Ginny Weasley toyed with her hair as she gazed at the blurring landscape outside of the Hogwarts Express. She often wondered where the train traveled through in England. All the wards and charms placed around the school made it undetectable. Muggles who found it would see crumbling ruins so damaged it was hardly worth checking out.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Neville’s voice broke into her daze.

Ginny gave him a slanted smile. “Nothing really. I’m just not looking forward to this school year very much.”

Neville furrowed his brow. “It’s your fifth year! So you…”

She cut him off, “I get to what? Take O.W.L.S.? Study until my brains fall out?”

Neville’s expression dropped slightly, but he attempted to continue, “Well, they’re not all that bad. I mean, if I did well, then surely you will.”

“Oh, Neville,” Ginny sighed. “It’s not just that. It’s everything.” She let out the last word in a whisper.

It meant so much to her that she didn’t have to elaborate for Neville to understand what she was talking about.

Try as she might, she couldn’t forget what had happened to her and her friends just before the summer. The ever present muscle strain in her leg didn’t let her forget how they had all nearly died. How Harry had almost died. How Sirius had actually died, and thus a part of Harry had gone with him as well. Ginny could’ve performed a simple healing charm to help with her pain, but something prevented her from doing so.

When they had finally emerged from the Department of Mysteries, they had been mobbed by dozens of people, fawning over them, asking questions, probing, poking, and staring. They had just gone through something that no group of rogue fourteen year olds should have to endure and people felt staring, no, gawking would help the least bit?

Her first thoughts had been with her friends, especially Harry. They’d each been injured physically in some way. And yet, that was just the tip of the iceberg. They’d seen evil right in the face and their youth was officially gone. And perhaps that’s why she bore the strained muscles, as a constant reminder of what lay ahead for her and the wizarding world.

“Ginny! Are you alright! Oh, Merlin! Ginny!” her mother’s voice rang in her ears. Her head was spinning. Her mother was here? When? How?

“Mum! I-I…you’re here!” she spun around, shaking off Luna’s firm grip on her arm. She collapsed into her mother’s arms and all she could see was red, the red of her mother’s hair. She breathed in her mother in raked sobs, shuddering almost violently.

“Ginny…oh, Ginny.” her mother murmured. She felt another set of arms wrap around her and she didn’t have to lift her head to know it was her father. He didn’t say anything, but held her and her mother tight.

And then she needed to see Ron. “Mum, Dad,” she choked out. “Ron!” Her mother tried to quiet her, to reassure her that the mediwitches were attending to her brother, but she didn’t comprehend any of it. She tore herself from her parents’ warm embrace and searched for another head of red hair.

Instead, she noticed Lupin. He was standing with Dumbledore and ministry officials. If she hadn’t noticed the wear and tear on Lupin’s face before, she certainly noticed it now. He seemed to have aged in just a few hours. His robes were torn, his hair disheveled, and his gaze was haunted. Ginny wanted to shout, “He lost his best friend; don’t you see! Leave him alone! Leave us alone!”

And then she thought of Harry. Harry was no where to be found. Was he with Ron? Where was everyone? She began to feel dizzy and her vision blurred. She vaguely heard someone call out her name and then all went black.

The slam of their compartment door brought her back once again from a daze. Luna walked in with her robes billowing behind her as she took a seat next to Ginny.

“Where’ve you been, Luna?” Ginny asked. Her friend had been gone for at least twenty minutes.

“Well, I noticed that my copy of The Quibbler was missing so I thought I’d make inquiries throughout the train about it.”

“And did you find it?” Neville asked hopefully.

“No. Quite a few people actually charmed their compartments so that I couldn’t enter. I presume one of them has it and wanted a good read. They could’ve just asked,” she replied dreamily.

“Yeah, they should’ve just asked,” she said distractedly. “By the way, since you’re back, did you happen to see Harry? He hasn’t been in here for a while either.”

Since the previous year she’d been accustomed to riding the Hogwarts Express with Neville, Luna, and Harry. Her brother Ron and Hermione sat in the prefects compartment and seldom came by to visit.

“No, I haven’t,” Luna responded.

Maybe he received permission to sit with Ron and Hermione, Ginny thought. This thought immediately left her mind when the two prefects bustled into the compartment.

“Honestly, Ron, it’s not all that bad. It’s for our own good,” Hermione huffed.

“Really, Hermione? The school is a bloody prison! I thought with Umbridge gone, things would get better.” Ron scowled.

“What happened?” Neville and Ginny asked together. Luna was twirling her wand in silence.

“They’ve provided us with rules for our own safety..” Hermione attempted to explain, but Ron’s scowl deepened.

“Not just rules. They’ve basically taken away all our privileges,” he fumed.

“We can still visit Hogsmeade! We argued for that very well,” Hermione tried again.

“Oh, sure, but we’re still searched like some filthy criminal, given curfews before the sun even sets, and…”

“Seriously, Ron, if you turn any redder you’ll be the ultimate Weasley,” Ginny giggled. To her it sounded like something Fred would say, but neither he nor George would be returning to Hogwarts this year and someone had to continue picking on Ron.

Ron narrowed his eyes at her before taking a seat in fuming silence, his face bright scarlet.

“I’m going to use the lavatory,” Ginny rose from her seat. She slid her compartment door, peering into the corridor to make sure the snack trolley wasn’t coming through. When all appeared clear, she started making her way to the lavatory. She could hear muffled conversation and laughter from the passing compartments.

Suddenly a door slid open and a figure bumped into it.

“Oompf,” the voice grunted before backing away from her.

“Watch where you’re going, Malfoy,” Ginny frowned at the blonde boy straightening himself out.

“Girl Weasel,” he glared at her, “I just dirtied my robes bumping into the filthy likes of you.”

Ginny whipped out her wand from her pocket. Malfoy did the same, but before he had time to give an incantation, Ginny exclaimed, “Volucris adficio!”

Malfoy’s now steady wand dropped to his feet as winged bats began to explode onto his face. His eyes widened in shock as he covered his face, howling as he ran back into his compartment.

Ginny smirked, stepping over his abandoned wand when someone grabbed her arm.

“Oh ho!” an unfamiliar voice bellowed behind her. It sounded like an adult. Merlin.

She slowly turned around. Ginny had never seen the man before. He was squat and heavyset with a head so bald, it seemed to glow in the incandescent light of the train.

“That was some hex, young lady!” he beamed.

Okay, he’s smiling? Ginny was perplexed.

“Professor Slughorn,” he roughly took her hand, shaking it vigorously. “And who might you be?”

“Ginny Weasley,” she awkwardly returned his handshake.

“A Weasley! I should’ve known! I’m having a little get-together for tea in my compartment down this way,” he titled his head towards the direction Ginny was heading. “You must come; I won’t take no for an answer!”

Ginny realized he was still holding her hand tight.

“Er…,” she tried.

Before she could respond coherently, she suddenly noticed another person peering at her from behind Slughorn.

“Wouldn’t we love to have Miss Weasley join us as well, Mr. Zabini?” Slughorn asked the young man.

He glared daggers at Ginny, his already dark eyes appearing as though pools of black. Ginny kept her face cool. Two Slytherin gits within ten minutes, just my day, she thought.

“Come now, let’s go,” Slughorn ignored Blaise Zabini’s lack of a response and ushered the two of them down the corridor and into his compartment.

The compartment was already filled with students, some Ginny wasn’t familiar with. So there’s Harry, Ginny thought, shrugging at her dark haired friend as he gave her a quizzical look.

And the remainder of the train ride seemed mildly more interesting to Ginny.

“I wonder who’s going to be worse at teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, Umbridge or Snape? I can’t quite decide,” Ron was saying as he poked at his cereal.

It was their first morning back at Hogwarts and the Gryffindors were sulking over the appointment of their new D.A.D.A. professor.

“Well, if he drives us mad we’ll have the D.A. to fall back onto,” Ginny smirked. The Gryffindors within earshot gave her sly grins in return. She looked to Harry for any comment, but he remained silent with the palm of his hand covering his nose as though noxious fumes were threatening to get in. His free hand was thumbing through The Daily Prophet.

“Alright there, Harry?” Ginny asked.

Harry merely nodded. He’d been acting a bit strange since yesterday. She wasn’t sure what had happened, but Harry had walked into the beginning of term feast with dried blood on his face. Although his face looked fine this morning, he appeared to still be self-conscious about it. Ginny knew Ron and Hermione had been informed of what had occurred, but as usual, she’d been left in the dark.

Her relationship with Harry had been awkward since the first time she’d met him. Her girl crush on him had waned considerably, but she still cared for him. She convinced herself it was for a brother, like she did for Ron, and allowed herself to develop feelings for other boys.

She felt sudden warmth at her side as Dean Thomas sat down next to her.

“Morning, Gin,” he smiled warmly at her.

“Morning, Dean,” she smiled back at him, taking in his handsome face.

A loud cough interrupted their moment. The two of them turned to stare at Ron. “Sorry, had something caught in my throat,” he said.

“What class do you have first?” Dean asked her.

“Muggle Studies,” she said.

Dean leaned in closer to her and whispered, “I’m Muggle-born. Do you think you could study me?”

The color rose in Ginny’s cheeks as she was suddenly aware of Ron’s scowl. Harry finally removed his hand from his face and stared at Dean blankly.

The awkward silence was broken when Dennis Creevey tapped Harry on the arm.

“This is for you, Harry,” he reddened, handing Harry a sealed envelope.

“Thanks, Dennis,” Harry said.

“Who’s it from? And why didn’t it come by owl?” Ron asked.

“It’s from Dumbledore,” Hermione said simply.

Ron narrowed his eyes at her. “And how would you know that?”

“It’s got Dumbledore’s seal on it,” Hermione responded, pointing at the red wax seal with a phoenix insignia imprinted on it.

Ginny watched Harry stare at the letter for a moment before pocketing it in his robes.

“Open it, Harry!” Ron urged, staring at Harry’s pocket.

“No, not right now,” he said, his eyes avoiding Dean and Ginny’s direction. Ginny stiffened. Dean was chatting animatedly with Seamus Finnigan next to him and hadn’t noticed a thing.

Well, she certainly didn’t want to be an unwanted presence among the trio. “Dean, I’m going to start heading down to class.” She rose to her feet without looking at her brother and friends.

“Coming,” Dean jumped to his feet, nodding to his housemates before following her out the Great Hall.

Ginny was fuming. She should be used to being excluded by now. Sure, she was their buddy over the summer when they needed an even number for Quidditch or a helping hand to attack a group of Death Eaters. But in school she was invisible. Ron only took notice of her when her boyfriend did.

“All right, love?” Dean asked, taking her hand in his.

Her eyes suddenly glinted mischievously. Maybe her friends didn’t want her, but Dean certainly did. She held onto his hand and swung him into a narrow corridor before pushing him roughly up against the cold, stone wall.

“Glad I asked,” he smirked before her lips met his hungrily.


Her detour in the hallway made her just barely on time to Muggle Studies.

Ginny had always enjoyed this class. The classroom was arranged quite differently from the rest of the rooms in Hogwarts. They didn’t sit at long tables for students to share, but individualized desks. Apparently these were found in Muggle classrooms on a daily basis. Hogwarts students only saw them during examinations.

Each desk came equipped with a pencil case that included Muggle writing instruments and a notebook bound with a piece of wire. At first it had been difficult for Ginny to write with pencils on paper instead of the traditional quill and piece of parchment.

“Good morning, class,” Professor Burbage welcomed them brightly. She was a slender witch with a pointed nose and beady eyes. Her grey hair was lank and lusterless, but she had a certain warmth that glowed from her face.

“I see that we have lost some old students and gained some new.”

Ginny looked around the room. Some of her classmates had opted to drop out of the course to focus on core requirements during their fifth year O.W.L.S. The new students were mostly older than her, having signed up for the course to fill space in their schedule after they’d been dropped from the core courses. Pity to be them, Ginny thought.

Her eyes caught the familiar white blond head of Draco Malfoy. Malfoy? In Muggle Studies? Ginny shuddered.

“For many of you, this is where Muggle Studies becomes serious,” Professor Burbage began.

She heard Malfoy let out a low snicker. Ginny frowned at him.

Professor Burbage didn’t appear to have heard him. “We begin to apply all that we have studied about Muggles. It is not just about memorizing facts, but walking in their shoes.”

“And why on earth would we want to do that?” Malfoy called out rudely.

This time Professor Burbage didn’t let him go. “Mr. Malfoy, I suggest that you allow me to go over something as simple as a course overview without having a sixth year student that was just recently dropped from one of his core classes berating me every minute.”

The class broke into laughter. Someone said cruelly, “What class was it, Malfoy? Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

Malfoy opened his mouth to retort something, but instead clamped his mouth shut. He looked as though he was restraining himself from hexing the entire class into oblivion.

Professor Burbage lifted a hand to signal silence before continuing. “Part of your final examination will be a practical. You will be required to tour a specific Muggle city and as they say, ‘when in Rome, do as the Romans do’. This means – no wands.”

There were quiet groans throughout the room. Malfoy scowled.

Ginny grinned wickedly.

Professor Burbage moved on. “In today’s lesson we will discuss Muggle modes of transportation. Just as witches and wizards use apparition, brooms, and the floo network, Muggles have their own conveniences. Can anyone name a few?”

“Cars?” a peaky Ravenclaw boy answered.

“Yes, cars are generally considered the primary mode of transportation. This enables Muggles to travel short and long distances. We use larger forms of this for public transportation ourselves, such as the Knight Bus and Hogwarts Express.”

“Arrow-play?” a black haired Hufflepuff girl tried.

“Good try, Miss. Summers, but the correct pronunciation is airplane. In some sense, this is very similar to a car, but flies, just as our brooms do. While the car usually carries up to five passengers, the airplane can carry several hundred.”

The students appeared to be impressed by this. Ginny, of course, had heard of airplanes before. Her father had mentioned them on numerous occasions. However, she always found it fascinating how several dozen people could fit into a single compartment and fly without any magical charms placed on it.

“Do the Muggles use airplanes to travel over bodies of water?” Melinda Bobbin asked.

“I’m glad you asked that,” Professor Burbage beamed. “Yes, Muggles use airplanes to cross over large bodies of water. However, if the lake or sea is small enough, they can use something entirely different known as a boat or ship. We’ve seen this before when we welcomed out guests from Durmstrang. They came via a charmed ship. Of course, their ship could travel under water, whereas Muggle ships do not have this luxury. In this case, they use another type of boat known as a submarine that enables them to travel under water.”

Students were attempting to furiously scribble these new words into to Muggle notebooks.

“You will be accustomed to these modes of transportation in due time.” Professor Burbage assured them. For homework, I would like you to give me a five inch length description of how a Muggle car functions.”

Ginny was actually looking forward to the assignment. She knew quite a bit about Muggle cars from the secret one her father had kept until Ron had released it into the Forbidden Forest during Ginny’s first year at Hogwarts. She gathered her things and made her way towards the door.

“Don’t try to enjoy the assignment too much, Weaselette,” Malfoy sneered at, coming into step with her through the doorway.

“And why don’t you try to mind your own business, Ferret Face,” Ginny glared at him, hurrying her pace.

“Figures you’d take this class with your Muggle-loving ways.” Ginny was well ahead of him but she could hear the sneer on his face.

She slowly turned around. “Yeah Malfoy, it’s no wonder why I would take this class, but why are you in here? Did you get a Troll in a class?”

Malfoy’s expression iced over. Ginny knew she’d shut him up and didn’t want to provoke him any further. She shrugged and left Malfoy standing alone in the hallway outside of Muggle Studies.

Later that evening, Ginny sat in the Gryffindor common room with her housemates as they all griped about their homework load on the first day back.

“When does your new Potions book come in, Harry?” Hermione asked Harry, her knees tucked up against her chest, holding up an Ancient Runes book.

“Not sure,” Harry vaguely mumbled as he thumbed through a ratty old Potions textbook.

Hermione eyed him warily before returning her gaze to her own reading.

“This assignment on Muggle cars is actually a bit difficult,” Ginny sighed. “I’ve got most of the essential parts, but I’m not really sure what makes them run.” She looked at Hermione hopefully.

“Sorry, Ginny, I really don’t know a whole lot about cars,” Hermione said apologetically.

“Harry?” Ginny asked.

“Mm?” Harry responded without looking up.

“Cars?” she asked, already knowing he wouldn’t help her much either.

“As if the Dursleys would let me near theirs. They’d run me over before allowing that. Try the library,” he said.

“That’s Hermione’s line,” Ron grinned at Hermione. He was lounging on the opposite end of the sofa Hermione was sitting on. She scowled at him.

Ginny packed her bag, shoving scrolls of parchment and quills into it.

The library would be closing in a bit, so Ginny wasn’t sure how much she’d get accomplished. She found a dimly lit lamp next to an armchair and spread out her research there. She found a book titled Muggle Curiosities: The Automobile and Airplane by Serafina Hopkins. Ginny was about to crack it open when she heard a soft creak followed by shuffling footsteps.

“Anyone there?” Ginny called out.

“Don’t we sound frightened,” Blaise Zabini’s voice laughed bitterly.

“What are you doing sneaking around the library, Zabini? Awfully suspicious, don’t you think?” she rounded on him.

“I hardly think that’s any of your concern,” he lowered his eyes.

“Zabini, what’s keeping you?” Ginny recognized Malfoy’s voice. Was it just her, or were there Slytherins everywhere lately?

Malfoy’s white blond hair caught the dimly lit candlelight by Ginny’s armchair.

“I found some scum, that’s all,” Zabini didn’t look at Ginny as he began to disappear.

Malfoy peered around the corner of a bookshelf before stiffening when he noticed Ginny.

“Can I help you?” she asked bitterly.

“No, but I can help you, that book isn’t worth looking at,” he said simply.

“Why, because it has to do with Muggles?” she was getting annoyed with Malfoy’s incessant anti-Muggle bantering.

“The writer leaves out several essential components of cars and bases most of her research on myth.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him, an amused expression playing on her lips.

Malfoy looked offended. “I don’t have to like a class to do well in one.”

“Clearly,” Ginny mused. “Do you have any suggestions on what book may help me?”

He pulled a single book out of the shelf he was leaning against and tossed it at her.

Ginny stared at the front cover. A History of Magical Nutters by Cato Blasius.

“That should solve all your problems,” he drawled.

Ginny glared at him as he disappeared, a smirk on his face.

Draco collapsed onto an overstuffed armchair in the Slytherin common room.

“What took you so long?” Blaise asked him questioningly.

Draco shrugged, stifling a yawn.

“You were chatting up the Weasely girl,” his friend said, a dark grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I was putting her in her place,” Draco said.

“You know, she’s grown up quite a bit,” Blaise said carefully, studying Draco’s expression.

“Hadn’t noticed and don’t intend to,” Draco said, attempting to sound bored. He had noticed.

“If she wasn’t in that scumbag house and blood traitorous family, I’d have my way with her right here,” Blaise was deliberately trying to get a reaction out of him.

“You’re sick, you know that, Zabini?” Draco scowled at him.

The Weasley girl had actually grown up quite a bit since she first started school. She wasn’t hard to spot usually, what with her disgusting groveling at Potter’s feet. But she’d filled out nicely in four years.

“Where’s Pansy?” Draco asked Blaise.

“Probably in the girls’ dorm crying over her Draco shrine,” Blaise laughed.

Draco rolled his eyes. “She’s not that bad, mate.”

Blaise grinned evilly. “Isn’t she? I just overheard her telling Greengrass about her intentions with you after school.”

He’d been on and off with Pansy since the year before. He knew she liked him more than he did her. He also knew it made all of their parents happy that they were “dating”.

Draco had grown up quite a bit in the past few years. He’d grown accustomed to girls from different houses following him around. Aside from Pansy, he hadn’t really had a “real” relationship with anyone. He tried dating Daphne Greengrass during their fourth year but she was too high maintenance for his taste.

He liked Pansy just fine and he knew it was ordinary for girls to fawn over imaginary weddings at all times, but it still made him queasy to think about the years to come after Hogwarts.

Things would especially be worse for him this year. He’d been dreading returning to school. He hadn’t seen his father in two months since he’d been thrown in Azkaban. Crabbe and Goyle often acted as though this was Draco’s fault, since their fathers had been arrested as well. Sometimes he felt entirely alone with nothing to fall back on except for the Dark Lord’s threats. Those at least promised him something….his life. He didn’t know who his friends were. Blaise was an aloof prat who Draco wasn’t ready to trust even after having shared a dormitory with for five years. And that’s why he needed Pansy around so much. She didn’t judge him like Crabbe and Goyle. She didn’t ask him to buy her ridiculous amounts of sweets and perfume like Daphne.

But a thought had been nagging at him for a long time now. Maybe he just really liked Pansy as a friend.

“Draco! Hurry! Lock the cellar! They’ll be here any moment!” Lucius Malfoy had shoved Draco towards his private apothecary.

“But-“ Draco tried, fumbling desperately for his wand.

“Just do it! There isn’t any time! Where’s Narcissa,” his father asked himself mostly as he walked around aimlessly rearranging miscellaneous ornaments in the manor.

“Lucius!” his mother’s voice rang shrill as she burst through the parlor doors. “They’re here!”

The color seemed to drain from Luicius’ already pale face. “Draco!” he hissed.

“Yes, Father,” Draco hurried to his father, forgetting about the apothecary.

His father placed both hands heavily onto Draco’s shoulders, his gray eyes piercing his son’s. “Listen to me. You must do as the Dark Lord tells you. We owe him everything. I’ll be home soon.”

Narcissa sobbed, “Lucius, please. You’re not going anywhere-“

And suddenly a loud POP! could be heard, followed be three more. Four ministry wizards with solemn expressions on their lined faces had apparated into the Malfoy parlor.

“Oh!” Narcissa cried out, yanking Draco by her side in fear. She began to shudder uncontrollably.

“How dare you enter my home this way,” Lucius snapped at them. Draco recognized one them immediately as a Weasley.

And just as soon as his mother had begun shaking, she stopped. “You are not welcome in here! Leave us be!” she glared daggers at all four men.

The four men seemed unfazed. A squat red faced wizard in purple robes pulled out a rolled piece of parchment. He cleared his throat before reading aloud. “Lucius Abraxas Malfoy you are hereby charged with breaking and entering into Ministry premises without authorization. You are charged with attempting to use forbidden and other related heinous spells against minors. You are charged with withholding suspicious items. You are charged with assisting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as a Death Eater.” He spat out the last two words in disgust.

Lucius stood stoically, staring at the wizards defiantly.

“Father-,” Draco choked.

Lucius flashed him a look as if to quiet him. He allowed the squat wizard to bind his wrists with magical handcuffs. Two other wizards took a hold of either of Lucius’ arms.

“Narcissa,” Lucius said simply. Then he turned to Draco. “Remember.” Draco looked not at his father, but his mother, who try as she might to remain in control, looked like she was breaking inside.

And then in an instant they were gone.

His mother had left the room without a word. It took Draco a moment to register the cries that followed to be those of his mother’s.


Just hold your head up and whatever you do, don’t cry. Draco inched forward, trying to appear calm. The Dark Lord sat at the end of the dark room in a tattered armchair. An overgrown snake slithered around his neck, hissing softly as Draco approached them.

Draco shuddered involuntarily. He wasn’t sure why the Dark Lord had taken residence in an abandoned Muggle home. Nobody else seemed to be in sight. He suddenly wished his mother were with him. You’re so weak! He chided himself for his vulnerability.

“Young Malfoy, come closer,” the Dark Lord ordered. Draco hurried forward, avoiding eye contact with the red pools of light staring down at him from hooded robes.

A spine-chilling laugh erupted from the Dark Lord. “Why do you fear me so, Young Malfoy?”

Draco swallowed hard. “Forgive me, my Lord.” Draco finally stood five feet away from the Dark Lord. He bowed deeply.

“Do you know why I have asked you here?” the Dark Lord asked seriously, the echoes of his laughter having long since disappeared.

“No, my Lord,” Draco said quietly.

There was a pause before the Dark Lord continued. “I have a special task for you.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“I would hope that you will one day join my ranks, Young Malfoy.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“And that means I would require your utmost loyalty. I come before all else.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“This is an honor, Young Malfoy.”

“Yes, my Lord, thank you.”

“Will you do it, Young Malfoy?”
For a moment Draco wasn’t sure what to say. His heart was racing. He had no idea what he was about to promise to the Dark Lord. He hated to imagine what would happen should he not accept.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Very well, Young Malfoy.”

Draco suddenly felt utterly helpless and alone.

Ginny’s dread about the school year didn’t seem to pass as the days went on. Students anxiously waited for owls to bring letters from loved ones during breakfast each morning. Occasionally someone would flee from the Great Hall in tears. Ginny and Ron especially looked out for Pigwidgeon, hoping to hear from their parents or brothers of any news. Some like Hermione thumbed through The Daily Prophet for news on the battle front.

Dark headlines flashed across each paper, each accompanied with a rough, yet well composed Rufus Scrimgeour looking as though he was daring the photographer to challenge him.

Giant Sightings Increase.

Amelia Bones Found Dead.

Azkaban Dementors Out of Ministry Control?

Every day seemed to begin with the same bleak start to it.

Ginny sighed, handing Hermione back her copy of The Daily Prophet after reading a piece on an increase in security at Gringotts Bank. “We’re really walking around broken shards of glass here.”

Her housemates grunted in agreement.

They were halfway through breakfast when Harry walked in late, bags lining his eyes.

“What happened to you, mate?” Seamus asked, knitting his brow together.

Harry looked almost alarmed before simply shrugging, “Late night studying.”

This seemed to satisfy Seamus who proceeded to eat his poached eggs.

Hermione looked pointedly at Harry. He shot her a look of mock confusion before helping himself to cereal.

Ginny wished she wasn’t so observant. She wished she could stop caring about them not caring about her.

Ron broke into her thoughts. “Hey Ginny! It’s Pig!”

“A bit late, isn’t he?” Ginny asked, confused, staring at the tiny owl flapping its wings madly into the Great Hall.

“I’m sure it’s just that he can’t fly quite as fast as the others,” Hermione said.

“What are you saying about my owl?” Ron asked defensively.

Hermione looked taken aback. “Nothing. I’m merely reassuring Ginny that his delay is just incidental.

“And why would it be anything otherwise?” Ron scowled.

Ginny huffed. “Oh bloody hell, Ron. It’s because our family is under the watch of every major wizard in London. Not only are wizards and witches from the Ministry and Order,” she whispered, checking to make sure no one else was listening before continuing, “keeping tabs on us, but the dark ones are as well. What’s to stop anyone from attacking Pig for information? It happened to Hedwig last year.”

Ron looked crestfallen just as Pig swooped onto the Gryffindor table. He snatched the letter from his outstretched foot, completely forgetting to praise the little owl for the long journey. Pig looked offended and hopped towards Harry’s bowl of cereal, hoping for a reward.

Harry, Hermione, and Ginny anxiously looked up at Ron, waiting for him to read the contents of the letter. Ginny caught a glimpse of her mother’s tidy scrawl.

Dearest Ron and Ginny,

We are all doing fine. Hope you aren’t worrying. We look forward to seeing you both, Harry, and Hermione during the holidays.”

With love,
Mum and Dad

“Well that was a pathetic excuse of a letter. You’d think You-Know-Who and Dumbledore were playing a nice game of Quidditch outside. I wish they’d left our post alone at least.” Ron balled up the letter.

Ginny had suddenly lost her appetite and began to poke at her sausages absently. Her gaze wandered across the Great Hall towards the other house tables.

She caught sight of Malfoy who appeared to be playing with his food as well. He had his head resting against a propped up elbow while Pansy Parkinson fawned over him, brushing loose strands of his hair out of his eyes. He didn’t seem to acknowledge her presence.

Malfoy suddenly lift his head and stared at Ginny. His face was expressionless. Ginny could see Pansy ask what looked like, what are you looking at? And before Pansy could look up, Ginny forced her gaze back down at her sausages.

Hermione broke into her thoughts. “So what all are you studying in Muggle Studies right now? I almost wish I was still taking it.”

“Transportation,” Ginny responded.

“Oh, that’s quite fascinating. I’ve heard there’s quite a bit of application of knowledge and group work during fifth year. I think it’s quite appropriate what with OWLs and all.”

“Group work?” Ginny asked. None of her other classes had ever called for such a thing.

“Yes. There’s supposed to be a lot of problem solving involved in the class and Professor Burbage feels that two heads are better than one. So I suggest you keep your fingers crossed she places you in a suitable group.”


During Muggle Studies later in the day Ginny was on her toes for any mention of groups. She knew most of the people in her class since they’d been in it together since third year, but they were mere acquaintances.

Towards the end of her lesson on traffic regulation and road signs, Professor Burbage stopped the class.

“From this point forward this class will be slightly different from your other classes. You will be part of a group for the remainder of the year. You will be assigned problems to solve and tasks to follow through on. This will all help in preparing you for your field work at the end of the term. “

“Are we selecting our own groups?” a Hufflepuff girl asked anxiously.

Professor Burbage shook her head. “I will be assigning groups. Or rather, the Sorting Hat will. I have borrowed it temporarily for use in this class.” There were loud groans to follow.

“All right, if you all are finished complaining, I will begin sorting you into groups.”

The Sorting Hat began to pipe off names, pausing momentarily to indicate a new group.

“Creevey, Colin! Lovegood, Luna! Malfoy, Draco!” the Hat called out. Ginny shot Colin a sympathetic look as the poor boy clamped his hands over the sides of his face in despair.

Malfoy on the other hand looked indifferent as he stared towards the ceiling at nothing in particular.

The Sorting Hat continued with Colin’s group. “Summers, Olivia! Weasley, Ginevra!”

Ginny dropped the quill she was twirling in-between her fingers. She’d be working with Malfoy? There had to be a mistake. This was probably some silly joke.

This time a reaction was seen from Malfoy who stared at the Hat in horror.

Professor Burbage paid no attention to the disgruntled looks of all her students. “Now if you would all convene together with your groups to become acquainted with each other. “

Nobody made an effort to move. Professor Burbage rolled her eyes, flicked her wand, and all the students were thrown from their seats.

Ginny pulled herself up from the ground, rearranging her now tousled hair. She noticed that Colin, Luna, and Olivia were already making their ways towards each other. Ginny followed suit and took a seat around them.

“So,” Olivia began, “are we all here?”

They all knew she was referring to Malfoy, who was casually taking his time walking towards them. When he finally approached them he remained standing, giving them all a brief glance of acknowledgement before busying himself with his prefect’s badge.

“Well, I’m Olivia Summers and I’m in Hufflepuff,” she said as-a-matter-of-factly.

“Colin Creevey from Gryffindor,” Colin gave a slanted smile at the group.

“Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw,” Luna said simply.

“Ginny Weasley from Gryffindor,” Ginny said.

They looked at Malfoy, waiting for him.

“Malfoy, Slytherin,” he said, giving a small yawn.

When Professor Burbage dismissed them, Malfoy was the first to dart out the door. Ginny was fuming. He was going to be a prat the rest of the year. She grabbed her things and followed after him.

“Hey Malfoy!” she shouted after his blond head.

He turned around slowly, draping his school bag over a shoulder as he stared at her blankly.

“I need a word,” she walked towards him, her fists clenched.

“Whatever for, Weaselette?” he drawled unkindly.

“If we’re stuck working together you might as well suck up whatever differences we have. I get that you hate me but I’m not going to do poorly in this class because of you.”

His expression darkened, but an amused smile danced on his lips. “Don’t flatter yourself, Weasley. What makes you think I feel anything towards you? You’re nothing to me. And rest assured, as you witnessed with our essay, I’m doing better than you anyway.”

“We’ll see about that,” she challenged, tightening her fists.

“Are you threatening me?” Malfoy sneered. His amusement infuriated Ginny even more. “Well that’s no good. I think that calls for ten points from Gryffindor.”

Ginny’s mouth dropped open in protest.

“I wouldn’t say anything more unless you want to cost your pathetic house any more points. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a life to live that doesn’t involve people like you.”

Ginny said nothing as he turned on his heel and walked away. When he was about fifteen feet away, she pulled out her wand and whispered, “Prolabor pes!” She watched him trip and land hard on his knees.

He groaned, and before he could rise to his feet and start on her, she tucked her wand away and rearranged her face in mock surprise.

“Weasley! That ought to cost you all your house points!” his normally pallid face was crimson red, his hair disheveled.

“Whatever do you mean, Malfoy? I think you need to watch where you’re going. Never know when you might just trip,” she said slyly. He scowled at her, ran a hand through his hair and stormed off, his robes billowing behind him.

I’ll show her, Draco thought, fuming as he burst through his common room door. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about, what with his father in prison, Snape nagging at him day in and day out, and who could forget the Dark Lord’s foreboding presence at every waking and sleeping moment of his days?

Besides, where did she get off asking him to take the class seriously? Only he knew why he was truly taking the class. But he was second in his year, just barely behind that Mudblood Granger. He made top marks in all his classes. He’d even earned nine OWLS during fifth year.

His mother thought he’d make a brilliant mediwizard. He had contemplated the option many times, but he could never bring himself to work around that many wizards and witches, constantly griping and groaning about different ailments. Malfoys were brought up to be tough and a hospital was no place for people like that.

His father preferred he didn’t work, just as he himself had done. Lucius Malfoy had lived off of the luxuries of the Malfoy wealth without working hard to earn any of the galleons. He did however make quite a few choice investments that ensured ridiculous wealth was a permanent fixture in their family. He had spent much of time flexing his muscle power at Hogwarts, St. Mungo’s, and especially the Ministry itself.

What he truly wanted to do was play Quidditch professionally. Unfortunately, he had no idea where his future lay. There were many things expected of him by his parents, his schoolmates, other Death Eaters, and even the Dark Lord. Draco knew that Quidditch would not fit into the equation. For now he would just take things day by day.

Draco entered his dormitory and slammed the door behind him. He jumped onto his bed, swinging the hangings shut around him. He needed to think, to mull things over and calm down.

Why is a silly little blood traitor girl getting to me? He wondered. It was bad enough that he’d been paired with the know-it-all Summers, Potter worshipping Creevey, and Loony Lovegood. He also had to work with a Weasley. He had to admit her temper was quite amusing. She had a way with magic. His shin was still smarting, but he knew that Pansy, Daphne, nor any of the other Slytherin girls would ever think of performing such a foul move on him.

A soft creak broke into Draco’s thoughts. He slowly lifted himself up and peered out of his bed hangings. He could see Daphne Greengrass tiptoeing out the room, her robes hanging off of her untidily. He next saw Theodore Nott emerge from his bed, next to Draco’s, as he followed Daphne out.

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. He was aware that his dorm mates engaged in sexual excursions with the Slytherin girls, but it always disturbed him nonetheless. His parents had taught him that it was improper to engage in any of the bedroom activities before marriage. They said it made a man less than a gentleman and a woman less than a lady.

Interestingly enough, Draco didn’t parade this information around and thus a certain reputation about him had developed somehow. He was known as a womanizer, a man who’d had his way with several women. This was not so, and Draco never bothered to debunk the rumors.

Draco lept out of his bed, and making sure his dorm was empty; he opened his chest of belongings at the foot of his bed. After some rummaging, he found a neatly wrapped handkerchief sandwiched between neatly pressed shirts. Being sure to keep the contents inside the handkerchief tucked inside, he fingered the object.

He shuddered for a moment, realizing what it was he held in his hands, with only a thin layer of silk separating himself from it.

Borgin leaned across the sales counter, leering at Draco curiously. “What is it you intend to do with this, Young Master Malfoy?”

Draco, who’s hands had been clasped against the edge of the counter to contain his anxiety at seeing the dark object, automatically withdrew them. “I should think that’s none of your concern!” he spat at the balding shopkeeper.

Borgin looked wounded and straightened himself. “Absolutely,” he apologized. Neither gentleman dared to touch the object, resting in a velvet pouch with a simple “B&B” embroidered on the outside.

“And you say it’s foolproof?” Draco asked, trying to sound confidant.

“Of course,” Borgin said simply. “One touch, if only for a moment, and it becomes fatal.” He said the last word with a slight shudder. Draco also noticed a small glint in his eye.

He thanked the shopkeeper and left. The place always gave him chills.

Draco could hear footsteps ascending the stairwell that led to his dormitory. He gave one last look at the silk handkerchief; with the initials LM stitched into it, and carefully laid it back in-between the two shirts. The door swung open when Draco heard the satisfying click of his chest closing.

“Oi, Malfoy,” Blaise called out, flopping down on Draco’s bed as though it was his own.

“Zabini,” Draco responded simply.

“What say you and I stow away and take our brooms out for a fly? “

Draco pondered the idea for a bit. He hadn’t been flying since Merlin knows when. It would be nice to take a go on his broom before Quidditch practice picked up.

“Sure,” Draco said, accepting Blaise’s hand as he helped him off the floor by his chest.

A slight jolt of pain seared through Draco’s arm as Blaise released it. He clutched it, gritting his teeth so as to not cry out in pain.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s nothing,” Draco said, trying to sound as convincing as possible. The pain in his arm didn’t subside and Draco knew that he was calling him. “Hey, you go on ahead, I’ll meet you out on the field.”

Blaise shrugged. He was about to walk out the door when he stopped as though hesitating. He turned to face Draco. “You alright, mate? You’ve been a little off lately.”

“I’m fine, really,” Draco said, struggling to keep his composure.

Even Crabbe and Goyle had been asking him questions about his behavior. It was a problem if people were noticing that something was going on. He didn’t want his housemates asking him questions. They weren’t his friends. They couldn’t help him. He really was alone.

Try as he might, Draco could not capture the attention of the new Potions master at Hogwarts. He was well aware that Slughorn had his favorites, but was astounded as to why he hadn’t been initiated into the “Slug Club”, as the students called it.

In fact, the exclusion insulted him. He came from an upstanding family. People knew him. They knew of his wealth, power, and purebloodedness. Slughorn had to take that into consideration. It was beyond him why Potty and Girl Weasley had made it into the club.

“All right, students!” Professor Slughorn’s loud voice boomed throughout the classroom. Classes had been in session for a few weeks now and it still felt odd receiving the plump, older man as the instructor, instead of Snape.

“Today I have a treat for you all,” the professor beamed, his smile stretching across his red face. “We will be making Amortentia.”

He paused dramatically, expecting gasps of glee in return and when he heard nothing, he furrowed his brow. He opened his mouth to let out what would’ve been a sigh when he noticed Hermione Granger’s excitement.

Slughorn looked at her. “And does anyone know what Amortentia is?”

Granger didn’t waste a second to lift her arm sky high. “Yes, Miss…?”

“Hermione Granger, sir,” Granger beamed. Draco sneered. He’d had to endure five years of the know-it-all, bushy haired show off.

“Ah, Miss Granger! Carry on,” Slughorn looked at her with curious interest.

“Amortentia is a powerful potion that induces,” Granger blushed before carrying on, “love.”

The girls in the room were suddenly all ears, looking at each other with hopeful grins. Two girls even glanced at him nervously. Draco thought he was going to be sick.

“Marvelous!” Slughorn bellowed. “And can you tell me what it smells like?”

To Draco’s further dismay, Granger didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, sir. Amortentia smells different to each wizard and witch, based on their preferences.”

“Well done!” Draco thought Slughorn would burst from sheer happiness. “Fifteen points to Gryffindor!”

My, how things had changed in Potions, Draco thought ruefully. If Snape had been in charge, he would have somehow ended up taking points away from Gryffindor. No matter, he did this in D.A.D.A.

There were a few whistles and cheers from the Gryffindor side. Slughorn added, “While Miss Granger’s explanation is true, do not be mistaken to believe that Amortentia can create true love. This is a dangerous potion that leads to obsession.”

They were given the task to recreate Amortentia. Draco preferred to work alone in potions, seeing as how it was such a meticulous discipline. Sometimes they would be asked to work in pairs, in which case he ended up with Crabbe or Goyle at times. Although Draco had surrounded himself with the two oafs for several years now, he wasn’t fond of working with them when his grades were on the line. Fortunately for him, they hadn’t received enough OWLS to carry onto 6th year Potions.

Draco carefully worked out his potion ingredients. He cast a look across the room to see where his classmates were. Scar Head seemed to be zipping through the potion. When Draco finally stirred his cauldron to find a distinct white, pearly sheen, he knew he was finished. The air suddenly began to smell quite distinct. Draco could make out the scent of freshly minted Galleons, the smell of a Quidditch field, and the sweet fragrance of lilies, possibly from his mother’s garden at the manor.

After class he headed to the Great Hall for lunch. As he passed through the entranceway, he could still smell the Amortentia potion around him. I must’ve spilled some on myself somewhere, he thought, smoothing out his robes. He murmured a spell to cleanse his robes as he took a seat next to Pansy at his house table.

“Draco, I haven’t seen you in so long!” Pansy said, pouting at him.

“I’ve been quite busy with my studies,” he said simply. She looked disappointed, probably expecting him to say more, but he didn’t.

He’d had a talk with Blaise the night before. Blaise had accompanied him while he patrolled the hallways as per his prefect duty when the fellow Slytherin had brought Pansy up. They’d come to the conclusion that he didn’t like Pansy the way she liked him and the he had in fact been wrongly leading her on. He knew he needed to address this with her, but wasn’t sure how to go about it.

Draco let out a sigh. “Pansy, do you think I could speak with you after lunch? In private?” He attempted to look as serious as possible so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Unfortunately, her eyes lit up and she nodded.

He’d lost his appetite and so he patiently waited for Pansy to finish eating, which didn’t take too long because it seemed as though she’d lost her appetite as well. The two of them took a stroll down to the lake. He transfigured a moss covered log into a bench for two.

They both took a seat, quietly looking across the lake for a moment. He could see Pansy anxiously fidgeting from the corner of his eye.

“Are you going to say something because this silence is driving me mad,” she laughed nervously.

Draco shifted his position so that he was facing her. “Pansy, we’ve been friends for a long time now, right?”

“Yes, I would say since we were seven,” she said, knotting her fingers together as she met his gaze.

“Right,” he continued, “I know we have been a bit more than friends for some time and I want you to know that you’re a great person.”

Pansy’s face began to fall slightly. Draco hated how women seemed to know where conversations were always going. If this had been the other way around, Draco would’ve been clueless throughout.

He forced himself to keep going. “I like you a lot, but mostly as a friend. I feel terrible for making it seem as though I wanted more than that. “

Pansy was quiet for a moment before she asked, “Is there another girl?”

Draco almost laughed. “What? No, there is no other girl. It’s me. I don’t love you, and I don’t think you love me either.”

Pansy was now staring across the lake once again. He allowed her time to collect herself for a response.

“No, I don’t love you, Draco. But I really do like you. I hoped that things would’ve changed for the better between us, that it would progress further. You come from a prestigious family, as do I. It should’ve worked.”

“That’s just it. It should’ve worked, but it didn’t. I think we kind of conveniently fell into place together, for everyone else’s sake save our own.”

Pansy opened her mouth to say something, but Draco raised a hand to quiet her. “I’m going through a lot right now, with Father away and the Dark Lord amassing power.” His throat felt dry.

Pansy suddenly had a fire light up in her eyes, as her face hardened. “That’s all the more reason we should stick together! Things are changing, Draco. Not just for you, but for the whole wizarding world. You are destined for great things in the Dark Lord’s company. And you need a woman by your side.”

She took his hand in hers. “Let me be that woman, Draco.”

Draco didn’t like where the conversation was going. It had begun just fine and he wasn’t sure what had changed it. He shook her hand out of his. “Pansy, we’re only sixteen years old. We can’t possibly talk marriage!”

“Why not? My parents married at seventeen, and your mother was the same age when she married Lucius!”

“Why not?” Draco echoed her. “I liked you once, Pansy, I really did. But not anymore. That’s why. I cannot marry someone I don’t have romantic feelings for.” He knew what he’d said was harsh.

She took in a sharp breath, her expression hurt. “I gave you everything.”

“You’re being dramatic,” he said. “We were never entirely serious. You dated other boys as well!”

Pansy looked livid. She rose to her feet, her dark hair blowing across her face in the autumn wind. He didn’t expect the slap across the face, even though he should’ve been prepared for it. And with that she was gone.

He didn’t watch her go, and instead stroked his now reddening cheek. That hadn’t gone the way he’d planned at all.

Draco sat in quiet, watching other students walk around the grounds in the distance. The smell of his mother’s garden engulfed him and he missed home. He couldn’t wait for the winter holidays. Darned that spilled potion. He could’ve sworn he’d cleaned it up.

The crunch of fallen leaves brought him back to reality.

“Oi, Malfoy!” the annoying voice of Ginny Weasley rang in his ears. He didn’t bother to turn his head in response and remained seated.

Soon she stood in front of him, her windswept hair falling across her face, just as Pansy’s had. Why couldn’t women just tie their hair back? He looked up at her with a bored expression on his face.

“What, Weasley?”

She rolled her eyes. “Must you always say my name that way?”

“Of course I do. And it’s not as though you say mine any more graciously,” he sneered at her.

“Where have you been?” she asked impatiently.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m sitting out here.”

Ginny placed a hand on a hip arrogantly. “We were to meet in the library after lunch for our Muggle Studies assignment. Did you forget?”

In truth, he had forgotten. But he wasn’t about to admit that to-

“Look, whatever your excuse is, you can save it. Here’s what we’ve come up with so far.” She threw a rolled piece of parchment at him and was about to take off when he stopped her.

“Wait. When are you lot meeting again?”

“Tomorrow evening after dinner in the library. Should we expect you this time or pass along our notes once again?” she asked unkindly.

“I’ll be there,” he said flatly.

She made as though to take off once again but turned back. “Are you all right? Your face is red.”

“And since when is that of your concern?” he sneered at her.

“Forget I asked,” she spat at him. “Whoever socked you missed.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Had it been me, and I wish it had been, you’d be sitting with at least a black eye.”

Draco glared at her as she turned on her toes and walked away. She was becoming more and more of a nuisance.

The cool night air brushed against Ginny’s face. She was sitting on the cold hard floor of the astronomy tower, her back against the stone balcony. Dean was sitting next to her, his lips brushing her ear.

“Ginny,” he whispered.

“Dean, I’m getting really cold,” she shuddered, trying to keep her senses in control.

“We can take care of that,” she could feel him smile against her throat.

“No really,” she tried, restraining a gasp as his hand slid down her waist, tugging at her robes. “It’s late.”

He took her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers. He was now sitting above her, his knees on either side of her hips. Ginny wanted to back away from his hold on her, but she could feel the stone wall resisting her attempts.

He’s moving too fast. I’m not ready…

“Dean, please,” she tried again. Merlin knew she wanted this, but not right now. Not yet. Not with Dean, a voice cried in the back of her mind.

It took a loud meow to get Dean scrambling off of her. Ginny saw Mrs. Norris facing the two of them, her yellow eyes menacing.

“Filch!” Dean cried, jumping to his feet and pulling Ginny up with him. They immediately began to run inside the campus, Dean tugging Ginny behind him.

“Dean, wait!” Ginny shook her hand loose. “My wand! I must’ve left it on the tower! Filch will know I was there!”

“I’ll get it! You go on ahead!” Dean said, panting. If the possibility of Filch appearing at any moment wasn’t looming over them, Ginny would’ve kissed him, but she had to think rationally.

“No, no,” she said, “It’s my wand; my responsibility. I’ll catch up with you in the common room.” She urged him on ahead and headed back to the tower.

“But,” Dean tried, his handsome face hesitant.

“Just go,” Ginny shot him a look that would make her mother proud. And Dean sped down the hallway.

Ginny darted back to the tower, frantically looking for her wand. It lay exactly where she and Dean had been. She snatched it and hurried out.

The sound of footsteps could be heard towards Ginny’s left. The dim glow of a rapidly growing lantern disturbed the shadows.

“There are students out of bed? Where?” Filch’s voice hissed.

Come on, Ginny! There had to be somewhere she could hide. She took off towards her right, passing dozing portraits along the way. There was no light to guide her and she couldn’t risk lighting her path with her wand.

Suddenly Ginny bumped full force into someone and was thrown off her feet.

“Oompf!” came the reply. It’s Filch! I’m in trouble! Ginny scrambled to her feet. She couldn’t make out the other figure, but whoever it was shoved her into an empty broom closet, and dragged themselves in before clicking the door shut.

Before Ginny could say anything, a voice hissed, “Shh!”

The two of them stood in the darkness of the narrow, damp broom shed. It was quite cramped and Ginny could feel the stranger pressed against her, their chest heaving rapidly. Filch could be heard grumbling past the door. They waited a few moments before the stranger whispered “Lumos!”

The closet was immediately lit with a dull blue light. Ginny found herself facing non other than Draco Malfoy.

“Malfoy?” Ginny cried. “What are you doing here?”

Malfoy’s expression was unreadable. “I’m a prefect, remember? I patrol the hallways. What were you doing out of bed?”

“Well since you’re prefect, why do you care if Filch catches you out of bed?” Ginny raised an eyebrow at him.

“That’s none of your business!” Malfoy’s expression hardened.

“Do you mind getting off of me? I can’t breathe!” she said, shoving him away from her.

Malfoy stumbled away from her and she got a better look at him. For the first time ever, Malfoy looked weak. His face was peaky, he had bags under his eyes, and his usually tidy hair was sticking out in different directions.

“What?” he snapped at her.

“Clearly you were up to something that could warrant consequences,” Ginny said.

“And you weren’t?” he scoffed.

“I suggest we go our separate ways and pretend neither of us saw anything.”

“And why should I do that? I could easily get you into loads of trouble. The moment I throw you to Filch, it wouldn’t matter what else you had to say,” he sneered at her.

Ginny scowled at him. She clutched at her wand. “You-“

But Malfoy beat her to it, shoving her back against the wall of the closet with his wand pressed against her neck. “You’re not the only one that’s quick with a wand.”

Ginny looked him square in the eyes. “I’m not afraid of you, Malfoy.”

“That’s a mistake, Weasley. You should be,” he laughed menacingly. His cold grey eyes were piercing hers. His face was white with anger.

It was customary for Malfoy and the Weasley children to fire insults back and forth, and while mutual enmity was present, nothing was ever too intense. He had a firm grip on her wrists and Ginny had to struggle from wincing in pain. She tried to shake him off but he tightened his hold on her and probed his wand further into her neck. Her heart was pounding so furiously, she was afraid he could hear.

“Oh that’s rich,” she frowned at him, “I should be afraid because you’re low enough to manhandle me in a broom closet.”

He let his wand arm down and tucked his wand away inside his robes. He took both her wrists and pinned them above her head, their faces inches apart. She could still smell the faint trace of cologne from him.

“You know Weasley,” he began, his breath tickling her face. “We’ve been running into each other way too much. You’ve been meddling with things and people out of your Potter-worshipping reach. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were infatuated me.” There was no trace of kindness in his face, but a humorless smile danced on his lips.

Ginny struggled against his hold. His face looked haunted and much too old for a boy his age. “Let go of me.”

“Stay away from me or you’ll regret it,” he said lowly, his blond hair falling into his eyes.

“You needn’t worry about that. What you need to worry about is what’ll happen to you if you don’t let me go!” she raised a knee in-between his legs swiftly. Malfoy’s eyes squeezed shut and he released her, grunting in pain.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you never to touch a lady that way?” she called out as she stepped out of the closet. She ran all the way back to her common room.

When she finally stepped through the portrait hole, after arguing with the slumbering Fat Lady who wanted to offer Ginny a word or two about coming in at a decent hour, she found Dean fast asleep on a couch in front of the fireplace.

“Dean,” Ginny whispered. He stirred a little.

She gave his shoulder a gentle nudge. “Dean, it’s me!”

Dean cracked an eye open and turned to look at her sleepily. “G-Ginny?” He yawned, rubbing his eyes. “Where’ve you been? I was so worried you were in trouble.”

“I’m fine. I had to hide from Filch for a while,” she said. Ginny wasn’t sure why she’d left out her encounter with Malfoy. She knew Dean would blow his lid and insist on hexing Draco Malfoy into oblivion. But Ginny could fight her battles on her own and didn’t want Dean getting involved. “I’m going to go on to bed.”

She helped Dean to his feet. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close. She could feel the warmth of the fireplace against the nape of her neck and she felt a tingling sensation in her toes as he kissed her forehead. She liked Dean. He was good to her. But sometimes she felt as though she had just settled on him, that she was so desperate to feel wanted that she’d allowed Dean into her life. And clearly they were getting to a point in their relationship where he wanted something she wasn’t ready to give.

They parted ways, heading to their respective dormitories.

Draco needed a mug of blackcurrant Mead. His night had been terrible.

He'd spent a great portion of his evening searching for the Room of Requirement. He needed to start working on fixing the Vanishing Cabinet. The Dark Lord was becoming impatient with him. Then his mark began to throb in agony, as it always did when the Dark Lord was furious. He’d hate to be the one who was on the receiving end of the Dark Lord’s wrath that evening.

Draco made his way towards an isolated statue of a one-eyed witch. It was rather creepy looking and didn’t warrant much attention from students and staff alike. But Draco had caught Potter disappearing behind it during their third year and had discovered it to be a route into Hogsmeade. Rather than ratting him out, he’d made use of the connecting tunnel to get into the village in order to clear his head, sometimes to think, and sometimes for a drink. Smooth talking Madam Rosmerta hadn’t been an issue as of late, he thought with a smirk.

He greeted the cool air of the village with welcome. It tickled his face and blew his hair around his head. He rapped on the door of the Three Broomsticks. A few shuffling noises and footsteps could be heard before the door swung open.

Madam Rosmerta stood in a dressing robe. She looked startled. “What-“

But Draco cut her off, flicking his wand from underneath his robes. He had long since mastered nonverbal spells. The woman’s eyes immediately glazed over, and she stepped away, allowing Draco into the pub.

“I’d like a mug of blackcurrant Mead, if you don’t mind,” Draco said, taking a seat on a barstool. He’d first cast the Imperius curse on Madam Rosmerta two weeks earlier. He’d practiced on Crabbe and Goyle a few times, but they’d been willing subjects. He’d been nervous about using the woman, who’d always been kind to Draco. It’s the only way, he thought to himself sadly. And he wasn’t harming her in any way.

Madam Rosmerta sloshed a mug in front of him and stood across the counter from him, staring blankly forward. This made Draco uncomfortable and he shifted his position so as to not look at her.

“I’ll need your assistance again next week,” Draco said, still not looking at her. “Hopefully things will go as planned.” He realized he was talking to himself, but he’d wanted to clear his head, after all.

“Young Malfoy, how is your progress coming along?” the Dark Lord’s high voice rang in ears.

They were standing once again in the abandoned old Muggle house that Draco had come to despise.

“I have a plan, my Lord, it is to be initiated quite soon,” Draco said, trying to control his shaking hands.

“Good,” the Dark Lord said, “I hope that you won’t disappoint me, Young Malfoy. You know what happens when people do. Your father must have told you, I’m sure.”

Draco shuddered. “Yes, my Lord.” The Dark Lord was staring right at him, and Draco had the peculiar feeling that he was doing more than just staring, but actually reading his thoughts. If that was the case, all his efforts to appear remotely calm had been futile, as he was screaming in fear inside.

The Mead calmed his nerves, and soon the task at hand, the Dark Lord, and even the Weaselette seemed like far away concerns.

“Thank you,” Draco said, leaving a few coins on the counter next to his emptied mug. Before walking out, he modified Madam Rosmerta’s memory, gave her orders to return to bed, and lifted the curse.

He returned to the castle. It was now well past two in the morning. The Mead was taking its toll on him and he needed to get to bed.

Draco headed towards the dungeons, listening for any sign of movement within the halls. He passed by the Hogwarts trophy case and paused for a moment. There was a special section reserved for three golden trophies, topped with miniature lions with ruby studded eyes.

For Special Services to the School.

The names engraved read Harry James Potter, Ronald Bilius Weasley, and Hermione Jean Granger. Draco scowled. He remembered these were awarded to the Golden Trio during their first year, something about a wizard’s chess game and flying keys. It sounded bizarre then and it still did.

Then he noticed a fourth trophy that looked quite similar to the other three, except it was topped with a golden serpent with emeralds for eyes. Now that’s more like it, Draco smirked. The name read Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Draco had never heard of the name before. He squinted in the darkness to read the year. 1943. That was before his parents were even born.

A wave of sadness suddenly filled Draco. What will I leave Hogwarts with? An arrest warrant to end up in Azkaban like my father? Would I get the same Wanted posters Sirius Black had?

He yawned and headed towards the dungeons, making sure to quietly get into bed.

His sleep was filled with many dreams. Draco tossed and turned through dark and turbulent images. He saw the red eyes of the Dark Lark taunting him, heard his high-pitched laugh ringing in his ears. He saw his father being escorted away by the Ministry men; his mother’s tear stained face. And then he saw Ginny Weasley, laughing as she beckoned him to her, her red hair flailing around her freckled face.

Draco woke with a start, his body drenched in sweat. He glanced at his watch; it was half past six. The others would be rising soon as well.

His dreams disturbed him. It seemed as though he couldn’t escape the Dark Lord, not even in his sleep. He missed his parents terribly; he hadn’t spoken to them in a long time. But why on earth would the Weaselette come into his dreams? Talk about nightmare, he thought. He’d take on the red piercing eyes over the red hair any day.

Draco’s head slumped back against his pillow as he mopped his brow. He stared at his green bed hangings, willing the time to pass by. He was in no shape to attend classes. He thought about sleeping through breakfast, but he was still shaken up from his dreams.

“Malfoy, you up?” Blaise’s voice rang in his ears.

Draco grunted in response. He hoped Blaise would get the hint and leave him be, but before he knew it, his bed hangings were being pulled open and he felt the weight of his bed sink further in.

“Boy, have you got much to tell.” Blaise laughed.

“What are you on about, Zabini?” Draco groaned, throwing a pillow over his head.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear you coming in past two. And one would’ve thought you had a woman in your bed, what with all the moaning all night long.”

Draco jerked up, the pillow sliding off his face. “What?”

“Was there a lady friend with you here last night?” Blaise’s eyes twinkled mischievously.

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Of course not.”

Good grief, Draco thought. Were his dreams that bad that he had to verbalize his terror? He could only imagine what the rest of his dorm mates thought of him.

Blaise’s expression changed and his eyes narrowed. “Bad dream?”

“Something like that,” Draco muttered.

“Well, you’d better hurry on up. Breakfast will be served soon.” Blaise left the room.

He and Blaise had never been very close. He knew his mother came from a prominent wizarding family, and that his current stepfather was an extremely well-to-do man. He wasn’t sure why Blaise had suddenly taken an interest in him. This was the worst time for him to have friends.

Ginny couldn’t sleep much that night. She awoke early to write a letter to her mum. It took several attempts, as she wanted to be sure that it couldn’t be misinterpreted in any way.

Dear Mum,

Ron and I are doing well. We look forward to coming home for the holidays. There have been talks of a Christmas ball here. Could you send me dress robes? Give our love to Dad.

Love,
Ginny

Ginny had heard from Hermione and Ron that some of the prefects had suggested a Christmas ball to lighten everyone’s moods. There hadn’t been one at Hogwarts since Ginny could remember. There had only been the Yule Ball during her third year.

When she arrived at the Owlery, the owls were hooting loudly. She could see a beautiful eagle owl flying away from Hogwarts. Ginny found Pig sitting in-between two large barn owls. She clipped her letter to his leg.

“Take this to Mum,” she said, ruffling Pig’s feathers. He hooted appreciatively and took off. On her way out she bumped into Harry.

“Oh, Harry!” Ginny exclaimed, blushing.

“Ginny, sorry about that,” Harry said, running a hand through his messy hair. He bent over to pick up some pieces of parchment, one Ginny assumed to be a letter and another she recognized as the Marauder’s Map.

Harry noticed her watching him and quickly stuffed the parchment into a pocket in his robes.

“How’ve you-” Ginny and Harry said together. They laughed.

“I’ve been fine, and you?” Ginny asked.

“Same, you know,” he said. After an awkward pause he asked, “Listen, Ginny, you didn’t happen to see anyone else here, did you?”

Ginny shrugged, “No, I’m afraid I didn’t.” She looked at him curiously. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Just, you know, with the post and all. I wanted to make sure things were safe.”

“Right,” she nodded awkwardly.

“And how’s Dean?” Harry asked, his voice breaking slightly.

“Just fine. I’m sure you’d know that, since you room with him,” she gave a quick laugh.

“Yeah. Well, I guess I’ll just…” he said, taking his letter back out.

“Of course. See you, Harry,” she said, and made her way out.

Harry had been acting awfully paranoid since they’d gotten back to Hogwarts. She’d seen him with the Map on numerous occasions. Ginny suddenly shuddered, realizing that he was capable of knowing where everyone was at any given moment. Maybe that’s why he asked how Dean was, she thought, turning red.

It was still a little too early for breakfast so Ginny decided to run a few laps around the Quidditch field. She headed into the girls’ locker room to change quickly.

As Ginny took a seat on a bench to tie the laces of her trainers, she could hear two girls enter the locker room. They were concealed behind a row of lockers so Ginny couldn’t make out who they were.

“I haven’t decided who I’m going to the ball with,” a high-pitched girl said.

“Have they decided for sure about the ball?” a second girl asked.

“I believe so. That’s what Pansy and Draco have been telling us,” the high-pitched girl said.

Slytherins, Ginny thought, rolling her eyes.

“Did you hear they had a row? They haven’t spoken in days,” laughed the second girl.

Ginny recognized the second voice belonging to Astoria Greengrass, one year below her.

“Blimey,” the other girl gave a low whistle. After a pause she added, “So does that mean Draco is on the market?” Both girls began to giggle.

Ginny felt as though she was going to be sick. She got up and darted out of the locker room before the girls could see her. Girls talked about boys in the locker room all the time. Ginny had even taken part in the conversations sometimes. But hearing the two girls giggling about Draco Malfoy made her want to hurl.

She began jogging along the perimeters of the field, taking in the early morning air in deep breaths. It wasn’t a beautiful day by a long shot, but she still appreciated the outdoors. Her classmates often teased her about “running the Muggle way”. Wizards and witches could use enchantments to place themselves in a simulation, so that they would feel as though they were running along a beach or through a valley. Ginny liked to be surrounded by things that were real. Running around an ordinary Quidditch field enabled her to clear her head whenever she was stressed out.

The field was virtually empty save for a lone figuring flying on a broom. They were weaving in and out of the goal posts.

After twenty minutes her leg began to hurt. Ginny grunted. Curse this injury! She knelt in the grass under the Ravenclaw stands to massage her leg.

It was really beginning to swell. Ginny looked around the Quidditch field helplessly. She had her wand with her, but she hadn’t the faintest idea as to what spell to cast to give herself relief. Okay, just slowly get up, and take it from there, she reassured herself.

The moment Ginny tried to pick herself up, pain seared through her leg. She collapsed back onto the ground. What am I going to do?

Suddenly she could hear the soaring sound a broom above the field, followed by flapping robes. She looked up into the sky and noticed the flier circling the field.

Should I call out for help? I don’t even know who it is.

The flier seemed to take notice of her and their broom began to descend towards her.

It wasn’t until the figure dismounted from their broom that Ginny recognized Draco Malfoy.

Ginny was incredulous. “Are you kidding me? How many times are we going to run into each other before one kills the other?”

“What on Earth are you wearing, Weasley?” Malfoy asked. He was dressed in his Quidditch uniform and Ginny couldn’t help but to catch her breath. He looked repulsively dashing with his windswept hair falling into his flushed face.

“I know I call your family dirty, but sitting in the mud isn’t exactly lady-like,” he said, standing in front of her.

“I’ve had a fall, that’s all,” she winced. “You wouldn’t happen to know a spell for this?” she asked, motioning towards her leg.

Malfoy laughed. “I’ve been trying to get you back for the hexes for a while now. I’d say this is the best opportunity, to leave you stranded here.” He looked towards the gray sky and added, “And right before it rains, too.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed, “Fine, Malfoy. Go on, get lost and leave me be.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, kneeling into the grass with her. “I was only joking. As much as I loathe you, I wouldn’t leave a woman in distress.”

Ginny smirked. “So you do hate me. How I’ve longed to hear those three words come from your mouth.”

Malfoy took a hold of her foot and propped it onto his lap for closer inspection. “What happened?”

She suddenly felt very warm. “I was jogging.”

Malfoy shook his head. “I got that much, Weasley, but this has clearly been a problem for a while. It’s much too sprained.”

“And how would you know?” Ginny asked defensively.

“When will you and your thick friends get it through your heads that I’m not stupid,” he gave out a frustrated sigh. “I’m actually pretty intelligent.”

“Don’t forget modest,” she said sarcastically.

“Do you want me to help, or not?” He looked annoyed.

“I had a bad fall a few months ago,” she said. She wasn’t about to tell this boy inspecting her leg that she’d been blown against a concrete wall from a misfired spell his father had cast.

He stared at her for a moment, as if wondering about the validity of her words. He took out his wand, and while massaging the leg with one hand, he began to murmur an incoherent spell by flicking his wand in short, quick movements.

Her heart was beating rapidly at his intensity. His hand moved up and down her leg. His fingers were warm and gentle. She had the tiniest feeling that he was carrying his hand further up her leg than was necessary. I just had to be wearing shorts.

Ginny suddenly hissed and withdrew her leg sharply. “What spell are you using?” For all she knew, he could be using dark magic. Panic began to rise in her. What if he was actually hurting her? How could she have been so foolish as to trust Malfoy?

Malfoy looked affronted. “I’m not trying to hurt you.” Ginny looked at him for a moment and something told her that he was telling the truth.

“The spell I used is Tumor Medicor. It’ll heal your swollen leg. See,” he gestured towards her leg. He was right; the swelling had disappeared. “But there seems to be some adverse magical affects to it as well. You should get it checked out.”

“Wow,” she said, surprised. “I don’t know what to-“

“Don’t,” he said. He looked angry.

“Dra-..Malfoy…I…thanks?” she asked, puzzled by his interjection.

“We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I don’t need your thanks,” he said simply. He rose to his feet and started to head towards his still levitating broom.

“What?” she cried, jumping to her feet. “You did something nice for me; I’m just being nice in return.”

He turned to look at her. “Nice? I hardly call questioning my intelligence and intentions to be nice.”

She raked a hand through her now wild hair, as the wind had picked up and she could feel scattered raindrops on her face. “What do you expect? You’re constantly berating me, my family, and my friends! You basically threatened me in the broom closet last night! I think I had good reason to believe you’d kill me!”

“You’re mad,” Malfoy scoffed as he swung a leg over his broom.

“And you’re a right awful git,” she cried after him as his broom took off. It was now raining and she found herself drenched.

Ginny watched him disappear, probably heading back towards Hogwarts. She jogged back to the locker room, shivering. The nerve of him, she thought furiously, slamming a fist into a locker.

It wasn’t until then she realized it wouldn’t be long before she’d have to see him again – they were meeting for their Muggle Studies assignment in the evening.

When Draco arrived back at the castle he was soaked. But he couldn’t care less. He clambered up a set of stairs, his fists balled at his sides. He’d had enough. Draco wasn’t sure exactly what it was he was fed up with, but for now, it appeared to be everything.

Why me? It seemed as though his world was crashing down, and he was only sixteen. He hadn’t spoken to his father in months. His mother didn’t want to speak to anybody, not even him. The Dark Lord was pressuring him to complete the task, something he was having a difficult time accomplishing.

Draco had to choke back a sob as he thought about what lay ahead of him. He couldn’t do it. It was too hard. He didn’t have the strength to do what the Dark Lord was asking him to do. He didn’t want to be branded like cattle, frantically answering each painful call he received. Draco wanted to call the whole thing off. He wanted to tell the Dark Lord that he was too weak, and that he’d have to find someone else to do this.

But he couldn’t do that either. Oh no, that was definitely not an option. He shuddered violently, envisioning the piercing red eyes. He could hear the high-pitched laugh. He already knew how the Dark Lord would respond. And it wouldn’t end very nicely for him or his parents.

Draco wasn’t sure where he was walking to, but he was sure he looked like a sight for sore eyes. He absently waved his wand around him, drying his robes.

He slumped against a wall, sandwiched in-between a painting of two unicorns and a knight’s suit of armor.

What am I going to do? His eyes began to sting and he shamefully realized that these were tears, threatening to make his despair all the more real.

He heard footsteps approaching down the hall. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this. No, they couldn’t see the great Draco Malfoy in such a pitiful state.

Next to the suit of armor was a doorway into what Draco believed to be a rarely used girls’ lavatory. As the footsteps grew louder, Draco swung the door open and slammed it shut behind him, leaning against it as his chest heaved rapidly.

“A boy in the girls’ bathroom!” a squeaky voice cried out.

Merlin, Draco thought, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s a girl in here!

He felt something cold move by him and he cracked an eye open to see what was in front of him. Draco nearly jumped out of his skin as he realized it was a ghost.

“Moaning Myrtle.” he sighed in relief. “I nearly forgot you live in here.”

The transparent girl pouted as she sat atop a bathroom stall door. “That’s not uncommon.”

Draco slid towards the ground, still shaking from his emotional turmoil.

“You know,” Myrtle said, a wicked grin playing on her lips. “You’re rather cute. Why haven’t you come by before?”

“Possibly because I’m a boy,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. And then he could feel a lump rising in his throat. He could feel his face flushing as his breathing became quick and shallow.

“I’m a boy,” he said shakily.

Myrtle scoffed, “I can see that! You don’t have to be rude. I was only-”

“I’m just a boy,” he whispered to himself. He was gasping for air now. And Draco couldn’t keep the unshed tears in anymore. He covered his face with his hands and cried. “I’m just a boy. I can’t do this. I can’t.”

“There, there,” Myrtle said soothingly. She was hovering above him with deep interest. “Tell me what’s wrong. I won’t tell a soul. There isn’t anyone to tell anyway.”

“You wouldn’t underst-st-stand,” Draco hiccupped into his hands, his speech coming out slurred and nearly incoherent.

“I can try,” she cooed, leaning in closer towards him. He dried his eyes with his Quidditch robes and sniffled.

“I have to do something I’m not ready for,” he said, almost lifelessly. He wasn’t looking at Myrtle, but at the odd looking faucets in the center of the bathroom.

“Who says you have to do anything?” she asked.

Draco laughed humorlessly. “And that is the million Galleon question.”

Myrtle looked puzzled and began to float around the bathroom in thought.

“My life isn’t like others. I don’t have a whole lot of choices,” he said sadly, the words bringing him near to tears again.

Myrtle turned to give him a small smile. “I can relate to you there.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before Draco asked, “Say, what happened to you anyway?” And she told him.

Draco left the bathroom an hour later feeling better. By no means had his problems been solved, nor his inner demons tamed, but he was at ease…temporarily.

He contemplated over skiving off Potions, but decided against it. Draco was worried that people were suspicious about his behavior of late. Potty was constantly eyeing him, with that horrendous scar peering out from that untidy jungle he called hair.

The class went by in a blur. Draco went through the motions of the class without paying much attention to their lesson over remedies for poisons. What did it matter anyway, he thought. Those bloody Gryffindors always left with a few dozen more house points than they’d entered the class with. All thanks to the Mudblood and Scarhead.

As much as he’d hate to admit it, Draco was intrigued by Potter’s sudden success in class. Perhaps he’d been caving under Snape’s daunting presence for the last five years. But Potter had always been disgustingly peculiar…

When Slughorn dismissed them, Draco was ready to skip lunch and close himself in his dormitory for a while. As he gathered his belongings, he overheard Granger and Weasley talking.

“Where are the prefects meeting?” Weasley asked.

“Professor Snape’s classroom,” Granger replied, shuddering slightly.

“That’s bloody fantastic.” Weasley rolled his eyes. The two of them filed out of the room with the rest of the students.

The prefects’ meeting. He’d nearly forgotten. With a sigh, he headed towards Snape’s DADA room. It was customary for a Head of House to be present at a prefect meeting. Draco knew Snape loathed presiding over these petty meetings, but the responsibility was rotated amongst all four of them.

As he turned a corner leading towards the classroom, he could hear Snape berating Weasley and Granger for coming in late.

“It appears as though our Gryffindor prefects believe they are above common courtesy,” Snape hissed.

Draco smirked as he quietly snuck in behind Weasley and took a seat next to the Ravenclaw prefect, Anthony Goldstein. Pansy, who was sitting on the other side of the room, didn’t even glance his way.

“I don’t have all day,” Snape sneered at the still standing Weasley and Granger. “Take a seat.”

Weasley’s mouth dropped open at Snape’s complete disregard to Draco’s tardiness.

Snape stood in front of the students, eyeing them all suspiciously. “Well, you all have several imperative matters to discuss. Carry on and leave me be.” He turned on his heel and took a seat behind his desk, ruffling through papers without another word.

The room was still for a moment before Ernie Macmillan rose to his feet. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Padma Patil.

“Have they um…appointed another…” She broke off her sentence, unsure how to finish.

The prefects stared around the room. Draco remembered that the Hufflepuff girl wasn’t with them anymore. She’d suddenly left earlier this week due to her mother’s mysterious death. Draco shuddered involuntarily.

Ernie’s face whitened, but he quickly regained composure. “We’re not entirely sure what the situation is like. But I’m sure the school will find a replacement in due time, if needed.”

There was an awkward pause for a moment. Ernie continued on, “Right, so we’re here to discuss the Christmas ball we’ve been advised to put together. Any suggestions?”

“What do we need suggestions for?” Pansy asked. “It’s a Christmas ball. We have a tree, some ornaments, and apple cider.”

Ernie was unfazed. “Right, but one would think we’d need a tad bit more than that. Is there a specific theme we’d like to go with?”

Draco wanted to slam his head against the tabletop in front of him repeatedly.

“Winter Wonderland?” Granger suggested. “We could have it snow indoors…”

“So we can freeze our arses off?” Pansy interrupted.

Padma stood up. “Just because you’d freeze dressed like a tart doesn’t mean-“

Pansy had turned bright red and Draco had to suppress a laugh. She opened her mouth for a retort, but Anthony suddenly stood up.

“Enough. Look, we’re here to plan a ball for the students at Hogwarts to alleviate any tensions going on out there. How is what we’re doing supposed to make a difference if we’re quarreling amongst ourselves?”

Draco looked up at Snape, who seemed to be deaf at the moment. As if reading his mind, Snape looked up from his papers to look at Draco. The two stared at each other for a moment before Snape gave him the slightest of nods and went back to his work.

Ernie brought the group back towards their discussion. “We could have artificial snow.”

There were some nods of approval. Pansy was sitting with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her mouth turned into a pout.

Granger smiled. “Why don’t we have a contest for the Beau and Belle of the Ball?”

Padma’s face lit up. “Oooh, I like that! It’ll liven things up.”

After a grueling hour of working out meticulous details, the meeting was adjourned. Once again, Draco thought about retreating to his dormitory, but was stopped by Snape.

“Draco, may I see you for a moment?”

Draco shrugged and hung back as the prefects disappeared from the room. Snape strode towards him and took a seat on a tabletop, his white palms bracing the edge of the table.

Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

“How are things going?” Snape asked.

Snape was clever at many things. He was an eloquent speaker, was distinguished at potion making, and what affected Draco greatly– Snape was one of the Dark Lord’s most trusted servants. Unfortunately for Draco, Snape’s trustworthiness meant that he was a shield in front of others. The man was always in control of his emotions and composure, only letting his guard down to express his contempt for Potter, which Draco was okay with.

“Fine,” Draco said simply.

Snape looked slightly impatient. “Do not lie to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” Draco almost laughed out loud. That I’m a big baby who cries his eyes out in a girls’ lavatory?

“I know it must be difficult for you, Draco,” Snape said. There was a slight twinge of concern in his voice. “I’m here to help you in any way.”

Draco’s eyes darkened and he clenched his fists. “I don’t need any help. I’m not a child. I’m perfectly capable of doing a simple task.” What am I saying? I’m a helpless kid!

Snape looked at him sadly. “You and I both know this is no simple task.”

Draco rose to his feet, collecting his things. “Well, when I decide I need your help, I’ll ask you for it. In the mean time, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t draw any attention to me.”

“Of course,” Snape said apologetically. He rose to his feet and watched Draco leave the room in a hurry.

Draco wasn’t sure why he was running. He ran down the hallway, ignoring the cries of the portraits as they called out after him to slow down. He continued to run blindly until his shoulder ached from lugging his schoolbag.

“I need to disappear,” Draco said to himself. He let his bag fall to the ground with a thud. He bent over, hands on knees as he tried to catch his breath. His hair was disheveled, his robes wrinkled. But he didn’t care.

Draco paced the vaguely familiar corridor, raking his hands through his hair. I need to hide. I need to get away from here. From everyone.

The small sound of a door clinking open stopped him in his tracks. He stared around him. There was nothing in sight, save for a hideous painting of trolls in tutus. And then he saw it. A door was materializing right before his eyes. Draco caught his breath. What in Merlin’s –

Cautiously, he threw his schoolbag over his shoulder and took a hold of the brass knob on the new door. His fingers were tingling in anticipation. Taking a deep breath, Draco opened the door and stepped inside.

Ginny couldn’t stop staring at her right ankle. She kept stretching it out and turning it in every direction.

“I know you have great legs.” Dean smiled at her. “You don’t need to tease me.”

They were sitting outside by the lake. Dean was leaning against a tree, a book propped up against his knees. The sun was setting and the night air was beginning to chill Ginny. She wrapped her Gryffindor scarf tightly around her head.

“I went for a jog this morning. I think I worked out my muscles good,” she said. Ginny noticed Dean’s smile beginning to falter so she quickly flashed him one in return. She moved towards him, leaning against his legs and tilting her head back so she could look at him. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

She needed to break up with him. The realization made Ginny very sad.

You still have a thing for Harry, a voice in her head nagged at her.

I do not.

“Let’s go in,” she said, staring up at the night sky. “It’s really cold.”

Dean helped her to her feet and took her gloved hand in his as they walked back towards the castle.

“What do you want to do in Hogsmeade this weekend?” Dean asked her, swinging their arms together.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said.

“I guess we’ll see when we get there,” he said. After a pause he added, “Are you okay? You’ve been a bit off lately.”

She turned to look at him, feigning confusion. “I’m fine.” Can he tell I’m not that into him anymore?

They headed towards the Great Hall where dinner was about to be served. On their way in they passed Harry. Ginny stiffened and Dean wrapped an arm around her waist protectively.

Harry stared at Dean’s hand for a fraction of a second before giving the two of them a quick nod. “Hey, Ginny. Dean.”

“Hi, Harry,” Ginny said. She’d barely managed to finish greeting him before he’d disappeared.

“You don’t need to do that, you know.” Ginny sighed, shaking Dean’s arm off of her.

Dean frowned slightly. “Do what?”

She rolled her eyes and took a seat next to Colin at the Gryffindor table. Dean had become possessive of her lately, especially when it came to Harry. He always found a way to join in conversations she had with other boys. He liked to take her hand, hug her, or simply touch her in some way whenever another boy so much as looked at her. It was quite frustrating.

I’m not his, she thought sullenly.

But you are his girlfriend, the nagging voice had returned.

“Twenty-five sickles Malfoy’s a no-show again,” Colin said, helping himself to potatoes.

Ginny was still thinking about Dean. “What?” she asked absently, staring at her empty plate.

“Our Muggle Studies assignment,” Colin explained.

Ginny groaned. “Fantastic. That’s just what I needed.” She tugged at her pigtails as Dean took a seat further down the table next to Seamus. He shot her furtive glances. She ignored them.

“You’re going to have to do something with that empty plate of yours.” Colin said. “Or I’ll fill it for you.”

“I’m not very hungry, actually,” she said quietly.

“You all right?” Colin asked.

“Sure,” she said, still staring at the empty plate. She sighed. Dean shouldn’t be getting to her like this.

You’re going to break up with him soon anyway, the voice added.

And it’s just Dean, she thought. It’s not like it’s-

Harry? the voice asked.

No! Damn you, bloody conscience! Ginny rose to her feet.

“I’ll meet you in the library,” she said to Colin. She could see Dean stare at her from the corner of her eyes, but she didn’t dare look at him. She strode out of the Great Hall with her chin raised.

She continued to mentally argue with her conscious down to the library. Ginny knew her doubts about Dean had little to do with his jealousy. He was a good guy. In fact, he was so good to her, she couldn’t believe it sometimes. Before Dean she’d felt a void inside of her that ached every part of her body. And he’d filled it for her.

Dean had been there when Ron, Hermione, and Harry hadn’t. When Dean would smile and take her into his arms, she felt wanted, needed. He’d treated her so well. But that was the problem.

Ginny didn’t want to be with someone so good and so whole when she was so...flawed. She’d easily given people the impression she was Little Ginny Weasley, the youngest of the red-haired clan. But she was tainted, at least she felt like she was.

Her experience during her first year at Hogwarts had left her feeling damaged, impure, and dare she think it, evil. With every door Dean held open for her, with every gentle kiss he placed on her hand, with every twinkle-eyed smile he gave her, she felt her heart break. She didn’t want this. He didn’t deserve this.

If she was so broken, she needed someone equally in need of repair. And that’s why she’d been drawn to Harry initially. He’d had a terrible life and had gone through at sixteen what it took most people a lifetime to experience. And yet, He’d had awful things happen to him. He knew even more awful things awaited him. But he wasn’t broken.

I should’ve been in Slytherin, she thought ruefully.

Merlin only knew she tried so hard to compensate for her weakness. She wanted to be there for her family, for the Order, and for Harry. But it didn’t do her any good if no one gave her a chance to prove her worth.

She’d witnessed everyone consoling Harry last year when You-Know-Who’s thoughts were affecting his dreams. Harry had begun to believe he was evil. Sirius, Remus, her parents, and Dumbledore had all jumped at the opportunity to reassure him that he was in fact good.

But no one had done this with Ginny, and she’d only been eleven when You-Know-Who had possessed her.

Her head was beginning to ache. There were hardly any people in the hallways. Occasionally a ghost drifted by her as she made her way to the library. Peeves tried to lift up her robes, but she aimed a nasty stinging hex at him that sent him away cursing.

There were already banners advertising the upcoming ball hung up on the school grounds.

Who will I go with? Dean?

She hoped her mother would respond to her letter soon. At least she’d have dress robes in need of repair.

Once in the library Ginny found a secluded armchair. She collapsed into it ungracefully. A short nap sounded good to her. She’d need all the rest she could get since her group would be pulling another all-nighter if Malfoy didn’t show up. Right before sleep took over her, she could make out the presence of someone hunched over a reading table about twenty feet away from her, the dim light of a charmed lantern hovering above them cast a green-grey shadow over their crown and shadows concealed their face.

****

Draco was feeling really good about himself. He hadn’t thought it was possible, what with his mental breakdown in the girls’ loo earlier, but his earlier discovery had been an uplifting experience.

This could actually work, he thought, allowing a small smile to form on his face.

After rummaging through the Room of Requirement for some time, Draco had decided that this was the place for his plan. Well, it’s not really a solid plan yet, he reminded himself.

He would’ve loved to have sifted through all the abandoned treasures in the Room, but his meeting with his Muggle Studies group was approaching. And Merlin knew he needed to perform at least fairly decently in the class if he didn’t want to attract unwarranted attention. The students were already questioning why he was in the class to begin with.

He found it insulting that they were all under the impression he’d failed a class and had been forced to take this one. But he knew otherwise. The only other person in on this was Snape.

Draco arrived at the library early and opened his Muggle Studies textbook. The library was lit poorly so he transfigured a candle into a lantern and charmed it to float above his head. They were to give a presentation over the use of Muggle weapons. He’d been oddly fascinated by the subject.

Where wizards cast varying offensive and defensive spells, Muggles had devised incredible machines for the same purpose. He knew Muggles had once used sharp blades known as swords and had gradually moved onto metal devices loaded with explosives, known as guns.

His reading had lead him to the development of Muggle war machinery in the World Wars. While the Wizarding world had few battles to discuss, Muggles had a whole history of them. Draco found it interesting how violent Muggles were.

He poured through the pages of his textbook, reading about canons, tanks, helicopters, fighter jets, and submarines.

World War I saw the use of Muggle war machinery on land, in air, on water, and under water. While the game of warfare began to change during World War I, World War II devastated Europe with the immense number of human casualties as well as the destruction of land. Roughly 72 million people died as a result of the war.

World War II began with the rise of the Nazi party and Adolf Hitler in Nuremberg, Germany. Under Hitler, Germany was able to invade and defeat different parts of Europe. The Nazi party, in collaboration with its European neighbors, was able to push forth the purging of a religious group known as Jews, as well as other minorities that included some witches and wizards. This movement is known as the Holocaust, where several thousand people were persecuted and killed. It was the Nazi party’s goal to purify and create a perfect German race. There is some speculation regarding Adolf Hitler’s own “blood purity”, as he may have had a Jewish ancestor.

The war finally came to an end in 1945 after Hitler committed suicide and the German forces surrendered.

Draco stopped reading. 72 million people. He was dumbfounded. These Muggles were ridiculous. If they were capable of this much damage with their mere machines, the Gods only knew what would happen if they had access to magic. The fact that witches and wizards had been killed as well disturbed him.

He furrowed his brow in thought. 1945 sounded awfully familiar. He recalled the trophy he’d seen earlier, where a wizard from Slytherin had received an award in 1943. But something had happened in 1945 for sure.

Then it dawned on him – that was when Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald and sent him to his own prison, Nurmengard. I guess the Wizarding world was going through its own issues at the time.

Draco read the last sentence once more. There is some speculation regarding Adolf Hitler’s own “blood purity”. Blood purity? Everything Draco had just read was oddly unsettling, but the statement about blood purity made him clam up.

His hands began to shake as he refused to tear his eyes away from those two words. Isn’t that exactly what the Dark Lord is trying to do? Purify the Wizarding race…

He wasn’t sure why, but he had to know more about this Adolf Hitler. Unfortunately, his Muggle Studies book offered no more information on the man; as it went on to discuss the use of atomic bombs in Japan.

He thought about searching through the library, but his group members had begun to arrive.

“Malfoy,” Olivia Summers called out, taking a seat across from him. “Glad you could join us this time.” He gave a slight nod of acknowledgement in response. Colin took a seat next to him. He expected Luna to take a seat as well, but she had wandered a few feet away to shake Ginny Weasley awake.

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. He hadn’t even noticed her slumped over a nearby armchair the whole time he’d been in the library. The two girls joined them and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Ginny’s now wrinkled robes and her tangled braids. She seemed to be embarrassed about her appearance.

“Have we decided what Muggle weapon we’re going to give our presentation over?” Colin asked, taking out his notes.

“If you lot haven’t made a decision yet, I suggest we cover nuclear bombs,” Draco said.

Whatever sleep that had been left on Ginny’s face was suddenly gone. She looked troubled. “Do you realize what those bombs have done to people?”

Draco was irritated. He leaned forward in his seat a bit. “In case you’re unaware, Weasley, we’re not doing a presentation over the most harmless weapon, it’s simply a weapon.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m aware of what the assignment calls for, Malfoy, but I cannot go through the research for something as awful as that.”

“What does everyone else think?” Draco asked, reclining back into his seat.

The other three were quiet for a moment. Draco smirked to himself, realizing that they would be afraid of irking him in any way.

Olivia stared down at her lap. “I think nuclear bombs are an interesting concept.” When she noticed Ginny’s dropped jaw, she quickly added, “Terrible, nonetheless.”

“Nuclear bombs are fine with me,” Luna said. Although she had just let her friend down, the peculiar girl said this with utmost confidence.

Ginny stared at Colin, who was now turning a shade of red that was rivaling the color of his friend’s hair. “I don’t have a preference,” he said quietly.

“Okay, it’s settled. We’re doing nuclear bombs.” Draco said this while staring at Ginny, his hands clasped together in his lap.

He could tell it was taking the girl a great effort to mask her fury. She said nothing and shrugged.

After an hour the group decided to wrap things up. They’d accomplished quite a bit. Draco decided to hang back for a while to see if he could read more on Hitler.

The two Gryffindors were the last to leave and Draco could’ve sworn he’d heard Ginny mumble to Colin, “Of course he’d pick something so atrocious. We know who he’s in league with.”

Draco was exhausted as he crept out of the Room of Requirement. He’d been tinkering with the broken Vanishing Cabinet for hours. He’d used spell after spell and had produced no results.

He mopped his brow with a handkerchief as he dragged his feet towards the dungeons. Crabbe and Goyle had asked if they could help him tonight, but he’d turned them away. It had to be nearly midnight by now. He had Transfiguration right after breakfast the next day.

Draco muttered his House password and slid through the entrance quietly. The common room was predictably empty. There was still a small fire going, indicating that there had been students present not too long before. He was about to retreat to his dormitory when he changed his mind.

Taking his schoolbag with him, Draco found a cozy armchair by the fire. He pulled out a book he’d taken from the library, The Muggle Races, by Anton Dragomir.

He flipped through the pages until he found the section he was looking for.

Anti-Semitism, or hostility towards Jews (see Chapter 8 for more information on this), has existed in Muggle history since the rise of Christianity (see Chapter 9 for more information on this) as the dominant belief system in Europe.

As German leader Adolf Hitler began to amass power in Germany, he feared the rise of the United States and aimed to unite Europe against this potential enemy. At the same time, he feared Russian Communism (see Chapter 11 for more information on this). Hitler used fear and propaganda to develop his ideas of blood purity and racial ideology.

Most German Muggles were quite unaware of the nature of Hitler’s grand plan, as the idea of a unified Europe enticed them. Nazism, the name given to Hitler’s policies during the time period, was very appealing to the ordinary German. Hitler began to strengthen his hold on the curriculum and teachers in school, which very subtly implemented Nazi ideas into the minds of young people-

A soft creak interrupted Draco’s reading. He jerked his head up to see Crabbe approaching him in his nightclothes.

Draco jumped in his chair a little. “Merlin, Crabbe! You could’ve said something.”

“Sorry. Wanted to see how the thing in the Room went.”

Draco eyed Crabbe suspiciously. Crabbe and Goyle knew that Draco was doing something important in the Room of Requirement, but they certainly didn’t know what. He’d been appreciative of their help in keeping watch outside of the Room during the day, but he didn’t trust the two of them to inform them what the plan was this early on.

“Not great, but I’ll just try again, as always,” Draco said, his voice ending in a whisper.

Crabbe shrugged. “You know, my father’s been telling me-“

“Crabbe, I’m trying to do some reading here, if you don’t mind,” Draco said coldly, returning his gaze back to his book.

He missed Crabbe’s furrowed brow and scowl as he clambered back up the stairs towards their dormitory.

He tried to read on, but his heavy eyelids were begging for sleep. Draco studied a picture of Nazi officers waving a red flag with a peculiar symbol on it before slamming the book shut and following after Crabbe, his head swimming with thoughts on Hitler and Germany.

Draco awoke the next morning feeling groggy. He’d had a series of dreams, one where Death Eaters flew into Hogwarts on brooms, each waving the same red flag Draco had seen a picture of. He shuddered.

“How’d your Transfiguration essay go, mate?” Blaise asked him, as he tied his shoelaces together.

Draco groaned as he raked a hand through his hair. “Curses, I forgot about the bloody thing.”

Blaise glanced at his watch. “You could always skip breakfast and work on it.”

Draco’s stomach took this opportunity to growl impolitely. “I don’t think that’s going to work out well. One missed essay can’t kill me.”

He and Blaise made their way to the Great Hall and found seats at the Slytherin table. Draco was halfway through buttering a croissant when he could feel a pair of eyes staring at him. He looked down his table and noticed a young blonde haired girl peering at him over a copy of The Daily Prophet. When she noticed him looking her way, he expected her to quickly avert her gaze in embarrassment. But the girl was bold enough to blink her long-lashed eyes and give him a ghost of a smile before turning to engage her friend in casual conversation.

“Daphne’s sister,” Blaise told him.

“What?” Draco scowled at him. He didn’t like Blaise observing him so carefully.

“The girl with the paper who’s been ogling you all breakfast. Her name’s Astoria.”

“Okay,” Draco said indifferently, continuing to butter his croissant.

“I’m taking Tracey to the Ball,” Blaise said.

“Good for you.”

“Well?”

Draco sighed. “Well what?”

“What about you?”

“That’s the last thing on my mind right now.”

“Make amends with Pansy and take her.”

Draco laughed humorlessly. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“What about your lovely new friend, Girl Weasley?” Blaise smirked at him.

“I’d very much like to keep my breakfast this morning, Blaise.”

Blaise laughed and this time Draco joined him genuinely.

”Will you help us put together an after party in Slytherin?” Blaise had a look of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Draco smirked. “Sure.” He had so much going on in his life right now; he was thirsting after outlets to behave like a real teenager.

When Draco arrived at Transfiguration, he found that McGonagall wasn’t going to let him go with a missed assignment. She was not only going to make him write an essay twice as long as the other students, he was to do this while serving a detention during the upcoming trip to Hogsmeade.

This was upsetting to Draco, not because of the detention itself, but because he was to go forth with the Dark Lord’s plan that day. He’d been sweating bullets over the package from Borgin and Burke’s for so long now. He needed to get rid of it.

He left his Transfiguration class with the pretense of fuming, when he was actually shaking in the knees. None of his Slytherin classmates dared to follow after him. Sure, he was angry with McGonagall for punishing him so severely, but he was afraid. What if it doesn’t work? How will I do it then?

Draco loosened his tie so he could breathe. He was suddenly feeling very warm.

I need to think.

There were Hogwarts students swarming the hallways. It made him feel claustrophobic. Their shining, smiling faces made him sick. The resonating sound of laughter made his head spin. In his misery, he docked twenty points from a third year Hufflepuff student just for being in his way.

They’re everywhere. Where do I go?

And Draco headed towards the only place he could think of to find refuge - Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

__________________

Ginny was trying hard to concentrate on the pages in front of her as she sat in the school library. She’d try to convince her Muggle Studies group to work on presenting another weapon, but Malfoy hadn’t let up on the atomic bomb.

She hadn’t wanted to mention anything to her group mates, seeing as she barely knew most of them, but there had been a reason for her reservations on the subject.

Ginny’s great-uncle, Ignatius Prewett, had died during a German bombing raid in Britain during the Second Great Muggle War. Her father had explained the nature of Muggle warfare to her and it always moved her to tears to hear how horrid people could be to each other in order to justify their leaders’ gains.

Her mother had been just a little girl when Ignatius had died, but she had named her third son in his memory. When the first war against You-Know-Who had come about, the Death Eaters expected Ginny’s parents to join, given their blood purity and the fact that Molly had lost a relative to Muggle atrocities. The two Weasleys had sent them packing.

Ginny slammed the book she was reading shut. She stretched her feet out and drummed her fingers along the tabletop.

She noticed Draco Malfoy enter the library. He glanced around shiftily before making his way towards a bookshelf. He disappeared. She gazed intently towards the direction he’d walked and waited for him to retreat. After a few moments he emerged, clutching two books. His tie was undone, hanging loose around his neck. He walked by her table without even glancing at her.

Well that’s just fine, she thought.

It was getting late so Ginny decided she should probably leave. She rose to her feet, slung her schoolbag over her shoulder and left. Unfortunately for her, she ended up in step with Malfoy as she made her way down the hallway out of the library.

She kept her gaze straight ahead and made no indication of acknowledging him. She noticed that he had begun to slow down his pace so as to avoid walking alongside her. Ginny smirked at the absurdity of it all. She dared to casually glance over her shoulder as though she was checking out the sculptures and suits of armor standing along the wall.

He was staring at the stone floor but briefly lift his gaze to meet her eyes. Malfoy scowled.

Their silent interaction was interrupted when Ginny missed the foot of a suit of armor and tripped head first. She landed roughly on the palms of her hands.

Malfoy snorted unkindly. Her hands were really smarting, but she prayed he’d continue walking and leave her be.

When a pair of shiny black Tergus loafers met her watering eyes, Ginny cursed to herself. She attempted to lift herself off the ground but he was kneeling in front of her and offered a hand.

Ginny refused to take it and stood. She stood face-to-face with Malfoy. His expression was unreadable, but it certainly wasn’t cruel. His blond tresses were dangling over his eyes. His gaze was steady and piercing. For a brief moment she felt like tugging at the loose ends of his tie and pulling him closer towards her. Her face flushed.

A little bit of bile rise up in her throat as she realized what she was thinking. She swiped away at the tears on her face with a robed arm. She stared at him as he lifted her schoolbag off the ground and handed it back to her silently. Ginny was expecting a nasty remark, but none came.

She mumbled a barely coherent ‘thank you’ and continued her way towards the Gryffindor tower.

“Malfoy, two, Weasley, zero,” a voice called out after her.

Ginny turned around to face him, puzzled.

“I’ve offered to help you twice now,” he said. “You owe me.”

“I owe you nothing.” She sneered at him.

He smirked at her, the glow of the moon illuminating his face. “I’ll call for the favor at some point.”

“Nobody asked you to help me,” she said, glaring at him.

“Ah, but a gentleman always helps a woman, whether she’s a lady or not.”

And there was the real Malfoy.

“And a true gentleman never asks for anything in return,” she bit back. She was about to leave again, but stopped in her tracks. “What’s your problem, anyway, Malfoy?”

He stepped towards her, his expression still blank. “Whatever do you mean?”

She inched backward. “I’m sick of your incessant insults and manipulating. The world doesn’t revolve around you. People don’t care about you nearly as much as you-”

Ginny noticed his expression change, and he became the threatening Malfoy from the broom closet.

“-think they do. Some people work hard when faced with adversity and don’t have a silver spoon that-”

Snarling at her, he roughly pushed her up against a wall and the back of her head scraped against the stone.

“Don’t you dare talk of adversity with me. You know nothing of that.”

Ginny wanted to rub the back of her head to see if it was bleeding, but he had her arms pinned to her sides.

“M-Malfoy,” she whispered. “You’re really hurting me-”

His grip loosened on her, but not because of what she’d said. His eyes had sunken back into his head and he cried out in pain as he sunk to the ground. He was clutching his left forearm.

Ginny rubbed the back of her head and found that nothing was wrong. She stared in wide-eyed horror as Draco continued to cry out in pain. She looked around the hallway for anyone else, but there was no one there.

“Malfoy, what-” she tried, her heart beating even more rapidly with each cry he made.

His right hand was now white with pain as he continued to grip his forearm. His head was bowed and his white blonde hair concealed his face.

“Somebody…help!” Ginny cried out. But no one came.

What do I do? she thought frantically. What’s going on with him?

Just her luck there wasn’t a portrait of a witch or wizard nearby.

She dropped to her knees and tried to reach out towards him.

Malfoy was now writhing in pain. His face was contorted in an expression of horror.

The sight terrified her and she bit back a sob of desperation.

She took her shaking hands and placed them on his shoulders to hold him down. He gripped her wrists and continued to howl in pain. Ginny didn’t know what she was doing, but she immediately shoved the sleeve of his left arm up.

She gasped. An ugly tattoo of the Dark Mark was crawling on Malfoy’s skin.

She wanted to release him and run away, to get as far away from the Dark Mark as possible, but his grip on her wouldn’t relent.

“Malfoy!” she cried, shaking his grasp on her. “Malfoy, stop!” Her own voice sounded completely alien to her.

And suddenly, just like that, it was all over. His muscles visibly relaxed and his cries of anguish were barely audible whimpers. She tore her hands away from him and scooted up against the stone wall. Ginny nursed her wrists as she stared at the silent Malfoy. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from him. His breathing was still heavy, but she couldn’t tell if he was conscious.

Ginny began to shake uncontrollably. He has the Dark Mark! The fact that he was in so much pain meant that something was very wrong…

Malfoy let out a groan.

Ginny jumped slightly, pressing herself up against the wall even more.

He steadily tried to lift himself up and ended up propping himself halfway up on his elbows. His eyes were closed, his hair wild. His pallid face was even more white than usual. When his eyes opened he stared at her, but said nothing. His breathing was still heavy, and the sound of his rasping was the only thing Ginny could hear.

He looked down at his exposed arm and flinched. His eyes widened at the realization that Ginny now knew. His mouth dropped open slightly.

“I…nobody was supposed…bloody hell,” he stammered.

Ginny began to crawl further away from him. She prayed he’d just let her go without another word. She needed to get away from him.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said simply. The original color was starting to come back to his face, and the dark, ominous glow of his eyes had disappeared.

Ginny said nothing and continued to inch further away. Why can’t I get onto my feet? You need to run, Ginny!

“Wait, I need to explain-” Malfoy said, his voice sounding slightly alarmed.

Ginny suddenly gained the courage to get up to her feet. She broke into a run, but Malfoy did the same.

“Wait, if you’ll just listen! Weasley!” he cried out. She could hear the thud of his loafers right behind her. She dropped her schoolbag behind her and tried to run faster.

Run, Ginny, run!

Suddenly two arms encircled her and forced her to the ground.

Ginny fought him. “Stop, please, just leave me alone!” She was crying hysterically now as she kicked at him and dug her nails into his shoulder blade. She heard him curse in pain.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” he hissed, finally managing to pin her underneath him.

Ginny shook violently and the tears continued to flow down her face.

“Look at me!” he shook her slightly. “Don’t cry. Please.”

Something about the way his voice cracked slowed Ginny’s shaking. When she continued to sob he sighed. He kept his grip on her. “I had no choice, don’t you see? You talk about adversity as though you know it. You’ve never had to make the choices I’ve had to make.” He laughed slightly. She stared at him.

“Choices,” he repeated. “In fact, I haven’t made a single decision in my life. Everyone else makes them for me. You think I wanted this?”

Ginny said nothing, but she thought perhaps he was talking more to himself now.

“The burn of the Mark is the worst pain I’ve ever felt. But I had no choice. Wouldn’t you do the same if your family was threatened? That’s adversity, Weasley.”

Ginny had calmed down a little. She thought if she gave up resisting him, he might let down his guard just long enough for her to run away.

He turned his face away from her. She could see that his eyes were glistening. “My mother…”

Malfoy choked back a sob before continuing. “My mother looks so broken now that Father is gone. She says she has nothing left. But what about me?”

And sure enough, Malfoy’s hold on her slackened. She had all the opportunity to get up and run and he wouldn’t even have had time to react. But once again she couldn’t find it in her to leave him.

He suddenly jerked his face back towards her. His eyes widened in fear, as though he just realized she was there. “You’re going to tell the school, aren’t you?”

“Shh,” she soothed him. “I’m not.” Ginny couldn’t believe the words were coming out of her mouth. She was comforting Malfoy for being a Death Eater? What had happened to her?

“Do you realize what would happen if you did?” he asked, ignoring what she’d just said.

“I won’t tell, I swear,” she said quietly. She raised a hand to gently stroke the side of his face. It was an involuntary action and she frightened herself. Her heart was pounding furiously.

He winced slightly at the touch of her skin against his face. It seemed as though life was slowly returning to his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut as her thumb traced his high cheekbone.

“Malfoy?” she asked quietly.

“What, Weasley?” he asked just as quietly.

“I’d say we’re even now.”

Draco couldn’t believe the mess he’d gotten himself into. First he’d wound up serving detention tomorrow, the day he was supposed to execute The Plan. And then worst of all, Ginny Weasley knew he was a Death Eater.

After his embarrassing encounter with her, Draco took his time walking back to the Slytherin House. He wasn’t sure what to think of the situation. At first he kept thinking it was just a bad dream – that he’d wake up any moment and find that his identity was still a secret. But the truth of it all eventually made his head hurt.

He’d contemplated performing a Confundus charm on her so that she’d forget what had happened. But he didn’t have the heart to do that. Even though the girl had every opportunity to run her mouth off to Dumbledore, he didn’t think she would. She’d given him her word, and he felt as though that meant something.

You’re being naïve, he chided himself.

In a weird, twisted way, Draco felt almost relieved. He’d felt as though he’d been holding his breath all this time, and running into Ginny Weasley had allowed him to surface for air. The fact that she knew made him feel vulnerable and exhilarated at the same time. It was as though he was rebelling against the Dark Lord by informing the enemy of his…his…his what, exactly? Status?

Many Death Eaters had been revealed after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. It would be no surprise to anyone that Draco had followed in his father’s footsteps. So why was he concealing the information?

Because they’d be watching you even more closely, his conscious reminded him. And he certainly didn’t need that, what with all he had to do this year.

He’d simply have to keep a watch on the girl. He wouldn’t let her in on anything else, oh no. He would allow her to believe that he’d been wrongly branded as a Death Eater and his participation ended there. She’d never know anything else. And if she told anyone – who would actually believe her?

Draco felt much better as he told himself that things would work out. This is merely a minor setback, he smirked.

As he approached the Slytherin entrance, he couldn't help but to think of the girl and the way she had touched his face with her hand. She'd had all the opportunity to run, scream, and call him vile names, but she did nothing of the sort. Instead, she'd given him what he'd needed for so long - an open mind and heart. It confused him.

When he walked through the entrance to the dungeons, he found that there were a few students sitting in the Common Room. It was only a little after ten o’clock. He found a vacant loveseat and flopped down onto it, throwing his head back in a frustrated groan. Somebody’s schoolbag lay at his feet. He kicked it to the side.

“Oi, what’s got your knickers in a knot?” Blaise asked, settling into a nearby armchair.

“Blaise, you have an uncanny ability to appear at the worst moments,” Draco sighed as he rubbed his temples.

“What can I say, I’m just a corking kind of guy.”

He looked up to see Astoria Greengrass approach them. She eyed him carefully, her expression unreadable as she tucked her long blonde hair behind her ears.

She was about to bend over to grab the schoolbag, but Draco picked it up for her.

“Allow me,” he said coolly, keeping his gaze steady with hers, as he rose to his feet.

“Why thank you, Draco,” she said, the ghost of a smile from earlier in the day flitting across her face.

He waited for her to leave before taking a seat once again.

Blaise coughed loudly.

Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t be a prat. What was that?”

“A gentleman always assists a lady in need,” he said, trying to mask a smile.

“In need of a good snog, that’s what I’m saying,” Blaise winked at him.

Draco sighed. “Zabini, you are one barmy old bloke.”

“I won’t deny it, but you certainly do,” Blaise said.

Draco was thoughtful for a moment before he sucked up his pride and asked his housemate, “Is she like Daphne?”

Blaise blinked. “Who?”

“Now who’s being the prat,” Draco said impatiently.

Blaise’s eyes danced mischievously. “Daphne’s a bit dodgy if you ask me. I don’t know much about her sister, mate. But she seems all right. ”

“She’s definitely a tease,” Draco mused.

“The best ones always are,” was the response.

_____________________

The next morning the school was abuzz with the tragic news of the death of Hannah Abbott’s mother. Students poured through the Saturday morning edition of The Daily Prophet for information, since Hannah had been removed from the school immediately.

“The poor girl,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “I could only imagine what it must be like.”

They were sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room, attempting to enjoy a Saturday morning.

Ginny noticed Harry open his mouth to speak, but closed it just as suddenly, as though he’d thought better of it.

Harry had become an even more recluse in the past few months. Ginny initially thought he was still mourning the death of Sirius, but she had the feeling that there was something else going on. He would leave the Common Room late at night and wouldn’t speak of his whereabouts to anyone except Ron and Hermione.

The only thing she’d been able to pick on was Harry’s new obsession with Draco Malfoy. He was convinced that he was a Death Eater.

Ginny shuddered, remembering the incident from the night before. She thought it must have been a bad dream. But Malfoy’s cries of pain were still ringing in her ears. Once she’d calmed down and the two of them had gotten to their feet, she wanted to ask him why the Mark had begun to burn. But before she could ask anything at all, he dismissed her.

Of course, after hearing about Hannah’s mother, Ginny had a feeling she knew what had happened. It made her feel sick.

She wasn’t sure where this left the two of them either. They weren’t friends, and yet she bore a burdensome secret of his that she really should tell others about. But she’d sworn she wouldn’t. Maybe it’s not my place to tell, she rationalized.

Ginny was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t see Dean approach her. They hadn’t spoken in days.

“Hello, Ginny,” he said. He was trying his best to give her a casual smile, but it came out lopsided.

She stifled a giggle. “Dean.”

“Can I talk to you for a mo’?” he asked.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were staring at Ginny.

“Um, all right,” she said. He offered her a hand to help her out of her seat and she took it. She could feel him squeezing her hand gently.

He led her towards an isolated part of the Common Room by a staircase leading to the girls’ dormitories.

Dean shifted his weight on his legs and scratched the back of his head. He always did that when he was nervous. “Ginny, I-”

Ginny interrupted him. “Wait, Dean, I know what you’re going to say.” She released a big sigh before continuing. “I haven’t really been myself lately, and I’ve been awful to you. I feel terrible about it.”

Dean’s eyes lit up. “Well, I feel like I’ve been a git. I haven’t been listening to you, you know?”

“We have some things to work out,” she said, nodding her head slowly. This conversation was going nowhere Ginny wanted it to go. But she couldn’t bring herself to end it with him. She’d broken up with Michael Corner easily, but that was because he was a sodding prat.

Ginny, you’ve handled six brothers your whole life, can’t you just handle one other boy? her conscience was hissing at her.

Dean started rambling about how much he’d missed her and what all he’d done to compensate for her absence in his life. Ginny’s stomach churned restlessly. He took her elbow and was walking her away from the staircase. She wasn’t sure where they were going and the increasing dizziness she was feeling wouldn’t allow her to resist.

Before she knew it she was being pushed roughly through the portrait hole. Ginny snapped her head back. “Dean! What is your problem?”

Dean’s mouth dropped slightly and he began to stammer. “Wh-what did I do?”

Ginny threw her hands up in the air in exasperation and let out a very unladylike growl. “You always do this. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to help me out of a portrait hole, let alone push me!”

“But I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Dean exclaimed. He looked utterly clueless, which made Ginny angrier.

And Ginny suddenly felt a very calming sensation sweep over. Where just a moment ago she wanted to tear her hair out, she now felt as though things had become crystal clear for her.

“Dean, I can’t do this anymore,” she said as a-matter-of-factly. “We’re through.”

His face crumpled as he stared at her in disbelief. Ginny’s heart may have broken the day before, but she felt nothing for him now.

As Ginny began to walk away from the Gryffindor entrance, leaving Dean to gape at her, she could’ve sworn she’d seen the faint flash of a pair of tattered trainers walking themselves on the stony ground.

Two hours later the students made their way to Hogsmeade. As they went through security under Filch Ginny joined the trio. Hermione and Ron weren’t on speaking terms, which didn’t surprise her one bit. This left Harry in a precarious situation and he seemed appreciative of Ginny’s presence.

“They’ve been at it since this morning,” Harry informed her quietly. She nodded.

Hermione fell into step with Ginny. “Are you and Dean going to the ball together, Gin?”

Ginny almost stopped in her tracks. “No,” she said, trying to come off as nonchalant as possible. “We had a row and I broke up with him.” She noticed Ron’s failed attempted at holding back his pleasure at hearing this. She also noticed Harry’s shoulders stiffen. Boys, she thought.

Hermione looked apologetic. “Oh! I’m-”

Ginny waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. It was going to happen sooner or later.” After a moment’s pause she asked, “Are you going with anyone?”

Hermione’s face flushed. “Well…I’ve had some people ask, but I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

Ginny couldn’t help notice that Hermione had said this a little louder than necessary. She glanced at Ron for a fraction of a second. He was scowling into the snow-covered ground. Ginny smirked at Harry and his eyes danced with amusement.

Once they’d arrived at Hogsmeade, Ginny waved the trio off as she found Colin and Luna. She was feeling a growing sense of hollowness inside of her. The fact that Harry, Ron, and Hermione excluded her had driven her mad her for so long, but Dean had been a nice distraction. And now he wasn’t there anymore.

“Where to?” Colin asked, linking his arms with both girls.

“I’d like a nice Butterbeer,” Luna said dreamily.

“That sounds nice.” Ginny nodded in agreement.

The three of them headed towards The Three Broomsticks. The place was packed with students. The found an empty table and quickly grabbed it.

Madam Rosmerta strode towards them. While ordinarily friendly with a natural bounce in her step, she seemed oddly disconcerted with a glazed look in her eyes.

“What’ll you lot have?” she asked.

“We’ll have three Butterbeers, please,” Ginny responded. She was about to ask the young woman if everything was all right, but she abruptly left.

“That was odd,” Colin said.

Next to their table sat three Slytherin girls. Ginny recognized two of them as the Greengrass sisters. The third was Tracey Davis, one year above her.

“You won’t guess who asked me to the ball,” Astoria Greengrass said, grinning ear-to-ear.

Merlin, is that all these girls talk about? Ginny thought.

“Pray tell, baby sister, what monster is taking you?” Daphne Greengrass smirked.

“Draco Malfoy,” Astoria said, holding her head up high.

Daphne snorted. “Good luck. He’s a project, that one.”

Tracey rolled her eyes. “Ignore her, Astoria, she’s probably just jealous she and Draco didn’t work out. You must join our group then. It’ll be me, Blaise, Theo, and Daphne.”

“That won’t be the least bit awkward.” Daphne scowled.

“What about Pansy?” Astoria asked. She was trying to pull off an innocent, wide-eyed expression, but the glee in her emerald green eyes revealed otherwise. They reminded Ginny of Harry’s eyes.

“Pansy won’t be coming with us. She’s going with a seventh-year, Charles Warrington.” Daphne said.

Tracey wrinkled her nose. “She’s selling herself short if you ask me.”

Daphne shrugged.

Ginny focused back on her own table. Colin and Luna hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation and were currently engrossed in a discussion about Quintapeds.

She felt sick. What’s wrong with me? Am I this upset over Dean? But her thoughts kept going back to what she’d just heard. Draco Malfoy was taking Astoria Greengrass to the Winter ball.

She wasn’t that pretty. Sure, she had long blonde hair, flashy green eyes, and full lips, but how many wizards actually went for that type?

Why do you care who Draco takes to the ball? her conscience teased her.

I don’t. But she just doesn’t seem like his type.

So? And how do you know what his type is?

“Ginny,” Luna’s voice broke into her thoughts. “We’re going to head over to Honeydukes.”

“Oh, right,” she answered, staring at her still full Butterbeer. She clasped the handle in her hand and without taking a second thought to it, she downed it in one go.

Ginny tugged her knitted cap over her head as they set foot outside. She hadn’t even taken two steps when two pairs of arms linked themselves around her elbows and lifted her off the ground.

“There’s our baby sister,” Fred said.

“We’ve been looking for you,” George piped in.

“To make sure you weren’t with any particular boys,” Fred finished, giving a deathly glare towards Colin, who obligingly backed away.

“Put me down,” Ginny demanded, while trying to hold her laughter back.

“She sounds just like Mum,” George said, as the two of them released her.

“What are you doing here?” Ginny asked, rubbing her gloved hands together. It was getting very cold.

“We’re thinking about buying Zonko’s,” Fred said.

“Expand our business opportunities,” George added.

“That’s great,” Ginny said sincerely. She’d been so proud of her brothers. They’d proved everyone wrong and made something spectacular of themselves. They were the two brightest wizards she knew.

The twins disappeared and Ginny and her friends were heading towards Honeyduke's when an ear-splitting scream stopped them. At first Ginny thought it was the wind, which had gained momentum in the past few minutes. But the excited shouts that followed proved her otherwise.

The three of them ran towards the direction of the voices. Ginny couldn’t believe what she was seeing. About thirty feet away from them stood Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne Ambry, a seventh year Gryffindor, staring towards the sky. Floating above them was Katie Bell, her hair fanned about her face, which was twisted into an expression of horror. The screaming was coming from her. For a brief moment, Ginny was reminded of Draco from the night before.

“Katie!” Leanne was screaming hysterically. “Katie! What’s wrong with her?!”

More people had gathered onto the street to witness the unusual scene.

“Oh my,” Luna whispered next to her. Ginny wanted to move closer to the scene, but her feet remained rooted to the ground. It was dangerously hypnotizing and scary at the same time.

She noticed Harry break into a run towards the school. Leanne continued to scream hysterically, and Hermione wrapped an arm around her in comfort. Ron was gaping at the scene, a fearful look in his eyes.

Moments later Harry returned with Hagrid who took Katie Bell in his large arms and rushed her back to the school. The crowd that had gathered began to disperse.

“It’s definitely, Dark Magic,” Luna said quietly, taking Ginny’s hand and squeezing it in her own.

When Professor McGonagall had assigned Draco to write his essay during detention, he’d initially embraced the task as a means to get his mind off of The Plan.

But his mind kept wandering as wrote out his essay on the risks involved with transfiguring humans into animals. In two hours he’d barely written a paragraph.

Transfiguring humans into animals is dangerous. I can vouch for this from personal experience, seeing as how a Hogwarts professor used this against me during my fourth year.

He stared at the ceiling in thought, frowning at the memory. His thoughts drifted back to The Plan.

What if something had gone wrong?

What if they knew it was him?

His quill began to shake between his fingers. He thought that McGonagall would’ve noticed, but she sat at her desk, reading through papers, her glasses having slid down to the edge of her nose.

She looked up to stare at him for a moment, a peculiar expression on her face. “Something the matter, Mr. Malfoy?’

He shook his head absently. “No, ma’am.” He continued to write, trying to apply more force onto the parchment in hopes of focusing better.

It had seemed like days had passed when Potter burst through the doors, his unkempt hair wild about his face, his face red from the winter cold. He held a balled up Gryffindor scarf close to his chest.

He ran straight towards the professor without even glancing at Draco.

“Professor, there’s been an attack on a student.”

Draco’s ears perked up.

McGonagall pushed her glasses back onto her face with one boney finger. She rose to her feet. “What is the meaning of this, Mr. Potter?”

Potter paused to catch his breath. “Katie Bell was given a mysterious, cursed object in Hogsmeade. She’s with Madam Pomfrey right now.” He dropped the scarf onto McGonagall’s desk. It made a soft clunk as it hit the wood.

Draco’s heart sank.

“And I think Malfoy was behind it,” Potter said, heaving his chest out as though he’d won a medal of some sort.

Draco’s head whirled. He was going to be sick. Potter knew!

“But Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy has been with me all afternoon.” She looked at Draco who forced himself to keep his eyes on her, so as to not appear guilty in any way.

Potter’s mouth dropped slightly as he turned to stare at him dumbly. “But-”

“I will see to Miss Bell, but I will not have you making wild accusations before you have a logical story in order.”

Draco felt like giving the old woman a rose. The feeling was quickly quelled when he reminded himself that a student had been seriously injured.

Oh, Merlin, what if she’s been killed!

He felt dizzy and his entire body became heavy. An odd ringing sensation began in his ears.

“Mr. Malfoy, I think that’ll be enough for today,” McGonagall said as she headed towards the door, carrying the balled up scarf.

Draco waited for her to leave with Potter, who was shooting him furtive glares. He didn’t even have the energy to give him a deathly glare of his own. Once the door shut, he slid out of his chair and onto the floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked himself back and forth.

It’s okay, Potter said she was with Madam Pomfrey. Surely had it been anything really serious, Potter would’ve said so?

But what of the necklace? What if they knew it was from Borgin’s shop and spoke to him? What if Borgin told them?

One thing was for certain. If the Ministry wasn’t after him about this, the Dark Lord surely would be. His body shook as he rose to his feet.

Draco took a deep breath and left McGonagall’s room. He passed by the trophy case and stopped to stare at the mysterious Special Services award for Tom Riddle. Draco had found that two things eased his nerves lately – clearing his head in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, and reading about The Great Muggle Wars.

He decided to head towards Snape’s office. He knocked on the door and entered.

Snape was pouring a lime green liquid from a beaker into a vial. He looked up to stare at Draco.

“Mr. Malfoy, how nice of you to stop by,” he said this without any expression on his face, but his muscles relaxed in relief. “I’d heard about Miss Bell’s accident and thought-”

“That I’d botched The Plan,” Draco said gruffly. “And you thought correctly.”

Snape was quiet for a moment. He corked the vial and slipped it into a pocket inside his robes. “Draco-”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Draco said flatly. “I’m actually here to see you about something else.”

Snape raised an eyebrow at him.

“I was wondering….” He swallowed. Draco wasn’t sure how to bring up his unusual fascination with The Great Muggle Wars with Snape. Surely he’d think Draco had gone mad. “I was wondering if I might be able to meet a former student in Slytherin. I thought perhaps you’d know of his whereabouts.”

“Who?” Snape asked, eyeing Draco carefully.

“Tom Riddle,” he said.

Draco had expected Snape to furrow his brow in thought or perhaps shrug at the unfamiliarity of the name, but he certainly hadn’t foreseen the reaction he received.

Snape’s eyes widened and he seized Draco by the robes.

“What-” Draco exclaimed, taken aback. “Unhand me!”

“Why do you ask of him?” Snape hissed, his black eyes darkening uncharacteristically. He didn’t release his hold on Draco.

“I-I-I saw an…award in the tr-trophy case,” Draco stammered. What was wrong with Snape?

Snape appeared to relax and he let go of Draco. “I’m afraid I cannot give you any information.”

“Bullocks. You obviously know whom I’m speaking of.” Draco snorted.

“Mind your tongue.” Snape sneered at him.

Draco returned the sneer. “I can ask others, you know, since you’re unwilling to cooperate. You’re always asking how you can help me, and I finally-”

Snape’s eyes flashed and his expression hardened. “Help with the task, Mr. Malfoy, not some petty interest in a school trophy. I hope you don't need to be reminded about your fate should you fail.”

Draco rolled his eyes and was about to turn to go when Snape held up a hand to stop him. The harshness in his face had disappeared, but he looked utterly serious.

“Mr. Malfoy, I strongly suggest you drop this...unbecoming…interest you ask of. It will lead you towards dangerous territory that you will soon regret.”

“I think I regret plenty as is,” Draco scoffed. He was beyond frustrated with his professor. He’d come seeking answers and had only been left with questions. What was so bad about Tom Riddle? He’d won a bloody award! How bad could he be?

“Our differences aside, I wanted to ask you one more thing Mr. Malfoy, and we both must get going, seeing as I have to do a bit of damage control on your behalf,” he patted the pocket in his robe. “Let’s hope Miss Bell’s condition isn’t too serious.”

Draco flinched.

“I know that last night’s incident was a bit excruciating. Have you been all right?” Snape was stroking his left forearm.

Draco knew that Snape was only looking out for him and he never relentlessly tortured him the way he did with his other students, namely the annoying Gryffindors. Snape always managed to turn his head the other way when Draco wound up in a spot of trouble and dotted on him like he were his own son. But he found that blaming Snape eased his misery. Sometimes he feared he would end up like Snape – alone, bitter, and teaching at a school he loathed so much.

“Just fine.” Draco flashed Snape an exaggerated smile and left the room.

Draco was now more curious than ever about Tom Riddle. He wondered who else he could ask. Slughorn seemed old enough to have been around the same time as Riddle, but didn’t even like Draco, so that wouldn’t work. He didn’t trust any of the other professors. Someone at the sodding school has to have been here the same time as him!

He considered Moaning Myrtle, but the wretched girl was befuddled as is, she probably would be of no help to him. But perhaps another ghost….

Draco broke into a sprint as he headed towards the dungeons. Sure enough, the Bloody Baron was drifting around the entrance, his expression stoic as always.

“Bloody Baron!” Draco gasped, doubling over slightly to catch his breath. The ghost stared at him blankly. A Slytherin through and through, Draco thought.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Draco said, trying to appear calm and collected. When the Baron still said nothing, Draco continued. “I wanted to ask you about a former student in Slytherin.”

The Baron looked mildly interested. He nodded his head slightly so as to encourage Draco to go on.

“Well…I…he was a student here several decades ago…Tom Riddle?” Draco asked hopefully.

The Baron’s face slowly broke into a humorless smile. “Tom Riddle,” he whispered.

Draco felt a chill go through him. “You knew him?”

“I knew Tom Riddle,” the Baron said, a smirk dancing on his translucent face.

Draco was bubbling with excitement. “And is he still alive?” He realized he’d probably said this much louder than was necessary.

The Baron’s eyes danced in amusement. “That is a difficult question.”

Draco almost groaned in frustration. He had little patience for these cryptic word games now. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The Baron rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If by ‘alive’ you ask whether he breathes, walks, and speaks, then yes.”

Draco frowned. What? “Well, where is he? What does he do?”

“I’m certain you know this already,” the Baron said, the smirk returning.

“Oh, enough with the game of mystery, Bloody Baron,” Draco sighed. ‘What are you trying to tell me?”

“I’m merely answering your questions,” the Baron said, a flash of annoyance crossing his face. “They are simple, and yet the answers you seek are not.”

“And in Squib’s terms,” Draco said, gritting his teeth, “this means that I know Tom Riddle? Surely I would’ve heard the name-”

The Baron interrupted him, his expression completely serious. “Oh, but you have. However, Tom Riddle no longer goes by this name. It is dead to him.”

When the Bloody Baron didn’t continue immediately, Draco was about to give up and admit he’d hit another brick wall. And all this because of my ridiculous urge to know more about The Great Muggle Wars. I might as well try asking another wizard about this. If only everyone wasn’t acting so peculiar about Riddle-

“Yes, you know him,” the Baron said finally, cocking his head to the side slightly. Draco could now see his initial excitement mirrored in the ghostly eyes.

Draco almost shook in anticipation.

“You know him because you carry his mark.”

Draco sat up in bed staring at the drawn curtains in front of him. He’d been sitting this way for what seemed like hours. He was still in his school uniform, but it didn’t bother him.

His conversation with the Bloody Baron had left him with a hollow feeling inside of him that clawed at his insides. I probably should’ve listened to Snape, he thought, pulling at a loose thread on his bed covers.

Draco had missed dinner, but he couldn’t care about that either. He needed this new information to sink in.

The Dark Lord was part Muggle? It didn’t make any sense. Why hadn’t anyone ever told him? It hurt that nobody had divulged this information to him. He’d often prided in being in on classified information, happily throwing it out in other people’s faces, especially with Potter.

His father and his friends had kept him in the know how for a long time. Since he’d been a boy, he’d been aware of the Dark Lord, his devoted followers, and their attempts to mobilize over the years. He knew of their plans, no matter how queasy they made him feel at times, and he could hold his head up high with pride.

He’d been aware and supportive of the incident that had occurred during Draco’s second year at Hogwarts. He knew that some form of old magic had enabled the Chamber of Secrets to unleash a terrifying beast that was taking out students one-by-one. Draco shuddered involuntarily at the thought. It had been all talk and empty threats at first, but when students started turning up petrified; Draco wasn’t sure what he thought of the beast. In fact, if the rumors had been correct, Ginny Weasley had nearly died within the Chambers.

He’d been aware of the plot to finally kill Potter once and for all during the Triwizard Tournament. Everyone had mercilessly tormented Scarhead, Draco included, for finding a loophole and entering himself in the competition. But Draco had known what was really going on. Oh, he’d wanted Potter dead just as much as the next Death Eater. It had infuriated him that the attention-mongering, four-eyed prat had once again become the hero of the school. And so Draco had been pleased with the way things had been going. Of course, nobody had bothered to inform him that Mad Eye Moody had in fact been a Death Eater in disguise, and it was him who had transfigured Draco into a ferret for all the school to see.

But when Potter had made a surprising return back to school very much alive with a very much dead Cedric Diggory, Draco’s stomach had clenched and he’d felt weak and feverish. Diggory’s haunted eyes stared blankly at the sky while his mouth hung open not in horror, but in odd sense of awe. Draco couldn’t tear his eyes away from the body, not even when the wailing of Amos Diggory rang so loud in his ears, he felt as though his chest would burst open.

Draco had also been aware of his father and aunt’s pursuit of a much needed prophecy. He wasn’t told of the contents, but he knew that Potter had been the key. The Dark Lord had been incredibly impatient, hounding after Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters to get him the prophecy. He’d taken his anger and frustration out on his subordinates, and Draco’s family had shook in fear on a regular basis, wondering what he would do to them. And in turn Draco took out his misery on the most viable target – Potter. He tormented him by joining the Inquisitorial Squad. While he didn’t care much for the toad-like Umbridge, he admired her ideals on blood purity, which she shared with some of the Slytherin students in private. And so he served her to make Potter’s life a living Hell.

Draco had also been present when his mother had met with Kreacher, the Black family house elf. The wretched old fool had complied with his mother’s plan to keep Sirius busy. Their blood traitorous cousin’s absence had sent Potter and his save-the-day obsession into the hands of awaiting Death Eaters.

He’d known all these things, and yet he’d been left in the dark about his Master’s own blood purity. Draco had been painfully initiated into a movement aiming to cleanse the Wizarding race of impurities. For as long as he could remember, Draco had felt as though he was superior to Muggles. He saw their lack of magical abilities as an embarrassing handicap and didn’t like the idea of them mixing with his own kind. And so he despised Muggle-born and Half-blood wizards and witches. They were inferior, filthy, and impure.

Draco didn’t want to think it, but he couldn’t help himself. He continued to absently pull at the loose thread on his bed covers. But doesn’t that make the Dark Lord impure?

The thought scared him and tried to shake it out of his head.

Does it matter what he is? Draco thought glumly.

Of course it does.

But something else didn’t make sense to Draco. Did the others know of this? It appeared as though they did, what with Snape reacting the way he did at the mention of Tom Riddle.

Draco felt sick. He grabbed a pillow from his bed and hugged it close to his chest. If they know….then why do they follow him?

That night Draco had a fitful sleep of haunting dreams that were so terrifying; he believed them to be real.

A dark shadow with an eerie green-like glow chased him as he ran through the streets of a Muggle town. It was black as night and the only source of light was a lone street lamp that flickered.

“Somebody, help!” Draco called out.

It was raining and his feet made sloshing sounds as they frantically thumped across the wet pavement. The town was quiet and nothing moved.

A lone figure stood within his reach and he made a grab for them. “Please,” Draco gasped.

His Muggle Studies professor turned to face him, her face stark white and her eyes wide with fear.

“Draco, how could you?” Charity Burbage cried, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“But I had no choice!” Draco sobbed, stepping back from the woman. She crumpled into a heap at his feet.

Draco cried out and jumped backward only to remember the dark shadow. He whirled around, coming face to face with the Dark Lord. His eyes were glowing so red, Draco didn’t think he’d seen anything so bright, so fiery. His face was contorted into an expression of intense fury; it made the hair stand on Draco’s neck.

“You dare question me!” the Dark Lord bellowed, his icy cold breath piercing Draco’s skin.

“N-no! My Lord! I wouldn’t d-,” Draco tried, dropping to his feet, his head bent forward.

“Silence!” the Dark Lord hissed. “You have failed me, Malfoy, and you shall pay!”

Draco felt a severe burning sensation grip his chest and he cried out in pain.

A hand gripped his shoulder and shook him. “Draco!”

“Noooo!” Draco howled, entangling himself in his bed sheets.

“Draco, it’s just a dream,” Blaise Zabini’s sleepy voice caught him by surprise.

Draco opened his eyes to see Blaise staring at him curiously. His housemate looked unabashed as a yawn escaped mouth, and yet his eyes revealed a small trace of concern.

“Oi, Malfoy, you think you could keep that ruckus to yourself, yeah?” Theodore Nott’s voice rang out from somewhere in the dormitory.

Draco grunted in response. Blaise continued to stare at him for a moment before retreating to his own bed. Draco sat up and allowed the cool air in the room to soothe his nerves. His hair was matted to his head and his pajamas were drenched in sweat. His breathing was still shaky, but his heartbeat had calmed down. It was so real, Draco thought, nervously.

He slowly got out of bed and threw a dressing gown on. There was no going back to sleep for him tonight. He left the Slytherin dungeons and made his way to the Prefect’s bathroom. Perhaps a nice bath would do him some good. His nerves were still worked up and he couldn’t help but to flinch every time he heard a creak or groan from the aging castle walls.

He thought he heard footsteps behind him, and as he paused to listen, the deafening silence engulfed him. He felt a shiver go down his spine. Draco, get a hold of yourself! Now is not the best time to let your imagination run wild!

Draco hurried his footsteps and quietly murmured the prefect’s password into the entranceway of the bathroom. As expected, it was empty. A dim glow from an array of lights surrounded the bath. He shook off his clothes and allowed the warm water to surround him as he waded in.

After five minutes he was feeling much better.

You need to think about pleasant things, like…er..

Draco tried to think of something other than the Dark Lord. It was almost difficult, since that had been all he’d been thinking of the past few months.

Think of Astoria Greengrass. You’re taking her to the ball. She’s got those gorgeous green eyes that bat themselves whenever she looks your way. And her red hair…

Draco splashed water onto his face. Red hair? She’s a stunning blonde. Why on earth are you thinking of…

Draco splashed some more water onto his face. This is ridiculous. I’m not even alone in my pleasant thoughts!

He rose out of the bath to dry himself off and get dressed. Before he left, he peered at both ends of the hallway to make sure no one was in sight. When the coast was clear, he made his way down the hallway back to the dungeons. His goal was to get there as quickly as possible, but a soft murmuring sound stopped him.

“I’m telling you, Ron, he was there,” Harry Potter obnoxious voice hissed. Draco pressed himself up against a wall, taking care to hide in the shadows.

“Harry, it’s really late, I don’t care where Malfoy is at this hour. He could bloody well be in You-Know Who’s lair at this very moment, plotting something sinister and dastardly, and I’d still prefer being tucked away in my warm bed.” If Draco wasn’t startled to hear this, he might’ve been amused. Have they been watching out for me?

“But isn’t it highly suspicious that he’d be awake right now?” Potter sounded impatient.

What are they playing at?

“Sure, whatever, m-m-mate,” Weasley yawned. He heard retreating footsteps. Malfoy held his breath, waiting for the second pair to follow in pursuit. After a moment, he heard Potter sigh and trail after Weasley.

Draco shuddered in panic. I’m being followed! Thoughts whirled around his head. How long had they been doing this? How much did they know?

His panic soon became fury. Bloody Potter! Who did the sodding git think he was, anyway? He struts around the school like he owns the place. And now he’s keeping watch on me? I’m a prefect. I should be able to haul his arse to Dumbledore’s office right now and have him punished for being out past curfew.

Draco muttered some choice words into the dark.

“The nerve of you young people!” a voice echoed from one of the slumbering portraits.

He suppressed a growl that had been building inside of him as he stomped down the dark hallway. Potty is going to pay for this.

He was too riled up to return to the dungeons, so instead he made his way towards the Astronomy Tower to cool down. The winter air immediately bit at his skin and he shivered, wrapping his arms around himself tightly. Draco closed his eyes and took deep breaths.

Relax. You can’t lose control of yourself. This isn’t the time.

The sound of footsteps made his eyes snap open. If it was a professor, he had no time to duck for cover. If it was a student, he surely had enough rage in him to singe the hair off their head with a quick spell.

Draco was startled to find Ginny Weasley in the stone archway entrance to the tower.

“Malfoy,” she nodded.

“Weasley?” he asked dumbly. She was wearing a satin dressing gown, her hair falling loose about her face. It was the first time he’d seen her since the night Hannah Abbot’s mother had died.

“I know how Harry knew where you were,” she said casually, leaning against a stone wall as she hugged herself.

Before he could respond, she had her wand raised and murmured a spell that hit him square in the chest.

Draco jumped from the impact, more from panic than anything else. “What the bloody hell did you just do to me?” He shook in anger.

“It’s a hideaway charm,” she said simply, tucking one side of her hair behind an ear. “Harry has a way of knowing where anyone in the castle is at any given moment. I’ve just concealed your location.”

Draco really wanted to ask how Potter had managed to do something like that, but instead he asked, “And why would you bother concealing my location?” He sneered at her.

She stared at him for a moment, taking in his obnoxious attitude. “Well, for one thing, if Harry caught you doing anything remotely suspicious, I can guarantee you’d find yourself next to Daddy dearest before you could say ‘hippogriff’ fast enough.”

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her thoughtfully. “You didn’t answer my question. Why would you bother concealing my location?”

She rolled her eyes, but refrained from adding anything more. He turned his back on her and leaned against the cold, stone balcony of the Astronomy Tower. His knuckles were white from the cold.

“Why are you really here, Weasley?” he asked, without looking at her.

“I thought Harry might find you the same way I did,” she said quietly.

“So let him,” he said. “It’s not your concern.” He didn’t understand her, or better yet, them. She’d seen him in one moment of weakness and had apparently declared them friends. He didn’t dislike her, but he didn’t like her either. He’d been hoping she would’ve forgotten the whole thing had happened. And if she was going to look out for him, well then that was quite problematic.

She remained silent, so he turned around to stare at her. A gust of the cold night air swept over them. Ginny’s dressing gown blew open to reveal her nightgown. Draco averted his gaze. “You have no allegiance to me. You have nothing to gain from keeping this from them.”

Ginny quickly closed her dressing gown and raised her head defiantly. “I told you I wouldn’t, and perhaps one’s word doesn’t mean a whole lot to a Slytherin, but it sure does to me.”

“Loyalty belongs to the Hufflepuffs,” he said.

“And bravery belongs in Gryffindor. Anyone can stick up for their friends, but can anyone do the same for a foe?”

“Then you’ve made a fool’s choice,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

She laughed, and he wasn’t really sure why. He noticed that the red of her hair was the only vibrant color that defied the blinding white of the moonlight. Neither had he noticed how close they were standing to each other, with only a meter’s distance. The satin dressing gown she was struggling to keep closed hugged the contours of her body. Her brown doe-like eyes danced with intrigue and her cheeks colored pink as she noticed him staring. Not staring, he reprimanded himself, observing.

“We’re not friends,” he said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, her lips twitching.

“I don’t even like you,” he said.

“Me neither.”

He took a step closer to her and leaned in for a kiss, taking her lips into his own. It was an exhilarating feeling, and she created a sensation in him that he hadn’t felt before. She pulled back slightly but he placed his hands on her hips, drawing her closer to him.

The feel of the soft satin and the soft body underneath made his knees weak. She moaned into him.

“Malfoy-” she gasped as he trailed kisses down her jaw line. She clung to his arms, almost begging him to keep her up. He moved her against a stone wall, pressing himself even closer to her so he could savor the touch of her soft body against his. His lips grazed her throat and he could feel her shuddering in his arms, short gasps of pleasure escaping her. His lower abdomen was throbbing in frustration.

“Stop,” she whispered, placing her hands against his chest in a feeble attempt to push him away.

“Why,” he asked, but not really asking at all, as he slid a hand down her back.

“Please,” she pleaded with him, arching into him as his lips wandered dangerously close to her ample chest. He wanted to touch her breasts, but restrained himself.

“Please what?” He smiled against her porcelain skin.

Her fingers threaded through his hair and she pulled his face level with hers. Her eyes were hungry with desire. Draco kissed her deeply until she moaned so loud, he was sure Filch would come running. He drew away from her embrace.

“Weasley.” he nodded to her before heading back into the school, a smile on his face.

Ginny didn’t know how she’d stumbled back towards the Gryffindor tower. She wasn’t sure how she remembered the password as she awoke the Fat Lady for entry. She wasn’t sure how she’d managed to climb the stairs up towards her dormitory. And she wasn’t sure how she’d gotten to where she was now – sitting up in bed, fingers pressed to her lips, recalling what had just occurred.

It had all gone by in such a blur. One moment she was studying for a Transfiguration exam, and the next, she was out in the hallways looking for Malfoy. She didn’t know what she was expecting to happen when she did find him.

Ginny turned multiple shades of red as she kept thinking about how Malfoy had kissed her. And that she’d actually liked it. Even worse still, she was afraid she’d been all too vocal about liking it. Neither Michael nor Dean had kissed her like that.

And the touch of his hands on my body… Ginny shivered at the thought. And then he’d pulled away when she’d been wanting more. It confused her. Was she not up to his standards?

What does it matter?! Oh my Lord, Malfoy kissed you! You should be taking every single cleansing potion possible to rid yourself of the foul taste!

But it really wasn’t bad…it was quite nice…

Perhaps she was just a spur of the moment snog. He was bored, she was there…

He’s probably with another girl right at this moment, that Astoria Greengrass for sure!

Ginny remembered the way his lips slid down her throat, the way he held her up when she thought her knees would cave in. She remembered the way his hand roamed down her back, and the way her body reacted accordingly.

Ginny groaned and threw a pillow over her face.

The next morning Ginny decided to put the incident behind her. It was an accident. A delicious accident, but an accident nonetheless.

She gave herself a light slap across the face. You need to forget about this. As she hurriedly twisted her hair into two sloppy braids, Ginny’s eyes widened. I smell like Draco Malfoy. She yanked at her two plaits and drew them across her freckled nose. Oh Merlin, he’s everywhere!

In a state of panic, she grabbed her bottle of Niveus Pluvia and sprayed it over herself generously. Ginny had been wearing the scent for years. It smelled of lilies. And this moment called for her to smell more like Ginny than ever before.

After she got dressed she headed towards the Common Room. She found a group of Gryffindor girls huddled into a mass with squeals of giggling emanating from them. There wasn’t a boy in sight. The whole lot of them had probably scared them all away.

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked, making her way towards the center. She found Lavender Brown holding a gorgeous set of magenta robes against her form. The girl was twirling around for the others to see.

“Oh, Ginny!” Lavender gushed, as though receiving a friend. “Come see my new dress robes for the ball next weekend!”

Ginny was about to raise an eyebrow in confusion when Parvati spoke up. “Ron will love them.”

The girls burst into a fit of giggles and Ginny wanted to laugh for an entirely different reason. “You’re going to the ball with my brother?”

“Yes.” Lavender beamed at her. “Isn’t it exciting?”

Ginny opened her mouth for a snide retort, but thought better of it. “Sure.”

She managed to back out of the crowd unnoticed and was shaking her head in disbelief when she spotted a bushy haired figure dart out of the portrait hole discreetly.

Ginny followed after Hermione. “Hermione,” she called out, attempting to catch up with her friend.

Hermione whirled around. Her expression was sullen, but the girl managed to flash Ginny and overtly forced smile.

“Hello, Ginny,” she said, clutching a stack of books to her chest.

“You all right?” she asked, furrowing her brow.

“Oh, yes,” Hermione nodded her head vigorously. “I just wanted to get a bit of reading in before breakfast and I couldn’t concentrate in the Common Room.”

She turned to walk away, but Ginny quickly added, “He’s a big git.”

Hermione stiffened, but didn’t look back at Ginny as she hurried down the hallway.

Ginny sighed. Ron really deserved a smack upside the head sometimes. In a way she was relieved that Ron was taking an active role with girls, despite his questionable interest. It allowed her to kiss a boy without Ron jumping down her throat.

Although he may still do that if he knew who Ginny had kissed recently. She shook away the thought. You said you’d forget about it!

Ginny didn’t realize the ball was just around the corner. She was looking forward to it, seeing as how the whole school was going to be there and she’d heard that the new Wizarding band, Apollo’s Dream would be performing.

Since she’d broken up with Dean three boys had asked her to the dance, but she had declined all of them. She thought about going with Neville, since he’d taken her to the Yule Ball, but he was going with a girl from Hufflepuff, Megan Jones. Colin would’ve been her next choice, but he’d already asked Luna.

Ginny’s mind rattled off various names, trying to figure out who would be the most bearable to attend the ball with. She headed towards the Great Hall and found where all the Gryffindor boys had stowed away to.

She found a seat across from Harry and Ron.

“So, Ron,” Ginny said, grinning. She just had to tease him about this.

Ron quirked an eyebrow up at her as he shoveled a forkful of blueberry waffles into his mouth.

“Lavender is just so thrilled to be attending the ball with you,” she said, her grin still in place.

Ron stopped chewing for a moment for his cheeks to tinge pink. Harry’s lips quivered slightly.

“Buwwar ooff, Inny.” He scowled through his stuffed mouth.

Harry tried to conceal a laugh as a cough. “Who’s taking you, Gin?” he asked her.

Ginny’s face suddenly grew hot. “Er…nobody yet.”

“As it should be,” Ron said, normal speech having returned to him. He was about to continue eating when a look of realization suddenly framed his freckled face. “Hey, Harry! Why don’t you-”

Ron wasn’t able to finish his thought because the table suddenly clattered loudly, followed by a very ungracious “oof!” escaping his mouth.

Harry was staring at the table in front of him, his face expressionless, but his ears bright red. The two of them were oddly quiet.

“Er, there’s Lavender,” Ron said, rising to his feet. “I should…go…see…” he broke off into a run towards a direction where nobody the likes of Lavender stood.

Ginny fidgeted in her seat, avoiding Harry’s presence. If only she had “a Lavender” to run off to.

“Um, that wasn’t the least bit embarrassing,” Harry chuckled, ruffling his hair with a hand.

Ginny looked up to meet his gaze and smiled. “Ron isn’t the most sententious of people.”

“Hardly,” Harry said.

There was another awkward moment of silence.

“Er, Ginny?” Harry asked.

“Yes, Harry?”

“If you don’t have anyone to go to the ball with, and well, you’d like to go with someone, you know, as…a friend and all, then you’d be honored,” he blushed at his mistake. “…I mean I’d be honored if I could escort you?”

He looked at her hopefully, his green eyes gleaming in anticipation.

“Sure, Harry.” Ginny smiled. “I’d be honored.”

Ginny had waited for years for Harry Potter to be at a loss for words around her, and now that the moment had arrived, she felt compassion for the young man that had grown to become like the seventh brother she’d never had.

She wasn’t ignorant of his behavior recently. He’d become more reserved and formal around her, treating her like a woman instead of his kid sister. How things have changed, Ginny thought sadly.

His handsome face lit up. “Great!” And then he quickly sobered his expression in embarrassment. “I mean…well…it should be fun.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what I’m going to wear,” Ginny said, more to herself. She watched Harry fumble for an appropriate response, but as if on cue, a brown spotted owl holding a package flew into the Hall and landed in front of Ginny.

She opened it hastily. The girls, who had all decided to take a break from their giggling, had finally decided to sit down to breakfast and were anxiously watching Ginny open her package.

She first found a letter in her mother’s handwriting.

Ginny,

I decided to send you something new. Hope you enjoy your time at the ball. Give our regards to Ron, Harry, and Hermione.

Lots of love,
Mum

Ginny tossed the letter aside to find what her mother had been talking about. She gasped as she held up a beautiful white and gold set of robes. It took quite a bit to take her breath away, but the new robes certainly did it for her.

“Oh, Ginny!” Parvati breathed dreamily. “They’re beautiful!”

Ginny was suddenly aware that the greater portion of the Hall had become quiet and was gaping at her and her new robes. She blushed and quickly stuffed the robes back into its packaging.

“Well, that definitely takes care of your problem, yeah?” Harry said.

“Yeah.” Ginny laughed in bewilderment. “It definitely does.”

Ginny spent the greater portion of her Saturday afternoon sitting with Colin and Luna in the library. It was much too cold to go outside.

“So Harry and you, huh?” Colin attempted to feign innocence, but his eyes gleamed mischievously.

“Yes, me and Harry,” she said, pulling at the loose strands of hair that had fallen out of her braids.

Luna was hunched over a pile of books. She looked up from her reading for a moment to stare at Ginny thoughtfully.

“You don’t sound thrilled.”

Ginny swallowed hard. “I’m happy. I’m going with a good friend of mine.”

Colin snorted. “A good friend, eh? I suppose we’ve come a long way since singing Valentines and hours of writing in a dia-”

Ginny’s face blanched. Oh, why had he brought that up?

Colin looked at her peculiarly. “You all right, Ginny? I was only teasing. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Ginny balled her fists under the table they were sitting at. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about what had happened to her during her first year. She couldn’t blame Colin for what he’d said; he hadn’t known.

“I’m fine,” she said quietly, gritting her teeth to get the words out calmly.

There was a silence among them, filled only with the sound of turning pages as Luna thumbed through a book.

“Are we almost done with the Muggle Studies project?” Luna asked, keeping her eyes on her reading.

“Yes, I believe so. We haven’t decided who the spokesperson will be, though,” Ginny said, grateful for the change in subject.

“I think you should do it, Ginny,” Colin said, eyeing her nervously. “I think you really know this stuff.”

“Oh, well, I’m not really comfortable with public speaking,” she lied. She really did not want to stand in front of a group of students and talk about the development and use of Muggle bombs during the Second Great Muggle War.

“Rubbish, you’re very eloquent,” Colin said, folding his arms across his chest.

“We should make Malfoy do it, after all, it was his idea and he’s quite loquacious when the occasion calls for it,” Luna said.

Ginny’s skin prickled at the mention of his name. “Yes, he should do it.”

They were to give their presentation on Wednesday and everything seemed to be ready to go. Ginny had been anxious to see Malfoy before then just so see how he’d react to her.

She hadn’t seen him during meals, nor had he been present whenever she’d seen his cronies lurking in the hallways. It seemed odd, and she felt a tiny sense of concern over his absence.

Stop it; it’s good you can’t find him. Maybe then you can stop obsessing over him.

I’m not obsessing!

On Wednesday morning Ginny stared into her oatmeal during breakfast. Their presentation was coming up.

As other students began to trickle into the Great Hall Ginny finally spotted the shock of platinum blond hair she’d been searching for. Draco Malfoy took a seat in-between Crabbe and Zabini. He looked a bit peaky, but as always, he was a vision of perfection with his freshly pressed robes and his hair combed back.

Ginny couldn’t help staring at him, wondering if he’d look up and see her. She drummed her fingers against the tabletop impatiently.

“Nervous about your presentation?” Harry’s voice broke into her anticipation as he took a seat next to her.

“Er, yeah,” she said absently, turning to give him a polite smile.

“I’m sure things will go fine,” he said reassuringly.

“Thanks, Harry,” Ginny said. Her eyes went back to the Slytherin table. Malfoy was leaning towards Zabini in conversation. Astoria Greengrass sat a few feet away with her gaggle of fourth year girls.

Look up, look up!

Her thoughts were once again interrupted by the sound of school books slamming against the table. She jumped slightly, looking for the source of the commotion.

Ron took a seat across from Harry, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Something the matter, Ron?” Harry asked with an amused expression on his face.

“Lavender is what’s the matter.” He exhaled loudly. “She asked me to spend the Christmas holiday with her family. Her family, Harry! She’s bloody mad, I tell you! I ask the girl to a school dance and this is what I get?”

“What’s the matter Won-Won, you don’t think you’ll have a smashing ol’ time with the Brown family?” Ginny laughed.

Ron glared at her. He was about to respond but Hermione had suddenly appeared.

“Hey Gin, Harry,” Hermione said brightly.

There was an awkward silence for a moment as she took a seat on Ginny’s other side. Ron’s ears turned slightly pink.

“But I haven’t decided yet. Perhaps I should take up Lavender’s offer. It may be a nice change for Christmas,” Ron said loudly.

Ginny noticed Hermione’s hand shake slightly as she lifted a fork.

Another awkward silence.

“Ginny, you must see my dress for the ball later today. It came in the mail,” Hermione said sweetly.

“I’d love to, Hermione,” Ginny said, offering her friend a smile. “And who’s the lucky bloke taking you?”

“Anthony Goldstein,” she said, blushing.

“That ruddy Ravenclaw doesn’t know a thing-” Ron had foolishly decided to open his mouth, but stopped speaking when Harry shook his head at him furiously.

Ginny sighed inwardly as the silence surrounded her once more. She could feel Hermione tense up next to her.

“Well, I should get going. I’m meeting Anthony before class. Some students become prefects based on their high marks and propensity for leadership. Others…I’m not so sure. The headmaster’s pity, I assume,” Hermione said coldly as she rose to her feet.

Ron’s mouth dropped slightly, but he quickly drew it shut into a scowl.

Ginny watched Hermione leave and in the process, her gaze returned to the Slytherin table. She could barely see Malfoy now that Theodore Nott sat across from him, his form obstructing her view. She was ready to accept the fact that he’d never look up towards her direction.

Theodore bent over to retrieve a fallen napkin. In that brief moment, Malfoy lifted his gaze to meet Ginny’s. His face was expressionless, but she could’ve sworn she’d seen his lips twitch slightly before Theodore returned to his upright position.

Ginny felt a rushing sound around her ears and her stomach lurched. Was that a smile? No, he must have accidentally looked my way.

“Ginny, let’s go, we don’t want to be late for class,” Colin said, tugging on her elbow.

“Oh, right,” she said, rising to her feet. She noticed that Malfoy had already disappeared.

Everyone was sitting with their respective groups when they got to class. There were students fumbling with note cards and rehearsing in front of their group members. Draco Malfoy was sitting off to the side with his feet propped onto his desk, his head tilted forward, and his eyes shut.

“Malfoy!” Olivia approached the sleeping boy, her expression frazzled. “Are you ready to go?”

Malfoy cracked an eye open at her lazily. “Of course I am.”

Olivia turned to face her group and shrugged. Her eyes were filled with anticipation. They had all helped put the presentation together and had insisted he deliver it, but they weren’t sure if he would let them down.

“Good morning, class,” Professor Burbage greeted them upon entering the room. Her sweeping black robes trailed behind her as she made her way to the front.

“We will begin our presentations momentarily, but first I’d like a few words,” she began, straightening herself out. “We have spent the greater portion of the Fall term studying Muggle history and contemporary conveniences. Once you return from the holidays, we will start working on practical application.”

A hand went up into the air.

“Yes?” Burbage asked, turning to face a Hufflepuff student.

“What do you mean by ‘practical application’? Muggles don’t have mag-”, the student started.

“Of course,” Burbage said as-of-matter-of-factly. “We will study how Muggles go about day-to-day activities without magic and practice ourselves.”

There was a mixture of groans and gasps throughout the room. The students had grown accustomed to using magic whenever possible. It was only during extreme punishments that they were asked to perform tasks without their wands.

“Tut, tut.” Burbage chided their response. “You’ve known about this from the beginning of the year. This will culminate in the tour of the Muggle city I mentioned before.”

“Now, if there aren’t any further questions, let’s begin.”

The presentations ran smoothly. They were required to take notes while the other students spoke. After three groups had gone, Ginny had filled out four sheets of paper in her notebook on the fighter plane, submarine, and flamethrowers. They were next.

Malfoy rose to his feet slowly, straightened out his robes and walked towards the front of the room.

Ginny’s group glanced at each other nervously. He had no note cards present with him.

He stared at the room haughtily. “My group and I researched the development and effects of bombs during the Second Great Muggle War. We covered the use of the bomb in Europe as well as the atomic bomb project that resulted in the annihilation of two Japanese provinces.”

“As one of the earlier groups already mentioned, airplanes were used during the war to deploy bombs. Initially this aerial bombing targeted industrial centers where Muggles produced military goods. Through the course of the war, this changed as more and more urban areas with dense populations were attacked.”

Ginny had to admit that Malfoy was doing a great job. He was engaging, confident, and definitely knew what he was talking about. His voice was steady and somber. But he had reached the subject she’d been dreading.

“In 1940 the Germans launched an attack against Britain that lasted nearly a year. It is estimated that nearly 43,000 British civilians were killed, including witches and wizards.”

Ginny’s hands felt clammy. There was a murmur of surprise throughout the class.

“The Allied forces, which included the countries of Britain, France, America, and Russia, used bombs themselves. Before I get to the most deadly of all, I want to explain what a bomb is.”

Malfoy’s eyes had clouded over with intensity. Ginny found herself leaning over her desk in anticipation, even though she knew what he was about to say.

“A bomb is an explosive device. This involves a combination of physics and chemistry, two Muggle disciplines that study the properties of objects and matter. This is much like alchemy, which we wizards and witches have studied extensively. When certain elements are combined, they alter the properties of each other and become a new, possibly deadly element. Muggle scientists were able to experiment and determine which of these elements could generate the most devastation.”

Malfoy went on to explain the properties of different elements and how Muggles were able to determine this. Ginny sat gaping at him. She had known none of this; Malfoy must have researched the information himself. She was stunned, in awe, and a little fearful of his knowledge over the subject.

“The American government had been developing a secret bomb project for years. Many of the scientists working on this were German refugees,” Malfoy continued. He paused to smile to himself for a moment. “It’s quite ironic, really.” The class continued to stare at him in stony silence and Malfoy quickly composed himself, becoming stoic once again.

“The Allied forces were winning the war against the Germans and forced them to surrender in 1945, Berlin having suffered much death and destruction from aerial bombings. But the war continued to rage in the Pacific, which is why the Americans decided to deploy two atomic bombs on Japan. These bombs were much more-”

Malfoy stopped speaking abruptly. She noticed his hands quake ever so slightly. He let out a tiny sigh and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Merlin, he’s getting emotional!

The class stared at him expectedly, wondering what the problem was.

Before Ginny knew what she was doing, she was on her feet, standing next to him. “These bombs were much more destructive and designed to destroy an entire city. They were used in the war to encourage a speedy surrender. The bombs were dropped from airplanes and exploded mid-air, which then created a characteristic mushroom-cloud formation. Several thousand people died on impact, while many more suffered the effects of radiation.”

Ginny continued to close the presentation and noticed that Malfoy had ducked away from her side and had left the classroom quietly. Nobody had noticed except her.

When she returned to her seat she received a round of applause and Professor Burbage beamed at her.

Once they were dismissed, Ginny was the first out of the room to find Malfoy. She wasn’t sure what had happened to him, but she almost thought his display of emotion endearing.

She found him sitting in a dank corridor, his knees propped up and his head pressed against the stone wall. He stared at a blank wall across from him, his gaze stony. His neat robes were now wrinkled, his hair falling into his eyes. Her heart lurched and the feeling surprised her. He looked utterly vulnerable.

“Malfoy?” she asked quietly, stopping a few feet away from him.

When he did nothing to acknowledge her presence, she continued. “Are you okay?”

He glanced at her a moment, his eyes slightly red, but then stared at his knees in silence.

“You did a really good job. We were all impressed.”

Still nothing.

She knelt in front of him, searching for his eyes. “Look, I know it was a difficult topic to cover. Which is why I didn’t want to do it in the first place, but you insisted and-”

He looked up to give her a sharp glare.

“Okay, so I didn’t come here to say ‘I told you so’, but it’s okay to be….troubled…by this. It was a horrid thing that happened to so many people.”

“You and your lot care so much about these Muggles. Look what they do to themselves. Look what they do to us.” Malfoy’s expression had hardened. His sneer was so big she could see some of his teeth barred.

Ginny laughed humorlessly. “And look what wizards do to each other! You know.” She stared at his left arm.

“It’s what humans do. Leaders make decisions at the expense of their followers. The Germans walked behind their leader, and the Americans behind theirs. It’s much like us. We do what the Ministry tells us to do. But sometimes it’s not just them, but…other…groups…like…,” she faltered slightly, not sure how to say ‘Death Eaters’ without enraging him.

“Mine,” he said flatly.

“Yes.” Ginny swallowed hard. “And you said you didn’t have a choice, right?” Her heart beat rapidly and she winced. She knew she had crossed one too many lines with him and waited for him to pin her against a wall with his wand at her temple.

He stared at her, his gaze steady. She shook a little, but not in fear. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it shut. Malfoy rose to his feet. “I need to go.”

Ginny shuddered involuntarily as she watched him disappear around the corner.

Draco smoothed out his robes before carefully running a hand through his hair, making sure that each strand sat where it was supposed to. He stared at his reflection in a mirror.

He knew he was handsome, but he had to admit that he looked particularly stunning this evening. He wore a brand new set of navy blue dress robes. His dragon hide boots gleamed, as though anticipating the ballroom dance floor.

“Don’t you look just terrible,” Blaise said with a chuckle.

Draco turned to stare at his friend. His classic black robes and the closely-cut dark curls that hung about his face gave him quite an impressive look.

Draco smirked. “Shall we?” He held out an arm for Blaise to take.

Blaise returned his smirk and shoved past him to exit their dormitory. They made their way into the Common Room to find Theo, Daphne, and Tracey waiting.

Everyone looked great, even Tracey, whom Draco had thought of as quite plain.

“Where’s Astoria?” Draco asked, wanting to sound impatient and not eager.

“She’s not quite ready yet,” Daphne answered. “And you said I was difficult.” She gave Draco a friendly wink.

No sooner had she said this, Astoria emerged wearing a dazzling set of ice-blue robes that trailed behind her. They were stylishly cut off the shoulder, revealing her porcelain white skin. Her blonde hair was partially piled atop her head, with loose tendrils framing her heart-shaped face. Her ghost of a smile eyed Draco appreciatively as she haughtily raised her head in pride at the gasps from the other girls.

She stood next to her sister, and Draco took a step towards Astoria, his eyes never leaving her gaze, and took her hand to his lips. She wore a diamond bracelet that slid up her wrist as she did so, the glint of the stones capturing his eyes. Draco had to admit that the young woman had impeccable taste.

“We should get going,” Theo said roughly. Daphne took his arm in agreement and the six of them left the dungeons.

Astoria’s hand held the crook of his arm tightly and he fought back a pleased smile. She appeared to be a sophisticated, classy witch with a respectable family. He thought that perhaps his mother would like her. They had the same grace and presence. He liked that.

The Great Hall had completely transformed. The entrance featured a sparkling arch sculpted out of ice. Real snowflakes hung suspended in midair to create a dazzling white glow across the room. Three feet of snow gleamed against the edges of the walls. There were ice sculptures, a life-size snow globe for couples to take their picture together, and icicles hanging from the ceiling.

Music filled the hall as the new wizarding band, Apollo’s Dream, performed on a stage on what would’ve been the location of the staff table.

You caught me by surprise
I just couldn't seem to realize
The spell you put on me
The spell you put on me

There were students dancing and enjoying refreshments and each others company, wearing fancy dress robes that Draco thought were a bit distasteful and subpar.

Their party claimed an available table and Draco held out a chair for Astoria. She blushed slightly as she took a seat.

“Some pumpkin juice, Astoria?” he asked politely.

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” she responded.

“You know,” Blaise said, tagging along with Draco to the refreshments, “you make the rest of us blokes look bad when you do that.”

“Do what?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Being a gentleman.” He smirked.

Draco shrugged. “It wouldn’t kill you to treat Tracey Davis like a lady.”

He poured two glasses of pumpkin juice and was about to make his way back to their table when he couldn’t help noticing Potty and Weasel entering the Hall.

It wasn’t their slightly acceptable robes that caught his attention. Nor was it Potter’s endless mass of unruly hair or Weasley’s slouched, insecure frame that ordinarily made Draco shudder. It was Ginny Weasley, who held Harry Potter’s hand as she trailed in after the rest of them.

His mouth dropped slightly and he had to steady the two glasses in his hand. She was beautiful.

She wore white, sleeveless dress robes reminiscent of the Roman goddesses, with her blazing red hair in a simple pony tail, its knot resting at the nape of her neck. She had a small smile on her face as she greeted other students, her eyes full of light as she took in the room around her. She let out an excited laugh as she tugged on Potter’s robes, pointing out the snow in the air. A simple gold bracelet on her wrist caught the reflecting light of the snowflakes. Potter smiled first at the snow, and then at her, his eyes taking in her presence next to him.

An unfamiliar sensation rippled through Draco. He felt a sharp pain and it took him a moment to realize that he’d broken one of the glasses in his hands. A first year Ravenclaw passing by yelped at the sight of his blood dripping into the snow, but Draco scowled at him, causing the student to jump and flee.

Draco calmly pulled out his wand and healed his hand. He filled a new glass with juice and headed back towards his table.

The table was in discussion, about what, Draco didn’t know. He stared at his lap thoughtfully. He had kissed Ginny Weasley on whim last week. It seemed like a brash and idiotic thing to do, but he’d been confused, and she was there, in a thin dressing gown not leaving a whole lot to the imagination. He’d told himself all week that it had been a disgusting, degrading thing to do, and that he should just forget about it.

But his mouth became dry every time he replayed the thought of her soft body sinking into his embrace, the way she moaned into his mouth, her hands gripping onto him tightly for support. It was flattery, really, to know that he’d that kind of reaction on a girl. But what of the reaction she’d had on him? Try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about their kiss, or rather, kissing.

He’d thought for sure it was merely lust. She was, after all, a rather attractive witch, considering the pathetic upbringing. Her red hair did things to him, as though he couldn’t see any other color. And she smelled of the flowers his mother kept in their gardens at the Manor.

But she was also nice to him. She’d spared his arse when he’d foolishly fumbled during their presentation. She’d also come to see if he was okay afterwards.

Don’t be such a dunderhead, his conscious reprimanded him sharply. She knows what you are. She just wants more information on you and your kind so she can tell the rest of her do-gooder friends.

The thing that haunted him the most were her eyes. The pools of brown seemed to go on for miles. He could see sincerity in them, but then again, he wasn’t sure what sincerity looked like. He hadn’t seen much of that recently. It could be an act. That’s how she baits you.

The sound of chairs scraping against the floor brought him back to reality. His housemates were going to dance. Right. He was at a ball and that required dancing.

He rose to his feet and offered Astoria his hand. She suddenly didn’t seem as stunning as she did before.

“Would you care to dance?” he asked her.

“Of course,” she breathed, accepting his hand. They danced to a slow song while he told himself over and over again that he should be having a good time. Astoria was a good dancer, clearly having had the same training Draco had had. He tried to look at her and smile, offering small talk as she placed her arms around his neck, pulling her body close to his.

He found Potter and Ginny dancing not too far from them, the two of them smiling at each other as Potter’s hands rested on her waist. Draco forced himself to look away. This is ridiculous.

After the song had ended the band picked up the beat and played something fast paced. There were students jumping around him, girls letting their hair fall down and boys smiling in appreciation at the change in the atmosphere.

“Come now, Draco, you’ve shown that you can certainly dance,” Astoria said, grinning at him mischievously. “Don’t hold back now, the music has ju-”

Whatever she was about to say was interrupted as a loud screech rang in Draco’s ears. His first thoughts were that some mail had arrived, but when this seemed ridiculous, he looked up to find Pansy Parkinson storming towards the two of them.

“You!” Pansy shrieked, pointing a finger at Astoria. Draco had never found Pansy very attractive, but this had to have been her worst moment. Her face was screwed up in anger, her cheeks a blotchy red, and a look in her eyes that could kill.

Astoria looked at Draco in confusion. He returned the puzzled expression.

“You harlot!” Pansy continued screaming, now a mere few feet away from the two of them.

Astoria raised an eyebrow. Draco thought it might fly right out of her head. “I beg your pardon?”

“Pansy, what do you think you are doing?” Draco asked, almost tiredly. A few students around them had stopped dancing to stare at the spectacle.

Pansy tore her gaze from Astoria to him, her breathing sharp and rigid. “How could you bring this…this…manipulating floozy…”

Draco groaned inwardly as Astoria’s eyes widened in fury.

“Why you grotty little pillock, how dare you-” Astoria tried, her fists balled up.

Pansy looked ready to explode.

“Pansy, this is ridiculous,” Draco tried to interject. “I cannot believe you would insult my-”

Pansy jerked her arm back sharply. Draco would’ve thought she was going to hit Astoria when he heard her elbow connect with something before she could do anything further.

“If it isn’t the filthy Weasley girl,” Pansy cackled, looking at who she’d just inadvertently socked.

Ginny Weasley stood with a hand pressed against her left eye, her mouth ajar in horror. Harry stood behind her, frozen in hesitance at the direction the situation had taken.

“You pug-faced, pretentious, bitch,” Ginny spat out, taking her wand out. Harry was suddenly on her, his hands grabbing a hold of her shoulders from behind.

“Ginny, just let it go,” he said quietly. “She’s not worth it.”

There was an even larger crowd around them. Draco could hear whispers among them.

What happened? Did Pansy hit Ginny?

I think Astoria hit Pansy first.

Are they fighting over Draco?

No, they’re fighting over Harry.

Charles Warrington came out of the crowd and gripped Pansy’s elbow. He bent down to whisper something in her ear, but she shook him off.

Astoria, who’d been standing by Draco’s side, suddenly let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, Weasley, that black eye will do just wonders for your complexion.”

Ginny sneered at Astoria, her wand pointing towards the girl.

“Astoria, what are you-” Draco started.

“Did you think I’d forgotten about you, harlot?” Pansy asked, turning towards Astoria once again. Charles snickered behind her.

“Witch fight!” someone yelled from the crowd, followed by laughter and cat calls.

This is absurd, Draco thought. His head was spinning.

“What’s going on?” Professor Snape’s voice bellowed from the crowd. The students frantically dispersed, moving as far away from the squabbling group as possible.

Harry hurriedly led Ginny away, who was glaring daggers at both of the Slytherin girls. Pansy stomped away with Charles at her heels.

“Mr. Malfoy, Miss Greengrass.” Snape nodded at the two of them suspiciously. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Nothing at all, Professor,” Astoria said sweetly, taking Draco’s hand in hers and giving it a rough squeeze.

Snape eyed them suspiciously before disappearing.

When they were alone Astoria laughed, the sound making his ears ring. “Oh, that was brilliant.”

Draco stared at her in disbelief.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said, rubbing his temples. He’d really wanted to say that her behavior had been unbecoming of a lady. Pansy had gone completely mad, but she didn’t need to lash out at Ginny. What those witches will say to each other when provoked…

“Attention, students!” the voice of McGonagall boomed across the hall. Draco found her standing on the stage next to the band. “I will now announce our Winter Beau and Belle.”

The room suddenly quieted down, with only the faint sounds of shuffling feet and rustling robes.

Astoria gripped Draco’s arm casually. She appeared calm and collected - a complete transformation from just a moment earlier.

The students stared at McGonagall in anticipation. Hagrid stood on her left holding a diamond studded crown and Flitwick to her right, holding an equally impressive tiara.

“Our Winter Beau is…” She undid a bound scroll. “Harry Potter!”

The room burst into cheering and a round of applause. Draco scowled.

“Our Winter Belle is Ginevra Weasley!”

The room continued to cheer, but Draco felt Astoria’s grip on him falter slightly.

Draco watched as Harry took Ginny’s hand and led her up to the stage. Hagrid placed the crown atop Potter’s head. He grinned at the crowd. Ginny had to lower her head for Flitwick to place the tiara on her. Her cheeks were tinged pink in embarrassment and she gave everyone a small smile. She looked uncomfortable and fidgeted with her ponytail.

Well, this is revolting, Draco thought, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, mate, we’re going back to the dungeons to get ready for the party,” Blaise said, tapping him on the shoulder.

“I need to get out of here,” Draco said. He was about to follow Blaise out of the Hall when he noticed something glinting by his feet. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a girl’s golden bracelet. He recognized it as the one Ginny was wearing. He pocketed it in his robes.

This may come in handy, he thought with a smirk.

Ginny was having a good time at the ball. She and Harry had danced, had their photograph taken, and laughed at Neville’s feeble attempts to teach his date to dance.

Apollo’s Dream was even better in person than they were on the wireless. It was a band of three wizards, each one of them just a few years out of Hogwarts.

The lead singer, Rusty Canto, performed a Sonorus charm to project his voice. “Hello, Hogwarts!”

He received a loud cheer from the crowd.

“Our next number is inspired by a Muggle band.”

The crowd looked at each other expectantly, not sure if this was a good thing.

“I know what you’re thinking, but hear us out! This is Fighting For My Love.”

Many times I tried to talk to let you know someday I'd walk
In me you found a drug an addiction to my love
I could swear I let you know I tried one day to let you go
You fight me all along
Yes you're fighting for my love

The students seemed to like it and resumed their dancing.

“I’m having a really good time, Gin,” Harry said, his arms resting on her hips as they danced. His eyes twinkled.

“Me too, Harry,” she said. She couldn’t help but to blush. He looked very handsome tonight and it reminded her of the crush she used to have on him. Harry had been the source of warm feelings that had filled a void in her life.

But now she didn’t want anything more than to be his friend.

Her eyes swept across the Hall as she took in all the students, dressed in beautiful robes, and their faces bright and shining.

She spotted Draco Malfoy dancing with Astoria Greengrass not too far away. She felt a tingling sensation as she took Draco’s appearance. He looked utterly…what’s the word? Delicious?

Ginny immediately flushed in embarrassment at the thought.

“Would you like a drink?” Harry asked her.

“Yes, that would be lovely,” she said. They had danced quite a bit and her mouth was parched. They headed towards the refreshments where a group of students had assembled.

I guess everyone needs a break as well.

It wasn’t until Harry had poured the two of them drinks that she heard shouting.

“Pansy, this is ridiculous.” She recognized Draco’s voice. “I cannot believe you would insult my-”

Ginny suddenly felt a throbbing pain in her left eye and she was thrown back slightly. What in Merlin's...

Harry grabbed onto her arms to steady her. “Ginny, are you all right?”

She was too stunned to respond and instead looked up at Pansy Parkinson, who was staring at her with her mouth hung open in amusement. Draco stood a few feet away from her, his lips thin and his face red. Astoria had a hand covering her mouth, in shock or delight, Ginny didn’t know.

Pansy laughed wickedly. “If it isn’t the filthy Weasley girl.”

Ginny’s blood boiled. She began to tremble slightly and Harry released his grip on her.

“You pug-faced, pretentious, bitch.” Ginny fumed, taking her wand out and pointing it directly at Pansy. The girl flinched a little, but kept her gaze on Ginny steady.

Astoria laughed unkindly.

Harry was back, holding onto her shoulders to restrain her. “Ginny, just let it go. She’s not worth it.”

Ginny wanted to glare at him.

“Oh, Weasley, that black eye will do just wonders for your complexion.”

She jerked her wand towards Astoria. What a horrible, horrible, wench!

Draco looked alarmed and uncomfortable.

“Snape’s coming,” Harry hissed in her ear. She lowered her wand with reluctance and heard Pansy direct an insult at Astoria. She allowed Harry to lead her away.

When they’d managed to separate themselves from the crowd, Ginny let out an un-lady like cry of frustration.

“How’s your eye?” Harry asked, concerned.

“It feels all right, but how does it look?” she asked.

“A little swollen,” he said, taking his wand out. “Here, let me.” Harry murmured a spell with his wand pointing towards the corner of her eye. She couldn’t help but to flinch slightly.

He gave her a small smile. “Good as new.”

“Thanks, Harry.” She smiled back at him. Oh, why can’t I just still be madly in love with him? He’s so good to me.

He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully before speaking. “Hey, Ginny, I understand if you want to leave early.”

She was about to open her mouth to say something, but he flushed and quickly added, “What I meant was that…the…incident…and perhaps you just wanted to…for your sake…”

Ginny laughed. “Harry Potter, you’re so…”

He looked at her hopefully, his green eyes boring into hers.

“Sweet,” she finished. “I’m fine, really.”

He squeezed her hand gently.

They noticed McGonagall descend the stage as the band finished up a number.

“Attention students! I will now announce our Winter Beau and Belle.”

When she called Harry’s name, Ginny couldn’t help but to laugh when he let out a groan. She waved him off as he headed towards the stage. He walked awkwardly towards McGonagall who gave him a smile.

Ginny wasn’t expecting her own name to be called at all. She thought she’d misheard the announcement, but then she began to feel arms pulling her forward and heard shouts that sounded awfully like, “Go, Ginny!”

She could feel her face turning red and she wished she’d left her hair down to curtain her face.

She stood next to Harry as he gave her an amused wink. The cheering of the students sounded like an ambiguous rush of air. Flitwick stood in front of her holding a diamond studded tiara. She bent over for him to place it on her head and forced herself to look up at the crowd.

Ginny saw many things in the crowd of Hogwarts students. She saw Parvati and Padma Patil pointing at her and Harry excitedly, Ron attempting to appear nonchalant with a smile twitching on his face while Lavender clutched his arm tightly, a gaggle of second year girls giggling at Harry, and Dean scowling at her as he tightened his hold on his date, an unfamiliar Hufflepuff girl. But what she noticed most, and tried not to stare at much either, was Draco Malfoy’s pompous sneer as he stared at her and Harry as though they were court jesters.

She wasn’t sure why, but his expression created a clenching sensation in her stomach. Her face felt warm and her throat became dry.

Ginny was about to look away when she noticed Blaise Zabini approach him. He whispered something in his ear and Draco nodded. When Blaise left, Draco made as though to follow him, but something had caught his eye. She watched him bend over to pick up something shiny. Her eyes immediately went to her wrist, which was naked.

That’s my bracelet.

She suddenly felt Harry take her hand and lead her down the stage. They were expected to lead a dance together. When she tried to look for Draco again, he’d disappeared.

But I need my bracelet! He took it!

Her dance with Harry went by in a blur and all she could think of was Draco Malfoy and her bracelet. She didn’t want to worry Harry over the issue. She had a feeling he’d want to take an entirely different approach in retrieving her bracelet, one that called for violence.

When the ball began to slow down, she and Harry left together. He headed towards the Gryffindor tower, expecting her to follow.

“Hey Ginny, you coming?” he asked.

“Er…” she paused, wondering what excuse she could make. She needed to find Draco right away. “I’m feeling a bit dizzy. I think I may stop to see Madam Pomfrey before I retire for the night.”

Harry looked worried. “Would you like me to come with you?”

“No, no, please don’t,” she said, trying not to sound panicked. “I’ll be fine.”

He knit his brows together. “Well, okay. I hope you feel better.”

Ginny walked towards him and clasped their hands together. “Thank you for a lovely time, Harry.” He blinked at her, his face slightly pink. She knew that he wanted to kiss her, but she couldn’t bring herself to allow it. She let go of his hands and headed in the opposite direction, waiting for his footsteps to recede before sprinting towards the Slytherin dungeons.

When Ginny neared the dungeons she was met with faint music echoing down the hallway. What on earth…

She hurried her pace and stood in front of the entrance, seeing no visible means of getting in. Loud music blared from the other side and she could hear laughter and cheering as well. Slytherins, she thought, rolling her eyes.

She heard what sounded like a door sliding open and quickly ducked behind a stone pillar. A boy and girl stumbled out, clutching onto each other like hungry wolves. Before the door could shut, Ginny slipped inside. Her mouth dropped open.

She had never been inside the Slytherin dungeons, nor had anyone else she knew. She could only imagine as to what it was like, and clearly her imagination was off. The room was barely lit with sparks from wand tips flitting back and forth across the room, giving the horde of students dancing in the Common Room an eerie glow. There was no way all these students were Slytherin. She did a double take as she spotted Rusty Canto dancing amid the frenzy.

Okay, you’re here on a mission. Where’s Draco?

Ginny made her way through the dancing students, getting shoved back and forth in the process. At one point she felt someone grab her arse, and she slapped whoever it was without even looking at them. It seemed like she would never make it through the endless barrage of students. When she finally made it to the other side of the room, someone tapped her shoulder. She turned around to find Blaise Zabini glaring at her.

“What are you doing in here?” he shouted at her, so as to be heard over the music.

“Have you seen Malfoy?” she shouted back.

His expression darkened, even though she could make out the faint trace of a smile on his chiseled face.

“And why should I tell you that?”

Ginny was tired, hot, and her feet ached from dancing. She took her wand out and pointed it at him. “Look, you’re going to tell me right now, or I’m going to hex you onto the back of a hippogriff flying towards Romania.”

He blinked at her. “Quite the temper, isn’t it, Weasley?”

She raised her wand higher so that it was pointing at his forehead.

“He’s behind you.”

She whirled around to find nobody that remotely resembled Draco Malfoy standing there. When she turned back around, Blaise had disappeared. Argh!

Ginny pocketed her wand, ready to give up and head back to the tower. Someone grabbed her elbow and turned her around.

“What’s a nasty little Gryffindor doing on our turf?” A tall, disgusting boy with long black hair leered at her.

She tried to shake him off. “Get off of me!”

He only held on tighter. “I only assume you’re trying to crash our party. In that case, you should be dancing, princess.” He grabbed both her arms and dragged her towards the dancing students. She was unable to reach for her wand.

“Stop, let go of me!” she shouted, dragging her feet across the ground.

“Bletchley, let go of the girl,” a voice said, stopping both of them in their tracks.

It was Draco. He was staring at the boy with blazing eyes, his expression hard. “I’ll dispose of her myself. We don’t need the likes of her in here.”

Bletchley sneered at Draco before releasing Ginny. She rubbed her arms as though she were suffering from a Blast-Ended Skrewt burn.

“What are you doing in here?” Draco asked, his face had softened, but it was still unreadable.

“You have my bracelet,” she said, trying to glare at him but ultimately failing.

He said nothing for a moment as his eyes bore into hers. “You shouldn’t have come in here uninvited, especially with that thing on your head.”

Her hands immediately went upward and felt the tiara. She’d forgotten she was still wearing it. She blushed in embarrassment.

“I’ll go get it.”

“I’m not staying here by myself another moment,” she said, shivering.

“Well it’s in my room.”

Ginny blushed again.

He sighed. “Okay, we’ll be really quick.”

She followed him towards his room, her heart racing each step of the way. I’m going to Draco Malfoy’s room with him! What am I doing?

The dormitory looked like those in Gryffindor, except everything was green. She was about to express this thought to Draco and then thought better of it. He had a poster of the Falmouth Falcons Quidditch team next to his bed. The rest of his side of the room was as unreadable as him.

She watched him open a drawer in his nightstand and take her bracelet out.

He handed it back to her. She was suddenly aware that he’d been cold to her since he’d rescued her from Bletchley. “I would’ve given it back to you the next time I’d seen you. I wasn’t intending to steal it.”

She nodded as she slipped it back onto her wrist. “It was my mother’s. I just wanted it back.”

They walked out of the room in silence. The sound of the music engulfed them once again. He paused before entering the Common Room. “You’re eye looks better.”

She looked up at him. “Er..yeah. Magic…healing charm.”

Ginny’s heart was beating loudly. He’s so handsome.

They stared at each other for a moment, standing by a window. The moonlight reflected off of Draco’s face and did crazy things to Ginny’s senses.

“Are Pansy…or Astoria…or whomever it was you took to the ball okay?” she asked, for the sake of saying something. They could be drowning in the Black Lake for all she could care.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a ghostly smile on his lips. “I assume they’re fine.”

“I don’t care much for your choice in dates.”

His eyes danced with amusement. “And why should you care either way?”

She shrugged.

And suddenly he was kissing her, his arms yanking her close to him. His actions caught her by surprise, but she didn’t dare resist. In fact, she threw her arms around him and returned the kiss. It was fierce, competitive, and oh so hot. She heard him fumbling with a door handle as he led them into what appeared to be a small, darkened study, his face never leaving hers for a moment.

He backed her up onto a desk against a wall as his lips trailed across her face. She felt as though she were on fire. He rested his hands on her hips, his gentle massaging contradicting the neediness of his kisses. She gasped as she felt his teeth nip at her neck and she gripped his shoulders tightly.

“You’re so…gorgeous,” she heard him murmur against her skin. His hands moved up her body painstakingly slow and each caress gave her the shivers. He finally came to her breasts and gently squeezed them through the fabric of her robes.

She moaned softly, pulling his head up to meet her lips. The kiss was searing hot and she thought she was going to explode. He was leaning into her and she could feel his hardness against her legs. Draco continued to stroke her breasts, allowing his thumbs to graze the center of each. She bit back another moan.

“Don’t do that,” he whispered. “I want to hear you.”

A voice in Ginny’s head told her she was doing something utterly wrong. But she didn’t care. She wanted him so badly…

His lips returned to her neck, trailing down to her collarbone, and then to the skin exposed by the low neckline of her robes. His breath tickled her skin and she arched into his touch, gasping. She threaded her fingers through his feathery soft hair.

“Oh, Draco,” she whispered. She took one of his hands and guided it inside her robes so that it rested just above her chest.

He stared at her for a moment. She nodded, as if him urging him to move forward.

“I can’t,” he said, removing his hand.

“But I want you to,” she said, almost pleading.

“I know, and believe me, I do as well, but I just can’t.”

Ginny was stunned. Surely Draco Malfoy had touched many women this way.

“I’m not an animal,” he said, not looking her in the eye. “And neither are you.”

She took his face in her hands and kissed him long and hard. They were both breathless when the kiss ended.

“I don’t mean to offend you,” he said, panting. His hands were resting on her thighs as he gently caressed the fabric of her robes. His eyes were pools of silver that seemed to go on forever.

“You haven’t,” she said.

They were quiet for a moment before she spoke up again. “Draco, what is this? What are we doing?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. It’s horribly wrong and foolish of us on so many levels.” He moved away from the desk and stared at the ceiling for a long moment before continuing. "You know what I am. We're too different. And you know that anything between us would be out of the question."

Ginny's heart sank. "But I don't care," she blurted out.

Draco laughed sadly. "Of course you do."

Ginny hopped down from the desk to wrap her arms around him, her forehead resting against his back. "I need this."

He stiffened. "You don't understand," he said quietly. He shook her arms off of him and moved away from her, his eyes taking on a hollow look. "I'm a Death Eater! Don't you know what that means? It means I'm going to kill people!"

Ginny bit back a sob and shook her head furiously. "You can't. I know you-"

Draco's eyes widened. "You think you know me? You don't know anything about me."

Ginny swallowed. "I know you d-don't really want this. You want people to think you do, but really...you're just a boy who's been forced to grow up the hard way."

He groaned in frustration. "It doesn't matter what I want. I don't have a choice. In fact, I don't have any choices."

"Then let me help you make at least one choice. Take a chance on...this." She motioned to the both of them.

His expression softened and Ginny felt elated. "Why do you want this anyway?" he asked.

Ginny moved towards him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "You aggravate me. You frustrate me. You make me want to pull out my hair."

"I thought I asked why you wanted this." He scowled.

"And yet I'm drawn to you for some reason. We're really not that different, you and I."

He opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off. "But Draco, do you want this?"

Ginny began to worry that all he'd really wanted was a good snog or two.

Draco was silent for a moment. "I..."

Ginny's face fell.

"You do things to me," he said. "I can't explain. It's your bloody persistence, that's what it is. You won't bugger off and leave me alone. You're just...ready to smile and accept me despite who I am."

She smiled.

"I can't promise you anything," he continued. "I can't give you a perfect, wholesome, fairy tale. You're going to get hurt."

"I never asked for promises or a perfect, wholesome, fairy tale."

He rubbed his face with both hands tiredly. "So what do we do now?"

She slid her hands up his chest to entangle her fingers in his hair. Their faces were inches apart. She kissed him.

Draco woke on Monday morning with a groan. It had little to do with the fact that he’d slept in, and more to do with his weekend occurrences. He’d spent the entire Sunday holed up in the Slytherin dungeons under the pretense of studying for their midterm examinations. Of course, that’s what he really should’ve been doing any way.

Unfortunately, his mind kept wandering back to the red-haired girl who’d kissed him goodnight on Saturday.

As he sat in the Common Room that Sunday, which was so spotless, one would never have guessed a party had occurred the night before, he found that his feet would not remain still. He would pace the room, much to the annoyance of other students attempting to study in there, head towards the exit, and then pull himself back to his secluded table and chair to “read”. He wanted to see her. But how? It wasn’t as though he could hold a Gryffindor at wandpoint and force his way into their disgusting tower to find her…but perhaps that wasn’t such a bad idea…

You should be studying!

I know…but I’m the brightest wizard in school…some down time can’t hurt me, can it?

This was ridiculous. What were the two of them, anyhow? Were they dating? That sounded silly. Of course they weren’t “dating”; he couldn’t even be seen speaking to her in public, let alone making googly eyes with her at Madam Pudifoot’s Tearoom. He shuddered at the thought.

Well, they weren’t just friends either. First of all, Draco didn’t have friends. He had acquaintances, cohorts, and minions, he thought smugly, but not friends. Well, perhaps Blaise constituted as a partial friend, but that was just barely. Secondly, she wasn’t a friend if he wanted to touch her in ways that would push his mother into a premature grave.

So by nightfall on Sunday, Draco hadn’t accomplished little much of anything.

He lay awake in his bed that night, continuing his mental struggle. I wonder what she’s doing right now…and with a last lingering image of the red-haired temptress, he dozed off into a dreamless sleep.

But sleep hadn’t resolved anything. He was still left with a sense of anxiety.

What were you thinking! You can’t be involved with somebody right now! Especially someone like her.

He knew his conscience was right. What would Ginny say if she knew what he had to do?

This can never go anywhere…so why bother?

Because I need something to hold me together right now. And she does that.

He felt the makings of a smile creeping along his face and he jumped out of bed with a little more bounce than was necessary.

He dressed quickly and headed towards the Great Hall for breakfast. Now don’t be obvious; don’t stare at the Gryffindor table right away. You don’t want people to notice, nor do you want her to think you’re eager.

Draco forced himself to become preoccupied with his fingernails as he slid into his usual seat at the Slytherin table. He was about to sneak a glance at her table when Blaise Zabini plopped down in front of him, obstructing his view.

“What a weekend, yeah?” he said.

Draco sighed inwardly. “I guess.”

“We did a good job with the party. The Ravenclaws that were in attendance are still talking about it.”

Draco began to eat from his porridge. “There were Ravenclaws there?” he asked absently.

“Well surely you didn’t think all those people were from Slytherin? We had a huge turnout. In fact, I think I saw a Gryffindor or two.”

Draco knew Blaise well enough to know what he was trying to do. He had to handle his response carefully, so he did what Draco Malfoy would ordinarily do whenever anything about Gryffindors was brought up in conversation. He sneered. “That’s disgusting.”

Blaise held his gaze for a moment before nodding slowly in agreement. “How are things with you and Astoria?”

“Nonexistent.”

“That’s a shame. And she’s quite the looker.”

Draco shrugged.

“So the whole school has been whispering about the brawl the three ladies had over you.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t over me, you dolt. And it was hardly a brawl.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” He smirked.

“Pansy lashed out at my date, some choice words were exchanged, and a Gryffindor girl was inadvertently dragged into the tussle.”

“A Gryffindor girl, or the Gryffindor girl?”

Draco scowled. “What are you on about, Zabini? You’ve been awfully out of sorts since you sat down here.”

“Come now, Draco,” Blaise said, lowering his voice so that none of the other housemates could hear them. “The Gryffindor girl happens to wind up at our party seeking you out. And whether you mean to or not, I can tell you’re trying your hardest to look past my head in the very direction she’s sitting.”

“Bollocks,” Draco said nonchalantly. “I haven’t the faintest idea of whom you’re speaking of. I think you’re merely bored and you’re trying to create a story that doesn’t exist.”

Blaise shrugged.

Draco wanted to hit him. How dare he! Who was Blaise Zabini anyway? What gave him the right to make all these observations and assumptions?

“If you bring up anything more about that tawdry, sorry excuse for a house, I will ruin you, mark my words,” Draco said quietly, glaring daggers at him.

Blaise didn’t even blink. He coolly stabbed a piece of bacon with a fork and resumed eating. “Just having some fun, mate.”

When Draco left the Great Hall he headed towards the Room of Requirement. Taking care to make sure no one was following him, he swiftly entered the secret room. Seeing the Vanishing Cabinet always gave Draco a mixed sense of excitement and apprehension. He knew every spell he cast to repair the damnable artifact was a step closer to completing his task. But then what? He knew very well what the purpose of the cabinet was. What would happen to the school? To him? To the even bigger mission planned for him? It was all fine and dandy to be working alone in a cluttered room on a project he didn’t see to be resolved anytime soon. But when soon did arrive, he would have to come to terms with all his initial worries.

After prodding with the cabinet for an hour, Draco gave up. He sat on a dusty pile of books, staring around the room absently. The bust of a statue lay next to him. He wouldn’t have noticed it were it not for the cobweb laden tiara atop its crown. What a peculiar headpiece, he thought. The jewels on the headpiece cast an odd assortment of lights that refracted across the room. The cabinet itself was doused in an eerie red glow as it sat in frustrating silence, unwilling to unleash the magic it was meant to contain.

He rolled up his left sleeve and stared at the ugly tattoo on his white skin. He traced a finger along the skull and serpent and shuddered. Such a hideous brand, he thought. I’m hideous.

“The time has come for you to become one of us, Draco,” the Dark Lord said, hissing. They were standing in the old Muggle house once again. Draco suddenly noticed something lurking in the shadows. He jumped.

“Do not be alarmed. That is Nagini.”

A large snake emerged and wrapped its revolting self around the Dark Lord’s shoulders.

The Dark Lord laughed at Draco’s discomfort. “I am from the Slytherin house. What other creature would I keep in my company?”

Draco wasn’t meant to answer, so he didn’t.

“Are you ready?”

Draco shook slightly and nodded.

“Answer me.”

“Yes, my Lord.” He bowed his head, still shaking. Why are you so nervous? This is everything your family has hoped for; you should be reveling in this glorious moment! He tried to comfort himself.

He wished his father was there. He needed him to stand there with him.

The Dark Lord now stood a few mere inches away from him now. Draco could see his white face and flinched. A shadow crossed the Dark Lord’s face and his red eyes burned into Draco’s. He could feel his left sleeve being forced back and the prick of a wand pushing into his forearm. Draco’s heart beat wildly. This is it.

He could hear the Dark Lord murmuring something and then pain overtook him. He screamed and then all went black.

Draco’s whole body felt tired all of a sudden. He needed a break.

He wasn’t sure where he was heading, and yet, he knew exactly where he wanted to be. The Qudditch pitch was covered in a blanket of snow. He must be mad to be out here in the dead of winter. His green scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck and his ears burned slightly.

He could make out small footprints in the snow, which remained undisturbed otherwise. Sure enough, a figure could be seen running the perimeter of the field. He waited for her to complete her lap and approach him.

Ginny wore a bulky maroon and gold sweatshirt and sweatpants. A pair of earmuffs framed her flushed face and gloved hands rubbed her cheeks vigorously.

“What a rush!” she exclaimed, rocking back and forth on her feet.

“Are you mad?” he asked, stunned that anyone would want to run around in the snow.

“I feel so…alive,” she said, gasping from the biting cold air. She twirled around with her arms outstretched. “You should try it sometime, Draco.”

“No thank you,” he mumbled.

“Why did you come out here?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged. He’d hoped she wouldn’t ask him because he didn’t really have an answer.

“It is a bit cold though, isn’t it? It wasn’t a big deal while I was actually run-”

He cupped her face with his own gloved hands and kissed her gently. Her lips were cold and her breath icy as it tickled him. She covered his hands with her own, as though to encourage him.

When they broke away, she merely looked at him with a small smile on her face. She looked beautiful. The white snow was a stark contrast to her brilliant red hair, which was tied into a ponytail behind her head. She was cold, and yet radiated warmth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and jumped, yes, jumped, on him, throwing her legs around his waist until he was forced to fall backwards into the snow, taking her down with him.

He wanted to get angry, protest, and yell, but instead, he allowed her to kiss him back as she pushed him further into the snow. He was wet and cold, but he didn’t care. He rolled her over as she laughed and the sound echoed across the empty Quidditch field. Her wild red hair had blown loose from its ponytail and whipped about her face in the winter breeze. The corner of his lips twitched.

“Draco Malfoy,” she said pleasantly, brushing snow out of his hair. “Is that a smile?”

“Perhaps.”

She kissed him again. She was soft and sweet and he felt lightheaded.

They lay in the snow for a few moments, side by side, staring at the sky above them.

“I wanted to you to kiss me when you were healing my ankle the last time we were out here,” Ginny said.

“I know I’m quite the impressive figure in my Quidditch robes.”

“It just wasn’t that,” she said, without laughing. “You were so human then. You could’ve left me, but you didn’t.”

She rolled onto her side so that she was facing her. Her eyes danced mischievously.
“But yes, your robes had something to do with it as well.”

He grinned to himself. He wasn’t ready to admit to Ginny that he’d felt the urge to kiss her that day as well.

“What are we doing here, like this?” he asked, and his smile began to fade.

“Having fun, I think,” she said.

“It’s all so wrong.”

“Maybe.”

He turned to face her with an eyebrow quirked. “What do you mean, ‘maybe’? Of course this is wrong. The both of us would be in more trouble than either of us could imagine if the wrong people found out.”

She remained unfazed. “It doesn’t feel wrong though, you know?”

He was quiet.

“I mean, I’m laying out here in the snow with you, and all I can think about is this moment. This moment doesn’t have to do with Harry, Ron, my family, or even Dumbledore.”

“What would happen if others found out?”

It was her turn to be quiet. The breeze was beginning to pick up and the wind whistled around them.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “But what we’re doing is unpredictable and without a clear road. I don’t have any answers for you and I don’t expect you to have any either.”

There was quiet once more. The wind was getting stronger.

“If y-you want out of…this, then I’ll u-understand,” she said, chattering against the cold.

He pulled her over him and felt her red waves surround his every being. Her cheeks were reddening, from the cold or his touch, he didn’t know. She looked at him, hopeful and content. He felt very warm. “No, I want this…whatever it is.” And he kissed her.

Ginny stared at herself in the mirror. She tugged at her red hair, twisting it into a bun and then letting it fall back over her shoulders. She leaned across the dresser and peered at her reflection, tracing the underside of her right eyebrow.

I’m so plain. My hair is dull and boring. My eyes are too large and my lips too thin. My shoulders are too broad...like Charlie’s.

She hadn’t cared about her appearance too much before. She often looked as though she’d just jumped out of bed. She would roll her eyes at the girls who would use long periods of time to charm their hair and makeup.

But things were different now.

I have a boy to look nice for. A goofy grin spread across her face at the thought.

She’d dated boys before, but again, it hadn’t bothered her then. Seeing Draco Malfoy constantly dressed to impress, and acting as though it came to him with such ease, was slightly intimidating.

Ginny sucked in her cheeks slightly. I almost look classy.

She relaxed her face. It was no use. She didn’t know how to look pretty. And she certainly wasn’t going to ask one of her housemates for advice. The gossip mongers would ask too many questions.

She sighed and headed downstairs into the Common Room where the familiar voices of Harry, Ron, and Hermione could be heard.

“I just don’t understand,” Harry was saying, sitting on a couch next to Ron. “I can never see him on it anymore. It’s as though he’s just disap-”

The three of them turned to stare at Ginny. Hermione was sitting in an armchair with a Potions textbook. “Hello, Ginny.”

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked, shoving Ron over to take a seat next to him.

Ron screwed his face up, as though the question were too difficult for him to answer.

“Just the usual,” Hermione said smoothly, her eyes never leaving the textbook.

Ginny sighed inwardly. Always the outsider.

“Hey, Ginny,” Harry asked thoughtfully.

She peered around Ron to look at him in response.

“You have Muggle Studies with Malfoy, don’t you?”

Ginny’s heart skipped a beat. Did he know something? It’s okay…play it cool.

She rolled her eyes. “You needn’t remind me.”

Harry gave her a sympathetic smile. “Does he behave unusually in any way?”

If by ‘unusual’ you mean deliciously sexy. Ginny’s heart resumed beating. Of course! Harry had been obsessing over Draco since the start of the term.

She shook her head. “No. Why do you ask?”

“Harry thinks Malfoy’s up to something,” Ron said, sinking back into the couch.

“And you don’t?” Ginny asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

Ron looked at Harry awkwardly. “Well, I think we need more evidence…”

Harry scowled at him.

“How did your presentation go with him?” Hermione asked, looking over the edge of her book.

“It was okay. He finally pulled his weight in and we received high marks on the assignment.”

“I still don’t understand why he’s taking the class.” Hermione bit her lip in thought.

Come to think of it, Ginny didn’t know either. She really didn’t know much about Draco. You know he has really nice arms…

“He probably failed something,” Ron said. “I bet it was Care of Magical Creatures.”

“See, I don’t think so,” Hermione said, closing her book. “Malfoy is actually quite clever.”

Both Ron and Harry gaped at her.

She waved both of them off. “He’s second in our year. Not too far behind me.” She blushed.

“Won-Won!” Lavender Brown’s voice echoed throughout the Common Room as the blonde girl burst in and threw her arms around Ron’s neck from behind, nearly dragging him off the couch. He looked thoroughly embarrassed.

Harry disguised a laugh as a cough and Hermione stiffened. Ginny, not wanting to see her brother’s girlfriend manhandling him, excused herself and left the Gryffindor Tower.

She headed towards the library, hoping to utilize the time for studying. She found a table to herself and immersed herself in her History of Magic textbook.

She’d only been reading for a few minutes when she recognized the sound of Draco’s voice not too far away. She straightened up and strained her ears.

“That essay is due tomorrow. What do you mean you haven’t done anything yet?” Draco’s voice echoed impatiently.

A second voice grunted incoherently in response.

“I swear,” Draco said, “sometimes I wonder how I put up with you and Goyle.”

She could hear them getting closer and didn’t want to be caught looking at him, so she forced herself to stare at the words in her book that were quickly becoming a blur.

When Draco and Crabbe walked by her table, Ginny snuck the briefest of glances at him. Ginny wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Obviously he couldn’t wave at her. Even a nod would’ve been risky. But she had hoped he would’ve at least looked at her. Instead he had walked by the table without even acknowledging it or her.

She sighed and resigned herself to staring at the blur of words in front of her once more.

Don’t be such a girl. You knew what you were getting into. And why are you getting so attached?

A whirring sound caught her attention. A paper dragon flew in front of her face and hovered in midair. The dragon’s wings flapped unsteadily in an attempt to keep itself upright. She grabbed for the peculiar creation and once her fingers grazed the paper, it unfolded into a piece of parchment and fluttered onto the table. Her heart beat rapidly as she recognized Draco’s neat penmanship.

Just thought I’d say hello.

Ginny felt her heart catch in her throat. A small smile played on her lips as she reluctantly cast a spell to disintegrate the note.

Ginny finished reading and began to head out of the library. She caught sight of Draco sitting carelessly on the floor in-between two bookshelves. There were books strewn about him as he flipped through a thick volume, his face concealed by his blond hair. She looked around to make sure no one was nearby and made her way towards him.

He looked up at the sound of her footsteps. Once again, she fooled herself into thinking he’d be pleased to see her, but instead his expression remained blank.

“What are you doing?” he hissed, looking around warily.

“You’re sitting among old historical records,” she said simply. “Nobody ever comes by here.”

He seemed to relax slightly as he slammed the book he was reading shut, but he gave no indication of inviting her to join him. She took a seat across from him, casually looking at the books scattered around him.

“What are you reading up on?”

“Just stuff.” He still appeared reserved.

She picked up one book, but he snatched it from her.

“Don’t,” he said, almost maliciously. He held the book against himself possessively and his expression became hard.

Ginny remained unfazed and shrugged. “Thank you for the note. That paper dragon was really clever.”

There was a trace of a smile on his face as he held his chin up haughtily. “What note?”

Oh how she wanted to take his lips into her own. She loved it when he was snarky with her.

“Well, I don’t expect you to share your reading material with me, and I can see you’re busy.” She rose to her feet.

He looked hesitant, as if deliberating something. “Wait.”

She stared at him pointedly.

“It’s a record of British casualties during the Second Great Muggle War.” He said it too quickly, as though it would’ve been too painful to have drawn it out. He stared at the book in his hands and refused to meet her eyes.

Ginny was taken aback. Why would he be reading about that? But she could tell he’d struggled with revealing this information to her, so she attempted to mask her disbelief.

He sighed. “There were quite a few Wizards that perished during the air raids.”

Ginny sank back to her feet. I know.

“There’s a Malfoy and a Black in here.” He opened the book and flipped through the pages to find the records. “In fact, I think I even saw a-”

“A Prewett.”

He met her gaze and a deafening quiet filled the air.

“He was my great-grandfather.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged.

Another silence.

“Which of your ancestors are on the list?” she asked, more for the sake of filling the awkward moment between them. The subject made her feel uncomfortable.

“Cyngus Black I was my great-great-grandfather. And my great-uncle, Adrian Malfoy also died.”

Ginny didn’t know what to say so she looked at the other books around him. “What are all those?”

He blushed slightly. “I like reading Muggle history. It’s interesting to see how they explain magical occurrences and how some of our people pass off as their kind.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and she stifled a giggle.

“Go on, have your laugh,” he said.

“Why would I laugh?” she said, covering her lips with her fingertips in an attempt to conceal a smile. Her eyes danced with humor.

He rolled his eyes.

She scooted closer to him so that she was sitting a few inches away, their knees almost touching, and her back pressed against a bookshelf. She reached for a book. “May I?”

He hesitated for a moment before picking up the book himself. “I want to show you something.”

Ginny watched him flip through the book. His hair had fallen into his eyes and his determination with the book kept him from brushing it back. Her heart thudded in her chest.

“Here,” he said, trying his best not to sound too excited. He stopped at a page with a photograph of two unfamiliar men shaking hands. One was obviously a wizard, wearing old-fashioned robes and a bowler hat, quite similar to the one Cornelius Fudge would wear. The two men briefly turned to stare at the camera. The wizard had a small smile on his face as he clapped his companion on the back. The other man, balding and dressed in Muggle clothing, tightened his lips and raised his chin.

“Who are they?” she asked without bothering to read the caption.

“The wizard is the Minister of Magic, Magnus Cavanaugh. The Muggle is the English prime minister, Winston Churchill.”

Ginny nodded thoughtfully. She’d always found it intriguing how every Minister of Magic was expected to introduce themselves to the Muggle ministers. It must be quite an announcement to hear, she thought. She wondered what they would say. Hello there, I’m a wizard…and I err…have magic?

“They met because of the Second Great Muggle War. Churchill wanted to inform Cavanaugh that Britain was under attack.”

“We didn’t…participate in the war, did we?” Ginny asked incredulously.

Draco’s cheeks tinged pink slightly. He seemed pleased by Ginny’s interest. “We did. Well, some wizards volunteered their services to the British military.”

Ginny looked horrified.

“They didn’t use magic or anything. They fought like Muggles.”

“But why?”

“If you read up on Adolf Hitler you’ll find that he was quite the bigot. He refused to meet with the German Minister of Magic and actually told him to get lost or the Nazis would hunt down and kill every last wizard. A few German wizards perished in the concentration camps. And if he moved into Britain…”

“I had no idea,” Ginny whispered.

She noticed he was blushing even more as he turned his head away from her. She placed a hand on his elbow.

“Draco, why do you read all this?”

He didn’t respond at first and refused to meet her eye. “I don’t know. I just like history, I suppose.”

“Even Muggle history?”

He turned to stare at her, his eyes narrowed. “It’s not just Muggle history. This is our history as well. Those foolish Muggles and their foolish weapons...”

“Wizards can be foolish as well,” she said, her voice rising slightly as she released his elbow.

“Not this again.” He groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t understand,” Ginny said, looking him in the eye. “So you like reading up on all the nasty things Muggles have done to their own kind and to wizards as well. You even talk about Adolf Hitler like he’s vermin. And yet you fail to accept the fact that there’s bad wizards who do terrible things to their own kind, as well as to Muggles, and who follow behind an equally bad leader.”

“I’m not going to talk to you about this,” he gritted through his teeth. He looked menacing, like the time he cornered her in the broom closet.

Ginny sighed. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just don’t…get it.”

“There’s nothing to get,” he said, collecting the books together. “I simply wanted to share something with you and it becomes a big deal.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off, pointing at her with the corner of a book. “You knew whatever we were getting ourselves into wasn’t going to be easy. You knew I wasn’t going to be like Saint Potter and save the world. There is a part of my life you can never be a part of because you will never understand it. You just need to accept that or leave.”

He nearly spat the last few words out.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. Her apology seemed to surprise him. “And you’re right; I do know all those things. That’s why I’m sitting here right now.”

There was an awkward silence between them. Ginny noticed a book next to her and she was about to hand it to him when the title caught her attention.

Winston and Clementine: The Personal Letters of the Churchills*

“What’s this?” she asked. There was something odd about the book. The cover featured a photograph of an elderly couple holding hands. It took her a moment to realize they weren’t moving, as was characteristic of all wizard photographs. It was a Muggle book.

“It’s not from this library,” he said, blushing once again. He took the book from her and pocketed it in his robes.

“Tell me.” She liked this side of Draco. It was…different. He thought he came off as weak and vulnerable, when in reality, Ginny was drawn towards his humanism. Truth be told, she found him the most attractive this way.

“No, it’s nothing,” he mumbled while absently straightening the stack of books in front of him.

She took one of his hands intertwined it in hers. “Of all the Dracos you can be, I want to know this one.”

He stared at her for a moment, as if searching for her sincerity. “Winston Churchill is the Muggle prime minister I told you about,” he began. “And Clementine is his wife.”

“And?”

“And the book includes letters exchanged between the two of them.”

“Love letters?” she asked this with the straightest of faces, but she was struggling to keep her mouth from quivering into a smile.

He made a face at her. “Yes, some.”

“Why, Draco Malfoy! You’re a romantic sap after all.”

He furrowed his brow and frowned. “If that’s what you think, then you’re bloody mad.”

“May I see some of the letters?” she asked.

“Not if you’re going to take a hand at me.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Ginny insisted. A warm sensation was beginning to bubble inside her.

He pulled the book out of his robes and handed it to her. She sat next to him in silence for a moment as she flipped through the pages, taking in the correspondence between a dead husband and wife.

She didn’t particularly have much interest in reading any of the letters, but she could feel Draco’s eyes boring into her, hoping that she wouldn’t let him down by berating him. Her reaction mattered to him. She decided to read one passage.

My own Darling,
If you will only listen a tiny bit to me I know...that you will prevail & that some day perhaps soon, perhaps not for 5 years, you will have a great & commanding position in this country. You will be held in the people's hearts & in their respect. I have no originality or brilliancy but I feel within me the power to help you now if you will let me. Just because I am ordinary & love you I know what is right for you & good for you in the end.
Your devoted loving,
Clemmie

“I like that one,” he said, peering over her shoulder. “This was written before he became minister.”

It was Ginny’s turn to be quiet for a moment. She didn’t know what to say. She was moved by Clementine’s endearing and supportive words for her husband. But she was more moved by Draco’s interest in it.

“Why do you read this?”

“I told you, I enjoy history,” he said impatiently.

“But why this book?”

He shrugged. “It has to do with Churchill, and I rather like reading about him…and Cavanaugh,” he added quickly.

She let the book drop onto the floor with a soft thud and took Draco’s face with both hands. His face felt warm against her touch. They stared at each other for a moment. She could see him. It was like falling into his soul. This wasn’t the nasty, bigoted, arrogant prat she had known all these years. Instead, she found a beautiful person struggling to find light in a world of darkness.

Draco had argued with his mother just before the Christmas holiday. He wanted to stay behind at school and focus on the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement. Having the greater portion of the school empty would've been beneficial towards his task. But Narcissa Malfoy was a woman of tradition, and tradition called for a family get-together during Christmas. And if Lucius wasn’t going to present, Draco certainly would have no choice in the matter.

“But Mother, you know what I have to do. I’m running out of time,” he’d said to her through the Floo network in the Slytherin Common Room.

“Draco, how am I supposed to have a Christmas without both my husband and son?”

“Mother, if I don’t do what I’m supposed to, we may never have a Christmas at all!”

“DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY!” his mother’s voice bellowed. “This isn’t a request. You are to come home,” she’d said fiercely, the flames licking at her face with a thunderous roar.

And so he packed his belongings and boarded the Hogwarts Express with his classmates. A sense of anxiety and distress burdened him the moment he took a seat with his housemates in a vacant compartment. Visiting home for the holidays was meant to be a nice break from school. Students looked forward to it. They liked to talk about what meals their parents would prepare for them, what gifts they’d receive, and anything that wasn’t related to school.

Unfortunately for Draco, he couldn’t stop thinking about school. He felt as though he needed to be there. He was wasting precious time. There was no way he could enjoy the holiday if all he could think about was the impending task.

“Are you and your mum coming over this year?” Blaise asked Draco. He was sitting across from him. Tracey Davis was next to him, leaning against him with her elbow resting on his lap and her free hand flipping through a magazine.

“I suppose so,” Draco said. He watched Blaise place his arm around Tracey, allowing his hand to rest on her hip. She smiled to herself as she continued reading.

Draco suddenly thought of Ginny. He hadn’t really had a chance to see her before they’d gotten onto the train. He wasn’t sure how to say goodbye to her. If they had a conventional “relationship”, she’d be sitting in his compartment with him right now, like Tracey was with Blaise. And they would’ve parted ways once they got to King’s Cross. But what they had was anything but conventional. So instead he hadn’t bothered to seek her out at all. He figured it would be much easier that way.

Besides, he had other pressing matters on his mind and didn’t need to worry about his…girlfriend. How did that saying go? Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Wait a moment; that definitely wasn’t it. That was the last thing he wanted.

He wondered if she expected him to send her a gift for Christmas. The stress that had tensed his muscles was replaced by a mild state of panic. He knew girls were sensitive about these matters. He wasn’t planning on giving her anything. Would she be upset with him? What if she sent him something?

Don’t be stupid, he thought. How could she send you something? His mother would have his head if she found a package coming from the Weasley house.

Well, it’s decided then…you won’t get her anything. They’d agreed from the beginning that neither of them was looking for a romantic relationship.

He furrowed his brow in thought. What were they looking for?

Draco liked having her around. She was interesting to talk to. They had meaningful conversations, which was nice. She was a bit odd, and he had a hard time figuring her out sometimes. She liked to play Quidditch and run, which he didn’t expect from a girl. But he liked that. And Merlin, was she a looker. He’d noticed her before, since his fourth year, but now…

Although they’d agreed on ignoring each other in public, there were times where he passed her in the school hallways and found that tearing his eyes from her was difficult. He’d initially despised the red Weasley hair. It had become a symbol for those that were uncouth, meager, and dimwitted. But Ginny had changed that. He liked her hair. He liked the way it felt when he ran his fingers through it as they kissed. And it always smelled like lilies. He liked her big brown eyes that would sneak casual glances his way in the Great Hall during meals. He knew those eyes and he liked it when they stared into his own…like she was reading him.

Crabbe broke into his thoughts. “I thought you’d stay behind to do whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing.”

Draco stared at him. Crabbe looked smug, like he was mocking him. “I don’t think what I do is any of your concern,” he said flatly.

Crabbe’s expression darkened, but he shrugged, so as to avoid a row in front of everyone else. Blaise was staring at Draco, and then Crabbe with heightened interest. Goyle sat next to Crabbe, fiddling his thumbs while staring out the window. The two girls in the compartment, Tracey and Daphne, appeared oblivious to the tension.

Draco rose to his feet, mumbling something about needing to sit with the other prefects. He’d initially wanted to avoid sitting in there, but at the moment, his present company seemed far less likeable than Pansy, Ron Weasley, and the Mudblood Granger.

When he slid into the prefects’ compartment, Ernie Macmillan let out a snort. “Thanks for joining us, Malfoy.”

Draco shot him a look and took a seat away from everyone else. He noticed Pansy cross her arms across her chest and turn her nose up towards the ceiling.

“We’re just about to start patrolling the train,” Granger said. “You have the last shift.”

He barely glanced at her in response. The occupants of the compartment seemed more than willing to ignore him, and he supposed that was much better than Crabbe becoming smart with him.

Ron Weasley happened to be sitting across from him. He was glad Ginny looked nothing like him. He was tall, lanky, clumsy, and thick, while Ginny was…

“What are you looking at, Malfoy?” Weasley asked, frowning.

Draco smirked. What would you say if I told you I was just snogging your sister the other day? You ought to hear how she moans when I grab her arse…

He immediately regretted this thought and quickly looked away from Weasley. He definitely had a physical relationship with Ginny, but that didn’t mean he had the right to disrespect her by even thinking of dangling that in front of her brother.

Draco began to patrol the train about an hour until their arrival at King’s Cross. He couldn’t help but to feel his chest swell with a surge of pride as students immediately jumped out of his way as they saw him approach. When he poked his head into compartments to make sure things were in order, students would stop what they were doing to straighten themselves up.

He was still smirking when he found himself looking into a compartment of mostly Gryffindor students. He noticed Longbottom, Potter, Creevey, Lovegood, and Ginny.

“Well, well, I was wondering what that putrid stench was,” he said haughtily, staring straight at Potter. He noticed Ginny stiffen from the corner of his eye.

“You mean the one coming from your arse?” Potter laughed menacingly. The other occupants laughed as well. Ginny stared at the ground.

Draco felt his blood rushing. “That’s going to cost you, Scarhead.” How dare he insult him…especially in front of Ginny?

“What, are you going to run to Snape for help?” Potter said. Something about the way he’d said this struck a chord in Draco.

“Why you filthy, incorrigible maggot…”Draco began, but was cut off.

“Enough!” Ginny was staring daggers at him. “Did you need something, Malfoy? I’m sure you have enough real responsibilities to uphold that don’t involve picking fights with other students.”

Draco gaped at her. He quickly composed himself and curled his lip at her in a sneer. “I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job, Weasley.” He turned on his heel and left. A minute hadn’t passed when he heard Ginny’s compartment door slide open and then slam shut. He turned to see the redhead making her way towards him. He panicked. What was she doing?

She looked about her nonchalantly, as though she hadn’t noticed him. For the briefest of moments, her eyes met his. He could see that she was very angry, but she tilted her head ever so slightly in the direction of a lavatory.

He casually entered the bathroom and she followed behind him after a few seconds. The space was barely large enough for one person, let alone two. He was pressed up against the hand basin in an attempt to stand as far away from her as possible. He could almost see the steam coming out of her ears. She locked the door and performed a quick silencing spell. He cringed; did this mean she was going to be yelling?

“What is your problem?” she hissed at him, her hands on her hips.

He glowered at her. “My problem? I can’t believe you’d talk to me like that in front of those people. And you didn’t say anything about the way Potter spoke to me!”

Her mouth dropped open. “You provoked Harry! I can’t believe you’d talk like that to me and my friends!”

“What would you have me say? ‘Hello darling, can I get you and your chums anything from the tea trolley? It’ll be my treat!’ Ha!”

It took Draco a moment to register the sound emanating from her as laughter. He expected her to slap him, or even hex him, but he never would’ve thought in a million years that she’d laugh at what he’d just said.

Ginny covered her mouth gracefully as she snorted, clearly attempting to be angry, but failing to do so.

He laughed nervously. Witches were certainly funny creatures.

When she regained her composure she looked at him seriously. “Draco, I know what this has to be like, but must you be such a git in front of my friends?”

“I can’t act out of the ordinary. Wouldn’t people ask questions?”

“They already do.”

“About us?” he asked incredulously.

“No, just about you. They say you’ve been different,” she clarified.

“See,” he said.

“I just…it’s hard,” she said, sighing.

“And you’re surprised?”

“No, but I…,” she stopped, apparently at a loss for how to finish her thought.

“Look,” he said. “I don’t like Potter or any of those guys. I can’t be nice to them. I would expect you to be the same around my friends. But just know that I wouldn’t say anything nasty to you and mean it.”

Wow, well aren’t we getting all soft? his conscience nagged at him.

She nodded slowly. “We have to keep up pretenses.”

“Yes.”

“It’s kind of exciting,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She inched closer to him so that their bodies were almost touching. “This. Sneaking around with you.”

He meant to nod in agreement, but Ginny had a way of making him feel lightheaded. He felt something stir within him as she gently grabbed a hold of his robes and pulled him in for a kiss. He almost stumbled into her in surprise. The kiss was sweet and tender, a stark contrast to their atmosphere. He slid his hands down her waist until he had encircled her in his arms. They were almost leaning against the basin now, and Ginny giggled against his lips as a bar of soap slid onto the floor with a dull thud.

“What are we doing?” he whispered with a jagged breath as she clipped his ear. “People will notice.”

“They won’t,” she said against his neck. He was now sitting on top of the basin awkwardly. He dragged her up with him and she was straddling his lap, her knees on either side of him. It was very uncomfortable, but he needed her touch…

She was kissing him with even more deliberation now. Her fingers were in his hair and her body was flush against his. He could feel her chest rub against his as she attempted to pull herself even closer to him. It was then he realized that while he was still in his school robes, she was dressed only in her school uniform.

“Oh, Draco,” she breathed.

He found the hem of her blouse and slid his hands inside, allowing them to roam along her back. It was like touching porcelain. She shivered against his touch.

He wanted to stay like this for hours, but unfortunately, reality began to badger at him.

“G-Ginny,” he murmured against her lips. “I think we should stop.”

She pouted.

“I don’t want to,” he groaned, feeling the blood rushing below his abdomen. “But this isn’t the time or the place.”

She sighed, pressing her forehead against his. “I won’t see you for two weeks.”

Part of him found what she said endearing. And another part of him was frightened at the implication of her words. Were they becoming attached?

He said nothing as she slid down to her feet, ignorant to his sudden discomfort.

She took a deep breath in an attempt to compose herself. He got down to his feet and impulsively leaned forward to rearrange her now disheveled locks. She smiled at him. I am attached…

“Wait a few moments before coming out,” she instructed and peered outside the lavatory door. Before she could walk out, he pulled her by the elbow in for one last kiss. He didn’t worry about the fact that they were standing in a tiny bathroom. He didn’t worry about the fact that the door was wide open and that anyone could find them. All he could think about was deepening the kiss so that she could elicit a lovely moan that would make knees buckle.

When she broke away, she flushed in surprise and embarrassment. With one last look at him she left the bathroom hurriedly.

He remained behind in the bathroom and pressed the palms of his hands against the cool surface of the hand basin as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. His heart was beating rapidly and he felt dizzy.

What’ve I gotten myself into?

Christmas with the Weasleys went by in a blur. Ginny spent most of her days playing Exploding Snap, Wizard’s Chess, making fun of Fleur, and trying to eavesdrop on adult conversation regarding Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

Two days before Christmas Ginny was busying herself with Arnold, her Pygmy Puff, in the Weasley family room. Harry and Ron were playing Wizard’s Chess. Her mother ran about the house tidying things up. They weren’t at 12 Grimmauld Place anymore, so the family and their friends would be spending Christmas at the Burrow.

“….Snape…asking to help,” Harry whispered to Ron.

Ginny only caught part of his words as she looked up and stared at the two boys. Ron’s back was to her, but she could see his shoulders slumped over in defeat. At Harry’s words, or the game?

“What do you think it could be?” Ron asked, not bothering to drop his voice as Harry had.

Harry suddenly caught Ginny’s eyes on him and quickly looked back at Ron. He bit his lower lip and dropped his voice to a barely audible whisper. “…Unbreakable Vow…”

Ron’s head snapped up. “An Unbreakable Vow? Harry, that’s serious. It’s the strongest Vow a Wizard can make. You die if you don’t follow through with it. Fred and George tried to get me to make an Unbreakable when I was young, but Dad caught them. They were in loads of trouble.”

Harry looked very interested at Ron’s words and seemed to forget to lower his voice. “So Snape is bound to protect Malfoy or he’ll die?”

Ginny’s heart dropped.

“Protect him from what, though?” Ron asked.

“Dunno. We know Snape’s supposed to be helping him do something,” Harry said, his eyes bright. “And if Snape’s helping Malfoy, then it can’t be good.”

“But you said Malfoy didn’t want his help,” Ron said, scratching his head.

“Since when would Malfoy want anyone’s help? That git has his head up his arse.” Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. “But he did tell Snape he shouldn’t have put Crabbe and Goyle in detention. They were helping him.”

“So Malfoy doesn’t trust Snape,” Ron said. “Maybe Malfoy has a hunch Snape’s supposed to be on our side.”

Harry looked skeptical. “I dunno, Ron. Dumbledore could be wrong about Snape.”

There was a brief silence before Harry slammed a fist down onto the chessboard in frustration. Some of the pieces attempted to duck for cover. “What is Malfoy up to?” he cried out.

Arnold jumped out of Ginny’s arms and she realized she’d been shaking. What is Draco up to?

She and Draco had left this significant part of their lives out of their relationship without giving the consequences much thought. He was a Death Eater after all, and he probably did their bidding whether he liked it or not.

Ginny felt she’d gotten to know Draco over the past few weeks. She knew that he liked to read books and play Quidditch. She had to admit he was a very good Seeker despite his methods to get onto the Slytherin team. He lived on uniformity and standardization, so he always ate the same meals everyday – two eggs, a croissant, and a glass of orange juice for breakfast, an apple and ham sandwich for lunch, and sliced meat with potatoes and peas for dinner.

He always pursed his lips and inhaled deeply whenever he was aggravated. She noticed he did this around Crabbe and Goyle quite a bit. His eyes became a cloudy gray whenever he was either angry or…aroused, Ginny thought with a blush. He had a sweet tooth and seemed to have an everlasting stash of candies from Honeydukes.

She also knew that he was very bright. Incidentally, unlike most things about himself, he didn’t brag about this. It was quite curious. She still didn’t know why he was taking Muggle Studies. It appeared to be a sore subject for him, so she never bothered press for an answer.

She hugged her knees to herself and frowned to herself. Despite the things she knew about him, she didn’t really know him. She could never accomplish that. He hid such a large portion of his life from her. His other life, as she had come to refer to it, was off-limits for discussion. He would never talk to her about his father’s imprisonment, his Dark Mark, or…Voldemort. Initially she’d been okay with their agreement. She didn’t want to know these things. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to get the image of Draco writhing in agony from the burn of the Dark Mark that one night out of her mind. It scared her.

But the more she thought about it, the more she decided she needed to know these things. Not so she could one-up him and report any findings to the Order, but because…she cared about him. And if something like that had scared her…what must it do to him? How often did his Mark burn? What must it be like to have your father, no matter how despicable, in prison? What did Voldemort make him do? Did he have anyone to talk to?

He was not the same Draco he’d been the year before. He was thinner, more reserved, and less aggressive. He was known for his proper mannerisms and sophisticated look, but she found that he had become more careless in his appearance. He seemed to always have bags under his eyes from a lack of sleep, his hair had lost its brilliant sheen, and overall he had aged for the worse.

Her chest began to ache with an unfamiliar sensation.

“Hey, Gin, you all right?” Ron asked her suddenly. The two boys were staring at her over their game.

Ginny noticed she was clutching her blouse tightly in an effort to ease the pain building inside her.

“Yes, I’m fine. It must be heart burn,” she lied. She knew it wasn’t that, but maybe her heart was aching for a different reason.

On Christmas day Ginny found herself sitting outside in the Weasley patio just before dinner. It was snowing and she enjoyed the sensation of the flakes against her skin as she watched the sun beginning to set.

She heard the backdoor open and swing shut. Harry joined her on the wicker sofa. His black hair, partly concealed with a Weasley-made ski hat, was a sharp contrast to the snow. His face was already flushed red from the cold.

“Thanks for the CD player, Harry,” she said, smiling at him. She’d recently gotten into Muggle music and appreciated Harry’s thoughtfulness. Her father was currently ogling the machine.

“You’re welcome,” he said, returning her smile. He bent over to scoop a handful of snow with his matching mittens. He patted it together and played with the newly formed snowball absently.

“Ginny,” he said quietly.

She couldn’t tell if he’d meant for her name to come out softly, or if the rushing sound of the snow falling had muffled his voice.

She looked at him. He had the same expression on his face when he’d asked her to the school ball.

“I was wondering if…” he began, but the sound of shouting from inside the house interrupted him. The two of them jerked their heads towards the door.

“Percy!” Her mother’s voice cried out. “Percy! You’re here! You made it!”

Ginny quickly rose to her feet. “Percy?”

Harry let the snowball drop to the ground as a dejected look flitted across his face for a moment. They both made their way inside hurriedly.

The commotion was coming from the dining room, where the whole Weasley family sat, including Lupin and Tonks. Percy stood off to the side awkwardly. His expression was stoic, despite seeing his teary eyed mother running towards him. She engulfed him in a hug and his eyes narrowed.

Ginny blinked in disbelief. The bloody git can’t even return his mother’s hug on Christmas!

Someone coughed softly. It was then that she noticed a man standing next to Percy. No one had acknowledged him with all the excitement. Everyone suddenly turned to stare at the stranger.

Merlin, it’s the new Minister.

Percy shook his mother off in embarrassment. “This is the Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour.”

Ginny’s father, who’d been silent the whole time, took a step forward with his hand extended in greeting. “Pleasure to meet you, Minister, Arthur Weasley,” he said.

Ginny didn’t believe her father was being the least bit genuine. Scrimgeour stared at her father for a moment before taking the hand. He offered a thin smile.

“I was telling Percival here that I needed to meet the family who was responsible for such impeccable upbringing,” Scrimgeour said, his smile widening. His shaggy blond hair reminded Ginny of a lion.

Fred and George snorted, but their mother shot them a look.

Her father was about to say something in response, but Scrimgeour seemed to have lost interest in the family with the “impeccable upbringing”. He was staring around the room, as if searching for something. She felt his eyes rest near her, and she realized he was looking at Harry.

“Ah!” the Minister exclaimed. “So, Harry Potter, we finally get a chance to meet.” He made his way towards him.

Ginny could feel Harry stiffen next to her.

The Minister ushered Harry outside to speak in private. The Weasley family sat in silence, gaping at Percy. The soft sounds of utensils clanking nervously filled the room. Ginny felt awkward standing off to the side, but couldn’t bring herself sit down at the table. She gripped the back of Bill’s chair. The movement startled Fleur, who was seated next to him. She glanced at Ginny briefly with a small smile on her face.

“Well don’t just sit there, Percy, have a seat,” Molly exclaimed, pulling a chair out for him. “This is your home.”

The empty chair happened to be next to Ron, who opened his mouth in horror. While the whole family harbored a grudge against Percy, Ginny knew Ron was very sore about the letter he’d sent him about Harry the year before.

Percy remained standing. “No thank you, the Minister shouldn’t be long, and then we’ll be going.”

Ginny’s heart broke to see her mother’s face fall. Her father’s ears reddened, the way they did when he was angry.

“Now see here, Percy, you can’t ju-”- he began, but his wife cut him off.

“T-that’s all right, Percy. We…understand,” she sniffed, a finger sweeping across the underside of an eye.

“Why don’t you just leave now?” Fred asked, rising from his chair. His expression was hard.

Molly released a shuddering sob. “F-Fred…”

And suddenly a chunk of mashed potatoes was flying across the room and hit Percy in the face. Ginny didn’t dare peel here eyes away from her estranged brother to seek out the culprit. Percy’s face was now as red as his hair. Without a word, he took out a handkerchief to clean his face and stepped out of the room.

A moment later the front door could be heard slamming shut.

Ginny’s mother broke down into tears, and Tonks rushed to wrap her arms around the older woman’s shoulders. Her father’s teeth were clenched and he looked around at the horrified expressions at everyone seated at the dinning table.

“George-” he said dangerously, enunciating the name carefully.

“Howf do you noo if wuf me?” George asked, chewing down a bite of mashed potatoes.

Ginny bit her tongue to prevent herself from laughing out loud. The humorous moment disappeared shortly after as Scrimgeour burst back into the house.

“Where’s Percival?” he demanded.

His face was red, but Ginny didn’t think it was from the cold weather outside.

“He left,” Bill said quietly.

Scrimgeour bolted out of the room.

“And a happy Christmas to you!” Fred called out after him.

They heard the faint sounds of two people Apparating away from the Burrow.

Harry walked back into the house. All eyes were on him. He pulled off his ski hat and balled it up in his hands.

“I don’t think I’ll be getting a gift from him for Christmas,” he said, attempting to smile.

Molly released herself from Tonks to throw her arms around Harry. She began to sob uncontrollably. He patted her back awkwardly and stared at Ginny, his eyes wide with alarm.

Help me, he mouthed out.

“Let’s eat,” her father said loudly. And so they did.

---

Draco had expected the winter holidays to be a miserable affair. He greeted his mother with usual cordiality at Platform 9 ¾ once he’d descended the train.

His mother was as tall and thin as ever, but she had a certain haunted look shadowing her face. Her high cheekbones had hollowed in even more. Her hands appeared to be icy cold and almost brittle. She almost looked as though she’d lost the will to live. Draco felt ashamed that he’d considered not coming home for Christmas.

Her sullen eyes seemed to light just the tiniest bit when she received him. She offered him a weak smile and hugged him tight. A curtain of long blonde hair engulfed him as he wrapped his arms around his mother. He was taller than her now, and she liked to point this out time and again, how her baby boy had grown so quickly.

He felt his mother take in a shuddering breath and he worried that she might cry in front of everyone at the station. He pulled away from her.

“Come, Mother, let’s go home,” he said, taking her hand.

As they made their way towards the Floo Network, he couldn’t help to steal a very brief glance at a red haired girl who had her arms around her father in greeting.

Two days before Christmas the Malfoys were invited to the Zabini home for their annual ball. They had been attending this event for as long as Draco could remember. He usually looked forward to the event, as it gave him an opportunity to rub elbows with some of the most powerful and wealthiest families in the Wizarding world.

However, he’d always done this with his father.

Draco’s father would make sure that the two of them wore the newest dress robes, the shiniest shoes, and took care so that not a single strand of hair was out of place. They would enter the ball with the smallest hint of a smile and eyes that commanded respect for all. His father had told him it was very important to find a balance between coming off as friendly and boorish. The friendly gentleman received little respect, while the boorish gentleman was reviled. Of course, exceptions were to be made, especially when one met a particularly foul individual.

His father would then introduce Draco to significant members of society. Sometimes they would offer him a cigar imported from South America. He would eagerly accept, but his father was quick to whisk them out of his hands.

”You’re too young,” his father would say with an amused smile.

Draco would dance with different witches, none of whom seemed to capture his attention for too long. In the past he’d found that sharing dances with Pansy made it easier to pass the time.

Both his parents had asked him to consider other young women.

”The Parkinsons can’t be trusted,” his mother said once. “They’re not old money, like us.”

Then they would retire for the evening and Draco would laugh as his parents named off the number of guests that had appeared in last year’s dress robes, or the poor bloke who’d just recently been inducted into the realm of high society and couldn’t differentiate between a salad and dinner fork.

This year was different. Draco still wore a brand new set of dress robes. He’d taken care to polish his shoes himself, not wanting to trust the house elf with the task. His hair shone like an angel’s halo. He entered the Zabini home with his arm linked in his mother’s. The absence of his father created an unintentional, deafening silence between the two of them.

He took a moment to stare at her as they descended the staircase to the ballroom. She had her blonde hair set in a loose chignon. Her deep blue dress robes were classy as always. They trailed behind her, giving her the appearance of a mermaid. A thin strand of diamonds adorned her pale neck. He’d noticed her eyes had brightened since he’d returned home.

The host and hostess received them genially. Blaise stood next to his mother, his hair as curly as ever. He flashed Draco an exaggerated smile and shook his hand in mock formality.

As Draco spoke to the various guests, they all avoided bringing up his father. He was fine with that. He certainly didn’t want to discuss that with anyone.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but the atmosphere of the ball was quite different from the years before. Certain regulars were missing in attendance, that was for sure, but a dark invisible mist seemed to be hovering above everyone. They greeted each other cordially, but at the same time, the smiles were far too wide, the expressions too placid. And yet something seemed to be stirring behind their eyes….an unsettling tension.

Draco was about to catch up with Blaise, but was stopped when a large hand thumped his shoulder. It almost made his knees bend.

He turned around to face Barnabas Rowle, an acquaintance of his father. He was a thin man with a glowing, bald dome and a little bit of gray stubble around his chin. His black beady eyes bore into Draco’s.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he said, his voice raspy, as though he suffered from a bad cough. He offered him his hand.

Draco gave the man a slight nod as he accepted the outstretched hand. “Mr. Rowle.”

He didn’t know too much about the man, except that his brother, Thorfinn Rowle, was closely connected to the Dark Lord.

“Good to see you here especially with the circumstances and all,” Rowle said slowly. A muscle in his jaw twitched slightly.

Draco narrowed his eyes and raised his chin. “Surely I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Rowle?”

Rowle’s eyes danced menacingly as he leered at Draco. He could smell Firewhisky on his breath.

“It must be hard on such a young man to have his father…incarcerated,” Rowle said with mock concern in his voice. “I was just speaking with your mother-”

If there anything worse than having your father in prison, it was dealing with old, disgusting perverts who pined after your sulking mother.

Draco jerked the left sleeve of his dress robe upward and leaned in towards Rowle. “I’d appreciate it if you left my mother alone,” he hissed.

Rowle’s eyes widened upon seeing the Mark on Draco’s arm. He staggered backwards, right into a waiter carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvres. The tray clanged to the floor, tossing its contents onto Rowle’s robes.

“Pity,” Draco said with a sneer as he pulled his sleeve back down. “Those stains will be difficult to remove from second- class robes.”

He brushed pass Rowle as the waiter frantically tried to clean up the mess, murmuring apologies to the bald man.

Draco quickly composed himself and stood among a circle of men dressed in immaculate dress robes that rivaled his own.

“…and so I told Scrimgeour, this one has none of the virtues I admire, and all the vices I dislike,” said Arnold Peasegood, a Ministry employee.*

The men around him laughed.

Albert Runcorn, a tall wizard with a black beard, acknowledged Draco. “Mr. Malfoy, good to see you,” he said politely. Runcorn was a good friend of his father’s.

“It’s a pleasure to see you all as well,” Draco said, bowing a little.

Runcorn took a tin box from the pockets of his robes and opened it for Draco. Inside were a dozen Ramon Allones, among the finest of cigars. “Have one, please,” Runcorn said, smiling.

Draco stared at the open tin, and then at the men around him, each puffing a cigar. He thought of his father and a dull stabbing sensation built up in his chest. He returned the smile. “Thank you, Mr. Runcorn, but as tempted as I am, I’m going to have to refuse.”

Runcorn’s smile widened. He clapped Draco on the shoulder. “That’s quite all right.”

A short, tubby Wizard with one too many chins beamed at Draco. “If only all young men had that kind of self-restraint today. Lucius has done a fine job.”

The Wizard wore a set of dark green robes that looked as though they’d experience significant wear and tear over the years. He had a purple handkerchief in a front pocket that clashed terribly with his robes. Draco almost wrinkled his nose in disgust, but stopped himself. What had the man done to him? He’d shown him decency and kindness. Did it really matter that his shoes were in dire need of a good polish?

“Thank you, sir,” Draco said, nodding in thanks.

“Draco!” a voice called out.

He turned around to see Blaise heading towards him. He excused himself from the group of gentlemen and grabbed for a flute of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray.

“Miss Astoria Greengrass has been inquiring about you for a dance,” Blaise said, smirking. He stopped the same waiter to grab a flute as well.

“I’m not really up for dancing,” Draco said quickly and took a generous sip of his drink.

“There’s always Pansy Parkinson.”

Draco snorted.

“So no to the blonde and the brunette,” Blaise said as he held up two fingers with his free hand. “There’s a lovely redhead I met just a moment ago.”

Draco held Blaise’s gaze. “What makes you think this is about hair?”

Blaise shrugged. “Just saying, mate, she’s got a set of legs. And she’s related to the Weird Sister’s guitarist.”

“I don’t care if she’s the Queen of England herself,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “I told you I didn’t want to dance with anyone, so bugger off.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow at Draco. “Well, then. Note to self, he’s quite touchy when it comes to redheads.”

Draco was gripping his champagne glass so tight he thought it would shatter. He straightened himself out so that he stood an inch over Blaise. “Why don’t you just say what you’ve been trying to get at?”

The amused expression on Blaise’s face disappeared and was replaced with a seriousness Draco seldom saw in his friend. “You’re not as discrete as you believe yourself to be. I think you know what I’m talking about.”

It took all of Draco’s will to keep his face from revealing anything, but his heart began to race. “Frankly, I have no idea.”

Blaise shook his head. “I’ve got two words for you,” he said, bringing his voice to a barely audible whisper, “Ginny Weasley.”

Draco could feel the blood rushing through his body. The room seemed to slow down and everything became hazy. All he could see were the steely eyes of his housemate as they stared at him, daring him to respond.

Draco let his champagne flute clatter to the floor as he roughly grabbed Blaise’s robes by the front. It irked him even more that Blaise seemed unfazed by his reaction.

“How dare you,” Draco hissed, attempting to keep his voice down. A few Wizards and Witches nearby stared at the pair with questioning eyes before moving along.

“Draco,” Blaise said calmly. “I’m your friend. We’ve been mates for as long as I can remember. When will you learn to trust me?”

“You’re no friend of mine,” Draco spat, relinquishing his hold on Blaise. He turned to walk away.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” he said, smoothing his robes. “I’m not stupid.”

Draco turned to stare at him. “No, I guess you’re not.”

He began to walk away once again, but Blaise kept going. “I haven’t told anyone.”

Draco closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Thanks, but I’d appreciate it if you stopped trying to bait me for information.”

Blaise gave him a goofy smile as he ran a hand through his thick curls. “All right.”

“And we never had this conversation.”

“What conversation?”

---

On Christmas day Draco and his mother sat down for dinner with his Aunt Bella.

The semi-delighted demeanor of his mother had long since disappeared, and she sat over her plate, brooding in silence.

“Look at you, Cissy,” Aunt Bella said, narrowing her eyes at her younger sister. “It’s Christmas, and you can’t even enjoy yourself for the boy.”

His mother met her sister’s gaze, her eyes brimming with tears. “I j-just can’t do this…”

“Of course you can,” Aunt Bella said, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “My husband is in Azakaban, too you know.”

She took a swig from her glass of Firewhisky. “And I’m doing just fine.”

Draco’s head hurt. He was tired of being at home. He wanted to get back to school, away from his crying mother and the lingering shadows of his father’s absence. And having his over-zealous aunt around didn’t help matters.

A house elf entered the room. “Excuse me, Missus Malfoy, there is a Mr. Snape at the door.”

Draco noticed Aunt Bella shoot his mother a dirty look. “What is that dodgy wretch doing here?”

His mother shook her head. She stared at Draco, her eyes full of sorrow. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“Send him in, please,” she asked the house elf.

Severus Snape entered the room a moment later. He wore a thick black cloak over his robes, giving him the appearance of a large bat. He seemed to have brought the winter cold in with him as Draco felt a chill crawl down his spine.

He bowed slightly. “Narcissa, Draco…Bellatrix,” he greeted them, and Draco caught the tiniest of sneers as he said his aunt’s name. “I am terribly sorry for interrupting your Christmas.”

“Then you would do well to leave us be, Snape,” Aunt Bella said thickly.

Snape ignored what she’d said. “I need to speak with Draco in private. It’s urgent.” He gave his mother a knowing look.

His mother looked as though she were struggling to contain a sob. “Yes, of course.”

Draco excused himself from the table and retreated into the adjacent parlor with his professor. Although his dinner had been a depressing affair, Draco wasn’t pleased with the alternative situation he was now in. He stood near the burning fireplace and scowled at Snape.

“Won’t you have a seat?” Snape asked, eyeing him carefully.

“I’ll do as a please, seeing as this is my home,” Draco said darkly.

Snape moved closer to him and the crackling fire illuminated his face. His shadow loomed behind him against the parlor wall. “Draco, the Dark Lord has asked of your progress.” His voice was grave and his expression so stony, it was almost frightening.

Draco held his ground. “I told you I’m handling it!”

Snape shook his head impatiently. “I don’t mean that. What of your professor?”

Draco froze. The icy chill he’d felt in the dining room with Snape returned, despite the warm fire behind him. “I…I…”

Snape’s beady eyes pierced his own, searching…

Draco barred his teeth at him with a snarl. “That won’t work with me!”

Snape’s expression seemed to soften ever so slightly. “I see Aunt Bella has been working on your Legilimency.” His lips thinned and his already black eyes darkened. “This is serious, Draco. It is something I cannot help you with.”

The fire hissed like a snake as Draco fidgeted restlessly. His hands trembled at his sides. “I will have a precise date and location soon.”

His Head of House stepped forward and placed both of his hands on Draco’s shoulders. His fingers were thin and ice-cold and his white faced stared at Draco not with menace, but with…pity?

“That’s not good enough,” he said, almost sadly.

“I’ll find out soon,” Draco pleaded, trying to step away from Snape’s hold on him, but his claw-like fingers held on tight. His heart began to race and he suddenly felt feverish as a wave of panic swept over him. “Please…you can’t.”

“I have no choice.”

With one swift movement Snape took out his wand and placed an arm around Draco’s waist. He saw blackness as the two of them disappeared from the Manor. The only thing he could think of was his mother’s sad and haunted gaze, searching for what she’d lost.

Ginny tapped a Muggle ballpoint pen against the surface of her desk. The sound did little to drone out Professor Burbage as she explained the details of their impending field trip to a Muggle city.

It had only been two weeks since they’d returned from the Christmas holidays, and Ginny found herself overwhelmed with anxiety. For one thing, O.W.L.s were approaching fast. She thought that Hermione had been exaggerating when she’d told her to begin studying at the start of the school year. But with only a few months to go, Ginny was bewildered.

On a darker note, the Wizarding world was becoming…well, more dark. The number of reported deaths increased despite the Ministry’s feeble attempts to accost alleged Death Eaters. But people were still fearful. An eerie blanket of dread, mistrust, and unease hovered over everyone. It ate at them while they dined in the Great Hall, took notes in class, spoke to one another in their common rooms in hushed silences, and even in their sleep. Something terrible was happening and it prickled Ginny’s skin to think about it.

However, the one thing that bothered her most of all was Draco. She’d decided that she wanted to be there for him. She wanted him to trust her, to open up to her. Maybe he couldn’t tell her his…Death Eater secrets…and Merlin only knew what would happen if he were to divulge anything of that sort, but she wanted to be a part of his whole life, and not just a piece of it.

But Draco had been different since the holidays. He’d been more reserved and quiet. She rarely saw him. He claimed to be studying, or not feeling well. And when they did spend time together, he barely spoke, and instead poured over his Muggle books, a troubled look in his eyes.

“Draco, please tell me what’s wrong,” she asked once.

They were sitting in a corridor near the Divination classroom. He was slouched against the stone wall, his knees bent, and his hair curtained his face from her view.

“Nothing,” he mumbled.

She gently placed a hand on his knee, giving it a squeeze. “Why won’t you tell me? Let me help you.”

He jerked away from her grasp and pulled his hair back out of his eyes to stare at her. He had bags under his eyes and his skin appeared gray and sallow. She thought he looked menacing for a moment, but he must’ve seen the hurt in her eyes, for he let out a tiny sigh.

“Ginny, we agreed we wouldn’t get personal.”

She laughed humorlessly. She hadn’t meant to, but she couldn’t help it. “Personal? Draco, we’ve been dancing around for two months, trying to keep this…this…relationship as superficial as possible. But somewhere along the way things changed. I know you can sense that.”

He said nothing.

She leaned closer to him, so that her lips barely brushed across the shell of his ear. “When you kiss me, it’s not just a kiss. You take a part of me with you, with every breath you steal from me.”

She felt him shudder slightly. He turned to face her, their faces just inches apart. He kissed her gently at first, and then he deepened it, cupping his hands on either side of her face. She felt her head scrape against the wall as he pressed his body against hers. His knees were on either side of her now, keeping her in place.

He kissed her face, nipping at her jaw. He kissed her throat, eliciting a gasp from her. She ran her hands along his back and felt how thin he’d become and she felt tears brimming in her eyes.

What’s wrong with him? Why won’t he tell me?

His body trembled and he buried his face in the crook of her neck. A soft sob escaped from him and Ginny realized that Draco Malfoy was crying. She hugged him tightly, running a hand through his blond hair gently.

He’s so broken, she thought to herself desperately.

She felt him move suddenly and he pressed his forehead against hers. His tear stained face felt cool against her skin.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?” she asked, keeping her eyes locked with his.

He didn’t answer her, but she could feel his hand work its way up one of her bare legs and stop just under the hem of her skirt. His touch created a tingling sensation in her. Their eyes were still connected.

His hand crept further up and stopped once again, this time dangerously close to her center. He kissed her, sliding his tongue into her mouth, and she welcomed him, savoring his taste, which was slightly bitter from the tears.

He gently ran his lips against the side of her face; it felt like a soft whisper. Ginny could feel her heart beating wildly and she inhaled his scent.

He raked his fingers against her thigh and she jerked.

Draco hardly touched her. They kissed, sometimes gently, sometimes rough, and she enjoyed the feel of him in her arms. But he never touched her. She had thought at first that he wanted to progress things slowly. But after a while, when he still hadn’t made a move, she thought that he wasn’t as interested in her. The theory was quelled when she could feel his desire pressed up against her one evening as they sat in a corridor much like this.

She was confused. Her two boyfriends in the past had certainly tried to move to a point in their relationship that she hadn’t been ready for. So why hadn’t Draco tried anything? It had been over two months.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, and she noticed that his eyes were dark, unmistakably with lust.

“No-” she said, biting her bottom lip as he continued to draw lazy patterns against her skin. “But…”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I thought you didn’t want me,” she said quickly.

She expected him to laugh at her, but instead he looked genuinely puzzled. “What are you on about? Of course I want you. What’ve we been doing all this time?”

“It’s just…well…all we’ve been doing is snogging, and you haven’t really tried…”

A faint smile flitted across his face. “Ginny Weasley, I’m surprised.”

“No! It’s not that I wanted you to…well, of course I did, but I just…well…you being a boy and all…why haven’t you…you see where I’m going?”

He sighed and pulled away from her. She felt vulnerable and exposed all of a sudden.

“What do you think of me?” he asked. “And this isn’t a trick question; I want to hear an actual response.”

“I-I what?”

“How many girls do you think I’ve been with?”

She wrung her fingers together with nervousness. She wasn’t sure where he was going with this. “Oh, I don’t know…a dozen?”

He smirked. “A dozen? You flatter me.”

“Oh.”

“And what do you think I’ve done with all these girls?”

She could feel her face grow hot in embarrassment. “Pardon?”

He leaned in towards her. “I’ve done this.” He kissed her lips. “And this.” His lips trailed down her throat. “And this.” He took a tiny bite at her skin.

She pushed him off of her. “I don’t need to know of all the sordid things you’ve done with these girls! Are you trying to make a point or do you want to brass me off?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Ginny, I’ve been with two girls, if you even want to call it that. And what I just did with you was the extent of my physical relationship with them. I’m not as profligate of a womanizer as you and your lot seem to think.”

Ginny was silent for a moment as she took in his words.

“Like I said, of course I want you. I’d be a fool if I didn’t. But you can thank my mother for the gentlemanly decorum that stops me from getting into a girl’s knickers.”

Ginny couldn’t help herself, but she was grinning ear-to-ear.

“What?” he asked, affronted.

“You never cease to surprise me, Draco Malfoy,” she said. “And I love it.” She grabbed a hold of his tie, wanting to pull him in for a kiss, but he pulled back.

"So what have you done?" he asked her, a smirk dancing on his face.

Her face flushed. "Nothing we haven't."

And then he kissed her, soft and gentle. When they broke apart she found the small smile on his face again, the one that made her insides melt.

“You haven’t done much of that lately,” she said, tracing the diminishing smile with a finger.

He looked away from her. “I’m having a difficult time with some things, but it’ll get better.”

“I want to help you.” She wrapped her arms around his chest and drew him to her, so that his back was pressed against her, his head level with her chest. She ran a hand through his hair.

“You do, by being here,” he said quietly. “By letting me do this.” He turned so that his face was cushioned against her breasts.

Ginny giggled.

“Where do you want to go for our Muggle city trip?” he asked her.

“Oh,” she said. She hadn’t even thought about it. “Wait, we can’t go together.”

“Why not?” he asked. One of his hands was creeping under the hem of her blouse.

“Why not? Maybe because we’re sworn enemies from rival Houses. And nobody knows I let you do this,” she said, referring to the gentle fingers that were caressing her waist.

“It’s a group project. We’re in the same group.”

“I’m still amazed at how that happened,” she said. “A Malfoy and a Weas-"

Ginny couldn't finish her thought as Draco was now undoing the top buttons of her blouse. She watched him intently, her breath caught in her throat.

“So I was thinking about somewhere in East Sussex,” he said casually, staring at her chest.

“I d-didn’t know you’d put thought into this. W-why there?” She swallowed hard as she realized her breasts were in plain sight for him, covered only by the thin fabric of her bra.

He didn't say anything for a long moment as he took in her newly exposed body. She bit her lip in anticipation, waiting for a reaction.

"Oh, Ginny," he sighed.

"Please touch me," she whispered.

He obliged, taking one breast in his hand and kissing her deeply. She moaned into him, gripping his shoulders as his other hand snaked across her thigh.

She wanted more of him. She wanted him to touch every inch of her, and for her to do the same to him.

He pulled away, looking slightly embarrassed. "We ought to cast a silencing charm on you."

"Draco..." Ginny said longingly, pulling his hand back to her chest.

"Another time, Ginny," he said, smiling at her as he withdrew his hand again. "You are so beautiful. You have to know that I want explore every part of you one day."

She blushed at the implication and began to button up her blouse. Thoughts of rejection were now quietly replaced with something warm instead.

"So...you were saying something about East Sussex?" she said, after clearing her throat awkwardly.

“Well, there’s a castle I’d like to see. It was invaded by William the Conqueror thousands of years ago. And Brighton is there as well, and I hear that’s loads of fun.”

She stared at his blond crown for a moment, a grin returning to her face.

“Okay. We’ll talk to the group. But you do know I’ll have to at least feign opposition for a while. Maybe even insult each other.”

“I can call you a stubborn little Gryffindor who is by far even more dimwitted than people give you credit for.”

Ginny gaped at him. “That was mean.”

“That’s the point.”

“Well, then I’d just have to say, ‘Malfoy, you’re like a drunkard out of Ireland, except less articulate.’ How’s that?”

“Quite impressive for someone so dimwitted.”

She swatted his arm. “You know, you never actually really say anything in class.”

“I don’t have much to say.”

“Of course you do. Whether you like it or not, you do well in the class.”

“I’m just humble.”

She snorted.

“Why are you in Muggle Studies?” she asked in a small voice, afraid of hitting a sore subject.

He shrugged against her. “I needed a class to replace Care of Magical Creatures.”

“So why not something else? Like Arithmancy?”

“I think you know by now that I’m…intrigued by Muggle history.”

“Oh. Right.”

She hesitated.

“But, isn’t it an odd class for you to take?”

There was a brief moment of silence. He suddenly moved away from her, eyeing her with an expression she couldn’t place.

“You mean a Slytherin Death Eater who happens to come from one of the purest and proudest Wizarding families?”

She chose not to respond.

He collected his books and rose to his feet to straighten himself out. “I’m going to get going.”

“All right,” she said simply, still sitting on the ground. “But are you upset with me?”

He’d already begun walking away, but he stopped in his tracks. Without looking at her, he said plainly, “No.” And then he was gone.

Draco avoided Ginny as much as possible after their exchange of words and…affection in the corridor near the Divination classroom. It wasn’t so much what she’d said. He really had no reason for blowing up at her whenever she brought up his allegiance to the Dark Lord. She was merely stating a fact.

He was becoming worried about his feelings for her once again. After mulling over their time spent together, Draco realized he was slipping. He’d given away way too much to Ginny. He had never said anything to reveal information regarding either of his plans, but she was no fool. She’d seen him become increasingly withdrawn, moody, and unfortunately, sickly looking. And if she were clever at all, and he knew that she was pretty sharp, she would take his agony as an indicator for Death Eater…activity.

Despite this pressing thought, that she might know too much, he had become vulnerable overall. His lack of success in his agenda had taken a toll on him, and the Dark Lord had seen to it that he was well aware of this during the Christmas holidays. But she did something to him to make things worse. He wasn’t supposed to feel these things for anyone, let alone her. He wasn’t meant to become…attached to another person. Pretty soon he would become the most hated man in the Wizarding World.

What then?

It had started as a purely physical relationship, one that apparently didn’t satisfy her enough, and had later evolved into an awkward companionship. And now he was thinking about her all the time, wanting to touch her, to be with her, to…love her.

The thought frightened him and tied his stomach into knots. This definitely wasn’t meant to happen. She was right; their relationship had done something completely unexpected and had become quite serious without either of them meaning for it to.

But at the same time, as he played back the past two months in his head, he knew what would end up happening. Ever since she’d caught him in a shameful moment, writhing in pain as the Dark Lord shook the bonds of magic between him and his followers, he was drawn to her. She was a calming force on his chaotic life. And he selfishly wanted her to protect him from everything terrible, dark, and evil that haunted him in his waking moments and in his dreams. She had accepted him no questions asked. And he let her heal him.

He'd spent more time in the abandoned girls' bathroom with Moaning Myrtle as he griped about his predicament. Myrtle had initially been reluctant to listen as she pouted about Draco having found someone else over her, but eventually she encouraged him to talk to Ginny about his feelings.

"The least you could do is give her an explanation," Myrtle had said. "And when, I mean, if things don't work out with her, you know where to find me."

Draco’s Muggle Studies group had expressed an interest in going into East Sussex without any word on his part. He merely shrugged when they asked him about his thoughts on the matter. He avoided Ginny’s eyes, but he knew she was staring at him.

“Professor Burbage says it’s one of her favorite places to visit,” Luna said. “perhaps because the Moon Woman lives there.”

The members of their group had become accustomed to the odd things the Ravenclaw girl said and no longer probed her for ridiculous information.

Draco had already known about Professor Burbage’s interest in the region. His decision to venture there hadn’t been without real reason. Of course, all the things he’d told Ginny had been true.

After the group confirmed their decision, they submitted their itinerary to the professor. She beamed and dismissed them from class for the day.

Draco deliberately kept his pace slow as he made his way out of the classroom, hoping to fall into step with Ginny once the others had moved on ahead. Unfortunately, Colin Creevy had monopolized her in conversation.

Their eyes met for a moment and he gave her a knowing look. He wasn’t sure she’d understood, because she continued out of the room with Colin.

He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaving the room.

He found her leaning against a wall, her arms crossed. Her expression was unreadable, something he found disconcerting.

“Ginny,” he breathed, a fluttering sensation taking root in his stomach as he uttered her name. “May I speak with you?”

“Oh, so now you want to talk, Malfoy?” she said bitterly, her eyes narrowing at him.

He cringed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, hating himself for the position this girl had brought him to. He was apologizing! To a bloody Gryffindor. Well, just not any Gryffindor…his Gryffindor.

“Pardon? I didn’t catch what you said,” Ginny said, a faint trace of a smirk on her face.

“I want to speak with you in private,” he said.

She headed down the hallway without a word and entered an unused classroom. He followed her in and once the door shut, he heard a clicking sound as it locked in place. Ginny pocketed her wand and put her hands on her hips in anticipation.

Draco thought she looked beautiful. She tucked a lock of her glossy red hair behind an ear as she stared at him warily with her doe-like eyes. Her creamy skin was tinged slightly pink from anger. She wasn’t wearing her school sweater and her blouse hugged all her curves. It sometimes amazed him that she was only fifteen.

“Well, aren’t you going to say something?” she asked impatiently.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, unconsciously taking a step closer to her.

She stepped back and it took all his willpower to prevent his face from falling.

“It’s not you. I’m going through a lot right now.”

He thought he saw a hint of concern flash over her face.

“I push you away for a reason. I’ve been selfish and I don’t know how much I can allow you to endure anymore.”

“Draco Malfoy,” Ginny said, lowering her hands to her sides. “You continue to surprise me. You’ve apologized and claimed selflessness in the past five minutes.” She closed the gap between them and placed her hands on his chest. He shivered. “Do you love me?”

Draco’s throat went dry. They had never exchanged any types of formalities in their relationship. They didn’t exchange gifts. And they certainly didn’t pledge their undying love for one another. They had always skirted around the issue and had simply allowed themselves to just…be.

“Well?”

“I…”

He looked into her eyes, eyes that were asking him to finally say something outside of their norm. Her close presence was intoxicating. If she hadn’t been standing so close to him, he probably might not have said what he ended up saying.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then as the girl who loves you, I want to be with you no matter what you go through.”

He blinked.

“I know you can’t tell me much. But I’m here for you in any way that you need. You can't get rid of me that easily. What must Clementine Churchill have gone through? Her husband was running a country during a war! But they loved each other.” She touched the side of his face with a gentle hand. He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes.

“Ginny,” he whispered.

“Yes, Draco?” she whispered back.

He kissed the inside of her palm, and then her wrist. He pulled her against him until their bodies fit together perfectly. He could feel her breathing, her chest rising against his. And then he kissed her softly. He pulled the both of them towards the cold stone floor and deepened the kiss, gently pushing her back to the ground. She lay on her back, knees bent, as he trailed kisses across her face and down her throat. He could feel her heart beating rapidly.

He began to unbutton her blouse, and as he did so, he brushed kisses along the newly exposed skin. She was breathing heavily now and her fingers threaded through his hair. His hands were rubbing her thighs softly now, and she squirmed at his touch.

“Oh please, Draco,” she said.

“Please what?” he asked, looking up at her with a smile on his face.

“I need you.” She reached up to unbutton his own shirt, shaking it off of his glowing frame. She greedily raked her fingers along his smooth skin, relishing the feel of it. When she began to pull at his belt buckle he drew back.

She looked hurt.

Merlin, how he wanted this. He’d wanted this since their first kiss at the Astronomy tower. It would be the first time for the both of them.

“Draco Malfoy, if I have to verbally give you my permission, you have it,” she said, unhooking the clasp of her skirt.

“Ginny, t-this isn’t right,” he said with much difficulty.

“Nothing we’ve done the past few months could be described as ‘right’, but I’m begging you right now,” she said, shimmying out her skirt.

He groaned. “What your brothers would do to me if they found out!”

“Silly boy, why are you thinking of my brothers when I’m lying in front of you, almost completely naked?” She tugged on his belt once more and he finally gave in. He slid out of his pants and all that remained between the two of them were their barely there undergarments.

He took a moment to appreciate her beautiful body and then he kissed her. A few moments later he joined the two of them together, finally making Ginny Weasley completely his.