AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, I have nothing better to do; I'm waiting for Germany to play Italy in the World Cup games, so I figured I'd post some crap to kill the time. So, here it is. Crap. Bye! Hope you like it; you probably won't. Oh well. C'est la vie!

DISCLAIMER: Not mine unless it is. All else belongsto J.K.Rowling.

Mistakes Made

Chapter Two: Pea Soup and Frozen Peas

Ginny could feel it. She knew it. And she didn't care.

She knew she was falling off the couch, but sometime after she had returned from work at the Ministry, she had lost all use of her standard motor skills, and was now in the mindless process of sliding like pea soup out of a dish at the dinner table into some old crony's lap like that night Auntie Ciliana plopped by for supper and Ginny 'accidentally' nudged her elbow at the right moment and consequently Auntie Ciliana never came plopping by again, much to Ginny's delight, stupid cow trying to make her wear fluffy bunny muggle bedtime slippers in the middle of July at a picnic, for heaven's sake, what was she thinking?

Yeah. That's how Ginny was sliding off the couch.

By the time her head had touched the ground, she was beginning to lose feeling in her arm, which she thought she might be sitting on, but couldn't be bothered to move her head to find out. But then there was a rap on the door, and she lost all concentration. Her nose twitched and sent her tumbling to the floor in a heap of flesh and bones and spare limbs she didn't seem to remember having before.

Draco ignored the intelligence-deficient blob of Weasley on the floor and waved his wand, opening the front door. Only one person had that stupid, froofy, girly tappity-tap-tap staccato-type knock.

"Pansy, where the hell have you been?" Blaise asked, appearing from the bathroom just in time to wrap Pansy Parkinson in a familiar hug. The girl wrinkled her nose at Blaise, making the excuse of closing the door so she could get away from him. "I hope you washed your hands," she commented, just short of performing a Disinfecting Charm on herself.

"And now you know why we don't let Blaise make dinner," Draco piped from under the kitchen sink, where he was trying to gain more knowledge of the elusive and ridiculous Muggle system of 'plumbing'. He didn't know what this big copper tube thing was, but he was decently sure it didn't have to be there.

Blaise ignored him. So did Pansy, for that matter. The well-built blonde woman glanced around the apartment. "Right, so where is my favourite resident of flat B12?" she asked. Draco snorted, poking at the round bit of metal. "With the rest of the dirt; on the floor," he snickered, before falling silent as he realized he was indeed, as Weasley told him three times a day (sometimes at the most inconvenient times), an immature, stupid git. No one wanted to be chastised when they were taking a shower, but now he thought he just might deserve this. He suddenly felt as if he should be hugging a teddy bear and eating cookies with milk and throwing temper tantrums and soiling his underwear.

Pansy picked up a bolt from the floor and chucked it at Draco's head, before turning into the living room and flopping on the couch. "Weasley, wake up!" she snapped, flicking the girl's ear with a long green fingernail. Ginny groaned, rolling over with a boneless, and yet clumsy grace. "Urgh, what the feck do you want, pug-face?" she growled sleepily. Pansy frowned. "Nothing you can offer, carrot-top," she snarled back.

Ginny was the first to smile. "Don't bet on it; I've got an awful lot to offer, Pans," she smirked, wrapping her arms around the blonde, who obligingly picked her up and set her back on her feet again, a task Ginny probably wouldn't have accomplished on her own. At least not until she found where her kneecaps were hiding.

Pansy grinned back at her. "There's the squirming octopus I love," she said, kissing Ginny's cheek. Draco's head peered slowly around the corner. Pansy glared over Ginny's shoulder. "No lesbianic love for you, Draco," she warned, leaning back and giving Ginny's cheek a pinch. Draco's head disappeared around the corner again and several loud thuds and clanks ensued. Swatting at Pansy's hands, Ginny ducked away and slammed face-first into Blaise's chest. Rebounding, she fell back on the couch, holding her face.

Blaise rubbed his chest. "Ow," he commented, turning back to Pansy. "Oi, what about me? Christ, don't be such a stranger, Pansy. How long had it been since you left?" he asked, picking her up in a strong hug. Pansy glanced around. Ginny was wailing something about a broken nose in the background, and what sounded like ancient cat vomit was spurting out of a pipe and into Draco's face, judging from the gargled obscenities.

"Not long enough, it would seem," Pansy said, arching an eyebrow.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Dinner that night was a spectacle. Draco beat Ginny to the shower, and the red-head spent a good deal of the night holding a bag of frozen peas to her face, glowering at Blaise whenever she could manage to open her eyes. Blaise was deep in conversation with Pansy, both bemoaning the Ministry's ban on Contraception Charms. In their opinion, the charms were a necessity in life, allowing for casual, promiscuous shagging without the possibility of any pitter-pattering about the house.

Blaise hated pitter-pattering.

"I mean, who can afford those things anymore? The charms, I mean, not the little brats," he clarified. "And even the few who can afford the blasted things are cut off at one a month," Blaise whined. Draco wasn't paying attention, as he was bustling around the kitchen in a frilly apron, preparing dinner, an activity he enjoyed far too much, in Ginny's opinion, for him to be entirely heterosexual.

The death of Narcissa Malfoy had hit her son hard. For the sheer fact that she hadn't taken Lucius Malfoy into the afterlife with her. And that Draco would receive no money until the long-haired old codger was dead and gone.

Blaise's parents were both still very much alive, and Pansy's parents were both still very much dead, to Blaise's disgust and Pansy's delight. It had initially been Pansy, with the money her parent's corpses had coughed up, who staggered away from the ick that was the Dark Lord Moldiewart, and bought the apartment. Blaise and Draco had followed.

For some god-forsaken, unknown reason, Ginny and Pansy became friends, proving that the order of the universe was indeed, sick, twisted, and wrong. So when Pansy took her 'little vacation', which lasted almost a year, Ginny stayed in her room at the apartment, much to Draco and Blaise's initial disgust, then delight, then disgust again as they realized she did not exchange household chore obligations for sexual favours. She said she'd rather clean out the toilet with her tongue.

As Blaise put it, what then, was the use of having a female roommate?

Draco set a steaming plate of chicken down in the middle of the table. "Eat," he commanded. The table was quick to oblige. Ginny finally lowered her bag of peas, as one hand shovelling food into her gob just wasn't fast enough. Pansy watched in disgust, her fork halfway to her mouth.

"Weasley, should we get a funnel, or would you prefer to attempt snorting the rest of the meal? Not that I doubt your nose is big enough, but the sound effects alone are discouraging for the rest of us trying to properly digest over here," Pansy said dryly, setting her fork down. Draco was chewing on a bone in interest, and Blaise was staring at Ginny, who opted to ignore them all and start chewing with her mouth open.

Dinner ended rather early that night, as everyone rather strangely lost their appetites.