“Two manhattans,” Luna Lovegood said to the bartender, and the young man looked over at her with something akin to calm amusement in his eyes.

            “I just gave them to you.”

            Luna, in her drunken state, fixed him with a steely glare, one that she never could muster up the courage to use excepted when she was plastered, and said coldly, “I know. Gimme –.”

            She was interrupted by a hand on her arm, and the owner of said hand laughed, saying, “Luna, he’s new here, give ‘im a break, even if he was a Slytherin.”

            To the dark-haired man, she stated, “She meant two more manhattans, but I’m afraid that you’ll have to make it just one. Luna,” she continued, turning to the smashed girl on the stool beside her, “My break is over – I’ve got to get back to work.”

            With that, the redhead hopped nimbly off her barstool and, with a wave to Luna and the bartender, maneuvered her way through the pool tables over into the restaurant portion of the establishment.

            As he mixed the drink for her, Blaise Zabini snuck a glance at the girl, wondering who she was now.

            He brought the glass over to her, and she looked him over curiously, stating bluntly, “I do believe I’ve met you.”

            He put the glass down in front of her and held in a chuckled at her forthright manner, replying dryly, “Yes, I do believe you have.

            He stuck out his hand on instinct.

            “Blaise Zabini. Pleased to make your acquaintance...again.”

            “I’m Luna,” she replied, unnecessarily, and shook his outstretched hand politely. She then grabbed the glass and drank it in one shot, and he laughed outright at her.

            “Luna, I do believe that you and I will got along just fine.”

*   *   *    *   *

            “Excuse me, miss?”

            With a sigh, Ginevra Weasley turned around to face the voice that called her, cursing her the man silently for catching her right before she could reach the kitchen to place the new orders with the chef.

            “Yes, sir?” she asked brightly, automatically plastering a smile on her face and looking cheery, before her mouth caught up with her eyes. Standing in front of her was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life, and, strangely enough, he looked slightly familiar. And, he was speaking to her, so she cut short her examination of his body and forced herself to listen.

            “Miss,” he was saying courteously, “I was wondering if I could get a table for one?”

            She nodded, and smiled at him, this time genuinely, and said, “Follow me, sir.”

            He smiled back, her sudden good mood infectious, and she turned and started navigating her way through the crowded room.

            “I hope you don’t mind,” she started, drawing his attention away from her rear, “but we don’t have any single tables. I’ll set you up at an empty table for two, though, if it’s alright with you, sir.”

            “Oh, yes, that’ll be fine,” he replied, focusing in her gently swaying body again, and grinned. “Are you going to be my waitress tonight?”

            He waited hopefully, and she nodded, absent mindfully replying, “Yes, whoever seats a customer is their waitress – or waiter, as the case may be.”

            She reached the empty table and turned with a smile, surprised to see a huge grin on the man’s handsome face, and stated, “Here’s your table. I’ll be back in a moment with a menu, alright?”

He nodded his acquiescence and sat down, still smiling, and Ginny walked away. Inside, she was dancing. A cute new customer, who seemed quite pleased with the prospect of Ginny being his waitress. He would serve to make an otherwise dull evening somewhat interesting, hopefully. She went through the kitchen, ripped off the used page on her notepad, then stuck it to the permanently sticky bulletin board.

“Jack!” she called back to the chef, “I’ve got three new orders up!”

She heard an acknowledging shout and grabbed up a menu, then exited through the doors she’d just entered into.

As she walked back to the blonde man’s table, she mused over him. He looked familiar, so he was probably a wizard. Working in a magic restaurant that also catered to muggles, she never could be sure about someone unless she knew them, or explicitly told her. Her forehead wrinkled as she tried valiantly to place the man, but to no avail. Reaching his table, she shrugged, and handed him the menu.

“Here’s your menu,” she said cheerfully to him. “Welcome to Illa Nocte. My name is Ginny, and I’ll be your waitress tonight, so, let me know if you want anything, alright?”

‘Something like...you, for instance?’ he thought, a smirk crossing his face briefly, and she gasped.

“What is it?” he asked, concerned, and she smiled unconvincingly, saying, “Oh, nothing – you just, uh, reminded me of someone there for a moment.”

‘Or, perhaps it was more like this: you looked just like my family’s archenemy there for a minute...’ she though, grinning wryly.

“Anyway, can I get you something to drink?” she asked, trying to rid her mind of all things Draco Malfoy – if one thing could ruin the evening, it was thoughts of that git.

“Sure. Do you have butterbeer?” he asked with a wink, letting her know that he was, indeed, a wizard.

She smiled happily. This was too perfect. He was drop-dead gorgeous, elegant, and a wizard, all in one.

“Sure do,” she said, “Would you like one?”

“Well, actually,” he admitted, eyes twinkling, “I don’t want one, but I just wanted to acknowledge my, uh, heritage, so to speak. Can I have a Coca-cola?”

“Coming right up,” she promised, and returned to the kitchen. After depositing the drink on his table and smiling some more, she flounced over to the other tables she was waiting on to check on the status of their meals.

When she eventually turned to go back to her young man’s table, she was dismayed to see a pretty girl sitting in the seat opposite him, clearly flirting with him. She trudged over to them and was prepared to irritably say, “Are you ready to order now, sir?” and stress the sir part of the sentence, when the man mumbled something, looking up at her, and jumped up to greet her.

“Ginny! You’re here, finally!” he cried, happily, then turned to the brunette saying, “Excuse me, Chantal, but I’m afraid that my dinner partner has arrived. If you wouldn’t mind vacating her seat?”

The young brunette, Chantal, looked up a Ginny with an air of loathing as the blond gentleman smiled suavely at the red-head.

“But, Draco! She’s just a waitress!” the girl whined, while Ginny looked on confused, and the man replied slowly, as if speaking to a small child, “No, she isn’t, Chantal. Is she wearing a waitress’s uniform?”

“Well...no...but, Draco!” she whined again, clearly used to getting her way, and Ginny glanced down at herself, baffled, and then amused, as she realized that the man must have been muttering a quick glamour charm for her. Deciding to play up what ever role that tall, blonde, and gorgeous had thought up for her, she smiled wickedly at him.

“Sorry I’m late, Draco,” she said, walking over to him and resting her hand possessively on his shoulder, “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

Suddenly, she realized what the girl, and herself, had said. Draco. His name was Draco. He was blonde. He was debonair. He had gray eyes. Uh-oh. But it was too late to stop the charade, so she turned back to the brunette.

“Thank you so much, hon, for entertaining my dear, darling Draco while I was busy,” she purred.

“Don’t call me hon!” Chantal snapped, and Ginny couldn’t resist, despite who the man may end up being. She took a deep breath, looked back into his eyes at his cool amusement, and did the unthinkable. She closed her eyes and kissed Draco Malfoy.

Now, granted, it was only going to be on the cheek. Just a quick, impersonal peck to put this girl in her place, but Draco turned his head, and suddenly Ginny’s eyes snapped open as she felt his lips on hers.

‘To hell with keeping up appearances,’ she thought, trying to pull away, but he wrapped his arms around her, one creeping around her waist as the other circled her neck. She didn’t struggle, but stood there taciturnly, and eventually he pulled back, gazing into her eyes searchingly, and said for Chantal’s benefit, “I’ve missed you, Gin.”

The girl glared at the two, and Draco said icily, “Now, if you’d excuse us, Chantal, we have a lot of catching up to do.”

After the girl removed herself, Ginny threw a death glare at Draco and wrenched herself free as he sat down again.

“What are you playing at, Malfoy?” she hissed angrily, and he looked up at her, surprise written in his eyes, his face blank.

“How do you know who I am?” he asked, curiously, and she laughed rancorously.

“You idiot. Red hair? Freckles?” she almost shouted, then, shaking her head, continued, “Besides, what did you think you were doing? First there was the magic in front of all these muggles! And then you kissed me!”

“Relax, Red, you act like you’ve never been kissed. Besides, you kissed me,” he said, smirking, and then added, “Furthermore, do I know you?”

“I went to kiss you on the cheek! And yes, you know me! Or, rather,” she started slowly, beginning to play with her blatantly red hair that she'd already made mention of once, “I think you know my brother, Ron, a little better.”

Horror dawned on the face of Draco Malfoy as the implications of what she said sunk in.

“You mean...I kissed a...a....Weasley?!” He said in outrage, as his mind raced to finished his sentence, 'And I enjoyed it?!’

“M’afraid so, Malfoy. Although you should be happy it wasn’t Ron,” she said, smirking at the thought.

With that, she stalked over to the kitchen, muttered the anti-glamour spell for herself, took off her apron, and called back to Jack the chef, and owner of the restaurant, that she suddenly felt ill and had to leave. He grunted in response, and she went over to the bar to find Luna and commiserate.