Disclaimer: Characters from the Harry Potter novels obviously belong to J.K. Rowling. I own Arion (Professor Caelestis), Kiribati, Harrumph's Wizarding Dictionary, "fuckage", and Damascus.

Chapter 6: With corrections… oi I seriously need someone to edit my work before it goes online!

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Chapter 6: The Coming of Damascus

Summer went by far too quickly for comfort. Ginny woke up early on August 31st to soak up every last morsel of summer before Sixth Year closed in for good. The entire household was running around rabidly, packing last-minute quills, ironing robes… finding robes (Ron), looking for Prefect Badges. Was Ginny a prefect this year? Most unwelcomingly, yes, yes she was. Damnation to the gods above. Her badge had come in the mail the same time Harry's Quidditch Captain's badge came along with a lift on his Quidditch ban. Ron had continued on as prefect while Hermione was Head Girl – big shocker, that one. There had been a round of celebrations in which the twins expressed their dismay that Ginny had failed to follow in their footsteps of defying Hogwarts law. Well, excuse her, but it wasn't like she asked to be a prefect. Far from it… it meant that she'd be spending sixth year evenings roaming hallways on patrol as opposed to roaming the hallways making hell for the patrollers… Oi

How was she planning to spend her last glorious day of summer? She, Ginny Weasley, was going to Diagon Alley, again. That's right, Diagon Alley. The very same fateful shopping area where she, as Virginia Surnameless, had met Draco Malfoy and reserved judgement that he was, in fact, not an arse. Now she was going back. Not to see Draco, no, that could come later on during the school year, but to get something. Something that would hide a certain something else. Why? Because recent developments with a certain black orb and a certain earth-bound Seraph had caused her to believe that she'd need a safe place to store the aforementioned item. Preferably in a box that had no openings so that that bloody Arion of a Seraph couldn't get his hands on it and ask annoying questions.

What had happened? Well, if you really want to know, Ginny walked into her room one afternoon when she was supposed to be outside indulging in the sunshine, and what did she find but a delicious looking Arion sprawled on her bed. Normally, this would have be a very inviting sight, only he was toying with an object that he wasn't even supposed to know about. Sweet Merlin. Think fast.

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"What is this?" Ginny's breath caught in her throat. Somehow this seemed awfully, awfully wrong.

"What are you doing?"

"I asked you first. What is this?" he returned, turning the orb over and over in his hands. Ginny couldn't speak. Arion lying there nonchalantly on her bed, playing with that damned black orb, had to be the most incorrect thing she'd ever seen and no good could possibly come from it. "What is it?" he asked again.

"I don't know." she said evenly. She went over to him very quietly and took the orb out of his hands. He didn't stop her, or resist in any way, but his mark had been left there all the same. Seraphim tended to do that… mark their belongings. Arion rose from her bed and looked down at Ginny, who at that moment, felt very small… much smaller than she liked feeling. He directed one long, piercing look at her and she felt winded. The room around her began to blur. She felt the ball slip from her hands and things went very dark. Damned Seraphim and their damned powers.

She'd woken up that way too, a heap on the floor, ball a little ways away from her. At least Arion hadn't taken the thing with him… he hadn't helped her up either. In fact, he had completely vacated the room and Ginny was to find in the succeeding minutes that he was downstairs having an animated and very innocent conversation with none other than Hermione Granger.

"You look horrid!" she declared, as Ginny descended the stairs. Thank you Miss. Sour Apple, she thought, ignoring her and snatching a muffin off the counter.

"Ginny, I realize that you've been trying to build up curves this past summer… heaven knows you've been eating enough, but you had lunch about an hour ago." – an hour… that meant she'd only been out for about five minutes, and it meant that Arion had only just started talking to Hermione. Excellent.

"Thank you for your touching concern, Professor. I find it not at all troubling that you would be noticing my… ah, curves." she said delicately. Hermione had been watching this exchange, a little annoyed that Arion was talking about Ginny's curves and not her own twiggy figure, was then very intrigued when she heard Ginny's less than welcoming answer. It just had to be so convenient that Hermione was in fact a rather brilliant young witch who could easily put two and two together… thus, later on that evening… a certain conversation transpired.

"Ginny! I was hoping to catch you alone. I wanted to have a chat with you." Ginny's eyes blinked incomprehension at her… Hermione Granger wanted to talk to her, Ginny Weasley. Ginny Weasley didn't like her. At. All. Ooooookay. "I'm worried about you," she continued, ooooooookay. "I know you're growing up and all, and this must be a phase, but I don't think it's a good idea going around tempting professors. It just won't do."

Blink once, blink twice. :Minute explosion: A certain equilibrium was thrown off.

"Hermione." She began very comfortably with a smile, "Fuck. Off." Ginny pushed past the older girl who very nearly reached out and caught her by the arm but decided against it upon Ginny's death glare.

She? Ginny Weasley, tempting a professor? Bloody fuckage.

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Ginny didn't know why she had such a strong instinct to protect a black ball that had never done anything, which she didn't know anything about, and which seemed harmless… but she somewhere deep down, she knew she had to keep it safe. Keep it from prying eyes, the multitude of people who couldn't wait to get a story.

That was why Ginny Weasley was going to Diagon Alley during the last day of her summer holidays. If Draco Malfoy decided to show up… well, he wouldn't recognize her and he most certainly wouldn't speak to her voluntarily short of launching insults at her.

The morning rolled away as Ginny sat in the Black residence library reviewing her homework before stowing that away and preparing for her trip. Ginny was not of a wealthy family. She didn't get an allowance and she didn't taken charity money from other people. No, Ginny Weasley wrote for money. She wrote poetry, she wrote short stories, and she wrong songs for money… so naturally, she had a bit more than the normal Weasley would be expected to have. She didn't have an account at Gringotts, so for safekeeping, she'd kept the galleons and sickles she'd accumulated in a small chest that possessed no magical properties. Just an inch thick bolt that spanned the perimeter of the box: completely impenetrable save burning or hacking to pieces… both of which would destroy the soft ore-made coins inside.

It was while she was counting out fifty galleons that the brilliant idea struck her. The box was a perfectly good hiding spot. It was an average chest that jingled with the money inside. Were she to bury the ball inside the coins, no amount of shaking the chest would result in anyone thinking there was anything more that money there. Very please with herself, she set the fifty galleons aside and fetched the black ball which she placed in a ditch of coins and covered with more coins. Sliding the bolt into its place and locking it with a large rusty key, Ginny picked the chest up and violently shook it about… only tinkling. Briiiiiiiiiiiiilliant.

That just meant a trip to Diagon Alley without an agenda. She could do whatever she wanted. Suddenly, the ideas were flying… she could look at those advance spell books she'd wanted, she could buy robes, she could… she could… Ginny paused. Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet.

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Three scoops of ferrero rocher flavoured ice cream with extra chopped hazelnuts later Ginny was happily wiping her mouth on a napkin wondering what she'd do next… Forty eight galleons left… maybe she'd brought too much with her.

Undisguised this time, Ginny's fiery hair hung near her waist, her deep brown and gold flecked eyes darted this way and that. The delights of shopping never failed to put a spring in her step… Draco Malfoy never failed to take that spring out of her step.

Oh, and there he was right at the line up at Fortescue's walking straight to the front of the line, no doubt angering many customers who opted to hold their peace in the presence of the Malfoy heir. Ginny stared open-mouthed at him. She was accustomed to his rude behaviour, but this was rather obtuse… even for him.

With ice cream in hand, he turned from the line and seated himself at a table very close to hers. She tensed up and suddenly found the cobblestone path beneath her feet utterly fascinating.

"Weasley?" came the expected mocking tone. Ginny turned and schooled her expression. "Well, well, well, I didn't know your family had quite enough money to afford shopping trips here." Ginny looked him up and down… getting very old, very fast Malfoy.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, it seems your charm comes sporadically and rarely." she observed grimly. Draco seemed not at all effected by this as he scoffed and took a bite out of his ice cream… with a spoon no less. If any other boy had taken a bite of ice cream with a spoon, Ginny may have run down the opposite direction of the street screeching her head off… As it were, it wasn't another boy, and the ice cream in spoon was very befitting of him.

"And you would know this because you know exactly how charming I am." he said, astoundingly good-naturedly eyeing her with some interest.

"You'd be surprised how quickly word goes round that you aren't a Grade A bastard all the time." Ginny returned, rising to leave. Draco's gaze followed her, a little puzzled, a little amused, and not at all concerned. She left Fortescue's unaware of what she'd accomplished… but, that really wasn't the point of why she was in Diagon Alley.

No, she was there because Harry had an ocelot named Kiribati who had brought plenty of joy and playfulness to his life, and now she wanted a cat of her own. A very pretty cat.

In fact, a very pretty cat that was white with black-blue stripes that half-growled, half-mewed when she saw it in the display cases at the shop. Ginny didn't know her soul animal yet, and it wouldn't be for many months until she saw it in its true Animigus form, but she felt her heart breaking at the sight of this cat in a glass cage. She found herself reaching into the tank and stroking it fur.

"My word young lady, get your hands out of there!" came the unmistakeable gasp of the shopkeeper. True to her word, she strode over and pulled Ginny's hand out of the cage. "Do you have any idea what that is?" Unfortunately for the shop owner, the sight of the animal had frozen Ginny's capacity for social niceties.

"I would imagine a caged animal." snapped Ginny. The woman scoffed… such compassion coming from a shopper who stood amidst hundreds of caged animals… the shop was full of them. Lizards, birds, rats, rabbits, owls… cats too…

"It's a very pricey pet." the keeper said smugly. Ginny looked over to the price tag and true to the keeper's word, the price made her heart sink… she had forty eight galleons, and this beautiful thing, priceless in reality, weighed a staggering six hundred. Six hundred. Ginny swooned at the thought… That was all of her siblings' school supplies and the cost of food for two weeks and then some. A little cough of despair caught in her throat. She wanted to cry. She felt like a five year old denied a lot of candy!

The chime on the door sounded as another customer stepped into the shop. The keeper bustled over while Ginny squatted in front of the cage prepared to make a goodbye speech to the animal. Quite inconveniently, an unwelcome figure made his presence known.

"What's this Weasley, no real friends?" came the drawl of a certain Draco Malfoy. "Oh lookie!... my, my six hundred galleons. Now that's a sum isn't it?" he asked, looking everywhere but at Ginny. When he did look at her, the smirk was firmly in place, his countenance was still the apogee of arrogance. Ginny looked away… git. "How now, Weasley… what are you planning to do?" he said candidly, dropping down next to her to get a good look at the tiger. "Pretty thing, that."

"What do you want Malfoy?" she asked tiredly.

"Well, if you want to know, I was trying to make friends."

"You don't do friends." Malfoy considered this for a second, and then nodded, smiling.

"True Weasley, true. But for some reason, oh, I don't know why, seeing you today reminded of someone I met a while ago. I bought dress robes for her, she was positively delightful."

"And that affects me how?" Ginny demanded… bloody fuckage… he knows! How does he know?

"So Virginia… or Ginevra, what is it? How's about Gin, like I first heard. Gin… what do you have to say about the entire thing?" Without waiting for an answer, Malfoy did something wonderfully incredible and which Ginny was to remember for years and years to come. Waving the store keeper over, Malfoy pointed directly at the tiger. "I'll be taking that." Ginny looked at him wide-eyed. Not only was the bastard going to mock her when she'd already taken a fall, he was going to take the tiger right from under her nose! For some undisputed reason she felt that the tiger already belonged to her. Spluttering, she tried to say something which came out something like…

"Arghbuthwha!" Draco gave her a very amused look.

"No worries, I speak troll" he said in a pacifying manner to the shop keeper. The shop keeper looked from one teen to the other. Finally, after handing over the debit key to his Gringotts vault Draco was handed the baby tiger. He looked at it, stroked its fur… buried his nose in it (much to Ginny's jealousy)… Finally, he was finished with his infuriating antics and in an act so surprising that Ginny felt disoriented for a second, he put the tiger on the ground, "Go… go to mommy."

The tiger looked appreciatively at him before trotting over to Ginny who didn't know what to do for a second. Finally she bent down and picked the little thing up.

"Ooooh… oh you darling thing, look at you." she cooed. Ginny wasn't the cooing type, but the baby tiger was a coo-deserving creature. Draco walked up to her,

"I'm giving you this tiger." he stated blandly.

"Thank you." she said.

What happened after that no one was ever able to say. No amount of Pensieve-gazing could really sift reality from personal emotions, but a certain shop keeper lived to tell many years later that the two teenagers had exchanged a long deep look afterwards. Then they parted. The boy left first not looking back, and the girl much later, staring at the place where he disappeared around a corner.

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Four o'clock that afternoon…

"So you just went to Diagon Alley and bought a tiger?" Ron asked incredulously for about the millionth time.

"Yes, Ronald, I went to Diagon Alley and purchased a pet tiger." If he asked once more she'd take the nearest object and beat him with it.

"You just went to Diagon Alley and bought a tiger." Ginny reached over for a copy of Harrumph's Wizarding Dictionary and unceremoniously thwacked the side of Ron's head with it. He yelped but save a few indecencies wisely decided not to ask about the events of purchasing the tiger again.

She had yet to choose a name for the cat… Harry had gone ahead and blindly pointed to a place on a map of the world (the island of Kiribati) and named his ocelot that. Ginny wasn't about to do that.

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Draco Malfoy was a peculiar fellow. In his youth he was tall and toned from years of Quidditch training. Somehow, he always looked more graceful than the other players though, there was a hidden fluidity to him that made even the sturdiest man stop and wonder at him. When he was grown he'd be at the top of the list for best looking, wealthy, influential, successful, and something else… His trademark would become the black Burberry turtleneck he wore with Armani slacks under a personally fitted Iceberg trench. While he favoured green now as his house colours, he harboured an affinity towards black which translated to his clothing. His silver and black leather Emporio Armani watch went beautifully with the sleek black Guccis that he wore on his feet. Surprisingly, he would take to wearing gloves. He would eventually befriend the fashion moguls and business tycoons of both the Wizarding and Muggle world. Similarly, he would get his fair share of celebrities. Many would call him Superman.

But just then, Draco Malfoy was a seventeen year old young man ordering House Elves around while preparing for his last year at Hogwarts. His father no longer haunted the halls of the Malfoy Manor – shut away in Azkaban along with his estranged aunt and many of the top ranking Death Eater… something to do with a particularly humiliating event at the Ministry just before the summer of sixth year. His mother had recovered during the past year, now an animated and strong-willed woman like she was before her marriage to Lucius Malfoy. Draco too had adjusted well to his absence.

In fact, it would be that absence which would revolutionize the Wizarding world in years to come. Draco decided that he would begin chipping away the fresco of blood-related hierarchy and meeting the beautiful Virginia was the starting point of this project.

He had left Diagon Alley the day of meeting Virginia contemplating many things. They included the trying feeling in his gut that he was going against the principles he had been raised with… high blood did not mingle with low blood… and Virginia was obviously not high blood… well, she was now, that she turned out to be half Prewett half Weasley.

He reckoned he realized that Virginia was actually Ginevra when she glared at him outside of Fortescue's… the very same glare that she'd given to him when he's walked in on her and… Romulus…? in Madam Malkins… he wondered what she'd look like now in the dress he'd bought her.

All the same, the day had been a fulfilling one. Meeting her again… having a half-decent talk with her, buying her that tiger… there was an eerie connection between her and that tiger – if you were wondering – Draco didn't buy it on impulse. He wondered what she'd name it.

Contemplating his options, Draco watched at Figgy closed the lid on his trunk and bowed to him, "Master Draco, we is all done here."

"Very good Figgy. Tell the others to begin whipping something spectacular up for tonight." Draco said. "Oh, and one more invitation to send out, if you please, Figgy, tell the owls that this has to reach the addressee before the soiree."

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"MOTHER! POST!" Bill called from the kitchen. A delicate and expensive looking envelope and seal had made its way to their postal depot a few miles away… safe keeping you know, it wouldn't do to have random owls flying to Grimmauld place. Molly pattered into the kitchen… the letter was address to The Weasley Family and Company. Who addressed letters like that? Shaking her head, she opened it.

…

…

…

…

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"ARTHUR! ALISTAIR!"

Seven adults, and six teenagers rushed to the room… Molly Weasley brandished the letter at her husband. It read like so…

Draco Malfoy

Invites the Weasley Family and Company

To his Annual Summer Soiree

10:00pm – 3:00am

Malfoy Mansion

"Well… that's nice of him." Arthur said quietly. Ginny's eyes were wide as she read and re-read the invitation. Ron was howling… all in all, there was mass confusion.

Finally, Moody roared for them to all quiet down while he contacted Dumbledore.

Ten minutes later, Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace at number 12 Grimmauld Place holding a very similar invitation.

"I believe that young Draco is expecting us!" he said cordially. "I suggest we all go and put on our dress robes."

"You're going!" Ron asked stupidly.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, I believe it to be a good idea. Now, if you please, I would like a word." Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all filed to their respective rooms in varying moods to prepare for the Malfoy soiree while Dumbledore turned to the Order. "I must ask that you give young Draco a chance. His father's deeds are just that. As we all should know well, a name does not mean anything. Draco is young but full of potential and I believe he will be great. It is our job is to see that he gets an opportunity… I'm sure Sirius would understand what I mean." The Order looked at each other. "Now… who can tell me what colour looks better, sunset orange or a shade of merlot…"

…

Ginny was stroking Damascus – the tiger, that is. She really wanted to bring him with her tonight… after all, Draco did buy him. She was sitting on her bed in the dress that Draco had bought her… her hair tied loosely in a half bun. The dress had absolutely no back and the front scooped tastefully and wonderfully low. The triangles of fabric from the dip to the halter straps behind her back were filled out and she'd spent fifteen minutes in front of the mirror contemplating pinning the front together… she'd finally decided against it. Everything was soft… her hair was liquid, fire, her skin a honey-golden tinged paleness. She didn't like the sharp edges that crept into fashion these days… the thin, dramatic eyeliners or the chiselled lips that looked stencilled on. Instead, she opted for a very soft brown that deepened her eyes and no eyeliner at all. A soft swipe of blush went over her cheeks and a conditioning on her lips. The dress and her natural features were enough to halt the breath of every man – as she was about to find out, and makeup would cheapen the look.

That was not to say that Hermione wasn't wearing any makeup. She looked very pretty with her hair tamed to shiny straight strands. She had on a shockingly out-of-character piece that was well-fittied, just above her knee, a strapless confection in deep red. Dark eyeliner circled around her eyes and deep red lipstick… quite the contrast next to Ginny.

When the two young women stepped into the parlous… long after all the men had congregated, there was a collective hitch of breath. Everyone was staring at Hermione. Ginny found this very interesting. They looked at her, looked away and looked at her again.

It was probably Bill would have noticed Ginny first… standing a little ways behind Hermione who was fair basking in the attention. Her behaviour, like her dress, was very different… in a hilarious way. Her voice was pulled to a husky tone and she moved with a deliberate and hard-practiced poise. Ginny on the other hand walked the way she did in Lohengrin, head held hide but not in hard-clipped arrogance. She spoke the way she always did and her finesse was bred into her step… it's what the Seraphim do. Arion was very happy about the way she looked.

He looked utterly wonderful. She was quite certain that no man could pull off white dress robes the way he did.

"Ginny? Is that my little sister?" Bill said drawing gazes to her. He walked up to her and engulfed her in a hug.

"You look amazing Bill." He laughed.

"Coming from who is surely to be the belle of the ball," – Hermione turned to look at Ginny at this, "I feel very honoured." Bill held out a hand in escort.

Emotions were mixed in the parlour that night… luggage stood at one end of the hall, ready for transport the next morning, while a group of very different people stood in the other… dressed in their best – be it borrowed, transfigured, mended, or newly bought – anticipating a soiree which marked a turning point in their lives.

"Are we all ready?" asked a jovial Dumbledore, who apparently decided that sunset orange was superior to merlot, as he pointed his wand at the fireplace. "Here we go… Ginny, would you bring up the rear with Bill please?"

When everyone had left through the fire, Bill hesitated a little.

"Ginny, I just want to tell you that you do look absolutely beautiful. I've never been so proud of you than now." He hugged her tightly. Ginny had felt a warm sensation creep through her… Bill had always been the only brother who connected with her on all levels. She hoped that whatever would come in the future, Bill would not be lost.

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Notes:

Damascus: I like the name.

Ginny's look: I used to be very gung-ho for the look that Hermione is sporting, the blatantly strong look of a dangerous woman… then I thought a woman hardly needs makeup to look astounding. It comes from what she dictates through her eyes and how she holds herself. I don't mind a little makeup… I wear it myself to soirees and balls… and like I said before, the dress Ginny is wearing is modelled on one of my own. It doesn't need makeup to look amazing.

Draco: Draco is very interesting. As for him and the name brands, at one point I bought each of those items for some of my guy friends… and I've never seen them worn together looking the way I want them to… but were they to be put together… very nice.