Disclaimer: The following is a work of fan fiction using characters from the world of Harry Potter, which is owned by J.K. Rowling. The characters, creatures and other related descriptions are also owned by J.K. Rowling. I will not be receiving any monies in relation to this fan fiction. I have also used the HP Lexicon for some minor details.
The Marriage Market
Chapter IV
An Undeniable Feeling
Draco Malfoy half-heartedly spooned up his porridge, preferring to give all attention to the thoughts racing through his mind than to the bowl of unsatisfying oats in front of him. He had come into London with the express intention of finding a wife; that wife had to be of good wizarding stock to please the memory of his parents and, to please himself, she had to be beautiful. Those were the only two requirements he had set himself, this was to make his decision easy and quick. Draco detested the London season and had wanted to be removed from it as reasonably fast as possible.
Then he had been introduced to Ginevra Weasley. Perhaps not of the stock his mother and father would generally approve of, but her mother had been a Prewett and her mother had bore a great number of children. This would have placated his parents, had they been alive; it was important for a witch to be fertile and at least have some good family background. And perhaps she was not of the usual beauty he would have normally been attracted to, but there was a fire in her eyes when they looked upon him that quickened his breath. The curve of her heart-shaped lips simply begged him to kiss her. Her figure, though not elegant, moved with a grace and curvature that most elegant witches could only hope to aspire, and when he held her in a dance, it was with so much ease that he could not deny he had an unbidden attraction for her.
For the past month or so, Draco had wilfully gone out of his way to meet with her, to dance with her, to converse with her and, last night, he had finally stolen a kiss from her. Miss Weasley's lips had been just as soft against his as he had imagined, and then it had finished just as quickly as it had started.
And, what was he going to do about this?
The question pressed upon him so urgently, now that he had kissed her, where before it had been lurking in the back of his mind awaiting a rainy day.
"I am still waiting for a thanks, Malfoy," came his friend's voice as he dropped into a chair carelessly across from him and began spreading marmalade onto some toast. "I do believe you owe me that."
"Yes, you were very subtle," Draco said, sarcasm evident in his voice. "I should think the entire population of wizarding London knows the gossip this morning."
Zabini shrugged casually. "I did not see you complaining much and, furthermore, it did not seem as though you were going to do much about our favourite redhead." With that, he bit into his toast and felt that was sufficient.
"Our favourite?"
Zabini nodded. "I have decided that she is rather interesting, despite her lack of breeding," he explained in an offhand way. "In consequence of that, I decided to push things gently forward."
"Oh, thanks for that, Zabini," Draco said humourlessly. "I am so glad you are here to make these decisions for me."
"My pleasure," Zabini replied, evidently choosing to ignore the sarcasm in Draco's voice.
Draco scoffed at the arrogance of his friend, torn between annoyance and gratitude. What he really wanted to say to Zabini was to keep to his own affairs, but he would not have had the opportunity to kiss Miss Weasley had it not been for his friend's interference. "Perhaps I have decided to set my sights elsewhere," he said instead, "perhaps I did not find Miss Weasley as satisfactory as I first thought."
Zabini completely dropped his casual facade and laughed loudly and derisively. He was not easily fooled. "Is that so? Then, pray, tell me why you offended your other guests when they attempted to speak with you whilst Miss Weasley was singing?" he asked with a wry smile. "You are lucky they were so understanding of your wide-eyed affection, not that you care, I suppose. My cousin will be devastated," he added as he took another bite of his toast. "Though, that will be one less person for you to invite."
"Invite?" Draco asked, bemused.
"I assumed you were planning on asking for Miss Weasley's hand in marriage," Zabini said bluntly. "I expect to be best man, by the way."
The question he had been asking himself before his friend rudely interrupted him came back, unbidden. It was the natural and most logical thing to do; to ask Miss Weasley to marry him. It would mean he could leave London and return to the Manor and return to his charitable interests. Yet, he had not actually bargained on having feelings for his wife; that changed everything. Draco had planned on taking whomever he married back to the Manor, securing a pregnancy as quickly as possible and leaving his wife to her own devices. But, now, he would wish to take his time to know her, he would want her to assist him in his charitable pursuits and her aspirations to become a mediwitch would also need to be addressed.
The thought of her being in any kind of close proximity to Eric Thorpe made his blood boil, so joining St. Mungo's as a mediwitch was going to be highly problematic.
This was all if she actually accepted his proposal.
Draco hesitated before he spoke; he trusted Zabini, however he did not like him to know his inner troubles, but he had to have some affirmation in this important decision. "I am not certain of what her answer may be," he said in a firm voice, warning his friend to not laugh. "I cannot give a proposal if I am likely to be turned down, my pride shall not bear it."
Zabini, thankfully, did not laugh, but he did smirk. "Malfoy, she was far from turning away when you went to kiss her last night," he pointed out. "I have seen so many of those forfeits played out; a witch would turn away if she did not want the wizard to kiss her."
Draco thought back to the night before, but already knew that he needn't play out the scene again; he had been very aware of her willingness to participate before he had even placed his lips upon hers. He had felt Miss Weasley looking up at him by the touch of his hand on her jaw, she had been waiting, perhaps impatiently, for him to kiss her. Though he knew that last part was his own embellishment. The fact remained that she had not resisted nor refused, which she had been well within her rights to do.
"I shall wait until this wedding has passed," he finally said, deciding on a simple plan of action.
Zabini's eyes widened in surprise. "You are going to make an offer?"
Draco shook his head. "No, not yet, it would be far more prudent for me to court her first," he said, now more to himself than his friend as he stood to leave the table. "I must go, you will have to entertain yourself today, Zabini."
"Where are you going, Malfoy?" Zabini called after him, half between laughing and bemusement.
Draco did not answer his friend and left the breakfast room, a determination within him to achieve a future happiness that he had not expected would ever rest upon a Weasley agreeing to marry him. The thought could have made him laugh if the situation were not so serious.
He had dressed carefully, choosing his most handsome set of visiting clothes, and had spent an inordinate amount of time in front of his mirror. "Very dashing," it had said. Draco felt that he had no better critic than his mirror as it was so honest, and decided he should leave before the morning was out. It would be greatly irritating to travel to Mrs Prewett's residence, only to find that both ladies had gone out visiting elsewhere. A letter could be sent ahead, but that would spoil the effect he wished to create.
That was how he had found himself standing upon the doorstep of Mrs Prewett's townhouse across town, his palms sweaty despite his attempts to keep that calm air he affected so well. Normally he would be surveying the surrounding area, casting criticisms in his mind, but he was far too nervous to think about such trifles. Finally, he stepped forward and gripped the doorknocker and let it fall firmly against the blue-painted door.
A few moments passed and Draco wondered if he had taken too long in getting ready after all until he heard the lock click, which was quickly followed by the door swinging open to reveal a plump house elf standing in the doorway.
"Good morning, sir," the house elf said sombrely. "May Tarly ask what it is that sir requires?"
Draco cleared his throat. He could deal with house elves. "I am here to see the lady of the house, Mrs Prewett, and her niece, Miss Weasley."
The house elf called Tarly bowed and stepped aside, indicating for him to make his way into the entrance hall. Draco stepped inside and handed his travelling cloak to the house elf, who had been holding her arms out. The house was decorated as he had expected, in the style and tastes of an older woman, but again he did not dwell on such things. "Please come through, sir," the house elf said as she made Draco's cloak disappear and led him into a small parlour room, "Tarly shall tell Mrs Prewett of sir's arrival. Who shall Tarly say is calling, sir?"
"Draco Malfoy," he answered, taking the indicated seat by the iron-wrought fireplace. A fire had not yet been lit.
Tarly left Draco now to his own thoughts, but these were soon interrupted by sudden scrapings on the floor above him; muffled, indistinct voices told him that his arrival had just been announced to both witches. This all preceded the loud footsteps that could now be heard banging down the stairs in a hurry.
"Mr. Malfoy!" exclaimed Mrs Prewett as she burst through the parlour door. "What a surprise! I daresay I have only just gotten ready myself... but, please, forgive me, would you like some tea?"
Draco declined the offer, wishing to get to the point before Miss Weasley joined them. "In truth, I am not here to have tea, Mrs Prewett," he said quietly. "I am here because I wish to court your niece." It was a dangerous gamble; Mrs Prewett could be deeply offended by his openness. Yet, he sensed she was the kind of woman who had experience, who understood that some traditions were made to be twisted.
Mrs Prewett's eyes bulged precariously at his words and she took a seat across from him. "I daresay your methods are quite irregular, Mr. Malfoy," she said in disbelief, "but I approve."
"You approve?" Draco said, now confused and surprised.
"Well, of course," she replied, a gleeful and mischievous look on her face as she leant in closer to him so that she could whisper. "Ginevra is a headstrong girl, without my help, you could not hope to court her successfully. Oh, don't take that to mean she doesn't wish to court you," she said hurriedly, noticing the frown that crossed his face. "It is plain to everyone but Ginevra that she is of a mind to be in love with you. It is a mere matter of showing that to her."
Draco could not have hoped for a better response to assuage his doubts. Of course, he wanted Miss Weasley to be a willing participant in their courtship, that would obviously assist in his final goal of proposing her marriage successfully. "I am glad of your assistance, Mrs Prewett," he said gratefully. "But, please do keep this arrangement to yourself, at least until it is widely known that I am courting Miss Weasley. Not that this will remain secret for very long."
"Mr. Malfoy, forgive me for saying so, but many of your guests from last night believe it to be so already," Mrs Prewett said.
Before they could continue their conversation, the parlour door opened again and Miss Weasley walked in. Draco stood up immediately to bow politely to her and watch her curtsey to him; he quickly drank in her appearance. She wore a cream-coloured day dress, which was patterned with flowers, the sleeves blossomed out to her wrists as was the fashion, and she wore her red hair tied back at the nape of her neck, ringlets loosely falling down one side of her shoulders. Her complexion was pale but flushed with the effort of getting ready so fast, and her bright, brown eyes were alive with curiosity.
"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," she said quietly, and neither made a move to take their seats. Draco idly wondered what she was thinking, he wondered if she were remembering the feel of his lips on hers. The tingle he was feeling on his own told him he was doing just that.
"Ginevra, dear," Mrs Prewett said loudly, drawing their attention back to the older woman. "Mr. Malfoy has just invited us to take a turn with him in the park. Tarly will fetch your bonnet and cloak for you."
Draco went along with Mrs Prewett's announcement, clearly she worked quickly and was keen to show him just how much help she would give. The arrangements were made to leave the house quickly and, once all their cloaks had been given them, they left the house and made their way along the street to a small park at the far end. Draco rarely ventured into any of the parks in London, mostly because they were filled with Muggles and in front of whom doing magic was forbidden, but this one seemed near deserted aside from a couple of women sitting on a bench in the far corner of the park.
They walked for a while together, speaking of the weather and the various oddities the park had to offer in terms of conversation until Mrs Prewett decided that she needed to rest her ankles, and would seat herself at one of the vacant benches they had passed. This left him sufficiently alone with Miss Weasley.
"You are looking very well this morning, Miss Weasley," he started, breaking the silence between them before it became awkward.
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," she replied shortly, and it seemed that would be all he would get from her for now.
"Did my actions offend you last night, Miss Weasley?" he asked, as that was all he could possibly think of for why she was being unusually quiet.
Miss Weasley shook her head. "Oh no, of course not," she replied, her face still betraying no thought or feeling. "Like I said, it is only a game."
"And I was successful in the game, don't you agree?" he asked, stopping now so he could look into her face properly. Mrs Prewett was safely out of earshot, as were the two women at the other end of the path.
"What do you mean?" she asked, looking up at him so that their eyes met. Curiosity still filled her brown eyes.
"I kissed the prettiest woman in the room," he answered simply, and he took a breath. "I should like to kiss you again, if you would allow it."
Miss Weasley's bright eyes widened in surprise. "Mr. Malfoy, you are too forward," she whispered in an admonishing voice and she continued to walk ahead of him, he had to quicken his pace to rejoin her. "I would go back to my aunt if it were not for the fact that she would only encourage such inappropriate behaviour."
Draco only laughed. "Please, stop, Miss Weasley," he said, taking her hand secretly beneath the folds of their cloaks. It would not do to have those Muggle women descend into a fainting fit at witnessing their touch. "Do not tell me these stuffy traditions bind you? The way you are glancing at my lips tells me you desire another kiss. Why deny it?"
Her eyes snapped back up to his hastily. "It is not traditions that hold me back, Mr. Malfoy," she whispered furiously. "It is respect for my mother and father, and for my family."
"I respect that, Miss Weasley," he replied seriously. "But, is that to say, were it not for those things, that you would kiss me? I will take that as my consolation."
Miss Weasley gaped at him. "You are insufferable, I said nothing of the sort!"
"Sometimes words are not needed to convey one's desires, Miss Weasley," he replied softly, resisting the urge to brush his fingers against her face.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "What is it that you want from me, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked suspiciously.
"Miss Weasley, that is a dangerous question to ask of me," he said gently, grasping her hand firmly and noting the fact that she had not attempted to pull away from him. "Are you sure you wish to hear the answer?"
Draco could see that she hesitated before nodding. "Yes, I do," she said firmly, "I am tired of wondering what your attentions could mean."
He smiled and squeezed her hand to show he was not trying to intimidate her as he stepped as close as propriety would allow in public. "I only wish to court your affections, Miss Weasley," he replied, again in a soft and quiet voice. Draco hoped it came across as intimate. "That is, if no other wizard is courting them?"
"Y-you wish to-to court me?" she breathed out, her breath visible in the cold, February air. Her eyes bore into his, as though trying to search out the truth behind this madness "To what end?"
Draco gave a low laugh. "'To what end?'" he repeated, almost disbelieving that she could ask such a thing. Was it not obvious? "Of course, to understand the witch whom I intend to propose marriage to." Miss Weasley gasped and broke their gaze, letting go of his hand as she turned away from him. "Does that shock you, Miss Weasley? Why else should I wish to court you?" he asked, confused.
"I-I do not know..." she finished quietly, her figure stiff as she looked ahead of her.
"I suppose it is rather odd that I should willingly lose myself to your affections, Miss Weasley, considering my past, considering our families," he explained. "But, I implore you to consider this seriously."
Miss Weasley was quiet for some time, still not deigning to look at him and he had to restrain himself from forcing her to turn his way. "But, I don't understand," she finally said, confusion still in her voice.
"You think I do? Forgive me, but I had not ever imagined that I should even be considering making a Weasley my wife," he replied honestly, hoping this would appeal to some shred of generosity within her. "Yet, here I am, begging for your attentions. My father would be mocking me were he alive, my mother too, I expect. But, damn them, it is only your thoughts that I care to hear at this moment." Draco wished they were alone so he could kiss her, hard, to make her see reason where his words seemed to be failing. It was only logical that she should be his; it was obvious to him now in the way his body yearned for her to merely look at him.
"How can you know that this is what you want?" she asked, her voice still disbelieving. "We hardly know each other."
"That is why courtship is necessary," he said, stepping in front of her, no longer able to resist. Miss Weasley still kept her eyes lowered, firmly fixed upon the ground as though she could not bear to witness the truth of what was happening in front of her. "We will be allowed time alone within your aunt's residence, we will be allowed to dance more than two dances together; there will be many instances where we can speak freely with one another without interruption or fear of impropriety."
Miss Weasley remained silent again, for a long time, until she turned to look at him. Her brown eyes housing that fire that had drawn him into this madness to begin with. "Very well, Mr. Malfoy," she said resolutely, "I will consent to your courtship, but I make no promises for your future designs."
"Of course not," he breathed out, taking her hand and kissing it, damning whomever was in the park. Let them see, he could not care less. She lowered her eyes in the face of it, but she did not pull back from him and it gratified him to see the slightest smile playing at her lips no matter how much she had tried to hide it. "But, I do not share, you understand. If you should be attending a ball or some other such function, I expect you to decline any other man's request to dance."
"Well, that is not unreasonable," she replied softly, continuing their walk further up the park. "And I expect the same loyalty from you, Mr. Malfoy. I will not be made a fool of."
Draco did not expect anything less, he could not have respected her if she had not requested the same. "I should not want to dance with another witch. And, surely, we can dispense with the formalities?" he said. "I should prefer it if you would call me 'Draco'."
They continued to walk in silence then, though it was not awkward. Draco was between feeling elation and confusion, unsure why she had actually consented, and so he was glad to even walk with her. But it soon became disagreeable to him when more and more people began arriving in the park, despite the chill in the air. So they returned to her aunt, who had dutifully waited on the bench for more than three quarters of an hour and was ready to return to the warmth of her townhouse. Though Draco was not yet ready to part from Miss Weasley; he had achieved his goal, but he had not yet begun to know her.
"Mr. Malfoy, you must come back to lunch with us," Mrs Prewett suggested almost as soon as he stood beside her. "I am sure my niece agrees, don't you, Ginevra?"
Miss Weasley only nodded, betraying nothing in her eyes or face. Draco knew she was going to be difficult in his pursuit, but he wasn't shy of working hard when he really wanted something. Ginevra Weasley would be his before the month was out, that he could guarantee.
Ginevra could feel Mr. Malfoy's gloved hand underneath the folds of her cloak, holding hers so casually, as if it was natural that he should do so. It made her think back to when he had gripped her hand in the park, when he was near pleading with her to see it his way and that reminded her of the determined look in his eyes and the passion in his voice. He truly believed that she should court him. In that moment, Demelza's words had resonated in her mind telling her to at least allow Mr. Malfoy to court her if he wished. Ginevra had not expected the situation to happen so soon after their conversation.
And it was a risk. Ginevra was never one to shy away from taking a risk, sometimes it could be exhilarating. Though it remained to be seen whether or not this could be the most foolish thing she had ever done. That little voice in her head, the one that spoke in a voice of reason (somehow it always ended up sounding like Hermione), did not believe her own reasoning; it told her that she had wanted this from the moment he had kissed her the evening before, that she shouldn't deny her feelings however confusing they may be, and furthermore, to not lie to herself.
Very well, she thought, Mr. Malfoy had undoubtedly stirred some feelings. That much she could say to herself. It was only a feeling and she could say that she was intrigued by him, she could say she even liked him, but she could not say she loved him, and she was damned if she was going to let him have her so easily, particularly as marriage seemed so ridiculous. How could she marry a Malfoy? How could she really marry Draco Malfoy? It would take much for him to persuade her of such an ending to their courtship. Perhaps this courtship would make him see that he could not possibly marry her.
All three arrived back at the townhouse, cold from the wind that had picked up mercilessly since they had left more than an hour ago. It was a relief to step inside and warm themselves by the now lit fire in the parlour.
"I hear that you are invited to Mr. Higgs and Miss Robbins wedding, Mr. Malfoy?" her aunt said as they sat down and she poured the tea that had been already been placed on the table.
"Yes, I am," Mr. Malfoy replied. "They are well matched, he has been lucky to meet Miss Robbins so early in the season."
"Yes, I daresay they are the first in our circle of acquaintances to find such luck," Muriel said happily. "And I doubt Miss Robbins isn't much too bothered about this Quidditch career she has been fantasising about."
"Actually, Demelza will continue with Quidditch," Ginevra interjected, a little pompously but then she was not going to allow her aunt to give Mr. Malfoy any ideas about her giving up on her career. "Mr. Higgs is quite adamant that she shouldn't stop on his account." And with that she took a sip of her tea and said no more on the subject.
Muriel looked extremely put out by this. "Well, that is very odd indeed. Not indicative of most wizards, I am sure."
Ginevra did not say anything. Here was an excellent opportunity for Mr. Malfoy to air his feelings on the subject.
"It is not particularly necessary for Miss Robbins to give up Quidditch," he said decidedly. "Most wizarding estates can run themselves without much intervention, having house elves makes it easier. But, should they have children, I think it would be prudent for her to give Quidditch up."
Ginevra frowned. "And why do you think that?"
"Quidditch is a dangerous sport, Miss Weasley," he replied simply. "That much is obvious. Most Quidditch players finish their careers by the time they are ready to have children at any rate, the sport is physically tiring."
Ginevra did not argue that point; it was true enough. "But what of other pursuits?" she asked. "In other career paths, would it be strange to you for a witch to return to work?"
A ghost of a smirk appeared on his face; it was obvious he knew what she was really asking. "It would all depend on the career," he replied, not obliging her.
Ginevra decided to say no more on the subject for now, especially as her aunt was staring beadily at her and obviously disapproving of her niece's questioning, as she changed the subject abruptly. "Well, we have also been invited to the wedding, though it is troublesome that I do not have a place in the area from which to apparate," she said as though galled by the idea that Demelza should be getting married somewhere such as Somerset. "I do not like to apparate so far, you see. Though I suppose they may arrange Portkeys for those travelling from London."
"I will be leaving from the Manor, it is only a county over from Somerset," Mr. Malfoy said. "I would be glad to receive you as my guests for the days leading up to the wedding, if you have no other engagements? Miss Robbins may like to have her friend close by at such a time."
Aunt Muriel's face lit up like an over-decorated Christmas tree. "Why, how generous of you, Mr. Malfoy!" she exclaimed. "We should not want to trouble you." Ginevra knew this was a lie, nothing short of Mr. Malfoy proposing marriage right now could have made her any more ecstatic. "But it would make things far easier for us."
"It would be no trouble at all, Mrs Prewett," he replied politely. "I am only returning to the Manor to attend to some issues that have arisen in my absence, nothing too interesting, so it would not be any trouble. In truth, I should be glad of your company. Mr. Zabini is staying in town with his cousin, you see."
"An excellent idea, is it not, Ginevra?" her aunt asked, taking her by surprise. Ginevra had not thought her input would be needed, her aunt had already made up her mind.
"Yes, it will be better for your health to apparate at a shorter distance," she replied. "I also hear you have wonderful grounds, Mr. Malfoy. It will be nice to see them."
"They are nothing compared to how they look in late spring, Miss Weasley," he said gently as he turned his gaze upon her. "But it will be my pleasure to escort you around the grounds, nevertheless. They were the pride and joy of my mother, so I hope you will appreciate their beauty."
Ginevra smiled and resigned herself to the fact that she had created a situation in which they should be alone together. Aunt Muriel was not one for landscapes, especially in the country, and she despised the cold when away from London, so she would never join them. There was no problem with them being alone together, it was more that she worried what liberties he might think he could take, particularly as their interactions were already quite frank.
The day passed in much the same way and Mr. Malfoy stayed all the way up until supper. Aunt Muriel did most of the talking as she seemed determined to get as much information out of him as possible, and it wasn't until he left that her aunt could speak her mind fully.
"Ginevra, dear!" she exclaimed as Mr. Malfoy departed in his carriage after having taken leave of them. "I am proud of you, child! I knew you could attract a decent husband, if you only put the effort in."
"Aunt, I did nothing," she said honestly. "This is all his doing. And he has not proposed me marriage, please do not get ahead of yourself."
Muriel laughed derisively. "And do you not think that is his intention?"
"Once this courtship is done, he may change his mind," she said, tired from the day's events.
"Not if you should behave like a witch who would make a good wife," her aunt said with a frown. "Do not be a fool and sabotage this, Ginevra."
Ginevra rolled her eyes. "I shall behave like myself," she said firmly. "If he truly wants me as a wife, then he will have to accept every part of me and my life."
Muriel stared at her, aghast at such a suggestion. Evidently, she believed that Ginevra's personality and true manners were much to be desired. This did not offend her; her aunt's ideas were very old-fashioned and she was notoriously hard to please as it was. If nothing, it humoured her.
"Mr. Malfoy has overlooked some of the unpleasant aspects of your behaviour," her aunt sniffed. "I will give you that, but there only so much any right-minded wizard will take from a witch."
Ginevra laughed. "Then his level of tolerance will have to extend further if he ever hopes to attain me." With that, she left her aunt standing in the entrance hall and went up to her bedroom to undress and ready herself for bed.
Before she could even get into bed, a tapping noise sounded at her window. Ginevra moved the curtain aside and saw a familiar owl sitting on the window sill, a small package tied to its leg. She let the owl in and gestured to the food in her own owl's tray after removing the package. Inside was a small red velvet box and a ribbon-tied posey with white heliotrope and peach blossom; she knew it was a message but wasn't entirely sure of it's actual meaning. Her aunt had spoken briefly on floriography, a relatively new way for young lovers to converse in secret, but she had not provided much detail. Ginevra would consult her bookshelf once the contents of the velvet box were revealed.
The box itself was heavier than she expected and when she opened it a small piece of folded up parchment fell on her bed. What was inside the box caught her attention first and it made her blush to wonder how much he might have paid; it was a bracelet mostly made up of a single string of pearls that were held together by a small gold letter M, which was set with emeralds. The bracelet was a traditional gift in wizarding circles at the beginning of a courtship, but this must have cost Mr. Malfoy a fair amount and it was not customary for a wizard to do such a thing until there was an engagement.
Ginevra daren't even put such a delicate thing on, not until she read his letter at any rate, so she unfolded the parchment and began to read.
Ginevra,
Mr. Zabini tells me it is tradition for a wizard to send the object of his courting a token of their intentions, something that will warn off other potential suitors. This bracelet was my grandmother's, given to her by my grandfather, and I thought it would better suit you rather than the display cabinet it was languishing in for many years. I hope you like it well enough to wear it at Lady Selwyn's mid-season ball that we will both be attending in the coming weeks, and also at Mr. Higgs and Miss Robbins wedding. I cannot say how much it would mean to me for you to oblige this request.
The flowers are for your eyes only.
Yours,
Draco
PS Please oblige my owl as well and allow him some food.
Ginevra thought him to be slightly insane to entrust a family heirloom to her; the bracelet was, in effect, priceless. Worth far more than she had imagined. Well, it was of his choosing and if he wanted her to wear it, then she would but she could not guarantee that it would be safe with her. Ginevra supposed that she must send him something back; if he wished her to dance with only him at balls and wanted each wizard in attendance to know she was no longer available for pursuit, then he would do the same for her. He would not even entertain the idea of dancing with another woman outside of his own family. He would certainly not be dancing with Miss Zabini.
Then an idea came to her; she would give Mr. Malfoy one of her new monogrammed handkerchiefs. It was not at all inappropriate, in fact, she knew of many women who had given such tokens, and she would ask him to wear it in his breast pocket with her initials displayed clearly for all to see. Ginevra went over to her chest of drawers and pulled out a white handkerchief, her initials sewn in at one corner in dark blue thread and proceeded to her desk, where she took up a quill.
Mr. Malfoy,
I shall oblige your request, however you should also be willing to oblige mine. I have enclosed a handkerchief, which I expect you to wear in your breast pocket at Lady Selwyn's ball, with my initials on show.
Yours Sincerely,
Ginevra Weasley
She enclosed the handkerchief with the letter whilst folding it and called down his owl, who was still happily eating. Her own owl looked distinctly put off by this intrusion, and especially when Ginevra did not use her to send the letter.
"I am only sending him back to his master," she explained as she let the owl back out the window and watched it fly off over the dark roofs. "Don't be offended." Athena hooted softly and returned to eating her food once she was certain the intruder had disappeared.
Ginevra now turned to her bookcase and found the book on floriography, simply titled Floriography by Verbena Aster, a book her aunt had given her at the beginning of her etiquette teachings and one she had not had much time for, even then; Ginevra had not expected any such occurrence to be given flowers. She quickly flipped through the book, which was helpfully in alphabetical order, found the heliotrope flower and blushed instantly at the single word written in fluid script next to the drawing; devotion. Yet, that was nothing to the peach blossom; next to that exquisite drawing in the same hand was another single word: captivated.
The flowers were truly for her eyes only. Ginevra could not allow her aunt to see the little posey as she would know their meaning immediately and it was plain to see that this was to be between him and her.
Harry had never deigned to be so intimate or forthcoming with his own feelings; she had known he loved her, but he had never given her flowers nor had he ever made her feel so singular with just a kiss, a kiss that had most likely lasted less than a second. Harry had perhaps only ever danced with her once, but Mr. Malfoy had the same talent in making her feel as though they were the only two in the room when he danced with her as he did for kissing. It made her wonder for the first time what Harry would think of her courting Mr. Malfoy and, strangely she found she did not care. Harry had lost his chance to wed her forever, and Mr. Malfoy's attentions had nothing to do with it. If he had not appeared in London this season, Ginevra would still be of the same mind.
Knowing this made her feel as though an immense weight had been lifted from her, a weight she had not realised she had been dragging around with her for so long. Harry no longer held a place in her heart, but she did not mean this maliciously, not at all. Ginevra wanted happiness for him, he deserved that more than most people, but he would have no right to air his opinions on whom she chose to court, or marry for that matter.
With all that in mind, with Mr. Malfoy's secret message, Ginevra was in high anticipation for Lady Selwyn's ball, which carried over into the following days. So different was her manner, that Muriel even commented on how light her niece seemed to be on her feet, how she had never seen her niece so happy since she was a child and how she had never appeared so radiant before. It was exultant praise indeed and one that carried right up until the evening of the ball as the pair of them made their way to Lady Selwyn's.
"I must say how extraordinarily well you look, Ginevra," her aunt said, still with an air of surprise at this change in her niece. "Of course, I knew that we would have to be exceedingly fashionable this evening, considering the Selwyn's mid-season ball is always one of the most important events of the season, but you have surpassed even my own standards."
Ginevra smiled graciously, almost astonished that Muriel would admit such a thing, though she had taken her time in getting ready this evening. She had settled upon a white, low-shouldered gown with a tulle overlay and an intricate, patterned beading, something she had deemed to be far too extravagant until now. She had also intertwined her braided bun with a long string of small pearls borrowed from her aunt, and allowed the rest of her hair to fall down her back in looser ringlets. "Aunt, you must stop complimenting me so," she said in good humour. "I am beginning to think that you may not be at all well, such unremitting praise is very unlike you."
Muriel ignored Ginevra's teasing and pressed on. "Though, of course, it is all because of Mr. Malfoy," she said knowingly, gesturing to the bracelet her niece now wore on her wrist. "An exquisite piece of jewellery, I must say. And, did I not tell you so? Did I not say he would pursue you?"
Ginevra rolled her eyes, but did not say anything; she was not going to give her aunt the pleasure of being vindicated. Mr. Malfoy had indeed pursued her, and he had continued to do so in the weeks leading up to the ball; he had paid her a visit every other day, sometimes they would talk of books, or Quidditch, or discuss the latest news stories from the Daily Prophet. Other times they would sit in silence and read, or she would oblige him by playing the harp and singing, or it would be taking a turn about London in his open top carriage, wrapped up in her thickest winter cloak. Needless to say, most of wizarding London were well aware of Mr. Malfoy and Miss Weasley's courtship, and Ginevra had not been inclined to turn him away as yet. "It is not all because of Mr. Malfoy, at any rate," she decided to say instead. "I have only made an effort because of the ball. You did say this was one of the more significant events of the social season."
"Of course, dear child," Muriel answered in a placating tone, much to Ginevra's chagrin. "But, we are here now. Quick, Ginevra, I am just as excited about this ball as you," she said with urgency, ushering her niece out of the carriage. "Lady Selwyn will soon want to know all the details of your courtship once it becomes common knowledge."
Ginevra stepped out into the cold air, her velvet cloak pulled tightly around her as a footman assisted her descent to the ground. Lady Selwyn's mansion was bustling with activity, even more so than the first ball she had been to there. Every where she looked, she saw young witches and wizards in their best evening wear, each and every one's excitement just as palpable as the next. Ginevra knew it was because of the significance of the ball; it was held mid season because it was usually the time when most of the young people would have decided whom they would be focusing their attentions on and there was nothing like a good ball to get all these young people together to assist them in their pursuits.
Once inside the warmth of the mansion, Ginevra removed her cloak and gave it to a waiting house elf, hardly waiting to see if her aunt followed but she was now too engrossed in conversation with Lady Selwyn, who had accosted her aunt almost immediately upon her arrival. Ginevra took the opportunity to wander around, casting her eye here and there; truthfully she was looking for Mr. Malfoy, who did not seem to be anywhere she had looked so far.
"Miss Weasley," a voice said behind her. "Would you care to dance with me on the next?"
Ginevra turned to find a very proper and straight-backed wizard standing directly behind her; she recognised him as someone she had been introduced to before, but couldn't quite remember his name. Though she was certain that he had not shown much interest in her before. "Oh, thank you for asking," she said politely, curtseying to him. "But I am taken for the entire evening."
He looked taken aback by this. "You are? In such a short space of time, Miss Weasley?" he said sceptically. "But I have only just seen you arrive not five minutes ago."
Ginevra smiled. "Well, I am afraid it is so, apologies." With that, she curtsied again and left him standing there, quite dumbfounded.
But that was not the end of it, many more wizards approached her for dances and still she said 'no' to all of them, even when she began to wonder that Mr. Malfoy may not even be at the ball as she had yet to set eyes upon him.
"I am very sorry, sir," she said, almost unable to keep the exasperation out of her voice, "but I truly I taken for the whole evening."
"Even the last two dances? Let me see your book, then," the wizard said in a disbelieving tone of voice until his eyes focused on something just behind her, causing her to turn her head. There stood Mr. Malfoy, taller than the wizard demanding proof from her and emanating an uncharacteristically intimidating aura.
"There is no need to look at her book, sir," he said with certainty in his voice as he stepped closer to Ginevra and took her hand. "I can tell you that Miss Weasley is engaged to partner with me for the last two dances, and for every other dance this evening." The wizard stared at the pair of them, a battle of wills playing out quite clearly on his face as he tried to decide whether or not to go away or demand that Mr. Malfoy now show him proof. Thankfully, he decided on the former and walked off abruptly without another word. Mr. Malfoy laughed and turned to face Ginevra, her breath hitching in her throat as he bent his head to her, his short wavy hair falling into his eyes, thinking that he would kiss her. "And who can blame him for wanting to dance with the most beautiful witch at the ball?" he simply said in a low voice. She then noticed, as she had requested, her handkerchief peeking out of his breast pocket, her small initials clearly displayed.
"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," she said, ignoring his comment and remaining stoic in his presence, allowing her breath to return to normal. "And, I am very capable of getting rid of unwanted dance partners."
"Of course, but how can a man resist such an opportunity to stake their claim?" he asked with humour. "And, how many times must I tell you to call me 'Draco'?"
"As many times as you please, Mr. Malfoy," she replied with a smirk. "And I suppose you like to be fashionably late?"
He only laughed again, the sound sending her stomach in a flutter. "I wasn't late, Ginevra," he said softly. "I arrived before you and I have been watching your progress from the top of the staircase." Mr. Malfoy gestured to the marble stairs leading to the upper floors, and which gave an excellent view of the entire ball room. "I was glad to see you kept to your word and rebuffed every man who approached you, and I was also glad to see you searching me out."
His hand rested precariously on her waist then as he guided her through the crowds of people. "I was not searching you out," she lied. "Far from it."
"Oh, I beg to differ," he replied, chuckling. "I have learnt quickly that what your face says is the truth, rather than your words. Forgive me, sweet Ginevra, but you are not proficient at hiding your true feelings."
Ginevra decided the best course of action was to ignore what he had just said and change the subject. It seemed to work well with him. "I do not think it prudent for you to be touching me there, Mr. Malfoy," she said pointedly as they continued their progress through the crowd, and she briefly wondered where he was leading her. "We are in company."
"But, of course," he said, removing his hand now to oblige her.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked as they passed the refreshments table and the crowd began to thin out.
"You will see soon enough," he replied evasively. "It will interest you, I daresay."
Ginevra threw him a bemused look as they reached the door leading into the corridor at the far end of the ballroom. "I am not so sure, Mr. Malfoy," she said slowly. "I have seen much of the Selwyn's mansion already."
"Just wait here," he said, ignoring her scepticism. "Wait until I call you." Ginevra remained suspicious and it was surely written all over her face, just as he had said because he reassured her. "Do not worry, Ginevra, you will like this and I am sure you have not seen it before. It is a new addition to the Selwyn collection."
Ginevra sighed, but obliged him and took a seat on the small sofa by the doorway as he disappeared. She wondered what it could possibly be that would make him take her away from the ball, an opportunity for him to show their peers that they were truly courting. It wasn't until she had been sitting there for what felt like a good five minutes that she decided to follow him into the darkened corridor, which was lined with many portraits of previous Selwyn's and their spouses; all of which were supposedly slumbering in their frames. But, Mr. Malfoy was not in the corridor and the only other place he could be was the drawing room down the hall, where she could tell the fire had been lit as it's light flickered into the corridor and reflected off the wood panelling.
Tentatively, she made her way down to the drawing room and found that it was devoid of all light, aside from that which came from the fireplace. Ginevra jumped then as the door shut behind her, and she turned sharply to see Mr. Malfoy standing there, bold and a fire in his own eyes.
"I must be honest, Ginevra," he said softly before she could speak. "I lied." He drew her in close, his arms encircling her waist and his face coming very close to hers. Ginevra pressed against his chest hard in protest, her voice ultimately failing her, but he ignored it. Evidently, he felt confident enough to continue, knowing full well that she would have hexed him by now. "Perhaps you can tell that it was all a ruse to be alone with you?" He laughed softly at that, staring down at her through his wavy blonde tendrils.
"A-and why would you wish to be alone with me?" she whispered, already knowing how idiotic a question it was, but she had to say something, anything.
She noticed his eyes drift down to her lips momentarily before answering her. "Why does any man wish to be alone with a woman?" he asked, stepping closer to her than she had thought possible and, without warning, he grasped her waist and held her neck in one swift movement to capture her mouth in a hard kiss.
It was nothing like the soft and playful kiss he had bestowed upon her weeks ago in front of his guests. This was passionate and demanding, and Ginevra couldn't think why the hands she raised to push him away were now simply resting upon his black velvet jacket in apparent submission, nor could she think why she hadn't hexed him right on the spot. Then, suddenly he pulled back, still grasping her waist and she clenching at his lapels. Ginevra noticed a little colour had risen to his normally perfect cheeks and his heavy-lidded eyes flitted between her own quickly, as if trying to gauge her reaction, but before she could even speak, he had pulled her in again. This time she made a small noise of protest, but Mr. Malfoy only took this as an open invitation to deepen their kiss, the hand at her throat tracing a line up to her face as he gave the smallest sigh of pleasure.
How could she resist him then? Never had she ever elicited such a response from a wizard before. Oh yes, she hadn't been particularly proper at Hogwarts, she had been kissed and given kisses before, but not like this one and certainly never with Harry. Harry was far too stern in matters of the heart and romance. And so, Ginevra allowed her body to take control, unable to deny the passion that so obviously existed between them and enjoying the feeling of his thumb stroking her cheekbone, so much so that she gave a little sigh too.
"Come, Ginevra," he said suddenly, his voice near ragged with breathlessness as he left her mouth and began placing kisses along her neck and the slope of her bare shoulder. The action caused her pulse to quicken even faster than it already was, making her own breath come heavy. "Spare me this waiting," he whispered into her neck, his voice almost hesitant as he pulled her body into his now, dispensing with all etiquette. "If you had but one thought as to how desirous I am of you, you would spare me this waiting."
His voice was so inviting and Ginevra couldn't remember what they were waiting for; wouldn't it be an idea to apparate directly to Gretna Green...? That single thought brought her back to her senses in an unforgiving manner. What was she thinking? That was even too risky for her. "Mr. Malfoy, I - ."
"Draco," he muttered into her ear, his cool breath causing a pleasant shudder. "Don't insult me with formalities, Ginevra."
She hesitated, but allowed him his request. It really did seem too formal to be calling him 'Mr. Malfoy', considering what had just occurred. "Draco," she breathed deeply, preparing herself to break away from his warmth, and it took great will to do so. "That was very, very wrong."
He clasped her hand before she could move away from him completely, noticing a look of sheepishness creeping into his face. "That was many things, Ginevra," he said softly, "but it was not 'wrong'. You must admit that there is something between us, more than most."
"Your desire for me is not something more," she replied, willing herself to hold back her blushes. Ginevra was not accustomed to having such conversations. "Many men can feel lust."
He frowned at that, appearing to be deeply insulted by her words. "You offend me greatly," he said quietly, his voice hard. "Forgive the crudeness of my words, but it would be a lie if I said I did not lust for you. But, my profoundest respect and ardent love for you are the only things stopping me from attempting to seduce you."
Ginevra was stunned into silence and could only stare back at him, vaguely noting the pinkness of his lips from their fervent kiss. Such a confession... and what was she to do with it? Did she not just think to herself in that unguarded moment that they should waste no further time and simply elope? But that was only the cause of the moment, wasn't it? Ginevra realised her silence may have gone on for too long and tried to explain to him that she had not an idea of his true feelings. "Draco, I had not thought - ."
"Make no excuses, Ginevra," he murmured, though not unkindly as he brushed away a stray hair from her face. "I do not expect you to know, I only wish for you to refrain from making such assumptions of me. Strangely enough, my intentions remain pure." Ginevra bowed her head in admission, shamed even by her own short-sightedness. "Come, let us not be melancholy now, we should return to the ball and I believe you are engaged to dance with me."
Draco let her leave first, so as to avoid any unfortunate gossips; it was one thing to be alone together in the safety of a chaperone's home and in an open top carriage, but it was quite illicit to be alone in another's house, behind a closed door. Particularly at a ball, where such encounters could be the ruin of both party's reputations. Ginevra returned to the ball room and pretended to be interested in the various exotic foods piled high on the long table as she waited for him to return.
"Ginny." A voice she had not heard in a long while caused her to stiffen with anxiety. "Your aunt said you would be about here some place, though she told me not to bother as you had set your sights higher than me."
Ginevra took a deep breath and turned. "Harry," she said politely. "My aunt has a way with her words, as ever."
Harry smiled at her and she noted that he had hardly changed at all since she had seen him last, which may have been more than a year ago now. He still had that messy black hair, cut short enough to keep out of his bottle-green eyes, but not too short to reveal his lightning-shaped scar or to be seen as unfashionable. His travels had given him a little coarseness to his skin, but it suited him well. And yet, he still had that awkwardness about him. "I have come to be accustomed to your aunt's bluntness," he said with humour. "But, I had come to seek you for the first two dances, if you would oblige me?"
Here, Ginevra faltered. "You want to dance?" she asked, disbelieving him. "You hate to dance."
Harry looked down momentarily, apparently embarrassed by his next choice of words. "I shouldn't hate to dance when you look so lovely this evening, Ginny," he said quietly, averting his eyes.
Ginevra stared at him with her mouth open. "Harry, what are you doing here?" She knew that wasn't an answer, but she needed to know why he had suddenly decided to enter London when he had expressed such hatred for it and the season in the past.
"I missed you all," he replied with ease. "And I thought I should visit my godson. Travelling has been interesting, but the adventure isn't quite the same without Ron and Hermione..." Harry looked at her with wide eyes, realising what he had said; excluding her again.
"It is fine, do not apologise, Harry," she said, holding her hand up to stop him when she noticed he was about to speak. "I have long since realised that I was not ever going to be a part of your adventures. And, I cannot dance with you."
Harry had the decency to hide his surprise somewhat. "You cannot dance these two with me? Or at all?"
"At all," she replied, genuinely apologetic. It would have been good to speak with him again and find out what he had been doing on his travels, but she needed to get the awkward explanations out of the way before Draco rejoined her. "I... I am engaged for all dances this evening."
"Is that not improper?" he asked, taken aback.
Ginevra smiled at him, finding it funny that he should be speaking of propriety when he was most likely only second to her brothers when it came to bluntness and lack of social etiquette. "Not when you are engaged by the man who is formally courting you," she said frankly, showing him the bracelet at her wrist.
Harry stared at it and back at her a few times. "'M'?" he asked suspiciously. "I thought you did not come here to be courted?"
"I didn't," she explained. "It just happened naturally, as these things are wont to do."
Harry seemed to consider this for a moment before asking who 'M' was with some hesitancy.
"I am surprised my aunt could not resist telling you, and I am most surprised at you having managed to make your way to this end of the ball room without hearing about it," she said with a sigh, if he had heard, it would have saved her much trouble and red faces.
"You know I do not listen to gossip," he said simply.
Ginevra regarded Harry for a moment, wondering if his true intentions were what he had said for returning, or if he had hoped he could rekindle their relationship. "It is Draco Malfoy."
"What?" he said loudly. "Malfoy? Has all this," he gestured to their surroundings, "gone to your head? Are you so desperate to get a sponsor at St. Mungo's? I said I could help with that, if only you would let -."
Ginevra crossed her arms, sure that anger was written across her face. "How dare you?" she said through gritted teeth, certain that she should have struck him were there not so many people around. "How dare you come back here and think that you can accuse me so undeservedly and so wrongly? You have no business -."
"Potter, welcome home." Draco had returned at a rather unfortunate moment, but she felt glad of his presence beside her. "Will you join us for some refreshments?"
"Harry was just leaving," Ginevra interjected, glaring at Harry as he stared back in disbelief and then seeing the look of realisation flooding his face for the second time. "Don't apologise, I don't want to hear it."
"Does Ron know? Do your parents know?" he asked instead, stopping himself from uttering an apology.
"No, not as yet," she said coldly. "And it is not their business until I see that it is. Good evening, Harry." With that, she brushed past him and stalked away, needing to calm herself down. How dare he accuse her of such low cunning, of such superficial designs? Did he believe she would wait for him until he was ready to return? Did he ever really know her at all? It seemed not, but she felt relieved to know this. It made everything so much easier.
"Ginevra, wait!" Draco caught her hand to stop her progress through the crowd, much of whom were too distracted by the evening's entertainment to notice anything untoward happening around them. "What did Potter want?"
"To dance," she answered shortly, barely able to look at Draco through her rage. "To insult me, to make ridiculous assumptions of me. Come," she said abruptly, gripping his hand and pulling him along behind her. "I want to dance."
Draco accepted this and followed without protest, possibly deciding against questioning her further about Harry, of whom she could hear whispers of now from amongst the crowd. Of course, Harry being there would stir up much excitement; he was, after all, the most eligible bachelor in wizarding Britain. Thankfully the first dance of the ball would be a Polka, one of her favourites because of the exuberance it required, that and it would help assuage her anger at Harry.
"You seem frustrated, Ginevra," Draco said as they took their place in the dance.
"Then dance better than you ever have before," she whispered fiercely. "After this dance, he will never question my intentions again."
Draco smiled down at her as they faced each other and bowed customarily. "You are quite something to behold when you are in anger, Ginevra," he murmured to her, their eyes never leaving each others as he placed his hand at her back and she lay hers on his shoulder, their free hands meeting just as the music began. Both circled and stepped slowly in time to the music, their gaze still not breaking as they skipped side-by-side. Ginevra's anger at Harry began to drift away, quicker than she had anticipated, as the dance progressed faster and they finally faced each other again. She smiled as she started to feel the fun she was supposed to be having and relaxed further into Draco's arms.
Draco moved elegantly with her in perfect time to the music, the firm feel of his hand at her back suggesting that he would not lead her wrong. The passion she had felt back in Lady Selwyn's drawing room came back by degrees and she was certain Draco was experiencing it at the same time, by the way his eyes lit up with that fire she had seen earlier, how could he not be? Ginevra became very aware of her beating heart then and she knew it's racing was not being caused by the exertion; it was then that she knew she belonged to him, her heart was his to do as he pleased, her body was his to guide, and her lips... well, her lips were his to capture with his own.
The thoughts and feelings became so overwhelming that she thought her heart would be fit to burst from her as he spun her about him with ease, his feet so well trained to the music, and her breath catching in her throat as he pulled her back to him a little closer than was allowed.
"You mustn't!" she whispered fearfully, her eyes wide, but he only smiled down at her, perfectly at ease as he stepped back to the required stance in one fluid movement. He made it seem so natural. It was then that she realised the crowds around the edges of the dance were focused on the pair of them, and she found it unnerving to the point of distraction, especially as she glimpsed Harry staring dumbfounded at the front of the sidelines.
"Don't look at him, or any of them, Ginevra," Draco muttered, drawing her gaze back to him as he picked her up by her waist momentarily in his strong grip. "They are nothing at all..." he said softly as he placed her back down to resume their rhythmic step.
But then the dance ended and polite applause erupted from the standing crowd. Draco's warmth disappeared from her as they parted to stand side-by-side and bow to those watching, but his hand was back in hers just as quickly as it had left as he led her away from the floor.
"Was that sufficient, Ginevra?" he asked with a touch of sarcasm, his breath a touch heavy from the exertion.
Sufficient? she had thought to herself. No words could describe their dance befittingly enough. "I have never been danced with so well as that," she replied truthfully. "'Sufficient' does not do it justice."
"I am glad to hear it," he said in a low voice. "I followed your wishes well, so what favour do I get in return, sweet Ginevra?"
She turned away from him to hide her sudden smile, passing it off as though in mock thought. Ginevra was limited in gifts to give him, but she had the perfect one and she looked at him over her shoulder with her eyes lowered. "Perhaps another kiss will do," she whispered.
A/N: Truly, I am working on the Rise and the Fall, but I need to get this story out of my system and the ideas simply keep flowing! I just can't resist the fluffiness. Once again, thank you for all your reviews, I do hope you have enjoyed this chapter as much as I have in writing it.