A Wife takes a Malfoy Heir

“Ginny,” Draco said gravely as he entered his wife’s private sitting room. “I have some unsettling news to tell you.”

The first edition collection of Byron poetry she’d been attempting to read fell to the carpeted floor with a dull thud as she was startled out of her light doze. Her heart had managed to find its way to her throat. “Oh dear god, what?”

Her husband moved to sit on the edge of the lounge chair. She shifted her feet to make room for him. He patted her thigh fondly as he made himself comfortable. “There is no easy way to do this so I’m going to just come out and say it. I think Liam ran off and got married and forgot to tell us.”

“What?” she gasped.

“I think Liam got married without--”

“I heard you the first time,” she snipped.

“Don’t shout at me, I’m just the messenger.”


“I’m not sure.”

“How could he not tell us something this important?”

“You know how Liam is.”

“Yes,” she hissed, leveling a glare at him that made Draco fear for his life. “After all, he is your son.”

“Are you insinuating I had a hand in this?”

Ginny ignored his painfully obvious question. Of course he had a hand in this. No matter how hard she tried, she could not get the Malfoy out of her eldest child. “How?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think Liam knew what he was doing.”

“What makes you think that? Liam prides himself on his control.”

“I don’t think he had much choice in the matter. I think she decided for the both of them regardless of his intentions,” Draco admitted. It pained him to think that his son, his pride and joy, his mirror image, had allowed a female to railroad him into something he hadn’t wanted to do. He thought he’d raised Liam better than that.

“Everyone has a choice.”

“You have no idea who his wife is.”

“Lulu isn’t that pushy.” Ginny would staunchly defend the witch she’d come to consider a daughter until the end of time. They had come to an understanding long ago – the younger witch would be allowed to have Liam when she was ready to give him up. She’d definitely have to have a word with her protégé about her timing.

Draco blanched, finding it difficult to form the words to tell his lovely wife that she had jumped to the incorrect conclusion. If there was one thing he’d learned in all his years of being married: Ginny definitely hated to be informed she was, indeed, wrong.

“Why don’t you see for yourself,” he said, rising then holding hand out to her. She allowed him to help her up and guide her to the large window overlooking the gardens.

Ginny trained her eyes on the pale head of her son as he went about carefully selecting the most beautiful rose bud in her garden. He swiftly detached the yellow and red flower from the bush with the Swiss army pocketknife his grandfather had given him just this Christmas past. She was surprised he’d managed to retain all of his fingers thus far.

“He’s so sweet,” she sighed when he gave the perfect bud to the love of his life. She couldn’t even muster the ability to be angry at him for butchering last year’s best in show rosebush when he was being such a perfect gentleman. He could be so romantic and sweet like his father when he put his mind to it.

“That, my darling,” Draco said, wrapping his arms around his wife’s waist and nuzzling the back of her neck, “is his mistress.”

“His what?”

He nipped her ear. “His mistress.”

“If Lucy Ann is his mistress, then who the hell is his wife?” Ginny took a deep breath, trying to quell the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She somehow knew that she would not be happy with the answer to that question.

“She’s sitting over by the duck pond.” Draco couldn’t bring to say the witch’s name for fear of Ginny’s wrath. He knew how biased she was towards their son’s red-headed female companion.



“I don’t believe it.”

“Don’t or won’t?”

“Does it matter?”

“I suppose not, but as I said, I don’t think he had much choice in the matter,” Draco said, trying to defend his son’s honor a teeny tiny bit. It was his fatherly duty after all.

“Pushy little bint,” Ginny muttered under her breath.

“What did you say?”

“I said she’s a pushy little bint.” The look she gave her husband dared him to disagree.

“So is that what you think of your new daughter-in-law then? A pushy little bint?”

“No, I was being kind,” she drawled. “I really think she’s a dark haired little harlot for tricking my baby into something he didn’t want to do!”

“Liam is a big boy and can take care of himself.”

“That is what you think,” she harrumphed, crossing her arms.

“You have to let him go some time.”

“No I don’t!”


“But he’s so young!”

“Do you really want to come between them?”

“Yes! He’s with the wrong witch!”

“How do you know that?”

“Li Li would never go for that brazen hussy!” Ginny stated emphatically. He might be his father’s son, but it was she, his mother, who knew him best.

Draco knew he was risking his naughty bits, but the question begged to be asked. “Wouldn’t Lucy Ann be the hussy, seeing as she doesn’t have the decency to keep her paws off Liam in front of his wife?”

“She’s just a witch who knows what she wants!”

“And his wife doesn’t know what she wants?”

“No, she doesn’t! And stop calling her that!”

“Ginny, baby,” he said soothingly, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and pulling her close. He dropped a soft kiss on her nose. “You going to have to learn to deal with the fact that Liam might not end up with Lulu, no matter how much you want it to happen.”

She allowed him to kiss her properly before mounting her protest because she wasn’t one to pass up a perfectly good snog with the most handsome wizard in all of Britain. “I’m not listening!”

“Maybe he really does like her, deep down.”

Ginny sneered. “If he went for the dark hair and glasses type.”

“He gets that from you, you know?"

“Gets what?”

“The attraction to dark hair and glasses.”

“I’ve never been attracted to that type.”

Draco chuckled at his wife’s steadfast denial, especially when her attraction had bordered on obsession and was very nearly legendary when she was a first year at school. “Yes, you have,” he said with a sly smile.

“I have no idea what you're talking about?” She refused to meet his eyes.

“His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, / His hair is as dark as a blackboard. / I wish he was mine, he's really divine…,”1 Draco recited from memory in a sing-songy voice.

She tried to push him away, but he refused to loosen his arms around her. “Don’t make me hate you!”

He pressed a soft kiss on the top of her head. “I have no worries. You love me too much to hate me at such a late date.”

“That’s what you think…” Ginny trailed off, pulling herself forcefully from her husband’s embrace to stare out the window at her son, his wife and his mistress. “Draco, do something before they hurt him!”

Draco turned just in time to see his son being fought over by two witches in the middle of the back garden over near the tree house. Liam was caught in the middle of a vicious tug of war between Enid and Lucy Ann, each trying their best to rip him in two by the arms.

“I think the divorce proceedings have begun,” he said smugly, pride swelling in chest at the thought of witches fighting over his son. The irresistible Malfoy male tradition was alive and well.

“Thank god, he’s only five,” Ginny said with great relief. “Can you imagine how much it would have cost us to get him out of that sham of a marriage?”

“My Gringotts vaults are very thankful.”

“I wonder who’s going to get custody of Gustav.”

“Don’t even go there. I don’t want to even consider the blood that would be shed if Enid made a play for the duck. Besides, I’m not up to disposing of a body today.” Draco shuddered at the thought.

“Lazy,” Ginny teased playfully, giving him a very fond pat on the arse to send him on his way to save their son.

“You try coming up with a plausible alibi after digging a very deep hole, witch.”

“That’s what you have a wand for, darling.”

“Uh huh, I hear you.”

Draco gave his wife one last quick kiss before venturing out to risk life and limb to save his heir from the little witches in his life.


1 Rowling, J. K. Harry Potter and Chamber of Secrets (AV). New York: Scholastic, 2000. Page 238.
The End.
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