. . . . . .
Liking is probably the best form of ownership, and ownership is the worst form of liking. - Jose Saramago
. . . . . .
As soon as the clock hit five o'clock on Friday afternoon, Ginny grabbed her things and tore out of St. Mungo's. She made it back to Malfoy Manor and up to her room so fast that she was stepping out of the shower by the time Draco got home. On any other day she might have poked her head into his bedroom to say hello, but today she was on a mission, and the sound of his footsteps in the other room didn't even slow her down as she wrapped herself in a bathrobe and dried her hair. The ferry for France left at a quarter to six, and Ginny had a lot to do- it was her first real ball, and she intended to be perfect.
Her record-time shower had given her plenty of time to fuss with her appearance, which was fortunate, as she needed all the time she could get; hair and makeup were definitely not her strong suit. Luckily, she'd had the foresight to ask Elise how she ought to wear her hair. Her friend had responded with her usual exuberance, examining Ginny and the dress from all angles, trying a dozen different hair charms, and finally settling on a style with an enthusiastic "A ha!" And then she'd spent nearly ten minutes going over the charm with Ginny until she was satisfied Ginny could do it on her hair quickly.
Ginny found doing her makeup significantly more difficult; she'd only ever bothered to learn the most basic of spells for it, and even with those she had only passable ability. When she tried the spell Elise had recommended, she discovered that applying makeup by magic required a careful hand or she ended up looking ridiculous. It took several minutes of careful spell casting before she got her makeup the way she wanted it. Despite all the control the makeup spell took, Ginny still preferred it to applying makeup the Muggle way- it was less expensive, and magical makeup didn't smudge or run when wet.
Once her hair and makeup were finally perfect, she stepped carefully into her dress, and then, while the self-latching buttons closed themselves all up her back, she slipped on her heels and picked up her matching handbag. Then she was done; she even had several minutes to spare. Pleased with herself, she moved to the corner to look in the full-length mirror and see the final result of all her work.
What she saw surprised her into breathless pleasure. Elise had a knack for clothing, and the dress she'd picked for Ginny was beautiful- a full-skirted, cream-colored frock that set off her skin beautifully and made her look graceful and slender. And Ginny had managed to get her hair and makeup to behave; in short, she was as close to perfection as she supposed she could expect.
She was very glad of this; she'd been worried about looking good at the ball since she'd heard about it, and several times in the last week, she'd awoken in the dead of night from dreams in which she found herself at the ball in her pajamas or her work robes or, in one particularly strange dream, a lavender raincoat and matching galoshes.
In the back of her mind she knew it was silly and vain to be so caught up with her appearance, but a lot was riding on it: for one thing, she knew very well that many people at the ball that night would have heard about Draco Malfoy's Weasley wife and would want to meet her. For another, she couldn't help but remember that night when she'd gone to the Stewarts' party with Draco and he'd criticized her hair. She didn't want tonight to go the same way, and she hoped Draco would notice that she'd tried to look good for him.
The last thing she did was slip on her wedding ring, which she'd taken off to shower. Not only did she need it to play the part of Mrs. Malfoy to the hilt, but she'd found that she'd gotten used to it. For the first month of marriage, she'd found the ring a bit cumbersome, and she was constantly forgetting it in different places. Recently, though, she'd become very attached to it-in a large part because it looked so well on her finger. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever owned, if it could really be called owning, and it wasn't until it was back sparkling on her finger that she felt completely ready to go to the ball.
Then, finally convinced she was perfect, she knocked on the door to Draco's room. "I'm ready!" she called. There was no answer, and as she poked her head in she realized he was already finished dressing and was probably waiting for her in the front hall. She was actually rather glad of this, she decided as she hurried down the hall, because it gave her the chance to make a very showy entrance.
So once she reached the stairs she slowed down and walked carefully down toward the front door. Draco was putting something in the closet, so he didn't notice her until she was halfway down the stairs. When he turned Ginny caught her breath, almost forgetting that she was the one trying to impress him, not vice versa. She didn't know when she'd seen anyone look so elegant. His dress robes were like something straight out of a storybook, and his hair was carefully and formally coifed, perfectly framing his calm, handsome face. Telling herself sternly to stop gaping, she descended the rest of the stairs and took his offered arm.
"We should go," is all he said.
Disappointed he hadn't mentioned her appearance, she nodded and let him lead her out the front door.
As she and Draco boarded the ferry that was to take them across the English Channel, Ginny was delighted to see Elise, James, Seamus and Calliope already seated inside. "Somehow this feels familiar," she laughed as she and Draco sat down across from the Stewarts.
"It's good to see you again," Calliope said, and Ginny was glad to see her quiet friend looking so well and happy. Dating Seamus seemed to agree with Calliope, and Seamus seemed just as happy to be with her.
Within a few minutes the ferry was filled with passengers, all formally dressed, and with a rumble from the motor they put out to sea. The six friends talked comfortably all the way across the water, and Ginny was grateful to know that she'd know a few people, at least, at the ball.
It was after seven o' clock when they reached France- "We'll be fashionably late," Draco smiled as he offered Ginny a hand to help her off the ferry- and they all quickly Apparated, Ginny Side Apparating along with Draco because she didn't know the location of their destination. When she and Draco landed, Ginny found herself staring in awe at the building in front of her. Draco had explained to her earlier that the ball was being held in the vacation home of a high-ranking British Ministry official, but he hadn't mentioned that the home in question was a large and magnificent chateau. As she stared at the structure, lit up by magical floodlights, Ginny felt quite certain that it was the most beautiful building she'd ever seen.
Other people were appearing around them. Some were familiar to Ginny and many were not, but they all had one thing in common: they were clearly the cream of society, the highest of the high class. Many of the older women who Apparated in were bedecked in gold and jewels and furs, and many of the younger women, while somewhat less richly dressed, were breathtakingly beautiful. Suddenly feeling very inadequate, Ginny tightly gripped Draco's offered arm and followed him to the front door.
When the footmen- "Those are real footmen?" Ginny whispered in awe- opened the door for the Malfoys, Ginny found herself ushered into a huge ballroom, larger even than the Ministry's and lined with columns, and hung about with gold and silver trappings and tapestries and candelabras. It was more beautiful than even the Hogwarts Great Hall at Christmas, and she had always thought that nothing could be more beautiful than that. Covering the marble floors were throngs of guests, whose finery and jewels and silks seemed to melt together under the candle glow into a cloud of colors and light, flashing gold and silver with every movement. "Draco Malfoy," she breathed as her husband led her into the crowd, "being married to you certainly does have its advantages."
Draco smirked and placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her through the thronging crowd across the ballroom and into the dining room, which was smaller than the ballroom but decorated just as beautifully. The room was filled with five long tables set with rows and rows of golden plates and cutlery. Around them, the other guests seemed to realize that supper was about to begin, and they too began to find their seats.
It wasn't until Ginny saw Ginevra Malfoy hanging above a plate in ornate golden script that she realized the seats were assigned. Looking around quickly, she saw the Stewarts moving to the far side of the dining room and Seamus pulling Calliope's chair out at the next table over. Fighting a grimace, she turned back and sat in the chair Draco had just pulled out for her. She'd thought she'd be able to sit by her friends, but apparently that was not the case. Stifling a sigh, she watched resignedly as her name dissolved into a shower of golden sparkles that drifted down to vanish on her plate.
As Draco took the seat next to Ginny, an older woman across the table from him spoke up in delight. "Draco Malfoy! Is that you? I declare, I haven't seen you since you were a boy."
"Christiana," Draco said with a genuine smile. "How good to see you."
"And this must be your wife," Christiana smiled. She spoke with an English accent, Ginny noticed, but there was a slight French tang to it, as though she'd been in France for some time. "I've been so anxious to meet you, dear. There's so much I want to-" She cut off suddenly. "But where are my manners?"
The man beside her smiled indulgently. "Why don't you make some introductions?" he asked with a strong French accent.
"Of course," she said replied to the man, then smiled at Draco. "This is my husband Jean d'Auber, and there next to your darling wife is Rene and Georgette Delagardie, and I'm sure you've heard of the Vicomte Louis d'Armand. He works in international cooperation, too. This is his wife, Marie." She gestured at a haughty-looking older couple next to Draco. Draco listened with interest and nodded at each person introduced, but Ginny noticed him perk up when Louis d'Armand was introduced. He was clearly someone Draco had been waiting to meet.
Draco didn't say anything the vicomte at that time, however. Instead, he introduced the English wizards sitting nearby: Illtyd and Marjorie Browning, a kind elderly couple, sat next to Jean d'Auber, and next to Christiana sat a younger couple Draco introduced as Matthew and Marietta Meliflua. Ginny glanced at Marietta and was shocked to recognize her as Marietta Edgecombe, who'd ratted out Dumbledore's Army in Ginny's fourth year. Unable to help herself, she quickly examined Marietta's face and found that Hermione's curse seemed to have worn away. She hoped that meant that Marietta wouldn't carry a grudge about it, but all the same, she avoided making eye contact after that.
"And this is my wife, Ginny," Draco finished.
Christiana smiled at Ginny and was about to speak when suddenly a voice boomed out over the crowd. It was Nigel Dippet, head of the Department of International Cooperation and Draco's boss. Ginny had only ever met him once, at the Stewarts' party, but she remembered his booming voice and imposing presence well. He welcomed everyone to the ball and gave a short speech about the importance of maintaining good relations between England and France, then began to repeat himself in French.
Draco took advantage of the long speech to whisper to Ginny about the people at their table: Jean d'Auber was the head of the French ministry's law office, and Rene Delagardie was his personal assistant; Illtyd Browning worked with Draco at the Department of International Cooperation; Matthew Meliflua worked in the Ministry's administration office and was there as part of the group representing the absent Minister of Magic.
"And the vicomte," he said softly, not turning to look at the man in question, "is a rather important figure in diplomatic circles, and he's the president's cousin. So we're trying to get on his good side, all right?"
"All right," Ginny agreed, smiling.
Draco did not smile back. In fact, he seemed quite serious about talking to the vicomte: as soon as Dippet had finished and the first course had appeared, Draco turned and struck up a casual conversation with the d'Armands. Once upon a time Ginny would have assumed Draco was simply trying to increase his own importance, but now she noticed that behind his nonchalant exterior, he seemed rather tense. He was still worrying about something, no matter what he'd claimed, and apparently it was important that he charm M. d'Armand. It was strange, the same way it was strange that the French law enforcement department had been invited but not the English one. Ginny glanced around and wondered exactly why the Ministry had decided to hold this ball.
"I'm so pleased to finally meet you, Lady Malfoy," Christiana said.
Ginny started, her reverie broken, and looked up to see that the d'Aubers and Brownings were looking at her. Her first instinct was to ask that Mme. d'Auber not address her by her title, but then she thought of Draco and the vicomte; perhaps, if Draco meant to impress, their titles could come in handy. So she simply smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well. I noticed you said earlier that you hadn't seen Draco since he was a boy. How do you know him?"
Christiana smiled. "I'm originally from England. In fact, you may know of my brother, Charus Bode; he works for the Ministry. I was a friend of Draco's mother when we were girls. Caught the bouquet at her wedding, actually. But then when Draco was still young I met Jean and moved to France. I've tried to keep tabs on the family, though." Her smile faltered. "I was so devastated when I heard of Narcissa's passing. I wanted to go to the funeral, but of course England was still at war then and there were so many deaths that even Lady Malfoy's didn't make the newspaper here. I didn't hear of it until a month later. Were you able to attend the funeral, dear?"
"Uh, no, I'm afraid I wasn't," Ginny replied, racking her brain to remember when Narcissa had died. Which part of the war was it in? She realized she really didn't know much about her mother-in-law, when it came right down to it. Giving up, she said vaguely, "Draco and I weren't together then, you see, and there was so much going on . . ."
"I understand," Christiana said wisely. "But you're together now and I'm so delighted. I started taking the Daily Prophet after the war ended, you see, and you can just imagine how thrilled I was to open the society pages one morning and see Draco had finally settled down."
"To tell you the truth, we were all surprised," said Illtyd Browning spoke up. "We hadn't thought he was the marrying type."
"Honestly, I hadn't either," Ginny laughed. "It was a surprise to me, too." Her neighbors laughed, and Ginny felt a sudden surge of gratitude that they had turned out to be so kind.
"So tell us," Christiana asked when the laughter had subsided, "how did you and Draco meet? When did you start dating?"
The question caught Ginny off-guard, and she fumbled for a moment, wondering what to say. She'd figured that someone would eventually want the history of their supposed courtship, and she'd intended to tell Draco they needed to come up with a story they could tell people. She'd just never gotten around to it.
She glanced over at Draco, but he was still deep in conversation with the d'Armands. She'd just have to field this one on her own, she decided, telling herself that honesty was always the best policy.
"Well, we went to Hogwarts together," she began, "but we never really knew each other- we were in different years and different houses. I never even had a class with him. We only saw each other in the hallways and at meals." And when he was bullying me and my brothers, she thought suddenly, and had to hide a wry smile as she decided that she probably shouldn't mention that. "And then after school, we both worked for the Order of the Phoenix and ended up spending a lot of time together, but I wasn't interested in him then. But then we met up again when a friend of his needed a healer and ended up with me. And something just . . . clicked." Something like a wizard's oath, she added silently. She decided it was best to leave out the part where they got married a day later.
"How lovely," Christiana said contentedly.
"So fate kept throwing you together," said Jean. "It's like you were meant to be."
"That's an interesting thought," Ginny responded politely, smiling inwardly. She didn't believe in fate.
But it was an interesting thought.
The food was delicious, but Ginny, forced to eat slowly as she tried to remember which fork to use with which dish, didn't get to eat much of it. Still, that wasn't so bad; perhaps her elegant seat partners would take it as a sign of ladylikeness.
Thinking of being ladylike reminded her that she'd wanted to talk to Draco about her title, Lady Malfoy. She wanted to ask him how many people knew about it. But he talked to M. d'Armand all through dinner and the d'Aubers all through dessert, and when their dishes disappeared at the end of the meal he bid everyone a polite farewell and led Ginny away from the table and into conversation with another French official so fast that she didn't have time to say a word to him.
Normally Ginny wasn't particularly interested in the Department of International Cooperation's affairs, but she found herself hoping that the conversation would hint at what was worrying Draco. However, as Draco and the man, M. Lepain, began to talk, Lepain's son, standing nearby, turned and offered Ginny a hand. "The music is beginning," he said. "Mme. Malfoy, might I have the honor of this dance?"
Draco turned to look surprisedly at Ginny and her would-be dance partner, and she thought she saw a flash of something- possessiveness?- flash across his eyes. But it was a perfectly reasonable request, and after that brief moment of indecision he smiled indulgently at Lepain's son. The young man smiled back and led Ginny onto the dance floor.
Her partner- she found out his name was Michel- was a wonderful dancer, and Ginny found herself struggling just to keep up. But he was warm and jovial and when he saw how unused she was to dancing, he kindly instructed her. He was a much better teacher than Draco, and by the time the song ended and Michel escorted her back to her husband, Ginny felt her dancing had improved quite a bit. All the same, she wished that it was Draco who had asked her to dance.
Not long after, Draco bid farewell to the Lepains and led Ginny to another group of politicians. She found herself feeling a little sorry that Draco was paying so little attention to her, especially after she'd made such an effort to look nice for him, but she understood that he was there on business. And besides, she wasn't ignored long; one of the French politicians soon asked her to dance, and when they returned, another begged for the honor. Ginny was more than a little flattered. She only hoped she wouldn't collapse from exhaustion.
After her third dance, she was feeling quite tired, and she could see that Draco was deep in conversation with a pompous-looking man in very formal robes. With a sigh she decided that Draco really wasn't going to have time for her that night. Glancing over at the refreshment table, she saw the Stewarts getting a drink, so she asked her partner to lead her there instead. He obliged, and Ginny soon found herself standing, smiling and out of breath, with her friends.
"Look at you," Elise said, laughing. "Your first ball and already you're so popular."
"And I can't figure out why," Ginny grinned. "I'm such a terrible dancer."
After a moment's light-hearted banter, they were approached by a handsome young man who asked Elise for a dance. She obliged, and James, not to be outdone, turned and offered his hand to Ginny. She followed him onto the dance floor, and as she once again found herself spinning through the glittering crowd, she decided that going to balls was definitely something she could get used to.
. . . . . .
Draco smiled as he watched Ginny twirl by yet again. He had no idea where she got the stamina- she'd been dancing the entire night- but he was glad that she seemed to be enjoying herself. Ministry business was preventing him from paying as much attention to her as he felt she deserved, and he felt quite bad about it. Fortunately, the younger guests at the ball were all lively and ready to dance, and Ginny hadn't been wanting for partners.
In fact, a great many men had wanted to dance with Lady Malfoy, Draco noticed with an inexplicable feeling of annoyance. Of course, he told himself, it was only natural; the men outnumbered the women at the ball, so any woman who seemed inclined to dance was in high demand. And besides, Ginny looked wonderful that night, clad in an elegant dress, her hair swept up fashionably, her usual warm smile sparkling. All in all, his wife was a beautiful woman. It was quite understandable that men wanted to dance with her, Draco decided. He was just mildly put off by it because he hadn't taken anyone to a function like this for a long time, and he'd forgotten what it was like to have other men eyeing his date. Still, he wondered at the stab of irritation he felt when he saw Ginny smiling at her dance partner.
"You make a valid point, Dippet," M. d'Armand said, and Draco started a little and pulled his attention back to the conversation at hand. He, Illtyd Browning and Nigel Dippet were currently deep in conversation with several important French politicians, including Louis d'Armand, who was currently promising, "I will begin an investigation of this matter immediately."
The three Brits in the group nodded calmly, though Draco was sure that his colleagues were as thrilled as he was to hear the vicomte's words. That was what they'd been working for; in fact it was one of the main reasons they'd held the ball. D'Armand did not appear to feel quite as strongly about their warning as they might have wished, but still, it was enough to inspire hope.
After a few more minutes of small talk, the group disbanded. Nigel smiled at his two employees. "I think that went well," he said when Louis was out of earshot.
Draco expressed his agreement and then excused himself. He felt that a weight, one that had been plaguing him for several weeks now, had been lifted off his shoulders, and now that he was done with the Ministry business he'd been so occupied with all night, he could finally go enjoy the evening- or what little remained of it- with his wife.
He searched the crowd, looking for a telltale flash of red hair, when suddenly a voice behind him grabbed his attention. "Draco Malfoy!"
Draco turned to see two men walking toward him. "Marc, Henri," he replied with genuine pleasure. "How have you been?"
"Oh, fine, fine," grinned Marc, while behind him his brother Henri silently nodded. "But what about you? I hear you're married."
"Yes, to some kind of pauper," Henri said blandly.
"Well, she's not Celeste St. Just, but dating supermodels was always more your thing than mine," Draco retorted. "I want you both to meet her, if I can find where she's gotten to."
He turned to look for Ginny and found her being led off the dance floor by Seamus Finnigan. The two were deep in conversation, but when Ginny's eyes met Draco's she smiled warmly. He gestured for her to come join him.
"Ginny, this is an old friend of mine, Marc du Franchard, and his brother Henri. Marc and I met that summer the Ministry sent me to intern in Paris." He'd never told Ginny about that summer. He hoped she'd be clever enough to play along.
"Oh, of course!" Ginny smiled.
Draco smiled back in silent relief. "And Henri, Marc, this is my wife, Ginny."
"I am so pleased to meet the woman who finally captured M. Malfoy's heart," Marc said with a smile, and kissed Ginny's hand.
"Charmed," Henri said shortly. "You must be quite pleased with your sudden rise to wealth."
Ginny blinked in surprise, then smiled warmly at Marc. "It's wonderful to meet you both. Are you from Paris, then?"
"No, Provence," Marc replied. "We have the most beautiful house in the middle of the lavender fields. I was only in Paris that summer to help a cousin of mine open a restaurant."
Draco chuckled. "Do you remember that time we sprung a leak boating on the Seine?"
Marc burst into laughter. "And that Muggle couple was watching us so we couldn't use our wands?"
Draco, chuckling back, could see that the conversation was about to fall into reminiscing, which would leave Ginny and Henri bored. He was about to change the subject when Marc, apparently noticing the same thing, spoke up first. "I'm sure this is boring to both of you. Henri, why don't you ask Ginny to dance?"
Henri looked at Ginny a long moment, then slowly offered his hand to her. Ginny just as slowly took it, and the couple plodded onto the dance floor. Once they were dancing, Marc smiled at Draco. "Do you remember that time with the borscht?"
The two friends talked jovially for a few minutes until Marc glanced at his watch. "Look how late it's getting!" he cried.
"Well, we expected this to go late," Draco shrugged. "The Ministry intends to keep ferries crossing the Channel until three."
"Are you taking a ferry back?"
Draco nodded. "A lot of our wizards are staying the night in France, but I'd rather have a good English breakfast in the morning."
"This is perfect!" Marc cried. "You never got to see our little chateau when you were in Paris. Why don't you and Ginny come stay the night there? I'm sure we could dig up an English breakfast for you."
Compared to the prospect of spending an hour on the ferry that night, Draco reflected, that sounded like a highly desirable alternative. "That sounds great. Just let me ask Ginny when she gets done dancing."
She was done dancing a few moments later, and as the orchestra struck up their next tune Henri offered Ginny his arm with exquisite precision and led her off the floor, him looking rather haughty and her looking upset. Draco frowned a little, wondering why she looked so out of sorts.
"Did you have fun?" smiled Marc, oblivious.
"Mme. Malfoy dances just as I expected her to," Henri said vaguely.
Ginny looked away from him and clenched her jaw. Aware something was wrong but not knowing how to respond, Draco took her arm and looped it through his, then comfortingly patted her hand. "I have good news," he told her. "We don't have to take the ferry home tonight. Marc has invited us to spend the night with him and Henri. I hear their chateau is just beautiful-"
He could feel his wife stiffen beside him. "I don't know if that's going to work," she said carefully. "Remember, we're going to see Elise and James tomorrow."
"You are friends with Elise and James Stewart?" Henri asked with one eyebrow raised. "Clearly they are very tolerant of-" he paused- "diversity."
"Yes, we're old friends," Draco shrugged, and turned to Ginny, who had gone quite tense. "We'd be fine staying the night. Our engagement with the Stewarts isn't until the afternoon."
Her smile was quite obviously forced. "Well, better safe than sorry, I think. Can I talk to you in private for a moment?"
Shrugging at Marc, who smiled in understanding, Draco allowed Ginny to lead him out of earshot of the du Franchards, then jumped in surprise when she turned to him suddenly, her face angry but her eyes brimming with tears. "I am not staying with them," she hissed.
"Why not?" Draco asked, perplexed.
"Why not?" she repeated. "Because I think I've already tolerated enough scorn and derision for one evening."
"Scorn and derision?" Draco asked incredulously. "When?"
Her eyes widened in surprise. "Tell me," she said angrily, "is this deafness of yours something we should get checked out or are you just being willfully ignorant?"
"What are you on about?" Draco demanded.
"Henri!" she said, exasperated, as though it should have been obvious. "Your friend Marc is really nice, Draco, but his brother has done nothing but belittle me since I met him."
"He asked you to dance."
"No, Marc asked him to ask me to dance. And he spent the whole time commenting on how someone in my station in life must find it hard to pretend to belong in the upper class."
"Henri did that?" Draco paused. "Are you sure?"
She gave a disbelieving laugh and looked to be about to respond, then, seeming to change her mind, turned away from him, one hand resting on her forehead. "I need some air. I'll see you later." And she walked away toward the balcony.
Draco returned to the du Franchards, poring over his wife's words. "Sorry," he told his friends as he approached. "Ginny needed some air. It's a bit warm in here and she's not used to so much dancing."
"That's understandable," Henri said with a casual shrug. "After all, I'm sure she didn't get to attend functions of this magnitude when she was younger. Didn't she grow up in some shack in the middle of nowhere?"
"No, actually, she didn't," Draco responded, raising an eyebrow. "She grew up in a house in the country. I've been there and it is small, but she said it was big enough for her family and they were always happy there."
"Which translates into, they couldn't afford anywhere better," Henri responded, smirking at his own poor humor. "Her kind are always saying they're happy with what they have, when really they just can't afford anything else."
With a shock, Draco looked at his friend as though seeing him for the first time. "Her kind?" he demanded, stepping closer to Henri to look him more fully in the face. "Exactly what do you mean by that?"
Henri was obviously taken aback by Draco's response. "You know," he said stumblingly.
"No, I don't know. Tell me."
"Well- I don't know."
"Well then maybe next time you should think twice before you say something stupid." He advanced another step toward the cowed Henri. "Ginny is my wife, and if you claim to be my friend you should treat her better. That is important to me. She is important to me. Is that clear?"
As Henri muttered a yes, Draco turned to Marc. "I don't think we'll be able to spend the night after all, but thank you for the offer." Marc nodded in understanding, and Draco nodded as a take leave.
But before he left he turned to Henri. "And if you're really concerned about class distinctions, you should pay more attention to your manners. A true gentleman always treats a lady with respect." And he turned on his heel and left.
He found Ginny out on the balcony, staring out at the stars, her arms folded against the breeze. When he put his hand on her shoulder and she looked back at him, he could see that she'd been crying. He'd never seen Ginny cry before, and he was surprised at how her tears made him hurt for her. So he put his arms comfortingly around her and she leaned against his chest without resistance, and they clung to each other under the darkened sky.
"I'm sorry," Ginny said after a few moments. "I don't like crying and I usually don't-"
Draco shushed her softly. "Sometimes it's okay to cry." It slipped out of him, and he had to think a moment before he remembered that it was Narcissa who used to say that. It had always made him feel better when he was a young boy, and it made Ginny smile now.
"We're not going to stay with Marc," Draco said a few moments later.
Ginny lifted her head to look Draco in the face, then tried to twist away from his arms. "I'm sorry," she said, chagrined. "I know you wanted to go-"
"It's not your fault," Draco said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiping away her tears. "It's Henri's. And Marc realizes that, so he's not going to be offended at me or you."
"But if you wanted time to visit with him-"
"Then we'll invite him to stay with us some time, without Henri. Now stop worrying about it. I want you to enjoy tonight."
She smiled then, shakily. "I have enjoyed tonight. Thank you."
"Don't thank me- thank the Ministry and a lot of house elves." She laughed while he tucked his handkerchief back in his pocket. "Now, the night is almost over and I still haven't danced with you." He made an elaborate bow and offered his hand. "Mrs. Malfoy, may I have this dance?"
Ginny laughed and took his hand. "It would be an honor, Mr. Malfoy."
Hand in hand they walked to the dance floor while the orchestra played a slow waltz. Almost shyly Ginny put her hand on his shoulder and he put his on her waist, and they twirled across the marble floor. Ginny, no longer forced to keep her eyes on her feet, was smiling at him, and he, enjoying the dance more than he had enjoyed many dances before, smiled back.
The song ended and Draco gave Ginny another elaborate bow, and she, laughing, curtsied back. Then he offered her his arm and led her off the dance floor amidst the throngs of other partygoers who had also sensed that the evening was ending. Ginny, clearly tired, leaned into his side as they walked, and he shifted his arm so he could support her a little.
On the front lawn they paused, looking out over the spacious grounds all lit up with fairy lights, and Draco turned to Ginny. "By the way, you look beautiful tonight."
Ginny smiled shyly in return, and then with the flick of a wand, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy headed for home.
. . . . . .
Liking is probably the best form of ownership, and ownership is the worst form of liking. - Jose Saramago
. . . . . .
As soon as the clock hit five o'clock on Friday afternoon, Ginny grabbed her things and tore out of St. Mungo's. She made it back to Malfoy Manor and up to her room so fast that she was stepping out of the shower by the time Draco got home. On any other day she might have poked her head into his bedroom to say hello, but today she was on a mission, and the sound of his footsteps in the other room didn't even slow her down as she wrapped herself in a bathrobe and dried her hair. The ferry for France left at a quarter to six, and Ginny had a lot to do- it was her first real ball, and she intended to be perfect.
Her record-time shower had given her plenty of time to fuss with her appearance, which was fortunate, as she needed all the time she could get; hair and makeup were definitely not her strong suit. Luckily, she'd had the foresight to ask Elise how she ought to wear her hair. Her friend had responded with her usual exuberance, examining Ginny and the dress from all angles, trying a dozen different hair charms, and finally settling on a style with an enthusiastic "A ha!" And then she'd spent nearly ten minutes going over the charm with Ginny until she was satisfied Ginny could do it on her hair quickly.
Ginny found doing her makeup significantly more difficult; she'd only ever bothered to learn the most basic of spells for it, and even with those she had only passable ability. When she tried the spell Elise had recommended, she discovered that applying makeup by magic required a careful hand or she ended up looking ridiculous. It took several minutes of careful spell casting before she got her makeup the way she wanted it. Despite all the control the makeup spell took, Ginny still preferred it to applying makeup the Muggle way- it was less expensive, and magical makeup didn't smudge or run when wet.
Once her hair and makeup were finally perfect, she stepped carefully into her dress, and then, while the self-latching buttons closed themselves all up her back, she slipped on her heels and picked up her matching handbag. Then she was done; she even had several minutes to spare. Pleased with herself, she moved to the corner to look in the full-length mirror and see the final result of all her work.
What she saw surprised her into breathless pleasure. Elise had a knack for clothing, and the dress she'd picked for Ginny was beautiful- a full-skirted, cream-colored frock that set off her skin beautifully and made her look graceful and slender. And Ginny had managed to get her hair and makeup to behave; in short, she was as close to perfection as she supposed she could expect.
She was very glad of this; she'd been worried about looking good at the ball since she'd heard about it, and several times in the last week, she'd awoken in the dead of night from dreams in which she found herself at the ball in her pajamas or her work robes or, in one particularly strange dream, a lavender raincoat and matching galoshes.
In the back of her mind she knew it was silly and vain to be so caught up with her appearance, but a lot was riding on it: for one thing, she knew very well that many people at the ball that night would have heard about Draco Malfoy's Weasley wife and would want to meet her. For another, she couldn't help but remember that night when she'd gone to the Stewarts' party with Draco and he'd criticized her hair. She didn't want tonight to go the same way, and she hoped Draco would notice that she'd tried to look good for him.
The last thing she did was slip on her wedding ring, which she'd taken off to shower. Not only did she need it to play the part of Mrs. Malfoy to the hilt, but she'd found that she'd gotten used to it. For the first month of marriage, she'd found the ring a bit cumbersome, and she was constantly forgetting it in different places. Recently, though, she'd become very attached to it-in a large part because it looked so well on her finger. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever owned, if it could really be called owning, and it wasn't until it was back sparkling on her finger that she felt completely ready to go to the ball.
Then, finally convinced she was perfect, she knocked on the door to Draco's room. "I'm ready!" she called. There was no answer, and as she poked her head in she realized he was already finished dressing and was probably waiting for her in the front hall. She was actually rather glad of this, she decided as she hurried down the hall, because it gave her the chance to make a very showy entrance.
So once she reached the stairs she slowed down and walked carefully down toward the front door. Draco was putting something in the closet, so he didn't notice her until she was halfway down the stairs. When he turned Ginny caught her breath, almost forgetting that she was the one trying to impress him, not vice versa. She didn't know when she'd seen anyone look so elegant. His dress robes were like something straight out of a storybook, and his hair was carefully and formally coifed, perfectly framing his calm, handsome face. Telling herself sternly to stop gaping, she descended the rest of the stairs and took his offered arm.
"We should go," is all he said.
Disappointed he hadn't mentioned her appearance, she nodded and let him lead her out the front door.
As she and Draco boarded the ferry that was to take them across the English Channel, Ginny was delighted to see Elise, James, Seamus and Calliope already seated inside. "Somehow this feels familiar," she laughed as she and Draco sat down across from the Stewarts.
"It's good to see you again," Calliope said, and Ginny was glad to see her quiet friend looking so well and happy. Dating Seamus seemed to agree with Calliope, and Seamus seemed just as happy to be with her.
Within a few minutes the ferry was filled with passengers, all formally dressed, and with a rumble from the motor they put out to sea. The six friends talked comfortably all the way across the water, and Ginny was grateful to know that she'd know a few people, at least, at the ball.
It was after seven o' clock when they reached France- "We'll be fashionably late," Draco smiled as he offered Ginny a hand to help her off the ferry- and they all quickly Apparated, Ginny Side Apparating along with Draco because she didn't know the location of their destination. When she and Draco landed, Ginny found herself staring in awe at the building in front of her. Draco had explained to her earlier that the ball was being held in the vacation home of a high-ranking British Ministry official, but he hadn't mentioned that the home in question was a large and magnificent chateau. As she stared at the structure, lit up by magical floodlights, Ginny felt quite certain that it was the most beautiful building she'd ever seen.
Other people were appearing around them. Some were familiar to Ginny and many were not, but they all had one thing in common: they were clearly the cream of society, the highest of the high class. Many of the older women who Apparated in were bedecked in gold and jewels and furs, and many of the younger women, while somewhat less richly dressed, were breathtakingly beautiful. Suddenly feeling very inadequate, Ginny tightly gripped Draco's offered arm and followed him to the front door.
When the footmen- "Those are real footmen?" Ginny whispered in awe- opened the door for the Malfoys, Ginny found herself ushered into a huge ballroom, larger even than the Ministry's and lined with columns, and hung about with gold and silver trappings and tapestries and candelabras. It was more beautiful than even the Hogwarts Great Hall at Christmas, and she had always thought that nothing could be more beautiful than that. Covering the marble floors were throngs of guests, whose finery and jewels and silks seemed to melt together under the candle glow into a cloud of colors and light, flashing gold and silver with every movement. "Draco Malfoy," she breathed as her husband led her into the crowd, "being married to you certainly does have its advantages."
Draco smirked and placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her through the thronging crowd across the ballroom and into the dining room, which was smaller than the ballroom but decorated just as beautifully. The room was filled with five long tables set with rows and rows of golden plates and cutlery. Around them, the other guests seemed to realize that supper was about to begin, and they too began to find their seats.
It wasn't until Ginny saw Ginevra Malfoy hanging above a plate in ornate golden script that she realized the seats were assigned. Looking around quickly, she saw the Stewarts moving to the far side of the dining room and Seamus pulling Calliope's chair out at the next table over. Fighting a grimace, she turned back and sat in the chair Draco had just pulled out for her. She'd thought she'd be able to sit by her friends, but apparently that was not the case. Stifling a sigh, she watched resignedly as her name dissolved into a shower of golden sparkles that drifted down to vanish on her plate.
As Draco took the seat next to Ginny, an older woman across the table from him spoke up in delight. "Draco Malfoy! Is that you? I declare, I haven't seen you since you were a boy."
"Christiana," Draco said with a genuine smile. "How good to see you."
"And this must be your wife," Christiana smiled. She spoke with an English accent, Ginny noticed, but there was a slight French tang to it, as though she'd been in France for some time. "I've been so anxious to meet you, dear. There's so much I want to-" She cut off suddenly. "But where are my manners?"
The man beside her smiled indulgently. "Why don't you make some introductions?" he asked with a strong French accent.
"Of course," she said replied to the man, then smiled at Draco. "This is my husband Jean d'Auber, and there next to your darling wife is Rene and Georgette Delagardie, and I'm sure you've heard of the Vicomte Louis d'Armand. He works in international cooperation, too. This is his wife, Marie." She gestured at a haughty-looking older couple next to Draco. Draco listened with interest and nodded at each person introduced, but Ginny noticed him perk up when Louis d'Armand was introduced. He was clearly someone Draco had been waiting to meet.
Draco didn't say anything the vicomte at that time, however. Instead, he introduced the English wizards sitting nearby: Illtyd and Marjorie Browning, a kind elderly couple, sat next to Jean d'Auber, and next to Christiana sat a younger couple Draco introduced as Matthew and Marietta Meliflua. Ginny glanced at Marietta and was shocked to recognize her as Marietta Edgecombe, who'd ratted out Dumbledore's Army in Ginny's fourth year. Unable to help herself, she quickly examined Marietta's face and found that Hermione's curse seemed to have worn away. She hoped that meant that Marietta wouldn't carry a grudge about it, but all the same, she avoided making eye contact after that.
"And this is my wife, Ginny," Draco finished.
Christiana smiled at Ginny and was about to speak when suddenly a voice boomed out over the crowd. It was Nigel Dippet, head of the Department of International Cooperation and Draco's boss. Ginny had only ever met him once, at the Stewarts' party, but she remembered his booming voice and imposing presence well. He welcomed everyone to the ball and gave a short speech about the importance of maintaining good relations between England and France, then began to repeat himself in French.
Draco took advantage of the long speech to whisper to Ginny about the people at their table: Jean d'Auber was the head of the French ministry's law office, and Rene Delagardie was his personal assistant; Illtyd Browning worked with Draco at the Department of International Cooperation; Matthew Meliflua worked in the Ministry's administration office and was there as part of the group representing the absent Minister of Magic.
"And the vicomte," he said softly, not turning to look at the man in question, "is a rather important figure in diplomatic circles, and he's the president's cousin. So we're trying to get on his good side, all right?"
"All right," Ginny agreed, smiling.
Draco did not smile back. In fact, he seemed quite serious about talking to the vicomte: as soon as Dippet had finished and the first course had appeared, Draco turned and struck up a casual conversation with the d'Armands. Once upon a time Ginny would have assumed Draco was simply trying to increase his own importance, but now she noticed that behind his nonchalant exterior, he seemed rather tense. He was still worrying about something, no matter what he'd claimed, and apparently it was important that he charm M. d'Armand. It was strange, the same way it was strange that the French law enforcement department had been invited but not the English one. Ginny glanced around and wondered exactly why the Ministry had decided to hold this ball.
"I'm so pleased to finally meet you, Lady Malfoy," Christiana said.
Ginny started, her reverie broken, and looked up to see that the d'Aubers and Brownings were looking at her. Her first instinct was to ask that Mme. d'Auber not address her by her title, but then she thought of Draco and the vicomte; perhaps, if Draco meant to impress, their titles could come in handy. So she simply smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well. I noticed you said earlier that you hadn't seen Draco since he was a boy. How do you know him?"
Christiana smiled. "I'm originally from England. In fact, you may know of my brother, Charus Bode; he works for the Ministry. I was a friend of Draco's mother when we were girls. Caught the bouquet at her wedding, actually. But then when Draco was still young I met Jean and moved to France. I've tried to keep tabs on the family, though." Her smile faltered. "I was so devastated when I heard of Narcissa's passing. I wanted to go to the funeral, but of course England was still at war then and there were so many deaths that even Lady Malfoy's didn't make the newspaper here. I didn't hear of it until a month later. Were you able to attend the funeral, dear?"
"Uh, no, I'm afraid I wasn't," Ginny replied, racking her brain to remember when Narcissa had died. Which part of the war was it in? She realized she really didn't know much about her mother-in-law, when it came right down to it. Giving up, she said vaguely, "Draco and I weren't together then, you see, and there was so much going on . . ."
"I understand," Christiana said wisely. "But you're together now and I'm so delighted. I started taking the Daily Prophet after the war ended, you see, and you can just imagine how thrilled I was to open the society pages one morning and see Draco had finally settled down."
"To tell you the truth, we were all surprised," said Illtyd Browning spoke up. "We hadn't thought he was the marrying type."
"Honestly, I hadn't either," Ginny laughed. "It was a surprise to me, too." Her neighbors laughed, and Ginny felt a sudden surge of gratitude that they had turned out to be so kind.
"So tell us," Christiana asked when the laughter had subsided, "how did you and Draco meet? When did you start dating?"
The question caught Ginny off-guard, and she fumbled for a moment, wondering what to say. She'd figured that someone would eventually want the history of their supposed courtship, and she'd intended to tell Draco they needed to come up with a story they could tell people. She'd just never gotten around to it.
She glanced over at Draco, but he was still deep in conversation with the d'Armands. She'd just have to field this one on her own, she decided, telling herself that honesty was always the best policy.
"Well, we went to Hogwarts together," she began, "but we never really knew each other- we were in different years and different houses. I never even had a class with him. We only saw each other in the hallways and at meals." And when he was bullying me and my brothers, she thought suddenly, and had to hide a wry smile as she decided that she probably shouldn't mention that. "And then after school, we both worked for the Order of the Phoenix and ended up spending a lot of time together, but I wasn't interested in him then. But then we met up again when a friend of his needed a healer and ended up with me. And something just . . . clicked." Something like a wizard's oath, she added silently. She decided it was best to leave out the part where they got married a day later.
"How lovely," Christiana said contentedly.
"So fate kept throwing you together," said Jean. "It's like you were meant to be."
"That's an interesting thought," Ginny responded politely, smiling inwardly. She didn't believe in fate.
But it was an interesting thought.
The food was delicious, but Ginny, forced to eat slowly as she tried to remember which fork to use with which dish, didn't get to eat much of it. Still, that wasn't so bad; perhaps her elegant seat partners would take it as a sign of ladylikeness.
Thinking of being ladylike reminded her that she'd wanted to talk to Draco about her title, Lady Malfoy. She wanted to ask him how many people knew about it. But he talked to M. d'Armand all through dinner and the d'Aubers all through dessert, and when their dishes disappeared at the end of the meal he bid everyone a polite farewell and led Ginny away from the table and into conversation with another French official so fast that she didn't have time to say a word to him.
Normally Ginny wasn't particularly interested in the Department of International Cooperation's affairs, but she found herself hoping that the conversation would hint at what was worrying Draco. However, as Draco and the man, M. Lepain, began to talk, Lepain's son, standing nearby, turned and offered Ginny a hand. "The music is beginning," he said. "Mme. Malfoy, might I have the honor of this dance?"
Draco turned to look surprisedly at Ginny and her would-be dance partner, and she thought she saw a flash of something- possessiveness?- flash across his eyes. But it was a perfectly reasonable request, and after that brief moment of indecision he smiled indulgently at Lepain's son. The young man smiled back and led Ginny onto the dance floor.
Her partner- she found out his name was Michel- was a wonderful dancer, and Ginny found herself struggling just to keep up. But he was warm and jovial and when he saw how unused she was to dancing, he kindly instructed her. He was a much better teacher than Draco, and by the time the song ended and Michel escorted her back to her husband, Ginny felt her dancing had improved quite a bit. All the same, she wished that it was Draco who had asked her to dance.
Not long after, Draco bid farewell to the Lepains and led Ginny to another group of politicians. She found herself feeling a little sorry that Draco was paying so little attention to her, especially after she'd made such an effort to look nice for him, but she understood that he was there on business. And besides, she wasn't ignored long; one of the French politicians soon asked her to dance, and when they returned, another begged for the honor. Ginny was more than a little flattered. She only hoped she wouldn't collapse from exhaustion.
After her third dance, she was feeling quite tired, and she could see that Draco was deep in conversation with a pompous-looking man in very formal robes. With a sigh she decided that Draco really wasn't going to have time for her that night. Glancing over at the refreshment table, she saw the Stewarts getting a drink, so she asked her partner to lead her there instead. He obliged, and Ginny soon found herself standing, smiling and out of breath, with her friends.
"Look at you," Elise said, laughing. "Your first ball and already you're so popular."
"And I can't figure out why," Ginny grinned. "I'm such a terrible dancer."
After a moment's light-hearted banter, they were approached by a handsome young man who asked Elise for a dance. She obliged, and James, not to be outdone, turned and offered his hand to Ginny. She followed him onto the dance floor, and as she once again found herself spinning through the glittering crowd, she decided that going to balls was definitely something she could get used to.
. . . . . .
Draco smiled as he watched Ginny twirl by yet again. He had no idea where she got the stamina- she'd been dancing the entire night- but he was glad that she seemed to be enjoying herself. Ministry business was preventing him from paying as much attention to her as he felt she deserved, and he felt quite bad about it. Fortunately, the younger guests at the ball were all lively and ready to dance, and Ginny hadn't been wanting for partners.
In fact, a great many men had wanted to dance with Lady Malfoy, Draco noticed with an inexplicable feeling of annoyance. Of course, he told himself, it was only natural; the men outnumbered the women at the ball, so any woman who seemed inclined to dance was in high demand. And besides, Ginny looked wonderful that night, clad in an elegant dress, her hair swept up fashionably, her usual warm smile sparkling. All in all, his wife was a beautiful woman. It was quite understandable that men wanted to dance with her, Draco decided. He was just mildly put off by it because he hadn't taken anyone to a function like this for a long time, and he'd forgotten what it was like to have other men eyeing his date. Still, he wondered at the stab of irritation he felt when he saw Ginny smiling at her dance partner.
"You make a valid point, Dippet," M. d'Armand said, and Draco started a little and pulled his attention back to the conversation at hand. He, Illtyd Browning and Nigel Dippet were currently deep in conversation with several important French politicians, including Louis d'Armand, who was currently promising, "I will begin an investigation of this matter immediately."
The three Brits in the group nodded calmly, though Draco was sure that his colleagues were as thrilled as he was to hear the vicomte's words. That was what they'd been working for; in fact it was one of the main reasons they'd held the ball. D'Armand did not appear to feel quite as strongly about their warning as they might have wished, but still, it was enough to inspire hope.
After a few more minutes of small talk, the group disbanded. Nigel smiled at his two employees. "I think that went well," he said when Louis was out of earshot.
Draco expressed his agreement and then excused himself. He felt that a weight, one that had been plaguing him for several weeks now, had been lifted off his shoulders, and now that he was done with the Ministry business he'd been so occupied with all night, he could finally go enjoy the evening- or what little remained of it- with his wife.
He searched the crowd, looking for a telltale flash of red hair, when suddenly a voice behind him grabbed his attention. "Draco Malfoy!"
Draco turned to see two men walking toward him. "Marc, Henri," he replied with genuine pleasure. "How have you been?"
"Oh, fine, fine," grinned Marc, while behind him his brother Henri silently nodded. "But what about you? I hear you're married."
"Yes, to some kind of pauper," Henri said blandly.
"Well, she's not Celeste St. Just, but dating supermodels was always more your thing than mine," Draco retorted. "I want you both to meet her, if I can find where she's gotten to."
He turned to look for Ginny and found her being led off the dance floor by Seamus Finnigan. The two were deep in conversation, but when Ginny's eyes met Draco's she smiled warmly. He gestured for her to come join him.
"Ginny, this is an old friend of mine, Marc du Franchard, and his brother Henri. Marc and I met that summer the Ministry sent me to intern in Paris." He'd never told Ginny about that summer. He hoped she'd be clever enough to play along.
"Oh, of course!" Ginny smiled.
Draco smiled back in silent relief. "And Henri, Marc, this is my wife, Ginny."
"I am so pleased to meet the woman who finally captured M. Malfoy's heart," Marc said with a smile, and kissed Ginny's hand.
"Charmed," Henri said shortly. "You must be quite pleased with your sudden rise to wealth."
Ginny blinked in surprise, then smiled warmly at Marc. "It's wonderful to meet you both. Are you from Paris, then?"
"No, Provence," Marc replied. "We have the most beautiful house in the middle of the lavender fields. I was only in Paris that summer to help a cousin of mine open a restaurant."
Draco chuckled. "Do you remember that time we sprung a leak boating on the Seine?"
Marc burst into laughter. "And that Muggle couple was watching us so we couldn't use our wands?"
Draco, chuckling back, could see that the conversation was about to fall into reminiscing, which would leave Ginny and Henri bored. He was about to change the subject when Marc, apparently noticing the same thing, spoke up first. "I'm sure this is boring to both of you. Henri, why don't you ask Ginny to dance?"
Henri looked at Ginny a long moment, then slowly offered his hand to her. Ginny just as slowly took it, and the couple plodded onto the dance floor. Once they were dancing, Marc smiled at Draco. "Do you remember that time with the borscht?"
The two friends talked jovially for a few minutes until Marc glanced at his watch. "Look how late it's getting!" he cried.
"Well, we expected this to go late," Draco shrugged. "The Ministry intends to keep ferries crossing the Channel until three."
"Are you taking a ferry back?"
Draco nodded. "A lot of our wizards are staying the night in France, but I'd rather have a good English breakfast in the morning."
"This is perfect!" Marc cried. "You never got to see our little chateau when you were in Paris. Why don't you and Ginny come stay the night there? I'm sure we could dig up an English breakfast for you."
Compared to the prospect of spending an hour on the ferry that night, Draco reflected, that sounded like a highly desirable alternative. "That sounds great. Just let me ask Ginny when she gets done dancing."
She was done dancing a few moments later, and as the orchestra struck up their next tune Henri offered Ginny his arm with exquisite precision and led her off the floor, him looking rather haughty and her looking upset. Draco frowned a little, wondering why she looked so out of sorts.
"Did you have fun?" smiled Marc, oblivious.
"Mme. Malfoy dances just as I expected her to," Henri said vaguely.
Ginny looked away from him and clenched her jaw. Aware something was wrong but not knowing how to respond, Draco took her arm and looped it through his, then comfortingly patted her hand. "I have good news," he told her. "We don't have to take the ferry home tonight. Marc has invited us to spend the night with him and Henri. I hear their chateau is just beautiful-"
He could feel his wife stiffen beside him. "I don't know if that's going to work," she said carefully. "Remember, we're going to see Elise and James tomorrow."
"You are friends with Elise and James Stewart?" Henri asked with one eyebrow raised. "Clearly they are very tolerant of-" he paused- "diversity."
"Yes, we're old friends," Draco shrugged, and turned to Ginny, who had gone quite tense. "We'd be fine staying the night. Our engagement with the Stewarts isn't until the afternoon."
Her smile was quite obviously forced. "Well, better safe than sorry, I think. Can I talk to you in private for a moment?"
Shrugging at Marc, who smiled in understanding, Draco allowed Ginny to lead him out of earshot of the du Franchards, then jumped in surprise when she turned to him suddenly, her face angry but her eyes brimming with tears. "I am not staying with them," she hissed.
"Why not?" Draco asked, perplexed.
"Why not?" she repeated. "Because I think I've already tolerated enough scorn and derision for one evening."
"Scorn and derision?" Draco asked incredulously. "When?"
Her eyes widened in surprise. "Tell me," she said angrily, "is this deafness of yours something we should get checked out or are you just being willfully ignorant?"
"What are you on about?" Draco demanded.
"Henri!" she said, exasperated, as though it should have been obvious. "Your friend Marc is really nice, Draco, but his brother has done nothing but belittle me since I met him."
"He asked you to dance."
"No, Marc asked him to ask me to dance. And he spent the whole time commenting on how someone in my station in life must find it hard to pretend to belong in the upper class."
"Henri did that?" Draco paused. "Are you sure?"
She gave a disbelieving laugh and looked to be about to respond, then, seeming to change her mind, turned away from him, one hand resting on her forehead. "I need some air. I'll see you later." And she walked away toward the balcony.
Draco returned to the du Franchards, poring over his wife's words. "Sorry," he told his friends as he approached. "Ginny needed some air. It's a bit warm in here and she's not used to so much dancing."
"That's understandable," Henri said with a casual shrug. "After all, I'm sure she didn't get to attend functions of this magnitude when she was younger. Didn't she grow up in some shack in the middle of nowhere?"
"No, actually, she didn't," Draco responded, raising an eyebrow. "She grew up in a house in the country. I've been there and it is small, but she said it was big enough for her family and they were always happy there."
"Which translates into, they couldn't afford anywhere better," Henri responded, smirking at his own poor humor. "Her kind are always saying they're happy with what they have, when really they just can't afford anything else."
With a shock, Draco looked at his friend as though seeing him for the first time. "Her kind?" he demanded, stepping closer to Henri to look him more fully in the face. "Exactly what do you mean by that?"
Henri was obviously taken aback by Draco's response. "You know," he said stumblingly.
"No, I don't know. Tell me."
"Well- I don't know."
"Well then maybe next time you should think twice before you say something stupid." He advanced another step toward the cowed Henri. "Ginny is my wife, and if you claim to be my friend you should treat her better. That is important to me. She is important to me. Is that clear?"
As Henri muttered a yes, Draco turned to Marc. "I don't think we'll be able to spend the night after all, but thank you for the offer." Marc nodded in understanding, and Draco nodded as a take leave.
But before he left he turned to Henri. "And if you're really concerned about class distinctions, you should pay more attention to your manners. A true gentleman always treats a lady with respect." And he turned on his heel and left.
He found Ginny out on the balcony, staring out at the stars, her arms folded against the breeze. When he put his hand on her shoulder and she looked back at him, he could see that she'd been crying. He'd never seen Ginny cry before, and he was surprised at how her tears made him hurt for her. So he put his arms comfortingly around her and she leaned against his chest without resistance, and they clung to each other under the darkened sky.
"I'm sorry," Ginny said after a few moments. "I don't like crying and I usually don't-"
Draco shushed her softly. "Sometimes it's okay to cry." It slipped out of him, and he had to think a moment before he remembered that it was Narcissa who used to say that. It had always made him feel better when he was a young boy, and it made Ginny smile now.
"We're not going to stay with Marc," Draco said a few moments later.
Ginny lifted her head to look Draco in the face, then tried to twist away from his arms. "I'm sorry," she said, chagrined. "I know you wanted to go-"
"It's not your fault," Draco said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiping away her tears. "It's Henri's. And Marc realizes that, so he's not going to be offended at me or you."
"But if you wanted time to visit with him-"
"Then we'll invite him to stay with us some time, without Henri. Now stop worrying about it. I want you to enjoy tonight."
She smiled then, shakily. "I have enjoyed tonight. Thank you."
"Don't thank me- thank the Ministry and a lot of house elves." She laughed while he tucked his handkerchief back in his pocket. "Now, the night is almost over and I still haven't danced with you." He made an elaborate bow and offered his hand. "Mrs. Malfoy, may I have this dance?"
Ginny laughed and took his hand. "It would be an honor, Mr. Malfoy."
Hand in hand they walked to the dance floor while the orchestra played a slow waltz. Almost shyly Ginny put her hand on his shoulder and he put his on her waist, and they twirled across the marble floor. Ginny, no longer forced to keep her eyes on her feet, was smiling at him, and he, enjoying the dance more than he had enjoyed many dances before, smiled back.
The song ended and Draco gave Ginny another elaborate bow, and she, laughing, curtsied back. Then he offered her his arm and led her off the dance floor amidst the throngs of other partygoers who had also sensed that the evening was ending. Ginny, clearly tired, leaned into his side as they walked, and he shifted his arm so he could support her a little.
On the front lawn they paused, looking out over the spacious grounds all lit up with fairy lights, and Draco turned to Ginny. "By the way, you look beautiful tonight."
Ginny smiled shyly in return, and then with the flick of a wand, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy headed for home.
. . . . . .
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