Unofficial Portkey Archive

Ginevra

While you've been away cavorting
Matters here have moved apace
Now I need you home supporting
All the plans I've put in place

Soon our monarch will have filled a
Tomb just like his fathers did

-

It was the wee hours of the morning by the time everything had quietened down in Malfoy House, the House Elves were finally resting, guests had returned home and it had been decided that the Minister and his daughters were to stay at the house that night. The night, of which, had been through it's darkest hours and was now relenting to the persistent dawn that was lightening the sky more and more every minute. The morning had an eerie silence, as though it knew three condemned witches lay in the bowels of the Malfoy's dungeons, birds did not yet chirp, no hustle and bustle of Londoners rushing to work; it was a few moments of perfect silence for Draco, who felt he never heard such a soundless time unless he was off with his men, his troops, exploring and scouring the lesser known parts of not only Britain but the world.

He was sat, back ram-rod straight, behind his father's desk, awaiting Lucius' return. He could feel his spine tense and begging to sag under the intense pressure the formality of his home put him under. He missed his travels already…he wasn't ready to be sat behind an office desk all day, like his father seemed to be. He wasn't ready to feel suffocated by four walls for the majority of his day, dealing with trivial matters and allowing others - as he did now for the Ministry - to carry out his orders and have adventure while the most mystery he had was what the House Elves were cooking for dinner that night. He did not envy his father's way of life, or in fact, envy Sebastian's either. For a long time he'd been content, comfortable. Nothing particularly ailed him anymore, then she had arrived. Ginevra Weasley. A strong and fierce witch, a witch so unlike the pureblood wives, a witch so different to Daphne: She was an incessant reminder of Potter and the Order and self-righteous goodness practically oozed from her very soul. Why had he not just killed her? Why had he not sent her execution slip to be signed by the Minister, along with her comrade's?

Truthfully, he didn't know.

"Draco."

Without turning to face the direction of the voice, Draco knew it was his father. His father standing tall and opposing; long, sleek, blonde hair tied back with a sapphire ribbon, decked in the finest robes even though no one was here to appreciate them and looking impassive and unimpressed, as usual.

"Father," greeted the younger Malfoy, feeling slightly nervous as he always did with his back exposed to another, let alone a ruthless wizard who did not prevaricate over shooting the odd Cruciatus

curse at his son, just to show him who to respect, of course.

All black silk, long limbs and white blonde hair, Lucius swiftly returned to his favoured position - sitting behind his mahogany desk in his tall, dark green chair - and silently observed his son for a few moments. Everyone said Draco was the spitting image of him; they were wrong. While his son had adopted his colouring from his father - pale skin, blue-grey eyes and platinum blonde locks - his features, the curvature of his face, the shape of his eyes had come from Narcissa's Black family genes. Draco was more effortlessly handsome than his father, stronger of stature and taller than most Malfoy men reached. His hair was shaggy and would become wavy were it not tended to, whereas Lucius' was pin-straight regardless of what was done to it. But the aesthetic was irrelevant, Lucius was certain that on the inside, Draco was his father's son.

"Sebastian's ill --"

"Yes, Daphne mention --"

"Do not interrupt, Boy." Hissed his father. An awkward silence followed his words, Draco refusing to look down but not willing to defiantly meet his father's eye either. Lucius glanced out of the window and seeing there would not be much time before the insanity of daytime ensued, he continued. "As I said, Sebastian is ill. He's dying, Draco. Within about ten days there will be no leader on our thrown. I know you were due to leave again in a couple of days but you are now required to stay here."

"What?"

Lucius smiled, slowly and cruelly. "Draco, while you have been ff gallivanting for weeks I have been here putting plans into place that will benefit out family. You are going to be a leader, son. Malfoy's will once again command respect and we shall have the supremacy we deserved after the Dark Lord's death."

"For months Voldemort had not planned on making you his second in command!" Draco whispered harshly, being unafraid to call The Dark Lord by his preferred name, he's even once or twice called the man Tom, but the punishments had been so severe he'd not dared do that for years. It was amazing, he thought, how even at nineteen - two years a man - his father could still hold such a power over him. Yet, Abraxas Malfoy had held Lucius under an iron fist until the day he died of Dragon Pox.

"No." Glared his father, flint eyes flashing with malice. "But I deserved it. For years I was his most loyal servant, I performed tasks he trusted no one else with. I deserved that title of Minister." He felt himself begin to fume before his son's very eyes. Lucius had always maintained, even out of the public view that he'd thought Greengrass a great leader, a strong Minister and someone he respected, now the man before him looked manic and bitter and resentful. "You do not understand, Draco. I had such power…such power; respect, and protection."

Lucius had been seduced by Voldemort's words and plans at the tender age of sixteen. He finished his last year at Hogwarts sporting the very first Dark Mark. It had burnt all the time, oh dear sweet Merlin how it scalded and blistered continuously; his master always wanting Lucius, Voldemort's most trusted confidant, at his side. Seven years later the Dark Lord had gained enough followers, enough notoriety, to begin purifying the world against those of less than pure bloodlines. During this time Lucius and the Malfoys had enjoyed a privileged existence, never fearing returning home to see the Dark mark hovering above their houses. Knowing their families would always be provided for.

At the age of twenty-three Lucius Malfoy learned he would become a father; his young, beautiful wife, Narcissa, had, had her pregnancy confirmed by Healers that afternoon and Lucius couldn't have felt more proud. He was practically bursting with his jubilance even as he felt the dark mark upon his arm burn - a telltale sign trouble was stirring. The Dark Lord meant to begin his first attack of the month, the wedding of Lily Evans and James Potter, the Ministry's Golden Couple. Two of the most promising Aurors of their class, Head Boy and Girl jus that previous year at Hogwarts, rich, beautiful and noble through and through. Pure Gryffindor to the core, scoffed Lucius. He'd always hated the Potter's…nearly as much as he hated the Weasleys. Arrogant and always so sanctimonious; it made him sick.

Everyone who was everyone was invited to the Potter's wedding reception. They hadn't wanted a grand affair but it was insisted upon by friends - people needed cheering. Something, anything, to lift the spirits. The Dark Lord had been unrealities in his attack recently. Becoming more vicious, obvious and sadistic. Even Muggles began to notice. Good, thought Lucius, why should they be forced to hide? They, the wizards, were not the inferior race, after all.

"Lucius, the loyal." Voldemort hissed. The man he'd once been - Tom Riddle - had been handsome, pale skin and thick dark hair, but the man whom Lucius now knelt before looked waxy and corpse-like, his hair lank. However, although he lacked his ocular attractiveness his charisma was still very much so intact. His skills of persuasion and his ability to chill a crowd to the very core with his words. Lucius could not help but be enamoured by him. "Look at me, Malfoy. A child? Interesting. Pass on my congratulations to …Narcissa." He smiled, but not a smile of pleasantries and good will. He didn't think his Master had the ability to smile an altruistic smile any longer.

"Touching." Sniped Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius' sister-in-law. "Tell me, Lucius, when did 'Cissy think about revealing to me the news of our newest addition to the Black family tree?"

"Malfoy. He will be a Malfoy, Bella." She cackled slightly and Voldemort silently sent a hex flying towards her. The pink light hit her directly in the abdomen, winding her it seemed. She began to cough and choke.

"Silly, Bella, do you think we have time to trifle with your pathetic jealousy that you are no longer the pinnacle in your youngest sister's life?" She shut up. Lucius smirked and cheered inwardly; regardless of the Dark Lord's words, he'd silenced her to protect Lucius. He may have not been humane but he knew loyalty did Voldemort, he rewarded those which had always been there. Lucius meant more than even he knew to the Dark Lord, more than even Bellatrix, a woman consumed with her adoration of Tom Riddle. And oh, how he loved to be adored.

Lucius pulled down his mask as the rest of the Inner Circle began to Apparate in. They too were decked in black robes and long masks, each of their arms burning as though set aflame. They stood in a circle, in the same places every time, the Dark Lord in the centre watched with reverence by all. A place in the circle, however, was broken; Severus Snape, he was not going to be there at this attack, he could not bear to watch. And it was not that Lily Evans could be killed this day, though that certainly factored into it, it was that by the time they arrived she would no longer be Evans…but Potter and how, how could he stand to see the woman he loved in a dress of ivory having taken his enemies name.

"Calm yourselves." The high voice cracked the air, "I want your focus, I want your dedication to this cause. Many Mudbloods and Muggle Loving fools will be present this evening and I want the world irradiated of their sort. I want to be pure, I want our world to be pure. We take away their leaders, their heroes, and the rest will lose their faith. Lily and James Potter…the shortest marriage ever known!" He cackled loudly. "Go!"

The resounding crack of twenty apparating witches and wizards echoed throughout the hall, proclaiming the arrival of a score of Death Eaters, along with their leader. However, the screams of hundreds of panicked guests never came, nor the gasps of horror or screams of terror, in fact the only sound was that of more apparating, fifty Aurors standing around the edge of the vast hall, barricading the exits, their wands pointed, their stances poised - ready for the attack.

"We had bought the date of our wedding forward, Tom, did you not receive the memo?" Jeered a cocky James Potter. The rest of the Aurors, although a majority thinking it unwise to provoke such a large group reckless and vindictive wizards, shared the laugh at their expense.

"You dare, Potter, you dare to make fools of us?" Spat Lucius, standing before his master, soon joined by Bellatrix, Barty Crouch Jnr. And Rudolphus. But, of course, all identities hidden by the insidious masks about their faces.

"Idiots." Hissed the Dark Lord so only they could hear him, "Bombarda!" He pointed his wand directly at the ceiling and suddenly everyone watched for a moment as though frozen in time, staring as the roof began to crack and cave in. "Fools!" Voldemort clung to Lucius and Bella while they clutched to Barty and Rudolphus. Everyone else had began running, apparating to different points of the enclosure and hexing one another in the pandemonium, desperate to cause casualties to the other side regardless of their impending doom. Suddenly the Dark Lord had apparated away with his most loyal.

That night Lucius lay beside his wife, secure that he would always have his idol. His leader. A man he could guarantee needed him as much as he needed him. He would forever be strong at the right hand side of the Dark Lord, he would always hold so much power in his world.

"I was prized above all others, Draco, and because of children I was sent to Azkaban and the Dark Lord never trusted me again…and you, my Son, you had the opportunity to rekindle that when he gave you your first mission but you failed and now you owe us this! Yes, me and your Mother, Draco. You owe it to us to stay behind, to stay in London and fulfil any duties asked of you. Do you not want to live the life we once loved and held so dear?"

Draco swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. Lucius stood and poured himself a fire whiskey from the decanter by the window, he swallowed it in one gulp and then breathed in loudly, frustrated. He turned to his son and threw the glass with great malice on the ground at his heir's feet. "All to be replaced, Draco, replaced!"

"Father…"

"Out. Get out!"

-

Daphne brushed her long, lustrous hair as she sat at the vanity, gazing at her reflection without really seeing. On her mind was the redhead in the dungeons, floors below her. The woman had not left her mind all night. She'd never met someone that made her question her world, that made her wonder if everything was, in fact, okay. She didn't think she could ever recall watching such a horrific act - draining the magic of a witch, a Pureblood, no less. Weasley. She knew them, of course, who had missed the trouble making, quick tempered redheads at Hogwarts. Those who praised goodness and loyalty and strength of heart and character over appearances and society.

She had, however, never paid any heed to the young girl. She was not in the same year and not older and certainly nothing special. The only time the girl had registered on her radar was when she'd begun dating Harry Potter. Oh, and Zabini had mentioned her looks once or twice, in passing. But now it baffles her how she'd never witnessed the pure fire the girl seemed to possess. Draco, too, had been impressed by her, she could tell. He admired strength. That was why she tried so hard to remain strong in front of him, in front of everyone. Daphne had not cried in the view of someone else since she was nine.

Draco…he'd seemed so attentive last night. So there with her. She could count on one hand how many times she'd felt she held Draco's attention and she could also probably count the minutes each incidence had lasted on the other hand. They were short, brief moments in time that flitted infrequently in her life and she cherished each one lovingly. Caressing the memories in the night when he had been absent for weeks or days at a time and although she'd yet to kiss him or even touch him in a way that was less than chaste, she longed for him. Yearned for him. She heard the bedroom door open and found herself blushing at being caught thinking such things about a man she wasn't even properly engaged to yet. It was her sister. She was as tall as Daphne but thoroughly resembled their Mother's side of the family with her dark brown hair and olive skin, starkly contrasting her pale and blonde sister.

"Astoria?"

"Morning, Daphh." She yawned and curled up, looking extremely reminiscent of a cat on her sisters bed. She was two years younger than Daphne and had always looked up to the girl, looking to her to act as a mother-figure.

She was wearing a set of casual, but impeccably well-made robes. "You'll crease your clothes - sit up." The younger girl complied with her sisters words and continued to watch as she beautified herself, applying a glamour to hide the bags she'd acquired beneath her eyes after a sleepless night.

"Now," she stood. "Do I wear these?" She held up a set of burnt orange robes which, you could tell, would be fairly busty, "or these?" This time she switched the robes for a midnight blue robe that had a little scoop neck and were fashioned of Chinese silk.

"The blue." Replied her sister, looking unconcerned. "Why is it so important? You normally wear what you like whether it causes astir or not." This was very true. Daphne had long ago given up on adolescent insecurities about her appearance and wore daring, dramatic robes and dress to shock and impress and enthral the people around her.

"I'm out with Draco today, I would rather not gain too much attention…I want time alone with him."

"Draco." Sneered her sister, "he barely talks to you, Daphh. Why do you waste your heart on him?"

"How dare you!" Gasped Daphne as she was halfway through pulling off her dressing gown, "I will be married to this man eventually. And - and I love him, Astoria. It's better I love and not loathe him, isn't it? If I am going to be told who to marry I should at least make the best of it…and anyway, I have always loved him. For years I watched him."

"Merlin. You shouldn't have to change who you are for him either. Wear what you'd normally wear - you're so afraid of upstaging him aren't you? Afraid you'll dent that impermeable ego of his." She sighed loudly as she watched her sister pull the robe over her underwear-clad body and readjust her hair once more, back to it's former perfection. "You look beautiful, Daphne." The blonde straightened her back and looked at her sister's reflection in the mirror, stared directly in her eyes.

"Thank you, Astoria," her voice was cold, unfeeling. "Now, go and eat your breakfast."

Straightening the imaginary wrinkles out of her robes, she sniffed, held her head high and walked out of the Malfoy's guest room.

-

"Draco." She greeted her betrothed, looking elegant and composed, as usual.

"Morning, Daphne." He chastely brushed his lips against her cheek and she smiled, warmly. He felt her smiling and took her hand in his. It wasn't her fault they were to be engaged and, after all, he still had a year did he not, before they tied the knot. The least he could do was, like her, make the best of a less than satisfying arrangement. She was attractive, pleasant and well-behaved; nice. Yes, nice was the best way to describe the eldest Greengrass daughter, and cute. Nice and cute. She would be an excellent wife.

"I thought we could walk through London, perhaps stop at a patisserie?" He suggested.

She nodded, smiling. That sounded wonderful.

Photographers were out in force, snapping pictures of the young coupe everywhere they went. Snapping images of them shopping together, Daphne giggling as Draco modelled a large hat that was about as tall as it was wide. Draco snickering when Daphne fell out of a changing room decked in the most atrocious outfit he'd been able to find. It was nice, he decided, spending time with someone of his ilk. His standing. They snobbishly laughed at the same things. People that looked as though they'd be hit with a confounds charm before pulling on their clothing for the day. She looks as though she battled with a Boggart before falling out of her wardrobe! Daphne had cattily remarked, Draco had to agree.

They were both sitting in the window of a little chocolatier, tasting the different confectionaries at the end of their date, Daphne sipping a mocha and Draco a black coffee as they suggested various chocolates for one another, trying to find their favourites. Daphne discovered Vanilla Caramels were her favourite and although Draco tried to hide it, Spiced Maya Hearts had been his preference (although, he's said laughing, it was hardly the most masculine choice!).

Silence had enveloped the couple or a moment. Then suddenly Daphne voiced what had been in her mind all last night and what had been niggling her throughout the day, "what will happen to Weasley?"

"Hm?" Draco had been broken out of his reverie, wondering if he'd been muttering his thoughts aloud for he too had been focusing on the redhead who was currently residing in his family home's dungeon. "Honestly? I don't know. I can't see father letting her work in our house. And it wouldn't be proper for me to take her into my service, and, well, she wouldn't exactly be loyal in my troops."

They sighed in unison.

"So she is simply to rot in jail, is this what you're saying?" She snapped, hating him suddenly.

"No, no." At least, he added silently, though not really knowing why he'd thought this at all, I hope not.

-

"Sebastian?"

"Lucius; come in."

The tall, long haired man strode into the Minister's office and smirked as he handed him three death warrants. Hermione Granger, worthless-know-it-all-Mudblood. Luna Lovegood, laughable and naive. Hannah Abbott, half blooded bitch who's stupid mother should have had better taste in men. The Minister read the papers carefully and Lucius examined his impeccable fingernails as he did so, the only sounds coming from a likely crackling fire.

Half an hour after entering the eldest Malfoy left the office a smug, self-satisfied grin plastered across his features. Three down, one to go. Ginevra Weasley would not hold Daphne Greengrass' attentions for long. She'd soon forget about the girl when the new season of robes was revealed and then, then he'd have the red haired bint executed too.

-

Hey.

Second chapter up. I'm actually so excited about this fic -- I haven't felt like this about a plotline or characters in ages! So, I hope you're enjoying reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

Not too much Ginny in this chapter, but as you can see she certainly is already causing a stir.

Next chapter I introduce another new character - an original one - and I love him lots (:

Is currently being proof read by the wonderful Alexandria Malfoy - so, I shall post the lovely grammatically correct one later!

I'd love some reviews, if you'd be so kind.

Tash.