Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter Six: Secrets and Desires

"Please forgive me," the red haired woman whispered, her wide eyes on her husband as he moved throughout their room in brooding silence. "I didn't mean what I said in your study. You know I didn't."

"I know," the man said quietly. He turned away from his desk to face her, his eyes dark and steady on her face. She felt heat crawl up through her cheeks at his look. He could make her blush with a single word, a single look. It was just as thrilling as it was irritating. He moved with a sinuous grace to sit on the bed beside her. Without looking at her face, he picked up her delicate hand and played absently with her fingers.

"You know I love you, don't you?" he said quietly, and since he wasn't looking at her face he didn't see her eyes dim with tears.

"No," she said softly. "I didn't. But I'm certainly glad to hear it."

Startled, he looked up at her, and was immediately caught in the depths of her eyes that glittered with tears. She pressed her damp cheek to his, and his arms came around her to hold in silence. "I'll never leave you," he whispered to her, stroking her hair.

To his surprise, she reared back in his arms, her eyes morphing from pleasure to a nearly frightening intensity. "Swear it!" she said hoarsely, capturing his face between her hands. "Swear it on your life!"

He blinked up at her. "I swear it," he said slowly. "On my life. On my soul. I'll never leave you. Not even in death."

She flung herself back at him again, her arms closing over him convulsively. "I'll love you until I die," she whispered, her voice trembling with tears. "And even beyond. Never, ever doubt it."

"I don't," he whispered back, stroking his hands over her back. Then he kissed her, and drew her down into their bed.

* * * * * *

Draco woke abruptly, every sense coming alert with lightning quickness. He didn't move, merely lay in silence, listening intently. He didn't sense movement or sound in the room, and so after a few minutes of frozen stillness he slowly cracked open his eyes. When nothing jumped out at him, he quickly swung his legs out of the bed, grabbing his wand that lay on his bedside table. He swiftly checked the parameters of the room, then eyed the open French doors suspiciously. He knew for a fact that he had closed them before he went to bed. He wasn't so foolish as to leave intruders an easy way into his home. He glanced suspiciously around the room once more, then stalked towards the doors.

He tapped the handle with his wand, and whispered, "Prior incantato." The door handle shivered for a moment, then a ghostly figure emerged from the door handle. Eyes narrowed in thought, Draco recognized the miniature version of himself, casting the protection charm on the doorway. "Deletrius," he murmured, lips pursed in thought. He knew for a fact he hadn't opened those doors, and he also knew that no charm had opened them. The last charm to be used on those doors had been the one that he had cast himself years ago when he had first moved into this room.

Suddenly, he heard a muffled sound coming from Ginny's bedroom. He whirled on his heel, ready to rush through the door. He was halfway across the room before he realized what the muffled sounds were. His jaw hardened and his facial expression went blank as the realization slapped him in the face. She was weeping. Oddly enough, the thought made his guts twist. He involuntarily took another step closer to the door that separated their rooms, then stopped himself. His hands fisted in impotent fury. He couldn't stand the thought of her tears. He knew it was irrational, considering that they weren't even friends, but the feeling was there all the same.

Cursing softly beneath his breath, he pulled on a pair of trousers and flung open the door to his room, trying to ignore the sounds of her tears. He hadn't moved more than a foot beyond her door before he turned back on his heel. His lips were pressed into a tight line, his eyes like hard chips of flint. No matter what he felt for her, she was his wife. And he couldn't stand to hear her sob alone in the darkness. He laid his hand on the door, almost hesitant to actually open the door. He could only imagine her reception if he barged through the door, intent on fulfilling his white knight urges. She'd probably throw something at his head. The thought made his lips curve slightly in an almost tender smile.

When he heard her whimpers slow and silence enter the room, he leaned his forehead against the door, feeling drained. His chest felt tight, as if he were the one who had cried. Which was ridiculous. He hadn't cried in twenty years. Not since he had been seven years old and his father had killed his puppy. On the thought, Draco's lips tightened. It was almost easier to remember his own painful memories. For some reason it was harder to know that such things bothered Ginny's nights rather than his own.

He felt the presence at his back mere moments before he spun on his heel, his wand flying out as he raised it to hex the person. He clamped his mouth shut when he saw who it was, although his eyes narrowed and started to glitter dangerously in the darkness. "What are you doing here?" he sneered, keeping his voice low so he wouldn't wake up Ginny.

Gareth's face was stony, and shared no emotion. Even his eyes were flat. "I heard her crying," he said shortly. "I came to make sure that she was all right."

"You heard her all the way from your little hut?" Draco asked disparagingly, referring to the tiny house that Gareth lived in that was on another part of Draco's property.

Gareth stared at him in silence. Any other man would have cowered before such a look, but Draco had used the look himself upon occasion. He didn't even flinch. Gareth's eyes flicked toward Ginny's door, and Draco's eyes narrowed to slits. He could have sworn he saw a flicker of concern in the older man's eyes. Which made him fighting mad. Gareth was in no position to covet Draco's wife. "What are you doing?" Draco hissed. "My wife is none of your concern, Gareth."

Gareth turned his dead eyes back to him. "You should take better care of your wife," he said, his voice absolutely empty.

Draco nearly hissed at him, and restrained himself a breath before he actually did it. "I need to protect my wife?" he snarled. "I seriously doubt that. And don't come in my room again."

Gareth stared at him in silence. "I didn't come in your room," he said coldly. "Why the hell would I?"

Draco shrugged, even in his anger the movement managed to be graceful. "How the hell should I know? I don't know what goes on inside your twisted little mind, and nor would I like to. But you opened my doors."

"I didn't open your doors." For the first time, irritation abounded in Gareth's voice. "I don't even come near your doorway, Malfoy. I don't want to contaminate myself." He sneered at Draco in silence.

Draco gave him a cold look. "Have a care how you speak to me."

"What are you going to do?" Gareth shot back, keeping his voice low as the other man had done. Although they hadn't moved beyond Ginny's door, they had no desire to wake her with their argument. "Are you going to throw me out, Malfoy? You know you can't do that."

"I can do whatever the hell I want," Draco said curtly. Other than the fury glittering in his eyes and his cutting voice, he didn't show his agitation. His body was relaxed as he leaned nonchalantly against the wall that separated Ginny's doorway from his.

Gareth's eyes glittered at him through the low darkness, but before he could speak, Draco did. "You're in my home, bastard. I can do whatever I want."

With a savage smile, he saw his blow hit home. Gareth's body tightened like a wire, and his hands fisted impotently at his sides. There was a moment of hushed stillness in the hallway, then with slow, deliberate movements Gareth walked toward the stairs and downstairs.

Feeling unsettled by the memory of Ginny's tears and wanting to wound Gareth further, Draco quickly moved after him. He stood at the railing and watched as Gareth slowly walked downstairs. "Why do you call yourself that?" he called softly, tauntingly. "We both know it's not your real name."

Gareth stopped at the foot of the stairs, and Draco held his breath, anticipating the other man's response. Gareth didn't look at him, merely spoke softly. "It is now." Then he walked away, leaving Draco's pleasure like ashes in his mouth.

Fuming, Draco spun on his heel. What was with all these feelings lately? He wondered, ill-temper making him want to stomp as though he were five years old again. But, mindful that Ginny was asleep, he tempered his irritation. Just as his fingers touched the handle to admit him back to his own room, he heard a muffled crash come from downstairs. Immediately he spun on his heel, his eyes flashing like stars in the darkness of the house. Despite his antipathy for the other man, he knew that Gareth wasn't so ungraceful that he would ever break anything. And neither would his house-elves. If they had the audacity to break anything in his house, they would quickly find themselves not in his house anymore.

He flew down the stairs, heading for his study. As soon as he touched the door handle, it glowed a soft green. His lips compressed into a thin line. The handle glowed green whenever someone else had entered his office. He raised his wand, then shoved open the door. He saw a head turn quickly toward the door in surprise, and didn't give it time to speak. "Petrificus totalus!" he shouted, and heard the loud thump as something fell heavily to the floor and lay unmoving.

He rounded the desk quickly, then stopped in surprise. The creature lying on the ground at his feet was none other than his friend Blaise Zabini. He narrowed his eyes, and then pointed his wand at Zabini. "Finite incantatum," he said curtly, and watched in silence as Zabini stumbled to his feet.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy! What's wrong with you?" Blaise growled, bracing one hand on the desk to steady himself.

"I thought you were an intruder," Draco said mildly. "Which I'm assuming you are. What the hell are you doing in my house, Zabini?"

"Is that any way to greet a friend?" Blaise asked grumpily, plopping himself into one of the chairs that sat in front of Draco's desk. To divert his gaze from the desk-he couldn't look at it without remembering how gorgeous Ginny had looked seated upon it-Draco leaned down and picked up the book that Blaise had dropped when he had been petrified.

He glanced over at Blaise and raised one eyebrow. "Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy? What are you doing with this, Zabini? And why did you have to break into my house for it?"

Blaise didn't even have the grace to look repentant. "There's this girl that I'm dating-I wanted to make sure that she doesn't have webbed feet or something," he said defensively.

Draco rolled his eyes. He knew that Blaise was lying, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to call him on it or not. "So that's why you broke into my house in the middle of the night? To make sure your latest conquest doesn't have webbed feet? I don't see how her webbed feet are going to affect anything unless you plan on marrying the chit."

Blaise shrugged. "Don't feel like shagging a webbed foot girl. That just doesn't do it for me."

Draco sighed heavily and rubbed at the rising ache between his eyes. "Zabini-"

"You're awfully preachy," Blaise said thoughtfully. "You're not much fun lately. Has marriage softened you up?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco said irritably. "Of course not."

Blaise grinned cheerfully at him. "Well then, I don't guess you'd have a problem with coming out with me tomorrow night."

"And going where?" Draco sighed. It was always best to ask Blaise before even leaving. The man could come up with the oddest places for trysts with women, and Draco had no desire to fly to the middle of nowhere to meet up with a woman with only three teeth-again. He had taken his leave of the woman about three minutes after he had arrived, and it had taken him the rest of the night to get home. He wasn't planning on repeating that experience.

"Nowhere bad," Blaise said cajolingly. "Just Knockturn Alley."

Draco sighed. Although his wife-damnable Gryffindor that she was-would probably have a problem with Knockturn Alley, he had nearly grown up there. He was a frequent visitor at his father's side, and when his father was gone he often conducted business there. And besides, Knockturn was a damn sight better than some of the other places Blaise had taken him to. "Fine," he acquiesced. "When were you planning on going?"

"Tomorrow night?" Blaise asked him, raising his eyebrows. Then he grinned at Draco. "Unless you're not too. . .busy."

Draco forced himself not to curl his lip. He didn't like the tone in Blaise's voice whenever he indirectly mentioned Ginny. But Blaise hadn't said anything about her outright yet. "No," he said curtly. "I won't be busy."

Blaise bounded out of his chair with an energy that made Draco tired just looking at him. Blaise held out his hand imperiously and waggled his fingers in Draco's direction. "Can I have the book?"

Draco eyed him suspiciously, then handed him the book. "Fine, fine," he grumped. "Just don't go breaking into my house again, Zabini, or a lot more will happen to you than just being petrified for a minute."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Yada yada yada. You're a big scary guy. I get it."

"Shut up," Draco muttered, rising from his own chair. Blaise eyed his bare chest for a moment, and Draco watched him with one raised eyebrow.

"Meet your satisfaction?" Draco drawled, and Blaise glanced back up at his face with a devilish smile.

"Looks like you just jumped right out of bed, Malfoy," he said, his voice teasing. But beneath the teasing there was something that made Draco's eyes narrow.

"Comes from being woken by an intruder," he said slowly, watching his friend.

Blaise stepped toward the door and hesitated, as if he wanted to ask Draco something. He turned to face him again, and his lip curled. "And how is the little wife? Has the little Muggle-loving bitch already got you whipped?"

In a flash, Draco was around the desk. His hands fisted in Blaise's shirt. With rage blinding him, Draco wasn't quite sure how he dragged Blaise from the middle of the room to a wall, but a second later he was slamming Blaise back against one of the walls. "What did you say about me?"

"Holy fuck," Blaise yelped. At his outburst, Draco snarled at him again, his knuckles digging into Blaise's chest from where his hands were fisted in the shirt. He rapped Blaise against the wall almost absently.

Blaise's eyes started to smolder. "Take your fucking hands off me, Malfoy," he snapped. "I'm not a first-year for you to scare." He shoved at Draco, who only slammed him back against the wall again, harder this time so that Blaise's head rang from the impact with the wall.

"What did you say about me?" Draco repeated dangerously. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I've gone soft, Zabini. I'll kick your ass if you talk about me that way ever again."

"I get it!" Blaise hissed, eyes flashing. "You're the big bad, Malfoy. Let me the fuck go."

Draco stared at him in silence with eyes that were so dead and still that Blaise had to suppress a shiver. The man did have intimidation down to an art. Finally Draco eased his hold on Blaise and took a step back. His eyes were still hard, and they didn't move from Blaise's face. Nice job, Blaise told himself in irritation. Now Malfoy's pissed off at you. Not a nice prospect. Wincing at the bruises already rising from Draco's hands, he bent to pick up the book that he had dropped when Draco attacked him.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing at Draco and not quite sure what to say. Draco still had that impassive face that he had learned from his father-a face that had always scared a younger Blaise to death when they were at Hogwarts. Obviously he hadn't grown out of that phase too much, even though he was probably one of Draco's only friends. Finally Blaise turned toward the doorway, the book clutched in one sweaty hand. He was nearly to the door when Draco called him.

He turned, involuntarily responding to the command that always seemed to accompany Draco's words. It was as natural to him as breathing, and Blaise had always envied him for it. He eyed a stony-eyed Draco with trepidation, although none of it showed on his face. He wasn't a Slytherin for nothing. "Don't ever speak about my wife again," Draco said emotionlessly. "Not her name. Not about her. Not anything. Understand me, Zabini?"

Blaise sneered. "Why does it matter to you, Malfoy? It's not like it matters, anyway. You're just with her for the politics."

"She's my wife," Draco said coldly, his tone unchanged. "And as such she will be given the respect that is due the Malfoy name. Even from you, Zabini."

"Fine," Blaise snapped, Draco's lack of emotion grating on his nerves-just as it was designed to do. "I won't talk about her. Can I go now, master?" He made a mocking bow, his eyes narrowed with anger. Draco didn't answer, so Zabini slipped out of the room, fuming.

The absolute nerve of Malfoy! Knocking him around as though they were in Hogwarts again, as if he had the right to threaten Blaise over some stupid Muggle-loving whore! He'd show Malfoy. He'd-He was abruptly jerked out of his thoughts when he was slammed up against a wall. His head snapped back, slamming against the wall, and he couldn't prevent the little cry that emerged at the sudden pain.

He stared, and for one moment thought it was Draco again. A moment later he saw the subtle differences in appearances, and his lip curled automatically. Gareth's hands were fisted in Blaise's shirt, in the same position that Draco's had been moments before. Blaise winced when Gareth's knuckles dug into tender skin already abused by Draco's hands. "Take your hands off me," Blaise hissed at him, eyes flashing in the near-darkness of the hallway. He saw with irritation that he had almost made it to the front door before the brute attacked him.

"Don't come here again. And don't come around Virginia anymore, either." Gareth said quietly, and Blaise had to shiver. Whereas he had been able to hide his fear of Draco, he couldn't hide it from this man. The man positively oozed danger. And not Draco's refined, aristocratic danger, either. This man was made for quick, savage fights in dark alleyways; made for using the knife and the sword instead of a wand. He was frankly terrifying.

Despite that nerves had seized him by the throat, Blaise said roughly, "Not your house. Not your wife."

Gareth's hands tightened on Blaise's shirt so hard that Blaise was sure that it would rip. He was pressed so hard into the wall that he was sure that he would have crushed ribs. All this for a fucking book, he thought grumpily, vaguely noting that said book was lying open at his feet from where he had dropped it. He absently saw that it had opened to the page on Gregory the Smarmy before Gareth was shoving at him again.

"I don't care," he said curtly. "Don't think you can come back here without me knowing, Zabini." He put his face very close to Blaise's, his eyes glittering dangerously. "Malfoy is a puppy dog compared to me, Zabini. I wouldn't try my temper."

"Oooh, the big bad wolf," Blaise said sarcastically, then regretted it a moment later as Gareth's eyes flickered.

"You only get one," he said softly, and then Blaise found himself sailing through the air. He fully expected to hit the wall within moments of going airborne, but instead he skidded face-first into the gravel that led up to the front door. His curses filled the air as the gravel scraped away the skin on his face and hands as he tried to brace himself. He stumbled unsteadily to his feet, swearing loudly.

"Shut the fuck up," Gareth said quietly, coldly. He stood in the doorway, his lips pressed into a tight line of anger. Blaise glared at him and called him a few uncomplimentary names, not even caring that Gareth obviously heard him. He didn't even see Gareth's arm move, but a moment later the genealogy book slammed into his chest with enough force to knock him back on his arse. Swearing, he stumbled to his feet again-this was getting really old-and saw that Gareth had closed the door behind him.

Livid, he clutched furiously at the book, his fingers digging into it in silence. "I'll be back," he hissed softly at the quiet house. "You're not going to scare me away, bastard." Then he turned on his heel and limped down the hill toward the gates so he could Apparate away.

* * * * *

When Draco trudged back upstairs, he unaccountably felt jittery and nervous. He paused in front of his wife's doorway, but heard nothing. Cautiously, he touched his fingers to the doorknob and turned it silently, then peered into the room. It was hard to see anything in the dim of the room, but he could indistinctly see the lump of Ginny lying curled into a ball in the bed. He stepped into the room, and paused cautiously. When nothing jumped out at him and no hexes attacked him, he proceeded to the side of her bed, his feet moving silently over the carpet. She didn't stir at his presence, even when he loomed over her.

As the moonlight slanted in through the windows, he saw the silvery tracks of tears drying on her cheeks. Something seized him low in the gut, and he pressed his lips together tightly in response to the feeling. He couldn't stand the thought of her tears. They twisted him into knots, and he didn't know why. Granted, he didn't like female tears. They were a weakness, and he had no use for weakness. But her tears made him want to stroke and soothe, a feeling that he was wholly unfamiliar with. Almost as if someone else were controlling his body, he saw his fingers reach down and skate softly over her pale cheek, smoothing the dampness from her skin. "Sleep without dreams," he whispered hoarsely, and she stirred for a moment. He froze, not wanting to be caught in such a…tender position. But she only sighed softly, then stilled again. When she had moved, her lips had brushed lightly over the inside of her wrist, which was right beside her mouth.

Draco froze at the gentle touch. He didn't know why, but it stunned him down to his toes. That touch was enough to make him want to climb in bed with her, and she had barely even touched him. And she was asleep, at that! Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled his hand back. He stood for a long moment, staring down at her face. Asleep she looked almost angelic. Her features were smooth and unconcerned, her wine-red hair tumbled and in disarray. Whatever cares bothered her in her dreams were gone now, and he was oddly grateful for it. He accepted that he had bad dreams-he hadn't lived the nicest of lives. But Ginny shouldn't have to deal with such things.

He shook himself upon the thought. Fighting his own emotions, he spun on his heel and strode out of the room, closing it softly behind him before he went into his own room. He crawled into bed, telling himself resolutely that he wouldn't think any more about the Weaslette tonight. But when he put his hand to his face, he could smell her tears on his fingertips, mixed with the scent of her skin.

********

Ginny sighed as she sat down wearily at the desk in her room. It had been a week since she had argued with Draco. A week of frigid silence between man and wife. She had carefully stayed out of his way, not wanting to put herself into the situation of having another argument with him. Arguments with Draco weren't like arguments with other people. Draco found weaknesses and exploited them. Arguments with Draco were a battle-they left open, bleeding wounds that took time to heal. And she was working on healing her own heart. Draco's touch had evoked memories that she had worked hard to suppress, and made her feel things that she had never felt. She was confused and wanted time to sort through her emotions. Luckily, Draco seemed inclined to give her that time, considering that he was avoiding her as well. The house-elves also seemed to shun her-she hadn't seen one in the whole week she had been at Malfoy Manor. She hadn't emerged from the house because she was supposed to be blissfully making love with her husband at all hours of the day-as newlyweds were wont to do. The thought made her lips curve bitterly. That couldn't be farther from the truth.

She stared down vacantly at the pile of papers lying on her desk. She had spent the last week getting familiar with the corridors in Malfoy Manor, and she had finally come upstairs to try to start working on the book she was currently writing. But as she stared down at the paper, she knew instinctively that she wasn't going to be able to write anything. She was unsettled and jittery, and she couldn't immerse herself in her own creation anymore than she could fly without a broomstick.

Sighing and cursing all Malfoys under her breath, she propelled herself from the chair and strode toward the door. Without thinking about it, she padded downstairs. Just as she was about to step out the front door, Gareth's voice spoke unexpectedly from behind her. "I wouldn't go out that way, Madam."

Gasping, she spun on her heel, her wand in her hand without memory of how it had gotten there. Her heart pounding, she stared at Gareth for a long moment before her mind processed his identity. He merely raised his eyebrow at her, not intimidated by her slim wand pointing at his chest. Finally she lowered her wand and put it back in her pocket. "Sorry," she murmured. "I'm just a little jumpy."

"I can tell," Gareth said dryly, moving toward her on silent feet. Again, she noticed that the man made no sound. It was a little eerie. Almost as if he were a phantom himself, much like the ones that lived here at Malfoy Manor. "You would do well to go out the door in the kitchen, Madam."

She eyed him narrowly. "Hey, what did we say about this 'madam' stuff? It's Ginny, and if you can't manage that, then Virginia."

He sighed gustily. "Very well. Virginia." She noticed that every second he spent in her company he seemed to relax just slightly; his speech becoming less formal and his shoulders relaxing.

"And besides, why shouldn't I go out the front door? Is something wrong with it?"

Gareth quirked his eyebrow at her. "You are attempting to show that you have a perfect marriage, Virginia. What new bride does not have her husband attached to her hip?"

Unexpectedly, the comment stung. She knew that she hadn't married Draco for anything but politics. But the fact was that she was married. And like any woman, she wanted to be that bride who was fawned over by her new husband. Her lips pressed into a hard line, but she merely nodded curtly to Gareth. "You're right. I'll go out the kitchen." She nearly walked away, and then hesitated. For one instant, Gareth had looked so-alone. And before she realized it, she turned on her heel to face him. "Would you like to come with me?" she said impulsively.

He blinked at her in surprise. "Come with you where?"

She made an impatient gesture in the direction of the front door. "Just outside. I was going for a walk. I can't stand to be in this house anymore."

His face settled into expressionless lines, but she could feel his surprise through her empathy. Finally he said, "Very well. I'll come with you." He stepped up beside her, and almost frog-marched her down the hallway.

She pulled her arm away from his grip. "Relax," she said in amusement, slowing her pace. "We're not in a hurry."

He looked mildly surprised. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that I was going so fast."

She smiled at him lopsidedly. "Yeah, well that's because you're a thousand feet tall."

A small smile turned up one corner of his lips. Ginny watched it in fascination, because she had the feeling that this man rarely smiled. "It's because you're just short," he said, amusement liberally lacing his voice.

A moment later she processed what he had said, and laughed out loud. "Am not! I'm short compared to you!"

"What I said," he told her comfortably.

She grinned up at him as they entered the kitchen and found it blissfully empty of house-elves. "Everyone is short compared to you."

He contemplated her statement for so long that she was sure he wasn't going to answer. Finally he said thoughtfully, "I suppose you're right." This made her grin as she opened the door that led outside. She stepped quickly out onto the grass, a smile spreading as she did so.

She did a quick pirouette, then spun to turn her laughing gaze onto Gareth, who was merely standing and watching her. She made a beckoning motion with one hand as she moved backwards on the lawn. "C'mon, Gareth. Don't be a stick in the mud. Can you skip?" Her eyes teased him for his incredibly stiff manner, and he relaxed imperceptibly.

"I do not skip," he said solemnly. "I am a man. Men do not skip." She coughed to hide her chuckle.

"Is that so?" she asked him, her smile flashing brilliantly. "We'll see about that. I bet you a galleon that I can make you skip by the end of the day."

His eyes narrowed, and she could have sworn that they smiled at her, although his mouth remained in a hard and even line. "We'll see about that, my lady," he drawled, and only made her smile spread.

"So we shall," she responded cheerfully, spinning around to bounce down the small incline of the lawn in movements that reminded Gareth of nothing so much as a graceful doe.

Right until she tripped over her own feet and fell on her face.

Instinctively, he sprinted down the hill toward her, his heart hammering at the thought that she was hurt. But when he sprung to her side and crouched beside her, he could hear her muffled laughter mixed liberally with good-natured curses. When he suspiciously rolled her over, she grinned up at him. "And the good ol' Weasley clumsiness strikes again," she told him cheerfully.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I thought you were hurt!"

"Nope," she said warmly, taking the hand that he warily offered her to help her to her feet. Once standing, she brushed herself off, and ignored the grass-stains on her clothes with an ease that told him she had long practice at doing so. "I don't get hurt too easily, Gareth. I'm not breakable, you know," she told him tartly.

"You're also dirty," he muttered, still waiting for his heart rate to return to normal.

"And washable," she told him firmly. "Don't fuss. You're worse than my mother."

He gave her a deadly glare. "I am no one's mother."

"Thank God," she said, rolling her eyes expressively. "Because that's just something I don't want to envision, frankly."

He nearly opened his mouth to respond to that statement, then thought better of it. The woman was like verbal quicksand. How was Malfoy able to be married to the chit? He thought in mild annoyance as he followed her as she trotted down the hill, only slightly more cautiously after her spill.

She was like a little, red-haired whirlwind, he thought, a little dazed. Although he had seen a glimpse of her character a few nights ago in the kitchen, he could never have imagined the reality of it. Although she was gorgeous-there was no denying that-she also had a wicked sense of humor and a playfulness that surprised him. Although he knew that she had married Malfoy because of politics, he hadn't expected someone like her to be paired with someone so different than her. Where Malfoy was ice, she was fire. Where Malfoy broke the rules out of a sense of being better than the rules, she broke rules for the thrill of it. They were as different as night and day, and Gareth knew that she was utterly wasted on a git like Malfoy.

He immediately crushed that thought with a thoroughness that even surprised himself. She was Malfoy's wife. No matter what reasons for the marriage, she was legally married. And Gareth didn't touch married women. Not even women who were married to a scumbag like Draco Malfoy. His lip curled automatically at the thought of his employer.

He was abruptly jerked out of his thoughts when Ginny called for him. Sighing in resignation, he went down the hill to meet her at the bottom.

**********

From a window in the Manor, Draco watched with flinty gray eyes. He intensely disliked his wife's familiarity with his butler. No, he hated it. He wanted nothing more than to go downstairs, punch Gareth into oblivion, snatch up his wife and carry her back upstairs and make love to her. His jaw tightened as he turned away from the window. In a rare fit on conscience, he knew that he couldn't keep her from Gareth. After all, he had to go to work. If she wanted Gareth, she was going to have him either way. Just because the thought made him homicidal probably wouldn't factor into her decision. The only way that he could conceivably keep her from something she wanted would be to lock her up. And he had a feeling that Ginny would fight him to the death before that happened.

He wouldn't touch her because he didn't want her, he told himself. Let Gareth sully himself with the Weasley. They were well paired. He sneered to the empty room, but it wasn't as comforting as it usually was. Just the thought was like ashes in his mouth. He paced feverishly in an unusual display of outward emotion. Damn her! Somehow she had gotten under his skin-made him feel things that he didn't want to, and shouldn't. When he had accused her of regarding this marriage as more than political match, she had thrown it back in his face and accused him of the same. And wasn't that true? Didn't he lie awake at night, sheets wrapped around his heated body, staring at the door that separated him from her bed? Even when he finally managed to sleep, weren't his dreams filled with feverish images of her wrapped around him, her gorgeous wine-red hair spilling over his skin, licking him with flames of fire?

He swore again, only less virulently this time. He raked his hand through his hair, mussing up his perfect coif. Draco kept his back to the window, refusing to see what they were doing. He stopped in the middle of the room, struck by sudden inspiration. He had been treating Ginny as he treated all the other Weasleys-like enemies. But all the other Weasleys-excepting her mother, whom he had never met-were male. He instinctively treated women differently, no matter how much he hated them. His mother had drilled courtesy into him-especially after she had heard what he had called Granger while they were in school. She had been appalled at his lack of chivalry towards women, and had given him a scathing set-down. Coming from his quiet, serene mother, a lecture containing the thought that she was disappointed in him was enough to make him mend his ways.

He had treated Weasley as he would one of her red-haired brothers, and what woman would like to be treated as a man? And a man that he hated, at that. He had alternated between molesting her on his desk and acting like the bastard that he really was. But women didn't want to see that inner bastard, now did they? Women wanted to be wooed. And if he wanted any chance of getting the littlest Weasley out of his head and into his bed, he was going to have to woo her.

Just the thought was enough to make him curl his lip, then sigh. He was tired of losing sleep over her. He would set aside his prejudices, and hope that she would do the same. He turned to face the window again, steeling himself for whatever he saw. What he saw surprised him. Gareth was merely sitting on the hill, his arms looped around his knees and watching Ginny with something that resembled content. Ginny was a few feet away, lying on her back and staring up at the sky, talking and gesticulating animatedly.

Draco watched her for a long moment. Her features weren't clear from this distance, but he could tell that she was smiling. His lips pressed into a hard line. By Merlin, he would make her smile for him.

**********

Ginny bounded down the stairs, a smile curving her lips in anticipation. Ever since she had come to Malfoy Manor, she had started to grow very fond of Gareth. She went outside all the time, and he always insisted on accompanying her. She had eventually wheedled a friendship out of him, and found that he had a sarcastic sense of humor that made her giggle. Despite that he had relaxed in her presence, he was often silent, merely listening to her chatter. Since she sensed that he was a brooding soul-much like Draco-she never pressed him to speak to her.

The one odd thing that she had noticed about Gareth was that he never carried a wand. She didn't know if it was from personal preference or because he just didn't have one, but it had piqued her interest. She had been hesitant to say anything for fear of offending him, but a few days ago she had tentatively broached the subject on one of their daily walks.

He had been silent for so long that she was sure that he was going to ignore her impertinent question. However, he finally said quietly, "I don't have a wand. I don't know magic."

She had goggled up at him in silence. She could positively feel the magic pulse around him-he couldn't be a Squib. "Why not?" she blurted out.

"Because my stepfather didn't want me to learn," he said shortly, with a tone in his voice that said he wasn't going to talk about it further.

They had continued walking in silence while Gareth brooded and Ginny pondered. Eventually Ginny said quietly, "I could teach you, if you wanted me to. I'm no Hogwarts professor, but I'm learned enough to teach you some things. We'd have to go to Diagon Alley to buy you a wand, though."

He turned his head to face her, his eyes glittering icily. "I don't need your pity, Virginia."

She glared back at him. "Who said I pitied you? You've obviously done quite well for yourself without magic. I don't see that there's anything wrong with you."

He scowled at her, but didn't say anything. Finally he said shortly, "Very well. If it wouldn't inconvenience you, I'd like to learn some basics."

Ginny kept back her smile of triumph and instead nodded solemnly. "Very well. We'll go a few days from now to Diagon Alley and buy you a wand from Ollivanders."

He turned his face away from her. "Very well." His voice was stiff, but she could feel the tumultuous emotions running through him, so she didn't comment.

And now she was finally going to take him to Diagon Alley. She hadn't seen him this morning, which was odd. Usually he was waiting for her downstairs. Maybe he was just nervous. She smiled broadly. It was lovely to see such a self-assured, incredibly alpha man like Gareth get nervous. Assuming that he was still at his little cottage, she flung open the door and trotted cheerfully down the hill and toward his cottage in the distance.

As she walked, she glanced over her shoulder at Malfoy Manor. She loved the house. Despite that it was Draco's house, it was absolutely gorgeous. And for some reason, she felt safe there. Which was probably why she hadn't ventured far from it or its grounds since she had married Draco. She hadn't even gone to see her family, and hadn't received any owls from any of them. At first the absence of contact with them had hurt her, but she had quickly grown immersed in the little world that she was building for herself at Malfoy Manor.

Even as she had grown closer to Gareth, she had grown farther from Draco. He had started working longer and longer hours, and she rarely saw him. When she did, he was stiffly courteous to her, quickly vanishing into his own bedroom. She hadn't expected the fact that he was avoiding her to hurt so much. And yet she was a little lonely with him. Despite that she liked Gareth and his company, he never really sparred with her the way that Draco did. She often wondered if she were insane that she missed Draco Malfoy's company; but there it was.

Shaking off thoughts of her confusing husband as she reached Gareth's cottage, she rapped smartly on the door. When no one answered, she frowned. She rapped again. "Gareth?" she called. "Gareth, it's Ginny. Are you in there?"

He didn't answer, although she could have sworn that she felt his presence inside. Frowning, she tentatively tried the door and found it unlocked. She bit her lip, then pushed it open and stepped inside, her eyes flicking over the room.

The room was sparsely furnished. There was a table, a couch, and one chair. The room was also meticulously clean. Almost as if he were never inside it. Frowning, she glanced around and saw a cracked door. She stepped toward it, and gently pushed it open. Then she stared.

The room was obviously Gareth's bedroom. And unlike the living room, it showed signs of being lived in. Clothes were thrown across chairs, and she could see a razor lying across his desk. And sitting on the edge of the bed, with his head in his hands, was Gareth.

His hair was mussed, as if his hands had run through it repeatedly. She hurried to him and dropped to her knees beside him, worried. "Gareth? Gareth, are you all right?"

He raised his head to look at her, and his eyes were red-rimmed, almost as if he hadn't slept, or as if he had been weeping. But since she couldn't ever imagine Gareth crying, she opted for the former theory. "I don't know if I can go, Ginny," he said hoarsely. She barely noticed that he had called her by her shortened name.

"Why not?" she asked anxiously. "Is everything all right?"

"No," he said hoarsely, scrubbing his hands over his face. She saw that he had a five o' clock shadow-obviously he hadn't shaved yet this morning. "No, I'm not all right, Virginia. I don't think I can do this."

"But why not?" she asked him, worrying at her lip with her teeth. "You said you could, Gareth."

"I know what I said," he snapped at her, his eyes flashing down at her. A few years ago, she would have cowered before him. Now she just stared up at him challengingly, and he eventually huffed out a breath and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I don't think I can do magic," he mumbled, and had her blinking rapidly.

"What?" she asked stupidly, because she couldn't imagine that he didn't feel his own magic as strongly as she did. It fairly radiated from his skin.

"I can't do magic, ok?" he shouted at her, rising to pace. "I've always known that."

Ginny stared up at him in surprise. "Gareth," she said slowly, "I know that you can do magic. You're not a Squib."

"Oh yeah?" he asked bitterly. "How do you know? Do you have radar or something?"

"Or something," she mumbled, but when he looked sharply at her she silenced for a moment. "Look, just trust me on this, ok?"

"I can't," he said wearily. "I can't, Virginia. I've known my whole life that I can't do magic."

"Have you ever gone to try to get a wand?" Ginny asked him, her gaze steady. He dropped his eyes away from her.

"No," he muttered.

"Well then," she told him firmly. "Then you don't know or not. We'll go to Ollivanders, and if nothing happens with any of the wands, then we'll know that you can't do magic, and I'll apologize. But if something does happen, then I'll teach you how to use your magic."

"I can't!" He shouted at her, raking his hands through his hair. "Don't you understand, Ginny? My whole life I've known that I wasn't good enough, wasn't enough like my father or my mother. They were both amazing-brilliantly talented. And I was never taught, because I couldn't do it."

"Maybe you couldn't do it because you were never taught," she countered. "Magic isn't something that you can learn on your own, you know. That's why Hogwarts is around."

"I'm a bit too old to attend Hogwarts," he said coolly.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm going to teach you."

He barked out a harsh laugh. "You're going to teach me? No offense, Virginia, but you don't look like a professor to me."

"I never said I was," she said equitably. "And besides, why are we having this conversation if you don't think that you have magic? If you can't do magic, then I won't be teaching you anything. So I think that you believe somewhere inside you that you can do it."

He stared at her in silence, then gave a little laugh. "You're a menace, you know that?"

She beamed up at him. "If you want to call it that." She rose from her place on the floor, brushing off her jeans. "Now stop moping and go get ready," she ordered. "We're leaving in ten minutes."

He smiled wryly. "And aren't we bossy today?"

"I learned from the best," she said proudly, thinking of Hermione in amusement.

Gareth merely arched his brows, then shook his head in silence. He would never understand the woman. "Get ready," Ginny reminded him, then strode out into the living room, hearing the bedroom door shut firmly behind her. Only once she was sure that he was getting ready did she allow herself a sigh of relief.

When he emerged precisely ten minutes later, he was groomed and looked more presentable. He arched his eyebrows at her again. "Do I meet your standards, my lady?"

She scrutinized him, tilting her head slightly to one side. Then she winked at him, subtly teasing him after his emotional storm earlier. "You'll do," she said lightly, then turned on her heel to exit the little cottage. She hadn't moved more than a foot before he caught her elbow gently. "One moment," he murmured, and she turned to look at him, curious.

He seemed to wrinkle his nose slightly, a gesture incongruous with the rest of his character and mannerisms. Then, before her astonished eyes, his hair darkened from icy blond to the darkest black, and his eyes darkened to a warm chocolate brown. She blinked rapidly. "Gareth? What on earth?"

He opened his eyes, then smiled wryly at her. "My father was a Metamorphmagus. I got a little bit from him."

"But I thought you couldn't do magic!" She protested, still staring at him in fascination. The different coloring made him look like an entirely different person. Although she was often reminded of his resemblance to Draco, she could see no similarity between the two men now.

"Being a Metamorphmagus doesn't require a wand, even being half-Meta. It's something you're born with, and born knowing how to do. It's not magic like you do magic."

She sputtered for a moment, staring up at him. His mouth curved wryly. "I do believe this is the first time that I've seen you speechless," he said dryly. "It's an interesting phenomenon."

She scowled and slapped his shoulder lightly. "Beast," she muttered. "So, can you change your whole appearance, like Tonks?"

"Who is Tonks?"

"Oops, sorry. She's an Auror. Family friend. She's a Metamorphmagus too." And a member of the Order. But she didn't reveal the last bit of information. No matter how much she liked Gareth, he wasn't one of the Order. And that meant that Order members and business were none of his business. Although Voldemort had been defeated, the secrecy of the Order had been preserved. Voldemort's followers were still out there.

He shook his head in response to her question. "No, I can't change my whole appearance. I can just change my hair and eye color, and only to these shades. I only gained a little bit of my father's gift."

"Who was your father?" Ginny asked in blatant fascination. Metamorphmaguses were rare, and she might have heard of him.

He stiffened; obviously the topic was a sore one. "You wouldn't know him," he said stiffly, then said curtly, "Are you ready now?"

"Absolutely," she murmured. She turned and exited the cottage with Gareth on her heels, who closed the door behind them.

A sudden thought made her turn in surprise. "If you can't Apparate, then how to do you get around?"

"I usually drive a car," he said dryly. "I don't have magic, Virginia. I live like a Muggle most of the time."

Ginny's smile spread like a small sun. "Really? Oh, my father is going to love you." When she only got Gareth's blank look in return, she quickly explained, "My father loves anything to do with Muggles. I've recently started watching Muggle movies," she said enthusiastically. "They're wonderful! I don't know why Wizard movies aren't so interesting."

"Because Muggles have taken all the good ideas," Gareth said dryly, and made her laugh.

"You're probably right," she admitted. "Well then. We certainly can't drive a car to Diagon Alley, but promise me that you'll drive me later."

"If you'd like," Gareth murmured, watching her with sharp eyes.

She continued on, unaware of his close scrutiny. "Well then, I suppose that it's possible to Apparate while holding onto another person."

"I don't think we should attempt to prove your theory right now," he said hastily. "Maybe Floo powder would be a better option."

"I suppose you're right," she allowed grudgingly. She started trudging back toward the Manor, Gareth in her wake as usual.

When they reached the Manor and Ginny stepped inside. she immediately knew that Draco was home. Not just because there were dirty dishes that she hadn't used, but also because she felt his presence in the house. She bit her bottom lip, suddenly feeling her stomach flutter. She hadn't seen Draco for days. He always looked impeccable, while she was usually mussed and flushed from being outside.

She felt Gareth's warm presence at her back, but barely heeded it. She bit her lip, feeling the tug of emotion that wanted to lead her toward Draco's office. She thought briefly about hiding it, about pushing it away as she had pushed herself away from him for a week now. She had lain in bed at nights, staring at the door that separated her room from his, and wondering if she would see the knob turn as he came to her. Wondering if he would put aside his differences with her and come to her. Feeling her body weep for the touch of his. She felt as if she were addicted, as if he had injected her with some drug that made her crave the feel of his hands on her. She had cried into her pillow, cursing her traitorous body again and again. Yet none of it had made the yearning cease. And the worst was knowing that he stayed away because she had set the ultimatum-she would not be his whore. Even as she cursed her body for its longing, she cursed her hasty tongue.

Barely aware that Gareth ghosted along in her wake, she trudged through the house toward Draco's office, feeling her stomach knot with something that seemed to be a mix between fear and excitement. Surprisingly, Draco's office door was open, as if he had pushed through the door and forgotten to close it behind him. She slid against the wall so that he wouldn't see her, then stared at him where he was sitting at his desk, filling her gaze with him.

He was an absolutely gorgeous man, she thought with a sad sigh. It was too bad that he was such an arse. Her gaze swept greedily over him-over the strong shoulders, perfectly sculpted cheekbones and intent gray eyes and over the windswept blond hair. But what caught her attention was his mouth. She nearly trembled while remembering the feel of his mouth against hers. His mouth was sensual, erotic. She wanted nothing more than to trace it with her tongue, to feel it against hers again. To feel his mouth press against her heated body.

She swallowed hard and lowered her gaze to the floor, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. She was dimly aware that Gareth was hovering behind her, his sharp eyes on her face. She knew that she should feel ashamed of what she was thinking and feeling, but it was so hard. He was an obsession; a craving she couldn't get out of her blood. And he didn't want her. He had made that abundantly clear last week, as well as this week by never being at Malfoy Manor.

She sighed heavily and allowed herself one last look at him before she resolutely turned away from the door. She walked away from the office and down the hallway, forcing herself from thoughts of her husband. When she was at the opposite end of the hallway and where Draco wouldn't hear her, she said quietly, "Come on. Let's go into the parlor. That fireplace is connected to the Floo Network."

"You haven't slept with him, have you?" Gareth's voice was soft, and she spun to face him in surprise.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked him frostily, her eyes narrowing. Despite that she enjoyed Gareth's company, she hadn't known him long enough to ask such a question.

Undeterred by her death glare, he repeated himself. She stared at him for a long moment then said icily, "My private life is none of your business, Gareth."

"But mine is your business?" he countered her, his eyes glittered coolly.

"I want only to help you," she said stiffly. "To be your friend. If that displeases you, then you should go back to your little cottage, because my personal life is not for your consumption."

He stared at her in silence, then said coolly, "Very well, Lady Malfoy." He made a grand, mocking gesture for her to precede him. She strode past him, her eyes glittering fiercely. Her problems were hers, dammit. She didn't want Gareth prying into the mockery that was her marriage.

She strode into the parlor and grabbed a handful of Floo powder, then turned to face him, her body stiff with anger. "I assume that you know how to go by Floo?" she asked him coolly, and he eyed her for a moment.

"No," he said curtly. "I never have."

She didn't allow herself to show her surprise. By Merlin, she was still mad at the pompous git. "Very well," she snapped. "Grab a handful of Floo powder and step into the fireplace." He obeyed her, his spine still stiff as a board. She had to admire his posture, and idly wondered if he'd had a nanny who had concentrated solely on posture. It would certainly explain it. "Then throw down the powder and say 'Diagon Alley'. Make sure you say it very clearly."

"Yeah, I get it," he muttered. He took a deep breath, and he reminded her in that moment nothing so much as Harry when he had first traveled by Floo powder the summer before her first year at Hogwarts. Unexpectedly, the thought stung, and she winced. Hopefully he didn't end up in Knockturn Alley as Harry had.

He threw down the powder and said loudly, "Diagon Alley!" Then he vanished in a puff of green smoke.

Ginny let out a breath of relief. He had sounded as if he said it right. She started to step toward the fireplace when a soft sound from the doorway made her spin.

She caught her breath in surprise when she saw Draco leaning against the door frame. She opened her mouth to make a scathing comment before he could when she realized that he almost looked-relaxed. She had never seen him this way before, and it made her close her mouth. He sauntered into the room and stood close to her. She caught her breath at his nearness, and tilted her head up to stare at him.

"Where are you going?" he whispered to her, his eyes moving leisurely over her face.

"Diagon Alley," she told him breathlessly.

"Why?"

She hesitated, then blurted out, "To get Gareth a wand." To his credit, his only answer was the tightening of his mouth.

He lowered his head toward hers, and she caught herself holding her breath as she stared up at him. He lowered his mouth to within an inch of hers, and her lashes slid closed as his fingertips whispered over her bare arms. She shifted impatiently as he didn't touch her otherwise, and moved closer to his bigger body.

He brushed his mouth over hers, a whisper of a kiss. She unconsciously made a little pout with her lips, and felt his chest move with a silent chuckle. He kissed her again, just another tantalizing brush of lips that made her want to desperately throw him down onto a couch and ravish him. "Don't forget me while you're gone," he breathed.

"I couldn't," she blurted out, then her eyes flashed open in horror. Did I really just say that? She wondered miserably. But seeing the satisfaction in Draco's eyes, she concluded that she obviously had.

But all he said was "Good." Then he slowly released her, the withdrawal of his fingers from her skin a kind of caress in itself. She stared up at him, her pupils widened and darkened with desire.

He moved away from her and toward the door, then paused on the threshold to turn and look at her. His eyes were heavy-lidded, and she saw his pulse hammering in his throat. Obviously she wasn't the only one who had been affected. "Come back soon, ma chaton," he whispered, giving her a slow wink. Then he walked out of the room.

She let out her breath in an explosive gasp, and realized that Gareth was probably wondering where she was. She glanced down at her hand and realized that her hand had gone slack, spilling Floo powder all over the carpet. She cursed, but it lacked real feeling. She felt energized and drained all at the same time. The man was an emotional roller coaster. One she wasn't sure she wanted to ride. She blinked at her own mental pun, then laughed a little as she scraped up most of the Floo powder from the rug and went to the hearth.

Stepping inside, she smiled a little to herself. He had called her his kitten. Perhaps it was foolish to be taken in by a simple endearment, but it had made her heart do a slow roll of pleasure in her chest. And smiling to herself, she shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and threw down her Floo powder.

********

When she emerged a moment later in Diagon Alley, she was faced with an irate Gareth. "Where were you?" he snapped. "I've been waiting for you for five minutes."

She bristled, but forced back the snappish comment. She had no desire to fight with one of her only friends over something so trivial. "I got caught up," she said briefly, then glanced up at him. "Look, I don't want to fight with you. Pax?"

He stared down at her for a moment, then heaved a sigh. "I don't know why I put up with you," he grumbled, and she flashed him a bright smile.

"Because you adore me," she sang gaily, then tugged him out the front door. Gareth glanced around Diagon Alley, blinking rapidly. When Ginny saw his obvious shock, she stared up at him in surprise. "Have you never been to Diagon Alley at all?" she asked incredulously.

"You're a bright one, Weasley."

"Don't huff," she told him tartly, then grinned. "Well this is going to be a lot more fun than I imagined. I'll have to give you the grand tour."

He shot her a wary look. "Will I survive it?"

"Indubitably," she said cheerfully. "I'll make sure of it. First let's go to Ollivanders. That's why we're here, after all."

She led Gareth down the street, excitedly pointing things out to him while he did his best not to gawk like a child. Finally they came to a battered building with an equally battered sign that read Ollivanders in a scrawling, unruly script. Gareth hesitated at the doorway, but with a firm look, Ginny pulled him inside.

There was a mother and her child there already. Ginny held Gareth back with a gentle touch on his arm, and they hung back around the doorway. Gareth glanced around the dusty building that looked nothing more than a library with small wand boxes instead of books. He forced down another flare of nervousness, and felt the tension creeping between his shoulders and up his neck. Ginny glanced over at him, and could see his shoulders tightening up. A well of compassion shook her, and she smiled sadly to herself before she laid her hand very gently on his forearm. At once she felt his tension ease from his body, drained away from his muscles and into hers.

Gareth glanced down at her in mild surprise, but before he could speak a grizzled old man handed a slim wand to the boy ahead of them. "Go ahead," he said gruffly to the boy. "Give it a swish."

Obediently, the boy did so, and red sparks promptly shot out of the end of the wand. They richocheted off a mirror, and sped toward Gareth and Ginny. Gareth barely had time to blink before he was pulling Ginny down, and the sparks shot harmlessly over their heads. He straightened up with a snap, a snarl on his lips. Ginny could have been hurt by the stupid child! But Ginny wrapped her fingers around his larger wrist and stood on her toes to whisper in his ear. "Shush. Don't get all huffy. It happens."

"You could have been hurt," he hissed at her.

She smiled crookedly at him. "Part and parcel," she told him quietly, as she saw the boy blush hard. She offered him a reassuring smile, and the mother glanced over at her shoulder at her with a relieved look. A moment later her eyes widened as she recognized Ginny.

"Harry, stay with Mr.Ollivander," she whispered to her son, then quickly moved the small distance that separated her from Ginny and Gareth. "You're Ginny Malfoy, aren't you?" she whispered excitedly as she neared Ginny.

Ginny blinked at her. "Yes," she said slowly. "May I help you?"

The woman waved that away impatiently. "No, no. I'm just so surprised to see you! And without your husband, too! I saw the Daily Prophet, after all. Your husband is simply divine, Mrs.Malfoy. However do you stand to be married to such a gorgeous man?"

Despite herself, Ginny nearly bristled. It shouldn't have mattered that the woman was all but drooling over Draco to Draco's wife. It shouldn't have mattered. And yet it did. It mattered a great deal. "I somehow manage," she said frigidly, her eyes gone hard in a look that Draco had grudgingly learned to respect.

The woman looked taken aback, then a crimson blush crawled over her cheekbones. "Oh goodness! I'm so terribly sorry. How rude of me. I sincerely apologize, Mrs.Malfoy!"

Seeing that the woman was actually contrite, some of the ice thawed from Ginny's expression. "No harm done," she said mildly, although her voice still held the hint of a warning bite. Then she winked at the woman, just to show that there were no hard feelings. "Truth be told, it is rather a trial to have a husband that's more beautiful than you."

The woman giggled. "I don't know about that one, Mrs.Malfoy. You're rather beautiful yourself."

Ginny blinked at her in response, then laughed outright. "Oh my. That's definitely a new one." When the woman only blinked at her in confusion, Ginny decided to let the issue drop. Obviously the woman didn't have eyes. Ginny was the same freckled, red-haired Weasley she had been when she had first started Hogwarts. Granted, she had breasts and legs now and was significantly taller, but there wasn't much difference.

Ginny shot a glance toward the woman's son, who was miserably trying another wand. When she glanced up at Gareth, she saw that he was alternating between shifting his wary attention from mother to son. She had to suppress her smile. He obviously wasn't sure who was the bigger threat. She turned her attention back to the woman. "I'm so sorry," she apologized. "I didn't catch your name."

"Not at all," the woman said hurriedly. "I'm Melissa Blackpole. An offshoot of the Finnigans, actually."

Ginny's eyes lit up brilliantly. "Are you really? Oh goodness! You're related to Seamus?"

Melissa smiled back at her. "Why, yes. He's my cousin. Are you friends with Seamus?"

Ginny smiled, her eyes softening magically. "I am indeed. He's been a good friend to me." Her smile went brighter. "I'm very pleased to meet you, then. Any family of Seamus's is always welcome in my home, if you've a yen to visit me."

Melissa blinked rapidly. "Malfoy Manor?" she stammered, and had Ginny's brow creasing in confusion.

"Yes," she said slowly. "Of course. Why? Is there something wrong with Malfoy Manor?"

"Well-honestly-it's just that…."

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Yes?" she said slowly.

Melissa stammered for another moment before Gareth butted in and said flatly, "She's afraid to go to Malfoy Manor, Virginia. It's not the nicest place."

"There is nothing wrong with the Manor!" Ginny protested in a knee-jerk reaction. "It's a lovely house."
"Oh, aye, the house is," Gareth mumbled under his breath, and earned a hard elbow in the ribs from Ginny. He grunted softly and gave her a dirty glare before turning his wary gaze back to poor Harry, who still hadn't found himself an appropriate wand. Mr.Ollivander was starting to look distinctly frazzled, and Harry looked on the verge of tears.

Ginny looked at Melissa, who also looked upset that she had already offended the new Lady Malfoy. Ginny bolstered her shields, then took Melissa's hands. She felt the quick jolt that she always felt when touching someone unknown to her, but Melissa's emotions didn't swamp hers, due to her shields. "I promise you that Malfoy Manor is a lovely place," she said firmly. "I'd like to invite you to dinner sometime."

Melissa gnawed anxiously on her lip. "I suppose so," she said slowly. Just then Harry called excitedly, "Mum! Mum! Look, I found my wand!"

With a brief apologetic look to Ginny, Melissa turned on her heel and hurried to her son to praise him. She paid Mr.Ollivander and thanked him profusely then hustled her son out the front door. She gave Ginny a quick look as she passed her, then she was gone. Ginny blinked, her mouth hanging open in shock. The woman had very nearly snubbed her!

She was drawn unceremoniously from her thoughts when Mr.Ollivander stepped up to them. "Well now, Miss Weasley," he said briskly. "Broken another wand, have you? You Weasleys are the worst at such things."

Ginny very nearly rolled her eyes. "No, sir. My wand actually isn't broken. My friend needs to get a wand."

Ollivander made a noncommittal sound and sized up Gareth with his eyes. "I don't ever remember seeing you."

"That's because I've never been here before," Gareth said coolly, and Ginny had the satisfaction of seeing the inscrutable Mr.Ollivander look surprised.

"Well then," he mused. "That is a quandary." He skimmed his gaze over Gareth one more time, then mumbled, "I think I might have something." Then he vanished into the stacks.

Gareth let out a heavy breath, and even with her shields strong Ginny could feel his heart hammering. She laid her hand on his arm again to soothe. "Calm down," she said softly. "You're going to be wonderful. And you're going to owe me a Galleon."

"What for?" he asked, scowling down at her and momentarily distracted from his worrying, which had been her aim.

She grinned engagingly up at him. "I daresay that you'll skip for me when we leave here. And then you'll owe me a Galleon."

"I do not skip," he muttered mutinously, but was secretly pleased when he saw her smile flash again.

Before she could answer him, Mr.Ollivander returned, holding a slim black box. "Try this one," he said briskly, opening the lid to reveal a slender wand of light cherry. Hesitantly, Gareth reached into the box and withdrew the wand, holding it awkwardly. "Come come," Mr.Ollivander said impatiently. "Go on. Give it a swish."

Gareth took an unsteady breath, then awkwardly obeyed. Nothing happened. Gareth's face fell, and Ginny saw his crushed expression before he quickly hid it. But obviously Mr.Ollivander's eyes were just as quick as Ginny's. "No need to be disappointed, dear boy," Mr.Ollivander said briskly. "Quite frankly, I prefer that reaction from the wands. Much better than poor Mr.Blackpole's. I don't fancy having to repair my shop every night." He took the wand from Gareth and replaced it in its box, then vanished into the stacks again.

Gareth turned to face Ginny, a panicky look on his face. Ginny considered a mark of his trust in her that he let her see the emotion. "Ginny, I can't do this." His voice sounded strangled, and his eyes were wild. "I can't."

Ginny knew instinctively that a kind word would only make him angry. So she said firmly, "Yes you can, Gareth. Now sit tight. Mr.Ollivander will be back in a moment. It took me five wand tries to find mine. Or my original one, anyway. I've had a few of them since then."

Gareth barely noticed her little speech. He had just taken a step toward the door when Mr.Ollivander was back, lips pursed in thought. "Here now," Mr.Ollivander said quickly. "Try this one, Mr.McAvoy."

Gareth stiffened, and Ginny blurted out, "What?"

Ollivander glanced between them, then glanced back at Gareth, who looked as if he would have liked to wring Mr.Ollivander's scrawny neck. "You haven't told her who you are?" Mr.Ollivander asked him, arching one eyebrow.

"No, I haven't," Gareth said coldly. He glanced over at Ginny, who looked surprised.

"McAvoy?" she mused. "That name sounds very familiar."

"We'll discuss it when we get home," Gareth said shortly, and Ginny clamped her mouth shut obediently. A moment later she wondered at herself. She had taken his directive without protest. She considered making a fuss, then discarded the idea. If Gareth didn't want to talk about his past here, that was his prerogative.

Ollivander offered the wand to Gareth, who took it irritably and swished it. A second later a stream of red and gold sparks shot out of the end in a shower of brilliance. Gareth nearly leaped back from it, then halted himself. Through the shower of sparks, Ginny smiled mistily as she saw his face alive with wonder and awe.

"Very interesting," Mr.Ollivander mumbled. "A powerful wand, to be sure. Eleven inches, blackwood with a dragon heartstring. Very good at charms."

"What does that mean?" Gareth asked uncertainly. He seemed to have forgotten his pique with Ollivander for the moment. He looked like a child for a moment, his face so unsure and the edges of a triumphant smile curling his lips.

"It means, Mr.McAvoy, that you have a very powerful wand," Ollivander repeated. "A strong wand for a strong wizard." He nodded, almost as if to himself. "We'll see great things out of you, Mr.McAvoy." Then he took the wand quickly from Gareth and put it back in his box, then wrapped it in brown paper. "Seven Galleons," he said briskly, and before a dazed Gareth could move, Ginny had already paid him.

She shot Mr.Ollivander a grateful look, who merely smiled vaguely at her before she pulled an unresisting Gareth out of the store. "I have magic," Gareth said blankly. "I never thought I did."

"I did," Ginny murmured, watching him. Seeing him so off balance and so happy made her heart warm. I could love you, she thought unexpectedly. She immediately shook away the thought. She did not love anyone. Loving was painful, and she wanted no part of it. She was much more comfortable with the lust that she felt for Draco. But seeing Gareth so happy and dazed made her happy. Maybe it would be all right to love him as a brother, Ginny mused. Like Harry. After all, she had gotten over her crush with Harry. Couldn't she do the same with Gareth?

She tugged on his hand, and he followed her docilely. They hadn't gotten more than a few feet before he was around in front of her. He seized her unexpectedly and twirled her and twirled her with an abandon that made her clutch at him. She let out a little shriek of surprise, which he only laughed joyfully at. Once he had twirled her around, he clutched her close, almost crushing her ribs. "Thank you," he said hoarsely. "Gods, thank you, Ginny."

She felt tears sting her eyes. She was pressed against him, and she could feel his overwhelming gratitude and happiness as if it were her own. "You're welcome," she whispered against the muscle of his shoulder, and he squeezed her tighter for a moment, then released her and gently set her back on her feet.

She pushed her niggling concerns about his name away, then linked her arm through his. "Come on," she said with a smile. "Let me show you around."

He nodded eagerly, a child's enthusiasm shining out of his normally unfathomable eyes. Now that he knew that he could do magic, he seemed almost as if some overwhelming care had been dropped from his shoulders. He eagerly tugged her down the street, and Ginny allowed herself one private smile before she started to tell him about Flourish and Blotts.