Chapter 15
LuftSchokolade
“Why Mr. Weasley…and Mr. Weasley…” Narcissa’s voice wavered slightly as she watched George Weasley shrink himself to the size of a pixie and then was dropped into his brother’s breast pocket, “what a pleasure to see you again.”
Narcissa sounded mostly sincere.
Ginny was impressed with her self-control. Perhaps etiquette lessons would prove useful after all.
Fred made a sweeping bow to the mistress of the manor, and then stood again as Genevieve and Draco rounded the corner. The French girl didn’t bother returning his greeting. “Oh, you’ve brought your brother Ginevra.” She said in a honey-sweet voice. “How very quaint…” Her tiny gloved hand was resting lightly on Draco’s shoulder.
Ginny glared.
“Most girls bring their brothers.” Narcissa said, cutting off any further remarks. “And we had best not stand about debating the point. We’re almost late…and you know what Madame says about tardiness…”
“Tardiness is disrespectful to yourself and others” Both Ginny and Genevieve parroted back in harmony, surprising themselves with the speed at which the dowager tiger’s words sprang to their lips.
They left the house together and walked to the Apparation point, rematerializing a few minutes later at Shadowbarrow Hall.
Fred made a whistling sound as they entered the ballroom of the house. Wizarding society’s most eligible young Misses were ranged all around the sides. In the center of the room stood a slightly smaller group of set-upon-looking young men. Fred and Draco went to join them.
“Can your brother even dance?” Genevieve asked after the boys were gone. “I’d hate for you to lose point standing on his account.”
“I’m sure.” Ginny growled under her breath.
“Ladies? Ladies!” Mrs. Zabini (the elder) was wandering past the girls, trying unsuccessfully to convince them to pipe down.
“SILENCE!!!!!” The voice of Madame Mynuet boomed through the hall, accompanied by the loud rapping of a cane. The command was instantly obeyed.
Narcissa gave her ‘girls’ a wary look and shooed them back against the wall as the formidable chairwoman began stalking past their neat row, nearly daring them to make a peep.
“Thank you for remembering to invite a guest to today’s gathering. And to those of you who did not…”
Ginny felt her stomach twist as, even without speaking a punishment aloud, Ginny’s mind automatically assumed the worst.
“We will first announce the current standings. In third place, Miss Su Li…”There was a polite round of applause and a low murmuring from the crowed. “In second place, Miss Catherine Slater…” Ginny felt her heart begin to lift. If Miss Slater was in second then Genevieve couldn’t have beaten her, unless… “And currently in the lead, Mademoiselle Genevieve Fougere.”
Ginny felt color rising to her cheeks, although she wasn’t sure if it was anger, shame, or a combination of both. Her first instinct was to glance at Genevieve- a mistake. The smug smirk on the French woman’s lips made Ginny’s fingers twitch with the urge to slap it off.
Across the ballroom, where the men had gathered, she noticed Draco turned in her direction, watching with interest. She pointedly avoided his gaze. His sympathy (or worse, his look of vindication) would be even harder to bear. Luckily, Madame began to speak again. “Of course, this is a preliminary tally.” She said in clipped tones. “There’s still plenty of time for all of you to make fools of yourselves.”
No one dared to laugh.
“Now girls, gentlemen...If you would. We’ll arrange into couples.”
Genevieve took a step toward Draco, but was stopped by an angry crack of the cane against the floor. “And where do you propose that you are going, Miss Fougere?” Madame growled.
Genevieve blinked, utterly mortified to find herself the sudden center of attention. “To...to find my date.” She answered.
“You don’t have a date yet.”
Ginny felt a surge of satisfaction at the look of shock that claimed her face,“But Mr. Malfoy...”
“...is your contribution to the pool.” Madame finished for her, looking as though she enjoyed bringing the younger woman down a notch or two, whether she was in the lead for the crown or not. “Now go and stand against the wall.”
Looking very sulky, Genevieve did as she was told. Only when she had resumed her station next to Ginny did Madame begin again. “Now.” She said, narrowing her eyes, “If there are no further interruptions...” There were none. “Good. Gentlemen, please return to the ladies that you arrived with.” She waited until this too had been done, “Now then. The art of introduction is, in my opinion-which for your purposes is the only one that matters- a neglected art. I don’t hold with young people these days, wandering off onto balconies with perfect strangers.” She cast her gaze along the line of young people, making each of them feel as if they personally had committed this offense. “Who are their parents? Are they trustworthy? Are they unattached? In my experience, a great deal of hurt feelings and ruined reputations could be avoided if the proper protocols are observed....now...” Her eyes skimmed the line again. Ginny felt a shiver run along her spine, and knew that it was shared by everyone under the scrutiny of the dark brown gaze. Like prisioners ranged before a firing squad,they were waiting to see which one would be shot. “You!”
It was Genevieve, and not Ginny who took the bullet. Rather than showing fear, however, the frenchwoman merely lifted her chin and answered. “Oui?”
“Since you were in such a hurry to return to Mr. Malfoy, you may go first. Come here, both of you.”
Tucking her arm through Draco’s Genevieve led him to stand next to Madame Mynuet.
“And you.”
Ginny flinched. Madame would never do anything so crass as point, but the dark eyes were fixed on her.
Copying her rival’s slightly defiant pose, she obeyed, standing where she was directed- facing Draco.
“Now, Miss Fougere.” There was a wild sort of gleam in Madame’s eye. “Introduce Mr. Malfoy to Miss...Weasley, was it?” Ginny dipped her head, not certain if Madame knowing her name was a good thing or not. Madame looked at Genevieve. “What does Miss Weasley need to know about Draco? How can you give a fair yet gracious and concise description of the other to each of them?”
Genevieve gave Ginny a patronizing smile, clearly thinking that this was all too easy. “Miss Weasley,” She said in a syrupy tone. “Please allow me to introduce Mr. Draco Black Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy’s estate it in Wiltshire, though he will be moving to France shortly to head a new company with my father. Mr. Malfoy, this is Ginevra Weasley. She’s...” There was a long pause, during which the brunette let her eyes travel slowly over Ginny’s body, disapproval positively radiating from her eyes as she pretended to search for something interesting or complimentary to say about the girl. “I hear her mother can do marvelous things with second-hand robes.”
There was a shocked murmur from the crowd.
Ginny’s first impulse was to slug her rival in the gut. She refrained. Madame was terrifying, but fair. Surely she wouldn’t let Genevieve escape unchastened for her rude behavior? To Ginny’s astonishment, however, Madame seemed utterly nonplussed. In fact, she was smiling. “Excellent, Miss Fougere.” She commented, “Mr. Malfoy,now that introductions have been made, it’s your turn...Won’t you ask Miss Weasley to be your partner for this afternoon’s dance?”
The look of dumbstruck horror that siezed Genevieve’s perfect features more than compensated for any humiliation that she had cost Ginny. Miss Weasley’s sense of consolation only increased when Draco reached forward to take her hand. "Miss Weasley," he said in a formal, yet playful tone, "Might I request the pleasure of your company this afternoon?" Ginny saw the dark, petulant scowl on Miss Fougere’s face, and thought she glimpsed a bit of triumph on Madame Mynuet. “Tolerable.” The older woman said, speaking the words in the tone of a begrudging compliment. “And now…Miss Weasley- Have you brought someone?”
Oh, no! In a heartbeat, all of the happiness Ginny had been feeling about Genevieve’s miscalculation was gone. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to throw her rival to the lions (or, as it were, to the twins). It was simply that she had hoped to extract her revenge in a more subtle means. She shuddered to think of what they might do, especially now that they had been provoked again.
“Miss Weasley?” The chairwoman was staring at her curiously, waiting for a reply. She was about to say that she had forgotten when Fred slid into place beside her, “Here I am, sister-dear.” He said with a broad smile. “Won’t you introduce me to this loooooovely young lady?” He asked suavely as he bent at the waist. He reached forward for the lady in question’s hand, dotting its palm with a rougish kiss before she could grab it away. Of course, he was bowing to Madame Mynuet instead of Genevieve. It seemed as if the entire ballroom was holding its breath, waiting for the hammer of Madame’s wrath to fall…but nothing happened. She stared at the Weasley boy slightly stunned by his boldness. Then, to the shock of all assembled, she began to laugh. Her rich, throaty chuckle filled the hall for a moment before she withdrew her hand, gave him a cheerful wink. “That will be enough of that Mr…?”
Don’t say Weasley, Don’t say Weasley, Don’t say Weasley! Gin repeated in her head.
“Fred Weasley.” He flashed his cheeky grin, “Gin’s brother.”
Madame nodded, “Very well. Miss Weasley, you will introduce Miss Fougere to your brother as a suitable date.”
“No!” Genevieve pouted at once, “I won’t do it! I didn’t come to England to flounce around with…with…peasants!”
“Then you should cease acting like one.” Madame replied. “Perhaps if I deducted twenty points from your total score, you would remember your manners?”
The French girl fell silent, though her cheeks continued to flame with swallowed rage.
“Now.” Madame cast her eyes around the little group, virtually daring one of them to make a peep. “Miss Weasley, the presentation please.”
“Certainly.” Ginny said, adopting the same spun-sugar tone that Genevieve herself had used. “Miss Fougere, this is my brother, Fred Weasley. Fred and his twin, George run a very successful business enterprise in Diagon Alley.”
Genevieve sniffed loudly, but when Madame’s eyes began to narrow, she covered the sound with a sneeze.
“Fred,” Ginny glared at the other girl, but continued her introduction, “This is Miss Genevieve Fougere. Miss Fougere hails from France.” There was another sniff. “And she appears to be catching a cold.
Madame sighed, but made no further comment. She turned to the rest of the group. “There now, you’ve seen how it’s done. Everyone form pairs. Hurry up!”
The ballroom sounded like a hive of honeybees as the gentlemen and ladies swarmed around each other, selecting partners and separating into groups. Ginny wasn’t sure if Madame had released then yet, and so she hovered close, as did Fred and a thoroughly misereable Miss Fougere.
“Now, if the gentlemen would present their tokens…”
Ginny felt her stomach clutch. She recalled, vaguely, a lecture during one of the boring luncheons on the topic of “Graceful receipt of gifts.” Madame had mentioned that, when dancing lessons began, all gentlemen would offer their escort some minor trinket as a momento of the date. She hadn’t given it a second thought when she had invited Fred and George.
Ignoring Draco and his proffered rose corsage, she turned to Fred. “I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, unperturbed by the notion of Genevieve’s remaining giftless, but mortified by the almost certainty that she would interpret the gesture (and repeat it for anyone who would listen) as a demonstration of the Weasley’s limited means.
Fred waved Ginny aside. “Not to worry, little sis.” He said, reaching into his coat pocket and, miraculously, retrieving a gold-foil box. It was a half-pound ballotin of sweets bearing the impressive, embossed label: F&G Premium LuftSchokolade . “Always prepared.” He said, as though he were stating a mantra. He repeated the fanciful bow that he had offered Madame Mynuet and extended the chocolates to Genevieve. “For you, my lady.” He said in a courtly voice.
“I am not your lady!” Genevieve said in a disgusted tone. She plucked the box from his hand, holding it pinched distastefully between her fingers as though it were the carcass of a rat. “As if I would eat chocolates.” She huffed, “For one thing, no one’s heard of…” she scrunched her nose at the impressive-looking box, “’F&G LuftSchokolade’…and even if I had, I certainly know better than to eat something that would go directly to my hips.” She smiled darkly at Gin, “Obviously, none of the Weasley’s have figured that out.”
Ginny bit her lips to keep from snapping back. Madame was still too close by to risk a real retort (although Genevieve seemed to harbor no such qualms). Happily, the Matron began moving again, clapping her hands to gain attention. “Very well, settle down.” Her voice boomed through the hall, “You should all have partners by now.” She twisted the top off her cane and extracted her wand, muttering a charm that made an orchestra appear on the balcony above. A waltz began to play. “If you are ready, we’ll begin the dancing now. Gentlemen…ladies…I remind you that you are being judged…”
Ginny almost felt sorry for Genevieve.
Almost.
If the girl had shown even a hint of kindness or mere good manners Ginny might have been inclined to call her brother off. As it was, she was able to quash her guilty feelings and take just as much pleasure as anyone else in watching Fred Weasley bring the French girl’s dreams of debutante glory to ruin.
It was a little bit sad, and (from a disaffected viewpoint) extraordinarily unfair that Genevieve should have one of the twins for a partner. She was an exquisite dancer, her tiny feet moving gracefully as her body swayed and whirled in perfect unison with the music. Fred Weasley was…not.
Even at the best of times, the twin’s dancing abilities would be most delicately described as “unique”…and this was not the best of times. In addition to the bruised toes that Genevieve was likely to have after two dances with one of the Weasley boys, she was in constant danger of an eye gouging or being knocked unconscious by flailing limbs. The other couples gave them a wide-berth as Genevieve’s was hurled across the floor. After the first set was finished, as the other girls stood by the walls and clapped politely, or sent their partners in search of lemonade, she chose the only sensible course of action available.
She fled.
At least, she tried to flee. Watching from the far side of the room as she waited for Draco to return with a drink, Ginny saw her rival skillfully shed her older brother on the pretext of a trip to the lavs. She seemed to be making a break for the garden, but she ran almost directly into her brother George.
The look on Genevieve’s face was priceless. She must have forgotten that her “date” had a twin. George did nothing to refresh her memory. When she turned around, Fred had disappeared, and then, making her torture complete, the music began again.
If Fred was a bad dancer, George could best be described as horrific. Genevieve’s feet were joined by the punch table, the curtains, and the elf playing cello as victims of what looked more like a dance floor rampage than a waltz. Genevieve wasn’t even granted relief between songs. Since the music had nothing to do with George’s dancing, he didn’t see the need to slow down when it stopped. When she finally managed to break away,well…there was Fred again.
It was a vicious cycle- one that Ginny (comfortably ensconced in Draco’s arms and thrilled to find that he was an excellent dancer- so skilled, in fact, that it masked her own somewhat neglected skill so that they appeared to be the most talented couple on the floor) was enjoying immensely. But, as with all good things, this too came to an end.
The music stopped.
“Lunch!” Madame Mynuet’s voice rose to fill the silence. Obediently, the debutantes and their dates scrambled toward the tables and chairs that had been set up in the garden.
“Fred!” Ginny waved toward her brother, trying to catch his attention. “Will you sit with us?” She asked brightly. Then, remembering her manners, turned to Genevieve and added grudgingly, “You can come too.”
“I’m not hungry.” Genevieve sniffed, turning on her heel. She paused long enough to shoot back a parting remark, “And if you’re planning to fit into whatever flour sack your mother’s managed to transfigure for the ball, you’d better think about skipping too.” And then she flounced away.
Draco gave Ginny’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “You’re perfect.” His whispered against her ear, just in case she had given the insult a second thought.
She would have whispered something equally endearing back, but Fred, and the newly resized George were both sticking their tongues out and pretending to gag.
“Let’s get a table.” Ginny said instead.
Lunch was a pleasant affair. Draco and the three Weasley’s found a table in the shade of a rose arbor. The light summer breeze, combined with the perfume of flowers, the absence of Genevieve, and the delicious, if sparing meal was immensely pleasant. In spite of her qualms about bringing the twins, Ginny was enjoying herself more than she had at any of the other Debutante events.
Even Madame Mynuet (to whom George Weasley was paying a suspicious amount of attention), seemed to be in high spirits. She stopped by the table and, after being introduced to the twins as the proprietors of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, inquired after the possibility of obtaining some canary creams. They lingered over coffee. Then, drowsy and full, everyone returned to the ballroom for brief instruction on the proper acknowledgement and thank-you for a date before the lesson was dismissed. Ginny, Draco and the twins had just settled into their chairs when they heard it.
Coming from the entrance hall there was a blood-curdling shriek.
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