Chapter 14
The Accident
"It's a pleasure to see you, Mrs. Zabini." Ginny said, extending her hand toward a seat and repeating the ritual for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. She had no idea that cheeks could ache from smiling, or how unspeakably vile tea began to taste after the three-hundred and fifteenth lukewarm sip. "Won't you please sit down?"
"Why thank you, Miss Weasley. I'd be honored." Millicent Bulstrode, now Zabini, plopped into a seat opposite Gin and flashed a cheeky grin. If she could, Ginny would have scowled. Millicent- recently freed from her own obligation to participate in what Ginny had begun to refer to in her mind as "Etiquette Death Match" by the announcement that she was expecting a child- was enjoying her torture entirely too much.
"Could I offer you some tea?" Ginny asked, tilting her head just so.
"Yes, please."
"Cream?"
"Sugar."
"One lump or two?"
“Two, please.”
Somewhere behind her, Ginny heard the smack of a cane meeting flesh, and the frightened yelp of whichever wannabe debutante had been so unfortunate as to hold out her pinky while she sipped tea. She grew steadily more tense as footsteps approached: Tap-tap-clack, tap-tap-clack, as the footfalls of high-heeled shoes were followed by the sound of the cane on the polished floor.
At last, Ginny sensed (though she didn’t dare to turn her head and look), Madame Mynuet hovering over her shoulder, and she felt the smile on her lips threaten to fade.
She had doubted the wisdom of Narcissa Malfoy’s application of Never-Frown Polish to her front teeth before they left the house, but she was grateful for it now. No sooner had her lips begun to droop than the magical paste had taken control, forcing them up to expose her gleaming teeth. “Lemon?” She asked carefully.
She avoided looking at Millicent’s face. The new Mrs. Zabini, though technically liberated from the Matron’s tyranny, could not seem to drag her eyes away from the Committee Chairwoman as she loomed over them.
Madame Mynuet coughed.
Ginny was uncomfortably aware that silence had fallen. She needed to think of a question to ask. Soon. The baby? Too crass. The wedding? Too close to the baby…
Ginny’s eyes drifted slightly to the side, trying to find something or someone to start a conversation about…and that’s when she saw it.
In the corner of her eye, she caught the quick swish of a wand, and her eyes darted instantly upwards to its wielder: one Miss Genevieve Fougere. She had time to register the satisfied smirk on her rivals face. Then, in the same second that she realized what was wrong, it happened: the teapot that she was holding exploded, spewing tea in a dozen directions- including the while linen table cloth she was pouring, the designer lavender robes Ginny had borrowed from Narcissa, and, most horrifying of all, the floor in front of Madame Mynuet.
The tea-sipping debutantes were already wound as tightly as springs. The sudden noise and excitement of the exploding teapot sent them all into instant chaos. A cacophony of voices- some laughing, some gasping, some whispering in sympathy- erupted in the crowded ballroom.
Madame Mynuet’s expression became thunderous. She shook a large fist at the broken shards of tea pot then made a move to strike the cane hard against the marble floor, demanding to be paid attention.
Unfortunately, the floor was wet. The tip of the cane slid sideways, felling the old dame like a chopped down tree.
Ginny stared down helplessly, sensing every eye in the room on her face.
Things were not going well.
*****
The walk from the Apparation point back inside Malfoy Manor was silent.
Ginny stalked up the lane on one side of Narcissa while Genevieve wisely remained on the other. The youngest Weasley could practically feel the disappointment rolling off of Mrs. Malfoy, and that sense of failure stung her far worse than any angry words or accusations. Of course, no one had seen Genevieve’s contribution to the accident. Indeed, Miss Fougere looked positively radiant as she glided toward the house, pointedly ignoring her companion until they reached the front porch.
“Who’s that?” The Frenchwoman said, tilting her head toward two gentlemen seated in the front parlor no doubt waiting for the ladies to return.
Ginny looked up at last, following Genevieve’s gesture, then gasped. She knew the visitors all too well.
“I don’t believe you’ve met my brothers,” She somehow managed in an innocent tone even as her mind was racing toward thoughts of revenge, “Mrs. Malfoy, Miss Fougere, allow me to present Misters Fred and George Weasley.”
“What the hell happened?”
Ginny winced as, no more than a minute after her brother’s introduction, Draco Malfoy barreled around the corner, confronting his mother and assembled guests.
“Draco!” Narcissa scolded, “Is that any sort of language to use around a lady?” And Ginny half expected an ‘I don’t see any ladies here’ sort of snarky reply.
She was impressed however, when the comment garnered only an embarrassed, “Sorry, mum.”
Ginny felt a pair of grey eyes burning into her skin, as hot as ash. “What happened to your robes?”
“Genevieve!” Ginny wanted to hiss, but she swallowed the name.
“Miss Weasley had an accident.” The other girl sweetly inserted. “I dare say she isn’t used to handling such delicate china at home.”
Any other time, Ginny might have felt a spark of anger, or at least of humiliation at the remark. However, watching the scarlet flush that rose almost automatically on her brothers identical cheeks, her reaction was a satisfied smirk. Mais oui, putain ,she thought, your day is almost at hand!
Draco frowned at Ginny, and for a moment she swore that he could tell what she was thinking.
“It was an accident.” Narcissa stated firmly. She dipped her head at Fred and George, “Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley…” she murmured in greeting. “If you could excuse me for just a moment, we need to get Ginny out of these wet clothes.”
“Of course.” They said in unison, seemingly taken aback my Mrs. Malfoy’s hospitality. “We’ll…er…wait outside. We were in the neighborhood on business and we…erhm...thought we’d see if Gin wanted some company home.” One or the other spoke.
“How lovely.” Narcissa said, herding Ginny toward one of the elves. “Won’t you stay for dinner?”
“Can’t.” A twin answered, “Mum’s made Goulash!” he enthused, ignoring his sisters wince. At least she couldn’t see Genevieve’s face as she walked away. Thank Merlin for small mercies…
Ginny changed into one of Narcissa’s old gowns: a pale slip of silk that was too tight across the hips, too loose across the bust, did nothing for her complexion and was generally all-around depressing to wear. She made appreciative noises, however, and was soon on her way home with the twins.
“Whose the French girl?” Fred asked, swinging the walking stick that Ginny was ever-so-grateful he hadn’t taken out during their visit to Malfoy Manor.
“The competition.” Gin replied, “Draco’s fiancé?”
She didn’t realize that she had said anything out of place until she saw that George’s eyes looked ready to pop out of his head. “The competition for the Deb Ball!” She corrected quickly. “She’s trying to make me lose!”
“Lose?” Fred said, intrigued, “It’s a contest?”
“Merlin, yes!” Ginny said, astonished that they could be so naive. “There’s dances and classes and…” She noticed that she had lost their attention, and so she stopped.
Fred used his cane to lift the hem of the borrowed dress, “Looks like you didn’t get off to such a stellar start.”
“That wasn’t my fault!” Ginny hissed, and before she knew it, the story of Genevieve’s sabotage came tumbling out. At last she finished, and gave them both a piercing look, “You two wouldn’t be interested in helping me plot revenge?”
“Revenge?” Fred asked, feigning innocence.
George’s lips spread into a feral grin. “Always.”
..ooOOoo..
“Ginny dear, can you get that?”
Ginny nodded to her mum and pushed away from the table, almost grateful for a reason to leave her plate. Goulash might not be quite the sort of meal one would “dine” on at Malfoy Manor, but delicious nevertheless. If she kept eating, she was going to have to unbutton her pants.
“I wonder who that could be…” Arthur Weasley was remarking as his daughter left the kitchen to answer the front door. She was wondering the same thing.
No one that the Weasley’s knew would be calling so late.
In spite of all the possibilities that flickered though her mind as she walked, none of them prepared her for the truth.
“D-Draco?” She stuttered when she answered the door, whispering thanks that she hadn’t unbuttoned her pants after all.
“Last I checked.” Came the sardonic reply.
“W-why are you here?”
“Unhappy to see me?” He took a step closer. The action, taken by any other person would have been an invasion of personal space, but Draco’s closeness only made her skin go hot. “N-no…It’s just…its just a surprise.”
She waited for him to announce some purpose. When he merely stared at her, looking like he was going to kiss her at any second, she took a step back.
"I just thought you'd like your dress... Although, of course, if you choose to go without it, I have no objections."
“My dress?” Ginny asked, but then he waggled the formerly tea-stained garment in front of her face.
“Couldn’t you have sent an owl?”
“All off on very important Deb Ball business.” He had stepped against her again. His skin was no more than three inches away, and she could feel his breath against her cheeks.
“Couldn’t it have waited?”
He dipped his head toward hers. “You tell me…” he breathed against her ear, and then his lips closed over hers.
Ginny didn’t have time to take a breath. The lack of oxygen, combined with the always dizzying effect of his miss made her feel like she was drowning in bliss.
“Gin?” Molly Weasley’s voice made her jerk away. “Who is it dear?”
“It’s….er….” She looked at Draco, helplessly.
“The….er….” he shrugged.
“They had the wrong house!” Ginny said, loudly. Then froze as the ridiculousness of this statement.
“The…what?” Arthur Weasley’s voice sounded concerned, and she heard his chair pull away from the table.
“Run!” She hissed at Draco. Then, laughing, she took his hand and dragged him into the night.
It was perfect. Of all the hours of the day, twilight had always been her favorite, and this night epitomized the reason that she loved it. The stars were beginning to peep through the veil of black, and the crickets and toads and pixies had begin a low, screeching song to the night. Around them, fairies drifted lazily through the branches of the trees, wafting on the jets of air that were neither warm nor cool, scented with the heavy perfume of half-closed buds.
She ran to the far end of the garden where the branches of a willow shielded them from the house.
“What was that about?” Draco asked.
Ginny leaned her back against the trunk of the tree. “I don’t know.” She answered. “You tell me.”
She had hoped he wouldn’t answer with words, and Draco didn’t disappoint. He moved against her, sliding his body into the curves and hollows of her own, skin flush, and then bent his head to renew his attentions to her lips. He kissed her eyes and cheeks and ears, then began working his way down the slender column of her neck.
“Gin…” He breathed against her hair. “We’ve wasted so much time…”
She nodded but didn’t voice a reply. Instead, she curled her fingers in his short, pale locks.
“We were so daft…” he moaned against her collarbone. “It has to end.”
She dipped her head in agreement. “You have to give this craziness up.”
“What?”
Ginny stiffened, suddenly confused.
“Mmmmmm…..” He was licking the neckline of her robes, tracing the very lowest edge of exposed skin, and didn’t sound inclined to stop.
“What do I have to give up?”
He sighed and raised his head. “The deb ball.” He answered, jerking his head in the direction of the robes, which he still held clutched in his hands.
“You don’t have to tell me what went wrong for me to know that tea-stained robes on the first day aren’t a good sign.”
“It was an accident!” Ginny replied indignantly.
“So my mother says…”
A reply was on the tip of her tongue, but she was interrupted by the opening and closing of a door.
“Ginny?” Fred’s voice called. “Where are you?”
She rolled her eyes. There was really no point trying to hide from Fred and George. “By the Willow.” She called back, then turned to tell Draco to stay, but she was too late. He had already drawn his wand. With a soft *pop* he had Apparated away.
“What was that about?” The twin said as he approached his sister under the tree. She was motionless staring at an empty point in space. “Was that the Ferret out here with you?”
“Mmmmm…” she mumbled in reply.
“What’d he want?”
“He was returning my dress from this afternoon.” She answered dreamily.
“Well, where it is then?”
Ginny blinked. He had forgotten to leave it behind.
..ooOOoo..
Narcissa Malfoy’s owl the next morning was something of a shock.
Ginny had expected a mention of what had happened the day before- hopefully encouragement, but possibly an expression of displeasure. She would not have been surprised with a simple note informing her of the next days activities- and on that score, the parchment basically fulfilled her expectations. She was, however, astounded by the words penned beneath the signature in Mrs. Malfoy’s elegant script:
P.S. Tomorrow morning we’ll begin dance lessons, so you’ll need to bring a male escort. I’m afraid that Genevieve’s already spoken for Draco. Please use discretion, dear.
A male escort. Ginny groaned, realizing that she had no choice apart from her brothers. Ordinarily she might have convinced Harry Potter to accept the task, but he had been uncommonly sulky since Ginny had begin spending time with the Malfoy’s, and she didn’t want to give him the chance to turn her down. There was simply no other choice.
She would have to take one of the Weasley boys.
Narrowing the field was easy.
Bill was in South America, helping the local wizards unravel some extra-complicated Inca Curse. Charlie was with his dragons in Romania again. Percy would have done almost anything for a chance to pass the afternoon with the debutantes- not that he was particularly interested in the girls themselves, but it would give him infinite pleasure to recount the event later in a loud voice that was meant to be overhead, “ When I was at Rookthrush Grove last Wednesday…..” but he was tied up at the Ministry.
It had to be Ron. He wouldn’t be any happier than Harry about it, but at least she could ply him with guilt. She fixed her hair and robes, then flooed to his flat in Diagon Alley and cornered him over his toast.
“No!” Ron said loudly, shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”
“But Ron, I need you!” Ginny whined, stealing a triangle of bread and slathering it with butter. “We’re all meant to have dates, it will only be half an day.”
“What will only be half an day?”
Ginny and Ron groaned simultaneously as their twin brothers appeared at the kitchen door.
“You look fetching, sister-mine.” George purred, lifting her hand to kiss it as he inserted himself into a chair.
“Don’t you have a flat of your own?” Ron growled, edging the plate toward him.
Fred (or possibly George) scooted it back and took two pieces of toast.
“Sure, little bro.” He said, as his twin reached around and took the last two slices. “But we don’t have toast.” He slathered marmalade onto a bite and popped it into his mouth. “So Gin, what’s only going to be half a day?”
She tried to think of a lie. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her brothers- quite the contrary- but Narcissa’s note had advised specifically “use discretion” and the term discreet could, in no way shape or form, ever be used to describe the twins.
“Her stupid Malfoy lessons.” Ron supplied, in a derisive tone before Ginny could cut him off. “Dancing class or some such. She’s meant to bring a date.”
“But I’ll find someone!” She said quickly, reaching for her bag. “In fact, Neville Longbottom mentioned that…”
“No need to bother Neville!” George said, “What’s a brother for, if not to help his sister in her hour of need?”
Fred gave his sister a significant look. “Indeed, sister-mine. Weren’t you discussing the need for certain…assistance…only yesterday?”
“Its…er….really quite alright.” Ginny assured them. “I wouldn’t want to put you to the trouble.”
“It’s no trouble.” Fred said. “We love to dance.”
“Adore it!” George agreed.
Ginny closed her eyes, trying not to shake with horror at the memory of Yule Ball during her third year. Yes, she had seen Fred and George dance. “I really think Neville would be better.” She persisted. “And besides, I was really only supposed to bring one…”
“Someone will probably forget.” Ron chimed in, unhelpfully.
“Can’t leave the lovelies without partners.” Fred said.
“But-“ Ginny could already tell that she was losing the battle.
“Besides,” George continued before she could finish her protest. “No one needs to know that there is more than one of us.”
“But you don’t have time to change.” She said desperately, then rolled her eyes as, with the crack of a wand, the twins were both clothed in their green dragon skin suits.
“Always prepared.” George said.
Ginny felt her stomach begin to sink as she was outmaneuvered by the twins yet again.
She didn’t have time to dwell on it as her brothers hooked their arms through her own and began escorting her to the door.
“Our victims await.” Fred said as he withdrew his wand.
Ginny certainly hoped he was kidding.
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