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

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

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

Speak of the devil.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two birds with one stone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Author notes: Betas = saviours. My eternal thank yous go to Crazy-Lemon-Lady and la_rubinita for their help with this fic.