Another late night at the office.

She sighed heavily before taking a large swig of her cold coffee, hoping that by some chance, this little sip of caffiene might just do something for her that the first six cups she'd had throughout the day had been unable to do. She made a face as the tasteless, acidic liquid slid down her throat, but Ginny Weasley was far too exhausted to get up and make herself another cup. A glance over at the clock disheartened her. It was well past office hours – in fact, it was past her bedtime. There was just short of eight hours left before she had to be back to work again.

And then she looked longingly at her typewriter, at the painfully empty page she had been slaving over since eight o'clock that morning.

Three sentences. Ninety-six words.

In sixteen hours, that was all she had been able to write. Her boss would surely tear her a new one if she turned in an article that was so far from being complete. It wasn't even worthy of going to her editor.

But in all reality, Ginny knew that she wouldn't get much more work done on her article. Time was running thin, and no inspiration was coming to her. In fact, the only thing coming to her was drowsiness. The six cups of coffee did not help, and neither did her fear of repercussion.

Maybe if she just rested her eyes for a minute...

"WEASLEY!"

She bolted upright in her chair, taking in her surroundings as best she could. She knew that voice anywhere – her boss. And it was all making sense. She was still at work. She didn't even remember leaving...

"Weasley, I'm not going to say your bloody name again! Wake the damn hell up!"

Suppressing a yawn as best she could, Ginny nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm up."

"Good," he said, although he still didn't sound particularly thrilled. "Where's the article I assigned yesterday? I need to send it to Bones for editing."

Damn. That's what she had forgotten.

"Er... sir, about the article..."

"No excuses!" he said, his voice heavy with irritation. "If it's not finished, at least let me see what you've got so far."

With a moan, Ginny handed her draft to her boss, awaiting and dreading the awful yelling that she was fairly certain was about to come. But it didn't, and in a lot of ways, that was worse. He said nothing – he just walked away.

A few hours later – box of personal items in hand – Ginny walked up the stairs of her second floor studio flat. She was in desperate need of a nap, a shower, dinner, and a fresh change of clothes. And a shot of vodka.

There was a tapping at the window as soon as she walked through the front door. A beautiful tawny owl was waiting patiently as she set down her box on the kitchen table and opened the window. She absentmindly handed the bird a treat as she opened the letter.

G,

Meet me at our place at 5. We need to talk.

C

She sighed. It was only ten, which gave her plenty of time to relax before this impromptu meeting. One of the perks of being fired from a job, Ginny decided, was that at least she got to take some time to recuperate.

Despite her better judgment, she walked into the kitchen and began to brew another pot of coffee. Ginny knew herself well enough to know that if she fell asleep now, there was no way in hell she'd wake up before the next morning.

Somewhat refreshed, Ginny entered the bar. It was their place – hers and Christopher's. They had been dating for a few months, and though their style of dating was somewhat casual, both of them had agreed in the beginning to stay monogomous. This was usually a given in any romantic relationship for her. She couldn't keep track of more than one man at any given time. She could barely keep track of herself.

She sat down at their booth. Christopher was not sitting there, but his coat was, which probably meant that he had gone off to the loo. Ginny waited patiently, twiddling her thumbs. It was five minutes past when he had told her to meet, and she was becoming impatient. If he wanted to disturb her day with surprise dates, he should at least have the decency to show up to them in a timely manner.

"Ginny," he said, appearing from thin air before he took the seat across from her. "You look nice."

"Thanks," she answered with a yawn. She knew damn well that she didn't look nice. She'd thrown on the first pair of denims she could find – clean or dirty – and had put on her rattiest, oldest Holyhead Harpies t-shirt. She had, however, bothered to at least run a comb through the rat's nest she'd had on her head the last few days, so she supposed she could at least accept credit for that. "So, what did you want to talk about then?"

"Well..." Christopher began, looking and sounding decidedly uncomfortable. "Ginny, you're great. You're beautiful and you're smart and you can be lots of fun..."

She snorted. "Thanks."

"But, listen. I feel like, lately, you and I haven't been... connecting."

"Oh yeah?" she replied absently, swirling a straw in her glass of water.

"I think we should break up."

It took her a moment before she actually heard him, but once what he said finally registered, Ginny nodded. "Yeah. I think it might be for the best."

"Really?" he asked, sounding a little disheartened. "You don't think what we have is worth fighting for?"

Ginny shrugged. "To be completely honest, I don't really have the energy to fight for or about anything. We always said our relationship was meant to be casual, so if you aren't feeling anything anymore, then that's just the way it goes, isn't it?"

"No, Ginny, I don't think you understand."

"I understand perfectly. I'm just not a sappy, attached little girl who gets all brokenhearted over a man who's uninterested..."

"I think I'm in love with you."

That was, of course, something that she had not expected to hear.

He reached across the table and touched her hand. "Ginny, I know we haven't been seeing each other long, but the way I feel for you... it's... it's... it's unparalleled. And I could feel you slipping away, so I thought if I threatened to break up with you, you'd realize what you were losing and you'd change for me..."

Ginny was quiet for a moment. She looked at the curly-headed man who was pleading with her to take him back after he had only just broken up with her a moment earlier. Christopher had been a decent enough boyfriend – he was good looking, wealthy, good in bed – but she really didn't know too much about him. They'd always skipped right over the talking part and jumped right into the sex, and that was fine for their casual relationship. But now he was proclaiming his love for her? He didn't even know her!

"Christopher, I think we should both just walk away from tonight with our heads high." She tapped his hand condescendingly. "Please don't send me anymore owls."

Ginny Apparated to Diagon Alley. She knew well enough that she should have just gone home, but she was exhausted and not thinking straight. More than anything, she wanted a drink.

A swanky new pub had just opened up in the Alley, and Ginny had tried to get Christopher to take her there for nearly the entire time that they were together, but he had flatly refused. She had been, frankly, so tired of going to their bar and sitting with him in their booth, but he had insisted that having a regular place with a regular table was something special, and she just didn't have the energy to argue with him. But now she was a free woman, and she could drink anywhere she damn well pleased.

The pub was small and quaint with a calm atmosphere that she really did appreciate in her current state. She didn't quite feel like going to a loud dance club, but at the same time, she didn't particularly want to go to an empty bar so that she could feel like an alcoholic for drinking alone. This place was perfect; it was cozy and relatively quiet, but it still had a certain buzz of activity that made her feel like she was in friendly company.

She took a seat at the counter, carefully choosing one with an empty seat on each side. She set her handbag down on on of those seats, thus ensuring that she wouldn't be completely surrounded by strangers. Even if someone sat to her left, if she didn't want to be bothered, she would have an empty right side to comfort her. Regardless of whether or not that would deter unwanted company, it was something that Ginny needed to feel content when drinking alone.

The bartender was busy with other patrons, and Ginny observed him quietly. He was thin and blond, but because of the low lighting, she could not get a good look at his face. His clear skin and taut body gave her the impression that he was somewhere in the vicinity of her age, but without looking at his face, she couldn't really be sure. He was chatting somewhat animatedly with an older man seated on the opposite side of the bar.

Just then, the bartender turned in her direction, and Ginny caught her first look at his face. With a sharp intake of breath, she realized that the man who was serving drinks was the last person she had ever expected to see.

"Malfoy?"

He looked upand caught her eye, narrowing them almost imperceptibly at the sight of her. But he cleared his throat and stood directly in front of her. "Little Weasley," he said by way of greeting. "What is it that you'd like?"

Thoughts of a chilled glass of white wine went by the wayside for the moment. "What the hell are you doing slinging drinks?" she asked. "Aren't you too good for this type of work?"

The corner of his lips upturned slightly. "Well, yes and no. Drink?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Vodka on the rocks, two olives. And an explanation please."

He reached below the counter for a glass and began preparing her drink. "If you must know, I own this bar, but I haven't yet found a reliable bartender. Every kid I hire ends up calling in sick every night or quitting after one day on the job. So yes, I am too good for this sort of thing, but I haven't really got a choice, now have I?" He set her glass in front of her. "Nine sickles."

"Start me a tab."

"Sure thing," Draco said as he threw a damp dishcloth over his shoulder. "Let me know when you're ready for your next round."

And Ginny sat momentarily stunned. Draco Malfoy was in the business of customer service.

It was nearing the end of the night, and Ginny was still sitting in the same seat. Draco was chatting with a few gentlemen across the bar. She was lost in thought, staring as she swirled two ice cubes in her diluted vodka.

"All right, Weasley, it's last call," Draco said, his voice tired. "Want another round?"

Ginny shrugged. "No olives."

Draco looked at her quizzically for a moment, but then he nodded and began to prepare her last drink. When he set the glass in front of her, he leaned foreward on his elbows, his face only a few inches from hers. "You going to make it home all right?"

She frowned into her glass. "I'm not even drunk."

He snorted. "Weasley, if you're sober right now, then I'm the Queen of England."

For whatever reason, Ginny found this terribly amusing, and she laughed aloud for nearly a minute without pause. "Prince of darkness, maybe."

The amusement washed away from him. "You going to be able to pay your tab?"

"Of course!" She took a sip of her drink and reached for her bag. "WhaddoI owe you?"

"Erm... four galleons, three sickles, twenty-eight knuts."

She choked on her drink. "Why in the bloody hell did you let me drink so damn much?" Ginny coughed. "Can you Floo my brother, George?"

"No time. Listen, Weasley, if you don't have enough to cover your tab, it's all right. You can... you can pay me tomorrow if you need to. I'll help you Floo home once the place clears out."

Ginny nodded, knowing well enough that she didn't have much choice. She probably did have enough money with her to pay him, but she certainly wasn't sober enough to count her coins. She decided that waiting for Draco to help her home would be the best and safest choice, so for now, she'd just close her eyes for a minute...

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she was thankful for was the dim lighting. She was still in the bar, but Merlin only knew how long she'd been there. Panic rose in her stomach for a moment, but once she realized that she was clutching her bag in her hands and that Draco Malfoy was still wiping down the counters, she began to remember her night.

"What time is it?" she asked groggily.

"Almost five," Draco said, tossing his towel beneath the counter into a bin. "Good to see you awake."

Ginny touched her hand to her head, feeling the pounding headache begin to return to her temples. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Let's see. Last call was at two. I locked the doors at three, and you crashed sometime between the two of those." He chuckled at her. "Do you make a habit of this kind of behavior, Weasley?"

She glared at him. "Of course not. Today just happened to be an especially terrible day."

"Right, well... d'you think you'll be able to make it home on your own, or shall I escort you?"

"Wait," Ginny said, holding up one finger in irritation. "You don't believe me, do you? You think I'm a bloody lush."

"I said no such thing."

"You implied it!"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think?" he asked with an impatient shrug. "I haven't seen you in, what, going on eight years now, and you come into my bar, make yourself a permanent resident, open yourself a tab, and then nine glasses of vodka later you inform me that you need me to call someone to come collect you. Sounds pretty problematic to me."

"For your information, Malfoy," Ginny hissed as she got to her feet, her knees still feeling a bit like jelly, "this... this is not me."

"Fine. You don't need to explain yourself to me. Can you get home on your own or can't you?"

"I got fired today, and my boyfriend... well, boy was that an interesting meeting he asked me to..."

"Bloody hell, I'm not standing around here all night."

Without waiting for Ginny to respond again, one way or another, Draco stood next to her, holding her tightly around the waist, and performed a Side-Along Apparation to his own flat.

For a moment, she thought she might retch, but instead, she took several deep breaths before reaching out her hand to find the nearest wall and slid down beside it. She closed her eyes tightly – the lighting in this room was brighter than that of the last, and she could already feel a headache coming on.

But then she smelled something delightful and pepperminty. When she opened her eyes, she saw that Draco was crouched near her, holding a much-needed mug of tea.

"Here," he said. "It's peppermint, and I've put a sobering potion in it so that you'll be able to get yourself home."

Ginny gratefully accepted the tea and took a sip. "Malfoy..."

"Yeah?"

She nibbled at her bottom lip. "I swear that the mess of a woman you've been dealing with tonight is not the typical Ginny Weasley."

"So you said. Drink your tea. I'd like to go to bed sometime this morning."

She took another large swig, feeling a gentle warmth flow through her body as she did. She wasn't quite sure if the warming sensation was from the tea or the potion, but Ginny didn't care much. She was sobering, and the more she did, the more she felt like a complete and utter disaster for how she had behaved at the bar.

"I got fired today," she began again. "I was working for the Prophet, and I was given an assignment... I had one day to write it in, and even though I worked all night, I just couldn't finish it."

"How unfortunate," he responded as he took a seat on the arm of the nearest lounge chair, sounding slightly bored, although not entirely insincere.

There was a long bout of silence again as Ginny continued to drink her hot tea, and by the time she had finished it, she had felt more refreshed than she had at any point during the day.

Draco stood up from his seat just as Ginny finished her drink. "Look, Weasley... I don't know you too well, but I remember that when we were kids... you were pretty sharp."

"What are you getting at?"

He shrugged, appearing to be mildly uncomfortable. "You need a job, and I need a bartender. If it doesn't work out, fine, but listen, you know I'm desperate if I am offering a job to a witch that just got herself so sloshed at my bar she couldn't even stay awake..."

Ginny snorted. "All right. What time should I come to work?"

He gave her a half-smile. "Six o'clock, sharp. And don't you dare be late."

Thanks to the wonderful Muggle Jane for the beta!