May 9, 2014
Author's Note: Reviews appreciated!
Double-Pointed Needles
Chapter Two: Knit One, Purl One
The next day, Ginny was determined to knit a decent sock. She went out to the gardens to focus and get some sunshine, missing the feel of the wind in her hair, the scent of the outdoors. It was the off-season for Quidditch, and her team was taking a month-long break in practices. This gave her nothing to do at home except entertain Narcissa, and since pleasing her was impossible, Ginny wandered outside to be alone instead.
Draco had disappeared earlier that morning to attend to something urgent at work, and she might have resented him for it just a tad. Narcissa still didn't know that Draco worked for the International Magical Trading Standards Body within the Department of International Magical Cooperation. (He'd wanted to go into law, but people had been hesitant to put a Malfoy in a position where he could manipulate laws and influence the Minister, so he'd settled for trade instead.) No Malfoy in at least two centuries had had the need for employment, and Draco should have followed in that tradition. However, he'd seen that the value of a career lay not in monetary compensation, but in the relationships he built between himself and people at the Ministry, so he'd done the unthinkable.
His father was in prison and his mother had fled the country; that only left Draco to pick up the pieces of his family's shredded reputation. It had become important to him, when he'd been alone after the war, to rebuild the Malfoy empire on honesty (as much as he could afford) and hard work (without resorting to physical labor). He'd just never gotten around to telling Narcissa about it.
Ginny grumbled to herself as she wrestled with her yarn. She wielded the needles with a lack of grace, and the yarn kept falling off and unraveling.
"I just don't understand why you insist on knitting," Narcissa said with a sniff.
Ginny jumped and her needles clattered to the ground.
She continued. "Embroidery would be a more sophisticated use of your time."
"Embroidery is purely decorative. At least knitting makes something people can use," Ginny spat as she picked up the fallen needles. A moment later, she remembered who she was talking to and glanced up cautiously. "I mean, I don't know how to sew, but I already know how to knit."
One of Narcissa's brows lifted in sardonic disbelief. "That's debatable," she said, eying Ginny's lumpy, shrunken sock.
Ginny felt her cheeks burn. "I just need to practice a little. I used to be a decent knitter. Somewhat."
"I suppose we'll see." She began to turn away and then stopped, a strange look in her eyes. "I'm going out for the afternoon to visit some old friends. Do let Draco know when he returns?"
"Of course," Ginny replied. She hated lying to Narcissa, so she focused on untangling her yarn, too guilty to meet the other woman's eyes.
Carefully, Narcissa said, "I was hoping to spend the day with him instead, but I suppose he made other plans. More important plans than his mother."
She was fishing for information now, and Ginny wasn't sure what to say. All Draco had told her to tell Narcissa was that he would be back soon, but he'd been gone for at least two hours already. He should have told his mother about his job instead of leaving his wife in the awkward position of making excuses for him.
Ginny looked up and smiled—she hoped the smile was convincing. "He didn't tell me his plans either, so I hope that means he's bringing home a surprise! Sometimes he's spontaneous like that, and it's the sweetest thing."
"Hmph. Well, I'll be back by dinner. Tell Draco that I don't like surprises."
As Narcissa left, Ginny identified the look that had been in her eyes. Distrust. Narcissa sensed the false note in their charade. The realization made Ginny's stomach cramp because the last thing she needed was for her mother-in-law to figure out the lie after all the effort they'd put into it.
As soon as she was sure Narcissa had left, Ginny went upstairs to change her clothes from the highly restricting robes she was currently wearing into something loose and grubby. Then she went back to the gardens, past the bench she'd been sitting on earlier, past the fountain where the peacocks liked to bathe, all the way to the back. She and Draco had replaced the finicky flowers that needed lots of attention for shrubs and fruit trees that required a little less attention, and the plot of land in the back of the garden housed the fruits and vegetables to which they devoted their time. Special care was taken to fertilize the soil, protect the crops while they were growing, and then harvest them when they were ready. Malfoy ladies might have grown flowers as their special hobby, but Weasley women liked to put their hands in the soil and pull out a feast.
Draco found her there a couple hours later, dirt smudged on her gardening robes and face, a pile of carrots and potatoes beside her.
"Ginny, what—"
She looked up, and she knew she looked like a naughty Niffler sitting in a hole in the middle of the parlor floor. Draco just knelt down next to her, frowning in disapproval.
"You were at work and your mother went out," she explained as he removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped dirt off her jaw. "I got tired of failing at knitting."
Draco shook his head, but he seemed to be struggling with a smile.
"What?" she asked defensively. "Ladies can tend gardens, Draco."
"Yes," he replied, taking his handkerchief to her nose now. "But real ladies use magic to keep from getting dirty."
"Well, if they're so worried about getting dirty, maybe they should keep cacti instead of roses."
"We don't even keep roses, darling."
She waved away his meddlesome hand and pulled out her wand. "You know what I mean."
He followed her as she levitated the potatoes and carrots back into the manor. "What would my mother say if she saw you looking like this?" he asked, a reprimand in his voice.
"Probably, 'Oh, Ginevra. I don't see why you insist on gardening. Embroidery would be a more sophisticated use of your time!'"
That brought out the smirk Draco wore while trying to suppress a laugh. "Has she already said that to you today?"
"Today, last night. I'll probably hear it again when she sees all the progress I've made on my knitting since she's been out. Oh, by the way, she asked where you were, and I told her you were going to surprise us."
"But she hates surprises."
"Yes, she told me to tell you that. But now you need to come up with one to explain why you were gone all morning."
In the kitchen, Ginny began to wash off her harvest, and Draco rolled up his sleeves to help her. They lapsed into silence, the sound of the running water and their scrubbing filling the kitchen. They often spent their afternoons just like this—working in the garden after work and practice, and then fixing dinner together with whatever they'd reaped. Draco usually did most of the cooking while Ginny offered whatever assistance she could along with the pleasure of her company. Sometimes dinner got delayed because he enjoyed her company a little too much and forgot about the pots sitting on the stove or the pan in the oven.
"It's times like these I almost wish we had a house-elf," Draco said, his smile turning the comment into a joke.
"I like to do things myself sometimes, without help or magic," Ginny replied.
His smile turned into something more serious. "I know." And then after a moment he added, "Me too."
Ginny couldn't help her own lips from turning up at that. The Malfoys had had their house-elves stripped from them as repercussions for the war—the Ministry hadn't wanted Draco and his family to have any sort of power over other living beings if at all possible. Draco had had to learn, quickly, how to take care of himself and survive on his own. Narcissa certainly hadn't been around to help him, either. She didn't even know the man that Draco had become since then.
"You're the only help I need," she said, focusing intently on the potato in her hands. Yet, she could still feel Draco's gaze on the side of her face, and when he placed a gentle kiss on her temple, she looked at him, pleased and surprised.
"I could say the same for you."
By the fourth day of Narcissa's visit, Ginny was ready to get back to Quidditch training, which wouldn't resume for another two weeks. She'd resorted to sneaking out to the garden a couple hours after Narcissa retired for the night to check on her crops. With her hands buried in the soil, dirt under her fingernails, impractical robes replaced with a less restrictive garment, she felt relaxed for the first time all day long. As soon as she woke up every morning, she had to remind herself of the day ahead, steel herself for Narcissa's passive aggressive judgmental remarks, and numb herself to Draco's cold indifference. But at night, with a slight breeze blowing through her free-flowing hair, her hands occupied in the damp dirt, she could be herself and she didn't have to pretend for anyone. It was almost as good as flying a broom, anyway.
At breakfast the morning of the sixth day, Narcissa swept into the dining room and sat down across from Ginny.
"You will have to entertain yourself this morning, Draco. Ginevra and I are going shopping," she announced as she blithely buttered her toast.
"We are?" Ginny asked.
Draco shot her a reprimanding look. "That sounds lovely. I think Ginevra needed some new dress robes for the Notts' party next Saturday."
Ginevra. Draco hadn't called her Ginevra since before they'd started dating, when he'd done it strictly to annoy her. Ginny must have been too common a name to speak in front of his mother, so now she was made to feel like a little girl being scolded every time he mentioned her.
"That was just what I was thinking!" Narcissa said.
Ginny watched her throughout the rest of breakfast, wondering why she seemed so happy today. It couldn't be because of the prospect of spending time with Ginny. Narcissa had never shown any pleasure where Ginny was concerned at all, from the day she and Draco had announced their engagement to the present.
Narcissa ate a quick breakfast and then stood up. "Don't dawdle. We have a busy day ahead."
Ginny stared after her as she left the room, and then she turned her gaze to Draco, who shrugged, confused as well.
They left half an hour later, each of them Apparating to Diagon Alley and arriving in front of the Leaky Cauldron. Ginny had to steady herself against a wall to compose her breathing. Disapparation was already uncomfortable enough, but to squeeze herself in and out of nothingness while wearing a corset? She clamped her mouth shut to keep herself from vomiting afterward.
Narcissa hardly seemed to notice. "I think we'll start with Madam Malkin's," she said as she took off down the alley.
Ginny sucked in a deep breath and followed until she and Narcissa walked side by side.
In Madam Malkin's shop, Narcissa made it her goal to outfit Ginny in the most fashionable (meaning the least comfortable) robes. Draco hadn't been lying about the Notts' party in three days, and Ginny supposed Narcissa didn't want to be embarrassed by her daughter-in-law if she could help it. Narcissa, too, helped herself to something beautiful and decorative for the party, and Ginny thought about what a waste of Galleons their clothing was. Did they really need that expensive lace on the sleeves? What was the point in hand-sewn crystals decorating the bodices?
At least while they were in the shop they didn't have to speak much. Narcissa was too busy talking about fabrics and shapes and colors with Madam Malkin to bother Ginny, which was a relief, honestly. She had nothing in common with Draco's mother, with her interests or her life, and the less they spoke to each other, the less likely it was that Ginny would accidentally reveal the ruse.
The biggest test of the charade so far appeared as they were leaving the shop.
"Ginny!" a voice called behind them.
Ginny froze, recognizing the voice immediately. She should have ignored it and carried on, but she'd already stopped in the middle of the road, and Narcissa was turning around to see what was holding her up. So Ginny turned, too, to face Harry, who had called her name, along with Ron and Hermione.
Ron laughed. "What's that you're wearing? Going to a fancy dress party, are you?"
Narcissa returned to Ginny's side, her nose held high. "Ginevra?"
"Oh, we're interrupting you. Sorry! We'll let you go," Hermione said, grabbing hold of Ron and Harry's arms and pulling them away. Bless Hermione for noticing when company wasn't wanted.
And damn Ron for being obstinate. "What? I can't say hello to my own sister? It's not like I haven't seen her in ages!"
"She's busy, Ron," Hermione hissed.
"Yes, I'm busy right now," Ginny replied, lifting her chin and glaring down her nose at her brother and friends imperiously. It was a bit difficult to do since all three of them were taller than her, but the message must have come across loud and clear.
Ron's face showed dawning realization, and Harry looked from Ginny's grim expression to Narcissa and back again. "Yeah, let's get out of here, mate."
But Ron, stubborn as usual, had to have the last word. "Will we see you Saturday at least?"
Ginny froze, and she didn't know what kind of expression she wore. Of course she would see them on Saturday. They'd all been invited to Theo and Luna's party, but how did she explain their presence there to Narcissa? She was certainly expecting a sophisticated, high-class affair—and it would be exactly that. But Narcissa wouldn't see the playacting and mockery in the charade. Theo was throwing the party because he had the money to, and everyone was dressing up for the sake of it. It was something he did every year for his birthday, and this year the celebration would be even bigger with a baby on the way, too.
Remembering that she'd been asked a question, Ginny shook herself out of her thoughts, forced herself to put on a mask, and said as hatefully as she could, "I should hope not! We don't associate with people like you."
The three of them stood there, shocked by her response, and Ginny hated herself for it—maybe even Draco, too, for making her behave this way.
As the boys turned away, confused and hurt looks on their faces, Hermione said with an embarrassed smile, "Sorry for bothering you, Mrs. Malfoy. Ginny." She said Ginny's name with a raised eyebrow, one that said, We demand an explanation later.
"The nerve of them!" Ginny muttered furiously while they were still within earshot. Ron looked back at her, his uncertainty now anger. Ginny had to clench her fists at her sides to keep them from shaking. She hadn't meant to hurt them, but a real Malfoy wouldn't be friends with Harry Potter, Muggleborns, or blood-traitors.
Narcissa glanced down at Ginny's hands and then back to her eyes. "Indeed," she said, but Ginny had the distinct feeling that she hadn't bought Ginny's act.
What the hell was a real Malfoy, anyway?
TBC
Author's Note 2: Time for a little shameless plug... The DG Forum is hosting a summer writing challenge for anyone interested in writing for Draco/Ginny! Rules, timeline, and details can be found on the forum! (Link to the forum is in my profile.) I hope you'll check it out! There's going to be lots of writing and awards and it's going to be fun! (OR ELSE...!)