Conquering the Duck
On a stormy Friday evening, Ginny trudged into the penthouse of 43 Huntington Avenue. Large dollops of raindrops pattered against the window pane as she shrugged off her trenchcoat and set off in search of Draco Malfoy, her boyfriend of nine months.
She was especially hasty to reach Draco tonight because the night before, the two of them had been talking in between sips of sweet blush wine and he'd admitted that someday he'd like to settle down and have kids. Ginny'd then asked hopefully exactly when he felt like doing just that, and he replied with a teasing smile and two words, "You'll see."
iTrust him to be so cryptic and unreadable/i, thought Ginny. Deep down, she hoped and hoped with all her wedding-crazed heart that tonight would be That Night. When he'd declare his unconditional love and pop the magical question after brandishing a gleaming gem-encrusted ring.
Her first thought was to search the study, because even though she knew Draco wouldn't read through any book unless it was work-related or had the title 'Playwizard' emblazoned on it, and was filled with scantily clad women strutting their anorexic skeletal frames within the moving pictures, he still tried to appear knowledgeable and thus always had a heavy tome on his lap after work (although Ginny figured he was really counting the minutes until she reached home, just so that she could fulfil his latest erotic fantasy).
The musty book-filled room, however, contained no one.
Next on her list was the bedroom. Perhaps he had gotten so bored of straining his miniscule brain to appreciate the ancient art of reading that he'd retreated back the snuggly sleeping haven. Ginny wondered if his clothes were still on, for there were several occasions when she'd found him naked in bed after she had gotten home from work, fast asleep. He'd claimed that he originally wanted to give her a very pleasant surprise after her shower, but then, after waiting for over an hour, he'd grown too tired to wait and hence, caved into his want to sleep.
That particular defence induced no guilt from Ginny whatsoever. As if she hadn't found the Playwizard monthly subscription tucked neatly under his pillow, and hadn't noticed his slightly sticky hands that were resting very near his uh, area.
But the bedroom was clear as well. The sheets were pressed and folded without a single crease and the pillows lay fluffed and unmoving.
The kitchen. Yes, that was where he'd be.
Over the duration of their relationship, she had gotten to know the real Draco very well (it was quite easy really, because there wasn't much to learn). There were two things that pleased him the most – food, and sex.
And being Draco, as well as a Malfoy, he'd settle for nothing less than the best. Ginny sometimes wondered if he dated her for having extraordinary talents in both departments, and not, as her idealistic mind fantasized, for herself. But whenever she questioned him about his intentions for picking her as his significant other, he'd answer, "Because I love everything about you" and everything was fine and dandy again. Which, if she thought about carefully, didn't exactly answer her question. And that further emphasized her point that he just wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.
Just as she stepped into the kitchen, though, a loud squawk shocked her out of her thoughts and caused her head to hit the ceiling. Rubbing her throbbing head at the sore spot, she took a quick glance into the kitchen to make sure it was indeed empty before setting off in the general direction of the noise.
Somehow, a squawk and the Draco she knew didn't seem to link or click in any manner, even after considering his knack for cultivating strange quirks, like rubbing his neck with almond butter every pther night, a habit he had reasoned was done to provide her with a more supple snogging experience. Hm, perhaps the matching almond oil he used to massage his scalp had somehow managed to cloud his warped logic even further.
Was the distracting noise the sound he made when he tried to play with himself? She had never been present at any one of ithose/i but logically, the sounds emitted would coincide, even slightly, with the sounds he made when ithey/i did it together, wouldn't it? And as far as she could recall, there hadn't been any squawking or other noises that were remotely bird-related during their moments of ecstasy.
The noise came from the bedroom, that much she could tell. Hadn't she already been there? She racked her brains for another explanation. Oh, yes. The bathroom.
As she neared the room, she wondered who in Merlin's name would choose to satiate his needs in the presence of detergent and the smell of chemicals? Did that, God forbid, turn him on? Or maybe he had a particular fetish with linoleum tiles? The possibilities were endless, and yet the sight that met her could not be further from the situations which had run through her rather delirious head.
Draco was there, alright. But he wasn't alone. She supposed she should have been happy the other being wasn't a prostitute (it was, in fact, a lot uglier than how the average skank looked). Staring straight back at her was a pair of beady eyes, its glaringly orange beak blaring out the less-than-welcoming squawks.
There was only one way she could describe the bird, if she could even call it one - hideous. Honestly, having seen Draco's taste in various things - his choice of spreadsheets, food, and herself, just to name a few (which she must insist, were the crème of the crop in their respective categories), she'd thought he had better taste than that.
It was covered in white feathers and had the same garishly coloured feet. The only thing that stopped Ginny from assuming it was a duck was that its feet weren't webbed, and that it didn't have any wings.
Instead of where the wings might be, it had a ring of blubber surrounding its torso, which reminded Ginny of a summer when Ron had gotten stuck within his baby float (it didn't help that there were pastel blue flowers printed on it and he was teased by Fred and George for the length of a week, precisely how long it had taken for Molly Weasley to undo the damage; after which, the twins had promptly been forced into wearing matching pink-hearted floats for their punishment, a feat that they pretended partake in to whenever in Molly's presence).
"Say hi to Wuzzy, Gin. He's an amphiboduck!" gushed Draco as he noticed her.
Ginny decided the gushing was quite unbecoming on Draco, and scrunched up her face in disgust, "What iis/i it?"
"iHe/i, not iit/i," said Draco drying off Wuzzy as it shook off water droplets which landed on just about everywhere, including Ginny's nose.
Irked by the creature's mere presence, she sat on the edge of the bathtub gingerly. Once Draco finished wiping down Wuzzy, she pulled him into a deep kiss. It would've lasted longer had the bloody duck not set itself the task of poking its annoying beak into Ginny's back. For such a blunt-looking beak, its jabs hurt an awful lot.
It suddenly occurred to her that That Night might be postponed to a later date, thanks to a certain ithing/i butting in. Forget the proclamation of unequivocal love, forget the mind-blowing sex with Draco afterward, it was going to be a miserable night.
The couple ate a late dinner, and Draco seized the chance to gloat about his new pet (Ginny glumly prodded her steak, occasionally glancing at the duck to shoot it a menacing stare. She fought the urge to drift off into reminiscing times where conversation did not constantly revolve around the supposedly massively sought after pet.
"Wuzzy was the first to be supplied to the emporium, and I got him," boasted Draco, his face shining with classic Malfoy pride and smugness.
"There was a crowd of kids on my way in, and they parted like the Red Sea when I exited once they saw me carrying Wuzzy, each of the small buggers ogling enviously at the two of us."
Ginny inwardly rolled her eyes.
"I swear, I'm like a Zeus to kids. They all want Wuzzy because of his astonishing ability to run, hop and wade. He's fab! Sort of beats Pothead with his pathetic new endorsement of Pygmy Puffs."
So the duck could wade, huh? That explained the blubber ring. Well, she reasoned, they ihad/i to find some way to promote an advantage to being fat.
But somehow, it didn't appear as cute to her as it did to Draco. Blame her female intuition, or quite plainly her icommon sense/i, but the duck felt like more than an intrusive inclusion in their lives. She'd come to terms that it was downright evil, a conclusion she surprisingly felt little remorse arriving at.
Now she only had to prove it before everything would be alright again and she'd get her greatly desired engagement ring.
The next morning, Ginny woke up to the same squawk that marked the beginning of an extremely nightmare-ish debacle. Stretching lazily before hopping out of bed, she desperately clung onto the semblance of hope that the ruddy duck was all a dream, and that when she reached the kitchen, she'd find that Draco was … ugh, too late.
She blinked forcefully several times, intent on waking up from the nightmare, with no such luck. Sitting across Draco in iher/i seat, was Wuzzy, being fed a few brown-spotted golden brown flat hotcakes.
She recognized the smell immediately, the warm and toasty scent of flapjacks wafting throughout the kitchen triggering numerous pleasant memories. It was her favourite breakfast (and the only breakfast Draco knew how to prepare iever/i) - chocolate chip pancakes drizzled with maple syrup and a generous glob of clotted cream.
It was normally served to her in bed, on the mornings after a long night of lovemaking. Those sessions exhausted her physically and mentally, and so she found it necessary to sleep in till at least past ten on those mornings.
Draco, however, reacted strangely contrary to her. By some means, sex caused him to be widely awake and prone to engaging in one-sided conversations with Ginny who, by then, had probably nodded off to sleep after the immense satiation.
On those morning-afters, especially those after nights loaded with multiple orgasms, Draco rose early and cheerily, and proceeded on to cooking breakfast for the both of them while snacking on Ben&Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice-cream, a imanly/i flavour with the gritty bits and nuts infused into it, or so he said. Taking this with a pinch of salt, she closed an eye every time the scoops of frozen heaven resembled the very pink and purple Berry Bubblegum a little too much.
Her preferred way of waking up was closely associated with the scrumptious dish. Draco would rouse her gently from her slumber and alternate between feeding mouthfuls of pancake to her and to himself, all the while edging his other hand up and down her thigh. Often enough, that leaded to another go at iit/i, what with chocolate being an aphrodisiac and all.
The problem with that now was, Draco's hands were occupied with other tasks at the moment, more specifically, with the bloody duck. The sudden realization that she was rather jealous of the hideous thing startled Ginny, who thought it utterly bizarre, seeing as she always thought Draco as the kid in the relationship. As far she would admit, she was seen as the sensible and mature one.
"Morning, Gin," Draco greeted jovially from the table.
"Morning," Ginny replied stiffly.
Nodding at the pancakes, Draco explained, "I cooked those for you at first, but then Wuzzy started sniffing and licking them, so I fed him some, and it turns out that he loves them."
Ginny had seen that glowing look on Draco before, but it had always been related somehow to her. Be it her ministrations, or her delicious cooking. And now, seeing the look been cast by someone else, or rather, something else, just didn't cut it. It made her feel the littlest bit pissed.
iPlay the role of the sweet and demure fiancé and it'll all go away soon./i Ginny breathed in deeply whilst repeating the sentence to herself over and over again inside her head.
She reached for the handle of a small cabinet tucked in the corner, where the pancake mix was, so that she could make herself some.
"There's no more," said Draco, as if reading her mind, "Wuzzy's took up the last portion of the mix."
Fuming silently, Ginny made herself a cup of double expresso, deliberately clanking the coffee bean tin and steel mug noisily in the process.
So the pudgy thing wanted to make trouble, huh? Well, two could play the game.
Showing Draco that Wuzzy was indeed evil proved to be a strenuous and difficult task. For one, the duck always managed to slip out of Ginny's hands before she could cast a jinx-tracing charm or anti-foul spell on it.
For another, Draco wouldn't listen to her ramblings because he found the stupid animal far too adorable and innocent to let it be accused of brainwashing his mind or, say, sent as an evil spawn of Voldemort (she'd thought those were rather good reasons, but Draco didn't seem to share her decidedly smart views).
So in the afternoon, Ginny decided to get some serious help. From someone who could listen to her problems and analyze them accordingly, before providing a clear solution set for success. Someone with enough logic and knowledge to give a fair judgment on the matter. Someone like, Hermione.
Unfortunately, Hermione's reaction to Ginny's dilemma was far from what she'd expected it to be. The first thing emitted from her mouth after hearing about Wuzzy was, "Ooh, I read an article on amphiboducks the other day. Turns out that they're somewhat like Nifflers, always looking for silver and gold. And when they do find the treasure, they'll hold onto it for a lifetime."
Ginny remembered thinking to herself, "Huh, the annoying thing's a gold-digger" and telling herself that she childishly wouldn't inform Draco about this little fact to get back at him for bringing that great dink home.
She let Hermione go on for while longer just to humour her, before promptly deciding that the idea to get Hermione's advice was a total washout. Her best friend had laughed the whole thing with the duck off with strict orders to go home and calmly tell Draco how she felt about Wuzzy.
When Ginny moaned about how she was sure he wouldn't listen, because she'd already tried telling him that the birdlike beast had planted a seed of diabolism in his head, Hermione shot her a look that seemed to ask if she was actually serious, and Ginny glumly accepted the fact that Hermione simply wasn't going to be siding with her, the sane side.
Dinner was another sore affair. Draco had set up a meeting with a business client, so halfway through his pesto chicken fillet, he left the flat leaving strict orders for Ginny to feed Wuzzy.
After much consideration and deliberation the previous night, Ginny had figured that Draco's vast interest in the duck would wane in time to come, because he was honestly the type of person who looked for short burst of excitement, with no commitment and all that.
The only exceptions in his life were Ginny and Ginny's most coveted double-fudge chocolate chip and pecan brownies. Those were the only constants in his life, and Ginny dramatically hoped that that wasn't about to change.
And so, all she had to do was to tolerate the stupid duck and wait for Draco to lose interest in it. In the meantime, she'd be the epitome of a perfect girlfriend – kind, loving and caring. Hence, she opted to try and actually interact with Wuzzy, a feat she'd never choose to take on previously.
Ginny struggled to hand feed Wuzzy for several minutes, before choosing to force the food down its throat by magical means. The monstrosity just would not let her touch or grab it in any way. She then felt for her wand in the left pocket of her robes, but discovered that it wasn't there.
i'It had to be at Hermione's, then,'/i she thought, as she scooped out a handful of Floo powder, Wuzzy's dinner completely forgotten.
Looking through the many fireplaces, she found Hermione's. But just as she was about to step in, she noticed her bosom friend chatting with Draco, who had mentioned he would attending a meeting. Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, she scanned the scene meticulously. Of course there wouldn't be anything between them.
Even if Draco wanted to stray (which he wouldn't, she was utmostly sure he was wrapped tightly around her little finger - well, until the evil duck came along), he'd have gone to find a gangly-legged model or a big-breasted acquaintance. With no offence to Hermione, she didn't meet any of the criterions.
Ginny edged closer into the fireplace, and fished out an Extendable Ear nicked from Fred and George. These little contraptions always came in useful for this sort of thing. Within seconds, she could even sense Draco's seemingly anxious vibes.
"So the ring's at home, but I don't know how to go about asking," Draco was saying.
"Draco, like I told you last week, there are so many ways to do it. Take her on a vacation on St Bartes and ask her on the beach, have champagne and strawberries in bed and pop the question then, surely your Tatler subscription offers a lavish idea or two," rattled Hermione.
Ginny tugged on the Extendable Ear and it rolled up into the skin-colored ball of string, elated with excitement, her unclaimed wand forgotten.
So Draco already had the ring, and it was being kept at home. He didn't know how to ask, and so she would make him think of new and inventive ways of doing it. She speculated on whether the duck was halting his plans.
By the time she had showered and was ready for bed, a new plan had formed. It was established that Wuzzy would hold less and less magnetic pull to Draco in the long run, so if she isped things up/i a bit, it wouldn't really be wrong, would it? She'd be like, an Ienzyme/i, she thought brightly. Speeding up a reaction to save time and energy, and to reach the final goal quicker. All in all, if she thought about it, she was actually committing a pretty good deed.
So, the next morning she rose bright and early to cook breakfast for Draco. It was Sunday, and she felt like nothing could possibly go wrong today. The Egg's Benedict was perfect, she charmed Wuzzy's breakfast to be consumed all in one big gulp without a hassle, and after breakfast she and Draco engaged in a rather languid session of heavy snogging and shagging.
Things started to go down from there, though. After Draco went out to get Wuzzy a proper bed and other necessities, Ginny was left to devise a clever plan to go about bewitching Wuzzy into appearing irksome and irritating to Draco.
She tried Stunning the ruddy duck, but the pudgy animal was quite agile and was able to dodge all her spells. Chasing after it with a chopper around the flat didn't work either. By the end of the day, Ginny was left tired and hungry, and no closer to
her goal than she had been two days ago.
The first thing Ginny did on Monday morning was to head over to Harry's and Hermione's. Her Plan C was going to go off without a hitch and she needed Harry's Invisibility Cloak for it.
Her excuse for borrowing it was that she and Draco had agreed to inculcate something new in their sex lives (Harry turned red at that moment and cleared his throat loudly before excusing himself exiting the room), and she thought playing hide-and-seek would be fun to try.
When she came home that night, she received a note from Draco that he'd be out with Blaise for the night, with a promise that he'd make it up to her the moment he reached home.
Clasping her hands in delight, she was glad for the extra time to put her plan into action. She spread the Invisibility Cloak in the middle of the hallway, and placed three freshly cooked chocolate chip pancakes on it. Then, she levitated herself and her broom to sit directly above the cloak and pancakes.
Hopefully, the smell of the food would emanate through the entire flat, to wherever Wuzzy was at the moment. It'd attract him to this spot and when he walked into the Invisibility Cloak, she'd be there to wrap the cloak tightly over his head so he couldn't escape.
It was executed flawlessly. Clutching the bundle of cloth and feathers with glee, she revelled in the fact that she could finally move on to the bewitching part of her plan. Casting an Immobilizing Charm on Wuzzy, she proceeded onto taking him out of the cloak.
There was something hard in his stomach area. Patting him reluctantly, curiosity got the better of her and she felt into the woolly sweater Draco had adorned Wuzzy with. It was a velvet box. Not quite believing what she saw clasped in her hand, she gasped as she shrugged the tiny box out of the wool.
Despite it smelling like dead feet, the velvet box was priceless all the same. She knew what lay inside before she opened, but that didn't stop her from gaping at the magnificance of the ring.
It was white gold, with intricately woven loops showcasing tiny beads of emeralds. The centrepiece was a diamond as big as a small stone, and the sight of it was breathtaking.
The Immobilized duck forgotten, she stared at the ring for moments after before the sound of a door slamming shut and a familiar interrupted her thoughts.
"Well, you found it, Gin," said Draco, with a tinge of disappointment.
"It's so pretty, Draco," breathed Ginny, her disbelieving gaze still fixed onto the ring.
"Damn it, forget St Barte's. Even a clichéd ring in the champagne would be better than this," cursed Draco, looking put out at the thought of his foiled proposal.
Finally looking up, Ginny glared at him pointedly.
"Well, iyou/i certainly took your time to propose."
He had the decency to flush before embracing her from behind in acquiescence, and she softened her gaze, "I don't care, Draco. I'm in your arms, clutching the most beautiful ring in the world. That's enough."
He twirled her around so that she could face him, their faces inches apart. His eyes were dark, smouldering with something that wasn't quite lust, but somewhat warmer than lust. iLove/i, she mused, as he levelled his gaze with hers and spoke the magic words, "Marry me, Gin."
iTrust him to pop the question as more of a command than a question/i she remembered thinking to herself before replying.
"Gladly," she replied, feeling her throat was about to choke up.
But just as she leaned in to kiss him, a squawk distracted her again. Wuzzy, now released from the worn out Immobilizing Charm, was poking both Draco and Ginny in their legs and their ankles. He was trying to reach up for something, and a voice was triggered in the back of her mind.
i"Amphiboducks are like Nifflers, they're always looking for silver and gold. And when they do find the treasure, they'll hold onto it for a lifetime,"/i she recited from her memory.
"He's not going to revert back to his old ways anytime soon, Draco," she said.
Amidst all the lovey-dovey romantic whatnot that had rendered her a more than satisfied engaged woman, she still felt rather cross that Draco favoured the bloody duck, and wanted to make that little bugger look as unappealing as possible in front of her fiance. It was, after all, her duty as his future wife to protect him from all sicknesses and diseases. And face it, keeping the ruddy duck was not sanitary and would drive them insane (although possibly her more so than him, but Ginny felt that needn't be established). Poor hygiene and absolute insanity were both very valid causes of illnesses in their own ways, she reasoned. It was for the best, really.
"Unless I give him the ring, which I won't, because it's far too pretty to be stuck up some repugnant duck's arse," she added, inwardly patting herself on the back for successfully pointing out why the duck had to leave whilst managing to insult it at the same time.
Draco frowned, clearly not pleased with Wuzzy's current behaviour.
"Who knows what havoc that thing would wreak, and cleaning up after it or having to jinx it into silence and stillness would ultimately eat into the time we could spend doing… iother stuff/i" she said, raising her eyebrow at him suggestively.
Draco's brow furrowed even more, clearly thinking it over. Ginny could literally see the wheels turning inside his head. Oh, she knew how to push his buttons so well.
"We icould/i give him away," said Ginny a little too brightly, "To James, Harry and Hermione's son. He'd love it!"
She silently apologised to James in advance for burdening him with the hideous little pet, if it could even be called that, she thought in disgust.
"Come on, Draco" she said, surreptitiously grazing her thigh against his as a teasing attempt.
"I was beginning to grow sick of showering Wuzzy twice everyday," Draco said carefully.
"I'm sure it must have been a real chore," she simpered, trailing her fingers down his well-chiselled chest.
Draco gulped, his eyes attentively on her chest as she wiped off a bead of sweat trickling down into the confines of her rather tight-fitting shirt.
"Yes, yes. James should enjoy the duck," Draco managed to stammer out while his gaze rested on Ginny's chest.
Kissing him soundly on the lips, she Levitated Wuzzy into the cutlery drawer, struggling to fit its fat arse in. The silverware ought to keep him busy for a while.
Draco was already loosening his Hermes tie and Oxford shirt, and when he wasn't looking, she couldn't help but stick her tongue out immaturely in the general direction of the cutlery drawer where the duck currently resided.
After all, she ihad/i conquered the duck.