“You’ve gone bloody mental,” Blaise said to Draco, as the two of them ran side-by-side on Muggle treadmills.
“It’s a free meal.” Draco adjusted the speed on his machine so that he was sprinting.
“With Potter and the Weasleys,” Blaise cried out, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.
“Ginny Weasley is tolerable,” Draco said defensively.
“You’re smitten, you git!” Blaise laughed at him, subsequently tripping on his feet and flying off the treadmill. He landed in a heap and scowled at a middle-aged Wizard laughing nearby.
Draco stopped his machine to help his friend up.
“Now who’s mental?” Draco smirked as he pulled Blaise to his feet.
“She’s betrothed, to Potter,” Blaise argued, straightening himself out. “You’re messing with something that’s going to get you nothing but trouble.”
“It’s only dinner, Blaise,” Draco said, sighing. He grabbed a towel and wiped away the sweat dripping down his face.
“No,” Blaise said seriously. “First, you’re saving her life, and then you’re playing all cute in the pool with the Weasley brats, and now dinner. I don’t think it’s going to end there.”
Draco wasn’t about to admit to his friend that he had indeed been thinking about the witch more than he should’ve been. He wasn’t sure what it was about her. She was an odd character who tended to babble and ramble more than was becoming of someone her stature. But then again, the Weasleys were new to high-society.
Perhaps it was because he found her company exhilarating. She was like a forbidden fruit, someone with whom he shouldn’t be consorting with. She was Potter’s fiancée, and given the size of the colossal rock on her finger, he’d clearly placed his mark upon her. As much as Draco had grown up over the years, it still brought him pleasure to irk his childhood rival.
Or maybe it was because she was stunning. She wasn’t a conventional beauty by any means. But she had a simple charm about her that captivated him. Her soft complexion was sprinkled with cinnamon-like freckles, her doe-like eyes brimming with passion that she’d been forced to contain over the years, and her red tresses were like waves of silk. Looking at her was like sitting in the presence of an angel. Not to mention, seeing her in a red bathing suit wasn’t too bad of an experience.
While everyone else gave him shifty looks, gossiped about him when they didn’t think he was within earshot, or simply ignored him like the Plague, Ginny seemed to stand him. Or, so he thought. She wasn’t nasty, nor did she fake pleasantries with him.
And then there was Teddy, the son of his estranged cousin. He’d only seen him once before, and that was shortly after the war when he’d just been a baby. He knew that Teddy and Andromeda were his only living relatives, but he felt nothing for them.
Draco had grown up in a home where their names had been forbidden. Having been an only child, he’d often gotten lonely. His mother had set up an innumerable amount of play dates for him, but sometimes he desired the presence of a sibling.
As per Malfoy tradition, he knew that his father had been an only child as well. So he’d asked his mother once if he had any cousins, and she’d dismissed him.
“You know very well that Aunt Bella and Uncle Rolf have no children,” she’d said, occupying herself with a book so as to not meet his eyes.
“But, isn’t there anyone else? Don’t you have another sib-”, Draco had tried.
He’d recalled the Black family tapestry he’d seen. Cygnus and Druella Black had three children, Bellatrix, Narcissa, and their middle child, whom Draco knew nothing of, not even a name. There had been no date of birth, or date of death, since his or her entire existence had been blasted off the tapestry.
“No,” his mother had said sharply. “And it would do you good to not bring this up again.”
This bothered Draco even more and he was determined to find out about the missing relative. It wasn’t until four years later that he’d discovered anything at all, and that had been by mere chance.
One year before Draco was to attend Hogwarts, his parents had gotten into an argument. They’d forgotten to perform a Silencio charm on their bedroom door, and Draco had been able to pick up pieces of their arguing.
“The school will teach him all about the Dark Arts,” his father was saying. “I’ll not have my son attend that rudimentary institution that Dumbledore calls a school.”
“Might I remind you that’s where we attended, Lucius?” his mother said, her voice high-pitched. “I won’t have my baby going off to school in Bulgaria. It’s much too far.”
His father let out a soft growl. “This is ridiculous. We have a chance for our son to learn from the best. Karkaroff has assured me that he’ll be admitted.”
“I don’t care!” His mother was now shouting. “He could’ve gotten into Mo Shu Xue Xiao, but he’s still going to Hogwarts.”
“This is so typical of you,” his father said thickly. “I shouldn’t have expected you to have said anything otherwise. After all, we’re talking about a school that mollycoddles Mudbloods, and your sister…”
His mother drew in a sharp breath and Draco heard the sound of a slap.
“How dare you!”
There was a momentary silence before he heard his father speak. “Narcissa, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. We’ll send Draco to Hogwarts.”
So Draco knew he had an aunt and something had happened with her regarding Mudbloods. He needed to know more, so he sought out the one person who he could
ask about such things – his grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy. The aging man had been ill for many years and his parents had told Draco to be prepared for him to die soon.
The summer before Draco left for Hogwarts for his first year, he approached the elder Malfoy at St. Mungo’s.
“Grandfather, may I ask you something?” The nurses had cast a shield around him so as to deflect the disease. But Draco still stood a few feet away from the old man.
Abraxas Malfoy had been a grumpy, short-tempered man. Draco had often seen him chiding his father, and the much taller Lucius Malfoy would hang his head low, cowering in fear. However, his grandfather had done nothing but dote on Draco. He’d constantly showered him with gifts, allowed him to get away with things, and told him embarrassing stories about his father’s childhood. He’d tell Draco about the importance of blood purity and family.
“Yes, my child, go ahead,” his grandfather said, smiling weakly.
“I wanted to know about my family…er, well, the Blacks to be more specific,” Draco began, studying his grandfather’s face.
The old man seemed to stiffen, but he straightened himself to an upright position on his bed. “What brings on this curiosity?”
“I just wanted to know,” Draco said. “And Mother refuses to tell me anything.”
His grandfather smiled to himself. “That mother of yours is one stubborn woman. Did I ever tell you she refused your father’s marriage proposals twice before accepting?”
“Er…no, you didn’t,” Draco said. Well that was interesting…but he’d ask about that at another time. “But what of the sister that’s been blasted off the Black tapestry?”
The solemn expression returned to his grandfather’s face. “Your mother would kill me for telling you this, but I suppose I’m dying anyway.”
Draco winced slightly at his words.
“Andromeda,” his grandfather said. “She is your mother’s middle sister.”
“W-what?” Draco asked, bewildered by the response.
“She married a Muggle-born, you see, and that wasn’t taken very well,” his grandfather said darkly.
“Oh,” was the only thing Draco could muster.
“So she was banished from the family, as she so deserved,” he said.
“Where is she?”
His grandfather stared at him for a moment. “Draco, it would do you no good to dwell on these things. She’s been blasted off the family tree for a reason. We don’t associate with those types.”
“But I just want to know,” Draco said.
“I don’t know where she is. She’s still married to that Mudblood, I assume. They had a child, Nymphadora. That is all I know.”
Draco felt his heart soar. He had a cousin.
“But I meant what I said. Leave it be. And do not repeat what I said,” his grandfather said seriously.
Draco nodded and bid his grandfather goodbye. He never got a chance to ask him about his parents’ marriage, as Abraxas Malfoy died six months later.
After the disaster with Professor Quirrell at the end of Draco’s first year at Hogwarts, the Malfoys began to prepare for the possibility of the return of the Dark Lord. There was increased anti-sentiment for Mudbloods and blood traitors. And Draco’s dreams of having the family he’d always wanted waned with this new fervor. His aunt had been a blood traitor, having married a filthy Muggle-born. His parents had been justified in wanting to have nothing to do with bad apple of the family.
He saw his cousin Nymphadora for the first time during his sixth year at school. There was increased security at Hogwarts, and Aurors had been employed for the students’ protection. They’d passed each other in a hallway at school once and glanced at each other momentarily before he forced himself to look away, his boyhood arrogance overpowering his desire for family. But he couldn’t help but notice the faint facial similarities they both carried. She had the same high cheekbones and pointed chin as he.
It made him think – if his grandfather had emphasized the significance of family and blood purity, what did one do when the two came into conflict with one another? Did one have to choose which was more important?
This question had haunted Draco during his last two years in school. He didn’t find the answer until the after the final battle – that family did indeed supersede blood purity.
And now that he was left with no family, save for two individuals with whom he’d been forbidden to associate with, he was conflicted once again.
Teddy reminded Draco of himself as a child, stubborn, outspoken, and yearning for family. But Draco didn’t have the faintest idea on how to handle the situation. He wasn’t good with children, for one thing. And he couldn’t just pretend the feud had never occurred, could he?
Draco and Blaise left the gym and began to head back towards their cabin.
“Malfoy!” a voice called out after him.
The two of them turned around. Draco recognized the tall, red-haired man as a Weasley. He couldn’t pinpoint which one it was, seeing as how there were so many. He was a bit more built than the rest of them and had long hair, much like Draco’s currently.
The Weasley caught up with them.
Upon closer inspection Draco could see that this one had the unique distinction of two large and jagged scars across his face.
He’d heard about this Weasley. Fenrir Greyback had gotten to him during the first battle at Hogwarts. Draco felt a pang of guilt.
“So you’re to be dining with my family tonight?” the Weasley asked. He didn’t look friendly by any means, but he didn’t look hostile either.
“Yes,” Draco replied.
“Do you have anything to wear?”
For a moment, Draco fondly recalled his large walk-in closet at Malfoy Manor that contained numerous custom-made dress robes.
“No.”
“Well,” the Weasley said, “Ginny has requested that I lend you something.”
“Oh, right,” Draco said.
“Come with me,” the Weasley said, turning around.
Blaise shot Draco a look, but he waved him off.
They walked in silence, taking the lift to the Upper Deck. The cabin was empty, much to Draco’s relief, as he didn’t want to have to deal with more than one Weasley at a time, especially since this one was intimidating as is.
The room, or rather suite, was spacious and elaborately decorated. The Weasley crossed the sitting area and beckoned Draco to follow him into a bedroom.
Given the female amenities neatly arranged across the dresser, Draco figured the Weasley was married. Perhaps this is the one that had married Fleur Delacour.
The Weasley swung open the doors to a large armoire, revealing several dress robes.
“Take your pick,” he said, stepping aside for Draco to access.
Draco felt his face grow hot. It was one thing to face your poverty, but it was another thing entirely to face it in the presence of a stranger. This seemingly simple task of selecting a set of dress robes to borrow for one evening was too humiliating for him.
Draco closed his eyes and envisioned his old closet once again, picturing the rows and rows of neatly pressed dress robes on hangers. There were all sorts of colors and fabrics, navy blue, pinstriped gray, midnight black, emerald and olive greens…
“Look, I know this is a bit awkward,” the Weasley said, interrupting his thoughts. “Try this one.” He handed Draco a set of charcoal gray dress robes.
Draco took them quietly. They really were a smart set of robes. Even still, he’d be wearing someone else’s.
“There’s a bathroom behind that door,” the Weasley said.
Draco took the robes and entered the bathroom. He dressed quickly and stared at his reflection in the mirror. They fit rather well, considering he wasn’t nearly as tall as the wizard who owned the robes. He actually looked quite nice.
He emerged from the bathroom and found that the Weasley was no longer alone. He’d been right, as Fleur sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing him with interest. Her very pregnant belly swelled in front of her.
Draco was a little embarrassed by her presence.
“Oh, Malfoy,” Fleur said, her French accent still thick. “You look so very handsome in deez robes.”
She turned to look at her husband. “Bill, please say you’ll let him keep them!”
Bill laughed nervously. “Well, Malfoy, I must say you clean up nicely. It’s a shame those robes don’t fit me anymore. Why don’t you keep them?”
Draco knew that the two were being kind, and hadn’t meant to offend him, but he felt that being offered charity was worse than borrowing something.
“I couldn’t do that,” he said. “Thank you for allowing me to borrow these tonight. I’ll have them returned to you.”
Fleur shook her head. “No, you must take zem! Bill has grown…how you say…a little ‘eavy?” She playfully slapped a hand against Bill’s abdomen.
She rose to her feet and Bill gave her his hand to steady her. She placed a hand against her back as she walked towards Draco, stopping directly in front of him.
Draco felt lightheaded for a short moment. He recalled just how much effect this woman had on all the young wizards at Hogwarts all those years ago.
Her pale blonde hair, much like Draco’s, was tucked neatly behind her head in a chignon, a few loose tendrils framing her thin face. Her deep blue eyes bore into his and he fought the urge to lose himself in them.
“You must keep them, please,” she said, smiling at him.
He nodded slowly, unable to do much anything else.
“I’m afraid I can’t help you with shoes,” Draco heard Bill say.
Draco blinked, remembering that there was a third person in the room. Fleur moved away from him.
“Oh, that’s quite all right, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Draco said. “Thank you.”
He returned to his own cabin to find Blaise taking a nap. His friend snorted awake once the door closed behind Draco.
“Well look at you! In Weasley threads,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Not bad, my friend.”
“I’m wearing your dragon hide boots,” Draco said, rummaging through their shared closet.
“You need to do something with your hair, mate,” Blaise said.
Draco turned to stare at him. “What’s wrong with it?”
“You look…scruffy.”
“Well, I’m not cutting it shorter.”
“No, but do something. Here…” Blaise jumped off his bed and pulled out his wand. He pointed it at Draco’s head.
“Now hang on a second, what do you think you’re-”
Blue tufts of smoke tingled at his scalp. Draco blinked at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was still long, but the boyhood sheen he hadn’t seen in many years had returned. He fingered his ponytail. It now looked and felt feather light.
Draco smirked at Blaise. “Queer.”
Blaise shook his head at him. “You’d better going, it’s quarter ‘til seven. Be sure you’re home by midnight, or that glossy hair will vanish.”
Draco made a face at Blaise and took one last look in the mirror. He looked…nice. In fact, he didn’t look like the poverty-stricken ex-convict anymore. He looked more like his old self. He knew his mother would be proud if she could see him now. She’d say that he looked just like his father.
He headed towards the grand dining room and followed the other wizards and witches wearing smart dress robes. Some of them looked at him, and once recognition dawned on them, they turned to whisper to each other.
He descended a large marble staircase, casually looking about. It was rather nice.
There was a wizard playing a piano near the foot of the staircase, and waiters and waitresses bustled about, offering drinks to guests.
He shifted awkwardly, waiting for any sign of a Weasley. He was beginning to become annoyed by all the staring.
And then he saw Potter begin to climb down the stairs, his arm linked with the Weasley matriarch. Right behind them was Ginny.
His mouth dropped slightly as he watched her gather her fancy blue dress robes to descend the stairs. The corset was form fitting, and the rest of the robes billowed out at her waist. Her hair was pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a simple diamond pendant around her neck.
He couldn’t help but to smile at her frazzled expression as she struggled to stay upright in her obviously uncomfortable robes. Once she was halfway down the stairs, she took notice of him.
She smiled, taking a delicate hand to brush a few loose strands of her out of her eyes.
She was beautiful. Maybe Blaise was right, maybe he was smitten.
“Draco,” Ginny greeted him.
“Ginny,” he said, nodding. He took her hand and lightly brushed his lips against it, bowing slightly. Her face flushed in response.
“Shall we?” he asked, extending his arm to her. She took it willingly. Her grip was gentle and comforting, especially in a room full of unfriendly strangers.
As they headed towards the dining room, he noticed people staring at them wide-eyed. He expected her to become self-conscious and pull away from him. He suddenly realized how damaging this must be for her – for the great Harry Potter’s fiancée to walk in with the incorrigible Malfoy, who’d just been released from Azkaban no less.
Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should’ve stayed in with Blaise tonight instead of getting dressed up and pretending he was something he was no more.
He was startled when he felt her pull him closer to her.
“Those vultures,” she whispered to him, laughing. “This will certainly give them something to talk about.” She raised her chin haughtily and the two of them entered the dining room.
They approached a table of Weasleys.
Potter and Molly Weasley had just arrived as well, and he was helping her into a chair. They both stopped when they noticed Draco and Ginny.
All of Draco’s doubts in attending this evening disappeared as he noticed Potter’s reaction. His mouth hung open at he stared first at Draco, and then at Ginny’s arm in his.
Molly fumbled back to her feet and Draco stepped aside. She took her daughter’s hands and twirled her around.
“You look absolutely gorgeous, Ginny,” Molly said.
“Oh, Mum, you said this when I was getting ready with you,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes, but clearly flattered at the same time.
Draco didn’t think it was possible for a woman to gush so much. The interaction between mother and daughter made him feel awkward and out of place.
“Oh my,” Molly said, suddenly turning to look at Draco. “Don’t you look handsome. I’m so glad you could join us.”
Draco thought he hadn’t heard her correctly. Did she just pay him a compliment?
“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” he said, bowing slightly. “The pleasure is all mine.”
“And so charming,” she said, beaming at him.
Draco caught Ginny’s eye, who was smirking at him. Harry on the other hand looked livid.
They all took a seat and Draco found himself sitting in-between Arthur and Charlie Weasley. The Weasley patriarch barely spoke a word to Draco, but he reassured himself that it had more to do with the fact that the Minister was sitting on his other side. However, he found that Charlie was quite amicable.
“So Draco, what is it that you do nowadays?” Charlie asked him.
Draco pretended to be preoccupied with his Yorkshire Pudding as he formulated a response. He’d been asked this before, but there was no way to spin his current disposition into something glamorous.
“I’m working on different investments right now,” he said casually, hoping that the ambiguity of his response would keep Charlie at bay.
“Oh, that’s good,” Charlie said.
“I hear that you work with dragons?” Draco asked.
“Yes, I was in Romania for quite some time, but I’m now traveling between Scotland and Norway.”
Ginny sat across from him and she would make ridiculous faces at him when no one was watching. Potter sat next to her, and although Draco did his best to avoid looking in his direction, he seemed to be consistently glaring daggers at him.
And whenever Ginny wasn’t watching, Draco couldn’t help but to stare at her, marveling at how her skin glowed, or how her eyes danced with amusement as she laughed with the sister-in-law seated on her other side.
He also couldn’t tear his eyes away whenever Potter would lean in to whisper something into her ear, placing a hand against her back as he did so. At one point, Potter positioned his hand on top of hers, gently rubbing her fingers. It disturbed him to find his own hands balling into fists at the site of this. The two of them were engaged to be married, why should a harmless and endearing gesture bother him?
After dinner the guests rose to dance. Draco watched as Harry offered his hand to Ginny, lifting her to her feet. The two of them disappeared among the many couples.
“I’m unattached as well,” Charlie said. “But that doesn’t mean a man can’t enjoy dancing with the beautiful single women.” He rose to his feet. “Here, let me introduce you to someone.”
Draco moved slowly behind Charlie as they approached two blonde witches, seated at a table not too far from theirs.
“Draco, this is Miss Amber and Daphne Greengrass,” Charlie said.
Draco took Amber’s hand and lightly brushed his lips against it. “Nice to meet you.”
“Charmed,” she said, but her eyes were on Charlie as she gave him a devilish grin.
Daphne smirked at him, as he did the same with her. “Malfoy, you rascal,” she teased. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“Hoping you’d grace me with a dance,” he said, returning her smirk.
“Of course,” she said, allowing him to pull her to her feet.
They moved towards the dance floor, one hand on her waist, and the other gripping her hand gently.
“How many sisters do you have?” he asked her.
“Five. Astoria and I are the youngest,” Daphne said.
They danced gracefully, as Draco took the lead with Daphne matching each of his steps. They must’ve looked like quite the pair, as some people stopped to stare at them.
“You’ve still got it in you,” Daphne said. “Always the charismatic dancer.”
“You’re not too bad yourself,” Draco said. “So tell me, why hasn’t a handsome, rich wizard whisked you off your feet yet?”
Daphne laughed, her blue eyes sparkling against her white dress robes. “I break too many hearts to settle down, Draco. You should know that.”
The two had briefly dated at school until they found that they were much too similar. There was only enough room for one narcissistic and short-tempered personality.
He enjoyed her company. She hadn’t changed much over the years. She was still as beautiful and cynical as ever. They danced for two songs before she disappeared to entertain herself with other eager men.
Draco noticed that Potter was now dancing with Gabrielle Delacour. He wondered where Ginny had gone.
“I was wondering when you’d become free for a dance.”
He turned around to see Ginny standing before him. Her face was slightly flushed from dancing.
He gave her a small smile. “May I have this dance?”
She nodded, and he took her hand as they moved amidst the other dancing people.
“I’m impressed,” Draco said, placing a hand against the small of her back as they danced. “You dance very well.”
“Well that’s no good,” she said. “Weasleys aren’t supposed to be cultured and refined.”
“I didn’t mean to-”
“Malfoy, it was a joke,” she said, laughing. “Lighten up.”
He breathed a sigh of relief.
“You aren’t so bad yourself. In fact, you look quite nice tonight,” she said, meeting his gaze for a moment before looking away quickly. “Are these robes new?”
Draco blinked at her. Was she teasing him? After all, she’d been the one to send Bill after him.
“They’re very nice,” she mused, allowing a hand to run across one of his sleeves. “They bring out your eyes.”
“Thank you,” he said. “And if I may say so, you really do look beautiful tonight.”
She blushed. “Look at us, a Malfoy and a Weasley making nice with one another.”
“Why do we still have to be defined by our family names? I’m Draco and you’re Ginny. That’s all that matters.”
Ginny stared at him with a peculiar expression on her face. Her eyes bore into his and he saw that controlled emotion burning behind her gaze. He pulled her closer to him so that their bodies were almost touching. She smelled like freshly bloomed orchids.
“These dances are an awful bore,” she said, looking away from him once again.
He smirked. “Let’s get away.”
“What?” she asked, her eyes meeting his again. “I-I don’t know.”
“Come on,” he urged. “Trust me.”
“Okay.”
They looked about each other, making sure no one was watching them. He took her hand in his and darted out of the dining hall, ascending the stairs two at a time.
She giggled as he tugged her behind him. “This is all so sneaky. Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he said.
“Draco,” she said, her breathing slightly rapid, “I think there’s someone following us.”
He turned around to see a shadowy figure trailing behind them.
For a moment he thought that their rendezvous would have to end and she’d return to her world, and he to his.
“Go, go!” she cried, her hands gently pressing him forward.
They began to hurry down a corridor unfamiliar to Draco. They passed by several cabins.
His heart was racing at the thrill of the situation. He could hear their jagged breathing and the sound of their shoes thumping against the floor. The doors of all the cabins became one blurred image.
“In here,” she said, pulling him towards a narrow hallway.
They passed by several Emergency Floo Networks. At the end of the hallway was a door.
Ginny took out her wand. “Alohomora!”
The door opened with a soft click. They hurried inside, slamming it shut behind them. They were in a dark stairwell.
“Where does this go?” he asked.
“The Lower Deck,” she said.
The clambered down the stairs and sure enough, once they’d reached the bottom, they were in the Lower Deck lobby.
They stopped to catch their breath.
“Well, that was something,” Ginny said, laughing. Her hair had now fallen loose into soft waves and framed her heart-shaped face.
“Well, this is where I was going to bring you any how,” Draco said, smoothing out his robes.
He took her hand and the two of them made their way towards a double door entranceway.
“What is this place?” she asked. He felt her squeeze his hand tightly.
“It’s a night club where us po’ folk entertain ourselves,” he said.
As soon as they walked through the doors, the sound of lively music engulfed them. The club was spacious and dimly lit. A bar was situated in the middle, where many people were gathered. Just beyond the bar was a dance floor, complete with flashy lights and smoke, for a dramatic effect.
She clung to his arm as they made their way through the nightclub.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked her, leaning into her ear so she could hear him over the music.
“No, I’m all right for now,” she said.
They stood at the edge of the dance floor, watching dozens and dozens of people gyrating to the music.
“I don’t know about this, Draco,” she said. “I’ve never danced like that.”
“It’ll be fun,” he reassured her. “It’s much better than ballroom dancing.” He pulled her onto the dance floor, keeping her close.
He shifted a little, attempting to get the rhythm, all the while, keeping his gaze on her. She bit her lip in hesitation, watching his footwork.
“Here,” he said, pulling her against him. He placed his hands on her waist. “Is this all right?”
“N-no…yes…it’s all right,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes.
He guided her body so that her movements met his. She was stiff and rigid at first, but eventually she let her guard down. She laughed as he twirled her around, dipping her low and bringing his face a mere inch away from hers. Her eyes widened and he noticed her breath catch in her throat as she held onto him.
As the music began to pick up, the entire room was jumping. It was difficult to see with the number of people surrounding them, the blinding lights, and the smoke that encircled them.
Ginny had gotten the hang of things and was now moving her hips against Draco’s. She was waving her arms about her, a smile on her face as she sang along to the lyrics with the rest of the crowd.
He slid a hand down her back, stopping it dangerously low. He liked how soft her body was, and how it felt against his again. The heat emanating from her sent chills down his spine. He leaned in slightly so that her chest was barely touching his.
She twirled herself around so that her back was against his chest. She took his hands and placed them on her own hips. He gently assuaged her body through the silky fabric of her robes. She placed her hands on his, encouraging him.
For a moment Ginny turned her face to look up at him. Their eyes locked and Draco saw a deep emotion in her eyes that he couldn’t read. Her hair now clung to her face with sweat. She was breathing rapidly. Her makeup had run dry and was replaced with a pinkish glow. But Draco thought she’d never looked better. She looked free.
His heart thudded against his chest and the music sounded faraway…the dancing people became fuzzy patterns of light. He could feel his own sweat dripping down his neck. He could hear her breathing quicken and feel her body heave against his own. She was so soft…so lithe. Her closeness to him was intoxicating.
Her lips parted ever so slightly. He leaned in, attempting to close the gap between them. She closed her eyes, anticipating their contact.
But Draco thought of the numerous Weasleys who’d been cordial with him during dinner. He thought of Bill who’d merely used Ginny as an excuse to offer Draco something to wear. He thought of Molly who’d told him he looked nice when other people had given him shifty glances. He thought of Charlie who’d talked to him about all sorts of things, no questions asked, making Draco feel like a normal person.
And then he thought of the girl in his arms, so willing for Draco to kiss her. She was so beautiful, so full of energy. He was a fool, but he couldn’t seem to do it.
He released Ginny and her eyes flew open in surprise.
Draco gave her a small smile. “It’s getting a bit late. I think your family will begin to worry.”
Her eyes darkened. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think of that when we left the dining hall in the first place.”
“Ginny,” he said, softly, unsure if she could hear him over the music. He cupped the side of her face, running his fingers gently through her hair.
He felt her shiver slightly and her expression relaxed. “Let’s go.”
They barely spoke a word to each other as he walked her back to her cabin. When they approached her door, he waited as she pulled out her key.
“Draco, I-” she began to speak, but faltered, as if trying to formulate the right words.
“Thank you for having me for dinner. It was lovely,” he said quickly, nodding slightly.
She blinked at him, her expression unreadable. “Oh, Draco,” she said, a trace of sadness in her voice. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“I beg your pardon?” he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.
“Treat me as the others do.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I know.”
There was an awkward silence between them.
His racing heart had not skipped a beat since their almost kiss in the nightclub. He waited for her to place her hand on her doorknob, signaling that the night was truly over. But she didn’t.
“Goodnight,” he said, desperate to end the deafening quiet that had settled between them. He knew what she wanted, because that was what he wanted as well. He took a step back.
A wave of disappointment spread across her face. She nodded. “Goodnight.” Her hand finally touched the doorknob and she let herself in, shutting the door without another look at him.
“It’s a free meal.” Draco adjusted the speed on his machine so that he was sprinting.
“With Potter and the Weasleys,” Blaise cried out, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.
“Ginny Weasley is tolerable,” Draco said defensively.
“You’re smitten, you git!” Blaise laughed at him, subsequently tripping on his feet and flying off the treadmill. He landed in a heap and scowled at a middle-aged Wizard laughing nearby.
Draco stopped his machine to help his friend up.
“Now who’s mental?” Draco smirked as he pulled Blaise to his feet.
“She’s betrothed, to Potter,” Blaise argued, straightening himself out. “You’re messing with something that’s going to get you nothing but trouble.”
“It’s only dinner, Blaise,” Draco said, sighing. He grabbed a towel and wiped away the sweat dripping down his face.
“No,” Blaise said seriously. “First, you’re saving her life, and then you’re playing all cute in the pool with the Weasley brats, and now dinner. I don’t think it’s going to end there.”
Draco wasn’t about to admit to his friend that he had indeed been thinking about the witch more than he should’ve been. He wasn’t sure what it was about her. She was an odd character who tended to babble and ramble more than was becoming of someone her stature. But then again, the Weasleys were new to high-society.
Perhaps it was because he found her company exhilarating. She was like a forbidden fruit, someone with whom he shouldn’t be consorting with. She was Potter’s fiancée, and given the size of the colossal rock on her finger, he’d clearly placed his mark upon her. As much as Draco had grown up over the years, it still brought him pleasure to irk his childhood rival.
Or maybe it was because she was stunning. She wasn’t a conventional beauty by any means. But she had a simple charm about her that captivated him. Her soft complexion was sprinkled with cinnamon-like freckles, her doe-like eyes brimming with passion that she’d been forced to contain over the years, and her red tresses were like waves of silk. Looking at her was like sitting in the presence of an angel. Not to mention, seeing her in a red bathing suit wasn’t too bad of an experience.
While everyone else gave him shifty looks, gossiped about him when they didn’t think he was within earshot, or simply ignored him like the Plague, Ginny seemed to stand him. Or, so he thought. She wasn’t nasty, nor did she fake pleasantries with him.
And then there was Teddy, the son of his estranged cousin. He’d only seen him once before, and that was shortly after the war when he’d just been a baby. He knew that Teddy and Andromeda were his only living relatives, but he felt nothing for them.
Draco had grown up in a home where their names had been forbidden. Having been an only child, he’d often gotten lonely. His mother had set up an innumerable amount of play dates for him, but sometimes he desired the presence of a sibling.
As per Malfoy tradition, he knew that his father had been an only child as well. So he’d asked his mother once if he had any cousins, and she’d dismissed him.
“You know very well that Aunt Bella and Uncle Rolf have no children,” she’d said, occupying herself with a book so as to not meet his eyes.
“But, isn’t there anyone else? Don’t you have another sib-”, Draco had tried.
He’d recalled the Black family tapestry he’d seen. Cygnus and Druella Black had three children, Bellatrix, Narcissa, and their middle child, whom Draco knew nothing of, not even a name. There had been no date of birth, or date of death, since his or her entire existence had been blasted off the tapestry.
“No,” his mother had said sharply. “And it would do you good to not bring this up again.”
This bothered Draco even more and he was determined to find out about the missing relative. It wasn’t until four years later that he’d discovered anything at all, and that had been by mere chance.
One year before Draco was to attend Hogwarts, his parents had gotten into an argument. They’d forgotten to perform a Silencio charm on their bedroom door, and Draco had been able to pick up pieces of their arguing.
“The school will teach him all about the Dark Arts,” his father was saying. “I’ll not have my son attend that rudimentary institution that Dumbledore calls a school.”
“Might I remind you that’s where we attended, Lucius?” his mother said, her voice high-pitched. “I won’t have my baby going off to school in Bulgaria. It’s much too far.”
His father let out a soft growl. “This is ridiculous. We have a chance for our son to learn from the best. Karkaroff has assured me that he’ll be admitted.”
“I don’t care!” His mother was now shouting. “He could’ve gotten into Mo Shu Xue Xiao, but he’s still going to Hogwarts.”
“This is so typical of you,” his father said thickly. “I shouldn’t have expected you to have said anything otherwise. After all, we’re talking about a school that mollycoddles Mudbloods, and your sister…”
His mother drew in a sharp breath and Draco heard the sound of a slap.
“How dare you!”
There was a momentary silence before he heard his father speak. “Narcissa, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. We’ll send Draco to Hogwarts.”
So Draco knew he had an aunt and something had happened with her regarding Mudbloods. He needed to know more, so he sought out the one person who he could
ask about such things – his grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy. The aging man had been ill for many years and his parents had told Draco to be prepared for him to die soon.
The summer before Draco left for Hogwarts for his first year, he approached the elder Malfoy at St. Mungo’s.
“Grandfather, may I ask you something?” The nurses had cast a shield around him so as to deflect the disease. But Draco still stood a few feet away from the old man.
Abraxas Malfoy had been a grumpy, short-tempered man. Draco had often seen him chiding his father, and the much taller Lucius Malfoy would hang his head low, cowering in fear. However, his grandfather had done nothing but dote on Draco. He’d constantly showered him with gifts, allowed him to get away with things, and told him embarrassing stories about his father’s childhood. He’d tell Draco about the importance of blood purity and family.
“Yes, my child, go ahead,” his grandfather said, smiling weakly.
“I wanted to know about my family…er, well, the Blacks to be more specific,” Draco began, studying his grandfather’s face.
The old man seemed to stiffen, but he straightened himself to an upright position on his bed. “What brings on this curiosity?”
“I just wanted to know,” Draco said. “And Mother refuses to tell me anything.”
His grandfather smiled to himself. “That mother of yours is one stubborn woman. Did I ever tell you she refused your father’s marriage proposals twice before accepting?”
“Er…no, you didn’t,” Draco said. Well that was interesting…but he’d ask about that at another time. “But what of the sister that’s been blasted off the Black tapestry?”
The solemn expression returned to his grandfather’s face. “Your mother would kill me for telling you this, but I suppose I’m dying anyway.”
Draco winced slightly at his words.
“Andromeda,” his grandfather said. “She is your mother’s middle sister.”
“W-what?” Draco asked, bewildered by the response.
“She married a Muggle-born, you see, and that wasn’t taken very well,” his grandfather said darkly.
“Oh,” was the only thing Draco could muster.
“So she was banished from the family, as she so deserved,” he said.
“Where is she?”
His grandfather stared at him for a moment. “Draco, it would do you no good to dwell on these things. She’s been blasted off the family tree for a reason. We don’t associate with those types.”
“But I just want to know,” Draco said.
“I don’t know where she is. She’s still married to that Mudblood, I assume. They had a child, Nymphadora. That is all I know.”
Draco felt his heart soar. He had a cousin.
“But I meant what I said. Leave it be. And do not repeat what I said,” his grandfather said seriously.
Draco nodded and bid his grandfather goodbye. He never got a chance to ask him about his parents’ marriage, as Abraxas Malfoy died six months later.
After the disaster with Professor Quirrell at the end of Draco’s first year at Hogwarts, the Malfoys began to prepare for the possibility of the return of the Dark Lord. There was increased anti-sentiment for Mudbloods and blood traitors. And Draco’s dreams of having the family he’d always wanted waned with this new fervor. His aunt had been a blood traitor, having married a filthy Muggle-born. His parents had been justified in wanting to have nothing to do with bad apple of the family.
He saw his cousin Nymphadora for the first time during his sixth year at school. There was increased security at Hogwarts, and Aurors had been employed for the students’ protection. They’d passed each other in a hallway at school once and glanced at each other momentarily before he forced himself to look away, his boyhood arrogance overpowering his desire for family. But he couldn’t help but notice the faint facial similarities they both carried. She had the same high cheekbones and pointed chin as he.
It made him think – if his grandfather had emphasized the significance of family and blood purity, what did one do when the two came into conflict with one another? Did one have to choose which was more important?
This question had haunted Draco during his last two years in school. He didn’t find the answer until the after the final battle – that family did indeed supersede blood purity.
And now that he was left with no family, save for two individuals with whom he’d been forbidden to associate with, he was conflicted once again.
Teddy reminded Draco of himself as a child, stubborn, outspoken, and yearning for family. But Draco didn’t have the faintest idea on how to handle the situation. He wasn’t good with children, for one thing. And he couldn’t just pretend the feud had never occurred, could he?
Draco and Blaise left the gym and began to head back towards their cabin.
“Malfoy!” a voice called out after him.
The two of them turned around. Draco recognized the tall, red-haired man as a Weasley. He couldn’t pinpoint which one it was, seeing as how there were so many. He was a bit more built than the rest of them and had long hair, much like Draco’s currently.
The Weasley caught up with them.
Upon closer inspection Draco could see that this one had the unique distinction of two large and jagged scars across his face.
He’d heard about this Weasley. Fenrir Greyback had gotten to him during the first battle at Hogwarts. Draco felt a pang of guilt.
“So you’re to be dining with my family tonight?” the Weasley asked. He didn’t look friendly by any means, but he didn’t look hostile either.
“Yes,” Draco replied.
“Do you have anything to wear?”
For a moment, Draco fondly recalled his large walk-in closet at Malfoy Manor that contained numerous custom-made dress robes.
“No.”
“Well,” the Weasley said, “Ginny has requested that I lend you something.”
“Oh, right,” Draco said.
“Come with me,” the Weasley said, turning around.
Blaise shot Draco a look, but he waved him off.
They walked in silence, taking the lift to the Upper Deck. The cabin was empty, much to Draco’s relief, as he didn’t want to have to deal with more than one Weasley at a time, especially since this one was intimidating as is.
The room, or rather suite, was spacious and elaborately decorated. The Weasley crossed the sitting area and beckoned Draco to follow him into a bedroom.
Given the female amenities neatly arranged across the dresser, Draco figured the Weasley was married. Perhaps this is the one that had married Fleur Delacour.
The Weasley swung open the doors to a large armoire, revealing several dress robes.
“Take your pick,” he said, stepping aside for Draco to access.
Draco felt his face grow hot. It was one thing to face your poverty, but it was another thing entirely to face it in the presence of a stranger. This seemingly simple task of selecting a set of dress robes to borrow for one evening was too humiliating for him.
Draco closed his eyes and envisioned his old closet once again, picturing the rows and rows of neatly pressed dress robes on hangers. There were all sorts of colors and fabrics, navy blue, pinstriped gray, midnight black, emerald and olive greens…
“Look, I know this is a bit awkward,” the Weasley said, interrupting his thoughts. “Try this one.” He handed Draco a set of charcoal gray dress robes.
Draco took them quietly. They really were a smart set of robes. Even still, he’d be wearing someone else’s.
“There’s a bathroom behind that door,” the Weasley said.
Draco took the robes and entered the bathroom. He dressed quickly and stared at his reflection in the mirror. They fit rather well, considering he wasn’t nearly as tall as the wizard who owned the robes. He actually looked quite nice.
He emerged from the bathroom and found that the Weasley was no longer alone. He’d been right, as Fleur sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing him with interest. Her very pregnant belly swelled in front of her.
Draco was a little embarrassed by her presence.
“Oh, Malfoy,” Fleur said, her French accent still thick. “You look so very handsome in deez robes.”
She turned to look at her husband. “Bill, please say you’ll let him keep them!”
Bill laughed nervously. “Well, Malfoy, I must say you clean up nicely. It’s a shame those robes don’t fit me anymore. Why don’t you keep them?”
Draco knew that the two were being kind, and hadn’t meant to offend him, but he felt that being offered charity was worse than borrowing something.
“I couldn’t do that,” he said. “Thank you for allowing me to borrow these tonight. I’ll have them returned to you.”
Fleur shook her head. “No, you must take zem! Bill has grown…how you say…a little ‘eavy?” She playfully slapped a hand against Bill’s abdomen.
She rose to her feet and Bill gave her his hand to steady her. She placed a hand against her back as she walked towards Draco, stopping directly in front of him.
Draco felt lightheaded for a short moment. He recalled just how much effect this woman had on all the young wizards at Hogwarts all those years ago.
Her pale blonde hair, much like Draco’s, was tucked neatly behind her head in a chignon, a few loose tendrils framing her thin face. Her deep blue eyes bore into his and he fought the urge to lose himself in them.
“You must keep them, please,” she said, smiling at him.
He nodded slowly, unable to do much anything else.
“I’m afraid I can’t help you with shoes,” Draco heard Bill say.
Draco blinked, remembering that there was a third person in the room. Fleur moved away from him.
“Oh, that’s quite all right, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Draco said. “Thank you.”
He returned to his own cabin to find Blaise taking a nap. His friend snorted awake once the door closed behind Draco.
“Well look at you! In Weasley threads,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Not bad, my friend.”
“I’m wearing your dragon hide boots,” Draco said, rummaging through their shared closet.
“You need to do something with your hair, mate,” Blaise said.
Draco turned to stare at him. “What’s wrong with it?”
“You look…scruffy.”
“Well, I’m not cutting it shorter.”
“No, but do something. Here…” Blaise jumped off his bed and pulled out his wand. He pointed it at Draco’s head.
“Now hang on a second, what do you think you’re-”
Blue tufts of smoke tingled at his scalp. Draco blinked at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was still long, but the boyhood sheen he hadn’t seen in many years had returned. He fingered his ponytail. It now looked and felt feather light.
Draco smirked at Blaise. “Queer.”
Blaise shook his head at him. “You’d better going, it’s quarter ‘til seven. Be sure you’re home by midnight, or that glossy hair will vanish.”
Draco made a face at Blaise and took one last look in the mirror. He looked…nice. In fact, he didn’t look like the poverty-stricken ex-convict anymore. He looked more like his old self. He knew his mother would be proud if she could see him now. She’d say that he looked just like his father.
He headed towards the grand dining room and followed the other wizards and witches wearing smart dress robes. Some of them looked at him, and once recognition dawned on them, they turned to whisper to each other.
He descended a large marble staircase, casually looking about. It was rather nice.
There was a wizard playing a piano near the foot of the staircase, and waiters and waitresses bustled about, offering drinks to guests.
He shifted awkwardly, waiting for any sign of a Weasley. He was beginning to become annoyed by all the staring.
And then he saw Potter begin to climb down the stairs, his arm linked with the Weasley matriarch. Right behind them was Ginny.
His mouth dropped slightly as he watched her gather her fancy blue dress robes to descend the stairs. The corset was form fitting, and the rest of the robes billowed out at her waist. Her hair was pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a simple diamond pendant around her neck.
He couldn’t help but to smile at her frazzled expression as she struggled to stay upright in her obviously uncomfortable robes. Once she was halfway down the stairs, she took notice of him.
She smiled, taking a delicate hand to brush a few loose strands of her out of her eyes.
She was beautiful. Maybe Blaise was right, maybe he was smitten.
“Draco,” Ginny greeted him.
“Ginny,” he said, nodding. He took her hand and lightly brushed his lips against it, bowing slightly. Her face flushed in response.
“Shall we?” he asked, extending his arm to her. She took it willingly. Her grip was gentle and comforting, especially in a room full of unfriendly strangers.
As they headed towards the dining room, he noticed people staring at them wide-eyed. He expected her to become self-conscious and pull away from him. He suddenly realized how damaging this must be for her – for the great Harry Potter’s fiancée to walk in with the incorrigible Malfoy, who’d just been released from Azkaban no less.
Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should’ve stayed in with Blaise tonight instead of getting dressed up and pretending he was something he was no more.
He was startled when he felt her pull him closer to her.
“Those vultures,” she whispered to him, laughing. “This will certainly give them something to talk about.” She raised her chin haughtily and the two of them entered the dining room.
They approached a table of Weasleys.
Potter and Molly Weasley had just arrived as well, and he was helping her into a chair. They both stopped when they noticed Draco and Ginny.
All of Draco’s doubts in attending this evening disappeared as he noticed Potter’s reaction. His mouth hung open at he stared first at Draco, and then at Ginny’s arm in his.
Molly fumbled back to her feet and Draco stepped aside. She took her daughter’s hands and twirled her around.
“You look absolutely gorgeous, Ginny,” Molly said.
“Oh, Mum, you said this when I was getting ready with you,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes, but clearly flattered at the same time.
Draco didn’t think it was possible for a woman to gush so much. The interaction between mother and daughter made him feel awkward and out of place.
“Oh my,” Molly said, suddenly turning to look at Draco. “Don’t you look handsome. I’m so glad you could join us.”
Draco thought he hadn’t heard her correctly. Did she just pay him a compliment?
“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” he said, bowing slightly. “The pleasure is all mine.”
“And so charming,” she said, beaming at him.
Draco caught Ginny’s eye, who was smirking at him. Harry on the other hand looked livid.
They all took a seat and Draco found himself sitting in-between Arthur and Charlie Weasley. The Weasley patriarch barely spoke a word to Draco, but he reassured himself that it had more to do with the fact that the Minister was sitting on his other side. However, he found that Charlie was quite amicable.
“So Draco, what is it that you do nowadays?” Charlie asked him.
Draco pretended to be preoccupied with his Yorkshire Pudding as he formulated a response. He’d been asked this before, but there was no way to spin his current disposition into something glamorous.
“I’m working on different investments right now,” he said casually, hoping that the ambiguity of his response would keep Charlie at bay.
“Oh, that’s good,” Charlie said.
“I hear that you work with dragons?” Draco asked.
“Yes, I was in Romania for quite some time, but I’m now traveling between Scotland and Norway.”
Ginny sat across from him and she would make ridiculous faces at him when no one was watching. Potter sat next to her, and although Draco did his best to avoid looking in his direction, he seemed to be consistently glaring daggers at him.
And whenever Ginny wasn’t watching, Draco couldn’t help but to stare at her, marveling at how her skin glowed, or how her eyes danced with amusement as she laughed with the sister-in-law seated on her other side.
He also couldn’t tear his eyes away whenever Potter would lean in to whisper something into her ear, placing a hand against her back as he did so. At one point, Potter positioned his hand on top of hers, gently rubbing her fingers. It disturbed him to find his own hands balling into fists at the site of this. The two of them were engaged to be married, why should a harmless and endearing gesture bother him?
After dinner the guests rose to dance. Draco watched as Harry offered his hand to Ginny, lifting her to her feet. The two of them disappeared among the many couples.
“I’m unattached as well,” Charlie said. “But that doesn’t mean a man can’t enjoy dancing with the beautiful single women.” He rose to his feet. “Here, let me introduce you to someone.”
Draco moved slowly behind Charlie as they approached two blonde witches, seated at a table not too far from theirs.
“Draco, this is Miss Amber and Daphne Greengrass,” Charlie said.
Draco took Amber’s hand and lightly brushed his lips against it. “Nice to meet you.”
“Charmed,” she said, but her eyes were on Charlie as she gave him a devilish grin.
Daphne smirked at him, as he did the same with her. “Malfoy, you rascal,” she teased. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“Hoping you’d grace me with a dance,” he said, returning her smirk.
“Of course,” she said, allowing him to pull her to her feet.
They moved towards the dance floor, one hand on her waist, and the other gripping her hand gently.
“How many sisters do you have?” he asked her.
“Five. Astoria and I are the youngest,” Daphne said.
They danced gracefully, as Draco took the lead with Daphne matching each of his steps. They must’ve looked like quite the pair, as some people stopped to stare at them.
“You’ve still got it in you,” Daphne said. “Always the charismatic dancer.”
“You’re not too bad yourself,” Draco said. “So tell me, why hasn’t a handsome, rich wizard whisked you off your feet yet?”
Daphne laughed, her blue eyes sparkling against her white dress robes. “I break too many hearts to settle down, Draco. You should know that.”
The two had briefly dated at school until they found that they were much too similar. There was only enough room for one narcissistic and short-tempered personality.
He enjoyed her company. She hadn’t changed much over the years. She was still as beautiful and cynical as ever. They danced for two songs before she disappeared to entertain herself with other eager men.
Draco noticed that Potter was now dancing with Gabrielle Delacour. He wondered where Ginny had gone.
“I was wondering when you’d become free for a dance.”
He turned around to see Ginny standing before him. Her face was slightly flushed from dancing.
He gave her a small smile. “May I have this dance?”
She nodded, and he took her hand as they moved amidst the other dancing people.
“I’m impressed,” Draco said, placing a hand against the small of her back as they danced. “You dance very well.”
“Well that’s no good,” she said. “Weasleys aren’t supposed to be cultured and refined.”
“I didn’t mean to-”
“Malfoy, it was a joke,” she said, laughing. “Lighten up.”
He breathed a sigh of relief.
“You aren’t so bad yourself. In fact, you look quite nice tonight,” she said, meeting his gaze for a moment before looking away quickly. “Are these robes new?”
Draco blinked at her. Was she teasing him? After all, she’d been the one to send Bill after him.
“They’re very nice,” she mused, allowing a hand to run across one of his sleeves. “They bring out your eyes.”
“Thank you,” he said. “And if I may say so, you really do look beautiful tonight.”
She blushed. “Look at us, a Malfoy and a Weasley making nice with one another.”
“Why do we still have to be defined by our family names? I’m Draco and you’re Ginny. That’s all that matters.”
Ginny stared at him with a peculiar expression on her face. Her eyes bore into his and he saw that controlled emotion burning behind her gaze. He pulled her closer to him so that their bodies were almost touching. She smelled like freshly bloomed orchids.
“These dances are an awful bore,” she said, looking away from him once again.
He smirked. “Let’s get away.”
“What?” she asked, her eyes meeting his again. “I-I don’t know.”
“Come on,” he urged. “Trust me.”
“Okay.”
They looked about each other, making sure no one was watching them. He took her hand in his and darted out of the dining hall, ascending the stairs two at a time.
She giggled as he tugged her behind him. “This is all so sneaky. Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he said.
“Draco,” she said, her breathing slightly rapid, “I think there’s someone following us.”
He turned around to see a shadowy figure trailing behind them.
For a moment he thought that their rendezvous would have to end and she’d return to her world, and he to his.
“Go, go!” she cried, her hands gently pressing him forward.
They began to hurry down a corridor unfamiliar to Draco. They passed by several cabins.
His heart was racing at the thrill of the situation. He could hear their jagged breathing and the sound of their shoes thumping against the floor. The doors of all the cabins became one blurred image.
“In here,” she said, pulling him towards a narrow hallway.
They passed by several Emergency Floo Networks. At the end of the hallway was a door.
Ginny took out her wand. “Alohomora!”
The door opened with a soft click. They hurried inside, slamming it shut behind them. They were in a dark stairwell.
“Where does this go?” he asked.
“The Lower Deck,” she said.
The clambered down the stairs and sure enough, once they’d reached the bottom, they were in the Lower Deck lobby.
They stopped to catch their breath.
“Well, that was something,” Ginny said, laughing. Her hair had now fallen loose into soft waves and framed her heart-shaped face.
“Well, this is where I was going to bring you any how,” Draco said, smoothing out his robes.
He took her hand and the two of them made their way towards a double door entranceway.
“What is this place?” she asked. He felt her squeeze his hand tightly.
“It’s a night club where us po’ folk entertain ourselves,” he said.
As soon as they walked through the doors, the sound of lively music engulfed them. The club was spacious and dimly lit. A bar was situated in the middle, where many people were gathered. Just beyond the bar was a dance floor, complete with flashy lights and smoke, for a dramatic effect.
She clung to his arm as they made their way through the nightclub.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked her, leaning into her ear so she could hear him over the music.
“No, I’m all right for now,” she said.
They stood at the edge of the dance floor, watching dozens and dozens of people gyrating to the music.
“I don’t know about this, Draco,” she said. “I’ve never danced like that.”
“It’ll be fun,” he reassured her. “It’s much better than ballroom dancing.” He pulled her onto the dance floor, keeping her close.
He shifted a little, attempting to get the rhythm, all the while, keeping his gaze on her. She bit her lip in hesitation, watching his footwork.
“Here,” he said, pulling her against him. He placed his hands on her waist. “Is this all right?”
“N-no…yes…it’s all right,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes.
He guided her body so that her movements met his. She was stiff and rigid at first, but eventually she let her guard down. She laughed as he twirled her around, dipping her low and bringing his face a mere inch away from hers. Her eyes widened and he noticed her breath catch in her throat as she held onto him.
As the music began to pick up, the entire room was jumping. It was difficult to see with the number of people surrounding them, the blinding lights, and the smoke that encircled them.
Ginny had gotten the hang of things and was now moving her hips against Draco’s. She was waving her arms about her, a smile on her face as she sang along to the lyrics with the rest of the crowd.
He slid a hand down her back, stopping it dangerously low. He liked how soft her body was, and how it felt against his again. The heat emanating from her sent chills down his spine. He leaned in slightly so that her chest was barely touching his.
She twirled herself around so that her back was against his chest. She took his hands and placed them on her own hips. He gently assuaged her body through the silky fabric of her robes. She placed her hands on his, encouraging him.
For a moment Ginny turned her face to look up at him. Their eyes locked and Draco saw a deep emotion in her eyes that he couldn’t read. Her hair now clung to her face with sweat. She was breathing rapidly. Her makeup had run dry and was replaced with a pinkish glow. But Draco thought she’d never looked better. She looked free.
His heart thudded against his chest and the music sounded faraway…the dancing people became fuzzy patterns of light. He could feel his own sweat dripping down his neck. He could hear her breathing quicken and feel her body heave against his own. She was so soft…so lithe. Her closeness to him was intoxicating.
Her lips parted ever so slightly. He leaned in, attempting to close the gap between them. She closed her eyes, anticipating their contact.
But Draco thought of the numerous Weasleys who’d been cordial with him during dinner. He thought of Bill who’d merely used Ginny as an excuse to offer Draco something to wear. He thought of Molly who’d told him he looked nice when other people had given him shifty glances. He thought of Charlie who’d talked to him about all sorts of things, no questions asked, making Draco feel like a normal person.
And then he thought of the girl in his arms, so willing for Draco to kiss her. She was so beautiful, so full of energy. He was a fool, but he couldn’t seem to do it.
He released Ginny and her eyes flew open in surprise.
Draco gave her a small smile. “It’s getting a bit late. I think your family will begin to worry.”
Her eyes darkened. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think of that when we left the dining hall in the first place.”
“Ginny,” he said, softly, unsure if she could hear him over the music. He cupped the side of her face, running his fingers gently through her hair.
He felt her shiver slightly and her expression relaxed. “Let’s go.”
They barely spoke a word to each other as he walked her back to her cabin. When they approached her door, he waited as she pulled out her key.
“Draco, I-” she began to speak, but faltered, as if trying to formulate the right words.
“Thank you for having me for dinner. It was lovely,” he said quickly, nodding slightly.
She blinked at him, her expression unreadable. “Oh, Draco,” she said, a trace of sadness in her voice. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“I beg your pardon?” he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.
“Treat me as the others do.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I know.”
There was an awkward silence between them.
His racing heart had not skipped a beat since their almost kiss in the nightclub. He waited for her to place her hand on her doorknob, signaling that the night was truly over. But she didn’t.
“Goodnight,” he said, desperate to end the deafening quiet that had settled between them. He knew what she wanted, because that was what he wanted as well. He took a step back.
A wave of disappointment spread across her face. She nodded. “Goodnight.” Her hand finally touched the doorknob and she let herself in, shutting the door without another look at him.
Author notes: Mo Shu Xue Xiao means Magic School in Chinese.
To Be Continued.
sevs_girl is the author of 2 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 14 members. Members who liked MMS Potter also liked 732 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 14 members. Members who liked MMS Potter also liked 732 other stories.
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