Seasons

Chapter 1: Summer

Harry Potter woke up with a smile on his face.

Needless to say, this had not been a normal occurrence when he had been staying with the Dursleys.

Harry came so gently out of sleep that he didn’t quite know when exactly he woke up. He lay in bed, unmoving, thinking with quiet pleasure of the dream he had had. He savoured it all the more because it bore so much resemblance to the reality that stretched out in front of him in the form of long, lazy, golden-suffused summer days spent with Ron and Hermione.

He’d left the Dursleys the summer he’d graduated, three summers ago, into his own place, a small, utilitarian apartment that would have looked bare if not for Hermione’s decorating efforts and the brown paper-wrapped quilts that arrived frequently from Mrs. Weasley. Harry liked his home, when he was there. It always made him feel like he was in Hermione or Mrs. Weasley’s presence. You could even feel Ron in the apartment – partly because he was always there, partly because of the huge Chudley Cannons poster that covered one half of Harry’s living room wall.

Every summer, though, more regularly than any swallow, Harry migrated back to the place that had always and never been his home. The first day of summer would see Harry on the Burrow’s front doorstep, bag in hand, smile on face.

Harry was unpleasantly jolted out of his peaceful state when his bedroom door flew open with an unceremonious crash. Ginny Weasley stood in the doorway of the room he still shared with Ron, her face wearing a superbly fake smile and her voice just as fakely cheerful. “Wakey wakey!”

Harry had no doubt that she was fully aware of his shock and took no small amount of satisfaction from his start and scowl. “Thanks.” He mumbled insincerely.

The dissipation of Ginny’s loving devotion had given way to a far less pleasant phase of devotion. Her crush on him had been replaced in his seventh year with a determination to atone for all the years she had spent worshipping him by disliking him intensely. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the determination had a lot to do with the fact that he had started going out with Cho regularly then. Whatever the reason, Ginny had switched from giving him red roses to giving him dirty looks and taking an, Harry was convinced, unholy pleasure in annoying him.

She did it quite well.

Much to his misfortune.

“You’re welcome!” Ginny trilled, with exaggerated delight. She gave him a cheerful wave as she bounced out the door.

Harry scowled even more ferociously at her retreating back. With a low, primitive growl of displeasure, he rolled out of bed and went to perform his morning ablutions.

By the time he got downstairs, Ginny had left, for which he was devoutly thankful. On asking, he was informed that she had gone looking for a job – “as she should be.” Mrs. Weasley had said firmly. He sat down at the breakfast table and proceeded to thoroughly enjoy the motherly fussing Mrs. Weasley bestowed on him. While chomping his way through about his tenth waffle, his mouth full, he glanced at Ron.

“What are you going to do today?”

Ron took an energetic gulp of juice before he answered. Harry could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down in the still skinny throat. Ron grinned, reminding Harry of the kid he’d first met on Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

“Well, I’ve got to go over to the club to help prepare for all the kids tomorrow.” Ron took another gulp of juice. “Then Hermione’s arriving by train tonight, so I’ll go meet her there.”

Harry nodded. The “club” was the place where Ron was working for the summer – a kid’s indoor games club. At twenty-one, Ron had just graduated from one of the best wizarding universities in the area. Although they hadn’t gone to the same university – Ron had wanted a chance to be away from both him and Hermione – Harry had kept close tabs on his friend.

“You going now?” Harry asked as Ron got up. Percy and Mr. Weasley had already left for work, about two hours before he had gotten up. Bill and Charlie were sleeping in and Harry knew they had plans to go out that afternoon with two witches. The Weasley twins hadn’t come back for the summer – they were busy branching their business out in Romania.

Ron nodded. “Yes, I think so. What are you going to do today?”

Harry shrugged. He didn’t have any formed plans for the day, but it was starting to look as if whatever plans he did have would be whittled down to “alone”.

“Don’t know yet.” He said, striving to sound mysterious and casual rather than just plain pathetic.

“Well that’s just fine.” Mrs. Weasley put in firmly. “Might as well enjoy your free day. You start work tomorrow, don’t you?”

Harry smiled affectionately at Mrs. Weasley. “Yes.” He answered. He’d gotten a job as an Apprentice Auror. He was looking forward to it.

_____

Being an Apprentice Auror was like being Snape in a dress for a day – pure, undiluted bubotuber pus torture.

Harry hated it.

Not only was the Bernard Hopper, the Auror he was apprenticed to, a Percy who believed in starting from the basics, Bernard also firmly believed that the basics meant making Harry fetch and carry caffeinated drinks for him. With maybe the occasional doughnut.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Ginny – I Have The Most Infuriating Laugh In The World – Weasley had a front row seat for his humiliation.

Apparently while she was searching for a job, she had gotten one as Bernard’s secretary. She was obviously enjoying herself. Not only did she smirk delightedly whenever he passed by with another mug of toxic black coffee – Harry really, really hated the stuff – she actually giggled – at him! – when he carried a plate of doughnuts in.

Harry wished that he could dump the doughnuts in her lap. It didn’t help that whenever Bernard Hopper came out from his office, she was diligently typing, looking sweet. Innocent.

UnGinny.

Harry really, really hated his job.

Midway through the day, thankfully, Bernard had to Disapparate to deal with a rogue Dementor, leaving Harry with a stack of parchments to be put in envelopes and sent off by owl post. Harry grabbed the envelopes from Bernard’s desk and went to work at his own desk, which was – of course – right across from Ginny-Let-Me-Laugh-At-You-One-More-Time-Weasley.

Harry looked up from about his one thousandth piece of parchment and stared at her bent head. Her entire body was focused in concentration, her eyes screwed up, her hands steady.

“Are you painting your nails?” Harry asked disbelievingly.

Ginny pointed her wand at her big toe, turning it from a bright pink to an equally bright purple. She cocked her head at him and smiled sweetly. “Yes, I am.” She said matter-of-factly. “Is something wrong with that?”

“How did you get this job?” Harry asked peevishly. It was more a rhetorical question than anything else – he didn’t expect to be answered.

So of course Ginny-I-Will-Annoy-And-Thwart-Harry-Potter-Whenever-I-Can-Weasley answered. “Great personal charm?” she suggested helpfully.

Below the neck, maybe, Harry thought, but didn’t voice his opinion. He settled for a glare and a snort that hopefully expressed exactly what he thought of her personal charm and shoved a piece of parchment viciously into its envelope. “Were you put on this earth to make me miserable?”

“If that means did I take this job just to annoy you, then the answer is no.” Ginny said imperturbably. “I certainly had no idea that you were his apprentice, and if I had known, then you have every assurance that I would have taken a job as guardian of the pits of Hell before I took this one.”

Harry glared impotently at her. “I would have replaced anyone in the pits of Hell for the summer if I’d known you were going to be around.” He retorted. He jammed the last sheet of parchment into its envelope and stood loftily. “I’m going to send these off now.” He announced with great dignity.

“In your case,” Ginny remarked behind him, “a place in Hell would be a step up from this job.”

_____

Ron waited impatiently at the train station, checking his Muggle-type digital watch. He’d given up on the analog kind – he couldn’t seem to remember where the big hand was supposed to be and why the big hand was called the big hand when it was really shorter than the little hand.

6:38. Ron started fidgeting impatiently. She was supposed to arrive at 6:40. He looked down the train station. Looked the other way. Tapped his foot – but stopped quickly because it gave him a pain in the arch of his foot. Looked down the station again. With a startling whoosh! The train landed in front of him with a jolt. Ron felt dirt go up his nose and in his eyes and he choked.

He was rubbing his eyes so furiously that he jumped, startled, when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He swung around and looked down at a smiling Hermione.

“Oh . . . Ron! Your eyes are all red!” Hermione whipped out her wand and pointed it straight at him, mumbling, “Conjuctivita!”

His vision cleared. “Hermione!”

Hermione blushed and smiled. “Hallo, Ron.”

“Aren’t you the little healer.” He said affectionately, pulling her so that she fell off balance into his arms.
_____

Harry brushed off the last of owl excrement that lay on his robes. With a sound of disgust, he shook himself out and glared balefully at the Ministry Owlery, which, from the outside, looked amazingly innocent.

Innocent! Harry thought bitterly, as he walked into the air conditioned Ministry. He went straight up to his floor, purposefully not looking at anyone on the way.

“Aren’t we looking nice and pooped-on?” Ginny said, bursting into peals of laughter as soon as she saw him.

Harry ignored her. He’d learnt that that was the best attitude to take when Dudley and his friends were bullying him. His ears burned red with the effort as Ginny went on snickering.

He hated his job.

_____

Harry trudged into the Burrow that night utterly exhausted, wanting nothing more than to go straight to bed and forget there was such a person as Ginny Weasley.

“Harry!” a female voice cried, and Harry stumbled back as female arms wrapped themselves around his limp neck.

“Hermione!” Harry said, forgetting his weariness for a moment, equally pleased to see his old friend. She was looking well, bright eyed and intelligent, all hair and eyes. “You look wonderful –“

“You look so tired, Harry –“

“After a day with her –“ Harry said sourly, jerking his head at Ginny, who was laughing with Bill, looking annoyingly fresh and clean. “ – I’m lucky that that’s the only thing that’s wrong with me.”

Hermione burst into unsympathetic laughter. “I’m sure.” She said knowingly. She laughed again. “I find this superbly funny –“

“Of course you do.” Harry said irritably. “What are you doing these days anyway?”

Hermione stopped laughing, although she still had a huge grin on her face. “Well, I took on a job as an assistant healer for the summer. After that I’ll take my Healing exam to become an official Healer.”

“How nice for you.” Harry said gloomily.

Hermione gave him a cheerful hug. Then she burst into laughter again.

_____

Harry lost his temper. Later, he would remember that it had been over a minor thing – Ginny’s refusal to magically copy a document because her nails were wet. That had been the last straw after a day filled with black coffee, steaming doughnuts and Ginny-smirks.

“YOU - YOU WITCH!”

“That is what I am.” Ginny agreed placidly.

Harry slammed his hand down on her desk, making the cup of coffee there slosh over. “You will copy that document and have it on my desk in five minutes.” He said slowly and quietly.

“Really?” Ginny asked. She stood up and grabbed the parchment from his hands. Harry realized that she was getting angry as well. She deliberately placed it on the desk and poured the coffee very slowly over it. “Whoops.” She gave him a fake smile. “Guess I can’t now.”

Harry was by her side in an instant, and his rage was so great that he didn’t realize what he was doing.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and it was a minute before he realized that he was kissing her furiously.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was an angry kiss, full of violence and fury and passion. She tasted of heat and coffee and anger and apples and she was kissing him back, as furiously as he was kissing her. Their hands were in a frenzy of motion, moving all over, exploring each other’s bodies –

Somehow they were on the desk and paper was flying and Harry didn’t care because he was kissing Ginny –

They were kissing so hard that they didn’t hear the door open.

Their eyes flew open and they pushed each other away immediately, however, when they heard the familiar and well-hated voice drawl, turning in unison to see the long, lean figure leaning against the door, hands in pockets of well-cut Muggle suit, a mocking smirk on the now-handsome face.

“Well, well,” said Draco Malfoy.

Disclaimers: anything pertaining to the Harry Potter Universe belongs to JKR. This is a type of co-authored fic. The first four chapters of this story were written by Renebre and I am finishing the story for her with her permission.

Please Read and Review!

A/N: This may seem like it's Harry/Ginny here, but it's definitely not. It'll be Draco/Ginny very soon!

Chapter Two : Lucifer, Love Triangles and the Three Musketeers

Ginny scrambled out from underneath Harry, who looked like he was too lost in reliving his schoolday hatred of Draco Malfoy to be bothered with the person he had just been kissing. It didn't matter, Ginny thought, with only slight bitterness. It took only a second for her to re-erect all her old defenses against Harry Potter anyway. She'd spent years perfecting them, after all, and she was used to being ignored by His Royal Highness I-defeated-Voldemort-about-twenty-times Harry Potter.

It was surprising, though, that being dismissed so summarily still hurt.

Your own fault. What had she been doing, allowing Harry Potter to kiss her? What had she been doing kissing him back?

Ginny shoved a lock of red silk off her forehead and sat back down at her desk. By this time Harry had recovered enough to get off her desk and rearrange his robes, still keeping a mistrustful eye on Draco Malfoy.

Ginny breathed deeply and collected herself. She would not allow this to happen again. She'd spent too long disliking Harry Potter, too long getting rid of her feelings for him, too long putting back the pieces after she'd found out about him and Cho, to have it all shattered with one kiss. He was still the Harry Potter who'd been so callous about her feelings, still the Harry Potter who wasn't perfect and wasn't for her. Nothing had changed. She would not allow it to.

She closed her eyes briefly and opened them again. "May I help you, Mr. Malfoy?" she inquired coolly. That was right. That was correct. Slip into good secretary mode.

She had a chance to study Draco Malfoy as he stood there. He was beautiful, Ginny realized, impersonally. Who did he remind her of, standing there, taking everything in with cool, mocking eyes, dressed in immaculately rumpled Muggle clothes, casual and indifferent?

Oh, of course - how could she not know? He was Lucifer, beautiful and bad -

The childish statement - bad - almost made her grin. He'd certainly grown up since Hogwarts, though, fulfilling all the earlier promise of the classical beauty he'd turned out to be. The cheekbones which had seemed so big and awkward on the thin young face had turned out to be perfect for the older, mature face. Although, Ginny mused, the thin red mouth hadn't learnt any other expressions - it was still curled in that strangely attractive sneer.

"You may, Miss Weasley." Draco drawled, although his sneer was directed at Harry and not at her. "I'm here to see Bernard Hopper."

"What the hell for?" Harry snarled. Always antagonistic, always hotheaded, never stopping to think, that was Harry.

"Don't believe that's any concern of yours, Potter." Draco said airily. "Although I must say, I don't believe Hopper will be too pleased to find out you're having a bit of a fling with his secretary -"

Harry turned red, with embarrassment and anger. Ginny loved this. Harry at a disadvantage was such a rare sight that she reveled in it. She ignored Draco's slighting remark towards her.

"I was not having a fling with his secretary!" Harry growled. "Not that it's any business of yours, Malfoy -"

"Oh, quite, quite." Draco said, with exasperating politeness, which had a remarkable effect on Harry, Ginny noted, with the beginnings of a giggle rising in her throat. He almost turned purple. Draco turned to her with a graceful inclination of his head. "I do beg pardon if you took offense, Miss Weasley."

"Not at all, Mr. Malfoy." Ginny said with equal politeness. "I perfectly understand."

"Stop that, Ginny!" Harry ordered, his face still alarmingly discoloured. "He's being -"

"Now, Potter." Draco reprimanded severely. "Is that any way to speak to a lady?"

Harry lunged for Draco, and what would have happened next had Bernard Hopper not chosen to Apparate in at that moment, was something Ginny would have given her week's wages to know.

_____

"Ron!" Hermione hissed.

Ron looked up in surprise from where he was helping a young wizard to his friend, who stood at the door, her face agitated. He got up and went over.

"Have you seen this?" Hermione asked, waving a paper about.

"No?"

"Well, look at it!" Hermione bit her lip and let Ron gently take the paper from her clenched fist and unfold it. She looked at him as he read, taking in his red hair, the strong, plain profile. He'd grown up so much in those years away from her and Harry. He'd become more confident, more sure of himself and his place, less loud. It was as if he didn't feel the need to constantly assert himself anymore, to constantly make sure he wasn't being forgotten or left out.

Ron looked at her, raising his head, his face white. "Is this true?"

"It's true." Hermione said, with a little laugh, that, even to her sounded desperate. "Oh, Ron, what are we going to do?"

Ron folded the paper back, his hands shaking slightly. "This is bad, Hermione."

"I know it's bad!" Hermione said, almost angrily. "Of course it's bad, Ron. In what way could You-Know-Who re-emerging and killing a dozen Muggles not be bad?"

"Calm down, Hermione." Ron said, soothing her. "I'm sure the Ministry of Magic is doing all it can to keep it under control."

"That's not what I'm worried about." Hermione said, wanting to burst into tears at any moment. "Ron - I'm worried about Harry. Don't you remember what happened the last time Harry saw You-Know-Who? Don't you remember what he said to Harry?"

Ron paled. "Oh God." Hermione saw that he did remember. Not that she had doubted it. The chilling fury in You-Know-Who's voice that last time would be hard for anyone to forget. "Oh, God." He repeated. He glanced at the kids who were starting to dart curious glances at the man and woman who stood in the doorway, ashen-faced and anxious. Ron quickly turned Hermione away from them. "I'm going to get someone to look after the kids for me, all right?" he said, his voice steady and calm, although his hands, Hermione saw, were still trembling. "Then we'll go and see Harry. All right? Hermione! Are you listening to me?"

Hermione nodded, gathering her wits. "I'm sorry. Yes. Hurry, Ron."

Ron hurried away. Hermione watched him, trying to compose herself. Strangely, watching Ron's long, sure strides calmed her. Ron wouldn't let anything happen to Harry.

The last time You-Know-Who had seen Harry -

Harry stood, his face sooty from the ashes of Zonko's in Hogsmeade. His wand was out, his hand steady and strong. Ron stood off to one side, a little away from Harry, and behind. His wand was also out, but they all knew, Ron included, that it would be futile, should Voldemort try to kill Harry. Yet Ron stood there, straight-backed, certain, knowing that his place was at Harry's side. Hermione wished desperately that she could be there, too, in her rightful place on Harry's other side. She glared at her leg, her broken leg, yet she was beyond anger.

Fear - could there be anything worse than this debilitating fear? Hermione choked on ashes and her own bitterness. The cool, gentle hands on her leg made her glance at Ginny, tearing her eyes away from her best friends, her two brave boys. Ginny's face was ashen, and Hermione wondered whether it was for her brother or for Harry -

And wondered if it really mattered.

Voldemort stood facing Harry, the most hideous thing she'd ever seen. His head was thrown back triumphantly - the onlookers having scattered indoors, closing their doors against the most feared wizard in wizarding history.

And to the most heroic ones Hermione had ever seen.

No one to stop Voldemort, no one to stop him from killing Harry or Ron.

Hermione felt a brush of movement against her leg and watched in surprise as Ginny drew her wand as well, her face grim and determined - the face of a woman, not the kid sister Ron was so protective of.

Voldemort raised his wand -

And it was knocked away by a blast from the sky.

Dumbledore, Fudge, Mr. Weasley all came swooping down, with other members of the Ministry.

Anger, at being thwarted, came over Voldemort's face. He flung his hand down, his face so full of hatred that Hermione would have shuddered, if pain hadn't wracked her body.

"Not over, Potter." Voldemort hissed. "Never."

Harry's jaw was tight. "Really?" He said, mockingly, taunting Death.

"I'll be back, Potter. And when I am - we'll finish this."

"I'll be waiting."

"You'll be waiting to die."

_____

Ginny watched in interest as Bernard efficiently separated the two young men and nodded at her. "Some coffee, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny nodded and got up, her mind whirling.

When she got back with the coffee, Bernard was sitting in his office, across from Harry and Draco. He gave her a beam and motioned for her to sit down. Ginny was surprised - secretaries weren't asked to sit in on meetings very often. She sat down next to Draco, noting as she did so that he was exchanging a death stare with Harry.

"Mr Malfoy." Bernard said, suddenly transforming himself from the slightly ridiculous Percyish figure Ginny had thought him to be into an efficient, businesslike Auror. "Why are you here?"

Draco studied him coolly. He nodded at the paper on Bernard's desk. "I'd wager you already know, Hopper."

Ginny glanced at the paper and her blood froze. You-Know-Who Rises Again : Twelve Muggles Perish.

"On the contrary, Malfoy." Hopper said, his eyes narrowed. "Forgive me for saying so, but I was under the impression that you were more in sympathy with Voldemort's league."

Draco lifted his hand in a controlled movement and smoothed back the immaculate white-blonde hair. One eyebrow lifted. "Let's just say I find some of his more recent activities somewhat - distasteful."

Unbidden, a memory rose in Ginny's mind - a recent obituary to the memory of Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother. Her throat closed in horror, she looked at Draco. She had no doubt from his cold, controlled face that that was what he was referring to. She wanted to reach out and touch him, try to push away the dark memories that were darkening the icy gray eyes.

He needed warmth.

And she needed a head check if she thought a Malfoy would welcome any sympathy from a Weasley.

Harry spoke then, his voice unyielding. "How do we know you aren't spying for him?"

Draco smiled unpleasantly. "You'll have to take my word for it."

"And I know how much that's worth." Harry sneered.

"Nevertheless, that's all I have to offer." Draco added, "You'll need all hands on deck to defeat Voldemort." He shrugged gracefully. "I'm prepared to hire mine out."

Ginny wanted to laugh at this typically Draco statement. She glanced at Harry and was surprised to see his face relaxing.

"That sounds marginally more believable." Harry said.

"Nevertheless, I'll have to give you a truth potion." Bernard told Draco. "Standard procedure. I'm sure you understand."

"Perfectly. I have no objection." Draco smiled again, and Ginny was suddenly aware of how controlled Draco was. Even his smile was measured.

"And I'm afraid we can't pay you very much -"

"You'll have to." Draco said, cutting Bernard off. "I'll be acting as the ardent Voldemort lover my father wants me to be, and reporting his activities back to you. I'm sure you agree with me that that is highly dangerous. No doubt Potter here would do it out of sheer rainbow love for doing good, but I'm afraid I'm not quite so noble."

Harry's face went black with anger.

"Besides," Draco went on smoothly, "once Voldemort is defeated and my father finds out that I had a hand in it, I will be very surprised if I'm not disowned. And even if I'm not - I've no doubt that the Ministry will manage to suck the Malfoy coffers dry. Got to save up for the day I don't have access to the Malfoy millions, you know. You wouldn't want me to be penniless, would you?"

The thought made Ginny want to laugh harder than ever. The blackmailing rascal.

"I'll discuss it with Fudge."

"Don't tell me that blithering idiot is still in charge." Draco said with mild surprise.

"He is still in charge." Harry said stiffly. Ginny knew that he had a very low opinion of Fudge's competence himself - he just didn't want to admit that he actually shared something with Draco.

"I'll Owl Fudge now." Bernard said briskly, getting up. "I'll have the reply in about an hour - make yourself comfortable, Malfoy." He left, leaving the three alone.

"Speaking of getting comfortable -" Draco said, slanting a look at Harry. "I don't suppose I get any of your perks, do I? You know. The red-haired kind."

Harry was enraged. "How dare you - you cretin - how dare you speak of Ginny that way - "

Ginny had the feeling Draco was trying to rile both her and Harry. Fortunately, anything that riled Harry was fine with her, especially after the way he'd just treated her, so she just laughed. She glanced at Draco, and he looked back at her. She had a vague feeling that he was surprised.

They were all surprised when Hermione and Ron Apparated in front of them.

They turned immediately to Harry, who looked at them questioningly. Ginny felt that sense of being excluded again, as she always did when she was around them. It was funny how some things still rankled after a long time, even after she'd stopped liking Harry and after she'd lost the closeness she'd once had with her brother. Of course, that was partly why she'd lost that closeness . . .

She turned away slightly, not wanting to make them slant her that unified look of theirs, the one that politely said, Could you please move away? You're not one of us, you see . . .

Better to move away before you got hurt . . .

Draco was sitting on the couch, studying her. She had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew every thought that was passing through her mind. "Want some coffee?" Ginny asked him abruptly, wanting to get away from Harry. Wanting to stop Draco from giving her that oddly piercing look.

"Of course." Draco got to his feet gracefully. He moved extremely gracefully for someone his length. "But I'll come with you. All this Three Musketeer goodness is making me see pink rainbows everywhere."

The Three Musketeers gave him a look of extreme dislike.

Ginny grinned as she moved into the small kitchenette across the hall. "You're finding it extremely easy to be nice." She said to him, with heavy sarcasm lacing her tone. She was feeling an inexplicable liking of this man. Maybe it was the way he loved to get Harry all worked up. Maybe it was the way he so obviously disliked the Three Musketeers.

Or maybe it was the tingling she got all over when she was near him.

"I'm working for the good side, not having a personality transplant."

Ginny started making the coffee, pouring boiling water into a mug. "You've got a point there." She handed him the mug.

Draco immediately took a sip, never mind that it was boiling hot. She had to hand it to him, he didn't even flinch. He set the mug down and studied her again. In that way. The way that made her want to cover her face and turn away.

She turned, making herself a mug of tea.

"So what's up with you and Potter?"

Ginny wanted to ask why he cared. It was such a personal question that she didn't know what to say. It certainly wasn't the kind of question a normal adult would ask - especially an adult whom they hardly talked to. She smiled blandly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean why are you acting like you hate him when the last I saw you were about to shag him on the desk?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. "I was not going to shag him. Not that it's any of your business." She amended quickly.

"Maybe not." Draco agreed. "But I'd like to know anyway."

Ginny looked at him, his cocky, arrogant face, cool eyes and gorgeous sex-on-a-stick-ness. Then she laughed. "Bollocks. You'd love for me not to tell you so you have an excuse to bugger me about it and annoy Harry even more than you're doing now."

Draco smiled. It was a quick, sudden smile, and it had Ginny transfixed. It was such a real smile, not the kind he gave to Hopper or Harry, but a happy, real one. It made the cool face soften and warm.

Briefly, anyway.

Ginny had the feeling he didn't give out those smiles very often.

A/n: More Draco/Ginny interaction next chapter and one of the trio meets an unfortunate end. R&R please!

Disclaimer: Once again HP characters and settings belong to J.K. Rowling. These first two chapters were written by my co-author, Renebre- so all compliments and critiques are dedicated to her.

Chapter Three

"I hate this." Hermione said.

"I know you do." Ron said finally. He smiled at her. "I do too."

"Then how can you stay so calm?" Hermione asked, whirling around and fixing an accusing stare on him.

"Because I have faith in our Ministry of Magic." Ron said lazily. "I also have faith in Harry." He added shrewdly.

Hermione flushed. "I have faith in Harry." She defended.

"Good." Ron replied. "Because he deserves it."

"I know he does." She said quietly. "But I'm scared for him anyway."

Ron sat up and hugged her. "Don't worry about Harry. Harry has been waiting for this all his life. It's what he was meant to do. I don't know how to explain it. But it's right."

"What if You-Know-Who kills Harry?" Hermione asked angrily. "I'm not like you. I can't accept that if You-Know-Who kills Harry that it was the right thing to happen. How would you feel, Ron, if Harry was killed?"

She saw his lips tighten. "I would hate it." Ron said simply. "But it wouldn't surprise me."

He stopped Hermione from speaking. "Someone has to die, Hermione. We just have to have faith that it will be You-Know-Who and not Harry."

"Good wins out over evil?"

A quick smile. "We can't keep Harry from doing what he was meant to do."

"Battle with You-Know-Who?"

"Yes."

Hermione smiled back at him reluctantly, trying to lighten the mood with a change of subject: "did you notice how good-looking Draco Malfoy has become?"

He'd noticed more than that. He'd noticed the way Malfoy had followed his little sister into the kitchen. He'd also noticed that the two of them had stayed in there for quite a while. And when they had come out, how unconsciously the two of them had stood together, as if they were allies instead of enemies, a sturdy, united front against the rest of the world.

He said, "Yes." He added dryly, "Not a wormy little ferret anymore."

"Grew out of his wormy ferretness, I suppose." Hermione sighed again. "He's got quite a way about him."

Ron frowned. That was what he was worried about. He didn't want his sister getting mixed up with a Malfoy. Any Malfoy. Not now, when he knew from his father that the Malfoy name was all that was saving Lucius Malfoy from being summarily arrested and executed. And who was to say Draco Malfoy was any different -

"Do you think so?" he settled for saying.

"Oh yes." Hermione asked, "What do you think he was in the Ministry for?"

"Harry told us to forget he was ever there," said Ron, his tone final.

_____

Ginny watched Harry and Ron rummage. Ron had joined the Ministry the week before, as had many other wizards and witches.

It was official.

The war had begun.

It was open now, open war between Voldemort's - she'd gotten used to everyone saying “Voldemort” in the Ministry instead of “You-Know-Who” - ranks and the rest of the wizarding world.

Harry and Ron were suiting up for an attack against the Dementors. Their brooms were being fitted with accelerators and defense spells. The rest of the wizards were suiting up on the first floor. Harry had come up to deposit a document that Hopper had asked him to drop in.

"Wait." Ginny said suddenly, as they started to go out the door. "I'll come down with you."

Ron slanted her a look of surprise. Lately Ginny had been going to great lengths to avoid Harry, even when he was with other people. She was tired of it. Never mind that Harry had kissed her and was now pretending he didn't even know her. Never mind that he was a smarmy, annoying, hateful bastard of a git.

She was just going to act like a mature adult and pretend he wasn’t there.

Ginny came down the last step behind Ron and Harry and watched as they walked off to collect their wands, which were being checked.

She looked around the room. Dozens of wizards milled around, many of them wizards she recognized from Hogwarts. She knew from Bernard that wizards from all around the world were rallying together and fighting in their own countries.

“Ginny Weasley?”

Ginny looked up and saw a thin, angular face looking at her. “Colin?”

The young man laughed and held out his hand. “Hi! I haven’t seen you in years!”

Ginny laughed as well. “No, you haven’t.” She shook his hand. “What have you been doing?”

“This and that.” Colin said evasively. He grinned engagingly. “Which basically means mucking about doing nothing.”

“Good for you.” Ginny said, smiling. “Are you -“ she waved a hand vaguely. “Part of this?”

Colin’s eyes twinkled. “Everyone’s got to do his part.”

Ginny thought about that as Colin moved away. Yes, she thought. Everyone has to do their part.

“Ginny, we’re leaving now.” Ron said, jerking her out of her thoughts. He gestured to the dozen men lined up near the entrance. “Hopper wants to go now.”

Ginny looked at her big brother, who looked so strong and reassuring in his simplicity. He grinned down at her. “All right?”

Ginny surprised both of them by pulling him into a hug. “All right.” She said against his chest. She let go and smoothed out his robes sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Ron was red. “All right.” He repeated. He gave her a stern look. “And we’ll talk about this thing with Harry when I get back.”

“Aye aye.” Ginny mocked.

Ron scowled at her. Then he jogged off, pausing only once to grin at her over his shoulder. It was an appealing grin, a grin that said, How did I, Ron Weasley, get here anyway?

_____

She never saw her brother alive again.

She remembered everything with a startling clarity that she wished would blur and give her some blessed forgetfulness.

But she remembered.

She remembered Harry coming back, his face cut, his eyes almost numb. His eyes telling the world that he wished he was numb.

He walked towards her and Hermione, who had gotten up, her hand flying to her throat, her eyes widening, knowing what was going to come -

She remembered him saying, “Ron’s dead. They killed him.” With startling bluntness, and an almost childlike truthfulness. She remembered Hermione giving a cry, so full of pain that she flinched to hear it. She remembered thinking that her mother and father would have cried just like that if they had been there. She remembered wondering if Bill and Charlie would know -

And she remembered her loneliness.

Hermione had fallen into Harry’s arms, and they had clung together, lost in their grief, shutting her out.

She remembered thinking she would never care if Ron, Hermione and Harry shut her out again, if only Ron would come back.

But he would never come back.

She had sat down, by herself.

Her parents had come, with Bill, Charlie, Percy and the twins.

Her parents had each other.

Bill and Charlie had each other - Percy had his wife.

Fred and George had each other.

She was alone.

Ron wasn’t there to sit by her and grin and join her, their bond of being the youngest and the ones always left out of their older brothers’ actions always there.

They’d grown away from each other - he had Harry and Hermione, and later she had had her own friends - but they’d still been brother and sister, and he’d been the closest to her . . .

And now he was gone . . .

And all she had to hold on to was herself, as around her, her family mourned.

He was gone . . .

_____

Draco sat at the dining table, eating his lunch with precision.

“The Dark Lord will be coming for dinner tomorrow.” His father said. He fixed a cold stare on Draco. “I trust you will be here to honour him.”

Draco let the words hang in the air for a while before he answered. “Of course, Father.” He said, his words heavy with sarcasm. The man sitting across from him was not his father. The man sitting across from him had no claim on him. He had given that right up the day he’d wilfully murdered his wife.

And Draco’s mother.

“Good.” His father picked up his wine goblet and drank delicately. “He desires our help.”

“In what?” Draco asked, purposely bored.

“It is not my place to discuss it.” His father paused. “He will tell you himself when he arrives.”

“Or perhaps it isn’t your place to know.” Draco murmured blandly.

His father’s voice sharpened. “I will not tolerate insolence from you.”

Draco met his father’s eyes, his own as hard as flint, but he did not speak. There was no need.

There was no need to antagonize his father now. Later would provide plenty of opportunity.

Draco’s hand tightened on his own goblet briefly.

Yes, later.

He got through the rest of the meal without conversation, then stood up to leave. He couldn’t stand this house anymore.

The stench of murder hung heavy.

_____

When he arrived at the Ministry of Magic, cloaked in invisibility, he was surprised at its seeming silence. The Ministry was never silent. He hoped Voldemort hadn't attacked. He didn't want to be deprived of watching the bastard fall.

Draco cautiously went up the lift and waited impatiently for the doors to open. When they did, he stepped out, his wand drawn, his movements quick.

And then he stopped.

The Weasley family sat before him, all in various stages of a grief so potent that Draco could taste it, the stringent, bitter taste. His gaze swept over all of them –

_____

Potter and Granger, clinging to each other as if they would collapse if they let go, Arthur and Molly Weasley, the former just holding the latter as she wept into his shoulder, his face dazed. Bill and Charlie Weasley, sitting together, not touching, simply staring at the ground, and the twins, who looked Siamese at the moment, joined at the side . . .

Then there was Ginny Weasley.

She sat slightly apart from the rest of her family, looking so alone that it was as if there was a thick wall between her and them. She was hunched over her knees, her long cartoon-red hair hanging over her face, her hands tightly gripping her seat.

They were obviously oblivious to his entrance, so Draco stepped forward and let his Invisibility Cloak slip off his shoulders, his gaze still fixed on Ginny Weasley. He felt curiously, inexplicably drawn to her, as if he had to go to her and nothing could stop him. She reminded him of someone -

Recognition of the resemblance shocked him.

Himself.

Himself when his father had informed him that his mother was dead.

Alone . . .

So alone . . .

He felt a sudden heated urge to slap her family and tell them to their ignorant faces that she needed comfort as well . . .

For what?

He took a few decisive steps forward and knelt in front of the woman who sat so alone. "Weasley." He shook her slightly. "Weasley."

"What?" Ginny asked wearily, looking up at him. Her eyes were dry, Draco saw and he felt an unpleasant tingle at the base of his spine when he asked,

"What happened?"

Ginny answered in a strangely normal way, as if surprised that he even had to ask. "Ron's dead."

"How did he die?"

"The Dementors killed him."

Draco leaned back on his heels, pausing a moment to digest this. He'd known the Ministry was planning an attack on the Dementors, he just hadn't thought it would be just then.

"When?"

Ginny looked at him again and looked back down at her lap. "Just now."

Draco glanced around again - the Weasley family was still lost in their grief. "Come on." He pulled her gently but forcefully to her feet. "We're leaving."

"Where are we going?" Ginny asked. Draco didn't like her odd acceptance of everything. He suspected she was in shock.

He led her into the elevator and wrapped his Invisibility Cloak around the both of them, uneasy at her lack of reaction. He didn't want to be seen exiting the Ministry. He jabbed the down button before answering, "Just across the road."

He had to lead her across the road and order a cup of coffee for her, after hastily removing his Cloak. He surreptitiously asked the plump waitress to put a few spoonfuls of brandy into it. He had an awkward time subduing the waitress's indignant squawks, as she apparently didn't trust his motives, but he succeeded finally. He slipped onto the bench beside her and studied her, feeling slightly out of his element. Not that he hadn't dealt with emotionally unstable females before. They just hadn't usually been unstable over a dead brother, that was all.

In fact, their instability had usually been over something a lot easier to deal with.

A lot more basic.

Something a lot like sex.

They sat in silence for a while. When the coffee came, Ginny picked it up and downed it, looking perfectly normal. It was only when she set her cup down that she spoke.

"Ron's dead." She looked at Draco and repeated, "Ron's dead."

There was nothing to say. "I know." Draco said simply. Your mother is dead.

And Ginny lay her head down on his shoulder and cried.

And Draco just let her cry, looking out the window at the dark street and at the single lamp post shining orange on the hard road.

_____

Ron's funeral was the next week.

It was a simple funeral, quiet and sombre. Ginny looked at her brother's grave, and at the plain white headstone which crowned it.

Ronald Weasley.

1981 - 2007.

Beloved son, brother and friend.

Hate, virulent and thick suffused Ginny. She hated Voldemort.

The bastard would pay . . .

Ginny breathed deeply. Yes, the bastard would pay, but not now.

And she would not disrespect her brother's memory by thinking of him at his funeral.

Mourners came and went. Ginny was not surprised at the amount - she wanted more. She wanted more people to come and she wanted to scream at the world to stop moving for a while, to honour her brother who had never done anything bad, and who didn't deserve to die now . . .

She would not dishonour her brother by crying anymore. Crying did nothing - it achieved nothing.

Voldemort would pay.

Ginny stood in the Burrow when the funeral was over. Mourners filed through the house during the reception. She watched them come and go, keeping herself apart, so that they wouldn't come to her and tell her how sorry they were. She didn't want that. Not now.

Hermione.

Ginny watched her from across the room, and an impulse went through her. Hermione had loved Ron -

She needed to share her grief with someone who held that same grief. Hermione was holding herself so tightly that she looked like she was about to shatter.

Ginny crossed the room to Hermione. "Hermione -"

"Don't." Hermione held her hand out and shook her head. "Don't."

Shock rippled through Ginny. "I just wanted to -"

"Don't." A voice came from behind Hermione. Harry's green eyes met hers, looked at her from far away.

They stood united.

They were shutting her out.

But she had to try -

"I loved him too -"

"You didn't - you didn't know him like we did." Hermione said. Her grief was not gentle - a harsh shudder wracked her body. "Please, Ginny -"

Please leave.

"Please -" Harry repeated. His gaze softened slightly as it met hers. "I'm sorry." He said, gently. "But we need to grieve for Ron our friend, not Ron your brother. Your family is outside."

"I understand." Ginny said quietly. She restrained her shiver, and lifted her chin to meet the taller woman's eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but didn't. "I understand." She repeated, moving away.

She looked out the window at her family and despair went through her. They were broken up - her parents, her two eldest brothers, the twins, Percy and his wife.

And her -

It's supposed to be the two youngest . . .

Ginny and Ron . . .

Ginny realized suddenly that if Ron had been there he would have been with Harry and Hermione.

All alone.

She needed to leave. This despair was the enemy.

She glanced at her family, and then at Harry and Hermione.

Anger.

Yes, that was good. Anger was good.

She grabbed her coat. She would leave.

_____

"Isn't your brother's funeral today?"

Ginny glanced up from her typewriter at the face of Draco Malfoy. He was leaning against the wall as he had been the first time she'd seen him, those few weeks ago. She had known he would come to the Ministry today. "Yes." She rolled a fresh sheet of paper in. She smiled at him. She had not thanked him for his comfort that night a week ago.

Draco walked over. He glanced down at the paper and lifted a sardonic eyebrow. "Then why are you typing up Hopper's letters?"

Ginny took her hands off the typewriter and studied Draco. He was very handsome, she thought with a thrill of anticipation.

Being alive was good.

"You're right." Ginny replied, standing. She went to stand beside him and he turned to face her. "I could be doing much better things."

The eyebrow lifted again. "Such as?"

Being alive was good. And she needed ammunition against the hurt Harry could still make her feel.

She placed her hands on his chest and looked up at him.

"Shagging you senseless."

His hands were on her waist and his mouth was coming down on hers. She had not expected this hot explosion of sensation. Hot breath as he spoke.

"Your wish is my command."

A/n: Once again credit for this chapter goes to Renebre, as she wrote the first four chapters.

And I would like to make it clear that this story was never Ginny/Harry, they were never together and hopefully now you can see that it is in fact Ginny/Draco. The one time they kissed was a mistake that exploded from impassioned feelings, we all do things we regret when we're in an impassioned state. Perhaps Ginny is still attracted to Harry in some way, but she definitely doesn't feel any type of warm feelings for him. In this chapter she's very bitter, granted, she always was bitter about Harry (in the beginning of this fic) but now she utterly loathes him for the way he shut her out and de-emphasized her grief.

Chapter 4 : Grief

Ginny opened her eyes languorously and allowed her head to loll on her neck. A small smile crossed her face briefly and she let herself bask in the simple pleasure of being warm and feeling safe.

She let her head roll to her left and the smile left her face as she took in Draco Malfoy's sleeping face.

He looked so Draco, lying there, sleeping. He didn't lose himself in sleep like so many people did - he didn't look angelic or vulnerable or anything soft. He was simply himself - faintly threatening, his beauty a weapon . . .

Lucifer . . .

The only soft thing about him was the sensual curve of his lips, and remembering the things he had done to her the night before, Ginny almost blushed at the knowing tilt of those red lips.

He'd been shocked that she was a virgin - and she felt a surge of anger as she remembered his reaction. Looking back, she supposed it showed a sort of fairness on his part - he hadn't allowed her to lose herself; he'd made her face all the things she was trying to run from by having sex with him. He hadn't let it become a one-night thing, he hadn't let her make him into a receptacle for her passions - he'd hadn't let her reduce him to nothing . . .

"Saving yourself for Potter?"

She'd gasped, her body arching beneath him. "I hate you."

He'd smiled down at her and it hadn't been a nice smile, it had been a smile of hunger, and sensual promises. He'd withdrawn from her slightly and plunged deeper. "I know." He'd started moving then, igniting sharp shocks of pleasure throughout her body. Deeper. Faster. "Shall we see how much?"

Draco opened his eyes suddenly and saw her looking at him. "Weasley." He said.

It was so typical of Draco to be alert even when he woke in the morning, so typical of him not to have the normal huskiness of sleep in his voice like other wizards. Ginny smiled down at him, her head propped up with her elbow. "Malfoy." She rejoined.

An unwilling smile curved the red lips. "It doesn't say much for my prowess that you're up before me."

"I wouldn't say that." Ginny said slyly, looking pointedly at how the sheet covering his nudity was tenting. "I'd say you're very much - up."

The smile grew. "Insatiable, are we?"

Ginny licked her lips. "Complaining?"

Draco trailed a finger down her neck, smiling when she shuddered convulsively. The finger gently pulled down the sheet covering her breasts. He looked at her and his eyes darkened with an emotion Ginny couldn't identify. Lust, warmth, heat . . .

"Complain?" Draco repeated, even as his large, bony hands stroked her and made her shiver. "No . . ."

Harry stared at the ceiling of the room in the Burrow that Ron had pretended to share with him.

Ron.

Always, it came back to Ron.

And now he was gone.

The anchor that had always pulled him back to the Burrow, no matter where he was, was suddenly gone, and he was lost.

Ron.

Harry wanted, desperately, to cry, to grieve for his friend, for the friend who'd tried to be a brother to him, who'd staunchly supported him except for that time in Fourth Year, who'd given him a family to replace the one he didn't have, who'd given him friendship and companionship and unconditional acceptance -

But he couldn't, not yet.

He was too tired.

The hate he'd harboured towards Voldemort had gone with Ron's death. Leaked out, fell away, like poison from a septic wound when it was released.

All that was left was a bone-deep weariness, longing so strong it bordered on painful, a deep, deep longing just for it to be over. For Voldemort to win or for Voldemort to lose - it didn't matter to Harry anymore. He just wanted it to be over.

And he couldn't help thinking that if Voldemort won, then this weariness would be gone, because he'd be dead . . .

And he couldn't help thinking that death would almost be welcome . . .

No. He couldn't think this way. Voldemort had to lose, to die, to pay for all the lives he had taken, so ruthlessly. Taking lives and giving pain and grief and sorrow in return. He would burn in hell.

All the pain.

Ron -

Red hair, brown eyes. A young boy who pretended not to be looking at his scar that first time in the train. Whose ears turned red and who pretended he wasn't poor.

A young boy who had been so good at chess that he'd beaten McGonagall's giant chess set that first year of fighting Voldemort.

Red hair, brown eyes. Brown eyes that sparkled with excitement when taking his father's car up into the air, brown eyes that grew darker with annoyance at Gilderoy Lockhart and impatience with gits, brown eyes that tried desperately to hide his fear and anxiety when he'd thought his little sister was dead.

Brown eyes that had grown bright with relief and joy when he'd found out his sister was alive.

Red hair, brown eyes. A boy just before adolescence, a boy who'd pretended to hold no affection for a useless pet rat and yet had been upset when the pet had been thought dead. A boy just before adolescence with a passion for Quidditch and a hatred of cats.

A boy just before adolescence who had broken his leg and gritted his teeth, a boy who had renounced murder and murderers and his pet rat . . .

Red hair, brown eyes.

Red hair that flashed in the light as he stomped away from his best friend, red hair that grew blinding in the sunlight when he came back to his best friend.

Red hair, brown eyes, Ron Weasley . . .

Brown eyes that had widened in shock when the Dementors came near . . .

Brown eyes that no longer held any emotion . . .

He wanted, so badly, just to cry, to let the huge ball of emotion blocking his throat and tightening his stomach go away. But he couldn’t.

He wanted to scream, not any words, just a scream of pure noise, anger, fear, regret.

Ron!

A knock came on his door and Hermione came in, her face white and pinched. “Harry.” She whispered.

Harry didn’t do anything, he didn’t sit up or speak, he simply held out his arms for the one person he had left in the world.

And Hermione walked into his arms and held him close.

As they lay there, together, he could hear her heart beat, slowly, and each thud was like a drumbeat of sorrow, because they both knew that it was supposed to be Ron who held Hermione in his arms and heard her heart beat, Ron who should be lying there, Ron who should be alive!

It had always been Ron who had been the centre of their group. It was Ron who had pulled them together as a group, Ron who made them laugh.

Who will make me laugh now?

It was easy to remember Ron, to remember his easy, large grin, his gift for chess and his undiluted pride in that fact. To remember the long, loose-limbed walk, the sudden, happy laugh, the sweet look in his eyes when he had looked at Hermione. To remember the complaints about his height, the easy affectionate way he could reach out to the children he taught, and the way his ears turned red when he was embarrassed.

Ron.

It wasn’t him who should have died, Harry thought bitterly. It should have been someone else, someone who didn’t have as much to give the world, who didn’t have as many friends, or family to grieve for him . . .

Someone who wasn’t Ron Weasley.

And he knew Hermione was thinking the same thing.

So they lay there together, one unable to grieve, and the other grieving too much, as the night grew darker and the moon shone benevolently through the window, mocking their loss.

“What happened, Weasley?” Draco asked, propped up against the headboard of his bed, one arm around her shoulders.

Ginny reluctantly pulled herself back to reality and glanced at him. “What do you mean?” She gave a half-smile. “I’d bet that you know way more about what just happened than I do.”

A faint smile twisted Draco’s lips, but it faded away quickly. “You know what I mean.”

Ginny sat up, displacing his arm from around her shoulders. “Yes.” She agreed, quietly. She slid off the bed and stood up. “Which is why I’m going to leave now.”

Draco watched her start to dress, putting on her bra. “Is that how it’s going to be?”

Ginny fastened her bra and gave him a cool look. “Yes.” She looked around and frowned. “Where did you put my underwear?”

Draco smirked. “I think you left it in the office.”

Ginny scowled. “Great. What’s Hopper going to think?”

“I don’t want to know.” Draco mumbled. He studied the young woman who stood near the bed, trying without success to arrange her hair. A memory came to him, of the hunched, dazed woman he’d seen in the Ministry of Magic, who’d cried on his shoulder and made him remember his own isolation.

He stood, suddenly, and tossed his boxers at her. “Wear those. I’m taking you to breakfast.”

“Yeh, and I’m going to suddenly be able to afford to buy out Harrods.” Ginny pulled on the boxers and frowned as they promptly fell off. “Do you have a safety pin?”

Draco pulled on another pair of silk boxers before turning and frowning at her. “You’re too thin, Weasley.”

“Maybe you’re just too fat.” Ginny retorted, somewhat lamely, having ample memories of a nude body that proved her words wrong. “I would have thought you’d like your women skinny. You know. Tall, skinny, blonde.”

“It turns out I’m preferring them short, skinny and redheaded.” Draco mumbled to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing. Get dressed.”

“Well I would if you’d just give me a safety pin.”

“Here.” Draco’s warm hands were suddenly on her waist, fastening the boxers securely.

Ginny looked down at the gold fastener. “Is that a tie-clip?”

“Armani.” Draco replied, pulling on his robes.

“Figures you wouldn’t have a normal safety pin.”

Draco looked over his shoulder and smirked at her. “Malfoys are never normal. We are above and beyond the norm in everything.” He quirked an eyebrow at her suggestively. “You should know that from last night.”

“All right, well, when I get a comparative value to last night I’ll let you know.” Ginny said, her voice muffled as she struggled to get into her robes.

When her head finally popped out of the black swaths of cotton she saw Draco glaring at her. She smiled sweetly. “Afraid you won’t measure up?”

Draco turned away. “Get dressed.” He snapped.

Ginny frowned as he walked out of the room, and then smiled. No, she was being stupid. Draco Malfoy, jealous?

“What are you going to have?” Ginny asked, looking at the menu.

She’d decided to give in with grace, and allow Draco to buy her breakfast. Her decision had been helped by the long, hard kiss he’d given her on her way out his door.

Ginny tried not to frown at the remembrance. The kiss had disturbed her, and so had the way he’d taken her hand as they walked towards the restaurant. It had been so – natural. She hadn’t even realized he’d taken it until the waitress had glanced at their hands. Her expression had been disappointed.

It was like Draco was refusing to let himself be dismissed the way she had wanted to dismiss him. She’d have thought he’d be relieved – he seemed like the kind of man who preferred one-night stands. She knew he was the kind of man who preferred one-night stands. A few discreet inquiries of Pansy Parkinson had yielded much information on the handsome white haired young man who sat across from her, studying her as if he knew every thought that passed through her mind.

He was always studying her – he had been since that night she’d cried in his arms. Always looking at her with those cool gray eyes that gave nothing away and made her want to lower her eyes.

She met the look squarely and repeated, “What are you going to have?”

His eyes lowered to the menu. Ginny was glad for the reprieve. He could see too much, this man, when she didn't want him to see anything at all.

"Waffles." He said decisively, handing his menu to the waitress who hovered dutifully at his elbow. Or perhaps not dutifully, Ginny thought suddenly. She surveyed Draco discreetly. She'd always thought he was beautiful, almost too beautiful to be real. Despite his beauty, he exuded a raw, potent sexuality, enhanced by the elegant, tailored suits he wore, which should have suppressed his virility but instead pointed it out all the more.

"With fresh strawberries." Draco added, as if in afterthought. He slanted a glance at her. "And you?"

Ginny quickly looked back down at the menu. "Scrambled eggs and sausages."

He repeated her order to the waitress, as if she hadn't heard it, waited for her to leave, and then turned back to Ginny. "Are you ready to talk?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. "I didn't agree to talk."

"No, but you will." Draco replied smoothly. "What happened?"

"You didn't seem to care last night." Ginny said hotly. "I don't owe you anything, Malfoy. I certainly don't owe you an explanation for my behaviour."

"So I'm to pretend last night was a mistake on your part."

"Certainly not." Ginny said, folding her napkin neatly. "I never make mistakes." She narrowed her eyes at him again. "If anyone has any explaining to do, it's you, Malfoy."

"I'm not in the habit of turning down pretty, needy redheads when they throw themselves at me."

"I'm not needy." Ginny said shortly. She sighed, looked down at her cutlery and then looked up, flashing him a half-hearted smile. "Aren't we acting silly?"

Draco said nothing.

"Look," Ginny said suddenly, giving him a winsome smile. "Can't we just say that last night was a fun experience and just go on being frien - whatever we are?"

He was studying her again.

"We might," Draco said finally, "If you hadn't been a virgin."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"A woman's first time is always important." Draco said simply. He smiled briefly. "If I've learned anything, I've learnt that. A woman's first time is not just a 'fun experience'. That plus the fact that it hasn't even been two weeks since your brother died, and I'm inclined to believe that something important happened last night."

Ginny took a deep breath. "You're wrong."

"Am I?"

She burst out, "Why does everything have to mean something?"

"Not everything."

"Then why do you care?"

His eyes flashed. "Maybe I just don't like being used."

"I'd say you do your fair share of using." Ginny retorted.

"Then maybe I just don't like being a substitute for someone." Draco said coldly. "Like Potter."

Ginny slapped him.

His pale cheek burned red, and she could see her finger marks. Her skin dried and went hot, then cold.

"At last, the truth." Draco murmured.

"It's not the truth!" Ginny shoved her chair back. "Do you want to know the truth, Malfoy? The truth, then! I hate Harry Potter! I hate him! And at the moment I hate you too!" Her cheeks flared red, and she sat, paralysed in her chair, great sweeps of emotion drowning her, making her drag in huge gulps of air.

Then it was too much and she sobbed.

She was vaguely aware of the waitress gaping at her with huge, interested eyes, of Draco standing up and paying, of Draco gently guiding her from the restaurant.

Then he helped her sit down, putting his arm around her, his warm, solid body cushioning hers.

Ron, Harry, Hermione, Draco, Mum, Dad . . .

The world was whirling with faces and things and nothing would ever stay still again.

Ron Ron Ron . . .

"He was my brother!" Ginny sobbed, clinging to Draco as if she were a child.

She was clinging to him as if she was a child, as if she needed someone so desperately and was afraid he would go away and leave her. "He was my brother!"

"Sshh." Draco soothed.

She was clinging closer and closer, trying to be as close to him as possible, so he simply lifted her onto his lap and held her tight. Something in him thrilled at holding this woman so close, at smelling the leftover shampoo scent in her long red hair, at the soft smoothness of her fair skin, at the way she melted trustingly into his touch even while she cried.

And that something scared him, because it whispered to him how right they were together . . .

Last night had been - incredible. Strange. She had been everything he'd wanted in a lover - wild, fierce, gentle, tender, giving, taking - and he'd been shocked that she was a virgin.

Even in her inexperience she had pleased him.

Or pleased was too mild a word.

Driven out of my mind with bliss? Completed? Fulfilled? And when exactly did you lose all your testosterone, Malfoy?

Finally she calmed and rubbed her eyes fiercely on her robes. She looked up at him sheepishly. "Sorry." She mumbled, moving carefully off his lap. "Not supposed to cry."

"Why not?" He shrugged indifferently. "Everyone cries."

"Crying does nothing." Ginny said, as if repeating something oft heard. "Nothing."

"Probably not." Draco agreed. "Except scare passers-by."

Ginny smiled at him faintly. "Except that."

She seemed content to sit there with him, as the crisp English air whisked red into their cheeks and made them inch closer to each other unconsciously.

"Ready to tell me about it?"

"You make it sound like I was going to tell you about it all along."

"You were." He replied, with such sure certainty that she smiled. "You just didn't know about it."

"I still don't know why you give a damn, Malfoy." Ginny sighed and twisted her fingers. "I was mad. Angry. Upset. Harry and Hermione basically told me that my grief was less than theirs because Ron was their friend." Her lips twisted into a thin, bitter line. "They don't know. They didn't know Ron when he was a kid. They weren't there when he broke his leg when he was six and he made me promise not to tell anyone he cried. They weren't there all the times George and Fred and Charlie and Bill and Percy ganged up on us because we were the youngest. They don't know that Ron had asthma or that he hates mosquitoes or that he likes the weather channel. They don't know - "

"Was that what -"

"No, that wasn't it." Ginny interrupted, flashing him a bitter smile. "I loved Ron. He was my favourite brother. We were so close - right up until he went to Hogwarts. That summer he came home with stories about his two new best friends, Harry and Hermione. How Harry did this. And how Hermione did that." She lowered her head. "Suddenly it wasn't me and Ron anymore. It was Ron and Harry and Hermione. I liked them, I really did." She stared into space. "But I always resented the fact that they took my brother away from me."

"They didn't take your brother away from you."

"No?" Ginny didn't look at him. "Then tell me why when they told me that they had to grieve for Ron their friend and not Ron my brother, I knew they were right? Ron stopped being my friend a long time ago. They're right. They know more about my brother than I ever will - because I never nearly died with him, because I lost his friendship when he met them."

Draco was quiet.

He understood, more, perhaps, than she did. Ron had been hers - the Terrific Two had taken him away. Harry had been hers - Cho Chang had taken him away.

He'd felt the same way . . .

His mother had been his, and his father had taken her away . . .

They were so alike, he and her. Possessive, alone . . .

But with his arm around her, holding her tight, Draco Malfoy knew exactly what was happening.

He would never be alone, because she was his.

Harry came downstairs rubbing his eyes blearily. It was hard to think on about half an hour of sleep, but he tried valiantly. He was aware that Molly Weasley was at the stove, making breakfast, and he was also aware that the kitchen was empty. He glanced up at the clock and got a shock of surprise.

Ron's hand was whirling around the clock, around and around, not stopping.

Mrs. Weasley glanced at him. "What's wrong, Harry -" she looked at the clock. Her lips quivered and her eyes trembled with tears. "Oh." She drew out her wand. "Distenio."

The hand flew out from the clock and tucked itself neatly into a drawer.

Like Ron's life, Harry thought dully.

Mrs. Weasley turned away and discreetly rubbed away her tears, giving a big sniff before turning back to him. "Would you like some breakfast?"

Harry nodded. He looked back up at the clock. Mr. Weasley was at work. Bill and Charlie were getting drunk. At this time in the morning? Percy was at work. Fred and George were "Up To No Good". Ginny was halfway between "Up To No Good" and "With A Friend". Harry took that to mean up to no good with a friend.

Some guilt washed over him when he remembered Ginny's stricken face the day before. She hadn't deserved to be shut away like that - she'd been Ron's sister and had probably loved him as much as any of them. He should probably apologize to her -

When he wasn't feeling so tired.

Yes, for a while . . .

A/n: Hope you guys enjoyed that! That and the last one were my favorite chapters so far. This concludes the last chapter that Renebre wrote, from hereon out, I will be completing the story.

R&R!

Chapter 5: Unmade

Cause all of the stars have faded away

Just try not to worry, you’ll see them someday

Take what you need and be on your way

And stop crying your heart out

- Oasis

As Ginny returned to the familiar, yet no longer comforting sight of the Burrow, she carefully inched the door open, hoping no one would notice her coming in. Shutting the door quietly, she headed softly for the stairs until she heard a very distinctive "Ginny!"

"Yes, Mum?" She winced. Straightening her back into a position of rigidity, Ginny readied herself for an argument. No longer would she be treated like the child she was not; a full grown woman could go wherever she wanted to whenever she wanted to without having to answer to anyone.

However the telling off that Ginny was preparing for never came as her mother enveloped her in a fierce hug. Tentatively, she returned the hug, her voice wavering a bit as she hesitantly asked, "Mum?"

Abruptly releasing her daughter and wiping away at the stray tears that had silently crept down her face, Molly Weasley smiled weakly as she glanced over her daughter, regarding her thoughtfully. She didn't say anything, however, simply commenting, "I just missed having a full table at breakfast today, that's all."

A twinge of guilt gnawed at Ginny, filling her with regret for the first time since she'd decided to take her grief out on Draco Malfoy. "I'm sorry, Mum," she said contritely. "I hope you weren't feeling too lonely."

Molly shook her head, saying, "No, luckily Harry was here to keep me company."

Guilt replaced anger inside Ginny at the sound of Harry Potter's name. First he stole her brother and now he was stealing her mother? "Is he still here?" she asked, her voice slightly shrill.

"No…" said Molly, slightly taken aback at the shift in Ginny's manner, "He was called to the Aurors' offices on urgent business."

"Right," said Ginny, her face as bleak and barren as an ice-capped wasteland. "I should probably go to work too…" she began to ramble as she pushed past her mother, down the stairs and towards the front door, "lots of work to do, you know, I still haven't finished the paperwork…I could use the extra money…get my mind off of things…"

Molly Weasley looked on in shock and horror at the transformation that had taken place in her daughter; it had felt as though she had lost another child.

***

An infuriated Ginny marched through the doors of Auror Hopper's office, flinging her purse on her desk, preparing to bury her anguish underneath mountains of paperwork, but she found as she took her seat that she hadn't the heart to do it. The near blank canvases of white paper, dotted with script, empty meaningless words, seemed to glare at her in mockery as she let out a long frustrated moan. Why did everything have to remind her of her hollowness? Her loss?

"I thought you were taking the day off today," came a voice from a few feet away, startling Ginny out of her contemplation of the impossible paperwork.

She looked up to see Draco, stepping out of Hopper's empty personal office, his imperious eyes commanding all of her attention as if reprimanding her. "I thought you were too."

Draco shook his head. "I was called in for an emergency meeting at Auror Headquarters. My government requires my service. It is my patriotic duty to do all I can to help. It would be treason not to," he said in mock sincerity.

However, Ginny couldn't be fooled; the Ministry wouldn't have called him down to Headquarters if it weren't something important. Something decisive. Something like the planning of the final battle.

"You can't come with me," said Draco, perceiving her thoughts.

"Why not? He was my brother!"

"Who? Voldemort?" Draco smirked at the unkind remark. He didn't mean to incite her anger, but he wanted to make it clear to her that she was to stay out of this.

"Fuck you!"

"You already did," he said dryly. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny's knuckles clench.

"There, there now," he whispered soothingly, taking a resisting Ginny in his arms and rubbing small circles down her back, trying to calm her. "I didn't mean it."

It was as close to an apology as she would get, and she knew it as she relaxed into his arms. It felt nice to just be held and caressed; it was the second time he'd done that this morning and it was what she had been craving all along: not forgiveness, not attention, but understanding. His next words, however, startled her out of her exultation.

"Leave Voldemort to Potter and me."

"I have a right to do my part," she said, remembering Colin Crreevey's own words to her.

"You can do your part- by letting the aurors do theirs and staying out of it."

Ginny could feel her blood boil at his last reply, without warning she shoved him away and screamed, "He wasn't your brother!"

"And she wasn't your mother," Draco calmly replied, the contours of his face hard like marble.

A plane of tension arose between the two as Draco stared back at Ginny, deeply offended, yet refusing to show Ginny any emotion but obstinate contempt. For Ginny it was almost unbearable, she had had enough of emotional highs and lows, all she wanted was revenge against the man that destroyed her life to bring some sort of finality to her life and she had reconciled to herself that that was all she wanted. She had convinced herself that after she unleashed her wrath upon Voldemort she would be content, that things would go back to normal, but when she looked into this man's face she knew that she had been delusional to think that she could go back to her old life and live it alone. It was Ron who had been her confidant, and now it would be Draco. She wouldn't admit it to herself, but she needed him: not for his obvious good looks, or for sex, but for companionship.

"I'm sorry." A shuddering sigh escaped her as she exhaled her apology.

Draco wordlessly accepted, stepping forward and embracing her once again, but this time it wasn't enough. He leaned his face forward and lifted her chin. Instantly she knew what he wanted and tilted her head to the side, parting her lips. And even as his mouth fused with hers, his tongue massaging her own with exquisite precision, reveling in her bittersweet taste, all thoughts of meetings and Voldemort fled his mind, his senses subservient in total to this pleasure.

Ginny's head also emptied of all other cares and concerns as he slid his arms around her to clench her to hips to his tighter. And as his hands moved lower down her back to cup her bum, Ginny felt something light and soft drop from his hands, down onto her shoe. Breaking the kiss, she looked down to notice a pair of plain white cotton knickers.

"Draco…are those my…?"

"Bloody Hell, I forgot about those!" He knelt down to pick them up and handed them over to Ginny with a smirk: "I thought you wouldn't appreciate airing your dirty laundry to the entire auror department."

Ginny chuckled sarcastically at his play on words. She would have been upset with him for joking about her reputation except for the fact that he deliberately went out of his way to preserve it. "Who would have thought, a Malfoy showing consideration…."

"Hey, now," chided Draco, "I'm always considerate, don't you recall from last night? I seem to remember you appreciating my consideration very much."

"Right," said Ginny rolling her eyes trying to fight the redness that was ever swiftly staining her cheeks. Despite her embarrassment, she much preferred this banter to the hostility of a few minutes ago. And she preferred the precursor to the banter even more. With that thought in mind, she leaned back into him, ignoring the knickers he still held in his hands, to continue what they had started earlier.

***

Harry Potter paused just outside the door leading into the office when he heard two voices: a man and a woman. They were making awkward noises…what Harry deduced to be very passionate noises. The only otherperson that had access to the room was Malfoy…

"What's going on?" He shouted as he pulled open the door, his eyes focused on the floor. They were both wearing shoes. Taking that as a good sign, he hesitantly dragged his eyes up to meet the flushing yet fully clothed redheaded woman and the tall smirking blonde man, his pale elegant features the epitome of contempt as he stared right back while clasping a small scrap of white cotton cloth that he had apparently been trying to wrench from a very tight spot.

"I was helping Miss Weasley with something, Potter not that it's any of your concern," drawled Draco Malfoy, unconsciously wrapping one arm possessively about Ginny's shoulder.

Harry glared violently at Draco before turning to Ginny. "Can I talk to you, Ginny?"

At his address, Ginny's flush disappeared, immediately replaced with a calm, almost frigid visage. "No," she answered simply.

"Please, Ginny, I want to apologize."

His tone was almost pleading and it stirred something within Ginny. She didn't know whether it was scorn or sheer morbid curiosity, but she wanted to hear him out.

She nodded at Draco to leave, taking his hand and removing it from her shoulder. Just before Draco left, Harry caught a look of pure concern trespass upon his face for an infinitesimal fraction of a moment, gazing at Ginny as if to ask: are you sure? And with that he left, the torn undergarment, which Harry assumed to be Ginny's knickers, tossed aside and forgotten.

"What's going on between you and Malfoy?" Harry asked, staring pointedly at the torn remnants of her knickers.

Ginny's only response was to cross her arms across her chest and lift her eyebrows in an obstinate gesture.

"Fine." Harry gave up. "I suppose I deserve the silent treatment so I'll say what I wanted to say and leave."

Swallowing, Harry struggled to get the words out without cracking, "I'm sorry for dismissing your grief yesterday-I-I…" Harry paused, waiting for the words to come back to him, "My only excuse is that I was too caught up in my own mourning. I, we, Hermione and I, that is, didn't mean to drive you off like that…" he finished lamely.

"I see…" Ginny stood in silence for a few minutes, as if pondering his words, her arms still stubbornly crossed in front of her chest. "So, this time my brother's death is your excuse for excluding me. What about all those other times, Harry? I don't suppose you have twelve years worth of excuses up your sleeve, do you? Come now, Harry," she challenged as she sat down on Hopper's desk, neatly tucking in her skirt at the sides, "tell me."

Harry's eyes widened. He had not been expecting this. "Ginny, Hopper'll be back any minute. You should get back to work. We don't have time for this."

"I'll make time!" Ginny shouted, kicking the desk with her left heel in emphasis. "But I don’t suppose you will, Harry," she said in a more complacent voice, "You, Hermione, my brother, all of you stopped making time for me ever since you found each other. The Invincible Triumvirate. You've always had just enough time to save the world, but never enough to stop and ask the fourth musketeer how she was doing."

She sighed at the end of her bitter rant, hopping off the desktop and proceeding on her way out of the office.

"Wait, Ginny!" Harry grabbed the indignant redhead's arm before she could exit, looking her squarely in the eyes. "You know that's not true, Ginny, we made time when we could, and even if we couldn't it wasn't because we didn't care."

Ginny kept her gaze firmly fixed on the hand that clamped down on her arm. "I liked it better when you ignored me. I liked it better when I still loved you. My hopes may have been false, but my happiness was real…"

She jerked her arm out of his grip, but just as he thought she was about to leave, she turned back to him and whispered, "I hate, Harry. I hate that Ron's dead. I hate you. And most of all, I hate the bitterness that seems to be all that I can feel lately."

Draco knew better than to ask Ginny what happened when she emerged from Hopper’s office. Instead, he just followed her as she deftly marched out of the building, stopping behind her as she came to a halt on the sidewalk.

She turned towards him, a weary expression covering her face. “Are you just going to follow me around all day?”

“Malfoys don’t follow,” Draco sneered arrogantly, “they accompany.”

She could barely suppress a smile as she scoffed at him. “I thought you had your big important auror meeting.”

“I do.” He nodded. “But I would like to know your plans for the day before I leave, perhaps we could schedule dinner for tonight? I’m afraid that I’ll be busy with the bloody ministry for a while before all this Voldemort mess gets cleared up.”

Ginny couldn’t help it: she laughed. “You talk of him as if he’s a mere nuisance!”

Draco shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned he is…we’ll get him. Or, that is, I’ll tell Potter and all those other gits how to get him, while I sit back in comfort as they march out to their peril.”

“That’s not funny!” The blonde gave a slight “umph” as his redheaded companion punched his shoulder in irritation.

Finally, Ginny sighed in defeat. “Well, I’m going to visit Ron’s grave by myself. Seeing as I didn’t get to say my proper goodbyes at his funeral and you won’t let me spend my time otherwise, plotting Voldemort’s demise with your auror friends. After that, I’m free.”

“Excellent,” said Draco as he complimented her with one of his rare warm smiles. “Where would you like to dine?”

“Anywhere,” Ginny shrugged, “I’m not picky.”

“How does The Golden Cauldron sound? It got the Merlin’s Choice Award for the fifth month in a row.”

Ginny nodded her approval. “Sounds great.”

“It’s a date then. Shall I make reservations for nine?”

As Ginny nodded again, Draco leaned down to kiss her. It was meant to be a light parting kiss, as they were out in the open, but as soon as his lips touched hers, she wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his kiss hungrily, flicking her tongue against his lips until he opened for her. Moaning, Draco smoothed his hands down her back until they came to rest at her hips, forcefully pulling her body to his, tucking her curves into his solid body to touch at every point. She felt his body react, as a distinctive hardness settled against her stomach, urging her on to suckle lightly on his tongue. He growled deeply in response, tightening his hold and pushing her tongue back into her own mouth as he continued to massage it. Feeling his hands wander down to her arse, she decided that now was the time. He was fully distracted, as she slid her wand out from her sleeve and tapped his back ever so softly, whispering a spell as she felt his lips wander to her neck, leaving little bite-marks like tokens down the long column of her throat and easing the slight reddening at each spot with his skilled tongue, while she gently urged her wand back up her sleeve.

“Later,” she whispered, as she gently extracted herself from his embrace, pushing lightly on his chest.

Hesitantly, he let her go, his pupils dilated from their passionate encounter.

“Right,” Draco said, his voice an octave lower than usual, husky after their snog. “I’ll pick you up at your Mum and Dad’s then?”

She nodded quickly, turning on her heel as she waved him a quick goodbye.

Draco stared after her for a while after she left. Something was wrong, he knew it. Although the snog had been nice and he had been sorely tempted to just take her by the waist and apparate back to his bedroom, auror summons be damned, he could sense her discomfort as soon as she stepped back from him, a guilty expression settling as a grimace on her face. Shaking his head, Draco tried to rid himself of his thoughts, the meeting really was pressing and he was already late.

A/N: Well, sorry it took me so long to get this out. It’s un-betaed so all mistakes are mine. I didn’t want you guys to wait any longer. Coming up next: Draco arrives at the ministry and plans for Voldemort are going to be discussed. Ginny’s sneakiness is explained…plus more D/G action! I hope you guys haven’t lost interest, but I understand if you have, I did take my sweet time updating.

Disclaimers: Harry Potter names, terms, and the Harry Potter universe don’t belong to me. Only the writing and half the plot are mine. “…Hopes may have been false, but my happiness was real” is a loosely adapted quote from one of my favorite NOFX songs, “The Happy Guy.”