CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Ministry of Magic
London, England
December 8, 2003 – Monday Morning
Gin appeared in my doorway again, her face a cross between uncertainty and concern, another newspaper in her hand. I held out my hand, firming up my emotions, expecting the worst.
Malfoy Heir Breaks Off Engagement
No picture of him this time, but there was a rather lovely image of Astoria trying to duck from the flashbulbs of reporters, tears dripping down her alabaster cheeks. Her left hand was bare of ornamentation, and she seemed extremely distraught as she held her hand up to the side of her face and rushed away. Probably been lamenting the loss of all those Galleons, I sniffed with disdain.
I really didn't like prissy, little Astoria Greengrass. I hadn't back in school, when she'd run in Pansy Parkinson's vile gang along with her older sister, and as an adult, that dislike had only doubled - especially after the little show she'd put on in the Aurors' Main Office that day I'd seen her clinging like a weed to Draco. So, holding back the Schadenfreude now at the witch's misery was like asking the moon to pause in her motion.
"Now that's a grin worthy of a serpent," my BFF pointed out with some amusement.
I put the paper down and glanced at her. "If anyone would know," I winked, feeling a strange euphoria overtake my mood.
My best girl friend and her boy-toy Zabini had been through a rough patch there after the whole Halloween thing, but once she'd explained she'd been at the club that night merely to cheer me, and not to party down with a man, he'd forgiven her. Her neck had been covered with the evidence of his full claim upon her the next day. Now, on her right hand, there was a promise ring, given just this last week. They'd been officially dating since September, when she'd taken my advice and gotten him to go out with her a few times sans the sex stuff, but that ring had upped the ante in their relationship, taking it to a higher level. Basically, they'd gone exclusive. I was rather happy for her, if not a bit sad for Harry, who'd thrown all of his concentration into his work once he'd heard the news, avoiding any outside socializing, mourning in his habitual "lone wolf" way.
Harry… Ron…
It seemed my two boys were moving away from me the older we got. We'd spent all our time together in our teens, to the point of near suffocation, but the growing pains didn't end with our leaving childhood behind at Hogwarts. Perhaps, it was best for all three of us to move apart for a bit, to give each other some breathing room so we could mature into the people we were meant to be for the rest of our lives. I loved Harry and would definitely be there at his side, as always, if he needed me, but I wouldn't push myself on him unless he seemed in dire trouble. If there were two things he'd resent during this period in his life, they would be pity and too much smothering. As for my ex-husband, yes, I still cared for Ron, despite it all. We'd weathered the war to end all wars at each other's side, after all. I thought it might be possible for us to one day pick back up our friendship. We would never be as close, but we could be amicable.
Time, I suppose, would tell in both cases.
"So, does this mean you're getting back with blondie?" Gin asked, putting her booted feet up on the corner of my desk and leaning back in the chair across from me. "Are you going to switch again for him?"
I glanced back down at the headline of The Prophet's front page, letting the words burn into my retinas. Draco had broken it off with Greengrass just a day after our run-in at The Alley. He must have done it the next day… which would explain the lack of a response to my note.
It hit me then: this was his reply. Call it another hunch, but I knew he was letting me know he was once more available in the boldest way a Slytherin could. Going public – leaving his reputation open to ridicule for committing such a social faux pas as dumping his fiancée just two weeks after their initial announcement to wed - left no doubt to the fact that he'd meant it when he'd claimed to want me back.
Still, knowing that, I shook my head to Gin's question. I had no intention of exclusively playing the role of the submissive again. However, if he wanted to meet on equal terms… I told Ginny my plan. She thought it was a sure-thing.
X~~~X
The Ministry of Magic
London, England
December 10, 2003 – Wednesday Afternoon
I stared at the ticket in my hand, and once more was swamped with indecision. It was June all over again, only this time, I was the gift-giver and not the receiver.
Taking a deep breath, I put the voucher in an envelope, sealed it and left my office for the elevator up to the Main Lobby. The Ministry's 24-Hour Owl Delivery Service wasn't cheap (a new addition after the war, too, situated just to the left of the newsstand), but I didn't own an owl of my own to send out correspondence because, frankly, Crooks would stage a coup that would end in an empty cage and a few feathers littering the bottom if I attempted to bring one home. Besides, the owls here were nondescript – a variety that any wizarding postal shop carried. Draco wouldn't know the note was from me until he opened the envelope, as I'd planned. That way, there was less chance of it being intercepted by someone who didn't want him to see me, or of him throwing it away, if things weren't at all as I was assuming.
"Oh, Miss Granger," the man behind the counter caught me before I turned and jogged back to work. "This arrived for you this morning." He handed me an envelope and had me sign for it, apologizing for the lateness of the delivery, using the excuse that he'd been backed up because one of his employees had called in ill today.
I immediately took the envelope down to my office for privacy, recognizing the linen paper, and knew who had sent it to me even without the additional of a rose this time. I prayed I hadn't just made a mistake in sending him a ticket to this weekend's Carnival. I mean, what if this was a letter telling me he was moving to Iceland to be with his other witch - some blonde goddess named 'Angelique' or some ridiculous crike like that?
With my string of bad luck this year, that really wasn't so farfetched a possibility.
Inside Malfoy's note was a ticket for this weekend's Carnival of Naughty Sins: 'Superbia,' also known as 'Pride'– the final sin.
I laughed out loud, held the rectangular square to my chest and did something completely uncharacteristic: I jumped up and down, squealing with excitement. It was rather an undignified response, but I couldn't seem to help it.
Having gotten that out of my system, I calmly marched over to Ginny's office to let her in on the news - and to get her aid in finding an appropriate outfit for this Saturday's special occasion.
TO BE CONTINUED…