Mala Fide: In Bad Faith

Mala Fide: In Bad Faith - Chapter 10

"Ginn-neee!!!!" Pansy whined then snorted with laughter as she slapped the redhead on the shoulder. The former Slytherin prefect had already had far too much to drink, even though it was still fairly early. Ginny turned to her, droopy-eyed, looking three sheets to the wind herself. Millicent was tap-dancing on top of the piano that Cho Davies was attempting to play. Some of the witches 'booed' the professional Seeker, but she insisted, "No, I can play! I had lessons when I was a girl," as she kept attempting to play, however badly.

When Daphne Greengrass asked how long she had studied piano, Cho held up three fingers and then fell off the bench laughing. "Three years? And you sound that bad?" Daphne complained.

Cho rolled on her back underneath the bench. "No," she chortled from the floor, "three lessons!" She broke into hysterical giggles once more and flopped her arm to the floor, causing Pansy to nearly trip over her as she walked by. Everyone in the vicinity of the piano lost any semblance of dignity and doubled over with laughter, even the stuffy Miss Greengrass, who swore on Merlin's beard she had only had one flute of some very pricey champagne.

Luna watched them all, amused eyes drawn into wide circles and her lips in a goofy grin. The Hen Night was well underway. Giggles and outbursts of hilarity, most of them for no apparent reason other than copious amounts of alcohol, echoed through the nearly-empty ballroom. Lucius was gone for the evening, and the children were in the nursery under the watchful eye of their nanny. Other than the servants, the witches had the house all to themselves.

Suddenly, the lights went dim, and a single spotlight shone at the center of the stage. Millicent stepped off the piano and moved into the solitary light. "Ladies, can I have your attention, please?" she asked, a wicked smirk on her face. Pansy kept snickering then put a finger to her mouth and whispered loudly, "Shhhh, Millie's talking . . shhhhh," unaware that she was the only one who wasn't heeding her own advice.

"Thank you, Pansy," Mrs. Flint said with a hint of sarcasm. Addressing the group at large, she announced, "Now comes the part we've all been waiting for: this evening's entertainment. And I can promise you, this party is about to get much more interesting than a bunch of witches getting totally pissed; just how interesting . . well, that all depends on you." With those words, she stared at Hermione Granger Potter.

Hermione shuddered slightly. Just being at Malfoy Manor was an uncomfortable experience for her, and she was beginning to think she had made a serious error in judgment. As she sat there asking herself why she had even agreed to come, she wondered if there was any way for her to graciously bow out now, without offending Luna or Ginny - or for that matter, Neville. After all, it was his bloody idea that she go. He thought it was time the old friends buried the hatchet and made up. The bitterness between them had gone on long enough, he'd said.

Easier said than done, she thought as her eyes darted about the room. The house was so cold and foreign to her that it practically made her shiver, despite feeling warmed by the three shots of Firewhiskey she had consumed. Looking at the extravagant surroundings, Hermione wondered, How can Ginny live here? It's so different from the Burrow - literally, night and day, yet she seems quite content . . .

Momentarily halting her cross-examination of Ginny's lifestyle, she realized that Millicent had stepped back from center stage and was presently giving her wand a good 'swish-and-flick'. A steady rhythm on what Hermione thought sounded like bass drum issued from the stage, although there was no drummer or drum to be seen. The rhythm was somewhere between Burlesque and jazz; a cymbal followed every other beat. Soon, an invisible snare filled in the gaps. Its cadence made her wonder if perhaps a stripper would soon step out from behind that golden curtain and start doing a pole dance.

But to Hermione's surprise, a strikingly handsome wizard with large, deep eyes of smoky topaz and the most kissable lips she had ever seen strolled onto the stage and into the spotlight. She didn't know how, but he took her breath away. Dressed to the nines in expensive black robes lined with scarlet satin, he was so bloody gorgeous, he could have easily passed for Gilderoy Lockhart's much younger brother. A few of the ladies smiled and subconsciously licked their lips.

At last, Millie introduced the handsome young man. "Ladies, please welcome Seymour Cox!" Most of the Slytherin girls clapped and squealed with delight. Pansy stood up, put two fingers in her mouth, and whistled enthusiastically.

Luna, missing the double entendre of the wizard's name, bent over and whispered in Ginny's ear, "He must be good."

Ginny's mouth fell open. What I have gotten myself into? she thought. With a name like that, she could only guess what his list of 'talents' would include. Turning her head and rolling her eyes, she could see Hermione at the next table over; she was fanning herself with a napkin and looking as like she were desperate to escape, yet unable to look away. Watching the pompous witch's reaction tickled the redhead so much that she decided to just relax and enjoy the show - both on the stage and off.

"Remember, ladies," Millie said as she stepped off the stage and found a place in the crowd, "it's all in fun!"

Seymour magically amplified his voice so he could be heard above the persistent drumbeat and the soft, sensual jazz that had begun playing in the background. "Good evening, my darlings," he said. His voice was smooth as honey; silky and rich, it was pure pleasure in one's ears. Suddenly, the music got so quiet, it seemed to have stopped, and everyone thought he was going to say something else.

Instead, he waved his arms dramatically, and a disco tune, made popular by the wizarding band Stonehenge, started pounding out its loud, steady bass beat. Colored lights, like the ones found in muggle nightclubs, began flashing on and off all around the room. Seymour stood in the spotlight and shook his bum. He began to clap his hands, encouraging his audience and drawing them in.

Somehow, his robes had landed on the floor. He continued dancing to the beat of the music. Moments later, he was down to just a thong, his hips gyrating seductively. Pulses were racing; every eye in the room, including Hermione's, was on his incredible body, curious what he would do with it next.

"How is everyone enjoying the Hen Night?" he asked smoothly as if the dancing hadn't tired him out a bit. The ladies responded excitedly, and Pansy whistled a few more times. Then he called out, "All right, I need someone to join me up on stage. Who's getting married? Is it Luna?"

Several voices shouted at him, "Yes, yes - Luna! Luna Lovegood!!" Someone yelled, "Go on, Luna! Get up there and grab onto that divine arse, you lucky witch!" The bride blushed profusely, while the others squealed and giggled with delight and ancitipation.

"Oh, Luuuu-na," Seymour teased sexily in a singsong voice, "are you out there, love? Can I tempt you to come up on the stage with me? I promise, I don't bite. But I do like to nibble."

By then, even the most reserved guest couldn't help but wonder what exquisite torture the bride would endure in the hands of the sexy entertainer. But Luna wriggled uncomfortably in her chair.

Daphne, dropping all pretense of being bored, jumped up, stood on her chair, and shouted, "Me! I'm Luna!!" A few of her friends laughed. Nearly everyone gasped and insisted that she was definitely not Luna.

Finally, with the help of Ginny, Cho, and even Hermione, the bride was center-stage. Her face as red as a lobster, she stood there nervously next to the practically-naked wizard. The others had had to drag her, and she felt awkward at first. But Luna soon realized the benefits of her position and smiled.

When Seymour gazed at Luna as if she were the most fascinating creature he had ever seen, some in the audience grumbled with envy. "Oooh," he said, "some of these kittens have claws. Sounds like you all need a good dose of anti-jealousy potion."

When he waved his arm in the direction of the other ladies, a narrow silver goblet promptly appeared in front of every witch. The potion inside was a light, transparent beige and bubbled lightly like champagne. The wizard handed a goblet to Luna, pressed it to her lips, and encouraged her to drink up. Turning his head and raising one eyebrow, he eyed the other guests, who quickly drained their goblets as well.

Focusing on Luna once more, he put his arm around her waist and purred, "So you're getting married, pet?" She nodded timidly and avoided looking at him. "Going to save yourself for him, are you?" When Luna ducked her head, he grabbed her gently by the chin then kissed her lightly on the cheek but very close to her mouth.

He brushed his lips against her ear and in a whisper so soft it made her shudder, he asked suggestively, "And you're certain your groom is the only man you'll ever want?" and licked her earlobe lightly. Starting at her waist, his hand roamed up and down her side and stopped just shy of the lower edge of her right breast. Luna squirmed a little; soon, she started to relax and smile as if she were enjoying herself.

He released his hold on her at once and pushed her gently aside. Waving his hand in front of her, he Conjured what looked like a veil. It wasn't exactly like a bridal veil, per se, as it was made to cover only the face rather than the entire head; it was a flimsy scrap of gossamer, fuschia fabric, about one foot long and just as wide. At the top was a braided gold band with diamond flecks that danced in the light and a crystal comb on each side to hold it in place. Not many of the witches had seen a beautiful and rare magical artifact like this.

Holding the veil out for the audience to examine, he announced, "This, my dears, is the Veil of Passion. Married women may decline to partake, if they wish. But no woman who is single - even divorcees and widows - may say no."

He draped it in front of Luna's face and told her, "Look through the veil, and it will reveal who you want the most." She grinned at him then gently pulled the veil forward over her face. "Go on, Luna; look at me," he prompted. "Who lights your passion?"

She watched Seymour with wondrous eyes as he danced seductively, moving from side to side. A few seconds later, his outline became somewhat hazy, and gradually, she saw him . . change. He grew a bit taller and a bit thicker around the middle, but not by much. Then his hair darkened - he was Neville! For a split second, his hair started to turn a slightly different shade, but when her vision cleared, she could see that he was definitely her fiancé. She sighed and laughed to herself.

Taking this to mean that Luna had seen her future husband, Seymour - still looking like Neville in her eyes - reached toward her and carefully withdrew the veil. "Did you like what you saw, my dear?" he whispered. She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, the brides usually do, on a night such as this." He hugged her lightly and confided, "Try it again in five years, love," then winked and guided her off the stage. Following behind her, he went to choose another witch to enchant with his magic veil.

Luna sat down beside Ginny, who asked her, "What happened, Luna? What was it like?"

The bride just blinked, her mouth hanging open in a silly grin. "I don't know. I - opened my eyes, and he was just . . . Neville."

"What do you mean?"

But Luna only shrugged and gave her a lopsided grin. "You'll just have to see for yourself, Ginny."

The commotion continued all around them as one by one, the ladies tried on the veil. Pansy squealed with delight but wouldn't tell anyone who it was she saw, not even Millicent, who tried to bribe her old friend. She offered to wear the veil herself, tell everyone who it was she saw, and give the struggling teacher a tidy sum of 200 Galleons if she would spill her secrets. Still, Pansy refused.

Hearing Millicent offer to try on the veil, Cho Davies decided she would take a turn at it. She latched on to Seymour's hand and pulled him to her table. He reminded her that she didn't have to do this, saying once more, "Married women can exclude themselves, if they wish." But she insisted. Finally, he relented and pushed the combs into her raven hair then slowly brought the fabric in front of her face.

But the vision she saw wasn't what she expected, and the poor witch screamed in denial. She wasn't exactly terrified, rather in shock. When Seymour reached out to try and calm her, she pushed him away. She didn't even wait for him to remove the veil; instead, she flung it violently across the floor and then burst into sobs as she fled the room. When one of her friends tried to follow her, Cho shook her head and shouted, "No!"

Luna and Ginny wondered why she had gotten so upset. Luna decided that her vision might have been of Cedric Diggory. "Even though she married Roger Davies," she said in a low voice, "none of the Ravenclaw girls believed she ever really got over Cedric's death."

After asking a house-elf to see if Cho would be all right, Seymour moved on to Daphne Greengrass. She smiled the widest of any of them. "Oooh, Ginny, it's your brother!" On hearing this, Hermione's ears pricked up.

Ginny, slightly revolted but curious nonetheless, asked, "Which one?"

Daphne moaned, "The dreamy one."

Pansy wrinkled her nose in disgust. "And who would that be?"

"Ron, of course! Mmm, I've thought he was hot since I first saw him in his Quidditch robes!!"

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. Ron? Daphne Greengrass thinks Ron is 'hot'?

"But he can't play the game for shit!" Pansy said bluntly.

"Who cares?" Daphne pursed her lips in a kiss and flirted with 'Ron' as he danced for her.

Millicent couldn't help but notice how all that talk about Ginny's brother had gotten Hermione's back up. She also thought the Gryffindor had been far too quiet this evening and could not resist baiting her. "So tell us, Granger; how is dear Ronnie in bed? Does he have a really big--"

Pansy put her hand over Millie's mouth. "Shhhh, you're embarrassing Ginny! This is her house; show her some ressspect," she slurred as she sloshed yet another drink.

Hermione's eyes widened momentarily, but she didn't dignify Mrs. Flint with an answer. Ginny looked at her former housemate in astonishment, surprised she wouldn't lash out at such a remark. Too much Firewhiskey to care, I suppose, she surmised.

All eyes were now on Harry's widow, so Seymour took the opportunity to put the veil on her. As he did, he hoped he could remember the charm to remove it, should it become entangled in her exceedingly bushy hair.

Hermione winced as he pressed the combs into her hair with what she felt certain was more force than was absolutely necessary. "Go on, my dear," he urged, "who do you see?" Almost as if she were afraid what vision the sexy wizard might inspire for her, she squeezed her eyes shut. When she did, the room began to spin.

Trying to fight the sudden dizzy spell, she cautiously and very slowly opened her eyes. When a red-haired wizard stood where Seymour had been, she laughed nervously. Her ears were ringing from the music, the shouting, and the jeers coming from around the room.

Someone called out, "It had better be Fred Weasley, or there'll be hell to pay--!"

"That is, if Rita Skeeter is to be believed!" another unidentified voice yelled, only to be cheered and cackled at by the Slytherins.

"I'll put 50 Galleons on Ron Weasley!" a third voice chimed in. It too was met with raucous laughter.

The wizard was now down on his knees before Hermione and kissing her hand, moving his lips up her arm, hoping to draw out her lust by exciting her and the crowd even more. In the darkness, she had trouble making out the face - he certainly looked like Fred - but when his nose changed slightly at the last moment and he grew a bit taller and lankier, she shrieked.

"Liar!" she shrieked as she struggled to pull off the veil, insisting, "I do not want to shag Ron Weasley! I'm seeing his brother, for heaven's sake!" She tugged at the veil furiously. Only when the comb finally snapped was she able to get it off her head. She shoved it roughly into Seymour's hands, who by then, looked like himself.

He snuggled close to her and hissed, "The Veil of Passion does not lie. It shows what you want it to." When she only glared at him, he stood up and said smugly, "Maybe you're sleeping with the wrong Weasley." She shot him a glance, but he just smirked and raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to say something more. Then with a quick 'Reparo', he fixed the damaged comb then turned to seek his last victim.

"Ginny Malfoy, you're next. Let's see who you fantasize about, what wizard lights your fire . . " He licked his lips and winked at the enraptured crowd. Carefully placing the veil on her head, he pressed the combs into her hair then pulled the fabric forward and over her face. She too closed her eyes, not daring to look at the wizard before her. She wasn't sure if it would be her late husband, Brian Gilpin, or maybe someone else.

"Open your eyes, Mrs. M," Seymour teased with a wicked grin. "Who am I this time?" Some of the witches around her began shouting her name.

Ginny's head was humming and starting to swim as that last drink finally hit her. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she opened her eyes cautiously and looked at the scantily-clad wizard with the smoldering eyes, smoky violet orbs that had surely seduced hundreds of witches over the years . .

At first, the outline she saw was fuzzy and vague, and she couldn't quite tell who he was. His chestnut hair now reached past his shoulders, and it was tied back, maybe - yes, in a black ribbon, and it was much lighter, almost white. Draco, her mind told her. She sighed in relief and relaxed her tense shoulders.

But still . . . that wasn't really what she wanted - to wish for something that could never be. Ginny shut her eyes again and threw her head back, trying to clear her thoughts of him.

For although she had loved him dearly, and always would, she had to stop thinking about him so much, stop dreaming of him . . open her mind to the possibility of seeing someone new. The children need a father figure in their lives, she reasoned with herself. Someone who's here.

And Merlin's sake, I need to get laid! These erotic dreams I keep having certainly prove that . . .

Meanwhile, the music was relentless in its driving beat. The other ladies were getting louder and louder; the whole room seemed to be roaring around her.

I wish those ninnies would quit shouting - I have to concentrate!

Ginny opened her eyes and was surprised to find that Seymour was on his knees before her and was just starting to remove her shoe. Without looking up at her, he started to kiss her foot. The audience loved it. Relishing the attention his antics were bringing, he went a bit further and sucked on her toes; next, he ran a hand up her leg, stopping just above her knee.

She still hadn't seen his face, yet through the veil's filmy material, she could see that his long hair was still held back in the black ribbon, a stark contrast to the shade of it. When he finally looked up, he flashed her a wickedly sexy grin; his silvery eyes, so like her husband's, were dancing with delight.

She didn't react anything like Hermione had. Nor did she seem shaken, as Cho had been.

No, Ginny seemed . . . pleased.

Realizing this, Seymour smiled to himself. Oh yeah, she sees him - whoever the lucky bastard is. As he inched closer to her, he thought, Time to move in for the kill.

It was all part of the game. Since he got most of his jobs by word of mouth, he always gave his guests one last thrill at the end of his performances to help ensure they would remember him and hopefully recommend him to their friends. The ladies ate it up, and he never went long in between jobs. Besides, by this time in a performance, even the stodgiest old biddies in the crowd were so horny, they would jump right in, screaming his name and tossing their knickers at him like he was Tom Fuck-Me-Please Jones.

After all, it was strictly business.

The wizard leaned forward and fell against Ginny; disregarding the veil, he kissed her desperately, as if the man she desired couldn't help himself. Delirious, she fell completely into the fantasy. She abandoned her fears and threw her arms around him. He looked so incredibly like him - it wasn't until he whispered, "Ginny," did her brain acknowledge that it wasn't really him; he always called her Ginevra.

"Please," she begged softly, stroking his hair, "call me Ginevra, like he does."

As he murmured her given name, he exhaled heavily and held her even closer. Reaching underneath the veil, he touched her hair and lightly caressed her face and chin. The intimacy of these simple gestures jarred her awake from the dream her mind had created. She backed away, carefully withdrew the veil, and handed it to him with a weak grin on her lips. Looking like himself again, Seymour smiled back and thanked her with a slight nod of his head. The other ladies were buzzing with various speculations, but Ginny ignored them all.

"I don't think he likes me that way," she confided. She didn't know why she said that; he was practically a stranger, someone she had known for less than an hour. Still, she felt nonplussed by saying, "It'll never happen."

As if they were old friends, he said to her, "Nonsense. You're a very pretty witch, Ginevra. He'd be a fool not to see that."

"I'll bet you say that to all the witches."

Amid the cheers of his very pleased audience, Seymour stood up. He winked at Ginny and grinned, saying, "Ah, you're onto me now, love."

With a wave of his hand, the veil disappeared, and he was dressed in his formal robes once more. He walked back to the stage, thanked the ladies for their kind attention, and bid them a pleasant evening. Their applause followed him as he left, and he secretly congratulated himself on a job well done.

A few minutes later, Ginny met him in the foyer to pay him the balance of his fee. Once the bill was settled, the two shook hands, and the entertainer left the manor. She turned around and found herself nose to nose with--

"Hermione! Leaving so soon?" The former housemates regarded one another. It was the first time they had been alone in almost two years, and despite the party atmosphere, there was an undeniable tension in the air. When Ginny looked back on the exchange over the next few days, she could only presume it was the alcohol that had enabled the two of them to behave civilly at all.

The older witch cleared her throat nervously. "Yes, I promised Fred I'd go with him to The Burrow before the wedding, so we need to get an early start. And it is 11:00 . . "

"Maybe you should go," the hostess replied rather coldly.

"Yes. Well." Hermione fidgeted then explained, "I'm sorry, Ginny, but I-I'm just not comfortable here. Something feels . . wrong. And your father-in-law and I, we have a well-known history of intense dislike, and I-I just need to go."

"Suit yourself, Hermione. You always do," she snipped. When she turned to leave, her ex-friend surprised her as she grabbed by the arm.

"Now look, here, Ginny," she hissed angrily. "I've tried to be polite by coming to this thing in the first place. I only did it to make Luna happy. You know I would never set foot in Malfoy Manor, or rub elbows with all those . . Slytherins! Honestly, why couldn't this have been done somewhere else, and without them? You know what they must think of me and my kind," she mocked.

Mrs. Malfoy scoffed at her attitude. "Somewhere else? This is my home, and I like it here. Lucius was kind enough to allow us free reign here for one night; naturally, you would try to ruin everything by taking it as a personal attack on your heritage!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she gritted her teeth. "Good night, Ginny. See you at the wedding."

A rush of cold November air blew in as the door slammed shut behind her. Ginny balled her fists and stomped her foot in frustration. "Why did she even have to come?" she muttered to herself.

She rejoined the others in the ballroom, trying to forget the little tiff and focus on having fun. Apparently inspired by Seymour and his magical gyrating hips, Daphne was using the floor lamp to do a pole-dance. All things considered, she wasn't half-bad, until she pulled the lamp down to the floor and smashed it.

But when no one even bothered to do a Reparo or even look up, she thought that maybe it was getting just a bit late and suggested that the friends call it a night. The idea was met with grumbles and weak moans of protest, but only a couple of the ladies actually rose to get ready to leave.

No longer in a party mood, Ginny hugged Luna good night, thanked Millicent for arranging the entertainment, and told everyone else they were welcome to stay the night. "Just call for Toddy or Shilla to prepare a room for you. We've got dozens," she added tiredly as she trudged toward the stairs.

*****

The next day, dawn seemed to arrive earlier than normal. Before she knew where the morning had gone, Ginny was getting ready to take part in the largest, most stunning wedding the wizarding world would see all season. At least, that's what The Daily Prophet had said.

Ginny sat in her low back vanity chair and leaned toward the mirror. Charmed curlers held her ginger locks in place. Working with a blend of modern beauty products and a spot of good old-fashioned magic, she sought to minimize her flaws and enhance her natural beauty. She applied a soft layer of make-up to make her freckles less noticeable and her eyes more prominent. She had never really liked that her eyes were so small and her brows lacked any definition. A couple of well-placed charms took care of that.

Rhiannon, who was to be the flower girl for the ceremony, had been ready since lunchtime. With as much patience as she could manage, the excited five-year-old alternated between standing still to watch her mother make herself look prettier and walking as she talked to her baby brother. She spoke to him as if the little tyke understood every word she was saying, and as she did, his curious eyes followed her everywhere. She told him that being a flower girl was a really big job and that only big kids got to do it.

When she got bored with that, she danced and twirled around in her fluffy, layered dress. Closing her eyes, the little Malfoy princess spun around and around; as she did, the full skirt of her dress flared out to two to three times its normal size, which pleased her immensely. She tried to stop in mid-spin, which caused her to wobble slightly.

"Mummy," she asked, "is the boy who walks with me at the end the flower boy?"

"No, he's called the ring bearer. Remember at rehearsal? He carries the bride and groom's rings on top of a pillow. It's a very important job, too."

Spellbound, she watched as her mother put the finishing touches on her make-up. "Mummy, do I look pretty, too?" she asked.

"Darling, you'll be the most beautiful little girl there." Rhiannon smiled widely. Turning back to her mirror, Ginny picked up her brush, then with her wand in her other hand, made sure her hair wouldn't lose its curl but not look or feel like it was glued in place.

A soft knock on the door announced that it was nearly time to go. It was already half past one, the house-elf informed them politely. Ginny was to Apparate to the hall where the nuptials were taking place to finish getting ready. She couldn't imagine why it would take so long, but Luna had asked her attendants to show up two hours beforehand. She attributed it to a simple case of pre-wedding jitters.

The anxious little girl started to leave the room when there was another knock on the half-opened door. "Ginevra? Rhiannon? Are you both ready?"

"Yes, Grandpa!" she said as she ran up to him and threw her arms around him. "Oh, Grandpa, I'm so excited!"

"Is this my little poppet? My, don't you look elegant?"

"Yes, I do!" the flower girl declared. Ginny cleared her throat rather loudly and exchanged a glance with her daughter. "I mean . . thank you."

He knelt down before her and placed his hands on her tiny shoulders. "It's a big day for you. Not everyone gets to be in a wedding." She nodded as she grinned from ear to ear.

"Now, run along, my dove. Musn't keep Shilla waiting. She's going to run through the steps with you one last time, so they're fresh in your mind. All right?"

"Okay, Grandpa - bye!"

He strolled over to where Lucas was resting. The toddler was just starting to doze off. Then he watched Ginevra as she put her earrings on. Their eyes met in the mirror.

"What?" she asked.

Lucius smiled then sauntered toward the vanity. "Nothing, really. I was just thinking . . how very nice you look. I like the way you've done your hair. It's quite flattering."

"Thank you," she said, her skin coloring slightly and her heart skipping a beat. Still watching him in the mirror, Ginny reached out absently for the necklace Shilla had laid out for her on the silver tray alongside her cosmetics. She felt her pulse and her breathing quicken slightly; she wondered if Lucius could tell.

He moved ever closer to her at the same maddeningly slow pace. "If you'll pardon me for saying so, my dear," he said huskily, "you look good enough to eat."

He reached out for the tops of her shoulders and rubbed them with care. She instantly stopped fiddling with the clasp on her necklace and dropped it into her lap. His hands gradually moved to the back of her neck and began massaging her, starting with a light touch then slowly increasing the pressure. She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed involuntarily; she didn't realize she was so tense.

Standing over her, he inhaled the scent of her hair then began to stroke it lovingly. She watched his face intently in the mirror. His eyes fell closed as he spread his fingers though her ginger curls and felt their softness. Ginny leaned back a bit to give him better access; when she did, she felt something firm pressing into her back that indicated that he definitely liked her . . . that way. She gasped, and he released a low moan deep in his throat as he moved up against her.

His breathing ragged, he grabbed onto her shoulders and raised her to her feet. He spun her around and kissed her firmly on the mouth. Their desire was raging; no doubt remained in either of their minds as he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. They melted against each another, and Lucius started to feel that familiar ache he got whenever he'd been near her or had been thinking of her, torturing himself with want for her. He placed a hand on her breast and squeezed it gently. She whimpered in response. Despite her clothing, he could tell that it was having the desired effect. Her passion fueling his even further, he groaned and drew her in for another taste of her.

But things were moving too fast. And there was that pesky little matter of the wedding . . although she didn't want to, Ginny broke the kiss. She thought it best they stop now, before neither of them could.

Trying to catch her breath, she urged, "Lucius, can we continue this later? I really need to go--"

"No. We can't," he insisted as he grasped her shoulders firmly and looked deep into her eyes. "I don't want to. And I don't think you do, either." He had waited for her for so long, and he would not be denied. "Besides, there are ways to find more time."

He pulled her body to his and pressed close against her. As he kissed her once more, her eyes fell closed in surrender. Then fidgeting with his robes, he pulled out a time turner and placed it around her neck as well. He turned it two - no, three times, in case two wasn't long enough - and they went back together.

At 10:45 that morning, the room was almost pitch dark, as the drapes were still closed. Glancing toward the cradle, Ginny saw that the baby had not been brought in yet.

"Let's go," Lucius ordered as he threw an Invisibility Cloak over them. The first rule of time travel was to not be seen by anyone, especially themselves three hours before. She didn't know exactly where they would go that they wouldn't be seen - under an Invisibility Cloak was not the best place to have sex, as she and Draco had found out one night in the middle of her sixth year.

When she and Lucius reached the third floor of the manor and turned right rather than left, she took a guess.

"Is it the Room of Requirement, like the one they have at Hogwarts?" she said in barely a whisper.

"You know of it?" He seemed surprised.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Well, Pansy mentioned it once. Said it could contain whatever you wanted or needed." Annoyed that someone outside the Malfoy family knew about the room, Lucius scowled. "According to her," Ginny went on, "Draco tried to bring her up here once to seduce her when she was only 13. She refused, of course."

"I see." He paused momentarily then said, "We're here."

Removing the Cloak with a flourish, he concentrated on his needs, her expectations, what they both required. He pushed open the door, and when he did, she sighed. The room was breathtakingly beautiful, filled with exotic and romantic touches like candles, roses in vases, incense, and a roaring fire in the hearth.

"Does it please you, my dear?" he asked. She nodded mutely.

"Good," he breathed as he kissed her hand and slowly led her to the bed.

~End of Chapter~