Unlikely Alliances

Chapter 3
Lucius
She finally came into the library around dinnertime.

“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked.

“If you’d like to eat, go ahead,” I said, not looking up.

“Actually I was thinking I wanted to go out for something,” she said. I looked at her.

“I’m not stopping you.”

Weasley walked over to the shelves and ran her finger along a few leather spines, her eyes skimming the titles. She stopped and brought her attention back to me.

“In a way, you are,” she said. “I’m not supposed to leave you here alone.”

“Ah.” I closed my book. “Then where are we going?”

She led me to the receiving room and I immediately noticed a new fixture: there was a small receptacle on the wall that she spoke into.

“What does that do?” I asked.

“It allows us to Apparate out,” she said. Then she grabbed my wrist, and before I could protest shenappnapped something around it. “And this keeps you from going off on your own.”

I said nothing, but hoped my expression would communicate my disgust. I gripped my cane more tightly and we Disapparated.

We stood in Diagon Alley a moment later, and I followed her down the cobblestones. She chose a little bistro that was shockingly inexpensive and surprisingly good.

“We’re due at work at nine for a staff meeting,” she said, not meeting my eye.

“Good. I can learn my new job.”

“And meome ome coworkers.” She chuckled softly. “Watch out for Monroe. You’ve had fair warning.”

“Who’s Monroe?”

“He’s a field agent, and part Veela. And he likes men. Tall, blond men.”

I picked up my glass and mulled over it for a moment.

“Is he handsome?”

“Devastatingly so,” she said, looking at me sidelong. “Don’t tell me you’re…”

“No, no. My preference has always been a bit of skirt.” I let my gaze go far off. “Although…”

She stared openly at me, eyes wide.

“My dear, I grew up in the Seventies,” I said. “You were expected to experiment a bit.” I didn’t elaborate that I had experimented rather more than a bit.

Ginny
The next morning we traveled to the Ministry in silence. We walked into the conference room at five to nine. I gestured at a chair and Malfoy sat easily, comfortably, like a man at home wherever he went. It was an enviable quality.

The rest of the department--or at least those who attended staff meetings--had already taken seats around the conference table. Not all of them were human, and I watched Malfoy’s cool blue eyes scan the room. Besides our receptionist, a remarkably rational half-giant fellow by the name of Virgil, we had several other sentient non-humans and part-humans on the payroll. Our centaur, Leander, had settled his equine half into a crouched position that hardly looked comfortable, though he had assured me it was. Max was also half giant, Emory was an unusually tall House Elf, Galahad was one-quarter Veela, and our eccentric Animagus, Doricles, had chosen to come to the meeting as a very large tomcat. He was better looking as a cat anyway. Besides this menagerie of agents there were ten wizards and witches, one Squib, and one ghost. An additional dozen or so of our agents would only come to meetings under serious duress, and since most of them were never in the office I guessed Harry and X didn’t think it terribly important to introduce them to Malfoy.

X and Harry sat down at the head of the table. Harry smiled at me, though those eerily glowing green eyes still made me shiver. Poppy had told me that it was some kind of residue from the Killing Curse that had destroyed Voldemort, and that it might never wear off. X was wearing his ‘office’ face, though he’d altered the hair slightly. He was a Metamorphmagus, which came in handy for a covert operative. No one knew how old he was, though I’m sure if I had been cleared to read his file it would say. The face he wore to work was about thirty-five or forty.

“All right, now that everyone is here, let’s get to business.” He gestured at Malfoy, and all heads turned. “Those of you that follow the news know already that we have a new Dark Arts expert. The rest of you probably recognize Mister Lucius Malfoy, the newest addition to our team. Since he’s new, I’d like to go around the table and have everyone give their name and job title.”

We went around the room, and I could see Malfoy making mental notes. He surprised me later by remembering every one of those names, and even managed to say a few that I had only ever heard pronounced correctly by the people who went by them. If he was as good with other knowledge as he was with names, I could imagine him being exceptionally valuable.

Lucius
I was rather surprised by the reaction of the assembled persons; that is to say there was no reaction. They all seemed perfectly all right with the presence of a convicted murderer in their midst. Then again, one of the undeniable facts about the Department of Mysteries has always been that they occasionally do things that are very illegal. So these agents were probably the best-equipped group of people in the Ministry to accept me into their fold.

Three of them were called only by letters. I guessed, and guessed correctly, that they were Unspeakables. The rest of that elite and shadowy group could hardly be expected to show up for something as mundane as a staff meeting.

“Mister Malfoy will be at your disposal for any information regarding the Dark Arts and related particulars. It will be his job to research anything he doesn’t know off-hand and come up with a timely and thorough answer. However, I have to warn you that Harry and I aren’t going to look kindly on any of you using him as a dumping ground for questions that you haven’t bothered to check on at least cursorily. He won’t write reports for you and he isn’t at your beck and call.”

Since this was my first briefing on my job description, I paid careful attention. It relieved me to hear that I was not to become the slave of these upstart field agents. I was to be accorded at least a modicum of respect, then. I settled back in my chair with my coffee and kept my silence as they moved on down the agenda.

Afterwards, Weasley waited for me.

“Come on, I’ll show you your office.”

“Office?”

“Of course.” I followed her down the hallway, and when we reached the final branch she pointed.

“Third door on your left,” she said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some reports to file.” I nodded and she left.

I looked back as I reached the office door; she had disappeared around the corner. The door had an empty plaque, but as I put my hand on the knob and turned, letters resolved.

Lucius Malfoy
Dark Arts

I opened the door and stepped inside. The office was bare, and not very large, but it was definitely an improvement over a cell in the dungeons at Azkaban. It had a pair of the Ministry’s artificial windows and a reasonably sizeable desk. Best of all, it contained rows of bookshelves. I checked the corner of the bookcase and found that it was an Abecedarian; iuld uld automatically sort anything I put into it. The desk had a standard issue blotter, in and out boxes, quills, and the usual accoutrements of a humdrum Ministry office. The one I’d had before was significantly nicer, but I could hardly afford to be picky. I set my cane against the door frame and sat down in the chair. It creaked threateningly.

I felt overcome by a sudden weariness. I sat and stared sightlessly at the blotter for several minutes and was only startled out of my reverie by a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened and I looked up to see that Monroe fellow. He had that same cheeky smile on his face and a sheaf of papers in his hand.

“Can I help you?” I asked. His smile seemed to widen.

“You’re hardly here five minutes and I’ve got a question,” he said apologetically. He set the packet of papers down on my desk and settled himself on the corner. I really had to get a chair in there, I thought irritably. He opened the folder and leaned over it to point to a page. His hair trailed in front of his eyes, and he tucked it back demurely.

It was really kind of sickening, but I suppose were I a less discerning man I might have succumbed to his charms. I looked at where his fingers lay and skimmed the paragraph.

“I’m not entirely certain what to make of this,” he said, tapping a line. It read: preliminary reports indicate that the culprit may be what local people call a ‘skerling’. They have requested Ministry assistance.

“Nothing in any of our libraries says anything about it. Is it an animal?”

I pursed my lips, rubbing my chin as I cudgeled my brain. “It’s not an animal, it’s a thing. They’re very nasty indeed, if you don’t know to dto deal with theentientient, but not living. You’ll want to contain it physically. There’s no getting rid of them. Eventually they fade away, their magic spent, if they have nothing to feed on.” I did not mention to him that the Death Eaters had set them loose on unsuspecting towns, where they fed from the destruction they caused, and then we came through and occupied the area. It did not seem necessary to elaborate how I knew what they were or how to deal with them.

He nodded and pushed the papers out of the way.

“Mister Malfoy, it’s a real honor to get to work with you.” He leaned on his elbows, alarmingly close. I leaned back, as far from him as I could go. “A wizard of your refinement…”

“Now that I have answered your question, perhaps you should go back to your work,” I suggested. He smiled.

“Oh, don’t be so stuffy, Lucius,” he murmured, touching my collar with the tip of one finger and trailing his way down my chest.

“Galahad, leave Malfoy alone.”

He turned and I could see Potter standing in the doorway. Monroe pouted and picked up his folder. “Just getting to know him a little better, that’s all,” he said, leaving the office.

Potter leaned against the doorframe and sighed. “We’ve all had to endure it. It’s not really his fault, you know, being part Veela and all. The men are a bit…oversexed.” He smiled slightly. “Unless of course that’s what you’re into.”

“Regardless of what I am ‘into,’ Mister Potter, I am not overly fond of being accosted by my coworkers.”

He shrugged and dropped a folder onto my desk.

“Your first assignment,” he said. I pulled it toward me and he left.

I ate lunch in the Ministry cafeteria, where I heard more than a bit of whispering that seemed to be about me. A number of people would not meet my glance. Other than that the workday was uneventful, and I met Weasley at the doors as planned.

“Are we eatat hat home tonight?” I asked.

“If you like,” she said quietly.

After spending some time reading in the library, I headed upstairs to bed. Weasley was sitting in the little alcove between our rooms with a book.

“You could have come down to the library,” I said. “The light is better.”

She looked up and I swear she blushed. Then she glanced at the clock.

“Oh, it’s late!” She stood. I stepped in a little closer and took the book from her hand.

“Montaigne?” I asked, looking at the cover. “Isn’t that a bit heavy for pleasure reading?”

She reached out to take it from me, but I’d held it back so she had to lean. I leaned in myself, but she wasn’t fooled.

“Don’t touch me, Malfoy,” she said, seizing the book from my hand. I was too slow in releasing her, and she struck me across the cheek. Reeling in surprise, I snapped my head back just in time to see her disappear into the guest room. I was suddenly of two minds: part of me growled ooh, a challenge, while the other said let her be. I listened to the second, more rational voice, and went to bed.

The next morning, Saturday, I awoke early and got dressed. I knocked gingerly on the door to her room.

“What?” she asked sleepily.

“I need to go into town,” I said. “Unless you want to order takeout from now on.”

She opened the door jerkily and froze.

“What are you wearing?” she asked.

I looked down at the black sweater and jeans I had put on. Athletic shoes completed the outfit.

“I can’t very well go grocery shopping in formal robes, can I?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. She blinked.

“Oh. I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.” closclosed the door.

As promised, in fifteen minutes we were out the door. I led her down to the garage and opened the doors to reveal another little Muggle artifact in the house: my car, gleaming black and conspicuously new.

“Even Muggle-haters have to venture into their world once in a while,” I said, opening the passenger door for her. She got in and I walked around to the other side.

We drove for several miles before Weasley spoke.

“I shouldn’t have hit you last night,” she said.

I left it at that.

Ginny
The reason I had slapped Malfoy the night before was basically cowardice on my part. Malfoy had elicited desire from me, and I was afraid to lose control. I knew he was just trying to manipulate me. I was an especially challenging conquest to him, and nothing more.

Malfoy drove us into a small town and parked in the grocery store lot. I didn’t wait for him to open my car door, and I walked quickly ahead to enter the store.

He looked so, well, so normal, buying groceries. Not like a convicted murderer and the sidekick of the most powerful dark wizard in history at all. I found myself staring at him more than I liked. The denim hugged his body comfortably, and I dragged my gaze away from his backside, only to have it rest on the powerful muscles of his shoulders, visible through the fitted shirt. He turned toward me and I averted my eyes.

“Is there anything you want?” he asked.

You, damn you, is what I thought.

“Um, no,” is what I said.

He handed the clerk some crisp pound notes and I followed him out to the car.

“Do you usually do your own shopping?” I asked, forcing a sardonic edge to my voice.

“Of course not,” he said, responding to my tone with a sneer.

This was better. Don’t be too friendly with the prisoner, Weasley.

Lucius
I saw her watching me as I wandered the aisles, and could not keep the smirk off my face. She didn’t know it, but I had already won this little war. I’d planted the seeds in her, and had only to wait until it bloomed. When necessary, I can practice patience.

From the look on her face when I bent to take something off the bottom shelf, I would not be waiting long.

When we arrived back at the house I found that the post had arrived. There was only one letter, and it was from Reesman, Aberforth, and Puddwink, the firm that handled financial matters for my family. I opened it and unfolded a piece of embossed paper.

Dear Mr. Lucius Malfoy,
Congratulations on your release from Azkaban. Our firm was confident that you would regain your liberty. It is however our regretful duty to inform you that your estate may be in jeopardy.

Upon the death of your wife and the legal declaration of decadence for your son, you are currently without any heir. If your current precarious custody situation were to change (i.e. if the Wizengamot were to sentence you to life imprisonment), or if you were to unexpectedly die, the Malfoy estate (including all grounds, funds, and other property) would be liquidated and given in its entirety to the Ministry of Magic to disperse.

Normally we would recommend to you that you declare an heir immediately, resolving the difficulty. However in your particular case this will not be possible.

You may not know that the first Malfoy to contract our services was Annaeus Malfoy, in whose will it is specified that all his properties must remain in the possession of his family or become forfeit. This includes Malfoy Manor and the four square kilometres that surround it. Likewise, his son had a similar clause in his will. Therefore if you were to declare an heir not related by patrilineal descent, all your property (with the exception of any moneys earned and property acquired by your father or yourself, and all moneys and properties inherited through your mother or your late wife) will be unconditionally surrendered to the government upon your death or incarceration. And, as you undoubtedly know, you have no living relatives of patrilineal descent.

The only way you can guarantee that your estate will be maintained is to produce an heir. Of course this heir must be legally categorized as legitimate. We leave it to you to manage the logistics of this.

Thank you for your time.

“What’s that?”

I startled so hard I almost dropped the letter.

“A matter of my finances,” I said evasively, folding the parchment and putting it back in the envelope.

“Should I trust that’s the truth?” she asked.

“You can see the watermark of my broker,” I said, showing her. “That should be evidence enough.”

Weasley pursed her lips, but she turned away without further inquiry. I stared at the envelope. An heir. For the first time since her death I genuinely wished Narcissa was still alive.

How was I to produce a legitimate heir with no wife? And how was I to get a wife? Before the war, my wealth would be sufficient to woo a pureblood daughter to marry me. Now I doubted any would have me; I had an inexplicably dead wife and a proven involvement in criminal activities. This was a very big problem.

Ginny
Malfoy was even more irritable than usual that afternoon, and I found myself bristling in response to his insults and sarcasm. I slammed the door to my suite and he the door to his, and I hewatewater running into the tub. A bath would’ve calmed me down as well, but I was curious to know what had caused his sudden anger. I listened at his door until the bathroom door closed, then pulled out my wand to unlock it. On condcond thought I tried the knob, and it turned easily. He’d left it unlocked? I slipped into the room.

I decided it had to be the contents of that letter he’d received. Nothing else had happened during the course of the day to explain his behavior. The problem was finding it. I searched quickly and quietly, but it was nowhere to be found. I looked cursorily through the cabinet that housed the small bar. Then I stopped short; the nightstand. I opened the drawer and, sure enough, there it was. I picked it up and sat down on the edge of the bed to read it.

“What are you doing?”

Malfoy stood before me in nothing but a dark grey towel, hair streaming around his shoulders, looking very disgruntled indeed. I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I stood up and faced him. He walked past me and took the envelope from the bed where I’d dropped it. Then he moved to the fireplace and tossed it in.

I watched the paper crackle and be consumed.

“That is none of your concern,” he said angrily.

“Frankly, Malfoy, everything you do is my concern.”

He sneered furiously.

“It was a matter of money, Weasley. Something you wouldn’t know anything about.”

That really did it. There’s nothing I’m more sensitive about than the fact that my family is poor. I ba kep kept my wand in my pocket as I moved toward him.

“You know, Malfoy, I think if I had a fortune I would gladly trade it for a soul, which is something you wouldn’t know anything about.”

His nostrils flared slightly and I could see he was barely containing his fury.

“You Muggle-loving little bitch! It’s people like you that are ruining wizarddom for us all!”

I stood less than a foot from him, and I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. Unarmed and wrapped in a towel, he was no threat to me. I could probably outfight him even without my wand. When I spoke, I kept my voice calm.

“Malfoy, I am every ounce as pure-blooded as you are. And I am not the one who became a groveling sycophant to the most reviled wizard in history.”

He made a chuffing sound like a train decelerating, and I turned on my heel and left the room.

Lucius
Through the haze of my anger, her words had no real impact. But as I threw my towel back into the bathroom and pounded my fist into the wall, my rage began to dissipate. I realized exactly what it was she had said.

Weasley literally was just as pure of blood as I was. She also wasn’t afraid of me…and the looks she had given me in the grocery store…

Then I halted myself, ending that unacceptable train of thought. Weasley was a loathsome little insect. She was the worst kind of witch; a pureblood who did not see the value in her breeding. I wanted her, and that angered me. It also angered me that an eligible, single, pureblood witch was living in my house even as I found out it could be lost if I did not marry. I opened a bottle of Dewar’s and drank myself to sleep.

Ginny
I sat down on the bed in the guest room and pulled the letter out of my robes; Malfoy had thrown an empty envelope into the fire. Growing up at the Burrow I’d learned how to sneak things away from parents and older brothers. Life skills learned at home, wouldn’t you say?

Skimming over the mild dialect of legalese, I realized why Malfoy was so upset. His money was the only thing that set him apart from the rest of the wizarding world, and now it might vanish, leaving him no better than a Weasley. I put away the letter and went to bed.

The next morning I went downstairs to get some breakfast and Malfoy was not there. Usually he was already at the table, a copy of the Daily Prophet spread before him. I felt a momentary panic and pulled out my wand to do a Locate on the bracelet I’d snapped on Malfoy’s wrist. The image that resolved itself on the table was of his bedroom, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He was still in bed.

When he finally came downstairs he was clean-shaven and freshly showered, but his skin was pale grey.

“Malfoy?” I asked. Although my job was just to keep him out of trouble, I was pretty sure Harry also wanted me to keep anything from happening to him.

“What?” he demanded, going to the counter. He did not reach for the paper. Instead he filled a cup with coffee and sat down unsteadily at the table. I almost laughed when I realized the problem; he was hung over.

“You know, it would help to eat something,” I said.

He looked at me sourly.

“Weasley, I have been weathering hangovers since before you were born.” I shrugged and picked up a section of the newspaper.

We did not speak for the rest of the day.

Monday morning saw us back at work, and I was buried in an avalanche of paperwork. There was a knock at my door and I answered without looking up.

“Hello, Weasley. Busy?” X sat on the corner of my desk and I finished my sentence quickly before glancing up at him.

“You changed your hair back,” I said. He smiled briefly. I could see that he had a mission folder under his arm.

“You trained in Occlumency during the war.”

I was surprised by his abruptness. Of course I’d learned Occlumency as soon as I could; I had already been controlled by Voldemort once, and I’d had no desire to be subjected to such things again. So far it had not proved particularly useful in my field work, but as I eyed the thick sheaf he dropped in front of me I wondered if that was about to change.

“Among other things,” I said, opening the folder. The Priority One stamp on the first page gme pme pause. “Top priority?” I asked.

“An active Death Eater cell in Siberia.”

“Then what does my Occlumental ability have to do with it?”

He grinned tightly and flipped the report a few pages.

“One of them is a telepath.”

X had brown eyes that day, and he watched me closely.

“When do I leave?” I asked, closing the folder.

“That depends on our contact,” he said. “You have at least three weeks. In the meantime, I need you to read the reports, and you might want to do some research.” X hesitated a moment, which was unlike him. “I think it’s better if you don’t consult Malfoy on this.”

“Malfoy has no outgoing contact with anyone,” I said. X pursed his lips. “Speaking of which, who’s going to babysit him for me?”

“Maybe I’ll send Galahad over.” X grinned broadly.

“Um, right.” X got up to leave, and something suddenly occurred to me. “What am I going to tell Malfoy?”

“The truth; you’re going on a field mission.”

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to have me out of the house for a while.”

“There’s the spirit.”

Lucius
I had long ago ceased to be irritated with Weasley, but of course she couldn’t know that. So whemet met her at the door to her office that evening I held my tongue in stony silence.

“I’m going to be leaving soon,” Weasley announced suddenly, as we got on the elevator.

“Oh?” I tried to sound as disinterested as possible.

“On a field mission. Someone will be taking my place at the mansion.”

She bustled out of the elevator and I followed at the more graceful pace necessitated by my left knee. Weasley was wearing heels, which every man both loves and dreads for what they do to a woman’s stride. It was quite comfortable to rest my eyes on her backside as she walked toward the doors. God, I had to get her out of those robes. All other concerns were pushed aside as conquest took precedence.

Several plans of attack began to take shape in my mind. Tom had always told me that what made me a great strategist was that I was unaccustomed to failure, and would do anything to achieve my ends. Anything could be managed as a function of logistics. I could visualize each possible method and its potential complications. Finally settling on one, I lengthened my strides to catch up to her.

“Tell you what, Weasley,” I said, adjusting my gloves. Best not to meet her eyes. I glanced left and back; it works every time. “I behaved rather badly this weekend, and I’d like to make it up to you.”

“Oh?” she asked, arching one eyebrow. “And how do you propose to do that?”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

Ginny
Malfoy walked ahead of me, leaning almost imperceptibly on his snakehead cane. He led me down a side alley to a restaurant I had never seen before. He held the door for me and I thanked him automatically; how civil we were when there wasn’t a conflict brewing or a war on. The maitre d’ bustled over.

“Mister Malfoy, how good to see you,” he smarmed. “Such a lovely surprise.” Then he glanced at me. “And who is the beautiful lady you have brought tonight?”

“I’d like my usual table, Willard,” Malfoy said.

We were seated and handed menus and the maitre d’ left to attend to the next customer.

“I wonder if there’s a page in the restaurant host handbook treadreads: ‘Always ridiculously flatter female patrons.’”

“What do you mean?” Malfoy asked, opening his menu.

“Well, he said I was beautiful.”

“You are,” Malfoy said absently, flipping the page. It was my turn to stare at him in silence and wait until he looked up. “What?”

“Nothing.” I opened my menu and nearly had a heart attack at the prices. He put his hand on my wrist and smiled.

“Relax, Weasley. I’m paying,” he said softly. I felt my cheeks heat. He tapped an item with a gloved fingertip. “This is what I would recommend.”

“Okay.”

When the waiter arrived, Malfoy ordered for me. He sipped his water delicately as the waiter walked away and I looked at him expectantly.

“I haven’t gotten my food yet, so there can’t be something on my face,” he said, crossing his arms firmly over his chest.

“You don’t have to flatter me, Malfoy.”

Malfoy set down his water.

“Weasley, listen. You and I are not friends. In fact, I would say we are enemies. Therefore I am quite aware I do not have to speak pretty untruths to you.”

It took me a moment to puzzle over that. Did it mean he really did think I was beautiful?

Lucius
She looked confused. Perfect. I had never leveled it on her, so Weasley had no idea how charming I could be when I wanted something from someone. And I certainly wanted something from Wea.
.

Her hair was darker than when she was a girl, a deep auburn that perfectly set off her pale, flawless skin. The childhood freckles were gone, leaving only alabaster smoothness. She was wearing casual robes, but I could still tell that she had a full bust and a defined waist. Her legs were shapely and long, and she looked athletic and healthy. Worth a squirt, as the Muggles say.

When we had polished off our desserts, I suggested we take a bit of a walk. Diagon Alley can actually be rather pretty at night, when the stars are out. Weasley was telling me an amusing story that had happened during the war as we walked into the little open courtyard at one end of the alley. I stopped and turned toward her and she hesitated in her tale.

“And then he…”

Weasley looked up at me and her skin glowed in the moonlight. I had not noticed that her eyes were a rich cobalt blue, like the velvet backdrop above us. They searched mine in a brief instant of concern.

“What?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said, letting my voice drop to a soft purr. I reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “What happened next?” I asked, moving closer. I had to time this carefully; Weasley was likely to become defensive if I rushed her.

“Well, he, um.” She stopped. “What are you looking at?” she asked.

“You.” I stepped in closer, so my foot was resting between hers on the cobblestones. She was breathing slightly faster. I was succeeding.

“Why?”

“Because you are completely arresting,” I said, breathing each word out. Weasley shivered slightly. She was practically vibrating. I touched her cheek with the tip of my finger, trailing it down her chin. When I pulled it back, she followed, leaning forward as if there was a string attached to my glove. The kiss I bestowed on her lips was a gentle brush.

“We should get back to the manor,” I said, snapping her out of the trance. She blinked and stepped back.

“Okay.”

The manor was quiet and dark, and I let her go upstairs ahead of me. She kept glancing back nervously, and I gave her an enigmatic smile.

When we arrived in the sitting room between our suites, I took her hand in mine and kissed her knuckles.

“Good night, Ginevra,” I murmured, letting the words ghost over her fingers like a soft caress. Her mouth opened slightly and I stepped back, holding her hand until the last moment before turning toward my own room.

“Wait, Malfoy,” she said abruptly. I turned back, my expression one of innocence.

“Yes?”

She started to speak, but instead she moved closer and put her hand on my chest. I slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her in to kiss her breathless.

“Would you like to come to my room?” she asked.

“Only if that’s what you want,” I said softly, taking her hand and running my fingers gently over hers. She was putty in my hands. For a moment I wondered if it would be better to refuse tonight and accept later, but decided that I didn’t want to give her time to change her mind.

Weasley nodded mutely and pulled me toward her bedroom.

I took my gloves off and set them on the bureau, watching her slip out of her outer robe. She looked a little nervous, but I knew I could soon soothe that. I took off my own robe and hung it by the door.

“Malfoy,” she said.

“Please, call me Lucius,” I answered, putting my hands on her shoulders. “My god, you are beautiful.”

Her cheeks pinked.

“I…It’s been a long time,” she said apologetically, as I unbuttoned her blouse.

“I will be gentle.” I kissed her throat; her pulse was hammering against my lips. She fumbled with the frogs on my vest and I put my hands over hers to help. Were I any other man I might have felt guilty about doing this to her. Instead I stepped out of my shoes and slipped my vest off.

She ran her fingers through my hair shyly, curiously. I kissed her again, hearing her inhale sharply through her nose and feeling her hands tighten.

Ginny
I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but here he was, half naked and kissing me like no man ever had. All my previous experience had been at school; awkward fumbling in the dark privacy of an empty classroom or the Room of Requirement. There was nothing awkward about the way he was hinghing me. He pushed me back gently onto my bed, lips caressing my throat. I glanced down at his body and felt breathless. No man of forty-six had any right to look that good.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly, his thumb stroking a small circle on my stomach that was driving me mad. I nodded, and he bent to press a kiss to the hollow at the base of my throat. He pushed gently at my thigh and I opened my legs obligingly.

Malfoy’s eyes drifted closed and he groaned from someplace deep in his throat. He was unhurried, moving slowly against me. Oh no, this was nothing like the boys at school. I pushed back with every thrust, by now so lost in lust that I had begun to feel as if the whole room were pulsing with the power of his hips. I let my head tip back into the pillow, mouth falling open. His hand trailed down my side, leaving a tingling path, and then he did something with his fingers I’d never experienced before. The surprise of it made me cry out, and he grunted a laugh. Then he pushed deep, trembling as he came before collapsing against me. His powerful chest was heaving just as fast as mine, and for a moment he lay there, collecting himself. Then he withdrew and stretched out beside me.

“That’s never happened before,” I gasped.

Lucius
“Happy to be of service.” I put my hand on her stomach, expecting her to roll in awellwell, cuddle. Women her age generally do. She seemed satisfied to lie there, occasionally glancing at me. Very flattering to an old man’s ego, to have a pretty girl examine you approvingly.

Perhaps it should have bothered me more that I was nearly thirty the day she was born. Or that she and I had fought on opposite sides in a bloody conflict less than a year ago. But instead what I was thinking was that I really enjoyed lying here next to her. Of course the sex was enjoyable as well.

Some facts about Weasley seemed to spring to mind unbidden: the objective of getting her into bed was complete, and my brain was working on other concerns. She’s four generations pure blood, it whispered insidiously. She’s young and connected, now that Dumbledore’s cronies are in power.

I am not one to dally over a decision, and I made up my mind almost as quickly as I can tell about it. I leaned over and let my lips touch her ear.

“Ginny,” I murmured. She made a humming sound. I detest nicknames, but I spoke it again.

“Ginny.”

“Yes?” she asked.

“Would you marry me?”

She sat up abruptly. I lay on my back and looked up at her.

“Malfoy, I know this is about your estate,” she accused. She looked hurt and angry; what had I done wrong? “I read the letter.”

Oh.

“No,” I protested, grabbing her wrist gently. “Listen, Ginny. Yes, that’s what precipitated it. But think about it, will you?”

“Why should I?” she asked. “No woman in her right mind would marry you.”

“That’s why I asked you,” I said, smiling. “Look at the facts. You’re probably the only pureblood woman in the world who’s not afraid of me.”

“That’s true.”

“It’s an excellent match for me because it solidifies my tenuous position with the Ministry,” I explained. “And because your family won’t ask an outrageous bride price.”

“What’s in it for me?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Draco told me how it was for you in school,” I whispered, gathering her into my arms. She resisted only slightly. “How the boys would use you. I hurt you, when I slipped you that book. What man would have you?”

“No one ever wanted to get close to me because they were afraid of my connection to Voldemort.”

I took her hand in mine and laid it atop the faded Dark Mark on my arm, with its three raised scars where Potter’s bloody fingers had touched my skin. She looked at it a moment and then up at my face. There was no mistaking what I’d meant.

“I won’t lie to you, Weasley.” I was going through all the motions, touching her in all the right ways. But I began to wonder if it wasn’t because I’d been lonely since the war started, a seeming eternity ago. Here was a woman with fire. “I don’t respect you as much as you deserve. But I think, despiteall,all, that I actually do like you.”

“Like?” she asked. “I should marry you because you like me?”

“I hated my first wife,” I said. “So that’s an improvement from my perspective.”

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

I got up and gathered my clothes.

“Do you think you’ll have an answer at breakfast?” I asked hopefully.

“Maybe.”

Ginny
The last thing I’d expected him to do was propose to me. And the last thing I expected was that I would actually consider saying yes. He went back to his own room and I took a shower, slipping into clean robes. I said a spell and slid into clean, cool sheets, knowing I would not sleep anytime soon.

I could hear his voice in my ear, seductive. All the things he’d said and more were dragging me towards saying yes, beating down the feeble arguments I made against them. He’s too old, I thought. That old man just gave you the best sex of your life my mind answered. I knew that Malfoy had manipulated me to get me into bed, but I had to wonder if he could be like that for real: tender, gentle, and sweet. I lay awake for hours wrestling with myself, and finally fell into a fitful sleep.

He poured me a cup of coffee and sat across from me, watching me expectantly but not saying anything. I picked up the Prophet and skimmed the headlines, hoping to avoid the inevitable. Malfoy tapped his thumbs absently.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“Better than I expected,” I answered, turning the page. He didn’t want to ask, anymore than I wanted to give him an answer.

Finally, he broke.

“Have you decided?”

The tone of his voice clinched it for me; he sounded pained, like I might refuse. Whatever his other motives were, Malfoy really did want me to say yes. I nodded and started reading a story about artifacts found in an Aztec temple.

“Well?” he asked impatiently.

“Oh.” I shrugged. “Sure.”

“Sure?” His voice was incredulous. “Sure?”

“Yeah.”

Malfoy scoffed. I set down the paper.

“ do do you want to do it?” I asked, picking up my coffee.

Lucius
We ended up doing it during our lunch break that day, before either of us could reconsider. I filled out some forms, slipped a three-carat diamond onto her finger, bought her a sandwich, and headed back to the office, now a married man.

Potter stopped me in the hall to ask after a report, dampening my good mood.

“You certainly look cheery,” he said suspiciously.

“You would be too, Potter,” I told him. Then I went to my office and tackled the day’s paperwork without so much as a mental sigh.