This story is based on the 1954 film Sabrina. All dialog and story ideas are taken directly from the film. Obviously, characters and certain themes have been altered to fit the Harry Potter universe, but otherwise the idea of the story has been kept as close to the original as possible.
If you have not seen the film Sabrina I highly recommend it. Hopefully you'll be dying to see it after reading this story.
Ginevra Weasley
Draco Malfoy
And
Harry Potter
in
Ginevra
Chapter One:
Once upon a time, on the North Shores of the Thames, in the heart of London, there worked a small girl in a large building. The building was very large indeed and had many employees. There were administrators to take care of the offices and solicitors on retainer. There was a caretaker to light the lamps at night and to put them out again in the morning. There were specialists to take care of the mysteries, the prophecies, the halls of both mirrors, and time. And a man of no particular title took care of the fish that lived in the Fountain of Magical Brethren.
Also in this building worked a man named Weasley, who had been recruited from Hogwarts years ago, together with his knowledge of Muggle artifacts. Weasley was a fine worker, of considerable awkwardness, like the artifacts in his care. And he had a daughter by the name of Ginevra. Or Ginny, for short.
It was the eve of the anniversary of the end of the war and, as had been traditional for the past four years, the Malfoy's were giving a party to celebrate the success of Harry Potter at their estate. It never rained on the night of the Malfoy party. The Malfoy's wouldn't have stood for it.
There were three Malfoy's in all—father, mother and a son. Narcissia and Lucius Malfoy were married in 1975. Among their many wedding presents was a town house in London and their estate in Wiltshire for weekends. The town house has since been converted into a Twilfit and Tattings.
Draco Malfoy, their only son, graduated from Hogwarts, where his classmates voted him the man most likely to leave his alma mater fifty million galleons.
Harry Potter, after graduating, went through several of the best jobs on the continent for short periods of time, and through several marriages for even shorter periods of time. He is now a successful Auror and turns all of his overdue expense reports into the Director of Finance: Draco Malfoy.
Life was pleasant at the Ministry, for now that the war was over, this was as close to heaven as one could get in government.
And tonight they celebrated.
XXX
Ginny Weasley was nibbling on a slice of cheese as she walked about the party. There was no one here who much cared to speak with her, after all she was only an administrative assistant, because her dad had managed to find her a job, and had barely warranted an invitation to the event at all. She admired the fine dresses the witches around her were wearing and watched as they twirled in them about the dance floor.
The Minister had just given a speech and was standing on a podium with Harry Potter and the Malfoy family. He had expressed his utmost gratitude, on behalf of wizards everywhere, to Harry, and his thanks to the Malfoy family for throwing the annual gathering. They were now clustered together and having their picture taken. It would be on the front page of the Daily Prophet in the morning.
Ginny lingered about the sidelines of the garden, trailing her fingers through the bushes beside her as she walked.
The photograph finished, the small group on the podium dispersed; Harry jumping off to immediately grab hold of a blond witch by her middle and whisk her to the dance floor.
Ginny was far away from the veranda now, where the witches and wizards danced, still toeing the boarder of the garden below. To get a better view she found a little tree and pulled herself up, hiding her body among the leaves.
"Come on down from there, Ginny! Come on." Arthur had found her and was standing beneath the tree Ginny was currently perched in watching the lights of the party going on above her. "You'd better finish your packing."
Ginny paid him no heed. She was busy looking at the veranda where Harry was dancing closely with the pretty blond. "Who's that girl, Dad, dancing with Harry?"
As Ginny watched Harry spun the girl around and she started giggling, punching Harry playfully on his arm.
"Her name is Turpin, Lisa Turpin," said Arthur, looking at the couple. "Auror Turpin's daughter."
Ginny scowled at her. "I hate girls that giggle all the time," she said.
"You hate every girl Harry looks at." Arthur sighed and reached a hand up to help Ginny out of her tree. "You can't go on like this about Harry. You've got to get over it."
"Yes, Dad," said Ginny.
Arthur hadn't released her hand and was looking down at her with warm affection. "It's good you're going away. I only hope it's far enough."
She couldn't quite manage to muster up a smile. "Yes, Dad," she said, instead staring at her toes.
"Come along, Ginny," he said, already turning to head to the apparation point.
"In a minute, Dad," she told him, wanting to stay just a little longer to watch the party. "You go ahead. I'll be there soon."
He turned and left Ginny leaning against her tree, worrying a torn leaf between her fingers.
The music filled the area around her, it was low and slow and punctuated by the giggling sound of the girl Harry had pinned in a corner of the veranda. They'd left the dancers behind now, in search of some privacy perhaps, and Ginny watched as Harry whispered at the blond witch's neck and laughed when she tried to escape his hold.
The witch ran away from Harry, giggling and throwing her blond curls over her shoulder as she went. Harry watched her go with a smile and then retreated to the bar to retrieve a bottle of pressed herself closer to her tree and watched as Harry bounced down the stairs of the veranda to the garden, and started walking towards her. He'd managed to just make it past her hiding spot when she pushed herself away from the tree to catch his attention.
"Oh, it's you, Ginny," said Harry, turning to her with a laugh.
"Hello, Harry," she said.
He was still smiling. "I thought I heard somebody."
Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but he had already turned away, whistling as he carried his bottle of champagne deeper into the garden. Her eyes followed him as he went, and a weight settled somewhere deep within her heart.
"No," she said aloud, "It's nobody."
She should have turned away then.
Instead she followed Harry into the garden, staying a discreet distance away and silencing her footsteps. It wouldn't have mattered. Harry was oblivious of everything around him as he headed towards the gazebo.
"Lisa," he called as he entered the building. "Lisa? What is this seek and hide?"
The blond witch, Lisa, was standing behind an ornate bench, giggling into her palm. "No," she teased. "You have to stay there. You're meant to seek me."
Her voice was high pitched and nasally and Ginny winced at it from her hiding spot in the bushes outside the gazebo.
"That'll be a little difficult, Lisa," Harry told her, holding out the bottle of champagne.
"You know the rules of the game," giggled Lisa.
"Okay," said Harry. "I'll count." As he counted he pulled two champagne flutes from the pocket of his robes, and set them on the floor beside the champagne. He reached for the bottle next, still slowly counting, and pushed at the cork. He'd reached a count of six by the time the cork blew, flying out the gazebo window and nearly hitting Ginny on the cheek.
"Eight," said Harry as he topped off the two glasses and started walking to Lisa. "Nine," he said as he bent over the bench and gave her a smile. "Ten," he said as he handed her a flute of champagne. "Found you."
Ginny couldn't watch anymore.
She turned away from the gazebo with tears in her eyes and started the long, heartbreaking walk to the apparation point.
By the time she'd made it back to the Burrow she'd stifled her tears, but could do nothing for the heavy ache that seemed to permeate her every nerve.
The lights were all off at the Burrow, save the one in the front hall where Arthur was still awake and waiting for her.
"Ginny!" Arthur called, as she tried to sneak passed him and up the stairs.
"Yes, Dad?" she asked, turning to him, but unable to meet his eyes.
"Don't leave your passport tomorrow," he said.
"No, Dad," she said.
He sighed, loudly and heavily. "It's not every girl that's lucky enough to go to Paris."
Ginny nodded.
"And it's the best cooking school in the world."
Again, she nodded.
"If your mother were alive, she'd be happy you were going there," this time Ginny looked up into her Dad's eyes, and pressed her lips together. "She was the best cook in Britain," he told her, smiling proudly. "I'm not saying you have to be a cook, as she was," Arthur went on. "Or that I want you to marry a Ministry man."
Ginny looked away, in favor of the view of her shoes again, but Arthur continued.
"But you know how I feel," he said. "Your mother and I had a good life together. We were respected by everyone. That's as much as anyone can want in this world." He paused for a minute, giving her a sad sort of a look. "Don't reach for the moon, child."
She had to look at him then, giving him one of her own sad, little smiles. "No, Dad," she agreed.
"Besides," he continued. "It never hurt a young girl to learn how to cook, did it?" She had nothing to say to that so she remained silent. "I'll wake you at seven. The train goes at noon. Goodnight."
Ginny forced the corners of her lips up in response to his warm tone and nodded to him. "Goodnight," she said.
Then she turned and fled upstairs to the safety of her room.
On her bed, her trunk was nearly packed, her clothes strewn about the covers ready to be folded away. She sat, running the cotton of a light summer dress through her fingers. She couldn't rid herself of the image of Harry, in the gazebo, his arms around the blond witch, his lips pressed against her hair, her skin, her neck.
Making up her mind, she tossed aside her dress and moved to her desk where she pulled out a piece of paper.
'Dear Dad,' she wrote. 'I don't want to go to Paris. I want to die. Please forgive me for what I am about to do. Goodbye, Ginny.'
She folded the paper in half and held it between her fingers before reconsidering. Then she unfolded it, grabbed her quill and added a postscript that read, 'Don't have Harry at the funeral. He probably wouldn't even cry.'
Finished, she stood up, folded the paper once more, left her room and slid the letter under her dad's bedroom door.
The Ministry was quite this time of night, particularly when anyone who is anyone was already at the Malfoy party. Ginny stood in the Atrium and stared at the Fountain of Magical Brethren and considered her next move. Then, with slow determination she entered the elevators and hit the button for level two.
She found what she was looking for in the room at the end of the hall, beside her dad's office, where several old Muggle were stored for experimentation in a magically expanded room. Ginny made sure that door was shut firmly behind her before navigated through the darkness to turn the ignition on each car.
It was not a small room, but it was crowded with cars, so when she finished starting up the engines and watched as the smoke billowed from the exhaust pipes, she estimated that it wouldn't take long for the space to fill with the Muggle chemicals. To hurry the process along, she crawled to the back of the room and laid her head against the hard floor, forcing herself to breathe in the fumes directly from the exhaust of a convertible.
She began coughing immediately as thick smoke poured into her lungs and she stood up for a breath of the blissfully fresh air above the cars. Sighing, she leaned her body against the wall, inhaling slowly, feeling more and more sleepy by the minute. Ginny closed her eyes.
There was a bang from the hallway and a call of, "What's going on?" The door slammed open and a male voice yelled out, "Weasley?"
She threw herself to the floor again and hid behind the car even as she heard the intruder move towards the cars. He was turning the engines off.
"Anybody here?" he shouted as he moved.
Ginny rolled along the floor, scooting down the line of cars and away from the voice, coughing all the while. She snuck a glimpse over the door of the convertible to see Draco Malfoy standing in his fine dress robes squinting at her through the smoke.
"Who's that?" he asked.
She dropped to the floor and slunk beneath the convertible.
His footsteps sounded out through the darkness as he neared her hiding place. The ignition in the convertible cut out, then he squatted down beside the car.
"Ginny, come on out of there," he said.
Ginny coughed again and stuck her head out from beneath the car.
"Come on," he repeated.
"Hello," she said, feeling rather ridiculous.
"What are you doing here?" Draco asked, still squatting beside the car.
"Just checking the spark plugs," she told him. She coughed again.
His face scrunched up. "The what?"
She scooted out a little further, leaning on her arms. "Dad was worried, because a spark plug was missing. I wanted to find out which one it was."
Draco looked around the room then back at her. "So you started the motors and closed the door?
Ginny looked down at her greasy hands, ashamed. "I didn't want to disturb anyone," she said.
"You might never have done so again," he said as he stood.
She crawled out from under the car, and dusted dirt from her skirt.
"Does your father know?" he asked her.
"No!" She shouted at him, taking a step forward. "I wanted to surprise him." She dissolved into a fit of coughs, struggling for a breath as her lungs forced the smoke out.
"We'd better get out," he said, grabbing her arm and moving her towards the door again.
"There now," he said when they were in the hall. "Breathe deep." His hand moved to her stomach, pressing against her diaphragm as she inhaled.
She followed his instructions, sucking in the fresh air. Her whole body was tingling and she felt light headed.
"That's right. Now, deep breath," he said, still pressing on her chest.
Ginny obeyed, breathing in deep.
The next thing she knew her whole body was being jostled and she was nose to nose with black material that kept rubbing her cheek.
"What happened?" she said, suddenly aware of the arm that was wrapped around the back of her legs keeping her steady on Draco's shoulder.
"You passed out," he said, voice rumbling against her as he walked.
"I'm alright," she insisted. "You don't have to carry me."
"Of all the idiotic things…" he said.
They were in the Atrium. He set her back on her feet beside the Fountain.
"Haven't you heard of Muggle fumes? It kills people," scolded Draco.
Ginny looked up at him, not wanting to admit the truth. "It does?" she asked, innocently.
The look he gave her was un-amused. "What would have happened if I hadn't come along?" he asked.
She stared at her scuffed shoes. "I'd have died," she told him honestly.
"And fast," he snapped. "Eight cars! One would have done it." He walked away from her for a moment, and then turned around. "Good thing Mr. Turpin asked me to pick up his attaché case from the Auror offices."
Ginny's head snapped back up, sure enough Draco also had a bag slung over one shoulder. He must have heard the cars from down the hall and come to see who was still at the Ministry. "Mr. Turpin? Lisa's father?" she pursed her lips in annoyance. "Why didn't Lisa get it?"
Draco was scowling at that too, clearly volunteering for the job was not his top choice. "We can't find Lisa."
"She," Ginny said before she could stop herself. She pressed her lips together firmly.
"She what?" asked Draco.
Ginny coughed once more and shook her head. "Nothing."
Draco gave her a thoughtful look. "The next time you mess with any Muggle artifacts, make sure your father's around to tell you what's safe. Understand?"
She nodded.
"You'd think a Muggle specialist's daughter should know better," he said as he turned away.
"Yes, sir," said Ginny to his departing back. She sighed as she watched him move for the nearest floo and sat down on the edge of the fountain. There were so many feelings stored up in her body right then, but more than embarrassment, more than hurt, or heartache she felt one thing; tired.