Daphne couldn't help but allow herself a small smile, which even to her seemed a little too ecstatic. She looked back at Ginny, giving her another once-over. "I suppose you're not a Muggle, then, if Draco cares to remember you."

The girl flushed, seeming more than a little affronted. "I'm not a Muggle," she replied indignantly. "I'm Ginny Weasley!"

Daphne nodded, and rested her head on her arms. "Draco's just told me as much."

"Daphne," came the warning from Draco's direction.

She ignored it, and continued almost gleefully. "Why do you know her, Draco?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious, but Daphne knew that Draco could discern the faint undertones of mockery in her voice. "Perhaps you're not quite the person my sister seems to think she knows."

Draco's eyes narrowed, his grip on the coat tightening, and Daphne curled her lips – she knew she was finally getting under his skin, and she relished every moment.

Until Ginny Weasley ruined it for her, at least.

"I suppose you must be Daphne Greengrass, then, if you know Draco," she remarked, tilting her head to one side. "But then again, maybe you're not quite the person your sister thinks she knows, either, if you're going around shaking hands with Muggles…" Her smile turned slightly mischievous. "Or who you think are Muggles."

Daphne saw Draco relax, and she glared dully at the Weasley. "My sister knows nothing of me," she hissed, and Daphne almost let the gravity of her own words unsettle her. Her figurative feathers gradually returned to their unruffled state. "The littlest weasel has claws, after all. Not bad."

"Your information is obviously a bit outdated," Ginny threw back, eating another spoonful of the soup. "I'm no longer the littlest, I'm afraid."

"Not bad at all," Daphne surmised appreciatively. "Did you teach her, Draco?"

The woman in question snorted before the Malfoy could even open his mouth.

"And that," began the brunette, smirking, "shows exactly what she thinks of you." She turned back to Ginny, and although she hadn't gotten a definitive one, Daphne already knew Ginny's answer to her offer. "I think we'll have a splendid time, don't you?"

Ginny briefly grinned at her before turning to look at Draco. "Your sister's husband, if I'm not mistaken?" she asked quietly, but didn't turn back for an answer when Daphne gave none. Instead, she strode up to the blond, her eyes locked on his face.

"How have you been?"

Taken aback by the random question, Draco replied cautiously, "Well."

Neither he nor Daphne could have anticipated the stinging slap that followed.

Ginny smiled with satisfaction. "That was seven years overdue." She faced Daphne, ignoring Draco's pained grunts, and when she next spoke, her voice had taken on a business-like tone. "I'm interested in this partnership, Miss Greengrass. If you can have the terms outlined by tomorrow, I'll see what I can do in a week. Do we have a deal?"

Daphne grinned in response, and Ginny was gone with a cheerful pop.

"Feisty one, isn’t she?" Daphne snickered as she gathered the used tableware. Draco stared intently at the spot where Ginny had Disapparated, and then froze, turning to Daphne.

"What do you think you're playing at?"

"I am playing nothing," came her confident answer.

Draco all but growled. "It's best to leave sleeping dogs lie, Daphne," he said, quite coldly. "Else you might find yourself running from several sets of canine jaws."

Daphne cast him an amused look. "If that happens, Draco, I wouldn't be the one doing the running."

That morning, Ginny had caused quite an incident in her workplace when she threw down her invitation, along with a resignation form, on the desk of her superior, proclaiming quite clearly, "I am done with you," before stalking off and making a dramatic exit. She left behind a stunned Dean Thomas, several mortified coworkers and a few who secretly rejoiced, having coveted her position for themselves. All in all, very satisfying results.

Ginny giggled to herself as she imagined how Dean would try to explain his department's incomplete attendance at the meeting, what with her resignation too close to the event for him to have enough time to find someone else to promote.

She'd kept corresponding with Daphne over the last few days, negotiating the terms of their agreement, and had taken to taking over work at the café every other day. In the beginning, she’d had some trouble in exchanging Muggle currency at the speed and frequency she needed to have, but several after-hours with Daphne quickly remedied her problem. Unsurprisingly, she grew to like her job in the café – the warm smell of the kitchen reminded her fondly of the Burrow, but her non-Wizarding surroundings proved to be effective in preventing her from feeling too homesick.

The café itself attracted a considerable number of customers (especially during lunch hour. Merlin, her feet hurt from all that rushing around) and as such generated a fair amount of revenue. Ginny knew that Daphne liked to rub their success in her sister's face whenever she dropped by after working hours.

With Draco.

The hand that was manually washing dishes paused. She hadn't seen Draco since she'd greeted him rather enthusiastically with the palm of her hand. She supposed he would have been reluctant to have anything to do with her after that, but in that case… it wasn't like the past seven years was anything but reluctant.

Ginny started scrubbing particularly violently, as if all her life's problems would be solved by mistreating crockery.

A small giggle, with a hint of a snicker, came from the kitchen hallway and she jumped, whipping her head to the side to see who it was.

A willowy blonde, wearing a facial expression that reminded her of Daphne, stood with regality, one gloved hand raised to primly cover her smiling mouth. When Ginny saw she was wearing witch robes, she shot an alarmed glance at the clock and was relieved to remember that she had closed up shop precisely an hour ago.

"Don't worry," a soprano voice floated from the blonde. "Even if any Muggles were to come in here, it would be a tragic overestimation on your part to assume that they, of all, could understand what we are."

Ginny's eyes narrowed at her. "May I help you?" She felt her back stiffen in response when the woman chose to ignore her and move closer.

"You must be Daphne's new partner," she said off-handedly. "Draco's told me of you. I must say, I'm a bit surprised." She did not continue to say why, but then sniffed, "Astoria Malfoy, if you please."

Deep in the back of her mind, Ginny was amused, and although she had expected no less of someone who was Daphne's sister and the current Malfoy spouse, Astoria's holier-than-thou manner still annoyed her. "I see," she replied, and she was pleased to note that Astoria, in turn, looked irked at her dismissive tone. "Ginny Weasley, but you already knew that, I suppose."

Instead of the annoyed reaction Ginny was fishing for, the pale-haired woman raised both of her eyebrows. "Really, now," she remarked, almost to herself.

Wiping her hands on her apron, Ginny could feel the shape of her wand through the cloth and was reassured. "Is there something wrong?"

Astoria took on a thoughtful expression. "Pardon me, it's just…" She glanced sideways at Ginny, who was getting increasingly uncomfortable by each minute. "You're really a Weasley."

"Born and bred." Ginny couldn't help but bristle. She added, just for the heck of it, "Proudly, too." What are you trying to imply?

"Draco knows you," Astoria carefully enunciated. "From the way he's spoken of you, at the very least, you're a good acquaintance of his… I just can't understand–" She stopped, her face suddenly taut and withdrawn.

"Yes?" Ginny asked impatiently. She had no idea what this woman wanted, and she wanted to be done with the dishes before the next hour.

Astoria looked sharply at her. "What were you to him?"

"Ex– excuse me?"

"I will not stand for… for anything inappropriate, you understand?" Her voice cut like hissed ice. The abrupt change of manner confused Ginny as to what was happening, but her hand strayed to her pocketed wand nonetheless. "Draco is mine, and I'd appreciate it if–"

Understanding dawned on Ginny's face and she quickly interrupted, horrified. "What exactly do you think we are?"

"I don't know who you are, or why you're suddenly here," began Astoria, narrowing her eyes, "But I am giving you only one warning. If I hear about any untoward advances on my husband…"

Neither Draco nor Daphne must have told her about Ginny slapping Draco. "We were friends at school, nothing more," she replied coldly to Astoria. "I haven't seen Draco since last week and, unless you also expressly forbid your husband from visiting your sister, I don't doubt I'll be seeing him soon."

She saw, with some satisfaction, that Astoria was just short of openly baring her teeth.

"I'm sure you understand my situation," the former Greengrass almost spat. "I am his wife."

Ginny waved her hand with a gesture that, for some odd reason, comforted her. "And you have a responsibility to each other, and all that. Be that as it may," she paused, glaring at the other woman, "I don't take well to threats."

There was a tense pause, and then Astoria seemed to deflate slightly. She nodded in Ginny's direction. "I think it is best that I leave you, or we'll start hexing each other like little schoolgirls." She hesitated, then gritted out a polite, "Good evening," before thankfully walking out the door instead of Disapparating.

It was then Ginny wondered why she chose not to mention the fact that she hadn't spoken a single word to Draco in seven years to his jealous wife.

"All right there, Weasley?" Daphne called from the living room the moment Ginny stomped inside her apartment, startling her.

"How did you get here?" Ginny demanded, frozen stiff at the door.

"You might want to put better wards around your apartment, darling." Daphne walked out to greet her with a steaming cup of tea. "An untrained owl could track this place down and get in." She held out the tea as a peace offering. Never mind that it was already her partner's tea in the first place, having taken the brew from the apartment kitchen.

"Thank you," said Ginny, not sounding very thankful at all. She took the tea from Daphne and downed it, kicking the door shut behind her. "Also," she began, wincing at the scalding heat she poured down her throat, "please call off your sister."

Daphne sat on the lumpy couch and raised an eyebrow at her.

"It's true," the upset witch insisted, plopping down ungracefully beside Daphne. "She's convinced Draco and I are having an affair, but how could we have, if the last and only time we met in the past eight years was last week?"

The rest of Ginny's rant she tuned out, opting instead to sit back quietly and ponder the interesting development her hands brought about.

"And Daphne," Ginny began abruptly, looking cautious, "you didn't tell Astoria about me, um, slapping Draco?"

Daphne suddenly felt a lot more cheerful. "I didn't."

Ginny sighed and, elbows on her knees, held her head. "I see."

Daphne looked at her curiously. "Do you?"

She received a glare in return. "No, I don't."

Then Ginny seemed to be confused as to what they were actually talking about, and Daphne laughed self-indulgently.

Ginny looked resigned. "Get out of my apartment, Greengrass."

Author notes: Again, my betas rock. Thank you, O Wise Ones.