Lookie! An update! Are you guys proud of me?
Oh! I forgot, somebody revieweda couple chapters ago and wanted to know why Draco calls Ginny Miss Weasley. It's because he doesn't "know" her well enough to call her Ginny, but it would be to distant to call her Weasley. Does that make sense? was anybody else confused by it? I hoped I cleared it up for those that were. Thanks!
Chapter 5: A Reign of Chaos
"Miss Ginny! Miss! Miss Ginny!" Lilla called loudly. "Master says if you don't get up now you will be late for work!"
I jerked up and immediately felt every muscle from my neck to my lower back protest heartily. But then I probably shouldn't have fallen asleep on my desk. It hurt an awful lot.
"Shit!" I scrambled around, pulling on clothes and stuffing papers in a satchel simultaneously. "I can't be late!" If I was late again, I'd be fired and have to find a new job!
"Miss! Miss! Calm down Miss!" Lilla shouted. "I is getting papers together while you is getting properly dressed."
"Thank you, Lilla!" Trying to relax, I pulled off the navy blue sock and found the matching black one. I located my other black boot and threw on a red scarf. Lilla handed me my bag and I apparated to the Ministry.
"Running late today, Ginny?" Mary Ellen asked as I rushed passed her desk. I flipped up my middle finger in response. "What?" But I'd already moved down the hall to my office.
When was the last time I'd given someone the middle soldier salute?
Just as I plopped down in my chair and started sorting through the endless papers, Mary Ellen appeared in my doorway. "Did you get those reports finished? They're needed in Muggle Affairs, like, right now." She crossed her arms and looked irritated, probably at my finger.
For a moment I considered a snappy retort. She'd only given them to me because she was too lazy to do them herself. But I reigned in that desire.
Then I realized just what she'd said. The reports, the ones I fell asleep completing! There was no way I got them all finished! I fished around in my bag, stalling and considering my options. Admit the truth? Give them to her half done? Give her the finger again? Pretend I'd left them at home?
"Oh, here they are!" She cried with exuberance. I closed my eyes with dread. "Wow, and you got them all done, too. I'm impressed." But she didn't look it with the little wrinkle on her forehead, and she sounded disappointed to boot.
"Uh, thanks," was all I could think of to say. Somehow it seemed inadequate.
"Well, I'll just run these over to your father so he can get them to the courtroom on time." She flounced out, and I was grateful.
This had to be the other half of my punishment for remembering. Mary Ellen must have been charged with the task of making my day miserable with her damned presence. Maybe I'd strike it lucky and she'd get waylaid in the hall.
It seemed like I put the quill to the paper, blinked, and hours passed. Somehow the time between eight and eleven thirty melted away into nothing. I liked it when time flew that way because I didn't think, and not thinking was good.
Someone knocked briskly on the door, and I breathed a little sigh of regret. If I pretended not to hear, maybe they would go away. At least it wasn't Mary Ellen, she always barged right in. The stranger knocked again. If it wasn't Mary Ellen, then who was it?
"Come in," I called out hesitantly.
Mum peeked in. "I didn't know you had your own office, and it's nicer then your father's first office was too. They must really like you here."
That or the higher ups wanted to keep me out of the way. It was one of the two, and if I had to pick I would've picked the latter. "Thanks Mum, but what are you doing here?"
A little blush spread across her cheek bones, and if I wasn't paying attention I might have missed it. But why would she be embarrassed about that question?
"I thought you might like to go out to lunch with me, my treat," she was tempting me, knowing I could never pass up on food.
And suddenly everything was like it was before the war—happy and relaxed. How could I resist that temptation, to disappear into the past? "Sure, but my treat, I've got the gold."
"Are you sure, dear?"
What else was I going to spend my money on? "Absolutely, you just name the restaurant." When she smiled, at the risk of sounding clichéd, the whole world brightened with her. It was like a dirty film had been removed from my eyes, and I could see the light again.
"I have been wanting to try that new stew at the Leaky Cauldron." The worry lines on her face disappeared, and I realized just how heavily the burden of my problems weighed on her. The fact that they did trouble her shouldn't have shocked me, she was my mother after all, but I didn't want anyone to worry about me. My problems were just that, mine.
"Well let's go then; we don't want to get caught in the lunch hour rush." I did my best to sound happy and cheerful. And surprisingly, the more I tried, the more it became true.
Together we walked down the hall and out past all the other secretaries. It was the stunned silence that made me realize it was a mistake to leave my office and walk out in front of everyone. One of the girls, I didn't know her name, asked in a very quiet voice, "Is that Ginny Weasley?"
"Yes," Mary Ellen said dejectedly. "That's her."
"But she's so—she looks so—so—"
I could really learn to hate that stutter. "Excuse me." I turned around and faced all the girls in the room. "I would appreciate it very much if you would not stutter when talking about me." Anger coursed through my veins, anger that they could just sit there and stare at me. "Look, I'm not some kind of freak, okay! Don't stare at me like that! And Mary Ellen, if you're going to pride yourself on your deep understanding of me, then share your discoveries with the other girls. Don't worry, I can handle the rumors." If I got any angrier I would start throwing things, and Malfoy wouldn't like that.
Mum put down her spoon and lifted her cup to her lips. The warm cider steamed, causing her face to blur and reminding me of my childhood delusions. She was the one I went to when I needed to cry or didn't understand something. She protected me when Fred and George tried to get me to eat that mud pie, when Bill and Charlie wanted to practice growing charms on me, and when Ron spent all of his time obsessing over my boyfriends.
Quickly I shook those thoughts away. It wouldn't do to lose all of my composure now to old memories. But they were wearing me down. A whole flood of memories had been bombarding me with unwanted emotion since we'd entered the Leaky Cauldron.
I clunked my own cup of cider down on the table and finally admitted defeat. "Do you remember coming here just after Ron left for his first year?"
"Goodness yes, you found those gaudy red shoes and wouldn't stop talking about them for weeks." She laughed lightly, and I grinned too. "And then for months you'd say things like 'as pretty as those shoes' and 'this tastes as good as those shoes looked.'" She frowned and looked thoughtfully into her mug. "But then suddenly you stopped, and we never heard about the shoes again. I've always wondered why." She pinched her eyes together in confusion.
For a moment I didn't say anything, as if not speaking of it would mean the bad times never happened. "Ron told me I could either have the shoes or go to Hogwarts. I just wanted school more than the shoes." Ron had stripped away a little bit of my innocence then; I never forgot that we didn't have money for frivolous things like shoes.
"Oh," Mum said softly, both of us remembering the time when money had been less plentiful. "He shouldn't have told you that."
"Maybe, but I'm glad he did." Her words annoyed me. I might have only been ten, but I deserved to know the truth. "It was true, wasn't it? I don't like being lied to, not then and not now. I used to wish that you had told me, because then I wouldn't have spent so much time wishing for something I couldn't have." My words smothered the conversation.
"You were so young that it didn't seem fair to burden you with the harshness of reality. I just wanted to protect my little girl," She whispered. "It's so hard sometimes to let your children grow up, because then they get exposed to all the bad."
A pinch of guilt rose up in my throat. Why did I have to bring that up? "So, umm, why did you invite me out to lunch today? Any good news from the home front?" How about any other topic?
She looked down at her lap and smoothed out her dress, and I realized I'd asked the wrong question. "Oh, everything's fine, just the same as it was last time we talked."
Everything except me, that is. That's the reason she asked me to lunch. "Did Harry tell you to? Is this supposed to be a pick-me-up after yesterday?"
Her silence practically answered the question for her. "Harry and your father did mention it to me, but neither of them would think of something like a mother/daughter lunch."
"So why come?"
"We were worried about you, even Malfoy. Harry went on a rant about how we needed to bring you straight home, and your father went out to the garage to look over his plugs or something. And I just wanted to talk to my little girl. It's so hard for us, Ginny, to see you struggle along, not really happy and not able to make yourself happy."
"Stop it, Mum," I said faintly, revealing more emotion then I meant to. Why did everyone have to care so much? I was just fine, perfectly fine, so why did they want more for me? Happiness could cost a lot.
"I guess you're not so little anymore." Mum reached across the table and fiddled with my hair. "For all his faults, no one ever accused Malfoy of not having style. You look beautiful."
"Thanks, Mum." What else could I say; she was genuinely worried after all. "We'll have to do this again sometime." I was surprised to realize I meant it.
"Of course, dear." She let go of my hair. "How about next week?"
"I knew it!" Mary Ellen squealed. "That little loser, she's skiving off this afternoon and leaving the rest of us with all her work!"
No one else said anything, and for a moment I wondered why. They all normally agreed with her or wanted something more to gossip about, and surely they hadn't seen me. I hadn't left the hallway yet!
And then everything became clear.
"For your information, Miss," Malfoy's voice froze the room with its glacial tones, "Ginny Weasley went out to lunch with her mother, and before you say anything else detrimental to her reputation, the minister approved of this meeting."
Of course no one would want to encourage Malfoy's wrath. At least no one with more brains then Mary Ellen.
"Mister," Marry Ellen mocked him. "The minister always turns a blind eye when it involves the Weasley family, especially Ginny. How do you think she got her very own office? Just because she lost her memory during the War is no excuse to treat her any differently then the rest of us."
I banged my head softly against the wall in shame. There it was, spoken truth that the ministry and probably everyone else in the world did not treat me like a normal person. If only I could have recorded it.
"You're right." An eerie warmth crept back into his voice. "It's no excuse at all. I'm sure the minister won't mind at all if I tell him about all the trips you make during office hours. He might find it interesting to know just how many times you come back late from lunch, or I could tell him about your little habit in the supply closet. Don't bother Miss Weasley anymore."
Why was he protecting me?
His sure footsteps led him straight into me. "Hello Malfoy."
"Hello Miss Weasley, how was your lunch?" He asked politely as if he hadn't just threatened Mary Ellen.
"Just fine, thank you." I nodded a farewell and marched purposefully back to my office. My head felt ready to explode.
I was more then ready to leave when the clock struck five. The afternoon didn't pass as well as the morning had. Several of the other secretaries paraded in and out wanting to know about my sudden transformation and wanting me to know they didn't all think like Mary Ellen. But I knew better; they just wanted a chance to probe for gossip material, not that it took much to get the rumor mill up and running.
By the end of the day, I'd heard no less then five rumors on my new appearance. Cloning, the imperious curse, and brain transplant were among the more popular ones. No one even got close to the truth, that appearances could be deceiving, that I was the same girl on the inside. When five o'clock rolled around, I was out of there.
Lilla was waiting at the apparation point. "Master is having guests for dinner tonight at eight and requests that you attend with rule number one in mind." She hopped back and forth on her feet, but I didn't think much of her nervousness.
Damn that rule. Be the inner goddess—my ass. "I shall do my best." I smiled painfully. In fact, damn all those stupid rules, damn them straight to hell!
Apparently Malfoy had a whole lot more in mind then just dinner: he had a whole damn outfit! But I put on the scoop neck green shirt that practically fell off every time I shrugged. The skirt was semi decent, a gauzy black that fell to my knees, and for that I was thankful. At least I liked the scrappy little black heels he'd picked out. They almost made the rest of the outfit worth wearing.
In retaliation, I wore my own jewelry, gold hoop earrings and a black satin ribbon. It all matched so he really didn't have room to complain, and I got to wear something of my own.
"Uh, Miss, don't be forgetting your makeup Master says," Lilla said in a frightened voice. "I think he—"
One glare and she shut up. "Lilla, at this point in my day, I couldn't care less what Master wants. I want to shove his stupid requests up his giant ass!" I flipped away from the mirror. "Can you help me with this?"
Lilla nodded and began to wield the mascara wand with stunning skill. "You is beautiful, Miss, more beautiful then Mistress Malfoy."
From her, the words actually sounded like the compliment they were intended to be. "Thanks Lilla." How could that little thing calm me down from a murderous rage with one sentence?
There was a knock on the door. "Miss Weasley? Lilla? Master says the guests is arriving and you is to go to the drawing room."
Lilla and I exchanged nervous glances, and I began to chant in my head rule number one, rule number one, rule number one, over and over again. This evening could not end well, not after how it started.
I didn't know exactly what to expect, but it certainly wasn't the sight that greeted me. Pansy Parkinson, Marcus Flint, Vincent Crabbe, and Millicent Bulstrode, among others, milled around the large room. They had struck up their own little private circles and conversations while waiting for their host. Great, and everyone all looked so dressed up and high class, so unlike me.
"Weasley? What on earth are you doing here?" Pansy asked with more snot in her voice then her nose.
Rule Number One.
"Well, believe it or not, Malfoy invited me to stay with him for a little while." I smiled brightly enough that it might have passed as sincere. "But then, I'm sure you've all enjoyed Malfoy's abounding generosity."
But judging by the shifty looks they gave each other, they hadn't. "Well, of course we have. Draco never skimps when it comes to friends and family." She lied.
I won round one.
"Did I hear someone mention my name?" Malfoy appeared in the door. "You look wonderful Miss Weasley. And of course, stunning as always, Pansy." She practically beamed as he kissed her hand. "Shall we head to the salon for hors d'oeuvres?"
This was awkward.
Malfoy led the group with Pansy on his arm, but he'd offered it to me. She just latched on without thinking, or maybe she wanted me to trail behind with the others. Perhaps it was revenge for my earlier comment?
Rule Number One.
"It's been such a long time since I've seen any of you, I almost didn't recognize you," I said, trying to sound hostess-like. "What have you all been up to?"
They shot me a bunch of dirty glares while whispering amongst each other. Awkward was an understatement. This evening was going to be hell on earth. Lovely, just lovely.
"Oh, Ginny knows all about that. After all, she was Professor Snape's favorite student," Malfoy said, inviting me into his conversation.
I might have joined in too, if Pansy hadn't shot me the glare of death again. I was thoroughly dissuaded from participation, but the invitation was thoughtful. "I believe I'll just go see how dinner is coming along." If Mum could use that excuse, then so could I.
But this dinner party, I simply couldn't do it. No one in their right mind would even think of it. A bunch of Deatheater's children and an honorary Dream Team member would never in a million years find something in common. And to put us all in the same room was as dangerous and stupid as telling Harry and Malfoy to "play nice." It was doomed to fail from the beginning!
What was he thinking?
"Miss? What is you doing here? You is supposed to be with Master and Master's guests."
I opened one eye and then the other very slowly; Lilla stood in front of me, her hands on her hips. "I can't do this. I'm—I'm going to bed. It was a stupid idea to begin with."
"Oh no, you is not! You is going back in there and you is making everyone wonder why they is never liking you to begin with. You is dazzling them!" Lilla could get very persuasive when riled. "You is telling them dinner is almost ready and that you is very sorry but house elves is needing all the help they can get!"
"Yes ma'am," I said meekly.
"Good." She toddled off, leaving me to face my death bed alone. Well, nothing to do but march in there and die with my head held upright. "Sorry, I'm so sorry about that, but you know how house elves are. They simply won't do anything unless someone watches every move."
Pansy smiled, but her eyes hardened. "I know exactly what you mean. They're simply impossible."
And that's how the rest of the evening went. It was one gigantic uphill battle, and Pansy sat at the top throwing rocks at me the whole time. But I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of giving up, not again.
Throughout the hors d'oeuvres I told amusing stories about Fred and George and their newest products. Through the soup course I listened as Millicent gave us all a detailed account of how her cat finally died. I told them all about Harry's triumphs in Quidditch during the salad. Draco looked bored at all this, but I caught Pansy paying attention when I told them all how he was nearly decapitated by another bludger. During dinner Draco regaled us with a tale about the Minister and a little old lady who refused to cross the street. I chuckled quietly into my sweet potato soufflé, remembering how beaten Spencer had looked after that incident.
Everything turned around in the middle of desert. Millicent turned and asked me if it was true that Mum made the best cheesecake, which quickly turned into a discussion of the best ingredients. Marcus Flint insisted that the next time she made any we'd have to send him a pie as it was his wife's favorite desert and his elves just never got the recipe right. I promised we would.
"Well, that went well." Malfoy said, shutting the front door.
"Finally!" I mumbled, relieved that the end had come and Pansy couldn't glare at me anymore.
"You could have been a bit more friendly with Pansy though." Malfoy carried on as if he didn't know I wanted nothing more then to escape to my room. "I just know that if the two of you found some common ground, then you'd be the best of friends."
"Friends? With Pansy Parkinson?" I clutched at the banister to keep from falling over in gasping laughter.
"What? It's not that far fetched."
"Friendship with Pansy is as likely as my falling in love with you." I continued to hang onto the rail.
He didn't say anything, but fixed me with a hard stare. I'd handled every other kind of look anyone could give. But there was something else in his eyes, not pity or sadness, not glee or delight, and definitely not horror. It wasn't like anything else people looked at me with, and the longer he stared the more uncomfortable I became.
"Umm, you know, I haven't seen or heard anything about your parents. Where are they now?"
Thankfully he blinked, and the look was gone. "Well, my father's rotting away in Azkaban. He was convicted of muggle torture just after I—" He broke off to cough. "Sorry, anyway, my mother got really sick and died a few months later. But you—" He had another coughing fit, and I patted his back a bit. "Thanks, your mother was kind enough to send me care packages—your family was very supportive."
For the first time I paused to wonder just why my family trusted him. It wasn't like he'd ever done anything to redeem himself for our Hogwarts years, but even Harry didn't call his motives into question. "I don't remember any of that." And why couldn't I remember it?
"Of course not," Malfoy said with a hint of depression in his voice. "I'm surprised you even let me within ten feet of you, what with you not remembering and the fact that I'm the son of a Deatheater."
Why did I let him in? Was it just because my family trusted him? But why did they? I stepped back and took everything in. He looked so vulnerable, so desperate for something. "You're not evil, at least not anymore." Another familiar stare. "Stop looking at me like that, as if I'm some sort of anomaly! My family trusts you, Harry trusts you though he'll never admit it. I've seen the reports, the ones you send weekly to Spencer. I might have lost some memories, but not my whole brain. My family trusts you."
"I should have realized you'd figure some things out by yourself." Malfoy tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow. "I'm terribly sorry; I've just done what so many others do, underestimated your abilities."
"Sometimes I think you overestimate them." I chided him. "I didn't think I'd actually survive dinner tonight. You and Harry do that." We climbed the stairs slowly, and it felt comfortable.
"What was he doing at your house that night? Doesn't he have a flat of his own?"
"He does. It's this tiny little thing and probably dirty as hell right now. He stays at our house a lot during the off season. I think being alone brings back bad memories of the war." A brief shudder passed through me. "And my parents like having someone else in the house, makes them feel useful."
"But you don't." We'd reached my door, but he held tight to my arm. "Don't deny it. You don't like having people in the house."
"I wasn't going to. No, I don't like it, not even when it's just family. People poke and pry at things best left alone. People want answers to things I don't remember. People cause problems." I sounded harsh, even to me. Malfoy wasn't like everyone else who just wanted good gossip, but that didn't mean he needed to ask the same questions.
"I'm terribly sorry for this evening. It didn't go as I'd planned; Pansy was more obstinate then usual. But you were magnificent. Good night, Miss Weasley."
He left me standing at the door as my emotions swam about, causing more chaos then ever. The girl in the mirror came back, her expression mocking me. Her challenge to find the truth stood as demanding as ever, and this time I wasn't so sure I didn't want to find it.
Okay, I have a question. Are there any serious writers/english junkies/probable editor wanna-be's out there who would like to beta one of my non-fanfiction stories. I would like to get a fresh view on it, but want someone who is serious about writing. Just put it in a review if your interested, or drop me an e-mail. Thanks! Allychik6