When he didn’t answer immediately Ginny decided against asking why he was fully dressed. She sat up on one elbow and watched him for some moments, then laid back and slowly stretched her bare limbs, like a cat.

“Nothing,” Draco replied at last, absently rolling up the sleeves of his black sweater until she could see the pale skin of his forearm, sparsely covered with fine golden hair.

His lead gray eyes were fixed on the window, on the heavily falling snow that seemed to cover the outside world in a pristine blanket of white.

First snow. It had been late in coming, this year.

The thought found its way through the noise of the angry words and bitter emotions stirred by the Floo call with his father. In spite of everything that had passed Lucius still retained a demonic sort of power over him; he had a way to make Draco feel as if everything he was and everything he had accomplished was ultimately worthless.

His mother’s death the year before had done nothing to bring them together, quite the contrary. She had been the glue between them, and with her passing everything had fallen to pieces – Lucius had grown crueler, Draco had grown more distant. And the world had never felt as big, nor he so small in it.

If it weren’t for Ginny...

Draco turned to her then, wishing to tell her of the turmoil inside of him but not knowing where to even begin.

His eyes went from her gently inquiring amber ones up to her brightly colored hair, admiring the contrast between her auburn curls and the paleness of his silk sheets.

She sat up, holding the sheets to her to cover her breasts, and looked at him searchingly. One of her legs hung over the side of the mattress, her toes, painted red, dangled in the air.

 “Draco...is everything –”      

“– I'm going out for a walk.” He turned away from her and reached for his elegant winter coat, hanging next to her parka.

“Oh.” Ginny pressed her plump lips together briefly. “Well...I guess I better leave?” she said, with uncharacteristic uncertainty.

Draco slipped into his coat and reached for his gloves, putting them on carefully, as if he hadn’t heard her. “You can leave if you want to,” he told her at last.

As his hand closed around the brass of the doorknob he realized that what he'd really meant to say was: “I don't want you to leave”. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before letting himself complete the motion he'd begun, but a moment later the door was slamming shut behind him.

She'll be gone by the time I return, he thought, with an unexpected pang of regret.

He turned up the collar of his coat, dipping his head against the fiercely cold, crisp winter air. Thick flakes fell against his face, dotting his eyelashes and catching in his fair hair. The crunch of the freshly fallen snow under his dragon hide boots was slightly comforting. It was freezing, but how beautiful the grounds of the park looked, covered in pure white.

Draco looked back the way he'd come, seeing the single path of his foot marks tracked along the snow.

He loved her fire, her independence, but for once he wished that Ginny were the sort to follow after him, to not let him go away. One day he might not be able to find his way back to her; one day, Draco mused, he might need for her to pull him back. But would her pride allow her to?

He had never before paused to think about the chances of success a relationship with Ginny Weasley might have. If he was honest, he had never paused to think about the fact that he was entering into a relationship with her in the first place. Things had just sort of...happened. Somewhere along the way, a casual fuck had turned into an established fuck had turned into a relationship.

Looking at it now he wasn't sure exactly where they were, or where they were headed. But he realized he'd be glad to have her company on this walk, even if it meant sacrificing the melancholy charm of solitude in a snow covered field.

Some time later he returned to the posh apartment complex where he lived, keeping his eyes on the marble floor as he crossed the lobby in order to avoid having to greet his approaching neighbor; Draco didn’t particularly feel like meeting anyone’s eyes right now. He noted without emotion that he felt strangely fragile.

Up in the lift and down the corridor, his feet carried him along to his own handsome door while his mind continued to wander – would she be home?

Draco cautiously let himself in. He wasn’t surprised to be met by the heavy silence of an empty flat. He knew she would be gone, but part of him had hoped that...

Removing his coat and gloves, he realized that he couldn't feel his face and couldn’t be certain if he still had a nose. It was freezing out there; curse him for not casting even a simple warming spell.

After some moments he began to feel his extremities tingling as circulation was restored to them. He needed something warm to drink.

Once in the kitchen Draco was surprised to find a head of fiery red hair bent over the modern-looking metallic stove, as a female voice quietly hummed the tune of Celestina Warbeck’s Magic of You.

His heart gave a silly little leap.

“I'm making a peach cobbler,” Ginny explained, straightening up and removing her oven mittens. She’d changed into his old Falcons’ t-shirt and her wild red hair hung loosely down her back in messy, unbroken waves. “And I thought you'd like some tea when you got back...”

Draco folded his arms across his chest and rested his shoulder against the doorframe. He watched as she poured the piping hot liquid and a cube of sugar into a mug. When she raised her warm honey-colored eyes to his, they gazed at each other in silence.

In her eyes he read warmth and earnestness, and something else. Something like a vulnerability that he never thought he would need to see.

He'd worried that one day he wouldn't know the way back to her, but right now nothing seemed more natural than to bridge the distance between them and circle his arms around Ginny’s waist. Draco gathered her to him and breathed her in, while her arms slipped around his neck.

She was soft and warm in his arms, she felt like heaven.

“Your skin feels like ice,” she said, resting her open palm against the side of his reddened cheek. “You have ice in your hair...”

“I didn't want you to leave,” Draco murmured, his eyes locking with hers. “I'm glad you stayed.”

“I am too,” Ginny whispered, her fingers in his wet hair.