Chapter 1: Of Post-Breakup Stages, Hard-Wired Purebloods, and Annoying Freckles
Ginny glared at Harry as he gave her that superior look. “I don’t see why I have to go. Can’t you send someone else? Someone who doesn’t know Draco Malfoy?”
“I don’t know why you’re so afraid to go. After all, he might choose you, and then you’ll have the husband you always wanted.”
Ginny and Harry were long past the awkward post-breakup stage, and far into the “I can’t believe you’re my boss and I hate that” stage. Well, that was Ginny’s, anyway. As for Harry, it was more along the lines of: “I can’t believe you broke up with me and now I’m going to punish you with my new-found power” stage.
Yes, Ginny had broken up with Harry because he wanted things from her that she didn’t want to give. In the end, she had realised he just wanted a housewife to wait for him to come home at 5.30, and she couldn’t fit that role. He became controlling–much to her displeasure. She wanted and needed to be her own person, not just one of Harry’s many accomplishments. In the end, she knew that the Harry she had been dating all those years was just a dream–just her first crush. She was dating the name, not the person. He might have been her first love, but not her lasting love. After all, he had changed since the Final Battle, gotten slightly more arrogant, and they definitely didn’t care for each other any more. All feelings were long past.
Harry being her immediate superior was not helping things. Now he was still controlling, but had every right to be. They argued all the time. Ginny was half-tempted to quit, but being an Auror had been her dream for years.
“Fudge off, Harry. Why are you being such a jerk today?”
“Don’t you know?”
She rolled her eyes. It was probably some anniversary they had, that she didn’t remember–
“It’s been two years today since we broke up–”
Yes, she was right. “Since I broke up with you,” Ginny clarified, her eyes flashing.
“That was entirely inappropriate.”
Ginny walked out the door.
“Stop! I order you to stop!” he yelled as she was about close the door. With a look of fury, she slammed it shut with all the force she could muster.
“Are you going to be civil today? I should have fired you for your behaviour yesterday.”
“Harry, why don’t we just agree to not talk about our personal history anymore,” Ginny sighed, tired of arguing.
“Fine,” he agreed, but didn’t look too happy about it. He seemed to get a perverse enjoyment of holding their past over her head at opportune moments.
“So what about this ball Malfoy’s having?”
He handed her an invitation. “This will get you in there easily. Hermione has agreed to Transfigure your appearance. We think it would be best if you took on the last name of Greengrass–”
“I’m pretty sure Daphne and Astoria would know I’m not related to them. They aren’t that thick.”
“They’re on holiday,” he sighed as if Ginny should know their whereabouts.
“Other people will know they don’t have another sister,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes again.
“Pretend to be a cousin. Trust me, it will work.”
“So I pretend to be a cousin, and all the purebloods feel so stupid about not knowing they had a cousin, none of them mention it, because none of them want to be thought of as ignorant of pureblood families?” Ginny asked in one breath.
“Exactly… But that actually wasn’t my idea. Would you believe Ron thought of that one?” He laughed.
“The only logic Ron has is the twisted kind… So what happens if I find Zabini.”
“Apparate immediately back here, where a few people will be waiting for you just in case. You’ll all Apparate back and take him. Of course, if you don’t find him I suppose you’re more than welcome to find a partner and just have a wonderful time. Maybe Hermione will make you a blonde. You are dismissed.” Harry’s voice was dry, emotionless. Sometimes Ginny couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t completely over her.
Not that it mattered. She couldn’t stand him.
Draco smirked as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was dressed even more impeccably than usual, with black dress robes made of the finest material. He was dressed for a ball of all things.
Bloody ball, he thought, exasperated still about the prospect. His family forced him into this ridiculous thing, because apparently he was getting too old to not be married and carrying on the Malfoy line–even though he was only twenty-two. As if he wanted some snivelling brats running around the manor anyway. The thought of a wife did not appeal to him, especially one found at one of these parties.
He’d been to events like this. All the women looked and acted exactly the same. It was mildly terrifying, actually. You’d think all their brains were connected somehow, like in one of those futuristic novels.
Any and all purebloods (excluding blood traitors, of course) were invited. He hadn’t even been able to get Pansy off the guest list. He absolutely loathed her, especially since everyone expected them to be married with about a hundred kids by the time they were eighteen. It had taken him ages to convince his parents otherwise.
Even though the war was over and the Dark Lord had died, the old prejudices still remained–for all that they put up the facade in front of Potter of loving Muggle-borns. Maybe there weren’t killing sprees anymore–except by a few, like Blaise–but the fact still remained that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy would rather see Draco with an idiot like Pansy than with a perfectly decent girl who might happen to have blood that couldn’t quite be considered as pure as others.
Not that Draco wanted a blood traitor or something like that. He shuddered at the thought.
After taking one last loathing look at his appearance, he drifted downstairs to the awaiting party.
“Oh, yeah, Hermione, I’m sure they would really believe that I have black hair. Have you seen my freckles? You don’t get those with black hair.”
Hermione stared at her companion’s now-frustrated face. “Well, I’m sorry you decided you had to take the Auror assignment that would take you traipsing to Draco Malfoy’s ball to look for Blaise Zabini.”
“That’s the only place we think he’ll be, Hermione. And I’m not exactly jumping for joy to see the ferret.”
“Well, now I have to do all this human Transfiguration to make sure you don’t look like a Weasley. You know you’re going to have to dance with him, since apparently it’s the Malfoy family tradition to dance with all the eligible unmarried women at their stupid parties when they force their kids to choose a partner.”
“When did you get so knowledgeable about their traditions, anyway?” Ginny asked, turning her face and looking in the mirror. “Can’t you get rid of these stupid freckles, Hermione?”
“I’ve been searching around, asking people. You know that his father choose Narcissa at one of these things.”
“Hm…” she said, not really listening. “I thought you were so amazing at Transfiguration. Why are they still here? Then I could have dark hair.”
Sighing, Hermione finally consented. “Ginny, I don’t know how long these spells will last. Probably only four hours or so… They haven’t been tested for long periods of time–”
“Oh, stop worrying, Hermione. I’ll definitely be out of there by midnight,” Ginny laughed, grinning at her freckle-less skin. “Can you make my hair a bit lighter? It looks funny so dark.”
A few spells and a change of dress later, Ginny was ready to Apparate.
“You’re going to have to change your first name you know,” Hermione added as she took one last look at her friend, just to make sure there was nothing telling in her appearance.
“To what?”
“Can’t you think of one?”
The newly-brunette Ginny examined herself in the mirror as she thought about it. Her skin was still milky, but without a single mark. Her nose was thinner, more aristocratic (the girls found it fitting), and her lips were slightly fuller. Her eyes were now hazel instead of brown. They didn’t want her face to look too unusual, so they left it at that. They tried to make her look a couple years younger, so that she could pass for a Slytherin who had been a few years below Draco–that way he wouldn’t have noticed her. She wore dress robes of the lightest blue, and they shimmered as she walked. For a joke that Ginny didn’t understand even after it was explained to her repeatedly, Hermione got her to wear glass slippers. They were charmed and very comfortable, despite the high heel. (“You have to be able to dance,” Hermione had hissed throughout her charm work.)
Pulling her attention back to her name instead of new look, she said, “What was that story you were telling me about?”
“Cinderella?”
“Yeah, I guess I’ll be Ella. How’s that?”
Hermione rolled her eyes, but there was a slight smile on her face nonetheless. “Fine. But I think you should go now. Make sure they don’t find out, and be careful if you find Blaise.”
“I think I can handle Zabini, Hermione.”
Blaise Zabini had decided that it would be amusing to go Muggle hunting every once in a while. The Ministry, however, did not find it humorous, and he had a one-way ticket to Azkaban the second they found him. Unfortunately, the little jerk was a bit hard to find, but the Auror department–grasping at straws–had figured he might be at Malfoy’s ball, because hadn’t they been good friends? No one was at all certain, but Ginny was sent just in case.
Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny’s self-confidence. “Fine, then I guess the only danger is Draco Malfoy falling in love with you.”
“No chance of that,” Ginny laughed right before she Apparated.
Ginny glared at Harry as he gave her that superior look. “I don’t see why I have to go. Can’t you send someone else? Someone who doesn’t know Draco Malfoy?”
“I don’t know why you’re so afraid to go. After all, he might choose you, and then you’ll have the husband you always wanted.”
Ginny and Harry were long past the awkward post-breakup stage, and far into the “I can’t believe you’re my boss and I hate that” stage. Well, that was Ginny’s, anyway. As for Harry, it was more along the lines of: “I can’t believe you broke up with me and now I’m going to punish you with my new-found power” stage.
Yes, Ginny had broken up with Harry because he wanted things from her that she didn’t want to give. In the end, she had realised he just wanted a housewife to wait for him to come home at 5.30, and she couldn’t fit that role. He became controlling–much to her displeasure. She wanted and needed to be her own person, not just one of Harry’s many accomplishments. In the end, she knew that the Harry she had been dating all those years was just a dream–just her first crush. She was dating the name, not the person. He might have been her first love, but not her lasting love. After all, he had changed since the Final Battle, gotten slightly more arrogant, and they definitely didn’t care for each other any more. All feelings were long past.
Harry being her immediate superior was not helping things. Now he was still controlling, but had every right to be. They argued all the time. Ginny was half-tempted to quit, but being an Auror had been her dream for years.
“Fudge off, Harry. Why are you being such a jerk today?”
“Don’t you know?”
She rolled her eyes. It was probably some anniversary they had, that she didn’t remember–
“It’s been two years today since we broke up–”
Yes, she was right. “Since I broke up with you,” Ginny clarified, her eyes flashing.
“That was entirely inappropriate.”
Ginny walked out the door.
“Stop! I order you to stop!” he yelled as she was about close the door. With a look of fury, she slammed it shut with all the force she could muster.
“Are you going to be civil today? I should have fired you for your behaviour yesterday.”
“Harry, why don’t we just agree to not talk about our personal history anymore,” Ginny sighed, tired of arguing.
“Fine,” he agreed, but didn’t look too happy about it. He seemed to get a perverse enjoyment of holding their past over her head at opportune moments.
“So what about this ball Malfoy’s having?”
He handed her an invitation. “This will get you in there easily. Hermione has agreed to Transfigure your appearance. We think it would be best if you took on the last name of Greengrass–”
“I’m pretty sure Daphne and Astoria would know I’m not related to them. They aren’t that thick.”
“They’re on holiday,” he sighed as if Ginny should know their whereabouts.
“Other people will know they don’t have another sister,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes again.
“Pretend to be a cousin. Trust me, it will work.”
“So I pretend to be a cousin, and all the purebloods feel so stupid about not knowing they had a cousin, none of them mention it, because none of them want to be thought of as ignorant of pureblood families?” Ginny asked in one breath.
“Exactly… But that actually wasn’t my idea. Would you believe Ron thought of that one?” He laughed.
“The only logic Ron has is the twisted kind… So what happens if I find Zabini.”
“Apparate immediately back here, where a few people will be waiting for you just in case. You’ll all Apparate back and take him. Of course, if you don’t find him I suppose you’re more than welcome to find a partner and just have a wonderful time. Maybe Hermione will make you a blonde. You are dismissed.” Harry’s voice was dry, emotionless. Sometimes Ginny couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t completely over her.
Not that it mattered. She couldn’t stand him.
Draco smirked as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was dressed even more impeccably than usual, with black dress robes made of the finest material. He was dressed for a ball of all things.
Bloody ball, he thought, exasperated still about the prospect. His family forced him into this ridiculous thing, because apparently he was getting too old to not be married and carrying on the Malfoy line–even though he was only twenty-two. As if he wanted some snivelling brats running around the manor anyway. The thought of a wife did not appeal to him, especially one found at one of these parties.
He’d been to events like this. All the women looked and acted exactly the same. It was mildly terrifying, actually. You’d think all their brains were connected somehow, like in one of those futuristic novels.
Any and all purebloods (excluding blood traitors, of course) were invited. He hadn’t even been able to get Pansy off the guest list. He absolutely loathed her, especially since everyone expected them to be married with about a hundred kids by the time they were eighteen. It had taken him ages to convince his parents otherwise.
Even though the war was over and the Dark Lord had died, the old prejudices still remained–for all that they put up the facade in front of Potter of loving Muggle-borns. Maybe there weren’t killing sprees anymore–except by a few, like Blaise–but the fact still remained that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy would rather see Draco with an idiot like Pansy than with a perfectly decent girl who might happen to have blood that couldn’t quite be considered as pure as others.
Not that Draco wanted a blood traitor or something like that. He shuddered at the thought.
After taking one last loathing look at his appearance, he drifted downstairs to the awaiting party.
“Oh, yeah, Hermione, I’m sure they would really believe that I have black hair. Have you seen my freckles? You don’t get those with black hair.”
Hermione stared at her companion’s now-frustrated face. “Well, I’m sorry you decided you had to take the Auror assignment that would take you traipsing to Draco Malfoy’s ball to look for Blaise Zabini.”
“That’s the only place we think he’ll be, Hermione. And I’m not exactly jumping for joy to see the ferret.”
“Well, now I have to do all this human Transfiguration to make sure you don’t look like a Weasley. You know you’re going to have to dance with him, since apparently it’s the Malfoy family tradition to dance with all the eligible unmarried women at their stupid parties when they force their kids to choose a partner.”
“When did you get so knowledgeable about their traditions, anyway?” Ginny asked, turning her face and looking in the mirror. “Can’t you get rid of these stupid freckles, Hermione?”
“I’ve been searching around, asking people. You know that his father choose Narcissa at one of these things.”
“Hm…” she said, not really listening. “I thought you were so amazing at Transfiguration. Why are they still here? Then I could have dark hair.”
Sighing, Hermione finally consented. “Ginny, I don’t know how long these spells will last. Probably only four hours or so… They haven’t been tested for long periods of time–”
“Oh, stop worrying, Hermione. I’ll definitely be out of there by midnight,” Ginny laughed, grinning at her freckle-less skin. “Can you make my hair a bit lighter? It looks funny so dark.”
A few spells and a change of dress later, Ginny was ready to Apparate.
“You’re going to have to change your first name you know,” Hermione added as she took one last look at her friend, just to make sure there was nothing telling in her appearance.
“To what?”
“Can’t you think of one?”
The newly-brunette Ginny examined herself in the mirror as she thought about it. Her skin was still milky, but without a single mark. Her nose was thinner, more aristocratic (the girls found it fitting), and her lips were slightly fuller. Her eyes were now hazel instead of brown. They didn’t want her face to look too unusual, so they left it at that. They tried to make her look a couple years younger, so that she could pass for a Slytherin who had been a few years below Draco–that way he wouldn’t have noticed her. She wore dress robes of the lightest blue, and they shimmered as she walked. For a joke that Ginny didn’t understand even after it was explained to her repeatedly, Hermione got her to wear glass slippers. They were charmed and very comfortable, despite the high heel. (“You have to be able to dance,” Hermione had hissed throughout her charm work.)
Pulling her attention back to her name instead of new look, she said, “What was that story you were telling me about?”
“Cinderella?”
“Yeah, I guess I’ll be Ella. How’s that?”
Hermione rolled her eyes, but there was a slight smile on her face nonetheless. “Fine. But I think you should go now. Make sure they don’t find out, and be careful if you find Blaise.”
“I think I can handle Zabini, Hermione.”
Blaise Zabini had decided that it would be amusing to go Muggle hunting every once in a while. The Ministry, however, did not find it humorous, and he had a one-way ticket to Azkaban the second they found him. Unfortunately, the little jerk was a bit hard to find, but the Auror department–grasping at straws–had figured he might be at Malfoy’s ball, because hadn’t they been good friends? No one was at all certain, but Ginny was sent just in case.
Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny’s self-confidence. “Fine, then I guess the only danger is Draco Malfoy falling in love with you.”
“No chance of that,” Ginny laughed right before she Apparated.
Leave a Review