Normality

If Clarissa had been surprised at the sight of her usually responsible flat mate, who was currently pissed off her face, she didn't show it.

Instead, she escorted Ginny into her bedroom, thanked the tall wizard who had so dutifully dropped her home, and changed Ginny, with some difficulty, into her boring striped pajamas.

It wasn't, however, until Ginny began to yell the Afghani national anthem that Clarissa wondered whether things were all right.

"How'd you learn that?" she asked, devoid of anything more interesting to say.

Ginny shook her head and promptly started humming greens leaves (the fore- mentioned "ice-cream truck song").

Clarissa sighed as she gently pushed Ginny into bed and pulled up the covers. She was on her way out of the door when she heard a small voice calling from underneath the mountain of bed covers.

"I used to have a crush on the famous Harry Potter."

Clarissa sighed again. She knew...everybody in the wizarding world did. Ginny, however, had never quite realized this fact, and mistook (in her current state) Clarissa's look of extreme exasperation to be a look of complete interest.

"Yah-huh..." she said seriously, "I liked him the way a chipmunk likes...well chips."

Clarissa bit back the urge to say "Really, Ginny? Chipmunks like crisps? And here I was all along thinking they had a passion for nuts...bad Clarissa."

Instead she looked at Ginny and said in a controlled voice, "Oh...uh, how interesting."

"Then he saved me...he beat that great snake up alright."

For the first time Clarissa took some interest. She had heard brief mentions of the whole 'Harry saved Ginny' thing, and quite frankly she was eager to hear the whole story.

"I know!" said Ginny still involved with her one-person conversation. "Mean old Tom."

Now there are two kinds of people in relation to how they treat drunken people. The first is always caring. They refuse to listen to their friends as they spill their most innermost secrets...and of course, tuck them into bed. The second is extremely devious. They pry into their friend's private life shamelessly collecting information that can be used against them at a later point.

Clarissa was of the second nature.

"What did Tom do?" she asked in a caring sort of voice.

"Tom was bad...he made me bad, too," replied Ginny mock seriously.

"How was he bad?"

"He wrote to me...I had a crush on him, too." At this, she giggled before slipping off into unconsciousness.

Leaving a very dissatisfied Clarissa behind.

So far all she had managed to pry out of Ginny, was that there was a mean guy called Tom...who was also bad, and somehow he had managed to corrupt Ginny by writing to her...

Sighing in defeat, she turned off the light and strolled back to her room.

Gee Ginny...she thought, looking over at her drunken friend. Rodger's must have been some party.

Clarissa's room was pretty much the complete opposite to Ginny's. Instead of being pretty and frilly, it was tough and modern. Without the influence of a large, caring (and slightly odd) family, Clarissa was hard around the edges. It was her life, and she was quite prepared to live it that way.

Her room was in a sort of square shape, and long ago Clarissa had decided to match her accessories to fit into the pattern. Her bed was large and plain, with a dark red bedspread. Ginny often tried to convince Clarissa to bewitch it to change colors- or to glow slightly. Clarissa always flatly refused.

Next to the bed was a large walk-in cupboard as well as a silvery, glass topped coffee table that Clarissa used as a bedside table.

She was also blessed with having the only room with an on suite. This arrangement had come solely from the fact that Clarissa earned more, and there forth contributed more to the apartment.

Any sane person might have found a richer roommate, someone who could have helped her cause more financially. Clarissa, however, liked Ginny, and refused to share a flat with someone who in her words 'was a hyped-up, egotistical monster, which earns more than they deserve.'

Besides, no one had ever called Clarissa 'sane.'

Muggle born, she insisted on having a T.V. At first Ginny had been skeptical ("Seriously! What normal wizard has a 'Tele-ka-vision.' ") But Clarissa had persisted, and now they were the proud owner's of a large screened Television. Ginny had even come to love it...that is, love the shows about home-care and documentaries. Clarissa had once even caught her watching the soaps.

Wish I were at Rodger's...sighed Clarissa, turning the T.V to a show on the B.B.C. Imagine the hot-guy lawers-mmmmmmm, flings.

Besides, Clarissa had a pennant for getting thoroughly pissed.

* * * * *

Draco, in much the same fashion as Ginny, managed to get hopelessly pissed that night. His brandy had also doubled up as a sort of headache and memory cure. For the first time in a while he even managed to forget.

Of course, like Ginny he woke up the next day with a headache so bad it threatened to overwhelm him.

Struggling out of bed, as soon as his wand began its usual routine of playing popular wizarding music at precisely 7am, Draco almost fell to the floor as his sheets tangled up around his ankles.

"Bloody hell," he muttered.

He was hungover, pissed off and what was worse, he was expected to contact Dirk Stevens this morning for information on businesses that were up for sale.

The situation only became worse after he struggled into the kitchen to find Lorenda, his long suffering cleaner and general home help, sitting in his kitchen raiding his cereal cabinet.

"Morning Drakie," she said in a voice so cheerful it was on the verge of being illegal.

"Hi," he said shortly.

"Well aren't we Mr. Cheery-chops this morning."

"Do you like your job?"

Lorenda raised an eyebrow, still managing to look painfully happy, then shrugged and continued to munch loudly on her cornflakes. "Can you possibly stop eating all my cereal? I had a girl over here the other day...she wasn't able to eat her preferred morning breakfast of oatmeal thanks to a certain house-keeper that shall remain anonymous."

"Can I have a hint?"

"Alright...It starts with a L and ends with O-renda."

"I can't possibly think who you are referring to. Besides...as if you even care about this girl and her cereal choice anyway. Can you even remember her name?"

"Uh. Yes. Umm.... Can I get back to you?"

Lorenda having finished her cereal stood up and gave Draco's hair an affectionate ruffle before heading into the kitchen to start washing up.

Draco sighed watching her as she left, then got back to hacking into his apple with a blunt knife. Being rich, he considered it beneath him to use his mouth.

"So what's this I hear about you business hunting, hmm?" Lorenda called from her perch in the kitchen.

"How come whenever something bad happens to me you're always the first to know?"

"Let's just say dating your father's butler has its possibilities. Besides, I want to always be the first one pointing at you saying 'Hah'."

"Your dating Alfistine?" Draco gasped staring incredulously at her. "But he's like, 78 years old."

Lorenda rolled her eyes. "He's only 50 dumbarse. As that's only 10 years older than me, I'm sure I can make some allowances."

Draco checked his watch scowling.

"As much as I'd like to stay and chat about you dating a dinosaur, at the moment I am emotionally disturbed by the thought of you and good 'ole Alfie together and I also have an interview to attend. This is where I leave you...Aurevoir."

"Can't you just say 'Toodles' like a normal person?"

"If a tree falls in the woods and there's nobody around to hear it, does it make any noise?"

"Oh, be gone...you little fiend."

Draco winked rakishly as he brought out his wand and Apparated with a pop.

"You son of a gun," called Lorenda after him, not quite knowing what it meant.

* * * * *

Draco reappeared with another loud pop in front of a stylishly designed building, deep in the heart of Hogsmeade.

Hurrying up the bronze steps, as he was running drastically late for his interview, Draco tried as hard as possible to concentrate on keeping his carefully slicked back hair neat.

Finally after what seemed like a century he arrived at the top of the stairs. Only then it occurred to him that he could, and should have, Apparated.

Glaring resentfully at the stairs, he started to push open the heavy glass doors. After a moment, he paused and then just to show he could, Apparated inside.

His first impression was certainly a bright one. The walls and ceiling were painted a bright canary yellow, and the furniture was orange. Draco suspected the coloring was a weak attempt at cheering up the un-employed.

"Can I help you?" asked a cheery voice that matched the décor.

Draco spun around and came face to face with the blonde he had spoken to the previous evening. He noticed she was extremely pretty, with her long, shiny hir and red lips.

"Yes. I have an appointment with Mr. Stevens at nine?" Draco tried as hard as possible in his present tired state to act debonair.

"And your name?"

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

For some reason the receptionist found this decidedly amusing.

"What?" asked Draco annoyed.

"Bond. James Bond," she replied in the same tone as Draco.

Now Draco had never heard of this Bond fellow, but he was pretty sure this cocky receptionist was mocking him. If there was one thing Draco hated, it was to be made fun of.

Glaring ferociously at her, he said in the shortest tone he could possibly manage, "Look. Have I missed my appointment or what?"

"No sir," the receptionist answered in a more professional tone, "If you would care to sit for a moment, Mr. Stevens will see you soon."

Draco spun around and marched over to a large orange sofa. He glanced over at the blonde then narrowed his eyes. She was giggling again.

Draco sighed and picked up the only magazine on the small table next to him. To his utter disgust, it happened to be Witch Weekly. Flipping through it, his attention was caught by a large, glossy picture in the center of the Magazine.

He immediately recognized Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Potters little sidekicks...The Weasel and the Mudblood. Scowling, he noticed the small blurb attached to the photo. His scowl only worsened when he read what had been written.

***Love at Second Sight***

Any sane person, who has ever seen Dr. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley together, would never doubt the perfection of the pairing. It seems the best friends of Harry Potter finally have received the security they have so long fought for.

"It wasn't easy..." admits Ron, a grin spread among the freckles adjourning his face, "Truthfully, if somebody had told me back in fifth year that I would end up marrying 'Mione, I would have shipped them off with a one way ticket to St. Mungo's."

"You fought a lot then?" I asked, watching the expressions of glee filling their faces.

"Like Cat and Dog," laughs Hermione, as Ron playfully punches her arm. A more serious tone is created however, when Ron comments off handedly, "And then there was always the issues with the war and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"It must have been horrendous, trying to grow a relationship with that hanging over your heads. I can imagine the pressure you must have been under."

Hermione nods in agreement, and Ron places a hand carefully around her shoulders. It is immediately clear that they have come through their heartaches stronger than ever.

To lighten the mood, Ron, always the joker, asks in a playful tone, "So...want to know what color Pj's Harry wears?"

Laughing I assure him, I do not (although I'm guessing a number of 'Witch Weekly' readers will be after my blood tomorrow.)

Hermione turns to face Ron, with a look of concern mingled with passion and love. At that moment WW's Photographer, Colin Creevy snaps their photos. As you can see in this interview, and of course by the picture, Ron and Hermione have certainly discovered Love at second sight.

***Sadie Mayley, Staff Reporter. Hermione and Ron will be married on March 20th, in Paris. For more information on Harry Potter, turn to page 16, for "Potter files," an in-depth look at Harry's more personal life.***

Draco felt as if he could throw up. Any attempts were thwarted however, by 'the Blonde' (as Draco had dubbed her) calling out, "He will see you now...second Corridor to the left."

Standing up sharply, Draco wasted no time in saying good-bye and stormed off down the corridor. That little 'Potter and Friends" shit had really dampened his mood.

The corridor was long and thin, and when Draco finally reached the appointed door, he took a long, deep breath to calm him self slightly.

After he had decided that he was fit for human contact, he swung open the door and took in his surroundings.

At a large desk in front of him, sat a dark haired, middle-aged wizard. Upon seeing Draco enter, he motioned to the seat in front of him, and smiled warmly.

"Good afternoon Mr. Malfoy. Please take a seat."

Draco sat down, and smiled wryly at whom he presumed was Mr. Stevens.

"Good morning Sir," he replied.

"So young Draco, I hear you're out to buy a company?"

"That's right."

"May I ask what profession you are interested in?"

Drano considered his answer carefully. He hadn't really thought about what sort of company he should buy. Most of his worries had been based on what would happen if there was nothing to buy.

"Can you give me a general idea of what's up for sale?"

"Well...we have a shoe company, and then there's always the Wand suppliers- you know? The big deal?"

Draco nodded his head, bored. None of those companies seemed remotely interesting to him.

"Got anything else?"

"Well...not much, aside from 'Spellbound", you know? That small travel agency...its in deep shit though. Not really the greatest investment."

Draco perked up at the sound of traveling. He was curious straight away.

"What's seems to be the trouble with this agency?"

Mr. Stevens looked at him quizzically, he obviously couldn't understand why anyone would be interested in a broke company. Shrugging, he replied, "Well, its pretty much been swamped by bigger companies. Their boss, Franklin, is very old fashioned. He's pretty much tried to keep up with the traditional ideas. The problem is that, everyone knows about these ideas. Its nothing new...people just aren't interested anymore."

"But if they tried something new?"

"There isn't really much to try...They've made their holiday plans bigger, added special deals to Hawaii. What else can they do? If luxurious holidays don't sell...what will?"

"Something new."

Mr. Stevens gave Draco an annoyed stare. Draco, however, was too far lost in his thoughts to care.

Why was it so necessary for a travel agency to sell luxury holidays? When he had traveled around the world, most people he had met were perfectly content to camp under the stars. In fact, Draco had only met a grand total of six people, in all his four rough years, which preferred to be sun baking in a hotel.

The wheels in his head were turning rapidly. Lucius had said he must build up a company, and if he was expected to make something resembling shit into a multi-million dollar corporation, he may as well do at least something he knew...and liked.

That said if there was thing Draco knew like the back of his hand, it was traveling rough. He still kept a journal about the amount of times he had slept on a rock, or in a small, rough visiting home in Nepal. Yep, Draco was the expert on the hard life...and he was sure a majority of the wizarding world was too. He decided to take a risk.

"So is the traveling thingy still up for sale?"

"Sir...I really think you're making a mistake. The company is dead. It has no money in it."

"Well, I have money to invest."

"It's not just that! Even if you did have to money, the idea is old. Nobody cares about a small struggling business, especially one that several other companies can beat--with much cheaper deals."

"Well what if I used a different idea? A different tactic?"

"Sir- I'm serious, there's nothing that can be done."

"Well then, I am willing to take that risk. I have money to invest and nothing to lose."

Mr. Stevens stared at Draco incredulously. He obviously couldn't believe the nerve (and utter stupidity) of the man standing in front of him.

"It's up to you, of course. However, sir, I strongly suggest against it."

"I take heed of your warning, but you must understand--I really have nothing to lose."

"It's your call, sir." He had finally given up. "Please sign this form, stating that if you, Draco Sebastian Malfoy, fail in business, we hold no responsibility."

After a long exchange with Franklin, via floo, and a million forms later, Draco stood up abruptly.

"When can I be expected at my new company?"

"On Wednesday sir."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Stevens. It has been a pleasure doing business with you."

Draco stood up, tipped his hat, and headed for the door.

"Just out of curiosity..." called Mr. Stevens, after him.

"Yes?"

"What exactly are you planning on doing to this business?"

"Actually I want to turn it into a travel agent for extreme tours...you know, back-packing in Nepal, swimming with crocodiles in Australia. I may even add in some broomstick jumping on the Niagara Falls...well, Toodles."

Mr. Stevens was gob smacked as he watched Draco saunter out the door.

* * * * *

-Wednesday- i.e. the day Draco goes to see his 'investment.'

Ginny sat on her desk rubbing her head.

After the incident that other night, she had sworn off alcohol forever.

She had tried to work up the enthusiasm to say a bright 'Hi' to Franklin, who for once in a long, long time looked happy. But grumpy as she was, Ginny could only manage a weak grunt.

She sighed heavily as she tried to file the tax that several employees had yet to pay. The numbers swarmed in front of her eyes, however, and she felt extremely dizzy.

*Maybe I'm just getting my period...or it could be pre-birthday stress.*

For it was Ginny's twenty-sixth birthday tomorrow. She suspected she may have been depressed, because now she was closer to thirty, than to twenty.

Wincing as she cut her hand on an envelope for the second time, she tried to think positive thoughts. She really wasn't looking forward to going to 'The Burrow' tomorrow.

Sure, it was big and warm and fuzzy--blurry around the edges, but really, was that a good thing or a bad thing? For someone like Ginny, who spent at least three hours a day pretending to be normal, it was not that much of a great thing visiting somewhere as unusual as 'The Burrow'.

She wondered what 'exciting' surprise her family had devised for her this year? She hated having a birthday so close to Christmas...people were always so 'happy-go-lucky.'

"Ginny, can you file this please?" A cheery voice cut through her thoughts. Glancing up, she noticed Franklin standing next to her desk, jumping on one foot.

-Guess he's still rather happy.

"Oh, and I'm expecting an important visitor today- please floo around and make sure everyone keeps their offices tidy."

"Who?" asked Ginny, intrigued.

"Oh--that's a surprise!"

Ginny shrugged and rolled her eyes. Franklin was usually more practical than this.

"So do you-" But it was to late. Franklin had already hopped off down the hall.

Sighing, Ginny got out her floor powder and chucked it into the small, business fire.

"Hello, Linda? Franklin has an important visitor coming later..."

"Really?" replied Linda's head.

"Yup. Can you pass it on?"

"Sure, got any idea's to who it might be?"

"No idea."

"Hmmm....oh well, ciao, Bella."

"Good-bye to you too, little misses Italian!"

She then cut off the line, and chucked some more powder in. After messaging another 4 people, Ginny assumed that by the end of the hour, everyone would know.

With nothing else to consume her time, Ginny fidgeted in worry, wondering whether this mysterious visitor could be the answer to all their problems. It seemed odd to now worry about someone who could save them--in truth, Ginny was more comfortable with worrying about them failing. It least that was definite.

Deciding it was better to block it all out, she decided to focus back on the taxes. This was what she was doing two hours later, when the mysterious visitor, dropped in.

She could hear Franklin as footsteps sounded lightly down the hallway, explaining to the M.V (Ginny's decided nickname for 'Mysterious visitor') about how their offices ran. Ginny's heart was uplifted immediately. It sounded like this person had every intention of buying their company.

"And this is, Linda, our Brochure manager and occasional writer."

"How do you do?" came Linda's voice. Ginny's nerves were now mounting alarmingly. Linda's office was just two doors down the corridor from her own.

"This is Mick, our Junior Intern, and Sally, our junior staff reporter."

-Shite. Shite. Shite.

"This office is where my personal assistant works. Actually, you could say she lives here. Very good employee--valuable to the company."

The door swung open, and immediately Ginny's carefully practiced smile, dropped straight from her face.

Standing in front of her was someone tall, someone handsome. He had blonde hair slicked back from his face, the same cold, gray eyes she had always remembered, and of course, the trade mark smirk.

-Malfoy!

"Mr. Malfoy, it is a pleasure to introduce you to your new personal assistant, Ginny Weasley."

Ginny just about fainted. She was expected to be personal assistant, to *him*.

*** "Oh, if it isn't Potter and his little wanna-be girlfriend 'Weasel."

"Shut up Malfoy..."

Harry had always been ready to leap to Ginny's defense. Pity he would have done it for anyone.

"Oh sorry...my mistake. I thought you despised her." ***

"Nice to meet you again, Miss Weasley." The smirk was all over his face, and Ginny could see his eyes laughing at her discomfort.

"S-s-ame to you, M-Mr. Malfoy."

*** Ginny had been walking down a corridor, when rough hands pushed her to the ground. "Watch where you're going, you little brat." Malfoy smirked at her, before pushing roughly passed her--stopping, of course, to kick her books to the floor.***

Franklin was looking very confused. Ginny assumed that he was amazed to see his star employee stuttering over anything...or anyone.

Ginny sighed. Seems she was going to calling a lot of sick days in the near future.

* * * * *

Draco stood at the entrance of Spellbound, staring at the doors.

Was he ready to make that step? Would he be a success? Thoughts flitted throughout his head and he tried to muster up enough courage to enter the bronze plated doors.

All it took was three little steps, but could he do it? It was a decision that had to be made, and quickly. Draco had an appointment with the likable manager of Spellbound in three minutes to discuss the future of the company.

-You want this. No you need this. Draco told himself firmly. -Take the step.

A memory was jolted into his mind. His thoughts were a repeat of somebody very influential.

*** She ran a finger up his spine. She knew that would win him over.

"Draco...you can do it, Baby."

"You don't understand."

"Oh...but I do. I know you. I told you I did, didn't I?"

"Oh, you do now?" It was a light banter. A weak attempt to avoid the inevitable.

"Yes, Draco, I do. You're running from him, you're scared. But I love you. Can't you see how much I do? Is this crusade of my heart something to take lightly? Will you abandon me so painfully?"

"You know I love you."

"Then write the letter Draco, take the step to ensure our future."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. You want this, Baby. No, you need this..." ***

Draco shook his head, like a dog coming out of water. The memory stung, cut him deeper than any insult could. Then again, the heart is always easier to break than any bone.

Scowling, he made up his mind. He strode purposely to the door and swung them open.

The corridors were light and airy, different doors leading into small, but cute offices, filled with working employees. Draco had been instructed by Franklin to take the first right at the end of the entrance hall and continue to the end. He followed the instructions down two more corridors. On the way he passed a small kitchen filled with a small party of gossiping Witches, a company lounge and a large meeting room. The company was certainly a big one. Upon reaching the end of the second corridor, he found himself standing in front of a large office with a gold plated sign reading, "F.E. Smith, Company Director."

He knocked sharply on the door, and waited a moment before Franklin's deep voice called, "Come in."

Swinging open the door, he stepped inside a large office. There was colorful pot plants scattered around, several with large luminous flowers. On the walls hung pictures of exotic holiday situations and well as a few framed advertisements. The back wall behind the large Mahogany desk was filled almost completely with a large window, and Draco could see Diagon Alley twisting around outside.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," came Franklins voice, cutting through his observations. He was sitting at his desk, arms folded, staring at Draco.

"Same to you, Mr. Smith."

"Please, call me Franklin."

"Ok, and please call me Draco."

"Alright, now that's sorted. Please take a seat Draco."

Draco sat down at the plush chair situated in front of the desk, folding his arms into his lap.

"Ok...I'm afraid I might be a bit rusty at this. I haven't introduced anyone to this company for, well, I guess never. It was handed down to me from my father and to him from his father. You can see how this is hard for me."

Draco nodded reassuringly. He was a complete prick to most people, but Draco did know how to work the charm when it was required, and in this situation, it was definitely needed.

"I can see how this will be difficult for you. Let me assure you that I have no plans to tear down this company. I plan on nurturing it...not selling it like a scrap of meat."

-That is, at least until I have my money. Then I probably will.

"And I'm glad for it. Well, Draco, I guess I should give you a more detailed outline of what our company does. I know Mr. Stevens did explain some of it to you, but there's those tiny little technical troubles that need to be sorted out."

"Shoot away." Draco smiled winningly.

"Right well, basically our company advertises holidays requested by the client. We only opt for the best, so usually before we can recommend a place, we have somebody Apparate over there to check it out. Once we are satisfied that it had a good deal and all the paper-work is sorted, we are able to advise our Clients to travel there."

"And transportation?"

"We also have to organize portkeys--for the younger witches and wizards, as well as Apparations points. It wouldn't do to just have a wizard pop up in the middle of a beach somewhere."

"And the nature of the holidays?"

"Generally we go for the luxury approach. Hawaii, Bali, Cairns...the works."

Draco frowned. It would be hard to convince Franklin of his decided alternative.

"But these Holidays haven't been selling lately?"

"Well...we're not entirely sure it's the holidays. Its just the competition, Travel world, has ripped down several small companies. It's like a business monster. They have the money and the power to offer cheaper deals than us, as well as several new locations. We just can't compete in that anymore, that why I'm hoping your financial backing will come into play."

Taking a deep breath, Draco decided to drop the bombshell. "Mr. Smith,"

"Please, call me Franklin, Draco."

"Franklin, although my backing could be useful to your company, it won't be enough. We still won't be financially up to the competitors and eventually they will bring you down."

"But..."

Draco silenced him then continued. "If we want more popularity, you're going to have to take a different approach."

"I don't see how!"

"Imagine this scenario. An engaged couple, which want to see the world before they tie themselves down to a long and tiring marriage... Will they want to go to Bali? Fiji? No! That's what the honeymoon is for. They're going to want something adventurous...daring. The other companies may offer these sorts of holidays--in limits, but truthfully if you advertised a camping expedition to Romania, you won't get much competition."

"But..."

"And a older married couple. They want to get away from the kids for a while, but where to go? The beach? But they could take the kids to the seaside at anytime. What they really need is a break. Imagine a cottage on the peak of the wilderness. Hiking, privacy...no troubles with huge resorts that suck the life out of you...they will have space. With this kind of holiday, you can prey on any age group."

Franklin was nodding now, although he seemed reluctant, he was slowly accepting Draco's idea's.

"I can see where this is going. I just...I--What if it doesn't work!"

"You have nothing to lose."

"Yes but--I would possibly like to gain something."

"Franklin, I am willing to any terms you can offer."

"But-"

"What if I bought the company off you, instead of just backing it?"

"I don't know...it really is a family business."

"Do you have kids?"

"Just a girl, but she's much more interested in becoming a Medic-witch than running some stuffy old company."

"Then where will it go anyway?"

Franklin was looking very stressed now, and although Draco was ecstatic to be breaking thought to him, the slightly humane side of his felt a tiny bit guilty.

"How much?"

"Pardon?" Draco had not expected him to cave so easily.

"How much are you willing to pay for the company?"

Draco considered his saving account. Grabbing a piece of paper from the pile in front of him, he scribbled down a number and passed it to Franklin.

Lets just say Franklin, almost jumped out of the window in happiness.

"Do we have a deal?" asked Draco cooly.

"We have a deal."

He reached over to firmly shake Draco's hand.

"Welcome to the company. Let me show you around."

Fifteen minutes later.

Franklin had already pointed out to Draco the kitchen and the lounge as well as the copy room and various meeting rooms. Now they were walking along the office rows, and Franklin was introducing Draco to various members of his staff.

Finally they reached the last row of offices. This one had four lined up in a row. The first door was the office of the companies Advertising Executive, Sam Spendle. He seemed like a nice sort of guy...Draco hated him instantly.

After forcing a smile on his face for several minutes, Franklin led him next door

"And this is Linda, our Brochure manager and occasional writer."

Laura seemed all right. She was a pretty sort of girl with her haired pinned back, and a quill tucked behind one ear.

"How do you do?" She asked smiling brightly, hand out stretched.

Draco smiled at her charmingly, and shook took her hand in his. Linda blushed and Draco's smile grew wider. He did so enjoy seduction...

Franklin however apparently did not, as he quickly ushered Draco out the door and into the next smaller office. Two desks were situated on opposite sides of the room, and a young woman was sitting on the nearest one, with a slightly older looking man. Franklin interrupted her in the midst of explaining tax to her collogue, to introduce them to Draco as Mick and Sally, the junior interns of the company.

They seemed quite frankly, terrified of Draco, as they muttered 'hello' very quietly. Draco nodded curtly at them. He wanted to keep and nurture that fear, to improve the work rate of his employee's.

He indicated to Franklin that they should move on, so Franklin led him out of the room, only stopping to compliment Sally on her theories on tax.

The next office was quite big. Franklin explained this as they approached it.

"This office is where my personal assistant works. Actually, you could say she lives here. Very good employee--valuable to the company."

He then swung open the door, his hand covering the label of whom the office actually belonged to.

Draco first impressions of the office were, to say the least 'Neat.' Everything was in order from the color co-ordinate pot plant to the stacks of neatly labeled files. If Draco had ever been able to see the person who ran this office's underwear draw, he believed that they must have labeled a pair for every day of the week.

He turned his attention to the girl sitting at the desk. She was staring at him, her mouth hanging open. Draco was a little puzzled...surely he wasn't that attractive.

He had the sudden urge to stare right back. The girl in front of him was extraordinarily pretty, yet also extremely familiar. Draco tried to piece together where he had seen her before.

She was curvy, yet petite, with large brown eyes and a mane of flowing red hair.

-Red hair? Oh my God.

Draco's fears were confirmed when Franklin introduced her.

"Mr. Malfoy, it is a pleasure to introduce you to your new personal assistant, Ginny Weasley."

*** "Leave me alone Malfoy!"

"Awww...comm'on weasel- don't you wanna play..." ***

If what Draco had heard was true, Ginny Weasley, as Franklin's assistant was a powerful influence on the company. With only a handshake to confirm the company as his own, and a shady past that definitely involved the Weasley clan somewhere in that mess, Draco had a lot to lose...especially if that little Weasley brat decided to start bad-mouthing him.

Regaining his composure, Draco smiled (at least he thought he smiled--to everyone else in the room it looked very smirky) at Ginny and decided to play it cool.

"Nice to meet you again, Miss Weasley."

She looked up at him, with the expression of a deer caught in the powerful beam of a pair of headlights. Her head on one side, hands trembling visibly, she choked out, "S-s-ame to you, M-Mr. Malfoy."

He wondered whether she knew how endearing she looked, with her pretty eyes opened wide. The years had been kind to her--Draco couldn't argue with that, and he would've bet the tables had turned with her and Potter.

Seeing Franklin bewildered look, he wondered if he was being too obvious.

"You to know each other?" Franklin finally asked.

"Old school acquaintances..." Draco said lightly, throwing the still dumbstruck Ginny a look, "Well, shall we continue with our tour then?"

They left the room, with Draco scheming of ways to keep Ginny quiet. He had a feeling that Franklin would make him sign something that would assure him the original staff would be kept. All he needed to do now was to make sure Franklin actually gave him the chance to fill out anything!