Ginny Weasley: Maid in Malfoy Manor

Ginny Weasley: Maid in Malfoy Manor

Chapter Six:

Process of Elimination

*

A thick yellowing parchment was clasped into the pale and slender hands of the woman sitting behind the obscuring view of a blood-red leather bound chair perched beside the hazed towering window. She was bothered, yet still fairly interested on what the innocent piece of manuscript had stated. The correspondence was fabricated quite formally, with the elegant seal of the sender stamped unto one of the best well-designed parchment available. Even the stylish scrawls arranged by the lusciously thick ink were unmistakably the work of a top-notch charmer. It was highly expected from the sender.

It was an invitation concerning to the Grand Ball that was supposed to take place two days from now. A celebration hosted by one of the most powerful pure-blooded families in the wizarding world, now being ruled and controlled by wizards who were outmost loyal to the previously banished Lord Voldemort. Apparently, their only daughter was celebrating her 16^th birthday.

With Lucius Malfoy being the head of the now corrupted and unjust Ministry of Magic, the Malfoy family was practically required to attend. She placed the invitation on the delicately patterned table beside her and picked up another note, this one a little muddled and unkempt, obviously written in a hurry. It gave her the impression that the sender was not as conscious on the effect of the letter on the receiver than the previous correspondent did. She opened it and read the untidy scrawl, then frowned, thinking of the situation that this simple letter had created.

There was a soft knock on the thick mahogany double door, an indication that her precious boy had finally arrived.

"Hello, Mother," the familiar drawling voice said, followed by the rickety sound of a closing door. "Mary said you wanted to see me."

Narcissa Malfoy turned her chair around and faced her son, looking grim and vindictive as always. So it was true, her dear offspring had now turned into a young man. A fine one at that. Being a mother, Narcissa knew that she had quite a few failures and a fair number of errors in her parenting. She admittedly left Draco as early as infancy to the care of Mary, fondling with her other concerns. And now that he had already grown up, frequent communication was still lacking from their detached relationship. But even though she knew that he only thought of her as his mother, and not as somebody who actually upheld that prestigious title of a woman who was caring and affectionate, she knew that he still have some respect left to show.

"Yes, I do," Narcissa answered, placing the note together with the invitation then standing up. She secretly measured his son's height with hers thinking how he was truly blessed when it came to physical aspects, and how it would make almost everything that he wanted easier to get. "I believe that you heard about the upcoming Ball this Friday," said Narcissa, "Your father made it clearly imperative that your presence is required at the celebration, so I might suggest that you do not object this time to prevent further...complications."

A slightly awkward pause rang in the air.

"And just for your enlightenment," she continued. "The invitation arrived earlier this morning."

"So what's the problem with that?" drawled Draco, who was evidently looking bored. Narcissa could see that he'd rather be somewhere else than to be stuck in this dark uncomfortable room with her, talking about tedious things like attending a birthday party of someone he hardly knew.

"The problem, Draco," Narcissa stated, "is that I have just been alerted that your fiancée, who was supposed to be your partner to the ball, is currently incapable of accompanying you to the banquet."

"What?" Draco exclaimed, suddenly snapping out of his dispassionate reverie. "You're already lucky that I've agreed to go to this insipid party, and now you're telling me that I have nobody to go with?"

"May I remind you that it is your father is the one that inclined you and not me? I'm as eager about this celebration as you are, so lower down your voice or suffer awfully displeasing consequences," Narcissa warned. "It's not my fault that your fiacée suddenly developed an unknown skin disease, or so the letter says." She involuntarily scowled and put deep emphasis on the word 'skin disease'. Her extreme discontentment was showing on her pallid face, while she handed Draco the shabbily written letter.

The further Draco read, the more pronounced his frown became. After a few more seconds, he released the parchment and let it drop into the floor, and said, "I don't believe this."

"Neither do I. Your fiancée was never very talented in inventing excuses," Narcissa responded, letting a small grin materialize on her flawless face.

"I'm not going to the ball then," Draco brusquely declared, beginning to turn around to leave the ro altogether.

"Your father won't be too pleased to find that out," Narcissa called out to the withdrawing Draco.

"I don't care."

"Tell me, Draco," Narcissa said in a flat impassive way, "do you actually care about her?"

To her surprise, Draco stopped dead on his tracks. He turned around blanching a bit.

"About who?" He asked. Narcissa could see that he was trying to sound as unaffected as possible, which was clearly not working.

"Whom do you think?" she smirked in that famous Malfoy way that seemed to run in every member of the family. "Your fiancée of course! Or is there anyone else that we should be talking about?"

"Of course not!" he exclaimed in response. "She's my fiancée! Of course I care for her! What kind of question is that?"

"You don't have to be so defensive, I'm only asking after all. Probably because it seems to me that you're not even thinking of visiting her unwell self," Narcissa clarified, looking knowingly at her son. "If you really are concerned about her, I expect you to be hurrying to be at her side. You should be apparating to her room right now trying to find out if the case stated on the letter was in fact accurate. Surprisingly, as a person this closely related to her, I see none of that reactions from you."

"Well, Mother, I feel that you don't know her that well," Draco replied, walking further within the spacious area. "Identifying her as I do, I highly doubt that she is in mortal danger. She's probably doing her nails right at this very moment. And if, if it really is true, I'm pretty sure that a hoard of mediwizards would readily be at her perfectly manicured feet struggling to cure whatever acute disease she has. Hence, I think that dashing towards the ailing lady is going to be incredibly pointless."

"Do you love her, Draco?" she asked, making Draco look up in surprise and in obvious lack of response.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think it means?" Narcissa replied, again having that all-knowing look on her face. "The question's quite clear. All I'm asking is do you love her, or is that a matter already to complicated for you to react to?"

"Malfoy's don't love, Mother," Draco replied solemnly, looking very thoughtful even in his standards. "You ought to know that the most."

A deep pensive silence followed, as if both were thinking the exact same thing but with a different understanding to it. It was a quite a peculiar scene to see passive Malfoys be this full of silent emotion.

"Oh, no, that's where you're wrong, Draco," Narcissa replied, quite a bit slighted at what her son had presumed. "We love quite well...if not wisely."

Snapping out of a detached trance and catching herself just in time before she says anything else, Narcissa swiftly bid her goodbye. She promptly strode out of the room, leaving a confused Draco behind, their discussion ending quite the contrary of the expected outcome.

*

"What do you mean she can't come?" said Draco who was currently pacing at the front of the radiating fireplace, fuming very much like the searing flame in front of him. Because behind the glowing exterior of the blaze, there was the foolishly floating head of a ridiculously ugly house elf who was exasperating Draco greatly. "I want to see her now!"

"Benny told you already, Master Draco," squeaked the house-elf, his grotesque features noticeably quaking with desperately concealed terror. "The Mistress doesn't want to be bothered at the moment, sir. She is quite incapable of presenting herself while looking relatively...under the weather, sir," he finished lamely.

"'Under the weather?'" repeated Draco unbelievably, finally stopping in front of the stupidly bobbing head in his bedroom's fireplace. Compared to a regular house-elf, this one was fortunately better in speaking proper English and probably smarter. But despite that providential quality, Draco was still deeply pissed off. "You're kidding me, right? You certainly don't expect me to believe that lame remark to regard as a legitimate excuse to look absolutely injudicious, presenting myself as Draco Malfoy - one of the most sought-after bachelor in the whole wizarding world - entirely partner-less at the ball!"

"Yes, dear master," said the house-elf, "it would be very ironic if things would turn out that tragic way." The comment was almost sarcastic to Draco's ears but he let it slip. The fact that it was the first time that he heard a house-elf being sarcastic was surprisingly enough to throw him off guard. But he still knew that if he did lose his temper; things would get pretty...messy around the place. Another life lost because of an utterly senseless cause. That would be pretty tragic.

"Where is she? Why couldn't I get into her room?" he asked once again. "Why are there forces keeping me from apparating into the mansion's grounds? What the bloody hell is happening in there? I command you to answer me Benny!"

"Master Draco," answered the house-elf, obviously gaining some notable confidence. "If there is something going on, Benny doubts that he is going to be the one who will be appointed to tell the young master. Benny is afraid that he can help no further. Benny wishes that the young master would let Benny go now, because Benny is sure that there's nothing more that he can do to assist..."

Draco tried real hard to control his emotions. He knew that letting off all his pent up feelings to his fiancée's personal house-elf was going to be completely useless, nt to mention exceptionally stupid. Another thing was, considering the considerable...disgrace that he just encountered earlier this morning; he was definitely not too keen to blurt it out to a babbling house-elf. So instead, he took a deep, moderately calming breath, and let the house-elf go back to his daily duties.

Benny vanished from the flames, leaving alone the distinctive dancing of the radiant fire.

First, a raging red-head, next, an inconsiderable amount of masculine dishonor. Soon after that, an infuriating news, then, a sarcastic house-elf... How I fear to think of what's going to happen next. Draco furiously contemplated, dropping on his bed; his arms laid out like a fleeting eagle.

This might be just a simple dilemma for many, but Draco knew better than to see things the way common wizards do. It might not be that obvious, but to the Malfoy Family, as the current head of the whole wizarding world, appearance was everything. Because if their good reputation among the sinister masters of the council will be tainted with even an infinitesimal stain of dishonor, everything that his Father worked for, and everything that they have would evidently mean nothing. It seemed quite ironic that the most powerful family actually had something to fear amongst the empire they rule, but the truth was far more frightening than what normal commoners see. Because what they didn't know was that, the Ministry that they were dominated upon was also destroying each other. Hidden behind that expensive robes and that convincing smiles of the corrupt lower officials was an intensely concealed longing to be on the top. And the only way to be the highest and the most powerful was destroying whoever was currently seated on the throne. Whether taken literally or not, it was still severely treacherous to whoever was in the sought after position, and that meant his father.

Heartless and brutally strict his father might be, Draco was still grateful for him. Because if not for his endless pursuit to gain power, they wouldn't be in the place they were at the moment. And evil as though his father might seem, he still was not a replacement to Voldemort, so that might mean that he still have the power to love, it was just being ignored.

There was a knock on his thick solid-wood bedroom door and Draco was snapped out of his reverie. Impulsive annoyance barraged him instinctively. But nowadays, he noticed that he could control his spontaneous emotions better and when he decided that there was nothing worthy of his irritation, his frustration disappeared almost in an instant.

But a morsel of his laziness remained and he reluctantly opened his locked bedroom door...and almost gasped in surprise...and awe.

The red-head that he had been so angry to just a few hours earlier was standing right in front of him, her long crimson hair falling elegantly past her shoulders. The unusual thing was, she was not wearing the usual Malfoy Maid's Uniform but was wearing fairly...tight muggle clothes. She was obviously going somewhere or at least planning to go somewhere since maids shouldn't exit the Malfoy Grounds unless they have the permission to do so.

Draco almost became speechless but then rapidly caught himself, thinking that he saw more beautiful women knock on his bedroom door. Sometimes even wearing further body-hugging clothes and in not so rare cases, no clothes at all. Thinking that, he then again caught himself, apparently disgusted that he even associated a Weasley with the term beautiful. Of course he didn't think she was beautiful or even merely pretty! What was he, insane?

"What do you want?" he roughly asked, trying hard not to think of what had happened on their last meeting.

Ginny was fondling with his nails and was looking all over the place, seemingly at lost on where she should stare on. When she looked like she finally settled on staring at his shoes, her gaze accidentally traveled a couple of inch or so upward, causing her to blush furiously.

Draco would normally find this act extremely funny, but when he identified what she was blushing for, all the absurdity disappeared like vapor. Because even though he might act like the previous accident doesn't matter to him, truth be told was that, he was tremendously mortified at what happened. It was so unexpected that he went for his automatic defense mechanism in which he was to turn the tables upside down and transfer the embarrassment to whoever was appropriate. But that moment of reverse method only lasts for the short period of time, not really preventing him from thinking over and over again what really took place and how it could affect things.

"I know you Weasleys aren't such a bright lot, but I would've expected you to understand such a simple question," he drawled, enjoying every moment of normality where servants tremble at his feet..

"I asked Mary for a day-off so I could visit my mother and Ron, but she sent me up here saying that you're the one that I'm supposed to be asking, so..." Ginny paused uncertainly, now very transfixed at her nails.

Draco was rather taken aback.

What happened to the fiery and forceful servant that this feeble little maid once was? Where had the snappy lines and witty comebacks gone? Because in complete honesty, that was why he hired her to be his personal maid in the first place. As bizarre at it may seem, he needed somebody to fight with every now and then. He had lived in a world where the previous house-elf bowed at his feet and his every whim and commands where granted without question or protest no matter how difficult or stupid the order was. And he was sick of all that. He had never met anybody who dared to answer him back since the time when they became the most powerful family in the whole wizarding community, and that was the one simple fact that made her different and more interesting than the other maids serving this Manor. He yearned for a change and longed for a challenge. And she was it.

But as intense as his deeply concealed admiration was, he was still a Malfoy and that meant being as insensitive and cruel as you can possibly be, and not show any real emotion, so he just shrugged and drawled a reply.

"No, I'm afraid you can't," said Draco, preparing to close the door. "If that's all, I suggest that you change back into your uniform and not bother me further. I'll call you if I need anything."

And with a sarcastic smirk from Draco and through one of the most passionate stare of loathing and disgust that Ginny could manage, there was again those thick wooden double-doors separating two opposite worlds.

*

That miserable bastard! Ginny fumed storming through the carpeted corridor of the master's quarters. Yes, he has the power to embarrass me and treat me like dirt but he has no right to keep me away from my family!

She had received earlier an owl and a note from her mother telling her that Arthur had a minor relapse. It was nothing serious but it could only mean that his body was rapidly deteriorating and his time here on the mortal realm was slowly decreasing. Ginny wanted to see her father because if that inevitable time comes a little sooner than they expected, she would never forgive herself if she wasn't there beside her father in his last moment of living. If that happens given her situation, she would never forgive Draco for not letting her spend her time with her weakening family. Her life.

And there she was thinking, just before the refusal of her request, how Draco was just an innocent boy deep inside that hard façade when she saw a second of softness in his eyes earlier that morning. How can she be so stupid to even start to think that one of the Malfoys have a heart and sensitivity to share?

*

He knew that he was a little hard on Ginny but he didn't care. He wasn't the type to feel bad about minor mistakes and broken hearts. It was just a waste of time after all to lament about the past that nobody could change. Draco was raised to not feel and to not show any sympathy nor affection unless he was told to do so, and it was hard to change an upbringing like that.

The young master paced around his spacious room, still thinking about his plans for the social bore-fest that the rich and powerful identified as a grand ball. If he didn't go, he would never hear the end of his father's lecture about social etiquettes and governmental protocols. If he did go without a partner, his image would be no doubt ruined and there would be an endless barrage from the papers about cancelled engagement and lover's quarrel that never even happened. And knowing his spoiled fiancée, she would never change her mind about a thing that she had already decided upon. He couldn't even talk to her in person much less make her attend to a ball she would no doubt be bored stiff in.

Every way he thought of seemed to be a dead end.

Unless he could make somebody come with him to the party and be his partner. On the subject of his social standing and physical features, there was no doubt that he could make every girl that he ask swoon at his feet and readily accept, but the question is who. Who would be the girl lucky enough to be invited by him, the same one who would be unfortunate enough to suffer his fiancée's wrath once she found out that he went with another woman to a media covered banquet.

He knew one thing though. His vain friends and self-filled ex-girlfriends were definitely out of the picture. Most of them stopped talking to him the moment his father robbed their families of their wealth and stripped them their respectable social status. The rest of the numerous girls he once dated finally gave up dragging him back into their arms when they found out that e was already engaged to a woman they dubbed as the 'ice queen'.

So, who else would be credible enough to be with him just for a night?

And then, after a minute or so of contemplating, a not so brilliant plan erupted from his exhausted brain.

The maids.

Truth be told there were at least some of them physically qualified to stand by him side by side without looking like...well, a pitiable servant. A chosen few could pass up for a lovely maiden from out of town visiting the British wizarding community and Draco could pose as the humble gentleman showing her the exquisite sights of his kingdom. The guests at the banquet would never see them again anyway, so it could be a foolproof plan.

The more he thought about it, the cleverer the idea seemed.

But then, who among those chosen few could carry a conversation with the educated and privileged members of society? Who among them have the wit to actually impress those conceited people and not look like a complete moron?

The needed credentials narrowed the search down to hardly any but there were still a very few people remaining.

There was Emma, sweet-faced and gentle, but then she would probably drop dead in shock before he even blurt out the words 'will you go to the ball with me?'. There was also Danielle Jacobs, his father's personal servant, gorgeous and intelligent, but then Draco had a very unpleasant feeling that she was having an affair with his father so going out with her would just complicate things even further. Natalie, the aggravated kitchen maid could be a candidate with her sharp beauty and intellectual attitude - she was a Ravenclaw after all - but she would probably agree out of fear of being unemployed and would almost certainly shoot daggers at him with her eyes all through out the festivity and would be a liability instead of an asset.

And all that process of elimination left him one more person to consider.

Draco Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks, appalled on what he was actually thinking. Horrified on who he was actually considering to be his partner to the God-forsaken ball.

This is not happening, he thought, feeling as though he had broken a vital rule in the Malfoy Family Code. But the fact that he had already deliberated on it and actually reflected for a split second there without actually thinking that she could be the one, was enough to send shivers through his skin and realize what was really happening to him.

But it was impossible! It was unacceptable for a Malfoy to... He would never in a million years...

Draco collapsed on his bed confused and actually in the verge of laughing at this ironic fate that life had brought him. Turned out, he had no choice. Ginny Weasley was the most capable of socializing to the elite and famous probably because of her wit and modest background, and being a Malfoy, he would never settle for the second best. He sat up and reached for the invitation that was sitting on his bedside table. He reread it again and noticed the small note at the bottom right side of the parchment. His face lit up with a shrewd smile.

So it was a masked costume ball...

Perfect! Now the only thing that the guests will see was that he was with a beautiful maiden with red gorgeous locks enjoying the night away.

But how will he convince her to actually say yes to his proposal when he just turned down her simple request?

He thought for a moment and decided that it won't be a problem.

After all, there was nothing in this world that he cannot obtain.

*