PROLOGUE: SHED NO TEARS
Twenty-three year old Draco Malfoy stood stoic by his mother's side while listening to the minister eulogize. He was dressed in his best robes, sleek and sophisticated in satin black mourning that were as neat and composed as his handsome blank face and hard granite eyes. His mother beside him also stood emotionless, strong and unyielding as stone, her expression mirroring her son's. A few sniffles and the sound of tissues reverberated in the background of the minister's speech, but the mother and son stood in silence. Both of them were dressed in mourning robes as were the people surrounding them, but neither shed a single droplet of grief for the deceased and although both bore the same calm flat expression, only one of them felt as easy and undisturbed as they appeared.
Lucius Malfoy's funeral was held on a surprisingly sunny and calm day, the gentle breeze coming in from the coast lightly passing under the leaves of the surrounding trees, green with summer ripeness. The mild weather and cloudless, peaceful skies presented a stark contrast to the violent and gruesome manner in which he died: brutally attacked and murdered, supposedly by one of his fellow death eaters. The exact identity of the person, however, was unknown. What led the ministry to suspect one of Voldemort's henchmen was the dark mark that had been crudely engraved into his bare chest- it had been done right after he was tortured for hours, but right before he was finished off with the killing curse, they determined. It was also a fact that many of the Death Eaters, particularly the ones that actually went to Azkaban and paid for their crimes until they were liberated once more upon Voldemort's second coming years later, resented and hated Lucius Malfoy. Whilst the rest of them suffered in the dread fortress, he had been comfortably living life free those fifteen years. More than one of them had especial motive to kill him, especially after the fall of the dark lord by the hand of Harry Potter years earlier- the Death Eaters were no longer unified behind a central force- and with no mediation they scattered lawlessly, split into factions as they fought each other. But as Lucius was on the run himself and no one had witnessed his mysterious murder, the ministry had no leads, not even the slightest clue of how or where to investigate. Even Narcissa Malfoy, his beautiful devoted wife, claimed she had no knowledge of anyone wanting to claim his life, but then she hadn't heard from him often since he became a fugitive eight years ago.
Draco Malfoy also had no clue as to who would want to murder his father, although, the investigators suspected, he knew more than he had led on. Ever since he contacted them with a blunt "there's a dead body on my doorstep," not even bothering to mention that the body belonged to none other than his long missing father, Draco was under scrutiny- his lack of emotion startling everyone that saw his casual tearless face.
And here he was today, the same suave cool man without a care in the world, standing in front of his father's burial plot, his legs spread a little apart, his hands clasped coolly behind his back as he watched the casket being lowered into the ditch.
"Draco, Darling, Look!" exclaimed his mother suddenly as a bright red bird sailed across the sky and into a neighboring tree.
"Lovely, Mother," he said in a noncommittal tone as he lifted his pale blonde head and followed the red blur into the green with his keen gray eyes.
Minutes later, the ceremony was over and Draco followed his mother into the ministry limos that he ordered as the Head of the Department of Magical Transport. Helping his mother into the vehicle, he took one last look at the pile of earth, headed by a large silver slab that marked the final resting place of his father and then turned around, seating himself. The grave of Lucius Malfoy was never graced with the presence of his son or wife ever again.
***
"So Mr. Malfoy, how devastated were you when you discovered your father's mutilated dead body on your doorstep?"
Ginny Weasley, part-time reporter for the Daily Prophet looked up at her subject, trying to look eager as her quill automatically scratched down her previous question. Self-consciously she began to straighten her black robes, reaching inside a couple of times to make sure her gray business suit was immaculate, the slightly short skirt that ended just above her knee tended to ride up at times. Not that it would have mattered how she looked, she thought bitterly, Draco Malfoy hadn't once turned around from where he sat at his desk to even glance at her or recognize her existence since she came into the room.
"Mr. Malfoy?" she asked again when he didn't answer.
Finally he turned around and looked at her, showing her his face for the first time. The effect was breathtaking. Before she could stop herself, Ginny ran her eyes over his gorgeous face, lingering on his piercing gray eyes and smooth thin lips. He had definitely grown up from the scrawny rat-faced teenager she'd remembered, as she lowered her appraisal to his broad shoulders and chest; and even though he was sitting down, she could tell that he had become quite tall and then there was that something in his air, emanating from inside him, that something that distinctly commanded respect, and, had she been his lover, worship.
Looking back up into his eyes, Ginny caught a sparkle of amusement- he had noticed her appreciative scrutiny. A flush spread across her face at her embarrassing realization, a smirk spread across his. Thankfully, however, he didn't say anything to make the situation worse- she'd have expected a "Like what you see?" quip from the teenage prat that used to annoy her and her family endlessly at school, but all he said was, "As you can see Miss…" he paused, noticing her professionally tied back crimson hair, "Weasley, I have no desire for this interview. Perhaps, you can just make something up so that you can stop wasting your time and mine." He paused again waiting for her to reply.
"You mean fa-fake an interview?" she stuttered and blushed again when she realized how stupid she sounded: that was what he had basically asked her to do. What was the matter with her? The second he turned around she had lost all ability to talk coherently.
"As you know, I didn't call for this interview. My assistant and my boss, the Minister, decided that I wasn't putting out a good image with my lack of hysterical sobbing and I, for one, have had enough of this politically correct crap." He stared at her accusatorily making Ginny look down in embarrassment. It was true: her boss had told her to specifically phrase her questions carefully so that the right response would be elicited from Mr. Malfoy and here she was asking questions like "How devastated were you?"… It had been very tactless of her. But she needed this interview; her job was on the line here and if her boss found out she'd blown it she would be fired and then how would she pay her way through the Healer Academy?
Just then a more puzzling question popped into her mind: "How did you know my name?"
"What?" he looked up from his paperwork to notice that she was still here. Couldn't the Weasley leave him alone with her stupid pointless questions and her distractingly attractive presence? He noticed that she had placed her hand temptingly on her hip in an obstinate gesture, but it made her look challenging and so wickedly sexy. Dragging his eyes up her long smooth legs, past her curvaceous hips, petite waist, and ample chest, he settled his gaze on her pale white face, staring directly into her large brown eyes.
Had Malfoy just checked her out? No it couldn't be, could it? Suppressing a shudder, Ginny tried to forget that look of undeniable lust as he undressed her with his eyes. "My name, how did you…?"
He smirked again. "Well, when people wear name tags I generally assume that they display their proper names," he said casually, his smooth voice giving her images of cool silk sheets and soft tender touches.
Looking down at her Daily Prophet ministry pass, she realized he was right and she had just made a big deal out of nothing, thinking that he'd remembered her from their school days- he'd barely known she was alive.
"Er-right." Nervously, she bit her lip to stop the red hot flush that was creeping up her neck, spreading to her face. The sight of her full lower lip caught between the sharp teeth did not go unnoticed by Malfoy as he lowered his darkening gaze and stared hypnotically at where she dented the red softness of her mouth. Just then Ginny's temper flared as she came back to her senses, remembering that a few moments ago he had practically told her to take a hike because she was annoying him about an interview that he had agreed to, no matter how begrudgingly he had agreed to it he still owed her a few minutes of his time so that she could write a proper article and of all the most degrading things, now he was staring at her like he was starving and she was a piece of meat he could devour.
"Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy, but I believe you agreed to this interview," she said haughtily, her voice firm and assertive, "Now you are going to answer my questions- I don't care whether you're lying, or being politically correct or whatever, but you owe me a portion of your time so that I can write a decent bullshit article to make you look good!" She finished with a deep breath, her soft brown eyes blazing vividly as she met his astonished expression.
In a matter of seconds the shock ebbed from his face, replaced with a sly smile. "Alright, Ginny."
"Alright?" It was her turn to be surprised.
"Yes, but not now. I'm rather busy with my paperwork at the moment," he said gesturing to his cluttered desk.
"When?" she managed to ask, her mouth still held agape.
"This evening, over dinner, at the Unicorn's Horn. Meet me there at nine o'clock sharp and I'll give you all the details you need."
Ginny bobbed her head up and down in an attempt at a nod. Somehow her mind registered that it was time for her to go and she unconsciously began to move her legs, backing away into the door. However, just as her hand, behind her back, found the knob and she was about to turn to leave he called her back.
"By the way, the restaurant requires formal attire so dress accordingly, in fact, dress robes are required." With that last instruction, Draco brought his head down to his work again and didn't even bid her goodbye. She didn't bother to say goodbye either as she turned around to exit his office, dodging a flying memo as she left. The embarrassed flush never left her cheeks as she suddenly realized that he had asked her out on a date; the flush only became brighter as she went over their conversation in her head and noted for the first time that he had said her name.