The Not So Good Girl

She was sweating profusely. Above her, the Great Hall’s enchanted ceiling was cloudless, and the sun bore down on them as they took their N.E.W.T. It was Arithmancy, and it was her last exam for the term, so she found it hard to focus—not only because of the promise of freedom after this, but because of the level of difficulty at completing an exam when the grounds outside promised a cool breeze.

Virginie looked around. Next to her, Hermione was scribbling furiously, also sweating. Virginie returned quickly to her paper; mostly, the exam had gone well, and she was glad she’d put in all those long hours of studying.

After she’d finished, she checked all her answers and, satisfied, leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She drifted off to sleep, waking only when the ancient old witch who was proctoring the exam called time.

“Thank God,” she breathed to Hermione as they left. “All finished.”

“It’s a bit bittersweet, though, isn’t it?” she said. “I’m really going to miss Hogwarts.”

“Definitely,” Virginie replied as they opened the giant front doors and went out to the grounds. “In two weeks’ time, we’ll be in the real world.”

She’d gotten the job as Ambassador, which had pleased her father immensely. He promised he’d done nothing to help her get the job, but she still wondered. Though she, too, was sad to leave Hogwarts, she was excited to begin her career and to begin taking Healer courses in September.

Harry and Ron were continuing on to become Aurors, while Hermione, Draco, and herself were heading straight to work. Hermione was starting as a Wizard, Witch, and Magical Creature Rights Representative in the same department as Virginie—International Magical Cooperation. Her job title had more characters than her wedding invitations. Draco would be working alongside his father, but only, as he frequently said, until he found something better.

“What time are we leaving?” Hermione asked. She, Ron, Harry, Draco, and Virginie were all going to see Draco and Virginie’s new home, which had just been finished two days ago, that night.

“As soon as we can,” she replied, then giggled. “We’ve all been putting so many charms and things on the home, but Lucius and Narcissa don’t know about some of them…no one but Draco and I can open the doors to the home unless we lift the charms to allow others to do so. Pity they’ve let such a clever witch marry their precious son.”

Hermione giggled nervously. “So we won’t have to worry about them coming?”

“No,” Virginie said firmly. “And you know you are welcome in my home anytime. I’ve also put a charm on the windows so that they can’t look in…and if Muggles happen to look in, all they see are Draco and myself in normal clothing watching that television thing.”

“Wow,” Hermione said. “Come to our home when we’ve finally got one.”

“I will.”

They met the rest of their friends under a giant weeping willow tree by the lake. Harry, Ron, and Draco had all finished their exams the day before and had been enjoying the time off all day by first playing a friendly game of Quidditch and then lounging lazily under the tree.

The boys stood as they approached, and put his arm around Hermione’s waist and asked how the exam went, and Draco did the same.

“Better than I expected,” she replied.

“Well that’s good. …Are you ready to show them the house?”

“Yes. Are we all ready to go?”

They nodded and set off toward the front gates so that they could Apparate. Soon they arrived in the country and found themselves outside the gates of a lovely two-story Tudor styled home. They entered the wrought iron gates that had a large “M” down the center and started up the path to the front door.

Hermione was extremely impressed by the charm Virginie had put on the front door, and Draco embarrassed her by telling everyone how wonderful she was and giving her a burning look.

“Here we are,” Virginie said simply, leading them into a small entryway that held a small table and a grandfather clock. There was a staircase leading up on the left and three different doorways.

She locked the front door and turned to the right, opening French doors and leading them into the parlor, which held a grand piano and four oversized armchairs.

“Bit smaller than Mum and Dad’s,” Draco said, understating it quite a bit, “But we like it smaller.”

“It’s lovely,” Hermione said, running her fingers along the piano.

The parlor adjoined the dining room, which was much smaller and cozier than Lucius and Narcissa’s. Virginie opened another (smaller) French door and led them into the large kitchen.

“Oh, it’s lovely!” Hermione said, examining all the cupboards and counters.

After they’d shown them the rest of the house (next to the kitchen was a large family room, and upstairs were four bedrooms), they adjourned to the enormous sunroom off the kitchen.

“I love it,” Hermione said as soon as they’d sat down. “I know Lucius and Narcissa thought it was too small, but it’s lovely.”

Harry and Ron nodded.

“Do you want to stay for lunch, or should we go back to Hogwarts?” Virginie asked.

“Let’s stay!” Hermione said eagerly, and everyone else heartily agreed.

The boys helped peel potatoes while the girls began cooking a giant pot roast. Their duty done, Ron, Harry, and Draco went out back so that Draco could show them the rest of the grounds. Virginie and Hermione busied themselves, cooking the potatoes, making a soup, and beginning to make a large apple tart for pudding. The kitchen seemed happy to finally be used, and the cooking went extremely well. Virginie felt elated at finally being in her own home, her own kitchen. She’d been aching to cook for Draco for ages, and she was glad she finally had a chance.

They sat down to eat shortly after—French onion soup with loads of cheese on top, a large salad, pot roast, mashed potatoes, gravy, and for dessert, the apple tart with ice cream. They lingered at the dinner table for over two hours, until Ron pushed back his chair and groaned.

“Great lunch, girls,” Draco said, leaning over to kiss Virginie. “I won’t be able to move the rest of the night, but still…”

“Thanks,” they said. Hermione looked at the clock on the wall.

“We’d better get back to Hogwarts!” she exclaimed. “It’s nearly four…I promised Professor McGonagall I would help grade the first years’ exams at five this evening.”

Grudgingly, they levitated all the empty dishes into the kitchen, where they began washing themselves in the sink. Hermione, Ron, and Harry left soon after, apologizing for not staying to help set things back in order and lock up, but it was fine with Draco and Virginie. They watched them each Apparate once outside the gate, and they closed the front door once more.

Virginie returned to the kitchen, moving her wand lazily to make the dishes dry and put themselves away. Draco came up behind her and began kissing her neck.

“You’re wonderful,” he said.

She giggled in response as he tickled the back of her neck with his kisses. They left the clean kitchen and found themselves heading up to the master bedroom.

“A great way to end my exams,” she laughed as she pulled off her shirt.

Draco gave her his infamous burning gaze and pushed her toward the bed. They hadn’t been together in what felt like ages—probably close to three weeks—and they hungrily ripped each other’s clothes off. Virginie straddled Draco on the bed.

“I thought this bed was only for marital bliss,” she joked, looking down at Draco’s expectant face.

“Shut up and fuck me already,” he groaned.

She willingly obeyed, and they both came loud and hard. She was glad she was finally under her own roof, where she could do whatever she wanted and didn’t have to worry about getting into trouble or disturbing anyone.

“God, I can’t wait ’til we’re here for good,” Draco said after, kissing her right shoulder.

“I know,” she replied, turning toward him and stroking his face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said. “And in two months, I’m going to marry you.”

Her eyes welled with tears and she hugged him.

“Don’t cry, I won’t be that bad of a husband,” he joked, holding her tight.

“Shut up, I’m crying because you’re hopelessly wonderful,” she sobbed into his chest. He kissed the top of her head. As her sobs subsided, she drifted back to sleep and didn’t wake until the next morning, when they returned to Hogwarts and were greeted by a very harassed-looking Professor McGonagall.

“De Gaulle,” a voice snapped, making her twitch. She looked up to find Apollo, her boss, standing above her. “What are you lazing about for? You’re due to meet Madame Maxime in ten minutes. We have to leave soon to get to the lobby.”

“Sorry,” she replied, though she had been working on a particularly important letter to one of the governesses of France.

Work had been going smoothly, and it helped that Hermione was in the cubicle next to her, her desk littered with countless memos. Hermione daily received a stack of mail the size of her desk, but she managed to get most of it finished before lunchtime, at which time she left to make her calls to clients. Virginie, on the other hand, spent hours writing a single letter, or moving about the building to translate or greet incoming guests. She had already made one trip to Paris and another to Monaco. She’d had to postpone her visit to Marseilles due to her wedding, which was in just three days.

Today Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons was arriving, and she had particularly requested Virginie, one of her ex-pupils, to be present. Maxime was to meet with the Wizengamot to discuss plans for increased security at Beauxbatons, but because the school was so small and exclusive, she needed extra support—hence why she’d come to Britain. Virginie was extremely excited and giddy to see her old headmistress again.

Three inter-office memos soared above Virginie’s head and over to Hermione’s desk. She heard Hermione groan loudly as she read the first.

“Bye, Hermione,” she said, leaning over the top of the cubicle. “I shan’t be back; I’m going home after we fix this business with Maxime.”

“All right,” Hermione said absentmindedly, reading the second memo. “Do you need help doing anything tonight?”

“No, the coordinator is taking care of the wedding business. Tomorrow, though, I may need you to fetch some things from the market—my relatives are flying in from France and I shan’t have time to get anything.”

“All right. Say hi to Draco for me.”

“I will. Take care,” she said, hoisting her bag over her shoulder, and, with a wave of her wand, clearing her desk for the day.

She met Apollo at the door—he looked very anxious—and they took the elevator to the lobby.

“Lucky you have the next two days off,” Apollo scowled. “I definitely don’t want to meet those wretches from Transylvania. Always scowling, those lot. Gives me the creeps.”

“So sorry I took two days off for my wedding,” she retorted. “And, well, would you rather be at home, having Narcissa Malfoy fretting about you? I think not,” she finished for him.

“Think she’ll come along for the honeymoon?” he teased.

“Don’t joke about such a thing,” she snapped jokingly. “She just so—” She stopped mid-sentence and clutched her stomach.

“Are you all right?” Apollo asked. “Pre-wedding jitters maybe?”

“Er…let me out!” she exclaimed. “I need the restroom.”

He hastily stopped the elevator at the next floor and she bolted for the loos. She vomited for what felt like hours and finally emerged looking, she knew, very pale.

“You okay? We’re going to be late,” he said, hurrying her back to the elevator.

“I feel faint.”

“Maybe you have the flu. Perhaps you ought to just go home…I can handle this.”

“No…no, Maxime will be annoyed if I’ve skived off.”

“Virginie, you’re not skiving, you’re ill,” he insisted, as the elevator stopped at the lobby and they exited and moved toward the giant fountain.

“I’m not,” she said. “I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Suit yourself,” he said. “Just don’t throw up all over Maxime, please, I beg you. This is our job.”

They stood expectantly, while several important-looking witches and wizards dashed around them. Virginie scanned the itineraries she had for Madame Maxime but found herself feeling nauseous once more.

“Sorry,” she said to Apollo, rushing into the loo next to the fountain.

“Lucky she’s late,” he grumbled when she’d returned, handing back the papers she’d thrown him in her rush to get to the restroom.

She apologized once more, told him she was sure it was just a virus, and continued scanning Maxime’s papers. Someone walked by and pinched her shoulder. She resisted the urge to tell the person off, for she was at work, when she saw it was Draco.

“Oh—hello,” she said stupidly.

“What is wrong?” he gasped, seeing how pale she looked.

“She’s been retching all morning,” Apollo said, leaning toward Draco, as if trying to inform him without Virginie hearing.

“What? Go home,” he commanded.

“Draco, no, Maxime will be here any minute, and after I lead her to the Wizengamot I’ll go, I promise,” she said. He looked very unconvinced. “I was supposed to eat lunch with her, but I won’t, all right? I’m going to just go home after I take her there.”

He looked at Apollo, who shook his head. “Make sure she goes home,” he said to him. “I have to get upstairs. They’re having a trial soon.” He kissed her cheek and was gone.

Maxime finally arrived, and she began briefing her, in very fast French, what was to happen, handing her itineraries as they walked. She was starting to feel nauseated once more, but she suppressed it and tried to make Maxime feel comfortable. Soon, though, she felt dizzy, and her legs gave out.

She was on the floor and couldn’t open her eyes, but she could hear gasping and voices talking above her…she could hear snippets of conversation…

“New ambassador to France…Draco Malfoy….Wedding in 72 hours…Call Etienne, he’s presiding in the dungeon…Call Draco….She looks so pale…”

She tried to groan and sit up but found that no sound came from her mouth and she had not moved at all. What was going on? She felt fine.

A few minutes later, she heard her father’s voice above her, speaking quickly to Apollo.

“Just collapsed, sir. She’d been sick twice in the loos. I don’t know what’s happened to her.”

Then Draco’s voice: “She should have gone home. Why doesn’t she listen? Does anyone know what’s happened to her?”

She felt herself being lifted and carried, but without any idea where she was going. Draco was holding her hand tightly and her father was telling someone to notify her mother to come to St. Mungo’s.

When she woke, the bewitched windows in her room showed it was dark outside. Draco was sitting bedside, but her parents were not in the room.

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed, hugging her. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“What happened?” she asked groggily. “Is Maxime angry? Oh, I must write her. Get me parchment.”

“Don’t worry about Maxime,” he snapped. “Apollo took over, it’s fine. You were dehydrated from being so ill that you fainted.”

“I should have listened to you,” she said quickly.

“Yes, you should have,” he said coldly, glaring at her. “You’re stressed out from this wedding. Lucky you can just relax tomorrow. I’ve taken off work. I’ll take care of everything at home tomorrow, including your relatives.”

“Thank you,” she said, squeezing his hand. He grinned very widely.

“What?” she asked. “Why are you smiling so much?”

“Well, they found out why you were sick,” he said. “Why you were retching so much.”

“Why? And why does it make you smile?”

“We’re going to have a baby,” he said, grinning broadly.

“What?”

“You’re pregnant.”

“No I’m not!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, you are,” he replied.

“Am not!”

“Are so!”

“How?”

“Well, when a man and a woman really love each other…,” he began.

“Don’t mock me,” she snapped, and then she lowered her voice. “I’ve been performing the birth control spell afterward, every time. I’ve done it right every time!”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, you know….every time you’ve done it, you’ve always held my hand while saying the incantation…and….that time….that first time we were at the house, after Hermione had left…you didn’t do it,” he said dumbly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she roared, sitting up in bed.

“Shhhhh,” he whispered. “Virginie, I forgot, too, okay? We don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

“We do when it concerns children!” she screamed. “We do when it concerns our FUTURE!”

“Lower your voice,” he snapped. “Our parents are outside in the lobby.”

“Do they know?” she whispered.

“No. The nurses and the Healer who examined you made them leave before they told me.”

She sighed with relief, then sank into her pillows.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I’m thinking we’re covering this up. Tell everyone it happened on the honeymoon. I had wanted to be married a few years at least before this happened. But…what’s done is done.”

He nodded. “Well….I think it’s excellent.”

“You would,” she snapped.

“Why are you yelling?” he asked.

“You would think it’s excellent, because you aren’t the one who’s going to end up in St. Mungo’s three more times or risk losing her job because of pregnancy or lose her figure for the sake of the baby…I’m not ready for this,” she finished.

“You’re exactly eight weeks pregnant.”

She managed a small smile. “I guess this could work. You know our baby is going to be the most gorgeous creature in the entire world.”

“I know,” he said, crawling into the hospital bed to wrap his arms around her. “I love you. I’ll love you no matter how fat and ugly the baby makes you.”

She let out a cross between a laugh and a sob. “Thanks.”

He laughed and kissed her forehead. “Oh come on, you’ll always be gorgeous.”

She hugged him tightly until a Healer came in to check on her and told him to climb out before he crushed her.