. . . . . .
Wherever you are you should always be contented, but especially at home, because there you must spend the most of your time. - Jane Austen
. . . . . .
On Saturday morning they left Switzerland. Ginny would have liked to have stayed longer, but one of Elise and Calliope’s uncles was arriving with his family that afternoon, and they had to surrender the chateau to him. So, after finishing breakfast, they all packed their things and magicked their suitcases to float for easy carrying, and then it was time to leave. Elise and James Apparated first, hand in hand, and then Pansy went, still too starry-eyed over her evening with Jens Reichmann the third to notice the arm that Seamus had around Calliope’s waist. The two new lovebirds Apparated next, and then, after checking one last time that the front door was locked, Draco and Ginny followed suit, leaving the chateau still and empty.
On the northern coast of France they caught a return ferry to England. Ginny and Draco sat in stiff silence, listening to Seamus and Calliope, who sat laughing nearby. When the boat docked in Dover, they all bid each other warm farewells- except Pansy, who ignored all of them- and they Apparated home.
When Draco and Ginny went home to Malfoy Manor- Ginny was surprised to find just how much it felt like home- they stood silently in the front hall for a long moment, looking at the house around them. Ginny wanted to speak, but she didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter because just then Bernard approached and ruined the moment. So Ginny went to her room and Draco went to his, and they quickly slipped back into their old lives. Ginny spent the rest of the day at the Manor while Draco went into London to catch up on the work he’d missed. On Sunday Ginny visited her family while Draco took care of manorial business with Bernard and Snape. And by Monday evening, at which point they’d barely said two words to each other all day, Ginny was convinced that any sort of closeness they’d achieved in Switzerland was entirely gone.
This grieved her considerably. For the first month of their marriage, she’d tried to be somewhat amiable- except, of course, when he was being especially vexing- for the sake of a civil atmosphere at home. What she’d found in Switzerland, though, was that she liked him, for his own sake and not for the sake of their marriage. She wanted them to be friends, and she hoped they would remain friends even after they were no longer together. Their relationship, however, seemed to have taken an unfortunate step back.
Ginny considered this for several days, wondering why Draco had stopped being as warm and friendly as he had been, and it wasn’t until lunchtime on Wednesday, when Corbin was remarking on how difficult it was to keep his pet owl happy, that the thought finally occurred to her that she wasn’t making any particular effort, either. “Because friendship is a two-way street, isn’t it?” she remarked suddenly.
Corbin considered her a long moment. “That’s a very caring approach to owl raising,” he said finally.
“Oh, yes, owls. Charming creatures,” Ginny said, and turned back to her meal, feeling rather cheered. Perhaps Draco was distant because she was distant, too. She promised herself that the first thing she’d do when she got home was to greet him warmly and ask how his day was.
She never got the chance. When she got back to Malfoy Manor that evening, Draco met her at the door, a suitcase in one hand and a garment bag in the other. “I have to leave,” he told her.
There was a surprised moment’s pause. “What?” Ginny asked, when she found her voice.
“To France,” he explained. “I’ve been asked to go along on a diplomatic visit.”
“Oh,” Ginny replied in sudden understanding. “Right. Because of your job in International Cooperation.”
“They wanted someone familiar with the French Ministry, and that’s my area of expertise.” His face had its usual bland expression as he spoke, but as he looked at her a spark of amusement leapt into his eyes. “What did you think I meant?”
She blushed a little. “Honestly . . .” she said with a shrug, gesturing at his suitcase and letting him fill in the gaps.
He laughed, the first time he’d done so around her since Switzerland. “I bet that was heartrending.”
“Actually, I was just excited that I got the house.”
“Dream on, Weasel,” he retorted, and pulled out his wand. “I’ll be home some time Saturday.”
“I hope you have fun in France,” Ginny said.
“Not likely,” he scoffed. “We’re going to the president’s summer home in Corsica, off the southern coast. That means two boat rides each way.”
“Are their offices there?” she asked. “Why would you go to his home?”
That was the wrong thing to ask, it seemed, because Draco sobered quickly. “We do things like this all the time,” he said off-handedly, but Ginny had seen the flicker of worry that danced across his face. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but he spoke first. “I’d better get going.”
Remembering her vow to be friendly, she smiled. “Have a safe trip.”
“Thanks,” he said, and perhaps he could feel how unaccustomedly nice he sounded, because he added, “Try not to burn the place down.”
So Ginny gave him her best Pansy impersonation. “I’ll miss you, Drakey,” she simpered.
He made a face at her and left. Ginny stood at the door and watched him Apparate, then slipped inside and shut the door behind her, glad that they seemed to be talking again. But she still wondered what could be worrying him.
She ate dinner by herself and spent the evening doing paperwork she’d brought home from St. Mungo’s. Everything was quiet and empty; not even the house elves could be heard. As she climbed into bed, she noticed how oppressively dark and still the house was, and as she pondered this, she realized it was because Draco was gone.
This surprised her, that she would notice his absence. Of course, she’d felt alone the first night back from Switzerland, but that was because she had her bed to herself again; it made sense she would notice the change. And she had noticed it quite a bit. Her bed seemed so huge now that it was empty. She found she’d gotten used to having Draco next to her, used to the sound of his breathing. She’d even gotten used to him waking up continually throughout the night. Sleeping alone now seemed strange.
But what she didn’t expect was to feel so alone with the next room standing empty. Perhaps her joking comment would turn out to be true, and she would miss Draco. Stifling a sigh, she turned to look at the moonlight spilling over her pillow and wished earnestly that Draco was lying next to her.
Not wanting to spend another evening in such solitude, she decided during dinner on Thursday that she needed to get out for the evening. She was just wondering what to do when a knock came at the front door. A moment later she heard it creak open, and then Bernard appeared at the dining room door, bowed deeply, and announced the arrival of one Neville Longbottom.
Delighted, Ginny dropped her napkin on the table and flew into the entry hall, where Neville stood awkwardly, looking very out of place among the ornate furnishings. “Neville!” she laughed, engulfing her friend in a bear hug.
“Gin!” he exclaimed, horrified. “You shouldn’t do that!” He twisted away from her, looking around frantically.
Ginny just laughed again. “Draco’s not home,” she assured him. “Besides, he certainly couldn’t object to my hugging one of my best friends.”
Neville grinned, absurdly pleased, and Ginny took his arm. “Do you have time to stay? I want to show you around.”
He acquiesced, and she gave him the grand tour. Then, since it was still light out, she took him to the garden, where according to Draco the house elves grew a number of very rare plants. She knew nothing of plants herself, except those that pertained to healing, but she knew Neville would be interested.
Indeed he was interested, and Ginny watched with a smile as he examined a plant with large, translucent leaves. She should have asked him, as well as Colin and Luna, to visit her weeks ago, but after dealing with her family so much for the first few weeks, the idea hadn’t even appealed to her. And they, being the good friends they were, were willing to let her take her time. But now, finally settled in and finally convinced that Draco wouldn’t mind her going out with her friends, she found she wanted very much to spend some time with all of them. She told Neville as much.
“That’s what I came here about,” he replied as he straightened and wiped his dirty hands on his trousers, leaving dark smears on the gray cloth. Ginny stifled a laugh and was glad to know Neville never changed.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you remember Ralph Bunker?” Neville asked.
“Ralph- oh, Colin’s friend with the fake accent?” Ginny laughed. “How could I forget?”
Neville shook his head and made a face. “I know. But apparently he’s finally written a play that someone wants to produce.”
“Seriously?”
“Well, it’s a tiny Muggle theatre, but it is only a few tube stops from the West End,” Neville said, a wry smile on his face, because Neville had a sense of humor few people knew about.
“Well, congratulations, Ralph,” Ginny smiled. “And you’re going to see it?”
“Ralph gave Colin some comp tickets- only today, so sorry about the short notice- and there’s enough for you. And Draco, if he wants to go.”
“Draco’s away on business until Saturday,” Ginny replied. “But I’d love to come.”
“Great,” Neville smiled. “Do you want the ticket we meant for Draco anyway? Colin and I are both bringing dates, so if you wanted to bring a friend or something . . .”
“Sure, I’ll see about finding someone,” Ginny replied, smiling. “Thanks for inviting me.”
Neville paused, then, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sorry we haven’t hung out lately,” he said finally. “We wanted to, but we figured that with you married . . . and with Draco-”
He cut off, clearly embarrassed about nearly maligning Draco in front of his wife, and Ginny grinned wryly and finished his sentence. “And with Draco being Draco, you mean?”
Flushing red, Neville shrugged, and Ginny chuckled. “He’s not as bad as you might think, Neville.”
“I hope not,” Neville said wisely. “You married him, after all.” Ginny made a face at him, and the two friends went inside for a drink.
Immediately after Neville’s departure, Ginny Flooed Luna and asked if she’d like to go to the play. Luna seemed delighted and immediately launched into a explanation of the Muggle Labor Party’s conspiracy to control London theatre. Ginny took that as a yes.
So, Friday night, she and Luna met the rest of the party at a wizard pub around the corner from the theater. Neville, dressed in those formal robes that always looked out of place on him, was standing with his date, a quiet girl named Olive, who didn’t seem like she enjoyed being there at all. “Gran set us up,” Neville told Ginny later. “She and Olive’s mum are friends.”
Colin’s date, by stark contrast, was entirely too enthusiastic and entirely too familiar to Ginny. It was Romilda Vane, their old classmate, clinging possessively to Colin’s arm- though that didn’t deter her, Ginny noticed with amusement, from asking a bit poutily why Draco wasn’t there. Ginny couldn’t tell if Colin noticed or not; he looked a bit ill at ease, but then he usually did.
After brief introductions had been made, the group left the pub and walked down to the theater, a building so small and dismal they barely noticed it behind its rather garish neon sign. And considering the dreary building, it was really no surprise that the play was awful. Ginny had expected it to be, of course, but nothing could have prepared her for the actual badness of it. She found herself feeling rather glad Draco hadn’t come; he would only have laughed.
When the curtain finally fell to a polite smattering of applause, the group looked at each other a long moment, no one wanting to be the first to comment. “Well,” Luna said after a moment’s thought, “I can definitely see how the Labor Party had a hand in that.”
Ginny and Neville both laughed, which seemed to irritate Neville’s date somewhat, so Ginny quickly spoken up. “Why don’t we head back to that pub we met at and catch up? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you guys.”
Neville looked to Olive, who shrugged disdainfully, and Romilda’s enthusiastic expression made it clear she agreed. “All right,” Colin said after looking around. “But first I have to go see Ralph. I promised I would.”
“Oh, great,” said Olive loudly, and Ginny made a face at her back as they followed Colin down the aisle.
After a moment, she spoke to Luna. “How have you been?”
“Very well, thanks,” Luna responded somewhat airily. “My work at the newspaper keeps me busy. And Harry’s doing well,” she added suddenly.
“Is he?” Ginny asked, wondering where that had come from.
“Yes, mostly,” Luna said. “I see him quite often now that I’m The Quibbler’s Ministry correspondent.”
“Well, I’m glad he’s doing well.”
“I think your marriage upset him,” Luna said in one of her characteristic blunt statements. “He seemed agitated whenever anyone mentioned it for weeks afterward.”
Ginny grimaced. “For weeks? Really?”
Luna nodded. “Most people fall over themselves to adore him. The fact that you spurned him was quite an eye-opener, I think.”
“I think my marriage upset a lot of people,” Ginny said, shaking her head, as she and Luna followed the rest of their group backstage to find Ralph.
“You’re twenty-three years old,” Luna pointed out. “If you were a Bavarian pygmy, you’d be considered middle-aged. You’re old enough to make these decisions on your own.”
“It’s not the age,” Ginny said with a smile, fiddling absent-mindedly with a watering can on the prop table. “I just really hated upsetting my family.”
“Family is so vitally important, isn’t it?” responded Luna airily. “They have such an influence on you when you’re young.” After a moment, she added, “What’s Draco’s family like?”
For a moment Ginny searched for words to describe the Malfoys without painting them as evil, but finally giving up, she said simply, “They’re dead.”
“Poor boy,” Luna said, shaking her head.
“Poor boy?” Ginny repeated. “Yes, I suppose it is sad about his parents.” The word that she actually used when thinking about Lucius’ death was “fortunate,” but then she was thinking of him only as a Death Eater, not as Draco’s father.
“Very,” Luna replied. “He has no family left. I looked up his relations when I was researching the family for a Quibbler article, and the only ones who aren’t dead are the Tonkses, and they don’t really get along with him.” She observed Ginny a moment, her head cocked to one side, thimble earrings swinging. “He’s so lucky to have you.”
Startled, Ginny opened her mouth but was saved from answering when Colin brought Ralph around to introduce to everyone. “Interesting play,” she said weakly when he shook her hand.
“Quite,” Luna popped in, looking the young man up and down. “So, how does your party feel about the Prime Minister’s stand on censorship?”
Ginny was still laughing at the look on Ralph’s face ten minutes later, when their group had gathered at the pub down the street. Ralph clearly didn’t even know who the Prime Minister was, let alone how he felt about any political issues. That was what she loved about Luna- there was never a dull moment, because she was not afraid to say anything.
Of course, that could always make things more uncomfortable, such as when she decided to analyze Draco. But Luna’s words did have the fortunate effect of making Ginny think about Draco’s family life. She found that she still sometimes, when fighting with Draco, found herself comparing him to Ron or to Harry. But Draco wasn’t like them. He had an entire childhood of bad influence from his father that he had to fight in order to be good. Really, it showed how strong he was.
Perhaps it was all this thinking about Draco that led her to say what she did at the pub. But, looking back on it, she really felt that she had been provoked. The problem wasn’t any of her friends, who were all jovial and talkative at the pub. The problem wasn’t even Romilda Vane, who continued to express how very sorry she was Draco hadn’t been able to come, and exactly how rich was he, by the way? No, it all began with quiet little Olive, who barely said a word but who’d been shooting strange looks at Ginny all night. It bothered Ginny a little, but not knowing what to do about it, she simply ignored the girl.
It wasn’t until some time later that Ginny realized how she’d earned Olive’s dislike. They were all discussing their old friends the Patils, who had both been seriously injured in an attack during the war. “Yes, that attack,” Olive said suddenly, looking hard at Ginny. “It was led by Lucius Malfoy, wasn’t it?”
Ginny raised her eyebrows in surprise, but it was Colin who replied. “It was,” he said slowly. “Why do you ask?”
“Just pointing out that he did a lot of damage during the war,” Olive said with a careful shrug. “The Patils are friends of mine, and I’ve always thought it was dreadful, what that man did to them.”
“Everyone thinks it’s dreadful,” Neville responded evenly, shooting a glance at Ginny.
“Perhaps not everyone,” the girl responded pointedly. “I think some people have forgiven the Malfoys very quickly.”
“The Malfoys?” Ginny shot back immediately. “I thought we were talking about Lucius. When did all the Malfoys get wrapped up in this?”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean that,” said Romilda unexpectedly, and Ginny wondered if she was trying to soothe everyone’s ruffled feathers, or if she really was stupid enough to think that Olive hadn’t meant what she’d said. “After all, everyone knows Draco fought on our side.” She smiled beatifically and Colin shot her an appreciative look.
“Yes, but do we really know why?” Olive retorted, ignoring the looks Neville was giving her. She’d obviously been waiting to say this all night and wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of her righteous indignation. “Everyone says he just wanted to keep his house and money.”
“What?” Ginny nearly exploded, then forced herself to calm down. “May I remind you that this is my husband you’re maligning?”
“Well, obviously you need to be set straight,” Olive said superiorly. “A lot of people were very upset when you married him, and there’s been a lot of talk about how he managed to get you into it. You come from a family that many people have looked up to since the war, and to align yourself with a family of Death Eaters-”
“Draco’s not a Death Eater!” Ginny shot back, louder than she’d intended to, and several patrons at the bar looked over in surprise. “He never was, and he never will be, so stop saying that!” Through her rising anger, she vaguely registered the thought that Olive was only saying things she herself had thought two months ago, but suddenly to hear a stranger speak ill of Draco was too much to bear. She paused a moment to collect herself, then said in a calmer voice, “You don’t know him. He’s a wonderful person. He’s thoughtful, and intelligent, and considerate, and loyal, and he wouldn’t hurt anyone. He never even considered becoming a Death Eater. So go back to all those people that you claim keep wasting their time thinking about my marriage, and tell them that Draco’s not his father, and that I am with him now because I care about him.” She stood and gathered her things, suddenly eager to be home at Malfoy Manor. “Colin, Neville, thanks for the invitation. Luna, Romilda, good to see you again.” The two men looked concerned and the two women smiled jovially back at her as she pulled her wand out. Just before Apparating, she leaned over the table toward Olive. “And by the way, he didn’t ‘get me’ into this marriage. I proposed to him. And you can tell that to all your gossiping friends.”
As she Apparated, she reflected with amusement that she’d been using that half-lie a lot lately. And as she looked up the long stairway in the front hall of the Manor, she reflected with surprise on the fact that she’d meant everything else she’d said. Not wanting to dwell on this too long, she hurried upstairs to bed, thinking smilingly to herself that Draco would be home the next day.
. . . . . .
Early Saturday evening, Draco stepped, for what felt like the twentieth time in the last few weeks, from the ferry to the dock. Once off the ship, he set his luggage down for a moment, catching his breath before he tried to Apparate. He was tired- tired of travel, tired of French government officials, and most of all, tired of boats.
Unfortunately, he was not free yet; there was still a good deal to do to follow up their trip, so much so that one of his coworkers, a man called Wilde, was returning to the Manor with him to discuss several matters that hadn’t been resolved. Draco was annoyed at this intrusion on his time, but at least if he took care of things now he would have Sunday all to himself.
He stretched his arms as he and Wilde bid farewell to their co-workers, also trudging onto the docks and disappearing with loud cracks. They all looked as tired as Draco felt, all exhausted from a trying visit. Draco stifled a sigh. There was trouble brewing in France, trouble that could affect all of them, and they’d spent the whole week trying desperately to avoid it. And at the end of the visit, he couldn’t honestly say that they’d really achieved what they set out to do. It was frustrating, and he could see why his compatriots looked so discouraged. They all seemed cheered, though, at going home, because they were going home to their families. And it wasn’t until Draco and Wilde had Apparated to the Manor that Draco realized that for the first time in his professional life, he was doing the same.
The thought made a small smile cross his face as he set down his luggage and stretched his arms. It was comforting, in a way, to see lights twinkling merrily out of the windows of the Manor- especially as “merry” was not a word he often used to describe the house. Of course, besides the time he stayed at 12 Grimmauld Place, he’d never before come home to an empty, dark house, but coming home to a house full of house elves was not nearly as satisfying as coming home to his wife, even if that wife was Ginny Weasley, who only married him for money and to spite her family.
“This is it, eh, Malfoy?” Wilde said, looking Malfoy Manor up and down appreciatively. “This is quite a nice little setup. And a lot of room, just for you.”
“And my wife,” Draco corrected as he walked up the front steps and opened the door.
“Oh, of course,” Wilde said. “That little Weasley girl, right?”
Draco set down his luggage and sighed contentedly. It was so nice to be home where it was warm and familiar, and he smiled as he hung up his cloak and motioned for Wilde to do the same. “Her name’s Ginny,” he said, and saying her name made him suddenly eager to see her. So he crossed the hall to the bottom of the stairs and called her name.
A few moments later she appeared at the top of the stairs, grinning. “Draco, you’re home!” she said as she hurried down the stairs. Her eyes must have fallen on Wilde, then, because she looked surprised for a brief moment. “And you’ve brought a guest!” She hurried down the last few steps and launched herself into Draco’s arms, apparently eager to keep up their charade, even in front of a total stranger. But she did really seem glad to see him, which was fine by Draco, because he was glad to see her.
He hugged her tightly a long moment, then pulled away to introduce Wilde, though he kept one arm around his wife’s waist. He’d found in Switzerland that it was a very comfortable place for his arm to go. After introductions, he explained, “Mr. Wilde and I have some business from France we need to finish tonight.”
“But you just got home!” Ginny responded immediately, sounding quite sincere. Draco hid a smile. She really was a very good actress.
“I know. But I’ll hurry.”
“All right,” Ginny sighed. “There’s dinner waiting for you. And I’m sure there’s enough for Mr. Wilde, too, if he’s hungry.”
“Thank you, darling,” Draco said, and kissed her cheek for good measure. She smiled at him and, after bidding Wilde farewell, disappeared back up the stairs.
It was nearly eleven before Wilde finally left and Draco was finally able to collapse on his bed. He lay there a few moments, staring at the ceiling, then crossed the room and knocked on Ginny’s door. There was no answer. Unsure of whether she was angry with him or just preoccupied, he poked his head in. The room was empty, and from the sounds coming from the bathroom, Draco deduced that she was in the shower. So he sat down on her bed to wait.
A few minutes later the water stopped and Ginny came out the bathroom in her pajamas. “Draco,” she said, surprised. “Welcome to my bed.”
“Thanks,” he said seriously. “You don’t mind me taking it, do you?”
“As long as I get it back eventually,” she laughed. “What are you doing in here?”
Draco shrugged. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you earlier,” he explained.
Ginny seemed surprised by that, but then she smiled, almost shyly. “All right. How was France, then?”
“It was all right,” he replied, watching as she picked her wand up off her dresser and used it to dry her hair. “I mean, France is always beautiful this time of year-”
“Always,” Ginny agreed.
“-so it was nice to be there, but it was still a working trip.”
Ginny placed her wand back on the dresser and came to sit on the floor beside him, leaning against the bed. “That’s too bad,” she said. “But was it a successful working trip? Did you get whatever it was you were worrying about taken care of?”
Rather surprised that she’d picked up on his concern, Draco examined his wife for a moment, wondering if he should tell her. The Department of International Cooperation had protocol, of course, about who could and couldn’t be told about certain events, but he’d never paid attention to it; he’d never had anyone he wanted to tell before. In the end, he decided it was wisest to stay silent and not risk saying something Ginny wasn’t meant to hear. So he simply shrugged. “It was a step in the right direction,” he answered truthfully. “How was your week?”
At that, Ginny laughed. “Well,” she said, smiling, “let me tell you about my evening on Friday.” She went on to tell him about the evening she’d spent with her friends at a London play, and the argument she’d gotten in with Neville Longbottom’s date. As she explained the girl’s harsh words against the Malfoys, Draco frowned a little- would he never escape comparisons with his father?- but that quickly turned to a smile as Ginny told him of her reply.
“You really told her off for me?” he asked, laughing.
“Well, for both of us,” Ginny shrugged. “If you were a Death Eater, that would certainly reflect poorly on me, too.”
“Of course,” Draco said, leaning back against Ginny’s pillows. “Well, I guess I don’t have to be too grateful, then.”
Ginny lightly hit his arm, and Draco pulled a face at her, which quickly turned into a look of surprise as a sudden thought hit him. “I almost forgot, he said, sitting up. “Speaking of Friday nights, keep this coming Friday open.”
“Let me guess,” Ginny said. “Good theater? Or is there such a thing? I’ve forgotten.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you let Colin Creevey pick your play,” Draco said primly. “Honestly, he used to consider Potter-watching great entertainment. You expect him to know good theater?”
“It’s true. He has awful taste,” Ginny agreed solemnly. “I mean, he used to think you were one of the school’s top Quidditch players.”
Draco narrowed his eyes. “Do you want to hear my news or not?”
“Sorry,” she laughed. “Please, tell me, what’s happening next Friday?”
“A ball, thrown by the Ministry, for members of the French ministry.”
“Ooh, a ball,” Ginny said, sitting up straighter. “I haven’t been to a proper ball since the Yule Ball. If that can be considered proper.”
“It can’t,” Draco immediately informed her. “This is going to be quite fancy. You’ll probably need to buy a new dress for it. Elise is going; I bet she’d love to take you shopping.”
“I bet she would,” Ginny laughed. “Is it at the Ministry?”
“No, it’ll be in France. Since it’s for the French, we thought we’d give them the short ride home.”
Ginny leaned back and sighed. “A ball in France, a new gown- being married to you does occasionally have its perks, Draco.”
“Occasionally?” he demanded. “What about the fact that you’re with me every day of your life? That seems like a pretty consistent perk. I would think any girl would love that.”
“And yet you only attract gold diggers,” Ginny said with a sigh.
There was a moment of stunned silence while Draco stared and Ginny’s eyes widened, as though she’d just realized what she said. Draco was the first to respond. “Ginevra Molly Weasley Malfoy!” he exclaimed, shocked. “I can’t believe you just said that!”
“Neither can I,” Ginny said in a small voice. “I’m sorry, Draco, I didn’t mean to-”
She broke off as Draco burst into laughter. “Ginny,” he said, throwing a pillow at her, “it makes me sad that no one knows how truly evil you can be.”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Ginny said wryly, and threw the pillow back at Draco as they both lapsed into silence. Draco supposed he could go to bed, but he didn’t want to just yet. So he turned onto his side to look at Ginny and said, “So, you really think Romilda Vane wants me?”
That immediately became their nightly tradition. Before going to bed each night, Draco would go into Ginny’s room and they would talk- sometimes for only a few minutes, sometimes for much longer than that. Draco was glad to have a chance to talk to Ginny; they had become rather good friends in Switzerland, he thought, but something about returning home had spoiled that for them. Now, though, they had a few minutes to talk together, uninterrupted by house elves or visitors or owls or paperwork.
Those few minutes they had together turned out to be quite a boon, because for the next week Draco found himself compelled to stay at work late for meetings and extra paperwork. The department was eager to have their ball a success, and every employee familiar with France was roped into helping with everything from discerning which members of the French government were mostly likely to be sympathetic to their cause to deciding what should be served at dinner.
When Draco got home late Thursday night, Ginny pounced on him as soon as he’d changed into his pajamas and dragged him to her wardrobe to see the dress she and Elise had bought. Draco didn’t know a lot about dresses, but it seemed similar to dresses he’d seen other women wear, which he assumed was a good sign, so he told Ginny he liked it. As this seemed to please her, he decided it had been a good answer.
“But I’m not sure about the shoes,” Ginny said, pulling out a pair of strappy stilettos. “Are they too tall?”
Draco shrugged. “As long as you can waltz in them, I’d say they’re fine.”
The shoes fell to the floor with a thud. “Waltz? We have to waltz?”
“It’s a ball,” Draco said, feeling as though this should have been obvious. “What did you expect?”
“I expected it would be like the Stewarts’ party,” Ginny rejoined immediately. “We didn’t dance there?”
“Ah, but that was not a ball,” Draco replied. “This will have dinner and dancing and the whole formal affair. You really didn’t know?”
“You didn’t tell me,” Ginny shot back. “Draco, I can’t dance! Not like that, anyway.”
“You went to the Yule Ball.”
“Ten years ago,” Ginny retorted. “I don’t remember that silly dance we did at all.”
Draco opened his mouth to retort, then shut it silently. He was exhausted from a long day at work, and all he wanted to do was fall asleep, but the ball was the next day, and Ginny needed to learn to dance. So he would teach her. “Come on,” he said, walking to the door.
“Where are we going?” Ginny asked, hurrying after him.
“To teach you to dance.”
They went to the top floor of the Manor, to a large corner room that Draco knew was empty. It had always been empty, because Lucius didn’t like the way the ceiling slanted with the roof, but Draco rather liked it. As they walked in, he pulled his wand out to light the lamps, but as his eyes adjusted and he saw how much moonlight was coming in through the skylights- courtesy of a remodel by Draco’s grandmother- he changed his mind and put his wand back.
“Now,” he said, taking Ginny’s hand and leading her to the center of the room, “put that hand on my shoulder and leave that one up here. Stand up straight, feet together. Now, step backward with that foot.” There was a thud as Ginny ran straight into him “Ginny,” Draco asked, “which way is backward?”
“Oh, you mean my backward,” Ginny said sheepishly.
“Yes,” Draco said, stifling a sigh. “Your backward. Now, try again.”
It took some doing, but before long Ginny could do a respectable basic step. “Good!” Draco complimented. “Now, try to keep doing this step over and over.”
Ginny nodded and, eyes down on her feet, began to rehearse the steps. After a moment, he realized that she was softly saying to herself, “One-two-three, one-two three.”
It was the only sound in the room besides their soft footsteps on the floor. Draco smiled to himself as he looked down at her bent head. It reminded him of when he learned to dance, and of the way he and his mother would waltz together in the ballroom after his lessons. She would never reprimand him for looking at his feet, although it made his dancing teacher angry. So he didn’t tell Ginny to look up; he simply looked down at her auburn hair and marveled at how different his two dance partners were. Narcissa was always elegant. He had never seen a hair out of place on her head, and she was always dressed to the nines- she would never have been caught in the t-shirt and purple pajama pants Ginny was wearing, and she never would have left her bedroom with her hair in such a state. And yet in one way they were the same: dancing with them made him feel safe.
“I think I’ve got it,” Ginny said suddenly, her feet still moving carefully across the floor.
“That looks good,” Draco said, and then was silent as Ginny looked up into his eyes and smiled. Her hair was a mess and she wore no makeup, but as she looked at him the moonlight came slanting through the windows and fell across her face, and he caught his breath; it surprised him that he’d never realized that she was beautiful. That threw him a bit; he was not in the habit of finding girls like her attractive, and yet there she stood, innocent and unassuming and lovely. He thought briefly that he ought to tell her, but that seemed strange so he simply said, “You’ll do fine tomorrow.”
“Or today,” she grinned. “What time is it?”
Draco checked his watch. “Time for bed,” he said. “I’m exhausted.”
Ginny linked her arm through his as they walked out of the room. “Thank you for teaching me,” she said.
“Well,” Draco said modestly, “I just didn’t want you to embarrass me in front of all of France.”
“Draco Malfoy,” said Ginny, “you say the sweetest things.”
. . . . . .
Wherever you are you should always be contented, but especially at home, because there you must spend the most of your time. - Jane Austen
. . . . . .
On Saturday morning they left Switzerland. Ginny would have liked to have stayed longer, but one of Elise and Calliope’s uncles was arriving with his family that afternoon, and they had to surrender the chateau to him. So, after finishing breakfast, they all packed their things and magicked their suitcases to float for easy carrying, and then it was time to leave. Elise and James Apparated first, hand in hand, and then Pansy went, still too starry-eyed over her evening with Jens Reichmann the third to notice the arm that Seamus had around Calliope’s waist. The two new lovebirds Apparated next, and then, after checking one last time that the front door was locked, Draco and Ginny followed suit, leaving the chateau still and empty.
On the northern coast of France they caught a return ferry to England. Ginny and Draco sat in stiff silence, listening to Seamus and Calliope, who sat laughing nearby. When the boat docked in Dover, they all bid each other warm farewells- except Pansy, who ignored all of them- and they Apparated home.
When Draco and Ginny went home to Malfoy Manor- Ginny was surprised to find just how much it felt like home- they stood silently in the front hall for a long moment, looking at the house around them. Ginny wanted to speak, but she didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter because just then Bernard approached and ruined the moment. So Ginny went to her room and Draco went to his, and they quickly slipped back into their old lives. Ginny spent the rest of the day at the Manor while Draco went into London to catch up on the work he’d missed. On Sunday Ginny visited her family while Draco took care of manorial business with Bernard and Snape. And by Monday evening, at which point they’d barely said two words to each other all day, Ginny was convinced that any sort of closeness they’d achieved in Switzerland was entirely gone.
This grieved her considerably. For the first month of their marriage, she’d tried to be somewhat amiable- except, of course, when he was being especially vexing- for the sake of a civil atmosphere at home. What she’d found in Switzerland, though, was that she liked him, for his own sake and not for the sake of their marriage. She wanted them to be friends, and she hoped they would remain friends even after they were no longer together. Their relationship, however, seemed to have taken an unfortunate step back.
Ginny considered this for several days, wondering why Draco had stopped being as warm and friendly as he had been, and it wasn’t until lunchtime on Wednesday, when Corbin was remarking on how difficult it was to keep his pet owl happy, that the thought finally occurred to her that she wasn’t making any particular effort, either. “Because friendship is a two-way street, isn’t it?” she remarked suddenly.
Corbin considered her a long moment. “That’s a very caring approach to owl raising,” he said finally.
“Oh, yes, owls. Charming creatures,” Ginny said, and turned back to her meal, feeling rather cheered. Perhaps Draco was distant because she was distant, too. She promised herself that the first thing she’d do when she got home was to greet him warmly and ask how his day was.
She never got the chance. When she got back to Malfoy Manor that evening, Draco met her at the door, a suitcase in one hand and a garment bag in the other. “I have to leave,” he told her.
There was a surprised moment’s pause. “What?” Ginny asked, when she found her voice.
“To France,” he explained. “I’ve been asked to go along on a diplomatic visit.”
“Oh,” Ginny replied in sudden understanding. “Right. Because of your job in International Cooperation.”
“They wanted someone familiar with the French Ministry, and that’s my area of expertise.” His face had its usual bland expression as he spoke, but as he looked at her a spark of amusement leapt into his eyes. “What did you think I meant?”
She blushed a little. “Honestly . . .” she said with a shrug, gesturing at his suitcase and letting him fill in the gaps.
He laughed, the first time he’d done so around her since Switzerland. “I bet that was heartrending.”
“Actually, I was just excited that I got the house.”
“Dream on, Weasel,” he retorted, and pulled out his wand. “I’ll be home some time Saturday.”
“I hope you have fun in France,” Ginny said.
“Not likely,” he scoffed. “We’re going to the president’s summer home in Corsica, off the southern coast. That means two boat rides each way.”
“Are their offices there?” she asked. “Why would you go to his home?”
That was the wrong thing to ask, it seemed, because Draco sobered quickly. “We do things like this all the time,” he said off-handedly, but Ginny had seen the flicker of worry that danced across his face. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but he spoke first. “I’d better get going.”
Remembering her vow to be friendly, she smiled. “Have a safe trip.”
“Thanks,” he said, and perhaps he could feel how unaccustomedly nice he sounded, because he added, “Try not to burn the place down.”
So Ginny gave him her best Pansy impersonation. “I’ll miss you, Drakey,” she simpered.
He made a face at her and left. Ginny stood at the door and watched him Apparate, then slipped inside and shut the door behind her, glad that they seemed to be talking again. But she still wondered what could be worrying him.
She ate dinner by herself and spent the evening doing paperwork she’d brought home from St. Mungo’s. Everything was quiet and empty; not even the house elves could be heard. As she climbed into bed, she noticed how oppressively dark and still the house was, and as she pondered this, she realized it was because Draco was gone.
This surprised her, that she would notice his absence. Of course, she’d felt alone the first night back from Switzerland, but that was because she had her bed to herself again; it made sense she would notice the change. And she had noticed it quite a bit. Her bed seemed so huge now that it was empty. She found she’d gotten used to having Draco next to her, used to the sound of his breathing. She’d even gotten used to him waking up continually throughout the night. Sleeping alone now seemed strange.
But what she didn’t expect was to feel so alone with the next room standing empty. Perhaps her joking comment would turn out to be true, and she would miss Draco. Stifling a sigh, she turned to look at the moonlight spilling over her pillow and wished earnestly that Draco was lying next to her.
Not wanting to spend another evening in such solitude, she decided during dinner on Thursday that she needed to get out for the evening. She was just wondering what to do when a knock came at the front door. A moment later she heard it creak open, and then Bernard appeared at the dining room door, bowed deeply, and announced the arrival of one Neville Longbottom.
Delighted, Ginny dropped her napkin on the table and flew into the entry hall, where Neville stood awkwardly, looking very out of place among the ornate furnishings. “Neville!” she laughed, engulfing her friend in a bear hug.
“Gin!” he exclaimed, horrified. “You shouldn’t do that!” He twisted away from her, looking around frantically.
Ginny just laughed again. “Draco’s not home,” she assured him. “Besides, he certainly couldn’t object to my hugging one of my best friends.”
Neville grinned, absurdly pleased, and Ginny took his arm. “Do you have time to stay? I want to show you around.”
He acquiesced, and she gave him the grand tour. Then, since it was still light out, she took him to the garden, where according to Draco the house elves grew a number of very rare plants. She knew nothing of plants herself, except those that pertained to healing, but she knew Neville would be interested.
Indeed he was interested, and Ginny watched with a smile as he examined a plant with large, translucent leaves. She should have asked him, as well as Colin and Luna, to visit her weeks ago, but after dealing with her family so much for the first few weeks, the idea hadn’t even appealed to her. And they, being the good friends they were, were willing to let her take her time. But now, finally settled in and finally convinced that Draco wouldn’t mind her going out with her friends, she found she wanted very much to spend some time with all of them. She told Neville as much.
“That’s what I came here about,” he replied as he straightened and wiped his dirty hands on his trousers, leaving dark smears on the gray cloth. Ginny stifled a laugh and was glad to know Neville never changed.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you remember Ralph Bunker?” Neville asked.
“Ralph- oh, Colin’s friend with the fake accent?” Ginny laughed. “How could I forget?”
Neville shook his head and made a face. “I know. But apparently he’s finally written a play that someone wants to produce.”
“Seriously?”
“Well, it’s a tiny Muggle theatre, but it is only a few tube stops from the West End,” Neville said, a wry smile on his face, because Neville had a sense of humor few people knew about.
“Well, congratulations, Ralph,” Ginny smiled. “And you’re going to see it?”
“Ralph gave Colin some comp tickets- only today, so sorry about the short notice- and there’s enough for you. And Draco, if he wants to go.”
“Draco’s away on business until Saturday,” Ginny replied. “But I’d love to come.”
“Great,” Neville smiled. “Do you want the ticket we meant for Draco anyway? Colin and I are both bringing dates, so if you wanted to bring a friend or something . . .”
“Sure, I’ll see about finding someone,” Ginny replied, smiling. “Thanks for inviting me.”
Neville paused, then, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sorry we haven’t hung out lately,” he said finally. “We wanted to, but we figured that with you married . . . and with Draco-”
He cut off, clearly embarrassed about nearly maligning Draco in front of his wife, and Ginny grinned wryly and finished his sentence. “And with Draco being Draco, you mean?”
Flushing red, Neville shrugged, and Ginny chuckled. “He’s not as bad as you might think, Neville.”
“I hope not,” Neville said wisely. “You married him, after all.” Ginny made a face at him, and the two friends went inside for a drink.
Immediately after Neville’s departure, Ginny Flooed Luna and asked if she’d like to go to the play. Luna seemed delighted and immediately launched into a explanation of the Muggle Labor Party’s conspiracy to control London theatre. Ginny took that as a yes.
So, Friday night, she and Luna met the rest of the party at a wizard pub around the corner from the theater. Neville, dressed in those formal robes that always looked out of place on him, was standing with his date, a quiet girl named Olive, who didn’t seem like she enjoyed being there at all. “Gran set us up,” Neville told Ginny later. “She and Olive’s mum are friends.”
Colin’s date, by stark contrast, was entirely too enthusiastic and entirely too familiar to Ginny. It was Romilda Vane, their old classmate, clinging possessively to Colin’s arm- though that didn’t deter her, Ginny noticed with amusement, from asking a bit poutily why Draco wasn’t there. Ginny couldn’t tell if Colin noticed or not; he looked a bit ill at ease, but then he usually did.
After brief introductions had been made, the group left the pub and walked down to the theater, a building so small and dismal they barely noticed it behind its rather garish neon sign. And considering the dreary building, it was really no surprise that the play was awful. Ginny had expected it to be, of course, but nothing could have prepared her for the actual badness of it. She found herself feeling rather glad Draco hadn’t come; he would only have laughed.
When the curtain finally fell to a polite smattering of applause, the group looked at each other a long moment, no one wanting to be the first to comment. “Well,” Luna said after a moment’s thought, “I can definitely see how the Labor Party had a hand in that.”
Ginny and Neville both laughed, which seemed to irritate Neville’s date somewhat, so Ginny quickly spoken up. “Why don’t we head back to that pub we met at and catch up? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you guys.”
Neville looked to Olive, who shrugged disdainfully, and Romilda’s enthusiastic expression made it clear she agreed. “All right,” Colin said after looking around. “But first I have to go see Ralph. I promised I would.”
“Oh, great,” said Olive loudly, and Ginny made a face at her back as they followed Colin down the aisle.
After a moment, she spoke to Luna. “How have you been?”
“Very well, thanks,” Luna responded somewhat airily. “My work at the newspaper keeps me busy. And Harry’s doing well,” she added suddenly.
“Is he?” Ginny asked, wondering where that had come from.
“Yes, mostly,” Luna said. “I see him quite often now that I’m The Quibbler’s Ministry correspondent.”
“Well, I’m glad he’s doing well.”
“I think your marriage upset him,” Luna said in one of her characteristic blunt statements. “He seemed agitated whenever anyone mentioned it for weeks afterward.”
Ginny grimaced. “For weeks? Really?”
Luna nodded. “Most people fall over themselves to adore him. The fact that you spurned him was quite an eye-opener, I think.”
“I think my marriage upset a lot of people,” Ginny said, shaking her head, as she and Luna followed the rest of their group backstage to find Ralph.
“You’re twenty-three years old,” Luna pointed out. “If you were a Bavarian pygmy, you’d be considered middle-aged. You’re old enough to make these decisions on your own.”
“It’s not the age,” Ginny said with a smile, fiddling absent-mindedly with a watering can on the prop table. “I just really hated upsetting my family.”
“Family is so vitally important, isn’t it?” responded Luna airily. “They have such an influence on you when you’re young.” After a moment, she added, “What’s Draco’s family like?”
For a moment Ginny searched for words to describe the Malfoys without painting them as evil, but finally giving up, she said simply, “They’re dead.”
“Poor boy,” Luna said, shaking her head.
“Poor boy?” Ginny repeated. “Yes, I suppose it is sad about his parents.” The word that she actually used when thinking about Lucius’ death was “fortunate,” but then she was thinking of him only as a Death Eater, not as Draco’s father.
“Very,” Luna replied. “He has no family left. I looked up his relations when I was researching the family for a Quibbler article, and the only ones who aren’t dead are the Tonkses, and they don’t really get along with him.” She observed Ginny a moment, her head cocked to one side, thimble earrings swinging. “He’s so lucky to have you.”
Startled, Ginny opened her mouth but was saved from answering when Colin brought Ralph around to introduce to everyone. “Interesting play,” she said weakly when he shook her hand.
“Quite,” Luna popped in, looking the young man up and down. “So, how does your party feel about the Prime Minister’s stand on censorship?”
Ginny was still laughing at the look on Ralph’s face ten minutes later, when their group had gathered at the pub down the street. Ralph clearly didn’t even know who the Prime Minister was, let alone how he felt about any political issues. That was what she loved about Luna- there was never a dull moment, because she was not afraid to say anything.
Of course, that could always make things more uncomfortable, such as when she decided to analyze Draco. But Luna’s words did have the fortunate effect of making Ginny think about Draco’s family life. She found that she still sometimes, when fighting with Draco, found herself comparing him to Ron or to Harry. But Draco wasn’t like them. He had an entire childhood of bad influence from his father that he had to fight in order to be good. Really, it showed how strong he was.
Perhaps it was all this thinking about Draco that led her to say what she did at the pub. But, looking back on it, she really felt that she had been provoked. The problem wasn’t any of her friends, who were all jovial and talkative at the pub. The problem wasn’t even Romilda Vane, who continued to express how very sorry she was Draco hadn’t been able to come, and exactly how rich was he, by the way? No, it all began with quiet little Olive, who barely said a word but who’d been shooting strange looks at Ginny all night. It bothered Ginny a little, but not knowing what to do about it, she simply ignored the girl.
It wasn’t until some time later that Ginny realized how she’d earned Olive’s dislike. They were all discussing their old friends the Patils, who had both been seriously injured in an attack during the war. “Yes, that attack,” Olive said suddenly, looking hard at Ginny. “It was led by Lucius Malfoy, wasn’t it?”
Ginny raised her eyebrows in surprise, but it was Colin who replied. “It was,” he said slowly. “Why do you ask?”
“Just pointing out that he did a lot of damage during the war,” Olive said with a careful shrug. “The Patils are friends of mine, and I’ve always thought it was dreadful, what that man did to them.”
“Everyone thinks it’s dreadful,” Neville responded evenly, shooting a glance at Ginny.
“Perhaps not everyone,” the girl responded pointedly. “I think some people have forgiven the Malfoys very quickly.”
“The Malfoys?” Ginny shot back immediately. “I thought we were talking about Lucius. When did all the Malfoys get wrapped up in this?”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean that,” said Romilda unexpectedly, and Ginny wondered if she was trying to soothe everyone’s ruffled feathers, or if she really was stupid enough to think that Olive hadn’t meant what she’d said. “After all, everyone knows Draco fought on our side.” She smiled beatifically and Colin shot her an appreciative look.
“Yes, but do we really know why?” Olive retorted, ignoring the looks Neville was giving her. She’d obviously been waiting to say this all night and wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of her righteous indignation. “Everyone says he just wanted to keep his house and money.”
“What?” Ginny nearly exploded, then forced herself to calm down. “May I remind you that this is my husband you’re maligning?”
“Well, obviously you need to be set straight,” Olive said superiorly. “A lot of people were very upset when you married him, and there’s been a lot of talk about how he managed to get you into it. You come from a family that many people have looked up to since the war, and to align yourself with a family of Death Eaters-”
“Draco’s not a Death Eater!” Ginny shot back, louder than she’d intended to, and several patrons at the bar looked over in surprise. “He never was, and he never will be, so stop saying that!” Through her rising anger, she vaguely registered the thought that Olive was only saying things she herself had thought two months ago, but suddenly to hear a stranger speak ill of Draco was too much to bear. She paused a moment to collect herself, then said in a calmer voice, “You don’t know him. He’s a wonderful person. He’s thoughtful, and intelligent, and considerate, and loyal, and he wouldn’t hurt anyone. He never even considered becoming a Death Eater. So go back to all those people that you claim keep wasting their time thinking about my marriage, and tell them that Draco’s not his father, and that I am with him now because I care about him.” She stood and gathered her things, suddenly eager to be home at Malfoy Manor. “Colin, Neville, thanks for the invitation. Luna, Romilda, good to see you again.” The two men looked concerned and the two women smiled jovially back at her as she pulled her wand out. Just before Apparating, she leaned over the table toward Olive. “And by the way, he didn’t ‘get me’ into this marriage. I proposed to him. And you can tell that to all your gossiping friends.”
As she Apparated, she reflected with amusement that she’d been using that half-lie a lot lately. And as she looked up the long stairway in the front hall of the Manor, she reflected with surprise on the fact that she’d meant everything else she’d said. Not wanting to dwell on this too long, she hurried upstairs to bed, thinking smilingly to herself that Draco would be home the next day.
. . . . . .
Early Saturday evening, Draco stepped, for what felt like the twentieth time in the last few weeks, from the ferry to the dock. Once off the ship, he set his luggage down for a moment, catching his breath before he tried to Apparate. He was tired- tired of travel, tired of French government officials, and most of all, tired of boats.
Unfortunately, he was not free yet; there was still a good deal to do to follow up their trip, so much so that one of his coworkers, a man called Wilde, was returning to the Manor with him to discuss several matters that hadn’t been resolved. Draco was annoyed at this intrusion on his time, but at least if he took care of things now he would have Sunday all to himself.
He stretched his arms as he and Wilde bid farewell to their co-workers, also trudging onto the docks and disappearing with loud cracks. They all looked as tired as Draco felt, all exhausted from a trying visit. Draco stifled a sigh. There was trouble brewing in France, trouble that could affect all of them, and they’d spent the whole week trying desperately to avoid it. And at the end of the visit, he couldn’t honestly say that they’d really achieved what they set out to do. It was frustrating, and he could see why his compatriots looked so discouraged. They all seemed cheered, though, at going home, because they were going home to their families. And it wasn’t until Draco and Wilde had Apparated to the Manor that Draco realized that for the first time in his professional life, he was doing the same.
The thought made a small smile cross his face as he set down his luggage and stretched his arms. It was comforting, in a way, to see lights twinkling merrily out of the windows of the Manor- especially as “merry” was not a word he often used to describe the house. Of course, besides the time he stayed at 12 Grimmauld Place, he’d never before come home to an empty, dark house, but coming home to a house full of house elves was not nearly as satisfying as coming home to his wife, even if that wife was Ginny Weasley, who only married him for money and to spite her family.
“This is it, eh, Malfoy?” Wilde said, looking Malfoy Manor up and down appreciatively. “This is quite a nice little setup. And a lot of room, just for you.”
“And my wife,” Draco corrected as he walked up the front steps and opened the door.
“Oh, of course,” Wilde said. “That little Weasley girl, right?”
Draco set down his luggage and sighed contentedly. It was so nice to be home where it was warm and familiar, and he smiled as he hung up his cloak and motioned for Wilde to do the same. “Her name’s Ginny,” he said, and saying her name made him suddenly eager to see her. So he crossed the hall to the bottom of the stairs and called her name.
A few moments later she appeared at the top of the stairs, grinning. “Draco, you’re home!” she said as she hurried down the stairs. Her eyes must have fallen on Wilde, then, because she looked surprised for a brief moment. “And you’ve brought a guest!” She hurried down the last few steps and launched herself into Draco’s arms, apparently eager to keep up their charade, even in front of a total stranger. But she did really seem glad to see him, which was fine by Draco, because he was glad to see her.
He hugged her tightly a long moment, then pulled away to introduce Wilde, though he kept one arm around his wife’s waist. He’d found in Switzerland that it was a very comfortable place for his arm to go. After introductions, he explained, “Mr. Wilde and I have some business from France we need to finish tonight.”
“But you just got home!” Ginny responded immediately, sounding quite sincere. Draco hid a smile. She really was a very good actress.
“I know. But I’ll hurry.”
“All right,” Ginny sighed. “There’s dinner waiting for you. And I’m sure there’s enough for Mr. Wilde, too, if he’s hungry.”
“Thank you, darling,” Draco said, and kissed her cheek for good measure. She smiled at him and, after bidding Wilde farewell, disappeared back up the stairs.
It was nearly eleven before Wilde finally left and Draco was finally able to collapse on his bed. He lay there a few moments, staring at the ceiling, then crossed the room and knocked on Ginny’s door. There was no answer. Unsure of whether she was angry with him or just preoccupied, he poked his head in. The room was empty, and from the sounds coming from the bathroom, Draco deduced that she was in the shower. So he sat down on her bed to wait.
A few minutes later the water stopped and Ginny came out the bathroom in her pajamas. “Draco,” she said, surprised. “Welcome to my bed.”
“Thanks,” he said seriously. “You don’t mind me taking it, do you?”
“As long as I get it back eventually,” she laughed. “What are you doing in here?”
Draco shrugged. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you earlier,” he explained.
Ginny seemed surprised by that, but then she smiled, almost shyly. “All right. How was France, then?”
“It was all right,” he replied, watching as she picked her wand up off her dresser and used it to dry her hair. “I mean, France is always beautiful this time of year-”
“Always,” Ginny agreed.
“-so it was nice to be there, but it was still a working trip.”
Ginny placed her wand back on the dresser and came to sit on the floor beside him, leaning against the bed. “That’s too bad,” she said. “But was it a successful working trip? Did you get whatever it was you were worrying about taken care of?”
Rather surprised that she’d picked up on his concern, Draco examined his wife for a moment, wondering if he should tell her. The Department of International Cooperation had protocol, of course, about who could and couldn’t be told about certain events, but he’d never paid attention to it; he’d never had anyone he wanted to tell before. In the end, he decided it was wisest to stay silent and not risk saying something Ginny wasn’t meant to hear. So he simply shrugged. “It was a step in the right direction,” he answered truthfully. “How was your week?”
At that, Ginny laughed. “Well,” she said, smiling, “let me tell you about my evening on Friday.” She went on to tell him about the evening she’d spent with her friends at a London play, and the argument she’d gotten in with Neville Longbottom’s date. As she explained the girl’s harsh words against the Malfoys, Draco frowned a little- would he never escape comparisons with his father?- but that quickly turned to a smile as Ginny told him of her reply.
“You really told her off for me?” he asked, laughing.
“Well, for both of us,” Ginny shrugged. “If you were a Death Eater, that would certainly reflect poorly on me, too.”
“Of course,” Draco said, leaning back against Ginny’s pillows. “Well, I guess I don’t have to be too grateful, then.”
Ginny lightly hit his arm, and Draco pulled a face at her, which quickly turned into a look of surprise as a sudden thought hit him. “I almost forgot, he said, sitting up. “Speaking of Friday nights, keep this coming Friday open.”
“Let me guess,” Ginny said. “Good theater? Or is there such a thing? I’ve forgotten.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you let Colin Creevey pick your play,” Draco said primly. “Honestly, he used to consider Potter-watching great entertainment. You expect him to know good theater?”
“It’s true. He has awful taste,” Ginny agreed solemnly. “I mean, he used to think you were one of the school’s top Quidditch players.”
Draco narrowed his eyes. “Do you want to hear my news or not?”
“Sorry,” she laughed. “Please, tell me, what’s happening next Friday?”
“A ball, thrown by the Ministry, for members of the French ministry.”
“Ooh, a ball,” Ginny said, sitting up straighter. “I haven’t been to a proper ball since the Yule Ball. If that can be considered proper.”
“It can’t,” Draco immediately informed her. “This is going to be quite fancy. You’ll probably need to buy a new dress for it. Elise is going; I bet she’d love to take you shopping.”
“I bet she would,” Ginny laughed. “Is it at the Ministry?”
“No, it’ll be in France. Since it’s for the French, we thought we’d give them the short ride home.”
Ginny leaned back and sighed. “A ball in France, a new gown- being married to you does occasionally have its perks, Draco.”
“Occasionally?” he demanded. “What about the fact that you’re with me every day of your life? That seems like a pretty consistent perk. I would think any girl would love that.”
“And yet you only attract gold diggers,” Ginny said with a sigh.
There was a moment of stunned silence while Draco stared and Ginny’s eyes widened, as though she’d just realized what she said. Draco was the first to respond. “Ginevra Molly Weasley Malfoy!” he exclaimed, shocked. “I can’t believe you just said that!”
“Neither can I,” Ginny said in a small voice. “I’m sorry, Draco, I didn’t mean to-”
She broke off as Draco burst into laughter. “Ginny,” he said, throwing a pillow at her, “it makes me sad that no one knows how truly evil you can be.”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Ginny said wryly, and threw the pillow back at Draco as they both lapsed into silence. Draco supposed he could go to bed, but he didn’t want to just yet. So he turned onto his side to look at Ginny and said, “So, you really think Romilda Vane wants me?”
That immediately became their nightly tradition. Before going to bed each night, Draco would go into Ginny’s room and they would talk- sometimes for only a few minutes, sometimes for much longer than that. Draco was glad to have a chance to talk to Ginny; they had become rather good friends in Switzerland, he thought, but something about returning home had spoiled that for them. Now, though, they had a few minutes to talk together, uninterrupted by house elves or visitors or owls or paperwork.
Those few minutes they had together turned out to be quite a boon, because for the next week Draco found himself compelled to stay at work late for meetings and extra paperwork. The department was eager to have their ball a success, and every employee familiar with France was roped into helping with everything from discerning which members of the French government were mostly likely to be sympathetic to their cause to deciding what should be served at dinner.
When Draco got home late Thursday night, Ginny pounced on him as soon as he’d changed into his pajamas and dragged him to her wardrobe to see the dress she and Elise had bought. Draco didn’t know a lot about dresses, but it seemed similar to dresses he’d seen other women wear, which he assumed was a good sign, so he told Ginny he liked it. As this seemed to please her, he decided it had been a good answer.
“But I’m not sure about the shoes,” Ginny said, pulling out a pair of strappy stilettos. “Are they too tall?”
Draco shrugged. “As long as you can waltz in them, I’d say they’re fine.”
The shoes fell to the floor with a thud. “Waltz? We have to waltz?”
“It’s a ball,” Draco said, feeling as though this should have been obvious. “What did you expect?”
“I expected it would be like the Stewarts’ party,” Ginny rejoined immediately. “We didn’t dance there?”
“Ah, but that was not a ball,” Draco replied. “This will have dinner and dancing and the whole formal affair. You really didn’t know?”
“You didn’t tell me,” Ginny shot back. “Draco, I can’t dance! Not like that, anyway.”
“You went to the Yule Ball.”
“Ten years ago,” Ginny retorted. “I don’t remember that silly dance we did at all.”
Draco opened his mouth to retort, then shut it silently. He was exhausted from a long day at work, and all he wanted to do was fall asleep, but the ball was the next day, and Ginny needed to learn to dance. So he would teach her. “Come on,” he said, walking to the door.
“Where are we going?” Ginny asked, hurrying after him.
“To teach you to dance.”
They went to the top floor of the Manor, to a large corner room that Draco knew was empty. It had always been empty, because Lucius didn’t like the way the ceiling slanted with the roof, but Draco rather liked it. As they walked in, he pulled his wand out to light the lamps, but as his eyes adjusted and he saw how much moonlight was coming in through the skylights- courtesy of a remodel by Draco’s grandmother- he changed his mind and put his wand back.
“Now,” he said, taking Ginny’s hand and leading her to the center of the room, “put that hand on my shoulder and leave that one up here. Stand up straight, feet together. Now, step backward with that foot.” There was a thud as Ginny ran straight into him “Ginny,” Draco asked, “which way is backward?”
“Oh, you mean my backward,” Ginny said sheepishly.
“Yes,” Draco said, stifling a sigh. “Your backward. Now, try again.”
It took some doing, but before long Ginny could do a respectable basic step. “Good!” Draco complimented. “Now, try to keep doing this step over and over.”
Ginny nodded and, eyes down on her feet, began to rehearse the steps. After a moment, he realized that she was softly saying to herself, “One-two-three, one-two three.”
It was the only sound in the room besides their soft footsteps on the floor. Draco smiled to himself as he looked down at her bent head. It reminded him of when he learned to dance, and of the way he and his mother would waltz together in the ballroom after his lessons. She would never reprimand him for looking at his feet, although it made his dancing teacher angry. So he didn’t tell Ginny to look up; he simply looked down at her auburn hair and marveled at how different his two dance partners were. Narcissa was always elegant. He had never seen a hair out of place on her head, and she was always dressed to the nines- she would never have been caught in the t-shirt and purple pajama pants Ginny was wearing, and she never would have left her bedroom with her hair in such a state. And yet in one way they were the same: dancing with them made him feel safe.
“I think I’ve got it,” Ginny said suddenly, her feet still moving carefully across the floor.
“That looks good,” Draco said, and then was silent as Ginny looked up into his eyes and smiled. Her hair was a mess and she wore no makeup, but as she looked at him the moonlight came slanting through the windows and fell across her face, and he caught his breath; it surprised him that he’d never realized that she was beautiful. That threw him a bit; he was not in the habit of finding girls like her attractive, and yet there she stood, innocent and unassuming and lovely. He thought briefly that he ought to tell her, but that seemed strange so he simply said, “You’ll do fine tomorrow.”
“Or today,” she grinned. “What time is it?”
Draco checked his watch. “Time for bed,” he said. “I’m exhausted.”
Ginny linked her arm through his as they walked out of the room. “Thank you for teaching me,” she said.
“Well,” Draco said modestly, “I just didn’t want you to embarrass me in front of all of France.”
“Draco Malfoy,” said Ginny, “you say the sweetest things.”
. . . . . .
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