Chapter 21
The Ball
It was finally the morning of the ball.
“Ginny, dear! I’ve made breakfast.” Molly Weasley said, and poked her head into her only daughter’s room. She smiled to see that Ginny was still asleep. As soon as the girl woke up, Mrs. Weasley swept inside, laying the parcel that she was carrying across the foot of her bed. It was Ginny’s gown. “I went ahead and pressed it, dear.” Molly said, “I didn’t want the ghoul to get it- you know how careless it can be sometimes.”
Ginny smiled. The anti-wrinkling charms that Molly had applied while adjusting the dress assured that there wouldn’t be any creases regardless of what the ghoul did, or how carelessly Ginny sat, but she merely smiled and bobbed her head.
“There’s toast and tea on the table.” Molly said, fussing with the folds of the dress.
“I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble, mum. I’m sure that Narcissa expected me to eat at the Manor, I-”
“Oh! That reminds me!” Molly stood and faced her daughter, “You had a call.”
“A call?” Ginny felt the back of her neck prickle with excitement- had it been Draco?
“Narcissa Malfoy flooed this morning. She’s terribly upset, poor dear.”
Ginny couldn’t help but smile at the way Molly’s feelings regarding Mrs. Malfoy had softened over the course of the summer. She had begun the season known as “that woman” but had now been elevated to the lofty height of “dear”.
“There’s been some sort of terrible to-doing at the Manor, couldn’t get it all out of her, poor dear- horrible thing to happen on the day of the ball.”
Ginny’s eyes flashed with worry, “Oh, everyone’s okay.” Molly assured her, “As near as I can tell there was a problem with one of the hired workers that they brought in- somebody skulking around. In any event, they’ve got Aurors over from the Ministry and- well, you can guess that’s an uncomfortable visit for a Malfoy. She asked that you just not come over until the ball tonight.”
“Oh.” Ginny replied, not really excited by the prospect of an entire day to squander on her own.
It turned out that she ought not to have worried. Molly’s own planning sprang into the gap. Ginny had barely put down her fork from breakfast before she was caught up in the whirlwind of the day. It seemed that Mrs. Weasley had been hoping for such an opportunity. Molly had been to the library in London and checked out every book on beauty potions available. Ginny hoped that Fred and George’s experiment from the night before had been thoroughly scourgified from the pots before they began.
As the day wore on, Ginny was forced to admit that she was having fun. She and her mother had never really had a chance to sit around and giggle like girls before. Truthfully, Ginny had never really considered her mother very much simply as a person- as Molly Weasley- rather than her mum. She was touched by the effort that her mother had thrown into making the day special, and fascinated by new insights into her mother’s life.
“The night before my ball, I went into Diagon Alley with the other Rookwood girls.” She said, taking a sip of lemonade as she and Ginny cooled their heels in a bath of foot salts. “My cousin Orangiana bought an engorgement charm in Knockturn Alley to help her fill out her dress.” She grinned at the memory, looking uncannily like her mischievous sons, “Her mum had to pry her into it with a shoehorn the next day! Then, when she was dancing, she lost her balance and pitched over headfirst into the punch.” Her faded eyes crinkled into mirth.
“She didn’t!” Ginny laughed, privately thinking that this was just the sort of thing that Genevieve might do.
“She did!” Molly allowed herself another chuckle, but she gasped as she looked at the clock. “Goodness! We’ve got to get you dressed!” Flicking her wand at the pots and potions lying around, she set them to cleaning themselves and herded her daughter upstairs. Carefully following the instructions in the latest Witch Weekly, she bound up Ginny’s hair in a styling charm, securing it with a sprig of orange blossoms that Pigwidgen had carried in special that morning from Spain.
The only thing left was the dress. Ginny turned toward her mother, extending her arms as the older woman carefully eased the garment over her head, then turned her toward the her reflection.
“Exquisite, dear!” The kindly old looking glass sighed.
Molly’s eyes were bright with tears. “Oh, Ginny!” She said in a wavering tone, but was unable to control her emotions enough to say more. She called Arthur to bring the camera, and they took pictures of Ginny in the dress: Standing in front of the mirror, waving from the parlor, standing under the trees on the lawn.
Finally, Ginny was permitted a moment alone. She went back to her room and double-checked the charm on her hair, and the glamours of colour on her lips and cheeks and eyes.
“Ginevra!” All too soon, Molly was calling for her again, “Oliver’s here.”
Taking a breath, Ginny started toward the door.
Oliver Wood, Keeper for Puddlemere United, was waiting in the hall. He had agreed to be Ginny’s escort as a favor to the twins. Ginny couldn't help but admire the way that the formal robes hugged his trim, fit figure. He really was exceedingly good looking, and the warm smile that he gave her would have been enough to melt any other girl's knees.
She sighed, another time, another place, another life, it might have been different... Oliver was very handsome, but she couldn’t deny that her heart wanted it to be Draco standing at the foot of the stairs.
“You look smashing, Gin.” Oliver said, giving her the sort of smile he usually reserved for new brooms. In spite of the nervous tension twisting in her stomach, she couldn’t help but reciprocate the gesture.
“So do you.” She answered, sliding her arm in his. “Shall we go?”
“We shall.”
Ginny’s white dress, combined with the practical consideration of the sheer number of arrivals expected at Malfoy Manor that night, dictated that the couple could not arrive by floo. The invitation had been made into a Portkey set to activate at a particular time. Sliding her hand into Oliver’s, Ginny waited for it to work.
It wasn’t long before the familiar tugging just below her navel took hold. When Ginny opened her eyes again she was standing in the Malfoy Gazebo (the floor of which had been thoughtfully covered with a Persian rug to cushion the falls of white-dress-wearers who couldn’t keep their feet).
Even in the arrivals area, Narcissa had outdone herself. All around, the air was filled with light. What looked like thousands of tiny snowflake fairies had been released, and were hovering around the grounds, twinkling with magical light.
The façade of the Manor was, likewise, illuminated. Bathed in spotlights, it looked more impressive than ever. Perhaps illogically, Ginny felt her chest swell with pride as she was escorted across the marble threshold.
Apparently, Ginny had been given one of the later Portkeys, because the house was already filled with arrivals. Many of the guests were unfamiliar to her: members of “Old Guard” families taking their first look at the crop of debutantes. She couldn’t help but smile at the line of blue haired, thin-lipped old ladies that stood against the hall, frankly appraising the girls who stepped inside. She skimmed the crowd hopefully, but saw no sign of Draco at all.
Because of the staggered Portkeys, there was no receiving line or formal announcement of arrivals until the Debutantes were presented at the ball. Oliver and Ginny were led to their seats at a long table, to partake of a sumptuous meal.
Ginny knew that she was still being graded. The final winner of the competition- very likely Genevieve or herself- would be decided that night. Still, she was too preoccupied to expend much effort, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the dainty gestures and polite manners that she had practiced all summer came without thinking now.
Dinner ended with a speech from Madame Mynuet, and then the ball began. Ginny had been informed in advance that the non-debutante guests would be invited to mingle together for a while, and to take an opportunity to look over the girls (Though “On pain of death,” Madame Mynuet had warned with convincing emphasis, the debutantes were not to permit a dance until after their formal presentation that night). Ginny tried to look interested in what was going on, but couldn’t. She was too painfully aware of the advancing hours: Nine o’clock and no Draco. Ten o’clock. Eleven…
If he didn’t appear before midnight, there would be no way to avoid his engagement with Genevieve. Had she misunderstood the letter? Did he mean to stay in France?
“Will our debutantes please gather in the front hall?”
Mrs. Greengrass began circulating through the crowded ballroom, singling out the white-clad ladies and herding them out of the room, “Ladies, this way please…gentlemen, take a seat.”
Ginny was about to give Oliver her excuses when a slightly older girl came forward.
“Oliver Wood? I haven’t seen you in ages!”
Ginny and her escort both turned toward a cheerful voice. Anne Greenbugg, a girl who had graduated with the twins, was walking across the hall. Ginny vaguely remembered that the Slytherin girl had been a particular fan of Quidditch during Wood’s final year as captain of the Gryffindor team. There had been rampant speculation that, if not for house politics, she would have been more likely clad in scarlet, than in green for the weekend matches. Wearing in a pale silk dress, Elaine looked radiant. Ginny grinned at the definite spark of interest in Oliver’s eyes. The girl murmured a polite greeting to Ginny, and then gave all of her attention to Mr. Wood.
“How have you been, Oliver?” She gushed, lightly touching his arm, “I saw the Paladin’s game last week. Those Bludgers were really flying! I thought Slater was going to get knocked off his broom!”
Succumbing to Quidditch’s siren call (Ginny had to give Miss Greenbugg a deal of credit for her choice of conversation), Oliver began to loosen his grip on Ginny’s arm. She let him go. “Why don’t you see if Miss Greenbugg knows where the escorts are meant to wait.” She told him, nudging him away, “I have to go get ready for the presentation.” And take one more look for Draco… She thought to herself.
With a grateful nod, Oliver agreed, bustling off with Elaine while Ginny continued her search. At least, she could no longer avoid Mrs. Greengrass, and obediently followed the other girls to be sorted into an alphabetically ordered receiving line. Madame Mynuet thumped her cane on the Marble floor commanding silence, and then the final inspection began.
Looking positively regal in ice-blue silk, Narcissa Malfoy, was walking with Madame Mynuet do a final appraisal of the girls. Sulky but handsome, Lucius followed in their wake, listening patiently to his wife’s introductions and welcoming each girl into his home.
Since Weasley began with “W”, Ginny was near the end of the line. She waited nervously for her turn, still praying with every breath that Draco would appear. She still wasn’t willing to think of the consequences if he did not.
A tall grandfather clock was next to her in the hall, and every heavy swing of the pendulum was like an ominous footstep, trudging closer to her doom.
At last, it was Ginny’s turn to be presented. Narcissa’s murmured a final compliment to Jerrica Wallis, the girl ahead of Ginny in the line, and then shifted her attention to Miss Weasley. Her lips curled automatically into a friendly smile. Then, her jaw fell open and she moved to cover a horrified gasp.
Ginny didn’t know what had changed. One moment Narcissa had been looking her over with approval, but suddenly her eyes reflected something much darker: Betrayal? Pain? It didn’t make sense!
She was staring at Ginny’s throat.
“W-where did you get that necklace?” Narcissa managed, still blinking and looking partly in shock.
“It was a gift.” Ginny said carefully, unsure if she ought to disclose Draco’s role.
“Liar!” Lucius’s voice rose above his wife’s. He stalked forward, looking furious. “She STOLE it!” he hissed, then wrenched the jewels from Ginny’s throat, “I ought to have known better than to let a Weasley into my house!”
“No!” Ginny too a step back, her hand going to her neck, instinctively shielding the necklace in dispute. “Why would I steal your necklace? It was a present…”
“A present?” Lucius sneered, “A jewel like that? Who could you possibly know with a house worth that much money?”
“Lucius!” Narcissa, still looking pale, laid her hand on the crook of his arm, gently restraining him, “We should listen to the girl. She’s right- it doesn’t make sense.” Blue eyes skimmed the room, restlessly “Who gave you the gift, Miss Weasley?” She asked softly.
“I-“ Ginny swallowed Draco’s name. She couldn’t betray him now. Even if she dared- she stole a glance at Mr. Malfoy, looking every bit the murderer that he was alleged to be- Lucius would rather she robbed him blind than publicly admit to a relationship with his son, debutante or not. “Someone had it delivered to the Burrow.” She managed at last.
“Someone had it delivered to the Burrow?” Lucius repeated in a mocking tone, “Thieves are using owl-order these days? Whatever will they think of next?”
“I didn’t take it!” Ginny protested again. “I swear it!”
“You can swear it under Veritaserum to the Aurors!” Mr. Malfoy growled, then turned, as if it was his full intention to floo the Department of Magical Law Enforcement straight away.
“Not now, Lucius!” Narcissa’s voice was firmer as she yanked on her husband’s sleeve, bringing him to a stop.
“Narcissa…” Lucius began impatiently, “We must…”
“We must do nothing.” Narcissa said tightly, “I will call the authorities concerning my necklace when and if I determine that there is a need to do so.”
“You aren’t just going to let her stay here?” Lucius looked incredulous. “You aren’t-“
Another voice broke over Mr. Malfoy’s- Genevieve’s voice:
“We can prove that she took it!”
Odile oozed out of the crowd, sliding up next to her daughter: “Eet ees not zee only zing zat she stole!”
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