A Book You Can't Write

Pink Inspiration

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 4
Published: 01/10/2003
Last Updated: 11/02/2005
Status: in_progress

Sometimes, love is a book that you just can't write.

Chapters

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

3. untitled

4. Chapter 3

1. Chapter One

A/N: Hello all! You may be wondering why all my other fics are deleted. The reason is I decided fanfiction was taking over my life. I wasn’t going to write any more fanfics except for some I was already co-writing, but I’ve had this chapter of a cool new story done for about two months and I figured I may as well post it. Well- here it is. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine. J.K Rowling’s. ‘Nuff said.

Summary: To get away from life for a year, Ginny takes a job at an ancient castle- hotel- in France. She didn't expect her job to be so difficult; understanding French, leaving her boyfriend and family, and dealing with snobby co-workers isn't the worst of it all. While working, she meets none other than Draco Malfoy staying at the hotel. But rest assured that he'll do his best to make life hard for her- and, eventually steal her heart too.

Chapter One

A Book You Can't Write

Ginny Weasley sighed as she and Harry shared a tearful dinner in the airport food court. His hand held hers, and his thumbs rubbed her fingernails ever so gently in a soothing manner. Another tear slid down her cheek, and she pulled her hands back from Harry's to wipe at it with her palm. She looked back up at him. "I know this is the last thing our relationship needs right now, Harry. But this'll be a wonderful opportunity for me to advance my experience in a different country. Even if it's just a small job for a hotel."

"I know, Ginny. I'll just miss you is all," Harry said, and smiled weakly.

"I'll miss you too. But I'll write you every day!" She vowed.

"That'll be fine. At least us being apart for a bit will have some advantages. After all, you'll have so much fun!"

Ginny blushed. "I know. Like, all those times I've wished, 'oh if only I could grow up to be a toilet cleaner.' At least it'll be a piece of cake. How hard can it be? Maybe after I've worked a bit, I'll come back to you, or you'll come move to France with me and we'll both be able to soar in our jobs. And we'll be happy," she said with a dreamy smile.

Harry laughed, and stroked her cheek affectionately. "We'll see, love. We'll see."

"Will you walk me to the plane, Harry? It does leave in an hour and I still need to go through Customs."

"Of course. Let's go," Harry said as he stood up and plucked Ginny's bags up off the floor. They walked down the hallway between the bookstore and the food court, and arrived at the gates. Ginny took her bags from Harry, and turned around to give him a peck on the lips.

"Goodbye, Harry."

"That's all I get? A peck? What are you, a hen?" He mocked.

"That's right. All you get for now." Seeing his pleading look, she rolled her eyes. "Don't tempt me!" She laughed heartily before rushing through the gates after her bags had been weighed and tagged. She looked back behind her, but instantly regretted it.

Harry stood there alone; hands tucked into the pockets of his black trench coat, and a miserable expression on his face.

She blew him a kiss for good luck.

*

Ginny sat in a window seat, and looked interestedly out at the view. Europe was indeed quite lovely, but she'd only seen England and Belgium. Yes, Ginny had always lived a sheltered life, but that's why she was so pleased to be going to France.

As a girl, she'd always been good at household chores. One could only guess why, but with six older brothers, there'd always been plenty to clean up; and keep her in the house away from- boys. (Gasp) Dare she mention the B word? Well, no, she dare not, but while all was well and she was far, far away from any familiar male species, she allowed herself the small freedom.

Another significant element that had gained Ginny some advantage, and, to her favour, some attention, was Muggle Studies. Yes, she had taken many years of Muggle Studies at Hogwarts, even in her older years when such a class was not mandatory. Why? So that she could have opportunities like this. The Wizarding company had hired her most likely because of that sole reason, as she would be working with Wizards and Witches, but also making ties when necessary with Muggles. And goodness, it would be an embarrassment if she didn't even know the different between a doorbell and a church bell.

So for that purpose and the ever-lasting bonus of knowing how to clean toilets, sinks and kitchen counters alike, Ginny Weasley had been hired at Château de Vault Lugny: A French hotel built by a wealthy Wizard Healer some time in the sixteenth century, with five stars accommodations and situated in the heart of a grand forest. Ginny felt extremely privileged to be hired there. Why, she even got her own suite within its rustic walls! Those French could certainly be kind.

She had decided to take a 'gap year'- a restful, peaceful break for a year between Hogwarts and a career or University. Knowing the Weasleys' financial situation, we all know of course that this couldn't go by without some compensation. And that’s where the hotel job came in. She could work a bit and relax, make enough money to do as she pleased, and return in a year or so to marry Harry.

Oh, the gods were kind to her! 17 year old Ginny Weasley already had a wonderful job in a romantic country, at a five star hotel, and she couldn't be happier! Er. . .

Okay. Maybe she could. So what did Ginny do in this hotel? It was a bit of a lame job. . .

Ginny was a maid.

Yep. But how hard could that job be? Wash a few floors, clean up a few messes; no different than her time at home was, really. Except there was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow: she got paid instead of exploited. It would all go well.

But Ginny hoped against hope that she wouldn't have to wear those ugly frilly maid costumes. It was very unlikely, of course. Only a few hotels required that of their employees. Right?

Simple job. Lots of money. Rest and relaxation. What more could a girl ask for?

Easy-peasy.

"All passengers remain seated until the seatbelt sign is turned off. Thank-you for a pleasant flight, and we hope to see you on our airlines in the near future. This is your captain, Jane Magentar, wishing you a very enjoyable journey." The same dialogue was repeated in French, and soon after Ginny stepped off the plane, exchanging a smile with a kindly man who had served her well as a flight attendant.

"Thank-you. Enjoy your day," he told her automatically. She nodded, and stepped out of the plane into the corridor connecting to the airport. It was chilly. Ginny wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her bare shoulders.

When all the passengers had arrived into the admission area, she scanned the area frantically for a bathroom.

Coutumes, service personelle, contrôle de baggage, salles de bains. . .

Aha! Salles de bains, that was the toilets. She gathered that important information from a sign clearly showing the 'Women', 'Men, and 'Handicapped' symbols. She rushed through the doors and pushed open a cubicle door. Flipping open her yellow tote bag, she pulled out a crumpled letter. Smoothing it out, she muttered the instructions to herself.

"Enter the bathroom. Do NOT go through the admission line. You do not have a proper passport or Visa for France, as you know. (Muggle identification for transportation.) Please enter a private toilet stall and Apparate to the Château de Vault Lugny's lobby and check-in center. I look forward to seeing you.

- Jean-Pierre Xavier Partousse

Ginny smiled softly at the letter instructions, and took out her wand. A small wave and a charm

left only a small trail of sparkly red dust just as she disappeared.

*

Ginny walked nervously down the dark corridor. Where was she? The walls were made of stone, and she could hear water dripping slowly, echoing off the walls. There was probably a leak somewhere, and with one glance around this place, she could certainly fathom a guess as to why.

It was dark, damp and kind of creepy. Her footsteps echoed around, even though her shoes were soft-soled and rarely made more than a shuffle against any surface. But her shoes' shuffles just seemed to add more to the effect.

Drip. . . . . . . .shuffle shuffle shuffle. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . drip drip! Shuffle-shuffle-shuffle-shuffle. . . . . . .DRIP!

It was driving her insane. But she was way past insanity at this point; she was terrified. She was in a completely foreign country, with a foreign language, in Merlin-knows-where where they did who-knows-what.

"H-hello?" Her feeble voice echoed again tremendously throughout the place, and her wand hand holding the 'lumos' was shaking horrendously. She tried again: "Hello? I-is anyone th-there?" A quick scan of the walls, floors and long ago burnt-out candleholders told her no one was. "Can someone h-help -"

"Qu'est-ce que vous faites ici, Mademoiselle?" A sharp voice asked, startling her. Ginny spun quickly around to find an elderly man in denim overalls and a salmon coloured button-up shirt. From her wand light she could see his clothing was dirty, his hair was in disarray, and a few rags with various yellow, brown and red stains were hanging from his belt. He was holding a mop.

"Erm. . .I don't speak French," she explained in hopes that he understood her. He raised a thick grey eyebrow at her. "I-I'm lost. I've been hired here."

" 'ired? 'ost? Voyons, venez avec moi, Mademoiselle." Ginny had no clue what he had just said, but figured he wanted her to follow him, as he had waved her on. She meekly trailed his footsteps up the stairs. They passed several odd shaped metal things, which, Ginny realized after a few moments in horror, were jail cells. They looked old and rusted, the sort that was used back in the old days.

Which, she reminded herself, they probably were.

She and the man, who looked to be a janitor or mechanic of some sort in the clearer sunshine of the main level, reached the lobby. He gave her a nod before scurrying off back downstairs before she could say 'merci’. Ginny hauled her bag higher up on her shoulder, and gripped her suitcase firmly. Her purse was slung over her other shoulder, digging cuts in her back that would no doubt lead to bruises overnight.

Ginny looked around the room. As would be expected of any 16th century castle, the walls were made of stone, and so were the floors. However, the room was still comfortably warm despite the material it was constructed of. The hotel was obviously deserted for the night, and the check-in desks were empty. There hung very elegant- and no doubt expensive- crystal chandeliers hanging about every 20 meters or so. Lower on down the wall, torches like those of Hogwarts stood proudly yielding their flame. Unlike the empty, long since abandoned torches in the basement, every single one was ablaze with a different colour flame: light pink, apple green, frosty blue and sunny, unnaturally pale yellow. It made the room have an air of fantasy; the fires’ shadows flickering across the room, as if they were faeries.

Several dark cherry wood pieces of furniture lay randomly adorning the room. They all had lovely rich green and red pillows tucked into the corners and over the rough, hard surfaces. It would seem that this colour combination would make the room appear too Christmas-like, but that wasn’t the case. The complimentary colours gave the lobby an air of- elegance and fairytale-esque, really.

She looked around. No one was in the lobby, except a dark-skinned African man in a navy suit who was standing in the middle of the large room on the stone and carpeted floor, looking impatient. The Weasley dragged her suitcase across the floor and arrived behind him. The man turned around, and smiled tiredly.

"I suppose you are Miz Veasley?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry I'm late, sir." He nodded, and held out his hand. Ginny shook it.

"I am zee Manager of dis 'otel. My name iz Jean-Pierre Xavier Partousse, but you may call me JP if you vish. I'll show you your svuite to relieve you of your 'eavy baggage."

"Thank-you," Ginny said as they walked to a set of stairs. He pressed a button labeled ‘2’, and the staircase spun around, disconnecting, then re-connecting with a higher floor. They walked up a few steps to the hallway. JP led her to the first door in the hallway. He took out an old-fashioned key on a metal ring, and the door clicked open. He turned back to her.

"Take 'dis. Zee long bronze colour key iz to your personelle voom. The vest are all labeled 'vor zee various cleaning supply rooms, and the short gold key iz magicked to vork vor all the rooms." He handed the ring of old keys to her, and she stuffed them in her pocket. They walked in the room, and Ginny sighed.

The suite was very pretty. There was an oak four-poster bed with several silk pillows atop it. An antique green velvet couch sat in a corner beside a floor lamp, and a clean oak desk and chair sat not far from it. There was a door in the opposite corner to the toilet. "It's lovely!" She told him. He nodded again, and pointed to the only modern looking thing in the room. Ginny was surprised it didn't stick out like a sore thumb in contrast to the rest of the antique furniture.

It was a bulletin board with a schedule and list of rooms to clean. Beside each was a small box that, according to JP's earlier letter, would change and flash different colours depending on if the person either ordered room service that day, or if there was a change in the schedule of the cleaning of that room.

“You are to ‘ave dined and prepared yourzelve vor vork by six-dirtay. As you see on your schedule, all the vooms you are azzigned are on zee top five leveelz. You are ovvicially dismissed at the time your last guest’s voom is cleaned."

"Yes, sir."

"Any probleemz you may 'ave, are to be reported to me. Customer satisfaction is our first priority. Respect iz expected."

"I understand, sir."

"Well, then. . .zee local time iz one 'o clock. Bonne nuit, az vee French say." Ginny smiled and bid him goodnight as well, before getting out her suitcase and dressing herself in her favourite nightgown.

Although it hadn't been much of a plane ride, only a few hours at the least, Ginny was still exhausted. She regretted having promised Harry she'd write him a letter saying she had arrived safely. Sighing, Ginny pulled out parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill. She dipped the quill in, and wrote a short letter:

Dearest Harry,

As expected, I've arrived at Avallon, France safely. There was a bit of confusion when I ended up in the dungeon of the Castle (they had a DUNGEON? Why did no one warn me of this??), and this was a bit frightening at first, but then a janitor who spoke very little English was in there too, and after a few minutes, he found me and fortunately led me upstairs to the lobby. My boss, and the manager of the hotel, seems nice enough. I haven't met any of the other employees yet.

Well, it's one in the morning here, and I honestly need some sleep before my first day tomorrow. Wish me luck!

Love and hugs,

Ginny Weasley

She folded up the letter, and since she didn't have an owl, decided to mail it tomorrow before work started. Ginny climbed into bed, and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

*

"Quick!" Ginny prompted herself, as she dried off after her shower, and blow-dried her hair.

Must be a record. Quickest woman to ever blow-dry such thick hair with a wand in thirty seconds, she mused.

She practically killed herself with her lipstick tube, and almost poked her eye out with a mascara wand, while looking in the closet for her clothing. Ginny realized with horror that instead, beside her skirts and dresses, were about five maid outfits. They were light, pale green, and were dolled up with white lace on the ends of the short sleeves and hem of the dress. A short fitted robe of the same pale green was to be put over the outfit.

Feeling her face turn bright pink at the prospect of her simple outfit screaming MAID to anyone who dared look past their own noses, she pulled on the dress roughly. After dressing, Ginny grabbed the letter for Harry from her desk, and ran out of the room.

Once the redhead arrived to the main level, she searched the room for a place to rent owls. It wasn't hard to spot, despite the fact that the sign advertising owls for rent was unsurprisingly in French. She reached the place and paid the woman ten sickles for a brown barn owl to deliver her letter to England.

When she stepped out of the rental place, Ginny walked a little ways before JP came towards her. He patted her on the shoulder, and began to speak very quickly.

"AlloMizVeasleyveeneedtohavevoom-"

"What? Slow down, please sir," she begged.

"Ah, oui, oui bien sur! I'm very sorry Miz Veasley, I am just very busy. I vould like you to go to voom three hundred as soon as you finish zee oder vooms. A young man haz just arrived and the voom needs to be prepared very quickly."

"Yes, sir. I'll just go get my cleaning sup-"

JP had already jogged off to the other side of the lobby to speak to a young woman also in a maid outfit. Ginny shrugged and went to get her supplies.

*

"Oh, sorry there Missus. You must be the new maid. Well, it's a hard job, so suck it up and stop crying. You didn't expect it to be all rainbows and buttercups, did you? Now- get out of my way, I've got a long line of customers waiting to be checked in." Ginny was shoved out of the way by one of the desk clerks, who she had had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting just as she exited the cleaning supply room.

Marcella Ritz. That was her name, and apparently she had been working here for three years, and was from Durmstrang.

Ginny hated her already.

On top of being shoved out of the way by two other co-workers previously, Ginny now flashed a large white stain of "MAGIC AWAY!" on her robe pocket, a brown streak of "RUST BE GONE" over her left breast, and many sharp pains in both her hips from having the cleaning cart jabbed into her sides by slamming doors.

She was about ready to die; if not from the pain and exhaustion, then from the humiliation. It seemed that in every room where she dared to venture, she spilled something, hurt someone, or fell flat on her face.

Charming.

Last room. . .Ginny thought with relief as she wiped at the sweat on her brow. Room three hundred. She pulled out the ring of old keys, and opened the door.

She saw no one inside, and seemed to be too distracted, as she attempted to close the door- on her foot.

Ow?

"Argh!" Ginny moaned in frustration and kicked the door back into place. As one can imagine, this helped the situation no further, and instead resulted in a throbbing foot. She angrily pushed the cart through the narrow hallway leading into the room, and ended up rolling it over the same foot.

Adding physical hurt to frustration and stress, Ginny silently fumed as she glanced around the room.

She had thought her room was great. There was only one word to describe this one: grand. Ginny had seen pictures of these kinds of rooms in princess storybooks. A huge king-sized canopy four-poster stood proudly at one end of the room, pushed up against a wall. The curtains decorating it were made of East Indian silk, and the carpet matched this style as well. It was rich red, with golden stitches embroidered all around the border. There was also a floor lamp, a desk and two aged, but not decreasing in elegance, couches facing one another. A mirror hung opposite, and a bookshelf stood beside it.

Ginny was brought back to reality by her throbbing foot. "Merlin, I hate it here. . ."she muttered to herself and took out a duster and began sweeping the bookshelf with angry strokes. "I may as well be at Malfoy Manor, helping the House Elves."

"Well perhaps, but I'm sure they pay better here." Ginny dropped her duster with a start, and spun around to face none other than the Draco Malfoy himself.

*

A/N: How was it? Review and tell me what you think!

I also need beta-readers. If interested, email me at ruby_sky@mindless.com. Thanks!

2. Chapter Two

A/N: Wow. It’s been such a ridiculously long time since I’ve updated, that I’m still trying to figure out if it’s even worth writing anymore. This is a short chapter, I warn you, mainly because it was a way for me to get out of this rut I’ve been in for ABYCW. If you still want me to continue, I’ll update the next chapter very soon.

Disclaimer: It’s Rowling’s, okay?

Chapter Two

Ginny was panting, and leaning against the bathroom door. Not just a bathroom door-

Draco Malfoy’s bathroom door.

As soon as she’d seen him, Ginny had squealed like a mouse, made a mad dash for his loo, and locked the door behind her. She looked around at her surroundings. The bathroom was smaller than she’d expected, but was much larger than hers, and grander by many standards. The wall was painted a dark maroon colour, and was based around an East Indian theme. There were several wallpaper paintings of various Gods and Goddesses all of whom were holding wands and casting spells at each other. The shower was made of a gold material, as were several of the hooks and knobs around the room. The shower curtain was dark green. On the counter there were several male beauty products strewn about.

Ginny carefully placed all of them in the medicine cabinet above and furiously began scrubbing the sink. “Malfoy, of all people, in France. France! Of all places. . . France! Not that I wouldn’t expect him in a hotel such as this,” Ginny muttered to herself as she wrung out the rag and cast a drying charm on it.

Just as Ginny was about to cast a sparkling charm on the tap, there was a knock at the door. “Hey, Weasley, going to be done in my bathroom any time soon?” Ginny huffed and decided not to respond as she tapped the toilet with her wand. The toilet began to self-clean.

Satisfied, she grabbed the rag, stuffed it in her pocket and opened the door, promptly being knocked over by Draco Malfoy. He appeared to have been leaning on the door, ear against the wood. In any case, it didn’t quite matter what he had been doing.

What did matter, was that Ginny was on the cold marble floor with her arch-nemesis of, well, always, lying on top of her. Much contrary to several stereotypical situations involving her and Malfoy lying on top of each other, she certainly did not feel “electricity” run through her veins.

“Weasley, get off of me!”

Ginny tried to push part of his weight off of her stomach. “Excuse- me- Malfoy-“ she breathed out, “but- you- are- the one- on- top- OF ME!”

Malfoy leaped off of her, and brushed himself off, without offering a hand to Ginny. She got to her feet and brushed herself off as well. Deciding not to stay in his presence any longer, she pushed past Malfoy and went to fetch her cart.

Ginny was very relieved to notice that the room had previously been cleaned after the last guest had departed, and there was nothing to do except for a bit of dusting. Deciding to risk it, she left the dusting for another day, and pushed the cart out of the door.

*

The youngest Weasley had just changed out of her work clothes for the day, and after a relaxing bath, decided to make a trip downstairs. Muggle music was playing in the lobby once Ginny arrived from her journey down the (literally) spiraling stairs.

She slowly danced a few steps to the music with a smile and sang to herself: “Michelle, my belle, these are words that go together well. I want you, I want you, I want you, I think you know by now. . ” Laughing, she made her way over to a reception desk where a young man was getting ready to finish up his shift. He had an amused smile on his face, as she approached him.

“Hi, I’m Ginny,” she said as she offered her his hand. He shook it and nodded.

“The new maid, right?”

“That’s right. I just got here late last night.” The man nodded again.

“I’m Joseph. You can call me Joey.”

“Cool.” There was a pause and slight shuffle as Joey put away his papers and put on his coat. “Hey, listen, I’m kind of new to this whole France thing. Do you know of any nearby places where I could get some food?”

“There’s a neat coffee place down the road, we could grab a bite to eat there. How’s that?”

“Sounds good. I haven’t eaten since this morning,” said Ginny as they headed to the doors. “Not to mention that I haven’t seen much of France yet.” Joey put on his old-fashioned nineteenth-century hat and tipped it as another reception clerk walked towards them.

She seemed to be in quite a rush, and in her hurry, bumped into Ginny. Ginny’s purse fell on the floor, as well as all its contents. The girl stopped abruptly and looked down her nose at the redhead. “Don’t you think you should be a little more careful, hm? We don’t want employees incapable of walking to roam the lobbies of potential customers.” And with that, she walked away, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

Ginny and Joey bent down to pick the contents up off the floor. Joey placed a final lipstick tube back into the purse, before straightening up. “She was awfully rude,” remarked Ginny as they walked outside. Joey shrugged, as though he couldn’t care less, and began to point out various stores. “That’s a grocery store. You’ll need to know what’s reasonably well-priced. . . we employees who live in the Château have Wizard powered refrigerators, as you may have noticed.” Ginny hadn’t but was happy to learn that she didn’t have to buy food in the downstairs café every day.

“Is that place any good?” She asked and pointed at a nearby restaurant.

“Yes, in fact. That’s where we’re going.” They walked up to the small place with a cute white and pink sign above it. La Vie en Rose, it read.

“How poetic,” Ginny commented as he held the door open for her and she slipped in. Joey nodded.

At that moment, a waitress in a navy blue outfit and a tight-fitting apron approached them. “Salut. Pour vous deux?” she asked.

“Oui, merci,” said Joey as they were led to a booth and sat down. Once they’d both made themselves comfortable, Joey initiated conversation. “So do you know any French?”

Ginny blushed ever so slightly at the question. “No. I didn’t have time to learn before I came.”

“Hmm, you may want to work on that a bit. Many of our customers speak French, and it’s hard to get around with out it. Actually. . .” He said, digging into his briefcase, and returning with a small yellow book. “I have a foreigner’s manual. You can borrow it if you want.”

“Oh,” said Ginny, taking the book gratefully. “Thank-you, very much.”

“No problem.”

Dinner passed by quite pleasantly, and Ginny was grateful for the chance to learn more about France, and most of all, more about Joseph. He really was a nice guy, and although he was no Harry replacement, at least he could be a friend.

When they had both finished dinner and each had retired to their respective rooms, Ginny sat down at her desk and opened the letter that a barn owl had dropped off from Harry while she was gone. It read:

Dear Ginny,

I’m glad the trip from London to Avalon went well. Keep me posted on your daily activities. I do miss you already, you know, even though it’s only been a few days. Right now I’m still plain old Harry. Still working at that bookstore in Diagon Alley, and still training for Quidditch in my spare time. Speaking of Quidditch, I’ve got to go meet your brothers Ron, Fred and George for a practice.

Your mum sends her love, and so do I!

-Harry

Ginny folded the letter and got into her pajamas. Climbing into the huge bed (it did take a stepping stool to get into the large four-poster), she pulled the covers over herself and blew out the candle.

*

3. untitled

This is just a note, sorry. Are any of you still interested in reading this fic? I had planned out the whole plot (which is very D/G satisfying, I assure you) and I'm half done the third chapter… There will be 10 in all with maybe an Epilogue. The characters will not be OOC.

Well?

-PI

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4. Chapter 3

A/N: Oh my goodness, it sure has been a while. As you've probably noticed, I've changed the summary of the story. Apologies in advance if this has confused you. Please review.

Disclaimer: Rowling's.

Chapter Three

It was ridiculous really, how much work a maid had to do in one day, and how little credit she received for it, thought Ginny as she pushed her cart into the cleaning supplies room at the end of the day. She had started to learn a little more French, but it didn't seem quite necessary when the only kind of words that the customers uttered were either swears or commands. Obviously the only response to either was a polite (yet tart), `oui, Madame'.

In any case, it had been a week since she'd arrived in France, and Ginny was beginning to feel the effects of homesickness. Although outside of working hours she spent most of her time immersed in the French manual Joey had given her, it didn't make up for the numbing ache she felt whenever she thought of her family- and Harry especially.

---

“Gin.” Harry took her glass and set it on the table. “Ginny.”

Ginny snapped out of her thoughts and looked up at him. “I'm fine, just let me finish the glass.”

“Gin,” he said more firmly.

“What?” she exclaimed and pulled the glass towards her. Harry shook his head.

“I know you're not feeling the greatest, but I don't want you to over-consume and regret it in the morning.”

Ginny fixed him with her most serious look. “Harry, it's orange juice.”

----

“Snap out of it, girl,” Ginny scolded herself as she went back to her room, changed into a skirt and blouse and headed downstairs to the café. “I'll have a frappa-jappa chocolate surprise,” she told the lady at the counter and went to sit at a table with her drink. She had just pulled out the manual and a pen when an owl swooped over her head and dropped a thin envelope into Ginny's hand.

Eagerly, she opened it:

Dear Mademoiselle Weasley:

I am sorry Mr. Xavier was unable to deliver this to you in person, but he is currently at a press conference in Mexico. Unfortunately, we're running short of maintenance staff, and wondered if you would be willing to work mornings in the lobby and afternoons as a hotel maid. This would only require you to maintain the cleanliness of the second half of the rooms you habitually clean. Of course, your salary will see improvements within reason, to account for the work. Assuming you accept this business proposition, you will report to the lobby tomorrow morning.

Regards,

Alex Darot, Business Secretary

- - -

Draco was taking a leisurely stroll outside after he had finished making a few purchases. Smirking to himself, he pulled his new sunglasses out of their case and put them on. He stole a glance over his left shoulder and then his right, checking for any casual bystanders. Seeing no one, he stealthily crept along the street, looking for a window. When he found a particularly reflective one (it was hard to believe it wasn't a mirror, really), he stopped and took a deep breath.

“Looking hot, Malfoy,” he muttered to himself, as he strode back and forth in front of the window, observing himself. Finding a satisfactory position, he stood up tall and concentrated on his reflection.

Left eyebrow raised? Not bad. Right eyebrow? That was better. What if he smiled? Teeth. . . not bad, not bad. No teeth? Ah, that worked as well, he observed. Smirk? Of course, why had he even questioned that one? He pushed his hair back and adjusted the new leather jacket that hung casually over his shoulders. Draco looked over both shoulders again before turning back to the mirror to continue.

- - -

Ginny had just finished writing a note to her co-worker at the lobby when she looked up and saw a slender male figure in a leather jacket making faces at the window. Casually, she moved over and realized that they were admiring themselves and experimenting with eyebrows. What a nut, she thought and was just about to pick up the muggle telephone the hotel kept in use when she saw the man in the window smirk.

Malfoy, she thought with amusement and burst out in laughter right as the phone rang. Stifling giggles, she grinned and picked up the phone.

“Hello, I was wondering if you could connect me to Ginny Weasley.”

“Speaking,” she said absently as she doodled on a piece of paper.

“Ginny? Is that you?”

Raising her eyebrow she asked, “who wants to know?” Laughter erupted from the other line.

“Gin, it's me, Harry!”

Ginny almost melted onto the floor, but instead settled on squealing in excitement. “Harry!”

- - -

Draco walked inside the lobby, sunglasses and leather jacket in tact, just in time to hear a familiar voice shriek “Harry!” He flipped his shades onto the top of his head and walked to the reception desk. Weasley. Well, well, well, this might work well after all.

Infamous smirk in place, Draco leaned on the desk in front of her and tapped his fingers on the desk. “Excuse me,” he said in his most obnoxious voice.

Ginny glanced at Draco and decided to ignore him. “Ohh, I know sweetie, I dream about you every night too,” Ginny cooed purposefully. “My little chocolate sweetcakes honey bunny lover-“

Malfoy gulped and walked off in disgust to talk to another receptionist, and Ginny smiled. “Gin? What're you saying?” Harry asked in bewilderment.

“Sorry love, had to get rid of… a customer.” She gulped. “Bloody customers… um, what were you saying, Harry dear?”

- - -

Dear Mother, Draco wrote. Everything is fine. The hotel is up to Malfoy standards, no worries there. I've done a spot of shopping, gotten myself some brilliant bonuses. Meanwhile, I haven't spoken to anyone of significance that I recognize from home, except for… Draco paused and scribbled over the last part of the sentence. Not much is new here, I'm just giving myself a tad bit of rest and fun before I get into the actual business I came here for. Hope all is well.

Your Son,

Draco

Draco sealed the envelope and ventured downstairs to mail it. Walking up to the desk, he pushed his letter forward. The lobbyist looked at him strangely. “Owl post,” Draco said.

The lady looked at him with a fixed solemn expression. “The owlery is down the hall, sir.”

Draco scowled. “I'm aware of that. It smells like something I'd rather not describe. Now,” he said, taking a few coins out of his pocket and sliding them on the desk towards the lobbyist. “I suppose you wouldn't mind mailing it for me.”

The woman looked at the coins. “We don't accept bribes,” she said stubbornly. “Now, if you would kindly take your money and letter back, the owlery is just down the-“

Draco leaned forward menacingly. “Do you know,” he said calmly, “who I am?” She shook her head. “I am,” he said, annunciating every word, “Dra-co Mal-foy.” The lobbyist didn't budge. “Are you unfamiliar with the Malfoy name?”

“No sir.”

“Well then,” he said cheekily, leaning forward even more, “you would be most kind to consider how I could refresh your memory of our prestige, if you fail to comply in regards to my request.”

“Is that a threat?” The lady's hand was on her wand.

“Of course not,” he said with a smirk. “I would just expect that you would show a bit more respect towards such a valued customer.” The lobbyist reluctantly took the money and envelope.

“Yes sir.”

“Lovely!” he exclaimed, dusting off his jacket and turning around. “Oh,” he said, turning to face the lobbyist once more. “I was hoping there was an update on my request for extra room service?”

The woman looked down at her papers and shuffled them for a few seconds before looking back up. “Yes, Mr. Malfoy. The maid services have been informed.”

“Excellent!” said Draco cheerily. “And?”

“And,” she said, making a mark in her book, “Miss Weasley should be providing her services at about… oh err…” She looked at the clock. “Right now, I suppose.”

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