A/N: So as I swore, I haven't abandoned this fic yet! It's coming, slowly but surely, and the reason this one took so long was because of smut scene. Whoopie.

Enjoy, everyone!

Thanks to Jho, the best beta a girl (or guy) could ask for.

Chapter Thirteen

The Beginning

Draco found he was fighting a smile when he pulled open his front door to find Weasley, her arms full of paper bags, standing on the threshold of his flat. After a full afternoon of straining his eyes on blueprints, straining his ears listening to Pansy, and straining his patience with his relatives, a bit of verbal dueling with Weasley was just what he needed.

It was time to put his poor, poor mind to rest. It was time to forget all about Bellatrix and her boggling existence and focus on something… fun. Yes, fun. He was looking forward to this.

"Well," Draco drawled, leaning against the doorframe. "Ginny. How did I simply know you'd find me?"

She grinned from between the two paper bags. "I asked around town about you," she explained, and he didn't even bother to keep the amusement out of his expression this time. "Seems you are quite popular with the ladies, Malfoy."

Yes, it was true he'd enjoyed his time in Madrid by seducing some locals. Had she truly asked around? The notion seemed highly unlikely; Ginny was terrible when it came to communicating in Spanish. Maybe she had followed him one night.

Yes, he concluded. That was probably it. Perhaps that was how she knew his plan to go to Greece. She followed him home one time… probably when he'd had the car service, that very first night they met. She'd snuck into his house after their second date and had hidden behind the sofa or something, listening to his, Blaise, and Pansy's conversation about Athens.

Well, now I know not to have any meetings at my place anymore, he thought decisively.

"Are you going to invite me in, or am I going to have to drop this bottle of wine all over your bare feet?" she demanded with mock annoyance.

Draco stepped aside slowly. "Please, Weasley," he said, gesturing dramatically, "do come in."

She hadn't lost her grin. "Thank you," she said, and moved into the flat. "I brought us dinner," she added over her shoulder, already heading for the kitchen.

Yes, Draco noticed. She had been here before.

"Oh?" he said, allowing himself the momentary pleasure of watching how her jeans hugged her rear. "I hope it's something I like."

She dumped the bags on the counter, catching his eyes just as he lifted them. "Even if you don't like filet mignon, you'll love the way I make them."

He leaned against the refrigerator, smirking. "I'm a vegetarian."

She stopped unpacking the bags, shooting him a horrified look. She relaxed in an instant, realizing the lie. "Shut up, Malfoy," she muttered, taking out a huge slab of meat wrapped in plastic.

He studied her for a moment, intrigued. Hmm. She did look mighty appealing in those jeans. Perhaps it was time to get her out of them. And, with the same stone so to speak set off his plan to make her fall heavily for him.

It was time. Time to start seducing her; time to have her stumbling head over heels in love.

He moved up behind her, silently, and traced the thin line of skin showing above her jeans. She jumped a bit, her breath catching in her throat, her unpacking halting once more.

"Couldn't stay away, could you, Weasley?" he breathed in her ear.

She turned in his arms, and he was mildly surprised to see she was smiling lightheartedly. Placing her hands on his hips, she pulled him closer. "No, Draco, I couldn't." With that, she planted a firm kiss on his lips.

She would've pulled away, but he ensnared her mouth with his, turning what originally was a quick peck into a deep, lingering kiss. When she responded easily, running her palms over the front of his shirt, he determined swiftly that yes, indeed, he was keeping Weasley. He would not trade her in for another official even if Pansy paid him a million galleons.

Ginny Weasley was far too much fun.

After a moment or two or three, maybe; in any way, it was too soon Ginny made a noise of protest against his mouth and pushed him away gently. "Hold that thought," she whispered playfully, looking up at him through her lashes. "We eat first." She poked him on the chest and turned back around to the counter.

Draco, slightly taken aback at being rejected, moved away. Well, he was hungry. He could seduce her just as easily over dinner, he supposed.

"So who did you ask about me?" he asked conversationally, taking a seat at his table. Leaning back, he watched her move about the kitchen.

"Oh, everyone I came in contact with, actually," she said breezily, opening random cupboards. "Where do you keep the pots and pans?"

"Underneath the stove," he replied. "Were you that desperate to find me?"

She shrugged before ducking behind the counter, rummaging underneath the stove for the tools she needed. "I've had a good time with you," she said and he was a little upset he couldn't see her expression. "I came to Spain for a holiday and it was rather dull until I ran into you. Besides," she added, straightening into view with a trace of a grin, "it's exciting to be dating someone my entire family thinks is the scum of the earth."

Or thought was the scum of the earth. I'm dead, remember? He grinned back easily. "So you're using me to get back at your family?"

"No, not exactly," she insisted, glancing back at him as she washed her hands in the sink. Her mass of red hair, the very hair he used to despise, and was now beginning to take pleasure in flew over her shoulder with the movement. "But I admit, when I tell them that were together the look on their faces will be priceless."

He rubbed his chin absently. "Were together now, are we?"

She dried her hands on a dishtowel. "Please, Malfoy. Try and deny the fact that you're horribly attracted to me."

"All right, I deny it," he said effortlessly.

"Just like you're a vegetarian, right, you twit?" She heaved the dishtowel at him and made a face when he deftly caught it. Turning back to her ingredients, she asked peevishly, "Where are the cutting knives?"

"Second drawer on your left." He paused, watching as she removed a knife from the drawer and began chopping mushrooms. He was somewhat surprised that she was cooking the Muggle way. He lived in a Muggle dwelling, but she did have her own wand, after all. "When are you scheduled to go back home?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

"Whenever I want," she replied. "Within reason, of course. I'm not going to stay a year or anything like that." She threw him a curious glance, but before he could decipher it she was plowing on. "Have you ever considered returning to England?"

Ah. Here it was. She was starting to feel comfortable enough to begin coaxing him back to England. So it begins… "Not really," he said. "I spent seventeen years in England. It's time to explore the rest of the world."

"Don't you miss it?" she asked, crossing the room to the fridge and pulling out the butter. "I mean, don't you ever have yearnings to visit Hogwarts or… or Hogsmeade… you know, your childhood haunts.

"That's in Scotland, Weasley, and no, I don't really have any desire to go back," he replied.

"So you're satisfied just cutting all ties with everyone you've ever known and living out here in Spain," she said doubtfully, dumping a good sized slice of butter into the heated pan on the stove. It sizzled as it made contact.

"I haven't cut off all ties," he argued, thinking of Blaise and Pansy. Then, in an ironic attempt to throw her off-guard, he added, "It's not like I've died or anything. I've just moved."

He didn't see her reaction, which disappointed him. She faced away from him as she sprinkled the mushrooms into the pan.

There was a long silence, in which he began to feel uncomfortable. To break it he demanded abruptly, "How long is this going to take?"

"Dinner? It should be ready in a half hour or so. If you'd like to help, it'd go quicker," she said, looking at him pointedly.

"My place is not in the kitchen," he said, and to demonstrate his point, stood up to leave.

"Where are you going?" she inquired as he passed her. She held out an arm to block his path. "Not so fast, Malfoy. You're not going to sit in the next room while I slave over your dinner."

"Hey," he said, grabbing her wrist to move it out of his way, "you're the one who wanted to make me dinner."

"Yes, but the least you can do is stay and talk to me," she snapped, though her eyes seemed to be dancing. She wrenched her wrist free and pointed to the kitchen table. "Now pour us a glass of wine, will you? And stay a bit."

He obeyed her, not because she said so, but because he realized he couldnt do a lot of seducing while he sat in the other room and stared stupidly at the wall.

He poured her a glass of wine, but none for himself; he had no interest in getting the least tipsy, lest he say something he shouldn't. When she saw he had no glass, she gave him a startled look. "Are you now a virtuous non-drinker, too?" she asked incredulously.

"No," He took his original seat at the table. "You just bought cheap wine."

"Oh, don't be such a wanker, Malfoy!" she said exasperatedly.

"Am I not allowed to not drink if I don't want to?"

"Well, yes, but its rude not to drink if someone brought it for you as a present," she said sternly, sounding for all the world like a professor.

"Then Ill drink it later," he said with a shrug. "What's the hurry? You're staying the night, aren't you?"

He delighted in the flush that spread over the tops of her cheeks. Combined with the somewhat sly grin that graced her lips, she looked irresistible. It was startling to discover that a Weasley could be such a charmer.

"Well, I didn't come for just dinner, if that's what you mean," she answered in a mysterious way, though there was no mystery in what she meant.

After another lengthy pause, this one not as awkward, Ginny piped up again with another story from her childhood. At first Draco found it quite random, but it had something to do with her eldest brother and a bewitched filet mignon so it had some prevalence.

Finally, twenty minutes later, the delicious smells making his stomach rumble, they sat down at Draco's kitchen table for dinner. Ginny frowned at the surroundings, clearly upset at the lack of romance, and asked if he had any candles.

He was mildly offended. "Ginny, how many times must I remind you I'm living here as a Muggle?"

"Even Muggles have candles, Draco," she said dryly. She pulled out her wand and swished it, dimming the electrical lights.

"Not heterosexual males," he muttered, plopping a steak onto his plate.

"So I understand that you don't miss England," Ginny began, serving herself as well. "But what about magic? Don't you miss that?"

He had done a minimal amount of magic in the past few days, but he still lived like a Muggle, and it was hard. To put it delicately. Muggles had a rotten lifestyle. "Not so much," he lied as nonchalantly as possible. "I do a little magic now and then. Summoning Spells are a necessity, no matter how you live."

She smiled, and asked no more questions. Instead, she stood up and went back to the counter, probably to check on the bread warming in the oven. Draco took the opportunity away from her prying eyes to take a bite of her filet mignon, which smelled divine but odors could be deceiving. He chewed slowly, and nearly groaned out loud… yes, it would seem Ms. Weasley was something of a goddess in the kitchen.

"How is it?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

"Edible," he relented, his mouth full.

She laughed, returning to the table with two glasses of wine. "My mum taught me well," she said lightly, placing one in front of him.

The mention of mothers made Draco's stomach lurch and nearly ruined the tastiness of the food. Nearly. Hurrying to get off the subject, he gave her one of his devastating smiles. "If you're as good in bed as you are in front of the stove, Weasley, then I may just agree to see you on a regular basis."

She raised her eyebrows. "Why, thank you, Draco," she said mockingly. "That's very kind of you."

"I'm a kind man," he said agreeably.

And again, it seemed they had run out of things to talk about. The next few minutes passed in a lull of conversation; the only sounds being the scrape of forks on plates and the occasional smacking noise when Ginny opened her mouth while chewing.

Then, Ginny leaned back in her chair, patting her stomach and yawning simultaneously. "I'm done," she declared.

Draco took the last bite of his third helping and decided he, too, had had enough. Any more and he would probably explode, which, Muggle or wizard, was never a good thing.

"You honestly don't like the wine, Draco?" asked Ginny, nodding at his full glass. Hers was nearly empty.

He had barely even registered that it was in front of him. With a shrug, he replied, "I didn't try it. I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, come on, just drink it," she said with an unusual amount of passion. "It won't kill you."

Unable to stop himself, he lifted an eyebrow. Now he was getting suspicious. Just what was so important that he had to drink the wine?

Probably wouldn't be a good idea to drink and find out, he decided swiftly. "I don't know, Weasley, I was always taught to respect my body and never give in to peer pressure," he said with a smirk.

Her eyes frosted over. "Well, fine," she said coolly, standing up with empty plate in hand. "I guess if you can't be polite enough to drink my wine, I don't have to be polite enough to stay for sex."

Draco managed to make his chuckle sound like a cough. Now he was glad he hadn't drank any of it; clearly, there was something in it she wanted him to ingest. Perhaps a Truth Potion. Very wise, Draco, he congratulated himself.

He stood up and followed her around the kitchen. "You're not angry," he chided.

She dropped her dishes in the sink and whirled around, meeting his eyes directly. "Oh, aren't I?"

"I'm the one who should be angry," he said, staring down at her. "Why are you pushing it so hard? Are you trying to poison me, Weasley?"

She made an exasperated face. "Don't be stupid, Draco."

"I'm not being stupid, Ginny," he retorted, keeping a straight face. She looked serious he needed to stay serious. "I'm being cautious. I have every right to be, don't I? You come into my life, after so many years of hating and despising me, and beyond any reason I can make out, you make a strong effort to continue seeing me. It doesn't make much sense in my mind."

Her eyes continued to flame. "If you must know I'm attracted to you. You think this is easy? You think that I like being attracted to filth like you?"

His amusement was beginning to fade. "Quite a paradox, Weasley," he said, his tone a tad more icy. "You hate being attracted to me. You work against nature to see me. I'm not making a connection, and I assure you it's not because I'm being stupid."

She stared back at him through narrowed eyes and he could sense she was truly angry. How in the world he had angered her so quickly he didn't know, but somehow he had.

He was one hell of a seducer.

"It's complicated, all right?" she demanded.

Jesus, he couldn't do this. He couldn't woo her with idiotic, meaningless words as he had so many other women. Weasley wasn't other women she wouldn't fall for it.

Oh hell. He just needed to quit thinking.

She made a move to get around him, but he stopped her. Pinned her against the counter. Turned off his brain. "Weasley," he said, and he knew it was the sudden gentleness in his voice that had her face relaxing. "Stay for a bit."

He put a hand to the side of her head and stroked her hair with his thumb. She was staring at him, he could feel her eyes, but he avoided her gaze, concentrating instead on her forehead. He brushed his lips over it, feeling her breath, warm and quickening, on his throat.

This he could do. He could seduce her through silence through kisses, touches, pleasures. Neither of them needed to say anything.

With his eyes closed, he tilted her face towards his and found her lips easily. The kiss he gave her was gentle, kind. Her mouth was warm and moist, and he marveled for a moment at how simple it was to kiss her. It was so effortless to lose himself in her, in the closeness of her.

Later, he would realize that this moment should've been the exact moment he put an end to all of it. He should have pulled away and marched her directly out the door.

But he didn't do anything of the sort.

He led her to his bedroom; it was a relief that she didn't speak. If she had spoken, maybe the spell would've been broken. Maybe the following days and the following trouble never would've occurred.

But she didn't say a word.

Draco was not nervous. He was anxious. He had not realized until that very moment how much he wanted to take Ginny Weasley. Had not let himself think such a thing, because before tonight it had seemed so horribly low to crave her. Now it seemed perfectly reasonable; perfectly acceptable.

Ginny entered the room first and was facing him after he shut the door. She stood in the streetlight that pooled in through the light curtains, but he could not read her face. He decided that he didn't want to.

He captured her mouth once more, kissing her more deeply than before. Her hands went to his shoulders, her palms running over them and down his back. The kiss quickened, became more frantic.

"The bed," he said ruggedly.

She nodded, agreeing, and pulled him to the bed. He practically fell on top of her, and she giggled in his ear. Lifting himself onto his elbow, he stared down at her. "There's no need to be rough, Weasley," he muttered, and before she could reply he was kissing her again.

After only a moment, his lips trailed off and pressed against her cheek, her jaw, her neck. He could hear her breathing, more and more ragged, in his ear, and brought his hands to the bottom of her shirt. It was a blouse, but he did not bother to unbutton it… he slipped his hands under, trailing his fingertips along the skin of her belly. She made a strange noise, and when he lifted his head at her quizzically, he saw her smiling and realized it had been a strangled sort of laugh.

"Tickles," she explained briefly.

His hands reached her bra, and he cupped both breasts through the lacy material. No longer was she smiling. He pushed the garment up and felt the bare skin, and she let out a breath loudly, her eyes closed. Her nipples were already hard and he brushed his thumbs over them, gently, and felt her jerk beneath him.

"Draco," she moaned, "Draco, I think…"

"Shh," he said quietly, removing his hands only to unbutton her shirt. "Don't think."

She was silent, and it was an agonizing few seconds for the two of them as he worked to rid her of her top. Eventually the blouse fell open, and he reached to unclasp her bra. He leaned back down and captured her mouth, unable to keep his tongue from roaming over her two bottom teeth, the two that slightly overlapped. He lifted her up, still kissing her, and helped her shrug out of her shirt. The bra was next, and then he could feel her naked breasts pressed against his chest, wishing for the life of him that he wasn't wearing such a thick shirt.

It seemed she was thinking the same thing, for she was already tugging at the bottom of his shirt before he was. He pulled away only for the split second it took to lift the shirt off his head, and together they tossed it across the room.

Slowly. Draco wanted to go slowly and passionately and gently. But already he was losing control of himself, and it seemed Ginny was having similar feelings. His lips left hers once more and planted sloppy kisses down off her chin and along her collarbone. When he captured her right breast in his mouth, she fisted his hair and let out a loud groan, arching against him.

Trousers. He needed to get out of his trousers now. To hell with slow. He sat up, straddling her, and fumbled with his button, his fingers suddenly clumsy. Ginny reached out and unbuttoned it for him, and as she had with his shirt, helped him out of his trousers and underpants.

He moved back down to kiss her, but felt her hands against his chest, pushing him back up. "Get off me," she said huskily.

"What?" He was having trouble thinking straight.

"Get off me, I need to… I've got to get my…"

Clearly, she couldn't think straight, either. He bewilderedly sat up and realized what she meant her jeans were still on. He had been in such a frenzy he hadn't even noticed, even though he could quite feel it now. After all, he was straddling her, completely naked…

Get a grip, Malfoy, he thought, trying to shake his head clear. You're supposed to get Ginny to fall in love with you, not fuck her senselessly.

"Okay," she panted a moment later. "Okay, they're off…"

She grabbed his arm and pulled him back on top of her. Now he could feel the delightful sensation of her breasts against his chest, and he shifted against her, reveling in the sensations. She forced his head down to hers and kissed him hungrily, nipping at his lips before exploring his teeth with her forceful tongue. She squirmed underneath him as he traced the outline of her hips and waist with his fingertips, and he thought that he had quite simply gone mad. All rational thought had left him and he felt only one thing pumping through his veins like blood.

Need.

He needed her so intensely he felt like he might burst. And surely he was going to, very soon, even before he could slip inside her. He couldn't remember ever feeling like this before… he had had other women, but none had excited him so thoroughly before, none had taken all his self-control and thrown it out the window. Ginny, he was quickly discovering, was not like any woman he had ever met.

He was not concerned about that now. It didn't matter. He had forgotten that he was supposed to seduce her with incredible lovemaking; he had forgotten that she was a member of the Ministry and would gladly see him behind bars. Right now the only thing that mattered was Ginny, the body and soul, not the mind or profession. Everything else was secondary and petty.

"Draco please," she said through what sounded like gritted teeth. "I need . . ."

She did not need to tell him again. He easily slipped his hardness between her legs and, in one fluid thrust, entered her completely. She let out a cry, clinging to his shoulders, and dropped her head back.

They found a rhythm easily. It was incredible, Draco thought… incredible that they molded so well together, that they fit so perfectly together. If he had known it would be like this, if he had known it would be so… so good… he would have done this the first day they met.

She was making noises in the back of her throat; noises that were driving him mad. His mind had ceased to think. It was just a huge blank, and he felt no warnings, no nudging in the back of it that was trying to caution him. It was right, it had to be and for now that was good enough.

He climaxed first and maybe she did soon after, it was hard to tell. Suddenly he was collapsing against her, out of breath, his heart pounding. He laid there for a moment, trying to gather his scattered thoughts.

He felt her shuddering underneath him, and he thought he might be crushing her. Rolling off onto his back, he stared up at the ceiling, waiting for a rush of emotions to take over him. Guilt. Shame. Regret.

He only felt satisfaction. Immense and extreme satisfaction.

He had done the right thing. Glancing over at her, he saw she, too, was looking directly at the ceiling. And she had a tiny smile on her face.

Draco could hardly hold back his own grin. She's falling in love with me, he thought, pleased.

Yes, that much was certain. She was already on her downward spiral, falling headfirst in love with him.

She was well on her way to her doom.

It was only sex. Scarcely any kissing or foreplay was involved. It was purely and simply sex.

Ginny thought this as she lay there into the early hours of the morning, rolled on her side with one arm crooked under her head. The other hand was tangled loosely with Draco's, who lay behind her, his arm draped over her waist. He, too, was on his side, but his body was not touching her back. This distance was another sign that they only had sex.

Not made love.

But she discovered she was oddly content. In fact, she had to fight to stop smiling. Yes, they might not have been touching completely, but it had been Draco who had slipped his fingers through hers before falling asleep.

We might not have made love, Ginny thought, biting her lower lip as her mouth continued to curl into a satisfied grin, but that certainly wasn't mindless sex, either.

She rolled over, still holding his hand, and settled on her other side, facing his sleeping form. The sheet had been thrown over his hips so she could see nothing but the white expanse of his chest and, of course, his expressionless face. Curling her arms to her chest taking his hand along with it she took the opportunity to study him. Asleep, he looked serene and unreal. She had never seen him without a smirk or his eyebrows twisted in a mocking or angry manner. In short, she had never seen him relaxed.

As she stared, she felt a sudden rush of emotion, of possessiveness. She thought of him in Azkaban, that beautiful face of his thin and gaunt and haunted, and felt her heart jerk. Never, her mind said automatically.

Then… what? Ginny, have you gone mad?

No, she hadn't, she decided. She was just caught in the moment. She was still reeling from the great sex they had, and he looked so innocent and young asleep, she couldn't help herself. Of course she felt protective of him. She was a compassionate person, after all.

Once he opened his mouth, she would snap out of it.

But his mouth was still closed, and for the time being, she could think whatever she wanted. Right now, it was still safe.

She gently rubbed his pinkie finger with her thumb, unaware that a slight frown had replaced her smile. His breathing continued regular and even. "Draco," she whispered, so quiet she was almost mouthing. "What have you been through?"

She reached over with her free hand and touched his eyebrow she couldn't see the scar in the darkness, but she knew it was there. He'd said a jar had exploded. How? Had it been a Potions accident? A Charms lesson gone awry? Or could it perhaps be a scar from his childhood… from an abusive father that had deemed Voldemort more important than family?

She was being silly, she knew… she had no proof Lucius Malfoy had been abusive. If anything, Lucius had been a good father Draco certainly had raved about him back at Hogwarts. But she had a hard time believing that he was a loving man… maybe he hadn't physically hurt his son, but he might've done so emotionally.

"Maybe that's why you're so evil," Ginny murmured, skimming her fingertips over his fine hair. "Maybe you don't know any better."

Draco made a noise in the back of his throat at first, she thought he had woken up. But then he pulled his hand out of hers, shifted, and settled with his arm over his stomach.

She wanted to touch him some more… wanted to feel his smooth skin underneath hers and hear his breathing close to her ear. She wanted to snuggle against him and feel his warmth as she drifted off to sleep… but something in her brain said that it might not be wise; that she should roll over and sleep on her own. She wasn't sure why she thought this, but wondering about it later on in the day she realized she had been frightened by her current thoughts.

Because certainly, angelically asleep or not, thinking warm and tender thoughts about Draco could not be healthy.

Sunday, 16 March, 2003

They made love again that morning. This time it was slow, exquisite, and… Draco thought… perfect.

If she thought she could handle this job, she was sorely mistaken. She was getting far more than she had bargained for.

Afterwards, he made her breakfast. Another touch that she certainly couldn't resist. Every time he caught her eye, she was grinning widely. As he cooked the bacon and sausage on the stove, he couldn't help but think that he could easily get used to seeing her at the table every morning. He had never realized it before, but it was rather lonely waking up to an empty flat.

This is a perfect arrangement, he told himself. She thought she was doing her job by spending time with him. Meanwhile he was keeping her out of the way of Pansy and Blaise as well as adding some entertainment to his previously dull existence.

"What are we going to do today?" Ginny asked pleasantly as they began to eat. "I saw you had a television in the other room. We could spend all day binging on sweets and watching Muggle shows"

"I have some errands to do first," interrupted Draco. He had agreed to meet at Pansy's flat later that morning, and he was beginning to regret it. He has to tell Pansy today that he couldn't keep coming to meetings. I need to keep Weasley occupied.

"Oh? Of what sort?" she asked, politely enough, as she shoved a whole piece of bacon in her mouth.

"You can stay here and wait for me to come back," he said instead of answering.

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, can I?"

"Or you can go home," he said with a shrug. "I don't care. But I must make it clear… you're welcome back into my bed any time you'd like. And to cook for me."

Pink tinged her cheeks. "That's very generous of you, Draco. What do you have to do today?"

He paused his eating, giving her a narrowed look. "You're very nosy, you know that?"

She grinned with a mouthful of food. "I know," she said gleefully.

"Just boring errands," he replied, knowing she wouldn't give up until he answered. He made up lies rapidly. "I have to head to the bank and check on something."

"Make sure you're still disgustingly rich?" she interrupted pleasantly.

"I beg your pardon," he said in mock offense, glad for the diversion. "There's nothing disgusting about money or yours truly."

She rolled her eyes at him.

A half hour later, he was showered and dressed for the rendezvous at Pansy's. Ginny was still at his kitchen table, wearing his loaned T-shirt, hovering over the Muggle newspaper.

"It's in Spanish, Weasley," he told her, sticking his head in. "In case you haven't noticed."

She stuck her tongue out at him and held up a Spanish-English dictionary. "Ha!" she declared triumphantly.

"Oh, good," he said breezily, "at that rate, you'll be finished with a single article by dinnertime. About the same speed it takes you to read English."

"Go fuck yourself, Malfoy," she said cheerfully.

He chose not to reply to that. "See you in a couple of hours."

Moments later, he had Apparated in front of Pansy's flat. Upon entering her place, he was startled to discover it was deathly quiet. For a second he stood just inside the doorway, straining ears for signs of commotion or speaking. Silence rang in his ears.

Had he gotten the time wrong? Maybe it was at Blaises?

"Hello," he said loudly. He didn't know why it was pointless; there clearly wasn't anyone here.

Well, this was just great. He was certain Pansy had told him half past eleven, her flat… why would they have it anywhere else? Blaise's flat was a mess, plus a lot smaller. And he surely would've known if they were meeting wherever Bellatrix and Narcissa were residing.

It was possible she had said half past seven… but he doubted that, too.

They must've changed it, or had gone on some mission without him.

Gritting his teeth in aggravation, he turned to leave.

He saw movement in the corner of his eye and jumped slightly, startled. He glanced to the side and saw Bellatrix, standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

He wasn't sure why the sight of her spooked him. Maybe because she was standing there, arms crossed, face expressionless and unreadable. She didn't say a word.

Draco was relieved to hear his voice was steady. "Where is everyone?" he demanded.

She continued to look directly at him, motionless, for so long he began to feel incredibly stupid. Just when he decided she wasn't going to answer, she lifted her shoulders in a slow, careless shrug. "I told them to leave," she said simply.

And suddenly Draco was very uncomfortable, and it wasn't completely due to the fact that he was alone with a woman who made it her passion to torture people. It was mainly because of her chilling, matter-of-fact tone that declared only one thing. She was in charge.

"And they listened to you?" he said incredulously. While Blaise wasn't known to put up any resistance, it seemed odd that Pansy, who was fond of saying the entire Plan belonged to her as though it were some possession, would take orders from someone who had just come into the picture.

But then again, it wasn't just anyone. It was Bellatrix. Voldemort's right-hand woman… his favorite of all the Death Eaters.

Bellatrix dislodged herself from the kitchen doorframe and came towards him, moving fluidly and gracefully. Her black silken robes swished faintly at her ankles, the only sound in the room. Draco resisted the urge to take a step back.

She halted before him, her midnight eyes scanning over his face. She was studying him, he realized, and christened the moment as the most awkward of his entire life.

Abruptly, she jerked out a hand and gripped his chin in her fingers, slightly pinching his cheeks to the point that if he puckered his lips, he would resemble a fish. He was so startled he wasn't sure what to do, and as a result remained absolutely still.

"What are you doing?" he asked dully, finding it odd to talk when his cheeks were shoved forward. She didn't acknowledge him; she turned his head to the left, then the right, studying his profile.

Well, he had changed his mind… this had to be the most awkward moment of his life. And having concluded this, his brain snapped back into reality, and he yanked his head back from her hold, reflexively batting her wrist away from him.

She merely sneered, a very unattractive expression. "You have a strong face," she said, in a tone that was far from complimentary. "But your eyes… you are very foolish."

He smirked; he was beginning to feel very perturbed with Miss Bellatrix Black. "Don't ever touch my face again," he said calmly, and turned to leave.

"Wait a moment, Draco, before you go," she called, in such a pleasant tone his interest was snagged. He glanced back at her, her arms once again crossed. But now she had a tiny smile on her face, and her eyes seemed wider, more alert. "Just a bit of advice, if you should feel so inclined to take it," she said mysteriously.

Draco waited, curious.

"Distance yourself from Miss Weasley."

Ginny was planning on exploring Draco's flat while he was gone, hoping to find some clues as to what he was up to. Or, at the very least, learn a little bit more about him.

However, before she got to rummage through his bedroom, she heard a fluttering noise coming from the next room. Upon entering, she saw there was an envelope on the carpet before the front door, with her name scribbled across it.

Evidently, it was either Ron or Creedmoore answering the letters she had sent out two days before. Crouching down, she scanned the envelope and instantly recognized Ron's handwriting. She had forgotten she had asked them to send the letter to wherever it would get to her quickest. Thank God this had come when Draco wasn't around.

She glanced at the clock. Draco had only been gone ten minutes he probably wouldn't be back for a couple of hours. Collapsing back on the couch, she made herself comfortable and tore the envelope open.

Dear Ginny,

As you can probably imagine, when I first heard you were tracking down Draco Malfoy I was not too happy. In fact, I think that if you have any sense at all, you will come home right now and let someone else do this job. Malfoy is not a good man I would go so far as to say that he's a dangerous man. He never liked me or you, and I know he's going to take out all of his loathing on you. The only thing that's keeping me from retrieving you myself is the fact that this is a Ministry operation, and I have too much respect for my job to be saving your skin when you should know very well that what you're doing is supremely brainless.

In response to your inquiry of Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, their records are clean. Zabini's parents were killed back when he was ten years old and he lived with his elderly uncle until he became legal. According to the Ministry, the uncle has never been a You-Know-Who supporter, and as such Zabini was never tied to him. Parkinson's father was sent to Azkaban after the Second War, and died there after the first few months. Her mother wasn't accused of being a supporter, and claimed Pansy wasn't either, so the two of them evaded prison. Pansy's mother lives somewhere near Liverpool, and last time anyone checked, Pansy lived with her.

I hope this helps in some way, and that you'll soon finish up and come home. I don't like the thought of you so far away in the clutches of Malfoy.

Love,

Ron.

Ginny crumpled the parchment and sighed. Of course, Ron had to spend half the letter berating her as if she was three years old and didn't have a brain in her head. Too bad, Ronald, she thought, destroying the letter with a wave of her wand. I'm all grown up now.

A/N: I really need to get back in the groove of thank yous, but I supposed since this chapter took so long I wouldn't postpone it another day. Next chapter, promise. I really do appreciate all your reviews, they make me so very happy!

Happy holidays.