Prologue

It is said that as a dragonfly grows older, it becomes more beautiful and iridescent.
So it is said, in some cultures, that a woman is like a dragonfly. As she grows older,
her wisdom and experience only increases her beauty.


Chapter 1 – A world without romance.


Ginny Weasley muttered yet another curse under her breath.

Blasted faeries!

She waved another one away from the dessert table and scowled as it responded with a tinkling giggle. She could only imagine her look of disgust as three more buzzed around her head.

Smack!

It was a satisfying sound as the faerie bounced off her hand and back into the shrubs, and she watched the bright glowing creature fly away somewhat awkwardly.

The fact that faeries were highly revered creatures that represented everything beautiful and romantic gave her little pause in her attempt to eradicate them. At the moment, they were pests. Pests that were doing their best to ruin both the dessert table and, consequently, her professional reputation.

She was simply not in a good mood.

But it was her job, so ...

Thud!

She sent another one spinning off into the shrubs along the edge of the tastefully decorated patio. Her love life was in shambles, yet again, and the creatures only seemed to taunt her further with every attack they made on the once pristine dessert table.

Perhaps she should have delegated the task to another member of her staff, but she wasn't one to avoid unpleasant duties. As Assistant Coordinator for Tinkerton's Perfect Party Planners, it was her responsibility to ensure that the event ran smoothly and, therefore, she was obligated to do whatever was deemed necessary for the client's event or function to be successful.

She'd endured many things over the past two years: fussy brides, numerous magical mishaps and difficult clients, but this was her first faerie encounter. It never failed to amaze her that there was such a broad range of activities that seemed to fall under such an innocent-sounding job description.

Thwack!

The task of protecting the desserts from the thieving little beasties was mundane and frustrating, but at least it offered her the chance to be alone.

Unfortunately, she was quickly realizing that the situation had given her far too much time to dwell on the negatives in her life and the sequence of events that had gotten her to this rather low point.

The patio she was currently standing on was part of the estate of Mr. Cornelius Sutherland, owner of the Puddlemere United Quidditch team and the event was a simple banquet being thrown to kick off the start of the new Quidditch season.

That in itself reminded her of how she'd come to be working as a caterer, and how disappointed she was with the choices that had led her to that particular career.

When the guests had arrived and she saw all the professional Quidditch players, she'd cursed the choices that had led her away from trying to play professionally after she left school. Fred and George had encouraged her but, after leaving Hogwarts, she found herself drifting, with no clear plans for her future.

Thud!

Looking back, she realized that her lack of ambition likely had its roots in her short but complete infatuation with Harry Potter. All she'd wanted at the time was to live a happily ever after with him, and it left her bereft of any clear plans for a career.

Her life had slipped along easily enough after finishing her seventh year. When she needed to start earning some money, she found herself working for her brothers Fred and George at the joke shop. It had turned out to be quite fun for a while, and she remembered those months fondly. During that same time, Harry had been away for Auror training, and she saw very little of him so the distraction of being with the twins had kept her busy and somewhat entertained.

She loved her brothers, but it didn't take long before she found that working for them had its own unique problems. First, both living and working with members of her family left her feeling just a bit stifled. Also, she quickly grew tired of being used as a regular test dummy for the twins' latest creations. The final straw had been when she was forced to endure a week sporting a set of small, yet bright blue, dragon wings before a proper antidote could be manufactured.

Finding herself in desperate need of a change, she'd randomly chosen to apply for a job at Tinkerton's. It had been her first step to becoming the new, independent Ginny. She'd had little doubt that at the time it had been a good choice. Although it didn't yet pay enough to afford to leave home, her success at the company had given her self-confidence that she'd never really had before. Her ability to organize, and her natural leadership abilities made her a perfect fit for this type of career, and normally she enjoyed her work. Except for tonight.

Whack!

A slightly evil smile crossed her face. She was sure that that particular faerie would be seeing double for a week. Hopefully it would fly off and leave her alone for the rest of the evening.

No good little harbingers of romantic doom, she muttered to herself.

That small victory aside, she tried to focus on the fact that her life wasn't currently all bad. As far as her career was concerned, she was doing quite well. She had worked her way up from being on the catering staff as a waitress, to leading the catering division, to now being an Assistant Event Coordinator, and she was proud of her accomplishment. She'd received her rapid promotions based on hard work, good organizational skills and attention to detail. Now, she was looking forward to being moved from assistant to a full-fledged event coordinator.

Unfortunately, the skills which had helped her excel in her new found career apparently did her no good whatsoever in the romance department. Around the same time that she started working at Tinkerton's, her relationship with Harry Potter had floundered. The breakup had been difficult, but she felt it was for the best, and she remained grateful that they'd been able to remain friends. In the two years after Harry, she managed a long string of failed romances, each boyfriend seemingly worse than the last. The last being the one that finally forced her to renounce relationships entirely.

After all, it wasn't just the faeries that had her in a foul mood. Truth be told, the main reason why she had chosen the duty to be alone outside defending the dessert table instead of working indoors with the rest of the staff was quite more personal than professional.

She was avoiding one of the guests.

Swat!

Taking her anger out on the bothersome faerie seemed to help. But, she chastised herself for allowing her thoughts to stray down that path.

She checked her watch. Dinner was almost over, and soon the guests would be dancing and mingling. The rest of her staff was busy with clearing plates and pouring after dinner coffee. With a little luck, she would soon be done with the evening and, hopefully, would be on her way to earning her next promotion. She tried to focus on that, instead of her personal peeves and, in particular, the one Quidditch player that she least wanted to encounter tonight.

Fortunately, he hadn't noticed her...yet and she fully intended for it to remain that way.

She muttered a particularly ugly curse as another faerie zoomed in to steal a cherry off the top of the top stack of the rainbow torte.

"That's hardly appropriate language,” she heard an amused drawl from behind her.

Startled by the sudden realization that she wasn't alone, she jumped and turned wide-eyed to the intruder, staring down at his feet to hide her embarrassment. The action only seemed to amuse the man further, as she heard him chuckle softly. Oh, why me? she thought, as she realized she had not been exactly discreet in her efforts. Her stomach dropped when she looked up and recognized the interloper.

Draco Malfoy.

Well, to correct her earlier statement, there were two people she would have liked to avoid this evening.

In truth, Malfoy was no where near the insufferable git that he had once been. She'd seen him at several functions while working at the caterer's, although she'd never personally interacted with him. From all accounts that she'd heard, he'd matured since school and had been nothing but polite and well-mannered. Also, from the gossip that was regularly printed in the society news, he seemed to be turning into a rather charming and competent businessman.

That said, he was also rather handsome and she was quite sick of hearing her staff fawn over the man.

At the moment, she truly had no desire to deal with him in her current annoyed state of mind. Her initial instinct was to insult him. Several sharp retorts came to mind, but she held her tongue because she was representing Ms. Tinkerton at this event, after all. She really should be polite.

Oh, hell, no. Who was she kidding?

“If you're here to get a dessert, Mr. Malfoy, please do so. But as you can see, I've got more important things to be concerned about than your sensitivity to my language.”

He raised an eyebrow, apparently surprised by her rude tone, but then, he smiled. The bastard seemed amused.

"I wouldn't say I'm sensitive, but I am curious, Miss, ahh, Weasley, isn't it?"

She glared at him. A small part of her had hoped he hadn't remembered her from school but, apparently, she wasn't that fortunate. It only added to her bad mood.

"I'm afraid I can't help you with your issues at the moment, as you can see, I'm very busy."

She shooed another faerie away from the punch bowl, restraining herself from smacking the creature only because she now had a witness to her rather unkind actions.

"Ah yes, you look quite busy, out here all alone, chasing innocent faeries," he said casually motioning to the table.

"I'd hardly call the things innocent," she responded somewhat irritably, desperately wishing for him to go away. He didn't. In fact, he remained where he was, standing casually and looking rather comfortable about being there, as if expecting her to continue speaking with him.

Giving into a desire to nudge him on his way, she said, "Don't you have people elsewhere who are missing your charming presence?" There was no missing the sarcastic tone as she emphasized the word charming.

But her question had little effect. His response was to casually lean against the table, as if he was settling in for a nice, long chat. In that moment, she could see why her coworkers were always talking about him after an event. He definitely knew how to look good. Unfortunately, she really didn't care what he looked like while he was in the process of annoying her.

"I happen to like being out here," he said distractedly, as he reached across her and grabbed a pastry from the table, several of the lighted faeries buzzing around delightedly as he smiled at them. The creatures giggled in response, making the area glow with enchantment.

Inwardly, she snarled.

She decided to change tactics and simply ignore him. If she didn't, she would likely say something inappropriate. After all, she really didn't want to get sacked over something so trivial as insulting a guest, even if said guest was one as annoying as Malfoy.

She heard him chuckle again, as he watched her ineffectively trying to stop two bright yellow faeries from flying off with a piece of cake. She took a deep sigh as she realized that her evening had just taken a turn for the worse. While there was nothing she would have enjoyed more than walking away, she was currently trapped here until someone from her staff was free from their dinner duties.

"Most here would disagree with your statement about the faeries, you know," he added, as if she was actually interested in conversing with him. "I find them quite charming."

Again, a small group of the creatures happily glowed brightly, the enchanted light reflecting off the wizard's pale hair, making him look almost angelic. Ginny silently cursed again. It would figure that the creatures that were causing her so much difficulty seemed delighted with him, and worse, seemed more than happy to make the handsome man even more attractive. Damn him.

"You would," she said as she swatted a green-hued one off the champagne fountain. The only thing worse than a bothersome faerie was a drunk bothersome faerie...and Draco Malfoy.

"And here I thought I was coming out here to make pleasant conversation with a beautiful woman." The teasing note in his voice only added to her irritation at the moment.

The words sunk in and she was momentarily taken aback. Did he just compliment her? Egads, what was the world coming to? First faeries, and now this.

"Yes, and then you found out that I was only a Weasley and you chose to simply come out here and find a way to torment me and make my life miserable."

"You seemed to be doing just fine all by yourself. Who am I to ruin such a moment?"

She merely glared at him with pure loathing.

"Careful, Miss Weasley. I wouldn't want your claws to accidentally shred the tablecloth." He laughed, motioning at her hands which currently were maintaining a death grip on the edge of the table.

She quickly released the table and tried to regain her composure. She'd been so involved in her own reverie that his approach had caught her off guard. What was keeping her off balance was the fact that his tone had none of the cruel malice that she would have expected from him. She looked at him, trying to figure out what he might be playing at.

Fortunately, she didn't have to delve too deeply into the matter because one of the staff was approaching, giving her the opportunity to turn away from the man.

"Miss. Weasley, we're ready to pour the toast but there seems to be dispute over whether to charm the crystal toast glasses silver or black. Apparently, the owner of the Puddlemere United disagrees with using silver and the Titans owner almost started a fight over it."

"As the owner of the Falcons, I'd prefer gold," she heard a silky voice whisper into her ear. She jumped, startled by the unexpected closeness of Malfoy and almost fell into him, the girl in front of her observing the interaction wide-eyed.

Ginny attempted to recover quickly, and forced her temper into submission. If she hadn't been currently working, with an employee directly in front of her, she would have hexed him.

"I'll take care of it, Clarice. Please stay here and watch the dessert table. Try to keep it tidy, and please try to keep the faeries out of the punch..." Without looking back, she stalked off to resolve the latest small crisis.

----

A quick charm to allow the glasses to change to the appropriate team colors based on the holder's preference averted the toast crisis, but it cost Ginny the anonymity that she'd been trying to maintain for the evening.

She was just hurrying back toward the kitchens when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hello, Ginny."

"Marcus.” Her ex. Not like the Harry sort of 'ex' with whom she could remain friends. No this was the sort of ex-boyfriend that she truly did not want to associate with ever again.

- - -

Draco watched the redhead from across the room. At the very least, she had brought him some amusement for the evening. She was certainly far more interesting than his date who, despite being stunning, didn't seem to have half a brain. Not that he cared. The brainless ones were useful for events such as this and he didn't have to worry about commitment.

He truly hadn't realized that the attractive woman he'd seen out alone on the patio had been Weasley's sister, not that it would have mattered.

He'd been bored and had wandered outside to get away from another endless discussion on player statistics from the previous season. Taking in the fresh air, he'd found himself fortunate enough to see a lovely woman, all by herself, whose faerie-swatting actions simply begged for attention. Even if he had identified her as a Weasley immediately, he likely would have approached her anyway.

The conversation with her had been more fun than he'd expected. The Weasley's fiery temper didn't fail to disappoint him. She quite obviously had already been in some sort of a snit and prodding her had entertained him greatly.

Now, as his date wandered off to flirt with the various Quidditch players, he casually settled against the far wall to unobtrusively observe the girl further. After all, one needed to have some sort of a hobby during parties that proved to be as dull as this one. Watching the colorful girl who had a talent for using equally colorful language seemed to be as good a choice as any.

His first observation was that she seemed competent. After marching back in from the patio, she had immediately changed to a cool professional facade as she negotiated a truce between the disputing owners. She appeared to be somewhat in charge of coordinating the event and, as he watched her interact with her staff, he concluded that she handled people well.

As she turned back to the kitchens, he noticed Marcus Hutchins, the star Beater from Puddlemere, approach her. Hutchins was a persistent bloke and Draco found it funny when she effectively snubbed him.

By the evening's end, Draco had decided that he found her to be intriguing despite the fact that she was a Weasley. But he really was working to look beyond such shortcomings. Times had changed, after all.

Besides, teasing her had been far more fun than he wanted to admit. He felt a compulsion to continue to provoke her, if only for his own amusement. Better yet, he thought, her occupation could be used to provide ample opportunity. It just so happened that he had such an opportunity ready and waiting.

----

As the party drew to a close, Ginny was able to work with her staff to clear away the remaining party debris.

Fortunately, Marcus had already made his departure with his teammates. But, as she cleared up used napkins and empty glasses, she noticed Malfoy glancing over at her with an amused smirk on his face. Her mood once again plummeted, as she surmised that he was simply waiting for the opportune moment to approach her with some snarky or embarrassing comment. She'd already had quite enough of him this evening, and avoiding both him and Marcus was, quite frankly, getting on her nerves.

Looking for a polite way to avoid him, she glanced around the room and noticed one person who, if not exactly a friend, was certainly not an enemy. She tactfully maneuvered over to that area of the room. Still feeling Malfoy's steady gaze, she turned to charmingly strike up a conversation with Oliver Wood, introducing herself as Fred and George's little sister. Their conversation was short by necessity, due to her work, but she made sure it was long enough to see Malfoy leave the area with his date clinging to his arm.

Ginny slept badly after finishing up her evening's work at the Quidditch Banquet. After arriving home, she'd thrown herself onto her bed, hoping for an exhausted deep sleep. Instead, she tossed and turned and her anger renewed as she thought about the mess that had been her relationship with Marcus Hutchins.

Her brief encounter with her ex-boyfriend during the banquet had been unwelcome, at best. Fortunately, she'd noticed that he was focused on networking with his peers instead of her and she'd counted herself fortunate that a curt nod and a quick strut back into the kitchens had been sufficient to keep him away for the evening. Unfortunately, based on her prior dealings with the man, she was quite certain their brief encounter would only lead to repercussions later.

Marcus was incorrigible. Initially, when they'd first started their relationship, Ginny had found the trait to be attractive. He'd pursued her relentlessly and her shy avoidance had only made his efforts to become part of her life all the more endearing. She'd found Marcus to be confident, intelligent, and interesting. Not to mention that he played Quidditch, which had always been something close to her heart.

She'd been so naive. Her prior experience with serious relationships had included only Harry and several short term boyfriends, all who had been sweet and nice and utterly boring. She'd been unprepared for Marcus.

He'd charged into her life and she'd allowed him. His charm and charisma had drawn her to him and she'd been so swept up that she had been completely oblivious to his manipulation of her.

The changes were small at first; so small that they could easily be overlooked as insignificant. He would say that, for example, he preferred her hair shorter, or up, and she would alter it to make him happy. Then, it was her clothing, or her makeup, or the way she organized her bookshelf. He was persuasive, and he reasoned that he was only making suggestions for her to improve herself. At the time, it had somehow made sense.

As the unwelcome memories drifted through her mind, she tossed in her bed, furious with herself that she'd allowed it to happen.

Had he been content with the small changes, she probably wouldn't have minded so very much. Every couple, after all, had the small irksome habits that required compromise. No, it was the bigger things that finally started to get her attention.

The big warning should have been when Marcus targeted her longtime love, Quidditch.

After she finished with school, Ginny joined Fred and George's local Quiddich league and it quickly became her favorite weekend activity. The twins had even managed their own team, the Jolly Jokers, sponsored by the joke shop - as a way to promote the business, they insisted. It was nothing serious and certainly nothing close to the professional teams but it was the single best thing in Ginny's life, next to her family.

Marcus, through his subtle and persistent hints and comments, had somehow convinced her that she needed to give it up, for him, of course. And she had.

She still couldn't believe that she'd allowed herself to be manipulated so easily.

Strangely enough, that wasn't what had finally woken her up to the fact that the relationship was a mistake. No, it had finally come down to her job, her last measure of her independence. Marcus had already been chiding and berating her about working and it had finally come down to the fact that, once she moved in with him, she was expected to eventually quit. He didn't want his girl working, he'd said. He wanted to be seen as taking care of her.

She almost fell for that line as well.

The defining moment had come one day when she was thinking about accepting Marcus' offer to move in with him. As she started planning her move out of The Burrow, she'd looked out the window and noticed the little Quidditch pitch that she'd flown around with her brothers when she was a child. As she stared out at the shabby little field that she'd loved so much, she suddenly realized that she no longer had anything to look forward to in her life.

It had been an epiphany of sorts. She saw that she had been allowing someone to change her into something that she knew she truly did not want to be.

An odd thought, really, at twenty-two, to think of your life as being over. The realization had jolted her back into the reality of where the relationship had taken her.

She ended her relationship with Marcus that same day, and even though she'd tried to explain, he still didn't understand why.

As she tossed through her long sleepless night, she could only further her resolve to stay as far away from relationships as possible. She had long dreamed of falling in love and sharing romantic kisses in a faerie garden, much like the one outside on the patio. Unfortunately, her personal experience had only proven that things like that would never happen, and now she was simply convinced that it was all rubbish. Falling in love had nearly destroyed who she was, and she didn't want that to happen again. Ever.

Blasted faeries, she thought. It was all their fault that she'd found herself thinking of how miserable she was instead of getting a good night's sleep.

- ~ -

Her lack of sleep did not deter her from waking up early the next morning. It was Sunday, and Sunday mornings were reserved for her weekly Quidditch match with her brothers' team. She cast aside thoughts of her miserable love life and tried to move onto the more pleasant topic of Quidditch. Even if she wasn't a professional player, she loved the game and looked forward to flying every chance she got.

She arrived at the pitch early to get in some extra practice and clear her mind of the negative thoughts that had arisen from the previous evening's banquet. Flying always made her feel better. Besides, it was a beautiful day and the spring air was cool and crisp. She loved flying on days like those, feeling the wind in her face. As she took to the air, she felt the freedom and joy fill her as she concentrated on nothing except her agility and speed.

Fred and George arrived some time later, along with the rest of the team, and she smiled and waved as they flew up to meet her. Their team was far from talented, consisting mostly of players that were well past their prime, although Harry would occasionally join them as Seeker when his schedule allowed. She longed for more competition, but nevertheless loved her little team. Their pick-up games were always light and fun, and she enjoyed time with her brothers and teammates.

As they finished up an hour or so later, she noticed that they'd acquired an unusual spectator. As soon as she recognized him, she held back, shielding herself from him as the team flew down with the rest of the team. Fred and George , however, were undeterred and eagerly trotted over to greet him.

“Oliver!” they shouted cheerfully in unison.

Ginny peered over a random teammate's shoulder as her brothers greeted Oliver Wood with no shortage of manly hand shaking and back slapping. Oliver, now a professional Keeper for the Falmouth Falcons had once played with Fred and George while at Hogwarts and he'd stayed in touch with the twins over the years.

The rest of the team also approached, recognizing the well-known Quidditch player and all were eager to make his acquaintance. Ginny watched the exchange from a distance, feeling slightly self-conscious about having approached the man during the previous evening's banquet.

“What brings you here today?” Fred asked, after the appropriate salutations had been exchanged

“Just stopping by to see the new talent,” Oliver said cheerfully as he waved at the haphazard team gathering behind the twins.

“Or lack of it,” George added. "Come begging us for a spot on the team again? "

"We knew you'd prefer playing for us," Fred stated in firm agreement.

“Well, let's not go that far,” Oliver joked. “But, seriously, though, I happened to run into your sister yesterday at one of those events they make us attend, and I realized I hadn't seen you blokes in a while. Just thought I'd stop by and see if you've blown anything up lately in your crazy shop.”

Ginny cringed at hearing the statement and hid further behind her tall teammate. The twins chattered onward, delighted to have an audience for their tales of misadventure.

Fred chattered. “You know, we still haven't found that Wilson kid that we hired last month after we accidentally exploded that new dung bomb potion.”

“Took us a week to air out the shop from that one.”

Oliver laughed.

“I hear Ron's married now, eh?” Oliver inquired.

“Yeah, last summer. We had a great time planning the celebration party after.”

“Nearly set the house on fire. Mum just about skinned us alive.”

Oliver chuckled again. He started looking around at their pitch, and started looking for one of the other players. “I watched your match and was wondering about who's your Chaser – the little one? He's amazing.”

“You don't mean Ginny, do you?”

“That was your sister?” he asked, surprised as he glanced at the surrounding team. He clearly hadn't been expecting a girl to be that aggressive in the air. To his credit, he recovered quickly. "Well, she's probably been trying to keep up with the likes of you from the time she could mount a broom, so I'd guess she'd have to be good."

George shouted over his shoulder, “Hey Gin, come on over! Oliver wants to talk to you!”

Ginny sighed and walked over almost shyly, pulling her long hair out of the tight bun that normally held it in check while she flew. She watched Oliver's expression as he saw her, clearly looking impressed.

“You fly quite well,” he complimented.

She had to smile. It wasn't often one got recognition by a professional for one's efforts, and she appreciated it. “Thanks. It helps that after years of using an ancient broom to finally have something decent,” she said as she proudly clutched her Firebolt. It wasn't the newest on the market, but it was still an excellent improvement over the old Comet she once had.

“Well, it seems to have worked.”

They chatted on for a bit about the upcoming season, Ginny remaining quiet for most of the conversation, when Oliver dropped a rather surprising bit of information. “Yeah, I expect this will be my last season playing professionally.”

“No!” Fred exclaimed. Ginny listened in shock. Oliver had been playing professionally since he'd finished school and they'd followed his career closely. He had been an enormously talented Keeper on the Falcons, and she was sorry to hear that he'd have to retire.

“It's tough, lads,” he explained. “I took a Bludger to the back the end of last season, and it's just not working out. Playing is for the young, and I figure it's time to give the next bloke his chance. But, don't fear, my friends, I fully intend to keep working in the league after this season.”

“What do you plan to do?” the twins asked in unison. Ginny hung back, still feeling uncomfortable that she'd so rudely used Oliver to simply avoid others last evening.

Oliver brightened, as if he'd been waiting for such an opening in the conversation. “I think it's time for me to start coaching. That was part of the reason that I came by today. I was hoping to work with you all on some of that, so I'm better prepared when I move on to my new career.”

“You talking about coaching our little team here?” George asked, looking quite thrilled with the idea.

“If I wouldn't be a bother. I have some ideas on strategy and I would like to see how they work out before I start bringing them to the professional pitch.”

“Excellent!” Fred and George cheered in unison. Ginny found herself brightening as she heard Oliver and her brothers agree, and she couldn't help but think that, perhaps, her time at the banquet hadn't been such a disaster after all.

- - -

Ginny walked into work the next day feeling better than she had in a long time. Not only was she thrilled that Oliver Wood was going to be coaching her team in his spare time, but even on that first day, he'd offered tips and hints to help her fly just a bit sharper and faster. She'd spent most of the afternoon practicing.

Adding to her good mood, was the fact that even her job seemed to be going her way. As she soon found out when she was called in to see Ms. Tinkerton herself.

Esmeralda Tinkerton was a large woman, not overweight per se, but simply big. She reminded Ginny of the half-giant headmistress of Beauxbatons, but not quite on so grand of a scale. Ms Tinkerton stood at about six feet, with raven black hair and dark eyes. She had a warmth about her that charmed clients, but she balanced it with a professional business-like manner. She was a smart, capable and honest businesswoman. In short, Ginny liked her boss.

Of course, she was certain that, as she walked into Ms. Tinkerton's office, she would get a full evaluation of her efforts in the Quidditch social that she had managed on Saturday.

She wasn't disappointed. A few minutes later, she walked out of the office as the company's newest full-fledged event coordinator. As she returned to her desk beaming, her friend Camille was waiting for her, eager to hear the news.

“I got the promotion!” Ginny announced brightly, smiling at her friend. With the promotion came an increase in pay and Ginny had plans for that money, particularly because it now might involve her finally being able to move out of her parents' house.

“Moving up in the world, Ginny!” Her friend smiled, giving her a quick hug. “Do you know what your first assignment is yet?”

Ginny grinned at her friend. “She gave me the Wentworth party,” Ginny whispered almost conspiratorially.

“That's a perfect one to start. Don't be afraid to ask if you need any help,” Camille offered, and the two girls chatted amiably as they walked back toward their desk. That's when Ginny's good day came to an abrupt halt.

Flowers covered her work space. Not just any flowers. Red roses.

“Oh no.”

Camille gasped. “Oh my, Ginny! You lucky girl!”

Her gaze followed Camille's now shaking and pointing finger. At the center of the display was a charmed, glowing globe, containing a brilliant diamond engagement ring.

Ginny started to hyperventilate, and heard herself mumble, “This cannot be happening.”

Camille was now bouncing in excitement. “I didn't even know you were seeing anyone! I mean, you were always downplaying your love life, and here you have this!”

Ginny stared at the scene before her and felt her heart drop to her shoes. Slowly, she turned around to look at the office door behind her and, sure enough, Marcus was standing there, looking as confident and charming as he always did, his soft brown hair and bright blue eyes making him look younger than he actually was. He was looking at her almost smugly and she momentarily found herself to be too stunned to move.

When he walked up to her and began to drop to one knee, taking her hand, she felt a surge of adrenaline shoot through her system, screaming at her to flee.

“Marry me, Ginny.”

She snapped back to reality, and found herself cursing several things. First, that she was at work, and therefore had to keep her temper in check. Second, that Marcus still refused to see that she had been serious about breaking things off. And, third, that he was putting her in a very public position. She fought to keep her temper in check.

“Not here, Marcus.”

“Of course, not here. I was planning on us getting married after the World Cup, right on the pitch. It would be the marriage of the decade.” He continued, explaining about how he understood why she'd been so angry after he'd asked her to move in with him, something about him finally realizing that she wanted more, blah, blah, blah. Her mind shut down listening to him while she quickly tried to figure out how to salvage the situation gracefully.

If she needed any more reason to confirm that her break up with him had been the right course of action, his statement had confirmed it. He'd ignored everything she'd explained in the past, altered the situation for his own benefit, and then decided when and where they would marry, without any input or discussion from her. She took a deep breath. “Please Marcus, this is not the place for us to have this conversation.”

The rest of the employees in the office were now starting to gather to see the excitement of Ginny getting engaged, to a world class Quidditch player at that. She felt her face reddening in anger.

“No, Marcus.”

“Gin, you know this is what you want.”

“No, it's not what I want. I'm quite sure, and I've been telling you for the last month that I'm not interested. Please. I have work to do.”

“You don't have to work anymore, Gin. Just let me take care of you. We’ll live in grand style, you'll see. When I saw you on Saturday, obviously having a bad night, I knew that you missed me.”

He still didn't get it. Since she'd broken it off, she'd been nice, then she'd been abrupt, then tried to avoid him. It just wasn't working. So, she calmly took out her wand, vanished the flowers and leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Marcus, I am not interested. I've explained numerous times why. I suggest you leave right now and take your ring with you, or you will never, ever be able to have children. Am I clear?”

He looked into her eyes, and found himself to be just the slightest bit afraid.

As he left the office, she turned and looked at her co-workers sheepishly. It had just become a very, very long day.

- ~ -

The rest of her week passed uneventfully. The Wentworth party was only three weeks away, and Ginny only had one major glitch. It took her an entire afternoon to convince Mrs. Wentworth that getting a full grown dragon for a party of six year old children was not exactly appropriate. After using as much diplomatic tact as she could manage, Ginny had been able to convince the woman that what she really wanted was a small pony that would be charmed to look like a dragon, and they would use some enchanted fireworks to simulate dragon fire from the beast.

Aside from that, she had been able to settle back and enjoy the rest of her week. She took to flying every evening after work, practicing to perfect the maneuvers that Oliver had suggested.

She couldn't wait to go to practice the following weekend to demonstrate her improved skills.

- ~ -

“Crap Ginny! You just about flew circles around George there! You're going to make him feel old!” Fred shouted.

“Speak for yourself, Fred! You're the older one, remember?”

She landed next to Oliver, grinning with pride. “Not bad, Ginny. Not bad at all,” he said.

“You know it was brilliant. I'm the best Chaser in the league,” she replied, grinning cheekily.

“You might be, but...”

“But what?” she challenged.

“I want you to play Seeker.”

The words stunned her and she found herself speechless for several seconds while she processed the information. The only conclusion she could deduce was that somehow Oliver didn't have all the information. “But Harry plays Seeker! I know he hasn't been here the last couple of weeks because of his job, but he's the best Seeker around!”

Oliver gave a chuckle, seeming to understand her confusion. “I'll put him in at Chaser for at bit; it will be a good change for him. I want see you at Seeker. I'm sure you've got the eye for it, and definitely the speed. I don't think Harry's anywhere near as agile from the last time I've seen him.”

So, maybe Harry had gotten a bit lax over the last couple of years. He was an Auror and, like Ginny, sometimes his job required him to work weekends, so he tended to miss a lot of practice. But still, she felt guilty about replacing him. After about an hour of discussion with her and her brothers, Oliver convinced her that he'd make sure to let Harry down gently. She left the field in no small amount of shock and with even more things to practice.

- ~ -

She walked into work on Monday morning aching from her practice sessions and she loved it. Quidditch was her release. After the disastrous marriage proposal from Marcus, she was more determined than ever to shun every last shred of romance in her life. The exhausting practice sessions and now her role at work had given her a clear sense of direction and purpose. These things had been lacking in her life before and she found the change to be empowering.

She had just settled into her notes for the Wentworth party, tracking RSVPs and working on the schedule for the entertainment, when an interoffice airplane flew over and landed squarely on her desk.

Ms. Tinkerton needed to see her.

That was unusual. Ms. Tinkerton typically didn't typically interfere in function planning unless there was a problem. She quickly checked her hair and straightened her skirt, picked up her notepad and walked to her boss' office.

“Good morning, Ginny. Please have a seat,” she said, motioning to the chair in front of her desk, looking mildly upset.

“Good morning, ma'am,” Ginny said, thinking about what she might have done wrong in the Wentworth planning, and thinking that maybe the charmed pony hadn't been such a good idea after all.

“I'm afraid I have to pull you off the Wentworth function. I'd like you gather your files and transfer all the information to Sophia by the end of the day.”

The news was so abrupt, and Ms. Tinkerton looked so upset that Ginny immediately deduced that she was going to be sacked. Her heart dropped for an agonizing beat or two.

When she responded, she couldn't help but have a slight tremble in her voice. “Yes, ma'am, of course, but if you don't mind, can you tell me where I might have gone wrong? I mean the pony wasn't...”

“Oh no, Miss Weasley, you've been doing a fine job with the account. Mrs. Wentworth has been pleased with your suggestions.”

“But why...?”

“I have another function for you. One for which you've been specifically requested,” Ms. Tinkerton explained, wringing her hands. Obviously, she was not pleased with the situation.

“I don't understand.”

“This morning a rather important client came to see me. Truthfully, winning his business would be an enormous advantage for us. He's planning a silver anniversary ball for his parents and specifically asked for you to be the coordinator of the function.”

“A ball? How big of a ball?” Ginny had waitressed at a couple of formal Ministry events, and had assisted as a backup coordinator for the Ministry Christmas Ball but, overall, her work had been in the smaller functions. She was still new and relatively inexperienced, after all.

“It would be at least three hundred, possibly more.”

Ginny gasped. “Ms. Tinkerton, I don't think I'm ready for something quite so large. I mean....”

“I know, dear. I agree. You're certainly competent, and hard working. I tried to convince him that I have more experienced members on my staff, but he wanted you.”

“Oh my.”

“Worse, the ball will take place in June.”

This was very, very disturbing news. Ginny blurted out her concern, “But that's only two months away! That's rather short notice for such a big event! Ms. Tinkerton, I really don't think that this is a very good idea.”

Panic started to grow in the pit of her stomach. This was way beyond her expertise and she couldn't understand why someone might request her. Not only was the event extraordinarily large, but the time frame was extremely short. Normally, it was suggested to start working on larger events at least four to six months in advance. This was a setup for failure. No wonder her boss was looking nervous. Ginny wholeheartedly shared her concern.

“Perhaps not, but the decision has been made, and you are now the official lead on this account. I'll make sure you have plenty of back up staff but, nevertheless, you'll be the lead, oversee all activities and interact with the clients directly.”

Ginny felt just a bit overwhelmed. While this was quite an honor, it was also a daunting task.

“Who is the client?”

“I'll take you to him. He's in the conference room waiting for you.”

- ~ -

Ginny entered the room to see the familiar pale blond hair of Draco Malfoy as he stood gazing carelessly out the bay window. When he heard her close the door, he turned and smirked, the amusement on his face plainly showing.

It seemed she couldn't get through a week without some sort of major trial. Last week, it was Marcus, this week, it would be this. She breathed a heavy sigh. At least she had Quidditch to help her keep her sanity.

She decided to ignore his over-confident smirk and get right to the point. "I've heard you asked for me specifically."

"I wanted only the best, and I've seen how well you handled the Quidditch banquet."

"I'm sorry, Malfoy, but I think you're a bit misinformed. I don't think you want me for this. There are plenty of others on the staff who are much more qualified than I am. I'm sure Ms. Tinkerton told you that I've only handled smaller functions and, even then, I was the assistant coordinator, not the lead.”

He looked down at the windowsill, idly tracing patterns on the wood with his fingers as she prattled on about her concerns. Obviously, it didn't affect him in the least.

He let her finish her short rant and then slowly turned his gaze to meet hers, his expression showing no hint of wavering. “So I've been told, and I don't care.” A small, amused smirk came to his face as he took in the shock on her face. “As I told your boss, it will be you. I saw you handle things at the Quidditch event. I'm certain that you're the one for this job.”

She felt a desperate need to try to get out of this predicament as the reasons for not wanting to work with this particular client mounted in her head. She finally sputtered, “Malfoy, you've got to understand, they aren't even on the same scale! You need someone with more experience with large formal occasions. The Quidditch social was my first event as lead coordinator, it was a small garden party for a bunch of men who would have been just as happy to spend the evening in a pub!"

His smile seemed to grow wider. "There's no difference. My mother has all the experience you need. She's thrown dozens of formals. All you need to do is keep track of what she asks for and make the Floo calls."

"I don't believe that for one instant."

"Then don't. All that matters is that I've asked for you to run the event and Ms. Tinkerton knows that I'll take my business elsewhere if I don't get you."

The words made Ginny's blood run cold. He was quite serious. No wonder her boss seemed rather distraught when she'd handed her the assignment.

"You wouldn't!" To think that her company would lose the biggest event of the season, short of the Ministry Christmas pageant, would be devastating. Ms. Tinkerton would lose a large percentage of her future bookings as well, since losing an account of this size would imply that something was amiss in the company. It could ruin their reputation. But, then again, failing to pull off the impossible would as well. Not to mention that, if Ginny mucked this up, she'd also likely lose her job and her chances of owning her own business someday would be ruined. It was a no-win situation.

Finally, she silently cursed him, took a deep breath and muttered, "You don't leave me much choice."

"I like it that way." He smirked. Then, giving her a rather intense look, he began to head toward the door, as if to leave.

It was something in the look that gave her pause. It almost resembled sympathy. She decided that, if she was going to be trapped in this role, she needed to know why. Impulsively, she put her hand on his forearm, stopping his departure and immediately regretted the action. To her surprise, when he turned back, there was no annoyance in his expression, just a mild curiosity. She dropped her hand and tried to once again look composed.

"Please, there must be a reason you want me for this. Your mother will want this evening to be perfect. You really are taking a chance with me. As the lead coordinator, I really should know why, to insure that I'm addressing the issue properly."

He smiled. "I like the way you think, Weasley."

“Wonderful. That makes me feel so much better, but it doesn't convince me to do this,” she responded.

Then, he paused, contemplating her request, and the amused expression left his face. For the first time, he looked at her seriously. "You're right, you probably should know, but the information doesn't leave this room."

She agreed.

He sat down and seemed to consider what to say. Finally, after a long pause he simply stated, "You're respectable, Weasley."

"What?"

"My mother wants to have the social event of the decade and, truthfully, she needs it. As you know, my parents have been somewhat blackballed after the war."

That was an understatement. Once the most prominent and imposing Pureblooded family in Britain, the Malfoys had become nothing short of social pariahs after the downfall of Voldemort. With most of their friends either dead or in Azkaban, the Malfoys had become reclusive. One hardly ever caught sight of either Lucius or Narcissa Malfoy these days, as they seemed to prefer the seclusion of their mansion.

The entire family had escaped the same fate of the other Death Eaters only by mere chance. Narcissa had betrayed Voldemort out of love for her son, and the family had effectively stayed neutral during that final battle. They'd survived, but the family's reputation was in shambles. Draco had somehow slowly integrated back into Wizarding society and was building a reputation as a young entrepreneur. He owned a Quidditch team, a position that gave him enough visibility to advertise his respectability.

Obviously, his growing standing was not an accident, but was something he'd carefully manipulated.

"You seem to have fared well enough," she pointed out.

"I was a teenager. People are willing to accept the fact that I was able to grow up and I spend every day working to keep that reputation clean. It's still an uphill battle and I still get shunned from time to time."

"So how is my reputation in the planning of a party supposed to help?"

"First, it's not a 'party', it's a silver anniversary formal ball and, second, having you associating with my parents is a start. It will draw out some of those that were neutral in the war. It will make my parents more approachable."

"Malfoy, I don't particularly agree with that."

"I don't care if you agree. That's what you're being paid to do."

Her temper flared. "I will NOT be used like that!"

She saw a flash of annoyance cross his face, but it passed quickly as he seemed to internally debate about telling her more. Finally, he spoke. "I'm not using you, Weasley. Well, maybe I am, but it's not a ruse if that's what you think. My parents have changed."

She didn't look convinced in the least and Draco, looking at the angry woman in front of him, briefly wondered if he'd made the right decision. However, backing out now might imply that he was wrong, or perhaps admitting defeat, neither of which were acceptable options.

So he turned to look out the window and continued, "You may not believe it, but my mother and father aren't the same as what you remember. Not even close. In fact, if you met them, you'd be surprised. Things have not been easy for them since they realized that Voldemort used them. It got worse after the war ended and they lost every bit of respectability they've ever known.”

“Maybe they should have considered that before getting involved,” Ginny suggested, somewhat unkindly. He looked back at her, his gaze piercingly direct.

“They made mistakes, and they know that. I know that. They may not have been sent to Azkaban, but the end result is almost the same. I want my mother to have one night where she can forget about everything and be happy again. In order to do that, I need someone with an impeccable reputation for being on the winning side of the war. That person is you."

Ginny felt her jaw drop at his admission, her mind furiously tried to calculate whatever ulterior motive might be behind his words, and then she desperately tried to come up with any possible reason to refuse this job. Her logic failed her.

The earnest look on his face when he spoke of his mother was what made her finally agree to take the job.

---

Ginny's world suddenly rocketed into uncertainty. She'd been so happy with her little birthday party project and the nice predictability that came along with it. Her stable little environment had lasted just over one week. All it took was one encounter with Malfoy and chaos now ruled.

Initial planning of the Malfoy event started immediately after her meeting with the man ended. She began by transferring her birthday party project to one of her peers, getting her staff in order, and making an appointment to meet with Narcissa Malfoy the next day.

Ginny would be the first to admit that the prospect of meeting with Mrs. Malfoy was more than slightly intimidating. She had only seen the imposing witch on a few occasions and had never directly interacted with her. In fact, with the exception of the day Harry had defeated Voldemort, Ginny had only had glimpses of the Malfoy matriarch and those had been when she was basically a child. Ginny remembered her as an incredibly beautiful woman, who had always appeared aloof, aristocratic and somewhat haughty. But Malfoy had said she'd changed, and Ginny tried to imagine how as she apparated to the front gates of the Malfoy family manor on that chilly, dreary Tuesday morning.

The atmosphere of the day did not improve after she entered the grand building. She was led to a parlor that Narcissa apparently used as an office, where she apparently managed affairs of the manor. The room was pristine and impeccably decorated with stately furniture. Neatly bound ledgers lined the bookshelf near her desk, which was neatly adorned with an obviously expensive parchment and quill set. A stately owl perched nearby as if ready and waiting to be called to duty. Clearly, Narcissa Malfoy was a woman who expected perfection. It did not bode well for Ginny and her lack of experience.

When the lady of the manor entered, Ginny almost felt the temperature in the room drop an additional ten degrees. She fought off an involuntary shiver.

The meeting lasted for most of the morning, and Ginny thought it may well have been the longest morning of her entire life. The woman was impossible. She was cross and stern and completely unyielding. She spent much of the meeting sniffing disdainfully down her aristocratic nose at each and every suggestion Ginny brought forth. She criticized Ginny's timetable, her staffing requirements, and even her personal clothing. No wonder Malfoy had practically had to blackmail Ginny into taking the job. Nobody else would want to work with this witch, and Ginny fully realized that it would be two months of absolute hell.

She suddenly wondered why she'd wanted to succeed in this industry in the first place.

- ~ -

The rest of her week was no less demanding. Ginny found that the preparation required daily meetings and, at minimum, two daily Floo calls with the difficult woman. Each time Narcissa spoke, it was harsh, demanding and abrupt, and Ginny dealt with each comment and demand calmly and graciously, ignoring her client's demeanor. It took a massive act of will and Ginny cursed her own stubborn nature, because, for some reason, she became more and more determined. Malfoy had undoubtedly known what type of situation he was subjecting her to and the more she thought about him, the more determined she became. She desperately wanted to succeed, if only to spite the git.

By the end of the week, she was exhausted and furious, but she had the satisfaction of knowing that she'd made some progress. She had at least gotten through the most important basics, such as colors, fabrics and invitations. She assigned the task of acquiring the materials to her staff, and moved onto scheduling meal samples and selections for the next week.

If the daily interaction with Narcissa Malfoy wasn't enough, Ginny soon discovered that the contract required that she have regular meetings scheduled with Draco also, to provide overview of the project and deal with finances. As she walked into the conference room on Friday afternoon for her first meeting with him, she was practically snarling.

“She's a love, isn't she?” he stated with a wide grin as soon as Ginny entered the room glaring at him.

“Good afternoon to you too, Malfoy. You did this specifically to torment me, didn't you?”

“Not at all, Weasley. I told you my reasons already. They remain unchanged.”

She scowled, as she collapsed into one of the chairs at the conference table. “You said your parents have changed.”

“I never told you how.”

“Arrgh!” she wailed, reaching her hand up over her face and pulling her hair. The git was impossible!

He laughed.

“I'd walk away from this right now, except that I'd never work in this industry again,” she muttered.

“I thought you liked a challenge, Weasley.”

She glared at him, only because any verbal response would have certainly gotten her sacked.

“Oh, come on, she's not that bad.”

With all her heart, she wanted to Avada Kedavra him right then and there. And the look on her face said it quite plainly.

He laughed again, clearly enjoying the moment. “Believe it or not, you are doing quite well. The last one didn't last through the first meeting.”

“You've already tried another service?”

“Of course!” he admitted, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Two actually. You didn't think that I would have practically blackmailed you into this if I had other, more reasonable options, did you?”

No, of course not. She should have known.

He continued, “I was quite at a loss of what to do until I saw you swatting those pitiful faeries, and something just told me that you had the right personality to handle her.”

“You've got to be kidding me.”

“Not at all. You handled Sullivan quite well. I've never seen him fail to come to blows with Harrison at one of those events. They live for it. And then you brushed off Hutchins like a true professional. I was impressed. Next to them, my mother should be easy.”

She dropped her head on the conference table with a dull thud and groaned.

He came over and sat on the table next to her, leaning over and looking down at the despondent girl.

“You can do it, Weasley. I have confidence in you.”

She looked up and stared at him balefully. And he laughed again, a hearty full-humored laugh, which she found oddly pleasant. He obviously was finding her distress to be extremely amusing. Damn him.

“If it's any consolation, she actually seems to have some respect for you.”

“I'll mark that in my diary as the high point of my week.”

“I'm trying to help.”

“Of course you are.”

“Truly, I am.”

She picked her head up off the table, took a deep breath and attempted to bring some sanity to the meeting. “Mr. Malfoy, if you have something useful I will be happy to listen, but if the only reason you expect to meet with me weekly is to gather some sort of entertainment, I think it's time to call this and all future meetings to an end.”

“Sorry, Weasley, can't do that.”

She sighed. No, she couldn't. He'd wanted the meetings as part of the contract.

“I told you, I'm here to help. I fully intend for this event to be a success, and you'll need my advice if you expect to handle Mother.”

“Is there any possible way we can do this without me actually meeting with you in person?”

“Nope.”

She wanted to physically wipe the smug look off his face. Preferably using a very painful hex. This was going to be a long, long project.

- ~ -

She was never so happy to leave work at the end of the week. She still had several tasks to work on over the weekend, but she still managed to spend most of her time flying around her backyard pitch, practicing for her new role as Seeker. She wasn't looking forward to facing Harry but, she had to admit, she was grateful for the change. Mentally, she found the new role on the team stimulating, and it was a welcome mental distraction from her worries at work.

Two weeks later, Oliver dropped another surprise at the end of their practice with one very unexpected statement.

“I want you to try out for a position on the Falcons, Ginny.”

“What!” Fred and George heard him also, and echoed her surprise.

Oliver smiled, and calmly repeated. “I want you to try out for Seeker on the Falcons.”

It took several moments before she was able to find her voice to respond. The magnitude of the suggestion was almost beyond her comprehension. She couldn't, could she? Her mind seemed to automatically come up with all the reasons why she shouldn't. “That's what I thought you said. Oliver, there's no way. I'm a Chaser. I always have been,” she countered.

“You can't be a Chaser on a professional team, Gin. No offense, but you just aren't built for it.”

She was surprised to realize she wasn't arguing about trying out for the team, but that her argument centered more on what position she'd play.

“There are women Chasers on the Harpies.”

“And they're big, Gin, even for women. You're just a bit to small for Chaser. You could get killed with a Bludger from one of those guys, but I think with a bit more training, you can be a brilliant Seeker.”

“You're serious, aren't you?”

He nodded and looked between her and the twins. “I'll tell you all something, but it doesn't leave here.” They nodded, all three leaning in closer. “It's not public knowledge yet, but my back is getting worse, and there's no way I'll be able to finish out the season. Our secondary Keeper is going to take my place. There are going to be a couple of openings on the practice squad. Coach Raymond is going to have open trials in June and I want you to be there.”

Ginny looked to her brothers, and they were both nodding eagerly. Her shock left her speechless. Oliver looked confident, the twins had started grinning with unrestrained joy.

“You can do it, Ginny!” George said encouragingly. Both of the twins had encouraged her to do this in the past, after she'd left school and, at that time, she'd thought that they were joking. She never went after that dream and had spent the last four years regretting it. Now, another chance had been dropped soundly in her lap. Her brothers had always been firm believers that, with enough nerve, anything was possible and they wanted her to believe that as well. She loved that about them.

“Yeah, sis, you would be incredible! Think about it,” Fred said, his voice, for a rare moment, lacking all traces of humor. She looked at him letting the thought sink in, then she looked back at Oliver and saw his expression also held no trace of humor. He was quite serious.

“Being her brothers, we'd be famous, Fred,” George finally said, disrupting the serious moment.

“Absolutely, George!”

She laughed.

“But seriously Oliver, you don't think I'm too old to try out? I mean, most players are cast before they're eighteen. I'll be twenty-three in August.”

“I'd be more worried about you being a Weasley. After all, the team is owned by Malfoy, and Coach Raymond is as Slytherin as you'll find. Your family doesn't have a good history with that lot, right?”

“We could disguise her,” George offered.

“Yeah, change her hair color, and a false name, at least so that they'd give her a fair chance,” Fred said.

Oliver nodded in agreement, then turned back to her. “So, what do you say, Ginny? Want to have a shot at playing professionally?”

She looked among the three enthusiastic faces in front of her and felt her heart lift with happiness. They believed in her. She was good. She was really that good. How could she not give it a chance?

She smiled at the three of them and nodded vigorously. They would help her, and she would get the chance she'd always dreamed of.

There was only one major issue that seemed to be in her way. Trials were scheduled to be in June, and she had the Malfoy ball to work on at the same time. The timing could not be worse. If she didn't make the team, she'd still have to worry about maintaining her career. Something told her she'd be getting very, very little sleep in the next few weeks. But, truthfully, at the moment, she didn't really care.

As the weeks passed, she found her patience being drawn to its absolute limit. She would have quit if she felt that it would have been at all in her best interest. Unfortunately, it wasn't, and for the hundredth time since she'd started working on the Malfoy project, she once again found herself questioning her career choice, or lack thereof. If only she'd planned her future, like her friends had, she could have possibly found a path that was more agreeable to her, but she remained reluctant to outright say that her choice to work in the catering industry had been a mistake. She was, after all, not entirely unhappy for most projects, and it did suit her personality well, except, perhaps, when it came to dealing with Narcissa Malfoy.

“I've decided that I don't want quail for the main course,” Narcissa informed her only three weeks before the ball.

Ginny fought down the urge to strangle the woman. She'd changed almost every single detail at least three times. Almost always, the changes involved Ginny being required to obtain an article that was more exotic, or difficult to locate.

“I understand, Mrs. Malfoy. May I ask why? You seemed quite pleased with Chef Martin's creation last week.”

“I've decided that I probably won't be in the mood for something so common. I believe I would like to go with a more unique fare.”

Ginny nodded, carefully repressing a sigh. “Of course, Mrs. Malfoy. Should I ask Chef Martin to return with other selections for you to sample?”

The older woman gave a short sniff, indicating disdain. “No, I've decided that I don't like Chef Martin. He's far too thin. Chefs should not be thin; it makes one think that they dislike their own creations.”

Egad, she really was going to strangle the woman. If Ginny didn't smooth this over, she'd likely never get the somewhat elite chef to ever work for her agency again, and goodness knew if she was going to be able to find someone else on such short notice.

“Yes, Mrs. Malfoy, but may I remind you, that you did enjoy all the items Chef Martin brought for you during his last visit.”

Mrs. Malfoy said nothing, apparently no longer interested in the subject, turning her attention to a list of music selections for the event.

Ginny knew better than to prod the woman. If she was lucky, Mrs. Malfoy would once again change her mind before Ginny actually had to begin the work of finding a new chef. If she had learned anything over the last few weeks, it was that jumping to cater to the woman's whim was far from effective. If she waited a short time, sometimes even a day or so, she'd find that Mrs. Malfoy would settle onto a more reasonable position. The aristocratic woman's rants usually were a way of her thinking aloud and Ginny had suffered through far too many occurrences.

Ginny had, fortunately, been warned about this during her first week or so on the job by Draco. After their first meeting, where he'd initially derived a great deal of amusement over her stressful encounters with his mother, Draco Malfoy had managed to become almost useful. Oddly enough, he'd become her one anchor of sanity during the entire month that she'd been working with her client. He'd warned Ginny about Narcissa's changes in moods, what details she truly felt to be important, and what she would most likely waver on and change during the last weeks. He'd also suggested how Ginny should react verbally when Narcissa seemed to be particularly difficult.

- ~ -

“Why is she so fickle about all this?” she finally asked Draco during their latest session, with no small amount of frustration showing on her face.

He grinned broadly. “Ah, she's growing on you. I can tell.”

“Don't start that again, Malfoy. I'm prematurely aging due to this little shindig. It would just be nice to know why.”

“Ours is not to know why, my dear little Weasel.”

“And, would you please stop calling me that!”

“It's a pet name, Weasley, and while a weasel is not exactly on the common pet list, it still fits.”

“You realize that I really, truly hate you at this moment,” she said unconvincingly.

It was normal for them to spar like this throughout their meetings. He seemed to enjoy finding new and creative ways to irritate her, and the shorter her temper, the more he seemed to enjoy himself.

“Somehow, I doubt that. You find me far too interesting,” he stated, as he leaned forward propping his chin on his hand and smiling charmingly at her. It was his usual tactic, to provoke her mercilessly, then back off and look all charming and sweet. His arrogance knew no limitations, apparently. She was stuck with him and had to tolerate it because he was a paying customer. A very important paying customer. Yet, she had to agree, the man had charisma. Too bad he had the ego to go along with it.

Sometimes, she swore, he only came here to irritate her, and despite the fact that he actually did give some useful information, he really loved getting on her nerves.

There were moments, however, that she almost enjoyed being with him. They were rare, but every so often he seemed to let his guard down just enough to allow her to see what was behind his facade. She realized that her last question had apparently provoked one of those times.

He leaned back and gave a sigh. Yes, she thought, it was definitely one of those moments. She leaned forward with interest.

“It's not the ball itself that has her knickers in a twist,” he told her, sounding almost as defeated as Ginny felt. “It's what it means to her.” Ginny watched as his face took on an almost wistful expression. “She desperately wants to make a good impression to improve the family standing, and rather than focus on the social implications, she's directing her energy on what she can control which, unfortunately, includes everything you do.”

Ginny nodded, processing his words in an attempt to understand the difficult woman's motivation.

Unfortunately, as quickly as it came, the soft expression on Draco's face had gone, and Ginny decided to move back to business to avoid any uncomfortable moments.

“Do you have any more information on the final guest list?” she asked, knowing that this was the area that Draco was referring to with his last statement. One of the most challenging parts of this project was the guest list. To say Lucius and Narcissa had fallen into disfavor within the Ministry and higher social circles was an understatement at best. Most persons with any aspirations for advancement within the Ministry openly avoided contact with Lucius due to his past history. It made it difficult to convince those same people to attend a ball in the Malfoys' honor.

Draco had indeed been spending his time trying to rebuild the Malfoy name, as he'd told her. Ginny was no fool - she'd checked into it. But the good reputation that Draco was beginning to establish was still new and extremely fragile. He was only turning twenty-four years old and, while his name was slowly becoming more reputable, it was only in small social circles and limited to the business community, hence the difficulty with his action item for the ball, which was the guest list.

“I've already convinced most of my parents' old acquaintances - no surprises there. It's mostly anyone with ties to the Ministry that are hedging. I've been able to get a meeting with Minister Shacklebolt next week. I might be able to get him to attend, in the interest of building better relations within the community, putting the past behind us and such. If he agrees, then the others will probably fall in line.”

Ginny hesitated, wondering if he was going to ask for her help. She was relieved when he didn't. The fact that he was leaving her out of it raised her respect for him a bit, since he easily could try to use her reputation or her family's personal friendship with the Minister, if needed.

“I think the argument of promoting unity is a good one,” she said after pondering his words. “It's a non-political function, I don't see why he won't agree. I would definitely focus on that. If your parents are really as changed as you say, then it would be the best for all of us to mend this rift.”

She truly hoped that what he was saying was the truth. Yet, he seemed so unguarded when he spoke of it, that she couldn't help but think that he was either being truthful or he was one of the best actors she'd ever met. She sincerely hoped it was the former.

- ~ -

As the month of May progressed, Ginny fought to find enough time to fly the patterns that Oliver had assigned, each one more difficult and complex than the last. She found herself rising early for a short flight before breakfast, skipping lunch to get some time between her meetings, and going to bed each night exhausted, both mentally and physically. In ways, she felt more alive than ever. Her life right now was, at the very least, interesting.

With only two weeks remaining before the ball and the trials the following week, Oliver had been dropping by to view her progress almost daily. After a particularly harrowing session, Ginny was seriously reconsidering her decision to even attempt going to the trials. Few witches ever made it into professional Quidditch and, as Oliver had pointed out, the ones who did were typically a much bigger build than Ginny's five foot two inch stature could ever manage.

She landed, tired and winded, her hands sore from gripping the broom handle, snitch firmly in her hand.

“Not bad Ginny, not bad at all.” He smiled. “I think you're ready.”

“You've got to be joking.”

“I wouldn't joke with you about this. You have a real chance to make it. All we need is to set up your disguise.”

“I don't think I need it, Oliver. It doesn't seem right. If I can't make it onto this team as myself, I don't want to do it.”

“You won't make it as yourself. Coach Raymond was a hardcore Slytherin while he was in Hogwarts, even though it was decades ago, and he still holds some sort of school grudge. If I hadn't already been on the team when he came on board last season, there was no way I'd be there now. He's as bad as Snape used to be to anyone who's a known Gryffindor. Besides Ginny, they won't even consider you if they know your real age. They want eighteen-year-olds.”

“It just seems so... dishonest.”

“It will just be for a few weeks. Don't worry, I've got it all worked out.”

So, she agreed, with a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach as he, Fred and George worked on finding a variety of spells and charms to alter her appearance enough to fool her own mother, but not impact her flying ability.

They settled on changing her hair to a light brown, shortening the length, so that she could fly without having to pull it back. Her eyes were changed to a dark brown, making them look larger. But the final, most embarrassing alteration was when George cast a spell to deflate her chest size a bit.

“George!”

“C'mon Ginny, we've got to change you're body type a little bit and this won't affect the way you fly.”

“I thought you only knew spells to enhance that particular part of the anatomy,” she grumbled at him.

“Well, it always helps to have a counter spell, for when the lady in question is ready to hex your remaining ear off,” he explained. No doubt, she thought, silently sympathizing with whatever witch had been subjected to his ministrations. It was a good thing she loved her brother so much.

“You tried that on Camille, didn't you,” she stated. Her friend had been dating George over the last few months, and she knew Camille's personality well enough to know that the girl was more than capable of containing George's enthusiasm with force, if necessary.

He smiled sheepishly, confirming Ginny's speculation.

After they finished, she looked in the mirror and saw a girl that reminded her of a field mouse. Oliver had even gotten her a new name: Francine Miller, an American. The identity wouldn't be so easily traced as a fake if it was from another country, he'd told her. Great. So, on top of it, she had to fake an American accent. Apparently there were several varieties, and she had to pick one. It wasn't easy, and she kept slipping into her normal speech pattern if she didn't concentrate. Worse, even if she did concentrate on it, the accent sounded horrible.

Fred eventually found a spell to help her, but the ugly twang of the accent was terribly annoying and still sounded fake to Ginny's ears. She decided that Francine was going to be a very quiet girl. The less anyone heard that accent, the better.

And so, Ginny's alter ego was born. Oliver immediately went to get Francine's name on the list for trials.

- ~ -

Ginny charged into the office on Tuesday morning, late. Everything seemed to have gone wrong that day. Aside from oversleeping, because she was so exhausted from working long hours and practicing, she had found out only that morning that trials for the Falcons were that same afternoon. To keep Francine's anonymity, her alter ego's owls were currently being delivered to Fred and George's shop in Diagon Alley. Unfortunately, redirecting her mail had caused a delay in receiving the messages.

To make matters worse, the time scheduled for the trials directly conflicted with a meeting scheduled for the Malfoy project.

She raced to her desk, tossing her purse on the chair and rummaging in her file cabinet. “Camille, I need you're help!” she shouted in the direction of her friend's desk.

“Oh no, what does the old bat want today?” Camille responded, walking over to Ginny with trepidation.

Ginny paused to catch her breath, before pulling out the necessary files and turning back to her friend. “Nothing out of the ordinary, for her, and please don't call the client a bat. If Ms. Tinkerton caught you, you'd be sacked on the spot.”

“Sorry. You know what I mean," she replied, her smile indicating that she wasn't exactly apologetic. "I haven't had a day off since this project started and, quite frankly, if I have to Floo Brazil again for some exotic concoction she decides she wants, I'm going to go positively insane.”

“Anyway, it's not Mrs. Malfoy. I need to be someplace this afternoon, and I have a meeting with Mr. Malfoy. I need you to cover it.”

“Another meeting with him, Ginny? Good heavens, you'd think you were dating the man.”

Ginny cringed at the implication. “Don't make me ill, Camille. I'm looking forward to this thing being over next week and, hopefully, I'll never have to see him again.”

“Well, at least when he comes here, he always seems to be in a good mood.”

“Ha!” Ginny barked out a sarcastic laugh. “His favorite activity at every meeting is to make fun of me and laugh at how his mother is driving me bonkers. Of course he's in a good mood because it's at my expense. I'm sure it's the highlight of his week.”

“Oh, Ginny, he's not that bad.”

Ginny gave a sigh, apparently Camille was also part of the Draco Malfoy Fan Club, along with the rest of the staff. They all seemed to think that he was handsome and charming, for some reason. Ginny sincerely believed that she was the only woman in the office who was immune to his charm.

“Well, you get to meet with him today. I've got something important to do, and I'm not letting him interfere with it.”

“Dare I ask what?” she asked.

“I really can't say. It's personal, and it's very, very important to me,” Ginny replied.

“Tell me it doesn't have to do with a man,” her friend prodded.

Well, technically, this had to do with Oliver Wood talking her into it, but that was hardly relevant. Ginny felt it was best to give a small amount of misdirection.

“Not exactly,” was all she could say. “Just take the file. I have all the latest adjustments to the menu ready. Remind him of the pricing changes, though he'll say he doesn't care, and try to find out if his mother is planning on changing the party favors again, because it's getting a little late to reorder some of the arrangements from overseas, due to customs.”

That afternoon Camille entered the conference room and for the first time since the project began two months ago, she saw Draco's normally cheerful demeanor turn sour. The meeting was short, formal, and rather uninteresting. No wonder Ginny hated the meetings, she thought.

Ginny left work feeling guilty for faking an illness for her boss. At least Camille had been understanding about Ginny needing the afternoon off and Ginny decided she'd have to come up with some way to thank her friend for covering.

Rushing home, she ran into the broom shed and found that her Firebolt was missing. A horrified, sinking feeling overcame her as she realized she'd left the broom back at work, where she'd intended to take it out for a quick flight at lunch. It was too late to go back, because it would risk being caught in her lie, or worse, cause her to be unavoidably detained. She stared sadly at her old Comet, sitting alone in the shed. Refusing to admit defeat, she grabbed the old broom and rushed to make the tryout on time.

She arrived at the Quidditch pitch disguised as Francine. At first, she felt odd but the encouraging nod from Oliver, who was already there with the rest of the team, gave her the final incentive to step onto the field, her old broom clutched firmly in her hands.

She was the only witch there, and her competition was indeed larger and heavier than she. Much larger. And she didn't even want to think about the expensive new brooms they all seemed to be holding. She forced the doubts from her mind. In fact, she forgot about all of it as soon as she took to the air, flying patterns and maneuvers that demanded she use every last ounce of strength and dexterity in her possession. Her small size turned to her advantage, as she could twist and dive without fighting the bulk of her own momentum like most of the others. She skillfully and artfully dodged Bludgers and maintained her focus in each and every task they asked of her and, by the time she landed, she was feeling confident.

As she stopped for a break while another group of potential candidates took to the air, she noticed that Draco had arrived to oversee the activity. The meeting with Camille must have ended early, she guessed, because he probably wanted to be here to see his new team prospects. She noted that he looked to be more grumpy than usual and her mind shot back to work, wondering if something bad had happened during the meeting. She trusted Camille completely, but with only a few days before the event, she worried that something unexpected may have come up.

She was asked to fly three more times, each time against different team members or against one of the other candidates. Each time, her mind emptied of all thoughts except flying her ancient broom for all it was worth.

Finally, at the end of the session she lined up with everyone, once again feeling somewhat short, and waited for the final word of her fate.

As the coach looked at the row of competitors critically, the team captain, Roger Egan walked over to her and gave her an encouraging smile.

“Francine, isn't it?”

“Y-yes,” she responded, trying to sound American.

“Is that your broom?” he said, looking at her skeptically.

“A Comet Special 360,” she replied.

“I haven't seen one of those since I was a kid,” he remarked, staring down at the broom. He made a small grunting noise and walked away.

Great. Just great, she muttered to herself.

Shortly after, they were all informed that they'd receive owls in the next week or so with the team decision. Of the two dozen who had applied, there were only three slots available for the practice squad. If chosen for the practice squad, they would be further evaluated for future positions on the starting team.

With those curt words, the coach thanked them for their time and they were dismissed.

Ginny walked off the field, feeling that, regardless of the decision, she'd done her best. Even if nothing came of it, she knew that she had at least tried. She went to the ladies room to change her clothing and charm her appearance back to normal before she left the stadium.

Oliver Wood caught up with her just outside the stadium entrance.

“You did great, Ginny,” he told her.

She smiled up at him. “Well, I did my best, can't ask for more than that, right?”

“Absolutely!” He beamed at her. “I can tell you that Raymond is impressed, especially after Roger noticed that you flew circles around your competition on a broom that's older than most members on the team.”

Ginny chuckled. “Well, I found out early in life that I just have to be that much better to overcome that, especially flying against my brothers. I suppose it's helped over the years.”

She started to move on, wanting to take a walk for a bit before going home. “Ginny.” Oliver stopped her. She turned. “Can I take you to dinner?”

Before she could answer, a rather annoyed drawl came out behind her, “Weasley?”

She felt herself jump nervously. Oh, crap. Malfoy was still here, and apparently just leaving after watching the trials.

All ability to speak coherently seemed to abandon her. “Oh, umm...”

“You missed our meeting today,” he said curtly, looking between her and Oliver.

“I'm sorry. I had some personal business to attend to. ”

“Which just happened to bring you here?” he said suspiciously, his eyes narrowed as he glanced at Oliver once again.

Oh great, he thought she slipped work just to meet up with Oliver on a date or something. She found herself annoyed that he should care. She'd spent the last seven weeks doing nothing but jump at his and his mother's every whim and he had the gall to be annoyed that she missed one little meeting?

“No, Mr. Malfoy,” she responded coldly. “My business was personal. I'm sure Camille will fill me in on any important details first thing tomorrow morning.” With that, she turned to depart, leaving a very annoyed Draco Malfoy behind.

Of course, the next morning, she received an owl from 'him' demanding a reschedule of their missed meeting. Worse, he wanted her to meet at the manor the next day so that Narcissa could also be present, to go over the final schedule.

“Ugh.” Ginny sighed as she read the note, looking over at Camille. “He wasn't too happy that I wasn't here yesterday, was he?”

“I've got to say that it was about as unpleasant as I've ever seen him.”

“You didn't go to school with the prat. He's a master of being unpleasant. I'm only surprised that he's been tolerable for the last two months. It was only a matter of time before his true nature came out.”

“I doubt it's that,” Camille joked. “I think he just likes you,” as she gave Ginny an evil grin.

“Oh, puh-leeze!” Ginny tossed a balled up piece of parchment at her friend. “Next he'll be dipping the end of my braid into the ink pot, is that what you're saying?”

And they giggled and got back to work.

- ~ -

She was going to be so happy in three days when this blasted event would be over and done. Only three more days, and no more Malfoy, no more Narcissa. She could take the week off and then move onto a nice, sane, normal project. She couldn't wait.

As the house-elf opened the door, Ginny automatically started to move in the direction of Narcissa's parlor, where they usually met. She was surprised when the elf led her further down the hall. The dark woodwork along the route was decorated with elegant paintings that caught Ginny's attention, so much so, that she failed to recognize that there were several voices coming from the room that she entered.

The room was a large study with many windows, but the brightness of the room was tempered with deep golden yellow wall coverings and dark cherry woodwork - a man's study. Near the windows sat Draco and Narcissa and, as she recognized the third person, who was standing to rise to greet her, she felt as if all the breath had been knocked out of her. She couldn't breathe.

She hadn't expected Lucius Malfoy to be there also.

Clutching her hand to her tightened chest, she barely muttered an “excuse me,” as she backed quickly out of the room.

She walked stiffly out into the hallway, feeling slightly ill. She'd forgotten about him. After the weeks of working with Narcissa and Draco, she'd dropped her guard. The two had been difficult individuals to work with, but in the end, she had been able to understand them and see them simply as people. Difficult and demanding clients, but people nonetheless.

This was different. This was Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater, and the man who had indirectly tried to kill her twelve years ago.

She'd been so focused on simply doing her job that she'd completely forgotten.

She started to hyperventilate.

Draco hurried into the hall, only a few seconds behind her. His voice showing concern, he asked, “Weasley, are you all right?”

“I just need a minute,” she choked out.

“You look like you've seen a ghost,” he stated.

She just shook her head in a “no”, still looking outright terrified, and very much forcing herself to take deep, calming breaths.

“Oh good,” Draco muttered. “I was worried great-uncle Alastair might be up to his old habits again.”

She stared sourly at him. The ridiculous remark at least got her mind out of the panic so she could breathe again.

“Seriously, Weasley. What's wrong? I'd rather not have you dying in my house. I have a reputation to keep.”

She looked up and saw honest concern in his eyes, taking the edge off his comment. She didn't know if she should say anything or not. She somehow knew that she'd see Lucius at the party but she hadn't been prepared to see him now, in a more private setting, and have to actually interact with the man.

Draco placed a hand on her shoulder and she looked up, taking as deep a breath as she could. “Your father...” she started to say.

Just at that moment, Lucius Malfoy himself exited the study, also appearing concerned.

“Draco, is everything all right here?”

“I think so, Father. Ginevra was just trying to explain what's wrong.”

She stared at Lucius, desperately trying to keep from looking like she was as shaken as she felt. As she looked at the man, she realized he wasn't quite as tall as Draco, and his features no longer seemed as hard as she'd remembered.

As Lucius looked at her, obviously noting that her reaction was due to him, he frowned and the look in his eyes showed something akin to sadness.

“Son, wait inside, please. I'd like to have a word with Miss. Weasley, if you don't mind.”

Draco nodded and looked at Ginny, her eyes begging him not to leave her alone with his father. “It's all right, Ginevra, I'll be right inside here,” he said, motioning toward the open doorway. He and his father exchanged a glance and Draco disappeared into the room.

Ginny stood up as tall as she could and looked directly into Lucius' eyes. She would not show her fear, not if she could help it.

“My presence seems to have affected you,” he started.

“Not at all, Mr. Malfoy. I... I simply needed to ...” she stammered, trying to come up with a plausible excuse to explain her panic attack at the sight of the man.

“Please, Ginevra, there's no need to apologize. I don't wish to cause you any discomfort.”

Discomfort! What an understatement.

“Mr. Malfoy, I'm fine now. Why don't we just go on with the meeting. I presume that you'll be joining us for the final arrangements for Saturday,” she said, trying to sound calm and professional as she took a step to move into the room.

“Please wait, Miss. Weasley. I would like to talk with you privately about a certain matter.”

“Really, Mr. Malfoy there's no need...” He put out a hand and stopped her from stepping closer to the room. She froze and took a deep gulp of air. There was no avoiding this, so she turned to him. “All right then, Mr. Malfoy, what, may I ask, is on your mind?” She tried her best to look as calm and cool as possible but knew that she was failing miserably.

“There is a certain matter for which I feel the need to apologize to you, Miss. Weasley.”

“Excuse me?”

She had to admire the man. He had a charisma that emanated from him; the same charisma she'd seen in Draco. Now that he was looking at her without the sneer that she'd been so accustomed to seeing on him when she was younger, she could understand how and why he'd been so influential in the Ministry in the past.

She looked into his eyes and saw the same sadness that she'd noticed earlier. Draco had said the man had changed, and maybe it was true, but Ginny still felt no compulsion to trust him.

“I understand that you have no love for me. In fact, I am impressed that you are even here considering your past history.”

“I had no idea that you would be present for today's meeting, Mr. Malfoy,” she said.

“I am talking about the last two months of coming to the manor to meet with my wife.”

“It's my job, sir. If I expect to be successful in my chosen career, I can't let past prejudices affect my work.”

He smiled. “I like that answer. Ambition is good motivation, is it not?”

“I suppose it is. But that isn't why you wanted to speak to me, is it?”

“No, it's far more personal than that.” He paused, studying her face closely. She wondered if he was using some form of Legilimency on her, and she didn't really care if he was. If he wanted to see her anger toward him about Tom Riddle's diary, she had no qualms about making it quite clear to him. “You have good reason to dislike me, Miss. Weasley, I won't deny that, but I would like to make clear to you that you have no reason to fear me. I have no wish to do you, or your family, any harm. My time with the Dark Lord is over, and has been for several years.”

Of course, Ginny thought, she had no reason to fear. He'd end up in Azkaban quicker than a Snitch. As for the Dark Lord thing, she sincerely doubted that. He'd said that after the first war also, and look where that took them.

“Circumstances have changed, Ginevra,” he said calmly. “I was betrayed by him as much as any. Worse so, since I almost lost all that I loved because of my loyalty to him. Do not fear my past.”

“I don't fear you,” she lied.

He smiled. “Of course not. You are a Gryffindor, but I don't wish to argue with you.”

She wished he would just get on with what he had to say. He seemed to be delaying.

“I wanted to speak with you because I want to apologize for the wrong I did to you all those years ago.”

What? She felt her mouth drop open.

“It is not easy to admit when one makes a mistake,” he continued, showing some small amusement at the surprise in her reaction. But then his face became serious again, as the sadness returned to his eyes. “I have learned that I was wrong to have followed Voldemort. I can name any number of reasons as to why I chose that path, but they matter not. I make no excuses for the choices I made in following him. But of all the things I have been guilty of, the one thing I most regret has been attempting to use you, when you were a mere child, as an instrument for the Dark Lord's return.”

He was apologizing to her. She tried to wrap her head around the concept but it didn't seem real. She remained silent and he continued.

“I don't ask for your forgiveness, Ginevra, there is no such thing for so heinous of an act. I only ask that you accept my apology, and not hold my actions against my family.”

She remained stonily silent, gaping at him. Finally, after what seemed like several minutes of silence, she replied, “I don't know what to say to that, Mr. Malfoy.”

“You needn't say anything. Just consider my words. I truly do regret harming you, Ginevra, and I am eternally grateful that Riddle's efforts with you failed.”

She nodded mutely. She couldn't say anything to either accept or reject his words. As he'd said, all she could do was consider them.

He motioned to invite her back into the room. “Now, shall we join the others and discuss more pleasant topics?”

She followed him into the room. Draco was waiting for them just inside the doorway. She had little doubt that he had over heard everything and was grateful that he'd been nearby during the entire encounter. He gently placed his hand on her back and guided her over to the table where the four discussed the final preparations and schedule for the ball.

Chapter 6 - The Skiving Snack Box Debacle

The day of the Malfoy Anniversary Ball dawned sunny and warm, as days in mid-June had a tendency to do. Ginny rose early to go to the manor to oversee the final preparations and ensure that everything remained on schedule. It was going to be a very, very long day.

Her mother, bless her, had prepared a nice breakfast for her which she ate quickly. She suspected that it would likely be her only chance to sit down and eat, and Ginny appreciated her mother's thoughtfulness.

“I do hope everything goes well, sweetheart,” her mother said, while Ginny hurriedly slapped jam onto her toast.

“No need to worry, Mum. It's just another event. The worst of it was in all the preparation...”

“I'll be so proud of you no matter how it turns out, dear,” her mother finished for her. Ginny smiled at her.

“I'll just be glad tonight when this is over. I think I'll be sleeping for a week.”

Molly frowned, still apparently worried about her daughter having to spend so much time over the last few weeks with people she didn't trust. “I'll be glad when this is over too,” she agreed.

“It hasn't been that bad, Mum,” she said, tiring of her mother's frequent reference to the project. “It's just that it’s a tough project. The Malfoys haven't been any worse to deal with than any other socialites I've seen or heard about at the office. They are all the same when it comes to planning these things. The impression they give is very important to them and that's why they hire us.”

“It’s good you have such a positive attitude. It's no wonder you're so successful at this job of yours.”

Ginny didn't miss the hint and gave a small grimace. Her mother meant no harm but, once again, with the tone of that last simple statement, she'd subtly mentioned that Ginny spent too much time on her career instead of settling down and starting a family. Ginny sighed and forced herself to ignore the slight.

“Mum, I really do enjoy my job.”

“Yes, dear, but you have to admit that spending so much time with people like those Malfoys can't be healthy for you.”

Ginny gave a sigh and paused to gulp down some juice before responding. “They've been fine, Mum, really. Actually, I'm a bit glad I've spent all this time with them. I think that it's given me a bit of a different perspective on how they've changed since the war.”

“A man like Lucius doesn't change, Ginny. Don't let them try to fool you,” her mother scolded.

“I've only seen him once, actually, and I'm not sure that that's true, Mum. He was different.. Rather quiet. He looked older. Narcissa has become almost tolerable now that I've learned to read her a bit, and Draco...”

“I certainly hope he's not treating you like he did when you and Ron were in school.”

“No, Mum, he's grown up, matured, I guess. He's still a royal arse, but I've actually had several normal conversations with him. He can be almost tolerable at times.”

“That's good to know.”

Molly seemed appeased, and Ginny was glad to see it. She really didn't want to be worrying about her mother while she was working that day. Finishing her food, she left for work before her mother could question her further.

- ~ -

Ginny's day turned out to be just as hectic as she'd imagined it would. When she arrived at the manor, most of her staff was already well underway, setting decorations and starting the early meal preparations.

Her first action was to meet with the reporter from the Daily Prophet. Being a society ball, it was expected that the evening would be covered in the newspaper's society section and Ginny had already arranged a press release. In addition, a photographer from the Prophet would be there to take the appropriate pictures of the Who's Who of the Wizarding socialites. It was all the more reason for Ginny to do everything possible to make sure the event ran smoothly.

By noon, the plan seemed to be coming together well, with only small adjustments being needed. The ballroom was filled with dozens of floating silver globes, each charmed to glow with silver and blue star fire patterns which would be used to light the room instead of candles for the evening. The walls were decorated in large silver tapestries, also charmed to sparkle with complementary patterns. After dark, Ginny expected that the room would look like a faerie tale princess' fantasy. She hoped it was all that Narcissa had expected.

By mid-afternoon, Ginny's feet ached. She didn't recall having the opportunity to sit down even once during the day as she raced to each location, verifying schedules and supplies and smoothing out any small discrepancies. She was so grateful she wore her most comfortable shoes but, even with an added cushioning charm, they failed to help her after six hours on her feet.

Narcissa made several appearances throughout the preparations to ensure that everything was still being done to her satisfaction. She would enter the room, stare coldly at the staff then give Ginny a curt nod. Ginny could only assume that Narcissa was satisfied.

It was around three o'clock that everything went to Hades in a hand basket.

As it happened, Ginny had been in the main ballroom working on relocating the dinner tables. The musicians had arrived, and needed more room than they'd planned, forcing her to adjust the seating plan. A problem, certainly, she thought, but nothing insurmountable. She was in the middle of floating one of the tables to its new location when Draco literally charged into the room and immediately marched over to her, looking disheveled and annoyed.

He hadn't been around all day, and Ginny had been grateful for the lack of interference. She'd been quite certain that he'd purposely spend at least some of his time making sure that she was ruffled, and she'd been prepared to have him forcibly removed from the area if he did. With that thought in mind, she gave a moment's thought of ignoring him as he charged across the room, but abandoned the idea when she realized that the look on his face held no hint of his usual teasing manner.

“Is my mother nearby?” he asked sharply, without offering any greeting whatsoever.

“I believe she's out in the garden, checking on the placement of some of the ice sculptures,” she answered, as she carefully lowered the aforementioned table into place.

“I need to speak with her, and you, immediately.”

She motioned to the nearest staff member. “Can you please find Camille and have her take over for me here?” As the woman nodded and began to comply with her instructions, she followed Draco out the back wall of glass doors to the outside patio.

Narcissa was there, as expected, looking as stern and unyielding as was usual for her. By contrast, the young man who'd gotten trapped with the duty of rearranging the area to her satisfaction seemed to be looking rather frazzled as he worked to move one of the larger stone items around the patio.

Draco ignored the activity and addressed his mother almost as shortly as he did to Ginny, “Mother, we need to speak.”

“Has something happened, Draco darling?” she asked.

“We can speak of it in your parlor, Mother,” he replied calmly, although Ginny could now see that he truly was upset.

Narcissa nodded sharply and turned to the harried-looking boy working on the patio. “You are dismissed. I'll attend to this later.” Ginny was almost amused as the boy practically ran from the area at the sound of her sharp tone. She made a mental note to give him some encouragement later.

Draco led the way down the hall, still looking worried. As soon as they entered the parlor, he closed the doors and began speaking quickly.

“Pansy won't be able to attend this evening, Mother.”

Narcissa said nothing, but Ginny could tell she was upset by the way her mouth set into a straight line and her complexion became just a shade lighter. Ginny took in a deep breath, watching the interaction between the two Malfoys. Apparently, since she had been asked to be present for this discussion, Ginny presumed that this little dilemma was somehow going to fall squarely on her shoulders.

“Draco, it's only four hours until the guests begin arriving. This is not convenient,” Narcissa stated in a clipped tone.

Ginny had to say that she was fascinated by the way these people spoke. From their point of view, this was a bit of a crisis, yet, the only sign of Narcissa's agitation was a minor change in her tone and facial expression. She couldn't help but compare the reaction to what she'd become accustomed to within her own emotional, high-tempered family.

“I understand, Mother. Unfortunately, there's been a bit of an accident.”

Narcissa's expression softened slightly, with what Ginny determined to be concern. “She's all right, I do hope.”

“She'll be fine, in a day or so, but I can't expect her to try to attend this evening,” Draco responded.

Ginny wondered why this was such a big deal. Pansy had been expected to escort Draco for the evening. He'd wanted her to hostess partly because of her long history as a friend of the family. The politics of the matter had seemed rather silly in Ginny's view, but it had a great deal to do with appearance and social standing in their high-society. All that Ginny had gathered during the planning was that Pansy was actually engaged to another wizard, so therefore, she could act as hostess, but not be viewed as being attached to the Malfoy heir.

“May I ask what happened?” Narcissa inquired.

“Well, it's a rather long story, I'm afraid...” he began, and then went on to explain that Pansy and her mother had been visiting Mrs. Parkinson's sister-in-law that day. During the visit, apparently, two nephews felt that it would be rather good fun to experiment with some joke items that they'd received by owl order recently. The children managed to slip several of the items, disguised as treats, onto the dessert tray at lunch where Pansy and her mother both ingested them and subsequently came down with some rather serious symptoms.

“Fortunately, Mrs. Parkinson's fever has gone down, but Pansy still is covered in hives,” Draco concluded.

Ginny was torn. Part of her wanted to giggle at the image that popped into her head. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself, since the others present obviously did not see the humor in the situation.

“Where in the world would children get something so vile?” Narcissa asked indignantly.

Ginny felt her face go white. The description of the symptoms was quite clear to her. She'd sold countless numbers of the items while working at her brothers' joke shop. The Skiving Snack box, invented by none other than Fred and George Weasley, had claimed another pair of victims.

“Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes,” Draco replied, giving Ginny a glance that showed all his annoyance about her brothers' shop.

“Oh, Merlin,” Ginny felt herself mutter, forcing herself not to hide her face in her hands. She suddenly became certain, beyond any doubt, that this incident was going to impact her directly. She just didn't know how just yet.

“The items are generally harmless,” Draco continued. “But Pansy is absolutely distraught and doesn't want to be seen in her current condition.”

If the situation hadn't seemed so dire for the Malfoys, Ginny might have found it amusing. Her only consolation was that it would be quite funny to recount the incident to Harry and her brothers at the next family gathering.

“I'll just have to host by myself, Mother,” he said with resignation.

“You'll do no such thing,” his mother stated, without room for discussion. “You know full well what will happen if you don't have someone to accompany you. I'll not have you being pulled in every direction by every single female in the room. This is an evening for your father and myself, and I need you to handle matters. I can't have your attention focused on some trivial social climber who decides to corner you.”

So there was the problem, Ginny gathered. Draco Malfoy, young, handsome, wealthy, and extremely unattached was definitely considered to be quite a catch. Their concern was that every available witch would clearly be taking the opportunity to capture his attention. The situation would obviously cause nothing but problems with Narcissa's carefully planned evening. Narcissa clearly wanted him to handle hosting the event, so that she and Lucius could enjoy their evening as the guests of honor. Hence, the emergency about Pansy's sudden cancellation.

“Yes, Mother. But, my choices at this late hour are rather limited...” he began to say, but stopped without completing the statement. After a moment's pause he turned his gaze from his mother to focus directly on Ginny.

The pause in the conversation was quite noticeable.

“What?” Ginny asked.

“Of course!” Narcissa agreed, also looking at Ginny. “Good choice, my son.”

“What?” Ginny repeated again, feeling a bit like she was being cornered for something dreadful.

“Ginevra,” Draco asked calmly, almost politely. “Would you care to escort me this evening to the ball?”

Her mouth opened in a big “O,” as in to begin stating “oh no,” as emphatically as possible. She tried to process what she'd just heard, and decided that she must have imagined it. She stammered for a moment. Then, realizing that Draco was looking at her for an answer, the words, “I couldn't,” finally fell out of her mouth.

Draco continued looking at her steadily, as if willing her to say more, so she did. “Surely, you could find someone better than me, I mean, I know you could easily find someone...”

“No,” Narcissa said firmly. “He can't. You don't seem to understand, Miss. Weasley.”

“No, Mrs. Malfoy, I don't think I do.”

“Actually, the fact that you didn't immediately accept says a great deal about why you are the most suitable candidate,” Narcissa explained.

“I still don't understand,” Ginny said slowly, feeling both Malfoys stare at her intently.

“What my mother means, Ginevra, is that I can't ask just anyone. I need someone who won't read too much into this event. First, asking on such short notice doesn't bode well for appearance but, given the circumstances, I could probably still get by. However, most witches I would ask would take this opportunity to assume that there is some sort of attachment involved. The event will be publicized and I can guarantee that my escort will most certainly generate a great deal of speculation.”

Ginny couldn't help but take a small amount of offense at the explanation. “And I somehow won't generate this same speculation?” Ginny asked.

“Oh, you most likely will, dear Weasley, but it will probably die down quickly. Partly, because of your employment, and partly because you aren't the type to use the opportunity for your personal advancement.”

She looked down on her simple, conservative black dress. It was work attire. She looked prim and neat and completely appropriate as a staff member but completely wrong for a guest at such an event, much less, the hostess.

“I'm afraid, even if I did agree to this, which I do not, by the way,” she babbled, “I don't have anything appropriate to wear, and I'm quite sure I couldn't acquire a proper outfit on such short notice.” There. That should get her out of this, she thought to herself.

“That's not a issue,” Narcissa explained. I can have Madam Malkin over here immediately.

Immediately. She felt herself feeling just slightly lightheaded and briefly wondered if fainting was a valid possibility.

Ginny was debating on how to explain that she couldn't afford a new dress when Draco interrupted. “We'd put that on the account as part of the banquet expense, of course,” he stated. She stared at him, trying to figure out if it was an insult, but there was no malice, not even a teasing glint in his eyes. He seemed to be genuinely trying to persuade her to agree.

She looked between the two of them, both obviously expecting her to agree, and she couldn't, she simply could not. “Look, Mrs. Malfoy, Draco, there is no way I can agree to this. I'm very honored that you thought of me, but I simply don't think it's appropriate. First of all, I'm your employee for this event, and the idea of being a paid escort, no matter how proper the situation, is simply not something I want to be considered. Second, you may recall that my last name is Weasley, and I'm quite certain you'll regret your choice in the very near future from a social standpoint.”

Ginny had chosen her words carefully when it came to that ‘second’ reason. In actuality, she'd said that they would regret working with her, but the truth of the matter was that she didn't know how she'd ever deal with being seen associating with them. She felt a small amount of guilt, since that was exactly the situation that this party was supposed to be alleviating.

“Nonsense,” Narcissa snorted. “You are a lovely, young woman. I've seen you handle yourself quite well these last several weeks and you have an excellent command presence, as I've seen as you deal with your underlings. You would be an excellent match, and I insist.”

Ginny felt a small amount of panic. Narcissa had just 'insisted', making her options very, very limited, considering the determination of the woman. She was only able to come up with one last, desperate, excuse. “Mrs. Malfoy, I still have to coordinate the events for the evening...” Ginny started to say, looking at Draco, as he sat silently, with no expression on his face.

She never got to finish her sentence as Narcissa had already begun to voice a response. “I'll contact Ms. Tinkerton myself and arrange for your duties to be reallocated.”

Ginny sighed in defeat.

Fifteen minutes later, Ms. Tinkerton herself and Camille, who would be her backup, were in the parlor. Ginny had no choice, though she still considered this entire situation to be rather humiliating. Ms. Tinkerton would hear none of her excuses, reminding Ginny, once again, that this was a very big client, and she wanted to ensure the success of the event. So, once again, for the sake of her future career, she was being forced into doing a job that she truly did not want to do.

As Ginny handed her notes, action items and the final schedule to Camille, she gave a resigned sigh.

“Goodness Ginny, why do you look so glum?” Camille finally asked.

“I just think this is wrong, that's all.”

Camille looked at her as if she'd just grown an extra appendage. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, you must be joking.”

Ginny looked at her, feeling confused by the other girl's remark.

“Anyone of us would simply die to be you right now!” Camille continued.

“Camille, do you have any idea what my family is going to say to me after they find out?”

“Oh, who cares, Ginny? Stop being such a stick in the mud! They might be angry, they might not. It's not like you're marrying the man. Though who wouldn't?”

Ginny gaped in shock at her friend's words. “But...”

But Camille continued unabated. “You've got an opportunity of a lifetime! Don't spend your time worrying about what might come of it tomorrow. For tonight, just enjoy it and, for goodness sake, make sure you come in early on Monday to tell us all about every last detail, yeah?”

Camille's rant brought Ginny a great deal of peace. Her friend was right. She was getting a wonderful chance to view an extravagant event from the other point of view, as a guest, instead of her usual position as a staff member in the shadows. She owed it to herself and also to her co-workers to enjoy every minute of the evening and bring back every last detail to share. A Cinderella evening. Ginny let the thought soak in and heaved a heavy sigh of resignation.

There was no getting out of it, so, Ginny, being a practical sort of person, came to the conclusion that Camille was right. She decided to stop complaining. She was going to be gracious and enjoy every minute. It was least she could do for herself after having to deal with Malfoy for the last two months.

There was something to be said about how efficient Madam Malkin could be when pressed for time and, of course, given the appropriate compensation. The woman arrived within minutes of being summoned, accompanied by a small team of three of her best tailors, each carrying armfuls of elegant garments.

Ginny was led to a small guest room on the second floor of the mansion; small being a relative term as it was only small in comparison to what she'd seen of the rest of the manor.

They transfigured a dais and provided a screen for her slip behind as she changed into the various samples of Madam Malkin’s latest, most trendy creations. After all, even as a hired escort, the hostess of a Malfoy ball could not possibly be seen in anything that might be considered less than the best.

Narcissa returned to the room as soon as they were ready to begin and sat primly near Madam Malkin to supervise the process. As the two women began discussing each possible gown, Ginny realized that she would be having little input regarding her attire. She had the flitting thought that she should be annoyed, but then realized that Narcissa was paying for it, after all, and the woman had chosen every last detail of the evening, why not the dress as well?

She found it wasn't hard to get carried away in the moment and, after the third gown, and Madam Malkin’s eager cooing over how perfect Ginny looked in each of her creations, she started to have fun. Truthfully, she would have been delighted with any of them. The gowns, the attention, and the ball itself were a little girl's dream, after all. As Ginny ran her hands over the impossibly smooth fabric of the latest gown, she tried to think of how she was going to describe all this to her friends.

In a way, she felt like a dress-up doll. As she listened to both women discuss her features, which styles and colors suited her, Ginny found their conversation rather interesting. She even caught several smiles and nods from Narcissa each time she stepped into view in a particularly stunning dress.

As she spun around showing the full skirt of a lovely cap-sleeved gown in royal blue, she suddenly had the mental image of Narcissa playing with cutout dolls, dressing each one like she was dressing Ginny now. Ginny gave a polite cough to hide her sudden urge to giggle at the image. Narcissa actually appeared to be enjoying the activity and, Ginny had to admit, that if this made Narcissa happy, then it boded well for both Ginny and her job.

"Of course, I'd love to see her in gold," Madam Malkin commented. "The color would complement her skin tone and hair beautifully. But, as it is a silver anniversary ball, I would think that it would clash."

"I would think green," Narcissa stated. "She has a lovely copper hair and it would complement her eyes perfectly.”

"Of course," the designer agreed.

Ginny simply kept silent and did as she was told, marveling in the odd conversation between the two women. She also spent her time enjoying the beautiful decor, the feel of the elegant silks, and the view of herself in the mirror at each lovely gown that she slipped into.

In the end, they decided on a strapless dress of light green, with a long, full skirt. The tight bodice had an intricate design in silver that extended in a spiral along the flowing skirt. The fabric was what truly made it stunning, yet it shimmered in iridescent rainbow hues. She would wear long gloves in the matching green, and Narcissa would send over appropriate jewelry to match the outfit.

As Narcissa left the room, Ginny did notice that the woman's harsh, cold expression had lessened. For the first time, she seemed calm and relaxed, and Ginny was grateful. Apparently, Ginny's acquiescence to the fitting had been appropriate and she somehow felt that she'd passed her first hurdle for the evening. The last thing she needed was to have Narcissa Malfoy complaining to her employers that she had single-handedly ruined their party. After Narcissa left the room to dress in her own formal attire, Madam Malkin commented as she made adjustments to the gown

"I do believe she likes you, my dear. It's unusual to see her so happy."

Happy? While the woman's expression had been far from being the severe mask Ginny had become accustomed to, she would hardly call her happy.

Seeing her expression, Madam Malkin smiled. "Yes, my dear, I know her well enough to tell. You are lovely to dress, and for a woman who's always wanted a daughter for such things, this was a rare opportunity for her to experience. I'm sure she's enjoyed this as much as she'll allow herself."

What an odd thing to say, Ginny thought, as she patiently stood through the final fitting of her dress. She thought about how her own mother would feel if she didn't have a daughter. How many times her mother and she had laughed and enjoyed shopping for clothes, even if they were second-hand. Narcissa had none, and so Ginny supposed dressing her son's date for her party would be considered a form of fun. Ginny did recall seeing the woman smile several times, which was highly unusual.

Ginny slipped out of the dress and was given a dressing gown to wear as one of Madam Malkin’s assistants began working on her hair and makeup - not too heavy, per Mrs. Malfoy's instruction. Narcissa had voiced that she liked her natural complexion and then Ginny was subsequently fitted into a tight corset and then into the formal ball gown. They finished with only a few minutes to spare.

She turned to see herself in the mirror and gasped. If she'd felt like a princess before, she felt she truly looked like one now. Her hair was coiffed up, with a few strands elegantly hanging out, her fringe carefully lifted out of her eyes, sweeping off to the side. The gown accentuated her curves, the corset making her waist seem impossibly small as the silken skirts billowed out and flowed around her legs.

She hoped she could get someone to take a picture so she could remember this.

As the tailoring staff left the room, Camille entered to make sure that all was going smoothly. The girl gasped at the sight of her friend.

"Oh my gosh, Ginny! Is that really you?"

She smiled back. "Can you believe it?"

"Oh, you should thank your brothers for making such horrible concoctions at their shop. Who would have guessed that a stupid practical joke that they sold could have possibly turned out so well!"

"Do me a favor, and see if you can get a picture of me? I'll probably never get a chance to wear anything this expensive for the rest of my life and I want to remember it."

"I definitely will. I'm so jealous that Narcissa picked you instead of me."

"Well, I wasn't thrilled with the idea of being a paid hostess at first, but so far, it's been fun. Now I have to hope that I can carry myself at the party."

"That's why I'm here, honey!" Camille smiled. "It's almost time. Not that I need to tell you all this, but I'd be remiss in my duties as coordinator if I didn't. I'll let them know you're ready and your handsome date will come by and escort you downstairs. You'll be greeting the guests in the main entrance hall till around eight o'clock, and dinner has been moved back about fifteen minutes due to a small issue with the first course going up in smoke.”

“Smoke?”

“You don't want to know but, fortunately, nobody was injured.”

Yet another reason to enjoy being stuck here in a gorgeous dress, Ginny thought. All the more reason to enjoy the moment.

"I have you seated in Pansy's spot, which will be on Draco's right. Dinner should conclude around nine fifteen, with the first dance shortly after. The presentation and champagne toast are scheduled for ten."

"Have you reviewed the speech yet?" Ginny asked, still having some difficulty in leaving her role of the last seven weeks of coordinating the event.

"Not yet, actually. Draco is presenting it. He insists that I don't need to see it."

"He would," Ginny agreed. "I wouldn't worry about it. He's polished enough that I'm sure it will be fine."

"Now, stop worrying about the details. That's not your job for the rest of the night,” Camille chastised as she grinned at her friend. “Well, I'll be off then. I'll try not to interrupt your fun with any emergencies."

"It sounds like you have it all in check, Camille. Thank you."

"I'm sure you'll be worrying more about not making any serious etiquette violations," Camille joked.

What an understatement. That was definitely her biggest fear. She'd staffed enough society balls to be familiar with the protocols, but to actually act as hostess was a far cry from being a part of the staff as an observer. Narcissa would expect nothing short of perfection. Once again, she felt her job hanging in the balance.

She looked at Camille, panic starting to show on her face. “You have no idea. Oh, Camille, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Don't,” Camille interrupted her friend. “Relax. You'll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say,” she said, feeling every bit of nervousness descend upon her.

Camille left, and she had little to do for the next few minutes, so she stood in front of the mirror and indulged in a moment of vanity. She couldn't believe the transformation she saw in her reflection. Who would have thought that she could look so beautiful? In all the balls she'd worked at over the last two years, she'd become accustomed to the regal beauty of the aristocrats at these functions. She'd never imagined herself in such a role, and she certainly never pictured that she could compete with how lovely they all looked in their formal attire, yet here she was.

She was lost in admiring the silken material of her gown, when she felt a breath in her ear. "You really do tidy up nicely, Ginevra," she heard Draco's voice say softly.

She jumped. Oh how she hated when he did that! She looked up at the reflection in the mirror to see him standing behind her, a smile on his face. Obviously, he'd found it quite amusing to startle her and she felt an urge to be angry with him, or at least strongly annoyed, but the vision of the pair of them in the mirror took her breath away.

Of course, he was always good looking in an arrogant sort of way, but tonight, he was positively gorgeous. He stood close to her, in formal grey dress robes, looking every bit as elegant as she. He was looking down at her face, smiling, as his hand reached around her waist.

She found herself entranced with the image of the two of them in the mirror and seriously considered the idea that she must be dreaming, when he broke the moment as he looked up and met her gaze in the reflection.

"So, is this as terrible as you seemed to think it would be?"

She couldn't speak, she only shook her head.

"Don't worry, the worst is yet to come. We still have a roomful of vultures to attend to, and I heard they already have a full page reserved in the society section of the prophet to cover this little party," he said in a teasing tone. He knew full well that she'd been the one to arrange the coverage.

She wanted to smack the smile from his face, except he looked far too good. The rest of her wanted to collapse against him. She fought the thought. She knew that she was just getting carried away in the moment. No wonder every available, and not so available witch in the country was trying to get his attention. He could be quite charming when he chose to be.

He stepped away, releasing her waist, and gently taking her gloved hand.

"Shall we go greet our guests, lovely lady?" he said and lifted the back of her hand to his lips.

Again, she couldn't speak, finding herself so lost in watching the vision of the handsome prince in front of her. All she could do was nod.

Arriving in the hall, they stood in the assigned location. Some of her nervousness diminished as she realized how much of her duty had been carefully choreographed, and as the choreographer, she knew what to expect.

“Now, all you have to do is smile and look beautiful on my arm. I'll do most of the talking, though I expect some of the old codgers to flirt with you mercilessly,” he whispered into her ear, looking totally comfortable.

She took a deep breath, as deep as the tight corset would allow, and tried to relax.

Draco seemed to enjoy taking every opportunity to whisper into her ear, and she found herself shivering involuntarily each time he did. Obviously, it amused him greatly to see her reaction. She told herself that she didn't get irritated at him because she needed to maintain her pleasant facade.

Dinner was fabulous and, once again, Ginny had to admire Narcissa's choices for every aspect of the meal. Of course, it may have been simply due to the fact that she hadn't eaten all day, but it didn't spoil her savoring every bite. It was the only part of the evening where she actually had a chance to talk with Draco directly, and it almost felt normal to just chat with him. Mostly, he talked about different guests and their relationship with the family over the years. Each time one of the staff came by her section of the table to place the next course, she was able to catch their smiles at her and she found herself easily smiling back.

The disadvantage of enjoying such a meal was that her dress had suddenly become dreadfully tight. She was grateful when the meal finally ended and the tables were Vanished so she could move around a bit.

As they moved to watch Narcissa and Lucius take the dance floor for the first dance of the evening, Ginny got a chance to truly observe Narcissa for the second time that day. The woman was literally beaming. The gown she wore was of a soft whispery material with a silver sheen. Emerald green highlighted her sash and the elegant diamond jewelry sparked against her perfect pale skin. She floated over the dance floor as if she were a young girl at her first ball. The woman's stern expression had been replaced by the glow of a woman who was in her element, and Ginny was captivated by the transformation.

Narcissa was incredibly beautiful. It was obvious that she loved being the center of attention and the glow on the woman's face showed a very different person than Ginny had previously encountered. She couldn't help but think that it was a shame that there had been no balls in this house for a very, very long time, when the lady of the manor obviously enjoyed them so very much.

While the couple danced, Ginny was left to contemplate this woman whom she had disliked for so long, yet had grown to respect over the last few weeks. As the pieces fell into place, Ginny could no longer feel the strong sense of dislike that she'd once held toward Narcissa.

The people she saw dancing were no longer the same ones that had enjoyed the prestige and respect that they once held. They had been damaged by the war and Voldemort just as surely as some of those sent to Azkaban after the final battle.

What she saw was them living a dream, a memory.

Tonight, they forgot the negative things, as they celebrated a milestone, and pretended they were once again the carefree socialites they were on their wedding day. She couldn't dislike them in that moment. They were human beings not so very different from herself and Ginny felt tears spring to her eyes.

Once again, she felt herself pulled from her thoughts by a soft voice in her ear. "They are beautiful together, aren't they?"

"Your mother should smile like that more often. She practically lights up the room," she responded.

"Yes, well, maybe, with time...." he said sadly. She nodded in agreement.

"I believe it's time for us to join them and open the dance floor," he said, taking her hand.

She looked up at him and was once again surprised. The depth of emotion in his gaze left her speechless.

He led her over near his parents, giving his father a polite nod, and turning to Narcissa. "You are absolutely beautiful this evening, Mother."

Ginny smiled at the woman as she beamed at her son, thanked him and turned back adoringly to her husband.

"They do look amazing together," she remarked.

"You should have seen them when they were younger," he replied.

Then all thoughts of his parents left her head as Draco took her into his arms and they began to dance. Her mind once again drifted to the faerie tale fantasy she'd been indulging in earlier that evening, and she found she had little desire to stop herself because she was enjoying the moment too much.

He was an excellent dancer, obviously trained since he was a child for such events. She felt herself being swept around the floor expertly and let herself enjoy the feeling of his strong embrace. Fortunately, she thought, it was only Malfoy, or else she'd likely find herself developing some sort of crush on her partner. But, he was easy to look at and after her recent disastrous romances, she felt she deserved this little bit of fantasy.

As the dance ended, she found herself momentarily disappointed. She had to go back to work, conversing with various guests while her escort stayed near his parents and played the gracious host. “Don't worry,” he said, once again speaking softly into her ear. “I'll see if we can steal away for another dance before the evening's over.” She turned to gape disbelievingly at him. Had she been so obvious?

And so, she stood by him, graciously flirted with older aristocrats who simply enjoyed chatting with a pretty girl. They shared a smile when one of the 'old codgers' was eventually was dragged away by his annoyed-looking wife. Draco seemed to be spending most of his time with politics, graciously chatting up with Ministry associates and representatives. Overall, it was interesting, but mentally exhausting.

Only one minor mishap occurred later in the evening.

Ginny had been asked to dance by none other than her father's friend, Kingsley Shacklebolt, the current Minister of Magic. She looked over at Draco for his approval and he gave her a smile and encouraging nod. Minister Shacklebolt was no where near as polished at dancing as Draco, but they had fun, spending the dance chatting amiably about her family.

Grateful for the reprieve from socializing, she took her time returning to Draco's side. When she finally caught sight of him, she found him attempting to graciously avoid some unwanted attention from a tall brunette who had obviously consumed too much champagne.

Duty told her to hurry back to his side and provide the opportunity for him to escape. Her sense of humor prevented her from moving too quickly. After all, it was rather pleasant to see that he was the one feeling uncomfortable for a change.

She had to suppress a giggle at the polite, yet mortified look on Draco's face as the brunette swooned towards him, pressing her chest close, and he narrowly avoided the spill of champagne as the liquid sloshed in her unsteady grip.

At that moment, she took pity on him and hurried back to his side in good humor. She saw his face brighten as she approached, showing an amused annoyance at her mirth. “You mock my pain, witch.” He whispered in her ear.

She giggled and gave a small attempt to look contrite, but gave up when he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, effectively ignoring the brunette. “I think it's time for us to get that second dance in,” he stated.

She nodded, allowing him to pull her into a possessive embrace as they took to the floor. Ginny heard the girl quite vocally groan in disappointment as she moved away, and Ginny shook her head in disbelief. Though she had to admit that she was flattered as he spoke into her ear, "Don't ever leave me alone like that again. I was ready to hex the woman."

She laughed. No wonder Narcissa had insisted on an escort. “Oh, the trials of poor Draco Malfoy.”

“I would use a term other than 'poor', but it really can be rather tedious sometimes.”

“To have women literally falling at your feet? Most men would have difficulty calling your situation a hardship.”

“It was fun for a while, I won't deny it. But it didn't take long to become annoying. It makes me feel like a cheap trophy.”

They didn't get much more of a chance to talk after that as the evening wore on, gradually tapering off as guests began to disappear. It was well into the early morning hours before the last of the guests finally bid their farewells. Lucius and Narcissa, obviously tired, spoke very little but both smiled gently at Draco as they moved to retire to their room.

Draco wished them a warm good night, and Ginny watched the genuine smile that came to his face as he watched his parents ascend the stairs. She contemplated his expression, and then the thought hit her: He loved them. More than that, they loved him back. Somehow, she'd never considered that about this family.

Ginny felt a bit awkward at seeing them in such an unguarded family moment. This was not the Malfoy family that she had grown up despising. This was simply a family who cared about each other. In that moment, she couldn't even maintain her hatred of Lucius. Over the weeks, she'd come to respect Narcissa, despite the fact that the older woman had initially been cold and demanding. Ginny had seen that often it was a facade, meant to hide her pain and disappointment over her life's mistakes. And Lucius, while she would never totally trust or like the man, she had to admit that he no longer held the haughtiness that he once did. He'd become a quiet man, somewhat reclusive. He'd stepped aside to allow his son to rebuild the family name for their future generation.

And then there was Draco, whom she'd spent enough time with to realize that he had truly lost the malicious edge he'd had in school. Although they'd taunted each other endlessly over the last two months, she found that their interaction could almost be described as amicable.

"It was a nice thing you did for them, throwing this party," she said to him, after his parents had disappeared up the stairs.

"It was the least I could do. It kept Mother busy for a few weeks, which brightened her spirits greatly. Of course, if Mother had her way, she'd have preferred to be planning my wedding, and this was the best I could do to put that off for a bit.”

She wasn't sure if his statement was entirely a joke. "So, it was purely selfish," she teased.

He smiled back down at her. "Absolutely."

"Well, I'd best check on the staff to make sure the cleanup is going smoothly..." she started to say as she pulled away from him. For some reason, being alone with him at that moment felt a bit uncomfortable and she tried to fall back on her role of being part of the staff instead of his date.

"Dressed like that? Please, no."

"Oh, well, I can change quickly. I understand if you don't want me to ruin this. I will return it in good condition, of course."

"Keep the dress, Weasley. I'd have no use for it," he said, sounding cooler to her than he had all evening. She was wondering if she'd somehow insulted him.

"But I couldn't..."

"You can, and you will. It would be a shame if nobody ever saw you in that again."

She was stunned silent, looking into his intense gaze. Obviously there was no room for argument here. Nevertheless, she still felt the need to get away. "Well, I really should check on..."

"They have it in hand, I'm sure. Besides, you are still my escort for this evening, and I haven't finished yet."

She swallowed. Hard.

"Come on, we've hardly had a chance to enjoy ourselves." He smiled, and took her hand.

"Where.... where are we going?"

"To the gardens, of course. I never got a chance to walk outside and I could use the fresh air."

She followed obediently as they walked out toward the rear of the ballroom and wandered casually out onto the patio. He led her down the stone steps in to a garden lined with perfectly manicured low hedge rows, rose bushes and marble statues. The silver globe decorations from the party still floated around the area, giving it an ethereal blue glow. The smaller trees and shrubs twinkled with faerie lights.

She scowled at the accursed things, but found she couldn't focus on them for long, as she had to tread carefully along the stone path in the darkness. He led her along, pausing to look around the garden then up at the stars, and he finally seemed to relax.

"It's good to be out here," he told her, taking a deep breath of the warm spring air. "I always need to spend time alone out here after all that." She assumed that he was referring to the formal evening. There certainly was plenty of stress involved in keeping up a perfect appearance for eight long hours.

"But you're not alone right now," she pointed out.

He looked at her, appeared to think for a moment, then said, "I suppose you're right. But it's close enough." He continued walking. They wandered along the path for a while, looking back to admire the outside lighting around the house. The silver globes still sparkling around the grounds. They didn't speak, both seeming comfortable with the silence after the long evening.

She found herself lost in thought as she walked along. Ginny had to agree that the walk was certainly calming, though she did think it odd that he had brought her along. It truly had been a wonderful evening and she was reluctant to see it end. She marveled at how spending these past two months among this family had altered her perspective so radically. As she reflected on that, she looked over at her companion, as the faerie light once again caught his pale features, making him look even more beautiful than usual.

Distracted, she failed to watch her step and suddenly found her heel caught in one of the crevices of the walkway. She stumbled, a small gasp escaping from her as she realized she was going to ruin her magnificent dress when she hit the ground. She threw her arms out to brace for the impact, but it never came. Quick as a Seeker after a Snitch, he had his arms around her waist, and she was stopped mid-fall.

"Thank you," she said, and looked up into his eyes for the thousandth time that evening. As she caught his gaze, she realized that each time it was getting harder and harder to look away.

Worse, she was completely and utterly aware, with every fiber of her body, just how close they were at that moment. She'd obviously spent too much time indulging in her little faerie tale that evening, because when he pulled her close to kiss her, she didn't even think about resisting.

Her entire world seemed to revolve around the feeling of that kiss. As his lips gently touched hers, she felt a surge of energy flow through her. She became hyper-aware of his arms around her, and her body pressed up against his. His lips were surprisingly soft and warm and she found herself thoroughly enjoying the experience. He went no further, and after a few minutes, pulled away.

If she was going to imagine a kiss to match her princess fantasy, that was it. He'd kissed her gently and firmly, with a restrained passion that left her wanting for more. He'd teased her with that kiss, and she knew it.

She opened her eyes, feeling slightly giddy, to see his satisfied smirk. A wave of annoyance came over her, and she opened her mouth to say something nasty but he stopped her by speaking first.

"Thank you, by the way, for helping to make this a perfect night..." There was a pause. "For my parents."

Egads, this man was going to be the death of her.

"So, does that mean that you didn't find it perfect?" she decided to inquire. After all, he was baiting her for just that sort of question. At this point, she figured she had nothing to lose.

"My night isn't over yet."

"So you said earlier."

He looked at her, still holding her, and she realized that she had no desire to pull away. She briefly considered that she was just too tired from the long evening and must not have been thinking clearly.

"Perfect would be if I woke up tomorrow morning with you in my bed."

Well, if there was a comment to snap her back to reality, that was probably it. After she quelled the butterflies that had suddenly gone rampant in her stomach, she straightened up, and with some regret pulled out of his loose embrace.

"Then, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you, Mr. Malfoy," she said. “As it was, I believe I had some objection to acting as an escort and hostess this evening to begin with. I think you are pushing this matter to being beyond inappropriate."

He didn't seem the least bit deterred by her words, in fact, he smirked. "Well, I'd be remiss if I didn't at least try, Miss. Weasley. Besides, you truly are stunning when you're angry."

She blinked. He had just complimented her again? Granted, it was a strange compliment but, nevertheless, she needed to stay grounded. She decided the formal route was probably her safest option. "I guess I should say thank you, Mr. Malfoy. Considering that this was only a business arrangement, I did enjoy the ball and your company this evening, but I do think it's time for me to leave."

She really did need to leave. The sun would likely be coming up soon, and her parents would definitely take notice of her unusually late arrival.

He didn't miss a beat and returned to the formal tone, still sounding like he was humoring her. "Alright Miss. Weasley, may I escort you then to the front gate so you can Apparate home, or would you prefer that I escort you to your front door?"

"I think I can Apparate home by myself, but thank you for the offer."

"Very well then." He offered his arm to her, she took it, and then the two walked back through the ballroom out to the front hall. She couldn't help but think of how bizarre it must have looked, acting so formally with no one around to see. At the front gate, he took her hand, brought it to his lips as he bowed formally.

"Thank you again, Miss. Weasley, for a lovely evening."

"You're welcome, Mr. Malfoy."

And as she took her wand out to Apparate home, he said, "Perhaps we can try for that perfect evening some other time."

The last thing she saw as she disappeared was him giving her a smile and a slightly devilish wink.

- ~ -

Draco turned to retire for the evening feeling tired but in good spirits. The evening had gone well. Actually, it had gone remarkably well. All his hard work over the last two months had been worth it.

He'd negotiated, cajoled, and convinced one by one every key Ministry individual to attend and, as he greeted each as they arrived at the manor, he'd felt a sense of accomplishment. It was a huge step forward for his family's future, and he knew that it meant the world to his parents that their future grandchildren might not have to endure the burden of a tarnished family name.

He didn't fail to consider the fact that the lovely woman standing at his side all evening had been a major contributor to that success. Not only had she successfully managed the near impossible schedule for the event, but she'd been perfect in her role as his date. He'd even been able to find time to relax and enjoy himself.

He counted himself fortunate that Pansy had been unable to attend.

When the evening had drawn to a close, he found himself regretting that he would no longer have a reason to continue his regular meetings with Ginevra. She was interesting, and he found their banter fun. Her sharp wit and fiery temper were a refreshing change from the women he normally encountered. The incident with the drunk guest hanging off his arm had only solidified that impression. When he finally found himself alone with her, he took the opportunity to once again appreciate Ginevra's natural beauty. That was the thought that led him to ask her to walk with him.

As they left the confines of the house, he found that he appreciated her companionable silence. Most women would have taken the opportunity to fill the silence with useless chatter. They'd walked along, and he'd found himself glancing at her frequently, as he tried to formulate a reason that might lead to seeing her again.

Fate once again handed him a gift when she'd stumbled into his arms. He hadn't planned on kissing her, at least not right away, but he wasn't going to deny that he'd found her incredibly attractive, and he was as opportunistic as the next bloke.

As he'd watched her disappear, he couldn't help but smile. He had a feeling that he'd be seeing much more of Miss. Weasley, and he found that he looked forward to it.

Ginny Apparated to her back yard still reeling from his parting innuendo.

She tried to be furious but the teasing wink and smirk had set butterflies, or should she say, dragonflies fluttering through her abdomen. Her evening had been nothing short of pure magic and she would have thought it had been a dream if not for the incredible evening gown she still wore. Her feet practically floated across the grass as she approached the front porch of The Burrow.

Despite his remark, and despite the fact that she had technically been at work the entire evening, she felt overwhelmingly happy. As she thought back over the last twelve hours or so, she realized that she'd just had the kind of night that any woman would envy and, even if her handsome prince was really just a troll in disguise, she really didn't care right now. The evening had been perfect, right down to the kiss in a faerie-filled garden.

Faeries, she mused. It was amazing how her intense dislike of the creatures had so quickly abated. She'd likely go back to hating them in a day or two, when reality came crashing back down. She wanted to give herself the one day of fun.

She'd think about the repercussions of that kiss later. She knew it meant nothing to either of them but it was still a lovely part of the evening and, truthfully, she was too tired to care.

She was more than tired, actually she was exhausted, but she doubted she'd be able to sleep anytime soon. Part of her didn't want to take the dress off just yet and she still had favorite parts of the evening to go over in her mind. She likely would have to write it all down so she wouldn't forget.

It was late spring and even at this early hour (or late, depending on one's perspective) the sun's first light was turning the horizon to a bright pink. She quietly opened the door, entered the living room and attempted to sneak up to her room.

Unfortunately, her mother had always been a notoriously early riser and today was no exception. She'd barely set foot on the first stair when she heard her mother exit the kitchen.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, are you just coming home now?"

Oops.

"Yes, Mum,” she shouted back, trying to sound as casual as possible, hoping to escape before her mother noticed her unusual attire. “It was a very late event. I had to stay until the very end."

As she continued up the stairs, it suddenly occurred to her that she'd abandoned her black dress at the manor and was just trying to figure out how to tactfully retrieve it, when her mother interrupted her thoughts once again.

"I am sorely tempted to have a word with that Tinkerton woman. She just about works you girls to death... Oh my goodness, Ginny, what in the world are you wearing?"

Too late. She was going to have to explain now but decided that it was probably no matter. Somebody was likely going to notice the pictures in the paper today anyway. There was no doubt that she might be in at least one of them but she anticipated it would be something small, since the guests of honor were Lucius and Narcissa, and there were so many other high-profile guests. She'd actually started to entertain the thought that she wouldn't have to explain to her parents that she'd acted as Draco's date for the evening.

She turned to her mother sheepishly. Her elegant hairstyle had become slightly mussed, but still was mostly in place, and who could miss the emerald earrings she wore?

Her mother gasped.

"Sweetheart, you look... oh, my goodness. What in the world...?"

Obviously, her mother was at a loss for words. She tried to come up with an explanation quickly but her mother interrupted that thought too.

"Arthur!" The familiar shriek of her mother pierced her ears. Funny how she'd gotten used to the polite conversation among the Malfoys so quickly. Her mother continued, "Arthur! Come down here right now. You have to see this!"

She remained frozen in place on the stairs and found herself turning sheepishly to look up at her sleepy father as he entered the hallway. He was followed closely by Fred and George, the only two siblings who were still living at home. The brothers had likely heard the noise and could not resist finding out about whatever was causing all the commotion.

"Gin-bug, is that you?" her father asked, as the sight of her seemed to shock him awake.

Fred and George were peering over each of her father's shoulders, all three sporting rather horrendous bed-hair. The image strongly reminded Ginny of a three-headed troll.

"Whoa! Is that our sister?"

"No, George. It's Ron. He cleans up rather well, don't you think?"

She came to the quick conclusion that she wouldn't be going to bed anytime soon, as the small herd of Weasleys began descending the stairs.

Next thing she knew, her father was in front of her holding her shoulders, staring at her. “My goodness, Ginny, you look beautiful! Not that you don't always, but, my little girl, you look like you've been attacked by a fairy godmother.”

She smiled at her father. She could be eighty and she'd still be his little girl.

“You can thank Tinkerton's for that, I suppose,” she said, trying to downplay the events to being work-related, as opposed to Malfoy-related.

Fred started fingering the skirt of her dress, maybe trying to see if it was some sort of illusion, she figured. She smacked his hand away. “Fred, do you mind not drooling on the dress. I'd rather not have it ruined.”

“Well, you'll have to be returning it soon, I suppose,” her mother said seriously. Her parents were poor, but they weren't fools. They knew full well that this dress likely cost half a year's salary.

“I already asked and they said they don't want it back. It's considered an expense of the party.”

“Excellent!” George piped in. “You'll have a dress for Fred's wedding!”

“Shut up, George,” Fred sniped back at his brother. It was a minor sore spot between the two, since George had started seeing Camille and Fred had recently found himself sitting home.

“That's a brilliant idea, George.” She smiled back. She would definitely ask when the time came for the next wedding. After all, Draco did say it would be a shame if nobody ever got to see her wear it again.

“I'm not sure I understand, Gin-bug,” her father interrupted. “This isn't something that you normally wear to work for an event.”

“It was an unusual set of circumstances,” she said. She knew she had to choose her words carefully. Her mother had already expressed some concern about her working on this project.

“What kind of circumstances, dear?”

“It's kind of a long story...” she began, then looked solidly at the twins. “It's your fault, actually.”

Fred and George looked at each other, then back to her. “You're welcome,” they responded in unison.

She started to laugh. “I suppose you're right. I am in this dress as a direct result of a Skiving Snackbox incident. The victim, Pansy Parkinson, by the way, could not make the party and they needed someone to fill in as the hostess.”

The twins started to chuckle and congratulate each other on another victory for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. She enjoyed their banter, filling them in on the details of the Snackbox incident, including Narcissa's reaction to children having access to such a 'vile' thing. It had seemed that she'd escaped having to provide further details of the evening itself, but, as she'd realized earlier, her parents were poor, not stupid.

“Ginny, dear. What exactly do you mean by hostess?”

“Um... It was nothing really, I just had to be Draco's escort, stand and greet the guests, dance with him. Nothing important.”

From the look on her mother's face, apparently it was.

“My goodness, Ginny, I'm not sure what concerns me more, that you were his date or that you were paid to do so. Neither sounds like it's something I'd approve,” her mother said. “And they gave you that dress and the jewelry?”

"Please, Mum. It's nothing really. And I'm owling Mrs. Malfoy to arrange to return the jewelry as soon as I can."

"Obviously, there's a story," her mother. "That dress, my goodness..."

If she said "my goodness" one more time, Ginny thought she'd go insane.

"Mum, I know. The dress. Yes, it's quite expensive, but really, I already told them I'd return it. I have to go back to get my work clothes anyway."

"You look beautiful, Gin-bug," her father told her and she beamed back.

"Thanks Dad. I really did feel like I was a princess. It was all like a fairytale, getting all fitted for the ball."

"But you have to understand that you can't trust those people," her father advised.

"I know Dad, I know. But really, they were quite kind to me. I really did have a nice time."

"They're using you, Gin," George cautioned. "They probably wanted you there so they'd look more respectable."

"I know that, actually. Draco was quite candid about that when he first hired me for the event two months ago."

"You're kidding!" Fred sounded amazed. "He was actually up front with you about it? That no good, conniving Slytherin!"

"It's not like that." She couldn't believe she was actually defending him. But, quite truthfully, she no longer could say she disliked Draco after he'd managed to put so much effort into giving her the fantasy evening of a lifetime.

She looked around at the four concerned faces. “Please, don't be angry. I had fun! I would rather not get into a row about it.”

Fortunately, it must have been too early in the morning for all of them to spend the energy of getting their famous tempers up and she watched with just a small amount of fear until it appeared that they were willing to calm down. Finally, her mother took a deep breath. “I believe you dear. But, you are not keeping that dress. It's probably worth more than what we make in a year. It's just not proper to keep a gift that expensive," her mother started lecturing.

"They want something from you," her father stated again, as if she hadn't heard him the first time and she could tell he was getting angry and she truly wanted to try to get him to understand.

"Dad, please. I've worked with Narcissa for two months now, and they are not at all like what you remember."

"Really?"

"I'm certain of it."

"What makes you think so?"

"They, just, well, are more quiet and reserved. They seem reclusive. And, well," she wasn't sure if she should say it, but they needed to know. "Lucius apologized to me."

That got her father's attention.

"He told me he was profoundly sorry about the diary, and regretted what happened to me. He also said that he was glad that I was all right. Draco overheard, and later told me that it's likely the first time that Lucius has ever apologized to anyone in his life."

"He should regret it. He should still be in Azkaban for it," her father growled.

“Well, you said you had fun, Gin,” George said, being more calm than her parents. “Why don't you tell us about it?”

How many times in the last few weeks had she thought about how much she loved her brothers? she thought. She smiled in relief.

She spent the next two hours talking about the rest of her evening, about Camille and the other girls encouraging her and giving her sly winks all evening, about dancing with Minister Shacklebolt, and about how all her hard work in planning had been a tremendous accomplishment.

She finally seemed to have appeased her parents, and was just starting to nod off on the couch, still wearing the now-infamous Dress when the Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet arrived. Ginny had been expecting that she might be in one of the photographs of the ball, buried somewhere deep within the paper's society page. She found herself looking forward to it, actually, since she had prepared the press release herself and it was always amusing to see how close the Prophet came to actually being correct.

What she didn't expect was to see was herself and Draco Malfoy on the front page. The photograph was magnificent, if one was capable of looking at it objectively. It showed them dancing and laughing as they shared some joke, their eyes locked. It was likely the second dance that was shown there, Ginny guessed, and they were likely laughing over Draco's issues with women. They made quite a handsome couple. Apparently, the reporters for the Prophet agreed. The headline read,

Future wedding bells for Malfoy heir?

At the silver anniversary ball for Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, a who's who list of socialites attended and were treated to the introduction of son Draco's current beau. The young couple seemed to be completely enamored with each other all evening. Details on page 11


Well, they did say there would be some 'speculation'. What an understatement. She looked up at the shocked faces of her parents, knowing that it mirrored her own surprised expression. She prepared to explain, but as she opened her mouth...

"Well, I'll be!" a twin interrupted.

"Our sis, dancing with the devil himself!"

"She can take him, Fred."

"I have no doubt, George."

Thank goodness for the twins to be there to lighten the mood. After all, they all knew that the Prophet had a bad habit of altering the facts to suit their own ends. Right? Ugh. At this point, she really, really just wanted to get out of the dress and corset, go to sleep and deal with it later.

"Well, can I have a dance with the lovely vixen that has managed to shake the foundations of House Malfoy?" Fred said, as he stood in front of her, giving an exaggerated bow.

"I'll go get a camera," George said, as she took Fred's hand and began a dance around the living room.

- ~ -

The first thing she did, after finally breaking free from her family, was to send Errol, their elderly owl, to Narcissa. Her note graciously thanked the older woman for the evening. She also asked about arranging a time for her to return the borrowed jewelry that she'd worn with her dress, as well as to pick up the simple black dress that she'd left behind.

She finally managed to get a few hours of sleep in before Hermione and Ron arrived for Sunday dinner. Once again, The Dress was taken out and paraded, and once again, she had to recount her adventure in detail. She had a feeling it would be far from the last time she'd have to recount the tale. Ron was far from happy about it, but the twins did a good job of distracting him to minimize any issues.

There were a few owls received that day from each of her other brothers and some concerned friends and Ginny found herself annoyed that she was forced to spend the remainder of the afternoon sending posts to correct the errant ways of the infamous Daily Prophet. She was surprised that, after all the blatantly false stories about Harry that the Prophet had published over the years that her friends and family weren't more skeptical about anything they found there. Then again, maybe they were. If they'd truly been concerned, she was certain the house would have been full of brothers mere minutes after they'd read the story.

- ~ -

Draco woke up after a particularly good night, or should he say, morning's sleep. After all, he didn't get to bed until nearly dawn.

Wandering downstairs, he found his parents still loitering over their brunch. They'd obviously had a late lie-in as well, due to the late ending to the ball. He was pleased to see that both appeared to be rested and relatively happy.

He sat down and began sipping his morning beverage and noticed his father deeply engrossed in reading the Daily Prophet. As he held the paper up, reading the contents, the picture on the front page stood out vividly. Almost forgetting his manners, Draco barely resisted the urge to reach over and snatch the paper from his father's hands as he read the caption.

His mother noted his reaction and gave a delicate chuckle.

"As if you expected anything less, my son?"

His father lowered the paper, his expression calm, but Draco could also sense his amusement at his son's discomfort. Good Lord, his parents were actually having a good time teasing him. His annoyance with them was tempered by the fact that he hadn't seen them so happy in years.

"I certainly wasn't expecting the front page! If so, I would have tried to arrange for something more newsworthy to happen," he groused, turning his attention to his breakfast plate.

Obviously, his parents weren't upset. After his father finished, he got a chance to review the rest of the pictures and the write-up in the society section. There was a lovely photograph of his parents shaking hands with the Minister and various shots of high-profile guests. The publicity of the ball could not have been more favorable for his parents' political standing. They were openly delighted with the outcome, well, as open as was usual for them.

"The Weasley girl was a good choice," Narcissa commented, as he read through the article. "She exceeded my expectations."

Draco tried to appear casual as he agreed but nothing got by his mother.

"It was a successful evening, Draco. I am quite pleased with your efforts to ensure all went smoothly," Lucius added. Apparently, he approved of Ginny's presence also. Draco raised an eyebrow in surprise. He decided, since they'd started the morning in good humor to tease them back. "Who would have thought, that both my parents would have not only agreed, but approved of a Weasley to be here? Times do change, don't they?"

"The times have changed, and we adapt. There is nothing to gain and much to lose by continuing the old grudge. You've learned that well, and have been successful as a result," Lucius explained. "I have
nothing against the girl. She's proven quite useful. That picture on the front page will benefit you, I'm certain."

High praise from Lucius. Draco was surprised, but not greatly.

Their conversation was interrupted by an owl crashing into the window. A very, very old and rather ungainly-looking owl. Draco looked out the window to see the owl lying exhausted on the ground outside. Upon seeing him, the bird eagerly, if unsteadily, pulled himself up to present his note. Draco had seen this bird before, remembering it only because it had been such a joke whenever it had delivered anything to one of the Weasleys at Hogwarts. The owl was ancient and rather senile way back then. He was amazed it was still alive.

"I believe that's the Weasleys' bird," Draco informed them.

"Good heavens, are they still in such dire financial circumstances?" Lucius asked, as Errol tried his best to look stately.

"I don't think so, at least not from what I've heard. I'm under the impression that they seem to enjoy being somewhat... unusual."

His parents simply nodded in response. Narcissa was peering uncertainly at the pathetic bird as Draco removed the parchment. "It's addressed to you, Mother."

She read the note quickly and dismissed the bird. "Well, that was prompt."

Her husband and son looked at her inquiringly. They weren't normally ones to pry, but the bird did create quite an entrance.

"It's a note from the Weasley girl, thanking us for our hospitality and asking to arrange a meeting time so that she can return the jewelry she wore last night," she informed them. “I will arrange for that later,” she said, and the family went back to finishing their breakfast.

- ~ -

Ginny gratefully hauled her tired self into work early the next morning. She knew that her ordeal was not yet over as far as the story in the paper was concerned but, at least with the girls at work, she could simply enjoy going over the events of the evening.

She walked into the office and was greeted with a barrage of questions and comments.

“Oh, Ginny, you looked wonderful!”

“I am so jealous!”

“You should have heard how some of the women there were talking, Ginny. They were absolutely green with envy.”

Their excitement and enthusiasm was contagious and she soon found herself once again getting carried away with the fun she had that evening, instead of dwelling on the concerns of her family. She found herself giving them every detail that she'd promised, ending her story with the Malfoys retiring for the evening.

As she was finally able to break away and go back to her desk, she found her thoughts drifting back to the part of the evening she'd left out and felt her heart ache with an unfamiliar longing. She found herself torn about what had happened in the faerie garden after the party. On one hand, it was the single most romantic moment she'd ever experienced, and she'd loved it. On the other hand, the man involved in said romantic moment was the last person who she'd have wanted to share such a moment with. She gave a big, audible sigh.

“All right, Gin. Let's hear it.”

Ginny looked up, feeling like a cornered rabbit, to see Camille giving her a knowing look. “What?”

“You left something out, I can tell.”

“I... There's nothing more. I told you all everything. It was fun. What more is there to say, except that I had a lot of explaining to do yesterday after my family saw the pictures in the Prophet.”

Camille stared at her in the accusing way only a friend can get away with and Ginny cringed. “Ginny, there's more. I saw the pictures in the Prophet and I've been watching the two of you interact for weeks. What did you leave out?”

“I don't know if I can say.”

“Try me, Ginny.”

“All right, if you really must know,” she said quietly, looking about for any eavesdroppers. “But you have to keep it quiet.”

Camille nodded, looking for all the world like she was about to get a big chocolate sundae and Ginny, truthfully, was bursting to tell somebody. Ginny looked about to make sure nobody could overhear, then whispered back to Camille, “He kissed me.”

“Ohmygosh!” Camille squeaked, her eyes going wide. “You're not just saying that to tease me, are you?”

Ginny shook her head, wondering if she should have said anything and added, “In the faerie garden.”

“Ohmygosh! How was it?”

The look Ginny gave was more than enough information for her friend.

“And you, Miss I-Hate-Romance. That is so unfair.”

“Don't get me started. The most romantic moment of my life and it had to involve a man I can barely stand being around.”

The morning passed quickly and lunch consisted of everyone busily chatting about the ball on Saturday. Ginny's experience only made the evening more fun to talk about, and it was fun hearing the rest talk about the odd things that happen at any event, including the incinerated first course. Almost everyone had their own unique horror story to share and Ginny enjoyed catching up on what she'd missed behind the scenes.

Returning to her desk, Ginny found two owls waiting for her. The first was from Narcissa Malfoy, inviting her to tea on Friday afternoon so that they could exchange their respective items from the ball. The second, however, was of greater interest to the office because it was carrying a peach colored rose and a note. The cluster of office gossips immediately clustered around.

“Ginny, you are just too lucky!”

“Who's it from?”

She wanted to glare at them all to leave her, but that wouldn't go over very well, so she decided to just get it over with as quickly as possible. She truly had no idea who would send a rose to her at the office, and had a creeping fear that it might be from Malfoy.

To her relief, it wasn't.

Ginny,

We did it! I wanted to be the first to say congratulations!
Looking forward to seeing a lot more of you in the near future.

Oliver.


There was only one thing Oliver could mean. She'd made it. She was actually now on a professional Quidditch team. Granted, only as a part of the practice squad, but it was real. She really was good enough. She felt her heart skip a few beats.

“Well?” Camille looked like she was going to pass out from anticipation. Not wanting her friend to make any assumptions, Ginny had to tell them something. Normally, getting a rose wouldn't garner that much attention, but she wondered if the rest of the office suspected Draco might have sent it also. Best to shut down that rumor immediately.

“It's from a friend of mine. Actually, he's a friend of my brothers. Oliver Wood.”

“Ooh!” came a chorus of gasps. Egad. Sometimes, Ginny hated working with an office full of gossipy women.

“He's just a friend! And he's just congratulating me on something that the four of us have been working on together.”

“Right, hun.” One of the women said, smiling, as she walked away.

Well, it was better for them to think that she had some sort of thing with Oliver, if it kept them distracted from any potential rumors about Malfoy.

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly while she completed the paperwork and closed out the account from the weekend. As her co-workers left for the day, Ms. Tinkerton called both her and Camille in to her office to inform them that they could take the rest of the week off as a reward for all the extra hours they'd put in over the last few weeks. Ginny accepted gratefully, especially knowing that Quidditch was going to start taking up even more of her time in the very near future.

As she went back to her desk, she found the last person she wanted waiting near her desk looking over the note and flowers.

“Weasley.”

So, they were back to last names. She felt a moment of disappointment. Even though she'd fought the idea, she really had started to think that maybe, just maybe, the person she'd seen on Saturday evening might have been real.

“Can I help you with something, Mr. Malfoy?”

He leaned against her desk, toying with the peach-colored rose that was now sitting in a vase.

“I was just here to settle my account with your company. I thought I'd stop by,” he said casually, eyeing the flower with disdain. “Getting flowers, Weasley?”

He picked up the note that lay near the vase, and started looking at it before she could snatch it away.

“Give me that back,” she snarled, reaching for the piece of parchment.

“Oh, come now Weasley, it can't be that private if you left it out.” Nevertheless, he placed it back down, open. She wondered if he did that purposely.

“Well, good day, Weasley,” he said shortly, and walked into Ms. Tinkerton's office.

She was fully aware that Camille had returned to her desk and was watching the interaction with great interest.

“Oh, Ginny. He is so interested in you.”

“Don't start, Camille. That would be the day goblins have no interest in gold.”

- ~ -

Grateful for having some time off, Ginny was able to report the next day for her first practice with the Falcons. As she approached the Quidditch pitch, she couldn't help but feel nervous. This was potentially the biggest thing she'd ever done, aside from leaving her brothers' shop to go work at Tinkerton's. If this worked out, it could literally change her life.

She looked up at the stadium in awe, hardly able to comprehend the fact that she was really there and that she was really going to start her first day as a professional Quidditch player. After a few minutes of reveling in the thought, she took a deep breath and walked into the stadium.

Well-aware that she was the lone female player, as well as being in disguise, she felt slightly self-conscious when she entered the pitch and got a look at her teammates. She'd seen them before when she'd flown against many of them in the tryouts, but this was just a bit different. She was grateful to find Oliver there, waiting for her with a welcoming smile. It was so much easier seeing a friendly face and she was grateful for his support in this insane endeavor. She breathed a quick sigh of relief.

Her fears began to diminish when Oliver cheerfully introduced her to the rest of the team and she greeted each one with a little bit of awe. She still couldn't fully comprehend that she had been hired to be one of their ranks, as opposed to merely being an adoring fan and she hardly needed to be introduced to most, since she knew most of their names from the Quidditch magazines that the twins always seemed to leave lying around the house. What surprised her, however, was to find that they were all relatively nice blokes who welcomed her with friendly handshakes and snarky comments.

Fortunately, she was able to avoid most conversation by simply nodding and smiling as much as possible. It was obvious that a few of the players seemed a bit wary of her abilities, due to her small stature.

After a brief session with the coach, where they received their instructions for the day's first practice, Ginny was able to overcome her nervousness as she mounted her broom and concentrated on her flying. Oliver grinned at her the first time that she whizzed past one Beater, distracting him enough to allow her Chaser to score. At the end of the practice match, the regular Seeker, James, had beaten her to the Snitch, but she'd definitely given him a run for it.

Roger, the team captain, was the first to walk up to her after the session to give her his compliments.

"You are amazing for such a little thing," he chided her.

She found herself almost embarrassed by the compliment and looked toward the ground, not sure of what to say. Fortunately, Oliver seemed to be hovering nearby and quickly responded, "She almost took you out there, mate. I had my hopes up for a second or two."

Roger turned to Oliver with a smile. "You would!" He pointed to Oliver while speaking to Ginny. "He's wanted my spot as Captain for the last three years, so he keeps hoping I'll get injured. I keep healthy just to spite him," he said with a friendly grin at Oliver. Ginny grinned back. Her team captain had an easy way about him, as a captain should. "Now, what do we call you again?"

She ducked shyly, realizing that, of course he must know her name, but he was making conversation. Caught up in the moment, she almost responded with her real name, or worse, without her accent. She would have to train herself to avoid slipping up in the future, she thought as she forced the unnatural response. "Francine, Francine Miller," she said, in her horrible American accent. Fortunately, Roger didn't notice the slight strain in her voice as she spoke.

The captain seemed to considered her response, and Ginny felt a moment of panic that perhaps he didn't believe her. But a moment later his reasoning came clear, as he said, "Francine seems like such a delicate name for a little firecracker like you. You need to be one of the blokes, how about we call you Frank for short."

"Nah, she needs to be just a bit girly," another teammate joined in. "Let's call her Frankie!" She heard a chorus of agreement, as her new teammates agreed with the nickname. The nickname was their way of accepting her and her talents onto the team, and she felt simultaneously happy and guilty. Happy because she made it, on her own merits, and was being accepted as a member of a real, professional team. Guilty because the name was a lie and she had just slipped deeper into her ruse.

Later, after she'd showered and changed back to being Ginny again, she went out to dinner with Oliver and talked about the disguise.

"I don't know, Oliver. I feel so dishonest telling everyone that I'm somebody else. Do you think we did the right thing?"

"I don't know, Gin, I don't know. I still think that we needed to do it to get you onto the practice squad, but I'm not so sure that telling them the truth right now is a very good idea. The coach could just take the deception as being a problem and replace you on the team without a second thought. I think for right now, you need to prove yourself. Once they see how good you are, then you can tell them. They won't be so eager to sack you on a little white lie if they know you really are too talented to let go."

"It's just so uncomfortable when I have to pretend I'm not me. I don't know how long I can keep it going."

"Just a few more weeks, after you've established yourself a bit. We'll make the announcement then, and I'll back you up. It was my idea after all."

She wasn't entirely happy with Oliver's suggestion, but it was hard to come up with a good justification to change. She couldn't simply show up for the next practice as Ginny Weasley right now. If she did, she'd likely be escorted from the stadium under arrest and sent to St. Mungo's for a mental evaluation. With that thought, she decided it might be in her best interest to follow Oliver's suggestion and wait to shed her disguise.

- ~ -

Her first week on the team passed quickly. Ginny was exhausted and deliriously happy, even if it was only playing practice matches for a fraction of the pay of a starting player. The drills that the coach demanded were mentally and physically challenging, although she knew she would adjust to the physical demands over time.

On Friday, the team finished practice early and Ginny was grateful for the rest. She wondered how she was going to manage next week when she would also have to find a way to coordinate the practice along with maintaining her regular job.

For that particular Friday afternoon, however, she had other priorities. Once again, she was headed to Malfoy Manor. This time for tea with Narcissa, for the purpose of returning the expensive emerald and diamond earrings and hair clip.

She arrived at the manor promptly at four o'clock, as Narcissa had requested in her note. Ginny fully realized that getting into the older woman's good graces was a rare honor, and she didn't want to risk jeopardizing her new found status with the woman by not being punctual. The warm June sun inspired her to wear a light peach dress and matching robe of a light material. Her hair was tied back into a neat French braid, with a matching bow. She hoped that it would meet with Narcissa's approval.

Walking up to the impressive building, Ginny couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable. She'd visited the manor frequently during the course of planning for the ball, but this was the first time that she was arriving as a guest instead of as a hired caterer.

The house-elf at the door led her to Narcissa's brightly lit parlor on the south side of the mansion. This room was more ornately furnished than Narcissa's study, which they had used when planning for the ball. The parlor, by contrast, was a room clearly intended for entertaining. When she seated herself on one of the elegantly upholstered chairs, Ginny glanced out the window and noticed that the room overlooked the rose garden. As she took in the sight of the perfectly manicured flowers, she couldn't help but think back to the previous Saturday evening when she'd walked along those stone paths with Draco and felt her face warm with a blush.

Narcissa's greeting was calm and cool, as Ginny had come to expect, but then she realized that, like Madam Malkin, she was starting to interpret the Malfoy matriarch's underlying emotion. Today, Ginny gaged that Narcissa was in a pleasant mood.

When the elf arrived with the tea service and biscuits, she and Narcissa conversed about mostly inconsequential things, such as the weather, the various outfits that guests wore at the ball, and such. They talked about the write up in the paper, and how flattering the reviews had been. She could see Mrs. Malfoy's face brighten ever so slightly at the memory of the evening.

"Before I forget, Mrs. Malfoy, I did want to return the jewelry you let me wear Saturday evening," Ginny said as she brought out the package of carefully wrapped emeralds.

Narcissa smiled graciously. "Of course, my dear. I had quite forgotten about them. They did suit you nicely."

"Yes, ma'am. I appreciate you trusting me with them. I also have the dress here as well," she continued, as she started to pull out the shrunken package containing the evening gown.

"No, no, my dear. You keep that. I have no use for it."

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy, but my mother has reminded me that it wouldn't be proper for me to keep such a gift."

"It's not a gift, simply a business expense," Narcissa replied with a careless wave of her hand, her tone leaving no room for argument, and Ginny hesitantly put the package back into her purse. At least she could inform her parents that she'd tried.

"Now," Narcissa continued after they'd settled back into their respective chairs, "You are probably wondering why I've invited you to tea today."

"Yes, ma'am. The thought did cross my mind."

"I wanted to personally thank you for your efforts on the planning and coordination of the ball. There are not many who are conscientious enough to maintain my standards." Narcissa leveled her gaze at Ginny.

Not quite sure how to respond, she just agreed. "Yes, ma'am. I do my best, that's what you hired me for."

"Of course. I understand Draco requested you specifically for the effort?"

"Yes, he did, although I had my reservations. I'd only recently been promoted to a lead position, and had never handled anything on such a large scale."

"My son has an eye for talent. He's becoming quite successful in business, as you may know,” Narcissa said, her voice showing pride in her son.

"Yes, ma'am. It seems a week can't go by without there being something about him in the papers," Ginny agreed somewhat timidly, unsure of where Narcissa was going with the conversation, and not wanting to unintentionally insult her hostess.

"Such notoriety is both a blessing and a curse," Narcissa commented. "I do hope that you are not under too much scrutiny after last weekend."

"It's not too bad. I did receive a number of owls from some friends who were surprised by the photograph, but they seemed to accept that I was there in a formal role only."

"Of course," Narcissa said, and Ginny detected a slight amount of disapproval in the remark.

"Now, onto more fun matters." Narcissa smiled. "Did you enjoy yourself at the ball?"

Ginny felt herself brighten at the memory. Of course, Narcissa would love to talk more about the evening. She tried to not seem too enthusiastic with her response. "Yes, Mrs. Malfoy, I did. I was honored to be a part of it. I hope that I represented you and Mr. Malfoy in the manner you expected." Ginny smiled, and saw Narcissa's polite nod.

"And I do hope my son was a satisfactory escort?"

Ginny blushed and looked down, but not before she saw the look of satisfaction on the older woman's face.

"Don't worry, Ginevra, I would be surprised if you weren't affected by him. I may be biased as his mother, but I do feel he is quite charming when he chooses to be."

"Yes, ma'am," she replied, deliberately avoiding the older woman's gaze as she felt herself blushing furiously. Images of the lingering kiss in the garden flooded her mind, and there seemed to be nothing she could do to stop it.

Narcissa took pity on her discomfort and smoothly moved onto another topic. "As I said earlier, your work prior to the event was exceptional. Tell me, how do you like working for Ms. Tinkerton?"

"I quite like it," Ginny responded, not sure where Narcissa was leading, but the topic seemed safe enough. "She's quite a good businesswoman and manages her employees well. I find that I've learned a great deal about running a business, keeping accounts and such. I'm hoping, after I build my reputation and gain proper knowledge, that I might be able to strike out on my own someday, or perhaps persuade Ms. Tinkerton to make me a partner."

"Quite ambitious of you. I like that."

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy."

Before they could continue, she heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, drawing the attention of both women to the door of the room. Ginny found her blush returning again when she realized that it was Draco.

"I'm sorry, Mother, I do hope I'm not interrupting. I didn't realize you had a guest."

Narcissa smiled graciously at her son. It seemed that few things melted the woman's facade as much as the presence of her family. It was a shame, Ginny thought, because she really was quite beautiful when she allowed her features to soften.

"Draco, my darling, what a surprise that you are home early today."

"Actually, Mother, as I recall, you requested that I not work late this evening,” he replied, his tone gently chiding.

“Oh, so I did,” Narcissa said somewhat dismissively.

Ginny watched the interaction between the two with interest. Her feelings about seeing him again were somewhat conflicted. When she'd seen him earlier in the week at the office, he'd been cool toward her, yet, the memory of the kiss they'd shared continued to haunt her. His attention was currently directed toward his mother, so Ginny took the opportunity to study him discretely.

It was more easily said than done, as Ginny once again felt her face flush as she attempted to keep herself from staring at him.

He was difficult to ignore. He was dressed in grey business attire, making his eyes seem more intense. His hair fell carelessly over his forehead. He was casually leaning against the doorframe, yet he easily managed to command the room with almost no apparent effort. It was no wonder that he was so successful in business and was building the family reputation back so quickly. She compared his charisma to that of his father, and how, in a few years, he could easily become just as intimidating. She only hoped that he would not follow his father's radical idealism.

"I'll leave you to your, guest," he said and turned to Ginny, his smile showing a small amount of mischief. She felt her heart skip a beat.

- ~ -

An hour later, she Apparated home and ran into the house.

She had a date. She couldn't believe it, but this truly did feel very much like an actual date. She found herself both hating the fact that she'd accepted in the first place, while simultaneously looking forward to it.

What a mess.

Her mother stared in shock as she ran through the living room and tore her way up the stairs.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, what in the world is going on with you?"

"Sorry Mum," she responded, stopping midway up the stairs, slightly out of breath, though whether it was from the short run, or anticipation of what the hell she had just gotten herself into, she wasn't sure.

"Is everything all right, dear?"

"It's nothing, Mum. I just kind of, well, it's hard to explain ..."

"Take a deep breath and try."

"Well, it's ummm ... I sort of have to find a dress. I'm going out to dinner."

"Really?"

Ginny knew there would be no avoiding giving more information. Of course, her mother would want to know more because seeing Ginny happily married seemed to be high on the older woman's priority list. Unfortunately, Ginny had regularly and vehemently declared that she never wanted to fall in love ever again. Her steadfast refusal of every possible suitor in recent months had only stirred her mother's well-intentioned disapproval. She would not likely be able to leave the house, dressed for dinner, without giving her mother some form of explanation.

"It's not a date, Mum."

"Of course not. Where are you going?"

Ginny responded sheepishly, "Angelica's." As soon as the words left her lips, Ginny regretted her response. Angelica's was only the most posh, expensive restaurant in Diagon Alley. This conversation was not going to go well, she thought.

"With a wizard?"

"Yes, Mum."

"And it's not a date."

"No! I mean that it's really just a business thing."

"Like the evening gown business thing?"

Well, Ginny thought, her mother wasn't fully aware how that evening had turned out. She realized, after a few moments, that her mouth was now hanging open with the thought of where this was going. It really was a date. Egads.

"Well...."

Molly sighed. "Dare I ask who the young man is?"

She thought about coming up with a lie, and promptly dismissed the idea. Lying wouldn't matter, because her mother had some sort of mind reading ability for things like this. Ginny was sure that her mother had already guessed. Nevertheless, Ginny mumbled, as incoherently as possible, "Dracomalfoy."

"Ummm Hmmmm."

Oh, the long, drawn out "um hmm" did not bode well at all. Ginny looked around the room for anything that might suddenly create some sort of distraction. Maybe, just maybe, if she concentrated hard enough, she hoped that she might be able to disappear into the floor.

"Mum, it's not what you think."

"Then, please, dear, tell me what I should be thinking." Her mother looked at her with such concern that Ginny felt like she was about eight years old all over again.

"His parents made other plans and told him to go out, and we were just going to celebrate pulling off the ball so successfully last weekend. That's all."

"Ummmm Hmmmm."

"It's nothing, Mum."

"Ginny, sweetheart, you know that I don't want to interfere with your life ..."

"Then, please don't," she looked at her mother, her hazel eyes pleading for understanding.

"Are you certain that you'll be all right with him?"

"I'm sure, Mum. I've worked with him for the last two months, and he's actually been quite ... tolerable."

Her mother finally relented and allowed her continue her quest to find something suitable for a nice evening out. As she tore through her closet, she realized that she had nothing that she wanted to wear. Yes, she had plenty of nice clothing for work, but they were, well, conservative. Even though this wasn't a date, she was going someplace nice and wanted to look appropriate.

In the end, she Flooed Hermione, who loaned her a lovely sleeveless black dress with a plunging neckline and flouncy skirt.

As she walked downstairs, Molly looked her over, and Ginny had to give her credit, she didn't try to start anything. "You look lovely, dear."

"Thanks, Mum."

"You best run along, before your father comes home and starts asking questions."

She hugged her mother, and grabbed her purse before running outside to Apparate back to the manor.

- ~ -

They arrived at the restaurant and were shown to private room where a table, perfectly set with a simple rose for a centerpiece, was waiting for them.

"A private room, Malfoy? Isn't that a bit much for a casual dinner date, as you called it?" she asked as he pulled out a chair for her to sit.

"I tend to get a lot of attention from the newspapers whenever I go out, and, after last weekend, do you really want them to start them speculating even further?"

"I suppose you're right."

"I am frequently, if not always, right."

She gave him a mischievous gin. "I would be curious about the occasions where you aren't right."

"My mother is usually involved with those."

"That doesn't surprise me in the least." She laughed. She was actually having a sane conversation with him, and enjoying herself. Would wonders never cease. She continued on the topic of his mother, since it was relatively safe territory.

"She certainly is a force to be reckoned with. I could only imagine trying to dispute her on anything."

"You have no idea," he responded. The tone in his voice echoing her own opinion of Narcissa's persuasiveness.

"Oh, I think I do. The last two months have been the longest of my life."

"Try living with her."

"You have a point."

The blond smiled. "You've done quite well with her, Ginevra. You've earned her respect. Not many have the fortitude to get past her outer shell anymore."

Their wine had arrived and Ginny paused to take a sip. He'd just given her a rather unusual compliment. There was no question that Narcissa was a difficult person, and Ginny wondered if that had always been so, or if it was only since the war. In any case, Ginny realized that Narcissa had softened greatly toward her over the last few weeks.

"It was necessity. I had a job to do, and my future career depended on success."

"It's amazing what one can accomplish out of necessity." He looked thoughtful, and seemed to withdraw just a bit.

"Like find a way to smuggle Death Eaters into Hogwarts?" Her tone was teasing as she spoke the accusation, and she found that she felt slightly guilty for bringing up the topic. Nevertheless, it was one of the things about him that weighed heavily on her.

He looked down in shame. "Something like that," he took a sip of wine.

She waited for him to speak further, wondering if her comment might spark some of the malicious temper that she'd known him to have in school. It was hardly a pleasant or comfortable topic, but she was no longer bound by her employment, and it was something that she needed to know.

He continued to sip his wine for a few moments, then looked up at her. There was sorrow in his gaze. It wasn't the reaction she'd expected.

"You realize that it was one of the few times that I ever went against my mothers wishes," he finally said.

"She didn't want you to do that?"

"No, she didn't. Voldemort would have killed her and my father if I didn't try, and he fully expected me to die in the attempt. My mother wanted me to escape and wait out the war abroad."

"You couldn't do that," Ginny stated, surprised at the realization.

"I couldn't abandon them. I wanted to help my father so badly and, up to that point, I really did believe all that crap about following Voldemort."

Ginny nodded, trying to think of what she would have done if the situation were reversed. It gave her a new insight into the man. Unsure of exactly how to respond to his admission, she took another sip of wine and looked back up at him.

"I'm glad you all found a way to survive."

"Thank you, I suppose. It hasn't been easy. Necessity has forced us to change a great deal, and my parents are a bit bitter."

"It will get better, with time."

"That's why I work every day to establish myself. I can't leave this kind of legacy for my own children."

"It seems to be working."

"It's slow. As I told you before, I still get shunned. Everything I do is under scrutiny by a lot of the old guard. Believe it or not, it's the Quidditch team that has been one of the best things for me right now."

"The Falcons?" She wasn't about to bring up the fact that she'd just spent the last week doing everything in her ability to join that team, under an alias to top it off. It would be a bit awkward.

"Yes. That's been my salvation, of sorts. Not just because I love Quidditch, mind you, but as the owner, I get a lot of good press. The team reflects me in a lot of ways, and it's helped me establish an identity apart from my father's."

"I heard some players will be leaving at the end of the season," she said casually, hoping that she didn't appear too enthusiastic when it came to talking about the team.

He paused in his answer, looking uncomfortable. She wasn't quite sure why. "Yes, unfortunately. We had trials just last week, and it seems we might be taking on a witch for a Seeker.”

"Really?" After catching her breath, she found it took an enormous amount of effort to keep from looking too excited about the topic.

"Amazing little thing," he chatted on, now onto a far more comfortable topic. "Fast as a rabbit, but plain as brown paper wrapping. The blokes on the team have already taken to her."

She smiled at the praise, thinking of how good it felt to be part of the team.

They chatted amiably for the rest of the meal. The food was every bit as fabulous as the restaurant's reputation boasted. After a few glasses of wine, Ginny felt relaxed, and realized that she was genuinely enjoying his company. They wandered down the street to a local park and Draco pointed out that he'd have to take her on a tour of the manor gardens someday. She agreed, thinking that it was unlikely to occur, but polite for her to accept.

A clock in the distance rang the hour, and they both realized that It was getting late.

"I'll Apparate you home," he offered politely.

"Oh, you really don't have to ..." It was bad enough that her mother knew whom she'd spent the evening with. She didn't need to have her father see one of his least favorite people appear on his doorstep.

"I insist. It was impolite enough that I didn't pick you up at your house. I'll not let a lady attempt to go home alone, especially after imbibing all that wine."

"It wasn't that much."

He chuckled at her, and, grudgingly, she took his arm.

They appeared at the front porch of The Burrow with the usual loud pop that accompanies Apparition.

He looked up at the unseemly structure that was her home, and she waited for his cutting comment. It never came.

"Fascinating,” was all he said as he stared at the home curiously.

"That's all you have to say?"

"I've just never seen anything quite like it before. I mean, I've heard a few people describe it, but it truly does defy words."

"I love it here," she said, looking lovingly at the awkwardly shaped structure.

He looked down at her, his eyes shining with unbridled good humor, and she realized that she was still holding his arm. She released him, and started to step onto the porch.

"I enjoyed your company this evening, Ginevra."

"Thank you. I had fun."

He stepped up closer, so that she took a step back, her back now up against the post on the porch. He was quite effectively invading her personal space, and she found that the thought thrilled her, although she quickly deduced that it was likely because of the wine.

"I'd like to see you again, Ginevra."

She nodded, her eyes locked onto his, and swallowed, even though her mouth had gone quite dry.

"How about tomorrow? You could accompany me to the Falcon's practice and check out the new Seeker," he suggested eagerly.

"I... I have to work." It was a lie, but she couldn't tell him that she was supposed to be there as said Seeker. Somehow, she thought that stating such a thing would sound just a bit odd.

"How about Sunday, then? I could show you the gardens at the manor. They're quite extensive, most can't even be seen from the house."

There was the monthly family dinner. She felt a stab of disappointment that she already had other plans. "We have dinner here on Sunday, with the family, it's a monthly event ..."

He started looking disappointed as well, and for some reason, she wanted with all her heart to make that look disappear. "Maybe after dinner? Say four o'clock or so?"

He brightened, now leaning over her, his hand on the post that she was backed against.

"I'll call it a date then."

"Is that what it is?" She felt surprised to actually be calling it such. After all, the thought had plagued her all evening. She'd wondered, more than once, if he was thinking the same thing. Was that really what it was?

"Ginevra." He smiled. "What else would you call it?"

"Oh, I don't know, but a date ... I mean ... doesn't that usually imply ..."

She never finished the sentence because she was stopped by the feeling of his lips on hers. She found herself responding to the kiss immediately, as if that was what she'd been waiting for during the entire evening.

Apparently, the kiss after the ball had not been a fluke, because this one was just as good, and left her heart literally pounding in her chest. He was indeed a good kisser. She felt herself becoming weak in the knees and his arm moved around her waist to pull her closer.

When he pulled away, she felt more than slightly breathless, and looked up at him wide-eyed.

"A date?" he asked.

"A date," she confirmed shyly, feeling light headed. After being kissed like that, she felt she would have agreed to just about anything.

With a casual smirk, he walked off the steps, with that commanding presence that she'd found so attractive. Swagger. Yes, that was the word she wanted to use. He turning to smile at her one last time as he Apparated away.

She was smitten. Egads.

She turned to go into the house, feeling like she was floating.

- ~ -

Molly Weasley was still awake, despite the late hour. It was unusual for her not to be in bed at such a time of night, and she knew that she'd be tired in the morning, but it didn't matter to her. She had wanted to make sure that Ginny got home safely, although she didn't fully want to admit that being concerned was the true reason. After all, Ginny was going to be twenty-three in only a few weeks and she was certainly old enough and capable enough to take care of herself. So, Molly puttered around her kitchen trying to keep herself busy and telling herself that she wasn't being over-protective.

She had been rearranging the contents of her cupboards when she heard the familiar pop of someone Apparating home. Confirming with the clock that it was indeed Ginny's hand that had just moved to "home," she decided to give a quick look out the window.

She saw them talking and Molly judged from the initial observation that their conversation was nothing earth-shattering. Ginny certainly didn't seem to be stressed. In fact, her daughter seemed relaxed and rather happy. As the boy smiled and flirted with her, Molly realized that this was not the nasty, arrogant boy that Ron and Harry had endlessly complained about. All she saw was a pleasant young man who appeared to be enamored with her daughter. When he leaned forward to kiss her, Molly moved away from the window, feeling guilty for intruding on the private moment.

Ginny walked in the door a few minutes later, obviously surprised to see her mother awake and cleaning.

"Mum, did you wait up for me?" Ginny's tone was good natured, but slightly accusing and Molly gave her daughter a slightly sheepish look. She was indeed quite guilty despite her recent bout of self-denial. It was a mother's right, after all, to be just a bit curious, wasn't it?

"No, I just couldn't sleep and thought I'd finish this,” Molly replied.

Her daughter clearly didn't believe her, but didn't push the issue. Ginny stared at her with a look of accusing humor. Molly simply decided to change the subject.

"Did you have a nice evening, dear?"

“It was very nice, Mum.”

There was no mistaking the glow emanating from her daughter, and Molly didn't miss the fact that the question had caused the girl to blush. Molly thought about her husband's likely disapproval of the young man in question, and immediately thought of how her own father had once disapproved of her seeing Arthur. She decided that she wouldn't put her own daughter though similar circumstances.

Molly sighed. "I take it you'll be seeing him again."

"Yes, Mum. I suppose I will."

"I'll have to find a way to tell your father." The relief from her daughter was visible as Ginny smiled and hugged her.

Molly motioned to the nearest chair, giving her daughter a wink. "Now, tell me all about it ..."

~ -

Ginny greeted her Sunday morning with very mixed feelings. On one hand, she was happy, as always, to have everyone she loved together under one roof. On the other hand, she had more than a few reasons to avoid talking to all her brothers, especially if the talking involved one rather intriguing photograph in the previous Sunday newspaper.

She truly wanted the day to be done as soon as possible so that she could be away from any potential prying questions from her family. Unfortunately, such days had a way of dragging by in an agonizingly slow manner, much like molasses on a February morning.

Not that Ginny didn't have some fun during the day. The weather was pleasantly sunny and warm. She joyfully chased Bill's two children around the yard and later was even able to laugh off the infamously erroneous ways of the Daily Prophet, since there was no way that the topic of the last weekend's front page photograph was going to be avoided.

Fortunately, her assumption that the family held the integrity of the newspaper in rather dubious regard was correct. The initial discussion of the article was quickly followed with story after story of how Harry's reputation had been slandered regularly by overly ambitious reporters of the publication in question. There was plenty of laughter and Ron's face turned the requisite shades of purple as he allowed his temper to get the best of him as some of the stories were recounted. Harry, much the calmer, would only say that he was glad that the worst of it seemed to be in the past. He gave Ginny a sympathetic look and he encouraged her not to let the paper bother her too greatly.

Ginny herself contributed very little to the conversation, afraid that she might accidentally say something she'd regret. She felt somewhat undeserving of their support in the matter and glanced over at her mother with a slightly guilty look. Her actions on Friday night no longer left her completely blameless and she was well aware that her mother was thinking the same.

Although the article in the Prophet about her role at the Malfoy ball had been blown outrageously out of proportion, she had to admit to herself that the article wasn't entirely untrue. She had, of her own free will, gone to dinner with the man, albeit after the fact, and she had enjoyed kissing him...twice. And now she was looking to go out with him again this very afternoon.

As the participants in the conversation babbled on about Ginny being misrepresented, she remained silent and let them assume she was innocent. The downside, however, was that she felt like her silence in the conversation was nearly as bad as an outright lie.

Guilt aside, she still felt it was in everyone's best interest to assume that any relationship with Malfoy was non-existent. There would be a time and place to bring it up later if, by some unlikely chance, anything came of the situation. Announcing to the family seemed just a bit premature knowing the reaction that they would likely have.

She gave as small, grateful smile to her Mum, silently giving her a thanks that she was allowing Ginny to let it play out on her terms.

Finally, they sat for the meal and Ginny found herself eating far too quickly in some effort to make the afternoon pass more quickly. This did not pass unnoticed by her mischievous twin brothers.

"What's the matter Ginny?" Fred inquired, nudging her with his elbow.

"You look like you're trying to avoid us today."

"Not keeping any secrets, are you now?" they teased.

She dropped her fork. She was. Oh goodness, she was. She found herself mortified by the thought that perhaps someone had caught onto her unusual silence when they were discussing Draco and the Daily Prophet. She felt her body tense with anticipation as they implied that she was up to something elicit.

Fred and George took turns dropping teasing hints, until she threw a dinner roll at them, drawing Harry's attention from across the table.

"What is going on, guys?" Harry finally asked.

Ginny found herself looking away nervously, making Harry's gaze on her turn slightly suspicious. Wondering if every stray thought she'd been pondering all day was written clearly across her face, she settled on trying to give him her most innocent look possible, as she pointed a fork at her brothers. She then proceeded to shove a large portion of mashed potatoes into her mouth. The action was intended to distract Harry into thinking that whatever issue she was having was only because the twins had evoked it from her.

"Oh, tell him, Gin," Fred prodded.

Her mind immediately ran through any possible scenario where the twins might have identified Draco bringing her home on Friday night.

"You know he'll find out soon enough," George joined in.

She felt cornered. Did they somehow know more about her plans this afternoon? She tried to stave them off by giving them her dirtiest look, but the mouthful of potatoes ruined the overall effect. She shook her head negatively and settled for a glare to hide her embarrassment.

Her mind was so totally focused on someone finding out about her date that she'd completely forgotten that it wasn't her only secret of late.

"Quidditch, of course!" they said in unison to Harry.

Ginny let out an audible sigh of relief. Her brothers seemed to take it as her simply expressing her annoyance at them because it only prodded them to look rather smug.

"I'll let you tell him," Ginny finally gave in after swallowing her food. "Since you both obviously can't keep a secret."

Harry perked up at the mention of one of his favorite subjects. He appeared relieved that the conversation had finally turned from his past history with the newspapers and he eagerly leaned over to listen to whatever seemed to have them so excited.

"Tell me you aren't going to have me kicked off your team entirely, now,” he said in a somewhat conspiratorial tone. “Since Ginny has replaced me as Seeker, I'm starting to get a bit worried."

Easily, the twins could have gone on for at least twenty minutes teasing Harry about being replaced as Seeker. It became obvious that their news was much more important, because they dropped the subject and moved back to their original topic far too easily.

"Well, you've heard about the new Seeker on the Falcons,” one started.

Harry nodded. "She's the first witch to make it onto any professional team outside of the Harpies," he stated knowledgeably. "I can't believe that of all the teams out there that it's Malfoy's team that turns out to be the most progressive."

"You know Oliver Wood plays for them," Fred added.

"Oliver probably had some influence. They say he's being groomed as the new Assistant Coach," Harry added. He'd obviously been keeping up to date with the latest Quidditch articles. "He'll do well. He probably had something to do with hiring a witch. It makes me wonder what it's like for her to be the only female on the team."

"You might be able to ask her yourself, if you're nice," George said.

"Yes, we happen to know her personally."

"Really?" Harry's face lit up.

Ginny rolled her eyes as the twins baited him. Knowing Harry, he was probably hoping that they'd set him up on a date with the aforementioned witch. He was about to be sadly disappointed.

"Yeah, you'd be surprised the contacts we have. Right, George?"

"You bet, Fred."

"Did you meet her at the joke shop?" Harry's enthusiasm was building and the twins were practically beside themselves with the glee of edging him on.

"Actually, she used to be an employee of ours."

"Played on the team, too."

"You might say we trained her."

"Yep, she wouldn't be the star player that she is today without our help.”

"Makes us famous, doesn't it, Fred?"

"I should say so."

The twins could go on all day like this, and Harry rolled his eyes at Ginny as she smiled at him.

Finally he could take it no longer. "Who are you talking about?" Harry interrupted.

"Well, it's our darling baby sister, is all," Fred gloated, his face beaming with pride.

As Harry looked over at her, she smiled shyly, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about her secret being known.

Harry looked confused. "I thought they published the new player as someone named Francine."

"One and the same, Harry!"

"That's all our doing too."

"But why? Why change your identity?" Harry asked, ignoring the twins and turning to Ginny. She wasn't quite sure how to answer that and her verbal pause unfortunately gave the twins the opportunity to answer for her.

"C'mon Harry, do you really think she'd have had a fair shot for a spot on Malfoy's team if she went as herself?"

"You're right there," Harry agreed, his disgust for his school adversary showing. Ginny found herself biting back a response. She suddenly felt they were being just a bit unfair. Quite truthfully, after the tryouts and the practice sessions this past week she found it unlikely that Malfoy would have been primarily responsible for rejecting her if she'd applied for the position as herself. After meeting the coach, her age and curvy stature would have had a far greater impact, but she said nothing.

"It's mostly that I'm too old. They think Francine's only nineteen," Ginny said, hoping that it would halt any further discussion on the matter.

"Yeah, and we made her an American. Show him your accent, Gin!"

"I'd have to use the spell,” she responded. “I keep slipping up. And I don't like it that much anyway."

"Well, it's a good thing you don't have to talk much while you're flying," Harry commented. "But do you really think it's a good idea to maintain an alias?" He looked at her a bit skeptically. She had to agree with him that it was a terrible idea, but the damage had already been done. She had to defend her choice.

"It's a little odd changing right now," she informed him. "Oliver and I have already talked about when I'll make some sort of announcement, if this even lasts past the next few weeks. Now is not a good time, because he says they'll likely just release me for deceiving them. I'll wait till they get to know me a little better. Besides, I'm just thrilled to be playing Quidditch right now. I mean, can you believe it?"

Her enthusiasm for her accomplishment started to show through as she spoke that last statement.

While it would likely be easiest to simply report that she really wasn't Francine before things went too far, she thought it would be rather a messy subject. But now, Harry knew and was also sworn to secrecy, along with Oliver and the twins. Slowly, enough people would know and her secret would come out. She figured that it wasn't a bad thing.

In the mean time, she had bigger secrets to keep, considering that she had a real date this afternoon with the team owner. This seemed far more disconcerting than the information about Francine becoming public knowledge.

- ~ -

She arrived at the manor as soon as she could break away from the family. Although her brothers had openly chastised her as soon as they suspected that she had a date, she'd refused to admit to it. Her mother was the only one who knew that she was meeting Draco and, despite giving her daughter a look of concern, still wished her luck as she waved Ginny off.

Ginny realized that she was getting far too familiar with arriving at the front gates of Malfoy Manor and she found that small fact just a tad disturbing. Nevertheless, she trod up the now familiar steps to the main door and waited for the house-elf to announce her arrival.

To her surprise, today was different, as it was Draco himself who greeted her at the door.

"I was getting a bit worried that you'd changed your mind," he said as he invited her inside. She had expected him to be angry, but was surprised to see that his expression seemed to be almost concerned.

"Family stuff," she responded, looking contrite. Sometimes it's a bit difficult to tear away from everyone. They all seemed to find it absolutely fascinating that I was leaving for a possible date, and I had to practically hex them all to get them to let me leave in peace."

"You'll have to tell me about having a big family," he said conversationally as they wandered through the halls of the manor, toward the back parlor and the gardens. "I don't have much experience with dealing with such a large lot."

She tried not to seem surprised by his statement. She had almost expected one of his old insults about her family, yet, once again, there was no trace of the malice she'd once known. He had been almost normal to be with over the last few days and she was reluctant to do anything that might disrupt this new way he'd been relating to her. She decided that perhaps treating him like a normal person was in her best interest.

Fortunately, the pause as she pondered her answer was only long enough to make her appear thoughtful. "It has its good and its bad. Sometimes it's wonderful because there is always something interesting happening, other times, it's difficult because there's very little privacy."

"You didn't tell them it was a date?"

Her thoughts immediately moved toward trying to come up with a cover story, but she didn't want to break the comfortable friendship that they seemed to be forming. She elected to be honest with her answer. "Mum knows that I'm out with you. Not much gets past her."

"And she didn't ship you off to St. Mungo's for an evaluation?"

She smiled, feeling rather shy. Honesty was more difficult than she initially thought. "No. She's a bit concerned, but she understands that I enjoy your company."

They entered the gardens, talking about family in general while Draco paused to point out different features of the area. There seemed to be a history or story behind every sculpture or section, and it spurred endless discussion. At some point, he'd taken her hand and Ginny tried not to let it show how much it affected her.

They finally sat, with his arm around her, watching the sun set. As Ginny accepted his embrace she no longer had any doubt that she was falling for him, despite her better judgment. The pause in their conversation gave her a chance to analyze the fact that things seemed to be moving quickly. If it were anyone else, she might not have given such a fact so much as a second thought, but it wasn't. She was with a man who was formerly associated with Death Eaters and she felt a small warning flag rise in the back of her mind. She needed to know more.

“Two months ago, I hated you, you know.”

“A lot of people hate me. I'm used to it,” he replied, half-jokingly.

“But this was different.”

“You didn't hate me, Ginevra. You may have disliked me intensely, but it's not in you to hate.”

It certainly was observant of him, she thought. No, she hadn't hated him even though she probably should have. She didn't have the history of dealing directly with him like Ron and Harry did and rightly couldn't form such a strong opinion of him based on what she knew. “How do you know that?”

“I read people well.”

“Not always. You didn't in school,” she said.

“Are you talking about Potter?”

“And my brother.”

“They really were insufferable back then, you know,” he said, smiling at the thought.

She had to admit that Ron definitely had his annoying moments, especially when it came to dissuading any potential boyfriends. But, she couldn't resist pointing out, “So were you.”

“We were children. We saw the world the way our parents taught us.”

She contemplated his remark. Was he trying to apologize for being so horrible? “Maybe....”

“I still do. But, I've learned from my parents' mistakes. You probably have too,” he said, staring off at the setting sun. He appeared to be contemplating something.

He seemed to be opening up to her, so, she decided to probe a bit to see how much he'd actually changed. “I hope I did. Do you still hold a lot of the same ideals that you did back then?”

“Do you mean do I still have a predisposed idea that purebloods are superior?”

“Well, that wasn't exactly were I was going, but since you brought it up...” Actually, that was exactly where she had been going, but she didn't want to sound rude.

“I won't lie to you. I still have some leanings toward that.”

She stiffened in his embrace.

“I can only be perfect in so many ways, Ginevra.”

She looked at him as if he had three heads. She had no idea how to interpret that last statement.

“Yes, it was a joke. You can laugh, you know.”

She did chuckle, but continued to question him. “But you still feel strongly about Muggle-borns?”

“It was how I was raised. It's part of who I am. I'm not going to go around insulting them, but I still have my doubts. I can't say I buy into the pureblood-only views either. After all, Voldemort was only a half-blood and he was incredibly powerful. Granger is Muggleborn and one one the most competent witches I've ever seen. I guess I need more information. In any case, I can't hold those kind of prejudices and be successful in business, so I've adapted, as my father says.”

She seemed thoughtful. “I like this side of you. You're different from what I expected after all I've heard about your family.”

He stared off into the distance thoughtfully and was silent for a long time before he spoke. “You're different from your family also, you realize.”

“How's that?”

“Your family, they consider my family as evil, don't they?”

“I suppose so. My parents have probably lost a lot of sleep over me spending time with you over the last few months, even if it was only for business.”

“Yet, you're still here. You've overlooked the past and you've started to see my parents as being different from the reputation they've acquired.”

“I've started seeing you differently too.”

“I was hoping you'd say something like that,” he said, his voice growing slightly husky. He looked at the sunset, then back to her. “Did you know that the sunset matches your hair?”

She smiled at the change of subject, but never got the chance to respond as he pulled her into a long, soft kiss. The sky slowly turned to twilight, a dull red glow the only remaining color on the horizon. Ginny found herself lost in the moment, as the sensation of his caress drove the dragonflies in her tummy into a frenzy.

She reached her hands up to the back of his neck, caressing his soft blond hair, and let out a moan as his lips moved to nibble on her neck and down to her collarbone.

Every fiber of her being wanted to let herself go and admit that she was falling for him completely, yet, a tiny, persistent voice seemed to interrupt her freefall.

“Draco?”

“Ummm...”

“We shouldn't be doing this....”

He pulled away from the kiss and looked at her. His gaze was so honest that it was almost her undoing.

“What's the matter, Ginevra?”

Anyone, anyone else who called her Ginevra, would have heard her berate them severely, yet each time she heard him call her by her given name, it sounded wonderfully like a caress. She loved him saying her name. She wanted to hear him say it more often, but something inside was holding her back from letting things happen.

“This is turning into something, isn't it?”

“I was under that impression, yes,” he said with a smile, and moved to continue to let his fingers pay homage to a spot on her neck, right near her ear.

She was still holding him, her arms around his neck, and she slowly let go, her hands tracing his face as she pulled away. This was hard. She loved what was happening and if it was any other wizard in the world, she likely would have simply kept quiet and let things happen between them. But it wasn't any other wizard. She'd just spent the entire day worrying herself half to death that any of her brothers would suspect that she was secretly seeing this man.

“This is a little frightening for me.”

“Because of my family name, or my prejudices?” he asked calmly. He was no longer looking into her eyes but was focusing on his hand as it traced patterns on her shoulder. She could tell he was bothered by her statement.

“Neither.” It wasn't a lie, exactly. Neither was important to her, at least not after their conversation. This was something else, something that she couldn't quite place. She needed time to sort things out and found herself searching for the words that would give her that time.

“Good,” he said.

“I need you to understand that I have my own issues right now.” It was the first thing that came to her mind.

She did. She truly did have her own issues. It wasn't just his background and worrying about her brothers pitching a royal fit. It truly had to do with the fact that she was just jumping into the next convenient thing. She wasn't ready to fight the battle with her family over proprieties if this was simply going to be a fling.

Her statement seemed to finally get his attention, and he pulled away slightly, still holding her, and looking at her intently. “And those would be?”

“Six months ago, I was ready to move in with someone, and I'd just broken it off. Two months ago, I disliked you more than anyone in the world, except maybe your father. I'm.... I'm just not ready to get involved with anyone right now. I'm thinking that you and I had a wonderful moment last weekend and we're both just a little carried away with that.” There, she said something. It sounded like useless drabble, but it was the best she could come up with before she truly got into this farther than she was ready for.

“You're making excuses, Weasley.” His gaze leveled at her.

It was true. She was terrified that this fling that she seemed to be falling into was nothing more than a mistake, that she was carried away with the romanticism of the ball. She was afraid that he was nothing more than a beautiful, romantic fantasy.

“Not excuses. I don't want to make excuses.”

“Then what is your point? I find you interesting, Ginevra. I think that you find me the same. What is wrong with getting to know each other better?”

A million things. Not the least of which was trying to explain this to everyone. Her mother could be brought around, but her brothers would be difficult. And then there was her recently formed alter ego who happened to be working for him on his Quidditch team. And not the least of which was her fear of getting into another relationship. Marcus had been bad enough, and Draco's personality was so much stronger. She didn't want to have someone control her like that again.

“I'm not ready to be seeing anyone right now. This isn't about you. It's about me. I'm... I'm sorry. I really think that I need to go,” she said somewhat shakily. She couldn't do this. Not now. She needed to leave before she made a mistake. His expression showed no small amount of surprise, but he remained silent.

If he had tried to make some sort of excuse, to persuade her, she might have preferred it. But his reaction only made her feel worse. She suddenly realized that she wanted a relationship with this man, badly. She just wasn't ready for it, and he respected her for it. It was a reaction she'd been unprepared for and it made her feel even more attracted to him.

- ~ -

She tried to return to normal the next day. However, normal had taken on a radically different turn, as she quickly came to realize. Her life had now become hectic and exhausting due to her overbooked schedule. She found that between work and Qudditch that she was able to push thoughts of him aside, at least during her waking hours.

The next three weeks flew by, literally and figuratively.

Quidditch had become an all-consuming passion. Ginny was flying four days a week in practice matches with the team. She still had a great deal to learn as she practiced every maneuver and memorized every signal the team members gave each other in order to perform their aerial acrobatics in perfect sync. She found herself becoming more and more agile as she built up more strength and stamina. It was almost like she'd become fused to her her new, top of the line, team-issued broom.

After practice, she would hurry into Tinkerton's to keep up with her normal work schedule there. As a practice player, she didn't earn enough to quit her work at the caterers, but she had been able to cut back on her hours a bit. Ms. Tinkerton had been less than happy with her request but, because Ginny was one of her more valuable employees, she was willing to agree to a reduced schedule in order to keep her.

Each night, Ginny returned home and spent what little free time she had before bed talking to Fred and George, and sometimes Harry, about her daily exploits on the practice squad both in the air as well as with her teammates and coach.

They eagerly discussed each day with her, wanting every detail of what went on behind the scenes of a professional team. Her brothers now regularly boasted that they were her biggest fans, and subsequently saved every newspaper article, no matter how minor, from every publication they could find. They both claimed that if they looked closely at the pictures of the new girl on the Falmouth team, they could tell it was Ginny.

As it came to pass, Saturdays quickly became Ginny's favorite day of the week. That was when she attended the weekly Quidditch match to see her team perform at their best. She had to admit that she absolutely loved attending each match in person. Better still, she had the best possible seats in the stadium as she waited on the side of the pitch with the coaches and other backup players. Even if she never made the team, she decided that the experience itself was well worth her efforts.

Overall, she would say she was happy, although she was so busy that she barely had a moment to herself. Sundays were free, and she spent those sleeping as late as possible to catch up on her rest. She found that she didn't care. Each night she fell asleep, completely exhausted, her dreams an odd mix of Quidditch and a blond prince.

- ~ -

Chapter 11 – And the Plot Thickens
- ~ -

The end of July was fast approaching and the weather was hot and humid, as was to be expected. Ginny took little notice of the weather because her mind was focused elsewhere. It was now her fourth week working on the Falcons and she was only beginning to adjust to a hectic sort of routine.

Little did she realize that, once again, things were about to change whether she was ready for it or not.

This particular week started out normally enough, with one small exception: it was almost Harry's birthday. As a birthday present for her friend, she'd acquired tickets for that weekend's Falcons match for Harry, Fred and George to attend. It was a nice side benefit of being a member of the team.

In a way, she thought it was fun that they'd all be at the match together, albeit seated separately. She'd been particularly looking forward to recounting the day's activities with them at Harry's birthday party that evening. She anticipated it being a happy day.

As was now her pre-game ritual, Ginny donned her disguise and entered the Falcons locker room, walking purposefully to the room reserved for the lone female player. She carefully suited up into her now familiar black and gold uniform, adjusting the protective pads, making sure that the pads didn't inhibit her movement in any way. Finally, she looked into the mirror making a final check to ensure her disguise was properly in place before her teammates arrived. Though the process of becoming Francine was now quite second nature to her, she found the ritual of that last check comforting.

With all ready, she left her changing area to wait in the team's meeting room. Oliver arrived shortly afterward and greeted her warmly. As Ginny returned his hug, she realized that the simple gesture also was becoming part of their pre-match routine.

When the remaining members of the team arrived, she joined them as they discussed details about strengths and weaknesses of their opponent while they performed their personal versions of stretching and warm-up activities. Finally, as the last of the players settled into the room, the coach began his weekly pre-match ritual, covering last minute changes, and reminding the team of any final strategies to be used.

Today's match was at Puddlemere so, immediately after the coach completed his speech, the team Portkeyed to the Puddlemere stadium.

They entered the pitch as the visiting team, hearing the crowd shout more than a few boos as the team was introduced. Ginny remained unfazed by the fans' reaction, as she was still enthralled by the idea of simply being there. Barely hearing the crowd, she looked eagerly into the stands to locate and wave to Harry and her brothers, feeling overjoyed to find them waving and grinning back happily.

She sat down on the designated team bench on the edge of the pitch. As she looked over her team she once again felt grateful simply to be where she was, on the sidelines with a great view of a professional match. She couldn't help but think that she'd remember this season always; regardless of the outcome of her Quidditch career. She was enjoying the moment and laughed inwardly at the thought that, maybe, after her time here was over, she would just have to permanently become a Falcons’ fan, despite how much it would displease her brother Ron.

Speaking of displeasing Ron ... she fell into another one of her routine habits as she glanced over at the luxury box and caught sight of the familiar light blond hair of Draco and gave a heavy sigh.

Every week, she allowed herself that one long look and realized that she had now joined that annoying group of witches who were reduced to fawning over Draco Malfoy. It was pitiful, she knew. She took a small amount of comfort in knowing that absolutely nobody would take any notice of little Francine's attention. She was grateful that, at the very least, she could be pitiful while in disguise.

Had it only been a month ago that she'd actually been on a date with him?

She took a deep breath and looked away, turning her attention back to the pitch. The match was beginning and her focus belonged on the field, since it happened to be her current job. As she always did, she made a mental note to daydream about him later, when she had time.

Her moment of distraction over, she watched Roger, the team captain, as he went through the usual procedure of greeting the opposing team's captain. Once formalities were completed, the teams were off in a flurry of activity with Quaffle, Bludgers and Snitch.

Ginny became lost in the elegant battle on the pitch. She once again marveled at the precision of her team as they flew through each of their patterns from the week's drills flawlessly, despite having to overcome Puddlemere's aggressive style. She loved watching them play, knowing that part of their success was due to her efforts during the weekly practice drills.

As the game wore on, Ginny found her attention drawn to the one Puddlemere Beater that she knew: Marcus Hutchins. How different he looked, flying out there. She'd never actually seen him play in person, since she'd only begun dating him at the end of last season, and had broken it off prior to the start of this year's season.

Watching him now, she had the distinct feeling that if she had had the opportunity to see him play last season, she likely would have ended the relationship sooner. His tactics reminded her of the way Crabbe and Goyle had played on the Slytherin team at Hogwarts. His style of play was brutal, bordering on illegal. In short, he was dangerous.

Two hours into the match, the Falcons were winning by eighty points and the frustration of the Puddlemere players was starting to show. The Falcons were continuing to out fly the United's defenders. Oliver continued to block goals, making it more and more frustrating for their opponents. Puddlemere needed the Snitch badly, because, as the game wore on, it became obvious that the Falcons' lead was only going to increase.

As Ginny watched excitedly, another goal was scored by the Falcons and the lead had gone to ninety points. Soon, the catching of the Snitch would be irrelevant. Ginny felt the suspense growing as the local Puddlemere crowd became more and more hostile in their shouting.

It became a defining moment in Ginny's life. She later remembered the sequence of events in an almost dreamlike slow-motion.

The Snitch had been sighted and the Seekers were weaving their way across the field, dodging Bludgers and Chasers as each player on the opposing teams did their best to distract the Seekers from their prize. Even with the distraction, both teams continued their own quest to score with the Quaffle.

Ginny vaguely recalled standing with her fellow teammates on the sidelines shouting and cheering for their Seeker, James, in his rush to the Snitch. During the flurry of activity, which could only be described as organized mayhem, the incident occurred.

Marcus Hutchins timed hitting the Bludger so that it appeared to be an accident, but Ginny had been watching him closely throughout the match and she saw the look on the Beater's face as he aimed. It was no accident when the Bludger soundly smacked into the side of James' head. The Seeker was knocked from his broom, instantly unconscious. The sound she heard when his limp form impacted the ground made Ginny feel ill.

She tried to look away, but was rudely interrupted as she felt a hard shove from behind.

"Get on your broom and get out there, NOW!" Coach Raymond ordered.

She glanced back to see a combination of concern and fury on the older man's face. Her broom in hand, she leaped onto the field in a free fall. In a gloriously acrobatic and graceful move, she mounted the broom as she was descending, moving from free fall into full flight in one fluid motion.

Play was paused for a few moments while James was taken off the field and Ginny took that brief respite to force herself to put thoughts of the injured Seeker out of her mind. She didn't have time to think about what she'd gotten into, as her world had suddenly been reduced to only herself, her broom and the Snitch. Once the whistle blew, she was the picture of concentration as she raced across the field in quest of the elusive Snitch.

It was only minutes before the device was spotted again, causing her and the opposing Seeker to once again barrel across the field, weaving around the other players in their pursuit. As they raced along, she suddenly and unexpectedly felt her broom shudder as a Bludger impacted the tail end, spinning her around. She barely hung on. When she finally pulled her broom back under control, she turned to continue her pursuit. Her heart dropped as she looked up and saw the Puddlemere Seeker leering in triumph as he held the Snitch firmly in his grasp.

They'd lost.

- x – x -

After they Portkeyed back to their own locker room, she changed quickly, then found a quiet place to remove her disguise before heading back to the main locker room to talk to Oliver.

She couldn't face her team as Francine. At least, not now. Her embarrassment and humiliation consumed her entirely and the thought of talking to anyone on her team, or worse, being interviewed by the sports reporter for the Daily Prophet, was simply unfathomable. She'd single-handedly lost the game that her team had rightfully deserved to win.

As she approached the lockers, she couldn't help but overhear the conversation within.

"I told you, she's too small. I didn't want her on the team in the first place, no matter how fast she is!" Coach Raymond was shouting.

"I still want to give her a chance. We can't find anyone in the next week or so anyway, so I want her to start," Roger, the team captain, was arguing back.

"I agree,” the coach muttered grudgingly . “It looks like we're stuck with her for now. But I want a trial for another replacement. James is out for the season."

"He was planning on retiring at the end of the season anyway," said another person. She identified the voice as possibly being Oliver.

She felt awful. Five minutes on the pitch, and she'd already lost her team's confidence. She was devastated, and, although the argument continued, she hardly heard a word. Her dream career would likely end in a week or two, once they found a new Seeker.

Oliver stepped out a few minutes later with Roger, both looking rather unhappy.

"Hey, love," Oliver greeted her, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. It was as close to consoling her as he could get while in front of another team member right now.

Roger grinned impishly at her. "Oliver, you devil. Are you going to introduce me to this lovely lady?" He took her hand. "And your name is...?"

"Ginny. Ginny Weasley."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss. Weasley. I would love to stay and chat, but I'm afraid I'm a bit cranky to be around after losing a match. Hopefully, we'll be able to get acquainted some other time," he said, his face once again returning to a more somber expression.

She nodded in agreement, and he gave her a weak smile before he left.

Oliver took her hand and looked into her eyes, looking at her seriously. "Are you all right, Gin?"

She felt tears threatening behind her eyes and fought them back. No, she wasn't quite all right. She felt like a total failure.

Her voice partially broke as she responded, "I don't know. It sounds like this wasn't such a good idea after all. Fortunately, nobody is going to hold it against Ginny Weasley, since nobody knows it’s me. I'm rather liking the fact that it was Francine who lost the match today." The tears began to spill from her eyes. She had wanted this to work, so very badly. It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

Oliver held her hand comfortingly and looked her square in the eye. "It was your first game. It was your first five minutes. You were sitting on a bench for two hours watching, and barely got your broom under you, so of course you weren't going to be able to do your best. It was NOT your fault and I want you to get that thought out of your head right now."

She nodded, reluctantly. Deep down, she knew he was right, but, her confidence was badly shaken.

He put his arm around her shoulders in comfort as they walked out of the stadium. They took a long walk back to meet Harry and her brothers before heading home. Mostly, Oliver spent time getting her mind off the match, which was odd, because he was probably just as peeved about the loss as anyone else. He was being a coach, and he wanted his protégé to get back on track. She acknowledged and appreciated that.

She tried not to dwell on the loss of the match too heavily, although it was a huge topic of conversation at Harry's birthday party. She, Harry, Oliver and the twins chattered on until late in the evening about the game. All of them giving her endless words of encouragement, convincing her that it was a learning experience. It wasn't easy to fully accept, but, she had to admit that by the time she went to bed, she felt much better. At the very least, she vowed to walk back onto that pitch and try again.

- x – x -

On Monday morning, she found another peach rose on her desk from Oliver, asking her to dinner. Now, it wasn't that she hadn't gone to dinner with Oliver in the past, but this time it was clearly different. Before, they had only met up after practice to talk about the Falcons, or her training, or similarly related topics. They'd gone as friends. This was different. The wording of the note along with the flower were clear in their implications. Oliver wanted this dinner to be a date.

Normally, one would expect that an attractive, petite twenty-two year old woman would be completely thrilled to be getting an offer of a date from a fairly popular athlete. Most women in a similar position would be chittering up a happy storm to all her girlfriends. Such an offer would normally cause a woman to have butterflies in her stomach and accept said offer with alacrity.

Not so for Ginny.

Ginny wanted nothing to do with it. Zero, zilch, zippo.

To go back to the reasons why Ginny Weasley was currently unattached, she reiterated to herself that she had declared herself the anti-romance queen, after all. There was a reason she detested being in that stereotypically lovely little enchanted faerie garden, all Malfoy encounters aside.

And why did he pop into her head just now? Ugh.

She sat back and stared at the note, a heavy sigh escaping. The action caught the attention of her co-worker and friend Camille. "Gin, what's up? Something bad?" she asked.

Ginny shook her head. "Not bad... exactly."

"What is 'not bad exactly' supposed to mean?" her friend chided.

"Oliver Wood asked if I'd like to meet him for dinner tomorrow night."

"Oh. My. Gosh! Ginny, that's wonderful!" Not that Ginny minded the girl's enthusiasm, but it truly didn't help her situation. "Where, what time? What are you going to wear? I can't wait to tell my sister, she's had a crush on him for ages!"

"Camille, please!" Ginny interrupted. "I'm not going to go."

"How can you not go, Ginny. You haven't had a date in forever and this is Oliver Wood! Of course you're going to go."

She hadn't told Camille about the dates with Draco after the ball. The speculation about him had, fortunately, died down over the last few weeks. She was grateful for that. Camille had long since stopped provoking her with that particular topic.

"He's a friend of my brothers, that's all. He probably just wants to catch up on them a bit," Ginny grumbled, by way of an excuse.

"If he wanted to catch up with your brothers, he'd ask them to meet him at the pub."

Well, there was no faulting her friend's logic there. Ginny sighed and finally responded, "I don't need to go on a date. That is the last thing I need. He's just a friend."

"Oh, don't you give me that Ginny. You haven't gone out with anyone since... you know. You can't stay away from men forever."

"I can sure try."

"No. You. Can't. And you know it. At some point, you've got to jump back into the romance game, and what better way to start?"

- x – x -

Ginny looked at her mother as she moved through the living room before leaving on her date. Molly looked up from mending a shirt to give her an encouraging smile, obviously happy that Ginny was moving on in the dating arena.

Despite her mother's good intentions, it drove Ginny just a bit mad. It wasn't always best for her family to know every last detail of her life, and it was currently one of those occasions where Ginny really, really wished that she didn't still live at home with her parents.

Oliver arrived shortly after that little internal meltdown.

Sensing that her mother was about to start a long conversation with her date, Ginny grabbed her bag and hurried him back out the door, mere seconds after he'd set foot inside. Then, wishing her mother goodnight and telling her not to wait up, she rushed out right after him, not missing the delighted look on her mother's face.

Dinner felt awkward. She couldn't quite figure out why. She'd gone to dinner with Oliver in the past, and she couldn't deny that he was a good-looking wizard, as well as friendly and charismatic. They had a great deal in common, considering their Quidditch careers. As she labored through the meal, she also considered the fact that they'd developed a good friendship over the last several weeks, and he even got along with her brothers. Yet, she couldn't quite feel at ease.

At the end of the evening, he Apparated with her back to The Burrow, giving her a goodnight kiss on the doorstep. The evening was lovely, the kiss was sweet, and she found herself wondering why she wasn't the least bit interested in him.

She politely turned the conversation away from future dates, with the reason being that playing together on the Falcons, as well as his potential to move toward a coaching position might prove awkward.

At least Oliver seemed to feel the same, he all but admitted. She was grateful, since both of them voiced a desire to not strain their growing friendship. She already had enough of a problem with strained feelings regarding the team's owner, who, fortunately didn't recognize her around the team due to her disguise.

Good and bad came out of the date. Good, in the fact that she and Oliver became closer as friends, and she was very grateful for that. Bad, in the fact that the lackluster moment of kissing him only made to remind her of the kisses from another man who made her body virtually sing.

In short, the attempt to move on in the dating area did not help her in the least when it came to forgetting all about the blond team owner.

- x – x -

The next week flew by, literally. With Quidditch now being her full time occupation and, with the equivalent pay to go along with it, Ginny finally decided to take a leave of absence from her job at Tinkerton's. She spent the extra time during the week practicing, working to sharpen her skills for her next match. A match in which she would start as Seeker. She felt slightly overwhelmed.

At the very least, with her catering duties removed, she now had enough free time to spend some of the money that she was now making. She had shopping to do. Francine needed some new clothes for being seen outside of the Quidditch pitch, and she'd recently decided that Francine's taste was somewhat different from her own.

Odd how one's alter ego could develop a personality, Ginny mused.

It was a sunny day, and hot, being midsummer, but it didn't deter Ginny from enjoying her afternoon off quite well. She decided to stop in to get an ice cream before continuing her shopping trip when she encountered Narcissa Malfoy. To Ginny's mild surprise, the woman smiled and greeted her pleasantly.

“Miss. Weasley, how nice to see you again.”

“Hello Mrs. Malfoy, a pleasure,” Ginny returned politely.

“I was just about to stop in for something cool to drink, won't you join me?” the woman invited.

A force of nature, Draco had said of his mother, and Ginny had to agree. While the woman's tone was pleasant and inviting, there was somehow no question that she would take no for an answer. Ginny smiled at the eccentricity of the woman. Still feeling that she owed Narcissa for her past kindness, she easily agreed.

As they seated themselves in the small shop, sipping their drinks, Narcissa chatted amiably with Ginny about casual topics. When she asked Ginny about her work, she answered as truthfully as possible, keeping the topic to what little she'd done at the caterers lately.

“How is your family? I hear that one of your brothers will be expecting a child soon.”

“Yes, ma'am. My brother Ron and his wife Hermione.” She paused, wondering if Narcissa would be offended at the mention of Hermione.

“Ron and my son have never quite gotten along, have they?” Although, her words were a statement, not a question.

“No, Mrs. Malfoy, I can't say that they have. In fact, I'd say that they've enjoyed hating each other quite well.” Ginny smiled as she spoke. Funny how time changes ones perspective. Looking back, Ginny now found that it was almost amusing to recall how Ron and Draco had taunted each other in school.

Narcissa sighed. “He always was such a stubborn boy.”

“Well, Ron has my father's temper, I'm afraid,” Ginny offered apologetically. Her brother's ability to rise to the baiting that the Slytherins threw his way certainly never helped matters.

“I was referring to Draco, dear.”

“Oh,” Ginny said, looking rather surprised. Narcissa chuckled at her response.

“No need to worry. It is probably that the boys are more alike than different that makes them so abrasive to each other. Men are like that. It's best to ignore them when they get that way.”

Ginny smiled at the older woman's wisdom and sipped her drink.

“From what I've heard, it seems that the Granger girl is a good match for your brother, is she not?”

“She's just as headstrong as my brother, and they fight endlessly, yet somehow they bring out the best in each other.”

And so they chatted about a variety of things for the next hour or so, Ginny finding that Narcissa had a wit about her, usually at the expense of her husband and son. When Ginny made note that she needed to be leaving soon, Narcissa made one last comment.

“I am hoping that you might be able to come by for dinner tomorrow evening, if you are free.”

She couldn't, or could she?

“Oh, Mrs. Malfoy, that might not be such a good idea, you see ...”

“I understand. A lovely young woman, such as you are, must have other plans.”

“No, Mrs. Malfoy. It's not that. I'm not seeing anyone ...”

“Then, please, come to dinner. I enjoy your company. Lucius generally reserves Friday evenings to talk about the business dealings of the week with his friends, and I tire of it, so I end up dining alone. It would be good to have you there and we can talk about this year's upcoming ministry ball. I'm quite curious about the latest in Muggle fashions at these events, as it seems to be a growing trend. You've been more exposed to some of the recent functions and I need to be brought up to date," Narcissa persuaded.

Somehow, Ginny had a feeling that Mrs. Malfoy would probably find another way to continue this conversation at a later time, regardless of her answer. The woman seemingly could not be deterred once her mind was set.

The problem was that she had actually started to grow fond of Narcissa. The older woman had softened towards her, though Ginny could see that she still held her icy exterior for almost everyone else. It made her feel oddly privileged, so she didn't have the heart to say no. Why Narcissa liked her, she wasn't quite sure, but the older woman's emotions seemed genuine.

So the next day, Ginny found herself once again Apparating to the front of Malfoy Manor.

She and Narcissa had a lovely light dinner. The wine was excellent, and the conversation flowed in Narcissa's friendly but exceedingly polite tone. She asked about Fred and George's business as well as how she had been playing Quidditch on their team. Narcissa's favorite topics almost always flowed to her son, whom she obviously adored. Ginny found herself listening raptly, while feeling almost guilty for wanting to know more about him.

He arrived just as they were starting on their dessert.

“Draco, darling. You're just in time to join us for dessert!”

If the woman didn't just look like that cat that got the cream! Of course the dinner was a plot, Ginny found herself thinking. She should have known. They may not be as evil as she'd once thought, but they were still manipulative Slytherins to the core.

“Mother,” he greeted, giving her a polite peck on the cheek before taking the seat across from Ginny.

“Miss. Weasley,” he said, giving her a quirky smile, addressing her formally, but using that teasing tone as he said her name. Once again, he had reverted to enjoying the fact that his presence made her uncomfortable, so she straightened and tried to appear nonchalant.

“I didn't realize you'd be joining me this evening. I thought you had other arrangements,” Narcissa said conversationally.

He glanced at Ginny, then back to his mother. “You must have been misinformed, Mother. I apologize if I'm interrupting your dinner.”

“Oh, not at all, dear.”

Their conversation went on along those polite lines for several minutes, and Ginny had to hide her amusement. Narcissa had obviously planned for this situation and was only thinly trying to disguise the fact. Draco also saw right through his mother's fib but he smiled and went along politely, occasionally giving Ginny an amused glance.

After dinner, Narcissa came up with a convenient excuse to leave them alone.

“Can't say I wasn't expecting that,” he drawled, after watching his mother hurry gracefully out of the room.

“No, the only question in my mind was how quickly she'd manage to escape,” Ginny smiled in response.

“I'm sorry about that,” he said. “She seems to like you, and has made mention of it more than once to me. If I wasn't so fond of her, I'd probably hex her.”

“You would not. I can't believe I'm seeing your mother be so ... sweet.”

“I'm still sorry she did this. She shouldn't be putting you in a position where you are uncomfortable.”

“Don't be. I'm not.”

“Sorry, or uncomfortable?”

“Neither,” she said. Egads, she'd missed him. The kiss from Oliver had made it all the more clear that she was completely smitten with this man. She looked into his eyes to see if she'd completely missed her chance. The look she got back gave her hope.

They stared at each other for several heartbeats, and she realized that his response remained somewhat cool. After all, she had rejected him, so he had every right to not give her a second chance. Finally, he broke the silence. “Well, Ginevra, I don't think she'll be back anytime soon. I'll see you out.”

He rose to escort her from the room. As they walked along the hall, she tried to draw him back into conversation. “I saw you at the Falcons’ luncheon last week.”

“I looked for you. I didn't think you were working that event.”

“I was in the back,” she lied. Of course he didn't see her, she had been there, but disguised as Francine.

“Your date seemed rather nice ...” she continued awkwardly.

He stopped walking and turned to her. “She's got the intelligence of a Niffler. Lovely to look at but not much use otherwise.”

She nodded, taking in a gulp of air as he looked intently at her.

“How are things with you? I hear you've been seen out with Oliver Wood lately,” he said rather stiffly. Obviously, he was feeling awkward as well.

“He's just a friend. We talk about Quidditch ...” Which was true.

“Just a friend ...”

“Yes ...”

The kiss landed swiftly after that. It wasn't at all like the soft, gentle kisses that they'd shared before. This kiss was demanding on both sides, as each wanted to make it clear that their intentions were far more serious. She'd had a month to think about it, and she was now quite certain that she was ready to see where this relationship might go. She was only too thrilled to realize that he seemed to still feel the same way.

As they moved the spontaneous snogging session to the parlour, neither bothered to notice whether Narcissa ever returned or not.

- x – x -

She arrived home late in the evening, and found her mother once again waiting up for her.

At least this time, her Mum didn't have to ask, because the glowing expression on Ginny's face told Molly all she needed to know.

- x - x -

Chapter 12 - Juggling Act

They agreed to see each other quietly for the time being. The drama created by the photos in the Daily Prophet after the ball had created enough disruption for the both of them. It was mutually agreed that they didn't want to have to worry about dealing with publicity around a relationship that had barely started; not that she viewed it as a relationship just yet.

She had convinced herself that she needed a fling, of sorts, and she was hoping that maybe this was simply a mutual attraction that each of them had to work out. So, for the second time in her life — the first being her attempt at professional Quidditch — she threw caution to the wind.

During the first two weeks, they would go to dinner privately or spend time at the manor in the gardens. Mid-week, she would have dinner with him at his flat near Diagon Alley.

Two weeks into the ‘relationship’, Draco had taken her to the small lake on the estate, and they spent the sunny afternoon swimming and lazing on the beach, taking frequent breaks for snogging.

"I can't believe I've been here with you at least a half dozen times, and you still have something new on this place to show me."

"And there's still much more. You can see why I can't stay away."

"Well, I had been concerned that you still spent weekends with your parents ..." she teased.

"The house is more than large enough to keep a dozen people in there, and we'd never come across each other if we didn't want to."

"But you still keep a place in town."

"I have to keep up appearances, and it's easier to be there if I work late or want to entertain privately. Besides, there are times when I'd rather not say I'm living at home with my parents."

"I'm sure. Especially with all those rather gorgeous women I've seen you with at parties," she baited. A small part of her was quite curious about how many of those women had been invited back to that flat.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, and she saw his eyes light up with mischief.

Was she? She hadn't thought about it before, but maybe this thing they had going wasn't exclusive. She started to feel a growing knot in her stomach at the thought. Although, she had little to be ashamed of. If anything, their interaction was more like a courtship than a fling. He'd not gone any further physically than some very passionate kisses, and she adored it when he held her close. It was both flattering and frustrating. Not that she was interested in this thing going very far, but she did have a rather morbid curiosity about where she stood with him.

After a long pause, she finally responded, "No. Why would I be jealous?" She tried to sound casual. "We've already established that you don't seem to have any issues attracting women, and you did tell met that you used to find it rather fun."

He laughed. "You are jealous!" And he leaned over and gave her a quick kiss, causing her to blush furiously.

"Humph!" she snorted. "I never asked you about us being exclusive."

"Would you like this to be?"

She hadn't thought about that before. It had started as trying to quell the physical attraction she'd felt for this man. An attraction that she was certain was only based on the romantic notions she'd gotten into her head at the ball over six weeks ago. Now he was talking about being exclusive. Or perhaps he was simply teasing her, as he had so many times while they were working on the plans for the ball.

"Are you baiting me again, Malfoy? I was under the impression that you were not interested in being attached to anyone. Based on what I've seen, you can certainly attract any number of gorgeous women. I don't see why you would ask something like that from someone like me."

He chuckled again. "Do you know why I asked you to escort me to the ball?"

"Because I wouldn't be fawning all over your conceited-self all night, and I had the reputation to help your parents start to reintegrate back into their high-society."

"That was part of it, but those reasons were minor."

"Well, do you care to share, or am I going to have to keep myself awake all week trying to figure it out?"

"Cheeky, you are," he said. "That's why I like you. You're interesting Weasley. You're also intelligent, and rather fun to annoy."

"And this answers my question, how? I still don't see why I'm here with you right now, instead of one of those Playwizard types that I normally see you with."

"And I told you, it's because they bore me. You've seen me at the parties, I rarely actually spend time talking with my own date. If I do, all she seems capable of is talking about fashion, or something equally superficial. I told you I tired of those types quite a while ago."

"Yet it doesn't stop you from dating them."

"Well, I didn't say I was a monk, Weasley. There's a difference between dating a woman and getting involved with one."

"Are you saying we're involved?"

"I thought I'd just asked you if that's what you wanted?"

"I... I hadn't really thought you were serious."

"Well, I am. What do you say, Miss. Weasley?" he teased her with his mocking formal tone.

"Well, if it means that I get to spend more lovely afternoons like this with you, I suppose I could agree quite readily. You're growing on me, Mr. Malfoy, despite my better judgment." She smiled somewhat shyly at him. This was unexpected, and quite true that it was against her better judgment but, she'd found herself growing quite fond of him.

"Good," he confirmed, and leaned in for another kiss.

- ~ -

Ginny's hard work on the Quidditch pitch over the next two weeks paid off, as she won the next two matches for the Falcons. James, still recovering from his injuries, now sat on the sidelines, cheering her on, and she appreciated the former Seeker's support. They were a team, and they'd come to accept Francine wholeheartedly.

Practices became more grueling. Ginny constantly strived to sharpen her skills further, so that she could integrate distracting the opposing team's Chasers more effectively while simultaneously hunting down the Snitch. As each game passed, she became more and more proficient at the task.

She was having the time of her life.

With her success came an unexpected issue, however. It seemed that Francine was now becoming an overnight sensation. She was the new darling of the Quidditch world, and the act of turning back into Ginny Weasley was now going to create an enormous problem.

After her third win, she and Oliver once again started talking about it.

"It's time for you to at least tell the rest of the team who you really are," he suggested.

She wanted to so very badly. Here she was, the most popular player in the league right now, and nobody knew it was her. It was frustrating.

"I know. I know. But I just don't think I should."

"You're putting it off, Ginny. There's no reason you can't at least let the team know now. They have publicity people. I'm sure they'd find a way to make it a great story."

"But that's just it. I can't. I can't let it come out like this. Not yet."

"Out with it Ginny. There's a reason," he prodded.

She looked at him earnestly. He was turning into a very good friend, and she briefly wondered again why she couldn't have fallen for him instead. It would have made all this so much less complicated.

She wanted to confide in her friend, but she felt awkward about it.

"Yes, there's a reason, but I don't feel comfortable talking about it just yet," she told him.

He nodded, reluctantly, but didn't press her further. He simply let her know that she could trust him with the secret when the right time came.

- x – x -

As the summer wore on, they often had at least one weekend day free, depending on when the match was scheduled. Unfortunately, now as a starting player, she was in more demand for other events related to the team. She would use false excuses, such as her previous catering work, or a family gathering, as a cover for the time she spent being disguised as Francine.

She felt like she was literally living two separate lives.

She'd finally admitted to her mother that she was seeing Draco, and her mother was working to soften up her father so that eventually she could tell him as well. Consequently, Ginny hesitated to tell her mother or the rest of her family about playing on the Falcons, since her mother would probably start assuming that she'd gotten on the team due to some sort of elicit favor. Trying to figure out how to bring all that into the open was getting rather awkward.

Fortunately, her parents assumed that ‘going to work’ continued to mean the catering job. Ginny continued to get the company gossip about events from Camille, which she would add into casual conversation to make it appear that she still worked there. Nobody seemed to notice her increased interest in talk about professional Quidditch.

Not that she spent that much time with her family, as of late. She found herself becoming more and more enthusiastic about her time with Draco. The relationship was becoming more serious, and she found that she had no desire for it to end anytime soon.

- x – x -

By the end of August, she fully realized that she truly felt at ease around him when she found herself at his flat, dozing with her head in his lap after dinner one evening. He playfully nudged her awake, making note of her mussed hair.

"Next weekend, I want to teach you to ride," he offered.

"You're kidding."

"Why would I? You like horses don't you?"

"I do. I used to beg my parents for a unicorn or a pony every year when I was little. My brothers still tease me about it."

"So, why do I sense hesitation from you?"

"Because a horse isn't something like a broom, where I have control over it. A horse has its own mind, and I'm concerned about it and I having a disagreement."

He laughed. "So, Ginevra likes to be in control of the situation. I think I've learned something here."

She smacked his arm lightly. "It's not that, you prat. It's just that I don't want to look ridiculous."

"Oh, so you're afraid, or just afraid of not being in control?" He smiled, pulling her in close as she tried to look angry.

"You're impossible!"

"You realize that I find you irresistible when you're furious."

"So, you're baiting me purposely?"

"Of course. But you are still going to go riding with me next weekend."

"I wouldn't count on it."

"Oh, I would, my dear. I think I like this idea. I promise to put you on a nice, gentle mount. We'll go slow."

"That's another reason not to do it. My broom is much faster."

"Do you still play Quidditch often?"

She hated questions like this. She wanted to tell him about herself. She wanted to share with him about her pride in being on the Falcons, and how she felt that it was her greatest accomplishment.

She internally justified her lie with the reasoning that wizards, with the kind of charisma like Marcus or Draco, hated seeing a witch being so successful in a traditional wizard's sport. More than likely, he'd see her success as some sort of threat to his masculinity. She once again settled for telling him a half truth.

"I play with my brothers on a recreational league," she said, waiting for some sort of reprimand for her unfeminine hobby.

"You were hell on a broomstick at Hogwarts. I would think that you probably still are," he commented.

She was surprised by the reaction. Most of her previous boyfriends really did not care to hear about how good she was, even in Hogwarts. "You don't have any problem with me playing Quidditch?"

"Of course not, why would you ask that?"

"Let's just say, that not all wizards seem to approve of me playing."

Her trepidation had been based on more than simply the reaction of Marcus, or other ex-boyfriends. She'd never paid it much attention in the past, but over the last few weeks, she'd started to become well-acquainted with just how biased the Wizarding world was about witches in traditionally male roles. In her enthusiasm to follow her career in the papers, she'd seen plenty of negative commentary about witches playing professionally. Francine's presence on the Falcons had created quite a stir.

"I don't have a problem with witches playing. If I did, I wouldn't have Francine on the team."

She sensed an opening to maybe breach the subject about Francine's true identity and decided to ask. His answer would have an impact on her future on the team. "What would you think if I was good enough to be on your team?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"No, I'm serious. What if I was good enough? What if I was just as good as Francine?"

"Do you think you are?"

"I thought we were talking hypothetically," she diverted.

"Well, if you were, there are a few issues. First, I couldn't replace Francine in favor of you, because it would look extremely bad. You know I can't give the impression that I'm using my influence to favor anyone. Second, even if Francine left the team next year, I still would have some issues with you because, I would hope, you and I will be public knowledge, and again, I can't be seen as putting someone on the team that I handpicked due to a personal relationship."

Ginny said nothing but felt crushed. She tried to hide her disappointment but the crux of the problem was his public image. She hated him for that, though she'd been involved enough with the family to understand that he had his reasons, and they were very valid reasons.

"Everything is about image for you, isn't it?" she asked.

"It's not my choice. It's because of the world we are living in,” he responded conversationally. He hadn't picked up on Ginny's disappointment.

He continued, appearing to be intent on getting her to understand his situation. “I have an obligation to my parents, and to their future grandchildren. My family name has to be above reproach. It would take only the smallest hint of dishonesty and the world will start rumors of my family falling to the Dark side again.”

His expression softened as he looked down at Ginny's frown, trying to cheer her with a light joke. “Sorry, love, but you will just have to try out for the Cannons. Although, now that I think about it, I might not want you playing against me, due to you possibly getting inside information from just being around me and the team. I'm afraid you'll just have to be content with sitting with me up in the luxury box — looking gorgeous, of course."

With that last statement, he leaned over, lifted her chin and gave her a light, affectionate kiss. He had no idea that his comments about a hypothetical scenario had been completely devastating.

"I would look forward to going to one of your recreational games sometime." He smiled. "I truly would love to see you fly again, now that you're not playing for Gryffindor, of course. I might actually be able to enjoy it."

Damn, here he was trying to be rather sweet, and she felt a weight settle solidly onto her chest. He didn't have a problem with her playing, but he'd have a problem with her playing professionally. Granted, he thought her question was purely hypothetical, but he had his reasons.

She quickly came to the conclusion that she would have to choose between him and Quidditch, or find a way to keep up this strange double life every summer for the next few years, or until their relationship ended, whichever came first. The thought made her feel sick.

- x – x -

Saturday's match did not go well. They lost, but not due to Ginny's Seeker abilities. Halfway through, Oliver had gotten hit soundly, aggravating his old injury, and had to be replaced. The score had been tight, and her timing with catching the Snitch wasn't soon enough to overcome the number of goals scored by their opponent.

The team left the field disheartened. Oliver would likely not return to being a starting player ever again. The only good news was that the team was interested in taking him on as an assistant coach.

It didn't take long for Oliver to pull her aside, and once again prod her to tell the team the truth about Francine.

"I can't," she told him flatly.

"I don't see why not,” he insisted. “I'll be working full time as a coach now. I can make sure that things work out.”

"They won't work out, Oliver. If anyone finds out who I really am, I'll be finished here," she admitted miserably.

"You are making no sense whatsoever, Ginny. I think it's time to give me the full story." His tone left no room for argument. It was obvious that his patience was at its limit where this was concerned.

"I started seeing someone," she said.

He looked at her without comprehension, and seemed a bit sad. "Ginny, I don't hold that against you. I'm all right with that. We're friends, after all, yeah?"

So, he assumed that it was only because of their failed attempt at dating. "Thank you, but that's not the reason."

"And the reason is..."

"I'm seeing Malfoy."

His jaw dropped. He put his hand to his face and started to turn away in pure shock. After a moment, he turned back, looking more composed.

"You're kidding."

And so, she proceeded to relay the recent conversation she'd had with Draco about her playing on his team and about why she and Francine had to remain separate for the time being.

"Crap," was his only response after she was finished.

- x - x -

Ginny entered the gardens at the now familiar manor, putting aside all thoughts and worries about Francine. She had a new challenge ahead of her, because, this time, she found herself heading toward the stables.

She had to give him credit for his persuasiveness. One week after Draco had threatened to teach her to ride, she found herself on a tall, elderly gelding, walking around the paddock on the Malfoy estate with Draco seated on a sleek, high-spirited mare by her side. He seemed to enjoy directing her to sit straighter, or use her knees, as she tried to coax the elderly horse to move his lazy arse around the paddock.

"I'll get you for this, Malfoy," she groused, as the horse ignored her and lowered its head to start nibbling on some grass outside the fence.

He laughed openly at her distress, and moved his mare to gracefully make a circuit around the ring, jumping over a pair of fence-like obstacles in the center. She found herself laughing inwardly, and admiring the beauty of the movement of the pair.

The unguarded look of happiness on his face as he breezed over each hurdle was a pleasure to watch, and she found herself enjoying the sight. How things had changed. She'd seen him smirk, smile, and laugh, but never had she imagined seeing him with such a genuine look of happiness as she saw on his face right now. She became instantly addicted to it.

- x – x -

Narcissa peered out the window of her sitting room toward the paddock that was just visible beyond the gardens. She'd always loved to watch her son during his riding lessons, and now he was tutoring the Weasley girl. It appeared that Ginevra had much to learn.

Lucius came up behind his wife, putting his arms around her as he looked out in the direction of her gaze.

"He enjoys the girl," he stated.

"He does. I find her interesting as well. She broadens his perspective."

"I find that hard to believe, my love," he responded.

"She is untrained, but intelligent. She challenges him to see the world from the viewpoint of one who hasn't been brought up with our privileges, yet she is capable of adapting."

"And it doesn't hurt that your friendship with her has brought you back into society's good graces," he pointed out, kissing his wife affectionately on the cheek before looking out the window again.

"No, that doesn't hurt at all. Her reputation aside, she's more than I expected."

"You don't intend for this to go on, do you, my dear? I would think that he would tire of her after a few months and find someone of our class."

"Are you saying you disapprove of her, Lucius?"

"Not so much disapprove, except that I've adapted about as much as I can. I can tolerate the Weasley girl herself, but the thought of possibly interacting with the rest of the family is distasteful at best,” he said, his expression appearing as if he'd just eaten something rather sour.

"You'll adapt as much as you need to, my love. The girl has proven useful, and she has so far failed to show any major flaws beyond her family name and class. Besides, I've decided that I like her. She makes Draco happy, and we've had far too little happiness in this house in the last several years."

Lucius sighed in defeat.

- x - x -

Ginny arrived at the Fred and George's local pitch on the Friday afternoon, the day before her final professional match of the season. Her own practice with the Falcons had ended early, so that the team could rest. As a reward to themselves, she and Oliver headed over to watch her brothers play.

She was hoping that after the practice, everyone would go out to dinner to celebrate the end of their respective seasons. It had been the most incredible summer of her life and she was looking forward to celebrating with her brothers. However, guilt gnawed at her that she had avoided making plans with Draco for the afternoon. He'd wanted to be here, to see her play, and she'd lied to him...again. She tried to console herself that it would be better next week, after her professional season ended, but it still bothered her that she'd put him off.

She was hoping that, during dinner, she could bring up the topic of Draco to her brothers, as well as ask them for help in how to deal with outing Francine.

Each time she thought about it, she could only imagine how Draco might react. He was so sensitive to propriety in his public appearance that she knew he'd be extremely unhappy with the situation. She felt that the scenario could easily appear to the public that she was using him to further her career. Her only hope was that things between them had progressed enough that he might understand.

As she watched her brothers fly around the pitch with their teammates, she chatted idly with Oliver, and eventually Camille stopped by.

"I didn't know you were into Quidditch," Ginny greeted her friend teasingly.

"Well, I don't mind watching although I'm not a player like you, Ginny. Besides, I am forced to support my boyfriend," she joked while motioning to George. "It's quite the hardship."

Oliver laughed and muttered some comment about women and relationships as he leaned back on the bench and closed his eyes. Ginny began to relax. Tonight, she was hoping to have all of them helping her work out her mess, and she knew they'd want to help. As the match ended, Fred and George came over to greet their audience.

"Oh, look, Fred, the big time Quidditch players came to watch us play!"

"They're just jealous and want to see how the other half lives," Fred responded.

"Will you two stop it!" Camille teased, smacking George playfully.

"Hello, love," George greeted her with a quick kiss.

"And you teased me about not saying anything about my boyfriend," Ginny blurted out to Camille. "And might I remind you, my friend, that you kept the fact that you were seeing my brother quiet from me for almost three months!"

"Point taken," her friend responded cheekily.

"What? We know she's seeing someone," George said, motioning to Ginny. "Don't tell me she let on who it is?" George asked, directing his question at Camille.

"I'm sworn to secrecy," Camille responded with a saucy smile.

"I'll get it out of you, love," George teased his girlfriend.

She giggled. The others responded with a variety of rolled eyes, and over-exaggerated groans.

"Hey, Oliver," George said, as he turned his gaze to Oliver,who was still lazing back on the bench, carelessly soaking up the warm sunshine.

"Yes..." he said, he said lazily, his eyes still closed.

"I've, well, we've got a new broom for the shop, and I was hoping to ask you to test fly it for us," he said. Fred just stood there nodding.

As Ginny watched, this sent alarms off in her head. The twins never asked for something like that without some sort of plot in mind.

"Why do you need me to test it?" Oliver asked, slightly confused with the request.

"It's got a charm on it to write a message, and we just want to make sure we've got all the bugs tweaked out of it before we start selling. Fred and I need to be on the ground to see if it's working properly."

"Sure, mate. Hand it over."

He casually got up and took the offered broom before Ginny had a chance to stop him, or at least warn him.

Ginny had seen that look in her brothers' eyes too many times. Anything could happen. She tried to interrupt and started to say, "Oliver, you might..."

"S'alright Gin," Oliver called back as he took off. "It will just be a few minutes, and we'll get you to dinner early."

She watched in horror as Oliver quickly mounted the broom and took to the sky before she could so much as finish her sentence. Almost immediately, the broom took off with a demonized mind of its own, blasting an array of bright multi-hued sparks and soaring at least a hundred feet into the air. As they all watched Oliver clutch the broom tightly, Ginny could see that he had no control over the device whatsoever. It spun madly, jerking up and down in abrupt twists and turns, smoke and sparks trailing behind.

She could hear Oliver cursing the entire time; all she could do was watch in fascinated horror.

Finally, after close to a minute of sheer terror, the broom darted sharply back toward the ground, flinging its rider off about ten feet above the ground. Oliver tumbled to the ground grunting in pain, the wind knocked out of him.

Both Ginny and Camille screeched and ran to see if he was all right.

"Looks like it still needs a little bit of adjustment, George."

"You're right, Fred. It takes away from the overall effect, since nobody seems to be reading the message."

"I would say so," his twin agreed.

Ginny turned to give them a dirty look as she and Camille helped a slightly battered but still functional Oliver to his feet. Both girls turned to coo sympathies to him.

"Damn, Fred. If I'd have known about the attention he'd be getting, I would have ridden the thing myself."

"Sometimes life is simply unjust."

They came back to the stands, Oliver limping, with the girls on either side of him, all three glaring at the twins.

"So, what do you think?" George asked innocently.

"I think it needs some work," Oliver growled at them.

"The message looks good though," Fred said, ignoring them both and staring up at the sky.

All five then turned their gazes up to the message.

It said: CAMILLE, WILL YOU MARRY ME?

Camille turned to George and soundly smacked him in the arm.

"That's not looking like a yes, George," Fred stated.

"That's your idea of a proposal?" she demanded.

George tried to look innocent and Ginny found herself stifling a giggle. She probably would have laughed outright, except that it would have been rude since Oliver was in pain.

"Well, I was supposed to be standing here with my arm around you while it all got written, and then I was going to give you this." He held out the box holding an engagement ring.

Camille gasped.

"If I wasn't so mad at you..." she stammered.

"What?" he asked, sounding as innocent as one of the twins could ever possibly manage.

Ginny nudged her friend, causing Camille to look up at George with a resigned smile. He was incorrigible, and that's what she loved about him. Ginny sighed as her friend finally smiled and stuttered a quiet, "Yes."

"Well, all right then." He grinned and hugged his new fiancée. Fred started to silently cheer as he grinned stupidly at both Ginny and Oliver.

With Camille's face buried against George's shirt, he pulled her into warm embrace. Camille gave a muffled response, "But I'm still mad at you for almost killing Oliver."

Anyone who was going to fall for one of the twins, certainly needed an enormous amount of patience, Ginny observed. It appeared that Camille possessed such a gift.

Oliver grunted and clapped George on the shoulder. "I'd be happier for you, mate, but I'm going to go see if I can find someplace to clean up after all that."

"Sorry for the rough ride," Fred added. "But you've helped enormously for us to improve the thing."

"Yeah, yeah," Oliver muttered as he limped away.

Giving both of her brothers a look of utter exasperation, Ginny turned and hurried after Oliver. She caught up with him a few steps away and reached her arm around his waist, allowing him to lean on her as he favored his right knee.

"Good thing I'm not playing tomorrow," he said.

"I should have warned you. I have more stories than I can count about some of their experiments. You knew them in school. You should have known better."

"You're right. For some reason, I thought they'd mellowed over the years."

"No, they've just gotten better at it, is all," she said as she smiled.

He sat down on a bench and she took out her wand to cast healing charms on his injured knee and his bruised arm, and a few lacerations. She sat next to him and they chatted amiably for a few minutes.

"So, dinner tonight, we talk about what we are going to do about Francine?"

"Yes. I can't keep up the charade much longer. In the off season, and with you coaching, I think it would work out and not make too much press."

"You want to continue playing," he stated.

"I have to try. I love it too much. I just don't know how to get out of this mess."

Oliver put his arm around her and gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head. "It will be all right, Gin. We'll work it out eventually. I'm going to go get cleaned up, and we'll go to dinner, yeah?"

She nodded and smiled at him tiredly as he got up to leave. "Thanks, Oliver."

She sat for a few minutes, staring at the pitch as the twins and Camille left the area. She wanted to be happy for her brother and friend, but the weight of what she needed to do in her own life worried her. The sound of someone clearing their throat loudly made Ginny look up.

Draco was leaning against the wall of the pitch entrance, arms crossed, looking at her coldly. Her initial reaction was that she was happy to see him, but registering his anger, she felt confused.

"Draco, what are you doing here?" She realized, as soon as the words left her lips, that his presence there should have been obvious, nevertheless, she sat and stared at him stupidly after the words left her mouth.

“That's an odd question, since you said that you were too busy to be here today when I asked to join you."

He was angry, and she had a cold feeling that he had a right to be. She stared at him, fear settling over her. Dumbfounded, yes, that was the term she was looking for to describe her reaction but, putting a term to it didn't help her situation.

"You are an extremely good actress, Ginevra," he said, without waiting for her to respond.

Normally, she loved it when he said her name. He had always made her given name sound so smooth and formal, like honey. But now, something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

He continued, "It's only a morbid sense of curiosity that is keeping me here. I just want to know why you've been lying to me."

"What?" She felt the color drain from her face.

"You heard what I said. You said you would be working late. Imagine my surprise when I stopped by Tinkerton's office and learned that not only were you not working this afternoon, but that you haven't been there in months.”

“Oh, no,” was all she could say as her hand flew to her mouth.

He continued, his fury seeming to grow colder as she made no effort to deny his accusation. “Fortunately, your ex-coworkers seemed to know that you would be here, though they seemed to imply that you were with Camille."

He paced, somewhat dramatically, then turned to her. “I'm not stupid, Ginevra, but I have let you play me for a fool."

“I... I...” she started to say.

He looked at her, awaiting her answer, the expression on his face frozen and hard.

“I don't work at Tinkerton's anymore, that's true. I got a new job,” she admitted somewhat stupidly.

He said nothing.

“It was something I was planning to tell you about, but...” She didn't know how to say it. She paused, looking around frantically, as if the proper words would somehow appear in the air.

The long pause was apparently something he had no patience for, as he stood up and gave a hostile glance in the direction of the locker rooms where Oliver had recently gone.

He looked at her in disgust, the long pause settling between them like an almost physical barrier. Her fear kept her from saying anything to break the impasse.

He finally broke the silence, the fury on his features telling her that all her fears had come true. “Is that all you have to say? Goodbye, Ginevra." He turned and started walking away.

Realization dawned on her about the true source of his anger. He'd seen her with Oliver just now, his arm around her. He'd been jealous of Oliver since he'd seen the rose from him three months ago. She hadn't missed his occasional questions about her friend when she'd mentioned him over the summer.

If she let Draco leave like this, she knew she was never going to see him again. He'd never believe her. That was the moment that she knew, for certain, that this wasn't just a summer romance and that she really, truly would be heartbroken if she no longer had him in her life. It was time for her to confess the truth.

She got up and ran after him.

He was near the changing rooms when Ginny finally caught him. "Draco, please stop. Please."

He stopped, but continued to face the exit of the pitch, refusing to look at her and saying nothing.

She said the first thoughts that came to her, "I don't know what to say. You said we could talk about anything, and I need to explain. I need you to hear me out."

"There's nothing to explain. Now if you’ll excuse me," he said formally, as he began to step away.

"It's not what you are thinking!" she blurted out.

He finally turned to her and his gaze was emotionless. "What exactly am I thinking?"

"I don't know, but I'm pretty sure that it's not the truth, and if you're going to be angry with me, I'd at least like it to be for the right reasons."

It was that kind of ludicrous statement that had led him to fancy this odd little witch from the very beginning. Despite his better judgment, he decided to finish the argument, rather than walk away. If anything, it would be interesting, as everything about her seemed to be.

He pulled her into the changing room, so that their argument wouldn't be on public display.

"All right, Ginevra. I suggest you explain."

"I told you, I had to work. Most of my work is on weekends you know." This was true. She'd worked on the Falcons, and they did work on weekends. She didn't know why she didn't say the truth outright, and the half truth only angered him further.

"No, I don't know. I think we've already established that you aren't working for Tinkerton's right now, and haven't been there for the last two months."

"I can explain..." she started to say. "I sort of got hired for a different job, but... I couldn't tell you about it."

"Like hell you did," he snarled. "I told you that don't like being taken for a fool, Ginevra."

She cringed at his angry words. She'd been lying for so long that it had become habit. She was suddenly shocked to find that telling the truth was more difficult than she'd imagined. "I.... I'm not trying to do that," she said, feeling panic.

She had to start talking, but there was such a mess that she wasn't sure where to begin. Much of it had started before she'd begun her relationship with him. Worse, once he knew the truth, she was quite certain that she'd lose her other love, which was playing on the Falcons.

"Then, tell me!" The anger etched on his face seemed to tell her that he might be listening, but he would be anything but understanding.

She looked into his eyes, desperately searching for the right words. Her silence left him an opening to lead the conversation.

"Let's start with all the time you seem to be spending with Oliver Wood," he started.

'"There's nothing between me and Oliver. We're just friends. He's a friend of my brothers'."

"And the flowers I've seen you get from him?"

"The first was congratulations. And the second, yes, he asked me out, but I turned him down because I wasn't interested in him. I was only interested in seeing you.”

"Yes, you seem to be just thrilled to let the world know that you're seeing me. So thrilled that you have yet to come out in public with me for a simple Quidditch practice. Your excuses are getting rather weak, Weasley."

"It's not what you think, I swear. I'm not seeing anyone else."

"No, Ginevra, maybe you aren't but the truth of the matter is that you are too stuck on your high and mighty pedestal with St. Potter to be associated with the likes of me. Aren't you?"

Again, her heart dropped, uncertain of his logic, but sure that she'd left things far too long and allowed his imagination to run amok. "No! Draco, please, don't think that!"

"I don't want to hear it,” he responded. He started pacing back and forth in the small room, running his hand through his hair, and gave a bitter laugh. “I can't believe this. I can't believe that you've been lying to me all along. Here I am with the bad reputation, and yet … you know what the funny thing is? Ever since I met you this past spring, I've been nothing but completely honest with you."

She'd been caught, and something in her became just a little bit desperate. She wasn't going to get through this with half truths, and as is common with someone caught in a lie, she tried to at least deflect some of the blame.

"All right, you've been honest. Honest about using me to improve your reputation. Is that the only reason you even want me here?"

"Do not bring that into this. If I truly gave a crap about that, there are plenty of other witches out there that would be happy to fill that role. That's a low blow, Weasley, and you know it."

She started to cry. He was right, and she felt ashamed. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear."

Her tears had no effect on him, if anything, it seemed to inflame his temper again. "Swear to St. Potter. I don't care! You and your bloody family think you are so high and mighty, and the evil Malfoys are out to corrupt their innocent little girl. The irony of it is that you've been the one who's been lying and scheming right along. My mother accepted you as a daughter. Did you know that? Did you know how hard that was for her? My father actually apologized to you, which may not mean a lot to your kind, but it was like ripping out a piece of his soul! Apparently, you don't put any value into that either."

"I had a reason!"

"What could possibly have had you lying to me for all this time, Ginevra? What could possibly have been so important that you felt a burning need to humiliate me like this?"

She could barely speak, tears were running down her face freely and she was desperately looking into his eyes for the tiniest hint of understanding. There was none.

It was time for the charade to end.

"I'm Francine."

"You're what?"

"I am Francine Miller. I've been using a disguise and I fly on the Falcons every week. That's why I can't sit in the stands with you at the match. And that's why I've been away from working at Tinkertons for the last few months."

Well, at least it got his attention.

His voice dropped to an unusually calm tone of disbelief. "Why in Merlin's name would you do something like that?"

"It all started in June, before the ball. We had a lot of reasons, mostly it was to hide me from being a Weasley. Oliver thought that I'd be judged more fairly in the trials if I was more anonymous."

"Oliver," he growled.

Apparently, she became fully aware, he still harbored some jealously and suspicion over her relationship with the former Falcons Keeper.

She responded passionately, "Yes, Oliver. He and Fred and George have been friends for years. He wanted to work on some coaching skills with our team, and after a while encouraged me to go professional. I swear to you, he's only a friend."

"And after you made the team?"

"I had started seeing you," she said, her voice already becoming hoarse in desperation. "I was falling for you, and it didn't seem like a good time to bring it up. I didn't want you to think I was using you to secure my spot on the team. I mean, you had talked so much about propriety and how important the team was for your image...."

"That you didn't want it to come across that I was favoring you because of our relationship," he finished, sounding far more calm.

She nodded, feeling some sort of relief that he might understand. "And I was afraid that you might think that I was only seeing you because I wanted to stay on the team."

"You're good enough that it probably wouldn't have been a factor."

"I didn't want to risk it. I see how you are when you think someone is trying to take advantage of you. It was just easier, because everyone loved Frankie, and I didn't have to deal with the issues."

Issues. With a clarity born of anger, he suddenly realized that she truly did not trust him. She didn't see him as someone with whom she could share such a secret, and didn't trust him to do the right thing. It cut into him like a knife.

"And you didn't think, for three months, that there wouldn't be any issue around you living a double life?" His voice had hardened again. She didn't know how to continue and she saw his temper finally reach its limit.

"I don't think that's the whole reason, Weasley," he said calmly. Too calmly. She could tell that he was seething with anger.

"But it is, I swear."

He stopped her with a hard look.

Obviously, he'd been becoming more suspicious of her excuses over the last few weeks and, somehow, he had come to his own conclusions. She once again felt fear run through her.

He stood, and she saw a look on his face that she hadn't seen in years, and had profoundly believed that she'd never see again. He sneered, looking down his long, aristocratic nose at her, as if she was something foul that had stuck on his shoe.

"I'm sick of the lies, I'm sick of the deception, and I am completely, utterly sick of your filthy attitude that for some reason, because you sided with St. Potter, that you are somehow better than me. I've treated you extremely well, Ginevra. Obviously, it gave you some sort of opinion that you're better than what you came from. No more."

She felt her heart stick in her throat. He was dumping her. After all this, he was going to dump her, and she wanted to say anything to make him change his mind.

"Draco, no, please..."

"You'll play the match tomorrow, but it's your last game. As I told you before, I work very hard to maintain a reputation right now, and I can't have you scandalizing my team. For all I know, you've been sleeping with the whole lot of them."

The comment cut deeply. She knew he had only said it out of anger, but it hurt anyway. She was openly sobbing. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Draco, please! I am so sorry! I was going to figure out how to tell you after tomorrow's match."

He seemed to think that she was more upset about losing her spot on the team rather than the fact that she still had not addressed the issue of being willing to tell her family and make it public that they were seeing each other.

"Yes, think of your Quidditch career. Get out of my sight, Weasley, before I say or do something that I'll regret."

There was nothing more she could say. He'd shut down from her, and the cold bully she'd known so many years ago at school had returned. Her heart broke. She left the changing room — actually, stumbled was a better term — but he didn't look up from the spot on the floor he'd been focusing on.

Oliver Wood watched the crying girl leave and stepped out from the wall of lockers on the far side of the changing room.

Draco glared at him.

"You're lucky you still have a job right now, so I don't want to hear anything from you." Draco growled menacingly at the man he viewed as a competitor.

"She loves you, " Oliver responded, not knowing what else to say to the other man.

"Stuff it. You can have the little tart. I'm done with her."

"That really is exactly how it happened. She didn't mean any harm." Oliver felt a need to explain, having known Ginny's dilemma all along.

"You've been listening this whole time?"

"Didn't mean to, but there was no other way out from behind there without being seen."

"Get out, before I fire you too." With that, Draco turned away. Oliver walked sadly to the exit, hearing Draco pound his fist into one of the lockers.

Oliver swallowed his guilt. It was partly his fault, for encouraging Ginny to try out under an alias in the first place. He should have seen something like this coming. As he reached the door, he turned back, thinking there had to be something more he could say to the blond man sulking back in the room, but he held his tongue as he saw what appeared to be tears freely rolling down the other man's cheeks.

- x - x -

Ginny wandered for what seemed like hours before she felt calm enough to Apparate home. Once again, she had failed miserably in her attempt at a relationship, and she felt broken and hollow inside.

As she arrived at the Burrow, she was grateful that her parents had gone out for the evening. She wasn't looking forward to telling her mum about today's events. A part of her debated about keeping the entire fiasco quiet for a while, but keeping secrets had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She decided that it was time to stop that behavior. Nevertheless, it would be easier to give them the whole truth tomorrow, after the match.

Walking through the empty house, she started to sob again.

"Hey, sis, I didn't expect you home so early."

It was Fred. She looked up to see him descending the stairs and silently cursed the fact that she wasn't as alone as she'd hoped to be.

"I thought you were going to go out with George tonight," she said, as she turned away and pretended to be fascinated by the cover of Witch Weekly on the coffee table.

"Nah, he seemed to think that having me tag along was going to cramp his style. Can you believe it?"

She tried to chuckle, but the sob that she'd held in her throat seem to come out on its own.

Her lovable brother was by her side in an instant.

"Hey, sis, what's wrong?" he said, as he wrapped her up in a hug. She only cried harder.

It felt good, just to have her brother hold her as she released all her sorrow. Somewhere between hiccups and sniffles, she soaked his shirt with tears and told him about the whole miserable mess.

He even offered to find a way to sneak Draco a bunch of their less successful joke shop products.

"No, don't hex him. It's not his fault. It's mine. I'm the one who lied and hid the truth from him. He has every reason to be angry with me." It was far worse than that. Draco's accusations had been more than partially correct.

"He'll get over it, Gin. Just give him some time."

"Even if he did, it wouldn't work. I've heard his opinions, he wouldn't let me play on the team anyway. I'd have to choose one or the other, and I can't do that," she explained sadly.

They talked well into the evening. By the end of it all, her brother tucked her into bed, just like he'd done when she was a little girl. He kissed her on the forehead, and sat by her bedside until she fell asleep.

As she fell into her exhausted sleep, she knew she'd finally come to her decision.

- x - x -

When Molly and Arthur came home that night, they were surprised to find Fred donning his cloak in preparation to leave.

“Isn't it a bit late to be going out, son?” Arthur asked him.

“Just realized I left a potion brewing at the store and I need to add something to it before it explodes,” he replied almost smoothly. He was quite accustomed to telling his parents little white lies. He was grateful that he hadn't lost his touch over the years.

“All right, dear, try not to be too late,” Molly said, looking mildly concerned after he'd mentioned the possibility of an explosion. After a short pause where she obviously was looking to change the conversation, she asked, “Is Ginny home yet?”

“She's asleep. Seems like she had a bit of a long day,” Fred replied quickly, hoping his parents wouldn't wake her. He didn't want her to know that he was going out. If she suspected his motives, she'd likely hex him into next week.

His mother nodded as she shed her cloak and hung it up. “I'll let her be. I'm sure we'll get to talk in the morning. I'm a bit tired myself,” she said as she let out a small yawn.

“Don't wait up for me, Mum. I was thinking I might try to meet up with George after I'm done,” he lied again.

“No pranks, dear,” she said, as if she fully expected that it was the real reason he was going out in the first place.

He smiled, and moved out the door. He was partly responsible for the mess surrounding the creation of Francine, and now his baby sister was in tears as a result of it all. He was going to go to find the man responsible for his sister's tears, and make sure that he got the entire story, even if it took all night.

- x -

Francine arrived for her last Quidditch match early.

Last. It sounded so dreadfully final, but she had made her peace with that fact.

Her secret was out. There was no way that she could continue. This would be her last appearance on the Quidditch pitch. After a sleepless night where she considered his words in an endless cycle, she was certain that he would never want to see her again after this match. More importantly, she wanted to have enough dignity to leave gracefully.

Without a doubt, she knew that she would be replaced both on the team and in her relationship.

She couldn't fault him. She wanted to, but she knew that she had no one to blame but herself. She'd built so much on lies that she couldn't possibly ask for, nor expect, forgiveness.

So, she put on her disguise for the last time. This would be the last game that Francine Miller would ever play. Francine would retire from Quidditch after this game, never to be seen again. The team's publicist would likely fabricate some sort of press release stating that Francine had returned to the Americas to explain the Seeker's sudden disappearance. Ginny Weasley, on the other hand, would return to her stable, boring existence working for Ms. Tinkerton. At least Ginny hoped that her former employer would take her back. But that was a worry for another day.

Of course, she would still likely see him at some of her events. She dreaded having to interact with him, but she would have to manage that with professionalism when the time came. It wouldn't be easy, but she would do it.

She only hoped that she wouldn't have to be the one hired to plan his wedding. Of course, she was devious enough to come up with some sort of clever illness to avoid that particular job. She reasoned that she'd have some time to think about that, since he would have to find a new girlfriend first.

But that was also a thought for another day, as she entered the pitch, nodding to the coach as she passed, and he gave her a cursory nod in return. He would find out in the morning about her deception, and subsequent disqualification.

Time seemed to slow as she woodenly followed the pre-game rituals. She found herself simultaneously anticipating and dreading the start of the match. A couple of her teammates took note of her distraction, but she smiled and tried to put them at ease.

Finally, to her relief, formalities were exchanged among the team captains and she took to the air in her last match as Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons.

The warmth of the fall sun and the fresh breeze welcomed her as moved into the open sky, causing her to push aside her negative thoughts. As always, the feeling of the air rushing past her body caused her to revel in the feeling of joy and freedom. Flying demanded all her concentration and skill, giving her reason to focus only on her game plan. It was something she cherished, and she wanted nothing more than to leave her short career in Quidditch by flying her utmost best.

The match that day was hard fought right from the onset. Puddlemere wanted desperately to win, and Ginny used every bit of flying and acrobatic skill to rotate on her broom and dodge flying Bludgers, distracting the United's Chasers, while simultaneously hunting for the Snitch. It was a complex dance, and she used all of her abilities to perform it exceptionally well.

Almost two hours into the match, Ginny could feel that the exertion was beginning to wear on her, although she took some comfort in knowing that her opponents were likely tiring as well. It was a dangerous time during any match, where fatigue became a factor in each player's moves, and it was a time when injuries were most likely to occur. She tried to make her movements more efficient to save energy.

Finally, luck was on her side when she caught a glimpse of gold near her own team's goal posts, but the situation was far from ideal. She was at the far end of the field, flying high in an attempt to save her energy, and the other Seeker was low and hovering in the middle of the field. He would easily beat her to her target if he caught sight of her moving toward it from this distance.

Drawing from experience, she decided to use her distraction technique. She began to work toward the opposite end of the field by trying to draw a Beater away from a Falcon Chaser so that he could score a goal. Then, as the Quaffle moved toward her own goal, she moved with her team to remain unobtrusive. It was a painful process, trying to appear casual while simultaneously feeling the urge to begin an all-out pursuit. Still keeping her eye on both the elusive Snitch and the other Seeker, she closed in on her target in an agonizingly slow manner.

Suddenly, she caught the expression on the Seeker's face as he caught sight of the Snitch. She was still further away, but her strategy had left her path clear, while her opponent had two of her teammates in his path, Roger being one of them. She took off toward the snitch, urging every ounce of speed from her broom, and leveling her body close to the handle to reduce as much wind resistance as possible.

Roger caught sight of her mad dash, his experience giving him clear understanding of her intent, and managed to maneuver more solidly into the other Seeker's path. He was nearly knocked off his broom in the process, as the Puddlemere Seeker was forced to pull up to avoid him, the tail of his broom striking Roger's shoulder. She heard Marcus' taunting comment to Roger as she flew by, “If you had a real Seeker, you wouldn't have to sacrifice yourself like that!”

What did she ever see in that git?

The delay Roger provided was enough to give Ginny the advantage she needed and, moments later, the two Seekers raced neck and neck to the tiny, golden prize. It was a moment of pure adrenaline as she tried to actively plan how she might use her lighter weight and dexterity to her advantage. While she was gaining in speed, it wasn't quite enough to win the race. Mere moments before they reached the Snitch, she decided to use her momentum against her opponent. It was an all out gamble because, if her assumption was wrong, the game would surely be lost.

Flipping upside down, she rolled into a spiral, wrapping under her opponent's broom, the bottom of her broom nudging him away just enough for her to stay on the more direct course. To keep stable, she needed to release her hold on her own broom, hanging precariously by one hand and an ankle, the rest of her body extended in an all-out stretch toward the Snitch. She heard the Seeker utter a vicious curse, but that was all he could do, as her hand closed around the prize.

The moment that she finally felt the wings of the Snitch flutter in her palm was the moment that she began to relax, allowing herself to finally register the sound of the crowd in the stands. She was met with thundering cheers, and simultaneous boos, as the crowd realized the match had reached an incredible conclusion. The Falcons, the underdogs, had defeated their rivals in a stunning manner. Ginny glowed with the joy of the moment.

Her teammates flew up to meet her and escort her back to the stands, slapping her on the back and shouting various compliments, many of them rude. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and she quickly found herself grinning back at them as she realized the magnitude of her accomplishment.

As she slowly coasted back down to the stands, her joy was suddenly dampened as she remembered that this had been her last game. It also came with the knowledge that she'd never get to truly enjoy this moment of victory as herself but only as her alter ego. Once she left the disguise of Francine behind, she would be nothing but ordinary once again. It tore at her heart, and she willed herself to hide the emotion. She wouldn't spoil this moment for herself, nor for her teammates.

Worse, she would now go back to, once again, being alone.

He was there among that cheering crowd somewhere, and she found herself searching the stands for a glimpse of his platinum blond hair. She was forced to abandon the effort after a few moments, because she quickly realized that it was a hopeless task to find him among the hundreds there in the stands. Besides, she was terrified to see the look of disgust on his face if she did find him.

Tears sprung to her eyes as her thoughts drifted back to her ruined relationship.

Suddenly, she felt the Snitch that she still held tightly make a strange vibration. She looked down at the little device, wondering if something was somehow malfunctioning. Her intitial reaction was to ignore it but, suddenly, in addition to the vibration, it made a noise. An odd tinkling noise that sounded, oddly enough, like the dreaded giggling of those faeries that she detested so vehemently.

She pulled up, letting her teammates go ahead, so she could look at the malfunctioning little Snitch more closely. If it was going to do something harmful, she didn't want her teammates nearby. She had a moment of hope that maybe it was cursed in some way to kill her and end her miserable existence. It was a nice thought, but she figured that she couldn't possibly be quite so lucky.

As she stared at the Snitch, the noise coming from it started to sound almost musical, and she noticed markings begin to appear on the side.

“I LOVE YOU,” it said.

She gasped, staring at the thing in utter disbelief.

It was only years of training and reflexes that kept her from falling off her broom, because she felt every muscle in her body go limp.

She looked up, her eyes darting around the stands to see if she could see the person responsible for this oddity. She'd lived with two prankster brothers for too many years to not recognize a prank when she saw one, and her heart broke at the cruel irony of it. She reasoned that the culprit was probably one of Francine's adoring fans, or perhaps a teammate, and they had no idea how cruel their little joke was. She'd just broken up with the love of her life, and here she was getting fan mail, of all things, on the Snitch that would mark the end of her short but glorious career.

Her teammates had noticed her delay, and Roger appeared to be turning back toward her. None of them seemed to be looking at her with any anticipation, so she quickly eliminated any of her teammates as being the culprit. She tried to stop the onslaught of tears now pouring down her face, wondering if she could get away with telling them that she just got some dust in her eyes, as she slowly continued down toward the presentation stand.

The Minister of Magical Games was waiting for them, to present them with the Divisional Championship Plaque, and she was obligated to join her team for the celebration. As she approached the stage, she saw her coach, clapping her teammates on the back and grinning madly at her. For some reason, she hadn't been prepared to see the owner of the team standing next to him.

She tore her gaze away from him before she made a fool of herself, and glanced down at the little snitch again. The lettering had changed.

“I'M SORRY,” it said.

She looked back at him, her vision blurred from tears.

Unlike the rest of the team, he wasn't consumed in the exuberant celebration on the stage. In fact, he was completely ignoring the joyful mayhem. Instead, he stood there calmly, his attention focused solely on her as she approached cautiously. The look in his eyes was not what she'd expected. He looked contrite and hopeful while he glanced toward the Snitch then back to her face, or rather, the face of Francine Miller.

She stared back down at the Snitch that had professed its love to her, and then she saw one more line of text.

“FORGIVE ME?”

If this Snitch was really from him, as she was starting to suspect, she briefly wondered if it was slightly chilly in hell right about now. It had just appeared that he'd apologized.

She stared at the three lines emblazoned on the Snitch, then looked back to him, and he nodded, his expression openly begging for her answer.

She dismounted her broom and battled her way through her still celebrating teammates and coach to finally stand in front of him, holding up the Snitch.

“Is this from you?” Her voice was shaky, her tone was demanding. If it wasn't from him, if it was some sort of a joke, she was quite certain that her heart would shatter.

He nodded casually. “Clever, don't you think?”

She was confused. This was not what she'd expected from him. It certainly wasn't what she deserved. He'd been so very angry with her, and her mind tried to process his change in emotion. She suddenly realized that he almost appeared amused as he watched her emotions openly display across her face.

She had been prepared for many things, but not this. Finally, after pulling her thoughts together, she said, “You don't need to apologize, you know. I was wrong. I deserved everything you said to me yesterday, and worse.”

His mouth lifted into a lopsided smile. “Probably, but it has been brought to my attention that you had been planning to tell me the truth, and I should have been more willing to listen.”

For a moment, she was unable to speak. Finally, after she was able to find her mouth willing to move, her words were less than eloquent. “What?” she babbled. “I mean, who....”

“There were several,” he responded, as if he understood her meaning. “Your brother and my mother included.”

She looked down sheepishly, thinking of how she'd caused such a terrible mess, and he actually had the grace to be asking for forgiveness from her. “I truly am sorry,” she said, hoping he understood how earnest she was.

“Apology accepted,” he said, as the familiar, superior smirk teasingly came his features.

The same smirk that had once irritated every fiber of her being was now something that she found completely endearing. It was as if all the color had suddenly come back to a world that she'd only been seeing in shades of grey. The odd contraction in her chest suddenly released, and she tried to compose herself. Part of her wanted to throw her arms around him, but she needed some answers first.

“So,” she said, holding up the little Snitch. “What if the other Seeker caught it instead?”

“You're too good. He didn't stand a chance,” he stated smugly, his expression showing his pride in her abilities.

She smiled shyly at the compliment. “Oh, really?”

“Really. I had no doubts.” The intensity of his gaze boring into her. She felt herself shiver involuntarily.

“You don't think that there might be some controversy about this being tampered with?” she asked, referring to the altered Snitch.

“Nope. I had it approved before the game. Can't be risking any sort of controversy now, can we?”

She saddened at the remark, knowing that it pointed out her deception once again. It reminded her of her decision. She needed to be honest, and that meant that she would leave the deception, and Francine, behind her once and for all.

“Too bad you'll need a new Seeker next year,” she responded sadly.

“Why, are you thinking of quitting?”

She looked back up at him, her eyes going wide with realization. “You can't mean that I can stay? I thought I was fired?”

Her tone was desperate, hopeful and frightened all in the same breath. Did he intend to demand that she quit, or she could chose to continue to play and they would end their relationship? He'd been quite clear when they talked about this topic all those weeks ago that the two things were mutually exclusive. Her mind was trying to figure out what exactly was going on and the thought of forfeiting one for the other was simply not acceptable. She'd leave it all, just as she planned, rather than live half a life either way.

Roger finally came over, taking notice of the obviously charged atmosphere between the team owner and his star Seeker. Putting his arm casually around Ginny/Francine's shoulders, he smiled at her cheerfully. “Hey, mate, what's going on?”

Draco glared at the Captain, and Roger quickly released his hold on the little Seeker, looking quite surprised at the owner's reaction.

“You haven't answered my question,” Draco stated, ignoring Roger and staring pointedly at the little mousy-looking girl.

“Frankie, what's going on here?” Roger asked, once again drawing a glare from the owner.

“Roger, please stay out of this,” she said, turning to her friend. “It's about me quitting the team. I can't play with the Falcons anymore.”

“What?”

Tears came to her eyes once again, and she ignored Roger's question and looked back toward her lover. She couldn't be with him if he kept her from what she loved to do, even if it was for such a reason as simple as propriety.

“I have a conflict of interest,” she said, her voice becoming thick, looking at the team owner, although her words seemed to be directed toward Roger's question. “I can't play on the team because of an inappropriate personal relationship.”

“I'm selling the team,” Draco said flatly.

“But...” she found herself stammering. “But you love this team!”

“And now that they are winning, they are worth a great deal more than what I paid for them. It turned out to be a good investment,” he said with a look of smug confidence.

She stood there, gaping at him. He'd given up the team, so that she could be with him and continue to play. There was no choice for her to make.

“Close your mouth, Weasley, you look like a goldfish,” he said, smiling at her once again.

“Weasley?” Roger interrupted, looking back and forth between the two, still trying to figure out what was going on.

Draco looked over at him, as if finally noticing the Captain's presence. “Are you always this verbose?” He looked back at the girl in front of him. “I think I've had enough of the charade, Weasley, it's time for you to get the recognition you deserve. Change back.”

“But, what about...?”

“I've had enough of this. I won't have somebody else get the credit for the catch of the century when it rightly belongs to my girlfriend. Change. Back.”

His tone was commanding, and normally she would have spat something back at him, but there were times to argue, and times to simply concede. This particular time warranted the latter response. After all, she wanted the recognition for herself too.

By now, the team had gathered around, taking note of the odd conversation between the team owner and their plain-looking but talented Seeker. The girl looked around at all of them apologetically, then, staring straight into the eyes of the handsome blond man in front of her, she reluctantly took out her wand and uttered the charm.

She heard the gasps from the team around her as her dull brown hair lengthened and turned into thick tresses of red and gold. Her features softened, and her curves made her tailored Quidditch uniform start to feel rather tight across her chest.

“What the hell?” she heard James exclaim. “Who are you and what did you do to Frankie?” She slowly started to become aware that they were still standing on the podium in front of hundreds of fans, waiting for the Minister to present them with their trophy. The sounds of disbelief and gossip were quickly spreading through the crowd.

“There is no Francine Miller. There never was,” Draco said to the confused team. “Miss. Weasley here has been disguising herself all season.”

“But why?” someone asked.

“Later,” Draco insisted, snubbing the lot of them and turning back to Ginny. “Now, Miss. Weasley, I would really like my answer,” he said. His look was confident, arrogant, intense. He stared her straight in the eye, daring her to back down, and she found herself once again melting under the intensity of his gaze.

“I...”

He stepped closer, invading her personal space.

“I thought you didn't want to see me anymore,” she stammered.

He took another step, so close, but not quite yet touching. “I didn't think you'd run away after a simple disagreement.”

“I wasn't running away.”

“You knew damn well I wouldn't let you anyway.”

“I thought you were going to make me choose. I thought...”

“I would never do that to you. I would never try to make you change for me. That's not the kind of woman I fell in love with.”

A small sound came from her throat as she gasped her shock at the realization of what he'd said. Her mind processed his words furiously.

“Weasley.” He paused, watching her. “Ginny, you're looking like a fish again.”

She looked at him, feeling nothing but love for this man. She'd loved him before, she adored him now. He wanted her for who she was, not for who he could mold her to be. As she met his steady grey gaze, all she could do was utter a single word.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes to your question, of course,” she said, as her lips curled into a devilishly flirtatious grin.

He felt his own smile grow as he closed the remaining distance to his beautiful girlfriend, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. “Are you saying, my marvelously talented Seeker, that you will take me back?”

“You're selling me with the team, so, technically, I'm not your Seeker anymore.”

“It depends on what you're seeking, my dear,” he said, as his smirking lips came dangerously close to hers.

“I suppose you're right,” she said, her smile widening at the wicked thoughts that came to mind with his insinuation.

“I'm always right,” he said, deciding to end the conversation on a positive note as he closed the remaining distance to her lips and kissed her soundly.

- ~ -

It had been a pleasant winter. She and Draco did some traveling, enjoying warmer climates when she could get time off from her winter job at the caterer's. Now, April was once again upon them, and she was ready to start the new season as the starting Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons.

She couldn't help but think about the fact that, one year ago, she'd been at the season's kickoff party as a lowly staff member. This year, she was attending the same event as one of the invited players. Much like last year, she watched as the owners met to argue and discuss and wager on the upcoming season. Her date was her team's former owner and their unique situation had been a topic of discussion amongst the owners for the last few weeks.

They'd separated at the party shortly after the dinner, both being pulled into different discussions by friends and business acquaintances. Ginny finally broke away from yet another owner who had been attempting to woo her onto his team. She graciously slipped away and walked out toward the patio to get a breath of fresh air. To her relief, the only person to follow was her friend, and now coach, Oliver Wood.

They stood in the cool air, and Ginny took a moment to breathe deeply. It was nice to have a moment of quiet.

Oliver seemed to understand her need for a reprieve. “Don't worry, Gin, you get used to it.”

“I think that's what I miss most about being Francine,” she said. “I would go to these things, but didn't have to say much. And when I went home, I got to go back to being just Ginny, not the celebrity Quidditch player.”

Oliver just smiled at her. “The celebrity boyfriend, being the only woman on a team outside of the Harpies, and the whole Francine deception story don't help if you are looking to stay anonymous, you realize.”

“Thanks for putting it in perspective for me, Oliver.”

“Onto other topics, how are the plans for this summer's wedding coming along?”

Funny that he would bring up the wedding. She'd seen the look of envy on Oliver's face when George had announced his plans to marry Camille. It appeared that weddings were something of a sore spot for Oliver lately.

Over the years, Oliver had sacrificed his relationships in favor of his career in Quidditch. Ginny thought he was a good man and a good friend. She wondered if Draco hadn't already captured her attention if she would now be in a relationship with Oliver instead, but that opportunity was long past. Oliver had helped her succeed in her dream and she wanted nothing but the best for him. She hoped, now that he was no longer playing Quidditch, he would finally be able to settle down in a relationship.

“Camille asked me to be chief bridesmaid, since I'm responsible for her and George meeting in the first place. At least something good came out of all that mess last year,” she responded, trying not to sound too enthusiastic about the upcoming event. She had already asked Camille if she could wear the glorious gown she'd worn at the Malfoy ball; Camille had gleefully agreed.

“Oh, you say that as if you aren't deliriously happy with your life right now,” Oliver chided her.

“I don't like to brag.” She smiled. In truth, she was deliriously happy. She felt guilty because it almost didn't seem fair that she have so much right now. She almost felt that her bubble would burst at some point, and being modest seemed to help keep herself grounded.

She looked out over the patio. One year ago, she had stood in that same location, swatting faeries and cursing the very idea of romance. She couldn't believe how much things had changed in such a short time.

This year, the patio looked much the same as last. The dessert table and champagne fountain were placed in the same spot, and Ginny saw one of her former co-workers, a nice girl named Deborah, standing guard over the table, much like Ginny once did.

They both watched as the pretty blonde cursed and swatted at faeries as the pesky creatures repeated their mischievous antics of stealing food and harassing the poor girl who was stuck trying to salvage the situation. The look of disgust on Deborah's face was priceless as she plucked one soggy creature from the champagne in which it had started swimming.

She and Oliver exchanged an amused look. The picture really was quite entertaining. Then, as Ginny looked back at Oliver, she caught him looking longingly at the girl, obviously intrigued. Ginny now understood why Draco had felt compelled to go over to talk to her that fateful night last year. Even she had to admit that the sight simply begged for attention.

“You should go talk to her. I worked with her for a while and I know she's quite nice,” she suggested.

Oliver looked at her speculatively. “Ginny, are you trying to set me up?”

“No, just offering a little encouragement. You're drooling,” she responded, laughing as a particularly nasty curse was uttered by the girl, followed by the sound of a smack as she made contact with one of the nuisances.

He smiled back. “You are evil, Ginny, but I think you are right. I think I'll get a piece of cake.” He grinned.

She fondly watched him walk over to the table before turning to go back inside when suddenly, something that felt like a small stone struck her in the head.

“Ouch!” she yelped, turning to look for the source of the attack. She assumed some of the faeries from last year must have remembered her and were attempting some sort of payback. She'd just started to scan the area when Camille came into view taking note of Ginny holding her hand over the bump now forming on her head.

“Oh, did that thing get you too? It's worse than the faeries.”

Ginny lifted an eyebrow in question. “What is it?”

“Somebody let loose some sort of cursed Snitch. It's been smacking everyone on the staff for the last ten minutes. I've been trying to catch the foolish thing, but I'm no Seeker.”

Ginny smiled at the hint, and being in a particularly good mood, it wasn't hard for her to accept her friend's request. “Well, fortunately you have one that's soon to be your sister-in-law,” Ginny offered.

“I was hoping you'd say something like that. Do you think you could get it for me? If I didn't know better, I'd think that George and Fred were behind this. It just seems like their style.”

“It does, doesn't it? Makes me wonder if it's something new they are selling in the shop... anyway, I'll let you know when I've got it.”

“Thanks,” Camille said gratefully, as she trekked back inside to attend to other matters.

With that, Ginny wandered off, trying to discern the fluttering gold of the Snitch from the glowing faeries hovering among the shrubs. Catching sight of the pesky object, she followed it down the stone path into the elegantly manicured garden. It didn't take her long to determine that it was particularly elusive, seeming to deliberately taunt her while remaining just out of reach each time she jumped to catch it.

She finally swore at the thing. She was in a dress and heels, hardly appropriate attire for playing with an errant Snitch. But she owed Camille far too many favors, not the least of which was being willing to marry one of her prankster brothers. So, she battled onward.

After slightly twisting her ankle, she came up with a new tactic. The little Snitch seemed to be fond of sneak attacks on unaware victims, so she pretended to lose interest in it, while still keeping conscious of its glimmer in her peripheral vision. The tactic worked, as it started to buzz in toward her for another hit on her head. During the last second, she reached up with her left hand and snatched the little beastie out of the air.

“Aha! Got you!” she declared triumphantly. It flapped its little wings quite indignantly. She laughed. Now that the game was over and she'd won, she found the moment to be quite fun.

She sat down on a bench, holding the Snitch, and watched as the faeries glowed all around. She'd become quite fond of the things she'd once called harbingers of romantic doom. As she watched them, she thought back to how one year ago, these same faeries had made Draco look so angelic with their enchanted glow. She thought back on her first kiss from him, among the faeries in the Malfoys' garden, and she thought now of how, hopefully, Oliver was having a wonderful moment of his own with Deborah.

Perhaps they weren't so evil after all. It made her smile.

The Snitch once again started to flutter in her grasp, and it seemed to be growing warm, which made her just a tad suspicious. She tore her gaze away from the faeries to look at it, and noticed that it was glowing with a message.

I LOVE YOU.

She smiled. There was only one person responsible, she was now sure. For the first time, she didn't jump when she heard the familiar drawl in her ear, because this time she was expecting it.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said gently, as his arms wrapped around her from behind.

“Up to playing jokes now, are you?”

“Fred gave it to me.”

“I figured as much. My brothers are a bad influence on you. I think I liked it better when you all hated each other.”

“I needed a way to get you out here alone.”

“All you had to do was ask, you know. Besides, how could you be so sure it would be me to come fetch it?”

“First, it was much more fun this way, and second, I know you too well,” he said, moving around in front of her.

“That you do,” she agreed. “So, how do you feel not owning the team anymore?”

“Actually, I quite like it. That bunch is a total bore. I didn't realize how much so until I was pulled into a twenty minute conversation with Sullivan about changing the regulation Bludger weight. It's much more fun being here with the most popular and beautiful player in the league.”

“I suppose I should thank you, since you managed to pull me away from all that boring chatter as well,” she added.

“Well, I actually had plans for you, love.”

“Oh really?”

He knelt in front of her, taking her hands and pulling her into a long, slow kiss, and she savored it. As they finally pulled apart, the faeries once again hovered near him, making his pale hair reflect their glow. Last year, at that same sight, she'd thought he looked angelic; now, she knew that he was. The light made his handsome features all the more beautiful and she sighed in contented happiness.

“Draco, maybe we should take this elsewhere...” As she looked up the path to see if anyone from the party might wander down the path to see them acting like randy teenagers.

“In a bit,” he said, still kneeling in front of her. “I don't want to leave the faeries just yet. I'm rather fond of them.”

“You and those faeries. I swear....”

“Actually, I do recall you swearing quite vividly at them last time we were here.”

She rolled her eyes. “I think some of them may harbor some animosity. They seem to be doing even more horrible things to the desserts than they did last year.”

He chuckled warmly. “Well, they like me more than enough for the both of us. And I don't think that they're the vengeful types.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because, they're doing me a favor,” he informed her, lifting his chin slightly and looking just the slightest bit smug.

She smiled, enjoying his playful demeanor. “And dare I ask what kind of favor one would ask of a faerie?”

His answering smile seemed to imply that he'd been waiting for her to ask such a question. “Hold out your hand,” he said simply.

She looked at him oddly, but she trusted him completely and held her right hand out, looking about for whatever might happen.

Almost immediately, three golden faeries flew by and she felt something drop into her hand. She looked down and saw... a piece of strawberry cake.

Draco stared at the treat in disbelief, then looked up at her to see the confusion and amusement in her eyes. His mouth twitched, as she saw him considering his next action, because this was obviously not the outcome he'd expected. He took the dessert, placed it aside, then looked about at the dozen or so giggling faeries.

“All right, very funny,” he spoke to the air in general. “Can we try this again please?” More of the light, tinkling giggles met his half-hearted glare. “I guess they do hold a grudge,” he muttered.

Ginny pursed her lips in an effort to keep from laughing and, once again, obediently held out her hand. This time, the three golden creatures flittered by and dropped another item onto her open hand. This time, she looked down to see a ring. Her gaze met his and she only had a question in her eyes.

“Will you marry me, Ginevra?”

She'd known she was happy before this. She'd been happy for months. He'd given her love, companionship, friendship, and most of all, support in helping her to live her dreams. He was challenging, intelligent and charismatic. The fact that he was dead sexy was simply the icing on the proverbial cake. Of course, she had to deal with his ego, since he was so darned perfect and he knew it, but that was what made it fun to be with him.

Yes, she was happy before, but now, she felt that she was about to burst with joy.

She looked into his intense gaze, and found she couldn't speak. All she could do was nod. The ring was all but forgotten as he leaned in to kiss her again, and she found herself melting into his embrace just like she did for that first kiss almost a year ago. She would never tire of that, she was quite certain.

As they broke apart and stood among the faeries, now all doubly aglow with shared happiness in the moment. She suddenly understood why the things were so closely associated with romance. It was because the faeries enjoyed sharing in the love and joy of those around them. They took her feelings of happiness and reflected them back tenfold. She wanted them around. Always.

“You realize, that we'll have to have an evening wedding, so the faeries will be out, yeah?” he asked.

“I'll make sure that we have a separate dessert table, set up just for them,” she agreed.