Chapter 5
The Date
Ginny spent the beginning of the week in a warm haze. She wasn't sure when she had first decided that Malfoy wasn't a completely obnoxious git or rather, when she had decided that maybe he was, but it didn't bother her. Nevertheless, her feelings had definitely changed.
She hadn't spoken to Draco all week. Their contact was limited to brief glances in the hall, or stolen looks in the Great Hall over meals, but every once in a while she would catch his eyes, and sometime earn a smile to let her know that Saturday night was definitely still on.
Her attention was so focused on Saturday night, that she barely noticed it at breakfast Tuesday morning when a handsome brown owl swooped down with the morning post and deposited a heavy vellum envelope into her lap. Her eyes were trained on the doors to the Hall, waiting for Draco to arrive. Without looking, she shuffled it into the small pile of notes from her brothers and mum.
“Oooh! What's that one, Ginny?” Hermione asked, leaning over to get a better look.
Ginny frowned. “What's what?”
“Your letter!” Hermione reached over the youngest Weasley and retrieved the item from the pile. “Beautiful paper.” She commented. “Looks expensive.”
The word “Expensive” caught her attention at last. Ginny plucked the letter from Hermione's fingers and turned it over in her hands.
The parchment envelope was translucent with a silky finished, and it was sealed with golden wax. Ginny ran her fingers over the embossed image. “I don't recognize the crest.” She said with a hint of disappointment.
“Open it!” Hermione begged.
Acting carefully to preserve the pretty stationary, Ginny broke the seal and removed a heavy rectangle of cardstock. “It's an invitation!” She said in surprise. Then, opening it, she read:
Mr. and Mrs. Smidley Wandsworth Parkinson request the honour of your presence at a celebration in honor of their daughter
Pansy Camellia Hyacinth Rose
on the occasion of her 18th birthday Saturday, the eleventh of December at eight o'clock in the evening
The Glass Slipper, Diagon Alley, London
“Wow! The Slipper!” Hermione said, after a moment of silence. “Seems a bit of a waste on Parkinson.”
Ginny frowned, but didn't otherwise react to the slur against her friend. Her mind was already racing with thoughts about the party.
The Glass Slipper was one of the oldest, and easily the most exclusive restaurant in Wizarding London. Accordingly, it was also the most expensive, so Ginny knew of it only by reputation. Still- what a reputation it had! Witch Weekly was always full of pictures of the latest celebrity wizards and their leggy dates wandering in and out of its oak-paneled doors.
Over the past months, Ginny had suffered numerous pangs of jealousy unintentionally administered at the hand of her Slytherin friend, but she had never felt it so acutely as when she read the invitation to the Parkinson's party. She could already picture the scene in her mind: the hushed luxury of the restaurant, its stillness broken only by the clink of silver on china, the deep plush chairs, and the flicker of candlelight glinting through leaded crystal. She imagined herself in Pansy's place, swathed in white organza, waiting at the head of a flower-covered table to greet her friends.
Pansy would be a debutante next summer, she presumed. It was a tradition among Pureblood girls that, prior to their debuts, they were presented to family friends at a formal party, and she assumed that the birthday celebration held this purpose. The Weasley's were poor, but still related to enough pure blood families that Ginny had attended her share of parties, though never really as a guest. It wasn't fitting for a girl her age to mix among the grown-ups. Typically she was consigned, along with her younger cousins, to the kitchens or the nursery, and permitted to watch the gatherings only from afar. Still, she had seen enough to fill her daydreams for years to come as she waited for the day that it would be her turn.
Now that she was older Ginny understood, with the grim certainty of a girl who had always poor, that her turn would never come. Because of the month that her birthday fell, next summer would, technically, be her deb year too, though she didn't have any expectations of a season like Pansy would. Her parents would try, as best they could, to make her 18th birthday special. There would be a dinner at the house. Molly, and Ginny's aunts would slave for days to turn out a delicious meal, and the Burrow would look its best, she might even get new robes for the occasion, but it simply wouldn't be the same. Like so many other things in her life, she would have to learn to settle for second best.
Sighing, Ginny tucked the envelope into her bag. At least she still had Saturday night to look forward to.
Even though time seemed intent on moving as slowly as possible, the weekend finally arrived. Ginny had barely seen Pansy during the week. Saturday morning Neville Longbottom passed on a note telling her to meet the Slytherin girl outside the owlery.
Ginny smiled. Outside. That meant the Snake Pit. The Snake Pit meant dim, enclosed spaces. Dim enclosed spaces meant...
Snap out of it, Ginny! She ordered herself. She knew that she was probably reading too much into Draco's words outside the Great Hall on Monday. Maybe he wasn't interested in her that way at all. Still, he was damn cute, and she'd been cheated out of too many fantasies this week already. She'd let herself indulge for a while.
Ginny took extra care with her grooming that evening, using Hermione's Password to sneak into the Prefect's bathroom for a long, perfumed soak, and then spending a ridiculous amount of time on her hair. She twisted the copper locks into a casual knot on top of her head, then let a few loose tendrils fall around her shoulders. She was uncertain about what to wear. Robes seemed too formal(and all of her favorites were embarrassingly threadbare anyway), and pants weren't feminine enough to match her hair. She needed a skirt- but nothing too Muggle. Rooting through her drawers, she found a pleated uniform skirt that Had never been worn. Molly had been ecstatic to discover it, sitting in the second-hand bin with the tags from Madame Malkin's still affixed. After taking it home, however, they had discovered the reason for the bargain. It was slightly irregular. The hem was too short, and the waistband pinched. It wasn't practical for school, but for tonight, it might be manageable.
Pulling the skirt up over her hips, Ginny yanked the zip as high as it would go, and then wound a piece of yarn around the button, tying it through the button hole to hold it closed. It looked stable. If she wore a long top, no one would be the wiser.
The shortened hem was less of a problem. Even though Ginny's legs had lengthened since her mother bought the skirt, she wasn't adverse to the way that the flirty pleats showed them off. The only question was whether her knickers would show.
After a few careful manipulations in front of the mirror, she convinced herself that wasn't the case.
The finishing touch was a clingy jumper. It was green with a dragon on the front. It had been Harry's once, if she recalled correctly, but Draco need never know. The lines which had been bulky on an eleven year old boy clung to her burgeoning breasts deliciously.
“I don't think that your mother would like that very much, dear.” The mirror chastised gently.
Ginny's lips curled in pleasure. She could imagine no better confirmation that she had achieved the desired effect.
By the time Ginny had finished adjusting her clothes, she was five minutes late for meeting Pansy. She flew down the steps from Gryffindor tower, tore through the corridors and finally sprinted out the front door to head toward the owlery.
As she had suspected, Pansy was already waiting, buffing her nails and looking bored. Her expression changed when she looked at Ginny. “Well, well, this is certainly a change."
Ginny stopped as Pansy's mocking, if friendly, voice reached her ears. "Let me look you over."
Suddenly unsure of her decision about what to wear, Ginny was slow to comply. Finally, with coaxing, she completed a small turn.
“Interesting.” Pansy pronounced at last.
“Interesting?” Ginny's stomach twisted. “`Interesting good' or `interesting weird'?”
“Interesting `I'm-wondering-who-you're-trying-to-put-the-moves-on', Weasley.” Pansy said. “It's twenty degrees out here. Either you want to treat somebody to an eyeful of leg, consequences be damned, or you like having pneumonia.”
Ginny shrugged. “Hey, whatever's clean.”
Pansy rolled her eyes, but didn't question further. Ginny, however, found it hard to hide her confusion. Hadn't Draco told Pansy anything about the `date'? She trailed behind the other girl, chewing her lip nervously. What if he hadn't meant anything other than that they'd see each other in the Snake Pit? Maybe she shouldn't go up to him right away. Maybe she should try talking to someone else- Blaise or Nott- and see what happened then.
Her thoughts were cut off by the appearance of the object of them, looking edible in charcoal trousers, a black cashmere jumper, and a Slytherin- crested cloak. He was leaning against a wall looking like a lazy predator. "Sorry, Pansy, but I'm going to have to steal your pet Gryffie."
Pansy snickered. "Sorry, he's waiting to meet me in an hour down at the greenhouses. I'll let him know you care, though."
Draco screwed up his face in disgust, obviously still trying to cope with the idea of Pansy Parkinson and Neville Longbottom. “Nice, Pans.” He said tensely. His expression softened somewhat, however, as he turned to Ginny.
Ginny suddenly knew how a glass of pumpkin juice felt sliding down a thirsty man's throat. Draco was drinking in her appearance, from the crown of her head to the rounded toes of her Mary Jane shoes with his cloudy grey eyes. A little shiver of anticipation trembled through her nerves as her skin flushed scarlet.
“I actually wanted to borrow the Weaslette.” He said coolly.
“Oh?” Pansy arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow and then looked slowly between her housemate and her Gryffindor friend with dawning comprehension. “Well, well, when did this happen?" Pansy offered an approving leer, and Ginny's face turned even redder. "Never mind, you can tell me later.”
Draco slid his arm under Ginny's and steered her back toward the castle as Pansy called out behind them. “Have fun kids, don't do anything I wouldn't do!”
“What does that leave?” Ginny muttered, causing Draco to flinch.
“With Longbottom? Please- I just ate dinner.”
In spite of herself, Ginny giggled. “Sorry.”
She walked obediently beside him for a ways until they made a sharp left outside the great hall and wandered down a flight of stairs that she had never used before.
“Where are we going?” She asked nervously as the passage became narrow and dim.
“I thought we'd look for the other half of your skirt.” Draco said, in top Malfoy form, but a smile broke out a moment later. “Not too much further. There's something I thought that you might like to see.”
Ginny nodded, but curled her arm tighter around his own as they stopped walking down and turned into a corridor of almost pitch blackness.
Draco withdrew his wand from his robes. “Lumos,” he said crisply, and its tip sparkled to life, casting a soft glow on the surrounding stone walls. Bathed in the faint light, Ginny made out that they were in a storeroom of some sort.
Flour, sugar, and canned goods were stacked on shelves along one wall, but items of less certain origin and use were strewn about as well, some draped with white cloths, and others buried under layers of pale dust.
Draco led her to the far corner of the room where an ancient cupboard was wedged against the wall. In the faint light of Draco's wand, she could see that one of the cabinets was slightly opened, and seemed to be emitting a soft trilling sound. Draco handed her Ginny his wand, and then reached forward carefully, opening the door widely so that they could peer inside.
“It's okay.” He said in a whisper, and gestured that Ginny should take a look.
Curiously, she leaned forward and saw what appeared to be five tiny babies, none of them more than two inches long, asleep in a nest made from a grey cashmere sock.
“Fairies.” Draco said softly. “Devon Pinks, I think.”
Peering more closely, Ginny saw that, in fact, he was right. Each of the miniature infants had a pair of immature, gossamer wings folded on its back, and all but one were topped with a shock of hot pink hair.
“They hatched last week.” Draco said, his voice still no more than a whisper. “I heard `em crying and came to look. You don't see the babies much. Their mothers like to keep them hidden- I figured that you'd like to see them. You seem...in to that `Magical Creatures' stuff.”
Ginny arched an eyebrow. “You seem to know an awful lot about them for Someone who's not into that `Magical Creatures' stuff.”
“I don't mind it,” Draco shrugged, nonplussed. “- as long as we aren't studying Hippogryffs.” He qualified the statement. “Or skrewts.” He added a moment later.
“Or ....hell, everything that Hagrid shows us is bloody awful.” He seemed to take note of Ginny's souring expression and quickly changed the course of his comments. “Fairies are okay, though. We've got lots in mother's rose garden back home. She grows cabbage roses for them, special.”
Ginny frowned, sharply. Like Draco's compassion, the idea of a fairy garden was hard to reconcile with her idea of the Malfoy's. It was so shocking, in fact, that she blurted. “Your mum grows roses?”
Draco's lip curled. “What else is she going to put in a garden?”
Ginny flushed. “I dunno...” she said reluctantly, while thinking to herself: Belladonna, Nightshade, Venus fly traps...
The boy continued to demonstrate his eerie propensity to read Ginny's mind.
“Don't worry. She's got the nasty stuff too- just doesn't keep it in the formal gardens anymore- kept killing the lunch guests.”
Ginny didn't have a chance to ascertain whether Draco's words were spoken in seriousness or in jest. One of the fairy babies stirred, and fixed on her with lavender eyes no larger than a peppercorn. “It's so cute!” She cooed, starting to reach forward, but Draco stopped her.
A bolt of warmth shot upwards from her fingers and spread through her entire body as he clasped her hand in his own.
“Better not do that.” He said quietly. “If they get the scent of wizard on them, their mother will throw them out of the nest.” He gestured to the sock. “I had to charm the smell off that before I put it in.”
“You put the sock in there?” She said, not meaning for her voice to convey such clear disbelief.
“Yeah well- their teeth were chattering. Bloody annoying, actually.”
Ginny felt a pang as his hand dropped hers. “What were you doing down here, anyways?”
She was met with another shrug. “I just like to come down here sometimes. You know- to get away.”
“Get away from what?” She frowned.
“I don't know- Crabbe and Goyle, mostly, I guess. Parkinson. Zabini.” He shrugged. “I mean, it is strange here at school, isn't it? Having so many people around all the time?”
This time it was Ginny's turn to lift her shoulders equivocally. “Feels the same to me. There were always a ton of people at home too. Being the youngest, well- I didn't get much time to myself. It must be strange- being alone. I bet it's nice.”
“It is sometimes.” Draco nodded. After a moment's pause, he asked: “Why'd they do it anyways?”
“They?”
“Your parents. Why'd they have so many of you?”
Ginny's hackles began to rise, but the look on Draco's face was so Unexpectedly guileless and sincere that she answered. “I'm not sure. The just wanted to, I guess. Mum loves babies. Now that Ron and I are almost grown and out of the house, she hardly knows what to do with herself. She won't give Bill and Charlie a moment's peace.”
“Bill and Charlie?”
“My two oldest brothers.” Ginny explained. “She's always after them to get married and settle down- not that she is really prepared to turn over nagging them to a daughter-in-law, mind you!” Ginny couldn't help but chuckle. “It's just the only way she reckons to get a grandchild- grandchildren. We've all been ordered to produce a minimum of five...What about your parents?”
“Mine?
“Yeah. Why don't you have any brothers or sisters?”
Draco frowned, sharply. “I don't know. I guess my parent's figured that one was enough.”
“Doesn't your mum like babies?”
”She liked me.”
“Seriously- she's never started demanding grandchildren from you?”
”I'm seventeen, Weaslette!” Draco responded, and then muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “No bloody wonder” but Ginny let it slide.
“Speaking of Mums...” She nodded once more toward the fairies. “I wonder where theirs is?”
It was at almost that exact moment that the mother in question chose to appear, buzzing in an angry circle as soon as she saw the young wizards poking into her nest.
“Uh-oh.” Draco said quietly. With a gentle prod, he tried to draw Ginny away.
Unfortunately, she didn't take the hint. She was too transfixed by the baby that had come awake. He was still staring at her, blinking slowly and waving his chubby miniature arms in tight circles.
“Go, now!” Draco barked.
Something in the tone of his voice must have upset the infant, because it broke into a sudden, sharp wail that was surprisingly loud for a creature of its size.
The mother fairy, already agitated, dove to attack.
Draco pinched Ginny's arm and wrenched her forward toward the hall, but didn't have time to remove himself. A thin strand of blue light crackled from the fairies tiny wand and hit him just above his wrist.
“Owwww!” He yelped, finally dashing away. Ginny had stopped, and was staring. “Don't just stand there, Weaslette- run!”
The Date
Ginny spent the beginning of the week in a warm haze. She wasn't sure when she had first decided that Malfoy wasn't a completely obnoxious git or rather, when she had decided that maybe he was, but it didn't bother her. Nevertheless, her feelings had definitely changed.
She hadn't spoken to Draco all week. Their contact was limited to brief glances in the hall, or stolen looks in the Great Hall over meals, but every once in a while she would catch his eyes, and sometime earn a smile to let her know that Saturday night was definitely still on.
Her attention was so focused on Saturday night, that she barely noticed it at breakfast Tuesday morning when a handsome brown owl swooped down with the morning post and deposited a heavy vellum envelope into her lap. Her eyes were trained on the doors to the Hall, waiting for Draco to arrive. Without looking, she shuffled it into the small pile of notes from her brothers and mum.
“Oooh! What's that one, Ginny?” Hermione asked, leaning over to get a better look.
Ginny frowned. “What's what?”
“Your letter!” Hermione reached over the youngest Weasley and retrieved the item from the pile. “Beautiful paper.” She commented. “Looks expensive.”
The word “Expensive” caught her attention at last. Ginny plucked the letter from Hermione's fingers and turned it over in her hands.
The parchment envelope was translucent with a silky finished, and it was sealed with golden wax. Ginny ran her fingers over the embossed image. “I don't recognize the crest.” She said with a hint of disappointment.
“Open it!” Hermione begged.
Acting carefully to preserve the pretty stationary, Ginny broke the seal and removed a heavy rectangle of cardstock. “It's an invitation!” She said in surprise. Then, opening it, she read:
Mr. and Mrs. Smidley Wandsworth Parkinson request the honour of your presence at a celebration in honor of their daughter
Pansy Camellia Hyacinth Rose
on the occasion of her 18th birthday Saturday, the eleventh of December at eight o'clock in the evening
The Glass Slipper, Diagon Alley, London
“Wow! The Slipper!” Hermione said, after a moment of silence. “Seems a bit of a waste on Parkinson.”
Ginny frowned, but didn't otherwise react to the slur against her friend. Her mind was already racing with thoughts about the party.
The Glass Slipper was one of the oldest, and easily the most exclusive restaurant in Wizarding London. Accordingly, it was also the most expensive, so Ginny knew of it only by reputation. Still- what a reputation it had! Witch Weekly was always full of pictures of the latest celebrity wizards and their leggy dates wandering in and out of its oak-paneled doors.
Over the past months, Ginny had suffered numerous pangs of jealousy unintentionally administered at the hand of her Slytherin friend, but she had never felt it so acutely as when she read the invitation to the Parkinson's party. She could already picture the scene in her mind: the hushed luxury of the restaurant, its stillness broken only by the clink of silver on china, the deep plush chairs, and the flicker of candlelight glinting through leaded crystal. She imagined herself in Pansy's place, swathed in white organza, waiting at the head of a flower-covered table to greet her friends.
Pansy would be a debutante next summer, she presumed. It was a tradition among Pureblood girls that, prior to their debuts, they were presented to family friends at a formal party, and she assumed that the birthday celebration held this purpose. The Weasley's were poor, but still related to enough pure blood families that Ginny had attended her share of parties, though never really as a guest. It wasn't fitting for a girl her age to mix among the grown-ups. Typically she was consigned, along with her younger cousins, to the kitchens or the nursery, and permitted to watch the gatherings only from afar. Still, she had seen enough to fill her daydreams for years to come as she waited for the day that it would be her turn.
Now that she was older Ginny understood, with the grim certainty of a girl who had always poor, that her turn would never come. Because of the month that her birthday fell, next summer would, technically, be her deb year too, though she didn't have any expectations of a season like Pansy would. Her parents would try, as best they could, to make her 18th birthday special. There would be a dinner at the house. Molly, and Ginny's aunts would slave for days to turn out a delicious meal, and the Burrow would look its best, she might even get new robes for the occasion, but it simply wouldn't be the same. Like so many other things in her life, she would have to learn to settle for second best.
Sighing, Ginny tucked the envelope into her bag. At least she still had Saturday night to look forward to.
Even though time seemed intent on moving as slowly as possible, the weekend finally arrived. Ginny had barely seen Pansy during the week. Saturday morning Neville Longbottom passed on a note telling her to meet the Slytherin girl outside the owlery.
Ginny smiled. Outside. That meant the Snake Pit. The Snake Pit meant dim, enclosed spaces. Dim enclosed spaces meant...
Snap out of it, Ginny! She ordered herself. She knew that she was probably reading too much into Draco's words outside the Great Hall on Monday. Maybe he wasn't interested in her that way at all. Still, he was damn cute, and she'd been cheated out of too many fantasies this week already. She'd let herself indulge for a while.
Ginny took extra care with her grooming that evening, using Hermione's Password to sneak into the Prefect's bathroom for a long, perfumed soak, and then spending a ridiculous amount of time on her hair. She twisted the copper locks into a casual knot on top of her head, then let a few loose tendrils fall around her shoulders. She was uncertain about what to wear. Robes seemed too formal(and all of her favorites were embarrassingly threadbare anyway), and pants weren't feminine enough to match her hair. She needed a skirt- but nothing too Muggle. Rooting through her drawers, she found a pleated uniform skirt that Had never been worn. Molly had been ecstatic to discover it, sitting in the second-hand bin with the tags from Madame Malkin's still affixed. After taking it home, however, they had discovered the reason for the bargain. It was slightly irregular. The hem was too short, and the waistband pinched. It wasn't practical for school, but for tonight, it might be manageable.
Pulling the skirt up over her hips, Ginny yanked the zip as high as it would go, and then wound a piece of yarn around the button, tying it through the button hole to hold it closed. It looked stable. If she wore a long top, no one would be the wiser.
The shortened hem was less of a problem. Even though Ginny's legs had lengthened since her mother bought the skirt, she wasn't adverse to the way that the flirty pleats showed them off. The only question was whether her knickers would show.
After a few careful manipulations in front of the mirror, she convinced herself that wasn't the case.
The finishing touch was a clingy jumper. It was green with a dragon on the front. It had been Harry's once, if she recalled correctly, but Draco need never know. The lines which had been bulky on an eleven year old boy clung to her burgeoning breasts deliciously.
“I don't think that your mother would like that very much, dear.” The mirror chastised gently.
Ginny's lips curled in pleasure. She could imagine no better confirmation that she had achieved the desired effect.
By the time Ginny had finished adjusting her clothes, she was five minutes late for meeting Pansy. She flew down the steps from Gryffindor tower, tore through the corridors and finally sprinted out the front door to head toward the owlery.
As she had suspected, Pansy was already waiting, buffing her nails and looking bored. Her expression changed when she looked at Ginny. “Well, well, this is certainly a change."
Ginny stopped as Pansy's mocking, if friendly, voice reached her ears. "Let me look you over."
Suddenly unsure of her decision about what to wear, Ginny was slow to comply. Finally, with coaxing, she completed a small turn.
“Interesting.” Pansy pronounced at last.
“Interesting?” Ginny's stomach twisted. “`Interesting good' or `interesting weird'?”
“Interesting `I'm-wondering-who-you're-trying-to-put-the-moves-on', Weasley.” Pansy said. “It's twenty degrees out here. Either you want to treat somebody to an eyeful of leg, consequences be damned, or you like having pneumonia.”
Ginny shrugged. “Hey, whatever's clean.”
Pansy rolled her eyes, but didn't question further. Ginny, however, found it hard to hide her confusion. Hadn't Draco told Pansy anything about the `date'? She trailed behind the other girl, chewing her lip nervously. What if he hadn't meant anything other than that they'd see each other in the Snake Pit? Maybe she shouldn't go up to him right away. Maybe she should try talking to someone else- Blaise or Nott- and see what happened then.
Her thoughts were cut off by the appearance of the object of them, looking edible in charcoal trousers, a black cashmere jumper, and a Slytherin- crested cloak. He was leaning against a wall looking like a lazy predator. "Sorry, Pansy, but I'm going to have to steal your pet Gryffie."
Pansy snickered. "Sorry, he's waiting to meet me in an hour down at the greenhouses. I'll let him know you care, though."
Draco screwed up his face in disgust, obviously still trying to cope with the idea of Pansy Parkinson and Neville Longbottom. “Nice, Pans.” He said tensely. His expression softened somewhat, however, as he turned to Ginny.
Ginny suddenly knew how a glass of pumpkin juice felt sliding down a thirsty man's throat. Draco was drinking in her appearance, from the crown of her head to the rounded toes of her Mary Jane shoes with his cloudy grey eyes. A little shiver of anticipation trembled through her nerves as her skin flushed scarlet.
“I actually wanted to borrow the Weaslette.” He said coolly.
“Oh?” Pansy arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow and then looked slowly between her housemate and her Gryffindor friend with dawning comprehension. “Well, well, when did this happen?" Pansy offered an approving leer, and Ginny's face turned even redder. "Never mind, you can tell me later.”
Draco slid his arm under Ginny's and steered her back toward the castle as Pansy called out behind them. “Have fun kids, don't do anything I wouldn't do!”
“What does that leave?” Ginny muttered, causing Draco to flinch.
“With Longbottom? Please- I just ate dinner.”
In spite of herself, Ginny giggled. “Sorry.”
She walked obediently beside him for a ways until they made a sharp left outside the great hall and wandered down a flight of stairs that she had never used before.
“Where are we going?” She asked nervously as the passage became narrow and dim.
“I thought we'd look for the other half of your skirt.” Draco said, in top Malfoy form, but a smile broke out a moment later. “Not too much further. There's something I thought that you might like to see.”
Ginny nodded, but curled her arm tighter around his own as they stopped walking down and turned into a corridor of almost pitch blackness.
Draco withdrew his wand from his robes. “Lumos,” he said crisply, and its tip sparkled to life, casting a soft glow on the surrounding stone walls. Bathed in the faint light, Ginny made out that they were in a storeroom of some sort.
Flour, sugar, and canned goods were stacked on shelves along one wall, but items of less certain origin and use were strewn about as well, some draped with white cloths, and others buried under layers of pale dust.
Draco led her to the far corner of the room where an ancient cupboard was wedged against the wall. In the faint light of Draco's wand, she could see that one of the cabinets was slightly opened, and seemed to be emitting a soft trilling sound. Draco handed her Ginny his wand, and then reached forward carefully, opening the door widely so that they could peer inside.
“It's okay.” He said in a whisper, and gestured that Ginny should take a look.
Curiously, she leaned forward and saw what appeared to be five tiny babies, none of them more than two inches long, asleep in a nest made from a grey cashmere sock.
“Fairies.” Draco said softly. “Devon Pinks, I think.”
Peering more closely, Ginny saw that, in fact, he was right. Each of the miniature infants had a pair of immature, gossamer wings folded on its back, and all but one were topped with a shock of hot pink hair.
“They hatched last week.” Draco said, his voice still no more than a whisper. “I heard `em crying and came to look. You don't see the babies much. Their mothers like to keep them hidden- I figured that you'd like to see them. You seem...in to that `Magical Creatures' stuff.”
Ginny arched an eyebrow. “You seem to know an awful lot about them for Someone who's not into that `Magical Creatures' stuff.”
“I don't mind it,” Draco shrugged, nonplussed. “- as long as we aren't studying Hippogryffs.” He qualified the statement. “Or skrewts.” He added a moment later.
“Or ....hell, everything that Hagrid shows us is bloody awful.” He seemed to take note of Ginny's souring expression and quickly changed the course of his comments. “Fairies are okay, though. We've got lots in mother's rose garden back home. She grows cabbage roses for them, special.”
Ginny frowned, sharply. Like Draco's compassion, the idea of a fairy garden was hard to reconcile with her idea of the Malfoy's. It was so shocking, in fact, that she blurted. “Your mum grows roses?”
Draco's lip curled. “What else is she going to put in a garden?”
Ginny flushed. “I dunno...” she said reluctantly, while thinking to herself: Belladonna, Nightshade, Venus fly traps...
The boy continued to demonstrate his eerie propensity to read Ginny's mind.
“Don't worry. She's got the nasty stuff too- just doesn't keep it in the formal gardens anymore- kept killing the lunch guests.”
Ginny didn't have a chance to ascertain whether Draco's words were spoken in seriousness or in jest. One of the fairy babies stirred, and fixed on her with lavender eyes no larger than a peppercorn. “It's so cute!” She cooed, starting to reach forward, but Draco stopped her.
A bolt of warmth shot upwards from her fingers and spread through her entire body as he clasped her hand in his own.
“Better not do that.” He said quietly. “If they get the scent of wizard on them, their mother will throw them out of the nest.” He gestured to the sock. “I had to charm the smell off that before I put it in.”
“You put the sock in there?” She said, not meaning for her voice to convey such clear disbelief.
“Yeah well- their teeth were chattering. Bloody annoying, actually.”
Ginny felt a pang as his hand dropped hers. “What were you doing down here, anyways?”
She was met with another shrug. “I just like to come down here sometimes. You know- to get away.”
“Get away from what?” She frowned.
“I don't know- Crabbe and Goyle, mostly, I guess. Parkinson. Zabini.” He shrugged. “I mean, it is strange here at school, isn't it? Having so many people around all the time?”
This time it was Ginny's turn to lift her shoulders equivocally. “Feels the same to me. There were always a ton of people at home too. Being the youngest, well- I didn't get much time to myself. It must be strange- being alone. I bet it's nice.”
“It is sometimes.” Draco nodded. After a moment's pause, he asked: “Why'd they do it anyways?”
“They?”
“Your parents. Why'd they have so many of you?”
Ginny's hackles began to rise, but the look on Draco's face was so Unexpectedly guileless and sincere that she answered. “I'm not sure. The just wanted to, I guess. Mum loves babies. Now that Ron and I are almost grown and out of the house, she hardly knows what to do with herself. She won't give Bill and Charlie a moment's peace.”
“Bill and Charlie?”
“My two oldest brothers.” Ginny explained. “She's always after them to get married and settle down- not that she is really prepared to turn over nagging them to a daughter-in-law, mind you!” Ginny couldn't help but chuckle. “It's just the only way she reckons to get a grandchild- grandchildren. We've all been ordered to produce a minimum of five...What about your parents?”
“Mine?
“Yeah. Why don't you have any brothers or sisters?”
Draco frowned, sharply. “I don't know. I guess my parent's figured that one was enough.”
“Doesn't your mum like babies?”
”She liked me.”
“Seriously- she's never started demanding grandchildren from you?”
”I'm seventeen, Weaslette!” Draco responded, and then muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “No bloody wonder” but Ginny let it slide.
“Speaking of Mums...” She nodded once more toward the fairies. “I wonder where theirs is?”
It was at almost that exact moment that the mother in question chose to appear, buzzing in an angry circle as soon as she saw the young wizards poking into her nest.
“Uh-oh.” Draco said quietly. With a gentle prod, he tried to draw Ginny away.
Unfortunately, she didn't take the hint. She was too transfixed by the baby that had come awake. He was still staring at her, blinking slowly and waving his chubby miniature arms in tight circles.
“Go, now!” Draco barked.
Something in the tone of his voice must have upset the infant, because it broke into a sudden, sharp wail that was surprisingly loud for a creature of its size.
The mother fairy, already agitated, dove to attack.
Draco pinched Ginny's arm and wrenched her forward toward the hall, but didn't have time to remove himself. A thin strand of blue light crackled from the fairies tiny wand and hit him just above his wrist.
“Owwww!” He yelped, finally dashing away. Ginny had stopped, and was staring. “Don't just stand there, Weaslette- run!”
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