Tender the Storm

"Have you seen Jacky, Mrs. Trent?"

"Master John? Why, no, Miss Weasley, I haven't seen him since you took him out to the picnic this afternoon."

Ginny paled visibly. "He - he didn't return?"

"I'm afraid not, Miss Weasley. Is something the matter?"

"No - no - nothing's the matter. If you'll excuse me . . ." Her voice trailed off, and she turned and hurried away. As she turned the corner sharply, she ran straight into Draco himself.

"Oh! I'm so sorry." In her distress she didn't notice the gentle look he gave her.

"Jacky's run off again, is that it?" he asked, taking hold of her elbows so that she couldn't run off again.

She took a long moment before finally giving a nod.

"Put your mind at rest, Ginny," he said matter-of-factly. "This is a large estate with many attractions for a boy his ate. Just because you can't see him every moment of the day, you don't need to think that he's in any danger. There are many who work here, in the house and in the stables and on the farms, and all of them consider it their foremost responsibility to look after the boy. While the lake has its dangers, Jacky has made it patently clear that we needn't worry about that. In short, you can cease your fretting."

A deep blush colored the skin of her neck and her cheeks. "I'm sorry to appear such a fool, sir. Old habits are difficult to break."

"There's no need to apologize."

Draco caught her impatient look toward the doorway that led outside.

"If you'll forgive me, sir." She tried to go around him, but his hold on her elbow was firm.

"When was the last time you saw him? And what is it exactly that has you so alarmed?"

She gave him a grateful look. "We . . . I was the last one. I've already spoken to several members of the staff and it appears that he didn't come back here after he left the mill. He's probably still running around in his wet clothes, and . . ."

"The day's quite warm. I assure you he'll not suffer from being outside." The words sounded patronizing, even to his own ears.

"I can see that my shortcomings as a parent are readily apparent to you," Ginny snapped, losing her temper at last. "However, I'm making every attempt to hold aback and allow those who'll be very much a part of John's future to take an active part in his life." She took a half-breath and stared at some invisible mark on his coat while moving slightly to detach herself from his grasp. "Nevertheless, my good intentions and my love for your son are separate matters entirely. I will never sit idly when I think he may be in danger. Excuse me."

It took only a few strides to overtake her at the door. Draco knew that this was not the time to engage Ginny in a discussion of love versus attachment. Personally, he seriously doubted that such a thing as love really existed. He'd never been the recipient of it in his life, of that he was certain. He had felt passion, but that was another matter entirely. And he'd never harbored any feeling that he might confuse with love. Attachment, though, was a much simpler matter to deal with. Jacky had lived with her for many years, so naturally she was attached to him. And as these things went, once Ginny and the boy were separated, they would both adjust. Presently, though, he preferred Ginny to stay on at Malfoy Manor, so winning the point would hardly be in his best interest.

"Allow me," he said, opening the door and following her out. "I assume you plan to go in search of him."

"I . . . I was planning on taking a walk," Ginny lied.

"I think," said Draco mildly, "that I may know where Jacky is. I'll go after him."

"You know?" she asked in disbelief, stopping and facing him.

"Well, I should say I've a strong suspicion hat he's returned to the same deserted cottage where I found him two nights ago."

"Then you don't believe he's run off again," said Ginny, her relief apparent.

"No." He snapped his fingers, and Dan magically appeared. "Have my horse brought around," he said. The ghost butler nodded and floated off. He looked back down at Ginny. "I believe he's found a refuge of sorts in it. He probably sees it as a place to play - as I assume most young boys would."

"But is this cottage not quite far off?"

"I'll go over there myself and make certain he is there. But I also have a proposition for you." He paused as she looked up at him, brown eyes wary. "I'm planning on staying at Malfoy Manor for awhile. I'll not be returning to London for a month, at least."

She blessed him with a smile that nearly stunned him with its brilliance. Ginny Weasley was a woman who needed to smile more, he thought.

"That's exactly what Jacky needs," she said. "Time spent with you will surely settle him."

Spending time with the child was hardly the reason Draco was extending the stay. Still, though, the warm approval in her expression caused him to withhold the truth. "I will spend time with him. But in so doing, I would like to rely on your help. I've no claims to any knowledge on how to parent a boy like him. I'd like to be sure that I'm proceeding as I should."

She lowered her eyes. "I'm no expert, sir."

"Kindly do not require that I deliver one of your own lectures back to you." He arched a brow in challenge and then hid a smile as she bit back her response. "Very well, then! I'm happy to see you've decided to see things my way."

***

Jacky stopped in the path and looked up into the faces of the approaching horse and rider. The chestnut colored stallion was a magnificent animal, though the man sitting atop his back was obviously the master. Draco had changed out of his wet clothing, the boy realized, watching the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves of the trees play on the man's coat.

He stared into his face to gauge his father's temper. His mother hadn't had to warn him when he'd come out of the lake earlier. Though, in a way, Jacky had wanted to impress his father with how well he could swim, it took only one look at his mother's face for him to know that Draco was not too happy about coming in after him. Well, no one had asked him to dive in after him!

Those thoughts aside, Jacky wondered if he were in for a beating. One look at his father's indifferent gaze, though, and he knew the man didn't care enough for him even to get angry, never mind beat him

"Your shirt and shoes are missing."

The words were a statement and nothing more. Draco reined in the horse beside Jacky. Rather than watching the man, the boy's attention was focused on the horse's black eye as it rolled toward him. With great interest, Jacky watched the flicker of the animal's ear. He couldn't help himself but to extend a hesitant hand and touch the top of the horse's nose and then his neck.

"Do you like horses?"

Jacky didn't say anything, because he'd made a pact with himself to answer nothing his father said to him.

"Perhaps you'd enjoy riding one, yourself. I can have one of the grooms find you a pony. You can begin learning anytime you like."

He really wanted to ride. He really wanted to learn how to ride a pony. No, he thought, he wanted to ride a horse as big and beautiful as this one. He stroked the powerful neck of the steed. He was softer than velvet. But again, his own vow kept him from showing any enthusiasm. He might be only nine years old, but it wasn't too difficult to figure things out. As soon as his mama though Jacky was getting along here, she would disappear from his life, forever. Of that, he was certain.

The horse pawed the ground impatiently, and Jacky stepped back, only to find his father's hand extended toward him.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride back to the Manor."

He could have walked back to the house on his bare feet and without any help, but he'd really liked the feel of the horse under him the other night when he'd ridden to the house, mounted behind his father. Jacky looked for a way to climb up on the hose's back without accepting Draco's help, but there wasn't one. He took the proffered hand and fairly flew off the ground, landing gently on he animal's back.

His father half turned in his saddle. "From now on, you'll tell someone at the house when you decide to disappear for a few hours. You may think you're quite grown up, but your mother's been worrying about you for too long, now, to change her ways so quickly."

Jacky said nothing in response, but he did feel a pang of guilt that his mama had been troubled.

The man and the boy rode back to the Manor in silence.

***

The cup and saucer hit the wall with a violent crash. Another sweep of an arm, and the table was nearly laid bare - with puffs, powders, and other trifles flying across the dressing room. The crumpled parchment bounced against the mirror and dropped harmlessly onto the table.

"Is his owl still here?"

The house elf took a step back toward the door. "No, Mrs. Drake," it squeaked. "This was delivered early in the morning."

As Blaise Zabini Drake's hand reached for the heavy jewelry box of tortoise shell and ivory, the unfortunate creature hastily escaped its mistress's dressing chamber. A moment later, the sound of the box splintering the wood of the door echoed through the entire second story of the town house.

"Bastard!" Blaise screamed, pouncing on the letter and tearing it into pieces.

Her rage cried out for release, and nothing was safe in her path of destruction. A robe of silk lying at the foot of the bed was ripped in two. Heavy bottles of perfumes adorning the high chest joined the jewelry box at the base of the door. Too angry to hesitate, too frustrated to think, she tore through the chamber, upsetting tables and chairs, laying waste to everything within reach until she finally faltered breathlessly by the window, clinging to the heavy drapes, flushed and spent. She sank onto the edge of an overturned sofa.

"I had you, you bastard!" she shrieked. "You were mine."

Blaise stared down at the shreds of the message littering the floor. So businesslike. So impersonal. The very thought made her ill. She hated to lose. The thought of the money she had stood to gain was bad enough. She had invested her time in the blackguard. She had schemed. She had waited. She had done everything that was sure to win him over for good. And here she was - despite all of her efforts - discarded like a pair of soiled gloves.

Defeat hung in the chamber like a suffocating cloud, but Blaise stood up, forcing herself to think.

The mantel clock that had escaped her wrath had not ticked a dozen times before the thought came to her with brilliant clarity. There was another woman!

That had to be! Someone had stolen what was hers. What else could it be?

This she knew how to deal with.

The room was in shambles, but Blaise strode through it with the air of a conquering war goddess. She paused before the mirror and admired her own reflection. Despite the disappointment, her eyes were sparkling, her skin smooth and fresh, her cheeks blooming with color.

"Let him have his tumble with the whore," she whispered haughtily to the reflection in the mirror. "But he will be mine once I rid myself of the b*tch."

Blaise moved to the door and yanked it open, scattering glass and jewelry across the floor. In the corridor, her call rang with excitement. She actually smiled a moment later when the fearful face of the house elf appeared on the stairway. Turning on her heel, she preceded the little creature into the dressing room and stopped by the window.

"Clean this mess, house elf! Then pack my trunks."

"Are you going somewhere, ma'am?"

"I am," Blaise answered, kicking aside a pillow as she made her way to the wardrobe.