Hesperides' Apple
Chapter 5
Ginny awoke when the heat became unbearable. She was buried in Draco's bed, the golden sunlight around her slowly turning the room into a furnace. She pushed back the covers and ran to the window, opening it to let some air flow.
Having no neighbors has its advantages, she though, prancing about stark-naked. She discovered a yellow lily on the pillow next to hers and smiled. Whenever Draco could not stay in bed in the morning, which was more often than not, he had started leaving her flowers. The morning after a particularly dull and painful dinner at the Averys', she had found a string of pearls intertwined in the leaves of an iris. The following week, an amber bracelet had rewarded her patience with Pansy, after the former Slytherin had monopolized Draco during a dance at her manor. But when at one cocktail party Ginny had staved off boredom by chatting with the increasingly sympathetic Blaise Zabini, she had found neither Draco nor a flower in bed the subsequent morning. She had laughed a lot and made it up to Draco that same evening.
After the night spent in Draco's room, Ginny invariably returned to her own apartments. She managed to divide her time between St. Mungo's and MCCD's children, gardening under Narcissa's half-disgusted, half-intrigued gaze, painting, reading, and taking incredibly long baths. Her evenings were usually booked, whether to have dinner with Draco or to attend some reception here or there. And, of course, Pansy Parkinson invited her regularly to tea, and the hours spent at her house were the bane of Ginny's existence.
Ginny had seen the last week of the one-month trial begin without fear. She was pretty certain that Draco had no complaints regarding her conduct and abilities. What she could not deem, however, was whether he cared enough for her to marry her. In particular, his having restrained himself from sleeping with her was puzzling.
Her eyes are closed but syrupy giggles stream from her lips. He bites her ear, then her cheek, while his fingers dance inside her. Between two sighs of pleasure she lets her hand run on his lean shoulders and smooth torso, on his iliac spine and on the length of his erection. His breath hitches in his throat, his fingers grow restless as she caresses him. Her legs knotted around his back, she presses him feverishly against her.
For a second he lifts his hips from her, and despite the veil of desire obscuring her eyes, she sees what he's doing. Of course, she thinks, and subtly braces herself. But he perceives the faint hesitation, and though he doesn't understand it, since she clearly is no longer a virgin, he lowers himself and guides her hand to him again. Surprised, she gives him a searching look. His eyes are closed. She watches his pleasure mount as she fondles him, still unsure of his reason for sparing her a moment she dislikes, not knowing that he will continue to do so the subsequent nights.
Even more alarming than this lack of certainty were her own feelings. Ginny knew herself too well to think them harmless and without consequence, yet she resolutely smothered them. She could not, however, prevent a jolt of glee from rippling through her when she found a note on her bed head.
"Lunch at one. Southern terrace."
Draco Malfoy, epitome of shortness, she thought mockingly. But they hadn't eaten together in little less than a week, and she grudgingly had to admit that she had missed their conversations. So Ginny disappeared in her closet, only to emerge half an hour later with satisfying clothes. Time in the bathroom took her nearly twice as long, but by the time one o'clock rolled by, she was ready, looking fresh and lively in a cerulean summer dress.
"Hello," Ginny said, finding Draco already installed at the terrace table.
"Hello," he said somewhat huskily.
He stood up and kissed her in what she could almost have described as "a tender way". As usual, he pulled her chair back to help her sit, and then sat facing her.
"So, how have you been?" he asked.
"Lonely," she replied, without a trace of feeling or resentment. He acknowledged the fact.
"Things have been particularly hectic lately, not that it is a rare occurrence. The Cleansweep factory workers in Manchester are annoyed by the measures we've taken." Annoyed was an understatement for the riots that had erupted. "The media have published proof of corruption in various departments of the Ministry, and the vaccines of the Harpy Pox are apparently no longer effective against the mutating virus. Dealing with all of this at the same time is… impractical."
Ginny leaned forward, clearly interested.
"The Luna Nevilum doesn't work anymore?"
"Not nearly as well as it used to. More and more wizards are becoming immune to the vaccine."
"And you had invested in said vaccine?" she asked innocently.
"A lot, at least in the eyes of the common people. The Malfoy fortune could easily bear the loss, but it was quite a source of revenue. Not to mention of prestige. Saving the lives of children, preventing adults from developing alarming sequels… Oh yes, I did invest in it."
"And the corruption scandal…?"
"Irvin Rosier, Geoffrey Gamp, and Jason Burke were appointed, thanks to my father's support, about a year ago. Rosier (from the Goblin Liaison Office) and Burke (he was part of the International Magic Trading Standards Body) have been fiddling with laws and blackmailing people, and earning quite an amount of Galleons in the process. Not only is this not good for the Ministry's image and finances, but it also reflects on the Malfoy name."
"What about Gamp?"
"Pedophilia. Muggles. He'd Obliviate them after, but the shock and the spell left the kids broken, and Aurors managed to figure it out."
Ginny's eyes went blank with anger and disgust.
"What is the punishment?"
"One year in Azkaban. Rosier and Burke, on the other hand, are facing somewhere between two to five years, plus fine-and believe me, it's going to be quite a fine."
"One year? One?"
"Well, yes. For tampering with non-Magical elements. It's not that big a deal, just thoroughly disgusting."
Draco saw mute fury in the way Ginevra's lips tightened and her hands suddenly contracted. He was chilled by how easily the hate that twisted her features then vanished. A sweet, albeit pensive, smile was again on her lips.
"Of course."
"And how's gardening coming along?" Draco, surprised to find himself uncomfortable, changed the topic.
"Lovely, although Narcissa had to threaten the elves so that they wouldn't bury themselves alive, or throw themselves on their shovels… Even though I explained them I had charmed the shovels, that this wouldn't be tiring, that a simple Aguamenti would water everything, they would not let me do it!"
Draco smiled dismissively as James appeared and asked them what they would have for lunch. Ginny, apparently distracted, was caught off guard. Draco offered to order for her, and she agreed. A veil of unspoken words seemed to fall between them.
"I was planning on hosting a reception a week from now. Would that inconvenience you?" Draco asked.
"No, of course not." Ginny immediately had that businesslike look about her that comforted Draco in his decision. "Which day?"
"Thursday evening."
"Who should I send invitations to?"
"Don't worry about that, the servants will take care of it."
"And in what honor?"
Draco smiled enigmatically. At that moment, a swan flew over the balcony and landed at Ginny's side. She was surprised not to have seen it earlier. It deposited the little box of ebony it carried in its beak on the table before Ginny. She gave Draco an inquisitive glance, but he was as impassible as ever. She flipped the box open.
It contained a white gold ring, simply nested in black velvet. Delicately carved tentacles ensnared a diamond flanked by two smaller ones. Ginny gaped, then looked at Draco, her eyebrows knitted in confusion
"Will you marry me?" he asked, as if enquiring about the weather.
"But you already-"
"Yes, technically, I already bought you," he interrupted her, his voice carrying a cutting edge. She winced but knew that he was merely calling a spade a spade. "But I don't want a wife who may have realized she did not want to become Mrs. Malfoy, or who will never stop thinking of herself as a purchased good."
He has principles? Ginny wondered, an unexpected warmth curling in her breast.
"So I give you the choice, and ask you again: will you marry me?"
An awkward emptiness was stuck in his throat.
"Yes," she said. "Thank you," she added.
"Not at all," he said calmly. He was glad to see he could keep a professional cool despite the relief her answer occasioned. A serene happiness washed through him. "The reception will be, as you will have guessed, in honor of our wedding."
"I'm not sure all your acquaintances will be very happy about this," she laughed brightly.
"Well, maybe Pansy will finally agree to marry Flint," Draco said, smiling.
He lifted his glass to her, and they toasted. Ginny, though unsettled by the methodical formality of his demand, relied on it to curb her bliss.
***
"Two weeks from now?" Ginny asked, aghast, the day of the reception. "But people will never be able to come over with such short notice!"
"Don't be ridiculous," Narcissa smirked. "This is a Malfoy wedding; people will find the time to come, or make it. Besides," she added, giving Ginny a meaningful glance, "I'm sure they saw it coming."
"I doubt it," Ginny retorted. Narcissa was stunned by the girl's impertinence. "Draco's had so many girlfriends before that they thought I was just another one."
"Oh no. They may have thought so at first, but the publicity you've been receiving proves they know something greater is at hand. Besides, people saw you dancing at the Rimbaud, and I think you should know that Draco has never spent the entire evening dancing with the same woman, even when he was accompanied by Vivian Silverspring or Serafina Zabini."
With that, Narcissa left Ginny to her preparations for the evening reception. The young woman cautiously dyed her hair before she took a bath, not wanting any particularly bitter witch to notice her faint, auburn roots. She had Grainne tie her hair in a complex chignon and, with one swish of her wand, adorned it with a black lily. She put on the gray silk dress, placed the Aquilo sapphires necklace around her neck, and sauntered to the mirror.
"You truly are dear Cissy's worthy successor," the mirror mused.
"Cissy?"
"Narcissa, of course. You should have seen her when she arrived, the poor precious. Such a delicate and timid, young woman, though with steel-strong principles, I'll tell you that."
"I'm sure," Ginny murmured. "But thanks-if that was a compliment…."
"A compliment? Darling, you look good enough to eat."
That's what he said, Ginny sniggered in silence. But somehow, she had to agree. The dress flattered her lanky silhouette, and its color highlighted the gold in her eyes and hair. She looked like the moment when the sun peaks through the clouds after a storm has unleashed its downpours. If only mum could see me now....
What Mrs. Weasley would think should she see her being in no way certain nor encouraging, Ginny didn't dwell further on the thought. She abandoned the thought and focused on the night ahead. Narcissa had helped her arrange the Manor for the event, though of course, the house elves had taken care of all the actual work. Ginny discovered that the first floor of the mansion could rearrange itself according to the type of celebration held. For the ball, the vestibule had elongated and grown stairs for the Malfoys to theatrically descend from; adjacent to the vestibule was the dining room, rendered huge and furnished with five tables of twenty place settings each; the dining room's doors then opened unto four ballrooms, three boudoirs, one smoking room, and one pool room. The aristocratically sober household had been embellished by numerous objects, mirrors, chandeliers, vases, and busts of impeccable taste.
Ginny was erring in the vestibule, awaiting their guests, when Grainne popped up against her.
"Does Miss need anything? Is Miss unsatisfied with the arrangement?"
"Errr-no, why?"
"Because Miss is here."
"Ah, yes. I'm just waiting for the people to arrive. Greet them, take their capes, you know…."
Grainne's face contorted in unspeakable shock.
"Oh no, Miss. Mistress Malfoy will greet the guests, Godfried, Gilbert, Garfield, and I will relieve them of their capes. You must wait for Master Malfoy, then you will both descend the stairs together, and then the evening will begin."
Ginny agreed, thinking how dreary it must be to be welcomed by ghosts and Narcissa alone. She had seen pictures of Lucius and Narcissa posing and had barely recognized her. Though high-maintenance and superciliousness were etched in every razor-sharp feature of Narcissa's face, happiness had made her glow. It seemed reasonable to assume that the death of her husband had taken all light and youth from Narcissa. Sometimes, though, when Ginny and she were in the garden together, Draco's future wife could almost see the ghost of cheerfulness flit across Narcissa's face. And though she was growing to appreciate the woman, she couldn't help but feel that Lucius' widow may have deserved the blow fate had dealt her.
Ginny sat on the highest step of the stairs, shrouded in the darkness of the corridor. That way she could listen to people's conversations as they arrived. She was strangely reminded of eavesdropping back at the Burrow. She took off her high-heeled sandals and waited. First came the Devenports, recognizable by the intolerable, high pitch of Mrs. Devenport's voice. The Parkinsons and Zabinis arrived soon after, and Ginny was not surprised to hear Narcissa greeting Catalina Zabini with great amiability. From what she understood, the two women had been to Hogwarts together before Zabini had run away with the DADA teacher at the time. The Notts were next, followed by the Silverspring, the Bullstrodes, the Crabbe, and the Prewetts. Ginny's heart did a double take upon hearing the name. Though her mother had been very close to her twin brothers, Fabian and Gideon, she had never mentioned any other relative. As far as Ginny was concerned, the Prewetts had disinherited Molly when she had eloped with Arthur, and that had been the end of it. The young woman was so lost in thought and in the hope that they would not be able to recognize her that she did not hear the smooth steps behind her.
"I've been looking for you," a deep voice murmured in her ear.
She started, the words echoing those repeated by the dark haired wizard whose high pitched, cold laugh and bloody eyes ruled her nightmares. But when a soft kiss fell on her shoulder, shortly followed by one in the neck, Ginny's sudden tension vanished and she leaned into Draco's embrace. One hand around her waist, he picked up her shoe with the other.
"Are you sure Cinderella wasn't your great-grandmother?"
Ginny giggled.
"No, but Comfortable is not those shoes' middle-name."
"Women…." Draco shrugged.
As he had a few weeks before, he took hold of her foot and placed it in the sandal. As he fastened its straps, however, he let one of his hands slide up Ginny's calf to her knee.
"Oh," she said, and the smile Draco had grown to adore bubbled at her lips. Every time he held her, or kissed her, or caressed her, he was sure to see that smile appear, often accompanied by a throaty chuckle.
His hand wandered higher up, discovering as he went that the cut of her dress enabled its folds to be pushed aside easily. She laughed, and the mellifluous sound broke his self-control. In an instant he was kneeling on the step below the one where she sat, had pushed her thighs apart, and pressed himself against her. She responded immediately, her hands in his hair, and her tongue in his mouth, one shoeless foot tracing patterns in the air.
"Ahem," a ghost servant Ginny had never seen coughed.
"What is it, Godfried?" Draco snapped as Ginny blushed and rearranged her dress.
"Mistress Malfoy says you may come down now," Godfried said, looking highly relieved to already be dead. Then he vanished.
"She said that, did she now," Draco purred, turning to Ginny and placing his hands on her hips again.
"Wha-I doubt she meant that," Ginny said, her cheeks now an unladylike shade of red.
"Hmmm come to think of it, you're probably right." He helped her up and gave her a long, demanding kiss. "Shall we?"
"We shall," she replied mockingly.
Ginny linked her arm through Draco's, hoping she didn't have any marks where he had kissed. She didn't think the guests would appreciate what could only be qualified as post- private display of affection. They walked down the steps casually, Draco's ease infusing her own movements with a cool grace. They reached the vestibule where their guests, used to the etiquette, awaited the arrival of the lord and lady of the house. Upon seeing Ginevra at Draco's arm, however, more than one whisper was heard; it was the first time one of his girlfriends had taken the place of Narcissa. Pansy, brighter than the Gryffindors had ever given her credit for, knew what to expect and emptied her glass hastily.
Draco and Ginny made their way from couple to couple, greeting, welcoming, enquiring about so and so's health, garden, or children. When Ginny was introduced to Hadrien and Sigrid Prewett, however, she did not miss the questioning look Hadrien gave her. Peering into honey-colored eyes that so resembled her own, she did not have to wonder why. She confidently overplayed her Bulgarian accent and haughtiness, and made sure she did not smile when scrutinized by Hadrien Prewett, for she knew her smiles were warm like Molly Weasley's had been.
Draco, meanwhile, utterly unaware of Ginny's tortured thoughts, made small talk with all wizards and witches present. Narcissa, between two discussions, threw surreptitious glances at the two. She had grown increasingly fond of Ginevra and of her feistiness, though more than once, she'd had the intuition that the young woman wasn't being entirely honest. The way she froze when near Hadrien Prewett, for one, made Narcissa wonder. Gradually, she managed to usher the guests toward the dining room, where they all found their seats and prepared themselves to savor dinner. After they had been seated, however, Draco rose, helping Ginny to her feet as well, and coughed. All eyes were soon upon him. Ginny wanted nothing more than to disappear.
"My friends, thank you for coming," Draco began, loud and clear. "It has been a while, I'm afraid, since the last dance at Malfoy Manor; I could not bring myself to make you wait any longer, and I hope you will find this night as enchanting as our past soirees, if not more. And while I'm on the topic of enchanting events and parties, I gladly invite you all to my wedding with Ginevra Vassil, two weeks from now. You will receive invitations of course. That being said, enjoy!"
He kissed Ginny on the temple as polite applause broke out, then they both sat down and dinner appeared. Ginny saw the looks of wonder on people's faces, attributing their stupefaction to the announcement being on such short notice. She did not understand that what truly surprised them, when it did not upset them, was the fact that Draco Malfoy, sole descendant of the prestigious Malfoy and Black families, was about to marry a woman emerged from nowhere a month before. Pansy Parkinson had finished her fifth glass of champagne. Draco let his gaze wander about the room, content with the reaction he had provoked. He had always enjoyed provocation, and Ginevra's being an instrument of it made her all the more lovable.
***
Narcissa and Ginny sat on a divan, watching the images that flashed before them in the center of the room. Narcissa groaned upon seeing yet another proposition of a "pink and white" marriage and banished the rose-cluttered decorations with one swish of her wand.
I bet mum would have loved pink and white for a wedding, Ginny thought bitterly. Thank Merlin Fleur had the courage to insist on having a "gold" wedding. It had been, of course, an admirable choice, as Fleur had never appeared so divine, and even Bill, despite the dark scars lacerating his face, had been radiant. Charlie had briefed Ginny on Slavic countries, Fred and George had found a delighted admirer in Gabrielle Delacour, and Molly Weasley had cried like a fountain. They had all acted so much like themselves, despite the increasingly bad tidings and constant news of death, and Ginny couldn't help but be grateful for that. Along with Christmas, Bill's wedding was the last time she had seen her family happily reunited.
"Ginevra?" Narcissa interrupted her reverie.
"Huh-yes?"
"What about a golden theme? I think it would be ideal for you and Draco. Not to mention that it could be absolutely superb. People would be talking about it for ages… And I know just what jewelry you could wear. What do you think?"
"Sure, why not?" Ginny said, hoping Narcissa would persist in her idea. Then her own wedding would be a tribute to her lost ones. How symbolic, she mused.
"Lovely, that's settled then," Narcissa told the woman who patiently stood behind them. "We'll take the gold wedding. Though I suppose your people will take care of everything, I want every decision to be approved by myself before anything is done. Is that clear?"
"Of course, Madam."
"Good. Have the invitations sent to Malfoy Manor, our personnel will send them. Now, about the location…."
They settled for Rivendell (1), the city once inadvertently discovered by a Muggle named Tolkien. The elven city had a number of pavilions spread out throughout the forest, and the elves gladly rented them to wizards looking for a magnificent setting. And Ginny understood Narcissa's choice when she saw the archways of glass suspended between the trees, the curtains of flowers and Chinese lanterns, mineral and vegetal combining to satisfy a wizard's most outlandish fantasies.
"Perfect," Narcissa said at last, sounding like she didn't mean it in a true display of Malfoy manner. "Come, Ginevra. We must find you a dress."
Ginny fought back the urge to groan. If finding her a wedding dress was half as bad as garnishing her wardrobe had been, then she was in for quite a nightmare. The Donkey Skin (2) salesclerk immediately recognized them and was at their side in a second. The word "wedding dress" was the magic key to the shop's third floor, where Ginny had to undress herself once again in front of the women's calculating looks.
"Well, I see things have progressed," Narcissa noted absentmindedly upon seeing Ginny's rather racy lingerie.
Ginny blushed, thrown off the beat by Narcissa's unpredictable behavior. The salesclerk ushered a number of boxes in the room.
"Does Madam have anything in mind?" she directly asked Narcissa.
"Yes, as a matter of fact I do. I'd like something curve-fitting-though she doesn't have too many, thank goodness-so it doesn't look like a Puffskein colony has taken up residence under her skirts. Also, not a bleach white dress; find me something that's off-white, or cream-white if you must, but not just white. Ginevra, dear, anything else?"
"Me? Oh no, no," Ginny said, letting herself be taken care of by Narcissa's Molly-like authority.
During the hour that followed, a succession of dresses laced, strapped, and wrapped around Ginny. Narcissa was extraordinarily picky and sent them all away without a second thought. At last, she found a dress that caught her interest. Off-white as she had requested it, it was a strapless silk dress that flared ever so slightly below the knee. An opening by the left knee revealed the delicately embroidered pettiskirt, which extended to the back to form a short train.
"Finally, something worth further attention," Narcissa sighed with relief. "However, this is still unsatisfactory. Who should I address myself to in order to make modifications to this dress?"
The sales woman stared at Narcissa as if she had just revealed she was Muggle- born.
"But, Madam, these are original creations-"
"Yes, I know that," Narcissa snapped coldly. "Is Donkey Skin in the vicinity?"
"I, uh, no-but we can contact her if you wish."
"Please do. If possible, tell her to come immediately. Tell her Narcissa Malfoy wishes to buy one of her dresses, but wants it arranged before she does so."
Ginny was shocked by Narcissa's attitude. As much as she liked the dress, even as it was, she hoped Donkey Skin would refuse; she could not imagine an original creation being tampered with by someone whose situation should not have allowed her such rudeness. They were served some tea as the salesclerk disappeared to make some calls.
"Do you like the dress, Ginevra?"
"Yes, it's really beautiful. I don't think it really needs-"
"Wait until you see what I have in mind," Narcissa stopped her. "I know that what I asked for is quite discourteous, but I can promise you it will be worth it. Besides," she added haughtily, "it's either that or we'll have your dress custom-made from head to toe."
Ginny could have sworn the assistants had heard, for soon after, the salesclerk returned.
"Madame Donkey Skin will be here in a moment," she said breathlessly.
"Marvelous," Narcissa said, giving the poor woman a contented smile.
A few minutes later, an incredibly old woman walked in the room. Her gray hair was tied in long tresses, her face a mangle of wrinkles amidst which burned two charcoal eyes. She was dressed soberly but impeccably, and even Ginny, with her limited knowledge of haute-couture, could tell that her robes had cost a small fortune.
"Madame Donkey Skin, I am very honored to meet you," Narcissa said.
"Hmm. Likewise, I suppose." Her voice quavered. "I have been told you wished to arrange the dress the girl is wearing?"
"That's right," Narcissa answered, unabashed. "I find it beautiful but too plain."
"You know, Mrs. Malfoy, sometimes plainness is more fashionable than lavishness."
Ginny, her face a mask of neutrality, was enjoying the discussion.
"I trust you to know that, but for my son's wedding I would rather go for lavishness."
"Your son-" Donkey Skin turned inquisitively to Ginny.
"That's my future daughter-in-law."
"Yes, I had guessed she couldn't be your own. The girl is too silent and modest for that."
Ginny repressed a smile.
"She is, and that will have to change. In the meantime, we are not here to discuss my son's choice of a bride. Perhaps we could discuss ameliorations enrichment of the dress together and see if we are both satisfied. I would, of course, pay double the price if that were the case."
An amused glint sparkled in Donkey Skin's eyes. The two women retreated to a corner of the room where Ginny saw Narcissa gesturing, Donkey Skin shaking her head, Narcissa agitating her hands some more until Donkey Skin, intrigued, nodded. The old woman brandished her wand and said, "Subrideo Tela". Creases formed at the sides of the dress, looking like half stars. Then she added, "Alba flora,"(3) and flowers of lace bloomed from the opening at the knee, lined with spidery, gold threads.
"Hmm," Donkey Skin grumbled. "Hum, hum, hummm…"
She shot a few extra spells at the dress, adding threads of gold to the train and conjuring a veil to sit on Ginny's head. Once she had adjusted it, she stepped back. Both Narcissa and Donkey Skin bore a look of triumph; Ginny knew better than to say anything.
"Perfect," Narcissa said, and this time Ginny heard the excitement in her voice.
"Yes, I have to admit you have an eye for details," Donkey Skin said. She bowed to Mrs. Malfoy, who bowed as well-Ginny had never seen her do so, especially not to a shop-owner, and the sight made her happy.
That day, they purchased matching shoes and visited a traiteur. Ginny, whose culinary understanding equaled Narcissa's, was finally able to give her opinion. Together they ordered food enough to feed an army, enlisting the aid of waiters, bartenders and cooks galore. Then they returned to the Manor.
"Tell me," Narcissa suddenly asked Ginny, "your mother is dead, isn't she?"
Shock made Ginny speechless. Had she been unmasked? Did Narcissa know who, exactly, was responsible for her mother and her family's death? Sadness brutally overcame her and she glared at Narcissa.
"Yes, I thought so," Narcissa continued. "No family jewelry?"
Relief coursed through Ginny. She shook her head. She hadn't been to Gringotts' Bank to claim her heritage and family possessions, unsure whether the Goblins' discretion would extend to someone as poor as herself.
"I'm sorry," Narcissa said, and Ginny did not know whether she was referring to her mother or jewelry. "I hope you will not be offended if I take the role that would have been your mother's and explain to you the specifics of the first ceremony."
"First ceremony?" Ginny asked, surprised.
"There is the event that we have been preparing for; everyone is invited to it. That is only the second ceremony. Only you and Draco will participate in the first. His father explained it to him when he came of age. I suppose your mother didn't have time to do the same with you."
That's right, Ginny thought angrily. And I have your family to blame for it. She managed a sheepish smile, however, and it took all her strength to thank Narcissa. Draco's mother brought Ginny to her room, where she began explaining the meaning and the steps of the Wizarding wedding ceremony.
(1) Much as I would have loved to invent Rivendell, this city is Tolkien's and Tolkien's alone. We are first introduced to it in The Fellowship of the Ring, first volume of the Lord of the Rings trilogy.
(2) Likewise, and I'm afraid I forgot to say so in the first chapters, Donkey Skin and her sun, moon, and rainbow-colored dresses are the fruit of Perrault's fantastic imagination.
(3) "Tela subrideo" from the Latin words, "subrideo" meaning smile and "tela" meaning cloth. I have not studied Latin, forgive me that I do not respect declinations. Likewise, "Alba flora" could be decomposed as "alba", meaning white, and "flora", flower.
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