Hesperides' Apple
Chapter 3
On Wednesday Draco was nowhere to be seen. He had left Ginny a note, warning her that he would be away and wouldn't return until Thursday night, when they would attend dinner at the Notts'. She spent her day in the library, reading the assigned material on the families she would be meeting later that week.
Rich, pure-blooded, prestigious, cocky to death… That's easy enough to remember.
So Ginny had moved on to information about the Malfoys. She could not find an era left unmarked by their cruelty and domination, though several anecdotes implied they could demonstrate, when pleased, outstanding generosity toward friends and followers. Of French origin, their family had thrived since Vercingetorix's times, siding shamelessly with the Romans to import some civilization into the brutal Gaulish tribes, accompanying Charlemagne in his conquests, funding Francois Premier's castles, and intervening in Louis XIV's most private cabinets. The 1789's revolution had marked the end of the Malfoys' involvement in Muggle affairs. The Male-Foi had emigrated to Great Britain, switching their name to the less disparaging Malfoy, bringing with them enough gold to build a dozen Versailles and arrogance to shame any prince.
Blah blah blah. That's not going to help me win Master Malfoy's heart. Now, if only I could better understand that silly labyrinth of a castle....
Sure enough, Ginny found a booklet with maps of the Malfoy Manor. Checking the index, she managed to locate "Ginevra Vassil's room" on the same floor as "Narcissa Malfoy's room", and above, the "Main Library" and the "Dining Room". There appeared to be a few ballrooms, several tearooms, many guest chambers, additional and specified libraries, and a plethora of rooms whose use Ginny would never have thought of. She looked up "Master Malfoy's room" and his office; rather than turning to the page, however, the book merely mentioned "Third floor". Ginny could not find the corresponding plan. Visibly, some areas of the Manor were still off boundary.
Ginny had lunch alone. She attempted to chat with the maitre d'hotel, who merely nodded politely in answer to her questions. Resigned, she asked him where the broom shed was; he indicated someone would walk her there after the meal. Grainne showed up and silently took her to the broom shed. "Shed" was a pitiful term for what looked more like a museum room. The brooms rested on cushions under glass boxes, a small descriptive presenting each of them. Ginny learned that all brooms were not necessarily unisex. The Veela's Rage was without doubt the fastest feminine broom, but its pearly white handle and golden tail twigs painfully reminded Ginny of Fleur.
"We'll name zem Gala'ad and Guenièvre, after you, Geeny."
She wondered if her rage had been of any help when the Death Eaters had attacked The Burrow. But what could a seven month-pregnant woman do against blood-thirsty brutes, even if she was a quarter Veela, even if Bill had probably protected her to the end? Ginny fought the lump of pain that suddenly burned inside her throat, urging her to stop, urging her to cry, urging her to abandon the Manor and find a place to die. She looked around for comfort.
Cleansweep 11, handle of Spanish oak with anti-jinx varnish, in-built vibration control, 0-70 in ten seconds.
"All of them?" A muffled cry from Ginny's throat.
She has just Apparated in Hermione's flat. Hermione nods, or shakes, Ginny can't tell. Her sister-in-law's face is hidden by her hair and hands, but she knows it to be ravaged by tears, fear and anger.
"Ron," Hermione gurgles between sobs.
Shooting Star 200, maple wood, 85 mph, strong and stable.
"They found Charlie's broom, the new Shooting Star. That's how they figured he was…" Hermione explains painfully. "They couldn't make out the bodies, it was such a mess!"
Her voice hitches. She closes her eyes and wills the vision away. At her feet, Ginny has curled into a ball and chokes on dry sobs.
"The Order knew exactly who was there. But everyone else thinks you're dead."
"I am dead."
Ginny calmed herself. A silk handkerchief popped out of nowhere, marked with the Malfoy crest. She wiped the tears out of her lashes, and then made for the sleek Melusine 2002. The glass case opened as the broom flew into Ginny's hand. In a second she had mounted it and was flying above the Malfoy property. The wind slapped her face with increasing violence as she flew faster, seeking the point where the cold would numb her and her chilled self would stop feeling, if only for a moment.
Ginny came back at dusk. Her hair was windswept, and her hands and face red from the cold, the area around her eyes particularly so. She felt purged, however; the feeling was well worth the look of shock on Grainne's face and Narcissa's disapproval, she thought, as she saw the curtains of Mrs. Malfoy's window close. Ginny hurried back to her quarters, glad to find the bathroom gray with steam and smelling of homely lavender. She dove in her bath and emerged only to head for bed.
•••
"Are you out of your mind?" Narcissa Malfoy snapped. "Pink would make her look like chewed bubblegum. Have I ever taken anything pink at your shop? No! And I'm not about to start now."
The head assistant of Donkey Skin Dresses sent her aides digging for additional dresses. Ginny stood on a small platform in her bra and knickers, pink in the face but unable to duck for cover. Narcissa had already chosen an extremely light and summery white dress; a tight-fitted tube dress; a tender gold satin dress with very low neckline and bare back; a strapless, dark blue dress flaring at mid-thigh; and still she showed no sign of stopping. A young woman came back bearing a dress of savage silk. The head assistant waved her wand and the dress autonomously slipped on Ginny, who felt immediately more at ease.
Narcissa glanced appraisingly at the empire-waistline, at the elegant slope of the dress, and smiled at the extremely high slit on the side.
"Storm colored dress, Mrs. Malfoy, in the spirit of the dress offered by her father to Donkey Skin."
Indeed, the dress seemed to wrap Ginny in a dense and angry fog, and the streaks in the silk were like gusts of wind. A delicate lightning fizzed along Ginny's body. Narcissa saw the young woman's sugary-brown eyes turn amber with delight as the first genuine smile of the day lit her face.
"Impeccable, we'll take that one too. Now, do you have-"
Ginny found herself half-naked again, passionately willing this shopping spree with Narcissa to come to an end. Suddenly, she felt something soft crawling on her skin. She looked as a flower of lace placed on her shoulder burst open, and quickly covered her torso, hips, and legs.
"Nelsha," the head assistant explained, "are very rare cloth creatures. This one is a Lace Nelsha, but some are of velvet, silk, satin, and so forth. Once it is placed on your skin, all you have to do is think of the cut and color of the dress you want, or even of the event you will be attending, and the Nelsha morphs to match your needs."
Narcissa had clearly been thinking for Ginny, as Ginny found herself in a skin-tight envelope that didn't stretch far above de knee and squared around her breasts.
I wish she wouldn't choose the dresses with such low necklines.
Being dressed in lace did not make it any easier-it was thick, and beautiful, and brown, but it was still lace.
"Excellent choice, mother," came a low drawl from the entrance of the trying room.
Horrified, Ginny wheeled around. Draco, with an appreciative smile on his lips, looked her straight in the eye, well aware that checking her out as he had been for the past minute would not have pleased Ginevra.
"Yes, I'm rather satisfied with what I found for her. What do you think, Ginevra?"
"I liked the storm one a lot," Ginny said.
"That goes without saying," Narcissa said matter-of-factly. "We'll take them all, then."
In a flurry of activity, the shopping assistants disposed of the unwanted dresses and started folding those the Malfoys would buy.
"I'm so glad we no longer shop at Madame Malkin's," Narcissa said as she took Draco out of the changing room.
Ginny was only too glad to slip back in her sand-colored robes. She walked out of the fitting room to see the Malfoys waiting for her outside Donkey Skin Dresses.
"Thanks a lot," she called to the surprised shopping aides.
"-back to the Manor," Narcissa said as Ginny emerged from the shop. "Enjoy the evening."
She Disapparated. Draco slipped Ginny's arm under his and they started walking.
"So, how was your trip?" Ginny asked.
"Good," Draco said.
She looked at him expectantly, waiting to hear more, but he clearly wasn't as voluble as her own father and brothers had been when returning from work. Nonplussed, Ginny stared around her, pretending to discover Diagon Alley, but truly happy to be there again. Memories of shopping for school supplies with her family filled her mind, and she smiled sadly. Draco perceived this sudden melancholy.
"What did you do yesterday?" he said.
"I researched a map of your Manor," Ginny said.
He chuckled.
"And then I went for a ride."
"On Suède?" he asked, surprised.
"No, on the Melusine 2002. It felt… good," she completed, incapable of describing the frigid cold and abandon she had felt, or having the pain of losing her family washed out of her by the elements.
They entered Glauce's Jewelry. A man with white hair and androgynous features strolled toward them.
"Mister Malfoy," he greeted them, bowing slightly. "Miss-"
"Malfoy," Draco filled in.
The salesclerk let a spark of curiosity slide through his eyes. He bowed to Ginny as well, who murmured, "Hello."
"Creon, I-We are looking for jewelry to match newly bought dresses," Malfoy explained.
Draco handed Creon what looked like a small, round mirror. The salesclerk invited his customers to sit on a sofa and placed the mirror on the table before them. An image of Ginny in the white summer dress appeared. Creon nodded to himself, waved his wand, and three boxes floated toward them. Ginny gaped when the boxes opened to reveal, one a necklace, the second bracelets, the last rings, all in what appeared to be diamonds.
"No, not diamonds," Draco said lazily. "The dress requires something that's fresher… Pearls?"
A new set of boxes was soon hovering about them. For each dress, Creon suggested and Draco gave his assent, eventually turning to Ginny for the final approval. She felt Draco's breath stop for a millisecond when he saw the image of her in the gray dress.
"This requires Aquilo's Saphires," Draco said. "With white gold, if you have."
Creon opened a box, and from it soared three oval stones, held together by whorls of a silvery metal. Ginny watched, fascinated, the nights of tempest enclosed in the sapphires so dark they were almost black.
"I am sorry, sir, but this is platinum," Creon murmured.
Draco dismissed the apology, pleased with the hunger he saw in Ginevra's eyes. He could tell she was entranced by the stones rather than by their value when she turned her eyes, wide with disbelief, to him.
"Platinum?" she whispered.
He nodded confidently. She sat back in the sofa, stunned. Draco proceeded with the choice of jewelry, picking a necklace and earrings that looked like ivory needlework for the Nelsha dress. Ginny merely nodded, still lost in thought. Only now did she begin to realize that there were no price tags on the jewelry, and that he had chosen costly gems and metals. And though she had no precise idea how much each bauble cost, she knew that a single earring with the Aquilo sapphires cost more than all the Weasleys had ever possessed.
"Ginevra, come," Draco interrupted her reverie.
She took the hand he offered and followed him out of the shop, with Creon thanking them repeatedly. Draco did not pull out so much as a Knut. The commotion and noise reigning in Diagon Alley brought Ginny back to her senses. She stopped, turned to Draco, placed her hand on his jaw near the ear, and kissed him softly on each cheek.
It was his turn to be stunned, by the gesture rather than by the streak of cold fire that shot through him. Behind them, a witch giggled.
"Thank you," Ginny said simply.
He smiled, between satisfaction and happiness. He took her arm again.
***
Draco sat in an armchair in the vestibule, clad in black dress robes. A clock struck five thirty, its rings soon joined by the soft thumps of high-heels on carpet. Draco looked up to see Ginny walking down the stairs, the bottom of her dress billowing below mid-thigh. Her long hair tied in a loose braid partially hid her sapphire-and-gold earrings. She only wore a heavy golden band for bracelet, having left her neck and shoulders deliciously naked.
"You look beautiful," Draco said, amused by the fact that his dates usually greeted him with that same sentence.
The heir of the Malfoys had been with women more beautiful than Ginevra, with women who were richer, or more sophisticated, and that surpassed her in every possible way. Yet, he found himself liking her poise and simplicity, and her earnest retorts even more. She hadn't thrown himself at him yet, nor taken for granted what he had offered her: two details that definitely set her apart from a number of the women he had dated-or, to put it more bluntly, slept with.
"Thanks," she said, smiling brightly at him. "I've been saying this a lot lately, haven't I?" She laughed. "But yeah, thanks a lot, for everything."
On the contrary, he thought. Thank you for tonight, and the night after that, and the following night…
He managed to pull a tender smile from his predatory thoughts. Outside on the porch, a dark carriage awaited them. They sat facing each other, and Ginny observed the landscape as they flew over Wiltshire. Soon, the carriage landed in front of a manor nearly as impressive as Malfoy's. As Draco led her toward the entrance, Ginny's thoughts ran wild.
What if they recognize me? No, surely they couldn't. It's not as though anyone ever paid attention to me back at Hogwarts… Besides, they think me dead. Yes, that's bound to convince anyone. I can't be the Weasel girl.
As they stepped unto the porch, the high wooden doors opened, and a woman with dark hair and a prominent jaw literally threw herself at Draco.
"Draco, what a pleasure to see you," she said as Draco kissed her hand. "Theo will be happy to know you have arrived."
Romilda? Here? Merlin's beard, she'll recognize me in a heartbeat!
"Romilda, this is Ginevra, a friend of mine. Ginevra, Romilda Nott, mistress of the house," Draco said.
"Delighted to meet you," Ginny said, forcing her Slavic accent.
"Likewise," Romilda said, barely taking her eyes off Draco. "Ginevra's a lovely name. There was a girl in my school named like that, she dated Potter for a while, you know, Harry Potter," she went on as she dragged her guests into the house. "So where are you from?"
"Durmstrang," Ginny enunciated.
"Durmstrang?!? Oh, that's horrible! I mean, not really, but I would have hated going there. Besides, I wouldn't have met Theo if I hadn't-There he is! Theodore, come here, the Malfoys have arrived."
A lank young man arrived, smiling pleasantly at Draco and Ginny.
"Ah, Draco, I'm glad you could come. We were just having a discussion with my father and Mr. Parkinson. I'm sure your expertise will be appreciated." Turning to Ginny, he added, "I'm sorry, Miss, I'm going to have to steal Draco for a few seconds."
They left off, Draco mildly concerned about Ginny's welfare, but soon wrapped up in the conversation with Parkinson and the Notts. Ginny had expected this, and set about exploring the house as dignifiedly as possible. She found it as richly decorated as Malfoy Manor, albeit in a more standoffish, in your face kind of way. Velvet, marble, and gilt fought alongside tapestries, paintings and sculptures of dubious taste. Groups of people she thought she remembered from Hogwarts walked past her without a second glance, though she distinctly heard someone sniggering, "Yes, she's Malfoy's new conquest; wonder how long she will last." She turned to see Pansy Parkinson giving her a mocking glare. Parkinsons' features had rounded slightly, giving more kindness to a face that greatly needed it. Her nose, however, remained as it had been at Hogwarts, and her expressions possibly more so; she was the very picture of pedantry made woman.
"I know you don't need me to tell you this, but you shouldn't pay attention to Pansy's words whenever she refers to Draco."
Ginny wheeled around and found herself face to face with Zabini's dark beauty. His slanted eyes were strangely obscure and burned like charcoal between his long eyelashes. Ginny felt like laughing in his face. Her last encounter with him had resulted in his being attacked by Arnold the Pigmy Puff and running away, screaming.
"Unfulfilled promises?" she asked smoothly.
"Broken vows," he said in a deep, rich voice. He had this air of self-confidence and cool sarcasm that reminded Ginny of Draco. She was surprised to find his company not disagreeable.
"They weren't Slytherin for no reason," she said casually.
"Nor was I. You must have been a Ravenclaw; I would have noticed you had you been in Slytherin."
"Oh no, I attended Durmstrang."
"Really? Fresh blood," Blaise said, taking the excuse to look her up and down, "now that's rare-not to mention, appreciable."
He raised his champagne glass to Ginny. She was about to tap her own glass against his when an arm slid around her waist, resting protectively there.
"Malfoy! It's been a while!"
"Indeed," Draco said, smiling pleasantly, his voice frigid. "I see you've met Ginevra, Zabini. Would you excuse us for a moment?"
Blaise nodded obligingly. Ginny saw him wink at her before she was dragged away by her date. Though he did not appear to have anything to tell her, from that moment on, he kept his arm firmly around her. She endured the discussions without showing any sign of boredom, absorbed as she was in observing the people around her and feeling Draco's muscular arm against her back; he, perceiving the subtle movement of her face as she watched, held her to his side. She was so frail and animated in his grip that he felt intoxicated by her proximity.
At dinner, they were separated, as is the use when inviting couples. Draco was seated between Romilda Nott and a woman who looked like she could be Pansy's mother, and Ginny found herself between two rather old men she did not know, but facing Zabini. Draco shot Ginevra a discrete glance, admiring how straight she sat and how graceful each of her movement was, from the way she cut her chicken to the way she sometimes rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. As time rolled by, Draco was increasingly incensed to see Zabini and Ginevra deep in conversation, though he easily hid it. When they were allowed to leave the table, Draco was by Ginny's side in the blink of an eye.
"As my date," he growled in her ear, "I would rather you refrained from conversing with only one, moreover single, male during the evening. It should be clear that you are here with me, not about to leave with Zabini."
"But there was no one el-I'm sorry," Ginny quickly amended as his eyes turned dark with anger.
Instantly, his face was once again peaceful and he nodded, and then started towing her from one group of people to the other. More than once, Ginny's gaze crossed Pansy Parkinson's loathsome glare and Blaise's amused eyes, but she reacted to neither and dutifully performed her task as Draco Malfoy's escort. They left early, it appeared to her, when a swingy music drifted from the ballroom and people started making their way toward it. They bid farewell to the Notts, Ginny thanking them profusely for a dinner she had not enjoyed, and were once again in the flying carriage.
"You don't like to dance, do you?" Ginny said out of the blue.
"Depends who I'm with," he answered distantly.
Ouch, she thought. He realized how she must have interpreted his words when an uncomfortable silence came about. She had closed her eyes, leaning against the windowsill and looked like she could be asleep. Draco detailed the lines of her face, liking the way the prune shadows rested below her cheeks and around her eyes. It suddenly gave her a gaunt, too-quickly-grown look that he knew he had seen somewhere. The trip back did not bring back his memory, though, and when she woke and was once again full of roundness and life, he still could not tell why he thought he knew her.
This time, he accompanied Ginny to her room. Ceding to an impulse that had nagged him all day long, he leaned forward to kiss her, but an unexpected sensation made him kiss her cheeks rather than her mouth. She saw the hesitation and, for a second, was expectant, almost hungry for him, but he turned around and vanished at the end of the corridor. She entered her room, her body still tingling from the urge she had had to be passionately kissed by Draco.
***
The following morning, Grainne brought in a letter along with the breakfast tray.
Mrs. Vassil,
I am holding a tea party this afternoon and would be delighted if you could join us. It will be from 3 PM on, at the Parkinson Manor.
Best regards,
Pansy Elizabeth Parkinson.
Ginny groaned. She had expected an invitation, indeed, but certainly not from "Pug Pansy". This could mean nothing good, but refusing the invitation would be a strategic error.
"Grainne, what time is the dinner at the Galileo?"
"Six, miss."
"And how are we getting there?"
"I believe you will be Apparating there, as it is quite far."
So if I'm back by five, that leaves me a little less than an hour to prepare… Two hours at the Parkinson Manor can't be that bad, can they?
"Where can I get some parchment?" Ginny asked as she got out of bed.
"If I may, mademoiselle… If you wish to write to Miss Parkinson, there are ready made answers that I can send her. They are customized automatically," she added, seeing a look of protest on Ginny's face.
"That's very well thought of," Ginny said. "Yes, please do that."
Ginny spent the early part of the day in Narcissa's garden, accompanied by three colorful birds that hovered and sang about her. Hermione having taught her that spell, she felt like she carried a bit of the Muggle-born witch with her. Her loneliness diminished somewhat at that thought. Ginny let her hands drift in the thick foliage, cupping around fruits and tickling flowers, marveling at how Narcissa could not have wished to grow this personally, leaving the task to the elves. She plucked a few Puffapods, determined to make them bloom in her unwelcoming antechamber.
Eventually she set off to the Parkinson Manor, having beforehand inquired about the distance. Unsurprisingly, Pansy's residence was close to Malfoy's. In barely five minutes, Ginny found herself in front of a castle suspended above the sea, its walls and towers of such a dark rock that they seemed carved out of the cliff. She was escorted past a number of rooms and galleries, just like the ones she had grown to expect in the manors of the people she was now dealing with. The doors of a boudoir opened before her when the butler stopped. She was introduced in a small room, decked in soft lavender and gold, with rivers of lilac streaming from a ceiling that showed a setting sun.
"Ah, Miss Vassil, at last. You don't mind if I call you Ginevra, do you?" Pansy purred as she greeted her.
"Not at all," Ginny answered unctuously.
"Then please, call me Pansy. Ginevra, this is Millicent Goyle, Romilda Nott, with whom we dined last night, Cecilia Lestrange, Vivian Silverspring, and Georgiana Diggory. Ladies, Ginevra Vassil, Malfoy's friend."
Pansy's voice had become acid, but Ginny was all eyes for the woman she believed to be Diggory's sister. Like him, she had wide, gray eyes and a rather square frame, though discreet freckles and her wavy ash-blonde hair added a subtle melancholy to her features. Ginny could not understand how a woman whose brother had been killed under the eyes of her friends' fathers and husbands could sit here, tranquilly sipping tea. Then she remembered that she herself was eating cookies under Parkinson's roof and lodged in Malfoy Manor, so she pressed the matter no further.
"So, Ginevra," Pansy addressed her as the conversations continued, "how did you meet Draco?"
"I attended Durmstrang, and his father, in the hopes that Draco might one day go there as well, encouraged correspondence between the two of us. It was established thanks to the good will of our Headmaster at the time, Igor Karkaroff."
"It is surprising that having exchanged letters with such a charming young woman as yourself, Draco did not immediately transfer," Pansy observed, her voice thick with venom.
"Well, he never saw me until about a year ago," Ginny said as self-consciously as possible, "though he did ask his parents to transfer during his fifth year. Narcissa would hear nothing about it."
"Yes, that is very typical of Mrs. Malfoy. And so you saw Draco for the first time in person-?"
"A year ago, when I was invited to their country house in the South of France," Ginny said innocently, knowing very well, from Zabini's confidences the previous evening, that Pansy had never been there and found the fact infuriating. Pansy's lips did indeed twitch somewhat maniacally at that moment.
"How delightful," she gritted out. "Love at first sight, I suppose?"
Ginny let a silvery laugh stream from her lips, filling it with as much contempt as she could manage.
"Love, with Draco? Of course not. Let's just say that we found we had matching interests," she smiled explicitly, "and that we got along better than one could expect."
Ginny marveled at Pansy's self control. It was clear that the other woman wished only to strangle her and thought herself much more apt than Ginny to get along with Draco.
"Ah yes, because getting along with Draco Malfoy is quite a feat," Romilda Nott dropped in at that moment.
I think in your case, getting along with anyone is quite a feat, Ginny thought viciously. She had not particularly appreciated the way Mrs. Nott hung about Mr. Malfoy, much like she had been thoroughly annoyed by Romilda's pathetic attempts at steering Harry away from her back at Hogwarts.
Harry… She thought fondly of him. He had made her promise not to regret him should anything happen, and she fought valiantly to think of him without a trace of sadness. Ever since Hermione had told her, after the raid at the Burrow, of the prophecy, she had understood that Harry would perish in his attempt to destroy Voldemort. His sudden disappearance, his loss of contact with anyone except, she guessed, Remus Lupin, had shortly been followed by his final disappearance at the hands of the Dark Lord.
But it worked. He rid us of Tom Riddle and the monster he had become, and for what? For the pure-bloods, under Lucius Malfoy's lead, to take over and shape the British Wizarding world as they found fit.
"I dated him for a while," Romilda continued, ignoring the glare Pansy threw at her. "He was thoughtful, I guess. I mean, I had whatever I wanted, dresses, jewelry, trips to the end of the world. That was fun. But he was never really there…"
"Draco only enjoys the company of educated and sophisticated women," Viviane said unexpectedly. "He is difficult to please, just as he should be."
"Well yes, I know, but apparently even I wasn't enough for him. I hope it works out well for you," Romilda told Ginny in a spirit that differed entirely from Pansy's.
"Thank you. I'm sure it will," Ginny said.
Murder was etched plainly in Pansy's face.
***
"I am so glad to be out of there," Ginny told herself as she ran up the stairs to her room.
"Out of where?" Draco's voice echoed.
"Errrr…"
"Parkinson invited you to tea, did she?" Draco said, emerging from one corridor's shadows.
"Well yes, but-"
"And she gave you the usual, `Draco needs a refined and witty woman', `He's very hard to please', accompanied by death glares?"
"Actually, Viviane Silverspring took care of the `refined and witty' part. But yes, that was pretty much it."
"Typical… All of my-" his voice trailed, "-girlfriends have been given the talk by my ex-soon-to-be-wife. I'm afraid my father had been too clear in his desire to unite the Malfoy and Parkinson families." Draco was suddenly lost in thought, but he resurfaced promptly. "We're having dinner at the Galileo tonight with-"
"Business partners. Grainne told me. I'll be ready by quarter to six, if that's early enough?"
He nodded and let her pass. He breathed in sharply when she brushed past him.
I need a woman… soon.
***
"We're going to have to close the Cleansweep factory in Manchester, it's just not competitive enough anymore," Draco explained calmly.
"What if we modernized it? That would only cost-"
"Even if we did modernize it, the Cleansweep is quickly becoming out of fashion. I think we should invest elsewhere, maybe in the Nimbus, or concentrate on the Cleansweep factories near Birmingham and advertise to a specific type of client."
Draco's rather heavy partner with the obnoxious purple robes appeared reassured by the latter option and nodded frantically. His wife, who was probably in her forties, smiled absently. Ginny had immediately liked her quiet elegance, so unlike that of the two other women at the table. One of them was at least twenty years younger than her husband (she assumed they were married), a sultry brunette who threw languid glances at Draco and conniving smiles at Ginny. The other was Draco's business partner and was so in-your-face and aggressive that she distinctly reminded Ginny of Rita Skeeter. Her husband, an effaced little man, was busy finishing the wine bottle with the sex-bomb.
Ginny, though mildly bored, made an effort to understand what was going on. She would report to Hermione later. At some point in the dinner, she put her hand on Draco's lap and let it rest there. He threw her a sharp glance, shortly followed by a minuscule smile, and continued arguing coolly. Eventually, Ginny managed to begin chatting with the timid woman, who turned out to be Romanian and have attended Durmstrang. Their conversation lasted until the end of dinner, when Draco took the check and Apparated with Ginny back to the Manor.
"She's really an adorable woman," Ginny was telling Draco as he escorted her back to her room. "Oh, and thank you for the dinner, it was delicious. She said she would have returned to teach at Durmstrang if she hadn't married Mr.-"
"Sevskin," Draco completed.
"Yes, Mr. Sevskin. It would have been interesting to have her as a teacher, I think."
"Having interesting teachers makes them all the harder to lose," Draco said somberly.
She knew he was referring to Snape, whom Harry and Remus had managed to kill. For the first time, she measured the gap the war had made between two Hogwarts students like Draco and herself: whereas he mourned the teacher who had helped and even protected him, she had been satisfied upon learning the well-deserved death of the murderer. They reached her room.
"Goodnight," she said.
"Goodnight," he said, and he kissed her once, softly, but for a few seconds, at the corner of her lips.
Aaaaaaargh! screamed her mind, much like, at the other end of the hall, screamed Draco's body.
A/N: Aquilo is the Roman name for the Greek god Boreas, who, as the North Wind, commanded storms and violently cold winds.
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