The fact remained that Draco Malfoy was a vile git of the worst sort. He was shockingly rude, for one, and he was also a big hypocrite. He could argue that he hadn't heard her breathless "Malfoy…Wait!" - he couldn't pretend that he hadn't seen her; they had locked eyes as she approached the lift, flowers and fruit and asparagus and parsley overflowing from the multiple grocery bags she carried.

He stood in stark contrast to the red velvet of the lift's interior, dressed in finely cut dark robes, his hair glowing silver in the soft lighting. He met her gaze squarely, and did nothing to stop the lift's doors from closing. She opened her mouth to speak, but the force of his gaze, the absence of warmth or real color in those steel gray eyes of his caught her by surprise as it sometimes did, and she could only stare dumbly as he glanced back at her with utter indifference.

A loud thud made her jump, breaking her out of her reverie, and they both watched as a single tangerine rolled from her feet and into the lift. He raised his eyes to hers again in that split second before the doors closed in her face, and something inside of her sank.

Turning away from the lift, she fought an unexpected surge of tears. The cheerful fire and the Christmas decorations of the lobby, and especially the beautiful Christmas tree, now all seemed some horrible joke. Joy and cheer indeed; these past few days had been hell.

By the time the lift returned from the penthouse level it was empty, even the tangerine had disappeared. Somehow that was the final straw for her. Up until that moment she had every intention to go up there and rage at him, scream and stomp her feet and snap her fingers in his face - but now she knew she wouldn't be able to bear the sight of him.

Ginevra Malfoy set her groceries down on the polished marble floor of the lobby, turned on her heel and stalked out of the building.

***

Blaise Zabini set his empty glass of Firewhisky on the table and lined it with the others.

"-Vile git of the worst sort!" Ginny was saying hotly, pausing only to drain her own glass. "Shockingly rude! A huge hypocrite! So it's perfectly fine for him to meet with that languid Greengrass harpy whenever she wants, but I can't meet Oliver for coffee?"

Blaise snorted indelicately. "Ginny, please. You must know it's not the same. He hates Oliver Wood, not just because of your past history with him, but also because of that dreadful Holyhead Harpies fiasco. It cost Draco a deal worth millions of Galleons. And for him to find out about this coffee date by seeing that photograph of you in The Prophet…" Blaise trailed off meaningfully, and Ginny had the grace to blush.

"Whose side are you on, Zabini?" she demanded, meeting his dark green eyes with blazing amber ones. "So I forgot to tell him about it. I'm a terrible wife who gets photographed sipping coffee with other men. He should just divorce me right now!"

Blaise sighed and poured two more glasses of Firewhisky. Then he turned to Ginny. "Wait...Did you want some too?"

***

She could feel warm wood against her forehead, and something wet on her chin.

Where am I?

"Thanks for the owl," someone drawled. "But did you have to let it get this far before letting me know?"

She had recognized the deep, lovely voice, so like steel and velvet, immediately. When she finally dared to open her eyes, however, she was surprised to see Draco Malfoy and his twin standing before her.

"There's two of you?"

The Dracos gazed towards the heavens briefly before reaching over to remove something from her face.

"What the hell is she wearing?"

"A fertility mask I picked up during my travels in Bali," Blaise replied, smirking. "Isn't that interesting, out of all the masks displayed in my living room, she picked precisely that one to wear…"

Draco muttered something before picking her up. She was unceremoniously slung over his shoulder, and for a moment she feared all the Firewhisky she'd downed would come right back out. She noted absently that her red hair reached nearly down to one of Draco's four ankles.

I hope he doesn't step on it. How did he know I was here?

"Blaise, you traitor," Ginny muttered, her fists pounding feebly against her husband's back. "I'm not going anywhere with these wankers."

"Ginny," Blaise said, appearing before her upside down - and double as well – "You're quite drunk, love."

"No! I'm… not!" she protested drunkenly.

Blaise smiled charmingly and patted her head. "I gave her some Sober Up potion but it might be some time before it kicks in…you know how Malfoys hold their liquor."

"Thanks," she heard Draco reply wearily. "See you at the dinner?"

***

She next woke to the feel of ice water pounding on her head. It quickly soaked through her hair and her clothes, chilling her to bone. She yelled incoherently and tried to escape, but firm hands held her under the shower's spray.

"Draco!" she sputtered angrily, suddenly wide awake.

After some moments the temperature of the water rose, and she huddled under its stream, shivering. When his arms enveloped her she realized Draco had come into the shower with her, and raised her eyes to his, bracing herself for what she'd find. To her surprise, eyes gray as winter beheld her with unmistakable warmth.

"Is that better?" he murmured, as he rubbed warmth into her back and the sides of her arms.

Ginny nodded, still shivering. "You don't hate me anymore?" she asked in a small voice.

His fine eyebrows arched briefly with surprise. "No, I don't."

"Draco—"

"Ginny—"

They smiled at each other, and then Draco bridged the small distance between them to brush her lips with his. What began gently, tentatively, turned into a smoldering kiss that melted her to the bare essentials of her being, and left her breathless and trembling.

She stared back at him, dazed, her fingers clutching at his collar. His flaxen hair had darkened a shade under the water, and his dark lashes clumped together like a baby's. She realized his lips were moving, and tried to make sense of his words.

"Gin, I'm sorry," Draco was murmuring. "I've been a bit of a wanker these past few days, haven't I?"

"I'm sorry too," she said quietly. "I just…I didn't think. I shouldn't have–"

"I shouldn't have been such an arse about it," he said against her skin, his fingers unbuttoning her soaked blouse, his wet lips tracing her collarbone. "But no matter how I angry I am, I could never hate you."

Ginny curled her fingers in his hair, and opened her mouth to speak. But then his mouth traveled lower, and she forgot everything else.

***

She opened the door and was surprised to find Lucius Malfoy, tall and stately with his silvery blond hair loose over his shoulders, snowflakes still caught in the edge of his hood.

"Why, hello papa," she greeted ironically.

Lucius made a sound suspiciously like a snort. "Charming," he murmured, kissing the air around her cheek and letting himself into the foyer. "Is my son in?"

"You've just missed him," Ginny replied, sighing as she shut the door and followed her father-in-law into her living room. He had already removed his fancy gloves, and was unclasping his cloak.

"Can I offer you tea?" she murmured, taking his cloak, gloves and cane.

What does he want?

She watched as Lucius' pale eyes roamed around the room, taking notice of the luxurious yet simple furniture and out of place objects, and cursed herself for not casting a simple spell to tidy things up a bit before opening the door.

Thankfully Lucius said nothing of the golf clubs or the empty Firewhisky glasses or the dog eared copy of Pride and Prejudice. His eyes settled on the bowl of fresh tangerines that lent the room its sweet and tangy scent, and he immediately went and plucked a fruit from it. It was the tangerine, the one that had figured in the most recent fight, now sporting a pair of red lips painted on courtesy of Draco, but other than a soft "Hmm," again Lucius chose to not remark on this.

"Draco is quite fond of tangerines, as I recall," the elder Malfoy commented finally, seating himself on the black leather couch with the same easy grace particular to his son.

Ginny resigned herself to sitting opposite him, wondering what he had up his sleeve.

"This fruit was an extravagant sort of delicacy once," Lucius began, rolling the brightly colored tangerine around in his long, thin fingers. "Once commerce was regularized through transportation spells and taxes, tangerines became readily available. Just about anyone can purchase one now."

Ginny watched as Lucius' perfectly manicured nail traced the brazen red lips Draco had painted on the puckered surface of the fruit. Then his thumb broke through the skin, and peeled it back to reveal the soft, translucent flesh, dripping juice.

"Therein lies the lesson for any Malfoy. To make oneself available is to be common, and to be cheap. To be rare is to be…desirable." Lucius tore a piece of tangerine and, raising his steel gray eyes to Ginny's, offered it to her wordlessly.

Ginny felt her cheeks flush with heat as she understood the meaning of his words. Lucius doubtless spoke of her appearance in The Daily Prophet, which had been so disgusting to Draco and even to Blaise.

To be readily available is to be common, and to be cheap.

Or could he mean… suddenly Ginny thought of Draco, her husband, gazing at her brazenly as the lift doors closed in her face. Would he have done such a thing before, when he wasn't sure of her love, her constancy? Would he?

They had never really talked about what happened, and she hadn't had a chance to say how hurt she'd been by his behavior. All of their fights ended with mind-blowing make-up sex, but they seldom really talked about things…

Ginny turned her gaze from the proffered piece of fruit, raising her eyes to meet the cool gray ones that were so similar and yet so different from Draco's, and which now beheld her impassively.

"I've never cared much for tangerines," she said quietly.

Lucius Malfoy smiled blandly. "Nor have I."

***

Later that week, Draco and Ginny Apparated to Ottery St. Catchpole for Christmas dinner at the Burrow. All of the Weasley children and their brood were in attendance, as well as Harry and Luna, and even Blaise and his flavor of the month, a busty blonde named Lana.

Ginny had decided early on not to be one of those couples, so she and Draco separated before dinner to make their rounds. Ginny was instantly surrounded by the children, who wanted to hear Quidditch stories, while Draco was dragged off to play Wizards' Chess by Ron and to discuss the state of the market by Percy.

After listening to Hermione bitch about Ron, to Harry gush about Luna, and to Lana talk at length about how Spanx had changed her life, Ginny was ready to be reunited with Draco again, but he was nowhere to be found – he happened to be playing an impromptu game of Quidditch with Charlie and the twins at that precise moment.

Amidst the catching up with her siblings and friends, the noise, the laughter, the children running around, Ginny quickly lost track of time, and didn't realize it was time for dinner until her stomach began to growl.

She headed to the obvious place – the kitchen – and there she found Draco and her mother in close conference.

"-Up all night writing parchments he won't let anyone read. He hardly eats, he's grown dreadfully thin and has ghastly circles under his eyes. He speaks to no one, he won't answer owls or Floos," Draco confided, his pale eyes holding Mrs. Weasley's enrapt brown ones. "He's in his own little world, deaf and dumb to all that occurs around him."

"Oh, dear. I do hope he's not on drugs," whispered Mrs. Weasley, having recently read all about the drug pandemic afflicting youths in the Muggle newspaper had brought home.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he was," Draco whispered back solemnly, arching his pale eyebrows.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Ginny snapped, having heard quite enough. "Don't you two have anything better to do than gossip about poor Theo?"

"Hush now, Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley reproachfully. "Draco is the only one who tells me anything around here. Go on, dear…do you think Pansy will take him back?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and grabbed the nearest tray. "Mum, can we eat, please?"

"Oh alright," conceded Mrs. Weasley, her motherly duties taking precedence over her love of romance gossip.

Muttering about poor Theo, she grabbed the tray from Ginny and headed to the dining room. Ginny was about to follow suit, when Draco held her by the wrist and gently spun her around.

"Just a moment," he said quietly, "there's something I've been meaning to do." Taking a tangerine from the fruit basket on the kitchen table, he let it drop to the floor and roll to her feet. Sinking to one knee, he picked up the fruit and held it up to her much as he had the engagement ring he'd proposed with one year before.

"This is what I should have done that day. I should have stopped that lift door from closing on you, and I should have picked up that tangerine and given it to you. I was terribly rude, and I need you to know that I will never do something like that again. Got it?"

"Got it," she whispered, pulling him up to stand before her and kissing his hands. "Thank you."

"Happy Christmas, Ginny." Draco gazed down at her, his stunning gray eyes unwavering, a small smile playing over his lips.

"Happy Christmas, Draco," she replied, standing up on the tips of her toes to seal his lips with her own.

"Oh knock it off, you two," Fred said cheerfully, irrupting into the kitchen – or it could have been George, Draco never could tell them apart – "Get a room, will you!"

They both ignored him and continued to kiss, wrapped in each other. The tangerine rolled away from their feet, forgotten.

She would never say it, but her husband's apology was a much better gift than that expensive diamond necklace he had gotten her for their first Christmas as a married couple. The wonderful thing was she didn't have to say it; for once, she was sure he understood.