. . . . . .
I do not want people to be agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them. - Jane Austen
. . . . . .
Draco and Ginny had been married nearly a month when the Wonder Trio came to visit. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been home from their long mission for some time, but it had been quite difficult to find a time that suited both them and the Malfoys. Ginny and Hermione had finally found a Wednesday evening they all had free, and Ginny had been fretting about it and preparing for it ever since.
Draco, of course, wouldn’t have cared at all if Saint Potter and his fan club had never come to call, but it seemed very important to Ginny. She seemed especially concerned about what her brother Ron would think; Draco got the impression that she cared very much whether or not he approved of her. This was something Draco could not understand. Hermione was widely considered one of wizarding Britain’s great minds, and even Harry had the distinction of having defeated Lord Voldemort. Draco could have understood if Ginny’d been worried about their opinions. As far as he could tell, however, Ron’s only gifts were marathon tirading and consuming impossible amounts of food.
But then, Ron was her brother. Draco supposed that if he’d ever had a sibling, or even a cousin he was particularly close to, he would understand why Ginny needed Ron’s approval. The closest thing he had, however, was that shapeshifting nutter Nymphadora Tonks, who’d never really been a favorite guest of the Malfoys. That kind of sibling affection, then, was something he admitted was a bit foreign to him. So as Ginny prepared frantically for the visit, Draco tried to keep his comments to himself, with limited success.
Not that he had a lot of time to make snide remarks. Ginny only told him they were coming when he got home from work the day of the visit. With more time than that, she explained, she was sure he would come up with some way to get out of it. As this was true, Draco could only begrudingly admire her foresight and prepare to receive the Wonder Trio into his house.
Not long before the guests were to arrive, Ginny came to talk to Draco, her face set in stern lines. “Draco,” she said firmly, “can I trust you not to harrass them?”
“How should I know if you trust me?” Draco asked blankly.
“I’m serious!” Ginny said, but she was obviously fighting a smile. They’d been getting along reasonably well the past few weeks; ever since Ginny had learned that Draco had gone to apologize to Hannah, she’d tried to be more polite. Of course, despite this effort, she was a Weasley and simply couldn’t give up her feisty ways. Draco was glad of this. His life would be quite dull without Ginny heckling him. “Will you promise not to say anything rude when they come?” she demanded.
“I am hurt that you even have to ask,” Draco said indignantly. “It’s clear that you really don’t trust me.”
“It’s possible,” she replied drily. “So will you promise not to say anything rude to them when they come?”
His half-formed reply died in his throat as a thought occurred to him. “All right,” he agreed with a slow smirk. “I promise not to make a single derogatory remark to any of your guests.”
Ginny sighed. “Why does that sound like a threat?”
The knock on the front door that heralded the Trio’s arrival came just as the clock in the den struck seven. Draco and Ginny were standing in the front hall, waiting for Bernard to open the door and properly announce their guests. Ginny had thought that rather than beat around the bush and pretend that her life at Malfoy Manor was the same as it had been at the Burrow, it might be best to show her brother and his friends exactly how she lived. So she’d dressed in fine new robes and ordered rather pricey refreshments to be served in the summer sitting room on the east side of the house. It seemed like overkill to Draco, who felt that digestive crackers on a plastic plate were good enough for the Trio, but he’d learned over the past month that when Ginny wasn’t happy, no one was happy. So he went along with her planning, and prepared to annoy Ron as much as possible without breaking his promise.
As the knock echoed faintly through the large hall, Ginny took a calming breath. “They’re here,” she said unnecessarily.
“Yes, they are,” Draco said with a devilish smile, and, as Bernard approached the door, he casually put his arm around Ginny’s waist and pulled her close to him.
“What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously.
“Just showing your friends what a happy couple we are,” Draco said innocently.
Ginny’s eyes widened. “Wait,” she said apprehensively. “Draco, tell me-”
“Miss Hermione Granger,” Bernard announced crisply as the Trio walked into the entryway. “Mr. Ronald Weasley. Mr. Harry Potter.”
Ginny and Draco looked away from each other to smile at their guests, and Draco wondered if her smile was as false as his. Bernard turned toward his masters. “Your hosts,” he said. “Lord Draco Malfoy, master of Malfoy Manor, and Lady Ginevra Weasley Malfoy.”
Draco could feel Ginny stiffen under his touch, and at the same time the Trio’s eyes widened all at once. He stifled a smile. Although she’d borne it for a month now, Ginny had still not gotten comfortable with the “Lady” that had been added to her name. It was an old title, bestowed along with his own “Lord” on the Malfoys so many centuries earlier that most people had forgotten about them. In fact, most people ignored the fact that anyone was nobility in the wizarding world; in the aftermath of the wars with Voldemort, having a title that set you above your peers could only be seen as dangerous. The titles were good to have around sometimes, though, to intimidate guests, which was why Draco had insisted privately to Bernard that he use them when the Trio arrived.
As the door shut behind Harry, Hermione and Ron, Ginny tried to move toward them, but Draco kept her planted firmly by his side. So she was forced to greet them from where she stood. “I’m so glad you could come,” she smiled.
“We’re glad to be here,” Hermione responded with equal enthusiasm. “It was so kind of you to open your house to us, Draco.”
It was the opening he’d been looking for. “Anything for my Ginevra,” he said in his warmest tones, and pulled Ginny closer to him. The movement, he saw, was not lost on their guests. Hermione looked mildly surprised and Harry looked mildly annoyed, but Ron was staring with such intensity at the hand Draco had possessively curled around Ginny’s waist that Draco felt sure he was going to throw a fit.
Ron said nothing, though, and Ginny took advantage of the silence to invite her guests into the sitting room. “Bernard, could you show them they way?” she requested in a slightly strained voice. “Draco and I will be right there.” As soon as the house elf had led the Trio out of earshot, Ginny wrenched herself away from Draco. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
Draco sighed. “You are so hard to please, wife of mine.”
“Don’t even-”
“Ginny,” Draco cut in, “what are you doing? You can’t leave your guests unattended like that.” He shook his head and and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I know you’re new to formal social calls, but even so, Lady Malfoy must always receive her guests courteously.” He put his arm around her shoulders and steered her firmly in the direction that her guests had gone.
“Draco,” Ginny said grimly after giving up trying to fight against his guiding hand, “please don’t do anything I’m going to have to kill you for later.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Draco said sincerely. “If I died now, you’d inherit everything.”
They found Harry, Ron and Hermione already seated in the sitting room, Hermione and Ron sharing one sofa and Harry on the chaise longue. Draco noted with satisfaction that his old rival had chosen the most uncomfortable chair in the room. After Ginny had sent Bernard off for the tea, Draco led her to the other sofa, his arm still around her shoulders, and they both sat down.
They engaged in the usual small talk- or rather, Ginny and Hermione engaged in small talk with marginal help from Harry, while Ron sat in sullen silence and Draco smirked at him. It seemed that Ron wasn’t happy to be there, or perhaps he was simply annoyed that Draco hadn’t yet removed his arm from Ginny’s shoulders.
When the tea arrived, Draco had to move his arm from its rather comfortable resting spot to lean forward and get his tea cup and a bit of cake. That was no good, as he was no longer annoying Ron. So he finished his tea quickly and ate the cake in two bites, then turned to Ginny. “This is all wonderful, darling,” he said, and put his hand on her thigh.
It was hard to say which Weasley had the most amusing reaction. Ron made a quick movement, as though to stand and put a stop to it, but Hermione put out a restraining hand and her boyfriend sat back down. His eyes were strangely wide, though, and he appeared to be engaged in a great inner struggle, probably realizing that he couldn’t very well get angry that his sister appeared to be so close to her own husband.
Ginny, in contrast, didn’t move at all, but her eyes widened fractionally and her smile stretched a bit wider and began to look like something of a grimace. Draco found it quite amusing and wondered how far he could push her before she cracked. Deciding it would be quite entertaining to find out, he left his hand where it was.
“So, Draco,” Hermione said, looking at him in a way that made him wonder if she knew what he was doing, “you work for the Ministry?”
“I certainly do,” he said.
“And do you enjoy it?” Harry asked, surprising Draco.
“It’s a great job,” Draco said. “It’s good pay and I’m in London, close to Ginny.” They’d never actually seen each other at work, but Harry had no way of knowing that. So Draco looked lovingly at Ginny as though being near her workplace was the best part of his job, and began to rub his hand lightly over her knee.
Both Ron and Harry looked rather upset by that, so Draco turned to them with a smile. “Besides, I have so many fond memories of London. It reminds me of when we were all in the Order together.” That shut them up. There was no denying that Draco was an Order of the Phoenix alumnus; with that comment hanging in the air, neither Harry nor Ron could accuse him of being at all wicked.
Ginny smiled uncomfortably and asked Harry how his aunt and uncle were. Harry answered civilly, and with the conversation steered into safe waters, Ginny dared a quick, veiled look of death at Draco. He smiled winningly back.
From families the conversation moved to Fred and Angelina’s engagement. Draco quickly got bored with the conversation, so he turned to Ron. “You know, Ronald,” he said, “once Fred’s married, you’ll be the only Weasley still single. You’d better get moving.” He hadn’t expected Hermione would blush so much, but she did and it made him feel a bit sheepish. Ginny would forgive his baiting Ron, but she would never forgive unprovoked attacks on Hermione. Besides, he had no quarrel with Hermione; she was one of the few people who’d been civil to him during his stint with the Order. So he turned the group’s attention back to himself. “Marriage is such a blessed state,” he said in a falsely reminiscent tone that only Ginny would recognize as total mockery. “This has been the most incredible month of my life.”
“Yes, well, you’re lucky it worked out,” Ron said shortly. “You certainly hurried into it.”
“It was hasty, I know,” Draco admitted. Leaning in close to Ginny, he took her hand in both of his and massaged it gently, then spoke in his trademark faux sensual tone. “But how could anyone resist when such temptation as this is before them?”
“Well, we’ve been sitting in here long enough,” Ginny said loudly as she stood suddenly from the couch, knocking Draco back a bit. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”
And so they toured the house. Draco insisted on walking arm in arm with Ginny as they showed their guests the bottom two floors of Malfoy Manor, and he spent most of the tour nostalgically reminiscing about things that had never happened. “That’s the sofa we were sitting on the first time I kissed you,” he said sentimentally. “Do you remember, Ginevra?”
“Oh, I remember,” Ginny said with a tight smile. “I remember everything.” Draco smiled back and reminded himself to compliment her on her veiled threats later.
Ron, Harry and Hermione left soon after. As soon as the door had swung shut behind them, Ginny turned to Draco with fire in her eyes. “You,” she hissed.
“Me,” Draco agreed amiably.
Ginny appeared to be at a loss for words, so after a moment of glaring she poked him hard in the shoulder. “What was that?” Draco demanded, rubbing his arm.
“I’m trying to stop hitting you,” Ginny explained. The careful way she enunciated her words told him she was holding back a tirade. “It’s a very bad habit.”
Draco said drily, “That’s enormously decent of you, but what I actually meant was, what was that for?”
“What was that for?” Ginny repeated. She sounded shocked, presumably at his ignorance. “That was for . . .” She gestured at the front door. “For all that!”
“What?” Draco asked, nonplussed. “I did exactly what you asked.”
“Yes, but . . .” Ginny trailed off, looking confused.
“But what?” he replied. “I did what you told me to. I didn’t make a single derogatory remark to Saint Potter, or the walking dictionary, or your precious king of the weasels.”
“Well, I suppose that’s true, but . . .”
“I did not make a single negative remark all evening.” He smiled, very pleased with himself. “It was a very new experience for me. I rather enjoyed it.”
“Rather enjoyed coming up with new ways to needle my brother, you mean,” Ginny muttered, but she was fighting a smile. Draco relaxed. If Ginny was smiling then he was out of the danger zone.
“Yes, I do admit I enjoyed that,” he said.
Ginny shook her head. “Next time I’ll be sure to give you more specific instructions on what you can’t do.”
Draco nodded. “That seems wise,” he said. “Or you could just avoid the situation altogether by not inviting anyone over any more.”
“Not likely,” Ginny replied. “Sorry.”
Draco hung his head and sighed.
. . . . . .
At a club somewhere in the heart of London, Pansy Parkinson and Calliope Galliard sat at a dim corner table. Calliope was slowly stirring her drink; she’d never been much of a drinker, but Pansy had ordered her one anyway. It was no surprise to Pansy, then, when her blonde companion pushed the glass toward her. “Do you want it?” she asked. “I haven’t touched it yet.” When Pansy refused, Calliope looked amused. “Pansy Parkinson refusing a drink? Somebody mark the date.”
“Your humor is not appreciated, Calliope,” Pansy shot back, and she was pleased to see her friend quiet down and drop the subject. Calliope often disagreed with her, but for the sake of keeping the friendship intact she usually dropped the argument. Pansy smiled. This was why she knew her idea was going to work.
Calliope sat quietly for a moment, but when Pansy didn’t speak, she inquired, “So, what is it you wanted to ask me?”
Pansy smiled again. “Well, I was wondering,” she began conversationally, “does your family still have that place in Switzerland?”
“The chateau?” Calliope asked. “Yes. I was just there at the beginning of the year to ski.”
“And your parents allow you to go whenever you like?”
Calliope shrugged. “It actually belongs to Mum and her brothers, so I have to check with them, but as long as no one else has any prior plans . . .” She broke off. “Why?”
“Well,” Pansy said as nonchalantly as possible, “I was thinking about Draco and-”
“No,” Calliope said firmly. “I have told you again and again, Draco is married. He’s off limits. Leave it alone.”
“Calliope!” Pansy replied with feigned hurt. “I was going to say that I was thinking of Draco and his wife. I’m hurt that you think so little of me.”
Calliope looked chagrined and a bit annoyed. “I’m sorry,” she sighed wearily. “No, really, Pansy, don’t be mad. What were you going to say?”
Pansy hid a smile. “All right, I suppose I’ll forgive you. I was going to say that I’d been thinking about how poor Draco and Jenny-”
“Ginny.”
“All right, Draco and Ginny. The poor dears never got a honeymoon.”
“Right,” Calliope said slowly.
“Right,” Pansy said. “So I thought that it might be nice if we invited them to the chateau for a week.”
“We?”
“Of course ‘we,’ ” Pansy replied. “It would be strange for them to go alone to someone else’s house, but I’m sure you don’t want to be stuck there alone while they go off together. I’ll come and keep you company.”
“Wait,” Calliope said firmly. “Why-”
“And it’s been so long since I’ve been to Switzerland,” Pansy said reminiscently. “It’s so beautiful. I’d love to go again. And as my friend, it would be very kind of you to invite me.”
“Yes, but-”
“Isn’t that what friends do?” Pansy said sweetly.
Calliope tried to retort, but when she fell silent and sighed Pansy knew she’d won. “All right.”
“Excellent,” Pansy said calmly, and only those who knew her well would see that her smile was a bit grim. “Go home and see if anyone’s using the chateau- let’s see, it’s Wednesday- say, next week? Monday through Saturday? And when I come over for tea tomorrow you can tell me and we can owl the Malfoys.” Calliope nodded mutely while Pansy helped herself to her friend’s still-untouched glass, feeling very much in need of a relaxing drink. With a smile, she tipped the glass toward Calliope in a mock salute, then sat back and drank deeply.
What she’d just said was still echoing through her mind. How she hated that phrase, “The Malfoys,” and all the thoughts that came with it! It disgusted her to think of that Muggle lover as mistress of Malfoy Manor. That was meant to be her position. That had been the wish of Lucius Malfoy, as well as her own father.
She’d blown her chance the first time by cheating on Draco with Theodore Nott. That wasn’t really her fault, though. She’d been so young; she hadn’t been ready to tie herself down to one man. Well, this time things would be different. She was ready to become Mrs. Draco Malfoy, and Switzerland was her chance to make that happen.
. . . . . .
It was so nice to be able to visit family, Elise Stewart reflected as she stepped out of the fireplace and dusted herself off. She normally didn’t use the Floo network, but she was traveling with her sister Adele, who was too young to Apparate. Adele, who’d returned a few weeks earlier from her fifth year at Hogwarts, had been invited to visit France with a friend’s family, and Elise had taken her to buy clothes for the trip.
As Adele and Elise hung up their purses, their mother came forward to greet her daughters. “How was your day?” Gwendolyn asked, then listened with a smile as Adele vividly described their day of shopping. “It sounds charming, Adele,” she said. “Why don’t you go hang your robes up? Your father will be home for supper soon.”
As Adele left the room, Gwendolyn turned to Elise. “I heard from your Aunt Genoa today,” she said. “She was wondering if anyone was using the Swiss chateau next week. I said that you weren’t, but I thought I’d ask.”
“No, I’m not going anywhere next week,” Elise said. “Are the Galliards going to Switzerland?”
“Not all of them, but apparently Calliope wants to use it,” Gwendolyn replied, and her tone clearly implied there was more to that statement than met the eye.
“Calliope?” Elise repeated in surprise, wondering why her quiet cousin wanted to travel without her family. “That dear quiet thing? I never knew she was the globetrotting kind.”
“She isn’t,” Gwendolyn said, “but her friend Pansy is. It seems Pansy wants to invite Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy to come to Switzerland with her and Calliope, to make up for the honeymoon they never had.” She gave her daughter a signficant look.
“Pansy?” Elise murmured. “That seems uncharacteristically altruistic of her.”
“That’s what I thought,” Gwendolyn responded. “I can’t help but think she has something other than the couple’s best interests at heart.”
Elise frowned, deep in thought. Then she looked up at her mother with a bright smile. “Perhaps I should go visit Calliope,” she said. “She’s such a dear girl, and I haven’t seen her in absolute ages.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Gwendolyn.
Elise found Calliope at the Galliard home in Kent. Her fair-haired cousin greeted her warmly, but Elise could see that she was ill at ease. As well she should be, she thought, subjecting Draco and Ginny to a week of Pansy Parkinson.
Polite as always, Calliope showed Elise to a drawing room. “So,” Elise said as the pair seated themselves on the ornate chairs, “I hear you’re going to Switzerland.”
“I suppose I am,” Calliope said, shrugging uncomfortably.
“Yes, charming country,” Elise went on. “And I hear you’re taking some guests. Pansy Parkinson and Draco and Ginny Malfoy, correct?”
It was clear from Calliope’s face that she already knew what her cousin was getting at. “Yes,” she said resignedly.
“I take it, then, that you know this is going to be a problem?”
“Well . . . it’s possible.”
“Calliope,” Elise said admonishingly. “I’m sure you know as well as I do that Pansy only wants to invite the Malfoys so that she can lure Draco away from his wife.”
Calliope sighed. “Yes, I know,” she admitted.
“Then why did you agree to this scheme?” Elise asked. “I certainly hope you don’t approve of what Pansy’s trying to do.”
“Of course not,” Calliope said indignantly. “It just-” She sighed. “Elise, you know how hard it’s been for me to make friends since I’ve come back from France.”
It was true, Elise knew. Calliope’s father Alain Galliard was from France, so he’d sent both his children to Beauxbatons. Christopher had come back to England after finishing school, and he’d had no trouble adjusting. Calliope, however, had worked in Paris for several years at graduating and had only recently returned to England. This, in combination with her naturally retiring personality, had make it very difficult for her to make friends. Pansy was one of her few friends in England, despite their radically different personalities.
“Yes, I know,” Elise said kindly.
Calliope smiled apologetically. “I don’t want to lose my closest friend in this country,” she explained. “I know I should be strong enough to stand up to her-”
“Don’t feel badly, dearest,” Elise said, squeezing her cousin’s hand comfortingly.
“I feel quite sorry for Draco’s poor wife,” Calliope admitted. “I wish there was something to do to keep Pansy from doing this.” She perked up. “You know Draco well. Why don’t you just tell him to refuse the invitation?”
Elise shook her dark head. “No, then Pansy will just think of something else.” She frowned, deep in thought, while Calliope nervously played with the ends of her long hair. It was after a long silence that Elise nodded decisively at her cousin. “I think the best thing to do is to go to Switzerland and let Pansy see for herself that stealing Draco back isn’t going to work. Besides,” she said with a smile, “I do enjoy Switzerland.”
“But- wait, you’re coming?” Calliope said hopefully.
Elise smiled. “It’s my family’s place, too, and it’s large enough for all of us. It’s perfectly natural for James and me to take a vacation. And the woods around the chateau are so lovely this time of year.”
“Well, I won’t feel half so awkward with you and James there,” Calliope smiled.
“That’s the hope,” Elise said.
Her next stop was Malfoy Manor. The house elf who answered the door was reluctant to let her in, as the Malfoys were in the middle of dinner, but when Draco realized who was at the door he immediately told his elf- Bernard, apparently, was his name- to let her in. Bernard led Elise to the dining room, where Draco and Ginny sat at the table eating dessert. With accute correctness that would have made the Zabinis’ house elves with green with envy, the elf announced Elise’s name to his masters.
It warmed Elise’s heart to see Ginny’s eyes light up as the two woman greeted each other. She had seen Ginny several times since their tea, sometimes with their husbands and sometimes without, and the two women had found they got on very well. Draco, too, looked pleased to see his old friend and greeted her warmly.
The trio sat at the dining table- Bernard looked a little surprised at this breach in protocol, but said nothing- and conversed pleasantly for several minutes. When the stream of small talk ended, Elise admitted she had a more serious reason for coming than a mere social call.
Ginny raised an eyebrow. “What is it?” she asked.
Elise looked at her, then at Draco. “I suppose you’ve gotten the invitation already?”
They both looked back at her blankly. “I don’t think so,” Ginny said. “What invitation?”
“No one’s owled you today?” Elise pressed.
Draco’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, right. I got an owl right before I left work today. I was going to read it when I got home, but I forgot.” Out of a robe pocket he produced a folded piece of parchment. Unfolding it quickly, he read the careful cursive writing, his face falling into a frown as he did so. Without commenting, he stood up and took the paper over for Ginny to read; Elise, watching them, marveled at how old-fashioned they were, sitting at opposite ends of the table like that.
“Who’s Calliope Galliard?” Ginny asked when she was finished.
“You saw her at the Stewarts’ party,” Draco answered. “She was talking to Pansy Parkinson.” He looked up at Elise. “She’s your cousin, right? Why would she want to take us to Switzerland?”
“Well, as it turns out it wasn’t her idea,” Elise answered. “As it turns out, what the invitation doesn’t mention is that the other person traveling with you, who is also the mastermind behind this scheme, is one Pansy Parkinson.”
“Pansy?” Draco repeated. “Why?”
“I suppose only she knows all the reasons,” Elise said, “but I imagine it has something to do with the fact that she can’t get over you being married to someone else.”
“So she wants us to go Switzerland . . .” Ginny began.
“To have a week to lure me away from you,” Draco finished.
“A week is all it takes?” Ginny asked. “You’re so fickle, Draco.”
Elise smiled wryly, well used to Draco and Ginny’s banter. “I believe that’s the basic idea. She wanted a week in the same house as you, but it would be suspicious without Ginny there, so she cooked up this silly honeymoon idea.”
“Well, there’s an easy solution to this,” Draco said. “I’ll just say no to the invitation.”
“Of course that could be a good idea,” Elise began, and Ginny looked at her in surprise, “but if you say no to this she’s just going to come up with some other plot. She’s a very determined woman.”
“This is true,” Draco said knowledgeably.
“What, then?” Ginny asked suspiciously.
“I think you should go,” Elise said, and both of her hosts grimaced. “No, hear me out. If you go to this, you will have a full week to convince her that she has absolutely no chance with you, Draco.”
“Or we could just get a restraining order,” he grumbled.
“No, that takes too much time,” Elise said reasonably. “But you haven’t heard the rest of my brilliant plan. She’s undoubtedly hoping that Calliope can keep Ginny occupied while she makes her move. So I have taken the liberty of inviting James and myself to the chateau as well. It belongs to the whole family, after all.”
“So it’ll be harder for her to get Draco alone,” Ginny said with the beginnings of a smile. “It makes sense.”
“No,” Draco said firmly, and the two women looked at him in surprise. “I refuse to play right into her hand like that. You don’t know her, Ginny. She fights dirty.”
“You fight dirty too, Draco,” Ginny pointed out with a smile.
Draco raised an eyebrow. “But with the best of intentions,” he replied charmingly.
Elise broke back in. “But if you don’t do this, she’ll just keep trying,” Elise said. “Wouldn’t you rather get it out of the way?” Her hosts still looked unconvinced, so she pulled out the big guns. “And I really think it would be a good idea for you to have a honeymoon. You don’t know what people have been saying.”
“What have they been saying?” Ginny asked suspiciously.
“None of your friends believe it,” Elise answered carefully, looking at Draco, “but other people have been saying . . . the way you two got married so quickly, with no ceremony or announcement or anything . . . there’s talk that maybe you had to get married.”
For some reason this made Ginny snort with laughter, and Draco rolled his eyes at her. “Wait, you didn’t really have to get married, did you?” Elise asked, suddenly very embarrassed. “You weren’t-” She paused, looking for a delicate way to say this. “You’re not expecting . . . anything, are you, Ginny?”
“What?” Ginny asked in surprise. “No, of course not. I just laughed because . . . I thought of something funny, that’s all.” She paused. “Wait, people think I’m pregnant?”
“Not really,” Elise reassured her, “but some people have wondered. But if you went on a honeymoon together, if you were seen together being the happily married couple I know you are, it would seem less like a . . . what’s the phrase? Shotgun wedding?”
“How vulgar,” Draco said in mild surprise.
“She has a point, though,” Ginny said. “Most married couples do have honeymoons.” She and her husband shared a long, significant look that made Elise wonder what they were thinking of.
Finally Draco sighed. “All right, we can go,” he said. “But you and James had better be there to save us from Pansy.”
“Absolutely,” Elise grinned. “And one more thing.”
“It’s always one more thing,” Draco groaned.
“It might be a good idea if you invited someone else,” Elise said. “Someone young- maybe an attractive single gentleman. Someone who could distract Calliope from distracting Ginny.”
“You’re suggesting that we use the same low tactics on your cousin that Pansy would have used on me?” Ginny asked in surprise.
“Of course not,” Elise said. “I adore Calliope. But with Pansy busy following Draco and everyone else married, he would naturally spend time with the only other non-married non-Draco-stalking member of the group.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Ginny said, “but I don’t know anyone suitable who’s going to be around next week. Draco?”
Draco frowned, obviously displeased with the way things were going but unable to ignore the validity of Elise’s remarks. “I suppose I could ask Seamus Finnigan,” he said finally.
“Oh, do,” Ginny said delightedly. “I adore Seamus.”
“Before I concede defeat in this, though,” Draco said, “let me simply say that I hate the thought of spending any time in the same house as that loudmouthed drunkard, and that Muggle loving prissy boy is the last person I’d want to spend a week with.”
“Now that you’ve made your token caustic remarks,” Ginny said drily, “will you admit defeat?”
“Fine,” he said. “I admit it. I’ve lost this round and my punishment is a week of Seamus and Pansy.”
“Excellent,” Elise said. “I’ll send word to prepare another room for Seamus.”
Ginny nodded in agreement while Draco sighed heavily. “All right,” she said. “To Switzerland.”
. . . . . .
I do not want people to be agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them. - Jane Austen
. . . . . .
Draco and Ginny had been married nearly a month when the Wonder Trio came to visit. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been home from their long mission for some time, but it had been quite difficult to find a time that suited both them and the Malfoys. Ginny and Hermione had finally found a Wednesday evening they all had free, and Ginny had been fretting about it and preparing for it ever since.
Draco, of course, wouldn’t have cared at all if Saint Potter and his fan club had never come to call, but it seemed very important to Ginny. She seemed especially concerned about what her brother Ron would think; Draco got the impression that she cared very much whether or not he approved of her. This was something Draco could not understand. Hermione was widely considered one of wizarding Britain’s great minds, and even Harry had the distinction of having defeated Lord Voldemort. Draco could have understood if Ginny’d been worried about their opinions. As far as he could tell, however, Ron’s only gifts were marathon tirading and consuming impossible amounts of food.
But then, Ron was her brother. Draco supposed that if he’d ever had a sibling, or even a cousin he was particularly close to, he would understand why Ginny needed Ron’s approval. The closest thing he had, however, was that shapeshifting nutter Nymphadora Tonks, who’d never really been a favorite guest of the Malfoys. That kind of sibling affection, then, was something he admitted was a bit foreign to him. So as Ginny prepared frantically for the visit, Draco tried to keep his comments to himself, with limited success.
Not that he had a lot of time to make snide remarks. Ginny only told him they were coming when he got home from work the day of the visit. With more time than that, she explained, she was sure he would come up with some way to get out of it. As this was true, Draco could only begrudingly admire her foresight and prepare to receive the Wonder Trio into his house.
Not long before the guests were to arrive, Ginny came to talk to Draco, her face set in stern lines. “Draco,” she said firmly, “can I trust you not to harrass them?”
“How should I know if you trust me?” Draco asked blankly.
“I’m serious!” Ginny said, but she was obviously fighting a smile. They’d been getting along reasonably well the past few weeks; ever since Ginny had learned that Draco had gone to apologize to Hannah, she’d tried to be more polite. Of course, despite this effort, she was a Weasley and simply couldn’t give up her feisty ways. Draco was glad of this. His life would be quite dull without Ginny heckling him. “Will you promise not to say anything rude when they come?” she demanded.
“I am hurt that you even have to ask,” Draco said indignantly. “It’s clear that you really don’t trust me.”
“It’s possible,” she replied drily. “So will you promise not to say anything rude to them when they come?”
His half-formed reply died in his throat as a thought occurred to him. “All right,” he agreed with a slow smirk. “I promise not to make a single derogatory remark to any of your guests.”
Ginny sighed. “Why does that sound like a threat?”
The knock on the front door that heralded the Trio’s arrival came just as the clock in the den struck seven. Draco and Ginny were standing in the front hall, waiting for Bernard to open the door and properly announce their guests. Ginny had thought that rather than beat around the bush and pretend that her life at Malfoy Manor was the same as it had been at the Burrow, it might be best to show her brother and his friends exactly how she lived. So she’d dressed in fine new robes and ordered rather pricey refreshments to be served in the summer sitting room on the east side of the house. It seemed like overkill to Draco, who felt that digestive crackers on a plastic plate were good enough for the Trio, but he’d learned over the past month that when Ginny wasn’t happy, no one was happy. So he went along with her planning, and prepared to annoy Ron as much as possible without breaking his promise.
As the knock echoed faintly through the large hall, Ginny took a calming breath. “They’re here,” she said unnecessarily.
“Yes, they are,” Draco said with a devilish smile, and, as Bernard approached the door, he casually put his arm around Ginny’s waist and pulled her close to him.
“What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously.
“Just showing your friends what a happy couple we are,” Draco said innocently.
Ginny’s eyes widened. “Wait,” she said apprehensively. “Draco, tell me-”
“Miss Hermione Granger,” Bernard announced crisply as the Trio walked into the entryway. “Mr. Ronald Weasley. Mr. Harry Potter.”
Ginny and Draco looked away from each other to smile at their guests, and Draco wondered if her smile was as false as his. Bernard turned toward his masters. “Your hosts,” he said. “Lord Draco Malfoy, master of Malfoy Manor, and Lady Ginevra Weasley Malfoy.”
Draco could feel Ginny stiffen under his touch, and at the same time the Trio’s eyes widened all at once. He stifled a smile. Although she’d borne it for a month now, Ginny had still not gotten comfortable with the “Lady” that had been added to her name. It was an old title, bestowed along with his own “Lord” on the Malfoys so many centuries earlier that most people had forgotten about them. In fact, most people ignored the fact that anyone was nobility in the wizarding world; in the aftermath of the wars with Voldemort, having a title that set you above your peers could only be seen as dangerous. The titles were good to have around sometimes, though, to intimidate guests, which was why Draco had insisted privately to Bernard that he use them when the Trio arrived.
As the door shut behind Harry, Hermione and Ron, Ginny tried to move toward them, but Draco kept her planted firmly by his side. So she was forced to greet them from where she stood. “I’m so glad you could come,” she smiled.
“We’re glad to be here,” Hermione responded with equal enthusiasm. “It was so kind of you to open your house to us, Draco.”
It was the opening he’d been looking for. “Anything for my Ginevra,” he said in his warmest tones, and pulled Ginny closer to him. The movement, he saw, was not lost on their guests. Hermione looked mildly surprised and Harry looked mildly annoyed, but Ron was staring with such intensity at the hand Draco had possessively curled around Ginny’s waist that Draco felt sure he was going to throw a fit.
Ron said nothing, though, and Ginny took advantage of the silence to invite her guests into the sitting room. “Bernard, could you show them they way?” she requested in a slightly strained voice. “Draco and I will be right there.” As soon as the house elf had led the Trio out of earshot, Ginny wrenched herself away from Draco. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
Draco sighed. “You are so hard to please, wife of mine.”
“Don’t even-”
“Ginny,” Draco cut in, “what are you doing? You can’t leave your guests unattended like that.” He shook his head and and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I know you’re new to formal social calls, but even so, Lady Malfoy must always receive her guests courteously.” He put his arm around her shoulders and steered her firmly in the direction that her guests had gone.
“Draco,” Ginny said grimly after giving up trying to fight against his guiding hand, “please don’t do anything I’m going to have to kill you for later.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Draco said sincerely. “If I died now, you’d inherit everything.”
They found Harry, Ron and Hermione already seated in the sitting room, Hermione and Ron sharing one sofa and Harry on the chaise longue. Draco noted with satisfaction that his old rival had chosen the most uncomfortable chair in the room. After Ginny had sent Bernard off for the tea, Draco led her to the other sofa, his arm still around her shoulders, and they both sat down.
They engaged in the usual small talk- or rather, Ginny and Hermione engaged in small talk with marginal help from Harry, while Ron sat in sullen silence and Draco smirked at him. It seemed that Ron wasn’t happy to be there, or perhaps he was simply annoyed that Draco hadn’t yet removed his arm from Ginny’s shoulders.
When the tea arrived, Draco had to move his arm from its rather comfortable resting spot to lean forward and get his tea cup and a bit of cake. That was no good, as he was no longer annoying Ron. So he finished his tea quickly and ate the cake in two bites, then turned to Ginny. “This is all wonderful, darling,” he said, and put his hand on her thigh.
It was hard to say which Weasley had the most amusing reaction. Ron made a quick movement, as though to stand and put a stop to it, but Hermione put out a restraining hand and her boyfriend sat back down. His eyes were strangely wide, though, and he appeared to be engaged in a great inner struggle, probably realizing that he couldn’t very well get angry that his sister appeared to be so close to her own husband.
Ginny, in contrast, didn’t move at all, but her eyes widened fractionally and her smile stretched a bit wider and began to look like something of a grimace. Draco found it quite amusing and wondered how far he could push her before she cracked. Deciding it would be quite entertaining to find out, he left his hand where it was.
“So, Draco,” Hermione said, looking at him in a way that made him wonder if she knew what he was doing, “you work for the Ministry?”
“I certainly do,” he said.
“And do you enjoy it?” Harry asked, surprising Draco.
“It’s a great job,” Draco said. “It’s good pay and I’m in London, close to Ginny.” They’d never actually seen each other at work, but Harry had no way of knowing that. So Draco looked lovingly at Ginny as though being near her workplace was the best part of his job, and began to rub his hand lightly over her knee.
Both Ron and Harry looked rather upset by that, so Draco turned to them with a smile. “Besides, I have so many fond memories of London. It reminds me of when we were all in the Order together.” That shut them up. There was no denying that Draco was an Order of the Phoenix alumnus; with that comment hanging in the air, neither Harry nor Ron could accuse him of being at all wicked.
Ginny smiled uncomfortably and asked Harry how his aunt and uncle were. Harry answered civilly, and with the conversation steered into safe waters, Ginny dared a quick, veiled look of death at Draco. He smiled winningly back.
From families the conversation moved to Fred and Angelina’s engagement. Draco quickly got bored with the conversation, so he turned to Ron. “You know, Ronald,” he said, “once Fred’s married, you’ll be the only Weasley still single. You’d better get moving.” He hadn’t expected Hermione would blush so much, but she did and it made him feel a bit sheepish. Ginny would forgive his baiting Ron, but she would never forgive unprovoked attacks on Hermione. Besides, he had no quarrel with Hermione; she was one of the few people who’d been civil to him during his stint with the Order. So he turned the group’s attention back to himself. “Marriage is such a blessed state,” he said in a falsely reminiscent tone that only Ginny would recognize as total mockery. “This has been the most incredible month of my life.”
“Yes, well, you’re lucky it worked out,” Ron said shortly. “You certainly hurried into it.”
“It was hasty, I know,” Draco admitted. Leaning in close to Ginny, he took her hand in both of his and massaged it gently, then spoke in his trademark faux sensual tone. “But how could anyone resist when such temptation as this is before them?”
“Well, we’ve been sitting in here long enough,” Ginny said loudly as she stood suddenly from the couch, knocking Draco back a bit. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”
And so they toured the house. Draco insisted on walking arm in arm with Ginny as they showed their guests the bottom two floors of Malfoy Manor, and he spent most of the tour nostalgically reminiscing about things that had never happened. “That’s the sofa we were sitting on the first time I kissed you,” he said sentimentally. “Do you remember, Ginevra?”
“Oh, I remember,” Ginny said with a tight smile. “I remember everything.” Draco smiled back and reminded himself to compliment her on her veiled threats later.
Ron, Harry and Hermione left soon after. As soon as the door had swung shut behind them, Ginny turned to Draco with fire in her eyes. “You,” she hissed.
“Me,” Draco agreed amiably.
Ginny appeared to be at a loss for words, so after a moment of glaring she poked him hard in the shoulder. “What was that?” Draco demanded, rubbing his arm.
“I’m trying to stop hitting you,” Ginny explained. The careful way she enunciated her words told him she was holding back a tirade. “It’s a very bad habit.”
Draco said drily, “That’s enormously decent of you, but what I actually meant was, what was that for?”
“What was that for?” Ginny repeated. She sounded shocked, presumably at his ignorance. “That was for . . .” She gestured at the front door. “For all that!”
“What?” Draco asked, nonplussed. “I did exactly what you asked.”
“Yes, but . . .” Ginny trailed off, looking confused.
“But what?” he replied. “I did what you told me to. I didn’t make a single derogatory remark to Saint Potter, or the walking dictionary, or your precious king of the weasels.”
“Well, I suppose that’s true, but . . .”
“I did not make a single negative remark all evening.” He smiled, very pleased with himself. “It was a very new experience for me. I rather enjoyed it.”
“Rather enjoyed coming up with new ways to needle my brother, you mean,” Ginny muttered, but she was fighting a smile. Draco relaxed. If Ginny was smiling then he was out of the danger zone.
“Yes, I do admit I enjoyed that,” he said.
Ginny shook her head. “Next time I’ll be sure to give you more specific instructions on what you can’t do.”
Draco nodded. “That seems wise,” he said. “Or you could just avoid the situation altogether by not inviting anyone over any more.”
“Not likely,” Ginny replied. “Sorry.”
Draco hung his head and sighed.
. . . . . .
At a club somewhere in the heart of London, Pansy Parkinson and Calliope Galliard sat at a dim corner table. Calliope was slowly stirring her drink; she’d never been much of a drinker, but Pansy had ordered her one anyway. It was no surprise to Pansy, then, when her blonde companion pushed the glass toward her. “Do you want it?” she asked. “I haven’t touched it yet.” When Pansy refused, Calliope looked amused. “Pansy Parkinson refusing a drink? Somebody mark the date.”
“Your humor is not appreciated, Calliope,” Pansy shot back, and she was pleased to see her friend quiet down and drop the subject. Calliope often disagreed with her, but for the sake of keeping the friendship intact she usually dropped the argument. Pansy smiled. This was why she knew her idea was going to work.
Calliope sat quietly for a moment, but when Pansy didn’t speak, she inquired, “So, what is it you wanted to ask me?”
Pansy smiled again. “Well, I was wondering,” she began conversationally, “does your family still have that place in Switzerland?”
“The chateau?” Calliope asked. “Yes. I was just there at the beginning of the year to ski.”
“And your parents allow you to go whenever you like?”
Calliope shrugged. “It actually belongs to Mum and her brothers, so I have to check with them, but as long as no one else has any prior plans . . .” She broke off. “Why?”
“Well,” Pansy said as nonchalantly as possible, “I was thinking about Draco and-”
“No,” Calliope said firmly. “I have told you again and again, Draco is married. He’s off limits. Leave it alone.”
“Calliope!” Pansy replied with feigned hurt. “I was going to say that I was thinking of Draco and his wife. I’m hurt that you think so little of me.”
Calliope looked chagrined and a bit annoyed. “I’m sorry,” she sighed wearily. “No, really, Pansy, don’t be mad. What were you going to say?”
Pansy hid a smile. “All right, I suppose I’ll forgive you. I was going to say that I’d been thinking about how poor Draco and Jenny-”
“Ginny.”
“All right, Draco and Ginny. The poor dears never got a honeymoon.”
“Right,” Calliope said slowly.
“Right,” Pansy said. “So I thought that it might be nice if we invited them to the chateau for a week.”
“We?”
“Of course ‘we,’ ” Pansy replied. “It would be strange for them to go alone to someone else’s house, but I’m sure you don’t want to be stuck there alone while they go off together. I’ll come and keep you company.”
“Wait,” Calliope said firmly. “Why-”
“And it’s been so long since I’ve been to Switzerland,” Pansy said reminiscently. “It’s so beautiful. I’d love to go again. And as my friend, it would be very kind of you to invite me.”
“Yes, but-”
“Isn’t that what friends do?” Pansy said sweetly.
Calliope tried to retort, but when she fell silent and sighed Pansy knew she’d won. “All right.”
“Excellent,” Pansy said calmly, and only those who knew her well would see that her smile was a bit grim. “Go home and see if anyone’s using the chateau- let’s see, it’s Wednesday- say, next week? Monday through Saturday? And when I come over for tea tomorrow you can tell me and we can owl the Malfoys.” Calliope nodded mutely while Pansy helped herself to her friend’s still-untouched glass, feeling very much in need of a relaxing drink. With a smile, she tipped the glass toward Calliope in a mock salute, then sat back and drank deeply.
What she’d just said was still echoing through her mind. How she hated that phrase, “The Malfoys,” and all the thoughts that came with it! It disgusted her to think of that Muggle lover as mistress of Malfoy Manor. That was meant to be her position. That had been the wish of Lucius Malfoy, as well as her own father.
She’d blown her chance the first time by cheating on Draco with Theodore Nott. That wasn’t really her fault, though. She’d been so young; she hadn’t been ready to tie herself down to one man. Well, this time things would be different. She was ready to become Mrs. Draco Malfoy, and Switzerland was her chance to make that happen.
. . . . . .
It was so nice to be able to visit family, Elise Stewart reflected as she stepped out of the fireplace and dusted herself off. She normally didn’t use the Floo network, but she was traveling with her sister Adele, who was too young to Apparate. Adele, who’d returned a few weeks earlier from her fifth year at Hogwarts, had been invited to visit France with a friend’s family, and Elise had taken her to buy clothes for the trip.
As Adele and Elise hung up their purses, their mother came forward to greet her daughters. “How was your day?” Gwendolyn asked, then listened with a smile as Adele vividly described their day of shopping. “It sounds charming, Adele,” she said. “Why don’t you go hang your robes up? Your father will be home for supper soon.”
As Adele left the room, Gwendolyn turned to Elise. “I heard from your Aunt Genoa today,” she said. “She was wondering if anyone was using the Swiss chateau next week. I said that you weren’t, but I thought I’d ask.”
“No, I’m not going anywhere next week,” Elise said. “Are the Galliards going to Switzerland?”
“Not all of them, but apparently Calliope wants to use it,” Gwendolyn replied, and her tone clearly implied there was more to that statement than met the eye.
“Calliope?” Elise repeated in surprise, wondering why her quiet cousin wanted to travel without her family. “That dear quiet thing? I never knew she was the globetrotting kind.”
“She isn’t,” Gwendolyn said, “but her friend Pansy is. It seems Pansy wants to invite Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy to come to Switzerland with her and Calliope, to make up for the honeymoon they never had.” She gave her daughter a signficant look.
“Pansy?” Elise murmured. “That seems uncharacteristically altruistic of her.”
“That’s what I thought,” Gwendolyn responded. “I can’t help but think she has something other than the couple’s best interests at heart.”
Elise frowned, deep in thought. Then she looked up at her mother with a bright smile. “Perhaps I should go visit Calliope,” she said. “She’s such a dear girl, and I haven’t seen her in absolute ages.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Gwendolyn.
Elise found Calliope at the Galliard home in Kent. Her fair-haired cousin greeted her warmly, but Elise could see that she was ill at ease. As well she should be, she thought, subjecting Draco and Ginny to a week of Pansy Parkinson.
Polite as always, Calliope showed Elise to a drawing room. “So,” Elise said as the pair seated themselves on the ornate chairs, “I hear you’re going to Switzerland.”
“I suppose I am,” Calliope said, shrugging uncomfortably.
“Yes, charming country,” Elise went on. “And I hear you’re taking some guests. Pansy Parkinson and Draco and Ginny Malfoy, correct?”
It was clear from Calliope’s face that she already knew what her cousin was getting at. “Yes,” she said resignedly.
“I take it, then, that you know this is going to be a problem?”
“Well . . . it’s possible.”
“Calliope,” Elise said admonishingly. “I’m sure you know as well as I do that Pansy only wants to invite the Malfoys so that she can lure Draco away from his wife.”
Calliope sighed. “Yes, I know,” she admitted.
“Then why did you agree to this scheme?” Elise asked. “I certainly hope you don’t approve of what Pansy’s trying to do.”
“Of course not,” Calliope said indignantly. “It just-” She sighed. “Elise, you know how hard it’s been for me to make friends since I’ve come back from France.”
It was true, Elise knew. Calliope’s father Alain Galliard was from France, so he’d sent both his children to Beauxbatons. Christopher had come back to England after finishing school, and he’d had no trouble adjusting. Calliope, however, had worked in Paris for several years at graduating and had only recently returned to England. This, in combination with her naturally retiring personality, had make it very difficult for her to make friends. Pansy was one of her few friends in England, despite their radically different personalities.
“Yes, I know,” Elise said kindly.
Calliope smiled apologetically. “I don’t want to lose my closest friend in this country,” she explained. “I know I should be strong enough to stand up to her-”
“Don’t feel badly, dearest,” Elise said, squeezing her cousin’s hand comfortingly.
“I feel quite sorry for Draco’s poor wife,” Calliope admitted. “I wish there was something to do to keep Pansy from doing this.” She perked up. “You know Draco well. Why don’t you just tell him to refuse the invitation?”
Elise shook her dark head. “No, then Pansy will just think of something else.” She frowned, deep in thought, while Calliope nervously played with the ends of her long hair. It was after a long silence that Elise nodded decisively at her cousin. “I think the best thing to do is to go to Switzerland and let Pansy see for herself that stealing Draco back isn’t going to work. Besides,” she said with a smile, “I do enjoy Switzerland.”
“But- wait, you’re coming?” Calliope said hopefully.
Elise smiled. “It’s my family’s place, too, and it’s large enough for all of us. It’s perfectly natural for James and me to take a vacation. And the woods around the chateau are so lovely this time of year.”
“Well, I won’t feel half so awkward with you and James there,” Calliope smiled.
“That’s the hope,” Elise said.
Her next stop was Malfoy Manor. The house elf who answered the door was reluctant to let her in, as the Malfoys were in the middle of dinner, but when Draco realized who was at the door he immediately told his elf- Bernard, apparently, was his name- to let her in. Bernard led Elise to the dining room, where Draco and Ginny sat at the table eating dessert. With accute correctness that would have made the Zabinis’ house elves with green with envy, the elf announced Elise’s name to his masters.
It warmed Elise’s heart to see Ginny’s eyes light up as the two woman greeted each other. She had seen Ginny several times since their tea, sometimes with their husbands and sometimes without, and the two women had found they got on very well. Draco, too, looked pleased to see his old friend and greeted her warmly.
The trio sat at the dining table- Bernard looked a little surprised at this breach in protocol, but said nothing- and conversed pleasantly for several minutes. When the stream of small talk ended, Elise admitted she had a more serious reason for coming than a mere social call.
Ginny raised an eyebrow. “What is it?” she asked.
Elise looked at her, then at Draco. “I suppose you’ve gotten the invitation already?”
They both looked back at her blankly. “I don’t think so,” Ginny said. “What invitation?”
“No one’s owled you today?” Elise pressed.
Draco’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, right. I got an owl right before I left work today. I was going to read it when I got home, but I forgot.” Out of a robe pocket he produced a folded piece of parchment. Unfolding it quickly, he read the careful cursive writing, his face falling into a frown as he did so. Without commenting, he stood up and took the paper over for Ginny to read; Elise, watching them, marveled at how old-fashioned they were, sitting at opposite ends of the table like that.
“Who’s Calliope Galliard?” Ginny asked when she was finished.
“You saw her at the Stewarts’ party,” Draco answered. “She was talking to Pansy Parkinson.” He looked up at Elise. “She’s your cousin, right? Why would she want to take us to Switzerland?”
“Well, as it turns out it wasn’t her idea,” Elise answered. “As it turns out, what the invitation doesn’t mention is that the other person traveling with you, who is also the mastermind behind this scheme, is one Pansy Parkinson.”
“Pansy?” Draco repeated. “Why?”
“I suppose only she knows all the reasons,” Elise said, “but I imagine it has something to do with the fact that she can’t get over you being married to someone else.”
“So she wants us to go Switzerland . . .” Ginny began.
“To have a week to lure me away from you,” Draco finished.
“A week is all it takes?” Ginny asked. “You’re so fickle, Draco.”
Elise smiled wryly, well used to Draco and Ginny’s banter. “I believe that’s the basic idea. She wanted a week in the same house as you, but it would be suspicious without Ginny there, so she cooked up this silly honeymoon idea.”
“Well, there’s an easy solution to this,” Draco said. “I’ll just say no to the invitation.”
“Of course that could be a good idea,” Elise began, and Ginny looked at her in surprise, “but if you say no to this she’s just going to come up with some other plot. She’s a very determined woman.”
“This is true,” Draco said knowledgeably.
“What, then?” Ginny asked suspiciously.
“I think you should go,” Elise said, and both of her hosts grimaced. “No, hear me out. If you go to this, you will have a full week to convince her that she has absolutely no chance with you, Draco.”
“Or we could just get a restraining order,” he grumbled.
“No, that takes too much time,” Elise said reasonably. “But you haven’t heard the rest of my brilliant plan. She’s undoubtedly hoping that Calliope can keep Ginny occupied while she makes her move. So I have taken the liberty of inviting James and myself to the chateau as well. It belongs to the whole family, after all.”
“So it’ll be harder for her to get Draco alone,” Ginny said with the beginnings of a smile. “It makes sense.”
“No,” Draco said firmly, and the two women looked at him in surprise. “I refuse to play right into her hand like that. You don’t know her, Ginny. She fights dirty.”
“You fight dirty too, Draco,” Ginny pointed out with a smile.
Draco raised an eyebrow. “But with the best of intentions,” he replied charmingly.
Elise broke back in. “But if you don’t do this, she’ll just keep trying,” Elise said. “Wouldn’t you rather get it out of the way?” Her hosts still looked unconvinced, so she pulled out the big guns. “And I really think it would be a good idea for you to have a honeymoon. You don’t know what people have been saying.”
“What have they been saying?” Ginny asked suspiciously.
“None of your friends believe it,” Elise answered carefully, looking at Draco, “but other people have been saying . . . the way you two got married so quickly, with no ceremony or announcement or anything . . . there’s talk that maybe you had to get married.”
For some reason this made Ginny snort with laughter, and Draco rolled his eyes at her. “Wait, you didn’t really have to get married, did you?” Elise asked, suddenly very embarrassed. “You weren’t-” She paused, looking for a delicate way to say this. “You’re not expecting . . . anything, are you, Ginny?”
“What?” Ginny asked in surprise. “No, of course not. I just laughed because . . . I thought of something funny, that’s all.” She paused. “Wait, people think I’m pregnant?”
“Not really,” Elise reassured her, “but some people have wondered. But if you went on a honeymoon together, if you were seen together being the happily married couple I know you are, it would seem less like a . . . what’s the phrase? Shotgun wedding?”
“How vulgar,” Draco said in mild surprise.
“She has a point, though,” Ginny said. “Most married couples do have honeymoons.” She and her husband shared a long, significant look that made Elise wonder what they were thinking of.
Finally Draco sighed. “All right, we can go,” he said. “But you and James had better be there to save us from Pansy.”
“Absolutely,” Elise grinned. “And one more thing.”
“It’s always one more thing,” Draco groaned.
“It might be a good idea if you invited someone else,” Elise said. “Someone young- maybe an attractive single gentleman. Someone who could distract Calliope from distracting Ginny.”
“You’re suggesting that we use the same low tactics on your cousin that Pansy would have used on me?” Ginny asked in surprise.
“Of course not,” Elise said. “I adore Calliope. But with Pansy busy following Draco and everyone else married, he would naturally spend time with the only other non-married non-Draco-stalking member of the group.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Ginny said, “but I don’t know anyone suitable who’s going to be around next week. Draco?”
Draco frowned, obviously displeased with the way things were going but unable to ignore the validity of Elise’s remarks. “I suppose I could ask Seamus Finnigan,” he said finally.
“Oh, do,” Ginny said delightedly. “I adore Seamus.”
“Before I concede defeat in this, though,” Draco said, “let me simply say that I hate the thought of spending any time in the same house as that loudmouthed drunkard, and that Muggle loving prissy boy is the last person I’d want to spend a week with.”
“Now that you’ve made your token caustic remarks,” Ginny said drily, “will you admit defeat?”
“Fine,” he said. “I admit it. I’ve lost this round and my punishment is a week of Seamus and Pansy.”
“Excellent,” Elise said. “I’ll send word to prepare another room for Seamus.”
Ginny nodded in agreement while Draco sighed heavily. “All right,” she said. “To Switzerland.”
. . . . . .
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