“I will not be silenced!” Mrs Weasley shouted, tears forming at her eyes. “Our daughter has been stolen from us, and it’s all their fault! A leopard can’t change its spots, and it’s clear enough that the Malfoys haven’t changed theirs!”

“ENOUGH!”

Mrs Weasley finally fell silent, but it was not Narcissa who had yelled. There, standing on the other side of the room stood Draco, pale faced and fists clenched, with his piercing eyes narrowed directly on Ginny’s mother.

“Excuse me,” Mrs Weasley began in a coldly dignified voice, but Draco cut her off short with a stony glare. Never had Ginny seen her mother so easily silenced, and for a moment she could only stare in awe at her fiancé and the prowess of his glaring, grey eyes.

“Don’t ever talk about my mother or my family in that way again!” Draco ground out in a deep, furious voice. “You don’t know anything about the situation, so I suggest that you take your daughter’s advice and be quiet so that we can actually tell you what is going on.”

Ginny waited for the bomb to explode, knowing that never would her mother allow someone to talk to her in that way, but instead Mrs Weasley simply opened and closed her mouth silently for a moment, and then looked to her husband for his verdict.

“Arthur?”

“Let the children talk, Molly.”

Knowing that she had been defeated on both counts, Mrs Weasley finally stepped down from her pedestal of fury and stared at Draco with a mutinous expression on her face. “Very well,” she said in a resigned voice. “Explain.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, but instead of saying anything back to her, he marched over to Ginny and took her hand in his. Her eyes flickered up to his in surprise, but he only squeezed her hand reassuringly, which she returned, if a little convulsively, and took a steadying breath before meeting her parents’ startled gaze.

“I’m in love with your daughter, and she’s in love with me.”

Molly gasped, Arthur frowned, and Narcissa seemed to be pondering something that made her eyes light up with a secret twinkle. Ginny didn’t waste time reflecting over any of them though, knowing that she too had a part to play in this.

“He’s telling the truth,” She said firmly, turning to face her parents. “I love him, and I want to marry him. I know you think that I was forced into this, and maybe I was upset when it first happened, but Mal— Draco is a good man.” She turned her face up to her fiancé’s, while still gripping his hand, and met his silvery, grey eyes with her own. A smile passed over her face that was more than the fake smile she had intended, and her grip on Draco’s hand tightened slightly. “ I know he’ll take care of me.”

Draco gave her the smallest of smiles, and then turned his face away to meet the stunned faces of Ginny’s parents, a rather mocking expression on his own. “So you see, Mrs Weasley, trying to stop this marriage won’t achieve anything. Not only does the bonding magic not allow us to break the engagement, but you must see that your daughter is happy with me. She loves me, and even though you may not like it, and you may not like me, you really do have no choice but to accept it; unless, of course, you wish to make your daughter unhappy, for that is all you will achieve here.”

“Is this true, Ginny?” Mrs Weasley asked in a faint voice, not quite able to believe her ears.

Ginny nodded her head. “It’s true, Mum.”

“Well,” Mrs Weasley said in a brisk voice and then walked over to Draco. Ginny felt him tense up next to her, but much to the surprise of all, and Draco more especially, that formidable woman merely enfolded him in her affectionate arms and gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Why didn’t you say so?” she cried out cheerfully, and then gave him another hug, which made his eyes nearly start out of his head.

Draco glanced at Ginny with pleading eyes, begging her silently to rescue him from her mother, but Ginny could only laugh. As was typical in the female line of Weasleys, her mother had gone from one extreme to the next. Instead of shouting at the poor young man, she now cooed all over him and fussed about him just like she would one of her own sons. Draco didn’t seem to know how to react, and just stood there like a wooden plank, stiffening from every affectionate pat to his shoulder, or every exuberant smile she threw his way.

“Oh, I’m in all a flutter!” Mrs Weasley declared rapturously. “I do declare that I’ve never felt so silly in my life. Only think how awful I was being to you! You poor thing, you should never have let me treat you in that way.” She beamed at Draco again- who looked very much like he wanted to flee for the hills- and laid an imperious hand on his shoulder. “Come now, dear, you must tell me what made you first fall in love with my daughter. I’m very curious to know how this came about.”

Draco stuttered something barely intelligible, but Ginny never quite managed to find out just what lies he created for her mother’s fancy, for her father had just claimed her attention by tapping her gently on the shoulder. Her face instantly fell into a smile, and impulsively she threw her arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Oh, Papa, I’ve missed you so much over this month,” Ginny whispered feelingly into his chest.

Mr Weasley patted her back soothingly, and pulled himself away slightly to give her a nice, fatherly smile. “I can imagine. You gave us quite a fright with that letter of yours.”

Ginny blinked away the tears that had formed at her eyes and gave a shaky laugh. “I’m sorry. You know me; I always like to make a drama out of everything.”

He frowned slightly and tilted her chin up so he could see her face better. “Are you really happy with this engagement, Ginny?”

She went to say yes, as was expected from her previous declaration, but for some reason she found herself hesitating. It was hard to lie to her father, and a small part of her wished to tell him the truth. She was by no means as depressed about the engagement as she had first been when Draco had proposed to her, but she would only be kidding herself if she said that she was truly happy with her situation. However, things were different now. She didn’t know how to explain it, but it was as if some sort of silent agreement had been made between them during that moment when both their parents had come barging into the room again. There was an understanding between them that had not been there before. He certainly had become more likeable to her, having saved her from her parents’ interference, and she would never forget the way he had silenced her mother with a simple glare. That had been priceless.

Her eyes instinctively glanced towards Draco again, watching his expression become more and more uncomfortable as he talked awkwardly to her mother. It was amusing to see him so out of his element, and for a moment she just found herself smiling as she watched him. He almost looked cute with his panicked, grey eyes and edgy smile that seemed more like a grimace to Ginny.

“Ah, I see…” Arthur said slowly, a small smile of his own coming to his face.

“What?” Ginny answered, turning a startled gaze back to her father. She had barely realised that he had even spoken to her, and she had certainly not said anything in reply to give him an answer.

“Never mind,” He replied with another smile. “I’m sure you will be happy.”

Ginny frowned to herself, not quite sure what her father meant by that, but before she could ask him what he had meant, Narcissa came walking regally over towards them and gave her father a surprisingly warm smile for such a seemingly cold woman.

“Your wife seems to be quite taken with my son, though I fear I cannot say the same for him. He is not used to such exuberance.”

All three of them looked back towards Draco and Mrs Weasley, and Ginny had to try extremely hard not to laugh. By the sounds of things, her mother was recounting a story of her own romance with Arthur, while placing a fond hand on the young man’s arm and sighing wistfully from time to time. Draco himself was eyeing that hand on his arm with some misgiving, and occasionally shooting uneasy glances at the rapturous redhead beside him.

“I’d better go rescue him,” Ginny said with a grin, and excused herself from her father and Narcissa to go save her soon-to-be husband from her mother’s clutches.

“Stop hogging my fiancé all to yourself, Mum,” Ginny accused with her eyes dancing mischievously. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say it is you who wants to marry him.”

Mrs Weasley laughed loudly and disclaimed any such inclination, but she did pinch Draco’s pale cheek and told him that if she were younger she would certainly have given her daughter a run for her money, for one couldn’t deny that he was a handsome lad.

Draco could only goggle in some disbelief at Ginny’s mother, his cheeks faintly tingeing with pink, but that smiling woman only patted his cheek again and then excused herself from the two of them before making her way back to Arthur and Narcissa.

Giggling slightly, Ginny sat down next to him on the seat. “You should see your face right now; it’s quite amusing.”

He closed his mouth and tried to regain some sense of composure. “How would you feel if your fiancé’s parent started flirting with you?”

Ginny burst out laughing. “Oh, that would be something indeed, but I really doubt that Lucius Malfoy will be flirting with me anytime soon.”

She saw his mouth quiver in amusement, and felt her own smile widen on her face.

“So tell me,” she said in a business-like manner, abruptly changing the subject now that she was satisfied that she had managed to get a smile out of him. “What do we do now that we have declared to my parents that we are madly in love with each other?”

His eyes found hers, a not very impressed expression lingering in them. “This was your idea. You tell me.”

She shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I never really thought that far.”

He scowled at that, but Ginny only held her hands up in surrender. “Hey, I never said that I had everything figured out. I only got so far as placating their tempers. I was kind of hoping that you would figure out what we do from here, because I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly feel like pretending to be in love with you for the rest of my life.”

Once Ginny saw Draco’s spirited, grey stallion, she was quite thankful that he had put his foot down in not letting her ride it. The horse was very large, and to be frank, quite scary. It stared at her suspiciously through dark eyes, seeming to have taken an immediate dislike to her. Ginny warily watched the grey horse toss its head challengingly and stamp its large hooves, as if daring her to come any closer. Ginny wisely backed away, causing Armande to let out a small chuckle.

“A wise choice. Draco’s horse is as prickly as he is himself to strangers; though, when I think about it,” Armande mused out loud, casting a sly grin at his cousin, “Your horse doesn’t like anyone except you. You know, it’s uncanny how similar the two of you are.”

Draco only smirked and fondly patted his horse’s nose. “Just shows he has good taste, right Ulysses?”

“Ulysses?” Ginny questioned, looking at both men curiously.

Armande sniggered slightly. “Draco named his horse ‘Ulysses’ after the Greek adventurer. You know? The one who thought of the Trojan horse? He was supposed to be very cunning, or so they say.”

Ginny vaguely recalled something about crafty Greeks and Trojan horses in her basic history classes as a child, but she had never been particularly enthusiastic about those lessons. She was more interested in learning about spells and potions, though she had not been allowed to use a wand. Wizards, however, seemed to think that it was important for all magical children to learn about general world history. They were especially interested in that of the old Romans and Greeks, for more often than not, magic folk had somehow played a part in shaping those great events of the past. The gods, after all, were actually powerful wizards and witches who had used their powers to control and manipulate the much weaker muggles. This was soon stopped under the Muggle Protection Act, but their acts still lived on in legends and myths in both the muggle and wizarding world.

“Oh,” Ginny managed to say with a rather vacant smile. It was the age-old tactic of smiling and nodding when one didn’t quite understand what was being said. Ginny happened to excel at this art, having spent years listening to Hermione blather on about Merlin knew what. The fact that she could not remember exactly what her bookish friend had talked about just said it all in how much she had paid attention to those conversations.

“Of course,” Armande continued cheekily, bringing Ginny’s thoughts back to the present, “Ulysses was also very arrogant.” A rather playful grin settled on his face as he turned to his cousin. “Another trait you share with your horse, perhaps?”

Draco only rolled his eyes and continued fixing the saddle on his horse, which, uncannily enough, was looking very haughty and important in that moment. Ulysses was certainly living up to his namesake, Ginny thought with a smile.

“So what’s your horse called, then?” she asked curiously, now turning her attention to the chestnut horse Armande was leading out of the stable. This one was much less impressive in appearance than Ulysses, not being as big, but it was still a beautiful horse all the same. Its eyes were softer, and there was a single, white strip running down the centre of its nose.

“His horse is called Châtaigne,” Draco replied in some amusement. Clearly he thought Armande’s choice of name was just as diverting as Armande had found his.

Ginny’s brow creased in confusion. “Is that French? What does it mean?”

Draco glanced at his cousin with a smirk, his eyes lighting up with friendly mockery. “Typical of Armande, it is both unimaginative and clichéd.”

“Well?” Ginny prompted, still having no idea what the name meant, and feeling sadly left out of the joke.

“It means ‘chestnut.’ Not very original, as you can see,” Draco replied, gesturing to the chestnut horse.

Ginny laughed appreciatively and cast an amused glance at Armande. “How very fitting.”

Armande just shrugged and gave his boyish grin. “So what? Châtaigne likes his name. He doesn’t need some dead person to give him consequence.”

Laughing again, Ginny looked to Draco to see how he would react to that, but he was just smiling at his cousin in what could only be described as cousinly affection. It was quite a shock for Ginny to see such a soft emotion on her fiancé’s normally haughty face, and for a moment she could only stare at him wide-eyed. His steel-like eyes, which were usually so hard, somehow seemed less piercing and cold, and this in turn lessened the harshness of his features, giving him a much more approachable appearance. The smile playing on his mouth was neither mocking nor reserved; it was completely natural, and Ginny could only describe it as pleasant.

“I think Châtaigne should count himself lucky you were not in a creative mood that day,” Draco retorted mockingly. Ginny was sad to see the pleasant smile fade away into a smirk. “He’d probably end up being called Cheval.”

Armande let out a shout of laughter, but once again Ginny was left feeling confused.

“What does that mean?” she asked, bewildered by all these French words.

Draco glanced at her, a smile lingering his eyes. “It means horse.”

Ginny frowned to herself. How could that be any more creative? If anything, calling a horse ‘horse’ was even less creative. She just didn’t get it, but judging by the way Armande was laughing, and by the way Draco was trying not to, they obviously found it very funny.

“I don’t get it,” she complained, feeling more than unusually stupid, considering both men seemed to find the joke amusing.

“My cousin seems to think that the more obvious something is, the more creative he is being,” Draco replied, his smirk widening. “Hence, to him, calling his horse ‘horse’ would be more creative than, let’s say, calling his horse after a well-known wizard or witch.”

Armande just grinned and then clambered up onto his horse. “And what’s wrong with that? We’re not all boring and bookish like you. Some of us actually don’t care about fusty people from the past. We’d much prefer to name our animals after things that matter; like their colour, or their breed.”

Draco just shook his head, a smile playing on his mouth. “Whatever you say, Armande.” He glanced at Ginny, and Ginny noticed that his smile seemed to lessen. It wasn’t that he grew suddenly hostile, but she did note that the affection in the smile seemed to fade. She had come to realise that Draco was quite a reserved person, and while he could talk to her quite happily, it was clear that he was very reluctant to be open in his softer emotions with her.

“This is the horse you’ll be riding.” He brought out a beautiful white mare from the stable. “Her name is Winter.” At Ginny’s questioning look, he gave a small smile. “She’s my mother’s horse.”

“I can’t ride your mother’s horse!” Ginny exclaimed in horror. She wouldn’t dream of touching Narcissa’s horse.

Draco shrugged away her protestations with one careless wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about it. She never rides Winter now anyway.” He frowned suddenly. “Have you ridden a horse before?”

Ginny shook her head. Draco then spent the next few minutes going over what she should expect from the horse and what she should do while riding. Ginny tried to remember as much as possible, but was relieved when Draco laughed and said that if she had any problems, she just had to call out to him.

“I won’t let you break your neck, Weasley,” he said with grin. Ginny wasn’t sure if she was comforted by that promise or not, and watched agitatedly as he saddled up the horse. “Ready?” he asked, looking at her through those steady, grey eyes.

Ginny nodded and allowed him to help her up onto the white mare. She tried to get as comfortable and secure as she could in the saddle, feeling suddenly very nervous now that she was on the horse. It was a lot higher up here than she had thought, and while she had been higher on a broom, it was very different when one knew one’s stead would not always listen to one’s commands.

On voicing these fears, Draco had only smirked at her and told her to stop being so chicken-hearted. Ginny lifted her chin haughtily and told him in no uncertain terms that Gryffindors were never chicken-hearted. This seemed to amuse Draco greatly, causing him to say quite mockingly, though not meanly, “So prove it.”

Ginny held her reins tightly. “I will.”

“Come on you two,” Armande complained, clearly getting impatient. “I don’t want to be sitting in a stable all day.”

Draco nodded and moved over to his own horse. Ginny watched in some jealously as he gracefully swung himself up into the saddle and reined his spirited horse with a simple pull at the reigns. She promised herself then and there that she would get better at horse riding so that she could give him a run for his money. She just hated knowing that he was better than her at something. He could already dance better than her, and fly, she had to admit grudgingly. Ginny huffed to herself. There was no stomaching it. She would just have to practise more.