Diamonds On The Inside

Chapter Eight

Boundaries

I said, thank you for loving me at my worst
If this isn't love, it's very close
Can you hear the world is waking up?
And can we be crazy for a few more years,
If I've got them in me?

"Thank You" - The Whitlams

Ginny apparated into the hallway of the house, no longer caring for her father's strict rules about using magic. It was a rule that they had been disregarding more times than she cared to count. The sheer amount of times she had found the dishes washing themselves or the chocolate biscuits replenishing themselves were so numerous that even if she had cared counting wouldn't have been possible. As long as her father didn't decide to visit any time soon, Ginny didn't see any reason not to go on living with at least the smaller comforts of being a witch. Ginny's gaze fell on the calendar and she counted the days... her birthday would be fairly soon. Damn-- next week, in fact. She would have to make sure the place was magic-free before then.

"Care for a Cowboy, Ginny?" came a lazy drawl from in the lounge room.

Surprised, Ginny turned indignantly to face that way. "A what?"

"A Cowboy," Draco repeated, unperturbed. Lavender and Susan were sitting on the couch behind him, giggling.

Taking a few steps closer to the doorway, Ginny shook off her coat and hung it on a peg, glancing around the familiar room. "Do I care for a whip-cracking, horse-riding, sun-kissed country boy?" she asked, mystified. "Is that you're what you're asking?"

"No," Draco said, coming towards her. He held out a shot glass. "A Cowboy. One layer of Butterscotch Schnapps and a layer of Irish Cream on top. Want one?"

"They're really good, Ginny," Lavender insisted, sliding down the couch. Susan grabbed at her, laughing wildly. "Oww."

"Need a hand up?" Ginny asked with amusement, watching Susan struggling to pull the injured witch back up into a sitting position.

"They need more than a hand up," Draco commented dryly. "They need to go to bed. Both of them agreed to visit their mothers in the morning."

Susan's face fell theatrically. "Damn," she intoned mournfully.

Lavender joined in sleepily. "What were we thinking?"

"Bed!" Draco announced cheerfully. "It's nearly half past eleven."

"Spoilsport," Susan muttered. She got to her feet unsteadily, turning to look down at the now dozing Lavender. "Come on, Lav! You can't sleep here."

Ginny glanced down at her bag as it started to vibrate noisily. She glanced guiltily at the incapacitated girls. Draco followed her gaze and held up his hand. "I'll attend to them. You get rid of your fan club." As Ginny headed for the door he called, "And change your ring tone! Blimey, who has Greensleeves? That's so uncool. Okay, Susan, out of the way now..."

Ginny rolled her eyes and picked her phone up out of bag, answering it as she entered her bedroom and threw her bag on her bed. "Hello, Ginny Weasley speaking."

"Very professional," Seamus remarked. "Hello, this is Seamus Finnigan speaking. May I speak to the said Miss Ginny Weasley?"

Smirking, Ginny sat down on the edge of bed and glanced at the clock. "What's ailing you, Mister Finnigan, that you should call me so soon after we depart?"

"Just confirming our meeting time tomorrow," he replied smoothly. "Seven o'clock good with you?"

"Seven in the morning?" she asked, scandalised. "As if Moonfeather would be out of bed that early!"

"You never know," Seamus countered. "She might be an early riser."

Ginny snorted ungraciously.

"Alright," he said. "Let's make it nine."

"Urgh," she groaned. "Fine. But you're the one doing the talking when she answers the door in her fluffy pink dressing gown and slippers, demanding to know what fools dare disturb her at such an ungodly hour on a Sunday."

"Many people go to church," Seamus pointed out.

"Church," Ginny repeated scornfully. "The religious people say that Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest yet they get up scandalously early to go worship and socialise. How is that resting?"

"Now, now," he replied laughingly. "No need to poke fun at other methods of worshipping."

"I'm not poking fun," she said, injured.

Draco appeared in her doorway with two shot glasses in his hands. The expression on his face was mischievous as he leant against the doorframe. Ginny tried to contain her grin and glared pointedly at him. "I'm merely commenting, Seamus."

"Indeed," he replied. "Well, I'll leave you to your commenting then, shall I? I expect to see you at the Ministry at eighty forty five AM. Hannah's organising a Portkey."

"Okay," Ginny responded. "See you then. 'Bye."

"Byeeeee!" Seamus trilled.

Ginny laughed as she hung up and tucked her phone away, turning to face Draco and feeling her heart start to beat a tiny bit faster as she looked at the shot glasses he held. It infuriated her that he should make her feel that way. He was casually dressed, his hair and face relaxed as he looked at her. He held out the shot glasses, dangling them enticingly. Ginny smiled, her unease forgotten. Nothing like a drink to end a long day.

"Ready to try to ride a Cowboy?" Draco asked lightly.

Ignoring the butterflies, Ginny stood up and threw another glance at the clock before answering. "Are we going to get so drunk that I'm going to have issues getting up for an eighty forty five AM start?"

Draco seemed to consider. "Yes," he replied finally. "Most definitely."

Ginny laughed. "Excellent."

~ * ~ * ~

The room was beginning to become suffused in a warm amber glow now that Draco had turned most of the lamps off. It seemed to be fuzzy around the borders. There was a lit candle by the piano, the flicker of its flame dancing in the reflection. Ginny was lazing on the couch with Draco lying down on the floor a few paces away. Both of them had full shot glasses held up in the air, twirling them to examine the layers.

"Pretty smashing," Draco pronounced his. "You did alright, Weasley."

"Thanks," Ginny replied dryly. "Yours isn't bad either."

"Mine are always perfect," Draco replied smugly, propping himself up on his elbows. "Ready?"

"As ever," Ginny responded, lowering her eighth Cowboy for the night.

"Set?"

"Yes!"

"Sure?"

"Would you just--"

"GO!"

Quick as a flash, Draco chugged his down before smacking his lips loudly. Ginny sighed and tipped the contents of the glass into her mouth. She swallowed twice, trying to disguise it so Draco wouldn't notice.

"You don't drink it, you just throw it down!" he had instructed before. Well, she couldn't figure out how to throw them down properly so drink it she would. It had a rather pleasant taste anyway and strangely enough, it was becoming even nicer to drink as she went along.

"You're still drinking it, Ginny," Draco remarked.

Ginny looked over to see him watching her intently. She sighed irritably. "I can't do it!"

"Practise with water," he advised her. "That's how I learnt to scull butterbeer. It shouldn't touch your tongue. Straight down the throat."

"But I choke," she said, beginning to laugh and feeling the cushions on the couch moving suddenly. "Whoa--what?" She snatched helplessly at the couch, landing with a bump next to Draco on the floor. "Oww..."

He was laughing uproariously, shaking his head and slapping his knee in an absurd way.

"It's not funny," she said pathetically, throwing him a murderous glance. "The cushions are moving."

"No," he gasped out, clutching at his chest as he laughed harder. "You fell off!"

Ginny felt indignant. "I ruddy well did not!"

"Yes, you did," he replied matter-of-factly. "How else did you end up on the floor?"

Ginny gave him a dangerous look before looking at the couch. To her surprise, both the cushions were still on the couch. "Ah," she remarked. She lay down on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling. "I fear I may be getting a little squiffy."

"Just a little," Draco agreed.

"How many have you had?" she asked him.

He appeared to consider the question. "About ten Cowboys. And a beer earlier in the evening."

"So you should be really squiffy," Ginny mused.

"Squaffy, even," he said gravely. She looked at him. They both started laughing.

"I want to be back on the couch," Ginny told him

Draco looked at the couch. "Alright," he said. "I think I want to be on the couch too. Up we get." He offered her his hand. She took it and he pulled up. They stood there, swaying slightly. "Feeling dizzy, Weasley?"

"Just a little, Malfoy."

"Right." Draco rolled his eyes, tugging gently at Ginny's arm and pulling her over to the couch. He fell into a heap beside her, smirking to himself.

"What?" she asked as his smirk grew. "Tell me!"

"You make an exceedingly cute drunk, Weasley," he observed.

"Do I?"

Ginny felt as though that comment should've had some impact on her but she tossed it away carelessly. She looked at the arm of the couch, suddenly so appealing. "I'm just going to lie here a minute," she said, tucking her legs up beneath her. She lowered herself so that her head was resting against the arm of the couch and turned her head to glance back at him. "Okay?"

"Imma jus' gonna lie here a minnie?" Draco mocked her. "Slurring your words already?"

"Shaddup," Ginny replied, closing her eyes.

She lay perfectly still, suddenly aware of Draco's breathing next to her. It was perfectly controlled with one breath every three beats. She tried to match her own to it and soon gave up; her own breathing was too erratic with thoughts tumbling through her mind. Stiffening as Draco moved behind her, she sat up, conscious of his proximity. She gave him a weak smile that he returned with a lingering look. She could feel her cheeks burning and glanced away.

Draco laid his hand on her hip and it stayed there snugly, rubbing gently at the exposed skin. Ginny moved her hand to pull the back of her top down but he caught it gently, raising it to his lips and kissing the fingertips softly. He moved the necessary inch to be completely beside her, his arm snaking behind her back to rest about her shoulders. She leaned back against him, letting out another contented sigh before burping.

"Oops," Ginny giggled, covering her mouth. She could feel Draco's head moving closer to her own, his breath tickling the back of her neck. Tingles shot down her spine and she shuddered involuntarily. He stopped moving, his muscles tensing up. She turned her head to find his face very close to hers. He studied her intently, his gaze locked on hers and she returned his stare, his face blurring around the edges. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek very gently. She turned her face toward the piano again, enjoying the feel of his lips caressing her skin. He moved to her neck and began pressing repeated soft kisses up and down; along the back of her neck to the nape and up to her hairline, making her squirm. His lips drew gently back toward her face, along her jaw line until finally they were beside her mouth, where they stayed, his mouth hot against her skin.

"Draco," Ginny whispered softly, her lips millimetres from his.

"Yeah?" he replied, moving back slightly to look at her properly.

Ginny's mouth went dry as she locked gazes with him. His eyes were very dark, she noted. Were they usually dark? She couldn't remember, but they were very, very pretty...

"Well," she said, somewhat uncomfortably dropping her gaze. "It's just that I thought you didn't like me."

Draco leaned forward and kissed the corner of her mouth very gently, his eyes dancing with mirth at her question. "I don't."

Ginny froze. He didn't?

Draco caught up her hand and kissed the fingers, his eyebrows raised. "Just because we don't get along all the time doesn't mean we can't be incredibly attracted to one another, Weasley," he drawled.

"But you do like me sometimes, don't you?" she asked, her chest constricted with a fear she couldn't identify.

"Oh, yes," Draco said, leaning forward to plant another kiss next to her mouth. "I like you all the time."

Ginny's lips twisted in a smile. "Really?"

Draco didn't answer; instead, moved his hand under her chin and tilted her chin so that they were very, very close, their breaths hot between them. Ginny swallowed thickly, feeling all the moisture in her mouth disappear. He was gazing at her very intensely again. She dropped her own gaze, suddenly feeling like she wasn't drunk enough for this to happen.

"The alcohol," she whispered. "Where is it?"

Draco drew away from her and got up to fetch the bottle of Irish Cream. "Drink a little bit of this," he said quietly.

"By itself?" she fussed.

"By itself," he said firmly.

The cream cascaded warmly over her tongue, filling her mouth. She swallowed, savouring the lingering taste. "It's yummy," she said uncertainly. Draco nodded. Encouraged, she tried a little more.

"What do you like best about me, Weasley?" Draco asked, leaning back against the couch, his hands behind his head. "What turns you on?"

"Um..." Ginny blinked, the warmth in her stomach spreading quickly to her head. She couldn't remember a single thing about him. His name is Draco, she told herself firmly. And he has very pretty eyes.

"Really, is that all?" he smirked.

"I'm thinking," she said stubbornly. "You have nice eyes."

"Nice eyes?" He seemed disappointed. "You mean you don't like my manly stubble or my washboard stomach?"

Ginny was thrown. "Washboard stomach?"

"Never mind." Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm forgetting that the drink is slowing you down."

"You've had more to drink than me," Ginny pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm a boy," he retaliated. "Boys take longer to get drunk."

"A boy, are you?" she teased, gaining confidence. "A boy?"

"A boy met a girl," Draco said, his arms looping around her waist.

She put her bottle of cream down and leant against his shoulder. She could still feel the warmth in her stomach from the shots and a sweet, creamy taste in her mouth. It was as if she was at a crossroad. She could, very realistically, become sick and have to go to bed. But the lure of Draco's shoulder, the room suffused in the amber glow and a continued euphoric feeling was prevailing.

"Knut for your thoughts," Draco mumbled into her hair, his lips swooping to kiss her earlobe.

Ginny squirmed, feeling ticklish. "A knut?" she demanded indignantly, only to be met with a playful bite. "Ouch!"

"Alright," he relented, a mischievous grin playing across his face. "I'll bid up to a sickle, but no more, y'hear?"

"Oh!" Ginny shrieked in mock affront. She twisted in her seat to laughingly wag her finger at him. "I'm worth more than a sickle."

"I know," Draco said, grabbing the fingers which pointed at him accusingly. "I've noticed." He pressed the fingers to his lips, drawing her closer. Ginny could feel the blood roaring in her ears.

"You've noticed?" she repeated breathlessly, stalling, trying not to stare into the eyes that were darkening faster by the second. He kept pulling her closer still, until their faces were mere centimetres apart.

Draco looked as though he were about to say something but changed his mind. In one swift movement, he had covered the space between them and his lips were on hers. Ginny felt a tingling in her stomach that she was sure wasn't alcohol-induced. The mask of tipsy play fell away from her and she shivered, reaching her arms around Draco, cradling him close as she returned his kiss. Draco shuffled against her, tightening his grip. Their lips meshed in a delicious blend of softness, teeth, tongues... and warm, sticky Irish cream and... sweet... and sleepy kisses... and...

~ * ~ * ~

Urgh. Ginny's head pounded fiercely. She squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to block out the light that was trying to peek through her eyelids. What time was it? And where was she? She felt around gingerly, her hands finding and tracing the stitched patterns on her doona cover. She opened her eyes cautiously, figuring that she must be in her room. Sunlight flooded through a large window on the other side of the room. Ginny felt like retching as the sudden smell of butterscotch and cream invaded her senses. She groaned, rolling onto her side. Mistake.

Bam!

Ginny landed with a thump on the floor, her eyes now wide open in astonishment. She chanced a look up at her bed. Ah. It wasn't her bed after all, it was the couch. But--what? Why was she on the couch? What time was it? Was that Draco she could see, balled up in the armchair? How did she get there? What--what happened?

"It's five past nine," Draco announced from his position on the chair. "Seamus already called for you in the fire. I told him you'd be a little late."

"Five past nine!" Ginny leapt to her feet, bumping her knee on the coffee table in the process. Every single one of her muscles ached and she felt like being violently, horribly sick. She swayed, unsteady on her feet. Draco opened one eye and stared at her.

"I feel worse," he said. "Trust me."

"Blargh," she managed, slapping a hand over her mouth.

"Bucket next to the couch."

Ginny turned and grabbed it with her free hand. She tried to disguise the noise she made, glancing nervously at Draco but his eyes were firmly closed. When she was finished, she stood there meekly for a moment, feeling as though she needed some instruction.

"Pepper-Up potion on the table," Draco said.

Ginny reached out for it and slugged it back, not having even the energy to grimace at the awful taste. After a couple of seconds she felt instantly better and surveyed her surroundings with a clear head. "Is there another potion for you?" she inquired.

"No," Draco replied, his hand massaging his temple slowly. "That's the last one. Sue's bringing me one back soonish."

"Oh," she said, feeling immeasurably guilty. "Sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Draco waved a hand airily. "I've felt worse. You go upstairs, shower, do girly things then Floo to work at this ungodly hour. Now that you're awake and functioning, I'm going to bed."

"Um..." Ginny felt a little bewildered. She still didn't know how she managed to fall asleep on the couch or where her doona materialised from but somehow the clues were slowly falling into place. She felt very embarrassed. "You didn't have to put yourself out for me, Malfoy."

"I know," he replied, both eyes shut. "Hurry up, Weasley."

With a final apologetic look, Ginny left to go and shower.

~ * ~ * ~

"So sorry, so sorry, so sorry," Ginny apologised, skidding into Seamus' office. "Are you awfully mad?"

Hannah looked up from her chair, putting down the magazine she was reading. "I had to rush to get here by eighty forty five," she said pointedly.

"So did I," Seamus said.

They both raised their eyebrows at Ginny.

"I hear you were quite cosy with a certain housemate when Seamus Flooed in," Hannah giggled. Seamus joined her in her laughter.

Ginny frowned. "I was not. I was hung-over and unaware of my surroundings."

"Ah, drunkenness," Hannah said fondly. "I don't even remember the last time I got drunk."

"That's because mothers aren't supposed to drink," Seamus teased her. "Little junior in there just can't stomach it."

"Junior is obviously a spoilsport," Hannah said ruefully, touching a hand to her abdomen briefly. "I will have to teach 'em the goodness of hard liquor."

Ginny groaned quietly. "There's no goodness there," she said, pulling an ill expression.

Hannah and Seamus laughed again.

"Right, let's go," Seamus said, getting up. He pulled on a smart looking hat and strode through the door. "Hurry it up!"

~ * ~ * ~

Moon Feather lived in an extremely run-down, dilapidated old house. Her garden was a maze of herb gardens, pretty flowers and old lawn chairs. From the moment Ginny walked up the cracked stone path to the creaky wooden stairs, she felt an odd connection to the place. What is with me and old houses lately? Ginny wondered. Perhaps her subconscious was telling her to hurry up and buy an old house of her own to do up. It was what she'd wanted to do for a very long time. The sooner this little post-war project was over, the better! ... Though that could take years.

Seamus knocked sharply on the glass of the front door. Hannah hummed tunelessly. Ginny smoothed down her jacket, checking quickly for lint and fluff. The door opened.

"Who are you?" a woman with frizzy brown hair, a sparkly black dressing gown and hot pink slippers asked suspiciously.

"Er..." Seamus was momentarily stunned. "M-Moon Feather, I presume? I mean... Mrs. Geraldine Featherstone?"

The woman folded her arms, looking from Seamus to Ginny. "Who wants to know?"

"My name is Seamus Finnigan, and this here is Hannah Abbott-Longbottom and Ginny Weasley," Seamus introduced them. "We're from the British Division of Investigation."

"I see," the woman said. "Well, yes, I am Geraldine Featherstone. Ms, though, not Mrs. How can I help you?"

"We're interested in any details that you might have about an unofficial examination you performed on the body of Harold Jenkins, arranged by David Bryson," Ginny spoke up.

"Oh, Dave's case..." Moon Feather said quietly. "My... my partner, Ashton, knows Dave's father very well. They thought I might be able to tell them what happened to Harry Jenkins, but..." She shrugged. "I can't."

"Oh," Seamus said, sounding disappointed.

"Dave said that you made some preliminary comments about the energy surrounding the body," Ginny said, trying to encourage Moon Feather to talk. "You had suspicions about negative energy, perhaps sourced from shamanism or druidry; is that right?"

"Oh, no," Moon Feather said, looking startled. "My partner practises shamanism. I didn't say where I thought it was sourced from!"

"Ms. Featherstone," Hannah said patiently. "We're not accusing you or asking for your opinion on these religions. We were hoping you could clue us into what you thought was going on with the body and what you advised Bryson to do."

"Are you friends of his?" Moon Feather asked guardedly.

"Yes," Ginny said. "I consider him to be a very good friend of mine."

"Okay," Moon Feather said. "Your aura is very bright, miss, so I believe you. Well, look; I did feel some very strong vibrations from the body and I was worried for awhile, but after much meditation and reflection, I've learnt that the matter is not what I thought it was."

The three exchanged looks.

"What did you think it was?" Seamus asked curiously.

"I thought it was a murder performed by someone harbouring a great vindictiveness for the deceased," Moon Feather replied, leaning against her doorframe. "However, I have applied to various divining methods and have realised that it is not my fate to learn what truly happened to Jenkins. All the signs prevent it. I get nothing shown to me. It is not a truth for me to learn at this time."

"So you're not at all sure what happened to Jenkins?" Ginny asked.

"Not an inkling," Moon Feather said firmly.

"And you don't want to know at all?" Seamus inquired.

"It is not my path," Moon Feather affirmed. "I had a vision of some young people solving it and bringing peace to the young Bryson. I don't know who it was," she added, "but I remember vividly a flash of red hair, so it's quite likely to have been you, missy." She pointed a finger at Ginny. "You will solve the mystery, not young Dave."

Ginny suddenly felt like all the answers to her problems had been handed to her on a silver platter. "Did... did you tell Dave this?" she asked.

"Not yet," Moon Feather admitted. "I wasn't really planning to; I didn't want to meddle. Do you think I should tell him?"

"Yes," Seamus said quickly, glancing at Ginny. "Yes, you definitely should. He is spending an unhealthy amount of time on this case; we're all quite concerned for him."

"Yes," Hannah chimed in, adopting a concerned expression. "It's really affecting him and he isn't getting anywhere. We'd like to alleviate the stress placed on him at the moment, which is why we're enlisting the help of a family friend." She paused. "You."

"That's right," Ginny agreed. "It's been so hard on him."

"I see, I see," Moon Feather said, looking very concerned. "Well, I must help you in whatever way I can. I'll invite young Dave and his father around at once and see if I can't persuade him to take a bit of a rest from the case."

"Oh, would you?" Ginny asked. "That'd be such a relief, Ms. Featherstone. I feel like I could achieve so much on the case when Dave isn't stressed." Ginny's mind flew back to Draco, smirking at her as Dave carried her up the path. She pushed the memory away. "He just needs a good break!"

"He most certainly does," Moon Feather said. "As I said, I will see to it at once. Thank you so much for taking me into your confidence like this; I will see that Dave is properly looked after." She waited for a moment, glancing from one face to the next. "Er... is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Not at all," Seamus said hurriedly. "Thank you so much for your time, Ms. Featherstone. If you could just remember to emphasise to Dave that we will take on the case for him..."

"Yes, yes," Moon Feather agreed affably.

"Excellent, thank you so much," Ginny said gratefully.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Featherstone," Hannah said, extending a hand.

~ * ~ * ~

Draco was bent over the stone birdbath in the front garden, gloved hands scrubbing furiously. Ginny watched from the verandah, bemused, as he wrung a rag over a bucket of water.

"Malfoy," Ginny said, coming down the steps. "Whatever possessed you?"

Draco looked up, a slow smile spreading over his face as she came to a halt beside him. "Cleaning," he said innocently. "How about you?"

"Just got home," she replied warily, eyeing the half-clean birdbath.

"Ah," Draco said. "Work. How was it?"

"Eh," Ginny replied, flopping into one of the garden chairs. "Good, really. We got the answers we needed; enough to throw Dave off the scent, so..."

"Ah, right," Draco said, nodding. He'd been fully informed about Ginny's case the previous night. "That's good to hear; you'll be able to close that case up soon."

"Yeah," Ginny said thoughtfully. "I suppose I will." She watched him scrub. "How's your work going?"

"Very well," Draco said, scrubbing away. "I'm much better at untraceable potions now so I can slip them into dosages more easily."

"Dosages for who? The war victims?"

"Yes," he said. "It's been hard, having 'more experienced' Muggle chemists peering over my shoulders every five seconds but I've got it sussed now. Veiling charms are extraordinarily useful."

"They certainly are," Ginny agreed. "So... are you thinking about heading home soon?"

"Home?" Draco shot her a strange look. "This is my home."

"Um, yes," Ginny said, feeling flustered. "But, er, I thought maybe you'd head back to the wizarding world to visit people at some stage. Um--family, or..."

Draco stared at her, an unreadable expression on his face. "No," he replied eventually. "My mother is dead, my father is missing and I dislike my distant relatives. You already knew all that, Weasley. Why are you asking?"

"Oh," Ginny said, feeling extremely uncomfortable. "Well, I thought you might have, er, some special friends..."

Draco raised his eyebrow. "A special girlfriend, perhaps?"

"Oh, maybe," Ginny said, attempting to laugh it off. "Close friends, girlfriends, friends you play pool with on a Tuesday night."

Draco smirked. "Cute," he said. "But no. I have no current plans to visit anyone."

Ginny couldn't quite identify the rush of emotion that came at his words. Was it pleasure? Or pity? "Ah," was all she said.

Draco regarded her for a few moments longer before tossing her a small rag. "Get scrubbing and make yourself useful."

A minute later, Lavender started yelling out the lounge room window. "You've been scrubbing that bloody thing for ages! Me and Suze have made Devonshire tea if you want any!"

"Sweet Merlin, I am not missing that," Draco declared, standing up. He held out a gloved hand to Ginny, helping her up. "Come on, Little Miss Ginny. It's time to stuff ourselves full of scones."

"Little Miss Ginny?" Ginny asked bemusedly, following him up the stairs.

"Thought it suited you," he replied, holding open the door for her. "Like that Muggle thing, y'know; we sell the plush toys at work..."

"Huh?"

"You know. Little Miss Crabby, Little Miss Bossy, Little Miss Weasley..."

"Oi!" she exclaimed, thumping him.

"Oooof."