A/N: Woo-ee, once again, I promised and I did not deliver. I'm about a week or so over my deadline. Ehh…sorry! Chapter 11 is written, but it will probably be a while before it's ready to post (a while being a month, give or take a bit). I've been working and schooling like a mother. And even though summer is coming in about three weeks (yesssss!), I'm going to be busy most of the time, if not out of town or drum-lining, I'll be working.

Do expect updates, though! I haven't abandoned this one yet. No, not nearly.

Oodles of thanks to VioletJersey for fixing my mistakes, and to Elaine for Brit-isizing (Brit-isicing?) everything.

Chapter Ten

Too Easy

They lay out in the sun afterwards, just along the edge of the cliff, cushioned by grass and warmed by the sun overhead. Draco was beginning to feel his eyelids droop lazily; the combination of the heat and gentle roaring of the ocean was comforting him a little too much.

Vaguely, in the back of his mind, he could sense something nagging at him, begging to be heard. He was aware it was his better judgment trying to have its say, trying to warn him away from Ginny.

But he was through trying to get away from her. He would try a new approach, instead. Complying with her every request and having her fall madly in love with him. How could she resist? I'm devilishly good looking, Draco reminded himself with a slow grin.

The main thing was to keep her occupied for the next month. Continue to see her, all the while working on The Plan with Pansy and Blaise. And if it turned out he couldn't do both, then he'd just keep Ginny away from them while they worked. When the time came they could tell him everything he needed to know.

Oh, Pansy and Blaise would be mad, no doubt about that. But he'd simply remind them that they'd asked for his help, not vice versa. With him came the unpleasant – and unavoidable – baggage of the being sought by the Ministry. They'd have to accept that the only way he could contribute with the planning was to keep Ginny out of it all.

Draco turned his head and glanced at her. She was staring up at the sky, soberly lost in whatever she was thinking about.

I don't think working with them behind her back will be a problem, he thought satisfactorily. After all, he did have a way with women. Deceiving them never proved to be an issue.

"That cloud looks like a hippogriff," Ginny commented suddenly, pointing upwards.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "It looks like a mass of white," he corrected.

She clicked her tongue. "No imagination, Draco," she said disapprovingly. "No imagination whatsoever."

"I'm realistic," he said, fairly indignant. "Clouds are just random shapes made by clinging water droplets. Or, in your hippogriff's case, ice crystals."

Ginny laughed, amused. "How the hell do you know that?"

"It's an altocumulus cloud," he explained, feeling her staring at him from the corner of his eye. "They're considered middle clouds in the atmosphere; they're lower than some as well as higher than some. Hence, the ice crystals."

She was still laughing. "You're so full of crap, Draco. You're just making it up."

"I am not," he insisted, trying to remain serious. "Why would I make it up?"

"Because you're trying to impress me," she said, rolling onto her side and propping her head up with one hand to look down at him.

He was taken aback by how happy she looked . . . this would be almost too easy. "I assure you, Weasley," he replied, allowing a small grin, "my intelligence is not what will impress you. It will be a combination of all my astounding traits."

"Hmm. Spite, cruelty, maliciousness, evilness?" she ticked off.

"They all mean the same thing," he shot back calmly. "Broaden your vocabulary, Weasley."

"It's not a matter of vocabulary, Malfoy, it's a matter of you being one dimensional," she retorted.

"Are you implying," he said, staring up at her gravely, "that I have only one trait?"

"Spite, cruelty, maliciousness, or evilness. Take your pick."

"As you have clearly just witnessed," he replied delicately, "I am extremely smart. I am also amazingly funny. I am devastatingly handsome. I am −"

"Insanely modest," she finished. "But enough about you. Let's talk about me."

He released his breath slowly. "Well, if you wish," he said, feigning reluctance. "But I'm warning you now that we will both grow bored within five minutes."

"I think I've had a rather exciting life," she debated, flashing a mysterious smile.

"You're entitled to your opinion, of course," he said smoothly. Blinking against the sun, he spotted something he'd never noticed before. "You know, you have a dimple just there," he said, poking her cheek.

"Well, aren't you observant?" she answered tartly. "It's only been there, oh, I don't know, since I've known you."

She would have continued, but she was cut off by a distant voice calling Draco's name. He sat up and the two of them gazed towards the villa. They were a good distance away; the bright colors of the gardens and the white of the house was all that was visible.

"That's probably Pansy," Draco said, getting to his feet.

"Wouldn't want to know you were airing in the sun with a Weasley," Ginny said dryly.

"To be perfectly frank, yes," Draco replied, picking up his shoes and throwing the broomstick over his bare shoulder. "Come on, we'll walk."

They strolled side by side in silence for a few minutes. The grass tickled underfoot, the water dripped from his hair and trickled down his back . . . and he felt a curious sense of elation. It wasn't only the beautiful day that was making him feel lighter. It was the fact he knew how to deal with his Ministry problem. Now everything rested in his own hands. Not Pansy's, not the Ministry's, and certainly not Weasley's.

Things were finally starting to work out.

"Why are you friends with them?" Ginny asked abruptly.

"With who?"

"Draco. Don't be thick."

He shrugged. "We understand each other," he said briefly.

"Yeah? Well, I understand a rock, but I'm not friends with it."

"While it may be possible you have the IQ of a rock, I doubt you understand it," he said, a tad touchy.

"Okay, you understand each other," she prompted. "So what? Do you get along? Do you like them? It takes more than understanding, you know."

"What does?"

"Friendship, you moron."

Draco squelched the grin that was trying to break through. "We also trust each other," he said. "Trust is something I deem necessary."

"You mean you trust that Pansy won't betray you behind your back?" she asked, doubtful.

"Pansy wouldn't. Blaise, maybe," he answered.

"Ah. So you don't trust Blaise completely."

"I trust him enough," he said in an offhand tone. "Pansy's got him under her thumb, so it's safe to assume he wouldn't try anything and risk angering her."

"What type of relationship do Pansy and you have?" she frowned and he could've sworn he heard envy. Could it be she was already infatuated with him? Of course she is, he thought cockily. This definitely would be too easy. "I take it you aren't . . . together," she added tentatively, "but. . . ."

"Now you're approaching the questions I prefer not to tell you," he said, trying to sound intriguingly elusive.

That shut her up. He prayed she'd soon stop with all the inquisitions. If not, he'd have to figure out some pretty fantastic lies. And believe me, they won't be anywhere near the quality of the "biographer" lie, he thought cynically.

When they reached the pool, they found Pansy seated in one of the reclining, cushioned chairs wearing a billowy skirt down to her knees and a clinging white top that was quite see-through. On her head was a wide-brimmed straw hat and in her hand was a tall glass of something colorful accented with a miniature umbrella.

"About time," she said with calm venom. She rose and cast her eyes, brilliantly blue against the rippling water of the pool behind her, on Ginny. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take Draco away," she told her with a smile that dared argument. "We have something to discuss. Perhaps you'd like to relax out here?"

Ginny tensed, but she returned the smile warmly. "Sure. That sounds good. I'll see you both at lunch, then."

"See you then," Pansy said falsely, and took Draco's arm.

Draco left the broomstick leaning against the house before they entered. They were silent as they stepped through the door; it wasn't until they were climbing the stairs to the second level that Pansy spoke. "We're doing it now, Draco."

It was fair to say Draco was shocked. "Now?" he repeated, dropping her arm and stopping mid-stair.

"Just the final planning," she explained calmly, continuing her ascent. "We'll be doing it tonight."

Draco looked over the railing to make sure Ginny Weasley was nowhere nearby; they couldn't be too safe. Satisfied that she wasn't, he climbed the steps two at a time to catch Pansy.

"Besides," she went on, sensing he was behind her, "we need to chat, Draco. You and I."

"Where's Blaise?"

"He'll be right along," she answered. "Come on, into my room. I'll seal it so no one can overhear or accidentally walk in."

Draco could sense he was in for a lecture on the topic of Weasley and was not looking forward to it. However, it was inevitable as well as necessary. He dropped into an overstuffed light purple chair beside Pansy's fireplace and watched as she cast the appropriate spells on the door and walls.

"There," she said when she'd finished. She crossed the room and sat on her bed, cross-legged and serious. "Now. What's the situation with Weasley?" she pressed. One thing about Pansy; she got to the point.

"She found me," responded Draco directly. "She's . . . not as daft as we'd hoped."

"Perhaps," Pansy said with a slight nod. "Or perhaps you're just not covering your tracks well enough."

Draco's mouth nearly dropped open. Did she honestly think Ginny found him because of his own errors? Did she think he left a trail of bread crumbs for Weasley to follow? "Pansy, this isn't my fault," he insisted angrily.

"Then who's fault is it, Draco?" she asked with a raised eyebrow and a haughty expression. "Surely not mine?"

He scowled. It wasn't really hers, either, he realized. After all, going on the evidence she had, she'd chosen the right person for the job. Who was to know that Weasley was actually capable of such a task?

"Now, she is becoming a pest," Pansy said evenly, bringing her knee to her chest and inspecting her toenail polish. "Having her here only jeopardizes The Plan. I want you to get rid of her," she prompted casually. "We'll just have you on the run again. I know it's inconvenient," she relented loudly, knowing he was going to protest without even glancing up, "but it's the only safe alternative."

"Pansy, it's unreasonable," he argued, sitting up straighter. "If we keep Weasley around, I'll always know where she is. I'll be aware of her progress and how close she's getting. I won't be surprised by some Ministry official bursting into my flat, ready to Avada Kedrava me."

"Draco," she said, smiling as if speaking to a child, "you need to be reasonable. If you keep hanging around Ginny, the two of you will grow closer and closer. She'll learn everything about you. You just told me yourself she's not a moron. Eventually, she'll discover what we're trying to do; most likely without your awareness that she knows. In the end, an official will come and Avada Kedrava you, because she sent them."

"That may be true," Draco said slowly. "But by the time she figures out the details, it'll have happened. Azakaban will be freed, and I'll be gone."

Pansy was beginning to lose her patience. "If I didn't know any better, my dear," she said placidly, "I'd say you liked her."

Draco remained smooth. "It's not a matter of liking or disliking her, Pansy. It's a matter of me not wanting to be on the run again. How can I help you two if I'm constantly switching countries −?"

"How can you help," she cut in sharply, "if you're out shagging Weasley every night?"

He groaned and rubbed his face with his hands, aggravated. "Pansy, honestly," he complained. "I can handle her. She won't be a problem."

"Draco, I don't give a fuck if you can handle her or not! I want her gone. Do you understand me?" She was stepping over the threshold of dark anger into shrill fury.

"How do you propose I get rid of her, then, Pansy?" he asked with a tight smile and mock interest. "Just shove her over a cliff and hope the Ministry doesn't notice she's gone?"

"You're a smart boy, Draco," she said coldly. "Think of something. Preferably something less conspicuous."

"Look, Pansy," he said firmly, standing and crossing the room. He braced himself directly in front of her. "Might I remind you this entire Plan is your idea? Not mine? I didn't beg you to let me help. You asked me. And if you want my help, you let me do things my way. You let me deal with the Ministry my way. If not, then you and Blaise are on your own.

"And might I also remind you," he added, "that Azkaban is impermeable with three people? Imagine it with only two. It's impossible."

She was glaring up at him hatefully now, absolutely livid. Draco sighed inwardly; he had known she would take this difficultly. If her eyes were any indication, she was taking it so difficultly that the urge to jump up and scratch his face was becoming irresistible.

She'll get over it. She knows I'm right.

"You wouldn't dare leave us," Pansy whispered fiercely. "I could – and would – turn you into the Ministry the very instant you turned your back."

How do you know Pansy won't betray you behind your back? . . . Ginny's words came floating back to him. He disregarded them and bended to bring his face close to Pansy's. "You wouldn't dare turn me in," he whispered back. Smirking, he raked his gaze over her. "You love me too much."

That seemed to do it. With a shriek, she made her move. She attempted to pummel his chest with her fists, but he easily caught her wrists and lifted them above her head. Forcefully, she tried to break free as well as thrash her legs, which were a bit too close to his groin for comfort. To squelch her struggles, he fell on top of her on the bed, pinning her arms to the mattress and holding her still with his weight.

"You're wrong, you know," she snarled in a low voice, her face in an enraged grimace. "I stopped loving you a long time ago."

His grin was cold. "No, you didn't."

She looked away and gave a jolt in attempt to throw him off. He barely moved. "Get off me," she ordered.

"Promise to behave?"

"Draco, you'll be lucky if I don't castrate you once I'm free."

"Then no, I don't think I can."

She met his gaze again, her complexion now a stony mask; her eyes continued to spit fire at him. "I'm only going to tell you one more time," she warned faintly.

"Or what?" He tilted his head to the side and waited pleasantly.

She opened her mouth to reply – something scorching and incensed, no doubt – but at that moment there was a loud knock on the door. Taken by surprise, he glanced over, having forgotten Blaise was supposed to be meeting them. Perfect timing, Zabini, he thought.

He threw Pansy one last look, one that warned her not to have a go at him as soon as his back was turned, and slipped off her and the bed. Either she was too mad to try, or she had just given up, but she merely sat up and fumed as Draco unsealed the door to let Blaise in.

"About time," Blaise whined as soon as the door swung open. He stalked in, gazed at Pansy, and then turned back to Draco, appearing frustrated. "So, Malfoy," he said sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. "What the bloody hell is going on with you and Weasley?"

Ginny remained outside for a few more minutes, lounging in the shade of an umbrella and resting her eyes. She managed to stay awake only because her mind was racing with a million and one thoughts.

Okay, where to go from here? She had Draco back in her company, and she had just scored some serious positive points with him. Now all she had to do was keep him around, even after they left Greece.

Well, their time here in Greece would be easy enough. She'd just think of things for them to do; after all, there were quite a few. They could play the several wizarding games Tannar had in one of his sitting rooms. They could go into town and spend some time having lunch and shopping . . . or walking, more like, knowing Draco. They could spend an afternoon in the gardens just talking. They could go swimming again. They could get drunk and stay up all night and tell each other their deep, dark secrets. . . .

But of course Ginny herself would refrain from that activity. She'd just need to slip a Truth Potion into his drink and bam – she'd know just what he was up to.

The more she thought of the scheme, the more she liked it. If she knew what secrets he was keeping from her, then it would be easier to figure out how to go about trapping his affections.

Well, first, think about it, Weasely, she ordered herself. You know that the blueprints of Azkaban prison are in the villa. And you heard Blaise, Pansy, and Draco all talking about it when you were spying on them yesterday. So obviously they're here to steal the blueprints and he's trying to keep that from you.

But the question is, why do they want the blueprints?

She would have to find out. Though she was pretty confident that the former Slytherins wouldn't be able to steal the prints – she'd warned Tannar that the blueprints were in danger and the security protecting them needed to be heightened − it would still be beneficial to know why Draco wanted them in the first place.

Tonight seemed like a good time to give him a Truth Potion, she decided. At dinner, she could slip the potion into his beverage . . . she'd convince him to have something other than water, so he wouldn't be able to see or taste it. Then, she'd simply excuse the two of them, take him somewhere where Blaise and Pansy couldn't interrupt them, and ask him what was going on. After a quick Memory Charm, she'd have the answers she needed and he wouldn't remember a thing.

She nodded and smiled, satisfied with herself. Standing, her stretched her arms and tilted her head to the sky, enjoying the last seconds of sunshine. She had a lot of work to do before dinner, and that work required being cooped up in her room brewing a Veritaserum.

Inside the villa, the air was cool and the uncarpeted parts of the stone floor were chilly underneath her feet. Instead of going straight up to her room, she made her way to the fireplace hooked up to the Floo network. She needed to contact Creedmoore first, before she did anything else. She had yet to talk to him since she'd left England. He'd owled her a good half dozen times, but she'd put off answering, wanting to reply only when she knew more about the situation.

Well, she still wasn't completely sure about everything. But she knew enough, and if she let much more time pass, she would end up having a very rabid Creedmoore Apparating in on her when she least expected – and wanted – him to.

She posted two maids in front of the two entrances leading into the room, giving them strict instructions to let no one in. Not even Rafe Tannar. "If you do," she said with forced menace, "I'll see to it that you are relieved of any jobs within this country and the continent."

Empty threat, but they seemed frightened nonetheless.

Five minutes later, Ginny was on her knees with her head on the fire, waiting for someone to retrieve Creedmoore for her. He didn't have a fireplace in his office, so she'd shouted at some passing worker to find him immediately. The worker appeared to be a new intern, and she felt a flash of pride to realize she was bossing him around. Soon, she might even be bossing Creedmoore around. Surely if she completed this job, she would be ranked higher than the raving old bat.

"Well, well, well," Creedmoore's voice drawled, and she was surprised to see he'd entered the room without her noticing. He moved until he was standing directly beside the fire; he was so high up it was painful to crane her neck at such an angle. Placing an arm on what had to be the mantel above, he peered down at her with a sneer. "Look who decided to contact me."

Oh, please, you're reminding me of Draco, she scoffed, wanting to roll her eyes. Unfortunately, they were already as far into her eyelids as they could go, and no rolling was possible. "I'm sorry that I haven't contacted you earlier, sir, it's just that −"

"Weasley," he cut in solemnly, obviously not listening to her. "Let me tell you a story. That is, unless, you're far too busy to take a few minutes out of your schedule to update your boss on your job. . . ."

Ginny gritted her teeth. She'd nearly forgotten how she hated the man. "Sir, I apologize, but −"

"This is a story about a little girl who wanted to grow up," he went on, regardless. He began to pace nonchalantly in front of the fire. "She wanted to go on her first real job. For months, she felt stifled and suffocated, much like an artist who wasn't living up to her full potential. Then one day, poof! Out of nowhere, the Ministry demands her for the most important job of the century. Capture a wanted criminal that had somehow evaded highly trained Aurors time after time after time."

"Sir −"

"And the little girl is very excited, because her dream has finally come true. So she goes on this mission, against her parents' wishes, against her boss's wishes, and against the wishes of everyone who knows her."

"Sir, what have my parents got to do with −?"

"And then do you know what this little girl did?" Creedmoore said, now facing her and looking as if he was telling an eager child his ridiculous tale. "She didn't grow up. She went on her big-girl job and she remained an infant."

Oh, good Christ. "Sir," she said loudly and clearly, "I must inform you that there are several flaws in your little fairy tale. Firstly, this isn't the most important job of the century, because the century is barely three years old and therefore, there will be ample time for more important jobs to arise." She somewhat brightened at his reddening face. "Secondly, the little girl did not go against her parents wishes, they were very happy for her and just as eager as she was to see she was going somewhere in the world. And thirdly, the little girl was never little to begin with. A young woman, maybe. But certainly no infant."

"Goddamn you, Weasley!" he shouted. "It's been a week! One week! And no word from you!"

"It's been six days, actually," she corrected pointedly.

"Did you not get my owls? Did your letters get lost on the way here? Because I sincerely hope that is the case, Weasley," he bellowed.

"What if it isn't?" she asked sweetly.

"Then I'm reporting to the Ministry that you're ruining this job and need to be removed immediately!"

Ginny felt slightly uncomfortable at that. He'd do it, too. She wouldn't put it past him. It would be wise to stay on his good side. To do that, she'd have to move along to another topic and get his mind off how long it'd been since their last contact.

"Look, sir, I've found Malfoy already," she said hurriedly, launching into her own tale. She filled him in on what she'd been doing the past week, and eventually his face relaxed into his expression of concentration.

"Have you slept with him yet?" he asked gruffly as soon as she was finished.

"Have I . . . wha? . . . no," she said, reddening.

"Well, then you better get to it," he commanded. "Flirting and walking and swimming sounds like a grand time, but do you know what it means? Friendship. That's not what you need. You need him eating out of your bloody palm, Weasley. Do whatever you women do to make him so infatuated that he won't be able to breathe when you're not around."

Ginny laughed darkly. "This is Draco Malfoy we're talking about, sir," she reminded him.

"He's a man, isn't he? Just do it, and don't make excuses," he very nearly snarled.

"I'm not making excuses," she insisted hotly. "It's just that you don't know Malfoy. He's a different breed. He doesn't fall in love, and even if he did – which is highly unlikely – he isn't the type to be obsessive about it. He'd probably deny it until the day he died, or be so frightened by it that he'd just get up and leave −"

"It's your job to make sure that doesn't happen, Weasley. If you can't handle it, I'm sure there are several other interns who are very interested in taking your place."

"I can handle it," she muttered. "I made more progress in a week than any other woman would make in a month."

Creedmoore let a brief smile blink across his features. "Six days, Weasley," he corrected snidely. "Not a week."

"Look, sir," she said flatly, trying for patience. "All I'm saying is that everything would be so much easier if I could just Stun him and ship him back to England in a trunk."

"The right way isn't always the easiest, Weasley," he preached.

Ginny suddenly remembered what Penelope had pointed out the other night. Why did they need Draco back in England? Why couldn't they simply arrest him in Spain – or Greece, as it was now – and take him back under custody? Now that she wasn't half dumb from drinking too many sherries, that option seemed much more reasonable.

However, when she voiced her question, Creedmoore looked supremely annoyed. "Weasley, you are two seconds from being taken off this assignment," he warned dangerously.

"From asking questions?" she demanded incredulously.

"From being bloody ignorant!" he retorted. "Before you voice your opinions, research them first. I've already told you that if he was arrested in another country, they would take claims on him. We need to arrest him here. Is that penetrating your thick skull?"

Ginny would surely explode if she remained here much longer. Not only were her knees aching from resting on the stone from so long and her feet falling asleep from lack of blood circulation, but her head was beginning to throb violently and her brain was spilling with angry speeches brilliantly accentuated with colorful swears that were begging to burst forth. She needed to retreat to her room, and fast.

"Well, sir," she said tightly. "I think I should be going. I have a Veritaserum to make before dinnertime."

"Just seduce the bastard, all right?" he said sharply. "And you can't honestly tell me he's not the seducing type. If he is truly a man, then he can be seduced."

"Goodbye, sir," she said rapidly.

"Wait, one last thing," he added. "Your parents – well, your family, I should say – are upset with this entire mission."

"What?" Ginny's curiosity had been snagged.

"One of your brothers came to see me the other day," he said. "The one who works for the Ministry. Jon, Dan . . . some three lettered name −"

"Ron?"

"Yeah, that one. The Auror. He heard that you were after Draco Malfoy, and he stormed into my office, furious. You failed to mention that you and Malfoy were enemies." He glared at her like she'd sinned for not telling him.

"We didn't get along," she said stiffly. "But I wouldn't say we were . . . enemies." Blatant lie, anyone?

"You would think the man had killed your mother, from the way Ron raved about him," Creedmoore grunted. "The point of the visit was basically that your family was upset by the news, and someone would be going to retrieve you the very next morning."

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"Don't worry, I talked him out of it," he assured her, as if she should be proud of him. "I told him that if he or any other family member interfered with this mission, everyone in the family who had a Ministry job would find him or herself unemployed."

"You threatened my family?" Ginny wasn't sure which made her angrier; her family's over-protectiveness or Creedmoore's insensitivity.

"Hey, if you want to be retrieved by Daddy dearest, then like I said, I can have someone replace you in a heartbeat −"

"All right, look, forget it," she growled. "Just . . . keep them away, but never, ever threaten them again. Understood?"

"I highly doubt you are in such a position to order me around, Ms. Weasley," he said with a cold smirk.

Ginny couldn't even reply. She jerked her head out of the fire and sat back, stretching her numb legs, and mulled crossly over everything that had just happened. And this day had been going so well, too. . . .

Why was it all so complicated? Why couldn't she have picked a normal career? A Hogwarts professor would never have to seduce Draco Malfoy. Training to be a medi-witch wouldn't have included the experience of capturing a wanted criminal.

As she sat there, she was feeling so low she seriously considered giving it all up. Just packing her stuff and returning to England. Resigning from the position of a Hit Witch intern. Heading to Hogwarts to take a teaching job. They already had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for this year, but . . . there was always an opening for next year.

"Oh, Ginny, don't be a coward," she mumbled, collapsing backwards to stare at the ceiling. It was painted with fat, half-naked cherubs that flew around in the blue sky, and oddly enough they amused her enough to tug her lips into the start of a smile.

I can do this, she decided determinedly. I've got this far, haven't I?

It would only be a little bit farther. A month more, maximum. Maybe less, if things kept progressing as fast as they were.

Thusly re-energized, she pulled herself to her feet and left the room, relieving the maids she'd left to guard the doors. She went to find Tannar and ask him if she could access his Potion cupboard.

She found him in one of the many sittings rooms, half on top of some brunette maid, who had to have been a quarter of his age. He quickly whipped his hand out from underneath her skirt when Ginny stalked in, and the maid stopped mid-giggle.

"Yes, Ms. Weasley?" Tannar said awkwardly, his face red.

Ginny very nearly clucked her tongue, finding no need to feel embarrassed herself; they were the ones fooling around in the open. "I was just wondering where you kept your Potions materials," she told him. "There's no need for you to get up; just tell me where they would be. I need to make a Truth Potion."

"Well, er, they're in the cellar," he said, flustered. "Are you sure – er – I can have someone get the ingredients for you, if . . ."

"No, I'll get them myself," she replied. She turned to leave, thought of something else, and turned back. "Mr. Tannar, if I might ask, what precautions have you taken with the blueprints?"

Tannar swallowed, looked at his companion, and spoke to her in Greek. The maid nodded and hurried out of the room, leaving him alone with Ginny.

"Er, have a seat?" Tannar said, gesturing to the chair in front of him.

"No, thanks, I'll stand."

"Well," he said, unable to meet her eyes. "The prints are very well guarded; the top security men in the country are at work −"

"But that's the problem," Ginny cut in. "Parkinson, Zabini, and Dr . . . Malfoy will be expecting that. You need to add something that they won't be expecting."

"There's no way they can find out every spell I've cast upon the blueprints," Tannar said, his voice gathering in strength. "It'd take weeks of research to figure out how to do so."

But Ginny still wasn't put at rest. "Here's the thing, Mr. Tannar," she said, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "I don't want these three actually caught. I want them scared away, not taken. I want them to think they've escaped when we've really let them go −"

"You ask for a lot, Ms. Weasley," Tannar said faintly.

"But that's what must be done," Ginny insisted, surprising even herself at how firm and in-charge she sounded. "Mr. Tannar, we can't have them arrested on Greek land. I don't even care about Pansy or Blaise right now. My job is Draco Malfoy, and I can't have him captured here for attempting to steal the blueprints.

"So, what I propose you do," she went on, straightening her spine and preparing to make a grand exit, "is bar the way to the blueprints. And then after you do that, I want you to add some sort of alarm to the actual blueprints that alert you if they have been moved, just in case Pansy, Blaise, and Draco make it past your defenses. And if you are alerted they have done so, I want you to let them know you are coming and, without actually showing yourselves, let them leave unharmed." At his doubtful expression, she added, "You will, naturally, be rewarded by the Ministry for any inconveniences this presents."

Ginny felt a slight thrill as Tannar nodded meekly, agreeing. Oh, to have control over someone! The feeling was great. She could almost understand now why Creedmoore was the way he was. It was elating to tell someone what to do and have them do it. She couldn't wait to become a Hit Witch.

Her excitement tripling, she headed for the potions ingredients she needed.

The entire cellar turned out to be ingredient storage; there were several rooms, all with different temperatures for the materials that needed special care. In her bare feet and damp hair, she nearly froze in the room where an ingredient that needed to be kept below freezing was held, and was sweating within seconds in another area where certain types of roots were jarred.

In the corner of the room that was room-temperature, she found a cauldron – a rather expensive one, at that. She dumped all her supplies – including the book that contained the Truth Potion – in it, lifted it up, and left the cellar to begin her potion.

It took a good hour to get started; chopping up the ingredients and sorting them into the right proportions was normally the most tedious part of Potion making. By the time she'd completed it, she was already tired and hungry and ready to do something else.

It was time for lunch, anyway.

As Ginny approached the dining room, she began to feel butterflies in her stomach. She'd seen Draco only a couple of hours ago, but the thought of seeing him again made her all fluttery.

Seduce him, she thought apprehensively. Sure, Creedmoore, no problem.

Ginny wasn't a novice when it came to the dating field. She'd actually seduced before, a couple times, with men who played hard-to-get. But none of the relationships had lasted very long. In fact, the longest she'd ever dated somebody had been five months. And that had been her first boyfriend.

She'd often wondered if she had a problem with commitment. But when she analyzed the idea, she'd concluded it didn't make much logical sense. She came from a loving family and had no qualms with loving other people. She desperately wanted relationships with friends and boyfriends alike. She desperately wanted massive amounts of kids. It was just that she hadn't found the right guy yet. That had to be the only explanation.

But now, she'd have to force herself to stick around with the totally wrong man. What's worse was that she'd have to make him fall in love with her.

She knew she'd have to stop fretting about it all and just do it. Get over it, Weasley, she thought harshly. You're a highly likable person. And even if Malfoy doesn't like you, then you can figure out what type of women he does like, and be that woman.

After all, you're getting to be a pretty fantastic actress.

When she turned into the dining room, she found it deserted. She felt her spirits sink a bit. She'd got herself so pumped up and eager to start this entire seduction madness that it was disappointing not to find Draco.

No sooner had she stepped into the room did the door on the opposite wall open, and in came a maid with a tray of food. Ginny reluctantly sat down and began to eat alone, her thoughts making their way to everyone she'd left back in England and wondering what they were up to.

I'll write everyone I know a letter tomorrow, she told herself.

As she polished off the last of her meal, Draco, Pansy, and Blaise made their appearance. Pansy and Blaise both wore an expression of contained glee, while Draco appeared neutral. However, when Pansy caught sight of Ginny, her eyes darkened and her mouth drooped.

"Hi," Ginny told them brightly. "I was hoping you'd show up."

Draco sat down across from her and grinned. "Hello again, Weasley."

"We can't say long," Pansy declared dully, dropping heavily beside Draco. "We have work to do." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm sure you do," Ginny replied. Such as trying to steal the blueprints, she thought, barely containing her smugness from knowing they couldn't achieve the task. "But I hope you'll be done by this evening, Draco? I was thinking we could have dinner outside together. . . ."

"We're working," Blaise cut in simply, already with a mouthful.

Ginny pressed her lips together, stung, but not defeated. Draco avoided her eyes. "Well, everyone has to eat," she said, a bit lamely.

"We'll be taking our dinner upstairs together," Pansy said, her nose wrinkled to make her resemblance to a pug prominent. "Sorry, Weasley."

Ginny stared directly at Pansy, who stared unblinkingly back. There was a moment where they fought without words and Ginny suddenly realized Pansy and Blaise would be more of an obstacle than she'd originally assumed.

Wonderful. Blueprints, seduction, and angry exes. This just keeps getting better and better.

"Tomorrow we can have breakfast outside," Draco said simply. He spoke without much feeling, almost as if the notion bored him, but Ginny immediately perked up. "Tonight I have some things to take care of."

Ginny instantly deduced that meant they were going to try and take the blueprints that very night. She hid a smile, relieved she didn't have to worry about whether they would get the prints or not − her priority now was to figure out what Draco wanted with the prints to begin with.

"We're leaving tomorrow morning," Pansy snapped. It seemed that all civility she'd had towards Ginny was now gone. Something had obviously happened.

Probably jealous, Ginny thought. Primly, she fluffed her now-dry hair, disregarding the fact it was stiff with salt from her swim.

"Tomorrow?" Draco lifted an eyebrow, revealing his mild surprise.

"Yes," Pansy said, poking at her food. "Early. We probably won't see you again, Weasley."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of that," Ginny said breezily, catching Draco's gaze and giving him a small, mysterious smile. He looked back at her with a vaguely quizzical expression.

There was a lull in conversation, and before five minutes had passed Pansy was standing up, so abruptly that her chair tilted back and nearly fell. "All right, boys, let's back to work," she instructed and stalked towards the door.

Blaise shoved one last bite into his mouth, took a sip of milk, and hurried after her. Draco, however, lagged behind, taking his time as he wiped his mouth and set the napkin on the table.

"Come on, Draco," Pansy said impatiently.

"I'll be there in a minute," he replied, his irritation with her barely noticeable under his controlled tone. Ginny shot Pansy a gloating grin that the two men didn't catch, and the other woman scowled back before heading out of the room.

"So what's all this work you have to do?" Ginny asked, leaning back in her chair and studying him.

He snorted. "There's no work. Pansy just doesn't want me around you."

Liar.

Ginny raised her eyebrows momentarily and gave a knowing grin. "Jealous of me, is she?"

"I wouldn't say that," Draco said dryly, getting to his feet. "She just doesn't like you. Can't see why."

Ginny caught his sarcasm and felt a little hurt, but played it off. "Well, if she thinks she scares me, she's wrong," she announced.

"I'd be careful," he said over his shoulder as walked out. He paused in the middle of the doorway. "Pansy's bite is definitely worse than her bark."

"Terrifying," Ginny shot back.

He smirked. "I'll see you, Weasley."

Ginny left soon after, keen on finding Tannar. When she found him this time, he was fortunately not with a lady friend, but having some sort of a discussion with two other men in one of the rooms downstairs. The men left on Tannar's command, and Ginny was able to report to Tannar what Pansy, Blaise, and Draco were going to do that night.

"I don't know when," she explained, "but sometime tonight. So do everything I told you to before sundown."

Tannar looked a little sick. "Ms. Weasley, that's nearly impossible −"

"Nearly. That means it is possible. So I want it done, Mr. Tannar."

She had to hold back a gleeful grin. He looked apprehensive, but she knew he'd do it. If the top men in security were working to protect the blueprints, it wouldn't be too hard to add to the defense. It was achievable. The three Slytherins – though cunning when it came to achieving their desires – couldn't penetrate dozens of trained men and dozens more complicated spells.

And if they did, then so what? Ginny didn't think that the blueprints being in their possession would be an immediate threat.

Ginny thought it over a bit, and couldn't come to a solid conclusion on why Blaise, Pansy, and Draco needed the blueprints. Maybe if they wanted to enter Azkaban prison and know their way around . . . but that wasn't too firm a notion. The last place Draco wanted to visit was Azkaban.

If they were planning on helping a prisoner escape or something along those lines – then that was impossible. Ginny had studied the defense of Azkaban prison before she'd become a Hit Witch intern. The blueprint's security was like swimming through water compared to Azkaban's, which was like running smack into an iron door.

But who knows, Ginny thought as she returned to her room and Veritaserum potion. I have to keep my mind open to all possibilities.

However, the Veritaserum would surely provide a shortcut to the truth.

By ten that night, Blaise, Pansy, and Draco were prepared to make their move. After sitting around all day, planning, creating scenarios where different things could go wrong, and practicing the spells they would need, they were ready.

Or felt ready.

That morning, Blaise had found the room where the blueprints were contained. It was in the cellar, adjacent to a room that was slicked over with ice. Draco realized later, upon inspection, that rare Potions ingredients were being contained on the shelves, and they needed to be kept at a below freezing temperature.

Having used an Invisibility Cloak found in Draco's cavernous room, as well as wearing a Concealment Charm for double protection, Blaise had been able to sit by the entrance and figure out how the guards' routine went.

There were only four of them. One stood just inside the door, but Blaise couldn't decipher where the other three were posted. "I couldn't see into the room," he said, ignoring Pansy's death glare. "All I caught was the doorway."

"Great. For all we know, there are three more doors we have to go through," Pansy cried, exasperated.

"Well, we know all the spells there are for getting through locked doors," Blaise retorted. "So we'll figure it all out."

"But what about the guards?" Draco asked. He felt that people were the only real obstacles.

"One guard switches with a new, fresh guard every two hours," Blaise explained. "For example, when the Doorway Guard's two hours are up, another one comes on duty. The Doorway Guard doesn't leave until the other has come to relieve him. And even if he did, the other three would still be somewhere in the room."

"Basically, there are four guards at all times," Pansy stated.

"Basically."

Well, that's better than the six we originally expected, Draco thought. He wondered why the fact there were suddenly less guards bothered him. "How do we get past them?" he asked.

"We don't," Blaise answered simply. "There's no way we can. They can see through Invisibility Cloaks −"

"Then how did you −?"

"I hid in the back corner, in the shadow of the shelves," he explained briefly.

"Blaise. How do we get in?" Pansy pressed, growing more intolerant with each second.

"Well," Blaise said, stretching his legs out in front of him on the bed and grinning slowly. "We take the guards' places."

"Er," Draco replied intelligently. "Just . . . how do we do that?"

Blaise shook his head as if hurt. "You two have no confidence in me. I've done my research. I know just how to do it."

"Care to enlighten us, dear?" Pansy said through clenched teeth.

Blaise sighed as if he didn't care to. "I followed one of the guards when he got off duty," he told them. "He lives in a small hut on the edge of the property. And there isn't just one. There's a whole row of the little houses, concealed by a line of trees. All the guards live in that tiny little . . . well, village, I suppose you could call it.

"What we do," he went on, his voice strengthening with pride, "is we wait in the back entrance of the villa, where the new guards come in to change places with the current guards. One will come every two hours. We each Stun one, bewitch their clothing to fit us, change our features so we roughly resemble them, and head for the Blueprint room. Since it's dark down there, as well as in the room, so no one should notice we're not the real guards. If anyone talks to us, we'll just pretend like we're pricks and ignore them.

"Once we're all in the Blueprint room that leaves only one guard. We Stun him and copy the blueprints. Then we erase all the guards' memories so they don't even realize they were out at all. We come back to our rooms, go to sleep, and return to Madrid in the morning."

Draco released a breath slowly. "It won't be that easy, Blaise."

"Quit being so negative," Pansy said stridently. "It's not easy to begin with. It won't be easy, but Draco, we can do it."

"I'm not saying we can't," he answered effortlessly. "We'll just run into problems we won't expect and it will complicate things."

"Draco, I had no idea you were a Seer," Blaise said soberly.

"So if your plan works out correctly," Draco went on, "that means it will be six hours before we're all even in the Blueprint Room. That's too much time. The guards could wake up, Tannar could wake up, Weasley could wake up . . ."

He instantly knew he shouldn't have brought her up. Pansy's face darkened and she muttered, "Then get rid of her."

"It will take six hours to get in," Blaise agreed, kindly pretending like he had no idea what they were going on about, "but it shouldn't take us more than a half hour to copy the blueprints, change the guards' memories, and get out of there."

The remainder of the day was spent tweaking their Stunning Spells and Memory Charms to perfection. Draco could not get rid of the unsettling feeling in his stomach; he didn't call it fear, he called it anxiousness. He kept thinking that they shouldn't be doing this, that in the end, it would do more harm than good.

Shut up, Draco, he told himself savagely. You're being incredibly stupid. This is going to go just as smoothly as planned and then we'll be one step closer to Azkaban . . . and ironically, one step closer to freedom.

He had no idea.

A/N: So now Ginny's trying to seduce Draco in earnest. In return, he's trying to make her fall madly in love with him. So we've got some madwildcrazy seducing going on. Whatever do you think will happen? Pchk, certainly not love. And never fret, just because they're trying to seduce each other does not mean they'll get along. How fun would that be?

Next chapter: They break into the blueprint room and Narcissa comes back into play, along with another evil friend whom I'm sure we all know and love. Draco and Ginny grow closer, Pansy and Blaise grow more edgy, and Penelope and Maili make another appearance. Lots of D/G to go around as well as some evil darkness that I can't seem to keep out of my plots. Whee, yes?

Thank you toooo:

LiTtLe-bLaCk-sTaR (Ginny is lucky, isn't she? Hmm, instead of great, try, perhaps…stupendous, amazing, breath-taking, stunning, beautiful, heart-felt, or even god-like. Any of those will do. Haha. Thanks!), Static (well thank you very much. Glad it kept you entertained!), dragongirlG (ahh, thanks. D/G love scenes are always best when they're wonderfully fluffy with romance-novelesque features.), Courtney Kathrys (thank you! Your review was quick, to the point, and completely made my day), Jade Summers (Draco's quite tricky, isn't he?), Mo the Deatheater (oh, Ginny's not that dumb. Eventually she'll think things through. Goodness, people can't get over the fact that I made Draco short. He's no midget. But he's not six-feet-two, either. At least, according to the books. I followed cannon in that respect), myStiCaLYia (no, she just talked him into helping the Ministry. Since Tannar's own brother works for the Ministry, he was pretty much obligated and/or forced to be under Ginny's orders. Hope this chapter explained it better), Sportz-Crazy (thanks!), ToOtHpIcK (thank you! I know what you mean, sometimes I get bored with parts in stories and just scan. Glad you can actually stand to read this one!), dracomio (innit though?), Dracoluver2009 (eh, I tried. Two weeks passed considerably. Haha, sorry!), FalvaOftheweek (Thank you! Yes, wet and snogging are good combinations), lmnop, seekpeeker, Nobodysbitch (haha, Blaise. My bitch. strokes Blaise lovingly), shelly2 (thank you!), Mooshi (twice! Why, you ought to memorize it! Hehe), Siriusly Crazed (good, cause if you didn't stop with the name changes, I'd be utterly confused, and we don't want that, do we? Mwaha, thanks!), Cat, TrinMalfoy (hey, you're right! I did make rooms magical and be able to sense personalities. I was going to say something about it, but then…I didn't. Good for you. Nope, I'm not quite Greek – Irish with the glorious white skin that comes with it – so yes, I did research the foods. Yes, Tannar knows about the three criminals, which becomes clear in this chapter. And Ginny also contacted the British Ministry, soo…hope that answered your questions. You'll just have to wait and see what Draco's intentions in the end will be, darling. Just keep reading. Whoosh, great review! Thank you so much for taking the time!), AnonymousHGDV (I'm ever so sorry. Don't you just wish you had your own Draco. Hehehe…), Madison27 (indeed!), hinagiku, lhuntathraeil, Kawaii (yes, bring it on! Thank you!), audig (like whoa, huh? I agree…bwaha thanks), Kazte (thanks! I'm thrilled you like my stories. I don't get on LJ that much anymore, so don't be expecting much from me there. But thanks anyway!), Erao (Penelope and Maili have yet to make their exit of this story! They shall remain for a bit longer. Haha, thanks! D/G action shall be coming by the boatloads…eventually), Brooke Kenobi (boo on papers. Just do it during lunch or something. Haha. Thanks!), MoonDevil99 (that's really true, everyone has their own writing style. It's like saying…I wish I could talk like you…cricket cricket…okay, okay, I admit. Bad analogy. But it gets the point across. Haha, anyway, thanks nonetheless!), Ili (Greece does sound lovely. I made myself jealous while writing it. Of course we'll get to see what Draco's feeling. All in good time), Midnight Auror (Wow, girl. Your review was definitely in my Top 10 Reviews of All Time. I love reading, I love writing…but I've always been incredibly fond of movies because you can see what's happening, you can hear the exact tone, you can sense what's going on. Sometimes when I get excited reading books, I scan the little details in paragraphs that prolongs the suspense. That never happens in movies, cause obviously, I can't "scan ahead". Okay, what I'm trying to tell you is that by saying to me that my story is like a movie is probably the best compliment you could've given me. Just thank you very much), crazyfire89 (thank you! Different things effect different people, and I'm glad that my story makes you feel so much. As long as I can do that with just one person, my life as an author is satisfactory. Thank you very much), hpRoCks0204, hpfreakout (thanks for all the reviews! It makes me happy that you enjoy it so much!), Cecile Li (well, have a little mercy. I do have a life, you know), edward.marie(isn't the suspense killing you? Ahh, whatever will happen? Haha, thanks!), Greenstuff (ah, never fret, you'll see Draco's perspective on plenty of action soon enough), Spinn (blah, I know, I'm a horrible person. I didn't met my deadline. Poo. Thanks, though!), Mharie – Kaida (thank you!).