Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did I would get my hair professionally done. Every day. For the rest of my life. So I wouldn't have to deal with it.
Alexandria J. Malfoy: It's great to hear from you again. I was like 'gosh just kiss' as well, and I write the thing
Rema: lol, I hate it when technology messes up as well, thanks for the review! I loved it
DCoD: thank you so much, your reviews are so nice, I want to see what a family dinner looks like as well
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"Draco, call on line two," Shelia paged over the intercom on the phone in his office.
"Excuse me for a moment, Minister," said Draco into the mouthpiece. He put the Minister on hold and hit the com to Shelia. "Shells, I'm on the phone right now. With the Minister."
"Yeah, well that's the French Minister on the line," said Shelia.
"Damn," said Draco. "Tell him I'll be right with him." He picked up the phone again. "My apologies Minister."
"It's quite fine, Draco," came Lupin's voice. "I hear you are busier than me with all sorts of projects and what not."
"A lot of what not," Draco agreed. "So, for now I have the initial building plans for the museum wing, and the rest should come together in the month."
"Very good," said Lupin.
"Until later, Minister," said Draco, preparing to hang up.
"One more question, Draco," said Lupin.
"Yes, sir?"
"I've been looking at a few statistics. While employment has risen drastically, it's not enough to support the English Wizarding World and no money has come into circulation. If this doesn't work, are you going to pull out? Don't take offense to this, but I will need to prepare if that is the case."
"I'm not pulling out," said Draco. "This economy will recover. That is a pledge I have made, and I will not leave until I see that it has happened."
"That answers my question," said Lupin, sounding relieved. "I shall let you go back to work now. Good day, Mr. Malfoy, and thank you."
"Good day, Minister," said Draco and he hung up and then rested his head in his hands for a minute.
It was Wednesday after the ball and while many corporations had promised to bring back businesses, nothing had happened so far. His team of financial and economic analysts had also shown that there was no change in the sunken economy, something that confused and angered Draco. He wished that it would either go up or even down, at least some response so that he would know if he was doing the right or wrong thing. But no matter what he did, the lines on the graphs remained steadily, depressingly low on the charts.
He had been at work from seven-thirty to nine pm each day that week, and he had been just as demanding on his employees. Shelia's usually smiling face was flat and tired, and Ginny's forehead was pinched in a continuous frown. He was hardly home, something which was frustrating Pansy, who was convinced he would fall sick from the constant long hours, but he didn't really have a choice.
He was running three new, upstart companies in England, was in charge of five more overseas, and had invested in a dozen others in the London area alone. Just looking over the progress of the companies was a hard day at work.
He ran a hand through his hair and picked up the phone, punching the line two button. "Bonjour, Henri," he said.
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It was three in the afternoon when Draco heard Shelia's extremely American cry of "Holla!" He looked up when she poked her head in his office.
"That was New Foundations," she said. "The first group of houses is done, and employees will be moving in within the hour!"
Draco let the smile light up his features; the good news was incredibly welcome.
"The press is already there," said Shelia.
"Damn," said Draco, the smile slipping from his lips. "Alright, get Ginevra. We're heading over now."
He grabbed his cloak as it was still March and although it had been warm for the past few days, the chill was coming back. He then checked his reflection in the mirror, pleased to note that his appearance was flawless. He headed out the door.
"Ginevra, we were supposed to be there two minutes ago!" he yelled in the direction of his business manager's office.
"Oh, hold your horses," she shot back, grabbing a deep green cloak and pulling it on as she walked up to him.
"Let's go," he said. He led the way outside and then they both Apparated to the new complex. Draco had only visited it once, when it was just an empty lot on the edge of Diagon Alley, but now it was a cute, little subdivision made up of one story houses the ideal size for a family of four or five. The houses were the exact same style and shape, and only came in white, blue, or brown, but the gardens were different and all quite original.
"They're beautiful," said Ginny. "And it is a perfect day for this."
"The sun does make a good effect on camera," Draco agreed.
"I meant that it was a good day for them to move in," said Ginny exasperated.
He knew what she meant; he just loved to aggravate her. She was right. There were a few white fluffy clouds in the light blue sky, and the sun was shining brightly. The wind was a little too cold, but overall it was a good first impression for the new residents of Janus Lane. Ginny had come up with the name. Janus was Latin, a god of beginnings and Draco thought it a fitting title.
The press was indeed already there, wandering around the uninhabited suburb neighborhood and taking pictures of the houses and gardens. They hadn't noticed Draco or Ginny yet, and for that he was grateful. He wanted to take in the scene before him and allow the sense of satisfaction to hit before he was worrying about how he looked and sounded in front of the entire wizarding public.
He had only been there two minutes when things turned ugly. The moving crew arrived in the middle of the street along with the first portkey of family belongings and possessions to be taken to the first house. However, before the first group was cleared off of the road, the second portkey arrived, dumping another family's luggage directly on the first.
"The hell-?" Draco asked starting forward as the moving crew tried to deal with the surprise arrival. There was compete confusion as the cameras zoomed in on the pile of mixed baggage and furniture. To make things worse, the families started arriving then.
"What's this?" an anxious woman cried, seeing her property crushed by someone else's. "That's my great grandmother's piano underneath that wardrobe!"
The movers went to levitate the large closet off of the piano, but another woman's screeched stopped them. "No! You can't use magic on it!"
The movers manually lifted the wardrobe off, a feat that took five of them, but as soon as they had done so, the third portkey group arrived, and now at least six different families were standing about the pile of possessions, looking on in horror.
"Ginevra, put your beautiful management skills to use," said Draco.
"What are you going to do?" asked Ginny.
"Find out who the hell is in charge here," said Draco, heading to a group of movers who were standing a little ways off of the group and yelling.
"Instead of every twenty minutes, the luggage is coming every two!" one of the movers shouted into a cell phone. "No, don't 'Now, Frank' me! I told you that the Rilla woman was no good. She had better be fired by the time I come back." Frank hung up the cell phone and then glared at the men crowded around him. "What are you waiting for? Start getting the shit out of there!" He turned his glare on Draco who was now next to him. "The hell do you want? Oh! Mr. Malfoy! Sorry, I didn't recognize you at first. Do you need anything?"
"Just wondering if you need any help," said Draco.
"Well, yes, but nothing that you would want to do," said Frank eyeing him dubiously.
"I've got nothing better to do except field questions from obnoxious reporters. I'd much rather do something to help." It was the truth; he had never been one to stand around while things went to hell in a hand basket. Plus, the reporters would just be hounding him with stupid questions about the mix-up and it really wasn't his fault.
"I s'pose," said Frank, realizing he was serious about the whole helping out thing. "You any good at levitation charms?"
"Passable," said Draco. He'd received an O on his charms NEWT's.
"You can help me," said Frank. "And here." He pulled off his company cap and tossed it to Draco. "I'm assuming you don't want the press to see you, and your hair is a rather obvious giveaway."
Draco smiled and shoved the baseball hat over his silver-blond locks and then shrugged off his cloak and robes, leaving him in black trousers and a black button up shirt, and tossed them next to a few miscellaneous pieces of equipment.
"Let's go then," said Frank leading the way down to the portkey point. By the time they got there, Ginny had worked her magic. The movers were now simply clearing out the area where the portkey would drop the stuff and placing it in piles, where Ginny would label which went to which house. She was also having more movers break up the piles into two groupings: what could be moved by magic, and what was too old or had repelling charms on it so they had to be moved manually.
"How much can you lift?" asked Frank. "Think you can handle one side of this piano?"
"I guess we'll find out," said Draco. He took one end of the piano, Frank the other, and on the count of three they lifted. It was a small piano, but still heavy and with almost no areas to get a good grip. They took several stops but finally made it to the first house where the new owner directed them where to put it. Draco set it down, feeling an immense sense of relief and accomplishment.
"Back out we go then," said Frank, rolling out tense shoulder muscles.
"Joy," said Draco. Frank just laughed.
They returned to the road to see that all of the furniture and belongings had arrived for the fifteen houses and were now sitting in the middle of the street in organized heaps. Ginny was helping the children find their toy boxes and then supervising them as they carried them into their new houses, wide grins on their faces.
Draco and Frank carried in two wardrobes, three sofas, another piano, a coffee table which was surprisingly heavy, two trunks and a kitchen table, all to different houses. Draco discovered that this was a great way to survey his handiwork. He was actually entering the houses and conversing with homeowners who kept up a pleasant dialogue as they directed them to specific rooms.
It was also entertaining to hear exactly what they thought of him, at least Frank found it entertaining. Sometimes he would even initiate the conversation saying thinks like "David here thinks that the Malfoy bloke is out to no good. What do you think?" or "Don believes Malfoy will save the wizarding world, what about you?" The first time he had done that Draco was so surprised that he forgot to watch where he was going and smashed his hand between the piano they were lifting and the edge of a doorway, bloodying the first knuckles of his middle and ring fingers and causing him to burst out in a few, choice French expletives.
"Sorry about that," Frank had told the shocked home owner. "Damon's not used to manual labor." He had then laughed heartily at Draco's expense.
The press had taped the duo carrying in the various furnishings without realizing that the very Draco Malfoy they were looking for to get a comment from was the young mover in the rather nice black shirt and pants and baseball cap. They had even interviewed Frank as he and Draco were carrying the coffee table, zooming in on Frank and Draco, who kept his head down in hopes they wouldn't recognize him.
And they hadn't; and Draco was beginning to think he might get away without being noticed at all because it was getting slightly dark out and he and Frank were carrying the last piece in, which happened to be another piano. However, they passed Ginny on the way over and the press was pelting her with questions about Malfoy Enterprises, as Draco Malfoy was absent, and she was obviously sick of it.
"How about you ask Mr. Malfoy," Ginny said, sweetly. Draco looked up alarmed and met her bemused gaze.
He shook his head furiously at her but she just smiled cheerily and said, pointing at Draco, "He's right there."
I hate you, he mouthed at her as the reporters whipped around to stare at him. He stifled a groan as they flocked over.
"Mr. Malfoy, how do you feel the move has gone today?" asked the first reporter who reached him, shoving a microphone to his lips and the camera man getting up in his face.
"I feel that it has gone well," said Draco, a little out of breath because he was hauling a large wood instrument around. "There was a slight mix-up in the beginning, but once we realized what was going on, we were able to fix the problem and things ran smoothly from there." His grip slipped a bit and he looked to Frank, who nodded. They set the piano down and Draco pulled off his cap to wipe off the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.
"What do you have to say about the economy which appears to not have been affected despite all of your efforts?" shouted out one from the crowd.
Damn, they knew how to ask the right questions. "These things take time," he said, resetting the cap on his head and nodding to Frank. They heaved up the large instrument and started for the house again. "You can't expect the economy to simply change in a week just because a couple hundred jobs opened up. People have to begin spending money again to circulate it, and I believe we will begin to see change after the first paycheck."
"Do you believe that the economy will recover?"
"If I didn't, I wouldn't be here."
"Why are you carrying a piano?"
Frank snorted; Draco smirked. "I felt I should help out and lend a hand," he said. They reached the front door. "Now if you'll excuse me while I set this piano up, I will be right back. I have a feeling that a horde of reporters trampling through the living room is not what these people need right now," he said.
There were a few chuckles and the reporters waited while Draco and Frank put the piano in the den for a family who seemed very surprised to see the gaggle of reporters outside of their house.
"I do not envy your job," Draco told Frank, stretching out his stiff back and neck.
"And I do not envy you yours," said Frank.
They stepped back outside.
"Mr. Malfoy, do you believe more companies will come back to England now that Malfoy Enterprises has opened up the market?"
"Yes, I believe so. Right now it is just a matter of when and where for many companies and I have received many promises from several incorporations that they would bring business back to Great Britain. Last question, please. I probably smell and am in desperate need of a shower."
There was laughter and then a voice called out, "What did you do to your hand?"
Draco looked down at his left hand and saw the dried blood and bruised fingers, which began to sting and throb as soon as he took note of it.
"Hazards of the job," he said. "I would like to thank Frank Rite for the excellent job his company has done and for allowing me to join him for the day." They shook hands. "And that is all," said Draco. "Here's your hat back," he told Frank, handing it to him.
"Keep it," said Frank smiling.
"Thanks," said Draco. They shook hands again and the press took more pictures. Draco stepped off of the porch and started down the lawn to find Ginny, the press following and snapping photos and calling out more questions.
"Do they ever stop?" Frank asked.
"No," said Draco. Ginny met him with his discarded robes.
"Going home?" she asked.
"For now," Draco said reaching for the robes, but she wouldn't release them.
"I'm coming over," she said.
"You are?" he asked.
"Pansy invited me. She figured if you had a guest over you might actually eat dinner."
"Did she now," mused Draco, eyes narrowing.
"Oh, come on. It's not a big deal," said Ginny. "Let's go, I'm hungry."
He smiled inwardly at her bossy tone. "Fine."
He pulled out his wand and Apparated to his house, Ginny appearing beside him a second later. Rolly was there in an instant.
"Master is home!" the elf squealed. "Is Master staying for dinner this time? Oh, Master has hurt his hand!" The excitable creature was practically jumping around.
"He's fine, Rolly," said Ginny, handing the elf his robes and cloak. "Where is Pansy?"
"Ms. Zabini is in the east wing library, Miss. Are you sure that Master is alright?"
"I'm fine Rolly," said Draco. "You can go now."
The elf disappeared and Ginny headed for the library, evidently knowing her way around. Draco followed her down the hall and entered the large, book filled room. All throughout the shelves and stacks of volumes were comfortable armchairs and desks. The front of the room was open with a low table, a sofa, a few armchairs and a fireplace. That was where Pansy was. She was sketching a new design for a room for her design company while overseeing Lida who was sitting at the low table working on her letters. Dragon was beside her, copying her attempts, and Amandine was asleep in a baby carrier set on the floor.
"Sweet Merlin," said Pansy to Ginny as they entered the room. "You got him home early. However did you manage that? It's just past five-thirty."
"Not my doing," said Ginny, as Lida ran over to him.
"Look at my letter, Uncle Draco!" she chirped. Draco obligingly squatted next to the girl and took the proffered piece of paper.
"Very good," he said, not able to decipher a word.
"It's for Daddy," said Lida, taking it back again. "Now I'm going to color him a picture of a unicorn. D'you think he would like that?"
"Very much," said Draco.
The girl went back to the table and Draco found Dragon staring at him. He smiled and waved at the boy, who grinned back.
"Is that Uncle Draco?" asked Pansy to her son. "Can you say 'Uncle Draco'?"
The boy didn't respond, though he stopped smiling.
"It's fine," said Draco, and the boy smiled again then launched himself at Draco. Draco was so surprised he fell from his squatting position onto his butt, but he managed to catch the boy. "Ooof," he grunted. "You're getting big."
The boy smiled and then climbed off his lap to go back to his coloring. Draco watched him and then turned to see Pansy and Ginny exchange a look and smile. He glared at them, which only made them smile wider and he gave up, getting stiffly to his feet and then collapsing into a squishy armchair.
"So why are you back so early?" asked Pansy.
"Because I need a shower," said Draco. "I've been lugging furniture around all day."
Pansy looked to Ginny for an explanation.
"The first fifteen houses were completed today and people began moving in. Unfortunately the moving company messed up the portkey arrival for all of the luggage and everything, so that every two minutes a new group arrived right on top of the stuff ahead of it."
"Are you serious?" asked Pansy.
"Completely," said Ginny. "What made it worse was then the families started arriving and saw all of their things being dumped on top of each other."
"What happened?" Pansy asked.
"I had them simply clear the things into piles by the side of the portkey point and then take the time to put them in actual houses," said Ginny. "And Draco here decided to go undercover and help them move around all of the stuff that couldn't be levitated."
"Undercover?" Pansy asked him with a grin.
"It wasn't undercover," said Draco. "I just didn't want to be hounded by reporters and I figured since I was there I might at least help out."
Dragon came back then, holding up a piece of paper. Draco pulled him up onto his lap and then took the page. On it was a blob of green and red crayon that was most obviously a dragon blowing flames. The shape was a little warped and the legs a little stubby, but it was a dragon.
"You drew this?" Draco asked. The boy nodded his head. "This is really good," said Draco, impressed. "Pansy, this is incredible."
"He's most definitely an artist," said Pansy. "I remember the first time we gave him crayons…," she trailed off, smiling at the memory. Draco turned back to Dragon who was tapping his arm.
"What's wrong?" Draco asked, noting the concern in the large, brown eyes. Dragon pointed to Draco's hand that was holding the picture, or rather to two of Draco's fingers that were bruised blue and although they were scabbed over, a few edges of the scrapes were still leaking fresh blood. "Oh," said Draco. "I'm fine. It's just a little scrape, is all."
"What's scraped?" asked Pansy. "Did you hurt yourself, Draco?"
Draco held up his hand and showed her the swollen fingers. "Nothing serious," he told her, but she held out her own hand. Sighing, Draco stretched out his palm and she took his hand in her smaller ones, examining the fingers.
"What happened?" she asked, prodding the wound.
Draco masked a wince. "Managed to catch my fingers between a piano and a door," he said, shrugging. Dragon's tiny fingers wrapped around his good hand as they watched Pansy look over his smashed digits. As a matter of fact, Draco's injury seemed to be gaining the attention of everyone in the room, and he scowled. "I'm fine," he said, trying to pull his hand back, but Pansy held on tight.
"Nonsense," said Pansy. "If you let me deal with it now, then it will heal that much faster. Rolly," she commanded. The house elf appeared with a pop.
"Yes, Ms. Zabini," he asked, staring at Draco's hand as well.
"Get me a bowl of warm water, a clean cloth, and a first aid kit," said Pansy.
"Oh, right away, Ms. Zabini. Right away!" squealed the elf. He disappeared and Pansy released Draco's hand, which he removed from her immediate area, to pull the table closer to him.
"You never used to be this fussy," said Draco.
"I wasn't a mother than," said Pansy. "You're going to have to let me fuss. It's how I show that I care."
"Touched, I'm sure," Draco drawled.
"I swear," said Pansy, shaking her head. "You and Harry both."
"Both what?" asked Draco suspiciously. "And why are you comparing me to Potter?"
"Both take way too much on yourselves thinking you have to save the world."
"I'm merely trying to save England," said Draco sourly. "The rest of the world can go hang."
"And you both refuse to take care of yourselves. Too bad neither of you are gay; you two would have made a perfect couple."
Draco stared, completely dumbstruck, his mind trying to fathom what exactly Pansy had just said. He most likely would have stayed like that, staring at her, had not a completely odd sound distracted him. He glanced over to see Ginny sitting on the floor next to Lida practically spluttering while trying not to laugh. She gave up and her hysterical giggles filled the room, prompting Pansy to laugh as well.
"The look-," Ginny gasped through her laughter. "The look on your face-priceless." She and Pansy went off into another peal of laughter, then finally died down when Rolly re-appeared with the medical supplies.
"Will Misses be needing anything else?" he asked.
"No, thank you Rolly, you may go," said Pansy, collecting herself. The house elf set the things down on the table and then left. Pansy knelt by Draco's side. "Give me your hand, Draco," she said, dipping the cloth in the bowl of water.
"No," said Draco, setting Dragon on the ground and crossing his arms across his chest. Yes, it was childish, but she had just not only suggested that he was gay, but that he hook up with Potter. Potter, none-the-less.
"Look, I'm sorry about the Harry comment, alright?" said Pansy. "It wasn't funny."
"I found it hilarious," said Ginny.
"Ginevra, would you mind going to my study and owling someone for me?" asked Draco. "She sent me a letter, and I don't remember her name, but she sent me her picture. Blonde, tan, twenty-five years old, pretty face and great body. Tell her I would love to meet her for dinner, and that I'm free over the weekend. Over the entire weekend in fact." He smirked as Ginny's face blushed scarlet.
"Fine, I get your point. You're not gay," said Ginny.
"Good," said Draco, smirking even more and uncrossing his arms. Pansy took advantage of his temporary distraction to reach out and grab his hand. "Hey-," he started, but she had plunged his hand into the water and began to scrub the dirt off. "Bloody hell!" he yelled, wrenching his hand out of her grasp. That had stung.
"Are you going to behave and let me see it?" she asked, frowning at him.
"Not after that," he said, bringing his fingers to his mouth to suck on.
"Eww, don't do that," Pansy scolded, trying to grab his arm to pull his hand away from his mouth. "If you actually let me see it, it won't hurt so much. Be a good example for the children."
He looked at the kids to see Lida watching him with curious blue eyes and Dragon staring at him with troubled brown ones. It looked like he was about to cry.
"Fine," he sighed, holding out his hand. She took it and gently began to wash the torn flesh; it still stung but Draco didn't say anything. He even managed to smile at Dragon.
"Well, you didn't break any bones," said Pansy, studying his fingers now that all the grime was gone, "but you did manage to jam your knuckles." She slathered a bit of healing lotion on the wound and then wrapped his middle and ring finger together in gauze. "You'll be better by tomorrow," she promised. "Now go take a shower, and don't worry about the dressing; it's water repellant."
"But you didn't kiss it," said Lida.
"What?" asked Draco confused.
"When I fall down and got a boo-boo, Mommy has to kiss it to make it better," said Lida, as if this were obvious.
"'Kiss it to make it better'?" Draco asked, turning to Pansy for an explanation.
"It's what my mother did for me," said Pansy.
"Mine too," said Ginny. "A mother's kiss has a magic all its own and it is known to cure the most grievous of hurts."
Draco had no clue what the hell they were talking about, but Lida seemed extremely concerned, so he spoke up.
"But your mum isn't my mother," he told Lida. "So it wouldn't work."
"Well, then get your mum to kiss it for you," said Lida.
"My mother's dead," said Draco. Not that she would have anyway. He couldn't recall her ever giving him a kiss.
"Well then Aunt Ginny could kiss it for you," said Lida undaunted. "She doesn't have any kids, so her kiss would work on everyone."
Draco was speechless for the second time that night. He glanced over at Ginny whose cheeks were bright red and who was studiously staring at the floor. Pansy had her hand over her mouth partly in embarrassment, and partly because she was trying not to laugh.
"I think I'll be okay," he told the girl, standing up to go to his room.
She looked at him, clearly troubled. "I would kiss it for you, but I'm not grown up yet, so it wouldn't work," she told him, biting her lip in worry. "I don't want you to be hurt, Uncle Draco."
Aw, shit. She was going to cry. He couldn't cope with crying females, no matter what age.
"Oh, Lida, don't cry," said Ginny, pulling the girl into a hug. "If you want me to, I'll kiss Uncle Draco's hand all better, okay?"
The girl nodded and Ginny kissed the top of her head, then gracefully got to her feet. Draco suddenly felt his chest constricting and his heart beating abnormally fast. He swore time slowed as Ginny made her way over to his side, looking far too pretty for her own good in a tight navy sweater and a khaki skirt. She stopped in front of him.
"You, uh, you don't really have to…you know," Draco whispered.
"It's fine," she whispered back, her hazel eyes filled with humor and a good bit of hesitancy. They stood there awkwardly for a moment, neither knowing what to do. "I suppose I need your hand," said Ginny.
"Oh, yeah," said Draco, feeling a slight flush creep up his cheeks. His only consolation was that Ginny was practically scarlet, but she took his bandaged hand, her warm hands on his cold one, and bent her head over it. Draco's breathing hitched when her hair brushed against his bare skin and he stopped breathing altogether when her lips pressed against the bandage, once on his middle finger and once on his ring finger. A kiss through a bandage on his hand should not send his mind reeling like that, but it did.
"I suppose you should go get cleaned up now," Ginny said.
"Huh?" asked Draco, just realizing that she had straightened up and was looking up at him with amusement in her eyes.
"Shower," said Ginny.
"Oh, I know," said Draco. "I'm just waiting for my hand back."
She looked down to see that her hands were still holding onto his and her cheeks flamed red again, rivaling the color of her hair. She let go and took a step back; Draco found himself missing the warmth her hands brought. He nodded to her and left the room, opening the door with his injured left hand out of habit. Huh, he thought, his hand really did feel better.
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Well, what do you think? Please review, and thank you. (Ha! I was polite! Now you have to review! Muwhahahaha! that's evil laughter)