Author's note: Not much to say at the moment, other than to thank Elspeth for converting the files to html. If you haven't already, go join the When All is Said and Done group at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/WAiSaD If you'd like the recipe for zabaglione, you've only to ask...
Hands came down on her shoulders, and Hermione sighed. She'd been pouring over a pile of parchments that had been sitting in her inbox. It appeared that in order to get time off for a June wedding, she'd have to do more than her fair share of the work. Hundreds of reports were coming in reporting suspected Death Eaters. It was like the witch hunts they'd read about in school. Little old ladies were turning their neighbors in for reasons such as "gardens too much," "didn't care for my scones," and her personal favorite: "seems a bit swishy." Ministry policy dictated that every report be investigated. As one of the more senior aurors, it was her job to sort the reports, assigning those she deemed harmless to the rookies and those she found suspicious to those higher up in the agency. If filling out paperwork were all she had to do, it probably wouldn't have been such an arduous task. Unfortunately, she was doing the paperwork while closing her own cases.
The case in front of her wasn't typical, but it didn't worry her over much either. The suspect, Devon Quince, wasn't a new one. Twelve complaints had been filed against Mr. Quince in the last two weeks alone. Due to the fact that the complainants were all single women roughly the same age as Quince, and they were all of the "is unfriendly," and "keeps to himself" variety, she suspected it wasn't much more than a neighborhood full of slighted women. It had happened more than once. She'd send a copy to the hags in the filing department, who would alphabetize them by the name of the wizard in question. Cases deemed highly suspicious were copied once more, and sent to the office of the Minister.
"Stop and have dinner," Harry suggested.
"Do shut up," Hermione barked. Harry dropped his hands and made for the door. "Wait, I'm sorry, I'm acting shrewish."
"You're under a great deal of pressure," Harry corrected.
"No, I'm being a shrew. I've spent the last month worrying about Ginny and Ron and work and the wedding, worrying about everything in the world except for you. That's the last thing I want to do."
"I understand-"
"But I don't want you to understand. I want you to be angry. I want you to yell and scream at me and do anything to make me put you first. The only thing you need to understand is that I'm the luckiest creature in the galaxy, because not only am I marrying the great Harry Potter, but I really and truly love him, too."
"Then let's get take-away curry. We'll rent one of those sappy movies you're so fond of and I'll attempt to pass the time by making the moves on you."
"Amhed's and 'the Princess Bride?'" She asked hopefully.
"Sounds delightful."
"So, did you... erm... 'service his broomstick' as it were?"
"Minnie, that's vulgar," Ginny scolded her as she watched the dishes do themselves.
"You did, didn't you? Somehow I thought you'd hold out a bit longer." McGonagall did a figure-eight around Ginny's legs. "May I have a treat?"
"No, you've been crude, and I'm trying to discourage that kind of behavior. Curiosity did kill the cat, Min."
"Fine. Then I'm not telling you what we talked about at brunch."
"I'm not interested."
"Your brother being incessantly surly is involved..." McGonagall said in what she hoped was an enticing manner.
"You've already told me that. I imagine you yelled at the waiter, speculated about my sex life, and generally were as bothersome as you're being now."
"Damn you!" The cat yelled. "How exactly am I supposed to live vicariously through someone as tight-lipped as you?"
"Sod off," Ginny told her in a cheery, sing-song manner before dropping a handful of kibble into the cat dish.
"All I'm saying is that sooner or later I'm going to find out. If you tell me now, I promise not to be evil and vindictive later," the feline cajoled. "I'm sure you're dying for someone to tell all about it."
"You're probably right. I'll have to owl Glin."
"You're sick, Virginia, really and truly sick."
Ginny's smile grew. "I know."
"Urg. What time is it?"
"Seven at night," Glin smiled. "What day is it?"
"Wednesday. Don't act all smug about it. We're going to kill each other if we keep this up."
Glin sat bolt upright. "Shit. I've got to get going."
"The threat of death isn't that imminent, Glin," he said as he pushed her back down. "I'm sure we're safe as long as we take water breaks and-"
"Not that," she said, pushing him away. "I'm s'posed to put in an appearance at the Electric Voodoo Draperies show."
"Friend of the band?"
"According to the media, I am. Off the record, I can't stand the little bastards. They're being lauded as original for playing music that was cutting edge with muggles 20 years ago. Like no wizard has ever head of Bowie."
"Why're you going then?"
"I know the owner, this shady guy named Mark-"
"A shady guy named Mark? Isn't that a rather odd name for a shady fellow?"
"Well, no one names their kid anticipating them becoming shady, Ron. Anyway, Mark always makes sure to sneak me out when things get rough."
"A charming man, really," Ron said sarcastically.
"He also doesn't charge me or my guests." Ron raised an eyebrow. "What? I'm good publicity. And Mark and I used to date."
"I'm going."
"It's a bit early to be doing the jealous boyfriend thing, Ron," she said pointedly. He opened his mouth and she cut him off. "I can see it's pointless to argue about this with you. It's a dance club, so we'll want to muggle up. Let's hit my apartment, I've got some clothes you can borrow." At Ron's frightened glance, she added," Not drag, Ron. Friends have left stuff over tons of times."
"Somehow that doesn't make me feel any better," he said as she pulled him through the fireplace.
Glin's flat was well-furnished, and not entirely unlike his, except for the bit of feminine flair she'd added. It had a better view, too, he noticed with a wince. Glin pulled him into the bedroom, and began tossing clothes onto the bed and barking orders at him.
"Try to tuck as much of your hair as you can into that bowler hat," she dictated. "If you really want to keep us a secret, it wont do for us to be seen together. We'll make up something about becoming friends or something if we have to, but it's best to avoid the situation all together. Now, pull those leather pants on, then throw the purple silk shirt on."
Glin turned her attention to her own ensemble, selecting an exceedingly short leatherette skirt, and a sheer flowered silk blouse. High-heeled red sandals finished the look. "Ready, Ron?"
Ron looked at her helplessly. "I don't think they fit."
"They'll fit. You're wearing them backwards."
"Damn leather trousers."
Hermione snuggled closer to Harry. "I love this movie. Cary Elwes is so dreamy."
"Dreamier than me?"
"No one's dreamier than you, darling." She kissed him on the cheek. "So when are you going to put the moves on me?"
"I am putting the moves on you. I'm just being subtle about it. You'll notice my arm is draped across your shoulders..."
"Don't suppose you could speed things up a bit?"
"And miss the end of the movie?" He scoffed.
"I already know how it ends," she told him as she pulled him down on top of her.
"Really?" He kissed the palm of her hand.
"Mhmm... We live happily ever after."
Ginny spent the next few days doing what was, in McGonagall's opinion, an inordinate amount of time cleaning. For her part, Minnie had run rapidly from room to room with no apparent reason, nervously licking her back all the while. "Must you move everything?"
"It's ridiculous that we've lived in this mess for so long. It's a wonder I ever have clean clothes."
"It's perfectly fine. Or it was, until you moved everything," the cat sulked.
"Be quiet, or I'll send you to Ron's tonight," Ginny said crossly.
"Why don't I just stay here," the cat suggested hopefully.
"Because I'm having company."
"None of your business." Ginny found herself smiling again. With the small exception of her exchanges with the cat, it seemed she was always finding herself smiling a big doofy grin.
"Actually, if I am once again being horribly uprooted, it's my business."
"Minnie, must you always be cantankerous?"
"I'm a talking cat. What exactly do you expect me to be?" McGonagall asked her.
"I don't honestly know. Hop in your carrier. Remus'll be by any minute now."
Draco stepped through the fireplace, and surveyed the flat. It was much cleaner than it had been last time he'd been there, and was noticeably without cat. "Gin, you here?"
Ginny walked into the living room, stirring a bowl with her wand. "You're early. I haven't had time to do my hair or set up the table or-"
"Your hair looks fine, and I can conjure the table up in a moment. Put that bowl down and let me have a look at you."
"I can't. I have to keep whisking it."
"What is it?"
"Zabaglione. It's an Italian custard made with wine," Ginny explained. He'd served Persian, so she'd figured she had better fix something classy.
"Served with fresh berries. I know. What kind?" He honestly wasn't interested in what kind of berry. The air in the room was full of tension, and he knew that inane banter wasn't going to solve the problem. Unfortunately, he didn't think Ginny would be comfortable with him licking the custard off-
"You'll see. It's a surprise." Ginny walked back into the kitchen, still whisking. "Make yourself at home. Pour yourself a drink, if you like."
Draco conjured a table and chairs before sitting down on the sofa. Ginny was humming in the kitchen, and he took a moment to look about the room. The furniture was comfortably over-stuffed, though not exactly high-end. A hideously tacky afgan was thrown over the back of an armchair, probably something made by a grandmother or spinster aunt. Mismatched candlesticks decorated the mantle, along with pictures of family and friends.
Plates began to float out from the kitchen, and Ginny wasn't far behind. "We're having meatloaf. I know it's not what you're used to, but I'm not exactly a chef," she apologized.
"It smells wonderful," he reassured her.
Dinner was awkward, with forced small talk and long bouts of uncomfortable silence. Draco cleared the table and Ginny brought out dessert. The zabaglione was poured over raspberries, blueberries and strawberries, as he had expected. He took a bite, savoring the sweet taste of wine, mixed with the tarter taste of the fruit. "It's wonderful."
"Good. I was worried I'd ruined it," she admitted.
"It's pretty fool proof, as long as you've got a good double boiler." They finished dessert in silence.
"Well then..." Ginny prompted, wondering what exactly was supposed to happen now.
"Oh, sod it." Draco magicked the table away and pulled her down onto the couch. "Why didn't you come by this week."
"It's only been three days. I had to go to work and clean, and deal with McGonagall," she explained.
"She ruined all of my shoes," he told her.
"Oh no," Ginny said through a fit of giggles. "She did that to Ron once when I made her stay at his flat."
"So you find this kind of behavior amusing?" He asked.
"Sorry!" Ginny shrieked as she laughed so hard she fell off the sofa.
"Stop that," he scolded her as he reached down to help her up. The only problem was that he began laughing, and she pulled him down with her. "You, Miss Weasley, are going to have to pay for that."
"How?"
He began rather methodically by kissing her neck. Her heart was beating fast, and he could feel the blood pumping through the artery beneath his lips. Her giggling ceased, and she began to run her hands up and down his back. Placing soft, slow kisses, he traveled up the column of her throat and met her lips. A moan escaped his throat as her tongue slipped under his. Surprising even himself, he pulled back.
"We have to stop."
"Why?" She tried to pull him back down to her.
"Because, I have to go home sometime tonight, and I don't want to make love to you if I won't be able to hold you afterwards."
"Then get off me before I attempt to seduce you," Ginny told him.
"Would you?" He queried, before thinking better of it. "Don't answer that." He stood up. "I'd better go. It seems I have almost no self control when I'm around you."
She kissed him lightly on the cheek, murmuring goodbye.
"Before I go, I want to give you something. I know it's a little bit soon, but it caught my eye." He placed a strangely familiar velvet box in her hands.
"How did you know?" Her eyes went wide.
"I can't claim to be that brilliant on my own. Someone owled me a business card. Let me put it on you." He opened the box.
"I can't accept-"
"Yes you can. Money's only Money, Ginny. I have more of it than most, and can throw it about as I see fit. Now lift up your hair so it won't get caught in the clasp."
Ginny acquiesced, and Draco slipped the thin chain about her neck. He couldn't resist placing a kiss on the nape of her neck before turning her around. "It looks as though it were made for you." Glin looked up at him, her eyes adoring. "Don't look at me like that, or I'll never leave."
Her arms went about him. "I wish you wouldn't."
"Me too. But I have to. Perhaps you could stay this weekend at the manor?"
"I'll try to clear things from my schedule."
He kissed her softly on the temple before stepping through the fireplace. "Goodbye, la belle de mon coeur."
Hands came down on her shoulders, and Hermione sighed. She'd been pouring over a pile of parchments that had been sitting in her inbox. It appeared that in order to get time off for a June wedding, she'd have to do more than her fair share of the work. Hundreds of reports were coming in reporting suspected Death Eaters. It was like the witch hunts they'd read about in school. Little old ladies were turning their neighbors in for reasons such as "gardens too much," "didn't care for my scones," and her personal favorite: "seems a bit swishy." Ministry policy dictated that every report be investigated. As one of the more senior aurors, it was her job to sort the reports, assigning those she deemed harmless to the rookies and those she found suspicious to those higher up in the agency. If filling out paperwork were all she had to do, it probably wouldn't have been such an arduous task. Unfortunately, she was doing the paperwork while closing her own cases.
The case in front of her wasn't typical, but it didn't worry her over much either. The suspect, Devon Quince, wasn't a new one. Twelve complaints had been filed against Mr. Quince in the last two weeks alone. Due to the fact that the complainants were all single women roughly the same age as Quince, and they were all of the "is unfriendly," and "keeps to himself" variety, she suspected it wasn't much more than a neighborhood full of slighted women. It had happened more than once. She'd send a copy to the hags in the filing department, who would alphabetize them by the name of the wizard in question. Cases deemed highly suspicious were copied once more, and sent to the office of the Minister.
"Stop and have dinner," Harry suggested.
"Do shut up," Hermione barked. Harry dropped his hands and made for the door. "Wait, I'm sorry, I'm acting shrewish."
"You're under a great deal of pressure," Harry corrected.
"No, I'm being a shrew. I've spent the last month worrying about Ginny and Ron and work and the wedding, worrying about everything in the world except for you. That's the last thing I want to do."
"I understand-"
"But I don't want you to understand. I want you to be angry. I want you to yell and scream at me and do anything to make me put you first. The only thing you need to understand is that I'm the luckiest creature in the galaxy, because not only am I marrying the great Harry Potter, but I really and truly love him, too."
"Then let's get take-away curry. We'll rent one of those sappy movies you're so fond of and I'll attempt to pass the time by making the moves on you."
"Amhed's and 'the Princess Bride?'" She asked hopefully.
"Sounds delightful."
"So, did you... erm... 'service his broomstick' as it were?"
"Minnie, that's vulgar," Ginny scolded her as she watched the dishes do themselves.
"You did, didn't you? Somehow I thought you'd hold out a bit longer." McGonagall did a figure-eight around Ginny's legs. "May I have a treat?"
"No, you've been crude, and I'm trying to discourage that kind of behavior. Curiosity did kill the cat, Min."
"Fine. Then I'm not telling you what we talked about at brunch."
"I'm not interested."
"Your brother being incessantly surly is involved..." McGonagall said in what she hoped was an enticing manner.
"You've already told me that. I imagine you yelled at the waiter, speculated about my sex life, and generally were as bothersome as you're being now."
"Damn you!" The cat yelled. "How exactly am I supposed to live vicariously through someone as tight-lipped as you?"
"Sod off," Ginny told her in a cheery, sing-song manner before dropping a handful of kibble into the cat dish.
"All I'm saying is that sooner or later I'm going to find out. If you tell me now, I promise not to be evil and vindictive later," the feline cajoled. "I'm sure you're dying for someone to tell all about it."
"You're probably right. I'll have to owl Glin."
"You're sick, Virginia, really and truly sick."
Ginny's smile grew. "I know."
"Urg. What time is it?"
"Seven at night," Glin smiled. "What day is it?"
"Wednesday. Don't act all smug about it. We're going to kill each other if we keep this up."
Glin sat bolt upright. "Shit. I've got to get going."
"The threat of death isn't that imminent, Glin," he said as he pushed her back down. "I'm sure we're safe as long as we take water breaks and-"
"Not that," she said, pushing him away. "I'm s'posed to put in an appearance at the Electric Voodoo Draperies show."
"Friend of the band?"
"According to the media, I am. Off the record, I can't stand the little bastards. They're being lauded as original for playing music that was cutting edge with muggles 20 years ago. Like no wizard has ever head of Bowie."
"Why're you going then?"
"I know the owner, this shady guy named Mark-"
"A shady guy named Mark? Isn't that a rather odd name for a shady fellow?"
"Well, no one names their kid anticipating them becoming shady, Ron. Anyway, Mark always makes sure to sneak me out when things get rough."
"A charming man, really," Ron said sarcastically.
"He also doesn't charge me or my guests." Ron raised an eyebrow. "What? I'm good publicity. And Mark and I used to date."
"I'm going."
"It's a bit early to be doing the jealous boyfriend thing, Ron," she said pointedly. He opened his mouth and she cut him off. "I can see it's pointless to argue about this with you. It's a dance club, so we'll want to muggle up. Let's hit my apartment, I've got some clothes you can borrow." At Ron's frightened glance, she added," Not drag, Ron. Friends have left stuff over tons of times."
"Somehow that doesn't make me feel any better," he said as she pulled him through the fireplace.
Glin's flat was well-furnished, and not entirely unlike his, except for the bit of feminine flair she'd added. It had a better view, too, he noticed with a wince. Glin pulled him into the bedroom, and began tossing clothes onto the bed and barking orders at him.
"Try to tuck as much of your hair as you can into that bowler hat," she dictated. "If you really want to keep us a secret, it wont do for us to be seen together. We'll make up something about becoming friends or something if we have to, but it's best to avoid the situation all together. Now, pull those leather pants on, then throw the purple silk shirt on."
Glin turned her attention to her own ensemble, selecting an exceedingly short leatherette skirt, and a sheer flowered silk blouse. High-heeled red sandals finished the look. "Ready, Ron?"
Ron looked at her helplessly. "I don't think they fit."
"They'll fit. You're wearing them backwards."
"Damn leather trousers."
Hermione snuggled closer to Harry. "I love this movie. Cary Elwes is so dreamy."
"Dreamier than me?"
"No one's dreamier than you, darling." She kissed him on the cheek. "So when are you going to put the moves on me?"
"I am putting the moves on you. I'm just being subtle about it. You'll notice my arm is draped across your shoulders..."
"Don't suppose you could speed things up a bit?"
"And miss the end of the movie?" He scoffed.
"I already know how it ends," she told him as she pulled him down on top of her.
"Really?" He kissed the palm of her hand.
"Mhmm... We live happily ever after."
Ginny spent the next few days doing what was, in McGonagall's opinion, an inordinate amount of time cleaning. For her part, Minnie had run rapidly from room to room with no apparent reason, nervously licking her back all the while. "Must you move everything?"
"It's ridiculous that we've lived in this mess for so long. It's a wonder I ever have clean clothes."
"It's perfectly fine. Or it was, until you moved everything," the cat sulked.
"Be quiet, or I'll send you to Ron's tonight," Ginny said crossly.
"Why don't I just stay here," the cat suggested hopefully.
"Because I'm having company."
"None of your business." Ginny found herself smiling again. With the small exception of her exchanges with the cat, it seemed she was always finding herself smiling a big doofy grin.
"Actually, if I am once again being horribly uprooted, it's my business."
"Minnie, must you always be cantankerous?"
"I'm a talking cat. What exactly do you expect me to be?" McGonagall asked her.
"I don't honestly know. Hop in your carrier. Remus'll be by any minute now."
Draco stepped through the fireplace, and surveyed the flat. It was much cleaner than it had been last time he'd been there, and was noticeably without cat. "Gin, you here?"
Ginny walked into the living room, stirring a bowl with her wand. "You're early. I haven't had time to do my hair or set up the table or-"
"Your hair looks fine, and I can conjure the table up in a moment. Put that bowl down and let me have a look at you."
"I can't. I have to keep whisking it."
"What is it?"
"Zabaglione. It's an Italian custard made with wine," Ginny explained. He'd served Persian, so she'd figured she had better fix something classy.
"Served with fresh berries. I know. What kind?" He honestly wasn't interested in what kind of berry. The air in the room was full of tension, and he knew that inane banter wasn't going to solve the problem. Unfortunately, he didn't think Ginny would be comfortable with him licking the custard off-
"You'll see. It's a surprise." Ginny walked back into the kitchen, still whisking. "Make yourself at home. Pour yourself a drink, if you like."
Draco conjured a table and chairs before sitting down on the sofa. Ginny was humming in the kitchen, and he took a moment to look about the room. The furniture was comfortably over-stuffed, though not exactly high-end. A hideously tacky afgan was thrown over the back of an armchair, probably something made by a grandmother or spinster aunt. Mismatched candlesticks decorated the mantle, along with pictures of family and friends.
Plates began to float out from the kitchen, and Ginny wasn't far behind. "We're having meatloaf. I know it's not what you're used to, but I'm not exactly a chef," she apologized.
"It smells wonderful," he reassured her.
Dinner was awkward, with forced small talk and long bouts of uncomfortable silence. Draco cleared the table and Ginny brought out dessert. The zabaglione was poured over raspberries, blueberries and strawberries, as he had expected. He took a bite, savoring the sweet taste of wine, mixed with the tarter taste of the fruit. "It's wonderful."
"Good. I was worried I'd ruined it," she admitted.
"It's pretty fool proof, as long as you've got a good double boiler." They finished dessert in silence.
"Well then..." Ginny prompted, wondering what exactly was supposed to happen now.
"Oh, sod it." Draco magicked the table away and pulled her down onto the couch. "Why didn't you come by this week."
"It's only been three days. I had to go to work and clean, and deal with McGonagall," she explained.
"She ruined all of my shoes," he told her.
"Oh no," Ginny said through a fit of giggles. "She did that to Ron once when I made her stay at his flat."
"So you find this kind of behavior amusing?" He asked.
"Sorry!" Ginny shrieked as she laughed so hard she fell off the sofa.
"Stop that," he scolded her as he reached down to help her up. The only problem was that he began laughing, and she pulled him down with her. "You, Miss Weasley, are going to have to pay for that."
"How?"
He began rather methodically by kissing her neck. Her heart was beating fast, and he could feel the blood pumping through the artery beneath his lips. Her giggling ceased, and she began to run her hands up and down his back. Placing soft, slow kisses, he traveled up the column of her throat and met her lips. A moan escaped his throat as her tongue slipped under his. Surprising even himself, he pulled back.
"We have to stop."
"Why?" She tried to pull him back down to her.
"Because, I have to go home sometime tonight, and I don't want to make love to you if I won't be able to hold you afterwards."
"Then get off me before I attempt to seduce you," Ginny told him.
"Would you?" He queried, before thinking better of it. "Don't answer that." He stood up. "I'd better go. It seems I have almost no self control when I'm around you."
She kissed him lightly on the cheek, murmuring goodbye.
"Before I go, I want to give you something. I know it's a little bit soon, but it caught my eye." He placed a strangely familiar velvet box in her hands.
"How did you know?" Her eyes went wide.
"I can't claim to be that brilliant on my own. Someone owled me a business card. Let me put it on you." He opened the box.
"I can't accept-"
"Yes you can. Money's only Money, Ginny. I have more of it than most, and can throw it about as I see fit. Now lift up your hair so it won't get caught in the clasp."
Ginny acquiesced, and Draco slipped the thin chain about her neck. He couldn't resist placing a kiss on the nape of her neck before turning her around. "It looks as though it were made for you." Glin looked up at him, her eyes adoring. "Don't look at me like that, or I'll never leave."
Her arms went about him. "I wish you wouldn't."
"Me too. But I have to. Perhaps you could stay this weekend at the manor?"
"I'll try to clear things from my schedule."
He kissed her softly on the temple before stepping through the fireplace. "Goodbye, la belle de mon coeur."