Ginny Weasley was walking down a street in New York. She was so blindingly drunk that she really couldn't be sure what street it was. Blindingly, mind numbingly, piss-ass drunk. While thinking about how drunk she was she tripped over her own feet and fell flat on her face.

"Well fancy meeting you here," said a voice that was oddly familiar. She looked up, trying to see through her alcohol induced haze. All she could see was a black blur. Then as she looked up another dizzying height, she spotted a white blur perched on top of the black blur. That was when she passed out, her last thought being 'I've only ever seen hair that white once...'

Draco Malfoy sighed deeply. There he was, innocently minding his own business as he walked down a seemingly deserted street in New York, and who did he run into? The littlest Weasel herself. Completely wasted, as it happened.

Which was how he had ended up with a Weasley on his couch as he prepared a hangover draught. Speaking from experience he knew she'd feel bloody awful when she woke up, but a good, strong hangover draught followed by a big cup of coffee should just about do it. Finishing the potion he wiped his hands on his robes. His flat was in a strictly wizarding part of New York.

Just then he heard groan from his living room. "Right on cue," he murmured, taking a cup of the potion and a much bigger cup of coffee and going into the living room.

"Merlin's bloody TESTICLES! Malfoy!?!" with that, Ginevra Weasley passed out. Again.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" muttered the blonde, leaning over and slapping Ginny. "Now that makes it all worth it," he muttered.

Ginny jerked awake. "What... Malfoy... Oh Merlin... Ugh, I feel sick."

"That would be because you're currently a walking bottle of vodka in human form. Drink this and don't you dare throw up on my carpet," he shoved the draught under her nose.

"It smells horrible."

"Not any worse then you do, Weasley. Drink it, now," said Draco firmly. Making a face Ginny did as commanded and drank the sickly green stuff down.

"Disgusting...," she muttered, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

"You're welcome, Weasley. Drink the coffee, it'll get rid of the taste." She didn't answer, just took the cup of coffee from his hands and took a huge gulp of it. Normally she hated coffee black, but sobriety potions never sat well in her stomach. She hated the way they tasted so the coffee was a life-saver.

"Thank you," muttered Ginny as she finished. "I'll Apparate out of here, sorry to inconvenience you, Malfoy."

Draco surveyed her with pursed lips. "Much as I'd love to have you out of my house, Freckly, you're in no condition to Apparate and I won't have your brothers crawling out of the woodwork to kill me when they discover two pieces of you in separate continents."

"I'm not going back to England," she said. She didn't mention the fact that she had no place to Apparate back to other than the pub. She didn't have a place to stay, nor did she know anyone in New York. A bitter taste rose in her mouth as she remembered last night. Remembered stumbling out of her flat in England, away from everything, and apparating to New York, despite the fact that they taught you during your test, you never apparated when agitated, and Ginny had been more then a little agitated.

"Weasley! Weasley, I am talking to you. Do I need to slap you again!?"

"Sorry. Look, I'll just Apparate out of here, and you never have to see me again."

"I just told you, you're not Apparating while you're all messed up. I have a fireplace, and I'm sure you do. You can Floo home." Ginny looked uncomfortable. "Do you even have a home? Weasley, good lord, you don't have a damned place to stay, do you!?!" Ginny reluctantly shook her head. "For fuck's sake, Weasley. Alright, what are you running from?" she didn't answer. "Do you have any money?" Reluctantly, she shook her head again. "Typical... You Gryffindors. When a Slytherin is running away they're at least clear headed enough to get money first."

"When you're done insulting me, Malfoy-"

"You came to New York, and what? You had twenty sickles in your pocket, so, instead of finding a room, you spent it all drinking away your sorrows. How very intelligent of you," said Malfoy crossly. "You can stay here." She opened her mouth to protest. "You'll help out around the flat, don't think this is free. I have a guest room, you'll cook and help clean and in return I'll let you stay here, for a while, but this does not make us friends Weasley."

"Thank Merlin," muttered Ginny. She figured it was useless to protest anymore. She needed somewhere to stay and someone to feed her.

It was three days after Ginny Weasley had woken up in Draco Malfoy's flat in New York. It was six o'clock in the evening. Ginny was alone in the flat as Draco was at work. She had resolved that she was going to make dinner. The last two nights they had had take out, and Ginny was certain if she saw one more Chinese take-out box, she'd scream.

So, now determined, Ginny opened up the refrigerator. There were three take-out boxes, a jug of milk, two apples, a stick of butter, a carton of strawberries and a can of tomato sauce.

"Not a whole lot to work with...," muttered Ginny.

She poked her head into the miniscule pantry. There was a bunch of canned junk. She ignored it. She'd seen Draco open up a can of corned beef hash (which she had discovered she deeply loathed), but wasn't sure of how to work the can opener. She did discover a box of pasta. "Ah ha!" said Ginny triumphantly. After much deliberation she decided to make spaghetti, and, for dessert, strawberry smoothies. She was sure she knew how to work the blender.

Promptly, she filled a pot with water and set it to boil. She slid the pasta into the pot and left it, deciding to go change. She only had a few robes, but she didn't wish to look like a total slag. Draco was a good-looking man and his seeming ignorance of the fact she was female bothered her immensely. So she put on the nicest robes she had brought, and went out to make the smoothies, turning the spaghetti down to a temperature that would just keep it warm.

She got out ice, the milk and the strawberries. She cut up the strawberries, dumping them into the blender and stuck the ice in, and then poured milk into the blender after the first two ingredients. With absolute confidence, she hit the ON button.

Ice, milk and strawberries sprayed EVERYWHERE. All over her face, down inside her robes, in her hair.

"Shit!" said Ginny succinctly. She glanced at the clock. Draco wouldn't get home for another hour. He'd told her this morning that he had a late meeting and wouldn't be back before seven thirty, and so to behave or he'd lock her in the closet.

Calculating that she had enough time, and not wanting the milk to sour on her robes, Ginny just stripping them off and plopped them into the sink. As she stood there in a white cotton bra and green silk thong panties, the kinds with the bows that sat on each hipbone and served no purpose whatsoever, the pot on the stove began to boil and hiss, smoke billowing up. She hadn't turned the burner down, she had turned it up.

Without thinking she grabbed the pot. It was so hot she promptly dropped it, hot water splattering everywhere, washing some of the smoothie mix off of the counters and onto the ground.

As Ginevra Weasley stood there, with smoothie in her hair, face red from steam, bra mostly see through from a combination of sweat and milk, Draco Malfoy walked into the kitchen.

"Eep," squeaked Ginny, turning a deep, dark shade of red.

The blonde hadn't yet noticed her. He was looking at his kitchen, usually immaculate, now covered in smoothie and spaghetti. "Holy fuck, Weasley, I leave you alone for twelve hou-" he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes having found her.

Ginny later swore she heard Draco gasp. He denied it, but the fact was, he had. And who could blame him. Her bra was see-through, the nipples underneath puckered into little points, pressing against the thin fabric. Her hair was tumbled about her head, sticky with smoothie. And she was wearing the tiniest panties Draco had ever seen.

"Nice panties," said Draco, arching an eyebrow at her, smirking. Ginny went an even darker shade of red and started to try to stammer out an explanation. "Shhhh..." said Draco, starting to laugh. Yes, actually laugh. "Have you ever cooked the muggle way?" Ginny shook her head, glaring at Draco.

"What?" she snapped.

"You do realize you're completely covered in....," he reached over, brushing his finger down her arm, and then licked his finger. "Smoothie mix?"

Ginny arched an eyebrow at him, bent down and scooped a handful of smoothie off the floor. Quite calmly, she ground it into Draco's hair. "Ooooops."

"You. Did. Not!" said Draco, eyes wide in horror. His hair!

"I. Did. Too," said Ginny, mocking his tone.

"I don't like you Weasel, but have I ever messed up your hair!?! No!" said Draco, inscensed. Ginny was giggling uncontrollably, even while Draco picked her up. He carried her, in her underwear, covered in smoothie mix, into the bathroom. While she was still shaking with giggles, he plopped her into the bathtub, turned on the shower head and blasted Ginny with ice cold water.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK" shrieked Ginny, her eyes flying wide open. She stumbled out of the shower, while Draco laughed. Her hair was dripping, her bra was plastered, quite see-through, to her chest and she was blinking water out of her wide brown eyes. "Why you... Why you... That was cold!"

Draco replied by shaking with laughter. "Yo- your, ex- expre- expression.... Merlin...." he managed to gasp out. Gin picked up the detachable showerhead and sprayed him with cold water.

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!" yelled Draco, spluttering. He got up, looking dangerous. For Ginny, instinct took over. She meeped and ran out of the bathroom, ducking around him, barely missing having her ankle grabbed. She made a mindless, mad dash for her room, intent on getting somewhere where she could lock the door. It all suddenly felt dangerous and serious.

She ran into her bedroom and slammed the door. Except it didn't shut all the way. She pushed, trying to get it shut, but Draco was stronger. He pushed it opened and stalked in. Ginny backed up. The edge of the bed caught her at the knees and she fell onto the bed, half laying down, knees akimbo. Ginny started to withdraw, towards the wall, but Draco reached forward and put a hand on each of her knees.

"Surely there's an encore to such a fetching show?"

Ginny gulped audibly. "I don't know what you mean," she squeaked.

"You don't?" said Draco, creeping up closer, his hands never leaving her knees.

"N-no," stammered Ginny feeling positively terrified

"Don't mess up my kitchen again Weasley," said Draco. He let his eyes drift up and down her and she could swear she heard him mutter 'no matter how fetching you look afterwards.' He pulled back. "Get dressed."

"Don't boss me around, Malfoy!"

"Excuse me?" Draco turned and looked back over his shoulder at her. "Whose flat is this?"

"O-ours."

"No, Weasley darling. I illegally sublet it to you. In fact, not even that, as you don't pay. I'm simply letting the poor hopeless little girl that I found outside my apartment building stay hear, out of the warmth of my big, fat, heart."

"Why?" asked Ginny, standing up, her arms crossed under her breasts.

Draco did not answer her. At least, he didn't address her question. "Weasley, you are dripping on my hardwood floors. And if you don't fucking put on some clothing, I'm going to think that you've decided on a better way to pay me off for the food and clothes."

Ginny looked puzzled for a moment, before an expression of understanding crept over her wet face. She let out a shriek and shoved him, with surprising strength, out of her bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. "How dare you!" yelled the enraged redhead at her door, stamping her small foot for emphasis. A dark chuckle came from the other side of the door.

"If you're going to walk around my house with your arse hanging out and your breasts as good as bared, Weasley, I'm going to do more than dare."

From then on, Ginny wore clothes. Covering clothes. Having been so disoriented when she apparated into New York in the first place, she had brought a rather odd assortment of clothing. The end result was that most of the time she now walked around wearing a horrifically orange Chudley Cannons sweater that seemed to want to climb over her face and suffocate her, a pair of mens muggle trousers and a wizards robe. In short, she walked around looking like an insane shunted quidditch player with a complex about having an inch of skin below his chin available for view.

Draco mostly ignored her, and her change of wardrobe, (except for one amused look the morning she had first come out dressed in such a way) other than to grunt at her to pass the condiments at dinner. They always ate dinner together, sitting with one another at the dining room table. Neither ever questioned the resemblance of their dinners to family dinners, it just was.

Ginny had mastered cooking the muggle way by now, as it had been a good month since the incident. But she still wouldn't go near the blender. In fact, any time it was in evidence she tended to find a reason to be on the opposite side of the room. After the first incident, when Draco had made a rather biting comment about it, and it had ended with Ginny trying to shove her wand into a very uncomfortable place of the older man's anatomy, he limited himself to smug smirks and asking her 'innocently' if she felt like smoothies for dessert.

In fact, their lives developed a rather smooth routine. They woke up. Neither were morning people and so they each sullenly and silently nursed a cup of coffee, Draco's black, Ginny's with so much milk and sugar that Draco had taken to calling it her morning toothache. Then Draco would grab the piece of toast with jam that Ginny always made him for breakfast and eat it as he walked out the door for work. The redhead spent her day at home, cleaning and talking to herself. When Draco got home around five, Ginny always had dinner ready and waiting. It was never fancy, usually just sandwiches and canned soup, or salad and garlic bread. Something simple.

It was a good routine and Draco, who loved routine, as long as it wasn't the one he had grown up with, was irked when one evening, there was a break in his perfectly laid out day. He got home at five and called out a clipped hello into the apartment. There was no cheerful call back from the kitchen. Scowling already, he stuck his head into the kitchen that his flatmate had insisted on painting a lively yellow, because when she had first arrived it had been a sterile white. Nobody. The stove was off, and, when he passed his hand over the burner, it was stone cold.

Quite, quite displeased now (where on earth was she, and why was there no dinner?!), the blonde stormed over to Ginny's room and threw open the door. There was a huddled form on the bed, shaking silently, half covered with a black blanket. Her eyes were screwed shut, and even if they had been open, were too full of tears to see him. So when he sat next to her, still scowling, she jerked. "Calm down, you sniveling woman, it's just me." Draco ran a hand down her arm soothingly. "Now what the hell is wrong, that my dinner is uncooked and most definitely not on the table?" he snapped, while his thumb made tiny circles on the back of her hand.

She just sniffled at him and he opened his mouth to say more, but by now her blanket had fallen down and her face was in clear view. His mouth snapped shut as he took in her full appearance. Her eyes were swollen up and red, sure, but something didn't fit for just a feminine crying fit. There was vomit in the corner of her mouth. His eyes went wide. "Weasley, are you pregnant??? It's one thing to show up drunk on someone's doorstep. But you know, it's quite a different one to show up drunk and pregnant in the doorstep of the only heir to a family that has been fueding with yours for ages."

"I'm-"

"Really, it's a simply heinous offense to be PREGNANT and helpless and penniless. Not to mention your hair. And your freckles and your annoyingly fetching habit of tossing your hair in my face so I can smell your shampoo, or the way you pout at me, and at this point, if you're preg-"

"Malfoy I'm-"

"Don't interrupt, Weasley, it's rude! As I was saying, if you're pregnant, I will throw you out on your lovely round arse."

"Throw away Malfoy, but-"

"You are pregnant!"