Crawling
Chapter Five
Dinner went on without incident. Well, perhaps that is the wrong phrasing. Of course there was incident. Four representatives from the four most powerful families in the international Wizarding World were present at a dinner with one self-righteous Weasley. Incident is inevitable.
However, the incidents were small and, while not unnoticeable, did not warrant conversation or over-thought. Nothing that could not be overlooked easily enough…more than I had been hoping for anyway.
Weasley, well…she didn't exactly blow everyone away, but she held her own. She didn't run out of the room crying at any point during the dinner—so that's a definite step forward. Which reminds me, I was going to have to make sure that Weasley doesn't find out about Donaldson's role in her brother's death, because that just wouldn't be good for business. It's hard to explain to your potential business partners why your supposed fiancée is attempting to kill them. It just makes for awkward conversation.
As dinner adjourned I linked Weasley's arm with my own, thus signifying for each couple to respectively retire for the evening.
"Gentlemen," I said with finality, "if you will excuse us for the remainder of the evening. We shall look forward to your presence at breakfast."
"Of course," Donaldson replied as he helped his wife out of her chair. "Goodnight Malfoy," he tipped his head in my direction before walking over to Ginny. He placed a light kiss on her hand, "Have a good evening, Miss Weasley."
"You as well," she responded quietly.
I nodded to each of them before leading her out of the room. I did not miss her look of protest as I forced her into my room.
With the door shut she turned to me, anger evident in her eyes. "I would like to go to my room now, Malfoy."
"You never know who is watching, Weasley. I refuse to botch this on your want to be in your room—which, consequently, is my room, as I own it. I have no interest in taking advantage of you or whatever else is going through your mind at the moment. My bed is very large, or if you prefer, my sofa is rather comfortable."
"How gallant of you," she sneered, "offer me the sofa instead of taking it yourself."
I shrugged. It was my room, my home, my money that was paying her. There was no way I was sleeping on the sofa. I offered to allow her to share my bed—what more did she want? She couldn't be discovered sleeping in a different room, "love problems" were the last thing I needed to appear to be having.
"The choice is up to you, dear," I said and reveled in her flinch at the last word.
"Whatever," she mumbled finally, "I'll take the sofa. There's no way I'm sleeping in the same bed as you—that seems like it should be a sin of some sort."
I raised an eyebrow at her while deliberately attempting to provoke her. "You never know, Weasley. I think you'll find that once you share my bed you'll never be able to go back. But have a nice night on the sofa."
She glared before stalking over to the sofa and throwing herself down on it. I'm fairly sure that I heard a "fuck off," but I cannot be entirely sure.
The sunlight streamed across my face, awaking me slowly. I stretched but was careful not to move the woman resting on my shoulder—Wait a minute…I didn't go to bed with anyone last night.
It was Weasley. Well, now that is interesting. Guess little miss "sleeping with you is a sin" couldn't hack the sofa. Unfortunately, it took me a moment to realize that she was on me, as in touching me…completely unacceptable.
I immediately shrugged her off and sat up in the bed. The action woke her up and her eyes searched the room apprehensively.
She gasped upon seeing me and pulled the sheets up to her chin. "What are you doing in my bed?!"
"Correction, my bed. And you found your own way here, Weasley, so kindly find your way back out."
"I—how did I get…" she trailed off.
I noticed her obvious stare at my bare chest and smirked, "Told you that you'd enjoy sharing my bed."
"I did not—"
"You were attempting to cuddle with me, Weasley. And, for future reference, Malfoys don't cuddle, so refrain yourself."
She glared at me indignantly, "Don't flatter yourself; this will not be a repeat performance. Ever."
"They all say that in the beginning, Weasley."
She promptly screamed and removed herself from my bed. I sighed and swiftly moved to block the doorway.
"Let me out!"
"No. Stop being childish, Weasley."
"I am not being childish." She then proceeded to bang her fists against my chest, to which I picked her up and tossed her back on the bed.
I grabbed a hold of her wrists and positioned them over her head. "Listen hard, Weasley, because I'm only going to inform you of this once. I do not accept temper tantrums. You are an adult, I am an adult. We dislike each other, yes, but we also have an agreement. So get over yourself and act your bloody age or you will not like the results, I promise you. Do you understand?"
She glared up at me, "Perfectly. I understand that you are an insufferable prat…always have been, always will be."
"You see, Weasley, there in lies your problem—you are far too emotional. I may be a 'prat,' yes, but you are a bitch. And you don't see me pitching a fit about it. When you think about it, we really should get along quite splendidly. A bitch and a prat: a reasonable match."
"You—"
"Stop talking. We are done, Weasley. You will at least pretend to respect me because I am paying you. And if that isn't enough incentive for you, then you will respect me because if you don't then I'll go out of my way to make sure that every aspect of your life that you enjoy becomes significantly nonexistent."
I released her wrists and eased off the bed. She sat up slowly as the anger faded from her features. "I feel sorry for you, Malfoy."
I must say, of all the things I expected to come out of her vile little mouth…that was not one of them. "You feel sympathy for me? I do not need your, nor anyone else's sympathy, Weasley."
She raised an eyebrow in speculation, "I think you do," she responded quietly. "I think that you'll always be that little boy that had all the money in the world…but not one friend."
I nearly laughed. So she was one of those women. The kind that looks at a, quote unquote, "bad boy" and sees that if you look deep down, he's really not so bad. Well, I am. There is no little boy begging for love in the depths of my soul, there is only greed. And I'm absolutely fine with that—what's love going to get you, after all?
But no matter, if she wanted to believe that…then so be it. As I said before, I have no qualms with lying to people; I do it on a regular basis. "Maybe you're right, Weasley," I said with my eyes downcast, "but you don't care, not really. I've lived alone for many years, without the love or consideration of even a servant; I'll be fine for many more."
She stared blankly up at me. "That is the single biggest load of bullshit that I have ever heard. Do you really expect me to buy that?"
"Buy what?" I asked.
"That you care if you have the 'love or consideration' of anyone. I was stating a fact, Malfoy, about your character. I didn't mean to allow the impression that I was searching for some sort of goodness in you—I already know that there is none. I do feel sorry for you, I meant that, but that does not mean that I plan to act on it in any way. I couldn't care less if you rotted in this awful place."
I glared at her, façade gone. "Breakfast begins shortly, see that you're ready."
I stalked out of the room and into my second bedroom. I'd be damned if I was going to stay in there a second longer with her. Who did she think she was? A Weasley feeling sorry for me—it was really too much.
Weasley at least had the common sense to wait in the hall for me to take her to breakfast. I carefully gave no expression as I took her arm and walked down to the Dining Hall.
My six guests were all ready present and seated at the table. I nodded to each and pulled Weasley's chair out for her before taking my own. I noticed with farther observation that Bates appeared to have gotten no sleep at all. In short—he looked like shit. But for what reason could this be? What kept my dear guest up all night?
I turn to each of the others. Donaldson and his wife were well-rested. Bate's wife simply looked bored, Bolander was fine—Bolander's wife, however, had circles under her eyes that she had forgotten to hide. Bingo. It would have been too much of a coincidence for Bates and Bolander's wife to have insomnia separately. They were up together…doing what, I would be sure to find out.
I smirk and tuck the information away for future reference; it could only come in handy. If there is one thing that my father taught me (well, one useful thing, anyway) it is that there are only enemies.
Companionship—and by companionship, I mean sex—does not lead to attachment. Use a common whore, he had always said, Lord knows that they have a few tricks or two. As for friendship…who needs it? Friends are only enemies in disguise, had been his advice to me. And he was right, friends only lead to trouble. They distract you and make you think of things other than the tasks at hand. We are always at war, and if you take your mind off that war for even two seconds, you lose.
Same goes for business partners. Business partners are a tricky thing. A certain amount of trust must be given in order to have one in full. However, trust is something that I do not exactly believe in. Trust is vulnerability, and vulnerability is unacceptable. Again, it will only break you financially-wise. And if you're poor, then what use is it to go on living?
I suppose that is why Weasley and I differ so drastically. She views money as something wholly unimportant, I obviously think otherwise. Weasleys, idealistic bunch…money is the only thing of significance in life; it is the only thing that is real. You can reach out and touch money; you may see it for yourself. Things like faith and love—they are theories, plan and simple. Foolish people believe in them, and even more foolish people fall victim to them.
It was obvious that men like Donaldson and my father married for status only. It completes the look to have an attractive woman at your side; it causes your social life to come full circle. I knew that I would have to marry eventually; I simply did not look forward to it.
Would she be blonde, you may wonder. No, Malfoys are not as shallow as all that. Americans seem to epitomize beauty in blondes only, but we know that to be less than true. There are ugly blondes just as there are ugly brunettes, and ugly redheads. So long as a woman is more beautiful than any other in the area, comes from money, and will behave herself in society as well as in private, she could be my potential wife.
I drifted out of my thoughts, though, and focused my attention at the present situation. Weasley appeared agitated with me—didn't take her long this morning.
"Draco, sweetheart," she gritted out, "shall you call upon breakfast, or would you rather I complete the task? I am sure our guests are starving."
Presumptuous women…I cannot stand them. Bolander's wife, however, appeared to be more than thrilled with Weasley's comment.
"Men," the infuriating woman said with a smile, "you have to always keep track of them, right, Ginny?"
Ginny returned her smile, "I do try."
Bates lazily turned his head toward me, "I see your fiancé is a budding Jacqueline, Malfoy."
"I assure you she is nothing of the sort."
Weasley and Bolander's wife appeared offended at this.
"I'll thank you both to recall that my wife is the only woman here whom attended University," Bolander spoke up. "And I see no appeal in a woman of silent surrender—a complete and total bore, wouldn't you agree, Jonathon?"
"Of course," Bates muttered lowly.
Bolander's wife was speaking once more to Weasley. "You'll have to forgive Jonathon," she said with resignation, "he is quite the ogre in the morning…and in the afternoon…as well as the evenings."
Weasley grinned widely at her, "Draco as well. I caught him attempting to torch a small village just the other day."
Small comments and looks, I can overlook. However, Weasley knew the lines, and she also knew that she had crossed one. I cannot allow disobedience to go unpunished; it will only inspire her to do it more often.
I cleared my throat noticeably and raised an eyebrow at her. She held my gaze but said no more.
"Well," Donaldson said after a moment, "I do believe that I am not hungry after all." He stood and his wife immediately followed suit.
"I lost my appetite long ago," Bates said. "Come, Cady."
"She isn't a damn dog," Bolander's wife muttered.
"Marc, do learn to control your wife," Bates responded. "Perhaps a muzzle would do the trick."
"Jonathon has one you can borrow, I'm sure," Bolander's wife shot back.
"Jackie," Bolander said quietly, thus silencing her. "I believe that breakfast is over." I did not miss the irony that breakfast had never indeed begun.
It was a matter of courtesy that each man take his wife and leave me to discipline Weasley. They were all raised in a manner similar to my own childhood, women have no place to talk of their husbands or fiancés in the way Weasley had. Perhaps Bolander allowed his wife such liberties, but he knew the unwritten code as well as the others.
His wife, however, seemed to allow no such courtesy. "I am not going anywhere," she said shortly.
"Typical," Bates responded.
She glared at him, "I refuse to just sit here idly while you all go by the barbaric tendencies of your 'class'. It is ridiculous. She did nothing wrong, and you all are just more than willing to see her punished for an action that does not even require thought. If you had your way, Jonathon, I along with every other woman alive would be beaten into submission on a regular basis."
Her last comment silenced Bates. My eyes drifted toward his wife and I took notice to the light scars on her neck for the first time.
"It's fine," Weasley informed Bolander's wife, "I assure you that I can take care of myself."
Bolander's wife sighed and stood, "If you say so." She had appeared to have given up her unneeded cause, but her face suddenly lit up. "Draco," she addressed me, "could I please speak to you in private for a second?"
Even Bolander looked shocked at this one. "Jackie, it isn't—"
"Of course," I said out of sheer interest alone. "I could never deny my guest such a request."
I began to walk to my study and gestured for her to follow.
Once in my study, I sat down behind my desk, giving myself the look of power, and leaving her to sit in front of me.
"I know what you must think of me," she began. "I know that you most likely view me as an overbearing woman whom does not know her proper place. Well, you're right. I wasn't born into money; I had to make my own way in the world. I was, however, born into a family that taught me that I have the principle right to think and act for myself. I am not like those women out there—and neither is your fiancé. There must be a reason that you chose her, there must a reason that…that you didn't want a mindless beauty that would submit to you no matter what the circumstance. Marc fell in love me, and it took him many years to gain my love and agreement to marriage. I never wanted to be part of that 'circle' of elite magical families. But I am, and I do what I can with it. So, I can only surmise that you fell in love with her, and it takes a strong man to fall in love. I can respect that. Because of that fact I am going to tell you this: get out. Do not go into business with Jonathon and Timothy…or even Marc for that matter. If you love her, then get out of this while you can. Promise me, please, it is of utmost importance."
She was completely insane, I decided. However, as stated, lying and treachery…really, they are two of my hobbies. "I would appreciate the opportunity to discuss it with my fiancé first. You must understand that she is involved with all of my decisions. She," I added modestly, "gives me incentive for integrity."
"You…you really aren't what you appear to be, Draco."
I am not entirely sure why I lied to her and gave her some sort of hope that she had been searching for. I really do not care what she thinks, nor of her attempts to 'save' me. It was wholly unneeded. If she thought that I did not know of the illegal dealings of her husband and his partners then she was truly dumber than I had thought.
Nevertheless, though, I gave her a toothless smile, "I suppose I shall take that as a compliment."
A/N—I am so sorry that it took me forever and a day to update! Umm, but this chapter was kind of long, so don't be angry? I have just been really busy lately, and I had to write this chapter by bits and pieces whenever I had a few spare minutes. So that's why it took so long to get done.
Reviews are very, very appreciated, so please leave one!
