Ginny pawed through the cupboards, searching for tea, cups, and sugar, not necessarily in that order. The kitchen was enormous. Darthaegan was large, but not that large. The kitchen, in her opinion, was a bit excessive.

How was anyone supposed to be able to find anything?

Aha! Climbing on top of the counter, she nabbed the tea from the top shelf.

"Lady Malfoy?"

It had been uttered several times, but she finally realized that someone was talking to her.

She glanced down, knees still next to the sink. "Yeah?"

"Could we do something for you?"

There were three or four anxious servants standing in the middle of the kitchen.

"You could show me where to find a teacup," she replied pleasantly. "And sugar. Oh, and probably a kettle."

One of the servants (she thought she was the housekeeper) hastily attempted to retrieve the tea from her. Ginny, however, clutched her spoils. "We can make that tea for you, my lady," the housekeeper said insistently.

"So can I," she retorted. "I've done it for most of my life."

"But for a woman of your station-"

"I know how to make my own tea," she snapped. "I don't need you to do it for me."

Her hands were shaking and she felt oddly like bursting into tears.

The housekeeper looked the same way.

This is her job, she reminded herself.

"I'm sorry," she said weakly, handing the woman the tea. "I'm just not very agreeable before my morning tea. But I'd still like to know where everything is, in case there was a random plague or something. Then I'd be without my morning tea and disagreeable to your corpses, and Draco would probably say that Malfoys don't disrespect the dead, and we'd all be in a fix, wouldn't we?"

The housekeeper smiled a little then. "The cups are in this cupboard here," she said, tapping one three doors down, then removing a cup, "the kettle is below the sink," which she also took out, "and the sugar is in the freezer."

"The freezer?"

"Keeps the insects away."

Wouldn't you just use a spell? she started to say, but then realized that the reason these servants were probably servants was due to weak magical ability.

One of the other servants had put the water on, and soon Ginny had a nicely prepared cup of tea. She sipped it and conversed with the servants. Ethel (the housekeeper) and her family had worked for the Malfoys at Darthaegan for seven generations. The other servants were cousins of hers, and they did large tasks and a small brood of house elves helped them out.

Conquered the kitchen, she thought with a smile and continued talking.

It shouldn't have been different than normal. He rarely slept with anyone. In previous relationships, he had left almost immediately after acts had been completed. He had no siblings, and neither cousins nor comrades had the guts to make him share a bed in childhood. Even then, he had been the heir- and the heir got what he wanted.

But it was different.

His body felt an odd mixture of sore and sated. He vaguely remembered her head against his chest as they slipped into slumber; how even simple proximity could be pleasurable. Post-coital propinquity had its charms, he'd mumbled to her, to which she replied, "Can't you just say you like to cuddle?"

He wrinkled his nose.

Cuddling was not something a Malfoy should like.

Or admit to liking, anyhow.

He found a set of clean clothes on a chair by the bed, ostensibly arranged by the valet. Someone had brought their luggage into the yellow room, and it certainly hadn't been Ginny.

"Ah, my lord?"

Draco turned his head slightly, shrugging into his shirt. "Yes?" He found his servants' hesitation amusing most of the time.

"Were you planning on doing the traditional boat ride around the island?"

Inwardly he groaned. It wasn't an important tradition by any means; more like just a time to tell the bride what would be expected of her. The island would provide a relaxing backdrop, et cetera and so forth. Still, he would have to tell her sooner or later.

"Yes," he replied, fastening the last button. "We'll be out shortly."

"I'll have it ready," the servant promised.

Draco gave him a long look.

Hastily the servant added, "My lord."

"Very well," he replied. "Have you seen my wife?"

"The kitchen, my lord."

What was she doing in the kitchen?

Sitting on the counter, drinking tea, and chatting with the housekeeper, apparently.

"Good morning, Virginia." His annoyance crept into his tone.

"'Morning, Draco," she replied, flashing him a smile. "Would you like some tea? Ethel just made a great pot."

He sighed. "Ginny, Malfoys do not make friends with the staff."

"I don't see why not." Cheerfully she set her cup down. "I think it breeds loyalty."

"I think it breeds familiarity," he said tightly, "which in turn, breeds contempt."

"I think you're just grouchy."

She smiled and he scowled and she smiled harder and then he thought his face would break from the disapproval he was channeling.

Through clenched teeth, he told her to meet him outside in ten minutes.

To be fair, it was a rather nice-looking rowboat if one could ignore the fact that it was Slytherin green with emblems carved on the side.

Ginny cleared her throat. "What is this?"

"It's a boat."

"I can see that it's a boat," she said irritably, "but why?"

"Tradition. Get in."

She heaved a long-suffering sigh and complied. Draco followed suit.

"I'm not going to have to row, am I?" she asked, because she couldn't imagine him doing any sort of physical labor.

"It's called magic, Gin. Maybe you've heard of it?" He rolled his eyes and flicked his wand.

She wasn't sure whether to be pleased that he used that nickname or irritated that he was being sarcastic.

"Nice," she said finally, as the boat began to move.

"Thank you."

The spell made the boat make a weird noise. If she cocked her head a certain way, it almost sounded like quacking.

Draco began listing appropriate conduct for a Malfoy bride: what she was supposed to do, what she was responsible for. Mainly she just concentrated on that quacking noise and imagined super-ducks propelling the boat.

The image actually caused her to giggle.

A crease formed in his forehead. "What?"

"Nothing," she said immediately, coughing down the rest of her giggles.

He gave her a displeased look and continued. "No affairs until after the heir is born. I, out of respect for you, will abide by the same rule."

Ducks forgotten, Ginny sat up sharply.

"What?"

"Of course fidelity is not expected," he explained.

"Do the words committed relationship mean nothing to you?"

"Not particularly." He shrugged. "Malfoys generally are not faithful."

That was about the time that she pushed him out of the boat.

"You are such an ass. Maybe this marriage is only about money and heirs to you, that's fine. Maybe Malfoys don't believe in fidelity, but I didn't marry your ancestors, I married you. And I demand fidelity. Don't tell me you wouldn't be pissed if I started dating Harry again on the side."

Draco bobbed up in down in the water, looking surprised. Whether it was her actions or her words that triggered this surprise was debatable.

"Alright," he said. "I suppose I can agree to that."

Ginny folded her arms and smiled.

He climbed back in the boat and leaned towards her. He took each of her arms and placed them on his shoulders, then kissed her fiercely.

It was probably a distraction tactic. He tended to do that a lot. She wasn't acting the way he wanted, he kissed her. She was leading down a path he didn't want to go, he kissed her. She was saying something he wasn't comfortable with, he kissed her. She knew what he was doing, and it was most unconscionable of him. She was indignant... for a good three seconds.

After that, she didn't care anymore.

He lowered her to the boat, which was vaguely awkward but what he was doing with his hands more than made up for it. He was wet and dripping on her, but this didn't really matter. Even as his mouth traced a path of freckles down her arm, he worked on undressing her.

Well, it would go twice as fast if she reciprocated, so she reached up to unbutton his shirt.

Startled, his elbow jerked and hit the side of the boat. "Shit!" He recoiled.

Recoiled rather too much, really, because the boat flipped over.

Imagine the Arctic. Barenaked. Water vapor from your breath freezing seconds after exhalation. Flesh burning from the sheer extremity of temperature.

The water was about that cold.

Draco did manage to keep the boat from rowing itself away, and got them back in it. But now both of them were cold and shivering and not in much mood for anything.

"Could we skip the rest of the ride and the lecture, and just go back for a hot bath?" Her teeth were chattering.

"Good plan," he said, and the boat reversed directions and sped up quite a bit.

Company? Ginny frowned. She and Draco had been blissfully alone for the past few days. Who would interrupt?

They'd moved upstairs to the master bedroom the night before, as it had a bathroom attached to it. Ginny wandered into the bathroom and checked to see if she was presentable (and she was.)

She wondered where Draco was, but he was probably downstairs with the company already.

Slowly she descended the stairs, carefully placing each foot on each successive step. A blond figure sat in the parlor. A female blond figure, who looked distinctly not happy.

"Hullo," Ginny said cautiously.

If looks could kill, Narcissa would be charged with first-degree murder.

Of course she'd get off, though. She had enough money.

"So," Narcissa said. "You're the girl my son has married."

"That's me," she agreed. "What do I call you? Mother? Narcissa?"

"You call me 'my lady,'" was her frozen reply.

So much for a warm welcome into the family. "Would you like some tea?" she offered.

"Of course," Narcissa sniffed. "I hardly would have come at tea time if I didn't want tea."

"Right." Ginny quietly asked Ethel to prepare tea and some biscuits. "We'll just go wait in the sitting room, then."

Her mother-in-law arranged herself on a sofa, posture ramrod straight and that sneer permanently locked on her face. "At least we won't have to worry about the heir," was her opening remark. "You Weasleys are abominably fertile."

What was she supposed to say to that?

"A Malfoy with freckles." Narcissa shuddered. "How positively unregal. I have no idea what he sees in you."

Ginny fixed a bright, fake smile on her face.

"But of course you're so poor," she sniffed. "Must be some comfort to know that your child will be rich beyond all means."

"Actually, we're not nearly as poor as we used to be," Ginny said mildly. "My siblings have done fairly well for themselves. The twins have their own burgeoning business, Percy is a head of department for the ministry, and the rest of them are also self-sufficient. You might actually call us middle class."

Thankfully Ethel came in with the tea service at that point.

The housekeeper poured the tea for both of them, adding milk and sugar in their preferred amounts. "Good day, my ladies." She exited.

Ginny wished she could go with her.

She took a biscuit and nibbled on the edge while Narcissa glared at her some more.

Narcissa took a dramatic sip of her tea and said, "I only hope you don't bring down his social status."

"I doubt it." She polished off the biscuit.

"It's just that you're so common."

"Your son has plenty of money. His social status is not in jeopardy." Ginny ate another biscuit, and reached for another.

"I really wouldn't eat any more of those if I were you. It's not like your figure is spectacular to begin with."

Ginny put the cookie back and smiled thinly. "Of course, my lady."

This was going to be one painful afternoon.

"I hate your mother," she mumbled into his chest.

"Alright," he replied.

"Alright? You're not even going to ask why?"

"You're entitled to your opinion."

"She's such a bitch."

He thought she might be quiet then.

He was wrong.

"You're not even defending her," she said, outraged. "Don't you love her?"

"Malfoys don't believe in love," he reminded her.

"That's retarded," she said, but then she did shut up and go to sleep.

"I don't want to go," Draco grumbled.

"I drank tea with your mother," she said pointedly, and he had no choice but to acquiesce.

They arrived at the Burrow at two o'clock. Dinner was always served at three for some reason.

Ginny did not attempt to explain her mother's logic.

Fred was the first to spot them. "Not serious, huh?"

"Lovely to see you too." Briefly she stuck out her tongue.

"Which one are you?" Draco asked. He didn't sound particularly friendly, but at least he wasn't using that God, I'm so bored tone.

"George," Fred snapped.

"Fred," she corrected.

"I think I know who I am." He sounded insulted.

"I think you're a pathological liar." She kicked his feet. "George doesn't wear these boots."

Fred was silent, then sighed. He'd been caught fair and square. "Damn, but you're good."

"Mum in the kitchen?"

"Yeah. Percy, too. Making dessert." He scoffed a little at the dessert part.

Ginny tugged Draco's sleeve and led him into the kitchen. Her mother was humming, and Percy's face was buried in a cookbook.

"Afternoon," she said cheerfully.

"Hmm-de-hmm-hmm- 'lo, dear. I was just fixing supper." Molly swung around to grab a bowl.

She froze.

"Ginny," she said dangerously, "there is a Malfoy in my kitchen."

She summoned a weak smile. "Is there?"

"Actually, there's two," Draco interjected.

Molly's eyes narrowed.

"We, um." She took a deep breath and went for it. "gotmarriedlastThursday."

"Oh, my god," said her mother, and promptly passed out.

"She's a bit theatrical," Percy said by way of explanation, stepping over Molly to put his cake in the oven. He raised an eyebrow. "Thought you said it wasn't serious."

"It wasn't." She paused. "Why aren't you freaking out?"

"I freaked out on Thursday. Tim told me."

"Who's Tim?" Draco murmured.

"His assistant. He's very efficient," she whispered back.

"I'm more or less resigned to the idea now," Percy said. "I think you're both insane, but it's not like you're hurting anyone."

Ginny heard the door, and from the chatter it sounded like the terrific trio.

"Hey hey," Ron's voice said, presumably to Fred. "Everyone here?"

"Everyone and more," came Fred's growl.

Hermione and Ron wandered in the kitchen first, followed by Harry.

"What's Malfoy doing here?" Ron said sharply.

"Jesus, Gin," Harry said with a pained look, "tell me you didn't really marry him."

"Marry?" Ron echoed, horrified.

Draco's possessive arm around her shoulder was answer enough.

Ron's fists went up, but Hermione snatched them before they went flying. "Ron," she said, "we need to talk. Now."

Ron nodded slowly and followed her off to wherever they went when they had these "discussions." Generally they weren't discussions at all, it was just Hermione telling him that whatever he was doing was inappropriate.

Percy made an "ahem" noise. "Perhaps you'd like to try some pie... Draco?"

"I like pie," Draco allowed.

The moment Draco had turned, Harry grabbed her arm and hauled her off into the foyer.

"What the hell are you thinking?" he hissed, shoving her up against the wall. "That family is bad news, Ginny. Illegal stuff up the ass. This isn't a game."

"It's my life," she hissed back. "I've made my bed and I'm having no problems sleeping in it. You are no longer part of it."

"Is this revenge, then?"

"My life does not revolve around you. Jesus, Harry, you treated me like crap for years. No matter his motives, he at least had the balls to marry me."

"Gin, I couldn't marry you, not with the kinds of things I have to do- do you understand?"

Primly, she said, "If you wanted it to work, you would have found a way."

"I love you," he said desperately, and kissed her.

How many seconds passed, she wasn't sure, but the smooth voice rent through the air:

"Potter, if you would get your hands off my wife."

Harry thrust his arms to his side and threw a glare back at Draco. "I can't stay here. Not with him here. Tell your mother I'll drop by some other time." He stalked out.

Ginny sighed.

Draco crossed the room and lifted her chin up so that her eyes made contact with his. "Do you love him?"

"I thought you didn't believe in love," she replied, snappish.

He was quick to counter. "I think the issue here is whether you believe in it, not me."

It was silent.

She swallowed, then spoke. "No. I'm not in love with him."

One heartbeat. Two. Three, four.

His lips curled up. "Good."