Ginny stood in front of the mirror again, impressed not only with Draco Malfoy once more, but also his seamstress, or whomever he’d hired to make her costume. It was absolutely gorgeous. She was supposed to be Guinevere, which she thought fitting, considering her name. It was a beautiful dress, cream coloured with light blue accents, a fitted bodice, and skirt that clung to her curves before falling to the floor. She adored the sleeves, which came to a point at the back of her hands. For the first time since she’d started dating him, or at least accompanying him to these parties, she felt truly beautiful.
She sighed happily and picked up the Portkey he’d given her to transport her to his entrance hall before all of the other guests arrived. It was a rather beautiful handkerchief, and matched her costume perfectly. He was so very thoughtful and charming. He consistently took care of her and seemed to be truly enamoured with her. She couldn’t believe that she’d ever not liked him. She had also come to a decision. Her days as a cat burglar were over. She didn’t care what she found in his home, she had fulfilled her promise to Parvati, and that would have to be enough. Ginny knew that she couldn’t ever take anything from Draco. She couldn’t.
She giggled as she felt the familiar tug of the Portkey. Draco. I just thought of him as Draco.
*********************************************
If Nott and the Parkinsons thought they had known how to throw a party, they’d just been proven wrong, in Ginny’s opinion. This was the most elaborate fete that she’d ever even imagined, in all of her girlish fantasies. Delightfully delicate ice sculptures glittered all around the rooms, which were breathtaking to say the very least, filled with people in colourful costumes and bedecked with jewels. There were splendid parquet floors charmed to look slick and sparkling without causing any dangerous accidents, Corinthian columns, matching those that framed the building’s front visage, that gave the walls a sense of understated elegance; but her favourite features were the ceilings, covered in stunning frescoes magically enhanced so that the viewer could see both the wider picture and the delicate details, depending on their desire. Ginny was especially delighted to find in one section a replica of a fresco from Pompeii, which she and Bill had waxed lyrical about when he’d brought her books on Antiquity whenever he came home from his travels.
Ginny was amused at Draco’s choice of costume. Being Guinevere, she’d assumed he would be Lancelot.
When she told him of her guess, he only scoffed. “Why be a knight when you can be a king?” he retorted, adjusting the crown and robes on his King Arthur costume. “Besides,” he whispered, pulling her close to him, “my Guinevere won’t betray me.”
She kissed him sweetly. “No,” she replied. “She won’t.”
Ginny sat at Draco’s right hand at dinner, which put the feasts they’d had at Hogwarts to shame. They somehow found the time to dance nearly every dance and still mingle with all of the guests, the sheer volume of which made Ginny’s head spin. Everything at the ball was going absolutely perfectly, the costumes were beautiful, the people were charming, and to Ginny’s immense relief, she hadn’t seen anything that looked like it had been taken from someone else during the war. It was late when the last of the guests had gone, and Draco spun Ginny around the entrance hall.
“Thank you so much, King Arthur,” she teased. “I’ve had a lovely time.”
He brought her hand to his lips. “As have I, Guinevere.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. Would you like a drink?”
“Yes, please,” she replied.
They ventured down one of many corridors in his ancestral home, and ended up in what he’d told her was his study. It was a nice room, much less formal than the others that she’d been in that night, but still seemed uniquely Draco. He had a large desk with papers spilling off of the top on one side of the room, and an enormous fireplace with two chairs and a sofa surrounding it on the other. There were bookshelves lining every wall save one, filled with an assortment of books on every subject imaginable.
Draco poured them drinks, and Ginny snuggled up to him on the sofa before the fire. “How did we get here?” she asked. “Not too long ago, I didn’t even like you. It seems like this just happened overnight.”
Draco snorted. “Overnight? Good Merlin woman, I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to get you here.” He pulled her closer. “Now that you’re here, I’m not planning on letting you go.” He placed their drinks on the table before pulling her to him. His fingers trailed through her hair. “So beautiful,” he murmured. His hand cupped her face, gently cradling it as his mouth placed warm kisses down her neck. Ginny let out a small moan of delight, and was just starting to relax into his ministrations when a house elf interrupted them.
“I is sorry, Master, but there is a matter that needs your attention, sir.”
Draco glared at the elf and apologised to Ginny. “I’ll be right back. Don’t . . . don’t go anywhere.”
She sighed and leaned back into the cushions, looking about the room. I could definitely get used to this, she thought. She picked up her drink and began perusing the bookshelves. She was about to pull down a dog eared copy of Machiavelli’s The Prince, when the wall without the bookshelves attracted her eye. There was something there. She could feel traces of magic, but it wasn’t immediately obvious. She abandoned the book and her drink and went to stand before the wall.
She wasn’t sure what made her do it.
Ginny took out her wand and performed the revealing spell that Draco had done at Nott’s home and at the Parkinsons. The wall vanished and what was behind it made her heart jump into her chest and waves of nausea overtake her.
It was her clock, her mother’s clock. The Weasley clock. It was intact, with all of her brothers, her mother, father, and even her own face smiling down on her from the hands. She couldn’t choke back the sob that erupted from her throat. It was here. It was safe. She was momentarily relieved.
Then she realized what it meant. Draco or his parents had stolen this from the Burrow and then they had destroyed her childhood home. Even if Draco hadn’t been the wizard to do all of that, he hadn’t returned it. At worst, he had effectively lied to her for the last four years. At best, he’d kept something enormously important from her, which equated to the same thing in her book. All bets were off. She was definitely returning this to its rightful owner as soon as she could.
She wiped her eyes and reluctantly returned the wall back to its solid form, before walking slowly to the sofa, sinking into its depths. She had so many feelings running about in her heart: confusion, disappointment, and even anger, but underneath that, she knew that she still cared for Draco. This, however, keeping this from her, had hurt her more deeply than anything else he could’ve done.
When Draco returned, she rose from her seat and smiled at him. “Thank you so much for a lovely evening. I really must be getting home. I’ll see you at the office Monday, alright?” She placed a quick peck on his cheek and left him looking dumfounded in the middle of his study.
***********************************************
Later that night, after she had put on her dark clothes and mask, Ginny quietly crept back in to Malfoy manor. If Draco meant anything by his threat to ‘be ready,’ it sure doesn’t show, she thought idly.
She made her way silently back down the twisting corridors to the study, and crossed immediately to the empty wall. Using the same spell she’d used earlier, she dissolved the wall that concealed the clock.
It was empty. The small alcove that had held her family’s most prized possession only a few short hours ago was completely empty. She let out a growl of frustration.
“Looking for something?”
She spun around to find Draco sitting in one of the chairs at the fireplace, cut glass tumbler in hand. He spoke softly.
“There were so many clues, and I never put them together. I didn’t want to believe it was you. Even when I saw the muddy boots in your flat, and that book on Ancient Egyptian wizards missing, I gave you the benefit of the doubt.” He stood and crossed the room to pour himself another drink. “But then the ‘thief’ knew how to beat the charms I cast at Pansy’s. You’re the only other person who knows those, apart from me and my father. You told me that Pansy said that the portrait was ‘cheeky’. You weren’t even there when she told me about it being taken. You know more about casting and re-casting wards than is strictly normal for an Auror. There were muddy boots in your flat the second time I was there, they had the same black mud on them that ruined your shoes when we were at Nott’s.”
He drank deeply before continuing. “And the Vance girl. I ran into her at your flat when I was picking you up for the Parkinsons’ ball. I didn’t want to believe it was you. I still don’t. ‘A small, talented wizard’,” he repeated, quoting himself from weeks earlier. “I just got the sex wrong. It was a witch.”
Ginny took off the mask she was wearing and shook out her hair. “Are you going to take me to the Ministry?” she asked.
“Take you to the Ministry? Why would I do that? I’m in love with you, you daft girl.”
Ginny shook her head and laughed mirthlessly. “Now that’s a ridiculous thing to say.”
He frowned. “Why is it ridiculous?”
“It’s your job to arrest criminals,” she replied. “I am a criminal. I tried to steal something from you. You have to arrest me.”
“No, I don’t. I resigned this afternoon. I sent in an owl before you arrived for the party this evening.”
“You did?” she asked breathily. “What did you do with the clock?” she asked in a small voice. “Please say you didn’t destroy it.”
“Destroy it?” he asked incredulously. “Do you think me a monster? There is a shortage of really fine timepieces in the world, and although that one doesn’t technically tell the time, it is dead useful. I’ve used it on several occasions. I used it once when you were kidnapped, if you recall, and again later when you got into that scrape with that rogue band of Death Eaters.”
“That’s how you found me,” she whispered softly.
“It’s not like I spied on you constantly, but it was comforting to me to be able to know where you were at all times, just to know that you were safe.”
“Where is the clock now?”
“I sent it to your parents after you left. Anonymously, of course. Hopefully with a better anti-tracking spell than you used the first time.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“So,” he put down his drink. “I’m ready for you to take me to the Ministry.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You’re an Auror. It’s your job to arrest criminals. I harboured stolen goods from the war, so I am a criminal.”
“I don’t see any stolen goods,” she said softly.
They looked at one another from across the room.
She broke the silence. “Don’t you want to know why I did it?”
He shrugged. “I assume for some noble purpose of returning things to their rightful owner? When Pansy told me the portrait was of Ravenclaw, I knew it couldn’t have been hers. And I saw that suit of armour you took from Theo’s. We sat right across from it, remember?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“So,” he began.
“So,” she replied.
He sat down on the sofa. “I can’t arrest you, and evidently you have no grounds to arrest me.”
She smiled slightly. “No, I don’t.”
“Then we are at an impasse.”
She moved across the room to sit beside him. “It appears as if we are.”
He took the mask from her hand and tossed it away. “I’ve never caught a thief before. I must say, it’s stimulating.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
She reached out and took his hand. “What will I do without you to bring me coffee in the mornings, Draco?”
He smiled at the use of his first name. “Oh, I still plan on bringing you coffee every morning, Ginny. Just not at the Ministry.” He kissed the back of her hand. “That is to say, if you’re agreeable.”
She leaned in to him and murmured, “Yes. Yes, I think I am agreeable. I’ll have to be. You’re the only man who knows how I like my coffee.”
He claimed her lips with a kiss, and they sat comfortably before the fire, silently glad for the nobly intended crimes that had brought them together.
She sighed happily and picked up the Portkey he’d given her to transport her to his entrance hall before all of the other guests arrived. It was a rather beautiful handkerchief, and matched her costume perfectly. He was so very thoughtful and charming. He consistently took care of her and seemed to be truly enamoured with her. She couldn’t believe that she’d ever not liked him. She had also come to a decision. Her days as a cat burglar were over. She didn’t care what she found in his home, she had fulfilled her promise to Parvati, and that would have to be enough. Ginny knew that she couldn’t ever take anything from Draco. She couldn’t.
She giggled as she felt the familiar tug of the Portkey. Draco. I just thought of him as Draco.
*********************************************
If Nott and the Parkinsons thought they had known how to throw a party, they’d just been proven wrong, in Ginny’s opinion. This was the most elaborate fete that she’d ever even imagined, in all of her girlish fantasies. Delightfully delicate ice sculptures glittered all around the rooms, which were breathtaking to say the very least, filled with people in colourful costumes and bedecked with jewels. There were splendid parquet floors charmed to look slick and sparkling without causing any dangerous accidents, Corinthian columns, matching those that framed the building’s front visage, that gave the walls a sense of understated elegance; but her favourite features were the ceilings, covered in stunning frescoes magically enhanced so that the viewer could see both the wider picture and the delicate details, depending on their desire. Ginny was especially delighted to find in one section a replica of a fresco from Pompeii, which she and Bill had waxed lyrical about when he’d brought her books on Antiquity whenever he came home from his travels.
Ginny was amused at Draco’s choice of costume. Being Guinevere, she’d assumed he would be Lancelot.
When she told him of her guess, he only scoffed. “Why be a knight when you can be a king?” he retorted, adjusting the crown and robes on his King Arthur costume. “Besides,” he whispered, pulling her close to him, “my Guinevere won’t betray me.”
She kissed him sweetly. “No,” she replied. “She won’t.”
Ginny sat at Draco’s right hand at dinner, which put the feasts they’d had at Hogwarts to shame. They somehow found the time to dance nearly every dance and still mingle with all of the guests, the sheer volume of which made Ginny’s head spin. Everything at the ball was going absolutely perfectly, the costumes were beautiful, the people were charming, and to Ginny’s immense relief, she hadn’t seen anything that looked like it had been taken from someone else during the war. It was late when the last of the guests had gone, and Draco spun Ginny around the entrance hall.
“Thank you so much, King Arthur,” she teased. “I’ve had a lovely time.”
He brought her hand to his lips. “As have I, Guinevere.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. Would you like a drink?”
“Yes, please,” she replied.
They ventured down one of many corridors in his ancestral home, and ended up in what he’d told her was his study. It was a nice room, much less formal than the others that she’d been in that night, but still seemed uniquely Draco. He had a large desk with papers spilling off of the top on one side of the room, and an enormous fireplace with two chairs and a sofa surrounding it on the other. There were bookshelves lining every wall save one, filled with an assortment of books on every subject imaginable.
Draco poured them drinks, and Ginny snuggled up to him on the sofa before the fire. “How did we get here?” she asked. “Not too long ago, I didn’t even like you. It seems like this just happened overnight.”
Draco snorted. “Overnight? Good Merlin woman, I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to get you here.” He pulled her closer. “Now that you’re here, I’m not planning on letting you go.” He placed their drinks on the table before pulling her to him. His fingers trailed through her hair. “So beautiful,” he murmured. His hand cupped her face, gently cradling it as his mouth placed warm kisses down her neck. Ginny let out a small moan of delight, and was just starting to relax into his ministrations when a house elf interrupted them.
“I is sorry, Master, but there is a matter that needs your attention, sir.”
Draco glared at the elf and apologised to Ginny. “I’ll be right back. Don’t . . . don’t go anywhere.”
She sighed and leaned back into the cushions, looking about the room. I could definitely get used to this, she thought. She picked up her drink and began perusing the bookshelves. She was about to pull down a dog eared copy of Machiavelli’s The Prince, when the wall without the bookshelves attracted her eye. There was something there. She could feel traces of magic, but it wasn’t immediately obvious. She abandoned the book and her drink and went to stand before the wall.
She wasn’t sure what made her do it.
Ginny took out her wand and performed the revealing spell that Draco had done at Nott’s home and at the Parkinsons. The wall vanished and what was behind it made her heart jump into her chest and waves of nausea overtake her.
It was her clock, her mother’s clock. The Weasley clock. It was intact, with all of her brothers, her mother, father, and even her own face smiling down on her from the hands. She couldn’t choke back the sob that erupted from her throat. It was here. It was safe. She was momentarily relieved.
Then she realized what it meant. Draco or his parents had stolen this from the Burrow and then they had destroyed her childhood home. Even if Draco hadn’t been the wizard to do all of that, he hadn’t returned it. At worst, he had effectively lied to her for the last four years. At best, he’d kept something enormously important from her, which equated to the same thing in her book. All bets were off. She was definitely returning this to its rightful owner as soon as she could.
She wiped her eyes and reluctantly returned the wall back to its solid form, before walking slowly to the sofa, sinking into its depths. She had so many feelings running about in her heart: confusion, disappointment, and even anger, but underneath that, she knew that she still cared for Draco. This, however, keeping this from her, had hurt her more deeply than anything else he could’ve done.
When Draco returned, she rose from her seat and smiled at him. “Thank you so much for a lovely evening. I really must be getting home. I’ll see you at the office Monday, alright?” She placed a quick peck on his cheek and left him looking dumfounded in the middle of his study.
***********************************************
Later that night, after she had put on her dark clothes and mask, Ginny quietly crept back in to Malfoy manor. If Draco meant anything by his threat to ‘be ready,’ it sure doesn’t show, she thought idly.
She made her way silently back down the twisting corridors to the study, and crossed immediately to the empty wall. Using the same spell she’d used earlier, she dissolved the wall that concealed the clock.
It was empty. The small alcove that had held her family’s most prized possession only a few short hours ago was completely empty. She let out a growl of frustration.
“Looking for something?”
She spun around to find Draco sitting in one of the chairs at the fireplace, cut glass tumbler in hand. He spoke softly.
“There were so many clues, and I never put them together. I didn’t want to believe it was you. Even when I saw the muddy boots in your flat, and that book on Ancient Egyptian wizards missing, I gave you the benefit of the doubt.” He stood and crossed the room to pour himself another drink. “But then the ‘thief’ knew how to beat the charms I cast at Pansy’s. You’re the only other person who knows those, apart from me and my father. You told me that Pansy said that the portrait was ‘cheeky’. You weren’t even there when she told me about it being taken. You know more about casting and re-casting wards than is strictly normal for an Auror. There were muddy boots in your flat the second time I was there, they had the same black mud on them that ruined your shoes when we were at Nott’s.”
He drank deeply before continuing. “And the Vance girl. I ran into her at your flat when I was picking you up for the Parkinsons’ ball. I didn’t want to believe it was you. I still don’t. ‘A small, talented wizard’,” he repeated, quoting himself from weeks earlier. “I just got the sex wrong. It was a witch.”
Ginny took off the mask she was wearing and shook out her hair. “Are you going to take me to the Ministry?” she asked.
“Take you to the Ministry? Why would I do that? I’m in love with you, you daft girl.”
Ginny shook her head and laughed mirthlessly. “Now that’s a ridiculous thing to say.”
He frowned. “Why is it ridiculous?”
“It’s your job to arrest criminals,” she replied. “I am a criminal. I tried to steal something from you. You have to arrest me.”
“No, I don’t. I resigned this afternoon. I sent in an owl before you arrived for the party this evening.”
“You did?” she asked breathily. “What did you do with the clock?” she asked in a small voice. “Please say you didn’t destroy it.”
“Destroy it?” he asked incredulously. “Do you think me a monster? There is a shortage of really fine timepieces in the world, and although that one doesn’t technically tell the time, it is dead useful. I’ve used it on several occasions. I used it once when you were kidnapped, if you recall, and again later when you got into that scrape with that rogue band of Death Eaters.”
“That’s how you found me,” she whispered softly.
“It’s not like I spied on you constantly, but it was comforting to me to be able to know where you were at all times, just to know that you were safe.”
“Where is the clock now?”
“I sent it to your parents after you left. Anonymously, of course. Hopefully with a better anti-tracking spell than you used the first time.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“So,” he put down his drink. “I’m ready for you to take me to the Ministry.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You’re an Auror. It’s your job to arrest criminals. I harboured stolen goods from the war, so I am a criminal.”
“I don’t see any stolen goods,” she said softly.
They looked at one another from across the room.
She broke the silence. “Don’t you want to know why I did it?”
He shrugged. “I assume for some noble purpose of returning things to their rightful owner? When Pansy told me the portrait was of Ravenclaw, I knew it couldn’t have been hers. And I saw that suit of armour you took from Theo’s. We sat right across from it, remember?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“So,” he began.
“So,” she replied.
He sat down on the sofa. “I can’t arrest you, and evidently you have no grounds to arrest me.”
She smiled slightly. “No, I don’t.”
“Then we are at an impasse.”
She moved across the room to sit beside him. “It appears as if we are.”
He took the mask from her hand and tossed it away. “I’ve never caught a thief before. I must say, it’s stimulating.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
She reached out and took his hand. “What will I do without you to bring me coffee in the mornings, Draco?”
He smiled at the use of his first name. “Oh, I still plan on bringing you coffee every morning, Ginny. Just not at the Ministry.” He kissed the back of her hand. “That is to say, if you’re agreeable.”
She leaned in to him and murmured, “Yes. Yes, I think I am agreeable. I’ll have to be. You’re the only man who knows how I like my coffee.”
He claimed her lips with a kiss, and they sat comfortably before the fire, silently glad for the nobly intended crimes that had brought them together.
The End.
Persephone33 is the author of 16 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 57 members. Members who liked Noble Intentions also liked 1545 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 57 members. Members who liked Noble Intentions also liked 1545 other stories.
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