Authors note: I mean no copyright infringement towards JK Rowling by writing this piece of fanfiction. Here's the (hopefully) anxiously awaited cameo chapter. If you don't find yourself in it somewhere, e-mail me, and I might put you in a later chapter.
Ginny surveyed the room, looking at the people who'd come. For some reason, she hadn't expected this huge of a turnout. It seemed since she had official been appointed Minister that morning, people were scrambling to get on her good side.
The ceremony itself had been simple. A palm placed on the International Confederation of Warlocks Revised Code, then a simple declaration to the ministry, the United Kingdom, and the wizarding world.
The robes Padma had made were simple and stylish. Since the ceremony had take place on the front steps of the Ministry, Padma had designed coordinating cloaks for each of them. Ginny's cloak was simple black, and it went well with the sedate brownish-red color Padma referred to as "aubergine." Angelina's robes were a deep violet matched with a cloak of the same hue, only a few shades lighter. Black robes with a white silk cloak were worn by Hermione. Amazingly tame was Glin, in robes of pristine white, and a cloak of gold. The men wore plain black dress robes.
After the ceremony they'd all apparated home to change into their costumes. Since her friends and family were notorious for being late, she wasn't overly worried that she hadn't seen them at the ball yet.
A hand snuck over her shoulders and squeezed them. It was a brotherly thing to do, and she looked over at Harry. Years ago, his gesture would have been awkward, because of her schoolgirl crush. Now it was natural for him to hug her, as if he were a brother, but without all the sibling rivalry.
"Nice costume," she remarked. Harry was wearing a very plainly cut muggle tuxedo. "Although it didn't require very much research, I suppose. I mean you were raised by muggles."
Harry looked scandalized and began to splutter. "I'm not...a muggle? You actually thought I'd come dressed as a muggle? I'm James Bond! Double-oh-seven! I've got a license to kill! I'm an international man of mystery!"
"Oh," said Ginny in a tone of disinterested astonishment. "From the muggle movies."
"Yes, from the muggle movies," said Hermione as she walked up behind them. I told Harry no one would recognize us."
"No, I recognize you," Ginny told her. Hermione's hair was loose and curled about her face, and her make-up was obvious, yet glamorous. She was wearing a pale blue sparking gown with a slit up the side that almost reached her waist. Tucked into the interior of her occasionally visible garter was a small gun. Hermione's ensemble led Ginny to one conclusion. "You're a singer in a seedy nightclub."
"Good Cripe!" Exclaimed Harry. "She's a Bond girl! I'm Bond, she's with me, therefore..."
Hermione cut him off by kissing him passionately. At his dazed expression she replied. "You were babbling again, Bond."
"Herm, look at Glin!" Ginny gestured across the room to where Glin was chatting animatedly with a leggy woman with honey blond hair.
Glin's short mop of hair was curled into small, delicate ringlets, rather than its usually artfully shaggy look. It was all the same shade of platinum blonde, and it's only adornment was a thin gold circlet. Her dress was a sheath of white silk, gathered at one shoulder in the style of a toga.
Predictably, Glin noticed that someone was staring at her, and began to make her way over to join them as Ron popped up beside them. "What've I missed?"
"Not much. Harry's been pouting, and Glin's on her way over," Hermione summarized. "And what exactly are you supposed to be?"
Ron appeared to be dressed as the ultimate mixed-up fairy tale. He was wearing a simple toga, a bow, quiver of arrows, and wings. "I'm Cupid, God of Love," he explained brandishing an rubber-tipped arrow with a heart painted on its feathers. "What's Glin dressed as? A nudist?"
"Don't you wish," came a voice from the floor. It was McGonagall, dressed as some sort of a Cat-God.
"We're not exactly sure," Ginny told him. "She went with the whole toga thing too. 95% of the damn party went with the toga thing."
By this time, Glin and her companion had picked their way across the room. "Killer ensembles. This is Sheridan, she's with Malkins, but she'll probably be upgrading within the next fiscal year."
Sheridan looked every bit the model. Every strand of her perfect honey blonde hair was in place, although it didn't look like she'd used hair tonic at all. Her dark blue eyes matched her toga and perfectly manicured nails. Her accent was light, but unmistakably southern.
"Sheridan, these are some of my friends. The one in the muggle suit it Harry, that's Herm with him. You know Ginny from the papers, and that's her idiot brother Ron."
Ron rolled his eyes and kissed the top of Sheridan's extended hand. "Enchanted."
Sheridan murmured something indistinct in response. While Ron seemed to be flirting with her, she seemed less than interested in him. She was saved when the rest of the Weasley clan arrived. They hugged Ginny while exchanging pleasantries with her friends.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wandered off as the rest of their little group people-watched. Gillian Fairweather, a medi-wizard they'd met on Christmas eve, was attempting to calm down an irate brunette woman who'd had Butterbeer spilled on her. A very tan girl in a costume from the Victorian era was gossiping with a blonde Egyptian. A young girl dressed as a water-nymph stood with her shoulders slumped against the wall, obviously dragged to the gala by her parents. Dumbledore, who was dressed as a bee was dancing with Tracy Knight, one of Hermione's auror friends, who was dressed almost identically to Sheridan, but her toga was dark green. Maggie Ferran, who was an up and coming witch with the muggle artifacts department was wearing the same ensemble in a deep royal purple and was dancing with Colin Creevey.
Angelina, who was dressed as a warrior goddess, and Alicia, who was radiant as a ladle, walked off to get drinks as Fred, decked out as Tarzan, and George, who was a cauldron, began chatting with a pirate who was making them a business proposal. Bill, who was costumed as the two faced god Janus, invited Sheridan to dance, making Ron's face go all red. Charlie, who was dressed as a knight in full and uncomfortable armor wandered off to lean against a wall and chat with Padma, who was dressed all in black with little silver stars.
Sirius, dressed as the great hunter Orion, came over to say his hellos and drew Harry and Hermione into a conversation about where he'd been hiding for the past few years. Lupin was aptly dressed as Hugin, one of the Norse God Odin's pet wolves. "Hugin was traditionally associated with memory," he told the group, before he and Minnie curled up beneath a table to chat.
Left with only her brother or Glin to talk to, Ginny automatically turned to Glin. "So what're you dressed as?"
"Well, I wanted to be a princess, but the whole Greek/Roman thing is in so I decided to be a princess in a toga. So I'm Psyche, the youngest daughter of a King. Sheridan is Tisiphone, one of the Furies." She looked at Ginny who was holding a hand over her mouth and laughing so hard she was almost out of breath. "What's so funny?"
"Ron...is Cupid," Ginny said in a pant. "Cupid and Psyche were lovers who were almost torn apart by Cupid's mother, Aphrodite. If you're lucky, no's come as Aphrodite."
"No such luck. I saw Fleur earlier. She was all tarted up in a red dress with little heart cut outs. Unless she's come as a rabid valentine, we're in for our own little Greek tragedy here." Glin smacked Ron in the back of the head.
"Hey!" Ron rubbed the back of his head. "What the hell was that for?"
"For coming as Cupid," she told him as if it made perfect sense. "Why couldn't you have come as Prometheus?"
"You fancy me a hero who gave fire to mankind?"
"No, I fancy you someone who has his liver pecked out by birds for all eternity. I've come as Psyche, and Fleur's come as Aphrodite."
"Fleur's here?" Ron said in confusion.
"A little slow on the uptake, aren't we Cupid?"
"But if Fleur's here then she's going to make a scene..." Ron reasoned aloud.
"Let's dance," Glin suggested.
"Isn't that just inviting trouble?" Ron hesitated.
"She's going to be all weird anyway. Why not have fun while we can?"
United by the bond of being scared of a crazy woman, Glin and Ron darted onto the dance floor. Ginny looked after them enviously. They fought like cats and dogs, and even they were having a good time. She wished Neville were there. Even if he'd been awkward and clumsy he'd been better than nothing. Her parents came by and told her that they were heading back to the Burrow, because her father's back was troubling him.
The girl she'd recognized earlier as a water-nymph skulked over in the company of another girl who was dressed as a forest faerie. The forest faerie spoke up when her companion elbowed her. "I'm Maya, and this is my friend Emily, and my...er... Altra. We're wondering what exactly you're dressed as, Ministress-Mistress...?"
"It's just Minister Weasley. Minister is the job title, and it doesn't change just because a woman holds the title," Ginny explained patiently. She'd faced this question an innumerable amount of times in the past few days. As for her costume, she didn't think it was that difficult. After all, Goddesses were "in" according to Glin. "What did you think I was?"
"Well, Altra thought you were probably the sun. I figured something less specific, like fire."
Before Ginny could answer, someone spoke for her.
"It's simple," said the cool voice. "She's Aurora, Goddess of the Sun." Draco looked down at her as she spun to face him. Her pale skin was brought to a rosy glow by the color of the gown she wore. It was magenta, with a short tea-length skirt, and was overlaid with jagged panels of shimmery translucent orange. He thought the colors should have clashed with her red hair, but for some reason it worked. It was a simple costume, that highlighted her beauty rather than trying to enhance it. His eyes hit the girls behind him who were staring at him in silence. "Off you go. The Minister's busy now. And stop pouting Altra. This is the social event of the century. Go find some boy to bother." He watched the wheels turning in the girl's head as her friends tugged on her arm. Altra's parents were Death Eaters, relatively low on the chain of command and therefore unpunished for their crimes against humanity. They were just a few of the people who would have liked to have Draco's hide for betraying the dark lord. Apparently, they'd painted Draco as a loose cannon, someone with no ties and no loyalties, because a small flash of fear hit the girl's eyes before she went back to lurking in the shadows.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on one's perspective, they weren't alone a moment before someone came to invite Ginny to dance. The man was tall, with olive skin and dark hair. "Jet Frangoso," he murmured as he kissed the back of her hand. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me Minister?"
Draco's hand moved possessively over Ginny's arm. She shook it off and walked into Jet's arms. As they danced away, she caught a glimpse of silver eyes darkening with anger.
Bill was absolutely enchanted with the creature he found in his arms for most of the evening. Sheridan was 100 proof Southern Belle. She was beautiful, nice, and had figured out his costume right off the bat. Remarkably, for all her beauty, she was rather shy about it, not wanting to talk about her modeling career much, wanting to know more about him and his family. He eventually steered the conversation back around to her.
"So why is your costume so similar to those other womens?" He was talking about the almost identical ensembles he'd seen in green and purple.
"They're Malkin's originals. She made sure that only three of her customers had the outfit. We're the Erinyes, or Furies. I'm Tisiphone, the girl in purple is Alecto, and the girl in green is Megaera."
"Do you know each other?"
"Only through Madame Malkin. I don't think they're models though."
Bill danced with her awhile longer, before making a date for the next weekend and relinquishing her to one of the teenaged boys who'd been looking to cut in.
Glin found dancing with Ron oddly comfortable. He was too occupied with keeping a lookout for Fleur that he didn't have time to talk. If only he stopped talking more often, they might actually get along. She laid her head on his shoulder and settled closer into his arms. They were really more alike than either of them liked to think. Ron's expenses were paid for by the stock dividends from Three W's that he owned. Her's were paid for by a large trust fund her parents had left her. She wondered exactly what Ron did with his spare time, other than Fleur. Did he carefully schedule almost every minute of the day with club and store openings, making sure he always had something to do? Did he belong to a wizard's chess club? She'd always heard he was rather good at chess. Perhaps she should challenge him sometime.
Ron automatically tightened his arms around her, rocking back and forth in time with the slow, melodic music. He'd thought that she would smell like hair-spray and cheap perfume. Instead, she smelled lightly of citrus, as if she'd dropped a bit of sweet orange oil on her wrists and then left the house. There was a little mole on the side of her neck, only occasionally visible through the shifting ringlets of hair. One of her eyes was a tiny bit bigger than the other, a trait that he'd noticed on almost everyone. He could see why she was being offered a modeling contract. Beneath all the lacquer, she really was quite attractive. The small physical imperfections only made her more attractive. He closed his eyes and reveled in the delight of not fighting with her.
Unfortunately, he was pulled out of his bliss by an insistent tapping on his shoulder. He separated himself slightly from Glin, but continued to dance. Keeping his voice low and calm, he addressed the problem. "Hello, Fleur. Is something wrong?"
"You've taken up with zis tramp, 'aven't you? How dare you cheat on me, Ronald?" She asked angrily.
"Did she just call me a tramp?"
"I'm dealing with it, Glin," Ron told her quietly. "Fleur, I know for a fact you weren't invited. Why don't you go see to your date?"
"Do not get angry with moi for zeeing other men when you prance about with floozies."
Glin's eyes slid past Ron's and focused on Fleur. "If you call me that again, I'll make sure that the press release Ron's prepared chronicling your many inadequacies as a girlfriend and a woman is given to every major fashion magazine before the night is over."
"And who are you to speak for Ronald?" Fleur asked haughtily.
"Your replacement. And unless you want the entire industry to know about you glamouring your cellulite off, I'd suggest you step off."
Although Fleur seemed to be unfamiliar with the American phrase, she seemed to get the gist of Ginny's threat. She flipped her perfect hair over her shoulder and walked away.
"Sorry about the whole replacement bit," Glin said sheepishly. "I guess I took too many acting classes. I just got carried away..."
"I didn't really mind that much," he admitted before pulling her back into his arms.
Ginny was looking over Jet's shoulder, hoping to make eye contact with someone who would come rescue her. It wasn't that Jet was a bad dancer, it was just that his hands kept roaming south of the border. She almost caught Bill's eyes, but he was gazing dreamily at Glin's friend Sheridan. A quick survey of the room found everyone she knew unavailable for saving.
She reached to move Jet's hands again, only to find someone doing it for her. She was quickly extricated from his arms, and found herself standing between a very angry Draco and a very annoyed Jet. Draco looked ready to duel with the other man. "If you want to manhandle something, try your fiance," he said coldly.
"Hey, she didn't seem to mind to much..." Jet said smugly.
"She's mine. You don't touch what's mine, got it?"
"Why don't we let her decide for herself?" Jet said as he winked at Ginny suggestively.
Before Draco could belt him, she grabbed his arm and led him away from Jet. She stepped into his arms to dance, and his arms fastened tightly about her waist. She sighed and wiggled to loosen his grip and put a little bit of distance between them. "If you couldn't act civilized, why did you even come?"
"Because I couldn't stay away," he ground out as if admitting the pull she had over him caused him pain. His eyes looked haunted as he looked down at her. His arms tightened about her once again.
She sighed in defeat and just let herself enjoy being in his arms. They danced until the musicians began to pack up their instruments. She shrugged out of his arms. Her friends were standing in a corner looking concerned, and she started to go to them. He pulled her back into his arms and put his lips to hers. It was different from their last kiss, not about possession, but about longing, and needing.
"Say goodbye to them. You're coming home with me."
"Draco..."
"I warned you what would happen if we were alone together."
"We weren't..."
"When you were in my arms they all disappeared. You know they did Ginny." His voice wasn't commanding, nor cajoling. It was more of a pleading.
She took the long walk across the ballroom alone. But when she arrived amongst her friends, it was time to say goodbye.
Ginny surveyed the room, looking at the people who'd come. For some reason, she hadn't expected this huge of a turnout. It seemed since she had official been appointed Minister that morning, people were scrambling to get on her good side.
The ceremony itself had been simple. A palm placed on the International Confederation of Warlocks Revised Code, then a simple declaration to the ministry, the United Kingdom, and the wizarding world.
The robes Padma had made were simple and stylish. Since the ceremony had take place on the front steps of the Ministry, Padma had designed coordinating cloaks for each of them. Ginny's cloak was simple black, and it went well with the sedate brownish-red color Padma referred to as "aubergine." Angelina's robes were a deep violet matched with a cloak of the same hue, only a few shades lighter. Black robes with a white silk cloak were worn by Hermione. Amazingly tame was Glin, in robes of pristine white, and a cloak of gold. The men wore plain black dress robes.
After the ceremony they'd all apparated home to change into their costumes. Since her friends and family were notorious for being late, she wasn't overly worried that she hadn't seen them at the ball yet.
A hand snuck over her shoulders and squeezed them. It was a brotherly thing to do, and she looked over at Harry. Years ago, his gesture would have been awkward, because of her schoolgirl crush. Now it was natural for him to hug her, as if he were a brother, but without all the sibling rivalry.
"Nice costume," she remarked. Harry was wearing a very plainly cut muggle tuxedo. "Although it didn't require very much research, I suppose. I mean you were raised by muggles."
Harry looked scandalized and began to splutter. "I'm not...a muggle? You actually thought I'd come dressed as a muggle? I'm James Bond! Double-oh-seven! I've got a license to kill! I'm an international man of mystery!"
"Oh," said Ginny in a tone of disinterested astonishment. "From the muggle movies."
"Yes, from the muggle movies," said Hermione as she walked up behind them. I told Harry no one would recognize us."
"No, I recognize you," Ginny told her. Hermione's hair was loose and curled about her face, and her make-up was obvious, yet glamorous. She was wearing a pale blue sparking gown with a slit up the side that almost reached her waist. Tucked into the interior of her occasionally visible garter was a small gun. Hermione's ensemble led Ginny to one conclusion. "You're a singer in a seedy nightclub."
"Good Cripe!" Exclaimed Harry. "She's a Bond girl! I'm Bond, she's with me, therefore..."
Hermione cut him off by kissing him passionately. At his dazed expression she replied. "You were babbling again, Bond."
"Herm, look at Glin!" Ginny gestured across the room to where Glin was chatting animatedly with a leggy woman with honey blond hair.
Glin's short mop of hair was curled into small, delicate ringlets, rather than its usually artfully shaggy look. It was all the same shade of platinum blonde, and it's only adornment was a thin gold circlet. Her dress was a sheath of white silk, gathered at one shoulder in the style of a toga.
Predictably, Glin noticed that someone was staring at her, and began to make her way over to join them as Ron popped up beside them. "What've I missed?"
"Not much. Harry's been pouting, and Glin's on her way over," Hermione summarized. "And what exactly are you supposed to be?"
Ron appeared to be dressed as the ultimate mixed-up fairy tale. He was wearing a simple toga, a bow, quiver of arrows, and wings. "I'm Cupid, God of Love," he explained brandishing an rubber-tipped arrow with a heart painted on its feathers. "What's Glin dressed as? A nudist?"
"Don't you wish," came a voice from the floor. It was McGonagall, dressed as some sort of a Cat-God.
"We're not exactly sure," Ginny told him. "She went with the whole toga thing too. 95% of the damn party went with the toga thing."
By this time, Glin and her companion had picked their way across the room. "Killer ensembles. This is Sheridan, she's with Malkins, but she'll probably be upgrading within the next fiscal year."
Sheridan looked every bit the model. Every strand of her perfect honey blonde hair was in place, although it didn't look like she'd used hair tonic at all. Her dark blue eyes matched her toga and perfectly manicured nails. Her accent was light, but unmistakably southern.
"Sheridan, these are some of my friends. The one in the muggle suit it Harry, that's Herm with him. You know Ginny from the papers, and that's her idiot brother Ron."
Ron rolled his eyes and kissed the top of Sheridan's extended hand. "Enchanted."
Sheridan murmured something indistinct in response. While Ron seemed to be flirting with her, she seemed less than interested in him. She was saved when the rest of the Weasley clan arrived. They hugged Ginny while exchanging pleasantries with her friends.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wandered off as the rest of their little group people-watched. Gillian Fairweather, a medi-wizard they'd met on Christmas eve, was attempting to calm down an irate brunette woman who'd had Butterbeer spilled on her. A very tan girl in a costume from the Victorian era was gossiping with a blonde Egyptian. A young girl dressed as a water-nymph stood with her shoulders slumped against the wall, obviously dragged to the gala by her parents. Dumbledore, who was dressed as a bee was dancing with Tracy Knight, one of Hermione's auror friends, who was dressed almost identically to Sheridan, but her toga was dark green. Maggie Ferran, who was an up and coming witch with the muggle artifacts department was wearing the same ensemble in a deep royal purple and was dancing with Colin Creevey.
Angelina, who was dressed as a warrior goddess, and Alicia, who was radiant as a ladle, walked off to get drinks as Fred, decked out as Tarzan, and George, who was a cauldron, began chatting with a pirate who was making them a business proposal. Bill, who was costumed as the two faced god Janus, invited Sheridan to dance, making Ron's face go all red. Charlie, who was dressed as a knight in full and uncomfortable armor wandered off to lean against a wall and chat with Padma, who was dressed all in black with little silver stars.
Sirius, dressed as the great hunter Orion, came over to say his hellos and drew Harry and Hermione into a conversation about where he'd been hiding for the past few years. Lupin was aptly dressed as Hugin, one of the Norse God Odin's pet wolves. "Hugin was traditionally associated with memory," he told the group, before he and Minnie curled up beneath a table to chat.
Left with only her brother or Glin to talk to, Ginny automatically turned to Glin. "So what're you dressed as?"
"Well, I wanted to be a princess, but the whole Greek/Roman thing is in so I decided to be a princess in a toga. So I'm Psyche, the youngest daughter of a King. Sheridan is Tisiphone, one of the Furies." She looked at Ginny who was holding a hand over her mouth and laughing so hard she was almost out of breath. "What's so funny?"
"Ron...is Cupid," Ginny said in a pant. "Cupid and Psyche were lovers who were almost torn apart by Cupid's mother, Aphrodite. If you're lucky, no's come as Aphrodite."
"No such luck. I saw Fleur earlier. She was all tarted up in a red dress with little heart cut outs. Unless she's come as a rabid valentine, we're in for our own little Greek tragedy here." Glin smacked Ron in the back of the head.
"Hey!" Ron rubbed the back of his head. "What the hell was that for?"
"For coming as Cupid," she told him as if it made perfect sense. "Why couldn't you have come as Prometheus?"
"You fancy me a hero who gave fire to mankind?"
"No, I fancy you someone who has his liver pecked out by birds for all eternity. I've come as Psyche, and Fleur's come as Aphrodite."
"Fleur's here?" Ron said in confusion.
"A little slow on the uptake, aren't we Cupid?"
"But if Fleur's here then she's going to make a scene..." Ron reasoned aloud.
"Let's dance," Glin suggested.
"Isn't that just inviting trouble?" Ron hesitated.
"She's going to be all weird anyway. Why not have fun while we can?"
United by the bond of being scared of a crazy woman, Glin and Ron darted onto the dance floor. Ginny looked after them enviously. They fought like cats and dogs, and even they were having a good time. She wished Neville were there. Even if he'd been awkward and clumsy he'd been better than nothing. Her parents came by and told her that they were heading back to the Burrow, because her father's back was troubling him.
The girl she'd recognized earlier as a water-nymph skulked over in the company of another girl who was dressed as a forest faerie. The forest faerie spoke up when her companion elbowed her. "I'm Maya, and this is my friend Emily, and my...er... Altra. We're wondering what exactly you're dressed as, Ministress-Mistress...?"
"It's just Minister Weasley. Minister is the job title, and it doesn't change just because a woman holds the title," Ginny explained patiently. She'd faced this question an innumerable amount of times in the past few days. As for her costume, she didn't think it was that difficult. After all, Goddesses were "in" according to Glin. "What did you think I was?"
"Well, Altra thought you were probably the sun. I figured something less specific, like fire."
Before Ginny could answer, someone spoke for her.
"It's simple," said the cool voice. "She's Aurora, Goddess of the Sun." Draco looked down at her as she spun to face him. Her pale skin was brought to a rosy glow by the color of the gown she wore. It was magenta, with a short tea-length skirt, and was overlaid with jagged panels of shimmery translucent orange. He thought the colors should have clashed with her red hair, but for some reason it worked. It was a simple costume, that highlighted her beauty rather than trying to enhance it. His eyes hit the girls behind him who were staring at him in silence. "Off you go. The Minister's busy now. And stop pouting Altra. This is the social event of the century. Go find some boy to bother." He watched the wheels turning in the girl's head as her friends tugged on her arm. Altra's parents were Death Eaters, relatively low on the chain of command and therefore unpunished for their crimes against humanity. They were just a few of the people who would have liked to have Draco's hide for betraying the dark lord. Apparently, they'd painted Draco as a loose cannon, someone with no ties and no loyalties, because a small flash of fear hit the girl's eyes before she went back to lurking in the shadows.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on one's perspective, they weren't alone a moment before someone came to invite Ginny to dance. The man was tall, with olive skin and dark hair. "Jet Frangoso," he murmured as he kissed the back of her hand. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me Minister?"
Draco's hand moved possessively over Ginny's arm. She shook it off and walked into Jet's arms. As they danced away, she caught a glimpse of silver eyes darkening with anger.
Bill was absolutely enchanted with the creature he found in his arms for most of the evening. Sheridan was 100 proof Southern Belle. She was beautiful, nice, and had figured out his costume right off the bat. Remarkably, for all her beauty, she was rather shy about it, not wanting to talk about her modeling career much, wanting to know more about him and his family. He eventually steered the conversation back around to her.
"So why is your costume so similar to those other womens?" He was talking about the almost identical ensembles he'd seen in green and purple.
"They're Malkin's originals. She made sure that only three of her customers had the outfit. We're the Erinyes, or Furies. I'm Tisiphone, the girl in purple is Alecto, and the girl in green is Megaera."
"Do you know each other?"
"Only through Madame Malkin. I don't think they're models though."
Bill danced with her awhile longer, before making a date for the next weekend and relinquishing her to one of the teenaged boys who'd been looking to cut in.
Glin found dancing with Ron oddly comfortable. He was too occupied with keeping a lookout for Fleur that he didn't have time to talk. If only he stopped talking more often, they might actually get along. She laid her head on his shoulder and settled closer into his arms. They were really more alike than either of them liked to think. Ron's expenses were paid for by the stock dividends from Three W's that he owned. Her's were paid for by a large trust fund her parents had left her. She wondered exactly what Ron did with his spare time, other than Fleur. Did he carefully schedule almost every minute of the day with club and store openings, making sure he always had something to do? Did he belong to a wizard's chess club? She'd always heard he was rather good at chess. Perhaps she should challenge him sometime.
Ron automatically tightened his arms around her, rocking back and forth in time with the slow, melodic music. He'd thought that she would smell like hair-spray and cheap perfume. Instead, she smelled lightly of citrus, as if she'd dropped a bit of sweet orange oil on her wrists and then left the house. There was a little mole on the side of her neck, only occasionally visible through the shifting ringlets of hair. One of her eyes was a tiny bit bigger than the other, a trait that he'd noticed on almost everyone. He could see why she was being offered a modeling contract. Beneath all the lacquer, she really was quite attractive. The small physical imperfections only made her more attractive. He closed his eyes and reveled in the delight of not fighting with her.
Unfortunately, he was pulled out of his bliss by an insistent tapping on his shoulder. He separated himself slightly from Glin, but continued to dance. Keeping his voice low and calm, he addressed the problem. "Hello, Fleur. Is something wrong?"
"You've taken up with zis tramp, 'aven't you? How dare you cheat on me, Ronald?" She asked angrily.
"Did she just call me a tramp?"
"I'm dealing with it, Glin," Ron told her quietly. "Fleur, I know for a fact you weren't invited. Why don't you go see to your date?"
"Do not get angry with moi for zeeing other men when you prance about with floozies."
Glin's eyes slid past Ron's and focused on Fleur. "If you call me that again, I'll make sure that the press release Ron's prepared chronicling your many inadequacies as a girlfriend and a woman is given to every major fashion magazine before the night is over."
"And who are you to speak for Ronald?" Fleur asked haughtily.
"Your replacement. And unless you want the entire industry to know about you glamouring your cellulite off, I'd suggest you step off."
Although Fleur seemed to be unfamiliar with the American phrase, she seemed to get the gist of Ginny's threat. She flipped her perfect hair over her shoulder and walked away.
"Sorry about the whole replacement bit," Glin said sheepishly. "I guess I took too many acting classes. I just got carried away..."
"I didn't really mind that much," he admitted before pulling her back into his arms.
Ginny was looking over Jet's shoulder, hoping to make eye contact with someone who would come rescue her. It wasn't that Jet was a bad dancer, it was just that his hands kept roaming south of the border. She almost caught Bill's eyes, but he was gazing dreamily at Glin's friend Sheridan. A quick survey of the room found everyone she knew unavailable for saving.
She reached to move Jet's hands again, only to find someone doing it for her. She was quickly extricated from his arms, and found herself standing between a very angry Draco and a very annoyed Jet. Draco looked ready to duel with the other man. "If you want to manhandle something, try your fiance," he said coldly.
"Hey, she didn't seem to mind to much..." Jet said smugly.
"She's mine. You don't touch what's mine, got it?"
"Why don't we let her decide for herself?" Jet said as he winked at Ginny suggestively.
Before Draco could belt him, she grabbed his arm and led him away from Jet. She stepped into his arms to dance, and his arms fastened tightly about her waist. She sighed and wiggled to loosen his grip and put a little bit of distance between them. "If you couldn't act civilized, why did you even come?"
"Because I couldn't stay away," he ground out as if admitting the pull she had over him caused him pain. His eyes looked haunted as he looked down at her. His arms tightened about her once again.
She sighed in defeat and just let herself enjoy being in his arms. They danced until the musicians began to pack up their instruments. She shrugged out of his arms. Her friends were standing in a corner looking concerned, and she started to go to them. He pulled her back into his arms and put his lips to hers. It was different from their last kiss, not about possession, but about longing, and needing.
"Say goodbye to them. You're coming home with me."
"Draco..."
"I warned you what would happen if we were alone together."
"We weren't..."
"When you were in my arms they all disappeared. You know they did Ginny." His voice wasn't commanding, nor cajoling. It was more of a pleading.
She took the long walk across the ballroom alone. But when she arrived amongst her friends, it was time to say goodbye.