A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to update! I've had midterms and all sorts of nonsense going on. However, starting Friday I'm on spring break for a week, so expect at least a couple more chapters sometime very soon. Hope everyone is enjoying the story. Reviews are always appreciated!

Chapter 4

It was 4:00 p.m. Friday afternoon and Ginny stood stretching over a length of parchment in the office she shared with Lucy at the Daily Prophet. She had spent the day going through her notes from the previous evening and working on the clinic story. Occasionally she would pause, a dreamy look crossing her face as she reminisced about the kiss she had shared with Draco.

At the moment she was reliving the feel of his surprisingly soft lips pressed against hers, the way her body had tingled at his touch and seemed to fit perfectly against his muscular form, how she was certain if he had lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist her hips would have been at the perfect level to –

"Stop right there!" Lucy demanded, closing the door behind her.

"Wh-what?"

"You had that disgusting look on your face again, you were nearly drooling and I absolutely refuse to allow you to have sex fantasies about that Malfoy git in our office!" Lucy grimaced at the very idea.

"I'll have you know I was thinking no such thing! That's just…disgusting!" Ginny blushed, uncovered her quill and began writing furiously.

"Oh, I suppose you know another bloke named Draco?"

Ginny snapped her head up, looking guilty as ever.

"Yes, you whispered his name. And it really serves me right for being so nosy and demanding that you tell me everything," Lucy said, sitting at her desk and flipping through a stack of parchment memos.

"I swear that insolent prat must have slipped some kind of potion in my drink last night when I wasn't looking," Ginny whined. She had been thinking of him all day, and was rather frustrated that she had still not received the owl he had promised to send her with potential meeting times.

"Please!" Lucy exclaimed, giving Ginny a knowing look. "Even I can admit the brute is gorgeous! Just accept it. You like him. And you're disappointed he hasn't sent that bloody owl yet."

"Lucy Walker, I really hate you sometimes."

"Because I'm right. I'm always right," Lucy gloated in a sing-song voice, smiling brightly.

Ginny grumbled incoherently and flipped through a couple pages of notes. She would never admit it aloud, but Lucy was absolutely right. Ginny had awoken that very morning longing to hear the tap of an owl at her window. She had left the office window slightly open all day and taken frequent breaks to peer out at Diagon Alley.

She couldn't explain it to anyone, least of all herself, but she was smitten with Malfoy. Draco. I mean, Malfoy! Oh, I don't even know what's going on anymore, she thought to herself. There was something about him, some mystery. She wanted to know how he had morphed into a respectable gentleman. He was still arrogant, but there was something so appealing about the quality she felt she would be unable to bear it if he suddenly became noble.

A noise at the window caught her attention. She jerked her head up, but immediately felt her heart sink when she realized it was just a blue jay.

"I've got to take a break, Luce. I'm going over to Florean Fortescue's," Ginny announced, picking up her purse. "Would you like anything?"

"If he still has that frozen coffee drink I'll take one of those. Thanks."

"You're welcome. I'll be right back." Ginny exited the building, the afternoon sun warm on her face, enjoying the last few days of summer. Fall was quickly approaching and already the nights were becoming cooler. She was just crossing the street and making a mental note to bring her window flower pots inside when she heard someone call her name. She turned back towards the newspaper building, and was pleasantly shocked to see Draco waving to her and quickly making his way across the street.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

Now that she was face-to-face with him she was feeling embarrassed and displeased it had taken him nearly all day to contact her.

"I stopped by to see you," he replied, looking somewhat taken aback at her harsh tone of voice. "The receptionist said you had just stepped out."

"Did you need something?" It was said before she could stop it. The emotions he stirred within her were confusing. It was much easier to be callous to him.

"What's your problem, Weasley? I finally get up with you and here you are acting infuriated to see me," he said.

"I'm not infuriated. I've had a busy day. I just stepped across the street to take a quick break. I have a lot more work to do. You know, owls to send, stories to write." She waved her hand and looked at him pointedly.

"Owls? Are you upset that I didn't owl you?" He smirked. Merlin, how she loathed that smirk.

"Don't be ridiculous." She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Well, if you were wondering, I've been stuck in a long series of dreadfully boring meetings all day. I came here as soon as I finished. I was hoping to catch you before you left," he explained.

"Whatever for?" She was trying to hide her satisfaction with his explanation.

"Actually, I hadn't worked it out that far in advance," he said, running a hand through his hair, a habit she would have attributed to nerves had it been any other man. "Dinner maybe? You're the one who said you had another story to write."

"I do have another story to write, but I've been writing all day. Maybe we can meet up sometime early next week? I don't mean to seem ungrateful for your cooperation, but it's the weekend, and-" He raised a hand to stop her.

"I understand. I'll contact you Monday morning," he replied, turning and preparing to cross the street again. Was that disappointment in his voice? She thought.

"Wait!" She called out to him before she changed her mind. He stopped and turned to face her. "We, well, I suppose, if you aren't busy or something," She paused, feeling silly. "I don't have any plans, really. I was just going to go home and make some pasta. If you aren't busy, you're welcome to come along."

"How good is this pasta?" He asked seriously.

"The best in London," she answered smugly.

"I'll be the judge of that," he mocked. "And I highly doubt your cooking skills could even compare to some of the restaurants I've been to."

"You'll see, just let me get my things from the office. I'll meet you outside the building and in an hour and you'll be eating your words," She taunted, crossing the street and heading back into the Daily Prophet before he had the opportunity to reply.

"So Fortescue's doesn't have that coffee drink anymore?" Lucy asked as Ginny burst back into the office.

"Probably. I didn't get around to asking," Ginny replied, dumping papers into her leather briefcase. "I ran into Malfoy outside."

"I see," Lucy answered, a knowing smile on her face.

"Don't even start," Ginny retorted. "I'll see you Sunday afternoon for tea with Hermione."

"Wait! Where are you going?" She managed to get out, but the door was already swinging shut and Ginny was gone.

(A/N: New scene…)

"Ok, it smells delicious, I'll give you that," Draco said, sticking his head in the kitchen.

Ginny had been cooking for a while now, and everything was nearly finished. When they had first arrived at her apartment, she had felt slightly unnerved at having Malfoy in her personal space, but he had resigned himself to the living room, fascinated with the muggle television set her father had given her when she moved in. She was relieved she had cleaned the apartment recently. Having Malfoy see a messy apartment, with undergarments and dishes strewn everywhere would have been humiliating.

"Thank you," she replied, spooning pasta onto plates and covering each with white wine linguini sauce and shrimp. "I'm almost finished."

"But then again, maybe I'm just famished," he retorted, sauntering into the spacious kitchen and sitting at the table. She glared at him momentarily, and then gently sat the pasta-filled plates on the table.

"Wine?" she asked, offering him a glass and opening a fresh bottle of wine.

"Yes, please." She poured two glasses and left the bottle on the table before taking a seat across from him. She watched him carefully swirl pasta around his fork before gingerly bringing it to his lips. He chewed appreciatively for a moment before glaring at her.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he grumbled.

"Then why did you make that awful face?" she demanded.

"I haven't had pasta this good since I was in Italy two summers ago," he ceded, taking another bite. She laughed and took a sip of her wine.

"I told you," She grinned, taking a bite from her own plate.

"Oh stop gloating. I'm the only one allowed to smirk like that," he frowned.

She only laughed at his defeated face.

"But I did tell you."

"You did. And it is excellent pasta."

They spent the rest of meal talking casually about their lives. Since the war, Draco had spent much of his time managing the family estate and trying to make amends for the actions of his late father.

Much to his dismay, Ginny spoke of her family at length. Charlie was back in Romania, happily tending to the dragons and his new bride Felicia. Percy still didn't come around much, but after a long day of talking and shouting, they had reconciled and it was possible to mention his name in the Weasley household again without fear of emotion breakdowns. Bill and Fleur were happily married and expecting their second child.

"Fred and George are doing really well also. They just opened another branch of their joke shop in Hogsmeade," Ginny explained, clearing their plates and filling their wine glasses a third time.

"You know, I never particularly liked those two, but even I can admit that swamp prank in my sixth year was bloody brilliant," he confessed.

"It was pretty great, wasn't it?" Ginny laughed, turning to leave the kitchen. "Growing up with those two really kept me on my toes."

"I can imagine," he said, picking up the half empty bottle of wine and following Ginny into the living room.

"And of course you know about Ron and Hermione," Ginny continued, sitting on the sofa, tucking her legs underneath her and beckoning Draco to sit beside her.

"Tied the bleeding knot, didn't they?" he asked, wrinkling his nose in mild disgust.

"Yes, and both of them cried the entire time," she admitted, giggling and offering her empty wine glass to him. He downed the rest of his wine and refilled both their glasses. She vaguely recognized that they were probably enjoying the wine and each others company far too much. "It was pathetic really, but they seem to be happy."

He took a gulp from his glass and studied her for a moment, a task that was becoming increasingly difficult due to their wine consumption. She was still wearing her black dress slacks, but she had removed her heels and suit jacket while she cooked, rolling up the sleeves of her white dress shirt. The topmost buttons of shirt were undone, giving Draco a glimpse of her creamy flesh. Her shiny red hair was falling around her face in gentle curls.

The alcohol made his vision blur slightly and she looked almost angelic. He wanted to reach out and touch her face, but was afraid the action would break the spell she seemed to have over him.

"What about the youngest Weasley?" He whispered. "Is she happy?"

She looked up into his eyes then, finally aware he had been staring at her. She saw a sadness in his gray eyes that she hadn't noticed before. She quickly looked away and took a hearty drink of wine.

"Of course I'm happy," she slurred, taking another drink. "I have a great job, a loving family, a terrific apartment and good friends. I'm just peachy," she finished, downing the last of her wine.

"Liar," he said, finishing his wine as well. She huffed but he ignored her. He picked up the bottle and quickly sat it back down when he realized it was empty.

"Well how about you? Are you happy?" She demanded, scooting closer and poking him in the chest.

"Don't be ridiculous," he answered. "I have a rewarding job, good friends, a huge apartment, my wretched excuse for a father is no longer torturing me, I'm handsome and I'm bloody rich. My life couldn't be sweeter."

"Liar."

"Well if you're so enlightened to my emotional state, why don't you tell me if I'm happy or not?" he insisted. She was close enough that he could smell her faint perfume. It was sweet and flowery, but he couldn't place the scent.

"You're surrounded by people, but you're lonely," she started, struggling to maintain eye contact with him. "You have the things you always wanted, but you're lonely. You lie down at night, and you're alone. I know, because it's how I feel as well," she said in a voice so low he had to lean towards her to hear.

When her words sunk in, he looked away. She was making him feel things he had never acknowledged before. Things he'd rather not deal with.

"You don't know me."

She studied his face a moment. His hair was falling into his eyes again, and this time she reached up and brushed it away. His eyes met hers again.

"I think I do. I think you're running from your past and your pain. And yet you keep it so... close to you, so you don't have to be afraid of who you are... but you shouldn't be afraid, because you're beautiful," she whispered.

He didn't argue. Somehow, he knew she was right. But he didn't want to analyze anything anymore. Everything was fuzzy and he knew it was hopeless to try to make sense of anything. The close proximity of her body was doing things to his mind, or maybe it was the alcoholic haze, or her scent. Or the way her impossibly soft hand lightly brushed his cheek, or the way she stole his breath when she pulled his head down to her smooth lips.

A/N: The following quote was borrowed from the movie "The Saint," because I love it:

"You're running from your past and your pain. And yet you keep it so... close to you, so you don't have to be afraid of who you are... because you're beautiful."