Hesperides' Apple
Chapter 10-Preparing Halloween
October, 1998
Autumn was brought by chilly winds, and with it came frequent rains and leaves like red flowers. The Malfoy domain, shrouded in vivid copper and gold, appeared carved out of many rubies. Ginny spent an increasing amount of time in the forest, from which she would come back in the evening, smelling like humid bark and pebbles. Draco liked the way her skin felt after those excursions, cool like the outside air, pulsing with the life that was progressively seeping out of the trees and into the soil. Convinced at last by Narcissa, Ginny had abandoned her caring of the outside garden, leaving the elves to tend the plants under the drizzly rain.
When Draco, having spent the morning at work, returned home at noon, he found his wife and mother deep in conversation. Around them, the greenhouse's glass walls rose like walls of ice, and every parcel of space was occupied by leaves, flowers, and viridian tentacles. The rich smell of tropical flowers wafted everywhere, diluted by water's scent.
"-unlike orchids, cannot be bred by-" Narcissa was saying.
"Hello, Mother, Ginevra," he interrupted them.
"Good afternoon, dear," Narcissa said fondly. Ginny had the feeling she was growing increasingly tender toward her son, and even her daughter-in-law, as if they gave her solace from her solitude. "I suppose you're here to take Ginevra to the MCCD?"
"The MC-" Ginny began, uncomprehending. "Oh no, I forgot! Draco, I'm sorry." She lifted uncertain eyes to him. His face betrayed no emotion, and he knew she hated that, but this incertitude of hers had to be maintained in order for him to keep the upper hand in their relationship. He really didn't care that she was late. "I'll be ready in a few seconds."
Ginny got up, taking her gardening gloves off. As she walked past Draco, his hand snaked around her waist, and he pulled her to him. His gray eyes as expressionless as molten steel, he peered into her honey-colored eyes, delighting in the chaos that coursed there. She tried to pull away. He dipped his head lower until their foreheads met, and her eyes widened. Then, smirking at last, he softly wiped a smudge of dirt off her nose. Her face broke into a relieved grin, and she hurried away.
"You're falling for her," Narcissa said neutrally, clipping the brown tip of an orchid's leaf.
"She's my wife. Whether or not I `fall for her', like you put it, is irrelevant."
"Not quite. It merely proves that it was a good idea to call on Hesperides' Apple to send you a suitable bride. And apparently, she's more than suitable. I haven't seen you looking at a girl like that since you were six and-"
"And Father had to explain to me I couldn't marry Magdalene Rosi because she was a Mudblood. Yes, Mother, I remember."
"You know, since the new Laws of Blood Purity were issued, I've come to question the whole concept more and more."
Draco gave her a startled look.
"Yes, I know," she countered his mute objection. "But it's undeniable that the Wizarding World isn't doing as well as it used to before-"
"It hasn't even been a year," Draco explained patiently. "And before that, there was Voldemort." Her face blanched at the mention of the name. "Periods of chaos can only be dealt with strict laws. You know this, Mother. How else would the Black and Malfoy lines have endured? We had become too large a community. Dilution of power and resources were leading to the vulgarization of magic. We had to control those, somehow, if only to reestablish some order. Blood purity was just something most ancient families agreed to; it was providential."
"But we are dying out. And weakening! You know how many Squib children are born these days-"
"I've got my idea about that," he said as footsteps were heard down the stairs, "thanks to Ginevra, in fact. But think about it this way, if you will: you prune your trees; we just pruned society."
Narcissa gave her son a dark look. He grinned and kissed her on the cheek.
"I'm ready," Ginny said.
She wore yellow robes, so dark they could have been orange. They flared at the elbows and were tied below the breast by a string of ivy. Her hair was rolled in a bun by another branch of ivy, and from her ears hung two pumpkins the color of her dress.
"Oh, pumpkin, you shouldn't have," Draco said snidely.
"It's not for you," she hissed. "The children will be celebrating Halloween, as they call it, and you're lucky I'm not asking you to dress up as a frog." He looked about to retort something. "Not that it would change much. Narcissa, I don't think we'll be back for dinner, so have a nice evening."
She dragged Draco out of the room. He looked back, and Narcissa placed her hands on an imaginary round belly, giving him a questioning glance. When they climbed in the carriage, Draco looked subtly at his wife, but soon realized that the illusion of a pregnancy was caused by the empire-cut of her robes. He berated himself for thinking otherwise, having seen her perform the contraception spell a good dozen times since their wedding-night.
"Do you know what frogs do to pumpkins?" Draco asked Ginny in a low, menacing voice.
"They hop around them?" she offered.
"No," he said, his mouth getting dangerously close to her neck. "They eat them."
He bit softly into the dense flesh of her neck, running his teeth down her jugular vein. Goosebumps spiked her warm skin. She tilted her head to the side, eyes closed, her lips parted, giving him full access to her throat and loving it. As his kisses roughened and threatened to leave bruises, she pulled his head toward her face and murmured, "We don't want the kids thinking that the pumpkin has been attacked by bugs, do we?"
"Not bugs, frogs," he replied, about to continue his downward exploration.
Ginny laughed, but she firmly kept his head away from her neckline. He settled for her lips instead, manipulating her so that she ended up flat on the carriage seat with Draco on top of her. She had one foot on his coccyx, and was about to use the second one to pull him down, when the carriage stopped.
"Next time I finance a project, I will make sure it is within reasonable distance of Malfoy Manor," Draco groaned.
Ginny flattened her hands against his chest longingly. I'm only getting rid of the wrinkles, she uncertainly convinced herself. She sat up, made sure her hair and dress were in place, then stepped out of the carriage, charming along a series of enormous floating pumpkins. Draco, who hadn't seen them atop their vehicle, sighed resignedly. They headed directly for the back of the MCCD, where a dark forest of brambles had been grown for the occasion. Ginny looked mildly deflated by the sight of Romilda Nott and Vivian Silverspring.
"I invited Shehzin," Draco murmured into her ear, "but she's still in Dhaka, trying to convince her family that Blaise is good for her."
Ginny looked forlorn.
"You can come with me, if you want; I have to talk to Angela."
The look on Ginny's face convinced him that she would rather endure the other two gossips than Lucius Malfoy's ex-mistress. Draco planted a firm kiss on her mouth and vanished into the MCCD. The large marble corridors shone with the startlingly clear light so typical of fall and winter. He found Bjork in her office, clad in immaculate white robes.
"Hello, Angela," he called from the waiting room.
"Mister Malfoy, do come in," she answered. "It's been a while."
"I was busy," he said flatly.
"With that charming wife of yours? She's been spending quite some time here," she added conspiratorially.
"I know. And apparently her healing methods are working better than yours. Care to explain?"
Angela Bjork looked noticeably uncomfortable. She uncrossed her legs and placed glasses on her nose. Draco stared at her unwaveringly. She pulled out a thick folder.
"Here are the files of our patients. Mrs. Malfoy has been caring particularly for a certain number of pupils, such as Lorelei Prewett, Eve Hopkins, and Elias Carlysle. Though it is true that these children are doing particularly well, the results are by no means permanent."
Draco's raised eyebrow encouraged her to continue.
"We recently welcomed Leo Lestrange back into our midst," Bjork said proudly.
She was right, Draco thought, remembering their bet. He fought hard not to smile.
"I fail to perceive why this should make you happy," Draco said coldly. "How are the other children doing? Those that my wife does not take care of."
"They're improving," Bjork said earnestly, "but not enough. Their spurts of magic are extremely erratic, often triggered by life-endangering situations."
That had been part of Lucius Malfoy's theory. Forcing the magic out of its envelope, as he used to say. Draco remembered Ginny's horror when he had implied that the children weren't being well fed to spur their anger and, possibly, magical skills. The words "life-endangering situations", however, rang strangely off-key to his ear. He was not long to make a decision.
"Angela, I would like you to stop these life-endangering situations. Pick a few children at random, enough to obtain convincing statistical data from, and tell the nurses to be particularly caring with them. If you run out of ideas, ask Ginevra. Base your treatment of these sample-children on the way she handles her proteges, then get back to me with the results."
Angela Bjork, used to the Malfoy's concise orders, nodded.
Meanwhile, faced with the inappropriateness of running away, Ginny had accosted Romilda and Vivian. The two women were charming pumpkins and scare-crows to come alive, then dispatching them toward different areas of the maze.
"Ginevra," Romilda said when she saw her, "I just adore your dress. And those earrings are absolutely delicious!"
"Yes, well, I thought I'd wear radishes first, but I figured pumpkins were more adequate," Ginny said innocently, remembering all too well how Romilda had made fun of Luna Lovegood ever since her arrival at Hogwarts.
"Radishes? That certainly would have looked silly," a rich, silky voice commented.
They turned to see Blaise Zabini and Serafina at his arm. The witch eyed Ginny disparagingly, giving a particularly distasteful glance to her earrings.
"Vivian, Romilda," Blaise acknowledged the witches. "Ginevra, as usual, classiness and appropriateness incarnated. Where is your husband, love?"
Serafina, clearly surprised by her brother's familiarity with Lady Malfoy, gave him a dark look. Ginny pointed to the main building of the MCCD. Blaise, after a quick peck on Serafina's cheek, was gone in a heartbeat. The young woman turned to Romilda.
"So, how can I help?"
Romilda, surprised to hear Serafina offering to help, was speechless. Vivian, on the other hand, went right to the point, having understood that the Zabinis' daughter would not have people knowing how much more generous and helpful Ginevra was when compared to her.
"Since when do you help, Serafina?"
"Since the job needs to be done, and well done," Serafina retorted, flashing Vivian a feline smile.
"In that case, perhaps you should ask Ginevra. She's here more often, this celebration was her idea, and we've been following her suggestions."
Serafina turned to Ginny expectantly, without deigning to ask for her expertise, however.
"The afternoon is going to be dedicated to the children," Ginny explained mechanically. "They'll go through the maze, meeting different creatures, and will have to accomplish a number of custom-made tasks. Hopefully, the excitement of the game will encourage them to use magic. If not, it's still an enriching experience-they'll get to use their mind, creativity, capacity to dream, and so forth."
"Where do we come into play?" Serafina asked.
"That's up to you. Some of us will be tailing the kids so as to make sure they're fine; others will prepare the reward."
"Which is?"
"You know, I really wish you had gotten into this earlier, that way we wouldn't be wasting our time trying to explain this to you," Vivian said rather sharply. Serafina glared at her.
"Now, now, no need to get into a fight," Romilda interrupted. "Vivian, come with me, we'll go tell the fairies what they have to do. Serafina, Ginevra, see you in a bit." She dragged Vivian away.
"Halloween is just a modern variation of the ancient Celtic celebration of Samhain," Ginevra explained to an impatient looking Serafina. "That night, the souls of the departed were thought to roam the Earth, and Muggles would extinguish their fires and try to appear as ugly as possible so as not to attract the ghosts' concupiscence. As wizards, however-"
"We welcome the spirits. Yes, I remember. Why would the children care?"
"Power," Ginny snapped, annoyed at the other woman's defiance and interruptions. "The ghosts and spirits of the departed are a source of power, though not acknowledged by many families today. That's the reward. Maybe it will help the children get a feel for what raw magical power is like."
"I never celebrated Samhain or Halloween," Serafina said snidely.
"I wouldn't have expected you to," Ginny said. "It's also a time to mourn your dead," she added somberly. "At least, in that regard, you are lucky to have been spared. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some things to take care of. Why don't you go find Romilda and Vivian and finish preparing the maze? I'll get the kids and explain everything to them."
Without waiting for an answer, Ginny wheeled around and made her way toward the building. Serafina, her dark eyes filled with resentment, wondered to which extent her beloved's wife had not been spared the casualties which her own family had avoided. Without a second's hesitation, she followed Ginevra into the children's quarters.
Blaise had caught up with Draco in the lobby, and they had embraced amidst the pompous luminosity of marbles and mirrors.
"I need to talk to you," were Blaise's first, rather urgent words after his greetings.
Draco did not need to be told twice. He was used to his friends' plots and secrets, and knew better than to discuss those in such a public setting. He directed Blaise to what appeared to be a classroom. Rows of desks and chairs faced a long blackboard, and there were books in every corner. Draco leaned casually on the teacher's desk while Blaise took a seat on one of the students' tables.
"Good enough?" Draco asked.
"It will do," Blaise said. "I have a favor to ask from you."
Draco's eyes narrowed. Favors were infrequent amongst wizards, as they entailed a debt not easy to erase. Blaise asking for a favor rather than help meant that he wanted something very, very desperately. He nodded.
"Shehzin is being held hostage by her family in Dhaka. They evidently do not want her to marry someone who isn't of her clan, much less of another country. I would try to go there and get her myself, but I don't want to expose her to further danger. You are influential enough to convince them that I am worthy of their expectations, or exert pressure until they give her up if need be. Do this for me, Draco, and I will be in your debt."
"Wizard's debt?" Draco asked, testing and warning his friend.
"Wizard's debt," Blaise repeated. His gaze didn't flinch.
"Agreed," Draco said. There was a flash of black light during which were revealed other's bones, muscles, veins all drenched with magic. Then everything was back to normal. "Give me a few days and she will be yours."
Blaise didn't thank his friend. He knew he would have to pay him back, and he had a faint idea on how, exactly, he would do that.
"On a completely different topic, but just as important," Blaise began. Draco looked at him questioningly. "I don't want to alarm you with women's gossip or insult your wi-"
"What about her?" Draco snapped, eyeing Blaise fiercely.
"You know how she attends all those events, tea parties, charity luncheons, and expositions with Pansy, Vivian, Cecilia-"
"Yes. So?"
"Well, Serafina is usually there as well. And she-" He hesitated "-she says that Ginevra has been, uh-"
"Get on with it," Draco growled.
"Implying things. About you."
"What sorts of things?"
"Oh, you know, all sorts of things." Draco glared at him. "Negative things. Like the fact that it's weird that Lucius would die so soon after the end of the war. That it suited you rather well, what with the inherited money, title, and all. Or the fact that you were involved with those Ministers, the ones who got in trouble for-"
"Rosier, Gamp, and Burke?" Draco remembered from one of his discussions with Ginevra.
"Yes, those are the ones. Now, you know me, and you know Serafina; I wasn't too keen on paying attention to her words. But the thing is that, ever since, I've been paying attention to what she says and does. She gets along with everyone. She doesn't take much place in conversations, but her remarks are always pertinent and often veiled. Do you talk to her about your work?"
"A little bit," Draco conceded, "but I doubt she follows much. It's rather complex."
"Well, next time you have that kind of discussion with her, or in front of her, watch her. At the dinner where I introduced Shehzin, she was listening to our conversation. Trust me, she understood perfectly well what we were saying. And it isn't the first time, either. Because you won't let her alone for a second during business dinners-"
"I don't like it when my partners try to chat her up," Draco said coldly.
"Exactly. That's why she's always with you, and she can hear everything that's said. Now, tell me, since when have your affairs not been doing so well?"
"Ginevra has nothing to do with my affairs," Draco said, his voice menacing.
"Look, I know you don't want to hear this, but maybe you're too-"
"Infatuated? Blind? Careless?" Draco chuckled mirthlessly, then continued, "I've seen those looks. I have seen her angry and scared for apparently no reason. She nearly went berserk when Wood got hurt; almost called him Oliver, in fact. Oh, and I intercepted one of her letters to someone I do not know."
Blaise eyed his friend uncertainly. Draco's voice was now sharp and cold, his features particularly emotionless, but his eyes predatory.
"She's used Contraceptio more times than I can count, without ever, ever broaching the topic," Draco continued. Use of the contraception spell was a touchy subject in the British wizarding world; it was a decision for couples to make, and usually frowned upon when one chose to cast it without informing the other. So Blaise frowned. "I don't know what she's doing, but I can tell she's up to something. Ginevra is a subtle and intelligent person, but she hasn't been a Slytherin for six years. I just need to find out-"He paused, gave Blaise a sharp glance, and understanding what his friend expected from him, complied. "Wizard's debt. I will help free Shehzin, but you must figure out what my wife is plotting. Whether it is against me, my family, or nothing at all, I want to know."
"And then?" Blaise added, non-commitally.
Draco smirked and shook his head.
"And then, nothing. She's my wife."
"You like her," Blaise said.
"Yes, that is usually preferable when one gets married to a woman."
Blaise looked at Draco, leaning against the desk, the perfect image of nobility and composure. He prayed to no one in particular that he may find Ginevra innocent. As it was, Lord Malfoy appeared to care for her too much to let her go, and enough that he would make her pay dearly for her warranting such an affection. Blaise shuddered. Draco nonchalantly clapped him in the back, and they made their way back to the garden.
Ginny had reached the room where the children were having a hard time studying. News of the celebration and feast had reached their alert ears, though their ignorance concerning the tradition prevented them from knowing what to expect. Angela Bjork had been complaining all week long, however, so the children knew Ginny was partly responsible and were all the more eager to discover what was in store for them. Some parents had agreed to come while others, uninterested, had contented themselves with authorizing their children to participate.
When Ginny walked into the large solarium in which the MCCD's pupils worked, a buzzing murmur spread like fire. She smiled brightly at them, the pumpkins dangling from her ears as she accessed the center platform. A swish of her wand magnified her voice.
"Hello, everyone," she began. The children were silent, having been trained early to listen quietly to adults or expect a thrashing. "Drop your quills and gather around; I have a story to tell you. As you have no doubt heard, we're having a celebration tonight. Some know it as Halloween, but wizards who firmly believe in this night's power refer to it as Samhain."
"When the dead people come out!" peeped a young boy.
"Indeed. When the souls of the dead are free to roam the earth from midnight `til dawn. Now, tell me, and tell me honestly, who here is afraid of death?"
A few children raised their hands, but the others remained stone-faced. Their families had been depleted by the war, and they had learned to withstand loss stoically. Some of their parents daily threatened them of torture and death, though they knew better than to take them seriously-about death, that is.
"Death is harder to bear for those who live than for those who experience it. For the latter it is a transition from our world to another, or perhaps from our world to nothing, but for the former, it entails the absence of a loved one. Often, losing someone is so hard to bear because you wish you had had more time to tell them how much you cared for them, how proud you were of their achievements, how lucky you were to have grown up with them. Wizards, unlike most Muggles, understand this, and that is why fears of Samhain have long been banished. Those who are scared, tonight will, of course, have a choice to remain by the fires-it is a secret to no one that death fears light-but I strongly encourage you to stand by the pentacles and watch."
"Watch what?" a raven-haired girl asked.
"Watch as we summon the ghosts and ask them to give us some of their power."
Their eyes were huge with hope and envy. Power was a word they understood, a word that meant a lot, if not everything, to their family, but something that they cruelly lacked.
"Before all of this, however, we are going to have… a treasure hunt!"
Sparkles danced in the pupils' eyes, though they did not give in to excitement by laughing or clapping. Ginny remembered her and her brothers' enthusiasm whenever such an event was proposed; they would run around, squealing and pushing each other, thrilled beyond measure at the idea of having a treasure hunt. Such comportments were clearly not encouraged in aristocratic or norm-conforming pure-blood families.
"One hour before sunset, you will get to enter the maze. You will have your wands, of course." The children appeared mildly deflated, understanding that this was just another trick. "Though you are by no means forced to use them. The creatures you will meet are not vindictive." Seeing their blank looks, she amended, "Not hurtful. They won't try to harm you. They will, however, ask you to answer some riddles, or require you to perform certain tasks, but those require more imagination and intelligence than actual magical skills-and I, at least, am convinced that you lack neither. When you reach the center of the maze, you will be able to claim your reward. Now, don't misunderstand me; this isn't on first-come, first-serve basis. You all have a reward waiting for you, so feel free to help each other, and no back-stabbing, please. If you get scared, or need help-" Some of the older kids scoffed. "-we will be patrolling, and you may call on us. Do try to do this on your own, however. I promise it will be fun and very rewarding, beyond the actual prize."
They sat still, looking at her, waiting for the signal. Their obedience always startled her.
"Clean up your things, put everything back into place, and when you're done, go outside. Ladies Nott, Silverspring, and Zabini will tell you where to start."
Immediately, the room rang with noise of books snapping shut, papers being shuffled into folders, ink and quills being stowed away. Ginny walked around, helping when she could, patting Rebecca's shoulder and ruffling Samson's hair as she walked past them. She found Lorelei Prewett struggling to place a book on its shelf, orange braids dangling at the back of her head as her hand extended toward the shelf. Ginny smiled.
"Here, Lorelei, let me take care of that," she said, taking the book from the little girl's grasp and putting it back where it belonged. Most of the kids were already gone. "Are you ready to go?"
The little girl nodded and held her hand out expectantly. Ginny took it, touched by her distant cousin's soft enthusiasm. Though Lorelei was never one of the loudest participants in the games she played, she brought along a harmonious energy everywhere she went. They slowly made their way toward the garden.
"I made a button fly, yesterday," the girl said quietly.
"Good job!" Ginny exclaimed. "I'm very proud of you. Did you tell your mother yet?" Lorelei's father, Edward, was constantly traveling, and her mother, Holda, found little time to spend with her daughter. She was, however, extremely demanding. More than once, Ginny had found Lorelei in tears because her mother found her progress with magic too slow.
"No. She said not to contact her until my magic was constant, and it isn't."
"You know," Ginny said as they arrived to the garden, "I'm sure your mother is a great person, and you must obey and respect her whenever you can. But my father used to be fascinated with Muggle inventions, and some of my best-friends were half-bloods, and they were the greatest people you could ever meet. Not being magical is not a flaw."
"Maybe where you come from," Lorelei said sullenly.
"Can you keep a secret?" Ginny asked, lowering her voice. Lorelei nodded. "I used to live here, in Great Britain. I even attended Hogwarts for a while, back in the days when it wasn't closed off to non-pure-blood children. The wizarding community then wasn't as narrow-minded as it has become since the fall of You-Know-Who. I don't think it's a problem of where you live, but of who you live with." Neither of them noticed Serafina Zabini, concealed in the columns' shadow. "Do not be ashamed of who you are. And don't let anyone, not even your mum or Mrs. Bjork, make you doubt that you are a loveable person, with or without magic."
The little redhead looked up to Ginny and gave her a smile. Ginny returned it, feeling cheerless; it was the same smile she had given people after her ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets, the reassuring grin that could fend off considerate adults, but not a child's nightmares. They joined the group of children clustered around Ladies Nott, Silverspring, Goyle and Parkinson. Serafina Zabini showed up soon afterward, a dark fire dancing in her pupils.
Before them stood the high walls of bramble, a wide gate opened in its center. Enormous fireflies floated slowly above the labyrinth, waiting for dusk to illuminate the alleys. Excitement was visible on the children's faces. Draco and Blaise arrived, shortly followed by Angela Bjork and her staff.
"Children," Angela Bjork said, "prepare your wands. You have until midnight to reach the center of the maze, though if you are in any way capable, it should not take you that much time. Now go."
Cautiously, one of the youngest boys walked under the gate. The elder children, unwilling to pass off as cowards, imitated him, and soon, all the pupils rushed into the labyrinth. Angela Bjork gestured to her staff; the lime-green and canary yellow clad wizards followed the children.
"They will never make it intact," Serafina Zabini snorted.
Angela Bjork looked like she couldn't agree more, but a glance at Draco Malfoy's face prevented her from commenting any further. His eyes had flicked toward Serafina in the most demeaning way, quickly dismissing her as not even worthy of his attention. Ginevra Malfoy, protective as ever of the children which she came more and more to refer to as "hers", was stills staring at the maze's entrance when Serafina's comment brought her out of her reverie.
"Make no mistake, Zabini," she said calmly, hissing the woman's name like an insult. "Not only will they emerge intact, but matured and happy. That's more than anyone could ever say about you."
Serafina's eyes flared with outrage as she turned to Lady Malfoy, her hands clenched into fists. Draco, Blaise, and Vivian Silverspring watched with interest. The other women, uncertain of what to do, just stood there.
"Now you little-" Serafina began, reaching for her wand.
Ginny stared at her hard.
"Oh, come on now, we are not at Hogwarts anymore," she snapped. "Surely you know how to deal with frustration better than by pulling out your wand? And I don't mean by slapping me or pulling my hair, which is about as much as you could manage, I'm afraid." Serafina's flawless skin was marred by lines of anger. "If you want to talk about this problem you obviously have with me, we can definitely grab lunch some day; it's not as though either of us lacks time, what with the vapid existence we're leading," Ginny continued, not paying much attention to her words. Blaise and Draco's eyes narrowed similarly. "However, right now, we have a feast to prepare, and possibly some children to take care of. I think that on the night of Samhain, the dead give us enough preoccupations that I do not feel like dealing with the living."
She nodded curtly to an astonished Serafina, then made her way into the labyrinth before any of the spectators could say anything.
"Temper, temper," Pansy Parkinson observed, not altogether malevolently. It appeared that Ginny wasn't the only one resenting Serafina Zabini for her excessive jealousy.
Draco watched his wife disappear into the maze of brambles and fought the urge to smile. How long had it been since Serafina Zabini had been put back in her place? It was also the first time he saw Ginevra losing her temper, and he was proud of her poise and pitiless calm. Now, if only he could remember why the way she had pronounced Zabini was so familiar to him…. He looked at Blaise who, making no effort to defend his sister, appeared lost in thought. When he lifted his eyes, they shared a look of understanding. Blaise was repaying his debt.
"Fina bella," Blaise purred, walking decidedly toward his sister and enveloping her in a hug. "You should know better than to anger a Malfoy."
"But she isn't a M…" she began to retort as Blaise dragged her away.
"Ladies," Draco said, "would you mind overseeing the preparations while I try to ascertain that my wife isn't being devoured by one of the creatures we let loose in that maze?"
"Pixies, at the very most," Romilda commented, a smile on her lips, as she witnessed what could almost pass for concern from Lord Malfoy. He didn't acknowledge her and walked away casually, leaving behind four bewitched, young women.
"Since when did his shoulders get so large?" Romilda asked in a dreamy voice.
"When Lucius was imprisoned," Pansy Parkinson answered flatly. "It finally struck him that he would have to become Lord Malfoy, and he could hardly have imposed himself with those narrow shoulders of his."
"Spells? Potions?" Millicent Goyle asked. Incredulity rolled in her voice.
"Training," Vivian Silverspring answered knowingly. "He acquired a particular taste for fighting, that summer. You should have seen him attacking those mock-gladiators. Watching him, I was glad I wasn't one of them. The after-effects were nice though," she added.
Pansy and Romilda shared a knowing look. His body was one of the rare things Draco shared-and even then, only to a certain extent-but he certainly knew how to do it well.
"Do you think that his father really die-" Romilda began.
"Don't be ridiculous," Pansy Parkinson snapped. "Of course it was natural."
"Draco would never do such a thing," Vivian Silverspring corroborated serenely.
Neither looked particularly convinced, but they knew better than to broach the topic. They headed for the center of the labyrinth.
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