16. A happy couple
December, 1998
Zabini Estate, England.
"All I want to understand, Blaise, is why you were so eager to find out her identity, and now that you are pretty much a hundred percent sure about it, you don't tell Draco. It can't be so bad that if he really cares for her, he won't forgive her."
"You can't understand… As stupid as it is, their families have hated each other for years. She's up to no good, and Draco has enough sense to know it. If I don't tell him, my oath is worthless-" He shuddered at the thought. "-but if I do tell him, some unsuspecting fisherman might find the cadaver of Lady Malfoy in his nets pretty soon."
"Don't be so dramatic."
"You don't know Draco."
"From what I've seen, he's composed, well-educated, and would never stain his hands with his wife's blood."
"Like I said. He's proved he could do it before."
Shehzin lifted her head from where it rested on the pillow. Blaise's body appeared particularly dark against the snake formed by the intertwined sheets. Shehzin, lying next to him, was all curves and softness like a peach.
"He's killed his wife before?"
Blaise tenderly stroked her forehead.
"No, silly. He proved that he was more ruthless than we expected. More conniving. Basically, more than a little rich, spoiled brat."
"So you're not going to tell him."
"Not yet, no. I wish there was a way I could warn her, but I owe Draco much more."
"Let's just hope he doesn't find out too soon, then."
"Knowing him, he's already got a plan set in motion, and what I tell him will only increase his eagerness to make her cross herself."
"So how did her prove he was more than a daddy's boy?" Shehzin asked.
Blaise pulled her close to him and didn't answer.
***
Malfoy Manor, England.
Ginny watched as Narcissa buried the seeds she had received for Christmas in milk-saturated, shredded silk. They were in the greenhouse that shone green and blue in the light of glass-and-plant-diffused winter.
"The first seedlings should come out in a about a week," Ginny explained.
"I can't wait to see what they are," Narcissa said, a glimmer of curiosity shining in her eyes. She wasn't accustomed to being surprised, and much less feeling happy about it, but her recovery had left her with an appetite for life she hadn't experienced since Lucius' death.
Ginny nodded gently, smiling in a somewhat strained manner. There were dark circles rimming her eyes and she felt tired, trapped. Draco had left for a three-day long seminar a few days after their return, leaving Ginny to deal with the weight of her discovery. A spell had rapidly confirmed her husband's suspicions, thereby fulfilling her worst fear. She had sent a frantic note to Hermione but had yet to hear from the witch who, she expected, was spending Christmas with her family and did not wish to be bothered by anything, magical or otherwise.
What went wrong? She asked herself, not for the first time, as Narcissa delicately attacked one of her orchids' pistils with a scalpel. Hermione said that spell was foolproof, and I always, always, cast it. Damn the Prewett fertility!
She was, however, beyond actively resenting her ancestry for facilitating an embryo's occupation of her womb. There were few things, other than Harry Potter and the death of Voldemort, that she had ever wanted as much as revenge against Draco Malfoy, but one of these things was a child. The one she now bore put her in a very precarious situation.
"But Mummy, where is Daddy?" "Daddy is no longer here because Mummy drove him to suicide in an attempt to punish him for murdering Grandma and Grandpa and all your uncles and unborn cousins." Dear Merlin, there is no way I can have that baby and stick to the plan. I have to go see Hermione. She'll know what to do.
"Are you listening, dear?"
"Huh? I'm sorry, I was lost in thought," Ginny said, snapping out of her reverie.
"Of course," Narcissa said, and flashed her a beatific smile. "I used to do that when I was pregnant with Draco." Ginny winced. "Do you think I should mix the Terpsichore orchid with Mallowsweet or Mandrakes?"
"I suppose you could get singing Mandrakes… That's definitely an alluring idea."
"It is, isn't it?" Narcissa beamed. "Though you shouldn't be in the room when I do it, because Mandrake seeds radiate ultrasounds and I'm not sure that would be good for the baby."
Ginny grimaced as pleasantly as possible but nodded.
"You know, I was thinking," Narcissa went on as Ginny wrapped the shawl Narcissa had offered her around her shoulders. "You should take a week off to rest, maybe after Blaise and that young woman's wedding. This…" She made a fluttery gesture with the hand that didn't hold the spade. "This life isn't particularly becoming for a pregnant woman." Ginny tried not to snigger, wondering what Narcissa would have thought of Molly's hectic existence as a mother. "Besides, Draco is a dear, but he is sometimes hard to live with. And what with you having the baby, he's been fussing and worrying so much, and I'm not sure it's good for you."
Ginny raised an eyebrow. Draco fussing and worrying? He certainly didn't let it on much, leaving for his usual seminars and taking her to business dinners as he always had, though there were moments when she caught a soft glance directed to her belly. Somehow the thought of Draco as an attentive father was infinitely more worrisome than that of a lover, or husband-you could get away from those, whereas the father of your child remained the father of your child. Ginny sighed, sensing a new wave of conflicting emotions lapping her mind, and shut them out, then walked out of the room. Narcissa cast her a loving glance, then drew an incision in the Mandrake roots.
***
Diagon Alley, London.
Draco slammed his fists on the desk and glared darkly at the goblin facing him.
"So what you mean to tell me is that you won't reveal what Lady Malfoy-my wife-came here to do?"
"Yes, Lord Malfoy, that is precisely what I mean to tell you."
"You do understand, of course, that our vaults make up twenty percent of Gringotts' capital-"
"Seventeen point three percent, actually, as of recent incidents."
Draco placidly acknowledged the blow.
"-and that you are not willing to disclose what my own wife was doing in my vault?"
"Please, don't misunderstand me, Lord Malfoy. She did not visit your vault."
That revelation came like a cold shower upon Draco's shoulders. If Ginevra came, as he had been told, from a poor, Bulgarian family, there was no way she could have obtained an account here at Gringotts.
But did she ever actually say she was from a Bulgarian family?
He would have to ask Narcissa about that, though he had the increasing feeling that Ginevra didn't lie outright-she just let people assume things that weren't true. The goblin eyed him levelly, apparently used to such outbursts from his clients.
"Very well," Draco snapped. "Know that your lack of, ah-cooperation will be remembered."
"I have no doubt it will, Lord Malfoy," the goblin said, nodding, nonplussed.
Draco stormed out of the cabinet, seething. He paused in the empty corridor to organize his thoughts and regain his composure. Once the impassible mask of condescension and nobility had been slipped into place, he started heading for the exit. A small, black, and gnarled figure appeared at his side.
"Lord Malfoy," it wheezed, "I accompanied Lady Malfoy to the two vaults."
Draco kept walking, knowing that the goblin would look for anonymity in the crowd if he was about to disclose a secret. He cast him a quick glance and found himself peering into Virgryph's alert, blue eyes.
"I'm listening."
Virgryph remained silent, and Draco fought not to lunge at him, pin him against a well, and extort the information from him right there and then.
"What are your terms?" he gritted out.
"A dragon to guard my savings."
"Done."
"The Potter and Weasley vaults."
And with that, the black goblin was gone. Draco walked on, though the two names given to him rang in his head like death bells. The fact that he had grown up scorning them and trying to shame and defeat their bearers was nothing compared to the bottomless guilt he associated with the latter. "The ancient and pure-blooded Weasley family, eradicated by a single Death-Eater attack!" "Potter mourns: his adoptive family little more than a pile of smoking ashes." Draco could recite a dozen more titles, though none was gruesome enough to properly assess what had been done that night. "Potter and Weasley", "Potter and Weasley"… Why was there something missing?
Granger! Surely I couldn't have married-no, the spells would have traced her filthy blood. Draco felt an insignificant relief course through him. And the wedding ceremony would have dispelled a Polyjuice Potion's effects. But if she isn't Granger, then who else could have access to those vaults?
Draco stepped out of Gringotts, more determined than ever to unmask Ginevra, now convinced as Blaise had been that she had been meddling with his affairs. Beyond the anger and additional proof of her double-sidedness caused him, the revelation that from the beginning she had been fooling him, acting and lying as he fell for her, instilled emptiness and cold in his every fiber.
***
Zabini Estate, England.
The Zabini estate sprawled before the guests' eyes, coated with a thick layer of snow. The fir trees' branches and arches of ice leading to the manor were heavy with white crystals. Night had just fallen, adding to the silver of snow that of stars and the crisp blue of winter nights. Ginny pushed back the fur hat from her eyes and gazed in wonderment at Shehzin's new home. Draco, at her side, led her toward the manor, smirking at how plainly emotions showed on her face.
"Draco, Ginevra, thank you for coming," Catalina Zabini greeted them at the door. She wore a golden dress that fit her like a glove, and she did not look her age at all.
Behind her, Horst and Serafina were greeting the Prewetts; Serafina gave Ginny a look of condensed hatred, which she ignored, marveling at how immature the young woman was. She peered around, looking for familiar and friendly faces, but wasn't surprised to get a glimpse of Pansy Parkinson, Vivian Silverspring, and Georgiana Diggory having a chat. Not feeling like walking over, she clung to Draco.
"Stay with me?" she asked.
He was surprised by her request and nodded imperceptibly. As they walked around the room and were accosted by different wizards, they remained together rather than heading off toward their distinct groups of friends or partners. They ran into Telemacchus Clearwater and Padma Patil, who expressed repeated enthusiasm in having them over for dinner. Penelope Clearwater walked over and, having introduced herself, added her supplications to her brother's without a second look for Ginny. It was this that prompted Ginny to accept the invitation, as she realized at last that if Neville hadn't recognized her without Hermione's confession, and that Oliver Wood still hadn't figured out who she was, then few people would claim that she was the supposedly dead Ginny Weasley.
At last, the guests were ushered to the garden, where an altar and circles of chairs had been placed. Above them rose ice stalagmites, forming, as in a cathedral, a frail and shining cone of light. Draco and Ginny were placed in the first row, next to the Zabini family. At the other side of the isle sat Shehzin's parents and siblings, looking dignified and somewhat happier than could have been expected from their first reaction to the wedding. Blaise stood by the altar, beaming, though a twitch at the corner of his lips revealed how nervous he was. Conversations dimmed when a mellifluous music floated in the air. Shehzin made her appearance and, very slowly, began to walk down the alley.
Ginny was amazed at how stunningly beautiful the witch looked in white. Her dress was, of course, a work of art to itself, and yet it would have been little more than white silk on anyone but Shehzin. She, too, smiled that generous and bubbling smile of hers that made her look edible. Draco observed the scene, remembering how he had made it possible, and knowing full well the price the happy couple would have to pay for their being here, together, that night. A glance to Ginny's ecstatic smile made him feel weak in the knees, and he hated himself for that.
"Welcome, wizards and witches, to the celebration of the union between Blaise Zabini and Shehzin Mohammad," began the minister in a quaking voice.
The guests braced themselves for the long lecture, finding solace in perusal of the happy couple. Ginny let her mind wander.
"Oh come on, Harry," Ginny laughs. "Do you want to wait for marriage or something?"
Lying atop her naked body, he smiles wistfully. He lets his hand drift in her auburn hair.
"It's just that I can't make you any promises…"
From the trees around them floats the music and laughter of Bill's wedding. Sometimes a flash of warm light pierces into the clearing where Harry and Ginny have found refuge.
"I don't want any promises," she retorts, calmly. "In times like these, we can't cling on to words. Only actions matter. And whatever happens to either of us when your quest for the Horcruxes resumes, I want this to help us remember what we are, what we were to each other."
Harry looks into her eyes of amber and honey, so strong and soft at the same time. His determined, little Ginny, asking for what she wants and bent on obtaining it, regardless of the consequences. He nods, feeling relieved in his mind by her understanding of the situation, and in his body for her offering what he has longed for ever since their first kiss.
They resume their kissing, her arms wrapping around his narrow but muscular shoulders, his hands hungrily kneading her flesh. She responds to him easily as the pleasure churning in her dictates the adequate movements. He groans, cradled in her hips, and slips into her.
"Oh," she says, her mouth open in surprise, her eyes wide with the sudden and sharp pain.
Harry stops moving.
"It's okay," he murmurs, and she nods, but when he pushes again, the pain is like a razor blade driven through her stomach. "Shhhhhh," Harry says. "Look at me."
Ginny opens the eyes she closed when it began to hurt. Somehow she feels like if she closes her eyes very tightly, everything will go faster. She wants this, but she wants this to be over.
"Trust me," he says, peering meaningfully into her eyes.
He rotates his hips slowly, easing himself into her as gently as his body permits him, this body that longs to push and plunge like a haywire machine. The sensation of her, warm and tight around him, goes beyond what he could ever imagine. He sees her face relax and the absence of tears. When he thrusts into her again, she makes no sound, her face blank and neutral.
"Are you okay?"
Ginny nods again and smiles awkwardly, in a way she hopes will encourage him to go on. Though there is no pleasure, there is no longer pain, just the novel and interesting sensation of him inside her. Relieved to see that he doesn't hurt anymore, Harry gives free reign to his impulsions and thrusts wildly into her. Mechanically he pumps, in and out, in and out, tac tac tac, and when he collapses atop her, she remembers that Muggle thing Arthur had shown her once. A typewriter. Her first time with a man-with Harry, no less-felt deceptively like screwing a typewriter.
"Nuptaligo," pronounced the minister, and Blaise and Shehzin's wands gleamed from the silver membrane uniting them. "I now pronounce you husband and wife."
Applause rose from the crowd. In a second, Blaise had cast away Shehzin's veil and kissed her passionately. Clapping and laughing like a girl, Ginny watched their intense embrace, and in a moment of spontaneity, turned to Draco, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him as if it they were the newlyweds. Surprised, he quickly chased away the turbulent thoughts coiling in his mind to give in to his wife's demanding lips. Serafina Zabini glared at them malevolently, though most of the wizards surrounding them cared little for such a public display of affection and began casting flowers of snow above Blaise and Shehzin as they walked up the aisle.
At dinner, the Malfoys were welcomed at the main table. Ginny sat across Shehzin and Draco across Blaise, in a clear mark of distinction, but whereas the women exchanged enthusiastic words with each other and their neighbors, Draco remained unusually silent and granted Blaise a few meaningful glances. Both men cast their wives equally secretive and tender looks, though in Draco's eyes lurked darker thoughts. At last dinner came to an end. Draco, seeing Ginny deep in a conversation with Shehzin and Pansy, motioned to Blaise. They headed off toward the silver-lit garden.
"Potter and Weasley," Draco growled.
Blaise managed to place a surprised look on his stony features. He could not afford to let Draco figure out he already knew Ginevra Malfoy's identity.
"What?"
"The vaults she visited were the Potter and Weasley vaults. Now, since she is supposed to come from a poor Bulgarian family, I fail to perceive how in the world she could have gotten access to those. Care to enlighten me?"
Blaise quickly weighed the pros and cons, eventually deciding that Draco seemed too angry still for him to disclose the entire truth. If only he could hold off a few additional weeks, long enough for Draco to realize to which extent Ginevra had become a part of his life he was now trying to renounce.
"Look, mate," he said, peering calmly in Draco's burning eyes, "all I know is that she apparently sponsors Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and knows Neville Longbottom rather well."
A muscle in Draco's jaw twitched and his lips pressed against each other into a thin line.
Wrong thing to say, Blaise belatedly realized.
"Is that so?" Draco asked coldly.
"Not in that way," Blaise said. In any other situation, he would have been amused by Draco's paranoia, but as it was, it might quickly become dangerous for Ginevra. "They're friends."
"Oh," was all that came out from Draco's mouth, along with a venomous glare.
"Look, I need a little bit more time," Blaise said at last. "I've asked Oliver Wood and he couldn't tell me who she was." -Looked at me like I was crazy and poisonous, then nearly kicked me out of his apartment, in fact- "So maybe she'll end up by betraying herself-"
"I told her she was pregnant."
"You told her she was-she's pregnant? Congratulations," Blaise said, relieved by what he thought to be a distraction and genuinely happy for his friend. Though Malfoy had never expressed particular interest in children, the possibility of Ginevra's bearing an heir would come as good news to many wizards in England.
"Thank you," Draco retorted, sounding anything but grateful. "I want you to have her followed at all times. Given how she took the news, she's bound to do something stupid soon."
"Oh. She wasn't happy?"
Draco laughed mirthlessly.
"She's been using Contraceptio, remember? I'd say getting pregnant was on her `Not-to-do' list, along with `get along with Serafina' and `actually care for Draco'."
Blaise easily caught the bitterness in his voice. Though it didn't surprise him, as he had had many occasions to witness Draco's attachment to his wife, Lord Malfoy's implied confession made him appear more vulnerable than Blaise had seen him since the end of their fifth year. Even Lucius' death had met with a stone-hearted and reasonable Draco.
"Just because she isn't who you thought she was doesn't mean she doesn't care for you."
"I'd say that her going freely from Potter's to the Weasleys' vault is a pretty good indicator of the fact that she's planning nothing good."
There was such steel and harshness in Draco's words that Blaise could only nod. He and Shehzin would have to find a way to make both Ginevra and Draco come to terms-and soon. They made their way back toward the party, where champagne flowed and laughter was growing increasingly loud. Blaise went to join Shehzin in making small talk with the Wizarding aristocracy. Draco eventually found Ginny sitting on the balcony's banister, peering at the frozen grounds, lost in thought. She had excused herself from a conversation following Pansy's particularly disparaging remark toward Muggle-borns, a remark she felt she could not counter with sufficient aloofness and had, therefore chosen to shun. Her shoulders and bare arms emerged from the caramel dress she wore, looking round and plump like a ripe fruit. Draco walked over to Ginny and placed his warm hands on her shoulders.
"Feeling lonely?" he asked.
"Not anymore."
The effortlessness with which her answer came lacerated Draco's restraint. Torn between what he now knew about her and how she behaved with him, he couldn't help but feel that she must have been a marvelous actress to respond so spontaneously to him. And yet, as he well knew, wizards with an agenda or ulterior motives could easily become actors.
"Do you want to go home?" Draco offered, attributing to her condition the need for rest-he would never have suggested they leave so early otherwise.
"Not really," Ginny answered dreamily. "I'm just… not in the mood for parties, I suppose. And the noise, the movement, the warmth-they're making me uncomfortable, I don't know why."
Draco thought for a few seconds and then, unexpectedly-
"Do you want to go for a walk?"
She turned to him, her eyes filled with the surrounding light and looking more like silver than gold. A serene smile crept on her lips.
"That's a great idea." She looked at her stilettos and dress. "But I doubt I'm equipped for such an occasion."
Draco eyed her disdainfully, then, with an elegant wave of his wand, transfigured her shoes into fur-lined boots and her dress into skin-tight pants and a sweater. A similar gesture adapted his clothes for a walk in the snow. He lifted an eyebrow at her look of disbelief.
"So, are we going, or do you plan on waiting for Hell to freeze?"
"No, no," she said, laughing, "it's cold enough as it is. Come, before people see us."
Grabbing his hand, she pulled him toward one of the garden's lesser lit alleys. She giggled musically, and Draco felt oddly proud to have snatched her from her gloomy musings. The path they chose was barely wide enough to accommodate two people, and the snow on its borders reached knee-height. Right and left, fir trees stretched their scented branches toward their faces. Draco patiently pushed each branch back to let Ginny advance. They walked on in silence, the brushing of the wind in the trees slowly smothering noises from the party.
"Are you warm enough?" Draco asked.
Ginny nodded but huddled closer to him. A few moments later, snow flurries began falling in slow motion, spotting their field of vision with small, white dots.
"It's snowing!" Ginny gleefully announced.
"Brilliant deduction."
"Prat."
"Shrew."
They grinned evilly at each other. In passing a branch weighed down by snow, Ginny filled her hand with iced crystals and crunched them into a small and compact ball. It had always been hard to get close enough to her brothers to slip them into their necks, because during the winter, they knew what to expect from their sister. Unfortunately for him, Draco was utterly unwarned and fell too easily in Ginny's trap. She wrapped her arm around his neck, not surprised by the promptness with which he responded and pulled her firmly to him. Eyes half closed, he dipped his head to kiss her-only to snap it back up when a small pack of ice slid out of his wife's hand and into his neck. He groaned and made to retaliate, but she was already running ahead of him, laughing madly.
There wasn't enough snow to hinder their progress, but the thin film of white on the trail made running after one another a hazardous operation. Ginny made it even worse when, steering off the path, she tried to escape from him in the thick snow. Draco, having grown up to track down Blaise, Pansy, and his other friends in his father's woods, quickly found a sure footing and caught up with Ginny in a few measured strides.
"Ah," she exclaimed between peals of laughter as his arms closed around her.
"Aren't you quite the fiendish creature…? Attacking an innocent, defenseless man like me…"
Ginny sniggered, and wriggling like a fish to get out of his grip, managed to puff out, "Defenseless? Please."
Draco let her go for an instant, in a gesture that cats playing with a mouse often have. Surprised, she nearly lost her balance but began moving away again. He gave her a few seconds of advance, then pounced. He lunged at her. She squealed. He caught her in his arms and let himself fall in the snow, dragging her with him.
"No, no, no, no-aaaaahhhhh…"
She landed on top of him. Her head on his chest, she could feel his heart's rapid beating and the warmth exuding from him.
"Mister Malfoy," she sniggered, "that wasn't very smart of you… because I'm still dry and you're not!"
Ginny would have punctuated that statement with a snicker, but before she could realize it wasn't very smart of her to say such a thing, Draco rolled her off him and flat on her back in the snow. The cold seeped into her neck. Draco hoisted himself above her and smirked.
"You were saying?"
"I hate you."
"Sure you do," he retorted, nibbling her lower lip.
She moaned, a sound which often sounded more like a hum than anything else. Instinctively, his hips ground into hers, a movement she encouraged by enfolding him between her legs. Around them, the snow melted slowly to form an interestingly shaped angel. Completely unaware of their surroundings, Ginny began unzipping Draco's jacket, while he ran his hands under her sweater and cupped his palms around her engorged breasts. Suddenly, there was a loud fizzing noise, followed by a bright, yellow light and a bang.
"Fireworks!" Ginny exclaimed against Draco's mouth, immediately trying to push him off her.
He sighed and complied with her unspoken demand. Keeping a hold of her hand, he rested on his back next to her as a second shriek turned into a series of red wheels revolved across the sky, sending flames in all directions. Then a shot of green split the night in half, coiling and undulating until its wings and claws became visible and an emerald dragon roamed the skies. Ginny's face shone red, green, then blue, and gold, and many other colors, but all Draco cared about was the look of utter bliss plastered on her features. Every time a firecracker snapped or a flower of light blossomed Ginny squeezed Draco's hand.
The Potter and Weasley vaults… Potter and Weasley… Potter and Weasley…
The volume of sound and light involved in the fireworks suddenly increased as the night turned almost bright with all the colorful flames involved. Ginny straddled Draco, grinning at his wince of pleasured surprise.
Lowering her face to is, she murmured against his lips, "Happy New Year!"
"And happy it is indeed," he retorted smugly, placing his hands in the small of her back.
She rolled her eyes and kissed him, delighting in the hunger with which his lips met hers. He pulled her to him and rotated his hips slowly so that she ground against him. The hisses of the fireworks died out, leaving the snow, fir trees, and silence to witness their whispers and tender kisses.
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