Mastering the Art of Pig Wrestling

Mastering the Art of Pig Wrestling

"All right, Nev. You get behind him and block the door, then try to herd him towards me."

Neville swallowed and nodded his head, and Ginny could see the sweat beading on his upper lip and forehead. It wasn't that the creature was particularly dangerous, but he was fast and squirmy and she knew they were both dreading getting into the muddy pen with him.

They chose not to use any magic, or at least a minimal amount of it, on the Muggle side of the complex, since more often than not the neighbouring children were hanging about the various pens. A few small bodies could almost always be seen down by Orlic the donkey's paddock, or over feeding Ginger and Pudding, their resident nuisance ducks.

So Ginny and Neville were forced, somewhat reluctantly, to go about catching the small, wily animal by hand.

Slowly, so as not to alarm him, Ginny slipped from the wooden fence and into the pen, her booted feet squishing into the mud, and watched as Neville did the same on the other side, sidling silently towards the hole of the indoor hutch.

"Now, Joshua," Ginny started gently, looking for any signs that the animal would bolt, "this is for your own good, you know. Be a good boy and let me pet you. That's all I want to do, just give you a nice little pat hello."

"Um... Gin?"

"Not now, Neville," Ginny hissed in a low voice. "Just get in place."

"But, Gin--"

"I'm going to jump at him, Nev," she went on, ignoring his protests and keeping her eyes glued to the pink menace snuffling through the trough they'd recently filled with his favourite treats. "Make sure he can't get past you. We'll never get at him if he gets into the hutch."

The mud suctioning her boots made it hard to creep stealthily towards Joshua, but the animal merely turned to glance at her, his beady eyes blinking once before he snorted and went back to eating. The sun beat heavily down on her and she pushed back a strand of sweaty hair, wishing she'd thought to wear her sunhat, despite how ridiculous she looked with it on. She could practically feel the freckles erupting all over her face.

There wasn't anything she could do about it right then, though, so she wiped her palms on her worn jeans and crouched down, concentrating solely on getting a hold of Joshua. "Ready, Nev?" she asked without lifting her gaze.

"I suppose," he replied hesitantly.

"Either you are or you're not."

He cleared his throat, and then said, "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay, you little bugger, stay still just a bit longer." His curly pink tail wiggled and she reached out her arms. The second her fingers touched his skin, he let out a high-pitched squeal and took off for his hutch. "Don't let him past, Neville," Ginny shouted, stumbling after the animal.

She fell to her knees, her boots stuck in the muck, but quickly scrambled to her feet, lunging as Joshua shot past her again. Miraculously, her hand grasped a small cloven hoof as her belly hit the mud and she slithered forward, snaking an arm around the wiggling, squealing mass, its feet splattering dark mud all over her face as she pulled it towards her chest.

"Got you," she crowed after catching her breath, hugging Joshua tightly in her arms. "Good work, Nev."

"Um, Gin?"

She glanced over at him, a huge smile on her face. "What?"

Neville's brown eyes, which she always likened to their pet cow, Barkley's, were wide and apprehensive as he motioned behind her with a nervous tilt of his head.

Twisting her upper body, she found herself gazing into the smirking face of one Draco Malfoy.

"I see you've mastered the art of pig wrestling, Weasley," he drawled, leaning his forearms onto the wooden fence.

Her face burned red in embarrassment, and a small part of her was thankful that the dirt hid most of her flush. The rest of her was mortified down to her marrow that Malfoy had caught her unawares, sprawled in a mud pit, with a squealing piglet tucked into her arms.

"Malfoy," she said stiffly. "You're early."

He shrugged. "Finished ahead of schedule in Egypt, and it's always so highly amusing here on the Weasley farm. Never a dull moment in the dirt."

Ginny bit back a growl at the derogatory emphasis he'd placed on the word 'farm.' Technically, it wasn't even a farm. "You know you're always welcome at the Refuge, Malfoy," she said with false sweetness. "Here, Nev, can you take Joshua for me? Just clean him up and make him presentable. Suze should be here soon to pick him up."

"Suze? Sweet, sexy Suze?" Draco asked, smirk widening as Neville sent him a glare before wandering off towards the front of the lodge.

Ginny wiped her face, but only succeeded in smearing more mud across her forehead. "You've been away too long, Malfoy," she chided, a bit of a bite to her tone. "Suze's engaged."

"Ah, missed the boat with that one, then. I'd give you a hand there, but you're really quite dirty."

"Wouldn't want to sully your hands, heaven forbid," Ginny muttered, struggling to her feet and scraping as much mud as she could off of her jeans and t-shirt. "Come on, I'll show you the Ridgeback."

His brows lifted. "Don't want to get cleaned up first?"

Ginny scowled. "Don't worry, Malfoy. I won't touch you."

"That wasn't exactly my reasoning, Weasley, but as it stands you can touch me all you want." He gave her a playful leer, his gaze dropping to her mud-damp t-shirt.

"Prat," she snapped, crossing her arms over her breasts. She was sensitive about her small-boned body and didn't need him rubbing her nose in her lack of assets. "You can harass Case in the kitchens while I change."

"I'd rather harass you while you change."

"Stop trying to flirt with me, Malfoy," Ginny huffed. "It's not even very convincing."

Draco gave her a mock-hurt pout. "Why, Weasley, haven't you realized yet that I've been madly in love with you for years?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes.

"But alas, it could never be between us, for you are but a poor, lowly dirt farmer, and I, your lordly benefactor."

"Look, Malfoy," Ginny growled, rounding on him with a mean glint in her eye, "I don't need nor want your help--"

"Oh, but I want to help," he cut in blithely. "Besides, you're lying through your teeth and you're not especially good at it; you get this tiny twitch at your left eye. It's adorable, really, but I can always tell when you're lying. And you do need me, Weasley. Admit it. No one else has anywhere near the amount of connections I do."

Ginny glared heatedly at him for a moment, then spun on her heel and stalked silently up to the house. She really couldn't stand the man's arrogance. Never could, even when they'd stood side by side to help defeat You-Know-Who. She trusted him implicitly to guard her back, at times even admired his ruthlessness, and he was bloody fine to look at, but that didn't mean she had to like him.

Ginny shoved past Millicent in the laundry room, and the girl gave her a scowl and a disgruntled "What's up your arse?" before spotting her blond ex-classmate lingering in the doorway. "Oh, it's you. Figures."

Draco grinned. "Great to see you too, Bulstrode."

"Here for the Ridgeback, then?" she asked, shoving her feet into her paddock boots.

"Of course," he replied.

"Of course," she echoed dryly. "Try not to piss Weasley off too much this time, huh? She's hell to live with when you're around."

"I make no promises where the little Weasley's concerned," he drawled, then sauntered into the spacious kitchen and leaned a hip against the island countertop. "What's for lunch?"

Case shot him a small smile. "Minced grubs sautéed in a delicious chicken blood broth."

"Why am I not surprised? You make appalling use of your kitchen, Case."

"Rumbles needs mush," the dark-haired, overly burly cook explained with a shrug. "You want real food, you can make it yourself."

"Rumbles?"

"The Ridgeback."

"You've got to be kidding me," Draco rolled his eyes. "Let me guess, Weasley came up with that one, right?"

Case's brows furrowed over his beetle black eyes, a scowl at his lips. "I did."

"You named a hundred plus pound yearling dragon Rumbles?" The man had always reminded Draco a bit of Hagrid, although perhaps not so huge and hairy, so he shouldn't have been all that surprised by Case's choice of names. Still... "You couldn't have come up with something a little more manly, like Magurt or Terrance?"

"First of all, you shouldn't ever be allowed to name anything. Magurt?" Case gave him a look of puzzled disgust.

"Magurt. Very abrupt and tough."

Case shook his head. "Second of all, Rumbles is female. Didn't you read the docket Ginny sent you?"

Draco waved a dismissive hand. "My secretary gave me the essentials. Male or female isn't a priority detail. How is she doing, then?"

"Better. Tame as a poodle, though."

Draco rubbed a hand over his neck. "Obvious problem. I'll send word to a proper rehab camp. You should have her on raw food by now, too," he added with some reproach.

Case frowned. "I know. I've tried her on a bit of chicken, but she doesn't seem too keen."

"How about duck?" Draco suggested with a wicked grin, spotting the two Indian Runner ducks out the kitchen window. They always plagued his stays at the Refuge, waddling happily and noisily behind him across the entire complex, even attempting to slip into the lodge after him.

"What? Ginger and Pudding? They worship the ground you walk on," Case pointed out, mixing the foul smelling mush into a large bucket.

"As they should. However, I happen to hate them," he replied good-naturedly.

Case snorted. "Like you hate Ginny, eh? Well, you could have fooled me, you daft arse, feeding them my good biscuits last time you were here. And you really should take a different approach with Gin," he added, waving his spoon at him. "This teasing bit isn't getting you anywhere."

"I'm not trying to get anywhere with the little Weasley." At Case's incredulous look he insisted. "Honestly, I couldn't care less about the girl," he shrugged. "Besides, she's always held a rather strong dislike of me."

Case just shook his head and banged his spoon against the side of Rumbles' food bucket. "You make that easy for her, you know, acting like a git most of the time."

The blond gave him a mocking grin, and said with just a tinge of buried bitterness, "That's just my natural sparkling personality shining through."

"Bullocks," Case scoffed, shooting him a telling glance. "Sooner or later someone better than you is going to snap her up."

"Doubt it," Draco countered, grabbing an apple off the table and taking a large bite. A bit of juice dribbled down his chin and he swiped it with the back of his hand. "Who'd want a runt like her?"

Case chuckled, but Draco was saved from further bantering by the backdoor swinging open, and a dirty little boy - or girl, he couldn't quite tell with all the filth - skidded into the room with a huge toothy grin.

"Mr. Malfoy!" the child cried happily, mud-streaked face tipped up to him.

Leaning down, Draco narrowed his eyes. "Are you Lucy or Tim?" he asked.

"Lucy, sir," she replied, seemingly not the least put out with being mistaken for a boy. The twins did look an awful lot alike, and Case hadn't helped matters any by giving them both the same pageboy haircut.

"Ah, Lucy, how are you?"

"Fabulous," the eight-year-old smiled even wider, showing off a missing molar. "I've just been down having a scuffle with the new litter of Crups." She turned to her father. "You wouldn't believe how big they've gotten in just a week, Dad. Oh," she yanked on Draco's sleeve. "Miss Gin said to tell you she's waiting for you out back."

"She is, is she?" Draco glanced out the window again, catching sight of the redhead standing with her arms crossed, straight-backed and glaring daggers at him from the sun drenched yard. "All right, then," he said, tossing the half-eaten apple into the trash bin.

"That was a waste," Lucy admonished, reaching into the bin with her grubby fingers and pulling the apple back out. She furrowed her brows, looking scarily like her father, and frowned at him.

"You aren't going to eat it now, are you?" Draco asked, not bothering to hide his disgust. Case patted his daughter on the head. "She'll give it to Orlic. Right, love?"

She huffed once and nodded before sprinting from the room.

"She's been spending entirely too much time with Weasley. I can tell," Draco observed wryly.

He gave Case a jaunty wave and nicked some biscuits when the man turned back to the stove. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he wandered out through the mud room and over to the newly clean girl, one brow arched. "You sent for me?"

"Let's get this over with," she demanded, slipping her hands down to her hips. Maybe for once he wouldn't be compelled to stay for days on end. His record was five, and he'd spent every waking moment trailing after her, snarking at her, forcing her to snap back, with Ginger and Pudding quacking happily after them, completely in heaven to have their two favourite people sharing the same space.

Ginny refused to acknowledge that she'd felt any sort of loneliness after he'd left. And she hadn't, at any point in time, wished for him back. Truly.

Draco's lips twitched. "Nice shirt, Weasley."

She glanced down at herself and groaned. In a rush, she'd grabbed the first tee she'd come across in her drawer, a joke gift she'd gotten from Suze for her birthday the month before. It had originally said 'Porn Star,' but after several glasses of firewhiskey and much giggling, they'd Transfigured the appliqué star into a pig and morphed the 'n' into a 'k.' They'd just rescued Joshua at the time, so the shirt had seemed fitting, if not very clever.

"Gin," Neville called out as he rounded the side of the lodge. "Suze couldn't stay, but I've got all the proper paperwork from her for once."

An engine roared to life in the distance and Ginny nodded. "Great, Neville. Thanks."

"No problem," he replied, giving Draco a wary glance as he strode past them.

"The little pig's off to meet his doom, I suppose."

For a moment, Ginny suspected he was speaking of Neville. "What?"

"Off to the meat factory," Draco went on, shaking his head. "Chopped into bits."

She was fairly sure he was referring to Joshua now. "He's been sent to a Muggle farm, where he'll grow up with other little pigs."

"Fatten up, you mean. Should have sent your shirt along with him; he'll be pork chops and ham soon enough, star of Farmer John's dinner."

"No one's going to be eating Joshua," Ginny protested in an exasperated voice.

Draco's eyes widened in feigned innocence. "How would you ever know?"

She really didn't know why she was arguing with him about it, but... "Neville's got the signed papers saying they won't ever slaughter him for food. Plus, we always make periodic visits inquiring after our rescues. You know that."

"And I'm sure they're honest, upstanding Muggles who wouldn't dream of pointing out another fat, pink pig and saying it was your very own Josh, hale and hearty."

Ginny scowled at him darkly. "We're not stupid, Malfoy. He's been properly tattooed for identification purposes. Rumbles is in the lower paddock," she said briskly, turning to walk down the path.

Draco fell in step next to her, looking irritatingly cool in the humid hotness of midday. His cream oxford, completely impractical for a farm, was unbuttoned at the neck, his sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows. He wore dove grey trousers, and his black boots were polished to a glossy sheen underneath the inevitable flecks of mud from the path.

Ginny absently rubbed the threadbare denim at her hip, trying to recall if there was ever a time that she'd seen the aggravating ex-Slytherin in casual clothes, and trying not to think about how shabby she must look walking beside him. Not that she cared at all about her appearance. Or his, for that matter. She was above anything that frivolous. Really.

It wasn't long, of course, before Ginger and Pudding caught sight of them and the reddish brown ducks waddled over at full speed, wings flapping, raspy quacks filling the air. Draco paused, waiting for the birds to catch up, then scowled down at them as they nipped at his trousers with rounded beaks and stretched their necks up as far as they could to gain his undivided attention.

"I suppose you think I've got biscuits," he groused, drawing a hand out of his pocket. "Well, you're going to have to calm down, then. I'm not up to sharing biscuits with wild sorts today."

Ginny fought a bemused smile as the ducks instantly settled at the sound of his voice, their beady eyes fixed intently on his closed left hand.

Pudding, his white patch stark on his puffed out chest, let out an impatient quack and nudged Ginger aside.

"Just for that, Ginger gets first dibs," Draco stated.

Ginny snorted. "Good luck fending Pud off, then."

He arched a brow, a half-smirk at his lips. "Someone's got to teach him how to be a gentleman."

"Gentleman?" Ginny laughed. "Well, that certainly rules you out, doesn't it?"

"You wound me with your careless words," Draco said, a frown marring his pale features as he doled out pieces of Case's tasty biscuits to the near frantic waterfowl.

Ginny arched a surprised brow. "Do I? Well, I assure you I've spent many hours pondering your complete lack of gentlemanly manners."

Draco's countenance instantly brightened. "Hours, Weasley? I didn't know you'd given me such thought." He patted her cheek lightly. "How sweet."

Ginny shoved his hand away. "If you're done feeding the ducks," she snapped, "can we get a move on?"

In response, he swept a hand out for her to precede him, then strolled along a step behind, hands stuffed back in his pockets.

Rumbles' pen was the farthest from the lodge, and more of a barn, really, than any sort of fenced-in paddock. They had wanted to limit her contact with people, since her previous owners had lavished her with attention, treating her as if she were the family puppy. At the moment, she was completely incapable of surviving on her own in the wild.

The main problem was that, in the past five or so years, dragon populations had been steadily on the rise. Camps no longer had the money to take on yet another dragon, and the Ministry didn't feel it necessary to send funds for the rescue of one measly Norwegian Ridgeback. Which was where Draco inevitably came into the picture.

Draco took one look at the creature and whistled. "Good Merlin, she's huge."

Ginny slanted him a look. "Didn't you read her paperwork? She's a bit overweight, yes, but she's nearly two." Rumbles let out a roar when she caught sight of the two of them standing just inside the barn door, puffs of smoke rising from her toothy maw. "They disabled her fire," she went on sadly, shaking her head. "Millicent doesn't think it can be reversed, at least not at the moment. She's also being treated for a domestic virus that's luckily only affected her scales, although Millie was concerned it might've spread to the webbing in her wings. So far, she's responded well to medication."

"Colour is nice, at least," Draco commented, stepping up to the warded fence surrounding the dragon. "I hope the bastards were fined out their arses for harbouring her."

"The Ministry could care less," she replied harshly. Rumbles moved slowly across her spacious pen, wings tight to her sides, her eyes unnaturally friendly and playful towards the humans.

Draco rocked back on his heels, gaze still locked on the Ridgeback. "Case says she's refusing raw food."

"Unfortunately," Ginny confirmed, nodding.

He studied the dragon with narrowed eyes for several minutes in silence, and then finally said, "Her size will work against her, of course. The charitable crowd is much more receptive to babies and small, cuddly creatures. We won't be able to rely on word of mouth, even with my persuasive abilities." He arched a brow at Ginny and she groaned.

"Please don't tell me--"

"A gala ball, my dear Weasley," he cut in happily. "One which you will be required to attend, as well as your little crew here. Oh, and Blaise," he added with a wicked grin. "He should be rolling into town soon."

"Why Blaise?" she asked.

"Because he's pretty, and is almost as excellent at charming the diamonds off old women as myself. And because Potter will most assuredly be there."

Knowing he was right about Harry, who'd always done anything in his power to help her and the Refuge, Ginny cocked her head to the side. "And that's important because...?"

"Because logic dictates that Potter is still miserably pining after him, and I know for a fact that Blaise is bringing home an Italian Count."

It was Ginny's turn to arch a brow. "And you're hoping for some sort of brawl in the middle of the dance floor?"

"Nonsense. Potter's too much of a gentleman to ruin an event for your farm. He'll just be wonderfully broody, and each twist of the knife in his heart is balm for my soul." He ignored Ginny's curled lip of disgust and tapped his fingers on the fence in thought. "The key is going to be emphasizing her tameness," he said slowly. "A large courtyard with a pen ought to do it."

"Are you suggesting we set up Rumbles as an amusement at the ball?" Ginny asked, incredulous.

"They meet her first hand, she bats her big green eyes and coos at them, and then they fall madly in love, throwing Galleons into our coffers. Just look at her, she's got the perfect mug for the public eye." The dragon in question was indeed cooing at them, her head low to the ground and nuzzling into the straw like a purring cat. "It'll perfectly counteract her age."

"She's tame, Malfoy, but she's still a wild animal," Ginny pointed out. "Unpredictable and volatile. I refuse to allow her anywhere near the populace."

"I'm sorry," Draco said mockingly. "I wasn't aware you were already provided with enough donations to feed and house this dragon for the rest of her life. My mistake."

Ginny tapped her toe in irritation. "And will you be paying off any liable suits? Really, Malfoy, we can't do it. The potential for disaster is astronomical."

"She's as placid as a cow, Weasley," Draco said.

"Why not dress Barkley up, then?" Ginny quipped. She wasn't going to budge one inch on this.

"If we're going in that vein, we could just as easily do Longbottom," Draco threw back at her.

Ginny blinked at him. "We could do Neville?"

Draco's grey eyes lit with perverse amusement. "You've a dirty mind, Weasley."

"Such horrid mental images," Ginny laughed, pressing her palm over her eyes. "Thanks, Malfoy."

"What?" Draco sniggered. "He's not that bad looking a bloke. A bit roundish, but all and all... not hideous."

Ginny paused mid-giggle. "Please don't tell me you're truly advocating a threesome."

"Foursome, if you count Suze. Which I'm guessing Longbottom definitely would." His laughter petered off into a rare wide grin. "Hmmm... wonder if he'd make a willing swinger..."

"How did you know about Nev and Suze?" She'd mentioned Suze's engagement, but Neville hadn't even been dating the leggy brunette the last time Draco had been sniffing around.

Draco gave her a patronizing smirk. "They were one step away from ripping each other's clothes off when I was here last."

"They were?" Ginny asked, eyes wide.

"Yes, of course," he said lightly. "Your observational skills astound me, Weasley. Now that we're agreed about Rumbles here, I'll get started on all the arrangements. Or rather, Ruth will," he elaborated, referring to his long-suffering secretary. "In the meantime, I'll search out possible rehab camps for her, and then focus on a permanent home."

"We've haven't agreed on anything, Malfoy."

"Which is surprisingly good enough for me. Ruth will be in contact with all the details." He swept a glance over her. "Get a pretty dress, will you? Can't have you showing up in overalls. In fact, just to be safe I'll have Ruth take you out for a bit of shopping."

"I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself," she growled. "Besides, with Rumbles there, I'll have to spend the majority of my time watching her."

"Oh no, you won't," Draco said, guiding her out of the barn and into the sunlight. "You, my dear, will be schmoozing with all the dirty old men."

"And that comment wasn't sexist at all," Ginny said dryly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Draco turned and started walking back up the path, ducks trailing after him, and Ginny, after a resigned sigh, followed suit.

"I'll try to be back to check on things in a few days," he tossed over his shoulder.

"You're not staying?" Ginny asked, suddenly awash in irrational disappointment.

He shot her an unreadable glance as she came abreast of him. "I want to get this organized as quickly as possible; three weeks at the latest. Mother will pitch a fit, but there's nothing to be done. We want Rumbles at her most tame. Rumbles," he muttered. "I can't believe you went along with that one. At least the cutesy factor should charm the attendees."

Ginny was only half-listening, her mind seized up in disbelief. She actually wanted Draco to stay and harass her? Had she suddenly morphed into some sort of masochistic fool? She shook off her disturbing thoughts when she noticed him staring at her expectantly. "What?"

"I asked if you'd thought about opening the place up to the Wizarding public. It'd help with the everyday expenses, you know."

"Millicent would have my head," Ginny replied, knowing that odds were that statement could actually be taken literally. When she'd approached the older woman four years ago – who at the time had been lauded as a brilliant Magical Zoologist, barely three years out of Hogwarts - with the proposal of a refuge, Millicent had been adamant about providing a controlled environment for the animals. It was enough that the neighbourhood children tried her temper. "There are some delicate species here, Malfoy. It's not meant to be a zoo."

Although, she admitted to herself, that had been her and Neville's original intention. Millicent had certainly set them straight on that account, though, and they'd realized right off the bat that they wouldn't be able to manage without the ex-Slytherin's expertise.

Draco shrugged. "Merely a suggestion, Weasley. Now, I've got to check in with Ruth and Mother before heading back to Romania." He glanced at his wristwatch, which was urging him to 'get a move on.' "I've got a meeting with an investor in a few hours. Do you have the final specs for Longbottom's organic nursery?"

"In Neville's office," she said, gesturing towards the house. It was Neville's pet project; they already grew and harvested their own feed for most of the animals on the complex, but the Herbologist had been planning for over a year the creation of a large scale operation. Draco, his fingers already dipped in the financial aspect of the Refuge, was quick to see the benefits, and profits, of such an endeavour.

As Draco stalked up the steps and into the lodge, Ginny felt a strange pang of wistfulness that coincided with her previous feelings of disappointment. She was thoroughly disgusted with herself and pushed all thoughts of Malfoy aside, turning to make her way down towards the Thestral paddock to help Millicent.

******

Inevitably, in the days that followed, Draco's mother took over the helm of party planning, and it wasn't long before Ginny received a formal invitation to tea at the Malfoy Mansion. She accepted with only some reserve, and the appointed day found her tugging absently on the hem of her robe sleeves as a house-elf led her into a small, ornately decorated parlour to the right of the front foyer.

Narcissa Malfoy was coldly beautiful and unfailingly polite, ruthless when warranted, frightfully insightful and, truthfully... one of Ginny's favourite people.

It might seem odd, of course, that she looked so favourably on the widow of her family's worst enemy, but there was something about the older woman that drew Ginny. She'd spent a fair amount of time with her over the past two years, since she more often than not headed any social event Draco put together for the Refuge, and Ginny had found that, when you peeled away her layers and got right down to her soul, Narcissa was eminently likable.

Which was not to say that Ginny wasn't always wary in Narcissa's presence. Like her son, she had the ability to say one thing and mean quite another, without question or suspect.

"Now, my dear," Narcissa said as she motioned for Ginny to take a seat next to her on the settee, "I know you'll want him all to yourself on the dance floor, but I hope you won't mind if I steal Draco away for a few dances at the ball."

Ginny gave her a blank stare, a biscuit frozen halfway to her lips. "Why would I want to dance with Draco?"

"It's what couples do, dear. Oh, please don't say you don't dance?" she asked, a mild expression of horror on her pale face.

Couples? "Draco and I aren't dating," Ginny explained lamely.

"Oh!" Narcissa exclaimed, and then fell into a pensive silence. After a few moments, she reached for Ginny's arm. "I don't normally like to pry in Draco's love life, Ginny, but would you mind terribly telling me why you broke up?"

"We didn't--"

"You're engaged, then?" Excitement laced her voice. "I can't believe Draco didn't tell me!"

Ginny was understandably bewildered. Had Malfoy told his mother that they were dating? It certainly wasn't an original ploy for getting a meddling mother to back off, but she didn't really think that Narcissa was the sort to harp on her son about marriage and heirs. Still... if that was the case, why wouldn't he have warned her?

Not wanting to drop the charade, since Draco had obviously been desperate enough to toss her name around in connection with his, Ginny shook her head. "No, we simply feel we've gone beyond the dating phase."

"Then I daresay engagement is right around the corner." Narcissa smiled slyly at her.

Ginny's faltering smile was pained. "I can only hope. Mrs. Malfoy..."

"Call me Narcissa, dear. We're practically family."

Ginny swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry, and took a small sip of tea. "Ah, yes. Well, I was wondering if you could at all persuade Draco against using Rumbles at the ball."

"But I think it's a wonderful idea," Narcissa protested. "Most of the attendees have never even seen a real dragon. Why, the response has been so overwhelming we've had to book two more adjoining banquet halls to the ballroom." She patted Ginny's arm again. "Everything will be perfect, you'll see. Now," she went on directly, "I know Draco's appointed Ruth to take you shopping, but I just can't help myself. You've got the most darling little figure."

Not wanting to be rude, Ginny merely said, "I don't wish to take up any more of your time, Mrs-Narcissa."

"Nonsense," she said briskly. "Something simple, I think. Blue. Midnight blue, with perhaps some silver trim on the outer robes. Nothing too ostentatious, of course, with your colouring."

"Narcissa," Ginny said, trying not to groan aloud at the thought of spending the afternoon shopping with Draco's mum, "I know Draco seems to think I'm incapable of picking out anything other than jeans, but I do happen to already have a formal outfit close to that description. We could look it over before wasting any time shopping. After all, there's so much else that needs to be taken care of before the ball isn't there?"

She could see the disappointment warring with relief, due to Narcissa's keen sense of time management, on the blond woman's face. "That would be more practical. And I did want to stop by the florist to see how she's managing with those snapdragons for the centrepieces. They're rather hard to work with."

If she hadn't been so conscientious of her posture in front of the older woman, Ginny would have slumped down into the seat in relief. As it was, she flashed Narcissa a brilliant smile.

The woman blinked over at her, and then light laughter bubbled out of her throat. "You really didn't want to go shopping, did you?"

Ginny's grin turned slightly sheepish.

"No matter," Narcissa said, taking a sip of tea. "I'm sure your dress robes will be fine. Although I do wish to look at them, just to be safe," she added, her blue-grey eyes twinkling with mischief.

Thanking her stars that Narcissa seemed to be in a light-hearted mood, Ginny said, "Of course," and bit into a lemon tart that nearly made her moan. "This is fantastic," she said after swallowing the little piece of heaven.

"Cecil makes them. Lovely, aren't they?"

"How can you not be fat as a cow?" Ginny commented without thinking, practically drooling over the near-full plate of tarts.

Narcissa's tinkling laughter filled the room again. "Oh, I can see why Draco's so infatuated with you, my dear."

"Erm..." Ginny's cheeks bloomed bright red. Had she really just used the words 'fat' and 'cow' in front of Draco's mother? "I'm so sorry, I--"

"No need to apologize, Ginny." She tipped her head to the side, a small smile on her face. "You are entirely too sweet for your own good."

Ginny's eyes widened. She'd been called many things before, but sweet definitely wasn't one of them. Loud-mouthed, yes. Rash, thick, hot-tempered, stubborn, and loyal, more times than she could count... Caring, possibly... but certainly not sweet. She wasn't quite sure how to take it. "Thank you," she said hesitantly.

Smile still gracing her lips, Narcissa leaned forward and set her teacup on the table. "It wasn't a compliment," she elaborated, not unkindly.

Not knowing what else to say, Ginny hastily said, "I'm sorry--"

"If you're going to be a Malfoy, Ginny," Narcissa cut in pointedly, one slim eyebrow arched, "you'll have to learn that speaking your mind is a right, and you should never have to apologize for it."

"I'm..." Ginny trailed off, swallowing her words with a pained grimace at the reprimand buried in Narcissa's eyes. Straightening slightly in her seat and tilting her chin up in what she hoped was an arrogant angle, she stated firmly, "I'm not sorry at all." And at the same time, her mind was racing headlong towards a panic. Crap, damn, fuck... What will Narcissa think when she finds out that Draco and her were nowhere near getting married? She should have just denied the whole thing from the beginning. Malfoy was going to pay dearly for getting her into this mess.

******

"He's back."

Ginny's head whipped up, heart fluttering in her ribcage. Malfoy? She'd barely seen him in the past two weeks since he'd been at the Refuge to see Rumbles, and she desperately wanted to talk to him about his mother before the ball. "Who's back?" she asked Neville breathlessly.

"Joshua. They called him," he glanced down at the paperwork clutched in his hand, "a spawn of the devil."

"Spawn of the devil?"

"A hell beast," Neville went on.

"Joshua? The little pig?"

"Yep," Neville nodded, still flipping through the pages. "Apparently, he terrorized the other pigs, lunged threateningly whenever the family approached, and ate three pairs of fine silk knickers, which they've graciously decided not to make us pay for."

Ginny snorted. "Well, where is he, then?"

"Right here... um..." Neville stooped down and glanced into the large beige animal crate. "He's gone."

"Crap."

"Couldn't have gotten far, though," he said, scratching his chin. "Little bugger didn't even make a peep."

"All right. Why don't you go get Millicent and we'll spread out across the complex. The wards will at least keep him on the grounds." Ginny sighed and surveyed the land, her eyes taking in the different pens and paddocks, the animals shifting listlessly under the hot sun. There was no pig in sight.

She started down past Orlic the donkey's pen, skirted the duck pond, and came up on the other side of Barkley's corral - which she was currently sharing with two Shetland ponies - giving the cow's broad forehead an absent scratch before starting over to the magical animal section of the compound.

Millicent met her halfway, a scowl at her lips. "Any sign of him?" she asked.

Ginny shook her head and said wryly, "I'd call to him, but we all know that wouldn't work."

Neville's hoarse shout echoed across the grassy field and the two women gave each other alarmed looks, and then started running full tilt towards the fence that edged the Thestrals' paddock.

"Miss Gin, Miss Millie!" Lucy and Tim shouted in unison, waving their arms at them frantically. As Ginny and Millicent approached, the twins turned and raced down to… Rumbles' pen.

Ginny's heart jumped up into her throat, but she swallowed down her fear and followed the children. She gave a sigh of relief when she saw Neville just inside the door, unharmed, but nervously shifting from foot to foot.

Stepping up next to him, they saw that Joshua, snorting happily, had his nose dipped into Rumble's water trough. Neville's wand was palmed and ready, but he was obviously hesitating over the matter. And Ginny knew exactly why.

Instinct to save the pig was countered by the fact that Rumbles was inching towards him, nostrils flared and eyes curious. They needed the dragon on raw food, and wasn't this just the perfect opportunity? But... it was Joshua. Spawn of Satan or not, they'd grown quite fond of the little bugger during his stay at the Refuge. If nothing else, he was entertaining. Could they really just stand by and watch him get ripped apart by the Ridgeback?

Millicent, ever the level headed, logical witch, calmly reached out and placed her hand over Neville's, lowering his wand for him. The three then turned around and walked out of the barn silently, shutting the door behind them with a click that seemed to echo in Ginny's head. She couldn't believe they were actually leaving him in there with the dragon, but she knew it was for the best.

Lucy and Tim had spent half their lives at the Refuge, and were well aware of the necessities and inevitabilities of life and death. Their faces dropped when Ginny simply shook her head and urged them away from the barn door with a soft hand on each of their shoulders, but they didn't cry or complain.

The five of them trooped dully up to lodge, and Ginny had to fight off a sniffle and the itching welling of tears. It was a pig, for Merlin's sake. Nothing to get all blubbery about.

A loud crack stopped them all in their tracks and Blaise Zabini appeared in front of them, two large suitcases in hand and a wide smile on his face. The smile faltered as he caught sight of their expressions. "So who died?" he asked, half-jokingly.

Ginny, to her everlasting horror, failed to stifle a large sob.

This, of course, set the twins off, who wrapped their arms around Ginny's waist, burrowing their tear-filled faces into her shirt. Neville patted her shoulder awkwardly, mumbling incoherent comforting sounds. Millicent pushed past them all and, sending a disgusted scowl at Blaise, stalked into the lodge.

"What?" Blaise asked, bewildered. "Someone actually did die?" He glanced them over, noting that Case was the only one he hadn't seen yet. "Not Case?"

Ginny sniffed and dug her palms into her eyes, chuckling at the absurdity of it all. "No, not Case." She shook her head. "You certainly don't have the best timing, Blaise."

As Millicent's best friend, Blaise had a standing invitation to stay at the Refuge, which he usually took them up on at least a half dozen times a year. The dark-haired man was dry-witted and amusing, and no one really minded that he completely overtook the second floor bathroom whenever he visited. Only Millie grumbled about his bad habits, but her complaints were largely ignored, since anyone with eyes could see the two of them were as close as siblings.

"Well, if everyone's alright," he said, giving the leaking group an odd look, "I'll just get myself settled inside."

******

A black cloud hung over the occupants of the kitchen the next morning, everyone eating almost mechanically as the sun crept over the horizon.

"It's not as if an animal hasn't died on you before," Blaise tactlessly pointed out, confusion laced through his voice. He was feeling a bit put out about the depressed funk that permeated the air around the Refuge, since the lodge was usually a place he went to cheer himself up.

Ginny had given up on trying to explain to him the differences between letting an animal die, and having a creature die despite all you've done to help save it.

"He brought it on himself, didn't he?" Blaise went on, unheeding.

With deliberate calm, Ginny placed her fork next to her plate and folded her hands in her lap. "Blaise, shut up."

Getting a bit angry himself, Blaise snapped, "You didn't shove him in there, did you? Fuck, you're all just feeling sorry for yourselves."

"Blaise," Millicent growled a warning.

Lucy looked to be on the edge of tears, and Case said softly, "Someone's got to go feed her breakfast."

Silence rounded the table, each person in turn blinking down at their plates, Blaise glaring moodily out the kitchen window.

Finally, Ginny pushed back from the table and rose. "I'll do it."

"No, Gin," Neville protested. "I'll do it. I was the one who--"

"It's all right," Ginny cut in, giving him a small smile. It wasn't Neville's fault, and she didn't want him to think she blamed him for not helping Joshua. They'd all carry that burden of guilt together.

Her steps were slow as she lugged Rumbles' buckets of mush across the complex. Barkley mooed a greeting as she passed, but she didn't stop to fuss over the bovine. The ducks raced after her, quacking a happy morning song, but she ignored them, eyes fastened on the looming barn at the edge of the grounds, darkly foreboding, backlit by the low, orange morning sun.

The sight that awaited her inside Rumbles' pen nearly caused her to drop the buckets in shock. The dragon, eyes sleep-blurred, lay with her bony head stretched into the straw, a pink ball curled up against her jawbone. When she spotted Ginny, she lifted her head expectantly, blinking rapidly and giving a roaring yawn.

The pink ball snorted and rolled onto its feet. Joshua. The little bugger was still alive!

Ginny let out a half-hysterical laugh. Joshua was alive. It seemed as though Rumbles still didn't have a taste for raw flesh, and Ginny felt a well of relief so huge flood through her that it cancelled out any concern she held for the dragon's rehabilitation.

She practically flew back to the lodge and jumped Neville, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly on the lips. She repeated the performance with Blaise and Case, but stopped short at Millicent when the brunette narrowed her eyes meaningfully and bared her teeth.

"What's going on?" Blaise asked, the first to recover his voice from shock.

"Joshua's fine," she crowed, doing an excited shuffle and hugging Blaise again.

"Joshua's... fine?" Neville asked, wide-eyed. "Fine... as in alive and fine?"

Ginny nodded. "Alive and fine!"

"Well, that's just great, isn't it?" Blaise surveyed the now grinning group, wondering slightly about their sanity. It was just a Muggle pig, after all.

"And Rumbles?" Millicent asked, the dragon her first and foremost concern.

"Still not partial to raw food," Case stated obviously.

"No, but at the moment, I don't really care. I say we get Joshua out of there before she does get the right idea about him," Ginny said quickly. "He's survived the night for a reason, don't you think?"

Millicent grumbled, but everyone agreed that it would be best to try and free the pig and clear their guilty consciences.

Blaise just smiled and dropped back down into his chair at the kitchen table, shovelling a bit more bacon and eggs onto his plate. All the talk about Joshua was making him hungry.

******

Ginny stood next to Neville at the edge of Rumbles' pen, Millicent's words – No magic unless it's absolutely necessary – echoing in her head. The Zoologist was unsure how any spell would react to the medication the dragon was on for her viral infection, so unless one of them was in danger of being mauled, they'd have to capture the pig by Muggle means. Again.

"I'll get him," Ginny said, stepping up to the fence. "I've had some practice."

Neville clutched his wand in his fist and eyed the dragon warily. "Are you sure?"

She nodded and started climbing the fence, throwing a leg over the top to straddle it. The wards around the pen were weak for the same reason that they couldn't throw incantations at Rumbles, and so they were only specified to keep the dragon inside the barn. Any other creature could freely come and go, which was how Joshua had squirmed into the pen in the first place.

Dropping down on the other side, Ginny rubbed her hands together and cautiously started forward. "Just keep an eye on her, Nev," she said, moving towards the pig that was nestled up to the bucket of treats they'd placed clear on the opposite end of the pen as Rumbles' food.

"Uh... Gin?"

She was almost upon the animal, her hands curved and hovering above his body. "What?" she hissed. And then she felt it; the hot breath on her neck, the steam curling around her back, the wheezing pants that came just before a roar.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Neville raise his wand and she shouted, "Don't!" just before the dragon sucked in a breath and a blast of scalding hot smoke seared across her skin.

In a split-second, she dropped to the ground and rolled, then scrambled to her feet and ran for the fence, fear overriding any pain. Pitching herself over the wooden slats, she collapsed with a groan at Neville's feet.

"Gin, are you all right?" he asked, crouching down.

"Fine," she coughed. Large, angry red welts covered her arms, practically sizzling, and she was sure her neck and face looked just as bad. Luckily, her shirt and jeans had protected the rest of her body.

Neville gingerly helped her to her feet. "I don't think we should take Joshua away from her," he said shakily, nodding his head towards the pen.

Rumbles had positioned herself between them and the pig, her head low and tilted slightly, three-fourths of an intense green eye watching them, following their every movement.

"She's protecting him," Ginny noted, incredulous.

"Good thing she can't breathe fire," Neville said, sounding a bit breathless himself. "S-smoke does enough damage. Can you make it to St. Mungo's?"

Ginny shook her head, eyes still on the dragon and her newfound pal. "Don't need the hospital. Just Floo Hermione, would you?" The pig was doing a fascinating impression of a bull, lunging playfully at one of Rumbles' back legs.

"Hermione. Right," Neville replied woodenly.

Tearing her gaze from the pen, she looked up to see Neville staring at her, his face pale and breath shallow. "Neville? Nev, it's all right. I'm fine, and I know you've seen worse," she said, wincing as her entire body suddenly started throbbing, her heart pounding thickly in every limb. She licked her lips and swallowed. "Remember when Millie got a huge chunk taken out of her calf by that Hippogriff? Nev?"

The Hippogriff incident was clearly the wrong thing to bring up, as he turned a shade lighter than white and was, if the hitching rise and fall of his chest was any indication, very close to hyperventilating.

"Neville, don't you dare faint on me," she said sternly, taking a step towards him. She sucked her breath in with a hiss as the blistering welts on her arms tightened and started oozing.

"Oh my gods," Blaise shouted hoarsely from the doorway, staring at Ginny with wide eyes.

"Um..." Ginny gritted her teeth as a wave of pain flooded her body, pulsing at the nerve endings of her skin and making blackness swim before her eyes. "It's not as bad as it looks," she rasped. Then she promptly passed out.

******

Ginny blinked awake, her mouth feeling suspiciously like cotton and her body aching from head to toe. From the blinding whiteness that surrounded her, she deduced she wasn't in her bedroom at home, which, in a rare fit of decorator frenzy, she'd painted hunter green the year before.

"You scared the hell out of Blaise," a gruff voice came from beside her.

She rolled her head to find Draco sitting in an uncomfortable, metal, hospital issued chair pulled up next to her bed. "Malfoy," she said thickly.

"Longbottom almost had a heart attack," he went on, shaking his head ruefully, a low chuckle escaping his lips.

"What... what are you doing here?"

He arched a brow. "Well, someone had to be the coolheaded one," he said simply. "By the time I arrived, Blaise was sobbing over your prone body and Longbottom had heaved up what looked like everything he'd eaten for the past week, and could barely manage to stand."

The door creaked open and Ginny glanced up to see Hermione, hair tugged viciously back into a bun and clipboard in hand, approaching her bed. "You're awake," she said. "Thank goodness. Malfoy, move out of the way." She bumped his arm with her hip and he scooted his chair back, then stood and walked to the door.

"I'll see you next week at the ball, Weasley," he said, nodding his head towards her. "This stunt won't get you out of that one."

"Malfoy, wait..." Ginny called out weakly, but he'd already left the room. She turned to Hermione. "Why was Malfoy here?" she asked.

Hermione unwound a bandage on her arm, revealing shiny pink new skin, and grunted in satisfaction. "You'll be good as new in a few hours," she commented absently.

"Hermione," Ginny said, her voice stronger.

"Yes, Gin?" She continued removing the wrappings, then opened a jar of foul smelling cream and started rubbing it vigorously into her skin. "This may sting a bit."

"Hermione..."

"Thank Merlin Malfoy got you here so quickly. I don't think there'll be any scarring at all, although why you were in a dragon's pen to begin with is beyond me," she gave Ginny a faintly reproachful look. "I've had every Weasley, up to and including Percy's entire brood, troop through my wing this afternoon. And let me tell you, Percy's twins are ten times worse than Fred and George ever were. Sticky fingers into everything. Then Sour-Face Bulstrode brought Blaise and Neville by, and I thought I was going to have to give them both tranquillisers, they were so upset." Hermione had moved onto her face, smoothing the cream into her skin only marginally more gently. "At least Malfoy's finally left."

"Hermione," Ginny tried once again to gain the Medi-witch's attention. "Why was Malfoy even here?"

Hermione shrugged. "Who knows why the Ferret does anything? I've given up trying to figure that bloke out. Personally, I think any thorough examination of his character would be far too frightening."

"But don't you find it strange--"

"Malfoy is the epitome of all that is strange and evil." At a look from Ginny, Hermione grimaced. "All right, not evil. Except in the devious, I'm so arrogantly Slytherin and you are all beneath me evil sense. So no, I don't find it strange. What I find strange is why you care." Finished with her ministrations, she took a step back and placed her hands on her hips.

"Oh, I don't care at all."

"Uh huh, sure." Hermione nodded her head, looking sceptical.

"I was just curious." She flexed her fingers and pushed herself up into a sitting position. "Whatever you've put on me is miraculous. I don't feel any pain at all."

Hermione gave her a searching glance, and then sat down on the edge of the bed. "Gin, you aren't having any... feelings for Malfoy, are you?"

"What?" Ginny spat out, taken aback. "Feelings? For Malfoy?" she scoffed.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure. I mean, you know how Malfoy is... and I wouldn't want you to get tangled up with such a..."

"Pig?" Ginny finished for her.

Hermione smiled. "Well, I was going to say philanderer, but pig will do."

"You know," Ginny said thoughtfully, "I don't think I've ever seen him with the same woman twice."

"That," Hermione pointed out, "is what's known as serial dating. He's most likely a commitment phobe with an insatiable sexual appetite."

Ginny felt her cheeks burn at Hermione's matter-of-fact attitude towards Malfoy's sexual habits, and was thankful that her new pink skin covered the blush. "Yes, well, apparently he's told his mother that he's dating me."

"Really?" Hermione asked, mouth slack with shock.

"It's not that shocking, you know," Ginny said, slightly put out. "I'm not entirely unattractive."

"Oh no, Gin," Hermione covered her hand with hers and squeezed lightly. "You're fabulously attractive. I just can't see Malfoy... doing something like that. Can you?"

Ginny sighed. "Not really."

"Did he tell you why?"

"I haven't had a chance to speak to him about it. Narcissa was actually the one who brought it up." She plucked at the thin, cotton blanket that covered her legs. "It can't hurt to go along with it, I suppose. Except that I pretty much adore Narcissa, and wish to Merlin that Malfoy had never put me in this position. If this doesn't work out perfectly in my favour, Malfoy is dead."

"I'll help you dispose of his body," Hermione said, releasing her hand and getting up from the bed. "Now, you sleep a bit. I think Case and his kids are set to pick you up in a few more hours and I'm sure the Refuge will be a madhouse by the time you get back. Best to get all the rest you can right now."

Ginny smiled through a yawn. "Thanks, Hermione."

"Anything for you, Gin," Hermione said, pulling up the covers and tucking them under her chin.

Snuggling into the blankets, visions of Hermione dragging a battered Malfoy through the dirt of a freshly dug hole flittered through her mind. She chuckled as she drifted off to sleep.

******

Ginny stood nervously at the edge of the dance floor, clutching a pint of lager in her narrow hands. Periodically, she flicked her gaze to the open French doors leading out to the courtyard, watching as Millie leaned against the makeshift pen they'd constructed for the dragon. She, Neville, and Millicent were taking turns watching Rumbles, since Malfoy insisted they each put in an appearance in the ballroom and be available to chat up potential investors.

Towards the middle of the square marble dance floor, Ginny could see Neville dancing with Suze, their foreheads lightly touching as they swayed slowly to the music. She sighed and shifted her feet restlessly; the sight of her two friends together always made her a bit wistful and sad.

"Your lack of breeding is showing," Blaise said as he sidled up next to her, plucking the beer from her fingers and replacing it with a long-stemmed goblet of red wine.

Ginny pulled a face. "I hate wine."

"Think of it this way," Blaise said obligingly, "you'll get far more sloshed with a few glasses of wine then you ever would with this." He shot the beer a disgusted look before handing it off to a passing waiter.

"And I'll also have a blinding headache in the morning," she groused.

"Appearances, dear Weasley," Blaise replied cheerfully.

"Speaking of," Ginny started, taking a sip of wine, "have you seen Malfoy yet?"

Blaise shook his head. "Haven't spotted him, although I'm sure he's been here for hours already, making sure everything is perfect."

Ginny nodded, scanning the ballroom for Malfoy's shining cap of hair. Luckily, she hadn't seen Narcissa yet, either. "By the way," she asked, slanting Blaise a sly glance, "whatever happened to your Italian Count?"

He looked at her blankly. "Who?"

"Malfoy mentioned you were bringing home an Italian Count."

"Oh," Blaise rolled his eyes. "That was just to get Draco off my back."

"So there wasn't a Count?"

He gave her a wicked grin. "No, of course there was a Count. I just never had any intention of bringing him home."

"Blaise."

The slim, dark-haired ex-Slytherin froze, smile faltering, and then turned slowly towards the other man. "Harry."

Ginny watched the exchange silently, biting her lip and torn between leaving the two alone, or standing by as a referee if needed.

"It's good to see you," Harry said softly, brilliant green eyes roving over Blaise's face.

Blaise clasped his hands together behind his back and nodded. "Good to see you, too," he commented, voice slightly clipped.

Harry smiled over at Ginny. "You look lovely," he said, leaning forward to peck her cheek.

"Thanks, Harry." Self-consciously, she smoothed a hand over her blue silk over robes. They were plain and unassuming, but Narcissa had deemed them elegant enough for the occasion. "You do, too."

He gave a short laugh. "I'm a mess and you know it," he said, glancing down at himself. His plain black dress robes were creased and wrinkled, and covered an equally black and sombre oxford. Black, too-long trousers completed the outfit, and Ginny decided it was far too dark for his complexion, making him look just a little bit sickly in the candlelight.

"You never could dress yourself, Potter," Blaise drawled, a hint of fondness in his tone.

Harry shrugged, knowing it was inarguably true, and asked, "Care to dance, Blaise?" with a faint, hopeful smile, holding a hand out to him.

For a moment, Ginny thought Blaise was going to say no, but after a slight hesitation, he nodded his head and slipped his palm into Harry's. As they moved onto the dance floor, Ginny caught sight of Malfoy weaving towards her through the throng of attendees, stopping every now and then to greet friends and acquaintances.

"You look passable, Weasley," he said with a smirk when he reached her side.

"Thanks," she murmured dryly.

"Now we just need to work on your walk."

"What's wrong with how I walk?"

"You walk like a man," he explained, taking a sip of wine and grimacing almost imperceptibly. "Merlin, I hate wine," he groused under his breath.

Ginny gaped at him, affronted. "I what?"

"Walk like a man; straight-hipped with long, forward strides. No sway at all. Your arse should... swing a little."

Ginny's fingers tightened around the wine stem, threatening to snap the glass in half. "My bum should swing?"

"You move far too purposefully," he went on, ignoring the warning in her tone. "But then, everything about you is efficient, isn't it, Weasley?" he added, raking his eyes over her slight figure.

Ginny couldn't believe his gall, but before she could do something drastic, such as Transfigure him into a very small turtle, she saw Narcissa watching them from across the room. "Call me Ginny," she hissed at Malfoy.

"What?"

Turning to gaze up at him, she said, "Call me Ginny, Draco," then spotted Narcissa moving towards them, a small frown creasing her face. "Crap, she's seen us arguing. You owe me huge for this, Malfoy." She reached up and cupped the back of his neck, urging him to bend down towards her.

"I don't--"

Her lips covering his muffled his protests, and their noses bumped awkwardly before she canted her head to the right and placed a hand to his cheek. Ginny felt him stiffen, his mouth unyielding against hers, and she pinched the back of his neck, hissing in a low voice, "At least make it look real, Malfoy."

Hands pressed into her back hesitantly, and as her body curved more fully into his, the tenseness slowly eased from his stance.

Ginny nibbled across his now pliant lower lip. "Better," she whispered. His mouth felt rather nice, pleasantly firm, against hers and she fought the instinct to deepen the kiss, conscious of their audience.

"Ahem," a voice said lightly from behind them, and Ginny released Draco to glance over her shoulder.

Narcissa, lovely in blood red dress robes, stood with a brow arched. Slight reproach shone in her eyes, but amusement laced her voice as she asked Draco for a dance.

"Of course, Mother," Draco said politely, shooting Ginny a bewildered frown as he led his mother into the crush of dancers. He placed his hand on her waist, the other lightly flexed around her slim fingers.

"She's quite pretty, isn't she?" she commented, smiling up at him.

"I suppose," he said after a short pause, not bothering to pretend he didn't know who she was talking about, which had been his first instinct.

"Excellent breeding," she went on in an offhand voice.

He gave her a sharp glance. "A Weasley?"

"Yes," she stated calmly, "a Weasley. There is nothing wrong with their bloodline, no matter what filth your father fed you."

"I know that," Draco said slowly. "I just never knew you'd realized it as well."

Narcissa nodded and let the comment pass. "I see you haven't brought a date tonight."

"I have," he said, eyes scanning the ballroom. "But it seems she's disappeared. That wouldn't have been your doing, would it, Mother?"

"Oh, of course not. You know I never meddle in your affairs." She hummed along with the music as they twirled, fingers tapping on his shoulder.

"All right, Mother," Draco said finally. "What have you done?"

"Me?" she asked, wide-eyes deceptively innocent. "Why, nothing at all. Although…" she bit her lip, "I do believe your lovely Miss Weasley might be under the impression that I think you two are dating."

"She might?" Draco's left brow rose. "And why is that?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Just a silly little comment I made about couples. Nothing to worry about."

"Let me guess, she's most likely jumped to the erroneous conclusion that I told you that the two of us were dating."

"Perhaps," she said airily, smiling up at him. "Although I really can't be held responsible for any wayward thoughts the girl might have. I told her nothing of the sort."

"Of course not, Mother," Draco commented dryly.

"You do look rather nice together, even if kissing in public is highly frowned upon," she said pointedly, "and considered beyond tasteless."

"That was not my doing," Draco said firmly. "And if I had to hazard another guess, I would say it was most likely your fault to begin with. Weasley doesn't do well under pressure."

"And I was bearing down on you two like a dragon. Yes, I know. Entirely my fault," Narcissa sighed.

"A Malfoy taking blame? Will wonders never cease."

"That's trite, Draco, and completely unbecoming. Please try to show some respect for your dear, sweet mother."

"You're right, of course, Mother," Draco said as the song ended and he led her off the dance floor. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must try and find my date and explain a few things to the Weaslette."

******

"Red Rover, this is Green Thumb. Do you copy?"

Ginny fished the small Muggle two-way radio that Ron had fashioned to work on a Wizarding wavelength out of her clutch bag and pushed down the 'talk' button. "Yes, Neville?"

After a slight pause, Neville's voice crackled through the small speaker again. "The Pink Menace has disappeared. I repeat: the Pink Menace has disappeared."

Ginny sucked in her breath, darting her eyes around the large room. Over the past week, ever since the attack on Ginny, Rumbles had been on the edge of a bad temper, and it seemed that the only thing that kept the dragon in line was the presence of Joshua. "Okay, don't panic. Where did you last see him?"

She heard a scuffle and some swearing, and then Millicent said, "Weasley, Rumbles is starting to get antsy. Find that pig."

"But where did he go?"

"Check the food stations first. I'm sending Neville 'round the courtyard and main lobby, and I'll stay with Rumbles, try to keep her calmed down. Shit, this is bad."

Ginny knew exactly what she meant. It wasn't that they feared Rumbles would hurt anyone – they'd made several extra precautions, even went so far as to risk a stronger warded fence around the dragon, and, despite Malfoy's protests, no one from the ball was allowed to so much as step out into the courtyard. But any aggressive, non-fluffy behaviour from Rumbles could potentially damage their chances of wringing monies out of the attendees. The whole charity gala would be a disaster.

Smiling and nodding politely, Ginny slowly made her way around the circumference of the ballroom, surreptitiously glancing along the floor, one ear alert for any snorts and oinks. "Stupid pig," she muttered.

"Speaking of me, Weasley?"

"Not hardly, Malfoy, although I can see how you'd think that." She threw him a quick look of disgust before eying the floor again. "Piggy, piggy, where could you be?" she sing-songed under her breath.

Draco followed her line of vision and furrowed his brows. "Are you quite all right, Weasley?"

"Everything's fine, Malfoy," she assured him, then added menacingly, scowling at the floor, "Just fine."

"Maybe you should slow down on the wine," Draco suggested warily, taking the half-empty glass out of her hand. For his trouble he received an obscene gesture from the girl, and a chuckle slipped past his lips. "Watch it, Weasley. Mother might be lurking about."

"Your mother doesn't lurk," she said, moving forward and trying to see under the long table laden with finger food without actually bending down. It didn't really work all that well, though, and as she involuntarily bent her knees and cocked her head a hand grasped her upper arm and yanked her upright again.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, all teasing gone from his tone.

"Nothing, Malfoy," she said, pulling on her arm. "You can let go of me now."

"Not until you tell me--"

"Crap." Ginny narrowed her eyes, sure she'd seen a pink hock flashing underneath the white and gold tablecloth. Pulling harder against Draco's grip, he was forced to release her or risk causing a scene, and she slipped away from him without a backwards glance.

Lifting the small two-way to her mouth, she whispered, "Neville, are you there?"

"Roger, Red Rover. You're coming in loud and clear. Well... soft and raspy, I suppose, but clear."

"Neville," she went on, ignoring the man's babble. He got way too much enjoyment out of the devices. "I think I've spotted him. The buffet table under the giant dragon ice sculpture, the end closer to the punch bowl. I'm going to wait to make a move until you get here."

"I'm on my way; Green Thumb, out."

Ginny shook her head, dropping the radio back into her bag before stashing it off to the side on an unoccupied chair.

She watched the cloven hoofs shift restlessly under the table, his snout appearing every now and then to gobble up a dropped morsel. A minute later she spotted Neville, who gave her a nod and a wavering smile. She pointed to where the pig was hiding and he moved closer, blocking the end of the table and standing on the balls of his feet, ready to give pursuit if needed, the tip of his wand poking out of his robe sleeve.

Ginny palmed her own wand, eager to cast Stupefy at the beast, but leery of disturbing the guests surrounding the tables. She inched closer, and couldn't help thinking that she was the last person that should be trying to catch Joshua, who so clearly disliked her. Bodily injury or humiliation, possibly both, awaited her. She might as well stamp Glutton for Punishment on her forehead. With a half-frustrated, half-resigned sigh, she reached for the linen that was draped over the table.

It was, naturally, difficult to hide the fact that there was a pig loose in their midst's, so Ginny was not surprised by the shouts when, as she shifted the tablecloth, Joshua nudged the ankle of a patron that had wandered too close to his hideout. Dismayed, but not surprised.

And she was equally unsurprised when said pig took off like a shot, making a beeline for the dance floor. The Stunner, an instinctual flick of the wand for Ginny, went high and wide, hitting an unfortunate wizard right between the eyes and knocking him into a group of portly women. With a curse, she shoved her wand back up her robe sleeve and dove into the crowd, rushing after the fleeing pig, Neville only steps behind her.

Body low to the ground, she dodged past people's legs, watching their feet step hastily out of the way, her gaze intent on the animal's pink hide. She was only half-aware of the yelps and shouts of surprise as the pig wove through the crush, thankful that the large amount of attendees worked to her benefit, slowing the pig down as he headed towards the centre of the room.

Afterwards, she wouldn't be able to recall most of the chase, only the moment when her fingers touched pink skin, body moving forward in a roll to cradle the pig against her stomach in a protective gesture, her shoulder receiving the brunt of the fall as she hit the rock hard dance floor.

Breathing heavily, she gazed up at the enormous crystal chandelier, arms tight around the squirming pig. There was a moment of stunned silence, and then the crowd erupted into a barrage of cheers and applause.

Draco's face appeared above her, silver hair haloed by the defused light. "Excellent floorshow, Weasley. But next time, clear it with me first, eh?"

Ginny had just enough energy left to stick her tongue out at him.

"Are you all right, Gin?" Neville asked as he reached her side and grabbed Joshua out of her quivering arms.

She managed a nod, and Neville flashed her a smile before hastening towards the courtyard and the anxious dragon. She didn't blame him his swift abandonment… it was best to reunite Joshua and Rumbles quickly. Still, she could have done with someone other than Draco to assist her off the floor.

"Come on, Weasley," Draco said, bending down to help her up. "That was an impressive manoeuvre at the end. How hurt are you this time?" He wrapped an arm about her waist and hitched her upright, practically lifting her onto her feet.

She winced as the movement jarred her shoulder. "I'm fine; just some bruising, I think."

"Well, we might as well take a quick look at it. Too bad Granger couldn't make it tonight, but I've been known to cast a sufficient Healing Charm now and then," he said as he led her from the dance floor. "Why are you limping?"

"I might have twisted my ankle, too," she murmured, red-cheeked with embarrassment as the patrons watched her retreat from the ballroom intently, a few throwing some words of praise at her as she passed.

They crossed to the alcove just outside the bathrooms, and Ginny sat gingerly on the edge of a loveseat, pulling up her robes to see just how badly her foot had swelled.

"Hang on," Draco said, sitting next to her and flexing her ankle, making sure nothing was broken. "All right, your bones seem to be working properly. Let's just make it feel a little nicer, shall we?" Brandishing his wand, he murmured a Healing Charm and her foot returned to almost normal, only a few purpling marks marring her skin. "Not the best, but at least it won't hurt anymore. Let me take a look at your back."

Ginny obediently shifted in the seat, and Draco coaxed her outer robes off her shoulders. Luckily, the dress underneath was strapless, and he could see the redness where she'd slammed into the floor.

"Hasn't bruised yet, but I bet it's sore."

"Very," Ginny said through gritted teeth as he poked and prodded at it with his wand tip. And then warmth tingled over her skin and she sighed in relief. "Thanks, Malfoy."

"Anything for you, dear Weaslette," he said, tugging her robes back into place.

"Sorry if I ruined your night," Ginny apologized.

"You didn't ruin my night, Weasley," Draco said dryly. "My mother ruined my night. Blaise and Potter getting snugly on the dance floor ruined my night. But you didn't."

"Your mother--"

"Is an incredible meddler, apparently," he finished for her. "I never really suspected that about her before. And you fell right into her trap."

She cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

"I never said anything to Mother about dating you," Draco elaborated, one brow arched and a smirk at his lips. "Although I like how you stepped up to the challenge."

"B-but... why...?" she spluttered, recalling the kiss she'd forced him into earlier with blooming mortification. "She just... made that up?"

"Calm down, Weasley. It isn't that big a deal. She just has you lined up as the mother of her grandchildren." His smirk grew noticeably wider.

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "What? That's just insane--"

"--ly practical, yes, I agree. I told her we'd get right on it."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You did not."

"Of course not, Weasley. The results of a union between you and I would be appalling."

"Appalling, yes," she agreed, although she couldn't help feeling a little insulted. "Besides, you have the attention span of a pixie where women are concerned."

"Yes, well," he drawled, frowning thoughtfully down at her, "I should go and find where Mother stashed my date."

"Fine," she said, standing up and clenching her hands into fists, brow furrowed.

"Fine."

"Fine."

He stared at her speculatively, then moved to block her way as she tried to walk around him. "You're mad."

"No, you're mad. Completely bonkers. Step aside so I can rejoin the party, and receive accolades for that spectacular display of my pig wrestling skills," she huffed.

"Why are you angry?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I'm not angry."

"You sound angry," he pointed out.

"Well, I'm not," she spat, although she clearly was. She didn't know why, exactly, but she had a suspicion it had to do with Draco's date, and how she'd been duped into kissing him earlier.

Draco crossed his arms and looked down his nose at her. "I'm not leaving until you tell me why you're mad."

She matched his stance and arched a brow. "Guess we're going to be here for a while, then." After only a few moments of itching silence, though, Ginny broke down and blurted out, "Why would it be appalling?"

"What?" Draco appeared vaguely confused.

"You and me," she went on resolutely, feeling a blush spread up from her chest. "Why would that be appalling?"

"I said the results would be appalling, Weasley, not the actual..." He trailed off with an irritated growl. "For crap's sake, why are you mad about that?"

"Well, it's just a bit mean, isn't it?" she near yelled. "I may not be overly pretty, but I hardly think a child of mine would be appalling. I thought we'd both grown out of petty insults."

"For the love of..." Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut in a painful grimace. "Did you happen to hit your head when you fell, Weasley?"

Ginny scowled at him.

"Merlin, I need a drink," Draco muttered, turning away from her, then threw over his shoulder, "If we were married, I'd drink myself into an early grave."

She paused a moment, then trailed after him as he wove his way to the bar, in dire need of a few drinks herself. She stepped up next to him as he ordered a Tanqueray on the rocks with a twist, and bit out, "I'll have the same," giving him a look that dared him to argue about it.

Draco shrugged and took a large sip of his drink as the bartender slid hers towards her, one brow arched as she tentatively lifted the glass to her lips. It was strong, and she coughed involuntarily, then shot him a glare when he chuckled.

Late as it was, the ball was nearly over, and she decided that getting sotted might just be a good idea. Steeling herself, she drained the rest of her gin and ordered another.

"You're supposed to savour it, Weasley," Draco drawled, but finished his just as quickly.

******

"If we were married," Ginny stated grandly, leaning heavily on the edge of the bar, "my mum would make you a jumper with a big 'D' on it... for Dumb arse."

Draco, who, after a pint of gin, felt considerably mellow, nodded slowly. "If we were married, Weasley, Father would dig himself out of his grave and disown me."

"Good one," she giggled and cupped her chin in a hand, elbow precariously perched on the slippery bar top. "If we were married, I'd never let you gel your hair." She wrinkled her nose and reached out to ruffle his silver strands.

He batted her hand away, then grabbed her wrist when she lost her balance and staggered sideways, pulling her up to his chest. "If we were married," he said softly, gazing down into her flushed and smiling face, "I'd never let you out of our bedroom."

Ginny's eyes widened. "What?"

"If we were married," he continued slowly, slipping his arms about her narrow back, "I'd lick every inch of your body," he grinned wickedly, "starting with the arch of your left foot... If we were married," his voice grew husky as she melted against him, her fingers clutching the front of his robes, small breasts pressing into his chest, "I'd make you scream my name."

Her breath hitched, lips parted on a gasp as his words made her head spin, belly tightening with swift and sudden lust.

"I'd make you beg," he whispered, bending close to the shell of her ear, hot breath tickling the sensitive skin. "And pant." His lips brushed her throat. "And cry out for more."

"Malfoy..."

"If we were married, I'd take you after tea," he purred, smoothing a hand down to her arse and pulling her closer, slipping the other inside her robes to settle along the side of a breast, "bending you over the spine of Mother's blue silk settee… robes hitched over your back, pretty arse tipped up in the air," he rubbed a thumb over a clothed nipple, "my fingers pressing into your hipbones," his mouth grazed the top of her cheek, "keeping you steady as I thrust slowly inside." He paused, taking in her slightly glazed chocolate eyes, the rapid pulse at the base of her neck. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Ginny?"

She blinked, the use of her proper name jerking her out of her daze, and she flattened her hands on his chest, pushing out of his grip. Breathing hard, she stared at him, incredulous. She hadn't had that much to drink, had she? Not enough to make her insane enough to want him. Yet desire thrummed through every inch of her body, and she took another step backwards. Remember, she admonished herself, attention span of a pixie.

"You couldn't possibly want me, Malfoy," she found herself saying. "You've had too much to drink."

"Maybe," he admitted, licking his lips, although he'd been far wetter in his lifetime, and could recognize a buzz when he had one. "They say alcohol lowers your inhibitions."

Frantically, she glanced around the ballroom, the extremely thinned-out crowd a blessing. Most of the attendees had called it an evening, leaving only the lit and loud ones left to wear out the dance floor. No one had been paying Draco and Ginny the least amount of attention, with the exception of the bartender, who was sending amused glances their way as he served a particularly sotted elderly gentleman.

With a slightly fuzzy mind, Ginny made her way across to where she'd left her bag, struggling with the drawstring and pulling out her small two-way. "Neville?"

After a moment, the line crackled into life. "This is Green Thumb. Gin, where are you?"

She sighed heavily, voice suddenly thick with unshed tears. "I'm still at the ball. Did you and Millie leave long ago?"

"Right after the pig incident. Figured it was best to get Rumbles out of there while the crowd was still riled up from your performance. We looked for you, but you'd disappeared. Is everything all right?"

"Fine," she forced out, voice breaking slightly. "I'm a bit sloshed, though. Can someone come pick me up?"

"Hang on." The line went quiet, and Ginny flashed Draco a wary look across the floor where he still stood by the bar, gazing pensively over at her. She bit her lip, and started when Neville said, "Blaise'll be right there, Gin. He said he'll meet you in the lobby."

"Thanks, Nev," she whispered. Shoving the two-way back into her bag, she slipped around the near-empty buffet table and walked as steadily as she could towards the front foyer, ignoring Draco's watchful gaze.

Blaise appeared with a loud pop as she stepped out of the ballroom, and she gave him a grateful, if watery, smile. "I really appreciate this, Blaise."

"No problem, Gin," he said, eyeing the dishevelled state of her dress robes with speculation. "You look a little worse for wear."

Ginny sighed. "Don't ask."

He stepped closer, then smiled over her shoulder. "Hullo, Draco," he said cheerfully. "Didn't know you were still here as well. Why didn't you offer to escort this little morsel home?"

"He's drunk," Ginny cut in quickly.

Blaise arched a dark brow. "Gin, I've seen Draco drunk, many times, and this is definitely not it."

Draco shrugged. "She'll be safer with you, anyhow."

"Oh," Blaise's eyes lit up. "Is that the way it is, then?"

Ginny groaned and placed a hand on Blaise's arm. "Can we just go?"

"Of course, my dear. Wouldn't want you swallowed up by Malfoy here," he chuckled, his tone suggesting that Ginny would be insane not to want exactly that.

Draco smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, and after a soft-spoken goodnight, he Disapparated from the room.

"What the hell happened tonight?" Blaise demanded.

"Temporary insanity," Ginny said wearily. She wasn't stupid - or drunk - enough to spill the details of their 'If we were married...' game.

Blaise widened his eyes. "He seemed interested."

"Pixie, Blaise," Ginny emphasized, leaning into his side. She suddenly remembered how sleepy alcohol usually made her.

"Pixie what?"

"He's a philal...phi...lander..." she broke off in a huff, "a pig, Blaise. He's a pig."

"All right," Blaise nodded slowly, thinking it wise not to get into an argument at the moment. "Let's just get you to the lodge then, shall we?" Wrapping an arm around her waist, he lifted his wand and Apparated home.

******

That Monday, Ginny burst unceremoniously into Hermione's office at St. Mungo's. "I think I've got feelings for Malfoy," she breathed, then yelped when she spotted Narcissa Malfoy in the chair across from her friend's desk.

Hermione grimaced. "Uh... come on in, Ginny."

"No, no, I don't want to interrupt," Ginny insisted, red-faced, backing slowly out of the room. "I shouldn't have assumed you'd be free."

"Nonsense," Narcissa said, beckoning her further into the room. "We were just discussing a small procedure I'm considering having done next month. I'm sure your news takes precedence." She smiled winningly at her and Draco's words came back to haunt her: She has you lined up as the mother of her grandchildren.

"Well..." She flicked her gaze to Hermione, who had sympathy shining in her amber eyes. With a resigned sigh, Ginny stepped fully into the office and took a seat next to Narcissa.

"Now," the blonde woman said, clasping Ginny's hand in hers, "I assume Draco told you of my little deception?"

Ginny winced and nodded mutely.

"Good." She squeezed her fingers. "I was hoping it would spark something. What exactly happened?"

"Ah..." She had no more desire to tell Draco's mum about their little tête-à-tête than she had to tell Blaise. "Nothing, really. And nothing will come of it. I just... I just had to get it off my chest, I suppose." She gave Hermione a weak smile.

"What do you mean nothing will come of it?"

"Draco's a serial dater," Hermione put in, trying to take some of the pressure off Ginny.

"Well, obviously," Narcissa commented. "My dear, how long has Draco been helping out at the Refuge?"

"Two or so years, I guess," Ginny answered.

"And before that, would you see him often?"

Not exactly sure where the woman was going with this, she furrowed her brow in thought. "He'd show up with Blaise every now and then. A few dinner parties a year for war honourees. And Charlie always brought him home when Malf-Draco was studying dragons in Romania with him... that was right out of school." When she thought about it, in the six years since she'd left Hogwarts, he'd pestered her a lot more than she realized.

"Ginny, he's hung onto you longer than any other girl. I don't think any of them quite measure up when compared to you, although he'd be hard pressed to admit it, even to himself."

They say alcohol lowers your inhibitions... "So he only wants me when he's drunk?" she asked herself, belatedly realizing she'd asked that out loud.

"Something did happen," Hermione rushed out, leaning towards them, eyes alight.

"Erm..." Ginny hedged, face hot, "there might have been a drunken proposition or two." Merlin, she couldn't believe she was talking about this in front of Draco's mum.

"I don't profess to know exactly what goes on in Draco's head, Ginny. He's a great deal more complicated than his father ever was," Narcissa explained gently. "I'd like to think, though, that I've enough sense to see that he harbours a great deal of affection for you. Holds you in high esteem, if you will."

"He wouldn't want to ruin what you have," Hermione pointed out insightfully, eager to help. "You're a touchstone, someone he trusts, who he always comes back to."

Ginny stared at the grinning women, incredulous. "Are you trying to say," she said slowly, "that Draco's in love with me, but he won't let himself be in love with me?"

"Something like that, my dear," Narcissa said with a smile, "but perhaps not so cut and dry."

"In other words, you have no clue what he really thinks," Ginny said wryly. Speculation, she thought, could be a dangerous thing in the wrong hands.

"The important thing is that something's happened," she said excitedly, despite having no clear idea what that something was.

But Ginny just shook her head. It didn't matter. Everything was going to go back to normal. She was going to forget she ever had any soft thoughts about Draco, and she was sure Draco would do the same where she was concerned.

******

Only, it wasn't the same.

Ginny would have been the last person to describe their past relationship as easy camaraderie, but compared to the stilted impoliteness he reserved for her now, she had to admit that was exactly what it had been. They'd been friends, of a sort, and now they were barely civil acquaintances.

His sneer was as malicious as it'd been back in fifth year, and Ginny had to hide her hurt when he blatantly ignored her presence each time he came to check on Rumbles' progress. The dragon was set to move to a rehab camp in barely a week, and Ginny had a horrible feeling that it would be the last she saw of Draco as well.

The problem was that she wasn't exactly sure why he was acting so oddly. As the appointed day loomed closer, she finally pulled Blaise aside and, reluctantly relaying the entire fiasco at the gala ball, asked his humble opinion about it.

"It's bloody obvious, Gin," he said, shaking his head. "You flat-out rejected him. In front of me, no less. Of course he's backing off."

"But Merlin, Blaise, we were just... friends before. Why'd he have to back off everything? He acts like I'm scum now," she said, working herself into a bit of an indignant tizzy, "like I'm not worth the effort unless I agree to let him hump me!"

"That's not really fair," Blaise said softly, placing an arm about her shoulders. "I suspect most of it's just to protect himself. Stupid, I know, but he probably thinks you'll look at him differently now, that you're disgusted by how he behaved. He's afraid he's ruined everything, so he's mucking it all up first, a pre-emptive strike, before you've the chance to rub it in his face."

Ginny blinked at him. "You sounded a little like Hermione there for a moment. Really rather scary."

He chuckled. "Well, there are worse people than her to be compared to. Now, here's my advice," he went on, turning serious again, "- mind you, I'm not great at relationships myself - but I think you have to sort out exactly what you want, and then confront him with it."

"What if I just want things to go back to the way they were?" she asked, worrying her bottom lip.

"Then you tell him that, and he can either accept it or risk losing you forever. But if you don't talk to him soon, he's going to fall back on that infamous Malfoy pride and lock you out for good."

Ginny grinned up at him. "And here I always thought you were a bit of a flake."

"Don't spread it around, eh?" He winked at her.

"I forgot to ask before, how was it with Harry?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "We're playing the wait-and-see game. He seems... happier."

She nodded, knowing it was true. Harry had always been a rather melancholy person, and for some reason it had become even more pronounced after the defeat of Voldemort. Blaise, surprisingly jovial for a Slytherin, hadn't been able to handle the ex-Gryffindor's moods. He'd grown increasingly more miserable in their relationship, unable to help Harry nor understand why the man was so completely unhappy, and felt he'd had no choice but to break things off, letting Harry sort out how he wanted to live his life for himself. The change had been gradual, and no one was sure how or why it came about, but Harry was definitely happier all around.

"It's worth a try, anyhow," he gave her a lopsided grin. "He was always great fun when he let himself go." Which was Blaise-speak for 'I always loved him.'

Merlin, if Blaise could straighten out his love life, then Ginny should certainly be brave enough to face Draco.

******

"I know how you feel," Ginny whispered, peeking through the widely spaced slats of the animal transport at the pacing dragon. They'd had to separate her from Joshua, and Rumbles looked surprisingly sad at his absence, where they had been expecting rage. She seemed more resigned then anything else, and Ginny could sympathize with her loss. She'd yet to confront Draco, and was beginning to think she didn't have the spine for it.

Gryffindor, ha! She was a bloody coward!

"Weasley."

Ginny stiffened at the sound of his voice, then glanced sideways as the blond stepped up next to her, eyes fixed on the caged dragon. "Draco."

He started at her use of his first name and tried to cover it with a frown. "Is she all right?" he asked.

"She misses Joshua," she answered softly.

"Well, he can't go with her to the rehab. With luck she'll be eating scores of little Joshuas in a few months."

Ginny sighed. "I think she knows that." She nodded her head to the restless dragon. "It's why she's sad, but not angry."

"I'm going to be in Romania for a little while," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "If you need any help in the meantime, just ask Ruth."

A little while... then why did it feel like goodbye? "Draco," she said hesitantly, "you'd tell me if you were upset with me about something, right? If I...I did something wrong?" When he remained quiet, she looked over at him, taking in his set and stony gaze. "Malfoy?"

"I should get going," he said briskly, then turned to walk up the trail back to the lodge.

Ginny watched him go, stunned. He hadn't budged an inch! She'd given him the perfect opening for a decent conversation about... whatever the hell they had between them, and he'd walked away!

With a growl and, admittedly, without much thought, she launched herself after him, barrelling into his back and wrapping her arms about his middle, tackling him down to the ground, dry dirt billowing up as they rolled across the path. Ginger and Pudding, who'd been close at Draco's heels, as usual, flapped their wings, making the cloud of dust around them even worse, and protested the commotion with loud and frantic quacks before waddling off to a safe distance.

She'd jarred the shoulder she had injured at the ball when they fell, but she ignored the pain and pushed herself upright, crossing her arms over her chest and perching like a queen on the cradle of Draco's lower back.

"What the...?" Draco groaned, struggling to flip himself over, and Ginny scrambled to straddle his waist, pinning his shoulders to the path with her slim hands, leaning down until their noses nearly touched.

"Listen here, Draco," she hissed. "You're going to tell me what the fuck is going on in that twisted mind of yours, because I can't... seem... to," her words were punctuated by the slamming of her palms into his shoulders, "figure...you...out."

"What do you mean?" he asked, breathing hard, the side of his face and neck streaked with dusty brown dirt, his usually carefully styled hair a mess.

"You're being a prick," she said succinctly.

"Aren't I always?"

She narrowed her eyes. "No. You're always annoying and sarcastic and rude and demanding, but you aren't normally this much of an arsehole. So I want to know why."

He remained defiantly silent, and her gaze travelled from his eyes, which were slightly disdainful, to his mouth, which was curved up in a small smirk. There wasn't anything there to latch onto.

"Your mum's a smart and lovely woman, Draco, but she was obviously wrong about this," she finally murmured sadly. Reaching out, she ran her fingers through his tangled hair, brushing a few locks off his forehead. "I'll see you around, Malfoy," she said, then gingerly got to her feet, the pain in her shoulder a dull throb compared to the constriction in her chest, and walked away.

******

"Mother," Draco roared, slamming open the front door to Malfoy Manor, then stalking over to the parlour where he knew the woman took her afternoon tea. Slamming that door as well, he glowered down at the slim blonde who'd given birth to him, then apparently decided to spend all her free time ruining his life.

"Darling, you know better than to shout inside the house," she said reprovingly, looking up from the slim novel she'd been reading, eyes widening in surprise at his dirty and bedraggled appearance. "What on earth happened to your clothes?"

"Mother," Draco said tightly, "just what the hell did you say to Ginny Weasley?"

Her mouth curved upwards slightly. "Only the truth."

"And that truth would be...?" he prompted testily.

"Well," she closed her book and placed it beside her on the sofa, eyeing him carefully, "she was concerned about your intentions, and I merely assured her that you were quite fond of her, so she needn't worry about it."

Draco groaned and collapsed onto the armchair across from her, burrowing his fingers in his hair. "Why?"

"I couldn't very well lie to the girl. Well, I could," she amended graciously, "but I wouldn't want to. Not about this." Gazing at him thoughtfully, she added, "I was visiting with her friend Hermione when she quite unexpectedly showed up. I don't think I would have known otherwise."

"Known what?"

"That she was enamoured of you, of course. Although her confession didn't have quite that dramatic a flair. I believe she used the word feelings, which is far too prosaic for my tastes," she commented with amused disgust.

"Feelings?" She'd made her opinion of him clear enough that night at the ball, or so he'd thought. "But, if... then... how could I have read her so completely wrong?" he asked, frustrated with himself as much as his mother.

"You were never very good at reading people, Draco, although that's your father's fault as much as anything. Why, look at how you've treated that splendid Potter boy over the years. You look for the worst in everyone."

"I hadn't though," he muttered, ignoring the Potter comment, "not with her. Not before."

"What happened, then?"

He sighed. "I took the offensive with her, I suppose. And when she confronted me about it, I basically brushed her off. After we relocated the dragon, I wasn't planning on going back there for a while."

His mother's brow arched.

"A long while," he admitted.

"I don't know what happened at that ball, Draco, but I do believe it is your move." She waved a hand at him and wrinkled her nose in distaste. "But please change before you Apparate back to the Refuge," she said. "I can't even imagine how you got dirt in your lovely hair. Nobody's seen you like that, have they?"

"She wrestled me to the ground," he said, shaking his head and smiling at his mother for the first time that afternoon.

Narcissa's eyes danced with laughter. "Well, we don't have to worry about her holding her own against you."

"I don't think that was ever a concern," he agreed.

After a quick shower and change – well, quick for him, as he didn't take quite so much time slicking his hair back - he Apparated to the back of the lodge, stumbling directly into the path of Neville. But instead of berating the ex-Gryffindor, he grabbed hold of his upper arms and asked, "Where's Ginny?"

Neville's eyes widened. "St. Mungo's. What do you--"

But in the next instant, Draco was gone, reappearing with a pop outside the hospital's emergency room.

******

"The joint's swollen," Hermione muttered, bent over Ginny's shoulder. "Looks as though it just popped out and back into the socket." She flashed her a smile. "At least we don't have to face that. Not exactly the most pleasant sensation, I've been told."

Ginny groaned. "Just do something for the pain, will you? It feels like it's on fire."

"In a minute." She probed the tender flesh. "Just want to make sure it's cradled properly. No use doing it wrong then having to fix it again." She arched a meaningful brow.

"Malfoy didn't do a half bad job," Ginny said with a wince. "At least he made it feel better."

"Trust a witch to overlook the intricacies of the healing process," Hermione said pointedly. "Try having a cast on your arm for six weeks." She held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers. "Eight-year-olds always think they're invincible."

"Six weeks?"

"Six painful, itchy weeks. Now stop complaining about a few measly minutes."

"What did you do now?" a voice demanded from the doorway.

Ginny jerked, yanking her shirt up to cover her breasts, then gasped as white-hot pain shot down her back.

Hermione steadied her and sent Draco a glare. "Re-injured an injury," she said. "You need to brush up on your Healing Charms, Malfoy."

He sighed audibly, stepping into the room, his eyes locked on the purple expanse of skin covering Ginny's shoulder and upper back. "You should probably teach me a few good ones, Granger," he commented. "Ginny here is a walking disaster."

"It's the line of work," the redhead said defensively, before the meaning of his words sunk in. "You're," she swallowed, "you're sticking around a while, then?"

"A little while," he nodded, face impassive.

"Well," Hermione shifted her gaze between the two of them, "let me just get some salve for the bruising and discoloration." Shooting Draco a warning glare, she strode to the door and closed it behind her with a soft click, leaving them mired in a surprisingly uncomfortable silence.

"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked finally, slowly easing her shirt back into place over her upper body, biting the inside of her cheek at the throbbing pain. Damn Hermione for being so bloody thorough.

"Longbottom said you'd gone to St. Mungos," he said with a shrug. "With your track record I immediately thought the worst."

Slightly confused, she asked, "Didn't he say why? It's nothing really."

"Ah, well," he rubbed the back of his neck and ducked his head, "I didn't give him a chance to."

"Oh," she said, then fell silent again, fiddling with the hem of her button down.

Hermione came bustling back in the room, a small pot of mint-scented salve, steam curling off of it, palmed in her hands. "All right, now. Shirt off," she said sternly. "Malfoy, mind stepping outside for a minute?"

He arched a brow, but slipped from the room without a word.

The Medi-witch gave her a questioning glance as she helped Ginny remove her shirt once again, and the redhead finally sighed and went, "What?"

"What was he doing here?"

"Weren't you the one who didn't want to know what motivated Malfoy to do anything?"

Hermione pursed her lips and lifted her wand tip to the injured joint. "That was before."

"Before what?"

"Hang on. This is going to hurt," she warned.

"It already--fuck!" she cried out as Hermione pressed into her shoulder joint. She quickly performed the incantation to fix the surrounding muscles, bringing instantaneous relief, but leaving her sweaty and breathless.

She released Ginny, then started spreading the warm, minty salve over the entirety of the bruise. "Sorry about that. Shoulder injuries are just about the worst to deal with. So many interconnecting muscles. This should leave you right as rain, though."

Her skin colour was nearly normal again and she tested the rotation of her joint with a satisfied sniff. "Thanks."

"I live to patch you up, Gin," Hermione said dryly. "Ever consider a less hazardous occupation?"

"This is just about the only way I get to see you, Miss Busy Witch," she teased.

"Can I come back in yet?" Draco's voice was muffled through the thin wood.

As Ginny scrambled to button up her shirt, Hermione walked briskly over and pulled open the door, waving him into the room. "You can take her home, actually," Hermione said, a hint of a twinkle in her eyes.

"There's no need," Ginny said quickly. "I'm perfectly fine now."

Hermione turned her back to Draco and winked at the redhead. "Oh, but that salve may make you a bit sleepy. Best to have an escort."

"Hermione..." she started with a warning, then recalled how she'd brushed off Draco at the ball, and swallowed the rest of her words. Instead, she shifted her gaze to him and asked, "If you don't mind?"

"Come on, Weasley," he said in response, taking her arm and helping her off the examination table.

"Here." Hermione placed a small jar in Ginny's hand. "You may be a little sore tomorrow."

Ginny's eyes widened. Damn it if Hermione wasn't suggesting something naughty!

"You shoulder, that is," the Medi-witch added with a deceptively guileless smile.

Draco chuckled, seeming to catch the innuendo also, and red bloomed over Ginny's face, flushing up from her chest. "Thanks," she muttered.

The two walked down to the Apparation point outside the ER in silence. Once there, Draco wrapped his arms around her, and Disapparated to the lodge, this time barely missing a startled Blaise.

"You really should set up some sort of barrier here," he commented dryly.

Blaise stared at them. "What are you two doing...?" He trailed off at a deathly glare from Draco. "Right, I'll just be leaving, then," he said hastily, then turned and strode up the few steps into the mud room.

"Now," Draco turned to her, seeming much more sure of himself than he'd been at the hospital. "You wanted to talk earlier."

Ginny nodded slowly. "And you essentially told me to bugger off."

"I don't suppose you'll forgive me for that?"

"Why?" Ginny demanded, hands on her hips. "Why should I forgive you?"

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted his gaze over to Barkley's paddock, watching Ginger and Pudding frolic in her water trough. Finally, he said, "Because Mother is rarely wrong about anything concerning me, and if you don't forgive me, I can't ask you to dinner."

Stepping up next to him, she placed a hand on his sleeve. "Are you asking me on a date, Draco?"

"No," he slanted her a glance. "If I did, and you hadn't forgiven me for being a bastard, then there's no guarantee you'd say yes. And if you haven't realized it yet, I dislike taking risks."

"Yes," she said absently, gazing at his profile, "I can see that. I, on the other hand, thrive on danger."

Turning his head, he arched a brow at her. "Really? I hadn't noticed," he said dryly.

Ignoring his comment, she slid her hand down his arm to press their palms together, squeezing his lightly before letting it go. "All right, then. I'll spare you the actual risk and ask you a question instead. When would you like to go to dinner?"

"So you forgive me?" he asked, surprise evident in his grey irises, 'that easily?' hanging unsaid on the edge of his words.

She shook her head. "No, but I expect you can make it up to me. Dinner's a start."

"I wasn't drunk that night, you know," he said.

"Blaise helpfully pointed that out, Draco. And I should have had more faith in you, I suppose."

"I never gave you any reason to," he admitted, then took a deep breath and smiled at her. Really smiled. Lips curving up with genuine happiness, softening his features and lighting his eyes.

It hit Ginny right in the gut, spreading a warmth up to her chest and making her heart pound. "So..." she said breathlessly, "dinner? When?"

Noting the flush migrating from her throat and tingeing her cheeks, he moved towards her, curling a hand around a hip and pulling her closer. "Tonight," he leaned down, lips touching the corner of her mouth, "tomorrow night," his other hand slipped to the small of her back, then followed the length of her spine to cup her nape, "next Tuesday," he ran the tip of his tongue along her bottom lip, "whenever."

Ginny sighed into his mouth and whispered, "Okay," before rising on her tiptoes to press her mouth more firmly against his, lifting her hands to burrow in his fine hair, fingers tangling with the strands as she tilted her head and parted her lips.

"Erm... Gin?"

Clenching her fingers on the ends of Draco's hair, she ignored the slightly stuttering voice behind her.

"Ginny," the voice said, a bit more insistent, punctuating her name with a gentle shove on her shoulder. Stumbling, the kiss broke and she glared over her shoulder at Neville, who was twisting his fingers together, his face a picture of wariness mixed with determination.

"What?" she snapped impatiently.

Neville flinched perceptively at her tone, and deliberately refused to look at Draco. "Joshua's gone missing again."

"For crap's sake, am I the only one who can catch the damn thing?" she cried, dropping her head onto Draco's chest. "Has anyone spotted him?"

"Ah," Neville shifted from foot to foot, "Lucy said he was sniffing about the new Graphorn pen."

"Graphorn?" Draco asked, incredulous. "You didn't say you'd gotten a Graphorn."

Neville shot him a glance, but his gaze quickly reverted back to Ginny, not particularly comfortable with the glint he'd spotted in those flinty irises.

Placing a placating hand on Draco's arm, Ginny said, "Well, at least he can't get past those wards." When Neville remained silent, she prodded him with a sharp, "Right?"

He swallowed thickly. "Millicent caught some white spots on its back ridges... some sort of rot, most likely... and she--"

"Wouldn't hear of anything stronger than a Species Barrier," Ginny finished for him, mentioning the same weak ward they'd had around Rumbles' barn. "Great."

"You aren't going anywhere near that Graphorn pen, Ginny," Draco growled.

Ginny smiled sweetly at him. "Would you like to do it then?"

Draco grimaced. "Why can't Longbottom?"

Neville let out a squeak, and Ginny arched a brow at the blond.

"Right," he agreed. "Not Longbottom."

The back door clanged open and Millicent strode up, pushing her sleeves back. "That pig has more lives than a cat." She eyed Draco and Ginny, taking in their closeness, and the fingers Ginny had curled around the man's wrist. "You two are finally giving it a go? Hope you don't end up killing each other," she said, a tinge of her natural maliciousness in her tone.

"I've survived worse," Ginny commented dryly.

Millicent gave Draco a rare smile, although the bared teeth made it a bit dangerous. "Draco hasn't had much practice, though." She threw her arm around her fellow ex-Slytherin and turned him about, urging him onto the dirt path that led down to the magical pens. "Think of the Graphorn as Weasley in a rage," she said, gripping him firmly.

He shot a desperate glance over his shoulder, but Ginny just grinned and waved.

"Um... Gin?"

"Yeah, Nev?"

"You're not really going to let Millie throw him into the Graphorn pen, are you?"

She shot Neville a sideways glance. "Do you really think she'd do it?"

Neville stared at her, big brown eyes wide and disbelieving. "D'you think she wouldn't?"

"Erm..." Ginny worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

"It's Millie," Neville emphasized. They'd both lived with the Zoologist for enough years to have more than just a passing acquaintance with her sadistic streak.

"Oh, Merlin, you're right," the redhead gasped, then took off down the path to save Draco. In a way, she'd just found the bastard. She didn't want Millie to maim him.

For the foreseeable future, that right belonged to her and her alone.