Draco met back up with his mother, still reeling from Ginny's little stunt. She had played him like a violin. She had turned his game back around on him. He had planned to get her hot and bothered, and then leave her wanting more. He wanted to charm her closer. But instead she had turned the game around, attacking him with her own controlled need and then, at a moment's notice, pulled back completely. She had sauntered away from him with a devilish smirk, and it made Draco want to slap her and then kiss her again. She had pulled his same damn trick on him, and, somehow, he hadn't seen it coming.

As Draco walked with his mother, she chatted about inane things: the prices of gloves, a cashmere shawl, the new hat she wanted to buy. Draco politely nodded along to her ramblings, but he knew she was just filling time until they were alone. She wanted to discuss something serious, but she would never do it in public. Knowing one of his mother's interrogations was coming, Draco contented himself in pondering Narcissa's interaction with Ginny.

He'd tried to remain calm, walking behind his mother and George's sister, praying neither said anything that set the other off on a tirade. Either could be so stubborn as to alienate even people they knew and liked, and these women had no obligation to like anything about the other. And yet, as he'd walked behind them, feigning disinterest and straining his ears, he'd watched platinum and red hair bounce amicably beside each other. They were each playing a political game, although what they hoped to gain, Draco had no idea. It seemed to him like neither truly knew what they wanted, they just weren't going to show weakness to the other.

Draco snapped out of his reverie as they reached the Three Broomsticks, and Narcissa requested a private dining room. Tom took them to the back room the Malfoys had always used when they visited the pub. It was not especially large, but it provided them the privacy that Narcissa needed.

Draco was surprised that his mother did not launch straight into whatever it was she wanted to talk about, but something was holding her back. She instead ordered a pot of tea and scones. As the Tom left to collect the food, Narcissa stood and stared pensively out of a window overlooking the alley. Draco took the time to return to his own thoughts. What had just happened? How had Ginny managed to come out of a conversation with his mother in one piece? People normally left conversations with Narcissa crying, at least. His mother clearly wanted something from Ginny, but if it was information or time or something else, Draco couldn't tell.

Maybe this was his mother's own attempt at cultivating her image? It was a pretty safe bet. The Weasleys were a well-respected Pureblood family who had landed on the "right side" of the war. And of all the Gryffindors Draco had ever met, Ginny and George were the most like Slytherins he had ever known. They were cunning, clever, witty, and Ginny had shown just now how cruel she could be. Draco smirked, chiding himself mentally. His dignity was a little bruised, but he was blowing her teasing out of proportion, he knew that. Had he been able to joke with George about it, he would have laid his hand across his breast, feigning grave injury. He knew George would laugh at his poncy imitation, and probably would have been proud of his sister for snubbing Draco, if he didn't have an aneurysm at the idea of them snogging. George and Fred had been famous in school for their harsh jokes, jokes that ran in the family, it seemed. Now George made money off that same mean spirit. Draco was benefitting from that too.

"You have a meeting this evening, is that correct?" said Narcissa, abruptly. Draco was startled by her sudden comment, and her uncharacteristic interest in his business dealings. She mostly left him alone in that matter. He had asked her once, why she had fingers in every pie except his work life, and she had replied sternly. "The Malfoys have enough money that you couldn't fritter it away with any incompetence. It just isn't possible. If you happen to earn us any extra, what a boon! If not, your foolishness won't ultimately harm us. I must focus on what people think of us, not on how we truly are. That's your business."

On the one hand, she was right. The Malfoy fortune was massive, and the estates far-reaching, extending off the British Isles and onto the European continent. If Draco did somehow manage to make a sizeable dent in the family fortune, it would have been through a concerted effort, and not idle ineptitude. Still, his mother's comments solidified, in Draco's mind at least, how alone he was. He was paying for his parents', his father's mistakes, and no one was going to help him.

"Yes, I'm meeting George for drinks and a casual chat about the holiday earnings," Draco answered the question as neatly and factually as he could. Any extra details would just give his mother fodder for questioning or criticism.

"You know I didn't think much of him when I met him. The family aside, he didn't strike me as anyone particularly adept." Narcissa caught the Draco looking at her from under his brows. "A perfectly charming young man, but he's not going to win a seat on the Wizengamot any time soon. His sister is a different matter, however. She is too cunning for a Gryffindor, I don't know why the Sorting Hat put her in that house. She's clearly of the right sort, no matter what her family upbringing." It wasn't hard for Draco to tell what 'the right sort' meant. Political, shrewd, manipulative, all the things Narcissa valued. And all traits Ginny had. It was remarkable really. Narcissa looked very sternly at her saucer, pursing her lips. She was perched on the edge of the dingy couch like it was her throne. Draco was used to her decorum, but the stark contrast between her bespoke robes and the worn surroundings reminded him once again that his mother was not someone to be trifled with.

"She's… unexpected," granted Draco. He kept his true feelings close to his chest. She was beyond unexpected, she was riveting. He couldn't stop thinking about her. She had occupied his every thought since he left her in Gryffindor tower. She was enrapturing, gorgeous. Her eyes lit up and sparkled and she was fiery and stunning and made him want to annoy her just to get her attention. He loved the way her eyes narrowed and her lips quirked into a smirk when he landed a jibe. If anyone could appreciate a well-placed tease, it was Ginny Weasley.

"Yes, well… Keep an eye on her." Draco felt Narcissa looking at him with a queer expression on her face, but when he turned to look at her, she was nibbling at her scone, all traces of probing gone.

"Everyone's asking me to do that recently," he said, more to himself than anyone. He kept his own expression trained on his tea, but monitored his mother's reaction. Ever the professional, she didn't even flinch. If his mother had had the misfortune of being born a Muggle, MI5 could have used a woman of her insufferable tact.

"It will be interesting to have her over for tea." And with that, the conversation slipped back to superficial pleasantries. Narcissa filled the silence with gossip about the higher echelons of wizarding society: Mr. Greengrass was publicizing his Pureblood Family Artefact Restitution Fund with a gala in late January; Mrs. Zabini's latest husband had died under suspicious conditions and she was on the prowl again; the elder Mrs. Bulstrode had rewritten her will right before dying, and the entire family was in a snit. This sort of meaningless chitchat continued until Mrs. Malfoy had finished her scone and tea. She then got up and kissed Draco on each cheek. "Have a good evening, darling." And she apparated away.

Draco was left in the lurch. He hadn't had to pay that much attention during the conversation, and he couldn't believe he got out of one of "Mum's serious chats" so easily. Yet, he was left with a feeling of unease. He knew it wouldn't really be resolved until Christmas Day, until Ginny came and had tea with the Malfoy matriarch.

Draco met with George that evening. The ginger looked exhausted. He wandered over to the bar with glassy eyes, sitting down with an uncontrolled thud, like he couldn't even be bothered to set himself down. He just flopped. Draco slid him the pint of beer he had waiting, and George gratefully guzzled it down in one big swig.

"Drinking to forget the day?" Draco asked, looking at George sidelong.

"Shop was horrible today," croaked George in answer. "Everyone pushing and yelling and just throwing absolute fits when they couldn't get what they so desperately needed just right then. It just does my head in." He ordered another beer, and sipped that more reservedly. A combination of fuming and exhausted, he slumped over his glass, leaning his head on one hand. "You're so lucky being an investor does not include working in the damn shop."

Draco raised his pint glass to his lips. "You'd get a lot more tips though."

George rolled his eyes so hard he almost hit his head on his glass. "We're a joke shop. We don't take tips."

"Well you'd have to put out a collection jar if I worked there," teased Draco, feigning superiority. "I'm so charming I could get ten Galleons out of a goblin."

"If he didn't off himself, just to stop listening to your voice. You ever started putting the moves on me and I think I'll cut my other ear off." George smiled, bantering back. The weight of the day was starting to leave him. Draco smirked to himself, feeling satisfied. Part of being friends with people was being what they needed you to be. Draco was pleased to be George's suave annoyance. The role suited him, and he could gently tease his friend out of any sour moods.

"I've been meaning to ask," said George offhandedly, "how was the party? Ginny was pretty quiet about the whole thing."

Draco swallowed his beer, trying to keep calm. "Not really much to say, mate. A bunch of older students got together and drank a lot of champagne. I sat and sipped my whiskey, surveyor and minder of the castle. Your sister chatted and danced at a, frankly, despicably conservative distance from any of her partners," he said throwing George a pointed look. "Hmm, got Neville Longbottom a shag, somehow…"

George raised his eyebrows, but sipped his beer knowingly. "Luna, huh? How'd she finally manage?"

"Some sneaky mistletoe relocation. How did you guess?"

"That has been a thorn in her side for ages. She complained about it all the time. Glad to hear it finally panned out," George spun a coaster around on the table by one corner.

"Has she always been so ready to… meddle?" Draco asked. He was intrigued. This was a chance for him to learn about Ginny and who she was in private. George would be able to give him insight, figure out how to get under her skin.

"Pretty much, yeah. She likes to mess with people. She was a great asset to us in our pranking heyday," George looked wistful.

"Yeah, you like to mess with people too," said Draco pointedly. George was playing with the ruined shell of his ear. Draco was reminded of his dead twin, Fred. Before his injury, and Fred's untimely death, obviously, the twins had been identical, down to the pattern of their freckles. They were inseparable. Back in their school days, they had wreaked havoc on the other students, regardless of which house they were in. Draco remembered a few key instances when he'd been on the receiving end of a prank, and he'd wanted to hex George and Fred's indistinguishable freckled noses off.

"Why do you think I'm friends with you, mate?" said George slyly. "You were always the best to wind up." Draco made a rude gesture and George shoved him with his shoulder.

"You all think you're so funny," drawled Draco.

"Get to talking to Gin at all?" asked George. "Sounds like you were at the other end of a tongue lashing."

Draco almost blushed at the unintentional double entendre, and only years of keeping up appearances in front of his mother kept his face from reddening. "Yes, once she decided she wasn't going to jinx my toes off, I did get to speak to her. I almost enjoyed myself."

"Hey, thanks for going. Somehow, having even a slimy git like you there made me feel better. Knowing someone was looking out for my sister."

"It was fine. Nothing happened." Draco said, reassuring George for the umpteenth time, while mentally crossing his fingers. 'Nothing bad happened.'

By the end of the night George was more than a little punchy, the combination of a few beers and a long day working the joke shop were starting to take their toll. Draco helped walk him to the Floo fireplace in the pub. George was in no state to Apparate.

"More damn Floo," muttered George. Then suddenly, he turned to Draco. "You play it cool, but be honest: did anything happen between you and Gin? She seems all distracted, and I can't help but pin it down to the party."

Draco rolled his eyes a little, even as his heart skipped a beat. He played with telling George that he was clandestinely meeting Ginny in backrooms and behind suits of armor to snog. That Ginny was coming over to meet his mother and have tea. The thought of George's reaction almost made Draco flush. He would be livid. But Draco felt like if George could see that Ginny was easily holding her own against him, his fears would be instantly assuaged. But the thought of losing his friendship, and business partnership, was just not worth it tonight.

"I kept my promise," he said, recreating the arm position from when he had taken his oath. Even under Veritaserum, that statement would hold up. He hadn't touched Ginny, not until after Ginny had touched him. "I didn't make a move on your sister, and I made sure no one else did, either."

George seemed satisfied, much to Draco's relief. He didn't want to lie to him. Not to his face, not about this. Telling half-truths was just so much more palatable. He patted Draco's arm once, hard, in relief, and then climbed into the fireplace. Then he was engulfed in flames, and disappeared.

Draco soon followed him, landing in the basement once more. He trudged up to his room, contemplating the next few days. Ginny was coming for tea on Christmas day, just the day after tomorrow, and Draco wasn't sure what to expect. His mother was clearly orchestrating something, and Ginny deserved a fighting chance at success. He stopped dead in his march to his room, as a new thought occurred to him. 'What is she going to wear? Oh, please, Merlin, don't come in anything shabby.' His mother was trying to be more accepting, but if Ginny showed up wearing jeans or a homemade sweater, he'd never see her again. His mother would just gut her and serve her for Christmas dinner.

The next afternoon, after a distracted meeting with some of his father's old business partners, Draco had some time to accomplish the task he had left for himself. He braved Christmas Eve shoppers and found her something he deemed to his mother's taste. He took into account her insistence that Ginny was a Slytherin girl inside: 'the right sort'.

Just after tea, he packaged his gift and strung it between two of the family's eagle owls. He wrote a quick note, and signed it with an initial, like his first note. He didn't know if Ginny was keeping their meeting secret from everyone, but if she was, an incriminating letter with his name on it was the last thing she would need.

After a final check that everything was in place, Draco instructed the eagle owls as to their destination. They looked at him haughtily before nodding to each other and hopping off the windowsill. He leaned against the huge bath, staring out the window, watching the eagle owls fly into the setting sun, parcel strung between them, until he could no longer see them.

A/N: Sorry for the long gap. This chapter gave me a lot of trouble. I'm looking to pick up a beta to help me shift through my ideas faster. If you are interested, please PM me! ~megglette