Lessons

Chapter Three – In Which He Proposalses

Draco's beachside flat was spacious - with far too much room for a lonely bachelor. Ginny followed him into the parlor, her eyes traveling over the antique furniture and the soft oriental rugs. There were dour paintings on the walls, framed in heavy gold-dusted wood and hung above vases of orchids and ferns. The balcony door was open, allowing light and salty ocean air to generously pour in. It was entirely removed from Malfoy Manor, yet it resonated the same sense of elite luxury.

He motioned for her to sit at small Victorian breakfast table already laid with shortbread cookies and chrysanthemum tea. Ginny sat and took the china cup he offered her, taking a small sip before setting it down. Her piano was nowhere in sight. She bit her lip, waiting for him to mention his aforementioned proposition. Draco, on the other hand seemed content to observe her and wore a small smirk that reminded her of the pointy-chinned boy from Hogwarts.

They sat in silence until he finished his tea, after which he rose and led her through large double doors to what appeared to be the sitting room. Once he stepped back to give her an unhindered view, her breath froze and her heart clenched. There was her piano, set in an empty corner, newly polished and finished.

"I had it tuned," he said, but she barely heard him.

He walked over to it and ran his fingers across the keys, creating an awkward jumble of notes. Ginny's gaze shifted to him, waiting for permission to touch her beloved instrument.

With a cocky grin, he moved aside. She stepped forward slowly, not wanting to seem desperate, but finding it hard to conceal her excitement. She sat on the dark wooden bench, and lifted her hands to the keys. B minor, C sharp major, sonatas, etudes, dolce, legato – it was her soul. It was her turn to speak and she closed her eyes and played.

She lost herself in the notes and found herself back at the burrow, back in the days before the war. Harry, Hermione and Ron were out in the yard tossing garden gnomes and laughing over a forgotten joke. Somewhere upstairs, explosions sounded off from Fred and George's room while Percy worked away in his room. In the midst of all the chaos, Ginny's music brought the family together in quiet conversation after dinner. The past was the present and for a few melodies, everything was forgotten. Marcus Flint was only another student from Hogwarts and Lissy was merely Bill and Cecilia's baby girl.

It wasn't until Draco Malfoy cleared his throat that she remembered that she was in his sitting room, playing a piano that was no longer hers. He lay recumbent on a loveseat, watching her as if appraising her skill.

"Adequate, Weasley."

He had to hold back a smirk when her eyes narrowed in annoyance. She was beautiful when she played, as if the sonority of the music embellished the green specks in her eyes or sleeked the golden streaks in her auburn hair. She was beautiful and he was enchanted, secretly hoping that Marcus never saw his bride glowing like she was now.

"You're probably wondering for what proposition I had in store for you?"

She continued to hold him with her steady gaze and Draco felt vaguely unsettled by this conversation with himself, as if he were talking to a wall.

"I never had the opportunity to the learn an instrument and happening upon you and your piano seemed to be the perfect time to start."

Draco rose and opened a tiny drawer on the side of the coffee table, pulling out a sheet of parchment and quill. She grabbed the quill nimbly and words appeared quickly on the sheet.

"In return for my piano, I will give you as many lessons as there are keys on this piano."

He almost smiled, that was plenty of time to figure where her loyalties lay and if she would be willing to aid him in spying on her husband. She smiled slightly and held out her pale hand, which he shook gravely. Her hands were soft and now that he was close to her, he could smell a faint fragrance of roses and blueberries.

Ginny returned home feeling lighter and more hopeful than she had in weeks. As despicable as Malfoy's company was, it would release her from the tension and monotony of Marcus' household. The best part was that she had contact with her piano and knew that it was in good hands. Of course the lessons must remain a secret from her husband, which wouldn't be hard since he had no interest in her day.

In fact, it seemed he would pay her no heed since she refused to sleep with him. She was virtually ignored at dinner by both Marcus and Lissy as they chatted animatedly over one inane matter or another. Ginny felt a tinge of jealousy as she watched her daughter's affection for him grow. Marcus spoiled her with anything and everything she wanted and who was Ginny to object? So she watched helplessly as Lissy grew accustomed to their new home, finding carefree happiness capable of only a child in the ostentatious mansion. Ginny had no power in the household and even the servants paid little attention to the mistress of the manor.

They gossiped about her behind her back and Lissy did little to ameliorate the situation with her endless tales of how Ginny lost her voice, about Ginny's fictional ex-husband, about lies...

The day of the first lesson arrived, stormy and turbulent. She awoke to the pounding of rain on the French doors leading to the balcony. She dressed quickly and carelessly after her morning bath, tugging a pine-green turtleneck on above a woolen knee-length skirt. As lightening flashed like gold bars in cotton across the grey skies, she wondered how he planned on transporting her to his mansion. It was not a day to ride double on his broomstick. Miserably, she pulled on her coat and stepped into the rain, tying her tangled wet curls into a messy ponytail. She followed the path to the beach and tread across the soaking sand to where she had first run in to Malfoy. The spot was disturbingly close to the roaring ocean with raging waves lashing angrily against the beach.

She clutched the neck of her hood and shivered beneath the unforgiving army of raindrops. Finally, she heard what seemed to be the whining of horses above her and a carriage descending from the dark, grey clouds. Malfoy's blonde hair and hand quickly appeared through the carriage door.

"Get in!" He shouted over the noise of the storm.

Clutching his hand, Ginny stepped into the compartment, yanking the door shut behind her. Draco leaned back into the plush dark cushions, his blonde hair and fair skin stark against his surroundings. The Vestals soared them into the sky in a twisted parody of Santa's sleigh. She felt strange in the warm carriage, as if she ruined its pristine comfort with her goosebumps and soaked clothes.

He dried her off with a spell and offered her a cup of tea. She took it, gratefully wrapping her frigid fingers around the hot cup. His eyes were on her, cool with some unseen emotion - disdain? Pity? She looked away.

"Have you had breakfast, Mrs. Flint?"

She shook her head.

"Good, neither have I. First will be scones and hot chocolate. Do I have your permission?"

As if you need my permission, she thought but gave her approval with a nod.

"We should have a form of communication between us, Weasley."

She shrugged and sipped the tea, as if to say she had little want of conversing with him anyway.

They arrived at the apartment and Draco lead her into the sitting room once more. Set with breakfast, the coffee table was set with yet another elegant tea set and steaming scones. Silent as always, she sat down when he did and ate when he ate. He watched her and she felt self-conscious under his unnerving gaze.

I was a rotten child. I sneered at those less fortunate than I - the poor, the mudbloods, the unattractive. Yet I sometimes wondered if all my money, my pure blood, and good looks really made me more fortunate than them. I was, after all, raised to be a rotten child.

I was disciplined the way my father was disciplined and my grandfather before that - to hold the Malfoy name above everything else because it WAS above everything else. I suppose it was this very doctrine that led me away from joining the Dark Lord's cause. My intelligence couldn't help but see flaws in his actions and at the root of it all, he was merely a half-blood lunatic and I was a Malfoy.

And she was a Weasley. By my sixth year, she was the belle of Hogwarts. She could have anyone, a seventh year Ravenclaw, a sixth year Hufflepuff pursued by every girl in his house, even the great Harry Potter. But never me.

I played the very part my father intended me to - the snobby brat who terrorized those against Voldemort's inner circle. My father's bigotry didn't make me blind to the world around me - if nothing else I was an intelligent teenager, and I could grudgingly see the competency of the Mudbloods around me. Though I was unready to accept them as my own equal, I knew that they were more worthy than Crabbe and Goyle.

My father died not long after I secretly joined the Order unbeknownst to my betrayal. He left this world believing I was still the boy he molded. As far as any of the Death Eaters' are concerned, I still am. My mother committed suicide shortly after my father's death. I suppose even the black-hearted can love, or something like it, but nothing is ever black or white.

Working with the order was a surreal experience. People that were the epitome of everything I hated were now the people I depended on most to keep my dangerous secret. Every Death Eater meeting, every summon from the Dark Lord left me in a panic. Everywhere I went I felt as if someone was watching me, Death Eater or perhaps even one of the Order. I knew I had to get away from the epicenter of it all and I did both the Order and the Dark Forces a favor by leaving England.

I still was of some service, but then again I never wanted my life on the line in order to defeat the Dark Lord. I simply no longer wanted to serve him or his brainless followers. But I wasn't Harry fucking Potter.

End of Chapter Three