Author's Notes:
The world and characters of this fic belongs to JK Rowling. The plot, title and some lines are a rip-off of the Howard Hawks' movie "His Girl Friday". Yes, it's Draco as Cary Grant, and why not? Many thanks to mrsFelton88 for her beta.
This note got lost as I posted the first chapter - I apologize, and it's there now. And I would like to thank everyone who left me reviews on chapter one!
*
Draco Malfoy was very tight-fisted with the Prophet's money, but he had always made sure Ginny ate in style. So she set out for Chez Alphonse, thinking of lobster with her Firewhisky, but after a few steps alone she discovered that the men had disappeared into the Leaky Cauldron! Ginny pressed her lips together, and retraced her footsteps. She nearly collided with Malfoy in the doorway. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her.
"There you are! Thought we'd lost you."
"I was thinking Alphonse, not the Leaky Cauldron!"
"Well, I can't help you there, I'm afraid. The paper can't afford lobster and Firewhisky."
"No, but you can!"
"Ah, but this is for an article. About the proprieties of gillyweed."
"You..!"
"Ginny? Everything all right?"
"Yes, darling, we're coming. Just clearing up a small matter about the food. Be sure to order steak! Malfoy's paying!" She sailed past Malfoy, her nose in the air.
*
The Leaky's dining-room was not too crowded that day – they managed a decent table in a corner. Ginny sat on the left, and before Neville could seat himself beside her, Draco claimed the chair.
"You won't mind, I know," he said, "I like to have my back to a wall. Old War thing. I'm sure you have some of those hang-ups yourself, eh?"
"Well, not really," said Neville, "but I do know what you mean. I remember-"
"Let's not discuss the War," said Ginny, who had far too many memories of it. Too many memories of Draco Malfoy and herself, during the War, to be sure.
"Ah, I remember one night here, sitting just like this, before the Burning of Azkaban – must have been the night before. Ginny, you sat on my left, wearing that little number- ow!"
He bent down to nurse the foot she had dug a sharp heel into. Old Tom came up to their table.
"What'll you have?" He squinted at Ginny. "Oh, it's the Weasley miss, innit? Been a while."
"Why, yes it has. I've been to the Bahamas." Ginny smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at Tom. "And now I have a craving for lobster and Firewhisky, Tom."
"Or how about Butterbeer and chips?" said Malfoy.
"Or how about lobster, and lots of it."
"I'll get you lobster, Miss."
"We'll have the shepherd's pie, won't we, Longbottom?"
"Uhm, sure."
"Food for real men."
"Cheap, too," said Ginny. She lit a cigarette, and then lit one for Malfoy. He blew a smoke ring at her, shaped like a heart. She frowned.
"So, Gin, what'll you do in Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch?"
"Oh, I'm sure we'll come up with something."
Neville laughed. Now it was Draco's turn to frown.
"Well, I have to tell you, Longbottom, you're stealing my best reporter. No one can cover a criminal case like our Gin."
"Oh, I know. But Ginny wants a home, and children, and I can give her that."
"That's right, darling. No more late nights staking out the Ministry."
"Come down from the War high, have we?"
"Maybe I have. Or maybe it was just living in a flat without curtains that did it."
Draco turned to Neville.
"And what do you do, in Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch?"
"Oh, I'm into experimental small-scale farming. Ever heard of Protector Potatoes? Or Killer Cabbage? Hugely popular now, what with the random Death Eaters still running around the countryside. They can sense Dark Magic from a mile off!"
"No, really? And here I always relied on my old wand – oww! I mean, that sounds dead interesting."
"We have a couple of unicorns too."
"Unicorns? Why, I remember my Father always wanted to get his hands on a pair of unicorns... Oww! Ginevra!"
"No one wants to hear stories about your father."
"You have a point there. So what's up with the unicorns, anyway? Are you thinking Ginny could take care of them? Because I can assure you, whatever Ginny is, she's no-"
"Oww!"
"I'm sorry Tom! My foot must've slipped!"
"Thass' all right, Miss. I can live with just the one foot. After all, I have no teeth, what's a foot or two? As long as I have me hands to serve..."
"That's right, Tom, you're a gillyweed smoker, aren't you?" Malfoy interrupted.
"What a man may choose to smoke in his spare time is his own business, Mister Malfoy! I don't hold with what you print in that paper of yours, no I don’t!"
"Ha! Here's someone who doesn't think The Prophet should be used for political purposes!" crowed Ginny.
"It's always been used for political purposes! Only now it's my political purposes and not the Ministry's!"
"Well, I don't care," said Tom, stunning them with his sudden turnabout, "I buy The Magical Times, on account of the Page Five girls, you see. Begging your pardon, Miss."
"Oh, go away, Tom. You're not helping," said Draco. "And the food’s getting cold."
"I thought you wanted to discuss gillyweed with Neville."
"Sure I do. Gillyweed or unicorns. Aren't they almost extinct, anyway?"
"Yes, that's right," said Neville. "I'm the Chairman of the Unicorn Protection Society, or UPS, and we're raising money to re-introduce the breed into the countryside. Especially Wales, as it's one of their native habitats."
"Sounds expensive."
"It is! But my Great Uncle Algie has left us a small stipend, and my Gran's friends are quite formidable at raising Galleons."
"Fascinating. I can really see Ginny... Don't put that foot down if you want to keep it, Weasley! But when do you leave for Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch? Are you to 'marry in haste'?"
"If you finish that quote, Malfoy..."
"We're taking the Knight Bus just after lunch," said Neville. "I'd love to go by broom but Gran, well, she’s getting a bit old for that..."
"I see..." Draco suddenly moved his hand and managed to overset Neville's bottle of Butterbeer. It fell into his lap. Everyone exclaimed and Ginny pulled out her wand.
"Here, let me...!"
"No, no, I'll have Tom fix me up, be right back." Malfoy strode from the table.
"That’s odd," murmured Ginny. "He’s never been clumsy..."
"I quite like him, Gin. These days, he’s a charmer."
"Sure he is, it's in his family. His father was a snake."
*
Draco cleaned himself up with his wand, and leaned over the counter towards Tom.
"Do me a favour, will you? Pretend I've been owled."
"Yeah? What'll I get out of it?"
"A Galleon?"
"Ha! Make it five, and Bob’s your uncle."
"Dammit, I'm a starving reporter!"
"What's your wife doing eating lobster if you're so poor?"
"I'd like to see you tell Ginny Weasley she can't have any lobster!"
"Your own fault for spoiling her, innit?"
"What do you know?"
"I've seen her when she was a little girl, running about with Harry Potter and only eating a ham sandwich all day, and be grateful for it!"
"Yeah, well, I prefer her well fed, thanks very much. Just come get me in a minute," Draco snarled, and walked back to the table.
Ginny and Longbottom were holding hands, looking awfully mushy. Draco would have liked to take Ginny by her shoulders and shake some sense into her, but that would only put her back up. No, the way to get Ginny Weasley was by sheer underhanded deception and subterfuge.
That, and sex. But Draco knew this was not the time for sex. The time for sex would come later... later tonight. He'd gone ten weeks since the last time he got some, and that time it was breakup-sex, and Draco much preferred makeup-sex to breakup-sex.
He wondered if she was sleeping with Longbottom. That would mean he'd have to kill the guy, and who knew when you’d need an expert on gillyweed... Also, killing Longbottom would mean Harry Potter would be after him, and Harry Potter already had his eye on Draco, for marrying Harry's ex-wife. Draco knew that there had been much rejoicing in the Potter household the night Ginny left for Paris, divorce papers in hand.
"Owl for you, Mister Malfoy!" called Tom.
"Oh, and just when we were getting so cozy... 'Scuse me," he said, and made sure to bump into Ginny so she’d have to let go of Longbottom's hand.
He accepted an offended-looking owl from Tom (owls took their work very seriously, and didn’t like to be used, even if it was for the sake of Draco getting laid) and went to the public fireplace that was connected to the Floo Network. He tossed some Floo powder into the fire and stuck his head in the flames.
"The Prophet, get me Zabini!"
Soon, Blaise was crouched down in front of him.
"Listen, I know how to get Ginny back!"
"To the paper, or to you?"
"Never you mind. Just do what I tell you! Send Bradley on a cruise, right this minute!"
"But he's covering the Whitby case!"
"I know he is! Send him somewhere far away, I'll pay! Tell him he's earned it!"
"But Bradley hates holidays!"
"He'll go on a holiday or he can look for another job!"
"Okay, okay. But I sure hope Ginny stays, because someone has to write the story..."
"Oh, she will. You just do your job, and I'll take care of the rest."
*
Ginny was finishing her last drop of Firewhisky when Malfoy returned to the table. She couldn't help noticing he looked quite depressed.
"Bad news?" she asked out of the kindness of her heart. He was paying for her lobster, after all.
"Yes... The Whitby case."
"Yeah, I know you've staked some on that. Too bad the Wizengamot cannot be persuaded."
"What's this?" asked Neville.
"Oh, you might remember Kevin Whitby from Hogwarts, darling. I sure do – I went to Hogsmeade with him, once. It was nice..."
"Wait a minute? You dated Whitby? When was this? Before Potter?"
"Oh, it was just a date, Draco. It didn't go anywhere – because he was crazy. And there was no chemistry."
"When?"
"What does it matter? It was after I broke up with Michael, I think."
"So what did you talk about on the date?"
"Listen, pal, I don't see why I should tell you anything. We're divorced, Malfoy, and if you're jealous..."
"Don't be stupid. You know Whitby. He trusts you, because all your old boyfriends trust you, god knows why. If I can get you in a room with him..."
"Oh!"
"If he's crazy, I'm not sure I want Ginny to be in a room with him!" Neville objected.
"Also, I kinda broke his heart..."
"How the hell could you have done that when you only went on one date with the guy?"
Ginny smiled at them.
"I can't help it if men find me attractive. I was born like that."
"You sure you want to marry her, Longbottom-oww!"
"Oh look, I think I finished my drink," said Ginny. "Maybe..."
"Oh, no. Now is not the time for drinking, Weasley. Listen, I just had some bad news. Bradley's wife is having twins."
"Oh, but that's wonderful!" said Neville.
"Yeah, maybe for him but not for me. Bradley was covering Whitby. I need a story for tomorrow, and so does Whitby unless he's to end up in Azkaban on a permanent basis!"
"Tough," said Ginny, and lit another cigarette.
"Longbottom! Talk to her! You’re about to start your marriage with a man's life between you! Can't you picture yourself in your marriage bed, and the ghost of Kevin Whitby between you and Ginny!"
"Malfoy! Tasteless!"
"Well, Ginny, if it's that bad, maybe..."
"No! No way ho-say, I’ve given up on being a journalist. It’s a hard and thankless job, and I'm going to Wales to breed whales and trim curtains and, uh, whatever it is you do with babies." She narrowed her eyes. "Also, Bradley's not married so how could his wife have twins huh?"
"It was one of those short engagements. You know how it goes – one minute you're married to me and the next you imagine yourself – I mean, she was a very pregnant bride, or so they tell me."
"Real believable, Malfoy."
"Also, I'll donate twenty thousand Galleons to Longbottom's unicorn thingie."
Ginny choked on the Butterbeer she had swiped from Malfoy, Neville dropped his wand, and Malfoy smiled smugly. The rat-bastard! Ginny was torn between admiration and hate for the Ferret.
"You'll do what?"
"Ginny writes the story, I'll donate twenty thousand Galleons to the Unicorn Society."
"But Ginny doesn't want to be a journalist-"
"Neville, darling, shut it for a minute." Ginny leaned close to Malfoy (and wished she hadn't, as he still smelled so... good) and looked into his eyes.
"May we get that in a binding format?"
"Why, of course. I'll have Zabini write you a-"
"No, I meant binding. Will you make it an Unbreakable Vow?"
"I... Uh."
"You heard me."
"Really, darling, isn't that just a bit..."
"Oh no, Neville, I trust Malfoy about as far as I can throw him-"
"Not very far the-"
"Shut it, Malfoy. Neville, it's twenty thousand Galleons to the Society. We can do a lot with that kind of money."
"But darling, Gran is waiting..."
"Oh, she can wait a little longer. I can write the story in two hours or so. A visit with Kevin, an hour to write an article about his misfortunes, and a side story about the Wizengamot - I have lots of dirt on those old farts, Malfoy, you should write a nice juicy editorial, and Zabini should make some personal calls – Draco gets the story, you get the money, we get married, have a couple of kids, Draco grows bitter and old and lonely and dies of a heart attack from working too much, and he never gets curtains. It's a good deal all 'round, I say."
"How about I just strangle you, right here, right now, and we both die without curtains, Weasley?"
"How about," she stood up, "you take Neville with you back to the office and make that Vow, while I get over to the Ministry? ...Unless you'd rather we went and picked up Mrs. Longbottom?"
The world and characters of this fic belongs to JK Rowling. The plot, title and some lines are a rip-off of the Howard Hawks' movie "His Girl Friday". Yes, it's Draco as Cary Grant, and why not? Many thanks to mrsFelton88 for her beta.
This note got lost as I posted the first chapter - I apologize, and it's there now. And I would like to thank everyone who left me reviews on chapter one!
*
Draco Malfoy was very tight-fisted with the Prophet's money, but he had always made sure Ginny ate in style. So she set out for Chez Alphonse, thinking of lobster with her Firewhisky, but after a few steps alone she discovered that the men had disappeared into the Leaky Cauldron! Ginny pressed her lips together, and retraced her footsteps. She nearly collided with Malfoy in the doorway. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her.
"There you are! Thought we'd lost you."
"I was thinking Alphonse, not the Leaky Cauldron!"
"Well, I can't help you there, I'm afraid. The paper can't afford lobster and Firewhisky."
"No, but you can!"
"Ah, but this is for an article. About the proprieties of gillyweed."
"You..!"
"Ginny? Everything all right?"
"Yes, darling, we're coming. Just clearing up a small matter about the food. Be sure to order steak! Malfoy's paying!" She sailed past Malfoy, her nose in the air.
*
The Leaky's dining-room was not too crowded that day – they managed a decent table in a corner. Ginny sat on the left, and before Neville could seat himself beside her, Draco claimed the chair.
"You won't mind, I know," he said, "I like to have my back to a wall. Old War thing. I'm sure you have some of those hang-ups yourself, eh?"
"Well, not really," said Neville, "but I do know what you mean. I remember-"
"Let's not discuss the War," said Ginny, who had far too many memories of it. Too many memories of Draco Malfoy and herself, during the War, to be sure.
"Ah, I remember one night here, sitting just like this, before the Burning of Azkaban – must have been the night before. Ginny, you sat on my left, wearing that little number- ow!"
He bent down to nurse the foot she had dug a sharp heel into. Old Tom came up to their table.
"What'll you have?" He squinted at Ginny. "Oh, it's the Weasley miss, innit? Been a while."
"Why, yes it has. I've been to the Bahamas." Ginny smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at Tom. "And now I have a craving for lobster and Firewhisky, Tom."
"Or how about Butterbeer and chips?" said Malfoy.
"Or how about lobster, and lots of it."
"I'll get you lobster, Miss."
"We'll have the shepherd's pie, won't we, Longbottom?"
"Uhm, sure."
"Food for real men."
"Cheap, too," said Ginny. She lit a cigarette, and then lit one for Malfoy. He blew a smoke ring at her, shaped like a heart. She frowned.
"So, Gin, what'll you do in Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch?"
"Oh, I'm sure we'll come up with something."
Neville laughed. Now it was Draco's turn to frown.
"Well, I have to tell you, Longbottom, you're stealing my best reporter. No one can cover a criminal case like our Gin."
"Oh, I know. But Ginny wants a home, and children, and I can give her that."
"That's right, darling. No more late nights staking out the Ministry."
"Come down from the War high, have we?"
"Maybe I have. Or maybe it was just living in a flat without curtains that did it."
Draco turned to Neville.
"And what do you do, in Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch?"
"Oh, I'm into experimental small-scale farming. Ever heard of Protector Potatoes? Or Killer Cabbage? Hugely popular now, what with the random Death Eaters still running around the countryside. They can sense Dark Magic from a mile off!"
"No, really? And here I always relied on my old wand – oww! I mean, that sounds dead interesting."
"We have a couple of unicorns too."
"Unicorns? Why, I remember my Father always wanted to get his hands on a pair of unicorns... Oww! Ginevra!"
"No one wants to hear stories about your father."
"You have a point there. So what's up with the unicorns, anyway? Are you thinking Ginny could take care of them? Because I can assure you, whatever Ginny is, she's no-"
"Oww!"
"I'm sorry Tom! My foot must've slipped!"
"Thass' all right, Miss. I can live with just the one foot. After all, I have no teeth, what's a foot or two? As long as I have me hands to serve..."
"That's right, Tom, you're a gillyweed smoker, aren't you?" Malfoy interrupted.
"What a man may choose to smoke in his spare time is his own business, Mister Malfoy! I don't hold with what you print in that paper of yours, no I don’t!"
"Ha! Here's someone who doesn't think The Prophet should be used for political purposes!" crowed Ginny.
"It's always been used for political purposes! Only now it's my political purposes and not the Ministry's!"
"Well, I don't care," said Tom, stunning them with his sudden turnabout, "I buy The Magical Times, on account of the Page Five girls, you see. Begging your pardon, Miss."
"Oh, go away, Tom. You're not helping," said Draco. "And the food’s getting cold."
"I thought you wanted to discuss gillyweed with Neville."
"Sure I do. Gillyweed or unicorns. Aren't they almost extinct, anyway?"
"Yes, that's right," said Neville. "I'm the Chairman of the Unicorn Protection Society, or UPS, and we're raising money to re-introduce the breed into the countryside. Especially Wales, as it's one of their native habitats."
"Sounds expensive."
"It is! But my Great Uncle Algie has left us a small stipend, and my Gran's friends are quite formidable at raising Galleons."
"Fascinating. I can really see Ginny... Don't put that foot down if you want to keep it, Weasley! But when do you leave for Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch? Are you to 'marry in haste'?"
"If you finish that quote, Malfoy..."
"We're taking the Knight Bus just after lunch," said Neville. "I'd love to go by broom but Gran, well, she’s getting a bit old for that..."
"I see..." Draco suddenly moved his hand and managed to overset Neville's bottle of Butterbeer. It fell into his lap. Everyone exclaimed and Ginny pulled out her wand.
"Here, let me...!"
"No, no, I'll have Tom fix me up, be right back." Malfoy strode from the table.
"That’s odd," murmured Ginny. "He’s never been clumsy..."
"I quite like him, Gin. These days, he’s a charmer."
"Sure he is, it's in his family. His father was a snake."
*
Draco cleaned himself up with his wand, and leaned over the counter towards Tom.
"Do me a favour, will you? Pretend I've been owled."
"Yeah? What'll I get out of it?"
"A Galleon?"
"Ha! Make it five, and Bob’s your uncle."
"Dammit, I'm a starving reporter!"
"What's your wife doing eating lobster if you're so poor?"
"I'd like to see you tell Ginny Weasley she can't have any lobster!"
"Your own fault for spoiling her, innit?"
"What do you know?"
"I've seen her when she was a little girl, running about with Harry Potter and only eating a ham sandwich all day, and be grateful for it!"
"Yeah, well, I prefer her well fed, thanks very much. Just come get me in a minute," Draco snarled, and walked back to the table.
Ginny and Longbottom were holding hands, looking awfully mushy. Draco would have liked to take Ginny by her shoulders and shake some sense into her, but that would only put her back up. No, the way to get Ginny Weasley was by sheer underhanded deception and subterfuge.
That, and sex. But Draco knew this was not the time for sex. The time for sex would come later... later tonight. He'd gone ten weeks since the last time he got some, and that time it was breakup-sex, and Draco much preferred makeup-sex to breakup-sex.
He wondered if she was sleeping with Longbottom. That would mean he'd have to kill the guy, and who knew when you’d need an expert on gillyweed... Also, killing Longbottom would mean Harry Potter would be after him, and Harry Potter already had his eye on Draco, for marrying Harry's ex-wife. Draco knew that there had been much rejoicing in the Potter household the night Ginny left for Paris, divorce papers in hand.
"Owl for you, Mister Malfoy!" called Tom.
"Oh, and just when we were getting so cozy... 'Scuse me," he said, and made sure to bump into Ginny so she’d have to let go of Longbottom's hand.
He accepted an offended-looking owl from Tom (owls took their work very seriously, and didn’t like to be used, even if it was for the sake of Draco getting laid) and went to the public fireplace that was connected to the Floo Network. He tossed some Floo powder into the fire and stuck his head in the flames.
"The Prophet, get me Zabini!"
Soon, Blaise was crouched down in front of him.
"Listen, I know how to get Ginny back!"
"To the paper, or to you?"
"Never you mind. Just do what I tell you! Send Bradley on a cruise, right this minute!"
"But he's covering the Whitby case!"
"I know he is! Send him somewhere far away, I'll pay! Tell him he's earned it!"
"But Bradley hates holidays!"
"He'll go on a holiday or he can look for another job!"
"Okay, okay. But I sure hope Ginny stays, because someone has to write the story..."
"Oh, she will. You just do your job, and I'll take care of the rest."
*
Ginny was finishing her last drop of Firewhisky when Malfoy returned to the table. She couldn't help noticing he looked quite depressed.
"Bad news?" she asked out of the kindness of her heart. He was paying for her lobster, after all.
"Yes... The Whitby case."
"Yeah, I know you've staked some on that. Too bad the Wizengamot cannot be persuaded."
"What's this?" asked Neville.
"Oh, you might remember Kevin Whitby from Hogwarts, darling. I sure do – I went to Hogsmeade with him, once. It was nice..."
"Wait a minute? You dated Whitby? When was this? Before Potter?"
"Oh, it was just a date, Draco. It didn't go anywhere – because he was crazy. And there was no chemistry."
"When?"
"What does it matter? It was after I broke up with Michael, I think."
"So what did you talk about on the date?"
"Listen, pal, I don't see why I should tell you anything. We're divorced, Malfoy, and if you're jealous..."
"Don't be stupid. You know Whitby. He trusts you, because all your old boyfriends trust you, god knows why. If I can get you in a room with him..."
"Oh!"
"If he's crazy, I'm not sure I want Ginny to be in a room with him!" Neville objected.
"Also, I kinda broke his heart..."
"How the hell could you have done that when you only went on one date with the guy?"
Ginny smiled at them.
"I can't help it if men find me attractive. I was born like that."
"You sure you want to marry her, Longbottom-oww!"
"Oh look, I think I finished my drink," said Ginny. "Maybe..."
"Oh, no. Now is not the time for drinking, Weasley. Listen, I just had some bad news. Bradley's wife is having twins."
"Oh, but that's wonderful!" said Neville.
"Yeah, maybe for him but not for me. Bradley was covering Whitby. I need a story for tomorrow, and so does Whitby unless he's to end up in Azkaban on a permanent basis!"
"Tough," said Ginny, and lit another cigarette.
"Longbottom! Talk to her! You’re about to start your marriage with a man's life between you! Can't you picture yourself in your marriage bed, and the ghost of Kevin Whitby between you and Ginny!"
"Malfoy! Tasteless!"
"Well, Ginny, if it's that bad, maybe..."
"No! No way ho-say, I’ve given up on being a journalist. It’s a hard and thankless job, and I'm going to Wales to breed whales and trim curtains and, uh, whatever it is you do with babies." She narrowed her eyes. "Also, Bradley's not married so how could his wife have twins huh?"
"It was one of those short engagements. You know how it goes – one minute you're married to me and the next you imagine yourself – I mean, she was a very pregnant bride, or so they tell me."
"Real believable, Malfoy."
"Also, I'll donate twenty thousand Galleons to Longbottom's unicorn thingie."
Ginny choked on the Butterbeer she had swiped from Malfoy, Neville dropped his wand, and Malfoy smiled smugly. The rat-bastard! Ginny was torn between admiration and hate for the Ferret.
"You'll do what?"
"Ginny writes the story, I'll donate twenty thousand Galleons to the Unicorn Society."
"But Ginny doesn't want to be a journalist-"
"Neville, darling, shut it for a minute." Ginny leaned close to Malfoy (and wished she hadn't, as he still smelled so... good) and looked into his eyes.
"May we get that in a binding format?"
"Why, of course. I'll have Zabini write you a-"
"No, I meant binding. Will you make it an Unbreakable Vow?"
"I... Uh."
"You heard me."
"Really, darling, isn't that just a bit..."
"Oh no, Neville, I trust Malfoy about as far as I can throw him-"
"Not very far the-"
"Shut it, Malfoy. Neville, it's twenty thousand Galleons to the Society. We can do a lot with that kind of money."
"But darling, Gran is waiting..."
"Oh, she can wait a little longer. I can write the story in two hours or so. A visit with Kevin, an hour to write an article about his misfortunes, and a side story about the Wizengamot - I have lots of dirt on those old farts, Malfoy, you should write a nice juicy editorial, and Zabini should make some personal calls – Draco gets the story, you get the money, we get married, have a couple of kids, Draco grows bitter and old and lonely and dies of a heart attack from working too much, and he never gets curtains. It's a good deal all 'round, I say."
"How about I just strangle you, right here, right now, and we both die without curtains, Weasley?"
"How about," she stood up, "you take Neville with you back to the office and make that Vow, while I get over to the Ministry? ...Unless you'd rather we went and picked up Mrs. Longbottom?"
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