moved. The light June breeze fluttered the parchment in her hands while it played with the hem of her skirt and the ends of her hair, causing her to stop every few seconds to fix this or that. The train ride had been quite a bore and she hadn’t realized how long it had taken; now only just realizing she was perfectly defined as ‘late’ and she had yet to find the house she was looking for. Her client for the summer had insisted upon giving her hand written directions and making her take muggle transportation to find the house, which was almost impossible in the type of area she was in. The houses were all almost identical, with hundreds of small windows and wonderfully sculpted yards.
She stopped at the driveway scripted with the lettering ‘419’. She hurried up the long driveway to the front of the house, making her way along the brightly colored begonias and tulips in the gardens before her. The door knocker itself was made of solid iron, coiled into the shape of a tongued serpent, and it took most of her 16 year old strength to lift it barely an inch. Almost immediately the door opened to reveal a paling long haired girl in a forest green maid’s uniform. She moved aside and allowed Ginny to walk in, before shutting the door behind her.
“Welcome…Ms. Weasley…I presume?” The girl asked politely, staring at her abnormally.
“Yes...” Ginny started, unsure of what to say, “This is…a…wizarding…”
“Yes ma’am this is a wizarding household,” the maid interrupted, grabbing the suitcase from her hand and moving towards a long corridor to the left, “The Mistress wants to keep up the outlook in this neighborhood during the summer holidays, so she sticks to strictly muggle utilities. Since this is only the summer house, it isn’t as necessary to keep up…how do you say…appearances? Besides, this gives her a better outlook on the ways of muggles. If you would follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”
Ginny kept a close distance to the maid, as the house was massive, and every corridor seemed to only have another leading off of it to another portion of the house. It was definitely elongated, but by magic or just natural construction she wasn’t sure. Finally, in a corridor laced in green rugs and blacked walls, the maid stopped at a wooden door.
“This is your room Ms. Weasley. The dinner bell rings promptly at six every night, and you are expected in the main dining hall by six thirty. A servant will be up to wake you in the morning. Please be on time. If you need anything, just find me, I reside two corridors to the left and then one to the right of you, fifth room.” The maid turned and walked away briskly, leaving Ginny alone.
Ginny strode the halls breathlessly, turning down this one and then retreating and turning down another. Most of the halls were the same, covered in plushy green carpeting and blackened walls. A few had torches lining the walls here and there, but other than that she could make no distinguish of where she was going. The dinner bell had rung what seemed like hours ago and she had spent most of her time searching for the main dining hall. She had found two washrooms, a ballroom, and even a drawing room in her haste, but her main destination was yet to be found.
After what seemed like another ten minutes she came to a large reception area, covered with polished floors and ascending staircases. She smiled at herself in the floor, the reflection of her red hair, coffee eyes, and timid lavender dress smiling back up at her. She danced around in a circle for a moment, almost falling as a raspy voice interrupted her. A man, adorned in a black tuxedo, was standing on the other side of the area, staring at her oddly.
“Ms. Weasley, you are late for dinner as it is, I would suggest to follow me and to stop ogling over yourself in the floor that probably needs waxing now,” He sneered before shoving off. She followed hastily. After a few twists and turns they came upon a spacious room, only adorned with a long mahogany table, which was only accompanied by two individuals. She briskly walked towards them. Upon reaching their sides she curtseyed and smiled. The woman sitting at the head of the table had long white blonde hair pulled back in an elegant twist and eyes the color of sapphires. She was smiling coolly, although her fingers were tapping against the table in an annoyed fashion.
“I told you she wouldn’t be prompt mother,” A voice she knew only too well came from her side, and she spun wildly. A boy, possibly only a year older than her, sat snidely with his eyes transfixed on hers; silver gray eyes that seemed to cut into her skin and peel at her every nerve. His hair was tossed to one side in its usual fashion, almost a clearer blonde than that of his mother’s. His nose was upturned to her and his lips were pulled back in his almost name-worthy smirk.
“Welcome to Malfoy Manor at Aberdeen Ms. Weasley. I would like to introduce you to my son, Draco Malfoy,” the woman spoke, cutting the air like butter. Ginny faked a smile as she withdrew the mahogany chair and sat herself swiftly, “I presume you already have discovered your room…and found it to be in great fashion.”
“Yes Ms. Malfoy but you see…”
“Now Ms. Weasley, I must have you understand,” the woman started simply, her eyes barely glancing up to meet Ginny’s own, “Although, in other households, tutors may be more…how you say…valued by their employers, I kid you not. You are not considered to be an ‘equal’ by any state in this house hold. You will dress the same as the other maids and butlers of this house; you will act cordially and speak only when addressed to. You will arrive to meals on time and you will eat with us like a normal human being, that is the only, and I repeat the only benefit you gain in this household other than your keep. Your time here will be to my discretion and my discretion only. When I believe you have concluded your work, and only then, will you be excused. To you, I am ‘Mistress Malfoy” and that title only. Do I make myself clear Ms. Weasley, or must I repeat myself? I remember far too well how…inattentive Weasley’s can be,” she spoke smoothly and enunciated her speech perfectly, making Ginny only dislike her more. If it were possible, she imagined smoke would be fuming from her ears, it was common knowledge that she was not the member of the family to hold their temper wisely, especially when it came down to slandering the people she cared for.
“Yes ma’am,” she forced through gritted teeth. The blonde woman smiled, as much as she probably could, and then clapped her hands together. The maid that Ginny had seen at the door entered promptly, carrying several large silver platters, piled high with the most exquisite food Ginny had ever seen. She stared at large piles of sliced beef shank as her mouth began to water, her fingers twirling in the fabric of her dress, begging to be able to just grab a piece of the warm tender meat. Another maid, a stout bulky woman with choppy blonde hair was pouring goblets of pumpkin juice for each person around the table, humming silently to herself as she brushed past Ginny and moved back towards the kitchen. The chewing of food caused Ginny to look directly into Draco’s eyes, as he was currently stuffing a piece of potato into his impeccably bright mouth.
“Are you going to stare at the food already in my mouth all evening or are you going to eat your own?” he hissed, running his tongue across his mouth.
“I wouldn’t want to eat a thing you ever touched Draco,” she whispered, barely audible, but apparently he had heard as his cheeks were now turning a visible purple color, as they usually did when he got angry. She smiled to herself.
“Mother, how long must Ms. Weasley accompany us at meals?” Draco asked heatedly, although it seemed he was trying his best to keep his composure, which only caused Ginny to chuckle lightly, “None of the other workers eat with us, I really don’t understand why she has special privileges.”
“She hasn’t touched a thing yet my dear, let her eat,” the woman spoke harshly, turning her attention back to her own plate and ignoring the hushed commentaries coming from Draco’s side of the table. Meanwhile, Ginny had busied herself with the food, which was remarkably delicious, and far more appetizing than anything she would receive at home. Her mother was a decent cook, and she rarely ever complained, but having large portions (regardless of the number of people in the house) was a commodity.
“Draco dear, I believe it is time for Ms. Weasley and I to have some financial discussions,” the woman spoke briefly.
“But mother…”
“Go Draco,” she spoke pointedly and he stood up, bowed to her, and turned heatedly from the room, “You must forgive him my dear, he is quite a sweet boy but alas he isn’t quite taken with the idea of having a tutor. Master Malfoy doesn’t even know I hired one for him,” Ginny shivered uncontrollably at the mention of Lucius Malfoy, the man who had led her to being taken over by the most powerful dark wizard in the world, “Is something wrong dear? I didn’t scare you off now did I?”
“No, nothing at all ma’am,” Ginny lied, glaring at the woman. If her words alone were considered, it might have seemed that she was attempting to redeem herself in Ginny’s eyes. But her tone as well as the soft yet foul stare she was giving Ginny said otherwise, “but if I may ask, why did you hire me?”
“Well you see Draco was doing terribly in charms class as it was. Back when the Malfoy name actually stood ground in the wizarding world, Flitwick would have had a lot more problems in failing my boy. But after the war and all…you see…it is impeccable that Draco get good marks. He can’t become an…well he just can’t take up the profession he wants if he doesn’t have good charms marks. Flitwick originally suggested that muggle-born girl, who was it, something with a G. Yes that was it, that Granger girl, but Draco refused to have her anywhere near him. So Professor Flitwick suggested you as well, and I didn’t even bother asking Draco about it,” the woman smiled again, “He will adjust to you Ms. Weasley. He honestly is a good natured boy, but he just takes time. He takes after his father too much, I suppose. Now, on to other buisness…about your uniform…”
Ginny finally made her way back to her room around 9, her eyelids falling heavily upon her coffee eyes. The room was slightly cold, but she didn’t mind, as the dress she was wearing was confining her body to barely any air. She pulled out of the restricting dress and grabbed a periwinkle nightdress, letting the material slip over her overheated skin. She pulled back the white bedclothes, tossing most aside, and left behind only one small sheet, which she pulled around her body as she sprawled her hair across the pillow. From her bed she could see the armoire with her new wardrobe in it, the same uniform of the maids she had seen earlier. Mistress Malfoy had said it had been for “conformity”, although Ginny was sure Draco had suggested it just to have a nice laugh over. Summer had barely started, and she was already finding herself regretting applying before sleep even came over her.
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