Chapter 19
The Storm
~*~
The rainstorm blew itself out during the night. By the time Ginny Weasley Apparated to Wiltshire for tea, the sky was blue and the sun was bright- a perfect reflection of her mood. She had never been looking forward to the visit more. The nerves which had plagued her at the beginning of the summer were gone, and even the prospect of passing an afternoon with Genevieve Fougere was not enough to dampen her excitement at the prospect of showing Narcissa her dress.
Ginny was shown into the Parlor as soon as she arrived. Draco was there. Remembering the night before, she shot him a dazzling smile. The look faltered on her face, however as she noted the hollow darkness in his face. Confused, Ginny turned toward Narcissa, surprised by the odd tension in Mrs. Malfoy’s own features. The only person in the drawing room who didn’t appear out of sorts was Genevieve, nibbling a crumpet, looking positively smug.
Narcissa’s usual ebullient greeting was muted, “Ginevra, dear.” She said simply, half-rising and gesturing toward a chair. “We started without you.”
“I apologize for being late.” In spite of the unusual reception, Ginny’s spirits were undimmed. “I wanted to finish pressing my dress.”
“Your dress?” For once, Genevieve looked genuinely interested in one of Ginny’s remarks- no doubt anticipating the pleasure she would have poking fun at it, Ginny thought, gleeful at the notion of robbing that pleasure. “I didn’t know you had a dress.’
“Of course I have a dress.” Ginny said smoothly, taking the parcel out of her pocket and deminiaturizing it with her wand. It was still wrapped in muslin, and so she positioned it to full effect before she drew the cloth away.
Narcissa gasped in pleasure, and even Genevieve couldn’t hide a look of amazement, though she took care to twist it into a scornful frown as soon as she became aware that Ginny was looking.
“Why it’s lovely dear, don’t you think so, Draco?” She asked, shooting her son a significant look.
“Of course, mother.” He replied blandly.
“Wherever did you find that thing?”
Ginny ignored Genevieve’s tone, happily recalling the jealousy that had tainted the French girl’s features only a few minutes before
“It was custom made.” She replied loftily. It was the truth, and her rival was free to reach any sort of conclusion from that statement that she wanted. “I haven’t had the fittings yet, but it’s really even better on.”
“Oh, I’d love to see that.” Narcissa remarked, “Draco, be a dear and take Ginny upstairs so that she can change.”
“She already knows where the rooms are.” The vehemence in Genevieve’s voice was pronounced, but Narcissa ignored her.
“Draco.”
“Yes, mum.” Reluctantly, he rose to his feet and started up the hall, Ginny Weasley following in his wake.
“What’s the matter with all of you?” She snapped as soon as they were out of sight. “What’s happened? Last night-“
“-was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Ginny felt her blood run cold, and she stopped in the middle of the hall, her happiness about the dress forgotten.
“Not a mistake.” Draco recanted quickly, “Just…ill-advised.”
Ginny began to breathe again as understanding sat in, bringing with it a hot anger that rewarmed her limbs. “I see that you’ve spoken with your father.”
“No!” Draco protested, “I mean- yes, only not how you mean…Gin! Its…it’s…complicated.”
“Complicated?” Ginny’s ponytail swished angrily as she rounded a corner, “The only complications between us are ones created by you Draco Malfoy.” She said, perhaps unfairly.
“Gin…” He sighed, running a hand through his white-blonde hair. Taking a deep breath, he finally confessed, “I’m going to France.”
At last, Ginny stopped walking. “France? What? When? Why?”
“I’m leaving tomorrow.” Draco answered, “Dad needs me to run the new company and…”
“To marry you off to Genevieve to seal the deal.”
“I’m did not agree to marry Genevieve!” He protested, hotly.
“Yet.” She sniffed, but then her attention caught on something else. “You agreed?”
“Yes.” Draco sighed, “It was my idea, actually.” He lifted a hand to request silence. “Mum and Dad have always said that I lack direction and…well, they’re right. I’m lucky to have so many opportunities thrust into my lap. Sitting around and not doing anything with my life is lazy and ungrateful.”
“And what you want is a career in Cauldrons???”
“It’s a place to start!” Draco defended himself. “Malfoy Industries has never expanded much onto the continent. We have a few of the old Black holdings in France, but with the new Muggle Union trade restrictions we could really-”
“Stop it!”
“Stop what.”
“Pretending to care.”
Draco’s cheeks flushed, “Maybe I’m not pretending.”
“Oh, please Draco.” She couldn’t stop herself, “Seventh year, all you wanted was to play Quidditch. The year before that it was a career in potions- you were going to invent the cure for the Sleeping Curse. Cauldrons aren’t anything that interests you, they’re just the path of least resistance- for now.”
“Why don’t you quit talking about things you know nothing about!”
“Why don’t you just decide what you want!”
Draco stopped, his face contorted into an angry scowl. He stopped in front of a mahogany door and wrenched it open with his hand. “You’re one to talk, Ginny Weasley.” He said coldly, glowering at her for a minute, then he turned, “You can change in there, he snapped, and then he walked away.
Ginny watched him go, mouth agape, wondering what had just gone wrong. Was Draco really going away? Going away and leaving things like this? She had to force her feet to carry her body to the center of the room, to undo the fastenings of her robes. She stood in front of the mirror in knickers and her bra, staring at her tear-stained face. Her eyes caught on a glint of metal and, instinctively, her hands moved to the chain around her neck. She traced it with her index finger, finally hooking it through the smooth circle of Draco’s ring.
“Oh, Draco.” She whispered quietly, “I don’t know what you want…I don’t know what I want either, but I know this isn’t it.”
Silent tears slid down her cheeks.
Distracted, she didn’t notice the approach of footsteps in the hall. She didn’t see Genevieve Fougere’s face peek inside the door, blue eyes widening at the sight of Draco’s ring. She didn’t hear the door click closed again.
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