A Marriage of Convenience

Disclaimer: All that you recognise belongs to JKR.

Warning: None.

A/N: Once again I apologise if I did not reply to your review. I tried to reply to most of them, but just know that I did read them. I’m getting a bare minimum of 5-10 minutes on the internet, so you’ll have to forgive me for not being as diligent as I normally am.

I should also say now (as I don’t think I did) that I’m totally disregarding the seventh book, as well as a good portion of the sixth book. You can make up your mind on how Voldemort was defeated, but all the Weasleys are very much alive, and Draco was never ordered to kill Dumbledore. Does that mean Dumbledore is alive? That’s completely up to you, as it really makes no difference to my story and so will not be mentioned at all.

Husband and Wife

Draco let out a deep breath and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He felt more than a little ridiculous, and was not sure that he was very fond of the traditional garb Pureblood wizards were supposed to wear on their wedding day. His boots were black, as were his breeches, but instead of a waistcoat and the typical, white shirt, he wore a thick, black tunic over a loose, black shirt. On top of that, he had a magnificent, floor-length, black, fur cloak wrapped around his shoulders; festooned with a curious gold brooch on his right shoulder, which held the cloak together. The brooch was shaped into a perfect circle, with the Malfoy crest engraved in the centre: a large M entwined with a snarling, gold dragon, and four stars surrounding it.

There was much meaning behind the family crest, but Draco was more interested in worrying about his appearance than the importance of his brooch. He just could not get past the fact that he was wearing a tunic. Even wearing wizarding robes at Hogwarts had never been this bad, as at least then everyone had been wearing them. No one else in the congregation today would be wearing such a ridiculous outfit, and he felt more than a little put-out that it was only he who had to do this, for he knew that Ginny would get to wear a normal dress. It was sexism, or at least that was what Draco thought in his mind as he mentally grumbled over his appearance.

To a more romantic turn of mind, he seemed like some dark, villainous warrior of an old fantasy novel, being deceptively angelic in his appearance but shrouded in mystery and darkness. All he needed was a sword and a horse and he would be the epitome of a muggle warrior. Draco would have scoffed at such an assessment—being neither romantically minded, nor fond of muggle fantasy books—and he would have been horrified if anyone dared to call his features angelic.

Strangely, he did have a point in that respect. There was not much about Draco’s harsh features that could be considered angelic, except for his soft, silvery blond hair, and no matter how much his mother had like to call him ‘her little angel’, Draco had grown far too sharp-faced and angular to be the sweet, gentle image of such a heavenly creature.

He did look handsome in his own way, as he was extremely fair and pale, and this, combined with his black garb, only made the steely grey in his eyes stand out all the more fiercer. His eyes always had been his most attractive feature, even if they were often foreboding and piercing, but there was just something alluring about them all the same. Sometimes they would smile secretly when he thought no one was watching; sometimes they would soften into a deep, stormy grey and come alive with emotion, but always they were mesmerising in their own way.

Right now those grey eyes were flickering with nerves, giving his face an absurdly youthful appearance. He could not believe that in just half an hour he was going to be married to Ginny Weasley. He had hoped that something—anything—would happen to put the wedding off, but everything had stayed stubbornly smooth in its progression.

In part that was his fault, for even with all his grumbling and mutterings, Draco had helped to keep that smooth path, just as Ginny herself did. They had both agreed that it was better to get things over and done with as soon as possible, but that didn’t stop Draco from feeling suddenly sick to his stomach. If he didn’t know better, he’d say he still had his hangover.

Someone knocked at the door.

“Draco, are you dressed? Can I come in?” Armande’s voice called out.

Sighing slightly, Draco gave one final glance at his reflection, repressed another sigh, and then walked over and opened the door. He met his cousin’s smiling face with a scowl and silently held the door open for him.

“You know,” Armande mused out loud, walking into the room and looking rather handsome himself in a fine coat of navy blue. “If you keep looking like such a black, storm cloud, you’re going to scare your little fiancée right out of her knickers.”

Draco’s lips twitched involuntarily as he shut the door. “I guess I’ll know what to do for the honeymoon then.”

Armande chuckled slightly and then sat down on the bed. They both were silent for a moment—Draco being too obsessed with his own thoughts to really pay much attention to his cousin. This whole morning he had been trying his best not to think about the wedding, but it seemed that everywhere he went people were talking about it. Ginny had been shut away with the women the whole day, so he hadn’t even talked to her, and, to be honest, nor did he wish to. Seeing her would only make things worse.

“How are you feeling?” Armande asked a bit more seriously, watching Draco in some concern.

Draco sighed heavily and sat down next to Armande on the bed. “Tired, nervous, ill—take your pick.”

He had not gotten much sleep last night. It had seemed that he had spent the whole night tossing and turning in the bed, too worried about the upcoming wedding to even consider closing his eyes. It was all just so much to take in.

“Are you happy?” persisted his cousin.

“Happy?” Draco repeated with a frown, as if the word was far too foreign for him to understand. “How can I be happy? I’m twenty years old and getting married to a girl I barely know.”

It was ridiculous to think that he could be happy. Sure he and Ginny had managed to overcome some issues between them, and maybe it was true that he found himself viewing her in a much more kindly light, but that didn’t mean he was going to be suddenly happy that he was getting married to her. The very thought was preposterous.

He did not love her—there was just no getting around that fact. Out of all the women he could have had as his bride, Ginny had been the only one he could stomach living with and so he had chosen her. Sure she had her good qualities, there was no doubt about it, and sometimes he did find himself feeling some affection for her, but it was not enough to be considered love. He was not a romantic, and nor would he ever be, but even he knew the difference between love and mere attraction. What he felt for Ginny was a reluctant curiosity mixed with an unexplainable attraction. He felt drawn to her—that he could not deny—but it just was not love.

Draco had not forgotten the night he had wanted to kiss her, but as there had been a time when he had wanted to kiss Pansy as well, he did not put much stock in those feelings. He did have to admit that he thought she was beautiful, and, oddly enough, she just seemed to be growing more beautiful to him as each day passed, but he found himself dismissing it as nothing. Physical attraction, although important, was not the foundation of love. There just had to be something more, something deeper, and though he had little, if any, experience with love, he felt that what he and Ginny had together was a shallow puddle at the most. It was tense, uncomfortable, sometimes friendly, and—as much as he hated to admit it—sometimes flirtatious, but never was it love. 

Oblivious to these complicated thoughts, Armande simply stared at his cousin in some amusement and exasperation. “Well why don’t you try getting to know her then?”

“What?”

Armande shrugged. “You’re always complaining about how you don’t know her, so why not get to know her? You’re going to spend the rest of your life with her, Draco, whether you like it or not. Don’t you think that it’s time you start taking an interest in her? Find out what her hobbies are; see what she likes and dislikes—you know?”

Draco frowned to himself. His first thought was that he had taken an interest in her, but then he realised that he hadn’t really taken an interest in her. Sure he had been intrigued by her artlessness and spirited ways, and somehow he had found himself attracted to the apparently plain girl—who had suddenly not become so plain now—but that was not who she was. In the end he realised he had liked the idea of her, and that was what had caused all these problems in the first place. He had not taken the time to get to know her, and that distance and lack of understanding had inevitably led to one argument after the other, until they were quite ready to strangle each other.

Maybe Armande was right in saying that he needed to make an effort? They were, after all, about to become husband and wife. Draco supposed it couldn’t hurt to try and get to know her a bit more, could it?

“Maybe you’re right…”

“Of course I’m right,” Armande reverberated, cheeky grin firmly in place. “I’m always right.”

Draco laughed, the sound like a release to the nerves and tension building up inside him. “Funny, I thought that was my line.”

Armande grinned and placed a friendly arm around Draco’s shoulders. “Oh no, my dear cousin, you are always wrong—you just like to think you’re right. I, on the other hand, really am always right.”

“It’s a wonder your head can fit through the door,” Draco mused dryly, a small smile threatening to creep onto his mouth. He didn’t even bother to be offended by his cousin’s words. If there was one thing he knew about Armande, it was not to take him seriously when he would get that cheeky glint in his eyes.

“It’s ironic you should say that,” Armande remarked with a mischievous smile, “I’ve been wondering that about you my whole life.”

Draco laughed slightly and shook his head. “You always have to have the last say, don’t you, cousin?”

His disreputable cousin merely gave a careless shrug and hauled his body to his feet. “I’m nowhere near as bad as Ginny. That girl can just go on and on and on—even I finally have to give in and let her win. She just doesn’t shutup once she’s in her stride.”

Draco gave an involuntarily smile. “I know.”

He could recall every argument that he and Ginny had had, and almost every time it was she who had gotten the last say. It didn’t matter if she was in the wrong or not, she was just determined to be the final one to speak. Even the other day it had taken him yelling nearly at the top of his lungs to make her be quiet and listen.

It had used to bother him considerably, and he knew that if he were arguing with her right now it would be just as annoying, but he had come to accept that that was just who she was. He just made sure he cut her off firmly before she got too much into her stride. It seemed to be working so far…

Armande glanced down at his pocket watch. “We’d better go. The wedding is going to start soon, and we can’t have the bridegroom being late.”

Draco’s stomach gave a violent lurch. He tried to keep himself calm but for once he could not master his expression. This was just too much, even for him. He was getting married—actually getting married—and that meant his very life was going to change.

“This had better be worth it,” he grumbled under his breath. “Father, you owe me big time for this.”

OOOO

In another part of the manor, Ginny was feeling just as nervous and anxious as her soon to be husband. She was already dressed in her wedding dress and her hands kept agitatedly smoothing down the soft material. Diamond drop earrings hung from her ears, her cheeks were lightly dusted with rouge, and her lips painted a soft, reddish-pink. Her vibrantly red hair had been styled elegantly into a spiral of curls on her head, with a diamond tiara placed on the top that held the long, sheer veil in place. She had not covered her face yet and so her unusually pale face was still free to analyse, with her freckles standing out terribly against the milky whiteness of her skin. Celia would have condemned her as a village-maiden dressed in a pretty frock if she had seen her, but Ginny was far from worrying about things like that.

Narcissa had left some time ago to welcome the guests, and so it was just Ginny and her mother in the room. They had talked about many things in that time, but Ginny had found it very awkward. She could not explain to her mother why she was not as happy as she might have been, not having the heart to tell her mother that she and Draco had only pretended to love each other. It seemed like so long ago that they had made that agreement in the parlour, but somehow they had managed to fool everyone. Only Armande and Narcissa knew the real truth, but sometimes it seemed to Ginny that even they were fooled by the act she and Draco had played.

Ginny stared down at her hand where the two circles were burned into her skin. Soon those circles would fully unite, magically bonding Draco to her soul as her husband. It had been romantic as a child to think that she could be bonded to someone in such a way, but now she just felt frightened by it all. This was such a huge step, and she was very conscious of the fact that she did not love Draco. It was true that she no longer hated him, and she did realise that her feelings were becoming alarmingly muddled towards her fiancé, but love him? The thought was laughable. 

“Come, Ginny,” her mother said softly, placing an affectionate hand on her shoulder. “It’s time.”

Sucking in a deep, nervous breath, Ginny nodded and followed her mother silently out of the room, her heart quickening in fear. The world seemed to pass by her in a blur, distorted and meaningless when placed beside the reality of what was yet to come, and yet somehow she moved smoothly enough down the stairs towards the gardens where the wedding was going to be held.

They stopped outside the door to the gardens, waiting for the sign when they could enter. Ginny could hear the sweet melody of the orchestra that had been hired, as well as the gentle murmur of voices from the guests. Through a crack in the curtains, she could make out some of the guests, including her six brothers, her sister-in-law, Fleur, and one of her great aunts.

There were quite a few blonds gathered who she knew must be Draco’s relatives, but the two that most caught her eye were a couple near the back. They were obviously husband and wife, judging by the way they leaned against each other, but it was their faces that intrigued Ginny so much. The woman was extremely beautiful, with vivid green eyes just like Alexia’s, but her hair was more golden than pale blond, and there was something much sweeter about her expression. The blond man next to her seemed relatively short, with a thin, sallow face and watery, grey eyes. He looked rather weedy and weak, Ginny thought.

She vaguely wondered to herself if the couple were in fact Alexia and Armande’s parents, but her musings were cut shot at the sound of approaching footsteps. Ginny turned instinctively to see her father coming towards her, looking very grand in his finest dress robes. She smiled as bravely as she could for the occasion, and with a proud smile coming to his own lips, Mr Weasley enfolded her in his arms; enveloping her in his familiar spicy smell.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, holding her close to him for a little moment longer.

“Thank you,” Ginny mumbled, feeling fresh tears trying to squeeze out of her eyes. She had never imagined her wedding to be like this, but having her father hold her was a comfort, even if it was rather bitter sweet. She knew all too well that this marriage was going to take her from the life she knew and thrust her into the world of Pureblood high society. Her family, in all their humbleness and simplicity, could never be a part of that.

He pulled back and smiled tenderly down at her, wiping a tear from her cheek with his coarse, work-hardened thumb. “Don’t cry, Ginbug,” he admonished gently, using her old nickname in the tide of fatherly emotions swelling up inside him. “You should be happy.”

Ginny sniffed and shook her head quickly; frustrated with herself for letting her emotions get the better of her. She could not break now.

“I am happy, Dad, I’m just—”

“I know.” He smiled at her confusion and then turned to speak to her mother, leaving Ginny feeling just a little worried. Had her father perhaps realised the truth?

Before she could ask him what he had meant, her mother was quickly giving her a crushing hug and wishing her luck. Ginny blinked and looked up at her mother, who was now furiously wiping her eyes.

“I have to leave you now, sweetie, but your father will be here with you to lead you down the aisle.”

Ginny nodded and watched her mother give a very watery smile before slipping through the doors to take a seat by her sons. Music drifted in from the door, and Ginny realised that the orchestra had started playing the song that called the bride to the altar. It was an old melody and slightly haunting in Ginny’s mind. The low, woeful call of the strings seemed a far cry from the chirpy march that muggles used, but in a way it was perhaps more fitting. It reflected the solemnity of the ceremony, in which a daughter was being given from one family to another. Love had eased the meanings behind the exchange over time, but there was no love in this marriage. The reality of what was going to happen was all too clear in Ginny’s mind. 

The doors were thrown fully open and Ginny glanced anxiously up at her father, who nodded silently and pulled the veil down over her face. He tucked her trembling arm in his and then slowly led her out through the doors to the garden where the pale, autumn sun basked in a soft sea of blue. The trees were shaded in reds and browns, the fallen, fiery leaves littering the ground, and only a few, brave flowers still remained in full bloom. It was not the typical scene for a wedding, but Ginny thought it was beautiful nonetheless, and could not help but admire the picturesque scene.

A long, crimson carpet had been rolled out for her to walk up, and on either side sat the Weasley and Malfoy relations that had been invited. Faces turned towards her as she walked, both familiar and unfamiliar, but all of that was nothing as Ginny’s eyes fell on the lone figure standing at the end of the carpet. His steely eyes were fixed intently on her, but his expression was hard to read in that moment. She thought she could see admiration but she wasn’t quite sure. He always had been hard to interpret and now it was no different. 

Ginny couldn’t help but think to herself in that moment that he looked magnificent, and not at all like the spoilt, complaining man she was used to. His very presence commanded her eyes to watch him, and the closer she came to his side, the more powerful the feeling became. Perhaps it was simply his clothes, or maybe it was the intense emotion she could see swirling in his eyes—either way, she found it hard to look away.

She came to the end of the crimson carpet and met Draco’s eyes through the veil, feeling glad that her face was covered so that he could not see her blush. Her heart had suddenly quickened of its own accord in her chest, and her hands resumed their nervous trembling. Was it possible that she was really going to be married to this man?

Her father relaxed his hold on her arm and took her trembling hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly before offering it to Draco. This symbolised the passing of patriarchal rights that her father carried and was a very important part of the ceremony in a worldly sense. No words were to be spoken, and silently Ginny watched as Draco’s pale hand reached out and enclosed over hers, the sudden warmth of his skin surprising her for a moment. His eyes seemed to seek hers through the veil, but Ginny was too embarrassed to meet his gaze and stared down at her feet.

Mr Weasley stepped away from them and took his place beside his wife, leaving Draco to lead her up to where the holy man waited. Ginny finally raised her eyes and stared at the holy man in front of them, who seemed to shrivel right before her eyes in the sun. He was wearing a loose, brown robe and brown, leather sandals on his feet. He had a long, scraggly, grey beard, a rather protuberant nose, and a crooked smile that revealed a few missing teeth. His eyes were dark and embraced the smiling wrinkles that constantly lined his wizened face, and there was an aura of peace and warmth about him that seemed to soothe some of Ginny’s nerves. He smiled gently at her, seeming to understand her unease, and then did the same to Draco.

“Please,” he said kindly, embracing them both with his calming eyes, “face each other.”

Ginny turned to look at Draco, just as he did the same; their hands still clasped, as was custom. With her heart thumping in her chest, she lifted her eyes to his face, noting his stoic expression. He almost seemed as calm as the holy man, but she could feel the moisture gathering on his palm, which told her clearly enough that he was more nervous than what he was letting on. Somehow that was comforting.

The holy man pulled out a little book and opened it. He then began to read:

“We are gathered here today to act as witnesses to the union of Draco Lucius Malfoy and Ginevra Molly Weasley…”

Ginny found her mind wandering as the holy man spoke, her eyes proving to be just as wayward. She could see her family in the sea of blond, their flaming red hair standing out in a stark contrast against the fair Malfoys. Her mother was well and truly blubbering now, causing a small smile to pass over Ginny’s lips. She wondered if she would be like that if her daughter ever married.

Her stomach dropped suddenly. If she ever were to have a daughter it would be to Draco. Her eyes flickered to his at the thought, meeting his gaze with a sudden rush of nerves. Would he expect her to give him a child?

“Now for the vows,” the holy man continued in his frail voice, causing Ginny’s attention to abruptly turn to him. He coughed to clear his throat and glanced at Draco through his dark, aged eyes.

“Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love her and no other; respecting, cherishing and protecting her, as is your duty, until death do you part?”

Draco did not look at Ginny as he spoke. “I do.”

The holy man turned to Ginny. “And do you, Ginevra Molly Weasley, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love him and no other; respecting, cherishing and protecting him, as is your duty, until death do you part?”

“I do,” she responded in a small voice.

“Then by the power invested in me, I call upon the ancient magic of the heavens and the earth to bind your two souls, according to the laws of our land, as husband and wife; making you one in name, heart and spirit. May you keep your vows forever more, never breaking your faithfulness to the bonding magic that runs in your veins, amen.”  

“Amen,” Ginny murmured, along with the echoes of everyone else.

A strange surge of warmth spread through her palm where the two rings had been burned—the same hand that Draco was holding—and suddenly a flash of light surrounded their intertwined hands. Ginny stared down in surprise at the glowing light, watching as two gold rings ascended from the light to hover in the air before their stunned gazes. It was the final act of bonding magic—the two rings that had been burned into each of their hands having finally united as one to become corporeal wedding rings that would unite them both legally and spiritually.

“Take the ring,” the holy man ordered Draco, “and seal the magic.”

Draco took the ring with his free hand and slipped it onto Ginny’s ring finger. Ginny was then ordered to do the same for Draco. She did so with trembling fingers, feeling his piercing, grey gaze on her the whole time. Once she was finished she quickly snatched her hands away, almost forgetting the final part of the ceremony was yet to come, until those horrible words echoed around her:

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Her heart gave a violent jolt in her chest, her eyes instinctively darting to Draco’s pale face in horror. She could see his reluctance to follow the order in the way his jaw tightened, but he reached up to lift the veil from her face nevertheless. Her mouth started to go terribly dry, her hands becoming sweaty with nerves, and with her heart thudding painfully in her chest, she felt Draco’s hands lift the veil from her face; their gaze finally meeting for the first time without the obstruction of the veil.

For a moment they just stared at each other in silence—Ginny’s heart pounding so forcefully in her chest that she could barely breathe or think—but then he took that small step towards her and deliberately lowered his face closer to hers. If it were possible, her heart started beating even faster in anticipation of what was to come, and then his lips were pressing against hers and what little breath she had left was quickly stolen with his kiss.

Almost instantly Ginny’s cheeks flooded with pink, her whole body throbbing with the power of her beating heart as she realised that he was actually kissing her—if you could really call it that. A peck might have been a better word, as the kiss was both chaste and simple, finishing as abruptly as it had started; yet even as he pulled his lips away barely a second since they had touched, Ginny could still feel heart beating violently and her cheeks burning with her blush.

Both were quick to turn the other way to avoid the other’s gaze—too embarrassed and uncomfortable to face each other after their kiss—and soon they were swallowed up by the congratulations of their family. Narcissa was hugging Ginny, telling her how pleased she was to call her daughter; Molly was crushing Draco in her motherly arms, cooing all over him and how handsome he looked, and all the rest of the Weasleys and Malfoys were either eyeing each other in some hostility, or breaking the ice by sharing a few well thought-out insults under the cover of fake smiles. Even a wedding between the two families could not break a hundred-year-old feud.

Draco finally managed to escape Mrs Weasley’s clutches and quickly fled the gathering of well-wishers to take residence at a table where refreshments had been placed. He made a point to avoid the wine, and instead took a cup of harmless pumpkin juice. The wine might have calmed his agitation more than the juice, but he was in no desire to repeat the disaster of two days ago.

His eyes involuntarily sought Ginny in amongst the crowd; spotting her easily because of the regal, white dress she was wearing. He had never seen her look more beautiful than she did in her wedding dress, and he could still recall the sheer admiration her face had installed in him when he had lifted the veil. Even now he was struck by how radiant she looked, his eyes unwillingly riveted to her smiling face as she talked with her mother.

He dropped his gaze to stare at his cup, suddenly remembering the fleeting kiss that they had shared. Ever since that night he had seen her sleeping in her bed, he had wondered what it would be like to feel those soft lips against his, and now he knew that they were just as smooth and velvety as they looked. He could not deny that he had enjoyed the feeling of their kiss, as he was just a man, but even he had his scruples, and he had not been able to allow his lips to linger against hers longer than he needed to. It was just too awkward.

Draco spotted Ginny’s father coming towards him and rather fruitlessly looked around for a way of escape. Some of Ginny’s brothers blocked one path, looking rather menacing as they glanced towards him, and a rather unsavoury great aunt that had a fondness for pinching his cheek guarded the other. Defeated, Draco dredged up a smile to his lips and faced Mr Weasley with all the dignity he could muster.

“Mr Weasley,” he said stiffly, giving an equally stiff inclination of the head.

Ginny’s father smiled kindly at him and picked up a cup of wine. “No need to stand on formalities with me, Draco; you’re part of the family now.”

“I know.” Draco replied heavily, not quite managing to hide his reluctance in embracing that fact.

Mr Weasley said nothing for a moment, his eyes roaming the guests as he took a sip of his drink. Finally he turned back to Draco and gave him one of his own piercing looks. “I hope you plan to take care of my daughter.”

Draco was a little startled by the sudden attack, and bristling slightly, he placed his cup down on the table and folded his arms across his chest. “Of course I will,” he said defensively, wondering why Mr Weasley would even ask him that. He wouldn’t dream of hurting Ginny, no matter how annoying she could be. She was his wife now, and that meant that he would protect her with all the power he had.

“Good,” Mr Weasley said simply.

Draco shifted uncomfortably and looked back at the guests. It was rather uncomfortable talking to Ginny’s father, and he wished that the man would just go away. Unfortunately for him, Mr Weasley seemed quite determined to stay.

“She’s a good girl, my Ginny,” Mr Weasley said fondly, now turning his gaze to his daughter. “Always has been. I never had to worry about her when she was a little girl; she could always take care of herself.”

Draco followed the older man’s gaze to where Ginny was now talking rather heatedly with her brothers. He could tell by the way her eyes sparkled with rage that she was getting fired up about something, and vaguely he wondered if it was his fault the siblings were arguing. Judging by the way Ronald was scowling mutinously and throwing dark looks at Draco, the newly wedded Malfoy thought that his suspicions were probably right.

Ginny’s eyes caught his, her speech faltering for a moment as she blushed and quickly looked away again. This display seemed to silence Ronald more than her words could have done, and his face, if it were possible, went redder than his sister’s.

“Ah,” Mr Weasley said with some amusement, catching the exchange the newly weds had shared. “You two are very bashful towards each other. You’re going to have to forget your shyness if you want to enjoy tonight.” 

Draco made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat and avoided the older man’s gaze, his cheeks tingeing lightly with pink. He did not want to talk about the honeymoon with Ginny’s father, or anyone else for that matter, and inwardly wished that someone would come to interrupt the awkward conversation.

Mr Weasley laughed gently, seeming to notice Draco’s discomfort. “There’s no need to blush, my boy; everyone knows what happens after the wedding.”

“Oh look,” Draco said suddenly, unable to handle the torture any longer. “I think my mother is calling me.”

Not even waiting for Mr Weasley to reply, Draco swiftly made his escape from the older man and almost knocked Ginny to the ground in the process. His hand instinctively grabbed her shoulder to steady them both, but when he realised who it was he was touching, he quickly pulled his hand away as though burned.

“Oh,” Ginny breathed out, her face once more going red. “It’s you.”

Draco thought it would be rather pointless to state the obvious and so remained silent.

“I was just trying to get away from my brothers,” she confessed in a strained voice, still feeling the awkwardness of their situation after the kiss.

He smiled a little reluctantly. “I’m sure they were delighted about our marriage.”

She laughed in response, losing some of her shyness as the tension between them eased a little. “Bill and Charlie were alright about it, and Percy didn’t seem to care too much. Fred and George thought I could have done better, but Ron seems to have taken it as a personal insult. I don’t think he’ll ever accept that I’m married to you.”

Draco shrugged, not really caring either way. “It doesn’t bother me. Ronald can hate me as much as he likes.”

“Well I know you don’t care,” she replied with a rueful smile, “but it does make things awkward for me. They are my brothers after all.”

“If it makes you feel any better, my family are probably secretly hoping you will die early so that I can marry someone they think more suitable.”

Ginny laughed in spite of herself. “Oh that makes me feel loads better.”

“Ah,” a voice interrupted before Draco could make a reply. “This must be the radiant bride.”

Ginny turned and saw the same thin-faced man that had caught her attention earlier that day. She felt Draco stiffen beside her and glanced at him in surprise. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but it almost seemed like he was glaring at the older man.

“Uncle,” Draco said stiffly, “I didn’t know you were here.”

The thin-faced man laughed lightly. “I see your father’s dislike of me has rubbed off onto you.” When Draco continued to glare at him, the man smiled in some amusement. “Your mother invited me, Draco, so don’t sit there giving me those basilisk looks your father is so fond of. Lucius can think that I want to murder him all he likes, but that doesn’t mean I am going to miss my nephew’s wedding.” He chuckled again to himself. “Old Lucy seems to be doing a good job in killing himself anyway. I didn’t see him today. Was he too ill to leave his bed?”

Draco’s jaw tightened. “My father is very ill. It’s not good for him to be around too many people.”

The older man’s teeth gleamed in a smile. “Ah, I see. How unfortunate for him to miss his own son’s wedding, though I bet you haven’t told him yet that you’ve gone and gotten shackled to a Weasley. That really would send him to his grave.”

Ginny felt a little offended at that and glared at the older man. “I am right here, you know?”

Abraxias Malfoy grinned at her. “Keep your hair on, girlie. I know you’re there.”

Slightly mollified, Ginny just stared at him, not quite sure what to make of the man or his jovial way of talking.

“That’s none of your business, uncle,” Draco replied coldly, instinctively drawing closer to Ginny as if to protect her from his uncle. Ginny found that rather odd, not really seeing much harm in the man before her. He was just as weedy and weak as she had thought him to be, and his jovial speech was not exactly terrifying—more just annoying.

Abraxias let out a bark of laughter. “Aye, you’re going to become just as cold and haughty as your father. I feel sorry for you, girlie, but I’ll congratulate you all the same. Let’s just hope that you don’t live to regret your decision.”

He bowed to both of them with the usual Malfoy grace, a small smile playing on his thin lips, and then walked away.

Ginny frowned and turned to Draco. “Is that really Armande’s father?”

Draco nodded, his eyes still following his uncle’s progress. “Yes. That’s my uncle Abraxias.” His grey eyes found hers, a grim expression on his face. “I don’t want you talking to him. He’s not trustworthy.”

She blinked in surprise. “Why not?”

He sighed and looked back at the retreating form of his uncle. “It’s a long story. Just trust me on this one.”

Ginny nodded her head, but in her mind she wondered why it was that Draco seemed to dislike his uncle so much. Was he really untrustworthy, or was Draco just being paranoid? She found it hard to think that Narcissa would invite someone dangerous to the wedding, but then there were a lot of sour faces aimed towards her from the Malfoy side. She had a suspicion that some of them would be more than happy to slip a little poison into her cup, and decided that maybe it would be wise to just trust Draco on this one.

OOOO

The day continued just as awkwardly as it had begun. Ginny and Draco stuck together for the rest of the reception, finding it easier to handle their relatives that way rather than alone, but the continual hints and winks they received about the honeymoon soon had the two feeling just as uncomfortable and embarrassed as they had earlier. They found it difficult to meet the other’s eye, and spent most of their time in silence when they were not talking to a family member. The honeymoon loomed over their minds like a dark shadow, and neither wanted to broach the topic before they needed to.

Right now Draco and Ginny were stuck posing for wedding photos—their mothers having taken it upon themselves to hire a photographer for the occasion. Ginny and Draco had resisted as much as they could, but in the end they had given in, and so here they stood, arms wrapped around each other in the typical newly-wed pose; their smiles slightly frozen and forced.

“How long are they going to make us do this?” Ginny said through gritted teeth, still with her arms wrapped around his waist.

“I don’t know,” Draco replied in an irritated voice, currently in the same position, “But if that photographer tells me to say ‘cheese’ again, I swear I will hex him.”

Ginny let out an involuntarily giggle, having thought that for the past ten minutes, and looked up to meet his gaze; the smile still lingering on her lips. His lips twitched in response, and suddenly the flash of the camera blurred their vision.

“Perfect! You two make a lovely couple,” the photographer cooed with a broad smile.

Draco and Ginny shared an uncomfortable look and quickly released their hold on each other.

“I think that’s enough photos,” Draco said firmly.

Ginny nodded, her cheeks lightly flushing with pink. “I think so too.”

The photographer reluctantly complied, complaining that it wasn’t every day he got to take pictures of such a photographic couple, and then developed the photos for them through his magic. All the photos were handed to Narcissa, who smiled and thanked the man with much more friendliness than Draco and Ginny had.

Meanwhile, the newly-weds had started making a hasty retreat to a safer area of the garden, but they were once again accosted—this time by Mrs Weasley. She dragged them off to the dinner table, it being nearly six in the evening now, and so Ginny and Draco were left with no choice but to take their seats.

Most of the guests had gathered here to eat, and they were very eager to engage the two in conversation, but Draco and Ginny were too absorbed in their own thoughts to pay much attention. The fading of the sun also meant the coming of the night, and nighttime meant that they would have to leave for their honeymoon.

Armande seemed to have made quite the hit with Ginny’s brothers, and was currently entertaining Fred and George with some stories of his own. Ron was still glaring mutinously at every fair-haired Malfoy, and Narcissa, Molly and Arthur were all congratulating themselves on a very fine wedding.

The stars continued to spread, and Draco and Ginny only became more silent and distant to each other and everyone else; their awkwardness only increasing with each minute that passed. Finally it was time for them to leave, and even though they had tried to put it off for as long as they could, even they could not ignore the narrowed looks Draco’s mother was giving them.

Draco stood up with an inward sigh and glanced down at Ginny who followed suit. All the younger ones started whistling and making jokes as the unhappy couple made their way towards the box that held their portkey, causing both Draco and Ginny to flush in embarrassment. Eager to escape the taunts of their relatives, Draco picked up the portkey and held it out for Ginny to touch. As soon as her finger touched the smooth wood, she felt the familiar pull at her navel and then the world was spinning around her.

She opened her eyes to find herself standing in rather nicely furbished foyer. Surprised, she turned to Draco with a questioning look. “Where are we?”

“Malfoy Lodge,” he replied, while looking around the foyer. “It’s one of our smaller estates.”

One of the doors opened and a small house elf came rushing out. She bobbed a curtsy to Draco and Ginny, and then smiled at them both. “Welcome, Master; Mistress. I have your room ready.”

Draco leaned down and whispered in Ginny’s ear, “Watch out for her. She’s a spy for my mother.”

Ginny nodded seriously and looked at the house elf with misgiving. No doubt the elf had been placed here to make sure that they actually had a honeymoon.

The elf smiled again. “Please, follow me.”

Sighing slightly, Ginny walked side-by-side with Draco up a small flight of stairs. The house was much smaller than the manor, and seemed more like a grand cottage than anything else. She doubted it was very big at all.

The elf stopped outside a wooden door and bobbed another curtsy. “Your room.”

Draco dismissed the elf with a curt nod and opened the door and entered the room. Ginny followed much more slowly, taking her time to look at her surroundings.

The room was furbished nicely enough, but it was the very large bed in the middle that caught her attention. There was no doubt in her mind what was supposed to happen in that bed; she just wasn’t sure that she wanted to go through with it.

Draco closed the door, causing Ginny to stare at him in some alarm. She wondered if he actually expected her to have sex with him. She hoped not, but it was a little suspicious that he had shut the door.

Feeling a little edgy, Ginny folded her arms and watched him warily. He sighed and walked past her to sit down on the bed, remaining silent for a moment before he finally lifted his eyes to her face.

“Well that’s the wedding done,” he said tiredly.

Ginny remained standing, not wanting to move any closer to the bed. “I guess,” she agreed cautiously.

“Are you warm enough?”

She nodded, still keeping her distance.

He fell silent again and she made no effort to break the tense silence that had fallen between them. They were now husband and wife, and both were very aware of what they were supposed to do. Neither, however, wanted to be the first to broach the topic.

Draco scratched his head agitatedly and looked around the room. His eyes fell back on Ginny. “Do you want to look around the house?”

She nodded, glad that he had been the one to speak, and followed him out of the room. They peeped into the other rooms, noting that none of them had been made up for guests and were all covered in white sheets. It was clear that the elf had been ordered to only make up the master bedroom.

There were three guest rooms in total on the second floor, as well as a nice bathroom with a large bath. Ginny and Draco could find nothing much to distract themselves with up here though, and so retreated down to the first floor. There they found a small parlour, and then connected to that room, a lounging room with two cosy seats and a few shelves of books.

Ginny immediately agglomerated towards the bookshelves and started eyeing the spines of the dusty books. Draco did the same, and once both were satisfied that they had found something relatively interesting, they settled themselves down on separate couches and attempted to read.

Kicking off her heels, and discarding her veil and tiara, Ginny stretched out more on the couch, hoping to get more comfortable, but she was very aware of the tension in the room. She found herself reading the same words over and over again, and glanced at Draco to see if he was faring any better. Judging by his glazed eyes, he was not.

She glanced back down at her book and attempted to read again, but her mind kept turning back to what was supposed to happen later that night. If only she could think of a way to get out of it.

Time passed by and neither had made any move to go back to the bedroom. The little elf came in from time to time to see how they were going, but for Ginny it just felt like the elf was trying to hint them to go back to their bedroom.

Finally she could not take it anymore and placed down her book. “I’m going to bed.”

Draco awoke from his reverie and looked at her. He nodded and placed his own book down. “Yeah, I think I will too.”

They stood up and made their slow trek back up to their room, occasionally breaking the awkward silence by a feeble question on Draco’s part and a monosyllabic reply on Ginny’s.

She entered the room and quietly made her way over to the dressing table that had been set out for her. Sucking in a small, nervous breath, Ginny started to unfasten her dress, her fingers trembling slightly as she undid the clasps. To say that she was feeling uncomfortable was an understatement, but she knew that she had no choice but to get undressed. She could not sleep in her wedding dress after all, and if he was determined to make love to her than soon she’d be wearing nothing anyway. She felt rather sick at the thought.

Draco, who had just shut the door, flushed instantly when he saw what she was doing and quickly turned his face away to stare at the wall. Ginny did her best to ignore him and undid the rest of her dress, letting the silky material drop to the floor so that she was just standing in her petticoat. Draco’s eyes involuntarily flicked towards her again, watching in helpless fascination as she reached up and removed the pins from her hair to allow the soft, flaming locks to fall down and hug her waist.

He swallowed hard and quickly looked down at his hands, his heart beating uncomfortably in his chest. His discomfort was acute, and though he knew that he was supposed to sleep with her tonight, it didn’t stop him from feeling terribly nervous at the thought.

Ginny silently walked over to the bed and quickly slipped in between the sheets before pulling the covers back up to her chin. Her eyes peeped over the blankets and stared at him a little nervously. “Are you not coming to bed?” she asked in a small voice, noticing that he was still fully clothed.

Draco flushed again. He nodded and moved over to his side of the bed before starting to undress in a rather wooden manner. Ginny couldn’t help but watch him, trying to be as subtle as she could, but Draco seemed to sense that her eyes were on him and stared at her in some reproach.

Blushing furiously that she had been caught out, Ginny hid her face under the blankets. She soon heard Draco’s footsteps coming closer to the bed and felt her heart quicken with a sudden fit of anxiety. The blankets were pulled back, allowing a cool breeze to slip in, and then she felt the bed sink as his body slid in next to hers.

For a moment Ginny just lay there stiffly, her heart pounding painfully in her chest, and her eyes staring wide up at the roof. Her mind was going haywire, wondering frantically if he was going to suddenly roll on top of her and try making love to her. She didn’t know what she would do if he did that, and rather fearfully glanced at the man beside her. She just couldn’t do this; not tonight; not when they had only just been married and she still felt so horribly uncomfortable.

“Draco,” she said softly.

“Yes?” came the equally quiet reply.

“C-could we just go to sleep?”

There was a pause, and for a moment Ginny wondered if ever would reply, but then he spoke again:

“Okay.”

Letting out a deep sigh of relief, Ginny settled herself a bit more comfortably in the bed, closing her eyes as she did so. “Thank you.”

Draco said nothing. What could he say? He knew that by not sleeping with her he was breaking his promise to his father and mother, but he also knew that he would never force her to do anything with him. He was a heartless man sometimes, but even he would never do that. The very thought was sickening.

Sighing heavily, he muttered the spell to snuff out the candles, and soon the room was shrouded in darkness.  The wedding was over, but now the real test had begun. How was he ever going to get her pregnant and satisfy his parents?

A/N: Sorry if there are typos and stuff. I didn’t get much time to go over it. I hope you enjoyed it anyway.