PART TWO

Prompt: 003. Tomorrow

Only once he was utterly certain that she was caught in deep sleep did Draco extract himself from the bed of the blonde waitress. Carefully, he lifted her arm from where it had been slung across his stomach and then slid to one side until he had enough space to manoeuvre himself into a sitting position. The mattress creaked noisily as he did so, causing him to freeze. Thankfully, Aislin did not stir. In the hallway outside her doorway the utilitarian grandfather clock he had spied earlier that night made an odd clunking noise before once again falling silent.

He had to leave. He had already made the mistake of allowing himself to drift off after they had finished shagging and he had no intention of hanging around until she woke up. Aislin had proved to be energetic and responsive in bed but out of it she was as dull as dishwater. So dull, in fact, that they had nearly not made it to bed at all.

Besides, he had the sneaking suspicion that she still lived with her parents and he had no desire to end up at the wrong end of her father’s wand in the morning.

The hallway was fortuitously dark as Draco emerged from the bedroom. Barefoot, he padded in the direction he vaguely remembered the staircase being in, keeping to the centre as much as possible so as to reduce the chance of bumped elbows and stubbed toes. One sound and the game would be up. His luck was in again as he found the embers of a fire glowing in the kitchen hearth and a pot of Floo powder. Seconds later he was stepping out into the study of the apartment he kept in London. A glance towards the window showed that the steady electric glow of the city at night was being replaced by that of dawn.

He brought a hand up to rub tiredly at his face only to end up nearly poking himself in the eye as something impacted with the pane of glass.

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed, blinking rapidly until his vision cleared again.

Perched on his windowsill was an extraordinarily irate looking owl. As Draco stared, it flapped its wings, causing one to thud against the window again. He hurried over, wondering what could possibly be so important that someone would send him a message in the middle of the night.

The owl did a leisurely circuit of the room before landing on the back of the chair behind his desk. Draco crossed to it – but not before grabbing a handful of treats from the feed bowl that he kept for Morningstar, his owl. The morsels seemed to go some way to placating the strange bird and it stilled while Draco removed the letter that it had been carrying.

Draco switched on his desk lamp and turned the envelope over, raising his eyebrows first at the colour (which was slightly faded and purple) and then the hasty ‘Draco Malfoy’ that was scrawled across the front. An ominous feeling washed over him as he tore it open.

-

Malfoy,

Meet me at 12:30 tomorrow outside the Leaky. You’re taking me to lunch. You’ve got one chance - best make it somewhere nice.

Ginny

-

Draco baffled expression morphed into a knowing, triumphant smirk.

She was wearing a blue coat that flared from the waist and brushed the tops of her knees. The colour of the wool was rich and crisp in the thin sunshine bathing the street; it left the red of her hair looking brighter than it had any right to appear. Only moments before there had been a heavy shower, and now she had an umbrella with a white plastic handle collapsed down by her legs. As Draco watched, she shook it slightly causing a flurry of water droplets to spray out over the pavement. A passing woman made a disgruntled face as she was caught in the aftermath.

The last time that Draco had seen her, Ginny Weasley had been scowling at him across the restaurant floor as he had escorted a giggling Aislin out of the front door. Her fellow waitress had been hanging off Draco’s arm, blushing at the latest compliment he had paid her. When he had spotted Ginny and her expression, he had allowed a casual smirk to settle onto his features. The responding glare that she had riffled in his direction had nearly been enough to make him hasten from the building.

Her eyes flitted left, then right, and finally down to the watch on her wrist as she tugged the sleeve of back. Draco stepped out of the shadows and slipped across the road, skirting around the back of a black cab as it passed.

“You’re here,” she said as he came to a halt in front of her. Surprise coloured her words, making Draco wonder what she had been expecting. He had approached her first, after all.

A second later the look had been banished. “You’re late,” she amended, seeming to remember herself.

“It was raining,” Draco said. “I wasn’t going to Apparate outside in that. Come on, we’d best go before anyone sees us.” He moved to take hold of her arm only to have her take a step away from him.

“Where are we going?” she asked in an unmistakably curious voice. “Should I hail a cab?”

He shook his head. “We can walk.”

“It’s not far, is it? I’m wearing heels, Malfoy.”

Draco shortened his stride. “No, not far,” he told her. Casting a meaningful look in her direction, he continued, “You didn’t give me much time but I managed to get us a table at a decent enough restaurant. It’s a Muggle one, of course. It wouldn’t do to be seen together.”

He was not surprised to see Ginny nod in agreement.

Choosing a restaurant had turned out to be surprisingly difficult. Money had been no problem, of course, and he had known that wherever he decided upon he would have relatively little trouble getting a table. But he had still found himself deliberating over precisely where to take his reluctant lunch date. He had known that it would have to be somewhere that she would not feel uncomfortable, since he still wanted her to go along with his plans. Yet it also had to be somewhere that was – in her words – ‘nice’.

‘Nice’ to him undoubtedly did not mean the same as it did to her.

Most importantly, though, it had to be somewhere that they were not likely to be spotted. That one consideration had immediately ruled out all the wizarding establishments that had fit the other criteria. Weasley red and Malfoy blond were far too well known for them to be able to walk into virtually any such establishment in Britain. Since he had no desire to ferry her across the channel, he had decided on a restaurant that he knew was popular among Muggles - one with a reputation for attracting names. Maybe his willingness to eat in such a place would impress her as much as the price of the food. He had the sneaking suspicion that his success in persuading Ginny to help him hinged on the outcome of the meal they were about to share.

The look on her face as they arrived was not what he had hoped it would be, however. Instead of looking impressed, Ginny appeared deeply sceptical. At the questioning look that Draco sent in her direction, she said, “The Ministry isn’t far from here.”

“I’m sure they’re all far too busy enjoying that lovely cafeteria food they serve there to be out wandering around London.”

The indelicate snort that erupted from Ginny told him exactly what she thought of that idea.

A porter held the door open for them as they entered, Draco allowing Ginny to go first although it meant missing any reaction that she had to the place. Compared to outside, the restaurant was blessedly warm and more importantly dry. It had just been beginning to drizzle as they had approached the twin honey-brown doors with their small squares of glass and brass handles.

Once they were inside, Ginny immediately shucked her winter coat, draping it over her arm. Oblivious to the approving look that Draco was sending in her direction, she reached up to check her hair and then turned to face him. Surprise flitted through her eyes as she noted his expression.

Stepping closer, Draco inclined his head towards hers and said, “You do realise that this isn’t actually a date, don’t you?”

Ginny smoothed down her dress, running her hands lightly over the cool grey material. “It doesn’t hurt to look nice, Malfoy,” she told him almost haughtily.

He could not help but agree.

The table they were shown to was situated in a discreet spot, well away from any windows. Draco was pleased to notice that as they made their way towards it they garnered admiring looks from the other dinners. Ginny might not be the most beautiful woman he had ever had on his arm but she was certainly eye catching. Draco suspected that they made a rather striking pair. Just because there was about as much chance of him deciding to date a centaur as there was that he would see Ginny in anything other than a business capacity it did not mean that he could not take a little pride in the moment. As they moved further from the door, he wondered whether there was anyone famous there to see them. Not that it would really matter, of course, since they would hardly be famous in the wizarding world.

“I have never known anyone who preens as much as you do,” Ginny said once they were seated and their order had been taken. Draco glanced to his right. Their waiter had only just left, but he gave no indication that he had heard her. To Draco’s relief he was headed in the direction of the bar. He hoped that the man would not be long with their drinks.

Seemingly without pause, she added, “And considering the fact that I have Fleur Delacour for a sister-in-law that’s actually kind of surprising.”

“There is nothing wrong with looking good,” he replied dryly, turning her words back on her. To his surprise, Ginny smiled a little, almost as if she was pleased with him.

Leaning back on her chair, she allowed her eyes to skim over not just the other customers but the decor as well. Draco watched her, waiting for her reaction. To his eye it was all quite tasteful. Warm coloured wood and dark green furnishings dominated. There were bright, sometimes almost extravagant paintings on the panelled walls. On one, there was a vivid mural in which citrus shades mixed with red and only a hint of blue. While the windows towards the front were large and open, there were other smaller ones filled with panels of stained glass scattered about the place as well. One was dark blue and featured a moon. The overall effect was relaxed and pleasant.

“Does it meet with your approval?” he asked.

She nodded. “You did well. I like it.”

“I always excel under pressure.”

“So I’ve heard.” She tilted her head slightly to one side. “You know, I never would have picked you for a solicitor, Malfoy.”

“It is the family business,” he pointed out. “There have been Malfoys and Blacks involved with the law since the foundation of our legal system.”

Ginny smirked. “That’s one way of putting it,” she said.

Draco blinked and then caught on to his mistake. His reaction caused Ginny’s face to contract with a barely suppressed laugh. He opened his mouth to snap at her and then remembered that he was supposed to be charming her, talking her around to his side of things.

“I think I should make one thing clear from the very start,” Ginny said firmly. Their drinks had arrived, interrupting the previous topic and neatly allowing Draco to steer it in the direction of why they were there to begin with. Draco was pleased that she had not resisted the change. He did not want her to be thinking about his history, or his family’s history, or anything that might make her change her decide that meeting him had been a bad idea after all.

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“I’m serious. I just want it to be absolutely clear that just because I’m here talking to you it doesn’t mean that I’m going to automatically agree with everything you say. Hermione has been hurt enough recently. If I think that what you propose is going to make matters worse then I can’t agree with it.”

“You seem to think that I have some master-plan already in place,” he replied.

“You don’t?” Draco was pleased by the fact that she sounded genuinely surprised.

“Not exactly the Slytherin way, I know, but it’s the truth all the same.” He paused, remembering his earlier promise to himself. Leaning forwards ever so slightly, he added, “When I said that I wanted your advice as to how to proceed, I meant it. Besides knowing Granger better than I could ever hope to – or want to – I suspect that the feminine touch might prove useful for whatever course of action we decide upon.”

“You never asked for my advice.”

“I did…”

Ginny shook her head. “You told me that I was going to help you. There’s a difference.”

“I meant to,” he countered. “Though, in my defence, I feel I must point out that you did not seem particularly inclined to listen.”

“I didn’t think that you had anything to say that was worth listening to.”

“What changed your mind?”

“I’m still not entirely sure that I have changed my mind.”

“You’re here. You contacted me,” Draco pointed out matter-of-factly. “You’re too much of a typically stubborn Gryffindor to do that unless you had. Something must have happened last night to make you reconsider. What was it?”

She hesitated and reached forwards to play with the stem of her glass, twisting it in a circle and causing the liquid within to roll up gently the sides before falling back down. She had not protested when he had ordered wine for them. Instead, she had watched him closely as he did so. Draco had felt almost as if he was being tested, as he had no doubt been when she had told him to choose somewhere nice for their lunch date. Since she worked at a restaurant, Draco guessed that she at least had some notion as to what was good.

“I just had a good think about it when I got home last night,” she said finally. “As much as I hate to admit it what you said started to make sense. Try not to let that smirk get any wider, Malfoy – the top of your head might fall off.”

Draco let out a soft chuckle. Leaning back on his chair, he said, “This seems to be a day of firsts for us. I never thought I would hear one of your lot tell me I was right about something, and I bet you never thought that you’d say it either.”

“Don’t make me regret it, okay?”

Sobering immediately, Draco nodded. “I won’t.” It seemed to him that a flicker of surprise passed through her eyes. “I’m fully capable of keeping my promises,” he added, feeling mildly affronted.

Ginny shot him a dry look. “Capable? Yes. Going to?” She paused briefly and then shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe it would be best if you didn’t make any promises at all.”

“There is a problem with what you’re suggesting, Malfoy,” Ginny said, taking the dark green napkin that had been draped across her knee and dropping it on the table beside her now empty plate. The food had been simple and yet delicious, and it had not escaped her noticed that Malfoy had been generous both with the wine he had ordered and in suggesting that she should choose something from the dessert menu. It was abundantly apparent that he was still not certain that he had her promise to cooperate nailed down. Ginny thought that he was being very perceptive.

Well, at least about some things anyway.

Over lunch, they had begun to discuss in detail what course of action would be best now that it had effectively been decided that they would indeed work together. It had so far proved to be a rather fruitless discussion. Ginny had not thought for a moment that figuring out the right way to proceed would be easy, but she had not quite believed that Malfoy did not have any ideas at all either. Finding out that he was in fact even more clueless than he had admitted was frustrating. The one plan that he had suggested was far from realistic in her opinion.

“What’s that?” he asked, clearly not impressed that she had objected.

“The problem,” Ginny announced, “Is that Hermione will never fall for it.”

“It’s not a question of her falling for it,” Draco replied. “There is nothing to fall for. It’s about romance. Wouldn’t you enjoy a nice break – somewhere away in the country, perhaps? Think of it; just you and whoever you’re busy shagging at the moment alone together with no distractions and – in this case at least – no escape.”

Draco leaned forwards and rested his forearms on the edge of the table. He looked at her with an inquisitive gleam in his grey eyes, leaving Ginny with the distinct impression that he was asking about more than just her opinion. The realisation shook her slightly. She had not missed the way in which he had been casting looks towards her ever since they had entered the restaurant. The manner of his observation about her dress had undoubtedly contained a suggestion that he approved. The thought he might now be making enquiries about her love life seemed ludicrous and yet…

She nearly shivered - she would have if she had been slightly less in control of her body at that moment. Firmly forcing herself back to the present she decided that telling Draco about the highs and lows that constituted her recent relationships would be about as pleasant as cuddling a Blast-Ended Skrewt. She could already imagine the sneer that would inevitably seep across his features despite the fact that from what she had heard he was in no position to judge her. Hell, she had seen him leaving The Round Table with Aislin only the night before.

Still, he had a point, in a way. She could not remember the last time that someone had whisked her away for a romantic weekend. Indeed, it was rather depressing to realise that the closest she had come to being pampered in some time was the meal that she had just enjoyed with him. Her last date had thought that she would be impressed by a cream tea at a teashop that had proved to be even more twee than Madam Puddifoot’s. Ginny had not been aware that such a thing for even possible. The less said about the date that had preceded that one the better.

The problem was simple: she rarely found anyone who was capable of keeping her attention once they had managed to grab it. Most of the time she grew tired of them, whether it was after only a handful of dates or something more. Some were too serious, others too flighty. She had dated men that attracted her on an intellectual level but not on a physical one, and vice versa. Both were fun but ultimately unfulfilling. Quick flings were enjoyable, and Ginny was not above inviting a man home simply because her hormones were in charge. But she knew that ultimately what she needed a balance of the two within a relationship. Recently, she had begun to feel the gulf between her ideal and what she was experiencing even more. It did not help that her friends were all beginning to settle down. Even Neville was talking about proposing.

Of course if she was being completely honest then she would have to admit that the idea of commitment was as scary as it was appealing – perhaps even more so. She enjoyed the carefree fun aspects of her life. Her relationship with Harry had contained enough seriousness to last more than one lifetime. When you added the additional heartbreak that apparently went with being Harry Potter’s girlfriend anyway it was enough for twenty lifetimes.

She pushed the thought away. Harry moved through girlfriends at nearly the same rate that she did with men, though for far different reasons. Every girl seemed to want to date the saviour of the wizarding world.

Realising that she had been quiet too long, Ginny shook her head and said, “It was a romantic getaway that got Blaise into trouble to begin with. Hermione can be fiercely stubborn – especially about something like this. She wouldn’t believe me anyway. I’ve been telling her as nicely as I can to get on with her life. She would think that Blaise had gotten to me, and just interpret it as him trying to manipulate her into changing her mind.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” At the surprised look Ginny shot him, he added, “Obviously it’s not good that she would think that he was trying to manipulate her but at least she would realise that he still cares about her.”

“Here’s a little lesson for you,” Ginny said, her lips twitching with amusement. “Very few women are fooled into thinking that flashy gifts automatically mean that men love them – especially not when the men in question could purchase the same thing fifty times over and not be in the least bit worried about the amount of money that they’re spending.”

Draco’s eyebrows went up. “So if someone bought you a gift – a piece of jewellery, let’s say – then you would be suspicious of them?”

“It would depend on the man in question,” Ginny replied, not having to pause to think.

“Oh, Weasley, your love life must be terribly depressing. No wonder you go through men, so quickly. You don’t know when they’re trying to show you that they care.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. “Tell me, how long do those women you care for stick around after you’ve stopped giving them sparkly baubles? Better yet, how long do they stick around if you don’t to begin with?”

With surprising stoicism, Draco said, “This may surprise you, but I do have attributes attractive to women other than the size of my balance at Gringotts.”

Impulsively, Ginny let her eyes drift down towards where his torso disappeared beneath the edge of the table. “I’m sure you do,” she said, before quickly lifting her gaze again. In a light voice, she added, “The Malfoys’ still have a sizeable property portfolio, don’t they?”

“Well, it is sizeable, but it doesn’t have anything to do with land.”

Ginny cringed. “Sure,” she said, turning her head to the side as she felt warmth begin to steadily seep into her cheeks. When the feeling refused to fade, she reached for her wine glass and quickly lifted it to her lips. Maybe, if she was lucky, Malfoy would think that she was drunk instead of embarrassed.

“If you would like to inspect…”

A cough burst from her chest as she very nearly inhaled her wine. After putting down her glass, she then grabbed her napkin and quickly covered her mouth as a coughing fit ensued. Through the tears gathering in her eyes, she saw the smirk that had seemingly been firmly fixed on Draco’s lips falter.

“Do try not to die,” he said, leaning forwards to pour her a glass of water. Ginny accepted it gratefully, even though she did not particularly feel like thanking him since it was his fault that she was in danger of hacking up a lung to begin with.

“I hate to think what would happen if you actually did ever get to see me in the altogether.”

She set her glass down on the table and shot him a dry look. As the last of her coughs dwindled away, she said, “That will never happen - which is probably a good thing for both of us.”

Before Draco could make any further comment, she reached down and picked up her handbag. He watched, clearly interested, as she rooted around inside and eventually came up with her pad and a Muggle pen that she had taken to carrying around with her. It was much easier to take orders with than a quill, and in the enlightened days since Voldemort’s defeat it rarely raised eyebrows anymore.

“Is that bag bottomless?” he asked after a moment.

Ginny nodded. “They’re useful,” she said a little defensively.

“Undoubtedly. I just didn’t think that you would use one around Muggles, being law-abiding and all.”

She closed it quickly, all too aware that the restaurant was still busy and, furthermore, that Draco was being deliberately nosey. “Well, I didn’t know that we would be eating around them.”

He leaned forwards, as if to try and peer through the open mouth of the bag. “What else do you have in there?”

“That’s none of your business. Now, since you don’t have any ideas I think we need to brainstorm.” She tapped her pen on the pad to try and focus his attention.

“It’s not my fault. From what I’ve been able to ascertain Blaise has already tried all the usual Slytherin tactics. He hasn’t been very open about the situation. I don’t think that he’s even really talking to Marcus about what he’s up to.”

“Conflict of interest,” Ginny observed.

Draco nodded. “Something like that,” he said.

“All of them?” Ginny queried a moment later. “Are you sure?” He shot her a quizzical look, silently prompting her to continue.

Ginny shifted slightly, edging closer to the table. “What about not letting them know what’s happening?” she said, keeping her voice low. “How about we set them up?”

Draco’s expression contorted. Indeed, for a second it became almost comical as he seemed to struggle with some inner debate. His eyes were wide as he stared at her. Then, all of a suddenly, he seemed to fall against the back of his chair. Ginny nearly looked around to see whether the abruptness of his movement had caused anyone to look in her direction.

Before she could, however, he brought a hand up to rub his face and said, “I’m shocked. You, Weasley - you’re a sneaky little one! I would never have imagined that you would agree to such a thing – that’s why I didn’t bother to suggest it.”

Ginny wondered whether she had imagined the admiring look that seemed to flit over his face. She hoped that she had imagined it, she told herself firmly. Having Malfoy think she was attractive was one thing but having his admire her for any other reason was not desirable.

“I prefer to think of it as being brave,” she told him.

“Oh?”

She nodded. “Because if this doesn’t work and Hermione ever finds out that we were behind it then she’s probably going to kill me.”

NOTE: Apologies for the slightly odd formatting in parts. The site doesn't appear to want to cooperate with me tonight. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far.