Hesperides' Apple
Chapter 8
Draco's fingers tapped restlessly on the pile of reports he had received during the past week. A few looks at the numbers had sufficed to assure him that the various companies he owned could not fare well for themselves without his unwavering attention and leadership. The Cleansweep factories would have to close permanently in response to workers' displays of violence. Draco groaned, knowing he should have invested in Nimbus earlier-his trying to accommodate Sevskin had merely resulted in unnecessary loss of capital and no recovery on Cleansweep's part.
He pushed the file off the pile, grabbed a second one. Down by 26.4%... fierce competition… cannot face… new type of demands… He took another file, annoyed to see similar numbers, costs risings, benefits tumbling down, the Luna Nevilum increasingly impotent, the MCCD's results inconsistent, and newly passed international laws preventing him from reacting efficiently to the multiple debacles.
"Mirabella," he called.
A woman whose face disappeared between her curly brown hair and enormous glasses opened the door.
"I'll need coffee," Draco snapped, bent over an open file.
Share-holders want to know… Demand 3.5% raise… hesitant to invest in… millions of galleons… Belgium Minister of Economy…
There was a soft knock on the door, to which he responded with a grunt. Mirabella walked in, carrying a porcelain tea-cup. She set it on his desk, then exited the room. Draco flipped a few additional pages, jotting notes as he did so. His hand snaked out to the coffee, which he drained in one quick gulp. The cup disappeared with a `pop'.
Draco kept going through the files during the entire day. Occasionally he would snap a richly carved lighter open, click until the flame sprang from it, and demand to speak to Mr. Sevskin, or Darley, or Narguilian. Mirabella came by regularly to provide Lord Malfoy with his dose of caffeine. Somehow, even that could not brighten his mood, and he grew increasingly sullen and restless as he drifted through stack after stack of letters, documents, and account sheets.
By the time six rolled around, Draco had to restrain himself from using the lighter to ignite the remaining files, which formed a trembling tower on the left corner of his desk. He pushed his chair back, stood up, and Apparated. After the initial dizziness had dispelled, he walked straight out of his study, leaving the green leather and sepia wood behind. He climbed the steps four by four and paced toward the third floor. He found the master bedroom empty, its dark blue velvets and gold lusterless without Ginevra's presence. He walked down to her old room, knowing she often preferred its airy coolness to the royal decoration of the principal bedroom. But she wasn't there, nor was she in her atelier.
"Grainne!" he roared, feeling the frustration build up inside him.
Today was not the right day for Ginny to be off at some tea party or helping incapacitated imbeciles at St. Mungo's. The ghost servant quickly materialized before him, humbly keeping her eyes to the floor.
"Where is Ginevra?"
"She went for a picnic, Master," Grainne murmured.
A picnic? Of course… There are tables, chairs, divans, sofas, counters, stools, but she would rather eat on the ground.
"I suppose she's outside?" Draco asked, unfamiliar with the very notion of a picnic.
"Yes, Master, in the forest by the stream, I believe."
On murky ground. Even better… He thought darkly. On any given day, he would have waited for her to come back. He was, however, particularly in need of her soothing presence, of this inexplicable calm that invaded him every time she was near. There were days when she was sparkly and bright, fun like champagne, and others when she was serene, attentive, and concerned, but she was always, always comforting. He was growing to believe that this was his main reason for marrying her-that and, of course, the fact that she surrendered so willingly to his seductive propositions.
Draco headed for the room where the brooms were stored. He mounted his Nimbus 3000, murmuring as he did so, "Reperio Ginevra" (1). From his wand shot a small, silver arrow. It whizzed across the grounds and into the woods, the trace of its passage like a thread of metal in the air. The sun still illuminated the trail, and Draco followed it, his progress unhurried as he reached the woods. He flew swiftly between trees and below branches, slowing down when he heard the rippling whisper of the brook. He ducked as an owl nearly took his head off when diving past him. It landed on the floor next to neatly folded robes. Draco stopped, hidden by the foliage, and watched Ginny's head emerge from the water.
"Hey, Nabuchodonosor, (2)" she said. "Do you have something for me?"
The owl hooted but shook its head. Ginny laughed, muttered, "Oh alright, you lazy bird," and sat up. Draco's eyes bulged. She stood up, twisting water out of her hair, and rivulets spilled down her round breasts and soft belly, converging at the V of her joined thighs. A jolt of desire shot through Draco as he wondered which Slytherin value, lust or curiosity, he should give in to. He opted for spying, despite his body's vehement protestations and increasingly obvious signals. Ginny had reached the bank and untied the parchment from the owl's claw.
G.
Glad to hear you are doing well. That Brazilian island must have been fun! Did you by any chance spot some Brigadeiros (3) trees? I hear their fruits are the best cure against depression and heart break! Nothing's changed at the Bank; my work is dreadfully boring. Somehow, they figured out I knew more about their bank than they do, despite my having been there only a few months, and are excitedly pushing me up the ladder. I'll spare you the technical stuff, but I assure you that stock-markets, rates of exchange, and currencies are not nearly as complicated as Arthur used to think, or as these people here believe.
On the other hand, all of this has greatly helped me to deal with our problem. I've been asking around, and I've discovered a few suspicious companies here and there. I'll bet you anything that Hortensius Jellylegs is not a Muggle (with a name like that, how could he be?), but he's one of our bank's main clients. Guess who else he works with? None other than your beloved husband.
(How's that going by the way? Please tell me you've been using that spell I showed you.)
I've been doing what I can, and since I am now a counselor for more than one influential CEO (presidents of Muggle companies), I've been making sure that Hortensius Jellylegs and other people involved with Malfoy encounter financial difficulties. It's nothing big yet, but I'm working on it.
Hang in there with all those tea-time hags. I'm sure you'll get your point across very easily with them, which means that it will soon be across all the Wizarding world as well. Take care of yourself.
With love,
--H.
Contentment washed over Ginny as she read Hermione's letter. Draco, by the other side of the stream, wondered whose letter could bring such happiness to his wife. He immediately conceived a startlingly sharp jealousy, but he hushed it. Maybe it was from Leo Lestrange, or Diggory's daughter. He knew for sure it didn't come from the Parkinson, Zabini, or Silverspring families, having met all of their owls through extensive correspondence with their daughters. He scowled.
Ginny conjured a quill and piece of parchment and, laying flat on her stomach, she began to write. Draco let his eyes roam over the hills formed by her bum and shoulders, between which nestled the valley of her back and then, further down, her legs' soft slopes. It didn't take her long to write the letter.
"Nabuchodonosor," she called, extending an arm to the owl. "Come here." She attached the parchment to its paw. "Thank you."
The bird stepped nimbly on its claws, then spread its wings open and took off. As it zoomed past Draco, he swished his wand, thinking, "Stupefy". The bird stopped mid-air. Draco unraveled the parchment from the hovering owl.
H.
I haven't heard anything new since we came back from Brazil. I'll keep you posted if more comes up, though. I'm learning more about Draco; I don't really know what to think anymore. Don't worry, though.
Send your next owl on Monday, in the afternoon. I'll be at the MCCD with Lorelei Prewett, she won't tell a soul.
Love always,
G.
Draco, incapable of making anything of the letter, committed it to memory. Once the scroll was tucked in Nabuchodonosor's claws again, he Ennervated the owl and turned back to his wife. She was laying down still, face flat on the ground, trying to get a nonplussed butterfly on the reed in her hand. Draco waited a few minutes, amused by her silly game, concerned by the letter. When he thought he could walk in on her without her suspecting that he had seen the exchange of letters, he stepped out of the shadow. She looked up, startled. She smiled like a child who has obtained candy.
"You're home early," she said, putting her weight on her elbows.
"Actually, it's a little bit later than six o'clock," he said.
He walked toward her and squatted so that his face loomed over hers. She arched her neck to look at him.
"Then I guess I'm late," she observed.
"I believe so."
"Now how, oh how, could I make it up to you?" she said teasingly.
"Well, you could make it down to me," he said, kneeling.
She laughed and began unbuttoning his pants as he pressed her lips against his.
***
Draco, his eyes closed, his arm around Ginny, had been listening. Her breathing became softer like it usually did, but it lacked the slow regularity she displayed when sleeping. So he listened, patiently, attentively, for the moment when she would get up.
And then she did. She pushed his arm back ever so gently and stepped down from the bed. Draco opened his eyes. Naked, she stood in plain sight. She had gotten her wand and directed it toward her belly, but hesitated for a second. A look of sadness and determination crossed her face, dulled by the moonlit night. "Contraceptio," Ginny murmured. She winced when the spell, as if sucked in by her navel, crept into her stomach. It glowed a purplish red for a few seconds.
She walked back to the bed, and Draco, having closed his eyes, felt her slide between his arms. He gave her a tight, seemingly sleepy hug. Ginny did not return it. She pressed a kiss on his shoulder, her wet cheek leaving a trail of tears on his skin. After a while, she fell asleep.
***
Blaise Zabini rose from his seat, pulling back his date's chair as he did so. She smiled brightly at the Malfoys, her face a peach with a hint of stolen sunlight.
"Draco, Ginevra," Zabini began unctuously, "this is Shehzin Mohammad. Darling…" Draco's eyebrow quirked up at the term of endearment. "Draco and Ginevra Malfoy."
The women exchanged quick pecks. Draco helped Ginny with her seat while Zabini, hidden by the table, caught Shehzin's fingers between his own and pressed them tenderly. They were sitting by one of the rectangular, lotus-lit ponds. Above them, hoisted on three marble steps, loomed a dark Buddha, its arms and belly round, its face the very picture of metal made serenity. Copper lanterns hung from wooden panels and bamboo, throwing indented shadows on the customers and elegant waitresses.
"This is a very nice place," Ginny said, her eyes voraciously roaming their surroundings. "Good choice, Blaise."
He looked around him as if surprised to discover a tastefully Eastern decor.
"Well, yes, of course. I mean, thank you," he quickly amended when Shehzin's knee connected with his thigh. "The food's particularly delicious."
"That's what he always says, no matter where we go," Shehzin said conspiratorially.
"That's because I have marvelous taste, very high standards and, luckily, am also extremely generous," Blaise sniffed.
The remark elicited a smirk from Draco. Ginny and Shehzin laughed at the dark-skinned wizard, whose eyes shone with catlike merriment.
"Mesdames, messieurs, what can I get you as an appetizer?" the maitre d'hotel interrupted.
Their drinks were brought to them in tall, gold-rimmed, crystal glasses. A sip of Mojito launched Blaise into the most elaborate and sarcastic portrait of the witches two tables from theirs. Ginny watched, wide-eyed, as he unveiled their raunchiest secrets coldly, with surgical precision. Shehzin smiled, hovering between uneasiness and indulgence.
"So tell us, Blaise," Draco cut in as Blaise got ready to attack the following table. "We haven't heard from you since my wedding, and all of a sudden you pop up, suggest we catch dinner, and show up with a striking young woman." Blaise's arm closed protectively around Shehzin, and Ginny gave her husband a guarded look. "Don't worry, I have no plan to steer Shehzin away from you; my own wife has me too entranced for my thoughts to even wander that way," Draco smirked. "I do, however, know you are up to something, and since we are old friends, I would rather you cut the Slytherin crap and tell me what's on your mind."
Zabini roared with laughter. Then, to both Ginny and Draco's surprise, he announced, "Shehzin and I are getting married."
The young woman's eyes sparkled with happiness. Blaise fervently pressed her hand to his lips.
"Draco, you perceive too much for your own good," Blaise conceded. "Mother and Serafina both met Shehzin and they certainly didn't see it coming."
"This may be because it's only been a few months," Shehzin said. Her voice was rich like honey. "I suppose they will be surprised," she added thoughtfully. "It really is a short time to-"
"Nonsense," Blaise interrupted petulantly. Draco was convinced he had never seen his friend so enthralled, except perhaps when he had been declared Great Britain's second most handsome young bachelor, after Draco.
"You know," Ginny said, "in Great Britain, witches and wizards often marry rapidly, and the marriages last. It's quite different for Muggles." Draco and Blaise shot her a similarly sharp glance. "But I guess the magic makes it easier to know when it's the right choice. For example, Draco and I got married after a month of knowing each other. As to whether it was the right choice, however, that may be up for discussion," she finished impishly.
"No Lady Malfoy has ever regretted her choice," Draco said. "Or regretted it and lived," he added, looking into Ginny's eyes, his face an inch from hers.
Ginny's heart skipped a beat.
He knows, her mind shrieked.
A flash of amusement crossed Draco's eyes and he smiled wolfishly, then claimed her mouth in such a gentle yet domineering manner than Ginny did not know what to make of his comment. Blaise and Shehzin were laughing pleasantly.
"So, where did you two meet?" Draco asked after he had let go of Ginny's lips.
"Ah, Draco, always asking the right questions," Blaise sighed.
"In Dhaka (4)," Shehzin said. "I was at the market buying cloth for my older sister's wedding-she was not allowed out for a month before the ceremony-and some Muggle on his bicycle nearly ran into me." Ginny heard no repugnance in Shehzin's words. "I stepped aside, tripped, and would have fallen had Blaise not caught me. Pretty lame, isn't it?"
"But it was love at first sight," Blaise said emphatically, devouring Shehzin with his eyes. "So I spent a few weeks in the area, came back for your wedding, then returned to Dhaka. Like you said, Ginevra, it must be magic, but I had never thought my heart could be captured so brutally and completely by anyone, and it was."
He gave Shehzin a look of fierce passion, which she returned at least as intensely. Ginny, who had endured Ron and Hermione's lovey-dovey instants, Bill and Fleur's relationship at its most dramatic moments, and even her parents' dubious nicknames, found herself somewhat uneasy.
That's what living with Draco Malfoy will do to you, she thought. I doubt his parents were ever so explicitly in love.
Had she turned to Draco at that moment, she would have seen that, far from being uncomfortable, he was gazing at her, curiosity in the gray of his irises. "Captured so brutally and completely," he mused. This is precisely it. The maitre d'hotel dropped by and took their order.
"So, when is the wedding planned for?" Ginny enquired.
"Well, I have to go back to Dhaka to break the news to my parents. I'm not quite sure how they'll take it," Shehzin continued, and for the first time that evening, her glorious smile faltered.
"Don't worry. We'll convince them," Blaise said smoothly.
His tone was confident, but there was a business-like quality to it which Draco immediately perceived. He had heard it when Blaise told him of Serafina getting in trouble, of the Zabini Corporation's wavering finances, or the many times they had plotted, together, the downfall of some particularly arrogant Slytherin. Draco wondered exactly how much convincing their union would require. He promised himself to make sure Blaise obtained what he wanted-and if in the process Draco earned a favor, then it would be all the better.
"So, how do you occupy your days?" Ginny asked Shehzin. "We haven't seen you around at tea parties-" There was no mistaking her derision for solemnity. "-or fundraising events."
"I just arrived a few days ago," Shehzin explained. "Blaise appeared to imply that there isn't much to do around here, which I sincerely doubt. As to making acquaintances, `The Malfoys are the only ones you need to know'. Wasn't that what you said, darling?"
Ginny laughed, looking like she couldn't agree more with Blaise's first statement. The dark-haired Slytherin, unabashed, smirked modestly.
"Blaise is right in both regards," Draco said with a confident grin. "Unfortunately, no witch can marry one of our wizards without having gained approbation from the ladies of our most ancient families. Well, you could," he corrected, and a small smile lingered on his lips, "but they would make you regret it sorely. Ginevra, maybe you could introduce Shehzin to Pansy and the lot of these harp-"
"Women of high society," Ginny interrupted. "But yes, I'd be delighted to take you around. I mean, it isn't much fun," she added conspiratorially, "but the baking sales are often worth it, and sometimes you even meet interesting people. Not that Serafina isn't interesting, of course."
"Oh, I'm sure she'll come around, eventually. She's still bitter about Draco, though," Blaise said.
"Who isn't?" the primary concerned asked.
"Well, I suppose Georgiana and Millicent are the only two of the lot you haven't dated so," Blaise observed.
"You dated Cecilia Lestrange?" Ginny said, aghast, as Draco moaned.
"I don't think `dating' accurately describes my relationship with any of these women, except perhaps Vivian and Serafina."
"Well, it seems like it's the proper way of putting it," Shehzin said, her tone innocent, her insinuation less so.
Blaise laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he did so. Draco was mildly amused, but turned to see Ginny pouting. Seeing his eyes on her, she quickly smiled, but he saw how the lines of her face remained sharp throughout the rest of the evening. Her lips, when not distorted by speech or laughter, would close tightly, their arch subtly drooping toward her chin. Though it pained him to see her miffed, a small, exquisitely Malfoy joy burned in him at the thought of her jealousy. Four stunning young women, dressed in coppery veils, brought their plates to the table. A series of waiters complemented the dishes with various sorts of spices and sauces,
When Shehzin told Ginevra of her volunteering regularly in an orphanage in the vicinity of Dhaka, the two women began discussing their experience working with children. Blaise gazed fondly at his fiancee, then turned to Draco. He was surprised to see affection in the way he looked at his wife. Lucius had never been particularly demonstrative, and Draco, even for one who knew him as well as Blaise did, was not easy to read.
"Father told me times were tough," Blaise said, keeping his voice low so as not to interrupt the women's conversation. Draco smiled, neither acknowledging nor denying his friend's remark.
"You know, Blaise, for a Slytherin, you are particularly direct."
"Only with you," Blaise said without hesitation. "Because you know me well enough to not believe me should I lie, and well enough to know why I'm lying, about what, and to which extent. Being direct is just a way to feed you the information you want and avoid your wrath."
He spoke jokingly, but they both knew this to be the exact truth.
"The broom industry is a mess," Draco said, swirling his wine glass indolently. "Competition from Asia and South American is diminishing the value of brooms, and that is not a nice turn of events for good, old English brooms. What's particularly problematic, though-" Draco's using the word "problematic" was equivalent to anyone else saying "nerve-wracking", "mind-boggling", "suicide-inducing". "-is the Belgian Minister of Economy's new decisions."
"Head of the European Wizarding Confederation?" Blaise asked. Ginny's eyes quickly darted to the men. She began paying less attention to Shehzin's explanation of the Bangladeshi schooling system.
"That's him. The tax rates and new laws are so intricate that this is going to paralyze many countries for a while. I'm going to have to figure out how to bypass them, because making do is too problematic. You should see how much they want to impose me for distribution of the Luna Nevilum antidote! It's ridiculous."
"It's no longer as efficient, is it?" Blaise asked.
"No, but it still works to a certain degree. It's better than nothing, at least, but the French Delegation of Health and Institute of German Potions and Antidotes will not hear of it anymore. Their blindness is appalling."
"What are you going to do about it?"
"A number of the Malfoy labs are researching an alternate antidote, of course. In fact, it would appear that mistletoe has interesting properties in that respect." Then his face darkened as he added, "In the meantime, I fear I may have to wield the usual Malfoy weapons against these imbeciles."
"Charm, sex, and debauchery?"
"Corruption and intimidation," Draco said, smiling diabolically.
Ginny didn't lose a parcel of the words exchanged between them. Blaise looked up and caught Lady Malfoy's golden eyes flashing with what looked like greed. He saw her turn to Shehzin and answer that she had attended Durmstrang, a school located in Bulgaria, proving that she had been listening to their conversation without ignoring his fiancee. Blaise then turned to Draco, who was eyeing his wife coolly. A small smile crept to his lips when Ginny began talking animatedly about Durmstrang.
"You see, everyone always thought that Durmstrang focused solely on the Dark Arts, and that its students were bound to become evil, power-seeking wizards. Which isn't to say that a number of them didn't, but I think that the leaders of the school willingly fostered these rumors to better dissimulate what we were actually being taught."
"And that would be?" Blaise said. She flashed him a defiant smile.
"If I told you, it would defy the purpose, wouldn't it?"
"Ancient magic," Draco said lazily. "They're trained since their first year to do wandless magic, preferably without any incantation, even if it's merely thought."
"How does it work, then?" Shehzin asked.
"You analyze," Ginny gave in to the other woman's curiosity, "and understand what you are going to do, or the object you're about to transform. Everything has a name; a name so old that it is the same, regardless of the area of the world you're in. You think the name, feel the name, and in a way you become the object. Then you can do with it whatever you please."
Draco and Blaise listened intently.
"I was never very good at it, though. I suppose I learned too late," she added, lost in her thoughts. "Transfiguration, Charms, Potions without a wand, they just never revealed their secrets to me. But people, now that was another matter."
"Legilimency?" Draco asked, a calculating look on his face. She saw it.
"No, not people's thoughts. Their bodies, though; the cells and systems that we are made of, how they interact, merge, divide, I understood better. I quickly perceived human relations and hierarchies. That definitely helped me. You see, at Durmstrang you had to be tough without being violent. It was all about unspoken power. So, at first, of course, students tried to- er-evaluate me."
An unhappy grimace twisted her features for a second.
"Luckily, my brothers had taught me a few particularly nasty hexes, and that kept people at bay. Things worked out better when I showed that, and though I could definitely inflict some damage, I was much better at mending it."
"Ah, a potential Medi-witch?" Blaise asked.
Draco shot him a dark look. Malfoy women did not have a job.
"I guess that's the closest approximation there is," Ginny acknowledged, "though as I said, my healing capacities were beyond-or below-the use of spells and potions. I also like to think that care helps a lot. Which is why-" She gave Draco a pointed look. "-I regularly visit the children of the MCCD."
"With great success, might I add," Draco said proudly. "Leo Lestrange went back to his family a few days ago, having demonstrated consistent mastery of his magical skills."
Ginny snorted.
"Mark my words: with the family he has, he will be back in a few weeks, if not days."
"Oh?" Draco raised an eyebrow teasingly. "Is it a bet?"
"It's a certitude," she retorted, eyeing him levelly. A wicked smile lit her face as he kissed her hand, sealing their bet with skin contact.
"Were you happy at Durmstrang?" Shehzin asked unexpectedly.
Ginny turned wary eyes to the woman. Draco saw her long fingers wrap around her napkin and press it.
"Not always."
"I suppose you missed your family?" Blaise asked innocently, keenly awaiting her reaction.
"They died," Ginny said flatly. "It was-an accident."
"I'm sorry," Blaise said as Shehzin gasped compassionately.
Draco saw the crumpled napkin in her nervous hand, and for some reason he doubted that it had been a mere accident.
(1) From the Latin, "reperio" which means "to find".
(2) Nabuchodonosor II was king of Babylon from 605 to 561 BC
(3) Brigadeiros are Brazilian treats made of sweetened condensed milk, butter and Nesquik. They are the most delicious, sugary, and fattening things ever invented by man.
(4) Dhaka is the capital of Bangladesh. You may rightfully assume that Shehzin is Bangladeshi.
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