Chapter 14 – The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Malfoys

The Weasleys are a close-knit family. When there are that many people living in such tight quarters, well… they really don't have much choice, do they? But even within this supportive, cohesive unit there were smaller subgroups; little alliances built in, woven through the fabric of the family cloth, which only helped in making it a virtually unbreakable whole.

Molly and Arthur were obviously the most practiced of these cooperatives. Being in charge of the growing brood made their bond a basic necessity for survival. Fred and George perfected it, of course. Looking alike and essentially sharing one brain made them nearly indestructible as a pair. They only ever yielded to Molly and Arthur, mainly to Molly, and only then when they were fighting with each other, which was often. Charlie and Bill, being the oldest and barely a year apart, made them as skillful a unit as the twins, though not nearly as creative or mischievous, which is probably why Molly and Arthur saw fit to reproduce again. (Had Fred and George been the first born the line might have been cut off early for the sake of Wizarding-kind.) Next in line was Percy and Percy's ego – there was little room for anyone else.

That left Ginny and Ron, literally, as that was all that was left. It was essential that they formed some sort of pact lest they be trounced by the other, stronger, Weasley duos. Their strength lay in the fact that no one ever realized how connected they were. Not even they realized it. Ron would never admit that he admired Ginny's assuredness and her capabilities as a witch. Ginny would never admit that she liked the way Ron looked out for her as if she was a very precious thing. Loyalty, love, and a few shared misadventures united them. United them so much, in fact, that the minute Ginny slammed the door and Apparated to an address across town, Ron, who was hundreds of miles away, startled and pulled away from a pair of pink, lush lips that were pressed to his.

"I can't," he shrieked as if someone had just plucked a hair out of his nostril. A long and rather embedded hair.

Iris blinked at him. "Can't? Can't what?"

"This," he said weakly, "I can't do this."

"But you are doing this," she grinned as she moved in closer. "You are doing it very well."

"Yes. No. I mean ... I haven't showered or brushed my teeth. I feel…I feel rather disgusted at myself." He slumped.

This last bit came out so genuine that she pulled back. "The bathroom is right over there." She motioned towards a door across the room. "But don't take long." She ran a long fingernail down his torso and then unwound her legs from his body. "It's rude to keep a girl waiting."

He nodded briskly as he stood and quickly gathered the bedspread around his naked form. As soon as he was able, he sprinted towards the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Once he was in the safety of the locked room, he fell to the floor in a heap.

What the hell was going on? There was no way Hermione could have said those things. Sure, she was different lately and a bit … distracted, but that was the wedding, right? Nerves? Right? Didn't everyone have nerves before their wedding? But the thing was, he didn't have any nerves. None at all. There was nothing that made him anxious about the wedding except perhaps that dancing bit that Hermione insisted on, or the twins' wedding gift, which could be potentially painful. But other than that, he knew it would be the best day of his life. It was to be the day that his life finally began. As recently as an hour ago he thought Hermione felt the same way. She was doing all the planning, or over-planning as Hermione was want to do, but she was looking forward to it as much as he was. Wasn't she?

He turned the tap on and ice-cold water poured from the faucet. He bent over the low sink and splashed the chilly water onto his face, rinsing away the last remnants of sleep. He looked up into the mirror and stared at his face. His eyes were red, his skin pale, and his lips looked like they'd been thoroughly kissed. What had he done? No matter what he saw in that Pensieve, or thought he saw, the first thing he should have done was go to Hermione. Talk it out. Get her side of the story. He'd let his own insecurities get the better of him and it was destroying the only thing that ever mattered.

At that moment he knew what he had to do.

Ron emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later. Every inch of his body had been scrubbed so hard that he was nearly glowing pink. He was wearing nothing but some cologne he'd found in the mirrored cabinet.

"I hope that was fast enough." His voice was low; his smile, lazy.

She made a show of looking him over, up and down. "It was worth the wait. Now we can spend the rest of the day taking it slowly." Her eyes locked with his, as she strutted over to him, swaying her hips and flaunting her own nakedness. She draped her arms languidly around his shoulders, nuzzling his neck, breathing in his scent. "You smell good enough to eat." And with that she sank her teeth into the joint of his neck and shoulder.

He emitted a few appropriate gasps and moans as she kissed his neck. Meanwhile, he scanned the room, trying to figure out where she had hidden his things. She could have conjured away his clothes; it was most likely that she had, but she probably just hid his wand. If she had snapped it or taken it far away, he would have been alerted immediately. A wizard and his wand were very connected and he hadn't realized it was gone until he looked for it. She probably didn't want him to feel there was any danger so she hid it near. He still felt its presence, still felt its magic.

She reached a hand behind him and grabbed a handful of his backside. The "eep " this elicited was less than arousing. She pulled back and eyed his suspiciously. "Everything all right?"

"Yes," he assured her. "It's just that … Hermione had a butt thing," he lied. "Never went anywhere near it. You startled me."

Her smile widened and she clamped his behind harder in her claw-like grip. "I knew she was a prude. Trust me, darling, you have no idea what I plan to do to you today." She suddenly wrapped her fingers around the hardening shaft.

Traitor, he thought, as he looked down at the one body part which was obviously enjoying the attention. He scowled at his treacherous manhood as she began to stroke. "Hold on," he squeaked as he pushed away. "I thought we were taking this slow. How about a glass of wine? Or six?"

He stopped mid-stroke. "Wine? At this hour?"

"It's France," he said with a shrug. "It's almost required."

She contemplated this for a moment and gave a quick nod. "I suppose I could conjure some."

He tutted. "I'm surprised at you. Aren't you part Malfoy? One can't conjure a good wine."

She raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow. "You want me to go and purchase some? You want me to leave?"

"I want you … us to enjoy this day." He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "It's been a while since I've been with another woman and I need to relax a bit. I don't want to jump every time you touch me. Wine would be very helpful. Since it's most likely that my clothes are a pile of ash, you'll have to go." He leaned down and ran a tongue along his ear as she had done to him earlier and whispered, "Please."

She let out a laugh. "Oh, you are good." After a moment she conceded. "A good bottle of wine would be nice, and I think there's a small shop in town. I'll be back in a few minutes." Within minutes she was dressed. She retrieved her own wand from the dresser drawer, and with a pop! she was gone.

Ron wasted no time and began to rifle through the room. At most he had ten minutes, and once she saw the mess he'd made, she'd know what he was up to. There was no turning back. He could feel his wand, feel its presence nearby. It had to be in the room.

He emptied every drawer, toppled the mattress, broke off pieces of the bed frame, ripped the paintings from the walls and tore off their frames. Nothing. His heart raced as each minute ticking away. Where did she hide it?

He ran to the closet that held the Pensieve and pulled the double-doors so hard that they nearly fell off their hinges. The space seemed bare except for the stone basin he'd peered into earlier. Feeling the anger swell, he picked it up and slammed it to the ground where it shattered into dust at his feet. He'd forgotten how fragile the things were. They looked so sturdy, but were actually only held together with the force of magic and the power of the memories they held.

He sank to his knees amid the rubble and let out a heavy sigh. He'd never find it in time.

Ron brought his hands to his face, trying to think of what to do next. His options were quickly evaporating. He dropped his head and looked at the mess he'd made on the floor with the shattered Pensieve. It was then he noticed that some of the dust seemed to seep into the floor. There was a line that ran along a floorboard where some of the dusty fragments had disappeared. He grabbed a leg from the bed he'd just destroyed and began to slam it against the floorboard until he cracked it. When he'd broken off a piece big enough, he wedged his fingers inside and began to pry them apart. There, in the dust and dirt, lay his wand. He reached in and grabbed it, feeling that familiar tingle in his fingers. This was it. He was going home.

He heard a faint, "I'm home, dear," as he Apparated out of sight.

---

Draco Malfoy was at his flat, drinking a bottle of wine he "borrowed" from the Minister's private stock, and awaiting a report from Iris. Should the plan have gone as it was supposed to -and really, why shouldn't it? - she would be doing any number of inappropriate things with Weasley. He should have thought to record it for blackmail purposes later on. Or, possibly, for a few galleons on a quick sale, there were always people willing to pay for such things. Most of his friends, in fact.

By his calculations Granger should be a blubbering mess, half-drunk and making ludicrous and violent threats against mankind in general and her ex-fiancé in particular. Potter and Ginny should be at each other's throats: making accusations, placing blame, and pointing fingers.

Soon Ginny will realize that her new friend, Draco, was right, Potter was not the right man for her. She won't know where to turn, her best female friend being indisposed and her brother having abandoned her. She will remember a pleasant afternoon spent in a small café and show up at his doorstep: lost, vulnerable, and ripe for the picking.

He took another deep swig of wine. Ah, the simple joys of life: perfectly aged (and perfectly priced) wine, the abject misery of his most hated enemies, and the coming together of one amazing plan. Sometimes his own ingenuity surprised even him.

Then, the most unexpected thing happened. Well, several unexpected things, actually. In very quick succession. His front door was blown off its hinges and a blur of red whooshed though his hallway and headed straight for him. He was thrown against the wall, which knocked down a painting he carefully pilfered from his father's prized collection, and cracked its frame. His wine splashed all over him, ruining a shirt that brought out his eyes perfectly. And, to top it all off, the tip of a wand was digging into his neck.

Ginny Weasley did show up at his door all right, but not quite as vulnerable as he might have hoped.

"Where is he?" she growled, curling her upper lip and baring quite a few teeth, some of which were undeniably sharp.

"Who?" This was apparently a mistake as now that wand was piercing his trachea.

"If you think I am here to play games, then you have made a very costly miscalculation." She gave the wand another nudge, which elicited a "gurrrguah" from her captive. "I know that you're involved with all this."

"Really, Ginny. I haven't the fog - gurrrguaaah…."

"Draco," she said with an eerie calm, "you are trying my patience."

Her eyes narrowed; she looked psychotic. And not the usual look of instability that all Weasleys had, but something far more sinister. It was time to come clean. What was that Muggle expression? The pig was up? Perhaps a little bit of the truth would keep her from killing him outright. "I did it for you."

Of all the things she might have expected to hear, this apparently was not on the list. She blinked repeatedly for a good thirty seconds before she pulled the wand back. A look of complete incomprehension flowed over her face and she seemed to sway where she stood. "What did you say?"

He brought a hand to his neck and felt the angry divot left by the wand tip. "You heard me."

She took a step back. "No, I don't think I did," she said softly. "I couldn't have. It makes no sense."

"What doesn't make sense?" It was time to turn on the charm. He had to sell it. "What? That you're worth turning the world upside down for? That someone would move heaven and earth to be with you? That someone … that I would risk so much just for just the chance to talk to you?" He pulled his shoulders back and gave his best indignant glare. "If that is truly the case, then Potter has done a miserable job of being your lover because you are worth it all, and more."

The lines around her eyes softened though her lips remained pursed. "Where's Ron?"

Hmmm…. That same speech worked wonders with the niece of the Ambassador of Burundi. Time to change tactics. "There's no need to worry about him. It's you I'm concerned with. He's fine. He's happy. " Draco paused for a moment, tilting his head toward her as she contemplated him. "Don't you think you deserve the same chance?"

"With you?" she said with a laugh. She ran a hand through her hair. "You think I'll be happy with… you?"

"I think you deserve the chance to try." His voice had the perfect blend of pleading and desperation. "Ginny, I've been watching you for a long time. Watching you try to turn a schoolgirl crush into a meaningful adult relationship. How often does that work, Ginny? Outside of fairy tales and romance novels. In the real world. How often? It didn't take much to turn Ron's head. It took very little, in fact. He was all too willing to go with Iris."

Her cheeks blazed red. "No, he didn't. He wouldn't. You tricked…"

"Oh, Ginny, please. What do you think I did? Kidnap him? Spirit him away to a foreign land? Now who's miscalculated?" Her shoulders dropped and there was the look he was waiting for. Lost. Vulnerable. Ripe.

She looked lost. "But Hermione…."

"Hermione was a childhood infatuation. A remnant of his adolescence he tried desperately to hold onto. A sweet effort, noble even, but like toy brooms and stuffed dragons we eventually out grow all these things." He took a tentative step towards her. "We grow and we grow apart. Some are just less willing to move on. Sometimes, we need a gentle nudge in the right direction."

She looked into his eyes. "You said you did it for me. What …what did you do?"

"Nothing depraved," he said with a small laugh. "Iris fell for Ron. She fell hard. It wasn't planned, believe me when I tell you it was in no way planned. But try as she might to fight it, she couldn't. One has very little control over matters of the heart. I hated seeing her so unhappy, so I helped her plan a romantic getaway."

"You planned a romantic getaway for your cousin … and my brother?"

"I know a thing or two about not being able to control matters of the heart. I understand about having feelings so strong that nothing else matters. I understand about needing someone so badly that it renders you deaf, dumb, and blind. I couldn't let her suffer as I have suffered. Not if I could help it. All I did was help her and Ron find each other. I'd do it again."

"And today? Bumping into me today? How did that fall into your plans?"

"I'll admit that was no accident," he said sheepishly. "I know you better than you think I do, Ginny. I knew that you would follow Ron. I just made sure to follow you. I'm sorry about that, I hated to deceive you, but I couldn't let you stop Ron and Iris."

"So you stopped my following Ron to help them escape? How is that doing something for me?"

"Helping Ron and Iris wasn't my only reason for intercepting you," he admitted. "I had hoped that when you saw how happy Ron was that you'd see that there are other … possibilities. Granted, it was sooner than I planned to show my hand, but I knew that I had little chance with you otherwise. I needed you to know the man I am and forget the boy I was." He took another few steps towards her so that they were inches apart. He brought a hand to her face and cupped her chin as he spoke softly.

"I've always admired you, Ginevra Weasley. I've always thought there was more to you than meets the eye. I'd like a chance to get to know you better. For you to know me better. And I think…I think, given a chance, you might like what you see. There are other paths for you. You just need to be willing to follow them. Come with me. Let's walk that path together." He leaned forward, his lips edging towards hers. His eyelids began to fall, but instead of the feel of full, moist sweetness, he found his lips wrapped around a piece of pointed wood.

"You must really think I'm an idiot. Move Heaven and Earth. Walk the path with me. Where do you get this rubbish? "

He pulled back, separating himself from her wand. "Too much?"

"I don't know what you're playing at, but if you think I'd go anywhere near you to do anything other than hex the living hell out of you, then you are as stupid as Ron has always insisted. If you did in fact do this - this being the thing you'll never really admit to – then it has nothing to do with caring for me as much as it has to do with using me for something." He made to say something but she stopped him. "Don't bother, Draco. I know you a bit better than you think as well and I know that you have no capacity for loving anyone but yourself. I haven't time for tall tales and figments of your repulsive imagination. I'm sick of your lame attempts at manipulating me. I will only ask you once more: Where is Ron?"

So much for the master plan. "She took him to a villa in France. But I'm telling you he wants to be there. I bet right now he doesn't even remember Granger's name."

She paused for a moment and contemplated his words. Within seconds she seemed to come to a decision. "Don't worry about Ron. If I know my brother - and trust me, no one knows him better - he'll be with Hermione by the time I return. I'm ashamed for ever doubting him. But I guarantee you right now, if you come near me or Ron or Hermione or Harry or anyone else I even remotely know I will curse you so thoroughly your great-grandchildren will feel it." She turned on her heel and walked out.

"Ginny," he called out, not willing to have a hundred million galleons slip through his fingers so easily. "If you just…." He stopped as he found she was still brandishing her wand but was aiming it much lower.

"Your grandchildren, Draco," she snarled. There were those sharp teeth again.

"Right." He backed up. "I suppose this means lunch is off for next week." The answer came in the form of a resounding slam.

As Ginny stepped through the threshold, she heard the unmistakable pop of someone Apparating into the room she had just vacated. She paused briefly outside his door and thought she heard someone scream, "What do you mean you were out getting wine?" just before she Apparated home.

---

Epilogue

"…and then, the next day, Potter shows up at my door. Apparently, as soon as Weasley got back, and once he was able to pry himself out of Granger's awaiting tentacles, they all compared notes and came to the unmistakable conclusion that it was all a plot against Potter because, of course, everything revolves around Potter. The world would implode if it were about anything other than Potter. There were about two hours of threats, a few of which I will admit, were rather creative and then, to make his point, he hexed me with that ridiculous curse that makes you dance about. I mean, really; he destroyed a dark lord and the best he could do was make me do The Hustle.

"My only consolation was that it took Weasley six attempts before he finally got home and the oaf didn't bother to stop long enough to conjure some up some shorts. I heard an irate mob chased across a crowded bizarre in Morocco and he was propositioned by a group of elderly nanas when he popped up in the middle of their knitting circle. If it wasn't for that, I'd be inconsolable."

Severus Snape quietly sipped his brandy and listened to the boy drone on. He had expected Draco to make a mess of things but even he didn't think that the boy could screw things up as royally as he had. And even now, after all this, the boy still hadn't a clue.

"Come on, Severus, you disappoint me. I was expecting in chorus of 'You incompetent fool'. 'You waste of perfectly good ineptitude'. 'You might as well be a Longbottom.' You know, all the sweet nothings you say when you're comforting someone."

Severus rewarded him with a patented sneer. "Your horrifically convoluted and sadly ill-advised plan not only managed to solidify Granger and Weasley's devotion but saved Potter's relationship from the brink of oblivion from where it was surely headed. In a show of utter incompetence you succeeded in achieving the exact opposite of all your goals and in record time; most people would need a lifetime to accomplish such a grand disaster."

Draco let out a sigh of relief. "Now that's more like it."

Severus had hoped that the boy was a bit wiser than his father, but it seemed there were some family traits that could not be drowned away in that shallow of a gene pool. "Foolish boy, did you really think you had to go through so much trouble? Everything you needed is right in this room."

Draco looked around Severus's ghastly dwelling. Other than its tacky furniture and lone ghoulish resident the only other thing within its slimy walls was Iris, who sat across from them, thumbing absentmindedly through a book she clearly wasn't reading. "What are you talking about?"

"He's talking about me, you idiot."

They both turned towards Iris. "Apparently, this case of speaking in nonsensical terms is contagious. What in blazes are you referring to?" Draco asked.

She paused long enough to roll her eyes. "You need to be bonded to a witch, right?"

"So?"

"So, you are actually part of me. We couldn't be more bonded than that."

He blinked at her for a moment. "But you need to be pure-blood. The part of you that is Marie Elena is a half-blood."

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I'm made of magic. I can't be any more pure than that. I, dear Draco, am the answer to your prayers." She sat back on her seat and smiled silkily. "People have been telling you to go fuck yourself all your life and now you get to finally do it."

Draco looked as though he knew he had just been insulted but couldn't be bothered to come up with a pithy reply. "The spell is only supposed to last for another couple of weeks. Then you disappear."

"Not if I'm pregnant," she informed him. "Once there is a new life growing inside me I become real. It takes life to make life. And I think the Potion's Master here can whip up a conception cocktail to help things along quickly. Once I'm pregnant, the bond between Marie Elena and me will be broken and we'll both be free. Of course, then you'll have to explain to her that you failed so spectacularly and that all her efforts were wasted, while you got exactly what you wanted. Somehow, though, I doubt you really care. "

He stared at her for a moment and then turned to Severus. "Is that right? Is what she's saying right?"

"Yes," Severus answered plainly. "You really don't care one iota about what that Marie Elena person thinks or what she has gone through?"

Draco began to twitch violently. "Don't toy with me, Severus."

Severus relented. "She seems to be making sense. Everything I remember about the magic you used to create her seems to be correct."

Draco turned back to Iris. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Why make me go through all this nonsense?"

She shrugged. "I wanted Ron. Your needs never entered my mind."

"And now?"

"Now I have to go with my second choice." She held up a flawlessly manicured hand to stop Draco's pending tantrum. "I want to live, Draco. I like it here and I'd prefer to stick around a bit longer."

"So, it's still about you?"

She gave him a sly smile. "It's what you would have done."

This, no one in the room could deny. They began to talk of the evening's plans and it quickly became clear that these two people where made for each other. In more ways than one.

Severus had considered telling Draco that when he mentioned everything Draco needed was in this very room, he wasn't referring to Iris at all. That he, in fact, was referring to himself.

Lucius's will was nothing more than an elaborate and totally useless bit of drivel. He was more concerned with his choice of hats than making his final request any sort of legally binding contract. All Severus had to do was destroy it and it was forgotten. He had hoped Draco would realize this and offer him some bribe; there was a bit of ocean-view property he'd had his eye on.

Perhaps it was better this way. Despite all appearances, he did care for his godchild and this would make Draco happy. In truth, this was probably the only way Draco would find happiness and contentedness with another human being.

The younger Malfoy loved himself so much there really wasn't room for anyone else.

finis