September 2005
Ginevra Malfoy took a dim view of procrastination. She was similarly disapproving of shirking one's duties, especially when they stood to bring real harm to those around them. That she herself had been putting off visiting her mother with the expectation that additional time was going to soften the difficulty of her confession was nothing short of ironic. Particularly as she knew it would do no good and Ginny had the sinking suspicion her mother would not appreciate the tardiness in any event. It was with such feelings that the witch stepped out of her mother's fireplace to a thoroughly mundane domestic scene. Her mother engaged in the age-old tradition of preparing a hearty supper. From the ingredients laid out, Ginny could only suppose fortifying stew was on the menu; a dish that could have never failed to lift a child's dark mood, no matter the dire circumstances. Ginny's eyes filled with tears at the thought even as she struggled to blink away such an unsightly display before her mother turned and saw her there.
But clearly daughter had not given mother enough credit. Whatever instinct drove Molly Weasley, she must have possessed in spades, for she paused for the faintest of moment before she turned and a welcoming smile broke across her face. Ginny hurried forward, eager for the customary embrace such events brought and not only for the comfort it provided. As her mother greeted her warmly, she closed her eyes against tears, willing them away from the bottom of her heart. "Why, I thought you'd be in Paris still."
It took a trifle longer than she liked to be certain of her voice enough to venture an uncharacteristically meek, "There's been a slight change of plans and I returned ahead." Yet by the time mother released her from the hug, she had mastered herself enough that most outward signs of distress were safely hidden. Ginny did not attempt a smile, for even her improved acting skills and the polish acquired at a thousand functions could not fool the woman before her. Leastwise not where she was concerned; she had to gather her courage and make the first step.
"You look rather pale, pet," mother spoke up before she could follow through with her resolve. "Come, sit here and have some tea." All her protests were brushed aside with a light, "It's no French cuisine, I admit, but you'll feel just the thing, all the same, Trust me." And so, Ginny wrapped her hands around a steaming cup, eyeing its dark contents appreciatively after the first sip. "Now tell me all about it; did you manage to drop by the Delacours?"
Unable to help herself, Ginny smiled, though not as wide as she generally might have been expected to. Her mother-in-law would have been appalled at the fact the grand function had not taken precedence over a mere social call. "Indeed, I did. They were all that is good and kind. I had the hardest time convincing them there was no need to send any gifts on with me; certainly nothing more than their compliments, though I could not quite avoid all on it. In consequence, Madame Apolline would like you to have this." She pulled out a small book and handed it to her mother who took a few moments to peruse both the gold lettering on the handsome cover and the contents within, smiling with obvious pleasure as she did so.
"How thoughtful of her; I must find something to gift her in return." As her mother rattled off several options which she dismissed just as quickly, Ginny took another sip of her tea, enjoying the mellow hint of mint. "Well, I'll be; nothing seems to work!" Molly exclaimed. She wrung her hands nervously for a brief moment, then shook her head. "No matter. I'm sure something will come to me. Did you manage more than a short visit this time?"
Ginny swallowed with some difficulty. "Unfortunately not." Her voice came out rather weak. She cleared her throat in a desperate bid to set it to rights. "I could not spare above half an hour. You know my husband's schedule hardly permits much self-indulgence." The older woman gave her a long look. Ginny felt cold sweat gather at her nape and she shifted in her seat. "Really, mum, Christmas will come around soon enough and that visit will be plenty long." Not to mention plenty eventful, as such gathering tended to run in the Weasley household.
"True enough. And that function of yours, how did that go?" her mother prodded after a moment's pause. She was nevertheless dividing her attention between the stew and her daughter, thus Ginny found more of her courage waning, as she struggled to describe the events of the past few evenings. "That sounds lovely. And did your husband claim a dance?"
"He could hardly avoid it," she answered softly. "In any event, he wasn't the only one who asked. We ended up bumping into Harry, if you'd believe that. It seems he is working very closely with Gawain Robards now. And yes, mum, before you ask, his dancing is much improved." It did not hold a candle to Draco's, who seemed to have been born with natural grace and then thoroughly polished in the intervening years, but Ginny had no complaints.
"Wretched witch; I do wish he would visit more often," Molly sighed. "I hardly see my youngest anymore. You are forever occupied with your husband's affairs, Harry has his Auror work and Ron, bless his heart, puts his all into helping George." Spoken like a mother whose nest had emptied. Ginny attempted to comfort her, all thoughts of laying her troubles at mother's feet suffering a quick demise. She could not bring herself to admit to the turmoil which had pushed her to excuse herself from staying the additional couple of days in France. Nor could she, in good conscience, bring up the actual reason for her visit.
"Never fear, he will come to your Christmas dinner, if not for his godson, then certainly for your delicious pie," Ginny teased, pleased to note the smile on her mother's face. She thereafter kept up a steady stream of conversation, careful that talk never steered beyond safe topics. Any hope of comfort or aid aside, the tea was drunk and conventional subjects spent. Ginny busily cast about for something else to say, but came up short time and again. In the end, she settled for an elegant exist, having neither unburdened herself, nor gained consolation. "I ought to be going. There are further engagements that awaiting me," she lied through her teeth.
"Always running about, you are. Really, Ginny, I hate to mention it, but you look rather fagged out. Why not delay?" Despite the well-intention suggestion facing no challenge, Ginny excused herself nevertheless.
"I'll be by again soon enough," she insisted, kissing her mother's cheek as she was led to the fireplace.
It took but a moment to state her desired destination and be engulfed in flames. Ginny carefully kept her elbows tucked in, not the least bit desirous of lose any small part in the transportation process. Fortunately, she made it to the other side all in one piece, stepping out into the dimly lit corridor of Malfoy Manor which served to welcome all those who would step within by such means. Dusting herself off lightly, Ginny was not the least bit surprised to find Patty, one of house-elves, bounding up to her with a cheerful greeting. In a trick she had the floors and fireplace cleaned. Once upon a time the spot would have seen much traffic and needed quite a bit of attention, but since the end of the war and the relative seclusion of the Malfoys a single house-elf had been assigned the duty to check and clean every other day.
Patting the little elf on the head, Ginny send her off to her other duties, assuring Patty she could find her way to her rooms and would need no further attention. In truth, she longed in equal parts to be alone and to be offered comfort. Unable to decide which of the two tugged strongest at her, Ginny was forced to retreat in her bedchamber and give herself over to the care of cool, smooth pillows. Almost she wished she hadn't left Paris and her husband. Draco, at least, could make her forget. Closing her eyes against the bitterness of disappointment and sorrow, she forced herself to step back from the situation and observe it in an objective way as her mother-in-law had advised her.
She was young and healthy. There would be other children. And she hadn't even been aware of the loss until it was much too late to do anything about it. Ginny could not even begin to imagine the strength Narcissa required to recover after losing a child as near to the delivery term as she had. Just as well that her own pregnancy had been much less developed.
Tossing and turning until she'd managed to trap herself in the sheets, Ginny finally settled on her side with a dissatisfied sigh. The fact her husband's familiar scent still lingered on the pillow helped but very little; she had settled on his side for the express purpose of giving that bit of comfort but it seemed nowhere near enough. Somehow, despite herself, she fell into a dreamless slumber and slept so long that when she came to the moon sat high in the sky. Weariness still clung to her as she forced her way out of bed and grimaced at her clothes.
There was no call for sloppiness, whatever her mood. With that thought in mind, Ginny divested herself of the offending articles, leaving them neatly folded on a chair so one of the house-elves could take them for a good wash. She stepped into the bathroom adjoining the bedchamber and washed herself thoroughly under a hot shower, scrubbing with rather more vigour than needed. If it made her feel no lighter than before, Ginny did not pay that heed. She dried and then clothed herself for an uneventful evening in, pushing all unpleasant thought aside.
She summoned Debbie, with a request to take care of the laundry, if she would be so kind. "And please send someone up with a cup of cacao."
"But young mistress, you've barely had a bite all day," the she-elf protested.
Her worries were dismissed with a vague wave of the hand. "Don't fret, I am simply not hungry. There is always tomorrow." Ginny tried for a smile, but she could tell Debbie was unconvinced. Nevertheless, the little elf could not stand against her and was forced to go on to her duties.
Alone once more, Ginny considered her itinerary for the upcoming day. She had secured an appointment with Healer Cressida Powell early in the morning. That, at least saved her the trouble of fretting all day over that matter. She would then travel to that little tearoom she had spotted during her last time there and have a cup alongside Luna, who'd returned from her latest adventure and was positively dying to see her, at least that was what she wrote. The rest of the day would be divided between preparation for the family's return and inspection of some books which Narcissa recommended her.
When Debbie returned, she was carrying a small tray upon which sat a solitary cup along with a small pot. Ginny excused her as soon as it was safely placed upon the table and served herself, not entirely unmoved by the delicious smell. A dash or caramel and a pinch of cinnamon rounded up the taste. While it in no measure aided in settling her troubles, Ginny found herself much pleased by the boost, small thought it was. She found that she could stomach a second cup with no issue and settled in for some light reading, just enough to aid her in falling asleep.
Among the many advantages of her position, Ginny counted private waiting rooms as an unlooked-for blessing. Had anyone told her years ago she could be disgustingly thankful for the small mercy of just such a haven she'd have scoffed, probably even saying she needed no such hiding place. A far wiser Ginny could see the wisdom of just such a gift, as the door to Cressida Powell's cosy little consolation room opened and she was called within.
With one elegant flick of her robes, Ginny stood to her feet and entered, appreciative of the cordial welcome she found within. The renowned healer shook hands with her, allowing for a brief observation of her would-be patient's part. She did not, in truth, fit the part of wise witch, Ginny considered, eyeing the sharp smile which held an almost predatory air. One might expect something more kindly in their healers. No matter, her credentials were extraordinary, which was all that mattered. Ginny took a seat as per the woman's invitation and a brief introduction later found herself the sole object of the woman's interest.
"Mrs. Malfoy, it surprises me you should trouble yourself to travel this far. We could have easily accommodated a home visit," the famed Cressida assured, all goodness. If her father-in-law found out about it she could have no peace. Deflecting the offer with an uneasy smile, Ginny allowed the witch to take a look over her notes. "Well, since you've arrived, let us get to it. I understand you have some particular concerns I may be of assistance with."
"Quite so. You will see Healer Detmeer directed me to you. I have recently suffered a miscarriage," Ginny admitted in a small voice. "It was my only pregnancy in five years of marriage." It fair stung to have proven herself such a sore disappointment; it hurt more to have lost her little one.
"I see. I am most sorry for your loss, Mrs. Malfoy." The woman thumbed her way through a few pages. "According to my information, there is no obvious reason which might deter a pregnancy." He made a thoughtful sound. "Ah, yours is a Ministry mandated marriage, isn't it, Mrs. Malfoy?"
Their eyes met. Ginny nodded. "So it is; what of it?" Over the years she had found people exhibited one of two reactions to that bit of information. Either they lamented the cruelty of the Marriage Initiative being carried out on the soil of England, or they assured Ginny they would not fault her for having accepted a travesty of a marriage, particularly those who could not quite grasp how the Ministry had come to such a solution. Careful nevertheless not to allow any particular inflection in her tone, Ginny held the other's stare, daring her to bring forth some complaint.
"Why, nothing at all Mrs. Malfoy. I was merely going to point out the Ministry has been very careful in its selection of candidates and I understand that thorough investigations were carried out." The healer's gaze slipped away. "There is no trace of a curse or any other manner of malediction that we can trace. You are aware, I expect that the old families, despite their sterling pedigree, have been known to encounter fertility issues. There is very little need to worry, considering the length of time we are discussing."
"But I am worried," Ginny found herself answering. "I will be frank; you were recommended to me as someone with a great deal of experience in concocting fertility potions." That stopped the healer short. She brought her hands together in a pensive gesture, but for her own part, Ginny carried on. "What I require is just such from your hands."
"Mrs. Malfoy, if it were that easy to deal with our little fertility issue, do you not think we would be rolling out such potions left, right and centre? Unfortunately, calling any such existing brew a fertility potion is something of a misnomer when it imbues one with such a surge of magic, but does not, in essence, cause the creation of life in and of itself." Cressida Powell stood to her feet. "More often than not children achieved through such means tend to be squibs; did you know that, Mrs. Malfoy?"
She hadn't, as a matter of fact. "But why? That makes no sense."
"It is precisely because of what it does do. Such potions are given to witches suffering some malady of the reproductive system. Their aim is to support internal healing, hence the strong flow of magic. Our most plausible theory so far is that the natural magic along with the additional overwhelms the foetus leading to a wholesale rejection of said magic in the child. So you see, Mrs. Malfoy, any such potion would be useless to you." Something in the woman's expression shifted. It was not exactly a softening, but perhaps some glimmer of pity.
That put her in a bit of a bind. She could not exactly fathom what the head of the Malfoy household would do with a squib on his hands, but she was more than certain he would not exactly be warm and welcoming to the tyke. Still, she might yet benefit from the patronage of Lady Luck. "What if I were to nevertheless insist on the fertility potion?"
"You are free to do so, of course, but there is no certainty the request will be approved. Given the nature of the potion, obtaining as little as a vial takes a great deal of forms, signatures and waiting." The healer leaned back in her seat. "Furthermore, we would, naturally, require your husband's approval as well." Merlin, they were truly making it difficult for her.
Ginny sighed and nodded her head, unwilling to give any insight into the inner workings of her family. She could talk to Draco, but she did not supposed he would agree to such a scheme, particularly when his opinion was they had more than enough time to create a child. And yet she could not let the matter drop.
There had to be something she could do. But what?
She left St. Mungo's disheartened.
Ginny made her way down the bus streets, thoughts not altogether pleasant. She had little choice but to confer with her mother-in-law and see whether she might gain her support. Narcissa Malfoy remained her closest ally and best disposed to understand her. Ginny absently navigated through the throng of people, not entirely certain when the streets had grown so busy. She could have charmed her way through the crowd, but truly, with the way her mind whirled, it was best not attempted. And in any event, the teahouse was already in sight. Hurrying across the way, she narrowly avoided bumping into a towering passer-by.
Entering the cosy little haven tucked fortuitously between what seemed to be two sections of the same bookshop, Ginny looked around for an empty table, very nearly running into yet another person. She drew back just in time to avoid collision, gaze naturally sliding in the direction of her near-victim; his "Pardon me" mingled with her "Excuse me". The impeccable, though non-descript grey suit swam in her vision for a brief moment before her attention snapped to a partially disguise figure she was just beginning to make out. But that could not be!
Her regard did not escape notice. "Why, if it isn't the woman of the hour!" Parvati waved at her happily, then held up what had to be a copy of the Daily Prophet on whose front page an old rumour lived on. Without much heart, Ginny approached her fellow Hogwarts alumnus, paying little mind to the eyes she could feel on her, a polite greeting on her lips. "That's rather cold, Ginny. It must be almost a year since we've seen one another." Seemingly content to pretend she could not see the reason behind Ginny's displeasure, Parvati gave her an innocent smile.
"So it has. How have you been?" She took a seat, as per the other's invitation, doing her best to ignore the big bold letters, insinuating, like clockwork, that famous Auror Potter and society darling Ginevra Malfoy were carrying on a clandestine affair. All in the eyes, Rita Skeeter claimed, having couples her insulting piece with a photograph of herself and Harry sharing their single dance of the evening. She longed to tear the rag apart with her bare hands, but instead ignored the libellous material at her elbow and concentrated on conversation. For a couple of years the two of them had been thrown together at multiple functions and it would not do to sell such an acquaintance short.
"As well as a divorcée like myself might expect," Parvati laughed. She certainly seemed none the worse off for her recent separation. "And yourself? What have you been doing when not engaged in a little bit of flirtation?"
"Parvati, please; you know better than to believe such lies." A dainty nod confirmed she applied the qualifier to the Daily Prophet article.
"What a bad sport you are," tittered her increasingly irritating company. "But there, there; settle your feathers. You're just as bad as that husband of yours, I swear."
Ginny, about to snap a retort in her husband's defence, interrupted herself at the arrival of a neatly arrayed employee asking after their order. Her temper, goaded though it might have been, held itself long enough in check that she could order a cup of tea without hexing Parvati into the next century. The waitress left soon enough.
"Surely you wouldn't appreciate scurrilous nonsense being bandied about you in the tabloids," she pointed out evenly, having regained some composure in the interim.
Parvati snorted. "There was always going to be plenty of scrutiny and talk given your choice of spouse."
"I only mind the untruths." Of course she had married Draco knowing full well her lifelong commitment came with a great deal of drawbacks, but she had to admit Rita Skeeter's obsession with finding a scandal where none brewed had not even made her list, let alone its continuation over the years. "Yes, the union came about as a consequence of the Marriage Initiative, but that makes it no less loving or committed than any other. You know better than anyone else we were never forced into it." Ginny sent Parvati a pleading look. "Nor are we under any obligation to stay if we don't want to."
"One can't argue facts," the other admitted easily enough. "But Ginny, do consider how it looks from the outside. Your tendre for Potter was never a great secret, nor was his regard for you. To add fuel to the fire, before anyone knew what they were about, you'd joined the Initiative and were paired with Malfoy of all people."
Their order arrived, thus both fell silent until the waitress had settled the comfortably and was dismissed with a smile. Ginny poured some milk in her cup and stirred gently, picking up snatches of conversations as she her attention to the task. She supposed some might have been surprised at her choice, but one would never dream they might continue to harbour such thoughts having observed her and Draco together.
"Harry and I found we were not best suited, for Merlin's sake. Am I to be beholden to a childish crush for the rest of my days? Things change. People grow up." The exasperated answer only brought forth a shrug from Parvati. Ginny took a sip of her tea, willing the words on the tip of her tongue to vanish. "This is outside enough all the same."
"You can always hex that second-rate journalist the next you see her. But enough about that; I'd rather hear about your involvement with the Holyhead Harpies. Is it true that Jones is considering retirement?" A spark of something in the other's expression caught Ginny's attention and then the Holyhead Harpies was a harmless enough subject.
"According to her at least. You can imagine everyone is doing all they can to convince her otherwise; she is a valuable member of the team." Once upon a time, Ginny had dreamt of flying alongside the very woman.
"I know that face. Don't tell me you disagree with the general consensus."
It would be entirely impolitic to give her honest view and Parvati would surely recognise dissimulation. She was not the least bit worried it might get back to Gwenog Jones and she'd find herself repeating the nasty habit of all those unfortunate enough to disagree with the woman. Aside from which she had no fondness for woodlice. Ginny hoped Luna would arrive soon and provide rescue.
