Ravishing, he rose at her from the gaping earth

like nothing she had ever beheld

blooming there before, his bleak shadow

strangling the insipid flowers,

bleaching the easy green from the grass,

relieving her of birdsong and bouquets,

the rows of oats blowing silver in the sun -

so she let him take her in his shrouding arms,

the stricken garlands slipping from her lap

and a peacock beginning to wail

close above the sealing earth

'Hades and Persephone' by Carol Tufts

August 2003

Ginny shivered against the cooling evening air as she made her way precariously up the gravel drive. She clutched her wrap tighter, wishing that she had fought harder to wear something less revealing than the backless white gown her mum had picked out. She felt a bit like a virgin sacrifice being marched to her death, completely incongruent with the festive mood the rest of her family and friends were exhibiting.

"I'm glad you're here this year," her father said as he nudged her lightly with his elbow. "I know Harry appreciates it too."

Ginny's eyes flicked to the back of Harry's head where he walked a few feet ahead of her, leading the way to the front doors of Malfoy Manor. She couldn't have cared less what Harry thought these days, but when Narcissa had announced that her annual party would be in August this year, after the Quidditch season was over, she'd had no valid excuse to miss it.

"Should be fun," she said, unable to keep the aggravation out of her tone, looking up at the looming hedges that lined the drive and seeing a white peacock perched there, eyeing them haughtily as they passed. White peacocks, how absolutely absurd, she thought.

"Don't start, Ginny," Molly retorted from her other side. "These nights are important-"

"For the good of all the Wizarding world, I know, mum," Ginny groused. "I remember the sodding pamphlets. I just don't see why-"

"Ah, here we are!" Arthur announced at top volume as they mounted the stairs. Ginny sighed and set her mouth in a hard line. She had been fighting her mother about this night for weeks, and her father was sick of it.

The Malfoy family's meteoric return to the centre of high society had been excruciatingly detailed in the Prophet over the last few years, and Ginny often felt she was the only one who just didn't get it. It had started innocently enough; Harry had insisted on testifying, and then so had Hermione. Ginny still wasn't completely sure if Ron had wanted to testify on Draco's behalf or if Hermione had made him, but either way the result was the same. Even Luna had testified for Draco, extolling his kindness to her when she was imprisoned in his cellar. Harry spoke of Narcissa lying to Voldemort himself in order to save his life. Hermione told the Wizengamot that Draco's delay in identifying them had given them the precious seconds they had needed to make their escape. And then it was announced: Draco and Narcissa were both acquitted, and Lucius would serve twenty years in Azkaban.

Then, a string of interviews in the Prophet. Harry, saying that justice had been served and that the wizarding world had to leave their prejudices behind. Narcissa, talking about the horrors of hosting the Dark Lord and the threats and torture that followed any disobedience. Even Draco had spoken out, albeit with a somewhat reticent attitude, about the horrible things he had been forced to do, lest his family suffer. With Lucius - the only member of the family who was universally hated - locked away, it didn't take much for the tide to turn in their favour.

So now there were parties. They grew bigger and more lavish each year, the Prophet reported, thanks to Narcissa's keen social sense and the fact that the Golden Trio had been in attendance at every one. Nobody wanted to be thought of as someone who disagreed with Harry Potter, so everyone was always clamouring for an invitation.

Ginny thought it was all disgusting, but of course her mother would do anything to make Harry happy, and her father was never one to rock a boat. They would never forgive Lucius for what he had done to Ginny all those years ago, but in Molly's eyes Narcissa and Draco had saved Harry, and so they were forgiven.

And now Ginny was in their house, handing her shawl to a house elf named Tofty as Hermione gave a disapproving sniff and tried to ask him if the Malfoys were still treating him well. "Very well, miss, thank you!" he said with a slight hint of hysteria as he backed away.

Luna bounded up the hall towards them and came straight for Ginny, enveloping her in a tight hug and making her wobble dangerously in her shoes. "I just arrived a minute ago. Oh, Ginny, you look so beautiful tonight! And your shoes are lovely, if a bit impractical."

Ginny eyed her friend's sensible flats with envy. "Next time, you can dress me."

"I'll make you some earrings!"

"That would be great, thanks Luna," Ginny grinned.

"I'm so glad you're here this year. Draco will be so happy to see you!" Luna said excitedly.

Ginny sincerely doubted that, but Luna's enthusiasm was contagious. "Well I'm sure it'll be a nice party, at least."

"He's asked about you. We still write to each other. He told me that he went to one of your matches!"

"Luna, I really don't want to talk about Draco Malfoy," Ginny sighed.

"He's become very handsome, you know."

"Everyone knows," she said with a roll of her eyes. "The Prophet never shuts up about it."

"If you danced with him everyone would be really upset about it," Luna observed, looping their arms together and leading the way down the hall. "I hear the number of single girls invited every year gets higher and higher. Draco hates it. He says his mother is an interfering b-"

They had reached the door at last, and Narcissa Malfoy greeted them with a faint smile.

"-usybody," Luna finished in a whisper, and Ginny snorted.

Narcissa turned her cold blue eyes in Ginny's direction, and her smile widened. "Ah, Ginevra Weasley. I was so pleased to hear you would be joining us this evening."

Trying her best to recover her composure, Ginny returned the smile, albeit less warmly, and wondered if she was supposed to curtsy or something. "Thank you for the welcome, Mrs Malfoy. I'm glad I could come this year as well."

"Of course, my dear. Do come in, all of you!" Various greetings were exchanged with other members of the family, but Ginny didn't wait to hear them all and instead took her chance to look around the stately room.

Of course the Malfoys would have a ballroom, and of course it would be gilded and draped with ridiculously thick green velvet, and why wouldn't you need enough pure silver place settings for three hundred of your closest friends? The whole thing seemed a ridiculous farce, and yet… She looked at Luna, nothing but happy to be there, and wondered not for the last time how her friend could forgive people so easily. Ginny's own parents, who had even more reason than most to hate the entire Malfoy family, had been coming to this party for years now and had never once had a bad word to say about either of the Malfoys still in residence. She was just beginning to get a handle on her feelings when Draco himself appeared before her, looking entirely too posh and handsome.

"Ginevra," he nodded. "You're looking lovely this evening." Her sneer was interrupted when Luna flung herself onto Draco for a rather enthusiastic hug. "Hello, Luna," he said with a slightly exasperated tone that suggested he was used to this treatment. "You look beautiful as well."

"Thank you, Draco! But you must call her Ginny, she simply hates Ginevra. She really does look wonderful in white, doesn't she?"

"She does," he agreed, and then turned to greet the rest of the Weasleys before leading them all to their table.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," she whispered to Luna once they were settled.

"I've been telling you, he's quite lovely these days!"

Ginny grimaced. "I wouldn't go that far."

The dinner was quite wonderful, course upon course of delicious food that was so abundant Ginny began to fear for the seams of her dress. The drinks were flowing freely as well, and by the time they were done eating both Molly and Hermione had turned quite pink-faced and giggly. A string quartet that had been quietly playing throughout the meal suddenly began a spirited waltz, and Ginny had an absurd urge to laugh as Draco and his mother opened the dancing. He did cut a rather dashing figure, she would admit only to herself. Tall, and that pinched pointiness of his youth had turned into a strong, sharp jaw, and now that he had stopped using too much hair gel, his hair looked soft and touchable and… She shook her head as she realised that she was staring, and turned her gaze resolutely in a different direction.

Hermione had dragged Ron out to dance, and Luna was twirling an embarrassed Harry around in a way that could only be described as whimsical. "Would you like any dessert, dear?" Molly asked in what appeared to be an attempt to smooth over their earlier disagreements.

"No thanks, mum," Ginny said with a half-smile. Molly smiled back and Arthur escorted her towards the dessert tables, leaving Ginny sitting alone.

"Can I ask for this dance?" came a deep voice from her other side, and Ginny inhaled sharply. She wasn't sure when his voice had burned itself into her psyche, but even before she turned she knew that Draco would be there. "We would be doing each other a favour," he continued, "because every single woman here under the age of thirty is hoping I'll propose on the spot… Except, perhaps, you."

"And what part of that is you doing me a favour?" she retorted with a raised eyebrow.

"The part where everyone will be infuriated but won't say anything for fear of being accused of prejudice," he grinned rakishly.

Despite herself, Ginny laughed. "Fine, one dance." She took his outstretched hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, where he half-spun her into his arms. One hand settled low on her back, just above the draping of her dress, and the heat of his skin was like a brand on her spine.

He led her effortlessly, and she found herself relaxing slightly in his grip as she tried not to blush from the intensity of his grey eyes. "So. Here we are. Dancing together like old friends at a party in your Manor while everyone throws their daughters at you. How does it feel to know you've completely fooled the entire wizarding world?"

He stiffened and his eyes narrowed. "People change, Ginny."

"Apparently they do, Malfoy."

"You don't think I'm allowed to move on with my life? Impossible to imagine that living through a war might make me grow up a little. Or that seeing the result of my parents' misguided beliefs might make me question them. Just inconceivable."

"Even when you helped me you weren't nice about it," she said quietly. They had never spoken of it, the time in her sixth year when Draco had warned her away before she was discovered by the Carrows' night patrol.

"If they had ever found out, He would have hurt my parents," he said.

She didn't need to ask who He was. "But you did it anyway," she replied. "Why?" He said nothing. "The same reason you were sneaking Luna food into the dungeons when you were home?" she pressed. It felt important, suddenly, to understand him.

"Why does it matter?" he said, with a sharp bitterness creeping into his voice. "None of it made a difference, in the end. My father is still in Azkaban. I can still feel Him in my house, as if He's just around the corner, waiting for me."

Ginny could understand that. For months after her first year she'd had nightmares where Tom had returned and dragged her into the diary kicking and screaming while he laughed at her. She shuddered and Draco pulled her infinitesimally closer and then continued in a much calmer, quieter voice.

"I was terrified all the time. At the beginning of my sixth year I thought I was being honoured. I thought I could fix it all, save my family. But every failed attempt only showed me that I was never meant to succeed. I was never meant to survive. And then Dumbledore, that old fool-" his voice cracked and he cleared his throat hastily. "He offered to help. I told him I was going to kill him, and he just wanted to help."

"You lowered your wand," she whispered.

"Yes. And I guess that was the beginning of it. I couldn't do it. I couldn't see a way out, but I couldn't be what they wanted me to be, either. So yes, I took Luna food. I warned you off that night. I tried not to identify Potter and Granger when they were captured. And what did I earn myself?"

"A lot of torture?" she tried to say lightly, but it fell flat.

"Pretty much. And an acquittal. A father in Azkaban and a terrified shell of a mother. Endless nightmares. An empty, lonely house with too many dark memories."

"I know what that's like too," she said, thinking of the empty space at the dinner table that seemed to take up all the air in the room until they were suffocating from Fred's absence.

"Do you?" he asked with a strange tone to his voice and a hard glint in his eye.

"You might not think so, but I do." She wanted to say more, wanted to scream about all the things that she felt were unjust in her life, but she just could not bring herself to do it. But maybe, if she could find herself empathising with him, then they could try to actually get along. She looked at him again, took in the strong lines of his profile, and felt something stirring inside of her.

The dance ended, and Draco let go of her so quickly that she nearly stumbled. "Thank you for the dance," she mumbled, and fled back to her table.

"I'm glad to see you've changed your mind," Molly said with a hard edge to her voice as Ginny took her seat again.

"I was just being polite, mum," she sighed.

Molly made a non-committal noise in her throat, but any retort was cut off as Harry extricated himself from Luna and came back to ask Molly to dance. As they made their way from the table, Arthur turned to Ginny with a mischievous grin.

"I'd love to wander around and see if they're still hiding anything," her father leaned over and whispered conspiratorially. Ginny couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her.

"Only if you take me with you," she whispered back with a grin.

"C'mon, while your mother is distracted," Arthur said as he stood up, and managed to look completely conspicuous as he straightened his dress robes. Ginny looped her arm with his like they were just a father and daughter going on a perfectly normal and not at all suspicious walk, and they headed back to the now deserted entrance hall.

"Where first?" Ginny asked with devilish glee.

"Well, usually I go and have a wee peek around Lucius's study," Arthur said, beginning to lead Ginny further into the house.

"Usually? Dad, tell me you haven't been doing this every year!" She tried to sound stern, but she was laughing far too hard for that.

"You know I don't like to lie," he answered with a mischievous grin. "Come on, this way!" A few moments later, after a quick Alohomora, they were stepping into a spacious office, all dark wood and leather and heavy velvet drapings in a deep burgundy that reminded Ginny of old blood. She shivered slightly and watched her father casting a spell, presumably to reveal traces of Dark Magic, but nothing happened. "Disappointed again," he said lightly, but Ginny wasn't listening.

There was a small cabinet under one of the windows, the door of it slightly ajar, and she could see a soft light inside. Just a reflection, perhaps, but it drew her curiosity, so she walked the few steps over to it. The window was open, and the cool night air made her shiver again as she ducked down and opened the door.

Inside was a large bouquet of flowers in a vase: magenta globe amaranth, ferns, white roses, pale yellow honeysuckle, pink ambrosias, and witch-hazel were all beautifully preserved and looked like they had only been plucked the day before. Ginny reached out to touch them and heard her father crying out for her to stop only a moment before her finger brushed one of the silken petals.

She felt herself falling. Her vision began to darken, and before her mind went blank she heard the mournful cry of a peacock drifting in through the open window.

She is sunlight and springtime, fresh flowers and youth and rebirth all in one. Her wild red hair falls untamed down her back in waves and tiny ringlets. Her white gown flows freely about her ankles, stopping just short of her bare feet as she frolics lightly through the tall grass. She picks flowers of all kinds and colours; ferns and white roses, amaranth and honeysuckle, witch-hazel and ambrosia tumbling messily from her arms as she dances.

The first chill she feels is dismissed as a breeze, but the second gives her pause. She looks around, and realises that her nymphs are nowhere to be seen. Where could they have gotten to? If only she knew the true danger, perhaps she would run away, or call for help, but when He finally appears she feels nothing but curiosity.

He is tall, taller than any man or God she has ever met, and paler than pale. His hair is white, his skin is white, and he has the most beautiful grey eyes that she has ever seen. She freezes in the sunlight, watching him in the shadows, wanting to speak but finding that she doesn't have the words. Her heart beats faster, she feels like her chest is suddenly too tight, and she's struggling to breathe properly. He watches her from the shadow of the trees, a predatory look in his eye that she can't quite seem to find off-putting.

"Who are you?" she finally asks, inwardly cursing the quaver in her voice.

He moves, finally, and she nearly sighs in relief that he is alive after all, for she was beginning to think him a marble statue. "Do you not know, child?"

"I'm no child," she says defiantly, lifting her chin and pushing out her chest.

He laughs, and she feels a burning sensation on her face that is new and strange. "Oh, my dear girl. You are a sweet child. Grown, perhaps, but always sheltered and with no idea of the workings of the world. A child at heart, as it were. And no idea who you challenge." At some point he moves, and by the time he finishes speaking he's within an arm's length of her. The sunlight makes him glow, and she's transfixed and dazzled by the brightness of him. She wonders what it would feel like to run her fingers over the fine silver filigree on his black chest plate, then nearly gasps at her own indecency. As if he can read her thoughts he chuckles, a deep rumble that shoots to her core and makes her press her thighs together involuntarily.

She doesn't understand this feeling of want because she has never felt it before, but she can see that he somehow knows, and she is annoyed that he thinks her ignorant. He reaches for her, and she freezes, but he only brushes his fingers over the tips of her hair, a sad sort of smile on his lips. "You're so beautiful," he tells her, and in that moment she thinks she would follow him to the ends of the earth. "Come with me," he says. "Come with me to my home, and you shall be a queen, my queen, beautiful and terrible."

A thrill shivers through her, and she nods. She will be a queen, and nobody will dare to shelter her again. She will know this god, and be his wife, and she takes his hand and follows him into the shadows.

A single peacock cries a warning, but it is too late for her, and when the earth swallows them she knows that she has made the wrong choice.