To be or not to be a Weasley by Adrial

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 5
Published: 14/07/2004
Last Updated: 01/01/2005
Status: Completed

"I am a fool, father…" He scolded himself, leaning against the wall of the room
heavily. "But…for her…I don’t think there’s any other way to be." ~~~~~~~~~ Ginny
Weasley, with the help of an unexpected house guest, discovers that there's more to a name than
status, but can she teach that to the coldest heart of them all before it's too late?
COMPLETED! YaY!




1. To be a Weasley
------------------



"To be or not to be a Weasley"

Hey everyone! I'm Adrial! I've just begun writing Harry Potter fiction after spending
much time studying the work of others so I wouldn't make a complete and total fool of myself
;-). I hope you like my stuff! This is a light-hearted Ginny fic (or it should be; hopefully I
won't get sidetracked) about well, her surname. You'll see. I will say that she's going
to get a little help from everyone's favorite slimy Slytherin! heh heh heh... Well, enough
babbling! Enjoy my fic and don't forget to review! I really need support if I'm going to
continue writing this fic.

*muah!*

~Adrial~

Adrial_06@yahoo.com

-------------------------------------------------

"To be or not to be a Weasley"

Ginny Weasley pinched a freckled cheek determinedly and bit the corner of her mouth out of sheer
anxiety. There were red blotches around her nose from her attempt to wipe the obnoxiously
ever-present spots from her face, and a headache brewed somewhere behind her temples, bringing a
familiar tingle to her nostrils. Her sudden sneeze rocked her mirror slightly and sent waves of
thick, rebellious auburn hair flying about her head.

"Ronald! What did I tell you about letting that cat in my room? You know I'm
allergic!" She pinched her nose to prevent any other vile, hair-ruining sneezes. But it was
just the distraction she needed to keep her from picking apart her very appearance over and over
again in the mirror. Looking for someone to accuse as her dear older brother had failed to answer
her cry of anger, she found the offending furball coiled delicately on a pile of folded and
forgotten laundry beside her dresser.

"Get *out*, Crookshanks!" She knocked a mound of socks on to the ginger cat's
fluffy head and watched with a satisfied smirk as it shook out its fur as if offended and strutted
regally out of her room. She thought regretfully of having to rewash all of her clean clothes now
that they had been exposed to the cause of her sudden bout of the sniffles.

She loved her brother's long time best friend, Hermione Granger, dearly, but that cat of
hers drove her up a wall. Ron had eagerly offered to cat-sit for Hermione's pet as she
vacationed in the south of Italy with her parents, grinning widely--a bit too widely if you asked
Ginny, and she snorted at the memory of him groaning in disgust at the fluffy nuisance after
he'd caught it chewing the bristles of his Comet Two-Sixty playfully.

"Now...back to-" Ginny paused abruptly, listening at the tell-tale sound of a
*POP!* of somebody apparating right outside the front door below her window.

"Oh, God. He's early! WHY did he have to be punctual on top of everything else?!"
She kicked off the fluffy pink slippers she had sworn to herself no one would ever know about and
slid her feet into slightly heeled shoes, remembering to lean forward slightly so as not to fall
and potentially render more damage to her intricately styled hair.

She took a moment to glare at a stack of magazines pooled on her bedspread, scorning every
perfectly proportioned teen witch that graced the covers offering 'candid secrets to a truly
magical lifestyle' and wondered where the fine print was that informed readers that tips only
applied if you were either half-veela or had loads of galleons to throw away on hair potions and
designer witches' outerwear.

"Now, Ginny-kins, if you glare like that you're going to get wrinkles," A bemused
voice said from her doorway. Ginny whirled on her brother, deepening the glare she had had 15 long
years to perfect.

"Sod off, Ronald; I'm in not in the mood." She rolled her eyes mentally and turned
back to her bed where her black cloak lay covered, to her deep dismay, in patches of ginger cat
hairs.

"*Crookshanks!*" Grumbling, she fumbled for her handy lint-roller on her dresser
which was littered in hair-shining potions and bags of multi-colored glosses and shimmering shadows
and rolled it furiously up and down the folds of her cloak.

"Oi! That's Hermione's cat you're growling over!" He responded
half-heartedly, thinking longingly of the day Hermione would return and relieve him of his feline
burden. His eyes fell over Ginny once more and darkened at the sight of her v-neck shirt and denim
skirt, which, in his opinion, was fit for an actual GIRL--not his little sister.

"Y-You're not wearing *that*?" He stuttered, ready to dig through her closet
until he found a baggy sweater and sweatpants (suitable clothing for his sister, at least).

"Oh, come off it, Ron. I look...fine," She ended her statement with a weary glance in
her mirror, wondering if she, in fact, did look fine. Ron caught her look of hesitancy and wondered
when the sole Weasley girl would realize how beautiful she was? Of course, you'd have to pay
him a thousand galleons before he ever told her that. It'd be breaking the Weasley Code of
Sibling Rivalry.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her mirror and brother and gave up. She'd spent the entire summer
damning puberty to hell and back for giving her curves she had no idea what to do with and,
well...other womanly things. She thought fondly of the attention she had begun getting from boys
that summer. She had managed to keep a cool composure, hiding the slightly queasy feeling she felt
every time she caught a member of the opposite sex eyeing her like Hogwarts feast and frantically
owling Hermione whenever she needed any answers to questions she was sure would send any one of her
seven brothers into seizures.

"Whatever. Have you seen my other black cloak? I can't remember that de-linting charm
Mum always uses and he's already here. This," She lifted the temporarily ruined cloak and
tossed it into the pile of Crookshanks' other victims, "is a lost cause."

Ron narrowed his eyes, "Who? That Payton wanker? I heard Fred and George let him in.
He's probably battling with a 10 foot tongue by now," He smirked at the thought.

"WHAT?!" Ginny roared and flew past Ron, making sure she shoved him hard enough to
make him stumble and trip over his own feet, flying haphazardly onto her miss-matched carpeted
floor.

She flung herself down the endless flights of rickety steps of The Burrow, passing a disgruntled
Harry who gave her a quizzical glance before yawning and trudging back to the sound of Ron's
moans as he nursed a bruised elbow.

Finally, the last flight loomed before her and she could hear the sound of muffled voices.
*Please don't let them hurt him. Please don't let them hurt them.* *Please, please,
please, PLEASE.* She mentally chanted and triumphantly landed on the last step, only to trip
over a basket full of freshly laundered Weasley robes.

Ginny landed in a tangle of fiery curls and dish towels at the foot of the stairs, spitting out
mouthfuls of her hair and struggling to stand, praying that no one had seen her less than graceful
entrance.

"Wow, Gin. Nice landing! I give it a 6.5," George Weasely smiled devilishly from a few
feet away.

"Nah, I wouldn't put it past a 5. She didn't even slide across the floor or
anything." A mirror image of his brother, Fred Weasley chuckled good-naturedly and stooped to
help his sputtering sister off of the floor.

"Wh-Where is he?" Ginny squeaked, taking notice of the absence of her date and fear
curled up in her stomach.

Fred let go of her and gave George a reproachful glance. "Now, Ginny, our dear, sweet,
*forgiving* little sister--"

"Fred," Ginny grabbed the collar of his sweater and yanked his face inches from her,
"What-have-you-done-to-him?" Her tone was frigid and he gulped at the sight of his little
sister so enraged.

"We couldn't help it! He was just too-too," George searched for the right words,
"He needed to loosen up, Gin! You should be thanking us for doing the poor bloke a
favor."

Ginny groaned aloud. She did not want to imagine what Fred and George's idea of
'loosening up' would entail. With a final glare, she flung Fred aside and raced out of the
front door and into the dusk-lit yard in front of The Burrow. A garden gnome skittered past her
legs giggling madly and hurled itself into a bush. Ginny blinked into the rapidly darkening night.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps startled her and she whirled around. A horrified scream escaped
her lips.

"G-G-Ginny, G-G-Ginny, p-pl-please, m-m-make it-t, st-stop!!" Brad Payton, possibly
the most attractive Hufflepuff 6th year ever to grace the corridors of Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry was flailing about the yard, legs and arms jerking in all directions in an
infinite and crude type of dance. He suddenly stopped the frantic dance moves and twirled in the
air, two hands arched delicately above his head like a ballerina, a type of muggle dancer Hermione
had told her about that usually danced in pink, fluffy robes and were mostly, well--girls.
Ginny's heart stopped.

"Brad! Oh, no! Just-just...oh, Merlin! Hang on!" She wheeled around just as he began
break dancing on the grassy earth and tackled Fred to the ground.

"Frederick Archibauld Weasley! If you don't stop him I'm going to make you wish
you'd never been BORN!" She roared, rearing back in order to punch the chuckles right out
of him.

"Oi! Ginny! Calm down! Did you have to use my middle name?" He struggled to break free
from her clawing hands. George appeared in the doorway, followed closely by Ron and Harry who got
one glance at Brad doing the Funky Chicken and doubled over in laughter.

"George! I hope you like being 1/2 of a twin, because if one of you doesn't fix this
right now--"

"Alright, alright! I'll have him fixed up in no time. Don't get your knickers in a
bunch." George jogged over to Brad, who was panting and helplessly being forced back into a
rendition of Swan Lake, and held up his wand.

"Finite Incantantem!"

Immediately, Brad fell in a heap of robes to the ground, panting roughly and swearing.

"Mental *pant* you're all *pant* bloody *pant* mental!" And with that, he scurried
to his feet and ran bow-leggedly down the drive until he became no more than a speck down the
road.

"No! Brad! Come back!" Ginny called after him, but it was no use. Her hand fell to her
sides limply and she turned back to face four sheepish looking boys. In a flurry of tears and
robes, she flew back into the house, up four flights of stairs, and landed with a thud on her bed,
cursing the day she ever was born with the last name Weasley.

------------------------------------------

Ta da! First chapter! I'm so excited about writing Harry Potter fiction now! This is my 2nd
attempt and I really hope you take the time to review it so I'll know whether I should continue
or not. Adios!

PS: I know "Archibauld" probably isn't Fred's middle name, but I thought it
sounded funny so I used it! :-p heh heh heh...

~Adrial~

-->



2. Guests of Honor
------------------



"To Be or Not To Be a Weasley"

Chapter 2: Guests of Honor

-----------------------------------------

"Favorite color?"

"Black."

"Alright, then, yellow it is…erm…What's your sign?"

"The Grim."

"Ah, you've been talking to Harry, I see? I'll just put Scorpio. Merlin knows
you're temperamental enough lately…"

Passive grunt.

"Sunrise or sunset?"

"Do you think Mum would be upset if she found Fred and George hanging from the roof in
their unmentionables and covered in enough foliage to attract a whole mess of Bowtruckles—hmm…maybe
I could charm them into gouging out their eyeballs...?"

"Ginny Weasely!" Hermione snapped the magazine she was holding in her hands shut and
sighed dramatically. The minute she'd gotten word of what had transpired on what was only being
referred to as 'That Night' (so as to not risk certain mauling or ear-splitting tirades
from the youngest Weasley) via Hedwig, Hermione had floo-ed straight from her bedroom in London to
The Burrow, having just finished unpacking from her stay in Europe.

Ginny had flung her into her bedroom without small talk and Hermione listened tentatively as the
whole ordain was described and in some cases reenacted, as Ginny tended to make strangling motions
with her hands and beat whatever was available (pillows, stuffed animals, air...etc.) whenever she
got the part about tackling Fred to the ground.

That had been two days ago and many, many failed attempts to distract her distressed friend, and
Hermione was running out quizzes in the plethora of Teen Witch magazines pooled in a small hill on
Ginny's bedroom floor.

Hermione scowled at Ginny's latest crude comment on the twins and sighed deeply. Ginny
merely scoffed at the older girl's reprimand and glared at the ceiling.

"Must you mention that name? That awful, dreadful thing that cursed me into having all
brothers and no sisters? Hey, Hermione...do you think your parents would be open to adopting
another witch?" Her eyes lit up, "Pleeeeaase! I'm house-trained and everything!"
Unlike my vile, date-ruining, and bloody asinine brothers. She growled low again.

The minute they arrived at Hogwarts and were allowed to use magic, she'd be sending mum a
lovely package containing the left-over body parts of her ickle Ronnykins; though she'd have to
skiv off class one day and find her way into Diagon Alley in order to get the twins with a good hex
or two...

"Ginny..." Hermione warned, reading the dangerous expression falling over Ginny's
face. She'd seen it many times since she'd been there, and it could only result in many,
many years in Azkaban and more funeral services than she had black robes for.

Ginny merely scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine. Leave me here to rot,
then."

Hermione reached over the patted the girl's fiery head gently, "That's the spirit,
then, Gin!" She recoiled her hand at the death glare she received.

"All I'm asking, Ginny, is that you try to view it from Ron, Fred, and George's
perspectives. They're only being protective of you."

Wrong answer.

"Urghh! I can't believe you!" Ginny hurled herself under a heap of blankets,
"If you're only here to agree with them, then I must ask you to promptly remove yourself
from my room and SOD OFF WITH THE REST OF THEM."

Hermione's brown orbs rolled far back in her head and swiveled forward to glance at the
clock on the wall. Mrs. Weasley had installed an enchanted clock like the one in her kitchen in
every room of the house, and Hermione's eyes narrowed at a certain spoon, the one labeled
*'Ron Weasely'* and pointing at **'Eavesdropping and in danger of certain
punishment'.**

"Figures," She mumbled and hopped off of Ginny's bed, raising her voice
substantially, "I'm going to the BATHROOM, Gin, right out in the HALLWAY. I'm assuming
you'll still be here when I get back?"

"..."

"Alright, then." She made sure Ginny's head was still secured under her pillow and
carefully opened the door. Red-faced and sheepish, Ron was leaning against the wall beside
Ginny's door, trying to look natural while fiddling with a chocolate frog card that looked as
if it had been lying on the ground for some time. He came to attention when Hermione stepped out of
Ginny's room and closed the door behind her, stuffing the card into his pocket and running a
hand through his mop of red hair.

"Ahem. Hullo, Hermione! Lovely day, isn't it?"

Hermione gave him an unreadable glance and motioned towards Ron's bedroom, a few doors down
the hall where they couldn't be overheard.

Once inside, Ron forgot all pretenses and grabbed her hands, shaking them, "Tell me, Herm,
how long do I have before she kills me? Should I run now or do you think I can take her? I mean,
you should have seen her on Fred; she's got one hell of a right-hook, that one. Will you take
Pig if I don't make it?" He'd said it all in a rush, but more from the fact that he
realized whose hands he was holding and somehow thought that speaking at ungodly speeds would ease
the growing flush appearing underneath his freckles.

Hermione politely waited for him to finish before speaking. "Right. Are you quite finished
now?" Ron sheepishly nodded and uncoiled his hands from around hers; a devilish thought began
to bubble in Hermione's head.

"Have you ever watched British Football, Ron?" He shook his head. She leaned in closer
as if about to reveal confidential information.

"Well, you might want to take a leaf out of their books and invest in a handy Muggle
invention called the 'cup.'

Ron looked pleasantly puzzled, "You mean...to drink out of?" Hermione shook her head
at his thick-ness and grinned sneakily, looking suggestively at Ron's lower half.

"Not exactly. More of a means of protecting certain-erm-*vital* organs you might have
grown rather fond of." She smirked as a look of horror fell across his face and he gulped.

"C-cup, did you say? Right...thanks, Hermione!" He turned quickly on his heel and sped
off for the kitchen, where he would undoubtedly find Harry and beg him for ways to acquire such a
thing.

Hermione grinned. *That was for you, Gin.*

Later that evening, as the coaxing smells of a Weasley supper wafted into Ginny's bedroom,
Hermione was able to finally drag her out of her bed and threw her into the bathroom rather
roughly, demanding that she emerge only after she'd showered, dressed, and quit moping.

Ginny glared at her reflection in the mirror for a few minutes before grudgingly turning on the
shower and doing as she was told.

*At this rate I'll never be able to go on one bloody date with one bloody boy because I
have three BLOODY BROTHERS to bloody ruin it all for me!* "BLOODY HELL!" She had
slipped on a puddle on the floor from when she'd stepped out of the shower and fell
ungracefully onto her backside. Groaning, she gripped the edge of the sink and stood.

"Alright in there, Gin?" Harry's voice permeated through the door and she scowled.
She'd forgotten about him being there. Oh, well. She'd been over him for a grand total of
15 months and counting, but he still had a tendency to make her stomach do a semi-flip every time
she looked him directly in the eye. *Damn all men*, she thought.

"Yes, I'm fine!" She yelled and slid into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt; rivulets
of icy water slung around the bathroom from her hair and she absentmindedly imagined one of her
brothers slipping in a puddle and breaking one, or two or even three limbs in the process. *Aw,
wishful thinking, again, Gin. They'd only sprain an ankle at the most...but if I accidentally
spilled some shampoo, as well...that might do the--*

"Ginny! Your mum's calling us for dinner! Are you all finished?" Hermione knocked
softly on the door.

Ginny took a moment to revel in her last thought and wound her hair into a loose bun before
joining Hermione in the hallway looking significantly refreshed and feeling much better.

"All done!" She announced with a grin and led the way downstairs...

...where they promptly entered the twilight zone. Ron was standing with his back to her, hands
clenched at his sides and glaring at something or someone directly in front of him. Mrs. Weasley
'tutted' into the kitchen and shoved him away, giving Ginny a half-view of black robes and
a pale hand.

"Ronald! That's no way to treat a guest. Now, *sit*, there's a good lad, and
be kind to Mr. Draco and his mother."

Ron slumped into his seat, never taking his eyes off of Draco Malfoy, Enemy #1 and Prince of
Slytherin, and a slew of other titles that Ginny had heard Harry and Ron call him but didn't
dare repeat.

"*Malfoy*?!" She and Hermione had hissed the name at the same time and cold grey
eyes flew over to them, calculating their presence and then returning to the woman standing beside
him. She was a bit shorter than her son, fragile-looking, yet with the air of regality that Ginny
had only seen once before in Malfoy's father, Lucius; but he was in Azkaban now...what were his
wife and son doing in THEIR house? The people Malfoy's father had most detested other than
muggles?

Draco sneered at her speculating stare and looked around the kitchen with his face screwed up in
disgust.

"Ah, Ginny, dear! Nice to see you've found your way downstairs finally," Mrs.
Weasley gave her daughter a reproachful glance and handed her a set of silver ware for the table,
"Be a good dear and help Ron and Harry set the table outside. We'll be needing more room
in light of our guests," She cast a forced smile at Draco and his mother before shoo-ing then
out the back door.

Ginny couldn't stop from glancing back at the boy standing her kitchen, who was about to be
sitting at their *table*, drinking from their *glasses*, and eating their *food*.
She silently wondered if hell had finally frozen over and dementors were being hired for birthday
parties.

Hermione looked just as surprised as she did, and hurled her handful of forks on the table that
had been set up in the back yard to get Ron and Harry's attention.

"MALF-?!" She didn't get to finish her exclamation as Harry's hand flew over
her mouth. Mrs. Weasley scurried behind her, set a stack of plates down and then rushed back into
the house.

"*Malfoy*?" Hermione stated again once Harry had taken his hand off of her mouth.
"What on earth are Malfoy and his mother doing here?"

Ron looked ready to punch in the table so Harry explained quickly. "His dad's keeping
the dementors company in Azkaban and the aurors are searching their home today for evidence. The
Ministry didn't know what do with them, so they dumped them on Mr. Weasley until they've
finished because they need someone to watch them and, well...here we are." He finished,
glancing wearily at the back door as if at any moment Malfoy would come running out and flinging
hexes in all directions. It had been Harry, after all, who was responsible for his father's
capture, anyway.

Ginny shrugged. In all her years at Hogwarts, Malfoy had never given her much trouble. She only
knew of him through Ron who spoke of him through gritted teeth if ever at all and would never tell
her all the terrible things he'd say about their family because he was too furious.

*"A week*!" He finally said, slamming a fork and knife beside a place mat.
"A week they've got to stay here! Mum might as well ship me off to Azkaban now, because if
I have to spend one day in that bloody arse's presence, I'm going to-"

"Kiss my feet and thank Merlin that you are fortunate enough to be graced with my
presence?" Malfoy sneered behind them, holding a stack of napkins as if they were rags and
tossed them onto the table, ignoring them as they flew in all directions.

Harry had to hold Ron back. "Malfoy, I won't be able to restrain Ron for 7 days, and
I'm sure you wouldn't want to ruin your hair or anything, so I suggest you shut your bloody
mouth," He warned.

"Alright! Who's hungry? C'mon now, everybody tuck in!" Mrs. Weasley
interrupted their exchange and ushered them all to sit. Arthur Weasley showed up behind her,
leading Mrs. Malfoy, who looked like she'd never been outside in her all her life, to the
table. With a *POP!*, Fred and George appeared in their seats, eyeing Malfoy wearily though
not daring to look Ginny in the eye.

"Fred and George Weasley! I've told you not to apparate at the dinner table!" Mrs.
Weasley chided, but the twins busied themselves with turkey legs and pretended they hadn't
heard a thing.

It was the quietest dinner in Weasley History. Ginny felt a shiver skitter up her spine as the
tension mounted upon the table with each clink of silverware or squeak of the rather rickety old
table. She'd be glad when the plates were clear and she could seek refuge in her room to
smolder over "That Night" in peace. She'd no clue where her mother would be sticking
Malfoy, but it surely wouldn't be in her room, so she was off the hook there.

"Mum, would you pass the potatoes?" Ginny asked politely, noticing how everyone's
heads snapped to attention at the momentary lapse in silence as if they were all expecting her to
shout out a curse or something. She rolled her eyes mentally.

*Honestly...*

She accepted the potatoes from her mother and plopped a spoonful onto her plate noisily.
Hermione shifted nervously beside her and continued staring at her plate, though she would glance
furtively in Ron's direction every once in a while. He was seated directly across from Malfoy
and the two exchanged threatening glares all throughout the meal. Ron hadn't even broken his
gaze when he missed his mouth with a fork-full of meat and it landed in his lap.

"Mal-erm, I mean, Draco, would you care for some potatoes?" Ginny smiled shakily at
him, expecting him to glare her into the ground or something, but when he gave a curt nod and took
the dish from her hands, she sighed silently and happily devoured the rest of her food. So far,
she'd been the only one to acknowledge his presence (if you exempted Harry and Ron's
occasional death threat from beneath their breaths) and Mrs. Weasley gave her a slight smile.

"Lovely, weather, isn't it Narcissa?" Mrs. Weasley smiled widely at the blonde
haired woman seated beside Draco, following Ginny's example. His mother glanced up from her
still full plate and gazed around the yard with cold and unmistakably bored, grey eyes.

"I detest the outdoors," She finally stated plainly and continued to stare at her
plate, keeping perfect posture and making sure to wipe her glass with a napkin before she took a
sip. Ginny wondered if she thought they were barbarians or something. Mrs. Malfoy offered no other
comment and Draco didn't even smirk.

*Well, this is awkward...* Ginny thought, wishing she could smack them all on the face with
a cheering charm or something to shake the tension out of them. Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat
casually, ignoring Narcissa's comment and fiddled with the lint on Mr. Weasley's robes.

Mrs. Malfoy would not even glance at Arthur without giving him a fleeting glare that said
she'd hex him if she could, but he seemed not to notice or care as he silently ate. Ginny noted
the dark shadows beneath his eyes and felt her heart twinge. She would have given anything to take
over her father's job for a day and give him a break for once, but she kept her thoughts to
herself and nudged Hermione.

Hermione jumped at her prodding and glanced surreptitiously at her, "Yes?"

Ginny nodded towards the house and cleared her throat, "Well, Mum, that was a lovely
dinner. Hermione and I really need to finish our summer homework, though, if we want to be ready
for school by next week." She didn't wait for a response and hurriedly snatched up her and
Hermione's dishes to take inside.

Hermione looked offended at Ginny's implications that she hadn't finished her summer
work yet. It was all neatly ironed and ready for marking in her trunk. But she followed wordlessly,
giving Mrs. Weasley a small smile of apology.

A few minutes later, their dishes were magically scrubbing themselves in the sink, and Ginny had
dragged Hermione into the living room. She didn't want to be holed up in room in case Ron and
Malfoy got into a duel or something; that'd be too good to miss.

She giggled secretively and twirled a strand of red hair between her finger tips. "Forget
hexing Ron; Draco Malfoy having to share a room with him is pay-back enough!" She chuckled
deviously, "Imagine! What if he snores worse than Ron? Oh, it'd be perfect!" She gave
into her giggles and crouched over, clutching her stomach in glee, "Oh, I hope he leaves the
cap off of the toothpaste--George'll go mental!"

Hermione gazed at the laughing girl wearily and ignored the twinge she felt at the corners of
her mouth.

"Ginny, you ought to be careful around Malfoy. He's got a bone to pick with your dad
and Harry, and if he tries anything while he's here it could be terrible for everyone. Did you
see the looks he shot at your dad through dinner? I wouldn't be surprised if he went out and
got himself the Dark Mark as soon as his dad was thrown into Azkaban," She involuntarily
shivered, "He's evil enough, that's for sure."

Ginny had stopped laughing, but her face was red and tears had streaked down her cheeks,
"What? And risk expulsion from Hogwarts? Malfoy can't be that daft. As for the Dark Mark,
from what I hear Malfoy's scared of his own shadow when it comes to bravery; he's
*Slytherin*," She added with a scowl. Slytherins were usually known for their 'save
your own skin or die a Gryffindor' motto.

"He's mother's a real nutcase though. Did you see her muttering disinfecting spells
underneath her breath before she touched anything?" She toyed with a knight piece from
Ron's enchanted chess set. She set it down carefully and watched as it attacked a nearby piece
and blew it to smithereens. After a second it reappeared intact in a puff of smoke.

Hermione glanced out of the window that faced the back yard.

"They're getting ready to come inside; I think Bill's arrived as well," She
added.

Ginny glanced through the window and saw Bill's earring glittering in the fast approaching
dusk and smiled. He was her favorite older brother (Ron's position had been revoked on
"That Night"), and he would never, ever cause any of her boyfriends harm—without her
direct permission that is.

"Guess your Mum thought we might need extra security in case-"

"Well if it isn't the Mudblood and her pet Weasel?" Malfoy sneered from the door
way, leaning against the frame with the air of royalty.

*More like a royal pain in the arse,* Ginny thought casually and narrowed her eyes at his
comment.

"You'd do well not to insult other guests in our home, Malfoy. You're on our
territory now and outnumbered 1 to 10," She replied evenly, amazed at her daring but amused at
the flash of anger that crossed Malfoy's face.

"So, the youngest Weasel can speak? Ever since that incident in 2nd year, I'd thought
you'd become mute," He smiled coyly, "So, read any good *books*, lately, have
you?" He sneered at her, and Ginny ignored the drop of cold fear the fell to the bottom of her
stomach.

Hermione rose, "Shut it, Malfoy. No one needs your slimy-"

"I'd watch it, if I were you, Mudblood. How long, do you imagine, would a couple of
harmless dementors be able to hold off a handful of death eaters before bad things start to
happen?" His voice dropped to a subzero level, but before Hermione could comment, Ron had
appeared behind Malfoy, shoving him out of his way. Malfoy stumbled but collected himself, turning
on Ron with a glare that could have burned a hole through his forehead.

"What did you call her, Ferret-boy?" Ron snarled.

Malfoy folded his arms across his chest, "What's it to you Weasel? Going to try to
curse me again? Let's see it then. I've heard slugs are a delicacy in France."

"Ah, there you are boys! Right then, who's up for a game of quidditch before bed?"
Bill bound into the room, an infectious grin plastered across his face, and he headed for Ginny who
squealed and gave him a hug.

"Bill! I thought you were still in Egypt!" She scrunched her nose as he rumpled her
hair.

"Thought I'd drop in for a visit before you went off to school," He turned back to
Ron and Malfoy who were still staring at each other as if attempting to mentally rip each other
apart.

"What d'ya say, Ron? Heard Mum got you a new broom last year. Think you'll be able
to out-fly your big bro', eh, Mr. Gryffindor Keeper?" He grinned.

Ron's zest for competition overruled maiming Malfoy for the moment and he puffed out his
chest.

"You're on, then, Bill. I'll get Harry," He sped off to the kitchen, leaving
Malfoy to glare at the open space where he'd once been.

"How 'bout you, Draco? Heard you're a pretty decent seeker over at Hogwarts."
Bill placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, and Draco stared at him as if he were a sack of
bubotuber puss.

"Alright then," He finally stated. Ginny and Hermione unconsciously exhaled a breath
of relief.

"Excellent, you ladies have fun doing whatever it is you-er-do, then!" Bill flashed
another smile at them, and Ginny silently thanked him. At least he knew when to rescue her from the
boys that actually annoyed her.

Hermione fell back onto the couch as soon as they left.

"I've a sickening feeling somebody's going to lose a limb tonight."

Ginny nodded solemnly for a second and instantly brightened, "Let's go watch then! This
could be interesting!" She gleefully dragged Hermione out of the living room and into the back
yard, where Harry was already circling the area on his Firebolt, facing Malfoy who glided
skillfully on his Nimbus 2001, stating warningly that his Mum had ordered him the latest Firebolt
for the new school year and Harry might want to get used to the taste of broom bristles.

*Oh, yes, this would have been too good to miss,* Ginny thought wistfully and took a seat
beside Hermione on the grass, thoughts of a tortured Ron swimming through her head as bludgers
zoomed over head, and the match commenced with a whistle from Bill.

"Let the game begin!"

Ginny smiled to herself. *Yes, let the game begin indeed.*

--------------------------

phew! that was a LONG chapter. Dunno whether or not all of them will be like that, but this was
a special case, in that I had to introduce Malfoy and all that. Hope you liked it! Review please,
or I may resort to begging, and that just wouldn't be pretty at all. :)

Adrial

-->



3. What
-------

"To be or not to be a Weasley"

Chapter 3: What's in a Name?

By: Adrial

-----------------------------

Much to Ginny Weasley's disdain, there had been meager blood shed during the quidditch match
and Ron hadn't even knocked Malfoy off of his broom yet. Honestly, Ginny was growing quite
bored. She glanced at Hermione who had retreated her gaze into a colossal book on something or the
other; Ginny's vision blurred together as she attempted to read the title. She let out a wide
yawn and fiddled with a daisy that had been tickling her elbow for the past thirty minutes.

"Oy! Harry!" Ron was gesticulating wildly to something directly to Harry's left,
but before Harry could turn his head to look, a bludger zoomed over his head, barely skimming the
unkempt hair that lay there.

"That was close," Hermione mumbled, her gaze still submerged within the text of the
monster of a book. Ginny smiled at Hermione's ability to pay attention to several things going
on at once. No wonder she could keep up with Harry and Ron. *They're both always going in a
million different directions. Just listening to the two of them talk makes me dizzy.*

Ginny sighed. This was getting out of control. If they weren't going to make the game
interesting, then she would just have to step in. Determined, she sat up and headed for the small
shed on the side of the yard. She had, after all, been seeker for half of her fourth year while
Harry had been banned. Now that they knew she could actually fly, there was no reason why they
couldn't let her have a go.

"Look at that. Who know female weasels could fly, too," Malfoy grinned maliciously at
Ginny, eyeing her as if he was going to at any moment swoop down and eat her alive like some
deranged eagle.

Ginny's grip tightened on her broomstick, but she ignored Malfoy's jeering. Ron broke
his oath of civility to his mother and sent a bludger zooming straight for Malfoy's blonde
head; Ginny smirked as he barely dodged decapitation.

"Alright, Gin!" Bill exclaimed, zooming past her on his old Shooting Star. She
grinned, mounting her broom and kicking off into the hazy, evening air. Her unruly hair flew about
her face, but she smiled widely, reveling in the weightless feeling of flight.

"Thought you boys might need a lesson or two in how Quidditch is actually played," She
flew past Ron with a devilish smirk and stole the quaffle right from underneath his arm. In a
bee-line for the goal across the pitch, she swiveled to miss Bill's attempt at throwing her off
course and straightened herself to aim. Fred visibly gulped as she flew nearer and nearer towards
him. He wasn't sure if she planned on actually shooting the quaffle or knocking him off his
broom. This momentary lapse in concentration afforded Ginny the perfect opportunity to aim right
over his head and launch the ball expertly through the hoop.

"Excellent, Gin! They're down 70 now!" Harry called from his perch about twenty
feet higher in the sky. Ginny smiled mischievously and bounced the ball in her hands.

"Hey, Potter! Who said I was on *your* side?" With that, she took off for
opposite end of the pitch, quaffle in hand and scored another shot right past Ron's left
ear.

Malfoy rose above the game, his search for the snitch halted at the entrance of the youngest
Weasley. He eyed the girl quizzically, wondering if she were actually related to the rest of the
clan. His cold gaze watched her as she laughed triumphantly at the look of stupor on her older
brothers' faces.

*Pity...she would have made a decent Slytherin with that attitude,* he thought absently,
ignoring the buzzing insect flitting about his head. He waved it away with an annoyed scowl, eyes
lingering upon Ginny's fiery mane of hair as it did loops and flips in the air in some sort of
non-choreographed dance.

"Hey, Malfoy! Whose side are *you* on? You gonna catch the snitch or just sit there
and play with it?!" George bellowed from his side of the pitch.

Malfoy did a double-take. The obnoxious critter flitting on the back of his head had been the
tiny golden snitch! He felt like knocking himself in the skull with his broomstick at his lack of
concentration, but rather spun around frantically, praying it hadn't disappeared again. But it
was too little, too late. Harry had seen the snitch moments before and in a dive that left Malfoy
spinning, he'd clasped his fingers around the jittery object and was raising high into the sky
to celebrate with Ginny and Bill.

Malfoy refused to watch. *Damn Potter*. He scowled at the air around his head and zoomed
off to the ground. *Damn red hair*. He slid of his broom, ignoring Fred's voice from
somewhere behind him. *Damn Weasleys.*

He stomped over to where Hermione was sitting and strategically let his broom swing enough to
knock her book out of her hands. Her head snapped up, and she gasped.

"Oh! Is the match over, then?" Her eyes darkened as she realized who had interrupted
her reading, but before she could respond, Malfoy had disappeared into the house.

*Guess I won't have to wonder who won, then.*

The victory party consisting of Harry, Ginny, Bill, and Fred had landed on to the ground right
beside her.

Harry let the snitch zoom almost affectionately around his head, grinning widely as he clapped
Ginny on her shoulder.

"I thought you weren't playing sides, Gin," He said. Ginny grinned as well,
"I never said that, did I? I was going with whoever beat the knickers off of Malfoy."

She laughed loudly, breathing a little hard and set her broom back in the shed before joining
everyone again. Even Ron was celebrating. Though he was on Malfoy's team, he had shared
Ginny's mentality throughout the match. Dusk had come and gone by the time they decided to head
back in, but Ginny hung back, wanting to enjoy the summer night alone for a while. The velvety sky
blinked with stars as she made her trek alone back onto the makeshift quidditch pitch.

With a sigh, she lay back on a thick patch of grass and breathed in the summer air. Her brothers
were used to this habit of hers so none of them made any inquiries and usually left her to her
peace. It was something rare and beautiful to her, as she did live with the infamous Weasley twins
and at one time four other boisterous brothers, save Percy who was just plain obnoxious.

She reflected on the game, eyes closed against the night hovering around her, visualizing
herself flying higher and higher into the sky. She planned on trying out for chaser in the fall.
Though she hugely enjoyed winning, she wondered what had distracted Malfoy so much that he
hadn't noticed the snitch buzzing around his nose.

She'd snuck a glance at him at one point, noting the ease at which he flew about. He really
was an excellent flyer and seeker, but she'd never admit that aloud for fear of being jinxed by
Ron for her traitorous remark. She'd heard the girls in her year giggle at the mention of the
flaxen haired slytherin, but she'd been so head-over-heels for Harry that she'd never
bothered to notice. Her family had never associated the name Malfoy with anything good, anyway.
Then again, neither had the Malfoys when it came to Weasley.

She vaguely pondered on the effects a name could have on a reputation. She was a Weasley and
therefore poor and red-haired with a fiery temper to match. Draco was a Malfoy and therefore cruel
and inhumanly rich. She scoffed silently. She would have given anything to dye her hair purple and
take on someone else’s last name. To have her *own* identity and not a generalized biography
written on each strand of her tell-tale hair. She wondered if Malfoy felt the same way, but doubted
it in the same sense. He was a Malfoy in every stereotypical aspect of the word, and she knew this,
but it didn't stop her from wondering...

"Ow! Who's there?!" Ginny scrambled to her feet, though quite unsuccessfully as
she stumbled over something hard and fell back to the ground again. Something had stepped on her
hair, yanking it back and causing her sudden outburst. And that something was now struggling to
stand beside her, ruffling its robes and staring accusingly at the dark lump that was Ginny on the
ground beside it.

"Alright, which one of you is there? Damn, I can't even tell who's who in this
Godforsaken hole--they're bloody everywhere," Malfoy's voice sliced through the calm
air, stealing Ginny's tranquility and making her face burn with annoyance.

"It's Ginny, Malfoy. Now would you kindly make yourself disappear or something? I was
in the middle of thinking," She spat, straightening her clothing and standing. She faced
Malfoy's dark figure, shadowed by the night and looming over her head by a foot.

"Oh, you," He stated off-handedly, glancing around them for any more of the umpteen
members of their family.

Ginny scowled, "Yes, *me*. Now, please *leave*," She demanded, wondering if
he could tell that she'd been thinking about him and trying desperately to forget the fact that
she had ever considered him to actually have feelings.

Draco regained his composure and repossessed his usual regal stance. He saw her hazel eyes
glittering in the moonlight with annoyance. He remembered the color from before when he'd been
watching her-or, er, watching carefully for the snitch which he must have thought was near her for
he would have never been transfixed by a weasel. Or at least that was what he'd been preaching
to himself ever since that evening.

"You've really no idea as to whom you're running that bloody mouth of yours off to,
do you, Weasel?" He glared down at her, but when she barely even flinched, he growled low.

"What're you just standing there for? Is that thick head of yours too scared to
speak?" He crossed his arms over his chest with a bemused smile.

What he didn't see was the burgundy curtain that had fallen over Ginny's face, laced
with fire and crackling in the irises of her eyes. She ground her teeth together, fighting to
control her temper, a feat she very rarely succeeded at. This time was no exception.

"Do you ever get tired of it, Malfoy?" She suddenly asked, though her peculiar choice
of retort was as frigid and had the same bite in it as his. If this surprised Draco, she
couldn't see it in the darkness, but she really did not care.

"Tired of what?" He began heatedly, "That I'm stuck in this sorry excuse for
a house with a zoo full of red heads and third-rate *EVERYTHING*? Or that I am forced to live
with your muggle-loving parents with their do-good personalities and that pathetic Potter? Or
perhaps I'm tired of sharing the same breathing space with a disgusting, know-it-all
mudblood." He paused, breathing hard. The air around him practically began to fog at the pure,
cold hate that was protruding from every one of his pores.

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, unfazed by his tirade.

"I meant, do you ever get tired of being a Malfoy?"

This seemed to finally crack the block of ice that was Draco Malfoy, and he stared at the girl
harder. No one had ever asked him that before.

"Are you daft, little girl, or is that hair of yours simply contaminating your brain
cells?"

Ginny exploded, "Alright! I get it! I have RED HAIR! Bollocks for me!" Enraged, her
temper flared and sparked about her, but she was in no condition to stop yet.

"You're right, Malfoy. No, I'm not rich. Yes, My family lives in a rickety old
house that would be falling on its hinges if not for magic. Yes, my mother knits 90% of all our
clothing and YES, Malfoy, my father appreciates all walks of life, not just the wizarding one. And
no, not all wizards are *pure blood*" She spat the phrase, "So there! Are you
satisfied? Do you have any more cheeky insults to throw at me? How about my freckles or
the--*mmph*!"

Her speech had been abruptly halted by something cold and harsh. It crashed against her mouth
with such force that she had to grab hold of the body in front of her to steady herself. Hands
coiled around her shoulders and held her in place, chilling her to the bone upon contact; she tried
to free herself as soon as she realized what was happening, but Malfoy's lips suddenly
softened, a tiny trace of foreign warmth spreading across them, though they still felt only
marginally defrosted. Ginny wondered if he was truly as cold inside as he appeared to be on the
outside.

When he moved to deepen their embrace, the world rocked back into its rightful position and
Ginny shoved him off of her, sputtering for air. She drew a hand over her heart as if to shield it
and stepped a few paces away from the equally bewildered looking Malfoy.

**SMACK!**

Ginny withdrew her hand, nursing the sting that hummed beneath her skin and watched Draco
stumble to regain his regal posture.

For a moment the odd pair looked at each other as if meeting an entirely new species of man.
Draco's pale hand was practically glowing in the moonlight from its place over his left cheek.
He could still feel the imprint of her small hand across his face. Ginny's face was half-bathed
in moonlight, but he could tell a look of pure hatred when he saw one.

He'd been slapped by one girl in his lifetime; the one being Granger (his ego had never
fully recovered), but he'd never dreamed of being struck by such a small, unnoticeable girl,
much less a Weasley. It stunned him to no end, but he quickly gathered himself, resuming his
dignified persona and rolling back his shoulders lazily.

"Well at least I shut you up," He stated lamely, unsure of his own daring as he
received another brutal glare from the quivering girl in front of him. He had no idea what had made
him act in such a manner, but the way she'd be screaming at him made him want to either knock
himself unconscious or use his wand to rip out her vocal chords. Since he would never intentionally
harm himself (what would the world revolve around then?) and he surely didn't want to be booted
out of Hogwarts (people might think he was a spoiled little rich boy who never worked for anything
or something), he did the next most logical thing given the current circumstances--he'd kissed
the words right off her mouth.

And it was true. Ginny was now speechless. She considered running back into the house and
locking herself in her room for all eternity, but her legs weren't on the same wavelength as
her mind and left her standing firmly on the ground, breathing hard and more than justifiably
confused.

Her hand flew to her mouth which still hummed from the feeling of foreign lips upon her own. She
shivered at the odd feelings aroused in her chest as she played the scene back over in her
mind.

"Ginny?" Hermione's voice crashed through the uncomfortable layer of silence that
had surfaced upon the two. Ginny was grateful for any type of distraction.

"Ginny! Are you still out here?" Hermione's voice was growing closer, and Ginny
could make out her outline walking towards the very spot they stood on.

"I'm coming, Hermione!" She called back, hoping Hermione would be satisfied and go
back into the house rather than stumble upon Ginny and Draco alone in the dark. She'd have a
hell of a lot of explaining to do.

But Hermione kept walking, mumbling about the dangers of being outside alone after dark, and
Ginny's heart leapt in her throat. She turned to where Draco was standing to tell him to shove
off before Hermione saw him, though only met with the still, night air and a black, rumpled cloak
laying forgotten by its owner.

*Slytherins...* She scoffed mentally and jogged over to Hermione, the cloak behind her
back, shoving the incident back in her mind for later when she could properly execute and bury it
in the darkest corner of her memory.

_____________________________

Thanx for reviewing everyone! Glad you’re enjoying this…I love writing it! Just so you know, I
do realize that I’ve had them snog in the 3rd chapter and all that, but I am not going
to make it too easy for our dear couple. More to come next time! ;)

Let me know what you think and review!



4. Wake Up Call
---------------



"To be or not to be a Weasley"

Chapter 4: Wake-up Call

By: Adrial

Rating: PG

AN: Alright, in this chapter we finally get inside of Malfoy's mind a bit. But this isn't
going to be one of those 'malfoy falls in love with ginny after kissing her once impulsively
and they spend the rest of the story making out' stories. I'm considering Malfoy's
mentality and hope that I've done him justice. Nobody likes a softy-slytherin, do they? Review
and let me know how I did!

*reposted b/c I decided to be lazy and not spell check w/ M.Word and was horribly embarrassed by
the stupid errors I made…heh…:-D*


Adrial

-----------------------------------------------------------

An unusually cool breeze drifted lazily through an open window in the highest window of the Burrow.
It carried with it pale yellow streams of sunlight which slowly flooded upon a dusty wooden floor.
The thin boards of aged wood were littered by endless towers of boxes and amorphous objects peaking
out from beneath heaps of cobwebs that threatened to swallow them whole.

In the darkest corner sat a shadowed figure, eyes cast towards the floor and hunched over as if
seeking refuge from the world, or at least from the signs of the dawning morning. It shook
suddenly, shifting and curling itself deeper into the corner in reflex to being discovered by the
seeking rays of sunlight that were shedding their glow upon the otherwise dismal attic space.

Giving up on grasping the edges of sleep once again, the partially darkened figure unfolded itself
onto the floor. Pale fingers rubbed the signs of an uncomfortable night's rest out of icy eyes
that stung from the unwanted light.

Draco uncoiled his legs, wincing at the way they cramped and tingled painfully from being drawn up
against his chest for such a long period of time. A few minutes passed over his statue-like body,
and soon he was drenched in waves of golden sunlight that reflected off of his flaxen hair,
slightly mussed from sleep, and illuminated his face.

"Damn, I hate this place," He uttered bitterly, rising to his full height; the top of his
head nearly collided with the ceiling. He shook off his clothing and scowled at the rumpled texture
of his white, collared shirt. He stretched lazily and as successfully as he could in the limited
arm-space and hunched over slightly to make his way over to the window, sitting on a box filled
with what he assumed was old clothing as it caved in slightly from his added weight.

He gazed drearily at the newly awakened day that fell in a curtain of blue skies and pink and
orange sunlight over the backyard of the Burrow. He'd never really been in a home with a
backyard before; Malfoy Manor was surrounded by forestry, set high upon the peak of an isolated
hill in the countryside and much like an island in itself.

After the previous night's "episode," Draco had done what he was known for. Run for
his own sake. He'd skirted around the side of the Weasley home and snuck in through the front
door, ignoring Ron's growl of contempt and Harry's curious scowl as they huddled over a
game of wizard's chess. Mrs. Weasley had delegated Draco to Charlie's old bedroom, but
he'd taken one sour glance at the coat closet he seemed to have at once inhabited and the
ancient furniture cramped into the space, reeking of a decade's worth of neglect, and promptly
decided that if one cell on his royal arse was going to touch that heap, he'd just as soon snog
Granger.

He hadn't been speaking to his mother and ignored her as he stormed past her in the hallway.
She'd been given the master bedroom, a fair sized room with a large, springy bed decked out in
mismatched crocheted Molly Weasley creations and lumpy, worn looking pillow. He'd caught a
glimpse of the Victorian suite that she'd magicked it into from a crack in her door as she
turned to go to bed and rolled his eyes. If only he could use magic outside of school...

Well, at least he wouldn't have had to sleep in the stuffy old attic. He'd been climbing
stair after endless stair until he reached an old door in the middle of the entryway and, tired of
searching, climbed the rather dodgy looking ladder that appeared suddenly once he'd opened it,
and for some reason beyond his understanding, had found comfort in the isolation of the small
space. It was as far as he was getting from that bloody girl, anyway, and that was good enough for
him.

Draco's face darkened at the memory of 'that bloody girl' and he realized the potential
damage he'd done to his image. He'd have to corner the annoying nuisance and threaten to
turn her into a slug if she dared mention the incident to anyone. He thought of the fear that might
light up in her eyes as his shadow would fall over her. The same spark he'd noticed the night
before would dwindle into such trepidation and he would overpower her with the malice in his own
gaze...

His lips slid into an easy smile, yet there was no mirth in his demeanor as he took a final glance
at the dew-glistened Weasley yard and left the attic, a trail of bitter cold in his wake.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ginny rolled over in bed at the sound of foot steps clunking noisily along in the hallway. Soon, a
door was thrown open and slammed shut at the end of the hallway and she dove back underneath her
covers, trying futilely to find her cave of warmth again.

"Are you awake, Hermione?" She mumbled. A groan issued from the opposite end of the room
ensured her that Hermione wasn't awake and therefore wouldn't feel obliged to get up and
beat whomever was stomping throughout the house like a mountain troll for ruining Ginny's
precious sleep.

"Whatimsit?" Hermione's sleep-filled voice drawled. Ginny rolled over and glanced at
the clock on her wall.

"Too early for my big-footed brothers to be thumping around like Hagrid," Ginny scowled.
The back of Hermione's head rose about five inches from her bed and fell deftly back into her
pillow in a failed attempt to get up.

"Wake me when it's time for breakfast, would you, Gin?" She said sleepily and
yawned.

Ginny threw off her covers. Now she'd be sleep deprived all day long. And she had to be fitted
for dress robes that afternoon. Having her mother clumsily stick pins into fabric dangerously close
to her very impressionable flesh did little to entice her, and the fact that she'd be forced to
remain still for hours and be groggy at the same time made her blood boil with aggravation.

"Sure, Hermione. We'll be having roasted Weasley this morning," She mumbled and stood
up with a stretch. Throwing on a dressing robe over her pajamas, she stomped across the room and
out into the hallway.

The first door she came to was Ron's, and she pressed her ear up against it; it was impossible
not to hear his thunderous snores through the thin wood and Harry's sleepy groans for him to
shut up.

*Ron saves himself from certain doom,* she mused and began to grow annoyed all over again. She
walked to the end of the hall where the bathroom she shared with her brothers resided and stopped
abruptly at the sound of running water, realizing that the culprit was now using up all of her hot
water.

She wondered if the twins had forgotten the time she'd bewitched the water to run in streams of
muddy swamp muck when she was ten and they'd been stealing all the steam washing the
"practical jokes" out of their hair for five days straight. She wished she could get away
with performing magic through temper tantrums still, but then again, there were other ways of
seeking revenge.

She smiled silently and checked the doorknob. It turned easily in her hand.

*Unlocked...when will they ever learn?*

Coyly and silently, she pried the door open and peaked in. Steam was flowing from the top of the
shower and a heap of clothing was thrown in the corner. She tip-toed past the sink and reveled in
the thrill of getting even. In one swift movement, she jammed the toilet handle down and flew from
the room.

*Three...two...*

**"BLOODY HELL!!!!"**

*One.*
Doubled over in the hallway with muffled giggles, Ginny clutched her stomach and waited for a red
head to come bounding out of the bathroom furiously. This train of thought was to be held
accountable for the look of pure stupor that fell over her face when a decidedly blonde headed body
flung itself out of the bathroom, dripping puddles of water onto the carpet and breathing
deeply.

Ginny's stomach collapsed. Draco seemed not to notice her and leaned his towel-clad body
against the wall opposite the bathroom, staring into it as if at any moment some vicious shower
monster would come out and attack him.

He caught sight of her before she'd been given the opportunity by her brain cells to shut her
mouth which was open in silent shock. For a moment she thought he would pounce on her and rip her
apart by the rage that filled his gaze, but she quickly reminded herself that it was he whom had
ruined her sleep and therefore deserved what he got.

A quick glance at his mouth and she was reminded of another reason she had to terrorize the awful
prat. She thought of a million witty comments she could say, but none of them seemed to be brave
enough to leave her mouth and so left her sputtering lamely before him, the memory of the previous
night flooding back into her vision as if he were crashing his cold lips against hers all over
again. The eerie chill she'd experienced before crept up her spine and tingled at the base of
her neck.

Malfoy absentmindedly heaved himself off of the wall and wrapped his towel more securely around his
waist. Ginny's eyes left his own and took in his sopping wet hair, strewn in all directions,
and the droplets that covered his neck, shoulders, arms and clung to every inch of his
quidditch-defined chest.

She swallowed.

"Are you mad, or what?" He spat, suddenly, and Ginny nearly leapt out of her own skin.
The break in silence renewed her resolve and she threw back her shoulders determined not to let him
get the better of her.

"*Me? Mad?* What are you on about, stomping around like you own this place and waking
everyone up?" She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, wondering why all of the sudden
she felt inclined to press down the fly away strands of hair around her face; she had to stuff her
hands in the pockets of her dressing robe to restrain the impulse.

Malfoy scowled and ran a hand through his damp hair, "You seem to be the only one who has a
problem with it, Weasel. I don't see any other of your bloody fifty relatives barging in on
people taking showers and trying to burn them alive."

Ginny's temper flared. "It's about time someone put you in your place, Malfoy,"
She spat, "And you'd do well to respect those who are being *courteous* enough to let
you live with them in the first place."

Malfoy nearly laughed at her ludicrous statement. "*Courtesy*? Do you think I'm
*grateful* to be living in this rat hole with you and your sodding family? If it weren't
for the damn Ministry of Magic breathing down our necks, Mother and I would be vacationing in the
south of France right about now," He smiled bemusedly, "You know, *France* is that
big country with the really big tower and all those museums--"

"That's it! If you let one more foul word leave those slimy lips of yours, I'm going
to-to...-to..." Her oncoming tirade faded from her lips as Malfoy turned on her, pressing her
against the wall with such a powerfully menacing gaze that her hands shook at her sides.

"To *what*, Weasley?" He questioned in an unnervingly quiet voice.

Ginny swallowed, "Let's just say you'd have 5 very angry wizards on your tail if they
found out about what you did last night."

Malfoy sneered, "And what would that be, Weasley? I don't remembering doing anything last
night that had to do with you. You must have...*imagined* it," His steely eyes bore into
her own.

Ginny cottoned on and shoved him away from her forcefully. Malfoy hadn't been expecting this
and had to steady himself against the opposite wall quickly.

"My imagination is no where near as active as yours, Malfoy. But don't worry, your
secret's safe with me. I'd rather be attacked by a blast-ended skrewt than have anyone know
that you're slimy face came within ten feet of mine."

Malfoy stared at her, wondering at the blazing fire that lit up in her eyes, just like the night
before. He felt as if he should be challenging her in return, but the realization that he'd be
doing so out of enjoyment rather than necessity stunned the words off of his tongue. He barely
realized it as he silently took in the tan coloured freckles and auburn hair floating about her
head and actually appreciated the contrast between them and her crackling hazel eyes. However, as
she caught his gaze and he realized his previous thoughts, he straightened quickly, becoming all
too aware of his lack of clothing and the painful events that would commence if anyone caught Ginny
Weasley alone in a hallway with a half-naked Malfoy.

"I'm glad that we agree, then, Weasley." He stated calmly.

Ginny was more than unnerved by his penetrating gaze before but said nothing of it and let him
brush past her and back into the bathroom, leaving her alone in the middle of the corridor,
speechless once again.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Ack! Kinda short, I know, but it popped into my mind tonight out of no where. This was my
second shot at ch.4; the first was strange and didn't fall into my plot at ALL, so needless to
say, I nipped it in the bud and started from scratch. hope you liked!

don't 4get to *REVIEW*. it's that little button in the corner of your screen...put
there so you can tell authors like me if they suck or not. handy little thing if u ask
me...;)

-Adrial
  Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.0.0
-->



5. The Strangest Witch He Ever Met
----------------------------------

“To be or not to be a Weasley”

Chapter 5: The Strangest Witch He Ever Met

By: Adrial

AN: Phew! I can’t tell you possibly how difficult it was to get this chapter out, not to mention
the fact that portkey is giving me hell whenever I try to upload my chapters. I’ve used .doc AND
.html format, but it’s being completely unreasonable. Oh well, hopefully I can get it soon.

I’ve just finished the final spell-check and I’m just amazed that I managed to get it so
*long*. I actually like this chapter a lot. It’s only Day 2 of Draco shacking up at the
Burrow, so don’t expect any more snogging for 1 or 2 chapters, but I put a lot of time into the
dialogue so you could get a clear view as to where each Ginny and Draco stand with each other. I
really appreciate all the reviews and hope that you’ll keep on reviewing. I love the ones that tell
me things to improve upon (hint hint). J I hope you enjoy!

--Adrial

Disclaimer: *guffaw* I wish!

----------------------------------------------------------

"Ginny, hold still, dear!" Molly Weasley's amble fingers worked steadily on the
hem of what appeared to be a mountain of frilly lace topped off by a very red-faced, very annoyed
Ginny Weasley.

"Mum! You poked me again!" Ginny fought the urge to rub her bum where her mother was
magically working a thread and needle through her dress robes.

"Oh, hush. I've nearly finished the back side!" Molly said with an exasperated
sigh and wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead.

Ginny huffed and continued to stare at the same wall she'd been staring at for the past half
hour of pure, utter torture. She caught sight of her image in the reflection of a picture frame
adorning the fire place mantle and groaned inwardly. The robes were a disgusting pale pink color,
accented with a horrid amount of white and lavender lace and reeking of the second hand shop
they'd come from.

*Why couldn't Fred and George by* me *new dress robes? Now I've got to prance
around looking like a deranged tooth fairy—Oh!*

At that moment, a glint of something silver/white flashed in the corner of her eye and she
whipped around impulsively. However, she ended up howling in pain as the sewing needle penetrated
her thigh from her sudden movement.

"OW!" She yelped, losing all sense of proper fitting etiquette. She forced herself to
choke down the swell of disappointment that expanded in her chest when she turned around to see
that in that brief instant, what she thought had been Malfoy had disappeared.

Mrs. Weasley sighed dramatically and tugged Ginny's robes back down to the suspended needle
and thread.

"Maybe now you'll manage to stand *still*?"

Ginny answered her by craning her neck again, wondering if she'd imagined Draco's face,
but she couldn't smother the feeling that those cold grey eyes were watching her somewhere.

After her rather unnerving encounter with the insufferable Slytherin that morning, Ginny was at
a loss to go back to sleep and had retreated to the living room to brood until everyone woke
up.

She heard Draco head back up to his room and the sound of footsteps as someone else took their
turn in the shower.

*Damn him*. She fumed, jerking as she felt the cold needle come dangerously close to her
leg again. She vowed to herself that morning that if it was a game Draco wanted to play with her,
then she would do everything in her power to make sure that she ended up victorious. She wasn't
a Gryffindor for nothing, anyway.

She wrenched her thoughts away from the slick-haired nuisance and back to the ghastly
contraption her mother was sentencing her to for three whole years. She wondered if Malfoy was off
somewhere that instant with those sneering cold eyes squinting with mirth at her families’ lack of
dress robe funds. A strange feeling roused in her stomach and she tried to force it to go away. Why
should she be worrying about what the pompous jerk thought anyway?

*Right…wasn’t supposed to be thinking about him anymore. But…* She fingered a cluster of
cheesy fake pearls sewn in half moon shapes on the sleeve and sighed inwardly. *I’ll be the
laughing stock of 5th year, that’s for sure. Scratch that. The laughing stock of
Gryffindor.* Biting her lip thoughtfully, she braced herself to rescue her pride from certain
doom.

"Mum...do you think I could use some of the money I've saved to buy
some...erm...*different*, dress robes?" She meekly interrupted her mother's silent
mutterings as she instructed the needle with her wand.

Mrs. Weasley glanced at her with a weary gaze, "Ginny, dear...Oh, but you've been
saving up for years. You just wait. In an hour or two I'll have these robes good as new."
She smiled determinedly at her daughter, a smile Ginny had grown to know all too well. She saw the
regret smoldering somewhere behind her mother's deep brown eyes and could have hit herself.

Ginny sighed, "I know, Mum...I'm sorry. These robes are fine." She smiled feebly.
She hadn't meant to hurt her mother's feelings; she was just frustrated. For all the hell
the ministry liked to put her father through, they weren’t even bothering to raise his pay. In the
Weasley household, their lack of galleons was always seen but never spoken of. It was more than a
touchy subject, and they and the entire wizarding community had grown used to shrugging it off.
Ginny mused that at least they were all decent wizards; save for Ron, who seemed to knock off a
year or two of his life expectancy whenever he picked up his wand.

"Has dad come home yet?" She tried to change the subject. Molly's eyes darkened
for a moment and she took a break, sitting back on a little foot stool and sighing deeply.

"No...they've got him working overtime in the city. What with the Ministry finally
getting the sense knocked into them, they've been trying to keep him out of the picture until
it's all been smoothed over. I do hope he makes it in time for dinner..." She gazed at the
clock. The spoon with Percy's proud smiling face had been decapitated (courtesy of Fred and
George) sometime before and left a gaping hole next to her father's on
**"Work."**

Ginny fiddled with a piece of lace near her elbow and watched her mother's despondent face
cloud with worry. She knew that speaking about Dad's work only reminded her of Percy.
Ginny's vision blurred with disdain for her idiot brother. The day he came to his senses as
well would be the day Ginny would hex him into oblivion for putting her mother through such pain.
She could hardly remember a time when the Weasley family had been without one of its number, and
the deep sadness she saw in her mother's eyes whenever she thought no one was looking nearly
broke her own heart.

"Mum...do you think we could take a break for a while? My legs are beginning to go
numb..." Ginny broke the silence and shakily hobbled off of her perch on a stool.

Molly's mask of thought broke up suddenly and she nodded softly, "That's fine,
dear."

Ginny smiled gratefully and gave her mother a small kiss on her cheek.

"Why don't you send Dad an owl with some of those danishes we made this morning?
I'm sure he and Mr. Shakelbot would enjoy them," Ginny quipped and smiled at the light
that flickered back on in her mother's honey colored eyes.

"Ah, what a wonderful idea! I'll just go borrow Bill's owl...oh, do you think we
should make more? No...perhaps twenty will do. Though that Kingsley fellow could give Ron a run for
his galleons... " Molly muttered excitedly, quickly gathering her sewing things and patting
Ginny on the head absently. Ginny grinned. It was all she could do to at least give her mother
something to do to feel as if she was in control of something, even if it was just her
husband's stomach.

Once her mum had left, Ginny tore out of the lace atrocity and flung it on the couch, itching
from the polyester lining. With a sigh, she walked out and into the living room. Hermione was
sprawled out on the couch, pouring over a nasty looking book and scribbling notes rapidly on the
parchment resting beside her elbow.

"Oh, goodness, Hermione, won't you take a break for once?" Ginny chided, drawing
up a chair next to Bill and Ron's vicious game of wizard's chess.

"Blimey, Ron! Never thought you'd be better than Charlie," Bill muttered and
winced as his Queen was throttled by one of Ron's nastier looking pawns.

Ron smirked smugly, "Checkmate."

"Argh!" Bill groaned.

"I'm up next!" Harry announced, stepping into the threshold with a handful of owl
treats and Hedwig resting easily on his shoulder. She hooted softly as he gestured for her to perch
on the window sill so he could play and accepted the proffered treats hungrily.

Hermione suddenly gasped and began digging through her pockets urgently, "Oh, Gin! I've
nearly forgotten." She smiled triumphantly and withdrew a folded piece of parchment from her
jeans.

"This came for you earlier while you were with your mum." Hermione smiled slyly and
Ginny knew something was definitely up. She waved the letter in front of Ginny's face
tauntingly in a decidedly un-Hermione like fashion, and Ginny rolled her eyes. She snatched the
letter from her giggling friend's grasp and eagerly unfolded it.

"Oy! Who's that from? Another bleeding BOY?" Ron growled. Harry took the
opportunity to check Ron's knight and smiled deviously.

"Check."

"WHAT?"

Ginny ignored her nosey brother and admired the neat script scrawled over the parchment. Her
name was written elegantly in a deep blue ink in the top left hand corner. She smiled. Only one
wizard she knew wrote in that particular hue.

"It's from Dean!" She exclaimed, a curious frown etching along her face.

Ron's face drained of color.

"*Thomas?* I thought you dumped him a month ago!" He stood, ready to confiscate
the letter. Ginny hopped onto the couch, holding the letter high and out of his reach.

"Ronald! You stay out of my bloody business!" She growled. Ron glared at her.

"You're too young for him!"

"I'm *fifteen*, Ron! He's sixteen!"

"He...erm...he doesn't like quidditch!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ginny was fuming. Hermione chose that
moment to interject, tugging Ron's elbow gently.

"Ron! She's right. And how are you to know what his intentions are anyway? She's
not even read the letter yet!"

Ron's crimson flush faded slightly. "Alright then. Read it."

Ginny could have screamed. "I'll do as I wish, thank you very much! And I'd rather
if you tended to your own personal affairs and left me to mine.”

“But Gin-“

“Don’t ‘But Gin’ me, Ronald. I’m sick of you charging onto the scene whenever you think I need
your bloody protection,” She ignored the sound of the crumpling letter as she clenched her fists.
“I’m *not* a child anymore. I’ve grown up. Perhaps you should as well.”

She gave him another healthy glare and stomped out of the room, ignoring the flash of hurt that
struck through Ron's face and stung a tiny part of her heart.

Bill called her back calmly, but she waved him away and tore through the house—through the
kitchen, past the pale-faced Mrs. Malfoy staring dejectedly at a plate of greasy bacon, out the
back door, hop over the garden gnome, past the shed, stumble into the woods, collide with a tree,
fall onto the ground dizzily…

*That’s going to hurt in the morning...*

Ginny rubbed her forehead gingerly and tried to focus her eyesight. Blue and brown swirled
together as the sky and trees merged into one great collage of color. She groaned.

“Can you stand or are you going to sit there forever?”

Ginny’s head whipped around only to see what appeared to be three different Malfoys all spinning
around lethargically with that same, bloody sneer.

“Damn…and I thought one of you was bad enough,” She mumbled and moved to stand. An arm snaked
beneath hers and she found her footing. Once the world had ceased to spin, she wrenched her arm
from around Malfoy’s and scowled.

“Can’t a girl fall down without some sodding boy trying to play the hero all the time?” She
growled and poked a finger directly into Malfoy’s chest, “You know, I am fully capable of getting
up on my *own*, thank you very much! In fact, I could fall down a *cliff* and get up just
fine—ALONE. I don’t need to be protected all the time like some bloody porcelain doll!”

Ginny’s breaths came out in huffs as she spat the words directly into Malfoy’s dumbfounded face.
She drew a breath, ready to continue her tirade when he clamped a hand over her mouth, effectively
smothering her next words.

“What the bloody hell are you going on about?!” He screwed his face up in wonder. *This girl’s
got a screw loose somewhere. Oh wait, I’ve forgotten. She’s a* Weasley*.* He nodded to
himself, happy with his own logic.

Ginny slapped away his hand and growled, “Why have I got to shut up? What? Can’t a girl speak
her mind? Or are you too convinced I haven’t got one?!” She stomped her foot for emphasis and did
that jabbing thing with her finger in his chest again.

*If this is one of those things they taught us about in primary school… He* shivered at the
thought of his ten year old mind being scarred for life by the videos his professors showed him
years before about the unspeakable things their bodies went through, especially *girls*.
*What had they called it again? Post Monstrous Cyclops? Pre Mental Symptoms*?

“Are you quite finished with that, yet?” Draco nodded suggestively at the finger that was poking
a bruise onto his chest cavity.

Ginny’s reddened face drained slightly but still glowed bright in her cheeks. He caught the
embers of a dying fire glowing in her eyes before it, too, dwindled to nothing but a very abashed
young Weasley wishing she had run a bit harder into that tree and thus been knocked
unconscious.

Her hand slowly dropped from his chest and to her side.

“Sorry about that,” She muttered. Without her raging temper to guide her vocal chords, she was
having a hard time finding something coherent to say.

Draco stared at her for a moment, feeling slightly awkward after their run-in that morning and
tried to dreg up some look of disgust or disdain but was left blank-faced and suddenly wondering
why he’d even tried to help in the first place. Had he asked her if she was *alright*?

*Watch it, Malfoy. Soon they’ll have you taking tea with muggles.*

“What are you doing out here, anyway? I thought you’d be off somewhere with your mother,
disinfecting all the door handles or something,” She added the last bit with a scowl, trying to let
him know that she hadn’t forgotten that morning and her newly discovered despise for him.

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest, “Aren’t you feisty, little Weasel?” His lips sneered
mockingly, “If you must know, I was looking for my cloak. I seemed to have misplaced it
somewhere.”

Ginny’s eyes widened for a split second. She remembered throwing the cloak into her closet the
previous night, so Hermione wouldn’t find it and question her. She’d planned to sneak it into
Malfoy’s room when he wasn’t around but had forgotten. But she couldn’t very well let him
*know* she’d taken it.

*Just what I bloody need. Malfoy thinking I steal his clothing and sleep with it in my
bedroom…*

”Oh…well haven’t you got others?” She dug the toe of her shoe into the ground and bit her
lip.

Draco sighed as if she were missing some point, “Of course I’ve others, Weasel, but that one
just happened to be the one my father gave me for my last birthday. As if it’s any business of
yours, anyway,” He added with a healthy dose of Draco-glare.

Ginny returned his challenging gaze, “Fine. I’ll leave you to it then.” And she stalked off
deeper into the woods. She couldn’t very well go back into that house again. The house with all
those blathering idiots she called brothers. The house with Mrs. Malfoy’s cold, elegant face
screwed up in silent disgust at every speck of dirt she saw or imagined. The house with the chance
of bumping into that GIT named Draco strutting around.

The sound of branches cracking signaled Draco’s departure, and she sighed, feeling a great
weight lifted off of her shoulders.

Five minutes later found her sitting comfortably on the dock of the neighboring reservoir. She
dangled one of her feet near the water, barely flinching as it slipped beneath the water’s surface
briefly. Hot sun rays beat upon her back, and she pulled her hair off of her shoulders, letting it
roll onto her back in gilded curls.

She remembered Dean’s letter in her pocket but didn’t open it. Ron was right; she had broken
things off with Dean a few weeks ago. She didn’t really know why, but he gave her this impression
that he was only dating her for convenience rather than desire. His parents were pushing him to be
engaged before school let out, so he could be married off by his 18th birthday. Ginny
had been one of the first on his list of possible matches, but she didn’t seem too keen on being a
number in a waiting line for someone who couldn’t even remember that her favorite flowers were
*sunflowers*, not daisies.

She sighed and picked at a splinter in the wood. A cool wind blew over the lake. Ginny watched
it sway the bordering trees in a domino effect before tousling her own hair and sliding over her
face.

With a yawn she leaned back onto the warm dock and relaxed her muscles. There were hardly any
clouds in sight, so she had nothing to make pictures out of (a hobby she happened to be rather fond
of), only the occasional bird that flew overhead.

She didn’t hear the rustling of brush as Draco made his way through the thick woods and towards
the lake. She didn’t feel the dock creaking with the weight of his footsteps as they carried him
unknowingly towards her. Her eyes fluttered closed and she felt sleep tug gently at the corners of
her mind until she was submerged in it, leaving cold, grey eyes to speculate what exactly to do
with her.

----------------------------------------------------------------

“Ron, you’ve really got to calm down already; she’ll be *fine,*” Hermione’s exasperated
pleas were beginning to sound only half enthused as she’d been attempting to take Ron’s mind off of
his little sister for the better part of the afternoon.

Ron refused to hear reason, however, and was presently tying a slip of parchment to Pig’s tiny
leg. Pig hooted excitedly, flapping its miniature wings against Ron’s hands as they tried to get
around the giddy owl’s seizure-like movements.

“Who’s that for?” Hermione’s curious honey eyes narrowed at Ron’s struggle to get Pig to stop
moving.

Ron merely grunted in reply muttering things like “teach” and “boy” underneath his very heated
breath. She threw a reproachful glance at Harry, who’d been staring off at nothing in particular
during Ron’s minor melt-down.

For a moment, her heart softened, forgetting about Ron’s antics and settling upon The Boy Who
Lived before her. Her heart broke to think of just how much he’d been forced to live through. Now
that Sirius was gone…she wasn’t sure what Harry would do. He’d been acting perfectly normal since
Dumbledore had given his approval for him to finish the last month of his summer with the Weasleys.
But still…there were moments when his emerald gaze would darken, his jaw would clench, and he’d sit
silently for hours at a time, off in a world she knew nothing of.

“Harry, are you alright?” She meekly asked, unsure as to what deep thoughts she was disturbing,
but finding it unbearable to see him so despondent.

Green eyes flashed up to hers, clouded with something neither of them were sure of. She
swallowed, wondering if only moments before, she’d crashed through an image of Sirius falling
through a black veil or a memory of the Department of Mysteries. Harry’s gaze revealed nothing,
however, as he gave a small smile and shrugged. “Just a bit tired I guess. That bloke kept me up
half the night with his bloody snoring.”

Hermione laughed a small, gentle laugh and was pleased to hear him at least joking a bit. In the
meantime Ron had successfully pinned Pig to the living room table and had just finished attaching
the letter to his leg.

“Ah HA! You hyper little bugger,” He muttered at the defenseless bird and grinned at his minor
victory. “Now you take that straight away to *DEAN-THO-MAS.”*

“What?!” Hermione seized the bird from Ron’s death grip and cradled it in her arms. “Ronald
Weasley, if you plan on sending death threats to Dean, I’ll make *sure* you receive howlers
every day for the entire school year!” She glared at him and gingerly removed the letter from Pig’s
leg. The tiny owl seemed miffed at being tossed around so much and then stripped of such an
important job, and it hooted haughtily before buzzing off into the kitchen.

“Come off it, Hermione! That bloke’s got a thing for my little sister and he needs to know just
what he’s got coming if he does her wrong!” Ron, red-faced and irritated at Hermione’s actions,
tried to snatch the letter back from her.

“You know what, Ron? Ginny was right! You *do* need to GROW-UP!” With that, Hermione took
the confiscated letter and ripped it to shreds right before his eyes. Ron’s round gaze stared at
her unbelievingly and suddenly turned to fury.

“I had to knick Bill’s red ink to write that! How’m I supposed to scare the knickers off of
Thomas if I write it in prissy pants *blue*, like him?” He clenched his fists at his
sides.

Hermione scoffed, “Listen to yourself for once you flaming git!” She was so frustrated that she
could barely configure the proper words she needed to insult the freckles right off his face. She
gave up and huffed dramatically, after which she stomped out of the room and up the stairs. Ron
waited for the ceiling to crumble on top of him as it shook with each of her heavily weighted foot
steps. Finally, a bedroom door slammed shut and he let out a compressed breath, unsure of whether
he should be stark raving mad or slightly embarrassed. He settled on a contemplative frown.

“Guess I won’t be getting any help on that Charms essay tonight, then.”

Harry guffawed loudly and clapped him on the shoulder.

“I’d say you won’t be getting any help on *anything* for a while, mate.”

Ron scowled, “Bloody *girls*.” A moment of silence passed between the two before Ron
swallowed loudly.

“Erm, Harry, where’d you say I could get one of those cups, again?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ginny rolled over lazily on her side, basking in the warm summer breeze that covered her like a
blanket in her slumber. She concentrated on the fleeting dreams that flew by in her mind, never
lingering long enough for her to grab onto before dissolving into something more enigmatic than
before.

Suddenly, another vision began to transform, and a flaxen-haired boy appeared amidst a blinding
white light in her mind. It nearly drowned out his pale flesh and hair, and Ginny squinted
subconsciously to focus in on icy grey eyes she knew only too well. Malfoy sneered malevolently at
her, beckoning into the amorphous shadows behind him as the light suddenly shifted from the purest
of whites to the darkest of grays. Ginny’d seen that color before, right before a terrible thunder
storm. As if to confirm her thoughts, the sky rolled on into giant purple clouds, spinning
lethargically amidst spider-webbed lightning that glinted off of Malfoy’s eyes every time it sliced
through the sky.

“What are you doing here, Weasley? Come to play the hero have you?” Malfoy scowled at her. For
some reason that hurt Ginny in a place she’d never thought someone like Malfoy could touch. Her
mouth opened and closed but no sound would come out.

“Are you willing to choose then?” His gaze suddenly lost its malicious glint and fell behind a
curtain of almost disbelief.

Ginny felt herself nodding, but she knew not why.

Malfoy’s face suddenly darkened, his eyes turned to ice, his lips curved into a familiar
sinister grin. Just as the platinum hair framing his face began to flow out to his shoulders, Ginny
felt herself being shaken roughly. Her hands reached out blindly towards him, but she could not
stop the tremors assaulting her body.

Her eyes snapped open almost instantly. She focused blearily upon the face of the very person
she’d just been dreaming about.

“You know, you are one of the *strangest* witches I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet,
Weasley.” Draco uncoiled his fingers from around her shoulders and wiped them on his robes
absently.

Ginny stuttered for a moment, trying to fight between arguing with this Malfoy or attempting to
grasp the dream Malfoy that had left her vision only moments before. She settled on scrambling
shakily to her feet and glaring as best she could at the former.

“Considering the lot you hang around with, Malfoy, I’d beg to differ.” She reached for her hair
and ran her fingers through it. The soft curls sprang back to life by her gentle prodding and she
brushed it off of her shoulders once again.

All of this had not gone unnoticed by Malfoy. With the sweltering summer sun shimmering in her
hair and the ever-present fire sparkling in her eyes, the female weasel almost looked…

“What are you staring at, Malfoy? And I thought I’d gotten rid of you,” Ginny huffed and turned
around. The rippling waters faced her. She could have gone back to the house, but that would mean
having to cross paths with Malfoy again, and she needed a few seconds to collect herself before she
did that. She resorted to taking up her previous seat on the end of the dock, swinging her legs a
bit faster over the surface of the water. She prayed he would take the hint and bugger off.
Unfortunately for her, the powers that be weren’t listening or simply didn’t care, and a few
moments later, Draco took a seat a few feet away from her, eyes cast out over the lake.

Ginny fought desperately not to look at him. His elusive presence in her dreams had caught her
off guard. It was one thing to have to deal with him by day, but if she had to fear seeing his
sneering face every time she closed her eyes, she swore she’d never sleep again.

A few minutes passed by slowly for the unusual pair. Ginny’s sandals were soaked by then and she
gently took them off, setting them beside her. She leaned farther over the edge and watched fish
jet by underneath her swinging feet.

Draco wasn’t sure exactly why he’d decided to stay with the strange girl, but for some reason he
felt that if he were to leave, he’d be missing out on something. He broke their uncomfortable
silence reluctantly.

“So…what were you screaming and flailing about for anyway, Weasel?” He cast his gaze over at her
for a brief second just to make sure she’d heard him before returning it to the lake.

Ginny bit her lip. She wasn’t about to tell him she’d been dreaming about *him*. No way.
She wouldn’t dare reveal that he’d hurt her *feelings* by being so cold. She’d eat
flobberworms before she did any of that.

“Curious, are you?” She stated after a few moments of silence. Draco shrugged offhandedly.

“You could say that, I suppose. But then again, it’s not every day I get to hear girls calling
my name out in their sleep.” *Now when they’re awake… that’s a different story all together.*
He smirked at the thought.

Ginny was more than baffled. She was mortified.

“Believe me, if I’d had my choice of dreams, it would not involve the likes of *you*.” She
hoped she hadn’t let on that he had caught her off guard.

Draco gave a fleeting smile, “But I’m sure I present a better fantasy than that prissy Potter,
don’t you?”

Ginny didn’t say anything for a while after that.

“You know…you never answered my question.” She resorted to a change of subject after several
moments had passed. Draco’s silver eye brows narrowed.

“What was that, Weasel?”

Ginny swallowed, “Whether or not you ever grow tired of being a…a Malfoy?” She let the wind lure
her hair over the side of her face, hiding Draco from her view.

Draco contemplated her question for a moment. It was ridiculous, that was for sure, but perhaps
there was some dodgy, ulterior motive in her inquiry.

“Why do you ask?”

Ginny smiled slightly, “You can’t answer a question with a question, Malfoy.”

He found himself wanting to return her challenging grin, but quickly squashed the pesky
impulse.

“You’ve just done it yourself.”

Ginny thought for a moment. “Fine, you answer mine and I’ll answer yours,” She held out a hand,
“Deal?”

*Oh, Merlin. What would Ron say if he caught me striking a deal with the spawn of Satan
reincarnate?* She deviously thought that she really did not care. If it annoyed Ron, she was all
for it.

Draco stared at her proffered hand, slightly perplexed.

“Come on, Malfoy. I assure you that the Weasley epidemic isn’t contagious.” She turned so she
was facing him directly and stuck her hand closer towards him.

He mulled over her comment and hesitantly took her hand in his own. Ginny felt his long fingers
coil around hers and nearly jumped out her skin at the softness of his touch. Before she could
dwell on that longer, he’d let go of her hand and placed it back beside him.

“So…you want to know if I ever get tired of being a Malfoy?”

Ginny nodded slightly.

“Are you mad?”

“That was a question, Mr. Malfoy. I believe we’re looking for *answers*, here.” She smiled
again. Draco found himself wanting her to do it again, but a curious frown found its way back onto
her freckly face once again.

“Right, well then my answer is this: of course not! And you should be sent to St. Mungo’s for
ever asking that bloody asinine question in the first place.”

Ginny frowned deeper. “But…everyone knows you by it! Listen to how I address you. ‘Malfoy.’
Don’t you wish people would just call you,” She paused, wondering if saying his name would be
taking things a bit too far. *Oh come on, Gin. You’re not talking about bloody Voldemort
here!* “

…Draco?” She finished triumphantly, feeling slightly as if she’d released a small pressure from
her mind.

Draco scoffed, “Who bloody well cares? My family is the longest living line of pure blooded
wizards EVER. My father practically runs the Ministry of Magic, and I will never have to work a day
in my *life* thanks to my last name,” He said it all animatedly as if it were blatantly
obvious, “If I were you, I’d be wishing I could have *my* last name and not the cheap life
that comes along with the one you’ve got to live with.”

Ginny’s blood boiled at his ending statement, but then again… She remembered all the times she
cursed her last name or felt embarrassed by her throng of siblings and fiery hair. By the
hand-me-down wardrobes and tell-tale freckles. By her father and his love for all things muggle.
But she settled on one thought at last and voiced it clearly.

“I’d rather be a Weasley than ever have to live the life of a Malfoy.” Her statement was calm
and quiet. She stared fixedly on Draco’s eyes as she said it, and watched as they wavered for a
moment.

In Draco’s mind he was screaming with indignation at her comment. She had no bloody idea what it
was like to be a Malfoy. It had taken him years to convince his father he was even semi-worthy of
his own heritage. And to think that this girl, this *Weasley*, was trying to put herself in
his bloody shoes and judge him on it made him want to grab her and shake sense into her brain. He
prided himself most on carrying out the legacy of his last name, and she was sitting there acting
as if she knew everything there was to know about being a Malfoy. As if…she could read him without
even himself knowing.

He shivered at the thought, willing himself to convince her that her previous statement was just
about as ludicrous as it was for the two of them, a Weasley and Malfoy, to even be conversing—
*civilly*, for that matter.

“Give me one good reason why you’d rather be poor and shadowed by fifty brothers when you could
be the sole heir to an endless fortune?” Ginny knew he was clearly flabbergasted by her
resolution.

She stared at him for a moment. A million thoughts were running through her mind at once. She
thought of the cruelty that sparked to life inside of Draco’s eyes whenever he laid eyes on a
muggle-born. She thought of the snobby air of his mother and the way neither of them spoke to each
other as if in some constant inner argument. She thought of his father and the way she’d seen Draco
treated by him that time in her second year. She thought of what a cold, hollow comfort he took in
money and luxuries.

Finally, she envisioned the warmth of having her mother crush her in a loving embrace, of her
brothers’ constant struggle to make sure she was never harmed in any way, her father’s kind heart
and diligence, and the comfort of having a safe world to return to after 8 months at Hogwarts.

Her heart, in that moment, opened up to the boy sitting before her. She was nearly suffocated by
the desire to show him what she saw. To let him feel the love and security she was practically
submerged in since the day she’d been born. She unconsciously took his hand in her own.

“Love.”

Draco’s hand was burning beneath her own. Was she serious? *Love?* She must have been
reading too many of those sodding romance novels.

*Love?*

Such a contemptible emotion did not exist for Draco. Respect. That was what mattered. That was
what his last name assured him for the rest of his life.

Draco stared deeply at her, wondering if she were at any moment to going burst out in laughter.
But her face was dead set, and she had meant what she’d said.

“And that is exactly why you are you and I am me.” He finally said. Ginny didn’t miss a
beat.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She furrowed her brow but neither removed their hand from the
others.

“You build your life upon wild dreams of love and all that nonsense. We *Malfoys* depend on
a cold, hard foundation. We invest our time in our money and our reputation. The likes of you,
Weasley, waste all their time on dreams and ruddy *good deeds*. And look where it’s gotten
your lot. A sorry old house and second hand clothing.”

Ginny pursed her lips. “And you’re so happy, are you? Tell me, *Malfoy*. Would your parents
do *anything* for you? Would your friends risk their *lives* to help you if you needed
it? Would your father work his arse off for something he believes in to teach you how a decent man
should act?”

Draco wanted to scream in frustration at the girl. Of course none of the things she’d said were
true. They all involved silly trifles called emotions. Silly trifles no member of his family would
ever bet a bit of their fortune on.

“No.” He answered simply. Ginny gently removed her hand from his.

“I suppose you’re right then. There’s a reason you are a Malfoy. But that doesn’t stop me from
feeling sorry for you.”

With that, she stood up gracefully, grabbing her damp shoes and beginning to leave him to
himself. Their conversation had deeply upset her and she knew she’d be dwelling upon it for some
time afterwards.

Draco felt offended by the way she’d said she felt ‘sorry for him.’ He was appalled at the
thought of that little girl thinking he needed *Love* to be happy. He shook his head with a
pensive frown.

“I meant what I said before, Weasley. You are the *strangest* witch I’ve ever met.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

So…what’d you think? Let me know! Review Review Review Review! 

love,

Adrial



6. Lessons with the Weasel
--------------------------

“To be or not to be a Weasley”

Chapter 6: Lessons with the Weasel

By: Adrialà Adrial_06@yahoo.com

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“I need love, love
To ease my mind
I need to find, find someone to call mine
But mama said

You can't hurry love
No, you just have to wait
She said love don't come easy
It's a game of give and take

You can't hurry love
No, you just have to wait
You got to trust, give it time
No matter how long it takes

You can't hurry love
No, you just have to wait
She said love don't come easy
It's a game of give and take”

~The Supremes—“You Can’t Hurry Love”

--------------------------------------------

“Bugger!” Ginny knelt deeper into a rather nasty looking peony bush and squinted to see through
the tangles arms of branches and leaves. Suddenly a tiny giggle caught her ears and she jiggled the
branches forcefully, only managing to whack herself in the face with a ricocheting limb and
producing another round of laughter from within the mass of green.

She growled and wrenched herself out of the chortling hedge. “I give up! The next time Mum wants
us to de-gnome, I’m knicking one of Fred and George’s canary creams to get out of it.”

Wiping her soiled hands on her shorts, Ginny flipped her ponytail off of her neck and glared at
her chortling companion.

“Shut it, Potter, or I’ll *give* you something to laugh about,” She warned. Harry
immediately clamped his mouth shut.

“Oy! Ginny! Got any yet?” Ron’s voice bellowed from the kitchen window where Mrs. Weasley had
delegated Hermione and him to scrub down the kitchen—sans magic.

Ginny rolled her eyes skyward and yelled back, “No! But if you don’t stop asking the same bloody
question every five minutes, I’m going to put the first that I *do* find underneath your
pillow tonight!”

Harry figured it was safe to laugh at that and did. Ron’s blue gaze widened and he scowled at
his sister, muttering incoherently underneath his breath. Soon the window had slammed shut and all
was silent again.

Harry rolled back his shoulders. He’d already de-gnomed his part of the garden and was now
helping a rather frustrated Ginny get started on hers.

“Gin, you’re being too nice with them. Here—let me show you,” He cautiously stepped beside her,
wondering if she’d lash out at him for trying to imply that he was demeaning her womanly right to
de-gnome the way she wanted to de-gnome or something, but when she promptly stepped aside, he took
it as an OK to continue.

“First of all, you can’t just stick your head in there. You’ve got to make them *think*
they’ve gotten the better of you,” Harry said all this while looming over the top of the bush,
pretending to fiddle with a flower or two. Ginny watched, half-expecting nothing to happen, but
suddenly a knobby, bald head appeared at the base of the bush, its beady black eyes swooping over
the grounds as if checking for any signs of human.

“Ah ha!” Harry yanked the gnome up by its ankles and let it thrash around wildly before swinging
around in circles and flinging it clear across the bordering hedges and into a field.

Ginny scowled. “Oh, right. Make it look so bleeding easy then!” Just then another potato-like
head appeared out of the corner of her eye, and she lunged for it. Soon, she’d grabbed the kicking,
screaming, and biting little pest and imitated Harry’s elaborate flinging technique.

“Wow, Gin! You might have landed that one in the lake,” He smiled at his apprentice
appreciatively.

“Hey, Potter! The Canons are on the wireless! They’ve made it to nationals!” Bill’s voice
bellowed out from the kitchen this time.

Harry’s face lit up as if Christmas had come early. He offered Gin an apologetic grin.

“Sorry, Gin, gotta run. You’ll be OK, right? Great! See you!” And with that, he tore off across
the lawn, leaving a very annoyed Ginny to de-gnome the remaining five infested bushes all by
herself.

“Boys.” She spat. And suddenly, a thought popped up into her mind.

She peered over at the other end of the lawn where Draco and his mother were sitting like a
queen and prince, sipping ice cold pumpkin juice; both were shaded by two gigantic emerald green
umbrellas with built in fans and reclining in cushy, sun-repelling chaise lounges.

Draco had been watching the de-gnoming bemusedly the entire time, never having seen one before.
There was a reason his hands were pale and smooth as a baby’s skin; they’d never been used for more
than hanging onto a broom stick or snapping for a house elf to do his bidding.

Ginny shrugged and walked over to him cautiously. Once she’d reached them, she instantly
plastered on a bright smile.

“Hello, Mrs. Malfoy,” She grasped her hands behind her back and added, “Draco.”

Draco’s face wavered for a moment. Had she called him…Draco?

Ginny smiled inwardly at his startled reaction. She’d made it a point the previous afternoon
that the first step to teaching Draco that there was more to life than galleons and mansions, was
to offer him her respect.

Narcissa’s response was to take another bored sip of her juice and nod ever so slightly. Draco
did his best to dreg up a sneer.

“Weasley.”

*So you want to be difficult do you? Fine then…I love a challenge.* Ginny smiled wider,
throwing him off guard, and gestured towards the other end of the yard.

“Would you like to help me de-gnome, Draco?”

Draco’s mouth hung open and he suddenly laughed. “Right, Weasel. Next you’ll be having me scrub
the loo, right?” He chuckled at the thought and returned his gaze to the book lying open on his
lap.

Ginny’s face nearly screwed up in annoyance. *Why you spoiled rotten little—*ahem*…I’m
supposed to be setting an example, right?* *Right.*

“Only if you’d be willing to do the toilets; Fred and George have *horrible* aim,” She
giggled at the appalled expression that fell over his face. “I’ll take that as a yes! Come on,
then; no use in wasting away this gorgeous afternoon lazing about is there?” She didn’t bother to
wait for a response and immediately knelt over to him, tossed his book onto the ground and dragged
him out of his chair.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, Weasel?!” He tried to wriggle out of her grip,
but she’d already managed to get him half way across the lawn.

Ginny merely giggled again, “Oh, don’t be so difficult, Draco! It’s *loads* of fun!” She
ended up having to use both hands and dig her heels into the hard earth to get him to budge the
rest of the few meters or so to the throng of bushes palpitating with excited garden gnomes.

Narcissa watched their interlude with an un elusive frown on her face; curiosity seemed to get
the better of her as she settled her gaze back onto her novel, one gray/blue eye peaking over the
top every once in a while to watch.

“Now, watch me.” Ginny eyed Draco warningly as if daring him to try to move. When he remained
standing, she proceeded to bend over the bush casually as Harry had before.

When she caught sight of a bobbing head, she took her chance and wrapped her fingers around its
neck. Lifting it out of its refuge, she took a moment to let it get a few good kicks at empty air
before dangling it wildly in front of Draco’s face.

Which promptly drained of color.

“What’re you—Weasley!! Get it the hell away from me!” Draco backed up a few feet with his hands
raised in defense of the squealing gnome who was roughly shouting “Geroff! Geroff!” at Ginny’s
tightening grip on its neck.

Ginny laughed outright at his girly antics and flung the gnome easily over the hedge. It landed
with a thud next to his other evicted comrade and shook a grubby fist in the air.

Draco’s face regained a bit of color again, though he was still too pale in Ginny’s opinion, and
he straightened his shirt with a dignified sniff.

Ginny was still giggling madly at him. Curtains of her auburn hair cascaded in front of her,
hiding her bent head from view. She tried to straighten, but every time she caught a glimpse of
Draco’s face, she fell over again with renewed mirth.

Draco didn’t know what on earth had been so funny. He watched her laugh giddily with his arms
crossed over his chest defensively.

“Are you done yet, Weasel?” He spat. It only made another round of laughter bubble from her,
though, and he huffed.

When Ginny was finally able to control herself and notice the look of pure agitation plastered
over Draco’s face, she instantly sobered. A frown slid over her face, and Draco subconsciously
noted that he didn’t very much appreciate the change.

Ginny caught him off guard for the second time that afternoon by placing a hand softly over his
forearm. Her hazel eyes were clouded with some emotion Draco couldn’t quite decipher, but whatever
it bloody well was, he didn’t like it and he wished she would stop.

“I’m sorry, Draco. I didn’t mean to—well, I just thought that it was kind of, well…funny…” She
stumbled over her words. She didn’t want him to be mad at her for some reason. Draco threw a glance
at her pale hand over his arm. As if her grip was searing a hole through his flesh, he wrenched his
arm away forcefully.

“I’m not…*funny*.” His lips formed a tight scowl, something Ginny found impossibly
humorous. She decided not to let the giggle escape her lips, however. But she thought the way he
tried to hard to be taken seriously made him appear, somewhat…vulnerable, to her at least.

She cleared her throat to muffle the urge to laugh, “Erm…right. Of *course*, not. I’m
terribly sorry for even suggesting such a horrible, *dreadful* notion,” She furrowed her brow
and patted his arm comfortingly, “To be funny! A *Malfoy*? How could I have even
*considered* it?”

“Are you being cheeky with me, Weasel?” Draco said with a frown.

Ginny grinned, “Now, Draco, you mustn’t assume! I was only *agreeing* with you.” With that,
Ginny began searching for more gnomes, trying to muffle her laughter at the memory of his scowling
face.

*Ginny—one, Draco—zip.*

*----------------------------------------------------*----

Ginny had continued to pester Draco for the rest of the day. It seemed that wherever he was, she
would appear out of thin air, blathering on excitedly about quidditch or what a lovely day it was.
It seemed to Draco as if she were trying her damnedest to find brand new ways to annoy or frustrate
the hell out him.

She was talking now, *Again*, Draco thought absently as he flipped through a thick book
with a bored sigh. They were sitting on the lumpy old couch in the Weasley living room, bathed in
pink and orange sunlight as dusk settled upon The Burrow.

Ginny in her own right was growing just as livid with the flaxen-haired stone wall as he was
with her. He didn’t seem to be interested in anything she was talking about. She was only trying to
get him to open up a little…just a bit—only far enough for her to be able to see exactly what she
was getting herself into by trying to befriend him. She’d decided that morning in the garden that
that was exactly what she was attempting to do—to befriend a slimy, conniving, and ruthless
slytherin.

She bit her lip, at a loss of what to say next. She’d covered all the basics: favorite books
(“Shut up, Weasley.”), favorite color (“The color your face turns when I say ‘Shut up, Weasley’”),
his most embarrassing moment (“Are you *still* blathering on?”), and finally, as a last
resort, she’d tried to get him to play a game of chess with her.

“Chess?” He narrowed his eyes, “You mean that boring game that great wanker you call a brother
always plays?” He sneered at the way her eyes flashed when he’d mentioned her brother.

“Alright, no chess then,” Ginny nibbled her bottom lip harder. Draco watched silently. He’d been
noticing more and more of the tiny things Ginny would do in certain situations. For instance,
whenever he’d insult her or her family, the skin beneath her freckles would turn pink and her eyes
would flash as if smothering some internal fire she greatly wished to spit into his face; or there
would be times when she’d be at a loss for words and twirl her hair between her fingers or do what
she was doing right now—that bloody nibbling.

“Is there a reason you’ve been stalking me all day long, Weasley? I mean, I know I’m excellent
to look at—oh, wait. That’s it.” He smiled coyly.

“Then you must forgive me if I’ve interrupted you. Please, do *continue* to admire me.” He
craned his neck at that moment, staring out of the window of the Weasley’s living room, as if
posing for a picture and trying to look debonair.

Ginny snorted rather loudly. Draco’s face snapped away from his pose and looked at her
quizzically.

“You, Draco Malfoy, have got to be the most pompous git I’ve ever met.”

She chortled loudly and patted his arm, “Really, do you carry a photograph of yourself around in
your robes as well?” She grinned slyly and shocked the suaveness right off of Draco’s face when her
hands suddenly dug into the sides of his robes as if in search of the aforementioned mirror.

Draco recoiled immediately, squirming away from her searching hands.

“Are you mad?! Keep your bloody hands off!” He tried to get her to stop her prodding, but Ginny
knew she’d just trekked upon forbidden grounds.

*So…the great Draco Malfoy is ticklish, hmm? My, my, my…what is a witch to do?*

She stopped for a second, and Draco eyed her as if she’d suddenly grown five heads and fangs.
Ginny wriggled her eyebrows suddenly and launched herself at him, digging her fingers into his
sides with vigor.

“Argh! Weasel!!”

Draco thrashed around, trying desperately to squelch the dreaded laughter that was poking at his
cheeks, itching to be released. Ginny was laughing awfully loud at the red, panicky look that fell
over his face as if at any moment he would pop with suppression.

“Oh, come on, tin man! Laugh! I know you’re just *dying* to!” Ginny began to scoot closer
to him to get better leverage and wiggled her fingers up and down his sides. And it was as if a dam
had broken in Draco Malfoy’s head. The bloody boy was *laughing!*

Ginny’s eyes widened to the size of tea saucers. She’d never, *ever* heard Draco Malfoy
*laugh* before. It was…odd and relieving at the same time, as his surprisingly deep chuckles
fell into the air around them. As if she’d been given a ray of hope that perhaps he wasn’t as cold
as he seemed.

In her shock, her hands had paused in their devious movements. Draco was still chuckling, his
grey eyes bright as a snowy sky right before a blizzard. However, there was a tinge of warmth in
his cheeks and his lips stretched into a wide…*smile*. An honest and genuine *smile*. It
could not be mistaken for anything more or anything less.

Ginny’s heart softened considerably, and she felt as if she’d perhaps gone too far. Her face
reddened to a deep hue of magenta, and she waited for Draco’s laughter to subside.

It was if the world had stopped for a moment. Draco’s chest suddenly stopped vibrating with
hearty laughter; his face lost all traces of amusement, except for the traitorous tears of mirth
that were twinkling in the corners of his eyes. Ginny’s hands were folded on her lap, nervously
fidgeting with the other. Her face was half-hidden by a curtain of her hair, and Draco felt the
urge to brush it aside—to see her face and…

“Ginny! Mum wants you to dust the study before dinner!”

*Thank Merlin; for* once *Ron has decent timing.* Ginny silently thanked the powers
that be and raised her body up from the


couch, not daring to look Draco in the eye. It was exactly what she’d wanted…to see him smile,
unrestrained and without a


thought about image or pride. But she hadn’t expected to feel so endeared by it. To feel as if
she might as well live to see him smile


like that, if only for her.

“I’m coming, Ron! Keep your shirt on!” She called into the kitchen where Ron’s voice had

come from.

She swallowed over the dryness of her throat and began to walk away.

*Wait? What the heck is the matter with me? One smile from that sodding brick wall and I go
crackers?*

She pasted on a determined expression and turned back to see Draco fumbling for the book that
had fallen to the ground in all the erm…excitement, and offered him a small smile.

“You’ve never been in the study, have you?”

Draco looked at her with a weary expression, “If it’s anything like that hole you’ve got me
living in, I’d rather not, thank you.”

And the world squeaked as it began to turn on its rusty axis once again.

Ginny scowled. “Don’t look a gift horse in its mouth, Mal-Draco,” She hurriedly corrected
herself. “Besides, I’ve still got a potions essay to do tonight and this will take at least two
hours by myself.”

Draco sneered, “As if I have time to be spending alone with a crazy witch like you! How’m I to
know that you won’t start attacking me again?”

Ginny huffed, “Oh, get over yourself, already! Everybody’s ticklish!” She exclaimed, exasperated
at his sudden change in demeanor. She sort of missed his smile…

*Get a grip, Gin. You’ve got a mission here.*

“Yeah, well, Malfoy’s aren’t.”

She snorted loudly again. “Yes, and you were just having an allergic reaction to my hands, were
you?”

“How’re you to know that I wasn’t? You seem to have been attacked by the obnoxious disease that
everyone in this bloody household seems to suffer from.”

Ginny growled. *Second Mission: Permanently revoke Draco’s ability to speak.*

“Fine. I guess the rumors are true then. Draco Malfoy really *is* the biggest coward in the
wizarding world,” She smiled in what would be a pitying manor and turned again. She could
practically see the curtain of horror that fell over his face.

Draco knew he was being challenged again by this cheeky little girl; it was something he’d grown
used to of late, bantering with her as if it came second-naturedly. He’d known it the moment she’d
started to call him by his blasted first name. Well, Malfoys never backed down from a challenge,
and he cared more about being truthful to his heritage than anything. That was exactly the reason
he’d jumped up from the couch at her accusation, snarling with anger.

“Where’s that sodding study, anyway, Weasel?”

Ginny grinned. “Right this way, Draco.” She gestured towards a door juxtaposed to the living
room. It practically fell in perfect synchronization with the rest of the room, so Draco had failed
to notice it at all. It was positioned next to a towering bookcase filled to the crumbling point
with various books and trinkets, dotted every now and then with smiling, moving pictures of the
Weasley children. Draco sniffed defensively, knowing he’d walked right into her trick.

*Yes, she would have made an excellent slytherin, that’s for sure.*

Ginny walked over to the door and muttered something Draco didn’t quite catch. Instantly, the
door moved open on its own, seeming to disappear behind the walls and reveal a sizable room.

Ginny stepped over the threshold, ushering Draco in as well. He eyed the room with a judgmental
frown on his face, instantly coughing and wheezing as a ball of dust flew into his nose.

Ginny suppressed a giggle with her hand. “Yes, well, as you can see, this place has been due for
a dusting for quite some time. I can’t remember the last time I came in here…must have been ages
ago…” She eyed the wide room thoughtfully.

The walls were barely even visible from behind endless newspaper clippings, all depicting some
grand event from as early as the seventeenth century. Draco peered at one article showing a chubby
wizard standing in front of a small, newly built home. He was straightening his tie and proudly
mounting a sign over the front door. It read, “The Burrow” in red letters.

“My great-grandfather Weasley,” Ginny explained, noticing his line of vision. “That was The
Burrow before it was *The Burrow,*” She said vaguely. Draco quirked an eyebrow curiously.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, “Well you say so all the time. We couldn’t have very well fit a family of 9 into a
little box like that could we?” She pointed to another article, a tiny one with an already balding
red-headed man perched sitting on the front porch. His lanky arms were around a much younger
looking Mrs. Weasley, her rosy cheeks flushed with excitement and obvious affection for the man
draped around her. Her hands rested lightly on her swollen stomach.

Beside them, a much, much younger Charlie and William Weasley were seated next to their parents.
In Molly’s arms was a small boy with a terribly familiar snooty face—Percy—and the headline
read:

**ARTHUR AND MOLLY WEASLEY TO BE EXPECTING FOURTH CHILD:**

*“It’s no surprise to the wizarding world that one of the longest line of Wizards in recorded
history is adding its fourth link to the rapidly growing chain. Arthur and Molly Weasley express
their vast excitement for yet another addition to their presently all-wizard hoard of red-haired,
freckled children. Recently inheriting the family-owned home, The Burrow, the Weasleys are reported
to be magically enhancing the living space with a reported two new stories…”*

Draco paused in his reading, watching as a second and third tier to the ancient looking home
suddenly appeared above the Weasley’s red heads.

Ginny guffawed. “Too bad they didn’t know they were expecting the twins yet. They could have
given everyone an advanced warning.” She giggled to herself and sighed.

Draco’s eyes tore themselves away from the article, taking in the rest of the room. It was
undoubtedly a stockpile for the Weasley’s rat-packing tendencies. Towers upon towers of picture
frames were stacked like miniature Leaning Tower of Pisa’s and there were two or three ancient
looking desks shoved in a corner. They seemed to be struggling to keep from crumbling from beneath
the weight of giant boxes stacked atop them and lumpy with their contents.

Ginny sighed and grabbed a duster from a table near her elbow. She paused at a box labeled
“ICKLE BABY THINGS” and a small smile played across her face. She turned to Draco excitedly and
giggled.

“Oh, look!” She tore open the top of the box, immediately scrunching up her face in adoration of
a pair of tiny baby shoes that fit in the palm of her hand.

She held them up for Draco to see, “Oh! Can you imagine my great giant brothers actually being
able to ever fit their big feet into these things?” She laughed and drew a pair of matching pants
and shirt from the box as well. A broom stick was embroidered in the shirt and littered the faded
legs of the little pants.

“One of Mum’s earlier knitting endeavors,” Ginny explained, not being able to wipe the nostalgic
smile from her face.

Draco suddenly wished he hadn’t ever walked into this room. It reeked of poor, sentimental
wizards like some live version of a greeting card. He could practically feel the sappy family
orientated atmosphere closing in on him, drowning him with preschool artwork and smiling family
portraits.

Ginny startled him when she spoke again. “Do you have a room like this in your home, Draco?” She
was holding a tiny goblin suit in her hands, most likely an old Halloween costume. She shifted so
that she could look through another box and brushed the hair out her eyes.

Draco silently mulled over her question. He thought of the dreary family portraits that lined
the halls of his father’s numerous studies, all containing platinum haired witches and wizards with
a striking resemblance to one another. He remembered being too scared to even look at the sneering
cold gazes of his great-aunts and uncles, grandfathers and third and fourth cousins, until he was
10 and was forced to sit in his father’s study as punishment alone for twelve hours for trying to
play with the houselves.

“Not like this.” He found himself muttering.

Ginny shrugged, “Too bad. It brings back memories…” She held up a crumpled piece of parchment,
eyebrows furrowed to read the words scrawled sloppily in her father’s own handwriting. It had come
from a small black velvet box, big enough to be shoe box, and was filled to the brim with folded
bits of old parchment.

She gasped in delight. “Oh, it’s Mum and Dad’s old letters from when they were in school!”
Eagerly, she tore her eyes over the writing.

Draco wanted to leave more than ever right then. The last thing he wanted to do was hear sonnets
and flowery poetry from Weasley Sr.

Ginny didn’t seem to cotton on to Draco’s disgusted silence and began to read.

*“…Dear Molly, I can’t wait to see you in Hogsmeade this weekend. I’ve got prefect duties
until twelve every night this week so I’m afraid I won’t be able to meet you after dinner tomorrow.
And yes, I did love the scarf you knitted for me. It’s wonderful, just like you, my sweet Molly
Pruett…”*

Ginny’s eyes were bright. “I’d Mum’d go nutters if she knew I was reading these, don’t you,
Draco...Draco?” Ginny snapped her head up from the letter, taking in the all but empty, but
severely lacking in Draco, room.

“Where’d he run off to?” She shrugged and scowled. “That’s just like him. Skivving off before we
even get started dusting.” She scowled at the place he’d been.

*Slytherins*.


---------------------------------------------------

Ginny decided to let Draco off that one time. As soon as she’d finished quickly gathering clouds
upon clouds of muddy colored dust and cobwebs from the study, she’d emptied her findings into a
trash bag and carried it into the kitchen where her mother was engaged in what looked to be a
rather nasty argument with her father.

Molly Weasley’s plump face was screwed up in anger; it held the same magenta hue that Ginny had
inherited as she practically steamed at the ears. Arthur Weasley was backed up against the stove,
sputtering and fighting to get a good word in or two. So far, Ginny’d guessed, he’d been
unsuccessful.

“—and so what if Fudge figures it out! Somebody’s got to start telling the truth around
there!”

“But…Molly—”

“And that awful *Daily Prophet,* trying to make it seem as if he’s some kind of hero!
Honestly! What are you going to do about it, Arthur? Continue to let them keep you busy with
possessed toasters and mail boxes?! *You* should be the one telling Fudge just where he can
stick his blubbering nonsense! Right up his delusional, ruddy AR-“

“Ginny, dear! How lovely to see you!” Arthur immediately ran over to his daughter as soon as
he’d noticed her and embraced her, though Ginny knew he was really using her as a shield from her
mother.

Molly’s face deflated slightly, but Ginny imagined she saw puffs of smoke dissipating around her
ears and live sparks shooting out of her eyes.

“Have you finished dusting, Ginny?” Molly’s tone was still harsh, and Ginny fervently nodded,
eager to get out of the kitchen before her mother decided to whip out her white glove for
verification.

“Good then. Your father and I were just having a…chat,” She tightly smiled at her husband, and
Ginny saw the promise for more “chatting” as soon as there were no more witnesses, “before dinner.
The rest are already eating outside. You go and run along now, dear.”

Ginny turned to do exactly that, feeling awful for leaving her dad alone with her mother when
she was so vicious looking, but before she’d made her exit, Molly spoke up again.

“Oh, and could you please tell that Mr. Malfoy that he won’t be having any dinner if he leaves
it with your unsupervised brothers for much longer while he’s hiding up in that attic?”

Ginny nodded. *The attic? Figures. It must remind him of the Slytherin dungeons.*

Minutes later, she was panting from climbing so many flights of stairs and gazing curiously at
the attic door. It stood ajar and the ladder leading up to the floor was hanging in plain view. She
cautiously climbed it, wondering if he might attack her if she didn’t make her presence known.

“Draco? Are you up here?” She could barely see in the dark. The only light came from the open
window where the sun’s departure from the sky had painted the sky in magentas and purples. Ginny
swallowed. There had been a ghoul in the attic before, but it had moved on to the basement over the
school year, her mum had told her. She still couldn’t forget the awful sounds it used to keep her
up all night with. She used to have her mum cast silencing charms around her bedroom to stop the
nightmares.

She shivered. It was awfully dark and gloomy in The Burrow’s attic. Easing herself up the last
few steps of the ladder, she crouched low so as not to hit her head on the ceiling and began
searching for any signs of human life.

She found Draco sitting underneath the window. His face was half cast in shadow, and his cold
gaze landed on her fleetingly before he turned his head out of the window once again. His black
robes disappeared in the approaching darkness, making his pale skin stand out like a beacon in the
dreary atmosphere.

Ginny’s heart leapt in her throat at the sight of him. She’d never seen him look so ominous
before, with his haunting grey eyes and cold demeanor. It was as if in his own brooding he became
an entirely different person from the cold, witty bloke she’d been used to exchanging insults with.
She suddenly felt as if she were interrupting some private moment or something and nearly turned to
leave. But Draco’s voice stopped her, and she slumped over towards him wiping a cob web off her
arms on the way.

“What are you *doing* up here?” She threw a weary glance at the dark corner he was sitting
in and sighed, “Are you…alright?”

Draco’s eyes were clouded over, but he shrugged. “What’s it to you?” He noticed the weary looks
she gave the attic as she came closer towards him.

“Are you afraid of the dark, Weasel?”

Ginny felt a surge of relief when he cast his trademark smirk at her. It was a lovely change
from the dark, subdued Draco she’d come to meet at first.

“Maybe…” She bit her lip. “There used to be a ghoul up here. I’ve never actually been up here
before, well at least not without Ron or Dad or Mum. But that was ages ago…” She shivered again.
Draco smothered the impulse to hand his cloak over to her. She wasn’t shivering from cold. She was
actually *frightened*. He wondered at that for a moment, noticing how her usually fiery hazel
eyes would dart around every other moment as if expecting some gruesome attic monster to come
jumping out at her.

He smirked again. “Don’t worry, Weasel. The big bad ghoul isn’t going to get you.” Ginny scoffed
and smacked his arm. He immediately placed his hand over it and mocked hurt.

“Wow, Ginny, with an arm like that, it’s a *wonder* you haven’t caused me serious
damage.”

Ginny rolled her eyes at him before her eyes widened in surprise.

“What did you just say?” She began to smirk devilishly at him. Draco didn’t like that smirk.
Not-at-*all*.

He swallowed, “Erm…that you hit like a prissy little girl?”

“No…before that. What did you call me?” She was smiling full-on now. Draco didn’t like that
either.

“Weasel?”

“No.”

“Flame-head?”

“I think not. I believe,” Ginny sat on her knees and practically bounced with glee, “that you
just called me *Ginny.*”

Draco’s face paled.

*Great, Malfoy.* *Look what you’ve gone and done now. Now she’s going to become even*
more *insufferable, you idiot!*

”So what if I did? That is your name, isn’t it?” He spat, trying to cover his embarrassment with
another glare in her direction. When it barely seemed to faze her look of joy, he growled.

“What d’you follow me up here for, anyway? Haven’t you grown tired of stalking me by now?”

Ginny shrugged, “Maybe you were right. You’re just too—how did you put it earlier?—oh, yes, too
*excellent* to look at.” She smiled smugly at his look of shock.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be so modest now! What with that perfectly combed hair and winning
personality? I must say,” She grinned playfully, “The way you do that thing with your nose whenever
you sneer or insult me, that’s just plain *sexy*.” She tapped his nose with her index finger
and let it trail down his cheek and outline his jawbone.

Draco merely stared at her, his face a mask of horror and wonder. Ginny couldn’t help but let
herself burst with laughter.

*He’s just too bloody* easy*!*

Draco’s face returned to its normal pigment and he glared at the girl who never seemed to cease
giggling like a school girl at him.

Ginny hiccupped suddenly, which only sent her off giggling more. Draco screwed up his face at
her.

“You’re not funny.”

Ginny snorted, “*You’re not funny*,” She mocked him. “Oh, but *you* are *quite*
funny, Draco.”

“I told you before. Malfoys aren’t *funny*.”

Ginny giggled more, *“Malfoys aren’t* funny*.”*

”Would you stop blathering on?!”

*“Would you stop blathering on?!”* *giggles*

“I mean it, Weasley!”
*“I mean it, Weasley!”*

“If you don’t stop, I’ll hex you into next week.”

*“If you don’t stop, I’ll hex you into next week!”*

By then, Ginny was finding it hard to breathe. Draco snarled even worse than ever. And suddenly,
he was on top of her, knocking her off her balance and landing them both on the dusty floor. With a
growl he began digging his hands into her sides, eliciting howls of laughter from her mouth.
Ginny’s eyes were squeezing out big, round tears of mirth and her breath was short and hard to come
by.

“St-st-stop it, D-Dr-Dr-Draco!” She laughed louder than ever, but Draco didn’t stop. He began
tickling her everywhere he could reach—her arms, sides, stomach, and neck all fell victim to his
wriggling hands.

“How do *you* like it, Weasley? Think I’m funny, do you? Is *this* funny?” He didn’t
even flinch at the smile that had spread across his face. He was actually enjoying himself, but he
didn’t give himself time to admit it.

“Ack! Draco! I—can’t—*breathe*!” Ginny was trying desperately to claw his hands away; her
gleeful laughter was contagious, and Draco found himself reluctantly joining her. It felt as if for
the first time in months, he’d actually been…*happy*.

Finally, Draco gave in and stopped his torturous actions. He loomed over Ginny then, watching
her fight to draw in huge gulps of air and calm her giggles until they subsided into occasional
chuckles. Her auburn locks were strewn about her in a halo of curls and tangles. Her pink cheeks
glowed in the dim lighting and her eyes were glassy with mirth. She was breathing deeply and evenly
then, and Draco watched the rise and fall of her chest as she did so while trying to catch his own
breath.

He found himself drawn towards her…this strange girl with her incessant laughter and elusive
comments…this Weasley who looked so innocent bathed in moonlight and smiling freely…this person he
found himself wanting to lean towards, to share in whatever made her seem to glow from the
inside…

What was this girl *doing* to him? He instantly shook himself, nearly laughing at the
insanity of his thoughts.

*Nutters, Draco. You’ve gone completely nutters.*

Ginny sat up slowly, feeling spent and achy from so much laughing, but at the same time she
wondered if she’d ever felt so lively.

“Draco?” She uttered cautiously, noting the glazed over expression on his face. His eyes
suddenly seemed to snap out of whatever trance they’d fallen into and he stared at her.

“I’ve—I’ve never done that before,” He stated bluntly. Ginny smiled softly at him, and he felt
something somewhere inside of him jerk with relief.

“Well, I must say. You catch on rather well, Mr. Malfoy.” She smiled wider then and laughed
again. Draco found himself smiling back and he didn’t even try to stop it.

And that was exactly why he found himself cowering back into his corner, seeking refuge in the
darkness once again, shocked and afraid of what he’d done and how he’d acted.

Ginny’s thoughtful hazel eyes watched him quizzically.

“What’s the matter, Draco?” She started to come near him. Her heart fell when he threw a hurtful
scowl at her.

“What’d you come up here for anyways, Weasel? Trying to trick me into acting like a fool, are
you?” His eyes iced over.

Ginny felt like screaming. *Why you insufferable prat! Are you really this idiotic all the
time?*

It was when he glared even harder at her that she realized what she’d thought had actually came
out of her mouth.

“Perhaps the Weasley epidemic *is* contagious?” He countered. “Well, what *did* you
come up here for? Trying to escape mummy and daddy’s big awful row, were you?” He spat. Ginny’s
brow furrowed once again.

“How d’you know about that?” She inquired.

“Oh, come on, Weasley. With that ruddy mouth on her, your mum probably could probably wake up
the dead.”

Ginny shrugged. “Oh well. They’ll be cooing over each other all over again soon enough.”

Draco’s eyes were unconvinced. “What for? They’d be better to take up separate living quarters
if you asked me. Every time I’ve had the misfortune of being *dis*graced with their presence,
she’s always been nagging at him. I’d walk out if I were him.” He surmised this all with a
philosophical air about him.

Ginny’s eyes softened considerably. Was that really how he pictured things? She was instantly
reminded of her mission and took up a seat next to him.

“Draco…you don’t just leave if you get in an argument with someone. You,” she searched for the
proper words, “work things out, you compromise…discuss, you know?” She searched his eyes for
understanding.

Draco snorted. “Sure. In a perfect world, perhaps. Why would they go through all that trouble
anyway? It’d be easier to find someone different who didn’t antagonize them all the time.”

Ginny shook her head. “Because they *love* each other, Draco! They wouldn’t sacrifice that
for some silly argument over nothing! That’s what people in love *do*. They fight and
squabble, sure, but they *never* just give up on each other.”

Draco shrugged offhandedly, “Whatever.”

Ginny, realizing it was going to take more than that to convince him, bent over on her knees and
pointed out of the window overlooking the back yard.

“Look for yourself.”

Draco curiously followed her gaze, looking down upon the chattering dinner party outside. Fred
and George were talking animatedly with their hands, and the entire table roared with laughter at
their antics. At the head of the table was Mr. Weasley, his hand coiled around his wife’s warmly.
Mrs. Weasley looked at her husband with laughter in her eyes and they exchanged a secret smile
between spouses, all traces of their earlier argument gone from both of their faces to make room
for peace once again.

Draco felt like vomiting.

“How touching, Weasley,” He spat, tearing his eyes away from the picture of affection assaulting
them just like it had before in that old newspaper clipping of the two of them.

Ginny sighed. “You’re never going to understand are you? That there are things more important
than pride in this world?”

Draco threw her an ornery glance. “We’ve been through this, Weasley. Malfoy’s live for their
pride and work all their lives to protect it. We never apologize.”

Ginny gave him another pitying glance, as if he were missing out on something. Malfoy was
growing very annoyed with her doing that.

Finally after a few moments of silent staring, Ginny tore her gaze away from his and rose.

“Come on. I’m hungry and before long Ron will have taken it upon himself to polish off our
share.” She’d obviously given up for the moment.

Draco watched her slouch over to the ladder and mulled over what she’d just said. Was there
really something more important than a wizard’s pride?

*Of course not, idiot. Don’t let this sodding girl get to you so easily.*

Shaking his head violently, Draco silently followed Ginny down the ladder and down the stairs.
Her silence hung heavy in the air around him, a vast difference from the previous day’s activities.
He wondered then, watching her hair bounce jauntily behind her as she took each step cautiously,
why he seemed to be missing the sound of her laughter…why he felt that he would be severely
disappointed if she didn’t turn around soon and brighten the mood around him with the light of her
smile…why, why, why?

When they’d finally made it down to the backyard, Draco wasn’t feeling up to being bombarded by
the Weasley clan and their ridiculous knack for making ungodly amounts of noise. Throughout the
meal, he stole glances at Ginny whenever she wasn’t looking, trying to catch every giggle or
twinkle of her eye as she spoke animatedly with Granger. His stomach contracted suddenly as he
realized that he was stealing something that wasn’t meant for him. Something his last name had
banned from his life.

Draco turned his eyes back to his food, ignoring his mother’s utterances about whatever nonsense
she was speaking about, and wondered silently if perhaps Ginny Weasley had taught him something
that day, after all.

----------------------------------------------------------

nope, you can’t hurry love, oh you’ve just got to wait, Adrial says love don’t come easy, It’s a
game of give and take…la la la la…

lol. I LOVE that song! It’s been stuck in my head the entire time while I was writing this. and
I have to admit…I hadn’t planned on even starting to write this until a week or so b/c I have all
this summer homework to do for AP Gov/Economics and French and I really have been neglecting it
lately…o well! this is far more interesting, don’t you think? heh heh heh…it’s getting there,
people! be patient. I’ve still got a LOT in mind for our Draco. And I’ve got a plot all written out
for the rest of the fic. It’s going to be fairly long, I suppose, and they *will* end up at
Hogwarts. :-D

I would feel far less like I should be feeling guilty for ignoring my work if you’d be so kind
as to drop me a review or two! I’d love to hear from you all.

Note: please read the new A/N of chapter 1. I’ve decided to explain something a bit further.

thanx 2 all my reviewers! I try to reply to as many as I can, but if I don’t, please know that
it really means a lot to me!

ciao!

PS: If you want to see what happens when you get sidetracked trying to write a chapter in a
story, ready my one-shot “Bugger off, Ron!” ;-)



7. Pages of Draco
-----------------

“To be or not to be a Weasley”

By: Adrial

Chapter 7: Pages of Draco

----------------------------------------------------------------

‘Time goes on, like a soldier in the rain
Now you've been around the world and now you're goin' back again
Tell yourself that there's somethin' more to gain
When you step into the fire you can never be the same

I see you movin'—you can't go home and you don't know why
You look for somethin'—you feel that somethin'
Will pull ya through, now wrong or right

I put a spell on you
I watch you walk, you won't get far
I put a spell on you

It keeps you movin'

What will you do when your time is right
You take that somethin'

I'll give ya somethin'
Don'tcha know?

I think you might

I put a spell on you’



‘I Put a Spell on You’—Billy Squier

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mum! Mum! Come look! QUICK!!” Ginny squealed, ignoring Harry as he clamped his hands over his
ears to drown out a few decibels. Crookshanks’ cinnamon eyes widened to the size of tea cups as
Ginny swooped over him and had him spinning around in circles before he could even think about
scurrying away, a look of utter glee plastered upon her face.

Hermione laughed at the younger girl’s antics, though she did step in to save Mrs. Weasley’s
spotless kitchen floor from being redecorated with Crookshanks’ breakfast by gently removing him
from Ginny’s clutches.

Molly Weasley came bounding into the kitchen then, panting slightly and wiping a soiled hand
over her brow. She’d been tending to the flowerbeds in the yard when she’d heard Ginny screaming
for her as if she’d been set on fire.

“What? What’ve they done? FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY, YOU GET IN HERE THIS INSTANT!” She bellowed,
flashing her eyes to the ceiling as if she knew exactly where Fred and George would be hiding.

“Mum! It’s not—“

“I’VE TOLD YOU TWO NEANDERTHALS NOT *ONE* MORE JOKE UNDER THIS ROOF UNLESS YOU WANT TO BE
BOOTED OUT OF HERE AS WELL!!”

Ginny grabbed her mother’s shaking arms to get her attention, “Mum! It’s not Fred and—“

“That’s it! I’ve had it! They can live over that shop of theirs for all I care. They’ll not be
wreaking anymore havoc on *this* household, not *one more* moment!” Molly’s face was red
and had swollen to the size of a balloon in her rage as she heatedly shook a fist in the air.

Harry and Hermione were talking now, trying to get Mrs. Weasley to calm down. However, before
any sense could be spoken, Fred’s head popped into the room, followed closely by its
counterpart.

“Oy! What’s going on? George!” He glared accusingly at his twin, “I told you not to test the
Blazing Pixie Wings on humans yet! You saw what happened to the toad!” He promptly thwacked his
twin’s head with his hand.

George turned scarlet and returned the favor. “What’re you blathering on about? I didn’t test
them on anyone! It was *you* who decided to be cheeky and stick a handful of Shrinking Shoes
in that old hag’s pumpkin juice last week! We nearly got ourselves an interview with the entire
Wizengamot!”

Fred punched George in the chest, “But it’s alright if you turned that old witch’s hair blue the
day before?!”

They promptly engaged themselves in a brotherly wrestling match.

“YOU’VE GOT THREE SECONDS TO PACK YOUR THINGS—“

“WHAT?!” Fred and George both loosened their neck-holds on each other to gawk at their mother
with frantic glows in their eyes.

“Mum! Would you just *listen to me*?!” Ginny waved her hands into front of her mother’s
face, but Molly merely stepped around her to get closer in the twin’s faces.

“You heard me! *Three seconds!* I’ve had it with your nonsense!”

“Mum! What are you going on about? We haven’t done anything in weeks!”
“Oy! Fred’s right! We even fixed the roof—“

“—and the stairs!”

Ginny was bouncing on the balls of her feet now. “Mum! Look at this!”

“Not one more word! You’ve tried my nerves long enough!”

“Mrs. Weasley! Ginny’s trying to show—“

“Harry, don’t get into this!”
“I’m trying to *help*, Gin!”

“Lot of fat good that’s doing!” She spat back at him.

Ginny growled loudly. *This just bloody figures!* The *one* time she deserved to have
a bit of attention on her for a moment and the entire bloody household was ignoring her! She glared
crossly at her bickering brothers and scarlet-faced mother before storming out of the room in a
furious huff.

On her way, she flung a glittering gold badge on to the kitchen floor. It spun around in a
gilded scarlet blur, clattering against the tile loudly and drawing the attention of pair of deep
brown eyes—eyes that immediately softened into silent pools of understanding.

Draco Malfoy panted deeply, struggling as currents of wind fought to knock him backwards off of
his newly arrived Firebolt II. The blanket of fast approaching emerald earth beneath him suddenly
rocked sideways to reveal the edge of a thickly wooded forest as he came skillfully out of his
dive.

Smirking to himself, he imagined he’d just stolen the snitch right from underneath Potter’s
nose; he rose higher into the air, filled with the thrill of his imaginary victory. He couldn’t
wait until the season started. Just the thought of that sodding St. Harry Potter’s face, shadowed
with disbelief at having been knocked off of his Gryffindor pedestal by none other than a
slytherin—by none other than himself, *Draco Malfoy—*made him sneer with triumph.

Just as Draco completed a complicated figure eight over the tree tops, a blur of red caught his
attention out of the corner of his eye. Squinting, he could just barely make out a small body that
appeared to be running as if the bats of hell where on its tail across the back yard of the Burrow.
The curtain of red hair gave away its identity and Draco felt the hands of curiosity tug at his
broom stick, bringing him closer to the ground and to Ginny rapidly.

Ginny stomped through her backyard, glaring at the ground as another round of hapless greenery
became victim to the soles of her shoes.

A rush of air suddenly tousled hair and robes, and she gasped. Quickly swatting away the auburn
curls blocking her vision, she was finally able to see Draco hovering a few feet in front of her,
an unreadable expression on his pale face.

Draco didn’t fail to notice as sunlight reflected off of shiny pools in her eyes, then glittered
onto her cheeks in thin, gilded rivers.

“Are—are you *crying*, Weasel?” He furrowed his brows at the girl. He’d never expected
this. Not from her. Though he knew hardly anything about the girl, he didn’t take her for one of
those whimpering nonsense girls who cried over a hair potion gone awry or blind sighted boys who
wouldn’t give them the time of day. Something horrible had to have happened to bring her to
this.

Ginny glared at him and curtly spat, “NO.”

Malfoy sneered back, though silently grateful that she was showing him a glimpse of the Ginny
he’d been formerly introduced to.

“Well then, I suppose you wouldn’t happen to have been hit with a weeping jinx?”

Ginny shook her head, feeling angered at being caught in such a vulnerable position. No one as
long as she could remember had ever seen her cry before. She lashed the back of her hand across her
face and stormed past him, growing furious all over again.

“Where do you think you’re going, Weasel?” Draco glided over to her, hovering along as she tried
to force her feet to move faster than his broom, though knowing it was impossible.

“What do you care, Malfoy?” She turned to give him a healthy glare, noting the flash in his
eyes.

“Back to a last name only basis, are we?” He smirked.

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. “Back to being an obnoxious prat, are we? Oh, wait, I
seemed to have forgotten. You never *stopped*.” She lifted a hand to shove him off of his
broom, but he caught it in his own, and in one fluid movement she was straddling his broom in front
of him, a look of shock evident upon her tear-stained face.

“Violent little thing, aren’t you?” He sneered, tightening his grip on her wrist until blood had
to fight to circulate to her fingers.

“Let me go, Malfoy!” She struggled against him.

“Not until I’ve taught you a lesson…” His voice trailed off and Ginny’s heart dropped at the
glint of amusement flickering in his eyes.

“Don’t you dar—MALFOOOOYY!!” She squealed as they shot off of the ground like a bolt of
lightening. She’d never dreamed of flying so fast before. The world was a blur around her as the
wind lashed at her clothing and hair with a vengeance, forcing her to bury her head in Draco’s
robes to prevent her face from whip-lash.

After a few moments, Draco shifted underneath her, yelling her ear so she could hear him over
the deafening roar of rushing air.

“It’s alright! Have a look!” He nudged his shoulder a little so her head would roll over to the
side. When she was able to force her tightly shut eyes to open, Ginny’s mouth flew open in silent
awe. He’d flown them over the reservoir, and she marveled at the glittering ripples dancing before
her. A flock of geese flapped gracefully below them, and Ginny craned her head to watch them glide
skillfully over the water’s surface, darting their heads beneath occasionally and coming out with a
mouthful of breakfast.

“Wow…”

She felt a sudden jolt as Draco steered them higher into the clouds, forcing her to clutch his
chest once again or slip off of the broom.

“Hold on to me!”

Ginny obliged, not willing to let the wave of embarrassment that washed over her stop her from
wrapping her arms around his waist as tightly as she could.

The broom seemed to move with Draco’s mind instead of his body, and Ginny was content to feel
the moist morning clouds dampen her cheeks as they zoomed higher. The familiar sense of security
flooded through her with the thrill of flight, but somewhere along the lines, a deeper feeling
aroused inside of her as she leaned against Draco’s chest.

Before she had time to dwell on any such feelings, however, Draco pointed the broom towards the
ground, though keeping the angle of depression slightly greater so as not to scare the wits out of
his companion and cause him to lose control of the broom.

A few seconds later, they landed softly on a grassy knoll in the middle of a spacious pasture
Ginny had never seen before. A few cows were specks in the distant, bending over the thick grass to
eat.

Ginny shivered; her jeans and shirt were both damp from being submerged within the clouds for so
long, and she loosened her arms on Draco’s waist to wrap them around herself.

Draco lifted himself off of his broom and offered her his cloak. Ginny silently took the
proffered warmth and wrapped it around her shoulders.

*Smells like…flying…* She silently observed as she dismounted the broom with the aid of
Draco’s hand and took up a seat next to him on the ground. The Firebolt was humming next to its
owner dutifully, and Draco ran a slender hand over its handle absently.

Ginny’s hair was a little wet and stuck to her face defiantly as she tried to swat it away.
Giving up, she let it stick to her neck in curls and focused on the countryside around her.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Draco leaned back on the palms of his hands, staring off
into space as Ginny sat wrapped up in his cloak, feeling as if this was exactly the place she
wanted to be for once.

“Why did you bring me here?” She chose to break the silence when she could take it no longer,
though she silently feared that if Draco began talking, it would ruin the tranquility that had
surfaced upon them.

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. “Just thought you could use a quick exit. Why? Would you have
rather been whisked off to Rome or something?” He smirked, “Like in some fairy tale?”

Ginny smiled reluctantly and rolled her eyes, “No…I just…well, thank you. I really needed to get
away from that place.” She smiled at him warmly, and Draco shifted uncomfortably.

“Don’t mention it, Weasel. I thought you’d gotten sick of seeing those cows you like to call
brothers. Thought I’d show you the real thing for a change.” He gestured towards a family of mooing
animals grazing several kilometers in front of them.

Ginny playfully hit him across his chest, though she didn’t choose to retort. A grin slid across
her face and she decided to share with him what she’d tried so desperately to share with her mother
before.

“I got a letter this morning…” She began. Draco shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“So? What’d it say? Did your family finally win the lottery or something?”

Ginny ignored his comment. “I’ve been made a prefect.”

Draco let it sink in for a moment before nodding briefly, “Excellent. Another do-gooder
Gryffindor to save the corridors of Hogwarts from any wicked little witches and wizards.”

Ginny’s smile faded. “You’re a prefect, too!” And as the thought settled upon her mind, she was
suddenly bombarded by a torrential wave of memories of the previous year as they flooded back to
her. Memories of a sneering Draco in Umbridge’s office, memories of his dark face glaring at her
friends and herself as he and his followers held them captive. She suddenly felt as if she were the
biggest idiot in the world.

Draco scoffed, ignoring her sudden silence, “How soon do you think it’ll take before that old
bag Dumbledore decides that any member of the ‘Inquisitorial Staff’ doesn’t deserve that title?” He
snorted but didn’t meet her gaze.

“You were awful, you know,” Ginny said softly.

“What else is new?”

“You helped that woman torture everyone! You were one of her…her *minions*—“

“Shut it, Weasel!” He suddenly spat, nearly knocking her over with the force of his glare. Ginny
swallowed, unnerved at his outburst.

“You don’t know a damned thing about me,” He spat, tearing enraged gray eyes from her own
fearful ones.

“Well, what would you have called it then? You went around terrorizing students as if you were
her right-hand man or something!” Ginny retorted, though with less fervor.

Draco whipped around again, fire emblazoned in his gaze.

“I said SHUT UP!” He roared in her face. Ginny jumped in shock, her hazel eyes locked with his
own, trying to read into them, to see past the raging anger…

“It hurts you…doesn’t it, Draco?” She found herself saying, unsure of where she’d dredged up the
courage to do so.

Draco’s face was inches from hers, smoldering, but he slowly backed off, facing the field once
again.

“If you’re going to start getting all philosophical, Weasel, you can take your bloody nonsense
and shove it up your arse for all I care.”

Ginny ignored him. “It hurts that your father is one of the Dark Lord’s henchmen, doesn’t
it?”

Draco’s gaze remained fixated on some point in the distance, but the malicious cold in his voice
betrayed his thoughtful demeanor.

”You know *nothing* about me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ginny glared at his profile, “What if I said that I could read you like a book?”

Draco turned to look at her, traces of his earlier rage crackling back to life, “Right. Page
one: Poor little Draco Malfoy—he’s so misunderstood!” His scornful tone kindled the growing fire in
his eyes.

Ginny hastily spat back, “Page One: Spoiled little rich boy—desperately ashamed of his
father!”

“Weasley…” Draco began warningly.

Ginny stood up furiously, “Page two: Draco Malfoy—afraid of becoming exactly what his father
wants him to be!”

Draco was standing now, as well. “If you don’t shut that bloody mouth of—“

“Page three!” Ginny continued, “Evil little slytherin biding his time until he gets his own
pretty little tattoo! Page four! Draco Malfoy is a cowardly git who is too afraid to stand up for
what he thinks is right because he’s too bloody scared of disappointing Daddy!”

Draco lunged at her, pinning her to the ground with his entire body, a vicious snarl smeared
across his face.

“Would you like me to turn to page *five*, Malfoy?” Ginny stared fixedly into his gaze, not
wavering in her demeanor for a moment.

Their staring contest went on for several tension-thick moments. Ginny’s steel-edged glare
butted heads with Draco’s hate-laced irises until she could take it no longer…until she could no
longer bear to watch his eyes fight back tears of silent fury.

“Draco…” She finally said, feeling her arms numbing beneath his vise-like grip. He glared more
heatedly at her, his entire face shaking with rage, but eventually his cold fingertips were gone
from her forearms, and she sat up, rubbing them gingerly.

Ginny looked at him cautiously, her stomach tied in knots. Her throat was dry and her shoulders
were throbbing, but she refused to let him know that. When he shot up suddenly and began to descend
the hill with his hands clenched into fists, Ginny quickly scrambled to her feet.

“Draco!” She called after him, but he didn’t turn around. She flung off the heavy cloak and
clumsily ran after him while trying to juggle it in her hands, slipping on the morning dew that
sparkled on the grass beneath her feet.

“Draco!” She sped up as his long strides quickened. Finally, she was able to lay a hand on his
shoulder, effectively stopping him so he could shove it away. He turned on her, a look of evident
hate piercing his eyes. Ginny felt her stomach drop.

“I-I’m sorry, Draco.” Her voice barely resembled a whisper. When he didn’t respond or move,
Ginny swallowed over the lump in her throat, “I shouldn’t have said those things. You were
right…I-I don’t know you.”

She stared at the toes of her shoes, suddenly feeling about the size of a small mouse.

“No. *You-don’t-know-me*.” He spat each word as if trying to engrave it into her skull with
a chisel.

Ginny nodded silently, gathering her courage to meet his gaze. “But…I want to.” She found
herself muttering, wondering if she was crazy for even speaking further.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you really this thick all the time, Weasel?” He shook his
head in disbelief, “If you’ve forgotten, my father is a death eater and just in case it might have
slipped your bloody mind, I am a Slytherin and you are *Weasley* *Gryffindor*.”

Ginny shifted uncomfortably in front of him. “I…I don’t care about all that.”

Draco’s piercing gray eyes suddenly lost a bit of their edge. “What are you saying, Weasley?
That you bloody care about *me*?” He laughed bitterly. “Save it for St. Potter and his
groupies. I don’t need your pity.”

Ginny’s eyes sparked into annoyance. “I’m not saying that! All I’m trying to do is…is….” She
trailed off, not wanting him to know that she’d been following him around trying to make friends
like some naïve pre-school child who didn’t know any better. He’d laugh right in her face.

“I just…I know what it’s like to feel as if no one in the world could give a damn about what
you’ve got to say,” She finally said, watching nameless emotions flicker through Draco’s gaze.

He scoffed, “Right. With all that bloody nonsense you were going on about the other day? About
faithful friends and sodding *family morals*? How could you possibly have any idea—“

“Would you stop being such a-a PRAT?!” She screamed in his face, frustration evident in her
eyes. “I’m just trying to *listen* to you! To understand!”

“You’ll never understand!”
“Because you’re too afraid that I just might!”
“Why are you being so bloody difficult, Weasel?!”
“Why are you ignoring the fact that I am trying to be your friend?!”

Draco rolled his eyes skyward and threw his hands in the air. “I give up, then! Have it your own
damn way, Weasel!” He stared at her intensely for a moment. “But the minute you decide to chicken
out and run, you can’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

Ginny’s eyes sparkled suddenly as if she’d won some silent victory with is words, and she shoved
the cloak she’d been holding in her hands into his chest roughly enough to make him stumble a
little.

“It’s just your luck, Draco Malfoy. I do so *love* a challenge.” She smiled coyly and
decided it would be pushing her luck to laugh at the utter surprise written across his face. With a
flip of her hair, she turned around and began walking back to the hovering Firebolt.

“Shall we then?”

Draco took a moment to realize what had just occurred before shaking his head, ignoring the
sudden impulse to hit himself.

*Excellent job, Malfoy. Try getting rid of her now*.

“Goodness, Draco—are you going to stand there and gawk all day or are you going to take me home?
I’m starting to get hungry.” Ginny tapped her foot impatiently.

Draco shook himself slightly and stalked over to her. Before he swung his leg over the Firebolt,
he flung his cloak back in her face.

After they’d mounted the broom, Ginny smiled to herself against Draco’s back. It was undoubtedly
the rockiest ride she’d ever had on a broom, compliments of Draco’s muddled mind and obvious
frustrations, but all Ginny did was hold on tighter, squealing at every jolt and loop they took,
realizing that as long as she continued to force her way into Draco Malfoy’s life, there’d be
plenty more to come.

------------------------------------------------


“Ow! That’s my *foot*, Ron!”

“Well, you’re stepping on *my* foot, Hermione!”

“Ssssh! Would you shut your bloody mouth?! I hear her!”

“Get ready…George stop fidgeting!”

“I’m not fidgeting, Mum!”

“*Fred*, stop fidgeting!”

“Well I *would* if Harry would kindly stop trying to feel me up!“

“I am not!”

“Well then take your bloody hand off my ar—”

“Quiet! She’s about to come in!”

Ginny dismounted Draco’s Firebolt carefully, feeling slightly dizzy from their bumpy ride home,
but couldn’t help giggling excitedly.

“That was excellent!” She handed him back his cloak. “I mean, you did nearly kill us both when
you tried to dive into that flock of geese,” She took a moment to glare at him, and he merely
shrugged, smirking.

“I was just making sure you hadn’t fallen asleep on me. Wouldn’t want your disgusting drool all
over my cloak.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, leading the way back to the house. All of the windows were dark, and
Ginny suddenly wished she hadn’t come back at all.

“What’s the matter? Not feeling so at-home?” Draco sneered at her. She glared at him and pushed
open the back door, revealing the dark kitchen.

“Where is everyone?” She muttered silently to herself.

She and Draco stepped into the living room; it was dark as well, and Ginny’s brow furrowed.

“This isn’t like—“

**“SURPRISE!!!!”**

“ACK!” Ginny squealed, grabbing onto Draco’s arm in her shock. Hundreds of tiny golden lights
suddenly appeared, revealing her smiling family. The lights suddenly shifted, moving on their own
accord higher until they formed the words CONGRATULATIONS GINNY!

“Oh my word…” She uttered, shocked senseless. Immediately, people began rushing towards her,
congratulating her and clapping her on the back. Even Pig flitted over to buzz around her head
gleefully.

“This is so…so…” Ginny giggled giddily, placing a hand over her mouth. Words wouldn’t come.

“Oy! Gin’s acthually speefless! Somebody call thuh prwess!” Ron bellowed, having already begun
stuffing his face with the two tier white-iced cake sitting in a corner on a gold and scarlet
decorated table.

“We’re so proud of you, Ginny! Our *fifth* prefect!” Molly Weasley enveloped her daughter
in her arms, squeezing until Ginny’s head felt as if it would pop off. When she’d been released,
Arthur ruffled the hair on his only daughter’s head and smiled warmly at her, “Well done, dear!” He
kissed her lightly on her forehead.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Ginny laughed as one of the tiny lights began zooming affectionately around her.

“Fairies!” She exclaimed, taking in the golden beauty before her. “But mum…they’re so hard to
come by and so expen—“

“Oy, Gin! Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating?” Bill walked forward, gathering her in a
brotherly hug.

Ginny squealed, “Oh! This is so wonderful!” She returned every hug she was given and the
overfilling jug of sparkling pumpkin juice George handed to her, raising his own in cheer.

Ginny tipped her glass to his, knowing that deep down he was regretting losing another sibling
to the clutches of good-willed authority.

“We’re gonna miss you, kid. You had great potential,” George downed his glass and grinned
cheekily at her. “If you ever decide that prefect-hood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, there’ll be
a spot at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes open just for you.” He winked at her and went off to join Ron
before he devoured everything.

Ginny could barely suppress the joy she felt at that moment. It was perfect. After Hermione had
run up to congratulate her with Harry in tow, she turned around suddenly, wondering where Draco had
disappeared to.

“Erm…Mum, I’m just going to dash to the loo for a moment. Be right back!” She kissed her
mother’s cheek quickly and bounded out of the room and up the stairs. In the hallway where he
parent’s bedroom was situated, she passed by a dark figure and backtracked quickly after she
realized who it was.

“Draco! What are you doing up here? Come downstairs.” Ginny smiled at him warmly, tugging on his
sleeve.

He gently tugged back, remaining where he was. “I’d rather not ruin all the fun, Weasley.”

“Don’t be silly! It’s my party and I’m inviting you!” She tried to grab his sleeve again, but he
yanked it back more forcefully.

“I said *no*, Weasley,” He stated firmly.

Ginny was about to lash back at him and physically drag him downstairs if she had to, but
something caught her off guard suddenly. A whimpering sound echoed down the hall.

“Is that…” She furrowed her brow, “Is someone crying?”

Draco immediately shoved her back towards the stairs, “No. Now go back to your lovely party and
leave me alone.”

Ginny dug her feet into the carpet and shoved back. “What’s the matter with you? Who’s that
crying, Draco?” She pushed her hands against his chest.

They struggled a bit more until Ginny finally stomped down hard on his foot and he was forced to
release her. She took her chance and bounded down to the end of the hallway. Sniffling could be
heard just behind her parent’s bedroom door. It was cracked slightly, and Ginny calmed her
breathing, leaning lower to be able to see through the slit.

Narcissa Malfoy was on her knees at the foot of the canopied bed, hands clasped in front of her
as her body shook with sobs. Her usually glossy and meticulously styled hair was matted to her back
in tangled wisps of platinum, and Ginny’s breath caught in her throat.

Suddenly, she felt herself being thrown aside and dragged down the hallway. Malfoy let go of her
arm once they’d reached the stairs again and leaned close enough to feel her small nose brush
against his.

“There. Are you happy now, Weasel?” He spat in whisper, silently praying his mother hadn’t heard
them.

Ginny’s eyes widened, and she looked at him helplessly. “I-I’m sorry…I didn’t know.”

“Draco?” A meek voice filled the hallway. Draco whipped around after giving Ginny another harsh
glare.

“Mother, go back to sleep.” She heard him mutter to the shaking Narcissa. He placed his hands
gently on her shoulders, trying to steer her back into her room. She caught sight of Ginny and
immediately her eyes hardened to steel.

“You!” She cried, “You took him! You and…and that BOY!” She struggled against her son’s arms,
“You wretch! You filth! You and your family won’t live to see the day that my husband returns! Let
me *go*, Draco!” She struggled weakly against her son’s much more powerful arms.

“No, Mother! Go back in there!” He shoved her as gently and forcefully as he could back into her
room. She left Ginny with another piercing, hateful glare before willingly being led back into the
room.

Draco emerged a few seconds later, shutting the door softly behind himself.

Slight tremors were humming through Ginny’s body as she shakily grabbed onto the banister for
support. Tears were brimming in her eyes, and she stared at Draco, waiting for him to explain, to
sneer, to do anything. But he only leaned his back against the wall next to her, closing his eyes
silently.

Ginny found herself walking towards him, placing her hand gently around his own.

“Draco…” She started.

He turned to her, unreadable expressions in his eyes. “Sorry if I failed to introduce you to my
mother properly, Weasley. She’s not exactly feeling very cordial at the moment. You must forgive
me.”

Ginny shook her head silently, pained to no end by the sheer hate she’d witnessed with one
glance in Narcissa Malfoy’s cold eyes.

“Go back to your family, Ginny.” Draco muttered in half-whisper.

“I want to stay with you.” Ginny answered. Draco stared at her, deeply surprised by her
sincerity.

“You don’t belong here. Leave.”

Ginny took Draco’s hand more firmly in her own. “You seem to have forgotten our conversation
earlier, Draco. I’m not letting you push me away so easily. I want to be your…” She tightened her
grip on his hand when he tried to loosen it, “Your friend.”

Draco stared at her deeply, willing her to turn her back on her word and leave when he refused
to respond, but she didn’t. She stayed there, holding his hand, eyes wide and determined.

“She hates you.” He suddenly said.

“I don’t blame her. She was right…we did get Lucius sent to Azkaban.” Ginny responded.

Draco stared at the floor, “Today’s their anniversary…he’s supposed to be home, showering her
with jewels and bouquets of flowers, but…” He nodded towards the end of the hall, “Guess he
won’t.”

Ginny swallowed. “You…you miss him?” She tried to force herself to think of Lucius Malfoy
smiling lovingly at his wife and son, home after a hard day of embezzling in the Ministry of Magic
and shining the Dark Lord’s shoes. She muffled her scoff, shaken from her reverie when Draco spoke
suddenly.

“He’ll be out soon enough.” He sounded so convinced of his statement himself that Ginny felt a
drop of fear settle in her stomach. “All of the death eaters will be.”

“I wish things were different…”

“Well they can’t be, can they? “ Draco snapped at her, and she bit her lip.

“They will be. I know they will. One day…” She trailed off, subconsciously running her thumb
over Draco’s knuckles.

“Please, Weasley. Your optimism repulses me.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Draco! If you’re going to insist upon insulting
me every time you speak to me, you could at least say my *name*.”

Draco smirked. “What? And ruin all the fun?”

“You, Draco Malfoy, have a very different idea of fun than I do.”

“So it seems…*Weasel*.”

“You’re impossible, did you know that?” Ginny laughed slightly, leaning beside him, afraid to
uncoil her fingers from around his for fear of him realizing that she was, in fact, holding his
hand in the first place. She wondered if he wasn’t saying anything about it because it felt so…so
natural. At least for her it did. She swallowed, wondering if friends were supposed to hold hands
in darkened corridors.

“I did warn you.” He shrugged, and in doing so glanced down at their intertwined hands
curiously.

“Are you trying to warm up to me, Weasley?” He smirked mischievously at her, and Ginny’s cheeks
reddened, and she quickly released her hand from around his.

“I-I..no…I mean…--“

“Is that what you’d call *friendly* behavior? What’s next? Are you going to try to snog me
as well?” He laughed outright.

Ginny glared at him. “I believe it was *you* who was doing the snogging the other night,
*Draco*.”

She smiled winsomely at the horror that fell over his face. “Oh, honestly, Draco. Are you going
to get all bashful now?”

Draco swallowed. He’d really hoped she’d forgotten about that…erm…lack of judgment on his part.
“Shut up, Weasley,” was the best he could come up with as he willed away the humility ebbing at his
conscience.

“Well isn’t that how it all started in the first place? You *‘shutting me up’*?” She
laughed, tapping her chin thoughtfully, “I do believe it was quite effective, though I wouldn’t
recommend it to pompous boys trying to prove to world how bloody refined and regal they are.” She
wriggled her eyebrows mischievously at him. “It might ruin their reputation.”

Draco sneered, “Well, you should feel privileged. Do you realize how many girls would have died
to be put in that position?” He sniffed at the air, obviously convinced that he was Merlin’s gift
to all witches and should thus be honored as such.

Ginny’s outburst of laughter knocked him off guard as she took his hand in her own again, toying
with his slender fingers with her own. Draco narrowed his eyes questioningly.

“What are you—“

Ginny grabbed his other hand and had him pinned against the wall before he could finish his
sentence. She had no idea what she was doing, but it seemed as if her body was moving on its own
accord, instructed by her racing heart.

She smiled coyly, letting her hands slide down his arms ever so slowly before ending up at his
shoulders and then his neck, where she commenced to trail shapeless figures across his Adam’s
apple.

“Doing?” She finished for him, licking her lips playfully and taking on a thoughtful expression,
“I don’t know, Draco. What could I *possibly* be thinking?” She laughed lightly, “Me? A poor,
defenseless Weasley, *alone* in a dark hallway with *the* Draco Malfoy?”

Draco gulped. He knew he should be fleeing to the ends of the earth at that moment, but there
was something in her voice that kept him pinned to the wall. Her eyes were bright in the dark
corner they were in, shinning with some inner light that he found himself mesmerized by for some
reason. He caught himself admiring her symmetrical features, the almond shape of her eyes, and the
pout of her lips—

*What’re you just standing there for, idiot?! You’re Draco sodding Malfoy! Sneer at her!
Insult her! Oh, Merlin…where is that damn cloak when I need it?* He swallowed, unsure as to
exactly what spell Ginny Weasley was casting over him, but the minute he found out, he’d have her
booted out of Hogwarts for using magic outside of school. Perhaps he’d get the recipe first;
something that useful could come in handy later…

Ginny leaned closer to his face, her lips parted slightly at his chin; she was daring him with
her gaze to stop her, to push her away, but he didn’t. He stood there. Like an idiot.

Ginny couldn’t have been more pleased. She drew her lips higher, centimeter by centimeter,
before she could practically feel the heat from her his own upon hers.

And suddenly, she drew away, crinkling up her nose with the same sparkle of mischief in her
eyes.

“Wow, Malfoy. Do you think you could gob on a bit more cologne next time? I don’t think the
people in Scotland can quite smell you yet.” She giggled playfully, patting his cheek with her hand
before bouncing off, leaving him pressed against the wall breathing deeply, and trying to string
together a coherent thought other than—*I almost kissed a Weasley. I almost kissed a Weasley. I
almost* liked *the thought of almost kissing a Weasley.*

With a dignified sniff, he shook himself and straightened his shirt, watching her skip away like
she hadn’t just made Draco Malfoy—well, like she hadn’t *unnerved* him.

*That’s right, Draco. Unnerving. That’s what you’ll call it.*

With a shake of his head and one more glance down the hallway at his mother’s room, he ascended
the stairs to his own room to think.

Yes, that girl would definitely be the end of him yet.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Another chapter! I hope you liked it. I’ve been working on it whenever I have free time. The
next one will definitely be out a bit later because I’ve got school in a week and SO MUCH work to
do yet. I hope to hear from you all! Keep me going while I’m trying to get all my work in order.
I’m an awful procrastinator…but oh well! review please and make my day!

Ciao!



8. Daytime Shadows
------------------

“To be or not to be a Weasley”

Chapter 8: Daytime Shadows

By: Adrial

*The world is a lonely place
But I soon found out
That love was the saving grace
I know that once in a thousand years
There will come a time
When joy will replace our fears
And you and I
Will fly away together
Is it just a game
That we're playing now?
Were we born to win, can we lose somehow?
Does it all come down to what we've done before?
Is it truth and love that we're searching for?*

*The truth may be hard to find
But then again love is blind*

*Justin Hayward—‘Is it Just a Game?’*

---------------------------------------------------

A gray whiskered wizard blew his whistle shrilly, calling all aboard the Hogwarts Express for
another year of magical study for the hundred or so bustling wizards and witches of years one
through seven that were scurrying rapidly upon the buzzing platform nine and three quarters,
placing haste kisses upon loved ones’ cheeks before climbing aboard and pressing their faces
against the glass windows for one final goodbye grin and wave.

Ginny Weasley’s red head bobbed up and down amongst the roaring crowd accumulating in the main
corridor of the train, trying futilely to find Hermione’s curly mane or Ron’s lumbering frame. She
even tried to listen for cries of “Oy! Potter! How’s the scar been treatin’ ya?!” or “Harry! Could
I have a picture or two?” but to no avail.

She tucked a disobedient lock of hair behind her ear, sighing as squealing witches huddled in
compartment doors, exchanging animated stories of their summer and exclaiming over new hair colors
or the latest robes. She dragged her trunk behind her, attempting to not run over the hem of
anyone’s robes or assorted body parts in the process.

“Bloody first years…they’re everywhere…” Ginny grumbled as she dodged to miss a tiny, quivering
wizard who was clutching his wand in his hand like a vice, gazing fearfully into the crowd as if
expecting to be attacked by one of the fifty or so rambling bodies that towered over his head at
any moment.

She’d already been invited to join Hailey Atkin’s compartment which she’d been sharing with one
other blonde-haired witch and two cheeky looking wizards. Ginny recognized Seth Paisley’s boyish
face immediately; a wave of scarlet washed over her at the questioning gaze he cast at her. She
noticed him cast a weary glance over her shoulder, as if expecting her brothers to leap onto the
scene and begin flinging dancing hexes in all directions. No doubt he’d been forewarned by his
brother to be on the look out.

She felt the need to roll her eyes as he tried to avert his gaze from hers and refused to answer
with more than a nod at her acknowledgement of his presence. She decided to politely refuse
Hailey’s invite and wearily forced her way back into the rambunctious crowd once again, where she
was jostled to and fro until her hair was a mess and her robes were a sight worse off than they had
been twenty minutes before when her mother had been anxiously removing invisible specks of lint and
dust on the platform as she tearfully wished them all a good and *safe* (she’d glared at them
all as she stressed the word ‘safe’) year.

She was due to meet the other prefects in compartment 56B in ten minutes, but she was at a loss
at how much time had passed since Chris Connolly had passed off that rushed message to her and was
sure that she was more than late by now. Growling, she barged into the first open door she saw,
ignoring the cries of protests as she jerked her trunk along with her and successfully ran over
several toes in the process.

“Sod off!” She called behind her shoulder, annoyed that her brother had abandoned her the very
minute their mum had disapparated from the platform with their father and that she’d have to spend
the entire train ride with someone she probably didn’t even know.

*Just please don’t let it be another sodding first year—*

She paused abruptly in place after she’d stomped into the compartment and slammed the door
behind her only to encounter Draco Malfoy’s smirking face as he was perched regally upon a black,
leather sofa with the silver monogram D.M. on the arms. Pansy Parkinson was sprawled out beside
him, practically in his lap, and Crabbe and Goyle were standing in opposite corners like statues
keeping silent guard over the pair.

Ginny wiped her brow and beamed, a wave of relief washing over her at the sight of a familiar
face.

“Oh, Draco—I’m so glad I found you. When’s that prefect meeting again? Are we late?” She nudged
her trunk into the corner with her foot and searched her robes for her wand, making sure it hadn’t
been lost in all the mayhem. She smiled when she felt the thin object tucked securely in her pocket
and turned expectantly to Draco when he’d failed to answer her.

Pansy’s mouth was set in a distinctly livid expression, her round brown eyes narrowed at Ginny
as if inspecting hippogriff manure on the bottom of her mary-janes. She coiled her arm tightly
around Draco’s with a possessive frown and turned her pudgy face toward his own.

“Draco? What’s this *Weasel* doing in *our* compartment? Surely you can’t have invited
it?” She whispered loud enough for Ginny to hear, casting scathing glares in her direction with
every other word.

Draco’s eyes hadn’t left Ginny’s since she’d turn to face him, and the blurry clouds swirling
within their gray depths hardened to ice as Pansy nudged herself closer against him. Ginny raised
her eyebrows, placing her hands upon her hips at Pansy’s blunt rudeness.

She threw Draco another questioning gaze. He stiffened considerably at the familiar sparks
flashing in her eyes, warning him that if he didn’t speak up soon, she’d be sending Pansy home via
Air Weasley.

Crabbe and Goyle cleared their throats roughly and stepped in front of Pansy and Draco,
successfully shielding them from her view.

“Oh, please, you great big oafs. I’m not going to hurt the royalty.” She scoffed at the pair and
rolled her eyes.

“Crabbe, Goyle, sit your bloody arses down,” Draco’s voiced command sounded from behind their
thick bodies, and Ginny glared at them once more as they stomped over to an adjoining pair of plush
benches and plopped down, arms crossed and both staring hard and dumbly at her.

“Why, thank you, Your Majesty. I do hope I haven’t interrupted some royal engagement or
anything.” Ginny curtsied with mock reverence, sarcasm lacing each of her words.

Draco’s eyes flashed. “No need to worry yourself, Weasel. But I do hope you don’t intend on
further polluting our compartment with your presence. The stench of poverty is mildly erosive on
one’s dress robes, wouldn’t you agree, Pansy?” He nodded towards his companion, though his eyes
never left their firm hold on Ginny’s.

Pansy sneered at Ginny and nuzzled herself against Draco’s side, scrunching her nose up at the
air around them.

“Why, darling, you shouldn’t be so rude. You can’t blame *her* for being born to a family
of wizard rejects, after all. She’s simply a victim of the disgraceful life she was meant to
live.”

Ginny’s mouth flapped open, but she quickly snapped it shut, collecting herself and raising her
own set of sharpened claws.

“Oh, certainly, Pug—I mean, *Pansy,* was it?” She secretly grinned at the look of fury that
flashed over Pansy’s face, “I was just checking in on Draco, you know, to make sure that after
living in *my house* for a week, he hadn’t become infected or anything.” She cast a worried
frown at him and stepped forward to lay the back of her hand over his forehead. She muttered
softly, ‘tsking’ beneath her breath as her mother did whenever one of the Weasley’s coughed,
sniffed, or even looked like their stomach ached.

“Weasel, what in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Draco flinched at her warm touch,
but Ginny promptly ignored him, pushing his head sideways so she could have a look in his ears.
After a few seconds of prodding, she straightened herself and shook her head gravely.

“My, my. I do believe you’ve got Frugal Fever, Draco. Oh, this is terrible!” Ginny swept the
back of her hand to her forehead dramatically and fanned her face.

“Goodness, we must get you straight to the train’s mediwitch as soon as possible. Why, your
robes could start looking threadbare if we waste another moment!” She grabbed his arm and yanked
him up from his seat.

Pansy cried out at her diagnosis and placed a hand over her horrified face.

“Draco! Have you really caught fru-friga-fruga-”

“Frugal Fever,” Ginny quipped.

“You’re going to start looking…*poor?!”* Pansy’s face was red and she looked fit to faint
with the way she carrying on; great fat tears were even welling up in her eyes.

Ginny paused to let her sheer dumbness settle in. *With that mind on her, it’s a wonder the
sorting hat didn’t spit her head right back out.*

Draco glared at Ginny, struggling at the tight clasp she had on his arm. She glowered at him and
tugged more insistently towards the exit. Crabbe and Goyle finally caught on that she was intending
to leave with their “King” and stood up to intervene.

Ginny pushed herself in front of Draco instantly, arms spread behind her as if protecting
him.

“Oh, no! You mustn’t get near! It’s highly contagious, Frugal Fever. I’ve heard of people who’ve
starting donating to charities and freeing houselves just by *associating* with one of
the…erm—contaminated,” She finished quickly, hoping they’d take the bait.

Pansy wailed, “Noo!”

“Unfortunately, yes. Loads of galleons to poor orphans in Switzerland. Dreadful, really. ” Ginny
shrugged apologetically.

Crabbe and Goyle gave their leader a weary glance before backing off and dusting off invisible
disease germs from their sleeves.

Pansy was on her knees on the sofa, raking her hands through her mass of stringy brown hair
frantically. “Get it out! Get it out!” She squealed.

“Wait!” Ginny exclaimed, slapping Draco’s hand away from her arm and giving him a ‘you’d better
shut that mouth of yours before I do’ glare. “There’s a way to prevent it!”

She racked her brain and suddenly grinned slyly.

Pansy lowered her wand, which she’d extracted seconds prior to begin launching scourgify charms
all over her robes and belongings.

“What is it?” Pansy flung herself at Ginny’s feet. Ginny fought the urge to laugh. Even Draco’s
lips were twitching defiantly at the sight of the blubbering witch.

“You must first find a…erm…a-a toad!” She frowned but couldn’t back out now. “Yes. A toad! And
you, um…you have to-erm-raise it high above your head and dump a bagful of galleons on the floor
and dance around it seventy times.” She finished lamely.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. She was literally going insane, or so he mused.

“A toad?” Pansy let the information roll around in her mind for a moment before she launched
herself out of the compartment (“Out of my way, Weasel!”), followed closely by a grumbling Crabbe
and Goyle.

Her cries of “Longbottom! Where’s that bloody frog of yours?!” echoed off of the train’s walls
until only the sound of rushing scenery filled the air around the pair left in the compartment, one
of which was bent over and laughing uncontrollably.

“Oh-my-what a—she actually *bought* it!” Ginny doubled over again, clutching her stomach
with mirth.

Draco straightened his ruffled robes and cast another glance in the direction Pansy’s shrieks
had headed off to, and he quickly shut the compartment doors.

“Great, Weasel. Now I’ll be hearing from the whole of slytherin house’s parents thinking I’ve
gone and given their kids some disease. Mother won’t be pleased either.” He tried to look scornful
and malicious, but the giggling witch beside him only laughed harder.

“Dear, D-Dumbledore. My son claims he’s been having decent thoughts lately. I m-must insist that
you allow him to come home immediately for medical treatment.” Ginny was growing breathless
now.

Draco crossed his arms, content to wait until she managed to control herself. Eventually,
Ginny’s laughter subsided and she was able to look at him straight with shining eyes and scarlet
cheeks of mirth.

“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport!” She scoffed and playfully smacked his arm, “You’ve got to
admit it, Draco. That girl’s about one bubble short of an imbecile potion.”

Draco’s eyes hardened once again. “You’d better leave before she gets back, Weasel. She’ll have
it out for you, and I know Parkinson. She’s got one hell of a knack for pay-back.” He made to open
the door for her, but Ginny placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“I can take care of myself, thank you. Besides, I thought you’d be glad to get away from her.
She’s terrible, isn’t she?” Ginny scrunched her nose at the memory of Pansy’s snarling face.

“I’m not up for your games right now, Weasel. You have no business being here. Leave.” He began
to open the door once again for her.

Ginny felt her heart clench at the ice that bordered his speech. She resigned to brush it off,
though. No need letting that one on.

“Aren’t you the grouchy one this morning? What is it? Feeling a bit off? You don’t suppose you
*really* *are* coming down with Frugal Fever, do you?” Ginny pressed her hand to his
forehead again and quickly dug into her robes, withdrawing a few shiny coins and holding them in
front of Draco’s face.

“Quick, Draco. How many coins do you see?”

Draco eyed the money with a bored glance and took in her twinkling hazel orbs, realizing at that
moment that whatever cruel comment he’d lined up had dissipated into the air around them. He was
immediately inclined to check his text books to see if there really was such thing as Frugal
Fever.

“You’re impossible, Weasley. Bloody impossible.” He held the door open for her, and she grinned
widely.

“Oh, believe me. I know.” She laughed and led the way down the corridor towards compartment 56B.
Behind her, she could feel the shadow of a smile gracing the contours of Draco’s face and suddenly
found herself looking forward to the impending term. Perhaps she’d have a little something to keep
her life interesting besides midnight kitchen raids and quidditch practice this year.

“A little faster, Weasel. I can’t be seen walking so close to you.” Draco uttered through
clenched teeth.

Ginny smiled silently but obliged by quickening her pace.

*This year will definitely be interesting, that’s for sure.*

Behind her, Draco Malfoy was furrowing his brow, a similar thought burrowing its way through his
mind at the same time.

At the feast later that evening, Ginny resorted to giving Ron the silent treatment, of which he
was completely oblivious to as usual, having averted his attention to his overfilled plate of
turkey, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie and gooey chocolate concoctions that made Ginny’s teeth hurt
just by looking at them.

She toyed with her fork, making it swirl designs into her Yorkshire pudding and listened with
half an ear while Hermione rattled over a paraphrased list of rules and regulations that went along
with prefecthood. Harry was watching her, however, with a look akin to the utmost
attentiveness.

Ginny smirked, realizing that he’d been staring at some point directly behind Hermione’s head
the entire time, the glazed over expression in his emerald orbs betraying him.

“—and you mustn’t forget that only Head Boy and Girl are allowed to take house points. If
McGonagall catches you threatening to dock them, she’ll have you cleaning the prefect’s bathroom
for a week…isn’t that right, *Ron*?” Hermione’s honey gaze landed on the unsuspecting prefect,
and she raised her eyebrows.

Ron swallowed his mouthful of food and shrugged, “Erm…right!” He nodded fervently, the mental
ticking of his brain practically visible beneath the shade of red that was tinting his face.
“McGonagall…boys docking…erm…bathroom…are you going to finish that, Gin?” Ron glanced hopefully at
his sister’s mutilated pudding, his earlier attempts to avoid a lecture from Hermione
abandoned.

Ginny sighed and pushed her plate towards him, feeling the beginnings of a back-to-school
headache brewing behind her eyes.

“Ronald Weasley! You should be setting a better example for your sister!” Hermione chastised,
glaring at his already full mouth.

“Wha’d I do?” His eyes widened at her and he swallowed nosily. Hermione sighed dramatically and
retreated her gazes to her own food.

Harry shrugged at Ron’s perplexed frown, and he quickly busied himself by joining Seamus
Finnegan and Daniel Clayton’s conversation about the Canon’s victory at nationals. Only Ginny
noticed when his hand slipped beneath the table and Hermione’s face suddenly relaxed, earlier
traces of annoyance dissolving from her face like rain sliding over a window pane.

Ginny chanced a look at the Slytherin table, spotting a flaxen head after a few seconds of
searching. Draco was facing her, his sides flanked by Pansy Parkinson (Ginny smiled to herself as
she noticed the way Pansy refrained from making direct contact with Draco whenever she reached for
anything) and Marcus Flint who was animatedly grunting and growling about something that Draco was
supposed to be paying attention to.

However, as Ginny noticed, his eyes were flitting casually across the room, eventually landing
on hers and locking for the briefest of seconds before tearing themselves away and flitting towards
the giant doors of the Great Hall.

Ginny’s stomach flipped inside her, grateful for any means of a distraction. She quickly dumped
the rest of her plate onto her brother’s, ignoring his exclamations of thanks and excused herself
quietly.

Hermione glanced at her in passing, offering a small smile to her younger friend, and hoping
that she hadn’t made her nervous by rambling about prefect responsibilities or anything.

“D’you want me to go with you, Gin? I could show you where the prefects meet every week. They
should have our assignments posted for the next week.” Hermione made to stand up, but Ginny placed
her hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back down.

“Oh, no. Don’t worry about me, Herm. I’m just going to go up to bed. I’m awfully tired after the
train ride.” She waved goodbye and threw in a yawn for good measure. “I’ll see you all tomorrow at
breakfast. G’night!” She didn’t wait for a response and quickly scurried out of the hall, hoping
they wouldn’t come after her.

Once she’d slid into the main entrance hall and up the winding staircase to the changing stairs,
she leaned against a statue of some ancient mediwitch and waited.

After a few tense moments, the sound of footsteps began to permeate the air, strong and sure of
where they were headed. Ginny smiled softly.

A blur of black filled the entryway and Ginny latched onto the hem of Draco’s robes, pulling him
into her hiding place.

His face met hers with an unreadable message, cold grey eyes not betraying their surprise. Ginny
grinned and giggled softly.

“Want me to show you something?” She whispered, peering over his shoulder for signs of any
onlookers. The brightly lit torches were casting dancing shadows across Draco’s face and the rest
of the corridor, and she found herself admiring the liquid silver of his eyes as they narrowed at
her own.

Draco’s reply was a glance over his own shoulder and quick shove in her shoulders. Ginny gasped
and quickly hid behind the statue, hoping she wasn’t visible. Draco pressed himself next to her,
shielding her from view.

Voices became less distant and finally filled the entrance to the stairwell. Ginny recognized
Lavender Brown’s high-pitched voice and Parvati Patil’s fluid giggles. Their animated conversation
droned on up the stairs and most likely to Gryffindor’s common room.

“The feast must be ending…” Ginny whispered, and once she felt it was safe enough, she tugged
Draco’s arm and they made their way in the opposite direction, taking a rarely used staircase up
and up until Ginny paused at a dusty wooden door, panting softly. She motioned for him to be quiet
and carefully nudged the door open.

Draco felt strange being led around like some dog by the female Weasel, but he’d grown quite
used to doing unusual things around her. Saying ‘thanks’ and things of the like.

Ginny sighed loudly, stepping out onto stone floor serenely. It was slightly drafty, but the
room was wide and had an open ceiling, revealing the sparkling night sky overhead. The walls
weren’t lit by torches, but by glowing silver orbs that cast just enough light to make the floor
visible, much like the half-moon that was shining above them.

Draco was curious, but he didn’t question how she’d discovered this room, and he followed her
silently to the middle of the floor where she knelt upon the ground and laid down on her back. He
was instantly reminded of his first night at the Burrow, with the youngest Weasley lying flat on
her back, hair fanned out around her head in dark curls, her pale skin glowing with moonlight.

Ginny closed her eyes serenely after a moment.

“I love it here, don’t you?” She spread her arms out as if she were making a snow-angel and
stretched lazily.

Draco sat beside her, his legs casually laid out before him. He leaned back on the palms of his
hands, finding that the floor had softened considerably, almost like grass now.

“Reminds me of home…” Ginny’s eyes fluttered open and leaned up on her elbows to take in the
sight of Draco more clearly. She noticed how angelic his features appeared to be, bathed in the
light of stars and shadowed in just the right places. She smiled softly, wondering if he were
thinking her stupid for wasting hours away on her back in a room that never met sunlight, that was
forever a starry night, forever hers.

“Already missing that sty, Weasley?” Draco sneered, breaking the silence around them. Ginny
ignored his comment and shrugged. “I always come here…at least once a week…to think.”

“Have you ever heard that perhaps you think too much, Weasley?” Draco was growing unnerved at
how comfortable he was feeling sitting next to her, the heat of her body so close to his own icy
demeanor.

“Have you ever heard that perhaps you *talk* too much, Draco?” Ginny laughed and suddenly
stood, brushing off her robes.

Draco followed suit. “Why’d you bring me up here anyway?”
“Why did you follow me?”

Draco was silent for a moment. “Alright. If you’re going to insist upon straggling along beside
me all bloody year long, Weasel, then we’re going to have to come to an understanding.”

Ginny nodded as if she’d been thinking something along similar lines and patiently waited for
him to continue.

“No one knows. Not Granger, not Potter, not even your thick-headed brother.”

Ginny giggled, “Are we going to be *secret* friends, then? Is that what you are proposing,
Mr. Malfoy?” She playfully smiled at him, eyes glittering.

“Well I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m never going to be rid of you, Weaslette. But I’m not
about to risk my reputation just so you can goggle at me all the time.”

Ginny scoffed, “Oh, get over your self. It just so happens that compared to the rest of my
friends, you happen to be the most interesting.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I knew you would.”

“Do we have an understanding then?” He crossed his arms impatiently, waiting for her answer. He
tried to squelch the rising feeling in his chest that if she said no, he’d be sorely
disappointed.

Ginny took a moment to consider before nodding silently.

“You continue to act like a royal arse to me and my friends and I’ll act like I can’t stand the
sight of you. Sounds lovely to me.” She smiled coyly.

“But, Draco?”

“What is it?”

“You might want to borrow Neville’s toad after all. I do believe you’ve begun to be a bit of a
softy, wouldn’t you agree?”

Draco glared at her warningly. “Do we have a deal or not, Weasel?”

Ginny held out her hand and shook his firmly.

“Deal.”

------------------------4 Weeks Later---------------------------

“Ginny, would you come on already?! We’re going to be late for McGonagall!” Collin Creevy
glanced swiftly at his watch, tapping his foot impatiently as Ginny fumbled to down the rest of her
pumpkin juice and juggle her books into her book bag at the same time.

“Oh, stuff it, Collin. We’re not going to be—“

Just then the chime of a clock filled the room, singing the tune of half past one.

“LATE!” She squealed and grabbed Collin’s arm, flinging him down the length of the Great Hall
and speeding towards the transfiguration class room. They were just tearing down the fifth long
corridor with a few more doors to go until they were roughly half a minute early for class when
Ginny felt herself being flung forward, waiting to crash into the ground and possibly knock herself
unconscious.

“Oof!” She grunted, feeling fabric gripped in her fingers and a warm body surrounding her.
Suddenly, she was thrown forward and had to stumble to regain her balance.

“Watch where you’re going, Weasel!”

Ginny huffed, ignoring Draco’s biting dialogue and stooped to help Collin retrieve her
books.

“Save it, Malfoy. I’m late.” She brushed off her robes and cradled her book bag in her hands,
inspecting it for any damage. She finally met Draco’s eyes, noting the practiced glare of annoyance
they glowed with and fought the urge to reach up and punch him in the shoulder for further delaying
her.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere helping Snape grease his hair or something?” She said with ease,
even achieving a look of disgust at the thought.

Collin was bouncing on the balls of his feet, itching to step just a few feet further into the
safety of McGonagall’s room, but duty as a best friend kept him locked in place.

“C’mon, Gin. Let’s go before we’re even later,” he urged, taking her arm.

Ginny nodded, glaring heatedly at Draco’s sneering face.

“Go along now, Malfoy. Mustn’t keep Snapey waiting, should you?”

“Touché, Weasel. Taking lessons in offense from St. Potter, are you?”

“Eat dung, Malfoy.”

“With a silver spoon, as always.”

“GINNY.” Collin forced himself between them, flung a few of her books into her arms and shoved
her away from Draco and into the classroom. Once inside, Ginny realized she was missing her quill
and quickly backtracked. Unsurprisingly, she met Draco around the corner where he was leaning
casually in his slytherin robes against the stone wall.

“You’re such a prat, did you know that?!” She rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself and
holding out her hand expectantly.

Draco whistled innocently, twirling her swan feathered quill between his long fingers.

“Hand it over, Draco—McGonagall’s waiting.”

Draco smiled deviously, “Hand what over?” He was now holding a shiny pocket watch in his
hand.

Ginny’s eyes widened. “You’d better change it back, Draco! Mum got that for me for my birthday!”
She glanced wearily at the silver oval, praying Draco was good enough at transfiguration to turn it
back into her favorite quill.

Seeing her obvious distress, Draco dangled the watch in front of her eyes, enjoying the way her
hazel orbs followed the swinging object lethargically.

“See that time?”

Ginny blinked, focusing in on the watch’s hour hand.

“10:00.”

Draco smirked. “Meet me tonight—you know where.”

Ginny sighed, annoyed at the game he was playing with her. “What for? So you can have me do your
Arithmacy homework for you again? You haven’t even finished looking over my potions scroll!”

Draco laid the watch carefully into her palm and with a tap of his wand it was back in perfect
quill condition.

“Meet me?” He looked at her evenly, knowing that she would meet him whether she said so or
not.

Ginny glared at him for a long moment before briefly nodding. “But you’re still a prat.”

“What are friends for, Weasel?” Malfoy winked at her with a bemused smirk (something only he
could pull off, Ginny believed wholeheartedly) and sauntered off in the opposite direction.

Ginny sighed heavily, leaning back against the wall and absently sliding the smooth quill
between her fingers. She and Draco had been keeping their friendship secret for a month now,
meeting a few nights a week in the Gazing Room. She found it hilarious to banter with him in the
hallways, colorfully wishing every type of cruel death upon him while others looked on, completely
fooled.

But in the past few days, she’d found herself living for those moments afterward when they would
find a dark corner and laugh at their acting skills or the game they’d perfected. She stopped
talking to a lot of her close friends lately, finding more comfort in sharing her thoughts with
Draco, who was content to sit and listen, offering sarcasm to lighten her moods and in some
situations a shoulder to cry on when she’d fail an exceptionally hard test or fought with her
brother.

She smiled softly at a memory two weeks aged, of herself in his arms, staining his quidditch
robes with her tears after Ron had been knocked out during a match and had to spend a week in the
infirmary. The bludger had been meant for her.

Another scene played across her distant eyes, raising her spirits all over again at the thought
of the day she’d been made a Gryffindor chaser and ran full-fledged to their secret place to find
him sitting silently, pouring his eyes over a thick book. She’d landed on him with a squeal,
laughing out her news as he listened to her recount the entire moment until she could no longer
speak over her tears of joy.

He never offered her more than he felt comfortable with, keeping himself within certain
limitations of protocol, but she knew that he cared for her. *As a friend*. She knew it by the
way he’d lead her through dense crowds with his hand on the small of her back, hidden by the
bustling bodies; she felt it in the way he bickered with her over silly things like staying out
past curfew or wandering alone during her prefect patrolling, insisting upon joining her at a
distance.

She spent hours helping him write letters of encouragement to his mother while he was away,
urging her to be strong, to know that soon he’d be home and able to care for her. She slowly grew
to *know* Draco Malfoy, and whether he’d wanted to or not, he let her.

She knew she was losing control of the game she’d started. Her feelings were slipping, falling
into new molds, becoming more than what she’d thought she’d been able to sustain. But she couldn’t
stop, *wouldn’t* stop for fear of losing him.

“Ginevra Weasley! Are you planning on standing there all day long or were you intending on
rejoining your classmates *before* the end of the lesson?” Minerva McGonagall’s authoritative
form filled the doorway of her classroom, and Ginny scrambled over to her, offering a small smile
of apology before meekly slipping past her.

The aging professor sighed loudly and began to follow her absentminded pupil in. Before she
fully entered the room, she cast a wise amber eye over her shoulder to where Draco had been
standing silently before, watching the oblivious fifth year with carefully hidden eyes.

He met her gaze silently, letting her eyes penetrate his own, digging and searching, hoping for
what she knew was truth to dissolve within his icy orbs. When he made no attempts to stop her
probing, she released her lock on his eyes and disappeared into the classroom, leaving Draco alone
in the cold corridor, not-so-secretly missing the warmth of a certain Weasley’s presence.

He quickly turned on his heel, heading back to the Slytherin common room for the rest of his
free period. Perhaps he’d study or write to his mother. Or perhaps he’d sit and brood over a fiery
red-head, waiting impatiently to hear her babble animatedly about her day or pester him about his
classes or her homework.

“Weasley Is Our King.” The Slytherin passageway opened, and he stepped through, finding a free
arm chair and slumping heavily into it, though he still looked every bit as regal and refined as he
always did in the casual position.

The sound of clicking heels sounded against the stone floor, and soon Pansy Parkinson was
standing before him, dangling a sealed letter between her manicured fingers.

“This just came for you, darling,” She smiled at him and made to sit next to him on the chair,
but Draco immediately stood, snatching the letter from her grasp.

“Something wrong, Draco?” She narrowed her eyes. She’d been hoping for a little playtime before
dinner, but obviously he wasn’t in the mood. In fact, he hadn’t been the mood for anything other
than quidditch, eating, or sleeping since term had begun.

Draco stared at the burnt-yellow colored letter; the Malfoy crest glared back at him. However, a
silver serpent had been added to the emblem, outlined in scarlet as it slid slowly around the
design. Draco’s heart was beating rapidly, thumping wildly within his chest and practically
stopping his lungs from being able to breathe.

“Leave.” He spat. Pansy huffed and stomped out of the room, deciding to go see if Marcus was
busy until Draco came to his senses.

Once alone, Draco tore open the letter as if it was burning his hands to keep it sealed any
longer. There on inky black parchment was a date scrawled in silver script. The blood ran cold
through Draco’s fingers, and his back went rigid. Beneath the writing was an illustration, a memory
in Draco’s case. He closed his eyes, shielding his grey eyes from the world’s view to focus on the
night he’d listened to his mother and father arguing heatedly. He saw his mother tear apart his
father’s sleeve, saw the Dark Mark’s lifelong stain on his father’s forearm, and felt the rush of
bewilderment all over again.

Draco wrenched his mind away from the memory and stormed to the opposite side of the common
room.

“*Incendio*!” He roared and flames erupted within the hearth. With a strangled cry, he
threw the letter into the fire, letting the flames eat it alive. Inside he knew, however, that this
was only delaying the inevitable. December 20th was hurtling its way forward with no
chance of slowing down. His hand flew to his own arm, massaging the bare flesh beneath his robes
silently.

In the fire the letter had been reduced to ashes, and he found himself imagining another flame,
the one that had been lighting up his life since he’d knelt beside it for much needed warmth more
than five weeks before.

He thought of what Ginny would say. What Ginny would think if he told her that the rumors were
true? That he would be meeting the Dark Lord in less than three month’s time. That he probably
wouldn’t be coming back.

“Damn it!” He threw his fist into the back of one of the leather-bound sofas peppered throughout
the room. His knuckles connected with hard wood and hot, white pain shot up and down his arm.

Somewhere a clock signaled the end of the day’s classes, and he covered his bleeding and broken
hand with the other. He’d be facing her in 5 hours. He ran a blood-stained hand through his flaxen
locks and set his face to stone.

Outside, the sun snuck behind a barrier of clouds, refusing to shed its warmth upon the desolate
hour. Draco basked in the shadow of day and swiftly left the common room, leaving the fire to lick
and groan over his heavy burden until only ashes remained.

--------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Really hope you enjoyed this one and that it was worth the unusually long waitI Can’t wait
to hear from you all! Thanks so much for your wonderful reviews!

Ciao!

~Adrial~

PS: Review…give me some energy to get me through this week and get the next chapter out! ;-) I
promise I’ll respond to your review ASAP!



9. Of Love and Wreckage
-----------------------

AN: Alright, I’ve gone and re-written a bunch of the last section of D/G at the end. So this is
version 2.0; I think I’ve managed to make everything clear. Sorry again for the confusion! Read,
and let me know if I’ve missed anything. Thanks for being so great!

~Adrial~

-------------------------------------------------------------------

“To be or not to be a Weasley”

By: Adrial

Chapter 9: Of Love and Wreckage (v2.0)

-------------------------------------------------------

*Hope dangles on a string
Like slow spinning redemption
Winding in and winding out
The shine ahead has caught my eye
And roped me in so mesmerizing
It's so hypnotizing
I am captivated
*

*I am…

Vindicated
I am selfish
I am wrong
I am right
I swear I'm right
Swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed
But I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now
The things you swore you saw yourself…*

*--------------------------------------------------------------------------*

Ginny plopped onto a seat next to a few chattering fifth year girls where she knew she wouldn’t
be noticed. Casting a paranoid glance over her shoulder, she found her brother staring at her back
inquisitively and rolled her eyes, turning back to the girls and inconspicuously trying to look as
if she were involved in all the animated nonsense.

She threw her head back a laughed at a joke she hadn’t heard and in the process caught a glimpse
of her protective nuisance. He was now slumping in his seat, glancing dejectedly back and forth
between Harry and Hermione who were unusually quiet and both staring at their plates as if they
were the pivotal point of the universe. They’d been doing a lot of that lately.

Ginny whipped back around and sighed. At least she knew she wasn’t the only one with a secret to
bear. Biting her lip, she dug deep into her bag and withdrew a hastily scribbled letter from the
folds. She unfolded it, trying to mask her eagerness by keeping her pace at a decent level.
Finally, she had it spread out before her.

*Weasel* *Ginny**,*

*Something’s come up. I won’t be able to make it tonight. Guess you’re on your own with the
potions scroll. Just say that I owe you one (never thought you’d have a Malfoy in your debt, did
you, little weasel?)—who knows, I just might teach you how to fly properly on that ruddy
contraption you call a broom one of these days.*

*See you,*

*X*

Ginny’s auburn brow furrowed itself into deep wrinkles on her forehead as she read and reread
Draco’s letter. With a miserable sigh, she lifted her body up from the table and gathered her
things. She’d made it to dinner early that night so she hadn’t expected to see him there, and she
slowly made her way out of the Great Hall. The giggling cluster of Gryffindors droned on behind
her, not missing her for an instant.

She felt extremely lonely then, wandering the dreary castle corridors with only the silent waltz
of torchlight against the walls to accompany her as everyone else was either eating or off
somewhere enjoying the last of the warm weather before autumn snuck upon them and set everything to
rest.

She didn’t much feel like going up to Gryffindor tower at the moment. Nor did she care to seek
refuge from the suffocating quiet in the library where at least Madam Pince’s muffled shuffling
offered a soundtrack to the calm atmosphere.

Mrs. Norris slinked past her, casting an accusatory glare in her direction before realizing that
she wasn’t doing anything out-of-bounds and flouncing off to bother someone else lurking around
alone. Ginny readjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder and slumped into an awkward position
against the sill of a blurry window that overlooked the wrinkling waters of the lake. Greedy clouds
were crowding around the fuchsia rays of the sun’s departure, as if trying to obscure the world
from its penetrating warmth.

She sighed and leaned her cheek against the cold glass; her hot breaths splashed foggy blotches
over the window and she idly traced nameless shapes through them with her index finger. There was
no point in denying it—she missed Draco.

She banged her head deftly against the pane and tried to force the thought from her mind by
squinting her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. When that failed to succeed, she sighed and
gave up. She would have given anything to be with him then, if only to hear him berate her for any
number of her idiosyncrasies that he took pleasure in pointing out, or simply for her to say
something that would force a smile upon his face that he would quickly hide behind a scowl in her
direction.

*Get a grip, Weasley. It’s only one bloody day. It’s not like you don’t have better things to
do anyway*. *Just erm…think of something…*

And so she thought. And thought. Her brain began to ache from her concentration on an abyss of
nothingness and she sighed bemusedly. Nope—all she could think of filling her time with concerned
speaking with Draco, annoying Draco, laughing at Draco, thinking of Draco…

“I’m going bloody mental. St. Mungos—here I come,” She mumbled and scowled at the emptiness
around her.

The sudden shuffle of footsteps shook her from her reverie, and she quickly tried to bury
herself deeper into the corner of the sill, though knowing that she’d be all too visible
regardless.

“Oh!” Someone’s muffled gasp sounded from behind her, and Ginny whipped around, only to be
greeted with somber honey-hued eyes, wild brown hair that drooped miserably over sagged shoulders
and crystalline tears that slipped down a blotchy red face before trickling soundlessly onto the
collar of a crisp white shirt.

“Hermione?” Ginny questioned curiously, easily raising from her seat and rushing to the
distraught girl. Hermione shook her head miserably and dredged up the most pitiful of sad smiles
Ginny thought she’d ever seen.

A few fat tears leaked out from Hermione’s eyes and she swatted them away, allowing herself to
be enfolded in Ginny’s embrace. Ginny patted her back comfortingly with her eyes furrowed and heart
clenching for her friend whom she realized with a twist of her heart that she had been neglecting
for the past month.

“Hermione…what’s the matter?” She could feel cold patches of wetness where Hermione’s eyes were
relieving themselves of their painful burden and bit her own lip, feeling guilty moisture forming
behind her own hazel orbs, now a dusky brown hue in the approaching night.

“I’ve—something—awful—can’t—oh, Ginny! What am I *hic* going to do?” She pulled herself from
Ginny’s arms and looked at the younger girl helplessly, longing to borrow a bit of her assurance,
or just a pinch of her shameless bravery for just one moment, if only to fix what she’d so brutally
destroyed.

Ginny frowned, subconsciously shivering at the pure sadness dripping form Hermione’s self. “What
on earth is it, Hermione? What have you done?” She narrowed her eyes questioningly, urging Hermione
to pull herself together.

But all the girl would do was release a strangled cry and slide to the floor like a broken doll,
hiding her face behind her knees. Ginny knelt beside her, setting out to make up for her selfish
neglect and do whatever she could to help the shadow of the girl she’d grown to love and admire
like an older sister over the summer.

“Hermione…you can tell me…” Ginny smoothed the curly locks of hair that cascaded down Hermione’s
back and sat cross-legged beside her.

Hermione sniffled loudly and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. After a few moments,
she finally turned to face Ginny once again, this time her visage was darkened by a deep, hollow
look of regret. She was silent for a long while until Ginny could no longer stand it.

“Merlin, Hermione. You’re going to have to start telling me something or else I’m going to go
find Harry or Ron—maybe they’d be—“

“NO!” Hermione rasped out, choking over her own cry. “You can’t! That’s just it…they probably
wouldn’t come anyway…they…I…” She trailed off, biting her lip and seemingly unable to continue.
Ginny’s curiosity peaked at her declaration and she settled in for a long conversation.

“What happened? Surely you can’t have done anything so horrible to make them—“

“Oh but I *have*, Ginny! That’s just it…I think I…” Hermione shuddered and shook her head
solemnly, “I think I’ve l-lost them both, Gin.”

Ginny let this sink in for a moment before she spoke, drawing Hermione into a one-armed hug and
offering a handkerchief to wipe her face with as it was growing red from the over usage of her
sleeve.

“Ron knows…doesn’t he?” Ginny suddenly whispered, casting a questioning frown towards Hermione.
Her eyes widened for a millisecond before she nodded succinctly.

“He saw us…after dinner…near Hagrid’s hut…” She inhaled a quaky breath, “I didn’t mean to hurt
him, Ginny. Please believe me—I *swear* neither of us meant to. I should have told him sooner,
I knew it, but it was always so hard…he was always so bloody insufferable and we were always
fighting and it just never seemed like there was a time or a place to just…just *tell* him.”
She ended her rambling with a sniffle and waited for Ginny to start screaming at her, to berate her
for hurting her brother, for lying and letting him believe in things that wouldn’t
be…*couldn’t* be true, now or ever.

Ginny’s heart tightened. She pictured her brother in her mind, his horrible way of hiding his
feelings and lack of ability to read others’ as well. She also knew that Hermione cared for Ron
more than a lot of people realized. There was no breaking the Golden Trio’s bond, unless…

“How long?”

“Since the beginning of term…I hadn’t planned it, honestly. It’s just…Harry and I have been
feeling, well…*things* for some time now, and one day…” She didn’t finish her sentence, and
Ginny didn’t ask her to.

“I don’t know what to say, ‘Mione…Ron—he thought he loved you,” Ginny whispered the last part
and her heart ached for her brother. She instantly wished she’d spent more time letting him annoy
her, maybe then he would have confided in her and she could have helped his eyes open to what
they’d been brutally bombarded with in a dart of lightning.

Hermione choked on her next words. “I kno-ow.”

“But I know Ron. I know what’s going on in his mind right now—he’s thinking his best friend has
betrayed him.”

“But I didn’t mean—“

“No…no, Hermione. Not *you*—Harry. Ever since Ron and he became friends, Ron has watched
Harry succeed at things he’d never even dreamed of before. He was golden, and Ron was one of seven
children, never special, never exceptional at much. But with you…he thought he’d finally found
someone he could have all on his own, just because he was *himself*. He wanted you and
*Harry* got you. It’s going to be a long time before he forgets that.”

Hermione’s tears had dried by the end of Ginny’s statement, and she sighed heavily.

“He’s going to hate us. I can’t bear to watch him and Harry like that—not again. Not when they
need each other now more than ever.”

Ginny shrugged, “There’s not much that can be done, ‘Mione. It’s too late to go back, but I
promise that he’ll come around eventually. You know, Ron—he takes a bit longer than most to build
bridges over things he needs to get over. Just be patient, alright?”

Hermione nodded silently and weakly smiled. “I really have missed you lately, Gin. It seems like
you’re never around anymore really…but I suppose with NEWT’s coming up just next year, I’ve been
locking myself up in the library more frequently than usual as well. But I kind of missed having a
little sister to confide in.”

Ginny bit her lip. Should she let Hermione know that she wasn’t he only one at Hogwarts with a
secret? *No, I can’t. She wouldn’t understand. She hates Draco*.

She quickly plastered on a smile and hugged Hermione, burying the stab of regret she felt rise
in her chest, “I know. I guess I’ve been a bit preoccupied what with OWL’s just around the corner
for me as well. But I’ll be here more often, I promise. Goodness knows you three fall to pieces
every time there’s not someone there to play referee.” She winked playfully and made to stand.

Hermione rose shakily, feeling as if a hundred pounds had been lifted off of her shoulders and
was replaced by a weightless sense of acceptance.

“Ginny…”

“Yeah?” Ginny began to gather her things.

“Do you…I mean…I know it’s probably not my place to ask, but…are you OK with—“

“Hermione Granger, when you and Harry start popping out kids, just promise to name one of them
after me, will you?” Ginny smiled deviously at her and slung her bag over her shoulder.

Hermione laughed softly and bobbed her head. “Absolutely.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, Ginny found a bouquet of scarlet roses on her bed and an anonymous letter attached
to the stems. She stared as a few petals strayed from their flower and stained her ivory sheets
like drops of fragrant blood.

She hesitantly reached for the envelope and opened it. Blue ink.

“Dammit…take a bloody *hint*, Thomas, would you?!” She scowled at the bouquet and gathered
it into her arms, ignoring the alluring scent and focusing on hurling them out of her window at the
soonest possible moment.

“*Alohamora*!” She shouted impatiently and flung her wand back onto her nightstand when the
window opened accordingly. She reared back and let the barbed beauty shower the grounds below like
crimson rain.

A group of boys ducked to avoid the flowery assault and one of them bent over to retrieve one of
the less-mutilated roses, craning his neck to stare up at the blurry red-head poking out of the
window.

“Ginny Weasley! I thought I told you I wouldn’t go out with you until you promised to do my
Transfig. homework for next week!”

Ginny grinned and itched for something else to throw. “Shut it, Finnegan! I’m having a bad
day!”

Seamus scratched his head and twirled the stem of his rose between his fingers leisurely. “Keep
your feminine issues to yourself, Gin. I’m not looking to die by rose anytime soon!” He laughed
heartily and began to saunter off, throwing a wave behind him.

Ginny leaned farther out of the window and called after him, “Only if you’d do me a grand favor
and tell that great prat of a friend you have that I’m not looking to be married before I
graduate!!” She pulled out of the window before he could respond and plopped onto her bed in a
huff.

“Bloody boys. And for the *last* time, it’s SUNFLOWERS, you idiot!” She spat to no one in
particular and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Crawk! You’re late! Crawwwk! You’re late! CRAWWK!”

“SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP!!!” Ginny roared and ran to Hailey’s side of the dorm to pound her fist
into her obnoxious alarm crow. The black bird ducked back inside of his two-bedroom flat and
ruffled its feathers defensively.

“CRAWWK! Grouchy-Grouchy! Crawwk!!”

“I-said-SHUT-UP!” Ginny grabbed her wand and cried, “*Silencio*!” The ebony nuisance
continued to poke in and out of the balcony but its great orange beak merely flapped open and
closed uselessly.

“There…that’s more like it.” Ginny smiled with a satisfied smirk. It *was* Saturday after
all. She was free to storm about her dorm in a rage and attack passers-by with projectile greenery
while taking out her anger on obnoxious wizarding appliances if she wanted.

Besides, if she went into the Common Room that would mean facing her brother, and she was in no
particular mood to travel down that path quite yet. He’d spent the last few days moping around,
glaring holes into the wall and peoples’ foreheads if they tried to shake him out of it. Hermione
and Harry had kept a safe distance from him as well, and any time either of the three found
themselves within a five foot radius of the other, they would flee to the ends of the earth before
facing one another. To Ginny the entire thing was ridiculous, but she sympathized with all three of
them for different reasons, and that would put her directly in the middle, which was the last place
she wanted to be at the moment.

Now, as to the reason why she was currently ripping clothing out of her wardrobe at a speed that
would have made the Firebolt II look like a feather duster?

*Draco Bloody Malfoy*.

She guessed his middle name must have been something different, but given the current
circumstances, she thought it fit him quite nicely. Bloody. What she wouldn’t give to bloody him up
a bit, maybe punch his nose in or sock him in his gut. She growled as a jumper decided to be cheeky
and tangle itself up in another hanger.

“Bugger!” She inserted her index finger into her mouth, noting the taste of blood as she nursed
her cut issued from trying to disengage the offending piece of clothing.

He’d been ignoring her. *Her!* She thought back to the previous evening after she’d run
across him in the hall before dinner. There were people around so he quickly pushed his nose up at
her and declared her unfit to walk the halls for fear that her distracting mane of red would
blind-sight pedestrians, and she skillfully bantered back with him as well.

*“Oh is that so, Malfoy? And what about you? Don’t you think it unsafe for a DE in training to
be stalking the halls full of innocents before dark?” She spat and didn’t bother to note the flash
of horror that fell over his face as he let her comment sink its teeth into his chest and rip it to
ribbons.*

Right after, she’d snuck into an empty classroom near by, letting him see exactly which one and
waited…and waited…for one minute…two minutes…five... She finally gave up and poked her head out to
encounter the bustling pre-dinner traffic and no sign of Draco whatsoever. She thought perhaps that
he’d been whisked off by some slytherin for dinner and couldn’t raise suspicion by backtracking,
but he hadn’t been at dinner sneering convincingly at her from the slytherin table, and he hadn’t
shown up in the Gazing Room that night either. And Ginny knew because she’d stayed there for four
hours, staring into open space and growing more and more agitated with every moment that ticked by.
Not even the gentle comfort of the winking stars could appease her senses.

But she hadn’t been aware of the torn pair of silver eyes that watched her through a crack in
the door and had to rip themselves away from her alluring form to keep their owner away from
charging in and spilling out his soul to her in a fit of mental weakness.

Ginny finally stuffed herself into a light blue jumper and threw on a pair of faded jeans. There
was a Hogsmeade visit that day, but she planned on spending the afternoon by the lake where she
could think (and brood) in peace. As she made her way down the stairs, clusters of witches and
wizards passed by her, each clutching warm cloaks against their chests and babbling excitedly about
the day before them.

“Hey, Gin!” Collin’s voice met Ginny at the foot of the staircase and she smiled
ditheringly.

“Hello, Collin. Going to Hogsmeade alone, are you?” She winked at him playfully, not missing
Natalie Fletcher’s becoming blush from a few feet away and the way Collin was nervously fiddling
with his hair whenever she wasn’t looking.

Collin cleared his throat and grinned cheekily, “Not if you tag along.”

Ginny shrugged, “I don’t think so, Collin. I’m really not in the mood—“

“Did that wanker send you another bloody present?” He spat and placed a friendly hand on her
forearm.

Ginny laughed and nodded. “Oh just the usual you know, cupid pixies and fountains of rose
petals.” She winked impishly.

“Shall I hex him for you? I’ve been meaning to test that one your brother showed me last
week…”

“I don’t think Dean would fancy having spaghetti strings growing out of his ears, Collin, but
thank you for the offer. Have fun today, will you?” She kissed him on the cheek and he nodded,
smiling widely.

“You, too, Gin…and, erm…be careful, would you?” He added the last bit with a hesitant look and
Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Not you, too, Collin!”

Another grin appeared on his face. “Can’t help it. Any pretty friends of mine shouldn’t be left
to walk the corridors alone.”

“I’m sure you could if you tried hard enough, Collin. I’ll see you, OK?” She patted his cheek
and walked off a bit happier than she had been before. Right before she got to the portrait hole,
she turned back and looked at him deviously.

“Oh, and Collin? I don’t think Natalie will be warming up to you any time soon if she sees you
flirting with other girls.”

Collin looked at her curiously before turning to his left only to see the aforementioned witch
glaring daggers in his direction and being comforted by three babbling girls in her year.

Collin gulped and waved a quick ‘thanks’ to Ginny whose giggles could be heard echoing off of
the corridor walls until the Fat Lady swung herself shut once again.

Ginny passed by the infirmary and then McGonagall’s empty classroom before taking a set of
stairs that would lead her up to one of the unused towers of the castle until everyone bustled out
for the day.

As she rounded a corner, she suddenly found herself staring up into cloudy emerald eyes that
belonged to a handsome boy with mussed hair and a scar on his forehead that seemed to have lost a
bit of its luster after knowing him for five years.

“Oh…Hullo, Gin,” Harry awkwardly stuffed his hands into his pockets, and Ginny resisted the urge
to cover her mouth in shock at how utterly despondent he looked—as if his body was too young to be
able to support all of the burdens life had shoved off onto his shoulders and he was buckling under
the weight of it all.

“Harry, what are you doing up here? Are you alright?” She narrowed her eyes curiously at him and
took in his wrinkled sweatshirt and pants, sleepless eyes and pale skin.

He offered her a weak smile, “I’m fine, thanks. Just taking a walk…you know…to think.” He looked
as if he would have loved to be anywhere but there at the moment, but Ginny wasn’t ready to let him
go just yet.

“Hermione told me what happened, Harry. I’m sorry things had to be this way.” She whispered
softly and noted the guarded look he flashed at her after she’d finished.

“Never one to beat around the bush, are you, Gin?” He smiled at her and ruffled her hair.

“Oh, but you *are*, Mr. Potter.” She stared at him determinedly. Harry sighed and leaned
against the cold stone wall heavily, his hands now clenched into fists inside of his pockets.

“I can’t get either of them to talk to me. Even Hermione…” He paused and took a deep breath,
“Even she won’t come near me for more than a few moments. I can’t help but think that she blames
me…I was the one who was too scared to tell him…but now I’m beginning to wonder….maybe she loved
him after all…”

Ginny’s eyes widened and she placed a warm hand on Harry’s forearm, drawing his attention.

“That’s not true, Harry. It’s always been you—it always *will* be you.” Her hazel eyes were
large and honest, and Harry felt a jerk somewhere inside of him at her words. And just as a light
of hope flickered to life in his eyes, they clouded over once again and he shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve made a right mess of things here. I guess it’s becoming quite a habit of
mine lately…” He gave a short laugh devoid of mirth and shrugged.

Ginny bit her lip and stared at him for a moment before she spoke again.

“Lillies.” She said resolutely and dragged him off of the wall.

“What?” He felt himself being shoved unceremoniously into the opposite direction of the tower
and back towards the stairs.

Ginny rolled her eyes, “Hermione’s favorite flower. You’re going to need some kind of leverage
aren’t you?”

“Ginny—I can’t…”

“Yes you can. First you get that girl out of her dorm and back into the swing of things, then
you kiss the living daylights out of her, and after you’ve had a naughty snog fest in some cloak
closet or another, *then* you can deal with my brother.”

She smiled winsomely at him and gave him a final shove that started him down the stairs. He
turned around, and Ginny was happy to see a trace of warmth flooding his eyes once more.

“Thanks, Gin. But I’m afraid some things just aren’t this easy.”

“Only if you aren’t willing to try.”

Harry contemplated her words for a moment before nodding silently and descending the sloping
stairs. Once his bobbing head was out of sight, Ginny sighed heavily and waited a few moments to
follow after. She’d forgotten to warn him that if he hurt Hermione again she’d use the imperious
curse to sick Crookshanks on him. No one would ever believe him anyways. But, alas, she’d have to
save that for another time. Everyone should have been long gone by then.

Out on the grounds, Ginny felt her body sigh with relaxation. Her breathing measured itself in a
rhythm that flowed with the undulating waters of the lake and harmonized with the trees as their
branches wrestled with Mother Nature in an attempt to hang onto their leaves for another day.

The grassy shore was deserted and Ginny found a soft patch of thick golden grass to lie down on
as she turned her face to the silvery sky that promised rain. A few droplets splashed her face, and
she thought bitterly of being caught in a rain storm on the very day she’d decided to enjoy a
little sunshine in her life.

*Oh well…*

She rolled over onto her stomach and cradled her chin in her hands, casting thoughtful eyes over
the lake where the giant squid had slid to the surface for a bit of air before diving back into the
murky depths. In what seemed like no time, the eerie lullaby of the lake and its surroundings drew
her into sleep, in which she kicked and stirred fitfully, haunted by rolling black skies and boys
with platinum hair and silver eyes.

Somebody was poking her awake gently, and Ginny rolled over onto her side, swatting away the
offending hand and mumbled something incoherent underneath her breath.

“You’re simply adorable while you sleep, Ginny.”

Ginny snapped up then, facing Dean Thomas’ thoughtful face with shocked horror.

“Dean! What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!” She quickly stood and brushed off
the grass from her bottom and hair.

He rose from his kneeling position and looked at her expectantly. “Does this mean that you
didn’t receive the roses?” He scratched the back of his head absently. Hadn’t he had the school owl
deliver them to the right room?

Ginny scoffed, “Yes I got them. They were lovely. Now if you’d please excuse me, I have things
to do.”

“Like?” Dean looked at her inquisitively. Ever since he’d arrived at school, everyone had
noticed a definite shift in personality from the carefree, quidditch-loving fifth year they thought
they’d known into a stiff-haired, ironed and pressed young man who spent every day walking the
corridors as if on display for a Future Husbands of England news advertisement.

Ginny wracked her brain. *Like avoiding the hell out of you and coming up with a way to
disguise myself so that I never have to suffer in your presence ever again.*

“Erm…Transfig essay…a really nasty one…could be hours, no, *days* before I finish…” She
started to walk past him but he caught her arm easily and made her stop.

“Wait. I wanted to know if you’d come to Hogsmeade with me. I’ve been looking for you all
morning, but I think we can still get in a good hour or two before—“

“Um…I don’t think so.” Ginny tugged her arm away from his, but he merely grasped her more
firmly.

“Come on, Gin. You haven’t been returning any of my letters or even acknowledging my presence
since last summer. I think you owe me one.” He released her when she dug her fingernails into his
wrist and stared at her, shocked.

“What the bloody hell was that for?”

“I don’t owe you *anything*! Stay away from me. This is the last time I’m going to ask.”
She made to leave once again, but he yanked her by her shoulders and kept her in place, struggling
futilely against him.

“Let me go, you bastard! I’m *not* going to be Mrs. Dean Thomas! Get OVER it!” She
screeched against him.

Dean growled when she managed to claw a gash onto his neck and gripped her bruising flesh with
more fervor.

“This isn’t my fault, Ginny. It’s either my parents’ wishes come true or I lose my inheritance,
and I’m not willing to give up summer in the Swiss Alps because a stubborn little bint like
*you* has decided to be difficult. Besides, haven’t you ever heard of an annulment?” He
struggled to keep hold of her writhing body.

“You’re pathetic! Get the hell off of me!” She spat at him.

Dean growled and felt himself being shoved backward more and more as Ginny’s temper flared and
grew to a degree that threatened to devour him completely. He lost his footing and they tumbled
together in a tangle of red-hair and limbs onto the ground. Ginny didn’t have time to get in a good
punch at his face or knee him in his unmentionables like she whole-heartedly wanted to, as he was
suddenly thrown off of her and rolled about five meters away, heaving dry air.

Ginny stared at him for a moment before she felt herself being dragged up from the ground like a
rag doll and flung behind a tall figure wearing black.

“I suggest you take your arse and drown yourself some where, Thomas, before I do it for you.”
Draco’s malicious tone stabbed the air like iced daggers, and Ginny wasn’t sure whether to be
grateful or fearful as he stood before her, shaking with rage and pulsing with harnessed power that
she wasn’t sure she’d like to be witness to if it was released.

Dean picked himself up off of the ground and looked back and forth between Ginny and Draco for a
few moments as if contemplating whether or not she was worth an impromptu dip in the unforgiving
waters of the lake.

Draco instinctively hid Ginny behind him completely, and withdrew his wand from within the folds
of his cloak. Dean’s eyes widened substantially, and he scrambled off, throwing horrified glances
behind his back every other step.

“So much for Gryffindor bravery,” Draco spat and returned his wand to his cloak. Ginny was
shaking silently behind him, watching as he breathed hard and forcefully as if he’d just run a
marathon. When he turned to her, his gaze was still sparked by icy rage though Ginny watched as it
slowly leaked out of his eyes and into the air around them, leaving them staring at each other
appraisingly.

Ginny tucked some of her hair behind her ears and tried not to stare at the ground like she
desperately wanted to. Nameless emotions were flickering across Draco’s face as he watched her,
flitting by like fast-forwarded movie scenes, too rapid for Ginny to be able to decipher them.

He finally tore his eyes away from her, feeling his entire demeanor relax after he’d taken in
her un-bruised body. At least he wouldn’t have to murder the bloke—though he might rethink that
once he knew how he’d been harassing Ginny for the past month.

He turned to leave without pause for small talk, and Ginny felt herself gasping and moving
forward, anger and resentment flooding her veins like acid.

“Where do you think *you’re* going?” She fell into step beside him, trying to keep up.

“Does it matter? I’ve saved your arse and all you care about is where I’m *going*?”

Ginny glared at him, “Well after the way you’ve been ignoring me this past week, I think I have
a right to know. Draco, what’s going on with you?” She grabbed his arm and tried to turn him to
face her. He didn’t resist, meeting her gaze with haunted eyes and an unreadable expression.

“I’ve been busy.” He declared.

Ginny scoffed, “Too busy to eat? I haven’t seen you at meal time in days. Have you been wasting
away in your dorm all this time?” She took in his appearance, his slick hair and paler than usual
face. “You look like you’ve been snogging a dementor.”

Draco sneered at her, “Sod off, Weasley. I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s been stuck up your arse lately. We have all
day. I can wait.” She crossed her arms and stood as if she had every intention of doing just
that.

Draco glared at her intensely, alarm rising in his mind. How could he possibly tell her?

“Save your energy, Weasley. You’re not going to get anywhere with me.”

Ginny’s eyes softened with hurt. Was he turning back on their friendship now? She did her best
to mask the feeling of betrayal digging a hole into her chest and narrowed her eyes at him

“We’ll see about that, Draco. But if I’m not mistaken, I believe you said the same thing about a
month and a half ago, didn’t you? It seems that the Malfoy word isn’t as definitive as it used to
be.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively and waited for him to say something.

Draco stared at her. Hard. She could practically feel her insides shifting to dodge the intense
power of his gaze. She easily disguised this with a placid face and determined frown.

Inside of Draco’s mind, his world was spinning—his forearm was screaming, his lungs were
fighting to breathe, his heart was aching for something while his conscience fought desperately for
dominance, his eyes were watching Ginny Weasley standing there like a siren, his legs were jelly,
his stomach had turned cold. It was enough to make a body sick with confusion, but he reveled in
the feelings because they were all strange and foreign to him.

In all his life, he’d always had a path laid out before him, each step carefully measured in
proportion to his father’s larger ones, but this girl, this miniscule dot in a world full of
squares had rocked him off track, and he was speeding forward towards her light at the end of a
weary tunnel as if he’d been wrong all along, as if she was the reason he kept traveling each day,
if only to reach her faster.

Ginny’s gaze softened at the sight of his blank face. He was nearly lost in the cold sky painted
behind him, but Ginny thought he’d never looked so striking in all the time she’d known him. She
shivered and realized that they were being drenched with rain she hadn’t even noticed falling.

Draco caught her elbow in his hand and led her to the courtyard on the west side of the castle
that bordered the greenhouses. Underneath a stone ceiling bolstered by ancient looking columns, the
pair stood together, glazed with rain and filled to the brim with questions they weren’t sure they
were able to answer just yet.

Ginny played with a handful of hair in one hand, staring at the moss-covered ground and leaning
against the pillar. Draco watched her silently from where he leaned just beside her, close enough
to feel the heat of her body against his right side, and drank in the sight of her darkened-by-rain
auburn hair, heart-shaped face and delicately sloped nose. She was six inches below him, and he
felt as if he should have been hovering over her to better protect her from the rain. She looked so
small and—Draco swallowed and had to force his eyes away from her—*beautiful*.

The rain slapped against the ground around them, staining the earth in shades of grey, and
outlining Ginny’s flaming hair in a halo of silver like a flame in a blizzard. A long, tense minute
passed before either spoke again.

“Thanks for…for earlier…”

Ginny saw Draco’s curt nod from the corner of her eye and she sighed.

“And I didn’t mean to be so harsh before…you just worried me, is all. I…erm...well, I suppose
I’ve…I mean…what I’m trying to say is—“ Ginny stumbled clumsily once she realized she’d been about
to confess that she’d actually *missed* the insufferable prat, and she felt a deep, burning
blush stain her cheeks. Draco held up a hand to silence her.

“I told you I owed you one the other day in my letter, didn’t I?”

Ginny’s heart clenched at his words. Had he only been doing her a favor? Was she a fool for
thinking that she’d seen something more than friendly rage sparking in his eyes as he threatened
Dean? She was sure then that the flicker of green she’d noted in his gaze must have been merely an
illusion.

*Stupid…stupid…stupid….* She silently berated herself.

“What? No witty remarks or insults from the Weasel today? Are you sure you haven’t come down
with something?” Draco faked concern, and Ginny’s face hesitantly slid into a smile.

“Would you care?” She found her voice leaving her throat before she could latch a leash on to
its neck and drag it back.

They were enveloped in a pregnant pause, and Ginny bit her lip harshly. Why had she asked him
that? She was going to ruin everything now! She knew that the number one reason that they had
become friends was that they didn’t concern themselves with compassion towards the other or any of
the duties a friend is usually burdened with—like *caring*.

But in the pit of her stomach, she knew that *she* cared for *him*. And she felt her
insides clench in fear that he might answer her question and shatter everything she’d been silently
building up against his cold defenses for so long.

“I can’t *afford* to care, Ginny.” He uttered darkly, somewhere between cruelty and
honesty. Ginny’s nod was barely noticeable, but something suddenly sprang to life inside of her. A
giggle escaped her lips.

“How ironic, though, isn’t it, Draco?” She laughed a bit more, “That with all the money the
Malfoys have, all the luxuries and all the pride, they can’t seem to *afford* to care.” She
laughed harder, unsure of what exactly she was laughing *at*, but it helped ease the sick
feeling growing in her stomach.

Draco furrowed his brow at her and contemplated her words for a moment, but he didn’t speak or
offer any snide remarks about her habitual knack for giggling at the oddest of moments either.

Ginny calmed herself and a stolid frown appeared on her face once again.

“It’s silly, Draco, because caring doesn’t cost a thing. Not *one* galleon of your fortune
would budge if you just *tried* to care.” She turned her eyes upon him and locked them
there.

Draco sighed, “You’ve said it before, Ginny. Some things are more valuable than money.” He
smirked at her dumbfounded silence.

“Dignity. Pride. Respect. All of those things are what matters and caring is probably the
downfall of all who lose them.” Even in his own conviction of himself, Draco knew that he was
lying.

Ginny’s eyes wavered. He hadn’t sounded as convinced of himself as he had that day six weeks ago
when he’d thrown aside her preaching of love and loyalty as if she were an annoying quill salesman
jutting her big nose into his face stubbornly.

Despite the truth Draco realized, he swallowed the epiphany like a jagged blade and ignored it
as it pierced a trail of fire down his throat. The skin on his forearm was crawling. It was
something that had he’d grown used to lately, as if his flesh were squirming and writhing to escape
the black, inky doom that it would face in three month’s time. He lifted a shaky hand to cover it,
wondering if Ginny could see right through him and praying that the truth wasn’t somewhere on his
face, veiled by his stony eyes or passive manner.

He didn’t realize that his eyes were glued to the spot on his arm that was humming beneath his
hand until pale, skinny fingers overlapped his own and he flashed his gaze over to Ginny’s warming
eyes.

“Are you hurt? Dean didn’t get to you, did he?” She narrowed her eyes and made to lift his hand
to see the spot on his arm he was favoring.

Like a bolt of lightning, Draco’s mind flashed back to his own reality, the place where he made
things make sense, where he knew Ginny Weasley did not belong, where his fate was cold and lonely
and he felt his heart wishing that she could. He seized her hand, throwing it back towards her body
roughly as if his skin burned white hot when her flesh came in contact with it, darkness touched by
light.

“Keep your hands off me, Weasley!” He barked and squeezed his arm more tightly so that blood had
to fight to circulate there.

Ginny clutched her hand to her chest and stared at him with a horrified expression on her
face.

“Draco…” She muttered, utterly taken aback by the frantic glow in his eyes. He breathed in and
out roughly, nearly drowning out the reverberating rain drops falling around them.

“I mean it, Weasley. Stay the hell away from me.”

Ginny felt her heart slamming in her throat. *No…*

Draco grabbed onto his fear and unleashed it in verbal knives, longing to destroy the eyes
before him, filling with liquid pain—eyes that were making things so much harder for him.

“Look, I’m not up for these games anymore. So maybe you should find yourself another mindless
git to sneak around with. I’ve got…responsibilities to take care of and I don’t need a pest like
you messing everything up for me.” His throat was so dry that he could feel the air passing over it
like a breeze over a barren desert.

Ginny stepped back shakily. “I’m not playing any games! What is the matter with you, Draco? Tell
me!” She demanded and glared at him hard enough to make him avert this gaze from hers.

Draco shook his head wearily. “Nothing. I mean…just leave, alright! Just…LEAVE!!” He roared in
her face, his own shaking and rattling beneath his voice.

A pale hand covered Ginny’s mouth as she let his words cut her like glass. She was submerged in
rain again, having stepped out from underneath the canopy in her stupor, though thankful for the
disguising waters that mingled gently with her tears of shock.

“I-I don’t understand…” She whispered. Draco barely heard her over his own strangled cries.

“What’re you just standing there for? I said leave! Get away from me! Go back to your bloody
house and forget you ever knew me! GO!!”

He began to step forward, and Ginny recoiled in fear. In a flurry of tears and red hair matted
by the rain, she flew from the courtyard, nearly tripping in her haste and barely making it back
inside without tumbling to the ground.

She disappeared with one final glance behind her, and for one second she gave Draco another
chance for redemption. In an infinite war, hazel and grey collided, the clang of their souls’
swords drowned out by the beating of their hearts and the pitter-patter of the somber sky above
them. Life ticked once before Ginny turned back around slowly and retreated into the castle.

Draco was shaking. His lips quivered, kissed by rain drops and frozen by the icy words they’d
fired off before. He stepped back slowly until he was beneath the stone canopy again and leaned
against the pillar for support as he felt everything inside of him buckle and collapse, littering
his body with debris and ruin. Beneath the wreckage, shimmering eyes and flame-red hair fought
against the heavy fragments that had been Draco Malfoy as Ginny knew him, and Draco’s hand flew
over his heart to his bare forearm, once again sweeping a layer of ash over the stubborn mirage of
the girl that promised never to leave him.

------------------------------------------------------------------

dun dun dunnnn! I bet you ALL were expecting big fat snog at the end there, weren’t you? oh,
blissful plot twisters! :D I also thought I’d give the famous love-triangle a bit of attention in
this one, as well. expect a bit more on that but not too much. D/G is my #1 priority, of course.
and thank you SO much for all of your wonderful reviews last chapter! they really gave me
inspiration to get going on this chapter so soon. It’s only Wednesday and I’ve already finished!
*pat on the back 4 Adrial!*

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was almost as emotionally draining to write as it was to
read. Poor kids are just a mess of troubles, aren’t they?

hope to hear from you all soon!

Ciao!

~Adrial~

*Song: ’Vindicated’—Dashboard Confessional*




10. Just Hate Me
----------------

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS CONTAINS CONTENT THAT IS NC-17. THE REST SHOULD BE BACK TO PG/PG-13,
BUT I’M NOT MAKING ANY PROMISES.**

AN: Sorry for the longer than usual wait! This chapter was SO difficult to get out. You won’t
believe how many times I started to write, got to about the 5th or 6th page
and then threw it out. But, *phew*, I’ve FINALLY got something worth reading for you guys! :D
Thanks so much for your awesome reviews last chapter! Ciao!

PS: I heard the song for this chapter and realized how PERFECTLY they fit together—it’s almost
downright eerie. Anyways, it’s an awesome song, so download it if you can. : )

****”….”**** = memory

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“To be or not to be a Weasley”

Chapter 10: Just Hate Me

By: Adrial

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*‘I* *wanted you to know I love the way you laugh
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away
I keep your photograph; I know it serves me well
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain

‘Cause I’m broken when I’m open
And I don’t feel like I am strong enough
‘Cause I’m broken when I’m lonesome
And I don’t feel right when you’re gone away

The worst is over now and we can breathe again
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away…*

*There’s so much left to learn, and no one left to fight
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain

‘Cause I’m broken when I’m open
And I don’t feel like I am strong enough
‘Cause I’m broken when I’m lonesome
And I don’t feel right when you’re gone away…’*

*‘Broken’ by: Seether ft. Amy Lee*


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ginny…?” Hermione gently opened the door to Ginny’s dorm, peering through cautiously. Nothing
was out of order—there were books scattered here and there, remnants of last night’s failed attempt
to study; Hermione noted the drawn shades and lack of lamp-light and shivered. Her eyes skimmed the
rest of the room curiously before landing on a barely noticeable bulge on Ginny’s bed. It shifted
suddenly until a mop of red-hair appeared, presenting a dull contrast to the rest of the room
painted in colors only sorrow could wield.

“Ginny…” Hermione sighed and knelt next to her bedside. Ginny hid her face in her pillow, away
from Hermione’s searching brown gaze, feeling a twinge of anger for the girl who had interrupted
her sleep. She’d been so close to actually believing it was all a dream…Merlin, how she longed for
it to all to be some nightmare that she could forget about…his stinging words, his passive
glare…

****“What’re you just standing there for? I said leave! Get away from me! Go back to your
bloody house and forget you ever knew me! GO!!”****

Ginny bit her lip painfully, nearly drawing blood. But she didn’t really want to forget…

“Please, Gin. Talk to me. We’ve been so worried these past few days…” Hermione trailed off,
staring at the muted girl who seemed so incredibly small at that moment, curled up in blankets as
if they were some makeshift barricade from the rest of the world.

“I—I’m…” Ginny buried her head deeper into her covers, “Please, Hermione. Just…go.”

The latter pursed her lips together and contemplated the request. Sighing once more, Hermione
tugged the blankets from around Ginny’s head and tucked them at her sides, though she chose not to
speak just yet.

Ginny squirmed and shivered. She made to pull back the linens, but Hermione grabbed her hands
instead.

“Where did you go, Ginny?” She questioned, narrowing her eyes at the fragile replica of her best
friend. The wall Ginny was facing blurred together as tears filled her eyes. “What did you do with
the old Ginny? What…Merlin, Gin, what *happened* to you?”

Hermione felt the covers trembling; she rubbed a gentle hand over Ginny’s back and listened
painfully as she sobbed quietly. Hermione had so many questions to ask her. Where should she have
started? She glanced around the room once more and noticed a small, leather book on Ginny’s
nightstand. It was opened to the fifth page with Ginny’s swan feathered quill tucked haphazardly in
the valley between pages. There were hastily scribbled words jotted around a picture in the middle,
though Hermione could barely make out the face much less the words in the lightless room. Ginny’s
body was still quaking as Hermione lifted one hand to draw the book from its place. She held it
close enough to be able to see the familiar pale face, the haunting silver eyes, the cocky demeanor
and—

She dropped the book back onto the nightstand. Ginny sniffled again and shifted underneath the
blankets. When she turned to Hermione and noticed the look of astonishment plastered over her face
and the misplaced book, Ginny’s eyes closed against it all.

All Hermione could do was stare at her, eyes alive and bewildered. Malfoy’s face seemed to
penetrate all thoughts however, though not contorted with hate or graced by a smirk. She saw for
the first time the image of him as Ginny had been seeing for two months’ time. She knew then what
had been stealing their Ginny away from them for so long. She knew then who was responsible for
taking away the young girl’s light, her love, her self.

“Ginny…”

But Ginny merely shook her head. “Don’t worry, Hermione. I’ve forgotten him—he’s only a memory
now.”

Hermione searched Ginny’s liquid hazel orbs for a long moment. She was still getting over the
fact that Ginny actually had something about Malfoy to *forget*. How could she have missed
it?

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were…that you two…God, Gin, I can’t even bloody fathom any of
this.” She shook her head.

Ginny laughed bitterly, and Hermione did not appreciate the change. “We were never together,
Hermione, if that’s what you’re thinking. No…we weren’t ever….”

Hermione felt her nerves ease. “Then what…what *were* you?”

Ginny didn’t answer for a while; she fiddled with the lint on her cover. Finally, she met
Hermione’s gaze with eyes of fierce resolution.

“I’m not even sure, Hermione. But like I said…it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve forgotten all
about that bloody bastard. To hell with Draco Malfoy.”

In Hermione’s deep confusion of the situation, she silently nodded. She didn’t need the details
to know that as Ginny tried to hard to make her words seem truthful, she was lying.

But Ginny believed herself, despite Hermione’s thoughts. She knew the minute she’d stumbled back
into the castle, dripping with rain and reeling with pain that she would do everything in her power
to forget that Draco Malfoy had ever existed. She spent two days locked in her room, hating herself
and damning him to hell. She realized how much time she had wasted on a hopeless soul, how many
hours of her life had been given to him only to have them thrown back in her face. She’d cared for
him, the sick bastard with his mocking scorn and heartless eyes. She would have given him her
heart. She was so close, but she didn’t even realize it. She was so close, but *he* didn’t
even realize it.

But it wasn’t too late to start over. She was going to get her life back. She began by wrapping
Hermione in a warm hug.

“I’ll be downstairs in a few, alright?” She said as she released her and crawled out of bed. Her
legs were shaky as if the feel of solid ground beneath her feet was foreign.

Hermione watched her slowly make her way to the washroom. After the door clicked behind her, she
picked up the journal once again. Malfoy’s face smiled back at her, though it came out somewhat
lopsided and odd-looking, as if he wasn’t quite used to the sensation yet. She felt her heart
twinge, knowing who was responsible for that.

“Did you love him, Ginny?” She whispered to the darkness. In the picture, Draco’s eyes lit up
and his mouth opened with silent laughter as Ginny popped into the frame, holding the camera with
one hand as she tried to crack the mold that was Draco’s hair with the other.

“*Do* you love him…?” She touched her lips with her hand and set the book back down.
Sighing, she walked towards the door and left Ginny’s room in silence.

Leaning against the bathroom door, Ginny exhaled heavily once she heard her door click shut. She
shoved off the cool wood and walked over to the three sink countertop. She ran the faucet and
stared at the icy water as it splashed into the porcelain bowl. A shiver snuck down her spine, and
she shook her head, dipping her hands into the chilling water.

She gasped from shock as she threw the cupped liquid over her face and massaged her temples; the
rejuvenation ran through her veins like electricity. After she patted her face dry with a soft
towel, she met her reflection for the first time in what seemed like years. Dull hazel eyes stared
back at her, framed by tangled auburn hair and subdued freckles that stuck here and there as if
hanging onto her sullen skin for dear life. With a sigh, she ran a comb roughly through her
rebellious locks.

*Well, Gin…looks like it’s time for some damage control.*

Frowning resolutely, she jammed the lock on the door into place and ran the shower. She wouldn’t
hide forever. She would learn to forget and she would learn how to live with*out* Draco
*bloody* Malfoy.

---------------------One month later----------------------------

“Hey! Have you seen her?”

“Aye, mate. She’s changed quite a bit lately hasn’t she? Bet she’d make a fine wizard outta
me.”

“Watch’er, Thompson. With that bloke of a brother she’s got, you’d be lucky to lay a finger on
her cloaks.”

“That’s not all I’d like to lay a finger on, if you know what I’m getting’ at.” The chubby sixth
year chortled loudly and gestured suggestively with his hands exactly *where* he intended on
violating the subject of nearly every young wizard’s conversation at Hogwarts lately.

The two boys walking with him laughed along, until one of them sniffed.

“Oy…what’s that burning? Reckon the houselves have finally revolted and they’ve got Snape in
there preparing the dinner?” The trio laughed and rounded another corner.

The smell of smoke persisted however, until a squeal shook the corridor.

“**BLOODY HELL!** **I’M ON FIRE!! I’M ON BLOODY FIRE!!”**

Donald Thompson flailed around frantically, flinging his books onto the ground and making quite
a show out of hopping up and down on tip-toes. The hem of his robes crackled as fire slowly crept
up his legs. His two companions chuckled heartily, though obligingly leant him a hand in putting
out the flames by beating his bouncing legs with their book bags.

“Ouch! You bloody gits! Watch where you’re hittin’, will ya?!”

The two shrugged and continued to beat his legs in with their belongings. A few fifth year
Ravenclaws giggled as they passed, and the boys quit their assault on their inflamed friend to grin
charmingly at them. The latter gasped and smacked them on the backs of their heads.

“Oy! Remember **me**, you morons? I’m the one *ON FIRE!!!* Bloody hell, what if I could
DIE? **I DON’T WANNA DIIIEEE!!”**

Several meters behind them, Draco Malfoy was tucking his wand back into his robes and scowling
deeply at the ground. Though he did feel somewhat satisfied at having scared the knickers off the
kid, his fingers still itched to throw another good hex or two in his direction.

*I’ve got to stop doing this…* He attempted for the umpteenth time to convince himself of
this, but just like in the past, he quickly reminded himself that he was merely doing his duties as
a responsible prefect—to keep filth like perverted little Hufflepuffs in line and in their place.
At least he’d been decent enough to give that one git last week the counter curse for his
immaculately aimed shrinking hex. That had been more due to male obligations than sympathy,
however, it did teach the boy never to ask girls to Hogsmeade ever again—at least in the
hallways.

*Where does that bloody girl get off acting as she does, anyways?* He shook his head hard
before storming into the Great Hall. He couldn’t believe the way she strutted around, giggling
around all of her obnoxious little friends, flipping that ruddy hair of hers like she had the right
to or something, parading as if she was some type of, well…*girl*, or something.

And a beautiful one at that, Draco couldn’t help but notice. The only part that got to him was
that he wasn’t the *only one* who had noticed a change in Ginny Weasley over the past few
weeks. If he’d known that sending her away would have turned her into some sultry little bint with
swinging hips and a vixen’s grin, he would have sent her away just the same—only it would have been
to a different school, an *all girls* school at that.

Draco plopped a portion of food onto his plate unceremoniously and dug in. *Damn her!* Just
as he was tearing through a chicken leg, the very subject of his frustration sauntered right
through the giant doors, flanked on either side by Harriet-what’s-her-face and
Jody-something-or-the-other. Draco didn’t really care. He locked his eyes on her as she swished her
little hips all the way to the Gryffindor table and took a seat next to—

“Thomas!” Draco inhaled and suddenly began gagging as the chicken lodged itself in his
throat.

“Draco! Draco, what’s the matter?!” Pansy rushed over to him and began beating his back
frantically. “Drackie, what did you do?!” She pounded harder until Draco stopped pointing madly at
his throat and a golf-ball sized lump of poultry flew across the table, landing with a splash in
Goyle’s pumpkin juice.

He glanced at the rippling juice in his goblet before picking it up and gulping it down in one
swig. A grin appeared over his face as he grunted approval and dumped a forkful of chicken breast
into Crabbe’s juice before tipping his fat head back and downing the entire thing. With a loud
belch, he rubbed his belly.

“Yum.”

Draco wiped a hand over his mouth disgustedly and shook off Pansy as she fretted over every inch
of him. He’d caused quite a scene it seemed and nearly every head was turned in his direction.

He looked around him, glaring into every snickering face or sympathetic frown until he locked
his eyes with a pair of familiar hazel flames.

Ginny tore her eyes away from Malfoy’s and concentrated hard on her plate of food. She noted
with a flutter of her stomach that it was becoming easier with each day to do so—to pretend as if
he never existed.

Dean rested a possessive arm around her shoulders, and she felt her insides cringe. She didn’t
have to look up to hear the retreating stomps of Draco’s shoes as he stormed out of the Great Hall
and out of sight. Biting her lip, Ginny shrugged off Dean’s oppressive arm and ignored his scoff of
disapproval.

A few seats over and across from them, Hermione twirled her fork into her mashed potatoes,
catching the scene with careful speculation. Harry’s hand nestled itself on to her knee and she
wrapped her free one over it, giving it a squeeze.

*Hang in there, Gin…* She silently implored the younger girl. True, Ginny had been taking
full advantage of the traits Mother Genetics had bestowed upon her lately; her hair was glossier
and her cheeks flushed with a healthy glow even in the most dismal of atmospheres. But Hermione
knew to look deeper than the charming smile and ready-at-will twinkling eyes that had been stealing
the attention of countless boys for the past month.

She glanced at Harry briefly and offered him a small smile. His emerald eyes sparkled with the
candles glittering in the massive room and he winked playfully at her. Hermione rolled her eyes and
reached for her goblet. As she wrapped her fingers around it, another larger hand rested on top of
her hers, and she flashed her gaze up to meet familiar blue eyes.

Ron’s mouth upturned in a lopsided something—she couldn’t call it a smile, though she was close
to deeming it a grimace. He tore his fingers off of hers as if struck by lightening and quickly
aimed for another goblet. Harry was completely oblivious to the scene, having been engaged in an
animated conversation with a newly arrived Hagrid about the upcoming match against Slytherin.

Hermione’s heart clenched at the cold eyes Ron had met her with. He still wouldn’t speak to
either of them, but Hermione could see the slow but sure glimpses of the old Ron every once in a
while, whether it was in his gluttony or the way he’d bicker with her during classes (from his new
seat *across* the room) over potion recipes or transfiguration techniques, just as he would
have a month of ago over her nagging rituals or the frizziness of her hair. She grabbed onto those
moments with all her might, praying that one day he would be completely back, and maybe their world
would begin to turn steadily again for the three of them.

In a domino effect, heads turned down the Gryffindor table as Minerva McGonagall rushed speedily
towards it, suddenly pausing in front of a certain familiar group.

“Ronald, Ginevra…please come with me.” She nodded at them gravely and did not wait for either to
follow before briskly exiting the Great Hall. Ron and Ginny exchanged worried glances before
rushing after her, leaving curious eyes to watch.

In McGonagall’s office, she leaned on her cane heavily and looked at them silently for a
moment.

“Professor…what’s going on?” Ginny uttered, noting the tired expression on the older woman’s
face.

McGonagall blinked a few times and then spoke. “I’m afraid that there was a raid at the ministry
two nights ago. Arth—your father was the only one to make it out unscathed.”

A hand flew to Ginny’s mouth. “*What?* What happened? Where is he? He’ll be alright,
though, won’t he?” She searched McGonagall’s eyes desperately for answers. The latter merely held
up a hand to silence her.

“It appears that three unidentified death eaters are on the prowl, fresh out of dementor
territory and unwilling to take prisoners. So far their attacks have been unmerciful and
unstoppable. Your father just barely escaped by Disapparition just before the trio sent up
anti-Disapparating shields. Several others tried…unfortunately, most were either splinched or
forced to remain and suffer their untimely—“ She stopped abruptly, realizing who exactly she was
speaking to. Ginny’s eyes were horrified, and Ron’s face was a mask of stone.

Ginny stared at her brother for what seemed like hours, biting back tears of relief that her
father had been alright and aching to run home and hang on to him for dear life.

“I know that you must be reeling from this, but your parents have asked specifically for you to
stay here where you are safe. Your mother should be sending word by owl in one or two days. I—“
McGonagall had paused there, unable to go on as Ginny threw herself against her brother’s chest,
her own racking with sobs, and he wrapped comforting arms around his baby sister.

It would be hours at best before news of the raid broke through the school’s protective stone
walls. Ginny gasped into Ron’s chest, never feeling so scared in all her life for her family. It
had been the second attack on her father in less than a year—what if the next time he wasn’t so
fortunate?

McGonagall excused them to leave and sighed heavily against the door frame as they did so. That
had been the third set of students this week she had had to break terrible news to. The eerie calm
before the storm was finally being shattered. At least the Weasleys had been lucky enough not to
lose someone completely.

“For now…” Minerva whispered hauntingly as she watched the two red heads retreat silently to
their common room.

Later that night, the grandfather clock in Gryffindor’s common room stroked twelve times as
Ginny slipped through the portrait hole and out of sight; the need to escape was too great.

Ginny nearly sprinted down the changing stairs. Her breaths came out fast and labored, as if
gravity was crushing her lungs. *One more corridor…* She chanted the phrase and rounded the
last corner, then up a flight of winding stairs, past creeping shadows, up and up until finally she
faced a familiar wooden door—the place she’d promised herself she would never go back to for fear
that the memories held within it would be too much to bear.

Ginny carefully pushed the door open. As the hinges squeaked their disapproval at having been
forced to move after so long, she wrapped her arms around herself and walked silently forward.

Craning her neck, she closed her eyes against the starry night and breathed the0 fresh air in
slow gulps. In the middle of the room, the soft grass seemed to beckon her, and she fell to her
knees upon it as if bowing to a throne, chin on her chest and hands flat on her knees. Eventually,
her breaths became even again, and she curled up on the ground, face raised to the blinking
beauties above her.

She’d needed to escape so badly from the world then, but the one person who had always been
there to shield her way wasn’t there now. She shuttered a sigh and squinted her eyes. She’d be
damned if she was going to miss him now. Not after she’d been doing so well without him.

Gazing up at the sky, she quickly spotted the blinking body of Venus and a rebellious smile
broke upon her face, bringing a memory fresh to her mind. Despite the fact that she was doing
exactly what she had been fighting against for so long, Ginny could not contain the nostalgia that
enveloped her mind as she allowed herself to remember.

*****“A knut for your thoughts, Draco?”* *Ginny grinned and slid next to him on the
ground as he lay on his back silently, staring at the simulated night sky.*

*Smirking, he answered. “For these? You’re going to have to do better than a knut. Five
galleons, Weasel, and not a piece less.”*

*Ginny rolled her eyes and joined him. “Prat,” she mumbled.*

*“I’ve been studying for an astronomy test next week,” He explained, pointing a long finger
towards the middle of the sky where a bright golden star blinked at them. “That one’s
Venus.”*

*Ginny nodded silently. “Ever wished on a star before, Malfoy?” She skimmed the scenery for
any such object, waiting for him to answer negatively.*

*Draco gave her a sideways glance. “Course I have, Weasley. But mine usually come true. For
instance, the time when I wished I would get a bigger bedroom at my parent’s estate. The old one
was so small, that I could barely fit the 120 inch wireless in the hole. Mother had it taken care
of the very next day.”*

*Ginny rolled over onto her side and stared at him disbelievingly. “Give me a bloody break,
Malfoy.” She playfully shoved his shoulder until a smile snuck onto his face.*

*“What? What else would be worth wishing for? Oh,” Draco laughed mockingly, “Let me guess.
You’ve been wishing for some knight in shining armor to come and whisk you off to Never Never land,
haven’t you?”*

*Ginny ignored him and scoffed, “Of course not, you git.” Suddenly her eyes lit up brightly
with mischief, “I was wishing for the day when I could befriend the most unlikely prat ever to walk
the face of the earth and teach him how to smile.”*

*Draco faced her, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean?” Ginny raised her eyebrows and
reached out to tickle his sides. Immediately, Draco began to laugh, filling the room with his
sonorous chuckles and sending a rush of butterflies loose in Ginny’s stomach.*

*“Like that!” She giggled loudly, releasing her fingers from his sides. Still chuckling, Draco
looked at her through dancing eyes of grey.*

*“Well, then I guess wishes do come true, Weaslette.”*

*Ginny nodded, smiling still. She was so close that he could smell the natural scent of her
skin, and his musky cologne made logic a bit harder for Ginny to grasp. Their fingers brushed
against each other as they lay closely on their sides. Ginny rubbed her thumb over his knuckles,
and he let her, drawing her hand closer to his chest. Nameless emotions raced through their eyes.
Ginny’s warm gaze faltered as his face drew nearer. She’d never wanted anything so badly in her
life than to have his lips pressed against her own. Warm and comforting, not icy and heartless like
the first time he’d tried.*

*Her eyes fluttered shut. Just a bit more…just one more inch. But it was not meant to be. A
gentle creak crashed through the moment, tearing them apart as they scrambled into standing
positions. Mrs. Norris’ bright yellow eyes blinked at the two from the doorway and they both sighed
in relief, though neither would admit that they were actually doing it out of frustration.*

*Draco ran a hand through his hair absently and looked at Ginny uncomfortably with a small
smile.*

*“Keep wishing, Ginny. Maybe one day you will find your prince charming.”*

*Ginny watched him leave silently, placing her hand over her heart. In that moment, a shooting
star streaked across the sky overhead, but Ginny needn’t have bothered wishing on it.*

*“Maybe, Draco…” She touched her lips gently, “Maybe I already have.”*****

In the present, a similar noise disrupted Ginny’s thoughts, and she sprinted up from the ground
in a flash, raising a hand defensively over her heart.

“Who’s there…?” Ginny turned speculative eyes towards the doorway that was slightly ajar. The
billow of cloaks startled her and the glint of platinum hair widened her eyes; two pale hands
visible beneath black robes caused her to take a few steps back.

“You.”

Draco shrugged nonchalantly, though his own heart was beating wildly.

“That’s right, Weaslette. Me.”

Ginny’s stomach churned, and her knees felt weak as she prayed that he hadn’t seen her laying
there wishing he was with her. She had to get away.

“Leave me be, Draco.” She implored him bitingly and turned her back against him, stalking over
to a bench in the farthest corner of the room.

There was silence until she thought he’d finally left and turned around slowly. But he was still
there, standing motionless and rigid as if moving was beyond his capabilities.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy? I thought this is what you wanted.”

Draco shifted slightly and looked at the ground. He’d watched her for weeks now, seen her
change, listened for her laughter in a hallway full of babbling students, searched for a fleck of
auburn in a sea of blondes and brunettes, but now that he was face-to-face with her, he couldn’t
find anything to say. She was still in his mind just as she was *that day*, laced with rain,
eyes wide and disbelieving.

His mind swam with things to say, to do, to make her forget he’d ever said what he’d said.
Finally, Ginny could no longer take his silence and stormed across the room to face him, inches
from his chest.

“What-do-you-*want*, Malfoy?” She spat in his face, eyes ablaze.

Draco met her gaze with a fierce one of his own, but as much as his lips fought to be opened and
shout to her his soul, he kept them shut tightly, quivering in rebellion.

“Ginny…?”

They flashed their gazes towards the door at the same time. For the first time
in…well…*ever*, Ginny was relieved to see Dean Thomas’ clean-shaven face.

“Dean, erm, hello. I was just coming to look for you.” Ginny smiled winsomely and walked over to
the doorway to wrap an arm around his.

Draco felt something inside of him light with a burning rage he’d never experienced until the
day he’d seen the very ingrate that now wrapped possessive arms around Ginny try to force himself
on her five weeks prior.

Dean glared at Draco. “Has he been bothering you, Gin?”

Ginny shook her head slowly, “No. He was just lost is all. I hope you find your way back to
where you belong, Malfoy.” She laid heavy emphasis on *where you belong*, something Draco
noticed easily*.*

He nodded numbly. Dean gave him another glare, but Draco couldn’t bring himself to lash back at
him or rip his face to shreds like every inch of him was eager to do. No…he wouldn’t do that. The
familiar part of his mind tingled to life, the one in which he had clung to before to send the girl
before him away, and he grasped onto it now with all his might.

“Goodnight, Weasley. See you on the pitch this Saturday.” And he brushed past them, refusing to
look Ginny in the eye but willing to press upon Dean the vilest of sneers he could conjure. The
latter shivered involuntarily and Draco smirked.

Once he’d left, Ginny felt like groaning in frustration. Now she was stuck with this bloody
imbecile.

“I’m going back to bed, Dean. I only came here to look for my potions book, but I suppose it’s
back in my dorm. Goodnight.”

Dean grabbed her wrist tightly, “I don’t think Malfoy was lost, Ginny. I think he was looking
for you. Stay away from him, will you?”

Ginny stared at him for a moment before tearing her arm from his grip. “I’ve told you before,
Thomas. I can take care of myself.”

“Just promise me you’ll stay away from him, Gin.” Dean looked at her through pleading blue eyes,
“I don’t fancy the way he looks at you sometimes…as if…well, like he *wants* you or
something.”

Ginny shook her head defiantly as if he were crazy, but inside her heart was jumping and her
stomach was flipping.

“I’m serious, Gin. He’s bad news, that Malfoy. He’s got the dark mark coming to him one way or
the other—Don’t forget who his father is, Gin.” He failed to note the glint spark in Ginny’s eyes
as he continued. “I’ve heard his mum’s been shipped off to Mungo’s already—too off her rocker to
carry on without her precious Voldemort fodder of a husband.” He chuckled briefly before Ginny
slammed her fist against his chest to shove him away.

“And just what do *you* know, Dean? Have you ever spoken to him before? You must have spent
hours or even days with him and his family to be able to know them all so bloody damn well,
right?!” Ginny’s eyes sparked at him, and he stepped back at her outburst.

“I—“

“I didn’t think so!” Ginny shoved him out of her way and ran from the room. Where did he get off
speaking about people like that, anyway? What *did* he know?

*Nothing!* Ginny stormed through the halls, ignorant of the shadow that followed her
curiously. She stopped for breath near a window and leaned against the already frosty glass
heavily. Her energy was spent.

As she stared out on the grounds, something caught her eye in the reflection. Familiar grey eyes
stared back at her from around a corner. Not wanting to scare him away, Ginny casually lifted
herself from her seat and made to retreat down the corridor once again. As she rounded the corner,
she noticed a door ajar and slipped through.

“I know you’re in here, Malfoy. Stop being such a bloody coward and come out.”

The shadows stirred and Malfoy came up slowly behind her.

“Come to sniff me out, Weasel?”

Ginny gasped and whirled around to face him. “More like come to ask what you think you’ve been
doing following me around lately. I thought you’d made yourself perfectly clear that you wanted
nothing to do with me anymore.”

Draco leaned against the all casually and shrugged. “I’ve no idea as to what you’re going on
about, Weasel. But I must ask that you don’t flatter yourself.” Draco frowned mockingly, “Oh, but
do send my regards to your father. I bet he hid like a coward in his little rat hole of an office
that day, didn’t he? Is that how he made it out alive?”

“You *unbelievable* bastard,” Ginny ground out. How could she have ever befriended such a
slimy, horrible person? How could she have thought she…that she felt for him as more than just a
friend? Had she really been willing to give him her heart? Had could she have been so thick? So
naïve?

Draco advanced on her, continuing despite her declaration. “Do you think he *begged* the
death eaters to let him live? To be able to go home to his miserable house and nagging wife? Or
perhaps to spend another day in his worthless job, biding his time until he got his own?”

Ginny put everything she had into the slap that pummeled Draco’s face. Her hand vibrated from
the force of the blow, and Draco was sent reeling.

“Go to hell, Malfoy! Take your sorry, useless arse and burn until the demons can’t even bear to
look at your ugly, rotten face!” Her lips were quivering as she cried out in front of him. Tears of
rage sparkled in the corners of her eyes; despise glared through the hazel depths.

But she would not feel sympathy for the person who had spoken so heartlessly to her. She didn’t
know this person. She hadn’t befriended a cold, cruel Malfoy. And she wouldn’t pity one either.

“Whatever you do, Malfoy,” She walked towards him as he breathed deeply against the wall, hand
pressed against his stinging cheek, “I advise you never to speak to me again. Don’t come within
fifty feet of me, my brother, or my friends, unless you want me to do things to you that your
dearest daddy couldn’t even *dream* of,“ She hissed at him, daring him to retaliate.

Draco merely stared at her and lifted himself up straight. In the darkness, the fire inside of
Ginny burned beneath her skin and through her eyes. Draco clenched his fists and said nothing as
she stalked past him and through the door. At the last moment she turned around once again, face
masked by scorn.

“I’ll see *you* at the match on Saturday, Malfoy. I do hope you’ve been practicing.”

Draco watched her leave, and once he was certain she was gone, he sighed heavily and leaned
against the wall once again, gingerly massaging his cheek.

*Go on, Ginny. Hate me. Please…just hate me.*

~~~~~~~~~~

Draco tore through another dark corridor; his shadow was swallowed by the inky walls as they
stalked the grumbling slytherin as if he was prey. Once he’d barged through the Slytherin common
room, not even noticing the figure who sat alone on one of the leather arm chairs, he stormed into
his bedroom and threw himself at his massive, mahogany desk. Papers and ink wells went flying as he
swept a furious arm across the surface, reveling in the sound of glass breaking.

A small gasp shook him from his rage, and he whirled around. Pansy stared at him from his
doorway, brown eyes wide.

“Draco…?” She entered cautiously, stepping up to him still in her school uniform. She’d been
waiting all night for him to return.

Draco glared at her. She considered turning, but the sight of him riled up and enraged sparked
lust in her eyes. Perhaps her little dragon had come back again.

Sidling up next to him, she ran a pale hand over his cheek. Draco flinched at her touch but did
not move. His chest heaved laboriously as she stroked the red hand-print that was still aching.

“My poor, little dragon…” Pansy whispered and craned her neck to lay a soft kiss on his cheek.
Draco closed his eyes, feeling something inside of him urge him to respond to her soft caresses.
When he opened them again, he saw the want burning in her gaze, the ever-present will to please,
the piteous need to serve him.

Pansy rubbed his shoulders tenderly and stepped back to close the door softly. When she came up
to him again, the sudden rumble of thunder shook the window sill, and she gasped. A gentle sneer
formed on her face and she laughed. “Remember our first time, Draco?” She whispered against his
ear, nibbling on his lobe seductively.

Draco reached up to push her away, but his hands stopped on her forearms as she wrapped her own
around his neck and trailed heated kisses down the side of his throat.

“I was so scared…all alone in the common room…it had been storming for hours…” She paused and
captured his lips with her own. “But you came then…you led me here…”

Draco closed his eyes again and replayed the scene through his mind. They had both been
virgins.

“I want to relive that night, Draco…please, let’s just forget about the past few months.” She
urged him with her eager lips to comply. Stepping back, she began to unbutton her shirt until she
was standing before him just as she had nearly a year ago, half naked and wholly willing.

Draco stared at her blankly, though his body ached for her touch again. It had been so long…
Would it really hurt to have her again?

Pansy walked over to his bedside table and made quick work of putting out the lamp. Encased by
darkness, she walked over to him and eased him onto his satin sheets, straddling his waist with her
legs.

“I’ve missed you, Dragon…tell me you’ve missed me, too…” She leaned over his chest and removed
his white oxford expertly. Before he responded, she began planting kisses all over his bare
chest.

“Tell me, little dragon…tell me how you’ve missed my touch…” She sucked the skin over the top of
his black pants and began to unclasp the belt.

Draco inhaled as she unzipped them and explored the evidence of his raging emotions.

*This isn’t right…*Draco’s mind screamed.

He tried to tell her to get off of him, but a groan left his lips instead as she slipped his
boxers down.

“I—“ He grunted and reached for the top of her head. But instead of pushing her mouth farther
down his erection, he shoved it back. “I can’t, Pansy.”

“What?” Pansy sat back and searched his eyes inquisitively. “You’re not serious, are you,
Draco?”

He only lifted her off of his hips and stood up rapidly, pulling up his pants in the
process.

“Leave.”

Pansy crawled to the edge of the bed but did not get off. “Draco…what’s the matter with you?
Look at me!” She cried and pulled his arm to make him face her. When he did, his eyes were dark and
pained.

“There’s someone else, isn’t there?” She uttered the question more to herself than to him. When
he made no reply, she lowered her gaze. “I suppose the rumors are true then…” She crawled off of
the cool sheets and retrieved her clothing.

Draco watched her dress and walk towards the door silently. As she turned the door knob, Pansy
turned back to him.

“I do hope you know what you’re doing, Draco, because I *know* the secret that you’re
hiding, and *you know* what the consequences of your actions will be.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her as she left. Her declaration was startling, but he couldn’t quite
understand it completely. Sighing, he plopped down onto his bed and rested his head in his hands.
In the back of his mind, an angelic face filtered into his thoughts. With a growl, he threw himself
onto his sheets and stuffed his face in a pillow.

As Ginny’s face refused to leave, he finally knew what Pansy had meant. And the repercussions
*would* be dire. Thunder roared over his thoughts until he was finally sent into a fitful
sleep, marked by dark shadows and winds made of fire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere in a place vermin wouldn't even dare reside, a wizard clothed in black bowed
before a towering figure. A wave of glinting silver hair fanned out over his bowed head as he knelt
before his master.

"My Lord…he is aware of his fate."

"But is he willing, Luciusss?"

"My son has been preparing for this moment his entire life. He is eager to receive the same
honor that you have bestowed upon me, my Lord."

"And the woman? Have you taken care of her?"

"She is of no threat to us, my Lord. I've had her sent away to northern
Europe."

"Luciusss, you wouldn't be…protecting her…would you?"

The bowing man tensed slightly but did not miss a beat. "I am merely keeping a threat to my
son's future at bay until he has fulfilled his destiny."

"I ssseee…and when will my newest follower be arriving?"

"In December, my Lord."

"Excellent, Luciusss. You have served me well."

"Thank you, my Lord. It is and will always be my privilege to serve."

"Of course…as it is mine to give orders." A menacing chuckle filled the air, making
the hairs on Lucius' neck stand on end. The Dark Lord bent back his head, revealing a face
unfit to see the light of day as he laughed sinisterly.

On his knees, Lucius Malfoy slowly grinned. *Soon…so very soon, Draco.* *You will join
me*.

In his bed, tangled in linen, Draco cringed and subconsciously coiled a hand around his forearm
protectively. The storm raged on outside even as the sun attempted to rise, and Voldemort laughed
on, mocking the new day as it approached.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: Ta Da! I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are encouraged and MUCHLY appreciated! The end is
drawing nearer. Hehe…ciao!

~Adrial~



11. Fall
--------

“To be or not to be a Weasley”

By: Adrial

Chapter 11: Fall

**AN: First of all, I’m so sorry about all the confusion with this chapter. I thought I’d
finished with it around midnight on Tuesday, but I woke up this morning to realize that I’d
uploaded a different version of ch.11—one that hadn’t been changed the way I’d wanted yet. So that
explains why it was up on Tuesday and yanked off on Wednesday. I’ve been gone all day helping my
sister with her wedding plans so I’m just getting around to uploading the correct chapter. Sorry
again for the confusion, you guys! (side note: the previous version was named “truth”, but I
changed titles at the last minute).**

**Hope you like!**

@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~

*Everything's so blurry
And everyone's so fake
And everybody's empty
And everything is so messed up
Pre-occupied without you
I cannot live at all
My whole world surrounds you
I stumble then I crawl
You could be my someone
You could be my scene
You know that I'll protect you
From all of the obscene
I wonder what you're doing
Imagine where you are
There's oceans in between us
But that's not very far

Can you take it all away?
Can you take it all away?
When you shoved it in my face
This pain you gave to me
Can you take it all away?
Can you take it all away?
When you shoved in my face*

*This pain you gave to me…*

*Oh,
Nobody told me what you thought
Nobody told me what to say
Everyone showed you where to turn
Told you where to run away
Nobody told you where to hide
Nobody told you what to say
Everyone showed you where to turn
Showed you where to run away…*

*“Blurry” By: Puddle of Mudd*

@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~

Ginny grinned as the tail end of her broom smashed beautifully into the back of an unsuspecting
Slytherin beater, eliciting a howl of pain from underneath his heavy folds of green and silver and
the shrill screech of Madame Hooch’s whistle.

“PENALTY SHOT! **WEASLEY!** **KEEP IT CLEAN OR YOU’LL BE JOINING FLINT IN THE LOCKER ROOM
FOR THE REST OF THE SEASON!”** She blew twice more for good measure and gave Ginny a heavy glare
before rising up into the air to witness the very chaser Ginny had nearly managed to knock off of
his broom wham the quaffle towards the Gryffindor goal that a scowling Ron was currently
keeping.

*Oops…* Ginny bit her lip, though she didn’t have any sympathy for the smarmy beater who
had been hot on her tail since the beginning of the match, blocking every attempt she made to
retrieve the quaffle and nearly causing her to kiss hard packed earth at least five times within
the last ten minutes.

“Damn!” Ginny swore and punched the air as the quaffle just skimmed the top of Ron’s finger
tips, scoring the Slytherins another ten points and putting them in the lead by twenty. In a rush
of heated exclamations, the game commenced, and Ginny could see Harry zooming above the game,
emerald eyes seeking for their salvation and the end to one of the most intense games any of them
had ever played. The faint *zoom-zooming* of quaffles and brooms registered in Ginny’s mind
and she shook herself out of her furious reverie, forcing herself back into the game.

In an instant, she set off after a Slytherin chaser who was in possession and dodged bludgers as
she went, the roar of passing wind droning out the sounds of panting players’ urgent shouts to one
another and the incessant buzz of the crowd.

“Not so fast, you!” She yelled, successfully stealing the quaffle by circling the player until
he was dizzy and loosened his grip. But it was as she switched directions and started her trek back
to the opposite end of the field that she saw it—the pale blue glint of a spell aimed straight for
Harry’s back as he moved into a dead-man’s dive for a golden glint at the bottom of a green sea. He
seemed totally unaware as the jet of light caught him square between his shoulders and turned him
flying in the opposite direction as if he’d just decided to change course all of the sudden.

But Ginny knew better. She instantly flashed her gaze back to where Harry had been previously
heading and saw a blur of black speeding toward the ground. She noted the platinum glint of Draco’s
hair, heard the intake of breath from the crowd, and felt her heart drop as he closed a gloved hand
around the snitch and arched skillfully out of his dive, a triumphant smirk set upon his face made
of stone.

“No!” She cried.

Suddenly, like sharks enticed by the smell of blood, blurs of scarlet zoomed past her, sending
her hair flying as they raced towards the cluster of Slytherin celebrators. Ginny strained to hear
the commentary, wondering if the teachers were coming, and with a deep lurch in the pit of her
stomach, whether or not Draco would make it out alive.

*But that shouldn’t matter!* She growled at herself loudly, though no one could have
possibly noticed over the great rumbling storm that was striking down upon the celebrating
Slytherins at that moment. She caught one glimpse of the commentator and had to muffle her cry of
frustration.

Lee Jordan’s successor, Alfred Fledgling, was a red-faced, pimply fifth year Hufflepuff with a
zest for harassing younger co-eds and hogging the bathroom for hours on end to sing show tunes
while plucking his nose hairs—or so Ginny had heard. He also knew as much about quidditch
comprehension as Ron did when it came to ancient runes.

In the commentator’s seat, he wiped a soiled hand across his face, smearing pumpkin pasty across
his chin and cleared his throat thickly. Wrapping a sticky hand around the microphone, he tried to
decipher exactly what was going on and why Ronald Weasley was currently leading the contest for
most the colorful scheme of swear words ever displayed in Hogwarts’ History.

“Erm…penalty shot again?” He shrugged daftly and stuffed another pasty into his rapidly filling
mouth.

A massive groan rippled through the stands, and he gulped.

“Guess not…um, well…has a seeker been injured, then?”

“Hey, Fledgling! Get that pumpkin gunk out of your ears and pay attention, would you?!” An angry
cry elicited from the Gryffindor stands.

“Oops, sorry. I guess, erm...that means…*Slytherin* *loses*!” He raised his hands in
cheer, though befuddled as to why no one was joining in with him. Narrowing two squinty brown eyes
towards the quidditch green, he tried to figure out how both teams had ended up on the ground,
chests bumped against one another and fists flying in all directions. Two bushy eyebrows furrowed
deeply.

“Has there been a draw, then?”

Luckily, his lack of observational skills was lost upon the crowd as their attention was held
steadfast upon the pitch, pale faces flashing with worry, shock, excitement, and for those clad in
silver and green, malicious satisfaction.

“Somebody get Dumbledore!”

“They’re going to kill each other!”

“Look at ‘em go!”

“That’s right, Ron! Sock it to that slimy oaf!”

“Look at the blood!”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Oy! Look a’ that!

“It’s Weasley! What’s she doing up in the air again?”

“ORDER! ORDER!! **I *DEMAND* ORDER ON THE FIELD!!”**

But any chance of order was totally lost as the crowd closed in on the circle of
Gryffindor/Slytherin battles. Madam Hooch skirted the outside of the fray, whistle blowing and
hands flying in all directions. Her wand was forgotten in the folds of her cloaks, but at the rate
things were going, she would have been lucky to get in a good shot at the instigators without
taking out the entire teams in the process.

Ginny flew high above the mess, her eyes locked in their gaze with a flyer who hovered just
above her, coyly jostling the skittering snitch between his fingers.

“My, my, Weasley. Seems as if you Gryffindors need to work on your losing skills. You’ll all die
from lack of blood, otherwise.”

Ginny glared back at him, wishing she had the barbarity to spit or the muscle to pound the smirk
off of his face.

“You’re lucky I don’t curse you off your broom right now, Malfoy! You know cheating isn’t
allowed.” She gritted her teeth, ready to wage verbal warfare against the current bane of her
existence.

“Oh, and what’s a little weasel like you going to do about it, eh? Rat me out, are you?” Draco
chuckled and leaned against the air casually, legs slung over the side of his broom as if it were a
throne and he its deity.

“Fortunately for you, Malfoy, I have more class than that,” Ginny met him with another
penetrating gaze that quickly dissolved into a sly grin on her wind-flushed face, “However, my
teammates don’t.” She laughed mockingly before flying back down to the ground to save the rest of
her team from numerable law suits.

A shadow fell over Draco as he scowled back at the retreating red-head. What had she meant? No
one had seen him throw that hex but her anyway.

….*Right?* He felt a cold chill run down his spine as uneven wisps of air blew at the hair
on the base of his neck. *Damn!*

He quickly spun around, drawing his wand out defensively, and met a pair of blue eyes laced by a
fire he’d only seen once before.

“Well if it isn’t Senior Weasel here to defend his pathetic excuse for a team. Might I express
my condolences for your most *embarrassing* loss?” Malfoy sneered, though kept safe enough
distance to be able to retreat in case Ron unleashed the fury kindling in his eyes.

Ron growled deeply and zoomed forward. “I’m going to give you one chance, Malfoy, to wipe that
bloody smirk off of your ugly face before I do it for you.”

Malfoy placed a hand over his chest as if the malice in Ron’s threat had burned him.

“Now, now, King Weasley, no need to get hostile. It’s not really your fault that you can’t seem
to be able to tell a goal post from those donuts you’re constantly shoving that fat face of yours
with.” His tone emboldened as Crabbe, Goyle, and a newly sprung Flint circled around him, offering
grunts of support.

A rush of air drew the attention of the quartet, and suddenly Harry was hovering directly beside
Ron. He locked his emerald gaze, which was challenging and rigid with boiling anger, on the four
fliers before them. Ron chanced a glance at him and forced down the lurch of aching familiarity
that sparked inside of his chest at the sight of the boy who’d become a stranger to him in the last
month. However, he defiantly kept steely eyes forward and made no hint of even noticing Harry’s
presence.

“Oh, isn’t this lovely, boys? It seems as if Saint Potter’s come to the rescue once again.”
Malfoy released the snitch from his grasp, “Go on then, Potter. See if you can’t keep an eye on it
this time. I promise I won’t…*interfere*.”

“Go to hell, Malfoy!” Harry bellowed.

“Only if I get a seat next to the *famous Harry Potter*,” Malfoy fanned his face mockingly
and chuckled.

Ron withdrew his wand, barely raising it before Harry had his own poised and ready to fire.
Malfoy motioned with a flick of his hand for his cronies to brandish their own.

On the ground below, Madame Hooch and Pomfrey were tending to the broken noses and/or limbs of
players who hadn’t been so fortunate to make it through the scuffle unscathed. Ginny was kneeling
next to Collin Creevy who had been running onto the pitch to get a few photos of the fight before
being dragged into the fray as well. His shattered camera hand was now being held gingerly by Ginny
who waited for someone to come and tend to it. No one noticed the impending war above their heads
until Ginny finally noted the roaring absence of swearing.

“Wait…where’d Ron go?”

Collin shrugged at her question and looked at around carefully. Finally, he drew his gaze upward
and tugged on Ginny’s sleeve.

“Erm…I think I found him, Gin.”

Ginny’s gaze flashed up to where he was looking and in a second she was on her broom and zooming
towards the specks of black far off in the distance. Collin’s hand dropped to the ground like a
sack of dung *(“GIN!”)*, and he howled in pain.

“Ron!” Ginny cried, “Harry! STOP!” She flew as fast as she could. They were so high up that the
clouds blurred their bodies as they balanced on their brooms and flung curses at a group of four
doing the same across from them.

Thinking fast, Ginny withdrew her own wand and aimed at the six duelers.

*“Accio wands!”*

Like moths drawn to a flame, six wooden wands came zooming toward Ginny’s open hands. She tucked
them securely in her robes and ascended upon the baffled boys.

“Ginny! What the bloody hell d’you think you’re doing?!” Ron bellowed from a few feet above her.
Ginny rolled her eyes and ignored him as she gracefully floated into the middle of their tense
huddle.

“If you must know, *Ronald*,” She narrowed her gaze at him bitingly, “I’m saving your arse
from a year long suspension—*that* is what I’m doing.”

Ron growled low, his red face looking as if it might self combust at any given moment. “Step
aside, Gin, and give me back my wand.” His tone was definitive and chilled but rather ineffective
on its intended target.

Ginny scoffed, “Perhaps you didn’t quite hear me, Ronald. Shall I make myself clearer then?” She
held up his wand and her own, tapping the latter gently against the former.

Ron’s face gaped open as his wand shuddered and puffed out of sight, leaving a tiny yellow fuzz
ball in the palm of Ginny’s hand. When it chirped and he caught a glimpse of a tiny orange beak, he
flew straight for her.

Malfoy and his cronies broke out into a round of riotous laughter. Harry simply stared
maliciously at them. Ginny would have bet that he didn’t even register her presence through the
thick rage that was seeping out of his eyes. The tiny snitch, oblivious to the tension, zoomed
around Harry’s head as if begging him to play.

Ginny cradled the tiny chick in her arms and nuzzled it affectionately with her nose. “Now, now,
Ronald. It’s for your own good.” She turned defensively to shield the fragile cargo as Ron advanced
on her.

Malfoy stopped laughing eventually and smirked. “Very cute, Weasley. I’ll just be taking back
*my* wand now.” Malfoy glided over to her, and she flicked her gaze toward him.

“Fat chance, Malfoy. And you needn’t really bother; I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re
constructing a jewel encrusted bench for your smarmy arse to warm for the rest of the season right
now anyway. Perhaps you could entice your father to come have a sit on it. It might make a nice
change from a cold, cement floor, wouldn’t you think?”

The instant the words had left Ginny’s lips, she had to resist the urge to reach out and grab
them back before they could reach Draco’s ears.

The flicker of his eyes that had been painted blue by the skies around them was the only sign
that he’d been fazed, however, and she bit her lip, waiting for him to explode.

Ron snorted from beside her, seeming to forget his anger in light of her excellent jab at
Malfoy.

“Well done, Gin. Aim for the bollocks—just like I’ve always taught you.” He patted her
affectionately on her shoulder. Ginny shrugged him off automatically.

“Shove it, Ron. Let’s head back before these—” She turned back to Malfoy and his grumbling
entourage, noting the shadow that had fallen over his face, and suddenly lost the necessary gusto
to further impose verbal harm on him.

Turning her gaze down, she blinked twice, “Let’s just go, alright? I can hear Collin screaming
from all the way up here.”

The tiny chick wriggled in her grip, and she patted its tiny knob of a head gingerly before
gently tapping it with her wand. Ron graciously accepted his wand back and tossed Harry his
own.

“’Aye! What about *our* wands?” Goyle grumbled and held up a fist threateningly. Ginny
tapped her chin as if considering the notion of returning them back to their owners.

“Well…I suppose it’d only be fair.” She dug them out of her robes, indiscreetly muttering a few
choice words beneath her breath as she did so.

With a smile, she lurched three of them back to their owners. Crabbe and Goyle inspected theirs
for any damage while Flint stuck his in his robes and stared ferociously around himself like a
rabid dog thirsting for blood.

Malfoy’s eyes widened curiously as she took out his wand and stared at it appraisingly before
scrunching up her nose and sticking it back in her robes.

“I’ll be keeping yours for evidence, Malfoy. A simple test will prove that you used a
disorientation spell on Harry to win the match.” She turned her nose up at him and motioned for
Harry and Ron to follow. Harry couldn’t believe that this little imp of a girl was standing up to
Draco Malfoy as if she had no idea that he was next in line to become the Dark Lord’s premier arse
kisser.

*Ginny Weasley never ceases to amaze me.* He shook his head bemusedly and then glared
warningly at his enemies, daring them to follow them, as he turned on his broom and aimed it
towards land. Ron sighed as if losing the opportunity to hex the smirk off Draco’s face was like
waking up on Christmas morning with no presents underneath the tree, but he dutifully followed his
sister as she descended.

Malfoy’s blood was boiling. He couldn’t let her get the better of *him*. As soon as their
backs were turned, his spun to his left and stole Crabbe’s wand from his finger tips, “We’ll see
about that, Weasley! *Accio wand!”*

Ginny stopped in mid-air, fumbling to grab Malfoy’s wand back, but it defiantly flew out of her
grasp and to its rightful owner.

Smirking, Malfoy raised his wand and aimed straight at Ron’s back, “*Stupefy!”*

“Ron! No!” Ginny cried and raced the short distance above her where Ron was trailing behind,
oblivious to the rapidly approaching jet of scarlet light that was sure to knock him off his
broom.

Ron quirked an eyebrow as Ginny suddenly rammed herself in his path and a strange gasping sound
left her lips as she took the brunt of a spell square in her chest.

“GINNY!”

But she was falling……...down…

“NO!”

down…

*“GINNY!”*

down…

Open-mouthed and solid as stone, Ginny was powerless as she dropped lower and lower. Through
wide hazel eyes she could see Ron reaching out for her, her skin felt the rush of air biting and
whipping at it, and her heart felt lighter than a feather as it drummed in her chest. Somewhere
Harry was fumbling for his wand as he dove for her, sputtering out incoherent spells that fizzled
on the tip of his wand or barely skimmed the billowing curtain of auburn hair surrounding Ginny’s
face.

“Faster, Ron!” But his broom couldn’t slice through the heavy currents of air.

“Ginny!” Harry’s wand flew out of his grip as he gave up on spells and leaned into a
perpendicular dive.

“NO!”

A dart of black flashed past both fliers as if carried on the back of the wind itself. In its
wake a chill ran up and down each of their spines as they took in a sharp breath of air.

Before either registered what had happened exactly, they saw Draco Malfoy wrapping one arm
around Ginny’s rigid form and watched as he put every ounce of his strength into turning the end of
his broom upright. The veins in his arms pulsed over his throbbing muscles with the effort. Emerald
earth was glaring back at him, rushing up to meet him with cruel arms outstretched and threatening
to swallow he and his precious bundle whole.

Suddenly another hand was helping, and he could see scarlet robes in the corner of his eye.
Harry grunted and tried to balance on his own broom while doubling Draco’s effort to pull out of
the dive. Finally, the broom began to shake and tip upward, nearly splintering with the force of
its dive versus the power of the two steering it up.

Draco’s world rattled and spun as he felt the ground collide with his legs. Harry flew from his
own broom and rolled a few meters away. Ginny’s board-like body slipped out of Draco’s arms and
landed next to Harry as he fought for breath and reached out a hand to stop her from tumbling
further.

Groaning, Draco felt as if he’s legs had been sliced up with a rusty butcher’s knife and thrown
into a blender on purée. His vision faded in and out of focus as he numbly reached out to feel a
body beneath his fingertips. All he found was a carpet of grass and no signs of life anywhere.

*Please…please…*

He desperately fought for the will to move but the unbearable pain of his lower half was as
numbing as his fear that he hadn’t been successful in his mission.

“Gin…” He coughed roughly. A slow trickle of blood was dripping off of his chin, and he focused
on the drops of crimson as his sight rocked and swayed in and out of double vision.

Somewhere around him, voices were rapidly shouting, the stomp of footsteps surrounded him, and
as he collapsed backward, he thought he’d caught a glimpse of gilded auburn curls before his world
turned an ominous shade of black.

@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~

“What WERE-YOU-*THINKING*?” Professor McGonagall pierced amber daggers into Draco’s closed
eyes, daring him open them and lash back at her, to give her more reason to expel him.

“Excuse me, Minerva, but given the fact that Mr. Malfoy is in *my* house,” Snape’s dark
shadow spilled like oil over the wide space of the infirmary, “I do believe that it is within
*my* jurisdiction to determine his punishment.”

Draco groaned. Sunlight was seeping in through an open window like a fleet of charging daggers
aimed straight for his head. McGonagall scoffed grumpily and pointed a shaking finger at the
bruised body lying before them.

“Punishment?! The boy nearly killed two people and all you will do is give him a slap on his
wrist! Albus, really!” She turned expectant eyes at Dumbledore who until that point had been rather
enjoying the pair’s animated squabbling. Awkwardly clearing his throat, the aged wizard stepped
forward and held out two hands peacefully.

“Now, now, Minerva, I’m sure Mr. Malfoy has a reasonable explanation for his actions. Am I
correct?”

Draco cracked open one of his eyes slowly as one word echoed off of his skull like a broken
record.

*Shit.*

He decided that feigning unconsciousness would only worsen his ordeal, and he made quick work of
opening his other eye and straining to sit upright.

“Professor Flitwick?” He squinted and gripped the side bars of his bed for support. Perhaps he
could evoke some sympathy while he was still in a sick bed.

Dumbledore peered at him appraisingly from over his half-moon spectacles, and McGonagall scoffed
once again. Snape’s lip curled as he watched his guiltless pupil rise from his bed slowly and
disjointedly.

“Mr. Malfoy, how nice of you to wake up.” Dumbledore gestured towards a substantial pile of
sweets that slightly resembled a small mountain on Draco’s bedside table, and Draco felt as if he
might be sick.

“N-no, thank you.”

“Oh, quit your moaning, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall lashed scathingly, itching to have him booted
out for sabotage and any other rule he might have broken. “Your legs have been healed and so has
your jaw. You should be in perfect health for the ride *home*.” She glared at him
heatedly.

“Pardon me, Minerva,” Snape cast a cold glare at his colleague and then at Dumbledore. “But I
believe we have already decided on his punishment, have we not?” He narrowed his eyes at her as if
challenging her to challenge him. Dumbledore nodded succinctly.

Minerva’s face shook with bottled rage as she realized she was being overruled. In a furious
huff not usually characteristic of the poised and immaculate professor, she whirled out of the room
and out sight.

Snape’s smirk deepened at this before he spun around to Draco once again and advanced on
him.

“Mr. Malfoy, what have you to say for your most irresponsible and might I add *stupid*,
actions?”

Draco knew that a simple “I dunno” would not suffice, and he racked his brain for something
good.

*Um…I’m really sorry?*

*Probably not.*

*I promise never to attack anyone again!*

*Puh...fat bloody chance…*

*Your hair’s looking exceptionally glossy today. Is that yesterday’s grease or the day’s
before?*

*Maybe not…*

Snape cleared his throat impatiently, and Draco swallowed.

“I’m sorry, Professor. It’s just that…you know the pressures that I’m—“

“Try again, Mr. Malfoy. Save your nonsense for another.” Snape glared at him darkly. Draco
lowered his head and stared at the stark, white linen.

“There is no excuse, Professor. I’ll owl Mother directly and have her send for my things.”

At that moment, Dumbledore chose to intervene.

“Now, now, Mr. Malfoy. We are not going to be expelling you, if that is what you’re assuming.”
His blue eyes weren’t twinkling like usual but there was something hidden in them that even as
Draco stared bewilderedly into them, he could not decipher.

“Excuse me, Professor?”

Dumbledore rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “I presume that you did not mean to harm Miss Weasley
in any way, as was witnessed by your obvious attempt to save her.”

Draco’s heart jumped into his throat. *Ginny…* He’d been so worried about his own
punishment that the thought of how his reckless charade had ended had eluded him. He fought the
urge to jump out of bed and comb the entire castle for her.

Dumbledore noted the urgent flicker in Draco’s eye and locked it in his memory. “Your attempt, I
am happy to say, was not in vain. Miss Weasley was easily remedied by Madame Pomfrey, and she is
doing quite well. As is Mr. Potter, though I do believe he has a might bit more of grudge against
you than she,” He raised an eyebrow suggestively towards Draco.

“Excuse me, Professor, but might I ask what it is you’re planning to do with me if you’re not
going to expel me?” Draco was entirely at a loss as to why he was being kept in school. Surely he’d
done enough to be thrown out.

Dumbledore nodded briefly. “Well, despite the well-being of your peers, your actions were both
unjustified and unredeemable. It is with great consideration for your future that I have decided to
keep you here.”

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes and beg him to get on with the point.

Dumbledore, however, seemed to have no need in prolonging his sentencing. “Most notably, your
place as quidditch seeker has been revoked as has your position as Slytherin Prefect.”

Draco gaped at him for a moment, feeling the sting of his consequences.

“Yes, sir.”

“And as per request of Professor Snape,” Dumbledore glanced briefly towards him, “You have been
allowed to use your wand only during lessons. At all other times it will be in his direct
possession.”

“Yes, sir.” Draco’s head lowered significantly at that. Wand-less, quidditch-less, and revoked
of authority? This day was turning out bloody terrible.

Dumbledore was silent a moment as he let the gravity of punishment weigh down on Draco’s
conscience.

“I’ve only one request for you, Mr. Malfoy. And it is the hope that in time you will learn to
reconcile with your foes. For it is in alliance that the greatest of life’s battles are won.”

Draco met his gaze and nodded silently, contemplating his declaration that was fit for a fortune
cookie as it struck a peculiar chord in his mind.

With that, both professors left silently, leaving Draco to his thoughts. The most predominant of
all was the burning question as to why he had been spared. It didn’t matter anyway. In two months
he would never see the inside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry ever again. Inside he
needn’t wonder why a thought that would have before been of comfort to him now felt so
foreboding.

@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~

“He did *what*?” Ginny narrowed her gaze at the face of her brother over her half-eaten
breakfast. Ron swallowed his juice before answering.

“I’ve told you ten times, Gin. Malfoy tried to hex me, you took it like the daft little sister
that you are,” He glared at her for a moment, “And Harry saved you before you hit the ground. End
of story. If we’re lucky Malfoy could be on his way to Azkaban by now.” He grinned at the thought
and chomped into a roll.

Ginny’s brow furrowed, and she turned curiously to look at Harry. He shrugged and gave her a
lopsided grin.

“Guess I’m not the only one who likes to play the hero, eh?”

Ginny forced a laugh and shrugged. Beside Harry, Hermione was shooting looks in Ginny’s
direction. A sharp kick from beneath the table elicited a gasp from her. She quickly darted her
eyes up to meet Ron’s threatening glare, and she shut her mouth. They’d all agreed not to tell
Ginny who her real savior was. Hermione was all for it; there was no need to bring Malfoy back into
good light after he’d obviously hurt Ginny deeply. But Ron’s reasoning was different—he’d been so
stunned to believe Malfoy was capable of doing a good deed that he settled on forcing the notion
that Harry had gallantly saved the day again on himself, and it was actually working quite
well.

He was *almost* acknowledging Harry’s presence now.

Ginny stared at her plate silently for a moment, ignoring Dean as he fretted incessantly over
her, refilling her glass and even going as far as to butter her toast for her with Ron scowling in
his direction every time he was or wasn’t looking. She felt slightly claustrophobic in the
protective huddle she was encased in and anxiously fiddled with her hands in her lap.

“Damn!” Dean swore as the orange juice slipped out of his grip as he made to replenish Ginny’s
glass and splashed all over her. Ginny gasped and jumped up abruptly, shaking the table with the
speed of her movement. Dean immediately summoned a napkin from a third year across from them and
began sopping the juice off of Ginny’s jeans. A sense of frustration nearly suffocated Ginny as Ron
leapt up to his feet and began berating Dean for bothering her.

“Look what you’ve done, you git! Why don’t you wipe her arse for her, too?”

“Ron!” Hermione grabbed his arm and tried to calm him down, but Ron flashed a heated gaze
towards her and she recoiled. “Please, Ron…you’re being ridiculous.”

“Don’t you “*Ron*” me! You think you can just go back to bossing me around, do you?” He
forgot about Dean and narrowed his eyes at a baffled Hermione. Harry immediately stood at Ron’s
words and placed himself between the two.

“That’s enough, Ron. Don’t take out your temper on her. She’s done nothing.”

Ron looked fit to spit. “*Nothing*, eh? Well, isn’t that just bloody grand?” He laughed
sardonically and crushed the roll he’d been holding in his hand, “Look at prissy Potter here to
defend his witch! Never thought you’d have one, did you?” He was quaking with rage now.

Ginny’s lip quivered as she fumbled to stop Dean’s attempts to dry her clothing.

“Ron…please, just calm down.” Harry’s voice was like ice but he kept his temper in check.

“No, you couldn’t *stand* not having what someone else wanted, could you?!” Ron’s face
glowed with a fury that seemed to stem from his very soul. Behind Harry, Hermione was red-faced and
trembling slightly to overcome her tears.

“Ron—“

“Go on then! Take her! She’s bloody…YOURS!” With that, Ron’s fist rose into the air and came
smashing down on the table, nearly cracking the solid oak.

Not one person was moving in the Great Hall. A pin drop could have been heard. The only sounds
were of Ron’s deep breathing, Harry’s teeth grinding together in self-restraint, and Hermione’s
quiet sobs. In her haste to break up the squabble, McGonagall had stopped in her tracks at Ron’s
near-explosive temper, looking torn between running for reinforcements or patting him on the back
sympathetically. Ginny folded her arms across her chest furiously.

“Oh, would all of you just GROW UP?!” Her voice echoed off of the walls deafeningly, and one or
two first years ducked beneath their tables for cover in case either of the heated upper classmen
decided to take aim on innocents.

Ginny roughly batted away Dean’s hands and stepped over the bench, stomping all the way to the
giant doors and out of them before anyone bothered to snap out of their shock.

Her shoes clicked loudly against the stone floors of the castle as she wandered aimlessly,
feeling the fumes of her anger ebbing slowly. As she rounded a corner, a lumbering shadow spilled
out before her, and she quickly stepped aside to avoid being trampled by an ambling Hagrid who was
toting a rather large crate towards the courtyard.

Ginny smiled at him, and he stopped abruptly. “Hello, Hagrid.”

“’Aye! How’re yeh feelin’, there, Ginny?” He clapped her awkwardly on her back, his hairy face
wrinkled by his infectious grin.

“Much better, thank you.” She smiled genially and tried to inconspicuously pop her back properly
into place from his blow.

Hagrid chuckled loudly and scratched his chin with a shake of his head. “Never though’ you’d be
owin’ Malfoy one for savin’ yer skin, eh? I ‘most passed out mehself.

Ginny laughed and rubbed her shoulder gingerly, though her eyes narrowed deeply as she caught on
to what he had just said.

“What do you mean, Hagrid?”

The evident curiosity in Ginny’s face quickly alerted Hagrid that he should not have probably
said that.

“Erm…” He fumbled for quick cover up, and nodded towards his wobbling crate as it suddenly gave
a great lurch and jumped forward. Hagrid placed a large paw in front of Ginny protectively and
scooped up the crate again.

“Watch’er, Gin! Eh, yep…I was jus’ bringin’ this crate o’ mifflers down to the green houses for
Professor Sprout. She’s mixin’ up some healin’ potions for the infirm’ry as Poppy’s in a right
state trying to keep up with this blasted flu been goin’ ‘round.” He nodded cordially to her and
hoisted the crate into his arms again, realizing that a quick exit would be most efficient. “Hope
ter see yeh ‘round, Gin.”

Ginny scoffed, “Wait! What did you mean, Hagrid?” She called after him, but he merely waved a
giant hand back at her and disappeared through the large doors that lead to the grounds.

Ginny kicked the floor with her shoe with a frustrated growl and stomped in the opposite
direction. She had potions in twenty-five minutes so she decided to run up to her dorm and grab her
things, as well as to change. Her jeans were sticking uncomfortably to her legs from the juice.
Perhaps the walking time would allow her some sort of idea as to why everyone was treating her so
oddly. As she passed by the infirmary, Hagrid’s rushed excuse about the flu bug was proven by the
ten or so occupants filling the room with gagging noises and the putrid smell of vomit. Ginny
scrunched up her nose and walked quickly past.

“Poor Madame Pomfrey…” She sighed and shook her head. She’d been eyeing a future in healing for
some time now, but if that meant cleaning out puke-buckets, she might decide to take up Seamus’
offer to become his personal bed-maiden.

*Fat chance….* She laughed to herself. At least someone wasn’t treating her as if she were
some delicate little child. Sure…he treated her more like a sultry bint, but it was better than
nothing, and she loved the distraction from Ron’s ever-present self-pity party and Harry and
Hermione’s woeful love life.

She quickly made her way to her room and grabbed her text books and a quick peak at the looking
glass after she’d slipped into her regular school pleated skirt. Once she’d muttered a shining
spell for her hair and her soft curls sprang to life, she smiled approvingly and bounced down the
steps. Sure, she still wasn’t sure what Hagrid had meant, but she was in a much better mood after
having some alone time. As she stepped through the portrait hole and began her long trek to the
dungeons, the after-breakfast crowd began filtering through the hall.

Thankful for the protective cover of the pack, she submerged herself deeper within the bustling
students. Unluckily for her, a head of red hair does set one apart from a crowd rather easily.

“Ginny! Hey—Ginny! Wait up! Oy! Watch out, you!”

*Damn! The bloody boy finds me everywhere I go!*

Scoffing, she suddenly wished she could melt into the corridor wall. Dean scrambled to avoid
tripping over a couple of second years, though he’d managed to kick one of their shin’s in the
process.

She promptly picked up her pace. Just a few more feet and she’d be in the safety of her potions
class, though seeking solace in the dreary dungeons with a snarling Snape looming over head like
some great beast was in itself too ironic for Ginny to even fathom. However, the approaching menace
to her nerves had driven her to it.

“Gin!” Dean panted, being jostled too and fro by the bustling crowd. “Gin! Wait! Just listen—I’m
sorry about the juice!”

Ginny muffled a snort of laughter and chanced a hasty glance over her shoulder before
practically sprinting the rest of the way to the end of the hall. She faced the stairs and began
taking them in two’s—one set…three sets, four, five, down, down, down…she lost count as Dean’s
voice faded into the murky swamp of the dungeon air which seemed to drown out anything other than
the skittering beetles that lounged in the darkest of corners or the wispy mazes of spiders whose
lips still dripped from their last meal.

Ginny had never felt more relieved in her life.

She was a few minutes early despite her earlier distractions and one of the only students in the
room at all. Her peers usually liked to stand outside of the entrance, taking advantage of the last
breaths of fresh air they’d be able to inhale before being subjected to an hour and half of boiling
cauldrons over-flowing with wrong-footed potions and the damp, mildew-y stench of Hogwarts’ lowest
residence.

Matilda Madrid, a gangly Ravenclaw with stringy black hair and beady eyes a shade lighter than
ebony, looked up briefly from her copy of the *Daily Prophet*. She noted Ginny with an
appraising gaze before turning her gaze back to the newspaper. Ginny’s heart lightened slightly.
They were having potions with Ravenclaws, which meant that—

“Luna!” Ginny exclaimed, feeling a smile crack the stony contours of her face at the sight of a
blonde head in the back of the room. Luna’s glasses were shoved up on her head, holding back her
golden bangs. She glanced up from a thick book she was reading and the faint dream she’d been
submerged in dwindled from her gazes in a fleeting haze.

“Hello, Ginny,” She said fluidly, carefully closing her book and gesturing for Ginny to take a
seat beside her. Ginny quickly obliged, setting her things next to Luna’s on the ground and
relaxing considerably.

“Dean giving you a hard time as usual?” Luna smiled bemusedly, though her blue gaze managed to
look sympathetic. Ginny blew a rush of air up over her forehead and nodded gravely.

“Bloody prat won’t learn to give up. After I kicked him in his ruddy bollocks last week, you’d
he’d take a hint and save himself from further torture.” Her eyes lit up mischievously and she
leaned in conspiratorially, “You think if we make a shrinking potion today, I’d be able to save
some for dinner? I’d love to see exactly *what* it would shrink if I slipped it into Dean’s
pumpkin juice.”

Luna’s eyes barely flinched, but the corners of her rosy lips curved almost unnoticeably.
“Perhaps it would be a wiser idea to try—“

“To pay a bit of *attention* to the start of class, Ms. Lovegood?”

The sudden drop in temperature registered all around the room as fifth year Gryffindors cringed
and Ravenclaws shivered slightly. Professor Snape briskly slithered over to them, liquid black eyes
fixated on their startled faces, his black cloak billowing behind him and laying a blanket of chill
over each he passed.

Ginny wanted desperately to roll her eyes at his routine show of his arse at the start of every
class, but she chose rather to bite her tongue and stare at her potion’s book. Luna merely gazed at
him dreamily, unfazed and unwilling to cower or even look as if he’d startled her.

“Actually, Professor, I was going to say that perhaps it would be better if Ginny told Dean that
he should waste his time on more promising affairs, such as courting a Slytherin or taming a wild
dragon. But I suppose your suggestion is just as good.”

Ginny’s lips pursed. *Please don’t laugh…please don’t laugh…* She felt her mouth
twitch.

Snape glowered at Luna and his face shook with disdain. “Ten points from Ravenclaw for that
mouth of yours, Miss Lovegood. Twenty from Gryffindor for speaking after the start of class and
encouraging the last semi-decent line of students left here to poison their potential decency with
the influence of one such as your self, Miss Weasley.”

Ginny’s bloody boiled underneath his icy shadow. *Why you grouchy little bastard…*

Luna’s face was stone-still, but only Ginny could feel the usual pacifying aura of her good
friend sizzle slightly.

Finally, Snape whirled around and stalked down the aisle towards his deep mahogany stained
desk.

*What a lovely day this is shaping out to be…* Ginny sighed and glared at the text as the
words blurred together. She suddenly wished she and Luna were still talking.

“Professor Snape.”

*Oh, bloody hell.* Ginny slumped deeper into her seat. Maybe he wouldn’t see her. Just a
bit further—perhaps she’d be able to duck underneath the desk and pretend she’d dropped her
quill.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy? I do hope you have a reasonable excuse for interrupting my class like this?”
Snape stalked over to his prized pupil and jutted out his chest authoritatively.

Draco’s eyes skimmed the room casually before locking on Ginny’s. She barely had a chance to
jump at their sudden connection before he was turned back to Snape and speaking again.

“I apologize, Professor, but I didn’t see you at breakfast, and I’ve got a free period now.”

Malfoy reached into his robes and withdrew a thin piece of wood that resembled a wand. Upon
closer inspection from over the top of her text book, Ginny saw that it was, in fact, Draco’s
wand.

Snape looked from the wand to his prize pupil and quickly snatched it. In a puff it was gone,
and Draco nodded slightly.

Ginny was more than confused now. Why would Snape be holding Draco’s wand in between his
classes?

Rachel Simpleton, a busty Ravenclaw with a reputation for juggling more wizards around than an
angry mountain troll, nudged a girl beside her and nodded towards Malfoy, “I’ve heard that after
what happened last weekend, they’ve got him locked up in a cell all day, and they only let him out
for lessons.”

The other girl gasped and turned around to tell the boy sitting next to her. But Ginny hadn’t
been paying attention. All eyes were suddenly on her.

“What?” Ginny hissed and tried to look interested in her text once again. The gapers quickly
lost interest and returned to their whispering.

Luna gazed discreetly at Ginny from the corner of her eye and realized with a nod of acceptance
that no one had told her yet, obviously. She wasn’t usually one to disperse vital information
concerning one’s life to people, but since the entire school already knew, she couldn’t see what
harm could be done.

“Gin…” She whispered without moving her lips. Malfoy was turning on his heel and leaving now.
Snape watched him go and then turned back to his students, stalking the tables to see that each was
doing as they were told and berating those that weren’t. Ginny waited until he was bent over a
flushed Gryffindor as the latter shakily dumped a pile of fig-root into his cauldron.

“What?” She hissed out of the corner of her lips, chopping up her own roots carefully. Luna
leaned in and pretended to be adding a flask of pumpkin essence.

“Do you remember that day?”

“What day? Oh no, Luna! *Not the pumpkin*!” Ginny hoarsely whispered and quickly stopped
Luna’s hands from adding in the powder. It wasn’t usual for her friend to be so spacey—well, at
least during lessons.

Luna looked as if nothing had happened.

“The day you fell…” She switched flasks and reached for the correct one—ginger root.

Ginny nodded succinctly and focused on dividing the proffered roots into equal slices.

“What about it?”

Luna kept quiet as Snape slowly made his way to their table and peered over Ginny as she slipped
each piece of root into the cauldron at exact three-second intervals. Finding no error in her
procedure, Snape curled his lip and slithered off to another table.

Both girls exhaled.

“Well…what have you been told about it exactly?”

Ginny fought the urge to shake the point out of Luna’s mouth. “Exactly what everyone else saw.
Harry caught me before I fell. And my bum still hurts like hell, thank you.” She allowed a small
giggle to escape her lips at that, but when Luna shook her head slowly and did not join in, she
turned subtly towards her with a curious gaze.

“Why? That’s all, isn’t it?” Ginny suddenly smelled something fishy. And it wasn’t her
potion.

Luna shook her head slowly. “No, Gin. It wasn’t Harry who saved you.”

“Then *who*—“

“It was Draco *Malfoy*.”

*Screeeeeeeeccchh**.*

Ginny had slid her seat back and stood up straight as a plank, staring openly at her
nonchalantly faced partner.

“WHAT?”

She felt something taping her shoulder and brushed it off automatically. When it persisted, she
whirled around.

“MAY I HELP YOU?” Her stomach dropped as she saw Snape’s beady little eyes glaring daggers into
her own.

“Erm…what I meant was…may I…” She turned her head down and admitted defeat. “May I help you
write out that detention slip?” As an afterthought, she quickly added, “Professor…that is.”

Cringing, she sat back down. But Snape was not finished yet.

“Twenty-five points from Gryffindor!” He roared, “For interrupting your peers during one of the
most vital OWL lessons you will ever receive. Take another ten for getting cheeky with one’s
superior at the end, and how about five for sitting before I told you to do so.”

Ginny nodded but her mind was swimming. *Draco saved me?*

Snape whirled around in a flurry of black robes and stormed over to his desk to whip out his
handy-dandy, over used detention slip book.

As he furiously scribbled the date and time of her punishment, Ginny gave Luna an accusatory
look that asked for confirmation.

Luna nodded slowly, not daring to draw attention to her self. Ginny bit her lip, and abruptly
she stood and stalked over to Professor Snape.

“Professor!” She announced his name and then folded her arms over her chest. Slowly, Snape’s
eyes rose from the red slip of paper and glared back at her.

“I—I, erm….” Ginny thought quickly. “I’m feeling faint, sir.”

Snape’s lip quivered angrily. “Faint, Miss Weasley?”

Ginny nodded rapidly, and quickly fanned her face as if the effort was too great.

“Oh…I do believe…I think I might be starting my…erm…well…it’s been around twenty-eight days
since the last time, so I…oh…I don’t know what to do!” She covered her face and turned around as if
in embarrassment. She then winked at Luna and whirled back around

“I’m seeing RED, professor! Oh, the pain!” She clutched her stomach. Snape had the gall to lean
back away from her and grimace in disgust.

“Oh, shut your blubbering, Miss Weasley! Go see Madame Pomfrey if you must! But don’t think
you’ll be receiving credit for this lesson just because you carry an extraneous X chromosome.”

The whole of the class had to hold back their snorts of laughter. Ginny continued moaning as she
backed out of the classroom, thanking him in between her sobs.

From her seat in the back of the classroom, Luna shook her head and continued to chop her roots.
Ginny Weasley would have some explaining to do later.

Outside the class, Ginny sprinted up the stone steps and out into the airy corridor. Flashing
her gaze in each direction, she tore off towards the left and found herself in the main entrance
hall. She racked her brain for anywhere Draco might go during his free period, and only one place
struck her as plausible.

Inhaling deeply, she glared at the path before her as she jogged towards her destination. She’d
had enough playing these games.

*That Draco Malfoy has got one hell of a lot of explaining to do.*

@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~@~}~

**AN: Oh…I know…What an awful place to stop this chapter! I’m terribly sorry! But, hey, I think
I deserve a break for the lack of cliffies so far in this fic. And this one was only a *minor*
cliffie. I just didn’t want it to get too long. It’s already close to 9K words, and for me, that’s
a LOT. But I told ya that it’d be out sooner! And look at that…I delivered! :D**

**Anyways, thank you so much for your fantastic reviews last chapter! For those that have been
eagerly waiting for some actual romance, (and believe you me, I’m getting a little anxious for
some, too!) the next chapter will be the answer to many a reader’s D/G dream.** **J** **don’t
forget to review! I still can’t believe I hit (and PASSED) that 100 mark, btw. makes me feel all
special and everything!**

**thanks** **so much again!**

**Ciao!**

**~Adrial~**



12. Beautiful Chaos
-------------------

“To be or not to be a Weasley”

Chapter 12: Beautiful Chaos

By: Adrial

**AN: Everything in italics is a memory.**

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

*I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened before*

*Welcome to the fallout
Welcome to resistance
The tension is here
Between who you are and who you could be
Between how it is and how it should be…*

*I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened before

Maybe redemption has stories to tell
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
Where are you gonna go?
Where are you gonna go?
Salvation is here…*

*“Dare You to Move” By: Switchfoot*

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Breathing seemed like such a natural, automated function of the body that even as Ginny felt her
lungs close up and her mouth purse tightly, refusing to let in any type of air, she barely knew she
was doing it. It wasn’t until she had to remind herself that the burning sensation that she felt
gnawing at her chest belonged to a lack of oxygen that she released her held breath and drew in a
new one.

She’d been stumbling clumsily up the steps to the Gazing Room, feeling as if her feet couldn’t
possibly have moved her there fast enough, when she heard the voices. They were angry, one furious,
one whimpering and frustrated. Ginny tiptoed up the final few steps, leaning forward closer to hear
and wishing she’d brought along an extendable ear or two from her secret stash the twins had given
her before the start of school. (*“Just in case you miss us and want to cause a bit of mayhem in
our honor. Just don’t put the pixie wings anywhere near Ron—he’s already been turned blue by one
and shrunk by another. The poor bloke…”)*

Sighing, she realized that she didn’t need one anyway. The two bantering voices were loud enough
for her to barely have to tilt her head to hear well.

“…thought I was enough! Why can’t I just be bloody enough for you?!”

“Oh, shut up that blubbering hole of yours for once! I’m not in the mood!”

Ginny gasped. *Draco…*

The girl was whimpering again, and Ginny noted the pause in sniffles, guessing that she’d
stopped to wipe her face off.

“You…you’ve changed…why have you…what have you done to the old Draco?” Her voice shook and
wavered, but Ginny focused on the smooth parts to identify the speaker. The voice was familiar, but
it seemed as if Ginny had never heard it in such a manner before—pleading and vulnerable. It had
been much stronger before, she knew. It was like—

“Pansy, I’ve told you a hundred times. Stop following me every damn place I go and leave me
be!”

Stomping feet began to make their way to the door, and Ginny nearly felt her heart jump in her
throat. She’d be caught! Clamping a hand over her mouth, she started to turn, but then there was
the sound of rapidly shuffling feet and painful sobs and the stomping ceased.

“No! You can’t just leave me! Look at all I’ve done for you, Draco! Just—LOOK!” Pansy’s sobs
made Ginny’s heart twist painfully. What on earth could Draco have done to get this girl so
desperate for him?

There was a tense pause for a long moment. The shadows beneath the crack in the door had
stilled, and Ginny furrowed her brow, wishing she could see through walls. Pansy’s quiet, frantic
sobs were the only indication that people were actually behind the door.

Finally, there was a deep sigh, and Draco spoke again. “Let go of me, Pansy.”

Pansy’s breaths rattled, and the shadows began to stir again. “I-I thought it would make you
happy. I…I wanted to surprise you, Draco. Aren’t you happy? Just look again—”

“NO! I’m not going to fucking LOOK again, Pansy! What were you bloody thinking, anyway? That I’d
fall to my knees and kiss your bleeding feet? That this stupid act would make me fall in love with
you?!”

“It’s not an act, Draco! I-I LOVE YOU!” The muffled sound of punches suddenly protruded through
the doors, and Ginny knew Pansy must have been upset enough to beat the sense out of Draco.

“I love you!! Why can’t you see it? I-did-this-for-YOU! Don’t push me away,
*please*—Ack!”

The door shook on its hinges as if a body had been flung against it. Ginny gasped and stumbled
back away from it. Her knees were wobbly as she staggered down the steps slowly, and she lashed the
back of her hand across her eyes, alarmed to find that they had been filled with tears.

Draco’s lethal voice followed her as she descended.

“I don’t give a damn what anyone told you or what you did for me. I don’t want you, and *I DO
NOT LOVE YOU!”*

“Oh, but you love her, don’t you?! You chose *her* over me! All I need to know is why,
Draco? Just tell me the fuck *WHY!!”*

A fist pounded against the door, and Ginny knew this time that it was Draco’s. The door rattled,
and Pansy cried out as if his blow had actually struck her. Ginny rushed down the last few steps
and slid into a corner, out of sight and not trusting enough of her legs to make the long walk back
to her dormitory.

“Oh, Merlin…” Ginny whispered, leaning her head back against the cold stone and breathing in and
out deeply. What had she just overheard? Pansy Parkinson declaring her love for Draco? No…she’d
heard much more; she knew it and she felt it. Before she had more time to think it over, though,
the fumbling sound of footsteps overhead filled the air, and she ducked deeper into the corner.

She watched silently as Pansy gasped and sobbed her way down the last few steps, yanking her
cloak back over her shoulders and rushing right past her dark silhouette without even pausing.

Ginny waited then, stretching her hearing to catch the sound of Draco’s own descent. When no
such sound could be heard, she sighed and pushed off of the wall slowly. Class would be ending soon
and she couldn’t be caught meandering through the hallways and not in the infirmary like she was
supposed to be.

Peering up through the stairwell, Ginny felt her entire being tug her towards that door where
she knew he was. She knew she still had questions for him to answer, curiosities to fulfill. But
now hardly seemed like the right time to provoke him, after he’d had an awful row like that.

*But why should I bloody care anyway?* Ginny nodded stiffly and took the first step surely.
Somewhere around the fifth or sixth one, however, anxiety began to creep into her nerves, and she
considered turning back. She was the last person on earth who wanted to provoke a furious Malfoy on
the tails of a heated argument. She was brave but not suicidal.

*But then again…* She smiled coyly.

*He doesn’t have a wand and… S*he dipped a hand into her robe’s pocket. *I do.*

With that reassurance tucked firmly in her mind, Ginny smiled softly, now taking the steps in
two’s. The door appeared in front of her sooner than she’d have liked, and she knew there was no
turning back. It was now or never.

The door opened noiselessly for the first time since she could remember, and hence did not
disturb the brooding form who sat motionlessly at the far end of the room, pale face craned towards
the heavens. Ginny’s feet slowly moved on their own accordance, leading her to him as they had so
many times before. A nameless ache snuck into her chest, one that only eluded her when she’d been
away from the Burrow for an entire school year and knew that now she’d be coming back—she’d be
coming home.

A soft breeze shuffled past her, tousling her loose curls and rousing some color in her cheeks.
She was a few feet from him now, and it as if she knew that he could feel her presence. One of her
hands reached out towards him as if to lay itself upon his shoulder in comfort, but she suddenly
drew back, closing her eyes against the nostalgia that stung them.

*“Knut for your thoughts, Draco?” Ginny giggled playfully and laid a tender hand on his
shoulder as he poured over a piece of parchment, quill tip inserted in his mouth
thoughtfully.*

*Shaken from his reverie, Draco turned to her and let her smile have its usual affect on him,
which was always preceded by her typical greeting. Feeling a bit lighter, he shrugged. “You know
the drill, Weasley. Five galleons or no deal.”*

*Ginny rolled her eyes in response and plopped down unceremoniously beside him.*

*“When are you ever going to give me a friendly discount on those things, eh? I’m nearly broke
from the day you failed your Transfig. test and wouldn’t tell me for three whole hours why you’d
been scowling at everything all bloody day.”*

*Grinning coyly, she added, “Not that it was a change, per se, but whenever Draco Malfoy
forgets to primp before leaving his dormitory between classes, I know there must be something
terribly amiss.”*

*Draco glared at her reproachfully, “I did not* fail*, Weasley. I merely had a
misunderstanding with that old bat and she settled the matter by deeming my garden snake an
earthworm and docking me fifty points.”*

*Ginny promptly snorted, eliciting a cringe of disgust from Draco which she ignored. “Whatever
you say, Oh Great One, but we both know that you transfigured a set of fangs on your snake and set
it on Neville when she wasn’t looking. That’s why she docked you the points, and also the reason I
had to help you do* two *extra rolls of parchment last week on the essay she made you do to
make up for it.”*

*“Honestly, do you ever tire of that mouth of yours, Weasley?”*

*“Do you ever tire of asking me that question, Malfoy?”*

*Draco gave her sideways glance, “Good point. Now leave me alone so I can finish this letter.
It’s a very important inquiry to the ministry, mind you, and I don’t need any
distractions.”*

*“What have you to correspond with the ministry for?” She eyed him incredulously.*

*Draco sighed as it was blatantly obvious. “My father has been otherwise detained, if you have
not noticed, and it’s up to me to uphold his business with Fudge, Weasley. Like I said, it’s far
too important for one such as your self to understand.*

*Ginny nodded, though she didn’t believe him for a minute, and she cautiously peered over his
shoulder once he’d returned to his writing again. She inched a few centimeters closer, hoping he
wouldn’t notice, but when he suddenly whipped his head around to face her with a glare, she smiled
meekly and pretended to be criticizing the lint on his cloak.*

*“You’re a mess, really, Draco.” She tipped her wand at him and muttered a few words that made
the invisible specks disappear. “There you are.” She smiled approvingly, “All better. Please, do
continue to work and ignore me.”*

*She turned to her own books and withdrew her History of Magic text. The chapter was about the
fall of the great Wizard Ashalom or someone or the other, but Ginny wasn’t really paying all that
much attention. Draco had begun to scribble furiously across the parchment, only pausing to reload
his quill with ink.*

*Deeply curious now, she scooted a bit further forward, pretending to be getting out another
book. She could just make out the addressee’s name…*

*“Weasley, if you insist upon trying to read what I’m writing, I must suggest you give it up.
It’s none of your damn business.” Draco didn’t even have to look up to see the look of bewilderment
on her face and his quill continued to waltz across the page.*

*Ginny huffed. “I wouldn’t care anyway. I’ve much better things to worry about. The fall of
Ashwash and other such…riveting…infor…mation,” She grinned cheekily and turned her book upside
right once she’d realized what he was looking so smug about.*

*“Oh, do shut up.” She growled and plopped the book back in her lap.*

*“Never said a word.”*

*“Yes, well, you were thinking it.”*

*“Are you a mind reader now?”*

*“No, I just know when you’re being an arse. Your lip starts to curl and you do that obnoxious
thing with your nose—yes, that.” She tapped the tip of his perfectly proportioned nose with her
quill. It had been flaring slightly and scrunching as if he was mulling over some evil
thought.*

*Draco recoiled and shrugged her off. “Whatever you say, Weaslette.”
“Exactly.”*

*“…”*

*“…”*

*“…”*

*“Alright! I don’t want to play this stupid game anymore. I’m bored.”*

*“Finally, the Weasel has successfully managed to achieve the maturity level of a five year
old.”*

*“No, I haven’t!” She exclaimed defensively, and then with a thoughtful look followed by a
smirk, Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. “There. Now I have.”*

*“Congratulations.”
“Prat.”*

*“At your service, Weasley.”*

*“Well, as the first of your tasks, please do tell your mum that I’d like some more of her
treacle tart as well—the last batch was fantastic.” Ginny tried to contain her smug grin and look
disinterestedly at her text book. Draco’s quill rolled onto the ground, and Ginny barely had a
chance to look surprised before he tackled her to the ground, a spark of mischief glinting in his
eyes.*

*“Ouch!” She squealed as her head hit the soft grass with a thud.*

*Draco growled, but Ginny suddenly began to laugh so hard that her body shook beneath his
hands. The hue of her skin nearly matched her hair color as she choked on giggles and struggled to
writhe out of his grasp. Draco held her tightly, knowing full well that he’d been caught, but to
have the excuse to touch her was enough to play stupid for a moment longer.*

*It was becoming more frequent lately, his touching her whenever he could get away with it
without it seeming as if he actually wanted to. But she was almost begging to be touched. With her
soft hair and milky skin—no other girl he’d ever met had looked like her, and he wanted to know
what it felt like to touch something so rare. Of course, he’d never admit any of this to himself.
That would be unthinkable. He was merely teaching her a lesson—never to be right about Draco Malfoy
again.*

*“Oh, don’t get all aggressive now, Mr. Big Business Man!” Ginny choked on a chuckle, “I’m
sure F-Fudge would lo-love some of it as w-we-well!”*

*“Shut that mouth of yours, Weasley,” He warned in a growling voice. Ginny merely snorted and
playfully punched at his chest.*

*“Oh, Draco! I’m so s-sc-scared! Please promise you w-won’t hurt me!” She laughed even harder,
and Draco wondered if that shade of purple was healthy for a face until his own drained a bit in
color.*

*A word in her playful plea had struck something deep inside of his chest.*

Hurt…?

*How could he possibly hurt her? He felt sick to his stomach all of the sudden and quickly
withdrew his body from hers, unwrapping his hands from around her arms.*

*Now that they were about a foot apart, he let his eyes rove over her to make sure he hadn’t
bruised her. Ginny watched him as he ran his eyes up and down her body as if inspecting a damaged
broom for a bent bristle and she suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Ever since she’d known him,
she’d never seen him look* worried *about someone, as if he actually* cared *or
something. It was a bit unnerving.*

*“Draco?” Her chest was heaving from the laughter, but she furrowed her brow worriedly at
him.*

*Draco’s bluish gaze flashed up to her own, and he shook his head roughly. A few pieces of his
hair dislodged themselves from their mold and fell across his eyes, shielding the sparks of
realization that had erupted within them.*

*Ginny reached out cautiously and brushed them aside, staring in earnest into them. She
noticed that every now and then this would happen when they were being physical with one another.
She would watch as he suddenly recoiled as if struck by something, and his eyes would glaze over,
and all he would do was stare at her. She wondered what he might have been thinking at those
moments. What harsh realization had impacted him when they were near to one another? She often
feared that it was regret for ever giving her the time of day, but the soft flicker in his daze
assured her otherwise.* *There* *was something he wasn’t telling her. Something even she
wasn’t sure that he knew what it was.*

*But that something was strong enough to pull her closer to him every single time. It was a
magnet between them, attracting their polar bodies towards each other, drawing rapid heart beats
and sharp blinks as their eyes moved from each other’s to their lips instead.*

*Ginny wrapped her hand around his own because this time she wouldn’t let him get away. There
would be no interruptions because this time she knew what he was feeling. Her body hummed from the
emotions locked inside of his eyes, and she just* knew*.*

*Her lips formed his name, but no sound followed. Draco found his hand cupped around her
cheek; like satin it felt to him. Ginny leaned forward, and he tipped her head back. Blinking and
winking playfully, the stars watched the scene play out from their reserved seats. Even the moon
glittered brighter as they connected. Shadows shifted to be kissed by moonlight as Ginny and Draco
embraced each other with no arms, no fumbling excuses, only the assurance that both felt what the
other was feeling and both wanted what the other wanted.*

*Ginny felt her heart stop when Draco’s lips touched her own.*

“What do you want, Weasley?”

Ginny was yanked from her memories by Draco’s chilling demand. Her lips were tingling, just as
they had for days after he had kissed her. It had only happened once, but it had been enough.

But now was not then. She was no longer his secret companion, and he had made perfectly clear
that he had no intention of having a repeat of that afternoon. Ginny swallowed over her dried
throat and took a step forward, forcing herself to remember her purpose in approaching him.

“I want the truth, Draco.”

With his back turned against her, Ginny could not see the look of defeat nestled deep into his
eyes.

“What truth, Weasley?” He questioned coldly, still refusing to turn.

Ginny bit her lip and stepped closer until she could feel the heat from his body on her leg.
Nodding to herself resolutely, she stepped around him and kneeled before his body. His gray eyes
were glassy with thought, and as they snapped over to hers, Ginny saw so many different messages
held within them that she herself could not have remained standing if she had been.

“Again I ask,” His voice cut the air like ice, “What truth?”

Ginny frowned. “I want to know what happened on Saturday at the match. I want to know the truth
about my savior. I-I know it wasn’t Harry.”

Draco’s eyes darkened, but he waged an inner struggle within himself to keep them locked on
hers. “Why do you care, Weasley? You’re alive and well now. Why not boost Potter’s ego a bit and
let him think he’s Hero Boy again?”

Ginny glared at him, “Because I think the person who is responsible for my safety owes it to me
to reveal himself. Even if he is a stuck up, snobby, stubborn old oaf who probably couldn’t perform
a good deed unless you paid him five million galleons and promised never to tell anyone.”

Draco’s icy shield broke, and he glared deeply into her eyes, nearly singeing the hazel
irises.

“So what if I fucking saved your arse, Weasley? Is that what you want? Now you’ve got your
“hero”. Sorry if I’m not as bloody dashing as Potter, but frankly, Hero of the Day never really was
my goal in life.”

Ginny glared back at him, feeling her temper rise. “Stop being such a pompous git, alright? I
came here to thank you, but obviously you’re undeserving.”

“I don’t *need* your thanks, Weasley. In fact, I wouldn’t care if you fell off your broom
five hundred feet in the air again!”

“Then why did you save me the first time?!”

“Because obviously I had a serious lack in judgment!”

Ginny growled and suddenly felt her body light on fire. She was through beating around the damn
bush. She pounced on Draco before he even knew what hit him and had him pinned to the ground before
*she* even knew what hit her.

“That’s it, you prat! I want the truth, right here, right now!” Her icy tone penetrated him
deeply, and as he tried to accustom himself to the feeling of her so near to him again, he felt two
months of silence aching in his throat to be released. But he couldn’t. He forced the words down
like a ball of fire and kept his mouth shut. His silence, in turn, enraged the fiery-haired girl
before him.

“I’ve seen you, Draco. I know you’ve been watching over me for the past month like some obsessed
fool. Though it seems a bit dodgy to me considering the fact that you told me to bugger the hell
off just around the same time. Now, considering the circumstances, don’t you think I deserve an
explanation?”

Draco tried to move from under her, but her will power overexerted his own. Breathing harshly
and looking as if he might be able to spit fire, he glowered at her.

“I don’t owe you a damn thing, Weasley! Now get the hell off me!”

Ginny replied by digging her nails deeper into his shoulders and shoving him back down.

“Not until you cooperate!”

“Weasley, I’m warning you…”

“I don’t give a damn what you do to me. I just need to know why you’re trying to pretend that
what we—“ She stopped and calmed herself. Draco’s face was set in stone, and she knew that
expression. He wouldn’t budge. His eyes were opaque and unyielding to anyone. Ginny shook her head
slowly. “Oh, just forget it. I give up, Draco.”

Ginny’s hazel eyes were clouding with angry tears, and Draco’s fogged into a murky gray hue as
she sighed dejectedly and let go of his arms. Lifting up her body from his, she rolled over and
stood on her feet shakily.

Draco let himself stay in a hazy shock for a moment or two before joining her. As he
straightened his back aristocratically and eyed her with vivid gray orbs of mixed emotions, Ginny
felt as if she’d lost the one person in the world who she truly ever thought understood her. All
this time, even after he’d thrown away what they could have had that afternoon, she’d held the hope
that their fate could turn into a “maybe” instead of a nonexistent nothing. Ginny felt her insides
cringe and freeze at the realization that perhaps there was no hope, but she wouldn’t leave until
he knew.

“I want you to know that I have been waiting for weeks for you to come up to me and tell me that
all of this…this pushing me away and acting as if I never meant anything to you was all a hoax. You
have no idea—“ Ginny paused there, not willing to let her emotions choke her up in front of him.
“You have no idea how much I sacrificed to be there for you. My friends, my family—I had to lie to
all of them countless times; I broke their trust and ignored their feelings all for *you*. I
did all of that for you, Draco, because once upon a time ago, I cared for you.”

Free-flowing tears cascaded down Ginny’s cheeks now, and she didn’t bother to brush them aside.
They’d been waiting too long to be released, and she could deny them no longer.

Taking a step forward, Ginny gauged his mindset. When he did not immediately step away from her,
she took another towards him and finally stood inches from his chest.

“I came here to find out if all of that was for nothing, Draco. Tell me right now if everything
we’ve been through together was all a waste of time. Because if it was, then I’ve got a lot of good
people that I need to apologize to.”

She folded her arms across her chest firstly to feel more secure and secondly to make sure that
she was still capable of moving without falling to pieces. And then, she waited.

Draco merely stared back at her, his face more unreadable than Hermione’s advanced Ancient
Rune’s notes. He watched this girl, this tiny little vixen trapped in the body of an angelic-faced
dragoness. He’d forgotten in the past month what exactly he had given up when he sent her away. But
how could he have kept up their relationship, whatever it may have been? Not with his secret…not
with his fate stuck in the way. And all she was asking was everything he had left. All he had was
the time he’d spent with her. It was what kept him going as he walked along biding his time. The
memory of her laughter, the vision of her face, the feeling of her touch…

*“So you want to know if I ever get tired of being a Malfoy?”*

*Ginny nodded slightly.*

*“Are you mad?”*

*“I’d rather be a Weasley than ever have to live the life of a Malfoy.”*

*“Give me one good reason why you’d rather be poor and shadowed by fifty brothers when you
could be the sole heir to an endless fortune?”*

*She’d paused before…*

*“Love.”*

“Draco…?”

His eyes snapped open. He’d barely even realized that he’d closed them in the first place. But
she was still in his mind, still in his heart, still teaching him, still chipping away at the
resolve he’d worked so many years to construct.

*“You’re never going to understand are you? That there are things more important than pride in
this world?”*

He wasn’t so sure that he didn’t understand now. But wasn’t pride all he had left? He was
supposed to accept his fate like an adult, like his *father*, the same fate he’d known he’d
been destined to since his birth. The fate of a death eater. A fate that would unavoidably end in
darkness.

Footsteps jogged his senses as he felt a large degree of warmth dissolve from the air around
him. She was leaving…

“Ginny…” He felt himself call her name but did not feel his legs carry him to her, nor did he
feel his arms reach out her grab her, pulling her against his body and holding onto her lithe form
as tightly as his arms could.

He felt the need for another human being so strongly at that moment that the intensity of the
emotion nearly brought him to his knees. The fear that he was acting like a fool nearly paralyzed
him, along with the dread that if he let her go he would lose her light forever, and as he faced
the darkest journey of his life, he knew that her light would be the guide that would see him
through to the other side, whether it be perilous turmoil or peace.

So enraptured by his own feelings, he barely felt her sobbing form quaking in his embrace. If
her arms had not been pinned to her sides by his tight embrace, Ginny would have turned around and
wrapped them around his body just as tightly as he held hers. Loaded tears slipped off of the curve
of her cheeks and landed on her jumper and Draco’s arms around her waist.

She inhaled between sobs, trying to move but unable to budge.

“Draco…” She whimpered, feeling as if she couldn’t stand it a moment longer if she couldn’t look
him in the eye.

His eyes flew open at the desperate edge in her voice, and he slowly eased his grip around her
though not fully releasing her. Ginny shifted and turned around to face him, her liquid hazel eyes
shaking with unshed tears. Draco’s face was paler than the moon that glowed above them, but he’d
never looked so beautiful to her in all the time she’d known him. And he truly was beautiful. She
lifted a hand to his face and trailed her thumb underneath his eye, wiping the stubborn wetness
that refused to slip.

In his eyes she thought she was watching a revolution occurring, complete with battle cries and
smoke and firearms. He was waging war against himself to hold her so close to his heart, and she
knew it as she witnessed the sparks fly in his irises.

“You don’t have to fight alone, Draco. You never had to…” She leaned her head against his chest
for a moment but immediately, he slipped his hand beneath her chin to bring her face back to where
he could see it.

“But…you don’t understand, Ginny. You don’t know what I’m—“

“That doesn’t matter to me, Draco! Can’t you see that? I’m not asking to understand…I’m just
asking for *you*. You don’t have to be alone, Draco…” She whispered shakily, choking on tears
as she fought to contain her composure. “I don’t want to be alone either. Not without you.” She
felt her heart seize up as each of these words left her lips, but she refused to let inhibitions
rule her any longer. It was time for honesty, and not time for obstinacy. She would give him all of
her, and in doing so, she would show him that she was sincere.

Reaching up to cradle his face in her hands, Ginny thought she was seeing the eyes of a child
staring back at her. Wide and afraid of new things, new ideas, new feelings. A vulnerable Draco was
something she’d caught glimpses of while he laughed or snippets of when he held her as she cried,
but now, he was laying out his soul for her to see, and she was moved in unimaginable ways by it
all.

Draco heard her promise and thought he’d never heard sweeter words before in his entire life.
Could it possibly work? Could he continue to adhere to his father’s wishes and be with this angel
who was so willingly sacrificing for him?

As the ghost of Ginny’s lips left tingling spots all over his face, he knew that he was in too
deep to turn back now. It had to work, because he was going to give himself this luxury that she
spoke so candidly of the first time they met. Of all the riches his father had ever given him, he’d
found someone who could match them all with one single emotion.

“Ginny…I…I’m s—“
“Sshhh…” She covered his lips with her fingertips. “You don’t have to say anything now.
Just…*feel*, Draco.” And she reached up with her hands and brought her face to his, molding
their mouths together in an embrace that sent shocks rushing from the ends of their hair to the
tips of their feet, darting in all directions like an eruption of beautiful chaos.

As Draco melted his lips with hers, he forgot about pride, he threw dignity to the winds, and he
allowed himself to *feel*. And he knew that if the Dark Lord came and took him away that very
moment, he would be able to survive any curse thrown his way if he could power his magic with this
single feeling. It was loaded with more than any spell he’d ever learned or dreamed of learning,
and it scared him senseless at the same time as it pummeled its way through his resolve, his plans
for the future, his heart and his soul. But then again, he was beginning to realize that with Ginny
Weasley nothing ever seemed to go according to plan.

Ginny felt her lungs burning, but she ignored them. Draco’s lips had never felt so right against
her own. Even their first real kiss hadn’t compared. It had been hasty and quick and awkward
afterwards. This time, she felt as if she was touching part of his soul and giving him hers in
turn. His arms were around her, and she’d snaked her up around his neck, standing on tiptoe to gain
leverage.

As their kiss deepened, neither was thinking clearly. The grass parted for their bodies to kneel
upon, and Draco held her close to him as they continued to explore each other. Ginny’s back was on
the grass and Draco was leaning over her, pouring his thoughts into her body through their
lips.

Soon, when she felt as if the intoxicating feel of his body against hers might suck her in and
never set her free, Ginny reluctantly broke apart. They were left wanting more, most notably, but
also feeling as if the weight of the world had been lifted from their shoulders. Ginny sighed
heavily, closing her eyes to revel in being so close to him. Draco was breathing deeply, probably
yearning more than she for an extended replay, but willing to be satisfied for now because there in
her eyes was a promise for more, and that was enough for him.

Both of them breathing deeply, they stayed in their protective embrace for a while, feeling the
other’s heartbeat, asking themselves why they felt so scared and pacified at the same time.
Finally, Ginny broke the silence.

“So, Draco…what’s your truth now?”

Looking at her with an unreadable expression, Draco shook his head slowly, trying to ebb away
the paralyzing fear of this new person who had taken over his body. He couldn’t ever be the same
person now, not with her at least. But he would never be the same person again; two months promised
him a whole new life—without Ginny Weasley. That was his truth, and it was everything that he could
not tell her.

“I don’t want to think about truths anymore, Ginny.” And he crashed his lips against hers again,
successfully altering her mindset into something less analytical.

Ginny left him hours later, her lips swollen and red, after having to practically force herself
to let him go. Nothing had ever felt so right to her as it had being in his arms.

At the door, Draco leaned against the frame, blonde hair askew and lips just as reddened as
hers.

“What do we do now?” Ginny whispered, toying with his long fingers in her hand. Draco reached up
and held her face in his hand.

“I don’t know, Gin.”

“Just promise me…that you won’t pull something like that again, alright?” She smiled gently at
him, eyes full of hope.

“Only if you promise never to let that smarmy arse, Thomas, touch you ever again.”

Ginny laughed at that and held out her hand automatically, which he took, feeling how perfectly
it fit in his own.

“Deal.” She reached up and placed a warm kiss on his cheek first and then his lips, stopping
before she wouldn’t be able to. Draco shifted on his feet awkwardly, something completely
uncharacteristic of him, and Ginny thought he’d never looked more adorable.

“Gin…I—erm…well, what I wanted to tell you was that…I’m really…well, I might be…just a
little—“

“Draco,” She laughed, shaking her head, “Apology accepted.”

As she started to walk away, a tiny tingle in the back of her mind reminded her of something
that had been bugging her about the argument he and Pansy had had earlier. She turned around,
finding that Draco was still watching her with an elusive expression on his face. Biting her lip,
she smiled softly and almost considered writing off the worry completely. But she wanted to start
off with a clean slate with him and not have a constant anxiety that he was being pursued by Pansy
Parkinson.

“Erm…Draco?” She looked at her feet. Draco walked down a few steps toward her and nodded,
waiting.

“I…I know that I shouldn’t have been listening…but I overheard you and-and Pansy earlier...”
Meeting his eye, Ginny looked for any sign of emotions that might pass through. The only indication
that he was fazed by her comment was a tiny flicker of silver.

“Don’t worry, Ginny. Pansy and I have been old news for some time now…she’s just the only one
who hasn’t received the memo quite yet.” He laughed dryly, and Ginny instantly recognized it as a
fake. Not one to be pacified so easily, she pressed on.

“But...what was it that she did for you? What did she want you to lo—“

“Ginny, look,” He cupped her cheek and kissed her softly and slowly on her lips, leaving her
legs wobbly. “You’ve nothing to worry over Pansy for. She’s been off her rocker since the start of
the year. She wanted to show me a-a love letter she’d written to me a while back. Quite sad,
really, but I—well you heard everything. I want nothing to do with her.”

Ginny bit her lip before saying, “Alright…I’m sorry, I just—“

He smothered Ginny’s next words of compliance with his mouth, and sent her off reeling with a
drunken-by-kiss haze clouding her eyes and a lightness she’d never felt in her chest. She gave an
unsteady wave as she went.

Once her shadow had disappeared down the steps, Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair
shakily.

*Merlin…what have I done now?*

The tingle of his arm answered him in a sinister voice that he’d let his guard down for that
girl and now he would be paying the consequences.

“Damn it!” He threw the rickety door closed, watching as it unhinged itself and clattered
noisily to the ground. Walking away from the mess, he rubbed his face with both hands, trying to
wipe away the look of dread.

He’d never felt so torn in all his life. There’d never been a choice between light and dark for
him before, and now he was being asked to choose. But how could he?

Soon, Ginny would want to know what had driven him away in the first place, and soon, he would
have to either tell her and risk their chance for a future or run away and abolish it completely.
He suddenly wished she was still in his arms, making him believe that anything was possible for the
two of them, that he could do anything as long as she was there.

*I am a fool, father…* He scolded himself, leaning against the wall of the room heavily.
*But…for her…I don’t think there’s any other way to be.*

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A few days later, Ginny found herself racing for the Great Hall, laughing madly and picking up
her robes so she wouldn’t fall and make an arse of herself. Rapidly approaching footsteps drew her
attention, but she threw open the doors and scrambled for the cluster of familiar Gryffindors at
the middle table.

“Hullo!” She plopped next to Collin and began to greedily fill her plate, trying to tame her
blushing cheeks and calm her breathing.

Hermione and Harry exchanged curious glances, but neither spoke. It was Ron, who was seated on
the opposite end of the bench from the new duo, that brought it to everyone’s attention that—

“You look like hell, Gin. Have you been forgetting to set your alarm again?” He noisily bit into
a muffin and chuckled at her glare of disdain.

Ginny was grateful, however, for his own assumption. It was a logical excuse anyway.

“Erm…right. Hailey’s bloody bird is a bit sore after I threw it out the window to see if alarm
crows could fly last week. I guess I forgot to fix it afterwards. Silly me…” She trailed off and
wondered if she’d said too much.

Collin laughed loudly and helped himself to some of her orange juice. “Excellent, Gin. That
thing was a menace anyway. You can borrow my Drowsing Dragon if you’d like. He spits fire if you
ignore him for more than fifteen minutes.” To prove his point, Collin muttered a disillusionment
spell, and his perfectly arched blonde eyebrows disappeared to reveal a set of blonde puff balls,
singed at the ends as if by fire.

Ginny immediately spit out her juice and had to laugh around her choking.

“Looks as if the barn let out one of its cows a bit early this morning, isn’t that right,
Weasley?”

Ginny wiped her mouth off and narrowed her eyes.

*You’ll be paying for that one later, Draco,* her glare said to him. Playing it off nicely
though, she told him exactly where he could stick his pompous nose and had him stalking off in a
rage not one minute later.

Ron snorted, “Looks like that slime woke up a bit late as well. Never seen him with a ruddy hair
out of place, and it look at it now. Quite comical actually—Oy, Gin, pass the eggs.”

Ginny shifted nervously and quickly handed over the eggs to him. She caught a glimpse of Draco
as he sat down by Crabbe and Goyle and nearly snorted herself at the appearance of his hair, askew
in all directions, and his expensive robes wrinkled to perfection. She knew a simple spell would
have straightened him out, but he always liked the fact that only the two of them knew why they
both looked like hell. This was his way of reminding her.

Ginny gulped down her juice and grabbed a muffin, mumbling a quick goodbye to her friends and
brother before racing out of the hall, citing a nasty potions essay that was calling her attention
before class.

When she entered the hall, she shoved through the courtyard doors and stepped into the early
morning sun. The cobblestone path glittered with dew, and she made her way carefully into the grass
so she wouldn’t slip.

When Draco’s arms snaked around her waist, five columns away from plain sight, she sighed and
leaned back into them comfortably.

“Farm animal, eh?” She asked impishly and turned to face his smug smile.

“All for the audience, Gin. I would have used something more grotesque, but having your brother
try to pound my brains out this early in the morning would just bloody ruin my day.”

Ginny sighed and ran a hand through her tangled hair. “We’ve got to stop falling asleep up
there, Draco. My roommates are going to start to notice sooner or—“
She’d been cut off as Draco leaned forward and captured her next words with his mouth, devouring
them and any others that would have followed.

When he’d finished with her, he gently broke off, admiring the dazed expression that was now
smothered over her face.

“—later.” Ginny finished coyly and smacked his arm. “And pinning me to the ground when it’s well
past midnight saying you’ll have nightmares if I don’t stay is a bit much, don’t you think?”

Draco shrugged. “Perhaps, but it worked, didn’t it?”

“I suppose…” Ginny smiled softly and wrapped her arms around him. “Git.”

“Weasel.”

“Snorer.”

“I do not snore!” Draco glared at her defiantly.

“Do too!”
“Do not! You have no proof!”

“Only my nearly ruined ear drums!”

“You’re insufferable, Weasley.”

“And you love it, *Malfoy*.” Ginny smiled cheekily and began to walk away before she was
late for class. Draco grabbed her arm and pulled her against him one last time, and she took a few
precious seconds to inhale his musky cologne before he released her. She did not fail to note the
urgent way he wrapped his arms around her waist, as if worried that she might disappear if he let
go.

“I’ll meet you after dinner, alright?” She whispered, slowly disengaging her arms from around
his torso, as if to reassure him that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Draco nodded, letting the cloud of meager worry dissolve from his eyes, and looked sourly at her
tangled auburn curls. “Don’t forget to comb out that mop though. It really doesn’t suit you that
well.”

Ginny scoffed at him and hit him across his chest. “You’re such a prat!”

“And you love it.”

Shaking her head, Ginny sighed and walked off. “Merlin, help me—I actually *do*.”

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Ginny rushed to her History of Magic lesson, praying to Merlin that she wouldn’t be late and
have to miss an evening with Draco while she was forced to clean up Professor Binns’ leftovers from
a dinner that he insisted on eating (even though they went straight through his body) during
detention.

“Ginny! Ginny! Wait up!” Hermione panted and rushed up to meet the sprinting red head whose much
longer legs were a feat to catch up with.

Ginny pulled to a halt right outside of her classroom and waited for Hermione to jog over to
her.

Laughing, she offered her arm to take Hermione’s heavy text books off her hands so she could get
her bearings.

“All right there, Hermione?” She patted the sixth year’s shoulder concernedly.

Hermione nodded, gasping and trying to gain her ability to speak. “Perhaps I should think of
taking up a sport next semester. I’m way too out of shape to keep up with you these days.”

Ginny nodded incredulously, “Of course, Hermione. And risk missing precious hours of study time
on weeknights when you have grueling practices that would undoubtedly fatigue you to the point of
not even giving a damn about class anymore?”

Hermione blanched. “Right. Guess I’ll be eating your dust for a bit longer then, eh?”

Ginny shrugged and laughed, “What was it you wanted to talk about, Herm?”

Hermione’s face lost a bit of its good-natured glow, and she bit her lip nervously. “I-I just
was wondering if everything’s been alright lately. I mean…today was the third morning you were late
to breakfast, and no one knows where you’re always running off to after lessons. I-we’re just
worried is all.”

Ginny’s eyes darkened. “You mean you and *Ron* were worried?”

Hermione immediately shook her head, “Ginny, Ron would barely give me the time of day right now.
I’ve no idea what’s going on with him. I just want to make sure *you’re* alright. For both of
our sakes.”

Ginny scoffed, “I’m fine thank you, as if it’s any of your business.”

Hermione’s wince made her wish she hadn’t been so cold. “I know it’s not, Gin. But you’ve been
doing so well lately. It just seems odd that this pattern of behavior has started to arise out of
no where…just like it was before—“

“Before *what*, Hermione?” Ginny challenged her with her gaze, hoping against hope that she
wouldn’t bring Draco into this. She wasn’t ready for that yet.

“Look, Gin. If this has to do with Draco, then I really must insist that you take some time to
think about what you’re doing before continuing on with him. Think about your family, Ginny. What
would your parents think? What would—“
“How dare you act as if you’re my care taker!” Ginny spat, moving away from the door so they
wouldn’t be overheard. “I am fully capable of making my own decisions, and I don’t need you telling
me what to do. But since you’ve so tactfully brought up Draco’s name, Hermione, just when were you
planning on telling me the truth about who *really* caught me that day?”

At that, Hermione’s face drained a bit of color, and Ginny smirked at it as if satisfied.

“That’s what I thought. But I’ll bet you loved your precious Harry being in the spotlight again,
didn’t you?”

“Ginny!” Hermione looked stricken by her words and felt her eyes spark with moisture. “You don’t
know what you’re saying! We didn’t want you to know because we thought it would upset you too much.
All anyone wants is for you to be happy.”

“Well, if that’s what you want then I can give you one quick way to achieve it—Leave me the hell
alone!”

“Pardon me, children, but class is about to begin. Will you be staying, Ms. Granger, or will
*one* lesson suffice for the day?” Professor Binn’s diaphanous body drifted in the doorway,
and Hermione quickly gave a rushed apology before darting in the opposite direction to her own
class.

Ginny watched her go with shadowed eyes.

*Great. Now I feel like a real jerk…* Sighing dejectedly, she decided she’d set aside a few
minutes before meeting Draco to apologize to her friend on the condition that she kept her nose in
her own business from now on.

Seated next to Luna in the farthest row of seats, Ginny withdrew her materials and pretended to
be taking notes as Binns droned on and on about that Ashwash character.

“I take it things are going well between you and the young Mr. Malfoy?”

Ginny dropped her quill and nearly choked on her tongue. “Luna!” She whispered harshly. Luna’s
face remained transfixed on the front of the room, and Ginny shook her head.

“Can’t get a thing past you, can I, Lovegood?”

A small wink from Luna’s eye was the only indication that, no, she could not.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Ginny walked in a haze through the busting bodies that filled the corridors, feeling as if for
the first time in weeks, she wasn’t just going through the motions of life anymore.

She lifted her fingertips to brush them against her lips, still warm from Draco’s heated kisses,
and felt a surge of excitement flare through her chest. He’d ducked out from behind a bush on her
way back from her Herbology lesson and, needless to say, they’d spent the better part of lunch
quenching their hunger for each other’s lips rather than food. She smiled secretively to herself
and continued towards her common room.

The dense traffic nearly swallowed her as she tried to walk against the grain, and no one
noticed when a pale hand reached out from the shadows and yanked her roughly through a doorway,
sending a shiver of fear up her spine.

Shadows stirred and the drone of chattering students hummed somewhere behind her, and as her
lungs closed up against the trepidation penetrating her body, Ginny felt herself drowning in
darkness. As she fought to gain her bearings and gritted her teeth against the claw-like nails that
were digging into her arm, she knew she could not have screamed if she tried to.

She merely stared into a pair of ominous, murky eyes that was the only other indication that she
was not alone.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

**AN: First off, no, Draco and Ginny have not done “the deed” yet. Hopefully I wasn’t
misleading, but nothing but innocent steamy kisses and all that mush have gone down so far!
:-D**

**Secondly, the wait—Oh…the WAIT.** **I’m terribly sorry. I promised one week, and then the
fates promised me that everything that could possibly go wrong in one’s life would go wrong in
mine. I’m not going to bore you all with the details, but let’s just say that my job has recently
taken it upon themselves to fire ten people, thus leaving the five of us remaining to slave away
all hours of the day and night to make up for the loss. This leaves little time to write much less
do homework, but hopefully, you’ll think it was worth the wait! (That wasn’t the details, hard as
it is to believe)**

**Anyways, let me know (especially!) if I did Draco and Ginny any justice at all in this
chapter. You may notice a bit of OOC in Draco this time, but considering the emotional turmoil he’s
been going through, I think a bit of vulnerability is to be expected.**

**Hope to hear from you all soon! Excellent reviews last chapter!**

**PS: Like my cliffie? ;-) mwuah ha ha ha! (****ß****I never was good at those
Voldie-type laughs)**



13. Safter in Silence
---------------------

“To be or not to be a Weasley”

Chapter 13: Safer in Silence

By: Adrial

*---------------------------------------------------------------------*

Who can say where the road goes
Where the day flows?
Only time...

And who can say if your love grows
As your heart chose?
Only time...

Who can say why your heart sighs
As your love flies?
Only time...

Who can say when the roads meet,
That love might be,
In your heart?

And who can say when the day sleeps
The moon still keeps on moving
If the night keeps all your heart?


“Only Time” By: Enya

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Ginny struggled for a moment in the darkness, feeling an intense trail of fire piercing her skin
as dragon-like finger nails sliced red streaks on her wrists.

“Let go, you!” She shouted and tried twisting her aggressor’s hands back like pretzels.

“Shut up, Weasley, or I’ll snap you like a twig!”

Ginny gasped at the sound of a female’s voice. It struck a familiar chord in Ginny’s mind, and
she immediately felt a surge of hate.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, Parkinson?” Ginny hoarsely demanded and rubbed
her reddened wrists when the latter finally released her vise-like grip.

“Just shut up, OK?” Pansy lit the end of her wand, illuminating the small storage room they were
in and her scowling face. Ginny kept silent, but not because of Pansy’s command. She nearly gasped
in horror at the dark, shadowed curtain that had befallen Pansy’s usually rosy cheeked face. She
had never been drastically beautiful, no, but something about her now seemed to scream out to
Ginny, as if she’d been through a war and came back with a wounded soul. Her sallow cheeks were no
longer full and dimply, and the dull hue of brown that colored her eyes had been tinged by a bland,
grey ring that spoke of many sleepless nights.

“Is there a reason you’ve decided to *dis*grace me by your presence, Parkinson, or were you
going for someone else and simply misjudged your aim?”

Pansy chose not to speak for a moment and checked her temper carefully. It was better to get
this through with quickly.

“Listen, Weasley. I’m about to do you a big favor, and it would be nice if you’d shut that great
fat mouth of yours and pay attention.” She glared daggers at Ginny, and Ginny glared back in
challenge.

“How could you possibly do me a favor? You hate me.” Ginny reasoned icily.

Pansy’s gaze faltered for a moment as she seemed to be struggling internally with whatever it
was she’d come here to do. Finally, as if something had struck her, Pansy nodded.

“Listen…I—“ She suddenly sucked in deep breath and gritted her teeth as if someone had just
burned her. Ginny’s brow furrowed and she had to her catch herself before she asked if she was OK.
Pansy hissed in evident pain for a second before shaking her head and facing Ginny once again.

“Draco’s in trouble.” Pansy let her sentence hang in the air and run in and out of Ginny’s mind.
Ginny swallowed and tried to mask her look of shock.

“Why should I care?” She tore her gaze away from Pansy’s and fiddled disinterestedly with the
frayed end of her robe.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Weasley. I know about you two. I know…” She gritted her teeth
again, “I know that he cares about you. I know a hell of a lot more than I’d like to,
actually.”

Ginny’s heart clenched. Had Draco told her? How could she be sure that Pansy wasn’t playing some
sick game with her?

“The fact is, little girl, that if Draco goes on caring about you, no matter how damn hard he
tries to conceal it from the rest of the world, it’s going to get him killed.”

Ginny’s eyes snapped back up to face her. “You’re lying.”

Pansy shook her head silently. “I’m no liar, Weasley. In less than two months, Draco’s going to
get on a train to Merlin knows where and if he leaves with your face still plastered over his
heart, he’s…he’s not going to be coming back.”

“And what makes you think that I’ll believe you?” Ginny’s tone wasn’t as sure of itself as it
had been, and she twisted her fingers nervously. This had to be a lie…

Pansy growled and slammed her fist into the wall. “Because, God damn it, Weasley! I’m telling
you the fucking truth!” She tore herself from the wall and grabbed Ginny’s shoulders, ramming her
into the spot where her fist had connected.

With one hand she released Ginny’s shoulder and lifted the sleeve of her cloak. Horrified, Ginny
clamped a sweaty hand over her mouth and stared at the glaring dark tattoo on Pansy’s forearm—the
same skull she’d seen 2 years before as she stumbled blindly through the forest during the
Quidditch World Cup. The familiar serpent glared back at her, threatening to tear away from Pansy’s
skin and strike out at her. Pansy’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.

“Believe you me, Ginny Weasley, I am not lying about this. This isn’t some sugar-coated bullshit
that your mummy and daddy are feeding you. This is life. Now, you need to make sure,” She covered
up her arm gingerly again, “that when Draco leaves, he leaves with*out* you on his mind. And I
can assure you, They will be able to read him like a book. The minute They see any sign of you in
his face, he’ll be Dark Lord History.”

Ginny’s lips quivered, and the sting of tears threatened to pour from her eyes. “So what are you
telling me? That in a month Draco’s going to—“

But Pansy was covering Ginny’s mouth and shoving her aside. The door opened slowly and a tiny
house elf walked in whistling. He grabbed a discarded feather duster and left, bouncing on the
balls of his feet merrily.

Pansy released her grip on Ginny’s arm and quickly whispered into her ear.

“I don’t care how you do it, Weasley, but if you love him as much as I think you do, then you
will make damn sure that he gets on that train hating your bloody guts.”

Ginny’s confusion turned to anger as this girl threatened her so freely. “How can you possibly
accuse me of loving *him*? You don’t even know me!”

Pansy laughed hollowly, “I don’t have to *know* you, Weasley.” She paused and drew Ginny’s
chin closer to her face, staring intensely into her eyes.

“All I have to do is take one look in those pretty little brown eyes of yours to see it.”

Ginny’s lips trembled, but she tried to mask her discomfort by brushing her hair aside and
looking down at the floor awkwardly. Pansy was emitting such a cold aura that she felt her very
insides tingle and shiver; it was as if the black stain on her pale arm was reaching out and
gripping Ginny about her neck.

“Y-You don’t know—“

“Save it, Weasley.” Pansy shook her head with a lethal glint in her eyes, “Just do as I
said.”

She made to leave, but Ginny suddenly scrambled forward, grabbing her shoulder gently. Pansy
recoiled as if she’d been burned, and Ginny let go immediately, though keeping her eyes locked on
hers.

“I just…I just need to know why you’ve decided to tell me this.”

Pansy turned towards the door and gripped the handle until her knuckles turned white. For a
moment, Ginny thought she might leave without responding, but suddenly Pansy’s shoulders
straightened and she twisted the knob.

“Because…I loved him, too.” With that, she slipped through the door and left Ginny submerged in
the dark, fighting to erase the dark mark from her memory.

Ginny walked numbly out of the dusty room. The last of the afternoon lingerers were slowly
making their way back to their common rooms or to class, but Ginny hardly noticed them. Scenes were
flooding her memory like sand through a sieve, clogging her insides with castles of confusion.

She was back in the rain, feeling her skin soaked through and her bewilderment at the boy who
stood before her. She was furrowing her brow, watching as he gingerly massaged his forearm. She
felt the smooth fabric of his robes between her fingers as her own hand closed around them.

*“Are you hurt? Dean didn’t get to you, did he?”*

*“Keep your hands off me, Weasley!”*

*“What is the matter with you, Draco? Tell me!”*

*“Nothing. I mean…just leave, alright! Just…LEAVE!!”*

Ginny’s hand flew to her mouth. It couldn’t be…

*“Go back to your bloody house and forget you ever knew me! GO!!”*

Cold stone connected with her back as she leaned heavily against the wall. Voices were droning
around her, but she could still practically hear the rain as it beat against the stone floor of the
courtyard what felt like ages ago. Draco’s eyes, shadowed by a veil she had not been able to
discern as such, were staring at her. She tried to open her eyes to flee from the image of his face
boring so intensely into her own, but after blinking several times, she realized that she wasn’t
dreaming.

Her lip quivered, and she quickly tried to stop it. Draco stared at her from the other end of
the hallway as if watching a doe in the forest, daring not to disturb it in case it fled.

*Draco…*

Suddenly, the world came crashing in around her, and she pushed away from the wall, racing as
fast as she could in the opposite direction. She could feel Draco’s clouded eyes watching her; she
knew he must be wondering what had gotten into her, why she’d run, what was the matter with her,
but she also knew that as long as there were people around her, he wouldn’t dare come near enough
to ask.

Squinting her eyes, Ginny urged her oncoming headache to bugger off and bother someone else. It
persisted, however, and as she stumbled quickly through the portrait hole, she felt as if the world
was still caving in around her.

“Gin, I’ve been looking bloody everywhere for you!” Ron lumbered over to her, annoyance written
across his features.

Ginny groaned and tried to bypass him quickly with a nod of recognition. He, however, was
unwilling to let her go so easily. Grabbing her forearm, he pulled her to a halt.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, Gin?” Ron’s piercing eyes bore into her own, and Ginny could
barely stand it.

*Please…not now,* she silently pleaded.

“Answer me!” Ron bellowed and shook her slightly. It was all Ginny could do to bite back her
tears of frustration.

Pansy’s warnings were echoing off of her brain, bouncing ridiculously around like some
over-zealous pixie whose sole mission in life was to engrave the words onto her skull.

*“Draco’s in trouble…”*

“Let me go, Ronald!” Ginny fought against his much stronger arms, scratching them with her nails
like a cat being doused with water.

“Tell me what’s got you so bloody upset, Gin!”

*“…he’s not going to be coming back.”*

“Urgh—It’s none of your damn business!” Ginny roared and tried to stomp his feet while beating
his chest with her fists. Her arms began to feel limp and she was ashamed to feel hot moisture
leaving wet trails on her cheeks.

“Would you just calm down and talk to me, Gin? I’m just trying to help!”

“If you care so much about me, Ron, then why don’t you leave me the fuck ALONE?!”

With her words, Ron immediately unclenched his hands from around her arms, and Ginny stumbled
away from him. She lashed the back of her hand across her face, trying to see through her tears the
startled faces of everyone in the common room. Someone was placing a warm hand on the small of her
back, whispering comfortingly into her ear, and Ginny sobbed loudly before pushing them away.

“Leave me be! I-I just—“ Her vision began to swirl and she swayed on her feet. Hermione’s voice
was now close to her again, arms were wrapped around her waist, but Ginny could barely feel any of
it.

*“The minute They see any sign of you in his face, he’ll be Dark Lord History.”*

“NO!” Voices rumbled outside her mind like a raging sea lapping at her eardrums. Her insides
cramped and felt as if they were on fire. She wasn’t sure what was happening to her, but the
approaching darkness was all too alluring to her tired nerves.

“Please…just leave…” She muttered those last words before finally passing out, and her raging
sea roared to a halt.

--------------------------------------------------------

Soft murmurs filled the air around her, and she considered faking sleep for another hour or so
before having to face the world again. It was so much safer in silence.

Her body, however, had other plans in mind, and Ginny snapped up in the springy bed that was
foreign to her, looking wildly around for a bowl, a bucket, ANYTHING that she could use at the
moment.

As if to answer her prayers, a shiny aluminum trash bin was placed directly on the side of her
bed, and she wasted no time in pulling back her hair and emptying the contents of her stomach from
the last week or so into it.

“Oh, dear…she’s awake.” Madame Pomfrey’s voice came from somewhere near, but Ginny was too
occupied to look up.

A soft hand fell onto her back, rubbing in soft circles as Ginny finally finished.

“Ugghh…” Groaning, she lifted her body back into a sitting position, hating the rancid flavor on
her tongue and the burning trail of fire her vomit had run up her throat. Her entire midsection was
screaming as if her ribs had been broken in half.

“Please tell me I’m going to die and never have to feel this again.” She tried to focus her
vision on the bodies in front of her and finally could make out Hermione’s warm brown eyes and the
round rims of Harry’s glasses.

“We hate to be the bearers of bad news, but Madame Pomfrey expects a full recovery out of you,
Gin.”

Ginny groaned again and Harry chuckled bemusedly.

“What’s so bloody funny, Pot-pot-pott-uuuggghh…”

Hermione cringed and Harry patted her shoulder softly until Ginny retracted her head from the
bin again.

“Here, Gin,” Hermione handed the younger girl a damp rag, which Ginny gratefully accepted. She
wiped the clamminess from her forehead and scrubbed her mouth until it was raw.

“What the hell happened to me?” She finally asked and drew a hand over her eyes to shield them
from the piercing light of the room. “Am I in the infirmary?”

The bed squeaked as Hermione rose and picked up her wand from Ginny’s bedside table. She
muttered a cleaning spell beneath her breath and the bin sparkled clean again.

“There…now I might be able to think clearly.”

Ginny bit her lip, “Sorry.”

Hermione laughed and sat again beside her, “Don’t worry, Gin. Madame Pomfrey’s sure you’ve only
come down with this flu that’s been going around. See?” She gestured towards a plastic tube that
resembled a wand filled with sparkling blue liquid. Picking it up, she inserted it into Ginny’s
mouth before she was able to protest. After a few seconds, the tiny tube began to vibrate, and
Hermione extracted it.

Ginny peered at the familiar device and nodded when she saw that the blue liquid had lowered to
the bottom section labeled “FLU-BUG.”

“That would explain the barf bucket, then…” Ginny sighed and leaned her head back onto her
pillow. After a moment or two, she darted back into a sitting position as if something had struck
her.

“Oh, no! Harry, we’ve got a match tomorrow!”

Harry looked as if he was struggling to remain optimistic, but when Hermione glanced at him
warningly, he sobered up and offered Ginny a bright smile.

“Don’t worry, Gin. Only you, Jordan, Kellins, Andrea, and Steven are out with the bug. We’ve
still got Ron and Christopher…and then there’s that new beater, Irvin…”

Ginny rolled her eyes incredulously, “Harry, just who do you think you’re kidding? Christopher
weighs about as much as the quaffle itself and Irvin couldn’t beat a beach ball with a tennis
racket.”

“Ginny!” Hermione reprimanded her, but Ginny was already diving head-first into the bucket,
realizing that any dreams she had of a quick recovery would be slim to none.

“Ahem,” Madame Pomfrey appeared near the foot of Ginny’s bed, two slim hands placed on her hips.
“I believe somebody needs a bit of rest, don’t you two?” Her rhetoric had the desired effect and
Hermione and Harry began to bow out quietly.

“Feel better, Gin.” Harry waved as he exited, and Hermione smiled brightly beside him.

“Yes, and don’t worry about a thing! I’ll make sure to get all of your assignments from your
professors for the rest of the week. That way you’ll be all caught up by Monday!”

Ginny tried to look appreciative but thankfully the dull olive tone of her skin was excuse
enough not to be giddy about doing Potions on her sick bed. She was silently relieved that Hermione
had obviously forgiven her for her outburst earlier in the day. However, the meaningful look she
cast towards her as she followed Harry out spoke of a long conversation to come about that
particular incident.

“That’s lovely, now shoo! Off with the both of you!” Madame Pomfrey waved them off but before
Hermione left, Ginny spoke.

“Erm…What about Ron?” She bit her lip, dreading the answer. She’d been horrible to him after
all.

Hermione frowned deeply and shrugged, “He helped bring you here after you fainted, but I haven’t
seen him since. I’m sorry, Gin.”

Ginny nodded silently and then was left alone in silence. She lay back with a sigh, feeling too
weak to think and too eager to forget the troubling things she had yet to mull over. Drowsy waves
of slumber lapped at her eyelids enticingly and she swayed with the mellow current, dosing in and
out of consciousness until Madame Pomfrey’s mutterings over her head pulled her out.

“Oh, good. I’ve just been spraying your linen. Sit up a bit, dear, I’ve got to change your
pillowcase. Nasty little beasts, these bugs.” She was wearing a weird mesh mask over her face and
held in her hand a glass canister labeled “BUG B’GONE”. Ginny was suddenly attacked by an onslaught
of coughs as she sprayed the orange mist all over her bed.

“Bugs, did you *cough* say?” With a grimace, Ginny sat up gingerly and made sure the bucket was
still beside her bed—just in case.

Madame Pomfrey nodded absently, “Of course, bugs! Haven’t you just come down with the flu,
dear?”

Ginny wanted to ask, *Aren’t you the nurse here?,* but chose to swallow the remark.

“Oh, great goblins!” Madame Pomfrey exclaimed and kneeled onto the bed to spray enthusiastically
at a spot on her mattress. Ginny covered her mouth to escape the fumes of the putrid smelling spray
and peered over Poppy’s shoulder at the now orange blob on her bed. In the center lay a struggling
blue bug with bright green spots, about the size of a galleon, laying on its back and struggling
against the sticky blanket it was now covered in.

“What *is* that thing?” Ginny felt bile run to her throat and jumped off of the bed quite
ungracefully.

Poppy whipped out her wand and in a puff of pink smoke, the strange bug was gone along with the
orange goop.

“Standard Flu Bug. Originated in South Africa in the thirteenth century. Nasty little trick the
natives decided to play on a few of their rivals. They slipped a few them in their meals one night,
and it only took a century for it to spread across the map.”

Ginny furrowed her brow, “I didn’t know the flu…was actually a *bug*.”

“Yes, well, now you do. Muggles still believe it started with some pig off in the countryside,
but I’ll have you know that there existed pranksters even more foul than your *brothers* all
that time ago—and we’re still reaping the consequences.” She shook a finger at Ginny to impress her
point.

“So, how…I mean…have I been *bitten* by that thing?” She swallowed. Surely she would have
noticed a bug as big as that crawling into her bed before.

“Oh, no, not at all. They leave along a trail wherever they go. Whoever steps in its path
immediately contracts the disease. They’re totally untraceable unless they feel threatened by
extinction, and that little nuisance was one of the last in the castle. Thankfully we’ve traced
them back to Hagrid. He seemed to have brought in a few of them with some Bowtruckles one day. The
poor soul was a mess for a day or so, but I gave him a job to help along that cheered him right
up.”

Ginny frowned and felt as if she should have responded, but all she wanted to do was dive
beneath her warm sheets again and be doused in ice cold water at the same time. This was
*some* bug.

“Oh, heavens, child! You’re shivering like a grindylow in the Arctic! You get back beneath those
blankets right this instant and I’ll fetch you something to warm you up.”

Ginny took her newly de-bugged sheets back gratefully and crawled between them.

Poppy tutted over to a glass cabinet of vials and retracted a small tube of funny looking red
liquid.

“This ought to do the trick,” She poured the contents into a tin cup for Ginny and had her tip
her head back, “You’re lucky I’ve got a drop left. I was nearly tapped out by the lot of your mates
coming in here over the past week.” As she muttered, Ginny felt as if she were single-handedly
pouring gasoline down her throat and had dropped a lit match in right after.

“Oh, dear, it’s only a bit of Dragon’s Breath potion! It works wonders!” She sniffed at the air
as if offended by Ginny’s gasping and choking sounds. “I formulated the potion myself along with
Professor Sprout *years* ago. You’d be best to drink up and quit your moaning.”

Ginny spluttered a bit and felt more like dying. And then, when her insides felt as if they were
licking flames against her skin, the most incredible feeling of comfort flowed through her, from
her cheeks right down to her toes. Her shivers ceased and the aches of her abdomen dulled to an
occasional throb.

“Oh, thank *Merlin.*” Ginny sighed and plopped back on her bed.

Poppy huffed and capped the bottle before walking briskly away. “I’ll have your supper in a
moment. Try to get a bit of rest.”

Ginny mumbled something incoherent and instantly fell into a heavy sleep. The window beside her
bed rattled gently as round yellow eyes looked at the peaceful dreamer inquisitively. Seconds
later, with a satisfied glint, they turned to the sky and were gone.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione cradled her books in her arms and stifled a yawn. It was well past eleven and she still
hadn’t quite tweaked her Ancient Runes exposé as rigorously as she’d intended. She’d been horribly
distracted, primarily by Harry, who, despite the hour (and he was usually one to pass out by ten),
had decided that standing behind and her massaging her shoulders while she read would help her
think better. It had exactly the *opposite* effect.

After a few minutes of begging him to leave her alone until she finished, he’d finally given up
and taken a seat on one of their arm chairs to wait. She hadn’t even dotted her next ‘i’ when she
heard his soft snoring from behind her back.

She glanced at his sleeping form, noticing how his eyelids would twitch every once in a while,
closing her out from his world of dreams.

“Goodnight, Harry…” She leaned over and kissed him on his forehead, almost feeling his scar
sizzle beneath her lips. Harry merely sighed contentedly and murmured her name though he refused to
open his eyes.

Hermione felt her heart floating in her chest as her face broke into a dreamy smile. She sighed,
fighting her exhaustion’s pleas to leave him for the night when all her emotions wanted her to do
was sit there and watch him sleep until he awoke.

The grandfather clock broke the moment with the arrival of midnight, and she stood reluctantly,
feeling her eyes droop sleepily, and ran her fingers through his ebony hair gently.

“Sleep well, Harry…I love you.”

Ron’s footsteps froze in place. He felt his chest threaten to explode from the thumping of his
heart, but all he could do was watch this girl, his best friend, give her heart to someone
else—someone other than himself. All this time he’d thought—he’d *hoped*—that he might still
have a chance. But now…?

Now, he wanted to run over to her and tear her away from Harry. He wanted to scream and shout
until his lungs imploded from the effort and she felt how much this was hurting him. He wanted her
to reach back out and frantically steal those words from reality and hold them in her heart, safe
and protected, until *he* brought them out again.

“Ron? I-I didn’t see you standing there.” Hermione stood nervously and squeezed her arms tighter
around her books like a lone knight with a shield. She felt the urge to check Harry, to make sure
he was still sleeping soundly, but she kept her eyes locked on Ron’s, and she felt every emotion
that was tearing through them as if they were reaching out and grabbing her around the throat.

“I haven’t been here long.” Ron heard himself speak but didn’t feel the words leaving his
mouth.

“I was just going to bed…”

“Oh, right…me, too. I-erm…long day and everything.”

“Right, of course…” Hermione nodded awkwardly and gathered the rest of her belongings before
walking quickly towards Ron and the exit.

As she made to brush past him, Hermione felt Ron’s hand on her forearm and stopped abruptly.

“Ron…not now, please.” She stared at the floor, imploring him with her silence to let well
enough alone for the moment.

“Wait, Herm…Hermione,” He cleared his throat, covering his falter. “Did you…did you mean what
you just said?”

At that, Hermione brought her gaze up until her brown eyes locked with his blue. He looked like
a child then, and her heart softened. She nodded slowly, feeling as if every crack of his heart
were echoing in her own, and she knew that it would be an even longer while until things were back
to “normal” for the three of them.

“I meant it, Ron. I’ve meant it for some time now…I—“ She stopped when Ron raised a hand for her
silence.

“No, Hermione. You don’t have to say anything else. That’s all I needed to know.” Ron pursed his
lips and glanced briefly at Harry’s sleeping form, then back to Hermione’s wide eyes.

“Goodnight, Hermione…I’ll…I guess I’ll see you at breakfast then.”

Hermione could barely find words to speak, she was so startled. Did this mean that it was over?
Had they been forgiven? Was Ron…finally *Ron* again?

She bit her lip and gave a soft nod, keeping her eyes focused on his, trying to analyze and read
him to figure out what was going through is mind. His soft laughter shook her from her intense
thought process.

She furrowed her brow and stared at him, watching him chuckle freely.

“What? What is it?”

Ron shook his head and sighed, “I’m not a math equation, Herm. You can’t solve me that
easily.”

Hermione shrugged, “Well considering the person I’ve got to deal with, I’ve got no other choice
but to figure you out this way. You won’t even *look* at me anymore, Ron.”

Ron locked his eyes on hers. “Fine then, I’m looking at you *now*, Hermione. What do you
see?”

She hadn’t expected that at all. She stared at him and tried to recognize her old friend, the
one who would incessantly badger her and harass her study habits, the one she could always count on
to balance things out when they were off-center in the world, the only other person she had ever
shared her most treasured secret with, even if he didn’t realize it himself. That secret was Harry.
She had never realized how not telling him would hurt him even more.

“I-I don’t know what I see, Ron. All I want is for things to be better than this. For all our
sakes. Harry…,” She took a moment to look at his silent body on the couch. “He needs you, Ron.”

Ron scoffed and looked away, but Hermione grabbed his arm and turned him back to her.
“And I *know* that *you* need him just as much.” She continued carefully, “And…*I*
need you, too, Ron.”

Ron’s eyes sparked at her words, but his resolve remained steadfast. He sighed and looked away
from her eyes.

“I find that very hard to believe. Even my own sister doesn’t need me. Why should you, when
you’ve got *him*?”

Hermione shook her head exasperatedly, “You’re missing my point, Ron! *Listen* to me. I
don’t need you like I need Harry, Ron. I need my best friend back. That’s something that only you
can give me. Harry needs the same from you. We want you back in our lives because we aren’t the
same without you. And as for Ginny…” She trailed off, swallowing the well of worries she had for
the girl until a more appropriate time. “She’s just growing up, Ron. She doesn’t need a father from
you. She needs a brother to care for her, not treat her like an eleven year old on her first day of
school.”

“And what if I said that I can’t give any of you what you want? What if I’m not any of those
bloody people any more?!”
Harry stirred as Ron’s voice escalated, but thankfully his dreams were too demanding of his time
for him to wake up.

Hermione walked closer towards the stairs, pulling Ron with her. When Ron looked into her eyes
sparking with familiar honey hued lightening, he was hit with a pang of nostalgia.

“I don’t care who you think you are, Ronald Weasley, but until you figure it out, you’re hurting
me, you’re hurting Harry, and you’re hurting your sister. If that’s worth the sacrifice, then by
all means, go ahead and “find yourself.” But don’t bring everyone else down with you in the
process.”

She huffed and whirled around and up the stairs, nearly at her wits end with the boy. Ron glared
at her back, grinding her words through his mind with his jaw locked. What did she know anyway? She
was the one hurting *him*, after all.

“Oy…what’s going on…? Ron?” Harry gazed blearily around him without his glasses on and tried to
focus on Ron’s red head in the distance.

Ron’s blood boiled and he scoffed loudly, “Nothing, Potter. Go back to dream land and forget
about it. You’ve won.”

Harry murmured something in response to Ron’s bitter words, but before he could grasp the
confines of consciousness firmly, Ron was gone and he was left alone with the dying embers of a
fire to cast lonely shadows across his face.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Not one hour after Madame Pomfrey had extinguished her office lamp and left for a good night’s
sleep, the door to the infirmary slid open and a dark shadow spilled across the floor. Rows of
empty beds glowing with moonlight went unnoticed before the intruder’s steady gaze, except for
one.

Ginny mumbled something in her sleep and rolled over, facing the stranger who walked slowly
towards her, black clad and stealthy so as not to wake her.

“Mrow!”

The swish of a tail and slight spring of a nearby mattress caused the figure to whirl around in
annoyance. Mrs. Norris stopped at the door to eye the stranger with fixed yellow eyes before
pouncing off in search of Filch, no doubt.

When three achingly long minutes had passed, the door to the infirmary cracked open and Filch
came lumbering through, sniffing the air like a hound dog, thirsting for fresh student meat to feed
on (or at least give detention).

All that met him, however, was Ginny’s soundly sleeping form, racked by occasional shivers that
shook her body as well as her bed frame, and the whir of wind behind the thick windows.

Filch eyed the room for a moment longer and went up and down the rows of beds twice before
grumbling beneath his breath (“Ruddy brats.”) and stalking out of the room for more promising
ventures.

The door clicked shut, and the room was engaged in silence once more. The bed Ginny lay sleeping
in jerked slightly as the inky intruder emerged from beneath it. Brushing off dark black robes that
were highlighted by streaks of moonlight, the silent form sat on an opposing bed, watching Ginny’s
pale face as she slept on.

“Sleep well…” Was the whisper that left lips stained by cold as the wind drowned out the sound
of squeaking bed springs and clinks as he reached deep into his robes and retrieved a carefully
wrapped blue bottle that was sloshing inside with liquid. Tipping back Ginny’s head carefully, he
watched with precision as the contents of the bottle flowed accurately down her throat, mindful of
its duty and having never failed him before.

----------------------------------------------------------

Silently entranced by the languid dance of dreams as they sifted in and out of her vision, Ginny
curled deeper into sleep and willed away the ache of sickness and intense cold of fever. So
overpowering was the frostiness of her insides that she was sure that in the black curtain that had
fallen over her body, she could see her breaths leaving in short, white puffs.

It was then that she knew she could no longer be sleeping. Everything was dark, but she felt
awake, alert, and all too aware that she was not alone. The springy mattress from the infirmary was
gone, and her feet were planted on the frigid stone floor, empty beds surrounding her.

“W-What…?” Ginny wrapped her arms around her waist, hoping for the hazy cloud in her mind to
dissipate so she could think clearly.

“Welcome, dreamer...”

Ginny’s thoughts halted abruptly. Shadows were stirring around her, whispering amongst one
another, snickering at the innocent who had been lured into their possession.

“Wh-who’s—“

“Ask nothing, dreamer. Only see the truth…”

Ginny barely had time to scream as a horrific face with black holes for eyes and a vicious set
of gnarling teeth closed in on her, and she felt the ground shake with laughter as the inky
spectators feasted on her fear. The malicious silhouette smirked and reached out with scaly limps
to wrap its deathly cold grip around Ginny’s neck. She instantly felt herself paralyzed by fear,
drowning in despair and around her, she saw it—the murky green shadow that had haunted the
wizarding world for years. It was floating all around her, and suddenly the black eyes swirled into
shades of familiar silver/blue, entrancing Ginny in her horror.

She closed her eyes tight against his and turned away to see that the scaly fingers had turned
into a pale, fleshy hue. Disbelieving, Ginny slowly turned her gaze up to see Draco’s staring back
at her, silver eyes mimicking the ones that surrounded her.

“Come to save the day?” He leaned close to her ear, reveling in the shivers that riddled her
body.

Ginny felt tears spring to her eyes, knowing she’d heard this before, remembering the day, the
time, and the dream that had been no where near as real as this.

She wanted to say his name so badly, but she knew that that was impossible. This wasn’t Draco—it
couldn’t be. This was the Draco she’d been warned about, the one that could not love her, the one
that would die if he did.

Ginny cried out and struggled as Draco’s hands tightened about her neck.

*This can’t be real. This can’t be real.*

He chuckled bemusedly in her ear, and she felt her heart turn over in her chest.

“It’s too late, Ginevra.”

Ginny’s eyes snapped open. Her lungs were burning unbearably, but she willed her heart to keep
beating.

“N-no…I…Dra—“

“There is no Draco, Ginny. He’s only a Malfoy. Always a Malfoy.”

Tears spilled from Ginny’s eyes, as his cold lips brushed against her ear once more.

“Never your Draco, again.”

“NO!!”

But she was being swallowed by darkness again, unable to scream or call out for help that would
never come. The green skull closed in on her, and she began to fall through a black hole, reaching
out blindly for something to hold on to. In it’s mouth, the serpent she’d seen sneering at her from
the pale canvas of Pansy’s arm was charging straight for her, fangs glittering with thirst for
death, and all she could hear was Draco’s laughter in her head as she felt hard ground reaching
higher towards her to swallow her whole.

In that instant, the serpent disappeared, the cold vanished, and Draco was no where to be heard.
Ginny never hit the ground. She was impacted by such unbelievable warmth that she was sure she was
in heaven. Drenched in a feather-light blanket of security that felt more comforting than ten wands
in the palm of her hand, she stirred gently and sighed, murmuring thanks to whatever God had
contributed to the blissful peace that now enshrouded her and chased away the darkness.

She felt sunlight on her eyes and fell into a sitting position on the bed. She was still in the
infirmary. Arms were wrapped around her, and she heard someone’s voice whispering into her ear.
Frantically trying to run away from that voice, she slapped away their arms and cried out, fighting
to free herself.

“No! Get off! Let me GO!”

“Ginny! Ginny, calm down! It’s me—It’s Draco!”

Ginny continued to beat away his arms. She wasn’t sure if she was hallucinating or not, but the
need to get way to was too great. Draco grabbed her shoulders roughly and shook her to try to snap
her out of it.

“Ginny! Look at me! Look—“

“No! Leave me alone! Go away! I-I can’t…I can’t…” She dissolved into sobs in his arms, her
energy well spent and her body unwilling to fight any longer.

“Calm down, Gin…It’s alright.” Draco stared at the top her head curiously. He’d never actually
comforted someone before, but in the current situation, he felt as if *he* was the only way to
calm her down, to bring her back from whatever place she’d been trapped in.

“Dr-Draco…?” Ginny whimpered and wished she could have crawled deep inside herself to get away
from the possibility that it wasn’t him, that she would look up and see those hollow silver eyes or
a vicious serpent ready to lunge.

“It’s me, Gin. I’m here…stop crying. It was only a hallucination.”

“But it was so real…it was so real…I could feel them…” Ginny rocked back and forth in his
arms.

“Sssh…They weren’t real, Ginny, whatever they were. I promise.”

*It was only a dream…a hallucination…*She repeated the words in her mind, unknowingly
synchronizing them with the steady strokes of Draco’s hand on her back*.*

She sniffed softly, nestling her head deeper into the warmth of Draco’s chest, urging the tears
of frustration to stop pouring, but they relented. Draco continued to murmur into her hair
awkwardly, wondering what he could possibly say to undo what she’d seen. After a few minutes, he
asked her.

“Ginny…what did you see?” He tried to pull her away from him to face her, but she choked on a
sob and wrapped her arms tighter around his torso.

“No…I-I don’t want to talk about it right now…please.”

Sighing, he tried to fight the surge of annoyance that she was being so hushed about it, but he
let his heart tell him what to do to comfort her. Ginny shut tight her eyes against the memories of
the horrible shadows, the mark, the scorn of Draco’s face, his words, and longed to stay right
where she was forever.

“Don’t leave…” She whispered as the tears began to run dry.

Draco nodded, and he didn’t leave until he could hear her breaths even out with sleep and her
body stilled in his arms. He set her back in bed and made sure to cover her completely with the
blankets. She’d begun to shiver uncontrollably again, and he felt a slight panic at the fire he
felt beneath his hand as he brushed it against her forehead.

Leaning over to the bedside table, he picked up the glass vial he’d brought earlier and tipped
her head back so she could receive the rest of the liquid. After a minute or two he could visibly
see her body relax and the shivers dull into an occasional tremor.

There was no way he could have left her there alone. He almost hated Madame Pomfrey for leaving
her like she was by herself. So he settled onto the bed he’d been dosing in before he’d awakened to
her fighting off invisible hands at the foot of her bed. Ginny seemed to be sleeping peacefully
enough, for he’d given her a larger dose than last time to ensure it, and he fought sleep for an
hour before it finally overtook his body.

A few hours later, the sun began to peak over the sill of the window by Ginny’s bed, and she was
gently roused from sleep. She remembered everything about her hallucinations, but only a blur of
what happened after they’d ended. There had been warmth—intense warmth, and she felt as if someone
had been there with her, but she could not remember anything further than that for the life of
her.

Silently, she damned the pranksters who were to blame for her predicament. But even though she
knew she’d been hallucinating, she could not fathom how it had seemed so *real*.

Rolling on to her side with the intentions of conjuring herself a glass of water for her parched
throat, she nearly squealed in horror at the lump of black robes discarded on the bed opposite
hers.

“What in bloody—“ But she stopped then, noticing a pile of blonde hair one end of the mass of
black. She lifted a hand to cover her mouth and wondered what she was supposed to do. There was no
way she could face him now. It was just too soon.

Careful not to disturb him, Ginny leaned towards her bedside table to grab her wand. As she did,
she noticed an open vial resting beside it, empty and juxtaposed to a damp cloth she didn’t
remember being there before.

She lifted up the strange bottle, eyeing the remainder of clear blue liquid inside before
checking the label.

“La Sérénité Bleue—Rosette Malfoy…1709-1812.” Ginny’s eyebrows raised high on her head as she
read the centuries-old scrawled French.

“Blue serenity…” She whispered. Draco began to stir beside her and she quickly set the bottle
back. That definitely explained the heavenly warmth she’d felt that had saved her from the
nightmare.

*He came here last night to take care of me…* She felt a surge of something light and fuzzy
fill her chest at the thought of Draco sneaking into the infirmary just for her. It did explain the
nonexistent ache in her ribs and her ability to go ten seconds without shivering incessantly. She
eyed the silver trash bin haughtily.

“Won’t be needing you for a bit, will I?” Sighing drowsily, she drew her knees to her chest and
wrapped her arms around them.

Draco’s breaths were soft and even, and as she watched him sleep, she felt torn by so many
different emotions that she could barely sort them all out.

Between the horrible hallucinations brought on by fever and Pansy’s forewarnings, Ginny knew
that something had to be done.

*“…if you love him as much as I think you do, then you will make damn sure that he gets on
that train hating your bloody guts.”*

The thought nearly broke her heart. How could she make him hate her? He needed her now. But she
couldn’t let him die because of her, and she didn’t want him to know what she knew either. Maybe
she could convince him not to leave; he could stay at Hogwarts and tell Dumbledore everything. The
generous headmaster would keep Draco safe, she was sure of it.

A spark of hope ignited in her chest as she thought of the possibility of it, but then she was
hit by another revelation. How was she to know if Draco wanted the dark mark or not?

“Of course not…” She whispered to herself. He couldn’t *want* to be a death eater—it was
everything he hated his father for.

But hadn’t he ripped their relationship to shreds because of it? Maybe he was trying to protect
her. Could he have been planning on escaping before it was time for him to leave? There was
obviously a reason he hadn’t wanted her to know or be a part of it. But then why had he come back
to her?

“Oh, Gin, you’re going to drive yourself to Mungo’s if you keep on like this…” She shook her
head at herself and sighed dejectedly.

“What on earth am I going to do?” She stopped musing as Draco began to stir. Carefully, she laid
back down and turned in the opposite direction—she couldn’t face him now.

Bed springs squeaked as she listened to him rise and, from the sound of it, straighten out his
robes.

“Ginny?” He leaned over her and lightly prodded her with his hand. Ginny kept her eyes closed
and mumbled sleepily.

Draco sighed and brushed aside the auburn hair that was obscuring her face from his view. He
watched her carefully, noting the absence of her intense shivers from the night before and happy
that she was sleeping peacefully and not fitfully as she had been.

Ginny forced her eyes to shut out her tears as he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and left
her to sleep. When the door finally clicked shut, she felt the dam behind her eyes crumble to
ruins, giving way to painful sobs that rippled through her entire body.

She wouldn’t give up on him. She *couldn’t* give up on him. In her heart, Ginny felt as if
hope was out there somewhere, but she had only a month to figure it out. If this was what Draco
wanted, then he could have it, but that meant she would have to listen to Pansy—for his sake. She
would have to make Draco hate her at least until she could find another way, even if it killed her
inside.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The same morning, Hermione yawned as she walked drowsily towards the Great Hall for an early
breakfast. To her surprise, a dense group of people were already crowding the Gryffindor table that
was usually barren until noon on a Sunday.

Curious as to what the commotion was about, she nudged her way through with an authoritative
frown, jutting her chest out a bit so her prefect badge could be seen to any who wished to deny her
access to the middle of the clutter.

“What’s all this about?” She asked aloud and the group suddenly parted like the Red Sea. In the
middle, she was startled to see Harry, white-faced and gritting his teeth over a large piece of
paper.

“Harry? What’s wrong?” She glared at the crowd and they scurried out of her way as she took a
seat next to him.

When he met her eyes, she could practically read his fear through them. He silently shoved the
newspaper towards her, and she had only to read the first sentence below a picture of a man she
knew all too well before her skin went white, just like Harry had expected it to.

**BREAKING NEWS:**

*After nearly 6 months in Azkaban’s captivity,*

*Lucius Malfoy, allegedly one of the Dark*

*Lord’s most faithful followers, has escaped…*

---------------------------------------------------------------

**AN: Oh…I know I’m going to get some major hate mail about this chapter. :-/ I spoiled you all
with ch. 12 and look what I’ve done now. I’m an awful, horrible, DREADFUL writer. haha…just
kidding! You’re just going to have to trust when I say that everything in this crazy little
dysfunctional fic of mine happens for a reason. :)**

**I have also had an epiphany about the rest of this story. As much as I’d love love LOVE to
have new chapters out each week, it’s becoming more and more clear as I progress the amount of time
and thought that I need to devote to each detail of each chapter. This means a longer wait in
between. I’m really sorry, but I promise it will all be worth it in the end! I will try to keep it
only at 2-3 weeks. I’ll never leave you guys hanging for months!**

**That being said, thanks so much to the tremendous reviews for last chapter! (we’re past the
200 mark now!) I had a lot of new readers getting into it, and I felt really good about that. Drop
a review to let me know if you’re still out there! :-D**

***Special thanks to Diggingupophelia and Shelekene for being so wonderful to review each
chapter. I’m thrilled to have you guys reading my stuff!***

**Thanks for everything!**

**~Adrial~**



14. Fight or Flight
-------------------

**AN: Hi, guys! Long wait this time, huh? Talk about having absolutely NO free time to do
anything at ALL for myself lately! I’ve been burnt out lately what with the holidays and work and
school. Honestly, I never would have gotten this chapter out this soon if I hadn’t come down with a
nasty cold. It gave me a day off to chill out and just do what I love for a change. I really
appreciate the reviews from last chapter! You guys are so wonderful. And the recommendation to the
D/G fic thread was great, too. Thanks to Gypsybaby21 for that!**

**I can’t WAIT to hear from you all!**

**Ciao!**

**~Adrial**

**PS: One more chapter and it’s a wrap on this fic! *sniff*** **L**


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“To be or not to be a Weasley”

Chapter 14: Fight or Flight

By: Adrial


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*One more kiss could be the best thing
One more lie could be the worst
And all these thoughts are never resting
And you're not something I deserve*

*In my head there's only you now
This world falls on me
In this world, there's real and make believe
This seems real to me*

*You love me, but you don’t know who I am
I’m torn between this life I lead
and where I stand
You love me, but you don't know who I am
So let me go
Let me go*

*No matter how hard I try
I can’t escape these things inside
I know, I know
But when all the pieces fall apart
You will be the only one who knows…
*


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Whispers slid into even the tiniest corners of Hogwarts the following week, clinging to wispy
cobwebs that obscured the timeless gray stone walls, echoing off the tallest tower and somehow
finding their way into Ginny’s ears with every utterance. It was as if the entire castle was
pulsating with a jumble of emotions—fear, anxiety, confusion and, worst of all, judgment.

The news of Lucius’ escape coupled with a recent raid at a wizard convention in the Ministry of
Magic that claimed four lives and five missing wizards cast a dark shadow over Hogwarts; even the
teachers were more somber than usual, teaching classes while gazing every now and then at the
doorway as if always on edge, always waiting for something to strike, someone to scream, or a spell
to blaze through the eerie calm that skittered up and down their spines like mice.

One could practically draw a line down the middle of the hallways and find that one side never
mingled with the other. If your house was Slytherin, the left side was for you, and if in one of
the other three houses, you were either on the right side or scurrying away from the deathly smirks
of the Slytherin crew. Lucius’ escape had sealed the decision for nearly all—you were either for
the Dark side or not.

But in all the mess of things, one person seemed to ignore it all. He showed neither emotion nor
arrogance. His face was as stony as the gargoyles that gurgled from the tops of Hogwarts’ highest
towers. His eyes saw in only one direction—straight ahead—as if whatever or whoever might come up
from behind or beside him was of no concern to him. Draco Malfoy ceased to exist in the eyes of his
three rival houses. There was a blur of cloudy, gray eyes or platinum hair, but never anything more
to those who passed him. It was safe to say that students feared his secretive silence and blank
stares, but unwise to assume that he was not plagued by the news either. He was a man who finally
understood and was ready for what was to come. Draco was waiting.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ginny sighed wearily and made her way half-heartedly to the Great Hall. She’d considered skiving
off meals completely, but the promise of her brother’s nagging was more than she was willing to
endure. She rubbed the dull gray rings around her eyes that could only be seen if one took the time
to look at them pointedly and tried to make herself seem presentable. She hadn’t seen or heard from
Draco since the day he’d left her in the infirmary and the only indication she’d had of him even
being alive was the sweep of silence that rushed over the bustling hall ways as he passed by or the
screech of his eagle owl as it soared helplessly through the halls, having been rejected from
Draco’s world as well and too haughty to resign its glossy feathers to the owlery.

She swept open the doors, ready to face a few minutes of a (hopefully) silent breakfast and
having to endure Harry and Hermione as they passed meaningful glances that ranged from “I love the
way your glasses tilt when you smile” to “Do you think Ron saw when I gave you half my muffin
instead of him?.”

“Oy, Gin! Have you heard the news?!” Collin, who had been incapacitated for the past week after
suffering from a more threatening strain of the flu bug, staggered over to her as she made her way
to her seat; he was holding a large square of the Daily Prophet in one fist and a piece of toast in
the other. Puffing from his short run, he held it out eagerly for her. “*Lucius* *Malfoy*
has—“

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Escaped. Yes, Collin. I’ve heard.”

His bubble burst, Collin pointed at the newspaper again and exclaimed, “And look! A Ministry
raid! Guess how many have gone missing! Go on, Gin, guess!”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Five missing. Four dead. One very pissed of minister.”

“And guess what else!” Collin grinned, not willing to stop until he got her up to speed on
everything he’d missed. “Now that Lucius is out, word’s spread around the entire castle that
Draco’s going to be meeting up with him any—“

“I KNOW!!!” Ginny roared and grabbed the paper out of Collin’s hands, ignoring his look of shock
as she made a great show of ripping the paper to shreds right in front of his nose.

**“I bloody KNOW already, Collin! The whole damn SCHOOL knows! SO JUST *SHUT
UP!!!”*** Not one clink of silver could be heard over the sound of Ginny’s rapid
breaths. Her heart was banging wildly in her chest and she was sure the entire hall was looking at
her as if she’d just sprouted wings, but she didn’t care. Frustrated at her outburst, she flung
herself away from the piercing gazes and stomped out of the hall.

Collin remained as still as if he’d been petrified, completely wordless as the shredded image of
Lucius sliced the air around him, falling in fragments of white hair, pale skin, and menacing
silver eyes.

Ginny pummeled her way through the halls, battling against the oncoming traffic as if she were
crawling through a stampede of rampaging animals. The imaginary meridian between houses had
siphoned the majority of traffic against her, and she growled in annoyance, deciding that enough
was bloody enough. Blurs of black and emerald jostled past her as she rammed through the less
condensed Slytherin lane.

“Oy! Looks like an ickle little Gryffindor’s decided to cross over to the Dark side, after all.”
A deep baritone voice sniggered from behind her, and a calloused hand roughly tugged at her
robes.

“A little lost, are you, Weasley?” A fifth year girl with black eyes smirked and shoved her
bodily against the wall.

Ginny took a chance to glare back at her and spat, “I can find my way fine, thank you.” When she
turned back around, her breath suddenly caught in her throat. This had been a very, very bad
idea.

A sea of black and green robes surrounded her, snarling faces peering at her as if she were a
fawn who’d ignorantly stumbled upon a pack of wolves. Ginny mustered her resolve and continued to
barrel her way towards what she hoped to Merlin would be the exit. Hands pulled at her ginger hair
and cloak; a well-aimed elbow nearly sent her books flying. She grunted as large feet stomped on
her own, much smaller ones. Witches snickered in her ear, hissing threats through their teeth as
they passed. Wizards eyed her wide hazel eyes mockingly, growling as they reveled in the sparks of
panic that flickered in her pupils.

She suddenly could no longer see in front of her; everyone was much taller than she and she
clutched her hand over her wand intuitively.

“Ginny! What the bloody hell—“ Ron’s voice called from behind her, and she fought to turn back,
to find him, to find her place in the flow of traffic again.

“Get off her, you great ugly—IF YOU LAY ONE HAND ON MY SISTER AGAIN, I’LL CURSE YOU INTO THE
BLOODY GROUND!”

Ron began flinging aside Slytherins like they were feathers. Hermione’s voice could be heard
begging him to stop and see reason before barging his way through the crowd. Ginny came to a point
where she was drifting helplessly along in the sea of serpents, waiting to be swallowed completely
within them.

Somewhere along the line, two other Gryffindor wizards had decided that Ron could use some help.
However, their perception of help was to pound at the first sight of green robes they saw. The
domino effect was instantaneous. Students jumped on each other as legs and arms, kicking and
jabbing, collided through the hall. First years squealed and ran for the teachers as curses rang
through the air amidst the rat’s nest of bodies.

Ginny ducked someone’s first and struggled to find a way to get away. Fearful for her brother,
she tried desperately to find a mop of ginger in the commotion, but it was useless. Tears sprang to
her eyes in frustration at the absurdity of it all. She prayed for the teachers to come faster. Any
other time they were all on the tips of their toes to hand out detentions but the one time when the
extinction of the student population was at stake, they were too busy having tea and crumpets to
even bloody care.

Caught in the middle, Ginny gave up hope of ever getting out. She’d been kicked and punched
several times, and with the taste of blood on her tongue, she let her tears drop unchecked until a
strong arm wrapped itself around her waist, and she felt the ground leave from beneath her feet.
She was lifted easily through the mangle of arms and legs and carried towards a familiar corridor
where her savior finally stopped. It took a moment for her to even register that anything had
occurred. Silently, she led the way through the door of the gazing room.

Shaking violently behind the closed door, she leaned against whoever was behind her with their
arms wrapped securely around her and fought to regain her composure.

“Ron…he…he’s still back there.” She gasped and wrenched her body away from—

“Draco…” Ginny took two steps back from him, drawing her hand up to brush aside the last traces
of her tears.

Draco leaned against the wall of the gazing room, staring blankly at her, the cloud that had
fallen over his eyes leaving his thoughts completely ambiguous to her.

“What were you thinking?” He finally uttered, shaking his head at her; his emotionless voice was
foreign to her, as if she were speaking to a completely different person.

Frowning at the ground, Ginny shrugged. “I-I don’t know. I guess I felt like seeing what an
inter-house wrestling match would look like.”

“Yeah, well, perhaps you should think again before pulling a stunt like that.”

“Oh, like you even care!” Ginny cried suddenly. Draco’s eyes flashed, but he made no
comment.

“Go back to the hole you’ve dug yourself into Draco. It’s so much safer there, isn’t it? Where
you can run away from everything? That’s all you Slytherins ever do anyway—*run*.”

“And you would know, wouldn’t you? Where have *you* been? Hiding as well, have you? Scared
I might attack you like everyone else?” Draco spat and came within inches of her face.

“No, Draco! That’s not it. I—How could I have done anything else? The entire bloody school has
gone mad with this! My father’s work was attacked AGAIN last week! Four wizards *died*, Draco!
How do you think I feel now that—“ She paused, unable to meet his gaze.

Draco backed away slowly and finished for her.

“Now that my father has escaped.”

Ginny wrapped her arms around herself and shook the tears from her face. “I don’t know what to
do, Draco. Nothing makes sense anymore. It’s all just a big load of rubbish.”

Draco said nothing for a long while, then he pulled out his wand and opened his palm. With a few
complicated waves, a bandage and ointment appeared.

“Your lip—it’s bleeding.” He muttered and shoved the stuff into her hands.

Ginny accepted the proffered items and dabbed the cooling balm onto her lip, then placed the
bandage over the cut on her cheek.

A tense silence ensued before Ginny broke it suddenly.

“I…You knew that I wanted to be there for you, Draco. Didn’t you? I would have done anything,
but my bloody brother wouldn’t let me out of his sight, and you were never around…”

“Don’t kid yourself, Ginny. This—whatever we are exactly—never should have happened.
We’re…just…”

“Don’t say that!” Ginny interrupted him abruptly, startling them both. “Don’t you even bloody
*dare* trying to make yourself believe that we were just some silly mistake! *I’m* not
willing to believe that, Draco!” She stared at him fiercely, “And I don’t believe that you are
either.”

“Ginny—“

She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Don’t. Just don’t. You can tell me that we can’t be together because your father is going to
pop into the room in the next ten seconds and kill you if he sees us. You can tell me that you’re
moving to bloody Antarctica and you’ll never see me again. Hell, tell me whatever you bloody well
like, but don’t stand there and tell me, Draco, that ever since we’ve been together you haven’t
changed.” She finished, feeling her emotions welling deep within her and bubbling to the
surface.

Draco ran his hands through his flaxen hair. “I wish that I could tell you those things, Ginny,
but I can’t! The truth is—“

He stopped himself, and Ginny noticed the pallor of his skin sink in color.

“The truth…” He began forcefully, unable to meet her gaze.

Ginny approached him slowly and wrapped her hand around his forearm, the exact place she’d seen
the Dark Mark pulsing on Pansy’s arm.

“It’s alright, Draco. Just tell me, and we’ll get through it some how.” She looked at him until
he finally met her gaze and urged him on with her eyes.

Draco simply stared at her open eyes with an unreadable expression. Then he lifted his hands and
spread his fingers across her cheeks, feeling the slippery wetness of her tears and the contours of
her cheekbones. The glittering moonlight did her fiery ginger locks little justice, but her eyes
were blazing with emotion for him.

He tried to speak, but his voice cracked and he tore his eyes away with a cry of frustration.
Ginny cringed as he pounded the brick wall behind him with his fist and leaned his forehead against
it wearily.

“Draco…all you have to do is tell me. You can tell me anything…” Ginny placed her hand on his
back.

Breathing hard and ignoring the bruised bones in his right hand, Draco shook his head
slowly.

“You have to understand when I say that I can’t tell you, Ginny. I can’t. The danger that would
mean for your life is more than I am willing to risk.”

“Why should you be the only one risking something, Draco? Haven’t I risked things already? My
relationships with my friends and my brother?”

Draco remained silently as he weighed her words.

“I’d risk anything for you, Draco.”

He turned to face her again, and she was shocked to see the hurt in his eyes as he waged an
inner battle right before her.

“I can’t let you risk your life for me, Ginny. I’m not worth that.”

“Let *me* decide what my heart is worth, Draco, not you.”

Draco noted the determination in her eyes and felt his world slipping away faster than he could
grasp it, like trying to catch steam with his bare fingers.

“I have to go away for a long time, Ginny. My…my mother—she needs me now.” His tone was that of
a parent who was dying of some ailment and tried to explain to his child what death meant.

Ginny hugged herself and bit back the lurch of fear that rose in her stomach. She knew why he
was doing this. It was the reason she’d been avoiding him for the past week, the reason why she’d
been unable to sleep ever since she’d been deemed well enough to leave the infirmary.

“This isn’t fair…”

“If you haven’t noticed, Ginny, we’re in a war now. Nothing is fair anymore—not that it ever
really was.”

“But…What about you?”

“My father is coming back, Ginny, whether or not my mum and I like it. And I…I am his son.”

“But you’re not like him!” Ginny felt a desperate ache in her chest all of the sudden. Maybe she
could convince him to run away until his father was captured. She couldn’t believe in her heart
that he really wanted to join the ranks with him. To hell with Pansy’s warning. This was Draco’s
*life* on the line.

“I *am* him, Ginny!” Draco cried. “I *have* to be.”

“No, you don’t! You can run away! Dumbledore will help you! Please…don’t let your father dictate
your life.” Ginny pleaded with him, pulling his hands into her own.

“It’s no use! He is and always will be my father. I can’t turn my back on him.” His tone became
robotic, as if someone was pulling his strings to make him say that, and Ginny saw right
through.

“You’re just too scared to stand up to him! You’re too proud to realize that what he’s doing is
wrong!”

“You have no right—“

“I have every bloody right there ever was, Draco Malfoy. I know you,” She held his face in her
hands, “And when I look in your eyes, all I see is the person who I have grown to—“

“Stop it, damn it! You’re just fooling yourself! Give it up!” Draco yanked her hands away from
himself and stormed to the other side of the room.

“Oh, *I’m* the fool, am I? Who’s the coward hiding behind his Daddy’s cloaks all the time?
I believe that’s *your* role in the grand scheme of things, isn’t it?”

Draco’s hand paused on the doorknob. When he turned around and Ginny could barely recognize the
frozen gaze he laid on her, her lungs felt as if all the air had been punched out of them.

“I know my place, Ginny….” He turned back around and opened the door. After a moment he stopped
again without turning and said, “And I can assure you now. Your place is not with me.”

Ginny choked on a sob, “But—“

She was interrupted as the door slammed on her face, cracking every hope in her heart. The
thought that penetrated her was that might be the last time she’d ever see him again. The weight of
that possibility crushed her.

“But I love you…” She sobbed, falling broken against the door. “I love you, damn it! You stupid
bloody bastard! Why can’t you see?! *I LOVE YOU!”* She banged her fists against the door,
wishing that he could hear her pain. The weight of loneliness settled across her dusty heart and
nestled into the middle, cushioned by the dull throb of ache.

“Why…can’t that just be enough?”

Her sobs were absorbed into the sky above her as the moon reflected off of the shimmering trails
of tears that cascaded down her cheeks, leaving her question hanging in its beams. And Ginny knew
it then—it was over.


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*“Double, double, toil and trouble!*

*Hate to burst the Gryffie’s bubble!*

*Potter choked and they’re all sad,*

*but* *now they know he’s raving mad!*

*Raving mad! RAVING MAD!*

*WOTCHER—POTTER’S RAVING MAD!*

*Tee hee hee hee!!”*

Peeves howled with laughter as he dropped water balloons on the retreating Gryffindor team.
Susan Lipskel took a face full of a whipped cream-filled one and had to be held back by both
beaters to keep Peeves from facing a second death.

“Keep your fat mouth shut, Peeves or I’ll get Filch faster than you can say ‘six feet under.’”
Susan threatened through clenched teeth.

Harry placed a hand on her shoulder and shook his cream-covered head wearily.

“Don’t waste your time, Sue. Let’s just get back to the common room before he drops another
one.” His eyes were dull and tired, and he had the forlorn look of one whom either had just lost
his puppy or just seen one run over. His teammates, however, recognized the look of one who’d just
lost the first game of the year against Slytherin in one of the most humiliating episodes to
date.

“Right,” Susan answered. She waited for Harry to turn his back before blowing Peeves a raspberry
and smirking as he misjudged his aim and landed a chocolate-filled balloon on Madame Pomfrey’s
unsuspecting head. The language that ensued made even Ron blush as he shouldered his broom and
walked sullenly behind the rest of his team. He was sporting a twisted arm from the scuffle of the
previous day as were a few of his teammates. Part of their delegated punishments (apart from two
weeks of detention) was to go without the magic of healing until they’d “learned their
lessons.”

In the common room, the atmosphere was as depressing as the rolling black clouds that were
spinning lethargically around the grounds, waiting for the perfect moment to drown the rest of the
already rapidly sinking day.

“I’m heading up to bed. This arm’s smarting worse than ever after the match—Hey…d’you think
Pomfrey would crack and slip me a healing potion if I promised to find a way to banish Peeves from
the castle?” Ron quipped hopefully and was answered by a few half-hearted groans and a couple of
definitive “No’s.”

Harry slumped into a seat next to Hermione on the softest sofa by the fire, resting his
Firebolt, who even seemed to lose part of its luster in the aftermath of their loss together,
beside him. Hermione softly smiled at him and Harry conjured a lop-sided smile that could have been
mistaken for a grimace as she wrapped a hand around his own.

“Don’t worry. There’s always next term.” She reassured him with a squeeze of his palm. Harry
nodded vaguely and leaned back with a sigh.

The barbarity of the Slytherin team was taken up a notch that day. Draco hadn’t turned up, but
his replacement, Mark Cranker, was a sight worse than the usual ‘all talk and no wand’ Draco that
Gryffindor was used to. He gave Harry a run for his galleons, nearly causing him to collide into
his own team members at least twice. Crabbe and Goyle had taken up the role as beaters and pounded
away at every sign of scarlet-covered flesh they saw. The crowd grimaced every time a player zoomed
by and blood splattered into the air from one of their assortments of injuries.

McGonagall had wanted to call the match off the minute Cranker had walloped Harry with the
backside of his broom, but Madame Hooch had been too busy to even notice the foul play going on
elsewhere. She was penalizing Ron for tossing his shoe at the back of Crabbe’s head after the
latter had successfully managed to steal the other one.

Ginny had gotten a penalty not ten seconds afterward when she’d raced for Hooch and screamed at
her for a full minute for penalizing her brother before the whistle blew for the umpteenth time
that day.

The crowd moaned and Ginny cursed, but the match ensued. It took Cranker five minutes more to
steal the snitch right from under Harry’s nose as Crabbe and Goyle crossed their brooms right in
his path after they’d seen him begin to make a move for the glittering object.

The ground welcomed back its weary players and the Gryffindor stands made a bustling bee line
straight for them, knocking over Slytherins in their paths.

That night found the Gryffindor common room doused in a solemn silence, but the three occupants
hardly cared. Ginny absentmindedly stroked Crookshanks as he purred affectionately in her lap, and
Hermione tried to read to Harry about some ancient rune or another until his eyes finally drooped
closed and they called it a night.

Ginny watched as they went to the stairway, nearly out of sight, and Hermione wrapped her arms
around Harry’s waist, squeezing tightly. He ran his hand over her hair, dropping a kiss in its
place, and they said their goodnight’s. Ginny’s heart ached in her chest from the sight of them,
and she tore her eyes away, concentrating on the roaring fire in front of her.

Glittering silver fairies surrounded the enormous Christmas tree in the middle of the room, and
Ginny watched their silent dance until her eyes began to burn with tears she hadn’t noticed. With
the holidays drawing near, students were beginning to pack their things to go home. The train left
in seven days—December 20th.

Crookshanks nuzzled her chin and shook its fur as tear droplets began to splash against it. He
gave Ginny an appraising glance before hopping down and curling up in a drier spot next to the
fire.

“Sorry, Crookshanks…” Ginny said brokenly. “I’m just being silly, now, aren’t I? Blubbering away
like I’ve got nothing more to do with myself.” She sniffled and stood up.

In two weeks she hadn’t seen or heard anything from Draco. Not that she’d expected to, but even
a glimpse of him scowling at her would have been enough. Her classes seemed to drone on as the
anxiousness of everyone to get out of the tense castle halls nearly suffocated her. Her mum and dad
had begged them to stay in the castle with Dumbledore to look after them, but she had failed to
tell her once she had agreed that Dumbledore hadn’t been at meals in weeks and only Hermione ever
mentioned seeing him in passing.

Ginny shook those thoughts away and rummaged through her book bag for something to cure her
insomnia. A book tumbled out with a few of her quills, and when she stooped to pick them up, a
shiny, silver package caught her eye.

She picked it up gingerly and felt the glossy wrapping that she had worked so carefully to fold
just right. Hidden beneath it was Draco’s Christmas gift. She’d picked it up in Hogsmeade weeks
before.

Ginny gripped it in her palm, feeling the hard corners dig into her skin, and bit back her
tears. In a few seconds, she had the smooth, amber-wood box nestled into her palm, and she gently
opened the lid.

A shimmering silver pocket watch stared back at her, nestled deeply within a velvet cushion.
She’d used every last galleon and knut of her savings to buy it (with an awful lot of bargaining on
her part with the stingy saleswitch).

She turned it over and fingered the inscription she’d picked out with every drop of love she had
for him. French was her language of choice upon remembering the label on the medicine he’d given
her so many nights ago in the infirmary. The firelight made the words difficult to decipher, but
she knew them by heart anyway.

*Dans votre coeur, couche la vérité de mon amour pour vous.**

“Ginny?”

Ginny’s head snapped up and she shoved the watch and box back into her bag, trying to make it
look as if she were packing up for the night.

Ron made his way towards her quietly, offering a lopsided smile as he took up the seat next to
hers. Ginny smiled back softly.

For a long while they both simply stared into the fire together, finding comfort in each other’s
presence. Ginny leaned her head on her big brother’s shoulder, and he shifted awkwardly beneath
her, eyeing the top of her gilded hair just like the first time he’d ever held his new baby sister
in his arms, nearly 16 years before.

“Ginny…” Ron whispered, wondering if she’d fallen asleep. When she stirred and mumbled, he
smiled and shrugged slightly.

“Never mind…go to sleep.”

She curled against him and sighed. “I’m sorry about the match, Ron.”

“Oh…yeah…well, there’ll be other matches.” He tried to seem earnest, but Ginny heard the
disappointment in his tone.

“How’s your arm?”

Ron eyed his throbbing limb reproachfully and grimaced as he remembered what it would feel like
when he tried to move it again.

“Quite well, actually. I’m nearly regaining the feeling in my fingers again.”

Ginny laughed softly and moved for her wand on the table in front of them. Ron quirked his
eyebrow at her as she tapped his shoulder softly, muttering a spell he’d never heard before under
her lips.

Instantly, the pain in his arm dulled to a random throb, and he grinned at her, rumpling the
hair on her head.

“Not too bad, little sis. Did Hermione teach you that one?”

Nodding, Ginny put her wand back in her bag. “She never showed you before?”

Ron tensed, and Ginny bit her lip. Perhaps now would not have been the best time to start
questioning him about Hermione.

“I...eh…well, she hasn’t been really speaking to me lately, actually.”

Ginny scoffed. “Oh, really? And you’ve welcomed her with open arms every time you’ve seen
her?”

Ron puffed out his chest defensively, but after a moment, he slowly deflated. His lips drooped
into the perfect Ron Scowl, and Ginny shook her head.

“You’ve got to accept them some day, Ron. They’re your friends. They need you.”

“But what about—“

“You?” Ginny quipped. Sighing, she folded her hands in her lap. “Ron, tell me honestly right
now. Do you *truly* love Hermione?”

“Who said anything about l-love?” Ron’s ears went pink as he shifted away from her and turned in
the opposite direction.

Laughing, Ginny shook her head. “Alright, I’ll take that as a no. Well, then, if you don’t
*love* Hermione, then why are you acting like such a wanker about her and Harry being
together?”

“I’m not a wan—“
“The point, Ronald, please.”

Ron huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Alright. I don’t l-love Hermione. But that
doesn’t mean that I didn’t care about her.”

Ginny nodded.

“But now she’s got Harry, and I guess the first instinct I had was to be upset because Harry had
won over the one thing that he and I had in common. She was *our* best friend, and now she’s
*his* girl friend.”

Ginny stared at him blankly. “Are you saying that you’re ruining the best relationship you’ll
ever have with two wonderful people because you’re worried about one of them liking you less over
the other?”

Ron furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of what she’d just said. When it seemed to click in
his mind, he grinned and nodded.

“Yeah, right. That’s it.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at his head.

“Hey! What was that for?” Ron scowled deeply at her and patted the hair on his head back
down.

“For being an insufferable prat.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not too bright either.” He tossed the pillow between his hands
absentmindedly.

Ginny stopped smiling. “What do you mean?”

Ron shrugged, “I”ve heard Hermione and Harry talking about this bloke you’re interested in
lately. Mind you, I don’t know who he is or else I would have already hexed him to a pulp,” He
glared at her warningly, “But from what I’ve heard, you like him, he likes you, but the both of you
seem to be too caught up in your own little problems to make something of it.”

Ginny’s heart had screeched to a halt for a split second. *Alright, Ginny.* *Stay calm.
He doesn’t know it’s Draco, so we don’t have to tell him, right? Right. I’ll just play along for a
while.*

“U-um…but…what if our being together means one of us is in danger—“

“Danger?! Ginny, if this wanker’s been threatening you, you had better tell me before I find
Hermione and force her to spill—“

“Ron!” Ginny grabbed his arm to keep him from following through on his threat, “Stop! I meant…I
meant…danger of…failing our classes.”

Breathing hard, Ron looked at her to determine whether or not she was lying. Ginny nodded,
encouraging him to take the bait. When his shoulders relaxed and he sat back down, she sighed.

“Forget I said anything, really. It’s just a silly crush, anyway.” She turned away from him,
feeling her depression sinking into her chest again.

“Ginny…” Ron placed a warm hand on her shoulder. When she turned back to him, he saw moisture
building up in her eyes and he knew it wasn’t just some crush. “Listen to me, alright?”

Ginny nodded softly.

“Look…whoever this bloke is,” He gritted his teeth to keep from snarling at the thought of some
smarmy git looking at his sister like he looked at other girls, “I just hope that you don’t make
the same mistake I did.”

Ginny stared at him curiously, “What do you mean? I thought you didn’t love Hermione.”

Ron rubbed his hands over his eyes and sighed loudly, “But who knows? Maybe we could have fallen
in…well, started to *like* each other…in that way…like…boyfriends and girlfriends do—I
guess—eventually?” He furrowed his brows, and Ginny giggled. Frustrated at his male incapacity to
explain his feelings, Ron blurted the rest out.

“Oh, bloody hell. Look, I know that I had feelings for her…but, the point is that I never acted
on them. I let her get away…” He trailed off, staring uncomfortably at his hands.

“But she’s still here, Ron. She may be with Harry, but she’s always going to be your best
friend. Isn’t that better than nothing?” Ginny covered his hands in her own.

“Yeah…maybe you’re right.” He shook his head and stood gingerly so as not to irritate his
arm.

“But remember what I said. You’ll never know what could have been, unless you forget about all
that wonky girl stuff and make your move.” Smiling softly, he gave her a pat on the head and yawned
before walking off sleepily.

“’Night, Gin.”

Ginny took a moment before mumbling a quick “G’night” underneath her breath.

The only sound left was the ticking of Draco’s pocket watch inside of her bag as Ron’s footsteps
droned off. She leant over and retrieved it, watching the firelight flicker and dance across its
surface.

“Dans votre coeur…” She read softly, weighing the watch in the palm of her hand, “…mon
amour…”

The watch ticked on, letting the seconds loose from its grasp and thrusting them into infinity.
Ginny bit her lip, feeling her resolve crumbling before she decided that there was only one thing
she could do. For once in his life, her brother could have possibly been *right*.

*Merlin, help me…*

Crookshanks meowed questioningly as Ginny stuffed her things back into her bag and shoved them
into a corner. Ignoring the sleepy murmurings of the fat lady, Ginny pushed her way through the
portrait hole and sprinted rapidly through the halls with the light of her wand guiding her.

Corridors flew past her as she raced up and down stairs. Torches were golden blurs in her
peripheral vision as she wound her way through the castle, praying that she hadn’t forgotten where
the Slytherin common room was.

The drop in temperature plummeted as she descended deeper into the castle. The dungeons were
only a few steps away. As her shadow spilled out over the last stair case, she felt her heart beat
so fast that it was humming in her chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Startled, Ginny let her wand clatter to the ground. It landed in front of two, very polished
mary-janes. Breathing hard, Ginny knelt to pick it up, but another hand beat her to it.

She knew it was Pansy before the light of her wand illuminated her sunken eyes and sallow
cheeks.

“I-I…” Ginny stumbled, trying to think of a good enough excuse. Pansy shook her head.

“After everything I told you, you just couldn’t keep away, could you, Weasley?”

Ginny glared at her fiercely, “My actions are of no concern to you, Parkinson. I came here to
see Draco.”

The way in which Pansy’s lips curved maliciously into a sneer caused Ginny’s morale to drop an
inch or two. She chuckled bemusedly, toying with Ginny’s wand in her ghost-like hands.

“Oh, you did, did you?”

Ginny swallowed deeply and nodded.

Sighing dramatically, Pansy leaned against the wall and cast the light of her wand on the old
grandfather clock that was in the corner of the hall, chiming resonantly.

“Well…I really do hate to break it to you, sweet little hero, but you’ve just missed him.”

“What do you mean?” Her voice deepened as her temper flared at Pansy and the precious time she
was causing her to waste.

Pansy ignored her tone and smirked as if enjoying herself immensely.

“I mean that Draco is *gone*.”

Shaking her head, Ginny gripped the watch in her palm tightly, not caring whether or not she
cracked it, as the ground beneath her feet felt as if it were caving in.

“But I thought…what happened to the twentieth?”

Pansy scowled at her. “Daddy Malfoy fetched his protégé a bit earlier than schedule. Draco’s
train leaves in, oh, let’s see….” She glanced at the clock and snickered.

“Fifteen minutes.”

Ginny’s mouth dropped, and Pansy smirked, watching the color leave the younger girl’s face in
rivulets. Finally, she tossed Ginny’s wand back at her and hissed one final time before sauntering
back through the portrait hole.

“Have a happy Christmas, Weasley.”

The portrait slammed shut behind her, leaving Ginny alone in the hallway, shivering
uncontrollably. The drone of the clock pounded in her eardrums as she fought to form a rational
thought whilst her surroundings felt as if they were caving in on her. A leak in the wall splashed
nearby, echoing as a frigid current of air nearly took her breath away, successfully shaking her
from her stupor. With a gasp of urgency, she stuffed her wand back into her robes.

Then, with only the pounding of her heart to guide her, Ginny ran.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Translation: *“In your heart, lies the truth of my love for you.”*



15. Paths Chosen
----------------

**To be or not to be a Weasley**

**By: Adrial**

**Chapter 15: Paths Chosen**

**AN: Alright, guys! Here it is! I’m sitting here at 1:30 in the AM having just completed my
little pride and joy! And I say “complete” very loosely, mind you. ;-) I am going to take a break
for a bit and get some college stuff in order (I’ve gotten into my first 2 choices already!) but I
plan on definitely doing a sequel as my next fic. I just have SO much more left to write!**
**J** **I absolutely want to thank EVERYONE for your support and reviews. I honestly don’t
think there’s anything better than writing something that people actually like, and I’ll keep
writing as long as you guys keep enjoying it!**

**So, without further ado, here’s the last *real* chapter of *To* *be or not to be a
Weasley*. There should be an epilogue posted shortly, so look out for that. But as far as the
story in general, this is it! Thanks again, and I hope you all had/have a very happy Christmas,
Kwanza, Chanukah and New Year!!**

**~Adrial~**

**PS: The song from the last chapter was “Let me go” By: Three Doors Down.**

**PSS: Thanks to last chapter’s reviewers: Potatomaker * Keeley * Rockon2680 * Iamsamhope *
Toes of the Tickled Kind * Deth’s Flaming Arrow * CS June * tuzdavampslayer * Nickel * Hoppers
Terrasina Dragonwagon * GoldenFawkes * IndiaInk ***

**And for all of those who reviewed from past chapters, thanks so much! I really appreciate
every last one of them!**

*--------------------------------------------------------------------------*

*I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know were it goes
But it’s home and I walk alone

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard. of broken dreams
Were the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk alone

My shadows the only one that walks beside me
My shallow hearts the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
Till then I'll walk alone*

*I'm walking down the line
That divides me somewhere in my mind
On the border line of the edge
And were I walk alone*

*My shadows the only one that walks beside me
My shallow hearts the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
Till then I'll walk alone*

*“Boulevard of Broken Dreams” By: Green Day*

*--------------------------------------------------------------------------*

Moonlight spilled over Harry Potter’s dormitory, illuminating four sleeping faces with its light
and casting an eerie glow upon the scar that zigzagged across Harry’s face. Ron mumbled
incoherently in his corner of the room, tossing and turning as if trying to outrun his slumber, and
Harry sighed in frustration.

“Shut up, Ron! I can’t bloody sleep with you going on like that!” He hoarsely whispered. Ron’s
reply was to roll over and give an earth-shattering snore.

Harry had had about enough at that point and reached behind his head for the hardest pillow he
could find. Armed with said pillow, he raised his arms above his head and aimed straight for the
lump across the room that was Ron.

Right as he was about to release his ammunition, the door to his dorm burst open and a small
figure appeared, stumbling blindly towards his bed.

“Who’s there?” Harry dropped the pillow and reached instinctively for his wand.

*“Lumos!”*

“Harry! Put that bloody light out! D’you want to wake the whole damn tower?” Ginny huffed and
snatched his wand from his grip.

*“Nox.”*

Light extinguished, she handed it back to him and crawled onto his bed. Harry merely wiped his
sleep-deprived eyes and made room.

“What are you doing here, Gin? Are you alright?” He could make out her wide eyes and pale skin
in front of him and noticed her deep, labored breaths that made him wonder if she’d been chased all
the way up there.

Ginny shook her head, trying to catch her breath. “No time for talk, Harry. I need your
invisibility cloak—now.”

“But, Gin—“

Ginny got to her knees and placed her hands on either of his shoulders, staring him dead in the
eye with a look that reminded him curiously of Mrs. Weasley.

0 “Harry, I don’t have time. I need to borrow your cloak, *please*.” She forced her
desperation into her eyes for him to see.

Sighing, he furrowed his brow and stood. Then, kneeling at his trunk, he flipped the lid open
and retrieved the slippery silk fabric that was his father’s invisibility cloak.

Ginny held out her hands eagerly, practically feeling the gasps of time as it slipped helplessly
through the air around her.

“Gin…whatever you do with this, it was my fa—“

“Harry, I understand. You can trust me—I won’t lose your father’s cloak.” Ginny’s expression
softened, and she rested a palm on his shoulder.

Harry sighed and shook his head, hoping to Merlin that he wouldn’t regret this in the morning.
He carefully drew the cloak around Ginny’s shoulders, watching all but her head disappear.

“Just promise me you’ll fill me in at breakfast tomorrow, alright?” He said as she flew for the
door.

Pausing, Ginny gave him a slight smile and nodded.

“It’s a deal, Potter.”

“Are you sure you know your way, Gin?“

Ginny laughed shortly, “You forget, Harry. I’m a Weasley. Just because Fred and George didn’t
tell Ron all their secrets, doesn’t mean I was in the dark as well.”

She grinned and headed for the door before pausing and adding with a wink, “Plus, I was the only
one small enough to fit through the witch’s hump on the first go. Either that, or they wanted
someone to test it out to make sure there wasn’t a pit of live snakes at the bottom.”

Harry chuckled and waved her off. “Just be careful, Gin.”

“Thanks, Harry, I will.” She waved briefly, forgetting that her arms were invisible and Harry
couldn’t see her gesture, and then covered her head with the rest of the cloak, feeling slightly
odd within the watery curtain.

Harry watched as the door opened and closed, and sound of soft footsteps disappeared.

Ron chose that moment to tumble over the edge of his bed. A sleepy groan followed.

Harry shook his head and crawled back under his covers. “G’night, Ron. Watch out for the—“

“OW!”

Smiling, he closed his eyes. “—desk.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

“1, 2, 3…oh! Watch it, Gin…” Ginny mumbled beneath her breath and sighed as she hopped over the
third trick stair of the evening. Not wanting to draw attention, she had waived her use of
wand-light and resorted to stumbling blindly all the way to the witch’s hump.

The rustle of her own footsteps was the only sound other than her quick breaths as she rounded
the very last corner. The witch’s hump was within meters of her, and she felt her pulse quicken.
She’d already wasted so much time; how long did she have until she was too late? Had it been five
minutes or twenty? What would she do if all that greeted her once she arrived at the station was a
thick current of black smoke where a train had once been?

“Who’s there?”

Ginny’s feet stepped over each other as she clumsily screeched to a halt. The voice, echoing
from somewhere in the direction she’d just come from, was accompanied by the sound of dragging
footsteps, and when Ginny prayed that it was anyone other than *him*, a gentle “meow” sounded
from right behind her.

*Oh, bloody sodding HELL…* The chance of being caught only inflamed Ginny’s drive to get to
Draco faster. There was just too much at stake to have a scraggly, old man ruin everything for
her.

Thinking quickly, she grasped her wand and turned around quietly. Mrs. Norris’ giant, yellow
eyes glared at her from only inches away, and she held her breath.

“What’ve you got there, Mrs. Norris? Naughty little student thinking he can go on a little
midnight stroll, eh?” Filch was dragging closer, and Ginny stopped breathing. Then, with a silent
grunt, she flung her wand out of her hand and waited.

*Clang.*

*Meow!* Mrs. Norris took off, swishing her regal tale in the air as she scurried towards
the noise. Ginny sighed gratefully, and at that moment Filch rounded the corner, torchlight in
hand. He sniffed the air for a moment and grinned sickeningly. He was so close that Ginny could
smell the cheap liquor that stained his breath and the mildewy stench he perpetually carried around
with him.

“Oy, Mrs. Norris…seems we’ve got ourselves a midnight snack!” He sneered gleefully, exposing all
of his ten, rotted yellow teeth, and began to stumble in the direction of Mrs. Norris’ fitful
meow’s.

Ginny wasted no time. She forgot about her wand and sprinted to the end of the corridor. She was
inside the witch’s hump within seconds, and removed the cloak as she sprinted as fast as her legs
would allow towards the end of the dank tunnel.

*Please be there…please be there…* She chanted, envisioning Draco in a hooded black cape
with his father’s hand resting like a shackle on the back of his neck, squeezing just enough to let
Draco know that his life belonged to him no longer.

“Ack!” She squealed as a shadowed hole caught her foot, and she tumbled toward the ground. Her
ribs were screaming from lack of oxygen, but she ignored the pain in both them and her ankle and
picked up her pace once again.

Eternity had never felt more tangible to Ginny as she raced against it, every muscle in her body
screaming against her efforts. She never remembered closing her eyes, but when she opened them
again, she was staring at the end of the tunnel, and up above her was the staircase leading to
Honeydukes’ cellar.

She grabbed onto the shaky rails and shoved aside the cement plate that divided her from the
cellar. For a fleeting moment, she thought of what a sight she would make, staggering onto the
platform with limp, sweaty hair and smelling like she’d just done doubles at quidditch practice in
the blistering summer sun.

*Oh, sod it. If he wants to complain about a little sweat then I’m going to sock him in his
bollocks and leave him squealing for Daddy and all the other Death Eaters to see.*

She had just wrapped her hand around the door knob, when that exact thought froze her movements.
What if Lucius was *there?* She hadn’t exactly banked on the fact that Draco would be
accompanied onto the train. It made sense that he was taking the train rather than another, more
“Death Eater-like” mode of transportation like Apparition or clouds of smoke; this way seemed much
more innocent (she scoffed at the irony). To anyone who cared, Draco was simply taking his vacation
early to care for his mother and lounge about his lavish mansion like the pampered prince he
was.

Ginny shook her head. It was now or never. She just wished she hadn’t sacrificed her wand back
in the castle. She was completely vulnerable, save for the protection of the invisibility cloak.
But the thought of coming face to face with Bellatrix LeStrange or any other of the vile DE’s she’d
been acquainted with the previous spring made her stomach swirl with anxiety.

*Get it together, Gin. You’re a Gryffindor for a reason.*

Courageous Gryffindor or not, she nearly leapt out of her skin when the thunderous roar of a
train’s horn exploded around her. She urgently threw the cloak around her and stepped through the
door, finding the road to be completely deserted. The station was at the edge of Hogsmeade, and she
gritted her teeth, making a run for it.

Honeydukes became a speck in the distance as the train station’s entrance drew nearer. Ginny
felt a wash of relief to see the train still parked at the platform and no one in sight—except for
one.

“Draco!” She cried, flinging herself onto the platform. Her ankle protested louder than ever,
but the pain became a dull haze in the back of her mind as the lone figure standing on the side of
the platform turned around abruptly.

Draco stared at the empty darkness around him. He was going bloody insane, he figured. But why
had her voice sounded so real?

The lurch of his heart as he had thought for a millisecond that Ginny was going come racing
towards him made him scowl with disgust. There was no more Ginny. She was dead to him…she
*had* to be dead to him.

Sighing, he turned back around, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His father’s last letter
was strictly worded. He was to wait until exactly 12:30 to board the train. There would be a
portkey waiting for him inside that would take him to his final destination at 12:45. His wrist
watch read 12:29.

*Here we are.* He said to himself, and just as the minute hand on his watch clicked once
more, the engine roared, drowning out the desperate cries of Ginny as she scrambled towards
him.

Ginny furrowed her brow as she watched Draco completely ignore her call. For a moment, she
stopped running. The invisibility cloak swayed in the wind around her, and she nearly slapped
herself when she realized that she hadn’t taken it off yet.

She tore it from her shoulders and balled it up in her arms as she began to run again. Draco was
eyeing his watch and suddenly, the train’s compartment door flew open. He straightened his
shoulders and prepared to step onto the threshold.

Ginny’s breath caught in her throat, and he was gone. For a split second, the world stopped, and
in the next moment it churned back to life. She clumsily draped the cloak back around herself and
sprinted towards the compartment.

*Merlin…Mum…anyone who bloody gives a damn, just* be *with me, please.* Ginny silently
prayed as she forced her breaths to stay lodged in her throat and quietly eased through the door as
it slid close over the darkness within.

The scent of burning torches wafted through her nose, reminding her bleakly of the secure castle
she’d left behind. Stuffing those thoughts away, Ginny turned quietly in each direction, finally
opting on the left corridor where the sound of retreating footsteps and a door sliding closed could
be heard.

Ginny began to ease her way past the many compartments. This wasn’t the Hogwarts Express, that
was for sure. The burning torches vibrated a cold shade of blue, so icy that Ginny was sure they
couldn’t be called fire at all. Her breaths became cloudy white from the sight of them. To either
side of her, the compartments were at least twice the size of the ones she’d been used to for the
past 5 years, and the deep, onyx colored furniture that adorned each wall complimented the purple
fires that licked at the frigid air from behind cold, black cages that encased their hearths.

Ginny clutched the cloak tighter around her body and sucked in her breath again as she reached
the middle of the increasingly long corridor. She took a moment to gaze down the corridor once
again, and realized that it never really seemed to end. The blue torches glowed for miles, it
seemed, and she wasn’t sure if she was at the middle of anywhere, but someone was moving in the
compartment directly beside her. She just hoped it was Draco.

“Bloody elves…haven’t got a drop of common sense in them. You’d think they could—“

Draco’s eyes snapped up from where he was scrutinizing the lavishly decorated table that rested
in the middle of the largest compartment on the train. It was made of a thick, dark wood that
seemed to be bleeding with the color of fresh cherries. It stood beneath baskets of fruits and
plates of meats, desserts and assorted goblets that bubbled with their contents. It nearly put the
Hogwarts’ elves to shame, however, the lack of warmth and smiling faces instantly registered in
Ginny’s mind as she gazed in awe at it all.

“Who’s there?” Draco repeated. Ginny had barely heard him utter it the first time. He walked
closer to the open door where she stood. Ginny smiled warmly to her self, gripping a fold of the
cloak in her fingers and parting it slowly.

“Dra—“

“Master Draco!”

Ginny gasped and ducked into the compartment, pressing her body into the corner. The booming
voice reminded her of the beating of wind against her eardrums while on broomstick, though the
sight of the gigantic man who appeared at the entrance of Draco’s private quarters was all but
welcoming to her. His boxy shoulders barely fit through the opening, and he towered a foot over
Draco, his black skin pulsing with a power that echoed in his cool, blue eyes. Ginny had never seen
a man so foreboding and aesthetically spectacular in all her life; he didn’t seem real to her. She
wasn’t sure whether to feel petrified by his presence or awed by it. Either way, she was sure she
didn’t want to be found out this early in her excursion.

Draco eyed the man with a bored gaze that Ginny knew well. It was when he was scared stiff but
tried to seem hard as talons.

“What is it, Eleston? Come to bid me farewell?”

Ginny was sure that Draco must know this strange being (for she was certain he couldn’t possibly
be wizard or squib), and as the man he’d called ‘Eleston’ straightened his back and stepped into
the room carefully, looking at Draco as if torn between scolding or patting him on the head, Ginny
was also sure that he knew Draco.

“I’ve simply come to give you this.” He held in his enormous hand an eagle feathered quill. The
sharpened point flecked blue in the firelight, and Draco shifted uncomfortably before extending his
hand. A second before grasping it, however, he mumbled, “What…what time is it?”
Eleston sighed loudly, “Ten minutes, young master. You’re aware of what you should—“

“I think I can handle it from here, Eleston. Thank you.” Draco snatched the quill from Eleston’s
hand and turned around to sink into the luxurious leather armchair that sat the head of the
table.

Eleston nodded briefly, his icy blue eyes flashing as Draco picked up a goblet and downed its
contents.

“Very well, sir. I will leave you then. Your mother waits for me in London.”

“London?!” Draco slammed his glass down. “What the bloody fuck is my mother doing at *that*
hell hole?! She’s supposed to be on her way—“

“To the countryside estate? Yes, well, there has been a slight change of plans, Master Draco. “
Eleston shifted his hands so they were cupped behind his back, and his legs were perfectly
straight—the likes of soldier at ease.

“What change of plans?” Draco was seething; his words were forced through gritted teeth. Ginny
crammed herself deeper into the corner, intrigued and alarmed at the same time. She knew from
conversations with Draco that the mansion his family owned in London was the least inhabited of the
lot. It was dark, he’d said vaguely, *very* dark. She remembered him shudder as memories
rippled through his eyes and he told her that if ever Lucius decided to take up lodging there for
even the briefest periods of time, he would sit in his room and force himself to get used to the
idea that he may never see his father come back again.

Eleston shifted on his feet before speaking again in a less thunderous tone. “She has been
ordered there by your father. That is all I am allowed to say at the moment. And,” He paused to
gaze at his pocket watch, “I believe you now have five minutes, young Master. I shall make my
leave.”

Turning on his heel, he stepped through the door.

“Eleston—“

“Be careful, young Draco. Your mother needs your strength now more than ever.” With those final
words, his dark body slid into blackness and vanished. Draco was left with his mouth still open,
and he clutched the quill in his fist, nearly breaking it.

Ginny knew that now wasn’t he best of moments to alert him to her presence, but she had only
minutes to do so.

Swallowing, she let the cloak fall from her shoulders. Draco, still breathing ruggedly from a
mix of anger and anxiety, barely noticed the newly uncovered presence in his compartment. He stared
at the door Eleston had disappeared through, and did not blink until he felt a small hand resting
on his shoulder.

“Draco…”

Ginny watched as he tore his gaze away from the door and landed it on her. His eyes went wide,
and she bit her lip, wondering if he would be pleased or furious at her unscheduled arrival.

“Ginny! What the hell are you doing here?” His voice wasn’t as forceful as it could have been,
and he blamed the rush of relief that flooded through his body at the sight of her welcoming hazel
eyes and flushed cheeks for the lack thereof.

“Are you mad? Just what in—“

Ginny cut him off, throwing herself against his chest and latching onto his shoulders with every
ounce of strength within her body.

“Don’t do this, Draco. Please! I know! I know everything! It doesn’t have to be this way—you
don’t have to go!” Her scattered speech was a sight worse than she’d originally planned it would
be, and the tears that signaled a lump to rise in her throat had not been scheduled either, but it
was all she could do not to break down right there and then in front of him.

Draco was more shocked than anything, and he felt the quill slip from his fingers and clatter to
the ground. The small body in his arms was quaking with sobs, and he had no idea what to do. One of
his hands lifted as if on its own accord and began stroking the hair that cascaded down Ginny’s
back. The other of the pair reached up and pressed its thumb between his chest and her cheek,
gently nudging her face back so he could look into her eyes to make sure she was actually real.

Ginny did not protest as he wiped away the stray tears on her face; she was content to watch his
eyes jump and dance with emotions she was only beginning to understand herself.

“Ginny…I…what are you doing here? Do you have any idea what kind of danger you’re putting
yourself in right now?” He s

hook her forcefully enough to make her alert but not enough to harm her.

Ginny shrugged wearily. “I don’t care, Draco. Right now, *you* are all that matters to
me.”

He began to speak, but she quickly covered his mouth with her hands.
“Forget everything I ever said, Draco. Just forget it. The truth is—the truth is—“

“Ginny, don’t—“

“No, damnit! *You don’t!”* She cried. Draco looked taken aback by her outburst, but she
spoke too soon for him to retaliate.

“Just for one bloody second let me say what I have to say, alright? I—I—oh, bloody hell, Draco.
I love you!”

“No!” Draco roared at her, pushing her aside and snatching up the quill that had fallen to the
ground.

“No you, don’t, Ginny. You can’t. I…can’t.”

“Draco, I didn’t come here to argue my feelings for you with you. There’s time enough for that,
but now isn’t it. What I came here for was to give you another option, one other than taking that
portkey to the rest of your life—a life without anything worth living for, Draco.”

She fell to her knees in front of him, cruelly reminded of her twisted ankle at that moment.
Gritting her teeth, she shrugged away his hand as it fell on her shoulder.

“How long have you known, Ginny?”

Ginny sighed, “Pansy told me the day I took ill. I—I wanted to tell you so many times, but
everything happened so fast. And I, I forgive you for never telling me. I can understand that. But
what I don’t understand is why you’re willing to give up so easily.” She lifted her eyes to his and
moved slowly aside as he dropped to his knees beside her.

“I don’t have much time, Ginny—“

“Then why are you beating around the Goddamn bush, then?” She spat and tore the quill from his
grasp.

“Ginny!” He lunged for it, his heart lurching to his throat at the possibility of it carrying
her away to what would surely result in her death.

“If you’re going, Draco, then I’m going with you. If I have to get the Dark Mark m-myself, then
I’ll—I’ll do it.” Ginny hugged the quill to her chest and evaded his grasp.

“You’re mad, Ginny! This isn’t about you!”
“Oh, yes it is, Draco! You take this portkey and you’ll be taking away everything that I’ve got—my
heart, my soul…you are all those things to me, Draco. Why can’t you accept that?”

“Because I can’t, Ginny! Stop making this so bleeding difficult, will you? Just go back to the
castle and forget about me! I’m not—“

His watch began to beep suddenly. It was time. The portkey in Ginny’s grasp began to glow, and
he felt as if the world was churning in slow motion. The walls blurred as he reached out blindly as
snippets of his life flashed before him. His mother’s pain-filled eyes, his father’s imposing
glares, the rush of wind against his face while flying, and gilded ginger hair that framed a
smiling face and eyes that neither shined nor glittered, but vibrated with emotions he was a
stranger to.

Ginny felt her lungs close up. What was she doing? What if it took her away? Where would she end
up? What about Draco? She couldn’t leave Draco. Her friends, her family—Ron, Hermione, Harry, Mum,
Dad, the Burrow. She felt her stomach tug, and the images abruptly jolted together. Her feet were
leaving the ground, but then someone’s hand caught her own and dragged her towards the world that
was quickly slipping away from her.

Draco’s voice was calling her name, and she felt his body beneath her own. When she opened her
eyes hesitantly, her body was pressed firmly against his, over his heaving chest and wild, grey
eyes.

“Ginny—are you alright?” He lifted her face to his and rested his back against the leg of the
massive table.

Ginny’s body was shaking uncontrollably, and she wrapped her arms around his waist tightly,
fighting tears.

“Y-yes, I’m alright. Are you?”

Draco gave a hollow laugh. “Considering the fact that I’ll be facing a gamut of Death Eaters in
about five minutes who want to know why I missed my…erm…coronation, if you will, then, yes, I
suppose you could say that I’m just perfect.”

Ginny scrambled to her knees. “Oh, no! We’ve got to go—what if they come here?”

She tugged his arm, but he didn’t budge.

“Ginny—you’ve got to leave now. This isn’t a game any longer. I can talk my way out of this one,
but if they find you here…they *will* kill you.”

“What are you saying, Draco?” Ginny looked at him through disbelieving eyes.

“I’m saying *leave*, Ginny.”

“But…just come back to Hogwarts! Dumbledore will keep you safe!”

“And what then, Ginny?! What? Am I to just sit by and diddle my time away while my father finds
a way to me? And believe you me, he *will* find a way. What if he finds out about you? He’ll
have you killed, Gin! I couldn’t bare that. I refuse to live my life in fear of something that I
cannot escape.”

He stared at her for a long moment, gripping her hands tightly in his own, willing her to
understand. Ginny shook her head slowly and then shifted their interlocked fingers over her
heart.

“Not even for love, Draco?”

His mouth slowly closed as the intensity of her gaze nearly burned his very insides. How could
he trust in an emotion that he was only merely acquainted with? How was it that she could put every
ounce of faith she possessed into something so fleeting and downright agonizing at times to
bear?

“Draco…if the love that we have for each other is as strong as I believe it to be, then I know
in my heart that we can handle anything that comes our way—as long as we are *together* when
it does.”

She traced the outline of his face with her thumbs, watching him think through his eyes.

“And you’re willing to put that kind of belief in me, are you?” He finally asked, his voice
weighing on the air with its gravity.

Ginny smiled softly. “I already have, Draco. I’m here, aren’t I?”

He nodded silently, turning his eyes down. So many thoughts were charging through his mind. He
knew with every ounce of logic in him that he should be throwing her off the train and accepting
his fate next to his father, but in all his life, he’d never been given any other option before. It
was always his father’s will and no other. Did he have the capability to design his own future?

He lifted his gaze and trained it on Ginny’s shining eyes.

*Always there…* He thought. And then something inside of him gently clicked, releasing a
waterfall laced with the knowledge that any future without Ginny in it was no future for him at
all.

Ginny leaned forward and laid her lips on his in the softest of caresses, just enough to make
her presence seem real to Draco as his eyes fluttered shut, leaving him drowning in the strange and
terrifying emotions that now flowed through him.

“Ginny—“ He began before the air began to pulse around them. The temperature plummeted, and he
watched as Ginny’s breaths turned to puffs of white in front of him.

“They’re coming…” He uttered softly. Ginny’s heart leapt to her throat, and she instantly felt
around herself in search of the invisibility cloak. After a second that felt like an hour, she held
it up for Draco to cover their bodies with.

“Shall we make our leave then, Draco?” She winked playfully, her body obscured by the cloak.
Inside she was scared beyond imagining, but for Draco she had to be strong.

Clutching her hand, he nodded and rose to his feet, taking her with him. He had to hunch to be
able to hide his entire body beneath the cloak as well as hers, but they finally managed to make it
down the endless corridor. With each step they took, the air around them seemed to grow thick with
something dark and foreboding. Ginny remembered the sensation of having so much dark energy around
oneself before. However, this time, it was not in the form of a charming diary, but the silhouette
of six hooded figures that appeared at the entrance of the compartment they had previously
occupied.

Draco chanced a look behind them and then gave her a meaningful glare. Understanding, Ginny held
her breath and picked up her pace. The sound of hushed voices obscured by distance fell on their
ears but was nearly drowned out by the sound of the blood rushing through their ears.

The main entrance to the train was just within a meter or two, and Draco tugged her along to
match his giant strides. Ginny hastened to make sure the cloak was still secured around their
bodies. Once they reached the door, the sound of a furious cry emitted from ages behind them.

“Damn…I think it’s locked.” Draco cursed.

“What about your wand?” Ginny asked, praying he had it. Draco shook his head. “Snape’s still got
it. I was to receive a new one tonight. Shit….what about yours, Gin?”

“I had to use it to lure Filch off my trail at the castle. What are we going to do now?” Ginny
bit her lip and shuffled her feet.

Draco massaged his temples and sighed. “Let’s try the driver’s compartment. Hopefully Eleston’s
still there. He was a decoy—had to make Snape believe I was boarding a real train with an
instructor on board to whisk me away.”

Ginny nodded and jogged along beside him, trying to ease her anxiety until Draco turned around
once again. The Death Eaters would start searching in moments, and the front of the train was at
the end of another endless line of compartments as well. Draco wrapped his arms around Ginny’s
waist.

“I’m going to Apparate. Hang on, alright?”

Her face shoved against his chest, Ginny nodded and squinted her eyes. If Draco lost
concentration for even the slightest of moments, one of them could end up splinched.

It happened immediately. She opened her eyes, feeling hardwood floor beneath her feet rather
than the carpet of the corridor, and was thrilled to have all body parts securely in tact.

Draco noted her look of relief.

“Did you really think I would have gotten us splinched, Weasley?”

Ginny tried to straighten her face but failed miserably. “Forgive me if I question your
discipline in times of peril, *Malfoy*, but I’m only mortal, you know.”

Draco ignored her and moved the curtains aside that divided them from the driver’s seat. They
gave collective sighs of relief to see the giant sleeping form of Eleston, propped up against the
wall with one hand half-meaningfully clutched around one of the many levers that steered the
train.

“Time to wake up, Eleston. Ms. Weasley and I need to make a quick getaway.” Draco removed the
cloak and kicked the large black log that was Eleston’s leg, watching as he shook himself out of
his dazed slumber.

For a moment, Ginny was reminded of Hagrid as Eleston stumbled to his feet clumsily and cleared
his throat, salvaging what he had of his dignity.

“Ah ha…I’m always in the mood for an adventure, young Master Draco.” Rubbing his massive hands
together, he winked at Ginny and gestured towards the door.

“After you, milady.”

Ginny smiled softly as he held open the tiny door. She hopped onto the platform, followed
closely by Draco who immediately threw the cloak back over themselves.

Eleston smiled widely. “Off with you now. I trust Dumbledore will see that you two are safe once
you’ve made it to the castle.”

Draco nodded, and Ginny wondered if Eleston could see it. Something inside of her believed that
he could as he winked once more and squeezed his head back through the doorframe.

“Let me take care of the lurking gentlemen who are rampaging my train, alright? You two better
be off.”

“Thank you, Eleston.” Draco said before quickly turning and dragging Ginny along with him as he
ran towards the exit of the station. When they reached the street finally, Ginny collapsed into his
arms, biting back the pain that ripped through her leg.

“Oh…bloody, sodding *hell* that hurts…!” She cursed and bit her lip.

Draco knelt down with her, his eyes wide with worry. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Don’t worry about me. We don’t have time. I’ll be OK.” Ginny offered a pained smile and tried
to stand. She instantly crumbled into Draco’s arms, and he shifted to support her weight.

“OK, my arse. I’ll have to carry you then.” He made to lift her into his arms, and Ginny
refrained from protesting.

“H-Honeydukes, Draco. I know a shortcut.”

Draco nodded and shifted her weight more comfortably in his arms. He began to jog along the road
and Honeydukes was just in sight when the sound of raging voices erupted from around them. The wind
flirted with upending the cloak and blowing it off their bodies, but Ginny held the ends closed in
her fist while Draco struggled to support both their weights.

At the door of the store, he twisted the knob, taking one last glance behind him. The sight of
three hooded figures stilled his movements, and Ginny clamped her mouth shut.

The Death Eaters were walking straight towards them, their eyes trained to the footsteps that
zigzagged towards the very spot where they were standing.

“Oy! Who’s down there?” A wizard’s voice emitted from the apartments directly over Honeydukes,
and a female’s voice could be heard muttering *“Lumos!”*

Light poured onto the street, and the trio of cloaked figures fell into the shadows, accompanied
later by three *POP’s.*

Sighing, Draco wasted no time in turning the knob once more and entering the store. Racing
against the shuffle of footsteps that were winding down the stairs from the top floor, Draco
followed Ginny’s whispered directions and stepped down the short staircase and into the cellar.

He set her down at the cement floor piece and moved it aside. Ginny eased herself down first and
Draco hopped in afterward, handing the cloak to her as he pushed the cover back into its place.

For a moment, they listened to several urgent voices from above their heads going back and forth
with each other. Finally, the movement stopped, and all was silent again.

Ginny dropped to the ground, drawing her legs towards herself and allowing the fear to drain
itself from the tight knot in her chest.

Draco followed her, kneeling down beside her and smoothing the hair away from her face.

“It’s alright now, Gin…you’re safe.”

Ginny nodded softly, sniffling as his hand roamed across her slippery cheeks.

“*We’re* safe now…” She whispered, clutching his hand to her face. Draco mustered a smile,
willing himself to believe that for the moment, though he knew he wasn’t safe yet. Even Dumbledore
wouldn’t be able to shield him from his father’s wrath for long. Summer would come, and he
would—

He shook his head roughly, rubbing his eyes. Those thoughts were no good. He opened them slowly
and cradled Ginny’s face gently in his hands.

“You’re right, Ginny. We’re both safe now.”

Ginny placed her hands over his wrists and rubbed them softly, offering him an adoring
smile.

“Are you ready to go back then?”

At that Draco sighed. He shook his head and moved so that he was sitting beside her and wrapped
an arm around her waist, hugging her body tightly to his.

“No…I’d rather like to stay here for a while…if that’s alright with you, of course.” He turned
to her, and Ginny gave him a watery smile.

“Of course.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed softly. “Draco, I—I never really told you
before, and perhaps I should have, but I just wanted you to know it now—that I really do love
you.”

Draco’s chest clenched, and he was horrified to feel his eyes do something very mysterious,
stinging as if hit by a sobbing hex, though he knew that neither of them had a wand. He was
instantly grateful for the darkness. After a while of silence, he gathered his nerve and hugged her
closer to his chest.

“You know, Gin. You’ve been preaching this whole ‘love’ bit to me for months now, and I…I guess
I never really considered the possibility that any of it would make sense. But now I know that…that
if this—what I feel for you—is love, the kind of love that you talked about, then I…I must be
feeling something much more. And if that’s the case, then what do you call this? What’s the name
for what I feel when I think about you…here…with me?”

Through his short speech, Draco felt the blood slowly rise to his face, and had the cruel
suspicion that at any moment she was going to turn around and laugh in his face.

But what she did do was raise shining eyes to his and give him an angelic grin that made his
stomach turn rather oddly.

“That, Draco, is something no one can name. That’s why it’s so special—you can’t buy or sell it.
It just simply *hits* you one day when you least expect it, I guess.”

Draco nodded speculatively, “Hmm…a bit dodgy though, isn’t it? If we can’t see it or touch it,
then how is it *real?”*

Ginny laughed and pecked him on his cheek. “You’re quite brilliant tonight, aren’t you,
Draco?”

He scoffed. “What do you mean?”

Ginny burrowed her way deeper into his embrace and closed her eyes serenely.

“What you’ve just described, Draco…is magic.”

**------------------------------------THE END (kind
of!)-----------------------------------------------**

*Epilogue’s coming up!*



16. A Purely Magical Epilogue
-----------------------------

*To be or not to be a Weasley*

By: Adrial


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**EPILOGUE**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Can you believe it, Diary? I hardly remember a time before this when I’ve ever felt more at
ease and calm in my life. I feel unstoppable! Well…I’m quite sure that when I get my marks from
exams I won’t feel all that “unstoppable,” but at least *for now* I can finally breathe…And oh, it
feels fantastic! Oh…wait a minute…Hermione’s at the door…*

*Alright, back. She’s wonderful, that Hermione Granger. Other than me, she’s been the happiest
witch at Hogwarts these days. Have I not told you? It’s been ages since I’ve written. So much has
happened since that night at the train station. Firstly, my oaf of a brother has finally taken a
giant dose of his pride and swallowed it ALL (well at least enough to take his head out of his arse
and start talking to Harry and Hermione again). I love him dearly, but really, it was pure bollocks
the way he treated them. You should see Harry! The boy has never glowed like he does now. My heart
melts when I see the three of them together. Their bond is nearly palpable, Diary. Voldemort has
got a lot to handle if he comes face to face with that team any time soon. I just know it.*

*But I’m sure you’re much more interested in what else has been going on, particularly in
**my** love life. Isn’t is odd, Diary, that just months ago I was fretting over whether or not
to dye my hair brown and change my last name, and now I’m waltzing around (well…only in private, of
course) on the arm of the most…Oh, what word is right enough for him, Diary? I really should borrow
Hermione’s seven language dictionary and pick out a decent one for him. For now, I shall simply
refer to him as…Perfect. Perfect Draco. A bit of an oxymoron, I know, but honestly! How could I
envision him any other way? He is perfect to me. But, oh, where was I? Oh, right…the waltzing!
Figuratively speaking, of course. We both know that I have two left feet and no sense of
coordination when I’m not on my broomstick.*

*I’ve been with Draco every moment of every day that I can since December. In between classes
(and during, but promise you won’t tell Ron!), after meals, during Hogsmeade visits, even at night
when I can’t sleep for anticipation of my seeing him the following morning, I sneak out and go to
the gazing room. He’s always there when I arrive, too. I’ll never know how he knows that I’ll be
there, but the security it brings me to go there whenever I want and see him smile at me the way I
know he never smiles at anyone else—it’s magic, Diary.*

*I’ve got to make this quick, though. The train leaves in only three hours and I’ve barely
finished my packing. I suppose you’d like to know what happened the rest of that night, eh? Well,
as much as we both would have liked to stay huddled in that dreadfully drafty tunnel for the rest
of our lives (or at least until we were too hungry to bear it), I knew that my presence would be
missed the next morning. At the exit, we must have argued for hours with each other over what to do
next. I was, of course, set on finding Dumbledore that instant and telling him everything that had
occurred, but Draco would not have it. He’s still so loyal to his father. He’d never expose his
whereabouts or help anyone capture him. I suppose I find that as part of his charm, though. His
passion for loyalty. Oh, bollocks, another bloody oxymoronic thing for me to say about a Slytherin,
eh? But I suppose that is what makes Draco so endearing to me. I find it so amazing that in that
cold soul of his, there lies a warmth (one that he would never admit to feeling or being in touch
with in any way) that some piece of him sets apart for those he cares deeply for. Granted, he
doesn’t *love* his father exactly, and I don’t think I’ll ever understand why he doesn’t wash his
hands of him all together. Whenever I bring it up, he merely holds me closely (the kind of way you
hold someone when they’re getting ready to go to sleep or leave for the evening, like you want that
hug to be the last thing they remember before slipping away) and tells me that he doesn’t exactly
know why himself. It’s just what his intuition tells him to do.*

*I believe that if Lucius is caught, Draco would be partly relieved. I would be as well. He’s
been the alleged instigator of three raids since February against Wizarding events. The World Cup
has been nearly canceled twice so far (Ron nearly strangled Seamus when he read the article in
the* Prophet*). The entire Wizarding world has been affected. The war is…oh, I’d hate to get
started on all that rubbish now. The most important thing to me is that my family and Draco are
safe.*

*Speaking of Draco…Oh, Diary, I feel dreadful for him. As I mentioned before, he refused to
tell Dumbledore anything other than he feared that his safety was in danger because he had refused
the Dark Mark. We decided to leave my role in things out of the conversation. Dumbledore, with his
all-knowing twinkling eyes, seemed to completely understand. He readily offered Draco his own
apartment (close to Slytherin’s dungeons) where only he and Dumbledore could gain access. I was
never given the means to find it on my own (Draco wouldn’t even budge when I tried to snog it out
of him) but I believe it’s as safe as he’s going to get. His lessons have progressed, but I know
that he fears leaving for the summer. He’s not heard a word from his mum since December, and if
she’s been at the London estate for all this time….Draco’s eyes go dark when he mentions it. I pray
for her, Diary. Draco needs her; I know he does.*

*As far as summer goes, I’m not looking forward to it either. What will I do without Draco for
three WHOLE months? If I were any other blathering fifth year girl I’d probably shrivel up and die,
but I’m not (thank heavens) and therefore I will be strong and wait. I just don’t know where Draco
will go. His father has access to all of the mansions, estates, cottages, assorted resorts, and
even private islands (Draco could start his own country with the real estate his family has racked
up). Dumbledore has been keeping close watch over him. Oh, by the way, after Christmas, Pansy
Parkinson disappeared, the pesky little bi—well, let’s not get me started now. I can only imagine
where Voldemort’s got her lurking, waiting for her turn to rid the world of muggles and
muggleborn.*

*But I digress…Draco has no where to go other than the ministry, and there’s no way he would
do that. If he leaves, Lucius will find him, and if the stories I’ve heard are accurate, the Dark
Lord does not take kindly to traitors. Draco turned his back on a life that was preordained—he’s
the perfect source the ministry could use to sniff out a hoard of Death Eaters, and Voldie just
couldn’t possibly have that threat out there, could he? He would do whatever it takes to wipe the
world of Draco Malfoy. Without blinking. If he could blink…I suppose.*

*I’ve offered for him to stay with my family, but that’s out of the question as well. He won’t
put us in that danger (or himself for that matter—I still haven’t quite broken the news that I’m
dating my family’s arch enemy’s son).*

*He’s gone today to have a word with Dumbledore, and I’m sure that he will think of something
for Draco to do. I just hope Draco will suck up enough of his pride to accept the aid of an “old
fool” as he so presumptuously referred to him for 6 years. He should be back any minute now…I’m
dying to see him. I’m sure he could use a hug or something…I just love him so much, I don’t know
what I would do if I lost him to the dark side. I must keep telling myself that he had every
opportunity to choose that path on the train, but he chose **me**, Diary. ME. Little Ginevra
Molly Weasley. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Oh, what marvelous surprises Fate leaves for
us all. Did I mention that Draco makes the most adorable face when he feels uncomfortable? Like
when I mention how cute his nose is or the way his ears are pointy at the tips…I’m giggling just
imagining it. Oh, wait…I think that’s his owl now…bye for now!*

Ginny laid down her quill and rolled off of her bed. The tapping noise that had roused her from
her thoughts persisted, and she sighed as she lifted the heavy window next to Holly’s bed and
Draco’s eagle owl soared in. It fretted for a moment on her bed, beating its wings as if intending
to make her wait for him as he had for her while she daydreamed in front of a book.

“Oh, come now, Onyx! Let me have it.” Ginny reached out and poked the annoyed eagle’s side,
emitting a strangled squawk from its throat. He nipped at the air, harboring the yellow bit of
parchment on his right wing and turning so that his tail feathers were gracefully exposed.

“Oh, aren’t you a cheeky little bugger? Did Draco forget to feed you this morning—again?” She
rolled her eyes and retrieved a piece of toast from the breakfast she had taken in her room that
morning.

“Here you are.”

Onyx eyed the proffered toast with a snobbish glare before tentatively taking a small bite off
one of the corners. Ginny smiled and reached for the letter again, this time successful, as Onyx
began to cautiously devour the rest of the food.

“Thank you ever so much, Onyx.” Ginny snorted and plopped onto the bed beside hers, unfolding
the letter.

*Ginny,*

*Care for a walk before we’re whisked away from this hell hole? I’ve got something important
to tell you. Meet me by the lake.*

*XDX*

“Something important, eh?” Ginny scoffed and crumpled the letter, tossing it into the trash bin
beside her bed. “The last time you had something important to tell me, it was that you were two
seconds away from socking my brother in his big fat head if he scuffed your shoes one more time
with those bloody monstrosities that he calls feet.”

Shrugging, she showed Onyx to the window after giving him a bit of water and headed for the
door. Draco wasn’t supposed to leave the castle while unattended by a professor, but he was just as
bad as Harry when it came to obeying the rules. At least he’d been given back his wand, for use
only during classes and for protection.

Ginny patted her wavy hair down as she descended the stairs towards the entrance hall. Everyone
was mostly in the common room, lazing about before being called for the carriage ride back to
Hogsmeade or (in Hermione’s and Harry’s case) snogging off in some cloak closet to make up for the
next 3 months when good snogging time would be fairly limited.

Even the gloomy pillars in the courtyard could not escape the weather’s warm welcome to the
summer sun. Ginny wrapped her arms around herself, enjoying the warm white glow of the ancient
stones and the piercing blue sky that overlooked Hogwart’s refreshed grounds. It was one of those
days when she would have normally longed to be home, lying out on the grass with her brothers
whizzing by on brooms and the hazy summer heat sticking to her face in golden waves. But today was
different. Today meant leaving more than friends behind.

When she reached the lake, it seemed to liven considerably, dancing back and forth in gilded
ripples, showing off its freshly sprouted water lilies and giddy fish that flirted with the surface
before darting back down into the darkness.

She inhaled deeply and released her breath, easing her way around the water’s edge and into the
more shaded area where tall shrubs thrived and where Draco would be waiting for her. She wasn’t
disappointed.

Draco was standing with his back to her and his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets. She took
a second to admire his regal stance and to get over the first rush of anxiety that filled her every
time she met him when she realized that he was waiting for *her*. He loved *her.* And
then, after she’d gotten rid of that initial reaction, she allowed herself to believe that
everything in the world was completely right for the moment.

“Hello, stranger. I hear you’ve got something important to disclose with me.” She approached
him, hands clasped sweetly in front of her. Her sky blue sundress rustled around her knees in silk
luxury. It was a gift from Draco, bought in some secretive way (he refused to tell) and delivered
by owl the previous afternoon.

Draco took his hands from his pockets and turned eagerly, drinking in the sight of her for a
moment before closing the distance between her and wrapping her in a warm embrace.

“Stranger, eh? It’s been what? Two hours since I last saw you at breakfast, and already I’ve
become a stranger, have I?”

Ginny laughed against his chest, inhaling his scent as if drinking water—in slow gulps so she
could enjoy every moment of it.

“Two very *long* hours, Draco. I’ve been worried, y’know. How did your meeting with
Dumbledore go?” She lifted her eyes to his and bit her lip, waiting for his answer.

Draco’s eyes were the clearest blue she’d ever seen then, and she welcomed the change from the
ever-steely gray that she had been used to in the wintertime. His hair had taken on a more healthy
blonde shade, leaving behind the flaxen hue for light gold. She drew her hands to his face and
traced the outline of his jaw and cheeks as she always did when she was with him, admiring the life
that seemed to slowly breathe back into his skin with the help of time.

It was when she was this close that she could feel the slight tension in his grip around her
waist, and in his crystal pools, she noted the depths of worry that darkened the edges. Feeling his
slight discomfort, she squeezed his torso and kissed his lips shortly, lingering near his chin for
a moment.

She opened her eyes and looked at him expectantly. Draco sighed and leaned his forehead against
hers.

“That’s what I needed to speak to you about. Against my every protest, he has insisted that I
spend my summer at a place that he believes I will be most safe.”

“But where—“ Ginny was cut off as he shook his head briefly for her silence.

“The old bugger’s convinced that my dad will come out for me the minute I step off that train.
So he’s made…arrangements for my mum and me.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes. “Arrangements? What sort of arrangements? I thought your mum was in
bloody London. How on earth did Dumbledore reach her without interference?”

“Calm down, Gin. Let me finish.” He rubbed her forearms with his hands, waiting for the alarm in
her face to drain itself slowly.

“Dumbledore didn’t reach my mum. She reached him. I don’t know how, but she managed to send word
through Eleston just days ago. She’s been held in London ever since November, but has recently
moved to my great grandmother’s chateaux in Paris. She’s said for me not to be sent there—it’s too
dangerous with her whereabouts known to my father. So…she suggested I be sent to one of her
relatives’ place for a while.”

He finished with a tense air, waiting for her reaction. Ginny nibbled her bottom lip, and the
crease between her eyes formed as she mulled over the information rapidly. After a moment, Draco
tilted her chin up and looked at her expectantly.

“Well? Are you going to say something?”

Ginny sighed. “I don’t know what to say. What relative could she possibly have that Lucius would
not know about? I can’t say that I’m too sure that that’s the safest place for you to be either.
Isn’t your mother’s line of family more on the…well…not so friendly side?” She sucked her lip back
in and went to nibbling furiously.

Draco shrugged. “Well, if you haven’t noticed, Gin, both sides of my family aren’t known for
their joyous get-togethers and family picnics. But it’s what the bloody Headmaster—“

“Draco, if you would please be civil towards him. He’s only trying to help you,” Ginny implored,
scowling at him. “I know you don’t like Dumbledore, but he’s really brilliant, I promise. He’ll
make sure that you’re safe. As long as he says you’ll be safe, I trust him.”

Draco nodded with an ironic laugh. “Well, he’s done a fine job keeping Pothead safe hasn’t he? I
believe this year’s the only year that our hero hasn’t had to risk his neck pulling some bloody
harebrained stunt like taking on twenty death eaters alone and such.”

Ginny looked dubious. “It wasn’t twenty.”

“Oh, bollocks. Whether it was twenty or a hundred, I believe that given Dumbledore’s track
record, I’d be safer stowing off on some deserted island and working on my tan while the rest of
all the bloody Scarhead-wannabes take care of all the bad guys, eh? Care to join me?” He grinned
mischievously and nipped at her bottom lip, ceasing her frantic nibbling.

“Draco!” Ginny smacked his arm playfully, unable to stop the smile that snuck onto her face. “Be
serious, please. You’ve got no other choice. Just do what he says…please?” She made her eyes as
wide as possible, enhancing her fan of matching lashes.

Draco seemed torn. “But, Gin! How’m I to know where that sodding—erm…*man*…is going to dump
me off at? What if it’s some smelly witch in Knockturn Alley? D’you *know* what they do to
young wizards of upstanding reputation and agonizingly good looks in a place like that?”

Ginny rolled her eyes dramatically and refrained from smacking the arrogance off of his face. It
was a trait she was working on abolishing but still failing miserably with.

“I suppose they drag him to the nearest dirty cellar and have their way with him?” She said
nonchalantly.

“No! “ Draco looked appalled. “They—they…Hang on…d’you really imagine they’d do that? Should I
buy an attack dog or something? Perhaps have Eleston accompany me wherever I go?” He mentally
envisioned the numerous tragic scenes that could develop if he were left alone to himself in the
middle of Knockturn. He cringed when he imagined his robes covered in dirty fingerprints from the
mobs that would swallow him whole.

When he snapped out of his reverie, he was met with the sight of Ginny bent over and nearly
crying with laughter.

“Oh, now you’ve gone and started that bloody giggling again. Shall I begin CPR or do you think
you can manage to breathe on your own?”

Ginny tried to speak but only collapsed into laughter again. It was nearly contagious, hearing
her bubbling happiness, but Draco refrained from partaking.

He took a seat next to a healthy sized shrub and decided to wait for her spell to pass as it
usually did once she’d worn herself out.

Ginny wiped at her eyes and clutched her stomach. Draco fiddled with a straw of grass and
watched her with one eye. Her wavy hair was about as rebellious as Ginny herself and never wanted
to stay in one place. It flowed like a raging river over her shoulders and just past her elbows,
curling into the sun’s warmth and reflecting it as well. Her cheeks were red with laughing,
enhancing the freckles that were scattered over her nose and cheeks but had been lightened to a
warm golden hue by the sunlight. The mirth in her eyes made them glow almost golden, and he felt
his breath latch onto his throat and lodge itself there. His mouth opened, and as her giggles
subsided and she came to kneel in front of him with an apologetic smile, he said the first thing
that came to his mind.

“You’re beautiful.”

Ginny gulped, clasping her hands over her folded knees. Draco was never one to be very
complimentary, even in private, but when he did it was as spontaneous as a snitch in a quidditch
match. She almost missed his simple comments when he made them, but because they were so rarely
spoken, she held onto them with all her might and allowed herself to enjoy them.

“Thanks…”

Draco shrugged casually, giving her a lopsided grin that had the curious habit of melting her
heart to nothing.

“Just thought I’d let you know.”

Ginny nodded vaguely, absently fiddling with a strand of her hair.

“Thanks…” She breathed again.

“You’ve said that already,” Draco suppressed his chuckle. She was utterly adorable when she
blushed. Why not prolong it?

Ginny’s face didn’t disappoint as it burned even brighter beneath her freckles. When Draco’s
face cracked, and he let slip a deep laugh, she glared at him and crossed her arms again.

“Oh, stop it. I know what you’re doing, and flattery will not delay the inevitable. I still
think you should listen to Dumbledore. It’s for the best.”

His fun over, Draco sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know, Gin. Everything’s
so damn complicated now. How am I supposed to just sit by and hide out while my mother is suffering
and my father is running around in a rage wanting to find me? And he will not stop until he does,
Ginny. I know he won’t.”

Ginny— for lack of something comforting to say—closed the distance between them by covering his
lips with her own, leaving them both a bit more at ease when she parted reluctantly.

“If only we could just snog all summer long. Wouldn’t that make things so much less
complicated?” She nuzzled her nose against his and allowed him to tug her into his lap, her back
pressed against his chest.

“Sounds great to me. However, I doubt you could handle it. I’ve been known to—“

“I suggest you refrain from finishing that sentence if you want to save yourself a bullock or
two.” Ginny warned him sleepily and closed her eyes.

Draco’s wince went unnoticed as she drifted away.

“Ginny…” After a moment, he nudged her to rouse her from her half-asleep state. She responded by
curling into his arms and rubbing her cheek against his chest.

Draco sighed. “There’s…erm…one slight catch to my staying with this relative of mine.”
Ginny mumbled sleepily, “Whatisit?”

“I…well…I’ll be out of contact with everyone. No owls, no floo, no Apparition. Until my father
is captured…I cease to exist.”

“WHAT?” Ginny tore herself out of his arms and around to face him. She fought to find words, but
tears were already threatening to spill.

“Gin, don’t….please…” Draco recognized the signs and pulled her back into his arms. “Now do you
see why I was so hesitant to go along with this? I don’t want to have to spend three
months…well…without you...”

Ginny’s head was pressed to his chest, so she simply nodded and sniffled softly. “Me
either…”

“But perhaps it’s for the best, hmm? Your family was more than thrilled to see me leave at the
start of term, and I can’t say that I didn’t share the sentiment—“

“Draco…” Ginny began warningly.

“Anyway…I just don’t think it’s the best time for them to find out about us. After all, your dad
has been attacked three times in the past year by my father’s affiliates. I doubt he’d much fancy
the thought of you frolicking around with me.”

“We don’t…frolic.” Ginny said defensively.

“Whatever. We snog and that’s enough for any father to go mad over.”

“Alright. I see your point. But that doesn’t alter the fact that I can’t imagine three months
without knowing where you are. Can you not tell me anything about where you’ll be staying?”

She tried to pull her doe-eyes on him, but he instantly turned the other direction and seemed to
suddenly find a preying mantis supremely intriguing.

“Don’t, Gin. I can’t. It’s one of the terms. But in all honesty, I don’t know where this place
is myself. All Dumbledore said was that it was a place where no one could gain access unless
permitted by its resident or himself. All this bloody secrecy is starting to annoy the hell out if
me.”

Ginny nodded in agreement. “Are you certain that there’s no way for me to contact you at all?
Not even if I—“

“Not even if you hop on your wimpy little Shooting Star and fly to me.”

“Hey! It’s not wimpy! It’s a classic!” She elbowed him in his ribs, and he laughed loudly.

“Oh, pardon moi, Mademoiselle. I wasn’t aware that they considered twigs with bristles
“classics” anymore.”

“Well if it bothers you so bloody much, then you can buy me a new broom and be done with it.”
She turned up her nose and “hmphed.”

After second of contemplation, Draco shrugged. “Alright, then. I’ll have it sent before July.
That way you’ll have plenty of time to practice and get ready to eat my dust next year on the
pitch.”

“Draco Malfoy, you are not buying me a broom! What’ll my parent’s say?”

“I dunno. What about, ‘Oy, look! Gin’s got herself a new broom!’”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “They’ll know I couldn’t have afforded it on my own.”

“Tell them it was a gift from a friend.”

“I don’t have any friends with that kind of money.”

“Tell them you stole it.”

“You’re being ridiculous, Draco.”

“Alright then. I’ll let you have it when school starts. Then you can tell your nosey arse of a
brother that you borrowed it from a classmate and we can all watch him seethe with jealousy.” He
rubbed his nose against her cheek playfully and grinned, “Won’t that be fun?”

Ginny laughed despite herself and sighed, resting her cheek against his.

“I love you…did you know that?”

Draco’s first response was to puff out his chest and ask her if she thought she ever actually
stood a chance against falling in love with him, but when she nestled her head against his chest
and squeezed his waist, he felt his heart clench tightly.

“Thank you, Gin…” He mumbled against her head. Ginny nodded softly, not asking him to say more.
And so they remained until the sound of hooves clapping against pavement sounded in the
distance.

Draco stood, pulling Ginny up with him. She instantly clung to his waist and squeezed
tightly.

“Do we really have to go?”

Draco dropped a kiss on her head and nodded. “Afraid so. Unless, of course, you’re waiting for a
knight in shining armor to come whisk you off—“

Ginny tore her head from his chest and playfully glared at him. “I believe that I’m a bit past
that stage, Mr. Malfoy. I’m much more partial to tall, arrogant Slytherins who are way too
attractive for their own good and all too aware of it, as well.”

Leaning forward, Draco tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth and kissed her with enough
emotion to leave her reeling for the entire summer.

After a few more minutes of snogging-goodness, they broke apart, lips throbbing and hearts
beating wildly.

“Three months, eh?” Ginny breathed heavily against his chest.

Draco sighed loudly, trying to catch his own breath. “Three months.”

“Well, too bad we didn’t have a chance to shag before then. It’d be nice to leave you with
something to look forward to when school starts again.” Ginny purred against his neck, and Draco’s
body instantly stiffened. He opened his mouth for a moment and then closed it, giving up on
speaking all together.

Ginny stepped back, wanting to enjoy the crestfallen expression on his face. When he finally
spoke, he pulled her back to him. “Well…we’ve still got about an hour before—“

“Draco!” Ginny laughed and slapped his arm. “I was joking! What d’you think I am? Some
little—“
Smiling, Draco smothered her mouth with his own, drowning out her next words. When they parted, he
smiled deviously.

“Like you said. I’ll definitely have something to look forward to for next year.”

Ginny’s lips spread into a wide grin, and she winked. “We’ll see.”

“I suppose that’s as much guarantee as I’m going to get, eh?” Draco played with her hair
absently.

“Mmmhmm…” Ginny gave a silly laugh and tugged on his hand. “Shall we then?”

Sighing, Draco threw his hands in the air and allowed himself to be dragged along. “Oh, fine.
Let’s ruin the moment with more time inside that bloody school.”

“Well, you can tour the castle if you want. I was thinking more along the lines of an empty
cloak closet, though. You know…for old time’s sake.” She winked again, and Draco rubbed his chin,
mulling over the possibility.

“Well, I suppose it is a bit of a tradition, isn’t it? One last good snog next to a rack of old
dirty cloaks before the summer?”

“Or we could just stay here,” Ginny offered, stopping her slow walk and letting herself melt
into his arms.

Draco smiled silently, playing with the hair on the crown of her head.

“That, Ginevra Weasley, is exactly what I had in mind.”

Ginny nodded in agreement and tried to forget that they would be parting in only minutes for
what would be the longest summer of their lives. But as Draco cradled her head and laid sweet
kisses on her face and lips, she realized that “here” was exactly where she wanted to be all
along.

**“GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY!”**

Ginny and Draco immediately flew apart. Draco growled. Ginny gasped. And across the lake, his
hand clutched firmly in that of Luna Lovegood’s, Ronald Weasley radiated with scarlet rage.

“Want to make a run for it?” Ginny muttered through the side of her mouth.

Releasing his hand from hers, Draco nodded shortly. “See you at the station.”

And they dashed off in opposite directions, Ginny’s hair flying wildly behind her as she prayed
that Ron would run after her and not Draco. The summer would be long, but as they sprinted on
different paths, Ginny felt in her heart that there would always be a bridge that would bring them
back together. And that, she knew, was purely magical.

**------------------------------------------------THE END (for
real!)-----------------------------------------------**

**Until next time!**

**~Adrial~**

**Peace in ‘05**