A/N: This was written for Boogum's random prompt challenge at rowangreenleaf's DG Forum. There is a link in my profile if you'd like to know more about the forum or see the other responses.

The usual disclaimers apply.

Prompt: Double Trouble

For a charm of powerful trouble,

Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

Double, double toil and trouble;

Fire burn, and caldron bubble.

- Macbeth, Act IV, Scene 1

Ginevra Weasley, it seemed, had developed a taste for champagne.

Draco picked up a champagne flute, watched the redhead sail around the glowing room, and smirked.

She moved about the spacious ballroom with rehearsed grace, swirling the delicate flute of bubbly liquid with a practiced wrist movement, flitting from dignitary to dignitary, charming all.

The girl had blossomed, and the Ministry of International Affair's rising young star seemed to be perfectly aware of her status as the young woman of the hour. Her work on the Wizarding Treaty with Bulgaria and Albania, the last remaining bastions of Voldemort's regime, promised to bring both peace and prosperity to what was shaping into a golden age for the Wizarding World.

"Golden age, indeed," thought Draco, as he sipped the expensive liquid. They were blinded by the glitter.

Leaving the empty glass on a tray, the blond man carefully made his way around the edge of the room. One glance at the young aristocrat revealed that his grace was not practiced, but bred. He smoothly chatted with businessmen and diplomats, all the while keeping an eye on the young witch in the champagne-colored gown.

She had seen him; he was quite sure. Not only did she appear to be deliberately ignoring him, she was also keeping him in her line of sight, and he could tell from the way she nervously fingered her dress that she had her wand strapped to her left leg.

Draco smirked as she picked up another flute of champagne and tapped the glass twice, furtively brushing her eyes past him, snagging for just a moment on his calm grey stare. He caught the glimmer of alarm amid the sparkling confidence and smirked again.

If she wanted to play cat and mouse, he was more than willing to toy with her.

He idly adjusted the button on his jacket and crossed the floor with an easy determination.

"Miss Weasley," he began, taking hold of one gloved hand and drawing it to his lips, gently kissing the white silk, "I do believe I claimed a dance."

She swallowed and made a delicate motion, subtly trying to extricate her hand from his grasp, but he held it fast in his own. The girl's mask needed work if she truly wanted a career in diplomacy.

"I don't think I'm quite ready for a dance, Mr. Malfoy," she whispered with an air of polite dismissal. Draco ignored the underlying venom and gently tugged her out onto the dance floor.

He wrapped a hand around her waist, deliberately slipping it around her back with an almost predatory slowness. "I think you're ready when I say you're ready, Miss Weasley."

He grasped her hand and pulled her toward him as the music began, watching as she struggled to keep her mind on her feet. He easily lead her around the floor with the timing and form of one who has been dancing a Viennese waltz since birth—and for Draco Malfoy, this was not far from true.

"You were avoiding me," he stated calmly. "Why?"

Her chocolate brown eyes shot to his and looked away just as quickly. "I wasn't avoiding you. I was mingling."

"You're lying to me. I think I've been quite clear regarding how I feel about liars," he said, still calm, but allowing her to hear the edge in his voice. He spun her out and pulled her back in, and this time he gripped her waist just a little too hard.

"The truth, Ginevra. You've toiled away on your little treaty and now you've had your champagne toast. You know what happens next."

She bit her lip, and he smugly noted that she was too rattled to answer him. He swept her over to the edge of the dance floor and pulled her out of the room with all the appearance of gentility that covered over his iron grip around her waist.

He found a quiet study and shut the door behind him before slowly advancing on his red-haired prey.

She threw her arms out to block him and hissed, "How dare you try and pull a stunt like this!"

He grabbed both arms almost absently and pinned her against the wall.

"How dare you try and go behind my back. I'd expect as much from a fellow snake, but from you, little lioness, I didn't anticipate such trouble."

"Trouble? I did no such thing."

"Then explain to me why my conditions didn't make their way onto that treaty, yet my recommendations did make your way into the ambassador's home?"

"I won't be blackmailed, Draco. I could get into serious trouble."

"Oh, you have no idea what trouble is, witch. I'm going to show you trouble like you've never seen before."

"You're a bastard."

"No, but apparently my child will be."

Ginny looked as if he'd slapped her, and a protective hand flew to her stomach.

"How did you know?"

"You've had six glasses of champagne, and last time I checked three was enough to make you quite silly. I know a bit of wandless magic when I see it, love," he whispered, meaningfully tapping her cheek twice.

She blushed crimson.

"I didn't lie to you, Draco."

"Of course not, love," he said in mock sympathy, "You just used my connections and my trust to get that much further in this world. Unfortunately, when you play with snakes, you run the risk of getting bitten."

He leaned down and rested a gentle kiss on the curve of her neck. She inhaled sharply and he pulled away, letting his eyes finish the threat his words had started. He drew her toward him slowly, claiming her lips in an easily won battle and gently parting them in victory as she kissed him back hesitantly then reached up a tentative hand and clung to his neck for dear life.

He pulled away but kept a hand on her cheek. "So, love," he drawled, "You owe me one massive treaty and you're, oh, six months or so from owing me an heir. I'd say that's a double dose of some pretty powerful trouble."

Ginny eyed him warily, and Draco couldn't help but admire the slightly deeper red of her gently bruised lips as she licked them warily. "Well, what's it to be then, Draco? Blackmail? Extortion?" she said bravely.

Draco smirked once more. "After you've worked so hard, ask you to give up your precious money? Never, love," he paused, reveling in how well he had trapped her, so many months ago.

"I was thinking marriage."

Fin

A/N: As part of the challenge, this story stands completely alone as a one-shot, but it actually fits into the world of another one of my stories—at a very different place in the timeline. Can you guess which? The Land of Leigh is a complex one, indeed. ^_^

Oh, and do review, please.