Chapter Thirteen

"Draco, I need to ask you," Blaise said as he and his friend sat under on the veranda at the Zabini Mansion, "Are you ever going to tell Ginny about the bet?"

Draco paused in his quest to pour tea into his mouth.

"Why would I do that?" Draco asked. He sounded surprised. In all honesty, Blaise was surprised too. He had all but forgotten about their bet until that morning, when he had been attempting to remember exactly when Draco had become interested in the youngest Weasley in the first place.

Having gotten to know the girl a bit more personally than he had known her before, he knew she didn't deserve to be lied to. She was a bright, vivaciously charming woman and Blaise was sure she would make an excellent Lady Malfoy – in fact, Blaise could think of no one better, and neither could Narcissa. But the good natured bet that had started as a joke was quickly turning into a bigger and bigger problem, and soon it would turn from a little white lie into a massive behemoth of deception. The sooner Ginny knew what was going on, the better.

"She should know, Draco," Blaise said.

"Whatever for? Only you and I know, and you aren't going to tell her, are you? She would only get upset, and it would ruin all my hard work!" he snorted. "She doesn't need to know. It doesn't matter."

"What do you mean it doesn't matter! Of course it matters! You're trying to win her over, and she's falling for it, and you don't even really like her! You would ruin her life." He slapped his thigh for emphasis.

"I do like her," Draco said quietly, ignoring everything else Blaise had said. Blaise choked on his tea.

"You what?" he demanded.

"I do like her!" Draco said loudly. Blaise couldn't say anything, he just sat there and gaped at him. "I do," Draco repeated, softer this time. A trace of a flush appeared high on Draco's cheekbones. "She's beautiful, and she's funny, and talented and smart, and I do like her!"

"Go on," Blaise urged him. Suddenly he wished he had a muggle tape recorder.

Draco threw him a dirty look but continued.

"I didn't think I would, you know. I thought I might be able to stand her, but I never actually thought I would like her. She's – she's not what I expected her to be."

Blaise knew how much it had taken for Draco to admit this, and he had a hard time keeping a proud smile off his face. But Draco wasn't done yet.

"She's not like anyone else I've ever met. When she said I wasn't allowed to spend any money on her, I thought it was just because she felt poor and didn't want me to rub jewels in her face. I thought maybe she was just being proud. But she really, truly and honestly doesn't care about any of that, and it's refreshing! And she's brave! She jumped out of one of those muggle aeroplanes, and she told me afterwards that she was terrified of heights, and that parachuting was never one of her dreams to begin with. Ron had been making fun of me when I asked what one of her dreams were. But she did it anyways, and she did it without fear. She was just determined, and she did it! And she's honest, and even though my father has always said that honest people are soft, it makes her stronger. She isn't like Druella, or Pansy, or Daphne... She's – she's just different. She's genuine, and she doesn't judge, and she doesn't just want to be on my arm to show off – she doesn't care if she's on my arm at all. She doesn't simper, or suck up, or have false modesty. She can hold her own with the Slytherins – dammit, she should have been a Slytherin. And she's witty and can take a joke and she gives as good as she gets. I - I really do like her." When he finished, it appeared that he realized what he'd just said, because his cheeks pinkened vividly and his eyes narrowed on him. "And if you tell anyone what I've just said, I will kill you."

"Not a chance," Blaise said with false solemnity. "I swear I won't tell." He smiled at his friend. "But you really should tell her about the bet. Either tell her, or dissolve it. Trust me, I've known her longer. You left out a few of her more sparkling personality traits: she's stubborn, brilliant with hexes, and she's truly fearsome when she's angry. And believe me, Draco, if you get her angry, you will never make it back into her good graces again. Do something about the bet before it's too late. She is kind and funny most of the time, I grant you, but she has a temper unlike anything I've ever seen, and if it sets off anywhere near you if she finds out that you started going out with her for a stupid bet, you won't be recovering for a long, long time."

Draco mulled this over while he finished his cup of tea. "I don't want to tell her yet. Or ever." Blaise narrowed his eyes. "It would only hurt her anyways," Draco rationalized.

"Draco, you just said that you valued her honesty... Don't you think she might value yours, as well?"

Draco looked at him, his expression changed. Blaise sighed softly to himself. His friend was the best in the world, and Blaise usually had unrepentant faith in him, whatever anyone else said be damned. Draco was a good man. Blaise knew that without doubt. Draco had rigid character standards, and the fact that he liked Ginny was tantamount to his giving her the ringing stamp of approval, which he very, very rarely gave to anyone. He had been raised in a strict, unloving environment, and Blaise sometimes wondered if his friend even knew what love felt like. Draco valued and esteemed his mother, but did he love her? Did he really know what it felt like to do everything for another's happiness? Draco would jump in front of a curse for his mother, but was the action bourne from duty or genuine caring?

Blaise had been best friends with Draco since before first year, but Draco was often the sort of 'closed-book' friend that baffled and confused him, even though trying to figure out the unspoken reasons behind Draco's actions often made for entertainment. Sometimes, Draco just didn't know how to move past his upbringing, his own expectations for life, and his own unyielding ideals. Draco neeeded to learn how to put another person first. How to love life, for what it was, not just think of it as an unending trial.

Blaise had great faith that Ginny might be the one to teach Draco about life; she was bright where he was dark; she was vivacious where he was stone-cold ritual; she had spark and vibrancy where Draco's own light was starting to go out.

Looking at Draco, Blaise knew that Ginny was the perfect woman for him. He knew that they would find themselves in the other and live a long and happy life together, probably with one of the happier marriages in the Pureblood society. The trick, Blaise was finding, was getting the two of them to the alter without either of them screwing it up.

Blaise might have to call in the reinforcements.

***

Ginny stared at Draco with dawning horror. No... he couldn't be serious... There was no way she could have been so stupid as to trust him... It just wasn't possible! She felt her mouth drop open slightly, and he repeated himself, thinking she hadn't heard him the first time.

"Ginny, we're going white water rafting."

"Oh my God," she said, unable to say much more. "Are you serious? Are you sure Ron didn't put you up to this? Because I really don't think-"

"This has nothing to do with Ron. This is my own idea." He peered nervously at her, a sidelong glance that she now knew meant he was afraid she would be unimpressed. He was very inept, charmingly so, at coming up with creative ideas. She knew he'd gone to her family to get a good, generally thorough background of things she'd always wanted to do, but she had the feeling that the ideas stolen from her family and friends were beginning to run out. Some of the more recent experiences were somewhat frazzling. First the nose piercing (which, if she were being honest, she loved anyways), then the Skydiving (which had been Ron's fault, obviously, but again, she hadn't had a completely unenjoyable experience. She had clenched her wand tightly the entire way down, ready to apparate at the last second if the parachute didn't work, but she had to admit... It was rather exciting. Thrilling. Breathtaking. Oh, alright, it had been marvelous. But she was still peeved.), and now this. White water rafting? He had to be joking...

"This – this is your idea?" she clarified. She had to be sure...

He nodded. Smirked. Smug bastard. "All my own. And before you refuse outright, might I remind you how much you loved Skydiving?" Her mouth dropped open again... She hadn't said she'd liked it at all, where on earth had he gotten the idea that she'd liked it? "You didn't curse me when you got to the ground, darling."

Oh, well, she supposed that was true. Reluctantly, she found herself nodding her head. "Alright, when are we doing this?"

Draco made a show of checking his pocket watch. "In about five minutes."

"WHAT?!"

"Come along. Here, this is for you," he said. He pulled a small box from his pocket and un-shrunk it, holding it out to her. She snatched it from him and yanked the lid open, threw the paper on the floor, and pulled out a long, snakelike piece of rubber tubing.

"Er, Draco, what is this?"

"That would be your wetsuit."

"Suit?! You mean I have to -" --she glanced doubtfully at the offending piece of 'fabric'-- "Wear this?"

"Yes." He nodded. "I have one too. It's to keep you from catching a cold. They're quite comfortable, actually. A bit tight on the, er, regions, but in general, its not half bad."

"So where's yours, then?" she asked waspishly, looking him up and down. He grinned at her, and then ripped off every stitch of clothing, leaving him clad in only a skin-tight, black suit that showed off every single sinuous bit of muscle, every curve, and every last bulge on his body. She gulped. And then she got jealous. "You're not wearing that."

"Why not?"

"Because every woman in London is going to see you!"

"Ah," he said, smiling at her in that suave sort of way which used to irritate her to no end but now made her feel a bit shaky in the knees. "So. Ginevra is jealous?"

"Not at all," Ginny said, lying through her teeth. "Just concerned for your general reputation."

"Well," said Draco, stepping towards her. She found herself with her face at the level of his suited chest, which left little to the imagination. She swallowed, hard. "Put yours on, and then we'll see, hm?"

Regaining her pride, she gathered up the suit in her hands and marched off to her room. Oh, he would regret this. She grinned to herself.

***

The second she stepped out of her room, he knew he'd made a mistake. His mouth dried, his throat tightened (not to mention his abdomen, which constricted of its own volition) and he could swear, the room tilted. Just a little, but enough to completely throw him off balance.

She was... there was no other word for it. She was sexy. Damn her, but she looked like some temptress sent by Beazelbub just to sway him. Oh, God. She pulled the second skin away from her stomach in an attempt to ease the tightness, and when it snapped back to her firm belly, Draco nearly fainted.

The svelte black dress she had been wearing when he had first been attracted to her, the hour of agony he had felt when he had been staring slavishly at her pelvis as a small, delicate bird was inked into her epidermis, and even the day the two of them had gone swimming... This wetsuit was right up at the top of the list in terms of sexiness.

And then he found himself echoing her previous statement. "You can't wear that."

And damn her to hell again, she smirked at him. "What, can't handle it?" she taunted.

He knew he had promised himself not to scare her away with physicality before their relationship had been cemented. He had vowed to himself, and again after he had realized, when speaking to Blaise, that he liked her, that he wouldn't treat her like any of the other women he had dallied with. She wasn't a dalliance, she was his future wife. There would be plenty of time for sexual playtime later. But bugger him if she wasn't making it damned bloody difficult.

"Sh- shall we go?" he said. He held out his hand and the contact of her skin brushing against his left him dizzy.

"Are you alright?" she asked him. Her dark eyes were peering at him from beneath bronzed skin from her new home in the Carribean and they sparkled with mischief. He nodded, ignoring the fact that she was making fun of him.

"Let's go." He squeezed her hand and disapparated.

***

"Welcome to 'White Water Rafting Wales'. This will be a trip down one of our easier rivers, which has a level of two. There will only be three patches of serious rapids, but the majority of the water will be rough and patchy. Only one part is truly dangerous, but we have never had an accident here, and I do not expect for us to ruin our record today, so never fear! First things first..."

The guide divided the group of thirty into two, and put seven people into each dingy. He himself and three other guides hauled their kayaks to the pebbled shore from the shack which housed the rest of the equipment, and as one, the party, after checking to be sure that lifejackets and helmets were properly fastened, grabbed up their paddles and hoisted their rafts into the knee deep water. Draco helped Ginny into her seat before jumping in beside her. They somehow managed to be sitting at the front, and the guide was in the back shouting instructions.

"LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT, LEFT LEFTLEFTLEFT!" The exercise was fun, and the energy was intoxicating. More than once, one or both of them flew out of the raft and into the icy water, but the river was deep and there was little undertow, and so they were easily pulled back into the raft again, laughing and exhilerated. After an hour of heavy paddling, the group pulled into a shallow beach for their lunch break; their lunch had been transported on the road by vehicle.

It was simple tuna sandwhiches, but Draco was so hungry, he ate four of them. Ginny laughed at him, sopping wet, and shoved him into the river once he was done. He was about to throw her in, when the guide shouted again. "WHO'S UP FOR CLIFF JUMPING?"

Smirking at her, and clearly goading her into accepting, she huffed. "Are you going to do it, then?" She asked tartly.

"I wouldn't want to leave you here all by yourself," he said.

"Who says I'm staying here?"

"I don't know. Are you sure you're man enough to do it?" he taunted.

"Excuse me, but who of us is the one who jumped out of an Aeroplane! Some stupid little cliff isn't going to scare me!" She looked him up and down. "You, on the other hand..."

"Merling," Draco groaned. "You'll be the death of me, I swear."

"Gonna do it then?"

"Absolutely." He grinned.

"Race you."

"You're on."

"Go!" She took off, leaving him in the dust. Cursing, he raced after her, and just as they reached the top, he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her close to him, sending both of them tubling down to the icy water below, shrieking the whole way.

***

Narcissa had rarely seen her husband so furious. True, in all their years together, he had had plenty of occasions to be angry, but few times had she seen him work himself into a frenzy, shouting at everyone and everything without restraint or care that his generally reserved persona had just flown out the window.

"Dear, I really do think you're being a bit hard on him. And the couch."

He snarled at her from where he was busy tearing apart a pillow with his bare hands on the couch in his study. "Oh you do, do you? Well when was the last time you had to deal with your traitorous son going off with a blood-traitor little bint!"

She inspected her freshly manicured fingers with distaste. "I believe I have been dealing with it."

"Really." He sneered, his pale face mottled with rage. "And what have you accomplished?"

"I've arranged for the Minister's Wedding Chaplain to be free for our personal use at any time in the next three months that I happen to decide upon, I've ordered the Madame Toulerie from France to send samples for fabric and put me down for several gowns and a few wizards Dress Robes, and I've ordered the cake and the invitations. All I have left to do is meet our future in-laws and set up a date."

"You – you're ENCOURAGING HIM?"

"Don't be so dramatic, darling. You'll get a hernia again. And we all know how you dislike taking your potions."

"I can't believe you. That you would so flagrantly go against my wishes -"

Narcissa gave up pretending to be disinterested, suddenly very, very annoyed. "Lucius Abraxas Malfoy! If you say ONE more word against Ginny, I will feed you to the Thestrals! You are being purposefully beligerent and refusing to see what is directly in front of you! You might be content to watch your son wither and die in the cell of your making, while the rest of the world finally moves on and accepts that marriage is about more than bloodlines!" She stabbed her finger into his chest and was mollified to see him flinch. "She may not be rich, and she may be a blood-traitor, but she is smart and she makes Draco happy. I don't know why you married me, but you had better be damned sure you don't regret having a wife with a brain before you foist another brainless bimbo on Draco in hopes that she might bear more children. He deserves more than that, and besides, Ginny is smart, and she comes from a family of breeders. If you truly are concerned about the continuation of the Malfoy name over your son's happiness, consider that she comes from a family who traditionally have only sons. She is the first daughter in generations, and she is the wisest choice I can think of for a line that demands male heirs! Now if you are quite finished pining over your foolish rivalry with Arthur Weasley, which I know very well is the only real reason you can think of to complain about her, I have a wedding to arrange!"

Smirking to herself, she left him there, gaping after her like a sodden puppy. It wasn't very often that she lost her temper, her aristocratic breeding far to embedded in her personality to allower her very much freedom with her emotion, but when she did – it felt good.