31. From Violetta to Hathor
June 8th, 2001
The Nile, Egypt.
Aided by Draco, Ginny had no difficulty side-along Apparating to Egypt. She was far enough in her pregnancy that her sons' organs would not be damaged in the process, and the trip went smoothly. Draco had made all the necessary arrangements, using his influence and fortune to guaranty them a safe and rapid arrival in Luxor. A coach pulled by two ebony-black horses picked them up at the Apparition point, hidden behind an impressive stand of fresh fruit. They were then driven to where their personal cruise boat awaited them, bathed in the pink sunlight of the early morning. High above, the moon faded quickly, still visible over the valley of the Kings and Hatchepsut's temple. Ginny laughed in delight as they caught up with mules driven by kids and young men on bicycles who balanced large crates of bread on their head.
She couldn't hold back a sigh of awe when she saw their boat. Looking very much like the traditional Egyptian barques of old, it was beautifully painted and boasted large, white sails. Draco helped Ginny board the barque with so much care and precaution that she felt like an invalid. Once on the boat, they both had the pleasure to note that the vessel was significantly more spacious than it originally appeared, like those tents enchanted to hold an entire household's worth of furniture. The crew, decked in white but for the maids who were in black, stood in a single line. Draco nodded to the man who had stepped forward and introduced himself as the captain.
"Lady Malfoy, Lord Malfoy, welcome to the Nepthys (1). It is an honour to have you on board. We hope that you will enjoy your stay with us."
Ginny eyed the staff with some amusement, surprised as always by the deference money could buy. The men were pointedly gazing toward the horizon while the women kept their eyes lowered. They would, Ginny knew, make themselves as invisible and quiet as possible while fulfilling her and Draco's every wish.
"On board you will find a pool, jaccuzzi, sauna and spa complete with massage services. There is a dining room, a ballroom, a smoking parlour, and a pool room. We are at your disposition should you need or desire anything. We will do our best to ensure that you are fully satisfied."
"Captain," Draco said in acknowledgment.
The man bowed and signalled to the rest, who left to resume their various occupations. A young steward, his eyes like charcoal and his skin nearly as dark as Blaise's, led them to their suite and left them there, asking them to call for Danial should they require his presence.
"This is huge!" Ginny exclaimed as she visited the room's two bathrooms, boudoir, and office. "We even have two bedrooms, can you imagine? That's utterly preposterous."
Draco grinned wolfishly and took her in his arms.
"Preposterous, indeed. Do you like it?"
"Do I like it?" she laughed. "It's amazing! I can't wait to try the spa."
"I hope the masseur is a woman," Draco said, his face darkening at once.
"Does it really matter?" she asked, surprised as always by his misplaced jealousy.
"Of course it does," he replied sharply. "I'll make sure that no man other than me feels you up this week."
"Mmmh, you and your caveman instincts."
"And you love them."
"Sometimes," she said, sounding unconvinced and then running away as he began tickling her.
"So, what do you want to do?"
"I'd like to visit the boat."
Drco shrugged, but followed her out of the suite, discovering as she did the sumptuous premises his taste for luxury now afforded them. The corridors and public spaces were tastefully decorated, the marble floors covered with oriental rugs and the wooden ceilings hanging with Louis XVI chandeliers. Windows, framed with heavy curtains, opened onto the Nile's blue and green shores, making for a very soothing décor. Ginny smiled brighter each time they stumbled upon new rooms - an indoor garden, a tea-room, a library - while Draco tried to steal away kisses and pushed her in all the corners he could find. This felt like a second honeymoon, with only Ginny's pregnancy limiting their enthusiasm and energy.
Draco was at Ginny's beck and call, however, and had never been as preoccupied by her wellbeing as he now was, away from the jealous, judgmental and resentful looks of society. They were to spend two days in Aswan after a three day trip up the Nile. Draco categorically forbid her to go out between noon and five o'clock, when they took the time to rest in the cool penumbra of their suite. The rest of the time, Ginny wandered about, lounging on the rooftop under oversized parasols or dutifully executing her laps across the pool. Draco read her stories from books in the library, pretended to drown her whenever she was in the water, and occasionally locked himself in his office to deal with urgent Owls.
The banks of the Nile drifted by them leisurely, spiked with the occasional minaret or electric post. Ochre and orange villages buried into the palm trees, alternating with impressive ranges of deserts of red cliffs. Then and there, patches of papyrus added to the turquoise waters a colour of their own; buffalos, herons, and kids alike populated these moments of green.
Sumptuous meals gave way to delightful massages and evenings spent drinking mint tea under the stars. Lost in each other's presence, Ginny and Draco rediscovered what it was like to be careless and in love. One afternoon found Ginny in the hammam, pampered by two women who, though they did not speak English, communicated their congratulations for her pregnancy with smiles and gestures. The young woman let herself be taken care of, and followed dumbly as she was led into the sauna. Five hot and dry minutes later, the women returned to get her and made her stand in a shallow pool. Using an exfoliating glove and orange flower soap, they scrubbed her skin so hard it turned pink. Disgruntled at first, Ginny then took some satisfaction in imagining all the impurities, physical or emotional, from her body. She was grateful nonetheless when they rinsed her off and made her lie down on a heated marble table.
As per Draco's orders, a masseuse had been invited on the boat to tend to Ginny; she was also a mid-wife and knew exactly how to handle women, as Ginny found out when the woman palpated her limbs. Her hands were strong yet gentle, going lightly over sensitive parts without sparing the tired muscles or knotted nerves. Ginny felt like a baby once again and abandoned herself to the masseuse's soothing touch. When she emerged from the hammam an hour later, Ginny felt like her old body had been disposed of. Relaxed, appeased, her skin so soft it would have made a peach jealous, Ginny found her husband on the deck, smoking hookah.
A few days on board had convinced Draco that black dress robes were the best way to slowly die of heat, so he had traded his for wide pants and shirts made of linen. Ginny liked that look on him, as it made him seem more relaxed, happier. She reached him as a cloud of thick, white smoke escaped from his lips, filling the air with the rich perfume of apples.
"Hey, you," she said as she placed her hand on his shoulder.
Draco turned and gave her that heart melting smile that was all she needed to know she was with the right man. He helped her sit down and extinguished the sheesha with a flick of his wand, always careful of tobacco's effect on his unborn children.
"You smell good," he said, his arm around her, his nose buried in her hair.
"So do you."
They sat in silence for a while, letting the purple and gold tones of sunset gather above their heads. The shiny blue waters, occasionally streaked by a lone bird's wing, grew darker as the sun turned red and slowly sank below the horizon, making the palm trees and rocky reliefs in its way seem like paper cut outs.
"I like being with you," Ginny said contentedly.
A few seconds passed, the silence neither tense nor expectant.
"Me too," Draco said at last.
He put his hand on her belly and waited for the tell-tale kick, which wasn't long in coming. One of his sons always responded to his touch, and this usually prompted a series of movements that had made Ginny eventually agree to take a pain-reducing potion each morning. The massages helped as well, so that the young woman no longer suffered form backaches.
"Do you like opera?" Draco asked suddenly.
"Uhm… I like the music, but I've only ever been to the opera with you and you never asked - "
"Do you?" he repeated.
"Sure, yes."
"Good. Then we're going to the opera tomorrow night."
"But, Draco, we're in the middle of nowhere."
He shrugged, but when she lifted her face to look at him she saw the familiar, self-satisfied grin on his features.
"How long have you been planning this for?" Ginny asked with a sigh.
"The opera or the trip?"
For Ginny, the voyage had definitely been an impromptu decision, and not once had she imagined the possibility that Draco had been plotting this.
"Both."
"Well, I wanted to take you there after I… well, before you… ran away." It was his turn to sigh, and Ginny felt an uncustomary vulnerability in his voice. "I knew you would be angry with me after I confronted you, but the thought of us parting was just impossible. I hoped that this would, err… mollify you, and that we could work together to convince you that marrying me was the best thing you'd ever done."
"You thought you could buy my affection with a trip to Egypt?" Ginny asked, amused. "How shallow do you think I am?"
"I didn't think, I hoped," Draco corrected her gently. "Then you ran away, so it didn't matter. I was beyond myself with worry, with rage, with… With hurt. I hadn't hurt like this since the day Voldemort promised to kill my parents if I failed him. I thought I could never feel that way again, like my actions could endanger all that mattered to me, and here I was, blinded by my emotions for the first time since I had become a man, but now armed with a determination and skills that Rabastan had not yet imparted upon me at the time. Egypt was not at the forefront of my mind anymore, I assure you."
"I'm sorry," Ginny said after a pause. "I shouldn't have left you the way I did."
"You shouldn't have left me."
"Draco…"
"No. Things would have turned out all right in the long run. I would have made sure that they did."
"With a trip to Egypt," Ginny repeated incredulously, her voice holding a hint of venom.
"And copious amounts of sex. Perhaps some diamonds, too."
"Maybe something along the lines of `I love you' would have helped," Ginny suggested, knowing full well that he had yet to tell her that.
"You know it wouldn't have."
He was, of course, absolutely right. Had she stopped long enough to even listen to him, she would never have believed him.
"I know. I-" Ginny began, then huddled closer to her husband's warm body. "Can we not think about this right now, please?"
Draco nodded, relieved as well to close the topic. He had no doubt that they would return to it, but the fact that they could discuss it without threatening to tear each other apart was indicative of some progress.
"So I'm taking you to the opera tomorrow night."
"But where?" Ginny asked, gesturing to the Nile's empty banks and emerald patches of papyrus.
"You'll see. You'll like it."
He was so sure of himself that Ginny had to laugh.
"Of course I will."
"You always do. I know what makes you happy," he said with the assurance of a tenured professor.
"Yes, and about those diamonds-" Ginny began cheekily.
"You don't like diamonds," Draco interrupted her, his tone gentle and teasing. "You like topazes because they match your eyes, red rubies because your hair, surprisingly enough, doesn't clash with them, and emeralds, although you'll never admit that because you think I'll feel responsible - and victorious-for making you like Slytherin colours."
Ginny stared at him in utter disbelief.
"How did you-"
He shrugged.
"Draco, I told you not to use Legilimency on me!"
"I didn't," he said with such finality that she had to trust his word. "I just know you, Gin. Sometimes even better than you know yourself."
"Please…" she snorted.
Draco kissed the top her head.
"You know it's true."
"Is not."
"I won't lower myself to saying `is too'."
"Is not."
"Ginny…."
She laughed and kissed what she could reach of him - his neck -- thoroughly enjoying the subtle scent of his cologne as she did so. He shifted his face to kiss her soundly on the lips. She kissed him back, wanting nothing more to be this carefree, this happy, this close to him forever. She felt an intense and almost desperate pleasure build inside her chest, like an ache and a fulfilment at the same time. It made her want to cry, yet she knew that, if she did, her tears would be the happiest she'd ever shed. She was beginning to understand that she had found a new home in this man whose feelings were as dangerous as they were sharp.
"I love you," Draco murmured against her lips.
Ginny pressed her forehead against his and looked straight into his mercurial eyes.
"Yeah, I love you too," she answered.
***
June 9th, 2001
Philae Island, Egypt.
From the moment the overture began, with its slow crescendo of violins, Draco could tell, from the tears he saw brimming in Ginny's eyes, that he'd chosen the right opera. They were seated in the inner courtyard of the Philae temple, caught between two dams on the river Nile. An enchanted felucca, guided by a little black boy who hadn't said a word, had taken the Malfoys across the lake, its warm waters slit as if by a blade under the boat's swift progress. The temple sat on a little island amidst fans of papyrus plants and a plethora of black cats that lounged on broken columns. The sun, which had begun its descent toward the horizon, cast golden shadows on the temple's ancient stones, gilding them with peach tints.
Several rows of armchairs and divans had been installed facing the main temple, each endowed with its own coffee table and water-pipe. Draco had, immediately upon their arrival, cast a bubble around their seats to protect Ginny from the tobacco smoke. He had helped her lower herself onto the divan, appreciating the smile of enjoyment that graced her lips when she reclined, bringing her legs to the side and sitting back. He'd taken a seat next to her and laced his fingers with hers, thinking that, in this stunning setting, she could have been one of the pagan goddess of fertility once worshipped in this temple.
Now, the dark purple hues of night were unfurling through the sky like China ink dropped into water. Ginny allowed herself to be completely absorbed in Verdi's "La Traviata", pulled into Violetta's tragic story by the enchanting music and breathtaking scenery. By her side, somewhat amused, Draco followed the arias and brindisis (2) of a courtesan whose love for a man of higher status had caused her demise. He watched the opera itself as much as he did his wife, feeling increasingly attuned to the opera's genius as he saw how she smiled during the flirtatious brindisi, how she frowned during Giorgio Germont's exhortation for Violetta to leave his son, how her eyes widened when the gypsies began their bewitching chant. Verdi's music, Draco realized after years of dutifully following his parents to an opera that he generally held in contempt, was a language for the soul; only now that Ginny was with him could he finally understand that.
When her lover, mad with despair, cast his gains at Violetta's feet, Ginny's curious frown turned into a grimace of surprise. She closed her eyes and her entire face twisted, looking like one of the masks worn by the actors on the scene as they condemned Alfredo Germont. Only when Ginny brought her hands to her belly did Draco understand that her reaction had little to do with the opera's poignant scene.
"What is it?" he asked as her fingers tightened around his like a vice grip.
"I think they're coming," Ginny whispered, her face relaxing temporarily.
"Are you sure?"
She glared at him.
"Yes. The contractions have been going on since the beginning of the opera and they're getting more pronounced," she hissed, annoyed. "I need to go."
Draco shot up so fast that someone observing him would have thought he had been bitten by a snake. He glanced about feverishly. This elicited a chuckle from Ginny.
"Don't worry, this should take a little while. I'd rather not be seated on this lovely divan when my water breaks, is all."
The young man nodded.
"I'll Levitate you back to the barge."
"I can walk," Ginny said, rolling her eyes, but another contraction began and she focused on appeasing the pain.
"Not a chance," he responded, astonished by the intense anxiety that rippled through him.
"Lord Malfoy," came a voice behind them.
He turned around, wand in hand, to find himself face to face with the masseuse he had hired to take care of Ginny. His surprise upon finding her here was accompanied by the impression that she had been much younger when he had last seen her. Deep wrinkles marked her face, making it look like a prune. Her eyes, however, shined brighter than ever with a dark fire, filled with intelligence and compassion beyond any Draco could expect from a woman he considered a servant.
"If I may," she said, her voice soft yet filled with authority, "it would be better for Lady Malfoy to remain on the island until the twin boys are born. There is a room appointed to that effect."
"A room appointed-" Draco snapped, but he was interrupted by Ginny's hand on his arm.
"We will follow you," she told the old woman.
Without knowing why, she felt that she could trust the woman as though she had been Mrs. Weasley herself. She, too, was surprised by the masseuse's presence, yet she knew that this could not be a coincidence. The vibes of powerful magic that emanated from the crone may have gone unnoticed by Draco, who, as a man, was not versed in the age-old sorcery of women and motherhood, but Ginny could sense that magic was at work and let herself be led. Without a noise, they exited the inner courtyard of the temple. The old woman's grip on her hand was strong without being painful, and the support and independence it afforded were a far cry from Draco's over bearing protectiveness. Ginny found that she liked this, as she, in a moment like this, did not need babying so much as the encouragement to begin a new phase of her life.
Slipping past the columns of a structure that ran along the courtyard, they entered it. From the carved walls hung torches bright with warm flames, as though their presence were expected. The light and shadows revealed sumptuous reliefs of Egyptian gods carved into the stone and restored to perfection, the colours of old gracing the temple with their beauty.
"This is the mammisi," the old woman said as she pulled Ginny further into the structure. "The birth house."
Draco nearly sniggered, doubtful that a temple would be equipped with a birthing room. He did not know what, of the old woman's aura or the temple's mysterious atmosphere, prevented him from doing so. He did, however, keep his wand in hand, should anything unorthodox come to happen. At last they reached the inner sanctum, of which a wide divan occupied the center. It was piled with thick pillows, and the woman helped Ginny take a seat there.
"It's really hot," the redhead moaned, running a hand across her forehead where beads of sweat had started to form.
With one wave of her hand, the crone motioned to the walls of the temple, atop which several small opening appeared. Immediately, a warm breezed entered the temple. The woman plunged a cloth in a water basin that seemed created to that effect and wiped Ginny's face with patient care. Draco, meanwhile, glanced about the room, shocked to find items which, he assumed, were to be used during childbirth. He grimaced upon seeing the forceps, but recognized raspberry leaves and goldenseal, which could alleviate pain and facilitate contractions of any sort (3). Somewhat mollified, he walked over to Ginny and caressed her face. In one, swift motion, her eyes not even trained on him, she caught his hand and brought it down to her lap, where she squeezed it as though her life depended on it.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, wanting to Avada himself for putting her in this situation.
If only he hadn't been so obsessed with making her betray herself, with having children from the woman he loved against her will, she would not be in such pain right now.
"Not really," she said, and then winced another set of contractions began. "Yes. A little bit."
She kept her breathing shallow and rapid, appreciating how, somehow, this made the contractions feel somewhat less painful.
"Cardiographos," the old woman murmured, swishing a wand that was as ancient and gnarled as the woman herself.
From the wand sprang a blue ball of energy that went straight for Ginny's chest. When it emerged again, it was green and pulsed rapidly without being alarming.
"Her heart rate," the woman explained to Draco, who was livid with worry. "Everything is fine, Lord Malfoy."
But his eyes were on the cushions below Ginny.
"What's going on?" he asked, panicked.
Ginny made a mental note to tease him about it later, focusing instead on the warm fluid now soaking the cushions.
"Her waters broke," the old woman said without missing a beat. "We'll wait to make sure it's all evacuated and then I'll dry this up. You're doing well," she added, the hint of a smile making her face appear even more like crumpled parchment.
"It's okay, Draco," Ginny confirmed. "I'm fine. Could you get me some water please?"
This was exactly what the young man needed, as watching the birthing process was effectively driving him crazy. Desperately, he looked for a glass, a cup, anything to satisfy his wife.
"Uhm, darling," she said between two puffs. "You're a wizard. Try Transfiguration."
"Yes, Transfiguration, yes."
In a somewhat expert fashion, considering the state of bewilderment in which he appeared to find himself, Draco transformed a neighbouring brick into a mug that he then filled with a muttered "Aguamenti". Ginny took the cup from him and drank from it in one quick gulp. A thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead, though it was due more to the ambient warmth than to exertion, the difficult phase of labour having not yet begun. Draco, ignorant of this, paced about anxiously, as though ready to catch his newborn sons if they came flying within the following minutes. Regularly, the old woman examined Ginny, and after a little while she cast a short series of spell.
"What's wrong? What are you doing?" Draco barked immediately.
The glare the woman aimed at him was surprisingly ferocious for a woman of her stature and age.
"Providing her with enough glucose that she won't die of exhaustion before her labour is over," she said softly, "and giving her ocytocin to provoke contractions."
"Ocyto-"
"When you can't understand the answers to the questions you ask, Lord Malfoy, it is usually better not to ask them in the first place."
Ginny giggled as Draco blanched, his fists tightening in anger.
"Draco," she murmured, effectively distracting him. "This might take a while. Why don't you go rest a bit and the midwife will come get you later?"
"Later?" he all but snapped. "I'd rather not be sleeping when my sons are born."
"You won't be, I promise. It's just that, well… Eight hours is a long time."
"More like ten, my dear, with this being your first time and the two of them being little males."
"How did you know that?" Ginny asked, yet again surprised by the woman's clairvoyance.
But the old lady merely shrugged and somewhat forcefully ushered Draco out of the room. Ginny was able to hear the dwindling sound of their voices as her husband was exiled, and smiled tiredly when the wrinkly woman returned.
"Ten hours, then?" she mused in a small voice.
"Probably," the old woman confirmed as she drew a fresh and fragrant cloth across Ginny's face and neck. "Don't worry, and try not to think about it too much. You were programmed to do this."
"Draco told you about the Weasley genes, did he now?" Ginny asked wearily, barely noticing when the woman eased her out of her ballroom gown and enveloped her in a wide dress of light and comfortable cotton.
"You are a woman, my dear. If thinking were required of future mothers, overpopulation would not be a problem."
Ginny smiled and acknowledged the fact. She let herself calm down under the woman's care, contractions still shooting through her every several minutes. Something about the atmosphere around her, though, about the coppery penumbra of the inner sanctum and the warm air floating through, made her feel like things would be all right after all. Growing up, she had always known she would want children, but she had expected Molly to be the one holding her hand through the beautiful ordeal of childbirth. She remained certain that her mother and the rest of her family, including Harry, watched over her now; she hoped that they would not resent her for abandoning her quest for revenge, though she knew that they had loved her enough during their lifetime not to begrudge her a new chance at happiness.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the elder woman's voice. As she bustled about, heating some water and grinding caraway seeds, the woman sang a very strange but oddly comforting song. Ginny quickly gave up trying to understand the lyrics, instead allowing the melody to lull her into a half-sleep. Dimly, she felt pangs of pain rhythmically hacking at her body, but she knew that it was only a matter of time now before things really started, and she patiently waited for instinct to awaken her.
***
When Ginny rose from her nap several hours later, her eyes had to adapt to the darkness reigning about her. She tried to move, but the pain in her limbs was such that she quickly relented. Her throat was so dry she had difficulty swallowing. She was about to question her situation when the memories of the past hours assailed her. Hovering between fantastic dream and fantastic nightmare, she recalled how at some point in the night the contractions had grown increasingly frequent and painful, causing her to double over. The midwife had gently but unswervingly made her sit back and focus on her respiration. She had given her herbs and cast spells, but the ache had barely abated, ebbing and flowing as she felt her body accommodate to welcome her sons into the world.
She recalled Draco, haggard and livid with concern, barging into the room as she shrieked for her mother. She had dismissed him in no uncertain terms, screamed at him to stay out of the room if he valued his life and tried desperately to follow the midwife's orders as the woman wiped her face and neck. Dying of heat, soaked in sweat and water and, she suspected, blood, Ginny had not seen the time go by, so absorbed in the sensation of giving birth, that mixed pleasure and pain, that she had not had many rational thoughts after that.
How she felt when the midwife showed her the minuscule bundle that was her son, though, Ginny would always remember, though she did not know whether she would ever find the appropriate words to describe her elation. As the child's tiny mewl resonated through the chamber, quickly drowned by its mother's huffs and puffs and sobs of happiness, Draco had decided to brave the interdiction and entered the mammisi. The adoration with which he had gazed at Ginny was only equalled by the incredulous wonder that lit his features when he saw the baby in the midwife's arms. It had been bloody and sticky still, but breathed freely and grimaced as only newborns do. Draco had gestured to take it in his arms, but had found his son so small and frail that he hesitated.
"Take him," the old woman had said gently. "I need to help his mother with the second one."
And so, as Ginny resumed her work giving birth to her second son, Draco had received the most glorious present he could ever have hoped for. The boy fit almost perfectly in his father's large hand, but Draco held him so tightly that the child had started crying softly. Easing his hold but terribly worried about dropping him, the new patriarch had calmed down as soon as the whimpering stopped. Speaking gentle, incoherent words to the child, he had then turned a watchful eye toward his wife.
Somehow, she had summoned enough strength to bring her second child about. Drenched in sweat, laughing and panting and crying, she had welcomed both babies against her, not even noticing when the midwife severed their umbilical cord and gave them a quick wash. Within a few seconds, both boys had found their rightful place, their little mouths latching onto her breasts so naturally that mother and sons were immediately appeased. Ginny had fallen asleep then, Draco standing but inches away from her and eyeing his offspring like an overly fond hawk, while the old woman discreetly left the room.
Draco had dozed off at some point and his head now rested on Ginny's lap. Ginny tried to chuckle but was too tired to do even that; she would also have risked awakening her two little boys, precariously nested within her arms and breasts, and she was loathe to do that. Gently, she let her hands run on their smooth skin, marvelling at how soft and precious they were. She smiled upon noticing their white blond hair, fairer still than their father's, and she knew he was probably pleased by the fact. As though awakened by her very thoughts, Draco stirred and slowly opened his eyes. He was disoriented at first, like Ginny had been, but he lost no time in finding his bearings and looking up, his eyes finding hers like magnets the North Pole.
"Hey," he whispered.
"Hi."
"How are you feeling?" he asked, carefully sitting, his gaze full of concern.
"Thirsty."
He summoned a cup and pressed it cautiously against her lips. She drank from it greedily.
"This tastes amazing," she said,
"The midwife said you would be parched when you woke up," he explained as he reset it next to the divan. "She left this for you."
"I feel better already," Ginny confirmed, though this may have stemmed more from the utter happiness she read in Draco's eyes than from the actual drink.
She had never seen him like this, so attentive and unguarded at the same time, as though the birth of their children had broken whatever obstacles remained between them and allowed him to transcend his usual circumspection. She knew this was temporary, of course, that come morning he would be the Draco Malfoy she loved but often misunderstood, but the moment they shared was the strong confirmation of the rightfulness of their choices. He kneeled by her side once again, placing his hand against her cheek. The shadows around them shifted slowly, blue and purple like the spectre of dawn, undulating between the carved columns.
"You are so beautiful."
She snickered.
"Yes, and I really believe you."
Draco rolled his eyes and tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear.
"You are. Despite the rings under your eyes and the fact that you look like -"
"You should be more respectful of the mother of your children," she snapped good-naturedly.
"I am."
He looked so pious and repentant that she guffawed outright this time, and the tremor or the sound of her full-throated laugh awoke one of the boys. Without even bothering to cry, he glued his little hand to her breast and affixed his lips to it, taking greedy gulps at once. His eyes hadn't even opened.
"This one's a trouble-maker," Draco said, looking fondly at the gluttonous babe. "Bellowed as soon as he had enough air in his lungs, and griped until he was set on your left breast. It appears to be his favourite."
"It's yours, too," Ginny pointed out cheekily, and Draco had the good grace to look remotely contrite. "Ow. You're a strong little one," she cooed to the unperturbed child.
"Then he should be Valerian."
As soon as Draco had uttered those words, a silver smoke slid from his mouth and wrapped around the child, enveloping him in a platinum aura that vanished promptly thereafter.
"And that makes you Aurelian," Ginny said, turning to the twin that still slept peacefully.
She was surprised when a golden smoke snaked past her lips and enfolded her other son in a coppery shimmer.
"A Gryffindor and a Slytherin, eh?" she whispered, amused.
"I don't think it's as simple as that, love," Draco said as he crouched next to her once again. "But then again, you Gryffindors understand nothing about subtlety and the sacred nature of things."
Ginny shrugged.
"Puritan," she hissed.
"Plebeian."
Manoeuvring carefully so that neither of her sons were jostled by her movements, she lightly slapped Draco on the back of his head. He caught her hand and placed the other one around her, further securing the babies' positions on their mother's stomach.
"You know, despite your horrid habits and commoner's prejudices, I love you."
"You could have done without the disclaimer."
"We don't do wholehearted, teary-eyed, disclaimer-free emotion."
"Guess you'll just have to learn, then," Ginny said, smiling brightly. "Draco, I love you."
"And I, you."
They turned their eyes to their twin sons as the rising sun's glow highlighted the ivory of their skin. Valerian had fallen asleep again, but not without nudging his brother, whose sole response was a yawn. Ginny smiled, hoping that the Malfoy genes would temper the destructive tendencies of Weasley twins. She closed her eyes. Draco, lost in the contemplation of the three beings that meant most to him, let the soothing rhythm of their synchronized breathing lull him into a sense of peace. The new day ate away at the temple's remaining shadows, coating the sleeping family with light and hope.
THE END
(1) Nepthys was the sister of goddess Isis. She helped her revive Isis' husband, Osiris, after he had been killed by Seth; the goddesses used their wings to provide him with a new breath of life.
(2) According to Wikipedia, an aria is "an expressive melody, usually, but not always, performed by a singer. The term is now used almost exclusively to describe a self-contained piece for one voice usually with orchestral accompaniment" and a brindisi is "a song in which a company is exhorted to drink."
(3) The information about these plants comes from: http://www.gardenguides.com/plants/info/herbs/preg.asp
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