Sweet like candy to my soul
Sweet you rock and sweet you roll
Lost for you, I’m so lost for you
When you come crash into me
Crash Into Me, Dave Matthews Band

~*~

January, 2011

"Hullo," Neville said idly to Draco, who sauntered into his office and flopped into the visitor’s chair. "Have a good holiday?"

Considering that Draco looked irrepressibly cheerful and extremely well rested, Neville guessed that he had. Draco nodded and smiled, confirming his assumption. "I did. It was bloody cold, though."

"Isn’t it always cold in Canada?"

Draco snorted. "No, sometimes it warms up. Right pain when it does...melts the igloos."

"Well, with all the money you’ll make from selling Malfoy Manor, you can buy a new igloo, I imagine."

"What?" Draco looked at him in surprise. "How did you know I was selling the Manor?"

"It was in the paper over Christmas," Neville said, rummaging around in his desk. "There was a front-page story on it, with a picture of you and everything. You’re famous." Neville pulled out the copy of the Daily Prophet he was saving and tossed it at Draco.

"Eugh," Draco said, picking it up. "They could have found a better picture."

"Not to mention they’ve blown your cover. What with that bit about you being seen ‘round the Ministry, there’ve been reporters lurking around here for the last three days, assaulting everyone they can find. Even me." Neville grunted in disgust. "I was in the same bloody house as Colin Creevey, and the little punter had the gall to corner me and demand to know if I were you. Not if I’d seen you, if I were you. The twit."

"Should have told him that you were and made him go away," Draco replied absently, scanning the article. "God, that’s a really bad picture. Where did they find it?"

Neville shrugged. "Probably an old one Colin took. He was always snap happy with his damn camera. At least you can be sure no one will recognise you."

Draco folded up the paper in disgust. "Remind me to get you to point him out to me so I can avoid him at all costs." He tossed it back on Neville’s desk and put his feet up on the edge, tilting the visitor’s chair back on its rear legs.

Neville sighed. "One day you are going to topple over backwards and break your neck, doing that."

"Yes, Mother," Draco smirked. "How was your holiday?"

"It was fine. Went to the Weasleys, so it was crowded and noisy and hectic. So why are you - " he was interrupted by a brisk knock on the door, which immediately swung open to admit a sea of redheads.

"Neville, old son! Long time no see!"

"Nice office you’ve got here!"

"How’s the Auroring going?"

"Staying out of trouble?"

Draco swung his feet off Neville’s desk and sat up straight. He glanced at Neville, who gave a long-suffering sigh. "Speaking of Weasleys...Ron, Fred, George, Percy, Charlie. Bit of a surprise, seeing you all here. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Actually we’re not here to talk to you," Fred said, coming around Draco’s chair to lean against the edge of Neville’s desk, as the rest of the Weasley brothers arranged themselves about the small office. He grinned down at Draco. "Hello, Malfoy."

"Oh, for..." Neville stood up, but was effectively blocked behind his desk by Percy and Ron.

"Hello." Draco nodded at Fred and began to stand up, but George pressed him back into his seat.

"No, no...have a seat, Malfoy. We just stopped by for a friendly chat!" George remained standing behind Draco, one hand resting heavily on his shoulder. "Ginny mentioned you were back in town, so we thought we’d come by, renew our acquaintanceship, that sort of thing."

Charlie leaned back against Neville's desk and made a show of cracking his knuckles.

"Indeed," Draco said mildly. "I’m touched."

"Aye, well. Always nice to keep in touch with the old crowd, you know. All sorts of people, I think to myself, wonder whatever happened to them? And since you’re here, and we haven’t seen you in an age, we all thought we’d drop by, say hello, that sort of thing." Fred waved a hand airily.

"Undoubtedly because we were such close friends before," Draco said wryly. Ron coughed behind his hand and started examining the ceiling.

Fred shrugged and ignored that. "Yes, well. Gin’s a good girl, you know. Friendly, kind, loving, easy-going..."

"Yes, she’s a real sweetheart," George said, taking up the gauntlet. "Very special to us all."

Charlie nodded. "Would be a terrible shame if anything were to happen that would hurt her feelings."

"I see," said Draco, in the same mild tone.

"Exactly," Fred said, curling his right hand into a fist and rubbing it in the palm of his left. "We’re good men, you know, and we’d all hate to see anyone get hurt."

"Not to mention that hurting someone would be against the law and would no doubt get people in serious trouble," Percy said pompously. Fred rolled his eyes and Charlie sighed, shaking his head. Draco looked at Neville and quickly looked away, a corner of his mouth twitching.

Ron reached over and poked Percy in the ribs. "I thought you agreed to keep your mouth shut!"

Percy glared at him and straightened his glasses. "I’m only saying - "

"Shut up, Percy!"

Neville could see Draco’s shoulders trembling out of the corner of his eye and busied himself
with shuffling papers around on his desk, studiously not looking at his partner.

"As I was saying," Fred continued, glancing quellingly at Percy, "we’d all hate to see anything bad happen to Ginny, what with her being our only sister, and a dear, sweet, wonderful person at that. I’m sure you feel the same way, don’t you, Malfoy?" He stopped and looked at Draco meaningfully. Draco blinked guilelessly back at him, poker-faced, and didn’t reply.

Fred glared at him. "Right. But since we all agree, I’m sure nothing bad will happen, will it?" He nodded firmly and straightened up, dusting off his hands. "Will you look at the time. We do have places to be so we can’t stay. Good to see you again Malfoy, Neville." He motioned to the others. "Let’s go, boys."

Neville nodded faintly at Ron as the Weasleys filed out the door. Charlie hung back and stopped with one hand on the doorknob. He turned to Draco and cleared his throat. "I just want to make this perfectly clear, Malfoy. There’s five of us, and only one of you. If you do anything to hurt her, we’ll kill you."

"I had gathered that, actually," Draco said, and stepped back as Charlie nodded at Neville and stepped quietly out the door.

Neville and Draco looked at each other. "So," Draco said. "I take it Ginny told her family?"

"What gave it away?" Neville grinned and shook his head. "Charming, aren’t they?"

"Something like that."

"If it makes you feel better, they’ve done it to me, too. I’m pretty sure they didn’t really mean it," Neville said. "They’re a bit overprotective, but you needn’t feel threatened."

"Threatened?" Draco snorted. "Bit hard to feel threatened by a bunch of people with freckles all over their noses. Makes them all look twelve." He sighed and sat back down in his chair. "Are they always like that?"

Neville thought about it. "Pretty much. And just think...you get to see them all again at Jamie’s birthday party in two weeks."

"Actually, I’m not going to the party," Draco shrugged. "I promised Ginny that I’d come by in the morning and drop something off for him, but I’m skipping the party itself."

"Oh," Neville said. "How come?"

"Partly because I’d rather not have to fend off a horde of Weasleys repeating the scene we just got to experience, and partly because I don’t really want to go." Draco shrugged again and leaned the chair back again. "Besides, I’ve got some things to look into at the Yard, so I’ll very likely be busy."

Neville eyed him. "And you think Harry will be there."

Draco shrugged and looked at the ceiling.

"You do, don’t you?"

"Actually, it just so happens that I will be busy, and I simply can’t make it." Draco crossed his arms over his chest, frowning up at the ceiling and not looking at Neville.

"And if I told you Harry wouldn’t be there, would you go?"

"But he is going to be there. It’s his son’s birthday, of course he’ll be there."

"And you just happen to be conveniently busy." Neville grinned and sipped at his coffee. "You just don’t want to run into Harry. I knew it!" His grin widened as Draco scowled at him. "You’re going to have to eventually, you know."

"Eventually is not now," Draco grumbled. "Are you going?"

"No...I gave Ginny Jamie’s present already." Neville coughed and shuffled some scrolls around on his desk. "As it happens, I’ll be busy that day as well."

"Well isn’t that convenient." Draco sat up straight and smirked at him. "What’s your excuse?"

"I’m genuinely busy?" Neville shrugged and refused to look at him. "And I generally try to stay out of Harry’s way for the most part."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "And why is that?"

"Long story."

Draco tilted his head at Neville and grinned. "I have time. Why do you avoid the illustrious Mr. Potter?"

"No reason."

"Oh, come on. Just tell me."

Neville ran one hand through his hair. "Would you leave me alone if I told you it’s none of your business?"

"Nope." Draco smirked. "And you have the nerve to needle me about avoiding Potter. How’s that for the pot calling the kettle black? Tell me why."

"God, you’re annoying." Neville finally looked up, and met Draco’s eyes. "How much do you know about Ginny and Harry’s breakup?"

Draco raised an eyebrow at the switch in subject. "Just that they split up and that they’re still friendly. Why?"

"It wasn’t always..." Neville stopped. "They weren’t..." he stopped again, and leaned back in his chair, gathering his thoughts. "They’re on friendly terms now, but for a few months there, they really weren’t. I helped Ginny out when she and Harry split up; she stayed at my place and sort of didn’t tell Harry where she was. It was about 2 weeks before Harry found out. He...wasn’t very happy with me, for letting Ginny stay there without telling him. And there are some things that Harry knows that I would have been happier having him not know, and it makes life easier if we don’t see much of each other."

"Ah," Draco nodded impassively.

"What?" Neville jerked his head irritably.

"That was...vague as all hell."

"You didn’t specify a good explanation. Take what you get." Neville glared at Draco and leaned forward to grab his coffee cup. "Why don’t you ask Ginny, if you want to know? Not my place to tell you."

"Because I’d feel like a horrible, prying git, trying to pump her for information on her failed marriage?"

"Draco Malfoy has developed a conscience?" Neville grinned again as Draco scowled fiercely at him. "Will wonders never cease?"

"Thank your lucky stars that I have, and I am not saying half of the nasty things I’m thinking about you right now, Longbottom," he said grumpily.

"Well, if you really want to know about their breakup and don’t want to ask her, you can go to the Library and look at back issues of the Daily Prophet. It was huge news when it hit the press."

Draco snorted. "Of course it was. Poor Perfect Potter gets dumped. Why wouldn’t it make news?"

Neville frowned at him. "Whether you like him or not, Harry is who he is. Decorated war hero, world-class Seeker, and the best coach the league has seen in years. Of course his divorce made news." Neville shrugged. "It was a zoo...that was actually why they started talking again, because once the press got wind of what was going on, it was making the whole situation worse. Printing all sorts of stuff, hounding everyone even remotely related to Harry or to Ginny. The whole Weasley clan sort of closed ranks around the two of them, and they worked out the split as privately as possible, so they could avoid the publicity hounds. Surprising, really, how vicious the press was, especially against Harry...guess he was due for a backlash."

Draco didn’t say anything, but he looked decidedly smug.

Neville sighed. "Look, you can ask Ginny, or go to the Daily Prophet, or the Library for back issues of the newspaper, but I’m not going to tell you."

"I’ll think about that."

"Well, in the meantime, you can tell me why you’re selling the Manor."

Draco narrowed his eyes at his partner. "Because I don’t need it."

"No? Not going to keep it as...oh, I don’t know, a sort of family keepsake? You know, some families pass down silverware, or ugly heirlooms, others do real estate." Neville leaned back in his chair. "I’ve got a truly hideous vase I inherited when Gran died. It’s a sort of bilious lavender colour. I hide it in a cupboard and only bring it out when Aunt Muriel comes to visit, because she wanted it and was furious when Gran left it to me."

"A manor house is not something I can stuff in the back of a drawer and only pull out when I want to irritate people," Draco snorted. "I don’t need it, and it’s a pain having to go out there all the time, and upkeep on the thing costs a fortune, so I’m getting rid of it."

"It’s a manor. Owning an estate is a crowning achievement...most people our age would kill to be able to drop ‘oh yes, my country house’ into conversations in a sort of airy manner, just to prove how well off they are."

"I’ll sell you mine for a dollar," said Draco. "It’s huge, and drafty, and ugly, and dark, and I hate it. Be damned if I set foot in the thing again."

Neville was a bit taken aback by Draco’s vehemence. "All right. Was just saying, most normal people would want one." He shrugged. "Not that you’re normal, mind..."

"Now why does that sound like an insult?"

"Take it or leave it. Now if you’re finished with the idle chitchat, we have work to do." Neville rummaged in a file drawer while Draco scowled at him. He found the file he was looking for and sat up straight, smirking at his partner. He shoved a piece of paper at Draco. "Hermione sent that pendant back, but she didn’t find anything on it. She says the magical aura you feel when you touch it is a residual field left over by a strong charm being placed on an object and then removed, but there’s no way of knowing what sort of charm it was."

"Damn," Draco said softly, scanning the paper Neville handed him. "What sort of charm would you be able to put on something that small, that would leave that strong an aura?"

"No idea." Neville shrugged. "Portkey, maybe? Some sort of locator spell? Could be anything."

"On something that small, and that particular shape..." Draco trailed off, brow furrowed. "Couldn’t be a portkey, if they were wearing it as a pendant, or even keeping it in a pocket. Too easy to touch it accidentally and get whisked off somewhere you didn’t necessarily want to go. And if it were a locator charm, why’d they take it off?"

Neville shook his head, watching Draco carefully. "Didn’t need it anymore?"

"That doesn’t make sense."

"None of this makes sense, so that’s hardly a roadblock," Neville pointed out. "We don’t even know why they’re doing this at this point. It’s not even like they get that much money from the robberies...Muggle banks never seem to keep much cash on hand nowadays. It’s all electronic."

"Boredom would be my guess. What I want to know," Draco mused, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the edge of Neville’s desk, "is what they plan to do when they get tired of banks."

"With any luck, we’ll catch them before that happens," Neville said fervently.

Draco snorted. "Not at this rate."

~*~

It took Draco the better part of a week to find what he wanted, tucked away in a toyshop off Charing Cross, and another two days before he could bring himself to make a foray into Diagon Alley to Ollivander’s Wand Shop to replace his old wand. He didn’t bother to tell Neville about that little trip, on the grounds that it was none of Neville’s business anyway. Thankfully, he hadn’t run into anyone he knew, and Ollivander, although he looked at Draco sharply, hadn’t asked any difficult questions, like what had happened to his old wand. Which was just as well, because Draco wouldn’t have answered them. All in a good cause, Draco told himself that evening, sitting cross-legged on the floor of his room, surrounded by tiny plastic cowboys and Indians. There were 30 of each in the box, and he was in the process of painstakingly magicking each of them to move. He was halfway through, and the small crowd of toys he’d already done were staging a small war across the lid of the box, with much whooping and yelling and little cracks of mock-gunfire like popping bubbles. Draco grinned as several more enthusiastic toys fell off the edge of the box and rolled across the carpet. Ginny was going to hate him for this.

It was nearly 3 am when he finally finished, although most of the last hour was spent trying to get the little plastic men back in the box, since both groups insisted that they couldn’t be expected to share a container with the other. He finally resorted to a sleep spell, dumped the cowboys in one plastic bag and the Indians in another, then stuffed them in the box. He’d found some jaunty wrapping paper in a shop near the toy store, also decorated with small cowboys and Indians, which he used to wrap the present up, then left it near the door where he could pick it up on his way out.

When Draco finally stumbled out of bed, it was nearing 10:30, and he had to rush in order to make it up to Ginny’s flat by 11. She was taking the children to her parents at noon for Jamie’s party, but he wanted to drop off his gift before they left. She answered his knock at the door looking flustered and holding onto William, who was wearing Chudley Cannons underwear and nothing else.

"‘Lo, hon, c’mon in," she said, stepping back so he could enter. Draco leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek, but she turned her head to catch his lips. He smiled against her mouth and deepened the kiss, only to be distracted as Will grabbed his hair and chortled.

"Ow! Little monster," he grumbled as Ginny, giggling, tried to detach Draco’s hair from Will’s fists. "He’s got a grip like a lobster."

"He doesn’t get it from me," Ginny protested, laughing. "Jamie’s in the living room, if that’s for him. Want to be a dear and go entertain him while I get Sarah and Willie ready? ‘Mione and Ron will be here in half an hour, and I’m running horribly late as it is."

At Draco’s nod, she carried Will off down the hallway toward the bedroom. Draco paused for a moment to admire the sway of her hips before passing through the kitchen and leaning against the archway into the living room. Jamie and Sarah were sitting on the living room floor, playing with what looked like a terribly old model of a Hungarian Horntail dragon, which seemed to be halfheartedly threatening a flock of Sarah’s dolls.

"I’ve heard a rumour," Draco said, "that someone here is having a birthday."

Jamie and Sarah both looked up, Jamie grinning at the sight of the present under Draco’s arm. "Hullo Draco," he said happily, jumping up. Sarah waved shyly and flashed him a quick smile.

Draco grinned back and handed the box over. "There you go. Don’t get paper all over, your mother will kill me."

Jamie ripped into the wrapping paper with enthusiasm, scattering bits everywhere. He crowed in delight when he saw the box. "Is it a real Muggle toy?" he asked excitedly.

"Sort of," Draco said. "Open the box and see."

Jamie did just that, pulling out the bags full of little plastic men. The sleep spell Draco had cast on them last night was wearing off, and mutterings could be heard from within each plastic sack. Jamie ripped them both open, unceremoniously dumping cowboys and Indians into one large pile on the floor. Sarah squeaked and backed away as the little toys began to brawl
enthusiastically. Jamie whooped. "Brilliant!"

"If you separate them, you can build a little fort, and they’ll have gun battles and things," Draco said, coming forward to crouch on his heels beside Jamie. He carefully reached into the pile to pick up toys one by one and place them on opposite sides of the box lid, where they couldn’t see each other.

By the time Ginny had finished with William and came to collect Sarah, Draco and Jamie were stretched out on the carpet hard at work. Sarah had retreated to the couch, clutching her dolls, and was watching the proceedings with an expression of interested horror. The box had been dismantled to form a small fort, and after some careful work with toothpicks and wrapping paper, a reasonable Indian village had been constructed. Several Indian braves were dancing around a mock fire in the centre of the village, yipping and waving little toy tomahawks, while the cowboys paced the walls of their makeshift fort and looked worried.

Ginny eyed the scene dubiously as she set Will down on the couch. "What, exactly, are those things?"

"Toys," Draco said laconically, at the same time Jamie said, "Indians!" Neither of them looked up.

Ginny watched them for a moment, red and blond heads bent together industriously, then shook her head and took Sarah’s hand. "All I can say is, I’d better not step on any of them."

"You won’t," Draco replied. "I charmed them to move out of the way when they’re not being played with."

"You charmed them?" Ginny asked. Draco nodded without looking up. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, staring at him for a long moment. Then she shrugged and ushered Sarah across the kitchen and down the hall.

William bounced around on the couch while Draco and Jamie played, doing an impression of a human cannonball by climbing up on the arms of the couch and jumping onto the cushions, giggling madly. Draco watched him in alarm a time or two, until he realized the couch was charmed so that William couldn’t fall off. Obviously this kind of thing was a regular occurrence. Draco explained to Jamie how to make the toys stage little mock-battles, and when Ron and Hermione arrived at noon, twins in tow, a fierce war was taking place on the living room floor.

Draco sat up from where he’d been lying on the carpet and watched with veiled amusement as the twins came barreling through the kitchen to check out Jamie’s new toy, flopping down on the carpet and peppering Jamie with questions. He stood up gracefully, in one fluid movement, and wandered into the kitchen, dusting off his trousers. Ron nodded stiffly, and Hermione smiled at him. "Hello, Draco, we didn’t expect to see you here."

"I just stopped by to drop off a present for Jamie, actually. I have to work this afternoon, so I stopped by early."

"Present?" Hermione asked, a little too brightly. Draco nodded, but was saved from replying as Ron looked down with a small frown. One of the tiny cowboys had wandered away from the battle in the living room, and was sitting on the bottom shelf of the tea trolley, singing a wistful little song about buffalo and antelope in a tinny voice. Ron leaned over and picked it up. "Cute," he said. "Is this what you got Jamie?"

Draco nodded, and Hermione looked at him in surprise. "Wherever did you find them?" she asked, leaning over to look at the tiny cowboy cupped in Ron’s palm. "They really are adorable."

Draco shrugged. "One of my nephews has something very similar, only his don’t move. He loves them, so I though Jamie might like them as well."

Ron peered at him. "Nephews?"

Draco smiled faintly and nodded.

"I thought you were an only child," Ron said suspiciously.

"Hmmm." Draco nodded again, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the ceiling.

Ron narrowed his eyes at Draco, brows beetling, and opened his mouth to retort. Hermione caught the look on his face and quickly stepped between the two men. "Ron, dear, why don’t you take that back to the living room?"

He started to protest, but Hermione kicked him in the ankle, and he glowered and went, grumbling all the way. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to Draco. "Terribly sorry, he’s so nosy." She cleared her throat delicately. "So...I didn’t know you had any nephews."

Draco sighed faintly and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I don’t. Son of a friend of mine. It’s less confusing to the kids if I let them call me Uncle Draco."

Hermione smiled. "That’s so sweet."

"Thank you," Draco said, looking pained.

Ginny came back from the bedroom, a neatly pressed Sarah in tow. "I think we’re about ready to go, if we can drag Jamie away from his new toy." She beamed at Draco, who smiled back, and poked her head into the living room. "All right, boys, we’re ready to go. Put the toys away please - Ron, what are you doing? They’re Jamie’s! Come along, please, you can play when we get home." A chorus of groans and grumbling echoed into the kitchen, and Hermione rolled her eyes and chuckled.

"Men," Hermione said. "Thank goodness we have at least one girl in the family." She held out her hand to Sarah, who put one small hand in hers obediently. "Are we going by Floo?"

Ginny nodded. "Yes, I thought it’d be easier. If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll just see Draco out."

"Well, it was a pleasure to see you again, Draco," Hermione said, and looked like she would have dearly loved to say more, but Draco just nodded and picked up his coat, not meeting her eyes. Ginny followed him to the door as Ron herded the boys into the kitchen, and returned a minute later looking breathless, slightly flushed and quite pleased with herself. Hermione raised an eyebrow at her, but didn’t say anything as Ginny fetched the Floo powder from the pot on the refrigerator and they made their way to the Burrow for Jamie’s party.

~*~

"And Jamie got a whole pile of little cowboys and Indians from Draco...Gin, d’you know where he got them? They’re really very sweet." Hermione looked at Ginny inquiringly from over the rim of her teacup. They were sitting with Angelina and Natalie at the Burrow’s kitchen table, enjoying a quiet cup of tea while the children amused themselves in the living room. Penelope was there with Molly, making sure that nothing got too damaged as the Weasley grandchildren pounded around.

Harry had arrived shortly after Ginny, Ron and Hermione, and the twins with their wives soon after him; the men had taken over the living room floor and were putting together one of Jamie’s new toys, a rather spectacular Hogwarts Express train set with a track that moved itself at random. Hermione had sighed at the sight of Ron, Harry, Fred and George stretched out on the carpet fiddling with the train cars and, muttering something about boys never growing up, had collected the other women and retired to the kitchen.

"I’m not sure," Ginny said hesitantly, toying with her cup. "I think...I think he made them."

"Made them?" Hermione repeated. "How? Neville said he refuses to do magic anymore. And when they were in my office that time on business, he looked ready to bolt every time I cast a spell."

"I know...but I don’t think they sell anything like that on Diagon Alley or in Hogsmeade, and he said that he charmed them." Ginny shrugged. "Whether he meant that he added a spell to the ones already on them, or if he found a Muggle toy and spelled them all to move, I don’t know."

Angelina raised her eyebrows. "He refuses to do magic anymore?"

Ginny nodded. "He gave it up when he moved to Canada."

"Draco Malfoy gave up magic?" Angelina asked. "What for? I mean, leave the country, I could see, since I can’t imagine that England was the most comfortable place for him after the war, but magic?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don’t know...I haven’t asked. He just says that he didn’t want to be a wizard anymore, and gave it up. Doesn’t even have a wand anymore, as far as I know."

Angelina and Natalie shook their heads, but Hermione looked thoughtful. "I bet Harry knows why."

"Why would Harry know?" Ginny asked in disgust. "He doesn’t know everything."

"No, but there’s always been things that he wouldn’t talk about, even to Ron and I, and one of those things was what happened when Malfoy disappeared. And there was that whole thing with the Ministry wanting to issue a warrant for his arrest, and Harry stopping them...something happened there, and it must have had something to do with why Malfoy left."

"Don’t you ask him!" Ginny’s eyes widened in alarm. "He goes all wobbly whenever anyone mentions Draco, and the last thing I need is for you to go working him up before I have a chance to talk to him."

"You haven’t told him yet?" Hermione stared at Ginny, aghast. "I thought you were going to!"

"I am," Ginny said. "Eventually."

"When? Ginny, you’ve been dating Malfoy for months! You have to tell him!"

"And I am going to tell him. Soon." Ginny cleared her throat and stood up hurriedly, avoiding Hermione’s appalled stare. "I’m going to go check on the kids."

The three women watched her go, Angelina and Natalie exchanging confused glances. Hermione sighed. "I don’t like that she’s avoiding that...if Harry finds out from anyone but her, it’s going to go badly. Not that it won’t go badly anyway, mind you. Harry loathes Malfoy."

"Still?" Natalie asked.

Hermione laughed ruefully. "Oh yes. They were sworn enemies at Hogwarts. You were a few years back, so you may not remember, but Malfoy tried to get us in trouble so many times, the first few years. He got us all into so many detentions, he tried to have Hagrid fired, his father tried to get Professor Dumbledore removed as Hogwarts head...he was such a little bastard. After fifth year, he stopped being quite so obviously antagonistic, but he and Harry were never on good terms, or even neutral terms." She sighed again and reached for the teapot, refilling her teacup. "He kind of retreated in sixth year, but we always knew he was on Voldemort’s side in the war." Hermione blithely ignored the reflexive shudder that went through Angelina and Natalie at the mention of the name. "And then after the war, when Voldemort died, we learned that both Narcissa and Lucius were dead and that Malfoy had vanished, and Harry clammed up, refused to talk about it, and that was the last we heard. But Ron and I always thought that Malfoy must have left because the Death Eaters lost. It would fit."

"And Ginny is dating him?" Angelina shook her head. "Doesn’t she know?"

"You know what she’s like. She’s decided he’s changed, and once she gets an idea into her head, she won’t let go. Stubborn girl. I can understand why she’d be disposed to be kinder to him than Harry is; she was always on the outside of everything that was going on during the war. Molly and Arthur wanted to protect her as much as they could, so she didn’t really see everything that happened." Hermione shrugged and sipped at her cup. "Though to be fair, he really does seem to be nicer. Neville claims he’s changed too, and he hasn’t been as nasty as he used to, the few times I’ve seen him around. And I can’t really blame her, honestly. If he looked at me the way that he looks at her...well." She looked at her sisters-in-law meaningfully.

Angelina’s eyebrows threatened to disappear into her hairline. "Oh? And how does he look at her, exactly?"

"Like...oh, like he’d like to eat her alive." Hermione grinned. "There’s all this intensity, and he looks all smoulder-y. Like he wants her."

Natalie giggled. "Somehow I don’t think you mean the patented ‘Weasley Look’."

All three of them burst into laughter; the Weasley Look, as the sisters-in-law had dubbed it, was something that all the brothers used - even Percy, although Penelope had to have drunk a great deal of wine to admit it. They liked to think made them appear sexy and alluring, though in reality it tended to make them look rather constipated.

Hermione laughed. "No, most decidedly not the Weasley Look. He does look good enough to eat most of the time, though."

"Oh, really?" Angelina said with interest. "Fred said he looks different, but you know men...what’s he really look like?"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder to make sure Ginny - and possibly Ron - was still safely away, and lowered her voice. "He is drop dead gorgeous."

Natalie blinked in disbelief. "Malfoy? He looks like a drowned rat in all his pictures."

"All the pictures you’ve seen are of when he was a teenager though. He doesn’t look like that anymore," Hermione said. "He’s put on weight, and he’s got cheekbones to die for, and he always dresses impeccably. Overall, he’s grown into quite the nice-looking man."

"Well, well." Angelina sat back and set down her cup. "Fred left that bit out. I wonder why."

"Probably didn’t want the competition," Natalie said with a giggle.

"Did Ron tell you what they did?" Angelina continued. "Descended on Neville’s office en masse last week to threaten to pound Malfoy’s head in if he did anything to Ginny. Charlie even came up from Romania for it." She rolled her eyes. "Men."

"What’s this?" Ron demanded, appearing in the doorway. All three women jumped. "What are you lot gossiping about now?"

"We’re not gossiping!" Hermione protested. "How much did you hear?"

Ron smirked. "That’s for me to know and for you to wish you knew. Just came to grab some drinks. Building railroads is thirsty work."

Ginny appeared in the doorway behind him, with Harry right behind her, one hand resting lightly on the small of her back. "The birthday boy has demanded pumpkin juice, so we are here to see to his majesty's wishes," Harry said, laughing. Ginny smiled faintly and stepped away from him, toward the cupboard where the glasses were kept. Hermione caught Ginny’s eye and raised her eyebrows at her, glancing pointedly at Harry. Tell him! she mouthed.

I will, Ginny mouthed back with a strained look, but she didn’t say anything, only gathered up cups and left the room, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

~*~

Valentine’s Day, 2011

Draco was on time for once, and considerably less nervous than he had been the first time he stood in the hall outside this door and shuffled on the horrendous carpet. He knocked, and then stepped back and waited for Ginny to answer the door.

She opened it quickly, and smiled up at him. She was wearing a long satin dress in a deep shade of plum that made her skin glow, and her hair was pulled up in a loose bun that looked as though it might fall apart at any moment, with tendrils escaping at her temples. "Sorry...I’m almost ready, I’ll just be a minute." She stepped back to let him come into the flat, then stopped in surprise as he held out a large, flat box. "What’s this?"

"It’s a present. For you," Draco said.

Ginny looked at him quizzically as he handed it to her. "You didn’t have to get me anything...what is it?"

Draco smiled. "That’s sort of the point of it being a present. I’m not supposed to tell you, you open it and find out." She shook her head and laughed, setting the box on the table and pulling on the ribbon. Inside the box, nestled in swaths of white tissue paper, were five red roses. "One for each month," he said.

She gasped softly and lifted them out, burying her nose in the flowers and inhaling deeply. "They’re lovely!" She shifted them to her left hand and reached up to touch his cheek with her right. "Thank you."

"The box isn’t empty yet."

"There’s more?" Ginny poked around in the tissue paper. At the bottom of the box she found a small net bag full of teardrop shaped, foil wrapped candies. "What are these?"

"Muggle candy," Draco replied. "Hershey’s Kisses, to be precise. They’re chocolates."

"Chocolate kisses?" She arched an eyebrow at him as he tried to look innocent. She looked at them speculatively, then handed the bag to Draco. "Hold them for a moment while I put the roses in water." She rummaged through the cupboards until she found a vase, and arranged the roses quickly. "So to what do I owe this embarrassment of riches?"

"I thought it was a rule," Draco replied, setting the small bag down on the table. "Flowers and chocolate for Valentine’s. It’s supposed to be romantic."

"Oh, it is," Ginny said. She returned to the table and set the roses down, then stepped closer to him and wrapped one arm around his waist. "Terribly romantic. Thank you so much." She leaned up and kissed him, lifting her other hand to rest lightly against his jaw. He slid one hand around her waist and pulled her closer, running his other hand up along her spine fingers sliding easily over the fabric.

It wasn’t until she had got his tie completely undone and begun working on his shirt buttons that Draco realized what she was about, and pulled back reluctantly. "Dinner," he said to Ginny’s disappointed frown, and dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. "We have reservations."

She widened her eyes imploringly. "We could order pizza..."

Draco shook his head at her. "Then what was the point of you getting all dressed up to go somewhere special, if we were just going to do something we can do any time?"

"There’s no rule saying we can’t dress up for pizza."

"We have reservations," Draco said again. Ginny pouted, but began to refasten his tie. "Although I’m not quite sure why I’m arguing..."

Ginny arched an eyebrow at him. "Too late now," she said, patting him on the chest. "You missed your chance." She tugged lightly on his tie, then stepped away from him and started down the hallway. "Just let me get my purse, and we can go."

Draco watched her go, shaking his head ruefully. There would be time enough for that later; he had a surprise for her and didn’t want to spoil it. They had planned to have dinner together on Valentine’s Day - Ginny had herded the children off to one of her siblings, so they’d have the night to themselves - but Draco had decided to do something special. He smiled to himself and checked his pocket to be sure the small box he’d picked up from Neville was still there.

Ginny re-appeared, purse in hand. "So, do I need to bring a Muggle coat, or can I wear my new cloak?"

"You can wear the cloak," Draco said, leaning over to look at her feet. "Can you walk far in those shoes?"

Ginny raised her eyebrows at him and held out one foot, clad in a low-heeled dress shoe. "Yes...they’re spelled to be comfortable. Why?"

He looked up and smiled at her. "There’s a small walk involved in where we’re going, is all, and I don’t want you to get blisters."

"Oh. And where are we going, again?" Ginny inquired.

"It’s a surprise."

Ginny pouted at him and got her cloak out of the closet, which she twirled around her shoulders. She came back to Draco and took the hand he extended to her. He twined his fingers with hers and reached into the pocket of his coat, pulling out the box Neville had given him. Ginny’s eyebrows rose again. "Isn’t that one of the Ministry’s portkey boxes?"

Draco just smiled and flipped the lid of the box, tipping the small charmed ball into his palm. There was a familiar jerk, and Draco felt Ginny’s hand tighten on his reflexively. She stumbled slightly as they arrived, and he steadied her with one hand.

The change was drastic and immediate - instead of the wintry chill of Britain, it was pleasantly cool. There was a light breeze and the air was redolent with the scent of olive trees and the tang of the sea. Ginny blinked and gasped, peering into the shadows around them. They seemed to be on the side of a badly paved road that sloped down toward a town, the lights
of which were twinkling at the bottom of the hill. The sun had set, but there was still a faint glow in the west, and pinpricks of stars were beginning to appear in the sky above them. "Where are we?"

"If Neville set it up right," Draco smiled and slid his arm around her waist, "we are just outside of Kissamos."

Ginny’s jaw dropped. "We’re where?"

"Kissamos. In Greece. On the island of Crete, in point of fact." Draco beamed at her, pleased that his surprise had gone so well. "If you look off to the north, you can actually see the lights of Athens." He squinted in that direction. "Sort of. Maybe not."

Ginny stared at him blankly. "You portkeyed us to Greece for supper?"

Draco nodded, still smiling. "I did say we were going out for Greek."

"I thought you meant in London!" Ginny shook her head incredulously. "This is...I don’t believe you portkeyed me to Greece! How long did you plan this?"

Draco shrugged. "Couple of weeks. You said to take you somewhere different...I though this would fit the bill."

"It certainly does. This is..." Her voice trailed off and she moved away from him suddenly, taking several steps down the road toward the town. Her shoulders moved sharply as she took a deep breath.

"Ginny?" Draco came up behind her, and reached out to touch her shoulder gently. She turned slightly toward him, and he was shocked to see tears on her cheeks. "I just thought you might enjoy it. If you don’t want to stay, we can go back."

"No...oh no! This is amazing! I just...no one has ever done anything like this for me before." Ginny ducked her head and wiped at her face with her hand. Draco wordlessly reached into his pocket and handed her a handkerchief, which she took gratefully. "I’m not upset at all, I don’t know why I’m crying. This is wonderful. I’ve never been to Greece."

Draco stepped behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders, smoothing the material of her cloak gently. "I’ve only been here once, when I was very little. We went to Athens and Mother took me on a cruise of some of the Islands while my father did...business in the city. I was only six or seven, but it was fun. I went swimming in the ocean, and ran around in old Greek ruins, was horribly sunburnt, got lost on a regular basis, and was generally a huge nuisance to everyone." He felt her shoulders relax slightly under his hands, and slid his hands down her arms and around her waist, pulling her back against him.

"Did you come here?" Ginny asked, leaning back and resting her head against his.

"No...we stayed in the northern part, up in the islands near Athens. Went to Troy, which I found fascinating. Mother complained about all the Muggles, and we didn’t stay there long."

"I’ve been to France and Germany, and to Egypt, when we went to visit Bill just before second year." Ginny sighed deeply and stepped away from him, taking his hand again. "Which was interesting, although Fred and George were impossible on that trip. Not that they aren’t usually. I wanted to become a curse breaker too, when I graduated, but Mum wouldn’t have it after what happened, so I started writing instead."

"Bill?" Draco asked. The name sounded familiar, but he didn’t think he knew who she was referring to.

"My oldest brother," Ginny said quietly. "He was a curse-breaker for Gringotts, and he died during the war. He was called back to England just after the war broke out in earnest, and was flying here by broom. He was attacked by Dementors over the Channel and was overwhelmed. He fell into the ocean and drowned."

"Ah." Draco nodded and mentally kicked himself for asking. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "That must have been terrible for you."

Ginny nodded solemnly. "I don’t think I realized, until then, how serious it really was. That it was really a war, and people would die. We kept thinking that we were safe, that nothing really bad would happen as long as we had Harry, as if he would be able to protect us all, and then Bill..." She closed her eyes, then shook her head sharply and turned to smile at him apologetically. "I’m sorry, this is a terribly depressing topic."

"Not at all," Draco said. "If you want to talk about it, then we can."

Ginny took a deep breath. "No, I don’t. It’s Valentine’s Day, and we are here to have a good time and not worry about the past." She straightened her shoulders and stepped away from him again, taking his hand. "So where is this restaurant you’re taking me to?"

Draco gestured down the road with their joined hands. "Down there...Kissamos is not a very big town, and it’ll probably be fairly quiet, since it’s not the summer season." They started ambling down the road, a companionable silence between them. The walk was a short one, and they soon arrived at the restaurant, on a small side street just off the beach. They were seated on a covered patio by the smiling owner, a swarthy, grinning man almost as wide as he was tall, who ushered them to a small table next to a low stone wall. The wall overlooked a small garden, a small oasis of green and brown that opened out to the beach at the far end. It was shadowed, dark and intimate, each table lit by a single small candle. Ginny arranged her purse and cloak while Draco spoke to the owner in flawless Greek. She raised her eyebrows at him in surprise as he sat down. "I didn’t know you spoke Greek."

Draco nodded. "One of the few side benefits of a classical education; my father wanted me to learn, so I studied it in the summers during school. My Greek is a bit over-formal, but I can usually make myself understood."

"Your father made you take summer school?" Ginny shook her head sympathetically. "That’s awful."

"Actually it wasn’t so bad," Draco said with a shrug. "Gave me something to do, since there weren’t any children near the Manor for me to play with, and everyone I knew lived too far away to meet frequently during the summer. I learned to speak French too, and he made me learn to apparate, the summer before seventh year. And I can play the piano."

"All we ever did was play Quidditch in the yard and tease the ghoul and de-gnome the garden," Ginny said. "Never had to have lessons, but Mum was always trying to come up with ways to trick us into working while thinking we weren’t."

"De-gnoming the garden?" Draco raised his eyebrows. "You had gnomes in your garden?"

"Didn’t you? Dad was always too nice and refused to kill them, so we had to go toss them out every few weeks."

"We never had gnomes," Draco said. "At least, not that I’d ever seen. Of course, we had a fleet of gardeners, so it’s entirely possible we did and I simply never knew. How does one de-gnome a garden?"

"You pick them up and whirl them around ‘til they get dizzy, then toss them over the fence. If you ever come to the Burrow, I’ll teach you how."

Draco wrinkled his nose at her. "As fun as that sounds, I think I’ll skip the practical application."

Ginny grinned. "You’re missing out."

"I’ll take your word for it." He looked up as the owner made his way back to their table and chatted with him at length in Greek while Ginny looked on in amusement.

"Do I want to know what that was all about?" she asked, when the other man had disappeared into the bowels of the kitchen, after grinning expansively at Ginny and shaking Draco’s hand.

"That was me ordering food. I ordered for both of us...I hope you don’t mind."

"Not at all. I wouldn’t know where to begin." Ginny smiled and then inhaled deeply. "It’s so warm! I wish it were like this in England all the time."

Draco laughed. "Antonis - he’s the owner - was just telling me he thought we were crazy to want to sit outside. It’s reasonably warm, but still cool by Island standards, apparently."

They chatted about inconsequentials until the food came, an bewildering array of dishes delivered by Antonis and a smiling young woman who was obviously his daughter. Draco pointed out different foods, laughed as she made faces at the raw tuna, and let her eat most of the mussels. They lingered over the wine, and finally took their leave, thanking the owner profusely, who beamed at them, extolling Ginny’s beauty in halting English. He winked at Draco and said something in Greek that made Draco turn faintly pink and shake his head.

"What did he say?" Ginny demanded once they were out of earshot, but Draco refused to tell her.

"It wouldn’t translate," he said dismissively, his cheeks still tinged with colour.

They wandered down to the beach and walked along the waterline hand in hand, watching the waves creep in. The lights from the small restaurants and hotels along the beachfront, along with the light from the half-moon in the sky gave off enough light that they could see where they were going, reflecting off the wet sand and gleaming on the waves. Ginny sighed happily, swinging their joined hands. "You know, this is absurdly romantic. Flowers and chocolate, a wonderful dinner, moonlit walk along the beach...it’s practically cheesy."

"Cheesy?" Draco sounded affronted. "You’re not supposed to think it’s cheesy, you’re supposed to be swept away by my sensitivity and charm."

"Oh, I am?" Ginny laughed.

"Yes. I’m awing you with my ability to be strong, yet vulnerable, virile, yet generous, manly, yet kind..." Draco stopped and drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist and grinning down at her. "Impressed yet?"

"Oh, terribly," Ginny nodded. "But I warn you, if you start reciting poetry, I shall smack you."

"Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and - ow!" He laughed as she thumped him on the chest, and grabbed her hand before she could hit him again. " Well, you’re certainly not temperate. Just as well, I don’t remember the rest of that one."

"Did you write that?"

"God, no. That’s Shakespeare. I’m not quite at the point where I’m writing my own." Draco shook his head. "And never will be, I hope."

"Thank goodness," Ginny said fervently. "I’m not much of a poetry girl, lest you be harbouring any desire to become a poet in order to impress me. I didn’t know Shakespeare wrote poetry."

"I’ll keep that in mind," said Draco. "You know who Shakespeare is?"

Ginny laughed. "I took Muggle Studies at Hogwarts, and then a creative writing course through a Muggle college not long after I graduated. We studied a few of his plays, but I didn’t care much for him. Had the silliest ideas about witches."

"True. He does have some nice poetry, though. Del took a bunch of upper-level English courses in University, and liked to spontaneously recite them at John and I. His were the only ones I liked."

"Del would be...John’s friend, right?" Ginny smiled at Draco’s nod. "Bet you thought I wasn’t paying attention. How come you brought me to Greece and not to Canada, anyway? Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but I wouldn’t mind seeing somewhere outside of Europe."

Draco made a face. "Are you kidding? It’s cold in Canada this time of year. February’s the worst month to spend winter on the prairies. It’s bloody freezing, Christmas is over, spring nowhere in sight, nothing to look forward to, everything’s a sort of dull grey colour...it’s awful. Not at all romantic."

"Colder than England?"

"Much colder." Draco nestled her against his chest. "And, as I said, dreary and nasty and not a very nice place to be until, say, April. I’ll take you in the summer, when it’s warm."

"All right," she said with a smile, then tilted her head at him. "Do you miss it?" she asked quietly.

Draco paused thoughtfully. "Some things," he finally said. "I miss my house...living in hotels suck, no matter how nice they are. I miss John, and the rest of my friends. And dumb things, like soap and American TV shows and Canadian beer."

Ginny laughed. "You miss beer?"

"What? They make good beer." Draco grinned back and kissed the tip of her nose. "Not that I don’t like English beer, of course, but there’s a local brewery in Alberta that makes a really good wheat ale. I miss it."

"I actually would not have pegged you as a beer drinker, to be honest," Ginny said. "You seem more a wine sort of person. Beer is so...unrefined."

"I’m not that refined."

Ginny snorted. "No, of course not."

"Well, you can think whatever you wish, but I stand by my statement." He looked down at her, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I’m depressingly uncouth."

"Of course you are," she said, laughing. She sighed and snuggled against his shoulder, smiling contentedly.

They stood in silence for long moments, arms wrapped around each other, the sound of the sea in their ears. Draco closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her hair, one hand tracing lazy circles on her back. When he noticed her begin to shiver slightly, he brought his mouth to her ear. "Time to go home?" he whispered softly.

She turned her head and smiled up at him. "I think so. I’m getting cold."

The portkey took them directly back to Ginny’s apartment, which made her raise her eyebrows a bit, but she didn’t comment. Draco relinquished his coat to her, and she hung it up with her own cloak in the closet beside the front door as he wandered to the kitchen counter and leaned casually against it.

"Can I get you anything?" Ginny asked, coming to stand beside him.

"No thank you," Draco said softly, looking down at her with unreadable grey eyes. He reached out and touched her cheek gently with one hand, and she tilted her head toward it and smiled.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Tonight was wonderful."

"You’re welcome. I’m glad you had a good time."

"I did. I’ve never had anyone do something like that for me. It was really the nicest surprise I’ve ever had."

"I’ll keep that in mind for future surprises." He slid his hand down to her neck, his fingers curling in the loose strands of hair at the base of her skull. She swayed toward him slightly and he stepped forward to catch her, his other arm wrapping around her waist, and lowered his mouth to hers. He sighed slightly, holding her tightly, giving in to the desire he always felt around her but kept tightly in check. She murmured softly against his mouth and leaned into the kiss, resting her hands on the counter on either side of him.

Draco pulled away slightly and raised one hand to her cheek, tracing her cheekbone lightly with his fingertips. "Are you..." Draco stopped and cupped her face in his hands.

"Am I what?" Ginny asked huskily, blinking up at him through cinnamon lashes.

"Are you sure you want this?"

She stopped, eyes searching his face for a long moment, then she leaned forward and brushed her lips softly against his in answer. "Yes," she whispered. "I’m sure."

Draco smiled slowly and slid his hands down her neck, kissing her deeply. He could taste wine on her tongue as he explored her mouth with his own, sliding his hands over her shoulders and down her back before drawing them forward so he could rest them against the fullness of her hips, feeling the heat of her skin through her satin dress. He rubbed his thumbs against her hipbones and she moaned, leaning into him. She brought her hands down across his chest and stomach, pulling his shirt out of the waistband of his pants so she could slide them underneath and across his bare skin, her lips curling against his mouth as he gasped at the feel of her hands.

She had worked all of the buttons undone and was sliding it off his arms when Draco managed to lift his mouth from hers and whisper, "Wait."

Ginny frowned and stopped. "What?"

Draco smiled at the look on her face. "I was just thinking that I hadn’t really intended to make love to you on your kitchen floor. At least, not the first time."

Ginny spluttered with laughter. "What, no sense of adventure?"

"All in good time," he said, leaning forward to nip softly at her neck. She swayed toward him with a breathy moan, and he slid one hand around her shoulders, then bent and scooped her off her feet. She let out a small squeak of surprise, and he grinned. He started down the hall and nudged her bedroom door open with one shoulder, setting her down on her feet near the bed. "Much better," he said with satisfaction, kissing her again.

"Hmmm," she said absently, drifting her fingertips over the contours of his chest, sliding her hands up and over his shoulders, pushing his shirt off. He let go of her for a moment to let it drop to the floor, then repeated the motion with her dress, gliding the delicate straps off her arms, bending his head to place small kisses along the curve of her shoulders and along her neck. She hummed softly with pleasure, curving her neck toward him and tracing the muscles of his abdomen with her fingers. Draco groaned softly and covered her mouth with his, sliding his hands down her back and around her waist, then up again to cup her breasts, half-lost in the indescribable sensation of her skin against his. Ginny stepped back once, and then again, until she reached the edge of the bed and sank down on it, pulling him with her, then reached out and turned out the light.

~*~

Draco woke the next morning to the sound of his cell phone ringing. He lay with his eyes closed for a moment; he felt comfortable and warm and sated, and quite possibly the last thing he wanted to do at this moment was to get up and find his telephone. Sod it, he thought sleepily. Whoever it is can bloody well leave a message. As if on cue, the ringing stopped as the voice mail picked up. Draco sighed contentedly and started to drift back to sleep.

The phone started ringing again almost immediately. Draco groaned and cracked an eyelid. The sun was up, streaming through the blinds and drawing striped lines of yellow across the ceiling. He blinked slowly, trying to remember when he’d had blinds installed in his bedroom. After another moment, he remembered that he hadn’t had blinds installed in his bedroom, leading to the obvious conclusion that this must not be his bedroom. That conclusion was borne out on further examination by the unfamiliar wardrobe in the corner, and the decidedly feminine clothing it contained. There also happened to be another person in the bed, who seemed to have an arm wrapped around his chest and a leg draped over both of his. A stray curl of red hair was tangled around his neck. Draco smiled happily. "Good morning," he whispered softly against her temple.

The only response was an irritable grumble.

Note to self. Ginny is not a morning person, he thought, amused. The ringing stopped again.

"Finally," she muttered grouchily against his chest. "Call ‘m back later an’ tell whoever that was to sod off."

"I’ll do that," he murmured, eyes drifting closed again. Later. He really didn’t want to go anywhere right at the moment.

There was a soft pop from the corner of the room.

"Dammit, Malfoy, why the hell aren’t you answering your - oh. Oh. Oh, shit. Sorry. I’m sorry!" Ginny shrieked and dived under the covers. Neville squeezed his eyes shut and turned around quickly, but not before Draco saw him turn several rather alarming shades of red.

"Morning, Longbottom."

"Good morning. Oh, hell."

Ginny unburied her head, clutching the sheets to her chest, and glared at Neville’s back. "Neville, what are you doing in my bedroom?"

"Sorry...I’m sorry. I’ve just - I’m looking for Malfoy, we’ve got a lead, and he wasn’t answering his phone, there’s a charm on it so we can trace him magically, I have one too, I just apparated when he didn’t answer...I didn’t think he was here. Sorry. Sorry!" Neville hunched his shoulders and shuffled his feet, still facing the wall. "I didn’t think - um, hell. Look, how about I just go wait in the kitchen?"

Draco was shaking with suppressed laughter as Neville managed to sidle out of the room without once glancing in the direction of the bed.

"This is not funny!" Ginny hissed. She sat up, sheets clutched to her chest as she glared with equal venom at the door and at Draco, who gave up trying to be quiet and was practically crying, he was laughing so hard. "It’s not! Shut up!"

"The look on his face..." he gasped. "Oh God!"

"Neville Longbottom just Apparated into my bedroom! I fail to see the humour in this situation! I’m going to kill him! NEVILLE, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

A faint "I’m sorry!" drifted from the direction of the kitchen, which only served to set Draco off again.

"Stop laughing!"

Under Ginny’s decidedly unimpressed glare, Draco finally managed to calm down and get dressed, although he had a bad moment or two when he got to the kitchen and Neville blushed to the roots of his hair. He bid a disgruntled Ginny goodbye and followed Neville out the door, as subdued as possible under the circumstances.

Neville maintained an icy silence all the way down to Draco’s car and halfway through the trip to Diagon Alley. Finally he cleared his throat stiffly and growled, "Well, I’d ask if you had a good evening, but it seems a bit of a pointless question."

Draco snorted and glanced at his partner. Neville was slouched in his seat, glaring out the window with his arms folded across his chest. "I did, actually," he said, and smirked as Neville’s glare got a little fiercer and he muttered something under his breath. "What was that?"

"I said I didn’t think you’d...that you would..." Neville blushed again and shut up.

"Who said it was my idea?" Draco smirked, shooting an amused glance at his partner out of the corner of his eye.

Neville squirmed but pressed on. "You couldn’t have waited before you decided to haul her into bed?" he demanded, a hint of outrage in his voice.

"Oh, for crying out loud, we’ve been dating for months," Draco said testily. "It’s not like she’s a virgin, Christ, she has three kids! I think she’s figured out the sex thing by now."

Neville flushed again. "That’s not the point."

"Then what is the point? Besides the fact that you’re embarrassed because you ended up somewhere you weren’t supposed to be?" Draco grinned slyly. "Just be glad you didn’t show up about 6 hours earlier...I would have been a lot less amused."

Neville groaned. "Thank you Malfoy, for that. Because I needed to know, really."

"You’re the gossip...sure you don’t want all the gritty details?"

"I am not a gossip. And no, I do not want details, thank you very much," Neville huffed, and shifted in his seat to glare out the window. Draco just rolled his eyes and concentrated on the road.

"Who’s Laura?" Neville said finally. He felt more than saw Draco’s jump.

"Don’t do that!" Draco said irritably.

"Do what?"

"Spring questions like that on me out of the blue. Jesus." Draco shot Neville a glare before turning his attention back to the road.

"Who is she?"

"None of your - "

"Don’t tell me it’s none of my business. If you are going to carry on some sort of affair with one of my best friends, I want to be sure that you’re not screwing around with her. Now tell me who Laura is. You’ve got a picture of her in your office, she must be important."

Draco’s lips thinned, and his hands tensed on the steering wheel. "She was."

Neville raised an eyebrow at the past tense. "And?"

"And she is dead, Longbottom."

That shut Neville up. They drove on, an intimidating, heavy silence sitting between them. When Draco spoke again, his voice was quiet and measured and very, very calm. "We dated for a year and a half, we lived together, we’d discussed marriage. And then she died. End of story."

"Oh." Neville cleared his throat nervously and fiddled with the edge of his coat. "I’m sorry."

Draco gave a short, sharp laugh. "What for? Wasn’t your fault."

"I just meant..." Neville trailed off.

"I know what you meant." Draco shifted and sighed. "It just bothers me that people always say they’re sorry. You didn’t have anything to do with it, you didn’t know her, and you’re not really. It’s a stupid thing to say."

"I know what you mean." Neville shifted to look at Draco. "My parents...people used to say that all the time, and I hated it."

Draco nodded, staring out at the road.

"You loved her." It wasn’t a question. Draco nodded again, his jaw tensing. Neville glanced over at him and then away. "What happened?"

Draco’s hands tightened on the wheel. "Car accident."

"Oh." Neville cleared his throat again. "What - "

"Look, Longbottom, I do not want to talk about it," Draco snapped. "It was a long time ago and I don’t want to discuss it."

Neville bit his lip and nodded slightly. "All right." He examined Draco’s profile for a long moment, but Draco wouldn’t look at him, and Neville finally gave it up with a sigh.

~*~

Several hours later, Neville groaned and tilted his chair back, scrubbing at his face with his hands. Draco had left an hour earlier, which was almost a relief, as he’d been either imposingly silent or short with people all day, and had driven half the office crazy. Neville felt vaguely guilty about that, since the underlying reason for Draco’s bad mood was largely his fault - the fact that the lead he had hauled Draco out of bed for had turned out to be useless hadn't improved matters. All the same, though, he didn’t have to be so pissy about Neville asking questions. Draco tended to take the whole privacy thing entirely too far.

Neville shook his head sadly. It would be easier if there weren’t so much about Draco - about the person that Draco was now, that Neville didn’t know; things like Laura, whoever she was, that had affected Draco enough that he wouldn’t - or couldn’t - talk about them. They’d been partners for almost a year, he realized with a shock. Almost a year, and he felt no closer to knowing Draco than he had before Draco had left. And he wanted to, Neville admitted, not only out of curiosity, or for Ginny’s sake, but because he actually liked Draco. And not just in a pots-of-chocolate sort of way, as Hermione would say, but as a...a friend, however absurd that might sound. Neville trusted him. But as much has he had changed, there were some things about Draco that hadn’t; it was, for instance, next to impossible to be easy with him sometimes, and he still had an unerring sense for weakness. And he was still secretive, and proud, and arrogant - as Neville had told Hermione, Draco was very good at what he did, and he knew it.

Neville groaned again and looked at the pile of scrolls and parchments on his desk - unfinished paperwork, for the most part, and reports he needed to get caught up on. "I want to go home," he told his paperwork quietly.

"So go." Neville nearly jumped out of his skin, looking around wildly. Cecil Dobbins was standing in the door of his office, arms folded. "No sense staying here...paperwork will still be here in the morning."

"That sounds like a grand idea," Neville said with a sigh. "Been a hell of a day."

"I’m not surprised, with that albino partner of yours hanging about like the wrath of doom. What’s got into him?" Cecil asked. It seemed like an idle question, but Neville knew better.

He shrugged at his boss. "Personal issues."

Cecil nodded thoughtfully. "Huh. He leave?"

Neville nodded faintly. "I made him go home, he was getting on my nerves."

Cecil chewed on the ends of his moustache thoughtfully."How’s the case going?"

"Well as can be expected, considering we have no clues and nothing to go on." Neville shook his head and gazed morosely at his desk. "Bit draining, to tell the truth."

"We can always declare it dead," Cecil pointed out.

"Not while it’s still happening."

"Huh. Good point." Cecil straightened up. "Well, keep me posted. Go home, get some rest, order some take-out or something. And tell that partner of yours that if he bullies my secretary again like he did today I’ll boot his ass back to Canada myself." He spun on his heel and left, swinging the door shut behind him, leaving Neville laughing silently to himself.

~*~

When Neville arrived at his office the next morning, Draco was sitting in his visitor’s chair, leaning forward with his elbows on the edge of Neville’s desk and his head in his hands. He didn’t even look up as the door opened. "Maybe you can explain to me why, exactly, the two of us seem to be completely incapable of tracking down two irritating little street punks with porridge for brains."

"Because we’re both so good at our jobs?" Neville sighed, coming around the corner of his desk to sit in his chair. "Because we’re the best and brightest the wizarding world has to offer?"

"Apparently," Draco said with some disgust. "There’s been another one."

"Fantastic."

Draco sighed deeply and raised his head long enough to shove a piece of paper at Neville. "Here, read it yourself."

Neville read, and groaned when he was done, leaning forward to imitate Draco’s pose, head in hands. "Oh, bloody hell."

"Could this day possibly get any better?" Draco asked conversationally.

The door to Neville’s office opened, and Harry Potter walked in.

~*~

NB: I can’t take credit for the toy cowboys and Indians, I outright stole the idea from Lynne Reid Banks, author of The Indian in the Cupboard, and full credit should go to her.
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