Mala Fide: In Bad Faith

Mala Fide: In Bad Faith - Chapter 12

The young witch awoke to find roses in the room - dozens of roses, perhaps a hundred or more. Smiling, she stretched languidly then sat up. On the table by the window, there was a tray with a steaming pot of tea, a carafe of pumpkin juice, toast, orange marmalade, and the Sunday paper.

Not wishing to disturb her new lover, she used her wand to levitate the tray and bring it over to her lap. A simple Balancing Charm ensured it wouldn't tip over or spill. After pouring herself a cup of tea and spreading the marmalade on her toast, she licked the knife impetuously.

She nibbled on her toast as she unfolded the paper and perused the front page. As expected, the 'wedding of the season' was a feature story, followed by alleged sightings of You-Know-Who that made her scoff. All that anyone knew was that he was so deep in hiding, it seemed he might never resurface. He hadn't been seen for years, and his absence brought a sort of uneasy peace to the wizarding world.

The aurors who had been there at the last official sighting of the Dark Lord wouldn't say what had transpired between him and Harry Potter. It was still considered classified, even though the Boy Who Lived had died almost two years ago. In fact, if it weren't for a few obsessive lunatics like Mad-Eye Moody who refused to give up their 'constant vigilance' and a handful of one-time Death Eaters who secretly murmured that he was still alive - just very well hidden - it seemed the world had forgotten all about He Who Must Not Be Named.

Turning the pages as she sipped her honey-sweetened tea, she gave them a quick once-over to see if there was anything about herself or any of her friends. But there wasn't. Mildly disappointed, she sighed. Maybe her girlfriends were right: these days, her life was just too dull to bother with being reported about anymore.

Then at the bottom of page five, she saw something that made her tea come spewing out of her mouth and splatter all over the Daily Prophet. The headline was small and seemingly insignificant; it was anything but. The news was simply shocking! She quickly removed the Balancing Charm on the tray and then levitated it back to the table. Her lap cleared, she slapped her bedmate's bare buttock, causing him to flinch.

"Oww," he protested weakly from his sleep.

"Vincent, wake up!" Pansy cried out. "Listen to this!" She cleared her throat and started to read aloud.

'Could Wedding Bells Soon be

Ringing for the Malfoys?'

By Rita Skeeter

When Ginevra Weasley Malfoy decided to kick up her heels at her best friend Luna Lovegood's wedding reception yesterday afternoon at Marjoribanks Manor, no one was surprised that she would do so with her father-in-law, Lucius Malfoy. Ginevra has lived at Malfoy Manor since her marriage to Lucius's son, the late Draco Malfoy.

However, what did surprise even this reporter, a consummate professional who prides herself on getting to the bottom of every story, was the manner in which the two Malfoys danced. Almost all the couples, even married ones who know each other intimately, danced a respectable distance from one another, as is expected at a large and very public formal gathering. Yet there was almost no space between Ginevra and Lucius. As the dance drew to a close, I saw, with my infallible eyesight, him kiss her.

Now to the casual observer, it might have appeared to be nothing more than a fatherly peck on the young lady's forehead. But the way his lips lingered on her hairline, the way his eyes fell shut as he breathed deeply of her russet hair - which by the way, was exquisitely styled - left no doubt in this reporter's mind that the status of their once-platonic relationship has changed indeed.

I predict their engagement is imminent. When it is officially announced, rest assured I will divulge a full report on it in this column.

Pansy squealed and clapped her hands once. Not quite following why this was such great news, Vincent stated the obvious. "Blimey, he must be 25, 30 years older than her. What does she see in him?"

She smirked. "Well, that doesn't mean that some young witches don't find him attractive." Suddenly, Pansy's eyes went wild with excitement. "Oh, I must contact Millicent! It's not like she reads the paper every day, you know."

"Maybe not, but Marcus does."

Pansy scoffed then asked him with a frown, "What makes you think she'd listen to him?"

He shrugged then rolled out of bed as he stretched and yawned. Strutting about in all his glory, he teased, "Sure you don't want to come back to bed? I promise I'll do that thing with my mouth that you like." He wiggled his eyebrows and snaked his tongue between his lips.

Too distracted to take any notice of her new lover's enticing offer, she searched around for her clothes. "Are any of your fireplaces on the Floo Network?"

"The one downstairs is, but the Flints' fireplaces aren't on it - remember?"

She groaned in frustration. "Oh, shit, you're right. Wait, I think I have that compact Millie gave me at her wedding; I only hope she has hers with her so we can talk."

When Vincent realized she wasn't interested in crawling back into bed with him just yet, he reached for his boxers. "Well, let me get me trousers on first. Don't fancy Millie seeing my willy." Once he finished dressing, he walked over to Pansy and held her face in his massive hands. "I hope you enjoyed last night as much as I did."

"Yes, it was nice," she snipped, brushing him off. It seemed like she was more interested in spreading gossip than she was in him. "Please, Vincent. Give me a moment to adjust the settings on this mirror. Go - go pour yourself some tea."

Annoyed, he sulked as he sat down next to her, thinking, She certainly didn't mind it last night; she was all over me! Pansy had gone to the wedding with Vincent, and the two of them left together just as the reception was winding down. Once they picked up Daniel and Luther from their mother's house, they put them to bed shortly after arriving back at his house.

As they walked slowly away from his children's bedroom, Vincent had boldly taken Pansy in his arms and kissed her. It was a kiss of utter longing, filled with need and want and yearning; she had returned it with equal fervor. Months of pent-up desire and frustration had unleashed itself in a matter of moments. It had been ages since either of them had been in a situation like this, where an opportunity such as this had presented itself so readily - and they intended to make the most of it. They had climbed the stairs as quickly as they could while trying to avoid breaking the kiss and possibly ending the magic.

But the eager couple didn't even make it all the way to the master suite; they'd started shagging near the top of the stairs. After that first hasty, frantic time, they moved into Vincent's bedroom and continued until nearly four in the morning, when physical exhaustion had finally overtaken them both. He'd watched her drift off to sleep then quietly called the house-elf to procure 120 red roses, the scent of which had filled the room that morning.

It had been one of the most incredible nights of the young wizard's life.

He watched her as she fiddled with her mirror a bit more. When she noticed him with that sad, longing look in his eyes, she realized how rude she had just been. "I'm sorry, Vincent. It's just that . . . well, Millie always gets her way, and I just - just want to beat at her at something."

Smiling gently, he touched her hair and said, "That's all right, love. We've got all day." She was still holding the Daily Prophet, so he picked up the other reading material the elf had delivered. There was a new catalogue from Longbottom's Fine Herbology Products and the November and December editions of Potion Masters Monthly.

Once Pansy had the settings on her compact just right, she tapped the edge of its tortoise shell frame with her wand and called out the name 'Millicent Flint'. A ribbon of silver and deep green flickered across the small piece of round glass inside, and her friend's image soon appeared.

However, Millie was not surprised in the least that she had contacted her. In her usual self-assured tone, she assumed that she knew what her old friend wanted. "I guess you must have heard," she said, her voice flat and emotionless.

Pansy felt the wind leave her sail as she was disappointed once more. "Yes," she said, swallowing her pride. She didn't even feel that excited about the news anymore . . . as if it didn't have quite the same shock value as it had a moment ago.

But she wouldn't let her friend get the upper hand this time.

Holding up the paper and wearing a fake smile, Pansy went on as if she didn't care that if Millie already knew; she wanted to tell her anyway. "Yes! I saw Rita's article in the Daily Prophet near the bottom of page 5. Very interesting; do you think she could be right?"

"Rita Skeeter?" Mrs. Flint asked her, dumbstruck. "She did an article on it? What did she say?"

Pansy glanced at Vincent out of the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction. This wasn't going at all how she thought it would. "Well - she predicts they'll announce their engagement any day now."

Squinting her eyes, the young mother shook her head. "Pansy, what on Earth are you talking about?"

"Uh," she replied with a stutter, "uh, th-this, er, this article about Ginny. It says she might be getting engaged. Isn't that what you're talking about?"

"No. I'm referring to Severus Snape's funeral. It's going to be this Wednesday morning. Marcus just got an owl from work about it."

Pansy felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach. "Oh. I-I didn't know yet. Thank you for telling me," she said emptily.

"You will be there, won't you? After all, the man was our Head of House for seven years." During the silence, she studied what she could see of Pansy's surroundings. She didn't recognize any of the furniture as belonging to the Parkinsons, but she thought she could make out the shoulder of a man who was sitting beside her. "Where are you, dear? Who's with you?"

"Oh, uh, Vin-Vincent Crabbe. I'm at his house."

Intrigued, she nodded and hummed, "Mmm . . . I see. How do you do, Vince?"

"Fine, Millie. Yourself?" he replied, barely looking up from his reading. "Tell Marcus I said hello."

She nodded then pursed her lips as she asked curiously, "Now what's all this nonsense about Ginny getting engaged? To whom? She's not even dating anyone. Although Seymour Cox did seem to fancy her at that party the other night . . ."

"Well, no, actually. It's her father-in-law, Lucius Malfoy. Rita Skeeter made, umm, a sort of prediction that the two of them are closer than we all suspected. She thinks they will be announcing a wedding in the not-too-distant future. Wh-what do you think, Millie? Could she be right?"

But somehow, this wasn't as much fun as Pansy had hoped it would be.

Her friend thought for a moment and then chuckled, "Ginny and Lucius, getting married? Rubbish! Rita Skeeter would say anything to sell a paper. Remember during The Triwizard Tournament during our fourth year at Hogwarts? All of that shit she printed about Potter and Granger? It was pure lies. Anyone could tell she was over the moon for her other 'best friend', that penniless, not to mention brainless, oaf Ron Weasley. You know, of course, it was Draco who fed Rita all those lies - ironic, since he ended up marrying Weasley's sister."

"So . . . you don't believe it, Millie? Not a word?"

"No. It's absolute crap." Then after another moment's pause, she snorted and said almost to herself, "Although it might explain a few things," and then stopped.

"What was that?"

Millicent smirked as she glanced away. "Nothing, dear."

The teacher just stared back into the mirror, blinking as she studied Mrs. Flint's enigmatic smile. "I guess. I just wanted to . . . tell you about it." She refolded the paper into fourths, set it aside, and said rather curtly, "Well, of course, I'll arrange to have Wednesday morning off for the funeral. Thanks again for letting me know."

"Not at all. Goodbye, Pansy. See you, Vince." Her image faded away, and she was gone.

Pansy picked up her tea. Vincent had warmed it up for her and added another dab of honey; she grinned at him. "Thank you."

"No problem," he replied, looking up from his reading and smiling back awkwardly. "Looked like things weren't going too well with old Millie, so I thought you could use a little boost."

"You are just too sweet." He blushed as he continued to turn the pages of the magazine resting on his lap. After finishing her tea, she gathered her things to go take a shower. "Sure you don't want to get in with me?" she suggested flirtatiously.

But instead of answering her, he jumped to his feet faster than she thought he was able to. His mouth fell open, and his eyes got very large; he gaped at the pages in his hands. "That Longbottom is a fucking genius! You know, back at school, we all thought he was stupider than Gregory," he said with a little giggle to himself.

Pansy snickered. "No one's stupider than Gregory - although most of us thought you were."

He rolled his eyes and snorted. "Neither of us were stupid; Mr. Malfoy paid our dads to make sure we looked stupid in front of everyone, so Draco would look smarter."

Her lips drew into an even wider smile. "Ah. Now it makes sense," she said with a nod. When Vincent gave her a quizzical look, she raised an eyebrow. "Well, I always wondered how you turned into this gifted potions expert when you were such a dolt at Hogwarts."

He laughed. "Yeah we probably took it a bit too far at times."

"So what's Longbottom done that's so 'genius'?"

He shoved the December magazine into her hands and said, "He's only on the verge of a breakthrough on a hybrid plant whose properties are thought to include reversing the effects of damage to the human mind. It's bloody brilliant!"

She didn't quite grasp the magnitude of it. "So I take it this must be . . . a pretty big deal?"

He shook his head and spread his hands widely for emphasis. "This isn't big, Pansy; this is huge. It could lead to any number of new potions and healing procedures. In fact, he could go down as the greatest herbologist in history."

When she just stared back at him blankly, he looked her straight in the eye and said, "It means he might be able to cure his own parents."

* * * * *

"I'm so happy to see you, Mummy!" the little girl greeted as she bounded into the dining room for breakfast, her empty flower basket from yesterday hanging on her arm.

Ginny looked up from her reading. "Hello, darling. You certainly seem excited this morning." Feeling a bit tired, she couldn't quite muster the same enthusiasm as her daughter.

"Well, of course - it's almost my birthday! And Lucas's, too. He'll be one year old," she exclaimed proudly as she held up one finger. "Shilla told me."

"I know. Isn't that great?"

"Yes! Are you and Grandpa planning a really big party for us?"

"Well, I--"

"With cake and ice cream and presents and clowns with balloons and ponies for my friends to ride? I mean, I have Lady Godiva, but it would be really nice if my friends from Miss Pansy's classroom could ride ponies, too."

When the girl finally stopped to take a breath, her mother tried to jump in. "We'll see about all th--"

"Not Lucas, though. He's too little. He doesn't even know how to have a birthday, but I'll show him. We'll we have lots candy and pumpkin juice and pin the tail on the dragon, and pretend Quidditch, won't we?" She grabbed a blueberry muffin and waved it victoriously, shouting, "Look at me - I caught the Snitch!"

Now that her daughter finally seemed to be finished with her requests, Ginny said, "That's an awful lot of things, Rhiannon. Let me talk to your grandpa." She readied the girl's tea and placed it in front of her, intending to get back to reading the paper. She hadn't even gotten past the first page. All she had done so far was to glance at Neville and Luna's smiling photographs and breeze through the article about them. "Now let your mother read, please."

But the excited child prattled on as if she hadn't heard a word. "It was nice seeing my cousins again yesterday. And I really miss Jamie and Lily Potter. I almost forgot what they look like. When can I play at their house again?"

"Not for a while," Ginny replied noncommittally.

"Well, can they come to my party? Or my cousins? Please?"

She hesitated. "I'm sorry, dear. They can't."

"Why not?" Rhiannon pouted then took a drink of tea.

"I just don't think their parents would want to come here," she explained without looking up from her paper.

"But Mrs. Potter was here a few days ago."

"How did you know that?" her mother asked, frowning.

"I was in bed, and I got up to go to the bathroom. I looked out the window to see if it was snowing, and she just . . . showed up. What's that called again? Miss Pansy told us, but I forgot." She took a huge bite of her muffin.

"Not so much at one time, dear. You might choke. Do you mean Apparating?"

"Appuh . . . rating. Yeah." She giggled. "Sometimes I call it Evaporating." Ginny smiled. "Can't they do that, Mummy?"

"No, children can't Apparate. It takes training, and you need to pass a test."

Suddenly, Rhiannon's eyes lit up, as if she had an idea that no one else had ever thought of before. "They could just use Floo Powder to get here!" Pleased with her quick thinking, she smiled then stuffed the last bite of the muffin into her little mouth.

Ginny sighed. "Well, they could, but . . . your Uncle George and I don't really want to talk to each other."

After a half-minute of beloved silence, the little girl said softly, "You know what? Someone told me that he's your brother. I didn't know you had a brother."

"Yes. That's what makes him your uncle. We are brother and sister."

Confused, she asked, "Is Katie your sister?"

"No, Katie is George's wife. She's my sister-in-law," her mum explained, still trying to read.

"But Mummy, if you have a brother, why don't you want to talk to him? I talk to Lucas every day, even if he doesn't say anything back. And why doesn't your brother come over? Don't you love him?"

This is going to be tricky, Ginny thought as she sighed internally and set the paper to one side.

Well - here goes nothing.

"Yes, I do. But something happened; something that changed me, that changed my family, even my parents, so much that we can't--"

She struggled for words that the young girl would understand.

"We had a fight. A really big fight. We do love each other, but we don't . . really like each other that much."

"Why not?"

This wasn't easy. What to tell her, how to handle this, was more difficult than she had ever thought it would be. Finally, she said, "They think . . I lied about something very important. They think I said some terrible, untrue things about Jamie and Lily's daddy. And until they believe me, I don't really want to see them at all."

"That's sad, because you're so nice. Your mummy and daddy must miss you." She swallowed the last bit of her tea and reached for the pumpkin juice.

Ginny's eyes fell shut as she whispered, "Right."

Her daughter moved over to her then reached up and hugged her. Patting her mother on the shoulder, Rhiannon said, "Don't worry, Mummy. We'll make them listen to you."

When Lucius arrived in the dining room moments later, he too put an arm around Ginny's shoulder. "Everything all right, my dears?"

"Hello, Grandpa. I'm just sad for Mummy because she never sees her family."

He shrugged casually. "She could, if she wanted to. No one's stopping her. In fact, why don't you drop by the Burrow in the next few days, just to say hello? See how everyone is doing? he suggested.

"I don't think it would be a good idea."

"Nonsense! I saw your mother yesterday. She's looking well. I also saw one or two of your brothers."

This was big news to Rhiannon. "You have more than one brother?!" she asked, her face drawn into a smile.

Glaring at Lucius, Ginny answered, "Yes, I have several - all of them upset with me at the moment."

This gave the child yet another idea. "Do they have any kids that can come to my party?!"

At first, Lucius hedged. But moments later, he agreed. "Maybe they should come, Ginevra. Seriously, why don't you go visit your parents today, or maybe tomorrow? Bury the hatchet; it's time, don't you think?"

When she looked away nervously, he stroked her hand and continued softly, "It wasn't as if anything that happened was actually their fault. No one should be separated from their family for so long."

She had no answer to that. Finally, she replied, "All right, I'll think about it."

"Do." Turning to his granddaughter, he asked, "And what does my little poppet have planned for this morning?"

"I want to ride my pony!" she practically demanded. When Ginny frowned at the bossy tone in her voice, the girl said contritely, "I mean, may I please go ride my pony?"

"I don't see why not. Toddy!" he called. The house-elf arrived post-haste with a groveling bow.

"Yes, Master Malfoy?"

"My grandchild would like to ride her pony. Prepare the animal and have someone escort her about the grounds. Make sure she rides especially carefully; we don't want any mishaps."

"Yes, sir. Toddy will be seeing to it right away, sir," he answered, disappearing as quickly as he had arrived.

Noticing that she was not at all dressed in proper riding attire, Lucius took his wand and waved it in front of her.

"My basket!" she gasped, for it had vanished.

"Don't worry - it's safely put away for later," he assured her gently. "Now, Ginevra, doesn't she look dashing?"

Her mother looked on admiringly. But it wasn't the smartly-dressed youngster that she was watching; it was the charming wizard she couldn't take her eyes off of. She was amazed at how sweet and caring he was with her little girl. True, she was his granddaughter - but would any other man ever treat either of her children with such generosity?

All at once, butterflies invaded her stomach. Perhaps marrying him did make a lot of sense. That is, when she was ready.

"Run along now, darling. Enjoy your riding!" Lucius called to Rhiannon as she skipped out of the dining room and through the front door, letting it fall shut behind her.

"Would you like some breakfast?" Ginny asked as he sat down next to her and inched his chair very close to hers.

He scoffed, pretending to be perturbed. "Is that any way to greet the man who adores you? Where's my good morning kiss?"

Almost before the words were out of his mouth, she planted her lips firmly on his and kissed him soundly. She finally withdrew and asked him, "Better?"

"Much."

His heart racing, he gazed into her eyes and saw the love in them. But it was a love that he had no intention of returning - for if he did, it would be the ruin of him. He had nearly fallen in love with Narcissa, once, when she was carrying his son. Love was nothing but a weakness for another, and no Death Eater was ever permitted to be weak. Ever.

No, what he felt for Ginevra was not love; it was lust, pure and simple. It was all part of a carefully-orchestrated duel he was guiding, one where there was no combat and only one of them could win - a duel that was going exactly how he had planned it ever since he set the events in motion that would eventually claim Narcissa's life. The goal of this duel was not to harm his opponent physically, but to get what he wanted.

And what Lucius Malfoy wanted more than anything right now was to see this young woman defy her parents by marrying him in a very public ceremony. It would bring those Weasleys down a notch or two; how would they sleep at night, knowing their only daughter was in his bed, soon to be pregnant with his child? Victory would be oh, so sweet. This already felt better than casting the Cruciatus curse, and above all, it was completely legal.

Ever the master manipulator, he would own her, body and soul . . . and eventually, her mind. He tingled with anticipation as he glanced over her shoulder for a peek at the news, looking for a specific headline.

After dancing with her at the reception yesterday, Lucius had gone out of his way to meet up with Karl. He knew his old friend had a hard-on for anything in a skirt, as well as a love for gossip that no woman could rival.

He'd also noticed Rita Skeeter snooping around the outskirts of the dance floor, eyeing them voraciously, her quill flying at top speed. She had recently suffered some professional setbacks and was looking to get back on top of her game, and he was sure that whatever she saw, she would add her own inflection and print away, facts or no.

He could hardly wait to see what her imagination had drummed up.

The only other questions were which page the editor of the Daily Prophet decided to print it on, how outlandish Rita's remarks would be, and when Ginny noticed the article . . . how would she react?

"Nice photographs," he commented on the newlyweds, even though he really didn't think either the bride or groom was terribly handsome.

Ginny nodded as her fingers slowly moved toward the top corner of page one, indicating she was almost ready to turn it. Anxious to move on, he reached out for the same corner and touched it just before she did. "May I?"

"Sure, go ahead," she replied distantly, as if she were being called back from some faraway place.

He scanned the columns of text as he flipped through the pages. Finally, he saw it, in the bottom right corner of page five: the very gossip he had hoped to spread by his behavior the day before. A surge of victory filled his chest.

Well done, Rita.

He gasped. "Oh, dear."

"What is it?" Ginny asked, puzzled and genuinely concerned. Unlike most everyone else she knew, nothing the Daily Prophet printed ever took Lucius Malfoy by surprise.

"It's--"

He paused then sighed. This was something she had to read for herself; he slid the paper directly in front of her. "This," he finished.

She grabbed it impatiently and began to peruse the page. When she caught the headline with their family's surname in it, her face went from curiosity to shock to anger in quick succession.

"Who does she think she is? How could she imply such assumptions, such . . . bold-faced lies! And where did she get her facts? I know you didn't talk to her, and I certainly didn't. Oh, that's right; Rita Skeeter doesn't rely on facts! Yet she calls herself a--" She read as sarcastically as possible, quoting from the article itself. "'A consummate professional who prides herself on getting to the bottom of every story.' Ha! That's a load of dragon dung! I am going to their offices tomorrow and make them wish they'd never hired that lying sl--"

"Darling," Lucius quietly interrupted her diatribe, "it may be my fault."

"Yours?" she hissed. "How? You didn't grant her an interview, did you?"

"Well . . . not exactly." He hesitated briefly. "At Narcissa's funeral, do you remember seeing or meeting a witch with very pale skin and jet black hair? She thinks that keeping it dark makes her look younger, but instead, it accentuates every line on her face."

Ginny shook her head. "No, not - not really. I wasn't quite myself back then."

"She was the last person to leave. Verla von Krauss is her name, and I, er, spoke with her husband Karl yesterday. You see, Karl, he's . . . well, to put it bluntly, he's a horny old man who's got a thing for young witches. He saw you and I dancing together and made some lascivious comment about your beauty and your being so much younger than me." He stopped and pursed his lips. "I'm sure he was just jealous."

Still not seeing any connection to the article, she shrugged. "But what does that have anything to do with this?"

"Verla was one of Narcissa's roommates in school, along with an ambitious young girl named . . . Rita Skeeter. In fact, she and Verla are still very close."

Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place. Could Lucius have inadvertently provided Rita with a scoop too scrumptious to resist? Ginny swallowed as her face went red. Her mind raced, grasping for memories of the day they laid Narcissa to rest. Had she spoken that day, even in casual conversation, to a dark-haired witch with a ghostly-white complexion? It seemed like that day was ages ago, almost as if it had happened in another lifetime.

Returning to the present, she asked him sharply, "Did you tell Karl we were engaged or in any way serious about each other?"

"No, of course not! He must have assumed that, based on what he saw. When he asked if we were a couple, I answered in very vague terms - not saying yes - but in case you agree to my proposal, not saying no either. He must have just . . . worked it out for himself."

After a slight pause, he stroked her hand and asked, "Was I wrong to do that, darling?"

She laughed nervously. "No, I suppose not. I guess it was all presumption on their part. That, and bad journalism. Not the first time for Rita - and it won't be the last."

"I could force them to print a retraction," Lucius offered as an act of penance, "if you want me to. The Malfoy name still counts for something in some circles."

Ginny considered it briefly then waved her hand and put it to her eyebrow. "No, the damage is done. That is, not that being engaged to you would be 'damage'; it's just that . . . I didn't want the world to know just yet, least of all, my family - all of whom are probably going through the roof right about now." She groaned as her face fell into her hands.

Feeling her disappointment, he cringed slightly as he stroked her arm. "I'm sorry this happened. I only want to make you happy."

When she didn't say anything, he cautiously broached the subject article alluded to. "So, have you given any more thought to what I asked you yesterday?"

She raised her head; her eyes were brimming with tears. Her thoughts rather incoherent, she didn't know how to express what she longed to tell him.

"I-I don't know if it's - well, if I should say yes. Rita does make a valid point: we are related by marriage, and as such, I'm torn between the depth of the feelings I have for you and, er, you know, whether it's altogether . . . proper." She bit her lip and asked, "Do you know what I mean?"

He exhaled heavily and placed his hands purposefully on the table in front of him. The look on his face was a mixture of anguish, humiliation, and disappointment. Just seeing it made Ginny wish desperately that she could take back what she'd said, or perhaps say it differently. Yet she felt she had to raise the issue; it needed to be discussed, for there were bound to be repercussions - things that involved people who lived beyond the walls of Malfoy Manor.

Staring at the contrast of his fingers against the dark mahogany of the table, he seethed and said slowly, "Are you saying that simply because my son was once your husband, you would consider marrying me somehow . . . inappropriate? Or that other people would think it so?" As he spoke, his piercing eyes turned to hers. The fire in them penetrated her soul. She couldn't bear his gaze and looked away.

He pounded his fist on the table loudly.

"Is that my fault? Are you and I to suffer forever with this, this undeniable love, this unquenchable desire to be together, merely because of what other people think? You accepted me! You want me; you gave yourself to me freely. It was so important to both of us that we--"

He stopped. Then he added very slowly for emphasis, "That we manipulated time to be together."

Lucius took her hands in his and said calmly, "Look at me. You are a free woman. I want you for my wife, and our getting married would be no more wrong than if you had married someone else. The fact that you were once my son's wife is irrelevant."

She glanced away from his penetrating stare. He concluded by stating, "Besides, I didn't think what other people thought would ever bother you. It's one of the things I admire most about your character."

When she finally found her voice, Ginny replied, "No, you're right. I don't care what people think. I was only thinking of . . . my family. I do still love them, you know."

"Which is all the more reason you should go visit them," he said, his tone peaceful and encouraging. "Talk to them. I'm sure everything can be set right. Personally, I think both of you are carrying this grudge thing a bit too far. You can't hold it against them forever."

Ginny sighed. "Okay. I'll go. But only when I'm ready to. Now please stop asking me." He nodded.

"Oh, by the way, dear," he said as he took a plate and started to fill it with sausages, eggs, and fruit, "there was an owl earlier this morning. Bad news, I'm afraid. Severus Snape's funeral is on Wednesday morning. Are you up to going?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked as she refolded the paper and set it aside. "He and I became quite good friends during his last few years." He didn't respond; she read the rest of the paper as he ate his breakfast in silence.

~End of Chapter~