False Hope is Better Than No Hope at All

Chapter Three - Five Years Today

Ginny stormed into Madam Malkin's the next morning, still fuming from the previous afternoon's events. Damn Malfoys! she thought to herself fiercely as she stalked through the store, the plain sky-blue sleeves of her robes brushing against the magically suspended display robes which fluttered as she steamed forward. Them and their damn death eater parties - grinding the whole wizarding parties to a stop for them! For godssakes, I have a story to write, not to mention that now I have to go out and buy brand-new robes especially for this thing.

Ginny let her gaze come to rest on an extensive rack of Hogwarts robes and for a moment the wild idea of arriving at the party that evening in her shabby old school robes flickered through her mind. Ha. She would never show up in anything less than the best. She hadn't been that shabby, impoverished little Weasley for five years now and she wasn't about to revert back to that state, especially since it had taken them so long to accept the fact that she had money. It wasn't the Malfoy fortune, but with her job, the inheritance from her parents and brothers, and the money she had made by selling the Burrow, she could make ends meet and still have quite a bit to spare.

Ginny turned her attention back to the extensive racks of robes, absently shifting through them. At the back of the shop, Madam Malkin was gushing over the only other customer in the shop, a tall, curly-haired brunette twirling in violet robes and frowning at her reflection. "It's stunning!" she was saying.

Ginny headed to the back corner of the shop, where the most expensive robes were kept out of the reach of small children with grubby hands. Chinese silk, Egyptian cotton...every fabric you could imagine in every shade possible. Ginny frowned to herself as she let her hand run over the rack. What color should she wear? Red, pink and orange were definitely out. She could never stand those colors. Not to mention that they clashed horribly with her vibrant hair.

"I'd suggest you stick with cool colors," a voice behind her said. Ginny turned and saw the tall brunette standing behind her, still wearing the purple robes. She smiled at her. "Hi. I'm Eleanor Branstone. You're Virginia Weasley, aren't you? I was two years behind you at Hogwarts."

"Yes," said Ginny. Now that she mentioned it, she could connect Eleanor's face with the image of the scared-looking Hufflepuff first year in her mind. "Are you headed off to the Redemption Ball at the Malfoy's tonight as well?"

"No," Eleanor answered. "I'm a bit too working-class for the Malfoys. It doesn't matter anyway; I don't support the New Ministry."

"Ah, a fellow Indifferent."

She gave her a tiny smile. "Well, I won't keep you," she said. "I just came by to say hello and to see how you were holding up."

"I'm all right, thanks," said Ginny, confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Eleanor shrugged and turned her eyes towards the rack behind Ginny. Her eyes swept over the robes, and she leaned forward and plucked out a pair of dark green robes. "This would look excellent on you," she said, handing the hanger to Ginny. "It was nice talking to you," she said, and with that she exited the shop.

Strange, thought Ginny, shrugging to herself, but she didn't think too much of it. Since the Last Battle she had become used to being accosted by strangers and long-forgotten fellow Hogwarts students. She looked down at the hunter green robes she held in her arms and ran her hands over the fabric. It was soft and slightly coarse. Thai Silk, she thought, peeking at the label to verify her thoughts. Walking over to the large gilded mirror at the back of the store, she slipped of her old blue robes and pulled the dark green ones over her shoulders.

"You look beautiful dear," the mirror told her. Ginny smiled and thanked it as she ran her arms over the sleeves, smiling faintly at her reflection. The robes were embroidered with a gleaming gold thread in an intricate Asian design, which she felt made her feel slightly exotic. Madam Malkin, hearing the mirror talking, came over to join Ginny at the back of the shop.

"Virginia," she breathed, circling Ginny once before holding her at an arm's length to assess her appearance, "you do look stunning. I must wrap these up for you immediately- it would be a crime for you to wear something else to the Ball tonight."

Ginny didn't need an iota of persuasion. "I'll take them," she said, quickly slipping out of the robes and gently handing them to Madam Malkin. She shook her head to herself as she followed her to the front of the store, swinging her old robes back around herself. Eleanor Branstone might have been a bit strange, but she had impeccable taste.

***

Eleanor pushed her way out of Madam Malkin's shop, the enchanted door ringing as she stepped out into the busy streets of Diagon Alley. She effortlessly melted into the crowd and headed off towards the Leaky Cauldron. As she walked she pulled off her robes to reveal the simple black-and-white muggle dress she wore underneath. With a wave of her wand, she magically reduced their size and shoved them into the handbag she was carrying. This was always the most dangerous part of her journey; she had to make it from Diagon Alley to muggle London without anyone noticing her.

She reached the door of the Leaky Cauldron, took a deep breath, and swung it open. Stepping into the pub always made her nervous; being half-muggle, Tom would certainly not know her mother, but he would probably know her father. She herself had only come into the Leaky Cauldron a handful of times with her father when she was very young, so he might not connect the tall young woman he saw now with Theodore Branstone's daughter, but there was always the possibility. She kept her head down as she stepped into the tavern.

Eleanor kept her eyes on the ground until she was sure Tom was busy with some customers at the end of the bar. At this hour of the morning, the Leaky Cauldron was nearly empty, containing only a couple old wizards reading the Prophet, two middle-aged witches in shabby-looking hats, and a younger man seated in the corner, staring at a half-empty glass he was spinning idly on the table. He looked up at her and Eleanor jumped slightly at the sight of those familiar eyes staring right back into hers. Giving herself a little shake, she shoved her wand into her handbag, she tossed her curls over her shoulder and practically ran out the front door into muggle London.

Out on the pavement, Eleanor blended in easily with the crowd. Sauntering easily down the street and pausing occasionally to stare into store windows, she could pass for any working woman on her lunch break. No one gave her a second glance.

She walked several blocks further, and the air became hotter. Eleanor could never stand the heat, and she was itching to duck into a corner, pull out her wand and perform a cooling charm. Common sense, however, as well as experience told her that performing magic in muggle London was akin to walking up to Lucius Malfoy unarmed and singing praises to Dumbledore while wearing a "I Love Harry Potter!" t-shirt. Keep walking, she told herself. Almost there. She let out a sigh of relief as she came to a window displaying expensive-looking leather armchairs, she paused momentarily and then stepped inside.

It was apparently a busy morning for chair buying. The shop's four employees were scuttling from customer to customer so fast, they were nearly gliding on the perfectly polished wooden floor, expertly dodging what must have been millions of pounds worth of leather chairs scattered about the room in various settings. One employee, a thin bald man carrying a folder full of paper, nearly collided with Eleanor as she took a few steps forward. "Good morning, ma'am," he said curtly. Eleanor didn't miss the way his eyes flicked over her inexpensive dress before he ran off again. The other employees gave her similar looks of disinterest as she wandered through the store. Well, excuse me if I can't conjure Versace! she wanted to snap at them as she smoothed down the black-and-white fabric of her dress, transfigured from her old school robes. Oh well. It was better if they didn't pay much attention to her, anyway.

Eleanor headed to the back of the store, where a mock-office had been set up, complete with leather-bound books and featuring a seven-thousand pound leather armchair. Ignoring the chair, she walked over to one of the bookcases behind it. Quickly peeking behind her shoulder to make sure no one was watching her, she darted behind it.

The bookcase was fair distance away from the wall, creating a short, alley-type area behind the display. She had plenty of room to move and was effectively hidden from the rest of the people in the store. Eleanor took a couple steps forward and knelt down, examining a set mousetrap which had been placed by the corner of the wall. Who would have though a posh place like this would have had mice? she thought to herself with a grin as she reached a hand towards the trap.

Suddenly, she heard a noise behind her. It was only a faint noise, but her ear picked it up because it was...familiar. Without standing up, Eleanor whirled her head around and looked over her shoulder. Behind her, where there had before been only empty space, now stood a tall figure clad entirely in black.

It was the young man whose eye she had caught at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Well, well," he said with a small grin on his face, "fancy finding you behind a bookshelf in a muggle furniture store, Ms. Branstone."

Eleanor kept her face expressionless. She hadn't intended to be caught back here, but right now she was more frightened of being found by the muggles in the shop. "What's going on behind there, Jack?" she heard one employee faintly call to another. Footsteps began in the distance and began to get closer. Damn! They must have heard the guy talking to her.

He had also heard the muggles approaching. "Now what are you going to do, Eleanor?" he asked tauntingly through his smile, though he lowered his voice to a whisper.

Eleanor did the only thing she could. She shot her arm out and grabbed his hand, then yanked it over her head. She heard him sputter as he lost his balance and toppled over on the floor. The bookcase rocked forwards slightly, and the muggles's shouts grew louder as they heard the thump of his body hitting the floor. Eleanor pressed his hand and hers to the mousetrap simultaneously, and instantly felt the familiar jerk in her stomach. She relaxed slightly as the portkey sucked her forward. The muggles wouldn't find anything behind the bookcase. She would deal with this oaf when they got to The Underground.

***

It was around noon at Malfoy Manor. House elves were running frantically all through the house, trying to prepare the menu for the ball that evening. Hoards of charmers were pouring through the front door every few minutes, conjuring the decorations for the party. Lucius Malfoy was tearing his hair out in the study, bellowing about The Resistance and incompetent (awwwww - great line!) New Ministry staff. And Draco Malfoy was happily taking a nap in one of the sitting rooms, sprawled out across a window seat.

After searching for nearly an hour, his mother had finally found him here, relaxing while everyone else worked themselves into a frenzy over the preparations needed for the party that night. She almost laughed when she saw he was smiling as he slept.

Probably dreaming of how smart he is, she thought. Well, if he thinks he can get out of having to prepare for the Ball simply by finding a deserted corner of the house to fall asleep in, he has another thing coming.

Narcissa drew her wand from the pockets of her pale blue robes and placed the tip on Draco's forehead. "Enner -" she began, but drew her wand away before she could complete the spell. A small smile crept across her face. So he wanted to shirk his duties, hmm? Well, she wouldn't be waking him nicely. Maybe that would finally teach him a lesson.

Narcissa took several steps back. Draco had fallen asleep in a sitting room in one of the more obscure parts of the house, sprawled out in a window seat with his eyes twitching slightly in bright sunlight. With a flick of her wand, Narcissa expertly summoned a chair from the other side of the room and sat down in it. She waited momentarily to see if her son would wake up.

He didn't.

Smiling, Narcissa raised her wand again, concentrating on the window seat's green velvet cushions. "Accio!" she cried. The cushions flew into her arms as Draco toppled to the floor, landing facedown on the hard stone floor.

Narcissa laughed.

With a groan, Draco pushed himself slightly off the floor and shook his head. He turned to see his mother sitting across from him, laughing softly. He dropped his head back on the floor.

"Why are you trying to kill your only son?" he groaned into the floor.

Narcissa just smiled. "Get off the floor. You'll get a cold."

"Oh, so you don't want me to catch a cold, but it's okay if I crack my head open on the floor and die, is it?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You know that wouldn't have happened." She eyed the green cushions and Draco pulled himself into a sitting position, though still making no move to get off the floor. "Wrong shade," she murmured.

"Wrong what?" Draco repeated, gingerly checking his head for bumps.

"Wrong shade. These cushions are the wrong shade of green," Narcissa answered patiently. Suddenly, she remembered why she had come looking for Draco in the first place.

"Draco, the charmers I hired to do the decorations for the ball tonight have already arrived. They're in the ballroom right now, but they can't get the exact shade of green I want." She sighed in annoyance. "I thought maybe if I could show them an example of the color I wanted they'd be able to get it, but it would appear that particular shade exists only in my head. These damn balls drive me mad. Speaking of which, would you be so kind as to abandon your little catnap here to help your poor mother with tonight's preparations? Even your father is doing his bit to prepare."

Finally convinced that no lasting damage had been done to himself, Draco stood up. "Yes, yes, I know. I was just catching up on some lost sleep. I'll be down in a minute."

"Perfect." Narcissa banished the cushions back to their proper spot and tucked her wand away. "I'll meet you in the ballroom in a little while." The chair slid back to its place alongside the coffee table and Narcissa started walking towards the door.

"Okay," called Draco after her. "I'll be in the ballroom in a minute."

As soon as the door closed he flopped back down onto the window seat's cushions and closed his eyes. He smiled to himself as all thoughts of green dress robes pushed themselves out of his head and her remembered the conversation he had with his father earlier that morning.

"These damned Indifferents make me nervous," Lucius had said, tossing the Daily Prophet Morning Issue he had been reading to the side. "The war's not over. It's merely on hiatus. I know it, Harry Potter knows it, and so do these bloody Indifferents, no matter how dumb they play. And when it does pick up again, they're not going to sit around idly with their hands under their arses like they've been doing for the past five years. They're going to pick sides. And they sure as hell better pick the New Ministry."

Draco remained quiet, not sure if his father was talking to him directly or just ranting in general.

"Draco!" his father snapped back after a minute. "You're my heir, not some brain-dead house elf; think of something! I didn't haul you back here from Bulgaria so you could sit around and stare at the walls like a goldfish in a bowl."

Really,Draco had to bite back his tongue from saying.And all this time I thought I was just here as a replacement for that secretary you fired last month. "What about Virgina Weasley?" was what he actually said. At this his father had looked remotely interested, so he continued. "I mean, she's one of the most influential Indiffrents around, even if she doesn't actually profess to be one. I'm sure that if we could get her to support the New Ministry, a lot of the Indifferents would, uh, see the error in their ways and turn to our side."

Draco chuckled. For a moment, it had looked as if his father were deciding how much time he would give him to pack before sending him barreling back to Bulgaria, but then he had suddenly laughed. "You know, Draco," he had said as he rose from the table, slapping him on the back, "You're not half bad."

Then he had put Draco solely in charge of "enticing Virginia over to our side."

His first solo mission. What fun.

If only it were a something a little more challenging.

***

Eleanor gasped as the swirling stopped and she finally felt her feet hit solid ground. She opened her eyes, which she had automatically squeezed shut for the portkey journey, to see the tall form of the man she had dragged along with her lying on the tiled kitchen floor.

"Get up, you bastard," she said, gently prodding his side with her foot. He coughed and rolled over onto his back, blinking as he stared up at her.

"Some warning would have been nice, you know," he said, making no attempt to get off the floor. "You know I have to mentally prepare myself before portkey travelling."

"Some warning would have been nice, you know," she mimicked him, "before you snuck up behind me like that and nearly blew our whole operation! What in god's name were you thinking, Stephen? You were supposed to leave the Leaky Cauldron twenty minutes after I did, not five!" She reluctantly took the hand he held up to her and helped him off the floor, resisting the urge to drop him.

"Give me a break, Ms. Branstone," he said in the same taunting tone he had used in the furniture store, mocking her recent promotion within The Resistance, which she had to admit had gone to her head slightly. "Do you know how long I'd been sitting by that bar, just waiting, waiting, waiting for something to happened? Can you blame me for wanting to get out of there a bit early?"

Eleanor snorted. "Sitting and waiting, my ass. Don't forget about all the drinking and flirting you were able to do in the meantime. Seriously, you should be thanking me for that assignment..."

"I still don't know how you got promoted over me, as I'm three years older than you and a former Ravelclaw to boot."

"...and anyway, waiting another fifteen minutes wouldn't have killed you."

They stood in the tiny kitchen they had been transported to, just glaring at each other. Eleanor tried to ignore how cute Stephen looked with his spiky brown hair mussed and his black muggle jeans an t-shirt crumpled. Stephen tried to concentrate on something other than how pretty Eleanor looked with her cheeks all flushed from anger. All around them on the walls, the smiling faces of young children looked on, phantom grandchildren of the phantom elderly couple who owned the tiny country cottage they were now standing in.

Stephen finally cleared his throat and broke the silence. "So, are we going to the meeting or what?"

Eleanor glared back at him, annoyed at him for being so distracting and annoyed at herself for allowing herself to be distracted. Wordlessly, she stalked out of the kitchen and passed through the house to the living room, the only room of the house whose walls were not covered in pictures or random muggle decorations. Stephen caught up to her side, and they simultaneously drew their wands and traced an intricate pattern over the white plaster surface, muttering rapidly under their breaths. They stepped back as the wall began to shimmer, and with a loud pop, a glistening rectangular opening appeared in the wall.

"After you," said Stephen, gesturing towards the door. Eleanor glared at him before stepping through, and Stephen rolled his eyes as he followed.

The thing Stephen liked best about travelling to the underground headquarters of The Resistance was that there was no sign you had actually traveled anywhere. The spinning from Floo Powder, the jerks from the portkey, the momentary darkness with Apparation; none of those sensations were present when you stepped through the enchanted door. Hermione Granger's excellent charming skills ensured that it acted just as a real door, only the room you stepped into was thousands of miles away from the one you just left.

The headquarters of The Resistance was rather boring as far as headquarters went. Despite its awe-inspiring name, it was really nothing more than a large room with stone floors and walls. Countless doors were set in the walls, leading off to bedrooms, bathrooms and kitchens so the more recognizable members of The Resistance could safely live at the underground. The headquarters itself was empty of all furniture except for a large, circular wooden table and chairs which was perfect for sitting around hurling screams and insults across the room, which the Resistance members often found themselves doing when discussing tactics and various operations against the New Ministry. Sneakoscopes and various other dark detectors were strewn about the room, and in the middle of the table sat a huge pile of parchment and maps, currently being tossed from side to side.

"For godssakes, Harry," Hermione snapped testily to herself as she shifted through the mountain of paper with her wand, gently flicking her wand from side to side. "Would it kill you to keep this place slightly more organized?" She squinted her brown eyes as she searched for something in the huge pile.

Eleanor cleared her throat and Hermione looked up and smiled at them. "Hi Eleanor, Stephen," she said. "Wow, you're back a bit earlier than we expected you. That's okay, everyone else is already here so we'll just start the meeting now." With a final swish of her wand, the papers on the table arranged themselves into something remotely resembling a neat pile.

Eleanor and Stephen settled themselves into their usual chairs as Hermione turned and rapped on one of the many doors branching off from the room's cold walls. "Harry?" she called through the heavy wooden door. "I think he's back here playing exploding snap or something equally stupid," Hermione said to them as she pulled open the door and peered into the room. "Harry? Neville? Honestly, where are all of you?"

Eleanor jumped as a loud explosion suddenly came from the room, followed by an equally loud burst of laughter. Hermione gave a cry and slammed the door shut. "I can't believe them!" she cried. She turned back to the table and Eleanor saw that her face and the front of her previously clean grey robes were now (formerly written 'not,' which is rather confuzzling) smeared with soot. She tried not to laugh as Hermione snatched her wand off the table and muttered a cleaning spell.

"Those animals," said Stephen in a tone of mock-outrage.

The door burst open a moment later and the other Resistance members staggered out, rocking with laughter and just as grimy as Hermione had been two seconds before. Harry Potter, Ernie McMillian, Sarah Fawcett, and a dozen other former Hogwarts students were rocking with laughter as they made their way to their seats with a great deal of effort. Last out of the room were Ron, Fred, and George Weasley, by far the dirtiest of the group. Hermione shot them an icy stare, but was unable to completely kill off the giggles.

"Brilliant!" Neville Longbottem managed to croak out, before dissolving into another fit of laughter. Across the table from him, Parvati Patil seemed to be in the same predicament.

"I never knew you could make parchment do that!" she said, wiping away tears. "And to think, all those years at Hogwarts I could have disposed of my old letters in such a more interesting way..."

"Did you see the look on his face just before he exploded?" Harry contributed, his shoulders shaking violently.

"Why? What happened?" asked Eleanor, deathly curious of what she and Stephen had missed; so much so she was prepared to incur the wrath of Hermione Granger to find out what it was.

"Fred, George and Angelina dug up an old love letter Lee had sent me, back in our second year," Alicia explained through her chuckles. "Fred and George bewitched it so this hologram-like thing of Lee came up from the paper and started to read the letter out loud. Then -"

"When he just starts to get to the mushy part," Angelina supplied.

"The whole thing explodes! Lee, parchment, everything! It was the funniest thing I've seen in years."

Hermione glared at them all as the laughter started up again. "You are all lucky Lee is away on assignment in France now," she scolded them. "I don't think he'd enjoy being the brunt of your stupid, childish tricks." She shot Fred and George a look.

"Aw, Hermione, our tricks aren't stupid or childish at all," George said, starting up the famous Weasley twin defense again.

"After all, dear Hermione, the devil's greatest trick was convincing the world he didn't exist," Fred butted in.

"And since we've managed to do the same, that makes us just as good, if not better pranksters than Lucifer himself."

"Better, I think," Fred replied. "He only managed to convince the world he didn't exist. We've done ourselves, Ron, and Charlie."

"Yes," said Hermione slowly. "You were lucky you managed to fake the deaths of that many people in the first place."

The laughter died then. Eleanor gulped. During the Last Battle, the Weasley family had been specifically targeted by the Death Eaters. Knowing this ahead of time, Fred and George had been able to set up two separate areas on the Hogwarts ground where they had rigged harmless explosions to go off. The four brothers made it to their pre-plotted destination on time and were able to escape underground halfway through the fighting. Percy, Bill, and Mr Weasley, however, had not been so lucky.

Harry stood up from his place a couple of seats away from Eleanor after a moment of silence had gone by. "We've had our fun for the day," he said, trying to move on. "Let's just start this meeting, shall we?" The room nodded in agreement, and Hermione quietly took her seat between Harry and Ron.

"Not everyone is here," said Harry, scanning the empty seats scattered around the table, "but they can catch up when they've returned from their assignments. Cornfoot," he said, and the whole room turned to look at Stephen. "How was your stakeout at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Very boring, thank you."

"Were you able to discern a basic outline of the Malfoy's guest list for tonight based on everything you heard?"

Stephen scrunched up his brow, a sign that he was concentrating. Eleanor wanted to laugh. He looked like a constipated mouse.

"The Lestranges are...Mr Lestrange was there for hours while he waited for the missus to finish her shopping." Ernie and Laura Madley snickered. "Probably the Parkinsons as well, Pansy's mother kisses up so much to the Malfoys I'd be surprised if they weren't coming. As well as the Zabini's, that fiancé of Blaise's, whatizname, Millicent Bulstrode, Crabbe and Goyle..."

"Any others beside the usual crowd?" snapped Angelina, looking as annoyed as Eleanor felt at having to listen to Stephen read out the same names as always. Hermione, however, was scribbling away frantically.

"Well, Padma is going this year," Stephen said, and everyone turned to give Parvati sympathetic looks.

She snorted and tossed her long plait, ignoring their stares. "Let's blow the bitch up," she snapped.

Excited looks appeared on Ron and Justin's faces.

Hermione, however, gasped in shock. "Parvati!" she scolded, waiting until she had finished writing 'Padma Patil' on her parchment before looking up. "I can't believe you'd even joke about something like that! She's your sister! Your twin, even!"

Parvati looked like she couldn't care less. "A true twin wouldn't sell the other out to Lucius Malfoy and his cursed 'New Ministry.'"

"I'm not so sure about that, Parvati," said Fred. "If Lucius had been in charge of things back in our sixth year, I would have been on his doorstep in a heartbeat, one hand holding George and the other outstreched, awaiting my reward." He glanced at his twin, who was seated next to him. "You would have understood, wouldn't you, brother?"

"If you had used the money for the joke shop, I would have saved you the trouble and mailed me there myself."

Parvati fumed.

"Any other unusual names on the guest list, Stephen?" Ron asked, not bothering to pay any attention to the twins.

"Umm...the minister of Bulgaria's two daughters and a friend are going. A really pretty bunch of girls, if a bit young. They invited me along." Stephen gave the other guys a smug smile.

"Really? What did you say?" asked Neville, curious.

"I pretended I was mute," said Stephen regretfully.

"Wow," said Larry Summers sarcastically. "Why aren't we all taking spy lessons from this guy in our spare time?"

"Because we're The Resistance. We don't have any spare time," Hermione said without missing a beat. She made a final scratch with her quill. "Anyone else?"

"Um, other than Ginny, I don't think so."

"Woah! Hold on one bloody minute!" Ron yelled, snapping to attention. "Ginny is going? Since when?!"

"Don't you listen to anything, Ron?" Hermione asked in exasperation. "For godssakes, you were with me while I was listening in on the Floo network last night. You heard Malfoy invite her!"

"He was too busy staring at your chest, Hermione."

She shot a dark look to the other end of the table, but no one admitted to saying anything. Ron turned red.

"Speaking of Ginny, did you complete your assignment for today, Eleanor?" said Harry, turning his attention to her.

"Yes. She got the robes," Eleanor said simply.

There was a moment of silence. Ron opened his mouth as if to say, 'what robes?', but glanced at Hermione and thought better of it.

Harry gave a sigh and pushed his glasses up on his nose before sliding back down into his chair. "Excellent," he said. "So all that's left to do now it...wait."

***

Ginny popped into the Malfoy Manor Apparation Point at precisely five that evening, and was nearly blinded as about forty flashbulbs went off in her face. "Ms Weasley! Ms. Weasley!" reporters screamed as they surged forward to get a glimpse of the latest arrival the year's most prestigious event.

Ginny scowled as she tried to push her way through the crowd to get to the stone steps which would lead her up to the doors of the Manor. Blow the Malfoys for making their apparation point so far away from their actual house! she though violently. Who would want to break into their creepy old manor, anyway?

"Ms. Weasley, why would a professed Indifferent be attending the biggest Redemption party of the year?"

"Ms. Weasley, can we take your attendance here tonight to mean that you will now be supporting the New Ministry?"

"Ms. Weasley, can will you confirm or deny rumors that you and Harry Potter are actually conducting a secret love affair by owl post?"

Ginny snorted. "I'm just here tonight to conduct and interview, people," she said. She had taken Draco's advice, however sarcastically he had offered it, and brought along her quill and notebook to the ball.

"Look!" someone cried from a group huddled around the gates of Malfoy Manor, eager to catch a glimpse of some of society's most famous witches and wizards. "Victoria Lestrange!"

Ginny sighed with relief as the crowd of reporters and photographers retreated to harass Victoria, the daughter of the formerly incarcerated couple who had made a name for herself not through her latest line of dress robes, but rather through her many relationships with high-profile wizards. "Victoria, when will your divorce with Ivan Poliakoff be finalized?" Ginny heard someone shout as she made her way up to the ornate front doors of the manor, tall enough to accommodate a Himalayan Mountain Troll.

"Name?" a coarse voice grunted as Ginny walked up to the doors, startling her. She gasped and took a small jump back, looking over her shoulder for the source of the voice.

"Name?" it grunted again, impatiently.

It seemed to becoming from somewhere around her, but no one else was there...Victoria and her latest squeeze hadn't been able to escape from the hoard of reporters. Ginny peered at the stone carvings around the door carefully as she entered.

"Virginia Weasley," she stated cautiously. This time, she caught the movement of a small gargoyle perched on the doorframe as it grunted again. Apparently satisfied with her answer, it gave its stone wings a flick and the doors magically pulled themselves open. Ginny took a deep breath and stepped into the foyer of Malfoy Manor, illuminated by hundreds of floating candles which gave off a greenish light, and already filled to the brim with hundreds of guests chatting in small groups. The doors eased shut behind her as she stepped inside, already drafting excuses to leave early.

***

The Redemption Ball had officially begun precisely twenty-four minutes ago, and while the guests stood in the ballroom, mingling and sipping their elderflower wine, Draco was standing in the kitchens wearing his shabby old pajamas.

"I'm not asking for food," he ground out through his clenched teeth as the twelfth house elf he had tried talking to that night tried to shove a ham sandwich into his face. "I'm asking for my robes. Where. Are. My. Robes?"

The creature blinked back at him, not understanding. All around them the extensive Malfoy staff of kitchen house-elves were scurrying about, trying not to band into Draco as they carried pots of steaming, delicious-smelling foods back and forth across the white tiles. "Why, your robes is being in your closet, Master Malfoy," it squeaked. "We is not keeping your robes in the kitchens."

Draco had to restrain himself from screaming. He was nearly a half-hour late for the ball. Wherever his parents were, they were certainly livid. "That's what I've been trying to tell you and every other elf I've spoken with in the last hour," he said. "They aren't in my room. They aren't anywhere in this house, or at least anywhere I've looked. Have you moved them somewhere?"

Another blank stare. "Nod is not cleaning your room today, sir," he said. "Nod is being in the kitchens cooking all day. But," he quickly added, seeing Draco's face get a shade closer to purple, "Nod is knowing who has cleaned Master Malfoy's room today. Nod will be getting him for sir."

"Yes," snapped Draco. "Go! Get him!"

The elf ran off, glad to be rid of Draco, and within seconds another nearly-identical elf had taken his place. "You is wanting to talk to Chez, Master Malfoy?" he asked.

"Did you clean my room this afternoon, Chez?" Draco asked.

"Yes, sir," he responded. "Chez is cleaning in the days, and is cooking in the nights."

"What did you do with my robes?"

"Master Draco was in the shower," Chez started. "Mistress Malfoy comes and is telling Chez that Master Malfoy is having all new robes made, and Master Malfoy is not needing any of his old ones any longer. Mistress Malfoy is saying that Chez is having to get rid of all of Master Malfoy's old robes. So Chez is getting rid of them."

Draco's jaw nearly hit the ground. "So my robes are..."

"They is being burnt, Master Malfoy." A frightened look suddenly crept over the elf's face. "Is Chez doing wrong, sir?"

Draco clapped a hand to his forehead in disbelief, not even hearing Chez's question. His robes - all burnt? What the hell did his mother say to make the house elf think that all of Draco's clothes had to be destroyed immediately?

Thoughts were forming in Draco's head at lightning speed before colliding with each other and dying at the same pace, and he didn't even notice when a tall figure in blue stormed into the kitchens. The attentive house elves, however, promptly stopped what they were doing and obediently chanted, "Good evening, Master Malfoy," before going back to his chores. Thinking they were talking to him, Draco snapped his head up...and found himself looking into the grey eyes of his father, which were smoldering with anger.

"The ball started nearly forty minutes ago, Draco," he hissed at him, grabbing his arm and leading him towards the door. "Why are you in the kitchens, not dressed and chatting with the servants instead of working on the mission I've assigned you?" The portrait hole opened as they approached and they stumbled out of the kitchens, Lucius keeping his iron grip on Draco's arm.

"Father," Draco tried to explain patiently, the faint strains of the party wafting through the hallway, "you don't understand. I can't go to the ball, all my robes are gone. For some reason the damn elves took it upon themselves to burn every single bit of clothing I own-"

"I'm beginning to regret ever putting you in charge of one of what I consider one of my most important missions," Lucius interrupted. "If you aren't even resourceful enough to find yourself an outfit, how are you going to manage to convince Virginia Weasley to turn to the New Ministry?"

Draco finally wrenched his arm away from Lucius, and fixed him with an equally cold glare. For a moment, neither of them said anything. "I can do it," Draco finally said. "I'll convince her, any way I have to. Remember, father, I was the one who suggested bringing her to our side anyway." Lucius raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"I'll be in the ballroom in five minutes," Draco said and stalked off, leaving Lucius standing in the hallway. He had suddenly remembered that in addition to having an extensive collections of weapons, books, and other sorts of wizarding memorabilia from throughout history, there was also a gallery on the fourth floor of the manor featuring authentic examples of wizarding dress from the last thousand years. Sure, they were all hopelessly outdated and wearing one would mean decreasing it's market value by seventy-five percent, but it was either that to show up at the ball and try to seduce Ginny over to the New Ministy's side while stark naked.

He reached the fourth floor gallery relatively quickly and strode past the first few rows of robes without even glancing around. He had already accepted that he was being forced to attend one of the biggest parties of the year in old-fashioned robes, but no way was he going to show up in robes from the pre-Floo network era. After swiftly browsing through the more recent robes, he finally settled on a horrifically cut pair from the 40s which were made of a coarse, scratchy fabric. They were a nice shade of blue-grey, however, which he thought matched his eyes quite nicely. Also, it was the only pair in the entire gallery without an inch of lace on it.

A very big plus indeed. He didn't want to show up looking like Weasley at the fourth-year Yule Ball.

He ran out of the gallery, throwing the robes over his pajamas and making sure they were completely hidden as he ran. He lifted his arm and stared at the angular cut of the sleeves in disbelief. He looked as if he had just sprouted wings and was preparing to take off. Draco made a mental note to keep his arms firmly at his side for the entire night. It wouldn't stop people from talking about the pleats on his robes, but every little bit helped.

He finally reached the main doors to the ballroom a full hour after the party had actually started. "Mr. Draco Malfoy!" the doors announced as he pushed them open and stepped onto the marble floor, taking a deep breath.

The ballroom was filled to the brim. Draco had never seen so many people at one of his parent's parties in his entire life. There were some giggles and murmurs as he walked calmly towards the center of the room, but the guests were not so impolite (or stupid) to stop talking and gape outright. Draco scanned the room for Virginia Weasley, but didn't see her. He did, however, catch the look of utter horror his mother was throwing his way.

"Draco!" A squeal suddenly sounded from behind him. He turned to see three young witches dressed in what were obviously their best robes lunging for him, lugging a burly photographer along. He groaned internally as he recognized them from one of those stupid teen witch magazines and glued his interview smile on his face.

"Can we steal a moment of your time, Draco?" the short blond on asked.

"Steal?" He pretended to act horrified. "Ladies, I would be honored to hand it to you on a silver platter!"

They started giggling, and the photographer had to clear his throat and eye them meaningfully before they finally shut up. Then they started with their barrage of questions, which Draco tried his best to answer as they were thrown at him.

"I noticed you arrived late, Draco. Off snogging some lucky young witch, were you? Who was it?"

"I just -love the retro look, Draco. You're such a trendsetter! Who's this one by?"

"What do you have to say about that young Bulgarian witch who claims she gave birth to your baby two months ago?"

It was a good hour later before Draco was finally able to detach himself from their claws. He pushed his way through the crowd and towards the punch bowl, where he drowned three glasses of the stuff consecutively.

"For godssakes, Draco, leave some for the other guests," a voice at his side said. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Virginia Weasley, looking stunning in a gorgeous pair of robes with her hair softly swept back, stray curls falling around her face. He stared, dumfounded, as she gently pushed him out of the way and grabbed a glass of punch for herself.

He quickly scrambled in his mind for something to say. He hadn't expected her to show up looking so beautiful, and for a moment the sight of her had knocked all sensible thoughts from his brain. He realized that he had subconsciously expected her to show up looking as she had when she attended the Yule Ball with Longbottom, as stupid as it seemed.

And now she was taking her glass and walking away... "Wait! Virginia!" he called. She turned and arched an eyebrow.

"Yes? What is it?"

He suddenly realized he had nothing to say. "Um, what are you doing here?"

An odd expression crossed her face, as if she were decided whether to laugh or to ignore him completely. "Your father invited me here. You invited me here. Remember, yesterday?"

"Of course I remember!" he snapped. The he regained him composure. "What I meant was, I didn't actually expect you to turn up."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, you made it pretty clear that your father wanted me to attend. And I did bring my notebook, by the way." She took a sip of her drink and looked across the room to where Lucius and Narcissa were laughing with Edmund and Miranda Lestrange. "Not that I'll actually get a chance to talk to your father tonight." She turned her eyes back to Draco and suddenly smirked.

"What?" he asked angrily as he saw the amusement in her eyes, his pride getting the better of him. "Are you laughing at my robes? I'll have you know that, yes, they may be a bit out of style, but these are an authentic piece of history - Grindewald himself was said to have owned these robes."

"I wasn't looking at your robes, Draco," she answered scathingly. "I don't care how out of style they are or who their previous evil owner was. It's your choice of footwear I find so amusing." She giggled slightly as raised the glass to her lips again.

Horrified, Draco looked down at himself and saw that although the folds of the robes hid the pajamas he wore underneath, his bedroom slippers were clearly visible from under them. "Damn!" he muttered as he pulled out his wand and quickly transfigured his shabby brown slippers into a pair for shiny black dress shoes.

"Don't worry," said Ginny, falsely reassuring. "Your fan club probably thought nothing of it. At any rate, I doubt they were looking at your feet." She turned her back on him and started to drift back into the crowd.

Draco's mind started to race. "Would you like a tour of the Manor?" he asked quickly.

She paused, but did not turn around, and he was forced to stand staring at her shimmering green-and-gold clad back while other guests pushed around him in attempt to get to the punch bowl he was effectively blocking. "Are you offering to show me around the place?" she asked sarcastically, obviously thinking he meant something else by his comment.

Draco quickly ran around to stand in front of her so he could look her in the eye. "Well, you were supposed to be working on a story about the Malfoys tonight," he said. "And since it looks like you're not going to get anywhere near my father right now, you might as well spend your time focusing on a different part of your article, like the Malfoy's great ancestral home."

Ginny laughed at him. "Thanks, Malfoy, but I think I'll be able to manage just fine without your help."

She tried to leave for a third time and he quickly moved in front of her. "Look, Virginia," he said in a whisper, "I don't know about you but I'm ready to clear out of here. By taking you around the manor, we can get out of this room without pissing off my father. And hey, who knows, you might even actually get some interesting information for your story. What do you say?"

She didn't say anything, but rather mulled over what he had said for several moments. He noticed she had a rather enticing way of chewing on her lower lip while she was in thought, which almost made him laugh.

"Fine," she finally said. "But I want you to know the only, and I mean only reason I am going with you is because this party is hell-all boring and I really do need some background information for my piece on Lucius. If it weren't for these two things, I would never willing venture into a dark and practically empty manor with you."

"Understood," said Draco cheerfully, the euphoria from finally being able to leave the party only slightly greater than the wave of happiness he felt at finally getting Virginia to himself for awhile. "Come this way - I'll take you up to the north-east wing first, since that's were we keep most of the historical stuff."

Gulping down the rest of her punch with a 'what-have-I-gotten-myself-into' look on her face, Ginny left the glass on a table and went with Malfoy towards door slightly to the left of the ballroom stage, where the ghost orchestra was once again droning on. Waving his wand and grumbling something, Malfoy was able to get the door to open silently and they were able to slip out of the ballroom without causing too much of a ruckus.

***

"This is amazing!" Ginny exclaimed for what felt like the trillionth time that night several hours later. She scribbled furiously in her notebook. "Honestly, Draco, I never knew you lived in such an interesting house. There's so much history here! I always though you lived in some dank castle thing, with dungeons around every corner and torture paraphernalia hanging on the walls." She gazed in awe at the collection of ancient, magical jewelry that they had been staring at for they past forty-five minutes.

"All that stuff's in the basement," said Draco, only half-joking. "Come on, we've been here forever. Wouldn't you like the see the Malfoy collection of famous wands?"

Ginny slowly shook her head. "Just give me another few seconds. Like any girl, I've always loved jewelry. This on here is just fabulous." She pointed to a crude-yet-intricate beaten gold necklace inlaid with what appeared to be dark blue sapphires. Ginny was so caught up in the necklace that she didn't even notice when Draco stepped up behind her and leaned over her shoulder, breathing lightly on her neck.

"That's probably the oldest necklace in our collection," he whispered next to her ear. "According to legend, Rowena Ravenclaw gave it to her daughter Lucinda upon her entrance as one of the first students at Hogwarts." They were quiet, just staring at the necklace for a minute.

"Would you like to try it on?" Draco asked after a minute.

Ginny blinked, not sure she had heard him correctly. "Pardon?"

"I said, would you like to try the necklace on?" Without waiting for an answer, he swished his wand around and the necklace rose from it's place on the marble-topped table and slipped over her head before settling itself on her neck.

Dazed at the thought of wearing something Rowena Ravenclaw could have possible touched around her neck, Ginny wandered over to a large gilded mirror that hung several feet down the hall and stared at her reflection with an expression of disbelief on her face.

"I shouldn't be wearing this," she said, almost to herself. "What if I accidentally ruin it?" She couldn't help smiling slightly, though, and she turned her head from side to side, making the necklace glint in the faint candlelight of the dark room.

Draco's reflection appeared behind her in the mirror. "Well, the blue clashes horribly with your robes, but otherwise it looks stunning on you." She gaped and saw him smile slightly.

"Did Draco Malfoy just offer me a compliment?" she asked teasingly. "Is the world ending, or something?" He had been civil, even friendly to her all night. She couldn't figure it out.

"There's no catch," he said, the tiny smile still on his face. "It's a purely genuine compliment, and I meant it entirely." Suddenly, he rested his head on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her, gently entwining his hands with hers.

Shocked, Ginny jumped slightly and turned her head to stare at him in disbelief, but he pretended he didn't notice and kept staring at their reflections. "What are you doing?" she asked, slightly hysterical-sounding.

***

"Shh," Draco said, and tightened his arms around her, pulling her against he chest. In the mirror, he could still see the frantic look in her eyes, but he heard her utter a small sigh of content nevertheless.

God, what was he doing?

Oh, right, seducing Virginia over to the New Ministry's side. Mmm, her hair smelled like strawberries...

Her reflection was eyeing him. "When I first saw you in my house the other day," he said slowly, trying to keep his mind on the mission and not on the smell of strawberries wafting around his head, "Did I tell you how beautiful you've become since I last saw you?"

"No."

"Oh." A moment of silence went by. "It must have slipped my mind."

"Malfoy," she said loudly, and started to fidget. "I don't know what you're playing at, but you'd better let go of me right now. In fact, I think I'd better be leaving -"

Suddenly, Draco pulled her around him and kissed her. He wasn't sure exactly why - partly because he didn't want her to even think of leaving, partly because it was part of his mission, and partly because he just wanted to. When he first placed his mouth over hers she had made a sound of surprise and indignation, but she didn't push him away...in fact, she seemed to be kissing him back.

Draco decided to push his luck further. Gently, he pushed Ginny backwards until he had her up against the wall. He pulled the clips from her hair, and ran his ringers through it as it fell softly around her shoulders. She placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled him closer to her as their tongues tangled. Unconsciously, she let out a small moan and Draco nearly laughed. This was going better than he expected, he thought to himself. He moved his hands lower.

Suddenly, his head was spinning and Ginny was standing ten feet away from him. He turned to look in the mirror and saw that even in the dark room, his cheek was red. She had slapped him!

"What was that for?" he demanded angrily.

"I was about to ask you the same thing!" she yelled back at him, color rising in her cheeks. "One minute I'm just standing there looking at a necklace, and two seconds later, you're all over me!"

"Well, it's not like you weren't all over me as well," he retorted.

She stopped and blushed at this. "Well, you caught me by surprise," she said. "I don't know what's up with you, Draco Malfoy. I'm leaving." Yanking the necklace off of her, she shoved it into Draco's hand as she stalked across the room and exited, slamming the door behind her.

"Virginia!" Draco called after her, tossing the thousand-year-old necklace carelessly aside as he ran out into the hallway after her. "Virginia! Come back!"

He caught up with her just before she reached the main foyer. "Virginia! Where do you think you're going?" The noises of the party, which was still in full swing, could be heard quite clearly now.

"What do you think? I'm leaving! I've had quite enough of your Malfoy hospitality for one night, thank you. In fact, I've had enough for one lifetime. It was interesting seeing you again, Draco. Have a nice life."

He grabbed her hand and swung her towards him. "You are not leaving until I've had the chance to explain myself," he said, trying to catch his breath.

She violently snatched her hand away from his and crossed her arms, staring haughtily at him. "Fine. I'm here. I'm listening. Tell me, what the hell was all of that about?"

Draco realized he didn't have anything to say. He couldn't very well tell her the truth. He scrambled for something to say.

He was still trying frantically to come up with something when the sounds of laughter in the ballroom turned into screams.

Ginny frowned. "What is that?" she said, forgetting she was supposed to be in the middle of a tantrum.

But the familiar sounds of war had alerted Draco's senses, and instinct took over. "Get down!" he yelled. Grabbing Ginny in his arms, he threw the both of them underneath a table against the wall of the hallway.

A split second later, a huge explosion rocketed from the ballroom, shooting debris a hundred feet in every direction and completely blanketing the spot where Draco and Ginny had stood moments before.