A/N: Longest chapter so far up! I personally did enjoy writing this one, I hope you guys will like it too.

Disclaimer: Belongs to JK... blah


"Come on, Draco!" Pansy rapped her knuckles on the ebony door that led to Draco's bedroom. "We are going to be late!"

There was no reply, and so Narcissa decided to join her, "Draco, please dear, do hasten. It is impolite to be late."

"Mother! I should like to think that you want me to look at least presentable!" Draco's angry voice was heard from behind the door.

Pansy snorted. "Presentable?" she muttered under her breath.

Narcissa gave her a questioning look, but turned her attention back at her son before long, "Draco Malfoy! Don't you dare to take that tone with me!" she did not yell; Narcissa Malfoy never yelled, she stated her demands- loudly.

"Mother! I am trying to get ready!" Draco, who did yell, yelled back.

"You've been there getting ready for the past three hours!" Pansy joined in the yelling, mostly because yelling at a Malfoy without getting cursed into next week was like getting a free ride on a roller coaster that everyone's been talking about.

"Fine!" Draco practically ripped the door open. "Let's go!"

The three hours he spent alternatively in his dressing room and bathroom left Draco slightly better-looking than before, but the change would be noticed only by the people that knew his visual profile rather well. He was wearing forest-green official robes, and his hair was sleeked back, reminding his companions of the Draco Malfoy from his school years. Narcissa, who took his arm after he exited his room, was wearing a light pink gown that pompously fell down to her ankles, and there it appeared to think highly of itself. With simple gold jewelry, and her hair up in a sophisticated cascade of curls, she met the Malfoy standards right on mark. Pansy, walking on Draco's other side as they entered the Zabini hall where the Christmas party was taking its place, looked ever so elegant in a simple, strapless midnight-blue gown with a wide skirt that matched her dark blue eyes. Her hair, like Narcissa's was up, but in a simple bun rather than anything elaborate.

"The Malfoys," run through the crowd as Blaise rushed forward to meet them. Pansy flashed him a brilliant smile; whilst she was bothered by the fact that the crowd did not bother to register that she was aParkinson, she enjoyed the fame of the Malfoys who were basically her adopted family.

"Great to see you, Draco, Pans," Blaise greeted him, and Pansy noticed that there was something unusual in his expression- could be worry? "Mrs. Malfoy, always a pleasure."

Narcissa nodded and smiled at him, while Draco shook hands with Blaise and Pansy grinned in approval.

Soon after, the three of the Malfoys (one Parkinson included) split apart ant meddled among the guests by themselves as were they all used to. Blaise took introduced them to a few prominent names among which fell the new Minister of Magic, Percy Weasley , or the British Quidditch star Oliver Wood who just ensured Britain the first World Cup in almost a century. They were also introduced to a timid young woman whom Pansy recognized almost instantly as the 'slut that went out with Potter', but her good manners kept her quite polite during the exchange. Narcissa soon had made her way to the 'senior' section of the party where she was greeted by Mrs. Zabini and Augusta Longbottom, who despite everyone's expectation survived the post-war battle that took the place at her house. The Minister seemed busy talking to boring-looking people, and so neither Draco nor Pansy had any interest in talking to him.

Pansy stayed next to Draco for couple of minutes, watching him talk to Cho Chang, who was introduced them as the 'aspiring new biologist', saying herself very little. Realizing that she was making herself look like a big dolt attached to the Malfoy shoulder, she politely joined the conversation intending to excuse herself as soon as possible.

"Oh, HIV," she said, "I was not aware that it presented a problem in the Wizarding society. I have heard that it is quite common in Muggles, but I had no idea that our folks were getting affected."

"Yes," Cho nodded, "the number of wizards and witches suffering from the diseases almost tripled in ten years. The Ministry is truly concerned."

"So what exactly do you do?" Draco asked, obviously oblivious to Pansy's tactics.

"I am part of the team that is working on the cure. I've been assigned to the project only recently, not even a half month ago. The research team sends us all their results, so now, using the Ancora Repelit we have been able to locate the source of the disease, and hopefully we will be able to make some real progress now," Cho said, sipping elf wine from her glass- Pansy could see that she did not thought herself to be an orator, and thus the older woman appeared unsure of herself.

"Well, I am going to try to look for something to cure my thirst. All this disease talk made me dehydrated," Pansy joked lightly, and left Draco to suffer alone in the presence of the 'Ravenclaw slut', as Pansy called the other witch in her head.

She made her way to the bar, making small talk with the people she knew on the way. Pansy was not exactly in the mood to party. She would much rather curl up in front of the big Malfoy fireplace and read a good book. She used to be described as a 'party animal' but lately, more like the last two years, she would avoid big parties, preferring the smaller ones during which she did not risk running into people that bored her.

An hour went by, during which, Pansy went through three Martinis and one shot of vodka, and nothing happened. It was the typical Christmas party- people talked, mingled, chitchatted, and ass-kissed the important people and all in all, nothing happened.

Pansy was on her fourth Martini, when she was interrupted by the barman pouring her another drink. Pansy raised her eyebrows in question.

"The man over there," the barman pointed, to a crowd of people, and Pansy was about to present him with a snarky comment referring to his pointing abilities, when the crowd of women moved apart enough for her to see the tall Quidditch player that was looking straight at her.

Pansy, fighting the urge to blush, nodded in reply, and raised the Martini glass to her lips. He smiled at her lightly, and she responded with reserved smile of her own before turning away.

She had no trouble recognizing the famous face; it was Oliver Wood. International Quidditch player, always surrounded by women wherever he went. Pansy critically followed the group as it moved from under her eyelashes. She would never show actual interest, but she wanted to evaluate the man who was esteemed by man and sent her the drink. Of course, many men tried to make a contact with the cold, blue-eyed witch, but her coldness and sarcasm, more often than not on purpose, drove them away. Pansy was her own witch, and she would be not used by every man that could be bothered to pay for her drink.

Oliver Wood, at twenty-seven, was the walking definition of attractive. He was tall, with square, muscular shoulders, and thick brown hair, cropped short. Pansy could not tell from as far away, but she would bet that he had dark brown eyes, and a square, jagged jaw line. She thought that he was looking at her as well, but from that far away, it was hard to tell. In her consideration of his persona, Pansy felt the old prejudice trying to return to its proper place, and tell her that he was not even worth looking at, since he was a Gryffindor. Pansy chuckled to herself. The Hogwarts House animosity seemed childish and rather silly now, when she was looking back at her school years.

"Hello. I am glad you liked the Martini," a deep, raspy voice said behind her, and Pansy turned to see the subject of her thoughts standing in front of her. When she was thinking about Hogwarts, she temporarily lost her sight of him, and it would appear that he put her distraction to use. She was satisfied that she was right about his eyes; they were dreamy, chocolate, brown…

"Yes, thank you," Pansy nodded gracefully.

"I am Oliver Wood," he stated the obvious, offering his hand. "Care to dance?"

"Sure," Pansy's eyes glittered with amusement as she read from his little act that he had no idea who he was talking to; well, all better for her.

"No name?" he chuckled, "You are possibly the only witch in the whole room who did not make it a point to introduce herself to me."

"I don't think that I am that special," Pansy smirked. "I assume that Augusta Longbottom or Narcissa Malfoy hadn't had the pleasure of running after you themselves."

"No, of course. They were introduced to me by our host himself," Oliver replied, spinning her easily on the dance floor. "So what is your name?"

"A name you would attach no value to," Pansy said mysteriously, as she faced him again.

"Isn't that for me to judge?" he asked, still smiling. "But have it your way, you can be my Incognito Lady."

"Yours?" Pansy chuckled sourly.

"Yes, you shall be my Incognito Lady of tonight," he replied, and Pansy saw that maybe she was not the only one who had one too many Martinis, yet she decided to play along.

"Only for tonight, honey?" she joked with a light chuckle. "I thought we were talking commitment here."

"If my Lady wills it so, it will be commitment," his smile remained plastered upon his face, but his eyes gained the glitter of a personal joke that matched Pansy's, who was wondering if she was the cat or the mouse in this game.

"Shouldn't the Lord be the one who has the final say in it?" Pansy said.

"So I am your Lord?" he caught on quickly.

"For tonight," she grinned at him, her glee shimmering through her.

"Is it so?" his eyes gained a deeper shade of dark chocolate, and there was something new in his expression.

"So it would seem," Pansy evaded a direct answer.

"Oh, really?" he chuckled, grabbing her hand and quickly pulling her after him out of the ballroom and outside in one of the gardens of the mansion.

The coldness of the air surprised them both. It was snowing outside, and snowflakes quickly landed on Pansy's bare shoulders. She chuckled lightly- she wasn't sure what she was doing. She had exactly enough alcohol in her blood to relax and let the snow fall on her as she stretched out her arms. The silliness of the situation made her laugh. It was completely random, and well, silly. She was standing in a snowstorm outside of a party with one of the most-desired wizards in Britain. There would be always time to be gloomy later.

Oliver watched the witch next to him giggle as the snow flakes slowly started covering her hair, braiding the black with white. She was truly beautiful, and he was around plenty of pretty witches.

Pansy opened her eyes to see Oliver looking at her with admiration, and she smiled to herself. Yes, admiration, exactly how she liked it- before the War, that is. Her thoughts of the War were soon forgotten as the Quidditch player slowly leaned forward and pressed his lips on hers. His strong arms pulled her into a hug, and his hands traced up and down her bare back. She returned the gesture, and her slender fingers, tangled in his dark hair, discovered the true thickness of it.

"Want to get out of here?" he muttered into her mouth.


Eventually, even Draco got bored of Cho Chang. Sure, she was pretty to look at, but what she said was dull and not exactly party talk. And thus, Draco decided to venture in search of a drink, and left the woman to bore someone else. He scanned the crowd for Pansy, but he could not see her anywhere, but before he had time to actually look, his attention was grabbed by a surprisingly blonde head. The woman, with hair so blonde that it almost matched his own, was dancing with Blaise, and Draco could tell that his friend was showing off. Big time. Yet, Draco thought, as he approached, that he caught something else in Blaise's expression, other than pride, as well. It was especially evident when his eyes met his dance partner's.

When close enough to see their faces, Draco was puzzled. Blaise was dancing with something that appeared to be a tall and lanky Christmas tree. The woman, for Draco assumed that it was a woman under the garlands and glass balls that decorated her dress, was wearing a long pine-green dress decorated exactly like a Christmas tree would be. On her head, resided a big Christmas star. While the attire should have suggested it, Draco didn't want to believe his own eyes- not until the song ended, anyway.

"Luna Lovegood?" Draco said with raised eyebrows when Blaise and his partner walked towards him.

"Oh, hello Mr. Malfoy," the Christmas tree (further on referred to as Luna Lovegood) greeted him in reply. "Nice night isn't it?"

"Luna just returned from Australia." Blaise stated, and his eyes betrayed him.

Draco was not exactly what one would call 'slow'. Especially not when it came to reading people and their actions in social situations- he gave Blaise a knowing smile, hoping that his friend was still Slytherin enough to still understand the meaning.

"I think that we should tell him," he murmured to Luna, who nodded, and Draco followed them into a room that was separated from the ballroom. On his way, Draco caught a glimpse of Pansy talking to someone tall and bulky- too bulky in his opinion, and assured himself that the young woman would be able to take care of herself. Draco sat down in an armchair, while Blaise and Luna were standing by the mantle of the fireplace.

"Well?" Draco said to break the silence that overpowered them for a moment as Blaise tried to find the right words.

"I- well, mate, we've been friends for twenty odd years. You are my best friend," Blaise paused again, "I think that Pansy should be here as well."

"She is busy at the moment," Draco said with a smirk.

Blaise gave him a questioning look, but decided to continue.

"No matter, I-we will talk to her later."

"Yes?" Draco raised his eyebrows in expectation; Blaise was usually much more skilled as an orator.

"You know that I left Daphne last year." From Blaise's flat tone it was obvious that it was not a question but a statement.

Draco nodded.

"I love Diana. She is my daughter, and you as her god-father understand, I presume." Blaise was looking at the fire, nervously playing with his robes.

"Blaise, you are not making sense, mate," Draco said honestly, and Luna tapped her foot. He knew where it was leading to, but wanted the pair to say it.

"I, well, I don't know how to…" Blaise mumbled his eyes meeting Luna's with a plea for help.

"We are married." Luna chipped in, obviously more interested in the fire than in paying attention to what either of them was saying.

"Yes, that." Blaise muttered.

"I assume that no one knows…?" Draco smirked again.

"Well, yes," Blaise replied. "I proposed to Luna last month."

"In Australia?" Draco was quite sure that Australia was the place from which Luna Lovegood owled him about the Potter/Weasley case.

"Yes," Luna said. "I had no idea that Ginny was in trouble until you owled me."

"Owled you?" Blaise seemed to be surprised; obviously, his wife did not keep him updated on her correspondence. There even was an undertone of jealousy in his voice.

"My friend, Ginevra Weasley, has been charged with attempted murder of Harry Potter, and Mr. Malfoy, as her lawyer, wanted me to testify on her behalf," Luna said slowly, looking at Blaise as she pronaunced the words, as if to imply that she was offended by his jealousy.

"Oh," Blaise cleared his throat. "Anyway, what I was trying to convey is this: Luna and I go a long way back. We met each other at zoology meeting once in California, and it was when I was with Daphne. At first we thought that it would be only a one-night thing, but we kept running into each other, and I wanted to break if it off with Daphne." Draco nodded; Blaise was referring to his daughter, Diana, and his ex-wife Daphne Greengrass whom he married soon after the War.

"Why didn't you?" Draco inquired calmly.

"She told me she was pregnant on the same night I was about to tell her about Luna and I. I couldn't leave her, mate. It was my duty to stay with her and Diana." Blaise explained, now that the secret was out he was much calmer.

"Yes, it was the right thing to do at the time," Luna murmured, look intensively at Blaise, with something that Draco though to be pride in her blue eyes.

"Daphne, however, found out that there was something, even though I have not seen Luna since the night that Diana was born. Women, they have an instinct for these things, one day she just asked me if there ever was anything between Luna and I, and I couldn't lie to her anymore. Daphne said that since we are both unhappy in the marriage, we'd get a divorce. We explained everything to Diana last year before the divorce, and after that I returned to Luna. We talked it over, and then, last month we decided to get married. We went on our honeymoon to Australia," Blaise licked his lips nervously, waiting for Draco's response who seemed mildly amused by all that.

"Congratulations," Draco said dryly, holding up his hand with one of his rare smiles. "I figured that you and Daphne would break up eventually, although I did not see this one coming."

"You don't mind, mate?" Blaise asked with honest surprise in his voice.

"Nah. Your life, your choices," Draco replied, and Luna beamed at them.

"You should probably return to your guests," he suggested meekly.

Blaise nodded, blooming with happiness walked towards the door.

"A word, Mr. Malfoy?" Luna peeped. "I would like to talk to you about Ginny." She added for Blaise's benefit.

"Of course," Draco nodded, and Blaise, taking in the appearance of his wife, walked out of the room to give them some privacy.

Draco and Luna seated themselves in two armchairs near the fire, and Draco transfigured a candle into a dictaphone.

"I hope you don't mind, Mrs. Zabini," Draco smirked, and Luna gave him a knowing smile. "Testimony of Luna Lovegood, December 29th."

"Would you say that you are a close friend of Ginevra Weasley?" Draco proceeded to ask the first question.

"We were best friends while in school, but we drifted apart after the War," Luna responded, choosing her words carefully. "My opinions were different than the ones of her husband, and Ginny might or might not have agreed with them, but she did not show it."

"Were you in contact with the couple despite your differences?" Draco continued.

"Yes, Ginny and I remained friends, although we were not often seen in public together."

"What do you think was her reason for stabbing her ex-husband?"

"I thought that she was unhappy," Luna said slowly, and paused before she continued. "The difference in opinions, for I assume that she did not agree with him on variety of issues, was the first 'wet rock'. From there, the gap between them only deepened. Ginny was more open-minded than Harry. And she was under pressure coming from all sides; I think that she just snapped."

"Pressure?"

"Of course," Luna nodded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "She was the wife of Harry Potter. Everyone expected from her to tolerate him, well, everything. Everyone expected her to be a 'good' wife, to love him, forgive him, to let him overtake her personality. Ginny wasn't like that though. I always thought Ginny to be an independent witch- since the day I knew her."

A thought occurred to Draco who praised himself that he could read between the lines, "Could either of them have a love affair on the side?"

"I doubt it." Luna's reply was prompt. "Harry didn't have the time or moral span to do it, and Ginny did not care enough to spite him like that."

"Do you know of any abuse coming from his side?" Draco asked, bringing them back on topic.

"No. As I said, the only thing that I could blame for this is the 'abyss' that stretched between them. I honestly don't know what could have irked Ginny this much; what pushed her over the edge," Luna was looking behind Draco, clearly lost in thoughts that might or might not have been centered around her friend.

"How would you define the character of Ginny Weasley?"

"Independent. Brave. She is the kind of person who would fight for what she believes in, and she is reckless and noble enough to sacrifice herself in progress. It seems that she has done exactly that this time," the last sentence, as it escaped Luna's lips, was almost inaudible.

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Zabini," Draco smirked again, and pocketed the dictaphone.

"Any time, Mr. Malfoy," Luna replied, before floating at Draco's arm out of the small room into the ballroom where she was almost immediately taken over by her husband. Draco needed a drink.


It was 1st of January, and Draco was once again on the morning ferry to Azkaban. He was almost becoming comfortable with the cold, wet air of the sea. He leaned against the railing, and breathed in the cold air that was refreshing if little else.

After taking to Luna and Blaise Zabini, the story of Ginevra Weasley fell in place like a mosaic. He clearly remembered what the War was like; how she and the others fought against the Dark Lord and his followers. After the War, the restoration was just as rough. Draco imagined that after Potter the Great defeated the Dark Lord, he victoriously returned to his old girlfriend, expecting everything to be like it was before. He has his doubts that Ginny went by 'forgive and forget' and took him back right away, it would be very unlike her- eventually, though, she must have yielded. Whether she was persuaded by her family or friends or Potter himself was lost to Draco, but he assumed that it was a combination of the three. Harry Potter loved her, Draco thought sarcastically; of course there was no other option! He recalled a blurry memory of what happened to Hermione Granger in her fourth year when Rita Skeeter published that article about her and Potter's assumed romantic affiliations. If that happened to Hermione who was just friends with Potter what could have happened to Ginny Weasley had she refused him? What would happen to her now if, in the unlikely event, she walked free? Draco did not underestimate mob psychology; they would tear her apart.

Blaise's words rung in Draco's ears: "I couldn't leave her, mate. It was my duty to stay with her and Diana."

Draco snorted. Blaise couldn't leave his girlfriend because she was expecting, yet he did not love her. Moreover, he was in love with another woman at the same time. Draco had always assumed as much, and he was not surprised when Blaise and Daphne called the quits almost two years ago.

He assumed that she married Potter for a reason very similar to why Blaise did not leave Daphne. It was not that she loved him. She might have, like Fleur said, loved him at the beginning, but not anymore. It was what everyone expected from her, and she had to oblige. Draco knew how duty felt. He had spent quite sometime in company of this concept and he knew it back to front, horizontally and vertically, even diagonally. He understood the concept better than anyone else. Duty. His own name had been forever dirtied because of duty. His mother slipped into a state of depression that almost killed her because they had to carry out their duty. His father died because of one foolish mistake of his youth, because he promised duty to the wrong side, and Malfoys did not run away from their duties. Now, everyone considered him immoral, even evil, and he knew that they were watching him- waiting for him to slip, to make the mistake that would presumably land him in Azkaban for good.. Draco could relate to Ginny's deposition better than others; he's had the taste of duty first hand. He knew exactly how it felt to do something one did not want, but had to anyway, because it was expected, because it was needed, required. She simply snapped. Something that he could not blame her for; he saw his own Mother attack and hurl curse after curse on his aunt Bellatrix who brought the tedious duty upon their family through her insanity. Yes, he could definitely relate to the case of Ginevra Molly Weasley.

The ferry hit the shore, and Draco once again submitted the Weasley fake wand at the security desk. He inwardly snorted, if this was their security like during the war, it was no wander that Bella escaped. He was only surprised that she waited so long before breaking free.

"Hello, Malfoy," Ginny's bright voice greeted him as he entered the cell. She seemed more relaxed, as much as one could be in Azkaban, than before.

"Ms. Weasley," he replied politely, setting down his briefcase.

"The trial is tomorrow," Draco said, not quite sure how treat her.

"Yes, I know," Ginny stated cheerily.

"What are you going to testify to?" Draco asked slowly, looking for a sign of insanity in her eyes, and again, found none.

"I shall say that it was an outburst of bottled up emotions and formally apologize," Ginny replied calmly.

Progress. From declaring herself guilty they progressed into claiming innocence.

"I talked to Fleur Weasley and Luna Z-Lovegood," Draco said.

"Yes, I know," Ginny nodded again. "My brother Bill stopped by two days ago. I am quite surprised that you did not work during the holidays. I would expect something more diligent from a Malfoy."She added with a grin that could almost be described as teasing or playful.

"I was busy," Draco replied evasively; his thoughts would not pursue the meaning of that smile- or the beauty of it.

"Of course," Ginny gave him a knowing smile.

"They will testify on your behalf," Draco added after a while, avoiding any thought concerning his client that could be carried out if they were in different positions.

Ginny nodded, and Draco was almost certain that he saw the kiss of satisfaction on her face. Could it be that she was surprised? That she did not expect her friends to help her? Again, he felt a pang of pity but the much stronger feeling of admiration soon overpowered it.

"You are wearing the same robes as last time. That is very uncharacteristic for a Malfoy," she commented, her brown eyes flying over his tall form. "I would not assume that you lost all your wealth during the War."

Draco, feeling sort of uncomfortable, hid his hands in his pockets. His fingers touched upon something cold, and brown wrapping paper revealed a silver bracelet with a small diamond triangle embedded in it.

"That's a very nice bracelet," he heard from his client. " I am sure that the lady who you bought it for will like it."

"Actually," Draco made his decision within seconds- or maybe it was not even a decision, maybe he planned it all along, "it's for you."

"Me?" Ginny repeated with a genuine surprise.

"Yes," Draco felt a sudden need to explain it. "I went to buy Christmas presents for Mother and a friend, and I thought of you. Here," he quickly placed it on her wrist, "it's yours."

Ginny's eyes told it all; she had not expected anything like this. Draco was clear on how he felt about the slim woman whose wrist was so paper-like when he touched it; somehow he did not pity her. He admired her instead. Many in her place would break down and cried, or show some sort of enhanced emotion when given a Christmas present from their former enemy in such a bad situation, but not Ginny. She was so much stronger than anyone whom he knew; so much more noble, and he could not help himself but praise her for it. He found himself wondering why in the world such a noble intelligent and strong being would break down and stab Harry freaking Potter. She must have known better! He had to win this case; it was his responsibility that her soul would not be sucked out by a dementor.

"Wow, Malfoy, thanks," she muttered, looking at him from under her long eyelashes.

"Don't mention it," Draco replied, finding his shoes suddenly very interesting. "So, tomorrow, we must be the victors."

"Yes, we do," Ginny said, flashing him a smile. "And we will, I have not done anything major."

Draco chose not to reply. He did not want to rob her of the little bit of hope that she had left.


I know that I need a SPaG beta, but since I do not have one, do try to understand. The end (especially the D/G in the cell part) did not fully meet my standards, and I promise to edit it tomorrow (possibly?), but once again, I consider updating more important than not updating. In the next chapter: the actual trail! I have not decided whether it is going to be a short trial or a long one, but we'll see. Thanks for reading!