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.

Summary: Draco finally listens to a little bit of his father's advice and slowly realises that maybe Ginny could at least be liking him.

THE RISE AND THE FALL

Chapter Ten: The Encounter

Draco checked himself in the wall of mirrors, adjusting the collar of his shirt before brushing the front of his hair casually with his hand. He was almost there, he could feel it; it was only a matter of time until Ginevra would submit to him. As much as she tried to remain detached, her true feelings were so easy to see. Reading Ginevra was like reading a children's book, so simple to understand. Yet she was still conflicted; her actions might be construed as resistance, but the glint in her eyes told him she was so desperate to give in. All he had to do was look at her and her eyes would begin to plead.

But Draco wanted her to initiate it, he wasn't ever going to give her the opportunity to say he forced her or took advantage of her. And he silently hoped he wouldn't have to resort to using that potion, what kind of triumph could he gain from that? With the way things were going for the past couple of weeks, he wouldn't have to use the potion since Ginevra wasn't even protesting to his touches instead her cheeks would go pink in place of resistance.

He sighed then, turning his back on the mirrors and checking his watch. Just in time, he thought, as he watched her walk through the glass doors of the expansive ballroom, her extravagant ballgown fluttering as she came toward him. "You were almost late," he chided.

Draco nearly laughed as she wrinkled her nose in displeasure, but as usual she didn't say any rude remark. "But I wasn't, and that is what matters," she said sweetly, smiling up at him. "And this dress took so long to put on. Why did you want me to wear this anyway?"

It was rather opulent just for the two of them, but it was going to serve a purpose. "I'm going to teach you to dance," he answered innocently.

Ginevra blinked, almost as if she had not understood what he said. "I already know how to dance," she pointed out. "I have been to parties before."

Draco shook his head, chuckling as he pulled her further into the ballroom. "Not that sort of dancing," he replied in humour. "I am speaking of the classics."

"But, why?" she asked, bemused.

"Well, why not?" he answered, picking up a record and placing it in the large gramophone resting on the piano. "There is nothing better to do with our time." Draco could tell, irritatingly, that she was reluctant, she seemed to be reluctant toward everything he suggested. "Come, no one is here to mock you, Ginevra? Or would you rather sing for me?"

Ginevra immediately baulked at this idea, becoming quite enthusiastic suddenly about the dancing. "What dance will I be doing?"

He smiled down at her. "You're not dancing on your own," he said quietly. "You're going to be dancing with me."

"With you?" she asked, wide-eyed, realising now what he meant about the 'classics'. "But I can't dance like that!"

"That is why I am going to teach you," he said, exasperated. "Just calm down, there is no need to get so worked up, it is just me and you, no need for a heart attack."

"I am not having a heart attack!" she replied defensively.

"Then you're afraid," he said smugly.

Ginevra huffed then, determination settling in her eyes. "I've survived a war, Draco, a silly dance does not frighten me in the slightest," her voice was calm now as she spoke, obviously not wanting to show any cowardice.

"Good then, we will start with a simple waltz," Draco began and he reached to hold her just above her waist and take her right hand, but she stared blankly at him. "Put your left hand on my shoulder," he urged, "you don't just stand there looking like a fish."

"Like this?" she managed to say as all her conflicting emotions played out vividly across her face, most likely trying to repress a few choice insults, but she did as he directed.

"That's it," he said in amusement at her conflict. "Now, just follow me -."

"What about the music?" she said abruptly.

"Not yet, Ginevra," he replied in his most patient voice. "And don't interrupt me again, otherwise we will be doing etiquette lessons instead." Once Draco was sure that had sunk in, he began again. "When I move, just follow my steps, just try not to step on my feet."

Ginevra nodded and he began to move in the basic box format of the waltz for a few minutes until he was sure she had got the gist of it, then he let her know he was going to move differently. "Just follow," he urged, "you are doing well." Draco had to commend her; she wasn't as clumsy or inelegant as he thought she would be, considering her less than classy upbringing and the fact that she had never danced properly like this before. After about twenty minutes, he slowed to a stop, allowing her to get her breath back. The exertion had flushed her cheeks, making her glow attractively. He conjured a glass of water for her to drink and finished off what was left. "Are you ready for some music?"

"I suppose so," she shrugged, still a little breathless.

"You suppose so?" he repeated. "You either are or you aren't."

She frowned, but nodded at him. "I'm ready."

"When the music starts, I will bow to you, and you will curtsey to me," he explained quickly. "Do you know how to curtsey?"

"I do know some things, I have been reading those books," she said in defence once again.

"So, you will curtsey and accept my hand," he continued. "Then the dance will begin." Draco flicked his wand at the gramophone and tucked it back in to his belt hastily as the music jolted to a loud start. He bowed gracefully to her, offering his hand as she pulled off a half-decent curtsey. Once she accepted his hand, he pulled her close, closer than was really required, and led their dance.

For the whole of the dance, she looked up at him, her brown eyes staring into his grey ones and he couldn't bring himself to correct her. It didn't matter if it wasn't the proper way, what did matter was the sudden intimacy the dance held when she was gazing up at him. Draco knew it was ridiculous, he had gone over it a thousand times before, but there was no point in denying his obvious attraction to her. Stupidly, he nearly missed a step when he whirled her; the sight of her long, dark red hair flowing in the twist causing him to halt momentarily, but he saved himself just in time before she noticed anything. There was no way he was going to falter in front of her now. But then the little wench raised her eyes to meet his once more, and he had to do it. He had to kiss her.

Thankfully, the music had almost come to a stop, so he allowed himself to slow down before concentrating his attention fully on her. "That was very well done, Ginevra," he whispered gently, cupping her face to pull her in.

"So, this was all the racket? I am a dying man, Draco, have some compassion!"

Draco jumped away from Ginevra, almost as if he were guilty of something but he didn't really know what. "You are insufferable, old man! Can I not do anything in privacy?!"

"This is my house, Draco," Lucius replied, hobbling further in to the ballroom, "so, no, you can't really." Lucius smirked smugly at his own words and Draco immediately felt like beating him with his own cane, but then that would just be monstrous. "I would prefer the music to be a little quieter, I would like to die in peace."

"I was teaching Ginevra to dance," he replied through gritted teeth, "the music had to be loud."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Teaching her to dance? It didn't appear that way to me, it seemed as if you were about to teach her something else," he laughed then, unable to contain himself.

Draco looked over at Ginevra, who simply seemed to be bored, but he felt infuriated at his idiot father. How did he expect him to seduce her when he kept ruining it? "Ginevra, meet me upstairs, will you? I'll be there shortly." She nodded and left the ballroom quickly, obviously not wanting to be in his father's presence longer than was necessary. "How the fuck do you expect me to bed her with you showing up at every opportunity?!" he raged when he was sure Ginevra was out of earshot.

"Watch your language, boy!" Lucius said gruffly as he sat at the piano, sighing with relief as he sat down. Draco did wonder why Lucius bothered getting out of bed when all it caused him was pain now. "So, are you planning on holding a ball?"

"Of course, to celebrate your death," he replied sarcastically.

"You won't be short on congratulations then," Lucius retorted back. "If you were normal, you would have had many others rejoicing in my death with you."

"If I were normal, I wouldn't be rejoicing in your death to begin with," Draco said sharply. "Anyway, what do you want, father?"

"I merely wanted to see what all the noise was," his father replied in an innocent tone. "Your mother loved a ball. That's when she fell in love with me, the ball my mother held in -."

"I am sure that is an interesting story, father," Draco interrupted coldly. "And you could have sent your spying house elf to investigate the noise."

"It is an interesting story," Lucius said, ignoring his son's last comment. "You could learn a thing or two from me, boy, your mother hated me when we first met."

"That's because mother had good judgement."

"You mock me, but you are in the same situation as -."

"Ginevra does not hate me," Draco said defensively.

"But she doesn't love you either," Lucius pointed out with a smirk.

Draco sneered, turning away from his father and removing the record from the gramophone. "I don't care if she loves me or not," he bit back, "she is just a means to an end for -."

"Don't lie!" growled Lucius, cutting across Draco. "Evidently, you are attracted to her."

"I'd be blind if I wasn't!" he said incredulously, rounding on his father, who didn't move at all.

"No, you like her, Draco," Lucius emphasised his point. "Not just her appearance, but everything else as well." Draco simply stared at his father as if he had grown two heads. "I was the same with Narcissa; I just had to have her no matter how she felt about me. I just had to make her see that I was better than every one of those other men courting her."

Draco scoffed. "I don't exactly have any competition to work with," he said, exasperated by this point, vaguely wondering why his father was becoming nostalgic all of a sudden.

"Oh, but you do," Lucius replied, a small smile playing on his thin lips. "Being dead makes the competition a little bit harder."

Draco scowled as realisation dawned on him. "Potter," he spat. "You think she still loves Potter."

"Maybe not love, but she still harbours some childhood infatuation, and infatuation can be forgotten about," his father said assuredly.

Even in death, he had to compete with Potter, but he did have the upper hand in two respects. One, he was alive and two, he was already married to Ginevra. "How do I make her forget?" he asked finally in a begrudging tone. "How do I make her love me? She's not like Pansy..." Draco despised asking his father for any kind of help, but his redheaded wife was difficult. She had to be persuaded to do everything he asked, how was he ever going to persuade her to love him?

"As I have said before, absence makes the heart grow fonder," Lucius replied, leaning back against the piano. "She will grow bored on her own eventually, and don't allow her access to the house elves whilst you are not with her. This will increase her boredom. Her boredom will become so great, she will want to spend time with you."

"She will enjoy the time away from me," Draco muttered apprehensively.

"Initially, but you must be patient," his father said in a firm voice. "You should also give her something that she will appreciate; not jewellery or clothing. This Weasley girl is not one for extravagance."

"She is a Malfoy now -."

"Taking your name doesn't make her less of a Weasley, Draco," Lucius chuckled. "That's where you go wrong, you must allow her to have some of her Weasley way; she wasn't born a Malfoy."

Draco gave a curt nod, accepting his father's point. It sounded plausible enough. "And what of this article?" he asked in an offhand manner. "Has anything come of it yet?"

"No, not yet," Lucius said in seriousness. "But I don't doubt one of them will attempt a rescue."

Draco looked at Lucius for a moment, debating whether or not to voice his opinion. "I..." he hesitated, "I think you should retract the article, father; it isn't right..."

Lucius laughed heartily at his son's admission. "Right or wrong," his father shrugged, "it is too late. The damage has been done." He continued laughing right up until he got himself into a coughing fit. "I knew you cared about her," he rasped.

"I don't care," he shot back at Lucius, folding his arms, "but whatever your scheme is, it will take away from my triumph." Draco knew he was lying through his teeth; he did care about the woman and if that meant keeping her friends and family alive, then so be it. Personally, he didn't want to have to deal with her crying.

Lucius threw his son a look of pure humour, not bothering to say anything. This just made Draco angrier than he already was with his father, this time because he knew he couldn't keep anything from him. They had been close before he had been bitten; Draco had hero-worshipped his father, and he had been his father's pride and joy being his only child. "At any rate, I have matters of business to discuss with you, concerning your inheritance."

"What about it?" Draco muttered, leaning against the piano and vaguely wondering if he should teach Ginevra to play as he had promised before.

"I have made a few amendments," Lucius replied casually.

Draco's ears pricked up at that. "What amendments?"

"Trivial things, nothing of too much value," Lucius began as if he were discussing the weather. "I've given the estate in the Highlands over to the cause." Draco shrugged at this, it was too cold up there anyway for his tastes. "And I have also pledged fifty million galleons."

Draco jumped up at this. "Fifty million?! Are you insane?!" Draco shouted, unable to contain his displeasure now.

"You needn't worry, you will be adequately provided for," Lucius replied in a hard voice, obviously not admiring the tone with which Draco had just afforded him, but he ignored it all the same.

"Provided for?" Draco whispered coldly. "You would leave me destitute!"

Lucius frowned at Draco, his face darkening. "There will be two hundred million galleons remaining to you, I would hardly call that destitute, you ungrateful boy," he spat the last.

"Two hundred... I didn't realise there was so much." Draco had calmed instantly at his father's words; money wasn't everything, but it helped greatly.

"Yes, well, you forget our property investments and the land we own the Pacific, and the estate in southern France," Lucius said this all in such a way to make Draco feel ridiculous. He composed himself again, returning to the casual demeanour. "Narcissa has also left a number of heirlooms to Ginevra. It was her wish that the woman you would marry should inherit them."

"What heirlooms?" Draco asked curiously, he thought he had given Ginevra his mother's only heirloom; the tiara she had worn on her wedding day.

"Just trinkets, Draco, nothing to get jealous about. Your mother did leave you her country house in Sussex," his father pointed out.

"I am not jealous, father," he replied, exasperated. "But I did forget about the country house."

"Yes, your mother insisted on spending every summer there when you were small," Lucius remembered. "She decorated it to her own tastes, not doubt Ginevra would prefer it to the manor."

Draco nodded, silently picturing his wife in the wilder grounds of the country house with the flowers in full bloom and her dark red curls fluttering about in the soft wind. He felt absurd to be thinking about her in such a way. Ginevra was supposed to simply be a means to an end, but he had started to develop feelings for her, even after such a short time, even though she was hardly encouraging any of his feelings. There was just something in the way she looked back at him, a gleam in her brown eyes... he knew it wasn't malice, but he couldn't quite describe what it was. Draco decided he would listen to his father's advice, if only to finally win Ginevra.

Ginny was glad to get away from Lucius Malfoy, believing that at least Draco was nowhere near as evil as his father, if evil at all. She untied the sash at the back of her dress now, wanting to release herself from it since it was quite heavy, despite its beauty. Unbidden, her mind wandered back to the dance she and Draco had shared moments before. It had surprised her to find out how graceful he was, yet it made her feel nothing but clumsy despite his praises. In truth, she had enjoyed dancing, but not the inexplicable feelings that had come with it.

The entire time, she had managed to hold Draco's gaze, mostly because she refused to show any kind of submission, but she had noticed for the first time how beautiful his eyes were. They were clear grey in colour, surrounded by long lashes and heavy-lidded, but it wasn't really how they looked it was more the way they looked at her. The look was almost indescribable, but the one word she could use coherently was ardour. What the meaning behind his gazes were she did not really know.

Still, it was not only his eyes, but also the way he held her. Ginny never thought his touch could be so gentle, but there it was, and no matter how much her head was screaming 'no', her body consistently resisted and gave in with a 'yes'. The never ending internal fighting was becoming unbearable recently, but she was Ginny Weasley and he was Draco Malfoy, the son of an active Death Eater, the boy who had relentlessly bullied her brother, Hermione, Harry and countless other Gryffindors. But, was he still that boy?

Ginny huffed angrily to herself, pulling the dress off carelessly. She didn't want to think about him anymore! All she wanted to do was escape before any of his plans came to fruition. It was only a silly dance, and dances meant nothing. Going to the Yule Ball with Neville had meant nothing, they had just been friends helping each other out. But, in all honesty, she had silently cursed Lucius Malfoy for arriving when he did, just at the moment Draco was going to kiss her. That had infuriated her even more in turn. Why on Earth should she want to be kissed by someone who was holding her captive? It was ridiculous.

She pulled a pale blue dress from the wardrobe, and yanked it on only to become angry with the ties at the back. Why did all these dresses have to be so complicated? "Hmph, Dai -!"

"I will help you." Ginny jumped at Draco's voice, not realising he had entered the room. "Did I scare you?"

"No," she lied, pursing her lips tightly as he walked toward her.

He shrugged at her. "I'm sorry if I did," he replied, obviously not believing her. Ginny had thought she was a good liar, but he always seemed to know. "Here, turn around."

Ginny gave in begrudgingly, it wasn't like she would be able to do them up on her own, and then refusing his help would appear strange. So she turned to face the bedpost and held on to it whilst he laced her dress up, all the while remaining silent, the only evident sound was their breathing. Ginny could also feel his cool breath on the back of her bared neck and then his lips. The touch made her gasp in surprise, and the sound humoured him as she felt him smile against her skin. To her horror, she felt her heart racing and the warmth rising within her.

Then he stopped.

"There, all done," he whispered close to her ear, and she felt the heat from his body retreat with such a suddenness that it took a lot of willpower to prevent her legs from following.

"Thank you," she said steadily, quickly regaining her composure to face him.

Draco had seated himself by the empty fireplace and was studying her intently. "I have decided to allow you some more time, Ginevra," he said after some silence.

Ginny frowned. "More time for what?" she asked as she sat across from him.

"To get used to the idea of sleeping with me," he replied, blunt and brutal.

"Oh..." Ginny blinked, "but, why?"

He looked at her, his gaze softening as their eyes met and he took her hand. "I realised that I may have been a little... impatient," he explained, stroking her fingers lightly. "And perhaps a little harsh. Considering you have never done this before, I realise that I cannot rush you."

Ginny gawped at him, her mouth hanging open in shock. "So... so how long do I have?"

"I think three more months is enough," he replied, "but maybe you could be persuaded before that." He kissed her hand, a smirk playing on his lips and leaned back in his chair, letting go of her.

"Maybe," she said smoothly, matching his gaze, hoping that nothing on this Earth could persuade her to sleep with him, not even her traitorous body. "Thank you, Draco," she said sweetly, standing up to peck him on the cheek.

"Is that all I get, Ginevra?" he asked in mock sadness. Without warning, he pulled her down into his lap. "At least kiss me where it counts."

Ginny's eyes widened at his request, but she couldn't refuse him and did she even want to refuse him? The stray thought caused her eyes to drift to his lips, a small smile there. Without even realising it, she was leaning in closer and closer until her lips met his gently. Draco pulled her tighter to his body, forcing her to kiss him deeper. Then he pulled back abruptly.

"Let's not get carried away," he murmured, holding her face and running his thumb across her lips.

"What?" she said, confused by the sudden end.

Draco laughed shortly. "Soon, Ginevra," he muttered. Ginny realised what he was implying and immediately began stuttering out a defence, but he shushed her. "I have a few things I need to attend to now," he said as he moved her aside so he could stand, "but I will see you tonight."

"Oh, where are you going?" she asked, a little shocked by this. Ginny had presumed that he would be spending the day with her as he usually did.

"Just to Gringott's and then to Sussex," he replied casually, straightening out his clothes and Summoning his cloak. "I would bring you with me, but I thought you would like some time on your own."

"Yes, that would be nice," she answered, becoming even more confused now at his sudden generosity.

"You will understand if I ask you to remain upstairs? You can go to your library or your room." Draco finished clasping his cloak around his shoulders and looked at Ginny, waiting for an answer. She nodded. "Good, I shall see you later."

Once she was sure he had gone, Ginny rushed out of their bedroom and to the top of the staircase, but before she could even touch the top step a sharp force threw her immediately backwards. "Ohhh, that little..." Ginny cursed, rubbing her shoulder as it had struck the floor. "Why ask, Draco?" she said to thin air. All she had wanted to do was look at the brooms, and... possibly ride one as well. "Fine," she humphed, leaving the staircase and making her way toward the library.

But, several weeks later, and Ginny began to believe that it wasn't 'fine'. It wasn't fine at all. Whenever Draco had other matters to deal with, which was now rather often, she was completely alone. The house elves were always too busy to accompany her anywhere, so to be able to enjoy the August sunshine she had to wait for Draco to escort her outside. Ginny hardly ever saw Draco either, a whole day could pass without her seeing him, except when she woke and went to bed.

In the time to fill up the boredom, she had managed to read all the books he had given her; she knew exactly which cutlery to use with which meal, she had learned the correct way to greet a Lord and Lady, the best way to hold a teacup and had an even read an ancient book called How To Please Your Husband: The Definitive Guide for Pureblood Wives. Needless to say, the information in that book did not stick as well as Draco may have liked. Ginny had even attempted to practice the piano, but she was terrible at it and Draco had eventually given up urging her after realising she was a hopeless cause.

The dancing, however, continued. Each week he would dress in his best evening clothes and she would wear a ballgown, and they would waltz. Ginny truly despised herself for anticipating the words 'meet me in the ballroom'. But, dancing had become her only enjoyment as there was only so much entertainment she could get from the wireless and a limit to the amount of interesting books in the library. Having grown up surrounded people, being completely alone was a shock to the system.

This particular day, she was in her private chambers and Draco had gone off to Sussex again, his announcement causing her anger. What was so special about Sussex all of a sudden? And why did he always get to go gallivanting about? Ginny huffed about the room and turned on the wireless, as she usually ended up doing, and decided that she would practice some of the dancing he had taught her the day before last.

"Play..." she hesitated. She actually didn't know any titles. "Play a waltz." Ginny hoped that this would work, and sighed with relief as the wireless crackled in acknowledgement.

Ginny jumped into her place as the music began in a burst of violins, and she waited the proper amount of time for her invisible partner to complete their bow. She curtsied gently, praising herself at how well she had mastered it over the past few weeks. Then she took the pretend hand and began the steps with enthusiasm. The music sounded beautiful and romantic, not something entirely suitable for a dance with Draco, but sufficient for practice. Besides, her invisible partner didn't have to be Draco... but try as she might, she could hardly even picture anyone else.

Smiling, Ginny whirled herself around and almost tripped as she noticed, to her great embarrassment, that Draco was observing her from the doorway.

"Careful, Ginevra," he muttered softly, catching her before she could fall.

"Thank you," she mumbled, disentangling herself from his arms so she could turn the wireless off. "You are back early."

"I came to see you," he replied simply, smirking at her and she knew she must have been as red as a tomato from dancing. "And I see you like dancing after all."

Ginny watched as he sat down at the window seat, feeling even more humiliated that he had discovered her. "I suppose it isn't that bad..." she admitted.

"Your taste in music is also quite surprising," he said, now smiling. "I suppose Granger introduced you to it."

"No," Ginny replied, frowning. "Why would she have?"

"It is a muggle composition," he pointed out.

"Oh, it played randomly," Ginny answered. "And how do you know about it, then? What is it called?"

"The Sleeping Beauty waltz," he answered casually, as if him knowing about muggle culture was nothing that needed to be explained. Maybe Ginny had underestimated how much becoming a werewolf had changed him; he wasn't a hero, but he sounded closer to a blood traitor than a Death Eater. "I appreciate music, Ginevra. And when I was first bitten, all I did for months on end was listen to music, and listening to the same things all the time grows tiresome."

"Yes, I know," she replied, her weeks of boredom testifying to that as she sat across from him. "But I think muggles are fascinating, they survived for so long without magic. They invented so many things to make their lives easier."

"And their music is beautiful," Draco agreed to her surprise.

"They have other types of music too, and they have this box that can show you people acting out plays all day!" she said enthusiastically. Ginny sighed then, slumping back against the seat. "But I suppose that's all gone now."

"Don't get upset over it, Ginevra, we can only think about the here and now, and the future, if we are to survive. The past is done," he finished, stroking her cheek, and the action brought her sharply back to reality. How could she be having a normal conversation with Draco Malfoy? About muggles, no less. "What is the matter?"

Ginny looked at him, wondering whether or not to tell him how she felt. Truthfully, she knew that this would not be a good idea, considering her feelings were not exactly favourable towards him despite the warmth she felt when he touched her. But she ignored that. "Just thinking about the hopelessness of it," she finally replied.

"It isn't completely hopeless, not for us," he said gently, smiling at her and making that warm feeling she had just tried to ignore come raging to her skin. "And perhaps we can dance to that music next time."

Ginny nodded, thinking that this would be the last thing she wanted. That music should be for intimate lovers only. If they danced to that music, she knew that all she'd be able to think about was what he was thinking and then she wouldn't be able to concentrate on the steps. She felt ridiculous again, getting herself worked up over nothing. Why should she care if he looked and thought of her romantically? It didn't change her goal.

"Anyway, I have a surprise for you," he said suddenly.

"What is it?" she asked, a little apprehension in her voice.

"Something you'll like," he chuckled. "Don't worry, Ginevra, I know you will like this."

Ginny was not convinced at all by his reassurances nor by his cheerful demeanour, if anything it made her feel even more reluctant. "Where is it, then?" she said hesitantly.

"In Switzerland," he replied in a casual voice.

"Switzerland?!" Ginny's doubts were definitely growing with each word he spoke, but now her curiosity was getting the better of her.

"I have had a Portkey arranged for us to leave in..." he checked his watch, "ten minutes. If you want to change, be quick about it."

"I'm fine like this," she said hastily, beginning to feel excited at the prospect of travelling to another country. "Will I need to bring a cloak?"

"I shouldn't think so, Switzerland doesn't generally involve itself with foreign affairs or foreigners," he said, seeming quite relieved by this. "We won't need to conceal ourselves."

In the following ten minutes, Ginny impatiently tapped her foot against the polished dark wood flooring in the entrance hall, feeling a little pathetic at how desperate she was to be free from the manor. "Quick!" she said loudly as she saw the china figurine beginning to glow.

"Not yet!" he snapped, pulling her back before she could touch it. "Hold on to me tight," he ordered. She quickly did as she was told and they reached for the figurine simultaneously. Once her finger touched the cool china, the unforgettable pull in her stomach wrenched her fiercely backward, swirling away from the manor.

Draco held Ginevra firmly as they both touched ground in an empty cobbled alley. He allowed himself a moment to recuperate before checking to see if Ginevra was alright, but she seemed fine and, to his amusement, quite excitable.

"Stay close to me," he said firmly, grasping her hand to keep her from running. Ginevra had changed a little over the past month or so, but despite this he could not let his guard down now, not when he felt so close to winning her. She still had that fire and defiance in her, that much he could tell from her occasional looks she gave him when asked to do something unsatisfactory.

Hand in hand, they left the dark and cramped alley and emerged on to a bright and busy cobbled street, which was surrounded by shops on both sides and market stall sellers shouting their wares with the sun blazing down upon them all. Draco was glad to be wearing his light-coloured linen suit, otherwise he would have boiled in the heat. Ginevra was perfectly fine in her dress, which was short-sleeved and low-cut. Thinking about that last detail made him pause for a moment. Draco had admittedly selected those dresses because they were low-cut, something that he was now regretting; they were all well and good for the manor but not for these situations where they would be in contact with other people, namely other wizards.

"Ginevra, would you like my jacket?" he asked, making sure his voice was steady; he didn't want her to think he was put out by it.

She glanced at him with a look of incredulity on her face as she continued to walk. "No, thank you, I am warm enough," she replied politely. "Do you not want to carry it yourself or something?"

"Don't be absurd," he replied, a little irritated by her refusal. "I am fine, I just thought you might wish to cover yourself from the sun."

"Despite being a redhead, I can tan a little," she said pointedly. "If I lay outside long enough, that is."

Draco smiled at her placatingly. "That is all well and good, but I much rather you remained this way," he reached his free hand up to her arm and brushed the skin lightly. "This way, I can see you blush all the better." As if on cue, her cheeks flushed that pinky colour that flared up his excitement, but he ignored it with some difficulty. Draco was becoming very good at ignoring his excitement of late. "Besides, I'd like you to engage in better things rather than sunbathing."

"I don't have anything better to do at the manor," she replied with a hint of snark.

"When my father dies, you will become the lady of the house and you will have plenty to do," Draco answered, smiling down at her. "Running a household as large as mine is not easy." Then he smirked. "I did give you those catalogues to start decorating the nursery..."

Ginevra gave him a look which perfectly demonstrated her displeasure at his words. "Well, I can't decorate or plan anything without knowing the gender, Draco," she replied calmly.

"Find neutral decorations then," he replied without looking at her. "However, it will be a boy."

"My whole family thought I was going to be a boy," Ginevra said in a smug voice.

"Luckily for me, you weren't," he said humorously. "At any rate, I'd lay my entire fortune on it being a boy."

"Oh!" she suddenly exclaimed, her hand to her mouth and his heart pounded hard against his ribcage as he felt her struggle against his grip.

"Ginevra, don't -!"

"It's the new Firebolt!" she gushed as she dragged him to the window of the neon yellow broom shop. Ginevra practically pushed her nose up against the glass as she stared in awe at the new broomstick, in all its dark, trimmed and polished glory. Draco thought it was a handsome broom, but even more handsome was the woman ogling it with so much joy. Quidditch was obviously her great love, but it was something that he just couldn't give her yet; it was far too risky to allow her a broom, no matter how happy it would make her.

Draco allowed a few minutes more to look at the broom, but refused to let her go inside. "Come, Ginevra," he urged, pulling her away. "You will like my surprise even better than this, I promise you."

Ginevra reluctantly unstuck herself from the window, looking dejected, but he carried on leading her down the busy street weaving between witches and wizards with a Seeker's focused skill. "Where are we going?" she asked him finally, now a bit breathless from all the walking.

"You'll see soon enough." Then he stopped abruptly outside a luminous purple shop that had small arched windows at the top and a single large square window at the bottom for display; the name Heffelfinger's was emblazoned in gold lettering on the shop front, door and hanging sign. Underneath the name were more words, but these were in German. "This is your surprise, Ginevra."

Draco allowed himself to look at her now as her face changed from confusion slowly to realisation, then to awe. Her mouth formed a small 'o' as she stood there staring at the garish shop, dumbfounded. "A wand?" she whispered.

He nodded shortly. "Yes, Ginevra, a wand," he replied, finding himself staring at her, admiring her. Draco really could not believe this was happening to him; he never believed he would have done anything to win someone's attentions, let alone a Weasley's, but there he was, handing her power on a silver platter. Not quite yet, though. Draco would have to make her earn it before she could truly have it, this was simply a gentle push in the right direction. "Shall we go in?"

Ginevra positively beamed as she nodded vigorously at him, pulling him toward the entrance.

A tiny bell tinkled as they walked through the door, the cool air from within hitting him with relief. Draco noticed the interior was sparsely furnished, save for two stools by the counter and heap of shelving stacked with elongated boxes that no doubt contained wands. Despite the brash exterior of the shop, inside was much like Ollivander's had been; musty and a bit on the dingy side.

"Ah ha! Guten Tag!" a loud, booming voice greeted cheerfully, causing both customers to jump at the sound of it. A short, round and pudgy-faced man shuffled into their line of vision. "Darf ich der helfen?"

"Sprechen sie Englisch?" Draco asked, hoping his very limited German was adequate enough. He had never been very good with languages, which his mother had thought was a useful skill so it was to her dismay that Draco had given up trying to learn.

"Englisch?" the squat man blinked his beady eyes. "Ja! I speak English very well," he replied in a heavy German accent. "What can I help you with today?"

"A wand, for the lady," Draco gestured to Ginevra, who was still gawping in amazement at all the wand boxes as if she had never seen one before. "But I require something unique... I understand you design custom-made wands?"

"Ja," he nodded enthusiastically. "It is very expensive -."

"Money is of no consequence," Draco said as he dropped a small, but heavy velvet bag full of galleons down on the wooden counter. "See that as a down payment."

The wandmaker reached for the bag, glee written all over his face, particularly as the gleam from the gold shone in his eyes when he opened it up. "Very good," he said happily, whisking the bag inside his robes with such speed that Draco hardly noticed it had gone. "You will want one for yourself once you see the quality of your wife's wand."

"I am happy with mine, thank you," he said politely. After his hawthorn wand had been stolen by Harry Potter some years ago, he had been chosen by his new wand; Fir, Unicorn hair and twelve and a quarter inches, slightly springy. It was a simple, straight cut wand, but he knew he would not need another as it had bonded to him as the old wand had, perhaps even better.

"But how can I have a custom-made wand? Doesn't the wand choose the wizard?" Ginevra asked, her face bemused as she stared at Heffelfinger, waiting for an explanation.

"Ja, the wand is always choosing the wizard," Heffelfinger smiled, "but there are better ways to make the match."

"Like what?" she said doubtfully.

"Samples of your hair and a drop of your blood will do it," the wandmaker replied.

"My blood?" she quailed.

"A small drop," he said reassuringly, "nothing to worry about, lady."

"Can't I just try out one of those wands?" she asked in exasperation, turning to Draco and pointing at the dangerously stacked boxes filling the shop to the ceiling.

Draco chuckled at her. "I didn't think you were afraid of a little blood," he smirked.

"I'm not," she said indignantly, "but this seems to be a bit long-winded. I'd rather try them out."

"Pah! Nonsense!" Heffelfinger exclaimed. "You must have had your first wand from Ollivander, he was in love with that method... but my way is even better, trust me." Ginevra stared up at him, conflicting emotions playing in her eyes, but once she realised it was either going to be this way or nothing at all, she quickly accepted Heffelfinger's offer of trust. "Then, follow me, bitte." The wandmaker gestured to Ginevra, who stood to follow him. "No need to come, we will only be a moment," Heffelfinger said cheerfully as Draco tried to enter the back room with them.

"Fine, don't be long," he muttered, taking his seat again, hoping that Ginevra wasn't stupid enough to attempt an escape now. Being out of the manor, especially somewhere as far as this, simply made him feel anxious. There was always that possibility that she would try and escape. Draco sat there in silence as the minutes ticked by, worrying more and more, but he worried for nothing as she returned to the front of the shop and sat beside him again, still with a bemused expression on her face. "Do you like your gift?" he asked gently, staring intently at her to see her reaction.

"Yes... but, why?"

Draco understood her confusion; why would he give her wand when he had been so against it before? At least for the time being. "I want to show you that I am not the monster you think I am," he answered softly, taking her hand in his own. "I don't want you to see me as your captor."

Ginevra fixed her warm brown eyes on his as if she were trying to assess his honesty. But he was being perfectly truthful with her; he wasn't her captor, despite the situation they were in, as she had been given a choice. Granted, there hadn't been many options, but she had still had the choice. Draco only kept her from leaving now because she would surely die without his protection and, inexplicably, the thought of that seemed awful. Truly, he did want to allow her total freedom, but she wasn't ready for this world and he wasn't ready for the possibility that she might not return.

"Thank you, Draco," she said quietly, pulling him from his unpleasant thoughts. "I am very grateful."

Draco smiled at her. "That is OK, Ginevra," he replied, "just don't disappoint me."

"I told you, I have nowhere else to go... I'm not even sure if I have anyone left, either," she mumbled, looking down at the floor.

"You have me, don't forget that," he said, lifting her face back up. "You and I will continue in this world together."

"Ebony!" Heffelfinger's voice boomed, causing them both to jump in surprise once again. "Unicorn hair, eleven and a half inches and brittle! A fine wand for a fine lady, and a stubborn one it would seem," the wandmaker added humorously, his tiny eyes glittering with mirth.

"She isn't easily swayed, I'll grant you that," Draco agreed.

Heffelfinger laughed heartily as Ginevra looked on indignantly. "Where is the wand then?" she asked impatiently.

The wandmaker laughed again at her ignorant question. "But, my lady, it is custom-made," he explained politely, "it will take at least another month to create."

"Oh..." she said dejectedly, her face crestfallen.

"It would seem she is an impatient one too," Heffelfinger pointed out in a jolly tone. It was as though the man were in a perpetual state of joy.

"Aren't you happy?" Draco asked her, feeling disheartened by her reaction.

"Yes! Yes, I am," she replied hastily. "I just thought I'd have it now."

"I know it is hard without a wand," he acknowledged, "but this wand will be special. You won't regret waiting longer."

"Your husband is right; once you see my creation, you will be in love with it," Heffelfinger said assuredly and clapped his hands together. "Now, may I take your name and address -?"

"That won't be necessary," Draco interjected. Now was not the time to risk giving his name away. "I will come back in six weeks, that should be enough time and I will give you the full payment."

"Well, that saves me the trouble of sending it out," Heffelfinger shrugged, accepting the proposal without suspicion.

"Excellent," Draco said as he slipped from his stool. "Thank you."

"Danke," the wandmaker replied happily. "I shall see you soon!"

"Come, Ginevra, we'll have lunch here," he said as they exited the cool shop into the hot street once more.

As they walked further down the shopping district, taking in the spectacular views of the white-tipped mountains in the distance, Draco felt quite pleased with himself. He genuinely felt that Ginevra could finally be warming up to him, and then would only be a matter of time until she had heated up enough that she would come to him. Draco was patient enough to wait, though it was very tiresome, even more so when he caught glimpses of her body underneath the covers as she slept. But he would stay patient.

"This will do," he announced, stopping outside a large and powder-blue building, which was covered in windows top to bottom. Judging by the menu posted in the window by the entrance, the restaurant was French, but before he could enter the building a familiar piercing voice stopped him dead.

"They don't let your sort in there, Draco, dear," the voice called shrilly, dripping with mock concern. "My, haven't you changed!" she said as Draco whirled around to face her, aware that Ginevra had stiffened by his side as she realised who was talking. He waited until she had finished ogling him, the hypocritical bitch.

"Thank you so much for your concern, Pansy," he spat derisively, sneering at her and putting on his best look of disgust. "Time hasn't been very kind to you."

"Now, there is no need to be like that, Draco," Pansy simpered, mock sadness in her voice. "I have had a child, which is more than you have done." She threw her head back and laughed, obviously not caring about his insult to her weight. "You should have had an heir by now, but, silly me, I forgot. Daddy had to scrape the barrel for this one." Pansy nodded at Ginevra, a bejewelled hand and arm gesturing carelessly at her.

"And you settled for boring Nott," Draco shot back sharply. "I'm surprised you managed to stay awake to conceive a child, let alone give birth to one."

Pansy narrowed her eyes at him; there, he had touched a nerve. "No more boring than you were, Draco," she replied then, smirking.

Draco clenched his jaw tightly, infuriated by her jibe. The stupid bitch had always clamoured for his attentions, practically begged him for it most of the time. He knew she hadn't been with him for money either, her family had just about as much as the Malfoy's and she was also a sole beneficiary. Yet, as soon as she had found out he had been infected, she had run quicker than he had ever seen her run. It still hurt the way she had left him like that. "Funny that, considering it was always you on your knees first," he sneered. "I suppose it's the other way round with you and Nott."

"At least I have a daughter to show for it," Pansy scowled, her red lips twisting into a sneer.

"Who will be just as poisonous as you," Draco replied harshly.

"I'm not the one with a disease, Draco, don't forget that," she said smugly.

Draco could not believe how angry Pansy was making him, but the truth was that he hated her. Once he had fancied himself in love with her, he would even have married her, but her betrayal had pushed him beyond love and she obviously hadn't loved him enough to stay with him.

"And you have stooped even lower with the blood traitor," she laughed again, covering her red mouth with her hand as she sniggered to herself. "Though I suppose being a blood traitor is better than being an animal. To think I used to dream of marrying you! What a joke!"

"So, Nott is second best then," he smiled maliciously, ignoring her idiotic insults, as if he had never heard them before. "It is fortunate for me that you did run off with that bore, because Ginevra is a far better wife than you would have been."

Pansy pursed her lips but quickly shot back at him. "Oh, so you have bedded her then? I thought she still held a torch for that fool Potter." Draco felt Ginevra tense up beside him again at the mention of Potter's name. "How does it feel to have Potter's leftovers? Even a dead boy has to be better than you, even that delusional idiot Potter - ahhh!" Pansy shrieked.

Draco heard it before he saw it; quick as a Niffler going for gold, Ginevra had flashed out from his side and smacked Pansy hard across the cheek. "Don't you dare speak of Harry, you stupid pug-faced cow!"

"How dare you touch me, you filthy blood traitor!" Pansy shouted as she cradled her cheek, drawing looks from the bustling crowd behind them. "See, you must be a bore, Draco. Look how she defends Potter!"

SMACK!

Ginevra had hit her again, this time on the other cheek. "Just keep on talking, go on," she urged as Pansy stood there dumbstruck. "Draco's worth ten of you and your wretch of a husband together; he had a lucky escape!"

Draco smiled to himself at her words, not caring if she was just saying those things to shut Pansy up. "Don't you dare, Pansy," he warned suddenly as he noticed her reaching for her wand by her side, and he whipped his out quickly, drawing Ginevra back to his side to keep her out of the line of fire. "I will hex you and it will hurt a lot more than those slaps."

Pansy stood in complete shock, her hand on her wand and her mouth opening and closing rapidly like a fish. She seemed to be struggling with herself, with what to do. "Your father will hear about this, make no mistake, Draco," she spat. "You'll be lucky to keep your manor after this." With that, she turned swiftly on her heel and stalked off, her pride battered thoroughly.

"Go ahead," he muttered, turning to Ginevra to make sure she was OK. She was breathing heavy, that much he could tell from the way her chest was rising and falling rapidly, and her face was glowing with exhilaration. She obviously loved an argument when the time called for it. Then he couldn't help himself, he pulled her to him by her arms and kissed her hard, ignoring her feeble protests about being in public and people staring at them. "I don't care," he muttered under his breath, pulling her to him again.

"Don't you care about her threats at all?" she said breathlessly, managing to push him away, crossing her arms in seriousness.

Draco scoffed at the question. "Why should I? If being a werewolf didn't make him disown me, then nothing else will," he replied flippantly, "let alone Pansy."

Ginevra looked in the direction Pansy had left them. "What the hell did you see in her, anyway?" she said suddenly, her eyes flashing with anger.

"She was talented in other areas," he shrugged, chuckling as Ginevra continued looking the way Pansy had left, her eyes glinting with... jealousy? "Don't be jealous, now." Draco pulled her back to him, but didn't kiss her this time.

"I am not jealous!" she said defensively, meeting his gaze courageously. "Jealousy is for children."

"OK, Ginevra," he replied, unconvinced and certain that she was jealous, at least a little bit. "Anyway, she was appealing to my teenaged self; we shared common interests at the time."

"So you both hated muggle-borns?" she said grimly. "How romantic."

"That wasn't quite what I meant."

Ginevra huffed. "I don't want to talk about Parkinson anymore," she muttered shortly.

"Good, because I never wanted to in the first place," he said, smiling at her moodiness. She was definitely jealous. "Now, are we going to eat or are we going to discuss my ex-girlfriends?"

"What?!" she said incredulously. "I thought Parkinson was the only -."

Draco laughed. "What do you take me for? A saint?"

"No, I just thought... Oh, I don't know," she trailed off, clearly aggravated.

"You thought no one would come near me because of my affliction?" Draco said with humour. "No one decent or up to my father's standards would, but there were plenty of other witches willing to fall to my charm, particularly foreign ones who don't know the name Malfoy."

"So, why didn't you marry one of them?"

"As I said, they were not up to my father's standards," he repeated. "But, you needn't worry, they were all long gone before you arrived. I didn't see the point in pursuing witches I had no intention of marrying, especially since my father was diagnosed as terminal."

Ginevra wriggled out of his grasp then. "I am not worried in the slightest about scarlet women," she said firmly, her arms crossed again, her words making him laugh.

"That means we can eat then," he said, humour still evident in his voice as he noticed how annoyed she had become.

She gave him a curt nod and he decided that he might punish her later for that little slip up. The thought made him feel quite excited.

A/N: Thank you for the continued support and hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please review! Constructive criticism would also be great, if there is any.

Marinka: I hope I am portraying them as much in character as possible, whilst trying to maintain some level of romance between them. And we will have to wait and see what happens later down the line...

EmmaRiddle: Thank you for your review! I have been in the fandom for a very long time as well, since about 2003 and decided to have a fresh start with my new username, but I thought I recognised yours and realised I had read one of your fics way back when.

Nacilme: Thanks for the review. From what I have read, the Wolfsbane Potion can prevent a transformation as long as the human does not enter the moonlight. At least, this was how I interpreted it.

TheGirlWhoWroteThis: The reason why they are bigging up Harry's defeat is because the Death Eater's might have potentially viewed Harry as a powerful wizard, especially because of what happened the night Harry's parents were killed. They could have been under the impression that Harry had not reached his full potential yet, but would have been formidable in a few year's time. Thanks for the review, hope you enjoy this chapter.