The Trial ; D.M

31

26th April 2003

The turn of noon approaches, and the sun peaks out behind the clouds, casting light beams to splatter throughout the living room. Geneva has her head resting over Draco's lap, who is running his fingers through her hair, therapeutically.

In the quiet moments of this late morning, whilst both are bare skinned and free, Geneva begins to feel shivery in the draughty climate of the Manor. She sits up, pulling herself and Draco out of their sleepy state, and smiles to herself when she notices his eyes indulging in the sight of her. She goes to stand up and pull her robe back on, but his arms loop around her waist in attempt to pull her back closely to him.

"Don't move. We're perfect this way," he groans, smearing a kiss on her bare shoulder. His lips move to her neck, sucking sharply, gently, and suddenly her breath shatters again.

"Can't stay here all day," she smirks, distracting herself from how much she burns by the small notion.

"Yes we can, Riddle."

Geneva cups his jaw into her hands, ceasing him from kissing her skin any further. She plants a small peck on his lips before jumping up from his lap, abruptly so he can't stop her, and retrieves her gown that was discarded to the floor.

He groans forcefully and slumps onto his side, burying his face into the cushions.

"You wound me," he sighs, dramatically, clutching at his chest.

"Why? Because I won't fuck you for the third time this morning?" she chuckles, clawing and ripping her fingers through her tangled hair in attempt to salvage it.

"Third times a charm," he shrugs his shoulders and watches her carefully as one might view a piece of art. Desperately in awe. Desperately pained for more than simply observing.

"I want to take you somewhere today. So go and get ready. Meet me down here in half an hour," she beams, eyeing him up and down. "Dressed." She scurries out of the living room, leaving him disappointed.

"Where exactly?" booms his voice through the corridor.

"Don't be late!" she yells back, ignoring his question.

As Geneva makes her way up the grand staircase to the second floor, she's forced to a halt by the abrupt apparition of Bigsby, appearing rather nervous.

"Bloody hell, Bigsby!"

"Sorry, Mistress. Bigsby did not mean to frighten his Mistress. Bigsby needs his Mistress to hear a message from his Master."

"Go on."

She waits, sceptical as to why Theodore has sent Bigsby to deliver a message and not just a simple owl post.

"Master is saying he is not being at home from his work tonight. He is saying Mistress should not be waiting for him to have dinner."

"Okay. Any idea why?" she asks, tone clipped.

The house elf suddenly appears panicky. "Bigsby is not knowing this."

"No, that's fine. Thanks, Bigsby."

Bigsby doesn't disapparate, hovering apprehensively. Geneva continues walking up the stairs, but the house elf carries on speaking.

"Master is also telling Mistress that he invited Miss Parkinson and Mr Zabini for dinner next week."

"Really?" Geneva almost gasps, sucking it back immediately.

The house elf just stares at her, appearing rather awkward and a little bit concerned.