(A/N: I LOVE ALL OF MY REVIEWERS! Your suggestions and comments have really helped me. I want to give each of you a hug…or twenty dollars, or something! I haven't decided about including the rated M scene. If I do use it, it will be way later in the story, and I'll let you all know where it is if you want to skip it. Or, maybe I can just keep that certain scene in the back of my little perverted mind. Hahaha! Anyway, in this chapter, I tried to include more scenes with Tom and Ginny interaction…I really hope that you like it!)

Chapter VII
The Heiress

The ring was huge. The enormous emerald-cut diamond weighed down Ginny's tiny hand. She had never owned something so extravagant. It was 27 carats set in platinum; the most expensive in the wizarding world. Tom made sure she knew this when he presented it to her. Only the best for his Ginevra.

She would soon be Lady Voldemort, and she was constantly reminded of this more than twenty times a day by whoever visited her. Today that person was Narcissa Malfoy. She found it to be quite annoying, to say the least. Narcissa had been visiting the manor nearly every day to help plan the wedding. She helped create the guest list, choose décor, and accompanied Ginny to all of her dress fittings. This was particularly difficult for the seamstress, due to Ginny's growing stomach.

Ginny wasn't bothered by Narcissa's company too much; it was much more tolerable than her 'darling Draco.' Ginny wasn't pleased when she learned that he would be attending the wedding. It was expected though, because his mother had sent out the invitations.


It was the day before the wedding, and Ginny was getting the final alterations done on her dress. The seamstress was working on the lacey hem of the gown, while Narcissa was helping Ginny choose from the assortment of opulent jewelry Tom had bought her.

"Stop fidgeting, Ginevra! I'm going to stick you with a needle," the seamstress said huffily.

Ginny stopped, and attempted to stand still again. She had succeeded until her thoughts drifted back to the wedding. In less than twenty-four hours, I'll be married to the devil…

"You'll look so lovely tomorrow," Narcissa said, brushing a stray curl of hair from Ginny's eyes.

Ginny turned to look in the full-length mirror on the wall. The dress was adorned with pearl and crystal accents on a lacey sweetheart neckline. The skirt was full, and partly covered her five-month pregnant stomach. It was nothing less than exquisite, and it exhibited Tom's immeasurable wealth. Ginny's breath hitched in her throat.

"What's wrong?" Narcissa asked, concern filled her Malfoy-grey eyes.

Ginny closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. "I don't know…I guess I'm just nervous…"

"Don't be. The Dark Lord has everything taken care of. You have nothing to worry about," she said, stroking Ginny's hair.

"800 invitations have been sent out. All of Tom's most trusted Death Eaters will be there along with their families," Ginny said, turning from the mirror. "I-I just wish my own family would be there, just like I always imagined on my wedding day.

Ginny released a dispirited sigh, and stared down at her stomach, which was barely noticeable through the layers of silk and lace. I guess you are the only family I have now.

Suddenly, a sharp knock came to the door, and Tom's voice sounded from the other side. "Ginevra, open the door."

"No!" The seamstress screamed. "She is in her wedding dress, my Lord! It is bad luck!"

Ginny heard a faint growl, and then heard Tom speak again. "I don't give a damn about—fine." Ginny suppressed a laugh; she knew he didn't believe in 'luck,' and she could tell that he was beginning to get annoyed by the tone of his voice. "Just tell her to be ready for dinner in ten minutes," he said before walking off down the corridor.


Ginny walked into the dining room, expecting it to be full of wedding guests, but was surprised to find it empty. Except for Tom. He was sitting alone at the head of the long, polished mahogany table.

"You're late," he said mockingly, glancing at the antique grandfather clock on the opposite wall.

Ginny turned to check the time. "I'm only late by two minutes! Honestly, Tom, how am I going to endure the rest of my life with you?" She said bitterly. Tom smirked at her impudence, and watched her as she sat down at the opposite end of the table.

"Come sit over here," he said motioning to the chair on his right. "You're too far away."

Ginny released a dramatic sigh and walked over to Tom. He stood up and pulled out the chair for her, wearing his most charming smirk. Ginny blushed. She loved it when he acted this way—even if he was just pretending.

"I have something fun planned for tonight," Tom purred, gazing at Ginny suggestively.

"What? Torturing muggles or capturing more Order members?" Ginny said flatly, not meeting Tom's eyes.

"Not tonight, no. I was thinking that we should…practice…for our wedding night tomorrow," he said, gauging her reaction at his words.

"No bachelor party then?" She asked, unable to hide her sneer. "How boring."

Tom let out a low laugh. "My days as a bachelor were boring until you came along," he said, taking her hand in his. Ginny blushed again, silently cursing her pale skin.

"Dinner is served, sir," a house elf squeaked, heaving a heavy serving platter onto the table. Tom quietly withdrew his hand from Ginny, who released a gasp of air she didn't realize she was holding. What is wrong with me tonight? It must be hormones…

"What are we having?" Ginny asked, staring at the large, covered platter sitting between them.

"Fricassée de champignons," Tom said smoothly, lifting the lid.

Ginny was overwhelmed with the scent of sautéed mushrooms as it wafted through the air. "Mushrooms?"

"Yes, mushrooms. You said you liked this the last time we had it," Tom said, beginning to spoon the steaming contents onto Ginny's plate.

"Well, I'm not in the mood for mushrooms now," Ginny said sourly. "I want ice cream."

"You want ice cream for dinner?" Tom asked, warily. Ginny nodded, pouting her lips at the mushrooms on her plate. Tom inhaled deeply. "Damn your pregnancy cravings."

"It's not for me, Tom, it's what the baby wants," Ginny said, gently patting her rounded stomach with a small giggle. She knew that she was acting childish, but she didn't care; she had never liked 'fricassée de champignons'…or whatever it was called.

Tom summoned the house elf back, who returned quickly with a large bowl of vanilla ice cream. Ginny raised the spoon to her mouth and sighed.

"Is something wrong?" Tom asked, attempting to hide his growing annoyance.

Ginny sighed again. "No…it's just that I wanted sprinkles. I always had sprinkles on my ice cream at the Burrow…"

The house elf was promptly summoned again into the room, with a small dish of chocolate sprinkles. Ginny let out a small whimper.

"What now?" Tom asked. His exasperation clear in his voice now.

"I wanted rainbow sprinkles," Ginny whined.

"They taste the same as chocolate sprinkles!" Tom said, angry with her impertinence.

"No they don't, Tom! Why are you being so horrible to me?" Ginny said, crossing her arms over her stomach.

"I gave you your bloody ice cream—what more do you want?" Tom yelled, suppressing the urge to hex her.

"This is all your fault!" Ginny screeched, ignoring his question.

"What is my fault? I am not responsible for your insolence!" Tom yelled louder, standing up from his chair.

"You are the reason that I'm pregnant!" Ginny said, standing up. "You are the reason I need rainbow sprinkles, and you don't even care! You have no idea what I'm going through right now!"

Tom shook his head. I can't be too angry with her now…it must be the baby that is causing her to act like this…

"Ginny…" he said softly, taking cautious steps over to her hysterical form.

"Tom, I really don't want—oh!" Her words were cut off as she clutched her stomach.

"What is it? Are you hurt?" He asked urgently, taking her in his arms.

Ginny's eyes slowly filled with tears, and her breathing steadied and slowed. "The baby's kicking," she said quietly. Ginny felt a faint fluttering sensation from inside her belly; the feeling was unreal. Tom's expression softened as he gently laid a hand on her stomach. They stood there a while, just feeling the slight movements of their unborn daughter, and all worries and apprehension about the next day disappeared for a moment.