I have a secret, a deep and dark secret. I know you won't tell.
As you see me now, sitting on a bench in the sunlight, I am as myself. The bracelet that's throwing off fiery sparks from my wrist isn't from my dead great grandmother. The Malfoy crest on the underside of the clasp attests to that. The emeralds remind me not of Harry, though they should. The remind me of the green silk satin sheets in our bedroom here at the manor. Here I was not another freckle faced Weasley or another do-good Gryffindor. I am only me. Only Ginevra.
The scent of the lilacs by my shoulders smell so sweet it's almost noxious. The sun is setting over the forest and Lucius would come get me for dinner soon.
Surprised, are you? Expected me to be with the young Mr. Malfoy? Alas, he's still a prat. His manners are abhorrent and snobbish behaviors absurd. He was no fit heir. Lucius marked me as his own months ago and Draco doesn't matter at all. Narcissa doesn't matter at all. Who shares his bed every night? After all, what would Lucius say if Draco or his pretty little wifey said anything rude to his acknowledged mistress?
My parents think that I'm in France, interning for Gringott's. Lucius is good at setting up these kinds of influences. Technically, I was in France last week, sitting at Lucius' right hand at the vineyards. Who would believe that I, blood traitor little Ginny Weasley was one of only two female Death Eaters? Whomever the accuser was speaking to would call them crackers.
The perfect ruse.
But I won't be a Death Eater for long. Potter, Saint Potter is going to defeat my lord with our help. The world will be in chaos and who will step up as leader of the right side?
I saw Lucius make his way out from the house, head of his walking stick glinting in the impending dusk. I smiled, knowing that soon I would be the mate of the most powerful man in the world. Lucius, Lord Malfoy, predecessor of Tom, Lord Voldemort.
I let him come to me; I was not ready to go indoors yet.
"Business as usual?" I asked as he severed a lilac with a casual flick of his wrist.
"Our lord," he mocked, "is pleased with our progress in France. We'll go to Perpignon next week, would you like that, poppet?"
"Don't call me poppet. I'm not a doll," I snapped, inhaling the scent radiating from the fragrant blue-violet blossoms.
"Feisty this evening, are we?" he chucked, sitting next to me. My tongue darted out impishly and ran it over the upper curve of his ear, "Minx."
"You know you quite like it," I murmured, desperately wanting my lover's affections.
"Quite. But we've guests for dinner. They will be here shortly and you look a mess," he said, smoothing my skirt.
"Oh, who do we have tonight?" I asked, bored with the prospect of dignitaries.
"Friends," he said, with a wink.
"Oh?" my interest was piqued.
"Severus and Bellatrix for dinner. Rabastan will be joining us for afters."
"Afters? Will these afters be the chocolate soufflé that I saw Wingey making this afternoon or something that isn't quite as edible?" I asked, caressing him with my words, "You know Bella is so good with those silk scarves you love."
"And Severus…well you know his many talents," he whispered back, his hand coming to squeeze a breast.
"And for dinner?" I asked, lightly moaning at the rolling of my nipple between his long fingers.
"Oysters, fresh caught. Red potatoes. Asparagus," he muttered, clamping his teeth down on my pert nipple through the fabric of my dress.
"But dessert should be the best," I replied.
"Yes, it should, poppet. Yes it should."