Chapter Seven – Dinner, Interrupted

"Ron, I can handle this alone," Harry said with a smile as he gathered the glasses, knowing full well that Ron had something else on his mind.

"She does look familiar, doesn't she?" Ron said, his face screwed up in a manner that looked quite painful to Harry. "I mean, it was the first thing I thought when she walked in the room, ' I know her from somewhere.' She wasn't at Hogwarts, was she? She's about our age."

Harry thought about it for a moment. "I don't think so. Someone like that would be hard to miss roaming the halls. To tell you the truth she reminds me a bit of your last girlfriend -- Maria-what's her face."

"Maria Elena," Ron said pensively. "She does, doesn't she? Maybe that's why I feel like I know her?"

Harry smiled. "You're afraid you shagged her, aren't you?"

"What?"

"Oh, don't play innocent with me. You had quite a list going before you came to your senses and finally got together with Hermione."

Ron grimaced. "There weren't that many."

"Are you serious? There were four alone this year, five if you count Hermione, and it's only June."

"That's not many," Ron said dismissingly. "It just seems like a lot to you because you lived the life of a monk for so long."

"No Ron, it is a lot. And don't think I don't know about the girls you shagged between actual girlfriends."

"What? Are you keeping a score card?"

Harry continued to gather the glasses and, rather casually, said, "I did as a matter of fact."

Ron froze. "Did what?"

"Keep score."

"You're joking."

"No. Monkdom is very boring, and I needed something to keep me entertained." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook.

"You carry it around with you!"

Harry grinned. "One never knows when one's best friend is going to need to be put in his proper place. Now, while I will admit you've only had eight official girlfriends, I think it should be noted that you didn't start officially dating anyone until about a year and a half ago. Before then there was a string of 'we had a couple of drinks and one thing led to another' girls,-- six, I think, in total. We also had four 'she liked chess and one thing led to another' girls, and eight 'she was a huge fan of the Cannons and one thing led to another' girls."

"Booze, chess, and the Cannons!" he exclaimed. "I'm only human."

Harry smiled sympathetically, already fully aware that booze, chess, and The Cannons were considered foreplay by Ron. Unperturbed, Harry continued t o share his annotations: "I saw you had a preference for blondes. It was an almost two to one ratio, which I found interesting since, of course, I knew where your heart belonged."

"Brunettes reminded me too much of Hermione."

"So, you looked for un-Hermione like girls?" Harry asked.

"Mostly."

"Does that mean dumb?"

"If I was lucky," he said with a shrug. "The dumb ones tend to be easier to get rid of. They get lost in crowds and are easily distracted by shiny things."

"You are such a romantic."

"I like to think so."

Harry looked back to his notes. "I found it odd that you never once dated a red head."

Ron shook his head vigorously. "Too much of a chance of us being related, mate. I couldn't risk the chance that she turned out to be along lost cousin; they have a habit of popping up at the most inopportune times. What's the point of this walk down memory lane, anyway?"

"No point really, other than just badgering you, of course, which needs no reason at all. I've been waiting for the right opportunity to spring this on you; monks lead excruciatingly dull lives, remember. Besides all that, however, I don't doubt that some small part of you is afraid you know this girl in an up-close and personal kind of way."

"No. Absolutely, unequivocally…probably….most likely not."

Harry said nothing but allowed Ron to wallow in his own misery – a pastime he found he rather liked once in a while; all that was missing was a tub of popcorn and a camera to preserve the moment for posterity.

As Harry's silence continued, Ron began to squirm. "Dammit, Harry, I know her; I just can't place it. But I have a feeling once I figure it out I'm not going to be too pleased about the whole thing."

"Relax, Casanova. If it's any consolation I don't think you shagged her. I've kept very good records and she doesn't seem to fit any of the descriptions."

"Records? What did you keep records of?"

"The basics: height, weight, hair color, eye color, proportions-"

"Proportions? Is that a nice way to say boobs and bum?"

"Pretty much. Do I have to mention the monk stuff again?" Ron shot him a rather dirty look. "I also kept track of were you met, how long the relationship lasted, and why you dumped her."

"You kept a record of all that? It's really pathetic, you know."

"Yes, I know, which is why it never leaves this room unless you want me to show it to Hermione. I think she'd rather like my rating system."

"Rating system?"

"One star if you considered a memory charm to forget the evening, two stars if you remembered her actual name, three stare if you stayed the night, and four stars if you used Quidditch terminology to describe your night together."

Ron was visibly impressed. "Anyone go over four stars?"

"Just one. Evelyn Bronheimer."

"Evelyn? The Rockshire Rocket back-up Seeker and part-time exotic dancer?"

Harry smiled dreamily and was about to say something when a rather annoyed looking red head entered the room in a huff. "What the blazes are you two doing in here? How difficult it is to get a few glasses." She grabbed the tray of glasses Harry had collected and stormed out. The pointed look she gave him before she left told Harry they were going to have one of those 'lots of talking and little else' nights. Merlin, he hated those.

They followed her out, Harry smiling sheepishly to Hermione, who was too busy glaring at Ron to notice. Iris, seeing Hermione's reaction, or more likely feeling the burn from the death rays blaring out of her eyes, smiled understandingly at Harry. It was as if she knew they were talking about her, as if she was used to that sort of thing happening to her.

Fifteen minutes, and five bottles of wine later wine later, the six were seated around the table eating and talking. Iris was an excellent conversationalist, talking about sports and theater with the same comfortable ease. Hermione beamed proudly every time someone laughed at Iris's joke or complimented her on some point she made. Harry tried to interject as often as he could, trying to keep everything light and also trying to steer attention away from Ron, who kept staring at Iris with a stalker-esque glower.

"…and then I said, 'Oh sorry I suppose that is a wand in your pocket.'" The room exploded in laughter at Iris's story. Amidst all the mirth Ron's voice shot out, cutting through the din. "Malfoy!"

Ginny froze and turned to him. "What?"

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. That's who Iris reminds me of. It's been making me crazy all night and now I see you have the same coloring and similar features. You even seem to carry yourself the same way."

It was as if a spotlight had been turned on and it was shining solely on Iris. Everyone turned to face her, examining her like she was the latest exhibit at a Muggle Zoo (that would a zoo for Muggles, not of Muggles, but either works in this analogy).

The room fell stone silent. Hermione had gone a bit yellow.

"Draco. Of course," Terry exclaimed. "I don't know why I didn't see it before; the resemblance is quite astounding."

"It should be," Iris continued, "Draco is my cousin."

The silence that previously ensconced the room now gave way to a more acute stillness.

"Your cousin!" Hermione shouted. "You never said anything about that."

"You didn't ask," Iris replied with a smile. "I didn't think it made a difference. I have several cousins."

"It's just…it's just that we…we've known Draco for a long time and ….well, it wasn't always the most pleasant of …relationships." Ginny tried as best she could to explain that Draco was not popular among the occupants of the table."

"Is that because he was an arse when you where in school together?" Iris asked.

The silence became more silent.

Iris laughed. "It's all right. I know all about it. Draco was a royal pain. Terribly spoiled and just rotten to the core. I hated him too."

"What?" was said by just about everyone in the room.

Iris laughed louder, covering her mouth with her hands to restrain the giggles. "Oh, the look on your faces. Priceless!"

"Are you having us on?" Ron asked, as a recurring victim of the twin's experimentation Ron was genuinely nervous.

"I'm sorry for laughing, it's just that I know how Draco used to be, so I can completely understand your reaction."

"What do you mean how he used to be?"

"Oh, you haven't seem him in years, have you?" She paused to wipe a tear from her eyes. "Well it's sad story, really. He's changed quite a bit since his father died. His mother had gone off the deep end a long time ago and Draco…well, he hasn't been the same."

"I didn't realize his mother was gone," Ginny said sorrowfully.

"Yes, she abandoned him and vanished without a trace."

"I thought I heard she was in America selling beauty supplies to Muggles on something called The Home Shopping Network," Ron asked.

"Rumors are a vicious thing, Ron," is all Iris said, as she looked down and slowly shook her head.

Hermione glared furiously at Ron, and Harry was pleased that he wouldn't be the only one not getting any that night.

"Anyway," Iris continued, "with his fortune and his family both gone, Draco got a job at the Ministry and recently got promoted to the position of Deputy Minster of Foreign Affairs."

"Sounds like he goes to parties and sleeps with exotic women," Ron snorted. Hermione nearly went cross-eyed and Harry knew at that moment that Ron might never have sex again.

Iris laughed. "I'm sure he does, Ron. I hope so, actually, because between his job and his work with the orphans-"

"Orphans?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, damn my mouth. I wasn't supposed to say anything. Please forget I mentioned it."

"You can't just throw around words like 'Draco' and 'orphans' and not give us more details. I mean unless the words: eats, kills, maims, or disembowels, are between them."

Iris looked as if she was battling with her desire to keep a secret and to clear Draco's sullied reputation. "Oh," she said, finally relenting. "Draco is helping children left orphaned after the wars. He does it anonymously because he knows his name has some notoriety attached to it and he doesn't want that to take away from the work he is trying to do."

Ron, who was completely incapable of shutting up, continued: "I would think he'd want to get his name out there in order to help his reputation."

"His reputation doesn't matter to him. In fact he sometimes uses a glamour when he volunteers."

"Volunteers?"

"Oh, yes. He's always volunteering somewhere or another. St. Mungo's children's ward. Bundimum Center for Abused Animals. The Squib Foundation. I don't know when he finds the time to do it all."

"Are you sure we are talking about the same Draco Malfoy?"

"Pretty sure. You did say he looks just like me, didn't you?" She flashed another brilliant smile.

"I'm sorry. I'm just having a really hard time believing all this." Ron

"I understand. It must be hard to imagine. After all, you only remember the boy who went to school with you, but I can assure you that the man is quite different. He's…well…he's one of a kind," Iris said sweetly.