Disclaimer: not mine
A/N* wow.you guys are good. That's all I have to say. Mm and another thing, school starts for me tomorrow so expect slower updates. ::sighs:: must. . .resist. . .temptation. . .of. . .fanfiction. . . I'm failing miserably. Well, onto chapter 3.
Chapter 3. Taking Out the Trash
"I don't like peas."
Draco sighed. "Okay, then, try some of this celery. See, it's green, my favourite color. Go on, try some."
Sebastian scowled, making a face that reminded Draco much of his own. "Gross," he whined. "Why do I have to eat these ve-ge-ta-bles?" He drew out the last word in four long syllables, each one enunciated with disdain.
"They're good for you," Draco said wearily. And they're all the house elves prepared, he added silently.
"I don't care," Sebastian said grumpily.
"Tough," Draco retorted.
"Draco!" Narcissa reprimanded, and he turned to see his mother in the doorway, her eyes softening as they focused on Sebastian. As she hurried to his side, an unexpected twinge of envy struck him, but he pushed it aside, instead watching her remove the dishes. "It's okay, Sebbie, you don't have to eat them."
"Sebbie?" Draco snorted and nearly fell out of his chair. "Mother, do you have any idea how much kids are going to make fun of him at Hogwarts? Of all the lame nicknames to choose, you pick one that rhymes with Snape's."
She threw him a pointed look. "I don't think many people at Hogwarts called your professor 'Sevvie,' Draco," she replied.
His temper flared up. First he was stuck with this brat of a child, and then his mother was being so unlike herself, showing more attention to Sebastian than she'd ever to him. "Well, that one time I walked in on the two of you-"
In one sudden motion she whipped around, thin brows arched in distaste and shock in her eyes. "How dare you," she said, willing the reprimand in her voice to equal the indignant expression. "You have no right to speak to me like that, Draco Malfoy."
"I'm sorry, Mother," he muttered, glancing away. "Look, I didn't mean to get like that, I'm just in a foul mood."
She frowned at him. "I can tell." There was a pause, and then she embraced him stiffly. "Draco, you're my only son and I love you, but I just don't understand you. Aren't you happy to be home?"
"Why would I be happy?" Draco exploded. "My mother would rather that Pansy's son be hers, and my father is nowhere near dying. Tell me what the hell I should be happy about, Mother."
"Mo-ther," Sebastian repeated, a toothy smile creasing his youthful face. He waved his arms jubilantly and glanced at the two surprised adults with expectant brown eyes.
Narcissa sighed. "You know I wouldn't want anyone to replace you," she said quietly. "But I see the way your wife neglects Sebastian, and it hurts me. He is your child, after all, is he not?"
Her voice reached an odd pitch at the end of her question, and Draco could almost swear she knew about Sebastian's paternity. But as her wide silver eyes gazed back steadily, he had no choice but to lie, "Of course, Mother."
"Ah," she said. "I pity the child, having Pansy for a mother."
Draco wasn't sure how to respond. "Well, it isn't like it was my choice to marry Pansy, you know."
She sent him a pained look. "I know, Draco," she replied. "But I couldn't really do anything about your father's choice. He was bent on allying our families, and if your marriage to the bimbo would seal the deal, then so be it."
"You don't love my father," Draco assessed, slumping down into a chair and offering the celery to Sebastian once more.
"That's not true," Narcissa objected, lowering herself so they were nearly eye to eye. "I did once, when we were still innocent Hogwarts students." An amused expression flickered over her face as she reminisced, and she amended with a low chuckle, "Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say innocent."
Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Father received the dark mark during fifth year, Mother. You knew he was a Death Eater before he proposed."
"I didn't say that our differences arose because of his support for him, Draco," Narcissa pointed out. "Nobody forced marriage upon the two of us. Lucius and I were two alike, ambitious, ruthless, cunning."
"So you don't love him anymore," Draco surmised.
"No," Narcissa disagreed. "I do. I just don't always agree with what he does." She reached out for Draco's hands. "Son, I know you find Pansy repulsive, and I can't guarantee that you'll grow to love her. But do try, for Sebastian's sake."
"I've never liked kids," Draco scowled.
She rumpled her grandson's hair affectionately. "Oh, but I think you'll like this little devil here," she cooed, inducing a delighted squeal from Sebastian's part.
"I'll eat the celery now," Sebastian piped up with a cherubic grin, and Draco's scowl deepened.
"See?" Narcissa was overjoyed.
"It doesn't matter," Pansy's voice came from under the doorway, "Because he isn't responsible for him so long as we have the governess."
"Wouldn't she be more of a nanny?" Draco said in a bored tone.
"Doesn't matter," Pansy replied toothily, glancing around the kitchen and waiting for a house-elf. "You're paying for her."
"Figures," Draco muttered, tossing his napkin down in defeat. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic?"
"Not until this afternoon, sweetheart," Pansy reminded. "Here, I've taken the liberty of retrieving her file for you. And you better not chase this one away, because you have no idea how fu-" Narcissa cleared her throat "-uh, how bloody hard it was to find someone who would actually work six days a week."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "If you let them stay overnight, then you'd have millions of women looking for a place to live."
"But we don't want such low-class mongers influencing the heir of Malfoy Manor, now do we?" Pansy winked.
It took extreme willpower not to pull those annoying blond curls of hers, and he snatched the manila folder from her hand. "Aren't you even going to greet your son?" Narcissa directed her intense gaze towards Pansy, who flushed.
"Oh, right." Her smile was saccharine as she planted a forced peck on Sebastian's head. "Dear me, I must have been overwhelmed with the thought of my vacation."
"Would you look at this," Draco drawled, interrupting Narcissa's displease with her daughter-in-law. "You hired a Weasley."
"I know that," Pansy said contemptuously. "I've been working with her for four or five years now."
He fixed her a withering glare. "What possessed you to let a Weasley in my house?"
"She's a good caretaker," Pansy answered defensively. "And she was willing to accept the job for less money than the others. And it's not like I hired that mudblood Hermione Weasley. At least Virginia's purebred."
"Well, well," Draco chuckled. "Granger got herself knockered up by Ron. It is Ron, isn't it?"
"They're engaged," Pansy corrected. "And yes, it's him."
"You know," Narcissa spoke up. "I don't like that muggle-loving family anymore than you do, but Sebastian seems quite taken with her."
"With who?" Sebastian said curiously.
Draco ignored him, shucking the stack of papers onto the table without further glance and pushing away loudly. "I don't care," he said firmly. "I refuse to have a Weasley in my house, period. I'll give that weasel a month while I find a replacement, which I highly doubt is has hard as you made it seem."
"You can't fire her," Pansy cried.
The corners of his lips curled into that familiar, malicious sneer. "Watch me."
~*~
Another day, another blind date.
"Ginny, I'd like you to meet Vince Lowens," Hermione's cheeks swelled with blithe. "Vince, this is my soon-to-be sister-in-law and maid of honor, Virginia Weasley."
Ginny had been on a fair amount of these dates in her life, as Hermione never tired of playing matchmaker, and she had really grown to tire of them. This man was presumably one of the less heinous in the bunch, with his neat shock of black hair and eager, lopsided smile. "Nice to meet you," she forced, reaching out to grasp his hand.
"I don't know if you remember him," Hermione added, "But he was a Hufflepuff at Hogwarts."
"Oh?" Ginny said, trying to search her memory. "I don't think I ever saw you around."
"I graduated when Hermione here was a sixth year," He explained.
"He was my lab partner that year I moved into some advanced classes," Hermione said fondly. "Imagine my surprise when I saw him in Hogsmeade."
"Yes," Ginny echoed. "What surprise."
"Anyways," Hermione chirped brightly, "I must be going, you know, wedding business and all. Have fun Ginny, and it was nice seeing you again, Vince."
"Always a pleasure," he returned.
"Maybe I'll see the both of you at my wedding," Hermione winked. "The invitations say 'and guest' you know."
With that last not-so-subtle hint, she dashed into the crowd, leaving Ginny unexplainably uncomfortable as she glanced up at her date. "I imagine she presumes herself to be cupid," Ginny said lamely.
Vince laughed a bit, and she decided that it sounded rather pleasant. "That would be her," he agreed, and gestured to the quaint French restaurant they were standing in front of. "Dinner's on me. Shall we?"
"I hear they have excellent wine here," Ginny said conversationally as they were seated.
"They do," He confirmed vehemently. "This is one of my favorite restaurants. I have a feeling you'll like it."
"Oh," she was startled as she opened the menu. "Everything's in French."
"Not to worry," he smiled. "All their food is delectable, except for the duck in orange sauce."
"Is that bad?" She asked curiously.
"No," Vince laughed. "It just costs half of a broom, that's all. But if you'd like to try it, it's fine."
"Thanks, but I'll be okay," Ginny assured him. "Just order for me."
"Mademoiselle," he called to the waitress. "Nous voudrions le champagne-sauvignon, et. . ."
She flushed a bit. So he was handsome, intelligent, and cultured. For once, Hermione had been in her right mind. "So do tell me," Ginny said after he was done. She was beginning to enjoy his company, in all honesty, him being one of the first guys whose jokes weren't oriented towards bedroom activities. "You're almost thirty. Why'd you let Herm set you up?"
"I'm recently divorced," he admitted.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she offered.
"I'm not." A distasteful glint appeared in his dark eyes as if reminiscing left an acrid taste in his mouth.
She gulped down the water. "Why not?"
"She became pregnant," he said without a flicker of expression and she nearly spit in his face.
"I would think the opposite," Ginny choked out after having swallowed and regained her composure.
Vince made a face, screwed his eyes shut and wrinkled his nose. "I guess you haven't seen many pregnant women," he chuckled harshly. "They're not the most attractive, you know. They tend to get a bit. . .fat."
"If you loved her, it wouldn't have mattered," Ginny said acerbically.
"I just wasn't attracted to her anymore," he shrugged. "That's all. After the child was born, she never cared about exercising or working off all the weight she'd gained, and I just didn't feel the same towards her. I do have the worst luck with women. That happened with my first two wives, too."
"Two?" Ginny's eyes went wide. "You've been married three times?"
"Oh, but the second one didn't get pregnant," he reassured her, seemingly thinking her incredulous shock could be attributed to his plentiful children. "She just got fat."
"You have something against voluptous women?" She snapped.
He blanched, looking quite taken aback. "Er, well, it depends on what you mean by voluptuous."
"Well, Mr. Lowens," she said, her voice laced with acid disdain, "Do you find me voluptious?"
His eyes roved over her hips. "Well, if you want me to be honest, you could do with getting rid of those love handles," he said in a noncommittal tone aimed to be diplomatic.
Her jaw dropped in fury, and with a quick flick of her wrist the contents of her glass were emptied on his pristine white shirt. "The only thing I'm getting rid of," she seethed, "Is the trash. Namely, you."
"Hey, I just tell it like it is," He said indignantly. "You don't have to get all worked up over nothing."
"Pig," she spat, and stormed out, stopping only to snatch a menu from a nearby waitress. "Send five dishes of the duck in orange sauce to table twelve," Ginny raged, quite obviously frightening the young woman.
"But miss," the woman sputtered. "That's going to be incredibly expensive."
Ginny smiled wickedly. "Oh, I know."
~*~
Harry was eating the remnants of her Chinese take-out when she apparated to her modest London flat, feet propped up on her coffee table and eyes fixated on the television. "Quidditch," he said gleefully by way of greeting. One hand delved into the food while the other absently patted the sleeping girl beside him, and if she hadn't been in such a foul mood, Ginny would've doubled in laughter.
"What are you doing here?" She grumbled, draping her coat over a chair violently.
Her mood must've radiated, because he immediately clicked off the game and ushered her to the couch. "Ron and Hermione wanted the apartment to themselves to do things I really don't want to think about," he chuckled, making a feeble attempt at humor. "So being the wonderful roomie he is, your brother kicked me out."
Ginny threw herself on the couch, muffling her face in the pillow. "At least somebody's getting some tonight," she said dimly.
Harry snorted. "Bad date, I'm guessing?"
"Horrid," she replied, lifting her head and blinking a few times. "You wouldn't believe what an asshole this guy was."
"Oh?" He lifted an eyebrow sympathetically.
"Yes. He was this terrible, git of a man," she ranted between deep breaths. "A total and utter misogynist. But boy, did he get his just- desserts."
"I don't even want to ask," Harry smiled ruefully.
All cheery disposition she could have mustered from imagining Vince Lowens dripping wet disappeared, however, and she grabbed Harry's beer, swiggering down large mouthfuls. "He seemed so nice at first," she went on. "He spoke in French fluently! I thought that, you know, maybe it would actually turn into something. You realize I've never really loved anyone that way?"
"What about that mystery man, Ginny? That one you told me and Herm about a few years back, who you were madly in love with and yet still refused to tell us his name?" Harry said eagerly.
She winced. "I haven't seen him in six years, Harry," she sighed. Even though I work at his house, she added mentally. "I don't think I'm ever seeing him again. Let's face it, I'm doomed to be a spinster."
"Now, now," He comforted, patting her back awkwardly.
"Oh Harry," She lamented with another alarming gulp of alcohol. "You wouldn't understand. At least you've been married."
His green eyes clouded then, and he glanced wistfully at his daughter, still asleep next to him. "Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, right?" His voice cracked as he tried to smile weakly.
"Harry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean-"
"It's okay," He shushed her, and swallowed. "Cho died nearly a year ago. I should be moving on." Uncurling her fingers from his beer, he downed the rest and collapsed against the cushions. "And yet, it still hurts whenever I think about her, you know? I mean, one moment we're living in this beautiful apartment, about to start a family, and the next minute she's gone and Ron's sleeping in the next room. Mind you, Ron's my best friend, but. . ."
"But he's not Cho," Ginny finished, resting her head on his shoulder. "I know, Harry." They sat like that in peaceful silence for a few seconds before she laughed softly. "Look at us, Harry, two people in their mid- twenties feeling single and sorry for themselves."
"Gin," His eyes lit up suddenly. "I've got a bloody brilliant idea."
"What?" she said warily, knowing all too well about his 'brilliant ideas.'
"Let's get married," he said triumphantly.
She leapt up from the couch. "Are you kidding me, Harry?" She all but shrieked.
"No," he insisted gravely. "I mean it."
"But you and I, we're not in love," Ginny protested. "Marriage needs love, Harry. All relationships need love."
He shook his head. "Look, Gin, you said it yourself. You're twenty- six, almost twenty-seven, and you're not married."
"That's not old," she said defensively. "Hermione and Ron are twenty- seven."
"But you've never had a serious relationship with anyone before," Harry pointed out.
She colored. "So?"
He sighed, exasperated. "I just think it would be proper for us to be married," he said quietly. "Maybe we're not madly in love, but we're good friends, very good friends, and we have a sturdy partnership. And it would be nice to see you settled."
"You think I'm incapable of finding love?" Ginny narrowed her stormy brown eyes at him.
"Well, yes," he admitted. "You've pushed every guy you've dated away since you've graduated, and then you disappeared for a year to god-knows-where. In truth, you don't look anywhere near settling down."
"What about you, then?" She demanded. "What about that gorgeous blonde I saw you with two weeks ago? You seemed absolutely mad about her."
He made a sour face. "We had. . .differences."
Ginny crossed her arms and stared at him severely. "So you've had two bad experiences, what, you think you can't find love? You're just giving up?"
"It's not that simple," Harry looked pained. "My daughter's almost six now, and she's bound to start missing Cho. I want her to have a mother, Ginny."
"You want me to be that mother," She said flatly.
"Well, you're a governess," He wheedled. "You'd be a wonderful mother. Why spend your life raising Malfoy's son, who will most likely resent you once he's old enough to truly be influenced by his bastardly parents?"
"I like working with Sebastian," Ginny said acidly.
"Who are you kidding, Gin?" Harry said. "He's a Malfoy, young or not. He may like you now, but he won't forever."
She gazed at him with a stricken expression, wishing she could tell him how wrong he was but then knowing in her heart it was true. "I know," was all she said.
"Ginny," Harry pleaded. "Think about it. It makes sense. What do you say?"
She hesitated, feeling numb. A few years ago, she would've fainted at the idea of marrying the Harry Potter. A few years ago, back when she was still obsessed with him, back before she'd met (and done, Ginny thought ruefully) Draco Malfoy. How funny that someone she'd loathed so much would now influence her over someone she'd always thought she'd loved.
But Harry was right, after all. There was no use hoping that Malfoy would suddenly return to her life and sweep her away, realizing by some freak of nature that he'd bedded a Weasley that devastating night and actually not regretting it. It was all just a lurid fantasy, and one for which she'd paused her romantic life for more than half a decade. He didn't love her- hell, he didn't even know her. The situation was ridiculous, really. Sometimes she just needed to let go of the dreams, Ginny realized as Harry watched her with anticipation. Harry was there, he was real, and he wanted her. So maybe it wasn't with the same, amazing passion she'd experienced with Malfoy, but she knew he would treat her well.
"Okay," she said finally, praying she wouldn't look back upon that day in guilt. Sorry Malfoy, she thought grimly, trying to smile at Harry's elated grin, but I'm moving on with my life.
~*~
The burrow had never been extremely quite or still, so when silence overtook the entire household Ginny was a bit unnerved.
"You're-are you-this is a joke, right?" Ron couldn't seem to get one coherent thought out.
Harry beamed, and Ginny could detect a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Nope," He clapped Ron's back. "We're going to be brothers-in-law, Ron."
"My goodness," Molly Weasley squealed. "Ginny, why didn't you tell anyone you and Harry were dating?"
The newly engaged 'couple' exchanged wary glances. "We, uh, didn't want things to be awkward in case we didn't work out," Ginny fibbed quickly, feeling awful about lying to her best friends and family. Normally, she'd have worried about Hermione's perspicacity latching on to their façade, but the brunette was so engrossed in her own wedding that all she could do was grin dumbly.
"Sensible," Arthur agreed heartily. "My little girl is finally getting married, and it couldn't be to a better man."
"Merlin!" exclaimed Ron. "Gin, this is fantastic!" Two splotches of excited pink appeared on his freckled cheeks, and he rushed to enclose the younger woman in a suffocating embrace.
"Oh oh," Hermione piped up. "Tell us how you proposed to her, Harry. I'll bet it was absolutely quixotic."
As all eyes fell upon Ginny, she flustered, realizing that their sofa conversation really wasn't much of a proposal. Luckily, Harry seemed to feel her surprise, and he spoke up with an alarmingly calm voice. "Well, I surprised her when she came home from that atrocious blind date Herm here insisted on setting up," he began, a rehearsed glint appearing in his eyes but lost to the rest, who were listening with rapt attention.
"What?" Hermione said defensively. "I didn't know they were going out."
Ginny allowed herself to relax slightly as he continued, just as interested to hear precisely how romantic he was. "And I invited her to join me and watch the quidditch match," he went on, "Where just that afternoon I had placed an order for one of those InviteFomercials."
"Dear me," Molly murmured.
Harry squinted at Ginny, aiming to create a starry-eyed gaze. "And she looked so angelic when it finally came on," he said dreamily, enducing a well-covered snort from Ginny. "And the telly version of me got down on one knee-" Here he enacted such mannersims "-and said, 'Ginny, you are my light when it is dark, my day when it is night, my sun when there are clouds. If you would be so for the rest of our lives, you would make me the happiest wizard in London.' And of course, she said yes." A collective sigh of approval fluttered through the room as Harry pecked her politely on the cheek, and she feigned embarassment.
"It was meant to be," Hermione declared, and for that brief moment an image of a unsuspecting man with silvery hair flashed through Ginny's head. Those were the very words that had haunted Ginny for the past six years, that had appeared alongside what she could remember of Draco during every date. They were the words that had caused her to flinch at another man's sloppy kiss or fumbling touch.
Then I guess Draco wasn't meant to be, Ginny told herself firmly, smiling at Harry and squeezing his hand. Harry and I were meant to be.
Nobody noticed the flash of blond hair as an angry figure retreated from the window.
~*~
And so it was a sparkling diamond-Molly's engagement ring, to be exact-that she walked into Malfoy Manor with on her hand the following Monday. The doubts Ginny had felt before were now waning, and she was beginning to think that maybe one day, she would love Harry the way she had during her time at Hogwarts. She wanted some time before the actual event, however, as she realized marriage would mean spilling the numerous secrets she'd worked so hard to keep buried. He might not want to marry you after you tell him what you did, a little voice inside her warned. She pushed her fears away as that same voice asked whether she really wanted to be Mrs. Potter.
She made her way dutifully to Sebastian's grand room, half in deep rumination and half surprised that Pansy hadn't appeared before her yet. Most likely she was in his room, too, Ginny supposed doubtfully. But of course, as usual, Pansy was nowhere near her son, and she found the child alone, giddily playing on his bed, a house-elf cleaning the area around him in a fervor.
"Good morning, Sebastian," Ginny said cheerily.
"Morning, Miss Weasley," He replied, not once glancing up.
"Where's Lady Malfoy?" Ginny asked the scurrying elf, perplexed.
"Mistress went on vacation," the house-elf squeaked. "Mistress will be back in a few weeks."
"Oh." Ginny glanced around the sunny room before smiling at Sebastian. "Looks like it's just you and me, then," Ginny cooed.
"You and me," he repeated happily.
"Not quite," came a voice from the door. An unmistakable voice that could have only one owner. It had been seven long years since she'd last heard that voice, years filled with yearning. A part of her thought frantically that he couldn't possibly have returned, as Lucius Malfoy was still in Canada, but there was a guttaral feeling that thudded in her chest and she needn't turn around to know that without a doubt, the only man she'd ever physically bonded with was standing behind her.
And just when her life was falling into place, too.
Ginny swallowed. "Malfoy?"
~ End of Chapter 3
A/N* What, you think I'd let go of my cliffies? ^_^ And btw, the person outside of the Burrow was NOT Malfoy. . .at least not Draco Malfoy. Be my guest to venture a guess, but you'll have to stick around to see who it was!
I know there's been a bit of confusion with the last two chapters, but if you don't know exactly what's going on it's supposed to be that way. So keep reading, and it'll eventually be clear.
Now the review button is just ITCHING to be pressed. . .
A/N* wow.you guys are good. That's all I have to say. Mm and another thing, school starts for me tomorrow so expect slower updates. ::sighs:: must. . .resist. . .temptation. . .of. . .fanfiction. . . I'm failing miserably. Well, onto chapter 3.
Chapter 3. Taking Out the Trash
"I don't like peas."
Draco sighed. "Okay, then, try some of this celery. See, it's green, my favourite color. Go on, try some."
Sebastian scowled, making a face that reminded Draco much of his own. "Gross," he whined. "Why do I have to eat these ve-ge-ta-bles?" He drew out the last word in four long syllables, each one enunciated with disdain.
"They're good for you," Draco said wearily. And they're all the house elves prepared, he added silently.
"I don't care," Sebastian said grumpily.
"Tough," Draco retorted.
"Draco!" Narcissa reprimanded, and he turned to see his mother in the doorway, her eyes softening as they focused on Sebastian. As she hurried to his side, an unexpected twinge of envy struck him, but he pushed it aside, instead watching her remove the dishes. "It's okay, Sebbie, you don't have to eat them."
"Sebbie?" Draco snorted and nearly fell out of his chair. "Mother, do you have any idea how much kids are going to make fun of him at Hogwarts? Of all the lame nicknames to choose, you pick one that rhymes with Snape's."
She threw him a pointed look. "I don't think many people at Hogwarts called your professor 'Sevvie,' Draco," she replied.
His temper flared up. First he was stuck with this brat of a child, and then his mother was being so unlike herself, showing more attention to Sebastian than she'd ever to him. "Well, that one time I walked in on the two of you-"
In one sudden motion she whipped around, thin brows arched in distaste and shock in her eyes. "How dare you," she said, willing the reprimand in her voice to equal the indignant expression. "You have no right to speak to me like that, Draco Malfoy."
"I'm sorry, Mother," he muttered, glancing away. "Look, I didn't mean to get like that, I'm just in a foul mood."
She frowned at him. "I can tell." There was a pause, and then she embraced him stiffly. "Draco, you're my only son and I love you, but I just don't understand you. Aren't you happy to be home?"
"Why would I be happy?" Draco exploded. "My mother would rather that Pansy's son be hers, and my father is nowhere near dying. Tell me what the hell I should be happy about, Mother."
"Mo-ther," Sebastian repeated, a toothy smile creasing his youthful face. He waved his arms jubilantly and glanced at the two surprised adults with expectant brown eyes.
Narcissa sighed. "You know I wouldn't want anyone to replace you," she said quietly. "But I see the way your wife neglects Sebastian, and it hurts me. He is your child, after all, is he not?"
Her voice reached an odd pitch at the end of her question, and Draco could almost swear she knew about Sebastian's paternity. But as her wide silver eyes gazed back steadily, he had no choice but to lie, "Of course, Mother."
"Ah," she said. "I pity the child, having Pansy for a mother."
Draco wasn't sure how to respond. "Well, it isn't like it was my choice to marry Pansy, you know."
She sent him a pained look. "I know, Draco," she replied. "But I couldn't really do anything about your father's choice. He was bent on allying our families, and if your marriage to the bimbo would seal the deal, then so be it."
"You don't love my father," Draco assessed, slumping down into a chair and offering the celery to Sebastian once more.
"That's not true," Narcissa objected, lowering herself so they were nearly eye to eye. "I did once, when we were still innocent Hogwarts students." An amused expression flickered over her face as she reminisced, and she amended with a low chuckle, "Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say innocent."
Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Father received the dark mark during fifth year, Mother. You knew he was a Death Eater before he proposed."
"I didn't say that our differences arose because of his support for him, Draco," Narcissa pointed out. "Nobody forced marriage upon the two of us. Lucius and I were two alike, ambitious, ruthless, cunning."
"So you don't love him anymore," Draco surmised.
"No," Narcissa disagreed. "I do. I just don't always agree with what he does." She reached out for Draco's hands. "Son, I know you find Pansy repulsive, and I can't guarantee that you'll grow to love her. But do try, for Sebastian's sake."
"I've never liked kids," Draco scowled.
She rumpled her grandson's hair affectionately. "Oh, but I think you'll like this little devil here," she cooed, inducing a delighted squeal from Sebastian's part.
"I'll eat the celery now," Sebastian piped up with a cherubic grin, and Draco's scowl deepened.
"See?" Narcissa was overjoyed.
"It doesn't matter," Pansy's voice came from under the doorway, "Because he isn't responsible for him so long as we have the governess."
"Wouldn't she be more of a nanny?" Draco said in a bored tone.
"Doesn't matter," Pansy replied toothily, glancing around the kitchen and waiting for a house-elf. "You're paying for her."
"Figures," Draco muttered, tossing his napkin down in defeat. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic?"
"Not until this afternoon, sweetheart," Pansy reminded. "Here, I've taken the liberty of retrieving her file for you. And you better not chase this one away, because you have no idea how fu-" Narcissa cleared her throat "-uh, how bloody hard it was to find someone who would actually work six days a week."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "If you let them stay overnight, then you'd have millions of women looking for a place to live."
"But we don't want such low-class mongers influencing the heir of Malfoy Manor, now do we?" Pansy winked.
It took extreme willpower not to pull those annoying blond curls of hers, and he snatched the manila folder from her hand. "Aren't you even going to greet your son?" Narcissa directed her intense gaze towards Pansy, who flushed.
"Oh, right." Her smile was saccharine as she planted a forced peck on Sebastian's head. "Dear me, I must have been overwhelmed with the thought of my vacation."
"Would you look at this," Draco drawled, interrupting Narcissa's displease with her daughter-in-law. "You hired a Weasley."
"I know that," Pansy said contemptuously. "I've been working with her for four or five years now."
He fixed her a withering glare. "What possessed you to let a Weasley in my house?"
"She's a good caretaker," Pansy answered defensively. "And she was willing to accept the job for less money than the others. And it's not like I hired that mudblood Hermione Weasley. At least Virginia's purebred."
"Well, well," Draco chuckled. "Granger got herself knockered up by Ron. It is Ron, isn't it?"
"They're engaged," Pansy corrected. "And yes, it's him."
"You know," Narcissa spoke up. "I don't like that muggle-loving family anymore than you do, but Sebastian seems quite taken with her."
"With who?" Sebastian said curiously.
Draco ignored him, shucking the stack of papers onto the table without further glance and pushing away loudly. "I don't care," he said firmly. "I refuse to have a Weasley in my house, period. I'll give that weasel a month while I find a replacement, which I highly doubt is has hard as you made it seem."
"You can't fire her," Pansy cried.
The corners of his lips curled into that familiar, malicious sneer. "Watch me."
~*~
Another day, another blind date.
"Ginny, I'd like you to meet Vince Lowens," Hermione's cheeks swelled with blithe. "Vince, this is my soon-to-be sister-in-law and maid of honor, Virginia Weasley."
Ginny had been on a fair amount of these dates in her life, as Hermione never tired of playing matchmaker, and she had really grown to tire of them. This man was presumably one of the less heinous in the bunch, with his neat shock of black hair and eager, lopsided smile. "Nice to meet you," she forced, reaching out to grasp his hand.
"I don't know if you remember him," Hermione added, "But he was a Hufflepuff at Hogwarts."
"Oh?" Ginny said, trying to search her memory. "I don't think I ever saw you around."
"I graduated when Hermione here was a sixth year," He explained.
"He was my lab partner that year I moved into some advanced classes," Hermione said fondly. "Imagine my surprise when I saw him in Hogsmeade."
"Yes," Ginny echoed. "What surprise."
"Anyways," Hermione chirped brightly, "I must be going, you know, wedding business and all. Have fun Ginny, and it was nice seeing you again, Vince."
"Always a pleasure," he returned.
"Maybe I'll see the both of you at my wedding," Hermione winked. "The invitations say 'and guest' you know."
With that last not-so-subtle hint, she dashed into the crowd, leaving Ginny unexplainably uncomfortable as she glanced up at her date. "I imagine she presumes herself to be cupid," Ginny said lamely.
Vince laughed a bit, and she decided that it sounded rather pleasant. "That would be her," he agreed, and gestured to the quaint French restaurant they were standing in front of. "Dinner's on me. Shall we?"
"I hear they have excellent wine here," Ginny said conversationally as they were seated.
"They do," He confirmed vehemently. "This is one of my favorite restaurants. I have a feeling you'll like it."
"Oh," she was startled as she opened the menu. "Everything's in French."
"Not to worry," he smiled. "All their food is delectable, except for the duck in orange sauce."
"Is that bad?" She asked curiously.
"No," Vince laughed. "It just costs half of a broom, that's all. But if you'd like to try it, it's fine."
"Thanks, but I'll be okay," Ginny assured him. "Just order for me."
"Mademoiselle," he called to the waitress. "Nous voudrions le champagne-sauvignon, et. . ."
She flushed a bit. So he was handsome, intelligent, and cultured. For once, Hermione had been in her right mind. "So do tell me," Ginny said after he was done. She was beginning to enjoy his company, in all honesty, him being one of the first guys whose jokes weren't oriented towards bedroom activities. "You're almost thirty. Why'd you let Herm set you up?"
"I'm recently divorced," he admitted.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she offered.
"I'm not." A distasteful glint appeared in his dark eyes as if reminiscing left an acrid taste in his mouth.
She gulped down the water. "Why not?"
"She became pregnant," he said without a flicker of expression and she nearly spit in his face.
"I would think the opposite," Ginny choked out after having swallowed and regained her composure.
Vince made a face, screwed his eyes shut and wrinkled his nose. "I guess you haven't seen many pregnant women," he chuckled harshly. "They're not the most attractive, you know. They tend to get a bit. . .fat."
"If you loved her, it wouldn't have mattered," Ginny said acerbically.
"I just wasn't attracted to her anymore," he shrugged. "That's all. After the child was born, she never cared about exercising or working off all the weight she'd gained, and I just didn't feel the same towards her. I do have the worst luck with women. That happened with my first two wives, too."
"Two?" Ginny's eyes went wide. "You've been married three times?"
"Oh, but the second one didn't get pregnant," he reassured her, seemingly thinking her incredulous shock could be attributed to his plentiful children. "She just got fat."
"You have something against voluptous women?" She snapped.
He blanched, looking quite taken aback. "Er, well, it depends on what you mean by voluptuous."
"Well, Mr. Lowens," she said, her voice laced with acid disdain, "Do you find me voluptious?"
His eyes roved over her hips. "Well, if you want me to be honest, you could do with getting rid of those love handles," he said in a noncommittal tone aimed to be diplomatic.
Her jaw dropped in fury, and with a quick flick of her wrist the contents of her glass were emptied on his pristine white shirt. "The only thing I'm getting rid of," she seethed, "Is the trash. Namely, you."
"Hey, I just tell it like it is," He said indignantly. "You don't have to get all worked up over nothing."
"Pig," she spat, and stormed out, stopping only to snatch a menu from a nearby waitress. "Send five dishes of the duck in orange sauce to table twelve," Ginny raged, quite obviously frightening the young woman.
"But miss," the woman sputtered. "That's going to be incredibly expensive."
Ginny smiled wickedly. "Oh, I know."
~*~
Harry was eating the remnants of her Chinese take-out when she apparated to her modest London flat, feet propped up on her coffee table and eyes fixated on the television. "Quidditch," he said gleefully by way of greeting. One hand delved into the food while the other absently patted the sleeping girl beside him, and if she hadn't been in such a foul mood, Ginny would've doubled in laughter.
"What are you doing here?" She grumbled, draping her coat over a chair violently.
Her mood must've radiated, because he immediately clicked off the game and ushered her to the couch. "Ron and Hermione wanted the apartment to themselves to do things I really don't want to think about," he chuckled, making a feeble attempt at humor. "So being the wonderful roomie he is, your brother kicked me out."
Ginny threw herself on the couch, muffling her face in the pillow. "At least somebody's getting some tonight," she said dimly.
Harry snorted. "Bad date, I'm guessing?"
"Horrid," she replied, lifting her head and blinking a few times. "You wouldn't believe what an asshole this guy was."
"Oh?" He lifted an eyebrow sympathetically.
"Yes. He was this terrible, git of a man," she ranted between deep breaths. "A total and utter misogynist. But boy, did he get his just- desserts."
"I don't even want to ask," Harry smiled ruefully.
All cheery disposition she could have mustered from imagining Vince Lowens dripping wet disappeared, however, and she grabbed Harry's beer, swiggering down large mouthfuls. "He seemed so nice at first," she went on. "He spoke in French fluently! I thought that, you know, maybe it would actually turn into something. You realize I've never really loved anyone that way?"
"What about that mystery man, Ginny? That one you told me and Herm about a few years back, who you were madly in love with and yet still refused to tell us his name?" Harry said eagerly.
She winced. "I haven't seen him in six years, Harry," she sighed. Even though I work at his house, she added mentally. "I don't think I'm ever seeing him again. Let's face it, I'm doomed to be a spinster."
"Now, now," He comforted, patting her back awkwardly.
"Oh Harry," She lamented with another alarming gulp of alcohol. "You wouldn't understand. At least you've been married."
His green eyes clouded then, and he glanced wistfully at his daughter, still asleep next to him. "Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, right?" His voice cracked as he tried to smile weakly.
"Harry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean-"
"It's okay," He shushed her, and swallowed. "Cho died nearly a year ago. I should be moving on." Uncurling her fingers from his beer, he downed the rest and collapsed against the cushions. "And yet, it still hurts whenever I think about her, you know? I mean, one moment we're living in this beautiful apartment, about to start a family, and the next minute she's gone and Ron's sleeping in the next room. Mind you, Ron's my best friend, but. . ."
"But he's not Cho," Ginny finished, resting her head on his shoulder. "I know, Harry." They sat like that in peaceful silence for a few seconds before she laughed softly. "Look at us, Harry, two people in their mid- twenties feeling single and sorry for themselves."
"Gin," His eyes lit up suddenly. "I've got a bloody brilliant idea."
"What?" she said warily, knowing all too well about his 'brilliant ideas.'
"Let's get married," he said triumphantly.
She leapt up from the couch. "Are you kidding me, Harry?" She all but shrieked.
"No," he insisted gravely. "I mean it."
"But you and I, we're not in love," Ginny protested. "Marriage needs love, Harry. All relationships need love."
He shook his head. "Look, Gin, you said it yourself. You're twenty- six, almost twenty-seven, and you're not married."
"That's not old," she said defensively. "Hermione and Ron are twenty- seven."
"But you've never had a serious relationship with anyone before," Harry pointed out.
She colored. "So?"
He sighed, exasperated. "I just think it would be proper for us to be married," he said quietly. "Maybe we're not madly in love, but we're good friends, very good friends, and we have a sturdy partnership. And it would be nice to see you settled."
"You think I'm incapable of finding love?" Ginny narrowed her stormy brown eyes at him.
"Well, yes," he admitted. "You've pushed every guy you've dated away since you've graduated, and then you disappeared for a year to god-knows-where. In truth, you don't look anywhere near settling down."
"What about you, then?" She demanded. "What about that gorgeous blonde I saw you with two weeks ago? You seemed absolutely mad about her."
He made a sour face. "We had. . .differences."
Ginny crossed her arms and stared at him severely. "So you've had two bad experiences, what, you think you can't find love? You're just giving up?"
"It's not that simple," Harry looked pained. "My daughter's almost six now, and she's bound to start missing Cho. I want her to have a mother, Ginny."
"You want me to be that mother," She said flatly.
"Well, you're a governess," He wheedled. "You'd be a wonderful mother. Why spend your life raising Malfoy's son, who will most likely resent you once he's old enough to truly be influenced by his bastardly parents?"
"I like working with Sebastian," Ginny said acidly.
"Who are you kidding, Gin?" Harry said. "He's a Malfoy, young or not. He may like you now, but he won't forever."
She gazed at him with a stricken expression, wishing she could tell him how wrong he was but then knowing in her heart it was true. "I know," was all she said.
"Ginny," Harry pleaded. "Think about it. It makes sense. What do you say?"
She hesitated, feeling numb. A few years ago, she would've fainted at the idea of marrying the Harry Potter. A few years ago, back when she was still obsessed with him, back before she'd met (and done, Ginny thought ruefully) Draco Malfoy. How funny that someone she'd loathed so much would now influence her over someone she'd always thought she'd loved.
But Harry was right, after all. There was no use hoping that Malfoy would suddenly return to her life and sweep her away, realizing by some freak of nature that he'd bedded a Weasley that devastating night and actually not regretting it. It was all just a lurid fantasy, and one for which she'd paused her romantic life for more than half a decade. He didn't love her- hell, he didn't even know her. The situation was ridiculous, really. Sometimes she just needed to let go of the dreams, Ginny realized as Harry watched her with anticipation. Harry was there, he was real, and he wanted her. So maybe it wasn't with the same, amazing passion she'd experienced with Malfoy, but she knew he would treat her well.
"Okay," she said finally, praying she wouldn't look back upon that day in guilt. Sorry Malfoy, she thought grimly, trying to smile at Harry's elated grin, but I'm moving on with my life.
~*~
The burrow had never been extremely quite or still, so when silence overtook the entire household Ginny was a bit unnerved.
"You're-are you-this is a joke, right?" Ron couldn't seem to get one coherent thought out.
Harry beamed, and Ginny could detect a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Nope," He clapped Ron's back. "We're going to be brothers-in-law, Ron."
"My goodness," Molly Weasley squealed. "Ginny, why didn't you tell anyone you and Harry were dating?"
The newly engaged 'couple' exchanged wary glances. "We, uh, didn't want things to be awkward in case we didn't work out," Ginny fibbed quickly, feeling awful about lying to her best friends and family. Normally, she'd have worried about Hermione's perspicacity latching on to their façade, but the brunette was so engrossed in her own wedding that all she could do was grin dumbly.
"Sensible," Arthur agreed heartily. "My little girl is finally getting married, and it couldn't be to a better man."
"Merlin!" exclaimed Ron. "Gin, this is fantastic!" Two splotches of excited pink appeared on his freckled cheeks, and he rushed to enclose the younger woman in a suffocating embrace.
"Oh oh," Hermione piped up. "Tell us how you proposed to her, Harry. I'll bet it was absolutely quixotic."
As all eyes fell upon Ginny, she flustered, realizing that their sofa conversation really wasn't much of a proposal. Luckily, Harry seemed to feel her surprise, and he spoke up with an alarmingly calm voice. "Well, I surprised her when she came home from that atrocious blind date Herm here insisted on setting up," he began, a rehearsed glint appearing in his eyes but lost to the rest, who were listening with rapt attention.
"What?" Hermione said defensively. "I didn't know they were going out."
Ginny allowed herself to relax slightly as he continued, just as interested to hear precisely how romantic he was. "And I invited her to join me and watch the quidditch match," he went on, "Where just that afternoon I had placed an order for one of those InviteFomercials."
"Dear me," Molly murmured.
Harry squinted at Ginny, aiming to create a starry-eyed gaze. "And she looked so angelic when it finally came on," he said dreamily, enducing a well-covered snort from Ginny. "And the telly version of me got down on one knee-" Here he enacted such mannersims "-and said, 'Ginny, you are my light when it is dark, my day when it is night, my sun when there are clouds. If you would be so for the rest of our lives, you would make me the happiest wizard in London.' And of course, she said yes." A collective sigh of approval fluttered through the room as Harry pecked her politely on the cheek, and she feigned embarassment.
"It was meant to be," Hermione declared, and for that brief moment an image of a unsuspecting man with silvery hair flashed through Ginny's head. Those were the very words that had haunted Ginny for the past six years, that had appeared alongside what she could remember of Draco during every date. They were the words that had caused her to flinch at another man's sloppy kiss or fumbling touch.
Then I guess Draco wasn't meant to be, Ginny told herself firmly, smiling at Harry and squeezing his hand. Harry and I were meant to be.
Nobody noticed the flash of blond hair as an angry figure retreated from the window.
~*~
And so it was a sparkling diamond-Molly's engagement ring, to be exact-that she walked into Malfoy Manor with on her hand the following Monday. The doubts Ginny had felt before were now waning, and she was beginning to think that maybe one day, she would love Harry the way she had during her time at Hogwarts. She wanted some time before the actual event, however, as she realized marriage would mean spilling the numerous secrets she'd worked so hard to keep buried. He might not want to marry you after you tell him what you did, a little voice inside her warned. She pushed her fears away as that same voice asked whether she really wanted to be Mrs. Potter.
She made her way dutifully to Sebastian's grand room, half in deep rumination and half surprised that Pansy hadn't appeared before her yet. Most likely she was in his room, too, Ginny supposed doubtfully. But of course, as usual, Pansy was nowhere near her son, and she found the child alone, giddily playing on his bed, a house-elf cleaning the area around him in a fervor.
"Good morning, Sebastian," Ginny said cheerily.
"Morning, Miss Weasley," He replied, not once glancing up.
"Where's Lady Malfoy?" Ginny asked the scurrying elf, perplexed.
"Mistress went on vacation," the house-elf squeaked. "Mistress will be back in a few weeks."
"Oh." Ginny glanced around the sunny room before smiling at Sebastian. "Looks like it's just you and me, then," Ginny cooed.
"You and me," he repeated happily.
"Not quite," came a voice from the door. An unmistakable voice that could have only one owner. It had been seven long years since she'd last heard that voice, years filled with yearning. A part of her thought frantically that he couldn't possibly have returned, as Lucius Malfoy was still in Canada, but there was a guttaral feeling that thudded in her chest and she needn't turn around to know that without a doubt, the only man she'd ever physically bonded with was standing behind her.
And just when her life was falling into place, too.
Ginny swallowed. "Malfoy?"
~ End of Chapter 3
A/N* What, you think I'd let go of my cliffies? ^_^ And btw, the person outside of the Burrow was NOT Malfoy. . .at least not Draco Malfoy. Be my guest to venture a guess, but you'll have to stick around to see who it was!
I know there's been a bit of confusion with the last two chapters, but if you don't know exactly what's going on it's supposed to be that way. So keep reading, and it'll eventually be clear.
Now the review button is just ITCHING to be pressed. . .