Notes: This can be EWE or canon-compliant, as you wish. There's a reason I chose not to present a time frame.

This is for Kelly (HedwigBlack) for the Gift-Giving Extravaganza.

Kelly: I remember that we once talked about Drinny and how it holds a special place in both our hearts, so I wanted to write one for you. This is the result of me writing them for the first time in about... ten years? I don't know. My Drinny skills are a bit rusty, but I hope you enjoy this nonetheless.

Thanks to Jess (autumn midnights) because I wouldn't know what to do without her beta-ing skills.

Sliding Through the Cracks

"Thank you for seeing me, Malfoy." Draco would've taken sick pleasure in her words, had they not been said in the rehearsed ways of a woman versed in public speaking. "Where shall I begin?"

Draco's recent promotion meant that the Ministry had given him his own office and a whole new set of responsibilities. The former helped him deal with the latter - he was having difficulties with the particulars of a new patent at present time. So pretending to be civil to her, of all people, was too much.

"I know enough about the fundraiser to want to hear it all over again, Weaslette."

"Then I guess you have made up your mind already. There's a RSVP card attached to the invitation."

Draco couldn't help the little laugh that escaped upon hearing her talk about RSVP cards.

"Seeing you beg never gets any less funny."

"Then don't forget that this isn't about me. My time is too precious for you to waste." Weasley didn't miss a beat. "Is there anything else you'd like to know before I leave?"

"Why would your team send you to personally invite me to the gala?"

"No one sent me." And once again, his venom fell on deaf ears. "I was the only one who thought you would be one to directly benefit both from the event and what it promotes."

Draco had a brief memory of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He leaned back.

"What makes you think that?" he asked.

"I refuse to answer that question."

Draco realized that he didn't even want an answer - such a question invited prying eyes, after all. But he refused to be grateful for her tact.

"Suit yourself."

"Alright, then." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "I won't take any more of your time."

She left a letter on his desk -probably the formal invitation to the gala- and stood up to leave.

"You don't have to go."

He didn't know why he'd said that. Perhaps it was an automatic reaction to a shorter-than-usual meeting. But hadn't short been exactly what he'd wanted?

"No need to be overly polite, Malfoy." She swung her purse over her shoulder. "We both know you don't want me to be here. Thank you for your time."

She left his office with a careless sway of her hips.

Draco hated to admit that Weasley had been right: There were opportunities to take advantage of in a charity gala. The honor, the decoration, the propriety, and even the food, had made him feel, for a tiny instant, that nothing had really changed after the war.

More than anything, Draco found himself appreciating the entertainment - the auctions, in particular. He got to appear generous by giving to a good cause, which would grant him a quicker re-entry to polite society. And he got something in return. In contrast, mingling was barely an option. That was his mother's thing; it had always been. No one greeted her with a bow and a smile anymore, but that didn't seem to deter her from trying to reconnect with old friends. Draco didn't want to join her. He knew he'd only been invited because of the job he did in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. And even so, he doubted it would've happened if his wealth was any smaller.

Those who used to be at the bottom were suddenly on top.

"It's kind of you to bring your mother as your plus-one." His mother's seat was now occupied by Ginny Weasley. Draco knew she would be a key speaker at the event, but he hadn't expected her to approach him.

"Who did you bring, now that Potter's not on the list?"

"Actually, I did bring Harry."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Why would you do that?"

"This revelation may shock you, but I don't want to talk about it."

"You just spoke about how you were possessed by You-Know-Who in front of dozens of people." He raised an eyebrow. "Talking about Potter is hardly any more private."

"I don't want to discuss this with you, Malfoy. Let us both leave our personal confessions for our future mental healthcare specialists."

"Weasley, I resent the assumption that I need help. I don't."

"Good for you, then. I can't even begin to explain the extent to which I do not care."

"That's not very polite of you, especially considering that mental healthcare is the exact cause I'm here to contribute to."

"Not very polite of me." Her face was red. Her voice rose ever so slightly. "For someone who hasn't ever been polite to me, you're too quick to demand politeness and answers." She crossed her legs. "I thought you were clever."

Draco sighed. Weasley had obviously come to him with a clear purpose, and the quicker she'd get it out, the quicker she'd be gone. Continuing to be hostile wasn't an option, considering her role in the current society, and what would be at stake if their feud kept going.

"Why are you talking to me, then?" He tried again.

"This time I was sent over, to thank you personally for your generous bid."

"That's what thank you notes are for."

"You could've just said 'you're welcome' and ended this conversation."

"This revelation may shock you," he mimicked her earlier words, "but I don't really need to be thanked. I wouldn't have bid on an item I wasn't interested in."

"I'm not shocked at all, Malfoy. The Snitch you won is indeed a nice relic - and a good investment."

"I don't see it as an investment," he said quickly. "I don't plan on re-selling. It's a gift for my parents. Their first date was the British League final of 1974. It was entirely too lucky you donated for auction the same Snitch that the Harpies's Seeker caught in that game."

Draco said all this matter-of-factly. It was only a few seconds later that he understood that maybe this information was a little too personal, entirely too harmless.

"It had to go out with a bang." She smiled almost imperceptibly. "After so many decades the team has used it for practices, its wing broke - it doesn't look like it, but it's just... not working as it should."

"It was a very risky auction."

"What else do you want? I said I was sent over to thank you."

"You're welcome, then."

"See? It wasn't that hard."

Weasley didn't give him a warning this time - she just stood up, with a clear intention of walking away. As she did, Draco let himself examine her appearance. His train of thought didn't particularly bother him, for he accepted that Weasley was beautiful the same way he accepted that the Earth orbited the sun. He wasn't bothered when he realized that her bright turquoise dress robes fit her quite nicely.

After all, there was more to any person or object than its aptitude for being looked at, which he considered a negligible trait compared to its purpose.

Ginny Weasley's purposes seemed to be entirely unrelated to his, however, and he didn't know how he felt about not completely disliking her for it. Being a blood-traitor and a Weasley meant that, some time ago, it would've been a hindrance to associate with her.

Those times were long gone.

"You don't have to go."

Weasley didn't answer. She didn't turn around to face him. She might have not even heard.

And maybe that was better. Maybe it had been too revealing of a statement. But there was a chance -and Draco didn't know how big or small it was- that he just didn't care.

"Have you not learned to send somebody else, Weasley?"

"They wanted to send one of the interns." Weasley sat down, uninvited, in the chair he kept for guests at his office. "But half the team was horrorized by letting an outsider deliver such a valuable object. And I had my doubts about delegating the task of coming face to face with you to someone who didn't know what they're getting into."

"Charming."

"Honest."

"They know you, why should they fear me?"

"Do you really want to talk about this, Malfoy?"

"No, I guess I don't," he conceded. "So where is it?"

Weasley produced a tiny wooden chest out of her cloak.

"Go ahead," she said, sliding it up to him. "It won't fly away."

Even so, he was careful and gentle when opening the lid. The Snitch stirred immediately, but a leather and golden clasp prevented it from flying away.

"Also, the documents." Weasley placed two parchment rolls on his table. "It's a replica of the original Bowman Wright Snitch. It is made of pure gold, and the feathers are taken from a hippogriff's wing. Amusing, isn't it?"

"It doesn't amuse me at all."

"Well. It amuses me." She smirked. He decided not to let her win -whatever that meant- by using her tactic of completely ignoring her remarks.

"It does explain why this Snitch was usable for so long, however." He held the Snitch between his thumb and index fingers and carefully undid the clasp holding it with his other hand. He brought it closer to his face to examine it. It was shaking its wings violently, but the movement wasn't symmetrical. "Yes, I think I can see the problem."

"It seemed fitting to let it go for a good cause." She smiled, her eyes twinkling. "We raised more than we expected, you know. They're now in the process of recruiting people for training. They just acquired the material we needed from the Muggle world-"

"The Muggle world." He'd supposed as much, but why'd she have to go and say it?

"Yes, the Muggle world, Malfoy. Before you judge Muggle fields, wait until you talk to one of our mental healthcare specialists."

"You keep assuming that I'll want to." He shook his head, clutching the Snitch in his fist. "Weasley, I'm not proud of what I did. But it's over."

"It's not over. It's never over." Her voice shook. Draco's heart beat a little bit faster. "So many people, like you and me, were lured in but wanted out. And I, of all people, got out. Alive. Sane. I was so lucky." She ran a hand through her hair, breathing deeply, and leaned back in her chair. "I can openly admit that I don't want to be alone in this. But you... well, you know what? You get to be as dismissive as you want, Malfoy. It shouldn't concern me."

"I'm not dismissive." But there was nothing more he could say. The conversation was over, even if she did believe him. "Anyway-"

"Yes, I should probably-"

"You don't have to go."

"You keep saying that." Weasley smiled softly, to his surprise, with only the slightest hint of the negative emotions she'd displayed. And Draco couldn't bring himself to reply.

Weasley lingered for a few seconds before getting up and exiting his office.

"So it's me who has to ask this time," Weasley said. "Why are we here?"

There were no reasons, other than the fact that his life was dull and Weasley was exciting. There was nothing more than Draco's disappointment when the thank you note for the gala was delivered by an owl, and not Weasley. Logically, he knew it wasn't the kind of errand that needed to be carried out in person. Logically, there was no reason for him to even want to see her.

But there he was, after office hours, in the little tea shop in Diagon Alley. It was clear that logic wasn't on the table anymore.

"I want to keep up with things." Whatever that meant. Sounded dignified enough. He sipped from his tea before asking, "So how's the training for mental healthcare specialists going?"

"Training started last week. So far, so good."

"You don't sound so happy about it."

"I am, but I just cut back on volunteer hours. They don't need us right now. We're just their pretty faces most of the time. But once the playoffs are done with, I trust I'll commit more."

"Right. Season's starting."

"It is. Who are you rooting for?" The question caught him by surprise. "Come on, it's not like I expect you to root for us."

"I'd like to see the Falcons winning."

"The Falcons?" Weasley raised an eyebrow. "Malfoy, I'd expected more class from you. Puddlemere, Magpies... maybe the Bats. Even the Harpies would be a more logical answer than the bloody Falcons."

"Is your faith in your own team so low that you believe no man would root for you?"

"Never seen it happen. We're terribly underrated, I believe."

"Yes. I happen to agree."

"You agree with me." But she didn't sound nearly as surprised as he would've expected her to. "So you do root for us."

"About two years now." Draco noticed her raised eyebrow, so he felt the need to clarify. "I like my Quidditch good. I will always root for the superior team. The fact that you're all ladies means very little to me."

"But you lied when I asked you."

"Would you have believed me?"

"That is a good point." She conceded. "It is difficult to associate Slytherin men with an all-female team because- now I have to ask this. It's been bothering me for a while now. Why were there no girls in the Slytherin Quidditch team?"

Draco swallowed. It was a hard question for him to answer without dishonoring the Slytherin house. He had been taught by his father that women were to be treated as equals, but in Draco's world, he'd seen enough of the opposite. Ginny Weasley, forever a blood-traitor, didn't belong in that world.

And it was for the best.

"I don't know," he said, a little too late. "I guess Slytherin girls don't like Quidditch as much."

Weasley shrugged, either convinced or too wise to insist. He was glad she wasn't pushing it, and he didn't know what else to say. So they fell into a soft silence.

Draco let himself enjoy his tea and the quiet company. He shot glances at Weasley from time to time. Her eyes seemed lost in space, wandering around, trying to take in her surroundings. It made Draco desperately wish he could know what was going through her mind.

Upon finishing his cup of tea, he signaled to their waitress to bring him the bill. Weasley caught sight of his gesture and put her own cup down.

"I'll get the bill," she said.

"Are you kidding?"

"I am not. I'm aware you have all the money." She made a grandiose gesture with her hands "But you've poured some of it in a good cause I care about. I know you enjoy remembering me as poor, but paying for your tea is the least I can do."

"Is this about proving something to me? If so, stop it." He narrowed his eyes, but didn't wait for an answer. "I invited you, Weasley. I think it's only fair that I pay."

She thought about it for an instant, as their waitress arrived with the bill and a quick thank you.

"Alright, then," she said after they were left alone. "Fair enough. But next one's on me."

Next one?

Undescribable sensations hit him full-force, and he hoped it wasn't a new obsession of his. Because when Draco got obsessed, the whole world stopped and nothing else mattered but him, and the one thing occupying his thoughts. And it couldn't be a woman. It just couldn't. A woman wasn't an object, or a goal, or something to be obtained. No. Those feelings of longing couldn't be over a woman.

It just couldn't be that woman.

"Next one?" He couldn't help his voice echoing his thoughts.

"I was under the impression you'd begun to enjoy my company."

Hoping to think of an acceptable answer, he busied himself in finding some Knuts. Under Weasley's gaze, he opted to leave all eight Sickles on top of the bill.

"Maybe a Butterbeer, then."

Draco got up, and she quickly followed. They and were immediately greeted by the evening sky. A cool breeze marked the late summer. It rustled his hair and made him momentarily close his eyes. Weasley was tying her hair up in a bun with a smile on her face. Once again, he was struck by her beauty. Draco couldn't help but remember how she was all stiff and proper when she first came into his office. Now she was boiling and bubbling - nothing like he thought she could become around him.

Weasley must've felt the weight of his stare, because her cheeks had turned pink.

"Well Malfoy, I live close by, so-"

"I'll come with you."

"I'll have to Apparate, though."

"I don't mind."

"Alright then."

Weasley took his hand. The contact sent a current all through Draco's body that he couldn't quite place. It made him want to release her. But it also made him want to hold on for dear life and never let go.

And just like that, they were Apparating in a decayed alleyway. Draco wondered why it didn't frighten her - then he winced at the memory of being at the receiving end of her spells. No. This was nothing in her eyes. It took more than danger to scare Ginny Weasley.

"Nasty, I know." She interpreted his expression correctly. "But it's the safest place to Apparate in. I live just one block away and it's so much nicer... Let's just go."

She pulled him by his hand and he dumbly followed her into the city. After a few instants, Draco squeezed her hand, just to point out that she was still holding it. He only got a confused glance in return, and oh Merlin she's not letting me go.

So maybe he should've seen it coming. They were waiting for a green light at a pedestrian crossing when it happened: Weasley pulled at his tie and kissed him gently. Draco didn't even have time to be surprised, to be ecstatic, before he found himself kissing her back with his hands on her waist, and hers tangled in his hair.

But as suddenly she'd pulled him in, she pulled away. When he could finally see her, under the scant light of the streetlamp, she looked ashamed and shocked and all kinds of wrong.

"I really hope you're not about to apologize."

"I'm not." Her gaze followed passing cars.

"And you're not going to say that you regret this."

This time, Draco had to wait longer for an answer. The light turned green, so Weasley started walking again. He followed her anxiously.

But then she shook her head. "I don't regret this." And it was enough for him.

They said nothing more until she stopped in front of a doorway to a small apartment building.

"This is it," she whispered, looking up at him. "Thanks for a lovely time."

He leaned in to kiss her once again, which she didn't resist, and held both her hands in his.

"You don't have to go."

Draco could see the light in her eyes changing as he said those words once more. It was the first time in his life he'd ever seen Ginny Weasley look frightened.

She shook her head, lowering her gaze.

"I don't," she said, "but you can't stay."

He waited there until the door closed between them.

After quickly looking around, Draco sighed and Disapparated away.

Draco had reached a conclusion.

He concluded that, even if her hair was viciously red, and she flickered and exploded at the slightest provocation, Ginny Weasley wasn't fire. She was Earth. Earth he could land on, Earth that formed a path for him to walk on. Earth that he wanted to close his fist around but kept sliding through the cracks. Though she always came back, the Earth to his Moon. And just as he was drawn to her, she was absolutely drawn to him.

It had taken her a few days to respond to his invitation. In the end, he didn't care. They'd met up at the Leaky Cauldron, as she suggested - but this time they'd ended up in his place.

Draco knew now that Earth was the fresh scent of her skin and the soft touch of her hands. Earth was her lithe body against his and her kisses that felt like spring. Waking up right next to her had been the most blissful moment in his life after the war. He didn't want it to end, so he didn't question the fact that she was still in his bed, still wearing his pyjamas.

His owl found them just like this when he flew in, carrying the Daily Prophet. Draco took the newspaper mindlessly, but he only had to read it for two minutes to realize that he'd crossed a line.

"We're all over the Prophet," he informed Weasley. She turned around to face him hazily.

"Rita Skeeter?"

"Rita Skeeter."

"Don't even bother, then. Worse things have been said about me. Or does it bother you?"

"Not me. Much worse things have said about me. Father will be so angry. Good thing he doesn't have a say on who I date anymore."

Upon her lack of response, he had to examine his words closely.

Did I use the word 'date'? Are we dating?

"I don't know why I said that," he answered his own question.

Weasley sat down on the bed, turning around so she could look at him.

"I didn't mean it to end up like this, Malfoy. I didn't meant to make you believe I was interested in something serious right now. This will never work."

"How do you know?"

"Do you actually want me to list all the reasons?"

"I know your reasons, but you're wrong. Things have changed."

"I beg to differ." She looked away from him. "No matter what, my brother will hunt you down and murder you."

"Your brothers, plural, will dislike anyone you go out with whose last name isn't Potter. Be a good sister and give them legitimate reasons." Draco could've sworn he heard a weak laugh coming from her.

"It's just... we're so different. How can any of us really forget? How can you?"

"I wanted to forget. At some point, I just did."

"That's easy to say."

"And that is easy for you to assume." Draco sat as well, looking for her eyes, clenching the blankets in a tight fist. "Do you want an apology for my conduct when I was younger? Because I can't apologize. I know I can't erase the Dark Mark, but I'm not even the same person anymore. "

The Mark was barely visible, but that hadn't prevented Weasley from looking appalled when she first saw it. She hadn't addressed it, or acknowledged it further - until that very moment, in which she brought her fingertips to it and stared for a few eternal seconds.

"If neither of us had changed, neither of us would be here. I fully accept that. I'm just not in the right state of mind to commit. Because once I'm in, I'm all in, and I can't promise that right now. It would be cruel of me to leave you waiting for an answer as I decide." And he would've probably left her alone hadn't she added, "This isn't healthy. It can't be healthy."

"And just why not?" His face was now mere inches away from hers, but she wouldn't look at him. "Look, Weasley. I'm done with your assumptions that just because we haven't had it easy, we can't carry on like normal. We're both on our way to being successful, and happy, and you know better than anyone that it takes time." His hands grasped his hair in a effort to to keep himself from losing control. "I just can't understand you, woman. You've made such a huge deal of emotional support, and now you're running away from it." He let himself fall back into the mattress. "I thought you were clever."

Her mouth twitched.

"Emotional support. Who would've thought." She cast a sideways glance in his direction. "I can't believe I'm saying this but you're right and... see, this is exactly what I mean. I just can't believe any of this. I want to change how I feel, but don't know if I can."

His hand clutched hers, and their eyes met.

"Ginny, please."

Draco knew he had her full attention after saying those two words he swore he'd never say. And when he spoke, his voice came out in a whisper.

"You don't have to go."