Chapter Two

"Virginia! Avez-vous gagné le poids?" Her mother's sharp voice broke Virginia's reverie, and she turned wearily to face her. Have you gained weight? One of her mother's favourite questions.

"No, Maman."

"Mon poussin," her mother continued to berate her, reaching out impatiently to smooth her hair behind her ear, like she was a messy child and not a young woman. "Zat dress is not flattering, take it off." Virginia refrained, with difficulty, from sighing, knowing it would do no good. She found herself in this sort of situation far too often with her mother. Whatever she did, she was never quite good enough, or beautiful enough, or graceful enough, or witty enough. It was exhausting to try to keep up with her mother's wishes.

"Poussin!" her mother snapped, "Hurry up!" To an outsider, the her mother's nickname for her, chicken, might have sounded like an endearment. It was not. It's origins stemmed back to her first governess, who had deemed her handwriting "chicken-scratch". Her mother had never let it go, although Virginia's years a Beauxbatons had corrected her handwriting, along with her "appalling posture" and "distinct lack of grace".

Now clad in only her underclothes, Virginia crossed her arms in the cold draught of the room, and awaited further instructions while her mother inspected her. "Turn around," she commanded. "Oui, you have gained weight," she concluded, prodding her daughter's flat stomach. "Zat school was no Beauxbatons." She meant Hogwarts; her disdain for her daughter's second school transcended languages, and she had pulled Virginia out before the end of the war, along with the other aristocratic families, deciding that Virginia didn't need NEWTs, after all.

"Why did zat McGonagelles not implement more exerzise?" her mother demanded, her back turned to Virginia as she rummaged through her daughter's wardrobe.

"Maman, McGonagall," Virginia corrected, trying to keep her voice impassive. "It was a troubled time for the school, with the war, and-"

"Ah, this one will do," Madame Renwick cut in, spinning triumphantly with a light pink chiffon gown, which she proceeded to thrust in her daughter's face. "Well, put it on, poussin, vite!"

Virginia took the proffered gown and stepped into it carefully, pulling it up over her shoulders. The fabric was thin, and stopped at her knees, leaving her calves cold. "Better," her mother offered coldly, circling her.

At that moment her father, the ever-remote Charles Renwick, hammered on the door. "Ladies, it's time to go. Antoinette, Virginia, hurry up." He backed away from the door, and Antoinette tutted, brushing off imaginary lint from the dress. Virginia had noticed a definite coldness between her parents ever since her English father had decided to pull her out of Beauxbatons and move her to Hogwarts so that she could take her OWLs there. Her mother had been highly offended at the slight to the school her mother and grandmother before her had attended, but had been unable to dissuade her husband from the inevitable; he had made his mind up, and Charles Renwick didn't altar his plans.

Normally, Antoinette had to admit, this wasn't a problem, as she agreed with most of his schemes - well, the ones she was allowed in on. But Hogwarts...she shuddered. It had done nothing for her daughter.

"Vite, vite, poussin, we'll be late for dinner. I don't suppose the Malfoys like to be kept waiting." Her tone was irritated, and almost its normal bossy self, but Virginia could detect a hint of nerves under her mother's aloof demeanor. She hadn't been allowed to know why her family had been invited to the Malfoys' for dinner that evening, especially at such short notice, but she thought that her parents did know, and were keeping it from her, for whatever reason. Or no reason, she thought. It was quite common for them to simply forget to tell her things. Like that she was leaving Beauxbatons...she thought bitterly. Or that she was leaving Hogwarts, too...

All she knew was that her mother was desperate for her to look attractive, although that was nothing new. She couldn't leave the house without her mother's disapproving scrutiny, not even to go for a stroll in their own gardens.

Now her mind turned back to tonight, as she followed her mother to the entrance hall, from where they would apparate. The Malfoys had invited them to use the Floo system, but her mother adamantly refused - it was dirty, she said, and rude to appear in a person's fireplace upon the first visit. No, she had said, they would apparate, and walk up the Malfoy's driveway, like the civilized Purebloods they were. No arguments.

Although Virginia had been sorted into Slytherin house for her relatively short time at Hogwarts, she was two years younger than Draco, and had had little to do with him, other than the one time when he had shouted at her for being in his way as he strode down a corridor in a fit of rage. She highly doubted he remembered her; they hadn't seen each other since before the Battles started at Hogwarts, when her mother had withdrawn her.

She knew that her father had done business with Lucius Malfoy, something to do with property acquisition in France, but she wasn't aware that they were friends, or even saw each other sociably. And her mother had never even met Narcissa, and was delighted and humbled, in her words, to be meeting such a fine and noble lady, of such a fine family. At least someone was excited, if nervous, about the dinner, Virginia mused, taking in her mother's state. Her father looked wary and unimpressed at his wife's tardiness, and gripped the arms of his wife and daughter roughly as they apparated to Malfoy Manor.

*.*.*.*.*

Draco Malfoy paced the length of the dining room, fists clenched at his sides. "Move, Lexi!" he barked, as his father's newest house-elf got in his way as she carried in the freshly polished goblets. In truth, the elf had done nothing to displease; she seemed well-mannered and obedient, but he was in a foul mood, which his father had warned him that he needed to subdue for their dinner party.

Dinner party. Damn it, of all the insufferable, pointless, godforsaken social customs...He stopped and took a deep breath to calm down. It wasn't even the party he was angry about, he reminded himself. It was the letter.

His father had burst into his room late that morning, fuming, and thrust a piece of parchment at him, with the seal of the Ministry. He was to be married, falling, as he did, into the category of single 16-45 year-olds, and to a mudblood, no less. Except he wasn't, not now. Now, his father had taken it upon himself to find him a bride himself.

In some ways, Draco had to admit, this was better. He couldn't picture the Creevey girl, but based on his memories of her brothers...No, his father's choice had to be better than that. He probably wouldn't have minded at all, if it hadn't been for Pansy, who he was still rather hung-up over. But, as of this morning, she was betrothed to some idiot Hufflepuff, poor girl. And even Astoria, his mother's choice, was to be married to Ronald Weasley. He did not envy her. Thank Merlin the Ministry hadn't tried to put him with Ginevra...or Granger, come to that.

"Draco, come and wait in the Hall," his mother called from the door. "They're just walking up the path."

*.*.*.*.*

Virginia tried not to stare up at the Manor looming over her as she struggled to keep up with her parents, who were striding down the gravel path between two intimidating hedgerows. They reached the impressive wrought-iron gates, which swung open for them, as if expecting guests. Her father drew himself up to his full height, guessing that someone was watching them, perhaps from one of the diamond-paneled windows.

"Stand up straight," her mother hissed at her, as they stopped before the front door, and her father knocked firmly, before stepping back and adjusting his cloak slightly, straightening the expensive fabric.

Quickly, the door swung open, revealing Lucius Malfoy. Virginia vaguely wondered why he'd opened the door himself, but pushed that thought aside as she smiled politely. He didn't seem to notice her. Lucius greeted her parents formally, and stepped aside to let them in. Three house-elves rushed over to them, bowing low before taking their travelling cloaks.

"It's so good to have you here," Lucius cooed, his voice velvet. "Madam Renwick," he said, addressing her mother with the smallest hint of an accent, suggesting a knowledge of the French language, "Enchanté." Virginia tried not to wince as her mother blushed slightly, and extended her hand for Lucius to kiss.

His eyes seemed to find Virginia for the first time, and he took a small step towards her. She held her ground, although she would instinctively have stepped back: the man was intimidating and, frankly, she was struggling to keep eye contact. "Mademoiselle Virginia, enchanté." He took her proffered hand, his grey eyes never leaving hers. "I'm so glad you could come tonight."

"It was an honour to be invited," her father interceded before she was forced to answer. From the shadows in the corner of the hall, movement caught Virginia's eye, and Lucius turned at the sound of footsteps.

Draco had stepped forward, just behind the women Virginia assumed to be Narcissa Malfoy. She was a tall and slim woman, currently dressed in a light pink gown, not dissimilar to Virginia's own. She had about her an air of grace and good-breeding, much like her mother and her the women of her mother's family in France. Her long blond hair was swept up in a braid, and neatly charmed back. In the dim light of the hall, her pale skin looked almost ethereal, and her distinguished beauty was striking.

"Charles, I believe you've met my wife, Narcissa. Narcissa, our guests: Mr and Madam Renwick and Mademoiselle Virginia Renwick." Narcissa walked gracefully over the rug that covered the floor of the entrance hall, and Virginia watched as her father greeted her, kissing both cheeks. Her mother did the same.

When Narcissa turned to kiss Virginia, her expression changed, but almost imperceptibly, her eyes glinting by the candle light. As she leant down, Virginia could smell her perfume, and when she stood back, she kept a light hold on Virginia's shoulders, almost like she was inspecting her, or assessing her for some reason. Virginia glanced down, feeling uncomfortable under the older woman's scrutiny.

"Draco, come," Lucius commanded, and Virginia recognized in his voice the same tone her mother used with her in the presence of visitors. Draco stepped forward reluctantly, and shook hands with her parents, a cold smile plastered to his face which didn't reach his eyes, and nodded to Virginia.

The two families introduced, Narcissa cleared her throat, and invited them into the dining room. Her clear voice echoed in the hall as the Renwicks were led through a dark corridor.

*.*.*.*.*

Once again, Virginia found herself trying not to stare. The Malfoy dining room couldn't have been further removed from her own family suite, which was light and decorated by her mother in calm, clean pastel colours. The Malfoy's dining room was long and narrow, with a long black table stretching from one end to the other. House-elves, clad in crisp white aprons, lined the walls, another example of the Malfoys' obvious wealth.

Narcissa led the group into the room, slipping into her role as hostess with ease. "Mr and Mrs Renwick, would you like to sit down?" She gestured to two places on the left side of the table. Virginia noticed with interest how her mother, who would normally pout slightly at being addressed as "Mrs" and not "Madam", either didn't notice or didn't care when Narcissa spoke to her. She was clearly as impressed with the woman as she'd expected to be.

Lucius took Virginia by surprise, slipping his arm under hers and guiding her around the table, to sit in the seat opposite her mother. Draco sat at the end of the table next to Virginia, and Lucius took the head position, with Narcissa on his right, opposite Mr Renwick. Antoinette noticed with approval how the Malfoy men waited until the ladies were seated before sitting themselves: this was exactly the type of good-breeding she wanted for her daughter...

Most of the conversation during the starter took place at the head of the table, between Lucius and Charles, with Virginia's mother keeping a firm eye on her daughter, lest she do something unforgivably clumsy or rude at the table.

Narcissa had begun the meal making polite small talk with Virginia, but as the main course was served, Virginia couldn't help but notice that her questions became more personal, and that whenever she gave a positive answer, Narcissa would shoot an odd look at Draco, who remained utterly silent.

What was your education at Beauxbatons like? she had asked, and How did you do in your OWLs? What have you been doing these past few months, since you left Hogwarts? She looked particularly pleased when Virginia told her that she'd spent the last few months at their family home, perfecting her French under a governess, and increasing her understanding of Herbology. She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Draco, who smiled stiffly in return, but still said nothing.

By the time desert was served, Virginia was becoming slightly suspicious as to the Malfoys' reasons for inviting them. There was definitely some sort of underlying tension, and whenever the Ministry was mentioned, the adults would exchange glances and change the subject, without fail onto the topic of Virginia, and her life. Antoinette interjected wherever possible, praising her daughter to the Malfoys, which made Virginia especially nervous. Her mother never praised her, not even in front of guests. More than once during the course of the meal, Virginia would glance up and find Lucius watching her, his hard eyes drinking her in.

After they had finished eating, Lucius invited Charles and Antoinette to join him and Narcissa in the drawing room for drinks, and 'suggested' that Draco take Virginia on a tour of the grounds.

"It's dark, Father," Draco replied, his voice sounding rusty from lack of use all evening. Lucius glared at him.

"The moon is bright tonight, Draco. Take your wand - you'll be fine." His tone left no room for argument, and Draco rose stiffly, helping Virginia by pulling her seat out. She rose slightly stiffly after the long meal, and smiled at him in thanks. He averted his eyes.

"Draco, a word please, before you go." Narcissa smiled at the rest of the party to excuse herself, and led her son into the anteroom through a hidden adjoining door behind where he'd been sitting. She waited until the rest of the party had left the dining room, before turning on him.

"Draco, what has happened to your manners tonight?" she demanded, gripping his chin to search his eyes. "You know perfectly well that Virginia, in all likelihood, will become your wife, and not in too distant a future. Why aren't you talking to her?"

Draco shrugged, and tried to look away. "She doesn't know, does she?"

"Hmm?"

"She doesn't know. I can see it in her eyes. She's trying to work out what we want from her."

"Perhaps."

"She has a right to know, don't you think, what Father has planned?"

His mother narrowed her eyes in warning. "If Mr and Mrs Renwick haven't seen it fit to tell their daughter yet, that is their business, and not ours. Do you understand? If your father is pleased with her, she will know soon enough." Draco shook his head.

"What if she asks me?"

"She won't," his mother replied with confidence. "She's a well-raised, polite young woman. She spent her formative years at Beauxbatons, for Merlin's sake. She knows it would be out of place to ask you such an accusatory question."

Draco still looked apprehensive. "What is it, Draco? You've talked to girls before. What's wrong with you?"

"I've talked to Pansy before. And Daphne and Astoria. I grew up with them. I barely know this girl."

Narcissa sighed impatiently. "What more do you want, Draco? I suggested Virginia to your father this morning for a reason: she's an intelligent, well-raised, Pureblood. She's was even a Slytherin! She's young, she's polite, and you can't deny that the girl's beautiful." She took in her son's unimpressed expression. "Well, no matter, I could always send her home and call the Creeveys - how about that?" she hissed. "Olivia Creevey. Older than you, ex-Hufflepuff, plain, from what I've heard, mudblood...Is that what you want?"

Draco grimaced. "No, Mother. Forgive me." Narcissa nodded sharply, and released him.

"Go and take her on the tour. And not a word." Draco nodded meekly.

*.*.*.*.*

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