Chapter 6
Ginny toyed with her food. It had gotten better in the past few days; there were vegetables and meat every now and then, but to Ginny it tasted the same. She ate it to keep up her strength, for when the time was right, she was going to get out of this hell-hole, whether she had to use a wand or her fingernails. She pushed the carrots across her plate and then speared them with a fork.
"Oh, Malfoy, you bloody git, I've got you now," she proclaimed in a high squeaky voice.
"Stop! No, I'll do anything for you, little traitor! Anything at all! Why, I'll turn yellow. Just don't eat me little traitor!" She squeaked and then laughed at herself. She was going a bit mental. She speared another carrot, seriously this time.
"Little blood traitor indeed." She muttered. She hadn't seen Draco since he had decided to teach her a lesson" and undoubtedly scar her forever (his intention, certainly), and she was immensely glad of that. She shivered delicately; a few times a day she felt his hands on her again, or smelled his aftershave. The moments filled her with fear, but her mind kept compulsively returning to them. She couldn't help but wonder when he would reappear.
It had been three days since her escape. Lucius had carried her bodily from the library to this room, which was considerably nicer than the first. There was a rather comfortable bed and a small desk with a chair, and multiple windows. Ginny was sure that these "comforts" still represented the dregs of the lavish home, but she was certainly glad of the bed. The elves had been bringing her clothes in the morning and evening as well as three balanced meals a day, and Ginny's mind felt clearer than ever. Clear enough to know that these changes could not possibly be good.
She walked over to the window, which was low-silled and large, and leaned against the frame, pressing her forehead against the warm glass. She could see Lucius and Narcissa riding over the hills just past the garden.
"What are scheming at, you creepy bastard?" shw whispered.
--
"My dear, I still don't understand why our son can't marry Daphne. She's a lovely girl, good connections, solid blood lines. There must be a way. Daphne would be perfect."
Narcissa Malfoy prided herself on perfection. It was her doing that the manor was immaculate, the gardens manicured, the table fastidious, and the manners of her household irreproachable. Her husband was powerful, her son handsome and ambitious, and the entire family cunning and ruthless and impeccably dressed. What more could a Black from the House of Slytherin want?
"My darling, I have tried to put this delicately. The Sang Primoris requires that Draco marry the girl who has never been in the bed of a—"
"And Daphne is beyond reproach! I had her checked out thoroughly before I invited her to visit and make our son's acquaintance. I'll have no common whore for a daughter-in-law, you know that Lucius."
"Then I suppose Miss Parkinson…" Lucius muttered under his breath.
"Pardon?"
"I mean, Narcissa," Lucius sighed, "Draco can't even marry a girl who has been in his bed."
"But, but then you mean? Draco?"
"Yes, my dear," Lucius was growing weary from all of this sighing, "Draco has had Daphne in his bed."
Narcissa turned pink.
"He gets that from your side, then." She kicked her horse and trotted ahead of Lucius, who flicked his reins to catch up.
"Darling, the point is that Draco needs a suitable pure-blooded wife who hasn't been with anyone at all, even him. I've no knowledge of young ladies, my dear. This is your area of expertise. Help me find Draco as perfect a wife for him as you are for me."
Narcissa smirked. Draco had clearly inherited that from both sides.
--
The characteristic smirk graced Draco's features as watched Daphne undress. The damage was done, he calculated, so he might as well enjoy the spoils. She joined him on the bed and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, grazing his skin with her fingernails. He hissed with pleasure.
Miss Greengrass, thinking she would soon be Mrs. Malfoy, threw the shirt on the floor. Draco flipped them over so that he was above her, and watched as she sank into the black and silver satin pillows and smiled lazily at him. He leaned down to kiss her and she met him eagerly. Slowly Draco trailed one hand down her side and Daphne willingly arched underneath him.
Draco closed his hand around her waist and was suddenly consumed by a desire to have Daphne gasp like the little traitor—like Ginny Weasley. He squeezed her waist and Daphne willingly arched up a little more. He kissed her again and ran his other hand down her side, and Daphne sighed.
"You know, my love, I think we ought to do something about these…" she whispered, reaching for Draco's belt, but he pushed her hands away.
"I want to hear you gasp, Daphne. I want you to gasp every time I touch you."
She blinked at his words. He repeated them, his voice dangerously low. He grasped her waist again, and Daphne blinked at him for a second, and then gasped too loudly and too showy. Frustrated, Draco wrapped his hand around her hip, but this time Daphne moaned.
"Draco, love, please let's get on with this. I've been waiting all day now…I want you."
Draco bore his eyes into hers.
"I need to clear my head."
He rolled off the bed and shrugged on his shirt. Daphne, confused, stared from the bed.
"But I thought…"
"You thought wrong, Daphne. This is all wrong. In fact, go home. I'll call you when I want you."
Daphne began to dress, seething with a cocktail of anger, hurt, and confusion. She would not be Draco's call girl. Whatever was going on with him tonight, and for the last few nights, she didn't like it. Perhaps it was time to pay a call to Narcissa. She'd have to be careful, though, and not mention the specific details…like the fact she and Draco were sleeping together. That would not go over well.
Fully dressed, Daphne gave Draco a peck on the cheek and apparated out of the room.
Draco walked out onto his balcony and leaned on the rail. It had to be the pressure, he mused. It wasn't so much his interactions with the Weasley traitor as how they played in to the larger scheme of things; the end game. With the way everything was working out, Draco new it wouldn't be long until years of hard work produced the ultimate pay-off. Of course, this marriage business was a problem, but by no means would it ruin their plans—no, it wouldn't even put them off schedule.
The cool summer air did its magic, and Draco's mind released his stress, his plans, his hopes, and without realizing it, the sound of Ginny Weasley's gasp. He stood up slowly and turned back to his bedroom. He was in the mood for Pansy.
--
"Draco, I've arranged for two young ladies to join us this evening for dinner. Please make sure that you are properly attired—and don't bring Daphne, dear."
Lucius smiled across the breakfast table at his wife. Narcissa was a quick worker. Draco, on the other hand, scowled.
"Honestly, Mother. I'm perfectly capable of choosing my own wife."
"Well, Draco, if you were a little less capable of other things…"
"Mother, please."
"Now, Draco, I only mean if you showed a little more control, why…"
"Bloody hell, Father, she can't be serious."
"Yes, Draco, your mother and I both are determined to find you an acceptable wife."
"Of course! There are a great many attributes required. She must be beautiful, intelligent, well-bred, perfectly mannered, share some interests, be of a good age, and meet the qualifications of that spell."
"By qualifications do you mean to tell me that I can't take them both upstairs and shag them senseless after dessert?" Draco drawled, raising a mischievous eyebrow.
"Draco Lucius Malfoy! I will not stand such vulgar talk at my breakfast table!"
Draco smirked. "I'm sorry, mother. Shan't happen again."
Narcissa nodded her forgiveness and silence reigned for a few moments until Lucius cut in,
"My dear, who are these young ladies?" Narcissa beamed.
"Well, they both come from excellent pure-blooded lineage, and they share your love of Quidditch, Draco. They both played chaser on their house team."
"Oh? And which team was that?"
"Hufflepuff."
Draco choked on his orange juice, and even Lucius nearly sloshed his tea all over his toast.
"You can't be serious. You are really trying to set me up with a pair of bloody chasers from fucking Hufflepuff! Honestly, what kind of mother—"
"Language at the table, Draco!" chided Narcissa, "and you didn't exactly make it easy for me. Miss Applebee and Miss Macavoy are lovely young women with pristine reputations. They are both suitable."
"Mother, I can assure you that Tamsin Applebee and Heidi Macavoy are not suitable. Have you seen them? I'd rather marry a cow. There is a reason for that 'pristine' reputation. Hermione Granger was prettier, and she was a mudblood."
Lucius's brow darkened and Narcissa angrily poured herself another cup of tea. Draco enjoyed the silence. At this rate he'd call Pans again within hours, and he hated to make her that happy.
Lucius cleared his throat. "There is another solution. Draco, we've both examined the runes and there is no need to remain married to this woman, whoever she is. You could end the marriage in a week, and marry whoever you want, Daphne included."
"Fine, but neither Applebee nor Macavoy would agree to that. Their families would cry foul if I tried to divorce them so quickly and it would be nasty publicity if I ended it by ending the bride." Narcissa looked horrified at her son.
"Yes, clearly," Lucius cut in before his wife could chastise Draco for even thinking about killing a perfectly innocent girl, "clearly we need a pure blooded woman who still has her innocence who has no family or friends around."
"You can't mean…"
"Yes, Draco. Exactly." It was Lucius' turn to smirk.
--
Ginny was pacing in her room. It was day four in the new room now and she hadn't seen a living soul but the elves, who were now terrified of her and popped in and out so fast that the trays teetered dangerous on the desk. "One, two, three, four, turn!" Ginny commanded herself. George had told her stories of prisoners who had wasted away from lack of movement, so Ginny decided to do her own odd form of calisthenics as often as she could.
The door suddenly swung open and caught her in the forehead.
"Damn," she cursed, rubbing her head, and stepped back to see the Malfoy she least expected.
"Well, I suppose we'll have to start by taming that plebian tongue, hm?"
Narcissa Malfoy drew her wand and bound Ginny's hands.
"I've heard from my son about your penchant for running away. We'll see that doesn't happen again." She used her wand again to levitate Ginny just off the ground and then, taking her elbow, marched her through the corridors of Malfoy Manor. Ginny was mystified. Not only were the Malfoy's a fearsome bunch, but they were also clearly a bit nutty.
Down one floor and through a maze of oak paneled halls, Narcissa pulled open a heavy wooden door and pushed Ginny inside. Removing the incantations, Narcissa directed Ginny through the room. It was the most fabulous bedroom that Ginny had ever seen. The furnishings were a delicate white and silver, and the walls were hung with a pale green print from floor to fifteen foot ceiling. Ginny was practically frog marched by the older woman into an attached bathroom, where she was faced with a pretty bathroom that matched the bedroom. Narcissa gestured to the bath.
"Start by cleaning up. I'll send a house elf up to assist you shortly, and a stylist will be here in an hour to begin. Any shenanigans and I'll have the footman come up and watch you bathe. Is that clear?"
Still puzzled, Ginny nodded. Narcissa left her alone and Ginny wonderingly. She sank down at the edge of the sunken tub and turned the taps on. Within seconds, a perfect bubble bath was before her, and the whole room smelled of roses. Ginny slipped out of her dirty clothes and sank into the warm water. Leisurely, she scrubbed off nearly ten days of grime and then sank under to wash her hair. When she arose, she found herself eye to eye with a little houself, and both of them jumped.
"Hel—hello miss. I is…I is Mimsy. Please do not-not jump on us, miss. We's is ascared of the thumpings and bumpings." Ginny swallowed. She hadn't considered the fate of the elves, and since it probably informed a pissed Draco Malfoy of her disappearance, she wondered if it was still living.
"No, no, I won't do any such thing. Don't be afraid."
The elf relaxed visibly and continued,
"If miss is finished, I help miss dress."
Dress? Ginny wondered. Something bad was happening. Narcissa wanted her to see a stylist. She hoped that this only meant she was going to see Voldemort again, then shivered. Perhaps they were going to give her to the Death Eaters as a plaything after all, and this was their way of preparing her. Panic seized her momentarily, and she gripped the most weapon like object she could find—a wooden hairbrush.
She toweled off without realizing it, and mechanically dressed in the beautiful green evening gown the elf presented her with. Maybe once she was at Voldemort's lair again she could find the other captive. Or captives. That was encouraging. Some of the Death Eaters were particularly dumb. Crabbe and Goyle would be easily parted from their wands, she was certain. Maybe, just maybe…
"Miss Weasley, this is Jacques, my personal stylist. He will make sure that you are prepared for tonight. Please make sure that you are on your best behavior. I understand that not everything will be pleasant, but if you are not civil I will place the Imperius curse upon you. Is that clear?"
Ginny didn't really hear everything that Narcissa said to her, for Draco was standing directly behind her, his eyes raking over her satin-encased body, taking in every inch of the low neckline and the deep green against the flaming red hair. He smirked evilly, and Ginny's blood ran cold.
"Now, Mother, really. Don't you think that I should be the one to imperio my fiancé?"
--
A/N: Whew, that one was hard to write. Not sure why, but let me know how I did. I LOVE my reviewers! You all did such a nice job of making me happy that even though it was hard, I did it. So I'll dedicate this chap to all of you. YAY! Let's hit 40, shall we? Did somebody say 45? Oh my!
ANNNNND not many of you told me if you think I should continue with Draco as he is or make him a little nicer. The general consensus was to continue, but I'm still curious as to what you all think. Maybe if no one tells me otherwise, I'll make him get really sweet the moment they get married, and he'll turn from his wicked ways, make sweet love to Ginny, have a bunch of cute constellation-monikered kids with strawberry blonde hair, and make pancakes for Ginny every morning. (HINT: DON'T MAKE ME WRITE THAT.)
--aerie.