Disclaimer: Not mine, but you should know it already by now.
Author's note: I'm so sorry for the immensely long wait, but I have an explanation! I had planned this chapter to be the 16th, and the fifteenth to be about Bella and Rodolphus, but that didn't work out, somehow, and so I posted this instead, now. Read and enjoy!
Chapter 15: Gabrielle and Draco
He was walking through the crowds of the engagement party, his best dark robes billowing around him as he was followed with eyes full of distaste. He wasn't used to that. After all, he was usually one of the best-respected characters in the magical society; respected for his money, his knowledge, his looks, and mostly for his bachelorhood. But now that last one was nearing to its end.
And about time it was, he would say himself; he was nearing his thirtieth birthday now, and after the devastating wars that had shaken their world a decade ago it would be a waste of perfectly good wizard genes if he didn't have a family. He hadn't even noticed it before they started to make the list of people to invite to the engagement party — at first he had suggested they only invite his family, but then he realised they met his mother too often to throw a party where she'd be the only guest.
And now the ballroom of his house was filled with her family, and so was the drawing room, and so was the entrance hall, and so were probably the salon, and the dining room, and the main everyday living room, and so many other rooms. And soon they would all be his family, too. He was really horrified, thinking of that day.
Alright, the French weren't that bad. They knew how to behave — when to smile, when to make compliments, when to sip their champagne, and when to turn the talk to the weather. That was alright with him. What he didn't like was the fact that sooner than his brain would manage it, he would be related (again, and more closely than ever before) to the Weasleys.
He had been so certain that nothing could come of their relationship when he first met her that he hadn't even fought against this feeling. It had been a usual day, and he had been working at the reception at St. Mungo's. The tiny blonde had Apparated not in the correct spot for that, but behind the receptionist's desk, next to him.
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"Monsieur, aidez moi! Une voiture des Moldu… et ma mère…" she had blabbed, then, without further explanation she had grabbed his arm, and Apparated them both to the scene.
It took Draco a moment to understand what was going on, and what had happened there. A breathtakingly beautiful woman, almost identical to the beauty that had fetched Draco if only seeming somehow a little older, was standing in the middle of the road in the Muggle part of London. She seemed frozen to place, immobile. Obvious symptoms of shock, Draco said in his mind.
What had shocked the woman was strewn all over the place. Bits of metal, and rubber, and plastic had flown as high as to the third floor windows of the surrounding houses. And amidst all this, still in the middle of the street, lay four battered and bloody bodies — a middle-aged woman wearing a widow's black, and three children, the eldest looking about seven years old. A group of Muggles had already gathered around them, and from somewhere he could hear the sirens of Muggle police and ambulance.
Quickly, Draco drew out his wand; not worrying about how many Muggles saw him do it. He placed it on the Hospital emblem on the front of his robes, and with a few chosen words sent the message to the Emergency Squad of St. Mungo's, and to the Muggle Liaison Office at the Ministry.
Moments later several pops of apparition told him that his receptionists' job was done. Only then did he notice that the blonde was still clinging to his arm with her shaking hands.
He led her over to the side, and they sat down on the pavement. Draco uncorked the small vial of Calming Draught that all employed Healers had to have with them at all times, and forced it down the woman's throat.
She sat a moment in silence, and then smiled to him.
"Merci beaucoup, Monsieur. Je ne sais pas que j'ai dû avoir…" she said in quick French.
"I don't understand a word," Malfoy replied, shaking his head.
"Ah! Vous ne parlez pas de français? Avez-vous de parchemin?" she asked, pretending writing to make him understand.
"No, I'm sorry, but I don't speak French," Malfoy replied again, not understanding. "But I need you to fill in some forms about the accident. Do you think we can do it?" he asked, taking out some rolls of parchment from a pocket of his lime-green robe.
"Merci!" she said, grabbing the parchment from him, taking out her wand, and placing its tip on the clean side of the parchment carefully. "Reddo fre-eng," she said, and the wand remained balancing on its tip on the parchment.
She quickly explained this to Draco.
"Ma belle-sœur a composée ce sortilège, pour notre conversations. Elle aussi travaille à St. Mungo's. Vous la connaissez?" she asked quickly.
"I'm sorry, but I don't speak French," Draco answered once more, staring at her hair and wondering where he had seen such before.
The woman chuckled at that, then tugged at his hand, and indicated to the piece of parchment on the pavement between them. Her wand was scribbling away on it.
Draco quickly read through what was written there (at least those parts that were in English). She was fascinated about the spell; if there was one to do the translating between French and English, it could be accosted to any other language, too. She needed to meet the creator of the spell.
"Your sister-in-law? I might know her. What's her name?"
"Hermione Weasley," he read from the parchment, and his eyes shot up to the beautiful and pale face of the stunning blonde.
"You're not a Weasley," he said, as if trying to convince himself in that.
"Bien sur, mais ma soeur est s'épousée d'un," she answered, and he had to lower his gaze to the parchment to find out that "Of course not, but my sister is married to one."
"So, I'm Gabrielle Delacour," appeared on the parchment as she introduced herself. "And you?"
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He had been so convinced that he could never hold dear anything remotely resembling something that the Weasleys loved. So he had had nothing against this little thank-you-dinner that Gabrielle had suggested after the paperwork had been done. And then one dinner had led to another, then movies, then the theatre, then Madam Puddifoots'. Draco had been forced to buy two more owls to get all his letters to the recipient. And then she had come and said that she needed a place to stay at in England for a week, and he had offered the guest room of his manor.
And now it was their engagement party. He hadn't asked her to marry him, yet, he had decided he'd do it here, in front of everyone. She knew he wanted it that way, and she respected his decision. So he made his way to the centre of the room where Gabrielle was sitting at a table and parchment-conversing with some kids of the Weasleys.
He walked there, and indicated for her to stand up. She did.
With a wave of his wand a freezing cold breeze flew through the entire manor, gathering everyone's attention. Draco was nervous, naturally, as all eyes truned to him.
He took the golden argil out of his robes, and started.
"This get-together was proclaimed as an Engagement Party," he said, putting his hand on Gabrielle's waist, "but as of now, none of the people here are engaged. I need to clear that mistake."
He smiled nervously, as he got down on one knee and looked up into the pale face and clear eyes of the woman he loved. Silent sobbing was heard from the direction where Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Malfoy, and Mme Delacour stood in each other's embrace.
"Gabrielle Delacour, will you marry me?"
"Oui, certainement," she answered, letting him slide the diamond ring on her finger before forcing him up and kissing him.
Author's note: I'm not perfectly happy with this chapter. Neither was my beta, but she has the right not to like it, because she's an avid Hermione/Draco shipper. I'm not, so I don't know why I don't like this.
Did you like it? And why not? All constructive criticism is welcome!