In Which Malfoy Steels Hermione's Magazines

A knock at the door awoke Hermione from her panicked filled afternoon by the oven, Seamus was late and the guests were going to be there in two hours. She practically ran from the stove and ripped the door open.

"Oh, it's you," Hermione was severely disappointed. Draco Malfoy huffed in a gittish superior sort of way.

"I thought I'd come and assist your making of the first man made volcano," Malfoy drawled, walking in the kitchen, surveying the numerous pots and pans and purred slime on the walls.

Hermione bristled, "I assure you, Draco, that I am perfectly fine, and my cooking is-"

Malfoy held up a pan that had the bottom burnt through totally, "I saw this in a restaurant once, Granger; they called it; "when the trainee chef got drunk.""

"Shut up, it was an old saucepan that-"

"Old or not it's a cast iron saucepan. Just accept it, you're a crap cook." Malfoy was clearly enjoying the moment.

Hermione huffed, "I am not a crap cook, I need no, help, now go and whatever it is you do in my house."

"Steel your magazines?"

"Yeah, that."

Malfoy smirked and wondered off into her lounge, taking a seat on the sofa and picking up a random magazine. Witch Weekly,

"Honestly Granger, you buy this muck?"Malfoy called through to the kitchen. Hermione poked her head round the door to look at the magazine in Draco's hand.

"I steel it from Ginny, you nab all of my other decent magazines." Hermione replied matter of factly. Malfoy sneered, opening it up and reading exerts from articles at random.

"Weird Sister's bass player looses ear to Irate Jarvey. I feel sorry for the Jarvey. 101 ways to hold on to your Wizard; including sticking charms and an organic kumquat paste." Malfoy made a face, "that sounds distinctly illegal. I'll have to show it to Father." and with that he shrunk the magazine and shoved it into his pocket.

"I saw that!" came Hermione's angry yell from the kitchen.

"You saw nothing- you assumed I'd done something wrong, have a little face Granger."

"You have no faith in my cooking!"

Malfoy nodded solemnly, "I am not the only one, Longbottom was traumatised last dinner party. You blew up a saucepan that turned his hands red, or, wait did I dream that?"

Hermione snarled, but said nothing.

Malfoy smirked, "Oh, so that did happen? And didn't you also get taken to St. Mungo's with a turnip for a leg?"

"Just go back to stealing my magazines," Hermione said, irritated.

Malfoy picked up Hag Weekly and cringed, then looking around stuffed it in his pocket.

In Which Ginny Strives Not to Fall Up the Stairs.

The door bell of Ginny Weasley's house rung just as Ginny herself was getting changed. She tutted and rushed down the stairs, in only a skirt and bra- she was already late and frazzled. She ripped open the door to find one very startled Blaise Zabini standing in the doorway.

"Oh, it's you, I'm running late; come in." Blaise walked through the door staring somewhat apprehensively at Ginny.

"Er- right. Ginevra, you do realise you aren't wearing a top?" Blaise stated, rather awkwardly, trying to avoid contact with Ginny's chest.

"And I just thought I hadn't put the central heating on!" came Ginny's sarcastic reply as she thundered up the stairs. Then fell up the stairs.

"Ow, fuck," Ginny moaned, as she limped up to the top.

Blaise sighed and took a seat at a table in the kitchen, "I don't know why you're so anxious to get there, Ginevra, you don't trust Hermione's cooking any more than you can digest it."

"No, it take's the word "shit" to a new level," Ginny called down," but you're after some Hermione action and Hermione likes a prompt man."

Blaise blushed, "What makes you think I want some, "Hermione Action?" He could practically hear Ginny rolling her eyes.

"Perhaps it's the way you follow her around like a lost wombat on catnip." Ginny paused, "she'd like you more if you stole some of her magazines back from Draco."

"What; disrupt his ever growing collection of teen witch weekly? I don't think so. He'd come chasing after me with a dull spoon, intent on sawing off my leg!"

Ginny sighed and ran down the stairs, this time fully clothed. "What ever happened to the old Draco, the "get out of my way you red-headed poor muggle-lover"?"

Blaise sighed and stood up, looking unusually solemn, "He's never been the same since the night in the tent with Weasley," Blaise smirked, "I hear he had a nasty experience with a tent peg and a voodoo doll."

Ginny snorted, "He has an over active imagination, and serious issues. You know they have his name on record at all therapists' offices'?" Blaise heaved a sigh; Draco was just not what he used to be. "Anyway," Ginny continued, "what's the plan with Hermione? I know you've been all Slytheriny and plotty the past week; Theo said you'd been holed in your room."

"Bloody Theo; are Slytheriny or plotty even words?"

Ginny nodded, "Oh most definitely."

"I don't really have a plan. Just wait till she's loosened up a bit then, I dunno…"

"Sweep her off her feet and shag her senseless?"

Blaise stared at Ginny for several seconds, then,

"That would work."

Ginny nodded, "Of course it would. Anyway, let's move out, I hear Terry's bringing the entertainment; it'll be worth it if only for the look on Ron's face. Though I doubt it'll top last year's blue haired tigers which tried to hump his leg."