The Not So Good Girl

They returned to Hogwarts on a cold Saturday afternoon, and Virginie gave Draco a small kiss before returning to her room in Ravenclaw. Once in the safety of her dormitory, she threw herself on her four poster bed and began to sob.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love Draco—it was, in fact, the opposite. She loved him so much that she found it difficult to break away from him. His family was atrocious, and her family did not approve; they had, in fact, sent her an owl at the Malfoys’ the next morning (a Howler would have obviously given their feelings away). The gist of the letter said that they were very disapproving and also told her that she would find it very hard to break from the Malfoy family once involved with them—this she had known from the moment she slipped the bracelet on her wrist.

The bracelet—she had to tell Hermione about all this, but how? She sat up in bed, wiped her eyes, and looked at the bracelet sparkling so innocently on her wrist. She reached down to undo the clasp, but as she turned the bracelet over and over, she found that it had disappeared since she had put it on. She attempted to pull it over her wrist, but it grew smaller and smaller, until finally it began to squeeze her hand. Vanishing, Breaking, and Obliviating spells didn’t work, either. Angry and frantic, she ran from the dormitories and down to the common room, looking for a familiar face.

“Luna,” she said. “Could you do me a favor?”

Luna peered up at her. “Have you been crying?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point. Could you possibly go to the Head Boy and Girl’s Suite and ask Hermione if she could come down here, to the Ravenclaw common room?”

Luna stared for a second, then nodded. “Will you watch my chair?” she asked, leaving a heap of magazines beside it. “People always take my things.”

“Sure,” Virginie sighed gratefully. “Thank you so much, Luna.”

Luna beamed and exited the portrait hole. It took about ten minutes before she’d returned with Hermione. They approached the chair by the window where Virginie sat, but she didn’t even notice them: she was absentmindedly gazing out of the window and toying with the bracelet.

“Er…Virginie?” Hermione asked, sounding worried. “You okay?”

Virginie nodded, and finally looked up at Hermione. “Just…uhm…come upstairs with me, okay? I have a lot to tell you.”

Hermione nodded resignedly, as if she knew this had been coming, and they walked up the stairs while Luna returned to her stack of magazines by the window.

“Spill,” Hermione instructed after they’d drawn the curtains around the bed and put a Soundproofing charm around it.

“They’re awful,” Virginie sobbed, falling forward so that her head was at Hermione’s knees.

“Er…maybe a little more detail?”

Virginie shoved her right hand upward at Hermione.

“Oh, what a pretty bracelet. It’s from them, I expect, it’s emerald and silver, Slytherin colors…”

“I can’t take it off.”

She dropped Virginie’s hand. “What?”

“I. Can’t. Take. It. Off,” she repeated. “I’ve tried every charm I could think of. They’ve put some sort of spell on it so that I can’t take it off. And it tells them if I’ve spoken ill against the family to someone I’m not supposed to, someone important or something.”

Hermione gasped.

“And Narcissa and Lucius are awful. They act all nice, but then they lecture me about keeping the dignity of the family and how I shouldn’t work when Draco and I get married—oh, by the way, apparently we’re getting married now, we’re not just a casual couple, according to his parents—and THEN Narcissa has the nerve to try to watch me in the shower and tell me that I have it easy because Lucius’s parents watched them have sex for the very first time as husband and wife.

“Oh and that’s not all. I was next to Draco at the Halloween party like I was a fucking member of the family. They introduced me to everyone they know, and most of the men, by the way, hit on me and told Draco ‘Good job,’ like I was a prize that he’d won.

“And Draco and I went on a walk in the country and he told me that his family are Dark Wizards and he doesn’t mind you but his parents will and you can’t come to our wedding—which, hello, I didn’t know there was to be a wedding between the two of us—but you aren’t to come and none of my friends are, either. I just don’t understand, Hermione. I don’t understand why I put up with this. It’s just that I love him so much. He really isn’t like his parents at all, but why do I stay?”

She heaved a great sigh and began sobbing again. Hermione rubbed her back and looked like she was in deep thought, then she sank down next to Virginie on the bed.

“He admitted they were Dark wizards?” she whispered.

Virginie nodded, and it was Hermione’s turn to sigh.

“I understand why you stay,” she said finally, after several minutes.

“Could you explain it to me?” Virginie asked snottily, dabbing her eyes.

“Well, it’s simple: you do love him, and I know for a fact he loves you. And you think that he’s not going to do anything bad because he knows you’ll disapprove. This is somewhat true, I suppose, as he has improved quite a lot in the past few months. His parents technically can disapprove of me and all your friends as much as they want, but they want to protect their family name, so they’re going to take every attempt to keep any of their actions concealed; that is, I doubt they’d involve you in anything, anyway, so you won’t have much to hide.

“And who cares if I can’t come to the wedding? We’ll throw our own secret party afterward,” she said, trying to convince Virginie it was all right. “You’re a great friend, Virginie. I know you’re torn right now, but Draco does love you…trust me, he does…and he’s not going to risk anything to lose you. The only thing that really bothers me about your visit is the bracelet,” she admitted. “It’s rather scary, being bound to a family that isn’t technically yours.”

“I know,” Virginie said stuffily. “Think they might have told me that before making me put it on.”

“It is for their own protection, though,” Hermione replied thoughtfully. “I wonder what kind of charm it is; it must be a good one, if you can’t break it. I’ve been thinking since you told me and I can’t think of anything else to try. It has to be some sort of Dark Magic or perhaps an ancient form of family magic that I’m not familiar with. It’s genius, really.”

“Glad you like it,” Virginie snapped. “It’s not clamped to your wrist for life.”

“Makes you wonder what will be done to the conjugal bed,” Hermione joked.

Virginie squeaked, and Hermione laughed. “I was just kidding,” she said.

“We had sex twice the first night and three times the second…my room was right above theirs. If they don’t know that we’ve already shared the conjugal bed, they’re out of their minds,” Virginie said, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. She was beginning to feel better—Hermione always knew how to make her feel better.

“How do you know Draco loves me so much?” she asked suddenly. “You said that two or three times.”

“Because,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “I always thought that he’d have tons of girls over, or at least Pansy Parkinson, when we became the Heads…but he never brought anyone over. And he was always asking me—” she paused and straightened herself up, looking haughty—“ ‘When is that French girl coming ’round?’ ‘Are you sure she can’t come today?’” she mimed.

“He did not.”

“He did. Every day. And he definitely knew who you were, but he didn’t want to give it away, even though he obviously did. That’s part of the reason I asked you to stay when I left.”

“So you’re the one responsible for me being utterly miserable in love,” Virginie said, sticking her tongue out.

“Everyone’s miserable in love,” Hermione said wisely. “That’s why it’s love. Give and take.”

Virginie turned over on her back and looked up at the ceiling. “I do love him, the arrogant prat,” she said.

“So are you coming to the Suite or not?” Hermione asked.

She thought for a moment. “No…no, I think I want to sleep in my own bed tonight, while I still can.”

Hermione nodded, hugged her, and left soundlessly through the door.

Christmas was nearing, and instead of going home, where she knew there would be a fight, she instead decided to spend the holidays with the Grangers. She had never been at a Muggle household before, and she was anxious to see how Hermione, and all the other Muggles, lived without magic.

“Tell your parents I’m going home to my parents,” she snapped when Draco asked her—actually, it seemed like he was accusing her of wrongdoing—where she was planning to go for Christmas.

“They want to see you,” he said.

“Too bad,” she growled. “I’m going to Hermione’s and that’s it.”

He pouted. “Fine. But you have to Apparate and come see me once a week or so.”

“You just want me to come because you want to have sex with me.”

“No!” he exclaimed adamantly. “I want to see you, simple as that.”

“I’ll think about it,” she replied, packing things into his trunk for him. “Who says I don’t need a break from you?”

“You love me. You can’t be away from me,” he smirked.

“Don’t act like that, Draco,” she snapped. “You’ll make me want to try to stay away from you to prove I can do it.”

He stuck his tongue out at her.

“You know you’re rather lazy, Draco,” she said, surveying the packing she’d done without his help. “I hope you don’t expect this from me when we’re married.”

“Of course not,” he said, levitating the trunk off the bed and to the floor, where it joined the other one. “We’ll have servants, of course.”

Rolling her eyes, she smoothed the sheets where the trunk had been and gave Draco a small kiss, promising to visit him when she could possibly find a spare moment.