Author's Notes: Many thanks to everyone for reading and the wonderful reviews. This chapter was written while listening to too much Keith Urban. No, I don't listen to country music - just Keith. And no, this really doesn't have anything to do with anything. -fallenwitch
Chapter 8
Bewitched
When Draco opened his eyes, he refused to get out of bed and face his day. Instead, he threw his sheets over his head and shut out the reality of his increasingly dangerous existence, the one that harkened back to the War and days he would rather forget.
Where the hell was a Time Turner when you needed one? Yes, he would go back, all the way back to the day of his birthday party. He would forbid Ginny to go to that fiasco of a Quidditch dinner at Blaise's, and that would be that. On second thought, he would also Obliviate her out of Blaise's memory and abscond with her somewhere safe, away from her past and his present.
Groaning, he sank further behind his wall of sheets. No, he wasn't wizard enough to go all the way back to the night of that damned game of Wizard Chess with its drunken bet and magical contract. He wouldn't erase her out of his life altogether. Maybe in another two weeks or two months he would feel differently. Maybe then he would wish he could erase everything, but today wasn't that day.
An undetermined amount of tortured time later, Draco pulled those pseudoprotective sheets off his head and hauled his reluctant Malfoy arse out of bed to start to his day. No, he didn't have breakfast. Instead, he Apparated straight to the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
If he ate anything, he was afraid it would blow out during his meeting there. That was the effect she had on him, the other witch he was bound to, this one by blood and an Unbreakable Vow. She made him sick to his stomach. No, it wasn't his vow. It was hers, given in a fit of guilt to his mother before her unexpected death.
"Come, Draco," she barked.
He silently fell in step behind her, walking down the long corridor in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was dressed in his finest black robes and boots with no evidence of the previous night's sleep deprivation. They turned a corner and entered her office. He closed the door.
"Sit," she commanded.
He sat his irritated Malfoy arse down. What was he? A fucking dog? Bossy black-haired bint.
She glanced over at him and snapped her brittle fingers, signaling her assistant, who scurried in bearing a tray with tea and biscuits. He took the cup she held out for him and studied it. Was he nauseous? No, not yet.
"Thank you."
"The Bulgarian Ambassador will be here tomorrow," she announced. "You have something they want and believe belongs to them." She set her cup down and continued, "You will bring the girl here, and I will supervise her return."
"No," he said softly, between sips of hot tea.
"Fine. You hand her over yourself, but I recommend considerable assistance. Alexandar Levski can't be trusted."
When he merely stared at her without responding, a tense silence fell between the two. He set his cup down, and her eyes narrowed as she studied him.
"I see," she crooned softly. "You would have us shelter an assassin for the Order?" When he didn't react, she went on, "Whatever she may have led you to believe, she is an assassin trained by the Order to kill us. It's that simple, Draco." She stood. "Hand her over, and this will all go away. It will be as though she never existed, and I will forget about your indiscretion."
"I will not release her." He stood. She looked up with the crook of her nose inches from his, scrutinizing him before laughing with contempt in his unflinching face.
"She's bewitched you, boy. Bewitched you by the oldest magic known to our kind." Running her eyes up and down his calm figure in disgust, she shook her head. "That girl is nothing more than Muggle-sucking, pureblooded trash, Draco. She's not fit to lick your boots much less other parts of your anatomy. You shelter her, and she'll bite you. Do you hear me?"
"Yes."
Letting out a sigh, she put her cool hand on Draco's cheek. "She's incapable of loving our kind, Draco. Watch yourself. Your Uncle and I will begin negotiations with the Bulgarians when they arrive tomorrow. That will give you an extra day or two to come to your senses. Have your fill of her and be done with it. I cannot have your blood on my hands. Your mother loved you. Taking up with this trash is a poor way to honor her memory."
"I understand, Aunt Bella. Thank you." Draco went to his Aunt and kissed her on both cheeks. Yes, now he was queasy and ready to blow the breakfast he didn't eat. Touching the foul hag did it every goddamn time.
"Go now," she hissed, dismissing him and watching out of the corner of her eye as he walked out of the room. Did the boy share Cissy's weakness? Was he also prone to fatal attachments of the heart? No, she wasn't bound to save his life. She was only bound to protect him as best she could. If that meant the elimination of the unnecessary trash he had attached himself to, then so be it.
----- ----- -----
The next time he saw her, she was armed and dangerous and thoroughly unamused. Peering into her sitting room, he watched her stand on an oversized wooden block while one of his elves scampered around, altering the white gossamer silk wedding robes he had purchased for her. Her back was to him, and he saw her right hand wrapped tightly around the wand she had refused the night before. She was tapping it against her leg, emitting the occasional angry spark out of its tip.
He stepped inside and dismissed the elf with a wave of his hand. Ginny turned her head and saw Draco staring at her gown as he paced a slow, observant circle around her before stopping and holding out his hand for her. Refusing his outstretched hand, she stepped off the block.
Was she exquisite? Of course she was. Did he say anything to her about that? No, he did not.
"These are for you," he said, taking two boxes out of his robes. "It is traditional for the bride in the family you are marrying into to wear these." When she glared at him, he sighed. "Look, I'm not going to hold a wand to your head and make you wear these. Wear them or don't. It's up to you." He didn't give a damn what she wore. The whole charade was about saving her neck not decorating it.
To his surprise, she took the heavy wooden boxes from him and opened their brass-hinged lids. Then she stared at the treasured jewels for several minutes before closing the lids again.
"If you'd like something else, let me know, and I'll make sure you have whatever you want." When she glanced at the boxes again, he touched her hand. "Those are yours to keep either way."
"He's a wealthy wizard?"
"Yes."
"A pureblood?"
"Of course."
She paused and looked up at him.
"Is he a Death Eater?" Draco sighed.
"Does it matter?"
"Is he a Death Eater?"
"Yes, he's a bloody Death Eater."
That's when she walked out on him, taking her boxes with her.
----- ----- -----
Good lord, was she decompensating from the stress? That evening, he stared at his agitated house elf, talking too fast and pointing toward Ginny's bedroom. Draco raced down the hall with his alarmed house elf in tow, skidding to a halt just outside her door. Peering inside, he saw her on her knees, arguing with a stubborn Malfoy house elf, holding his terrified ground as trained. Shit. Not only had she lost it, but she was also over the edge raving mad. They were freckled nose to elf nose when he ripped them apart.
"Merlin, Ginny, what's wrong?" he asked, hauling the flush and angry witch to her feet while giving a dismissive nod to both skittish elves.
"My things, Draco," she spat out, one hand on her hip. Then she pointed to the nonexistent house elf, the one who had already scampered out of the room. "He won't give me my things."
"He doesn't have your things."
"What?" she gasped. "He promised me I'd have them in hand by tonight." Draco shook his head and put a steadying hand on her shoulder.
"We couldn't get your things. I sent Sam and Frank back to the flat, but the wards had been tampered with. It's too dangerous to go in there right now." She threw both hands up in the air and let out an exasperated groan.
"What am I supposed to do? I need my winter cloak and my books and my THINGS!" Draco could hear the escalating panic in her raised voice.
"Calm down, Ginny. Make a list of everything you need, and I'll replace it all." She shook her head, frustrated tears brimming her furious eyes.
"You don't understand. I need MY things, not just bloody things, Draco. Merlin, how can I leave tomorrow without them?" She paused a moment, looked up at him, and withdrew her wand. "Let me go in and get my things. It'll only take a few minutes."
"Are you bloody nutters? Absolutely not." If Frank and Sam weren't safe in there, he sure as hell wasn't sending her ruddy arse in alone. He didn't give a damn if the stress of her upcoming marriage was impairing her ability to think and behave in a rational fashion.
"I'll take Sam and Frank with me."
"No," he growled while attempting to stare the unstable witch down. "Go on, wave that wand all you want. You know you can't Apparate out of the Manor."
Letting out an infuriated groan, Ginny threw her useless wand on the floor and sank, dejected bum first, down the side of her bed and onto the hard, wooden floor. Then she hung her miserable head in her hands. That's when Draco saw the empty, oversized knapsack on her bed with one or two of her personal items beside it. Sighing, he knelt in front of the frustrated witch.
"Look, Ginny," he said gently to her hanging head, "after we're married, I'll send a squadron of Death Eaters in to get whatever you want but not now. It's too dangerous." Her head rose, one slow crimson inch at a time, until she was looking him straight in the eyes.
"What?"
"I'll get your things after we're married, not now." Her dark eyes began searching his face.
"Married?"
"As my wife, you'll have all the protection and resources that go with the Malfoy name. That's more than any other wizard can offer you." Why the hell was she staring at him like that? Had he sprouted horns since he last looked in the mirror? A moment or two later, Ginny's face fell.
"Oh dear god."
No, this wasn't the reaction Draco had hoped for nor the one he expected his future wife would give him one day, but he had just told the witch he was going to marry her, and there was no going back. He should have held his breath before diving in, but he didn't. Instead, he dove in, heart first, like the idiot he had never been before.
"I love you, Ginny, for whatever that's worth, and I know you're not without feelings for me. I'll do my best to make you happy. And I'll care for you and protect you until my last dying breath."
Well?
He waited, and while he waited, his lungs filled up, drowning the Slytherin in his own stupidity. When she said nothing, when she continued to stare at him with her wide, dark eyes, his heart sank. No, he didn't expect her to love him. In fact, he knew all along that she didn't love him, but he had hoped. And despite setting his Malfoy expectations as low as they could go, her reaction - mute with horror - really wasn't what he had in mind when he declared his undying love for her.
What the hell? Since he was already up to his infamous neck in it, he decided to wade in all the way. Drown him. Choke him. Beat him. And watch him come back for more. Fumbling in his cloak pocket, Draco pulled out the box that had been burning a hole in his overpriced robes. What, exactly, was the etiquette in this situation? He decided there was no etiquette for ordering a witch to marry you. You simply ordered her arse to.
"This is for you. If you don't fancy it and want something different, I'll replace it with whatever you want. But I'd appreciate it if you'd wear it." She watched as he took her hand and slipped the elegant engagement ring on her finger.
She was still staring at that ring when he leaned over and kissed her stunned lips. No, this wasn't one of the passionate kisses they had shared the night before. It wasn't even a distant cousin. This was Draco placing his lovesick lips against hers, hoping for the response that never came. When that glorious failure was over, he wrapped his aching arms around his reluctant bride-to-be and held her for a moment before bidding her goodnight.
-->