A/N: Wow, guys. I definitely should be shot and trampled for taking so long getting this out. I sincerely apologize. My inspiration, however, has returned, so I do believe chapter seven will be out sooner than two months from now. Hopefully even within a couple of weeks. Incredibly sorry for the wait.
Disclaimer: Not mine, JK Rowling's.
Huge thanks to Elaine for beta'ing this for me. Feel better soon, darling!
Chapter Six
Tourists
Tuesday, 11 March, 2003
The next day Ginny was nervous. She hurried about her room, hair still damp from the shower she'd taken, wearing a knee-length light blue skirt and no shirt. She was having trouble deciding which one to wear . . . and how should she have her hair? How much makeup should she apply?
To be honest, she felt absolutely silly worrying about how she looked for Draco. It was all well and nice to have a good appearance – that would attract him, of course. But actually worrying? Actually hoping to impress him because she wanted his approval for her own purposes and not that of her job?
She was losing it.
Finally, at twelve thirty, Ginny settled on tying her hair back with a large satin ribbon that matched her skirt, and a simple white top. Then she had nothing to do for an hour.
She decided to read, and somehow managed to pass the time; however, she read about three pages in sixty minutes. At a quarter till two, Ginny checked her appearance one last time, approved, and left her room to hurry outside.
Having fifteen minutes to kill, she strolled along the street. Two shops down from her inn was a café, and she took a seat an outdoor table to wait. Courtesy of her Spanish-English dictionary, she ordered a cup of coffee and attempted to enjoy the lovely weather.
The combination of the coffee and warm air calmed her nerves somewhat until she only felt slightly jittery. Nonetheless, she couldn't help feeling that this time around she would somehow destroy everything she'd created last night; that she would one way or another let something slip and wouldn't be able to recover.
It was true that last night she hadn't completely worked her magic – for lack of better words – by claiming she wrote biographies for a living. It had been her own fault that she hadn't thought of a false profession beforehand, and now she cringed every time she thought of how stupid she'd been. But Draco had seemed to buy the lie, albeit mockingly. Everything had worked out in the end.
So what if she made a huge mistake today?
No use in worrying about it, she thought firmly, taking a sip of her coffee. If it happens, then I'll deal with it. I've got enough to fuss about as it is; I don't need something that hasn't happened to trouble me, too.
She was able to almost relax then, and her mind drifted to other things. How was work going in her absence? Was Creedmoore fairing without her? She knew she'd need to update him on the Malfoy situation shortly, but before she did so she wanted to research the black-haired man she'd seen with him and figure out who he was. She'd work on that later tonight, after she and Malfoy parted company.
Two o'clock trickled by. Ginny's restlessness started to escalade back to hand-wringing anxiousness. She began to glance at her watch frequently, noticing with each passing minute that he was late. She had said two o'clock, hadn't she?
By ten past she was just about panicking. He was certainly late now. Had he only agreed to meet her the night before so she would get out of the car and leave him alone? Had he no intentions of showing up at all?
At two twenty, Ginny's worries melted into anger. What kind of . . . of adult agreed to meet someone when he really planned on doing nothing of the sort? Draco Malfoy, that's what, she sulked, furiously demanding another cup of coffee at the unsuspecting waitress.
Half of Ginny – the more reasonable and optimistic half – thought maybe there was a decent explanation for his absence. It was possible he'd forgotten where her inn was – but Sebastian would certainly remember, her other half argued. Or he could've misunderstood her; maybe he thought she'd said one o'clock, or even three. He heard me, raged the annoyed part of her, he heard me loud and clear.
Leave it to Draco Malfoy to complicate her job. As if it wasn't impossible enough already. If he didn't show up, then what would she do? She had no idea where he lived. She would have an incredibly tough time trying to find him again. Stumbling upon him the first time had been simple, unadulterated luck. Fate had been with her. There was no way she could be so fortunate a second time.
Two-thirty came around, and Ginny's eyes were just about tearing up with anger. How dare he stand her up like this. If she ever set eyes on him again she would stun him in two seconds flat, throw him in a trunk, and ship his bloody arse to Azkaban. That is, if she didn't loose all control and kill him first.
In spite of her trembling fury, she remained at the café and kept her sight on the street, hoping to see his black car driving past. Clearly, regardless, she still believed there was a sliver of a chance that he would show up after all.
It was two forty-five when he finally did decide to grace her with his presence. She had just happened to be scanning the nearby pavement when he appeared, so suddenly that it was evident he'd Apparated. Pretty risky, to Apparate in a street full of Muggles, but by the look on his face he couldn't have cared less.
Ginny momentarily forgot her supreme irritation with his tardiness when she laid her eyes on him. In the sunlight he was even more attractive than she remembered. He was dressed casually – at least compared to the previous evening – in gray trousers and a black shirt. His longish blond hair flew across his forehead in the slight breeze, making Ginny wonder why God gave such a beautiful face to such an ugly person.
He hadn't spotted her yet; he slipped his hands into his pockets and began to stride by the café, looking as though he had a destination. Ginny gathered her wits about her and her anger flew back in full force.
"Draco!" she called, waving at him.
He turned his head, saw her, and gave a slight smirk. She wanted to smack him. He took a seat at her table, across from her, and seemed interested in anything but her.
"I said two o'clock," she said tightly, trying to stay calm. He didn't respond; he didn't even look at her. "It's two forty-five," she added through gritted teeth. Good God, they'd only been together for thirty seconds and already she wanted to commit a heinous murder.
At that he met her eyes nonchalantly. "So it is," he agreed, and reached for her coffee cup. She opened her mouth to stop him, but before she got a word out he was drinking from it. She wasn't quite sure how to react. What made him think they were chummy enough to share drinks? Yeah, she'd eaten his food last night, but that was different. He hadn't been sucking on the chicken that she'd eaten.
"Have the rest of it," she told him coldly, crossing her arms and looking away.
"No thank you," he replied pleasantly; damn him, he was grinning. "Coffee stains my teeth."
Then why did you drink it! she wondered crossly, but said nothing. She fumed, trying desperately to simmer down. It wouldn't help the situation if she was snappy and touchy with him from the start. If there was any chance of making Malfoy fall in love with her – or even in like, well enough that he'd follow her back to England – then it certainly wouldn't be because of her anger. In fact, being openly furious would only increase failure of keeping his attentions. She would need to ensnare him by being witty, warm, and delightful.
Ha. Ha.
Ginny ordered herself to focus, and fixed on her face what she hoped was a tolerant smile. She didn't want to seem as though she'd switched moods in an instant, but she also didn't want to appear to still be aggravated. As a result she felt rather idiotic-looking, and immediately dropped the smile and pressed her lips together.
"Well," she said transitionally, "ready go to?"
Draco didn't answer; he stood wordlessly. Ginny slipped some money underneath the coffee cup before following the suit. He turned and stepped onto the pavement as she hurried beside him. Together, they walked along, so close Ginny could've grabbed his hand if she'd wanted to.
She didn't want to.
"So," Ginny said airily, glancing over at him, "where are you taking me first?"
Draco met her gaze, an eyebrow raised elegantly. Ginny was beginning to envy his grace. "Pardon?" he asked, sounding slightly surprised.
Patience, Ginny love, she thought resolutely. "You agreed to take me on a tour of Muggle Madrid," she reminded him. She nudged his arm and grinned - quite obnoxiously, if she did admit so herself. "Remember?"
He stared away for a moment, that single damned eyebrow still arched, before he relaxed it and ran his tongue over his lower lip. Ginny found her eyes attracted to his mouth, nearly stumbled off the curb, and then snapped back to attention.
He looked back at her. "I don't know Muggle Madrid," he informed her cleanly.
Ginny faced forward, trying to decide how to respond to that. Hadn't she invited him to go out so they could tour the city? She thought back to the previous evening, and though the entire night was pretty much a blur, with only a few conversation points sticking out in her mind, she was almost positive she had mentioned that she wanted to see the Muggle sites.
First he's nearly an hour late, she mused, and now he's telling me he doesn't listen to me.
Even her worst boyfriends had never been this horrible on the second date. It was safe to say that Ginny would be immensely relieved once this entire business with Malfoy and getting him back to England was over.
"All right . . ." Ginny said at last, racking her brain for something else to say. "Then I suppose we can go and ask someone where they would suggest going that's interesting. . . ."
"I thought we were getting lunch," Draco interrupted.
Food. In the two instances she'd been with him, he'd been thinking with his stomach. "No wonder you don't have any hobbies," Ginny said in a kidding manner. "You spend all your time eating and wondering when you can eat next."
The look Draco gave her was disdainful. "That's it, Weasley," he replied sadistically. "You now completely know me."
All right, the joke was bad. But did he have to be so cruel about it? Ginny narrowed her eyes and glanced away from him, speculating for the millionth time how someone could be so rude.
There was a long pause. In the silence, Ginny quickly settled on a form of action. "Well then, Draco," she said, overly bright, "since you didn't do your homework –" She poked him in the ribs, receiving a death glare in return, " - we'll go to that Muggle tourist shop over there and buy a book on spots to visit."
Draco didn't respond.
It was the same tourist shop Ginny had been in a couple of days before, but Draco dealt with the money transactions and the language barrier so it wasn't as bad. In under ten minutes they were on the move again. Ginny had the (English) tourist book open and was flipping through it, keeping up with Draco out of the corner of her eye. He took long strides and she was practically jogging to stay with him. It seemed he was trying to lose her. Then again, that wouldn't come as a shock.
"Places of interest," she read out loud, glancing up briefly to dodge an oncoming man who clearly had no intentions of getting out of her way. "Museums," she continued, "Museo del Prado - open 9 a.m. to 7 p.m., Sunday 9 . . . et cetera, et cetera . . . 'The Museo del Prado, founded as a museum of paintings and sculpture, also has important collections of drawings (more than 5,000), prints (2,000), coins and medals (around 1,000), and almost 2,000 decorative objects and works of art. Sculpture is represented by more than 700 works and by a smaller number of sculptural fragments. . . ." Ginny trailed off, looked up again, and saw that Draco was a good ten strides ahead of her. Great, people probably thought she was talking to herself. She ran to catch up. "Let's go here, Draco," she said, keeping her annoyance at bay. "I have the address for it." She paused. "Where's your car?"
Draco slowed slightly so she could keep pace with him at a mild sprint. "I don't have a car," he said shortly. "It'll be quicker to Apparate there."
Without another beat, he vanished with a loud pop. People walking by looked around, startled. Ginny stopped walking, waiting for people to stop glancing about, and let out a frustrated groan. Draco seemed to be in super-annoying mode today. How was she going to stand it?
After a couple of seconds, once she felt it was safe, Ginny Disapparated.
* * *
Spending time with Weasley in a Muggle art museum . . . that was certainly the stuff suicides were made of. Draco wondered if he would be completely sane by the end of the day.
I shouldn't have come, he thought foully. He'd assumed arriving nearly an hour late would be satisfactory – and in a way, it was; he'd brassed Ginny off quite thoroughly – but now he realized he shouldn't have come at all.
What made him think he had to see Ginny to get her off his back? He could very well just avoid her. If he kept evading her, or just kept agreeing to meet her and never show up, eventually she'd start to lose heart. In fact, by meeting her he was probably only strengthening her confidence. No matter how mad he could make her, she still wouldn't give up if she knew there was a chance she could get him to be nice to her. The only way to dash her hopes of that would be to not show up.
And yet . . . there had to have been some reason he'd come today. He wasn't that thick. He'd known there was the choice of just staying away from her. But he'd chosen to see her, and what for?
Even more pressing was the fact that if he didn't want to be here, then why didn't he just leave? He could easily Disapparate and Ginny wouldn't have a clue as to where he went. She'd be stuck.
But eventually, she'd find you, a little voice told him snidely. She found you once and she can do it again.
Draco scowled deeply. He was beginning to doubt Pansy; maybe Weasley wasn't the most incompetent Hit Witch out there. Maybe Pansy had fucked up, plain and simple.
And of course it was now his problem to deal with.
Go ahead with the original plan, he said to himself. Make yourself miserable company. Eventually she won't be able to stand it and she'll leave you alone.
Problem solved.
Or maybe not. He still had to go into this blasted museum. He stood on the steps, staring at the doors; it was surprisingly busy. People strolled in and out, some single, some coupled. A gaggle of students on a class field trip made their way inside, all chattering excitedly among the hushes of their instructors. Behind him, he felt rather than heard Ginny approach, standing only a step below him.
"Thanks for waiting," she said, sarcastically cheerful.
"Anytime," Draco replied over his shoulder.
"Well. Shall we go in?" She stepped up so she was beside him. He could feel her looking at him, but he didn't take his eyes away from the building.
"No," he answered simply.
Ginny hesitated a beat. "No?" she repeated, slightly astonished.
What made him think he had to go in there? If she wanted to see the city, then he'd show her the city. On foot. She could walk behind him (or in front of him, whichever she preferred) and take in the sites. But he didn't have to go into a museum with her. He wasn't obligated to do anything.
Draco turned his head and grinned at her startled face. "I don't want to go," he said childishly, before remembering that his grins made him look devastatingly handsome (more so than usual, of course) and dropped it quickly. He was supposed to be moody, dark, and sharply cruel if he wanted to get her to back off. "It's going to be dull," he added sullenly.
"Oh, come on," she said lightly, smiling back at him. Yet he could see her muscles tense, giving away her exasperation. "It won't be that bad. Besides, you'll have me to insult and complain to."
She grabbed his hand and started up the rest of the steps into the museum, tugging him after her. He relented and followed for one reason only – he had suddenly turned into a spineless bastard was allowing her to persuade him into it.
What am I doing? he wondered as they entered the cool air of the museum. I'm only encouraging her. I don't want to do this. I want to be at home, doing nothing, worrying about nothing . . .
But he ignored his thoughts. It could've been because he was actually looking forward to complaining to and insulting Weasley. After all, it was a great opportunity to get her to stop bothering him. He knew he could be unmanageable and horrible to be around; a person could only take so much foul Malfoy.
Yet that couldn't have been the reason. He couldn't have been looking forward to spending time with Ginny.
Er, Weasley.
* * *
Ten minutes into touring the museum, Draco had managed not only to complain like a whiny little girl about thirteen different times, but he'd also tried to insult Ginny on her pathetic monetary circumstances and abundance of family members about twenty times. He really was getting bad at insulting her, she found, because he reused the same material.
"You know, Draco," she said finally, pausing in the middle of an exhibit and turning to him, head tilted to one side, "you really need to find some new insult strategies. I mean, maybe if I was still thirteen you could've offended me. But I'm not, so your insults just seem kind of . . . no, really stupid."
She congratulated herself on taking the upper hand of the situation by sounding so cool and reserved. Unfortunately, Malfoy barely batted an eyelash. He smiled, almost serenely, and replied slowly, "If it truly wasn't bothering you, Weasley, you wouldn't have said anything."
Ginny sighed and resumed strolling through the exhibit, barely stopping in front of paintings or display cases. As Draco continued to make cheap shots - such as saying "Look, your family's life savings" as they passed by a display of ancient coins, or "You should become a painter, Weasley; maybe your family will make some money off your art when you die" - she tried to think of a way to change the subject. She was sure Malfoy was getting endless joy out of saying pathetically childish things to her, but she was getting irked. She couldn't let him have fun at her expense.
"You know what, Draco, I think I'm done in here," she announced suddenly, spinning on him. "Let's go to lunch, shall we?"
He shrugged lazily. "I suppose."
"Come on, let's go," she said, beckoning him towards the exit. "Do you know any good restaurants?"
"No," he answered simply.
They stepped out into the sunshine, the warm air outside contrasting vividly from the air conditioned air of the museum. Ginny felt her spirits lift at the sight of the beautiful day. If Draco wasn't willing to take her to any place specific, they could just walk around the city all day, taking in the sights. Maybe she'd suggest that during lunch.
"Then we'll just try whatever looks good then. Sound good?" she asked perkily.
He barely acknowledged that she'd spoken. Smothering a sigh, she started down the steps, seeing him follow beside and slightly behind her from the corner of her eye. Once they reached the pavement, Ginny was desperate for a subject to discuss. What was something they both could relate to?
"Have you been keeping up with the wizarding world?" Ginny asked politely.
"No."
"Why not?" She tried to make it sound like she was innocently curious, throwing a glance at him. He was staring ahead, his face stony and unreadable. When she turned to him, he noticed and caught her eyes, smirking.
"Did it ever occur to you, Weasley, that maybe I left the wizarding world for a reason?" he said, quirking an eyebrow.
Odd response. She hadn't asked him why he'd left the wizarding world, even remotely. "What reason would that be?"
"If I had wanted you to know, I would've told you already," he replied delicately.
"Oh, come on," she coaxed, trying not to grin. She knew very well why he'd left the wizarding world, but it would be amusing to force him to tell her and see what his response was. "Quit trying to be so mysterious. Contrary to popular belief, it's not a sexy trait."
"I don't need mysteriousness to be sexy," he said arrogantly. He flicked a finger across his forehead to get rid of some loose strands of hair for effect.
Ginny found a laugh escaping her at his gesture. "Right, Draco." He looked at her, his eyebrows slightly raised, as though surprised. Abruptly uncomfortable by his expression, she cleared her throat and pointed to a random restaurant. "Why don't we try there?" she suggested, and threw him a smile.
A few minutes later they were seated inside and scanning their menus. Of course, the writing was in Spanish. Ginny asked Draco, courteously with a smile, to read the entrees out loud. He shot her an aggravated look and said almost primly, "I'm not your interpreter, Weasley. Figure it out yourself."
Ginny gaped at him as he returned to his menu. "Draco, I can't read Spanish," she embellished, in case he had forgotten.
"Why did you choose to come to Spain, then, if you don't know the language?" he said calmly without looking up.
She gritted her teeth. Why, why, why, why was she charged with the single most bothersome, infuriating, cold-hearted man on the planet?
When she didn't reply, he looked up, sneering. "No, I would like an answer," he told her plainly. "Of all the places in the world, of all the English speaking countries in the world, why did you choose to come here where you don't know the language?"
Ginny thought. Good question, she realized. Her mind raced for a probable answer while other parts of her seethed. It was almost as if he purposely was trying to make her squirm. He seemed to pick the exact questions that she had to make up lies about...
Ginny suddenly thought of something with a sickening thud in her stomach. What if . . . what if Draco knew she was undercover for the Ministry?
"I - I . . . it was the farthest place away that I could afford, and I wanted to go as far as I could," she said, extremely lamely. She felt slightly sick, and very panicked, and stood up clumsily. "I need to use the toilet," she mumbled, and all but sprinted to the ladies' room.
It wasn't empty, but people were in stalls, allowing her a private moment to think. Ginny placed her hands on the counter and leaned forward, studying her pale reflection. Oh, God, what if he knows? she thought frantically. Hadn't Creedmoore mentioned that he'd evaded the Ministry eleven times already, and hadn't she asked why this time would be any different? "We don't," Creedmoore had said. But the Ministry wanted her to try anyway.
It would almost make sense if he knew. The only thing he'd seemed interested last night was her occupation, after all. He had enjoyed seeing her struggle. Now he was asking a question she couldn't answer without lying. And he had pressed the issue. It would seem, to even the most oblivious of people, that he knew what she was up to.
But then . . . it made no sense at all. If he knew the Ministry had discovered him in Spain, then why hadn't he packed up and left the country the minute he'd found out? Even if he just saw her for the first time and assumed she worked for the Ministry, then why did he show up today at all? Why would he bother to see her again?
He can't know, she told herself firmly. He wouldn't agree to seeing me a second time if he even suspected I was here to take him to jail.
Some of Ginny's alarm drained away, but she still felt edgy. A woman came out of the stall and smiled at her, and Ginny pretended to be washing her hands. Quickly, she figured out what she'd do. She would return to the table like nothing was wrong – if he seemed concerned and asked her what happened, she'd just tell the truth; she felt sick and needed to use the toilet. But she doubted he would even acknowledge that she returned to the table. Then, for the rest of their time together, she would act normally. If he knew she worked for the Ministry - which he probably doesn't, she added hopefully – he would avoid her sooner or later. For now, she would just go on the assumption he had no clue. Meanwhile, she'd be on her guard; she'd notice any small hints or signals that gave away he knew what she was doing.
Feeling somewhat stronger, she returned to the table. Draco, just as she'd envisioned, merely glanced up with a blank expression as she sat down, then lowered his eyes back to his menu. She picked up hers again and tried to concentrate on it, but she'd lost her appetite. Since she couldn't read the words anyway, she decided not to order. She felt a little awkward about not eating anything, and wished she could've brought her Spanish-English dictionary to at least order something, even if she would only peck at it – yet she'd left her pocketbook which contained the book back in her room, thinking she wouldn't need anything from it. She hadn't even brought her wand.
When the waiter came to take their food orders, Draco threw Ginny another glare. "You're not eating my food this time," he warned bluntly. "Are you sure you don't want anything?"
Ginny stared back, trying to seem just as cold. "I would love to, Draco, but unfortunately I don't know what they have here." Then she handed her menu to the waiter and smiled sweetly.
"Fine," Draco said, relaxing his glare and shrugging as the waiter left. "Starve."
Ginny contemplated him for a moment, pressing her lips together. He seemed not to notice, leaning back in his chair and surveying the restaurant. "You know, Draco," she said thoughtfully after a moment, catching his eyes, "maybe you wouldn't be so alone if you weren't such miserable company."
Both eyebrows shot up, but he grinned easily at her. "Alone?" he repeated slowly. "I'm not alone."
"Oh?" Ginny said sceptically, trying to ignore the way her cheeks felt flushed whenever he smiled like that. "Tell me about some of your mates, then."
His mood turned reflective then, and he propped his elbow up on the arm of his chair and rested his chin on his thumb, pressing his fingers to his lips. A second of silence passed and she waited patiently, half expecting him not to answer the question. Then he straightened and drawled, "They're . . . like me."
"Rich, conceited, and malicious?" she offered with a tight smile.
He returned her smile. "I never knew you thought so highly of me, Weasley."
"I only speak the truth," she said offhandedly. "I've never heard of or seen you do one nice thing for anyone."
He nodded once, soberly, agreeing with her. "I'm not a nice person," he said simply. "If you don't like it, then just leave me alone."
They held each other's gaze for a long while. Ginny felt chilled by the careless and frosty look in his eyes, wondering if maybe he was warning her. Leave me alone. If that's truly what he felt, then why had he shown up today? She pondered why, after worrying so much on whether he would come or not, she kept questioning why he had.
He did agree to, she thought. But did he want to?
It didn't really matter, though, did it? He had shown up, he was here, and he hadn't left yet. So why was she making a big deal out of nothing?
Ginny pushed her troubling thoughts away and focused on the situation at hand. "I can't leave you alone," she responded, folding her arms on the table and leaning forward. "I'm too interested in you."
"Interested?" At this, his serious expression vanished and he smiled. "More like drawn to my undeniable good looks and sex appeal."
Ginny laughed at his confidence. The way he praised himself was the one thing she found she was enjoying about him, which she viewed as kind of strange. "You don't need me to think highly of you," she said. "Your own opinions are enough to make anyone arrogant."
He lifted his glass and took a drink, raising his eyebrows and dropping them rapidly as if to say "You know it". It was the first somewhat positive thing he'd done in response to one of her light-hearted comments, and her confidence soared. Maybe they were finally getting somewhere.
"Where are we headed to next?" Ginny asked conversationally, changing subjects.
"Anything but a museum." He narrowed his eyes at her accusingly, blaming her for wasting a good half hour of his life.
She laughed again – three times in one day, she was on a roll. "No, that museum was dull, I'll give you that. I was thinking maybe we could just walk," she added casually. "You know, there's got to be some historical sites in this city. We could just wander around until we come across one we find interesting."
He was staring at her with an odd expression now. It was almost as if he was alarmed. His eyes were slightly wider than usual. "Disapparating is much quicker than walking," he stated.
"Yes, I know," she said, realizing that he didn't want to spend any more time than was necessary with her. Once again, that thought popped up – why did he come? "But it's such a nice day. And besides, I threw that tour book away."
Draco looked a bit startled. "Why?"
She shrugged. The truth was she still had it; it was right in the chair beside her. Had Draco been paying any attention, he would've seen it in her hand when they entered the restaurant. But clearly, he hadn't, and couldn't see it on the chair. Hopefully he wouldn't ever. "I don't know," she replied unthinkingly. "But since we don't know what there is to visit, we should just walk around until we find something."
"I told you I have things to do," he said sharply, looking dark. He changed moods remarkably – he'd gone from playful, to pensive, back to playful, and to furious all within fifteen minutes. "I don't really have time to walk around the entire city."
"Just for an hour or so," she told him airily. "I promise I won't take up all your precious time." She paused. "To be honest," she went on, smoothing the napkin in her lap, "I can't imagine what you're rushing home to do. I don't really get the feeling your schedule is action packed."
"Then I suppose you'll have to use your imagination a bit better," he retorted foully.
"Are you so afraid of telling me what you do?" she asked, somewhat exasperatedly.
"Afraid? No, I just don't want to tell you," he said dourly, frowning. "I don't have to tell you anything, you know, Weasley. Sometimes I think you forget that."
"No, you don't have to tell me anything about yourself," she replied stingily,
straightening her spine. "I can see quite plainly you're just a pathetic, pouty, cold man who's completely alone in the world."
"Can you see all that?" he asked, amazed, with a straight face.
He was beginning to infuriate her again. What kind of power did he possess that made him dig annoyingly under her nails so easily, and then in the next instant, he'd grin and make her heart jerk with his beauty? Whatever it is, she thought determinedly, I can handle it. I'll deal with it, and I'll do such a good job, he won't be able to help but fancy me in return.
* * *
Draco's food came, and he ate it all himself, thankful that Ginny didn't try and steal any of it. He was honestly hungry, and at the moment, easily aggravated when it came to Weasley. She would be wise not to mess with him today.
As he ate, Ginny chatted mindlessly about the wizarding world. She spoke of politics – who the new Minister of Magic was, since it had changed in the past five years – and of entertainment – the newest singing groups, especially the ones she enjoyed – and of her family – all her brothers and her parents, as well as some cousins and aunts and uncles. It was stunning, really, how she could just jump from one topic to another. To his impatience, he found himself listening. And almost anticipating what she would say next. While her family tales were lacking excitement, he discovered he was clinging on to every word she spoke of the wizarding world. He'd almost forgotten how much he missed it.
Soon, he reminded himself. Soon you'll be back in that world, and you'll be a normal citizen again.
He was reluctant to leave the restaurant, because he wasn't happy about having to walk around the whole city with her. Even the bright, warm day didn't make him feel any better about it, and then Ginny threaded her arm through his as they strolled along the pavement. He didn't pull away, but he gritted his teeth and tried to tell himself it wasn't a big issue. She could hold onto his arm if she very well wanted, but she wasn't going to get anything in return. His arm hung limply at his side and she didn't seem to mind; she almost hugged it to her as they walked ahead.
Just as in the restaurant, she talked constantly. Oddly enough, it wasn't nervous babble, either. She was speaking to him as if he were replying and holding a conversation with her. Sometimes she'd pause for a few minutes, perfectly at ease with the silence, before starting up on a new topic.
Of course, he listened to her, just as he had in the restaurant. He explained his behavior by telling himself he was simply eager to hear anything about the wizarding world, even if Weasley was telling him. But the truth was she had the type of voice and enunciation that demanded his attention. She spoke of her opinions on officials in charge of the wizarding world, describing them first, before telling her reasons for liking or not liking what they did. And everything she said was logical and intelligent.
Certainly not the prattle of an incompetent woman.
Draco found he should've have been alarmed by all of this; of Ginny's arm securely wrapped around his, of her sharp and smart comments, and most of all her sudden ease in being with him. He should've been worrying about insulting her; about making her feel inadequate and getting her to back off. But he wasn't. In fact, he was finding the afternoon almost pleasant; certainly more . . . remarkable than playing cards with Blaise in the kitchen.
Of course, he was beginning to realize his tactic was failing. He'd tried, all through the museum, to insult Ginny. And he'd learned that he'd lost his knack for it. Either his abuse back at Hogwarts had been much wittier and hurtful and he no longer possessed the talent, or it had been so childish it only stung children and that very same wit just simply didn't work with adults.
Yet another thing he should've been worried about – figuring out a way to get Ginny away from him.
He didn't feel worried in the slightest.
They walked for a while. Ginny would sometimes take a break in her stories and analysis's of people to point out something that looked interesting, but she'd never suggest they inspect it closer or go inside. She seemed content just walking and talking, even if she thought it was only to herself. After all, Draco tried to give the appearance of not listening.
Ginny finally declared she was dying of thirst, and they stopped at a vendor to buy a bottle of water. Since Draco was the one who spoke Spanish, he requested what they wanted, and naturally paid for it. They resumed their walk and Ginny twisted the top off the bottle, throwing Draco a wide smile. "Thank you," she said.
He smiled back before he realized it. Looking perfectly happy, she took his arm again and launched into a story of how her brother Percy had once done a ten-parchment essay on the earth's water supply and how Muggles were polluting it as summer extra-credit for Muggle Studies, and how her twin brothers bewitched the report to turn into liquid the moment anyone touched it again, and explained in surprising detail the colors Percy's face had turned when he went to owl it to Hogwarts and all his hard work melted right in his fingers and how horribly her mother had punished the twins.
The sun's light was starting to weaken when Draco finally began to realize how long they'd been walking. He couldn't believe it was almost sundown and he hadn't noticed the time passing by. This distressed him more than anything, and finally, worry rushed over him like a wave. He stopped moving abruptly, which made Ginny take her arm back and turn to him, looking curious.
"What's wrong?" she asked with a light smile.
"I have to go," he said curtly.
"Oh." Her smile faded. "Well, when can I see you again? Today was fun."
Fun . . . he hated how he actually agreed with her. He wasn't sure how to react, so he kept his face blank. "I'm busy for a while," he replied.
Her eyes, which had been bright for the entire afternoon, were finally starting to darken. I should Disapparate now, he thought. Disapparate and she'll never find me . . . at least not for a while. I'll have time to think, to get my act together.
But he remained.
"You said you were busy today," she reminded him, "but you still managed to spend a good four hours with me."
Ah, four hours. How could he have lost track of time so easily? What was wrong with him? If he wasn't careful, he would ruin everything . . . he would let her get too close, and ruin The Plan. So why didn't he just leave right now?
"I shouldn't have," he snapped, angry with her. "I have to leave."
She looked horrified for a moment, as though he were slipping right through her fingers. I am, he realized. She has me now, but I'm going to leave her and then avoid her. She'll have trouble finding me again, and when she does, I'll be ready for her; ready to get rid of her.
Just when he finally prepared to Disapparate, she leaped at him. That was the only way he could describe it – she closed the distance between them with a single stride and gripped both of his shoulders, pulling him to her. Then she raised herself on her toes – only a little bit, there wasn't much of a height difference between them - and pressed her mouth to his.
She kissed him.
At first, he didn't feel much – just surprised and a little panicked. But then she moved her lips, trying to get him to respond, to touch her instead of letting his arms hang there. He felt as if a wave of liquid fire had crashed into him, knocking him off balance, even though he remained completely still. Her mouth . . . warm, soft . . . her hands . . . slipping along the back of his neck, toying with his hair . . . her body . . . pressed against his, the feel of her breasts against his chest, her thighs against his thighs . . . Without thinking, he was kissing her back, gently, caressingly, his own hands rising and coming to rest on her waist. He pulled her closer to him, as close as he could manage –
And then, as suddenly as his desire had come, the panic broke through. What am I doing? he screamed in his mind. He was kissing her, that's what; he was touching her, guiding her closer, completely ruining everything he was working to get rid of. It had to stop.
With considerable effort, he lifted his face from hers and dropped his hands back to his sides. He took a step back and watched as she opened her eyes slowly, her lips still parted and moist, dazedly focusing on him.
Act casual, he ordered himself. Don't let her know she affected you. She can't know. She can't be aware she has power – any power – over you.
He took a deep breath and fixed a nonchalant grin on his face. Casual. "Cheerio," he said brightly, giving her a farewell salute. Then, before she could even register what he'd said, he Disapparated on the spot.
* * *
A/N: Whew, okay. There it is, the chapter you've all have been (dying) anticipating for, I'm sure.
Thank you tooooo:
dragongirlG (why thank you! I hope you enjoyed this date as well), Nobodysbitch (what can I say, Ginny's real quick. Ha, I doubt I would've been able to lie on the spot either. Sorry for the absolute zero Pansy bitchiness, she'll come to play more in the next chapter), Leather-Winged Angel (thank you!), sissy-6 (blah, I certainly didn't update quickly at all. This chapter took even longer! Terribly sorry, but thanks for your review!), Wow (yes, of course, Ginny will get to him even more. Otherwise, where would the plot be? Bwaha), Calendar (haha, yeah it will be a real shocker when she finds out he knows, but at least she's slightly suspecting it. And the date definitely went nothing like he expected), TrinMalfoY (sorry this one took so long! Thanks, I'm glad my "conversations" keep you entertained, that's what I'm going for. The attraction only gets serious…er. Thanks for your loooong review!), apple-eyes (I'm glad you like it! It makes it worth writing, definitely. Yeah, it would be no fun if Draco immediately fell for her, so he must take his time), Brooke Kenobi (Aw, thanks! I love reading your reviews! Hope I don't make you procrastinate again, but if I do . . . oh well! Papers suck anyway), frananddragon (haha thanks! Hope this chapter was entertaining as well!), Aejavu (of course it's healthy. He's a very likable kinda guy….kinda. Haha, thanks for the review!), Lenne Hime (thanks, I hope you all understand. And the reason this chapter took so long was because I quite honestly lost inspiration for like, a month. But it's back now, so yay!), Jade Summers (there, I updated! Took me long enough, but I did!), FlavaOftheWeek (thanks! Sorry it took so long!), AnonymousHGDV (you're quite welcome, though I'm not sure what I'm being thanked for…), Ili (Thank you! School is a massive J.Lo butt but (ha!) I'm getting around it. Greece does complicate things, but it also makes things more fun. Thanks for the review!), Vodk@ (why thank you!), Sandy Bottoms (Our friend the American stripper shall play a more important role quite shortly. Next chapter, in fact. Thanks!), Bulma Greenleaf (thanks, I try to write long chapters because I've found that people definitely like them better. School did delay me, but also writer's block…ahh! But it's all good now, thanks for the review!), Sakura1287 (haha it's almost as good as when they snog shamelessly and try to hate each other. Thank you!), VioletJersey (haha, Flamenco? I'm not sure…Ginny doesn't strike me as a dancer. But she could get drunk one night, I suppose, and do a very erotic Flamenco for Draco…hmm, the possibilities. If I ever need help in the beta area, I'll email you!), Miss Auburn (thanks!), myStiCaLYia (oh thanks! What a great review. I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get out and you were biting your nails for so long!), Static (thanks, I'm glad you found the story too!), Anon (I'll try to update regularly from now on, promise! Thank you!), Luinthoron (don't worry about taking so long to read it, cause it takes me ten times longer to update. Haha, thanks!), Lauren (I don't mind constructive criticism at all, and what you told me made me think a lot. Thanks for the great advice! You're absolutely right; I shouldn't be afraid to take chances. Thank you for taking time to tell me that. I will certainly put it to good use. Thanks again), anon (I'll try to keep it up! Thanks!).