Fallen Angel
Chapter 08
The second day after the full moon dawned to be a beautiful Tuesday, and Draco, despite how lousy he felt, was up and about in preparation for an excursion with the family out into the still reeling wizarding world where he doubted the day would be as peaceful as the lovely July weather promised.
"We will go to the wand shop first, right?" Clarissa said, having been up since five, already dressed, shoed, fed, and now waiting since five thirty. Draco was not a morning person, and he was not a fast start even on good days, so his leisurely pace was seriously irking her.
"No, first we go to Gringott, to take out some gold to even be able to afford your wand," Draco said smoothly, having refused to even answer his daughter's frantic nagging until now, seven.
"Right, and from there we go to the wand shop," she said, daring to not make it a question, but still looking to Draco in hopes he would agree so she could squeal.
"The shops are quite a distance apart, and I'm not exactly the fast-on-my-feet variety of wolf, so we will make our way in that direction in our good time, stopping where we must, allowing this old-pop of yours to rest every block or so," he said in a very understanding tone, in a very unhurried pace, in a very `that is that' manner.
"Every block?" Clarissa whined.
"I am no spring-pup like you, I don't recover as quickly from the full," he drawled. Clarissa looked mutinous, but subdued at the same time.
"Are you sure you're up to this though?" Ginny asked, walking into the room, closing her light-weight cloak around her to -quite literally- magically make her bump disappear beneath it.
"You fuss as though I have never managed through a full before," Draco said, almost laughing in his outrage. "I will be alright, that wasn't even the roughest I have coped through," he said, raising his hand to be dismissive, knowing he hadn't technically answered her question yet. "I am fine, I am tired and achy and will go slow so as not to tax myself," he said, glancing over at the anxious to get going Clarissa, "But I will be quite alright," he assured.
"I am not only talking about that," she said, dropping her voice.
"Don't be like Granger now," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "People will stop, they will stare, they will whisper behind their hands…on a normal day. Today it should be no different," he said in that same `that is that' tone he learned from his mother and used often on his children. Ginny pursed her lips together at that, wanting to argue, but not sure why. Draco was getting out, not shutting himself up and wallowing in his depression…so why wasn't she happy and supporting him one-hundred percent? She was afraid he would get hurt, and it would discourage him from ever being so bold again. She felt there were baby-steps to be had before this, to test the waters. Draco didn't believe in wading in, he believed in jumping, which was probably a reason behind why things tended to either go really well, or really badly for him.
"Don't worry," Draco said as though Ginny had voiced her thoughts out loud. She rolled her eyes up to be glaring at him, knowing he had snooped. "I'm a little bit tougher than you give me credit for. You seem to understand very little about me if you think I would precariously get my hopes up enough to then be let down, especially over something like this," he said. "I'm a little more guarded than that," he assured, Ginny sighing, this maybe not being quite the leap she thought it was for him. Draco raised an arm to allow her to situate herself under it and beside him, then wrapping that arm around her to hold her to his side tightly, giving her arm a reassuring rub.
"Where is Michael," he asked after a moment, looking around as though expecting him to appear.
"He's in his room, sleeping," Clarissa answered, frustrated because she had bullied Draco and Ginny into being ready by now, but her brother was still asleep, stubbornly refusing to do more than grunt and roll over while smooshing a pillow over his head to block her out, or make a blind grab from over the side of his bed to toss a shoe at her in annoyance.
"I'll get him, no sense in you running all the way upstairs," Ginny said, knowing Michelangelo wouldn't wake for his sister either.
"You don't need to be going up all those stairs either," Draco argued.
"Draco, I'm pregnant, not broken," she said, sometimes having to remind Draco of that. "I'll be right back."
Ginny climbed up the stairs at first with no trouble, head high, making it seem easy to spite Draco, but by the time she got to the floor where Michelangelo and Clarissa resided, she was puffing a little.
"Michael," she called softly through the door, knocking as she opened it with a groan of its hinges. Cleaned up, primed, painted, scraped, and dusted, the house was still an old house, and it still groaned, creaked, and whined like an old house. At night, when all else was quiet, it was actually kind of scary if you paid attention to the sounds.
Stepping in Ginny crossed the dark room, the colors dull in the dimness, the air feeling thick. She reached up to pull the curtains of his bed aside to finally meet something that wasn't dark. Laying face down on his bed, head turned to the side, in nothing but a pair of boxers, Michelangelo slept. His pale ringlets tossed about messily, his fair skin somehow managing to have a soft glow in the dimness. Ginny had never before seen him in such a state of undress. He was skinny, like the rest of his family, but a lot like Draco given how much he had grown recently without much weight gain, leaving his back a bit boney and arms and legs thin. Maybe the whole family just had a natural undernourished look about them. Michelangelo was the one person in the house Ginny never worried about eating, he had an appetite like Ron, he always found an occasion to eat something and a lot of it.
Recovering, though still feeling awkward, she tried to act collected as she leaned in and rested a hand on his shoulder, trying to stir him gently, but distracted immediately. On the back of his neck, laid bare by his upper-body's nakedness and careless hair, there was a tattoo, one nearly identical to Draco's. Draco's was a series of three numbers: 369. Michelangelo had 395 inked into that otherwise flawless skin of his. Ginny stared at it for a long moment before Michelangelo took a deep waking breath snapped her out of it.
"Mmm," he groaned quietly, stretching some. Ginny seized the opportunity.
"Michael," she said quietly, Michelangelo waking with a snap of his eyes.
"Bloody-hell," he gasped, rolling to pull his blanket to cover him, looking flushed in both embarrassment and anger.
"Your father is about ready to leave, we are all just waiting for you," she tried to explain, thankful the dimness likely hid her blush.
"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" he snapped.
"I did knock, you were sleeping," she said calmly, unprovoked.
"That little rapping you do while opening the door and whispering does not count," he fumed, reaching over the edge of his bed to grab his shirt from the floor and pull it on with much redirected aggression.
"Be ready to go in fifteen minutes," Ginny said, still not allowing herself to be baited by the boy. It was going to be a long day if they started off at each others' throats.
Draco wrapped himself around Ginny from behind the moment she reappeared, and she reached up and behind herself to scratch at his scalp like he loved.
"I love you," he whispered into her ear.
"I love you too," she responded, taking a deep breath at almost the exact same time he did. He smelled like his cologne, which was wonderful, and she smelled like strawberries, like her shampoo.
"A pretty flower for a pretty lady," he said, producing for her a daisy, held out before her tummy.
"Draco," she giggled. She didn't wonder where it came from; she was too busy being giddy over Draco's seemingly impeccable sense of romance. A handpicked flower for no special occasion, Draco was truly unique. She looked at it for a moment, and felt his love for her, but still, she was bothered by something, and she knew Draco would feel it.
"I had forgotten all three of you have those tattoos on our necks," she said as Draco placed his hands on her tummy.
"It is something easily forgotten, and actually preferred," he said dismissively into her neck.
"Will our child be tattooed?" she asked and Draco seemed to tense for a moment, then breathed heavily into her neck.
"They have not amended the law," he said.
"So that is a yes?"
She just felt Draco nod against her.
"Oh Merlin," she said, letting her deep sadness be heard and felt.
"It will be awright," he assured, rubbing her tummy.
"It's not right," she said, Draco knowing she would cry if he allowed her to continue on this thought.
"Life is not fair…let's not dwell, not today," he said, pressing himself against her, forcing her to take a step forward with him which he turned into a side-to-side rocking motion. "We are going to have a good day, we are going to have a family day, we are not going to let anything or anyone get us down," he said, rocking her to one side and then the other with each straight legged step.
"I think we need to come out about the baby, Draco," she said and Draco didn't stop in his rocking, though she could sense his reaction without him making a sound. "I know with everything that is breaking about you right now it would only be one more thing, but I agree with what your mother said to me, this is beyond just yours and my desire for privacy. I am not getting any less pregnant, and I am going to have to register this baby with the Beast Department, and see specialized doctors, and this is breaking one way or another, sooner or later, and you said yesterday `why let the dread build?' We can let people know and grow accustomed to the idea so that by the time the baby comes we can greet it with only joy," she said.
"You think anyone will get accustomed to this?" he argued, his hands grabbing her stomach for emphasis.
"As accustomed as they can get to it in two months time, and it would be easier than having to shield a baby from their cameras when the story breaks for the first time because of the birth, right?"
"I can't say I look forward to letting the whole world know that I got you pregnant," he said timidly.
"People love babies, even Malfoy babies. Don't worry, there will be a field day over this, and people will only likely be more persistent in getting our pictures, but letting some of the hysteria die down before the baby comes would be what's best for him,"
"Or her," he argued and Ginny just laughed so that her tummy bounded in Draco's hands.
"We agreed?" she asked.
"It is all up to you," he said after a long moment. "Do it when you feel comfortable about it, today, next week, a month from now," he said, almost pleading at the end to pick the later.
"I love you," she said, tipping her head back onto his shoulder.
"Of course you do," he said arrogantly, Ginny elbowing him in the stomach, them both laughing and wrestling a little before someone clearing their throat caused them to pause.
"I'm ready," Michelangelo announced, his arms crossed, standing on the bottom step, not looking pleased with his father's and Ginny's PDA.
Ginny couldn't travel by magical means while so pregnant. Apparition maybe, but that wasn't family friendly, and Portkey and Floo were potentially too violent for a woman in her third trimester, so Draco drove them to the Leaky Cauldron in his car. Michelangelo sat behind Draco, as always, and Clarissa behind Ginny, as was perusal. Clarissa was talking incessantly about what kind of wand she wanted. Willow with Unicorn hair, Ebony with Phoenix tail feather…she wouldn't give it a rest. Michelangelo had Birch with Dragon's Heartstring, so she wanted something completely different.
"What do you have, Ginny?" Clarissa asked.
"Hazel and Phoenix feather," she answered readily.
"Can I touch it?" she asked.
"No you may not," Draco cut in, Ginny just smiling out the window, Clarissa pouting.
Michelangelo had his in his pocket, the handle sticking out because of how long his was. Ginny felt Draco should take his wand away for summer like most parents did, or at the very least because Michelangelo was grounded and in so much trouble, but Draco was unrelenting in his stance that it broke the connection a new wand made with its owner to confiscate it for long periods of time. Ginny wasn't sure she agreed with that, not having heard much on the benefits and shortcomings of wand relationships with wizards, but she knew Harry had a dear one with his wand, so she couldn't really argue.
On the Muggle street where they parked, Draco, Ginny, and the kids were just a regular, typical, normal family on an outing in London like any other family would be. Just on the other side of the barrier, however, it would be a different story. Just passing through the Leaky Cauldron got them stares, though no one said anything, no one stopped them. Ginny marveled by how right Draco had been. They were allowed to pass without hassle, for the first time…ever, and it was actually quite wonderful. Wonderful, that is, if she didn't look up at Draco's face. She knew he couldn't help himself, and he was reading everyone he passed, and she knew he wouldn't find much within their thoughts to smile about. His beautiful eyes were shielded by his dark chic sunglasses, but his pout was set in a way that was part style, part irritation. It was the perfect blend that gave him an all around absolute Malfoy appearance.
Ginny rapped the correct bricks for the family to enter Diagon Alley -Michelangelo watching astutely- and immediately they were met with the bustle of the busy street, much talking, owls hooting and swooping overhead, small explosions and loud pops, merchants calling out to potential buyers about their products, and shrill hags able to be overheard more clearly over the murmur. Friends greeted each other, bumps were met with "excuse me" and other polite utterances as people moved about in their business, and the bells and twining snaps of shop doors being opened and closed all gave evidence of just how prosperous the magical community was. In everyone's self-absorbed heist, many overlooked Draco and his family, and it was almost nice to fall into step with the moving crowd and just be a person for a while. Draco could do this on a Muggle street, but it didn't come with a warmness, a sense of acceptance. This was his home, these were his people, these were the sounds he loved. Muggle traffic, whistles, horns, and angry grunts towards each other just could not compete with magic…real, live, warm magic. With the July sun shining down on them, with the smell of freshly cooked wizarding entrées in the small bakeries and eateries bombarding their senses, Draco felt himself relax enough to dare and enjoy himself. Ginny could tell because, despite his face remaining a cool arrogant mask, his hand found hers in a subtle but affectionate way.
"Oh my…Daddy, look at that, you see that? Is he upside down? What is he wearing?"
"Not enough, sweetie, let's move on," Draco said, quickly placing his hand on the side of his daughter's face to turn her head away, hurrying her past the wizard who was magically strung up by his ankles but clearly not wearing anything under his robes.
A few people along their way recognized Ginny and Draco, and he knew it wouldn't take long for the gossip to spread and their anonymity lost, so he enjoyed this freedom while he still could. He walked with his cane, at the quickest pace he dared, leaving the family to trek rather slowly. Michelangelo looked about, allowing a sort of dignified curiosity to show through. He had only been to Diagon Alley a handful of times himself, so he too was a little dazzled by the displays of magic he saw all about him, but not to the extent of his sister, because he had been to Hogwarts, he had gone to Hogsmeade, he had a wand, he was a wizard.
Clarissa stopped to poke, sniff, and gander at just about everything, so that worked well with Draco's slow pace, but her chiming voice and wild blonde locks were attention grabbing, and she was recognized very readily by every vender she approached.
"You look really pretty today, Clarissa," a man she didn't even know complemented. Clarissa did not find it odd that the man knew her name, everyone knew her name, like they did her father's, so she just graciously thanked the man and accepted from him his small gift, a blue quill that was a deep purple when tilted in the light, one of the more beautiful ones he sold. She walked with it, raising and lowering her arm to allow the feather to lift and glide in the light wind while pinched so delicately in her fingertips. Draco gave the man a nod as he passed, to attempt to be friendly and to show his gratitude, but the man did little in response but eye him mistrustfully. Draco did not know the man, and though he had extended kindness towards his beautiful daughter, he would not do the same to him, and that made Draco sigh a little, wishing he could be as infectiously endearing as Clarissa sometimes. She was in a yellow sundress that reached her knees and left her freckled shoulders bare. She wore white leather sandals and a white headband to keep her wild hair out of her eyes. She looked like a lemon drop, or a spot of sunshine. Her smile was so bright; her eyes practically squinting in her delight, Draco couldn't help himself as his hand snuck a grasp at Ginny's hidden tummy, wishing beyond any hope that he had managed a little girl with her. Would she have Ginny's red hair? His pale blond had won out against his other children's mother's red hair. Ginny had brown eyes, would he have a brown-eyed daughter? Would she have freckles? Would she have Ginny's nose, or her smile? Would she have his chin and ears and laugh?
Ginny placed her hand on top of Draco's. She wanted a boy, and he could understand that, boys were charming -he was evidence enough of that- but how could anyone not love a little baby girl? The frills and bows were to die for, not that Draco would ever admit to that.
"Enter, stranger, but take heed…Of what awaits the sin of greed…For those who take, but do not earn…Must pay most dearly in their turn. So if you seek beneath our floors…A treasure that was never yours…Thief, you have been warned, beware…Of finding more than treasure there," Clarissa read upon skipping up the stairs of Gringott before the rest of them, to read the inscription upon the great doors.
"Too bad that didn't apply to the Ministry stealing me blind," Draco grumbled, Ginny nudging him with a playful "shh" due to them having already agreed to not dwell on anything negative that day.
"Father, I hear there are dragons kept within, to guard some of the more secure vaults. Is that true?" Michelangelo asked Draco, curious but speaking curtly, like Draco once did with his own father, others sure to overhear and, like Michelangelo, wanting to project an air of sophistication.
"Our family vault," he said, saying "our" to include Michelangelo as a Malfoy, "was guarded by a nasty Welsh Green named Craven," he said and Michelangelo, despite himself, allowed a bit of his astonishment and excitement to surface, Clarissa not bothering to hide it at all.
"Will we be seeing a dragon today, Daddy?" she asked, looking so twinkle-eyed that she looked dazed.
"The black family vault was stripped of its high-priority status years ago, so unless we see one on the way, no," he said and Clarissa looked a little disappointed, but Draco pointed out to her the Goblin that had just emerged and she was instantly enthralled by it as something new. Ginny laughed softly because Clarissa acted like a Muggleborn, so unaccustomed to magical ways it was humorous. She was a pureblood, but you never would have guessed it by the way she behaved. Draco seemed to be able to find some humor in the irony at least as he followed his animated daughter in.
"Welcome to Gringott, Mr. Malfoy," the head Goblin greeted, Clarissa spinning around with her arms out in the center of the long tall hall as though to take into her all that the building contained. She looked up at the cobweb-encased chandeliers, she looked around at the busy Goblins weighing and inspecting gold and gems and other valuables, she twirled so her skirt and hair flared out and she was at risk of simply toppling over. A giggle escaped her which echoed around the cavernous hall and caused quite a few of the cantankerous Goblins to stop in their dealings to leer at her.
"Thank you. I wish to make a withdrawal today," he said curtly, not particularly liking Goblins, them not particularly liking him. He had a small hoard of Goblin gold in his vault thanks to his little January adventures, and the Goblins were not glad to see such a fortune unearthed and claimed by a man. They would have that gold back, one way or another in the end, and Draco was more than willing to exchange the gold for its worth in wizarding coin, but they did not want to pay for their own gold.
"Have you your key?" he asked and Draco nodded, presenting a small key from around his neck that he had strung on a delicate but magically reinforced gold chain, to keep it safe.
"Klarp will take you, though I would suggest leaving the children," he said and Clarissa and Michelangelo both instantly turned at that and made their outrage and objection known.
"What?" Clarissa asked.
"No way," Michelangelo snapped.
"They are coming along with me, this is a family trip," Draco said coolly.
"Very well," the Goblin said crisply, his pointed teeth impeding his ability to speak only slightly, a sharp inward hiss heard at the end as he sucked up the saliva he would otherwise drool from his wide narrow-lipped mouth.
"Is it safe?" Clarissa asked timidly a handful of moments later as she stood before one of the rail-carts, Draco helping Ginny in with care, Michelangelo hopping in without fear, the goblin Klarp already situated to drive.
"No one has died in years," the Goblin hissed, only causing the last bit of color to drain out of Clarissa's face. Draco gave the Goblin a stern look and held his hand out to his daughter while she stood on the platform still, him in the cart.
"I will hold you tight," he promised, Clarissa not doubting her father but still clearly weary. Ginny was pregnant but making the trip, because the trolleys really were rather safe, protected by all sorts of wards. Having one's clientele falling to their deaths or suffering injury was not good business, and Goblins knew business.
"Come on, stop being a baby," Michelangelo complained and Clarissa instantly huffed, her hair even seaming to puff like an irritated bird, or cat.
"I am no baby," she snapped.
"Then get in the car," he challenged and Clarissa looked divided, but swung her foot into the car with a look of `I'll show you' determination and plopped herself down before her father, so he could hold her between his legs. Ginny was to Draco's left side where she linked arms with him, and Michelangelo was in front of her, anticipating the rush of sitting in the front of the insane ride.
"Does this go FAAAST!" Clarissa attempted to ask but then just ended up screaming as the car shot off like a rocket and dropped almost immediately like a rollercoaster. Michelangelo was laughing, raising his arms here or there, Ginny was holding onto Draco's arm tight as he kept one hand on her, another on his daughter who was gripping his left leg for dear life. It was his good leg, and that was only by luck that she had grabbed that one, and he was grateful because he would have been screaming too if that weren't the case.
"Vault 248," the goblin announced upon reaching a screeching and jarring halt. Clarissa's hair, if possible, was more of a wild mess than ever before, and she was a little white-lipped and wide-eyed.
"That was so awesome, I'm driving back," Michelangelo laughed as he hopped down after having stepped up onto the edge of the cart. Ginny was going to stay seated, no need for everyone to get out for Draco to gather up some gold, but Clarissa seemed to be an obstacle in this.
"You alright, darling?" Draco asked, Ginny assuring him she would take care of it as she leaned forward to pry the girl off and allow Draco to stand. She scooted over so she was where he had been sitting to allow Clarissa to continue to cling, just stroking the back of the little girl's head, smoothing down her fly away hair.
"I don't think Clarissa is much of a flier," Michelangelo smirked as he looked back towards his traumatized sister as Draco passed.
"I recall you screaming like a banshee our first trip down here, Michael, so if I hear one word from you in teasing her I will recap the tale to her and Ginny without sympathy," he warned, Michelangelo pouting some. Michelangelo was like him in so many ways, including being chicken-shit.
The Goblin -who was waiting already- opened the door and allowed Draco to take out a pre-agreed-upon amount of gold and silver coins.
The cart ride back was much longer it seemed, but nearly a half an hour after entering Gringott they were all leaving, stepping out into the bright sun of Diagon Alley.
"Awright, Clarissa's head will start spinning around soon if I don't take her to the wand shop first," Draco said, Clarissa jumping up and down in place, "So why don't we split up, she and I will hit Ollivander's first, and you two can -stick together," he said, looking right at his son sternly, "and see Diagon Alley, and the shops for a bit. We can meet for lunch at the Grub-tub at, oh, eleven?" he asked and Clarissa readily agreed, already pulling at her father's hand.
"Sounds good," Ginny said, giving Draco a puckering smack on the lips with her own before pulling back to look over at Michelangelo, him never pleased to see affection shared between his father and Ginny.
"Be good," Draco warned, looking at Ginny but clearly talking to Michelangelo as he allowed himself to be pulled backwards by a grunting and tugging Clarissa.
"Come on, all the best ones will be gone by the time you get done with all your smooches," she said as she pulled with her might, Draco disinclined to be very corporative just to cause her a little grief.
"The wand picks you, dear. The one best suited for you has been waiting years for you to come, it will still be there for you no matter how slow I trot," he assured, limping along at his own dandy pace.
"The next Minister will be in office by the time you get there at this rate," she complained, Draco just laughing a little, ignoring the looks he got. Yes, that terrible article had been printed about him only two days ago, and yes he was out and about in public, laughing. If people had a problem with that, they simply did not have enough problems of their own.
The jingling of the door's bell disrupted the silence of the shop, the contrast from the lively street immense. People could still be heard through the glass, but it took a moment for the muffling to become audible, the silence swallowing them up at first.
"Hello?" Clarissa called, little girlish voice irresistible, from what she had been lead to believe. She expected someone to come to her beckoning within the instant, but when there was nothing but silence she looked at her father as though expecting him to fix this and he just smiled and shrugged, leading her to try again. "Hello?" she asked, stepping forward a little to gasp when Ollivander, the man himself, appeared from between the shelves where he had been obviously wandering from.
"Ah, another Malfoy," he said with a smile.
"Hello, Ollivander," Draco greeted warmly, or as warmly as he ever allowed himself to be while out in public, with people he barley knew but for their time spent in the war.
"Draco, my-boy, here to replace that wand of yours finally?" he asked, overlooking Clarissa which caused her to get pink in the face with indignation as she placed her hands on her narrow waist.
"No, no," he said bashfully.
"Hawthorn and unicorn hair, 10 inches, reasonably springy…I could make you another, probably near the same, it is what worked best for you obviously, though the core is really what's most important, it is what chooses its master," he said and Draco was just shaking his head.
"Tempting, but I am not here today for a wand for myself, but for my daughter. She will be starting her first year at Hogwarts come this autumn and has demanded that she get a wand as soon as possible," Draco explained, stepping up to his daughter to place his hands on her shoulders.
"Oh-yes, I have heard a great deal about you, little Clarissa, and seen you too, always playing for the cameras," he said, almost like he was tisking her.
"I really want a wand, please," she said, batting her eyes, placing the tip of her toe on the ground and turning her knee in and folding her hands before her with locked elbows in a coy shyness that reeked of femininity and flattery, while asking so sweetly. Draco couldn't be prouder, Ollivander couldn't be less impressed.
"Flirty ways are charming now, little Clarissa, but they can lead to trouble. I would hate for you to bat your eyes at the wrong man someday," he said, fetching a box from the many that lined the dusty walls. Clarissa looked a little perplexed and glanced up at her father, but Draco just gave her an encouraging push forward so as to take the wand Ollivander would be offering her as he himself took a much needed seat in a little wooden chair near the corner. He hadn't let it show on his face while Clarissa had been looking, but as he removed his sunglasses he panted slightly, exhausted already.
"Maple would complement your sweet personality, and fairy hair would add that little extra bite I detect in you," he said, leaning in to offer Clarissa the first wand. She looked at it, almost like she couldn't believe her eyes that she was being presented with a wand, and hesitantly grasped it in her right hand, looking at it the whole time she drew it out of Ollivander's grasp slowly.
"Right handed, as I assumed, unlike your father, however," he said and Draco smiled, remembering how sternly his father had reprimanded him for reaching for his first wand with the "wrong hand" and Ollivander daring to speak against his father, saying it was crucial for a wizard to hold his wand with the proper, natural hand, whether it be right, or left.
Clarissa looked over at her father, then at the wand, and Draco nudged her a little with his foot, the only thing that could reach her at that point.
"A little wave should do it," he said, Clarissa nodding, and flicking, and jumping upon a scream erupting from the tip on the wand as steam burst forth like it was a kettle of water boiling.
"Oh dear, I think I misjudged the length greatly," Ollivander sighed, flicking his own wand while removing the one from Clarissa, a tape measure appearing in the air to wrap itself about Clarissa in many ways, taking measurements of the oddest things, it all somehow amounting to some greater meaning that was beyond her, or even Draco, as Ollivander just held his own chin and nodded.
"A shorter wand, like your father I think. So many get caught up in length these days, it is such a shame. If it is less than fifteen they cry out for a second opinion. Short wands are condensed, oftentimes more powerful -all depending on the core and witch or wizard of course- and easier to carry," Ollivander explained, or possibly ranted, as he fetched another wand. Clarissa looked over at her father again with frowning brows of uncertainty and Draco just gave her a smile, the tape measure taking record of how wide her toenails were at this point and tying bows around her ankles.
"Here we are, how about a nice firm Ash with a spark of Dragon's Heartstring, a favorite core of mine," he said, Clarissa looking at it but taking it more readily this time. She gave it a swish without encouragement this go, but poor Ollivander had not retreated out of the way yet and got knocked backwards into the shelves.
Clarissa quickly bent at the knees to abandon the wand down at her feet and shot up to look the other way as though playing it off like she wasn't the culprit.
The wand fitting went on much this way for nearly half an hour.
"My dear girl, I have rarely met a child as impossible as you," he said, not angered, but intrigued by the challenge. "I think I am thinking too much, yes, yes. Why don't we…I can't imagine why I didn't try this one first…we will go with the most obvious choice, yes. If I am wrong I will eat the wand when I'm done," he said, fetching a wand from up high, climbing a ladder that seemed far too steep for the ancient one to manage but Draco having witnessed the late Coderdale scaling ladders at least three times that height without complaint.
Ollivander returned, presenting Clarissa with what he apparently believed to be the final wand. Clarissa, rightfully weary at this point, took the wand, but did not flick it, just looked at it as she felt it grow warm in her hand. The wood seemed to vibrate and quiver, and a low-tone ringing filled the room, or maybe just her own ears.
"We have a winner?" Draco asked, noticing his daughter's transfixed eyes as he stood slowly with much assistance from his cane.
"Oh yes, perfect fit. Ten inches, just like yours, but Elder wood, as is often seen in winter babies. The core is what surprised me. I thought it, but hadn't dared try it. I relearn this lesson to follow my gut feeling every summer with new students gathering their wands for school. Glad I got it out of the way early this year, with minimal damage to my shop," he said as Clarissa seemed to break away from her dazed state to look up at Ollivander.
"What is in my wand?" she asked, voice a little lost, like she was without breath to speak.
"A rare phoenix feather, you can hear his song, can't you?" he asked and Clarissa nodded. "A handsome one as I recall, one that I met out in Greece over a lifetime ago. This wand is one of my personal firsts. I never thought I would sell it, it never reacted well to any witch or wizard I offered it to, so I had since stopped offering it," he said, Draco looking at the wand.
"It isn't…dangerous, is it?" he asked, not sure he liked the tale behind the wand all that much.
"It is simply a difficult wand to tame. Should you try to use it, it would buck you, as though it were a horse. She is lucky it chose her really, ever stripped of her wand it is unlikely it can be used against her, though it would be a difficult wand to replace, and I'm sure things like transfiguration will come easy while charms will be more difficult with this wand's stiffness and force," he explained, Clarissa practically beaming.
"I have a powerful wand?" she asked.
"A wand is synced with its master, young lady. A truly powerful wand can only be wielded by a truly powerful witch, otherwise it would be the wand who is the master, and you can imagine the trouble that would ensue," he said, leaning in slightly.
"Michael is going to be greener than a swamp frog with envy when he hears this!" Clarissa squealed, spinning in place, pink sparkles erupting out her wand to twirl around her in her glee.
Draco stepped forward to deal with the matter of paying for this wand, talking in a low voice to the man.
"Both my children ended up with some sort of ominous or potent wand, with tales of their cores and promise of their potential so great but wicked that it has me at unease and them beside themselves with pride…why is that?" he asked, opening up his money purse.
"The wand chooses the wizard…"
"Yeah, yeah, cut the horseshit, how much is this one going to cost me?" Draco drawled.
"It is twenty Galleons," he said curtly, Draco pursing his lips together, once again paying an extravagant amount for a wand for his child. "Might I tempt to you with a wave or two, Mr. Malfoy? Surely there is a wand in here that will tickle you the right way," Ollivander pressed, feeling slightly insulted that Draco would subtly accuse him of being a con-artist, wishing he could get Draco to understand what a complex and vague art that was wand making, and how certain he was that Clarissa had the best wand suited for her.
Draco actually did know how Ollivander felt, but didn't reveal such, just counting out his coins, trying his best to not be lured by a test, knowing it would only take one good flick to have him sold, and he didn't want to reward the man for his vender ways.
---------------
Ginny and Michelangelo walked along the cobble street together, moving between groups of people, stopping here or there to look at things, but with no real sense of purpose, they had no real destination.
"We can check out Quality Quidditch Supplies," Ginny offered.
"Why, I'm not getting a broom," Michelangelo moped, that being part of his punishment. He was in trouble, so he didn't get a brand new broom for his second year. All hopes of him making the house team were crushed in his mind because he knew he couldn't impress anyone on one of the school rentals, and everyone on the team needed their own boom, school ones were only ever used as temporary substitutes if at all.
"That never stopped you from looking before this year," Ginny pressed, remembering how transfixed he had been by the brooms last time she had brought him here but he had no hope of actually getting one.
"I rather not gander longingly at things I can't have, thank you," Michelangelo said curtly, walking a little faster to be a step or two away from Ginny so she was behind him.
"Well I want to stop here," she said, looking up at the sign, Michelangelo doing the same.
"Why?"
"Because, babies demand furniture," she said, not having a crib yet for her child. There was one that belonged to the Blacks, but it looked about as likely to eat her baby as it was to keep it safe, so she was always on the lookout for one she fancied. It was easy to shop unnoticed, however, and to talk of babies openly, because of Hermione's widely publicized pregnancy. Everyone assumed she was shopping for her best friend, and no one suspected. Yet. The Daily Prophet's headquarters was in Diagon Alley, Ginny and Michelangelo had just passed it, so she knew the tabloid writers and photographers would be on their tail in a matter of moments, surely the news having reached them by now that Draco Malfoy had brought his family amongst them.
"Whatever, I will be next-door. I don't want to look at frilly little baby knickknacks and hear you coo over every other thing," he drawled, not waiting for Ginny's okay over this, just turning to roll into the bookshop without another parting word. Ginny huffed, but decided to duck inside before someone got a picture of her scowling, or at the very least saw it and help spread some kind of rumor. She knew people were watching her and Michelangelo -paparazzi or not- everyone observing their interactions closely. She did not want to give anyone ammunition to help carry the story that there was much animosity between her and Michelangelo still. What made that nasty rumor so bad was that it was true.
Ginny stepped inside with a sigh, a frustrated sigh as she attempted to not pull at her hair. Michelangelo had known she wouldn't fight with him on the street, wouldn't have made a scene and gone after him, so he had been bold and insubordinate. Sometimes he seemed alright, other times he was a downright nightmare. He was kind'a like Draco in that respect.
"Welcome to Fancy Furnishings, how may I…oh my, hello Ms. Weasley," the shop keeper welcomed, making a sweeping bow when she realized who had just entered.
"Uh, hello," Ginny said, never accustomed to the sort of reactions she enticed out of people. This woman, tall and thin, straightened to look at Ginny with anticipation and possibly a little admiration. "I was looking for baby…"
"Right this way!" the woman said, scooping Ginny around the middle with her arm and sweeping her across the shop, instantly pitching every item imaginable to her, everything from magic self-changing tables, to cribs that rocked themselves, to highchairs that burped the baby.
"I was just kind of thinking of something basic, and classic, and there is no knowing the sex of the baby yet," she said and the shop keeper, determined to make a sale, did not fight Ginny on her wishes, moving from the elaborate (expensive) furnishings to the more standard line and variety.
"Of course," the woman said, showing Ginny all the varieties they carried. "Our line of baby furniture is the most extensive of any localized business, you can check anywhere. You can't beat our selection, our quality, or our prices," she pressed, smile wide, hands sliding over the wood of a crib as though to showcase its quality.
"It's all quite nice, I just…I don't know what will be liked…it's hard to shop for someone else," Ginny said tactfully, still maintaining that she was shopping for Harry and Hermione, not admitting that she was really talking about Draco. She knew he was very particular, and she didn't want to invest in something he would hate.
"Well, if it helps any, Mr. Potter and lovely Ms. Granger have been coming in; I can tell you what they already have so you can reduce your options, make things easier," she offered, not about to lose her sale due to Ginny's uncertainty.
Ginny was pulling at the collar of her robes. She was so hot. She was finding it more and more difficult to not roast the further into summer they got, and the more pregnant she became. Going out into public was becoming less and less frequent for her, for the layers she had to wear to conceal her secret were threatening to make her faint. Work was a nightmare given how stifling the Ministry got sometimes.
"Are you alright?" the woman asked.
"I am just a bit warm," Ginny said, fanning herself.
"Well, I should think so, it is much too warm for robes, even of that weight," the woman laughed and Ginny glanced over towards the front-facing windows where she could see the paparazzi had finally found her. They couldn't enter businesses, so they stayed out on the street, poking their cameras in to snap their pictures. Surely they were mentally drafting stories to go along with this series, something along the lines of "Draco and Ginny's relationship falling apart, Ginny does some retail-therapy to deal with the stress…" or "Ex-Mrs. Potter heartbroken over first love moving on with her best friend! Now she shops for the child she will never have…"
Ginny shook her head. She had seen similar stories written already. Surely they would come up with something new…something headline catching so that they could compete with the full moon article that was still looming heavily over them all.
Ginny had an idea as to how she could compete with that article.
"You know, you're right. It is much too hot for these robes," she said, the woman smiling at her, her eyes then widening, however, when Ginny pulled the robes open to not reveal some cute summer wardrobe. Ginny slipped her robes down her arms to reveal her pregnant self, in all her pregnant glory, and she could actually see the flashbulbs go off on her right through her closed eyelids.
"There, she said with a refreshed breath, folding the robed up and draping them over her left arm. "Much batter," she said, the shop keeper staring, the flashbulbs exploding outside, Ginny just smiling as though oblivious to it all.
The shop keeper, wanting her sale, swallowed hard and cleared her throat and said nothing on Ginny's figure and just pressed on, talking about cribs.
"This one is classic, white and tasteful, perfect for a couple that doesn't know the sex of their baby yet," she said, eyes falling on Ginny's stomach every once in a while as she spoke.
"I don't know, Draco wants to do the whole nursery white, and I fear that if I got a white crib he would have too much of a toe in the door with that idea. I wanted to keep things bright, but with primary colors, you know?" she said, placing her hand on her belly and getting the predicted response of more flashes.
"Well, a finished wood, like this oak, would be a nice centerpiece in a room of any color, and it not being white, it would not help him persuade you to go all white…if that is what you desire," she said, wringing her hands together.
"I really think I should drag Draco in here for this. He will want everything to be white and frilly, but maybe you can talk some sense into him," Ginny laughed, the woman looking a little wide-eyed at the prospect of having the werewolf in her establishment. "I think I will do that, yes," Ginny said, obviously making up her mind, turning to allow herself to be walked out. She paused at the front door with the woman, who seemed reluctant to release Ginny out into the sea of paparazzi that awaited just on the other side of the glass. "I'll be back," Ginny assured, as though to quell some of the woman's worries.
"You take care," she said, taking a step back. Ginny just squared her shoulders, threw her hair over them, and held her chin up as she exited the shop, the noise outside considerable.
"Ginny! Ginny!" they all shouted and Ginny, despite everything, had to smile, had to laugh at this. She was just imagining the reactions people would have, she was imagining the frantic thoughts of all the wizards about her, taking her picture, and she just couldn't not laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. She had to try and remember why people were so obsessed with her in the first place. She helped fight in a war, as many had, so she got a medal or two. She married and then divorced her childhood sweetheart who happened to be the `greatest hero of all time' and now she was dating a man that had a bad rep and was a werewolf. Somehow all this constituted a growing obsession with her? It was the epitome of ridiculous to her.
"Ginny! Why have you not revealed until now that you are pregnant?!" one man shouted, them all moving as a cluster as she walked. They were like a moving wall always four feet ahead of her. It actually meant she didn't have to fight her way through the crowd, she just had to step in a direction and the paparazzi would plow a path for her.
Ginny just smiled bashfully, Michelangelo stepping out to observe the most recent disruption, and seemed less than thrilled to discover its source.
"Decided today would be the day?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"It was decided upon…sort of," Ginny said, having talked to Draco about it already.
"Couldn't you have picked a day I wasn't out with you? I don't really feel I deserve this, no matter what I may have done," he grumbled and Ginny just scooped him around the middle with her arm to walk with him, him stubbornly being led along. He was almost as tall as her shoulder now. He looked just like Draco when he was that age, but certainly taller. It was already understood that Michelangelo would surpass Draco in height, and likely pretty soon if Michelangelo's recent growth-spurt was any indication.
"It is a family announcement," she teased, so many pictures being taken. Michelangelo didn't look thrilled.
"Ginny! Ginny!" they all shouted, trying to get her to look this way, or that way, which she refused. "Who's the father?" one man dared to blurt out and Ginny finally did look, with a look of utter insult. Michelangelo looked quite outraged himself.
"How dare you…get out of here," Michelangelo snapped, waving his hand at the camera, even kicking in the direction of the man. Ginny was not looking pleased, but in a downtrodden sort of way. She hadn't anticipated them picking up that angle so soon. She was sure just the shock alone would dominate the headlines for at least a day. It was understandable, however, no matter how insulting, that people would question the paternity of her baby. Even Draco had doubted it at first too, because she had been dating another man at the time of conception. Even if they had kept the baby a secret up until birth, even if she had delivered a carbon-copy of Draco, people's first reaction would still have been to doubt he was the father, simply for the sake of the headlines it would make.
Michelangelo was protective of Ginny, but only in a means that was an extension of how shielding he was of his father. That didn't stop Ginny from holding out some hope that cases like this would help win the boy over some, to create an opportunity for him to relent in his stubborn refusal to be accepting of her without having to admit he had been wrong.
She knew it was just wishful thinking on her part at this point and she just needed to give him time, and space, but it was what helped her get through situations like these, as so many people stopped to stare at her, as so many pictures were taken of her, as so many people shouted at her.
------------------
"Are we going to met for lunch now?" Clarissa asked, the bounce in her step so great she was practically skipping along side him.
"We have some time still," he said smoothly, his daughter's energy in great contrast to how reserved he carried himself. He had his slick black clothes, his cane that was styled much like the one his father once carried only his has a silver dragon twining around the polished black wood to act as the handle, and his sunglasses in place. He sort of looked like his father's second coming -only a little less dated, and very thin- and Draco prided himself in that, even if the tabloids labeled it as a bad thing. He didn't care what they said, so long as they didn't claim that he had a receding hairline. Someone was getting caned if they did that again.
"Can we look at the owls?" she asked and Draco shook his head.
"Oh no, you will want another animal and I will not have it. I just got the house to stop reeking like animals and their excrement, I am not about to foul it up again," he said.
"But I need an animal for school," Clarissa whined.
"I didn't get Michael a pet and he managed through his school year just fine," Draco said in his `that is that' tone. Michelangelo had use of Frank, the owl Draco had bought and his children had named. He had a feeling a second owl would be required now that Clarissa would be attending, Michelangelo sort of unofficially adopting Frank as his own personal owl. Draco would be able to use Ginny's for personal use he supposed, but still, he hadn't planned on coming to Diagon Alley and leaving with half the supplies Clarissa would need for school. They got her her wand, that was all she would be getting that day, no matter how she begged.
"How about we stop in here," Draco said, looking up at the library that was erected in the center of things, not far but on the opposite side of the street from Gringott, crammed into that tall narrow space between the existing businesses.
"The library? Why?" she asked as thought the very idea was repugnant.
"Your father likes books, he is tired and would have a good sit, and the paparazzi are out in force," he said, already scaling the few steps. Clarissa followed obediently but with much griping. She wanted to be outside in the sunlight, not in a `dark cave full of dusty smelly old books'. Draco had another reason for going inside, however. He had heard there was an opening here for employment, and while he knew he wouldn't get any job he applied for, he would have no sense of accomplishment if he didn't at least try whenever possible. It was something to report back to Ginny about and keep her spirits high. As much as her delusional optimism annoyed him, he wouldn't have it any other way, it mildly infectious and actually really beneficial for him. Not that he would admit it.
Inside was cool, dark, and quiet. Draco liked it instantly. The ceiling was high, the room round, and all around were shelves and shelves of books built into the walls so that they were surrounded as though in a giant cylinder of reading. There were three floors, railings encircling each as they rose upward. All around them were tables with dim lamps for personal reading and research, and directly ahead of them, on each floor, was a corridor that clearly led to the rest of the library. Beside the archway on the second floor was a large portrait of Dumbledore himself, the namesake of the library.
"Who is that?" Clarissa asked, looking up at the bearded old man with curiosity.
"A nobody," Draco said curtly, the picture responding simply by raising one white eyebrow as Draco and Clarissa passed under him.
Draco was cool and collected on the outside, on the inside, however, he was nervous. He knew, beyond a doubt, he wouldn't get the job, so why was he anxious? He didn't have his hope up high enough to let anticipation do this to him. Maybe he was just fearing, dreading, the rejection. No matter how often it happened, or how expected it was, one never really gets used to cold pitiless dismissal. Ironic a Malfoy would fear something they were known for dishing out. Malfoys past would be ashamed.
Draco walked a ways, looking for the offices, figuring they were somewhere along the back where the library expanded out some. Clarissa seemed bored, but looked around inquisitively, as though hoping something exciting would happen. Draco came upon the offices like he had expected to, and turned to Clarissa, crouching down to be more level with her despite the pain it caused him.
"Alright, sweet-pea, I need to run in that office there and talk to the head historian, alright? I doubt this will take more than a matter of minutes, but I cannot stress enough that I want you to wait right here. Do not wander off, understood?" he said, looking right in her eyes to drive the point home, expecting her full compliance in this.
"Yes," she said with a nod.
"That's my girl," he said with a kiss to her forehead before leaning liberally on his cane to stand. He knocked twice using the head of his cane and waited to be offered entrance. When "enter" drifted out to meet him he looked back at Clarissa for a moment for a burst of confidence before letting himself in and closing the door quickly.
Inside the office was small, dark, and cramped. Draco looked around, there being only one source of light causing deep shadows to form in the orange glow of the old fashioned gas lamp. There was a man at the desk, writing furiously with a quill, the scratching on the parchment loud in the otherwise nearly silent room. The only other sound to compete was the sound of an old clock ticking slowly in the background.
"Excuse me," Draco said softly, having expected the man to have abandoned his work upon hearing a knock at the door and inviting the person in, but it was like he had just answered without looking up, with no intention of making introductions.
"I assume you are the one that owled ahead about the job?" he asked, still not having looked up.
"I did. I filled out the application that was sent to me, I have it here," he said.
"It didn't occur to you to just owl it back?" the man asked, still scratching away.
"It said on the application to deliver it in person," he said, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling it out, unfolding it slowly.
"No one delivers them anymore, that application is old."
"This library is relatively new," Draco said in bewilderment.
"It's a standard application, and it is out of date, and I haven't the time to deal with you," the man said, finally looking up at Draco, instantly surprised by who it was before him. He pushed his glasses down some to look at Draco and Draco did not react at all, remaining still while awaiting the response the man would have.
"Well, well, well, Mr. Malfoy," he said with amusement. "What would have you applying here for a job?" he asked.
"The need of a job. I heard there was an opening, and I felt I could fill the position well," he said, as though this were part of the interview, keeping his answers direct, voice sophisticated but not curt, not heavily at least. There was a certain curtness about him that he had never been able to drop.
"Being a lowly librarian is not something below you?" the man asked, challenging.
"I worked for the Ministry of Magic for three years, in their Hall of Records, so I am more than capable of shelving, tending, and repairing the books here," Draco said, not exactly answering the man's question. Not directly at least.
"I see," the man said, taking the application Draco was offering, not looking at it, only Draco. Draco looked at his own application, and the man, and back at the application. "We will contact you, upon reviewing your application," the man said, Draco looking right at his face and his expression finally falling.
"Oh, right, I get it," he said with a sigh, knowing exactly what the man was telling him: he was to leave, and he wasn't going to even be considered. He expected that, but he had allowed some part of him to stupidly hope for things to not be as they were, because he had actually wanted this job. Silly of him, he was a fool. He was a Malfoy, a Death Eater, and a werewolf. There was no way he was going to have a legitimate job; he didn't even know why he still tried.
Draco let himself out, the man already dropping the application in the rubbish bin while Draco's back was turned but not even out of the room yet. Draco stepped out with pursed lips and brushed under his eyes once fiercely before Clarissa came into view.
"Is everything alright?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said, smiling down at her like nothing in that other room had even happened. "What was that about you wanting to look at the owls?" he said, able to draw happiness out of the excitement on Clarissa's face. The way it lit up, it would be all he could hope to accomplish that day.
------------------
Back in that room, with that man, another joined him from a smaller, almost half-hidden door, arms laden with books, sounding a touch winded when he spoke.
"Who was that?" he asked, his Scottish accent somehow making him seem more curious.
"Just a failed applicant. Have those texts I asked for?"
"Yes," he grunted as he heaved them onto the desk. "Failed? Failed how? How do you expect to ever fill the position if you refuse the only person to answer our need for a secretary?" he asked, reaching for the rubbish bin and beating the older man to it who had attempted to snatch the application out of reach first. He was no match for the younger man's fast reflexes. "I see here this applicant worked for the Ministry, Hall of Records, that's excellent. And he got Outstanding on his Owls for History of Magic…never completed school though…you can't reject him for that…I can't see why you wouldn't con…" he said, trailing off to see the name at the top of the form.
"We don't need his kind here."
"You can't honestly be that narrow-minded…"
"People won't come here if he's here," the man argued, voice raised because he was the authority there, feeling he shouldn't have to explain himself.
"You can't reject him based off who or what he is, that is discrimination," he argued right back.
"I'm not, he didn't complete school, he is not a fully qualified wizard, I am not going to hire someone so limited."
"He is not limited, he is likely to be the best we will have answer, and I am going to go contact him," the man said, turning to leave the room.
"You can't hire him, you do not have the authority! I am the one that writes the paychecks around here, I am the one…"
"Who will apologize to him," the other man responded harshly. "Just because your son is a werewolf doesn't mean you can hate and blame every other werewolf you come across for that. Draco has never hurt anyone," he said, leaving through the door Draco had used.
He ran down the corridor, out the hall, and down the stairs, looking right and left in hopes of seeing Draco. He wagered to go left and headed off in that direction in a near sprint, hoping he was correct or he would be putting quite a distance between himself and Draco very quickly. Eventually, through the interweaving crowd, white hair caught his eye, and he called out to him.
"Draco!" he called, holding his arm up in hopes of Draco seeing him should he turn. Draco did not. "Draco," he called again, Draco's shoulders only hunching slightly as he kept walking.
The man finally caught up with him, now panting slightly (more from the dodging than the running) and grabbed Draco from behind by the shoulder. "What is so hard about answering me?" he panted, Draco turning defensively upon being touched, pushing Clarissa to be behind him, but surprised to see it was no photographer or bully on his tail, but Oliver Wood.
"I'm sorry, I do not respond to people calling my name out on the street, it is nearly always just someone looking for trouble," he said, looking over at Wood awkwardly, not sure what the man wanted of him that he would run down the street chasing after him. Sure they had vaguely known each other from Hogwarts, enough to recognize each other obviously, but he was understandably weary. The last time he had seen this man, he had been fighting with the Order, and Draco was a Death Eater. He had had Oliver at wand-point but not acted. He had hissed at Oliver to fly and not say a word, not because he had been working for the Order too at the time, no, it was because he had been a Death Eater who was utterly useless at killing people. There had been no one there who would be around to call him on letting Oliver go.
Apparently Wood had never forgotten that.
"Well, I came after you to congratulate you," Oliver said, panting less now, straightening to hold his hand out to Draco as though to shake but Draco not reciprocating.
"For what?" he asked skeptically.
"About you getting the job," he said and Draco looked at him in surprise at first, then mistrust. Clarissa was peeking around her father hesitantly, silent and unobtrusive in hopes of being overlooked. "Oh, don't look at me like that, come here," Oliver said to Draco, shaking his hand in the air a little to get Draco to acknowledge it and accept it.
"I don't understand, that old coot tossed my application, he would not have me," Draco said, allowing his arm to be shaken as people passed them close by.
"Mr. Crudelis is, well, a difficult man, but an awesome taskmaster, and smart employer, when he can pull his head out of those dusty volumes long enough to get a breath of fresh air to think," he said, releasing Draco. "His son is, uh…he has your same condition, and so he can be rather harsh…"
"Crudelis? I don't know the name."
"He disowned his son, so his son took his mother's name, Terrus."
"Tweak?" Draco asked, Oliver looking at him. "I know who you mean. He is known as Tweak down at the pen because he is a little guy with a twitch. Nice chap, bitter as all hell though," he said and Oliver nodded. "I don't understand, you work for Mr. Crudelis then?" Draco asked, not exactly knowing Oliver that well from Hogwarts but sure the boy would have made a career out of playing Quidditch or coaching, or something. A librarian? Somehow that fell short of his expectations. Oliver seemed unabashed, however.
"Yeah, long story. Listen, how soon can you start? The sooner the better because with only me and one other chap working, things have gotten seriously backed up and disorderly. The place is a mess, and things need organizing, labeling, shelving, the card catalogs are unusable due to their disorder, overdue notices have not been owled out, we don't know what is in and what is out and what is just misplaced..."
"I get it, you need some more hands," Draco said, easing Oliver down some. "I can start, well, whenever I suppose," he said, it just now starting to dawn on him with that admission. Did he have a job? Him? He got a job? He went out, submitted an application, sat through an interview (of sorts), and now he had a job? He couldn't believe this. No Malfoy had ever done such a thing, and this wasn't something that ever happened to a werewolf. There must be a catch; this all must be a trick.
"Alright, listen, if you are feeling up to it, how about tomorrow? Bright and early at six o'clock? I can help you punch in, run you through the lay-out, introduce you to the systems and such, and by seven we will be ready to get to work?" he said, looking so relieved, even to an extent that rivaled Draco.
Draco looked at Oliver, really looked into him, to see why he had gone through all this effort. He expected to see his desperation to have the position filled, or pity for him and thus why he would offer the job. What he didn't expect to see was Oliver being upstanding and honest.
"Oh god," Draco said, almost looking disappointed.
"What?"
"You are just genuinely a really decent person," he said, Oliver looking confused, not sure how Draco would know one way or another, and not sure how it was a bad thing like he was seemingly making it out to be.
"Sorry?" he offered, still confused.
Draco just shook his head. "Tomorrow, six," he said, excitement filling him again.
"Right, six. I can introduce you to Connor, he's a decent chap," he said, looking grateful, relieved, almost enthusiastic.
"Right," Draco said, daring to smile a little. Oliver shook his hand one more time before parting ways to go back to his job.
"Did you just get a job, Daddy?" Clarissa asked once they were alone, or as alone as they could be in the middle of Diagon Alley.
"I think so," he said, looking at Oliver's retreating head still.
"That means you can wear that tie I got you!" she exclaimed with utter joy, Draco sighing, knowing he would have to, to appease her. They walked together at a good slow pace, but Diagon Alley seemed louder than usual, like a commotion was heading his way. Draco had so far been free of any pestering, of photographing, of harassing, so hearing this noise slowly approaching was the death of all enjoyment he had been having that day as reality came crashing back down upon him. He had a job, however, so certainly no reporter could truly bring him down, no way.
The first to appear simply took his picture, and Clarissa, always able to make the best of this, smiled and held her father's hand as they walked, at all times willing -and capable- of taking a flattering candid shot. Paparazzi eventually appeared who weren't silent, however, and the experience went from a hassle to a headache very quickly. It was one thing to be photographed, but to have people shout at you the whole time, it was no wonder they got so many grumpy shots. Who wouldn't be grumpy after having shouting people surround you no further than five feet away while flashing bright lights in your eyes for several hours? Anyone who could withstand that was a better man than him.
"Draco! Draco! How did you take the news of Ginny's pregnancy?" they shouted, demanded, swarmed. Draco blinked at them for a moment, caught off guard by the question, that question of all questions far from the top of things he expected to be posed to him that day. He sighed however, with a slight pinkness setting into his cheeks and a squareness in his shoulders as he smiled bashfully.
"Draco, how do you feel about being a father again?"
"Draco, will you be revealing the identity of the mother or mothers of your first two children?"
"Draco, how did the Weasley family take the news?"
"Does this mean there will be a marriage in your future?"
"Draco, was there any point you doubted the paternity of the child?"
"Boy or girl?"
"When is she due?"
Everyone was posing him questions, one after another, them practically calling over each other so he couldn't have answered them even if he had wanted to or tried.
"Ginny and I couldn't be happier," he said quietly, flashbulbs erupting, his voice almost drown out but Draco not fighting to be heard, they would hear him if they wanted to.
"Why have you not revealed that she is pregnant before now?" another asked.
"Because of this very reaction you are giving," Draco laughed, pushing forward with Clarissa toted along by her hand, to push past some of the photographers who were congesting the already narrow streets and making it difficult for anyone to get their shopping done. The common people gave glares of contempt at Draco, like he had welcomed this mess, like he was enjoying himself, and they resented him for the hassle his presence created for them. He knew they blamed him, not the stupid paparazzi, and he wished he could stop them and explain that he hated the attention as much as they hated that he got it, but there was nothing he could do, and no way he would ever be able to convince anyone to believe him.
"Draco," Ginny said, Draco and Ginny meeting in the middle of Diagon Alley, having pushed forward to meet coming from opposite directions. A photog-moment presented itself as Draco leaned in to give Ginny a small, very chaste, peck on the lips as a greeting. Not some extravagant PDA that the tabloids would surely write it up as, but just a typical greeting between two adults in a relationship…but that's not the reaction they got with the flashing and the calling and even a few cheers and praise. With the amount of excitement that erupted from the crowd, one would think Draco had just swooped Ginny backwards into his arms and planted the most passionate kiss on her film had ever recorded.
"Why don't we get inside before we go completely blind," Draco muttered to her, him wearing sunglasses for this exact reason, noticing how un-thrilled his son looked, and how intimidated his daughter appeared, and how tired around the eyes Ginny seemed. They escaped into a business, a small shop where they could eat, a dark place where they couldn't be seen. There were no windows, no way for anyone to get a picture of them for as long as they were inside, sanctuary, for the time it took them to eat a meal. For Draco, that actually could be a long while.
"Oh, my, God," Ginny said, sitting down with Draco, the children across from them at the round table.
"Today of all days?" Draco asked, looking at Ginny's large tummy, bared for all to see. She was still dressed conservatively, but seven months pregnant was hard to disguise, her `girls' a little demanding of attention themselves while so snuggly contained in the straining blouse.
"It was hot, prosecute me," she said, taking a sip of the water that was already laid out for them.
"I got my wand!" Clarissa announced, hoping her big event would not be overshadowed by anything, not even the pending news that her father had gotten a job. She wanted her moment to brag.
"Really? What did it end up being?" Ginny asked kindly.
"Elder, ten inches long, Phoenix tail feather!" she said, pulling it out to show the group her newest most prized position.
"Only ten inches?" Michelangelo scoffed.
"Yeah, because I'm not trying to compensate for anything," Clarissa retorted and Draco had to take a sip of water to stop himself from laughing at Michelangelo's expense. What Clarissa had said was mean, but Michelangelo had been antagonistic, so he got what was due, and he would not step in unless things escalated. Still it wasn't nice to laugh.
"A Phoenix, wow, I hadn't expected that," Ginny said with a smile, Clarissa so alight with pride you would think she was the one that was a proud parent to be. She had a new baby, a wand, and she handled it with such tenderness, setting it down so gently, Ginny had to laugh. There would be a point when that wand would find its way into mud, it would get disarmed and tossed across a room to clatter on the floor, it would get stuck in unmentionable substances and rapped off of all sorts of objects, but for a short time it was shiny and new and therefore delicate as glass in Clarissa's eyes.
"It is a handsome wand, if I do say so myself," Draco said with an air of sophistication.
"It is a masculine wand then?" Ginny asked, Draco nodding, Clarissa giggling.
"Mr. Ollivander seemed convinced I would work best with a feminine wand, tried all sorts of varieties, but none of them worked. This one he tried only as a last resort, and it was the perfect fit!"
"He said something about her needing more of a balance rather than something that complemented her," Draco elaborated. Clarissa was just so darn sweet, she didn't need a sweet wand.
"Dragons are better," Michelangelo said ruefully.
"I like dragons, but phoenixes are wonderful too," Draco said, trying to prevent his children from bickering.
"Mr. Ollivander said that Daddy had a unicorn hair in his wand," Clarissa said and Draco looked pained, like he wished his daughter had not just said that.
"A unicorn hair?" Ginny laughed.
"I always thought you had a piece of a Dragon in your wand," Michelangelo said, almost challenging him to say he was wrong.
"There is nothing wrong with unicorns, they are very powerful magical beasts," Draco mumbled.
"They are sissy," Michelangelo said.
"Powerful magical beasts," Draco repeated, though pouting.
"Aw, that is so cute! I can totally see you with a unicorn wand! A feminine wand, who knew?" Ginny laughed, Draco's pout only setting in place.
"Your brother Ron has a unicorn hair wand," Draco argued.
"And I never let him hear the end of it," Ginny laughed as the waiter came to them, reading off to them their options and taking their orders, saving Draco from being teased further…for the time being.
Author's Note/Summery:
A trip to Diagon Alley, something I had been waiting to write for ages. Gringott was a fun scene; Clarissa and Michelangelo are so fun to write, poor Clarissa had not enjoyed the railcar ride. Clarissa is darling, however, and Draco wants a little girl SO bad. Draco and Ginny cuteness is fun too. He gave her a flower, awwww. Clarissa getting her wand was a scene I had planned out from nearly the beginning of this whole story. I just loved the thought of her being so sweet and Ollivander so unimpressed. The way she handles her wand later, as thought it were the most precious and delicate thing ever seemed realistic in my eyes, yes? I did that with my wand, until I snapped it in half *feels like Ron* Ginny and Michael scenes are fun too, he is such a brat. You keep asking "what will bring them together?" Nachos. What? Yeah, like I would actually give you the real answer at this point? =P
GINNY REVEALED THE PREGNANCY! Well, I'M excited. I love how she did it too, just like BAM no nonsense. I tried to keep it so Hollywood with the paparazzi. Baby-shower? Haven't written one yet, I sort'a forgot. *shifty eyes* but the beauty of writing ahead is I can adapt what I have to include things asked for or questioned. Baby Shower you ask? On the way. :]
DRACO HAS A JOB! Wow, I'm just full of fun developments and good news this chapter aren't I. He also REALLY doesn't seem to like it when people say stuff about his hairline, if you haven't noticed so far in this fic. YAY for Oliver Wood. How could I NOT have him in this fic, right? *drools* More of hi to come from now on. Stupid DUMBledore. If he weren't already dead I would wish he were dead. I kind'a feel bad for how Draco was treated by his boss at first, but that is just how things are for werewolves, so this isn't me "picking on Draco again" this is just him being a werewolf, a sort of fact of life I guess.
We close with the start of lunch (next chapter picks right up at lunch, no worries) and we got to make fun of poor Draco. A unicorn hair wand? I always wrote him as having such in all honesty, and now it is cannon, so I win…even though cannon sucks and Jo needs to choke on a pair of hairy balls. *smiles sweetly*
I hope you all liked the chapter that lacked both a LOT of angst and a flashback. Get ready for chapter 9, it's coming at you soon, and damn it I want reviews! I'm a needy, greedy, demanding bitch. That's right, I said it, so do it!
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