*Author's note: This fic came into being after listening to Bed by Semisonic followed by Eyes on Fire by Blue Foundation. It then twisted, turned, and ended up...well...not where I expected. I love Harry–I think he's a great guy. I just love to see him get the short end of the stick, especially where Ginny is concerned. What can I say? I am nowhere near as big a fan of Harry/Ginny as I am of Draco/Ginny.*

Revenge

"Ginny," the woman being addressed looked up from her fish and chips to see the Boy Who Lived staring at her from across the table.

"Yes, Harry?"

"I've got something I want to ask you–something rather important."

Ginny's heart fluttered. Her stomach felt like the pieces of fish she had just eaten turned into butterflies. This is it, Ginny thought, he's going to ask me to marry him.

"Alright, Harry," she dabbed at her mouth with her serviette and smiled brightly. "What do you want to ask me?"

Harry stood and Ginny thought she might pass out.

This is really happening, her mind screamed. Hermione was right...any day now. I bet she knew, that silly bint! Of course she did, we were only talking about it the other day.

Ginny had to force her mind to quiet down as Harry, her boyfriend for almost ten years, approached her. He stopped just beside her, seemed to hesitate, and then shoved his hand into his jeans pocket. Ginny drew in her breath sharply and prepared for the inevitable. She let it out in a puff when, instead of kneeling, Harry pulled out the chair next to her, and sat.

"OK, so the thing is Ginny that we've been seeing one another for a long time, right?" Harry asked.

Ginny could only nod. Maybe he was taking the not-so-traditional marriage proposal route?

Harry nodded, too. "Yeah, so we've been together for quite a while and I was wondering...well...that is I mean to say..."

Ginny wanted to thump him.

"Yes, Harry?" she promoted, a bit austerely.

"Will you move in with me, Ginny?" The Boy Who Lived asked in one rush of breath.

Ginny blinked.

Her stomach, which had gone back to feeling like it was full of butterflies, suddenly plummeted into the vicinity of her big toe.

She forced the smile to stay on her face as she asked, "I'm sorry, Harry, what?"

The green-eyed demi-god before her, the same man who defeated Voldemort over a decade ago, swallowed nervously. "I want you to move into my flat, Gin. That is, if you want to move in with me."

Slowly, the smile faded from the redhead's lips. A muscle twitched by her right eye.

In an instant, Ginny was on her feet. "Move in with you?" she squeaked.

Harry looked petrified and sat rock still, as if afraid to make a move. "Y-yes," his eyes narrowed in confusion. "You don't sound happy about this."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ginny replied, but her tone belied her words. "We've been together for almost a decade Harry Potter and you are, just now, asking me to move in with you?"

Harry bit his lip. "Yes?"

"You practically live here, at my flat." Ginny stomped her foot in an insanely childish move. At that precise moment, however, she didn't really care if she appeared childish.

"Well," Harry began uncertainly. "I suppose I could move in here, officially, but my place is bigger."

That was entirely the wrong thing to say, though.

Floored, Ginny's mouth dropped open and she stomped away from Harry and her dinner. She could hear her boyfriend following her into the lounge, but she made no move to stop or look at him.

"Ginny, what did I say? I thought you'd be happy."

"Happy?" Ginny squeaked again, her voice rising several octaves this time. She whirled to face him, which caused the man to stop suddenly in his tracks.

"Yes," Harry nodded. Wisely, he stopped out of arms length of the fiery redhead. "I want to live with you, Ginny. I love you."

"Live with me? What about marry me, Harry? Do you want to do that, or are you only interested in changing our shagging arrangements?" She spat, incensed.

Now it was Harry's turn to drop his jaw. "Ginny," he admonished, eyes wide.

"Oh please, Harry! That is all we do these days and you know it." Harry looked about to protest, but Ginny barreled on before he could. "And we don't ever shag at your place, oh no! You come here, with fish and chips or Chinese takeaway, and then we end up on the sofa, or on my bed, or on the kitchen counter. It happens every time."

At his look Ginny's anger flared up again. "Don't you dare deny it, either."

"So we have a lot of sex! A lot of good sex, which we both enjoy!" Harry threw up his hands. "What's that got to do with moving in together?"

"It's all we do, Harry!" Ginny shouted back.

"It is not."

"When was the last time we went out for dinner–and don't you say to my parent's house every weekend or so help me, Harry, I will hex you into next week!"

Harry's eyes lowered to the carpet under his feet. "I guess it has been a while," he agreed, sheepishly.

"A while?" Ginny scoffed. "Try almost two years. Two years since we went out to the movies, or on holiday, or out to eat at a bloody restaurant."

"Well, I've been busy-"

Ginny held up her hand to stop him. "Oh yes, Harry, I know. You're the universe's number one Auror. No one but the famous Boy Who Lived could ever track the dark wizards half as well. Where would we be without you?" she said, viciously.

"That's not fair," he protested angrily, pointing his finger at her.

"No, what's not fair is thinking for years that it would be next Christmas, or Valentines Day, that you would propose. What's not fair is having to constantly make up excuses to my mother why we aren't married yet. Not that she'd ever bother you with questions on the subject. Oh, no. Her precious Harry is above reproach." Ginny willed the moisture in her eyes to disappear. She took a deep breath and waited for Harry to respond.

It was a moment before he did. "Your mother did ask me once. Why we weren't married, I mean." He said softly.

"Really," she asked, astounded. "What did you tell her?"

Harry looked, suddenly, like he wanted to be anywhere else but there.

"Um, well, I told her...I wasn't ready."

"I see," her jaw clenched. The angry tears returned, but she refused to shed them. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. "You're not ready to put a ring on my finger, but you'll shag me six ways from Sunday on the rug in front of the fireplace, then go home afterwards." It wasn't a question and Harry seemed to realise this. He stayed silent.

Ginny lowered herself to the sofa and put her head in her hands. Several deep breaths later she looked up to see that Harry hadn't moved a muscle, and that he was staring at his feet. Realising what she had to do now, Ginny took one last deep breath.

"Marry me, Harry." she said, her tone even; it wasn't demanding, or whinging, or pleading. His emerald green eyes flicked up to meet her brown.

"I'm...not ready for marriage, Gin." Harry replied and he sounded defeated. Slowly, he sank onto the other end of the sofa. He was just out of Ginny's reach, which probably wasn't a bad thing considering his answer.

"Why not?" she asked, trying her best to keep her tone steady.

Harry shrugged, but avoided her gaze. "I'm just not in the place where I want to be with work and I don't think starting a family would be the best idea at the moment."

Ginny threw up her hands. "Who said anything about popping out kids right now? Bering married doesn't mean you have to suddenly have kids." Harry didn't respond. "And as for your job, well, that's a load of bullocks, Harry. You run the sodding Auror department. What sort of place do you want to be in that's higher than Head of the Aurors–Minister of Magic?"

At that Harry shot to his feet. "You know I don't want that!"

Ginny shot to her feet, too. "Then stop using your job as an excuse, Harry!" Almost unbidden a thought crept into Ginny's head. She was reluctant to voice it, but felt she must. "Do you not love me anymore?"

"What?" Harry asked, flabbergasted.

"Have you fallen out of love with me? Is there somebody else?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Ginny! If there was someone else, or I wasn't in love with you anymore, why would I ask you to move in with me?

Ginny shrugged. "Guilt?"

"No," Harry shook his head. Ginny thought she saw his green eyes flash. "You know what? I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer." He took one big step in Ginny's direction and clutched her shoulders. "I love you, Ginny Weasley. I am in love with you and I want to live with you."

Ginny pursed her lips. "But you don't want to marry me." she said, meekly. It wasn't a question.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes, defeated. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and took a step back. "Not right now."

Despite her best efforts, the moisture in Ginny's eyes overflowed. "Right."

Without turning to look back Ginny strode to her front door, opened it, and stepped out into the sultry summer night. She closed the door gently behind her, though, really, she wanted to slam it shut. She wasn't sure where she was going, especially when it was almost ten thirty at night. She considered going to Ron and Hermione's. Maybe she could cry on her sister-in-law's shoulder and the bushy-haired witch could talk some sense into Harry in the morning. Ginny's feet, however, had other ideas because instead of heading off in the direction of her brother's apartment (which was pretty much around the corner) she started walking off toward Diagon Alley.

I want a drink, Ginny thought. Yes. A drink of something strong that would dull the pain of the past twenty minutes seemed in order. It was rare that Ginny drank at all (Harry didn't drink at all, so she never drank when he was around, and he was always around), but she would make an exception tonight. Actually, she was rather surprised that Harry hadn't come running after her. Perhaps he thought it best to giver her some space. A wise man, she thought. She wasn't entirely sure what she would do if she saw him right now, despite her calm getaway.

Fifteen minutes later found Ginny in Diagon Alley. The place was surprisingly busy for a Thursday night at almost eleven o'clock. A soft breeze blew past, lifting her fiery tresses around her head like a halo. The breeze caught a wooden sign post above her head and made it creak gently. Ginny looked up. The sign said Bliss. It had a wine glass that sparkled red and an arrow pointing down a narrow alley. She squinted at the sign. It was odd that she had come this way to Diagon Alley numerous times and had never seen that sign before, not even once.

Ginny sighed.

Bliss sounded like something she could use right now. She looked down at herself. Hopefully, this place Bliss didn't have a dress code like most of the other places in this part of Diagon Alley. While what she was wearing was pretty enough– tight fitting green blouse, short black skirt that showed off her Quidditch toned legs, and black leather pumps–it wasn't exactly club material. Ginny always "dressed up" when Harry came 'round. It made the visits seem less like booty-calls, and more like a date if she felt pretty and well-presented. It was with a sudden jolt that Ginny realised the opposite of that was true: dressing up in sexy clothes made it seem more like Harry was only there for the sex. Why had she never seen that before?

Pushing the thought aside Ginny made her way down the alley and stopped before the only door in sight. A large, burly man dressed all in black stood before the door with his arms crossed. He surveyed Ginny with a critical eye for several moments without saying anything. She was just about to say something nasty when the man spoke.

"Are you on the list?" he inquired offhandedly, like he didn't really care one way or the other.

"List?" Ginny asked.

"No, then." he sneered. Ginny didn't know if he was referring to this "list," or her being allowed to enter. When he made no move to let her by, she figured she was being told to sod off.

Suddenly, Ginny had an idea. She flicked her fiery curls over her shoulder and stuck out her chest slightly. "What does one have to do to get on the list?" she asked, her voice like honey. She battered her eyelashes at the man, but she doubted he would see the action in the dim light of the alley.

"Know someone who is on the list."

The voice that answered had a familiar drawl to it and hadn't come from the guard. Ginny glanced to her left, startled, and saw a figure emerge from the shadows.

"Yes," the voice drawled again, a hint of amusement in the tone. "I thought that was you, Ginny Weasley."

The man stepped into the small pool of light which emanated from the neon sign above the door to the club. Ginny's stomach plummeted when she saw the silver-blond hair, which had turned a startling shade of blue because of the sign, and silver-gray eyes were attached to none other than...

"Malfoy?" Ginny squinted, not sure if she should believe her eyes.

Draco bowed, ostentatiously. "The one and only." he replied, with a nod at the guard. "It's OK, Wolfgang, the lady's with me."

Wolfgang nodded and stepped aside. "As you say, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco gestured ahead of himself. "Please, Ms. Weasley, after you."

A rise of terror shot up her throat and Ginny was overcome with the fight or flight instinct. In the end, though, reason won out and Ginny stepped into the club. After all, it was only Malfoy and, while he was an enormous arse, he was harmless. Also, Ginny had her wand concealed on a strap attached to her upper left thigh if she felt the need to hex him. It was a trick Harry had taught her, so she could wear clothes without pockets and still be protected.

Ever the Auror, Ginny thought resentfully.

No sooner had she stepped into the club when an earsplitting wail filled her ears. She went to cover them, but found she was frozen in place and couldn't move. A bright red light was shining down upon her, almost blinding her.

Ginny let out a startled gasp. "What's happening?"

Behind her she heard Draco chuckle. "Someone's a naughty witch," he said, but Ginny didn't think it was meant to be a reprimand.

"Where's the wand, Weasley?" Suddenly, Ginny felt Draco at her back. He was close; so close she could feel his breath on her neck. A shiver went through Ginny, then, and she chalked it up to the shock of being immobile and not the crazy awesome way Draco's breathing stirred her hair behind her ear.

"Wand?" she swallowed. "Does this outfit look like it can hide a wand?"

Draco chuckled again. Ginny felt the hair on her arms stand up, and a warm sensation was beginning to spread from the pit of her stomach.

"Fair enough," Draco whispered and moved his hands to Ginny's waist. She stiffened. "But this is a wand detection spell. It wouldn't have gone off unless you had one on you."

"Fine," Ginny relented, embarrassed. "I'll get it."

"You won't be able to move again until the wand is away from you. Tell me where it is and I'll get it." Ginny thought Draco sounded entirely too amused and eager.

She hesitated a second before she said, "Upper thigh, left leg."

Draco made a noise of surprise and moved his hand slowly up to her left thigh. A second later Ginny's wand was in his grasp and she could move again. She whirled around and glared at Draco.

"Well, well, Wealsey," Draco sounded almost impressed. "Who would have thought you, of all people, would conceal a wand. Especially in a place so...interesting."

Ginny grabbed for her wand, but Draco held it up and out of her way. "I wasn't 'concealing' it! It's where I put my wand when I don't have pockets."

Draco looked very amused as he danced out of the way so Ginny couldn't get at her wand. "You know, they make skirts with pockets specifically for your wand."

"This is a Muggle skirt." Ginny replied, simply, and made another grab for her wand.

"Figures," Draco replied, disdainfully. "Regardless, you can't have wands in here. This needs to be checked if you want to stay and have a drink."

"Says who?" Ginny's hands went to her hips. "You?"

Draco nodded, "Yes, actually. Me: the owner of this fine establishment, which doesn't permit wands."

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "You own a pub?" she asked, incredulous. For a moment her wand was forgotten.

Draco looked affronted. "Bliss is not a pub! It is a fine wine and cocktail lounge of utmost reputation and class." Then a thought seemed to occur to him. Draco's eyes narrowed before he asked, "Do you even have enough money to be in a place like this? We don't sell cheap booze."

Ginny made a small noise of outrage. "Of course I do, you elitist snob!"

"Oh, that's right, I forgot." Draco said, scornfully. "You have a rich boyfriend." He walked off, leaving Ginny to trail behind him spitting with rage.

"I'll have you know, Draco Malfoy, that my money is all my own and not Harry's." Ginny said, contemptuously. Draco was behind the bar now, pulling a bottle of something off the shelf behind him. He didn't appear to be paying any attention to her.

"And besides," Ginny sniffed. "We're not together anymore."

Draco turned a disbelieving look on his patron. "Really? Since when?"

Ginny sat delicately on the high backed, leather stool in front of the bar. "Since tonight, actually."

Ginny took the silence that met her admission to have a look around the cocktail lounge. It was decorated to the nine's, of course, all leather and marble and expensive looking velvet tapestries. The place was pretty crowded, Ginny observed, and with some of the most elite London's wizarding world had to offer. There was a man playing jazz piano at the front of the lounge, elevated from the other tables on a small stage. Just about every table was full. The air was heavy with cigar smoke, jazz piano, and the smell of expensive single malt.

Ginny was brought out of her revery as the stool beside her became occupied and a flute of something was pushed into her hand.

"Well, then I say your new found freedom is worthy of a toast. Don't you agree?" Draco asked beside her and held up his glass in her direction.

Ginny eyed the liquid in her long, expensive looking flute. "What is it?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Draco smirked. "This, my love, is Krug Clos d'Ambonnay 1995. It is the most expensive Champagne in the world, at the moment. Actually, if I'm not mistaken, it's one of the most expensive Champagnes ever produced."

Ginny's mouth fell open. "How much is it a bottle?"

"You don't want to know," Draco confessed, with a wink. "Besides, you know the owner and he is giving you a glass on the house so...drink up." He clicked his flute with Ginny's and took a small sip. Draco closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. Ginny watched him, unable to bring herself to take a sip out of her own flute.

Draco noticed this and asked, "What's wrong? Tell me you like Champagne."

"I do, it's just..." Ginny blushed.

Draco set his flute on the marble counter top and regarded Ginny head on. "What?"

"What if I don't like this one?" She felt silly admitting it. She'd had other Champagnes in the past, but she was sure none of them were as good as this one.

"What's not to like? It's Champagne. It's exquisite." Draco said, as if talking to a child or a very slow person.

"Yes, but it's so expensive...what if I don't like it and you've wasted this expensive Champagne on someone who doesn't appreciate it?" She had no idea why she was making such a big deal out of the Champagne. You should just drink it and stop making an arse out of yourself, she thought.

"Ok, Ginny," sighed Draco. Neither reacted at the use of her given name. "If you don't like this...no. If you don't think this Champagne is the most mind-blowing liquid to ever pass through those plump, sultry lips of yours I will eat the bottle, glass and all."

Ginny stared at Draco. "You think my lips are plump and sultry? she asked, wondrously.

Draco shifted uncomfortably before saying, rather austerely, "Drink the fucking Champagne, Weasley."

His tone brokered no argument, so Ginny lifted the flute to her lips and, gingerly, took a sip. The explosion of flavour that assaulted her taste buds almost defied description. The Champagne was dry, yet it had an almost concentrated fruitiness to it. It tasted faintly of blackberries or maybe it was cassis. Then, there was the subtle underlying flavour of toast and roasted nuts. All this continued on for what seemed like ages. When it was gone, Ginny found she missed the taste and longed for another sip, and then another.

"Merlin's socks, this is fantastic!" Ginny cried after her third small sip.

Draco smiled widely. "I know," was all he said as he lifted his flute and took another sip.

The two sat in companionable silence for a what seemed like ages. They sipped the Champagne, Ginny too astounded with this new taste to say anything. When she was almost done Draco reached behind the bar and produced the bottle from whence the liquid sex currently in her glass had come. He topped her up without saying anything, then poured himself some more.

It was Ginny who eventually broke the silence.

"So, Malfoy, when did you open this place?"

Draco stole a glance at her over the rim of his Champagne flute. "Oh, Bliss has been here for ages. I took over management about five years ago, and the ownership about two years ago."

Ginny frowned. "How come I've never heard of it, then?"

Draco's token smirk appeared on his lips. "This place is known by word of mouth only and the mouths which speak its name aren't ones with which you would normally associate."

Ginny stiffened at the jibe. "If this place is so posh why let me in, then?"

For a moment Draco looked abashed. He recovered almost instantly, however, and curled one side of his mouth up in a lopsided grin. "Everyone, even you, Weasley, has the right to celebrate their new found freedom with class." Draco took a sip of the Krug, as if to prove his point. "Besides, with you being a Quidditch star and all you're almost good enough to be on the list."

Ginny gestured toward the front of the lounge where a table full of male Chudley Canon's were enjoying several bottles of whisky, and several very good looking girls. "There are other Quidditch players in here, Malfoy."

"Yes," Draco acquiesced, mockingly. "But none of them are Weasleys."

At that, Ginny was on her feet. "Fine, I'll be off, then, you tactless arse."

Before she could move, though, Draco's hand was on her arm. "Oh, sit down, you silly woman. Can't you see I'm just trying to get a rise out of you?" he laughed.

"Why are you such a sod?" Ginny demanded, but she sat back on the stool.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I feel compelled to act the part considering our history. Maybe this is the exquisite Champagne talking, but seeing you tonight unnerved me a bit."

"Really?" Ginny asked, her interest piqued. It had been quite a while since she'd seen Malfoy. They had both left school and then Draco seemed to disappear for a while. He had popped back up in Wizarding London about five years ago, as if he hadn't been MIA for years. Every time she saw him after that he usually had one (sometimes two) ridiculously beautiful women hanging off his arm and on his every word. Ginny doubted the women were there for his conversation, though. Anyway, she had been with Harry and hadn't thought twice about her old tormentor.

Draco took a drink, as if it would steel him for what he was about to say. "Yeah. I've been thinking about you since your last match-" he broke off at the look his redheaded companion was giving him. He arched one immaculate eyebrow in response.

"You watch my matches?" Ginny smirked.

"Well, considering the Harpies are my favourite Quidditch team...yes." Draco replied, like he didn't see what was the big deal.

"It's just...well, I never would have pegged you for a Quidditch man," confessed Ginny.

Draco's eyebrow rose again. "You do recall that I was Seeker for Slytherin for several years, right?"

"Yeah, well, I just thought..." she trailed off at the look he was giving her. "I thought that maybe your Father made you play because Harry was Seeker."

"What?" Draco looked highly insulted. "Just because of Potter? You think that bespectacled git was the reason I played Quidditch for four years?"

Ginny shrugged. "I'm just saying I would understand if he was the reason because, to be honest, you weren't very...good...at it." Draco made a loud, indelicate noise of protest. Ginny finished hurriedly, "I'm just saying, Draco."

Again, neither seemed to notice the use of given names.

"I don't know if I am more annoyed or insulted by your assumption." Draco sniffed lightly and took a sip of Champagne. "I think I am equal amounts of both. The next round is on you, Weasley." Draco gestured to a good looking woman at the far end of the bar. "Diamond, can we get some more Champagne over here?"

Ginny balked. "Not what we're drinking now! I can't afford that!"

Draco barely spared her a sidelong glance. "We'll take a bottle of Dom Perignon '96," he called to the woman, who nodded, and went through a door marked Staff Only.

Ginny bit her lip. "Will I be able to afford that?"

Draco regarded her, gray eyes cold. "You'd better be able to afford it after the insult you just bestowed upon me. My hurt feelings won't be mended with Methode Traditionelle"

Ginny had no idea what he meant, but she thought it best not to argue. Trying to change the subject she said, "You were saying that my appearance tonight unnerved you a bit?"

"Yes, I was saying as much." Draco downed the last of his expensive Krug whatever-it-was and glared at Ginny. "I was thinking that I might just invite you and Potty to my Christmas party this year, as you two are becoming quite the power couple around these parts. Everyone who is anyone comes to my Christmas parties, you know."

He paused for a moment, then smirked. "Rather, I should say you were quite the power couple."

Ginny let the dig slide and put on a dazzling smile. "How very thoughtful of you, Draco."

"Yes, well," Draco made a noise. "That's not going to happen now–at least not for the Boy Who Lived. You might still make the cut. That is, if you can manage not to insult me for the rest of the evening."

Ginny couldn't stand playing nice anymore. "You've been insulting me all night, not to mention Harry. I insult you once and you throw a fit." she accused, though she found the accusation lacked her usual venom. Perhaps the Champagne was going to her head.

"Ah," Draco pointed out, literally as well as figuratively because he jabbed his index finger into Ginny's chest. Both looked down to where his finger rested between the swell of her breasts. Draco let his hand drop. "Potter isn't your concern anymore because you two are done, right? You can't get all defensive in his honour if you're not together anymore, can you?"

Ginny realised he had a point. She and Harry were done...at least for the moment. Maybe a separation was what Harry needed in order to pull his head out of his arse and realise what a great woman he had. In any case, Harry's honour was not on Ginny's priority list at the moment. Food, however, was on the list. She said as much to Draco, partly to change the subject yet again, but also because she was very hungry having left in the middle of dinner. Twenty minutes later the two were seated at the back of the lounge in a private booth. They were sitting side by side and the table in front of them was laden with freshly baked bread, goats cheese and honeycomb, olives stuffed with feta, and various other finger foods that Ginny couldn't identify.

The insults were forgotten, at least for the moment, as the two tucked into the nibbles and finished another bottle of Champagne.

"I think you've spoilt me, Draco." Ginny confessed some time later. The two had been addressing one another by their first names since they moved to the booth.

"Why is that, Ginny?" Draco inquired around a mouthful of bread and goats cheese.

"This Champagne...what did you call it–Dom?–it's not as good as the first one."

Draco swallowed the last bit of the aforementioned wine and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose I did sort of throw you off the deep end with that Clos d'Ambonnay, but we all need to start somewhere."

Diamond appeared at their table with yet another bottle of Champagne. Draco opened the bottle and poured her some. "Now, this is another one of my favourite Champagnes. It's called Salon and it's one of the best vintages: the 1996. It's along the lines of the first bottle we had–at least as far as quality goes."

Ginny giggled. "Do you drink anything else besides Champagne?"

Draco looked at her peculiarly. "Yes, why? Are you sick of Champagne?"

"No," Ginny shook her head. "They are all fantastic. I was only wondering."

"We can switch to something else...a still red, or white. Would you like a martini?"

Ginny laid her hand on Draco's arm. "No, Draco. I love bubbles. Besides, if you're buying I'll drink all the Champagne you can pour."

"If I'm buying, huh?" Draco gave her an appraising look. "What do I get in return for my generous hospitality?"

Ginny squirmed under his scrutinizing gaze. His smokey gray eyes seemed to penetrate her skin and set her body aflame. "How about a kiss?" she suggested, jokingly.

Draco seemed to consider her offer. "It had better be a good kiss, Ginny. I've spent a lot on Champagne tonight."

Before she could think, or stop herself, Ginny leaned into Draco and covered his lips with her own. At first she applied only a gentle pressure, uncertain if he would pull away. When he didn't she deepened the kiss by running her tongue over his bottom lip. She smiled when Draco groaned and opened his mouth. Ginny went for it, then, putting all her pent up anger into the kiss: her anger at Harry for being an arse, at Draco for his insults, at herself for snogging another man on the same night she split from a ten year relationship. As if of their own volition her hands were winding themselves in Draco's hair, gently tugging on his baby fine locks. In response, Draco's hands wound around Ginny's waist and hoisted her onto his lap. She was now straddling Draco; her hands in his hair, his tongue down her throat. When they broke apart for air Ginny found that she was sitting in Draco's lap and his hands were resting on her waist underneath her blouse.

"Well," Draco sighed, his mouth against her cheek. "I think you just bought yourself another bottle of Clos d'Ambonnay, Ginny."

She shifted in his lap and grinned wickedly when he moaned. "Just one, Draco?" she purred.

"Considering I only have the two in stock," he grinned and recaptured her mouth with his, nipping her lip gently. When they broke apart after a few minutes he said, "I can get more, though."

"When did you become so sexy, Draco Malfoy?" Ginny wondered out loud. She wasn't sure if it was the Champagne, the moment, or both that was asking the question. "I remember you were such a hateful, snobby pillock in school. Never in a million years would I have snogged you back then."

Draco grinned. "People change," he said, enigmatically.

"People, maybe, but not Malfoys."

He laughed at that. "Maybe. Or maybe a decade with the same, ungrateful man has dulled your senses . You're finally awakening to what's out there; to what's waiting for you to come along and sit in its lap."

"I am in your lap, aren't I?" Ginny drawled, seductively.

"Yes," Draco nodded and squeezed her hip gently. "You are." Ginny thought he sounded almost proud of that fact.

She twisted in his lap and grabbed their flutes. She handed Draco his and raised her own. "I believe when I first came in here you promised me a toast."

"I did at that."

"Well," Ginny said and leaned in close. Her breath was hot on his neck as she whispered into his ear. "What shall we toast?"

Draco was prompt in his response. "A toast," he announced. "To new found freedom, to blind and stupid gits who don't know what they had, and to Champagne."

Ginny clicked her flute with Draco's. "I can drink to that." she replied and took a sip from her flute. When she was done she regarded the man who's lap she was still sitting upon. "You know, Draco, it's getting rather late. Perhaps you should escort me back..."

Draco's face, which had started out with his Cheshire cat-like grin, suddenly crumpled.

"...to your place." Ginny finished, with a smirk that would have done any Malfoy proud. If there was one surefire way to seriously hack off Harry Potter it would be to sleep with his nemesis, Draco Malfoy.

However, as Draco escorted her upstairs to his penthouse Ginny found she was rather looking forward to the experience...

...petty act of vengeance aside.