Regret and Betrayal

Chapter Two

And So It Begins...

'As long as hate exists, so does love.'

~*~~*~~*~

Cyrus walked through the passages of his home playfully, looking for something to amuse himself with. His daily appointment had been cancelled due to the appointee not turning up, so he was on his way to find his father for an explanation as to why. However his father had told him the night before that he had an important meeting to go to, therefore he needed something to keep him occupied until. That was when he heard a little commotion as he descended the stairs. It was one of the maids; she was talking to a footman at the door. He seemed angry at first but then his expression softened as he backed away and let her pass. It was strange; he then followed her with his eyes walking through the hall to the kitchens, carrying a large bucket of apples. Her hair was dark and stringy, obviously she had been picking apples in the orchard, as rain was falling outside and she had gotten wet from it.

"Has my father returned from his meeting yet?" he called to her.

The woman jumped, a few apples spilled from the bucket and she scrambled to pick them up. He smiled at her clumsiness; she wasn't supposed to be walking here, all kitchen staff were to walk around the house. She would not have dared to do it if his father was home. So he kind of guessed that he wasn't home already.

"No Sir he is still out," she answered hurriedly. "He left a message that he will not return from the ministry until just before dinner."

"The Ministry of Magic, why has he gone there?" He was surprised that his father had not told him of this.

"His plans have finally come to a start, Sir; he has been speaking of them all month. Surely you have heard of them?"

"So what if I hadn't, are you saying it makes me any less of a son?" He was playing with her, but she clearly did not see it that way. Servants, you've got to love them. In a weird, and a twisted sort of way.

"No Sir I would never say anything of the sort, of course not, excuse me Sir." She was quick to right herself; after all she really needed this job. And she had done too much wrong already.

"Stop calling me Sir so many times, it's annoying." He was smiling at her, but she was intent at keeping her view to the ground. Where she had created a moderately large puddle of rain-water.

"Sorry Sir, I mean, Mr. Black."

"Mr. Black, is my father, my name is Cyrus."

"I am sorry, Cyrus. But Mr. Black has not returned as yet and I have chores to finish so please excuse me."

"You are excused." The young woman hurried off. "Oh one minute." The girl stopped dead in her tracks. Cyrus walked over to her slowly, sensing the effect of his actions. He could sense her fear that he was going to say or do something to make her feel much worse than she already did. Maybe his father was right; maybe he had been spending too much time with his cousin. But he did not feel like doing that right now, as much as his father said he should. He took one of the apples off of the top of the bucket. "I love apples, did you know that?" He took a bite from it, after shining it on his clothes.

She seemed confused at this unusual approach at conversation, and looked at him for a split second before securing her gaze upon the floor once more. "Yes, Cyrus, I did, these are for dessert, apple pie." She paused before saying his name, uncertain to if it was proper to address your employer in such an informal way.

"Are you making it?" he asked.

"Yes I am." she answered quietly, still a little put off.

"Mmm, does this mean I'll be getting a smaller portion?"

The girl finally looked up at him, he smiled. "No, this means I'll just have to go and pick some more," she answered, with more courage seeing that he meant no harm.

"Oh dear, well we can't have that now can we?" he said, looking outside of the opened front door. The rain was getting heavier; no wonder she had taken chances going through the house. With his free hand, he reached into the painting of the orchard that hung on the wall, she watched as the paint surrounded his arm; he picked an apple from one of the trees. "There you go," he said, handing it to her.

The girl looked amazed. "How did you do that?" She pressed her hand against the wall, it was solid. She looked at him, her eyes wide. "Wandless magic, how?" She knew that some wizards had mastered the craft or wandless magic; it still amazed her at how it was done though.

"As you know I am the son of a not-so-ordinary-wizard, therefore I am not-so-ordinary myself." He leaned against the wall. Proving to her it was indeed solid. "I guess this means I can have seconds then?"

"Mr. Cyrus Sir, you can have anything you want, that is why we are here to serve you, to give you what you want."

"Really?" He surveyed her with his mischievous coal blue eyes.

"Within reason, of course." she said, picking up immediately what he meant.

"Oh, well in that case, could I get it with extra cream?"

She smiled and nodded. Then turned and made her way to the kitchens once again.

***

"Are you sure you're ok with this?" Pete asked.

Ginny was woken up in the supposed 'Hide out' apartment that was, in fact her home. Not much of an apartment really than two separate houses with the middle wall knocked down, shared by herself and her roommate Lesley. She was an artist, quite famous in the wizarding world, like Picasso to muggles, but when they were in school Lesley had promised that if she ever rose to fame that she never forgets where it started. So when she did shoot to fame, she just didn't move out. They had spent the whole night drinking; everything but juice with a high alcohol content. Complaining about how men are in fact, bastards. 'That gets you into impossible situations, and strands you there to pick up the residue at their whim.' Until one o'clock in the morning, before collapsing completely unconscious and waking up long enough to claw themselves to bed.

"Pete, why are you here?" Ginny groaned, gripping her head. She had then realised that he had let himself into her home and was now positioned quite comfortably on her bed. The blackout from her hair caused her to believe for a split second that she was blind. It was in fact, a hangover, as it was accompanied by a blinding headache.

"The Chief sent me, to make sure you're ready for Malfoy's people to come and pick you up, 'cos you haven't replied to any of the owls we've been sending all morning."

"What owls?" Ginny looked insipidly at the windows, the rain was beating immensely hard against the grey misty outline of the building. Two owls had situated themselves on her windowsill, looking very irritable. "Oh," she said. "Well as you can see, I have not been able to respond to them." She demonstrated this with her arms. Then she sat up; the flush of blood made her headache even worse. "What time is it?" she winced.

"About eight," he said, looking at his watch.

Ginny looked at it, the brown leather band almost reflecting the sunlight in her eyes. He still has that? she thought.

"Aargh, you must be joking, Pete you may not have noticed this, but I'm tired, ok? Could you just... Piss off?

"I would, in other circumstances, but Chief's orders," he replied. Suddenly wondering why he was always the one to have to approach her with these things. He was sure if given the choice; no one else would dare come near Ginny right now. In any other case, they'd bite off their right arm and leg. Everyone either liked her or claimed that they were in love with her, including him. It was only a matter of time now...

Ginny sighed, "Fine, I'm up, but I'm not dressing with you here."

"Oh," he said sharply, pretending to be hurt. It didn't take much effort. "Fine, I know when I'm not wanted."

Obviously not, Ginny thought.

"But you have to promise not to go back to sleep."

"Sure," she answered indifferently.

"By the way," he said, getting ready to apparate. "I gave him your address." Then he was gone.

Gave who my address? Oh no- he wouldn't. "Bastard," she said, and turned over to sleep again.

***

Pete made his way through the corridors of his workplace, the rest of the team had once again, gathered themselves around the conference table; they all looked at him as he entered, sympathy on their faces. They all knew how Ginny got when she was disturbed before her 'quiet time with coffee.'

"Well?" Chief Manning was the first to speak.

"He won't know what hit him," Pete answered honestly.

***

"Aren't you awake yet?" said a voice.

Draco groaned. He turned over to be blinded by the maid opening the curtains. Letting in an intense beam of light, focused, aimed for his eyes, denting his eyeballs and ripping them open.

"Fuck! Altair are you insane?" He shielded himself with his arms.

"Nope, I'm not. But you must be sleeping this late."

"Late? What time is it?"

"Around quarter to ten."

"You must be joking. Look I am very tired, couldn't you come back in an hour."

"I am not your personal alarm clock." Then she laughed. "Oh you will never know the priceless ness of your situation for me."

Just then, Lucius Malfoy walked in heedlessly through the bedroom doors; Draco sat up quickly, the rush of blood causing him to get a little dizzy. Then the feeling was gone.

"I hear you have a visitor," he said, getting straight to the point. "I would like to meet them."

"What," Draco scratched his head, "are you talking about?"

"I have heard that you have agreed to harbour a certain wife, of a certain friend."

"And where did you hear that from father?" he lied, glancing knowingly to Altair, remembering how business spread like wildfire in this house, especially if it had anything to do with him. Even if he hadn't mentioned anything to anyone. Which he hadn't, so how could it possibly spread? Oh yeah I forgot, it's MY house, he remembered. "Ow," he said through clenched teeth.

"Oops," said Altair, she stopped fluffing his pillows and went over to his wardrobe. Still grinning. Lucius' eyes followed her across the room.

"I haven't sent anyone for her yet father." he said nursing his head. He didn't notice his father's staring.

"Well hurry up I want to meet her." he said tearing away his gaze.

"Why?"

"Always be aware, son." He stressed son. Draco hated the way he did that, like he was describing any other inanimate object in the room.

"Yes I know no other sudden reactions," he reeled.

"Hmm, well, owl me when she's here." Lucius added as he sauntered out of the room. "Oh." He turned, "One more thing."

If it had been anybody else Draco would have looked up, but he hadn't taken his eyes off of his father since he had entered the room, so there was no need to.

"Don't get tardy, I know that you no longer live in my home Draco, but a master should never wake up after-his-servants." He paused between each word and glanced at the housemaid; who was still going through Draco's clothes, as if determined not to look at him. He knew why. Turning to leave, he closed the door behind him.

Draco looked at her. She was still smiling, how she did it he couldn't tell, like she was permanently happy. Come to think of it, there was only once that he could remember where he had not seen her smile. But that was long time ago, a time they had all chosen to forget.

"You could have told me he was coming."

Altair stopped and turned. "Oh, but that would've ruined the surprise." That mischievous grin took its place once more, plastering itself across her face.

Draco began to rise and winced again at the pain in his head.

"Oh, what's the matter?" Altair asked. She was speaking the way adults do to a baby. He didn't like it much. He just looked at her.

"Nothing, it's just that you could fluff pillows without the whole poking fingers in my neck. You need a manicure, those things are like talons."

"If only I could afford one."

"Are you asking for a raise?" he asked.

"I'm asking you to move so I can make your bed," she said moving him rather harshly. "Besides I'm shocked, you actually know what that word means?"

"No, my father doesn't know what that word means; you know this, as you worked for him."

"I know; I still thank you."

"Thank me? Oh is that what this is?" he said, demonstrating her work on his head.

"Hey! ¡No seas descarado! I wash and handle your clothes, you remember that." She said it like a threat.

Draco was silent; he had taken it as a threat.

"Anyway, shouldn't you be getting someone to fetch your father's new eye candy." she said candidly.

"Eye c-, what is up with you today?"

"Oh come on Chico, he's been after every woman you bring back here, surely you've noticed this or," She laughed, "Are you thoroughly unaware?" She mimicked Lucius as she said this, not helped by the fact Draco was laughing throughout.

His laughter subsided, "Why do you hate me?" he smiled.

"¡No papi!" She screwed up her face doing that voice again; she gripped his chin and shook it. It reminded him of his aunt Helen and every birthday he'd had from the age of four. She must have known this, being there too. He shuddered. Altair continued. "I don't hate you, I just really like the idea of being the first one to point and laugh." Then she did. She got up and threw some clothes onto the bed. "¡Tiene que levantarse!! You have to send word to your 'employees'" She signaled air quotes. "To pick up your 'ice-maiden in need of good homing.' quote-unquote"

Draco's head snapped up from the covers. "Where did you hear that?"

"No sólo las paredes tienen orejas. Tengo las orejas tambien," she smiled.

"Mmm, I'll have to remember that," he said and got out of bed.

"Anyway, why are you moving so slowly? It's not as if you can take time from your busy schedule to pick her up yourself."

If Altair were taking any notice, she would've seen Draco smiling on his way into the bathroom.

***

"So she has arrived?" The man stood at the window, overlooking the busy London streets. Upon those walking along it, insects easy to obliterate. But one must put themselves first; after all, patience, their time will come. He had waited for the other to arrive. Managing long enough to restrain scourgifying the whole room. Filthy, it was, with clear evidence for the lewd misconduct of cleanliness. He just stood by the window; it was all he could do to remain immune to the foul saturated filth that surrounded him, the shiver roaming for a spine to course up and down. He shuddered as the other entered the room.

"No, but she's on her way"

"That is quite refreshing, Edgar, when will she be there?"

"Well we have no idea when the suspect-"

"Halt with the formalities Edgar, we both know who he is," His impatience grew.

"- When Mr. Malfoy will be retrieving her."

"And the girl?"

"She hasn't been answering any of our owls so, honestly I have no clue."

"No clue? Well isn't that diverse. May I remind you, that if you cannot do this job Edgar, then I will have to find someone else that is much more suited to the task? But I do not think you want that do you? If I were you I would not even consider that as an option. I mean, with the wife at home, and the children and all... Good Lord Edgar. Won't you think of your children?" He held out his hand.

"No, please, don't worry about it; we will get this job done. Just don't hurt..." He screamed.

Chief Edgar Manning grimaced at the pain in his chest, as his employer emitted austere, white-hot bolts of pain from his outstretched hand. That seared through his back, through his heart, into his head. With it, he saw his wife and his children, lying in physically - impossible positions. A crimson ground sparkled playfully with the sunlight, catching the shadows plagued over their eyes. Then it was gone.

"Do not fail me. It is greatly important to me that this goes impeccably. I am a patient man. But patience; as it is has constraints, believe me. I shall hold you personally responsible for this if it does not proceed without flaws. Do you understand me Edgar? Or do you need another glimpse to aid you in your reply?" He held out his hand again; ready to reiterate his past action upon the crumbling man before him.

"No, no, please that's enough." He put up his hand, almost shielding the tears that filled in his eyes. "I understand you fully." He breathed out deeply, massaging his chest.

"Good." The man smiled malevolently, turning to leave the room.

"Mr. Black..." The man turned sharply, giving an unmerciful gaze that could set fire to stone. The audacity of this lower being, to actually spill his name from that undeserving mouth. "- I mean, Sir," he coughed, "I just have one thing to ask." Manning quickly caught on; he decided not to be the object of another curse.

"What could that possibly be?" The look faded slightly, replaced by a tedious interest.

"I just wanted to know, why do you want to do this to these people, I mean, Virginia, Mr. Malfoy, what've they ever done to you?"

"A lot more than you think." His hands tightened behind his back, strangling his past. That now paved his future. Vengeance looked pale and hollow but the reason for it still haunted his dreams.

"But surely, that can't be worth killing them?" His courage almost peaked as his questions probed further to the truth.

"My dear Edgar, as much as this has nothing to do with you - whom it hasn't, may I point out. I would never kill your dear Virginia, but she is far too important for me not to include her within my plans, after all that was the reason I got her this job, that and to, get her away from my son." he replied indifferently, waving a casual hand to his words.

"And Mr. Malfoy?"

"Come again, are you serious? Narcissa would - hurt me." He watched the affect of his words on him, as the confusion spread dauntingly across his face. It was most entertaining.

"Mrs. Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy? Hurt?" He couldn't believe that the woman was able to stand on her own let alone hurt someone. If anything he would have thought that Lucius would be the one to intervene.

"He is her only son Edgar, you've never seen her angry. Besides, you can't really expect me to kill him can you? Tut - tut Edgar, after all..." He thought deeply before considering his reply, "He is my nephew."

***

"Oh shit!" Ginny yelled. The knock on the door woke her up again. This time she was a lot less hostile and more on the bewildering rushing side of herself.

Lesley, very shocked to see this new side to Ginny, just sat in complete silence on her bed as this - normally organized - person ran around the room, knocking over almost everything in sight, including the bags they had, kind of, packed the night before.

"What is the time Lesley, do you know?" called Ginny from the bathroom.

"Erm," said Lesley finding her voice suddenly. "About half ten, look, I came to drop off these sketches, they're kind of sketchy, obviously, and I need your opinion. I had nothing else on so I... are you going somewhere?" she asked now noticing what Ginny was trying to do, get ready. Last night Lesley had helped her pack, but she didn't know it would be this soon and Ginny had still not told where she was going, and Lesley was damned if she wasn't going to find out before Ginny left. Again.

"Yes," Ginny replied quickly.

That can't be all she's telling me.

"I'd tell you more but then I'd have to kill you." Ginny answered as if reading her mind.

"Funny. Would you at least tell me if you're leaving the country this time, and if so when will you be back?" Lesley asked without faltering, she was quite tired of not being told anything by Ginny. Keeping to you was one thing, shutting her out was another, especially if it meant she had to leave the county a number of times without even telling her where she was going. Once she came home and there was a scribbled note on the door.

Lesley,

I've gone to Scarborough. I'll be back soon, have to close a deal for the senior partners. Will have to miss your opening ceremony, truly sorry.

Lots of love

Ginny.

But I must not be bitter, move on. Lesley shifted on the bed.

"Look," Ginny stuck her head around the bathroom doorway, "You know my job entails moving around a lot, it's a big corporation, I have to go to close this deal." She hated lying to her, but there you go.

Lesley paused. That bloody company, she'd hardly gotten to see Ginny since she got the job at that firm, it always had her tired. Last night was the most she had seen of Ginny since she started and they hadn't talked that much in ages. The last time... well, Ginny never spoke of that time again. So neither would she.

"Is that what you meant last night about men leaving you to clean up the residue of their failures?"

"You remember that?" Ginny laughed.

"Partially," Lesley rubbed her head. "A sobrietus charm may be able to make you sober; not at all useful for twenty second memory though."

"Hmm true. But honestly, I can't tell you where I'm going," Ginny said, making her way back to the shower. A splash of water hit the ceramic floor.

"Well make it up, I need to know these things, what if someone came looking for you, What am I supposed to say 'Sorry she's not here right now for reasons I can't explain, as her employers are too far up their own arse to realise she's wrecking her relationships, therefore is unable to tell me even when she's getting back but don't worry, I'll call you the moment she does, though I still won't have a clue.' Hmm? Is that what I'm supposed to say?"

Ginny stood in the shower; listening to Lesley spill all of this out, this was the only part she hated about this job, lying to those closest to her. The ministry's paper was edited for all those that worked outside of the MBIs department, so even her own family had no idea. But Lesley? She couldn't lie to her; not very well anyway, that's why Lesley always had more questions. Ginny always thought that deep down Lesley actually knew, that's what she hoped, but that didn't change anything.

"Fine, call me Claire; I'm being forced to stay at the home of my family's worst enemy. Therefore I cannot use my real name, as he will know who I am, I have to stay there until I can find out how he is able to steal money from my client, then I have to sleep at his home to make sure he doesn't steal anymore. That is why I cannot tell you when I'll be back because I don't know how long it's going to take." There, she said it.

"So, that's closing a deal is it? Will you at least tell me who you're going to meet then, seeing that you refuse to tell me the truth?" Maybe then I could schrye for them.

Well she had told her the truth, it's not her fault Lesley had seen it as a lie. "Well, his name is-" she began, but she was cut short.

"Draco Malfoy!" Lesley exclaimed.

"Yes. How..."

"Look, Claire, I have to go, my friend's, brothers', nephew's sister asked me to draw her picture."

"You said you had nothing else-"

"Bye!" she heard.

"Les? Les!" she called out, the door shut.

***

The kitchen was as hot as it was outside, even though it had started to rain. The others were grouped around the centre, some were waiting for her to return so that they could get to work, and others had just returned from their upstairs shift so were taking a break. When Samara walked in, they watched her, almost drenched dripping as she walked to the centre table, sympathy on their faces. She was ready to sit her self down when...

"What took you so long, how hard is it to pick a few apples?" The head chef had been waiting for her too; she just entered carrying a pot of soup, which she placed on the stove.

"Calm down Lyra, You'll have your pies ready." Samara smiled as she put the bucket of apples on the wooden counter.

"At this rate, I could have made them already."

"Well you're not the one making them, I am, so calm yourself." The rest of the kitchen maids smiled at her, Samara had always spoken to the chef this way. As they were long time friends. They were all glad of it, as none of them had dared to do it themselves.

"You may be the one making them, but I am the one taking the heat if dinner is not ready for Mr. Black this evening. Do not get fresh with me young lady I could have your job, remember that." She turned back to the stove. Casting a filthy pot to the sink, it landed with a small splash in front of the scullery maid. She screwed up her face a little as murky dish water went in her face.

Samara tutted, "I don't think you want this job Lyra, it's far too stressful." She winked at the young ones, they had just started their first days and 'The fear of Lyra,' had already begun. "But nonetheless rewarding." She tumbled out the apples, the others sorted them, and then Samara picked up one of them and placed it in her pocket.

"What, where are you going with that? Put it back down, it's not yours to take from here."

"It was given to me." Samara stated. The room went deadly quiet.

"By whom?" Lyra's hands went on her hips, ready for an explanation. Even the house maids and the valet on their break were interested.

"Mr. Black," she said, feeling judged by all the eyes upon her.

"Paethozar Black, gave you an apple?" She could not believe her ears. The other maids still looked judgmental.

"Nope, his son did."

"Hmm," She laughed. Somehow, Samara knew she would do that. "I should have known. Listen to me, too many young girls have passed through my kitchen because of that boy. Do me a favour and do not obsess over your ten minutes of conversation with him, I am saying this as a friend. His father won't be happy, and neither will he. As much as you think he has turned around and is consorting with the servants, do not fool yourself. He is still a Black."

"Yes I know he is a Black, with the light hair," She stared off as if mystified by him, "and the defining clothes; the clear complexion, delicate features and... do you think I was born yesterday? I know he's trying to fool me with the batting of the eyelashes, and the soft speaking. I may be a kitchen maid, but I went to Hogwarts, I'm not stupid."

"Then, why with the apple?" They all looked astonished, most of the women - servant or no - had always been attracted to the young man. It was strange that she had somehow found a way to resist.

"Taste it. Go on. I'll 'reparo' it then I'll just go pick some more."

She watched as the chef took a bite then spat it back out, like she had tasted the wrong 'Every flavored bean.'

"Exactly, he pulled the thing out of a painting, it tastes of oil paint; do you really want me to put it in a pie? I just thought it was sweet that he would do all that to get an apple from my bucket. He's obviously done no work in his life, and therefore does not know that I could summon apples if I wanted to, but just enjoy fresh air... what's so funny?"

"Nothing, just I think I finally found a keeper." She smiled and went back to the pan on the fire.

***

Ginny grabbed a towel. Her hair was dripping wet. Opening the glass doors, she stepped outside and caught herself once more in the mirror, looking at the foreign reflection that emulated her every move, surveying her, not the other way round.

"So, Claire," She stressed the name. "You're going to stay with a Malfoy, God help you. Just stay out..."

There was someone in her home; the kitchen cupboards were opening and shutting.

"Les?" she called with a smile. "You said you had somewhere to go."

She made her way to the bedroom, where she could see into the kitchen and opened the bedroom door, covered only by a towel; her hair-dripping wet. She walked candidly to the kitchen looking for Lesley, but she was nowhere in sight.

"You shouldn't scare me..." She looked straight ahead this time as a spoon was loudly slammed down on one of the surfaces. Her eyes opened widely. To her horror, it was not Lesley in her kitchen.

***

"Holy shit, she was telling the truth." Lesley had long known of the rivalry between the Weasleys and the Malfoys. Who hadn't? That was the reason she always made thorough plans at her unveilings, naturally she didn't want the two of them running into each other. But the fact that a member of their family had just apparated into Ginny's apartment, well, now some reflection was in order. All those other times Ginny had said things to shut her up, like the time she said she was flying to Scotland to visit a source that had information on deatheaters and...

Yes, some research definitely needed to be done.

***

Apparently, Draco had apparated into the middle of a conversation. He looked at the address on the parchment given to him by 'Marcus.' Is this the right address? he thought. At first, he had driven onto the street and looked up to the top floor. It was small, really small. No wonder she was unhappy. But she's a Weasley, shouldn't she be used to this sort of - place. He opened the front door to come into contact with another door, and to the side of it was a flight of stairs. He ascended them; his shoes almost being polished by the long plush carpeting, he admired the photographs that were framed on the walls, of a dark- haired woman, smiling and waving madly and a flaming red-haired woman that seemed to be hiding next to her, he wondered why, though it didn't take long. Emoti-pictures, - evident from the minuscule logo - are still tied to the emotions of their being, right now, she was hiding. A 'Ten million galleons' guess why? The dark haired woman had long hair curled falling around her shoulders, she had a familiar face; he believed that she lived there too. How two people could fit in this - spaciously challenged? - House was beyond him. When he reached the door upstairs, he had considered knocking, but decided against it and apparated instead towards the voices he heard inside. Upon doing so, he came into contact with someone that did not look at all like a Weasley. Who at first, appeared to be talking to herself.

Did I choose the right door? he thought.

"Draco Malfoy!" she had exclaimed as she sat on the bed.

Draco signaled for her not to say anything.

"Um, Claire, I have to go now."

Oh well, so much for confidentiality. I see she told her then. Unless... ah, that explains why she lives with such a rich person. Of course, the woman obviously doesn't know who she is, but then again, what about the pictures on the stairs?

"You said you had nothing else-"

"Bye!" she said, waving awkwardly to him before shutting the door.

Draco followed her with his eyes, mouthing a 'bye' as she left. He knew who she was, and he recognized her from the pictures, both from the walls on the stairs, and from the sketches on the bed in front of him. He turned his attention to the voice in the bathroom.

"Les, Les!" it called out.

Les? Never heard anyone call her that before. He looked at the signature Lesley-Anne. Hmm, I've got two of her originals in my house. He stopped. That same voice from the bathroom cut through his thoughts, she was saying his name then 'God help you?' what was that supposed to mean? He put the drawings back unto the bed and proceeded to her kitchen.

So, she lives with an artist, a famous one. Who is probably rich enough to buy this - place ten times over, interesting?

Then distracted, is there no peanut butter or chocolate spread in this house? If I can call it that. After giving the room a once over, he had taken to raiding her kitchen cupboards for a snack; as he had not yet had breakfast. But, upon finding none of his favourite, he guessed that it must be because she was poor. Though, having such an elaborate job in the ministry's secret service should enable her to afford two basic sandwich spreads surely? So he settled on the fact that she was just boring, therefore slamming his spoon on the table, which didn't exactly feel too bad. But not good enough to get rid of his cravings.

"You shouldn't scare me like..."

Draco turned at the sound of her voice, surprise turned into thought-provoking amusement as he surveyed her beginning to cower in nothing but a towel. She was shocked by all means with perhaps, what he saw as a touch of fear?

He then got a thought.

"Do you always talk about me in the shower?" he said callously, turning back to the cupboards, which by now were all open. "I wouldn't if I were you, I mean, what-would-your-husband-think?" Ginny couldn't see this but Draco was obviously enjoying so much right now.

"Ah, there's the peanut butter." He turned back to Ginny and scanned her up and down with playful eyes. "Ooh and you dressed like that, tut-tut." He breathed out a sigh. "Erm, where's your chocolate spread?"

Absently, without even thinking, Ginny actually answered this question. "In the far right cupboard." She pointed.

He looked where she was pointing. "No, it isn't I looked there already."

"Behind the red beans,"

Draco glanced once more, "No I can't see it."

"Oh for heaven's sake," Men, they can't look any further than their own bloody noses. "Move."

She secured the towel and moved him out of the way; reaching up to part a sea of tins, to reveal a jar of chocolate spread.

"There it is." She slid it forward and picked it off the shelf.

***

Draco, however, was not looking at the jar, now being removed resplendently from the cupboard. Instead, he had taken to her, naked under a towel, hair; dark, long and wet, sticking to her creamy skin, why the hell he was still standing there with a spoon in his hand he did not know. Oh yeah, because she's a Weasley that's why, what the hell is wrong with me? He sat down on one of the stools in the kitchen and proceeded to eat peanut butter from the jar, licking it as he did so, surveying her.

"There it is," Ginny said. "Look properly, you must've been blind." She put the jar on the counter.

Draco breathed in through his teeth. "I am now," Draco added, taking full advantage of the fact that his head could bend to the side. As much as he hated, despised even to admit it, she didn't look half bad. This fortunately, meant that she didn't look half good either. He reassured himself.

Ginny turned at this comment, "What the hell are you doing here anyway? I thought you were sending someone for me? And can't you see I'm not decent?" she said, upon realising what he was doing. Trying to tighten the towel.

He got to his feet, and began to corner her against the counter; leaning in as if he were about to kiss her. Ginny, suddenly feeling very self conscious again crossed her arms to prevent him from getting any closer. But he continued to lean in anyway.

"Oh, you don't look all that bad," he said in her ear, looking over her shoulder. She smelled of fresh soap, ylang ylang and sandalwood, and her hair - now partially dry, streaked with strands of wetness - smelled of fruit and herbs, very earthy. He liked it.

"Are you smelling my hair?" Ginny questioned him harshly. With equal force she pushed him away.

She did look quite annoyed when she did this, even more so to his reaction, when he started to smile.

Candidly, he lifted the jar of chocolate spread and shook it a little, as if justifying his actions.

"How can I get what I want with such a..." He looked at her once more with mischievous eyes, thinking of the right words to use. "Obstacle, in my way? And wouldn't you rather have the man of the house bring you rather than some servant who has never been out of the house in a very, very long time?"

Ginny reluctantly felt her cheeks blush red with rage, and suddenly wished that she hadn't asked Pete to leave. Just once she wanted to retort, to hit him - square across the face. But she couldn't, wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing her angry. Therefore said the most logical thing she could think of.

"If my husband-" she began.

"Ah yes, your husband," Draco interrupted; spooning out sandwich spreads, he put the spoon in his mouth thoughtfully, planning his next move. He licked it clean and then replaced the spoon in one of the jars. Ginny grimaced making a mental note to throw them all away as soon as possible. "That would be a problem, if he was here, shame he won't be staying with us also." He stressed us and smiled mischievously.

Ginny didn't know what to say to that, but anything she did would probably jeopardize her chances of getting into the manor. "Well, can you at least excuse me so that I might change?"

"Oh don't mind me; I've seen all I needed to anyway. He watched her leave the kitchen.

What was that supposed to mean? I've seen all I needed to anyway? Bastard, who does he think he is?

Ginny took some clothes out from one of the bags and went back into the bedroom, aware of Malfoy's eyes on her as she closed the door.

***

The door to the bedroom clicked shut, Draco took out his wand and pointed it to the door, "Silentium," he said and a faint blue transparent veil swept through the air and encased her bedroom door.

"Altair, Altair!" he called.

There was some distant giggling around the room, like the echo in a cave.

"Altair would you just get here now?"

"No lo sé ..., you do not pay me enough for this," she said as she appeared laughing. "You know who she is, why don't you just end this now? Before somebody gets hurt."

"Hurt? What by exactly? Anyway why should I, they're the ones who want to come into my house to snoop around, is it so harmful to want to know what it is that they are looking for?"