***At last! Let's get this romance rolling! Thank you for your reviews, especially Lady Mischief and ManonVarendaz! And J K Rowling, I salute you for creating all of this wonderful universe. I am delighted to borrow your characters!***

Chapter 6

Ginny walked briskly into the Daily Prophet building and looked for the meeting room. Only her white knuckles as she clutched her bag with her notes, extra parchment, and Quick-Quotes Quill, betrayed her anxiety about this first staff meeting. She had no idea what to expect, and so had decided to come early. She was wearing her plainest robes, hoping perhaps that they would act a bit like a disillusionment charm and make her blend in with the chair, though of course, red hair did tend to make that a bit tricky. What if the other journalists did not accept her, or questioned her writing credentials?

She passed them as she searched for her floor. They were all extremely busy, energetic people. Some were scribbling notes on parchment at their desks. Others were talking very quickly among themselves using jargon that she had only learned a few days ago. Owls swooped in and out through the windows so often that it was difficult to see across the room. A number of witches smiled warmly at her, though, as she made her way toward the meeting room. One gossipy and very chatty witch came up and introduced herself, (Grizelda Greenhorn,) and asked Ginny if she wouldn't like to get something off the tea cart before the meeting started. Then she began peppering Ginny with personal questions. How had she decided to take up journalism? How did her family feel about her decision to go back to work? What advice would Ginny give to other working witches with kids?

"Wait just a minute! Are you interviewing me for something? Because-"

"Well, of course I am, dear! Didn't Codswallop tell you? I always do an article on new members of the staff. Builds interest in reading your column, and all that. Plus it's loads of fun for me because I get to meet all the newbies. What's your favorite sweet, by the way? Gives readers the sense of really knowing you when I put in the little details, you see."

"Oh, well, uh, chocolate, I suppose. Chocolate frogs, and well, all kinds of chocolate, really."

Ginny was grateful when the other witches and wizards started filing into the room and her tete-a-tete with Ms. Greenhorn was interrupted.

Ginny tried not to squirm in her seat. She glanced down at her notes from the workshop she had attended over the weekend. She had been given a crash course in journalism, and it was much more involved than she had imagined. She would have to personally interview loads of people. Just sending a few owls and working from her own memory while at the kitchen table would not be acceptable. And there were all kinds of rules about citations and disclosure and objectivity. "Does anybody here actually follow the rules, anyway?" Ginny wondered silently, thinking of the sloppy interview she'd just been subjected to.

The actual staff meeting was not that exciting. Codswallop praised various people for particular things. One witch had submitted her assignments early all week. Another had written something particularly successful. Someone had cleaned up the feathers from a major owl collision in the editing room without being asked. Then she reminded them of several upcoming events, asked for improvement in getting more detailed stories with juicier facts. She wanted everyone to catch their sources off guard with unexpected questions and to dig deeper, she said. Finally, everyone pitched several story ideas and after some brief discussion, received instructions on what to work on.

Ginny had not come prepared with any pitches, but Codswallop had something ready for her. Apparently, the English National Quidditch team had a new owner. It had just been bought in a very quiet deal by- wait for it- Draco Malfoy, of all people. Well, this was going to be interesting! This would be a huge story. Why had he bought it? How much did he pay for it? Would there be any changes? Would England's dismal record improve, since it could not, at this point, get much worse? She would need to interview the old owner, several of the team members, and Malfoy himself, of course. Since it was her first big assignment, Codswallop would expect Ginny to send in her notes by owl for special feedback and comments. And then the meeting was over, and Ginny was about to go home, but Codswallop asked her to step into her office for a moment.

"Hang on, Mrs. Potter! I have another assignment for you, as well. But it's special. This will be the scoop of the century if you can pull it off! When you interview Malfoy, you can write two articles instead of just one. The entire wizarding world wants to know more about how his wife died. Very fishy circumstances, if you ask me! But he stubbornly refuses to speak to any reporters about the accident. They even turned us away from the funeral, if you can believe it! But you got in, didn't you? Yes, Witherby-you've met today, haven't you, our funerals and scandals staffwriter- he tried to attend and noticed you going in. My dear, I don't know how you did it, but it's perfect! You're the only one who can get this interview, and I'm counting on you! By the way, we expect Malfoy to be at the UK Quidditch Charity Ball tomorrow night, of course, and it's the perfect chance to talk to him. I have tickets for you. You've attended this kind of event before, I'm sure. Formal attire and all that."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ginny's head was spinning, and not just because she had been travelling by floo powder. She felt overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. She had an inexplicable urge to go and have a wash. She had no particular sympathy for Malfoy, but Codswallop seemed so slimy about the whole thing. On the other hand, though, what had really happened to his wife?

Putting aside her objections for the moment, Ginny thought about the practical questions. Her only evening gown that fit was the one she had bought while shopping with Hermione. It would be nice to bring Hermione along for moral support, she thought, and Hermione had promised to go out with her wearing their new dresses whenever she asked. But unfortunately, Hermione was currently out of the country, pursuing her work on the Djinn Liberation Front.

Just in case, Ginny sent off an owl to Hermione anyway: "Any chance you can make it back in time for a charity ball tomorrow night? I could use some backup. -Ginny"

She thought about asking Harry, but decided against it. He had been staying at his new apartment for a few days now, and she wanted to prove that she could manage on her own, atleast until the planned family dinner on Sunday. Taking Ron to the ball would be impossible. He would probably insult Malfoy before she could even think about doing an interview. George might go with her, but would it be awkward? She had been so distant for the past several years and felt guilty about it. And what of her other friends? Ginny wished she had kept up with Luna or anyone else. Taking care of Harry had been so absorbing that all her other friendships had slowly withered away, and now she felt alone and resentful. Ginny pushed this issue out of her mind as well. She was tired of crying about the past. That was a wound to heal and a problem to solve on another day. At the moment, she had to focus on this new job that was going to take up far more of her time than she had anticipated. And it looked like she would be attending a ball on her own tomorrow.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ginny's new dress was very flattering, but slightly plain on its own. She pulled out her flashiest piece of jewelry, a flame-colored opal pendant, and clasped it around her neck. The combination was perfect. She would charm her way through the crowd at this charity ball, and maybe she would enjoy herself too!

"Mum, wow! Can't I please come?" Lily complimented and whined in the same breath. (She was a precocious little girl, wasn't she?)

"Lily, you know it's going to be dreadfully boring. Lots of grownups standing around and discussing boring things and going home with sore feet. You'll have much more fun with Daddy tonight, I expect. What about that mystery pet, by the way? Aren't you going to tell me what it is yet?"

Crack. Harry apparated into the room. "I got your Owl, and I'm here to collect my little princess!" he said, swinging Lily into the air and twirling her around. "I hear there is an exclusive ball for royalty and children only at Meadowlark Castle. Come join me?" Lily giggled and agreed. "Gin, you'll never believe my news. How about you meet me tomorrow for lunch so I can catch you up?"

"Oh, sure Harry. Thanks for taking Lily! And then I can tell you all about this crazy new-" Crack. They had gone. "-job I have... Or not. What I have to say doesn't matter that much to you, though, does it?" Ginny stifled a growl, and finished getting ready for her evening.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ginny was still afraid to apparate on her own for now. She had arrived at the ball by floo, since she felt she could at least manage the spell to dust away the soot. The ball was held every year at the mansion of a very rich and benevolent old quidditch fan who loved being the center of attention, and the proceeds were used to provide broomsticks for children in underprivileged wizarding families. The ball was also an important social event for networking and recruiting in the world of UK quidditch. All the most important players, team managers, referees, coaches, sponsors, vendors, publicity managers- everybody who was anybody in quidditch- tried to be there. Ginny had come in the past when she played quidditch herself. That was before her children were born, and before all the trouble with Harry. If only she could have written her past self a letter; what a lot she would have had to say!

She began greeting different people she recognized. It was actually rather fun to be out on her own, she decided. She appreciated the freedom to be herself without being in Harry's shadow. And the room was so full of good looking wizards. She was having trouble controlling her stares.

"Lee, my goodness it's wonderful to see you! What are you up to these days?"

"Why, Ginny, you look great yourself! And I think it's terrific that you're here. Really commendable of you. Excuse me a second. Terribly sorry."

A moment later: "John Sanderson, what a spectacular play you made last week! A pleasure to meet you at last. Ginny Potter. I'm a sportswriter for the Prophet now."

"Why thank you very much! I'm flattered. You've made some pretty good plays yourself, as I recall Mrs. Potter. I, er, oh- May I just say how terribly sorry I am? Such a blow. Forgive me, I was just going over to get something to drink."

Several strange and incomprehensible interchanges like these made Ginny begin to wonder if she was coming down with dragon pox. Puzzled, she made her way over to get a drink herself. And there she finally caught sight of Malfoy. He still looked a bit gaunt, but much better than at Astoria's funeral. Now, how to approach him without being completely awkward?

But she needn't have worried. He approached her first. "Hello, Ginny. (May I call you Ginny?) I didn't expect to see you here. But I have been hoping to find a chance to say how grateful I am. Albus has been writing to Scorpius almost every day while he's away from school. It has helped him a great deal. Thank you."

"Has he really? I didn't know that. Well, it looks like they have become real friends, haven't they? Good for them that they haven't been caught up in their parents' old rivalries. And how is Scorpius doing, then? You said he is still at home?"

"Yes, I haven't sent him back to school yet. Not ready to sit through classes and write two feet of parchment on hinkypunks or whatever blasted creatures they're studying at the moment. He'll catch up later."

"It must have been a terrible shock for him, of course."

"Yes. For all of us."

"I'm so sorry." Why was it so easy to talk to him? He seemed quite changed from the angry, spiteful, petty little boy she went to school with. "Er, Malfoy,"

"Please, call me Draco."

"Er, yes, Draco then...This is going to sound bizarre, but... I recently started work as a sports columnist for the Daily Prophet. The real reason I'm here tonight is to ask you about the English National Quidditch Team. Would you be willing to do an interview?" Draco's lips curled up in a look of faint bemusement. "No, really, I am. Look, our sons are best friends now. I'm not interested in writing some horrible story about you or making you look bad. I will be perfectly fair," When Draco still didn't say anything, something clicked for Ginny, and she said, "And I promise not to put in anything about your private affairs. I'm not going to ask you about anything except quidditch," she finished.

"How very Griffindor of you! I'm sure you mean it, too." Draco sighed. "I had heard a rumor that you had been hired at The Prophet. And the team could really use some good publicity right now. I'd be glad to let you interview me- I doubt I'll get any other offer so fair- Only, I doubt you'll want to keep working there long after tonight. There is something you need to see. I assume you haven't seen it yet since you're still here." Ginny's face was blank. "You really don't know what I'm talking about, do you? This is an awkward place, but...Here, let's go over to the little patio where there aren't so many people."

Ginny couldn't help feeling a sense of dread, but followed Draco anyway. There were some wrought iron chairs by a a small garden with terraced ferns and a fountain and a little statuette of the recently deceased Ludo Bagman in his Wimbourne Wasps robes, holding his beater's bat. This was a bizarre mansion, in many ways. But Ginny forgot all about critiquing the decor when Draco pulled out a newspaper. It was the Daily Prophet's Evening Edition Society pages. Ginny never bothered reading it, usually. It was always filled with gossip and scandal. Her eyes grew wide as she saw the picture on the front page.

It was Harry. Harry and a young man, blond, perhaps only twenty years old. They were standing in the street somewhere, and snogging, completely oblivious of the camera- or anything else, in fact. Ginny's empty martini glass suddenly exploded in her hand.

"Harry Potter- Gay?" ran the headline. "Harry Potter and Rory Wood, a recently trained Ministry auror, were seen in public together after work today. Wood is the younger brother of Potter's former Hogwarts quidditch captain, Oliver Wood, sources say..." Ginny abruptly sat down.

"I'm sorry to be the one to break the news. They've rushed it to press without even bothering to talk to you, I see. Fuckers."

"Excuse me. I need to go and...compose myself... Please, I-" Ginny turned her face away to hide the angry tears that had come flooding into her eyes. She had thought that she would be prepared for this, but nothing can adequately prepare a witch for the first sight of her husband passionately kissing another wizard.

Of course you do," said Draco, politely looking away, "This is damned awkward. Stupid of me! Let me get you a drink."

"No, really, I just need a moment." Ginny turned and furtively scanned the room behind them, then abruptly her back to the doorway and hid her face. "Oh, Merlin. It's their scandal reporter Witherby right over there. I've got to get out of here before he sees me! Listen, Draco, I don't think I can apparate right now. Can you please take me out of here by side-along? Now?"

Without a word, he had pulled out his wand, put his hand on Ginny's shoulder, and turned on the spot. Crack. They were in a mostly gray sitting room somewhere. There were chairs, a sofa, a glass table, a Persian rug, a piano.

"Thank you. It just caught me off guard, is all. I will not give Witherby the pleasure of skewering me next. Bastards!" Tears began again. "Where are we, anyway?" Ginny asked as she caught her breath.

"I brought you to my place. It's connected to the floo network, so you can get home easily from here."

"Thank you. I... I don't know what to say. You've been very kind. You'll be needing to get back soon. I can just-"

"Not until you let me get you a drink first. Tea or firewhiskey?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Draco winced. "Ginny. I'm a broken man. You are the first human being who hasn't shunned me since Astoria's..." his voice trailed off. "Now, don't be stupid. You need a drink. Anyone would in your position. Tea or firewhiskey?" Ginny just stood there. "Do you think I would just keep poison lying around in my sitting room? After what happened?!"

"I think I should go."

"Forgive me. I didn't mean to shout. Please. Firewhiskey, then, for both of us?"

Ginny sat down. She herself wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it had something to do with the thought of the empty house waiting for her at home. Maybe it was simple curiosity. Or that hearing her first name pronounced in baritone by anyone other than Harry Potter was, at this particular moment, hard to resist.

Draco poured out two glasses of firewhiskey and handed one to Ginny.

"Thank you," she said, "So... did you know? I mean, back when we were in school- did you ever suspect Harry was gay?"

"Ha! Potter? No, no idea. I was way too busy plotting to destroy him to bother about that kind of thing. I mean, think about it, though, all of us had seriously bizarre childhoods. The Dark Lord," (Draco shuddered involuntarily,) "He stole them from us- from me just as much as from you."

"Yeah, he did. That's what Harry said, too. He didn't figure out he was gay then because he was too busy just trying to survive. This is so surreal talking to you about it, though."

"It is!... So how long have you known, then? Not long, I'll wager."

"Since the Hogwarts term started." she spat out bitterly. "He's only just moved out into his own flat this week."

"Damn." The two of them sat in silence for a little while. "You know, a few years ago, I'd probably have done a jig to see an expose' like that on Potter. I'd probably have paid them to fabricate it, honestly. What a waste! Isn't there anything more useful for the Prophet to do than tailing people and publicizing all their private affairs? Do you want another?" He refilled their glasses.

"Why are you so changed now, then? If you really are changed, and not just setting me up for some horrible expose' of your own..."

"You still don't trust me."

"I don't know. I'm sitting alone with you in your house, aren't I? Telling you about my wrecked life. But no, I'm not sure I trust anyone right now."

"I suppose that's fair."

"By the way, this room doesn't look at all like I would have expected Malfoy Manor to be."

"Ha! That's because it's not Malfoy Manor. I moved out of there. Couldn't stand being in the place any longer."

"It reminded you of Astoria?"

"Well, that, and... you see... After the defeat of the Dark Lord, we all swore off anything to do with him. Mum and Dad were completely disillusioned. After that, life was all about 'the Malfoy Family.' The Manor became like a shrine to our family history. Old family artifacts lying about. We commissioned new artwork to commemorate Malfoy ancestors. Merlin, you saw the family chapel, didn't you?" he ran his fingers through his hair. "We told ourselves that Malfoy was such a great pureblood family, we never needed Voldemort in the first place, you see? But the dark arts were still part of the family history."

Draco stood up and began to pace distractedly. "I never questioned that. And my mum- well, all of my family, really- they blame Astoria. She wasn't 'Malfoy enough'! She 'should have known' not to touch Great-great-aunt Clothilde's comb. My God! Why in the bloody hell did we keep dark objects in the house at all?! What if it had been Scorpius?" He continued pacing in silence for a moment. His hands were clenched, and his face had taken on that blanched pallor that Ginny had noticed before. "So I made sure she got the traditional Malfoy funeral. The full rite! And I moved out of that accursed manor. Mother can keep her dark objects if she likes. If I ever go in there again, though, I'm destroying them all!" His expression was dangerous.

After several moments, Ginny prompted, "And then you bought a quidditch team."

He smiled weakly and sat back down again. "Yeah. Only wholesome thing I could think of. It'll be quidditch for me and Scorpius from here on out."

"Draco, I..." Ginny caught his eyes. "I'm so sorry. You're a good man."

"Thank you," he said, his voice almost a whisper.

They held each other's gaze for an impossibly long moment.

Finally Ginny said, "Well, how about that pot of tea, then? I'll get it- lady's privilege- and then we can plan what to do about that bloody newspaper."

Draco smiled then, a real smile. "You're lovely."