Disclaimer: So, my name is not J.K. Rowling. Hence, not mine. Such is life...


I'm quite certain that was one of the most despicable days of my career.

I shiver just thinking about it.

Draco wraps his arms a little tighter around me. "Perhaps I should look into my heating around here, hm?"

I giggle against my better judgment. Since when did I giggle?

"I'm okay," I say aloud. "Just thinking of an incredibly awkward moment today at work is all."

"Oh?" he says, shifting. "What happened?"

"Missy Parkinson."

He appears confused, and with good reason.

"You know her?" I ask.

"Of her, yes," he responds slowly. "What was the issue?"

I sigh deeply. "I suppose she and a few mate decided to impress people with their grandiose abode that they couldn't shrink again, a Perma-flow fountain they couldn't figure out how to stop or drain, a whole crop of live pixies they didn't know what to do with..." I continue through the list as Missy herself had, pausing only slightly before adding, "Oh, and of course, the exotic muggle dancer they'd tied in the closet."

Draco's eyes widen, and I can tell he's holding in his laughter.

"It's not that funny," I mumble, even as I try to withhold my own smile. "That poor bloke was all tied up and scared to death and just sitting there, helpless, in these ridiculous-looking knickers..."

With that, Draco's laughter abruptly refuses to shush itself.

I join him, try as I might not to. "Can you imagine, though?" I say, attempting to be serious again. "All the memory charms in the world probably couldn't have quite erased the trauma of that experience for him."

"Yes, of course," says Draco, forcing down his chuckle. "He'll forever be wary of extremely gorgeous young women in packs and never fully know why."

After a pause, he adds, "No, wait. That's every bloke on the planet."

With that, he ceases all attempts to not find humor at mine and that poor bloke's expense, and I spend a good part of the afternoon laughing in his arms.


"So how long has it been since that talk?"

I take a sip of my water and ponder Ginny's question. How long have I been involved with Malfoy?

"I'm not sure, really," I reply. "A few months?"

"Wow," she says. "Serious yet?"

I look away, blushing I'm sure. "Of course not," I say, too quickly.

"When's the last time you went home?"

At all?

When the silence has gone on too long, she gives a short laugh and a shake of her head. "Girl, you're hooked," she jokes.

"No, I'm not," I claim defensively. "It's just... easier..." I trail off.

"To be there already instead of having to actually get up and leave to get there?"

I notice I refuse to meet her eyes. I'm hoping she doesn't.

She laughs again, ducking her head to meet them. Shoot. "It's okay, I understand," she says. "I'm sort of the same way with Blaise right now?"

"Really?" I say, feigning just a bit more interest than actual for sake of the subject change.

"Yeah..." she says, and I notice Ginny Weasley herself blush.

I pause long enough for her to fill the silence.

"Okay, so we're sort of... involved..." she says. "As in, really, sort of involved..."

"Descriptive, Gin," I reply. "Nicely done."

She laughs. "Well," she says, switching positions to be more in line with me. This is when she always gets really into the conversation. "We were talking the other day, and he actually opened up to me."

"Really?"

"Yeah, we just started talking about the war, and everything that happened, and he just... you know, Hermione, it really wasn't so easy on their side either."

"I know," I concede quietly. Not a thought I like to have.

"So anyway, he talked about all sorts of things, and we sort of just stayed up the whole night... talking."

"Talking?"

"Yeah. Just... talking. No snogging, just cuddling. I don't know." She shrugs. "It was nice."

"Aww, Ginny, that's sweet," I say. I surprise myself by secretly wishing Malfoy and I could do that a little more often.

"Yeah, it is," she says, shrugging again, almost shyly. "It's really nice."


"So how are my darling mate and your darling mate doing?" Draco asks as he approaches me from behind, nuzzling my neck suggestively.

I shrug him off just a bit, just because it tickles. "Well," I respond. "They seem to be actually getting rather close."

"As I've noticed," he says, running his hands along my sides. "It's about time."

"What do you mean?" I ask, turning to face him.

Kissing me, he says, "Just that it's been a while for Blaise, is all."

"A while since...?"

He shrugs, and I notice his eyes take on that guarded look I've come to know so well.

So instead of making him answer, I run my hands up his chest over his shirt. I cup my hands around his face, and I pull his face to mine. I kiss him fully, completely, as though I need him just to be able to take my very next breath.

And even as he guides me by the hand back to the confines of his room, I begin to wonder just how true that might be.


A/N: I've just realized how short this chapter is, as I'm editing this story. Sorry for that! At least the next few are already posted, right?