Disclaimer: All that you recognise belongs to JKR.

Warning: None.

A/N: I’m so sorry! No I have not forgotten about this story, but I’ve moved house and have no internet. I’ve been trying to find a computer that has internet to upload this chapter, and now I finally have!

I’m hoping to get the internet up and running at my house, but until then I can’t promise that I will be able to update anytime soon.

Branching Off

It did not take Ginny long to settle back in the Manor, though she found herself feeling rather flustered upon the discovery that Narcissa had planned a very grand ball to celebrate her and Draco’s marriage. As the wedding had been private, it was only fitting that a much larger and grander ball should be given in honour of the newly wedded couple.

Ginny knew that she should have seen it coming, but that didn’t stop her from feeling terribly nervous. This was going to be her first outing since marrying Draco, and this ball would also give her an indication of how society was going to receive her in her new role as his wife. It was nerve-wracking, and for the first time Ginny had no idea what to wear for the momentous occasion.

She felt like she had to be beautiful, more beautiful than every other woman that would be there, but the sad truth was that she was not. Every dress seemed to make her look hideous in her eyes and she just could not for the life of her get her hair to curl right. It was a nightmare, and feelingly increasingly frustrated and depressed, Ginny threw yet another rejected dress to the ground and collapsed against the large four-poster bed, her doleful eyes casting upwards to stare at the ceiling in defeat.

“It’s no use!” she exclaimed dispiritedly to herself, looking the complete picture of tragic forlornness.

The door opened. Propping herself up on one elbow, Ginny looked inquisitively in its direction to discover who had intruded in on her dressing tribulations; only to see her husband walk into the room, looking very handsome indeed in his chosen evening attire.

His well-formed legs were encased in the finest of black knee-breeches and gleaming Hessians, his slender body—which Ginny had been at leisure to admire quite a few times now (though never while he was watching)—was put off to advantage in a white waistcoat, complemented by a tasteful black over-coat. His cravat was impeccably tied in a style that she believed to be a variation of his own creation; completing this spellbinding vision of elegance and refinement.

He was immaculate in appearance, with not a hair out of place, and Ginny had to admit that whatever faults her husband had, style certainly was not one of them. He just knew how to put himself off to advantage.

Perhaps it was a Malfoy trait, for Ginny didn’t think she had seen any of the Malfoys wear something that could be considered dreadful or a trifle ostentatious. Even Armande, who was quite careless with his appearance, always managed to look ridiculously handsome in his own boyish way.

Draco, quite oblivious to this favourable assessment of his looks, paused for a moment at the door, his steely eyes widening just a fraction as they rested on his wife. Whatever he had been expecting to find upon entering their room, it was clear by the surprise etched onto his face that it was not to see his wife reclining on their bed in nothing but a petticoat and her unmentionables, with a mountain of discarded dresses surrounding her in an ominous way. 

Of course, Draco did not at first realise the full danger of his entrance, being rather distracted by the seductive image his wife now unwittingly exhibited for him.

His eyes quite helplessly glided up the bare legs so innocently displayed to him, but he realised with some disappointment that her petticoat stopped short of taking his vision to more risqué heights, and so shifted his gaze to a more satisfying view; following the feminine curve of her waist up to her breasts where a considerable amount of cleavage was exposed due to the nature of the undergarments she was wearing.

This enhancing garment, quit naturally, was unknown to him, and Draco was far too interested in the effect to question how such admirable cleavage had been achieved. As such, he was blissfully allowed to believe that his wife’s breasts were naturally formed in such a way as to attract his appreciative eye.

It suddenly dawned on him that his voyeuristic behaviour might not be acceptable to his wife, but try as he might—for he did not like to be thought a pervert—he found his gaze riveted to her body and could not bring himself to look away.

Ginny, who had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she had barely noticed her husband’s amorous gaze, now sat up properly on the bed and stared at him questioningly. His slightly slack mouth and wandering eye was only just beginning to sink into her brain, but before she could fully fathom the reasons for this slightly stupefied and appreciative expression, Draco finally got a hold of himself and trained his eyes back to the much safer view of her face. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, shutting the door behind him. “I forgot to knock.”

Shrugging her shoulders carelessly, Ginny absently straightened her petticoat and gave him a forgiving smile. “It’s okay. It’s not like you saw anything.”

Draco said nothing. He was far too busy trying not to imagine what she would look like without the body-hugging petticoat.

“What are you doing here anyway?” asked Ginny, blissfully unaware of her husband’s questionable thoughts. “I thought you and Armande were practising your targeting skills in the duelling room.” 

Vaguely realising that he was being spoken to, Draco blinked and stared at her in some confusion. “What? Oh! Well we were supposed to, but I, er, seemed to have misplaced my wand somewhere. You haven’t seen it, have you?”

Ginny’s eyes automatically flashed about the room in search of the elusive wand and then spotted a thin piece of wood resting quite noticeably on the bedside table. An amused smile settled on her face, and thinking it was just like Draco to forget that he had not taken his wand with him this morning, she picked up the wand and waved it slightly mockingly before his eyes.

“Is this it?”

He let out a sigh and walked towards her, a rueful smile coming to his lips. “Yes that’s it.”

Ginny laughed and handed the wand over to him, her eyes smiling sympathetically but still holding that teasing light. “I always find that whenever I lose something it is always in the last place I look, simply because of the fact that it just seems too obvious that it should be there.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as he pocketed the wand. “Clearly your findings are right. I’ve been backtracking my steps for the past forty minutes, thinking that it couldn’t possibly be in my room, and yet here it was the whole time. It’s just my luck really.”

“Oh well,” said his wife consolingly. “It could have been worse; you could have really lost your wand, and then what would you have done?”

Draco grimaced, looking naturally horrified at losing such a treasured possession. “That would be horrible,” he agreed.

He fell silent and cast his eyes about the room, once again taking in the collection of dresses that had been discarded in huffy irritation. He looked back down at Ginny, a frown forming on his lips. “You know, the ball is starting in ten minutes. Don’t you think you should get dressed?”

“What?” shrieked Ginny, feeling quite naturally dismayed at the discovery that she had only ten minutes to find something to wear. “Ten minutes, did you say?”

He nodded. “I believe some of the guests have already arrived.”

Ginny let out a groan and buried her face into her hands. “Oh Merlin, what am I going to do? I can’t find anything to wear in my wardrobe!”

“I see,” remarked her husband in a dry voice, eyeing the many dresses that had been scattered across the bed and floor with a raised eyebrow. “Well perhaps that is because all of your wardrobe is on the floor.”

Two brown eyes suddenly flashed up at him in heated defence. “Don’t you start getting cheeky with me!” The fury in her eyes died a little and she fell back to staring dejectedly at her lap. “Anyway, it’s not that I don’t have any dresses to wear; I just don’t want to wear them. I just—I just feel so ugly,” she ended with a pitiful sigh.

Normally Ginny would not have confessed such a thing, but she was well and truly at her wits end. It was just one of those days, and no amount of shame could deter her from venting her frustrations.

It was the terrible aggravation that all women faced, and though it was more often than not a mere figment of that woman’s imagination that she looked ugly in all her clothes, that did not change the fact that she did indeed feel quite hideous in whatever item of clothing she chose to wear.

Draco was stunned by this admission, to say the least, and realised in some discomfort that his male instincts had been right in thinking that he had stumbled into a feminine dilemma he was quite certain he did not want to be a part of.

He frowned down at his wife’s hunched over form, wondering what he could possibly say to make her feel better; for though he was reluctant to embroil himself in such an affair, he did genuinely care about his wife’s feelings and did not like to see her looking so downcast.

The only problem was that he had no idea what would make her feel better. He didn’t think she looked ugly—in fact, he thought quite the opposite—but his pride would not allow him to say that, and so he, like the typical male he was, decided to take the cowardly option and make a strategic retreat; hoping that somehow her mood would miraculously lift with his departure.

“I, uh, don’t think I’m the best person to help with that,” Draco replied in a distinctly uncomfortable voice, while slowly edging his way towards the door. “Perhaps I could get Alexia or my mother to help you—”

Her face abruptly lifted back up to his at his words, and before he could even realise what she was doing, Ginny was suddenly standing before him and grasping his hands tightly in hers; her eyes sparkling in a way that made him feel all the more wary and uncomfortable.

“No! No you’re wrong,” she exclaimed happily, almost swinging his arms in her enthusiasm. “You’re the perfect person to help me with this!”

Aware of how close she was, as well as having to face an even more obvious reminder of her lack of clothing, Draco tried to disengage himself from her hold, saying uncomfortably, “Really, Ginny, I think you’d prefer a female. I don’t know anything about women’s clothes or—”

His protests fell on deaf ears.

“Don’t be ridiculous! You’re a man, aren’t you? Of course you know what will look good on me!”

Pulling him ruthlessly by the hand, Ginny dragged him back to the bed and forced him to sit down. He could only sigh in resignation, knowing there was no point arguing with her when she got like this, and waited patiently while she collected all of the dresses from the floor and placed them down on the bed next to him.

“I’m not going to sit here while you try on every one of those dresses,” Draco stated bluntly, eyeing the mountainous pile of clothes in some aversion. “There must be at least twenty dresses in that pile!”

“Of course I’m not going to try on all of them. I’m just going to hold them up against me and you’re going to tell me which ones you like; then at the end you can decide which one you think suits me the best.”

“Well that makes me feel much better,” muttered her undutiful husband dryly, but he acquiesced to her desires nevertheless, and raised his eyes critically to assess the sapphire coloured dress she now held up against her body.

He thought she looked pretty enough, but, as he had already caught a glimpse of some of the female guests invited to the ball—many of them having been wearing blue—he decided that a blue dress simply would not do. His wife needed to stand out; not that she didn’t already catch one’s eye with that shockingly vibrant hair of hers.

“Not the blue one,” said Draco firmly.

Ginny nodded and let the blue dress drop from her hand. “No, I didn’t think so when I tried it on earlier either.”

The next few dresses were consigned to the same fate. One was too insipid, another too brassy, and one clashed so horribly with her red hair that Draco couldn’t help but ask her why she had bought it in the first place.

“I don’t know,” admitted Ginny in a gloomy voice, throwing the offending article on top of the other discarded dresses. “I thought it looked good on me at the time, but maybe you’re right. In any case, we’re still no closer to finding me a dress to wear, and I cannot go down there in my petticoat!”

Draco chuckled slightly. “Well you can’t deny that you would certainly make a statement if you did.”

Ginny grinned in spite of herself, her chestnut eyes meeting his with an odd mixture of amusement and reproof. “Yes I daresay I would, but do be serious, Draco. This is important.”

“I am being serious. You would make a statement, though I admit that the women might hate you for it. However, I can vouch for the men being perfectly delighted with you.”

A blush spread across her cheeks. Though he had said the words flippantly enough, there was something about the appreciative gleam in his steely eyes that lent some truth to the joking comment; causing a sudden wave of nervous shyness to envelope her.

The discovery that he found her physically appealing was as frightening as it was flattering, and determinedly avoiding his gaze, she picked up another dress from the pile on the bed and tried hard to ignore the way her heart had suddenly quickened with erratic fervour.

It suddenly became imperative to not let him see how much his words had effected her, and with an admirable display of nonchalance, Ginny held up the dress to her body; saying quite light-heartedly, “Well since you can hardly want men to be ogling me all night, and I don’t really want to be the object of every woman’s hatred, I think we can count that option out. Now tell me, what do you think of this dress?”

Allowing his gaze to take in the dress she was now holding up for him (a charming creation of embedded pearls, lace and cream silk), Draco nodded his head approvingly. “It looks good.”

Delighted that they had finally come to an agreement, Ginny forgot all about her previous embarrassment and thanked him with a grateful smile before flittering off to her dressing table to get changed. It soon became apparent, however, that the reach of her arms did not quite extend far enough for her to do up the back of the dress.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, she awkwardly tried to get her fingers to grasp at the ties, when hands suddenly closed over hers. She froze, feeling suddenly paralysed, and felt her heart quicken.

“Here, let me,” said Draco softly from behind her, his breath lightly brushing against her neck in a way that sent pleasant shivers to run down her spine.

Ginny swallowed hard. She was very conscious of his proximity, every sense seeming to be heightened, allowing her to smell the faint but intoxicating scent of his cologne and almost feel a strange sort of electric pull between them that made her quite breathless. Her heart was pounding fervently in her chest, spurred on by the strange nervous excitement she was feeling, and obediently she let her hands drop to her side, giving him her permission to fasten her dress.

His fingers gently moved her hair to fall over her shoulder and lightly brushed against her skin as he deftly started doing up the ties on the dress—every touch sending feather light flutters to shoot through her stomach.

He did not purposely try to touch her, nor did he linger too long to give the impression that he was taking pleasure from being so close to her. In fact, he was so business-like in his manner that it really should not have effected her at all; yet Ginny could not help but stand with bated breath, not quite sure what to think or what to feel, and finding herself experiencing the oddest urge to close her eyes.       

Draco fastened the last tie and then stood back from her. Ginny turned and looked up into his handsome face, meeting his curiously grey eyes for just a moment, before she quickly lowered her gaze again to her feet; her cheeks lightly blossoming with pink.

“Thank you,” she mumbled in a shy voice, keeping her eyes lowered in her embarrassment.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, the faintest of smiles curling his lip. “I could see that if left to your own devices you probably would have ended up pulling a muscle.”

Ginny couldn’t help but laugh, her eyes darting back up to his with an expression so open and friendly that he felt something tug at his heart that was not quite fond amusement.

He firmly pushed the feelings to the side. “Are you ready then?” he asked in a sudden shift back to his business-like manner.

“Not yet.”

She turned back to the dresser and tugged on a pair of long, silk gloves, slipped on a pair of very pretty pearl earrings that complemented her dress nicely, and then added the last few finishing touches of make-up. A frown flittered across her lips, and deftly she fixed up her hair so that all the curls were kept up and threaded with a cream ribbon, allowing a lock of red hair to rest artlessly over her shoulder.

“Done!” said Ginny happily, turning back to face him with a satisfied smile on her lips.

Perhaps he was just feeling particularly mellow that night, but instead of giving her a curt nod as he usually did, Draco smiled nicely down at her and offered his arm. “Then, shall we go?”

Linking her arm with his, a smile gracing her own lips, Ginny nodded her head and together they exited the room.

Whatever delight Ginny might have taken in the grand design of her own coming-out ball, the Malfoys truly eclipsed all of that with the beautiful ballroom she now entered.

Chandeliers burning with what seemed like hundreds of candles hung down from the roof, where Ginny noticed a charm had been placed just like the one at Hogwarts to reflect the starry night sky. The effect was that it felt like one was walking into heaven through a corridor of pearly white, and made little stars of simple delight glitter in her chestnut eyes.

Marble white pillars adorned the perimeter of the ballroom, holding up white vases decorated with silver ribbons, and in them were a large bunch of perfect white roses, tastefully arranged by Narcissa herself. It was very beautiful, and by far the most elegant design Ginny had seen since coming to London.

“Wow,” was all she could muster, her eyes wide with the splendour of it all.

Draco laughed lightly. “Give your compliments to my mother. She was the one who designed all this.”

Ginny opened her mouth to reply, but just in that moment Armande had bounded over to them and interrupted their tête-à-tête with a loud exclamation of: “Took you two long enough! Aunt Cissy was having kittens once she realised that you had still not come down. She seemed to think the two of you might not come down at all.”

“Whatever can she have thought that for?” mused Ginny in some surprise. “I hope Draco and I are not so lost to decorum that we don’t know what we owe to our names, or to Narcissa.”

Armande shrugged. “I don’t know what maggot she took into her head, but I’m pleased you did come. I can’t say I’m enjoying my first ball,” he scrunched up his face in boyish distaste, “Everyone stares at you so, and some mammoth of a woman actually pinched my cheek and called me her engaging Frenchman.”

He shuddered dramatically and cast a nervous glance behind him so as to make sure the frightening woman was not still lingering in the hopes of getting another grasp at the ravaged cheek.

Ginny’s eyes twinkled. “Not enjoying the ladies’ attention, Armande? I wouldn’t have thought it. You always were a flirt.”

“I do not find these women fort amusant,” replied that graceless boy bluntly, “and I cannot flirt with a mammoth.”

Both Draco and Ginny laughed, but as more guests were filing in from the doors behind them, the conversation was stopped abruptly. There was nothing more for the group to do but disband; with Draco leading Ginny towards some of the more notable people invited to make the expected rounds and introductions, and Armande—perceiving where they were heading—abandoning the couple for more amusing entertainment.

An elderly woman, who reminded Ginny of preying mantis, beckoned Draco to come to her with a fan; shooting him imperious looks that could not be ignored with her large, dark eyes.

“Brace yourself,” muttered Draco in a voice of ominous foreboding, while guiding Ginny towards the woman. “This is one of the leading patronesses of high society. She can make or break a person, no matter how pure their blood is. You’d better be on your best behaviour, unless you want a whole lot of nasty gossip to be spun about you.”

A dimple peeped out and two chestnut eyes twinkled up at him. “As if I would be anything but on my best behaviour.”

Draco met her mischievous smile with misgiving, but any words he might have said were cut short by the sound of a fan snapping shut and a voice, decidedly haughty, exclaiming, “Mrs Malfoy, I do not believe we have had the pleasure. Allow me to make your acquaintance. I am Mrs Penkridge.”

One regal hand was extended, but it took Ginny a moment to realise that the very intimidating woman holding out a hand to her and eyeing her appraisingly through hawk-like eyes was actually speaking to her. She had almost forgotten that her new title was Mrs Malfoy.

Gathering her wits together, Ginny accepted the proffered hand held out to her with dutiful politeness. “It is a pleasure, Mrs Penkridge,” she said in an admirable recovery of formality, while slightly inclining her head. “You will have to forgive my not attending. I’m still getting used to being a married woman.”

Draco’s lips twitched but he said nothing.

Mrs Penkridge released her hand, a frosty smile coming to her lips. “Ah yes, you are used to being addressed as ‘Miss Weasley’, are you not? We have not had any Weasleys here since your father made a name of himself by running off with Molly Prewitt. Couldn’t afford the expenses, I suppose.”

Ginny shifted uncomfortably. “Something like that.”

Mrs Penkridge simply nodded and then turned her cold black eyes towards Draco. “I confess I did not think to see you married so early, young Malfoy. You have surprised us all. A love match I presume?”

Both Draco and Ginny flushed and exchanged quick, embarrassed glances.

An enlightened smile curved Mrs Penkridge’s thin lips. “I see.”

Whatever it was the haughty woman had seen, Ginny was unsure, but she was feeling distinctly uncomfortable and could still feel her cheeks burning at the thought of being in love with her husband.

Thankfully Draco had the presence of mind to excuse them from any more impudent questions; saying, quite politely, that he and Ginny were both happy with their marriage—while taking care not to hint at it being arranged or romantically founded—and then expressed his wish to introduce his wife to the other guests.

Mrs Penkridge was left with no option but to incline her head in dismissal and allow the discomforted couple to leave.

Ginny placed one gloved hand against her burning cheek and wilfully tried to arrange her face into a more composed expression. “I cannot believe how impertinent people can be!” she exclaimed in a fierce whisper, once they were safe from earshot. “To think that she actually demanded to know whether we loved each other!”

Her husband, having already mastered his feelings and his countenance, was nevertheless able to sympathise with her repugnance and embarrassment at having been thus accosted by such an upfront, arrogant woman. He agreed that Mrs Penkridge had gone too far into inquiring the nature of their marriage, but was careful not to say anything more on the matter. His reserve did not allow him to flirt with such a dangerous topic as love—especially with his wife, who already invaded his thoughts far too often for his comfort.

Ginny took the hint and did not continue the subject.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. Ginny was introduced to several people—many whose names she forgot just as quickly as she learnt them—and was in such good spirits that those who did make her acquaintance were agreeably surprised with the latest addition to the Malfoy name.

They had come with the expectation of meeting a very different girl to the charming young woman presented to them—who blended an intriguing and refreshing degree of impishness with a quiet, unaffected dignity; giving her an air of easy good humour and yet, at the same time, pleasing refinement. Even the most hardened of her critics found little fault in her behaviour, and many were on their way to professing the young Mrs Malfoy to be a very amiable young woman and not at all the vulgar hoyden they had been led to believe in.

That Ginny’s good spirits were mainly due to the fact that she felt obligated to be on her best behaviour, as well as the fact that Draco was equally in a good humour, did not occur to anyone.

It was true that no one could be more charming than Ginny when she wished to be, but her lively sense of the ridiculous often led her to say things best left unsaid, and it was a testament to her sense of duty that she bit her tongue instead of letting loose half the remarks she wished to make. She did not, however, spare these remarks from her husband, but as he laughed with her on her observations—even making a few of his own—this was no bad thing.

Thus, armed with the respect that naturally accompanied the Malfoy name, and blessed with manners that were not at all unpleasant, Ginny quickly secured a great deal more success in her new society than she could have hoped for; inspiring many of the people present, who had previously received her with frosty smiles, to thaw in their dislike of her and treat her with much more kindness and respect.

Not only that, but it seemed that Daphne had been speaking the truth when she had expressed a desire to befriend Ginny, and had wasted no time in renewing their acquaintance. Pansy soon followed suit, having shrewdly realised that Ginny was no longer a nobody to be ignored, and happily was able to converse on topics that were much more satisfactory than Daphne’s silly twittering conversations of gossip, herself and men; instantly securing Ginny’s gratitude and friendship.  

Even Lucius Malfoy rose to the occasion by rousing himself from the depths of his dark bedchamber to make an appearance—if a very brief one. He painstakingly made the effort in singling his daughter-in-law out; showing to the world that he had accepted her into his family by making a toast to the newly-wedded couple, and more particularly, to the spirited bride at his son’s side.

It was true that this rare act of gallantry was indeed just an act, but Lucius took family pride very much to heart and was not going to reveal his dislike of his son’s wife to anybody that was not his own family—even if she had been born a Weasley.

After this astonishing act, the senior Malfoy once again retired to his boudoir, but his presence and words had made their mark. Even more people were inclined to like the new Mrs Malfoy—not wanting to offend such a respectable and awe-inspiring figure as Lucius Malfoy; who had made it clear that he had sanctioned the marriage with great pleasure.

Of course, it was true that not everyone was pleased with the latest addition to the Malfoy family, and did not hesitate to make their dislike shown through thinly veiled remarks and fake smiles. However, as these people consisted of Alexia, Sephrina and some other women and men who were known to be just as haughty and spiteful, their dislike made little impact. Ginny was determined to please and be pleased by everybody, no matter how false and fickle they might be.

There was one person, however, who she did not have to question the integrity of the happy smile shown to her. No sooner had Ginny spotted her dear friend Kitty then was she seen to be making her way quickly over, greeting the brunette with a hug and a broad smile, which she amply received in return.

“I swear it’s been an age!” Kitty declared, pulling back from the embrace. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier that you were married to Draco Malfoy? I could have sworn it was Julian who had your affections.”

Ginny blanched at the reminder of Julian Adderson, who, try as she might, would not fade into the nether-regions of her mind, and forced an indifferent smile to her lips. Close as she was to her friend, she found that she could not confess the truth of her odd marriage to Draco.

“I daresay I thought he was handsome, but I came to realise that it was Draco I truly loved.”

It was surprising how easy the lie came to her lips.

Kitty seemed satisfied by this, merely giving a slight toss of her head and a small shrug. “Well, if you say so. I can’t say I would pick Malfoy over Julian, but then I suppose you know him far better than I do.”

“He’s not so bad as you think.”

Her friend did not argue the matter, and instead questioned Ginny on how this all came about. As Ginny had no wish to embarrass herself or her husband by saying the truth, she fabricated quite a few reasons to explain the matter, knowing she would have to let Draco know of her lies later. No doubt he was doing the same though. It was no secret that neither wished people to know the real reason behind their marriage. It was just too lowering to be considered a member of such a marriage as one of convenience.

Kitty was delighted, claimed the whole affair was very romantic, and could only be sorry that she had not been there to witness the wedding herself. She then questioned Ginny on the honeymoon—something Ginny had no desire to elaborate on.

Ginny cautiously answered that it was all she had expected it to be, and left it at that.

“Mrs Malfoy,” interrupted a familiar voice from behind them, “I beg you will forgive my intrusion, but you must allow me to offer you my felicitations on your marriage to my friend. I hope he has made you comfortable?”

Ginny turned, an easy smile coming to her lips, and greeted the serious face of Theodore Nott with an amused glint in her eyes. Clever, she thought to herself. Talking to me while I am conversing with Kitty.

Her smile grew. “Thank you. Draco has made me very comfortable. And how have you been since we last met? I hope your business is going well?”

“Much better, thank you.”

His hazel eyes shifted to Kitty, who blushed faintly under his gaze. “How do you do, Miss Katherine?”

“F-fine, thank you,” she responded in a small voice.

“I am glad to hear it.”

Kitty managed a tight smile and then stared determinedly at her hands. It was clear that she was too intimidated and uncomfortable to do anything more.

Ginny and Theodore fell back into talking, exchanging pleasantries about nothing in particular, but there was a strain on the conversation, and soon both fell silent.

Theodore looked like he wanted to say more to Kitty but he could not think of anything else to say that would give him the excuse to linger at her side. Even Ginny could not assist him, so marked was Kitty’s desire to ignore him, and so he was left with nothing else to do but reluctantly make his bow and politely excuse himself.

Both girls watched his retreat back to the group of men where Draco was stationed—Ginny feeling just a little sorry that she had not been able to do more to help her quiet friend.

“Oh! I thought I was going to die!” exclaimed Kitty vehemently, her cheeks more rosy than ever. “You did not tell me that you had spoken to him!”

“He merely asked you how you were. You can’t tell me that you found something to be frightened of by that!”

“Well, no,” agreed Kitty, “But I can’t look him in the face without knowing that my parents want me to marry him, and that is enough to put me out of all countenance! Besides, he stares at one so. I cannot like him.”

“Perhaps he is admiring your beauty.”

Kitty shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing can prevail upon me to like such a man as him. You may be pleased with one of those men, but I am not. They are far too proud and serious for me.”

Ginny realised she would have to change her tactics.

She shrugged indifferently. “If you say so. I have found him to be very agreeable myself, but if you don’t care for him then I guess it doesn’t matter. It is a shame; from what I know he has never shown such marked attention to a woman before. It quite makes me pity him to think how hopeless his attentions are when he is so clearly in love with you.”

Kitty looked a little abashed, her eyes involuntarily glancing towards Theodore. “He cannot love me. He barely talks to me!”

Ginny laughed. “What difference does it make? You said yourself that nothing could prevail upon you to marry him. If he loves you or not it should not matter, right?”

“R-right,” Kitty agreed, though—much to Ginny’s satisfaction—her eyes continued to rest on Theodore a lot more frequently after that.

It was not to be expected that Ginny could spend the whole ball without once dancing with her husband. They were supposed to have led the first waltz, but with one thing or another, the two had managed to avoid the act. Now, however, it could not be postponed any further. Narcissa had left her post of greeting the guests and was determined to have the couple grace the floor together.

“I believe my mother is trying to hint us into dancing,” remarked Draco, eyeing his mother’s efforts with an amused smile.

Ginny looked up from pouring herself a glass of lemonade. “Is that so?” Her eyes twinkled merrily. “Shall we oblige your mother just this once, or do you dare to bring your mother’s wrath upon our heads?”

Draco laughed. “Truthfully, I do not dare. My mother can be very unpleasant.”

“Mm, yes. That must have been why you agreed to dance with me the first time.”

He looked a little confused, but then realisation dawned on his face and a faint flush stole to his cheeks. “I had hoped you had forgotten that night.”

“No, though in some ways I would like to.” She smiled teasingly and placed her cup back down on the table. “Your behaviour really was shocking that night, you know? I don’t deny that your words to me were true, but to say it to my face was not nice.”

“Had I known you as I do now, I don’t think I would have behaved in such a way, or said such things. Call it pride or prejudice—either way I was too conceited to see that I was offending you, and I’m sorry for it.”

An easy smile came to her lips. “There’s no need to apologise. I forgave you a long time ago, and in truth I have not thought of that night in a while. It was only the dance that put me in mind of it.”

He smiled and extended his hand out to her in a truce. “Well then allow me to make up for that disastrous first dance by accepting my hand for this dance.”

She took his hand, eyes dancing engagingly, and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor. His hand lightly clasped her waist, and slowly they started moving in the steps of a graceful waltz.

“I see you have become a more confident dancer,” he remarked after a moment of silence, a slightly teasing smile in his eyes.

Ginny couldn’t help but laugh. “I have had ample opportunity to practise since I first danced with you, but I have to admit that it depends mostly on who my partner is. Your advice to me that night has proven invaluable. I believe I have only stood on a few toes, and much of that was their own fault.”

He chuckled in appreciation. “Thank you. I will take the compliment for what it is worth.”

She grinned up at him, looking so radiant in her smiles that one man was inspired to say to his neighbour, Blaise Zabini: “Pretty little thing, isn’t she? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman look so lovely when she smiles.”

Blaise looked down his haughty nose at his neighbour. “What on earth are you talking about, Charles?”

Charles gestured with one perfectly manicured hand towards the flaming beauty dancing with Draco. “The new Mrs Malfoy, of course. Draco’s a lucky man to get such a woman as that. Just look at her!”

Blaise did.

He had seen Ginevra Weasley—now Malfoy—many times before, but he did have to admit that looking at her right now seemed like seeing her for the first time.

She had always been a rather plain girl to him and not worth his notice at all, but there was something about her in that moment that struck his roving eye. Her cheeks were flushed with a becoming pink, her kissable lips curved up into the most enchanting smile he had ever seen, and her chestnut eyes sparkled with a radiance that seemed too beautiful to be natural.

Blaise watched Draco lean down to whisper something in her ear. From this vantage point he was at free reign to see her eyes light up with true amusement, a peel of infectious laughter escaping her pretty lips.

Charles let out a small sigh. “Lucky dog. Seems like he won’t have to worry about any brats coming out through a side-door. The girl is clearly in love with him.”

“In love?” Blaise laughed softly. “I find that highly unlikely.”

Yet he was intrigued all the same. He had not forgotten the night he had encouraged Draco to get drunk and sleep with a barmaid, nor had he forgotten the reasons for that drunken stint. Was it possible his friend had really managed to tame the tigress, or were they merely putting on a show for tonight?

If it were the latter, he could not care less about the girl encircled in his friend’s arms, but if it were the former…

A slow smile curved his lips as his eyes followed Ginny’s progress. There was nothing more attractive to him than a woman who was off-limits. It awakened a sense of adventure inside him—an inexplicable desire to see if he could use his charm to transfer a woman’s affections to him, and at the same time steal the object of someone else’s affections.

To do such a thing with Ginevra Malfoy was unthinkable, and yet that was what made the hunt all the more exciting. She was as unattainable as she was alluring, and he could not help but wonder if he could succeed.

The hunter had been awoken, and with a devilish smile curling his lips, he slowly started formulating his plan.

Completely oblivious to the schemes forming around her, Ginny finished her dance with a smile and allowed Draco to lead her back to the punch table by her hand. She did not think that she had ever enjoyed a dance so immensely, and was just telling him that they would have to do it again before the night was out, when a thin man wearing an absurdly colourful waistcoat accosted them and demanded Draco’s assistance immediately.

Ginny had to repress a sigh of frustration. For once she was quite happy to spend the evening in the company of her husband, but it seemed that everyone was determined to take him away from her.

Draco seemed to be feeling much the same, judging by the reluctant edge in his eyes, but he excused himself nonetheless and followed the oddly dressed man; leaving Ginny standing alone and feeling just a little disappointed.

She was still watching his retreating figure when Blaise Zabini sauntered up to her with cat-like stealth.

“I see I find you all alone,” he remarked in a velvety voice, stopping close behind her.

Ginny jumped and turned her face, her eyes widening just a fraction when she saw who it was. Blaise had not spoken barely six words to her in her whole life, and yet here he was actually singling her out. It was somewhat confusing.

“So you do,” she replied cautiously, taking a wary step back.

He noticed her movement and let out a low laugh. Ginny was irritated to find the laugh incredibly attractive.

“I’m surprised,” he mused out loud, his voice almost a purr. “If I were lucky enough to be your husband, I would not be so eager to leave you.”

Ginny’s eyebrow rose slightly in faint disbelief. “Is that so? Strange, I never thought you one of my admirers.”

Blaise dismissed the accusation with another of his low laughs. “Perhaps I was not as open as others, but I believe it is impossible not to admire you.”

Both eyebrows rose in open scepticism. “You astonish me.”

He leaned lazily against the wall and smiled slightly. “You do not believe me, do you, Ginevra?”

“No,” stated Ginny frankly, “I don’t.”

He laughed again, really laughed this time, and once again Ginny was annoyed to find herself intrigued. There was a note of mockery in the laugh that piqued her and yet fascinated her as well.

“You are too perceptive for my games, I see. You’re right, I was not one of your admirers, but now I find myself quite your slave. I envy Draco for having discovered your beauty before I did. He has stolen a march on us all.”

Ginny didn’t know what to say to this sudden attack—her fencing skills being quite unequal to such a direct strike—and looked down in considerable confusion. She could feel her cheeks warming, and desperately tried to compose herself. It would not do to have Blaise Zabini think he could slip under her guard so easily, and she was still unable to decide whether he was telling the truth or not. It almost seemed like he was in earnest, yet there was still that faint note of mockery in his velvety voice.

“I wonder you dare say such things,” she said tightly, trying her best to keep her composure. “It is not proper.”

Blaise tilted her face up to his with one expert lift of his finger; forcing her to meet his dark, alluring eyes. “Do you always care about what’s proper?” he asked in his velvety voice, implying a lot more than a mild flirtation with the seductive smile that followed.

Ginny suddenly felt breathless. Never had a man been so forward with his attentions to her, and as Blaise Zabini was quite one of the handsomest men she had ever met, she found herself feeling a little too flustered to rebuff him as she should have.

His finger slowly trailed up her smooth cheek in a caress, but this proved too much for her—her natural modesty and feelings revolting at receiving such an intimate touch from a man she barely knew and was not her husband.

She was just preparing to give him a sharp set-down, when a cold voice interrupted them.

“Get your hands off my wife, Zabini!”

Immediately Blaise dropped his hand and straightened up to his full height. “Draco.”

Ginny, flushing instinctively at being caught in such a compromising situation, glanced warily at her husband and was surprised to see his grey eyes smouldering darkly in obvious anger. His mouth levelled grimly and his hands clenched tightly into fists.

She would have laughed if the situation had not been so awkward—for it really was ridiculous to see how angry he was over something so trifling—but, as it was, she found very little to laugh about in that moment. Her husband was looking murderous, and Blaise seemed actually delighted that Draco had intruded upon them.

Something told her that it would not be wise to let the two men talk—as fighting could only ensue—and giving a sharp, annoyed glare at Blaise for putting her into this mess, she walked over to Draco and took his arm in hers.

“Will you walk with me out on the balcony?” she asked, leading him firmly towards the double set of doors that joined with the balcony. “I would like some fresh air.”

Draco complied, though his eyes remained menacingly fixed on Blaise until he was dragged completely out of the room.

Ginny was relieved to see that they were the only ones on the balcony, and quickly let go of Draco’s arm to put more distance between them as soon as the doors were shut safely behind them. She felt troubled by the expression on his face—her innate sense of self-preservation telling her that he was no happier with her than he had been with her admirer.

“Do you mind telling me what just happened?” growled Draco, folding his arms grimly against his chest, his eyes still smouldering with uncontained anger.

Ginny had to repress a sigh. She knew that she would not have been able to escape the interrogation, but at least no one else was here to witness it.

“It was nothing. Blaise was just—”

“Blaise, is it?” interrupted Draco, looking even more furious. “Since when did you two get on first name terms?” 

“We’re not, but—”

“Oh really? Then how do you explain your proximity to him before?”

Ginny was startled at the sudden menace in his voice. She had known that he was angry, but really, this was getting ridiculous. How could he possibly think that there was anything between her and Blaise Zabini? Surely Draco must realise that she didn’t care for Blaise at all, even if he was handsome and had a nice laugh.

“If I didn’t know any better, Draco, I’d say you were jealous.”

His face contorted into a scowl. “Jealousy has nothing to do with this. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you make me look when you flirt with other men?”

“I was not flirting with him!” she retorted, feeling her anger rising.

“Do you take me for a fool? I saw you blushing! I saw the way he touched you! Anyone would have thought he was your husband with the way you two were behaving!”

“And so what if I did?” she fired back recklessly; too irritated with his pig-headedness to care whether she was acting wisely or not. “It’s not like you’ve ever shown me any attention in that way!”

His eyes glittered dangerously. “And so you’ll let any idiot touch you and flirt with you because I do not?”

Ginny flushed with anger and embarrassment, already regretting her hasty words. “Of course not!”

“Then why?” He closed in on her, stealing what little personal space she had left, and met her eyes squarely—his own still glittering with that fierce fury. “Why, with so little attempt at discretion, did you willingly allow Blaise Zabini to treat you like one of his flights of fancy? In front of my very eyes, I might add!”

She felt trapped, angry, breathless, and fascinated all in one. A part of her was furious with him for insinuating that she was actually going behind his back to encourage the attentions of Blaise Zabini, but despite that she could not help but be intrigued by the sudden passion he was showing. His eyes burned with jealousy—a jealousy inflamed at the thought of her being with another man.

Was it possible he cared for her more than he let on, or was he simply acting like the dog protecting its bone?

“Well?” he growled, moving even closer towards her. “I’m still waiting for your grand explanation.”

She sighed and folded her arms against his chest. “I didn’t let or encourage him to do anything. He just took it into his head to flirt with me, and if you weren’t so stupidly obstinate and blind, you would have realised that as soon as you saw us! Besides, need I remind you that it is you I am standing on the balcony with and not him—a fact that should have told you right from the start how little I care for him.”

“Oh.” Draco looked a little abashed at that. “I didn’t think about that.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Of course you didn’t. You were too busy getting worked up about nothing. Honestly, Draco, what kind of woman do you take me for?”

“Well how could I have known any better?” he fired back defensively. “You two looked pretty cosy from where I was standing.”

“Zabini is an arrogant flirt, and you’re even worse for believing that I encouraged his attentions! I can assure you that if you had not interrupted in that moment, I would have sent him on his way quite happily.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’,” replied Ginny contemptuously. “Now stop being so unreasonably cross with me, because I’m telling you now, Draco, I won’t have it!”

Draco, surprisingly, complied.

Ginny let out a sigh of relief, glad that was out of the way, and then being struck by a certain memory, let out an involuntarily chuckle.

“What can possibly be so funny?” asked Draco in stunned amazement.

“You should have seen your face! I thought you were going to murder him!”

Draco looked a little sheepish. “I think I might have if you hadn’t dragged me away. Blaise was never a favourite with me, and I have little wish to see him making up to my wife.”

Ginny’s humour died at that. “Is that all you were angry about? The fact that I’m your wife?”

Draco looked puzzled. “Why else would I be angry?”

“Oh!” exclaimed Ginny in a huff, abruptly pushing past him to stalk towards the doors. “I’m going inside!”

Draco watched her retreat in silence, his puzzlement only increasing. Females, he decided, were very odd.

Much to Draco’s dissatisfaction, he could not find Blaise again after that. He had wanted to hex the man, or maybe just satisfy his physical cravings and punch that smug face, but, as it was, he had been unable to do either. Blaise, it seemed, had decided to make a wise retreat, though whether he had given up on his scheme to seduce Ginny was an entirely different matter.

Ginny couldn’t have cared less either way. She was far too busy ignoring Draco, and would have continued her silent treatment of him—which savoured strongly of the sulks—if she had not caught a glance of a woman absurdly dressed in a very large purple turban.

She turned to him impulsively, exclaiming, “Goodness, Draco, look at that woman’s headdress! She looks positively ridiculous!”

He laughed, and with that magical sound, all enmity between them was forgotten—the rest of the night passing with perfect equanimity.

OOOO

After the great success of Narcissa’s party, Ginny was showered with invitations to balls, soirees and other such gatherings to amuse a young, married lady. However, not all of her time could be consumed by frivolous entertainment, and it was not long before Ginny realised that living at the Malfoys while married to their son was not something she particularly enjoyed.

Thankfully she had not been required to have an audience with Lucius Malfoy again—he having felt that he had done his part more than enough by speaking to her the first time and making that infernal toast. However, constantly being teased by Armande (who had somehow wormed out of Draco that the two of them had not slept together, and seemed to take a lamentable delight in calling the both of them chicken-hearted prudes) and putting up with Alexia’s spitefulness, was becoming rather trying. Even Narcissa, who Ginny normally felt some respect for, was beginning to grate on her nerves with her not-so-subtle enquiries on Ginny’s state of health.

There was no denying that enterprising woman seemed to be half expecting Ginny’s stomach to start ballooning out anytime soon. This, naturally, caused Ginny to feel some anxiety and rather irritably demand of her husband a few days later, while in the rather domestic and cosy setting of their bedroom, whether she was always going to be subjected to such treatment from his family.

Placing his book down, while sitting next to her in the bed, Draco levelled his grey eyes frankly on her, and remarked that he thought she should have known how it would be. He had always told her that his mother was a pushy, conniving woman, his cousin always had been a disgraceful rattle and it would be more remarkable if he didn’t tease her, and Alexia didn’t know how to be anything but spiteful and sulky.

Unimpressed, and not at all comforted by this speech, Ginny’s lips descended into a frown and she banged her head back against the very plump, silk tri-pillow resting behind her back, a scowl quickly forming on her face. “Well, I don’t like it! I swear if I have to stomach looking at Alexia’s sour face one more time, or listen to your mother question whether I’ve been feeling queasy at all lately, I’ll scream!”

Draco, feeling the full force of this argument from his own frustrations, could only sigh in empathy and wonder if perhaps it was time that they did find their own place. Merlin knew he was getting tired of Armande’s crude taunts, and Alexia was being a damned nuisance as always, trying to turn him against Ginny with malicious backbiting remarks. Even his own parents were driving him to his wits end with the constant nagging of ‘when will be the baby be coming?’

He always had intended to purchase his own place for he and Ginny to live in—for they could hardly be expected to live at Malfoy Manor with his parents for the rest of their lives—but he had not really given the matter much thought at all upon returning to the house. Now, however, he was well aware of the evils in staying at the Manor, and felt full appreciation of the benefits in escaping to the solace of a home where neither his parents nor his cousins occupied.

“I’ll tell you what,” he offered in an appeasing voice, “Tomorrow we’ll go look at some houses in London. I can’t say I know much of what is for sale, but if we can find something suitable for us to live in, then we can be out of the manor by the end of the week.”

Finding instant favour with this idea, Ginny rewarded him with a sunny smile, and, after much discussion on what sort of house would be preferable, went to bed later that night feeling much more optimistic on her future prospects and happiness.

The next morning Draco and Ginny disclosed their plan to Narcissa over the breakfast table. Armande seemed disappointed, complaining that he was never going to get any entertainment now, and Alexia merely wished them a very dry good luck. Narcissa herself raised one haughty eyebrow in surprise, but upon some quick, silent reflection, perceived that perhaps this would be more beneficial to the young couple than staying under the protection of her wing.

She was no fool and had gathered very early on that her son and his wife had not consummated their marriage on their wedding night. There was a decided lack of intimacy between the two, which suggested that very little progress had been made on that respect. Though they were not reluctant to spend time with each other, their communication and behaviour towards each other was friendly and respectful at the most, and nothing at all like the slightly awkward or lover-like behaviour one would expect from a couple who had been physically intimate with each other.

Narcissa had tried to give them a push by placing Binky at the cottage, and she had even taken great efforts to corner Ginny into a standstill by insinuating that she was expecting to see signs of her daughter-in-law’s pregnancy any day now (as it had been almost two weeks since the marriage night). But it was all to no avail. The two remained stubbornly apart and treated each other as two friends living together might, and Ginny continued to insist that she felt perfectly healthy, and indeed, looked far from succumbing to the woes of pregnancy any time soon.

Still, Narcissa was not one to give up. She could see the potential in their marriage and rather hoped that their breaking away to their own home would allow a chance for something deeper to blossom between them. Never would she let it be said that she had not had her son’s best interests at heart when she had recommended (and forced) him to marry Ginevra Weasley, and nor would she allow such silly scruples as they held to ruin her husband’s desire to hold his grandchild before he died.

By hook or by crook she was going to get that grandchild, and if it meant she had to loosen her grasp over the two, then so be it.

“Very well,” Narcissa responded smoothly, not allowing a trace of her thoughts to gloss over her porcelain face. “I will get Bootle to gather information on what suitable homes are available at the moment. I’m sure you have no wish to trail all over London looking at houses that are ill-fitted for your rank when you don’t need to, and he is the one who manages your affairs, after all.”

“Bootle?” Ginny queried in a puzzled voice.

“Our man of business,” Draco explained, and then turned his attention back to his silently scheming parent. “I never thought of going to Bootle, but you’re right that he will be the best to help us.”

Narcissa took a delicate sip of her tea. “I’m surprised you have not talked to him earlier, Draco,” she remarked in the air of one levelling a sharp critique. “Surely you must have realised by now that you need to sort out your finances to accommodate your wife? I hope you do not expect me to constantly remind you of your obligations. You are a married man now, and you must start to take responsibility for your own family.”

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking nothing like the man his mother had declared him to be, and everything like the small child he felt. “I forgot,” he confessed, staring down at his hands in shame.

“I thought you might have,” his merciless mother replied in a dry voice. She turned her cool blue eyes on Ginny, causing that young damsel to suck in a breath of foreboding. “You’ll soon learn, Ginevra, that my son has a bad habit in forgetting matters that do not primarily concern himself. I have tried to break him from this habit, but—” she rolled her eyes towards her son—“he is just like his father in that respect.”

The son in question looked up defensively at this remark, accompanied by Armande’s stifled sniggers, but Narcissa merely settled herself more comfortably on her chair, looking like a queen amongst peasants, and began to idly stir her tea with a silver spoon.

“In any case,” she continued in her cool, mellifluous voice, “Now that you have been reminded of your duties, you can make arrangements for Ginevra while you are with Bootle today.”

“Thank you, Mother,” replied her son in a bitterly polite voice. “I shall do just that.”

Feeling distinctly uncomfortably by the stiff argument started over her sake, and the tension that lingered on well afterwards, Ginny was more than glad to see breakfast come to an end and escape with Draco to make a visit to the mysterious Bootle.

His office was located in a grey building of little consequence, and the man himself was just as dull as his surroundings. He was of medium height, had sandy coloured hair, and blue eyes of no extraordinary colour. His clothes were chosen for neatness rather than fashion, and his voice leaned dangerously towards being monotone.

Despite this, Ginny favoured him with a friendly smile upon greeting and took a seat on one of the chairs resting near the wall; she would let Draco do the talking today.

“So, young Malfoy, your mother tells me you are looking for a house,” commented Bootle, while ruffling through some papers on his desk.

“Yes, and I’d might as well sort out Ginny’s situation while I’m here too. She needs an allowance, of course, and we need to set up a joint account at Gringotts…”

Draco rattled on in this style, and Ginny—growing bored—soon started amusing herself by drawing pictures on the dusty window with the tip of her finger.

“Then it is all sorted,” announced Bootle some minutes later, handing Draco a pile of papers. “These are the houses I would recommend you look at. The others would not be fit for a couple such as yourselves.”

“Thank you.” Draco glanced at Ginny, an amused smile coming to his lips when he spotted the drawings. “Nice pictures, though I don’t know if Bootle will be so thrilled with you now that his window is covered in flowers and stars.”

Ginny rubbed the dust off her finger, giving a sheepish smile to Bootle. “Sorry.”

“It’s quite all right, Mrs Malfoy.”

She gave another apologetic smile, nodded her head in goodbye, and then followed Draco out of the room.

Thus, armed with Bootle’s findings, Draco and Ginny set off with fresh and hopeful faces to look at their first house. Draco knocked at the door, which swung open before he even had time to pull his hand away, and both found themselves greeted by a plump woman with rosy cheeks and a broad, if not blinding, smile.

“Welcome, welcome,” she gushed, ushering the two young people in the door with her finely manicured hand. “Please take your time looking around, and if you have any questions about the house, do not hesitate to ask.”

Draco politely thanked the woman and then both he and Ginny started making their slow trek around the house. The woman followed them, making idle comments here and there about the special features the house contained, but she seemed more interested in gleaning whatever information she could about the young couple.

After a while Draco grew tired of her incessant questions and rather rudely (in Ginny’s opinion) told her that they did not need her services and could inspect the house quite capably on their own.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Ginny remarked with a frown, after the woman had left, though her eyes held a decided twinkle which belied the severity of her expression.

“Not nice but necessary,” he replied bluntly. “That woman was never going to leave us alone.”

Ginny only shrugged and walked forward into a room she guessed was a parlour. “You know, Draco; I don’t like this house at all.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Thank Merlin for that, because I’ve been wishing we didn’t come here from the moment we first stepped into the house. Come on, let’s go.”

She nodded and followed him back to the entrance hall, where they took their leave of the large woman, and left the house in considerable relief.

The next house was even less promising. Draco didn’t like the bathroom and said the wallpaper was outdated. Ginny thought the situation of the house was not at all to her tastes. Neither could imagine themselves living there.

Four more houses were visited, and four more rejected. If it wasn’t the fireplace that was ugly, it was the bedrooms being too small, or the home itself too ostentatious. Both wished for something comfortable, yet still befitting their rank. They did not want a gloomy mansion.

“Only two more houses left to visit,” sighed Draco, staring at the addresses on the last two slips of paper.

“Maybe one of those will be suitable,” said Ginny, ever the optimistic.

She proved to be right. The very next house they looked at was everything they could have hoped for. The rooms were all decent sized, the bathrooms nice, the fireplaces tastefully designed and large enough for flooing, and it even had a pretty garden, which Ginny was in raptures over.

Draco smiled at her. “I don’t think we need to look at the other house, do you?”

She only grinned up at him in reply. They had finally found their house.