A/N: Thanks for the wonderful feedback, and thanks to my betas – Christy with a CH and tumble and fall for their wonderful, wonderful ideas! I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a bit shorter, but very important. I hope to get chapter four published very soon. :)

The next afternoon, I found myself sitting in a London café, staring across the table at Blaise Zabini.

I watched intently as he munched on his fish and chips, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I was staring at him. It wasn't really as though anything about the man surprised me - he looked exactly the same as he had when we were in school – but it was rather strange to be joining him for a meal. And besides the fact that he was careful not to intrude on my half of the table, he had made no acknowledgement whatsoever that we were even dining together.

I tapped my foot under the table as a show of my impatience. I had things to do, and I didn't really feel like watching Blaise eat all afternoon, even if he was a rather attractive man. After a few more minutes with no reply, I cleared my throat rather loudly.

He still paid me no attention.

"Okay, Blaise?" I began, finally reaching the point of being fed up. "Do you think that you and I could possibly squeeze in a few words between bites? I have things to do."

Finally, he looked up at me. I hated to admit how attractive I found the man to be, but when my breath caught in my throat at the look in his smouldering eyes, there was really no way for me to deny it. He was the polar opposite of Draco Malfoy – dark skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. And he smiled – something which also separated him from Draco. The way his eyes began boring into me made me look away immediately.

"Sorry, that was rude," I said, picking up my fork and jabbing at my salad. "I shouldn't have –"

"Took you long enough," he said, cutting me off. "You're much more patient than I gave you credit for."

And just like that, his good looks and his smouldering eyes meant nothing. I glared at him irritably. "You bloody annoying git! You were testing me?"

"That, I was, darling."

I let out a sound of disgust and threw my napkin on the table. I was getting entirely fed up with attractive men who knew how to get under my skin. It amazed me how Blaise and Draco could be so alike and so different at the same time – and I had just got done giving the former so much credit, too. "All right. Pansy told me I needed your help, so if you have got something to offer me, I'd be grateful for it. If your plan is just to drive me mad, well, I've got more important things to do."

He smirked at me as he eyed me up and down. "You're pretty cute when you're angry."

I had no response to that. I snapped my lips closed and crossed my arms, eyeing the man across the table in a way that made my feelings of exasperation very clear.

"All right, Weasley, here's the deal." He folded his hands on the table, eyeing me much more seriously. "You're in way over your head. Draco Malfoy is dangerous, and if he knows that you're after him, you're not going to be able to catch him easily. You've been to his flat, so chances are, he isn't going to be back there anytime soon."

"So – so, what do you suggest?"

He shrugged. "Investigate the case that he's being tried for. There's obviously a reason why Draco's not willing to go quietly." He must have noticed the utterly blank look plastered on my face because he went on after a momentary pause. "Do some digging, Weasley."

"But I'm not an Auror," I explained. "I don't have any idea of how to begin. I don't know what I'm even allowed to do or who I should speak to. I mean, I know I should talk to the witnesses, but other than that…"

He rolled his eyes. "Look, it's not that difficult. You're not an Auror, which means you don't need to abide by the law."

I faltered for a moment. "What do you mean by that?"

Blaise sighed deeply. "You're searching for a man who is wanted by all of the Aurors in Britain, who has got a ton of magical capabilities up his sleeve, and an uncanny ability to stay hidden when he doesn't want to be found. But you, Weasley, have got the opportunity to search for him without having to follow the book. That is what being a bounty hunter means." He shrugged, almost as if what he was saying was common knowledge. "You can talk to people unofficially – just get your information and use it to get where you've got to go. It's a lot easier than other people make it, which is why there are so few of us who are actually successful."

"You're a successful one, I take it."

"Naturally."

I covered my face with my hands for a minute. "What makes you think I'd be any good at all at this?"

He stood up from our booth and stood beside me, crouching down so that we were at eye level. I could feel his breath against my skin and his scrutinizing gaze piercing through me. "If you were crafty enough to get your own brother to hire you for such a dangerous, dangerous job, and you're cute enough for me to be enticed by you, Draco should be," he paused, "a cinch."

Slowly, I raised an eyebrow and watched as Blaise left the café.

This was about to become a little more interesting.

I had gone back to my flat after that interesting lunch I'd shared with Blaise. It wasn't as though I didn't understand what he had said, but I still wasn't sure if I had the stones for what he was implying. I'd never understood my brother's desire to become an Auror, and it seemed to me that being a bounty hunter was very similar job – only with less pay, less glory, and no help from people who actually had connections. Besides Ron, Blaise, and Pansy, I had no one to help me.

Well, that wasn't strictly true, was it? There was someone else who I knew rather intimately who had connections to everyone in the Wizarding world, but my pride wasn't going to let me go there. Never would I ask my ex-husband for help – not after I'd insisted mercilessly that I didn't need him. Not after the brutal fight that ended our marriage, and certainly not after I'd told him that his accomplishments were overrated and that the scar on his forehead was the sole reason for why anyone ever recognised what he looked like – because he was just so plain looking.

I didn't mean most of it – Harry, truly, was the nicest man I'd ever known – but we just didn't work. We were like two pieces of the same puzzle that didn't fit directly together, but were forced in anyway.

That's what our marriage had been – forced.

A white owl was waiting for me, pecking away at my window. I rolled my eyes and let the silly bird in, already knowing who the letter was from. "Hello, Hedwig II," I said, feeding her an owl treat. "I suppose he wants to meet up with me, doesn't he?"

Of course he did. I read through the letter quickly – skimming, really, for the important details – and discovered an address for a café on Fifth and Willowbrook. Despite my better judgment, and the fact that I had just come from lunch with Blaise, I decided to go. I Apparated to the coffee house he'd mentioned in the note and searched for that messy head of black hair that used to make my heart skip a beat.

I found him within minutes, sitting alone at a high table near the front of the store. I sat across from him, rolling my eyes at the fact that he had already ordered a cup for me.

This sarcastic gesture of mine was something he did not miss. "You've been here for thirty seconds and you're already irritated with me?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement. "No wonder we had the speediest divorce in the history of the Ministry."

"You ordered me coffee without bothering to ask what I wanted," I said, taking a sip regardless. Of course he had got me hazelnut flavoured coffee – my favourite, as it were. "It's just a bit presumptuous, isn't it? Maybe I drink something else these days. We haven't seen each other since –"

"Since the divorce, I know." He ran his hands through his hair. "If you would prefer something else, I'll buy you what you want. I just know you like you're coffee to cool down a little before you drink it."

Damn him. "No, this was what I wanted," I responded, slightly defeated at his thoughtfulness.

Neither of us said anything for several minutes, but I could tell that something was on the tip of his tongue. Impatiently, I began tapping my foot under the table. Though I knew in my heart that Harry wasn't trying to hurt me deliberately, every second that was wasted staring at each other was a second that I could have spent searching for Draco. And it wasn't easy to see Harry again, either.

Our eyes locked, and Harry opened his mouth to speak. "Look, Gin, I realise that I'm probably the last person who you want to see right now, but I'm worried about you."

Rather than becoming angry, I took a deep breath, steadying myself for whatever he had to say. "Why are you worried, Harry?" I asked through gritted teeth. I did have a feeling that I knew where this was going, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Well," he began, swallowing hard. "I, well, I spoke to Ron yesterday."

I opened my mouth with an angry retort ready on my tongue, but he held up a hand to silence me. For some reason, I decided to appease him – to put aside my own angry thoughts and bitter feelings – and let him speak.

"He said that you're going after Draco Malfoy, and I just wanted to make sure that you know what you're getting yourself into."

Once again, I was prepared to bite Harry's head off, but as I gathered my thoughts, it occurred to me that this situation might be more difficult for him than he had been letting on. His normally bright eyes were dulled with something akin to pain, and there was a meaning in his words that sunk in. My heart went out to him, and I felt absolutely awful. Here he was with his ex-wife, and without saying the words openly, he was saying that he knew. He knew that there was more to this for me than I had been saying. He knew this was not all about the money, and he realised that these silly feelings he knew I had for Draco had never disappeared completely. I said nothing, knowing that my silence would tell him that he could go on without interruption.

To my surprise, Harry didn't say anything at first. Instead, he pulled a file folder from his briefcase and slid it across the table. "This will help you," he said quietly. "It's everything I've got on Draco. There is… a lot that you don't know about him." It was obvious that he had chosen his words carefully, and that was something that I did appreciate. The last thing I needed was a bitter ex telling me how to feel.

Gingerly, I turned the file towards myself and opened it, scanning the pages quickly. My eyes bulged as I realised that Harry had given me Draco's permanent record from the six years he'd spent as a Ministry employee – as an Auror. Inside, there was a more in-depth character profiling, a record of every demerit and censure he had received while on duty, an index of his previous cases, a more detailed account of his magical abilities and preferences, and more. It was everything that I could have hoped for, and the fact that I was not employed by the Ministry meant that it was probably not legal for me to have it. Harry had put himself on the line for me, and I was honestly at a loss for words.

"Harry, thank you," I said honestly. "This was very nice of you."

He shrugged modestly, although I could tell he was pleased that I was happy. "There aren't any answers in there. I mean, you still have to know how to use the information that you have got, but it's a start."

I bit my lip, almost as if it would hold back the internal struggle I was facing, but there was just something I had to get off my chest. "I just want you to know that I'm sorry that we haven't really talked lately."

"No, you don't owe me any apologies, Ginny. Just… just focus on your case, all right? Nail him." He got up from his seat and took my hand, pressing his lips gently against my knuckles. "Promise me, though, that you won't forget that I'm always on your side. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Before I could respond, Harry was gone – out the door – leaving me alone in a café, dumbstruck and confused, with my heart slowly breaking at the thought of what a retched harpy I'd been.

Hours later, I was back at my flat. Draco's Ministry record was spread atop Seamus's case file, scattered over the kitchen table so that I could easily reference the pages that I needed. When I had first begun looking over the new information that Harry had provided for me, I had no idea what was relevant to this case. His Auror file contained information that ranged from censures he'd received, all the way to his favourite colour. Somehow, I figured that last bit wouldn't help me too much – unless Theo Nott had seriously badmouthed the colour green. Draco was a hothead, after all. I couldn't actually rule out anything setting Malfoy off.

Frustrated with my lack of experience, I decided to take a break. I put a pot of coffee on and sat down at the kitchen table, resting my head on my hands as I waited for it to finish brewing. It was only a moment later that I heard a small pop, signalling the sound of Apparation. I half-expected it to have been Harry, which irritated me irrationally. It would have been just like him to barge into my home and insist that I need his help – which I did, but my pride would never allow me to admit such things to him.

Sighing, I looked up, only to be greeted with someone quite unexpected.

"All right, Hermione?" I asked.

"How are you?" she asked in return, pulling up a seat beside me.

Over the years, after my brother and she had got married, Hermione and I became infinitely closer. She was my best friend – my confidante – and one of the few people besides my family who I would trust with my life. I trusted her more than I trusted Harry while we were still happily married. But something appeared to be out of sorts at that moment. I could read it in her expression and her body language.

I cocked my head to the side. "Spit it out, would you? I don't really fancy sitting here and trying to decipher hidden messages through your troubled expressions." I paused. "What's going on?"

Hermione rolled her eyes in amusement at the bluntness of my comment, but said nothing right away. Rather, she continued to look at me blankly for several minutes, twisting her fingers in her lap and bouncing her knees impatiently. Finally, she said, "I'm just worried about you, Ginny. Ron told me –"

"Merlin's underpants!" I exclaimed, standing from the table abruptly and nearly knocking over my chair in the process. "If one more bloody person tells me that they're worried about me because of this bloody search for Draco Malfoy, I swear I'll lose it. I mean it – I'll go absolutely barking mad!"

"Ginny, you're already a raving lunatic," Hermione retorted good-naturedly. "And anyway, Ron didn't send me to discourage you from this. He just wants me to make sure that you're not going to let this case bring up… old times. You've got a history with Malfoy, and it could easily cloud your judgment."

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I wrapped my arms around my middle and refused to look directly at my sister-in-law as I sat back down beside her. "I'm just doing this for the money, Hermione."

She nodded. Obviously, I had said exactly what she had thought I would. "Do I have to explain all of the ways in which I don't believe you, or can we skip that part?"

"Please skip it."

"All right. I'll just get right to the point then." She pulled out her beaded bag and reached inside. After a few seconds of digging around, Hermione pulled out a small object from her bag that I was not at all familiar with. It was grey and short with a small red button on the side. She placed it in my hand. "I got this for you."

I examined it for a few useless minutes before shrugging. "What's it for?"

She smiled kindly at me, almost as though she expected as such. "From what I understand, Gin, the case you're working involves some pretty bad men. And, I don't doubt your efficiency with your duelling, but I just think you need something a little bit extra."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Er – Hermione, I don't know if hitting anyone with this thing will do much," I said, eyeing the small contraption with confusion.

Hermione laughed out loud. "Oh, no, no. This is Pepper Spray." She turned it over and showed me the red button. "If you squeeze this, a mist of nasty spray will come out the tip, and you spray it right in the eyes of the person attacking you. Aim this here, you see?" she asked, indicating the tiny nozzle. "It won't cause any permanent damage, but it'll give you a chance to get away, or to hex them, or whatever you need to do."

"Spray it in their eyes?" I repeated. "Wicked."

"I realise that it's very Muggle, but I promise you that it's very, very effective way of slowing people down."

With a smile, I wrapped an arm around her, giving her a quick hug. "This is great, really." I nodded towards the fireplace. "You'd better get home, though, before Ron implodes."

Nodding, she stood and approached the fire, grabbing a handful of Floo powder and preparing to disappear. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she turned to me once more, obviously struggling with what she wanted to say to me. "I know I said I'd leave it alone, but I just can't, Gin."

I hung my head.

"Malfoy means a lot to you, and if you come anywhere near seeing him, he's not going to hesitate using your feelings against you. Just remember that, all right? I promise I won't keep going on about it anymore."

On the tip of my tongue, I had all of the words I wanted to say. I could tell her that I'd seen him and that she was absolutely right. When Draco looked at me, all semblance of self-control that I normally maintained had gone right out the window. My whole body went into submission and my heart wouldn't stop pounding, just from the look in his eyes. I swallowed, containing those emotions, and plastered as genuine of a smile on my face as I could muster.

"Thanks," I said, my throat going bone dry. "I can take care of myself, though."

She nodded once, and then she was gone, leaving me feeling guilty for lying to my best friend, frustrated about Draco, irritated at Blaise, confused about Harry, angry at Ron, and genuinely flustered at the fact that nothing in the world seemed to make sense anymore.

Coffee forgotten in the kitchen, I went to bed. Tomorrow was another day.