A/N: Thank you to ProudToBeSlytherin for the beta! :)

"What are you doing here?" they both asked simultaneously.

The pair looked at each other, four eyes narrowing into thin, angry slits.

They were both fresh-faced from their seventh years of school and anxious to move on with their lives, though they each had their own individual motivations as for why. She was the lone female wolf in a large pack of males, and though she was extremely capable in her own right, the last thing she wanted was to fail or to disappoint her family by not living up to expectations. She had no interest whatsoever in pursuing the type job she was going to be working for the summer for the remainder of her professional life, but she needed to be taken seriously, and this was the only way that she could see to making that possible.

He, on the other hand, had everything to prove, and he needed to prove it to nearly every person in his life. Although a few years earlier he had seemingly had everything he could have possibly wanted in the world, at present his circumstances were very different. Through a series of bad choices, bad situations, and bad people that he had encountered, he had well and truly fallen from grace. But he was working toward absolution, and after going back to finish his final year of school following the Battle of Hogwarts, he had finally got his opportunity.

What was interesting, though, was that both of their very unique lots in life had brought them to the very same place at the very same time.

"I'm an intern for the Minister," she said indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot like a petulant child. "Why are you here?"

"I'm also an intern for the Minister," he snapped.

"Ah, wonderful!" said a pleasant, booming voice from coming from behind them. "I see you two have met." Kingsley Shacklebolt placed one hand on each of their backs. "Draco, Ginny, the two of you will both be working for me this summer. Together," he added for emphasis.

Ginny sat at her desk, pretending to look busy as she worked on a crossword puzzle, one leg bent and tucked beneath her while the other tapped a steady, obnoxious rhythm on the floor. She could feel his eyes burning a hole in the back of her head, but she pointedly ignored him. Through their first week of working together, the pair had done very little in the way of communicating. The job had simply not required them to interact much, as they had been mainly doing grunt and gopher work, responding to the Minister's owls, and sending owls back to his Ministry contacts.

But on this day, they had been given an assignment that they would be working on for the remainder of the summer. They were to begin arranging the Wizengamot court schedule and subsequently owling all of those who were then scheduled to appear or to testify notice of their respective dates and times. In addition, they would attend the trials as two of his scribes, writing out full, detailed reports for the Minister. It was a big job, as the Final Battle at Hogwarts had just ended the previous summer, and there were dozens of alleged Death Eaters who had survived the battle and needed to be tried in court.

The problem, of course, was that Ginny and Draco simply did not know how to cooperate with one another.

"You don't suppose we should get to work, do you?" Draco asked, huffing impatiently.

"I've done some work already," Ginny said, not bothering to glance up from her book.

"Really?" he challenged. "The schedule is all ready to go back to Kingsley? The owls have all been typed?"

"Of course not," she answered nonchalantly. "I finished the schedule for next week. Now I'm taking a break."

He sighed as he got up from his desk and walked to hers. Smacking his hand on the surface to grab her attention, he leaned over, his masculine form towering easily over hers. "Weasley, you may have gotten this internship because your family basically runs the Ministry these days, but I had to work hard for a spot, and I would rather not lose it because some tart can't be bothered to quit playing with silly word puzzles."

Unaffected by his closeness, Ginny closed her book and set it down before standing up, her eyes meeting his. "It's funny, isn't it?" she said, looking him down without even a hint of fear at his obvious attempt at intimidating her. "A few years ago, this would have been just the opposite. You getting a job because of your father while us Weasleys get spit on because we haven't got the money you had."

Draco made a fist, the muscles in his forearm tensing. "You stop that right now, Weasley. You have no business talking about my family."

"Oh no?" she challenged, her voice laced with dry, humorless laughter. "You spent years talking about my family. About how poor we were and how rich and powerful your father was. Emphasis, of course, on was..."

"You filthy little…"

"Ah, ah, ah, Mr. Malfoy," Ginny chided coldly. "You had better watch it, or else I'll schedule your father's court date for a time when you're unable to attend. Work obligations and all." Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "But then again, I do want to go. Wouldn't want to miss the trial of the man who nearly killed me when I was eleven."

Unable to think of a clever retort just then, Draco merely sneered before returning to his desk and attempting to get some of the scheduling done for his half, but his ability to concentrate was eluding him. On the surface, he hated that some silly little blood traitor had anything bad to say about his father. He had been raised to know that he and his family were better than she and hers, and he couldn't stand the thought that she'd had the audacity to criticize him.

But deep down, he also recognized the niggling little thought that maybe - just maybe - she had a point.

"Is it your day or mine to sit in on the hearings?"

Ginny glanced up from her crossword puzzle. "Did you say something?"

Draco gave off an exasperated huff. "Sweet Circe, do you ever pay attention to the world around you, or are you just constantly lost in your own little cuckoo's nest?"

She rolled her eyes in irritation. "Did it ever occur to you that you're the only one I ignore?"

"It didn't," he admitted, "although I feel like that has a lot to do with the fact that I try not to think about you at all."

She smiled sardonically. "Such statements imply that you have a brain to think with."

Draco's lips quirked into a smile for the tiniest of seconds, but of course she was too busy being irritated with him to notice that trace of amusement. In truth, over the first four weeks of their internship, they had barely spoken a word to each other that hadn't been mean and hurtful or laced with sarcasm, but he had found that he had enjoyed it. He enjoyed every second of it, in fact. It was the only part of his day that seemed normal to him - arguing with a Weasley - and it was simply the highlight of his day.

While he had been lost in thought, Ginny had turned back around in her chair and was once again focused on her puzzle. He leaned in close over her shoulder, watching as she had begun pencilling in a six-letter word in a space for five.

"I can tell you right now," he whispered, his lips so close to her ear that she could undoubtedly feel the warmth of his breath on the sensitive skin of her neck, "that's not going to fit."

By the time she had opened her mouth to respond, he had already moved away from her, and with a roll of her eyes, she continued her slacking off.

It was an important morning, and it was the first time since he had gotten his internship that he had entered the Ministry with a purpose other than his internship.

Since the Final Battle, Draco had not been able to see his father. Lucius had been immediately apprehended with the rest of the Death Eaters who had survived, and seeing as though visitors were not allowed in Azkaban, he had not had the chance. And though he had not said a word to his mother or to anyone else about how he was feeling, the whole situation was eating him up from the inside out. He couldn't decide if he was more worried about his father rotting away in a prison cell or if he was more concerned about having to see him again after an entire year.

Draco's eyes scanned the courtroom as soon as he entered. There were about a dozen reporters with giant, flash-bulb cameras, just waiting to get the first glance at the fallen aristocrat. But there were also plenty of familiar faces. His mother, tissue in hand to suppress her sniffling, was sitting in the front row next to his Aunt Andromeda. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were also there, huddled together a few rows back.

And Ginny was there, too.

He had thought, of course, that she had been bluffing when she had said she would be attending the trial. Briefly, he wondered if she was there as a scribe for the Minister, but the distinct lack of parchment and quill told him that she was off the clock.

With a hard swallow, he began walking down the stairs. For a moment, he considered sitting with his mother and aunt, but he knew well enough how important it was for him to keep it together during this trial - for sake of the press as well as for his own dignity, which was truly all he had left.

His feet brought him three rows from the back, right beside a feisty redhead he knew.

She looked up as she heard the sound of his footsteps. "Draco," she said by way of greeting, surprise evident in her voice.

"Fancy meeting you here," he answered back lightly.

Her cheeks reddened slightly. "I - I had to be here."

Draco nodded in understanding. Not that he understood her reasons for needing to be there, exactly, but he did understand the idea of doing something because in your heart you know you need to. It was quite obvious to him that she was not there for amusement. Had she been there for giggles, she would have been sitting with her brother and his friends. But she wasn't. She was alone.

"Mind if I sit with you?"

Ginny shook her head and scooted herself to the side to make room for him.

Wordlessly, they sat together. The silence between them was not entirely comfortable, but it wasn't completely awkward, either. He was not terribly concerned with her as they waited. Insead, and quite understandably so, he was more worried about his father. Or more accurately, how he was going to react to seeing his father. He knew well enough that he would not cry - Malfoy men don't cry, and if they do, they certainly don't in public. But aside from that, he didn't know. He truly did not know what was appropriate.

A deafening silence consumed the courtroom as the doors opened with a loud

Draco's eyes shot to the entrance, to the sight of a shackled Lucius Malfoy being escorted into the room. His stomach dropped painfully and all of the color drained from his already paper-white skin. His heart had begun racing, and his mind swelled with thoughts - of concern, of hatred, of frustration, of guilt - and he could feel the sweat beading at the back of his neck.

But then it all stopped as he felt a small hand ease its way into his, their fingers threading as she squeezed his reassuringly.

He looked at her - cold grey eyes meeting her warm brown ones that were wide with emotions he could not even begin to read - and he nodded appreciatively. It was the first time in a long time that he had needed a friend, and she was the last person he would have ever thought would have been there. But she was there, and in an odd way, it was the only thing in that moment that made any sense to him.

A few more weeks came and went, and though his father was not sent to prison, the backlash from the press was brutal and Draco was not quite sure how to act or to feel about any of it. Desperately, he wanted to stay stone faced and pretend that he was completely unaffected by any of it, but when Ginny Weasley was around, it just wasn't something that was possible for him to do.

She had suddenly begun spending much less time working on silly word puzzles and much more time being an annoying overachiever.

"Here's the report Kingsley asked for," she said, setting a stack of parchments on the lunch table as she sat on the bench beside him, one leg on either side of the bench so that she was angled towards him rather than facing front. "I proofread it and then re-typed your work. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" he echoed, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Why didn't you take a lunch break like the rest of us?"

Ginny shrugged, her eyes wandering anywhere that was away from his. "Not hungry."

"Bollocks. You're a Weasley, and I know from experience that Weasleys are always hungry."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "That's Ron Weasley that you're referring to. I, on the other hand, eat like a bird."

"My arse you do," he said as he laughed goodnaturedly. "Just last week I watched you eat an entire chocolate cake."

"It was my time of the month," Ginny said defensively.

Rather than acting grossed out, Draco rolled his eyes. "It's irrelevant." His face sobered. "Stop feeling sorry for me, Ginny. I don't need or want your pity."

Although his words were sincere and not at all harsh, Ginny looked away in embarrassment at having had her intentions revealed. "Draco, I…"

"No." He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Let me get back to normal, all right? I'm not a baby, and if I am, I'm not yours to be responsible for."

"Of course you're not. But it's okay - normal, even - to be sad about this. Or concerned. Maybe concerned is a better word for it because, you know, your father is home now, and that's not particularly sad, but it's upsetting to not know what's going to happen next, and…"

He cut her off by placing a large hand over her mouth. "Ginny," he said slowly and not unkindly, "do shut up."

She poked him in the side playfully before getting up from the table and returning to work.

"Good morning, Draco," Ginny said with a smile in her voice as she set her purse down at her desk. "I brought you some breakfast."

He raised one eyebrow slowly as he turned in his chair to look at her. She had already turned her back to him, so she could not see the confused expression he was shooting at her. Ever since his father's trial, Ginny had been acting differently towards him - nicer - and he was not completely sure how he felt about the change.

"Here," she said, handing him a to-go container of food as she sat beside him. "I made these myself. Cinnamon buns. My mum's recipe. I've always thought…"

"For the love of Merlin, stop it."

She flinched at his words. "What?"

He sighed, running his hands over his face in exasperation. "Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do here, I guess, but whether you realize it or not, I am actually not your child."

Ginny shook her head. "I wasn't… I mean, I don't - I didn't -"

"Give me some credit, will you?" Draco spat, more anger in his voice than he really meant for there to be. "You went from hating the mere sight of me and refusing to do any kind of work around here to bringing me bloody homemade cinnamon buns and doing all of my work before I even have the chance to." He stood up purposefully. "I'm fine, Weasley. My father is a free man and I'm beside myself with giddiness, all right? I actually enjoy the work here. You doing it for me just makes me irritable. And you know what? I've already got one doting mother. I don't need your tit to suck on, too."

She bit her lip as she turned her face away from him, not wanting her hurt feelings to show. "Draco -"

"Don't," he snapped. "Call me Malfoy. It has always been Malfoy."

"But -"

"I'm going home," he said, turning around abruptly. "Tell Kingsley I'm sick."

Once he was gone, she turned her head to look at his now empty chair. He had taken the cinnamon buns with him.

She had not been to Malfoy Manor before, not even during the war. She had heard stories from Harry and Ron and Hermione about it, about the ancient home that made a person's body turn cold as soon as they walked through the front doors, about all of the evil that the place had held within its walls for generations. But as she stood before the intimidating estate, she found that she felt none of that. There was no overwhelmingly evil sensation overtaking her, and she certainly was not frightened by anything she saw around her.

Three times she tapped the large, brass knocker against the door, and as she waited, she took the opportunity to look around the place. There was a beautiful garden and large, towering gates to ward off intruders. The stone path that she had walked had not even a single cracked stone, nor the tiniest trace of dirt. The lawn was pristine and it brightened up the overall picture of the otherwise gloomy exterior of the mansion. It looked like a home - nothing more or less.

The door opened, and Ginny was surprised to find that Draco, himself, had come to greet her.

"I told you I was taking the day off," he said in lieu of greeting. "You can't just come around here for no reason. My parents -"

"Right, I know," she said, wrapping her arms around herself. "I just came by to apologize."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, leaning his body against the doorframe. "What?"

"I'm… sorry," she repeated.

"I told you before that I don't want your pity."

"This isn't pity. This is a peace offering. We both work for the Minister, and it'll be easier to get through the summer if we're not fighting constantly."

For a moment, Draco did not move or say a word - he just looked off into space - but then he quickly shut the door behind him and took Ginny by the elbow, leading her down the cobblestone path that lead deeper on to the Malfoy property. She wasn't entirely sure why, but she didn't bother trying to get him to relent his grip. Instead, she followed along willingly as he dragged her along.

He gave her a somewhat gentle shove once they reached a clearing - not hurting her, only briefly knocking her off balance.

"For the last time, Weasley," he began slowly through gritted teeth, "I don't want your pity. I want things to go back to normal."

"Normal?" she repeated, eyes gaping with disbelief. "You want us to fight all the time, argue about everything, hate each other? Because I don't think I can do that anymore."

"Of course not."

"Now I'm really confused."

Draco ran his hands over his face. "I don't hate you. I never did."

She cocked her head to the side as she looked at him intently. "What did you just say?"

"Merlin, you sure are thick."

Ginny pointedly ignored his remark. "How could you possibly say you have never hated me? For eighteen years you've hated the idea of me, and for the last seven, you've hated me personally." She threw her hands in the air in frustration. "You know what? I give up. I give up completely. I wanted to be nice and get along, but you obviously don't know what it means to have any kind of real -"

Her statement was cut off as he briefly took three steps forward, cupped her face in his hands, and pressed his lips against hers. For a moment, she didn't know how to react - or even if she should react - but then her tensed body started to relax against him. Her hands gripped his shoulders, fingers pulling at his sleeves as she fought and failed to keep his kiss from overtaking her.

He broke away with a gasp, chest heaving slightly. His lips were pink and swollen and satisfied. "I told you, I don't hate you."

"Then… why?"

He kissed her again, briefly this time, his fingers threading their way behind her head and into her soft waves of red hair. "Because arguing with you, picking on you, trading insults… it's the most alive I've felt in a long time. It's the most normal my life has been since…"

"And 'giving you my tit to suck on,' as you so eloquently put it…"

"Mmm," he laughed, leaning in for another quick kiss, "poor choice of wording, I think. Given the right circumstances…"

She smacked his arm playfully.

"You ready to go back to work?" he asked, resting his forehead against hers.

"I think we can wait a few more minutes," she said with a mischievous grin, "don't you?"