“Mum, will you stop fussing?” James asked exasperatedly as she adjusted the table setting slightly for the thirtieth time. She had rushed around since lunchtime to get everything ready. She’d hoovered, dusted and scrubbed the floor within an inch of its life, made dinner preparations and lit candles before rushing into the shower and then spent half a lifetime picking out what to wear.

 The deep blue dress had seemed a good choice at the time, not too fancy but with enough fuss to not seem to be something you lounged about the house in. She didn’t think it had ever been out of the closet. It had been an impulse buy from the last time she’d gone shopping with Hermione who had pushed it on her and told her it was gorgeous with her hair. She’d tried to tame it a bit for the evening, brushed it back and pinned it, but stubborn tendrils refusing to stay in place fell around her face. She rarely bothered with make-up but had dusted her pale skin with some blush and put on some mascara.

 Then she’d rushed to set the table and finish dinner preparations. Now she was just nervously padding around, fussing with things, picking them up and putting them down in the wrong place. She was behaving as if this was a date and she knew it was ridiculous. She and Draco were…tentative friends. At best. She’d met him twice since Hogwarts now and though she could vouch for that he’d changed a lot she was still surprised by how immediate, how violent the attraction had been. Had it always been there?

 Thinking back to her school days she had to admit she’d been more than a little attracted to the boy he had been. Mostly because of his looks, which she was reminded by his son had been impressive even then. Almost like a butterfly he’d shed the short, pointy faced and skinny cocoon to emerge tall, lithe and with a face that struck somewhere between archangel and a rogue prince. There was something definitely timeless to the elegance of the bone structure, the high cheekbones and deep hollows of his cheeks, the strong shape of the hood of his eye and the sharp line of jaw. Recalling it, she was sure it would have made an eighteenth century lady’s heart flutter as surely as it did any schoolgirl’s. She could remember being vaguely annoyed by it, bothered that someone as petty could possess a face more suited to the front of a novel or an old painting. Bothered that he made her heart stutter, purely from hormones, of course. Infuriated he had perfect lips, saved from femininity by their set, and wasted in a face that used them only to sneer. Even if it had been a hell of a sexy sneer. Annoyed that he had eyes that were an impossibly dark shade of grey for his complexion and because they seemed to have hidden depths behind them. The depths any woman would be tempted to do anything to fathom, to be allowed the privilege of knowing the pain they were all sure would be there. There was nothing as effective on the female hormones as a perceived wound hidden by a bad boy attitude. But she had managed to ignore all of it because he had been a little git to her friends. That defence had gone up in flames as she’d seen the care and love he held for his son, for the home he had created for him, for the easy relationship that could only come from him being a great dad. Ginny knew her attraction was climbing unknown heights at record speed yet she couldn’t make herself slow down. Not only because of James, or because she had just gotten divorced but because she had no idea if he felt even remotely the same way. So hold your horses, Weasley and just enjoy having a friend over for dinner.

 In any case, both their sons would be there, it could hardly classify as a date. Not that she wanted it to be. It was just dinner, she repeated to herself.

“I’m not fussing.” She heard him roll his eyes at her behind her back. “And you remember what I told you? Be nice. Mr. Malfoy may have been a prat at school but he was not a Death Eater, not for real, even you dad says so, and his son deserves to be treated better, no matter what his dad may or may not have done.”

“Yes, mum, you’ve told me a hundred times. I’ve never spoken to the guy.” No, Ginny thought sadly, the problem was that neither had anybody else.

“And no escaping up to your room on your own. It’s supposed to be a nice dinner where we all sit and-“

“Ye-es, mum. Why is this so important, anyway?”

“Well, I had a lovely time when they had me over and I just want everything to be as nice for them here.” James gave her a sharp look but nodded.

“Fine.” He left her to her fussing and trudged upstairs. She’d only managed to bring him down to lecture him on his behavior because he had wanted a soft drink from the fridge but he had come down and he had stayed for almost all she had to say. Baby steps, she reminded herself, was the way forward.

 Not five minutes later, the bell rang and Ginny rushed out to the mirror in the hall. Hair was in place…-ish, dress still stain-free and her make-up hadn’t smudged. Then she realized she’d forgotten to put on shoes. She’d decided to pick them after the last dinner preparations was done as she could only choose between high heels, which felt ridiculous wearing around the house, or her everyday shoes, which looked funny with a dress. And now both pairs were upstairs and she was barefoot. The bell rang again and with a frustrated sigh Ginny went to the door.

“James, they’re here,” she called and opened.

“Hi, welcome.” She stepped back to let them in and felt her mouth go dry as Draco stepped in wearing a light grey sweater of what could only be cashmere, and jeans. The man was criminally gorgeous. He should be made to get a permit or something. His eyes widened slightly when he saw her and she hoped it wasn’t because she looked ridiculous in a dress, with bare feet, staring at him like he was a priceless piece of art.

“Er, here.” Score interrupted the silence and handed her a beautiful bouquet of flowers. “Thanks for having us.”

“It’s my pleasure. These are wonderful.” She heard heavy steps come downstairs and turned to James. He stood at the bottom of the steps, looking sullen, with both his hands stuffed in his pockets. He couldn’t look more different from Score if he tried. He was wearing worn jeans ripped at the knee, a black t-shirt with a band name on it and his hair was a mess. Scorpius stood in pristine jeans and a white Oxford shirt, his hair tidily brushed. He was just looking at James, his eyes cool. The moment was stretching and Ginny tried to think of something, anything to say as the tension built. She wished her son would at least introduce himself to the other boy, or at the very least acknowledge their presence.

“You must be James. I’m Draco.” Draco held out his hand, nothing in his voice betraying he was greeting a thirteen year old boy and not an adult. Slightly shocked, James shook his hand before he could regain his sullenness and stuff his hands in his pockets again, Draco continued.

“I hear you’re playing Wicked.” Draco leaned on the banister, all graceful ease as he nodded towards the room upstairs where music was pounding. “They’re good, but they’re nothing compared to when they had their original base player. I saw them in the Leaky Cauldron before they made it big.” James’ eyes widened and the smile escaped him before he could help it. She could have kissed Draco.

“Yeah?”

“Sure, that’s when they were still called Patronus. What else have you got up there?” James started rattling names as he led Draco and Score upstairs and she almost wept with gratitude. Not only did Draco deem what her son listened to music, but he knew something about it as well. He returned ten minutes later, reporting the two boys had found a mutual taste for wizarding rock and video games about stealing cars.

“Thank you. I don’t know how I would have handled that situation without you.”

“No problem. He’s a nice kid, you just have to get past his defences. You remember how it was back then, all adults were against you, didn’t understand you, had never been in your position?” She smiled,

“I don’t know, I think I might be getting too old to remember. I just feel like…I’ve become “mum”, you know, and I’m nobody outside that role to him. I’m not even sure I remember who I am outside of it. It was nice of you to show him not all of us adults are boring.”

“Ah, most of us are. I mean, I might’ve taken Score to a few concerts but I always wished I was at home, with my slippers on, watching a BBC criminal drama.” She laughed but knew he probably fitted in as well at a rock concert as he did in the living room of his beautiful house.

“Would you like a beer? Or wine? I’m making shepherd’s pie for dinner.”

“My favorite. I’ll take a beer, please.” Pleased that she’d thought of buying beer she took one out of the fridge. Then paused.

“I think I’ll have one as well. I haven’t had beer in years.” And why not? She liked it. To her it had just been associated with Harry. He drank beer and she drank wine. It was silly, really, as if she couldn’t have one if she liked. She made a note to remember to get it again as she got the bottle opener.

“To firsts in a long time, then.” Her eyes locked with his and suddenly his words seemed to take on a new meaning. He really did have the most amazing eyes. So dark, so magnetic, pulling her deeper every time she looked. He put his beer down and took a step towards her. She caught his scent, something dark and masculine and felt heady. His sweater looked so soft, she wanted to run her hands over if, feel the soft fabric over hard muscle and…

 The two teenagers noisily returned to the kitchen, James loudly exclaiming he was starving to death and would perish if they didn’t eat soon.  Draco easily picked up his beer and had a long pull at it. She tried to order her features into some semblance of normality as she went to the oven. Merlin, she was more attracted to him than she’d thought. Maybe this dinner had been ill advised.

 The rest of it passed in a boisterous manner, James seemingly back to the easy-going boy he had been before the divorce for the evening. He laughed himself silly over Draco’s and Score’s easy teasing and had something admiring in his eyes as he talked to Draco. She admitted she might wear a similar look herself as the gorgeous man made her son laugh himself senseless. Again she was reminded of the Burrow, the chatter of young mingling with the deep, calm, voice of order. In fact, having grown up with six brothers she had little trouble keeping up in the male-dominated room and she even thought she gained some points with her son.

 Then Draco and Score had left, along with an invitation to join them for movie night next Tuesday, which James couldn’t wait to go to since he’d heard of the enormous TV.

o.O.o

Knocking on her son’s door she heard a muffled “come in” and entered. Trying to stifle the instant “mum” response that came with stale air and excessive amounts of laundry she turned her eyes on him instead, as always feeling a little prick of recognition at how similar he looked to his father. The jet black hair that would forever stick out impossibly, like he just got out of bed and had a hedgehog for a pillow. Reflexively she walked in and smoothed it down.

“Mum!” He batted her hand away as he focused intently on something on the screen of his computer. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, the same way she’d seen Harry’s a thousand times as he focused on a difficult spell, the spiky black lashes painting shadows on his high cheekbones. She knew the colour of them was the same golden brown as her own but everything else about them was Harry’s. It was his mouth that was clamped tightly as he paid rapt attention to some little numbers that were rolling on the screen. His narrow face, his sinewy wrists and still narrow shoulders. It made it even harder that he wouldn’t pay enough attention to his son when he was a copy of himself. It should’ve reminded Harry of what he never had. Made him try to be there for his son as his father had never been able to be there for him. Instead he was the father of a nation, not his son.

 Trying again she laid a hand gently on his shoulder. She felt him tense for a moment, readying to shake her off, but with a small sigh he accepted and just let her hand rest there. It was a small victory but Ginny treasured it.

“How was talking to Score tonight?”

“Mum, I’m busy.”

“Can’t you pause it?” With a longsuffering sigh, James responded.

“You can’t pause games online. They’re other people in it.”

“Oh. Well, how was it?”

“It was fine, he showed me some cool games and then we had dinner. I think you were there.” She decided to ignore the snide tone. At least he was talking to her.

“Games? On the computer? Did he bring them?”

“No, mum, online. We might play one next week. I just have to…” Ginny didn’t really understand the rest but caught something about levels and catching up before two people could play. What she did understand was that the two boys had plans. Okay, tentative plans, but it was something. Happy, Ginny squeezed his shoulder and backed away.

“He’s really nice, you know, Score, I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah, can I play now?”

“Yes. I’ll just go to bed. And…thank you, for making an effort tonight.” She’d gotten almost out into the hall when she heard him reply,

“It was all right.” It took someone special, she thought, to make her son deem them all right. Draco Malfoy was special.

 Making her way into her bedroom she sat down in front of her vanity, slowly pulling the pins from her hair. It was a long time since she had been interested in anyone. A long time since she had dated. Not since Hogwarts. And here she was, 32 years old, divorced, raising a teenage son, contemplating it. It hadn’t come up before since she hadn’t really thought of it much. Nothing put a damper on romance like divorce papers. It had been a vague possibility that sometime down the road, when James was older, there would be time for her again.

 But after tonight she was sure of one thing. She wanted Draco Malfoy with an intensity that scared her slightly.

 She’d always found sex a nice pastime, proof of intimacy and if done right, very relaxing. But there was nothing relaxing about this. Her body seemed wound tight and when he looked at her she thought the air got that loaded quality it had just before lightning struck. She wondered if that was what it would be like, to be with him. Like lightning striking.

 Ginny wasn’t really sure what to do about it. It was all new, all strange, so she decided to try and take it slow. He might not even feel the same way. There had been that moment in the kitchen but that could have easily been just her imagining things. He’d recovered awfully quickly if things had been as she thought. As she wanted to think they were, she could admit to herself. And why not, Draco Malfoy was an attractive, single man, a devoted father and both intelligent and funny. It wasn’t against the law for two single people to try for something new. It would just have to be given time. She felt she was on shaky legs in the dating department and had never been seeing anyone she hadn’t been friends with first. This was different. At school they had been as far from friends as two people could be and now they were practically strangers. As she pulled on her nightgown she wondered how different that would make things from what she knew and whether it would be a good kind of different or a bad kind of different.

o.O.o

“How were…Did you…I mean, when you and James were upstairs, did everything go alright?” Draco had managed to keep from asking the question almost until they were home. Mainly because he’d focused on how amazing Ginny had looked in her blue dress with her feet bare and vibrant hair tumbling around her face. But as they reached the front door he couldn’t help it anymore. Score shrugged and entered when he held the door open.

“It was fine.”

“Fine?” He knew he sounded like a woman probing a man for his opinion on her shoes but couldn’t help but prompt him. His son sent him a bemused look over his shoulder.

“Fine. Potter is okay when he’s not trying to be funny or pretend he’s the frigging master of the universe. I showed him some of the games I play online and he’s going to try them out. We might play together, unless he sucks at it.” Draco’s heart swelled in relief. Maybe they weren’t friends but the son of the man he disliked most in the world had at least talked to Score. That was more than could be said for the children of his former “allies”.

“Okay. Good. Great.”

“I guess. I’m going to go to bed. Night.”

“Goodnight.” Score trudged up the stairs and restlessly Draco went into the kitchen. He knew that if his son said it had been fine, then it had been fine but he couldn’t help worrying all the same. Would Potter Junior realize Score was more than just the son of his father’s school nemesis, or would he just add more hurt when summer was forgotten and house rivalries made themselves known again? Annoyed that he couldn’t let the matter just play out on its own he opened the fridge and grabbed a beer.

“Got another one of those?” Recognizing the voice Draco smiled and picked up another bottle. Turning and tossing it towards the man in the doorway, who plucked it easily out of the air and leaned his tall form against the doorframe, Draco greeted him.

“Zabini.”

“Dray.” The former Slytherin was the only person from school Draco was still in contact with though they had never been close when they went to Hogwarts. The friendship had grown more out of a mutual dislike for certain traits of shared among most members of their former house. Neither of them would ever wish to be in another house but found many of their peers to be boring, mindless followers with little imagination. So when they had bumped into each other after graduation a tentative friendship had been started that to equal surprise to both of them had turned them into best friends.

“What brings you here?” Zabini raised one suit clad shoulder in a shrug He wouldn’t use both unless he had to. He was the laziest man ever created and only vanity ensured he didn’t weigh three hundred pounds from sheer lack of moving. The man didn’t stand if he could sit, didn’t sit of he could lie down and so on. And thus, true to his nature he sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen island as Draco leaned against the counter.

“We’re out of beer at home.”

“And you couldn’t go to the store on the way home?” Surprisingly enough he put effort into his work and often stayed late at the office. Considering his suit, Draco guessed that’s where he had come from.

“I can’t Apparate to the store. I can Apparate here and Apparate home.” Pointing out Blaise had about a two-minute walk to the store was of little use so Draco didn’t. Instead he asked about his friends’ wife who was heavily pregnant with their third child.

“How’s Luna?” A huge smile broke out on his friend’s face.

“Great. She’s convinced it’s a boy this time. The girls are thrilled, I think they imagine we’re getting some sort of really fancy doll.” Blaise and Luna’s twin daughters were three years old and an adorable force of destruction. Seeing Blaise’s eyes light up as he talked about his family Draco was amazed at the turns fate took.

 At school, Blaise had been quiet and kept to himself a lot. Girls had interpreted it as being brooding and mysterious and that, added to his great looks had had them falling over themselves to get to him. Draco hardly thought he’d minded but in 7th year he had suddenly stopped seeing them all as he began dating Luna Lovegood. Or at least, so he’d heard afterwards since he hadn’t actually been there himself. According to Blaise he’d just bumped into her one night and she’d been the least predictable person he’d ever met. After that he’d started noticing her around Hogwarts and after a few weeks had managed to accept the fact he had a crush on the “school weirdo”. So he’d asked her out and for the first time in his life he had been rejected.

“I don’t even know you,” she’d replied. “I’m not even sure you know yourself.” In the end, to Draco’s everlasting amusement, Blaise had been allowed to come on a search for the elusive Snotnosed Swamplurker. They were nasty creatures that lived in bogs and only came out when the weather was foul. Draco would have paid a lot of money to see the seventeen year old, snobbish, pedantically neat Blaise Zabini traipse around a bog, muddy water to his knees and his expensive shoes ruined.

 In any case, after it Luna had deemed him worthy of being her friend and later, her boyfriend. In her Blaise had found someone who didn’t care about his name, his status or his money, in fact, Draco knew, she didn’t even care about her husband’s looks. He knew Blaise found that a relief, as most people always assumed things about him when they met him. Curling black hair and a flawless coffee-and-cream complexion, paired with tawny eyes and lithe build made his friend look something of a mix between Caribbean pirate and Renaissance poet and women were forever making him up to be things in their heads he could never be and were then disappointed. But not the woman he had married, one of the rare people in the world who only cared about the inside of a person.

 They lived close by in a house on the Muggle side. Blaise worked as a lawyer while Luna worked as a journalist at her father’s paper, the Quibbler. With twin girls and a baby on the way, their happiness seemed complete.

“Glad to hear it.” He had a pull of his beer and suddenly Blaise’s eyes suddenly narrowed in speculation.

“Where have you been?”

“Out.”

“Where?”

“What are you, my mum? Are you going to ask me who I talked to as well?” Draco crossed his arms over his chest and Blaise adopted a prim tone as he replied,

“I most certainly will, young man.” He dropped the act and arched a brow, “Especially since you’re wearing your date sweater.”

“What?”

“Your date sweater. You only wear it when you want to impress a woman, which is why I’ve seen it about...twice, in as many years.”

“Do you have some sort of anal notebook where you write down what I eat and wear and use night vision binoculars to spy on me when I shower?”

“Yes, of course. If I were you I would regrout your tiles. Once it’s too late, damage will be irreparable. I should know, I just sued someone for neglecting to point that out the other day.”

“Did you win?”

“Of course I did, don’t try and change the subject. Who is she? Is she hot? Do I know her?” Blaise leaned forward on the stool, angling his head as he smirked at Draco.

“Forget it.”

“I am hurt, wounded to my very core by your callousness. Didn’t I tell you just the other day about how hot Luna is pregnant?”

“Yes. And I wish you hadn’t.”

“You’re just jealous that I have a blonde goddess of love at home.”

“I think I prefer red-heads.” Draco said absentmindedly as he fiddled with the corner of the label on his beer.

“Aha! She has red hair, then. Well, that’s not too surprising, you’ve had a thing for red hair since that weird crush you had on the littlest Weasley in school.”

“Will you just go bother someone else?”

“No, this is way too much fun. You’re actually squirming. I never get to see you squirm. It’s fascinating. I may have to call home and say I won’t be home tonight. I have to torture you until the facts are in the open. It’s my duty as your best friend.”

“It’s your duty as my best friend to go home and shu-“ Score, clad in pajamas and holding an empty glass entered and Blaise’s eyes lit up.

“Score! Just the man I wanted to see, the man with the answers! Who is your dad seeing?” His son’s eyes darted to him before widening in absolute innocence.

“No one that I know of.”

“Do you think I’d buy that look? Your dad was giving me that look long before you were ever born. Like that time he promised my Finn Dougal rookie card had been stolen by a Snotnosed Swamplurker.”

“Your wife believed me.”

“Bite me. So Score, where were you tonight? You can tell your favorite uncle.”

“We had to go to dinner to convince our Magic-Muggle liaison we’re normal.”

“You have to do that now as well?” Blaise looked appalled. “Our liaison is a fat, balding man who sweats profusely and thinks deodorant is for sissies.” The clinically neat Blaise shuddered.

“Sorry, man.” Sending Score a grateful look Draco took another sip of his beer. Blaise was his best friend but he didn’t know if he wanted to tell him about Ginny yet. Because there’s nothing to tell, he told himself.

“I have to go home and tell Luna the sad news. Last time he came to the house we had to air it for an hour. If he stays for dinner we’ll have to fumigate.” Score snorted in laughter and Blaise gave him a dark look. “Think it’s funny do you? Maybe I’ll invite you to the dinner, see how you like it.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to be out of town. See you, uncle Blaise.” Score retreated upstairs and Blaise turned accusingly towards him.

“He’s becoming more like you every day.”

“I have nothing to do with it, I swear.”

“You both think you’re so damned funny.” A smile broke out over his features. “Damn Malfoys. Well, I’m off. Thank you for the beer.” He steered towards the living room and the floo before turning in the doorway. “Oh, and Dray, don’t think for a minute I’ve forgotten you wore your date sweater to your Magic-Muggle liaison dinner. But if you don’t want to tell me, I’ll wait. Bye, loser.” Draco smiled into his now empty kitchen. There was no fooling Blaise. Even when you thought you had the man was two steps ahead.

 Putting his now empty beer bottle in the sink he headed up the stairs to got to bed. Hopefully, if he dreamed about Ginny again tonight, it’d be under better circumstances than last time.