Dinner With the Malfoys

“There is no way this can end well,” Draco said as he steered Ginny through Diagon Alley, his hand on the small of her back.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Draco,” Ginny answered. “At the very least, it can’t be worse than when you met my family.”

Draco shuddered at the thought of the meeting the week before. He had spent much of it quacking like a duck, and his hair was still slightly pink. On the other hand, he knew that his parents were capable of much, much worse than the Weasleys could ever do, and he was sure they wouldn’t hesitate to make their opinion of his no-longer-secret girlfriend perfectly clear. “You think so, do you?” he asked with a scowl.

“Of course!” Ginny answered. “Your parents at least have some sense of decorum. They’re not likely to hex me.” She paused. “Well, not in public, anyway.”

“Perhaps not,” Draco said dubiously, “but I still want you to be careful.” He stopped just outside the restaurant. “You do have your wand where you can reach it quickly, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes, “even though I think it’s an unnecessary precaution.”

“Good,” Draco said shortly. He had never understood why Ginny got so frustrated when he worried about her safety. He was just showing how much he cared about her. Shouldn’t she appreciate that? Instead, she accused him of being overprotective and sometimes even cursed him in response. It was maddening. Even worse, Ginny didn’t seem to be concerned about this meeting at all. His mother ate social climbers for breakfast and had never bothered to hide her disgust for the Weasley clan. And Lucius had been a Death Eater, for Merlin’s sake. He’d tried to kill Ginny on more than one occasion already. How could she be so glib about having dinner with them? But Draco knew better than to mention his concerns again. He would rather not spend the whole dinner with bats streaming from his nose. Taking a deep breath and bracing himself, he held the restaurant door open for Ginny then followed her inside.

At first, the meal went just as Draco had expected. His parents’ expressions were blank as they greeted the young couple and they both eyed Ginny warily. Ginny, on the other hand, was as cheerful as Draco had ever seen her. She didn’t seem to be discomfited by the cold reception; she didn’t even seem to notice.

Quiet descended on the table as everyone perused the menu. Draco’s heart sank when he realized it was written in French. This was not a problem for him; he had learned the language at a very young age. He was, however, concerned for Ginny. How would she manage? And worse, had his parents chosen the restaurant to make her uncomfortable about their difference in status? He turned to Ginny and asked quietly, “Do you need me to translate for you?”

Before Ginny could answer, Narcissa said sharply, “Of course she doesn’t!” When everyone turned their eyes toward her, she added. “Her brother’s wife is French. And Ginevra is certainly intelligent enough to have picked up the language from her.” She gave Ginny a small smile.

“Fleur has taught me a little French,” Ginny said, smiling at Narcissa and then glowering at Draco. “I’m nowhere near fluent, but I do know enough to read a menu.”

The waiter appeared at that moment, and Draco was mortified to hear Ginny place her order in nearly perfect French. Her accent was even better than his own. He blushed and looked down at his hands, refusing to meet anyone else’s eye.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Ginny turned to the elder Malfoys. “Draco tells me you have a lovely rose garden,” she said.

“I like to think so,” Narcissa answered, her face lighting up in a smile that Draco had only ever seen when she talked about gardening. “There’s nothing quite like making things grow, is there?”

“No, there’s not,” Ginny answered. “I keep a small garden at the Burrow, but I never feel that I have enough time for it.”

Draco stared. She had a garden? He hadn’t known that. Then something else occurred to him, making him smile at the deviousness of the idea. Maybe Ginny didn’t really know anything about gardens. She could have said so just to open a conversation with Narcissa. After all, no topic of conversation was more appealing to his mother than her roses. That would certainly be cunning of Ginny if it were the case, and would explain why she had never told him about her garden. Draco resolved to ask her about it later.

“What do you grow?” Narcissa was asking eagerly.

“Mostly vegetables and potions ingredients,” Ginny answered. “My mum frowns on flower gardens. She thinks they’re a waste of time and resources.” She paused, then added wistfully, “Someday I’ll have a garden of my own, and then I’ll be able to plant roses.”

“Why wait for someday?” Narcissa asked. “I have more space than I ever use at the Manor. You are welcome to take over one of the gardens there and plant whatever you like.”

Ginny looked as astonished as Draco felt. “Really?” she asked. “I wouldn’t be in your way?”

“We have acres and acres of land,” Narcissa said with just a trace of a smirk. “I think we can find a little space for you. And it will be so refreshing to have someone to talk with about gardening.” She looked sideways at Lucius. “Someone who will pay attention, that is.”

“If you’re sure, then I’d be delighted,” Ginny said. She and Narcissa began a long and technical discussion on the merits of dragon dung as fertilizer, leaving Draco in no doubt of Ginny’s level of expertise in Herbology. By the time the appetizers were served, the two women were talking as if they had known each other for years.

When the entrees arrived, Lucius took the opportunity to change the subject of the conversation. “So, Miss Weasley, what is your opinion of the changes Potter has proposed for the Ministry?”

Draco had to struggle not to bury his face in his hands. This was worse than he thought. Things had been going so well, and his father had to bring up politics? Was there any topic more likely to lead to disaster?

Ginny didn’t seem to mind the topic, however. She shrugged her shoulders and said, “My dad and brothers are all convinced that they’re the best thing to come along since self-cleaning cauldrons, but I’m not so sure.”

Lucius and Draco each raised their left eyebrows in unison.

Sensing their disbelief, Ginny smiled. “Is it really so surprising?” she asked.

“Yes,” Draco blurted out. He was beginning to wonder just how well he knew Ginny Weasley. Apparently she was wondering as well, as she turned toward him, her face hard.

Lucius interceded by asking, “What are your objections, might I ask?”

“I don’t object in principle,” Ginny answered, “just in degree. We certainly need reforms; it was shameful how Cornelius Fudge and Rufus Scrimgeour were able to abuse their power. But Harry’s proposals are so extreme that they threaten to swing the pendulum very quickly in the opposite direction. There will be a revolt soon enough, and then we’ll be back to war again.”

“You seem to have thought this through quite thoroughly,” Lucius observed.

“It’s an important issue,” Ginny said. “And it’s really just a matter of thinking ahead. Like in chess. If you only think one or two moves ahead, you’ll lose for sure. You need to think about the long-term consequences of your actions.”

Draco could see that Ginny had his father’s full attention. He wasn’t only watching her, but had turned his body to face her, and was leaning slightly over the table, as if to hear her better. Draco frowned inwardly. How long had it been since his father had looked at him that way? Far too long, certainly!

“You play chess?” Lucius asked.

Ginny nodded.

“Are you any good?”

“I still lose to my brother Ron more often than I win,” Ginny said, grinning, “but Draco refuses to play me anymore.”

“Draco never was a gracious loser,” Narcissa said evenly.

“Mother!” Draco said agitatedly.

“Well, you weren’t!” she said, then turned to Ginny. “There was one time—Draco couldn’t have been more than five—when Vincent Crabbe beat him at Gobstones. Draco got so mad that he blasted out all of the windows in the nursery. We were picking glass out of the woodwork for weeks!”

This time, Draco couldn’t help but hide his face behind his hands. Could this evening get any worse? Was his mother going to spill all of his childhood secrets during her first meeting with Ginny? At least she hadn’t mentioned the time he had run naked through the house to avoid a bath. Or when he had wedged himself into a cauldron and bounced around, proclaiming himself to be the Hopping Pot of the fairytale. Yet. Where was that dessert?

“You must be quite good, then, if you managed to scare Draco off,” Lucius said. “He’s quite accomplished at the game.”

“He’s not bad,” Ginny said.

“Not bad?” Draco asked indignantly. “I’m much better than Potter, anyway!”

Ginny looked incredulously at Draco. “Of course you are!” she said. “Your house-elf is probably better at chess than Harry!”

Both Lucius and Narcissa began to laugh—it was a subdued and refined sort of laughter, but laughter nevertheless.

Draco was spared further mortification by the arrival of dessert. He smiled. There were very few things in the world that couldn’t be made better with a little chocolate.

“Well, Ginevra, I am not nearly as concerned with winning as Draco is,” Lucius said. Draco thought he heard a snort from his mother’s direction at this comment, but quickly dismissed the idea as impossible. “I hope you will be willing to play a game of chess with me when you come to the Manor to see about the gardens.”

“Of course, Mr. Malfoy,” Ginny said with a smile. “It will be my pleasure.”

“Please call me Lucius,” he said, smiling in return.

Draco choked on his Death By Chocolate Cake.

Luckily, the name of Draco’s dessert wasn’t prophetic. He didn’t actually die. He did, however, manage to spill wine all over his otherwise pristine robes while desperately grabbing for a glass of water. When he returned from the bathroom, where he had managed to get most of the stains out with a few well-placed Scourgifies, his parents and girlfriend were already preparing to leave. Draco looked longingly at the remains of his cake as he helped Ginny into her cloak.

Ginny hugged both Narcissa and Lucius goodbye. Much to Draco’s shock, they returned the hugs. In full view of the whole restaurant. What had come over his parents? Hadn’t they taught him that displays of affection were only appropriate in the privacy of one’s own home? Draco was still gaping when his father approached him.

“Ginevra is a lovely young lady, Draco. I have to admit that I was… concerned when you told me she was a Weasley, but she certainly put all of my doubts to rest tonight. Well done, son. Your mother and I hope to see both of you soon.” And with that, Lucius led Narcissa away.

Ginny tugged on Draco’s sleeve. Automatically, he offered her his arm and started moving down the street in the direction opposite his parents. What had happened? The evening certainly had not gone the way Draco expected.

Draco was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Ginny’s voice. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked her.

“I said,” Ginny said somewhat testily, “that your parents seemed quite nice. I can’t imagine why you were so worried.”

“Yes, they did seem that way, didn’t they?” Draco said with a scowl.

Ginny stopped and stared at Draco. “What’s the matter with you tonight?”

“What do you mean, what’s the matter with me?”

“I thought you wanted tonight to go well,” Ginny said.

“I did,” Draco asked.

“Then why couldn’t you be bothered to help me keep the conversation going?” Ginny asked, her eyes flashing. “You hardly spoke three words all night!”

“I said more than that!” Draco protested.

“Oh, that’s right,” Ginny said angrily. “You embarrassed me by assuming there was no possible way I would be able to read a little French. And even if I couldn’t, I am certainly capable of casting a Translation Charm by myself, or you doubt even that?”

“Oh,” Draco said. “I didn’t even think of a Translation Charm.”

Ginny glared at him for a minute more, then sighed. “I guess you did have quite a bit on your mind at the time. I suppose I should forgive you.”

“Thank you,” Draco said gratefully. The last thing he wanted tonight was to fight with Ginny. He was exhausted and just wanted to curl up with her at his side.

They smiled at each other and began to walk once more toward their flat.

“Draco?” Ginny asked after a while. “Why do you seem so angry when the evening went so well?”

“Angry?” Draco asked, frowning. “I’m not angry.”

“Yes, you are.”

She was right, blast it all. Why did it seem like Ginny knew Draco so much better than he knew her? He scowled. “I don’t know why,” he said.

“The whole evening went much better than I had even hoped for,” Ginny prompted. “I actually had fun talking to your parents, and they seemed to enjoy themselves too.”

Draco’s frown deepened.

“Is that it?” Ginny asked.

“It’s just strange,” Draco said, stopping and looking down at his shoes. “I’ve never seen them act that way before. Ever. At least not with anyone besides me.”

There was a long pause. Finally, Draco looked up to see Ginny smiling at him. “What?” he asked nervously.

“I know what the problem is,” Ginny answered, still smiling. “You’re jealous.”

“Of course I’m not jealous!” Draco said angrily. “Why would I be jealous?”

Ginny’s smile changed into a smirk, but she didn’t answer.

As they continued walking, Draco considered Ginny’s words. Could she be right? He had always had his parents’ undivided attention before, and he had certainly never liked the idea of sharing. Maybe she had a point. But there was something else bothering him as well. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“By the way,” Ginny said, interrupting Draco’s musing. “I made plans for us to visit your parents on Sunday.”

“Sunday?” Draco asked, panic flooding him. “But that’s the one day of the week neither of us has to work! I had plans for us on Sunday!”

“Plans other than the two of us staying in bed all day?” Ginny asked with a grin.

“Well, no,” Draco answered, slightly abashed. “But I was still really looking forward to it.”

“We don’t have to go to your parents’ until the afternoon,” Ginny soothed. “We can stay in bed all morning if you want.”

“But I want you all day! I don’t want to share you with them!”

Ginny stared at Draco for a moment, then burst out laughing. It was a loud, raucous kind of laughter, so different from his parents’. It would have made him smile if it had been directed at someone else.

“What’s so funny?” Draco asked sulkily.

“You’re so possessive!” Ginny answered. She grinned. “It’s kind of cute.”

Draco frowned.

“If it will make you feel better,” Ginny said mirthfully, “I can promise you one thing you won’t have to share with your parents.”

“Oh, really?” Draco asked. “What’s that?”

“This,” Ginny whispered, then kissed him soundly on the mouth.

When they finally came up for air, Draco said, “I think I can manage a few hours with my parents for the sake of family harmony, as long as I don’t have to share that.” And then he kissed her again.