Standard Disclaimer: The characters within this text belong to J.K. Rowling, with the soul exception of Marigold Malfoy.
Please be responsible and review. I absolutely live for reviews, and as of 5:11PM on April 6th, I've only had 14 on this story. Help me out here, folks.
Draco glared at the grandfather clock. He had eventually retired to his fathers lounge and was nursing a fresh mug of cocoa while sitting at the bar. McGonagall was stretched out on the bar's dusty surface and yawning.
"She's your lobster," the cat explained drunkenly. She moved her front paws together in an awkward fashion, then frowned. "Take a memo! If you don't have opposable thumbs, you can't make the little pinchy fingers that make that metaphor work."
Draco cast a skeptical glare at the cat.
"You always have to be a problem, don't you?" The cat said belligerently. "With everybody else it's tra-la-la wave of the wand and everyone's happy again. The two of you can't just take my advice. No, that would be much too simple! Let us mock Minnie and her wiseness! Is wiseness a word? Oh, dear, I think someone's spiked my cocoa!"
"You haven't had any cocoa," Draco said peevishly.
"Then quite obviously someone spiked your cocoa and I drank some while you were in the bathroom," the feline said with an air of discovery.
"That's disgusting!" He exclaimed as he pushed the mug away from himself.
"Why is that disgusting?"
"You lick your own..."
"And yet, reputable scientists agree my mouth is much cleaner than yours."
He rolled his eyes.
"Besides," McGonagall reasoned. "If you're going to get good and pissed, peppermint schnapps mixed with cocoa is not acceptable."
"I'm taking advice from a professor-turned-cat on how to get appropriately plastered?"
"I read Cosmo," the cat established her expertise. "Peppermint schnapps and cocoa is one of the girliest drinks around. For Pete's sakes man, it's called a Snuggler!"
"What business is it of yours?" He bellowed.
"Be a man!" Hissed the cat.
"Fine," Draco grabbed a random bottle from the bar and stalked out. He was unsure where he was going, but he didn't really care so long as it was a woman-free zone.
He wound up in his own bedroom. Ginny was in with Marigold, and he was pretty sure she was going to stay there. After quite a few gulps of the unidentified liquor he looked at the label. There, in extremely blurry letters was the word "Gin."
"How desperately appropriate," he muttered before drifting off into alcohol induced slumber.
When Ginny woke, it was still dark. She rubbed her eyes groggily and looked over at Marigold, who was awake and dressed.
"Good morning, Aunt Ginny," Marigold said as she went about the room, straightening her dolls, putting crayons back in their boxes and picking up toys which had been left on the floor. "Papa likes things to be in order when we have breakfast."
"When do you usually have breakfast?"
"A little while after I wake up. Amelia will be in with breakfast soon."
"Amelia?"
"Amelia the Nanny. You'd better leave if you're here in secret."
Ginny smiled as she got out of bed and stretched. Marigold was amazingly astute. "How long have you had a nanny?"
"Only since we've been living here," Marigold answered. "Three or four weeks, I think. Before that Papa took care of me himself."
"Is he going to have breakfast with you?"
"Probably not. If he's going to eat with me, he's usually here when I wake up. Say hello to him for me."
"If I see him," Ginny hedged. She was more confused than ever about where things stood between her and Draco.
"You will," Marigold assured her as she made the bed. "He's rather taken with you, you know."
Ginny opened her mouth to deny it, then realized she didn't know exactly what Draco felt about her. Marigold looked at her, expecting a response.
"I'd better go."
Ginny's was cold by the time she entered. She supposed that was the down side of living in a castle. It got incredibly drafty. She undressed quickly and slipped into real clothes rather than pajamas for the first time in days. She was just about to brush her teeth when she noticed a pair of feet lurking behind one of the armchairs by the fireplace.
"Draco?" she asked incredulously. Upon his lack of reply, she padded over to further assess the situation. "Shit." Her cause for alarm was duly apparent. First, Draco was sprawled face down on the floor in a state of utter unconsciousness. Second, she'd just stepped on a bit of broken glass.
She cleared the shards of glass away from around him and then knelt down beside him. He didn't respond, though she said his name several times. Groaning, she rolled him over, carefully making sure not to roll him onto any bits of glass.
She bent down close to his face and put her cheek near his mouth. Warm breath caressed her face, alerting her to the fact that he was still breathing.
"Draco?" She lifted her head away from his, and pushed at his cheek gently with her hand. "Draco, wake up."
A pair of bleary silver eyes looked out at her from half opened eyelids. He winced, then began to push himself up.
"Maybe you shouldn't do that," she cautioned, putting a hand to his chest. "Try taking it a little more slowly."
He intended to sit up and tell her that he didn't need her silly advice, that he was completely fine. In his defense, he did manage the sitting up part. Quite unfortunately, when he opened his mouth to release a witty little comeback, the only thing that came out was yesterday's dinner. Most unfortunate of all was it's landing place.
Ginny glared at him. "Want me to help you to the toilet or shall you just vomit on me again?"
Wise enough to know not to argue with a woman who was covered in his vomit, he didn't say anything at all. He placed his clean hand into hers, and she pulled him off the floor.
Please be responsible and review. I absolutely live for reviews, and as of 5:11PM on April 6th, I've only had 14 on this story. Help me out here, folks.
Draco glared at the grandfather clock. He had eventually retired to his fathers lounge and was nursing a fresh mug of cocoa while sitting at the bar. McGonagall was stretched out on the bar's dusty surface and yawning.
"She's your lobster," the cat explained drunkenly. She moved her front paws together in an awkward fashion, then frowned. "Take a memo! If you don't have opposable thumbs, you can't make the little pinchy fingers that make that metaphor work."
Draco cast a skeptical glare at the cat.
"You always have to be a problem, don't you?" The cat said belligerently. "With everybody else it's tra-la-la wave of the wand and everyone's happy again. The two of you can't just take my advice. No, that would be much too simple! Let us mock Minnie and her wiseness! Is wiseness a word? Oh, dear, I think someone's spiked my cocoa!"
"You haven't had any cocoa," Draco said peevishly.
"Then quite obviously someone spiked your cocoa and I drank some while you were in the bathroom," the feline said with an air of discovery.
"That's disgusting!" He exclaimed as he pushed the mug away from himself.
"Why is that disgusting?"
"You lick your own..."
"And yet, reputable scientists agree my mouth is much cleaner than yours."
He rolled his eyes.
"Besides," McGonagall reasoned. "If you're going to get good and pissed, peppermint schnapps mixed with cocoa is not acceptable."
"I'm taking advice from a professor-turned-cat on how to get appropriately plastered?"
"I read Cosmo," the cat established her expertise. "Peppermint schnapps and cocoa is one of the girliest drinks around. For Pete's sakes man, it's called a Snuggler!"
"What business is it of yours?" He bellowed.
"Be a man!" Hissed the cat.
"Fine," Draco grabbed a random bottle from the bar and stalked out. He was unsure where he was going, but he didn't really care so long as it was a woman-free zone.
He wound up in his own bedroom. Ginny was in with Marigold, and he was pretty sure she was going to stay there. After quite a few gulps of the unidentified liquor he looked at the label. There, in extremely blurry letters was the word "Gin."
"How desperately appropriate," he muttered before drifting off into alcohol induced slumber.
When Ginny woke, it was still dark. She rubbed her eyes groggily and looked over at Marigold, who was awake and dressed.
"Good morning, Aunt Ginny," Marigold said as she went about the room, straightening her dolls, putting crayons back in their boxes and picking up toys which had been left on the floor. "Papa likes things to be in order when we have breakfast."
"When do you usually have breakfast?"
"A little while after I wake up. Amelia will be in with breakfast soon."
"Amelia?"
"Amelia the Nanny. You'd better leave if you're here in secret."
Ginny smiled as she got out of bed and stretched. Marigold was amazingly astute. "How long have you had a nanny?"
"Only since we've been living here," Marigold answered. "Three or four weeks, I think. Before that Papa took care of me himself."
"Is he going to have breakfast with you?"
"Probably not. If he's going to eat with me, he's usually here when I wake up. Say hello to him for me."
"If I see him," Ginny hedged. She was more confused than ever about where things stood between her and Draco.
"You will," Marigold assured her as she made the bed. "He's rather taken with you, you know."
Ginny opened her mouth to deny it, then realized she didn't know exactly what Draco felt about her. Marigold looked at her, expecting a response.
"I'd better go."
Ginny's was cold by the time she entered. She supposed that was the down side of living in a castle. It got incredibly drafty. She undressed quickly and slipped into real clothes rather than pajamas for the first time in days. She was just about to brush her teeth when she noticed a pair of feet lurking behind one of the armchairs by the fireplace.
"Draco?" she asked incredulously. Upon his lack of reply, she padded over to further assess the situation. "Shit." Her cause for alarm was duly apparent. First, Draco was sprawled face down on the floor in a state of utter unconsciousness. Second, she'd just stepped on a bit of broken glass.
She cleared the shards of glass away from around him and then knelt down beside him. He didn't respond, though she said his name several times. Groaning, she rolled him over, carefully making sure not to roll him onto any bits of glass.
She bent down close to his face and put her cheek near his mouth. Warm breath caressed her face, alerting her to the fact that he was still breathing.
"Draco?" She lifted her head away from his, and pushed at his cheek gently with her hand. "Draco, wake up."
A pair of bleary silver eyes looked out at her from half opened eyelids. He winced, then began to push himself up.
"Maybe you shouldn't do that," she cautioned, putting a hand to his chest. "Try taking it a little more slowly."
He intended to sit up and tell her that he didn't need her silly advice, that he was completely fine. In his defense, he did manage the sitting up part. Quite unfortunately, when he opened his mouth to release a witty little comeback, the only thing that came out was yesterday's dinner. Most unfortunate of all was it's landing place.
Ginny glared at him. "Want me to help you to the toilet or shall you just vomit on me again?"
Wise enough to know not to argue with a woman who was covered in his vomit, he didn't say anything at all. He placed his clean hand into hers, and she pulled him off the floor.