Author's Note: Zoe! Nancy! Thanks for reviewing… (knew you would at least, sistah deah) Erm… if your name is Penelope…which I'm sure it IS, then of course you get Percy in my story! ;) Okay- Here's where the story starts to move along a little bit! Woohoo!

            One month later, the cream colored invitations had been written out in the sapphire blue of the Malfoy crest, sealed, and sent. The ballroom had been dressed in all of its finery, and Draco had tried on robe, after robe, after robe, until his mother decided on the perfect one. Men were required to wear dress robes, women gowns. ("They're SO much more flattering," his mother had exclaimed.)

            Draco had to admit that he was grateful for all of the etiquette lessons that he'd been forced to take when he was younger- so many important witches and wizards would be present, that Draco would need to use proper behavior. Besides, he suspected that his mother wanted to set him up with the daughter of some prominent family, and he wouldn't want to offend them by rudely declining- he ought to be able to refuse graciously. After all, he was a Malfoy, and had a certain reputation to uphold.

            The evening of the salon was clear and cool, and fancy carriages, carrying guests from their apparation points to the doors of the Manor, were rolling gently along the drive. Draco watched 'his' guests from a fourth-floor balcony, before his mother called him.

            "Draco! Come down here and greet your guests!" He sighed, wished himself luck, smoothed back his silky blonde hair, and sauntered down the stairs.

            His mother, in a beautiful gown made of emerald silk, was standing by the door, chatting sociably with the Minister of Magic.

            "Ah! There's the lad!" Fudge exclaimed, beaming at Draco. Draco smiled back coldly. The man had always been after the family's money, but while his father had dealt with him icily and only when need be, Narcissa Malfoy wasn't sharp enough to realize that Cornelius Fudge was only smarming up to her for her fortune.

            "Glad you could make it, Minister," Draco's smooth voice covered his contempt as he waved the Minister into the ballroom.

            He didn't know how long he stood there, greeting people as they came, but it felt like an eternity. It was all the same thing- "Why, thank you sir! Ma'am, you look so lovely; this way please"- until the Weasleys showed up. Percy had arrived pompously with his fiancée, Penelope Clearwater, separate from the family. The rest of them, however, crowded into the doorway, making a blur of red in a sea of black overcoats and cloaks. Harry Potter, of course, had accompanied them, and had brought his friend Hermione Granger as his guest. Draco sneered them through the door, fond of none of them.

            What caught his eye, however, was the youngest Weasley- Ginny, that was her name. How old was she now? 19? 18? Somewhere around there. It wasn't so much her looks which drew his eye to her (although she did stand out in a coffee-colored satin dress, with her hair swept up gracefully) as it was her attitude. The doorman had flung the large carved doors of the Manor open just as ceremoniously as he had for any of the other guests, but instead of grandly striding through, Ginny stopped, smiled, and thanked the man before continuing. The doorman, startled, nodded in reply and closed the doors before a draft could blow in. Draco almost laughed at the look on the doorman's face, but really had a hard time holding it in when Herman, their butler, attempted to take her coat. He was impeccably dressed, of course, (all of the Malfoys' help was) and Draco understood that for someone not used to such affairs, it might be easy to mistake him for a guest. Still, Herman had a considerable load of coats draped over one arm, and Ginny, having seen one of the maids hanging them in a large closet off the foyer, simply took a few and hung them up herself before rejoining her family.

            After Ginny hung up the coats, (on the most beautiful polished wooden hangers) she quickly shuffled back to her family, trying not to trip on her long skirt. The Malfoys were standing at the entrance to the ballroom, graciously receiving their guests. Ginny lagged behind her brother (only Ron had come) and parents, gaping at the grand marble staircase which curved up six stories, each with an elegant balcony overlooking the huge foyer.

            "Well well, Ms. Weasley, so pleased you to have you here tonight," Ginny heard a sneering voice, and looked up to see Draco Malfoy, her brother's school enemy and the cause of the party looking down at her solemnly. No, not solemn, his blue-grey eyes were laughing. At what? She thought irritably.

            "Only too…happy to be here, Mister Malfoy," she snapped, and turned swiftly to drag her eyes away from those ocean-colored ones. She would NOT let him spoil this experience for her.

            Ginny gasped as she entered the ballroom. If she thought the carriage ride and the foyer were marvelous, then the ballroom was simply heaven. Easily as large, or larger, than the Great Hall at Hogwarts, the massive room was lit brightly by dozens of twinkling chandeliers. Velvet curtains, in rich golden tones, pooled gracefully beneath the gigantic windows on which they draped.

            And they call this a manor? Ginny thought, More like palace…If this is a manor, then I'm Cleopatra!

            Someone appeared at her elbow. It was Ron, looking flushed and irritated.

            "Hey Gin- what did Malfoy say to you? You didn't look so happy."

            "Oh, it was nothing Ron, I-"

            "Because if he insulted you, I swear I'll bash his head in- I don't care if it is his freaking birthday, I'll push him off his fourth-floor bal-"

            "Ron! They probably have secret service here or something!"

            "Well, listen, I'm going over there with Hermione, okay? If he bothers you again, you just-"

            "Go Ron!" Ginny laughed, and pushed him away gently.

            She looked around the room (if it could be called that) and recognized many prominent figures, famous athletes, the Minister of Magic, and lots of well-to-do witches and wizards. Ginny looked down at her plain brown dress, and hoped that the burn on the right side of the bodice wasn't too noticeable- she'd been fixing a rip (the dress was secondhand) and Ron had knocked over her candle. It didn't show too much if she kept that arm down…

            This whole…party was a surreal experience for her. Never had she thought that her family would be considered "high society". Never had she imagined that she'd be invited to the Malfoy Manor- once the headquarters of the Dark Lord, now hosting the most extravagant party to be seen in years. She was a little unnerved by the whole deal, and excused herself from Penelope and Percy, who had been introducing her to some senior Ministry officials.

            Ginny approached the long table of wine and appetizers, looking at all of the fancy and mouth-watering food with wide eyes. Most of this she couldn't even name-she decided to be safe, and grabbed a handful of mixed nuts from a large crystal bowl.

            Draco watched the youngest Weasley walk into the ballroom, stop, look around, and gaze up in awe at the ceiling. He smirked proudly, knowing the Weasleys had never experienced anything like this. He greeted a few more guests, and finally, his mother laid a hand on his arm.

            "Draco darling, it's time to go in. Let's mingle a bit, and then we can start the celebration." Draco smiled at her, offered her his arm, and ushered her into the ballroom, where they were immediately swamped by adoring Ministry members trying to get on the good side of the Malfoy family. He suffered through the painfully dull conversations before he spotted Ginny Weasley again. She was standing by her brother and some other people, bashfully smoothing her dress. He saw her look around again, with wide eyes, then excuse herself and head for the food tables.

            "Excuse me Mother, Minister," Draco interrupted. "but I must go introduce myself to some of our less privileged guests," He locked eyes with the Minister of Magic, who had brought his mother champagne, and was yet again telling her how ravishing she looked. Draco saw his jovial smile falter, as he received the lethal Malfoy glare, and politely excused himself.

            "Keep your grubby hands off my mother and her money," Draco muttered through gritted teeth as he wove his way towards the food.