Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter Three:

"You know, Weasley, there are times I think you might be Schizophrenic?" Malfoy said.

Fred laughed, too loudly. It boomed and bounced on the surrounding walls. For once Ginny was glad this was a little office she basically ran on her own. The employees she'd spoke of before actually worked in the shop, not here. Of course, Malfoy and the twins had to stop by occasionally since this also happened to be the place, one office over to be exact, where the experiments took place.

"Schizo? Me? Aren't you hilarious? You know, being Schizophrenic is better than being alone… like you!"

"And on that note-" Fred intercepted and slowly started to back away.

Draco sneered. "I'm just tired of all the girls throwing themselves at me. Although, there are some girls I wouldn't mind getting some action from," he said raising an eyebrow suggestively at her.

Ginny frowned. "Okay, just exactly when did I start wearing a shirt that said 'I'm wicked easy' on it? Are you kidding me?"

"Oh wait, you didn't really think I was talking about you, did you? Please, Weasley, don't flatter yourself."

She bared her teeth as her cheeks flushed against her will. Now that she was flustered she had to get them out. "I have work to do." Ginny snipped out, her voice giving away to her irritation.

"Don't let me hold you up."

Ginny gave a tight-lipped smile. "I'm not."

Her heart was racing from the embarrassment, but just as Malfoy started to walk away an idea sparked in her head. "Malfoy?" She called to him loud enough so that he partially turned back towards her, a silver eyebrow raised at the soft seductive tone she'd slipped into her voice.

She quickly pouted her lips at him. "There's not much I wouldn't do to you if you took me to Tuscan."

Fred's mouth dropped open as his gaze darted back and forth between them. He remained speechless, even as the red that tipped Malfoy's ears spread into his cheeks and neck.

Ha! I got you, you little…

"Really?" Malfoy finally managed and she was only a little upset that his voice sounded so normal.

"But you aren't interested right?"

He raised a finger and his lips moved, almost as if he was about to say something, but decided against it.

Pft. That'll show him!

Her date was going downhill. Actually, it was more like down a mountain of endless pointed rocks continuously jabbing into her spine. For starters, he wasn't the best looking male when he showed up at her door, damn those blind dates, but Ginny knew that looks weren't absolutely everything, so she ignored it. The trip to the dinner had been quiet, even obscenely awkward at times, but Ginny, being the Good Samaritan she was, passed it off as first date jitters.

When he failed to hold the door open to the restaurant, she found herself trying not to be flat out offended. She wondered if he'd been thinking that holding the door open would be considered sexist, an archaic practice. In this day and age, who knew, but first dates didn't apply to those rules. She should write a book. Girl Psych 101: A Guys Guide to Dating Girls. Rule number one: on the first date open doors for the girl.

Of course, the real reason for her anger was probably that she'd assumed he would be a gentleman and hold the door open, so she failed to stop her brisk pace after him, and ran smack into the crystal clear glass door, smudging its spiffy surface.

Yeah, that was probably it.

Although, it turned out that not only was he an anal, self-absorbed, unemployed accountant-how does that happen?-who was looking to reel her into hiring him, but he was also a rude, health food psychotic, tight arsed git. Technically, being a health food nut would be a pro instead of a con, but when she wanted chocolate, she wanted chocolate, health nut be bloody damned.

And how dare he turn his nose up at her for ordering that chocolate cake?

"So I was reading this health book and it said-"

"Well, you know what they say about reading health books, you may die of misprint!" Ginny laughed, trying desperately to lighten the mood, and change the subject, with some form of comedy, smacking her hand against the table for proper sound effects. She quickly stopped when she realized he wasn't laughing.

He stared at her as if she were a fly that had landed in his wine glass before he cleared his throat and spoke, his arrogance a shining spotlight in his downright testiness. "Ah-right, so we should probably calculate the bill. Considering you ate most of the salad with most of the vegetables and cheese, not to mention that horribly fattening chocolate cake you ordered-" He started muttering the rest, whipping out a calculator from his front pocket.

Ginny's eyebrows shot up and her mouth slightly parted as she watched his fingers darting over the calculator. Bloody hell, she thought glancing down at herself and eventually coming to the conclusion that she looked like date material. So clearly, well at least to anyone normal, they would know this was a date, a first date.

Apparently, in that book she planned on writing, she'd already decided on the number two rule of first dates: the man should always pay for the first meal and only on the second meal should the female even consider offering to pay.

And when she said she looked good, she meant it. After all, it was rare for her to compliment herself. Her red hair was twisted up in a somewhat elegant bun, tendrils of hair, that were supposed to cup the sides of her face, tucked behind her ears, and her black, almost sporty dress, she'd come to realize, was a little too tight for this particular date. She was sexy, clean, and stylish…check, check, and check.

What was wrong with this guy?

"So three fourths of the bill is yours," he informed.

Was she, or was she not on a date? Was he really expecting her to pay? Did she waste a whole month's check getting these new stylish clothes so she could then spend hours getting ready only to be treated this way?

She knew she was old fashioned, but his was ridiculous. She could see if it were a third date, even in extreme circumstances a second date, but a first date?

"Just take me away from here," she whispered into her wine glass. Someone was definitely playing a joke on her. It's the only reasonable explanation.

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