A/N: I wrote this for Rainpuddle's Mail Order Bride Contest, but I wasn't able to complete it before the deadline.So, I begin yet another story, which I will hopefully be more diligent about than I have the others!
Ginny approached the small building that was home to Buy the Cow Bridal Agency, wondering how on Earth she had convinced herself this was a good idea. As she reached the door, she gave herself a mental shake, tamping down soundly on the nervous flutter in her stomach. With great determination, she passed into the posh lobby where her facilitator, Catherine Oliver, was waiting.
"Ginny! How lovely to see you again," Catherine gushed. "The other ladies have already arrived. If you'll follow me, I'll show you where you can get ready for the party."
Ginny followed the other woman to a small dressing room, and hung the dress she carried on the waiting clothes rack.
"The gentlemen will be arriving at seven o'clock," Catherine informed her. "I'll come back in twenty minutes to take you to the assembly room."
With that, she turned and left Ginny alone to prepare for the party where she would meet five potential husbands. Ginny sat down at the vanity to apply her make-up, and thought back to the events that precipitated her transition from overworked and underpaid professional woman to mail order bride.
Molly Weasley was in rare form. She had arrived in Diagon Alley at noon, just as she would on any other Saturday, for the standing lunch engagement she and her daughter kept. It had been a fixed part of their lives since the youngest Weasley child had moved out of the family home some four years earlier. Most Saturday luncheons were passed in pleasant conversation, only gently punctuated by the elder woman's desire for her daughter to settle down with a young man.
Once in awhile, though, Molly Weasley would arrive in London withnews. On those occasions, Ginny knew she was in for a heavy dose of "Why don't you ever bring your boyfriends to meet us?" and "Don't you want to get married?" So, when her mother entered the restaurant and immediately exclaimed that Ginny's brother, Ron, and his wife, Hermione, were expecting their first child, Ginny knew that this would be one of those visits.
After expressing her joy at this happy news, Ginny waited resignedly for the onslaught of questions about her own plans for family expansion. It was not long in coming.
"They only began trying to conceive last month," Mrs. Weasley continued. "Weasley fertility, you know!"
Then came the pause that signaled impending doom. Ginny watched as her mother's expression sharpened perceptibly.
"Well, I suppose you don't know about it, actually, seeing as you're never with a chap long enough to even consider having children. Are you seeing anyone now? You know, I understand from Ron that Dean Thomas is available. You used to fancy him, I recall."
Lord, not Dean Thomas again! Mrs. Weasley could not seem to understand that it had been ten years since Ginny had been taken with Dean, and neither of them cared for a repeat performance of their school romance. Smiling indulgently at her mother, Ginny realized the only course of action that would allow her to escape a well-intentioned fix-up with her old flame was to lie.
"Actually, Mum, I am seeing someone," Ginny fibbed.
The elder woman's face lit up.
"Well now! Aren't you one for secrets? How long has this been going on?"
Ginny shrugged. "Not very long. We've seen each other a few times."
"Why don't you bring him over for dinner tomorrow, dear? We're having Ron and Hermione over to celebrate their good news. Bill and Fleur will be there with the children, and Fred and George are bringing their girlfriends. Percy and his family are coming. It would be a wonderful opportunity for your young man to meet the family."
Raising her hand as though fending off an attack, Ginny shook her head.
"Mum, I think it's a bit early for that sort of thing. We've only just started dating, and you know how the boys can be. I don't want to frighten him off just yet. Besides," Ginny added sweetly, "I wouldn't want to take attention away from Ron and Hermione. This dinner is for them."
After a bit more persuasion, Ginny convinced her mother to give her a little time to get to know her beau before submitting him for Weasley approval.
As Ginny made her way home from lunch, she thought about the lie she'd told her mother. She knew that the Weasley matriarch would not be held off for long. A boyfriend would have to be produced very shortly. The problem was that there was no one in her life to offer up as the heralded beau. There hadn't been anyone in her life in that way for quite some time.
The last date Ginny had been on had been nearly a year before. After a string of short lived relationships with unremarkable men, she'd sworn off the dating scene until she met a man who truly intrigued her. So far, that hadn't happened. Ginny had come to accept that it probably never would. She'd dated Harry Potter. Even though they'd agreed that they weren't right for each other romantically, it was hard to find someone who didn't feel intimidated by her relationship with the savior of the wizarding world. The men she'd dated since Harry inevitably felt that they needed to impress her all the time. Ginny didn't want to be impressed; she wanted someone who enjoyed her company and whose company she could enjoy. She wanted someone who didn't spend every moment of their time together wondering if she was thinking of Harry Potter.
It wasn't as though her life was really lacking anything. She had friends and family, work and hobbies. There was a time when she'd dreamed of becoming a famous novelist, but that was just childhood whimsy. Having children would have been nice, but not everyone was meant to become a mother. The life she led wasn't exactly what she'd imagined for herself as a child, but whose was? Yes, Ginny thought, I'm content as I am. No one gets everything they want.
The following night, Ginny arrived at the Burrow alone, as usual. All her siblings and their spouses or significant others were crowded in the small house, save Charlie, who still lived in Romania with his wife and children. Her mother had gleefully shared the news that she was involved with someone. Consequently, Ginny spent the evening alternately expressing her pleasure at the prospect of a new niece or nephew and fending off questions about her imaginary suitor. The married couples made a point to mention their felicity to the singletons. Those with children spoke of the joys of parenthood to those who did not yet share their blessing. It was a welcome relief when the evening began to wind down and Ginny could make her escape.
The reprieve Mrs. Weasley had granted Ginny regarding her beau was short lived. The young woman had never told her mother so many lies as she did over the next few weeks. Invitations for tea and meals were incessant. Her imaginary companion had been ill, busy with work and family commitments, out of town, and attending a charitable event. Ginny was running out of excuses. Very shortly she would need to either produce a suitor or come up with a plausible explanation for a break-up. The problem was that if she chose to end the 'relationship', she'd be right back in the same situation she started in, with her mother trying arrange her social calendar.
Something else was bothering Ginny, too. Since she'd begun this ridiculous farce, she'd come to realize that she wasn't actually happy with her life. She didn't want to give up on her dreams of becoming a writer and having a family, but as long as she was working in her mind-numbing, overtime-ridden job at the Ministry, and unless she found someone to have children with, the dreams seemed unattainable. The situation she'd gotten herself into by lying to her mother only served to highlight the fact that Ginny's life was nothing like the one she'd planned for herself.
All these feelings came to a head one day while she ate lunch with her friend and co-worker, Laura Woodhouse.
"So, let me get this straight," Laura intoned, with no small amount of sarcasm. "You invented a new boyfriend so you wouldn't have to go out on a date with an old boyfriend, and it suddenly hit you that your life is devoid of any real meaning."
Ginny lifted her head off the table and frowned at her friend.
"I suppose that's it in a nutshell, yeah," she agreed. "When you say it like that, it sounds stupid."
Laura laughed and patted her friend's hand.
"You give me too much credit, Gin. It sounded stupid when you said it, too."
With a groan, Ginny buried her head in her hands again.
"Idsroodo," she mumbled from her impromptu hideaway.
"Sorry, I didn't catch that."
Slowly, brown eyes appeared over the pale, freckled arms. They were followed in short order by the rest of Ginny's face.
"I said it's true, though," the distraught young woman replied. "I've been kidding myself that I'm happy with my stupid job and no man in my life. My mother won't be happy until I'm married and pregnant. I want a family, but I haven't found anyone that isn't completely intimidated by my relationship with Harry. I want to be a writer, I have ideas, but I don't have the time to do research and writing because I spend half my life at the office. It just feels like all my dreams have slipped away."
"Ginny," Laura soothed, "you're only twenty-five. There's plenty of time for you to have all those things. Besides, aren't some of your brothers unmarried?"
"Yes, but Fred and George have been with their girlfriends for years. It's only a matter of time before they set wedding dates. I'm the only one who isn't in a relationship. I want to live my dreams now, but I don't know how to make them happen. I'm tired of holding out for a love that may never come."
Laura looked at her friend's red-rimmed eyes and debated whether to share some information with her. It would mean breaking a confidence. Would Ginny even be willing to consider the idea?
A single tear rolled down Ginny's cheek.
"I just want to be happy," she said softly, as though her voice was weighed down by her despair.
Laura made up her mind.
"Ginny, I'm going to tell you something that was shared with me in confidence. I don't know if you will find it useful. I'll give you the facts and you act on them as you see fit."
Ginny's head tilted to one side, and a ginger brow was raised in curiosity.
"Go on."
Taking a deep breath, Laura held her hands up in a placating gesture.
"Okay. Hear me out on this, Ginny," she said.
Satisfied with the wary nod she received in return, Laura began her tale.
"Do you remember when my brother got married last year?"
Ginny looked thoughtful for a moment; then nodded in the affirmative.
"He married that single mother no one even knew he'd been seeing. I remember you said your mother was fit to be tied."
Laura grinned at her friend's understatement. The news upset her mother so badly that she had been in high dudgeon for a month.
"Exactly. The thing is, no one knew they'd been seeing each other because they hadn't."
"What do you mean, they hadn't? Obviously, they must have done," Ginny retorted.
"Nope," Laura said, shaking her head. "They'd only ever laid eyes on each other twice before the wedding."
"Only twice? Then how..."
"Only twice. Once at the meet and greet thrown by the bridal agency, and once to sign the marriage contract."
"Bridal agency?" Ginny inquired.
Laura nodded. "Bridal agency."
"So your brother..."
"Paid a service to find him a wife."
Ginny's eyes went wide.
"She was a mail order bride?" she whispered in shock.
"Well, there's not much done by post these days, but, yes, that's essentially what she was."
Ginny was flabbergasted.
"I didn't even know that sort of thing still went on. Why would your brother want to marry someone he hardly knows? Why would a woman want to-" she made a face, making circular movements with her hand while searching for the right word- "sell herself like that? It's like a life sentence of prostitution!"
Across the table, Laura choked on the water she was sipping.
"Hold on, now. That's a bit harsh," she protested. "John and Alison are very fond of one another, and I doubt she thinks of herself as some kind of trollop. John has always been a shy sort, and he had a hard time meeting women through the usual venues. Alison was widowed, and lonely, and having a hard time of it raising a child alone."
Ginny had the decency to look sheepish.
"I'm sorry, Laura. I didn't mean to imply that your sister-in-law was... Well, you know. I just don't understand how someone could do that."
"Don't you? You don't understand someone wanting a better life? You don't understand someone wanting to realize her dreams? You don't understand someone being tired of waiting?" Laura chided gently.
And Ginny had understood. She understood that the likelihood of her being happily married was no worse with a stranger than with any of the milquetoast men she'd dated over the years. She understood that a marriage of convenience would give her the opportunity to be a writer; that she could be a mother after all. That she didn't have to wait.
So, here she was, slipping into a dress that accentuated her assets without being indecent, and preparing to market herself to men she'd never seen before. Ginny zipped up her gown, and looked at herself in the full length mirror.
Her hair was loose, flowing in waves down to her shoulders. The make-up she wore was light, in soft gold tones meant to enhance her brown eyes. The dress was a rich burgundy chiffon. From the fluttering sleeves, to the fitted, but not-too-low-cut bodice, to the gently floating skirt that fell to mid-calf, the gown was femininity itself.
And, Ginny thought as she turned in front of the mirror, it does an admirable job of hiding the Prewett hips.
A soft knock on the door announced Catherine's return, and in short order Ginny was taken to a small parlor where four other young women were gathered, chatting politely. There was tension in the air, as could be expected at such an event.
There were no raving beauties among them, but neither were any of the women terribly plain. They all appeared to be of similar age and build, and Ginny wondered idly if prospective brides were packaged in lots. As seven o'clock drew nearer, conversations died down, and the amount of nervous fidgeting increased.
At seven on the dot, the men began to file in. Each was introduced and given the names of the waiting ladies before being released into the room. First was a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties with chestnut hair and a slightly rounded belly.
"Ian Forsythe."
Next up was a short and stocky man around Ginny's own age, with a pleasant, if not intelligent, countenance.
"Alan Cummings."
A tall, gangly fellow followed, with sharp blue eyes and a hawkish nose.
"William Reinhart."
Ginny smiled as the next possible husband entered the room. He was around six feet tall, with chiseled features and a rakish smile. His wavy black hair was almost to the point of needing a trim, giving him a boyish quality. Even his clothing was perfection, with a better cut and more style than the standard dress robes the other men wore. Definitely the best looking candidate thus far, Ginny thought.
"Alistair Lewis."
Still focused on Mr. Lewis, Ginny didn't notice the newest arrival in the room. The next name announced hit her like a bucket of cold water.
"Draco Malfoy."
With a speed that should have caused her bodily injury, Ginny's head whipped around for her eyes to confirm what her ears had heard. Sure enough, standing just inside the doorway was the boy that had spent his school days ridiculing the Weasley family at every opportunity. He was listening to Catherine as she went through the names of the ladies, and greeting each woman
in turn. Ginny heard her own name, and Malfoy blinked in surprise before raising his eyes to look at her.
Of all people, why does he have to be here, Ginny thought miserably.
She inclined her head in greeting, unsurprised at the smirk that played on his mouth as he returned the gesture. Ginny half expected him to move towards her immediately with nasty insinuations about her family's finances requiring her to resort to being a mail order bride to find a mate. Instead, he simply walked off to speak to one of the other ladies in attendance, and Ginny realized that he had business at this party, too. There was no point in wasting time on her when he was here to find a wife.
Throughout the evening, Ginny chatted with each of the four non-Malfoy suitors. She'd come to the decision that Bill Reinhart was a definite no go. He was far too serious and generally not very pleasant. Ian Forsythe was friendly enough, but he made too many trips to the bar and consequently ended up hurrying to the men's room with a hand clutched over his mouth to rid himself of the alcohol. Alan Cummings was a darling man, if a bit simple-minded. Ginny couldn't imagine ever wanting to have sex with him, but he was a dear. Alastair Lewis, on the other hand, Ginny could happily envision in various states of undress. He'd made charming conversation and apparently ran a successful clothing company. He was definitely her first choice.
It was with some surprise and more than a little irritation that Ginny noticed Malfoy making his way over to her.
"Good evening, Weaslette," he drawled, extending his hand.
"Ferret," she responded, taking the proffered hand and attempting to shake it. When he resisted, instead raising her hand to his lips and placing a soft kiss on it, Ginny was dumbfounded.
"Are you enjoying the party?" he asked.
I was until you walked over, Ginny thought acerbically.
"Yes, I was," she replied.
Raising an eyebrow to let her know he'd understood her implication in using the past tense, he gestured to a nearby table.
"Shall we sit?"
With an exasperated sigh, Ginny sat in the chair Malfoy held out for her. He sat himself across from her, and leaned towards her in a conspiratorial way.
"So, tell me, Weaslette, what do you think of your competition?"
Eager to end this conversation as quickly as possible, Ginny snapped, "Rose is a twit. Trudy's a slag. Camilla's a gold digger. Rachel seems like a nice girl, but I think she may be pregnant and looking for a way to save face."
Malfoy eyed her with an amused expression.
"I came to similar conclusions myself, except I hadn't suspected a pregnancy. Good to know, that. I can't have some other bloke's brat being passed off as the Malfoy heir, now can I?"
"Heaven forbid," Ginny said, with a roll of her eyes.
"What about you, Weasley?" he asked, eyes dancing. "Why are you here?"
"To find a spouse, Malfoy. Same as you."
He chuckled, "Well yes, that much is obvious. But why like this? I'd always taken you as one of those girls who wouldn't settle for less than their 'soul mate.'"
Ginny blinked at him. "You're the first person to ask me that," she said thoughtfully. "How odd, it seems like that should be a fairly important thing to know when picking a spouse."
"So what's the answer?"
Ginny snorted.
"The soul mate route took too long. I've got things I want to accomplish, and I can't manage them if I'm working mountains of overtime at a crap-paying job with no one in my
life."
"What sorts of things?" he pressed.
"Like I'd tell you. Now, if you don't mind, you're keeping away the other gentlemen."
At that, Malfoy rose from the table and bowed before turning to walk away. He'd only gone a few steps when he turned back to her.
"By the way, Alistair Lewis is gay. He's a hell of a designer, but they don't come any queerer."
Ginny watched him saunter off with her mouth agape. Had she been so obvious in her enthusiasm for Alistair? And how did Malfoy know so much about him? For the remainder of the party, Ginny floated about the room, making pleasant conversation with the three suitors who were neither Malfoy, nor homosexual. Her original impressions of the men were only enhanced by the additional contact. The evening was a total bust.
The next day, Ginny slept late. She was awakened around noon by a Floo call from Catherine.
"Hello, Ginny," the woman said cheerily. "I'm sorry to wake you, dear, but we've just received a contract for you. Can you come in to look it over in an hour or so?" Still half asleep, and unsure how to tell the woman that there was no one from the party the night before she had any interest in marrying, Ginny agreed to come in at one o'clock. It took a few minutes for her to realize she hadn't even asked who had made the offer.
At five past one, Ginny was escorted into a small conference room, where she nearly died of shock.
"Malfoy?" she cried.
The blond wizard rose from his chair.
"It's a pleasure to see you again, Weaslette," he said, taking her hand and kissing it as he had the night before.
Snatching her hand back, Ginny demanded, "Is this some kind of joke?"
Catherine cleared her throat, and stated calmly, "Not at all, Ginny. The offer is perfectly genuine. Won't you sit down?"
"I don't need to sit down," Ginny huffed. "I'm not marrying him!" Malfoy turned to Catherine.
"Miss Oliver, would you please excuse us for a few minutes? We'll call you once Ginny and I have sorted this out."
"There is nothing to sort!"
"Of course, Mr. Malfoy, I'll be in my office." Ignoring Ginny's protests, the facilitator got up and left the room.
"Malfoy, if you think I'm marrying you, you've gone 'round the bend," Ginny said, sinking into one of the available chairs. "I can' t believe you'd lower yourself to marry aWeasley anyway!"
The young man smirked at her.
"I signed up for a bridal service for two reasons, Weasley. I needed a respectable wife who could behave herself properly at social events, and I needed an heir," Malfoy explained.
"Any one of the woman from the party could provide that. Why me?"
Malfoy sighed.
"I had decided on this approach for marriage because most women that I date are after my money anyway. I figured it was better to know that up front, rather than fool myself into thinking there was really an emotional attachment. I asked every one of them why they were there. They all nattered on about finding true love and being a good wife. Except you. You were the only one who answered honestly."