Chapter 16
Confessions
There was a stampede into the foyer as everyone rushed to see what had caused the scream. Ginny, Draco and the twins hurried after the others, running into the front hall to find…
Nothing.
Ginny, along with everyone else turned to each other staring in puzzlement, and a low murmur broke out as people argued about where the noise had come from and what it had seemed to be. Narcissa Malfoy, Madame Mynuet, and the other chaperones had entered the room as well. They were huddled together, discussing something in quiet tones, while their eyes drifted around the room. Ginny watched Draco’s mother’s face carefully, following her clear blue eyes as they scanned the hall.
It was Narcissa who saw it first. Finding the entry empty, her gaze drifted up the circular staircase, to the landing, up to the second floor, and then the third, and then…
Her hand clamped over her mouth. Noticing her change of expression, Ginny looked up. At the same moment, her actions were copied by the people around her, the repetition of the gesture fanned out through the crowd until everyone was staring at the ceiling in disbelief.
“Fred and George Weasley, I’m going to kill you.” Ginny growled under her breath, wanting to act on the threat right away, but too stunned to even move, “I’m going to kill you so dead that there won’t be enough left for mum to send a Howler to before you’re buried.” She simply couldn’t believe the magnitude of what they’d done.
At first, Ginny thought that a cluster of helium balloons set out for the party had come untethered and floated to the ceiling, but the shape pressing against the ceiling was far too vast to be a cluster of balloons.
It was Genevieve.
Swollen grotesquely to ten times her size, she was clinging feebly to the chandelier with one set of thick, sausage-like fingers while the other tried, vainly, to pull her now insubstantial skirt down over her now inadequate knickers.
“What did you do?” Gin asked coldly.
Fred and George threw up their hands in protest, “Nothing!” They declared at first, but quickly broke down under scrutiny. “She said she didn’t like chocolates!” George protested.
“Yeah!” Fred concurred with his brother, “And besides, they’re just meant to be a little prank for girls that moan about sweets going straight to their hips. To get that big…why, she’d have to have eaten the whole box!”
Draco started to laugh at Genevieve’s predicament, but was stopped by a sharp look from his mum. Narcissa had already started up the steps, followed closely by another chaperone, while Madame Mynuet began herding the debs, and their escorts out the door.
“Can you make it back alone, Gin?” Fred asked, still cowering a bit under his little sister’s glare.
“Fred and I need to stop by the shop and check on a new shipment.” George explained, shifting his weight as if he was desperate for escape.
“I’ll be fine.” Gin assured them, while thinking to herself, unlike how you are going to be when mum hears about this. Before she could say anything else, they hugged him briefly then Apparated away.
Draco was still standing beside her. “Are you coming back to the Manor?” He asked.
“I don’t know.” Ginny responded. “I don’t know if your mother had any plans. In any event, Genevieve won’t be in any shape to…”
“I wasn’t talking about Genevieve…” Draco said, looming suddenly very close, “And I wasn’t inviting you over for etiquette lessons.”
“Oh.” Ginny felt a little shiver run along her spine. Although the front lawns were mobbed with young witches and wizards heading off in their own directions, she felt as if they were all alone.
Draco looked over his shoulder. “Mum’ll be a while.” Draco said in a low whisper, “And Dad’s got meetings in France.”
“All day?”
Draco shrugged, “It’s a big house.” He murmured, still standing so close that she could feel the heat of him through her robes. “I imagine we could find some place to hide.”
It was the look in his eyes that was finally Ginny’s undoing. They were smoky and dark, like the silver swirls of a Pensieve and were regarding her with a shattering intensity.
“Well…I don’t see why not.” Ginny managed at last. She was surprised that she could talk. She didn’t think that she had even remembered to breathe.
Draco nodded his head. Tucking his arm around hers, he led her to the Apparation point on the edge of the lawn. “Ladies first.” He said, standing slightly away.
Ginny Disapparated, reappearing on the lawns of Malfoy Manor. The weather in Wiltshire had taken a turn for the worse. Dark stormclouds boiled overhead. As soon as Draco arrived, Ginny grabbed his hand. “It’s going to rain!” She said, tugging him toward the house, but no sooner had the words been spoken than the prediction became true.
“Run!” She shrieked, laughing as the first, fat drops splattered on her dress, marring the thin silk and matting it to her skin. Neither of the pair thought to cast a shielding charm. Instead, they ran pell-mell toward the house, becoming progressively more bedraggled as they neared the door.
Finally, when they were inside, they stopped, both soaked to the skin, breathless and exhilarated from their run. Ginny bent over, brushing some of her damp hair out of her eyes. She was surprised when she stood and found Draco staring at her giving her the same, oddly intense look as before.
“What is it?” She laughed, putting a hand against her cheek, imagining her ruined makeup and stringy hair, “I look a fright, don’t I?”
“No.” Draco breathed. He took a step forward. Instinctively, Ginny moved back, but found herself pressed against the wall. “You’re perfect.” He breathed. Then he bent forward to press his lips to hers.
Suddenly, the rain streaming down Ginny’s skin felt like wax dripping from a candle. She was melting, burning…It had only been a few days since Draco had last kissed her, but she felt the omission keenly as he reminded her of what she had been missing. Moving without conscious will, her hands clasped round his neck and dragged him closer, deepening his touch.
She could have stayed like that forever, but it wasn’t meant to be. Footsteps echoed in the marble hall, and she pulled away just seconds before they entered the room.
“Draco Malfoy!” Lucius’s voice boomed out. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you for the past half hour!”
Draco turned automatically to his father, the bliss of the snog evaporated, leaving only a clammy pang of dread as he turned to face his father.
“Er…Mr. Malfoy!” Ginny squeaked, “I was…just leaving!” She dipped her head, and then backed her way out of the house, not caring that it was still raining as she raced to the Apparation point, leaving Draco to face his father alone.
Lucius followed her with his eyes, not pulling them away until the distant “pop” from across the lawn announced that she was gone.
“We need to talk.” He said to Draco, his tone and posture betraying nothing as he turned back towards the hall.
Draco accepted the unspoken order to follow, stepping behind his father’s long stride until they reached the study. Draco sank into an armchair opposite the desk, while Lucius stood to pour two glasses of bourbon and offered one to his son.
“I didn’t notice Miss Fougere returning to the Manor.” He remarked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
Draco felt his heart begin to thud nervously in his chest. What was his father implying? It was on the tip of his tongue to make a response when Lucius continued, “She’s with your mother still, I suppose?”
“Yes sir.” Draco mumbled, still not at all sure where this was going, but damn near dead certain that he wasn’t going to like it.
“Delayed, I suppose?”
The insinuation in his voice was unmistakable, and Draco braced himself, knowing that the shoe was about to drop. Lucius knew. Someone had told him what happened at the party.
“Mrs. Fougere had an owl.” Lucius explained, “…or so I was led to believe by her husband. He flooed me at my office about half an hour ago to inquire just what the hell was going on today at that party.” He paused, giving his son a disapproving scowl, “A question which I am now inclined to pose to you.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with it!” Draco protested, jumping to his feet. “I barely even spoke to her.”
“Precisely.” Lucius retorted. “Tell me, Draco- don’t you think that you are taking playing along with your mother’s little game a bit too far?”
“Mum’s game?” Draco blinked, confused.
“Miss Weasley.” Lucius said, “I am aware of the role that she and her brothers played in Miss Fougere’s little…’accident’. Tell me: Do you think that it is kind to her for you to encourage her fantasies about something she can’t possibly have?”
Draco felt his hands begin to shake, “I don’t think that it’s impossible.” He managed in a small voice.
Lucius’s face reflected shock- but not the sort of shock Draco was expecting. “Don’t you?” He said after a pause, “Do you really believe that there is even one iota of hope that she might win that silly little crown?”
“Oh.” Draco exhaled loudly, “You meant the Debutante Ball.”
“Of course I meant the debutante ball!” Lucius snarled, “-whatever else could I have meant?”
Draco thought it best not to answer, a decision that proved wise as his father, either failing to notice or choosing to ignore the omission, continued. “I couldn’t care less about this silly little contest. If Miss Weasley wins. Fine. If Miss Fougere wins, so much the better. I do, however, care about your future and my money- both of which are rather caught up at the moment in keeping the Fougere’s happy and making sure that the merger goes through. I….Draco, are you listening?” Lucius Malfoy frowned and narrowed his eyes at the strange pallor in his son’s cheeks.
“ I’m listening, father.”
“Good. After speaking with Monsieur Fougere I’ve decided that- ah, Narcissa." Lucius stopped speaking as his wife entered the room. She gave her son a questioning look, and then drifted to where her husband was standing, accepting a quick kiss before she spoke.
“I’ve just back from St. Mungo’s, Lucius. They were able to reverse the spell.”
Lucius dipped his head in acknowledgment, “Well, that’s a relief, at least.” He offered Narcissa his chair, which she declined to take, “I was just telling your son that our plans for France have changed.”
“Oh?” Narcissa’s voice was even, but she shared an alarmed glance with Draco.
“Yes. Monsieur Fougere would like to move forward with the merger as soon as possible. We won’t be able to really start business until fourth quarter, but he wants Draco as soon as possible.”
“But Lucius!” Narcissa protested faintly, “He’s got the ball…and the party.”
“You can manage without him.”
“I can manage, but I don’t want to.” Narcissa retorted hotly, showing a bit more teeth than she usually put on display, “I’ve planned this entire event around Draco’s birthday, and I’m not going to have it ruined because Henri Fougere’s daughter decided to make herself into a pig.”
“Narcissa, don’t start.” Lucius warned, but Draco was reminded of exactly how it was that he had ended up at Hogwarts instead of Durmstrang, and had been named Draco instead of Titus, and a hundred other small matters that his mother has choosen to insist upon throughout his life.
“No, don’t you start, Lucius Malfoy!” Narcissa thundered, completely uncowed by his warning. “Draco has until his birthday to make up his mind and his birthday is not for another two weeks. He isn’t going to Apparate so much as a toe into France until the clock strikes twelve if I’ve got anything to say about it, and unless you’ve forgotten Lucius Malfoy- I do.”
Lucius’s eyes narrowed to slits. “We’ve both discussed how Draco needs some direction. Since he seems disinclined to pick one for himself…”
“Disinclined so far.” Narcissa corrected, “He still has time.”
“Time that he’s wasting!” Lucius hissed, “He doesn’t have anything to tie him here- or anyone. He’d be better off in France sooner rather than later.”
Draco had been nearly convinced that both of his parents had forgotten his presence entirely, but now they whirled around in tandem to face him.
“Well?” Narcissa prodded.
“Well, what?” Draco mumbled uncomfortably.
“Don’t you have something that you want to tell your father?”
Draco swallowed.
“I’m in love with Ginny Weasley.”
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