In More Ways Than One

In More Ways Than One

***

"You're exquisite," he murmured in her ear, toying with a lock of her bright red hair, which was damp with sweat from the afternoon's exertion.

She stretched herself out next to him, reveling in the temperature disparity between his skin and the cool silken sheets. "As are you," she replied lightly, kissing his shoulder.

He groaned, burying his face in her hair. "And you're also evil," he teased. "A whole afternoon, entirely gone."

"But not wasted, I hope?" she asked, a satisfied smile playing about her mouth.

"Hardly," he said dryly, painfully aware of how attractive she was when she smiled that way. He could barely resist the overwhelming urge to-

"Draco Narcissus Malfoy."

Draco jumped at the cold, accusatory note in his wife's voice. "Yes, Virginia Margaret Malfoy?" he asked, hoping he sounded teasing rather than guilty. He rolled off the couch, chagrined to see not one, but two pairs of angry brown eyes boring into him- Ginny's as well as the near-black ones of their daughter, Lyra. "Oh," he said abruptly, tucking his book under a couch cushion.

"'Oh,' indeed," Ginny snapped. "You were meant to pick Lyra up at King's Cross three hours ago, Draco. Instead, Ron and Lavender had to take her home, and I wasn't able to get her until after my meeting." Ginny's eyes were blazing with fury. "What were you doing that could possibly be more important than meeting up with your own daughter after her first year at school?"

"I fell asleep," Draco said lamely.

Lyra glanced cautiously from one parent to another. She'd witnessed one of her parents' rows before, and she could tell just from Ginny's posture that her mother was livid. "I'll be in my suite," she said quickly. "Er- thanks for fetching me from Uncle Ron's, mum."

Ginny nodded distractedly, her smoldering gaze not leaving her husband. As soon as Lyra had slipped out of the drawing room and into the corridor, Ginny paced across the room to where Draco was, seating herself primly on his vacated couch. "So?" she said icily. "What have you got to say for yourself?" She settled back, long, lean legs stretched before her. It was clear from her bored posture that she expected a contrived explanation to replace his original cheap excuse.

Before Draco could even reply, though, Ginny sat up again, startled. "What on earth?" she exclaimed, reaching under the cushion. "There's something funny with this couch ... but Lyra wasn't home to magic it ... perhaps the house elves ...?" Ginny's questing hand re-appeared from underneath the cushion, holding Draco's book aloft. Her eyes scanned the title. "'Wands Afire?'" she said, clearly horrified. "Where could this have come fr-"

Understanding flickered across Ginny's face, and she began to snigger. "Oh- Draco- a romance novel- you didn't-" Her words ceased to be comprehensible as she dissolved into a fit of giggling. Draco stood, silent, waiting.

"Are you quite finished?" he snapped waspishly after five minutes.

Ginny's laughter faded into hiccupps. "Er- yes." She schooled her face into a more serious expression. "So, you missed picking up our daughter because you couldn't tear yourself away from a trashy romance."

Draco's eyes danced. "Just look at the cover more closely."

Ginny glanced down at the book in her hand. The girl, who was nearly falling out of the bodice of her Hogwarts robes, grinned saucily, and the young man, pectoral muscles rippling beneath his Slytherin Quidditch robes, gave her a slow wink. Ginny had a closer look, then coughed. "I don't think that can be done on a broomstick," she said delicately.

"Not that," Draco replied, both entertained and impatient. "Read the rest of the title."

"'Wands Afire: The Steamy Love Saga of Draco and Ginny Malfoy,'" Ginny read aloud, tone becoming more incredulous with every word. "'A True Story by Rita Skeeter.' A true story?!" Her expression was furious again, but her ire was no longer directed at Draco. "That woman- I ought- argh!" She turned pleading eyes on her amused husband. "Please tell me this is the only copy?"

Draco shook his head.

"It's been openly published?"

A nod.

"Do lots of people have it?"

Another nod.

Ginny sighed, and the two of them were silent for another moment. "Well," she said finally, "is even a speck of it true?"

Draco pretended to ponder. "We are actually married, are we not?"

Ginny nodded.

"Then she's gotten that much correct."

"Oh. Well, I suppose there's only one way to fix it, hmm?" Ginny asked.

Draco eyed his wife curiously, wondering what she had in mind. "Break into every wizarding household in Britain and burn them all?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of, ah-" Ginny gestured emptily with the book. "You know. Making some of these things happen."

Draco smirked. "I thought that this-" he pointed at the book's cover "-couldn't be done?"

Ginny stared thoughtfully at the cover as her well-endowed doppleganger giggled and whispered in the ear of the overly-muscled "Draco." "Well, perhaps not on a broomstick," she said slowly. "But what do you think- could it be managed on a couch?"

She didn't have to ask twice.

A few hearbeats of silence, punctuated only by shuffling noises and muffled giggling.

"Draco," Ginny whispered. More urgently, "Draco!"

"What?" he demanded, looking up from his self-appointed task of unlacing his wife's robes.

"Your wand. Where is it?"

A low chuckle. "I would think that's obvious."

"Not that one, you pervy git, the woode- er, the mag- the real one, damnit! Put the lights out and lock the door, Lyra's home, remember?"

Smiling, Draco obliged Ginny. In more ways than one.

***