More Than Anyone

I’m Gonna Love You More Than Anyone…

Chapter 3-A Chance Again

"And I'm haunted

By the lives that I have loved

And actions I have hated.

And I, I'm haunted

By the promises I made

And others I have broken."

- Poe, "Haunted"

“Draco,” a female voice cooed seductively, thin arms encircling a certain light-haired man’s neck.

“What is it you want, Amanda?” Draco said, almost tiredly. He was looking over some papers on his desk and felt very exhausted. It was already around midnight and he had yet to finish reading the documents about a deal he needed to close.

“Nothing you can’t give, Draco,” the girl purred again in his ear, not achieving her desired effect. Draco tilted his head irritably as the girl breathed in his ear.

“Not right now, I’m not done yet,” he told her coldly. She didn’t seem to have gotten the message and just tightened her hold on his neck, but not to the point of strangling him. There was still much left to be done, re-checking the legal papers, checking if the contracts were still new so that if they were not, he could renew them, and he was not even half done with them.

Amanda grumbled dramatically, rolling her eyes as he worked. Draco didn’t particularly care if he upset her. She was only one of his flings, women he dated for public purposes only.

Four years after the war, he had become the big boss in his own corporation. Malfoy Inc. was an ancestral business started generations ago by Victorio Malfoy. It had got larger and larger, and now, they were incredibly filthy rich.

Of course, he had not been easily accepted by his employees, for he was too young to manage the business, but he quickly showed them that he was deserving of his job.

A part of his job was to act as if he were enjoying it. That he was in the top of his game and that he had everything anyone in his place would want – especially a beautiful girlfriend.

Amanda fit the bill quite completely. She was well-known with the upper crust society and the only smudge she had on her record was when she had disappeared for a year just two years ago. There were speculations and rumours as to what she had done with her long absence, and one of them was true. She had got pregnant and given birth.

Draco was a person who made sure that if he did something or committed himself to something, he was sure of what he was getting himself into. When he found this out from his private investigator, he convinced himself that the only way to persuade her completely to accept his terms was to use this advantage.

He had promised that as long as she was with him, he’d take care that the child was fed and taken care of. He had also sworn that no one would know of her secret from him and that she’d be happy if she were to be with him. She had complied, and had done what she had been told.

She was free to ask for money, but she never did. Instead, she asked for incredibly expensive jewellery. They were followed everywhere by reporters, trying to see what they had bought latest, making sure to report how generous Draco was to his girlfriend.

But Draco knew that she sold most of the jewellery he’d given her, for he never saw them again. It was all right with Draco how she used his gifts to sustain her lifestyle and her child. Just as long as it didn’t make both of them look bad. (And in this aspect, he found out that she was really good at what she did.)

Amanda was speaking again, but Draco turned a deaf ear to her. He was trying to concentrate on all of his paperwork. Just looking at it annoyed him. It was hard enough to go through all of this, much less listen to his ‘girlfriend’ blab on about something simultaneously.

He shouldn’t even be the one doing any of this. What he basically was supposed to do was to direct his assistants rather than get down and dirty with the paperwork. His job was getting one of his five assistants to tell him the summary of what the paper contained, and if the assistant gave even an ounce of doubt about what he/she had said, then he’d read some lines on his own and then sign it. But alas, he had gained a small amount of compassion for his workers—one thing he had long ago promised himself he was never going to gain—in the span of four years away from that asylum-like house Harry Potter now called ‘home’, and had let them go off to mind their affairs.

He still didn’t understand Harry Potter, with his jet-black hair always so messed up it made impeccable Draco cringe. Harry would suddenly Apparate into his office to chat or ask something he knew was of Draco’s expertise, and would be gone after a while. (He had never severed his bonds with Draco even when the saviour of the wizarding world had gone back to Hogwarts to finish his studies so that he could become an Auror.)

In fact, his debt of life as he knew it just got even bigger when they started their real life outside Grimmauld Place.

Harry had almost been beheaded by an extremely stinky troll and luckily for him, Draco had saved him. Draco didn’t even ask how it had happened, nor did he question his saving of the saviour’s life once again. He had just done it - just as Harry had saved the world like a global superman.

In return, Harry didn’t ask just why Draco had also been there to save him. Draco couldn’t quite summon the exuberance of telling Harry that the particular troll had once served the Malfoy Family (it was before Draco’s time, respectively) and Draco had just been there to give the troll a few Galleons the Malfoys had yet to pay him. By few he meant, of course, a few hundred Galleons. Telling Harry that troll was a servant of his family was just not done, even though it was not in any way Draco’s fault.

So Potter had repeated what he’d said, ‘Take another item of much importance to me or anything that would repay my large debt to you and it shall be given.’ Draco had yet to think of anything that would appease him, or truthfully, anything that he couldn’t get on his own, so he left the debt standing. In time, he thought to himself, unconsciously very conniving Malfoy-ish.

“You shouldn’t be the one doing that,” Amanda whined, voicing Draco’s reaction at seeing all the paperwork. “Tell one of your secretaries to do it for you.” She waved a hand dismissively, kissing Draco’s temple. Draco sighed, tired and exasperated.

“Yes, they should, but not today,” he told her shortly. Maxim’s wife had given birth just a week before and he hadn’t even asked for a day off, saying that it was convenient his child was born on a Saturday. But the man was desperate to help his wife in taking care of their child just for today for the nanny was late and would arrive the following day, and Draco had given in.

Becky’s mother’s death had affected her so; she looked so grieved and out of it that Draco had taken one look at her, cringed, and told her she could go home.

He had caught Samantha snogging with the fifth floor’s janitor on the rickety stairway practically no one used (though he did, since he thought he could get exercise from climbing it, but instead, got more of a disgusting eyeful of the janitor) and had quickly fired both.

So okay, he hadn’t gained much compassion. But he was sure that it wasn’t gained quickly. It took time, and someone like Draco who was considered bad to the bone (and even he had considered himself that when Pansy had said it seductively in his ear their fourth year inside the Hogwarts Express compartment—which did nothing but inflate Draco’s ego) would take even more time than most should have.

Still, he knew he was right. It was very disturbing and, and anyway, he still had all ninety janitors to clean his forty-floor building – and that particular rickety stairway spotlessly cleaned to be assured that all ‘marks’ of his former assistant and janitor were wiped clean.

The other two, he had told them to just go for the day since he was feeling quite generous. But not before telling them to get him a new assistant quickly, and in a matter of two hours, they had got a Hogwarts graduate student. Their job done, they had taken their leave.

In short, Draco really hadn’t known what he was in for when they had left even before lunch break. Work had piled up quicker than he thought it was possible and he had been stuck inside his office ever since, grumbling for tea and scones as he worked. Then Amanda had come just a few minutes earlier, which had done nothing to alleviate his annoyance. In fact, she even added to his growing irritation.

“So, Draco, you haven’t let me answer yet what I want you to give,” she reminded him as sweetly as a Veela could—if she were one.

“Answer, then,” he replied tersely.

“I want a certain piece of jewellery,” she said slowly, a Spanish tinge to her accent. This was Amanda Calisto’s forte. Asking for anything she wants and getting it quickly and never denied completely. Sure, sometimes she got negative answers, but she could swiftly turn the tide to her favour.

“What piece?”

“The one your mother was wearing around her neck to the opera…” she said delicately, thinking that getting cosier with Draco would make him say yes.

He instantly stiffened, but didn’t face her.

“Do you know what you’re asking for?” The tone was cold, laced with menace but she was used to his coldness and wasn’t able to read the menace that was laced with it.

“It’s nice,” she said, looking at her long, crimson-coloured polished nails.

“If it’s my mother’s jewellery, it’s more than you could possibly pay even if you prostituted yourself for forty more years,” he said cuttingly.

Amanda quickly drew away, cut by his sharp words that rang true in her head. “W-what did you say?” she whispered shakily, unable to comprehend. Draco had an inkling that what she felt inside that room was what one would feel seeing the sky darken as grey clouds cover the sun’s light and bolts of lightning strike. She felt fear. She wanted to run, but stayed glued to her place, selfishness, greed and pride holding her feet captive to the ground.

He knew because he could see a part of him, of every single person who thrived in the upper crust, in her right now, when they are rattled and taken out of their territory.

“We both know what you are, whom you have sold yourself to. You can’t play pretend with me,” he said darkly, not bothering to stand up. If he stood up, he might strangle the girl to death, and he didn’t want his pictures plastered on the walls and called ‘mass-murdering Malfoy’. It wouldn’t go with the image that the public now viewed him.

Four months ago, his heroic deed of saving Harry Potter, who killed Voldemort, had been very much publicised with Harry Potter finally winning completely against the Dark Lord.

When there was a picture of Harry Potter anywhere, it was automatically pasted side by side with Draco’s. So on and so forth. The public ate up his good boy-bad boy portrait. He couldn’t understand it, since there was nothing he thought of boasting, but posed when cameras clicked nonetheless.

He was always on magazines, mostly on women-oriented ones. The women seemed to adore him, and well, he adored women in general. Because of his great influence, his private life was very much hands-off to everyone but to his closest friends.

Draco Malfoy liked his life now, so he wasn’t going to do anything to mess it up yet. But he never took anyone saying anything or doing anything rude towards his mother. Narcissa Malfoy was on Draco’s highest pedestal and could not be soiled by anyone. She was the perfect, most loving mother, he knew it, and would do anything to protect her.

Amanda looked as though she had just been slapped and pushed up a wall—and not the way she wanted. “How-dare-you!” she gritted out, hands balling and clenching into fists at her sides. She was within slapping distance of Draco as she talked. “You’ve no right to tell me that! And when have I ever asked for money? Some jewellery, fine! You have plenty of money for buying me trinkets to spare! And it’s not as if you haven’t used me too!” She glared at him challengingly. He peered at her apathetically. “Besides, I’m asking for it so that you won’t have to spend a Sickle,” she suddenly said, expression toning down, as if she was ready to forgive Draco if he just asked.

Draco’s eyes suddenly gleamed dangerously and she took a step back in trepidation. He stood up slowly, and started to walk. Every step he took forward, she took a step back until she found herself inches away from his door.

“I really don’t understand what the expression ‘how dare you’ means. Do you? I don’t even believe it’s grammatically correct, but it’s accepted because it’s been a long-time expression whenever people are riled up.” He was talking nonsense, he knew it. It helped take out some of the anger that he felt, or else he might melt the Spanish woman in front of him only with his mind.

He was, of course, undoubtedly a wizard. Magic was in his blood, and if Harry Potter could make his aunt bloat, then he could melt his girlfriend. “But now, I’m too angry to think straight, Amanda. And I suggest you leave. Don’t even try any of your tricks on me; we know what’ll happen if anything bad reaches the paper,” he said, turning away from the woman and sitting back on his chair. Amanda looked as though she was about to argue, but thought better of it and clamped her mouth shut and took her leave.

This discussion wasn’t worth the money loss and humiliation she would get if everyone knew of what Draco had found out about her. She was hurrying down the elevator and was too angry to even try and flirt with the beautiful black-haired man who was inside the elevator, who strode off towards Draco Malfoy’s office.

OxOxOxOxO

Someone knocked at Draco’s door, but he didn’t bother stand up. He was busy signing some business deals to look up. The door opened by itself, signalling that whoever had entered had let him- or herself in.

“I told you to take your leave,” Draco said curtly.

“I’m not your girlfriend, Draco,” a deep, masculine voice said, making Draco look up in recognition. He leaned his back onto the back of his big ‘throne’.

“Ah, Blaise, you saw her leave?” he asked and Blaise nodded in affirmation. “What brings you here at such a late hour?”

“A problem, of course,” the man said. Truly, Blaise was striking in the most elegant way. He was darkly handsome, with hair so dark and eyes Slytherin-green (unlike Harry’s) with a dark gold complexion only the rich could acquire and no amount of real self-sun-tanning could do. He was the dark to Draco’s light. They were both striking in their own ways, and people admired them for their beauty. Most had thought they were lovers, for what or who would be the woman who could match their beauty? They were refined and elegant, cunning and vigilant.

Maybe these were the reasons why they got along together. They were close friends and nothing could severe their bond - much like the bond of Draco and Harry.

“State the problem,” Draco ordered softly, closing his eyes and massaging his temples.

“Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes just won’t merge with us,” Blaise said, straight-to-the-point.

Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, which was owned by Fred and George Weasley, had slowly grown into a burgeoning chain of joke shops stretching from the Leaky Cauldron to Hogsmeade and to other wizarding cities as well. And investing in it, Draco thought, would be extremely wise.

“Why is that?” Draco frowned. He hadn’t expected much resistance from Fred and George. Then again, it wasn’t them Draco had saved. But as far as he knew, they were at peace with each other.

“Weasley doesn’t want to make abrupt decisions,” he explained, cold disdain heavily on his tone. “She didn’t want to make decisions she might regret.”

That caught his attention. What? “Well, you’re obviously not talking to the owners. Fred and George Weasley are he’s – or they seemed to be, as I remember, and they are the owners. Who were you talking to, anyway?”

“They’re in Romania,” Blaise drawled in reply, his tone and expression suggesting it would be a bore to try and get a hold on them in Romania. It would never cross his mind to write a note and send it via Owl Post. No one made deals like that. It was not unheard of, but it would be unsafe. “We had to talk to their representative.”

Draco’s patience was growing thin. First it was the fight with Amanda, and then this problem with the merging of enterprises. What was wrong with these people?

“Who is this bother?” he asked Blaise once again, the urge to just Avada Kedavra that person growing.

“Their sister - I think her name is Virginia Weasley.” Blaise shrugged carelessly.

“Ginevra Weasley,” Draco automatically corrected, and then realisation dawned on him.

OxOxOxOxO

“What? I can’t hear you properly.” Ginny ran her hand over her face, irritated. The twins were taking turns talking to her through the fireplace. Their heads were floating on the blue fire, distracting some of the WWW employees because of their loud voices.

“George said—” Fred started to say but George quickly cut in.

“No, that was you, Fred,” George cut in rather snappishly, correcting him.

“Oh, right. Ginny.” Fred looked at her seriously. It made her uneasy to see such a serious expression on this particular brother of hers. Even George was inclined to more straight faces than Fred was. “There will be mergers trying to bug you while we’re here with Charlie. What we’re trying to say is—”

“Whatever you do, don’t merge with them yet,” George finished for him, pushing his twin out of the way so that he was staring deep into bright brown eyes. Ginny had always envied her twin brothers’ eyes because she loved the colour.

“Wait for us to return,” Fred piped up, barely visible from George’s back.

“Which will be?” Ginny inquired, her arms crossed.

“Three weeks, the latest,” they chorused. Fred was now the twin visible while George could be heard cursing at the noise of a dragon.

“Remember that, Ginny. We don’t want to be hasty in making decisions,” Fred warned her. She nodded in agreement.

“I wouldn’t want to make a decision for both of you either. I might make one which is unfavourable to you both,” she answered. Fred looked incredulous and shook his head, waving his hand dismissively.

“Nah, we trust you, Gin. If you’re to make a decision, it would be a sensible one,” Fred said, flashing his winning smile that usually made Angelina roll her eyes at her fiancé but blush all the same when he used it on her.

“Still,” she said stubbornly, looking a bit distracted because of the shouts of one of their employees: ‘We’re out of bugger-flavoured cereals!!’

Fred looked towards his back; inquiring something to George she wasn’t able to catch. “Now? Aw, bugger,” he said, turning to face Ginny again. “Listen, Ginny, not that we don’t trust you or anything, but be careful with our shops. WWW is our baby,” he said, almost looking pained at being torn away from his company.

That made her laugh. “Yes, yes. I’ll be sure to take good care of it,” she promised. “No, hurry off and enjoy your vacation,” she said, grinning. Fred saluted and George waved. They both disappeared and the fire turned back to its normal shade.

The knocks after their meeting were numerous. There would be problems on some short-handed stocks and she’d help locate some more. They were earning far better than what they’d anticipated and it made Ginny grin in glee. That meant more pay. At least if the twins weren’t thinking of another thing to invent when they got here and needing their hard-earned money to fund a new project.

Now they were dubbed The Twins. And pranksters (kids everywhere, mostly) said their names as if they were saints to be worshipped. They never ceased to amaze her with their endless creativity. Ideas just kept on flowing and flowing and money kept on flying and flying in. George and Fred were overwhelmed with the money and the first thing they had done with their first big pay was repair The Burrow. Molly Weasley had cried in happiness, Arthur had looked closed to tears, so proud that the twins had finally done something responsible and heart-warming.

Working for the twins had been a surprisingly sensible choice for Ginny. She had yet to be at ease anywhere else. She had tried several shops. She had even applied for Madam Malkin’s, but she had found that it didn’t suit her at all. All the silky clothes and the pins that hurt when you were pierced did not appeal to her in any way.

It had never been her dream to be an Auror, and Harry had been very much disappointed when she had declined his suggestion. But her explanation that she didn’t want to chase nor have anything to do with criminals or evil people anymore had softened him quickly and everything had been all right again.

There were other opportunities that had come, but her heart seemed to push away anything else that came her way.

She was reminded of what she had done in the war, how she served for the cause. How she had helped those who were injured and put shelter over their heads. She was good with people, and she had thought it might become a good job if she wanted to be a Healer. Sure, she had applied as a Healer, but deep within her heart, she didn’t feel it was right for her. It was too… compassionate for a job. The emotions the job would bring would not be good for her. It would bring too many emotions to surface. She hadn’t enjoyed seeing such gruesome wounds on those she had healed in the past. And she had told herself before it was a one-time thing, nothing she would make a career of.

“Is this your dream job Weasley, to become a Mediwitch? I can’t imagine why one would want to be a Mediwitch.” What a person had said before to her suddenly rang in her ears as she pondered it. The words were frank, not much thought of to be perfectly honest, and it spoke of being sheltered. Whoever had spoken these words had never experienced being in an ordinary household, where there were no house-elves to serve you and you knew you’d have to fend for yourself when the time came for you to leave school.

“I don’t expect you to understand, Draco,” she said to herself in a soft voice, sarcastic in tone. “In fact, I don’t think you’d care at all.”

But still, Ginny couldn’t understand why it mattered to her slightly that he thought it was a condescending job… maybe that was one of the reasons she didn’t want to make a career out of it.

OxOxOxOxO

Blaise raised a trimmed eyebrow at Draco questioningly, but no other expressions graced his face. “You know her?” he asked him.

Draco flicked his wrist, which he was using to rest his head on, in a careless manner. “A mere acquaintance,” he said monotonously. There was no emotion in his face, so Blaise’s scrutinising look was useless.

Blaise’s family had thought best not to intervene with the war. They were neutral, despite their Slytherin roots. He didn’t judge Draco for picking the good side. He would’ve done the same thing, if he had been forced to make a choice. It was the winning choice, for more people had chosen to fight for the Order after all. Only a person who had bid too much and risked not just their lives but the lives of their family for their personal gain would choose the dark side. And they had not triumphed at all.

He inquired no longer and Draco was relieved, though he didn’t show it. “What do you suggest we do?” he asked Blaise.

Blaise tapped his forehead with his index finger lightly, as if retrieving a memory or thinking of a way. Draco never failed to be amused by his friend’s weird gesture. It was the only thing he did which was strange. The man was so formal even when relaxed. He was somewhat of an introvert, even in their years of schooling in Hogwarts. He would rather be submerged in books than planning petty ways to annoy Harry Potter. But he had basked in the triumph when they humiliated The Boy Who Lived.

“I suggest that we try again, of course. If she is an acquaintance -” he nodded his head towards the silver-blond-haired boy as he circled the room like a panther waiting and ready to pounce, his steps slow but calculated. It made no sound on Draco’s wooden flooring. He favoured wood over a carpet for he wanted to hear whenever someone was approaching but it proved useless when it was Zabini doing the pacing. “- then she’d be easier to persuade if you do it yourself.”

Draco’s eyebrows raised a notch and if he had been leaning his elbow on the edge of the table, he would’ve fallen in surprise. “What?” he asked Blaise blankly, startled.

“You should come with me when we try again,” Blaise said, his tone of voice suggesting that the immediate course of action was appropriate for deals like this. It went hand-in-hand with the expression ‘cut to the chase’.

Draco shook his head disapprovingly. “I doubt that would do any good, Blaise. When Gin-nevra makes her mind, it is hard to make her change it.” He almost said her nickname but he easily corrected himself. He felt it was better to keep what had transpired in Grimmauld Place four years ago a secret from Blaise, but wasn’t certain where that came from, since he was so used to carelessly telling the man everything. They were like best friends, if such a relationship existed in their society.

“Work your charms on her then,” Blaise shrugged. Draco suddenly remembered that once before, Blaise had considered Ginny worth looking at: he had even told pug-faced Pansy, but was too proud a Slytherin to ever approach Ginny. That was before; Draco didn’t know if it was still true now.

“Charms? I doubt that will work much on a person involved, or rather, in love with Harry Potter.” They both made a sound akin to snorting in unison, looking disdainfully away. “Your charms didn’t work?” Draco inquired.

“I haven’t faced her yet.”

“You led me to believe you have,” Draco pointed out, somewhat irritated. He didn’t know it, but somewhere in his brain—and in his heart—a part of him asked what if Blaise still thought Ginny was worth looking at? Surely the man would use his own charms to snatch her—if she was snatch-able, what with her situation of being in love with Harry Potter and all.

“I have spoken to her, yes. But not face to face: I used the fireplace.” Blaise’s green eyes darted about the room as he thought, his hands stuffed inside his pockets. Draco lay back against the back of his chair and briefly closed his eyes. He didn’t want to do this work anymore. Tomorrow was another day. He’d let his assistants take care of this.

“Then see if you can persuade her on your own first. If you can’t then I shall try.” He fiddled with his collar, pretending that it was constricting his Adam’s apple.

Blaise nodded, Draco’s fiddling not lost on him. “Very well then, I shall try. But I make no promises that I shall succeed. But I do give my word that I shall do my best,” he said and departed, walking out of Draco’s office without even saying goodbye. They were always that way. There was no need for good byes.

Draco shook his head, emitting a cricking sound from his neck. He stretched, suddenly feeling very tired. He looked up at the ceiling he had enchanted to depict the universe outside. He saw a multitude of stars and the crescent shape of the moon, glowing so brightly it hurt to look at it for a long period with his tired eyes.

Ginny Weasley. He really had not thought of seeing her for a long time. Sure, she dwelled in his mind day after day, but he did not hope to stay true to their words that they would see each other again. They were grown ups now, and they were no doubt both committed to their work. What had happened at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place had been a pleasant mistake. But as pleasant as it had been, he didn’t want to be the one to break the much gossiped-about relationship of the famous Harry Potter and the kind-hearted Mediwitch from the war, Ginny Weasley.

He wasn’t devious towards people he now considered to some extent his friends. He did not want to destroy the peace they now experienced. What had happened was best left as it was. A memory one might remember when one had the time to. Not when one was busy running an ancestral business. Or a joke shop, in her case.

He slammed his palm flat on his table, sending some papers tumbling. He didn’t pay it much heed. His assistants would fix that. He didn’t care if they were pissed. They had got their free day off after all. Sure, he had learned a bit of compassion, but he wasn’t a bloody saint.

For a long time, he sat there, giving the impression that he was thinking hard, when his mind was very much blank. He tried to think. He didn’t like it when he wasn’t thinking. It made him uncomfortable.

He heard a tapping sound come from his large glass window that oversaw the whole of the wizarding city Melania. Melania was near Knockturn Alley and quite far from Hogsmeade. Most businesses were there. It was the business wizarding capital of England and famous brand companies and magazine publications like Witch Weekly had their buildings there. When he was younger, he thought Diagon Alley was the centre of everything, but compared to Melania, it was just… well, an alley.

The sky was a deep dark shade of blue, reminding him of a painting he had once admired when he was young. It portrayed stars and the moon, and swirling designs of light in the sky and wispy clouds in the night. There was a very big, dark building that loomed intimidatingly taller than any other buildings in the vicinity of the city. It reminded him of Malfoy Inc. He had asked his mother once if she could buy it for him but she had laughed at his childishness, amused. His father had sniffed disdainfully, telling him it was a Muggle painting, and had not moved. He had said he’d rather not taint the Malfoy Manor walls with such trash.

Although Draco had quite disagreed, he had played along, thinking that perhaps his father was right. Whatever he had wanted, it had quickly been given to him, no questions asked. That was how his parents had showed their love and affection for their child, apart from teaching him how to ride a horse and bringing him to wizarding plays. He was still fond of the painting; he had tried to reciprocate it but to no avail. His mother said it was lovely, but he thought otherwise. Nonetheless, he didn’t bother thinking about the painting much anymore as time went on. He wouldn’t have it anyway, so why bother?

But now that he remembered the painting, he wanted it again. He didn’t know in which museum it could be located, or even if it still existed. He had seen it in one of his family visits to France, where his mother had spent her life before marrying.

He walked toward the glass window and slid it open, letting a falcon inside. It was his mother’s falcon, Visus with his beautiful elegant feathers and proud, sharp head. Visus meant ‘seeing’ in Latin and his mother had thought it appropriate for the falcon with its observant eyes. It held its left claw up, where a letter was tied, evidently for Draco. He fed Visus a crumb.

He opened the small scroll and read its contents. It only comprised of two words, commanding in nature.

Come home.

That was it. Come home. Perhaps his mother felt unrest that her son was not yet home. He scratched a light eyebrow guiltily, starting to fix some of his things he was to bring home. He sighed, snapping his fingers, a command to Visus, and the falcon perched itself on his right shoulder.

“Let’s go home, Visus,” he said tiredly to the falcon.

He locked the door of his office with eight different magical words. Not that it was needed. There were human and troll guards patrolling the whole building. Still, you couldn’t be too careful.

OxOxOxOxO

Ginny yawned as she checked the list of ‘toys’ they sold at the Melania City branch of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. People were already waiting impatiently outside for the store to open. It was close to nine o’clock in the morning and she was still very sleepy. She had stayed up late watching a movie with Harry while cuddling on the couch. They hadn’t done anything much, just really cuddled, which was a bit disappointing. Sure, Harry respected her and all, wanting to wait until she was ready. But when would that be?

And besides that fact, she rarely got to see Harry these past few months. He was so busy solving some mafia business that the last time they had seen each other before last night was, well… a very long time ago.

There were boxes and boxes of trinkets piled until the highest shelves. The increase of buyers had forced them to open more and bigger shops and to employ more employees to help with the work.

“Miss Weasley, where do you want this Exploding Slime?” An employee with brown hair tied up high in pigtails asked her, carrying a big box of plastic containers which contained varying colours of slime that stuck to anything and exploded quickly afterwards. There was still an empty shelf at the far corner of the shelf close to the doors of the shop. She pointed there and the employee quickly scurried off.

At least her brothers knew how to employ good help. They wanted those who were hard-working, worth their pay, and who had a passion for pranks. And the employees in the Melania branch were certainly that. She had never seen a chipper bunch that loved their job more in her life.

There really wasn’t anything to complain about in the job since the twins were firm but nice bosses. They were fair with the fee and fair with the employee’s wages. The employees loved them and their patrons loved them even more. She didn’t know how they did it, but what a business they had! She also loved working here, seeing the mischievous looks children (the majority of their buyers) flashed when they saw a particular trinket that caught their naughty attention. It reminded her of all of her siblings in their turns. Even Percy had that look and all seven of them looked identical when they did that mischievous grin that promised one hell of a time for them and bystanders.

She checked her watch. The arrow was millimetres to ‘opening time’ at the left side of her blue watch.

“Okay, people,” she called out, clapping her hands, her list tucked under her arm. “Seconds before opening time; get to your posts!” The three cash registrars and the five other employees all assembled at their places, thumbs up to show they were ready. The people outside who looked at them through the glass doors readied themselves anticipatively.

“In five, four, three, two -” She raised her wand, pointing to the lock and shouted, “ONE!” Everything happened so fast. The doors quickly bolted open and the shop was quickly filled with several noises. The cash registers were clicking noisily as money was deposited inside. There were choruses of ‘have a nice day’ and ‘welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes’ and several others that Ginny heard. She smiled and made her way to her office. She would wait for calls and reports from there.

The day progressed as it usually did until her secretary knocked on her door and told her that there was a ‘Mr. Blaise Zabini’ who would like to talk to her. She frowned. She had spoken to Zabini before but not personally. She had refused the offer, saying that it wasn’t her place to make decisions.

“Can’t you tell him to come again?” she pleaded, but her secretary, who was blushing furiously because of the close proximity she had with the dark-haired man, shook her head.

“He’s very adamant, Miss Weasley. He says he won’t go until he has a word with you,” she said, still red in the face.

Ginny sighed. Best get this over with. “Very well, send him in here.”

Her secretary nodded promptly and disappeared. There was another knock on the door and a tall, good-looking man appeared, looking around her small office observantly. It made Ginny uncomfortable.

It would be an outright lie to say he was not beautiful. The man was gorgeous! In black robes that fit his tall, broad shape and jet-black hair tousled perfectly fashionable. He looked like a model from one of the novels Hermione has been reading secretly from their fifth year until present. His green eyes were very different from Harry’s, for his were darker and mysterious. There was an air of dignity and enigma in his step that she couldn’t ignore. He was the type school girls worshipped, that made grown women flock to him and love him so adoringly that they were on the verge of being addicted—if they were not already.

His eyes stopped travelling and looked at her sitting form, nodding in acknowledgement. “Good morning, Miss Weasley,” he greeted her.

“Good morning, Mr. Zabini, please take a seat.” He looked at the stuffed couch and seated himself, his back ramrod straight, legs crossed in a casual manner, his green eyes trained on her. “What would you wish to discuss?”

What she liked about Blaise Zabini (judging from the first time they had talked and presently) was that he cut to the chase. He didn’t prolong what was inevitable unless it was to be used in his own gain. “Miss Weasley, as you know, our company would like to merge with Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. We feel that it would be a good opportunity for both parties if we invested in you and you would let us merge with you.”

She frowned. She really didn’t understand much about business. Sure, she could organise and order around the staff and check out their other branches, but aside from that, she really didn’t do much. “I’m really not in a position to decide, Mr. Zabini. The decision rests with my brothers. I’m not really sure what merging would do.”

“It would be helpful to both our business,” was his only reply.

“Yes, that much is obvious,” she said, a bit annoyed, but looking up at him, the annoyance melted away. It was hard to be angry for a long period with such a good-looking bloke. “But the agreements, and everything else in between, I’ve no idea about it. I’d rather my brothers handle this, Mr. Zabini. They have informed me just yesterday that they are about to come home.” She smiled slightly, hoping this would ease Zabini a bit. There was no expression on his handsome face. “So I hope you’ll be able to wait til then.”

He seemed to ponder this, and uncrossed his legs. “I shall ask my associate what his opinion is on this matter. Apart from that, I thank you for your time, Ms. Weasley.” He had the courtesy to smile, and she blushed when he did. He had a little resemblance to her Harry, but had the mystery card playing for him. It was hard to admit but he was ten times more handsome than her Harry was.

“And I thank you for yours.” She smiled kindly and he nodded, standing up and shaking her hand firmly. His hands were exceptionally soft, reminding Ginny of a person whom she had months ago shaken hands with, that had similar hands.

Blaise Zabini left just as Ginny’s secretary opened the door, and her secretary looked wistfully at Zabini’s retreating back. “There goes my prince charming,” her secretary sighed wistfully, making Ginny grin. Oh, how love-struck she looked. It was just an example of how Blaise Zabini could charm any girl without even trying. Ginny was lucky he really hadn’t tried anything with her. She didn’t know how she would have handled it.

OxOxOxOxO

Draco had decided to give himself a holiday and sent forth a letter to tell his assistants and the vice-president of Malfoy Inc. to take care of the office while he was gone for the day.

He was still sleeping when he heard a sound at the back of his head and light struck his closed eyes, making him groan in annoyance, sit up and cringe. He had his grey eyes narrowed, seeing his heavy curtains pulled to the sides and the ominous shape of Blaise Zabini stood, leaning on his window, looking down at him from his spot.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here, Blaise?” he mumbled, sitting up ad resting his head against the headboard of his large bed.

Blaise’s arms were crossed and he turned his head to look at the garden view of Draco’s window. “She didn’t agree,” he said coolly.

“Who? Some girl you asked to sleep with you?” he asked tiredly, uninterested in whatever Blaise had to say. He lay down again and pulled up his dark emerald- green comforter to his shoulders. “Better luck next time then, mate.”

“I didn’t mean that. And no one ever says no to me,” Blaise informed him darkly. “I meant Ginevra Weasley, your friend,” he said coldly, annoyed at Draco’s teasing.

“Acquaintance,” Draco corrected him sleepily, covering his mouth as he yawned.

“Whatever you wish to call her,” Blaise said dispassionately. “She did not agree. She suggested we wait for the twins to come back before we ask to merge again. We can’t wait that long, but it is useless to talk to the woman.”

“Did you use your charms on her?” Draco said, finally looking awake and sat up to listen seriously.

Blaise shook his head and walked to a wooden chair with a green-cushioned body. “She’s with Harry Potter. Bloody good that would bring. She doesn’t know anything about business; it’s obvious in the way she works and how she answered me. She even confessed it to me.”

“Okay then, we wait,” Draco said, calling for a house-elf to bring him and Blaise tall glasses of water.

Blaise huffed. “A waste of time. How do we know how soon they’ll be coming back? What if it takes them a month? We’ll be left hanging and that isn’t good. We should do this quickly. We have never let merging go this slowly. This is the first time that we’ve had to wait for so long. We must execute it quickly.” He turned to Draco, his eyes sharp. “It’s your end of the deal,” he said quietly. “You said that if it didn’t work when I took my turn, you’ll be the one doing the persuading.”

Draco mentally grimaced, wishing for a Time-Turner just then so that he could stop himself from having said such a stupid thing. He didn’t want to be in the presence of Ginevra Weasley. There had been a reason they had yet to cross paths since the last time they had met, and he was set not to budge. “You said she wouldn’t budge. What gives you the idea that the power is with her? What if she really is in no position to sign? Then our contracts would be void nonetheless.”

Blaise stood still for a long while then he shook his head. “Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Her last name says it all. She has power. They wouldn’t let her manage the business while they are gone if she didn’t have an ounce of say in anything. I’m quite sure that once she signs, they’d go along.”

Draco thought for a long moment before he considered anything. There had been several cases before where the owners themselves had been swayed by loved ones and most especially blood relatives. He knew and slightly envied the tight bond of the Weasley family. He could bet that whatever decision Ginny made, they’d support her, even if she were out of the line, if only to make her learn a moral lesson.

Blaise knew that Draco was befuddled; whenever he didn’t know what to do, he would look away, a crinkle appearing near the lower part of his right eye. “It is entirely your choice if you would like to discontinue this pursuit.”

Draco didn’t want to consider that yet. This was big bucks, as unexpected as it might sound. It would make him richer, and the better his and Narcissa’s life was, the better. He didn’t want the ancestral business to go down the drain just because he had made a lapse in judgement. “I did say that I would try,” Draco said, more to himself than to the man who had situated himself back on the wooden chair, his ankle resting on his leg’s other knee. “Draco Malfoy doesn’t turn back on his word.”

“Unless it would be beneficial or used to manipulate,” Blaise drawled out lazily, earning a glare from Draco which he paid no heed to. Draco’s intense glares that were known to make most grown men almost wet their pants did nothing to him. He was somehow immune to it. Most of the time.

“Very well, I’ll talk to her. But if this doesn’t work, I refuse to make a fool out of ourselves any longer and just wait,” Draco announced firmly. Blaise nodded, accepting his decision. How could he not? Draco owned most of the company stock anyway.

“I’ll hold you to your word, Malfoy,” Blaise said, resorting to his family name as they both did when they were serious or in jest or when they just plain felt like it. “For now, I think I shall check on Zabini Enterprises.”

Blaise acted as the owner of a company that had merged with Malfoy Inc. years before. It was dully named as Zabini Enterprises. Zabini had little to do with anything, although he owned the company. He let the vice-president and his mother rule it. His mother wouldn’t let any of her husbands touch it; except, of course, the first one, who was Blaise’s father. They were still friends although they barely talked about anything unrelated to business. Blaise had no love lost for his father. He felt dispassionately for both his parents, which might perhaps have been the cause for his quiet personality. He’d rather work for Malfoy, acting as the manager of companies for Malfoy Inc. than play CEO to Zabini Enterprises any day.

“Very well then, off you go, Zabini and let me sleep. Draw down the curtains, if you please,” Draco said, covering himself and quickly falling asleep once again.

Blaise took his leave and disappeared for a few days. Draco wasn’t worried. The bloke was probably having a fun time with another fling here and there somewhere. He’d rather not know anyway. Last time he had asked, he had been given the disgusting information that he had been dating former pug-faced Pansy Parkinson, who went under the wand just months before Blaise and her dated. Going under the wand was equal to plastic surgery in the wizarding world. Of course, ‘mum’s the word’ did not exactly exist in the upper crust society. Almost everyone knew what everyone was mostly up to. They just preferred to ignore much of it.

OxOxOxOxO

It was already Friday, one of the busiest—if it is not the most—days of the week. Draco found himself standing side by side with Blaise Zabini that Friday morning outside a big shop of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, just as he had promised. He looked outwardly bored, as if this was such a waste of time, when inwardly, he was thinking of a way to get out of this as soon as possible. He didn’t want to be standing here, about to do something he might regret or that would make him look stupid, and most of all, he didn’t want to see Ginny.

No, he didn’t loathe her; quite the opposite, really. The way he was attracted to her just four years ago scared him. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, for he was too proud, of course, but he knew that if he were to be in close proximity with the fiery redhead, then he might not be able to control his actions. Blaise looked at him from the corner of his eyes and a smirk formed on his thin, smooth lips, obviously enjoying his friend’s discomfort. Although Draco showed none of his unease, Blaise could read it off him. His feet were far apart, as if he were ready to pounce, to bolt or to run. His back was stiff, chin held high, while his grey eyes were narrowed into slits as he looked at the door. It was a blatant confirmation of his unease for someone who knew him so well.

“Turning your back on me now, Malfoy?” He teased him in an arrogant tone which the elite like him used unconsciously.

“I’m standing here, am I not?” he snapped at the Blaise, whose smirk widened in turn. His silver-blonde hair was not gelled as it had been before in his youth. It was fashionably styled so that his hair line was on the side and he had bangs on the sides of his temples. It made him look more mature and more handsome. He was dressed impeccably in green robes of the finest material money could buy. It had cost a lot of money, but to him, it was barely a smudge in his funds.

“Do you need me to hold your hand?” Blaise asked him mockingly, earning a sharp glare from Draco, which shut him up effectively.

“I need not any hand to hold. This is just a deal. I’ll probably just need to lean back on a stupid wall while you do the bloody talking,” Draco replied, huffing.

Blaise looked at him boredly. “That’s all you seem to do anyway,” he drawled, not once having seen Draco really work except for that time he had been informed by Narcissa Malfoy that Draco had yet to come home, so he had to rush to the office in the middle of the night to tell the Malfoy heir that the Weasleys had refused to merge yet with Malfoy Inc.

“Hardly,” Draco said, huffing as he did so. It was now or never. He started walking towards the two glass doors, and with a snap of his fingers, the doors bolted open, letting the Melania streets hear the commotion inside the shop that was sealed by a very advanced Silencing Charm designed only to break when the door was opened. For a moment, everyone turned to look at them. The little boys looked at their passive faces and went back to what they were doing. Some made faces which Draco and Blaise probably ignored if they ever saw at all. Young mothers seemed to have their whole attention on the two for ten seconds before they were easily distracted by their children. The staff briefly shrugged their shoulders, whispered and got back to work. It would not do well to gawk at two men inside their shop anyway.

“Penny, the box of shrieking light bulbs have arrived!” a voice said, drawing Draco and Blaise’s attention, and they both saw Ginny emerging from a door in a corner where Draco could see a small office space from the open door.

Whoever she was calling to did not reply; so Ginny walked completely out of the office, frowning, and into the shop.

A frowning Ginny was acknowledged by the two men and was taken-aback at who she saw. For standing just beside Blaise Zabini was Draco Malfoy.

OxOxOxOxO

“Miss Weasley.” Blaise was the first to break the trance, forcing Ginny to look at him, but not before darting an uncertain glance towards Draco. He offered his hand and Ginny faintly took it, concentrating hard on him.

“Mister Zabini,” she frowned. “I thought we agreed that you would wait.”

“I made no such promises, Miss Weasley. I merely said that I would ask for the opinion of my associate.” He gestured to Draco Malfoy, who was staring coolly at the high shelves. He seemed to have grown taller for he was already 6’4”. She looked like a dwarf, being 5’5” to his staggering height. “And we have decided to seal the deal as quickly as we could.”

“A pleasure seeing you again, Miss Weasley,” Draco said smoothly, offering his hand.

Ginny took it, very surprised at seeing him again after four years. She was aware that she was staring, but it had been such a long time since they had last seen each other. And then, she was used to seeing his bare back with gashes and wounds on them because of the lashes he had got (which would never fade, so they could be considered as battle scars), with his hair not as tidy as it used to be. His hairstyle had changed and it was more favourable than his past one: it wasn’t still nor slimy-looking, which was a big improvement. He looked more assured of himself and had on expensive-looking clothes (not that he had ever worn anything less than exceptionally expensive clothes) which probably suited his standing.

“Miss Weasley, if you would kindly give my hand back to me,” he said, amused at how she was gaping up at him as if she had seen someone unbelievable. Although he quite enjoyed the attention, it also disoriented him. “Miss Weasley?” he asked again.

Pity that what would break this trance were words tumbling down her mouth, an unfitting response to his inquiry.

“I still have your black pants,” was what she blurted out.

Hearing this, Blaise raised a brow, an amusedly intrigued expression twinkling in his eyes. A smirk was forming in the side of his perfect mouth again. Draco seemed to pale, and nodded his head with as much dignity he could muster. ‘Keep it, it’s yours as a remembrance,’ almost tumbled out of his mouth, but fortunately, unlike Ginevra Weasley, he had more control on his tongue.

“I never noticed it was gone,” he decided to say, pulling his hand back and stuffing it inside his black suede pants.

Ginny was blushing so hard when realisation dawned upon her about what she had just said, and people who were mumbling to themselves as they looked for trinkets to purchase were looking at them peculiarly, and Ginny hoped fervently no one would tell any of the magazines or the Daily Prophet. “I’m so sorry… It was inappropriate—”

“No harm done, Miss Weasley,” Draco cut her off, not wanting to prolong it. He knew that she hadn’t meant to say it, since her face was competing with the colour of her hair.

“—that I would not even think of sending them back to you, but it totally slipped my mind and I just remembered it—” she kept on babbling, and slapped her hands onto her mouth when she noticed Blaise hiding his laughter with a cough and that Draco looked as if he was ready to Apparate away from her. “I’m so sorry,” she said as sincerely as she could.

“If we could just move on, Miss Weasley,” Draco said exasperatedly, looking around the store, glaring at those who dared look him in the eye.

“Right, uhm, this way please,” she mumbled, her head bowed low as she went inside her office. Her assistant who was holding the door for them looked at Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini as if she had just won the jackpot lottery. She continued to stare at them dreamily until Blaise, who had been silent through this whole ordeal, nodded his head at her as an indication that she might leave. She hurriedly went off her merry way and Ginny was quite depressed that she didn’t have anyone to be with her and keep her strong as she talked to these two men. Then again, her secretary wouldn’t be much help, judging at how she gawked at the two men, Blaise especially.

“So how can I help you?” she began, trying to make herself as comfortable as she could. There was no use crying over spilt potion, as the saying goes.

“I’m supposing you already know the answer to that, Miss Weasley,” Blaise Zabini said as courteously as he could. Ginny nodded unblushingly.

“I’m supposing you already know that answer to that too, Mister Zabini,” she retorted smoothly.

“The problem, Miss Weasley, is that we don’t know how soon your brothers are coming home. This offer cannot stand still for months to come. In fact, we make it a point to make deals as quickly as possible without being sloppy with our job. I hope you understand.”

“Mister Zabini, my brothers are coming home in three weeks, can’t you please wait?” Ginny didn’t really know how to act with people like these. She had never experienced doing business first-hand. When she first started, she would see Fred and George discussing properties and WWW matters with businesslike people and all that was appointed to her was the bringing in of the Butterbeer,

“We can’t, Miss Weasley. I have full confidence though, that you would know what would be best for your company.” The way he said it, it was evident that he meant their company. “Malfoy Inc. would personally see to it that everything goes smoothly. All you have to do is sign some contracts and we’ve merged.”

Malfoy Inc. It seemed that Ginny had stopped hearing whatever Blaise Zabini was saying and her mind had stopped at Malfoy Inc. It was a bad habit of hers to stop and take notice of something in particular that someone had said and just zone out—a bad habit Draco himself had once called her attention on.

She looked at the person who owned said corporation. Draco had a bored expression clearly written on his handsome face as he cradled his lower jaw with his palm, his long fingers curled so attractively that he looked like a wonderful anguished portrait. He looked like he was watching Muggle television, like the one Harry owned and had set up at his inherited house, Grimmauld Place. And from his expression, he might have been watching the National Geographic Channel featuring large African ants and how they were attacked by shielded caterpillars. How fascinating.

“Miss Weasley?” Even though someone had already called her attention, she still seemed drawn to look at Draco’s passive face. Only when he flicked his eyes to look at her did she turn away, successfully looking professional and not blushing at all. Thank you, Fred and George, for mentoring me, flashed into her head suddenly.

“I would not want to make decisions which are not mine to make, Mister Zabini. My brothers have entrusted me with the place, it wouldn’t be right to break my promise as their employee and sibling,” she said, thinking quickly of what she should say.

“And you’d make them proud. You’ll be helping them out with this deal,” Zabini said, his green eyes looking at her so intently that it was hard not to imagine it a dream that a boy so beautiful would be looking at her. His face was much improved since Hogwarts when it had been narrow.

Ginny bit her lip, her resolve slightly leaning to the side. If she turned them away, there was a possibility that she’d be making a big mistake. Malfoy Inc. was a successful business; it had been for hundreds of years. Why not put her trust in something stable? Merging would help pay some bills, right? Still, it wouldn’t be right to her brothers. She was sure that they’d understand if she had to turn this away… But then, she could always contact them via Floo or her head appearing in a Romanian fireplace.

So she had come to deciding, “I shall give you my answer, Misters Malfoy and Zabini, when I have talked to them. I’ll be in touch as quickly as I can possibly be.” There. That was safe. If her siblings approved, then she’d sign the papers temporarily until they got back from Romania. Although they deserved the rest, she couldn’t help wishing they’d just Apparate quickly back here.

Blaise nodded, accepting her answer. “Very well, Miss Weasley. Thank you for giving us your time.” He stood up abruptly and so did Draco, looking as though he wanted to yawn and stretch his arms.

Ginny heard Blaise Zabini open the door as she bent her head to arrange the papers on her desk. She could see a pair of legs not far away from her, but her hair obscured her view of the person’s face. But she was pretty sure it was Draco.

“You go on ahead, Blaise, it is time for lunch anyway,” he declared without a single glance at his watch. Blaise nodded his head and left, but not before raising a brow. He walked nearer to the Ginny who, fumbling with her watch, was also surprised that the meeting had just gone by just like that.

She looked up at Draco and smiled nervously. “Hi, Draco.”

OxOxOxOxO

“We meet again, Ginny,” he said, his lips turning up into a small smile. She looked even more beautiful now that she had matured into a real woman. There was something about her that would just make you look at her. He noticed she had fewer freckles splattered across her nose and cheeks now. Perhaps it is makeup, he thought reasonably, or a cream that actually works.

“I didn’t think it would take us four years to meet again,” she said, sounding to his ears as if she didn’t believe that four years had passed without them seeing each other even once.

“We were busy,” Draco explained for the both of them. There really was no excuse, maybe because it was better that way. The four years that had transpired had been times of great stress for Draco. He had become so busy starting from his first month of work and in a span of months after, he had been so caught up in work he had barely made an appearance anywhere. But after a year or so of getting used to it, he had made time for girlfriends and some parties he could never really stay away from.

She shrugged. “You’re right, I suppose. I can understand your part. Managing a big business is surely hard work,” she teased. “I’m glad, though, you haven’t severed your bonds with Harry.”

He shrugged his shoulders. He hadn’t seen the man for months now. “How is Potter these days? I haven’t seen even a trace of his shadow for months.”

A shadow seemed to loom in her eyes and she looked away towards a nonexistent place. “He’s fine,” she said vaguely and he didn’t press on. Perhaps he had been sent on one of his ridiculous missions again (saving creature-wizard bonds were a bore to him, it seemed and so was saving lives not connected to his own) that would take a lot of time to finish.

As they talked some more, she moved through the small space she called her office. She checked on long lists plastered on random places on the walls, pausing only to laugh at something Draco had said or add something of her own. It was when she had raised her hands to put up another one of said lists that Draco noticed that she wasn’t wearing a ring on either hand.

This meant she was neither engaged nor married. It surprised Draco, really. Harry could have got Ginny by now. They had been together for so long they probably ended each other’s sentences and those sort of cheesy things he’d heard real people in love do. Or probably it was just in the wizarding plays he still kept on watching with his bonding-time with his mum.

“So how come you’re not yet married to Potter?” he asked frankly, seeing nothing wrong with it. Ginny paused, taken-aback by his question and not really at all too sure how to react or to answer.

“Well, we’re not yet ready, I suppose,” she settled on replying, shrugging her shoulders as she did so. “His job demands a lot from him and there are times I don’t see him for months. There’s also WWW I have to take care of. And before you say it, I haven’t found my job calling yet so I’m having a real big trouble finding out what is right for me to do.” She offered him a smile, which he did not return, his eyes giving her a look prompting her to continue and she sighed. “I don’t want to get married without the security that I can contribute to the expenses.”

“You don’t have to contribute at all; it is Potter’s job to feed the family,” he said smoothly, flicking an imaginary fleck of dirt off his shoulder.

“How very sexist of you,” Ginny said wryly, continuing with her list. “I want to contribute something and I want a job that I can love with all my heart. Like Harry and Ron like being Aurors and Hermione loves being a doctor.”

“Wait, Granger’s a Healer?” Draco asked, an eyebrow arched in a questioning manner.

Ginny nodded, smiling. “You thought it would be me ending up as a Healer? Well, she became the Healer—she calls herself a doctor since she’s a Muggle-born—I’m sure you opened your mouth not to make a nasty comment but to ask me more.”

“And Weasley’s—the most stupid one of all, Ron—an Auror too?” Whatever he wanted to add that was meaner, but he kept it to himself as not to rile up Ginny more. He looked at his silver chain watch and was surprised to see it was almost 12:30. No worries. He could take lunches as long as he wanted. “Say, why don’t we eat somewhere? My treat.”

Ginny frowned, not really in his direction but in thought. “WWW is open even at lunch time and most staff have lunch breaks at separate times to accommodate the people buying their merchandise,” she informed him. He didn’t speak. She was still deliberating. “But then, I’m really hungry and knowing you, you’ll certainly pick a posh place with exceptionally great food. There would be no harm in taking a break, then!” She wasn’t giving a straight answer and it seemed to him that she was talking more to herself than to him, as if she was drifting into ‘Ginny-land’ once again like she used to before and he couldn’t quite get the hang of it – which irked him.

“Are you coming?” Draco prodded, suddenly uncomfortable at the thought that she would decline. She fiddled with her long hair, now almost reaching her hips, as she thought. He couldn’t take his eyes off her lips, which she continually worried by biting on repeatedly.

OxOxOxOxO

“All right then, Draco,” she said, her smile turning into a frown of concern as she looked at the cold faraway look Draco had, staring somewhere near her, making no eye contact at all. “Draco?”

He suddenly looked up at her as if nothing was the matter and nodded, opening the door for her and leading her out of the establishment. How odd, she thought. She knew that she had no right to judge him. After all, she barely knew him and the time they had spent apart brought her farther from him than before. How could she think it was odd of him to space off just like that?

But deep in her heart, she felt as though she knew him more than anybody could. And it worried and frightened her. What if she worried more for him? What if she really did get time to spend with him? What if they knew each other more than she and Harry knew each other?

Worst, what if she fell in love with him?

Notes:

*The Painting Draco was thinking of is Vincent Van Gogh’s Starry, Starry Night.

*Melania is the dubbed name of St. Augustine’s lover who his mother urged to leave him. He loved her so much and her him.