They had money, they had influence, they had power. By mid-Wednesday morning, Draco had every major wizarding paper in Britain quaking in their boots, fawning over his, and blithering promises about retractions. Never mind their precious stories, or their earnings. He didn't even have to pay them off. Just the Malfoy name and presence was enough.

It would be a lie to say he didn't enjoy the groveling. He found it amusing most of the time. Sometimes he pretended to be angrier than he actually was, just to see how much they'd discard their dignity.

But on the other hand...

"Draco!"

"Pansy," he acknowledged, turning slowly.

TeenWitch devoted endless columns to the art of flirting- batting eyelashes, charms for the skin and eyes, how to stand, where to put your hands. How to cock your head, how often to brush up against the other.

Pansy had devoured those articles, cramming all she could in that tiny brain of hers. She followed every step, and one would think she was really interested save for one thing- her eyes were cold. And it made him a little queasy that she wasn't attracted to him because he was good-looking (and he was very good looking). She wanted him for his power and his money.

"Fancy meeting you here," she said, bright tone, bright smile, cold eyes.

He flicked his gaze to the ceiling. "Total surprise." Which of course, it wasn't. Probably his mother had told her mother his plans for the day, who promptly relayed the information to Pansy, and in this chain of convoluted gossip, Pansy had decided it was the perfect opportunity to get something she wanted.

Now, to determine what she wanted...

She awoke at about half past nine, threw her hair up in a half-hearted ponytail, and wandered out into her kitchen. After putting some water on for her morning tea, she fetched her paper from outside her door.

I could write a book on that dream, she mused, flipping past a front page blissfully devoid of her name.

Tea and toast, strawberry jam. It was warm and normal, and maybe her life was warm and normal again, too. She bit into the toast and smiled, reading the weather predictions.

Light rapping came on her door. "Ginny?"

It was Harry, and her mouth was too full of toast to answer.

"Ginny, you home?"

Nope, she thought, then was pleasantly surprised to see that it wasn't supposed to rain.

"Alohamora," Harry announced, and opened the door.

He was standing right next to the open closet, where empty hangars were plainly in view, and he tossed his jacket on the floor. "Jesus, Ginny," was his opening comment. She could tell he was peeved that he'd found her in her kitchen, but whether it was because he was upset he'd been caught at breaking and entering or because she hadn't answered him was debatable.

Ginny sighed, drank some tea, and gave him a look. "Maybe I didn't want to talk to you. Did you ever figure that?"

"Maybe you could have been dying on the floor," he retorted. "Did you ever figure that?"

"You're such a loser," she said, even though it wasn't really an answer. She checked the wristwatch sitting on the counter. "And it's not even ten o'clock. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm trying to apologize," he said, exasperated.

"You're not doing a very good job of it." She turned the page. Damn, I'm good at this disinterest stuff today. "You could have at least come at a better time."

"Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry I blew up at you the other day. It was uncalled for."

"And?"

"And it's none of my business who you date."

"Thank you." Delicately sipped her tea. "Apology accepted."

He cleared his throat. "But, uh, you aren't dating Malfoy, right?"

"No."

"So then, you are... available?"

She spit out her tea, the liquid spraying all over the remnants of her toast. "Is that all you think about?"

"Not all," he said, mildly offended.

"You just came over here for sex!"

"I can't say it wasn't a determining factor!"

She glared at him. "God, you are such an asshole."

"I don't know what's wrong with you!" Harry shouted. "Look, you were fine with it before!"

"I was fine with it because I thought we were going to be something more! But instead it was the same thing over and over again. You'd come back, we'd have sex, and you’d leave again. No long-term commitment, just a bed buddy every few months."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"It just gets old after awhile, Harry. And I'm not putting up with it anymore."

It was a standoff. He glared, she glared, neither moved.

"I'm leaving," he finally said.

"Good."

He left, and she finished her tea. Then she noticed his jacket remained on her floor, and contemplated burning it.

"Yes," Draco answered shortly. It was not really a secret. His birthday party was a rather large occasion every year, especially in their circles. Of course the Parkinsons would be invited.

Pansy smiled seductively. Mouth curled up, teeth showing just a little. Eyes still blank. "I was wondering if you'd like a date."

He tried to imagine Pansy as his wife, in his bed. Tried to imagine her with the next Malfoy heir. Two or three children with those empty eyes and emptier brains. If you go with her, it'll just encourage the maternal plotting. You'll never be able to get out of it.

Well, he thought reasonably, I've gone with her to things before. Yule Ball. Hogwarts functions. We haven't been through the parson's trap yet. An evening is just an evening. He was doing a rather good job of resigning himself to such an evening.

So he was completely unprepared for what came out of his mouth.

"I've already got a date, thanks."

"Oh," she said, eyes finally flashing. Anger that perhaps she was losing her chance at his money.

He'd die before he let her at the Malfoy millions.

She stomped off, most unattractively (apparently gracefully exiting was never addressed in TeenWitch), and then it occurred to him:

Now he had to find a date.

She wound up outside the Ministry building where Percy now worked, which was only a few blocks from her flat. He'd been promoted recently to the head of this particular establishment, although what exactly he did had escaped her mind.

"Ms. Weasley," a guard said. "Nice to see you."

"Is my brother here?"

"Yes, ma'am," said a practically identical guard. "Third floor, fourth door on the left."

"Thank you," she said, then paused before entering. "Are you two related?"

"No, ma'am," they chorused.

She shook her head briefly in confusion, then headed in and up the stairs.

The halls were absolutely mobbed with personnel, and almost everyone was carrying a muffin in partially masticated states. A blond witch poked her head a doorway and said, "Excellent muffins, boss." Surrounding witches and wizards voiced their assent.

Ginny walked into Percy's office. "You often make baked goods at work, Perce?"

Percy blushed. "Ah, well..." He blushed a little more. "It breeds loyalty."

"I needed to get out of the apartment and thought I'd drop by. How's work going?"

"Quite nice, actually," he said. "We've been making much progress on the classification of the types of Erumpent horns. And just today-" His gaze moved to something behind her, and she turned to view their new companion.

It was a boy- well, a man really. About Percy's age. Only a little taller than her, 5'7" or so. And he too was holding a half-eaten muffin.

"You made my mother's muffins," said the man in delight. "Did you snitch the recipe from my kitchen?"

Percy dropped his head and blushed even more. How red can he get? Ginny wondered.

"I might have done," he mumbled, cheeks flaming.

"You must be Ginny," said the man, flashing his dimples and holding out a hand.

Ginny took the hand firmly and shook. "And you are?"

"I'm Tim," he said.

"He's my assistant," Percy said quickly.

"Yup," Tim said. "I'm very efficient."

"Ah, in that case," Ginny said, "could you tell me if my brother will be coming to Sunday dinner at the Burrow?"

Tim shook his head. "I'm afraid he's otherwise engaged. What is it this weekend? Pumpkin pie?"

Percy coughed. "Pumpkin pie was last weekend."

"Right, right," Tim said blithely. "I believe my mum is teaching him how to make pineapple upside down cake this Sunday."

Ginny turned to Percy. "Are you going to tell Mum?"

"About not coming to Sunday dinner?" he said weakly.

"About you-know-what-I'm-talking-about," she said, jerking a thumb imperceptibly to Tim.

Tim probably noticed anyway.

"Not yet," he said. "And could you-"

"Keep quiet?" she surmised. "Yeah, yeah."

Percy relaxed his shoulders. "Thank you."

"I'll see you around." Ginny tossed a grin over her shoulder then grinned again at Tim. "Keep him out of trouble?"

Tim's dimples winked at her. "Always."

Well, actually only one dreadful noise, but three times.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Go away," she yelled, writing furiously.

"I need a favor."

She froze.

"Malfoy?" She dropped her pen and went to open the door.

God, he was hot.

His white-blond hair was falling in his eyes, eyes that were piercing her own, by the way, and he was wearing the most fabulously tight black turtleneck under his robes.

"I'm having a party next Monday," he said. "Or rather, my parents are throwing one for me."

"What for?" she asked, confused.

"Birthday," he said. "I'll be twenty-six."

"Congratulations," she said.

"Thanks," he said shortly. "For the sake of brevity, let me say that Pansy Parkinson has major aspirations to amend her last name with mine. I told her I had a date."

He looked expectantly at her.

"I'm guessing," she said slowly, "that's a roundabout way of asking me to go with you."

"Yes."

Ginny didn't have the heart to condemn anyone to Pansy.

"I don't have anything to wear." Which was true. She'd already brought out the big guns yesterday.

"I'll send you something," he said. "Come to Malfoy Manor at eight?"

"Monday, at eight. Alright."

"Thank you," he said, and apparated.

Tim was carrying a pair of skates, swinging them in circles by the laces. He waved wildly, but lost grip of one of the skates. The blade came flying towards Ginny and pierced her skull. She collapsed into a bloody heap onto the ground.

"Oh my god!" cried Tim.

"This is awful!" Percy said, hugging Tim and crying. They went off to an abandoned building to seek solace in each other.

Draco happened by and stared at the bloodstains on the cobblestones. The way the blood was coming out of her hair was certainly interesting- unlike his life, which was boring. Fascinated, he watched the blood pool.

Maybe watching people die was what he needed.

"You killed her!" Harry accused, popping out of nowhere.

"I did not," Draco said, offended. He probably would have done it better if he had.

"I hate you!" Harry declared, and punched him.

They got into a spectacular wrestling match, rolling around on the ground and hitting each other. While getting warm, they also apparently got hot, and left to spontaneously have hot monkey sex.

Ron came to identify Ginny's body. "This is just so sad," he said to Hermione, holding her hand.

"Look at the sunset," Hermione said.

"It's so gorgeous," Ron said. "I love you."

"What," she said, enunciating clearly, "the fuck was that?"

He hated the dinner party, the meaningless gifts. The dancing.

Where was she?

Friends from school kept on coming up to him, each showing off his devotion to the Dark Lord. Proud that they'd become men finally- men just like their fathers.

The Dark Arts flowed through his veins. Trained, taught to tap into it from an early age. He had no problems with wielding his gift.

He did have a problem with putting himself in service to Voldemort.

He didn't like taking orders.

Thank god his father still wasn't here, or he'd be hearing both the "when will you get married" and the "when will you join the Death Eaters" lines.

She breezed in, looking like she was trying hard to ignore all the eyes on her. She was wearing the dress he had purchased- soft, light green. Short. Little frills. He knew he'd liked it when he'd bought it- but he liked it so much more actually on her.

"Happy birthday," she said.

He took her hands. "Dance," he said simply.

She was hesitant, but let him lead her out into the dancing area. He pulled her close- not too close, but not close enough- and slid into the dance. "Are you always late?" he murmured into her ear.

"It's a disease," she said seriously. "I can't be on time for anything."

"You do realize that you are enemy number one on Pansy's list now."

Pansy's anger was almost palpable, even halfway across the room.

"I had imagined that was going to happen," she said.

He began to desperately wish that the mansion was devoid of people, as all he really wanted to do with her in his arms was to get that little green dress off. This was a really stupid idea, he thought miserably, being so close and yet not close at the same time.

"Maybe we should go in for dinner," Ginny suggested uneasily.

Maybe he wasn't the only one.

He escorted her to the seat next to his. He decided not to count the number of courses, as there were too many and his brain was not quite functioning properly.

They ate, and talked, and all of the guests stared at them.

"Sir," Howard said, tapping his shoulder. "I need to talk to you."

"Later," Draco said.

"Sir, it's about your father. It's urgent."

"I'll be right back," he said to Ginny.

"Alright," she said, looking nervous.

Draco went with Howard into his study, and closed the door.

"Voldemort?" Draco said in low tones.

"No, no," Howard said, violently shaking. "I wish to God that it was."

"If not Voldemort, then what?"

"Your father," his butler said, white-faced. "He's dead."