A brightly lit cafe. Small, warm, friendly.

She glanced around and scowled. She sighed, and looked back down at her novel, turning the volume up on her Muggle iPod. She could feel her jaw tighten in annoyance as more noisy customers came in. A tall blond boy walked over and sat down in the plush chair next to hers.

"Not much of a people person, eh?" He raised his eyebrow and the corner of his thin mouth pulled up a little.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Malfoy," she retorted. His smirk instead grew wider.

"Nope, not a people person at all. Shouldn't you at least show some respect for a friendly customer?"

"I'm on break, Malfoy. You're not my customer. If you want something other than a smack in the face, go over there." Her eyes narrowed but she didn't glance up from her book.

The blonde's smirk faded and he walked over to the counter. "Two lattés, one with vanilla and extra foam," he ordered.

"Don't even bother with her, Malfoy," the barista said, nodding his head in the girl's direction. "She hates you, and it's well-known that you've never done anything nice for anyone without some sort of motive. What do you want from her?"

"A smile. I wonder if she can even smile anymore?" pondered Malfoy with eyebrows raised.

The handsome, dark-haired barista with the faded scar on his forehead shook his head worriedly and said nothing as he handed the other man the coffees.

Malfoy sauntered back over by the window. The redhead was once again engrossed in her book and did not notice as Malfoy sat down next to her. She didn't glance up until he held the steaming vanilla liquid in front of her nose. Then, her face lost some of its glare until her eyes followed the hand that was attached to the cup, and found the blonde.

"What's this? You want someone to taste it before you drink it, to make sure Harry hasn't poisoned it?"

Draco laughed whole-heartedly and shook his head. "Weasley, that may have been the case years ago, but we're both over that now."

Ginny's guard dropped some and she looked over toward the counter, where Harry was watching. She gave a half smile that was more of a grimace and a little wave. He smiled as well and went back to cleaning the counter.

"See? No problems here anymore," said Malfoy softly.

Ginny still looked suspicious as she accepted the drink. For a moment, she was lost in the coffee. How delightful! How did he know her favorite drink? And why, in Merlin's name, would he ever purchase her anything?

"So, what do you want, Malfoy?" she inquired. He must want something in return.

"Well I had originally simply wanted you to be happy, but it would be nice if you'd let me take you to lunch," he chuckled.

She considered this. Was it a trick? What was his idea of lunch? Sex? Or torture? Either was not desirable.

"Alright, on my conditions," she allowed.

"Which are...?"

"Only from noon to one-fifteen, in a crowded area, with good tea and excellent chicken salad. I don't like the stuff with cranberries and grapes and all that other crap," she said crossly.

He looked surprised, but agreed. "The Flannel Giraffe, then, Thursday. I'll pick you up at eleven-"

"Twelve. "

"It takes some time to come pick you up, you know, you can't Apparate directly in the café, and I'm assuming that I can't Apparate right into your flat either. At least a few minutes is needed beforehand," he argued.

"Well, first of all, you won't be picking me up at my flat, and second of all, it won't take more than three minutes to walk there from the nearest Apparition point, so twelve will be fine, what's three minutes from lunch anyway? How long does it take you to eat a sandwich?"

"Where am I supposed to pick you up then?" He looked confused.

"There's a park near here, called Smethowyck's Park, that'll do fine. I'll be sitting on the park bench near the orange roses." Finally, she smiled a little bit. More of a smirk, really, but still- a smile!

He smiled in return. "It's a deal, then. I'll pick you up in Smythworko's-"

"Smethowyck's."

"Yes, Smethark's Park, near the, um, roses. At noon."

Now the redhead laughed in earnest. She took out a pad of paper and a quill, and wrote in large, neat letters,

SMETHOWYCK'S PARK, MUGGLE LONDON, NOON.
PARK BENCH SURROUNDED BY ORANGE ROSES.
DON'T BE LATE.
***

The next day, at eleven forty-five, Draco left his posh flat in Wizarding London. He walked three blocks South, two blocks West, and finally found the park he was looking for. Smethowyck's. Peculiar name. He took one step into the park, and knew immediately why Ginny had finally cracked a smile. The whole, entire park was chock-full of large orange roses and lovely stone benches. He looked around in horror and felt his mood slipping. Panicked, he started brusquely weaving through the rosed benches.

Ten minutes later, he reached the biggest bench precisely in the middle of the park. Instead of being surrounded by hedges of orange roses, this bench had a great arch filled with them, and a pretty redhead sitting beneath said arch. Draco gritted his teeth but noticed how Ginny's bright hair caught in the sunlight and outshone all the roses. He walked up to her and silently held his hand out to her. She smirked again, not unlike the previous day, took his hand, and stood up.

"Did you have fun waiting?" he asked her.

"Did you have fun looking for me? You're late."

He was indeed late, but to tell her that it was all her fault would only make her cross. He bit his tongue and nodded. "Let's get going."

"No need to be sharp with me; I thought you'd enjoy looking at all the roses." She was positively gleeful at his annoyance. He took a deep breath, smiled, and said, "why yes, I love roses. My mother is quite fond of growing them in our mansion gardens. Maybe you'd like to come see it, since you also seem so fond of roses. I'm afraid we don't have orange, though. Only white, pink, red and yellow. Lovely selection, actually."

Ginny's smile faded a little at his reaction, and she shook her head. "Tell your mother that I would love to see them- but not today."

"No? My house elves can make chicken salad just the way you like it, and tea to die for-"

"Don't push your luck." Short, to the point, almost unfriendly. He shut his mouth quickly and nodded, smile forced. Her answering smile was genuine and mischievous at his quieting.

***

The Flannel Giraffe was a high-end cafe in the heart of Muggle London, crowded and brightly lit, like she requested. The two sat down by a window and Ginny instantly buried her face in the menu. Pale blond eyebrows rose but he said nothing. Grey eyes skimmed the list uninterestedly and glanced up to meet a chocolate gaze, which narrowed slightly and quickly returned to the menu. Her cheeks, he noticed with satisfaction, were tinged with pink. Not an ugly tomato color like that of her brothers, but more like a rose on creamy skin sprinkled with delicate freckles...

"May I take your order, miss?" A handsome waiter with a slight French accent and wavy brown hair appeared out of thin air to bother Draco. Ginny smiled at the intrusion and answered quietly in a voice too seductive for the words.

"I'll take a cup of Gypsy Rose tea, the chicken salad and maybe some fruit on the side?" She tilted her head up toward the handsome Frenchman but smirked at Draco. The waiter blinked at her tone of voice and stammered slightly before recovering.

"C-certainly, miss. Sugar? Cream?"

"Sugar." She enunciated each letter in a way that made both Draco and the poor waiter's pulse quicken just a tiny bit. What a little minx! Draco wondered where she learned to tease so.

"Draco?" Her smirk grew as she caught him off guard, still staring at her mouth.

"Um, let's see, what looks good today..." He struggled to recover, took a deep breath and read the first thing on the menu. "I'll take the, uh, buttered croissant with cheese and mustard."

Ginny's eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch as she turned her laugh into a quiet cough. "Interesting taste," she noted.

Draco smiled up at the waiter expectantly. He stopped staring at Ginny and walked quickly toward the kitchen. "Read any good books lately?" he prodded.

"Yes, actually, it's called Why the Hell Would You Be Interested In Me?" Draco frowned but took the bait.

"You've grown up, Weasley. I've grown up, and realized it's just not worth it."

"What's not worth it?" Now she was the one who looked confused.

"The teasing. Poking fun, sarcastic comments, the sneers and the petty lies. I never meant any of it, I've never hated you. I was just... pulling your hair."

"You mean you were a rotten little shit, but you've realized you won't just be given everything by mummy and daddy anymore?"

Draco gritted his teeth at the bluntness, but smiled in spite of himself and nodded. "I know I've been spoiled, to the core, but I'm turning over a new leaf, I'm-"

"Bullshit." She was no longer smiling. His eyes widened as he searched for words. She waited patiently as his expression turned to confusion and his mouth dropped.

"Excuse me?" he finally ground out.

"You know I work for the Daily Prophet, and I'm guessing you've figured out my penname. You can't be too happy with the way I've been reporting on your family for the past few months." She looked up at him, no trace of a smile in her delicate features. Draco's head was spinning. That was her?

Ginny's expression changed slowly, to embarrassment and shock that matched Draco's. "You didn't know?" she said incredulously.

"That was you." He spoke the words quietly, flatly, free of anger or any emotion. His eyes stared at a spot on the table and he turned his head away, still not meeting her eyes. He glanced up at the waiter carrying their food. Both looked in opposite directions uncomfortably. Ginny bit her lip and sighed deeply. Draco fidgeted. The waiter tried to catch Ginny's gaze hopefully, but she did not look at either man.

"Please, try the food so I can know whether it's okay or-"

"It's fine." Draco spat. The waiter stared but said nothing, and after a minute's pause, turned and walked away.

Ginny looked up to meet a steely gaze, and resumed biting her lip.

"How is your chicken salad? I hear that it's fabulous-" he spat the last word as she interrupted him.

"Draco, I'm sorry, but it's what I've seen and experienced myself with your family, I-"

"No, it's quite alright, you're absolutely dead-on about my father, but-

"I didn't realize you and your mother felt differently about-"

"There was no reason you would know, not ever actually interviewing me or my mother-

"It was lousy of me to assume you and your mum were the same way as your-"

" When would you ever have realized? I never gave you reason to believe we were anything but-"

" never meant to accuse-"

Both had stopped talking as quickly as the tirade of accusations and apologies had exploded. Both sat quiet for a minute, and then Ginny stood up suddenly.

"I'm dreadfully sorry," she said, and left.

Draco watched her leave, something falling in his chest, that he couldn't quite place. Something he never noticed before, a kind of thumping that faltered for a minute before restarting, much too loudly and quickly. Something he was aware of now, that felt out of place and not completely whole. He touched his neck directly above the broken beating and frowned after the silky material retreating through the door. After a few minutes, he left some Muggle money and walked out into the greying sunlight. The floaty blue dress was nowhere to be seen, and to Draco, the rest of the dully colored world came closing in quickly. He looked around, lost, closed his eyes, and Disapparated in the middle of Muggle London, not caring who saw.

***

Three minutes after his arrival at his flat, an owl flew through the window. He ignored it until it screeched and bit his finger rather harshly. He then untied the letter and shooed the owl back out the window.

Mister Draco Arion Malfoy,

I regret to tell you that at 12:27 p.m. on Thursday, the 22nd of May, you Disapparated in the middle of MUGGLE LONDON, breaking the Statute of Secrecy by revealing your magic to no fewer than 57 Muggles, all of whom needed to be Obliviated immediately following your careless actions. You will report to the Ministry of Magic promptly at 5:30 a.m. tomorrow, Friday the 23rd of May for a disciplinary hearing in Courtroom 516, where your punishment will be decided. Residing over your case will be Judge Linticus Sidgewepper, Order of Merlin, Second Class. It is advised that you arrive promptly, half an hour before your hearing, and you are required to stay until the session is over. Failure to do so will warrent your arrest and deportation to the Prison of Azkaban, heavy fines, and seizure of personal items.
Thank you for your cooperation,

Didot Edward Fortwright


Draco's eyes narrowed as he crumpled the paper angrily in his hand. His breathing was heavy and he felt like hitting something. How could he have been so stupid? Of course it was that little bint, writing for the Prophet! He had seen some of her writing back at Hogwarts, she had done a few pieces for the Hogwarts Tribune and he was familiar with her writing style. Now that he thought more about it, the sarcastic, biting remarks about his family had always sounded familiar, but he could never place- or was it that he could never bear to place the voice it belonged to? Come to think of it, he remembered when the youngest Weasley received the well-respected job over Hermione Granger, a huge deal at the time, Granger being the top of her class and all. He had been too blind to make the connection. Blinded? By what, he wondered. By... he could not think of the words to fit. He balled the paper and threw it in the rubbish, where it neatly uncrinkled itself and flew up to rest on his bulletin board beside his calendar.

"Incendio!" he shouted, pointing at it. The bulletin board caught fire, but the letter remained attached to his wall, the words fading into red. Draco sighed and sat down hard on his sofa.

***
At five in the morning on May 23rd, Draco awoke to an owl angrily pecking his nose. He pushed it away groggily, and it went for his eye.

"What in Merlin's pants do you think you're doing?!" he yelled. The owl squawked indignantly and continued to fly around Draco's head.

"All right, all right, I'm up!" He looked at the time, swore, and pulled on a dressing gown. Now he no longer had time to take a bath, trim his hair, have coffee, or have his shoes polished like he usually did in his morning routine. Then again, he usually went to work at seven, not five-thirty. Draco pulled on smart black robes and self-polishing black dress shoes, grabbed his wand from the bedside table, paused to give the brooding owl a good death glare, and made his way to the Floo.

He arrived at the Ministry of Magic at five-seventeen, which was not advisable, in a sour mood, with purple rings around his eyes. In fact, no one had ever seen him look quite so miserable and less put-together before. All around the Ministry, passers-by were giving him odd looks, and it was not improving his mood one bit.

Courtroom 516 was rather shabby, but lacked any torturous-looking devices, so Draco's mood lifted a little.

"Mister Draco Malfoy?" said a booming voice. Draco sat down in the chair in the middle of the room, relieved when it did not chain his arms to the armrests, and nodded tiredly.

"Mister Malfoy, you are aware of the Statute of Secrecy?" came the voice again. Draco didn't bother to look for the source, but instead closed his eyes and nodded, rolling his eyes behind the lids.

"And so you know that it is against Wizarding Law to Disapparate, or perform magic in front of manticores?"

Draco frowned at this jumbled message, but figured he was imagining things, and nodded again, eyes still closed.

"And yet you chose to Disapparate in front of 56-"

"57," piped up a snotty voice. Draco's eyes snapped open and he eyed Percy Weasley, sitting next to the judge, Linticus, glasses perched on the tip of his nose, pen scribbling furiously.

"Ah yes, it does say here, 57 manticores," corrected the judge, whose small spectacles were also perched precariously on his nose.

"Muggles, not... manticores," piped up Percy again.

"Not manticores? Hmm, well, we have a completely different case on our hands then!" whooped the judge. Draco continued to frown, grey eyes now roaming the stands suspiciously, mirrored by other confused looks.

"Mister Malfoy, it is my understanding that you disappreciated 576 manticores in the middle of a mudpuddle in Lone Dune. Is this correct?" The judges eyes were wild behind the spectacles as he leaned forward menacingly. Draco frowned deeper this time, and shook his head.

"No, I, uh, that's not at all what happened!" he tried to correct the judge, but Linticus called for silence with a rap of his hand on the desk. His fist pounded right into a cup of steaming tea, which shattered and spilled all over Percy and the three nearest people, thankfully not including Draco. The room stared as Percy and the three witches sputtered and shook out their robes. The judge's menacing look did not abate, but instead grew more stern.

"This is very serious. I'm not sure where you obtained 5990 manticores, Mister Margadoy, but they are very dangerous to society, and not at all native to Lithuania. I'm afraid we need to take immediate action against the spreading of the manticores, as it is easy for them to migrate now to Albania and nearby countries that are now all in danger! Wheelsey," he said, referring to a sopping wet and glaring Percy, "take him into custody of the Dementors! He must be stopped!"

Draco, who had stood up, was now backing up, away from the judge, who had turned purple in his urgency to try to arrest Draco.

Percy looked worred.

"Judge Sidgewepper, I think you're sorely mistaken, this isn't Mister Margadoy, and there are no manticores-"

"MANTICORES?! Where?" The judge was now positively wild and thrashing, attempting an escape from the supposed manticores. Draco stood and watched as four Healers came from the sides of the courtroom and quietly Stunned the poor, confused Linticus Sidgewepper.

"I'm terribly sorry, Mister Malfoy, but we will need to reschedule," hollered Percy over the noise of a now distressed courtroom. "You are dismissed for now, and will be contacted in a matter of hours!"

The small purple door leading to the outside corridor opened and Draco took the opportunity to walk brusquely away from the scene, still deeply confused.

***

Draco took the precaution of making sure he was in a specified Apparition area before Disapparating directly back into his flat. Sure enough, waiting there was an owl. He sighed and walked over to take the letter. This owl, however, did not move once de-lettered, but instead awaited a reply. Draco frowned and opened the letter.

Malfoy,

I don't really know what to say. There isn't much I can say, except, I'm dreadfully sorry. It was.... cursory of me not to interview you and your mother before releasing the series of articles concerning you, your mother, and your father. While you are right to point out that I did not interview you or your mother, I did use information procured from your father, who I did interview in Azkaban. I do not know how to ask for forgiveness concerning the actions I took against you and your mother, it was very wrong of me to assume your opinions on those matters. Can I make it up to you? I would love to interview you and your mother and set matters right to the public. If you would, arrange a time to meet and I can write and article on whatever issues the two of you would like to discuss in the Prophet. Please let me know of your decision, my owl Apollo awaits your reply.
Once again, terribly sorry,

Ginevra Weasley


Draco stared at the letter for quite some time before carefully constructing a reply, not bothering even to sign it before attaching it carelessly to Apollo's leg.

Weasley,

There isn't much you can say to right matters at this point.


After the owl had flown off, Draco sat down tiredly on his sofa. He missed work, and would most likely have to miss it again tomorrow. He didn't care the slightest, but he knew his boss would. Maybe it was time to find a different job. Or travel. He didn't need the money, but life was so dull without something to do all day, and he had long tired of the high society balls and teas and fund-raisers and such that his mother lived for.

Sure enough, not a minute later, an official Ministry owl flew through the open window that Apollo had left through, carrying another unburnable letter.

Mister Draco Arion Malfoy,

I apologize for the misfortune that occurred at 5:42 on the 23rd of May, when it seems, Judge Linticus Sidgewepper collapsed in a fit of fear from the nonpresent manticores. I regret to tell you that you must still face the consequences for breaking the Statute of Secrecy, and will be expected to report to the Ministry of Magic promptly at 7:30 a.m. tomorrow, Saturday the 24th of May for another disciplinary hearing in Courtroom 320, where your punishment will be re-evaluated. Residing over your case will be Judge Lorna Hapfeather, who is in perfect mental health, has no illogical phobias, and has just retuned from a relaxing trip to Majorca. It is once again advised that you arrive half an hour before your hearing, and you are required to stay until the session is over. Failure to do so will warrent your arrest and deportation to the Prison of Azkaban, heavy fines, and seizure of personal items.
Thank you for your cooperation,

Didot Edward Fortwright


Draco shook his head and left the letter on the kitchen table this time. He went to the kitchen to make himself a hearty panino when Apollo the dwarf owl attacked his right ear.

"Stop it, stop it! Get away from me, Apollo, there's no need to-" He shrieked after receiving a particularly painful nip in the elbow, and grabbed the little owl by the leg, untying the letter with a little more force than necessary. He put the owl down as soon as he got the letter off, and backed away immediately.

Draco, Malfoy, you prat


I apologized, and you throw it back in my face! Maybe I was right about the opinions I expressed in the Prophet! You really are a spoiled brat who only thinks of himself and gaining a monopoly over the industry. But don't you think your mother deserves a chance to tell her opinions in the paper? Or do you decide her opinions too? Let me get an interview with her, and I'll leave you both alone, she can even see the article before it's published. That is what this is about, isn't it? Your differing opinions from that of Lucius? Because all I see right now is the selfish little shit I knew at Hogwarts, who never cared about hurting others- you're only hurting your mother and her public image with this. I'm willing to reconsider my articles, and all you do is throw a temper tantrum. Well, have it your way, or let your mother remake her image.

Remember, this isn't about just you. Narcissa Black had a life before she had you.

Ginevra


Somehow using Narcissa's full maiden name made the situation a lot worse. She was right; Narcissa wasn't just Narcissa Malfoy, obediant trophy wife of Lucius Malfoy and caring mother to Draco- she was Narcissa Ceres Black Malfoy, attractive blonde, head of numerous charities, Holyhead Harpies fan, top 4% of her graduating class at Hogwarts. He sighed. When Ginny put it like that, he couldn't help but give in. He penned a quick note to his mother, sent it off with his Burmese owl, Stanley, and then wrote a longer, slightly more polite reply to Miss Ginevra Weasley.

Weasley,

You're entirely right. Completely correct. One hundred percent accurate. My mother does deserve another chance, and I have written to her explaining the situation. She will hopefully return the owl in reply to you, and you may make arrangements with her to meet.
Thank you for your much appreciated cooperation,
Yours truly,

Draco Arion Malfoy


He knew that the letter was immature, sarcastic, and petty, but at this point his mood was so far gone out the window, that he didn't care what the little slag thought anymore. At least this way, Narcissa could work out her own schedule to meet Ginny, and he himself would not have to see her again.

***
Draco arose early the next morning to his alarm at six-thirty, which was preferable to a nipping owl half an hour before the trial. He had time to take his morning bath, drink coffee, polish his shoes, and iron his socks, and he even had time to stop at a small bakery to buy a cinnamon bun, which was quite tasty.

Despite Draco's full morning and delicious cinnamon bun, he walked into Courtroom 320 quite cross, and took his seat, this time with a musty purple cushion. Lorna Hapfeather was an attractive young witch in her early 30s, with whom Draco might normally have flirted to get out of his sticky situation, but not today. His sulked and waited for the hearing to start.

"Draco Arion Malfoy, age twenty-two, would you please stand up?" Lorna had a clear, powerful voice and a stern gaze. Draco hesitated, then stood.

"We would like to issue a formal apology for the... unfortunate occurrence with Judge Sidgwepper yesterday. I understand it might have been traumatizing for you, and unfair to call you here a second day in a row for such a minor misdemeanor."

Draco did not know quite how to respond, so he nodded politely and waited for her to continue.

"We have read more thoroughly through your file and have come to the conclusion that your carelessness, however undesirable, were provoked through the unfair reports that a certain Miss Ginevra Weasley has released about you and your mother, causing you to forget momentarily, that you were surrounded by Muggles. Is this correct?"

Draco stared. How did they find out all of this? He came to his senses a half second later, and nodded.

"Your vocal consent, to bind this formal report is required, Mister Malfoy," she pushed.

"Yes, ma'am, that is indeed what happened, and I will certainly insure that it will not happen again in the future."

"It had better not, because there will be much more serious consequences if this happens again, Mister Malfoy. You are free to leave."
The small purple door opened again of its own accord, this time seemingly more cheerfully, and Draco stepped through, relieved. He checked his watch. Barely 8 o'clock. Still time for morning tea with his mother, to tell her the good news and discuss their options concerning the upcoming article. He Flooed directly to Malfoy Manor, where he decided to roam about the gardens for a few minutes to check on the roses. They were especially beautiful this time of year, as Draco remembered, and always reminded him of simpler times, when Lucius was Father, not a convict and Nacissa was Mother, and the house elves attended to his every need.

***
The first thing he noticed was the color. Bright orange. Garish, he thought. He only ever remembered there being red, pink, white, and the occasional yellow roses, but these orange ones were taking over the garden!

The second thing he noticed was Fontina, their albino peacock, standing peacefully under the small archway covered in roses.

"Fontina, who let you out? This isn't your part of the garden, is it? Don't you want to be with Gregory?"

Fontina let out a long cry at the mention of her mate, and followed Draco in through the hedge doorway, which closed up behind her. Draco then went around to the back entrance, only to be thwarted by more orange. A small but strongly built witch with orange hair was infiltrating Draco's garden. And laughing, loudly along with the older blonde witch sitting across from her. Both women wore soft pastel sundresses that caught the morning sunlight. Ginny's dress was a cottony pale blue, almost identical to the one she had been wearing in the Flannel Giraffe. Narcissa wore a light green dress of similar material and was laughing like Draco had never seen before. He cleared his throat and both females looked up.

"Draco!" beamed Narcissa. "I thought you had a hearing? What happened?"

"They said they understood my motive... that someone had been writing nasty, untrue articles about me and you, and that I couldn't be held accountable for my actions in that moment." He looked, not at his mother as he said this, but at the small witch with her head down who was avoiding his gaze.

"Well, now, all is well!" said Narcissa. "We've just had a lovely time discussing a new article, with an apologetic angle and the truth about how I really feel about all these matters."

"Bull. Shit." Draco made sure to use the exact word that Ginny had used when she ambushed him before.

"Draco! Language!" cried Narcissa.

"Oh come on, Mother, I've heard you use worse!"

"I'm asking you nicely, to please watch your language in front of guests," insisted Narcissa sternly.

"Guest?! She's no guest! Did you read the articles she wrote? You think an apologetic angle is going to fix the damage she's done to our name?"

"Yes, I do," said Narcissa forcefully. "Ginny's doing a three page spread, explaining her penname, this interview, my opinions on the issues she miscommunicated, and a little about what I do every day to help charity. Yes, I do think that this will help, and I think you should take Ginny's generous offer." Steely grey met steely grey, and Draco's eyes narrowed at Ginny.

"What generous offer?"

"I can include you in the spread, or give you your own. You can say whatever you like. No one knows you, Draco, no one knows what you've done for charity, how much work you've been putting into your medical experiments. You've helped hundreds of witches and wizards at St. Mungo's and you're not even taking credit! Your mum told me all about it."

Now it was Draco's turn to blush and look down at his feet. Fontina came up behind him and nudged his ankle encouragingly. He sighed.

"That's the whole point of charity. No one's supposed to know I'm behind all that. I don't want to go commercial, I just want to help quietly."

"It already is commercial, Draco. You have an entire business. The only difference is that you're not making any profit- you're paying them out of your pocket! That's incredibly selfless! Why didn't you tell me this, when I called you a selfish brat, who only thought about himself? Why didn't you tell me off?" Ginny had stood up and was now standing very close to him, her voice getting softer and softer with each word. Narcissa had subtly slipped away, followed by Fontina, and the two bickering old schoolmates were left alone.

Draco stared at the worried wrinkle in Ginny's forehead and fought the sudden impulse to kiss it away. He shook his head. "I changed, Ginny, I don't need all that attention anymore. I don't need to be liked and feared by everyone. I'm not a bully anymore. Never really was, I just did it so my father would approve. But he's gone now. No one noticed the change, that's all. Everyone saw what they wanted to see, and when you wrote those.... articles... they just believed what they wanted to believe. Maybe right out of Hogwarts, those articles could have been true. But the reason I did all of that medical work, was not to gain attention or approval. I honestly wanted to help people."

He looked up to find Ginny much too close. He could see every freckle, could see that her eyes were really a mix of green and hazel and not brown at all. He could see how small and delicate she was, how well she would fit into his arms, and suddenly, he could feel just how well her lips fit with his.

"I hope you don't mind I was recording that little speech, because everyone should know just how generous and good you really are," she whispered. Draco laughed.

FIN