A Girl's Best Friend, Part IV - Amber
"Amber prevents losses caused by fire or inundations. It ensures virility. It prevents adultery."
Leonine de Beaufort. "Flora, fauna, and oddities of the Foret de Blois".
France. XVIIIth century A.D.
"Dear Miss. Weasley,
I apologize for the events at the charity. Astoria was rather inebriated and did not realise the consequences of her words. I hope you will forgive her, though I understand that her actions are not worthy of clemency, and that you will agree to keep working on our engagement ring.
If you are willing to pursue our agreement, please meet me, as planned, on Wednesday at five o'clock, in front of Malfoy Manor. We will then head over to what you referred to as a "place of significance" for Astoria and myself.
If you would like our agreement to cease, please indicate so, but I will admit that I would be sorry to cease dealing with you.
Warm regards,
-- Draco Malfoy"
***
Ginny had met Draco on the front porch of Malfoy Manor, where they took a calèche headed only he knew where. They drove along a path that, Draco explained, ran across the entire Malfoy estate, leading them through fields of grass and fields of wheat so golden Ginny could have turned the ochre strands into necklaces. The coach stopped right next to a small wood, where rows of sunflowers sprawled until they reached the horizon. Draco helped the young woman descend from the coach, handed her a white umbrella, and proceeded to guide her through the tall sunflowers that reached their shoulders. Ginny, pleasantly surprised by the trip and the glorious sun, followed him with enthusiasm and curiosity. At last, they reached a clearing amidst the sunflowers, lost in the shimmering sea of yellow petals. Draco unfurled a white cloth and motioned for Ginny to sit on it as he summoned a picnic basket from the calèche.
"This is interesting, to say the least," Ginny said brightly as sandwiches, cheese, fruits, and wine danced from the basket to the center of the cloth.
"I took Astoria here for her twenty-sixth birthday," he explained, and sat down in front of her. "She wanted something different, so I brought her to this place, because it's exactly that."
"How did you find it?"
Draco shrugged.
"During the summers, my father kept me for an extra month after classes were over so that I could learn things."
"Things," Ginny said dubiously.
"Not Dark Arts, if that's what you're wondering," he retorted, and from the blush that spread across her cheeks he saw guessed it had been the case. "Latin, French, a bit of German, some fencing, horse-back riding, of course… Need I say more?"
"No, I think I have a fairly good idea of the education your father was trying to impart upon you," Ginny snickered.
"Only the best," he replied, and handed her a glass of wine.
"Only the best, indeed," she repeated, rolling her eyes.
He was happy to see the ease with which she had adopted the clearing, and the fact that her tight demeanour seemed to be relaxing somewhat.
"So you brought Astoria here for her twenty-sixth birthday. Did you bring enough wine to quench her thirst?" she added sarcastically.
"Astoria doesn't usually drink as much as she did the other night, and I am really sorry she behaved that way. She is incredibly ashamed and begs your forgiveness."
Somehow, Ginny strongly doubted that, but she nodded nonetheless, and then motioned for him to carry on.
"You see, Astoria grew up in a family much like my own, where one measures love in terms of Galleons squandered on presents, and where time together is only spent at mealtimes. I was lucky enough that my parents loved each other so strongly that, in their desire to fully experience their love before they walked into the steps of their ancestors, they took a year to travel the world."
The news surprised Ginny, who had never expected Draco's parents to be united by ties of actual affection.
"During that year, they saw many beautiful things - from landscapes to museums, jungles so deep the sun could not seep through their canopies, and temples so ancient that only magic held them up - but none so beautiful as the simple pleasures wizards across the world find. My mother claims she never felt more at peace than she did on the flank of a mountain in Switzerland; apparently it overlooked a lake and several other mountain ranges, and sitting there with my father in the cool air of the morning made her understand the importance of happiness not obtained through money."
Ginny was quite familiar with that happiness, as it had carried her through childhood and had bathed her family with constant contentment despite their relative poverty. Of course, nowadays, monetary comfort was added to her relatives' blessings, so that even though the Burrow's garden remained her favourite vacation place, her parents and siblings occasionally travelled to Provence or Romania.
"I wanted to communicate some of that happiness to Astoria, because the feeling of wholeness I get from sitting here and watching the sunflowers slowly follow the sun's course is unlike anything else I've ever experienced."
In any other circumstance, Draco would have been horrified at the poetic honesty he could feel pouring from his heart; but this clearing had an almost magical effect on him - he had always known it - and he decided to blame his comfort and sense of intimacy on the place rather than Ginny's presence.
"Unfortunately, she…" he shrugged and smiled. "She didn't like it as much as I did. She didn't really understand."
Ginny nodded.
"Of course, she pretended to be thrilled, and acted like she didn't mind the occasional bits of grass or petals that got stuck in her hair."
He neglected to explain how exactly the grass and petals had found their way into Astoria's hair, but he had the sense that Ginny understood what, overall, he was trying to explain. They were silent for a few minutes, until Draco let out a breath and looked straight into Ginny's eyes.
"You see, I think this clearing is important to Astoria and I, because this is where, for the first time, I questioned our relationship. I wondered if we wanted the same things, if we could be satisfied with the same things - if we would ever be content with each other. That doubt was an unpleasant, if not entirely new, feeling." He shrugged. "It took me a few weeks to understand that questioning did not mean the end of a relationship - that, in fact, once one gets past the questioning and understands this is the right choice, then the relationship is all the stronger for the fact. I don't think I ever loved her more than the day I realized that."
He sighed.
"But that was one year ago, and we've been fighting. She's jealous of the time I spend with anyone besides her, but when we are together all she wants to do is sleep or go shopping."
"I'm sure you don't mind the sleeping bit…" Ginny pointed out, putting an emphasis on the word "sleeping".
Draco smiled but did not comment. A delicate wind slithered through the sunflowers, making them oscillate rigidly.
"I keep looking for the friend who supported me when everyone turned away, for the young woman who helped me hold my head high and stare down those who called me Death Eater scum to my face or behind my back." His tone became increasingly vehement. "I look for her in this woman whose new favourite past-time is playing with the kitten I got her for Christmas and who won't grant me a smile unless she has a new bracelet on her vanity. I look for her in the home we've been sharing and in the dinners we attend, at the charity banquets and in all of Diagon Alley's most expensive stores, and I can't find her anymore!"
His fists were clenched into balls, his knuckles turning white from the pressure he exerted on his strong fingers. His words, sharp and cold like Canadian blizzards, held more distress than his face revealed, as though he had long ago severed himself from his emotions and had merely stated their content for Ginny's sake. She did not touch him.
"And I don't know if it's her, or if it's me, or if it's us together, but this is not what I wanted and I have no idea what to do about it."
She let him calm himself. She waited for his breathing to slow down, for him to look up from the sunflower at which he'd been glaring.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I did not mean to say all this."
She ignored him.
"Why did you come to me for an engagement ring?" Ginny asked in a low voice.
"I was hoping that the prospect of the engagement would make me see things clearly," he gritted out. "I thought that if I could no longer look back, what I saw ahead would only be brighter."
Ginny stood up and dusted her dress.
"You said yourself that overcoming doubt can make a relationship stronger. Only you can find out whether that will be the case for you and Miss. Greengrass."
With a swish of his wand, Draco expedited the cloth, basket, and everything else into their coach. He was surprised by how abruptly Ginny had put an end to the conversation, but felt so relieved to have these burning thoughts off his chest that he didn't think more of it until, when he helped her climb into the calèche, she tightened her hold on his hand and leaned close to his face. Her brown eyes burned with a harsh fire.
"Regardless of what you do, Mr. Malfoy, remember this: when all choice, all freedom is taken away from you, there is nothing bright in the path that faces you."
The intensity of her voice shocked both of them, and the proximity of their faces even more so. From where he stood, Draco could smell the sugary fragrance that emanated from her skin, and wanted nothing more than to bury his nose in the crook of her neck. For a second Ginny considered reaching out to touch the perfect angle of his cheekbone, that insolent slant that looked carved out of stone and led right to his thin lips. Her eyes drifted shut as he leaned forward, the same ripple of desire coursing through their veins.
Ginny drew back abruptly. In one, easy leap, she sat inside the carriage and waited, staring blankly at the scenery. She seemed so distant that Draco wondered if he had imagined the last few seconds. Only the pink tinge on her cheeks indicated that he had not, but he was certain that, if he were to use that as evidence, she would claim it that was a sunburn. He motioned for the carriage to start, and they headed back to the Manor in a silence that was not awkward, but not entirely unaffected either. Behind them, oblivious to what happened in their midst, the sunflowers continued to track the sun's progression with the regularity of a metronome.
***
Two weeks later, Ginny's owl delivered a medium sized package to Draco's office. He was grateful it reached him at work rather than at home, as Astoria had been increasingly moody and intolerant of his various solicitations. Some part of him felt guilty, as he knew, in some way or another, that he was responsible for the growing tensions in his household. He could not pinpoint it exactly, but it seemed as though Astoria was expecting something from him that he couldn't or wouldn't give her, and both her expectation and increasingly obvious disappointment were slowly driving him to the bring of madness.
Perhaps, he realized suddenly, the object of their unspoken litigation was the very box he held in his hands. She had been dating Draco for the previous four years, and most witches, by that point, laid claim to their right to a marriage proposal. Draco opened the box and pulled out a smaller, square jewel-box from the package. It was made of black velvet and sealed with a golden clasp, which he snapped open.
The engagement ring was snuggled between two folds of velvet, light playing gently on the gold. Minuscule rubies and diamonds flanked a pearl the size of a blueberry with swirls of red and white. They reminded Draco of droplets of blood, fallen on the snow of a fairytale whose princess would be Astoria. The ring was incredibly beautiful in a sweet and sad way, like one's goodbye to childhood, like one's departure from the family house into the wedded couple's new home, like the incertitude of days ahead.
Ginny Weasley had given Draco exactly what he had asked for, but he wondered if he had not asked for more than he could handle. The young Malfoy closed the jewel box and owled Astoria.
***
When Astoria showed up at the Galileo, Draco knew he had understood what she had been aching for, the very reason for her having pestered him through the past months. She was absolutely superb, joy and confidence radiating from her as she beamed at him. The grey dress she wore, a bit too fancy even for London's most renowned restaurant, left no doubt about her intentions; neither did the hint of the garters he could discern through the cloth of her garment. She seemed so radiant that Draco suspected she had caught a glimpse of the jewel-box in his personal belongings. He rose and helped her sit down after the exchange of a very tender kiss.
"How was work?" she asked pleasantly, unfolding her napkin.
"Busy, as usual," he replied. "The Germans simply won't have us on their territory; I don't know what got into Herr Hesse - I thought we had an agreement - but apparently our plans are falling through. It's rather unnerving."
Astoria squeezed his hand gently.
"I'm sure things will work out."
"Of course they will. They always do. I just wish I didn't have to rely on him so much - we're thinking of expanding to the US and until Germany is -"
"Should I take the crab cake or the foie gras?" Astoria interrupted him.
She had opened the menu and was staring intently at the food. Draco bit back a sigh, used as he was to her lack of interest for his affairs. He gazed fondly at the thick curtains of her eyelashes as they cast small shadows on her cheeks, obscuring the green ice of her gaze. She looked up and caught him staring. A dazzling smile stretched her lips.
"What are you thinking about?"
"You."
She smiled harder still, and a pang of nostalgia hit Draco. These were the smiles he no longer saw, the easy and spontaneous smiles that had helped him through years of searching and fighting to regain his honour, his possessions, and his name.
The waiter, armed with the typical obsequiousness, came to take their orders. He was shortly followed by the sommelier, an Asian witch whose name was becoming increasingly popular amongst wine connoisseurs. She recommended a 1990 Chateau Margaux and left them alone to admire the shifting skies above them. The Galileo prided itself on the intriguing layout of its premises; the main dining room was located at the center of a globe of rotating cosmos, which customers could admire from above since the floor was transparent. Glass passerelles granted access to the dining room, while the occasional comet shower cast bits of light to each table's candles.
The dishes were delivered by puffy little clouds, and the couple began eating. For the first time in a few days, Astoria opened up and volunteered information about her thoughts, her days, her life; Draco had been so occupied that his meagre attempts at catching up with her earlier that week had been met with resentment. Unfortunately, she had been spending time with her sister and Pansy Parkinson, so that Draco acquired a bit too much knowledge on Pansy's attempts to seduce Blaise Zabini. When their empty plates vanished, Astoria turned expectantly to Draco. A small smile graced her lips.
"Astoria, we need to talk about us."
She nodded mutely.
"I'm incredibly grateful for everything you've done for me, from the day you picked up whatever remained of me at the end of the war through today. Thank you for standing by me, as a friend and as a lover, because I really don't think I would be here today if it hadn't been for your support."
Astoria blushed but looked intently into his eyes.
"Now, I -"
Draco's voice faltered, and he reached deep into himself to garner strength. The happy innocence with which Astoria looked at him did not help his inner struggle; she did not notice how his fingers clutched the tablecloth, too enthralled to see her boyfriend's distress.
"Astoria, I'm sorry," was all he could muster.
He hated himself for the way her face fell. She did not understand what he meant, of course, but part of her knew already - it was that part that made Draco's mind well with sadness as he saw Astoria frown and her eyes narrow.
"What do you mean?"
Draco had rarely been at a loss for words, but the slight hitch in her voice, indicating the imminence of tears, temporarily erased all coherent thought from his mind.
"Draco." It was more than tears, though, that edge to her voice. "What are you trying to say?"
"Look," he began again in a feeble attempt to find the right words. "I know that we've been together long enough for you to expect a more lasting commitment." For a second she seemed like she was about to say something, but she stopped when he went on. "I know you want it. But the truth is, Astoria, much as I love you, I think I am not ready to propose to you."
Her nostrils flared and her eyes filled with tears. She jerked her head back slightly to prevent it, but a big, round tear slid down her cheek.
"You think?" Astoria whispered.
"I know," he confirmed what they both knew.
Draco watched sadly as Astoria fought to maintain her countenance, her hands wringing the napkin, her knuckles turning freakishly white. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, and when she opened them, a dark anger burned through her green irises. They sat there, staring at each other, for a few minutes, Draco utterly dejected by what he had done but surprised by her reaction, that she was mute and glaring like a Gorgon. At last, she stood up and looked down at him with blithering hatred.
"I want you out of my life."
Of course, Draco had expected something dramatic. He had braced himself for the tears and the screams, for the threats and the evocation of broken promises. He had been ready to buy her lots of jewellery and to wait a bit before she tolerated him in her bed again, until finally he could summon the will to propose. When she turned to leave and without an other word walked out of the restaurant, leaving him in front of the open dessert menu, he understood that she had the courage to do what he could not - put an end to their relationship. Only then did he fully grasp that he had profoundly hurt her. He buried his head in his hands and grappled with the guilt of feeling so intensely liberated.
The waiter chose that moment to tactfully remove the dessert menus he had discreetly placed there earlier.
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