(Written for a Flashficathon back in January, for Minervacat.)
The Taming of the Scrooge
Miss Ginny Weasley, aged 23, was a practical sort of girl and, unlike her dear mother, she was materialist rather than maternal, pragmatic rather than romantic. Her mother played bridge; Ginny played Quidditch, and cheated at it. Her mother had married for love - and begot children - with no consideration for basic economy. Ginny was in urgent, never-ending need of money and no longer harboured any silly notions about storybook romance or dashing princes. Loaded princes were more her style.
And Draco Malfoy was rich as few and as near royalty as the Wizarding World could manage.
He was also nicknamed Scrooge. For sadly obvious reasons.
Still, once the idea had been presented to Ginny, as a joke, she locked her sights on this reclusive, ill-tempered bachelor, determined to win his golden money, if not his cold heart.
It wasn't some childish crush breaking forth again, nor did she find the young Malfoy heir at all charming, or even alluring, the latter being a quality ascribed to his elusive persona by the gossipy scribes of the Prophet. If she had sought such qualities, such nostalgia, Harry Potter would have been the battleground of her campaign.
Draco Malfoy was, in many ways, the diametrical - some would say diabolical - opposite of Harry Potter. While the latter was daring, bold and generous, the former was sneering, cold and parsimonious.
Draco Malfoy was, in short, an arrogant, selfish, snobbish sod. These qualities, inherent to the Malfoy line, never failed to raise the red hackles of her brother Ron or, indeed, the rest of her large family. Still, those same qualities were ones that Miss Ginny Weasley had decided to value above all else in her quest for a suitable wealthy husband.
Should she ever have deigned to explain to her friends and family these odd preferences of hers, she would have blushed, lowered a dulled gaze, and would probably have made some vague reference to her being both a Weasley and a Gryffindor. Guilt, honour, morals - they were all afflictions that followed in the footsteps of those ancient and respected titles.
She wouldn't feel as guilty, nor quite as morally derelict, marrying a complete arse for the sake of money alone. Malfoy's morals were worse than hers, after all. And honour was honour, no matter what ragged morals coated it.
So, Ginny had decided, one bright white morning, to wed that mean and ill-tempered man. And, realising that marriage requires a certain prenegotiated agreement of both parties involved, she decided to pay a visit to Malfoy Manor that very same day.
However, while it can truthfully be said that she did pay a visit to the manor, the same can not be said about its owner. For him, a Weasley visit was much too meagre a payment for the inconvenience it brought; the house elf flung from a fourth floor tower window sputtered as much to her amidst spit-mingled snow.
But Ginny did not give up. What was family for, she reasoned, if not for manipulation?
Draco Malfoy had inherited his home, his magnificent manor, but most of the infamous Malfoy fortune had eluded his greedy grasp. His parents having died of causes natural only in times of war, there was no one to hand over the secrets of their well-guarded wealth. Some basic funding could be found in Gringott's more ordinary vaults but the vast bulk of the bounty of his ruthless ancestors was locked in custom-made, cursed caverns both in the deepest depths of the ancient wizarding bank and beneath his very own home.
In short, Draco Malfoy needed a curse-breaker. And Bill Weasley would have been wise not to boast of his skill at the Weasley Christmas dinner. For like the rest of his many brothers, he never could figure out how to resist the Imperius stare of his young sister.
And while Draco Malfoy's great dislike for Weasleys was known by most - not least hapless red-haired passers-by - his need of a qualified curse-breaker was greater.
Still, when he opened his door to curse-breaker Bill Weasley, he had not expected a bonus redhead being part of the deal.
'One Weasley's quite enough, thank you!' he sneered, glaring at Ginny.
'Don't worry,' Ginny beamed at him, 'I don't intend to stay one.' She swept past her puzzled brother and unwilling host to take an inquisitive stroll around the lavish hall.
'One WHAT?' cried Draco, spinning around and striding after her. 'One minute? One hour?'
'Weasley,' said Ginny, bending down to prod the carpet on the great staircase.
'Weasley? What's that? A slow measurement of time? Thick hours and dense minutes?' Draco took a deep breath. 'You know what?' he told the top of Ginny's head as she inspected the giant chandelier hanging high above. 'I don't care what ONE you intend to stay because you'll be staying NONE! GET OUT!'
Ginny turned to him, smiled, and said, 'The lamp is nice, but the carpet has to go.'
'Excuse me,' said Bill, tapping Draco on the shoulder and making him leap metaphorically into the air, 'could you perhaps show me to the dungeons before you start redecorating?'
Hours later, Bill rose from the dungeons to plead for a ceasefire, a moment of peace. He could not concentrate in that awful racket and, furthermore, the explosions rattled both instruments and nerves in a most dispiriting manner.
Three weeks later, Ginny wasn't 'one' anymore.
Then came the shopping. Or rather, the want of shopping.
Ginny became the joke of the finer circles: the poorly dressed Weasley who had tried to weasel her way into their midst and money by marrying the meanest of them all. Such a dim-witted girl. Amusing, but common and dumb. So like the lower classes. Not our sort, you know?
Still, they socialised. She was, after all, a Malfoy now.
Pansy Goyle and Millicent Crabbe took great delight in urging Ginny to go shopping with them, snickering behind her back at her sad excuses.
Then one day, she finally gave in. Pansy and Millicent couldn't resist; they pulled their husbands along, inviting Draco too, to make the coming humiliation as great as could be. To their great surprise, Draco came. Business in town. And his wife needed someone to keep an eye on her. Ginny scowled. Pansy and Millicent howled with silent laughter.
In the expensive boutique - not Ginny's choice - a split by gender came about, the husbands ambling off, unneeded and unheeded. No one had married for love, or taste in clothes.
An absolutely fabulous dress was found. Perfect for Ginny, Pansy declared. Magnificent said Millicent, if only Malfoy money wasn't so spare. The dress did cost a minor fortune and if one had such a mean husband, well, well, well.
The Weasley temper flared and Ginny boldly declared: 'My husband will buy this dress for me, if I ask him nicely!'
'Ginny, darling, surely you don't believe that! Really, it is so sad that you should have such an - inconsiderate husband.' They shook their heads. And Ginny shook hers. She'd be prepared to bet that, this time, her husband would see the beauty of the dress and buy it without the least pleading from her.
They couldn't refuse.
One thousand Galleons each.
Oh, really, it's not about money, surely.
Afraid?
'Are you sure your husbands will buy YOU dresses?'
'Of course!'
'Two thousand, if your husbands refuse.'
'No money, at all, for you, if they don't.' Smug grins.
Deal.
They sent an assistant for Mr Goyle. 'Really, Pansy, haven't you enough dresses? No, no, there will be no discussion.'
They sent for Mr Crabbe. 'Ghastly old rag. Wouldn't pay a Knut for it.'
They sent for Mr Malfoy.
Draco came. Draco saw. Draco concurred.
He concurred with Ginny in her assessment of the dress ('you look simply divine, dear') and he concurred with her intention to buy it.
As he handed her the Galleons, there were two gasps followed by two heavy thuds. Then came the screaming.
'But,' blustered Vincent Crabbe, under siege by his wife, 'it was Draco here who gave us this whole lecture about - about not spending too much on - on you.' The last bit was spoken very quietly. It didn't help.
'Really,' drawled Draco, 'there is a time and a place for everything. Do you expect your wives - who spend so much time painting and preening to look good for you - to walk around in rags? I may be mean, but a woman is a sound investment.' He winked at Ginny. 'And a damn pretty one too!'
Pansy disappeared backwards into a rack of dresses. Millicent sat down and broke a chair.
When Mr and Mrs Malfoy walked out into Diagon Alley, the boutique they left behind had been rattled by two very angry Disapparations and a shopping spree of unprecedented exuberance.
Ginny swung full bags on both arms, taking care to bump into her companion at irregular intervals. She couldn't stop laughing. And people stared.
'You did very well,' Draco murmured, leaning towards her, 'for a Weasley.' He placed his open palm before her merrily bobbing bosom. 'Now hand me my half of the loot, there's a dear.'