Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did I would sleep in 'til noon. Every day. For the rest of my life.
Thanks to Wizzabee: I hope that this one will make you laugh as well!
Also: Alexandria J. Malfoy: I'm glad you're loving the continuation, and I hope I updated soon enough for you.
And DCoD: Constructive criticism! Yay, thank you muchly, and I applied it. There's more Draco thinking in this one, and more bantering.
RER: Read, Enjoy, Review
---------------------------------------
"I expect you at work every morning at seven am," said Draco, as he strode through the streets of Diagon Alley. It was early afternoon and they had just gotten through customs.
"Seven?" asked Ginny, almost running to keep up with him.
"Seven, and not a second later, starting tomorrow," said Draco, not slowing down a bit. "You can go home at six, but I expect you to stay after if there is more to be done, and you will be staying after quite a bit. If you are not feeling well and are not coming into work, I want an excuse from the doctor. If you want free time, you need to schedule it three weeks in advance but if there is a meeting that day, you won't get off even if you schedule two months in advance. I'll give you Christmas and New Years off, and that's it for the holidays. I really do hope you realize what you got yourself into," said Draco, turning to look at her.
"What I got myself into?" demanded Ginny. "You practically forced-,"
"Not now, Ginevra, we've come to your flat."
"My what?" asked Ginny as Draco grabbed her hand and tugged her into the apartment building.
"Your flat," said Draco. "It's a block from my office building. Let's go see if your luggage has come in." He led the way into the elevator. "Sixth floor," he said and the elevator took them up. Draco stepped to the door bearing the numbers 612, and pulled out a key. He unlocked the door, gave her the key, and walked in, Ginny following behind him.
He watched her as she explored her apartment, a look of shock and pleasure on her face and his lips quirked up into a smile at her astonishment. All of her belongings had arrived, minus her old furniture. That had been replaced with newer, more expensive sets. The living room was done in shades of cream, grey, and periwinkle blue with navy armchairs and a sofa. The kitchen was the same pastel blue as in the living room, but with pale yellow accents. She had a small study done in earth tones, a bath done in dusty rose and off-white, and her bedroom which had a rich cherry hardwood floor with oriental rugs and a four poster bed with a matching comforter and cerulean blue bed curtains.
"You do realize that I will most likely never have time to be in here," said Ginny, coming out of the walk in closet. "So all of this is wasted."
"Perhaps," said Draco, still smiling because she was smiling.
"Where are my clothes? They're not in the closet, or do I have to unpack them myself?"
"I had them thrown out."
"What?"
"You're getting a new wardrobe."
"I'm what?"
"You heard me. You are now the business manager of Malfoy Enterprises; I can't have you run around looking like you did in Hogwarts with second hand robes and all."
Her expression hardened. "You sure know how to ruin the mood, don't you Malfoy?"
"It's Mr. Malfoy now," said Draco. "After all, I'm your boss." He knew he was exasperating her; it was a reflex because for a moment she was smiling at him, and he found that he liked it.
"Very well, Mr. Malfoy," she snapped. "Who the hell gave you the right to go throw away all of my clothes? I happened to be very attached to some of my things."
"You'll get over it," said Draco, shrugging. He felt better now that she was angry at him; he was used to this reaction.
"I do not believe this," said Ginny, shaking her head in helplessness. "I do not bloody believe this."
"No swearing," said Draco. "It's not good for publicity. Only I'm allowed to swear."
Her eyes narrowed and she looked at him with such an infuriated stare that for a split second he thought she would hex him, but then someone stepped out of the fireplace and both of them turned to see Pansy Zabini holding Amandine. To Draco's surprise, Ginny broke into a smile.
"Hello, Pansy. What are you and Mandy doing here?"
"I'm here to take Draco's new business manager shopping. I didn't know he meant you," said Pansy. "When did you quit your job in France?"
"Three hours ago," said Ginny. "I suppose you could say Malfoy abducted me."
"You could say that Mr. Malfoy abducted you," Draco corrected her.
"That albino git with the oversized ego barged into my office, blackmailed the Minister into firing me, hired me and then decided to throw away all of my clothes because he didn't feel they were up to his oh-so-high standards," retorted Ginny. "And when I am not working, I shall address you the way I please, ferret."
Draco blinked; he had not been expecting that. He knew that she had guts, she was a Gryffindor after all, but to blatantly insult him like that took a fearlessness he didn't know she possessed.
Pansy laughed, then threw Floo powder into the fireplace. "Let's go before Draco throws a temper-tantrum."
"We don't have to hurry. His brain is still trying to process what I just said and it will take a good while before it sinks in."
"Belladonna's Designs," ordered Pansy.
"We're going to Belladonna's?" Ginny asked.
"He's paying," said Pansy. "Come on."
The two witches disappeared into the flames and Draco tugged on his hair. Suddenly he wondered if it was such a good idea to have Ginny as his business manager; she would no doubt drive him insane. He left the apartment, locking the door behind him with his own key. He had one more stop to make that afternoon.
----------------
Twenty minutes later and he was standing outside a rundown apartment building which had seen much better days. He entered, found that the elevator was out of service, and climbed seven flights of stairs. He knocked on room 703. He waited and then pounded on the door.
"Bloody hell," he muttered and crashed his fist on the wood. "Potter, I know you're in there," he called. "Open the door!"
Nothing. He tried the handle which turned easily.
"Potter, I'm coming in!" he shouted and opened the door.
The room he stepped into was dim and obviously wasn't used much because a layer of dust covered the pictures hanging on the white walls. There was a television, a coffee table bearing a few whiskey bottles (one of them still had a few sips left), and an unconscious figure on the brown, corduroy couch. Draco shut the door behind him and looked around him in surprise. He'd heard that Harry was devoted to his work as an Auror and only went home after a case, but he hadn't been expecting this.
"This entire visit to this bloody country has been a surprise for the worse," he muttered to himself as he crossed the room to the passed-out wizard. "Potter, wake up," he commanded. Harry didn't even flinch. "Fine, you want to do this the hard way?"
Draco found the bathroom, turned on the shower as cold as it would go and plugged up the drain in pure spite and then returned to the drunk Auror. He gently lifted his former classmate, so as not to wake him prematurely, and winced at how light he was. He made his way back to the bathroom and dropped his ex-nemesis into the frigid water and underneath the freezing spray.
Harry came to in an instant, giving an incoherent shout of surprise, and launching himself out of the tub. "What the bloody hell!" he yelled, staggering to his feet and whipping wet, shaggy hair out of his eyes and nearly losing his glasses in the process.
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," said Draco, shutting off the water and facing the shivering man. "How are you today?"
Harry blinked his emerald green eyes. "Malfoy?" he asked stupidly. "What are you doing here?"
"I was in the neighborhood," said Draco, shrugging. "Thought I'd stop by."
"What are you doing in the neighborhood?"
"I moved back. It seems the economy can't live without me." Draco studied Harry. There were deep, black circles under his red-rimmed eyes, his skin was pale, his face gaunt, and his hair was as unruly as ever, though that may have more to do with his impromptu shower. "You look like shit," said Draco bluntly.
"Yeah, well what do you care?" asked Harry, trying to brush past him and go back to the living room but Draco blocked his way.
"I'm here to save the wizarding world from depression and here is the very savior of the wizarding world himself depressed and drunk at three thirty in the afternoon on a Tuesday."
"I just got back from an assignment, give me a break," said Harry, pushing past him and stumbling slightly to the kitchenette. Draco followed him, watching as he pulled out a beer from the refrigerator, popped the top, and took a swig.
"The assignment which included staking out an old lady's house and arresting her grandson because he had the Dark Mark."
"I'm not even going to ask how you know that," said Harry self-righteously, "because I am an Auror and that's classified. Besides, he was meeting a bunch of other men and they were plotting something."
"That something was a prank to pull on the Muggles in the subway, and now all of them are going to be put under watch from the Ministry for a harmless prank and everyone is going to avoid them like the plague."
"He had the Dark Mark," said Harry. "I vowed to put all of the Death Eaters in Azkaban."
"He was sixteen when he got the damn tattoo. This is not helping things."
"Like you would know," accused Harry. "You just up and left didn't you? You ran away."
"I had business to do," said Draco.
"Business that took six years?"
"As a matter of fact," Draco began, but Harry cut him off.
"Don't even start 'as a matter of facting' me, Malfoy," Harry spat. "I thought that maybe you had started caring about other people, that maybe you actually wanted this country to get better, but no, you packed up your bags and we haven't seen you since. After your big talks about getting along and forgiveness and all that crap you spouted off, you didn't even bother to stick around to help make it work. But then again, you always were Slytherin like that weren't you, always looking out for yourself and let everyone else hang. So don't even begin to say that you had business, because the only job that mattered was fixing the giant rip in this country that the war created."
Harry ended his tirade by marching into the den and throwing himself onto his couch. Draco was left standing in the kitchen, his mind trying to wrap around what Potter had said. He had never thought of it that way. Oh, he knew he was a coward for running away like that, but the war, the death of his parents, the company and his new found popularity had been too much for a seventeen year old to handle, especially since the only one he could go to for advice was an anti-social, cynical Potions Master who hadn't even told him he was a spy. But he supposed his self-imposed exile hadn't helped things at all. He was the only one to stick up for those who had ties to the Dark Lord, and even though he had appealed to the people for justice, he hadn't stayed around to make sure that it happened. His plea for forgiveness must have been drowned out by his departure, and he had never even told most of them why he was leaving. He was partly to blame for this mess England was in now, and he felt guilt rear its ugly head.
He swore under his breath, in French because the words were so much more colorful, and then grabbed a beer out of the fridge, followed Harry into the living room, and slumped into a raggedy armchair.
"By all means, help yourself," said Harry, who was lying on his stomach with his head smushed into a pillow, but turned in Draco's direction.
"Thanks," said Draco. He pulled off the top and took a long draught; he was going to need it for what he was about to say next. "Look, Potter, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just left like that, and you are right to hold me responsible for what happened. I suppose that it is, well some of it at least, is my fault." His pride was harder to swallow than that cheap alcohol he had just downed, but now that the words were out he felt better, though he would not admit that fact to anyone.
Harry smiled and closed his eyes.
"Potter, don't you dare pass out on me," snapped Draco. Merlin, he had just apologized and admitted his faults for the first time in his life and he was falling asleep?
"I'm merely trying to commit all of this moment to memory," said Harry, his eyes still closed. "Draco Malfoy apologizing and confessing that he was in the wrong." He suddenly opened his eyes, frowned, and sat up. "Alright, who are you and what the hell did you do to Malfoy?"
"Potter, shut the bloody hell up and if you dare tell anyone about this I will not hesitate to hex you until the Boy-Who-Sodding-Lived is the Boy-Who-Wished-He-Didn't," Draco snarled. Dammit, he had apologized and he had the gall to laugh at him.
"There's the amazing ferret we all know and love," said Harry, grinning at him unrepentantly.
"What fates did I offend to deserve this?" Draco muttered, and drained half of the beer in a long gulp.
"So, as happy I am that you decided to come all of this way to apologize to me, I can't help but think that there is another, if perhaps slightly less important reason, to why you are here," said Harry.
"I don't think I'll tell you now," said Draco, trying to regain the upper hand.
"Fine with me," said Harry. "What I don't know can't hurt me."
"But it can't benefit you either," said Draco, getting exasperated. Honestly, he didn't know why he bothered with temperamental Gryffindors. America had been too kind to him; he had forgotten what it was like to verbally spar with real wits.
"Oh well," said Harry, completely unconcerned. He lay back down on his stomach again. Draco took another gulp of the beer, reveling in the fire that burned its way down his throat. He watched Harry awkwardly take a gulp of his own, which was quite a feat seeing as he was in a prone position.
"I own the Chudley Canons," he said.
"You can't own them," said Harry. "It's a national team."
"Fine, I'm its biggest sponsor. I hired the coach, and all of the players, England couldn't afford to keep it running so they let me fund it under their name. I practically run it."
"That's nice," said Harry taking another gulp.
"I want you to be Seeker."
Harry spewed out his alcohol and sat up choking. Draco watched bemused, one eyebrow raised, as the amber colored liquid drooled down his chin and neck, soaking his shirt.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I want you to be Seeker," said Draco.
Harry stared at him. "I'm an Auror."
"So? Quit."
"Quit? Just like that?"
"Yeah, something like it. Aren't you getting sick of arresting person after person, ruining lives and families all for the sake of a war that has been over for nearly six years?"
"I'm not that good at Quidditch," said Harry.
Draco snorted. "I'm a good Seeker, Potter, granted I'm a better Chaser, but the point is I had professional trainers teach me, and you beat me every single time. You're good. Good enough that is, but with a little training, you can be number one easily."
Harry wiped his chin with the back of his hand, staring at the floor. "I don't know."
"You don't have to know today. Here," Draco handed him his business card. "When you make up your mind, throw in some Floo, the card will either take you to my office or study; it all depends where I am. And don't lose that either, it's rather expensive."
Harry stared at the card. "What do you mean you were a better Chaser?" he asked.
Draco shrugged. "I was better at Chaser, but Lucius wanted me to be Seeker, to be the most important on the team. We used to have such terrific rows about it, throwing dark, illegal curses at each other and what not, but he always won in the end." Draco finished his beer and set the bottle down on the table. "I need to know by tomorrow, Potter. The team has to start training if we're ever going to win the World Cup. It'd be a lot easier if we had a great Seeker, so think about it." He stood and walked to the door.
"I'll think about it," Harry called after him. "And thanks Draco."
He turned at the door and smiled. "No problem Harry," he said and then left.
He made his way back to his office building as tomorrow he would be making an announcement to the press that he was here to stay and that he would be opening several businesses in the area. It was sure to be a hectic day and he had to make sure everything ran smoothly. Not to mention he had been getting owl after owl from companies who wanted funding and the Minister of Magic wanted to meet him to discuss a private matter at his soonest convenience and he still had to checkup on his companies overseas. Sometimes he thought it would just be better if he worked for his companies instead of managing them.
His office building was in the heart of the business sector of Diagon Alley. Here the buildings were much like those in Muggle London, though not nearly as tall. His was three stories and his office was on top. It was extremely professional looking, with white carpets and walls which were adorned with black and white photos. His large desk was deep mahogany and his chair black leather that faced the door. He had windows on each side of the room, one looking out into the rest of the floor and one looking outside, and both of the blinds were pulled shut.
He worked at his desk until his eyes wouldn't focus on the laptop screen in front of him. That was the marvel of modern wizard magic, the incorporation of Muggle technology into the wizarding world. Every wizard company, even the smallest ones, had at least one computer and phone line, thanks to himself and the company he had joined right after NEWT's. It had been pure gut feeling that he had partnered with the company in California that was merging the technologies and it had paid off.
He glanced at his watch; it was only seven in the evening. Normally, he would have continued working until nine or later, but he had traveled from the States, to England, to France and back again, and all of the different time zones was pulling a number on his internal clock. Not to mention the fact that all of the long distance portkeying really took toll on his body. He was stiff, sore, had a headache, and going home where he could collapse on a couch and fall asleep while watching the news sounded ideal. He packed up his laptop and a few papers and Apparated into the front entrance of Malfoy Estate.
"There you are," said Blaise, who came into the hall when he heard him arrive. "We waited to eat 'til you came."
"You shouldn't have," said Draco, surrendering his things to Rolly who would take them to his study. "What if I hadn't come home until nine?"
"Oh, we were giving you until seven-thirty and then we were going to drag you back," said Blaise leading him into the dining room, a large rectangle of a space with an ebony table with silver accents and matching chairs.
"I though I would just head up to my room," Draco told Blaise. "I'm rather tired."
"Nonsense," said Pansy. "Besides, we have guests." She gestured to Ginny and Harry who were seated at the table immersed in conversation.
"Why are they here?" asked Draco.
"Because Ginny and I ran into Harry on our way back from shopping and since he decided he would be your Seeker, I decided it would be grand to have them over and we could have a company party."
Draco looked over at Harry, who was now looking over at him. "You're going to be Seeker?"
"Yeah," said Harry.
"That was easier then I thought," said Draco. "Let me go owl Higgins then."
"You can owl him after dinner," said Pansy, steering him to the head of the table and sitting him in the chair.
"Thank you, mother," said Draco bitingly. Harry stifled a laugh; Ginny didn't bother. He glared at her. Blaise and Pansy sat across from the two Gryffindors on his left and dinner was served by two house elves.
"So Higgins is the coach then?" asked Harry. "How ever did you manage to get him?"
"Every man has his price," said Draco noncommittally.
"Wasn't he that coach that led the Tornadoes to the World Cup four times in a row in the eighties?" asked Pansy.
"Yeah," said Blaise, "but they never managed to win one of them."
"I read about that," said Harry. "They fired him after that."
"Which really was a shame," said Blaise, "he was such a brilliant strategist."
"Now they have that new coach," said Pansy. "The one with the dark hair." She looked meaningfully at Ginny and they both sighed.
"He is so handsome," said Ginny. "That picture of him in the Daily Prophet last week…" she trailed off.
"He has the most gorgeous eyes," said Pansy dreamily.
"Hey, you're married, Woman," said Blaise.
"Too bad," said Ginny. "I guess I get him now."
"No way," said Pansy, "you can't have him all to yourself."
"Fine, I'll share," said Ginny. "But only Tuesdays and Wednesdays."
"I can't believe you two," said Harry, shaking his head as he laughed, "splitting up a guy like that."
"It's girl talk," said Blaise. "I grew up with three sisters. You didn't have any did you?"
"No," said Harry. "I grew up with my Aunt and Uncle, and there was just me and Dudley."
"Dudley?" asked Pansy. "Is that a dog?"
Harry and Ginny laughed.
"No, my cousin," Harry explained. "He was this really fat, stupid kid."
"Sound like your friends in school, Drake," said Blaise, smiling at him and referring to Crabbe and Goyle. The four burst into laughter.
Draco shrugged. "They did what I asked them to, and never blabbed a word," he said. "And they weren't loud." He added that last bit on in a meaningful tone as his head was pounding and bed was sounding nicer and nicer.
Blaise laughed. "You'll have to excuse Draco," he told Harry and Ginny. "He was an only child and I'm afraid he may have been poorly socially adapted."
"You don't say," said Ginny. "Is that why he is glaring at us all?"
"Not at all," said Draco smoothly. "I'm glaring at you all because you have atrocious table manners." It was a half-truth. While their manners weren't excellent, they were by no means terrible. It was the miner slip-up here and there, like using the wrong fork or continually switching hands after cutting a bit of meat. Of course, Blaise and Pansy were both fine, but he had been taught proper manners since he was four and so he pulled off perfect dining etiquette with an unassuming grace that he knew was attractive.
"And I suppose that you are the epitome of manners," said Ginny, goading him on.
"Even if I was, I couldn't tell you because boasting about such things isn't polite," said Draco.
"Neither is commenting on the manners of your guests," said Ginny, smiling sweetly.
"Ohhhh," said Blaise and Pansy, looking at him expecting a come back.
"I never said I was polite," said Draco. "And you of all people should know that after spending part of the day with me packing."
"Yes, but I was going to attribute it to the fact that you were tired from your trip to England and then to France."
"How generous of you," said Draco. "Really too generous as you haven't received your first paycheck yet."
"And I see everything is money to you."
"And everything to you is about duty and devotion."
"How do you see that?"
"You are supporting members of your family aren't you?" asked Draco. "You were working at a job you detest to help them and now you have taken a job you hate even more. Seems to me that it is a burden, but one that is expected of you. Do you always do what you feel is your duty?"
"That is not duty," said Ginny, disbelief and repulsion in her voice, "that is love. Something that you obviously know nothing about."
She stared at him with disgust in her eyes and the rest of the table looked uncomfortably down at their plates, yet wondering with baited breath on what he would say next.
He didn't know what to say to next. He could think of things all right; he had several cruel remarks all lined up in his head, something along the lines of 'look where love got your family, too many kids and not enough cash' or 'it's stupid ideas like that one that created the lower class', but for some reason he held his tongue. He supposed she was right in a way; he didn't know much about love. His parents had surely never loved him, and he had no other relatives. Sev probably loved him, though he didn't know how to show it, and Blaise and Pansy loved him like a brother, but that was the only experience he had ever had with love. Some people would no doubt call that ironic, that he was so rich and yet so poor at the same time, and then they would pity him. He didn't see the big deal, because as he had never known love, he had no idea what he was missing, nor did he plan on finding out.
He looked down from Ginny's gaze, suddenly finding the rest of the meal unappetizing though he had only had half and he hadn't had a meal before this one, unless you counted a quick cup of coffee as he waited for the portkey to England. His cell phone rang, emitting an urgent sounding electronic melody. Draco frowned as he recognized the theme from Mission Impossible, that theme meant trouble.
"Excuse me," he said, scooting back his chair and standing. He tossed the napkin from his lap onto his plate while pulling the phone from his pocket and flipping it open.
"Malfoy," he said, holding the device to his ear.
"Draco, we've got a slight problem. Benington is pulling out."
"Shit," said Draco. "Hold on one moment, will you?" He didn't wait for an answer but covered the mouthpiece with his free hand. "I hope you will excuse me," he said formally to his dinner guests. "There's an emergency overseas that I need to see to. Please enjoy the rest of your evening." He inclined his head to the four and left for his private study while resuming his conversation.
He was off the phone at ten, and began more letters, including the one to Higgins. He didn't remember closing his eyes, but the next thing he knew, Blaise was shaking his shoulder gently.
"Come on, Drake, you need to get to bed."
He lifted his head, his unfocused eyes blinking rapidly to make sense of the shape moving in front of him.
"What time is it?" he managed.
"Eleven," said Blaise. "Everyone's gone now."
Draco felt Blaise slip an arm around him and help him to his feet. He let his friend lead him to his room.
"Thanks, Blaise," he said.
"No problem, Draco. What are best mates for, right?"
His friend's smile made him smile as he flopped onto his bed without bothering to change or crawl under the covers. Perhaps this love thing wasn't so bad after all.
---------------------------------------
Awwww, how cute. And that love is in a purely plutonic sense. So, what do you think of the chapter? Good, bad, ugly? It was kinda hard writing the Draco/ Ginny scenes, because it's hard to be witty at one in the morning, but I hope did okay.
Please let me know what you think! Please review! Please! Look, I've resorted to begging, pathetic, but I'll do anything for reviews…….sorta. Review!