. . . . . .
Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. - Jane Austen
. . . . . .
It had been a very odd few days, Draco reflected at breakfast the next morning. Just two mornings earlier, he had been a dashing, carefree bachelor. Now, forty-eight hours and one wedding later, he was a married man, sitting down for his first meal with his new wife. She was presently at the other end of the table, waiting in silence for breakfast to be served.
He thought it odd that a married couple should sit at either end of a table, but that was how his own parents had sat every day of their married lives, so he assumed that was the way it was done. And she hadn't complained about the setup. But then, maybe she just didn't want to sit near him. That was possible, considering their history together.
The meal passed in silence, neither party sure of how to make conversation. Draco found himself wondering if that was the way their entire marriage was going to go. He assured himself, however, that at some point the awkwardness would pass, and his house would stop feeling like a tomb. It was ridiculous, he knew, to feel so ill at ease. A man's home was his castle- literally, in his case- and he refused to feel like a stranger in it. It would pass. It was simply the strangeness of their situation.
And strange it indeed had been. They'd been married the night before at Gretna Green by an old business acquaintance of the Malfoy family, who'd been willing to perform the ceremony with a minimum of questions or bother. Ginny was wearing blue robes she'd chosen out of Mrs. Malfoy's closet. Draco had initially preferred a white dress they'd found, until Ginny had tried it on. Although she'd looked quite nice in it, seeing her in white had suddenly made him very uncomfortable, so he'd encouraged her to wear the blue one instead.
It was two-thirty by the time they got back to Malfoy Manor, and both were exhausted from their late night. Ginny had thought to bring some things from home, so she slept that night in the guest room on the second floor after bidding him a half-hearted good night. Draco felt somewhat disappointed by this. He hadn't expected anything to happen- she had made it quite clear that their relationship would not be physical- but still, a late-night wedding and an emotionless good night seemed not to be enough. He wasn't a hopeless romantic like Ginny, with her high fantastical hopes for the perfect marriage, but he still felt somewhat cheated. She could at least have told him to sleep well as though she meant it.
The morning had dawned too bright and too early, and Draco had awoken feeling like he hadn't slept at all. He'd dressed quickly and sharply, the way he always did; even though he was usually alone at the Manor, he never left his room in any state of undress. As he was fixing his hair in the spacious master bedroom suite's bathroom, he suddenly had wondered if Ginny had brought anything to wear. Should he ask her? Should he offer her something else out of his mother's closet?
When he got down to breakfast, though, she was already dressed, and so had obviously brought clothes. They exchanged curt greetings. The questions he'd been going to ask died on his tongue, and after that neither one spoke.
Draco had already owled work to say he would not be coming in that day; he never skipped work, but he figured that he was entitled on the day after he was married. As the elves cleared the dishes away, he finally spoke to Ginny. "I was thinking," he said carefully, "that perhaps you could take today off work, to stay home and get things settled here." The words felt funny in his mouth. Stay home. Her home. His home. Their home.
From the look on her face, he guessed that similar thoughts were passing through her mind, but she simply gave him what was probably her attempt at a natural smile and replied, "I already did."
He returned the tight smile and stood from his chair. "Well," he asked, "shall we go get you moved out of your apartment?"
Ginny's apartment- Ginny's old apartment- sat on a small side street situated near both the Ministry of Magic and St. Mungo's. The location was great, but the building itself was a dark, dingy place, which Draco was fairly sure was kept standing with magic. He had plenty of time to study the interior of the bottom floor while Ginny talked to the manager about ending her contract. The place was definitely no where that a Malfoy would ever deign to live. Although, he told himself, apparently one had- but then, she had only married into the family.
As Ginny unlocked the door to her apartment, Draco smiled weakly at her. "It's nice," he said, looking around at the scuffed floors and cheap wood paneling.
"Are you kidding?" Ginny retorted immediately, using a normal tone for the first time that day. "This place is a hole!"
After that conversation flowed much easier. Draco and Ginny spent the entire morning packing up the contents- the pitifully few contents, in Draco's opinion- of her apartment. With their magic, it shouldn't have taken that long, but Ginny had to stop every few minutes and exclaim over some knickknack or photograph she found. Hating to be kept out of the loop, Draco would ask her what was going on every time this happened, and she would explain it to him, usually breaking into a long story during which they would both sit on trunks to talk.
He found out a lot about her this way: that she liked roses and living in the country, that she loved growing up in a big family and wanted at least as many children as her parents had, that she feared nothing in the world except being betrayed by those she loved, the way Tom Riddle's diary had used and betrayed her. When she spoke of this she became very quiet, and Draco, watching her closely, saw her frown as though in pain.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I just realized," she said, "I'd hate to be hurt by those I love, but I'm hurting everyone I know by doing- this." She gestured at the boxes and trunks strewn around her.
Draco found he almost felt bad about that- almost- but he brushed it aside with the ease of long years of ignoring his conscience. "Well," he said nonchalantly, "perhaps you should have thought of that before we went to Gretna Green." She shot him a dirty look, which he brushed off. "Come on," he said, reaching out a hand to help her up. "It's nearly one. Let's get lunch."
They ate in Diagon Alley at a little cafe Draco had never been into, though he'd often passed it. It was run by a wizard and his Muggle wife, who'd been a chef in London before unwittingly marrying into the wizarding world. Draco's parents had naturally never let him go there, and he didn't want to now. Ginny really liked the place, though, and as she still seemed upset, he decided not to argue. The clientele was not the kind of people he normally associated with, but he had to admit, the food was not bad.
Ginny still seemed upset, probably about her earlier realization. Draco watched her half-heartedly eat her chips for a few minutes, his discomfort growing by the moment. He hoped desperately that she wouldn't break down in tears and cause an embarrassing scene here in public. Trying to distract her from reaching that point, he spoke up. "You know we're going to have to tell people at some point," he pointed out.
"I know," she said glumly.
He ate in silence another few minutes. Then: "Should we put an announcement in the paper or something? I mean, the society pages will do their little complimentary announcement, but maybe we should pay for a bigger, fancier one. You know, make it look like this is the happiest moment of our lives."
She shrugged, her eyes still fixed on her plate. "No one in my family ever had a paid announcement in the Prophet."
"That settles it, then," he said. "If your family never did it, then we most certainly will."
She shot a glare at him across the table, then sighed and looked out the window. "I'll have to tell my family in person, though."
He nodded, stirring his soup uncomfortably and hoping his next question wouldn't set her off. "Are you thinking of going today?"
She shook her head. "I want to get used to it myself," she said. "I'll probably go tomorrow night."
He hesitated, then: "Are you going to make me come with you?"
She bit her lip. "Well . . ." She trailed off, looking pensive, then suddenly started, sitting up straight and assuming a more nonchalant attitude. "I guess it doesn't matter," she said with what sounded to him like a forced tone. "I mean, it's not that big a to-do, right?"
Wondering what triggered the sudden change, but glad not to be dealing with a moody woman anymore, Draco sat back and sipped his drink. "No," he said, feeling much more comfortable now that Ginny didn't look like she was about to cry, "it's not that big a to-do at all."
Ginny nodded in satisfaction. "Because it's just marriage," she replied.
Draco frowned a little at these words. This, coming from Ginny? "Right," he said matter-of-factly, all the while feeling vaguely disappointed in her, of all people, for saying such a thing. "It's just marriage."
. . . . . .
After finishing lunch, they returned to her apartment and moved everything to the Manor. Ginny had expected she would be staying in the guest room where she'd spent the previous night, but when they arrived back at the house, Draco ordered the house elves to move it to something he called the yellow room. "What's that?" Ginny asked as they followed the house elves and the floating trunks up to the fourth floor.
"I've been thinking about sleeping arrangements," Draco replied, "and I think this might be best. You don't want people to know this whole marriage is a joke, right?" She nodded. "All right," he said. "The house elves wouldn't tell anyone, but in case we ever have guests or anything, I thought it would be best if it at least looked like we shared a room, or could, you know, stand each other. There's a nursery right off the master bedroom suite, so I had the elves move all the furniture from the guest room in there. That way, if they question ever came up, it would look like you and I entered the same room at night."
Ginny shrugged. "I guess that makes sense," she said. "Is there another door?"
"There are two," he replied, "one to the master bedroom suite and one to the hallway. So you don't have to deal with me if you don't want to."
"That is excellent news," Ginny said. She was feeling much better than she had at her apartment. Now that she had actually moved out, she felt more calm. She could make this work.
They reached a stretch of hallway with two doors in it: one a set of double doors with elaborate molding, the other a simple single door. The elves were moving her trunks through the smaller door. Ginny followed them in to find herself in a charming room done all in yellow and white. She recognized the furniture as being from the room she'd slept in last night. Two elves were transfiguring the dark woods and blue fabrics to match the colors of the room.
She walked around for a few moments in amazement. "This was a nursery?" she asked Draco in disbelief. Apparently the Malfoys treated babies well. The room was as large as her entire apartment, and the carpet and wallpaper was far nicer than anything from even St. Mungo's administrative offices, which she'd always considered to be especially nice.
"This was my nursery," Draco replied. "I slept in here until I was six."
"Really?" Ginny replied. "You'd think with all the bright colors in here, you would have turned out a happier child." She laughed at her own joke, then looked up at the high ceilings. "This room is incredible," she said. "Does it ever bother you that you have so much room to yourself? I mean, my whole family could sleep in here. Seriously. In some countries, several villages could live comfortably in a house this size. Don't you ever feel guilty that it's just you?"
Draco, with a tone of feigned concern, pretended to ponder. "Wow, let me think about the socio-economic implications of that. Hmm . . . No, I never feel guilty. Sorry."
He turned and motioned to a door in the wall. "That leads to my room. Please knock if you're going to come in."
Before he could continue, she went to the door and peeked through it. "Are you serious?" came her voice. "People actually have bedrooms this size?"
He took her arm and pulled her back into her room. "And that door back there is the bathroom."
Ginny turned and stared at him. "No. Your nursery has its own bathroom?"
Draco shook his head and walked to the door that led to his room. "I'm leaving before you say anything else stupid. Get unpacked. I'm going to change out of my dirty clothes." He motioned to his dusty clothing, then added, "I hope you're not going to let your things get as dusty here as you did at your apartment."
Before Ginny could object, he was through the door. Just before it shut, he called at her, "Supper's at six. Please try not to be late."
As he shut the door, Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, but he didn't see. "You know what?" she commented to the house elf who'd been assigned to help her unpack. "I think this place drives people crazy."
Supper wasn't nearly as somber as breakfast had been, but Ginny could tell it was going to be some time before they were completely comfortable with each other. But that was okay, she told herself. They didn't have to like each other. This was a marriage of convenience. It wasn't the happiest thought in the world, but she was becoming accustomed to it. She wasn't as concerned about it as she used to be. There, you see? she told herself. I am not a prude. She was still concerned about how she was going to explain everything to her family, but she had come to terms with things, and was feeling quite proud of herself for proving that she wasn't going to be an old stick in the mud.
After dinner, she finished unpacking, then showered to clean herself of the grime of moving. Draco had been right, much as she hated to admit it- her possessions were a bit dusty with neglect. Oh, well, she told herself. Having house elves ought to take care of that.
Which was as strange thought, in and of itself. Of course she'd had house elves at Hogwarts, but there were so many students there that it wasn't like having personal servants. One rarely saw the elves at Hogwarts. Here at the Manor, she would see them face to face, all the time, and have to give them orders and tell them what to do. She wasn't sure she knew how to do that. Her mother had always ingrained into her children the need to keep things tidy and clean up after yourself. The lesson hadn't taken much among the boys, but Ginny had learned it. She didn't always follow it, of course, as her apartment was evidence of, but she had learned it.
Having house elves might be bad, actually. What if, in the next year and a half, she got so used to having them there, she got out of the habit of cleaning, and when she left couldn't take care of herself? That was a scary thought. So was thinking about what she actually would do when she left Draco. The thought of life as a divorcee, albeit a rich one, was a scary thought. So was the thought of her, Ginny Weasley, ever actually leaving a husband. Now that she thought of it, this whole affair was frightening. What was she doing there? What was she thinking?
Ginny shook her head. This train of thought wasn't taking her anywhere useful. She forced herself to think of other things as she dried her hair and changed into pajamas. Then, still plagued by doubts, she crossed the room and knocked on Draco's door. It was only nine, so she was sure he wasn't in bed yet. She wanted to talk to him- about what, she didn't know. She just knew that talking to another person would be the best way to get herself out of her present dark mood. He didn't answer, so she opened the door and peeked in. The huge suite- at least the parts of it she could see- were empty. So, pulling on a robe over her pajamas, she went downstairs to find him.
It took asking a house elf, but she finally found him in the den, a cozy room, small compared to other rooms in the house, with large, comfortable chairs and couches, and decorated with furs and antlers and animal heads. Ginny found the dead animals a little off-putting, but fortunately Draco had the lamps off so the room was only lit by the fire in the huge stone fireplace.
"What?" he bluntly asked without turning around, as she lingered in the doorway. "Can I help you with something?"
Ginny scowled a little. "Do I have to have a reason to come in?" she asked, annoyed. "We're married now. We live together. Can I just come in and sit in the same room as you?"
It was not until he moved in response to her question that she finally could see where he was- sprawled out on a sofa in front of the fire, his head just visible in silhouette as he looked back at her over the top of the sofa. "I guess," he said, sounding disdainful and a little confused. "If you really must."
"Thank you," she replied. "I must." She moved carefully into the room, trying not to bump into any furniture as she moved around in the dark.
"Do you need a light?" Draco asked disparagingly. "I'd really hate for you to break any of this furniture. Everything in here is a priceless antique."
"Hey, Draco," Ginny said, "a group of Chudley Cannons fans and a Puddlemere United fan walk into a restaurant, and the Puddlemere fan says, 'I'll have the pot roast,' and the waiter says, 'Vegetables?' and the Puddlemere fan says, 'They'll have the same as me.'"
There was a long pause, during which Ginny moved the rest of the way to a tall-backed arm chair near the fire. Finally: "What?"
"You seemed to be a bit cranky," she explained. "I thought a little Chudley Cannons humor might cheer you up."
There was another long silence, and Ginny turned to look at Draco, who was staring at her in disbelief. Then she heard a sound she didn't expect: he was laughing. She'd made Draco Malfoy, ice prince and rich prig, laugh. "You're a strange girl, Ginny Weasley," he said, chuckling. Then his laughter died down. "Ginny Malfoy, I guess," he amended.
"Yeah," Ginny replied. "Ginny Malfoy."
There was a pause while Draco shifted on the sofa. "So you're not in tears about this anymore. That's an improvement."
"I never cried!" Ginny said indignantly.
"Well, you were close," Draco said off-handedly. "I'm glad you've stopped. I thought you were going to embarrass me in public."
"Oh, shut up," she replied. "Anyway, I've been thinking about it, and our situation is not that weird. It's kind of like me having a guy roommate, only when we're in public we have to pretend we're in love with each other." She shrugged. "People have stranger living conditions than this."
"If you know people with stranger living conditions than this," Draco commented, "you have bizarre friends."
"It's possible," Ginny agreed, and the pair lapsed into silence. It was a much more amiable silence now, though, and Ginny smiled to herself as she settled comfortably into the armchair. After a few minutes of staring into the fire, she spoke up again. "This is a beautiful house, Draco. I mean, it's not like the Stewarts', but it has its own sort of charm."
"Thank you," he replied a few moments later, his voice coming phantom-like out of the darkness. "I guess it's good you like it. I mean- I guess it's your home now."
"That's strange," she said thoughtfully. "Does it feel utterly bizarre to you, to have me call this home? I mean, I've never had a real house I could call home, in an . . . well, not in an ownership sense, really, but, you know, one where I'm not just a kid living there. Does that make any sense?"
Draco made a noncommital sound. "I guess so."
Ginny pressed on. "And not only that, but I'm sharing this home, in a semi-ownership sense, with . . . a partner. With my husband. Doesn't that terrify you? I was trying to think of you as my husband today, and I just can't do it. It's too strange."
"The world is a crazy place," he replied in a tone that, to the untrained ear, would sound bored. She was beginning to understand his moods, though, and she recognized his tone- somewhat interested but unwilling to admit it. If she had to guess, she'd say he'd been having the same thoughts all along. He just refused to acknowledge it to her.
So she pressed on. "And Ginny Malfoy. Ginevra Malfoy. That's strange. That's how I'm going to have to introduce myself. 'Hello, my name is Ginevra Malfoy, but you can call me Ginny. That's my husband over there, scowling at passersby. Why yes, yes, he is the infamous Draco Malfoy. What's that you say? Oh, no, I can personally assure you he does not sleep in a coffin. How do I know? Well, we are married, so of course I sleep in his nursery.'"
"Are you done yet?" he asked, and there was a catch of laughter in his voice.
"Someday, darling, you'll realize I'm never done."
Draco didn't respond, but he did throw a pillow at her. She caught it and laughed, then lapsed into silence, feeling much better than she had earlier. Perhaps her situation was bizarre, but at least she and Draco could stand to be in the same room. That was more than some marriages had, she supposed.
As the fire continued to burn and the pair sat in silence, Ginny's jovial mood slowly turned into thoughtful contemplation. She was surprised how comfortable she felt in Malfoy Manor, a place she'd once been convinced was some sort of fortress of evil. Of course, she reminded herself, perhaps it had been, once. Lucius Malfoy had been one of Voldemort's right-hand men, after all. In fact, it was very likely that the Dark Lord had many times before roamed the halls of the Manor. In fact, it was possible that he had been in that very room, sitting in her very chair.
The thought made her shudder a little, and she forced herself not to bolt from her chair. She was overreacting. And besides, even if it was true- which was upsettingly likely- he'd also been all over Hogwarts. For that matter, he'd also been in her mind, and she'd been in his. So there was no reason for her to panic. Places weren't tainted by association. Hogwarts was still one of her favorite places in the world, her mind was absolutely fine, and Malfoy Manor bore no traces of evil magic. Lucius may have been a Death Eater, but Draco was now lord of the Manor, and he was clean. He had never joined Voldemort's ranks.
This thought made a question that had been in the back of her mind for the past few days come to the surface. She tried to ignore it- why bring it up and spoil the evening?- but it suddenly seemed important. Finally, she spoke without turning to face her companion.
"Draco, can I ask you a question?"
She could hear him shifting on the sofa. "I don't see how I can stop you," he responded drily.
"If I ask you a question, will you answer it?" she amended.
His response floated lazily to her ears. "That would really depend on the question, wouldn't it?"
She was silent a long moment, wondering whether to pursue the subject. She felt she needed to know, though, and so, slowly and haltingly, she began to speak.
"Well, I was wondering . . . I suppose I really should have thought of this before yesterday . . . before I married you, I mean . . ." She trailed off, feeling very forward. She heard him shift impatiently, waiting for her question. She bit her lip. "How do you really feel about Muggles and Muggleborns? I mean, I guess what I'm asking is, why did you join the Order, really?"
Feeling very relieved to have that out, she turned back to look at Draco. He was lying on his side on the sofa, and at her question he had gone very still. She would almost guess that his jaw and fists were clenched, but it was hard to tell in the dim light. All she could really see were the angles in his face, which the dancing red light was throwing into sharp, strange relief. She didn't know if she'd ever seen him look so handsome or so dangerous. At that moment, she believed him capable of any lie, any treachery, and she waited on tenterhooks for his answer.
Then he sat up, incredibly slowly, and turned to look at her, and she found she'd been right. He was angry. "Because I'd have to have a reason, is that it?" His lips were twisted into a caustic smirk, and his voice had a strange edge to it she'd never heard. "I'm a Slytherin, a Malfoy, the son of Voldemort's favorite henchman. I'm destined to be evil, right? There's no way I could have fought Voldemort for completely unselfish reasons."
Ginny stared at him in open-mouthed surprise, unable to find words until he stood from the sofa. "No, that's not what I meant at all- well, all right, the thought did cross my mind. But-"
"Good night, Ginny." His voice effectively ended her stream of useless words, and he walked swiftly out of the den, moving through the darkness with the ease of long familiarity.
Ginny got up to follow him, but it was much harder for her to move through the dark room. By the time she got out of the den, Draco was disappearing up the stairs. She ran after him, but he had much longer legs, and was in his room with the door shut by the time she got there.
She knocked on the door. "Draco? I'm sorry. I never meant to insinuate that all Malfoys are evil. I know they're not, because I'm a Malfoy now, and goodness knows I'm wonderful." She listened carefully to see if he would react to her deliberate attempt to annoy him, but there was no sound. Then she tried the door, but it was locked. "Draco, please don't be mad," she called again. "I'm really sorry." She stepped back and sighed. "Really." She hesitated at the door nearly a full minute longer, but there seemed to be nothing more to say, so finally she simply called, "Good night, Draco."
In her own room, she pulled off her robe and hung it on the bathroom door, then entered the bathroom to prepare for bed, sighing all the while. It was her first fight as a married woman. And it was her fault. Of course she hadn't meant to anger him, or to indicate that he was wicked by nature. She was just curious. She was married to him, after all; she figured she ought to know where he stood on divisive social and political issues. But for whatever reason, it had angered him. She hadn't seen him like that since school, when he was much less in control of his emotions than he was now.
Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. She would simply have to talk to him in the morning; by then she hoped he would be calmer. At that moment, all she could do was sleep. So, folding down the covers, she turned out the lights and slipped into her bed.
It was fairly late, and she hadn't slept much the night before, so she found herself dropping off quickly. Before she could fall asleep, though, the door that connected her room to Draco's creaked open, throwing a shaft of light directly on her bed. She turned over and looked sleepily up at the door and the figure silhouetted in it. "Draco," she said in surprise, sitting up in bed. "Can I help you?"
Her husband walked a few steps into her room, rather hesitantly, then turned on a table lamp. She could see he was still in the button-up shirt he'd been wearing all day. I've got to get him some more casual clothes, she thought to herself.
"Look," he said, sitting gingerly on the arm of a small loveseat along the back wall, "I've been in there thinking, and . . . well, I'm-" Here he paused a long moment, while Ginny waited, wondering if the great ferret was actually going to apologize to her. "I'm- I shouldn't have done that. I know that. I just want you to know."
It wasn't quite an apology, but she got the impression that it was still quite the accomplishment to hear any humble sort of words from him. So she smiled at him. "It's all right," she told him.
"No, it's not," he told her. "I've always prided myself on not losing my head, and I did there, and it wasn't your fault. You didn't mean to set me off."
"No," she agreed.
"And it's just- I guess I have to put with so much crap from everybody. I see the way some people still look at me, as though I'm suddenly going to turn into my father and start Avada-ing everyone. I just get so sick of it."
"And you shouldn't have to put up with it at home," Ginny said softly. "Draco, I am sorry. You had every right to be mad at me. I should be the one person- and this should be the one place you're always safe. I'm sorry. I'll never do it again, I promise."
"Wow," he suddenly and bluntly. "I really must be exhausted if I'm getting all warm and fuzzy and talking about my emotions and crap. I'm going to bed."
In earlier times, she would have been offended at his abrupt treatment of her earnest apology. But now she knew him, and knew he wasn't good with talking about how he felt. So she just smiled. "Good night, Draco."
He stopped at the door. "When did you start calling me Draco?" he asked.
Ginny frowned in confusion. "Have I been? I guess so." She thought a moment, then smiled and shrugged. "I guess about the time I decided to marry you."
Draco nodded. "Well, good night . . . Ginevra?"
She shook her head and smiled. "No one I like calls me Ginevra," she said.
"And what makes you think I like you?"
She rolled her eyes. "Certainly not your behavior, darling. Go to bed before you say something you'll regret later."
He smirked. "I never regret anything."
"I'm beginning to believe that. Good night."
"Good night, Weas- Malfoy."
"Don't you dare start calling me Malfoy all the time."
The last thing she saw before he turned off the lamp was the smirk on his face. Then he left and shut the door behind him, leaving Ginny's room in darkness. Ginny dropped her face into the pillows, sighed, then turned over. Perhaps she was crazy, but what was done was done, and worrying wouldn't do any good. Just rest now, she told herself, and in a few minutes she was fast asleep.
. . . . . .
Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. - Jane Austen
. . . . . .
It had been a very odd few days, Draco reflected at breakfast the next morning. Just two mornings earlier, he had been a dashing, carefree bachelor. Now, forty-eight hours and one wedding later, he was a married man, sitting down for his first meal with his new wife. She was presently at the other end of the table, waiting in silence for breakfast to be served.
He thought it odd that a married couple should sit at either end of a table, but that was how his own parents had sat every day of their married lives, so he assumed that was the way it was done. And she hadn't complained about the setup. But then, maybe she just didn't want to sit near him. That was possible, considering their history together.
The meal passed in silence, neither party sure of how to make conversation. Draco found himself wondering if that was the way their entire marriage was going to go. He assured himself, however, that at some point the awkwardness would pass, and his house would stop feeling like a tomb. It was ridiculous, he knew, to feel so ill at ease. A man's home was his castle- literally, in his case- and he refused to feel like a stranger in it. It would pass. It was simply the strangeness of their situation.
And strange it indeed had been. They'd been married the night before at Gretna Green by an old business acquaintance of the Malfoy family, who'd been willing to perform the ceremony with a minimum of questions or bother. Ginny was wearing blue robes she'd chosen out of Mrs. Malfoy's closet. Draco had initially preferred a white dress they'd found, until Ginny had tried it on. Although she'd looked quite nice in it, seeing her in white had suddenly made him very uncomfortable, so he'd encouraged her to wear the blue one instead.
It was two-thirty by the time they got back to Malfoy Manor, and both were exhausted from their late night. Ginny had thought to bring some things from home, so she slept that night in the guest room on the second floor after bidding him a half-hearted good night. Draco felt somewhat disappointed by this. He hadn't expected anything to happen- she had made it quite clear that their relationship would not be physical- but still, a late-night wedding and an emotionless good night seemed not to be enough. He wasn't a hopeless romantic like Ginny, with her high fantastical hopes for the perfect marriage, but he still felt somewhat cheated. She could at least have told him to sleep well as though she meant it.
The morning had dawned too bright and too early, and Draco had awoken feeling like he hadn't slept at all. He'd dressed quickly and sharply, the way he always did; even though he was usually alone at the Manor, he never left his room in any state of undress. As he was fixing his hair in the spacious master bedroom suite's bathroom, he suddenly had wondered if Ginny had brought anything to wear. Should he ask her? Should he offer her something else out of his mother's closet?
When he got down to breakfast, though, she was already dressed, and so had obviously brought clothes. They exchanged curt greetings. The questions he'd been going to ask died on his tongue, and after that neither one spoke.
Draco had already owled work to say he would not be coming in that day; he never skipped work, but he figured that he was entitled on the day after he was married. As the elves cleared the dishes away, he finally spoke to Ginny. "I was thinking," he said carefully, "that perhaps you could take today off work, to stay home and get things settled here." The words felt funny in his mouth. Stay home. Her home. His home. Their home.
From the look on her face, he guessed that similar thoughts were passing through her mind, but she simply gave him what was probably her attempt at a natural smile and replied, "I already did."
He returned the tight smile and stood from his chair. "Well," he asked, "shall we go get you moved out of your apartment?"
Ginny's apartment- Ginny's old apartment- sat on a small side street situated near both the Ministry of Magic and St. Mungo's. The location was great, but the building itself was a dark, dingy place, which Draco was fairly sure was kept standing with magic. He had plenty of time to study the interior of the bottom floor while Ginny talked to the manager about ending her contract. The place was definitely no where that a Malfoy would ever deign to live. Although, he told himself, apparently one had- but then, she had only married into the family.
As Ginny unlocked the door to her apartment, Draco smiled weakly at her. "It's nice," he said, looking around at the scuffed floors and cheap wood paneling.
"Are you kidding?" Ginny retorted immediately, using a normal tone for the first time that day. "This place is a hole!"
After that conversation flowed much easier. Draco and Ginny spent the entire morning packing up the contents- the pitifully few contents, in Draco's opinion- of her apartment. With their magic, it shouldn't have taken that long, but Ginny had to stop every few minutes and exclaim over some knickknack or photograph she found. Hating to be kept out of the loop, Draco would ask her what was going on every time this happened, and she would explain it to him, usually breaking into a long story during which they would both sit on trunks to talk.
He found out a lot about her this way: that she liked roses and living in the country, that she loved growing up in a big family and wanted at least as many children as her parents had, that she feared nothing in the world except being betrayed by those she loved, the way Tom Riddle's diary had used and betrayed her. When she spoke of this she became very quiet, and Draco, watching her closely, saw her frown as though in pain.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I just realized," she said, "I'd hate to be hurt by those I love, but I'm hurting everyone I know by doing- this." She gestured at the boxes and trunks strewn around her.
Draco found he almost felt bad about that- almost- but he brushed it aside with the ease of long years of ignoring his conscience. "Well," he said nonchalantly, "perhaps you should have thought of that before we went to Gretna Green." She shot him a dirty look, which he brushed off. "Come on," he said, reaching out a hand to help her up. "It's nearly one. Let's get lunch."
They ate in Diagon Alley at a little cafe Draco had never been into, though he'd often passed it. It was run by a wizard and his Muggle wife, who'd been a chef in London before unwittingly marrying into the wizarding world. Draco's parents had naturally never let him go there, and he didn't want to now. Ginny really liked the place, though, and as she still seemed upset, he decided not to argue. The clientele was not the kind of people he normally associated with, but he had to admit, the food was not bad.
Ginny still seemed upset, probably about her earlier realization. Draco watched her half-heartedly eat her chips for a few minutes, his discomfort growing by the moment. He hoped desperately that she wouldn't break down in tears and cause an embarrassing scene here in public. Trying to distract her from reaching that point, he spoke up. "You know we're going to have to tell people at some point," he pointed out.
"I know," she said glumly.
He ate in silence another few minutes. Then: "Should we put an announcement in the paper or something? I mean, the society pages will do their little complimentary announcement, but maybe we should pay for a bigger, fancier one. You know, make it look like this is the happiest moment of our lives."
She shrugged, her eyes still fixed on her plate. "No one in my family ever had a paid announcement in the Prophet."
"That settles it, then," he said. "If your family never did it, then we most certainly will."
She shot a glare at him across the table, then sighed and looked out the window. "I'll have to tell my family in person, though."
He nodded, stirring his soup uncomfortably and hoping his next question wouldn't set her off. "Are you thinking of going today?"
She shook her head. "I want to get used to it myself," she said. "I'll probably go tomorrow night."
He hesitated, then: "Are you going to make me come with you?"
She bit her lip. "Well . . ." She trailed off, looking pensive, then suddenly started, sitting up straight and assuming a more nonchalant attitude. "I guess it doesn't matter," she said with what sounded to him like a forced tone. "I mean, it's not that big a to-do, right?"
Wondering what triggered the sudden change, but glad not to be dealing with a moody woman anymore, Draco sat back and sipped his drink. "No," he said, feeling much more comfortable now that Ginny didn't look like she was about to cry, "it's not that big a to-do at all."
Ginny nodded in satisfaction. "Because it's just marriage," she replied.
Draco frowned a little at these words. This, coming from Ginny? "Right," he said matter-of-factly, all the while feeling vaguely disappointed in her, of all people, for saying such a thing. "It's just marriage."
. . . . . .
After finishing lunch, they returned to her apartment and moved everything to the Manor. Ginny had expected she would be staying in the guest room where she'd spent the previous night, but when they arrived back at the house, Draco ordered the house elves to move it to something he called the yellow room. "What's that?" Ginny asked as they followed the house elves and the floating trunks up to the fourth floor.
"I've been thinking about sleeping arrangements," Draco replied, "and I think this might be best. You don't want people to know this whole marriage is a joke, right?" She nodded. "All right," he said. "The house elves wouldn't tell anyone, but in case we ever have guests or anything, I thought it would be best if it at least looked like we shared a room, or could, you know, stand each other. There's a nursery right off the master bedroom suite, so I had the elves move all the furniture from the guest room in there. That way, if they question ever came up, it would look like you and I entered the same room at night."
Ginny shrugged. "I guess that makes sense," she said. "Is there another door?"
"There are two," he replied, "one to the master bedroom suite and one to the hallway. So you don't have to deal with me if you don't want to."
"That is excellent news," Ginny said. She was feeling much better than she had at her apartment. Now that she had actually moved out, she felt more calm. She could make this work.
They reached a stretch of hallway with two doors in it: one a set of double doors with elaborate molding, the other a simple single door. The elves were moving her trunks through the smaller door. Ginny followed them in to find herself in a charming room done all in yellow and white. She recognized the furniture as being from the room she'd slept in last night. Two elves were transfiguring the dark woods and blue fabrics to match the colors of the room.
She walked around for a few moments in amazement. "This was a nursery?" she asked Draco in disbelief. Apparently the Malfoys treated babies well. The room was as large as her entire apartment, and the carpet and wallpaper was far nicer than anything from even St. Mungo's administrative offices, which she'd always considered to be especially nice.
"This was my nursery," Draco replied. "I slept in here until I was six."
"Really?" Ginny replied. "You'd think with all the bright colors in here, you would have turned out a happier child." She laughed at her own joke, then looked up at the high ceilings. "This room is incredible," she said. "Does it ever bother you that you have so much room to yourself? I mean, my whole family could sleep in here. Seriously. In some countries, several villages could live comfortably in a house this size. Don't you ever feel guilty that it's just you?"
Draco, with a tone of feigned concern, pretended to ponder. "Wow, let me think about the socio-economic implications of that. Hmm . . . No, I never feel guilty. Sorry."
He turned and motioned to a door in the wall. "That leads to my room. Please knock if you're going to come in."
Before he could continue, she went to the door and peeked through it. "Are you serious?" came her voice. "People actually have bedrooms this size?"
He took her arm and pulled her back into her room. "And that door back there is the bathroom."
Ginny turned and stared at him. "No. Your nursery has its own bathroom?"
Draco shook his head and walked to the door that led to his room. "I'm leaving before you say anything else stupid. Get unpacked. I'm going to change out of my dirty clothes." He motioned to his dusty clothing, then added, "I hope you're not going to let your things get as dusty here as you did at your apartment."
Before Ginny could object, he was through the door. Just before it shut, he called at her, "Supper's at six. Please try not to be late."
As he shut the door, Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, but he didn't see. "You know what?" she commented to the house elf who'd been assigned to help her unpack. "I think this place drives people crazy."
Supper wasn't nearly as somber as breakfast had been, but Ginny could tell it was going to be some time before they were completely comfortable with each other. But that was okay, she told herself. They didn't have to like each other. This was a marriage of convenience. It wasn't the happiest thought in the world, but she was becoming accustomed to it. She wasn't as concerned about it as she used to be. There, you see? she told herself. I am not a prude. She was still concerned about how she was going to explain everything to her family, but she had come to terms with things, and was feeling quite proud of herself for proving that she wasn't going to be an old stick in the mud.
After dinner, she finished unpacking, then showered to clean herself of the grime of moving. Draco had been right, much as she hated to admit it- her possessions were a bit dusty with neglect. Oh, well, she told herself. Having house elves ought to take care of that.
Which was as strange thought, in and of itself. Of course she'd had house elves at Hogwarts, but there were so many students there that it wasn't like having personal servants. One rarely saw the elves at Hogwarts. Here at the Manor, she would see them face to face, all the time, and have to give them orders and tell them what to do. She wasn't sure she knew how to do that. Her mother had always ingrained into her children the need to keep things tidy and clean up after yourself. The lesson hadn't taken much among the boys, but Ginny had learned it. She didn't always follow it, of course, as her apartment was evidence of, but she had learned it.
Having house elves might be bad, actually. What if, in the next year and a half, she got so used to having them there, she got out of the habit of cleaning, and when she left couldn't take care of herself? That was a scary thought. So was thinking about what she actually would do when she left Draco. The thought of life as a divorcee, albeit a rich one, was a scary thought. So was the thought of her, Ginny Weasley, ever actually leaving a husband. Now that she thought of it, this whole affair was frightening. What was she doing there? What was she thinking?
Ginny shook her head. This train of thought wasn't taking her anywhere useful. She forced herself to think of other things as she dried her hair and changed into pajamas. Then, still plagued by doubts, she crossed the room and knocked on Draco's door. It was only nine, so she was sure he wasn't in bed yet. She wanted to talk to him- about what, she didn't know. She just knew that talking to another person would be the best way to get herself out of her present dark mood. He didn't answer, so she opened the door and peeked in. The huge suite- at least the parts of it she could see- were empty. So, pulling on a robe over her pajamas, she went downstairs to find him.
It took asking a house elf, but she finally found him in the den, a cozy room, small compared to other rooms in the house, with large, comfortable chairs and couches, and decorated with furs and antlers and animal heads. Ginny found the dead animals a little off-putting, but fortunately Draco had the lamps off so the room was only lit by the fire in the huge stone fireplace.
"What?" he bluntly asked without turning around, as she lingered in the doorway. "Can I help you with something?"
Ginny scowled a little. "Do I have to have a reason to come in?" she asked, annoyed. "We're married now. We live together. Can I just come in and sit in the same room as you?"
It was not until he moved in response to her question that she finally could see where he was- sprawled out on a sofa in front of the fire, his head just visible in silhouette as he looked back at her over the top of the sofa. "I guess," he said, sounding disdainful and a little confused. "If you really must."
"Thank you," she replied. "I must." She moved carefully into the room, trying not to bump into any furniture as she moved around in the dark.
"Do you need a light?" Draco asked disparagingly. "I'd really hate for you to break any of this furniture. Everything in here is a priceless antique."
"Hey, Draco," Ginny said, "a group of Chudley Cannons fans and a Puddlemere United fan walk into a restaurant, and the Puddlemere fan says, 'I'll have the pot roast,' and the waiter says, 'Vegetables?' and the Puddlemere fan says, 'They'll have the same as me.'"
There was a long pause, during which Ginny moved the rest of the way to a tall-backed arm chair near the fire. Finally: "What?"
"You seemed to be a bit cranky," she explained. "I thought a little Chudley Cannons humor might cheer you up."
There was another long silence, and Ginny turned to look at Draco, who was staring at her in disbelief. Then she heard a sound she didn't expect: he was laughing. She'd made Draco Malfoy, ice prince and rich prig, laugh. "You're a strange girl, Ginny Weasley," he said, chuckling. Then his laughter died down. "Ginny Malfoy, I guess," he amended.
"Yeah," Ginny replied. "Ginny Malfoy."
There was a pause while Draco shifted on the sofa. "So you're not in tears about this anymore. That's an improvement."
"I never cried!" Ginny said indignantly.
"Well, you were close," Draco said off-handedly. "I'm glad you've stopped. I thought you were going to embarrass me in public."
"Oh, shut up," she replied. "Anyway, I've been thinking about it, and our situation is not that weird. It's kind of like me having a guy roommate, only when we're in public we have to pretend we're in love with each other." She shrugged. "People have stranger living conditions than this."
"If you know people with stranger living conditions than this," Draco commented, "you have bizarre friends."
"It's possible," Ginny agreed, and the pair lapsed into silence. It was a much more amiable silence now, though, and Ginny smiled to herself as she settled comfortably into the armchair. After a few minutes of staring into the fire, she spoke up again. "This is a beautiful house, Draco. I mean, it's not like the Stewarts', but it has its own sort of charm."
"Thank you," he replied a few moments later, his voice coming phantom-like out of the darkness. "I guess it's good you like it. I mean- I guess it's your home now."
"That's strange," she said thoughtfully. "Does it feel utterly bizarre to you, to have me call this home? I mean, I've never had a real house I could call home, in an . . . well, not in an ownership sense, really, but, you know, one where I'm not just a kid living there. Does that make any sense?"
Draco made a noncommital sound. "I guess so."
Ginny pressed on. "And not only that, but I'm sharing this home, in a semi-ownership sense, with . . . a partner. With my husband. Doesn't that terrify you? I was trying to think of you as my husband today, and I just can't do it. It's too strange."
"The world is a crazy place," he replied in a tone that, to the untrained ear, would sound bored. She was beginning to understand his moods, though, and she recognized his tone- somewhat interested but unwilling to admit it. If she had to guess, she'd say he'd been having the same thoughts all along. He just refused to acknowledge it to her.
So she pressed on. "And Ginny Malfoy. Ginevra Malfoy. That's strange. That's how I'm going to have to introduce myself. 'Hello, my name is Ginevra Malfoy, but you can call me Ginny. That's my husband over there, scowling at passersby. Why yes, yes, he is the infamous Draco Malfoy. What's that you say? Oh, no, I can personally assure you he does not sleep in a coffin. How do I know? Well, we are married, so of course I sleep in his nursery.'"
"Are you done yet?" he asked, and there was a catch of laughter in his voice.
"Someday, darling, you'll realize I'm never done."
Draco didn't respond, but he did throw a pillow at her. She caught it and laughed, then lapsed into silence, feeling much better than she had earlier. Perhaps her situation was bizarre, but at least she and Draco could stand to be in the same room. That was more than some marriages had, she supposed.
As the fire continued to burn and the pair sat in silence, Ginny's jovial mood slowly turned into thoughtful contemplation. She was surprised how comfortable she felt in Malfoy Manor, a place she'd once been convinced was some sort of fortress of evil. Of course, she reminded herself, perhaps it had been, once. Lucius Malfoy had been one of Voldemort's right-hand men, after all. In fact, it was very likely that the Dark Lord had many times before roamed the halls of the Manor. In fact, it was possible that he had been in that very room, sitting in her very chair.
The thought made her shudder a little, and she forced herself not to bolt from her chair. She was overreacting. And besides, even if it was true- which was upsettingly likely- he'd also been all over Hogwarts. For that matter, he'd also been in her mind, and she'd been in his. So there was no reason for her to panic. Places weren't tainted by association. Hogwarts was still one of her favorite places in the world, her mind was absolutely fine, and Malfoy Manor bore no traces of evil magic. Lucius may have been a Death Eater, but Draco was now lord of the Manor, and he was clean. He had never joined Voldemort's ranks.
This thought made a question that had been in the back of her mind for the past few days come to the surface. She tried to ignore it- why bring it up and spoil the evening?- but it suddenly seemed important. Finally, she spoke without turning to face her companion.
"Draco, can I ask you a question?"
She could hear him shifting on the sofa. "I don't see how I can stop you," he responded drily.
"If I ask you a question, will you answer it?" she amended.
His response floated lazily to her ears. "That would really depend on the question, wouldn't it?"
She was silent a long moment, wondering whether to pursue the subject. She felt she needed to know, though, and so, slowly and haltingly, she began to speak.
"Well, I was wondering . . . I suppose I really should have thought of this before yesterday . . . before I married you, I mean . . ." She trailed off, feeling very forward. She heard him shift impatiently, waiting for her question. She bit her lip. "How do you really feel about Muggles and Muggleborns? I mean, I guess what I'm asking is, why did you join the Order, really?"
Feeling very relieved to have that out, she turned back to look at Draco. He was lying on his side on the sofa, and at her question he had gone very still. She would almost guess that his jaw and fists were clenched, but it was hard to tell in the dim light. All she could really see were the angles in his face, which the dancing red light was throwing into sharp, strange relief. She didn't know if she'd ever seen him look so handsome or so dangerous. At that moment, she believed him capable of any lie, any treachery, and she waited on tenterhooks for his answer.
Then he sat up, incredibly slowly, and turned to look at her, and she found she'd been right. He was angry. "Because I'd have to have a reason, is that it?" His lips were twisted into a caustic smirk, and his voice had a strange edge to it she'd never heard. "I'm a Slytherin, a Malfoy, the son of Voldemort's favorite henchman. I'm destined to be evil, right? There's no way I could have fought Voldemort for completely unselfish reasons."
Ginny stared at him in open-mouthed surprise, unable to find words until he stood from the sofa. "No, that's not what I meant at all- well, all right, the thought did cross my mind. But-"
"Good night, Ginny." His voice effectively ended her stream of useless words, and he walked swiftly out of the den, moving through the darkness with the ease of long familiarity.
Ginny got up to follow him, but it was much harder for her to move through the dark room. By the time she got out of the den, Draco was disappearing up the stairs. She ran after him, but he had much longer legs, and was in his room with the door shut by the time she got there.
She knocked on the door. "Draco? I'm sorry. I never meant to insinuate that all Malfoys are evil. I know they're not, because I'm a Malfoy now, and goodness knows I'm wonderful." She listened carefully to see if he would react to her deliberate attempt to annoy him, but there was no sound. Then she tried the door, but it was locked. "Draco, please don't be mad," she called again. "I'm really sorry." She stepped back and sighed. "Really." She hesitated at the door nearly a full minute longer, but there seemed to be nothing more to say, so finally she simply called, "Good night, Draco."
In her own room, she pulled off her robe and hung it on the bathroom door, then entered the bathroom to prepare for bed, sighing all the while. It was her first fight as a married woman. And it was her fault. Of course she hadn't meant to anger him, or to indicate that he was wicked by nature. She was just curious. She was married to him, after all; she figured she ought to know where he stood on divisive social and political issues. But for whatever reason, it had angered him. She hadn't seen him like that since school, when he was much less in control of his emotions than he was now.
Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. She would simply have to talk to him in the morning; by then she hoped he would be calmer. At that moment, all she could do was sleep. So, folding down the covers, she turned out the lights and slipped into her bed.
It was fairly late, and she hadn't slept much the night before, so she found herself dropping off quickly. Before she could fall asleep, though, the door that connected her room to Draco's creaked open, throwing a shaft of light directly on her bed. She turned over and looked sleepily up at the door and the figure silhouetted in it. "Draco," she said in surprise, sitting up in bed. "Can I help you?"
Her husband walked a few steps into her room, rather hesitantly, then turned on a table lamp. She could see he was still in the button-up shirt he'd been wearing all day. I've got to get him some more casual clothes, she thought to herself.
"Look," he said, sitting gingerly on the arm of a small loveseat along the back wall, "I've been in there thinking, and . . . well, I'm-" Here he paused a long moment, while Ginny waited, wondering if the great ferret was actually going to apologize to her. "I'm- I shouldn't have done that. I know that. I just want you to know."
It wasn't quite an apology, but she got the impression that it was still quite the accomplishment to hear any humble sort of words from him. So she smiled at him. "It's all right," she told him.
"No, it's not," he told her. "I've always prided myself on not losing my head, and I did there, and it wasn't your fault. You didn't mean to set me off."
"No," she agreed.
"And it's just- I guess I have to put with so much crap from everybody. I see the way some people still look at me, as though I'm suddenly going to turn into my father and start Avada-ing everyone. I just get so sick of it."
"And you shouldn't have to put up with it at home," Ginny said softly. "Draco, I am sorry. You had every right to be mad at me. I should be the one person- and this should be the one place you're always safe. I'm sorry. I'll never do it again, I promise."
"Wow," he suddenly and bluntly. "I really must be exhausted if I'm getting all warm and fuzzy and talking about my emotions and crap. I'm going to bed."
In earlier times, she would have been offended at his abrupt treatment of her earnest apology. But now she knew him, and knew he wasn't good with talking about how he felt. So she just smiled. "Good night, Draco."
He stopped at the door. "When did you start calling me Draco?" he asked.
Ginny frowned in confusion. "Have I been? I guess so." She thought a moment, then smiled and shrugged. "I guess about the time I decided to marry you."
Draco nodded. "Well, good night . . . Ginevra?"
She shook her head and smiled. "No one I like calls me Ginevra," she said.
"And what makes you think I like you?"
She rolled her eyes. "Certainly not your behavior, darling. Go to bed before you say something you'll regret later."
He smirked. "I never regret anything."
"I'm beginning to believe that. Good night."
"Good night, Weas- Malfoy."
"Don't you dare start calling me Malfoy all the time."
The last thing she saw before he turned off the lamp was the smirk on his face. Then he left and shut the door behind him, leaving Ginny's room in darkness. Ginny dropped her face into the pillows, sighed, then turned over. Perhaps she was crazy, but what was done was done, and worrying wouldn't do any good. Just rest now, she told herself, and in a few minutes she was fast asleep.
. . . . . .
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