Hesperides' Apple

Ginny appeared in a large and luminous antechamber. Windows and mirrors battled for space in the walls, filling the room with light. The walls, ceiling, and carpets were off-white, the lamps and chairs were golden. The young woman was debating whether to sit down on such pristine furniture when a ghost floated through a mirror and curtsied before her.

"Miss Vassil, welcome to Malfoy Manor. Master Malfoy has asked that you make yourself at home. Should you need anything, please call me; I am Grainne."

Ginny looked at the ghost who, unlike many others, looked more golden than gray, and found her name adequate. She appeared to be in her late teens--not much younger than myself, thought Ginny--but her voice spoke of wisdom and resignation.

"Thank you, Grainne." Ginny smiled at the ghost, who merely bowed her head. "Hmmm... Where's my room?"

"Right here. Please, follow me."

As Grainne spoke, one of the windows opened wide, and Ginny was surprised to see that there came no additional sunlight, as she had expected. She followed the ghost servant.

"The guest room has been arranged specially for you, Madame," explained the ghost.

"Mademoiselle," Ginny corrected absentmindedly.

The room was, if possible, even whiter than the antechamber. A bed so large it would have fit the entire Weasley family stood in the center; above it, from the ceiling, dropped white veils like the petals of an upturned lily. In one corner of the room were a low-table, divan and poufs of amber-colored wood and linen; spread throughout the room, piles of cushions complemented the thick carpets, sprawling past the windows onto what appeared to be a balcony. Citrus trees of all sorts mingled their branches into the bedroom as well, and from their leaves hung round Chinese lanterns. The fresh smell of air and orange-blossoms floated everywhere.

"If you wish to access your desk-room, boudoir, or bathroom, simply walk to the door, it will lead you straight to where you want to go," the servant continued to explain. "Shall I show you?"

"No, thank you, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

Grainne appeared puzzled.

"Very well, mademoiselle. The Master invites you to rest until dinner, which will begin at six."

Ginny muttered thanks as the ghost retreated. Only then did she notice that her bags had been taken from her, so she set about looking for her belongings. She walked to the door and it opened unto a closet-room about the size of the kitchen back at the Burrow. Mirrors lined every closet, though she only had to wish each to open for it to do so. Her clothes already lay neatly folded or hung amongst additional items that she was sure didn't belong to her--or hadn't until now. She sighed, stepped out of the room hoping to reach the bathroom, and she was there.

Turquoise walls and floors seemed to have no limit, no junction, save where steps were carved to lead into a pool.

Not a bathtub, a pool. Everything here must be to the measure of their ego.

As excessive as she found of this, she liked the thought of spending her evenings in such a relaxing room. There were copper amphorae and fountains hung all around the room, turning and tipping over in a silent motion, the only sound being the tinkling of water and scented oils into the pool or additional basins. Facing the window--Windows in the bathroom...Talk about not fearing curious neighbors.--, behind the "bathtub", the walls gave way to a wide mirror. The mirror itself was cornered between towers of make-up on the one-hand, and towers of what appeared to hold jewelry on the other.

Ginny found her toiletry beneath stocks of powders and potions. She set about re-dyeing her roots, which already had this red tone that could be fatal to her future as Mrs. Malfoy. After a quick shower, she checked the sundial embedded in the wall. As it was only four, she decided to take a quick nap. A few steps took her to her immense bed, where she slipped between her sheets with unparalleled delight. Sleep took her immediately.

***

A house-elf knocked against the door of Draco's study.

"WHAT?" the lord of the manor asked, his voice laden with annoyance.

"Miss Vassil has arrived, master Malfoy. She has taken a shower and is now sleeping."

"Good. Go away now."

The house-elf scrambled away as rapidly as he could. Draco continued reading the account summaries he had received from his various firms. Finally, he pushed them back with a groan, frustrated. He wanted to go see her, see her as the flesh-and-bones woman she was, resting somewhere in one of his manor's beds. This girl who could become his wife....

Regardless of what she becomes, she is paid for this. Nothing more than a lucky courtesan. A high-class prostitute.

Somehow, reminding himself of this made him feel more composed. He would wait until six. Surely he had enough self-control.

***

Ginny was awoken by a terrified-looking ghost.

"I am sorry, mademoiselle, I am very, very, very sorry to wake you, but--"

"What time is it?" Ginny slurred.

"Five thirty, mademoiselle, I would never have awoken you had dinner--"

"Good Morgana!" Ginny hopped out of bed. "Thank you, Grainne! Shoot, I can't be late. Aaaaaah...."

She ran into her closet, caught a dress, and then disappeared in her bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, Ginny emerged looking as lady-like as ever. Her soft blonde hair tied in a loose side-braid, she felt elegant without excess. She wore a boat-neck dress that hugged the contour of her body, stopping neatly at the knee; the dark fabric complemented the gold of her hair and eyes. Ginny hoped the Manor wasn't so big that her high-heeled sandals would give her blisters by the time she reached the dining room.

"Grainne?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"Where's the dining room?" Ginny asked sheepishly.

"I will take you there, of course."

The ghost floated out of the room, and Ginny followed her. She was taken through a series of dark and high corridors, all wooden panes and carpet. Here and there, the heavily ornamented handle of a door protruded, but Ginny quickly realized memorizing their arrangement would be of no use: they had bifurcated so many times already, walked passed so many doors, that she would never find her way on her own. Resigned, she followed, noting only when they descended a cascade of marble stairs. Grainne eventually left her in front of two doors that were as large as they were high. Ginny stood straight, kept her chin high, and approached her hand to knock. The doors opened.

Draco Malfoy stood facing the bay of open windows. He turned as she entered the Louis XIV salon, all in dark blue and gold. She cared little for the decoration, however, after she took in how he, by far, exceeded the descriptions and pictures she had obtained from magazines. She had had a hard time believing he had grown from the emaciated daddy's boy to the handsome Lord Malfoy. She had barely seen him that night at the cemetery; she did not know exactly what to expect, and could only stare. There was this air of feline aristocracy and casual strength about him, an air that, to her shame, sent chills down her spine.

I'm just like the rest of them, she thought, mortified.

Draco, at the other side of the room, saw her discomfiture and took great pleasure in it. He saw her mannered composure and, behind it, the asymmetry he had perceived when he had chosen her. He saw how easily she could be taken care of, held, protected. He smiled at those alien feelings and dismissed them without a second thought.

"Welcome, Ginevra Vassil," Malfoy said. He took her hand to his lips, kissing it ever so slightly.

"Welcome, Ginevra Weasel"... How did he find out? Ginny panicked. She realized she had misheard and forced herself to calm down. If I can't keep my cool now, what's it going to be like later?

"Mister Malfoy."

She smiled at him. He placed his hand lightly at the small of her back and walked her to the dinner table on the balcony. They had a view of the Malfoy parks, which appeared to have been designed by Truffaut himself. Draco helped Ginny take a seat, and then took his at the end of the rather long table. An uncomfortable silence sat down with them.

She looked around her, awed by the richness of it all, and particularly by the acres of grass and forest that stretched to no end. He sipped his wine.

"Do you like gardens?" Draco asked her suddenly.

She directed her attention back to him.

"Yes, I do. I mean, I'm not used to such a large park, but I used to help my mother in our garden. De-gnoming set aside, it was actually fun taking care of it, growing herbs and flowers."

Gnomes aren't very Eastern European... Draco remembered from Care of Magical Creatures.

Argh... Must not mention anything having to do with low-class background, Ginny remembered from her lessons at Hesperides' Apples. But, a lenient smile having replaced his frown, she chose to pursue the conversation.

"So how big is it?"

"The park? In itself, about a thousand acres. But our grounds go beyond the gates and walls, of course..." Said walls couldn't even be seen from where they were. "...though we rent those terrains to those wishing to build there, or try to grow crops."

"That's enormous!"

Draco smiled, acknowledging the fact.

"I could show you around tomorrow, if you wish."

"Really?"

A splendid grin appeared on her face. He thought that if she was that easy to please, he could enjoy making her happy.

"Certainly. I have a few things to take care of in the morning, but we could spend the afternoon on the grounds."

"That would be lovely."

"Do you know how to ride?"

"A broom?"

Draco laughed a sharp, rapid chuckle that faintly reminded Ginny of her days back at Hogwarts. It wasn't condescending per se, it merely could have been.

"A horse."

"Not at all," Ginny said flatly, blushing but looking at him straight in the eye.

"Then you shall learn, and we will go slowly."

The maitre d'hôtel appeared out of thin air. He bowed slightly and asked them what they would be having tonight. Draco nodded to Ginny. Uncertainly, she turned to the maitre d'hôtel and asked, "What do you have?"

"Anything," he replied, nonplussed.

"Oh. Can I have, hmmm, a salad?"

"Certainly. And as an entree?"

"Uhh... Some duck, please."

"That will be done, Mademoiselle. Master Malfoy?"

"Tuna tartar with vegetable curry, and then lamb cutlets, thyme sauce, with sauteed potatoes."

"Yes, Master Malfoy."

With that, he vanished. Ginny tried to seem blase. She wasn't convincing enough.

"Ginevra, it's easy to see that you are not used to all of this..." He appeared to search for the right word. "...luxury. Should you wish to, it will be easily to become accustomed to it. In fact, it's rather simple: whatever you like, whatever you could possibly want, you may have. All you need to do is ask for it."

Ginny nodded, not knowing what to say.

"Now, what do you like?"

"Books," she answered without hesitation, "books, drawing, and plants. Children," she added instinctively, then blushed. "Music, I guess. Museums. Whatever is beautiful. What about you?"

Draco was not expecting this.

"I--flying... Speed, in general. Books, also. Good wine, and food. Beautiful women." A pointed look to Ginny. "Expensive clothes. Expensive anything," he concluded offhandedly. She had the feeling he had eased himself back into the expected image of himself.

"That's understandable," she said somewhat more irreverently than was befitting.

He arched an eyebrow.

Damn it, I'm supposed to be seducing him, not settling family quarrels.

"I mean--"

"You meant exactly what you meant," Malfoy interrupted her. "I like that. To a certain extent, of course," he added with a sly grin.

Tactfully, their dishes chose that moment to appear.

"Bon appetit," Draco murmured.

He was surprised to hear her answer. "A vous aussi."

"Je crois qu'on peut se tutoyer?"

She laughed.

"A toi, Ginevra," he said, lifting his glass.

"A toi, Draco," she mirrored him, thinking that his name felt sweeter to her lips than the wine.

***

Ginny was proud of herself; she had managed to maintain small-talk during the length of dinner which lasted, with its succession of dishes, desserts, and coffee, until night had fallen. Draco had handed her over to Grainne at the door of the dining room, as he headed toward his study after a chaste baise-main. Ginny was somewhat disappointed at being so promptly dismissed, but thoroughly relieved that Draco, that night, had chosen not to live up to a certain aspect of his reputation.

Grainne led Ginny back to her room, where she offered to help her get ready for bed. Ginny gently sent her away. Alone at last, she once again placed the painting of the clock on her night-table. A spell released her hair from its languorous braid, and Ginny was relieved to feel the curls spilling freely down her back again. She ambled in her room, touching the furniture, paying attention to every detail.

In the room next to hers, Narcissa Malfoy sat, following Ginny's every movement as if they was no wall separating them. The older woman smiled at the young one's awe and innocence. She wondered whether she would be up to the task.

***

The following morning, Ginny awoke to the sound of birds singing. Fresh air blew into her room by way of the open windows. She sat up, stretched, and squeaked.

"Pardon, mademoiselle. I am extremely sorry, I did not mean to--" Grainne stuttered.

"Would you stop apologizing?" Ginny demanded good-naturedly. "I just didn't expect you, that's all. What's up?"

"I was wondering what you would be having for breakfast?"

"Oh, don't worry, I'll go and get food myself."

Grainne looked absolutely horrified.

"Oh no, mademoiselle. Lord Malfoy would be furious if he learned you had gotten breakfast yourself. Please, just tell me what you want and I will fetch it."

"Then could I have a yogurt, and maybe some croissants and orange juice, please?"

"Certainly."

With that, Grainne vanished. Ginny hopped out of the bed and skipped to the terrace of white stone as she had expected. A table and chair of amber wood stood there between the abundant foliage and flowers, seemingly sprung from no pot, but nonetheless covering part of the balcony. From where she stood, Ginny could see the more savage part of the park, with its pond partially engulfed by thick woods.

When Grainne returned, Ginny asked to have breakfast on the balcony rather than in bed. The ghost servant immediately made the necessary adjustments, which included bringing a light shawl for Ginny, who enjoyed her delicious breakfast. When she was done, her plates vanished and Grainne, as Ginny suspected was her habit, reappeared by her side.

"Miss, Lord Malfoy has instructed that you be warned of your agenda during the upcoming week."

Ginny spluttered.

"Agenda?"

It was Grainne's turn to be surprised.

"Why, of course, mademoiselle. There are a few dinners scheduled and Master Malfoy would like to spend some time with you as well. Since he is very busy, however, he can only arrange to meet you at special times. He hopes it will not inconvenience you."

Codename for: do as you're told, woman, thought Ginny.

"Okay, so what does my agenda look like?"

"Tuesday afternoon, visiting the grounds with Master Malfoy. Thursday morning, shopping with Mistress Malfoy--"

"Narcissa?"

"Mistress Malfoy, yes. Thursday evening, dinner at the Notts'." Ginny had been expecting something of the sort, but she couldn't repress a grimace of disgust. "Friday, you will probably be invited to tea by either Mrs. Nott or Mrs. Derby. Friday evening, dinner with Master Malfoy's business partners at the Galileo. During the weekend, Master Malfoy has been invited by another business partner in the South of Italy; he has declared that you may join him if you wish, but that he will understand perfectly if you preferred to remain at the manor. Wednesday, inauguration of the MCCD..."

"Eh?"

"Malfoy Center for Children with Disabilities."

"What disabilities?"

"Squibs, of course. They undergo treatments to help them activate the dormant magic, and once that is done, enhance it to the point where they can rejoin their family."

"And if it doesn't work?"

Grainne looked at Ginny as if the mere idea was outlandish, but the consequence evident.

"They are Obliviated and placed in Muggle families, forever barred from the Wizarding world."

Ginny's mouth curled in repulsion. Their own children? Sordid Pure-Bloods, she thought. How did things ever get so far?

"Of course, that is all they deserve," Ginny managed to say. Grainne seemed noticeably relieved.

"Master Malfoy has also sent this." She gestured to a pile of papers and magazines on one of the consoles in her room. "He said you might want to know who you would be dining and having tea with in the following weeks."

Documentation, How kind. At least he's making sure that I don't make a fool of myself.

"How thoughtful of him," Ginny gushed. "Well then, I'll give this a look later. I'm going to go get dressed, and after, could I get a tour of the Manor?"

"I'm terribly sorry," Grainne apologized, as was her custom, "but I believe Master Malfoy would rather show you around himself, tonight. I may not..."

"Sure, of course. Why am I not surprised," Ginny asked under her breath. "So what do I get to do, waiting for Malfoy?"

Grainne was flustered.

"Okay, never mind. I'll go shower."

And so she did. Since I have all morning, I might as well make good use of my time. This morning, the bathroom was of a tender green, with branches of orchids sparkled throughout the room. Ginny shook her head at such a futile use of money. Nonetheless, she was glad to dip herself in the pool and giggled when bubbles began agitating the surface of the water. She tried to grasp one of the phials suspended above her head. Without her managing to touch it, it tipped slightly, and a stream of jasmine scented liquid trickled in the tub. Voluminous and light foam formed, reaching Ginny's chin. She found a place to sit. Then she rubbed her hands together in the foam, making sure her hands were coated with it, and started blowing huge bubbles. Delighted, Ginny laughed like a little girl.

***

"...next reception should be held soon," Narcissa Malfoy told her son. They were walking down the corridor.

"You're right. When do you think would be a good time?" Draco asked.

"Well, it depends. How long do you want to test her for? We could wait one month, and she would either be wife or absent. But if we do it before, she might not behave appropriately."

"You are the one who said they were the best agency, that their girls were the best trained."

"And they are, which does not necessarily mean much. What did you think of her?"

"She's frank, and terribly innocent, of course. Very plebeian in her attitude with servants. She'll become used to her status though."

"I'm glad she pleased you, at least for--"

A loud, crystalline laugh rang through the air. Narcissa shot Draco an inquisitive glance. He shrugged.

"A child," Draco said, the hint of a smile on his thin lips.

Narcissa kissed him on the cheek, and murmured, "I'll start making arrangements for the reception." Then she returned to her apartments. The lord of the house went to his office. Comfortably seated in the armchair of his desk, he let the stately greens, sepia woods, and leathers push him toward work. As he could not concentrate, he gestured to the tapestry at opposite side of the office. It moved forward, stopping before his desk.

"Ginevra," he enunciated.

Immediately the tapestry's medieval women and unicorns faded away while the green of Ginny's bathroom came into focus. Buried neck deep in the bubbles of her bath, the young woman blew orb after orb from between her thin hands. When she realized she could stick them together, an attempt to build a tower of bubbles filled her with mirth.

In his office, Draco was amused. He was less so when she reached for the top of the soap tower, and her left collarbone and breast peaked from under the layer of foam. He waved his hand sharply as unprecedented warmth crept in his face. The vision of Ginny disappeared. Malfoy finally began reading the reports he had on his desk.

***

When Ginny emerged from her bath, refreshed and lightheaded, she found a beige jacket and riding breeches, a pair of black boots, and riding cap. She matched the pants with a simple white blouse, attached her hair in a thin crown around her face, and once again hid her freckles under foundation. She then headed for the door, determined to at least find the library. She found herself face to face with Narcissa Malfoy, pale and incredibly beautiful in black robes.

"Hello, Ginevra. I am Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother."

"Mrs. Malfoy," Ginny stammered, curtsying. "I am pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," retorted Narcissa. "I am glad to see that Hesperides' Apples responded so quickly to our demand. I do hope your service will be of such quality here."

Ginny blushed but did not avert her gaze at such direct mention of her origins. Narcissa's cool blue eyes examined her, making no pretense of hiding her gesture's offensive nature. She appeared satisfied by the girl's countenance.

"And where were you off to?" Narcissa asked.

"I was trying to find the library. I haven't brought reading material with me and miss it."

"So you went looking for some yourself? Being curious is not always very safe," Narcissa admonished her.

Bloody hell. That's twice in two days, Ginny realized. I should be more careful.

"What about the documents my son sent you on the different families you'll be meeting soon? Is that not reading material?"

Ginny felt torn between the desire to disappear under ground and stick Narcissa's patronizing tone down her throat. She tried to keep her tone polite when she answered, "It helps me to situate the people I'm reading about. My understanding of Great Britain's Wizarding families, politics, and current situation being limited, I was hoping to find a broader picture, and then place them in context."

Narcissa liked Ginny's repartee.

"Follow me," she said, wheeling around so that her appreciation could not be seen.

Ginny had no time to savor her small victory. She tried memorizing the way to the library, and was happy to see that she could probably find her way back. Narcissa left her in front of the library.

"If you know what's good for you, do not go 'fact-hunting' in the Green Area. Novels are in the Blue Area, poetry in the Orange. As to juicy pieces on the Notts, you may find some in the Yellow Area. Lunch will be at twelve sharp."

Ginny pushed the doors of the library open. She held back a sigh of delight upon discovering the rows of bookcases that touched the high ceiling. A semi-circular veranda encased two wide armchairs and pouf of dark velvet, and there were a few desks equipped with lamp and multiple shelves. Ginny immediately went for the Blue Area, not wishing to be found at fault in the Green Area.

What could possibly be there that I'm not supposed to see? She nonetheless wondered. Probably Lucius' devilish books... Or maybe...proof of the family's Death Eater activity?

It took her a superhuman amount of restraint to not go ferreting. The extensive collection of books resting in the library eventually managed to catch her attention, so that she spent the better part of the morning marveling at the titles rather than reading any. An invisible clock, aware of her obligations, graciously reminded her of the time at a quarter to twelve.

***

"Draco tells me you like to paint."

"I have actually never gotten around to painting, though I do enjoy drawing. I feel that watercolors are the next step. They seem like an appropriate transition between charcoal and oil-paint."

"There's also acrylic," Draco pointed out, looking thoroughly bored by the turn the conversation was taking.

"Acrylic? Not as fluid as water-color, but not as rich as oil-paint; it is really a common, bastardized paint if you ask me," Narcissa said.

"Well, I have tried neither. I suppose I'm bound to find out, eventually."

"How do you feel about sculpture, then? I myself enjoy the product, but the whole process--"

Ginny was surprised to find Narcissa so thrilled by manual arts. Since it enabled Draco's mother to momentarily drop the frigid countenance of Malfoy matron, the young woman eagerly launched herself in the discussion. The arrival of desert came like a divine intervention for Draco. As Narcissa suggested that they go have tea in the salon, Draco objected.

"Really, mother, we should not linger," he said, managing to appear contrite. "Ginevra has to learn how to ride, and if we want to visit the property, we'll need the entire afternoon."

"You don't know how to ride?" Narcissa asked, shocked.

"Well, we couldn't exactly affo--" Ginny began without shame.

"So we'll get going," Draco cut her off. "Mother, good afternoon."

He seized Ginny by the elbow, leaving her to smile hurriedly at Narcissa as she followed, and dragged her out of the dining room. Narcissa stared pensively at the wine glass.

"James will take you to the stables. I will be right over."

Indeed, the ghost butler materialized next to Ginny and bowed, inviting her to follow him. She was growing tired of the servants' obsequious bowing but knew better than to tell him not to bother. James noiselessly led her along the usual succession of corridors and staircases. The stables were, as every other part of the Manor, of gigantic proportions and as picturesque as she could have imagined them. Even the hay seemed golden, and the wooden stalls and beams gleamed from being so polished.

Ginny knew nothing about horses. In fact, she didn't know much about what was expensive, but if she found something beautiful, then she assumed it to be of good value. By those standards, much like by their actual price, Malfoy's horses were of great value. She petted them one after the other, admiring the luster of their coat, the roundness of their flanks, and the nervousness in their movement. One of the animals particularly caught her attention. Of a tender beige hue, its head and paws were lighter, almost white; the horse wasn't as strong as the others but appeared energetic and nimble. Ginny patted its head and neck fondly.

"It's a good pick," Malfoy's voice rang in the stables.

She turned to face him, finding him decked in riding clothes. She liked the contrast of his white shirt and black riding breeches. He held his riding cap under his arm, but hung it on a hook, grabbing two quirts instead.

"What's his name?"

"That's Suède. He's a calm one. Let's wait outside while the elves deck him and Mona."

Ginny followed him through the stable door, which led immediately onto the grounds. The impeccably cut grass felt elastic and thick under their feet. The air had this crisp and cool quality to it that reminded Ginny of some mornings back at the Burrow when her mom forcefully sent her to pick berries from their miserable hedge.

The Burrow... Oh, mum...

A pang of sorrow violently shot through her. It was all she could do to avoid crying. Beside her, Draco saw her face fall suddenly and her eyes glass over. He had been with women long enough, and had made them cry often enough, that he braced himself for at least a single, valiantly erased tear--those were the ones he hated most. But not one drop escaped from her momentarily closed eyelids. The soft thumps of their horses' hooves kept Ginny in check.

She turned around and stared at the horse, fully equipped, looking quite taller than what she had seen earlier.

This is going to be amusing, she thought bitterly.

"Need a hand?" Draco asked.

"I might, yes," she answered, grateful.

She stepped in the stirrup and pushed. Draco, his hands on her hips, accompanied her movement, hoisting her on the horse.

"Thank you!" Ginny said. "Wow, everything seems so small from here...."

"That's what it feels like, being a Malfoy," Draco said, agilely climbing on his horse. He was smiling slightly, but his eyes were dead serious. Ginny did not know what to say. Draco pushed his horse forward; Ginny's followed slowly.

"How's that for a pace? Think you can stay on the horse?"

She made a face at him.

"Sure I can. It doesn't seem nearly as hard as riding a broom," Ginny added as condescendingly as she could.

"Quidditch?"

"Of course. You're not the only one who enjoys speed, though I prefer the Chaser position to being Seeker. The bursts of speed are rarer."

Seeker? I never told her I used to play Seeker back at Hogwarts--and that was the only time I ever played Quidditch in public....

"But the thrill is so much more intense when you're fighting, one on one, for the Snitch. It's not about the team anymore, it's only about who, between the two Seekers, is the fastest, the most accurate, the best."

"The whole point of Quidditch is that it's a collective sport," Ginny retorted. She appeared amused by his reaction, but her ideas on her favorite sport were long set. "Whether in victory or in defeat, it's not about who caught the Snitch or let a few Quaffles slip past. Coordination and entente are what make it such an amazing sport. At least I think so," she quickly amended, lest he find her too assertive.

"I'm sure both our opinions are valid," Draco conceded politely, looking like Ginny couldn't have proffered a stupider absurdity.

"It's just a matter of education," she countered, shrugging.

Silence slipped between them as they crossed the grassy area of the park. Ginny's eyes devoured the landscape; Draco glanced furtively at her.

There's something familiar in her face... What is it?

Their horses, under Draco's subtle guidance, made their way toward the woods. As soon as they had slipped between the trees, the air got noticeably more humid, almost chilly. Ginny appeared not to notice, making no move to cover herself or cast a warming spell as Draco knew Pansy would have done. If anything, the woman at his side appeared at home in the woods, holding out her hand now and then to caress a tree trunk.

"You have beautiful trees," she said. "It's a pleasant sight."

Draco nodded noncommittally, well aware of how pleasant the sight was; her pretty face bore a calm, happy smile. Because of the narrowness of the path, they were riding very close to each other. The occasional brushing of their legs sent characteristic chills through Draco's body.

"Oh look," Ginny said, oblivious to the effect she was having on Draco, "a clearing! We could have a picnic."

Draco snorted.

"A picnic? That's preposterous."

He did not bother to elaborate, finding the reason obvious; Ginny paid him no attention. She had been distracted by the sound of dribbling water.

"And there's a stream, too. This is going to be so much fun!"

"Oh yes," Draco said sarcastically, "eat and bathe amidst toads, mosquitoes, and other animals. How charming."

Ginny shrugged, having dealt with Malfoy's contempt for longer than he knew, but determined to enjoy, if alone, the charming surroundings provided by the woods. Draco, obviously bored by the visit of a property he knew by heart, gave her facts to chew on. Seeing her lack of interest, he led their horses out of the woods, again unto the great lawns, past alleys of geometrically cut bushes and ornamented fountains, back to the stables. Draco helped Ginny off Suède as easily as if she had been a child. Instead of diving back in the polished shade of the Manor, however, Draco took her around the house, by foot this time. She marveled at the pristine statues, columns and volutes that adorned the already impressive façade, until a brutal explosion of colors took her breath away.

"My mother's garden," Draco said simply, pleased with her reaction but looking as placid as ever.

Whereas the Manor and its grounds reflected the triumph of man over nature, here vegetation let its creativity run loose. Plants shot from the soil, poured from pots, trickled from trellises, with flowers and leaves bursting open like stars and trees so covered in fruit their branches hung to the ground. A sugary scent floated, so pungent and rich it was almost tangible.

'Magnificent," Ginny murmured, dazed.

"The elves can tend it according to your wishes," Draco offered pleasantly. Ginny's laugh caught him by surprise.

"Tend it for me?" she giggled.

"Of course, yes," he snapped.

"Don't you think I can do it on my own? Where would the pleasure be if I let house elves take care of the plants in my place?"

"You get dirty," Draco said, clearly disgusted.

Preposterous, she remembered his saying earlier. Dirty... Filthy... So many things that he deems inferior, unworthy of him.

"But you get sweaty and muddy playing Quidditch, too. Would you rather someone else played instead of you?"

"Quidditch is a noble sport, Ginevra. Working in mud is not," Draco said sternly.

She knew better than to press the point. As he showed her his mother's garden--or his mother's house-elves' garden, as Ginny from now on thought of it--she dutifully and repeatedly expressed admiration for the entire property. More than once she bit back a cheeky remark, having quickly realized he did not take to impertinence. She slipped back into the role of Ginevra Vassil. Poised, refined, she spoke no more of picnic, gardening, or eating oranges right from the tree, and stuck to the polite conversation he could expect from a member of Hesperides' Apples.

Draco faintly perceived a change in her attitude. He couldn't bring himself to figure out which young woman, of the bright and direct, or the sophisticated one, he preferred.

***

They had dinner on the terrace again. Ginny, who had looked up the most delicious and complex dishes imaginable in the Malfoy library, ordered gourmet dishes from the butler that night, agreeably surprising Draco. She drank easily and with pleasure, so that by the end of the evening she had regained the ingenuous confidence lost earlier that afternoon. However, he could not manage to stir her from acceptable topics of discussion, and didn't find out additional details about her past life. And though he had promised himself he would not care, that if she suited him he would be satisfied with the new woman the agency had sent, he found himself longing to know more about her past. In fact, rather than knowing more about her, he wanted to know things about her that she would not want him to know.

The clock struck eleven.

"Ginevra, I hope you will forgive me. I have some business I have yet to take care of and--" He trailed off delicately.

"Of course," she replied, her tone as sweet and unctuous as his had been courteous. "Thank you for spending the day with me. It was a delightful time."

"Likewise. Good night."

"Good night."

Again, he escorted her to the door of the dining room. A baise-main, and they were off in separate directions. This time, Grainne did not show up, but torches lit the way back to Ginny's room. She appreciated the gesture.