. . . . . .
Angry people are not always wise. - Jane Austen
. . . . . .
The man on the couch stared at her outstretched hand in mute shock. Draco, however, didn't miss a beat. His face immediately broke into a smooth smile, and he leaned down and kissed Ginny's cheek. "Ginny, this is Mr. Zabini. I believe you remember his son Blaise from school." He looked back at Zabini, and Ginny followed his gaze to the dark-haired man. Swallowing her rage, she tried to arrange her face to look like a girl vaguely interested in her fiance's friend, rather than an angry Weasley about to rip a man's throat out.
"We were actually just talking about you," Draco continued smoothly, "but I believe Mr. Zabini has nothing more to say on the subject." He shot the man a glare so pointed that Ginny was sure she would have withered up and died had it been aimed at her.
Zabini, however, was unmoved by the glare and seemed to have a lot more to say on the subject. He stood and advanced on her slowly, looking, despite his age and bulging stomach, like a jungle cat about to pounce. "Weasley," he said softly.
Draco interrupted him. "Please have the decency to refer to her Miss Weasley, Mr. Zabini," he said, and Ginny was glad to see that the dangerous-looking wizard in front of her did not frighten her supposed fiance.
"Miss Weasley," Zabini corrected himself, "please tell me you're not serious."
Her anger overcoming any rational warnings in her mind, she stepped forward defiantly. "Why shouldn't I be?" she asked in a tone of deadly calm, and was pleased to see Zabini deflate a bit.
"Because- because you're not a suitable wife for him!" Zabini burst out angrily.
He was still leaning toward her, breathing heavily in his anger, but he stepped back when Draco suddenly advanced on him. "Zabini, we've known each other for a long time, and I'd hate to have to end our acquaintance just because you can't control yourself in front of my fiance. I think it's time for you to leave." The cold firmness in his voice almost startled Ginny, and it seemed to have the same effect on Zabini, who quickly stood and gathered his things.
"Draco," he said almost despairingly as he prepared to leave, "please think about what you're doing- if not for your sake, then for hers. She wouldn't last one minute here!"
Ginny's temper flared up again, and she let her face settle into an expression of bland politeness. "Mr. Zabini," she said calmly, "you do not know me at all, so please do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do."
Draco smiled. "Now, was there anything in particular you came over to say?"
Zabini's face darkened, and he stood quickly, gathering his things as he muttered his business to Draco. "Elise wanted me to come . . . remind you about the party for the Stewarts tonight . . ." He looked up at Draco and Ginny, scowling. "But I'm not sure we want you to come anymore!" he shouted, then stalked out the front door to Apparate, leaving Draco and Ginny alone in the parlor.
Once he heard the cracking noise that meant that Zabini was gone, Draco turned to Ginny, one eyebrow raised. "Are you sure that was a good idea?" he asked.
She fell back into a chair and covered her face with her hands. "No," she said in a muffled voice. "In fact, I'm fairly sure that wasn't a good idea at all."
A smirk appeared on Draco's face. Perhaps this would be easier than expected. As he looked down at Ginny's still form, though, curled miserably up on an armchair with her face still hidden, he felt a stab of pity for the girl who had talked herself into such a mess. Not enough to make him retract the oath- in fact, not very much at all- but enough that he called a house elf to bring in some tea.
When the house elf returned, Ginny accepted a cup of tea with slightly unsteady hands and sipped it slowly. Draco, sipping at his own tea, studied the red-haired girl over the rim of his teacup and pondered his next move.
Fortunately, at that moment, a fantastic opportunity for said next move presented itself in the form of a Floo network call. Draco looked up as the flames turned green, then smiled to see the head that appeared in his fireplace. "Elise," he said warmly as he got up and moved closer.
In the fireplace, the face of a dark-haired woman several years older than Draco smiled back. "Draco," she grinned as she saw him. "It's so good to see you! I haven't seen you since when? The Parkinsons' ruby wedding?" Then she raised an eyebrow. "So, where is she?"
Draco smirked. He might have known that would be her first question. Before he could turn to look for his supposed fiance, however, Ginny appeared next to him, still looking wary. "Yes?" she asked, and Draco was surprised that she had known immediately that the head in the fireplace was looking for her. He covered his surprise, though, and smiled. "Ginny, this is Elise Stewart, formerly Elise Zabini. We've been friends for . . ."
"For at least forever," Elise broke in, smiling.
"At least forever," Draco finished. "And Elise, this is Ginny Weasley."
Elise gasped a little. "So you are a Weasley!" she said, her eyes wide with surprise. But instead of being angry like her father, she broke out into a grin. "Draco, you madman, they're going to massacre you." Before Draco could protest, Zabini's daughter turned back to Ginny and smiled. "I'm so sorry for the way Daddy acted. I'm at my parents' right now, and he was so angry when he got home. He didn't tell me what he said, but I know he's an absolute brute when he's angry. Please don't listen to anything he said."
Draco stole a glance at Ginny, who was staring at the fireplace in surprise. "Uh . . . thank you," she said slowly.
Elise grinned again. "You have no idea how delighted we are to hear that Draco's finally settling down. And you seem like such a nice girl! We were so afraid that he would end up marrying that Parkinson girl, but now he has you, and this is just splendid."
Draco grinned at his old friend. "Thank you, Elise," he said sincerely, the wheels in his head beginning to turn. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ginny open her mouth, probably to tell Elise that she and Draco weren't engaged, so he jumped in before she could speak. "So what are you calling about?"
As he'd hoped, the flurry of words coming out of Elise's mouth covered up anything Ginny had intended to say. "Goodness, I entirely forgot! Draco, you remember James and I are in charge of his parents' wedding anniversary party tonight?" She turned to Ginny. "James is my husband," she explained. "Just wait until you meet him! I think the four of us are going to get on splendidly." She turned back to Draco. "Well, I was just calling to say that we want you to bring your lovely fiance. Have you announced your engagement formally yet? If not, we'd be delighted to have you do so at the party."
"Thanks," Draco said with a smile, the plan he'd been forming finally taking shape in his mind. "That would mean a lot to Ginny and me."
Ginny tried to interrupt then, but Draco kissed her on the cheek again, which, as he'd hoped, surprised her into silence long enough for him to put an arm around her shoulders and say, "So, we'll see you tonight?"
"Fabulous," Elise grinned. "Ginny Weasley, it was absolutely delightful to meet you. I'll be looking for you tonight, all right? Good bye!" With another flash of green flame, Elise Stewart disappeared.
As Ginny pushed his arm off of her, Draco watched the flames dance in the fireplace a moment longer, working out all the details of his brilliant plan. When he was sure of everything, he looked back at Ginny just in time to see her fist flying toward his face. It turned out that she had a mean right hook. As he fell back into an armchair, holding his eye, Draco reasoned that this ability probably came from growing up with six brothers.
"What was that for?" he demanded.
Ginny glared belligerently at him. "Why did you tell that girl that we're engaged and that we're going to announce it at her party? Now your friends are going to think we're really getting married!"
Beginning to get truly annoyed, Draco gave her his most superior look, while gingerly touching his swelling eye. "Because, Weasel," he said in a voice that was tight but still drawling and arrogant, "first, we are engaged, so, second, we will have to announce it at some point. And third, my friends already think I'm engaged. You know how gossip works, right? If I know Zabini, he's already told everyone he knows, and they'll be telling their families. I imagine the entire Slytherin Horde will know by sunset." He touched his eye again and winced.
"You're despicable," Ginny told him. "We are not engaged."
Draco wasn't listening to her. "I think you blackened my eye," he said in disbelief. "I can't believe you hit me. You gave me a black eye."
Ginny was glaring at him, but apparently her conscience got the best of her because she reluctantly pulled out her wand and began examining his eye, glaring all the while. Draco hid a smile. It was time to put his plan into action.
"So, what are you going to do?" he asked her.
"Well," she replied, "I'm going to heal your eye, and then you're going to retract the oath, and then you're going to tell all your friends that we are not engaged, that we were never engaged, and that we never will be engaged."
"But we are engaged."
"Do you want me to heal this eye or not?"
"But we really are engaged."
Ginny actually growled in frustration. "Fine, then. New plan. I'm going to heal this eye, and then I'm going straight to the Ministry of Magic and sending them up here to arrest you and force you to retract the oath. And then you're going to tell all your friends that we aren't engaged, because at that point it will be true. And then you're going to never bother me again."
"If you're so mad at me," Draco asked, "why are you still healing my eye?
"I could just jab it with my wand, if you'd prefer," Ginny said sweetly, then fired a spell at his face. Draco immediately felt the pain in his eye begin to recede, and when he touched it he could tell the swelling had gone down.
Ginny was still standing right in front of him, glaring. With a smirk, he stood and grabbed her arm, slipping it through his and holding it with an iron grasp so she couldn't wriggle away. "Let's talk, Miss Weasley," he said, turning so he could look into her eyes. They were actually very pretty, he thought to himself. Inwardly shaking that bizarre thought out of his mind, he asked, "So, you refuse to come to the party tonight, yes?"
Ginny rolled her pretty eyes. "Obviously."
"Well," Draco said, "we've already established that everyone I know will know that we're engaged. Or at least, engaged according to me," he added quickly as she used her free hand to hit his shoulder. He rubbed his now aching shoulder and continued. "So, how do you think everyone's going to react when you don't show up?" Ginny's brows furrowed, and Draco knew she'd already made the connection he was about to make.
"They'll all think you backed out," he continued.
She frowned at him. "You could tell them that we were never engaged, so there's no real reason that I would have come."
Draco smiled sweetly. "Of course I could," he said. "But do you think I will?
She growled in frustration at him. "Or I could just call the Aurors."
"This is not an offense I can get arrested for. Believe you me, I have spent a lot of time figuring out exactly how much trouble I can get into without going too far. This definitely doesn't qualify as too far. If you go to the Ministry, you'll have to talk to the Department of Law, and as it's after four o'clock, they're already closed."
"Then I'll go to them tomorrow," she said, as though that should have been obvious.
"Yes, but what tonight? What about everyone at the party? When you don't show up, and I offer no satisfactory explanation, they'll think that you couldn't handle it, and Zabini will think that he was right, that you wouldn't last in our society. By the time you get to the Department of Law tomorrow, the most important people in the country will have decided that the Weasley family really has no backbone after all. All the people who dislike your family will decide that they were right all along, and that your family is weak and cowardly. Is that what you want?"
As he'd expected, Ginny was glowering. Turned out the girl was very easy to manipulate- just play off her family pride. She met his gaze fiercely, but then her eyes dropped to the floor. "No," she said softly, and he could sense the anger behind it.
"Then what are you going to do?"
There was a long moment of silence. Finally- "I'm going to come." She looked up at him. "But only so we can tell your friends that we've decided, mutually, to break it off."
"Maybe you'll change your mind about breaking it off," he said smugly. "How long do you think you're going to be able to resist my manly charms?"
She hit him again.
. . . . . .
The first thing Ginny did when she left the Manor and heard the front door close behind her was to pinch her arm, hard. She knew had to be dreaming. It was the only explanation. How else did a poor girl of no consequence go to her childhood bully's house for a medical call, and leave engaged to one of the richest men in Britain? It was impossible. She had to be dreaming. Unfortunately, she felt the pinch quite strongly. Apparently the dream theory wasn't going to work. She Apparated back to St. Mungo's, rubbing the now-sore spot on her arm all the while. On reaching the hospital, she talked to Glennis and got the rest of the day off.
A few minutes later, Ginny was strolling slowly down the street. Although she could have Floo'd or Apparated, she preferred walking because it gave her some time to think. As she walked, her mind ran confusedly through all the possible reasons she'd found herself in such an odd situation: she was insane? Part of a sinister plot by Draco or Snape? An elaborate trick by . . . by who? Who would think of such a thing? Fred and George? They were tricky, but they still had taste and discretion. Even if they'd had the ability to force Draco into this plot, they would never had concocted a scheme that would have been so painful and injurious to her or the rest of the Weasleys.
Speaking of her family, what were they going to say when they found out? They would be furious, all of them. Bill and Charlie wouldn't stay mad long, but with Ron or her father she would have a lot more trouble convincing them not to kill Draco with their bare hands.
And from friends- well, of all her friends, Luna alone would probably be the only one not convinced that the whole affair was going crazy. The rest would be shocked, and it could only cause trouble should they meet up with Draco in the future. Even if she tried to explain it all to them, they'd have trouble understanding.
No, she decided, it would be much better if her family and friends never found out about any of what had happened out in those woods. She would simply claim that checking out the scene of the accident had taken longer than expected, which was why the call had taken so long. Then she would tell anyone who asked that she was going shopping in the evening, when she would actually be at the party. She and Draco would get this whole matter taken care of quietly, and no one would ever find out that she had spent one afternoon engaged to a Malfoy. There would be no fights, no screaming or crying, no fuss at all.
She wished, a little, that there was someone she could tell her
outrageous story to. It would make for a good laugh, and maybe they could back her up if she ended up taking her case to the Ministry of Magic. There was no one, though. Luna wouldn't be angry with her, but she would probably publish a wedding announcement in The Quibbler, which she co-edited, and that would cause no end of problems. Of everyone else she knew, she couldn't think of one person who she could tell without fear of irrational reactions. Even if she explained the circumstances to them, they would be upset with her for finding herself in that particular situation and not being able to handle it effectively. And as much as she was worried about Draco's friends looking down on her, she was more worried about her own friends looking down on her. They would think her stupid for getting so entangled in the situation. No, it was much better that she take care of it without telling anyone.
Now that she thought of it, she hadn't handled that whole meeting particularly effectively at all. From the first moment Draco had gotten it into his head to marry her, he had controlled the situation, called all the shots. She had stood by passively and allowed him to betrothe himself to her. Because if she'd handled the situation at all well, she wouldn't be engaged to Draco, now, would she?
No, she had been entirely too passive throughout the whole affair. In fact, she'd been rather nice about it. She should have killed him for what he did, but she didn't. She didn't even try. She did blacken both his eyes, but both times she soon healed him. Why had she been so decent to someone so indecent?
As she pondered this in the hallway outside her door, looking for her keys, she realized that it was because for some bizarre reason, her subconscious trusted him and pitied him for the way his social group was trying to force him into marrying someone he hated. It was stupid- he'd probably been lying through his teeth and was trying to marry her so he could blackmail her father or Harry- but that small piece of her still trusted him, all the same.
And that, she concluded, was madness. She hated Draco Malfoy. She always had. He'd been so terrible to her and hers during school, and she'd wished for nothing more than for him to disappear for good. Later, when he joined the Order of the Phoenix, she'd believed that perhaps there was more to him than the cruel bully, and that perhaps he'd left his childish ways behind him at school. When she began working with the Order herself, though, she'd come to realize that even if he had turned to the good side, he was still the same terrible person he'd always been.
As she stood in her bedroom, changing out of her work robes, her mind played over all the rude things he'd done while he was in the Order- the teasing, the insults, the unreasonable demands, the times he'd made her act as little more than a servant to him, just to keep him happy and in the Order. And then she remembered, as she invariably did when she thought of him, the day he'd forced her to go with him to Malfoy Manor.
It had been three years after she'd joined, a mere month before Voldemort was defeated. Late one night a group of Death Eaters had attacked the Ministry offices, led by Voldemort's second-in-command, Lucius Malfoy. Draco had disappeared somewhere near the beginning of the battle, so he wasn't there when his father died, killed by two simultaneous curses from Hermione and Ron. The Death Eaters had immediately fled, and the next day, for the first time since the beginning of the war, there was peace in central London.
The Order had decided to allow themselves a cautious celebration, and so spent the next afternoon at the Burrow, playing Quidditch, talking on the porch, eating a large meal from Mrs. Weasley, and simply enjoying themselves for the first time in three years. While there, Bill and Fleur had announced their engagement, and Fred had finally admitted his feelings for Angelina Johnson in what was described by some as the most dramatically humorous event of the Season.
Ginny, however, had not been there. Draco had stopped her in the hall of the Order's headquarters as everyone was leaving for the Burrow, informing her that he had an errand to run and she was going to come with him. She flatly refused, but he, after telling Mrs. Weasley that he and Ginny would not be attending the party, had grabbed Ginny's wrist and Apparated, stealing her wand in the process so that she could not Apparate back.
She had cursed and threatened him, but he, ignoring her threats, had performed a spell that kept her from leaving the house without him. Then he'd stationed her in the front hall, giving her instructions to ring for a house elf if anyone approached the house, and disappeared for the next few hours. To date, she still had no idea what he'd been doing during that time.
When they'd finally returned to the Burrow, the party had wound down and many of the Order members were already leaving. Ginny had hit Draco- it was something of a habit with her- and fled to her room, so she didn't have to see him anymore. Even now, two years later, the memory of it made her furious.
With great effort, Ginny forced herself to stop pacing around the room and glowering. That had been a long time ago, and she would not let the memory of what that slimeball had done upset her. She was better than that. Taking a deep breath, she sat on her bed and forced herself to calm down.
Once she was no longer seeing red, she lay back on her pillow and began running over what she was going to do that night. She had to go to the party, to save face, but once she was there she needed to convince all of Draco's friends that for no reason pertaining to his social status, she and Draco had decided to break it off. A thought popped into her head. Maybe while they were there, she could stage a fight? Make a scene, pull off the ring and throw it into his face? Of course, she didn't have a ring, but she could either transfigure an old one to look like an engagement ring, or force Draco to buy her a real one. That might be nice.
A smile on her face, Ginny lost herself in thoughts of how to break up with Draco.
. . . . . .
At seven o'clock that evening, Draco Malfoy stood in a dark corner of the Leaky Cauldron. He was dressed in semi-formal dress robes- one must always have a sense for the proper level of dress for fancy occasions- and was presently hoping that Ginny had taken his advice and dug up something similarly nice. He also hoped that she had some sense of fashion. Even if he was trying to marry her because she was reprehensible to the Slytherin Horde, he still had good friends who were going to be at the party tonight, and he didn't want his fiance to embarrass him.
Speaking of fiance, where was she? Draco checked his watch. Five minutes after seven. He sighed in disgust. Even if being fashionably late was . . . well, fashionable, punctuality was a virtue worthy of praise. Apparently the Weasel felt differently about it, as she was now officially late.
A thought that had been in the back of his mind all afternoon now came up to bother him again. What if she didn't come? What if she'd just said she would so she could get revenge by standing him up? That would not be a pleasant thing for him. Plans to avoid Pansy aside, this engagement was now a matter of personal pride. He knew that public sentiment wouldn't entirely go the way he'd told Ginny it would. If Ginny didn't come, he couldn't possibly show his face at the party, and if he didn't go to the party, people would soon find out why. Even though most of his peers would be pleased that his engagement to the Weasley girl had fallen through, there would still be a sense in the back of everyone's minds that Draco Malfoy, the rich, powerful and charming lord, hadn't been able to hold onto a girl- and a girl who was a Weasley, no less. It would simply be humiliating. No, she had to come, for his sake.
Besides, he'd spent too much effort on making sure the evening would be perfect. He'd visited Zabini and commented that he hoped the man could be on his best behavior that night, because if anything untoward occurred or was said, Draco's resulting reactions might not be pleasant for Zabini's sense of decorum and social niceties. He'd also contacted Snape and, by simply mentioning a certain messy business deal the man was trying to keep quiet, convinced him not to attend at all. After all that work, Draco would have been quite put out if Ginny hadn't shown up.
He spent several more minutes sending seething thoughts toward her, tardiness and the Weasleys in general before there was a soft popping behind him. He could recognize the sound of her breathing, so he didn't even have to turn around to know it was her.
"You're late," he sneered as she walked up to where he stood. "What, can't you afford to buy a watch?"
She didn't hit him then, but from the look on her face it was a near thing.
"You know, Weasel," he said thoughtfully, "you should stop glaring at me so much. You're actually quite pleasant-looking when your face isn't all scrunched up and red like that."
Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "Charmed, I'm sure," she said drily. "So, we should figure out what we're going to do at the party before we Apparate there."
"I'd rather not talk here- too many listening ears," Draco said. "Besides, nothing that I intend for us to do at the party needs planning. Drink too much wine? Dance scandalously close together in the ballroom? Snog out in the garden? Disgrace your family name?" Draco shrugged. "I prefer letting that kind of thing take its own course. You can't plan a good snog."
It was interesting, Draco thought, the way that vein in her neck throbbed when she was angry. It was not becoming at all. He would definitely have to talk to her about that before the wedding, because a lady of the house of Malfoy should be nothing if not becoming. As he pondered this, Ginny punched his shoulder again, and as he rubbed his now limp and throbbing arm, he thought that perhaps he ought to have his talk with her about her unattractive temper tantrums when she was at least five feet away, and possibly tethered to a tree like a dog. Somehow, though, he didn't think she would like that, either. Some women were just difficult to please.
"Well, Weasley," he said, offering his good arm to her, "shall we go?"
. . . . . .
Angry people are not always wise. - Jane Austen
. . . . . .
The man on the couch stared at her outstretched hand in mute shock. Draco, however, didn't miss a beat. His face immediately broke into a smooth smile, and he leaned down and kissed Ginny's cheek. "Ginny, this is Mr. Zabini. I believe you remember his son Blaise from school." He looked back at Zabini, and Ginny followed his gaze to the dark-haired man. Swallowing her rage, she tried to arrange her face to look like a girl vaguely interested in her fiance's friend, rather than an angry Weasley about to rip a man's throat out.
"We were actually just talking about you," Draco continued smoothly, "but I believe Mr. Zabini has nothing more to say on the subject." He shot the man a glare so pointed that Ginny was sure she would have withered up and died had it been aimed at her.
Zabini, however, was unmoved by the glare and seemed to have a lot more to say on the subject. He stood and advanced on her slowly, looking, despite his age and bulging stomach, like a jungle cat about to pounce. "Weasley," he said softly.
Draco interrupted him. "Please have the decency to refer to her Miss Weasley, Mr. Zabini," he said, and Ginny was glad to see that the dangerous-looking wizard in front of her did not frighten her supposed fiance.
"Miss Weasley," Zabini corrected himself, "please tell me you're not serious."
Her anger overcoming any rational warnings in her mind, she stepped forward defiantly. "Why shouldn't I be?" she asked in a tone of deadly calm, and was pleased to see Zabini deflate a bit.
"Because- because you're not a suitable wife for him!" Zabini burst out angrily.
He was still leaning toward her, breathing heavily in his anger, but he stepped back when Draco suddenly advanced on him. "Zabini, we've known each other for a long time, and I'd hate to have to end our acquaintance just because you can't control yourself in front of my fiance. I think it's time for you to leave." The cold firmness in his voice almost startled Ginny, and it seemed to have the same effect on Zabini, who quickly stood and gathered his things.
"Draco," he said almost despairingly as he prepared to leave, "please think about what you're doing- if not for your sake, then for hers. She wouldn't last one minute here!"
Ginny's temper flared up again, and she let her face settle into an expression of bland politeness. "Mr. Zabini," she said calmly, "you do not know me at all, so please do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do."
Draco smiled. "Now, was there anything in particular you came over to say?"
Zabini's face darkened, and he stood quickly, gathering his things as he muttered his business to Draco. "Elise wanted me to come . . . remind you about the party for the Stewarts tonight . . ." He looked up at Draco and Ginny, scowling. "But I'm not sure we want you to come anymore!" he shouted, then stalked out the front door to Apparate, leaving Draco and Ginny alone in the parlor.
Once he heard the cracking noise that meant that Zabini was gone, Draco turned to Ginny, one eyebrow raised. "Are you sure that was a good idea?" he asked.
She fell back into a chair and covered her face with her hands. "No," she said in a muffled voice. "In fact, I'm fairly sure that wasn't a good idea at all."
A smirk appeared on Draco's face. Perhaps this would be easier than expected. As he looked down at Ginny's still form, though, curled miserably up on an armchair with her face still hidden, he felt a stab of pity for the girl who had talked herself into such a mess. Not enough to make him retract the oath- in fact, not very much at all- but enough that he called a house elf to bring in some tea.
When the house elf returned, Ginny accepted a cup of tea with slightly unsteady hands and sipped it slowly. Draco, sipping at his own tea, studied the red-haired girl over the rim of his teacup and pondered his next move.
Fortunately, at that moment, a fantastic opportunity for said next move presented itself in the form of a Floo network call. Draco looked up as the flames turned green, then smiled to see the head that appeared in his fireplace. "Elise," he said warmly as he got up and moved closer.
In the fireplace, the face of a dark-haired woman several years older than Draco smiled back. "Draco," she grinned as she saw him. "It's so good to see you! I haven't seen you since when? The Parkinsons' ruby wedding?" Then she raised an eyebrow. "So, where is she?"
Draco smirked. He might have known that would be her first question. Before he could turn to look for his supposed fiance, however, Ginny appeared next to him, still looking wary. "Yes?" she asked, and Draco was surprised that she had known immediately that the head in the fireplace was looking for her. He covered his surprise, though, and smiled. "Ginny, this is Elise Stewart, formerly Elise Zabini. We've been friends for . . ."
"For at least forever," Elise broke in, smiling.
"At least forever," Draco finished. "And Elise, this is Ginny Weasley."
Elise gasped a little. "So you are a Weasley!" she said, her eyes wide with surprise. But instead of being angry like her father, she broke out into a grin. "Draco, you madman, they're going to massacre you." Before Draco could protest, Zabini's daughter turned back to Ginny and smiled. "I'm so sorry for the way Daddy acted. I'm at my parents' right now, and he was so angry when he got home. He didn't tell me what he said, but I know he's an absolute brute when he's angry. Please don't listen to anything he said."
Draco stole a glance at Ginny, who was staring at the fireplace in surprise. "Uh . . . thank you," she said slowly.
Elise grinned again. "You have no idea how delighted we are to hear that Draco's finally settling down. And you seem like such a nice girl! We were so afraid that he would end up marrying that Parkinson girl, but now he has you, and this is just splendid."
Draco grinned at his old friend. "Thank you, Elise," he said sincerely, the wheels in his head beginning to turn. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ginny open her mouth, probably to tell Elise that she and Draco weren't engaged, so he jumped in before she could speak. "So what are you calling about?"
As he'd hoped, the flurry of words coming out of Elise's mouth covered up anything Ginny had intended to say. "Goodness, I entirely forgot! Draco, you remember James and I are in charge of his parents' wedding anniversary party tonight?" She turned to Ginny. "James is my husband," she explained. "Just wait until you meet him! I think the four of us are going to get on splendidly." She turned back to Draco. "Well, I was just calling to say that we want you to bring your lovely fiance. Have you announced your engagement formally yet? If not, we'd be delighted to have you do so at the party."
"Thanks," Draco said with a smile, the plan he'd been forming finally taking shape in his mind. "That would mean a lot to Ginny and me."
Ginny tried to interrupt then, but Draco kissed her on the cheek again, which, as he'd hoped, surprised her into silence long enough for him to put an arm around her shoulders and say, "So, we'll see you tonight?"
"Fabulous," Elise grinned. "Ginny Weasley, it was absolutely delightful to meet you. I'll be looking for you tonight, all right? Good bye!" With another flash of green flame, Elise Stewart disappeared.
As Ginny pushed his arm off of her, Draco watched the flames dance in the fireplace a moment longer, working out all the details of his brilliant plan. When he was sure of everything, he looked back at Ginny just in time to see her fist flying toward his face. It turned out that she had a mean right hook. As he fell back into an armchair, holding his eye, Draco reasoned that this ability probably came from growing up with six brothers.
"What was that for?" he demanded.
Ginny glared belligerently at him. "Why did you tell that girl that we're engaged and that we're going to announce it at her party? Now your friends are going to think we're really getting married!"
Beginning to get truly annoyed, Draco gave her his most superior look, while gingerly touching his swelling eye. "Because, Weasel," he said in a voice that was tight but still drawling and arrogant, "first, we are engaged, so, second, we will have to announce it at some point. And third, my friends already think I'm engaged. You know how gossip works, right? If I know Zabini, he's already told everyone he knows, and they'll be telling their families. I imagine the entire Slytherin Horde will know by sunset." He touched his eye again and winced.
"You're despicable," Ginny told him. "We are not engaged."
Draco wasn't listening to her. "I think you blackened my eye," he said in disbelief. "I can't believe you hit me. You gave me a black eye."
Ginny was glaring at him, but apparently her conscience got the best of her because she reluctantly pulled out her wand and began examining his eye, glaring all the while. Draco hid a smile. It was time to put his plan into action.
"So, what are you going to do?" he asked her.
"Well," she replied, "I'm going to heal your eye, and then you're going to retract the oath, and then you're going to tell all your friends that we are not engaged, that we were never engaged, and that we never will be engaged."
"But we are engaged."
"Do you want me to heal this eye or not?"
"But we really are engaged."
Ginny actually growled in frustration. "Fine, then. New plan. I'm going to heal this eye, and then I'm going straight to the Ministry of Magic and sending them up here to arrest you and force you to retract the oath. And then you're going to tell all your friends that we aren't engaged, because at that point it will be true. And then you're going to never bother me again."
"If you're so mad at me," Draco asked, "why are you still healing my eye?
"I could just jab it with my wand, if you'd prefer," Ginny said sweetly, then fired a spell at his face. Draco immediately felt the pain in his eye begin to recede, and when he touched it he could tell the swelling had gone down.
Ginny was still standing right in front of him, glaring. With a smirk, he stood and grabbed her arm, slipping it through his and holding it with an iron grasp so she couldn't wriggle away. "Let's talk, Miss Weasley," he said, turning so he could look into her eyes. They were actually very pretty, he thought to himself. Inwardly shaking that bizarre thought out of his mind, he asked, "So, you refuse to come to the party tonight, yes?"
Ginny rolled her pretty eyes. "Obviously."
"Well," Draco said, "we've already established that everyone I know will know that we're engaged. Or at least, engaged according to me," he added quickly as she used her free hand to hit his shoulder. He rubbed his now aching shoulder and continued. "So, how do you think everyone's going to react when you don't show up?" Ginny's brows furrowed, and Draco knew she'd already made the connection he was about to make.
"They'll all think you backed out," he continued.
She frowned at him. "You could tell them that we were never engaged, so there's no real reason that I would have come."
Draco smiled sweetly. "Of course I could," he said. "But do you think I will?
She growled in frustration at him. "Or I could just call the Aurors."
"This is not an offense I can get arrested for. Believe you me, I have spent a lot of time figuring out exactly how much trouble I can get into without going too far. This definitely doesn't qualify as too far. If you go to the Ministry, you'll have to talk to the Department of Law, and as it's after four o'clock, they're already closed."
"Then I'll go to them tomorrow," she said, as though that should have been obvious.
"Yes, but what tonight? What about everyone at the party? When you don't show up, and I offer no satisfactory explanation, they'll think that you couldn't handle it, and Zabini will think that he was right, that you wouldn't last in our society. By the time you get to the Department of Law tomorrow, the most important people in the country will have decided that the Weasley family really has no backbone after all. All the people who dislike your family will decide that they were right all along, and that your family is weak and cowardly. Is that what you want?"
As he'd expected, Ginny was glowering. Turned out the girl was very easy to manipulate- just play off her family pride. She met his gaze fiercely, but then her eyes dropped to the floor. "No," she said softly, and he could sense the anger behind it.
"Then what are you going to do?"
There was a long moment of silence. Finally- "I'm going to come." She looked up at him. "But only so we can tell your friends that we've decided, mutually, to break it off."
"Maybe you'll change your mind about breaking it off," he said smugly. "How long do you think you're going to be able to resist my manly charms?"
She hit him again.
. . . . . .
The first thing Ginny did when she left the Manor and heard the front door close behind her was to pinch her arm, hard. She knew had to be dreaming. It was the only explanation. How else did a poor girl of no consequence go to her childhood bully's house for a medical call, and leave engaged to one of the richest men in Britain? It was impossible. She had to be dreaming. Unfortunately, she felt the pinch quite strongly. Apparently the dream theory wasn't going to work. She Apparated back to St. Mungo's, rubbing the now-sore spot on her arm all the while. On reaching the hospital, she talked to Glennis and got the rest of the day off.
A few minutes later, Ginny was strolling slowly down the street. Although she could have Floo'd or Apparated, she preferred walking because it gave her some time to think. As she walked, her mind ran confusedly through all the possible reasons she'd found herself in such an odd situation: she was insane? Part of a sinister plot by Draco or Snape? An elaborate trick by . . . by who? Who would think of such a thing? Fred and George? They were tricky, but they still had taste and discretion. Even if they'd had the ability to force Draco into this plot, they would never had concocted a scheme that would have been so painful and injurious to her or the rest of the Weasleys.
Speaking of her family, what were they going to say when they found out? They would be furious, all of them. Bill and Charlie wouldn't stay mad long, but with Ron or her father she would have a lot more trouble convincing them not to kill Draco with their bare hands.
And from friends- well, of all her friends, Luna alone would probably be the only one not convinced that the whole affair was going crazy. The rest would be shocked, and it could only cause trouble should they meet up with Draco in the future. Even if she tried to explain it all to them, they'd have trouble understanding.
No, she decided, it would be much better if her family and friends never found out about any of what had happened out in those woods. She would simply claim that checking out the scene of the accident had taken longer than expected, which was why the call had taken so long. Then she would tell anyone who asked that she was going shopping in the evening, when she would actually be at the party. She and Draco would get this whole matter taken care of quietly, and no one would ever find out that she had spent one afternoon engaged to a Malfoy. There would be no fights, no screaming or crying, no fuss at all.
She wished, a little, that there was someone she could tell her
outrageous story to. It would make for a good laugh, and maybe they could back her up if she ended up taking her case to the Ministry of Magic. There was no one, though. Luna wouldn't be angry with her, but she would probably publish a wedding announcement in The Quibbler, which she co-edited, and that would cause no end of problems. Of everyone else she knew, she couldn't think of one person who she could tell without fear of irrational reactions. Even if she explained the circumstances to them, they would be upset with her for finding herself in that particular situation and not being able to handle it effectively. And as much as she was worried about Draco's friends looking down on her, she was more worried about her own friends looking down on her. They would think her stupid for getting so entangled in the situation. No, it was much better that she take care of it without telling anyone.
Now that she thought of it, she hadn't handled that whole meeting particularly effectively at all. From the first moment Draco had gotten it into his head to marry her, he had controlled the situation, called all the shots. She had stood by passively and allowed him to betrothe himself to her. Because if she'd handled the situation at all well, she wouldn't be engaged to Draco, now, would she?
No, she had been entirely too passive throughout the whole affair. In fact, she'd been rather nice about it. She should have killed him for what he did, but she didn't. She didn't even try. She did blacken both his eyes, but both times she soon healed him. Why had she been so decent to someone so indecent?
As she pondered this in the hallway outside her door, looking for her keys, she realized that it was because for some bizarre reason, her subconscious trusted him and pitied him for the way his social group was trying to force him into marrying someone he hated. It was stupid- he'd probably been lying through his teeth and was trying to marry her so he could blackmail her father or Harry- but that small piece of her still trusted him, all the same.
And that, she concluded, was madness. She hated Draco Malfoy. She always had. He'd been so terrible to her and hers during school, and she'd wished for nothing more than for him to disappear for good. Later, when he joined the Order of the Phoenix, she'd believed that perhaps there was more to him than the cruel bully, and that perhaps he'd left his childish ways behind him at school. When she began working with the Order herself, though, she'd come to realize that even if he had turned to the good side, he was still the same terrible person he'd always been.
As she stood in her bedroom, changing out of her work robes, her mind played over all the rude things he'd done while he was in the Order- the teasing, the insults, the unreasonable demands, the times he'd made her act as little more than a servant to him, just to keep him happy and in the Order. And then she remembered, as she invariably did when she thought of him, the day he'd forced her to go with him to Malfoy Manor.
It had been three years after she'd joined, a mere month before Voldemort was defeated. Late one night a group of Death Eaters had attacked the Ministry offices, led by Voldemort's second-in-command, Lucius Malfoy. Draco had disappeared somewhere near the beginning of the battle, so he wasn't there when his father died, killed by two simultaneous curses from Hermione and Ron. The Death Eaters had immediately fled, and the next day, for the first time since the beginning of the war, there was peace in central London.
The Order had decided to allow themselves a cautious celebration, and so spent the next afternoon at the Burrow, playing Quidditch, talking on the porch, eating a large meal from Mrs. Weasley, and simply enjoying themselves for the first time in three years. While there, Bill and Fleur had announced their engagement, and Fred had finally admitted his feelings for Angelina Johnson in what was described by some as the most dramatically humorous event of the Season.
Ginny, however, had not been there. Draco had stopped her in the hall of the Order's headquarters as everyone was leaving for the Burrow, informing her that he had an errand to run and she was going to come with him. She flatly refused, but he, after telling Mrs. Weasley that he and Ginny would not be attending the party, had grabbed Ginny's wrist and Apparated, stealing her wand in the process so that she could not Apparate back.
She had cursed and threatened him, but he, ignoring her threats, had performed a spell that kept her from leaving the house without him. Then he'd stationed her in the front hall, giving her instructions to ring for a house elf if anyone approached the house, and disappeared for the next few hours. To date, she still had no idea what he'd been doing during that time.
When they'd finally returned to the Burrow, the party had wound down and many of the Order members were already leaving. Ginny had hit Draco- it was something of a habit with her- and fled to her room, so she didn't have to see him anymore. Even now, two years later, the memory of it made her furious.
With great effort, Ginny forced herself to stop pacing around the room and glowering. That had been a long time ago, and she would not let the memory of what that slimeball had done upset her. She was better than that. Taking a deep breath, she sat on her bed and forced herself to calm down.
Once she was no longer seeing red, she lay back on her pillow and began running over what she was going to do that night. She had to go to the party, to save face, but once she was there she needed to convince all of Draco's friends that for no reason pertaining to his social status, she and Draco had decided to break it off. A thought popped into her head. Maybe while they were there, she could stage a fight? Make a scene, pull off the ring and throw it into his face? Of course, she didn't have a ring, but she could either transfigure an old one to look like an engagement ring, or force Draco to buy her a real one. That might be nice.
A smile on her face, Ginny lost herself in thoughts of how to break up with Draco.
. . . . . .
At seven o'clock that evening, Draco Malfoy stood in a dark corner of the Leaky Cauldron. He was dressed in semi-formal dress robes- one must always have a sense for the proper level of dress for fancy occasions- and was presently hoping that Ginny had taken his advice and dug up something similarly nice. He also hoped that she had some sense of fashion. Even if he was trying to marry her because she was reprehensible to the Slytherin Horde, he still had good friends who were going to be at the party tonight, and he didn't want his fiance to embarrass him.
Speaking of fiance, where was she? Draco checked his watch. Five minutes after seven. He sighed in disgust. Even if being fashionably late was . . . well, fashionable, punctuality was a virtue worthy of praise. Apparently the Weasel felt differently about it, as she was now officially late.
A thought that had been in the back of his mind all afternoon now came up to bother him again. What if she didn't come? What if she'd just said she would so she could get revenge by standing him up? That would not be a pleasant thing for him. Plans to avoid Pansy aside, this engagement was now a matter of personal pride. He knew that public sentiment wouldn't entirely go the way he'd told Ginny it would. If Ginny didn't come, he couldn't possibly show his face at the party, and if he didn't go to the party, people would soon find out why. Even though most of his peers would be pleased that his engagement to the Weasley girl had fallen through, there would still be a sense in the back of everyone's minds that Draco Malfoy, the rich, powerful and charming lord, hadn't been able to hold onto a girl- and a girl who was a Weasley, no less. It would simply be humiliating. No, she had to come, for his sake.
Besides, he'd spent too much effort on making sure the evening would be perfect. He'd visited Zabini and commented that he hoped the man could be on his best behavior that night, because if anything untoward occurred or was said, Draco's resulting reactions might not be pleasant for Zabini's sense of decorum and social niceties. He'd also contacted Snape and, by simply mentioning a certain messy business deal the man was trying to keep quiet, convinced him not to attend at all. After all that work, Draco would have been quite put out if Ginny hadn't shown up.
He spent several more minutes sending seething thoughts toward her, tardiness and the Weasleys in general before there was a soft popping behind him. He could recognize the sound of her breathing, so he didn't even have to turn around to know it was her.
"You're late," he sneered as she walked up to where he stood. "What, can't you afford to buy a watch?"
She didn't hit him then, but from the look on her face it was a near thing.
"You know, Weasel," he said thoughtfully, "you should stop glaring at me so much. You're actually quite pleasant-looking when your face isn't all scrunched up and red like that."
Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "Charmed, I'm sure," she said drily. "So, we should figure out what we're going to do at the party before we Apparate there."
"I'd rather not talk here- too many listening ears," Draco said. "Besides, nothing that I intend for us to do at the party needs planning. Drink too much wine? Dance scandalously close together in the ballroom? Snog out in the garden? Disgrace your family name?" Draco shrugged. "I prefer letting that kind of thing take its own course. You can't plan a good snog."
It was interesting, Draco thought, the way that vein in her neck throbbed when she was angry. It was not becoming at all. He would definitely have to talk to her about that before the wedding, because a lady of the house of Malfoy should be nothing if not becoming. As he pondered this, Ginny punched his shoulder again, and as he rubbed his now limp and throbbing arm, he thought that perhaps he ought to have his talk with her about her unattractive temper tantrums when she was at least five feet away, and possibly tethered to a tree like a dog. Somehow, though, he didn't think she would like that, either. Some women were just difficult to please.
"Well, Weasley," he said, offering his good arm to her, "shall we go?"
. . . . . .
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