AUTHOR'S NOTE: Again with the punctual updating! What le fuque? Shrug of shoulders and I have no idea. This is just crazy. Good, at least things are in some semblance of order. Now, without further ado (ack, no babbling delays?... noooooo...) I give you chapter ninny-poo. Okay, what the hell, seriously...stop with the caffeine, you freak! Oh, depression.

DISCLAIMER: I have disclaimed. Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling.

Mistaken Liasions

Chapter Nine: Broken Hearts, Betrayal, Suffering, and A Spot of Tea

Draco was still on the couch when Blaise stepped out of the shower. It was the longest time he'd ever spent in the bathroom (and still less than what Ginny usually spent in there) and yet he still wanted to crawl back in and lock himself out of the world.

He hadn't turned the hot water on and it seemed as if every centimetre of his skin was shaking and trying to jump off his bones. His teeth were still chattering as he went into his room.

Once he was wrapped into some comfortable nightclothes, he threw himself back onto his bed. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and erratically for no reason. His heart was racing and his muscles weary and he didn't know why

Well, he had a faint idea…

Ginny. His Ginny. She always had been, but she wasn't anymore. She was Draco's Ginny now. She would never be his again. He would never be able to hold her like he used to, or talk to her like he used to. She had other responsibilities and loyalties now. She was Malfoy's.

Blaise wanted her so badly. If he closed his eye, he could almost see her smiling face. The face that was always there for him and knew when he needed it. The face that he turned to with problems. The face he loved to see more than his own in the mirror. He had to wipe that image from his head.

He couldn't love Draco's wife.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Draco was up the second he heard the telltale pop! of an Apparation. Ginny Weasley- Ginny Malfoy now, he reminded himself- was standing right in front of him, gorgeous as ever. Was Blaise absolutely blind?

"Where have you been?" he asked, surprised at how gentle his tone was. Considering how frantic he was. Ginny apparently missed the concern and turned a fierce face to his. He saw the telltale marks of tears on her cheeks.

"Let's get one thing straight, Malfoy. You may legally be my husband but I am not going to play the part of obedient housewife to your carefree bastard-like 'lord of the manor' husband, so just go to hell!" she screamed, stomping into her room and slamming her door so hard that a painting fell over the fireplace.

Draco stared harshly at the door she'd just entered. A small part of him was telling him to let her cry and storm and get over it; it was, after all, a big deal. But it was a very, very small part of him and his Malfoy instincts took over as he strode angrily towards her door.

Yanking on the doorknob, he realized she'd locked it. He raised a fist and beat it against the door. He could almost feel it splinter beneath his skin. "Fuck off, Malfoy!" she screamed, throwing something hard at the door.

Draco growled. He had been trying to be nice and understanding, something that went against all his training and years of Malfoy upbringing and did that snotty little witch give a damn? Draco hammered on the door again.

"Open up this door, Weasley, or I'll do it myself!" he warned, pulling out his wand. "Don't you dare, you great, filthy, ferrety-" Draco growled and waved his wand.

'Alohomora' would have been nice and effective. However, Draco used a blasting spell and completely obliterated her door. Splinters of wood went flying everywhere as he strode through the door.

Ginny had been lying on her stomach on top of the covers on her bed, but she was up in an instant when Draco barged into her room. "Malfoy, you little fuck, you're going to pay for that." Her wand was out in a second.

Neither of them noticed Blaise standing in the doorway uncomfortably.

Draco sneered. "What are you going to do, make me wish I'd never laid eyes on you? Because it's too late for that, Wea-" Ginny's eyes flashed and Blaise prayed from the doorway that whatever her curse was, it didn't rhyme with 'Nevada Pellagra'.

When Blaise pulled up the courage to peek through the fingers over his eyes, Draco was running around the room, assaulted by his own flying bogeys. Ginny was fuming, her cheeks blotchy red and her eyes flashing anger.

Draco called off the curse and turned to Ginny. Blaise's heart rose to his throat and his own hand dove into his robes, fingering his wand anxiously. He had seen the same look in another Malfoy's eyes. It had been right before he'd watched Lucius Malfoy Crucio his wife in front of him and Draco. Right now, Draco did look like Lucius.

Ginny never let fear into her eyes, not even when Draco Expelliarmused her wand out of her hand unexpectedly. His wand right under her chin, Draco was breathing heavily, his hands shaking. Ginny was glaring at his face defiantly, her hands clenched at her sides.

Blaise's heart was hammering now and his throat dry as he watched, afraid of just what Draco might do. Ginny stared as Draco fought with his inner demons. "Are you going to do it, Malfoy?" she spat, her eyes glinting dangerously. "Going to Avada me, eh?" she asked, stepping closer and forcing him to pull his wand back or shish kebab her throat .

Blaise watched his reckless love poke the sleeping dragon ever harder. He wondered if it would awake. Ginny was a foot from Draco now. "I don't imagine it would be that hard. Surely you're father's given you plenty of examples to learn from." Blaise saw where she was going and he didn't like it at all. "So let's hear it…are you going to be the next Lucius Malfoy?"

Blaise's wand was out the second she'd finished talking. He stepped up beside Draco, eyeing Ginny worriedly. "I think you'd better go now, Draco." He said gently. To his surprise, Draco's wand hand dropped limply. He was staring at Ginny as if he'd never seen her before.

"I'm not like him." he said, staring at Ginny as one would a goddess. He had eyes only for her; Blaise might as well have not even been in the room. Ginny nodded her head. "I know you're not. I really do."

He reached out tentatively for her hand. She hesitated for a moment, then brought her own up to meet it. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, their hands clasped together in a silent agreement to make the best of their mistaken union.

As he watched them, feeling ever more like a bystander watching from the outside, Blaise felt his heart break.

It was all over.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Pansy Parkinson was lying elegantly in a green and gold silk robe on the lounge in her boudoir, filing her emerald green nails as the tall, burly dark–haired man in front of her bellowed and gesticulated wildly. Her lily-white face was calm and cold, admiring and examining her nails carefully and attentively, her outer appearance belying the annoyance building up inside her.

The man stopped shouting whatever it was he'd been shouting, his hands falling limply to his sides. "You aren't even listening, are you?" he asked, his voice oddly small and his wide black eyes shining eerily.

Pansy glanced up, her blonde curls cascading gracefully over her shoulder and down her back with the slight movement. Harsh blue eyes stared him down critically. "Not really, why were you talking to me?" her lips turned down in a sneering, dissatisfied frown that made her normally pretty face rather twisted and malevolent.

The hurt that crossed the man's handsome features was the only response she received. He shook his head, debating whether to say anything else. With a strangled sigh that bordered on a sob, he turned and strode out of the room, bumping into another man who jumped out of the way hastily as the other Disapparated away with a pop.

Pansy glanced coolly up at the entrance of the second man. Her eyes instantly lit upon seeing his face and she swung her shapely legs over the side of her lounge, eagerly standing to greet him with a kiss on his cheek.

Gesturing for him to sit on a forest-green sofa on the other side of the well-furnished room, Pansy rang a small silver bell and sat across from him, a lovely smile fixed on her now-cheery face.

"Blaise, it's so good to see you. I haven't seen you in weeks." Her generous lower lip pouted out balefully. "Why don't you come see me more often?" she asked. Blaise sighed tiredly and pulled off his robes. "Sorry, Pansy. I've been…busy lately." He finished with only the slightest grimace.

Pansy's lips turned down ever so lightly at the corner as a bustling house elf wearing a frilly green apron and smock entered, a tray of tea balanced on its shoulder. It set it down and backed away quickly. "Too busy for me?" Pansy asked, pouring tea for them both.

Blaise sighed. "To tell you the truth, things have been rather hectic lately. I'm sure you've heard that Draco's living with me now." Pansy's eyes alighted with glee as she sipped her tea daintily. Setting her cup down, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, a considering mask on her face. "No, I hadn't heard that actually."

Her blue eyes shone for a moment and she turned her face to his. "Does this mean Ginevra has moved out?" Blaise stared down at his napkin. "No, she's still living there," Pansy's eyes dulled considerably "she's…she's…" Blaise struggled with the words he didn't want to ever hear anyone say. Pansy leaned in excitedly.

"She's married." Pansy's eyes lit triumphantly. "To Draco." A wild chorus of hallelujah broke out in Pansy's head and it was all she could do not to jump from her seat. Sealing her features, she reached for the teapot.

"More tea?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Ginny was sitting on the sofa, a full length away from Draco, who was twiddling his hands nervously. They had been sitting like this for a full two hours and counting and Draco still couldn't think of anything to say to his wife.

His wife.

The thought struck him as frightening, but somehow, not the death-sermon he'd thought it would be. Marriage didn't look so horrifying now that he was actually in it. Glancing over at Ginny, he secretly admitted that his wife wasn't too horrible either.

Her face was odd, really. Her chin was small and elfish, barely an inch between it and her lips. Her cheeks were wide and when she grinned, she had pronounced dimples. Her nose was of appropriate Weasley length, but thankfully not to the degree of her brother's. Her cheekbones were high and almost elegantly so, marred only by her freckles and wide eyes.

And what gorgeous eyes.

Her hair was currently in two short bunches that stuck out from behind her ears. He'd never thought pigtails could be so sexy. She kept lifting a pale hand to tuck back unruly strands of orange-red hair that fell in front of her eyes.

Draco was vaguely aware of the fact that he was practically salivating over a Weasley who wasn't anywhere near the drop-dead sexy bombshell women that had once littered his life. But, as he repeatedly told himself, she was no longer a Weasley, and drop-dead sexy bombshell women got old after a while in their stupid perfection. And Ginny was by far a match for him and more. She could actually make married life…dare he say it? Enjoyable?

Ginny suddenly groaned and threw her head back, her eyes squeezed shut in what looked like pain. Draco turned to her, concerned. "What?" he asked, surprised at his own worry. She lifted her head, apparently thinking the same thing as him. Ignoring it, she sat up. "This means I'm going to have to tell my family eventually."

A frightening image of an army of red-headed warriors with long noses carrying pitchforks and nooses fled across the blank expanse of his mind. He shuddered, trying to rid the image of a spear shoved up his nose out of his head. "Maybe they don't have to know for a few…years…" he trailed, contemplating how short his life would be if the Weasley brothers found out what he'd done with their little sister and what else he had the right to do as her husband.

Ginny groaned, slumping forward until her head was in her hands. "Oh, stupid twit. Why'd you go and tell Hermione?" she slammed her palm into her head repeatedly, as if to make the idiocy she spoke of leave through force.

Draco reached out and grabbed at her hand, intent upon stopping her before she did some brain damage. She ended up moving her hand away just as he reached for it, causing him to overbalance and fall…into her lap.

He glanced up at her. Her face was blank and yet so expressive under that calm surface. Uncertainty and fear flitted across her gaze as she weighed her options. A hand came up as if on puppet strings and brushed Draco's hair out of his eyes.

He had never felt the pull of something so simple and he couldn't feel his breathing or his heartbeat…his head was spinning and all he could see was her…her hair, her face, her lips…closing in on his…just one kiss…they were married…just one kiss…it couldn't hurt…just one kiss…

Ginny knew she shouldn't have ever considered it. But they were married after all. It wasn't ideal, but he was handsome and well-known for his bed prowess…and he seemed to have grown up. And after all, it was only one kiss…

Draco's eyes closed the second he felt her lips on his. It was a soft, closed-mouth kiss…at first. For a moment Draco couldn't move a muscle. An incredible feeling of weightlessness filled him and the only thing anchoring him down were the lips that were suckling his lower lip, seeking, bold, and just a little unsure.

That uncertainty melted the second Draco moaned and reached around to pull her head closer to his. His chest felt like it was being smothered, yet on fire at the same time. Millions of volts of electric energy were racing a marathon through his veins, all pumping to three very crucial points; his heart, his head and…the family jewels.

Ginny didn't even realize he'd pushed her back on the couch until she felt his wand poking her thigh as he lay on top of her. Further exploration lead to the discovery that it was indeed not his wand that was poking her in the thigh. Not his magic one, anyway.

Draco moaned deep in the back of his throat. One of her legs was in between his and he knew she was torturing him on purpose. Need was pounding and his head was spinning. Why did it feel so naughty doing this when they were, after all, married?

Ginny's eyes opened as Draco pulled away from her a little. His own eyes were closed, and a look of guilt and regret was passing through his head. Ginny sat up, wondering what it was he was regretting. "Draco?" she asked hesitantly.

Draco's eyes were still shut. Why did it feel so wrong? Because they were in someone else's house; their friend's house. On his sofa. Even if Ginny was his housemate, it wasn't her place.

Draco opened his eyes. "We can't do this here." He said, disappointment flagging him down. Ginny glanced down, then toward the back of the apartment. "Should we take this to my room?" she asked. Draco shook his head, getting up off her. "We can't do this here. Not in Blaise's house." The mention of Blaise brought a sharp stab of something to Ginny's chest. Maybe this was the same guilt Draco felt. Or something else. Ginny's heart was beating too fast for her to focus on it.

"Oh." She said softly, sliding out from under Draco as he collapsed on the other side of the couch, closing his eyes in what looked like troubled agony. Ginny collapsed in the chair across from him, some sort of unique pain registering in herself.

She wanted this; the safety of a steady pair of arms. Arms that would embrace her with more than just the intent of removing her bra. She wanted what Hermione and Ron had. She wanted this. She wanted to be married. Looking at Draco, she wondered if it wasn't marriage, but love.

Could she still have love? Was it out of the question now that she was married to Draco? Or was that just all part of it?

……………………..

Pansy was lounging in her room, alone once more. Her long silver necklace was being wound frantically and jerkily around her fingers as she stared into the ornate design of her oriental rug, her smooth brow creased in contemplation.

A knock sounded at the door and she immediately smoothed that line of emotion, caressing her features back into their tailored vacuity, her face dispassionate and blasé as she leaned back, relaxing her body on the divan as well.

Readjusting the necklace, she raised one fair white arm, snapping her well-manicured fingers together in a simple movement that did no go unnoticed as the house-elves stirred in the shadows.

A few moments later and footsteps announced the arrival Pansy had been waiting for. Nevertheless, it was not the one she'd been hoping for; the soft, slinking steps did not belong to her love's feet.

Within moments, a thin, pale, mousy man slipped into the room with little more than a whisper of noise. Bowing so low that his needle-like nose nearly pierced his kneecaps, the man greeted Pansy's floor in a manner reminiscent of earlier, more noble days.

"Mistress Parkinson, I presume?" he didn't bother to look for her nod of accord; his nose stayed low to the ground, and his eyes focused on his feet. "My ladyship, I trust you have been in good health?"

"Good health and good spirits, as always, and even if it were not so, it is no less customary for the same response; do leave off with the formalities, Mr. Blaeden. It is Mr. Blaeden, I assume?" likewise, the acknowledgment of his name wasn't witnessed by Pansy as she snapped her fingers again.

Another house-elf entered the room, its' nose even more perpendicular to the ground, as if determined not to be outdone by a stranger not belonging to the mistress. In its' firm grasp was a tea tray, which it placed on the table next to Pansy before disappearing back into the shadows.

Pansy poured herself a cup, but did not offer any to the mousy man still bowing low at her doorway. It was not until she had taken a leisurely sip of her tea that she again turned her attention to the man. "Oh, for Rowena's sake, stand up!" she huffed, a single strand of blonde hair falling into her face.

The man straightened his back, still in the doorway.

"Your owl was received this morning. I came as soon as possible to see if I could be of some assistance." The man told his left shoe. Pansy's lips tipped down in a slight frown. "If you couldn't be of any assistance, I would have had no reason to summon you, would I?"

The man said nothing, still avoiding her eye, almost defiantly. "I suppose that is so, madam." Pansy sighed. She knew there was not much room she could make in this situation; her father before her had dealt with the Blaedens of Luton and she had heard of their insufferable lack of respect while showing a complete mask of respect.

"That is all very well, but the reason I called you here is that I need a favour to ask you." The man's cerulean eyes lit up in interest, though they remained firmly fixed on his clasped hands. "A favour? Surely your father told you that in all of his dealings with my father, the Blaedens never do favours." Pansy's grasp tightened on her teacup.

"Fine, a job for you then." She snapped, politeness and gentility gone as her face turned sour. "I need information…on two subjects." She paused and waited as the man pulled his wand casually from his robes and summoned a piece of paper. Wand poised over the parchment floating in midair, the man gave a quick nod of his head.

"Ginevra Weasley, daughter of Arthur and Molly Weasley, and Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy." The man's wand moved across the page. "It has recently come to my attention that the two have been married, in which case I need to know all the details, including what they plan to do in their marriage. If there is any sign of estrangement or, Salazar forbid, divorce, I want you to owl me immediately. As it stands, I expect a preliminary report in nine days' time."

And with that, Blaedon was dismissed and Pansy went back to sipping her tea, watching the shadow of a man recede and disappear, all the while smirking inwardly, satisfaction written clearly in her clear blue eyes.

…………………

Ginny finally sighed, pulling herself from the chair she was in.

"Listen, Malfoy…we need to talk. Do you want to go get a drink or something?"

Draco glanced up at his wife, experiencing a thrill as he realized she was his forever. Possessiveness swept over him and he found he rather liked the idea of being bonded to her. She'd never leave him.

"Yeah, why not."

…………………….

Blaise Apparated into his flat rather late that evening. He supposed he ought to have gotten smashed at home instead of the nearest pub from Pansy's place. It would have helped if he had thought of it before getting hammered and Apparating in on a young witch and wizard fooling around on their living room floor.

Staggering only slightly, Blaise dropped his cloak in the middle of the floor. "Sparky, get your arse in here, I need to talk!" he shouted, grinning drunkenly. Until the realization that she was indeed married to his friend sunk into his intoxicated mind. The thought was rather depressing and warranted a whole new round of Firewhiskey.

Flaming, engulfing, searing fire broke loose in the pit of his stomach, and unreasonable anger and a pinch of bitterness seeped into his bloodstream, mixing with the alcohol there, breeding and spawning something he would regret in the morning. Determination spread like wildfire as his fists clenched, thinking of Ginny, who had finally found her someone.

He would not be condemned to a night alone tonight.

He scrawled out a quick note out of habit, though he felt like sending it into the flames from the fire. Stumbling over to the fireplace, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into the flames, shouting a destination he knew deep inside, even as he stepped into the green flare, that he didn't really want to be.

"Parkinson Place!"