Frustrated, Ginny slammed the cover of another dusty tome. Hours of searching through even the oldest books and manuscripts in the Malfoy library had yielded absolutely nothing about this so-called Sang Primoris. She had even returned to the crumbling vellum with a book on ancient runes, hoping to discover more by translating additional sections of the manuscript, but she quickly decided that Lucius's careful work was more than she could ever hope to accomplish. With a sigh, she lifted the latest heavy volume back onto the shelf and wiped her grimy hands on her skirt. A loud pop made her jump.
"Mistress Malfoy requires the presence of Miss immediately."
Crap. Narcissa Malfoy was probably going to ask about Squiggleberry or whatever the damned etiquette lady's name was, and between Malfoy's interruption and her quest to find a way out of the spell that would ruin her life and probably those of everyone else in the entire world, Ginny hadn't cracked the manners book. She groaned inwardly and followed the House Elf through another maze of corridors to Narcissa's parlor.
"Ah! Miss Weasley! Your things from Madame Tallieur have arrived. Come."
Relieved that she had a little bit longer to gain knowledge of Squiggle-what's-her-name, Ginny followed Narcissa as she led the way through the manor. She wondered again why three people needed such a monstrosity of a house. Maybe they all shared a secret passion for tromping down long hallways.
The House Elf opened the door to Ginny's room and bowed low as the two women entered. Narcissa walked over to the closet and led the girl inside. The dressing room had been magically enlarged to twice its original size and was now considerably larger than her entire bedroom back at The Burrow. Beautiful clothes hung in neat lines and doors of paneled mahogany revealed shoes, handbags, belts, and scarves.
"There, my dear. Now you are outfitted according to your station. What do you think?"
Ginny touched a velvet black gown with a tentative finger.
"I…this…I…er, thank you."
The clothes were beautiful, but looking at them made her feel rather sick. These pretty things were the result of oppression and injustice, and wearing them would be more of the same.
"I suppose we need to continue working on your ability to form complete sentences. How were your studies today, Miss Weasley?"
Ginny blinked and scrambled for a way to distract the older woman.
"They were, er, informative. I apologize. I truly am very grateful. May I try some of these on?"
"Yes, of course." Narcissa's eyes gleamed as she selected a little black dress from an array of sumptuous looking gowns. She handed it to Ginny and turned to another cabinet, from which she selected a few choice undergarments. Ginny gulped as she glanced over the woman's shoulder at the lacy, silky garments the chest contained. Who in their right mind would need such elaborate underwear? She checked herself. She was in Malfoy Manor. No one here was in a right mind.
Narcissa turned her attention to a wall of shoes, where she spent a few moments choosing a few pairs of black heels before turning to the dress. Studying the combinations carefully, she said,
"I will be selecting your wardrobe on a daily basis until you have been appropriately trained in matters of style. I can hardly expect you to understand the intricacies of coordinating a pair of shoes with a dress and accessorizing, matters which can take months or even years to master."
Ginny was affronted. Of course, her idea of dressing up before had involved basic dress robes and shoes with a heel, but the idea that someone else would be picking out her clothes for her made her feel like she was two. For that matter, when she was two her mum had her hands so full with all of the boys that Ginny was choosing her own clothes as soon as she could dress herself.
Apparently, Narcissa Malfoy did not even think she was capable of even dressing herself, because before Ginny could find words to tell her that she did not enjoy the prospect of becoming a doll, the House Elf was helping her out of her clothes and into the ones Narcissa had selected. Ginny blushed as the small creature helped her out of her bra and into a silky black one with Narcissa standing imperiously before her.
"There, my dear. Now you look like a Malfoy. I trust that you will soon learn to act like one as well?"
Ginny stared at her reflection. She did not look like a Malfoy, but she didn't look much like a Weasley, either. Her cheeks were still aflame with embarrassment and her resolve was melting like ice cream in the sun, but the dress was undeniably lovely. It clung in all of the right places and none of the wrong ones, and the neckline was the perfect shape to highlight her features. It was even comfortable. Ginny felt sick.
"Miss Weasley, I asked you a direct question. It is ill-advised to ignore questions from your betters."
Ginny could see Narcissa's reflection in the mirror and she turned slowly to face her.
"I'm sorry. I didn't hear the question."
"Now that you look like a Malfoy, will you start learning to act like one?"
Ginny's mind screamed at her to tell the witch exactly what she thought of these clothes, these rules, and this awful family. She wanted out of this little black dress that symbolized her permanent captivity and the deaths of thousands of others, and she wanted the entire closet shredded. She wanted to fly at the woman, tear at her perfect chignon and scratch out her eyes. Her mind screamed, but her lips were quiet.
"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy. I will."
"Excellent. I'll be in tomorrow morning to collect you for a fitting for your wedding gown."
As soon as Narcissa's retreating back disappeared, Ginny flew at the dress, tugging it up and over her head. The pretty garment twisted and clung to her skin and refused to unzip. Ginny screamed and tore at the back of the dress, but it wouldn't budge. She turned back to her reflection and pounded her fist against the glass, sinking to the floor. The Ginny in the mirror stared back at her, blotchy red and impeccably dressed.
She screamed in frustration once more and then sobbed, utterly weary of the whole evil game.
"I thought I told you to come to me when you were finished with my mother."
Draco Malfoy was leaning in the open door, the long light from the setting sun glowing at his feet. Ginny didn't feel like giving him the same subservience and she stood up quickly, rubbing her eyes. Draco came up to meet her and, placing his hands on her hips, turned her to face the mirror.
"You have on a very lovely dress, Miss Weasley," he whispered into her ear, once again speaking far too sweetly.
Ginny stared again at her reflection. Her face was splotched and puffy and her eyes burned. This time, instead of Narcissa evaluating coldly in the background, Draco was pressed up behind her, his hands wrapping around her hips, and his head lowered intimately toward her ear. Ginny shivered at the tableau. It was a little too real, a little too close to how a lover might look whispering in his beloved's ear, and Ginny knew he had her looking at it on purpose.
"It's a horrid dress, Malfoy. I hate it." She slid his arms off her and turned to face him.
"Well, that is a problem, isn't it?" he said, and for half a moment Ginny believed he was genuinely concerned. "I suppose the best solution would be to take the damn thing off, hm?"
He spun her around again and before Ginny could comprehend the meaning of his words, the zipper that had been so unyielding thirty minutes ago was undone. Malfoy ran a finger up her exposed spine, pausing for a moment at the clasp of her bra. With a shriek, Ginny spun away from him and attempted to clutch the fabric back together behind her back.
"How dare you!"
"How dare I? We have been over this, little Weasley. You belong to me."
Malfoy's voice was almost playful, but Ginny caught the dark edge. He walked toward her and she stepped back until she felt the cool glass of the mirror at her back. She turned quickly and dodged him; Malfoy had an affinity for getting her up against a wall and she was not about to let him do it again. She didn't need the smell of his cologne haunting her thoughts any more than necessary.
"I might belong to you according to your sick Death Eater rules, but that does not mean I'm going to stand idly by as you undress me!"
"Oh? So you're going to walk about the room instead? That makes my part much more difficult, you realize."
Ginny scowled at him.
"Yes, I realize." She had managed to find the zipper's end and was awkwardly tugging it up as she walked backward keeping both eyes on Malfoy, a difficult operation in the heels she was wearing.
"You realize that I have a wand and I'm much bigger than you, don't you?" Draco smiled, clearly amused at her blundering attempt to keep out of his reach.
"Yes, I realize that too." Ginny snapped. She continued to struggle with the zipper and took another step backward.
"And someone who is smart enough to realize all of that must realize that she's about to run into her bed?"
As he said it, Ginny stepped back, unaware of the bed behind her, and her knees gave way. She tried to stand up, but her stupid shoes slid against the floor, and she fell backward onto the bed. It took two more seconds for Draco to casually lift himself up to straddle her stomach.
"My, this is familiar. You run from me, and I end up on top of you. Either you secretly like me here, or you just don't learn. Perhaps a combination of both?"
It was a little too familiar, and while Ginny couldn't listen to her mind when it came to tearing out Narcissa's eyes, she had no problem gouging out Draco's. With an angry shriek she flew up at him and pushed with all of her might. Draco grabbed onto Ginny's arm, but the balance was already tipped and he fell off the bed, pulling Ginny along. She grabbed at the coverlet, but the cloth was satin, and she landed on top of him, her face in his chest.
"Well, Weasley. If you wanted to be on top all you had to do was ask."
Furious, Ginny tried to extricate herself from the blanket and Malfoy, but he wrapped his arms around her, keeping her body pressed against his, and Ginny paused. Malfoy had kissed her more than once now, and even gone a bit beyond that, but this position, with his strong arms wrapped around her, was a different kind of trap than being pushed against a wall or trapped on a bed. For a moment, it felt strangely good. But just for a moment.
"Malfoy, you bastard, let me go."
Any hint of playfulness went out of the blond man's eyes and in one smooth motion, he flipped them over so that she was beneath him.
"What have I said about being disrespectful?" He spoke slowly, punctuating each words with ice. "Answer me."
Ginny had half a mind to spit in his face, but a look at Malfoy's dark eyes squelched it. Tangled as they were in the blanket, she could feel the warmth of his body pressed up into hers, and yet his eyes looked like they could freeze hell.
"Answer me, Ginevra."
Ginny was so startled at his use of her given name that she obeyed.
"You told me to respect you."
"And yet you aren't."
"Maybe you aren't as good of a teacher as you think." Ginny bit her tongue. Probably not the wisest remark to say while trapped underneath Draco Malfoy.
He stared at her, his eyes inches from her own.
"In just a few short weeks, I'm going to own you. Inside and out. No one but me will have any say in what you do or what is done to you. Not even you." He ran a cool hand lightly across her face and then grabbed it so that she couldn't look away. "I have been very explicit in my warnings, but you still don't seem to understand the gravity of your situation. I suggest that you think about it, Ginevra. Think about what it will be like to be totally and completely owned."
His silver eyes stared hard into her amber ones, and Ginny wasn't sure whether to scream or cry or yell. She was scared, deeply scared, and she was absolutely sure that Draco knew.
Slowly, Draco closed the distance between them and touched his lips gently to hers. He slid an arm under her back, pulling her even closer, and gently parted her lips with his tongue. His other hand was still holding her head, and he ran his thumb along the smooth skin on her cheek. He broke the kiss slowly and Ginny stared up at him, wide eyed.
"I think we're going to try a different tack, little Weasley. I can be a very good teacher. Lesson one."
He lowered his face to hers and kissed her again, just as gently.
"Kiss me back, Weasley," he murmured.
Tentatively, Ginny obeyed.
"Good girl. Now let me in."
Ginny was torn, but again she obeyed. Draco continued the kiss, slowly and softly exploring her mouth.
Ginny was confused. The man was either moody or a brilliant manipulator, and even though Ginny recognized it was probably the latter, she couldn't help melting into him.
"Your turn," he whispered to her wide eyes, "kiss me back."
Ginny squirmed uncomfortably underneath him, but Malfoy met her again and she slowly slipped her tongue into his mouth. It tasted sweet.
"Good girl. Again."
She obeyed, cursing herself. It was probably better to obey than argue at this point anyway. He would be married to her and have the power he described soon enough, and then there was Hermione to think about. Making an even bigger enemy of him wouldn't be very clever, would it?
Draco took one of her hands and placed it around his own head.
"There. Now, again."
Draco didn't lower his head back to Ginny's, and she watched him, waiting, her hand trembling on his neck.
"You're holding my head for a reason, Ginevra," he gave her a small smirk, "be a smart girl. Kiss me."
Ginny swallowed and pulled Draco's head toward hers. This time he made her part his lips, and she tentatively explored again. Draco finished the kiss leisurely and looked down at her again, his eyes dark with something far from anger this time.
"So what do you think of my skills as a teacher now, little witch?" He smiled smugly at her speechless expression. "Have you finally learned one of my lessons?" Ginny bit her lip and nodded. It wasn't as if this was a terribly bad one to learn, she countered in her mind. Her self-respect was still intact. Draco opened his mouth and hesitated for a moment.
"I'll send in an Elf to help you prepare for bed. Goodnight, little Weasley."
Draco disentangled himself from the blanket and left the room. Ginny sighed and sat up. What in hell had just happened?
Narcissa sighed for a completely different reason, her head against Lucius's bare shoulder. Contrary to popular belief, she hadn't married him for mere blood and money. When it came to the bedroom, her husband was a god, and Narcissa enjoyed her worship thoroughly. Lucius ran a slow finger through her blonde locks, then gasped.
"Lucius? What is it?"
"The Dark Lord. I swear it, when this thing is over, these foul marks will be the first to go. I'm sorry my love."
"No, darling. Go. If he's meeting you this late it means he'll be alone. This could be important for your plan."
Lucius got out of bed and dressed quickly, Apparating to the Dark Lord's domain. Voldemort sat on his throne, clutching at the armrests as if merely remaining upright was tiresome. His skin sagged, hanging like crumpled paper from his cheekbones, and Lucius controlled his grimace.
"My lord, you summoned me?"
"Yes, Lucius, my most faithful of followers. Bella informs me that the nuptials for your son are to take place in a month's time?"
"All according to plan, my lord. The spell will be performed that very night. Narcissa is arranging everything."
"Very good. However, I feel that given my current condition, it would behoove us all to speed things up. I'm certain Narcissa is capable of arranging things to occur in, oh, a week from now?"
Lucius's eyes gleamed.
"Yes, my lord. If it is your will, I can begin orchestrating a change of dates immediately."
"It is my will. See that it is done. Now, leave me. I must rest."
Lucius Apparated back to his study. Without even taking a moment to whisk away his heavy cloak, he grabbed a scrap of parchment and dashed off a quick note.
"Elf!" he called, carefully wrapping the paper around the leg of his great black owl. He sent the majestic bird out the window as a House Elf popped into the room.
"Bring me Draco."
"You had better just go home, Pans. I'm not in the mood."
Pansy Parkinson was not in the mood for a moody Malfoy.
"Come on, Draco. You're always in the mood," she said in her sultriest voice, curving her spine advantageously and drawing her fingernails along his arm. "Why else would you call? Surely you don't want to talk." She laughed, hoping Draco didn't notice the tinge of bitterness beneath her giggle.
Draco eyed Pansy's voluptuous curves with disinterest. After being wrapped up with Ginevra Weasley for a good half hour, Pansy had sounded like a good idea. Normally her presence was numbing but tonight…tonight she reminded him of something painful, and he wasn't sure what it was.
Slowly, Pansy began to unbutton her top. She straddled Draco's lap and flicked open a button, but Draco just watched with a frown. Frustrated, Pansy opened the rest of her shirt, but he merely looked on, disinterested. Pansy knew that Draco used her, but she used him too, and in Pansy's world that was fine. She understood silent Draco well enough—he just needed a good shag—but silent, brooding Draco was a different animal altogether.
"Is this about the marriage? I can't imagine you being actually married to someone, especially that awful blood betraying Weasley. I mean, she looks all right, but seriously…"
"It's not Weasley. I don't know what it is, Pans. I'm just not in the mood anymore. Go already. Please."
It was the please that did it. Pansy bit her lip and pulled her shirt back on, then Disapparated with a loud crack.
Draco stood and poured himself a glass of brandy. He took a sip and toyed with the idea of summoning Daphne. She hadn't come crawling yet and calling her was a bit of a gamble, especially when he wasn't sure that she'd satisfy whatever was going on in his head. What in hell was wrong with him?
He heard the timid knock of a House Elf from the bedroom door and rolled his eyes. He was not in the mood to be summoned by his father. Shagging Pansy would have been better.
Morning for Ginny brought not only the House Elf to her bedside, but also Narcissa Malfoy.
"Hurry up, Miss Weasley! We have an appointment to maintain."
Ginny groaned and rubbed her eyes. Her dreams had been full of two very different but identical tall blond men, one who kissed her softly and another who held her prisoner against her will, and she felt exhausted despite hours of sleep.
The House Elf dressed her in an outfit of Narcissa's choosing, and the two women used the Floo to return to France.
"Ah, Madame Malfoy and Mademoiselle! Such a pleasure to see you again. I find you are wearing an outfit of my design! I trust everything in the order was satisfactory?"
"Yes," Narcissa answered, "but we are here for the wedding gown. We agreed upon fitting it today, did we not?"
"Ah, oui. If you will please give me the permission to fetch my mother?"
"Of course."
As quickly as she left, Madame Tailleur was back, and with her a familiar looking little old woman. Ginny stared openly. Without a doubt, this lady was one and the same as her helper from a few weeks ago.
"Miss Weasley, this is Madame Tailleur. She speaks no English, but she will be designing your gown. I know you haven't mastered the French language by any stretch of the imagination, but you probably haven't mastered the latest in bridal styles either, so you really don't need to have a voice in the matter."
Ginny could feel her anger rising, but Narcissa and the younger Madame had already begun to speak in rapid French. The older Madame, however, slowly walked toward Ginny. She gestured for Ginny to come down from her step and took Ginny's hand in both of hers, squeezing it lately. She smiled sadly up at Ginny.
"Avez-vous perdu votre baguette magique encore?" Ginny bit her lip.
"I don't understand."
"Ou avez-vous perdu votre coeur?" Ginny glanced furtively at Narcissa, who was still ignoring her, and then looked pleadingly at old Madame Tailleur.
"Help me," she pleaded. "I know you can't really understand me, but please. If I marry him…I won't be the only one in trouble."
The old lady squeezed her hand and turned to her daughter and Narcissa.
"Commencement!"she cried, and the two ladies stared at her. She began to speak in quick French, gesturing madly with her wand. Bolts of silk, satin, lace, and tulle began to flit around the room, ribbons fluttered and beads bounced, surrounding Ginny with fabric and glitter.
"Fin!" cried the woman, and Ginny turned to the mirror. The dress was perfect. It was a gorgeous white ballgown, but what Ginny loved was its delicacy. There were none of the hard cold lines of haute fashion here, but instead old-fashioned lace and delicate, barely-there beading. The dress looked like a fairy had made it, and part of Ginny wondered if one had.
"Well," said the younger Tailleur, "you see she hasn't lost her touch."
"Hardly." Narcissa was close to speechless, a fact that Ginny would have found more amusing if she wasn't speechless herself. In truth, her heart was broken. To feel this stunningly beautiful for a fake marriage to an evil villain ripped something apart in Ginny, and for the first time the fear that she felt about the upcoming marriage found a partner in an achingly deep sadness.
The little woman approached Ginny again and smoothed the delicate fabric with an aged, stiff hand. She gave Ginny a feeble grin and winked, or at least it appeared that way through Ginny's teary vision.
"Very well. We'll take it now. I need it by the end of the week, and as much as I love your work, Madame, this dress is a piece of art and needs nothing else."
"By the end of the week?" asked Ginny in a strangled voice.
"Did no one tell you? The wedding has been moved forward." She turned to Madame Tailleur. "You see why I'm such a busy woman! Of course, if anyone can manage planning a wedding in six short days, it will be me."
Ginny didn't hear the dressmaker's reply above the roaring in her ears. Only six damned days to figure out a way out of this mess. What in hell…
A/N: I have studied very little French (not much at all beyond my ballet). If my translations are horrible, please correct them.
1) Have you lost your wand again?
2) Or have you lost your heart?
3) Beginning!
4) Ending.
Yes, I know I took a break! You can't get too mad though—it's still less than three weeks and I was so terribly good about the first nine chapters. I gave you an my longest chapter to date, nearly four whole pages of d/g goodness, AND avoided a cliff, just because I love you.
This chapter is dedicated to Rowan-Greenleaf, who not only is an amazing writer, but also an amazing reviewer. If you like Red Ember, you owe her a thank you because if it wasn't for her persistent pestering, you wouldn't be reading this right now!
So review! I love reviewers, both faithful followers and new ones, and you better believe that I will respond personally! If you liked it, please give me some details! I live for the detailed reviews...(Why Aerileigh Loves Reviews, Volume 1)