"Oh, how sweet the irony," Daphne muttered rather spitefully to herself, wiping the table surface with a cloth.

Of course, Daphne hadn't counted on the Second War happening and ending so soon, and with it any hope of retaining more than thirty percent of her parents' riches. And of course, half of that had gone to her sister, who hadn't actually needed it – not when she was marrying into the wealthiest family in Britain, which hadn't suffered quite as much as the rest of the pure-blood elite when its heir was cleared of most charges by a testimony provided by the Boy-Who-Lived himself.

Suddenly, the bell she'd installed above the door tinkled merrily, and Daphne turned to see who it was.

Speak of the devil.

"Good evening, sister dear," chirped Astoria Malfoy (née Greengrass, Daphne shrieked inwardly, Greengrass!). She took off her white, silk gloves with a flourish and looked up at her husband adoringly. "It is a rather lovely evening, don't you agree, Draco?"

Draco's eyes swiftly flicked around the room before settling back on Astoria. "Indeed," he replied obediently, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Quite the establishment you have here, Daphne. How did you ever come by it?"

Daphne gritted her teeth at his ever-so-slightly sneering tone.

Astoria waved her hand nonchalantly. "Oh, I lent her a few Galleons, helped set it up a bit. Honestly, Daphne, things would be so much easier if you hadn't insisted on doing everything the Muggle way!"

"The clean way," Daphne corrected her. "The safer way. It's only been seven years after... Well, do you really expect me to be taking risks at this point?"

Draco nodded, as if respecting her decision, and she felt some of the tension ebb away. Astoria still looked unconvinced.

"If you say so," she said, and turned to Draco. "You wouldn't mind terribly to sit somewhere and wait, would you, Draco? I'm afraid our female chatter might bore you too much." In reply, Draco landed a small kiss at the top of her blonde tresses, and as he stalked away to examine the layout of the building, Astoria sighed. "I'm so lucky to have married him, don't you think, Daphne?"

Daphne pulled a chair towards her and sat down, gesturing for Astoria to do the same. Astoria raised an eyebrow and chose to conjure up a small armchair instead. "You seem to have settled well. How was the courting?"

"Dreamy," Astoria breathed, and it was as if they had never spent six years apart. "Unlike anything I've ever felt. Just like a storybook romance, but even better, because it's real." She twirled a lock of her hair, a girlish habit of hers. "And these two years have been so smooth – I almost said no when he proposed, because everyone says that the real problems come after marriage, but we've never had a single argument, not even once."

Daphne cocked an eyebrow at her. It felt like they were still two teenage sisters gossiping over hair ribbons and nail polish, and she tried not to feel too pleased. "Really."

"Daphne!" Astoria exclaimed. "We're both perfectionists. We have the same taste in nearly everything... We both even have our steaks rare! It's as if we were made for each other!"

She was quite obviously ignoring Daphne's sceptical expression. "Right, of course." She paused when Astoria shot her a look, and then casually asked, "So what brings you to Muggle London? Here to take in the sights, have you?"

Astoria's eyes glinted for a second, and Daphne realized yet again why she had been sorted into Slytherin during her Hogwarts years. "My investment, of course," replied Astoria, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Why else would I be here? Perhaps... to visit my sister –" her dainty, gloveless fingers fisted her turquoise robes, "– who, of all things, has decided to estrange herself among Muggles, even going so far as to open a Muggle establishment?"

Daphne met her stare head-on. "It's profitable," she replied, undeterred by the intended insult. "Considering my current social status in the Wizarding world – any pure-bloods' social status – it's almost twice as likely for me to be able to live comfortably here than if I had opened in Diagon Alley. And besides, haven't you seen the currency exchange rate?"

It sounded well-rehearsed, and Daphne knew that Astoria thought the same.

Astoria faintly smiled. "I can see why Daddy let you help him with his finances," she commented. Daphne lazily took out her wand and summoned two goblets and a bottle of wine, which uncorked itself and poured its contents into both goblets. Astoria picked one and sipped. "Good wine you've got. Anyway, tell me – how did you do the first week?"

"As well as one with a small and under-advertised café could hope for, I suppose." Daphne downed all her drink at once, and remembered something. "Though – oh, that feels good – there was this one crazy woman who stormed in during rush hour, demanding," she chuckled at the memory, "where her café had gone. Since she wasn't that pudgy ball of an owner, I suppose she was a customer... But oh, Astoria, it was quite the sight. Her red hair – red, Astoria! There was a reason Mum hated that awful auburn colour – was flying all about her head, and the disbelief on her face! I've never seen freckles so obvious before!"

Daphne noticed from the corner of her eye that Draco, who had moved on from the curtains to the counter, was standing too still.

"Anyway, I explained the situation to her. She looked like I'd just drowned a kitten, and guess what she said? She said," Daphne snorted, "that she supposed 'things could be worse and I could be a cat'. Interesting humour, don't you think? Of all the things to say!" Astoria gave a little titter. Daphne chanced a look sideways at Draco.

"Mum would have detested her," Astoria remarked, taking another sip of her wine. "Uncontrollable outburst, red hair, and... did you say freckles? Yes? It's unlikely that she's anything except a filthy Muggle, of course, in these parts... But she does remind me so of the Wea–"

"Astoria, dear," Draco cut in, crossing the room in a mere few strides, "I hate to interrupt, but don't you think it's quite late already? You know Mother said not to be gone too long."

Worry breezed over Astoria's face. "Oh, yes, of course," she agreed, wide-eyed. "I've completely forgotten... I'm sorry, Daphne, for the short visit. If perhaps we could talk some other time...?"

If Daphne felt pleased before, she was outright proud now. "Certainly," she replied, somewhat demurely. "In fact, how about tomorrow evening? I actually asked the woman to come by tomorrow after working hours if she could – free advertising, you know, never pass it up – and if she does turn up, I'll have plenty to tell you about then."

Astoria smiled prettily as she put her gloves back on. "Lovely, then." The couple Disapparated, but not before Daphne caught the expression on Draco's face.

Two birds with one stone.

Ginny sighed wearily as she closed the door, unwrapping her scarf, and promptly collapsed on the couch – it had been a long day, not that the pile of work on her desk cared much in way of that. As a result, she was steadily working more hours every day, losing precious sleep, and right now she was more than ready to let herself drift off to the land of dreaming.

But the sudden glow in her fireplace and a voice tentatively calling, "Ginny?" cut her brief bliss short and her eyes startled open. Cursing quietly, she turned around and peeked out from the back of her couch, trying to look as dignified as possible.

"Oh, it's you," she said, as coolly as she could, when she saw exactly whose head it was floating in green, and felt a certain spiteful pride at her own tone. "It's late. What do you need?"

Whatever hesitance might have lingered was immediately gone from Dean's face. "Your presence, for the annual general meeting." A small, white card, embossed with 'You are cordially invited...' flew from the fire and landed on the rug, slightly singed. "I'm your boss, Ginny. Whatever problems we have against each other, I still have to make sure you uphold your work reputation."

"You mean yours, don't you, Dean?" she replied, with a touch of acid. She glanced at the invitation rather dismissively, and told him, "Look, I'll be there, but don't think that I'll even pretend to like you." In response, Dean gave a heavily exaggerated eye roll, and told her to suit herself before disappearing as the green flames did.

Her previous weariness grew as she snatched the invitation from the floor and threw it on the tabletop. She sighed, grabbing her scarf and rewrapping it haphazardly around her neck, and stalked out of her apartment. She didn't feel much like sleeping anymore – the glossy white card had erased most of that, and Dean had done the rest. It wasn't like Ginny had never been to the annual general meeting before, but being expected and formally invited to attend were two vastly different things.

Ginny pondered this as she walked the streets of London. Her mother especially had kicked up quite the fuss when she announced her decision to move, but eventually made peace with it. London teemed with Muggles and wizards alike, and Ginny was secretly glad of the occasional chance to escape from the world she had been raised in all her life.

Deciding to think of that instead, she definitely felt a lot better when she entered a café, and spotted the slender brunette she'd encountered yesterday. "Excuse me," she began somewhat hesitantly. "I believe I was expected to be here."

The brunette turned around and gave her a slight smile. "Of course. I'm glad you came." There was something in her tone that made Ginny uncomfortable, but she shrugged it off and took a nearby seat when she was invited to, and was surprised to see that the other woman had opted to stand and lean against the opposite chair instead.

Each assessed the other for a few seconds, and Ginny suddenly remembered why she'd chosen to show up after all. "I'm sorry for the way I behaved yesterday," she admitted, pushing a lock of stray hair behind her ear, a nervous habit.

The woman – the new owner of the premises, as Ginny had been told – waved it off. "It was understandable. You were upset that I'd taken something that used to be yours."

The redhead blinked. "I was upset," she agreed slowly, "but it wasn't even as if I owned the place, so I still had – have – no excuse. I certainly wasn't raised to be that way."

The brunette smiled a little lopsidedly, and Ginny thought she looked rather familiar. "Indeed. Well," she said, straightening up and eyes glittering azure, "let bygones be bygones. I'll even serve up our soup du jour, which, I've just been told, is positively mouth-watering."

Ginny had to laugh. "I've certainly never been one to waste perfectly good food." She smiled. "I'd love that, thank you. And–" She stuck out her hand. "I'm Ginny, by the way."

The woman looked a little surprised and confused, but ultimately seemed to decide to grasp her hand firmly. "Daphne," she replied with the same lopsided smile. "Pleasure."

Daphne gave her a small nod, taking back her hand a bit too quickly, and excused herself to get a bowl of the aforementioned soup. Ginny waited patiently and less than a minute later, a porcelain bowl and a spoon was set in front of her with a clink.

"Bon appétit," Daphne said, and watched as Ginny took a small taste, and then began to eat with relish.

"This is quite good," she remarked, inspecting the soup interestedly. "What's in it?" She realised too late that what she had asked could have been construed as rude, but Daphne, who merely smirked at the question – Merlin's pointed shoes, why did that smirk seem so familiar? – met her gaze straight on. Ginny rather felt like cornered prey, but couldn't tear her eyes away.

"I'll give you the whole recipe," replied Daphne, "on one condition." She finally sat down, and leaned over her arms towards Ginny. "You like this place, yes?"

A little bewildered, Ginny answered curiously, "Yes, but why?"

Daphne ignored her question and posed another one of hers. "And – truthfully, please – do you think this café has business potential?"

Ginny was starting to get irritated by this woman. "I do," she replied warily, "but what does that have to do with anything?"

"I have a proposal for you," Daphne answered her this time, the previous glitter returning to her eyes. "What do you think of a partnership?"

The spoon clattered against the porcelain of the bowl. "W-what?" Ginny stuttered. "A partnership? As in, a business partnership?"

Resting her cheek on her hand, Daphne laughed and said, "Yes, with me. How would you like to run a café together?" Ginny spluttered and gaped, but she was saved from replying when the doorbell chimed and a blonde man walked in confidently.

"Daphne," the man greeted distractedly, resting his tailored coat on the rack beside the door. "Astoria couldn't make it – mother's been awfully lonely, I suppose – but she sends her regards–" He stopped abruptly, his arm hanging awkwardly by the coat rack, having apparently spotted Ginny's presence.

"Oh, hello, Draco." Daphne's voice was like the purr of the cat who had gotten hold of the canary. "Have you met my new business partner?"

Draco Malfoy's gaze was hard and unbelieving, his voice sounding grim. "Weasley."

Ginny stood up immediately, her eyes wide. "Draco?"

Daphne couldn't help but allow herself a small smile, which even to her seemed a little too ecstatic. She looked back at Ginny, giving her another once-over. "I suppose you're not a Muggle, then, if Draco cares to remember you."

The girl flushed, seeming more than a little affronted. "I'm not a Muggle," she replied indignantly. "I'm Ginny Weasley!"

Daphne nodded, and rested her head on her arms. "Draco's just told me as much."

"Daphne," came the warning from Draco's direction.

She ignored it, and continued almost gleefully. "Why do you know her, Draco?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious, but Daphne knew that Draco could discern the faint undertones of mockery in her voice. "Perhaps you're not quite the person my sister seems to think she knows."

Draco's eyes narrowed, his grip on the coat tightening, and Daphne curled her lips – she knew she was finally getting under his skin, and she relished every moment.

Until Ginny Weasley ruined it for her, at least.

"I suppose you must be Daphne Greengrass, then, if you know Draco," she remarked, tilting her head to one side. "But then again, maybe you're not quite the person your sister thinks she knows, either, if you're going around shaking hands with Muggles…" Her smile turned slightly mischievous. "Or who you think are Muggles."

Daphne saw Draco relax, and she glared dully at the Weasley. "My sister knows nothing of me," she hissed, and Daphne almost let the gravity of her own words unsettle her. Her figurative feathers gradually returned to their unruffled state. "The littlest weasel has claws, after all. Not bad."

"Your information is obviously a bit outdated," Ginny threw back, eating another spoonful of the soup. "I'm no longer the littlest, I'm afraid."

"Not bad at all," Daphne surmised appreciatively. "Did you teach her, Draco?"

The woman in question snorted before the Malfoy could even open his mouth.

"And that," began the brunette, smirking, "shows exactly what she thinks of you." She turned back to Ginny, and although she hadn't gotten a definitive one, Daphne already knew Ginny's answer to her offer. "I think we'll have a splendid time, don't you?"

Ginny briefly grinned at her before turning to look at Draco. "Your sister's husband, if I'm not mistaken?" she asked quietly, but didn't turn back for an answer when Daphne gave none. Instead, she strode up to the blond, her eyes locked on his face.

"How have you been?"

Taken aback by the random question, Draco replied cautiously, "Well."

Neither he nor Daphne could have anticipated the stinging slap that followed.

Ginny smiled with satisfaction. "That was seven years overdue." She faced Daphne, ignoring Draco's pained grunts, and when she next spoke, her voice had taken on a business-like tone. "I'm interested in this partnership, Miss Greengrass. If you can have the terms outlined by tomorrow, I'll see what I can do in a week. Do we have a deal?"

Daphne grinned in response, and Ginny was gone with a cheerful pop.

"Feisty one, isn’t she?" Daphne snickered as she gathered the used tableware. Draco stared intently at the spot where Ginny had Disapparated, and then froze, turning to Daphne.

"What do you think you're playing at?"

"I am playing nothing," came her confident answer.

Draco all but growled. "It's best to leave sleeping dogs lie, Daphne," he said, quite coldly. "Else you might find yourself running from several sets of canine jaws."

Daphne cast him an amused look. "If that happens, Draco, I wouldn't be the one doing the running."

That morning, Ginny had caused quite an incident in her workplace when she threw down her invitation, along with a resignation form, on the desk of her superior, proclaiming quite clearly, "I am done with you," before stalking off and making a dramatic exit. She left behind a stunned Dean Thomas, several mortified coworkers and a few who secretly rejoiced, having coveted her position for themselves. All in all, very satisfying results.

Ginny giggled to herself as she imagined how Dean would try to explain his department's incomplete attendance at the meeting, what with her resignation too close to the event for him to have enough time to find someone else to promote.

She'd kept corresponding with Daphne over the last few days, negotiating the terms of their agreement, and had taken to taking over work at the café every other day. In the beginning, she’d had some trouble in exchanging Muggle currency at the speed and frequency she needed to have, but several after-hours with Daphne quickly remedied her problem. Unsurprisingly, she grew to like her job in the café – the warm smell of the kitchen reminded her fondly of the Burrow, but her non-Wizarding surroundings proved to be effective in preventing her from feeling too homesick.

The café itself attracted a considerable number of customers (especially during lunch hour. Merlin, her feet hurt from all that rushing around) and as such generated a fair amount of revenue. Ginny knew that Daphne liked to rub their success in her sister's face whenever she dropped by after working hours.

With Draco.

The hand that was manually washing dishes paused. She hadn't seen Draco since she'd greeted him rather enthusiastically with the palm of her hand. She supposed he would have been reluctant to have anything to do with her after that, but in that case… it wasn't like the past seven years was anything but reluctant.

Ginny started scrubbing particularly violently, as if all her life's problems would be solved by mistreating crockery.

A small giggle, with a hint of a snicker, came from the kitchen hallway and she jumped, whipping her head to the side to see who it was.

A willowy blonde, wearing a facial expression that reminded her of Daphne, stood with regality, one gloved hand raised to primly cover her smiling mouth. When Ginny saw she was wearing witch robes, she shot an alarmed glance at the clock and was relieved to remember that she had closed up shop precisely an hour ago.

"Don't worry," a soprano voice floated from the blonde. "Even if any Muggles were to come in here, it would be a tragic overestimation on your part to assume that they, of all, could understand what we are."

Ginny's eyes narrowed at her. "May I help you?" She felt her back stiffen in response when the woman chose to ignore her and move closer.

"You must be Daphne's new partner," she said off-handedly. "Draco's told me of you. I must say, I'm a bit surprised." She did not continue to say why, but then sniffed, "Astoria Malfoy, if you please."

Deep in the back of her mind, Ginny was amused, and although she had expected no less of someone who was Daphne's sister and the current Malfoy spouse, Astoria's holier-than-thou manner still annoyed her. "I see," she replied, and she was pleased to note that Astoria, in turn, looked irked at her dismissive tone. "Ginny Weasley, but you already knew that, I suppose."

Instead of the annoyed reaction Ginny was fishing for, the pale-haired woman raised both of her eyebrows. "Really, now," she remarked, almost to herself.

Wiping her hands on her apron, Ginny could feel the shape of her wand through the cloth and was reassured. "Is there something wrong?"

Astoria took on a thoughtful expression. "Pardon me, it's just…" She glanced sideways at Ginny, who was getting increasingly uncomfortable by each minute. "You're really a Weasley."

"Born and bred." Ginny couldn't help but bristle. She added, just for the heck of it, "Proudly, too." What are you trying to imply?

"Draco knows you," Astoria carefully enunciated. "From the way he's spoken of you, at the very least, you're a good acquaintance of his… I just can't understand–" She stopped, her face suddenly taut and withdrawn.

"Yes?" Ginny asked impatiently. She had no idea what this woman wanted, and she wanted to be done with the dishes before the next hour.

Astoria looked sharply at her. "What were you to him?"

"Ex– excuse me?"

"I will not stand for… for anything inappropriate, you understand?" Her voice cut like hissed ice. The abrupt change of manner confused Ginny as to what was happening, but her hand strayed to her pocketed wand nonetheless. "Draco is mine, and I'd appreciate it if–"

Understanding dawned on Ginny's face and she quickly interrupted, horrified. "What exactly do you think we are?"

"I don't know who you are, or why you're suddenly here," began Astoria, narrowing her eyes, "But I am giving you only one warning. If I hear about any untoward advances on my husband…"

Neither Draco nor Daphne must have told her about Ginny slapping Draco. "We were friends at school, nothing more," she replied coldly to Astoria. "I haven't seen Draco since last week and, unless you also expressly forbid your husband from visiting your sister, I don't doubt I'll be seeing him soon."

She saw, with some satisfaction, that Astoria was just short of openly baring her teeth.

"I'm sure you understand my situation," the former Greengrass almost spat. "I am his wife."

Ginny waved her hand with a gesture that, for some odd reason, comforted her. "And you have a responsibility to each other, and all that. Be that as it may," she paused, glaring at the other woman, "I don't take well to threats."

There was a tense pause, and then Astoria seemed to deflate slightly. She nodded in Ginny's direction. "I think it is best that I leave you, or we'll start hexing each other like little schoolgirls." She hesitated, then gritted out a polite, "Good evening," before thankfully walking out the door instead of Disapparating.

It was then Ginny wondered why she chose not to mention the fact that she hadn't spoken a single word to Draco in seven years to his jealous wife.

"All right there, Weasley?" Daphne called from the living room the moment Ginny stomped inside her apartment, startling her.

"How did you get here?" Ginny demanded, frozen stiff at the door.

"You might want to put better wards around your apartment, darling." Daphne walked out to greet her with a steaming cup of tea. "An untrained owl could track this place down and get in." She held out the tea as a peace offering. Never mind that it was already her partner's tea in the first place, having taken the brew from the apartment kitchen.

"Thank you," said Ginny, not sounding very thankful at all. She took the tea from Daphne and downed it, kicking the door shut behind her. "Also," she began, wincing at the scalding heat she poured down her throat, "please call off your sister."

Daphne sat on the lumpy couch and raised an eyebrow at her.

"It's true," the upset witch insisted, plopping down ungracefully beside Daphne. "She's convinced Draco and I are having an affair, but how could we have, if the last and only time we met in the past eight years was last week?"

The rest of Ginny's rant she tuned out, opting instead to sit back quietly and ponder the interesting development her hands brought about.

"And Daphne," Ginny began abruptly, looking cautious, "you didn't tell Astoria about me, um, slapping Draco?"

Daphne suddenly felt a lot more cheerful. "I didn't."

Ginny sighed and, elbows on her knees, held her head. "I see."

Daphne looked at her curiously. "Do you?"

She received a glare in return. "No, I don't."

Then Ginny seemed to be confused as to what they were actually talking about, and Daphne laughed self-indulgently.

Ginny looked resigned. "Get out of my apartment, Greengrass."

Yours, Ginny

"So," Daphne began, casually skimming her luxurious surrounding, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I suppose I might have gone a bit too far," said Astoria, contemplating the restaurant. She paused to nod at the maître'd. "But what's done is done, so there's no use whining about it."

"Hardly," snorted the brunette, her eyes sparkling as red wine was poured into her goblet. Her fingers toyed with the glass stem. "If anything, I only wanted–" she held up her glass, "–to wine about it, if you please."

Astoria made a face. "That was truly horrible." She held up her own glass, and proposed, "A toast?"

Daphne nodded. "To us," she said, and they drank.

There was a brief silence where each scrutinized their cutlery, but the elder Greengrass broke it. "Really, Astoria," she drawled. "Subtlety was never quite your specialty. What was so important that you had to bribe me with wine?"

Astoria looked at Daphne. "Your business partner," she stated quietly. "And… Draco."

Something pulled at her sister's lips. "Ah, yes," Daphne remarked. "I was wondering, myself."

"Daphne?" Astoria prompted, and the woman addressed felt uncertain.

"I'm not sure," she began slowly. "She slapped him that night–"

"She slapped Draco?" Astoria had to gasp. As much as she loved her husband, he was a very intimidating man when he wished to be, and she couldn't imagine anyone having the sheer foolishness to even raise their voice at him, let alone slap him.

"'Seven years overdue'," Daphne repeated. Astoria narrowed her eyes, and her dainty fingers clenched the bag on her lap.

"I see," she managed after a while. "I suppose that explains quite a lot."

Explain what? Daphne wanted to ask, but just then their maître'd approached their table, and she wisely chose to hold back.

"Would you like a refill, Mesdemoiselles?"

Daphne wordlessly held out her goblet, watching her sister trying to pull herself together.

Dear Draco,

I'm allowed to worry about you whenever I please, thank you very much, but I'll promise not to bother you about it anymore if you promise me you won't do anything I wouldn't like.

Thanks for the help you sent me for Potions. Slughorn was impressed at 'my initiative'. I didn't know slicing the foxglove with a silver-plated knife would strengthen the effects of a Draught of Living Death. Blaise Zabini lent me his knife. Did you know he stayed behind for another year? He also seems to be a bit too cuddly with Luna, if you ask me, but she denies anything.

I still think the Falcons aren't going to win this year. The Arrows seem to have upgraded their defense exponentially.

I saw Romilda Vane trying to bewitch her hair blonde the other day, and I thought of you.

Yours,
Ginny

Ginny was starting to regret agreeing to cover for Daphne. She tried not to groan when she heard the bells on the door for the countless time that evening. The 'Closed' sign was big enough, surely?

"I'm sorry," she said curtly, not bothering to look up from wiping a table. "We're closed–"

"I know that," someone interrupted, sounding annoyed.

She had to do a double take. "Dr– Malfoy?"

"Spare me the act, Ginny." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

Ginny crossed her arms, huffing. "You Weasley-ed me first."

Draco looked at her oddly, and she felt the atmosphere grow serious.

"Seven years, Draco," she murmured, looking defiantly at whatever happened to be straight ahead. "I haven't heard from you for seven years. What did you expect me to do?"

His hand flew to his cheek and he winced involuntarily. "I'm… not here about that," he admitted.

Ginny realised she had been staring at his chin, and swiftly redirected her gaze upwards – a bad mistake, as his eyes had locked onto hers.

Dear Draco,

I don't know what's happening, but Pig arrived this morning shivering something awful. He nearly froze his poor feathers off bringing back your (really short) reply.

Where are you, Draco? I haven't seen you in months and the last proper letter you sent me was forever ago. Yes, I'm worried – Ron says neo-Death Eaters have been spotted in Toulouse. I remember you once told me you had a cottage there. Is that where you are?

Nothing here. School's the same as ever, except it's just sunk in that Hogwarts really is empty this year. I think that most people are reluctant to send their kids here after what happened two years ago, but—

(The previous line was crossed out rather vehemently.)

Mrs. Tonks would like to give her regards to your mother.

Stay safe.

Ginny

Daphne mused at Astoria's apparent lack of appetite – she had always loved her éclair – but she was even more surprised when her sister actually folded the napkin back and stood up to leave.

"Astoria?" she asked.

"I've… I've just remembered something, Daph," Astoria answered absently, and Daphne felt a brief jolt of happiness at the childhood nickname. Astoria's sudden cessation of the Narcissa Malfoy imitation was not lost on her, however. "I think I've got to go."

Daphne watched as her sister fret with something in her mind for another second, before actually Flooing out of the restaurant using one of its provided stations.

She signaled at the maître'd, asked for the whole bottle, and told him to put everything on the Malfoys' tab.

Dear Draco,

I haven't heard from you in a while. I know I promised, but is everything all right?

Don't forget what you promised me, too, or I'll skip the hexing altogether.

Honestly, you're such a git sometimes.

Sincerely,
Ginny

Her eyes flashed when he reached out to push a stray lock of auburn back into place.

"You can't apologize after seven fucking years and expect me to welcome you back with open arms, if that's what you're here for."

Draco shot her a look as if to say, Do you mind?

"And don't give me that crap about not apologizing for something you did right, either," she snapped before he could properly reply. "How do you think I felt, Draco?"

Silence ensued, and Draco broke eye contact.

"Those cowards at Toulouse burned down our cottage three days after we left," he said offhandedly, and Ginny balked at the sudden change of topic. She was about to ask what the hell he was trying to do when the full implication of what he had just told her sunk in.

I saved his life.

Ginny looked away, allowing herself a small, "Oh." She saw Draco's hand slip into his coat pocket and tighten into a fist.

"I—I hesitated," he muttered. He was still facing away from her. "About coming back. To England, I mean. Mostly because of you."

Ginny hadn't felt so miserable since she'd given up looking for hints of an eagle owl in the sky, years ago. "Because I remind you," she stated grimly, "of everything you were trying to leave behind."

"You do," was his simple reply, and she had to sit down and tried not to look like she was about to cry.

"You kept me from returning for a very long time," he continued, and for a while all Ginny could think of was damnyoudamnyoudamnyou. "Even after Mother begged me to go back; she loves the Manor too much. I think it reminds her of Father."

She toyed with the rag she was still holding, got sick of it and promptly Banished it to a drawer in the kitchen.

"I couldn't forget," he told her quietly. "I can't. But you remind me of everything too much, and not thinking of you…" He looked away again. "It also hurts. And, five years ago… I met Astoria."

Ginny blinked. What?

"I don't know if I love her," he said, after a long pause. "I certainly care about her deeply, but… I don't know." Then he turned to look at her squarely, and several things happened in quick succession.

Several tears escaped as she tried to look at Draco.

Still standing, he leaned down, and gently held her face.

Her pulse raced, and he kissed her.

Dear Draco,

This— (This was scratched out.)

I was talking to Zabini the other day— (This was also scratched out.)

You insufferable, little bast— (Ink was everywhere.)

Please write back. I miss you.

Ginny

Astoria shakily murmured, "Incendio," and watched the letters fall to the ground and burn.