Happily Ever After
Chapter Three
If Blaise were to be stuck anywhere, with anyone, for a particularly long period of time, it would only be natural to him to hope that his partner in suffering should be Draco Malfoy. Not because he wished any undue (or `due', which was more likely) harm on his friend, but because he and Draco had always worked together as a team. It was only fair that they should suffer the same way, as it was more than likely the actions of their team efforts that would land them in captivity in the first place.
This natural order of things was well established in Blaise's mind, which was why it was with such envy, annoyance, and barely concealed eye rolling that he watched Draco and Ginny dance. It was not fair that he should be stuck with the dulcet, malicious, and thoroughly awful Druella when Draco got to actually enjoy his evening with Ginny.
The bright-headed witch Draco held in his arms was smiling prettily, her eyes sparkling with mischief and intelligence. Druella, the stunning, albeit wretchedly idiotic brunette beside him, had her lips curled most unattractively over her teeth in a pointless display of disgust and misplaced arrogance. Blaise struggled, for not the first time that evening, not to reach over and wrap his fingers around her scrawny little neck and squeeze for all he was worth. If he could have traded her in for a girl like Ginny, who he knew from a past working relationship to be a cultured, sophisticated woman, who lived happily and without prejudice, he would do so in an instant.
He watched her lips move from across the ballroom and imagined how stimulating her conversation must be in comparison to the sad excuse for polite exchange he was being forced to endure with his date.
Her idea of conversation included snotty remarks about unfortunate fashion choices on the part of other poor females, and blithe remarks about the dreadful state of the Malfoy name, that Draco should be forced to dance with a Weasley at his own party.
Blaise bit his tongue to stop himself from spitting out that he would much rather dance with Weasley than herself.
He could not, however, quite restrain the urge to sigh dramatically, and exhaled a long held and long suffered breath from the pit of his stomach, which, satisfactorily, annoyed his companion. As he watched Draco and Ginny twirl once more around the floor, he smiled.
Druella glared.
***
Draco infused into his dancing much of what Ginny privately thought made up his personality in real life: passion, intensity, and a feral predatory grace which more than hinted at danger.
She wasn't sure what the dance was called. She wasn't even entirely certain that it was any one dance in particular. She wasn't an expert, but it seemed like he was simply leading her around with whatever moves struck him at the particular moment. A dip, into a slide, into a light toss, into a twirl, into a spin, into a- oh, goodness. Was that even legal?
A blinding flash flared in her eyes and she realized that she had just had her picture taken while Draco's hand was roving its way up the slit in her dress along her thigh. Draco didn't bat an eyelash.
She supposed that, being him, he was used to having photographers march in to ruin perfect moments.
Perfect moments?
That was the wrong path to follow. Ginny shook her head.
But it was no use trying to clear her mind when Draco Malfoy was twirling her around in such a way that her mind was so gloriously addled that her brain forgot its reasoning in wanting to be clear in the first place.
After a few more moments, the music finally came to a close. Only when Draco had stopped them, somewhere near the center of the floor, did Ginny realize that the rest of the couples had dispersed to the sides of the floor, leaving just the two of them to thoroughly bedazzle the entire crowd. Wondering where, exactly, her senses had fled to, she stared around her with a puzzled expression screwing up her face.
"Miss Weasley?" Draco asked, being far more gallant than she had expected him to be. He held his hand out, having let her go for the moment, leaving her decidedly and unexpectedly cold where his hands had been on her back and waist. Which was ridiculous, as she was otherwise flushed from the exertion.
"Mr. Malfoy," she said politely, ignoring the inane urge to be sarcastic and bowing her head demurely. She didn't really see the point in pretending she was some perfectly behaved society miss, now that she had completely boggled the minds of the ton mama's and the stately matrons with both her dress and her completely risqué dancing, but Draco didn't seem like the type of man who would react well to her flippancy. She placed her hand in his and stared blankly when he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. He truly was a mystery.
She cast about for something to say, but only came up with drivel.
"We've gathered a crowd," she said, feeling instantly stupid for pointing out something so obvious. She may as well have commented on the weather, or the size of the room, or the number of couples. He nodded, as was polite, and she couldn't help but feel like he was laughing at her inadequacies. She clenched her teeth.
"I would like some Firewhisky," she said suddenly, blurting out her favorite drink without thinking. Firewhisky? Hard alcohol at a party where only fine wines and fruity spirits would be served? Goodness, she really was a mess. Draco, to his credit, barely widened his eyes before smiling indulgently at her.
"Firewhisky? I will see to it. Come with me." He turned and half drug her to the bar, where he whispered a few words to the bartender, who grinned toothily at Ginny and stepped into the back room. He emerged a few seconds later with a freshly popped bottle of still smoking Firewhisky.
"Good choice, miss. If you don't mind me saying," he winked at her, "it's high time more ladies started experimenting a little `sides Margarita's and prissy little drinks."
Suddenly the drink in her hand seemed more like a necessity, rather than just a craving. She took a long drink,
ignoring the look of pure amusement plastered across Draco's face as he watched her. It was growing extremely
tiresome, knowing that his eyes were on her every second. She had just started her second wind when he tapped her elbow
sharply. She lowered the bottle from her lips to see Blaise and a coldly superior looking date standing a few feet from
her, watching her expectantly.
"Hello, Miss Weasley," Blaise said, his charming grin in full force. Ginny couldn't help smiling back. Blaise had always been kind to her, even in school. It had been a mystery to her why he would choose Draco as a friend. He was so sweet and devilishly handsome and such a charmer.
"Oh, call me Ginny, please. Especially after working together for so long-," she faltered, realizing just how rude it was that she should give Blaise permission to use her given name when Draco was standing right beside her, and she had not yet offered the honor to him. "And you as well, Mr. Malfoy," she said quickly.
"So is it true you dated Harry Potter?" Blaise's date interrupted, just as Draco opened his mouth. Ginny was taken aback, seeing the outright contempt and challenge in the woman's eyes. She raised an eyebrow, determined not to make a fool of herself.
"I did." She said, her voice strong. She wasn't ashamed, even in present company. She had loved Harry; did still. She still missed him every day. This stupid bimbo wasn't going to make her say different.
"Then what are you doing here? You have no business in proper society, coming from the mud you do." Her flinty eyes shot venom with every word, and Ginny was once again reminded just where she was.
Ginny's father had once told her that she would not be like the other children she played with. She wouldn't be allowed to see some of them once they started school. They would be separated forever. And her friends were wizards and witches, just like her. She had asked why, and her father hadn't been able to answer her. He didn't know.
Through her school years, she had eventually figured out for herself that hatred clouded the judgment of those too weak to see through it. She learned through trial and error who would accept her, and who would scorn her. She had always counted Draco amongst those who would scorn her. Maybe she still did; she certainly didn't fully trust him yet.
Some people, she found, were like snakes. They would slither around you, round and round, until you thought you knew them completely and utterly, and then, out of nowhere, their real skins would come to light. Prejudice, and hatred, all consuming and blinding.
And others, like Blaise's date, felt no need to conceal their feelings. Ginny was dirt to them. She was nothing. Superiority and a false sense of achievement would trump all reason, and even though Ginny was personally invited by Draco Malfoy, the Dark Prince himself, she was still no more than a common tramp, no matter what her true actions were.
It was these who were impossible to deal with. Anything she would say would be turned against her, twisted, or ignored completely. No matter that every bone in her body was crying for her to exact vengeance, magical means or no, she clenched her fists and neatly arranged her face into an expression of polite disinterest and blithe airiness.
"You don't belong here," the woman said, sensing victory. Blaise and Draco were too shocked to say anything. Ginny allowed herself a small smile.
"I know. I wore too much black." She turned her smile into a self-deprecating grin, cheekily motioning to her dress.
"So you fancy yourself a wit, then."
"Never," Ginny said, tilting her head to the side. "Just stunningly attractive." She flashed another smile. Draco looked at her with his eyebrows raised.
"Vanity is a deadly sin," the other woman pointed out.
"Yes, well," Ginny pointedly looked the woman up and down, from her stick thin legs to her twiggy arms, "So is gluttony."
The woman colored and shrieked, before grabbing Blaise's arm and hauling him away in a frustrated rage. He looked back at Ginny apologetically, and she smiled ruefully back at him. It would be nice to have coffee with him some day. He was a nice man.
"There's something different about you," Draco said, somewhere to her left, "and I can't
quite put my finger on it."
"You actually remember me from school?" She turned to him, surprised.
"Not really. Skinny little thing with bright carroty hair and freckles like nothing I'd ever seen." She glared. "Which is definitely not how I would describe you now, mind you."
She eyed him with annoyance. "Well, what is it then?"
"I don't know." He reached out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. "But I think it's a good thing."
"Good. Well, I'll leave you to puzzle it out." She started to leave, but he grabbed her wrist.
"Wait, Ginny. Have dinner with me tomorrow night." She liked the way he said her name, like he was tasting the letters as well as forming the word in his mouth.
"I-"
"Please?" She was sure that he said `please' almost as often as he said `I'm sorry'. She nodded slowly, not really sure why it seemed like a good idea.
"I will send you an owl in the morning. Goodnight, Ginny." He kissed her knuckles again and turned and stalked into the crowd, leaving her with only her Firewhisky and a very confused heart beat.
"or the size of the room, or the number of couples." - A loose reference to Pride and Prejudice, by the brilliant Jane Austen.
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