Legend
Chapter XXVIII: On Holiday
By Marie McKinnon
Ginny leapt lightly off of the school train, hopping out of the way for her trunk to land at her heels with a clatter. "Well, I suppose I'll see you in September," she said, releasing the handle of her trunk and flexing her hand. "Have a good holiday."
"I certainly will. I'm coming with you," Draco told her.
Had she still been holding her trunk upright, it would have fallen on her foot. She eyed him suspiciously, mistrust obvious in her expression. Her parents would never allow him to stay, she was positive, because their families were feuding. What cards could he have pulled to get them to agree?
"If this is some complex prank, I refuse to be your victim. Go find Harry or Creevey."
Mrs. Weasley, looking harried, bustled over and nodded at both students. "Ginny, Draco, come over here, we're using Floo to get home. Oh, it's 'The Burrow,' by the way," she added.
"How did you ever get Mum and Dad to agree to let you stay?" She muttered, lugging her trunk behind her.
He shrugged. "Once they realized I'd been disowned because I helped you, they were only too willing to do me a favor. I'm actually rather glad I'm not Malfoy any more. It means 'bad faith,' and I didn't like that insinuation." Bowing deeply, he added "May I present Draco du Cavalier, or just plain Draco Cavalier, milady?"
A regal nod was his response, but her serious expression only lasted a moment before she burst out laughing. "What's that mean, then?"
"All together, I'm 'the knight's dragon,'" he explained. "Thought it was clever, considering the new predicament I've managed to get myself into. The Burrow!"
Still giggling, Ginny followed, appearing in the living room and dusting herself off vigorously. On looking up, she smothered even more giggles. Draco, who always was impeccably dressed and perfectly neat and clean, had black, powdery streaks of soot in his white-blond hair.
"You have soot in your hair," they said in unison.
Mrs. Weasley appeared a moment later, bearing a large clothes-brush. She saw that neither of the two teenagers had any trouble with their clothes, put away her clothes-brush, and sent them upstairs to the washroom. Walking upstairs behind Ginny, he looked around at the neat, tidy chambers, tasteful colour choices, and simple decorating schemes. Most of the rooms were an off-white, lit by magical light globes hovering near the ceiling, and had smooth wooden floors. Stone fireplaces and mantles gave way to comfortable-looking plush armchairs and a giant sofa, strewn with overstuffed pillows. It wasn't nearly as shabby as he would have expected, but he had thought without the aid of Fred and George, whose ideal job, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, had been an immediate success. Finally at the landing, he saw a washroom to his left, and stepped in to scrub his hands and hair. A white sink turned blackish immediately from the concealed soot embedded in his palms.
"Gin, could I please have a-- thank you," he said, taking the comb she'd handed him without his having to ask.
Pulling out a hairbrush, she smirked at him. "I'm surprised you don't keep one with you at all times." She coiled her long ringlets into a chignon at the base of her neck, securing it with several pins and a hair tie.
"I only fix other people's hair. For example," he returned, turning her to face him, " you need to have a lock or two hanging in your eyes. That way it doesn't look so severe."
"Thanks, I think."
*
After dinner, which had consisted of numerous sizzling sausages, thick slices of bread slathered with butter, and home-made ice cream, Mrs. Weasley drew Ginny aside. "It's lovely to have you home, dear," she began, looking nervous.
"I'm glad to be home."
She pulled a flattish box out of her robe pocket with a reverent smile. "I usually would have waited until you got married for this, but I'd like you to--"
"Try on the necklace?" Ginny suggested, inwardly furious. How dare her own mum not trust her with something as important as that? A relieved nod confirmed her suspicion. "All right, then, may I have it, please?"
"Of course," said Mrs. Weasley, hoping, fearing, and praying that her worries weren't about to be justified.
Ginny heard the catch click and let her hands fall away from her neck. Looking down, she saw a strand of perfectly round, perfectly white pearls glistening softly against her skin. Her mum looked as though the weight of the world had been taken off her shoulders and she sighed audibly.
"Mum," she asked quietly, fingering the pearls, "do you trust me?"
"Why, of course I do, dear. I'll always trust you."
Unclasping the necklace and handing it back to her mum, Ginny said "But you made me try it on nonetheless. If you'd trusted me, you would have asked me and believed my answer instead of making it evident that you thought I'd be willing to lie." She was calm, unmovingly so, but the disquiet on her mother's face was the exact opposite.
"I couldn't be sure," Mrs. Weasley tried to explain, "that *he* hadn't asked you to lie."
"Why would he do that?"
The famous Weasley temper had skipped over Ginny, but it seemed to have been embedded in Molly after she'd gotten married. "BECAUSE HE'S A BLOODY MALFOY!" She shouted. "THEY'RE ALL MANIPULATIVE B******S WITHOUT ANY CONCERN AT ALL FOR THE REST OF THE MAGICAL COMMUNITY!"
Now visibly shaking with anger, Ginny had enough self-control to refrain from strangling her mother. Her fingers itched to release some of her magic and pin the furious witch to the wall, but she fought it down. She barely kept a hold on her anger, leaving a speechless mother in the room alone with only her words for comfort.
"I think he heard you."
*
The atmosphere in the Weasley house was rather tense for the next few days. Ginny took every possible opportunity to escape from her mother's clutches and do her homework outside, usually accompanied by her knight in shining armor. Though she watched her mum unceasingly, waiting for a signal of repentance, Mrs. Weasley observed the pair. She found nothing wrong with Draco's behaviour; in fact, she saw slight courtesies in his attitude toward her daughter that were quite amusing. Almost absently, he held doors open for her, pulled her chair out from under the dinner table for her before seating himself, and waited until she had put herself at ease in one of the plush armchairs to do so.
There was nothing in their manners that revealed anything more than a fresh, light affection, sometimes nearer devotion or tenderness. It was obvious from the way his arm seemed to have been made to rest comfortably around her waist, the way it did so with such ease, and the softness with which they regarded each other. To put it simply, they just fit together perfectly, laughs blending in a joyous harmony at some wayward jest or comment.
Molly could find nothing wrong with their relationship, hard as she tried, and that frustrated her to no end. "She's hiding something from me, I know it," she complained to Arthur one evening when all the children had gone to sleep.
"If she is, she's hiding it very well. You know she's not been doing anything out of line with Draco, her marks were very high, she looks happy and healthy, and she seems to have sprung back amazingly quickly from poor Ingrid and Frances' deaths. There isn't anything she would hide from us, because there's nothing unusual happening that has anything to do with her."
How unbelievably wrong he was.
*
"I'm really getting sick of Mum," Ginny confided to Draco once they had gotten far enough away from the Burrow. "She's hated the Malfoys for years because they said anyone who wasn't pure-blood was inferior. In all, she loathed their prejudices, but now she's become prejudiced against them just because they're Malfoys. It's ridiculous, and I can't let myself get angry at her. You know what would happen then."
He watched her outburst slow down, then reminded her "It's not completely untrue. I didn't mind that she said that about the Malfoys, mostly because I'm technically not a Malfoy anymore. Had I been, however, she would have found herself in rather a nasty position," he chortled.
"I need to practise the magic," she told him. "Can we get really far from the house so I can help you? You've given me a lot of help with the hand-to-hand combat, but I've done nothing for you in return, and I'm beginning to feel a bit guilty."
"Lead away, Professor!"
Disclaimer: Not mine, JKs, so if I admit it, why sue me? It's not like you'd get much.
Ginny leapt lightly off of the school train, hopping out of the way for her trunk to land at her heels with a clatter. "Well, I suppose I'll see you in September," she said, releasing the handle of her trunk and flexing her hand. "Have a good holiday."
"I certainly will. I'm coming with you," Draco told her.
Had she still been holding her trunk upright, it would have fallen on her foot. She eyed him suspiciously, mistrust obvious in her expression. Her parents would never allow him to stay, she was positive, because their families were feuding. What cards could he have pulled to get them to agree?
"If this is some complex prank, I refuse to be your victim. Go find Harry or Creevey."
Mrs. Weasley, looking harried, bustled over and nodded at both students. "Ginny, Draco, come over here, we're using Floo to get home. Oh, it's 'The Burrow,' by the way," she added.
"How did you ever get Mum and Dad to agree to let you stay?" She muttered, lugging her trunk behind her.
He shrugged. "Once they realized I'd been disowned because I helped you, they were only too willing to do me a favor. I'm actually rather glad I'm not Malfoy any more. It means 'bad faith,' and I didn't like that insinuation." Bowing deeply, he added "May I present Draco du Cavalier, or just plain Draco Cavalier, milady?"
A regal nod was his response, but her serious expression only lasted a moment before she burst out laughing. "What's that mean, then?"
"All together, I'm 'the knight's dragon,'" he explained. "Thought it was clever, considering the new predicament I've managed to get myself into. The Burrow!"
Still giggling, Ginny followed, appearing in the living room and dusting herself off vigorously. On looking up, she smothered even more giggles. Draco, who always was impeccably dressed and perfectly neat and clean, had black, powdery streaks of soot in his white-blond hair.
"You have soot in your hair," they said in unison.
Mrs. Weasley appeared a moment later, bearing a large clothes-brush. She saw that neither of the two teenagers had any trouble with their clothes, put away her clothes-brush, and sent them upstairs to the washroom. Walking upstairs behind Ginny, he looked around at the neat, tidy chambers, tasteful colour choices, and simple decorating schemes. Most of the rooms were an off-white, lit by magical light globes hovering near the ceiling, and had smooth wooden floors. Stone fireplaces and mantles gave way to comfortable-looking plush armchairs and a giant sofa, strewn with overstuffed pillows. It wasn't nearly as shabby as he would have expected, but he had thought without the aid of Fred and George, whose ideal job, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, had been an immediate success. Finally at the landing, he saw a washroom to his left, and stepped in to scrub his hands and hair. A white sink turned blackish immediately from the concealed soot embedded in his palms.
"Gin, could I please have a-- thank you," he said, taking the comb she'd handed him without his having to ask.
Pulling out a hairbrush, she smirked at him. "I'm surprised you don't keep one with you at all times." She coiled her long ringlets into a chignon at the base of her neck, securing it with several pins and a hair tie.
"I only fix other people's hair. For example," he returned, turning her to face him, " you need to have a lock or two hanging in your eyes. That way it doesn't look so severe."
"Thanks, I think."
*
After dinner, which had consisted of numerous sizzling sausages, thick slices of bread slathered with butter, and home-made ice cream, Mrs. Weasley drew Ginny aside. "It's lovely to have you home, dear," she began, looking nervous.
"I'm glad to be home."
She pulled a flattish box out of her robe pocket with a reverent smile. "I usually would have waited until you got married for this, but I'd like you to--"
"Try on the necklace?" Ginny suggested, inwardly furious. How dare her own mum not trust her with something as important as that? A relieved nod confirmed her suspicion. "All right, then, may I have it, please?"
"Of course," said Mrs. Weasley, hoping, fearing, and praying that her worries weren't about to be justified.
Ginny heard the catch click and let her hands fall away from her neck. Looking down, she saw a strand of perfectly round, perfectly white pearls glistening softly against her skin. Her mum looked as though the weight of the world had been taken off her shoulders and she sighed audibly.
"Mum," she asked quietly, fingering the pearls, "do you trust me?"
"Why, of course I do, dear. I'll always trust you."
Unclasping the necklace and handing it back to her mum, Ginny said "But you made me try it on nonetheless. If you'd trusted me, you would have asked me and believed my answer instead of making it evident that you thought I'd be willing to lie." She was calm, unmovingly so, but the disquiet on her mother's face was the exact opposite.
"I couldn't be sure," Mrs. Weasley tried to explain, "that *he* hadn't asked you to lie."
"Why would he do that?"
The famous Weasley temper had skipped over Ginny, but it seemed to have been embedded in Molly after she'd gotten married. "BECAUSE HE'S A BLOODY MALFOY!" She shouted. "THEY'RE ALL MANIPULATIVE B******S WITHOUT ANY CONCERN AT ALL FOR THE REST OF THE MAGICAL COMMUNITY!"
Now visibly shaking with anger, Ginny had enough self-control to refrain from strangling her mother. Her fingers itched to release some of her magic and pin the furious witch to the wall, but she fought it down. She barely kept a hold on her anger, leaving a speechless mother in the room alone with only her words for comfort.
"I think he heard you."
*
The atmosphere in the Weasley house was rather tense for the next few days. Ginny took every possible opportunity to escape from her mother's clutches and do her homework outside, usually accompanied by her knight in shining armor. Though she watched her mum unceasingly, waiting for a signal of repentance, Mrs. Weasley observed the pair. She found nothing wrong with Draco's behaviour; in fact, she saw slight courtesies in his attitude toward her daughter that were quite amusing. Almost absently, he held doors open for her, pulled her chair out from under the dinner table for her before seating himself, and waited until she had put herself at ease in one of the plush armchairs to do so.
There was nothing in their manners that revealed anything more than a fresh, light affection, sometimes nearer devotion or tenderness. It was obvious from the way his arm seemed to have been made to rest comfortably around her waist, the way it did so with such ease, and the softness with which they regarded each other. To put it simply, they just fit together perfectly, laughs blending in a joyous harmony at some wayward jest or comment.
Molly could find nothing wrong with their relationship, hard as she tried, and that frustrated her to no end. "She's hiding something from me, I know it," she complained to Arthur one evening when all the children had gone to sleep.
"If she is, she's hiding it very well. You know she's not been doing anything out of line with Draco, her marks were very high, she looks happy and healthy, and she seems to have sprung back amazingly quickly from poor Ingrid and Frances' deaths. There isn't anything she would hide from us, because there's nothing unusual happening that has anything to do with her."
How unbelievably wrong he was.
*
"I'm really getting sick of Mum," Ginny confided to Draco once they had gotten far enough away from the Burrow. "She's hated the Malfoys for years because they said anyone who wasn't pure-blood was inferior. In all, she loathed their prejudices, but now she's become prejudiced against them just because they're Malfoys. It's ridiculous, and I can't let myself get angry at her. You know what would happen then."
He watched her outburst slow down, then reminded her "It's not completely untrue. I didn't mind that she said that about the Malfoys, mostly because I'm technically not a Malfoy anymore. Had I been, however, she would have found herself in rather a nasty position," he chortled.
"I need to practise the magic," she told him. "Can we get really far from the house so I can help you? You've given me a lot of help with the hand-to-hand combat, but I've done nothing for you in return, and I'm beginning to feel a bit guilty."
"Lead away, Professor!"
Disclaimer: Not mine, JKs, so if I admit it, why sue me? It's not like you'd get much.