CHAPTER 3

Ginny was sitting at a handsome mahogany desk in her London flat when a large eagle owl tapped on her window. She glanced up, wincing at the knot in her neck. It was Thursday afternoon and she had been reviewing her notes and writing for hours.

After relating the events of Monday morning to Lucy over lunch, she had spent some time reading over the intern stories before heading home. Since then she had been alternating between helping out with the interns and working from home.

"Hello there," she said to the owl, untying the letter and handing the bird a treat. The owl accepted, but did not move to leave, so she deduced that the letter must require a reply.

She examined the heavy parchment, perplexed until she noticed the green wax seal with an intricate letter "M" stamped into it.

"Ah. Malfoy calls." She slit the envelop open and read:

Ms. Weasley,

I am aware this is very short notice, but I have an unexpected opening in my schedule for this evening and would be available for questioning over dinner in London at the Château de Pâtes at 8 p.m. If you are unable to attend, I have a free hour on Thursday evening. However, if you are able to attend, please inform me immediately by return owl. Also, the Château de Pâtes requires formal dining attire. I trust you have something suitable.

Sincerely,

Draco E. Malfoy

She sighed and hastily scribbled a reply, begrudgingly accepting his invitation. She wasn't thrilled about the idea of having dinner with him. She wasn't one of the countless other women he cavorted around with and did not want her pictures splashed across the gossip section, but she had compiled more than two pages of questions she needed him to answer.

As she watched the owl leaving, she turned to her closet and realized a quick trip to Diagon Alley was definitely in order.

(A/N: New scene...)

Draco had just returned from his daily patient visitation rounds when his owl swooped through the open window. He failed to conceal an uncharacteristic grin when he read Ginny's reply.

As he skimmed the sentences a second time, he could almost hear her snarky voice in his mind, and for some bizarre reason, he found it immensely pleasing to know he was able to annoy the Weaslette with a simple dinner invitation. It seemed she despised him more if he was nice.

He was contemplating how her eyes would flare and how her hand would prop itself on her delicate hip if he brought flowers to their 'professional' dinner date, when his secretary popped her head in his office.

"Meeting with Mr. Thompson in half an hour at Diagon Alley," she reminded him.

He nodded and as Marjorie slipped back outside, he decided to pick up some flowers after the meeting.

There was something about Ginny Weasley that intrigued him. She was no longer the gangly, plain-looking girl he remembered from Hogwarts. Gangly, no, he thought, but definitely leggy…and curvy…and…

He sat up straight as he realized he had been thinking appreciatively of the Weaslettes body, momentarily disgusted. But he had to admit, she had become a rather attractive and successful woman. She even seemed capable of intelligent conversation, something Draco could not say of the most recent women he had dated.

Contrary to what the rumor magazines wrote about him, and he was well aware of what they said, he had never had a one-night stand or been involved with multiple women at the same time. Many women were too dramatic and vindictive for that sort of thing, and Malfoy's did not involve themselves with such blatant public scandal.

He had had two serious relationships since Hogwarts, and almost married one of them, until he had discovered she had been in league with a renegade band of death eaters hoping to create another dark lord. He did not wish to be involved with something like that again. His father had been enough of a tarnish on the family name.

Ah, the Malfoy name, he thought to himself, shuffling some paperwork around on his desk and recalling the usual argument with his mother.

"Draco, darling, you aren't getting any younger and you must continue the Malfoy line," she would argue."Can't you find one suitable woman to produce an heir?"

"Mother, I'm 26, not 56. And I do not wish to marry a woman who's sole purpose is to produce an heir," he would retort.

Their arguing usually ending with his mother arranging a date with one of the potential and single females she knew and found 'suitable.' His last date, (more than a month ago) had ended when the woman, drunk from all the wine she ordered during a dinner that she did not eat, invited him to her apartment then promptly retched on his new Italian leather shoes.

He shook his head disdainfully and as he finished up some paperwork he found he was thinking of Weasley again. He could not really imagine Ginny Weasley ever demonstrating such behavior. She was a redheaded Weasley with a house full of brothers, and he figured she would be able to hold her alcohol just fine.

(A/N: New scene...)

It was 7:30 p.m. before Ginny was finally presentable enough for dinner. She had made a mad dash for a formal dress that afternoon and was pleased to have found a long, emerald green, strapless satin gown in the second store she had visited.

She was slightly annoyed that Malfoy had selected such a formal restaurant. Probably thinks I don't have anything suitable to wear, she thought, finishing her simple makeup and using her wand to sweep her hair up into an intricate knot at the nape of her neck. She gazed at her reflection in the floor-length mirror and smirked.

"We'll just see how well his plan works when he sees me in this," she murmured to herself, gathering her purse and heading for the door. She had shrunken her notebook and pen to fit neatly inside her clutch.

She did a final assessment of herself in the mirror by the door and wondered vaguely why she had taken such care on her appearance. It's not like I have anyone to impress, she protested to herself. But even as the idea formed in her head, she knew it wasn't true. For some unknown reason, she wanted to impress Malfoy.

She was honest with herself enough to admit he was handsome. Even at Hogwarts she had found him somewhat attractive, as long as was sitting quietly and keeping his snobbish mouth shut.

But now she wanted to show him she wasn't the little Ginny from school, clad in second-hand, ill-fitting robes. She had worked hard to establish herself as a serious journalist, independent and mature. She felt comfortable in her skin and had grown to love her body. She would never be a size zero and she was glad. She loved her hips and average-sized breasts.

She was subconsciously pondering whether or not Malfoy would appreciate her body in this dress when she snapped back to her senses and realized she was early late. She smoothed a stray strand of hair back into place and disapparated.

(A/N: New scene...)

Malfoy had been impatiently drumming his long fingers on the black linen tablecloth for the past 10 minutes. It was now two minutes after 8 p.m. and he was almost certain Weasley wasn't going to show, when he heard a low voice near the maître d' station say his name. He glanced up and was momentarily speechless.

Ginny was making her way towards him, grinning slyly as he took in her green dress. It flowed at the bottom, but fitted snugly around her torso, even showing a tantalizing peek of cleavage. Her hair was swept off her shoulders, revealing even more creamy white skin.

Merlin, she looks good, he thought, standing up to greet her.

"You're late, Weasley," he said, pulling her chair out.

"Thank you, Malfoy," she replied, smiling to herself despite his rudeness. She had seen the way his stare had lingered over her body. He had been so focused on her, he hadn't noticed her careful appraisal of him. His charcoal grey robes accented his skin-tone nicely and she was grateful he had outgrown the habit of slicking his hair back. Now it looked soft, and there was a strand falling into his silver eyes that she wanted to brush away.

"These are for you," he said, remembering the bundle of orange tiger lilies he had picked up earlier, and handing them across the table to her.

She looked surprised and almost shy for a moment, before taking the flowers and placing them on the corner of the table.

"Malfoy, this is not a date. I don't know what you're playing at," she snapped.

"Mind your manners Weasley," he replied. "A simple 'thank you' would have sufficed."

She was about to reply when the waiter appeared at the table. Malfoy ordered steak and red wine. Ginny selected chicken and white wine.

"A 'thank you' would imply I was actually thankful for the flowers," she said, after the waiter had left.

"Every woman enjoys flowers," he protested.

"Not ones that clash with her hair."

"Fine. I'm sorry you can't appreciate a friendly gesture." He was becoming angry now.

"I prefer gardenias," she replied nonchalantly, taking out her notebook and pen and returning them to full size.

"Noted."

"Now, can we get back to the matter at hand?" she asked. He nodded, so she continued. "I don't usually use a quick quotes quill, but then again, I don't usually conduct interviews over dinner. So I must ask, is it all right with you if I use a quick quotes quill?"

"Don't those things tend to skew everything the interviewee says?" he asked worriedly.

"No, quills don't do that sort of thing, reporters do. What's the matter, don't you trust me?" she beamed evily.

"I trust no one," he said. "But I do know your editor, and the thought that I could easily get you fired for printing false information is comforting. So fire away, Weasley."

"You don't scare me Malfoy, not in the least. But we're wasting time," she said. "So, was the clinic your idea?"

"Not entirely," he started. "During one of the final battles of the war my friend Blaise was seriously injured. You remember him, right? He fought for our side in the end."

She nodded. She remembered the battle Draco was referencing. Charlie had been badly injured as well.

"Well, since then Blaise has been in and out of hospitals all over England and western Europe for rehabilitation therapy. I just thought it was silly to make people travel that far or to different and often inadequate facilities. These are people who fought against Voldemort to protect our way of life. It just didn't seem right to push them all over the place. I thought it would be better to build a clinic that was capable of catering to all of their needs."

"Charlie has had to deal with the same problems," she commented.

She continued inquiring about the finer details of the clinic; who designed the building, why the name of Dumbledore was selected, what he hoped to achieve with the clinic, etc. and had just finished when their dinners arrived.

"I think that will pretty much finish up the story about the clinic," she announced, slicing into her chicken.

"Good. So you know pretty much everything that I've been up too since the war," he interrupted, sipping his wine, "but I know nothing about you."

"Reporters don't usually talk about themselves, you know," she sighed.

"I know, but I don't really fancy sitting here in uncomfortable silence."

"I am rather tired of listening to your nasally voice," she shot. He glared at her for a moment, but held his tongue. "Oh all right. After the war the Daily Prophet was undergoing a massive overhaul, as you know. The paper was pretty much a gossip rag at that point. I always had a fierce curiosity and I'm fairly decent at writing, so I decided to apply. I was hired and I've been working there ever since."

"I'll admit I've read a few of your articles. They weren't entirely horrid," he replied, smirking.

"Thanks Malfoy," she said, rolling her eyes and continuing. "Other than work, I've been traveling some. Harry brought Hermione and me down to Australia to visit him over the summer."

"Oh let's not bring him into this," Draco snorted.

"Still jealous of Harry Potter?" she leered.

"Malfoy's are never jealous," he stated.

"Oh please! Malfoy you were so jealous of him at Hogwarts I almost thought you wanted to be!"

"I'm not even going to acknowledge such a ludicrous comment," he said as the waiter removed their plates.

"May I get you dessert?" the waiter asked.

"Yes, please. I'll have the chocolate mousse," Ginny replied.

"I'll have the same," Draco said, mildly pleased that Ginny was not the type of woman so consumed with her weight she was unable to enjoy dessert.

"What are you smirking about?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," he answered as the waiter brought their dessert.

Draco took a ginger bite of his chocolate mousse, and glanced up in time to see Ginny rather enjoying her dessert. Her eyes were closed and she seemed determined to lick every morsel of chocolate from the spoon. He was mesmerized by her actions and neglected his dessert to watch her savor every bite of hers. It was suddenly unbearably hot in the room and he was fighting not to sweat.

"Do you live nearby?" He asked as she took the last bite of chocolate. Her round eyes met his dark orbs.

"Excuse me?"

"I was going to offer to walk you home. It is what a gentleman would do," he grinned. "Did you have something else in mind?"

"No," she answered quickly, blushing lightly. "And I live about two blocks away."

He left some galleons on the table and stood. Ginny gathered the flowers and her purse and followed him outside.

They walked in silence for a while.

"Thank you for dinner," She said.

"You're welcome. And thank you for writing about the clinic."

"You're welcome."

It was strange not to argue with the ferret.

"This is my building, you don't have to walk me to the door," she said a little impatiently. Her feet were already throbbing from the walk. She had planned on apparating home.

"I insist," he said, holding the door open for her.

"What did I tell you about sensible shoes?" he said when he noticed her fidgeting in the lift.

"Shut up, you know-it-all prat," she growled.

They were standing outside her door when she remembered she still had another story to write.

"We'll need to set up a couple interview times for the personality part," She announced reluctantly.

"If you must. I'll owl you."

"Malfoy, I thought we went over this? I'm not jumping at your every whim!"

"Yes Weasley, we have been over this. I am very busy. You are not," he sneered.

"I'll owl you tomorrow with my available times. Now stop shouting."

"Fine! Hold these!" She was fumbling in her purse for her keys and had flung the flowers at Malfoy. "I don't know why you brought me flowers anyway. Meeting with you is strictly professional. Hopefully, no one saw us leaving the restaurant. I don't want my picture displayed in a gossip magazine as another one of your little tarts," she finished, finally uncovering her door key.

"Pardon?" His voice was dangerously low and dripping with venom. She looked up to see an angry red tint on his cheeks.

"You heard me," she replied recklessly. "Last weekend I saw you out with that blonde slag, and now tonight you're out with me. Great, I'm sure the gossip will be festering tomorrow."

"Are you talking about the woman I was with when you caught your pathetic boyfriend cheating?" he hissed, dropping the flowers. He was undeniably angry now, inching closer to her. "That was my mother."

"Your mother?" she laughed cruelly. "Oh please! At least have the decency to be honest!"

"Don't you dare call me a liar!"

"I'll call you whatever I see fit, you insufferable arsehole!"

"Merlin, you're an infuriating bint!"

She opened her mouth to launch another insult at him, but in one swift move he had pinned her against the door, his arms around her slender waist and his lithe body pressed into hers. He looked fiercely into her eyes for a moment and recognized the murky darkness for the lust it was. She reached her hands up and tangled them in his hair, pulling his lips crashing down to hers.

It was a passionate kiss that surprised both of them, but neither pulled away. His hands cupped her face as his tongue slid across her bottom lip, requesting entrance.

She opened her mouth and groaned softly as his tongue sought hers.

When he felt the silky vibration of her moan on his lips, he slipped his hands down her back and pulled her body closer to his. When she wound her hands around his waist and pressed herself against his arousal, it was all he could do not to rip her dress from her delicate frame and take her right there against the door.

The sound of her phone ringing on the other side of the door brought them back to their senses. She reluctantly pulled her lips away from his, not sure when her leg had wrapped itself around his bum.

"I-I should answer that," she stuttered, smoothing her dress and retrieving her keys from the floor.

"Yes, you should. I'll owl you tomorrow," he breathed, handing her the flowers he had dropped moments before. She noticed his hair was mused and his shirt was slightly un-tucked.

"Goodnight," she said, smiling nervously.

"Goodnight, Ginny." He pulled her to him quickly then, for a chaste kiss. Her eyes were still closed when she heard him disapparate.

She fumbled with her key, finally opening the door as her answering machine came on.

"Ginny? Darling? It's nearly midnight. Oh I do hope Draco Malfoy hasn't done something terribly dreadful to you! Call me the moment you hear this!" Lucy's worried voice echoed through the apartment.

Ginny leaned back against the door and let her body slid to the floor.

"The only thing Draco Malfoy has done to me tonight is snog me senseless," she whispered to the room.

It was then she realized he had used her first name before he left. She touched her lips lightly and smiled.