sekkoon

CHAPTER 20

One Step Too Far

It took a while before Draco and Ginny could move in to their new home. The papers took longer than Bootle had expected to be finalised, and when it came to deciding upon furnishings it was nearly impossible for Draco and Ginny to agree. They had very different tastes in colour it seemed. However, the couple did finally settle into their new home; even if Ginny still could not admire the seats in the living room, and Draco could only look with resignation at the table and chairs his wife had chosen for their dining room.

Preferences of furniture aside, the couple were very happy together and more than content with their new situation. Breaking away from Malfoy manor had been the best thing for them, and for Ginny it was just what she had needed to comfortably settle into being married to Draco. There was no Narcissa to nag at her, no Alexia to tell tales and be spiteful, no Armande to make crude jokes—though Ginny did find herself missing the cheeky Malfoy, despite all that—and for the first time in a long time she could just relax and not worry about what others were thinking or expecting of her.

Her eyes shifted from her book to her husband’s reclining form on the seat opposite her own. He had already discarded the book he had been reading some time ago, and was now lying fully stretched out on the long couch; the afternoon sun creeping in through the large glass windows to give a gentle glow to his handsome features.

She could tell by his closed eyes and peaceful expression that he was either asleep or soon would be. No doubt he was tired from all the business meetings he had had to go to over the past few days. Bootle certainly had kept him busy.

Ginny smiled fondly to herself. He always looked so adorable when he slept. There was something so endearing about his softened, unguarded features. Perhaps it was simply because he never seemed to show such gentle tranquillity when he was awake. There was always something to disturb the peace—a lot of that her fault—but at least this moment was perfectly calm.

It surprised her somewhat. Very rarely did they share each other’s company in such a peaceful way. The silence should have been enough to put her on edge, but she wasn’t feeling discomforted by it at all. She felt oddly relaxed and could not pinpoint any awkwardness in the aura surrounding them. Everything was comfortable, as if this was the way things were just meant to be—the two of them spending time together, no matter how simple that time was.

A clock chimed on the mantelpiece. Ginny blinked, glancing at the old clock briefly, and was surprised to find that the time was considerably more advanced than she had thought.

“What time is it?” asked Draco groggily, sitting up from the seat to look at her through grey eyes heavy with sleep.

“Seven o’clock.”

Draco nodded and stood up from the chair, stretching slightly to ease his muscles. “I’ll go tell Tooky to get the dinner ready.”

Tooky was their new house elf. She was a rather quiet little elf, and had much better manners than Binky, who was a little too pushy and nosy for Ginny’s likings. It seemed that she had once worked at Hogwarts, and so tended to stick by the rule of staying out of sight unless called. This suited Draco and Ginny just fine.

Ginny smiled up at him. “There’s no need; I already did it. I was getting hungry,” she added for explanation.

“Oh.” He smothered a yawn and then sat back down on the seat. “What are we having?”

“Lasagne.”

“Good choice.”

Ginny beamed with simple pride. For some reason she felt insanely happy that he was pleased with her choice.

Draco leaned back against the seat and let out a deep breath. He really did look tired, if a little worn out. That Bootle had been working him far too hard with those silly business meetings. What they were about she had no idea. Actually, when she thought about it, she really did have no idea what it was Draco did. He looked after his father’s business—that she knew—but what was that business?

She guessed it didn’t really matter. It was probably something tedious anyway. All excessively rich people usually did something tedious for their job; like making quills or something.

Tooky then came in to announce that dinner was ready. Ginny placed her book down on the seat beside her, admitting that she didn’t think she could have waited any longer for dinner, she was so famished, and then walked with her husband to the dining hall. They situated themselves on either side of the table and commenced in enjoying a very hearty meal together.

“Daphne has invited me to a little gathering of hers tomorrow,” said Ginny, suddenly remembering her prospected engagement. “You don’t mind if I go, do you?”

Draco seemed surprised that he was even being asked for permission.

“I don’t mind, though I can’t see how you could want to go. If there was ever a more sillier female, it’s Daphne Greengrass. Five minutes in her company is enough to drive any person of sense insane.”

Ginny laughed, her ready sense of humour tickled by the truth of this. “Oh, I don’t deny she’s as stupid as they come, but there’s not an ounce of harm in her. Besides, she was the first of your friends to be nice to me—apart from Theodore, of course, but he’s not a female—and so I can only be grateful to her. You can’t know how uncomfortable it is to be an object of scorn in every female’s eyes.”

“Daphne is not my friend. She’s merely an acquaintance that is impossible to get rid of, and you don’t need her friendship to give you credit in other people’s eyes.”

“No, but I should like it all the same. I know she’s a fickle thing, but you’re a man, Draco, and you’ve lived in this society your whole life. You don’t understand my position. It’s very different for females, I can assure you. Men are always so much more accepting.”

Draco merely shrugged. “Do what you wish, it makes no difference to me. I’m merely surprised at your asking me at all. You don’t seem like the type to want permission to do anything.”

Ginny let out a gurgle of laughter at that. “I’m not, but I thought it would be polite to at least let you know what I was going to do in case you had already planned something for us.”

“How thoughtful of you,” remarked Draco with an amused smile, “But I haven’t planned anything.”

“Well I guess that settles that then. Pass me the salt, would you?”

Draco obliged, though teased her on her shocking table manners. Ginny merely gave him a saucy smile and said that she did not stand on ceremony with him.

“That’s the privilege of being my husband, you see,” she continued, her eyes twinkling; “you get to see all sides to my character, even my less than desirable table manners.”

“I suppose I should count myself fortunate.”

“You should. You could hardly want me to call you, My Lord, and treat you with cool civility like Titiana Maplewood treats her husband. He calls her an iceberg, which I cannot think to be a very nice thing to say about one’s wife, but you cannot deny that she’s shockingly reserved and is such a tiresomely moral creature. To think, she actually said to me that falling in love was something only vulgar people do!”

Draco smiled at her indignation. “I take it Mrs Maplewood’s sentiments do not agree with your tastes?”

“No indeed! To call love vulgar is the most blasphemous thing I have ever heard in my life. Love,” Ginny declared simply, “is what makes life worth living for.”

“I see I’ve married a romantic.”

Ginny blushed faintly and fiddled with the fork on her plate. “I daresay to you it sounds silly, but I—”

“Not at all.”

She glanced up at him in surprise, not having taken him as a man who cared much for romantic notions. “Oh?”

He took a sip of his drink, his expression pensive. “Purebloods of my station have never put much stock in love, but I’ve seen marriages founded on love and I’ve seen what happens when they aren’t. Though I may not go so far as to say that love is what makes life living for, I do agree that it is important to one’s happiness.”

“And yet you agreed to a loveless marriage?”

Draco gave her a swift, searching glance. “Yes,” he said finally, “I did.”

“Do you regret it?”

The question was a bold one, and it took a moment for Draco to reply. He steadily regarded her through his calm grey eyes, as if deciding whether she even deserved to be answered, and then said simply: “No, Ginevra, I do not regret it.”

Ginny’s brow puckered up into a frown. She wasn’t really sure what she had been expecting him to answer (having asked the question merely out of an insatiable curiosity) but his reply had left her feeling a trifle confused.

She should be satisfied that he did not regret marrying her, but then he had agreed that he had gone into this marriage knowing it to be a loveless one right after also confessing that he thought love imperative to a happy marriage. That only left her with more questions than answers, and she could only stare at her husband searchingly, wondering just how cryptic that remark had been.

As the only answer she could come up was so improbable that it had might as well have been a mere conjecture of fantasy, she decided not to refine too much upon his words—or at least tried not to—and decided to change the subject.

“Theodore is a good friend of yours, is he not?”

Draco nodded, unruffled by this abrupt change of conversation.

“Then you must know about his desire to marry Kitty?”

“He has said something along those lines to me, yes.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think,” responded her husband deliberately, “that it is none of our business.”

“But he’s your friend! Surely you must care about his well-being and happiness!”

Draco placed down his knife and fork and stared at her frankly. “I know what you’re going to say and the answer is no. I am not going to help you match-make them together.”

Ginny could not be satisfied with this, and in the all-important act of selecting one of the delectable treats laid aside for her by the thoughtful Tooky, proceeded to tell him as much. Draco was not moved; apparently he could be as obstinate as she was in cases like this.

“Well I think it is very disagreeable of you,” said his wife unreasonably (for it could not be said that she would ever understand why a gentleman would have no desire to help match-make his friend). “You must see how well they would suit. She has just the right amount of liveliness to lighten that serious disposition of his, and he has more than enough sense to calm her own silliness down. It’s a perfect match!”

“Except, of course, that your friend has no wish to marry him,” responded Draco with ruthless candidness. “I am not a woman, Ginevra; I am not going to get excited about helping my friend marry the girl of his desires when it appears that it will involve a lot of unnecessary exertion on my part. Theodore can love Katherine Cunningham all he likes, but whether she takes him or not is no concern of mine.”

His wife seemed much put out by this rational if not blunt reply, but she was not one to give up at the first obstacle in her path. She was determined to help her friends, and equally determined to have her husband help her do it.

“Well it will make it much easier for me if you did,” she continued obstinately, “for I have already decided that I will help them. I just need an excuse to throw them together more, and you must see, Draco, that I can hardly be inviting Theodore everywhere when it is just Kitty and I. That is where I need you. You can invite him to come with us—you know, like a double date sort of thing.”

Draco eyed her with a mixture of amusement and disdain. “You must have some very odd notions of me if you think I am going to invite Theodore on a double date, as you so eloquently put it. I will do no such thing.”

But three days later Draco was seen to be doing just that. How his wife had managed to bring him around her thumb was a matter entirely up for speculation. His cousin was inclined to believe that Draco had merely grown tired of his wife’s cajoling ways and had hoped to silence her on the matter by agreeing to her wishes. Others (namely his wife) believed he had merely suffered a change of heart and had seen the good sense in her scheme.

Whether Armande or Ginny was right, it was true that Draco had relented his decision to not help Kitty and Theodore, and had cordially invited his friend (who naturally accepted) to see a play being shown at the theatre that night; a venue chosen for its casualness, as well as its ability to leave two people alone without causing suspicion.

“For I do not mean to waste this opportunity,” said Ginny seriously, when discussing the project with her husband. “Sometimes you have to be ruthless to be kind, and I have no doubt that if we stay with them the whole time, not a single word will be exchanged between them.”

Draco could only laugh at this, but upon being asked what was so funny he merely shook his head, a small smile lingering on his lips.

The truth was, of course, that she had just reminded him forcibly of his own mother—who lived by the motto that ruthless kindness was the only way to ensure perfect results—and was much struck by the irony of it all. As if living with a woman like that for most of his life was not enough, he had to go and marry one.

His wife, upon learning that Theodore had accepted, duly rewarded her husband for his efforts by being in the sunniest of moods and promising never to bother him again with such matters. Draco was not foolish enough to believe her, having already gathered what his wife was like, and merely suggested she not make empty promises.

Ginny laughed at this, knowing it to be true, and then began to make plans on what they could do to allow their friends a chance to gain a deeper understanding with each other.

“For you must know,” said his wife frankly, as they were getting ready for the play later that night, “Kitty is terribly intimidated by him. We have to find a way to make her realise that he is not the terrifying ogre she thinks him. I’ve already laid some foundations, but perhaps you can help there?”

Her much amused husband then pointed out that Kitty was far more likely to be intimidated by himself than she was Theodore; being that he didn’t think he had spoken so much as a word to her in his life.

Ginny had to admit that he had a point there.

“Oh well,” she said brightly. “I daresay we’ll manage well enough. She has to get used to you anyway; she’s one of my best friends, and I will not have her being frightened of my husband.”

Draco then said that her friend sounded like just the sort of stupid female he couldn’t help but dislike. “I don’t know what Theodore sees in her,” he confessed with a sardonic curl of his lip. “She’s nothing but a pretty featherhead with too much sensibility and not enough sense. Scared of me indeed; and what can I do that should alarm her so much?”

Ginny’s lips twitched. “It’s not what you can do, it’s just you. You’re powerful in society, quite above her touch when one considers the matter, but I do believe she is more terrified of the piercing looks you give her than anything else. You have a very disconcerting way of staring at people, did you know that?”

Her husband then levelled that singularly disconcerting gaze upon her, a somewhat amused smile playing on his lips. “Do I now? It’s never seemed to bother you.”

“No,” agreed his wife, unruffled, “But then I’m made of much sterner stuff than my friend. I’m not scared of you, Draco, and I never have been.”

“Thank Merlin for that. I would not like you half as much if you were.”

“Yes you would,” responded his wife laughingly, “because I would not argue with you, or do things that you would not like for fear that you would give me one of your infamous Malfoy glares! I wonder you did not think to find yourself a submissive wife. It would suit your autocratic temper quite nicely.”

“Timid mice are not at all to my tastes. Just think how tedious it would be to never get that spice of opposition once in a while. You, I know, would not want your husband to always let you get your own way.”

“No,” agreed Ginny, much struck by this presentation. “I would think him horribly weak!”

“Just as I would find a submissive wife insipidly boring.” He thought about the matter a moment and added: “Not to mention beyond irritating.”

Ginny’s dimple suddenly peeped up, a saucy smile coming to her lips. “Well then, next time I find a reason to argue with you, you can remember that you wanted the spice of opposition and can take it in good part.”

“Ah, but aren’t you forgetting that you didn’t want a complaisant husband?” reminded Draco, returning her smile with a teasing one of his own. “It wouldn’t do for me to disappoint you, now would it?”

“You’re impossible,” his wife declared, though her eyes twinkled in amusement.

“And you are an incorrigible nuisance to my peace, but since I have already exerted myself on your behalf, there is nothing for it but to see this scheme of yours to the end. Which reminds me, what have you decided to do to ensure the success of tonight?”

“I won’t be entirely sure until we get there,” said Ginny with a small shrug, “but we must leave them alone at least for a little while. I’m sure we can contrive to come up with some excuse to leave the box.”

“Certainly,” he agreed, relaxing very much at his ease against the wall of their bedroom, “but do you honestly think that will do anything?”

She sighed. “If it doesn’t I shall have to contrive some other way to bring them together. Either way I am determined that Theodore will marry Kitty. The silly goose just needs to get it into her head that he’s perfect for her.”

“Silly goose is certainly an apt description, but I still don’t see why you care so much. You’d be much better applying your time to something else.”

“I care because Kitty and Theodore are both my friends and it pains me to see them so unhappy,” responded his wife simply. “As for applying my time to something else—no indeed; I haven’t had this much fun in years!”

Draco could only sigh in resignation. He doubted he would ever understand why females took so much delight in setting up other people’s romances. It seemed entirely unnecessary in his eyes. Even his own mother had that taint of the romantic busy body inside her, having taken it upon herself to choose him a wife—or rather hint rather unsubtly whom she would prefer him to choose.

Yes, but you can’t complain about that, now can you? His mind reminded him slyly.

He doubted he would ever have considered Ginny as anything more than a nuisance to his peace (not that she still wasn’t) before his mother had diverted his attention to the vivacious redhead.

It was his pride that had stopped him. He had been too proud, refusing to believe that there was a reason for why Ginny nagged at his brain so much, and consequently deluded himself into believing up all kinds of ridiculous explanations to make sense of his odd, if somewhat irrational, thoughts and feelings. Now, however, after so many months of being forced into her company, and so many weeks afterwards of being married to her, he realised that he cared about her far more than he could ever have expected or wished to.

She had somehow wormed herself into his previously untouched heart and had firmly established herself in its erratic beats and songs. When she smiled, his heart responded in kind; when she was in pain, his heart felt her pain too; and when she touched him, however innocently, that beating organ would rush with an unexplainable nervousness—not out of discomfort, but from a burst of excited anticipation.

He couldn’t understand it, didn’t even know if he wanted to understand it, but for all his confusion, frustration and hopelessness, he knew without a doubt that she was precious to him. He did not even want to begin to imagine what life would be like if he had not married her. The thought was literally frightening.

His grey eyes rested on his wife. She was leaning close to the mirror and expertly applying lipstick to her pretty lips, but upon noticing his contemplative gaze, her roguish dimple peeped out and her eyes, always expressive, began to dance.

“Yes? Would you like to wear some lipstick too?”

A wry smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I can only think of one way I will ever allow you to put even a smudge of lipstick on me, and since that is a highly improbable event, no, Ginevra, I do not want to wear your lipstick.”

Ginny chuckled slightly and stepped away from the mirror. “Improbable because you believe I will not do it?”

“I don’t believe, I know you would not do it.”

She moved closer to him with a mischievous smile playing on her lips and her eyes dancing more playfully than ever. Draco watched her progress a little warily, knowing from the warning signs that she was brewing mischief, though he did not move from his lazy position against the wall.

“Now that’s where you’re wrong,” refuted his wife, stopping directly before him. “You should know that I have an incurable dislike of people deciding how I am to behave; it makes me quite want to do the opposite. Besides,” she leaned forward on her tiptoes and met his eyes briefly, her mischievous smile becoming even more pronounced, “I wouldn’t miss the opportunity of seeing you wear lipstick for the world.”

And with that teasing rejoinder, she closed what little distance was left between them and pressed her lips firmly against his.

Draco had known what she was going to do from the moment she had leant up on her tiptoes, but that still did not take away the initial shock of feeling her soft lips, slightly silky from the lipstick, interlocked with his own. His heart, which had quickened only slightly when she had moved closer, now drummed loudly against his chest, and it took all of his self-control to remain perfectly still and not respond to the warm pressure of her silky lips as he had instinctively wanted to do.

Slowly Ginny pulled her lips away, her laughing eyes catching his for a moment as she lowered herself back to her normal height. “Ah, the picture was all that I thought it would be,” she observed mock-seriously, “Though I don’t think that particular shade suits your pallor.”

Her husband, not at all amused, merely wiped the smudges of lipstick from his mouth with a scowl. Not only did his pride feel severely wounded right now, but he also found himself in a very awkward position. Kisses, no matter how harmlessly they may have been bestowed, naturally had an undesirable impact over his emotions. Ginny was off-limits to him, and he was not impressed by her thoughtlessness in tempting him in such a way. He was just a man, after all, and was not made of stone.

“You’re a shameless flirt, you know that?” he muttered grumpily; pushing past her to escape the seductively close proximity they were positioned in.

“Why Draco, surely you aren’t accusing me of flirting with you?” asked Ginny in her most innocent voice.

“You know very well you are,” he snapped shortly, not in the mood for her games.

An infectious gurgle of laughter broke free from her lips. “Other men usually take it in good part, you know? They like it when a woman flirts with them.”

He stared at her hard. “Don’t you care that you’ve been flirting with me? You do remember who I am, right?”

“Yes, Draco, I do remember who you are,” responded Ginny with another laugh, “but what can I do? I don’t realise I’m doing it; it just sort of happens. I can assure you that I did not mean to flirt with you, and I will try not to do so again, but I just get so carried away…”

“Oh, and I suppose you’re also going to claim that you did not mean to kiss me but that it just happened,” retorted her husband sarcastically.

“Not at all. I did that quite intentionally.”

“What?”

“But, Draco!” cried his wife in mock-surprise, “You said yourself that there was only one way you would ever let me put lipstick on you. You must see that I had no other choice. How else was I going to achieve my great ambition?”

“I didn’t expect you’d actually do it,” he expostulated, quite put out.

“I know,” grinned his wife, completely unrepentant. “That was why I did it. The temptation to see you so stunned was just too much to resist.”

“You have no decency at all,” responded her husband severely.

“Now that is unjust. I have a lot of decency.” She began walking away, stopped, and then threw him another of her saucy smiles over her shoulder. “Just not when I’m around you.”

Once again finding himself completely at a loss for words, Draco could only glower at her retreating back; his mind pleasantly finding solace in calling her a lot of colourful names, including a brazen minx.

She was becoming a right handful, and not for the first time did he wonder why it was he was so attached to her. She really was a shocking flirt, though, when he considered the matter, he supposed it didn’t really matter if she was flirting with him. Now if it were other men she was flirting with, he would definitely have something to say about that…

“Are you coming to the theatre with me, or do you plan to stand there glaring at me like some angry waxwork?”

Draco blinked, mumbled something she might have taken as an apology, and followed her out of the house.

OOOO

The little quartet that gathered at the theatre that night could not have been said to be the most comfortable party to be a part of. Theodore, though madly in love with Kitty, was not the most expressive of fellows and could not find the words to put his love at ease; Kitty, though curious about the moody gentleman thanks to Ginny’s sly intervention at the ball, was still feeling very uncomfortable by his presence; and Draco, having tried to be polite to Kitty for his wife and friend’s sake, soon fell to the more tempting pastime of amusing himself at her expense.

Ginny found herself getting increasingly frustrated with all of them, but it was Draco who received the brunt of her ire; she taking the first opportunity once the curtain had lifted and distracted their companions’ attention to pinch his arm and whisper fiercely in his ear: “Stop being such a prat and leave Kitty alone!”

“But I’m not doing anything,” he whispered back, an annoying smirk flittering across his lips. “In fact I have been behaving with the utmost politeness towards her.”

“You’ve been mocking her this whole time, and you know it!”

“Yes, but does she?”

Ginny pursed her lips reprovingly. “That is my friend you’re talking about.”

“I know, and I find her charmingly stupid.”

Seeing that his wife was about to get very angry, he placed a calming hand on her shoulder and met her eyes steadily, if a little apologetically. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. I won’t tease her anymore, but you know it’s almost impossible not to. She’s quite ridiculous.”

“Kitty may not be an intellectual, but you will not find a nicer girl in this stupid place. Besides, even if she may not be able to recognise that you’re secretly laughing at her, Theodore has, and I can assure you that he is not happy with you.”

“That’s his problem for falling in love with a featherhead.”

“Draco!” growled Ginny warningly.

He smiled disarmingly and removed his hand from her shoulder. “Now, Ginny, you don’t want them to notice that we’re arguing, do you? I think even the featherhead might notice that.”

She glared at him, choked at the absurdly priggish expression on his face, and then fell into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. Draco smiled to himself, rather pleased that he had managed to get her back into a good humour and avoid anymore of her scolds, and thoughtfully patted her back to help her breathe better.

“Careful, Ginny; you’ll have all the old ladies glaring at you in a minute if you don’t quieten down.”

“It’s all your fault,” his wife choked out between gasps. “You looked so ridiculous!”

“Is everything alright?” asked Theodore, staring at the two in surprise. The play was not exactly the most humorous of tales, which naturally made Ginny’s giggling quite out of place.

Draco nodded. “We’re fine, or at least Ginny will be once she stops laughing.”

“What was so funny?” asked Kitty curiously.

Ginny and Draco exchanged amused glances, smiled, and then turned back to their two companions.

“It was nothing, really,” said Ginny carelessly. “You wouldn’t get it if we told you. It was one of those ‘you have to be there to find it funny’ things.”

“Oh, okay.”

The four fell silent once more and continued to watch the play, though truth be told Ginny found it rather tedious. The acting was quite terrible, and the spells they used for special effects were so shoddily done that it quite spoiled her enjoyment. She was glad when the first interval came.

Ginny glanced towards Theodore and Kitty—who had been ruthlessly seated cosily next to each other by her own machinations—and felt that nagging frustration creep through her. They had barely spoken to each other the whole time, and though it was not really expected that people should talk to each other during plays, she had hoped they would at least try to converse more with each other during the interval.

This was expecting too much of them it seemed. Theodore was of a naturally taciturn disposition, and though he did make some comments to Kitty, it was clear that she was still feeling too uncomfortable to do much more than mumble monosyllabic answers.

It was enough to put Ginny out of all patience with the both of them; for such a spirited woman could hardly be expected to understand why some people found it difficult to converse with others in such situations. She and Draco, after all, had usually resorted to heated arguments when all else failed.

Determined more than ever to find a way to leave the two alone in the box and force them to talk to each other, Ginny suddenly claimed that she was feeling faint and instantly desired her husband to take her out to get some fresh air. Kitty and Theodore both expressed their concern for her health, asking whether it would be better if she went home, as they could easily come see another play when she was not feeling so ill.

“No, no, I assure you that’s quite unnecessary,” said Ginny resolutely. “It’s just the heat, but I’ll be better once I have some fresh air.”

“Are you sure?” Theodore asked in his serious voice.

Ginny nodded. “Quite sure. I’m just not used to these stuffy rooms.” She cast her eyes to her husband and gave him a speaking glance. “Draco, will you accompany me?”

Draco stood up obediently from his chair and placed what appeared to be a supporting arm around his wife’s waist. “Of course.” He turned his gaze back to the other occupants of their box and gave them a small smile. “I’m sure it is just the heat, but if it is something more serious I shall of course take her home. Please do not allow our absence to spoil your enjoyment of the play. I’m sure Ginny would not wish that.”

Ginny immediately put in her agreement to this, hoping that they would not worry their heads over a troublesome creature like herself, and then allowed Draco to guide her out of the box.

“Well,” said Draco, prudently withdrawing his hand from her waist once they were safe from prying eyes, “You got your wish; they are now alone in the box, though what you can imagine that will do is beyond me.”

“Possibly nothing,” shrugged his wife, “but then it is also possible that they will try to talk to each other out of mere obligation. It is an interval, after all; they can’t just sit there in silence.”

“They might,” intoned her husband pessimistically.

Ginny peeped through the curtain to see what was happening back in the box. She was disappointed to see that both Theodore and Kitty were staring in opposite directions, clearly at a loss on what to say to each other.

“What are they doing?” Draco asked, coming to stand behind her so that he too could peer through the curtain.

Her heart gave a funny flutter in her chest at his sudden proximity but she firmly ignored the feeling. She had kissed him full on the mouth earlier; why should his proximity bother her now?

That was the way it always was though. If she initiated the act she usually felt nothing at all, but when he did something her volatile heart would start racing in that peculiar way she was beginning to feel so often when around him.

Turning her face slightly to look up at him, she merely sighed. “Nothing; they’re just sitting there.”

“Figures. Theo always was terrible with women.”

“And I suppose you’re just spectacular with them?”

“Not really,” he replied quite truthfully, “But then I’m not as bad as him. He really doesn’t have a clue at all.”

She smiled slightly and peered back through the curtain. “I think you’re right. He doesn’t seem to be doing too well right now that’s for sure.”

“Why? What’s he doing?”

“Still nothing. He’s staring at his hands, and she’s gazing blankly at the stage.”

“I don’t understand how you think this constitutes a perfect match. They clearly have nothing in common.”

“It’s true they don’t have much in common but they have enough to be happy with each other. It’s all a matter of finding the right balance. Once she gets over this absurd timidity you’ll see what I mean.”

“If she gets over it, that is,” piped in Draco with another of his gloomy statements.

Ginny rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her two friends. Draco, feeling rather curious himself, leaned over his wife’s shoulder and watched the spectacle unfolding from behind the curtain.

OOO

Kitty shifted uncomfortably and gave a sidelong glance at her companion. She wished Ginny and Draco would hurry up and come back. This was just too awkward. How could she possibly be expected to make small talk with a man that she knew wanted to marry her? It was bad enough having her parents declare that she was going to marry Theodore Nott when she had barely spoken above a dozen words with him, and then suffering the torture of being pushed into his company as often as her meddling parents could manage; let alone now having to face the double torture of being inflicted with his presence once again thanks to her friend being friends with him.

“Oh, I have no luck at all,” groaned Kitty to herself.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing,” replied Kitty hastily, her already rosy cheeks growing all the more rosier. She really had to watch this talking to herself habit. It was beginning to get quite embarrassing.

Theodore looked at her a little doubtfully and then relaxed back in his chair, all ready to once again fall into his silent stupor. Kitty began to feel increasingly annoyed.

If he loved her, as Ginny claimed he did, then why on earth didn’t he bother to try and talk to her more? Did he really expect her to like a silent statue that never showed the slightest trace of interest in her?

All she knew was that he wanted to marry her—without even asking her feelings on the matter, she might add—but not once had he ever hinted to her that he had any more love for her than he did for that garish pot plant resting beside her chair.

Her frustration deepened. Who did he think he was expecting her to marry him? He had nothing to recommend himself to her attention. He was not handsome, though she supposed there was something pleasant about his face; he did not flirt, laugh or joke with her like her other suitors did; he was far too serious for his own good; barely spoke above a word to anybody—in fact, he was so unlike every man she had shown interest in that it was a small wonder she had been so surprised and bothered to discover that he had hinted to her parents that he was contemplating marriage with her.

And yet she couldn’t deny that she was curious. Ever since the ball she had found herself thinking about the brooding gentleman far more than was seemly. It was like a new kind of torture, only this time self-inflicted. His face would flash before her eyes quite independently, and then she would wonder if it were really true what Ginny had said about him being in love with her, and a new wave of confusing emotions would envelop her.

The very fact that he was different to all those men made him stand out in her mind. He was something mysterious, something intriguing, but at the same time she knew he was also about as animated as her grandmother’s stuffed owl—creepy thing that it was.

That was where her frustration lay. She was a naturally lively person, and even though she was intrigued by the fact that he may love her, he was still just as silent, boring and serious as he always was. She just couldn’t love someone like that.

“Are you enjoying the play?” she asked finally, unable to handle the awkwardness any longer. Anything had to be better than this suffocating silence, though talking to him was not exactly thrilling either.

His hazel eyes darted up to hers, a somewhat surprised expression on his face. Apparently he had not expected to be spoken to.

“I guess it is okay,” he said carefully, almost cautiously.

“I think it’s quite boring myself,” confessed Kitty with incurable honesty. “I keep getting confused on who all the people are, and the storyline is so ridiculously complicated that there seems to be no storyline at all!”

Theodore chuckled slightly, a surprise in itself, and smiled in sympathy with her frustration. “I know what you mean. It is a little ridiculous.”

Kitty just stared at him through wide eyes. He had actually laughed, smiled, and spoken more than three words to her all in one go. It was a miracle!

“I don’t know why Draco chose it,” Theodore continued, a frown creeping onto his face.

“Oh, he didn’t choose it. Ginny did, but I daresay she didn’t know what the play was about.”

“Probably not,” agreed Theodore. “She’s not really the type to read into things,” (“How rude!” exclaimed Ginny with an indignant huff.) “But, then again, it is hard to tell how good something is just from the synopsis.”

Kitty shrugged, not really having considered the matter before, and promptly changed the subject. If he was willing to talk, she was not going to waste it on boring plays that didn’t interest her in the slightest.

It took a while for them to both find a topic that interested them, and, oddly enough, that topic came in the form of books. Kitty, though not a great reader of intellectual work, was an avid reader of romance novels and admitted rather shyly that she wanted to write her own collection of romantic novels one day. Theodore, much to Kitty’s astonishment, confessed that he was also hoping to write a book, and had already started working on it; though he thought it was in need of a good polishing before he would be comfortable enough to let anyone read what he had written.

Nothing could have guaranteed Kitty’s attention more then this simple confession. Gone was her boredom, frustration, awkwardness and worries about a potential arranged marriage between them; she was intrigued and wanted to know everything about this book he was writing. Theodore, only too grateful to have the object of his heart’s desire showing so much animated interest towards him, was more than happy to oblige.

By the time Ginny judged it right to re-enter the box, the two were well on their way to reaching an easy understanding with each other. Though they may not be confessing their undying love to each other anytime soon, Ginny knew it would only be a matter of time before Kitty realised her feelings for Theodore.

That her friend already had feelings for the quiet gentleman, Ginny was quite certain; it was just a matter of Kitty realising how deep those feelings actually went. Only time could do that, but Ginny was pleased to note that her husband’s and her own labours had not been wasted.

Tonight had truly been a success.

OOO

Ginny and Draco returned to their home later that night in high spirits. The play itself had been a dull affair, but they had gleaned much entertainment from watching their friends stumble their way into a close friendship. It was amazing really how quickly the two had hit it off once they both had gotten over their natural awkwardness.

“I’m just going to get changed,” said Ginny, moving towards her personal dressing room that was attached to their bedroom.

Draco nodded absently and continued with whatever it was he was doing by his dressing table. She noticed with a scowl that it was more paper work from Bootle.

“Not more business?” she moaned, quite sick of it all.

“Just be thankful it falls on my shoulders and not yours,” responded her husband frankly. “And yes, it is more paperwork. I forgot all about it… I suppose I’ll have to get it done before tomorrow.”

She sighed heavily at that, more for her husband’s sake than for her own. It looked like it was going to be another late night, and Merlin knew he was not getting enough sleep as it was lately. She had a right mind to go and talk to Bootle and tell him to stop overloading her husband with boring work.

Knowing there was nothing she could do about that right now, Ginny entered her dressing room and began taking out all the pins in her hair that were finally beginning to give her a headache. She then threw open the cupboards and started rifling through her nightwear.

For reasons quite unknown to herself, Ginny automatically moved towards the more risqué items in her closet. This was a first in itself, for these particular articles of clothing had been chosen by ‘well-meaning’ friends to help speed things along in the baby department, though Ginny had never dared wear any of them before. They were not exactly revealing, but they were certainly more alluring to the eye than the tent nightdresses she had been favouring over the past few weeks.

Her eyes alighted on a silken nightdress of emerald green. This one would do.

Pulling it off the rack, she quickly got undressed and then changed into the silky nightdress. It barely came halfway down her thigh, and fell in a rather low scoop at her breasts. Two thin straps held the nightdress together, criss-crossing loosely at the back, but despite all of this, Ginny found it very comfortable to wear.

She walked back into the main bedroom, humming a soft tune, and made her way towards the bed. Draco was already in his usual choice of pyjamas (loose pants) and was seated in the bed, rummaging through the dreaded papers. He glanced up at her briefly, not really paying much attention to her, and then quickly flicked his gaze back to his wife in stunned disbelief.

For a moment he just stared at her, not really sure if he could believe his eyes or not. Surely that goddess in green was not his wife? But then there was that familiar red hair, and unmistakably those were the freckles he had come to love. He had just never seen her look so—so sexy?

She smiled innocently down at him and tucked a strand of her red hair behind her ear. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“No,” said Draco a little distantly. “No, there’s nothing on your face…”

But her body…

He swallowed uncomfortably and abruptly transferred his eyes back to his papers. They were much more safe, though much less alluring.

Somehow he just knew that his wife was going to be the death of him. There was only so much a man could take, after all, and she was already pushing his limits. Didn’t she have any idea how undeniably enticing she looked right now? He almost wished she would go back to the tent dresses.

Quite heedless to this hormonal struggle, Ginny clambered onto the bed and slid under the covers. She attempted to go to sleep, but as the sound of rustling paper and Draco muttering to himself made this quite impossible, she ended up giving up on sleeping and instead contented herself by watching her husband work.

He looked very handsome right now, more so than he usually did; with the soft flames gently lighting his pale skin, and his grey eyes standing out more clearly than ever. His hair looked perfect as always, falling in soft strands around his intensely grey eyes, and she found herself quite fascinated by the way his strong mouth curved down into a slight frown as he pondered over a particularly gruelling paper.

Without even realising what she was doing, she was reaching up her hand and pushing the soft strands of his hair away from his eyes; allowing her fingers to gently trail along his forehead and down his cheek in a soft caress. Draco stared at her in some surprise, if a little warily. She had never touched him like this before.

Their eyes met, the silent seconds drawing them in even closer, and because it seemed like the most natural thing to do, Ginny slowly leaned forward and for the second time that day pressed her lips against his.

At first Draco sat perfectly immobile, too stunned to do much more, but then his hand slowly found its way up to her cheek, tilting her face up more towards his, and he was returning the urgent pressure of her lips with a sudden fervour. Ginny seemed to let out a long, contented sigh, even though she made no sound at all, and placed her hand around his neck to pull him closer; dreamily losing herself in his kiss.

This was all the encouragement Draco needed.

Letting his hand trail caressingly up her bare thigh—eliciting a small gasp of surprised pleasure from his wife—Draco deepened the kiss to breathtaking heights; shifting slightly so that he was leaning directly over her. A dizzying rush of emotions passed between them on the electric current of their passion; surging through their interlocked lips and tingling through their bodies in a rush of exhilaration and newly discovered pleasure.

Hearts raced, blood pounded, hands wandered, and it almost seemed as if nothing could stop the tide of unrestrained passion that had been awakened, when a thought suddenly intruded in on Draco’s pleasure and remained annoyingly obstinate in its warning.

Repressing an exasperated sigh, Draco very reluctantly pulled himself away from her and tried hard to ignore the different voices in his mind now arguing with him for his decision. His body was the most vocal of all and did not try to be subtle in its disappointment.

Ginny, looking very breathless and with her cheeks becomingly flushed, made a small noise of protest at his pulling away and raised confused and slightly frustrated eyes to his. “What’s wrong?” she demanded impatiently, clearly agreeing with Draco’s body that his behaviour was not at all to her likings.

Draco would have been amused—the irony in itself was highly entertaining—were it not for the fact that he now found himself in a very uncomfortable situation.

“We can’t do this,” he said firmly, while inwardly cursing his own conscience for making him do this.

“Of course we can,” said his wife recklessly, and leaned up again to steal a kiss.

Draco firmly gripped her shoulders and held her back. “I’m serious, Ginny! Just think about what you’re doing for a moment. You’re going to really regret this tomorrow, you know you will, and I don’t want that on my conscience. You were just lost in the moment but once you get over that I can assure you that you will be glad I stopped us before things got too out of hand.”

“Maybe I want things to get out of hand! Maybe I don’t care anymore!”

“You say that now but you don’t really mean it.”

“I do mean it!” She pressed herself closer to him; heedless to the strong hold he had on her shoulders. “I’m ready now.”

“I’m not going to have sex with you, Ginevra” Draco said firmly, but not at all unkindly.

Ginny’s face burned with mortification. He had rejected her. After all of that he had simply rejected her.

She turned her face away in painful embarrassment, her lips quivering slightly with the overwhelmingly crushing feeling of shame she now felt. This was not how she had expected things to turn out at all, and all she could think of was that she must have done something wrong. Maybe she just wasn’t good enough for him?

“Am I not attractive enough for you?” she demanded in a small voice, pathetically wavering with suppressed tears.

“It’s not like that at all!” exclaimed Draco, quite horrified that she was taking it this way. It was anything but because she was not attractive enough for him. She was so damn beautiful and tempting in his eyes that even now he felt like throwing his scruples to the wind, rolling on top of her, and finishing what he had started.

“T-then w-what?” stammered Ginny, becoming increasingly more emotional by the second.

“I just don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and feel like you’ve made a big mistake,” he admitted, releasing the hold he had on her shoulders. “You say you’re ready, but you don’t even know what you’re saying right now. You were just lost in the moment—we both were—and I don’t want us to ruin everything just because we couldn’t control our hormones for one night.”

She sniffed a little pathetically, still with her face averted. Her embarrassment was beginning to overwhelm her desire, and that was bringing a very sobering and unwelcome effect on her thoughts.

Draco sighed in some frustration—he was never one to deal well with emotional woman—and ran a restless hand through his hair. “Look, Ginny, you must know I’m not trying to hurt you. Believe me when I say that if I wasn’t so worried that you would kick up a fuss tomorrow I would not hesitate to give you what you want right now, but I just—”

“I know,” she cut in softly. “You don’t need to say anything more.”

He broke off abruptly and stared at her searchingly for a moment. She didn’t sound very happy; she didn’t look it either, but before he could ask her if she was all right, Ginny suddenly stood up from the bed and impatiently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“I think I’ll sleep somewhere else tonight,” she said in an attempt at nonchalance, but only ended up looking more pathetic than ever. She gave him a rather tremulous smile, and not even waiting for him to reply, quickly left the room.

Draco let out a deep breath once the door had shut behind her, closing his eyes in a wince at his own stupidity, and banged his head back against the wall. That had gone very badly, and even more troubling was the question of what was going to happen now.

Kissing, touching, and anything else of a more intimate nature had been absolutely forbidden between them, both through spoken and unspoken agreements. Those agreements had just been breached in every possible way, except one, and even though Ginny had been the instigator of the kiss, he was the one who had taken things to much less innocent paths.

Neither was blameless here, but both would have to suffer the consequences of this night. The only question was: what would those consequences be?

CHAPTER 21

Tangled

“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!”

Ginny burst through the door to the guest room and collapsed against the perfectly made bed in an uncontrollable flood of tears. She gripped the pillow tight, fighting against the suffocating strain in her throat, and tried hard to smother the heart-wrenching sobs threatening to break free from her mouth.

What a fool she had been. What a complete and utter fool.

“I was practically begging him to have sex with me,” Ginny whispered to herself in pained embarrassment; ashamed at how desperate she had made herself to appear.

Never did she think she could want a man so much as she had in that moment. It had all been so strange and wonderful, so divinely intoxicating. She’d never felt such deep passion for anyone in her life, and even now her body seemed to tingle with the heady pleasure his caressing hands had inspired inside her.

A rosy blush stole to her cheeks at the thought. There had well and truly been nothing innocent about the way he had touched her. For a man who was supposedly so modest and chaste, he had certainly not held back from having his full of her. Of course she had not minded at the time, but that was before she had known he was going to abruptly stop and leave her in this horribly frustrating state of desperate longing and sexual need.

She understood why he had done it, of course, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. He had rejected her when she had practically been offering herself to him on bended knee—as embarrassing and shameful as that was to admit. It was rather hard to appreciate the reasons behind the rejection when he had made her feel so utterly ridiculous.

Still, Ginny was not an unreasonable girl. She knew very well that he had been right in saying that she had been completely and utterly lost in the moment. He had also been right in assuming that she had not really known what she was saying when he had pulled away from her—she having been too distressed in having her desires thwarted to really consider what words were coming out of her mouth. However, he had been unforgivably wrong in thinking that she had wanted him only out of lust, and it was frankly insulting that he should assume so.

Just what kind of woman did he think she was? Perhaps he had given in to his hormones, but she certainly had not. At least, she didn’t think she had.

Yes, she knew she was attracted to him, and it was also true that there had been moments when she had felt a powerful and very physical pull towards him, but the thought that she had acted tonight only out of something so base as lust just didn’t sit right with her.

There had to be more to it than that. She just couldn’t believe that she would throw in the towel so easily after so many weeks of keeping her distance simply because her hormones had gotten the better of her; though there was no denying that her physical desires had certainly played an important part in all of this.

In any case, whether she had acted out of uncontrollable lust or from something substantially deeper, it was true that she now found herself in a very uncomfortable position.

Tomorrow, whether she liked it or not, she would have to face him again. He was her husband and he would always be there. Even if the subject never came up again, she would always be aware that for one night they had crossed into those dangerous waters of passion and pleasure that they had agreed never to enter into—not out of duty to his parents, like she thought eventually would be the case, but because they had both undeniably wanted it.

It was a foolish, foolish mistake, and perhaps he had been right to stop them when he had, but she couldn’t help but wish that he hadn’t. For one thing she would not be feeling so stupid and ashamed right now. However, even worse was the fact that she now found herself feeling so curious about what it would be like to take that final plunge into the forbidden, and having such positively sinful thoughts about the man she called husband, that it was enough to drive any normally virtuous woman insane.

She just didn’t know how she would ever be able to face him again. How could she when she could recall very vividly what they had done together? Suffering the embarrassment of being rejected was bad enough, but she knew she would get over that eventually; this, however, was impossible to forget.

Undoubtedly she regretted it—it was only natural that she should after being so painfully rejected—but that regret still didn’t stop her from wishing that he had not pulled away when he had. She figured that if she was going to regret something anyway from this night it had might as well have been the whole works rather than this tantalising taster that taunted her with how close she had been. It was hard to forget how good it had all felt, and equally hard not to secretly want more.

Ginny let out a frustrated groan. Why did everything have to get so complicated? How could a simple kiss change so much? That one action, that one seemingly innocent and harmless action, had truly changed everything. There was no way she could ever look at Draco in the same way again. He could never be just her friend and husband; he would now always be irreversibly transformed in her eyes as something infinitely more tempting and desirable.

If only there was someone she could turn to for advice on what to do.

She had admitted no one into her confidence about the truth of her marriage, but now she felt the need of a friend’s advice all too well. She just didn’t know anyone, or at least no one whom she could trust. They all believed her to be happily married to Draco, and for good reason too, but she needed another person’s perspective right now. She just didn’t know whose.

There was Kitty, of course, but as much as Ginny liked Kitty, she just didn’t know if she could share this with her friend. Kitty had lived in Pureblood society her whole life—there were certain things that she just would not understand—and nor did Ginny feel comfortable at the thought of going to a girl whom her husband’s best friend was hoping to marry. It was all just a little awkward.

No, what Ginny needed was someone who she could trust, someone who would understand. She needed—

“Hermione!” Ginny called out, bursting through the fireplace some seconds later, after speedily travelling by floo to her friend’s flat. “Hermione, I need your help!”

Two people who had been locked in a most passionate embrace abruptly broke apart and glanced towards Ginny with identical alarmed and very embarrassed expressions on their faces. The female, a young woman with bushy brown hair, a pair of intelligent brown eyes, and a somewhat stern mouth, blushed terribly upon finding herself caught out, and quickly stepped away from her lover—an equally young man who Ginny likewise had no trouble in recognising from his familiar messy black hair, emerald green eyes, and iconic lightening bolt scar.

“Uh…should I come back later?” asked Ginny, feeling just a little awkward. She had not expected to be greeted by her two friends kissing fervently upon arrival. It was all very uncomfortable.

“N-no, it’s fine,” said Harry, recovering from his initial shock. “I was just leaving anyway.”

“Oh.”

He leaned down and whispered something in Hermione’s ear, nodded in a friendly way to Ginny, and then took his leave much in the manner of one fleeing with his tail between his legs. It was clear that he had no wish to be bombarded with searching questions on why he had been kissing his best friend of nearly ten years.

Ginny raised a quizzical eyebrow at her friend. “And how long has that been going on, hmm?”

Hermione had the grace to blush. “Not long now, but enough of that. You didn’t come here to discuss my relationship with Harry. What’s happened? You look like you’ve been crying.”

“I have,” sighed Ginny, remembering the unhappy reason why she had been forced to intrude so rudely upon her friend’s hospitality. She went to sit down on the bed and then paused, giving a quick glance at her host. “You and Harry haven’t been, you know…”

“What? Oh no,” Hermione hastily denied, a fierce blush warming her cheeks. “We haven’t—I mean it’s only been a few days now, and I—”

“Spare me the details. I’ll trust your word for it,” said Ginny with a laugh, and took a seat on the bed, now assured that it was perfectly safe.

Hermione sat down next to her, hands neatly folded on her lap, and stared at Ginny with all her usual business-like abruptness. “So what did happen? I can tell by your apparel that it must have been something to do with that good-for-nothing husband of yours.”

Ginny glanced down at herself and realised she was still wearing the skimpy nightdress. She almost felt like laughing, but instead an odd sort of hiccup escaped her throat and a few tears burned at her eyes.

“I—I kissed him, Hermione.”

“Well that’s nothing to cry about. He is your husband; I suppose it’s only natural you should kiss him.”

“No it’s not,” said Ginny seriously. “Our marriage is not exactly what people have been led to believe.”

“What do you mean?”

Ginny took a deep breath. “Well, you see, it all started when Draco was asked by his parents to find a wife…”

For almost half an hour Ginny unburdened her soul; explaining how and why she and Draco had come to be married; how they had battled it out day after day until they had finally come to a truce; how things between them had slowly progressed to the point where she had begun to see him as one of her closest friends; and then finally she confessed what had happened that very night.

“So now you see the predicament I’m in,” sighed Ginny, once she had finished her long and somewhat involved recital.

“Well I can understand how this would make things very awkward for the both of you,” mused Hermione in a thoughtful voice, “but don’t you think that you should be happy he did stop? If it’s true what you say then you should be thankful that he still respects your wish to not be intimate with him until you’re ready, and I must admit,” she added in some reluctance, “I never thought he would be so thoughtful.”

“He’s always thoughtful!” retorted Ginny defensively. “I know he’s not like those other men who like to flaunt their niceness in front of everyone, but even if Draco is not necessarily the most nicest guy in the world, at least I know he’s always genuine! He may bumble through his words when trying to comfort me, and he may not have a clue when it comes to giving people hugs, but he’s cared for me in his own way, and I could not have asked for anything more than that!”

Hermione closed her mouth—having been quite stunned by this angry, impassioned defence of a man she had long considered a heartless brat—and leaned forward to peer into Ginny’s face searchingly. “You aren’t in love with him, are you?”

Ginny was all ready to disclaim such an absurd suggestion, when she suddenly paused and thought about the grey-eyed man that was her husband. “I—I think I am,” she confessed in considerable confusion.

As this pronouncement was just as astonishing to the speaker as it was to the listener, both girls were silent for a moment as they tried to digest just what this meant.

For Ginny it was all rather overwhelming, and yet she knew that she had been telling the truth. Somewhere, somehow, she had fallen in love with the one man she had never dreamed she would, and it had taken someone actually asking her that forbidden question for her to realise that she had. The words had just instinctively slipped out of her mouth.

“Are you sure?” Hermione couldn’t help but ask, once she had regained use of her tongue again; her dismayed expression leaving no doubt that she was hoping her friend might be lying.

Ginny was not offended by this open disbelief. If anything she was amused, knowing that her own reaction would have been much the same had she not been so certain she was right.

Draco Malfoy was not the kind of man one fell in love with. He was rude, cynical, useless with women, and far too arrogant for his own good. There was nothing sweet about him, and even his icy good looks were more in par with the handsome villain than the noble, romantic hero. He would never be that fairytale prince she had so often dreamed about—and whom Julian encapsulated so perfectly—and yet for all his faults and failings she knew that this was love. This was real, irrevocable love.

“I know it sounds crazy,” Ginny exclaimed with a rueful smile; “I would have thought it ridiculous myself before tonight, but I really do think that I’m in love with him. I know he’s not perfect and I know he never will be, but I’ve realised now that I don’t need and never wanted perfection. I just want him; all of him—even the annoying habits that make me want to box his ears.”

Hermione’s eyes goggled in open astonishment.

“Honestly, Hermione,” continued Ginny with a laugh, unable to stop the fond smile that spread across her lips, “If you could know how much I have wanted to hit him over these past few months! He can be so arrogant, so unfeeling, and it just about drives me insane! But then I remember those moments where he was kind to me (even when most of the time I gave him no reason to); I remember the awkward words of comfort he gave me when I was upset; I remember all the times he protected me and stood up for me against his friends and family—I remember everything, and then my anger fades away and I realise just how lucky I am to have a husband like him.”

She turned her gaze back on her speechless companion and met her friend’s dark brown eyes frankly with her own. “So yes, Hermione, I’m sure that I do love him, because even though I know he may not be everything I could have ever dreamed of, like all those silly romance novels always say your true love should be, I do know that he is enough for me. I know I can trust him, and I know that I love him, and in the end that is all that matters.”

“When did this happen?” asked Hermione rather faintly, looking just a little overwhelmed by Ginny’s very honest confession.

“I don’t know really,” admitted Ginny quite truthfully. “It’s all been coming on so gradually that I don’t think there ever was a time when I suddenly loved him. It was only when you asked me that I actually realised for myself how I truly felt about him, but it’s possible I’ve been in love with him long before then. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out that I have. I’ve been so blind; so wrong about so many things. I suppose I almost deserve to have him see me only as a friend after all the stupid things I have said and done.”

“You don’t think he loves you?”

Ginny shrugged sadly. “I don’t know. I want to believe that he does, but he’s never really given me any hints that he might. He’s quite reserved, not to mention terrible at expressing his feelings, but I do know at least that he cares about me. He wouldn’t have stopped us tonight if he didn’t, let alone have done half the things he has done for me over these past few months.”

Hermione frowned thoughtfully to herself. “This is more complicated than I thought.”

“Tell me about it!” said Ginny feelingly.

“I don’t think that you should be beating yourself up over tonight, though.”

“It’s a bit hard not to. I feel like a complete idiot.”

“Naturally,” replied the Job’s comforter, “he did reject you, but perhaps this wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.”

“How so?”

Hermione stood up from the bed and started pacing up and down, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Just how eager was he to respond when you started kissing him?”

Ginny blushed faintly. “Um, well he didn’t exactly kiss me straight away…”

“Then that means he must have felt some hesitation right from the start.”

“What difference does it make?” grumbled Ginny, half suppressing a sigh. “He rejected me in the end anyway.”

Hermione laughed at that. “Silly goose, it makes all the difference in the world. If he was hesitating right from the beginning it means that he was fully aware of what he was doing when he finally did kiss you.”

“I don’t see how that makes my being rejected any better,” muttered Ginny grumpily. “If anything that makes it worse.”

“Don’t you see?” exclaimed Hermione in some impatience. “It means that he wanted to be with you! He wanted you.”

“I still don’t—”

“Merlin, Ginny, you’re married to Malfoy and know him much better than I do but you can’t figure this one out?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Malfoy is not the kind of man to lose control of his emotions. Sure the rein he has over his temper isn’t the greatest, but I think I am right in saying that when it comes to things like this he can show the emotion of a robot if he really wanted to.”

“What’s a robot?” asked Ginny, momentarily diverted.

“Never mind,” said Hermione hastily. “I forgot I was talking to a Pureblood witch for a minute. In any case, the point is that he wanted to kiss you back, and I don’t think it was just because he’s a guy and it’s only natural that he should find it hard to resist a pretty woman who’s all too willing to be with him. You can’t tell me that he’s never had a beautiful woman throw herself at him before.”

Ginny knew this to be true. Alexia—who was perhaps the most beautiful woman she had ever set eyes on—had been one of those women. That Alexia had not succeeded in seducing her cousin spoke volumes for Draco’s self-control.

“Fine, I see your point,” she conceded, “but why did he reject me then?”

“Now that I don’t know,” admitted Hermione regretfully. “He obviously wanted you, so it seems that something must have stopped him from going through with it. From what you’ve said it sounds like he might have been feeling guilty at the thought of taking advantage of you when you were, to him at least, so lost in the moment. Then again, I could be completely wrong.”

“Well, let’s say you’re right and he did want me; that still doesn’t help me figure out what I should do now.”

“Do you want my advice?”

Ginny nodded.

“I don’t think you should do anything. Let him make the next move. You’ve given him more than enough encouragement tonight for him to see that you’re not so against being intimate with him as you were, and if he’s fool enough to waste it then I guess you can always resort to plan B.

“Which is?”

“Get him in a situation that he cannot resist. I’m sure his hormones will do the rest.”

Ginny blushed. “I don’t think that will work. I don’t know how to seduce anyone.”

Hermione smiled slightly to herself. If she knew anything about her friend, it was more likely that Ginny had been unwittingly seducing her husband this whole time. Really it was amazing that Draco had lasted this long.

“I don’t think it will come to that anyway,” said Hermione with a shrug. “He’s bound to do something, and then you’ll be able to tell how he truly feels about you. Just be patient and I’m sure something will work out.”

“It’s going to be very awkward,” Ginny said with a sigh. “I don’t even know how I’m going to speak to him again without feeling uncomfortable, and that’s not even adding into the equation that I’m in love with him.”

“It is a lot to take in at first,” mused Hermione with a thoughtful frown. “I’ll tell you what; why don’t you stay here tonight? It’ll give you some time to cool your emotions down and then tomorrow you can face him again with a bit more composure.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” agreed Ginny, grateful for the offer. “I really don’t want to see him right now, and I’m kind of worried that if I go back he might come looking for me and try apologise again. I did just walk out on him.”

“Then it’s settled.”

Ginny nodded, though she couldn’t help but hope that tomorrow she would wake up and find that it was all just a dream. This was not how she had expected things to turn out at all, and she was not looking forward to the awkward conversations that would arise because of it.

OOOO

The next day Draco found himself waking up to an empty bed. For a moment he just stared at the empty space where Ginny normally slept, a heavy feeling clenching at his heart. He had been expecting it, of course, but that had not stopped him from hoping all the same that he would wake up to find her beside him.

After Ginny had left the room the previous night he had spent the next fifteen minutes debating over whether he should go after her and apologise. In the end he had decided to do just that, but he had not found her anywhere. He had looked in every room, even summoned Tooky to ask if she had any idea where his wife had disappeared to, but Tooky had just as little clue as to where his wife’s whereabouts as he did.

His wife had simply vanished.

Draco was intelligent enough to know that it had been because of him. He may be just a man and not at all good with emotions, but he was no fool. He knew that he had hurt Ginny, apparently more than he had at first realised, and it was obvious to him that she now had no desire to speak to him. The guilt was inescapable, just as it was inevitable that he should worry.

He had been married to her for several weeks, and in that time it had become a natural instinct to protect her and make sure that she was happy. Having her so far away from him was troubling, but he knew that there was nothing he could do for her now. He had been the one to drive her away, after all, and so he could only hope that she had gone to someone who would give her the comfort she needed.

Draco stared once more at the empty space next to him. How often he had woken in the night at a sudden noise, thinking that it was Ginny coming back to him, only to find that it was nothing more than the usual noises of the night playing tricks on his mind. The disappointment had been crushing, just as it crushed him now to stare at the unoccupied space where her familiar face should have been.

He couldn’t take this. Not knowing where she was; not knowing if she was safe or happy—it was driving him insane. He needed to know she was all right; he needed to see her face again; he just needed her.

She had become so much a part of his life that even one night without her was enough to make him feel utterly lost. She was just too precious to him; too much a part of his heart. It just didn’t seem right to wake up and not see her smiling brown eyes meet his from across the bed, nor be greeted by her sleepy good morning that she wished him without fail every morning. It just didn’t seem right at all, and though he tried hard to deny it, he found himself missing her terribly.

Draco laughed softly to himself. “One night from her and I’m already losing it. Since when did she become so important to me?”

Something stirred in the house. He heard a door close and footsteps shuffling down the hallway.

Without even stopping to consider what he was doing, Draco was suddenly thrusting the covers off him and running out of the room, his eyes wild with hope, and his heart racing uncontrollably in his chest.

He skidded to a halt, his heart still beating furiously, but instead of being greeted by his wife’s youthful face, he saw the tiny elfish features of their house elf, Tooky; her big bulbous green eyes staring up at him in some consternation.

“Is the Master alright?” asked Tooky in her squeaky voice. “Master looks upset.”

Draco ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath as he did so. He was going mad; she was driving him mad. How else could he explain his erratic behaviour?

“I-I’m fine, Tooky,” he muttered somewhat self-consciously, knowing how ridiculous he must have looked sprinting out of his bedroom in only his pyjama bottoms. “My wife hasn’t come back yet, has she?”

“No, Master, but this letter came for you just now,” said Tooky, pulling out a folded piece of parchment from the spacious pocket of her outfit. “Tooky was just coming to give it to you.”

With trembling fingers Draco took the letter from the elf’s outstretched hand. He had a feeling he knew whom this letter was from, and one glance at the familiar writing was enough to concrete his suspicions.

Dismissing the elf with a curt nod, Draco walked back into this bedroom and sat down on the bed, already unfolding the parchment as he did so. He grimly began to read.

Draco,

I’m sorry for running out on you last night. I just couldn’t bring myself to stay after what we did; I hope you understand. I’m staying with a friend right now, so you don’t need to worry about me. I will be back later tonight.

Ginny.

A sigh escaped his lips, and silently he folded the letter up again and stared hard at the wall. For a moment he just sat there, a heavy frown on his lips, and then angrily he crushed the letter in his hands and abruptly left the room.

OOOO

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Armande, staring at his cousin in stunned incredulity. “Are you actually telling me that Ginny was practically throwing herself at you and you said no?”

“Yes,” sighed Draco, while staring absently at the drink in his hands.

“Did you chicken out or something?”

“No! It wasn’t like that at all! I just—I just couldn’t do that to her.”

“Do what?”

“I couldn’t sleep with her when I thought she would regret it the next day; I care about her too much to do that to her.”

Armande let out a low whistle. “Merlin’s pants, you’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

Draco took a long swig of his drink, which was answer enough to that question.

“That’s not alcohol, is it?” demanded Armande, suspiciously, “Because I know for a fact that Ginny will murder me with her bare hands if I let you get drunk out of your mind again.”

“It’s butterbeer,” retorted Draco, rolling his eyes. “I don’t think I’m going to get drunk from that.”

“It certainly looks like you’re trying to.”

Draco only rolled his eyes again and took another swig of his drink.

“Alright then, so you two got a little frisky in the night and almost lost your virgin petals, but, you know,” said Armande with a frown, “that doesn’t really tell me why you’re trying to drown yourself in butterbeer.”

“I think I made the wrong choice.”

“What?”

Draco sighed and frowned down at the bottle in his hand. “I mean I think I was wrong to stop things from going any further. My parents have been nagging at me for weeks to get her pregnant, and now I’ve completely blown the only opportunity I’ve ever been given.”

He glanced back up at his cousin, frustration etched into his brow. “She would not have stopped me last night, Armande. She was willing, but now she’s too upset to even talk to me! I’ve ruined everything, and yet there I was thinking that I was stopping us for our own good. I thought I was protecting her, but in the end I’ve only hurt her more than what I would have done if I had just gone through with it; not to mention effectively destroyed any hope my parents might have had. Ginny will never let me be that close to her again.”

“You don’t know that. If she was really as willing as you say she was, then I’m sure you could get her to be just as receptive another time. She’s already proven that she’s hot for you. It’s only a matter of using the right persuasion.”

“Are you suggesting that I seduce my wife?”

“Why not?”

Draco shook his head. “Maybe if I knew why she had kissed me last night I would try, but I don’t want to take advantage of her like that. It just seems wrong…”

Armande started chuckling uncontrollably.

Draco glowered at him. “What on earth is so funny?”

“You’re an old woman, that’s what!”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I’ve never met such a sorry excuse for a man. What the hell is wrong with you, Draco? A beautiful woman has practically screamed at you that she wants you, and all you can do is fret over why she feels that way. Most guys wouldn’t stop to ask questions; they’d just take the offer and worry about the details later.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Clearly,” retorted Armande without sympathy. “You’re acting like a fool, and if I were you I’d stop trying to be so damn noble (it doesn’t suit you, you know?) and just give your wife what you know you both want.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is. She’s already proven that she wants you. I bet you anything that the only reason why she doesn’t want to talk to you right now is because she’s embarrassed. You have to admit that you did use her most shamefully when you rejected her.”

“Well let’s say you’re right and that she does want me. Do you really think I can just go up to her now and expect her to have sex with me? I rejected her, Armande; I don’t think she’s going to be too eager to jump in the sack with me anytime soon.”

“Like I said,” explained his cousin with a sly smile, “if you use the right persuasion I think you could get her to do anything.”

Draco sighed. “You make it sound so easy, but I just can’t do that to her. Maybe last night I might have been able to if I knew what I did now, but I just can’t take advantage of her in that way.”

“I don’t see how today differs from last night.”

“Well, for one thing, my mind tends to think a bit more objectively when I’m not confronted with a beautiful, skimpily clad woman, who’s all too willing to have sex with me.”

“Naturally,” agreed his cousin, “but I still don’t see what the problem is. You care about her, don’t you?”

“Of course I care about her,” exclaimed Draco heatedly.

“Then I really don’t see why this is such a big deal to you,” responded Armande frankly. “If you care about her, then it’s not really taking advantage of her, now is it? It’s not like you’re going to have sex with her and then leave her. You’re married to her, for Merlin’s sake; you’re going to have your children with her. Don’t you see, Draco, you have every right to seduce her if that is what it will take!”

“It’s not the same! Our marriage isn’t like others. Maybe if I knew how she really felt about me it might change things, but at the moment I know nothing.”

“Can I offer some advice?”

“What?” Draco muttered, scowling down at his drink.

“Stop worrying about how she feels and start listening to that damn beating organ in your chest. You think too much, Draco—that’s your problem. Try listening to your heart a bit more; I think you’ll find it does wonders for letting you know what you should really be doing.”

“That’s a bit corny, don’t you think?”

“Corny? That’s some damn good advice there! You’re never going to get anywhere if you just sit here brooding to yourself, and I’ll be damned if I listen to your pitiful excuses any longer. You’re a fool, Draco. Stop worrying about the problem and start thinking of the solution.”

“I suppose you think you’re very wise right now,” remarked Draco dryly.

Armande suddenly gave a cheeky grin. “Well I’m a darn lot wiser than you when it comes to matters of the heart, and I’m younger than you.”

“Fine, oh wise one, what do you suggest I do?”

“I suggest you stop fretting over inconsequential things and start acting like a real husband to your wife. Ginny has given you an opening here, even if you made a mull of it the first time. You’d be an idiot if you waste this opportunity.”

“But I—”

Armande leaned forward and grimly met his cousin’s eyes. “Listen to me, Draco. You’re not going to get a chance like this again. Whether you like it or not, you know that you need to have a child with her—that is why you married her in the first place, after all. I think it’s time you put your scruples behind you and just do what you need to do while your wife is still willing. You can worry about love afterwards. You are going to have nine months before the baby comes, after all.”

“Maybe you’re right,” acquiesced Draco with a sigh. “I have to think of my father as well.”

“Yes you do. You said yourself that your marriage is different to others, and that also means that the two of you do not have the luxury of taking things slow. You don’t know if she loves you, I doubt you even know if you love her yourself, but there is attraction between you, and that should be enough to ensure her willingness to be intimate with you. Either way your father’s time is running out, and so now you must decide which is most important: waiting until you know she loves you, or letting your father see his grandchild before he dies.”

“You really are a true Malfoy, you know that?” observed Draco with a twisted smile.

“How so?”

“Because you’re just as manipulative as the rest of us.”

Armande seemed to take that as a compliment and merely smiled amiably at his cousin.

“Very well,” Draco said calmly. “I’ll do it. I think it’s impossible not to when you put it that way.”

“Good,” responded his cousin briskly. “Then I expect to hear tomorrow that you have at least made a push to get things moving with your wife.”

Draco nodded silently, though he still felt a little reluctant to go through with this. He just didn’t want her to regret anything, but he knew that Armande was right. He could not put this off any longer. Whether Ginny loved about him or not, he had to have a child with her.

It was time he fulfilled his duty.

OOOO

As Draco knew that Ginny was not going to return home until much later that night, he decided to pass the time by going to Diagon Alley and looking in at the shops. It was perhaps not the most exciting pastime he could think of, but staying at home in the empty house was only depressing him. The house seemed so silent when Ginny was not there, and that only made him edgy.

He lazily made his way down the crowded streets of Diagon Ally, not really paying attention to anything much in particular, when an unwelcome sight suddenly registered to his vision.

There was his wife, and attached to her arm, looking as bold as he pleased, was Blaise Zabini. Judging by the somewhat amused smile on her lips, he was keeping her well entertained as well.

Draco’s eyes narrowed. His first thought was to go over there and rant at the both of them, but he had already discovered from experience how that tended to turn out, and right now he had no desire to get into an argument with his wife again. He could not be certain what he would do to her when he was feeling so angry—his temper never have being the best—and he did not want to hurt her, no matter how much she may have hurt him just now.

It was time to use his head and check his impulsiveness.

With considerable restraint he waited until Ginny had said goodbye to the handsome dark man by her side and had continued on her way through the crowd. Once she was a safe distance, Draco quickly made his way over to where his old school companion still stood; noting with building rage the small, sly smile playing on that hateful mouth.

It had only taken that stupid smile to set Draco off into an uncontrollable passion of jealous fury. His wife had said to him that she had been staying with a friend; he had not thought that she had meant Blaise Zabini, and though at first he had been inclined to give her the benefit of doubt, that disgusting smile was enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Zabini!” Draco roared, his hands clenching into ready fists.

Blaise turned at the sound of his own name and seemed a little surprised—and alarmed—to see Draco advancing purposely towards him.

“Draco, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Draco did not hesitate. Without a word he pulled back his arm and let his knuckles crack into the haughty, perfect nose of the other gentleman’s face with all the force he could muster. Blaise let out cry of pain and stumbled backwards, clutching at his face where blood was already beginning to gush out down his hands in a pool of crimson.

“Are you out of your mind, Malfoy?” demanded Blaise angrily, though still feeling rather shaken from the sudden attack. He was no fighter, and his head felt terribly jolted from Draco’s very violent attack—not to mention the excruciating pain of having his nose broken—but his very understandable rage was almost making him forget how much he detested violence.

Indeed, that haughty young man was almost considering trying his hand at drawing the claret of the steely-eyed man before him, but then his eyes once again fell to the brutal fist that had made quick and bloody work of his face, and he decided that perhaps it was better if he didn’t. Who knew how Draco would react, after all?

“Stay away from my wife, Zabini!” growled Draco threateningly. “I know your games, and I know that you’ve got your eyes on her, but if you even think of putting a finger on my wife, I will personally make sure that you can never enjoy the pleasures of a woman again!”

Blaise swallowed hard. Draco looked very angry right now, and though the threat was rather absurd, there was something in those furious grey eyes that made him almost believe that Draco was telling the truth.

It was time to tread carefully.

“I was merely talking to her,” said Blaise in his most winning voice. “You can’t fault me for that. You must know Draco, as your friend, that I would never do anything to your wife.”

“You’re not my friend,” retorted Draco shortly, “And I certainly wouldn’t trust your word on anything. You’re a lying little sneak, and I don’t want you talking to my wife, or even breathing the same air as my wife! I don’t know why she came to you last night—and you can be sure that I’ll be dealing with her about that later—but if I find that you’ve touched her, I’ll—” Draco clenched his fists, suddenly overcome by his feelings, and glared insidiously at the man before him. “Let’s just say you’d better hope you haven’t laid so much as a finger on her.”

Blaise blinked in surprise. He was not sure what had happened last night, but he was not the kind of man to miss an opportunity to stir trouble. If Draco wanted to believe that his pretty little wife had run to him, then Blaise was more than happy to let the steely-eyed man believe that. In fact, it suited his revenge quite nicely. He was already feeling rather humiliated and angry, and this was the perfect way to punish the impudent Malfoy.

“I would have thought that it was obvious why she came to me,” said Blaise with spiteful relish. “She knew that I could satisfy her where you could not.”

“If you dared—” snarled Draco, grabbing a fistful of Blaise’s robes threateningly.

Blaise smiled maliciously. “Oh, did I hit a sensitive spot? Tell me, Draco, did you ever end up taming the tigress? I am curious, you know—only think how amusing it would be if I have gotten there before you did yourself.”

Three seconds later Blaise was on the ground and groaning in considerable pain, an ugly bruise already beginning to form around his eye. Draco flexed his fingers slightly with a small wince, but all and all looked grimly satisfied with himself.

“You’d best hope we don’t see each other again, Zabini,” Draco said coldly, his eyes glaring darkly down at the crumpled figure on the ground. “You have no idea how much I would like to kill you right now.”

“It was worth it,” Blaise gritted out, spiteful to the very last. “If only to have heard your wife moan my name on her pretty lips.”

Draco’s eyes flashed, but by this point the crowd of people surrounding them had gathered what was going on between the two men, and a very large and burly gentleman came rushing over and pulled Draco away before he could do anymore damage to the already bloody and disfigured gentleman lying on the ground.

“Let go of me!” Draco shouted, trying to break free from the ridiculously large man. “I’m going to kill him!”

“That’s why I ain’t letting you go, sonny. You need to cool down before you do something foolish.”

Draco watched furiously as Blaise disapparated away, feeling even more enraged that the licentious little rat had managed to escape his wrath.

The large gentleman abruptly released him, but Draco spared him no thanks. He merely fixed up his robe, gave an angry glare at his helper, and then stormed off down the street in a cloud of dark rage.

He couldn’t believe that Ginny would do this to him! He just couldn’t believe it! So much for her innocent airs and shy blushes; she was nothing but a conniving vixen!

To think that she had left him last night to go to the bed of that—that man-whore! And he—Merlin, he had spent half the night fretting about her and wondering if she was okay, when in that very moment she had probably been sinfully enclosed in the arms of Blaise Zabini, a man he absolutely detested!

He was furious with her: furious and bitter and upset, and not at all ready to forgive her. How could she do this to him? Didn’t he mean anything to her at all? Didn’t she care that she had just ripped out his heart and crushed it with her thoughtless, lustful behaviour?

What a fool he had been to worry about her. Yes, and now he felt even more humiliated knowing that tonight he had been planning to apologise her and start afresh with their relationship. There was no question of doing that now—the very thought of being with her in such a way made him sick.

He would never forgive her for this, but he was going to get an explanation. She at least owed him that.

OOOO

By the time Ginny returned home that night Draco had calmed down considerably, though his temper was still very much frayed. He swore to himself that he would not hurt her though, and he planned to stick by that no matter what happened. He was not that deranged to physically cause her pain, though there was no denying that she had driven him insane with jealousy and bitterness.

Draco stiffened as he heard her voice mumble something to Tooky from outside the room, and then listened intently as her soft tread came closer to the door of their bedroom. The door opened, and Ginny slowly walked into the room, her body practically screaming her nervousness with the way her hands kept agitatedly rubbing against her arms.

“Hello,” she said quietly, not quite meeting his eyes.

Draco stared at her in stony silence.

Looking very uncomfortable, Ginny quickly made her way over to her dressing room and was about to open the door when Draco finally spoke.

“Whose robe is that?”

Ginny paused, her hand resting on the door handle, and turned to stare at her husband in some surprise. “My friend lent it to me. You could hardly expect me to wander around in that nightdress all day.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded,” Draco muttered before he could stop himself.

“He?” Ginny’s brows drew together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Draco slammed his fist on the bed, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Don’t play innocent with me! You know just as well I do what you did!”

Ginny could only shake her head in increasing bewilderment.

“How could you do it, Ginny?” he demanded, his choked voice clearly betraying his hurt. “Why him?”

“Do what? What are you talking about?”

“I know you were with Zabini last night!”

“Zabini?” Ginny laughed, somewhat relieved it was only that, and stared at him in frank amusement. “What on earth has Zabini to do with anything? I wouldn’t go to him even if he paid me a million galleons.”

“No? Then why did I see you walking with him in town today?”

Ginny sighed in exasperation. “Not this again. Merlin, Draco! How many times do I have to tell you that Zabini means nothing to me? I just happened to bang into him in town and he demanded—yes demanded—that I should allow him to walk me down the street. I only managed to get rid of him when I said I was going home.”

“Dammit, Ginny, do you take me for a fool?” exploded Draco, standing up abruptly from the bed. “He told me what you two did last night! He told me everything!”

“What?”

“You look surprised,” observed her husband dryly. “I suppose you never thought I’d find out about it, did you? I probably wouldn’t have either if Zabini hadn’t been able to resist boasting to me of his conquest. You should have known that he wouldn’t keep it secret. He hates me too much to do that, and knowing him he probably didn’t use protection either just so I would have to suffer you having some bastard brat with him.”

“What?” shrieked Ginny, her hands clenching tightly into admirable little fists. “How dare he say that about me! Oh, when I get my hands on him—”

“Like I said, you should have known he would not have been able to resist boasting of his conquest,” cut in Draco coldly. “It’s a game with Blaise to have sex with other men’s wives.”

Ginny’s eyes snapped furiously on his. “You actually think this is true then?”

“How can it not be?”

“How can it not b—Merlin, Draco, you make me want to box your ears! How can you be so stupid as to think that I would actually want to have sex with that—that sleazebag!?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time Zabini has seduced someone else’s wife, and I already knew he had his eye on you.”

“I don’t believe this,” Ginny cried almost tearfully. “You would believe his word over mine? You would believe his spiteful little lies when you know he hates you and wants to hurt you? Don’t you see, Draco, he’s just lying to you! You must know I would never do that to you! Never!”

“Where were you last night if you were not with him?”

“I was with Hermione! You can even ask her if I was there!”

Draco stared at her in frustrated confusion, torn between what and who to believe. He wanted to believe her; he almost did believe her, but at the same time the odds were all against her.

Why hadn’t she told him in the letter that she was staying with Hermione? Why had she been so careful to use the vague description of ‘friend’? Even more damning was the fact that he had seen her strolling arm-in-arm with the sneak, and she had been smiling very much at her pleasure while doing so. Add into the equation that Blaise had been a little too gleeful to disclose that he had slept with Ginny for it to be lie, and Draco knew his mind was set.

She had to be lying.

“How can I believe you, Ginny?” he asked more quietly, his rage now giving way to weary resignation. “For all I know you could have already arranged for her to say that you were there.”

Tears welled up in Ginny’s brown eyes and slid down her cheeks. “Do you really have so little faith in me?” she asked in a pitifully small voice. “Have I done anything to deserve such distrust from you? Have I?”

Draco looked away, feeling suddenly ashamed by her tears and her pitiful cry. What if he had been wrong? It wouldn’t be the first time.

She walked forward and grasped his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her glistening eyes that pleaded with his so desperately. “Please, Draco,” she begged earnestly, “you have to believe me when I say that I did not sleep with Blaise Zabini, and nor will I ever do so with any man besides yourself. I am your wife; my body belongs to you, and you only. I would never let another man touch what is rightfully yours.”

He clasped his hands around her wrists, his eyes gazing searchingly into hers. The truth stared back at him as clearly as the tears slipping one-by-one down her pale cheeks, and suddenly a new emotion swept through him; crushing his heart in a painful grip of remorse.

Draco broke away from her, stumbling slightly in the dizzy rush of emotions overwhelming his body. “I’m such a fool!” he groaned, placing his hands over his eyes. “My god, Ginny, how can I ever expect you to forgive me after this? I should have known right from the beginning that you would not play me like that, and I did know it too! I was just so angry, and when I saw you with him I couldn’t think, I just—”

He broke off and walked back to her, gripping her shoulders tightly, and gazing down into her eyes with the desperation of a man knowing he now had once chance to attain forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, Ginny! I’m so, so sorry! Please tell me how I can make it up to you!”

Ginny silently leaned her face against his wildly beating heart and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You don’t have to do anything. Knowing you believe me is more than enough, just please don’t do it again. It hurts me to have you question my loyalty.”

Draco closed his eyes and buried his face into her hair, pulling her close against him. “I will never doubt you again. I promise.”