A Marriage of Convenience

Disclaimer: All that you recognise belongs to JKR.

Warning: A few sexual references.

A/N: Thank you for all the encouraging reviews! I tried to reply to most of them, but if I missed you, I am very sorry. Just know that I appreciated your words all the same.

I have to apologise for the wait. Some of you know that I have moved house, so I was busy with trying to get things settled, but, as it turned out, I also had no internet at all for quite some time. I’ve had this chapter finished for a while, but with no internet, it was impossible to upload it. So I do apologise for that, and hopefully no more problems will crop up in the future.

Ups and Downs

The next few days saw Ginny with a decidedly happier smile on her face. For once she had been able to sleep right through the night; the unwanted guests had finally left (though Ginny had somehow been persuaded into accepting invitations to parties from nearly all the women she had fondly labelled ‘haughty harpies,’ including Daphne, Pansy and, oddly enough, Celestia.) and even Alexia had not managed to spoil her good mood. Perhaps she owed that more to Daphne, as that pretty damsel had kindly disclosed to Alexia in the most sympathetic (and gleefully wicked) way that the wedding could not possibly be called off, and that Draco himself had admitted that he was in love with Ginny. Alexia had been so furiously jealous by this information that she had not managed to say a single word to Ginny. Indeed, her face was so red with vicious anger that it seemed more likely she would explode.

Triumphant in her victory over the snobbish Alexia, Ginny had graciously allowed herself to be persuaded into staying at Malfoy Manor without complaint. Her parents also were invited to stay until the wedding, though it was decided most wisely that Lucius would not know of the new guests until the wedding day. This, however, did not bother Ginny one bit (she not having any desire to face Lucius Malfoy) and so the only hiccup to her good mood was the depressing promise of a visit to her godmother that afternoon. A luncheon with Celia could only end in disaster, but Ginny could find no more excuse in putting it off. After all, Ginny did owe a lot to her godmother, and it was only natural that she should thank Celia for her hospitality, however reluctant she might actually be to do so.

Armande seemed to sense a drop in his companion’s mood, and so made it his mission to get her smiling again. He succeeded quite well in helping her to forget the ominous luncheon, for it was hard not to be entertained by his very energetic recitals of past visits to Malfoy Manor. One in particular had her almost crying with mirth, in which a nine-year-old Draco and a seven-year-old Armande stole a broom and took it for a flight around the Manor. Unfortunately for them, Draco had not quite mastered the art of turning, and so both boys dramatically crashed into the west-wing turret and only just managed to stop themselves from being hurtled over the tower by their cloaks getting caught in the tiles. Armande disclosed with a laugh that the two of them had been stuck up there for more than two hours before one of the house-elves finally spotted them, and the only welcome the two very distraught boys received once they got to the ground was a clout around the ears from Narcissa and a stern lecture that left both boys feeling very subdued.

“Though,” Armande confessed with a rueful smile, “Aunt Cissy’s reprimands are nowhere near as bad as Uncle Lucius’. That cane of his became the bane of our existence, and it never helped that Alexia would always tell on us because we never used to let her join in. She was so stupid though, and she’d always cry.”

Ginny could only giggle, but any further reminisces were cut short by Narcissa telling Armande to stop boring Ginevra with stories of his childish antics and to go stop his sister from sulking herself into a decline. Merlin knew she should have realised by now that marrying Draco had always been out of the question. This melodrama was quite unbecoming of a girl her age.

Armande wisely acquiesced to his aunt’s wishes, and so it was that Ginny was once again left to her own devices. The stories, however, had done the trick. Once more she was in high spirits and feeling very much at peace with the world. Even Draco had done nothing to upset her, though how long that would last was an entirely different matter. So far he had been quite civil towards her, even going so far as to procure her a bunch of wild flowers. Of course, Ginny later found out that the flowers had actually been gathered for his horse to eat, and he had only given them to her as an afterthought, since he supposed it would help consolidate his supposed love for her. Ginny was a little put-off by this knowledge, but the flowers were quite pretty, and she supposed it was still something coming from him.

The discovery that he had a horse was much more satisfactory. She herself had never owned or ridden a horse (as they were quite expensive to maintain and were hard to come by in the wizarding world, thanks to the invention of brooms, portkeys, and disapparation), but it seemed that the Malfoys kept quite a few well-bred stallions and mares in their stables. Ginny soon learnt that most Purebloods in high society kept horses, as riding a horse was seen as more dignified than riding a broom. Ginny didn’t really care about such stuffy rubbish as that, but she was very excited to try her hand at horse riding, and all but demanded that Draco allow her to ride his horse. Draco refused to let her ride his own horse, but he did agree to take her horse riding. Armande, overhearing this exchange, then demanded to be allowed to come too, and so all three of them headed to the stables. Alexia seemed determined to stay in her room and sulk- unbecoming behaviour or not -though Draco, Ginny and Armande did not seem to be too troubled by this.

Ginny was eager to see what Draco’s horse was like, but once she saw her fiancé’s spirited, grey stallion, she was quite thankful that he had put his foot down in not letting her ride it. The horse was very large, and to be frank, quite scary. It stared at her suspiciously through dark eyes, seeming to have taken an immediate dislike to her, and tossed its head challengingly. Ginny warily watched the grey horse stamp its large hooves, as if daring her to come any closer, and wisely backed away.

Armande let out a small chuckle. “A wise choice. Draco’s horse is as prickly as he is himself to strangers; though, when I think about it,” he mused out loud, casting a sly grin at his cousin, “your horse doesn’t like anyone except you. You know, it’s uncanny how similar the two of you are.”

Draco only smirked and fondly patted his horse’s nose. “Just shows he has good taste, right Ulysses?”

“Ulysses?” Ginny questioned, looking at both men curiously.

Armande sniggered slightly. “Draco named his horse ‘Ulysses’ after the Greek adventurer. You know? The one who thought of the Trojan horse? He was supposed to be very cunning, or so they say.”

Ginny vaguely recalled something about crafty Greeks and Trojan horses in her basic history classes as a child, but she had never been particularly enthusiastic about those lessons. She was more interested in learning about spells and potions, though she had not been allowed to use a wand. Wizards, however, seemed to think that it was important for all magical children to learn about general world history. They were especially interested in that of the old Romans and Greeks, for more often than not, magic folk had somehow played a part in shaping those great events of the past. The gods, after all, were actually powerful wizards and witches who had used their powers to control and manipulate the much weaker muggles. This was soon stopped under the Muggle Protection Act, but their acts still lived on in legends and myths in both the muggle and wizarding world.

“Oh,” Ginny managed to say with a rather vacant smile and a nod. It was the age-old tactic of smiling and nodding when one didn’t quite understand what was being said. Ginny happened to excel at this art, having spent years listening to Hermione blather on about Merlin knew what. The fact that she could not remember exactly what her bookish friend had talked about clearly illustrated how much she had paid attention to those conversations…

“Of course,” Armande continued cheekily, bringing Ginny’s thoughts back to the present, “Ulysses was also very arrogant.” A rather playful grin settled on his face as he turned to his cousin. “Another trait you share with your horse, perhaps?”

Draco only rolled his eyes and continued fixing the saddle on his horse, which, uncannily enough, was looking very haughty and important in that moment. Ulysses was certainly living up to his namesake, Ginny thought with a smile.

“So what’s your horse called, then?” she asked curiously, now turning her attention to the chestnut horse Armande was saddling. This one was much less impressive in appearance than Ulysses, not being as big, but it was still a beautiful horse all the same. Its eyes were softer, and there was a single, white strip running down the centre of its nose.

“His horse is called ‘Châtaigne,’” Draco replied in some amusement. Clearly he thought Armande’s choice of name was just as diverting as Armande had found his.

Ginny’s brow creased in confusion. “Is that French? What does it mean?”

Draco leaned casually against the wall of the stable and folded his arms, a smirk on his face and his eyes flashing with friendly mockery at his cousin. “Typical of Armande, it is both unimaginative and clichéd.”

“Well?” Ginny prompted, still having no idea what the name meant, and feeling sadly left out of the joke.

“It means chestnut. Not very original, as you can see,” Draco replied, gesturing to the chestnut horse. 

Ginny laughed appreciatively and cast an amused glance at Armande. “How very fitting.”

Armande just shrugged and gave his boyish grin. “So what? Châtaigne likes his name. He doesn’t need some dead person to give him consequence.” 

Laughing again, Ginny looked to Draco to see how he would react to that, but he was just smiling at his cousin in what could only be described as cousinly affection. It was quite a shock for Ginny to see such a soft emotion on her fiancé’s normally haughty face, and for a moment she could only stare at him wide-eyed. His steel-like eyes, which were usually so hard, somehow seemed less piercing and cold, and this in turn lessened the harshness of his features, giving him a much more approachable appearance. The smile playing on his mouth was neither mocking nor reserved, and Ginny could only describe it as pleasant.

“I think Châtaigne should count himself lucky you were not in a creative mood that day,” Draco teased. Ginny was sad to see the pleasant smile fade away into a smirk. “He’d probably end up being called ‘Cheval’.”

Armande let out a shout of laughter, but once again Ginny was left feeling confused.

“What does that mean?” she asked, bewildered by all these French words.

Draco glanced at her, a smile lingering in his eyes. “It means horse.”

Ginny frowned to herself. How could that be any more creative? If anything, calling a horse ‘horse’ was even less creative. She just didn’t get it, but judging by the way Armande was laughing, and by the way Draco was trying not to, they obviously found it very funny.

“I don’t get it,” she complained, feeling more than unusually stupid, considering both men seemed to find the joke amusing.

“My cousin seems to think that the more obvious something is, the more creative he is being,” Draco explained mockingly, his smirk widening. “Hence, to him, calling his horse ‘horse’ would be more creative than, let’s say, calling his horse after a well-known wizard or witch.”

Armande clambered up onto his horse and grinned broadly at his cousin. “And what’s wrong with that? We’re not all boring and bookish like you. Some of us actually don’t care about fusty people from the past. We’d much prefer to name our animals after things that matter; like their colour, or their breed.”

Draco just shook his head. “Whatever you say, Armande.” He glanced at Ginny, and completely ignoring his cousin’s cheeky grin, gestured for her to come closer to him. “This is the horse you’ll be riding.”

Ginny had to restrain herself from letting out a girlish squeak of ecstasy when she saw the horse he was leading out. The white mare was possibly one of the most beautiful horses she had seen in her life, and was so pure and white that it reminded her of crisp, white snow.

She reached out her hand and stroked the soft, white mane, giving a childish smile to Draco as she did so. “What’s her name?”

“Her name is Winter. She’s my mother’s horse.”

“I can’t ride your mother’s horse!” Ginny exclaimed in horror, pulling her hand away. She wouldn’t dream of touching Narcissa’s horse, even if it was beautiful.

Draco shrugged away her protestations with a careless wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about it. She never rides Winter now anyway.” He frowned suddenly. “Have you ridden a horse before?”

Ginny shook her head. Draco then spent the next few minutes going over what she should expect from the horse and what she should and should not do while riding. Ginny tried to remember as much as possible, but was relieved when Draco laughed suddenly (probably at her anxious expression) and said that if she had any problems, she just had to call out to him.

“I won’t let you break your neck, Weasley,” he said with a teasing grin.

Ginny wasn’t sure if she was comforted by that promise or not, especially when he was smiling in such a way, but she said nothing in reply and simply watched agitatedly as he saddled up the horse.

“Ready?” he asked, looking at her through those steady, grey eyes, once he had finished getting Winter ready for her to ride.

Ginny nodded and allowed him to help her up onto the white mare. She tried to get as comfortable and secure as she could in the saddle, not liking the thought that she might fall off while riding. She was feeling suddenly very nervous now that she was actually on the horse. It was a lot higher up here than she had thought, and while she had been higher on a broom, it was very different when one knew one’s stead would not always listen to one’s commands. Horses, after all, have brains of their own, unlike brooms, which are charmed to follow the slightest touch.

On voicing these fears, Draco had only smirked at her and told her to stop being so chicken-hearted. Ginny lifted her chin haughtily and told him in no uncertain terms that Gryffindors were never chicken-hearted.

This seemed to amuse Draco greatly, causing him to say quite mockingly, though not meanly, “Prove it.”

Ginny held her reins tightly, a determined glint coming into her chestnut-brown eyes. “I will.”

“Come on you two!” Armande called out suddenly, clearly getting impatient. “I don’t want to be sitting in a stable all day.”

Draco nodded and moved over to his own horse. Ginny watched in some jealously as he gracefully swung himself up into the saddle and reined in his spirited horse with a simple pull at the reins. She promised herself then and there that she would get better at horse riding so that she could give him a run for his money. She just hated knowing that he was better than her at something. He could already dance better than her, and fly, she had to admit grudgingly. Ginny huffed to herself. There was no stomaching it. She would just have to practise more.

The three of them moved out of the stables, (Draco pulling on Ginny’s reins to help her manoeuvre Winter) and then stopped on the grass. Armande wanted to have a race, but Draco shook his head and said that Ginny had to take things slow. Ginny secretly was grateful, for her pride would have made her accept the challenge if Draco had not intervened. Of course, she realised the only conclusion of such a race would be her with a broken neck, but it was very hard for her to back down from a challenge. Gryffindors, after all, were often headstrong and stubborn to a fault, and that meant they had difficulty realising when to back down from tasks beyond their capabilities.

Slightly disappointed, and not content to travel at the staid pace that Ginny would favour, Armande said that he would go on ahead. Draco nodded, and both he and Ginny watched as Armande gave them a cheery wave before shooting off into the hills. Ginny couldn’t believe how fast he was going, and could only watch in awe and slight apprehension. Surely no one would expect her to go that fast?

Draco waited patiently for Ginny, knowing that it was his duty to make sure she was all right. His mother would probably kill him if he didn’t- that is if Mr and Mrs Weasley didn’t get there first. Ginny herself could only stare in some trepidation at the rugged hills that looked like so many moth-eaten green blankets. For all her excitement and talk, she suddenly found that her Gryffindor bravery had quite deserted her. Winter seemed quite content with standing where she was, and in a way, Ginny was as well. Perhaps it would be better if she just went back to the house? At least she’d be safe there.

Draco suddenly lifted an eyebrow at her, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up already? You were the one who wanted to ride a horse, remember?”

Ginny blushed faintly but lifted her chin up all the same. “I’m not giving up. I was just admiring the view.”

Draco’s eyebrow rose just a bit higher, but he said nothing in reply. Merely, he bowed his head gracefully and held out his hand for her to take the lead. Ginny’s eyes followed his hand to stare back at the hills. She swallowed hard against her nerves and wondered if she could really do this. She could just go back to the manor of course, but then Draco would call her chicken-hearted, and she could not bear that. There was nothing for it; she would just have to suck up her fear and do this.

Taking a deep breath, Ginny twitched the reins to get Winter to move, but the horse remained stubbornly still. Indeed, Winter seemed more impressed with the grass at her feet than moving at Ginny’s feeble commands, and even her rider’s grumpy “hyah” could not get her to move an inch.

Draco started chuckling to himself and Ginny could feel her cheeks burning in embarrassment. She was very ready to believe that her face would be rivalling the red of a sunset right now, and with her flaming red hair, she was quite sure that she would look like her whole head was on fire. It was what one most hated about having vibrantly red hair.

“You’ll have to be more forceful than that,” Draco remarked lazily, smirk firmly in place.

Ginny glowered at him before turning her attention back to her stubborn stead. “Move!” She whispered fiercely, giving Winter a light kick to her flanks. Winter tossed her head irritably and started going backwards towards the stable. Ginny could have cried in frustration, not only because she could hear Draco’s amused laughter ringing in her ears, but also because she had no idea how to make the horse stop.

Draco moved his own horse up next to hers and gave her a rather lazy smile. “Need some help?”

She scowled unpleasantly at him, still trying to steady her mare. “Why did you give me this horse? All she wants to do is eat and go backwards.”

He laughed softly and reached out to grab Ginny’s reins. Winter, recognising the hand of a master, settled down and stood still. Ginny bit down any jealous remarks she might have said. She had to be grateful that Draco had taken pity on her and helped her before things got any more out of hand. This was not the time to be as stubborn as her stead.

“It’s because you’re too unconfident,” Draco explained calmly, still holding onto her reins. “She can feel your unease and so will not listen.”

“Of course I’m unconfident!” Ginny retorted somewhat peevishly. “I’ve never ridden a horse before, have I?”

“There’s no need to get worked up over it,” he replied with a smirk. “Just relax.”

Ginny glared at him. It was very hard to relax when one was being smirked at. She just knew that he was taking immense pleasure in her failure as a horsewoman right now. If only she could wipe that smirk of his face…

“There’s no need to glare either,” Draco said in a slightly amused voice.

“Just tell me how to get this horse to move,” Ginny grumbled unhappily, quite sick of his mockery. She had never expected to be this bad at riding horses, and felt quite irritated at both herself and her annoying fiancé who delighted in taunting her with his insolent smirks.

Draco’s eyes lit up with mischief and Ginny suddenly had a horrible feeling of foreboding rise up inside her. She watched in apprehension as he let go of the reins and raised his hand in the air.

“Don’t you dare, Draco Malfoy!” Ginny threatened in a low, anxious voice, realising what he was going to do.

He just smirked that infernal smirk and slapped his hand down on Winter’s bottom. Immediately the horse let out a loud neigh and set off into the hills at a speed that made Ginny’s stomach drop several feet. Her hands tightly clenched at the reins, her red hair streamed out behind her, and all the while she screamed bloody murder for her fiancé. Her day had surely just taken a severe turn for the worst.

“Don’t let go!” Draco shouted tauntingly, and then started laughing wickedly to himself at the ridiculous picture she made.

Ginny was too frightened out of her wits to make any retort back and could only grasp her reins tightly while the hills blurred past her in splotches of green. She was beginning to feel her body sliding in the saddle, and with her stomach clenching sickeningly, turned her head back towards her laughing fiancé. “MAKE IT STOOOOOOOOOOOP!!!!”

Draco saw her leg slip out of the stirrup and immediately stopped laughing. “Damn!” he muttered to himself, and quickly raced after her on Ulysses. He could see Ginny desperately trying to stay on the saddle, and felt his own heart jolt painfully in his chest at the thought that she might fall off. Not only would it be his fault, but he also knew that she could very easily be killed by breaking her neck, or by Winter trampling over her. He couldn’t let that happen.

“Hold on!” He shouted more earnestly this time, and spurred Ulysses to move faster so that he could catch up to the runaway mare.

“I’m trying!” Ginny shrieked back, and then let out a frightened scream as Winter suddenly turned sharply and almost threw her off the saddle.

Draco swore under his breath and urged Ulysses to go even faster. He started closing in on Ginny and Winter, and reached out his hand to grab at Winter’s reins, but the horse only tossed its head and tried to change direction again. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Ginny slipping right out of the saddle, and quickly grabbed at her waist instead to steady her.

“Let go of the reins!” he commanded, letting go of his own reigns to grasp her waist with both of his hands. It was an awkward position, and he knew that he would not be able to hold her for long.

“Are you kidding?” Ginny yelled back. “I’ll fall!”

“Trust me! You won’t fall!”

Ginny met his grey eyes for a second, hesitated, and then scrunched up her face and let go of the reins. Immediately she had the sudden impression that she was weightless, but then she was pulled onto Ulysses’ saddle, and could only feel relief that she was securely wrapped in Draco’s arms so that she would not fall. It was an odd position to be in, for it was almost as if she was hugging Draco, with her face pressed up against his chest and her own arms wrapped tight around him. In that moment Ginny had no desire to let him go, even if he was Draco Malfoy and had caused this mess. He was solid and secure, and she was feeling considerably shaken. His body provided a much needed physical comfort.

Draco relaxed his hold on her and instead went to task in reining his own horse in. Ulysses slowed down and eventually came to a stop. Winter was long gone into the distance, and with a sigh, Draco could only hope that the horse would come back. He felt more than a little stupid right now, but he had not expected Ginny to get so frightened, nor for that matter had he expected Winter to get so wild. She was normally such a placid horse, but it seemed that his mother’s lack of riding her had made the horse grow a bit unruly.

He glanced down at Ginny, who was still holding him tightly. “Are you alright?”

                       

Ginny shook her head and let out a shaky breath. Draco privately wondered if she was going to let go of him any time soon. Her death grip was beginning to get quite painful.

She sniffed heartily, a telltale sign that she had been crying, and then much to his relief, Ginny finally released her hold on him and lifted her tear sprinkled face up to his. Suddenly she glared at him, as if remembering why she was in this situation, and making a rather odd noise like an angry kitten, gave his chest a hard slap.

“You could have killed me!” She accused hoarsely, now glowering darkly at him, with her chest heaving in indignation and fury.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, not even bothering to defend himself from her attack. “I should not have done it.”

“No you shouldn’t have!” Ginny retorted fierily, feeling justifiably annoyed with him. “You knew that I was scared of the horse! You knew that I didn’t know how to ride one, and you- you stupid, unfeeling idiot- decided to have a laugh and make the horse go running off and nearly kill me!”

“I already told you I’m sorry!” He snapped in some frustration, now losing his temper himself. “How was I supposed to know that you would freak out that much, or that Winter would try throw you off? Merlin, you act like I actually wanted to get you killed!”

Ginny scowled darkly up at him. “I wouldn’t put it past you. Maybe you were just hoping to make a clean escape from this marriage by killing me with your horse.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Draco retorted exasperatedly, running an agitated hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t have saved you if I wanted you dead.”

“I wouldn’t have needed saving if you-” she poked him hard in the chest- “hadn’t acted like an idiot!”

“It was a joke!” 

“Well that joke almost got me killed!”

“I already said I’m sorry, what more do you want?”

Ginny rolled her eyes and looked away, but Draco firmly grasped her chin with his fingers and forced her to look back at him. Ginny’s eyes narrowed fiercely. “Don’t touch me!” she spat coldly, furiously swiping his hand away from her face. He released her completely then, but as they were still on the horse, and very much close together due to sharing the saddle, this did not give much room for either of them.

“Fine! Be an immature brat! See what I care!” His eyes filled with intense frustration as he glared at her. “I’ve made my apology, and if you can’t accept it, then that’s your problem; Merlin knows I should have realised you’d be just as spiteful and ungrateful as you always are.”

Ginny’s bosom swelled with indignation. “Spiteful and ungrateful? You’ve got to be joking! I’ve sacrificed my whole future for your mother’s stupid whim, and I’ve sucked up my pride and resentment for you so that we could at least try to be happy in this horrible marriage! I thought maybe we could at least learn to tolerate each other, but you’ve proven yourself to be just as heartless and selfish as I thought you were! You delight in making me upset, and you only apologise now because I almost got hurt! You know just as much as I do that had I not nearly fallen off the horse, you would still be laughing in your sadistic humour at my expense!”

Draco’s grey eyes grew dark in his rage until they resembled fierce storm clouds. Right now he felt very much like wringing her stubborn little neck, and felt his hands twitch at the thought. He did feel guilty for what he had done, but her attitude and rudeness was not softening his mood.

“That’s not true,” he replied in a low, angry voice.

She snorted derisively. “Of course you would say that. You would never admit how horrible you actually are.”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “I would not say another word if I were you, Ginevra. You’re treading a fine line.”

Ginny lifted her chin boldly. “What are you going to do? Hit me?” Her eyes gleamed mockingly, almost challengingly. “I thought you said you had more respect than that?”

Draco suddenly grabbed her roughly by her shoulders and glared angrily down at her, practically shaking her in his rage. Ginny felt a little alarmed and struggled against his grip, but he was much stronger and held her firmly in place.

“Respect?” he repeated, his eyes flaring with frustration and hurt. “You don’t even deserve my respect! You’ve insulted me more than enough, and by Merlin I will not sit here and listen to you rip my character to shreds all because of a silly joke that I have admitted I should not have done.” His grip tightened, and Ginny was sure that a bruise would quickly form, but it was the absolute disgust and cold fury in his hard, grey eyes that made her wince. “Grow up, Ginevra, or you will quickly lose what little respect I do have for you, and then you will be sorry!”

He released her suddenly, allowing Ginny to tentatively touch her throbbing shoulders to see how much damage his fingers had done. Her eyes were stinging painfully and something warm trickled down her cheek. She wiped the tear away quickly and tried hard not to allow any more to fall. His words had hurt her more than his bruising fingers, for she truly did hate him to be angry with her. She cursed herself for letting her temper get the better of her, and cursed him for making her lose her temper in the first place. She had just been so frightened and upset, and he had been the one who had caused her to be so shaken. It was only natural to take her temper out on him, but as usual, she always had to take that one step too far, and now he probably hated her.

Ginny sniffed to herself, trying desperately not to cry. She was too stubborn to admit to him that she had been acting foolish, and though she hated Draco to be angry with her and felt frustrated that this had to happen after things were going so well between them, she just could not bring herself to apologise. She just wanted to get away from him. She couldn’t bear being close to him right now.

“Let me off this horse,” she said quietly, still not looking at him.

“Don’t be stupid,” Draco said coldly. “It’s too far to walk, and it looks like it will rain.”

Indeed, they had come a long distance from the manor, and the grey clouds had quickly faded into black, leaving the heavy feeling of rain lingering in the air.

Ginny’s lips trembled, and tears splashed down on her cheeks. “I don’t care! I won’t stay with you on this horse any longer! I’d rather walk back to the Manor than stay here with you!”

Pushing him back roughly, Ginny slid her legs over the saddle and then leapt down onto the ground, getting ground-shock in the process. Draco tried to stop her by grasping at her arm, but Ginny shook him off and started stomping ahead. Something wet fell on her cheek that was not a tear, and instinctively Ginny looked up to see raindrops falling down from the bruised, grey sky. She scowled darkly, thinking it was just her luck to have this happen. Thankfully, the rain did not seem to be coming down too hard, and Ginny hoped that she could get back before the real storm set in, but luck was not on her side it seemed. Big, fat rain droplets started splattering down on her and only got worse by the second. Ginny made a face, already feeling her white dress getting soaked.

The sound of horse hooves came up behind her, and Ginny looked behind her to see Draco coming up on Ulysses. She scowled even more and increased her speed.

“Go away, Malfoy! I’m not going back with you!”

“Who says you have a choice?” he admonished coolly, now coming up next to her. “If you think I am going to let you get soaked in all this rain and get sick, you’re highly mistaken.”

“I can do what I want! You don’t own me yet!”

He just rolled his eyes. “Stop being such a drama queen and get on the horse.”

Ginny stamped her foot, looking every part the drama queen that he had just called her. “I won’t!”

Sighing in exasperation, Draco simply reached down and hauled her up onto the horse. Ginny squirmed frantically to get free of his hold, but he held her tight against him. Without preamble, he urged his horse into a gallop, so that Ginny had no choice but to accept defeat. Her position was very awkward and the movement of the horse only made it worse, for their bodies were forced to move with each other in a way that would have made any inexperienced girl blush. Even amongst all her anger, Ginny was still sensible of the embarrassing situation that she was in, and wished that Draco would loosen his hold on her waist so that she didn’t have to be so close to him.

“Do you have to hold me so tight?” she muttered, shifting uncomfortably in the saddle, with her cheeks burning.

“You might try jump off again, and then you probably will break your neck,” Draco replied brusquely, not loosening his hold. Both his arms were looped around her waist so that he could actually get to the reins, but one hand was firmly holding her against him, while the other held the reins to his horse.

“I’m not going to jump off. I just—” She bit her tongue and fell silent. She was not going to explain her discomfort to him. Who knew what sick ideas he might get.

Draco said nothing, and nor did he release his hold on her. The rain was still pounding down on them both, and she shivered slightly against the cold. If they didn’t end up as drowned rats, she was sure that she would freeze. The rain was icy cold on her bare skin, and unlike Draco, she was not wearing a nice coat to cover herself. The problem with women’s fashion was that no matter how cold the weather, one always had to wear a flimsy dress. Ginny was feeling particularly resentful towards that fact right now.

                       

The manor finally came into site, and Ginny had to restrain herself from cheering for joy. Draco reined in Ulysses, bringing them to a slow walk, and guided his horse into the stable. He slid off from the horse and then silently reached up to help Ginny down as well. She accepted his help reluctantly, placing her hands on his shoulders while he grasped her waist and helped her to the ground. Their eyes met- she still with her hands on his shoulders, and he still with his hands on her waist- and for a moment (but what was only a second) she could only stare at him.

His hair was very tousled and damp from the rain and wind, and his eyes seemed greyer than ever; standing out from his pale features in a way that they had never done before. She didn’t know why his eyes seemed so different, but in that moment they drew her to him so powerfully that she could only gaze into those deep, dark, grey depths that no longer seemed to resemble the cold metal she had used to liken them to. They had become storms; storms that were so intense and powerful that they quite took her breath away.

An unfamiliar feeling rose inside of her that was neither anger nor guilt, and Ginny realised with some horror that the strange feeling was attraction. Surely it could not be right, and yet there was no other explanation. She was attracted to Draco Malfoy.

“Oh Merlin,” Ginny muttered without thinking, pulling her hands away from him.         

Draco released her waist and stared at her in some perplexity. “What?”

The fierce emotion that had been glittering in his eyes had faded now into bewilderment, but the damage had been done. Ginny could still see the lingering spark in his steely eyes that had caught her attention, and that, in turn, transformed his whole face into something so much more appealing. She sternly told her mind to stop being so ridiculous, for ridiculous it could only be. She had been around Draco plenty of times and had never found him particularly handsome before. Why then should it be any different now, especially after he had behaved so abominably towards her? She was supposed to be angry with him, not admiring him! It was strange and very disconcerting. She liked it much better when she didn’t find him attractive. Hopefully her brain would soon snap out of its strange whim and would start seeing the faults in his face again. Merlin knew she didn’t want to have her own brain turn against her.

“Nothing,” she snapped, feeling her anger only increasing in finding him attractive. “Just leave me alone!”

Draco rolled his eyes and started walking out of the stable. “Fine. I wouldn’t want to waste my time with you anyway.”

Ginny glared at his retreating back. “Good, because I wouldn’t want to waste my time with you!”

He said nothing in reply and simply left the stable, leaving Ginny silently fuming and feeling more than a little silly. Still, she had managed to get the last say, so that was one comfort, however feeble.

Letting out an irritable huff, Ginny left the stable and stomped all the way to her room. She entered the bathroom and turned on the bath, watching the steamy water rise, and then stripped off her wet clothes in shivering silence. Once it was full, she slipped into the bath and let out a deep sigh of content. Her brain soon fell back onto her predicament, and tiredly she ran her fingers through her long, red hair, with a frown lingering on her lips.

“Stupid Draco,” she muttered grumpily to herself. “If only he was ugly. I wouldn’t have to feel this way if he was ugly.”

It was terribly inconsiderate of him to go and get handsome in mere seconds and upset her peace of mind, especially after what he had done and said to her today. After all, how could she stay stubbornly angry with him when he was looking so attractive? Really, it was enough to make her quite hate him.

Suddenly she remembered that she was supposed to be meeting Celia for lunch in just a few hours.

“Oh, could this day get any worse?” she moaned to herself.

Apparently it could.

OOOO

Ginny walked up to her godmother’s house in deep silence. She was still brooding over everything that had happened that day, but she was glad that she had not run into Draco again. He had left shortly after their horse ride with Armande, though where they had gone, she did not know.

“Ginny, dear, do stop dawdling.”

Ginny looked up to see her mother and Narcissa watching her. “Sorry,” she muttered, and quickly walked to catch up with them. She wasn’t feeling particularly happy right now, for she was worried how Celia would react to her, and she had the double burden of knowing that eventually she would have to apologise to Draco for her behaviour, as well as dealing with the fact that she now found him attractive. Everything was just falling apart lately.

Mrs Weasley knocked at the door, and almost immediately Mitsy the house elf opened it and was ushering them inside. Ginny barely paid attention to her surroundings as she was led to the parlour, but as soon as she had walked inside the room, a large amount of black lace suddenly blocked her view, and she found herself being squeezed in a tight hug.

“Oh my dear girl, I’m so sorry!” Celia exclaimed tearfully, taking great heaving sobs.

Any fears Ginny might have had for her godmother instantly vanished, and with a small smile on her lips, she wrapped her arms around her godmother’s voluminous frame.

“I’m sorry too, Celia. I should have listened to you.”

Celia pulled herself away and stared at Ginny with tear-filled eyes. “I tried to warn you not to have anything to do with my son, but I know it was my fault for not telling you the truth. Oh, can you forgive me?”

Ginny nodded. “It doesn’t matter now anyway,” she said with a repressed sigh. “I’m getting married to Draco.”

“So I’ve heard,” Celia remarked with a tinkling laugh, completely oblivious to Ginny’s unhappiness. “I’m very happy for you, my dear, and I hope you will be happy too. I always hoped you would go with him.”

Ginny gave a half-hearted smile, but Celia had just then spotted Mrs Weasley. She let out another wail (though this one more joyous) and threw herself forward.

“Molly!”

“Celia!”

The women hugged and started chatting excitedly to each other about weddings, children and Merlin knew what else (Ginny had lost interest in trying to listen). She looked up at Narcissa, who was standing next to her, and wondered why she too was not joining in the jubilee. “Are you not going to join in?” she asked in some surprise.

Narcissa shook her head with a little smile. “I’m not really one for excited reunions.”

Ginny didn’t doubt it, but she did find it funny that the youngest of the three friends was also the most mature in her behaviour. Of course, all the Malfoys seemed to not know how to let loose.

The two women finally realised there were other people in the room, and soon Ginny was once more regretting coming to her godmother’s home, as the discussion abruptly turned to her wedding. Dresses, cakes, guests, music- there was so much to discuss that Ginny started to feel more than a little over-whelmed and upset by it all. It had seemed so far away before, but now the only thought running through her brain was that this was really going to happen. She was really going to get married to Draco Malfoy, and she realised with a sickening lurch of her stomach that the wedding was in two days.

“Ginny, you’re being awfully quiet,” Mrs Weasley said with a frown, causing Celia and Narcissa to look at her.

“I just have a bit of a headache,” Ginny lied, though with the way things were going, she didn’t doubt that would soon become the truth.

 “Poor thing,” Celia cooed, giving her a sympathetic pat to her shoulder. “It’s probably just pre-wedding nerves. We’ve all had it, sweetie; why, I remember before my wedding I was absolutely terrified. Of course, most of my nerves were directed towards what was going to happen after the wedding.”

Mrs Weasley giggled and Ginny could only blush. Narcissa didn’t seem too impressed with this style of conversation and gave a reproving look at Celia. “I don’t think Ginevra wants to hear about your honeymoon, Celia. We all know what happens after the wedding and let’s just leave it at that.”

Ginny was grateful for Narcissa’s interruption, as the last thing she wanted to hear was her mother confessing some of her own honeymoon adventures. Her relief didn’t last very long, however, as the conversation soon swung back to how many tables should be set out for the guests. Ginny could only inwardly sigh. She just wished it would all go away, and promptly tried to ignore the conversation going on around her as much as possible…

OOOO

Meanwhile, in a little pub in Knockturn Alley (which was still a favourite haunt for young purebloods), Draco Malfoy tossed down another glass of firewhiskey and stared blearily at the ugly table in front of him.

“I’m such an idiot,” he moaned to himself.

Armande, who was seated opposite him, gave him a cheeky smile. “Anyone could have told you that.”

Draco glared at him. “If you’re going to be annoying, you can leave. I’m not in the mood.”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” Armande said with a laugh and threw his hands up in surrender. “Sheesh, you don’t need to get so touchy.”

“How would you feel if you realised you were going to marry a shrew in two days?” Draco demanded in some frustration. “A shrew you just happen to have to try and get pregnant before the end of the month, and, to top it all off, this shrew would probably rather rip you to shreds before she even allowed you to lay a finger on her.”

Armande’s eyes danced mischievously. “I thought you liked your shrew.”

Draco rolled his eyes and took a bitter sip of his drink. “I don’t. She’s completely mental, and I have no idea how I’m ever going to get her pregnant.” He glared at the dark liquid in his glass. “It’s bad enough having no idea what I’m supposed to do without adding Ginevra Weasley to the equation.”

“How can you not know what to do?” Armande said with a frown. “Any idiot knows what to do.”

“I do know what to do,” Draco defended, his cheeks going slightly pink. “I just- I mean, I have an idea, but what if it’s more complicated than what you think? I mean, how do you really know what to do until you’ve done it?”

Armande shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been with a woman.”

Draco sighed and took another sip of his drink. “Much use you are then.”

“You could always ask him,” Armande suggested, now staring at the tall, dark-skinned wizard who had just entered the pub. “He looks like he’s slept with lots of women.”

Draco looked up and groaned when his eyes fell on the familiar, handsome face. “What’s Zabini doing here?”

“Why don’t you ask him? He’s coming this way.”

Muttering to himself, Draco glared at his old, school friend. “What do you want, Zabini?”

Blaise raised one thin, black brow. “Come now, Draco, that’s no way to talk to an old friend.”

Draco just glared at him.

Armande watched this exchange in some amusement and decided to spice up the tension. “Draco’s just angry because his fiancée won’t let him touch her.”

Inwardly cursing, Draco glared at his younger cousin (who only grinned) and then turned to look at Blaise’s devilishly smiling face. Blaise had always been the ‘ladies man’, being both ridiculously handsome, as well as having the charm to actually get the women. Draco, though good-looking in his own way, had no charm. Even when he tried to have charm, it still didn’t come off as polished as Zabini’s smooth-tongued words that could charm the clothes off any witch. Of course, Draco had not really been interested in charming clothes of witches before tonight, but now he was feeling more than a little irritated that he did not have that skill. It would make bedding Ginny Weasley a whole lot easier if he could; though, he thought darkly to himself, she would still probably resist him even then.

“My poor Draco,” Blaise said in a patronising voice, his slanted eyes positively gleaming with wicked delight. “I never thought you would not be able to control your women.”

Draco grunted rather ineloquently and took a much longer sip of his drink. “You don’t know Weasley,” he muttered bitterly. “She’s a complete nut case.”

Blaise laughed. “Nut case or not, I bet I could still get her to purr for me. You just don’t know how to deal with women. You never have.”

Draco flushed and glared at Blaise. It was true that he had never been spectacular with women. He had only been with Pansy and they had never even came close to having sex. Of course, once he had entered into society, his rank and wealth made up for his lack of seduction skills, but even then Draco had paid no attention to the women who had flocked to him, and he certainly had not taken mistresses like some of his friends had. His mother had taught him better than that. Now, however, he thought he could have done with the experience.

“Shutup, Zabini, or I’ll throw this drink at you,” he grumbled crossly, feeling very put out that everyone was picking on him for not knowing how to deal with women.

Blaise snorted inelegantly. “Fine behaviour from a Malfoy. What would your mother say?”

“What do you want?” Draco demanded exasperatedly, now turning his full attention to the other man. “Can’t you see I am trying to get drunk? You’re ruining my whole mood.”

“I’d say you already are drunk,” Armande commented, eyeing the collection of empty glasses in front of Draco with interest. “And your mood is always grumpy, so what difference does it make?”

Draco stared down at the cups in front of him. He blinked a few times and then sighed. “Well I’m not drunk enough.”

Blaise laughed again. “Clearly not, but if you think that getting drunk will suddenly give you the skills to seduce a women, you’re wrong.”

Draco just grabbed another drink and downed the whole lot. “I don’t care. Right now I don’t want to think about that damned honeymoon at all.”

It was bad enough knowing he had to get married to her in two days without knowing he had to somehow sleep with her as well. He just wanted to forget it all, for after that little episode today, he was feeling just as resentful to her as she was to him. The only problem was that he knew a child had to be born. The whole point of him getting married was to get a girl pregnant.

“Tell me, Draco,” Blaise said with a frown. “Why exactly are you so against this honeymoon?”

Draco flushed again and stared down at his cup. Blaise, an intelligent man, quickly put two-and-two together. “I see,” he said with a grin. “You’re a virgin.”

“There’s no need to broadcast it to the whole pub,” Draco muttered bitterly.

“No wonder Pansy dumped you,” Blaise mused out loud with a laugh. “She’s hornier than a cat on heat.”

Draco scrunched up his face in distaste. “You’re so crude,” he complained, and tossed down another drink.

“I’m just stating a fact,” Blaise said simply, “Just as I’m stating a fact when I say that you are the sorriest case for a man I have ever met.”

“And I’m stating a fact when I say you’re an idiot,” Draco retorted dryly.

Armande sniggered, but Blaise seemed unperturbed and only gave an annoying smile at Draco. “Idiot or not, at least I’m not afraid of having sex.”

“I’m not afraid of having sex!” Draco defended, his cheeks truly going quite pink now.

A few people around the pub looked at them, including a woman with very fake yellow hair and very large breasts. She seemed to be a barmaid. How clichéd.

Blaise chuckled. “Is that so? Why are you so nervous about your honeymoon then?”

Armande looked at Draco curiously, as if waiting for an answer. Draco felt like screaming at the both of them. It was absolutely none of their business how he felt about sex. He didn’t want to be having this conversation at all, and he’d be damned if he said anything.

“I’m not answering that,” he said stiffly.

Blaise and Armande exchanged speaking glances. “You see,” Blaise taunted. “You’re afraid.”

“I am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

Draco gripped his cup hard and tossed the fiery liquid at Blaise’s face. Armande fell into a peel of laughter and almost fell off his chair.

Blaise picked up a napkin and wiped his face calmly. He then smiled at Draco. “Are too.”

Draco stood up abruptly and stomped over to the yellow-haired, big-busted women.

“What’s he doing?” Armande asked Blaise curiously.

Blaise grinned and watched Draco start talking to the blonde. “I think he’s going to try and have sex with that woman.”

Armande’s jaw dropped. “Wow. He must be drunker than I thought. She’s not exactly a looker, is she?”

They both watched as the blonde woman smiled archly at Draco and wrapped her fingers around his arm. Draco then led her somewhat woozily up the stairs to where the rooms were kept and disappeared from view.

“Now this should be interesting,” Blaise mused out loud, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Who knew drunk Malfoys could be so diverting?”

OOOOO

Ginny stared at the clock on her mantelpiece. She was now back at Malfoy manor, in her bed, and feeling more than a little anxious that her fiancé had not come back home yet. She had finally made up her mind to apologise to Draco for her behaviour today, but since he had vanished, she was unable to do so. The longer she had to wait the worse her agitation became, and since it was now past midnight, she was beginning to wonder if he was purposely avoiding her.

Suddenly a loud crash sounded in the hallway outside her room, causing Ginny to jump in surprise. She could hear muffled voices and someone groaning in what sounded like quite a lot of pain.

Curious, Ginny clambered out of her bed and opened her door as quietly as possible. She just managed to catch a glimpse of Blaise Zabini dissapparating, before her eyes fell on two figures moving down the hallway. One of them was slumped over the other and groaning, while the other, who she recognised as Armande, muttered something under his breath. Armande opened the door to Draco’s room and then dragged the slumped figure inside, shutting the door behind him as quietly as he could.

Ginny stared at the closed door. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who the other man was, and feeling even more worried, Ginny quickly ran over and entered the room.

“What happened?” she demanded upon entering. “Is he okay?”

Armande jumped in fright and quickly raced in front of her, firmly blocking her view of Draco, who was now lying on the bed. “He’s fine; just a little knocked up.”

Ginny’s face went white. “Who did it?”

“Well, he did. Couldn’t take it anymore, so he went and got himself knocked up.”

“What?” she squeaked, her stomach twisting horribly in guilt. Was it possible that he had hurt himself because of her behaviour today? Had she really offended him so badly?

“Will he live?” she asked anxiously, trying to peep around Armande to get a better look at Draco.

“Of course he’ll live. People can’t die from shooting the cat; well, actually I think they can, but he won’t.”

Ginny frowned in confusion. “Wait, he shot a cat? I thought you said that he had hurt himself?”

“Well no one else did it to him, but he has shot the cat. The idiot didn’t know when to stop. We’re just lucky he didn’t go and explode himself, but there’s no doubt he’s definitely ruined himself with fire.”

She blinked, not quite sure what to make of this speech. She wasn’t sure if her fiancé had tried to kill himself by an explosion, burned himself with fire, knocked his own body about, or, oddly enough, shot a cat.

Draco mumbled something incoherent, and Ginny quickly pushed Armande out of the way and raced over to Draco’s side. She took one look at his scrunched up face and dishevelled appearance and felt tears spring into her eyes.

“Oh, Draco, I’m so sorry,” she wept bitterly, throwing herself onto his chest, and only vaguely wondered why he smelt so bad. “I didn’t mean to offend you today. I know I was being an idiot, but please don’t try kill yourself anymore, or shoot any cats, or whatever it was you were doing.”

Draco just groaned again and tried to roll away from her.

Armande frowned. “Ah, Ginny?”

Ginny lifted her face to look up at him. “What?”

“Do you actually know what’s wrong with him?”

She frowned and looked back down at Draco. He was lying flat on his back in a half-opened shirt (his coat seemed to have vanished), and his belt was unbuckled. His cheeks were flushed, and as he opened his eyes to stare blearily up at her, she could see the fogs of alcohol lingering in the grey.

Immediately her guilt-stricken look vanished and she abruptly pulled away from him. “You’re drunk!” she accused angrily. “I can’t believe that you went and got drunk!”

Draco just placed an arm over his eyes and ignored her. It was then that she noticed that the collar of his shirt had smudged lipstick marks stuck to it, as well as the faint traces of bruised skin growing on his chest where love bites had been made.

“You were with another woman?” Ginny exclaimed in shock, staring at her drunken fiancé in building rage. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Draco muttered in a strangled voice, and promptly vomited on the bed.

Armande solemnly shook his head. “I don’t think he’s ever drunk this much alcohol before. We didn’t even realise how drunk he was until he tried to go with that woman. He sounded perfectly fine, not slurring his words or anything, but maybe he can hold his liquor better than we thought. Still, he seems to be all to pieces now.”

Draco just groaned again and held his head in his hands, apparently not caring that he was covered in his own vomit. It was a pitiful sight, and even though Ginny thought he deserved everything he got, she couldn’t ignore her conscience.

She sighed in exasperation, muttering under her breath, “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” and then walked over to Draco. “Come on-” she took his arm and started helping him to his feet- “You can’t sleep in your own sick.”

He blinked, stared at her hazily for a moment, and then vomited again- this time on her. Ginny sighed much more grumpily this time. “Charming,” she commented dryly, wiping the sick off her face. “Well I guess I don’t need to worry about getting vomit on me now.”

Her eyes fell on Armande, who was sniggering at the both of them. “Don’t think you can just sit there laughing. Come here; you’re going to help me clean him up.”

Armande sighed but listened to her all the same. Between the two of him they managed to clean Draco up, give him fresh sheets that were not covered in sick, and also cast a quick sobering charm that would at least allow him to sleep without being sick everywhere. However, it would not help him escape the hangover the next day.

Ginny laid Draco back down on his bed and pulled the covers up over him. His hazy, grey eyes met hers for a moment before they slid shut from the effects of the spell. In a few more seconds he was fast asleep.

“He’s going to really hate himself tomorrow,” Armande said with a gleeful smile, while watching his cousin’s sleeping face.

“Good.” Ginny said bluntly. “I hope he has the worst hangover imaginable.”

He deserved it for going with another woman. She would never forgive him for that. Getting drunk she could handle, though she was still irritated by that as well, but him going with a woman was the worst possible thing she could think of.

Armande smiled slightly but said nothing in reply.

Ginny huffed to herself. “Well I’m going to bed.”

“Alright. Goodnight, Ginny.”

“Goodnight,” Ginny muttered, and then left the room, thinking bitterly to herself that this had turned out to be one of the worst days ever.

A/n: So that was a rather large chapter, (22 pages in total!!) but that is because I have condensed three chapters into one. It may seem a bit faster in pace for that reason, but I figured that it was far better to just move the action along by bringing it all into this chapter, rather than spanning it out with a lot of unnecessary ‘filler’ material. All the little moments I had planned for the three chapters will pop up later in the story, but basically what you’ve got in this chapter are the main moments I wanted to focus on. I hope you enjoyed it, and of course, I’d love to hear your feedback on it.