Author's Note: Yay! I'm so glad to have this story going again, and to have all of my old readers back! I can't tell you how happy it made me to see those familiar names reviewing – I love the fact that you guys are sticking with me… Anyway, I'm home sick and am going to try and pound this out before my doctor's appointment, so I don't have time to reply to all of your reviews individually like I want to… so just know that I'm thinking of you ALL!
Draco stalked off, away from Virginia, and as far away from the corner with Pansy and Tony as he could get. He surprised himself by realizing that he wasn't actually mad at Virginia. He was disappointed. He'd been perfectly civil, even nice, to her all evening, and she still despised him. Well, in her defense, the original point of tonight was to make her miserable… he sighed. Now that he'd thrown The Plan out the window, he couldn't bring himself to go back.
She had every right to mistrust him. He'd tortured her family for years – he still hated her favorite brother, Ron, and hadn't exactly been what you'd call kind to her. All the same, it was frustrating to him that she couldn't see how he'd changed.
Draco realized that he was moping, but he didn't care. This party was stupid and worthless anyway. A party for Fudge… of all people. Why don't they just stick me in a boiling vat of lard and get the torture over with right now?
"Draco darling!" And so it begins… "Draco come over here – I haven't seen you all evening. Don't you want to congratulate the Minister on his re-election?" His mother was ushering him over to where she stood – accompanied by none other than Cornelius Fudge. He groaned.
"Oh. Right. How could I have forgotten?" Trying desperately not to roll his eyes, Draco slumped over towards his mother. "Good evening, Minister," he shook hands with the dumpy old man. "Are you enjoying yourself?" Draco moved protectively closer to his mother when Fudge shot a glance at her. She looked radiant, as always.
"Oh yes, yes, indeed. Wonderful party, absolutely wonderful. Your mother was just telling me about your plans to enter the business world – how splendid. I've a number of very good contacts, I can have them drawn up for you immediately, you know."
"Oh Minister, that would be lovely!" His mother clapped her hands in glee. Draco scowled.
"While I appreciate your assistance, Minister, I believe you'll find that I have established quite a few top-notch connections myself, and your aid will not be needed." Fudge looked startled at the brusqueness of Draco's speech, and gallantly tried to recover his dignity.
"Oh, but of course. Any time, my boy, any time. You'll find that the Ministry's doors will always be open for the Malfoy family." He smirked. Draco snatched a glass of… something… off of a tray that was being carried around, and sipped it rather quickly, to keep himself from saying something rude.
Ginny stood and watched Draco walk away, with the sinking feeling that she'd just made some kind of major mistake. Oh, like I'm trying to get him to like me now…
Wait a minute. I'm not trying to get him to like me, am I? …Hoooly –
"Miss Weasley, I presume?" A shaky voice interrupted her thoughts. Ginny turned to see a tottery old man in brown plaid robes looking up at her. He had massively thick glasses, and a very thick white mustache.
"Yes?"
"Rutherford Peanickle from the Department of Distribution. Your father told me you might be looking for a post at the Ministry."
"Oh… um… as a matter of fact, I am job-hunting at the moment." Ohhh drat.
"Excellent! Let's take a seat, why don't we?" Mr. Peanickle escorted Ginny, who was nearly twice his size (which, at her height, was saying something), to a nearby settee. "Now then!" he settled himself onto the cushions, feet dangling some six inches off of the floor.
"Er… pardon my asking, sir, but… what exactly does the Department of Distribution do? I've never heard my father mention it before." Ginny immediately regretted her asking, when Rutherford Peanickle took a long, wobbly breath, and launched into an explanation about how the distribution of wizarding goods around Britain is essential to the survival of their kind, and without proper order and decorum, the entire basis of their societal structure would fall apart.
Ginny was dumbfounded. Did her father actually believe that she would want to work for this man? She could not believe this was happening to her. Not only had she screwed up things with Draco (WHY do I keep thinking that? There was nothing to screw up, and there shouldn't ever be anything to screw up for heaven's sake!), but she was apparently going to spend the evening being passed about from Ministry official to Ministry official, hearing about the virtues of each department. She was almost happy when Mr. Peanickle had to turn her over to Emilia Hoggarty for an explanation of the dealings of the Department of Clerical Works – commonly known as the 'Parchment Department'. That is to say, she was almost happy until Madame Hoggarty began speaking.
This is it. If I have to put up with another minute of this ridiculous, meaningless jabber from these –
"…and that's why it's imperative to our cause that the letterheads be printed in deep blue ink, don't you see?" Ginny blinked. She could not believe this was happening to her.
"Oh, of course. Imperative." She tried not to roll her eyes. "Will you excuse me for a moment, please?" Hastily, Ginny made her way to the refreshments table. Dinner was about to be served, but she couldn't stand it any longer. As she was weaving her way erratically through the crowd (Shake 'em off…shake 'em off…), she caught a glimpse of a very unhappy looking Draco standing next to his mother and Cornelius Fudge. I wonder what's going on with the two of them… Whatever it is, Draco does not seem very happy about it. She almost felt a twinge of pity for the boy. It had to be stressful to have one's family fall apart, and then have another man – Cornelius Fudge, of all people – move in on your mother. If that was indeed what he was doing. Perhaps it was mutual. Perhaps it was business. It really was none of her concern, but she couldn't help but feel a little bit on Draco's side. Whatever that was.
