Sub Rosa

Sub Rosa

This had been a supremely bad idea.

He knew it as sure as he knew that his name was Draco Malfoy. He turned to give his dark-haired companion a murderous look, but his friend simply batted innocent eyes at him. He snorted in disgust, and turned back to stare at the woman he hadn't been able to ignore all night.

After the death of his father three years ago, Draco had all but become a recluse - not necessarily because of his father's demise, but because he was nervous about how he'd be received in Wizarding society now. People had feared him - worshipped him, even - because they'd known who his father was, and the sort of power Lucius had held. Now that his father was gone, would they revile him?

His concerns were all but forgotten now, though, standing in the middle of a swarm of people who wanted to know how he'd been for the last few years. As if they really want to know, he thought resentfully. More likely that they want to know where my money has been for the last three years.

When his oldest friend had called him and practically begged him to go to a party with him, he had relented, hoping that an evening out would do him some good. Obviously he'd been sorely mistaken, he thought, as he stared at the copper-haired witch.

“See anything interesting, mate?” Blaise's voice was full of amusement, and it pissed Draco off to no end.

“Did you know that she was going to be here?” he inquired, frowning.

“I knew that she'd been invited,” Blaise admitted, shrugging. Draco turned his back to the floor where the redhead was currently dancing with some unknown man. “Where are you going? Surely you aren't leaving yet?”

“I assure you, I am,” Draco snarled, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “It does not behoove a Malfoy to be seen at the same functions as a Weasley - I don't want the general public to think that we move in the same social circles.”

“You are the biggest snob that I've ever met,” Blaise commented, his voice a mixture of awe and disgust. Draco gave him a shallow bow.

“And on that note, I'll take my leave of you.” He turned and had gotten approximately one and a half steps away before he heard Blaise bite out an oath. Later he would wonder why he'd done it; why had he turned around, instead of running for his life?

“Blaise!” Her voice was as sweet as honey, though Draco imagined that he could hear the note of poison it held for both him and his friend. “How have you been?”

“Ginny,” Blaise said politely. He took her proffered hand and turned it over, pressing a very formal kiss to the back of it. “I've been well - and yourself?”

“Fair,” she said, smiling. Draco studied her, waiting for her to speak to him. She'd barely changed in the two years that he'd been out of Hogwarts - she was still too skinny, her hair was still too red, and her eyes were still too open and warm for his tastes. He preferred cold women; women who, when they looked at him, didn't make him feel as though they could see inside of him. “Life has been decent to me. I hear that you're working in the Magical Law Enforcement department of the Ministry now.”

“Yes, actually,” Blaise said, sounding pleased. Draco rolled his eyes and groaned inwardly. That was one sure way to get Blaise talking - bring up work. For the most part, Draco avoided work. He was loath to go to some office or such when he could conduct any business from the comfort of his own home. “And what is it that you're doing these days?”

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat slightly. Draco's interest was piqued. It wasn't often that he'd seen the youngest Weasley look embarrassed or out of sorts, and at the moment she looked both. “I doubt that you'd find it interesting, but I'm working as an Arithmancer.”

“Really?” Despite himself, Blaise was impressed. Although he would sooner die than admit it, so was Draco. He'd never figured her for someone who would hold much interest in the subject, let alone engage in the profession, and besides that, Arithmancy had been Draco's favourite subject in school.

“I told you it was boring.” Her cheeks flushed pink, and Draco noted with detached interest that when she blushed, her neck became splotchy. Blaise grinned and shook his head.

“It's not boring. If you wouldn't mind, sometime I'd like to sit down with you and you can show me exactly what it is that you do.” Draco turned surprised eyes to his best friend, and watched as Ginny's expression lit up.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” Blaise pulled his business card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “My home and work addresses are both listed there. Perhaps we could get together sometime this week for lunch.”

“I'd like that,” she said softly, nodding.

“I'll send you an owl,” Blaise said. “I'm sorry to have to cut this so short, but I'm afraid I have to leave now. I really enjoyed running into you again, Ginny Weasley.”

“It was good to see you, too,” she breathed, smiling. “Goodnight.” Draco watched in utter disbelief as she turned and walked away from them without so much as glancing in his general direction.

“Do my ears deceive me, or did you just ask Ginny Weasley on a date?”

Blaise grinned. “Your ears do not deceive you, my friend. I did indeed ask her out.” The friends turned and headed out of the building.

“Why? Why her, of all the women in there? There were plenty of well-to-do witches in there that would have accepted a date offer from you in a heartbeat.”

“Sometimes it's got nothing to do with being rich,” Blaise replied, pulling his cloak tighter about him. It was starting to snow, and their breath escaped in little white puffs of smoke.

“What?” Draco glared at him. “Look, Zabini, I know you've never placed much stock in looking before you leap, but-“

Blaise held up a gloved hand to silence him. “The simple truth is that I've always sort of had a thing for her,” he admitted, his hand dropping to his side. “I've always thought that she was one of the most down-to-earth girls I'd ever met.”

“Homely, you mean,” Draco corrected rudely. Blaise shot a glare at him.

“She's got a prettiness about her,” Blaise said, glancing up and down the empty street. “And she's got half a brain, which is more than I can say about the women you keep company with.”

“I don't like my women to be smart,” Draco said, grinning malevolently. “Smart women are difficult to control.”

“How can you share a bed with someone that you can't share an intelligent conversation with?”

“If I wanted intelligent conversation, Merlin knows that I wouldn't go to a woman to get it.”

“Come on, Draco,” Blaise said, rolling his eyes. They were strolling leisurely down the darkened street, both too fatigued to bother with apparating. They were very nearly at Blaise's home anyway, and Draco supposed that it would be easier just to floo home from there. “I know you're a cold bastard, but isn't that going a bit too far, even for you?”

“I've never been able to have an intelligent conversation with any woman I've ever met,” Draco stated flatly. Blaise stifled a snigger.

“Yes, but look who you're using as a basis for comparison - Pansy Parkinson,” he said, ticking his fingers. “Millicent Bulstrode, Tracy Davis. I think you may feel that way because of the company you choose to keep.”

Draco winced involuntarily. “As a rule, women are too emotional and not intellectual enough.”

“What about Hermione Granger?”

“Zabini, if you ever utter that name in my presence again, I'll-“

“She's intelligent, and she isn't overly emotional. She bested you in school many a time. Is she not intellectual enough for you?”

“This is a trick,” Draco observed, pulling his cloak tighter about his shoulders as Blaise lifted the wards that guarded the entrance to his home. “If I say she's not intelligent enough, you're going to say that that says something about me, since she got higher marks than me. If I say she is intelligent enough, you're going to ask me why I haven't bloody well asked her out.”

Blaise laughed as he pushed his front door open. “I know why you would never ask her out - aside from the muggle-born issue, of course.”

“And what reason could that possibly be?” Blaise waggled his eyebrows at his friend.

“Because she's engaged to Potter, and he'd kill you before you could even blink at her.”

“I'm not one for dating Mudbloods, anyway,” Draco sniffed disdainfully, heading towards the fireplace.

“I thought you'd gotten past that prejudice,” Blaise commented, eyeing his friend.

“Some things never change,” Draco replied, disappearing behind the flames.

-->

Chapter Two

Draco watched as Blaise moved his rook, and he sniggered. “Are you sure you want to move there?”

“You're not going to make me second-guess myself, Draco,” Blaise said calmly. “I know what I'm doing, and you don't bother me in the slightest.”

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his lips as a caramel colored owl tapped on the window. Blaise rose from his seat and opened the window, and after he had removed the parchment from the creature's leg, it flew away. He closed the window and reclaimed his chair at the small table. Draco arched an eyebrow at the rolled-up parchment that he'd placed next to the chessboard.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Aren't you going to open it?”

“No,” Blaise replied serenely, eyeing Draco's pieces on the board. Draco frowned.

“Why not?”

“Because I know who it's from, and I want to open it when you leave.”

“Are you embarrassed of it?” Draco asked, smirking. Blaise's cheeks colored slightly, but he didn't respond. “Ah, it must be from the girl Weasel, then.”

“Don't call her that.”

“I've always called her that, and I'm not going to stop just because of some foolish crush you have on her.”

“Right,” Blaise muttered, sighing. “It's your move.”

Draco made no move to touch his game pieces as he leaned forward. “As soon as you shag her, you'll lose interest, Zabini.”

“How crass,” Blaise said, his face the picture of disgust. “For Salazar's sake, Draco, it's called tact. Use some.”

“As long as we're throwing the word crass around-“ Draco began, shrugging. Blaise cursed under his breath and rose from the table.

“Draco, I'm going to go out with Ginny Weasley no matter what you say about her or her family, so why don't you just give it up right now?”

“Fine,” Draco said calmly. “If you feel the need to go slumming, then by all means, knock yourself out.”

“She's pureblooded, in case you've forgotten,” Blaise pointed out exasperatedly.

“And? She also happens to be a member of one of the poorest pureblooded Wizarding families, in case you'd forgotten.”

“I haven't forgotten anything,” Blaise retorted angrily. “Except why I bother to keep speaking to you when you're in one of your moods.”

Draco's eyebrows went up so high that they almost disappeared into his hairline. “One of my moods?”

“That's right, one of your infamous moods. I tend to forget that you're such a social recluse that you forget how to treat people - not that you ever knew how to do that to begin with.”

“Calm yourself,” Draco sighed, rolling his eyes and reclining in his chair. “Is this really worth it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Is it really worth it to pick a fight with me over a Weasley?”

“Me pick a fight with you?” Blaise asked incredulously.

“She's just a woman. Women come and go, Zabini. We've been friends since we were three weeks old - she's not worth it.”

“I'll make that decision,” Blaise said, even though he could feel his anger deflating. How was it that Draco could make him so angry, and then make that anger disappear just as quickly? He sank back down into his chair and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“What's the appeal?”

“Look, I don't need you to take the mickey out of me-“

“No, I'm honestly curious.” Blaise lifted his eyes to look at his friend. When he detected no trace of malice, he nodded.

“Did you ever speak to her? I mean, other than to insult her?”

“Not that I'm aware of,” Draco said dryly.

“I used to listen to her talking to her friends, and I was fascinated. She has a terrific lot of spirit, Draco. Not to mention that she's highly intelligent.”

“I find it difficult to believe that there's actually a brain hiding beneath all of that hideous red hair.” An image of fiery red hair behind a bat-bogey hex made him shudder imperceptibly.

“I think that if you spoke to her, you'd be surprised.”

“Well, it's a good thing that no one's paying you to think, then.” Blaise glared at him.

“I can see why you've never been able to hold on to a woman.” Draco's eyes flashed.

“Excuse me?”

“I said,” Blaise began. Draco interrupted him.

“I know what you said. Me, unable to hold on to a woman? That's utterly ridiculous.”

“Then why is it that your lady friends never stay around for more than a few days - when you have them, that is?”

“I choose the women I want in my bed. Is it my fault that after I've shagged them, I lose interest in them?”

“Perhaps you're going about the thing the wrong way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps you should get to know the woman before you decide to shag her. Merlin forbid, you might want to keep her around, after that.”

“The only woman I would ever want to keep around would have to be as smart as me, and I believe I've already told you that smart women are difficult to control.”

“Why must you control them? Why can't it be an equal relationship?”

“You're not even dating the bint yet, and already you're campaigning for equal rights for women,” Draco sighed, massaging his temples. Blaise frowned.

“Don't call her that.”

“I'm not going to change my phraseology just because you've decided to date beneath your class.”

“You really are a snob,” Blaise said, laughing despite himself. His eyes fell on the parchment, and Draco smirked.

“Go on, open it.”

“And have you tease me mercilessly? No thanks.”

“I'm going to do that anyway,” Draco said reasonably. “Might as well give me ample cause.”

“Good point,” Blaise said, nodding. He broke the seal on the parchment and unrolled it.

Blaise,

I hope you don't think it too forward of me to contact you like this, but I've been thinking about the other night. I wondered if you might like to get together some time for lunch, or maybe just grab some coffee together. I apologize if I've bothered you with this letter, and I hope to hear from you soon.

Ginny Weasley

When he'd finished reading, Blaise could feel the stupid smile that was plastered to his face. Draco sniggered.

“Well? What's it to be? Dinner with her family in the rodents' nest, or is she at least smart enough to have chosen a public outlet for your wedding?”

“She wants to have lunch or coffee sometime,” Blaise said coolly, glancing around the study.

“Your quill and ink are on your desk, where they always are,” Draco said, one eyebrow shooting up. “Why do you insist on this farce, when you know that I know you better than you know yourself?”

“Don't you long to have that sort of a relationship with a woman?” Blaise asked, rising from his seat and moving towards the desk. He began scribbling a response at the bottom of the letter.

“I don't long for a woman, period.”

“You don't want to have someone around all the time who would anticipate your wants and needs and fulfill them for you before you even had to ask?”

“Pardon? I stopped listening at `having someone around all the time,'” Draco said, focusing his attention on the chess board again.

Blaise rolled up the parchment and left the room. Several minutes later, he returned to find Draco still staring at the game board.

“I trust everything went according to plan,” he murmured. Blaise frowned.

“What?”

“You sent her an owl, did you not?”

“I did.”

“And she hasn't responded yet? How rude,” Draco sniggered. “But really, what more can you expect from a commoner?”

“Snob,” Blaise sighed, reclaiming his seat. Draco frowned at him.

“Only a letter from her, and you've already been reduced to a one-syllable repetitive vocabulary. I shudder to think what might happen to you if the two of you spend any amount of time together.”

“I suppose you'll find out soon enough then, won't you?”

-->

Chapter Three

Fast forward six months…

“It was incredibly plebian of them to decorate this shop so garishly,” Draco commented, swatting at a tiny cupid with the back of his hand. “This nuisance in particular has been following me around since I stepped over the threshold.”

“Which, I'd wager, is precisely the reason that you've avoided Madam Puddifoot's since you and Pansy stopped seeing each other,” Blaise replied, laughing.

“Exactly - so would you mind telling me why I'm here now?”

“We're waiting for Ginny - her break is in about five minutes, and I asked her to meet me for lunch. Since you insisted on following me around today, you're going to meet with her, too.”

“Following you around? That's laughable,” Draco snorted, batting at the cupid again. “I swear to Circe, if this wretched creature doesn't leave me the hell alone-“

“Aw, Malfoy - don't tell me you don't enjoy having a fluffy pink cloud floating around your head.” Blaise and Draco both looked up in time to catch the epic smirk that was plastered on Ginny's face.

“Ah, Ginny,” Blaise said, giving her a wide smile as he stood and embraced her. When he kissed her forehead, Draco rolled his eyes.

“So,” Ginny said, waiting for Blaise to slide into the booth, and then sliding in beside him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Malfoy?”

“Don't think I came just to see you,” he said. His voice was deceiving; if anyone else had been listening, it would have sounded pleasant. Ginny, however, could clearly hear the venom dripping from his words.

“Of course not,” she said pleasantly. “What happened? Did your house elves finally decide to join the revolt, or did they just refuse to serve your royally annoying arse?”

Blaise chortled. “She got you, Draco.”

“No, she didn't. She could never hope to get me, in any capacity - let alone with words.”

“Afraid of women who are smarter than you?” she asked innocently, taking a sip of the water the waitress had placed in front of her.

“Surely you're not insinuating that you are smarter than me?”

“Why don't we talk about something a bit less confrontational?” Blaise suggested, pouring some sugar into his coffee. The cupid that had been circling Draco's head dove, and Ginny smothered a giggle as Draco swatted at it.

“Come near me again, and I'll hex you to hell and back,” Draco threatened, pointing a long finger at the tiny pink man. Ginny couldn't contain her laughter any longer when the chubby cupid shot a miniscule arrow at the blonde man. Blaise joined in her laughter, and Draco looked nothing short of furious.

“It's a shame to look so undignified,” Blaise gasped through his laughter. Draco's eyes narrowed at the pair sitting across from him.

“I must say I rather agree with you.”

“But it's not every day that one gets to see Draco Malfoy sparring with Cupid,” Blaise added, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I wish I had my camera,” Ginny added, smiling up at Blaise. Draco frowned. “It would be so gratifying to show people a picture of this.”

After the laughter died down, Ginny ordered her lunch, and Blaise ordered a muffin for himself. “So tell me how your day's been,” Blaise said, smiling at Ginny.

“It's been all right,” she said, shrugging. “A normal day, by any standards. Nothing exceptional has happened.”

“Do you even know what the word exceptional means?” Draco snorted derisively. Ginny ignored him and finished her meal.

“What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” Ginny asked, her eyes focused on Blaise. He smiled.

“I'm not sure yet, to be perfectly honest. Draco hasn't dictated the remainder of my day yet.”

“Dictate, indeed,” Draco remarked, rolling his eyes.

“Well, on that note,” Ginny began, rising from her seat. “I have to be getting back to work now.” She leaned over and pressed her lips quickly to Blaise's cheek, and then with a wave over her shoulder, left the tea shop.

“What do you see in her?” Draco asked, frown lines creasing his forehead.

“She's a fantastic person,” Blaise said nonchalantly, shrugging. “She's fun to be with, and I can have an intelligent conversation with her.”

“She must be a fantastic shag if you've stayed with her this long.”

“I wouldn't know how she is in bed - we haven't taken our relationship to that level yet.” Draco boggled at his friend.

“You what? You mean you've been dating her for six months, and nothing?”

“Ginny isn't that kind of girl,” Blaise explained, sipping at his third cup of tea. “She's not just shagging material - she's marriage material.”

Draco was shocked into speechlessness.

“And I know what you're going to say about marrying beneath my class and whatnot, so you can just save it,” Blaise said, shaking his head. “I've already bought the ring, and I plan on asking her sometime within the next week or so.”

“Marriage?” Draco asked, finally finding his voice. “To a Weasley? Are you out of your mind, Zabini? You haven't even shagged her yet, and you're willing to shackle yourself to her for an undetermined amount of time? What if she's terrible in bed?”

“Then I have my mistress for that,” Blaise said reasonably. Draco's eyebrows shot up so far that they nearly disappeared into his hairline.

“Mistress? And does your soon-to-be affianced know about this other woman?”

“Of course she doesn't. You know she wouldn't approve.”

“But you're willing to risk it anyway?”

“The sex is fantastic, and my mistress knows that I have no interest in her past the physical pleasures that we share. Ginny is flawless marriage material - she's pure-blooded, she can cook, she can clean, she is level headed, and she comes from an obviously fertile family, so she can provide me several heirs.”

“I can't believe I'm hearing this,” Draco uttered, sitting back in his chair. “You know that the girl can't be as pristine as you think she is.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“She's got to have something dirty in her past that makes her unfit for what you're proposing.”

“I've already had her checked out,” the dark-haired man said coolly. “She's been followed for weeks, and nothing's come of it. I had a friend do a background check at the Ministry, and she's got no spots on her record. Nothing.”

“How is Millicent doing, by the by?” Draco asked, sighing. “Did you have to pay her this time, or did she research the girl as a favor?”

“She's fine, not that you really care.”

“I'm sorry, I just don't buy it.”

“Buy what?”

“That your girlfriend doesn't have some dark, dirty secret that she's hiding from you. I don't think she's as clean as you seem to believe. I'll bet that as soon as you're married, she takes a lover, too.”

“Ginny would never sleep with someone outside of marriage,” Blaise said, laughing. “We've already had this conversation. She's saving herself for her husband.”

“And you believe her? She dated Potter for an entire year, and you expect me to believe that as much as she worshipped him, she never let him-“

“We've already talked about him,” Blaise said, cutting his friend off. “She was very much in love with him, and he wanted to take their relationship to that level, but she refused.”

“She can't be a virgin.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“She just can't be.”

“She is.”

“Have her examined at St. Mungo's.”

“Draco!” Blaise hissed, his eyes narrowing. “I will not compromise her integrity like that! I believe her when she says she's untouched.”

“She won't remain that way. She'll be sullied before you're married.”

“How can you talk like that, when you don't even know the woman?” He paused for a moment, staring intently at the blonde man as he thought. “Are you going to try something?”

“What? Why would I even let a pinky near that filth-“

“Nevermind,” Blaise said, rolling his eyes. “Besides, she'd never have you, at any rate. She loathes you and everything about you.”

Draco bristled.

“Are you suggesting that if I showed interest in her, she wouldn't fall at my feet?”

“No, I'm not suggesting it.” Draco relaxed. “I'm saying it outright.”

“Nonsense! She'd be grateful for any attention I chose to send in her general direction, just like all women are.”

“Ginny isn't like other women - that's what I've been trying to tell you.”

“Stuff and nonsense.”

“You couldn't get her to talk to you nicely if you tried - not to mention get into her knickers.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Please - even if it were a challenge, you'd have impossible odds to overcome. You have absolutely no chance with her. Zero.”

“We'll see about that, shall we? Five hundred galleons says I can get her into bed before you marry her.”

“This is ridiculous!” Blaise exclaimed, laughing. “All right, just because I have such faith in her, I'll take you up on your ridiculous bet.”

“Better pay a visit to Gringott's, my friend,” Draco said, standing and smoothing the wrinkles out of the front of his shirt. “You're about to become very acquainted with the sting of defeat.”

-->

Chapter Four

Draco had worked furiously for several days trying to conceive of a plan to bed Ginny Weasley. The thought wasn't entirely distasteful to him, though he'd never admit it to anyone else, even if they Crucio'd him to hell and back. If it weren't for her red hair, he might even be able to pretend that she was someone else, and not a member of the biggest clan of blood traitors he'd ever known.

In the end, his plan was beautifully simple. He would pretend to run into her at one of her usual haunts, and then whisk her away to dinner in a fancy restaurant. Truth be told, he was actually rather looking forward to proving his friend wrong. He wasn't concerned with collecting on their bet; he had more than enough money. All he really wanted to do was to prove his point.

On the day he'd decided to execute his plan, he took a long, leisurely bath, and took his time in dressing. He wanted to be sure that he looked every bit the part of the wealthy, charming Wizard that he was - she should have absolutely no reason not to desire him. After ensuring that every last hair was securely in place, he apparated to the sidewalk just in front of her place of employment. When she stepped out of the front door, he was ready for her.

“Good evening,” he said smoothly. She turned and gave him a surprised look.

“I'd say it was closer to afternoon. What are you doing here?” She glanced around.

“He's not here,” he said, tugging once at the cuff of his button-down shirt. “He's sent me to tell you that he won't be able to make your dinner date this evening.”

“Oh.” She stared at him. “Why not just send an owl?”

“He wanted me to tell you.”

“And since when are you his messenger boy?”

“I thought that perhaps you and I could dine together.” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“You and I?”

“Yes. It's my understanding that the two of you have a reservation at Périgord Noir, so why let it go to waste?”

“At Périgord Noir?” Her surprised look had melted into a mask of confusion.

“Weasley, if you insist on repeating everything I say, this conversation is going to take twice as long,” he said, rolling his eyes. She bristled.

“Look, if you're trying to get a feel for me because you're worried about your friend's involvement with me, you're wasting your time. He's already had background checks performed on me, and he's been having me followed for weeks now. I'm sure he has ample information on me with which to decide whether or not I'm worthy of his time.”

“I simply wish to get to know you,” he said neutrally. So the woman was aware of Blaise's intrusions into her privacy and hadn't shared that information with him, or even gotten angry with him? How interesting. “If you're going to be a lasting part of his life, you and I will be interacting often, whether we enjoy it or not. Why not make it a peaceable transition for everyone involved?”

The look she gave him spoke volumes of distrust.

“Let me make sure I understand you perfectly,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “You want to have dinner with me because you want to get to know me and make things easier on Blaise?”

“Should there be another reason?” he asked innocently. She sized him up a moment longer, and then nodded curtly.

“Fine, I'll bite. I need to go home and freshen up a bit, and then I'll meet you at Périgord Noir.” She turned and started to walk away, but stopped when she realized that he was keeping pace beside her. “What are you doing?”

“I should think it's obvious even to you, Weasley. I'm escorting you home.”

“I can see that,” she said angrily. “But why?”

“I am a proper gentleman, and a gentleman does not allow a lady to wander about unescorted.”

She snorted in disbelief. “Lady? You're laying it on a bit thick, aren't you? I mean, if you'd told me that you wanted to eat with me in order to see if I'm good enough for your friend, that would have at least been more believable than what you're trying to do now. Now you'd have me believe that you're trying to be a gentleman?”

“I'm not trying to be anything,” he snapped.

“Oh, come on,” she returned, her eyes dancing. “Nice doesn't work on you, Malfoy. Why don't you try on one of your other personalities?”

“What are you implying?”

“I'm not implying anything, I'm saying it outright. You've got a hidden agenda for wanting to have dinner with me.”

“Are you saying that you won't go with me now?”

“I said no such thing.” He swallowed his surprise.

“Then what are you saying? That even though you think my motives are less than pure, you're still going to have dinner with me?”

“A girl's got to eat, hasn't she? And don't say `less than pure,' because that gives me the willies.”

“What shall I say, then?”

“How about `less than honest'?” She suggested blithely, turning to continue towards her flat. “It's more accurate.”

He frowned as he fell into step beside her. “What's the difference?”

“You don't know the difference between `pure' and `honest'?” She asked, giving him a sideways glance.

“The definitions, yes,” he snapped, annoyed. “How they differ in the context of our present conversation, no.”

“Less than pure would imply that you have some sort of interest in me beyond what is proper - and since we both know that you have no interest in me in that capacity, it's erroneous.”

“In a physical capacity, do you mean?”

“Merlin, do I have to lay it out for you?” The exasperation in her voice irritated him further. “Yes! When you use `pure,' that makes it sound as if you want to shag me, is that clear enough for you?”

“I do not need things explained to me as though I'm a toddler,” he said coldly. “And I thought that you thought less of me than that.”

“Less than what?” She laughed. “You believe that I think you'd shag me because you know that I think you'll shag any woman who opens her legs to you?”

“How incredibly crude,” he said, wrinkling his nose distastefully.

“I quite agree - it is crude of you.” She smothered a smile at the outraged expression that passed over his face. “Then again, it's not like I'm included in that category, is it? Because we both know that I'd never open my legs to you.”

“Or to any other man, from what I understand.” It was meant to be an insult, but she looked proud instead of hurt.

“That's right. Why should I settle for less than I deserve?”

“What?” She fished inside her robe for her wand, and whispered the words that unlocked her flat so low that Draco didn't hear. Frustrated, he followed her inside, ignoring his surroundings for the moment. “Less than you deserve? What's that got to do with your being frigid?”

“I'm not frigid, I'm picky,” she shrugged, removing her robe and hanging it meticulously on the hook behind the door. “Why should I let a man have access to me physically if he can't stimulate me emotionally? I'm not going to just give myself to a man because he's horny. I deserve some emotional investment - not just a drunk spot of `how's your father' in the closest convenient place.”

“I think I understand now,” Draco snarked, arching an eyebrow. “You think that love goes hand in hand with sex.”

“It doesn't always, no,” she answered, pulling the pins out of her hair. Scarlet locks tumbled down around her shoulders and fell around her face as she bent to unfasten the straps of her shoes.

“Then why the hesitation? Afraid it will hurt too much the first time?” His lips curved up in a smirk.

“Oh, grow up,” she breathed, pulling a shoe off. “You think that just because you call me frigid and scared that I'll jump into bed with you? Has that actually worked on anyone else?”

“When I want a woman in my bed, there's one in it without coercion of any sort, I assure you.” She rolled her eyes. “You're surprisingly immodest for a virgin,” he remarked, watching her closely as she unfastened the first two buttons of her dress shirt. She shook her head.

“Yes, because Merlin knows I can't wait to seduce you - everyone knows that sleeping with you is my life's goal, right?” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I always loosen my top two buttons when I get home, you twit. Don't think for a second that I'd ever put on a show for your arrogant arse.”

“You sound as if you've put some thought into it - just how often do you concern yourself with my arse?” Her jaw dropped slightly, and he continued as though he didn't see. “If they bother you so much when they're fastened, why do you even bother with them to begin with?” he asked disinterestedly, examining himself in the mirror that hung above her hearth.

“I know you have no concept of this, Malfoy, since you don't actually work for a living, but it looks incredibly unprofessional to show up for work looking half-dressed.”

“As if you care what you look like,” he said calmly, smoothing a hair back into place. “Your hair alone attracts so much attention that I doubt anyone would even notice if you were naked.”

“Gee, thanks for that,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I'm crushed. Really. As if I haven't heard you insult my hair before - really, you should try to think of some new material. Take a whole night and just sit around thinking of witty comebacks.”

“As if I'd waste an entire night simply thinking about you.”

“You're wasting an entire night with me instead, then?” She didn't wait for an answer before moving into her bedroom and closing the door. In the next moment, he heard the sound of running water.

“Mouthy bint,” he muttered under his breath. She'd latched onto his motive immediately, but hadn't turned him away, which he took as a positive sign. She'd allowed him to follow her home and was even showering with him in the flat, leaving herself open to an attack - should the mood strike him. Surely she didn't trust him enough to think that he wouldn't take advantage of her, did she? Or perhaps she simply trusted that he cared enough about Blaise not to try anything with her? The thought made his lips twist into a wicked smile.

After several minutes had passed, he sat down on the sofa to wait. Her flat was entirely too small, and the smell of the cinnamon air freshener that was sitting on her coffee table was beginning to make him feel lightheaded. When she finally emerged from her bedroom, his head was throbbing mercilessly.

“I'm ready.”

“Finally. I didn't realize that you knew how to bathe.”

“Funny. Unlike you, I even know how to wash my hair. Let's go, I want to get this night over with.”

“You can scrub all you like, but you'll never erase the stink of poverty and bad upbringing. You do know that, right?”

“And you'll never be able to get rid of the gel buildup you have in your hair, either, you pompous nancy boy,” she pointed out, reaching for her cloak. “You know, for someone who's supposedly doing this in an effort to be nice to his best friend, you're certainly not trying very hard.”

“You're not worth the extra effort,” he supplied coolly, following her out the door.

“Is that right,” she said distractedly, reaching for her wand. He watched her raise the wards on her flat, and then she turned and began walking.

“You have nothing to say to that?”

“Nothing that you'd actually listen to, so why waste my breath?” She pulled her cloak tighter about her body.

“I don't think that's it at all. You know that it's true, and that's why you're not saying anything to refute - damn it, Weasley! I know you're poor, but it doesn't cost money to Apparate somewhere! Must you walk, or have you forgotten that you're a witch and therefore have alternate means of transportation?” he demanded.

“I like walking.”

“That's because your plebeian feet were built for hard labor,” he snapped. She stopped and turned to look at him, highly amused.

“Plebeian feet? Oh, that's rich! You mean you've never walked anywhere before, just because you could?”

“Why would I do that? I'm a capable Wizard and I find apparition quite useful! It's not as hard on my shoes as walking is!” Her jaw dropped, and she started giggling uncontrollably.

“You're afraid of ruining your shoes? Oh, it hurts!” She clutched at her sides as she gasped for breath. Her laughter attracted the stares of passerby, angering Draco further. “Sweet Merlin! I'll bet you're one of those girly men who even get pedicures!”

“There's nothing wrong with being well-groomed,” he protested hotly. Her laughter escalated.

“You-you're a girly man! Oh, sweet Circe! You really are a ponce!” Too angry for words, Draco chose to simply glare at her. She swiped tears of laughter away from the corners of her eyes and arched her eyebrow at him. “So are you really just sleeping with women to keep up appearances? I have to know - Ron and I have a bet going.”

“You - you're betting on whether or not I'm a - a-“ He stumbled over the words, and she smiled at him.

“Whether or not you're a what, Malfoy?” She asked sweetly.

“I refuse to take the bait,” he snapped, turning and striding towards the restaurant. Her peals of laughter followed him until he'd gotten roughly four blocks away from her. He was inside the restaurant being shown to their table when she finally rejoined him.

“Welcome to Périgord Noir,” the waiter said, smiling brightly at them. “Can I start you off with a glass of our finest house wine?”

“That sounds lovely,” Ginny said, nodding. Draco pointedly ignored them both, and after several awkward moments of silence, the waiter left to get Ginny's wine. “You're angry with me; there's no point in taking it out on the waiter - especially not if you expect to be the recipient of decent service tonight.” He shot an annoyed look at her, and became even more annoyed when she didn't seem to notice it. She was studying her menu, her eyes moving back and forth rapidly across the page as she did.

“I don't have to be nice to anyone,” he said finally, giving the rest of the room a disinterested glance. “His position dictates that he wait on me. It's his job..”

“It's his job, yes. But that doesn't mean that he has to be nice to you while he's doing it.”

“If he wants a tip, he'll be nice.”

“Or maybe he'll just decide that the tip isn't worth it and box your ears instead.” She missed his incredulous glare as she flipped the menu over to examine the other side.

“I don't know what Zabini sees in you,” he said offhandedly, his voice cold and calculating. “You're filthy, you're common, and you have a vulgar mouth.”

“I'm also pureblooded, independently wealthy, and a virgin,” she said calmly, still not giving him the satisfaction of so much as an angry glance. “Not to mention that he happens to enjoy my sense of humor and other conversational skills.”

“Your wine, Miss,” the waiter said politely, placing an elegant long-stemmed glass in front of her. “And a complimentary basket of our famous, fresh-baked bread.” She gave him a brilliant smile and nodded.

“That's very sweet - thank you.” Draco rolled his eyes and tried to prevent his gag reflex.

“You're most welcome. Are you ready to order, then?”

“I'll have the Noix de St-Jacques saisies, pulpes de betteraves.” Draco stared at her, his jaw dropping.

“Very good. And for you, sir?” Draco couldn't help but notice the man's obviously frosty demeanor when speaking to him, and wondered for a split second if the redhead could be right about being nice. He dismissed the notion as quickly as it had come.

“Filet de boeuf de race Limousine, piqué de rattes à la fleur de thym.” The waiter nodded and left without waiting for Draco to order a drink. “Since when are you cultured enough to know how to speak French? Has Zabini been instructing you?”

Ginny folded her hands together in her lap and gave him a calm look. “Just because you believe something doesn't make it so.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that just because you believe that I'm uneducated doesn't mean that it's reality. Then again, you seem to have difficulty in distinguishing the line between reality and the fiction you choose to believe so often, don't you?”

“Is this a pathetic attempt at goading me?” He reached for a linen napkin and placed it across his lap.

“No, it's my pathetic attempt at trying to engage you in normal conversation,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Obviously you have no earthly idea what that even means. You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar, Malfoy. Ponder that for a while.”

He watched as she reached out and plucked a steaming roll from the basket between them, and frowned silently. If his goal was to seduce her, perhaps he should take a cue from her and actually try to be nice - even if he was only pretending. It was a distasteful idea, but it was quickly becoming a necessary means to his end, was it not? She obviously liked sappy, overly sentimental dolts - she liked Zabini, after all. Surely pretending for a night wouldn't be asking too much, if in the end his point was made?

She was in the middle of spreading an obscene amount of butter on her roll when he spoke. He winced as the words left him. “You're right. I apologize.”

The knife she'd been using fell from her hand and clattered against the tabletop noisily, despite the thick tablecloth. Her jaw dropped and she was gaping openly at him.

“Wait a minute, I think I just hallucinated,” she said, shaking her head to clear it. She cleared her throat and blinked several times before meeting his eye again. “All right. Did you just say something?”

“Yes, I apologized,” he said, his voice edgy with the irritation he felt. It was difficult, this being nice thing. How long would he have to keep it up? An hour? Maybe two? The thought of such exertion made him feel tired already. “You're absolutely right.”

“Okay,” she said, putting her roll down and wiping her fingers delicately on her napkin, “Now I know something is up. You've just apologized and told me that I was right about something, both in less than a minute.” She stared suspiciously at him, and cocked her head to the side. “Are you dying? Is that it? Trying to redeem yourself at the last minute?”

“Redeem myself of what?” he snapped angrily. “What have I done that necessitates redemption?”

“Ah, there it is,” she said, nodding. He watched in confusion as she picked up her roll and sank her teeth into it.

“There what is?”

“You. Your sourness.”

“What?” he snorted in disbelief. “You just finished telling me that I'd catch more flies with honey than vinegar, so I try to be nice. Then you intimate that you prefer my usual demeanor instead of the niceties you've suggested? What in the holy hell is wrong with you? Are you always this indecisive?”

“I'm not indecisive,” she said, licking an errant drop of butter off of her finger. “Nice doesn't suit you. Besides, I have to wonder why you're interested in catching the flies in the first place.”

He stared at her.

“You're mental. Totally, completely, mind-numbingly bonkers.”

“Well, you know what they say,” she chirped brightly. “You are the company you keep.”

-->

Thanks to Jess for the Beta!

Chapter Five

“She shot you down, didn't she?” Blaise asked, highly amused. Draco had been sulking all day, and Blaise hadn't needed to talk to Ginny to know that Draco hadn't gotten anywhere with her. “I'll bet you didn't even get to breach the subject of sex.”

“Her virginity was mentioned,” Draco said truthfully. He rubbed his face tiredly. He had a migraine that even his strongest illicit potions hadn't been able to get rid of, and he had Ginny bloody Weasley to thank for that, he was sure. Blaise roared with laughter, and Draco winced at the abrasive sound.

“I told you she was solid. Oh, if she can resist the wiles of the most renowned Casanova in the Wizarding world, she is definitely marriage material!”

“It doesn't help that she didn't like me to start off with,” Draco protested, annoyed. “All I need is a little more time.”

“My friend, you couldn't get into her knickers if you had several millennia to try.”

“Oh, really? Want to up the bet, then?” Blaise shook his head.

“You're just asking for the big hurt, you know that, right? If by some miracle of the Gods you actually do manage to get her into bed with you, you still lose.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Not only will I never speak to you again, she'll give you a royal arse-beating.”

“Oh, goody; something to look forward to,” Draco said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Besides, you'd never bin off with me. I'm the only friend you've got.”

Blaise rolled his eyes and grinned. “Doesn't matter. We don't need to worry about it because this is one bet that you're going to lose. Personally, I don't even know how the two of you tolerated each other at dinner last night for as long as you did.”

“You didn't tell me that she knew French,” Draco accused suddenly, turning his eyes to his friend. Blaise looked slightly surprised.

“I didn't know that she did,” he admitted.

“She's never spoken French at Périgord Noir before?” He asked suspiciously.

“No, I've always ordered for her.”

“And yet she spoke her order flawlessly last night.” Draco looked thoughtful. “So does she really know French, or was she just imitating what she's heard you speak before?”

“What does it really matter?”

“Either she was deceitful with me, or she's placating you.”

“How do you figure that?”

“She made no errors in her pronunciation, Zabini. If she orders the same thing every time you dine there and has just memorized the way you spoke her order, then she deceived me by leading me to believe that she was fluent in the language. If she actually knows the language and hasn't told you, she's letting you order for her in order to placate you.”

“Why would she want to do that?” Blaise asked skeptically.

“I don't know - probably to make you feel more like a man, or some other such similarly idiotic reason. The point is, either way, one of us is getting blagged.”

“Oh, please!” Blaise snorted. “You just struck out before you even made it to first base, and you're angry about it.” Draco gave him a blank stare, and Blaise sighed. “Muggle sporting term.”

“I won't even bother to ask how you know that, or what it means,” Draco sniffed disdainfully.

“Ginny's father rather enjoys all things Muggle,” Blaise explained. “The man is really quite fascinating, you know. He actually-“

“I'm sorry, did I mistakenly give you the impression that I cared? What I'm interested in is who is she lying to, and why?”

“Obviously she's lying to you,” Blaise said. “She wouldn't lie to me.”

“Oh? I wouldn't be so sure of that, if I were you.”

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly that she's not as dumb as either one of us take her for,” Draco said, his brow creasing in thought.

“I have never thought that she was - as you so eloquently phrase it - dumb.”

“Yes you did, and you still do,” Draco rejoined. “You've got a mistress, haven't you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You said she didn't know about your mistress, right? Apparently you don't think she's smart enough to be able to figure out that you're sleeping with another woman. We have both underestimated her intelligence.”

“I didn't-“

Draco continued on as though speaking to himself. “Well, and who could blame us? She is a Weasley, after all. Who would have thought that she'd be able to run such a scam?”

“Now, hang on just a tic-“

“She's obviously just trying to land a rich husband. But why didn't she aim higher?” he mused aloud. “There are many Wizards far richer than you!”

“Name three,” Blaise challenged. Draco clasped his hands behind his back as he stared out the window, across the frosty grounds of the Manor.

“Perhaps she realized that you would be the most vulnerable to her - shall we say charms?” He turned and looked at his friend. “So how do you suggest that we go about exposing her chicanery?”

“Yes,” Blaise laughed. “Because you're an expert at subterfuge, right?”

“She brought this on herself,” Draco protested. “She's the one who's lying, not us.”

“Aren't you the one who's trying to seduce her to make her unmarriageable for me?” Blaise pointed out. “The last time I checked, that wasn't exactly considered truthful.”

“I won't allow you to be tied down to a filthy little liar for the rest of your life.”

“You just don't want me to marry her. Tell me, what's the difference between taking her for a wife and having someone that you actually consider proper? Because I'm going to have mistresses either way, you know - it's not like it really matters who I'm married to, if she can give me children.”

“She's just to be a breeding mare, then?”

“No - she's quite intelligent, and therefore a decent conversationalist. She's also well-mannered, which means that she'll be able to attend functions with me - things like weddings, dinner parties, political events - you get the idea.”

“Does she know all of this?” Draco asked, making a broad, sweeping gesture with his hand. “That she will basically be only a trophy wife of sorts?”

“Of course not,” Blaise returned, frowning. “Are you mad? What woman would willingly agree to that?”

“And you accuse me of being deceitful,” Draco breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “When is your next date?”

“Tonight. I wanted to make it up to her for having to spend time with you last night.” Blaise laughed. Draco narrowed his eyes at his friend.

“Did she complain to you? I did nothing improper.”

“You are such a hypocrite, Draco! You're worried that she may have told me that you behaved poorly, and yet you went out with her with the sole intention of seducing her! Do you see the irony here?”

“Where are the two of you going?” Draco asked, brushing off the comment. Blaise sighed in exasperation.

“I don't really know. I haven't tried to make any reservations for dinner yet.”

“Then I'll do it. I'm going with you, and then you're going to conveniently have to excuse yourself from the dinner table.”

“Excuse me?”

“Exactly - see, you've grasped the concept already.” Draco turned to rummage through his desk for parchment and a new quill. “Damned house elves keep straightening my desk even though I tell them not to - I can never find anything I bloody well need when I need it! Someone's going to have their fingers ironed tonight.”

“Wait,” Blaise said, holding a hand up. “Are you telling me that you're going to steal my date?”

“Steal is such a crass word,” Draco replied, his back still turned to his friend. “Besides, it's not as if you'll actually miss her. Your Mistress would probably be more than happy to accommodate you this evening.”

“You're a pillock of the highest order, do you realize that?” Blaise demanded. “I actually do enjoy spending time with Ginny, believe it or not!” Draco gave him a bored look as he finished scribbling on the parchment he'd found.

“Really? Because not even a moment ago, you were telling me that you wanted her solely as a trophy wife.”

“That's not what I said,” Blaise protested vehemently. “You were the one who used the term `trophy wife,' not me!”

“Afraid that leaving her alone with me will change her mind about wanting to be with you?”

“Only if she thinks it means that she has to spend this much time around you after we're married!”

“Relax. You haven't even proposed to her yet. She thinks I'm trying to make the whole situation easier for you by being nice to her.”

“She does?” Blaise looked suspicious. “Or is that just what you've told her, and you think that she believes it? Because that's the biggest load of shit I've ever heard you spew, and she's smarter than that.”

“So you don't think that she's smart enough to find out that you've got a mistress on the side, but you do think she's smart enough to disbelieve everything I say? Now who's a hypocrite?”

Blaise squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temples to ease the ache of the migraine he could feel coming on. Draco smirked.

“What's the matter? Head hurt?”

“Does the word Schadenfreude mean anything to you, you manipulative, conniving bastard?”

“Why, Zabini,” Draco said, arching an eyebrow. “I believe that that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. I didn't know you cared.”

Blaise laughed.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Good heavens,” Hermione breathed, reading the letter that Ginny had just received. She lifted her eyes to her friend and cleared her throat. “Are you going to go?”

“Sure, why not?” Ginny asked, shrugging. Hermione gaped at her, and Ginny laughed. “Don't worry about me. I had dinner with Malfoy last night, and we were alone then, and nothing happened.”

“Why on earth did you have dinner with him?” Hermione gasped. “You're dating Blaise, not Malfoy!”

“Blaise knew about it,” she said, shrugging noncommittally. “If he'd had a problem with it, he would've found a way to stop it from happening.”

“Ginny, be careful. I mean it.” Ginny turned to find her friend's amber eyes full of concern.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but you know the sort of twisted games that Malfoy likes to play. I'm afraid for you - this could be just another one of his mind tricks, being civil to you. Who knows, he might be trying to build up your trust and then one day, poof! He'll turn on you.”

“He'll never have my trust,” Ginny reassured her. “A chameleon never changes his spots, remember?” Hermione laughed, though the sound was more guarded than Ginny would have liked.

“A leopard never changes his spots - you know how it goes.”

“Yes, well - I like my way better.”

“You always have.” Hermione smiled affectionately at her best friend. Ginny smiled back.

“I'll be fine, I promise. Besides, if Blaise really wants to marry me, he'll keep Malfoy from doing anything particularly bad.”

“Marry you?” Hermione boggled. “The two of you are already talking marriage? You've only been seeing each other for a few months!”

“Six months,” Ginny corrected her, turning and inspecting her hair in the mirror. “And no, we're not talking marriage.”

“Then why-“

“I'm not as naïve as he takes me for. I've heard talk among some of his friends that he's already purchased a ring.”

“And you're sure it's for you?”

“It sure as hell isn't for his mistress.” Hermione's jaw dropped and Ginny rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know about her, too.”

“Why are you still seeing him, when you know he's sleeping with another woman?”

“I'm tired, Hermione. I'm tired of the whole dating scene, of waiting for some mister right who isn't ever going to show up. I finally realize that that's the real fairytale; some perfect man who shares a mutual perfect love with you and you live perfectly ever after. I want to have children and grow old saying `No,' and `Stop that!', and it isn't going to happen while I'm single. Blaise is well-off, and he can more than afford to marry me, father my children, and then leave me to my own devices.”

“Don't you want something better for yourself than a man who'll give you children and then just walk away?”

“Of course I do,” Ginny said, exasperated. “But I'm not going to wait forever to find it, and it's more than clear that it's never going to come in search of me, either. I've got to take what happiness I can find, where I can find it - and now, before I get too old.”

“I - I don't know what to say.”

“Not everyone is like you and Harry, you know,” Ginny pointed out ruefully. A rosy blush stained Hermione's cheeks.

“I just find it difficult to believe that if Harry and I have found such happiness together that you aren't destined for the same thing.”

“You're a level-headed witch, Hermione, but when it comes to Harry, you're a hopeless fool.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Ginny smiled affectionately. “It just means that in all other matters, you use your head, but where Harry is involved, you're all heart. I'm so happy for both of you, really I am - but that doesn't mean that my Harry is out there somewhere, just waiting for me to stumble onto him.”

“Harry and I didn't just `stumble onto' each other,” Hermione said, shaking her head. Her blush deepened. “You know that we were friends for a long time before either of us realized-“

“Yes, but the moment you realized it, the two of you were completely bonkers. We couldn't get you apart for months afterwards!”

“Love is a funny thing, isn't it?” Hermione agreed, nodding. A tiny smile curved her lips upward and her eyes went a bit unfocused, and Ginny shook her head. Her friend had it worse than she knew.

“Speaking of Harry,” Ginny began, pointing to the clock on the wall. Hermione turned and sighed.

“Late again.”

“As per usual. You must really love him, to put up with his lateness like you do.”

“That goes without saying. Oh, well. I suppose we'll just go out for dinner tonight - warming charms can only keep food good for so long.”

“You could always just try to wait until ten minutes before he's supposed to show up and then start fixing your meals.”

“I guess.” Hermione watched as Ginny picked up her cloak and headed towards the floo. “You will be careful, won't you, Ginny? Even if it's just for my sake?”

“I will,” Ginny reassured her, disappearing into the floo.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“This is ridiculous,” Ginny laughed, approaching the table where Draco was drumming his fingers impatiently. He stood automatically, waiting until she'd been seated to reclaim his own chair.

“I beg your pardon?” he snapped, frowning.

“It's ridiculous for you to send me an owl claiming that Blaise is going to be joining us for dinner,” she said, still smiling. “If you want to be alone with me, Malfoy, just say so.”

“It would be improper-“

“Save it,” she said, holding her hand up to stop him. She picked up the menu and began perusing it. “As if you give a fig about propriety, when something you want is concerned. Now the question is, what is it that you want?”

“What are you getting at? Zabini is late, that's all. I thought I was going to be dining alone, thanks to your less-than-prompt arrival as well. When the letter said eight o'clock, it meant eight o'clock precisely - not eight fifteen.”

“You could have chatted up the waitress,” she suggested, her eyes still on the menu.

“And why in Salazar's name would I have wanted to do that?” he asked, disgust written on his face. “She's a nitwit.”

“So in other words, you've already slept with her at least once, and therefore hold no further interest in her.”

Draco leaned across the table and narrowed his eyes at her. “You're not quite as witty as you think yourself to be.” Ginny placed the menu on the table in front of her and leaned forward as well, her eyes sparkling as she stared at him.

“And you're not half as handsome as you seem to think yourself to be, either.”

“How dare you-“

“Ah! There you are!” Ginny turned and smiled as Blaise approached the table. “Lovely to see you, my dear - sorry I'm so late in arriving; I've spent the entire day working through a mountain of paperwork. You'd be surprised how excruciatingly tedious it is, making sure that Mafalda's letters get out in time.”

“Yes, it's terribly exciting, listening to the details of your secretarial work,” Draco snorted. Ginny aimed a polite smile at him.

“And your day as a bored playboy entail something more meaningful, is that it?”

Blaise guffawed. “Merlin! Is this how dinner went last night, as well? With the constant digs at each other, I mean?”

“As if it would be any other way,” Ginny said pleasantly, her eyes drifting back to the menu that lay on the table in front of her. Blaise shook his head, and Draco glared at the redhead. “You managed to get the letters out, I take it?”

“Yes,” Blaise sighed, nodding at the waitress in thanks as she deposited a glass of water onto the table in front of him. “Two cases of underaged magic in Ottery St. Catchpole alone this morning. It's been a busy day.”

Ginny smiled secretively to herself and said nothing, causing Draco to study her even more intently. If Blaise noticed the increased scrutiny, he said nothing to give himself away. “Have you ever been here before?” Ginny asked him.

“Yes, a time or two,” he admitted.

“What do you suggest, then?” Draco's brow arched as Blaise met his eye briefly. The blonde shook his head slightly, and Blaise rolled his eyes.

“This, perhaps,” Blaise said, pointing to an item on the menu. Ginny's eyebrows rose slightly, and she nodded.

“I didn't think you had such a sweet tooth,” she remarked, her eyes traveling higher on the menu. Draco pressed his lips together so hard that they began to turn white. “Is there an entrée that you enjoy?”

“Certainly,” Blaise nodded, clearing his throat and pointing again. Ginny nodded.

“Yes, that sounds lovely.”

“Do you even know what you're about to order?” Draco blurted, ignoring the waitress who was approaching their table. Ginny pointedly ignored him and gave the woman a slightly strained smile.

“I'll have the Insalata Francesca - but hold the mushrooms, please; I'm allergic.” Blaise raised his eyebrows and gave his friend a look that clearly said “I told you so,” but Draco ignored it. Blaise ordered next, and then Draco. When the waitress had gone, Draco frowned.

“You've been here before,” he accused her.

“And if I have?” she challenged, meeting his eye.

“Well, have you or haven't you?”

“If I told you that, it would take the mystery away, now wouldn't it?” she asked, smoothing out the napkin that she'd just placed across her lap. “And then you'd have no reason to try and be alone with me, and you don't want that.”

Blaise simply gaped at her.

Draco found that not only was his blood boiling angrily, but for the first time since his father had died, he was completely and utterly speechless.

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