Chapter Seven: La Coeur A Ses Raisons (The Heart Has Its Reasons)
"Do sit down, Ginevre. It's wearying just to watch you," drawled Malfoy.
Ginevre gave him a small smile, but went on tidying the cozy little cave where she was sheltering Malfoy. The last few days had been eye-opening for her. She was discovering the real Jean 'le Dragon' de Malfoy, and he was very different than his public self. For one thing, Malfoy had moral qualms. He was uneasy about his place in Vol de Mort's following. He awkwardly told her about how much the thought of killing scared him.
"I thought it'd be easy," he said. "I thought I'd go up that tower and kill the Intendant without a thought. But when I got there, I found I couldn't. I just couldn't do it."
"That's your conscience speaking, my boy," said Ginevre cheerfully. "Treasure it." She was privately wondering now whether to turn him in to the king's officials after all. If he were turning over a new leaf, no purpose would be served by his death but revenge. And vengeance, as Ginevre now reminded herself, was a sin.
"If you were to leave New France and start a new life," she said carefully, sweeping up the dust on the floor of the cave. "Where would you go?"
"Why are you asking?" said Malfoy, his grey eyes looking amused.
"I am trying to form a proper idea of your character. You vex me considerably, Malfoy. At times, you show a flash of virtue, but you're also arrogant, deceitful, unjust, malicious, and annoying."
"Mon dieu, Ginevre. You make me out to be a monster!"
"You also take the Lord's name in vain."
"I'll try not to, if you'd like. Now, do sit down. You're making me dizzy."
Ginevre flopped down where she stood.
He wagged his finger at her. "Beside me, Ginevre. So we may talk."
"You know very well the impropriety of that suggestion," she snapped back.
"I won't to report you to the village priest, if that's what you're thinking. And I see no other witnesses."
Ginevre gave him a small smile. "All right, Monsieur Malfoy. But you had better have something worthwhile to say."
"I do," he said, making room on the bed of leaves and moss for her to sit. "Suppose I decided to mend my ways? Would you then turn me over to the king's officials?"
"It would depend if I could be certain you had mended your ways," she replied slowly.
"Ah, I see. Tell me, Ginevre, what could I do to convince you of my change of heart?"
Ginevre screwed up her brow. Nothing came to mind. And yet, there must be something.
"Very well, let me help you out of this dilemma. Would the old Malfoy have done this?" He suddenly pulled her to him, kissing her lips with frightening passion. "Well, Ginevre?"
She stayed stock still in his arms, her heart beating like a tom-tom. Unable to say a word, unable to move.
"In the old days, I would have laughed to think I might come to love a Véslée," he said silkily. "And yet here we are."
"It is a pity you love me," she forced herself to say. "For I love Henri."
"Love me instead," he commanded her. "I'm so much more interesting."
"You are a devil in man's form."
"So much more interesting," he repeated, and kissed her again. This time, she returned the kiss, surprising herself.
"I have wealth in New York," he continued quietly. "I have only to get there, and all will be well. With you at my side, that is. If you're not mine, I do not think I would care to live."
"You're talking nonsense, Malfoy! I have already signed the marriage contract. My parents would never approve you as my husband."
"I don't propose to tell them," he said, his grey eyes strangely bright. "Give me your hand, Ginevre. And all the rest of your delightful body and soul. We will go away to the English colonies and never bother with these wars again."
"How do I know you shall keep your promise?"
"You know in your heart that I am yours. Does your heart lie?"
"I must go away and think on this," she began weakly. "I must…" She faltered, and said nothing more of leaving.
End Notes:
And so is Ginevre's virtue conquered. Dreadful behaviour on her part, but what woman could withstand Malfoy? She should watch out. He may not be so honest in his recent change of heart.
For some unknown reason, my last chapter attracted a couple of flamers, who told me my story was crap and it belonged on ff.net, not Portkey. It's all right if people don't like my fic. I know it won't be to everyone's taste. But why do they think they're smarter than the Portkey mods, who accepted my fic, and other reviewers who like it? I think they're ticked off that this is an AU, because their outrage seemed directed at me twisting the Potterverse. But other reviewers in the past have been ticked off that this isn't really accurate historical fiction, with real French names rather than Potterverse variants. Eh, it's meant to be fun, not a history lesson. Do you think movies like Last of the Mohicans, Gladiator, or Braveheart are accurate? Well, they aren't. And neither is this story a realistic treatment of French Canadian history and naming practices.