Chapter Five

"How are you this afternoon, Hermione?" Ginny asked brightly. Hermione gave her a forced smile and the same answer as always.

"I've been better."

"Would you like some tea or coffee?" she offered. Hermione shook her head.

"No, thanks. But we're still on for Saturday, right?"

"Certainly," Ginny smiled. "And Ron's going to be there as well." Hermione's normally dull cinnamon eyes lit up.

"Ron?" Ginny nodded, and Hermione rewarded her with a genuinely pleased smile. "Oh, how lovely!"

"He's looking forward to seeing you, as well. Mum's also inviting Fred and Remus." Something sparked behind Hermione's eyes, giving Ginny the first inklings of the old Hermione she hadn't seen in a long time.

"How is Remus?"

"He's good. Surprisingly well, considering that he's a werewolf who's actually made it well into his forties."

"It's not uncommon for a werewolf to outlive their predicted life expectancy. It happens quite frequently." Ginny blinked; after not seeing the old Hermione for almost two years, it was quite a shock to the system to have her rear her bushy head twice in less than a minute. Perhaps getting Hermione to come Saturday will be more beneficial to her than I thought.

"I wasn't aware of that," Ginny lied, shaking her head in mock confusion. Maybe if she played dumb, Hermione would revert back to her know-it-all self and continue on in this vein.

"You would be, if you'd read over your Defense Against the Dark Arts text more often," she pointed out sourly, pursing her lips. Ginny had to fight to hold her laughter in.

"You remember that I was never very good at that particular subject- that was Harry's area of expertise." She smiled, and Hermione grinned.

"Yes, well. Neville was horrible as well, until we formed the DA. After that, he grew tremendously in that area." She smiled, and Ginny felt warmth flood over her. This was the first time in all of their sessions that Hermione had said her husband's name without bursting into tears. This was what made therapy worthwhile – helping people heal.

"Trust me, I remember," Ginny laughed.

"Actually, there was something I wanted to share with you," Hermione said hesitantly. Ginny waited patiently. "Alice asked me yesterday when her Daddy was coming home."

"And what did you tell her?"

"I told her that he wasn't coming home, and that he had gone to be with the angels who watched over her every day to keep her safe. I didn't even feel like crying, Ginny! It was the most amazing feeling."

"That is a huge step in the right direction," she said, beaming at her friend. "It's okay to keep going with your life. That doesn't mean that you have to forget Neville in the process, either. Excellent, Hermione! That's wonderful news!" Hermione blushed under her friend's praise.

"I guess I just wasn't as stressed out this week," she said meekly, trying to downplay it.

"Stress isn't always what happens to us, Hermione. It's more of how we choose to deal with those things." Hermione stared at her with something akin to awe.

"You never fail to amaze me," she said, shaking her head. "It's no wonder you and Harry had such a perfect relationship. After the Muggles he had to live with, he needed someone like you, who would keep their cool in just about any situation, and listen to him the way he needed it." Ginny felt the heat rising to her cheeks.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Hermione's praise meant a lot to Ginny – she'd always looked up to Hermione, and had been secretly devastated to see how her husband's death had affected her. Of course, she'd been going through the same thing, so she understood completely. After their hour was over, Ginny walked Hermione to her Secretary's desk. "Have a good day, and I'll see you on Saturday." Hermione hugged her friend, then left.

"Why did that patient get a hug, when I didn't?" an amused voice drawled. Ginny turned in surprise to see Draco standing behind her, lounging against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. "Is she paying you more?"

"Very funny," she said, refusing to smile. "Did you leave something in my office?" Yeah, he thought. My common sense.

"No, I was just speaking to your secretary," Ginny shot Violet a questioning look. "And she said that this is the time you usually break for lunch."

"Was there something else you needed to discuss?" she tried to sound calm – she didn't want to have to give up her lunch hour; it was the only time she had all day to herself, and she used it for much needed relaxation time.

"No," he said, arching an eyebrow at her. He could sense her hurry and wondered at it. "I was going to ask if you'd care to have lunch with me." Her surprise registered on her face before she could stop it, and he felt the warmth of satisfaction. He'd gotten a response out of her again. What he couldn't figure out was what his motives were in doing so – was he just doing it to provoke her? Yes, he decided. She'd become colder than he used to be, if that was humanly possible.

"Lunch with you?" she stammered. He nodded.

"You do eat, don't you?"

"Yes, I just don't usually have anything to do with my patients outside of their sessions," she said, recovering quickly.

"You do with Longbottom, don't you? I just saw her leave." She was vaguely impressed that he'd remembered Hermione's last name.

"That's different; she and I knew each other long before she became my patient."

"Well, you and I have known each other for a long time, too," he said, his eyes glittering mischievously. She gave him a small frown.

"Yes, but Hermione and I were friends, whereas you and I were not."

"Isn't there some sort of saying about putting your past behind you?" he asked, mirroring her frown.

"You're not going to give up on this anytime soon, are you?" she asked, ignoring her secretary's interested looks. He shook his head.

"No, I'm not." She threw her hands up in exasperation. So I can still get under her skin – excellent.

"Fine, I'll have lunch with you." She turned towards the stairs and paused when he didn't move to follow her. "Aren't you coming?"

"Potter, I'm not going to eat inside this wretched place on a day like today," he said, nicking his head towards the window. Ginny looked outside and saw the brilliant sunshine – it had been a lovely, mild week so far. She sighed and squared her shoulders resolutely.

"Where to, then?" He grinned at her. It wasn't until she was seated in a booth at the Three Broomsticks that she began to wonder what he was up to. She looked over her menu briefly, then replaced it on the table, and folded her hands in her lap. When she looked up at him, he was watching her. "Is there a reason you wanted to see me?"

"Other than for the pleasure of your company?" She nodded curtly, hardly believing that his words were sincere. "No."

"Is that so," she murmured, putting her elbow on the table. She rested her chin on her fist and raised an eyebrow at him. "And why would my company be pleasurable to you all of a sudden?"

"I just thought it might be nice for you to share a meal with a charming man for once," he said, smirking at her. Despite her reservations, she gave him a small smile. "Since you're around loonies all day, I thought it might be more pleasant to spend some time with someone who's in their right mind."

"In case you haven't noticed, Draco," she said silkily. "You have become one of those loonies." He grinned.

"I'm a loony, then?" He nodded to himself in silent congratulations for making her smile.

"Certifiable." She smiled and looked up as the waitress approached their table. "A pumpkin juice and the fruit bowl for me, please." He eyed her curiously, then turned his eyes to the waitress as well, who looked surprised to see him.

"The usual." She nodded and hurried off. Ginny raised an eyebrow at him.

"I get the feeling that this is a frequent haunt of yours."

"Is this the beginning of a conversation, or a free session?"

"There's no such thing as a free session," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"Really," he murmured. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "So. What do you do for fun?"

"I spend time with my daughter." She nodded her thanks to the waitress as she sat a glass of iced pumpkin juice in front of her. The woman hurried off, shooting furtive glances at Draco as she went. Ginny turned interested eyes to him. "Is there a reason she keeps looking at you as though you're a hippogriff on a rampage?"

"She's an ex lover," he said nonchalantly, taking a drink from the mug in front of him. He waited for her gasp of surprise, but none came. She just nodded.

"That would explain it. Bad breakup, I suppose?"

"As if there were any other kind of breakup," he said sounding highly amused.

"Touché," she said, shaking her head as she smiled. She took a drink of her juice and leaned back in the booth, closing her eyes for a moment. She moved her head around slowly, trying to ease some of the tension in her neck. When she opened her eyes, she found him staring intently at her. "Is something wrong?"

"I was just wondering how you manage all of the stress that's heaped on you several hours a day. Do you see a therapist as well?"

"The therapist with a therapist," she mused, smiling again. Draco grinned before he could stop himself. Her smiles were becoming addictive; it was fun to think he could help create them. "No. I suppose you could say that my mother is my therapist."

"What about patient confidentiality?"

"I don't discuss my patients with anyone else," she said firmly. "I speak to my mother about my own shortcomings."

"Shortcomings?" he drawled softly. He rested his elbows on the table. "I find it hard to believe that you have any shortcomings."

"As charming as that sounds, it isn't true. Everyone has shortcomings. Whether or not we keep them well hidden is the issue."

"How true," he said, eyeing her thoughtfully. "And if I may I ask, what do you think your shortcomings might be?"

"I'm familiar enough with my own shortcomings to name them, if that's what you're asking," she said, sitting her glass on the table. "But I see no reason to bore you with them."

"I asked, didn't I? I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want you to bore me with them."

"I find it interesting that you're asking about my negative aspects," she said, sounding amused.

"I find it interesting that you keep steering the conversation away from yourself," he pointed out.

"Fair enough. Yes, I do have a habit of doing that. I suppose my clinical nature crosses over into my everyday life, so to speak."

"I can see where that might happen. But you still haven't answered my question."

"Oh, alright," she said, waving her hand. She turned her eyes towards the ceiling and bit her lip as she thought. "I can be rather vague at times." She didn't meet his eyes. If she did, she knew she would burst out laughing. She could almost feel his frustration.

"I would never have guessed," he said dryly. "You don't seem the type of person who has any faults. At least, not on the surface. Your life seems perfect right now, with the exception of the whole war issue."

"The state of your life is nothing more than a reflection of your state of mind," she said, looking up as their food came. He blinked at her, and ignored his food as the waitress walked away, still shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

"That's a very poetic statement," he said, his voice belying his admiration. She shrugged and spread a napkin gently across her lap.

"It's the truth. A scatterbrained person isn't going to lead a neat and tidy life. I just tend to like a bit more order than most people do, because it's comforting to be predictable."

"You're a control freak," he said, picking up his fork. She arched an eyebrow.

"If you say so."

"If I say so? You just said so yourself. I only put it into layman's terms."

"Alright, let's say I am a control freak, for the sake of argument," she said, picking up her own fork. "Isn't that a boon in my line of work?"

"A boon, but a burden as well," he said, chewing thoughtfully before he spoke again. "You said yourself that your work habits carry over into your personal life. That could be a hindrance in some aspects."

"Yes, it can be, and is," she said, lifting a piece of apple to her lips. Without really meaning to, he watched her teeth sink into the fruit. A tingling sensation began in his chest, and it frightened him. He turned his eyes guiltily back to his own food and forced himself to concentrate.

"I must tell you, I find you very ... for lack of a better word, intriguing." She looked up, silent questions in her eyes. "You are a walking conundrum."

"How so?"

"You provide a service that helps people heal, correct?"

"I like to think so."

"But you haven't begun the healing process yourself."

"I don't think you know enough about me to make that observation," she said with forced politeness.

"The hell I don't," he said softly. "Have you been on a single date since Potter died?" Her eyes welled up with tears of fury, and she removed the napkin from her lap. She dropped it on the table and stood.

"It was very nice having lunch with you, Mister Malfoy," she said, her hands trembling. "But I'm afraid I have a great deal of work to do." With that, she turned on her heel and left.

Back inside the sanctity of her office, she burst into tears. How dare he? How dare he say anything about Harry, when he hadn't even known him? She reached for the box of tissues on her desk and dabbed at her eyes with one. She closed her eyes and forced herself to take several deep, calming breaths. When her heart rate had almost returned to normal, she pulled open one of her desk drawers.

Inside a small golden frame was a photograph of her once perfect little family. Harry was holding a smiling Lily on his shoulders, and had his arm wrapped around a laughing Ginny. Three of the happiest faces she'd ever seen smiled back up at her, and the Harry in the picture leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on her cheek. She shoved the photograph back inside her drawer and closed it quickly as someone knocked. She wiped her eyes one final time and replaced the tissue box.

"Come in," she called, pulling out some parchment and two quills. She didn't look up as the door opened – her head was still muddled by the photo. She rarely took it out to look at it; it was just a comfort to know that Harry was only an arm's reach away whenever she needed to see him.

"I didn't mean to offend you," his voice was soft and gentle, and it surprised Ginny so much that she dropped her quill.

"It's quite alright," she said, regaining her composure, and bending over to fetch the quill. "Embarrassing, really. I can usually control my impulses a bit better than that."

"Perhaps you'll allow me to take you out to lunch again tomorrow, as a second chance?"

"A second chance at what, exactly?"

"Intelligent conversation, without me antagonizing you." She arched an eyebrow and couldn't help the smile that sprung to her lips.

"Is that humanly possible?"

"It will be difficult, but I think I can manage," he said, fighting his own grin. He didn't know why he should feel the need to apologize to her; Draco Malfoy never apologized to anyone. He'd certainly never told Natasha that he was sorry for anything. All he knew was that the moment she'd stormed off, he'd regretted what he'd said.

"Is intelligent conversation that hard to come by in your neck of the woods, that you would attempt it with a Weasley?"

"Potter," he said gently. Then, "Not that that's any better, of course."

"Of course not," she said, biting her lip to prevent her laughter. He was really trying, but she didn't know why. She wasn't going to question it to death; it was nice to have friends, even if they came from the unlikeliest of places.

There was another knock on her door, and it opened slightly. Draco blinked in surprise at his own mother, who was staring at him. He finally shook the clouds out of his head and helped her into the large plush chair before turning back to Ginny.

"Tomorrow then. I'll see you at home, Mother." Narcissa nodded and smiled indulgently at him, and waited for him to close the door before turning curious eyes to Ginny.

"Would it be too much to ask you what he was talking about?" Narcissa asked politely.

"Not at all," she said, smiling brightly. "He invited me to lunch tomorrow afternoon." Narcissa didn't look at all surprised.

"And did you accept?"

"Yes," she hesitated. "Does that upset you?"

"Hardly, my dear," the older lady graced her with a lovely smile that she'd never seen before. "I'm rather glad that he's attempting to make friends finally. He keeps himself locked up inside the Manor all day with that horrid woman, and it gets quite tiring, actually."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ginny said, shaking her head sympathetically. "So you aren't fond of Natasha, then?" The older lady's eyes widened slightly.

"He told you her name?"

"Yes," she said, realizing she was treading on cautious ground. She had to be careful not to reveal anything he'd told her.

"That's very interesting," she said thoughtfully. "And no, I'm not fond of her at all. That young lady wouldn't know proper etiquette if it smacked her upside the head." Ginny stifled a laugh.

"Well, perhaps we should begin our session," Ginny suggested, picking up her notes from their last session. She reviewed them quickly, then looked back up at Narcissa. "Is there anything in particular you want to start off with?"

"I had another dream," she said, almost shyly.

"Yes? Was it the same one you told me about last time?"

"Yes," she said, gazing at a spot on the wall somewhere behind Ginny. "And it was lovely."

"This man that you keep dreaming about – is he still living?" Narcissa nodded hesitantly. "Do you know where he lives?" Another nod. "Might I suggest that you contact him and ask him to tea?"

"That's not a proper thing for a lady to do. If he asked me, on the other hand, I'd be happy to accept."

"Mrs. Malfoy," she said, leaning forward slightly. "We can't leave all of the work up to Fate – she's sorely overworked. Sometimes she needs a little push. I see nothing improper about you asking an old friend over for tea."

"How did you know he's an old friend?" she asked, her eyes registering her surprise.

"You said something about it in one of our earlier sessions," she said gently. The truth was that she had a good inkling of who Narcissa was referring to, but refused to name names for fear of embarrassing the older woman.

"Well, perhaps I will. It's an idea that certainly merits more thought, at any rate."

"Are you hesitating because you think your friends will frown on him?"

"Oh, no," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "It's not them I'm worried about. I could really care less what those mindless automatons think of me, or my family. It's Draco I'm worried about."

"I'm sure he wouldn't object. From what I understand, the two of you are very close. I'm sure that as long as you're happy, he'll be happy for you."

"He is actually rather close to this man, actually. It's not so much that I'm worried about whether or not he'd approve."

"You're more worried about his relationship with this man changing?"

"Yes," she said, nodding. "How is it that you know what I'm thinking without me having to articulate it?"

"Educated guesses," Ginny said, smiling.

"I have missed his company," she said, sounding faraway again. An idea suddenly struck Ginny.

"Are you very familiar with Blaise Zabini?" she asked. Narcissa looked surprised, but nodded.

"Her parents and I went to school together."

"I'd like to invite you to my home for tea on Saturday, then," she said. Narcissa looked confused. "Blaise is going to be there and I believe she'd like to have all of her friends and family present."

"Well, that would be lovely, then. Would it be alright if I brought Draco with me? I very seldom go anywhere without him present." Ginny highly doubted that Draco would even want to look at Harry's former home, let alone set foot on the property, but she nodded anyway.

"That would be perfectly fine. And Natasha is more than welcome as well." Narcissa frowned.

"I had rather hoped that I might exclude her just this once. It would be nice to be able to speak to my son without having an attention hog in the background."

"Well, that's fine, too. Whatever makes you comfortable. I'm sure you're probably already familiar with my home at Number 12 Grimmauld Place." Narcissa's eyes widened.

"That's-"

"Yes. When Sirius died, it went to Harry, and when Harry died, it came to me."

"Is it still connected to the floo network?"

"Yes. Harry had it reconnected just before the war ended. He couldn't stand apparating everywhere, because it prevented our daughter from accompanying him."

"Your late husband sounds like he was a remarkable man. I can't tell you how sorry I am that my husband..." her voice faded, and Ginny gave her a sad smile.

"It's not your fault. You were not the one who killed him, and even if you had been there, you couldn't have helped anything. Please don't carry guilt around over that, I beg of you. I have never thought to blame you, and I know Harry wouldn't, either."

"Hope is the companion of power and the mother of success; for those of us who hope strongest have within us the gift of miracles," Narcissa recited softly. Ginny smiled, touched.

"That was incredibly beautiful. Who said it?"

"A muggle by the name of Sydney Bremer. I came across it in a book one day, but I don't think I truly realized its meaning until this moment."

"I'm very flattered that you shared it with me. I love hearing inspirational quotes like that."

"You are an inspiration yourself, child," she said, without a trace of condescension in her voice. "To be able to truly forgive someone for a crime so atrocious takes more than mettle. It takes heart as well."

"Perhaps I've no right to forgive at all," she mused quietly. "I have no right to judge anyone any more than the next person."

"You've every right. Your husband was stolen from you, and your daughter lost her father. You have more right than anyone else I know to pass judgement, especially on those who caused it to happen."

"Fate has an uncanny knack for putting you back into your place when you've outgrown your breeches." Narcissa chuckled, and Ginny felt a surge of warmth. It was the first time she'd heard such a happy sound escape the woman's lips.

"Well, I hope I'm not inflating your breeches when I say that you have helped me more than you could ever know. I feel almost like I'm a totally different woman than the one who walked into this office so long ago. I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me."

"It isn't I who's done the work, Mrs. Malfoy. You did that all on your own. You're stronger than you think."

"Be that as it may, you have repeatedly picked me up and dusted me off, and lent a willing ear. Sometimes that's all a person needs to make it through the day."

"Thank you," Ginny said, blushing. She knew how to handle everything except praise. She didn't expect it, and frankly, it made her uncomfortable. She glanced up at the clock. "It looks like it's that time again." Mrs. Malfoy stood and smiled at her.

"Until Saturday, then," she said. Ginny nodded, feeling pleasantly expectant about Saturday. She was going to invite Narcissa's 'dream man' and give fate that little push that it needed. She opened the door and found herself standing face to face with Draco. They were so close that their noses were almost touching, and it startled the air right out of Ginny. She took a step backwards quickly and cast her eyes down.

"Why, Draco," Narcissa said pleasantly. "I thought you were going to meet me back at the Manor." He stared at Ginny for a moment, his heart beating wildly. He vaguely wondered why his stomach felt as though the bottom had dropped out of it.

"I was, Mother, but then I thought that it might be nice for us to have an afternoon alone together. Perhaps you'd like to accompany me to dinner and join me in a little light shopping?"

"That sounds lovely, darling. Oh," she said, looking at Ginny. "Mrs. Potter has invited me to her home for tea on Saturday. Would you mind very much going with me?" Draco turned interested eyes towards Ginny, who met his gaze unflinchingly. She wasn't showing anything other than polite interest, as was her habit to do.

"Oh? And where exactly is home?" Suddenly allowing Narcissa to invite Draco seemed like a bad idea.

"Number 12 Grimmauld Place. It's a home that's been in my family for ages. Apparently when my cousin died, he left it to Harry, who was his Godson?" she looked at Ginny for confirmation.

"You are absolutely correct."

"And when Harry passed, naturally it fell to Mrs. Potter."

"Naturally," Draco said coolly, his silver eyes going cold.

"You needn't feel pressured to come," Ginny said quickly. "I will understand perfectly if you don't wish to, for obvious reasons."

"Nonsense," he said, his face unreadable. "My mother has asked me to escort her, and so I shall. Shall we be on our way, Mother?" He extended an elbow, and she placed her hand gently on his arm.

"Good day, Mrs. Potter."

"Good afternoon," Ginny said, nodding politely. She closed the door behind them and pressed a trembling hand to her forehead. What was she thinking, playing Cupid like this? Nothing good ever came of matchmaking; she remembered that well enough from trying to push Ron and Hermione together.

At any rate, it couldn't be helped now. She'd had her big idea and opened her even bigger mouth, and things were locked into place. All she had to do was invite Narcissa's male friend, and hope for the best.