"I'm not going."
Ginny spun around in the foyer, and even the billowing of her robes around her form did nothing to hide her stomach. If he weren't so angry, he would probably think something tremendously embarrassing like she'd never looked as beautiful, but instead, he was too indignant to care.
"What do you mean, you're not going?" she snapped.
"Exactly that. Your idiot brothers can make do with me quite well for at least one day, and I for one don't need to deal with their prattle all day long."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You promised you'd go last time."
"Yes, but I've changed my mind." He turned around and prepared to walk back to the fireplace to floo back to the office in time for his two o'clock meeting.
"Draco Malfoy, don't you walk away from me!"
"Oh? What are you going to do about it?"
She strode purposefully toward him, and as she approached it looked dangerously as if she were about to hit him. When she was within a foot or two of him, though, she stopped, and suddenly her eyes filled with tears.
"You said you would. You promised, and—and you know how Mum's being about all this, and she's going to be even worse today, and I've been throwing up all morning, and you can't even take an afternoon to talk to my bloody Mum?" She was yelling again by the end.
He knew it was wrong, but it still felt good to say, "I'm sorry, Ginny. I can't." It felt good to refuse her something, and part of him was sickened by it, but the part of him that couldn't deal with Molly Weasley's recriminations and not-so-veiled comments about men who wouldn't even marry the girls they impregnated—as if it weren't Ginny's choice too, and when had anyone been able to withstand Ginny when she really pushed for somehting?—and seducers of innocent daughters—ha!—just smirked and moved his limbs until he was standing in front of the fireplace with a pinch of floo powder in his hand.