Part II
Second installment!
Ginny arrives, Ron is testing, and an unexpected visitor shocks the group.
More thanks to alliekiwi and alexia75 for their beta help and ideas.
“Sir Harry, Miss Weasley is in the Drawing room.” The footman bowed.
“Ah, shall we greet her then?” Harry smiled around the breakfast table.
“Oh, yes, I am very much looking forward to making her acquaintance again!” said Hermione. “It is so pleasant to meet ones friends again after so long a time.”
Ron quirked an eyebrow at her.
“I am gratified that my presence is so agreeable to you! Or am I not included in this ode to friends rediscovered?”
She coloured and started. Harry groaned inwardly. Really, it seemed Ron could provoke her most strongly! She glowered at him, before sweeping out of the room with a studied unconcerned toss of her head. Though Harry swore he heard her mutter, “Why did I let him affect me so?” as she passed.
Harry glanced at Ron.
“Laying it on a bit thick there…” there was no mistaking the chastising tone in his voice.
Ron looked at him sheepishly.
“I am sorry, Harry. It’s just… the cold front our Miss Granger has put up against me is irksome in the extreme, and forgive me if I like to… provoke a fiery reaction to help it thaw!”
Harry had to laugh at this reasoning. “Very well. Only please refrain from provoking any real rages… I had enough of them when we were young!
Ron looked at him in surprise. “Were we really like that?” He appeared to think back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I suppose we did have a very tempestuous relationship…”
Harry smiled at him. “I assure you, my friend, Hermione and yourself have always been able to get under one another’s skin!
Now it was Ron’s turn to look discomfited. “She is not under my skin, Harry!”
Harry thought that he would do well to be silent on this matter for the time being.
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A tilted head draped ringlets across a rounded shoulder, a charming smile spread across her features as she rose to meet them.
“Sir Harry!” Miss Weasley uttered in sweet tones that expressed her happiness.
“It has been many years since we last met!”
He watched her self assured address, and marvelled at the change in her. Gone was the slim, fairy-like girl who had darted away from her brothers’ friends, the schoolroom miss who appeared before supper, only to be whisked away, obviously relieved, to the confines of the schoolroom. His eyes beheld a young woman of rare prettiness. Her figure had rounded into a sweet plumpness, her snowy skin served to create a dramatic backdrop for her fiery russet curls. Liquid brown eyes framed by delicate lashes met his directly, and a delicate rosebud mouth rested in the sweetest of smiles. Dressed in a modish though simple gown of pale primrose, Miss Weasley was indeed a most pleasing young lady. But had he not heard from Ron that she had been a most successful debutante, in demand as a dancing partner by many young gentlemen?
Why, and to think he had expected to see a mere child! Ruefully, Harry reflected that his melancholy habits and fear of the malicious scheming of young ladies intent on capturing him as a prize had led him to become somewhat of a recluse in the world, or surely he would have noticed Miss Weasley before now.
He smiled back with sincere pleasure.
“Miss Weasley, may I welcome you to my home? You are very welcome here!”
Ron gave a loud snort of laughter, which made Ginny’s poised smile waver and a most fierce look cross her small face.
“’Miss Weasley’, Harry? Don’t let her fine little London airs fool you, she is still our little Ginny!”
He smiled at her with a look of pure devilment in his eyes.
“Why, even last week I caught her running hell for leather around Ottery in chase of some foolish friend of hers. She is the merest child, are you not, my dear?”
Harry stifled a laugh. It would not do to upset the girl further, as she looked ready to explode as it were! Her careful show of poise had rapidly disintegrated.
She turned to him and snapped,
“Why, it was only last week that I too made a discovery! The discovery that in the years away you had changed from a boorish ass only to become a boorish ass with a few more medals!”
Ron snorted helplessly as he saw the look on her face turn to horror as she realised what she had done. Harry too was ready to burst with laughter, but was holding himself in check for the sake of her feelings. Harry noticed that Hermione was glaring at Ron… as if he were to blame for Ginny’s temper! Ron shrugged at her and spread his hands aloft in a gesture of helplessness. Her expression turned to a small smile, apparent to Ron and himself though she looked down rapidly to suppress it. Looking at the pleased expression on Ron’s face it was clear that he felt inordinately gratified by this.
Ginny’s cheeks were threatening to rival her hair in hue. She seemed to be avoiding his eyes, until she took a deep breath and turned to face him.
“Sir Harry… I am sorry, that is… I do apologise…” she faltered, and he immediately stepped in to reassure her.
“My dear Ginny,” he said, smiling down at her with an expression of sweet tenderness. “You have no need to apologise for any aspect of your behaviour. I know that Ron can most unfairly set out to provoke you…” at this Ron made a sound of protest, but Harry just smiled at him and went on. “We have all been close friends for so long, that I would be delighted if you treat this place as if it were your home. And have I not always been as a brother to you? You may act exactly as you please with me and expect no recriminations!”
She gave him a wavering smile. He turned to Ron, feeling it would be better not to press her into conversation at this time. Thinking desperately for a subject, he settled on the safest of manly subjects; horses.
“You must come down to have a proper look at the stables, Ron! I have plans to buy a couple of new hunters and I would be much remiss if I did not consult such an expert on horseflesh as yourself while I have you here!”
They began an animated conversation, leaving Ginny to compose herself.
Misery had laced through her even as she had mustered up a smile.
And have I not always been as a brother to you?
Yes, he had. But she had hoped to impress upon him how she had changed, how he could see her as an equal, perhaps even as… a wife? With his jet-black hair and unusual, blazing green eyes, Sir Harry was not only hunted for his fortune. He was a most striking and attractive young man. When she had informed her acquaintance that she would be attending a select house party at the elusive Sir Harry Potter’s estate, she had been most gratified by the obvious envy this had produced. He would be a prize to any girl, but she had sincerely loved Harry for his personal qualities, his kindness, his loyalty. When she was younger she had of course found his tragic past fascinating and longed to be the one to ‘sooth’ him. Now… she had no idea how she felt. She had seen him only briefly in the past few years, and had in her time in society formed attachments to a few young men. But while she had enjoyed their attentions and had felt deeply fond of at least one, she had always clung to the idea of Harry. The image of perfection she had in her mind saw off any real threat. This meeting was not at all going as she planned. What must he think of her! Carrying on like an ungoverned harridan! She would do anything for him not to think of her as some schoolroom chit.
Hermione, who had been looking at Ginny with half amusement and half pity, broke in hurriedly.
“Ginny, my dear, you must be tired after your journey. Shall we go upstairs to rest before dinner?”
She held out her hand, and Ginny took it gratefully.
“Oh yes, I am… most anxious to rest myself!” she agreed fervently. Dropping a curtsy, she escaped as fast as possible. The two men fell silent. Harry looked at Ron. Ron looked back.
“Not a word please, Ron!”
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The evening air was mild, and the sweet scents of the foliage seemed to carry further than in the daytime. The company had removed to the terraces to fully enjoy the beautiful evening. Dinner had begun strained, but now all were involved in a comfortable discourse. Ginny and Ron, in the way of close siblings, had forgotten their earlier exchange. Ginny was talking to Harry, in a rather stilted manner of course, but more so than she ever had when she was younger. Indeed, it was a most harmonious group.
The rattling of carriage wheels broke through the soft sounds of nature.
Ron and Harry glanced at each other, alert.
“What the devil… a bit late for calls, is it not?” Ron said in a low voice.
Harry looked slightly strained. “I hope there is not some trouble… in the village perhaps.” He stood and bowed to the ladies. “Excuse me, I must attend to a small matter.” He strode off towards the house.
Best to get Filch on the matter, he thought. His estate manager was competent, if a little abrasive.
“Please tell Filch I wish to see him,” he ordered a passing footman.
Ten minutes later he had returned to the company. Ron looked at him in a questioning manner.
“It seems a carriage has arrived. Filch has gone to the stables to ascertain who it is. Most perplexing!”
Ron’s reply was lost in the commotion that followed.
“Sir, you must wait until I can inform Sir Harry of your arrival… Sir, please wait in the Library… sir!”
Hermione and Ginny looked at each other, their mouths open in surprise. Ron immediately sprang to his feet.
All eyes were on the man who walked towards the group, as much for his startlingly strong presence as for the surprise of his arrival.
The Flambeaux cast his aquiline face into harsh relief, so chiselled were his features. The moonlight fell upon hair that matched it for brightness and silver sheen.
Harry stood abruptly.
There was only one family who had such distinctive colouring. Indeed, he knew who this man was almost instinctively. The brief glimpses of him he had caught in his rare forays into society were enough to confirm it.
“Malfoy!” he spat out, eyes flashing green fire as the man halted in front of him.
His build was slight, but no one could think that this made him a lesser man. He had a lithe grace which made his physical presence powerful, and devastatingly male. The finest of tailoring adorned his body. The man was immaculate, tall boots with a glassy shine met tight breeches that encased the curved muscles of his thighs. A dark green coat curved away to reveal his shirt, and a diamond winked from the expertly tied snowy muslin at his throat. Clearly, a man of some consequence, he stood and surveyed the group with an expression akin to boredom. At Harry’s exclamation, he looked up and met his eyes. An expression of extreme haughtier spread across his face.
When he spoke, it was in a languorous drawl.
“The name is Wiltshire now, Baronet Potter. Strange you seem to forget, I’m sure my father’s death did not pass… unnoticed by yourself.” His eyes glanced suddenly at him, like flashing silver blades.
Harry did not know how to feel. He had always brooded on the Malfoy family, how far in Riddle’s schemes they had been, how much they had known when he disappeared. He supposed he hated them, that he blamed them for almost as much as he blamed Riddle. The nights he had spent… staring at that page in the peerage, drinking, brooding… the very name was enough to send a lance of pain and fury through him. He believed that Lucius Malfoy had known information that could have given him some idea as to where Riddle was, and the only reason he had felt sorrow at his death was that he feared such information had died with him. Now, this man, who I have heard the most distasteful stories about, is standing on my grounds, looking at me with a sneering condescension! He stared at him, transfixed as his mind raged.
Ron looked to be boiling with rage, with all his protective instincts raised. “Your name is well known to us, Your Grace! What we are unaware of is why you would take the trouble to visit a place you must know you will never be welcome in?”
Draco, Duke of Wiltshire simply gazed calmly at the taller man, as if his words had meant nothing. When he spoke, it was as if it were an effort which he begrudged.
“I will let you know now, that I am not one of those gentlemen who are cowed into submission simply by the sight of a scarlet coat. I am very aware of who I am and as such will not be intimidated by anyone. Not even a burly Officer who follows his unruly temper and not his head!”
He let his eyes travel around the group, acknowledging the ladies with nothing more than the perfectly executed bow that convention and manners required.
He turned back to Harry.
“I have come to address you, Sir Harry, not your friend. Could we perhaps have a private interview?”
Harry, brought back to his senses by the wave of alarm he had felt as Ron advanced on the new arrival, opened his mouth to reply but was halted as Ron once more addressed the Duke.
“Perhaps we should have a private interview, Sir! Would you like to accompany me to the garden?”
Draco sighed.
“Weasley, for your own good do not threaten me. I have no interest in indulging you in your indignation… however righteous you clearly think it!”
Harry broke in for Ron was looking murderous.
“Ron, please leave this to me!” His voice croaked as he spoke. Draco immediately turned that silvery gaze on him, an eyebrow quirking. Damn him, jumping on any sign of weakness! He pulled himself together, although he almost felt that without effort, he would be shaking. It was vital that the Duke remained unaware of the effect he had on him. Harry was no coward, but seeing Draco had brought back all the hatred and desperate need for revenge he had ever felt about Riddle.
He stood in what he hoped was a relaxed yet authoritative stance.
“Believe me, Wiltshire, your Father’s death had indeed come to my attention! I am however, at a loss as to what you believe we would have to say to each other!”
Draco almost rolled his eyes. Harry flushed at this obvious sign of his disregard.
“I am sure you are, Sir Harry. Might I venture to suggest that that is the reason why it would be wise to allow me to speak with you? Then,” he finished smoothly, “you will not be at a loss as to what I, at least, have to say”?
He smirked at Harry’s obvious anger and confusion.
Such vulnerability as he was sure he was displaying was a weakness, Harry knew, and a weakness he was sure the Duke would be happy enough to find in others, to make them easier to manipulate to his needs.
Green eyes remained locked to an intense pewter stare. Harry felt that this was some battle, but for what, he could not say. He had never felt such fury… he had never felt so violently alive, all his senses raised and stretched to their limit.
Unblinkingly, Draco held his unnerving focus.
“I have always had the highest interest in you, Sir Harry.” He said in that low voice, which remained just this side of threatening. “I must say, that meeting you in the flesh…” at this his eyes travelled up and down Harry’s figure, before capturing his eyes once more.“…for the first time has only served to …heighten that interest. I hope I can persuade you into a friendlier discourse.” Finally he broke his gaze, if only to throw a contemptuous sneer in Ron’s Direction.
Hermione had bristled at his mocking tone as he spoke to Harry. She disliked this man intensely. He was the worst example of the aristocratic class. The kind to look down on her for her ‘low’ connections. However, the most pressing matter was to avoid Ron causing what would only be a most distressing and possibly harmful scene.
“Mr Weasley,“ she began, with forced calm. “I think we would do well in leaving the Duke and Sir Harry alone to discuss their business. Perhaps we could take a walk around the terrace?”
He looked at her in surprise.
“A walk?” he said incredulously.
Harry saw through the confused emotional haze in which he was swimming, and realised what she was trying to do.
“Yes, Ron,” he said desperately, knowing that at the very least he had to prevent Ron calling out one of the most influential men in the land, “I think that would be a good idea! Would Miss Weasley like to join you?” He looked around at Ginny, not really seeing her.
Ginny had been terrified throughout the whole confrontation. She knew enough of the Duke’s reputation to be afraid for her brother!
“Forgive me… I think I will retire! Goodnight!” She was desperate not to catch that mans attention, but as she rose from her shaking curtsey, she found herself straight in his mesmerising pewter gaze.
A wicked smile played on his lips, and he shot a glance to Ron quickly, before devoting his attention to her.
He swept her the most elegant of bows.
“Miss Weasley, forgive me for not acknowledging you earlier. I do, of course, remember you from London. It would be a pleasure to reacquaint myself with you. Perhaps tomorrow?” He gave her a dazzlingly seductive look.
Her head was spinning! Reacquaint himself? We have been introduced to be sure, but he has certainly never shown any marked attentions! She felt herself blush. He was such an attractive man…and such a terrifying one. She had no idea what to think of his addresses.
She could hear the strangled noise of fury from her brother. She peeked at Harry, and was gratified to see he was staring at the Duke in a most fierce manner. Why, he looks positively jealous!
“I… I… thank you, Your Grace,” she stumbled on her words, before turning and walking as fast as she could into the house. Poor Harry… how distressed he had looked. She would do anything to prevent him being harmed… he had so much pain to bear already. She blushed guiltily as her mind turned to the scene she had left. How could she be thinking so at a time like this…but Harry must care if he was so angered by the Duke’s flirtation! And Draco himself… while he was an enemy to Harry, she could not deny his obvious attractions. She went to her room, puzzled and a little concerned at the direction her thoughts were taking.
Draco turned smoothly to regard with amusement the effect of his words. It was clear Ron was fairly vibrating with anger. He looked at Harry, smug satisfaction writ plain on his face.
“Sir Harry, I really must ask you once and for all if I am to be admitted to your house, or if I have travelled in vain!”
Harry ran a hand through his hair, feeling dejected and for some strange reason, defeated.
“You may come inside, Sir. I will join you in the Library.” With that he bowed stiffly, before bolting into the house.
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They were standing at the edge of the terraces, the broad sweeping grounds glowing in the moonlight. She glanced at him. He was standing stiffly, his brows lowered in a fearsome scowl, hands clenched into fists, staring blindly in to the distance, apparently unaware of her presence. She felt helpless to break into his thoughts, but she must at least try to. She had after all intended to calm him down.
“Ron,” she began timidly, her hand hovering above his arm. She inwardly cursed herself at her fear. “Ron,” she said more firmly, laying her hand on his sleeve. He turned to her suddenly, eyes still blazing. She took a startled step back. He was exuding such passion the air almost crackled, as if a storm were imminent. She felt almost frightened… and light headed as his eyes burned into hers.
“I… I think that it would be better for all concerned if you let Harry deal with this himself. Of course you would wish to be of service to him, but…” she hesitated, wondering if he was even taking in her words. How did one talk to a gentleman when his blood was stirred? She felt panicky for no reason she could discern. Or at least, she assumed that was why her heart was beating so fast.
He gazed at her for a moment longer, before his face relaxed slightly. She was looking at him with more softness in her face than he had seen in years. She had finally relaxed the cool reserve she had put up the past few days. Staring into those soft hazel eyes had a remarkable soothing effect on him. She put another soft white hand on his arm, and he found himself already leaning closer to kiss her before he drew back hastily. A hurt look crossed her face and he realised it must have seemed that he had recoiled from her touch. Anxious to remedy this he took one of her hands in his, while smiling down at her.
“I never took your words of wisdom well when we were younger, did I, Miss Granger… or may I call you Hermione, as you seem to have deigned to address me by my Christian name?”
Her mind was still in some confusion at the fact he now had her ungloved hand clasped in his. Her hand seemed to almost burn where he touched her. She had never been more aware of a man’s physical presence. She realised he was waiting for her answer. Why was it so hard to look at his face?
“Y..yes… I suppose you may. After all, are we not old friends?”
He was gazing at her, alert blue eyes holding her as securely as the grip on her hand. “Yes, Hermione” he murmured. “We are very old friends indeed.”
His low tones sent a shiver through her body. Was it that she had never been this close to a man, or was it that this man, this man… made her feel like she had never felt before. His eyes were locked on to her own, before his gaze travelled down to rest on her lips. Self-consciously she licked them, which made him draw in a quick breath and close the distance between them. Her head swam as she felt herself sway closer to him… almost in a trance.
Before she knew it she was in his arms and he had gently pressed his lips to hers.
It was the lightest and sweetest of touches. One hand gently caressed the curls that cascaded around her face, as his other hand traced slow soft circles across her back. Her lips opened of their own accord, as she clung to him to stop herself from swaying dangerously. Fiery excitement coursed through her as he took the invitation to explore her mouth fully, the tempo and urgency of his embrace rapidly increasing. She gasped and instinctively arched towards him as these strange, insanely pleasurable new sensations took over her. She was lost in their kiss, he was all she could think of.
He clutched her greedily against his body, his head swimming in response to her innocent, totally naturally passionate response to him. The soft press of her breasts against him was leading him to rapidly lose his control. The fact she was trembling in his arms made a fierce surge of pride go through him, even as his mind became clouded with desire for her. He broke free from her mouth, trailing hot kisses down her jaw line to her neck.
In their passion Ron had manoeuvred her towards the stone railings around the terrace. As her back hit it, the cold stone jolted her mind as well as her body. She tore herself free immediately. Cold realisation hit her with an almost tangible force.
“Mr Weasley, I…I…” Her mouth could not form the words, as her passion turned to anger.
White-hot rage was coursing through her at his presumption, as well as her own shame at behaving so. How could she! Where was her resolve, where was her pride? She lashed out in anger.
“I suppose you expected me to carry on like Miss Brown and acquiesce to your base demands? Well, I am no, no… light skirt!” She finished triumphantly. Let him see that she knew of his past indiscretions!
Ron groaned in frustration, before supporting himself, breathing heavily, against the balustrade. She was looking at him with widened eyes, her chest heaving, lips swollen and red from their fierce kisses, looking utterly and completely desirable. He groaned again. Damn the girl! He wanted to take her back into his arms and show her with ardent skill that she was his!
Unfortunately, he also wanted to give her a set down that she would never forget.
“My dear madam! I had no idea you were so acquainted with the gossiping circles, indeed, I would have hoped that you were not one of those to pay heed to what they say!”
He paused; she had coloured even more, her cheeks blazing pink. He went on regardless.
“I am not in the habit of ruining innocents. Contrary to what you may be thinking of me, I would never dream of wantonly destroying the reputation of a lady. Miss Brown and myself were… attached to each other. It went no further. Perhaps…” He stifled a smile “Miss Brown was a little… enthusiastic… in her attentions,” He shrugged helplessly. “She was a very determined flirt, and it gave rise to some gossip. I have nothing to reproach myself for.”
He glared darkly at her.
“I will leave that for you, Miss Granger.”
With that, he turned and stalked back to the house.
She stood and watched his back retreat as her mind worked feverishly. The feelings he had inspired in her… she flushed again as the memory of his hard, taut body against her own blazed through her mind. She had much to blame herself for. She had responded to his caresses in a way she could never have imagined herself capable.
Hermione thought distantly that her intention had been to calm him down, and she had sent him back to confront Malfoy in an even worse temper.
And of course, there was the unfortunate fact that she was helplessly attracted to Mr Ronald Weasley.
Next time Snape! (I mean it this time. Promise!)
Ginny arrives, Ron is testing, and an unexpected visitor shocks the group.
More thanks to alliekiwi and alexia75 for their beta help and ideas.
“Sir Harry, Miss Weasley is in the Drawing room.” The footman bowed.
“Ah, shall we greet her then?” Harry smiled around the breakfast table.
“Oh, yes, I am very much looking forward to making her acquaintance again!” said Hermione. “It is so pleasant to meet ones friends again after so long a time.”
Ron quirked an eyebrow at her.
“I am gratified that my presence is so agreeable to you! Or am I not included in this ode to friends rediscovered?”
She coloured and started. Harry groaned inwardly. Really, it seemed Ron could provoke her most strongly! She glowered at him, before sweeping out of the room with a studied unconcerned toss of her head. Though Harry swore he heard her mutter, “Why did I let him affect me so?” as she passed.
Harry glanced at Ron.
“Laying it on a bit thick there…” there was no mistaking the chastising tone in his voice.
Ron looked at him sheepishly.
“I am sorry, Harry. It’s just… the cold front our Miss Granger has put up against me is irksome in the extreme, and forgive me if I like to… provoke a fiery reaction to help it thaw!”
Harry had to laugh at this reasoning. “Very well. Only please refrain from provoking any real rages… I had enough of them when we were young!
Ron looked at him in surprise. “Were we really like that?” He appeared to think back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I suppose we did have a very tempestuous relationship…”
Harry smiled at him. “I assure you, my friend, Hermione and yourself have always been able to get under one another’s skin!
Now it was Ron’s turn to look discomfited. “She is not under my skin, Harry!”
Harry thought that he would do well to be silent on this matter for the time being.
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A tilted head draped ringlets across a rounded shoulder, a charming smile spread across her features as she rose to meet them.
“Sir Harry!” Miss Weasley uttered in sweet tones that expressed her happiness.
“It has been many years since we last met!”
He watched her self assured address, and marvelled at the change in her. Gone was the slim, fairy-like girl who had darted away from her brothers’ friends, the schoolroom miss who appeared before supper, only to be whisked away, obviously relieved, to the confines of the schoolroom. His eyes beheld a young woman of rare prettiness. Her figure had rounded into a sweet plumpness, her snowy skin served to create a dramatic backdrop for her fiery russet curls. Liquid brown eyes framed by delicate lashes met his directly, and a delicate rosebud mouth rested in the sweetest of smiles. Dressed in a modish though simple gown of pale primrose, Miss Weasley was indeed a most pleasing young lady. But had he not heard from Ron that she had been a most successful debutante, in demand as a dancing partner by many young gentlemen?
Why, and to think he had expected to see a mere child! Ruefully, Harry reflected that his melancholy habits and fear of the malicious scheming of young ladies intent on capturing him as a prize had led him to become somewhat of a recluse in the world, or surely he would have noticed Miss Weasley before now.
He smiled back with sincere pleasure.
“Miss Weasley, may I welcome you to my home? You are very welcome here!”
Ron gave a loud snort of laughter, which made Ginny’s poised smile waver and a most fierce look cross her small face.
“’Miss Weasley’, Harry? Don’t let her fine little London airs fool you, she is still our little Ginny!”
He smiled at her with a look of pure devilment in his eyes.
“Why, even last week I caught her running hell for leather around Ottery in chase of some foolish friend of hers. She is the merest child, are you not, my dear?”
Harry stifled a laugh. It would not do to upset the girl further, as she looked ready to explode as it were! Her careful show of poise had rapidly disintegrated.
She turned to him and snapped,
“Why, it was only last week that I too made a discovery! The discovery that in the years away you had changed from a boorish ass only to become a boorish ass with a few more medals!”
Ron snorted helplessly as he saw the look on her face turn to horror as she realised what she had done. Harry too was ready to burst with laughter, but was holding himself in check for the sake of her feelings. Harry noticed that Hermione was glaring at Ron… as if he were to blame for Ginny’s temper! Ron shrugged at her and spread his hands aloft in a gesture of helplessness. Her expression turned to a small smile, apparent to Ron and himself though she looked down rapidly to suppress it. Looking at the pleased expression on Ron’s face it was clear that he felt inordinately gratified by this.
Ginny’s cheeks were threatening to rival her hair in hue. She seemed to be avoiding his eyes, until she took a deep breath and turned to face him.
“Sir Harry… I am sorry, that is… I do apologise…” she faltered, and he immediately stepped in to reassure her.
“My dear Ginny,” he said, smiling down at her with an expression of sweet tenderness. “You have no need to apologise for any aspect of your behaviour. I know that Ron can most unfairly set out to provoke you…” at this Ron made a sound of protest, but Harry just smiled at him and went on. “We have all been close friends for so long, that I would be delighted if you treat this place as if it were your home. And have I not always been as a brother to you? You may act exactly as you please with me and expect no recriminations!”
She gave him a wavering smile. He turned to Ron, feeling it would be better not to press her into conversation at this time. Thinking desperately for a subject, he settled on the safest of manly subjects; horses.
“You must come down to have a proper look at the stables, Ron! I have plans to buy a couple of new hunters and I would be much remiss if I did not consult such an expert on horseflesh as yourself while I have you here!”
They began an animated conversation, leaving Ginny to compose herself.
Misery had laced through her even as she had mustered up a smile.
And have I not always been as a brother to you?
Yes, he had. But she had hoped to impress upon him how she had changed, how he could see her as an equal, perhaps even as… a wife? With his jet-black hair and unusual, blazing green eyes, Sir Harry was not only hunted for his fortune. He was a most striking and attractive young man. When she had informed her acquaintance that she would be attending a select house party at the elusive Sir Harry Potter’s estate, she had been most gratified by the obvious envy this had produced. He would be a prize to any girl, but she had sincerely loved Harry for his personal qualities, his kindness, his loyalty. When she was younger she had of course found his tragic past fascinating and longed to be the one to ‘sooth’ him. Now… she had no idea how she felt. She had seen him only briefly in the past few years, and had in her time in society formed attachments to a few young men. But while she had enjoyed their attentions and had felt deeply fond of at least one, she had always clung to the idea of Harry. The image of perfection she had in her mind saw off any real threat. This meeting was not at all going as she planned. What must he think of her! Carrying on like an ungoverned harridan! She would do anything for him not to think of her as some schoolroom chit.
Hermione, who had been looking at Ginny with half amusement and half pity, broke in hurriedly.
“Ginny, my dear, you must be tired after your journey. Shall we go upstairs to rest before dinner?”
She held out her hand, and Ginny took it gratefully.
“Oh yes, I am… most anxious to rest myself!” she agreed fervently. Dropping a curtsy, she escaped as fast as possible. The two men fell silent. Harry looked at Ron. Ron looked back.
“Not a word please, Ron!”
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The evening air was mild, and the sweet scents of the foliage seemed to carry further than in the daytime. The company had removed to the terraces to fully enjoy the beautiful evening. Dinner had begun strained, but now all were involved in a comfortable discourse. Ginny and Ron, in the way of close siblings, had forgotten their earlier exchange. Ginny was talking to Harry, in a rather stilted manner of course, but more so than she ever had when she was younger. Indeed, it was a most harmonious group.
The rattling of carriage wheels broke through the soft sounds of nature.
Ron and Harry glanced at each other, alert.
“What the devil… a bit late for calls, is it not?” Ron said in a low voice.
Harry looked slightly strained. “I hope there is not some trouble… in the village perhaps.” He stood and bowed to the ladies. “Excuse me, I must attend to a small matter.” He strode off towards the house.
Best to get Filch on the matter, he thought. His estate manager was competent, if a little abrasive.
“Please tell Filch I wish to see him,” he ordered a passing footman.
Ten minutes later he had returned to the company. Ron looked at him in a questioning manner.
“It seems a carriage has arrived. Filch has gone to the stables to ascertain who it is. Most perplexing!”
Ron’s reply was lost in the commotion that followed.
“Sir, you must wait until I can inform Sir Harry of your arrival… Sir, please wait in the Library… sir!”
Hermione and Ginny looked at each other, their mouths open in surprise. Ron immediately sprang to his feet.
All eyes were on the man who walked towards the group, as much for his startlingly strong presence as for the surprise of his arrival.
The Flambeaux cast his aquiline face into harsh relief, so chiselled were his features. The moonlight fell upon hair that matched it for brightness and silver sheen.
Harry stood abruptly.
There was only one family who had such distinctive colouring. Indeed, he knew who this man was almost instinctively. The brief glimpses of him he had caught in his rare forays into society were enough to confirm it.
“Malfoy!” he spat out, eyes flashing green fire as the man halted in front of him.
His build was slight, but no one could think that this made him a lesser man. He had a lithe grace which made his physical presence powerful, and devastatingly male. The finest of tailoring adorned his body. The man was immaculate, tall boots with a glassy shine met tight breeches that encased the curved muscles of his thighs. A dark green coat curved away to reveal his shirt, and a diamond winked from the expertly tied snowy muslin at his throat. Clearly, a man of some consequence, he stood and surveyed the group with an expression akin to boredom. At Harry’s exclamation, he looked up and met his eyes. An expression of extreme haughtier spread across his face.
When he spoke, it was in a languorous drawl.
“The name is Wiltshire now, Baronet Potter. Strange you seem to forget, I’m sure my father’s death did not pass… unnoticed by yourself.” His eyes glanced suddenly at him, like flashing silver blades.
Harry did not know how to feel. He had always brooded on the Malfoy family, how far in Riddle’s schemes they had been, how much they had known when he disappeared. He supposed he hated them, that he blamed them for almost as much as he blamed Riddle. The nights he had spent… staring at that page in the peerage, drinking, brooding… the very name was enough to send a lance of pain and fury through him. He believed that Lucius Malfoy had known information that could have given him some idea as to where Riddle was, and the only reason he had felt sorrow at his death was that he feared such information had died with him. Now, this man, who I have heard the most distasteful stories about, is standing on my grounds, looking at me with a sneering condescension! He stared at him, transfixed as his mind raged.
Ron looked to be boiling with rage, with all his protective instincts raised. “Your name is well known to us, Your Grace! What we are unaware of is why you would take the trouble to visit a place you must know you will never be welcome in?”
Draco, Duke of Wiltshire simply gazed calmly at the taller man, as if his words had meant nothing. When he spoke, it was as if it were an effort which he begrudged.
“I will let you know now, that I am not one of those gentlemen who are cowed into submission simply by the sight of a scarlet coat. I am very aware of who I am and as such will not be intimidated by anyone. Not even a burly Officer who follows his unruly temper and not his head!”
He let his eyes travel around the group, acknowledging the ladies with nothing more than the perfectly executed bow that convention and manners required.
He turned back to Harry.
“I have come to address you, Sir Harry, not your friend. Could we perhaps have a private interview?”
Harry, brought back to his senses by the wave of alarm he had felt as Ron advanced on the new arrival, opened his mouth to reply but was halted as Ron once more addressed the Duke.
“Perhaps we should have a private interview, Sir! Would you like to accompany me to the garden?”
Draco sighed.
“Weasley, for your own good do not threaten me. I have no interest in indulging you in your indignation… however righteous you clearly think it!”
Harry broke in for Ron was looking murderous.
“Ron, please leave this to me!” His voice croaked as he spoke. Draco immediately turned that silvery gaze on him, an eyebrow quirking. Damn him, jumping on any sign of weakness! He pulled himself together, although he almost felt that without effort, he would be shaking. It was vital that the Duke remained unaware of the effect he had on him. Harry was no coward, but seeing Draco had brought back all the hatred and desperate need for revenge he had ever felt about Riddle.
He stood in what he hoped was a relaxed yet authoritative stance.
“Believe me, Wiltshire, your Father’s death had indeed come to my attention! I am however, at a loss as to what you believe we would have to say to each other!”
Draco almost rolled his eyes. Harry flushed at this obvious sign of his disregard.
“I am sure you are, Sir Harry. Might I venture to suggest that that is the reason why it would be wise to allow me to speak with you? Then,” he finished smoothly, “you will not be at a loss as to what I, at least, have to say”?
He smirked at Harry’s obvious anger and confusion.
Such vulnerability as he was sure he was displaying was a weakness, Harry knew, and a weakness he was sure the Duke would be happy enough to find in others, to make them easier to manipulate to his needs.
Green eyes remained locked to an intense pewter stare. Harry felt that this was some battle, but for what, he could not say. He had never felt such fury… he had never felt so violently alive, all his senses raised and stretched to their limit.
Unblinkingly, Draco held his unnerving focus.
“I have always had the highest interest in you, Sir Harry.” He said in that low voice, which remained just this side of threatening. “I must say, that meeting you in the flesh…” at this his eyes travelled up and down Harry’s figure, before capturing his eyes once more.“…for the first time has only served to …heighten that interest. I hope I can persuade you into a friendlier discourse.” Finally he broke his gaze, if only to throw a contemptuous sneer in Ron’s Direction.
Hermione had bristled at his mocking tone as he spoke to Harry. She disliked this man intensely. He was the worst example of the aristocratic class. The kind to look down on her for her ‘low’ connections. However, the most pressing matter was to avoid Ron causing what would only be a most distressing and possibly harmful scene.
“Mr Weasley,“ she began, with forced calm. “I think we would do well in leaving the Duke and Sir Harry alone to discuss their business. Perhaps we could take a walk around the terrace?”
He looked at her in surprise.
“A walk?” he said incredulously.
Harry saw through the confused emotional haze in which he was swimming, and realised what she was trying to do.
“Yes, Ron,” he said desperately, knowing that at the very least he had to prevent Ron calling out one of the most influential men in the land, “I think that would be a good idea! Would Miss Weasley like to join you?” He looked around at Ginny, not really seeing her.
Ginny had been terrified throughout the whole confrontation. She knew enough of the Duke’s reputation to be afraid for her brother!
“Forgive me… I think I will retire! Goodnight!” She was desperate not to catch that mans attention, but as she rose from her shaking curtsey, she found herself straight in his mesmerising pewter gaze.
A wicked smile played on his lips, and he shot a glance to Ron quickly, before devoting his attention to her.
He swept her the most elegant of bows.
“Miss Weasley, forgive me for not acknowledging you earlier. I do, of course, remember you from London. It would be a pleasure to reacquaint myself with you. Perhaps tomorrow?” He gave her a dazzlingly seductive look.
Her head was spinning! Reacquaint himself? We have been introduced to be sure, but he has certainly never shown any marked attentions! She felt herself blush. He was such an attractive man…and such a terrifying one. She had no idea what to think of his addresses.
She could hear the strangled noise of fury from her brother. She peeked at Harry, and was gratified to see he was staring at the Duke in a most fierce manner. Why, he looks positively jealous!
“I… I… thank you, Your Grace,” she stumbled on her words, before turning and walking as fast as she could into the house. Poor Harry… how distressed he had looked. She would do anything to prevent him being harmed… he had so much pain to bear already. She blushed guiltily as her mind turned to the scene she had left. How could she be thinking so at a time like this…but Harry must care if he was so angered by the Duke’s flirtation! And Draco himself… while he was an enemy to Harry, she could not deny his obvious attractions. She went to her room, puzzled and a little concerned at the direction her thoughts were taking.
Draco turned smoothly to regard with amusement the effect of his words. It was clear Ron was fairly vibrating with anger. He looked at Harry, smug satisfaction writ plain on his face.
“Sir Harry, I really must ask you once and for all if I am to be admitted to your house, or if I have travelled in vain!”
Harry ran a hand through his hair, feeling dejected and for some strange reason, defeated.
“You may come inside, Sir. I will join you in the Library.” With that he bowed stiffly, before bolting into the house.
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They were standing at the edge of the terraces, the broad sweeping grounds glowing in the moonlight. She glanced at him. He was standing stiffly, his brows lowered in a fearsome scowl, hands clenched into fists, staring blindly in to the distance, apparently unaware of her presence. She felt helpless to break into his thoughts, but she must at least try to. She had after all intended to calm him down.
“Ron,” she began timidly, her hand hovering above his arm. She inwardly cursed herself at her fear. “Ron,” she said more firmly, laying her hand on his sleeve. He turned to her suddenly, eyes still blazing. She took a startled step back. He was exuding such passion the air almost crackled, as if a storm were imminent. She felt almost frightened… and light headed as his eyes burned into hers.
“I… I think that it would be better for all concerned if you let Harry deal with this himself. Of course you would wish to be of service to him, but…” she hesitated, wondering if he was even taking in her words. How did one talk to a gentleman when his blood was stirred? She felt panicky for no reason she could discern. Or at least, she assumed that was why her heart was beating so fast.
He gazed at her for a moment longer, before his face relaxed slightly. She was looking at him with more softness in her face than he had seen in years. She had finally relaxed the cool reserve she had put up the past few days. Staring into those soft hazel eyes had a remarkable soothing effect on him. She put another soft white hand on his arm, and he found himself already leaning closer to kiss her before he drew back hastily. A hurt look crossed her face and he realised it must have seemed that he had recoiled from her touch. Anxious to remedy this he took one of her hands in his, while smiling down at her.
“I never took your words of wisdom well when we were younger, did I, Miss Granger… or may I call you Hermione, as you seem to have deigned to address me by my Christian name?”
Her mind was still in some confusion at the fact he now had her ungloved hand clasped in his. Her hand seemed to almost burn where he touched her. She had never been more aware of a man’s physical presence. She realised he was waiting for her answer. Why was it so hard to look at his face?
“Y..yes… I suppose you may. After all, are we not old friends?”
He was gazing at her, alert blue eyes holding her as securely as the grip on her hand. “Yes, Hermione” he murmured. “We are very old friends indeed.”
His low tones sent a shiver through her body. Was it that she had never been this close to a man, or was it that this man, this man… made her feel like she had never felt before. His eyes were locked on to her own, before his gaze travelled down to rest on her lips. Self-consciously she licked them, which made him draw in a quick breath and close the distance between them. Her head swam as she felt herself sway closer to him… almost in a trance.
Before she knew it she was in his arms and he had gently pressed his lips to hers.
It was the lightest and sweetest of touches. One hand gently caressed the curls that cascaded around her face, as his other hand traced slow soft circles across her back. Her lips opened of their own accord, as she clung to him to stop herself from swaying dangerously. Fiery excitement coursed through her as he took the invitation to explore her mouth fully, the tempo and urgency of his embrace rapidly increasing. She gasped and instinctively arched towards him as these strange, insanely pleasurable new sensations took over her. She was lost in their kiss, he was all she could think of.
He clutched her greedily against his body, his head swimming in response to her innocent, totally naturally passionate response to him. The soft press of her breasts against him was leading him to rapidly lose his control. The fact she was trembling in his arms made a fierce surge of pride go through him, even as his mind became clouded with desire for her. He broke free from her mouth, trailing hot kisses down her jaw line to her neck.
In their passion Ron had manoeuvred her towards the stone railings around the terrace. As her back hit it, the cold stone jolted her mind as well as her body. She tore herself free immediately. Cold realisation hit her with an almost tangible force.
“Mr Weasley, I…I…” Her mouth could not form the words, as her passion turned to anger.
White-hot rage was coursing through her at his presumption, as well as her own shame at behaving so. How could she! Where was her resolve, where was her pride? She lashed out in anger.
“I suppose you expected me to carry on like Miss Brown and acquiesce to your base demands? Well, I am no, no… light skirt!” She finished triumphantly. Let him see that she knew of his past indiscretions!
Ron groaned in frustration, before supporting himself, breathing heavily, against the balustrade. She was looking at him with widened eyes, her chest heaving, lips swollen and red from their fierce kisses, looking utterly and completely desirable. He groaned again. Damn the girl! He wanted to take her back into his arms and show her with ardent skill that she was his!
Unfortunately, he also wanted to give her a set down that she would never forget.
“My dear madam! I had no idea you were so acquainted with the gossiping circles, indeed, I would have hoped that you were not one of those to pay heed to what they say!”
He paused; she had coloured even more, her cheeks blazing pink. He went on regardless.
“I am not in the habit of ruining innocents. Contrary to what you may be thinking of me, I would never dream of wantonly destroying the reputation of a lady. Miss Brown and myself were… attached to each other. It went no further. Perhaps…” He stifled a smile “Miss Brown was a little… enthusiastic… in her attentions,” He shrugged helplessly. “She was a very determined flirt, and it gave rise to some gossip. I have nothing to reproach myself for.”
He glared darkly at her.
“I will leave that for you, Miss Granger.”
With that, he turned and stalked back to the house.
She stood and watched his back retreat as her mind worked feverishly. The feelings he had inspired in her… she flushed again as the memory of his hard, taut body against her own blazed through her mind. She had much to blame herself for. She had responded to his caresses in a way she could never have imagined herself capable.
Hermione thought distantly that her intention had been to calm him down, and she had sent him back to confront Malfoy in an even worse temper.
And of course, there was the unfortunate fact that she was helplessly attracted to Mr Ronald Weasley.
Next time Snape! (I mean it this time. Promise!)