Hesperides' Apple

December, 1998

Samarqand, Uzbekistan.

Ginny was only too happy to hear Draco suggest a nap after lunch. Proserpina had been ranting about "filthy Mudbloods," looking to Narcissa for support, and the anger churning in Ginny's chest had threatened more than once to leap out, a fact only increased by Cyrus' obsequiousness. Draco, paler than snow, was evidently livid to see his warning disregarded. Ginny hoped that the arrival of the rest of the family would be enough to dilute the increasing tension. Draco took a shower and walked into the room to find Ginny half asleep, her face buried in her arms. She gave him a faint smile when he emerged, surrounded by a cloud of steam, wearing only a towel around his waist.

"You're going to hold me to my earlier promises of shower fun, aren't you?" she asked with such grogginess that he realized he may have awakened her.

Draco kneeled on the bed and lounged by Ginny's side. He smelled like mint and wood. She let the clean scent of her husband envelop her. He perceived the desire his presence aroused in her, but saw it dampened by fatigue.

"No, as a matter of fact, I won't," he murmured, placed her head on his chest, and then closed his eyes. "I need to rest, too. It was a tiring game."

Ginny stirred and propped herself up on one arm.

"Speaking of which," she began, her voice suddenly venomous, "how dare you sell one of my kisses without asking for my consent?"

"Doesn't matter," he said gruffly.

"It matters enough for you to punch your own cousin about it! What if I didn't want to kiss him?"

"I should hope not. Besides, I wasn't going to lose."

"That's not the point, Draco. I am not yours to dispose of!"

"Look, I just needed to put him back in his place--"

"Namely away from me, your trophy wife? I don't think so!"

She failed to perceive the anger boiling inside him.

"Oh, really?" he asked coldly. "Would you like to know how much I paid for you to Hesperides' Apples? Hera Cornelli had never seen such a sum offered for one of her trophy wives, I can tell you that much."

Ginny's eyes widened in outrage as she momentarily forgot that this was part of her plan and felt the blow strongly. She sat up angrily. His muscular arm brought her down as easily as if she had been a tennis ball. She squirmed but was effectively pinned against him.

"You know I didn't mean to bring this up," he said softly, almost sadly. "All I'm saying is that I saw Cyrus getting lusty-eyed whenever you were around, and that I reacted accordingly."

"Well, you just can't..." She tried to push him away. "You can't do things like that..." She writhed. "...without asking me first." A pant. "Let go of me."

"No."

He loved to feel her struggle against him, much like when she tempted him, surrendered to him, played with him... The possibilities were endless. She tried to pull away and he tightened his grip.

"You should stop moving like this, or I will have to hold you to your promises of shower fun."

Ginny immediately stopped fighting. Draco, his face buried in her hair, smirked. He promptly fell asleep. Alternately angered and reassured by his inescapable embrace, she, too, let sleep claim her already yielding body. The room glimmered golden around their white and blonde bodies until the sun dropped in its course and the temperature became agreeable. Draco was the first to wake, startled to have slept so peacefully. The sight of Ginny's harmonious features, particularly calm and soft when bathed in sleep, pleased him. He thought of the upcoming evening and sighed. It had been a long time since he'd last seen his cousins; some of them weren't even born when he had come to Samarqand as a child. And then there was the elusive, aunt; the one who had vanished for a few years and who, according to Narcissa's earlier revelation, had died a few months ago, leaving behind a daughter. Said daughter had always been isolated from the rest of the family.

"Secrets, secrets," he murmured pensively, not surprised to find that they plagued every family, including his. Blaise's most recent owl had informed him of Ginevra's visit to Gringotts, and since Draco had been present when Narcissa had explained to her that she did not need money for her shopping, he couldn't help but wonder why she would, nonetheless, go to Gringotts or stop at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Blaise's succinctness was exasperating.

"Ginevra, wake up," Draco whispered against the soft skin of her throat. She moaned in reply but turned toward him and hugged him; however, she slept on. "Ginevra, we have to get ready for dinner."

She didn't budge. Draco trailed his hand down her neckline and let it rest on her breast, knowing all too well how sensitive she was there, particularly in the last few weeks. She squirmed. He flattened his palm against the peak, rubbing it slowly until she moaned again on an altogether different tone.

"Nooooo..."

"Ginevra..." he growled.

Ginny opened an eye, then the other, and glared at him sleepily. He kissed her nose, making her momentarily cross-eyed as he neared his face to hers.

"Wear the plum dress with gold jewelry," he said, then hopped out of bed to find suitable clothes.

She lingered in the state between slumber and wakefulness for a few minutes, but Draco's absence left her feeling unprotected. At last she rose, feeling cranky and particularly uneager to endure dinner with the entire Umayyad family.

Let the Weasleys' legendary patience and self-control be of use tonight, she thought wryly and headed for the bathroom. She quickly found the dress Draco had been talking about--a strapless cocktail dress of a deep plum shade with a particularly long slit in the side that revealed her legs when she walked. Ginny was annoyed to find that she had put on some weight, as the dress clung to her very tightly. Though she understood that Draco would not be displeased to see that, she couldn't help but feel that the rest of his family might find it inappropriate.

Then again, only Cyrus would notice.

A shudder coursed through her. She tied her hair in a side, rather loose braid and slipped a golden serpent up her left arm. She complemented the bracelet with simple golden rings, bangles, and oriental earrings that Shehzin had given her. Upon stepping out of the bathroom, she felt refreshed. The look that Draco-- clad in black robes that fitted him to perfection-- gave her filled her with satisfaction. He kissed her hand playfully.

"Whoever you may be, gorgeous, come with me quickly before my wife returns."

Ginny swatted him on the arm.

"So it's that easy to tempt you, is it? A curve-fitting dress with a slit up to the navel and you're disavowing your wife?"

"Up to the navel?" he asked, his eyes sparkling. He slid his hand toward her thigh. "And I thought it stopped mid-thigh..."

"Back off," she chastised him. "Be good or you won't have any dessert."

"Oh, I'll be good alright," he retorted slyly. "So good you'll keep asking for more."

"Don't I anyway?"

He grinned broadly, and she smirked, amused at how easy it was to flatter him. They made their way toward the grand salon where Belial, Proserpina, and Cyrus were welcoming their relatives. A tall and skinny man who bore a close resemblance to Belial was talking energetically to Narcissa. Draco instinctively led Ginny to where his mother was.

"Ginevra, Draco, this is Sut, Belial's second youngest brother--darling, I don't know if you remember Uncle Sut and Aunt Sophia?"

"I most certainly do," Draco said, embracing his aunt and uncle. He added conspiratorially, "You were the only ones whose names I could pronounce."

Sophia Umayyad emitted a throaty laugh which shook her black tresses and made the beads caught in them click against each other. She was a tall and shapely woman with skin like melted chocolate, whose voice rang strong and whose convictions were even stronger.

"I remember when your father punished you for claiming that my boys' names were 'crude'. They'd give you a thrashing themselves now if ever you said that!"

"And I would deserve it," Draco admitted good-naturedly.

"Mahrem, Beher, this is Draco, Proserpina's nephew, and Ginevra, his wife," Sut introduced the Malfoys to two athletic young men.

They exchanged greetings. Ginny was happy to notice that both men's looks were frank and their smiles candid. She thought their accent was American, a fact that was confirmed when Draco asked how it was, growing up in New York City. Beher was more eager to respond than Mahrem, whose responses were poised and calm. Neither looked his age, as they were thirteen and fifteen, respectively, but appeared to be adults. A new set of wizards arrived, and Ginny, Mahrem, and Beher exchanged sorrowful looks. "On with the politics", they seemed to say. Draco was too well-mannered to not put on a charming smile as he dragged Ginny toward the newcomers.

"Zalambur, it's been a while," he exclaimed to the shapely man in front of him. Zalambur Umayyad wheeled around, his dark eyes gleaming, his face thick with a jet-black beard and mustache.

"Draco, my boy! How you've grown! Hasn't he, Scheherazade?" Zalambur asked his wife. The woman nodded and smiled brightly.

"Uncle, Aunt, this is Ginevra, my wife," Draco said. "How have you been? How are the kids?"

"Now, now, Draco. I'll have you know that my Shafan is twelve years old," Zalambur said proudly. "He isn't a kid anymore!"

Scheherazade shot a surreptitious glance toward two women standing in the shadows.

"What about Salome and Balkis? How are they?"

"The usual," Zalambur said dismissively. "At least they'll be of some use tonight, what with Shezbeth's little girls," he spat the word, "and all. Come, we men have things to talk about."

Draco gave Ginny an apologetic glance, but, well aware of his uncle's misogyny, thought better than to have her endure his discourse. Ginny was left with Scheherazade. The elder woman's face was marred by age lines, though her eyes were bright and her hair thick like a lion's mane. As soon as Zalambur had turned his back, her smile faltered and became softer. She gazed at her daughters fondly, then nodded to Ginny, looking meaningfully at the two women who remained in the background.

"Are these your daughters?" Ginny asked.

Scheherazade merely nodded, and with a gesture of her little hand, drew an imaginary line from Ginny to the women.

"I'll, uh... Just go introduce myself, then," Ginny said, puzzled by Scheherazade's reticence to speak. Her suggestions caused a serene smile to bloom on the elder woman's lips.

So Ginny walked over to the women, whose eyes remained fixed to the ground. Their heads were covered with shawls that matched their robes, both of which left bare only their faces and hands.

"Hi," Ginny said brightly. They looked up, startled. "I'm Ginevra, Draco's wife."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said the woman who appeared to be the eldest. "I am Salome."

"And I am Balkis. Delighted to make your acquaintance."

They kissed awkwardly.

"I just met your mum and dad. It must be nice to have such a big family."

"Yes, it is truly a blessing," Balkis said, keeping her voice low.

"So, what do you do in life?" Ginny asked.

"We study," Salome said.

"Really? That's lovely. What are you studying?"

"Dance," Balkis said. "Music. Raising children."

"Gardening. Hosting."

"Making your man happy?" Ginny added, thinking their comments to be sarcastic.

The sisters nodded calmly. Ginny felt like she had just stepped out of a cold shower into a glacial bathroom. At that moment, three little girls threw themselves at Salome and Balkis. Their eyes were slanted and their skin much whiter than the elder women's.

"Salome, Balkis, it is good to see you," came a voice from Ginny's side. She turned to see a beautiful woman wearing a ruby-red kimono. Her raven black hair, porcelain face, and clothing made her look otherworldly.

"Likewise," Salome answered, and there was a genuine smile on her face as she patted one of the little girls' head.

"You must be Ginevra," the woman continued, turning to Ginny. "I am Ba Li Nu, Shezbeth's wife. I am pleased to meet you at last."

Ginny was surprised to feel Ba Li Nu's round abdomen when she embraced the woman. A fourth little girl, apparently a few years older than the others but with similar features, was busy explaining to Balkis the happenings of her first year at school.

"Congratulations," Draco said to Shezbeth as they clapped each other on the back. "That's quite a family you have there."

"Thank you. They are my life and hope," Shezbeth said calmly, using the protective expression as if to ward off evil. His eyes were soft behind his glasses, though his set jaw and strong hands denoted determination.

Four girls and a fifth baby on the way? Draco thought, peering from the other side of the room. I wouldn't have guessed Shezbeth to be as male-oriented as Zalambur.

"So, how have affairs been going?" Sut asked Zalambur. "I've been in America for so long that I barely know what you're up to these days."

"Things are going well, my brother," Zalambur said with a satisfied grin. "Being in the Ministry definitely helps for, ah--affairs," he let out smoothly. Draco, though he was not well acquainted with his uncle's dealings, knew that there was more at stake than his work as Minister of Defense or owner of many Uzbek markets. "What about yourself? Did all of your students graduate successfully?"

"Most of them did, yes," Sut answered, looking pleased. "Though I'll have to admit that those scrolls you sent gave them a hard time, Shezbeth."

"Ah, well, you know how it is with Babylonian writing. You can't expect to be a translator without being able to decipher it perfectly. I'm glad they were of some use, though. Ba Li Nu was very reluctant to have them sent over."

"She was, was she? I suppose you eventually showed her who was the Lord of the House," Belial said, half-jokingly.

"You could say that," Shezbeth conceded. He failed to add that, in that case, the Lord of the House had treated the Lady of the House to a weekend in the Easter Islands to study the monoliths there. "And how has it been with Izha?"

"She's well," Sut said, his voice suddenly somber. "The loss of her mother was quite a blow--"

"As it was to all of us," Zalambur interjected.

"Peace on her soul," Belial added, and the other men nodded.

"But she gets along with the boys very well, and they found in her the older sister they never had. The Cosmopolitan School of Magic has accepted her and she's been pursuing her studies--"

"You let Haiwa's daughter study? In a public university?" Zalambur said severely.

"It would appear, from the documentation left by Mother, that Haiwa always encouraged Izha to get an education. I hear she's a good midwife--" Shezbeth countered.

"I suggest," Belial interrupted, feeling the friction mount between Sut and Shezbeth on the one hand, and Zalambur on the other, "that we move on to the dining room. There's quite a feast awaiting us."

The men therefore headed for the dining room, shortly followed by their wives, who ushered the children before them. Ginny, who had been speaking with Ba Li Nu, slipped next to Draco and pulled him to a corner.

"Ba Li Nu said Scheherazade and Zalambur met through Hesperides' Apples."

"Yes, they did. That's how Mother got the idea for me."

"And he married her, despite the fact that she was a mute?" Ginny asked. There was an edge to her voice, as if she wanted to lead him into saying something he did not intend.

"It's called love at first sight, Ginevra, not at first conversation. Apparently, she was born like that."

"She wasn't," Ginny said flatly. "At Hesperides' Apples, Hera Cornelli always reminded us of the different women who had married eminent and wealthy men." Draco sniggered. "Scheherazade was part of those, and you know why? Because of her voice, Draco. She could have sung any bird to shame, and she was the best story-teller anyone had ever heard of."

"That's lovely," Draco said, trying to pull Ginny toward the dining room from which wafted the scent of roasted lamb.

"He did this to her. Zalambur. Did you see the way he treats his daughters? I wouldn't be surprised if he was to blame for her 'birth defect'."

"So?" Draco said. "He's her husband, isn't he? What happened to right of life and death over one's woman?"

Ginny looked at him, surprised. She clearly hadn't expected such a reasoning from him.

"If he did anything to her, she must have deserved it. Who knows? Maybe she was..." He looked at her meaningfully. "...plotting behind his back?"

"She deserved it? I can't believe you would say that," Ginny ranted. She failed to understand the warning, horrified as she was, at the thought of anyone being punished in such a way. "That man is--"

"My uncle. Besides, you do not know whether he has done this, so I would suggest you watch your temper and keep your mouth shut if he comes at you with the butter knife."

Ginny snapped her mouth shut and angrily walked away. Draco was by her in a few steps. Smirking, he took her arm, and they entered the living room, the very image of the perfect couple. The Umayyads were taking their seats when Draco felt Ginny grow tense. Her grip on his arm tightened and the sidelong glance he gave her revealed that she was whiter than snow. Her eyes were closed and her mind like an egg, sealed and protected.

He has a daughter.

Had Draco looked a few seconds earlier, he would have caught his wife's appraising stare and the way it hitched when her eyes fell on Izha Umayyad. Though the woman's eyes were bright like aquamarines, her razor-sharp features, sunken cheeks, and jet-black hair left little to the imagination. Ginny, unwilling to wonder how Tom Riddle had gotten Haiwa Umayyad pregnant, shut her eyes and wished that everything would vanish, that she could be back at the Burrow with her family, Harry, and Hermione celebrating Christmas in a homely fashion.

But nothing of the sort happened, and Draco escorted her to her seat. Ginny felt her heart beating in her temples, and the noise and pressure only increased when Izha Umayyad took the seat across hers. Draco nodded to Izha, who gave him a serene smile. Her wrists and neck were very thin, Draco noticed, and when Izha tucked a strand of her interminable, black hair behind her ear, she revealed a mark carved across her cheek: a cross surrounded by a circle. (1) No one in the family seemed to notice or care. The appetizers materialized on the crystal and porcelain ornamented table.

"Bon appetit," Proserpina said, raising her glass.

They all raised their glasses in response--Cyrus' hand brushed Ginny's as he did so-- reiterated the blessing, then began to eat. The table was long enough for the entire family to sit, so the children were included and expected to participate in conversations. Their manners were impeccable, even more so than some of the adults'--Zalambur showed little grace in shoving immeasurable quantities of food in his mouth, and his brothers, Cyrus, and Shafan, were little more well-mannered. Mahrem and Beher, though they clearly longed to stuff themselves as well, were kept in check by Sophia's warning glare. The women ate like birds. Ginny kept casting glances at Izha, until she found Haiwa's daughter beaming at her. She was taken aback by the beauty and warmth of the smile, for it made Izha's face glow with peaceful contentment and breathed goodness like Ginny had never seen. She looked down. The sight of such a smile on the face of Tom Riddle's daughter was beyond her understanding.

Dinner went by rather swiftly, punctuated by the apparition of additional dishes and the tinkling of silverware against the plates. Ginny, seated between Cyrus and Beher, flatly ignored the eldest and listened to Beher talk about life in New York City. She found him bright and amusing, and extremely respectful of his mother--a fact that comforted her in her opinion that males issued from a patriarchal family need not necessarily be pricks like Cyrus, Shafan, or even, at times, Draco.

Draco, for his part, was seated between Narcissa--an uncommon gesture of kindness on the part of Proserpina, who had come up with the table plan--and Salome. His attempts to engage the latter in a conversation resulted in her blushing like a school-girl, keeping her eyes fastened to the lamb cutlets in her plate, and answering platitudes in an uncertain voice. He found her bashful and dull, and without a second thought turned to his mother, failing to feel compassionate for this girl whom etiquette had smothered. Occasionally, he glanced over at Ginny, whose attempts to shun Cyrus were skillfully avoided by him. The conversation appeared to go on between Cyrus and Beher, with Ginny occasionally participating and eyeing Cyrus' arm with concern as it casually wrapped around her chair.

Dinner ended as the clock struck half past eleven. Proserpina casually ushered her guests into the main salon, where an imposing Christmas tree rose, its branches sagging from the heaps of decorations piled upon them. Naturally, the men stuck together, standing to one side of the room and discussing as if the world's destiny rested upon their shoulders. Shafan stood self-importantly by his father, who was clearly the most emphatic about the women being kept away, whereas Beher and Mahrem, quickly bored by talks of politics, economy, and cigars, had wandered off. Salome and Balkis kept an eye on Ba Li Nu and Shezbeth's daughters. Sophia and Narcissa were chatting, with Scheherazade listening attentively. Ginny, seeing Draco monopolized by his uncles, started to head for the cluster of mothers.

"You knew my father, didn't you?" came a very soft, very tender voice.

Ginny slowly turned around, keeping her instincts in check, and found herself facing Izha Umayyad. She looked so much like the Tom that had been so gentle with Ginny that it hurt. A guilty bitterness swelled in her throat, quickly rinsed by a simple and fear-inducing question.

How did she know?

"It was easy to see you recognized him in me," Izha continued, eyeing Ginny with concern.

"Are you a Legilimens or something?" Ginny snapped.

"No, but fear writes your thoughts on your face," she said.

She took a step closer to Ginny, who was prevented from recoiling by a mixed feeling of uncertainty and decency. Nothing in Izha's words or gestures was in any way reminiscent of Tom Riddle's evil, and therefore, Ginny could not bring herself to act in such a way toward a young woman who looked, despite her parentage, like goodness made human. Izha took Ginny's hand in hers.

Peering into her eyes, Izha said, "I do not know what he did to you, but I am sorry, and ashamed of it. I just--" Her voice faltered, and when she spoke again, it was limpid like spring water. "I wouldn't want you to fear me."

She smiled to Ginny so sweetly that for a moment, Ginny believed there was no way Izha could be related to the man who had become Voldemort. Izha walked away slowly, and Ginny, still chilled by the evidence of Tom Riddle's line living on, quelled her apprehension and caught up with Izha.

"Your... father has caused me and my family harm beyond what I thought possible," she said calmly. "I know I cannot hold you responsible, though I can't account for the, uh... repulsion I may have displayed. Seeing him here-- again, in this room tonight-- living on through you, was a shock. I'm sorry it was so obvious."

Izha turned around, that same, blissful smile inundating her entire face. She exuded peace and calm like fire does warmth.

"Mum had warned me," Izha explained calmly. "I just didn't expect Draco's wife to have met such an evil man as my father. Mum said few people knew him when he still looked like me."

"Yes, I just happened to be particularly unlucky."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

Casually, they had exited the salon, as if speaking of such things could not be done in a room filled with children and nosy adults. Ginny could hardly believe what she was doing, and yet Izha inspired her with trust and compassion that seemed to run deeper than her terror of Tom Riddle. She was surprised to find herself seated in a secluded little room, carpeted with blue and silver like a starry night. Surprisingly, she felt safer now than she had during dinner, what with Cyrus' breath constantly in her neck as he spoke and his fingers touching hers more often than was necessary. Izha sat in front of her in silence, ever smiling, peering into Ginny's eyes in a way that reminded a lot of Molly.

"So how did your mother and him--"

"Mum was at some friends' summer house in Albania," Izha said. "I think they met at a dinner given in his honor. He had managed to rid the town of a werewolf, I think. Fenir, Fren, or something, was his name. Mum told me she fell under his charm immediately--"

Like so many others... Wonder how many innocent young girls he managed to charm...

"And apparently, it was reciprocal."

"You know, I don't mean to be rude, but with Tom--"

Izha waved the objection calmly, without losing the air of bliss that floated about her.

"He asked her to marry him."

Ginny's eyes widened in disbelief.

"But, Tom, I've only known you for a month!" Haiwa said uncertainly, pushing a strand of her wavy hair away from her face.

"I've only known you for a month as well, and I'm still here, asking you to marry me," Tom retorted sharply. Though he was clearly taken aback by her reaction, the gentleness that imbued every inch of her kept him in check.

"Well, I... I don't know what our parents would say and we--"

"I care little for your parents' approval, mine are dead, and this is between you and me alone."

"I know," Haiwa went on, putting her hand on his face, and Tom pressed his own hand on hers passionately, "but it really is too soon."

A spark of pitch-black anger swelled in his already dark eyes while his fingers tightened around her small hand. Oblivious to the pain he was inflicting, Haiwa looked at him fondly.

"I could find a job here," she suggested. "Stay around for a while. And if in the end you still want to marry me--"

"I want to marry you now, and I will want to marry you a month, a year, a decennia from now," Tom said solemnly. Though his words sounded grave for the situation, anyone who knew Tom well could have told that he meant them. Few would ever admit, however, to knowing Tom Riddle well, if at all.

"So let's try this. I'll remain in Eltvo, working, or maybe studying, and then we'll see. Can you wait for me?" Haiwa said calmly.

Tom looked at her possessively, contemplating for a second the idea of forcing her to stay with him forever. An alien and unexpected feeling prevented him from menacing Haiwa, something he would have resorted to had she been anyone else and had he felt any other way toward her.

"Yes," he gritted out. "Will you at least be with me? Live with me?"

She shook her head, an apologetic smile on her lips, one he longed to erase with a kiss.

"My family wouldn't take it well if I lived with a man."

Tom nodded slowly, his teeth clenched and pools of shadows looming around his eyes.

"As you wish. I love you," he said coldly, and pulling such a truth from his twisted self hurt him. Caring for her was painful. Not having her was painful. Respecting her will was becoming increasingly hard. Haiwa beamed, a sight which immediately healed the wound his confession had caused.

"I think I do, too," she said, throwing her arms around his neck.

"So she married him?" Ginny asked, shocked.

Izha shook her head, and a faint shadow of sadness momentarily flew across her face. Her birthmark glared, black against her milk-white skin.

"Dad kept putting pressure on her to marry him. She said sometimes he scared her. At the same time, Grandmother and Grandfather wanted her to come home. One night, she witnessed something he hadn't meant for her to see. Mum never told me what it was; she just said it was evil beyond anything she hoped I would ever run elbows with. In any case, she was horrified and ran away."

"Oh, no," Ginny whispered, imagining what Tom's reaction must have been and forgetting that she had lived until this day.

"He caught up with her, of course. Threatened her family and those she loved with torture and death if she refused to come back to him."

"Stay back, Tom!" Haiwa screamed, haggard with horror and exhaustion.

"Haiwa," he growled. His eyes, stained with red, narrowed dangerously.

"How could you? You--you disgust me," she panted. "Now get away from me or I will not be alive by the time you reach me."

The young woman held a sickle-shaped knife against her throat.

"Don't do anything silly," Tom said shrilly, his voice was suddenly tense. "Put the knife down, and come with me." She shook her head. "Come with me, Haiwa, or your family--"

"Leave us alone! Leave me alone!"

Against the knife's blade, blood trickled. Tom made a step toward Haiwa.

"By the child of yours I bear, Tom, one more step and I will slit my throat."

"Dad knew Mum well enough to understand that she would do it. Maybe it's the fact that she would rather kill her unborn child than go back to him, though there was nothing she wanted more than a baby... He stepped back."

"In the years to come, look for me, Haiwa. Watch and listen, and know that every death caused by Lord Voldemort is a spot of blood on your hands. I loved you."

"So she went home, and that's how I came to be. Me and my birthmark that started out as a few black freckles but that darkened and took a shape as my Dad kept causing trouble. Mum quickly figured out that every freckle was a person he killed."

"Then seven of those spots on your cheek are all that's left of my family."

Izha blanched.

"Seven?"

Ginny nodded sadly. Tears welled up in Izha's eyes, looking like pearls of light on her dark lashes. Suddenly, she was no longer the very picture of goodness but that of sorrow. It pained Ginny to see Izha so distraught, for they were not Izha's relatives and she could not make amends for her father's madness. Overcoming at last the barriers Izha's resemblance and ties to Tom had raised, Ginny wrapped her arms around Izha and held her tight.

"It's not your fault," she murmured soothingly, feeling herself getting teary-eyed. "It isn't your fault."

Draco was surprised to find his cousin buried in his wife's arms and holding on to her as if her very life depended on it. Both women looked so desperately forlorn that he felt disoriented, for women in his family--namely, his mother--did not make a show of their emotions, and his girlfriends, dates, and friends with benefits had known better than to trouble him with their soap-operas. He had never seen anything like the paradoxical decorum and privacy carved in Izha and Ginevra's clinging figures. Draco stepped back from the slightly ajar door and called to an imaginary interlocutor.

"I think they went in the gold and blue salon. I'll go and get them."

He allowed them a few seconds to reestablish their proper appearance, then casually walked into the room to find them seated, facing each other and looking perfectly prim and proper.

"There you are," Draco said, smiling as if he hadn't seen them crying in each others' arms, for reasons he ignored but was intent on finding out, moments before.

"We were discussing our families," Ginevra said brightly.

Izha nodded calmly, and Draco was angry to find how easily women in his family turned on him. Neither batted an eyelash as they lied--or so he assumed--, a fact that would have made him proud of the Malfoy and Ummayad's capacity to dissimulate had it not been used against him.

"It's almost midnight; everyone's getting ready and waiting for you."

Ginny rubbed Izha's arm soothingly and got up, taking Draco's hand as he escorted her out of the boudoir. His mind, graced with an additional topic of mystery, was a whirlpool of unanswered questions. He was frowning ever so slightly when they entered the salon, a fact that escaped neither Narcissa nor Ginny's notice. The latter tenderly placed a kiss on Draco's cheek, complementing it with a loving smile when his eyes turned to her questioningly. Little did she know about what went on in his mind, for if she had, she would have been quite fearful.

The lights were dimmed in the salon, with only a few candelabras still lit beside the garlands on the fir tree. The Umayyads and Narcissa were lined in a chain around the tree with each family side by side. Draco slipped in next to Narcissa and took her hand without letting go of Ginny's. Izha intercalated herself between Ginny and Cyrus, giving the young woman a knowing look of pure empathy. Belial's son felt a jolt of frustration as his cousin separated him from the Ginevra's truculent figure.

"We are here tonight to reflect on what we have been given," began Bao Fang, Shezbeth and Ba Li Nu's last daughter, also the youngest of the family. "This year, as the past ones, has granted us bounties beyond what most people obtain in a lifetime. In this day where Christians celebrate the venue of their savior, we celebrate the venue of peace in the Wizarding world, hoping that, with time, it may also breed forgiveness, understanding, and generosity. We must be grateful for what we have."

"We must be grateful for what we have," they all repeated, and Ginny, mesmerized by the solemnity and depth of the little girl's words, understood that she had learned them as part of a ritual.

"We must give back as we have received."

"We must give back as we have received."

"To our parents, family, friends, and strangers in need."

"To our parents, family, friends, and strangers in need."

Ginny wondered to which extent the Umayyad actually followed their preaching, though it appeared that in human history, disparity between words and actions had always been frequent.

"For our children to grow in a world as bountiful as ours."

"For our children to grow in a world as bountiful as ours."

As the chorus repeated the final sentence, a shower of minuscule stars fell from the ceiling, covering the entire room with a soft sheen of gold. When it vanished, there were mounds of presents by the fir tree, on the chairs, sofas, tables, and consoles. They shone red, green, blue, silver, and gold on the otherwise sober, wooden furniture. The children, looking very dignified, threw themselves at their pile of presents. Ginny had barely found hers when Yu-Shui could be heard squealing delightedly about her new expandable doll-house. Draco's pile was sandwiched between his wife's and his mother's piles. He delicately picked up the top package while Narcissa sat on a chair and began opening her presents. Ginny had plopped herself on the floor, and the pile of presents rose above her head, a fact that did not appear to bother her as she grabbed the bottom package and watched the pile tumble down with a childish grin. Draco shook his head.

Ginny began understanding the hints when enchanted teddy-bears and baby's clothing supplemented the wood and mother-of-pearl cradle. She maintained a bright smile as she unraveled a pair of tiny mittens, scarf, and hat of Yeti wool, though at the pit of her stomach, an emptiness grew. As much as she disliked certain members of Draco's family, she knew how eager her own had been to welcome new children, and she smothered a feeling of guilt at the thought that she was purposefully misleading them. She would not bear Draco's child and, in fact, she might not be his wife in a few months, or years, depending on the time it took her to adequately sabotage his reputation and finances--basically, his life. Ginny failed to realize that in the process she was also messing with what Malfoys rarely gave or suffered from: their heart.

"Oh, wow," she murmured when a stream of pearls trickled from the black velvet box she had opened.

Though the pearls were small and irregular, they glowed smoothly in the half-lit room, looking very much like snow showers falling from Ginny's hand. Narcissa, who held in her hand a small satchel of what looked like seeds, saw her daughter-in-law's gift and smiled. Lucius had presented her with that necklace when he had learned she was pregnant, and she was glad to see her son offering it to another woman.

"Do you like it?" Draco whispered in his wife's ear.

"It's beautiful," Ginny replied, turning to find him squatting at her side. Her smile and obvious glee filled him with contentment, though he knew she was in for a shock and didn't completely dislike the thought of surprising her.

"Men in my family gave them to their wives when they were pregnant with their first child."

Ginny's face fell and Draco knew that, for an instant, had he chosen to read her mind, he would have found it bare and in utter chaos. As it was, her startled eyes and half-open mouth were good enough indicators of her disbelief.

"What do you--"

"Come on," he chided her gently, placing his large hands on her belly. "When were you going to tell me?"

"But I'm not--"

"Pregnant? It's hard to deny the evidence, isn't it?" Draco cooed in her ear.

He kissed her tenderly in the neck and on the shoulder, feeling as he did the rapid pulse of her heart. Panic oozed from her like water from damp clay. The nauseas, the moodiness, the sudden and unexpected urges for chocolate... Her barely fitting into that damned, prune dress... Ginny suddenly felt so sick and terrified she wished she could faint, but it appeared her chaotic emotions were too strong for even that to happen and grant her a few instants of oblivion. The altercation with Cyrus in the mosque suddenly felt like a rather pleasant and peaceful moment compared to what she was feeling.

"Thank you for the new fencing gear and ancient books," he said, tracing patterns on her hips and the flesh imprisoned in the dress, "but this--" He patted her stomach. "--is the most beautiful gift you could give me."

Draco Malfoy had never imagined himself happily wed and eagerly awaiting to become a father, much less impregnating his wife to get her to betray herself. As he said those words, however, he felt how truly he meant them, and the thought of Ginevra carrying their child made her all the more precious to him. He felt sharply how, regardless of what Blaise told him about her, he would not be able to let her go. And that, he knew, was a very dangerous fact to both her and himself.

***

Draco.

I just returned from Gringotts'. They are completely unwilling to give me any information regarding Ginevra's doings there. I think that if you asked them yourself, they would be more inclined to tell you what your wife is up to. You clearly have a better claim, and I hope it will be sufficient to push them to infringe their privacy policy.

Apparently, she's been using the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes owl to correspond with a friend. Coincidentally, she's also been financing the shop. Completely. I suppose the Goblins will tell you where she got the money from.

Shehzin is doing well. Preparations of the wedding are going well. You'll get an invitation soon. (Or maybe not).

--Blaise

(1) "In earliest times, it was a symbol for the highest power, the sun, and its counterpart, the king. It represented power and control." http://www.symbols.com/encyclopedia/29/291.html