I have been at Malfoy Manor for a week since my run in with Percy. I have not heard from him or Padma since their hasty departure, but I'm trying not to over think the situation. I'm channeling my energy down more constructive avenues; my health being one of them. I feel healthier and I think I've gained weight. My clothing fits better than it has since Dad died. Lucius had a few articles of clothing placed in my wardrobes, but not a full wardrobe, and my clothing from my old life seems dingy and old to me now. More so now than it ever did before. I'm sure it has something to do with my surroundings, a bedroom the size of The Burrow, and bathroom just as enormous, and five near empty wardrobes.

Lucius left early this morning, but I was already awake, having tea and toast in a breakfast nook. I was almost startled to see him. He has been gone frequently these past several days. He leaves either early in the morning before I'm awake, or stays closed up in his study and vanishes when I take my morning walk.

I put down my book (a bodice ripping romance novel) when I saw him standing there, tapping his foot impatiently.

"I have said your name three times Ginevra," he said crisply. "I hope I'm not disrupting you."

He was actually, but I chose not to say it aloud.

"Yes?" I knew I was being rude, but it was more polite than I wanted to be so I took the compromise.

"I would like you to go shopping today," he dropped a bag of gold on the table. "You look well and I would like to see you in something more. . . . becoming."

His lip curled and he sneered at my night gown, but said nothing that might set me off or make me refuse the gold.

He left after telling me that he would be home late evening and to stay at Stella's luncheon for cocktails if I wanted. The real reason he wanted me to go shopping.

Tinker has insisted on coming with me, to carry my bags, and undoubtedly to keep tabs on me.

I feel the weight of the gold in my hands like a bag of marbles or stones. I have never held so much money before, more than a thousand Galleons. But this must be nothing to Lucius.

Diagon Alley is buzzing with people. It is almost completely recovered from the war. I usually see people I know, those of which are left at any rate, but today no one seems to notice me. I'm wearing a dark red cloak and my hair in a sleek bun at the base of my neck.

The first shop I walk into is one that I have never been able to afford so much as a pair of socks in before. The bell rings my arrival and Tinker hovers near my feet.

"Ah," says a well dressed young clerk. "Miss Weasley!"

She crosses the distance of the shop and takes my cloak. She has light blonde hair in a neat chignon, and a smart set of purple robes on.

"Mister Malfoy informed us yesterday that you would be in," she beams. "What are we looking for today?"

"Clothing?" I offer lamely.

The clerk bursts into laughter.

"But of course miss! Why don't you go back to be measured and I'll bring you some things that you might like."

"That sounds nice." It really does. I don't even know where to begin.

The clerk, Georgiana, brings me several robes that would make Hagrid look elegant. She declares that they make me look like a celebrity, and that they are very fashionable. I end up buying several sets in a variety of colors. I also buy a cloak and gloves that are lined with rabbit fur.

But when I go out into the street again I feel lost and out of sorts.

"Miss!" Tinker squeaks. "If Tinker can be so bold Miss, Tinker has heard from other elves that Gorge and Pines is having fine clothing for their young Mistresses."

I feel a rush of gratitude towards Tinker. I nod and let her lead me through the street. I pass a group of witches who look at me with interest. I know my picture has been all over that rag of Rita Skeeter's. They must know that I am engaged to Lucius Malfoy, and I'm sure they are wondering what he's doing with the likes of me. I wonder it myself. Not that I think Lucius is better than me. He isn't, contrary to what he may believe. But I admit that his social standing, his connections, and his money will always succeed my own.

The witches stare at me with thinly veiled looks and I feel hot and uncomfortable. I slip into a shop with out so much as glancing up at the sign.

Tinker follows me dutifully.

"Miss Weasley?" An older witch who I have never met before looks up from her perch at the counter as I walk in. Does everyone in England know my name?

"Hello," I murmur. And I fully look around the shop, desperate not to exit into the group of gossip mongers outside.

It is small, but I smile as I examine the clothing. There are robes and cloaks along with accessories. But what really thrills me, what I hope will drive Lucius up the wall, is the muggle clothing I see.

"Can I help you find anything Miss Weasley?" The older woman, maybe she would be Mum's age, moves from behind the counter. She has black hair streaked with silver, and is wearing magenta lipstick.

"Yes," I know I shouldn't do this, but it cannot be helped. "I'm looking for some muggle clothing." I run a pair of black stretch pants through my fingers.

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Oh, well I'm sure I can help you find something spectacular. Is this for an event? Perhaps a muggle born charity?"

I'm sure that is the only reason she can think Lucius Malfoy's fiancée would ever consider wearing muggle clothing. But I promptly dismiss her of that notion.

"No, no I enjoy muggle clothing actually." I hold up the stretch pants for further inspection, dismissing her puzzled look. "I'll try these on."

"Of course Miss! I'll show you back to the fitting room, my name is Rhoda if you need anything; alterations, a cardigan to match. . ."

"Yes, a cardigan would be lovely." I'm feeling bolder now, and I relish in the knowledge that this will get back to Lucius in one way or another. Either he will read about it, if Rhoda blabs to the Beetle, or he will see me in the clothing at one point or another. I suppose we live together now, after all.

Tinker hangs up my cloak and robes as I shrug out of them and into the iniquitous black stretch pants.

They look fantastic.

They fit in all the right places. They hug my bum and legs and have a small slit up the backs of the ankle. Rhoda brings me a lavender tank top to try on with it, and a cream colored cardigan.

I don't understand why Hermione didn't wear more muggle clothing, because the things Rhoda is bringing are amazing.

I end up buying three pairs of stretch pants, six tanks, five tight skirts, a pair of something Rhoda called jeans, and three cardigans. I also purchase new unmentionables and a new night gown as well. Rhoda tried to get me to try on new lingerie, but I couldn't do it. Baby steps. I think the lacie bras and undies will have to suffice for now. And anyway, Lucius hasn't touched me since I came to Malfoy Manor.

I half expected him to want his due for saving my life, but he hasn't tried anything. I'm not really sure how I feel about it either.

"What about shoes Miss Weasley?" Rhoda brings me out of my musings.

"Yes," I pause. I was going to say more, but Rhoda is gone and back in flash with several boxes of shoes levitating behind her.

Seven pairs of heels, two boots, and three ballet flats later, I arrive back at the manor. Lucius, true to his word, is gone.

I find that I don't have time to dwell on it though; I have to be fashionably late to Stella Bedivere's in twenty minutes.

Tinker is a life saver when it comes to getting ready on time. She vanishes my clothing and recommends a set of the robes I purchased earlier today. I twist my hair in a chignon, inspired by Georgiana, and sweep on a light dusting of makeup.

Even I have to admit that I look nice.

I am ten minutes late when I arrive in Stella's floo.

"Ginevra!" She exclaims, rising to her feet. She wears her long blonde hair loose and a black dress with flowing sleeves.

There are three other witches there that I have never met.

"This is Ginevra Weasley!" She introduces me to the other women. They all seem to be in there late twenties to early thirties.

"This is Myrna Foal," she gestures to a witch with dark brown tresses and a narrow countenance. "Heather Nott," she gestures to another witch in pale blue robes with smooth black hair in a neat bob.

"A pleasure, Miss Weasley," she says through a sip of tea.

"And this is Persephone Gregory," she gestures to yet another woman in a bottle green dress.

I have a seat when all of the introductions have been made. Stella does not summon an elf to pour our tea, as I half expect her to, but pours it herself while talking amicably with her guests. If anyone else thinks this is strange, they keep it to themselves.

Stella inquires about Myrna's new brother in law, an Italian ambassador who works at the Ministry. The other women listen interestedly.

"Perhaps Lucius has seen him at the Ministry, Ginevra?" Heather Nott is looking intently at me.

"Perhaps," I say slowly. "I'll have to remember to ask him." I'm sure I'll do nothing of the kind.

"So Ginevra," Heather presses. "When will the wedding be? Do you have a date set?"

Oh god! They are all looking expectantly at me. I'm sure they are going to want every detail of a wedding I'm not planning. A coordinator stopped by the Manor last week to meet with me, at Lucius' insistence, and I left most of the planning to her.

"Two weeks," I sip my tea to stall. "I had a dress fitting yesterday."

They all look at each other appreciatively.

Heather Nott looks as though she has every intention of asking another question when Stella intervenes.

"Yes," Stella says breezily. "Malfoy Manor will be a splendid venue. I hear the guest list will be very exclusive; less than seventy people."

This is news to me, but I nod anyway.

"Ginevra," Heather presses. "Forgive me, but how did you and Lucius meet? The two of you seems so-"

"Lunch will be served in the drawing room!" Squeaks a small male elf.

Lunch is served, by elves this time, and the timing couldn't be more perfect. The other witches move into the drawing room and I trail behind, not wanting to be drawn into conversation. Stella, however, looks back at me and winks slyly.

As I watch her entertain, I find myself wanting to know more about Stella Bedivere. Her Manor is smaller than Malfoy Manor by more than half, but lavish all the same. The drawing room is light and airy, and definitely has a feminine ambiance. Cream colored upholstered chases and love seats with lush looking light blue throw pillows. Rich marble coffee and end tables, and a large bay window with blue silk cushions in the seat.

She inquires about her guests, myself included, but steers the conversation away from any probing questions Heather Nott might have about Lucius and myself. She seems to remember small details about her guests and has a way of flattering people without making it seem like work. The conversation stays light through lunch and Stella looks at me knowingly a few times when the others' attention is otherwise occupied.

I hope Lucius doesn't expect me to be like this; charming and engaging. The old me might have been able to pull it off, but certainly not now.

After a late lunch, Heather is the first to leave; explaining that she has a dinner engagement at a snooty restaurant in London.

The other ladies stay. Myrna is telling Stella, Persephone, and I guess me, about her "nightmare" holiday she and her new husband took to Paris last month.

Stella tells her own, and much more entertaining, tale of her trip to the Greek islands. She met a younger man named Eros and spent the entire four weeks wearing nothing but him and a smile.

Apparently they met in the flower market and he saved her from certain embarrassment when she unwittingly made a social blunder. Then he took her to dinner and introduced her to some kind of liqueur unique to his island.

"Do you keep in touch?" I cannot help but ask, after she finishes.

"No," Stella says wistfully. "He's engaged to a native girl. And anyway," she smiles beguilingly. "I've been married once already, and it was enough. My trysts and friends can keep me company."

Myrna looks as though she has swallowed a lemon, but says nothing.

"Ladies," Stella stands up. "Who is joining me for my signature cocktails? I think I've perfected the recipe and have been dying to try them out on someone. The liquere I use is the same one introduced to me in Greece."

Myrna is the first to refuse.

"Thank you for your hospitality Stella," though she doesn't look at all as though she means it. "But I really must be on my way."

"Regretfully," Persephone also rises. "I must be going too. My mother is arriving from British Columbia tomorrow, and I need to make some last minute arrangements."

I feel like I should leave too. I don't want to overstay my welcome, but before I can even speak Stella says;

"Oh, that's a pity. Ginevra and I will have to try and finish them ourselves. Another time perhaps."

She looks expectantly at me and I nod in spite of myself.

When the rest of her company is gone Stella breathes a great sigh.

"I apologize for my other guests Ginevra, may I call you Ginny?" I nod again. "I wanted to get to know you better today, but Heather Nott is. . ." She trails off without finishing her sentence, but it isn't necessary.

"Why don't you try one of my cocktails?" She beams.

A tray of light blue frothy drinks appear on the coffee table and she hands one to me. It is the best drink I've ever had. I'll have to be careful; I can't taste the alcohol. I don't want to have to stumble "home," too drunk to apperate or floo.

Stella tells me, at my quarry, more about her vacation to Greece and the interesting young Eros.

I haven't had a conversation with another woman like this in a long time, and after four drinks, I feel my guard coming down. It feels good to have a friend. My friendship with Padma was always one-sided. I always felt as though she spoke to me when she needed a shoulder to cry on and there was nobody else.

"And you were married before?" The question, though none of my business, slips form my lips before I can stop it.

Stella too, has had four drinks and doesn't seem to mind.

"Yes," She sighs, flipping her long blonde mane over one shoulder. "What a disaster that was. This was his vacation home." She smiles impishly. "I got it in return for not sullying his reputation after we divorced. Do you like it?"

"Oh yes," I gush. "I love the color scheme and the bay windows."

"Thank you," she graciously intones.

We talk for another three hours. I feel as though a weight has been lifted off of me. I feel giddy and light hearted for the first time since I don't know when. I had forgotten what idle chat felt like. Or what it felt like to be in the company of someone you truly enjoy. Though to be fair, Lucius hasn't been as bad as I thought he would be.

"So Ginny, I have to know, how is Lucius?" She raises her eyebrows so there is no misunderstanding to her meaning.

"Oh." I'm not really sure what to say. We've only done it the one time, and I was drunker than I am now. I tell her as much.

"I see," she nurses another sip of the blue liquid. "Have you tried anything to encourage him to be more, ah, friendly?"

"No." I say too quickly. "I'm not really sure how to broach the subject." Not that I've even thought about it, but the alcohol and Stella's stories are making me feel daring and a little frisky.

"Well, my best alliances have always been black underwear and red lipstick." Stella looks at me appraisingly. "But I think, considering your hair, that clear lip gloss will be marvelous. Tighter clothing would be amiss either," she recommends.

When I leave through the floo I thank her and we make plans for the following week, right before the wedding, to get together.

I stumble out of the fireplace in the foyer of Malfoy Manor. I meant to get off at the grate in my private chambers but was afraid I would miss it.

The Malfoy family portraits either stare stonily at me or look away as I walk by. I'm sure no Malfoy in history has ever been drunk. Snobs.

My rooms are warmly lit and there is a fire in the hearth when I arrive. I also smell the faint aroma of lavender.

My shopping bags are nowhere to be seen. I'm sure Tinker put them away the moment I left Stella's. My bed looks very inviting to me and I plop onto it as soon as I shuck my cloak onto the floor.

I should be exhausted after my shopping excursion this morning and then drinks with Stella. But I'm feeling a little restless. The story of the amazingly handsome sounding Eros makes me feel jumpy, but not in a bad way. For the third time today I undress and start looking for my new nightgown.

I start in the dresser closest to me but find only Weasley sweaters. I close the drawer a little too hard and look in another drawer but alas, socks and nylons.

Where would Tinker have put it?

I open the maple armoire and find it, and a matching robe I don't remember buying, hanging neatly on a hanger. I also find something else, the nefarious black stretch pants.

I can't help but slip them on with a matching black tank top. I feel just as amazing as I did in the shop, even better after Stella's party. I look in the mirror and pull my hair out of the chignon and let it flow freely down my shoulders. Then I reach into the top drawer of my vanity until I find it, clear lip gloss. Stella, it seems, was right. This suits me perfectly.

I feel sexy and naughty and a little bit drunk. I wonder if Lucius is home.

"Tinker?" I whisper softly, unsure how to summon the house elf.

"Miss is calling Tinker?" The elf pops into existence with a deep curtsey in her tea towel.

"Is Lucius here Tinker?"

"Yes Miss!" She squeaks. "Shall Tinker tell Master that Miss is wanting him?"

"No!" I say far too loudly. "No Tinker, that won't be necessary. Where is he? Do you know?"

"Master is in the library Miss!"

"Thank you Tinker," I smile to myself.

"It is a pleasure to serve you miss! Is you needing anything else?"

"A firewhisky?" I don't know what I'm doing, but it feels good. The drink appears before me and Tinker disappears with a crack.

I shoot it down and feel it burn all the way down my esophagus and into my stomach. I'm going to find Lucius. I'm not sure what he'll say about my attire, but I'm prepared to find out. It's been ages since I drank, the ball notwithstanding, and my tolerance is low.

I make my way to the library, half stumbling. The portraits whisper and eye me with even more disregard than they did when I was only drunk. They rustle in their frames as I pass in my muggle clothing.

The library door is open a hair and the fire burns lowly in the grate. Lucius is sitting, feet propped up on a low foot stool, with a book in hand. I have never seen him so relaxed. He is wearing spectacles low on his nose, and takes a sip of an amber colored drink.

I don't know if it is because I'm drunk, or lonely, or even grateful to him, maybe it's all three. But whatever the reason is, I cannot deny that I want him right now.

He looks up at me with a furrow in his brow as I push the door open and slide into the room.