Harry Potter 1. Apathy

**Chapter One: Apathy**

Ginny wiped a tear from her cheek with her hand as the Hogwarts Express began to pull away from platform nine and three-quarters. The rainy weather outside reflected her dreary mood. It wasn't right—any of it.

_Finally_, after so many years of waiting, she had caught Harry Potter's eye. They went out for a month, and then his hero complex kicked in. She had no idea where he was even now, and she was trying desperately to forget everything about him…

…Like how dashing he'd looked in his dress robes at Bill and Fleur's wedding.

…And how he had taken her aside and kissed her, apologizing quickly afterward for his poor lack of judgment.

…And how she hadn't wanted him to apologize.

…Or stop kissing her.

She _had_ to stop tormenting herself over this. It wasn't worth it.

…_He_ wasn't worth it anymore.

She looked up suddenly as someone knocked on her compartment door. She was alone, having abandoned Luna and Neville for some of her own quiet time.

Ginny couldn't see the knocker through the fogged-up door glass. She opened it and was shocked at what she saw next.

Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her.

"Er…" Draco said, fear apparent in his eyes.

And why should he be afraid of _her_? _She_ should be scared. He was the one who had plotted Dumbledore's death their previous year at Hogwarts. No one was with Ginny, and her wand wasn't in her hand.

Ginny shook herself slightly. What was she doing? Especially when she could be sliding the door into his selectively-pureblood nose?

She moved to do just that, but found she couldn't. He was holding the door steadily in place.

"What the sodding hell are _you_ doing here, Malfoy?" she asked him through gritted teeth.

He sighed tiredly in annoyance. "I was looking for a place to sit, and no one would have me. And, I know you don't want me here, either." He looked around. "Ah, well, yours is the last compartment," he muttered, his lip curling into a sneer. "And you _should_ watch your language. You're starting to sound like your brother."

Ginny ignored his words. "No, I mean, what makes you think you can come back to Hogwarts? After what you did to Dumbledore!"

"I didn't do anything to him."

"Liar," she hissed. "Harry saw the whole thing."

"I didn't even have a bloody _choice_," Draco said darkly. "The Dark Lord didn't forgive my father, and he hasn't forgiven me."

Ginny paused for a moment before flatly saying, "I don't care," and promptly sliding the door closed.

_I don't care about much anything anymore._

* * *

Draco rolled his eyes. _Great_. 

He knew something like this would happen. The rejection. The anger. The shunning. It was to be expected, with his family's reputation combined with his new one. There was nowhere to turn for counsel, nor condolence.

The little Weasley was right about most everything she had said. He was scum, and he knew it. It sickened him.

How he had negotiated his return to Hogwarts, he was still unsure of. He and Professor McGonagall, Hogwarts' new Headmistress, had had a conference discussing his want to continue schooling.

"Though I do not understand _why_ you wish to return, Mr. Malfoy, I cannot argue that education is not important in times such as these," she had told him. "However, I simply will not allow any of my students to be put in danger again."

"I am willing to redeem myself," he had insisted for the umpteenth time. And he meant it. It wasn't as if he had seen the 'error of his ways' exactly, but he knew he never wanted to be part of Voldemort's inner circle again. Scary things happened to those who sought power amongst the Dark Lord, and Draco had been one of the select few to experience them.

"That having been said," Professor McGonagall sighed, "I might consider your proposition. In the case I do, you must understand that you will be stripped of all your privileges as a seventh year student while at Hogwarts. You will hand over your prefect badge. You will not partake in any Hogsmeade trips. You won't have contact with anyone outside of Hogwarts, unless it is absolutely necessary—in which case, your owls will be screened. And most importantly, you will never, under any circumstances, be allowed to leave the school grounds, unless on holiday.

"Now," she resolved, "_that_ having been said, would you still consider coming back to school, given your restrictions?"

"Professor," Draco said earnestly, "I want to come back. I'll be shirked by my peers, but I'll come if it means safety. Put me anywhere but in the front line, and I'll oblige to your rules."

"I won't say you are welcome in Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall, her mouth a thin line on her face. "But you can return if you so wish."

He had thanked the Headmistress and left.

Draco knew it was cowardice he was practicing. Instead of facing Lord Voldemort's temper, he chose to cower behind the walls of a school that he had never called home—but he was indeed safe there.

In fact, there was no place Draco called home.

He was thrown slightly to the right as the train lurched into a turn in the tracks. He braced himself against the wall, grimacing. If only he could find a compartment…

At that moment, Ginny Weasley came out of her solely inhabited compartment and walked briskly past him. "Take it," she snapped, advancing down the corridor without looking back at him.

"Thank you," Draco said quietly to the air, watching as Ginny turned to the left and slid open another door, a voice inside the compartment saying, "Ginny, Luna and I were wondering where you'd got to!"

Without any further ado, Draco gathered his things, which had been strewn across the corridor floor, and entered the compartment. He situated himself and sat down. _Finally_. His feet ached from having to balance himself against the train's constant motion.

Draco was surprised to find himself, after a moment, marveling at the little Weasley's unwilling kindness. He found it strange that she, so deeply rooted in her hatred of him and his family, had pity for him. Pity he didn't deserve.

Dumbledore's death humbled him. First, it was the shock of realizing what he had almost done. He had almost killed the Headmaster by himself. But then—he couldn't. The barmy old man had never given up hope in him. It was as if…as if Dumbledore somehow _knew_ Draco could have some good in him. And that tiny ray of hope triggered in Draco a new Slytherin ambition.

He wanted to start over.


	2. Compassion

**Chapter Two: Compassion**

"Hello, Draco," said a silky voice from behind him, later that evening. Draco turned to face Pansy Parkinson. He raised an eyebrow.

"How did you get here?" he asked her warily. "You weren't on the train."

Pansy smiled and linked her arm through his, directing him to the Great Hall. "Mum wouldn't have me go to school on that Mudblood-loving train this year. Dumbledore's Army is probably paranoid as it is, and I didn't want to be hexed into the next century."

Draco nodded in understanding. He knew just how she felt, and strongly agreed with her.

"But what are _you_ doing here?" she lowered her voice. "I'm surprised the old bat let you in," she added, referring to the new Headmistress, her eyes shifting to the staff table.

The two sat down at Slytherin table, and Pansy leaned in to whisper, "They're all saying Snape killed Dumbledore, but you pretty much arranged the whole thing…is it true?"

Draco looked around cautiously before answering her in an undertone, "Yes." He didn't expound on the matter, but Pansy seemed not to mind. She leant back, arms folded over her chest in triumph, as if to say, "I _knew_ it."

"Well," she said with a faint laugh, right as Professor McGonagall began the welcoming speech. "Good riddance, I say." She studied Draco a second, waiting for him to laugh with her. Instead of finding humor in her words, Draco was watching McGonagall as she spewed out various new regulations placed on the student body of Hogwarts.

"Draco," she muttered, poking his shoulder. "Are you even listening to—?"

"Would you mind?" he interrupted her, apparently annoyed. "I'm trying to listen to McGonagall."

Pansy appeared flabbergasted for a moment, but kept her mouth shut resolutely throughout the entire speech, sorting, and meal, except for whenever she had to shovel food into it.

* * *

Across the hall at Gryffindor table, Ginny Weasley sat between Neville Longbottom and Demelza Robins. Neville was chatting amiably with Seamus Finnigan, and Demelza was describing her summer vacation in Venice to Romilda Vane. Ginny listened half-heartedly to her fellow Gryffindors' conversations as she stared down at her dessert—a lone treacle tart. Her appetite absent, all she could do was wonder how everyone was managing to look, act, and sound normal in such a desperate, dreadful time.

Why couldn't she join them? It would be so amazing, and so simple, to forget her troubles for even one shining moment of forever!

But then, of course, she wouldn't be herself. Oh, sure, she'd put on a façade of happiness during other serious times in her life, but with this feeling of separation, and of loss—there was no way to get her mind off of it.

And what loss, truly? It wasn't as if Harry had died, or anything…perish the thought! But the fact still stood that he and Ginny were no longer together. And something else about Ginny's situation was bothering her…yet she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was.

Could it be Draco Malfoy? His unexpected presence was a sure sign of further evil to come to Hogwarts, no doubt about that. Yes, that must have been it. Malfoy being at school again, that presented many problems to Ginny—many problems, indeed.

Ginny still hated him with every fiber of her being; that wasn't the proposed question. What puzzled her was the pity she had felt toward him, after slamming the compartment door in his face mere hours ago. Her mother once told her, "a compassionate heart gives you a clean conscience," but Ginny knew Mrs. Weasley probably wouldn't feel the same way if the compassion was directed to a Malfoy. He just…looked so utterly pathetic. She hadn't needed her own compartment, anyway. Why not let him have it? Better him to suffer the loneliness than she.

* * *

"Merlin, Draco," Pansy pouted as they left the Great Hall after the feast had ended. "Why did you want me to shut up?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Draco was again irritated. "I told you flat out, Pansy; I was listening to the new rules."

"And since when have _you_ obeyed the school rules?"

"Since I realized they're the only thing protecting me from the Dark Lord."

Pansy gasped. "But why would you—"

Draco silenced her with a violent gesture. "Not here, Pansy…if ever."

She resolutely followed him down to the dungeons and into the Slytherin common room. A huge fire was burning on the hearth, which wasn't out of the ordinary—the dungeons were always freezing cold, even in the summer months.

With no other students in sight, Pansy decided this was an opportune moment for doing what she and Draco usually did when they were alone. She slowly snaked her hand up around Draco's neck, and his arm automatically moved to her waist. But instead of kissing her, he gazed sullenly into the flames of the fire.

This time, Pansy was the annoyed one.

"What _is_ it?" she asked impatiently. "You've been in quite a surly mood this evening. I haven't even heard you comment on the pathetic group of first years. And you always do." She stared at him, waiting for a reaction.

Draco only released Pansy and retreated to the couch closest to the fireplace. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come off it. You had your chance at being part of the greatest world conquest of the century, and you blew it—I get it. But at least have the decency to voice your thoughts to your own girlfriend!"

He lifted his eyes to look at her. "Fine." He shifted in his seat, and she sat down next to him. "I think that you don't understand where I'm coming from. I wouldn't expect you to. So…I don't know how much I can share with you."

Pansy opened her mouth as if to speak, but Draco wasn't finished. "Actually, I don't want to 'share my feelings.' You couldn't even _begin_ to put yourself in my mind frame."

She scoffed—Draco knew she would. "Well, excuse _me_, for trying to be the supportive companion you desperately need! For your information, I can understand everything you're saying perfectly!"

Draco's right eyebrow raised in surprise. "Really, now?"

"Yes, I see: you want to break up, don't you?" her voice was shaking with fury. "I'm not intelligent enough for you, eh?"

Draco began to correct her. "No, that's not—"

Pansy shrieked in exasperation. "Oh, go hook up with a damn _Ravenclaw_, for all I care!" She stormed out of the room and up to the girls' dormitories, her feet stomping on the stone steps haughtily.

The seventeen-year-old wizard on the couch sighed and leant back—a sign of his relief. Pansy had often made him uncomfortable in the past, and _God_, she was at it again. She tried to control him, and it was damn frustrating. No one would control him but _him_, from now on.

He suddenly felt very drowsy…it had been quite a long day. Before Draco knew it, he was beginning to fall fast asleep. Mere minutes later, the sound of his deep snores filled the common room, and no one was there to hear them.


	3. Blending

**Chapter Three: Blending **

"There simply aren't enough students, Filius," Professor McGonagall said. She and some of the teachers were discussing curriculum strategies in the Staff Room at half-past midnight. "We don't have enough time to teach them separately."

"Well," Professor Slughorn butted in, "we did decide to pool all the years together for Defense Against the Dark Arts training lessons."

"But all the staff will teach that at once, seeing as we are without a Defense teacher this year," Professor Sprout reminded everyone.

Professor Hagrid sighed. "So I guess we're back ter square one."

Those present slumped back into their chairs, feeling quite defeated and exhausted. He was right; they had been going in circles for hours, debating on the organization of classes. The limited faculty of Hogwarts was causing far too many problems than Professor McGonagall should have liked.

After a moment, a high-pitched voice sounded from one end of the table. "Perhaps…if we combined two years—"

"No, it's out of the question," Professor McGonagall rejected Professor Flitwick's suggestion. "If you'll recall, back in 1968, Albus attempted the same thing. Oh, the owl complaints that year…angry parents whose children were lagging behind, or being bored to death by lack of challenge…absolute nightmares."

Professor Sinistra glanced up from her map of the September night sky. "I don't see the problem in combining sixth and seventh year N.E.W.T. classes, Minerva. Don't they have the lowest numbers of students, after all?"

Professor McGonagall considered the Astronomy teacher shrewdly. "Yes, they do," she answered curtly.

"Then, there—the problem's solved!" Professor Slughorn boomed. "We only truly need one combination to even things out, correct?"

"It's best to have a good night's sleep before the first day of classes, I always say," Professor Sprout said with resolution. "Conjure up the schedules, and then off to bed!"

"Erm…well, all right." Professor McGonagall was not completely thrilled with the decision of her colleagues; her conclusions were supposed to be final, but Sinistra's proposal was the best she had heard all night. So she obeyed her weary mind's wishes by assisting in the production of the class schedules, and she soon retreated to her chambers for a half-night's rest.

* * *

**Resolutions for a New Year at Hogwarts**—by Ginny Weasley:

_Stop thinking about Harry. _

_Don't miss any classes. _

_Succeed; make good grades. _

_Remember to forget Harry. _

_Learn to do a Wronski Feint, even though I'm not a Seeker. _

_Try to go to sleep earlier, and therefore wake up on time. _

_Boy-Who-Lived who? _

Ginny set her quill down and glanced at the grandfather clock across the common room. Judging by the fact it was one in the morning, she knew she couldn't cross off one thing on her list just yet.

So, the list…it was a habit, and one that she did not intend to break. Every term, since her second year at Hogwarts, she had made a list like the one that lay on the table before her. The major difference between this year's list and the previous years' lists was that this year she had promised herself to forget Harry. In the years before, a top priority had always been 'get Harry to notice me.'

But not anymore. Now, she was determined to put him from her mind. She knew it would be one of the most difficult challenges she could ever face, but she was going to persevere. She could only pray that the pressure of her N.E.W.T. classes would make it easier to limit her time for pondering.

* * *

Draco had woken up in the middle of the night the previous evening, and found himself sprawled on a couch in the common room. Trudging to his room, his eyes felt very heavy. He threw open the wooden door to the seventh year boys' dormitory, not caring whether or not he woke up his fellow Slytherins.

To his astonishment, not a soul was occupying the room. Only Draco, standing in the doorway, cast a silhouette in the bedroom's candlelight. He was the only seventh year Slytherin boy to return to Hogwarts for the new school year. The realization hit him that all his friends must be _out there_, doing what everyone expected of _him_. The situation wasn't completely ironic, but it was odd…very strange, indeed.

He was entirely too sleepy to think about it, and so he quickly changed his pajamas, giving in to rest as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Now, as Draco climbed the dungeon stairs up to Hogwarts' main floor, he felt much better about his decision to continue his education. Without Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Zabini around this year, it would be easier for him to avoid getting into questionable situations. He had been the ring-leader of their group, but now he had no one to lead. He didn't feel pressured in that way anymore, which was a bit refreshing. Pansy had made it clear that she wasn't going to hang around him any longer, so now, he had nobody.

He turned his thoughts to the present day: a more pleasant alternative to what he was currently mulling over.

Though he would never confess such a sentiment to his fellow Slytherins—or to anyone else, for that matter—Draco's favorite time out of the whole school year was the first day of classes. He liked receiving his schedule at breakfast and counting how many Potions hours he had the first week.

Potions was, by far, Draco's best class at Hogwarts. And…he didn't think his former Head of House had anything to do with that. Draco enjoyed brewing concoctions so much, that he even once considered becoming an apothecary owner.

But now, he doubted such a profession would be open to him. Once the Dark Lord took over, there wasn't hope for normalcy to ever truly return…

Draco was being pessimistic again. He had a tendency to look at everything cynically, ever since he witnessed first-hand the growth of Lord Voldemort's dominion. For now, though, Draco was safe inside the enchanted walls of Hogwarts castle.

So lost in his thoughts on the way into the Great Hall was he, that he wasn't quite paying attention to where he was going. "Ouch!" He ran into something solid.

Luna Lovegood stared him in the face as he looked up. She didn't seem swayed by his running into her, but the expression she was wearing wasn't exactly a friendly one—not that he'd expect anything different.

"Have an interesting summer?" she asked him, when he didn't apologize for not looking where he was going.

"Uh…" He had no earthly idea what to say in reply. She was so…queer, that Loony girl.

"I thought so," Luna said knowingly, nodding her head in understanding. "See you around." She traipsed out of the Great Hall, leaving Draco very confused. He didn't even know what he'd just told her; he had said nothing, but she'd discerned something from his silence.

Merlin, why was he troubling himself with Lovegood's mind's inner-workings? He could never understand such a peculiar girl's mentality; he shouldn't try.

Putting all that aside, Draco entered the Great Hall to eat his breakfast.

* * *

Over at Gryffindor table, everyone was passing around the new class schedules. Ginny had already grabbed hers, and was studying it as she ate a piece of toast.

"Free periods are nice," Neville was telling her. "You'll have at least three of those a week."

"Uh-huh." Ginny wasn't paying attention to her friend, or to the milk she was pouring on her cereal. "Oh _Merlin_! Neville, listen: 'Due to scheduling complications, sixth and seventh year classes will merge.' That means we'll be in most of the same classes…"

"Ginny?"

"Why are they grouping us together? I mean, aren't there enough students in—?"

"Ginny!"

She stopped ranting and looked up at Neville, noticing, finally, that she had created a large puddle of milk on the table in front of her.

"Damn," Ginny muttered. As she used the curse word, she could hear Hermione reprimanding her in the back of her mind.

"Colin," she addressed her fellow sixth year and friend, "be a dear, and hand me some of those napkins you've got there." She hadn't learned a useful drying charm yet, so the Muggle way would have to do.

Neville looked at his own schedule as Ginny began to sop up her spilt milk. "That _is_ strange," he commented. "I bet they haven't done something like this for a long time."

"If they start over-doubling houses in our classes, that'll be the end of it," Ginny said darkly. "We'll never _all_ get along." She shifted her eyes to Slytherin table meaningfully.

"I know," Neville agreed, delving into his bacon and eggs.

Ginny finished cleaning up her mess and the wet napkins disappeared—most likely the house elves would have to wash them. Again, she became absorbed in her schedule. Until—

"Neville!" Ginny cried. "They _are_ combining Houses, for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Oh, dear," was Neville's sentiment as he took in the news. "This can't be good."


	4. Mistake

A/N: Kudos to Jane Austen (Rest in Peace) for writing _Pride and Prejudice_, which contains a character named Lydia Bennet—the inspiration for a Hufflepuff OC with the same name. There's a flashback in this chapter. It's in italics. Sorry if italics hurt your eyes. Sometimes they hurt mine. But you can always make the text bigger. :-) Longest chapter yet!

* * *

**Chapter Four: Mistake**

He was the first one to arrive in the Potions classroom. With ten minutes to spare, his thoughts encompassed him, as they tended to do as of late.

Draco had heard whispers among the younger Slytherins at breakfast. They were wondering what had happened to their old Head of House. And Draco knew, almost too well, the fate of Severus Snape. He shuddered to think about it.

Yet he often _did_ think about the last time he saw the professor. The last time Draco would _ever_ see him. Alive, anyway. Snape had been in the process of dying at that point…slowly, and painfully. That moment haunted Draco day and night, and would continue to do so for many years to come.

It had been only a month and a half since that dreary July day at Spinner's End…

_They had been in hiding for a fortnight. Draco was constantly tense with fear. It was only a matter of time before one side discovered them._

_If the Light Side were to find them first, it would be both their necks—even more so if they weren't put on trial before the Wizengamot. If the Dark Side came first, well…Draco had a sinking feeling that it would still mean death. Death by the hand of Voldemort was something he knew he didn't want to experience._

_Weighing their options only made Draco more nervous, but now, as he dragged himself out of bed groggily, it was all he could think about. There was nothing around to distract him from his and Snape's predicament. They were running out of food rapidly at the house, but they couldn't chance going out to buy anything._

_They were wanted men, and that sentiment alone sent shivers down Draco's spine. Maybe, just maybe, he'd rather starve to death before anyone found them._

_Draco pulled on his tattered school robes. He hadn't worn anything besides the uniform since his assault on Dumbledore. The clothes smelled of road dust and mold—exactly opposite of their usually pristine condition._

"_Professor?" Draco had made his way downstairs. He knew he'd find Snape already there. The professor always got out of bed long before sunrise, and retired long after midnight. Draco could tell Snape hadn't slept for the two weeks they'd been holed up; he had constant bags under his eyes and looked even gaunter than in his natural state._

_Draco's call received no answer. He advanced into the kitchen and found Snape sitting at the table; his head and arms were sprawled out awkwardly on the table's surface. The first thought that came to mind was that Snape was dead. But then, the man twitched—a sign that made Draco pray he was still alive. And praying wasn't something Draco did out of habit._

"_Professor Snape!" Draco exclaimed, shaking the professor to arouse him._

_Snape made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a cough. "Malfoy…" he sputtered over his words. "Malfoy, I need t-to tell you…"_

"_What is it, Professor?" Draco asked him, propping him up._

_His voice was barely a whisper, so Draco had to lean down right next to his head to hear him. "The Vow has been fulfilled. You're on your own."_

"_On…my…own?"_

"_Yes!" Snape insisted. His answer was followed by a nasty, hacking cough. "I can no longer h-help you. It's time to go…"_

"_Why are you speaking like this?" Draco was taken aback. "Where are you going?"_

"_Not enough—cough—time—cough—to say!" Snape managed to choke out. "I have to give you—cough—the best piece of advice—cough—that I can."_

"_I'm listening," Draco told him, his eyes wide and afraid._

"_Do—cough—yourself a favor, Malfoy. Choose a side… Before it's too late—cough—and the decision is—cough—made for you."_

_He gasped again sharply. "Tell my mother…that I'm sorry."_

_With one final cough, Snape rolled his head back and surrendered to death._

_Draco sat down shakily in a wooden chair. He stayed there for seconds, minutes, hours. He was in shock._

_It was midday before Draco stirred. His eyes shifted to the worn tabletop in front of him. There stood an empty potion bottle labeled 'Suffocation Solution.'_

_He had wasted enough time in mourning. Draco honored Snape's last request and sent the double agent's black owl, Hephaestus, to his mother._

_Draco spent the next two days preparing a grave for the professor. He dug a hole in the backyard, five feet deep, two wide, and seven long and fashioned a makeshift coffin out of Snape's old bed. He didn't have a chisel for a gravestone, so he took a slab of concrete from the cracked sidewalk in front of the house and wrote on it with charcoal. The slab read, 'Here Lies Severus Snape, Potions Master and Beloved Son.' Draco didn't know what else to write, for Severus Snape had been a most confusing man, torn between two sides of the current war._

_It was then that Draco decided he would not have the same fate. He had been raised to love the power he could have with the Dark Lord, but now more than ever, he only saw death in his future—if he continued down his father's path. Lord Voldemort didn't care about him; Draco was only trouble to him. If Draco revealed himself to Lord Voldemort now…he would surely be killed on the spot._

_He knew the one place he could find safety. He would travel there, as soon as he gathered all he needed. That place wouldn't welcome him. That place hated him. But he would go to Hogwarts. It was his only hope._

And so there Draco was. He didn't want to be there. He was just afraid; his fear had driven him.

Pansy entered the classroom. She slinked over to Draco's table, but sat at the opposite side of the table, way down at the other end. She folded her arms resolutely, daring him to provoke her.

Draco ignored her presence from thence forth, rummaging in his bag for his scales, book, and other materials. He was the only student, it seemed, who was fully prepared to begin the class when the bell rang.

Potions had always been his best subject.

* * *

"Welcome to N.E.W.T. Potions!" Professor Slughorn boomed after the tardy bell rang. "And seventh years, welcome back. We'll wait for a few stragglers before we begin…" 

Ginny was the only Gryffindor in the classroom. She looked around, not seeing much in the way of prospects for Potions partners—not out of this group.

Hufflepuff Lydia Bennet was too ditzy and boy-crazy (though she had a fairly sharp mind) to work with; Ravenclaw Will Donoghan was too much of a ladies' man; Richard Fitzpatrick was too…well, he was a Slytherin, and that was all that mattered to Ginny.

In addition to those sixth years, five seventh years were scattered around the classroom. Ginny saw her ex-boyfriend Michael Corner sitting up at the front with a dark-haired boy named Terry Boot. Ernie Macmillan was with the two. Seated at a table in the back of the room were the three Slytherins of the class: Richard, Pansy Parkinson, and Draco Malfoy. A pang of annoyance washed over Ginny. Not only was the slimy bastard back at school—now she'd have to deal with him being in her class.

She had been pleasantly surprised that she'd been elected for N.E.W.T. level Potions. Not that she favored the subject; she only needed the credit and experience to enter Healer training after graduation. Her mother was proud of her ambition. The first Healer in the family! None of her brothers had aspired to the profession, so Ginny had something to call her own.

Luna Lovegood ambled into the room at that moment, looking as if she were daydreaming. Ginny guessed she probably was.

"Miss Lovegood!" Slughorn greeted the Ravenclaw. "Do take your seat, straight away… Are you the last one, my dear?"

Luna took her seat at the table Ginny, Will, and Lydia were occupying and answered the professor passively, "I believe so."

"Oh…well," the professor looked baffled. "Isn't Mr. Potter coming? Or Miss Granger? And that redhead fellow—Roonil, was it?"

Ginny cleared her throat softly. "Erm…they aren't returning this year, Professor."

As Ginny had expected, Slughorn didn't take the news well. "Not returning? That's preposterous! Why wouldn't they…?" A look of comprehension dawned on the man's face. "Oh, yes. So that's why Albus…never mind. All right, everyone, I do believe we wasted enough time today. Please take out your supplies, and we'll get to work." Ginny wondered what was going through his head, because she had no idea why Harry wasn't coming back to school. Well, it had something to do with Voldemort—that she knew. But there had to be something else there.

He waited for the students to settle down as they did what he bade them, before he spoke again. "I realize that you sixth year students mustn't be up to par with the seventh years, on your difficulty levels. This is perfectly understandable, of course.

"However," Slughorn continued, "I can't have any one of you falling behind, not with the tight schedules this year. We're incorporating extra-long Defense classes for students to…prepare themselves for the—er—what's going on in the world right now. There simply isn't time to review anything rudimentary."

Ginny nearly rolled her eyes. Why didn't he just come out and say it? War was in their midst, daily jeopardizing the lives of wizards and Muggles alike.

"This will be a sight unconventional, but… Today, you will concoct a Pepper-Up Potion—perhaps Madam Pomfrey's given you one in the past, eh? Page twenty-one… _Twenty_-one, Macmillan, not thirty-one.

"I'll judge, by the quality of your potion, whether or not you can hold your own in my class. If not…we'll work something out. Seventh years, consider this as practice."

Ginny opened Ron's used copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ to the correct page, and her head spun when she met a long list of ingredients and directions. She sighed.

Potions had never been her best subject.

The next hour was a blur for Ginny. She feverishly chopped roots, crushed Erumpent horns to a fine powder, and sliced caterpillars, adding them into her solution as prescribed by the book.

When it came time to wash her scarab beetles, Ginny made her way over to the gargoyle water spouts at the back of the classroom. She went about her business, soaking the dead beetles thoroughly. After she finished dousing them, she began to carry the dripping wet ingredients back to her station.

"I wouldn't put them in like that if I were you," a voice to her side whispered.

Malfoy was standing over his cauldron, stirring its contents diligently. He had a knowing smirk on his face. Ginny rolled her eyes. Malfoy thought he was so brilliant.

"Just watch me," she retorted angrily. She'd show him. Then she marched over to her cauldron and plopped the wet beetles into it.

The potion sizzled; nothing out of the ordinary happened. Ginny looked over her shoulder at Malfoy with a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

Malfoy wasn't paying attention to her, but to her cauldron, which was emitting abnormal puffs of smoke. The book said that _wisps_ of smoke were supposed to come next…

"Everybody, duck!" shouted Malfoy. The whole class obeyed his command—everyone but Professor Slughorn, who was presently making his rounds among the class, checking students' potions and taking notes. He was going to assess Ginny's potion, but then—

_BOOM!_ Ginny's concoction erupted right into his face.

The eruption gave him the definitive answer he needed. After performing a cleaning spell on himself, he turned to an apologetic Ginny. "Too much 'up' and not enough 'pep,' I'm afraid," Slughorn said. "I'll be seeing you after class, Miss Weasley."

Ginny nodded dejectedly. She looked down at her potion, which was completely ruined. Merlin, if only she hadn't tried to disprove Malfoy…it was really his fault for taunting her, though, wasn't it?

The rest of the class went by as slowly as molasses for Ginny. She tortured herself by reading over and over again in her potions textbook where it said to _dry_ the beetles before putting them into the cauldron. Now she'd have to drop out of Potions. Her future career would go down the drain before it even started.

After her long bout of self-pity, the end of class finally came. All her classmates had passed with their variations of the Pepper-Up Potion. Luna's had been perfect—it made Slughorn's ears smoke, and everything.

Ginny solemnly slung her book bag over her shoulder and walked up to Slughorn's desk as the other students filed out of the classroom. Malfoy was loading his bag at the back of the classroom. "Mr. Malfoy, back there!" Slughorn called to the platinum-haired Slytherin. "Please, come up here."

Malfoy did as the professor asked and stood a good five feet to the side of Ginny.

"Right, then," Slughorn said, clearing his throat importantly. "Miss Weasley, you don't seem to have the patience it requires to succeed in my class."

"I am very sorry, Professor Slughorn," Ginny apologized. "I understand my mistake completely, and I assure you, it won't happen again. Ever again."

"It can't happen again; I won't allow it. That is why I'm appointing Mr. Malfoy here as your Potions tutor."

Both Ginny's and Malfoy's jaws dropped. "But, sir…you can't be serious!" Ginny exclaimed.

"I can and I am," Slughorn said sternly. "And if you've got a problem with my teaching methods, you can leave straight away." He gestured to the door.

Ginny was silent. She couldn't jeopardize her enrollment in the class.

"Now, I'll expect to see an improvement in you in a few classes, if not the next one. You and Mr. Malfoy will work out a tutoring schedule to suit you both," Slughorn ordered them.

"But, Professor, maybe one of the Ravenclaws would be better—" Malfoy began.

"No 'buts,' Mr. Malfoy. Without Miss Granger and Mr. Potter here this year, you're the best choice. While you may lack a sense of humor, you also have a veritable amount of skill in my subject matter." He looked from one to the other. "Any questions?"

"No, Professor," was the collective reply.

"Well," he said, "do enjoy your lunch!"

Ginny turned on her heel, Malfoy at the same time. He was walking toward the door faster than she was. Ginny quickened her pace. Soon they were racing to be the first out of the room. They reached the doorway together. Ginny pushed herself out first, slamming her shoulder into his arm hard as she could. She considered it her sign to him that he wasn't to mess with her.

_Bloody Malfoy and his bloody potions._


	5. Interest

A/N: Draco's part of this chapter is considerably shorter than Ginny's. This chapter was just plain fun to write, so I hope everyone likes it!

* * *

**Chapter Five: Interest**

Draco was sitting in front of his lunch, trying to think about how to solve his current predicament. Which was the better choice: turn himself over to Lord Voldemort, or suffer through Merlin-knew how many tutoring sessions with little Ginevra Weasley?

"Well, this is going to be interesting," Pansy commented as she sauntered past him.

"What are you talking about, Parkinson?" Draco called to her.

Pansy shifted her eyes around the Great Hall and walked back to Draco. She sat down uncomfortably close to him, to speak into his ear.

"Just you and the Weaslette," Pansy said casually.

"But how'd you know—?"

"Oh, please," Pansy scoffed at him. "Gossip travels faster in this castle than among the cubicles at _Witch Weekly_'s office, these days."

"Get to the point, will you?"

"When I said to go hook up with a Ravenclaw, I didn't mean for you to gallivant off with just _anyone_!"

"I think you've got your wires crossed," Draco told her, shaking his head. "It's just that barmy old codger Slughorn, making me tutor her."

"That's a relief…but still, Draco…a Weasley and a Malfoy working together? It's completely unheard of! And as if it weren't bad enough, the two of you happen to be of opposite sexes. Factor in that you'll be spending oodles of time together, alone and unsupervised in the dungeons… I'm telling you now: people will start insinuating certain things…"

Draco grimaced. "You really think so?"

"I _know_ so," Pansy said, looking at him pointedly. "They sure aren't going to think you're concocting elixirs all that time."

"But we'll be doing just that!"

"My God, Draco, don't be daft. People will believe whatever they think is true."

It was inevitable, in other words. Draco only sighed hopelessly.

"I think I know of a way you could avoid all the slander," Pansy said, walking her fingers up his arm playfully.

"Would that by any chance involve you, me, and a snog tonight in the Astronomy Tower?"

"What else?" Pansy hissed into his ear. Obviously, she thought she was going to succeed in seducing him.

"No thanks," Draco declined Pansy's not-so-subtle offer.

Pansy frowned. "I'm being quite forgiving, Draco. If you knew what was good for you, you'd have me back."

"I _do_ know what's good for me," Draco retorted. "Don't act so desperate—yeah, I'm aware of just why you're cozying up to me. I'm the only male seventh year Slytherin who's here this year. So unless you're going to change your sexual orientation and hook up with Millicent Bulstrode, I'm your only hope for romance this year."

"Oh, you are evil!" Pansy shrieked under her breath, so as to avoid attracting any stares. "I'd kill you, here and now, if there weren't so many witnesses."

"A comforting thought."

"For your information, there are a number of Ravenclaw boys who'd be just as romantic as any Slytherin."

"Ah, but it'd never be the same, would it?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Of course not."

"Well, go find Terry Boot and ask _him_ to meet you in the Astronomy Tower tonight, because I'm not."

"Maybe I _will_," Pansy said stubbornly. "But what about your little Red problem?"

"I can take care of myself."

* * *

Ginny was about to sit down for lunch when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She whirled around, facing Michael Corner.

"Hi, Ginny," he said, grinning. "Could I talk to you for a minute?"

"Um, sure," Ginny replied hesitantly, hoping against hope he might offer to be her Potions partner, rather than Malfoy.

"Follow me," Michael instructed her. He led her to a space of wall outside the Great Hall.

"So, what's all this about?" Ginny asked, when he didn't say anything right away.

"I was wondering…if you're not doing anything later…" He paused. "Want to meet me by the statue of Gregory the Smarmy later on…say, eight-thirty tonight? To get…reacquainted?"

Of course all he wanted was to ask her out. Typical Michael. She'd thought he'd been eyeing her in class. Gregory the Smarmy had been their snog-rendezvous of choice when they were still dating—a perfect place, in a normally deserted corridor… But Michael's wishes weren't coming true.

"What makes you think I would want to snog you, especially since _I_ was the one who dumped _you_?" Her voice was incredulous.

"I've been waiting for this chance ever since you started dating Dean Thomas!" Michael confessed. "And besides, you could use a little comfort, after Potter dumped you…"

Judging by Ginny's open mouth, Michael could tell he'd said the wrong thing.

"Where'd you hear _that_?" Ginny demanded, her eyes narrowed and her hands on her hips.

"I, uh, assumed, after Dumbledore's funeral—"

"Were you _spying_ on me, Corner?" She couldn't believe his nerve.

"I heard it through the grapevine, all right?" he said, raising his hands in defeat.

"Michael, it's really none of your business whatever's going on between Harry and me."

"It is if I'm interested!" Michael exclaimed, nearly shouting.

"Interested in what, exactly?" Ginny wanted to hear his explanation, even though she got the general idea.

"In getting with you again," Michael breathed. He advanced closer to her and took her hand in his. "Maybe you made a mistake, Ginny. Maybe we could have had more together."

It was too much for her. "Merlin, Michael… You can't be serious?"

He looked hurt. "Of course I am."

She sighed heavily. "Look, I—I'm not going to complicate my life any further. Sorry, Michael." She wriggled her hand out of his grasp.

"Oh, I see. You're not over him," Michael surmised. "Well, when you are…I'll still be around; you know where to find me." He winked at her.

"Right," Ginny nodded. She wasn't being sarcastic. She just didn't know what else to do but humor him. Michael Corner, pining for her all last year? It was something she hadn't expected. Not after his hook-up with Cho Chang at the end of his fifth year.

Michael left to greet his housemates, and Ginny sat alone at her respective table. It wasn't long before Romilda Vane passed her. Romilda did a double-take, recognizing Ginny.

"Oh, Ginny! I've been meaning to speak with you!" the fifth year girl said happily, taking a seat across from her.

"Sure, Romilda," Ginny answered in a bored voice as she began to serve herself.

Romilda took the chance to start up the conversation. "How's Harry this year? I don't think I've seen him."

"You haven't," Ginny told her enigmatically.

"Is he avoiding me?" Romilda wanted to know. "I always get the feeling that he tries to…but as to why, I'm completely clueless…sorry, what was that?" She had heard Ginny mutter under her breath, 'Clueless, all right.'

"Nothing," Ginny said quickly. "Romilda…I have something to ask you myself."

"Ooh, what is it?" Romilda seemed eager to answer an older girl's question.

"Do you ever think of anything besides Harry?"

Ginny's counterpart scoffed. "Of course I do! There're loads of things, like baking and love potions and…" Romilda put a hand over her mouth.

"Just what I thought," Ginny said. "Take it from someone who knows—you need help."

"Will _you_ help me, Ginny?"

"All you need to do is remember that there are other wizards at Hogwarts," Ginny instructed her. "How about…how about Colin?"

"Colin Creevey?" Romilda wrinkled her nose.

"Definitely—Colin's sweet, funny, and sensitive. You'd like him if you gave him a chance."

"Well, yeah. He's nice. But he's no _Harry_," Romilda gushed.

"You're not going to find many guys quite like Harry," Ginny assured her. "I'm confident of that."

"But he'll still be around, you know? How can I forget him?" _Which is just _my_ problem_, Ginny thought.

"Believe me, Romilda: you won't be seeing near as much of Harry as you did last year."

"What do you mean?"

"He's not here, and he's not coming back."

"Oh."

"Right, so you can focus on…finding yourself," Ginny informed her. It was the same advice Hermione had given her when _she_ had been obsessed with Harry. Ironic, how things had changed.

"How?"

"Get involved in a club or something. Charms Club, Quidditch—anything. There's a list posted in the common room."

"Wow, Ginny. Thanks so much!" Romilda squealed. "But you understand if I don't go after Colin, right?"

"Completely," Ginny humored her.

Romilda bade her farewell and bounded down the table to her ring of girlfriends, leaving Ginny alone once again.

Ginny finished her lunch before Neville entered the Great Hall. She wondered where he could be. Chances were he'd had some sort of mishap in his previous class. Lunch was nearly over, anyway. Her conversation with Michael had put her behind schedule. She gathered her things and made her way out of the nearly empty Great Hall.

Without warning, icy cold fingers reached out and wrapped around Ginny's wrist, pulling her into the shadows behind a marble pillar.

Assuming it would be Michael trying to woo her, she started to say, "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times—I'm not interested."

"Neither am I," muttered the figure who had grabbed her. Squinting in the semi-darkness, Ginny recognized her least favorite person of the hour: Draco Malfoy.

"What the hell do you—?" Ginny began in an outraged voice.

Malfoy cut her off. "Before you say anything else, you can thank me for approaching you here, rather than in front of the entire student body of Hogwarts." He gestured to the Great Hall in explanation.

He had a point. The less she was seen with him, the better. "All right, Malfoy. What do you want?"

"Perhaps you've forgotten, but Professor Slughorn has asked me to tutor you," Malfoy said, his voice full of derision.

"More like _ordered_ you," Ginny muttered at the ground. "But I'm sure it's all part of your plan."

"My plan?" Malfoy sounded as if he had no idea what she was talking about. Ha! She knew better.

"Yes, your precious 'Master' has given you an assignment. So you're coming after me for information about Harry, by trying to get close to me. Well, it's not going to work!"

"Don't flatter yourself, Weasley. I wouldn't waste my precious time with you, if I were given a choice. There are no ulterior motives here."

"I'm not letting my guard down," she warned him sternly.

"Fine," said Malfoy, holding his hands up in a surrendering motion. "The fact still stands that you're going to have to work with me. And hard."

"I want to be rid of you as soon as possible, so that won't be a problem."

"Very nice…" Malfoy said sarcastically. He sighed tiredly and took out his schedule. "When are your free periods?"

Ginny consulted her own schedule. "Tuesdays, first thing…all of Thursday mornings, and all of Friday afternoons."

"Only Fridays would work for me," Malfoy replied. "That will give us weekends to work on potions that take longer than a day to brew."

"Hopefully, that won't happen," Ginny said threateningly. "We're not doing any more than we need to."

"Hey, this is an unwelcome chore for me, too," Malfoy reminded her.

"Right…well, if you don't mind—actually, I'll drop the niceties. I'm going to Charms, whether you mind it or not."

"Whatever," Malfoy sneered. "Just meet me in Dungeon Number Four right after lunch on Friday."

Ginny didn't spare him a good-bye.


	6. Hatred

A/N: Yes, it's been a long time. Not as long as In Nomine Amoris, though. Enjoy the tension!

Note that the breaks aren't working.

o O o O o

**Chapter Six: Hatred**

"Why couldn't we have used a classroom?" Ginny wanted to know. She was shivering to the bone, even through her robes. Malfoy was in the process of preparing the cauldron.

"Oh, come off it, Weasley," Malfoy told her, lighting a fire with his wand and placing the pewter cauldron over it. "It's not as if you and your boyfriend are picking a place to snog. And I don't know if anyone's told you, but cold places are optimal for potion-brewing. That's why we use the dungeons in this castle."

"Oh," was Ginny's dumb reply. Malfoy had thrown her with that 'snog' comment.

"While you're just standing there, you can start chopping the daisy roots," Malfoy instructed her, gesturing toward the ingredients on the table standing between them.

"Fine," Ginny huffed, grabbing a knife and beginning to perform the task carelessly.

"Make them even," Malfoy murmured, not even looking up from what he was doing. Ginny looked down at her work and saw in her haste that the roots were indeed uneven. Merlin, it was like he was psychic.

Ginny did as she was told, sucking in a deep breath to stop herself from retorting. _I have to continue Potions_, she reminded herself. _Healing…healing…_

"What are we brewing, anyway?" Ginny asked after a while, when she was almost done with the daisy roots. He should've told her before now. He was _supposed_ to be her tutor, wasn't he?

"A Shrinking Solution," Malfoy replied right as the water in the cauldron started to boil.

"A Shrinking Solution?" Ginny echoed incredulously. "But that's _third year_ standard! I'm above that!"

"Part of the reason third years learn to brew it is that it requires the precise following of instructions. Otherwise," he smirked, "it could blow up in your face."

Ginny glared at him, knowing, without any doubt, that he'd hurt her ego intentionally. She said nothing; it would give him _way_ too much satisfaction if she did.

There was hardly anymore talking after that, due to Ginny's raw determination and Malfoy's blatant disinterest. If there was one thing that could be said was difference between Ginny and her brother Ron, it was that Ginny had a far better control over her temper.

Currently, Ginny was stirring the solution in the way Malfoy had read from the book. She was frustrated. He wasn't really teaching her anything she didn't know already.

She beat the potion a bit more forcefully as she remembered Malfoy's snide remark. What was he playing at anyway?

All right, never mind that. He was Malfoy, after all, and that alone explained everything. Any chance to point out a fault, and there he was with his little, sneering expression…

Maybe she'd talk to Slughorn again. That mangy drunkard…he'd probably been on a buzz when he paired her off with Malfoy. The potion slopped against the sides of the cauldron, gaining Malfoy's attention.

"No, no, no," Malfoy corrected her. "You've got to stir with more of a fluid movement. What you're doing is too harsh and might disturb the magical elements within the potion."

"You do it, then," Ginny snapped, fed up with his snotty criticism.

"Then what would be the point of this? I'm _trying_ to teach you—"

"You don't seem to have the patience to teach me," Ginny cut him off.

"I wouldn't point any fingers, Weasley," Malfoy drawled. "After all, it's your lack of patience for the art of potion-making that got you here in the first place."

"Why, you—!"

"You can't argue, because it's true. We wouldn't be here if you'd just listened to me when I told you to dry your scarab beetles."

"We wouldn't be here if you hadn't _provoked_ me!"

"I wasn't provoking you—"

"Anything you can possibly say would provoke me."

"I should just shut up, then? And then you can explain to Slughorn why you've not improved in a few weeks, hmmm?"

Ginny shrieked exasperatedly. She had finally lost her temper.

o O o O o

The little Weasley had apparently had enough. Draco guessed he'd pulled one too many strings with the scarab beetles comment. But if she wasn't going to take this seriously, maybe she wasn't cut out for N.E.W.T. Potions.

Voicing this, he quickly decided, would only be his undoing.

Meanwhile, his tutee was fuming. It seemed her livid insides were boiling in sync with the cauldron.

"I really can't believe you! I'm trying to concentrate, but that's quite difficult to do with you breathing down my neck, just itching to point out any wrong moves I make!"

"Fine," said Draco, crossing over to the table of ingredients. "I'll be over here."

"That's right, you scumbag," he heard her mutter under her breath.

"What was that?" Draco asked sharply.

"Well…you heard me," Ginny said, tossing her ponytail behind her shoulder. "I can't _stand_ this much longer!"

"Oh, that's a surprise," Draco quipped sarcastically, "because I'm having a right _picnic_ over here…"

"I swear I could kill you here and now…no witnesses…" It was really amazing how much she and Pansy were alike in a homicidal respect.

"I'm actually trying to be civil to you, in case you've not noticed," Draco told her, nearly shaking with frustration. "Why can't you be civil to _me_?"

"You forget you've done nothing to earn my respect," said Ginny, with a sneer worthy of a Slytherin.

"It's not like you've done anything to deserve mine, either," Draco said defensively.

"The respect of Slytherin," Ginny pretended to muse. "Now, why ever"—here her false demeanor was replaced by a harsh, incessant tone—"would I want _that_?"

"And the respect of a Gryffindor is so glorious, is it?" Draco spat, his own manner slipping back to his spoiled way of thinking. "What do Gryffindors have to their name but a rash temper and a blatant disregard for the rules?"

"Well, Slytherins aren't what one would call saintly, are they? Plus, Gryffindors have got more feeling than Slytherins. At least Gryffindors aren't _heartless_!"

"Without a heart, am I?"

"Yes, you miserable, spoiled little son of a—"

Draco cut her off. "You have no IDEA who I am!"

"I know WHAT you are, and that's good enough."

"And what am I?"

"A bloody Malfoy, of course! You walk around the school as if you owned the place—an incarnation of Salazar himself."

"Everyone knows that Weasleys are scum, and a blood-betraying lot who don't know when to keep their wands out of other people's faces."

"All you're doing is pointing out the main reasons our families hate each other."

"But that's the root of it all, isn't it? Family rivalry."

"There's a hell of a lot more to it than that, Malfoy."

"Care to expound?"

"Do I really have to? I'm positive you know what I'm talking about."

"No, really—enlighten me," he implored coolly of her.

"You committed a treachery only dreamed of by any of You-Know-Who's supporters. You allowed Death Eaters—nay, _beckoned_ them—into the castle. While they attacked the castle's inhabitants, you and your buddy Snape killed the greatest, most intelligent wizard who ever walked these grounds—"

"Don't speak of things you don't understand!" Draco ordered her, a bit hot in the face. He hated thinking about Snape; why did she have to bring this all up? Of course, no one but him knew about the Potions Master's death.

"I understand everything perfectly!"

"You never thought that maybe, for one second, I had no choice. But I tried to explain that to you on the train. You wouldn't listen to me!"

"Yes, because I know you're conducting some evil plot here, and I'm going to find out what—"

"My God, it's just so impossible that I came back _without_ orders from the Dark Lord, is it? That I came to Hogwarts, fleeing the very people I was becoming one of? Even though I knew everyone in this place, faculty and students alike, would hate me, shun me, and fight me when I returned? You don't KNOW what I've been through, why I'm here, where exactly I've come from, or WHY I'M EVEN STAYING IN THIS DAMNED CASTLE!"

Draco broke off, breathing heavily. He'd been holding all that tension inside himself for two months, and it had finally come out.

Ginny was, as it appeared, speechless. She merely gaped at him, a look in her eyes with a mix of wonder and…something else. Sympathy? No, a Weasley would not be so kind.

"I—look, Weasley: I'm not asking for you to believe me," said Draco, after he had calmed down. "Just tolerate me, and I'll do you the same. I'm not sure Slughorn's giving you a choice."

She didn't voice a reply, but her eyes remained wide with shock at his previous, unexpected outburst.

He turned from her, not quite knowing what to do with himself. What more could he say, anyway?

Within a few seconds, he heard her sneakers trod across the room, away from him. He twisted around to only see a mass of auburn hair disappear behind the wooden door to the dungeon. She was gone.


	7. Peacemaker

A/N: So sorry for the long wait!

Love,

Christine (suckr4romance)

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Peacemaker**

So, Ginny had been putting it off. Maybe it was her intolerance; maybe it was her stubbornness. Whatever it was, it was preventing her from approaching Malfoy about the whole "tutoring" fiasco.

She didn't want to talk about it, but something had to be done. If she hadn't improved in her potion-making by the time Monday's class rolled around, Slughorn would probably have her drop his N.E.W.T. course.

Currently, Ginny was sitting at a table in the library, attempting to pour over the textbook in front of her. The book happened to be _Advanced Potion-Making_. She was failing miserably. The words swam together, her eyes blurring. It was then that she realized she was crying.

She wiped a tear away using her little finger. How was it she could cry over Potions, and not over the war? For some reason, in starting her sixth year at Hogwarts, she had grown out of her habit of crying herself to sleep every night. All summer, she'd done just that. And she knew it was more than just Harry making her feel that way. She most often thought of her brothers, her parents, other Order members, and even Fleur, on occasion.

She suddenly felt very small…what could little Ginevra Weasley do to help in the big scheme of things? She couldn't even pass in Potions class, let alone hold her own in some epic battle scene.

The tears were a combination of all the things bothering her, and this utterly stupid thing with Malfoy had broken the barriers for the waterworks. She wouldn't let this happen. Malfoy wasn't the root of her problems and he _certainly_ wasn't worth thinking about.

Ginny sniffed and wiped her face clean, resolution present in her expression. If she couldn't resolve her argument with Malfoy, she knew she had to do everything in her power to better herself in potions on her own terms.

"Ginny?" A soft voice seemed to call to her from afar. Ginny looked up.

"Hullo, Luna," she sighed.

"You look tired," Luna observed, her translucent eyes wide and earnest.

"I am." Ginny's tone was a bit grouchier than she'd intended.

"You know," Luna began as she sat down opposite Ginny, "people say the strangest things sometimes."

"You don't say?" Luna _was_ one of those people, so Ginny was a little interested to see where this was going.

"Anthony Goldstein said something in N.E.W.T. Muggle Studies today and it made me wonder…"

"Wonder what, Luna?" Ginny was growing impatient.

"Well…you weren't with Draco Malfoy just now, were you?" It was pretty mental for Luna to be talking like this; her words sounded similar to something Lavender Brown or Parvati Patil would say. "Anthony said that he heard the most _awful_ things about the two of you."

"What? What kind of things?" Ginny's face paled and her eyes grew wide in horror.

"I don't believe them, of course. I know you better than that. You hate Malfoy!"

"Damn straight," Ginny muttered.

"What I was wondering was, why have people been spreading that around, if it isn't true?" Luna wondered, tapping her chin thoughtfully. Luna, it seemed, had an almost naïve worldview, to think it strange people would spread rumors.

"Malfoy's my Potions tutor," Ginny divulged to her friend. "But people won't be satisfied with that explanation; they just have to keep—"

"Your Potions tutor!" exclaimed Luna, a little too loudly. Ginny shushed her.

"Sorry," Luna apologized.

"It's all right," Ginny whispered. "I just don't think spreading the word is the best idea."

"You're right. It would only make matters worse. People are already saying that you're using Malfoy on the rebound from Harry…Ginny, are you quite all right?"

Ginny's complexion was pale as a ghost, her face whiter than before. She didn't answer Luna, only staring off into space.

"Ginny?"

She blinked, coming to. "Luna, _who's_ saying all this?"

"I'm not sure, because I only overheard Anthony. I suppose someone else first said it, but as to who did…" Luna trailed off, her normal dreamy, thoughtful look about her features.

Ginny's mind reeled as she considered possible suspects. A Slytherin or a Gryffindor? No, her housemates would be on her side about this…unless of course it was Lavender, who very obviously resented her entire family now. But Lavender, Ginny assumed, was not so creative as to start a whole rumor by herself. Sure, the girls could pass one on and fudge it up a bit, but beginning from scratch? Ginny had her doubts.

Just as Ginny had settled on the rumor-monger being a Slytherin, Luna chose the moment to speak.

"Ginny, I know what to do."

It was one of the clearest, most decisive statements Ginny had ever witnessed come from Luna's mouth. She nodded, encouraging her friend to continue.

"I'll just go ask Draco Malfoy what he thinks," said Luna, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Ginny hesitated. "Oh, Luna, I don't think you should do that. It'll just create more friction where there needn't be any—"

"I think it's for your own good—his and yours," Luna assured her. "Stay here; I'll be back shortly."

Luna left without another word and all Ginny could do was gape after her helplessly. She did as Luna instructed, finding herself unable to move an inch, frozen in shock. In the hands of Luna Lovegood, what could one do but sit back and watch as her life unfolded before her very eyes?

* * *

Draco had just finished cleaning up his mess (he had decided to brew the potion himself, to get his mind off things) in dungeon number four and was locking its door when he heard someone's footsteps from down the corridor. Probably Pansy, come to bother him about the Weaslette again. She'd never cease to annoy him; it was an awful fact he'd have to live with the rest of his life…if only he could be spared of that living Hell…

But, upon turning, Draco found that it was _not_ Pansy Parkinson he'd have to deal with at the moment, but the bright-eyed blonde from Ravenclaw who loved drawing attention to cloud formations during Quidditch matches.

"Hello, Draco Malfoy," Loony Lovegood greeted him cheerily.

"Hullo," he replied dully. He began walking up to the main level of the castle, not caring if she followed him or not.

She stayed on his tail the _entire_ time, so closely that he finally turned on her and said, rather agitatedly, "What the hell do you want, Lovegood?"

"Thank you for asking," she said sincerely. "I wanted to ask you about Ginny."

"I have absolutely nothing to say about her," Draco said automatically.

"That's not true. You said it too quickly to mean it."

Damn, that girl was observant. "I don't feel like talking to you. In fact, I don't feel like talking at all. So leave me alone, and go find your Crud…Hoary…whatever."

Luna looked at him pointedly. "You really should talk to someone. And why not me?"

She was being stubborn. Two could play at that game. "I'm not pouring out my guts to you, Lovegood. Deal with it."

"I've heard rumors, of course," Luna went on, ignoring Draco's protests. "But Ginny's assured me they're all lies."

"Of course they are," Draco snapped. "And you'll do well to remember that. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be going to dinner."

"Not so fast, Draco," Luna said in a calm voice, slipping her wand from within her robes. Draco was instantly reminded of a Muggle film he'd once heard of, in which a dummy supposedly came to life. Luna looked like a woman possessed; her eyes were all wide and innocent (not that she'd ever looked any different). She was going to force him into talking. The situation would have been laughable, had he not been at her mercy.

"You're one scary lass, Lovegood," Draco remarked. He said this in a sarcastic tone, but he wondered if his eyes were betraying his building unease.

"All I want," she said cheerily, "is for you to tell me what you've been spreading around about you and Ginny."

"And all I want is for you to go the hell away."

"People make crafty comments when they're in tight spots," Luna sang. "People avoid the subject at hand when they want to hide something."

Draco found himself backing against the wall, and Luna inching closer and closer to him.

"Still nothing, I see," she said after another minute.

"I'm not going to admit to something I didn't do. I don't even know what the hell you're talking about!"

"Admitting that there is a problem is the first step," Luna told him.

"What is this? A bloody session with Healer Lovegood? I'm not staying here for this!"

"Anger management issue…" Luna seemed to be taking a mental note of his 'state'…hell, Lovegood _was_ mental.

"Bloody hell, this witch is certifiable…"

"You're talking to yourself," Luna informed him. "Clearly a sign of either stress or insanity."

"And you talking to yourself isn't the same thing?" Draco considered this for a moment. "Well, I suppose it's normal for _you_…"

"Follow me, Draco Malfoy," Luna said, ignoring his insult. She gestured up the stairs.

"What? Where are you taking me?"

"The library. Don't make me force you."

Draco didn't want to be forced. How would it look, with Luna Lovegood, of all people, leading him around Hogwarts with her wand up his…? And he'd thought the tutoring fiasco had been bad. He didn't imagine things could get much worse.

* * *

Doomed—that's how Ginny was feeling. Once Luna provoked Draco, she was sure the so-called ex-Death Eater would lash out, in some catastrophic way. That naïve, foolish girl!

Luna, as it soon appeared, was coming back. The calm Ravenclaw, Ginny saw as she passed between bookshelves, was not alone, but leading someone along with her.

Draco Malfoy had one of those sneering frowns on his face as Luna prodded him in the back with her wand.

"Hey, watch where you point that thing!"

"I could point it other places, if you'd like." Ten points to Luna Lovegood for her display of Gryffindor-worthy sass.

Malfoy gaped at her in shock. His mouth alternately opened and closed. For the first time in her life, Ginny saw Malfoy speechless. She laughed, unabashed.

"Think it's funny, do you, Weasley?" Malfoy finally said. He turned on Luna. "What makes you think you can talk to me like that?" he demanded.

"Intuition, I suppose," Luna vaguely replied. "Now, Draco Malfoy, please have a seat."

He looked at her as if she were mad. …And, in truth, maybe she was.

"I did say 'please'," Luna reminded him.

Malfoy grunted so like Goyle Ginny would have sworn the gorilla himself was present, and he plopped into a chair farther down the table from the two girls.

Luna seemed satisfied, and then she sat down herself and began.

"So, I have heard the two of you are currently Potions partners," she said.

"Tutor and tutee," Malfoy corrected her. "And we're not anymore."

Luna went on as if she hadn't heard him. "I understand that if Ginny hasn't improved in Potions by next class, she won't be able to take the N.E.W.T. any longer."

"What are we doing, reviewing the facts?" Malfoy complained. "And why would I care, anyway? Whatever happens to her doesn't affect me."

"But it does," said Luna, "because Professor Slughorn appointed you as her tutor. You're supposed to help her."

Malfoy glared haughtily at her. "Lovegood, this isn't any of your business."

Luna considered this for a moment. "I guess you have a point. But I am looking out for my friend's"—she gestured toward Ginny—"best interests, and she needs help."

"Then why don't you help her, if you're her friend?"

"I'm not advanced enough in Potions."

"She can teach herself. This is her own problem, so she can figure it out by herself. She doesn't listen to me, ever, so why _should_ I help her?"

"Because without your help, she will fail."

"And you know this how?"

"She was crying over her Potions textbook when I found her here."

Ginny, who had been observing this heated discussion (at least on Malfoy's side) and not even reminding them that she was _right there_ and being ignored, even though the conversation concerned her, sharply turned her head away. _Crying over her Potions textbook_…why, Luna? Why?That was a piece of information Ginny hadn't wanted to share with anyone, let alone Draco Malfoy, of all people.

* * *

Draco was battling with himself, yet again. And he had no idea why. For some reason, Loony Lovegood mentioning the Weaslette crying had…affected him. He shuddered. Sympathy wasn't in Draco's job description. So, he put all thoughts of that aside.

Loony was challenging him, which was something Draco was finding a little hard to resist. Slytherin ambition made him itch to prove to Lovegood that—HA!—he could do it; he could save the little Weasley from failing N.E.W.T. Potions.

But that would be considered a 'nice' thing. Draco Malfoy simply did not do 'nice' things for people. Not even for his friends. He had always believed it showed weakness in a being, when one had compassion.

His thoughts drifted to the previous summer. He had done something nice, even thoughtful, for Severus Snape, by writing the man's mother and burying his body. Draco vaguely wondered if it even counted as 'nice' when you were carrying out the wishes of the dead. Maybe it did.

But…maybe it didn't.

An idea struck him. He _could_ get something out of this, couldn't he?

"What's in it for me?" he suddenly asked.

Luna answered him. "The feeling of a job well done, of course. And a 'thank you'."

"That's all?"

The Ravenclaw returned his sharp glare, striking him with surprise.

"What if I don't want his help?" spoke a different voice, from the other side of the table. Ginny Weasley was sitting up, observing them attentively.

Luna looked serious as she took Ginny's hand in hers. "You need his help, Ginny." She said this with big, truthful eyes.

Those eyes affected Ginny more than they did Draco. Ginny's gaze flickered to Draco's. She brazenly held her eyes in his for a minute, and finally agreed, "Okay."

"I haven't given _my_ answer yet," Draco huffed importantly. "Weasley's only one side of this, after all."

"Then what do you have to say?" Luna asked him, her manner demanding his accord.

Draco spoke with a hard resolution—he had difficulty in saying his words. "Fine. If she's civil, I'll be civil. That's the problem."

"It shouldn't be a problem any more," Luna sang happily.

"How could you promise a thing like that?" This time it was Ginny challenging Luna.

"Well, I suppose you could take an Unbreakable Vow…"

"No!" Draco and Ginny shouted in unison—a fact that made both of them recoil awkwardly.

"Then, let's make a pact," Luna suggested. "You cooperate with each other."

"Those are the only terms?" Draco wanted to know.

"Unless you can think of anything else."

Draco thought for a few seconds, but then shrugged. It wasn't worth the fuss, was it? Besides, what did he have to lose? His reputation was already down the drain, and the more he considered it, the more appealing the idea of being a loner was. If it meant not dealing with Pansy and the rest of the good-for-nothing Hogwarts student body, he was all for it.

"All right, I'm in."

"Good, then," Luna resolved. "You two really should get to work. I heard from Michael Corner that we're starting a Calming Draught on Monday."

And that was the end of that.


	8. Truce

A/N: This chapter is a sort of transition intot he next few chapters. Sorry for the wait; look at my author profile for details. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Truce**

Ginny watched as Professor Slughorn came around to her cauldron. He peered inside to examine the Calming Draught she'd concocted in the past two hours.

"Hmmm…" was the curious noise he made as he passed on to the next potion—Luna's, brewed in the serene fashion of its maker.

In Ginny's book, "hmmm" sounded pretty good. She found herself turning to the back of the classroom to catch a certain Slytherin's eye, as if to say, 'We did it!'

However, Ginny's euphoric look was met with a cold, hard stare from Malfoy. He seemed unmoved by the turn of events.

She supposed it wouldn't matter to him, whether they had to continue tutoring or not. The mere thought of not having to work with Malfoy anymore sent Ginny's heart beating faster with excitement. That would be wonderful, indeed…

Ginny was brought back to reality as Slughorn stood in front of her and cleared his throat.

"After class, Miss Weasley?"

She nodded in agreement. A few agonizing moments later, her classmates were dismissed, and she was standing in front of Slughorn's desk for judgment.

"I've seen an improvement," the Potions Master began. "I can see you're going in the right direction."

"Yes, Professor, and I think—"

"Nevertheless, I want you to continue tutoring with Mr. Malfoy."

Ginny dropped her jaw incredulously, as if to say, 'What the bloody hell are you smoking? Floo Powder?'

"Miss Weasley, I want so ensure you can handle this on your own."

"I can."

"And you're telling me that you've had no help whatsoever from your tutor, and have improved completely of your own accord?"

"That's not what I mean—"

"As long as you are in my class, you will do as I say. But, if you wish to drop the N.E.W.T.—"

"No, no," Ginny quickly assured him.

"Then you will work with Mr. Malfoy until you are the most promising student in my class."

"How…how could that ever be possible?" Never could she match up to Luna's undeniable skills, or Malfoy's instincts. There was no way.

"It can only happen if you _believe_ it can." With those last words, Slughorn dismissed her for lunch.

As she pushed through the old, wooden dungeon door, she imagined life couldn't get much worse, as she'd be spending an eternity of her free time with her sworn enemy, more time than she'd counted on wasting.

"Well, how'd it go?"

Ginny gasped, caught off guard. She turned and came face-to-face with her smirking Potions tutor.

"Malfoy—you scared me half to death!"

"And look; you're still breathing, aren't you? Enough to yell at me, anyway."

She merely glared at him in a way that her mother would envy. He took too much pride in his unfair jests, really he did.

"Could you at least answer my question?" he scowled, holding his jaw taut.

"Fine. It didn't go well at all."

"That much is obvious. What did Slughorn say?"

"Basically, if I'm not better at potions than you by the end of this year, I'll be doomed to a listless job delivering post at the Ministry."

"They have owls for that."

"Not helping. You DO know what this means, don't you?"

"Do let me in on the secret."

"We have to keep on going with our sessions."

"Since when have you and I been a 'we'?"

"Are you even listening to what I'm saying?"

"Yes, keeping tutoring and…blast it! You're joking!"

"Serious expression," Ginny said, pointing to her face accordingly.

"But you can't—I can't—"

"I know."

"This is an outrage! How can he force the situation? Is Slughorn blind? It's wholly apparent you've increased a hundredfold"—Ginny felt unnerved by Malfoy's compliment…though it could have been a slight to her potion-making skills prior to tutoring—"due to my help." She guessed the latter was correct.

"Apparently I've got to become better than you."

"That'd take a hell of a lot of work."

Ginny opened her mouth to defend herself, but then closed it. Why try, when it would only make matters worse?

Malfoy turned and rested his forehead against the cool stone of the passageway. He finally sighed. "I suppose, if it must be done…I'll keep helping you. I can't afford Slughorn getting me kicked out of Hogwarts, I guess."

His decision wasn't really his to make. He was bound to the tutorship whether he liked it or not. So, Ginny was happy she didn't have to thank him.

* * *

"No, no," Malfoy was saying. "That's the wrong way. If you keep that up, we'll both turn into newts if it explodes."

"Maybe you'd be a better newt than a person," Ginny murmured under her breath.

"What was that?" He raised a platinum blond eyebrow.

"Nothing. Now, do I need to let _you_ stir the potion, else you should blow a gasket?"

Malfoy harrumphed, hastily grabbing the ladle from Ginny's hands. Ginny felt a tingle when his fingers brushed hers, but she shook herself almost immediately back to sanity. All she had to do was focus; the session would go by faster and less painfully if she did.

"As I've said, time and time again, you need to learn discipline to succeed in the art of potion-making."

Ginny rolled her eyes before deciding to ask, "Why do you _call_ it that?"

"Call what a what?"

"Potion-making. An art. Isn't it more of a science?"

"To some, yes. Traditionally, it is very scientific. But to truly succeed as a potions maker, one must be able to think outside the box, and find ways to be creative while still following the rules."

"That's too complicated."

"And that is why you fail."

Ginger eyebrows furrowed angrily, and brown orbs came right up to him, staring into his gray ones. "Take. That. Back."

Draco rolled his own eyes. "Well, if you're intending to murder me… I do value my life, so I 'take it back'."

Ginny backed down and continued chopping the fluxweed. "Good."

"What I really meant was that, if you want to 'surpass me' like Slughorn said, you're going to have to find your own ways to do things."

"Of course."

"And I'll back away and let you blow yourself up…if that should so happen."

She inhaled a sharp breath. "Naturally."

Draco could see she was trying to keep her cool and not lose her temper. It was quite amusing—_too_ amusing, actually. And for some reason unbeknownst to him, he decided to have some more fun with her, for a change.

"I don't believe it's time for the beetles yet." Her hand paused over the pile of beetles on the table.

"What did you say?" Her voice came sharply; he had pressed exactly the right button. He did know, however, that she _had_ heard him, and quite clearly.

"It's not time yet."

"Yes, it is. I'm sure of it!"

"Then prove it, Weasley."

"Fine," she said, stalking off to her textbook, which was lying on the other end of the table. She turned one page and ran her index finger down the lines until she found what she was looking for.

"Let boil full-blast for five minutes…add eye of newt…rinse and dry scarab beetles, add one at a time." She set her mouth into a hard line and glared at him. "I _was_ right, you awful little liar!" She advanced on him and jabbed him in the chest.

He smirked, unmoved by her hostility. "Let this be a lesson of caution. Always double—nay, triple—check the directions."

She was still fuming after his explanation. "Of course," she began sarcastically, "and you just _had_ to bring up such a sore subject."

He looked at her innocently. "Whatever do you mean?"

A shriek emitted from her, keen and incisive. "The scarab beetles!" she screeched, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Oh, right," Draco feigned remembering. She knew he'd known all along, of course.

"Didn't Luna warn you? You're not to cross me like that."

"She did, and if I'm recalling correctly, she didn't mean for you to cross me, either."

Draco suddenly noticed how close he and the youngest Weasley were standing to each other. The mere proximity was enough to send him into shock. He couldn't help but notice how sweetly she smelled…of freesia, or the like.

Forget shock—the aroma was intoxicating him. She didn't say anything to snap back at him, but only stared at him as if in a trance.

He had to move, or something; this was nonsensical! He forced himself to pull away from her enticing smell, though—dare he think it!—doing so tortured him.

"Well, this is a truce," he said after clearing his throat. He then plopped one scarab beetle into the boiling cauldron. "We'd better start acting like it."

Ginny gaped at him, speechless. Today was full of surprises—she certainly hadn't expected to feel overpowered by Malfoy. She hated him!

But…why did he have to smell so bloody _good_? Merlin knew the answer to _that_ question. And Ginny hated Malfoy all the more for it.

The two went about the rest of the session in almost complete silence.


	9. Kindness

**Chapter Nine: Kindness**

The November Saturday was a rainy one—the perfect time to brew a potion, in Draco's opinion. He and Ginny had begun the Aging Potion the day before, but that one took three days to complete.

Ginny was chopping the fluxweed, while Draco stirred the potion. He spoke without looking up at her.

"I've never understood this, but…" He trailed off, thinking better of what he was saying.

"What?" Her curiosity was piqued.

"Well," he began again, "I always wondered why exactly you want to continue taking Potions. Gryffindors usually hate the class, as a rule. Potter and your brother did, anyway."

Ginny grimaced as Draco brought Harry up. She'd been doing her absolute best not to think of him, but it was one of the hardest things she had ever done. She didn't know where in the world he was, and he didn't seem to care about her anxiety for him. Pushing aside these frustrations, she finally answered.

"I want to be a Healer," she confessed, turning slightly pink. She hadn't confided this in many people, and felt self-conscious about her choice.

Draco raised his eyebrows, surprised. "A Healer? That's quite a noble profession."

"What, like I'm not capable?" she tested him.

"No, it's a great thing, and seems it would be a good choice, for you."

"For me?"

"Well, you and your lot generally, for some unbeknownst reason, like helping others more than helping yourselves. My family, however, are concerned with serving of the self."

"But you are?"

"I suppose I'm the same by association."

"I always took you as a selfish being."

Draco shrugged. "If the shoe fits."

"You don't even care if people judge you from—?"

"Let's not get into this," he suggested. "It's only going to make us break our truce."

Ginny remained silent for awhile, absentmindedly organizing the fluxweed into little columns.

"What about you?"

"Pardon?"

"What do you want to do after you get out of Hogwarts?"

"Oh." No one had ever asked him that question before, not even his parents. His father simply expected Draco to follow in his footsteps, with no real occupation with the exception of servant to the Dark Lord. "I don't know. I used to think I would be of no profession."

"Like your father. You'll inherit his estate, and money?"

"I'm not too sure about _that_ anymore, but in theory, yes."

"Wait a minute—why wouldn't you—?"

"It's a long story, and one I'll keep to myself."

Ginny eyed him cautiously. "All right…but what would you choose, for yourself?"

Draco wouldn't look at her as he confessed his own ambition. "I've wanted, for a long time, to own an apothecary, in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley."

"Wow," was all Ginny had to say of this news. "I wouldn't have expected…"

"I know. No one would, and Mother and Father wouldn't support it."

"Couldn't you work toward it yourself?"

"I don't enjoy working, much."

"You'd have to—"

"Ah," Draco suddenly gasped, gripping his forearm as if something were stinging him. He dropped the ladle into the cauldron.

Ginny approached him cautiously, as he unbuttoned the right sleeve cuff of his school shirt. "What's wrong with—?"

She drew closer to him and watched in horror as he revealed the Dark Mark on his arm.

"You have it," she said abruptly. Draco looked up at her. "I wasn't sure," she offered in explanation.

"Well, I do," he replied pointlessly. He began to blow on the Mark to ease the burning pain.

"No," she told him, shaking her head. "That won't work."

"Then what do you suggest, O All-Knowing?"

She conjured a pack of ice with her wand and handed it to him. "This is better. Go on, try it," she encouraged him.

He took the ice begrudgingly and set it on his outstretched arm. "Well, seeing as I'm impeded, would you mind stirring the potion?" he said in an annoyed tone.

It took some self-restraint for Ginny not to lash out at him. "Sure," she agreed, rolling her eyes.

"It's two stirs clock-wise, and five counter clockwise, at an interval of twenty seconds," he informed her.

"Okay."

"Don't forget to add some beetles in after seven intervals—four of them."

"I think I can read a potions textbook," Ginny said, irritated.

"And—"

"Merlin, what _now_?"

"I was just going to say thanks," he muttered. "The ice is working."

For the first time in quite a long time, Ginny smiled to herself, as she turned her back on Draco. She'd actually gotten a grateful word from him; it was rare that she should teach _him_ something. And whenever he was nice, it seemed his humor and comments were almost—dare she think it!—fun to listen to.

* * *

On Monday, Professor Slughorn called Draco and Ginny to hang back after the class was dismissed. When they came before his desk, the Potions Master was grinning from ear to ear.

"You have impressed me beyond my wildest imaginations, Miss Weasley," Professor Slughorn confessed. "Never before have I seen such a drastic improvement in one of my pupils."

Draco smirked to himself from the side. _You mean one of my pupils, Sluggy Old Pal._ After all, only under Draco's tutelage had Ginny been able to flourish as a potions-maker. Without his help and expertise, she would have failed the course and dropped out. Where was his due?

"Mr. Malfoy, I owe you much credit for this. Your teaching has affected Miss Weasley's skills in a positive, undeniably drastic way. I'm awarding thirty points to Slytherin for your trouble and hard work!"

It was the truth; they had worked their arses off, in Draco's opinion. He had forced himself to teach as patiently as he could, and Ginny had been compelled to learn whatever she could. Otherwise, Ginny wouldn't have been able to follow her dream of becoming a Healer. Draco took some pride in the fact he'd helped her along the way toward such an impossible ambition.

Professor Slughorn leaned closer to Ginny. "And Miss Weasley, I was wondering how you thought to add a pinch of mint to today's brew. It really gave the Babbling Beverage something extra, wouldn't you say, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco cleared his throat. "Er, yes sir." It was news to him about the mint, and he found himself impressed by Ginny's unexpected ingenuity.

"Well," Slughorn sighed happily, "I dismiss you of your tutorship."

Ginny gasped, and Draco raised his eyebrows a good inch and a half. Ending the tutorship?

"But Professor," Ginny said, "I thought you wanted to continue—"

"—Until the student surpassed the tutor. In a way, you have. And I expect you to continue to show excellence in your work, Miss Weasley, or I'll be forced to withdraw my confidence in you."

* * *

Ginny and Draco walked down the dungeon corridor in silence. Neither of them believed what had just happened.

It seemed just last week that Slughorn had thrown them together for tutoring, and now…Ginny wasn't so sure she wanted it to end. They were only _just_ starting to identify with one another, to put aside many of their past prejudices and animosities.

And Professor Slughorn had put an end to the developing relationship. After all, Potions was the only reason they'd communicated in the first place. Now that the tutorship was over, so was anything the two could possibly have in common.

Their last session had actually been a pleasant experience, with Draco acting—again, dare she think it!—kind. _That_ was something that had taken a few months to finally happen, and …well…she was beginning to like it. But that chapter of their lives, it seemed, was over.

"Well, I guess we won't be working together anymore," said Ginny, hardly accepting it as true.

"Yeah," Draco agreed, looking at his feet as they ambled down the dimly lit hallway.

"Erm…thanks. For tutoring me, I mean," she said quickly, not knowing what the right thing to say was, exactly.

"Rubbish!" Draco exclaimed. "It was either help you, or get kicked out the N.E.W.T. class, so I had no choice, really."

"Oh, right." They came to the top of the stair, into the much-brighter entrance hall. "I suppose I'll…see you around, then?"

He stared at her curiously. "Sure. Bye." He turned around and walked away, and Ginny vaguely wondered if by those parting words he meant to avoid her forever.

Draco had to fight the urge to look back at Ginny. Looking back over his shoulder would only serve to reveal his developing…what was it? He shuddered internally to think he might be growing a…fondness…for a _Weasley_. He convinced himself that he and little Ginny Weasley would have nothing to do with each other from then on. He would stay far away from the girl and mind his own business; it was as simple as that.

Ginny rounded the corner, into the Great Hall for dinner, and leaned against the wall. She hugged her books to her chest, a part of her feeling like it was missing. Shaking her head, she continued the walk to Gryffindor table.

No, she assured herself. She was complete in and of herself. Ginny Weasley didn't need anything or anyone to help her, or save her.

How very wrong she was.


	10. Salvation

**Chapter Ten: Salvation**

Ginny begrudgingly rolled out of bed at the break of dawn, just as she'd been doing every Wednesday for the past two and a half months. Defense Against the Dark Arts would begin on the Quidditch field in an hour's time, every year, first through seventh, included.

She walked toward the window, and found herself immediately blinded by the sun. It was a beautiful day, but she would be half-asleep throughout it.

Bending over to retrieve her broom from her trunk, a strange pang of an unidentified emotion arose in her, just as she caught sight of her Potions textbook lying atop an old set of robes. Nowadays, every time she saw the thing she would think of Draco Malfoy and their time together, almost as if, deep down, she missed it.

She always forced a laugh at herself when she'd catch her mind thinking such silly thoughts. It was safe to say that Malfoy didn't miss their tutoring, so she tried to lay her thoughts to rest.

--

Draco had awoken up well before dawn from a dream about Ginny Weasley, of all girls. He was not able to brush thoughts of his and Ginny's Potions sessions from his mind, and so his subconscious reminded him of it in his sleep. He grew very angry, berating himself for even deigning to think of her. He had no reason to, hadn't ever, not even when they _were_ tutoring—and certainly not now that the only time he ever saw her was in Potions class, and the odd passing in the corridors.

Nearly every time he saw her, she was being cornered by Michael Corner. The pun made Draco sick. Couldn't the Ravenclaw bastard find a more private place for a snog? Not that the youngest Weasley had allowed Corner to kiss her. This puzzled Draco immensely, because he often thought Ginny needed a proper snog, for she always looked quite depressed about something. _Probably pining away for Potter._

He was doing it again—analyzing Weasley's behavior. He considered her too often, and had much too hostile urges toward Michael Corner than any indifferent observer should have. He'd never talked to Corner in his life, and actually thought him a pretty decent Quidditch player at that.

--

Ginny now yawned as Professor McGonagall called out partners for the broom exercise, for the Gryffindors. It had been determined that combining Houses for Defense lessons was a highly dangerous idea, as more than half the Hospital Wing had been filled after the first class of the term.

Neville grimaced when he was paired with Demelza Robins, as she was much better on a broomstick than he. Ginny chuckled to herself, until…

"Weasley and Creevey," Professor McGonagall called out.

Colin smiled as he hoisted his school-borrowed broom over his shoulder and joined Ginny. It wasn't that Ginny didn't like Colin; he was very amiable. But he had very recently decided to ask Ginny to spend the next Hogsmeade weekend with him. She hoped he wasn't turning into another Michael Corner, who had persistently been trying to catch her alone after Potions, in the dim dungeon corridor. Ginny had been careful not to give Colin a direct answer yet, afraid to hurt his feelings, but putting it off to the last second possible.

He looked optimistic as they walked together down the pitch. _Probably picturing us as an item,_ Ginny thought. She was fond of Colin--he was always kind to her. Their relationship was similar to her and Neville's in that respect. She almost considered agreeing to go to Hogsmeade, on the condition of friends, in the attempt to get Michael to lay off. But then Colin moved closer and put a possessive arm around her shoulders.

Ginny inwardly cringed. She had made too much of a reputation for herself. Now all the boys thought they could have her.

--

Draco inwardly cringed when Professor Slughorn announced that he and Pansy would be dueling partners for the lesson that day. He sped off on his Nimbus 2001, half-hoping he'd be too fast for Pansy, could hide out within the stands for the entire class, and she wouldn't even miss him. But fortune had something different in store for him.

"So," Pansy began, keeping up her pace fairly well with Draco as he made his way toward the opposite end of the Quidditch field. "How _are_ you holding up?"

"What do you mean?" Draco's voice was bored. He couldn't even pretend to be mildly interested in what Pansy had to say.

"What I mean is," Pansy smirked, curling her lip upward, "you've seemed quite distraught since you finished tutoring with the Weaslette."

"That's ridiculous," Draco scoffed. "I'm glad it's over."

"Are you? Because you're avoiding my questions like the black plague," Pansy noted.

"Aren't we supposed to be throwing curses at each other, or something?"

Pansy's smirk widened. "I prove my point."

"Drop it, Parkinson," he snapped coldly. He'd had enough of her sly comments for one broom ride; his patience was gone.

"Ouch," she said mockingly. "You _do_ need her in your life again, before you go completely hard-hearted. Honestly, I think you should be ashamed of such a thing. It's utterly pathetic."

"I mean it, shut up," he warned her, his grey eyes flashing with his mounting anger.

"Or what? Weasel-girl will come and get me? Please I'm not a Mud—bloody hell!"

Pansy was thrown back a few yards through the air and spun around, hit by a nonverbal curse. Draco lowered his wand.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he said, his face serious.

Pansy lunged forward to fight back. "Oh, you've got it coming! _Expelliarmus!_"

Professor Flitwick passed them at that moment. "Very good work, Miss Parkinson. Five points to Slytherin!" he squeaked, pleased at her progress.

Once the professor had passed, Pansy cast a dark look at his tiny backside.

"A measly five points. Like I care anymore about the House Cup! As if we're using this practice for our _defense_," she muttered so that only Draco could hear.

"You're going to join the Death Eaters?" Draco asked her, his tone urgent.

Pansy shrugged noncommittally. "Well, you did, didn't you?"

Draco could hardly believe how lightly she was taking her own words. His gaze flickered down to his clothed forearm, which was slightly stinging at the moment. "Yeah, I did," he replied quietly.

"And you're an example to us all," Pansy said in admiration, though she was still angry with him. "After all, your father and You-Know-Who were like _this_." She crossed her fingers in indication.

He didn't say anything for awhile. "Just promise me…you'll give it a great deal of thought, won't you? Before you decide for sure joining his ranks is what you want?"

Pansy raised her eyebrow at him. "Why?"

"It's not easy, going up before _him_."

She gasped. "You mean to say, you've seen _him_ face-to-face?" She seemed impressed.

He nodded slowly, uncomfortable under Pansy's awed expression. "He knows when you're lying."

"You lied to him?" she gulped.

"I didn't dare, or else he would have—" Draco couldn't finish his sentence.

She gasped for the second time. "The…Cruciatus Curse?"

"That's the consequence for not telling the truth," he told her, his voice shaking a little. Though it hurt to tell her these things, he was glad they were frightening her. Maybe then, another life would be spared from the casualties of the war. Pansy had always been a rather annoying hanger-on, but that wasn't to say Draco didn't care the slightest bit what happened to her.

Across the field of dead grass, he saw the figures of Ginny and her partner…was it that little sixth-year fellow, with the camera? An unadulterated wave of jealousy passed through Draco. That Creevey git, with his arm around Ginny! How could she even allow--?

Draco shook it off. No, no, no…not happening. Michael Corner was one thing, but Creevey? He shouldn't be feeling these towards of emotions toward any of that lot, including the Weasley girl in question.

He turned to Pansy, who had noticed his flash of hatred toward the Gryffindor duo, and threw a Jelly-Legs Jinx at her to get his head in the game.

--

"_Stupefy!"_

"_Tarantellegra!"_

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

Ginny and Colin had finally mounted their broomsticks and were firing curses at each other. She dodged his last one with ease--he was somewhat out of practice with his aim. Sending a Bat-Bogey Hex over her shoulder, she headed for the topmost stand around the field, figuring Colin wouldn't follow her. She simply felt she needed a minute to herself.

She looked back, and the hex--her best one!--had not struck him. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment as Colin continued to follow her, up and up. It occurred to her that having her back to her opponent wasn't the best idea. She began to fly backwards instead.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ she cast, and finally Colin's wand flew from his hand.

Ginny pulled into a daring dive to catch it, and then something happened that had never happened before: the handle of her broom hit the Quidditch stand barrier. She toppled forward, disconnected from her broom. Her own wand flew from her hand, not that she knew a spell to fix everything.

She was falling, the ground rapidly approaching.

--

Draco sent a Stunning spell to Pansy, and it hit her in the shoulder. She shook it out, as if it had fallen asleep. "Can't we take a break?" she pouted.

He conceded, and was about to descend to the nearest row of seats, when he saw a brilliant flash of red from the spot where Ginny and Colin had been practicing. He squinted in the late morning sun and, to his horror, saw a limp, redheaded body plummeting from the highest of the stands.

Without pausing, without yelling, but only thinking "not her", he raced against time and velocity. He needed to save her, he did not know why.

He sped toward her, arms outstretched. It was mere seconds before she would have hit the ground.

He caught her. The force made his broom descend another ten feet before he could steady it again. The wind was knocked out of him; he gasped for air.

--

Ginny's eyes closed as she lost consciousness, but before she blacked out completely, she saw a brief streak of white-blonde out of the corner of her eyes. Something caught her, something solid and surprisingly warm, though she knew it was too soon to have hit the ground.

Calm washed over her. She was safe, floating slowly downward, as if on a cloud.

--

Once Draco caught his breath, he managed to touch the ground gently, still carrying Ginny's seemingly lifeless form in his arms. Crowds swarmed around him; he fell to his knees.

"Somebody get Madam Pomfrey!" yelled Neville Longbottom, rushing forward to help support Ginny's head. Colin Creevey sprinted off, guilt on his usually innocent face.

Even Luna Lovegood appeared shocked at the situation, and Pansy's expression was a blend of glowering and curiosity, as if she didn't know what to think of everything.

Nobody was paying much attention to Draco, who soon collapsed beside Ginny and let exhaustion overtake him.


	11. Gratitude

**Chapter 11: Gratitude**

Ginny stirred, feeling as if she'd been hit by a ton of bricks and was just discovering how sore it had made her. She opened one reluctant eye and was shocked to find a pale, blonde boy dozing in the chair beside her bed. Her voice was groggy, but loud enough to arouse him.

"Malfoy, why are _you_ here?"

Draco jumped out of his seat faster than one could say 'Quidditch'.

"You—you're awake!"

"Erm, yes, obviously."

She waited for him to respond, but he didn't say anything.

"Well, I asked a question. What are you doing here?"

"_Cranky_…just waiting to see if you woke up."

It seemed quite strange though, to her, that Draco Malfoy would be the person beside her bed when she woke up. "How long have I been out?"

"A day and a half, nearly. Madam Pomfrey had to keep you under for awhile to mend your--"

"--_Mr. Malfoy_, I believe I asked you to alert me when Miss Weasley finally awoke!" Speak of the devil, Madam Pomfrey had come from her office to see Ginny.

"Sorry, Madam. I'll just be going, then," he said quickly, rising from his chair.

"You're leaving?" Were his ears deceiving him, or had she sounded disappointed at his announcement?

"Well, er, yes."

Madam Pomfrey stuck a thermometer into Ginny's mouth, but Ginny spoke around it. "But I just woke up."

"I know." Obviously. "I have some homework to catch up on," he explained.

"Oh, well, all right." She focused instead on her folded hands.

He nodded and turned to leave. He had taken five steps toward the infirmary doors when her weak voice called back to him.

"Are you going to come again, later?"

Draco's mouth twitched into a smile and back again so quickly she wondered whether she had imagined it. "If you'd like me to."

Ginny furrowed her eyebrows while she considered. "I would," was her reply of consent.

Her eyes followed his figure as he finally left. Madam Pomfrey took the thermometer from Ginny's mouth.

"Normal." She grabbed a frothing potion from the bedside table. "There; that should help the pain."

Ginny sipped the concoction and shivered to the bone. "Freezing," she said, her teeth chattering. "Why does it hurt this much?"

"You fell more than a hundred feet, Miss Weasley. I do believe that's the greatest altitude fallen out of all your brothers, except perhaps for Fred's fall during his first-ever Quidditch game. Took a Bludger to the head, he did. George accidentally hit it."

Ginny almost smiled at the notion, but persisted in her inquiries. "Then how am I…" She switched to a whisper. "How am I still alive?"

"But you don't know?"

"No."

The nurse sat in Malfoy's vacant chair. "Well…it was a miracle he got to you in time…"

"Who did?"

"Why, Mr. Malfoy, of course!"

_Malfoy_ had saved her? The words didn't sound right together. She couldn't speak for a moment.

"And," Madam Pomfrey continued, "he's been keeping a steady vigil over you. Miss Lovegood, Mr. Longbottom, and several others have stopped by, but he's been here the whole while, ever since he himself was mended. Your mother sent an owl, but unfortunately she and your father are tied up with other things right now and can't come to Hogwarts… Oh, and I nearly forgot: Mr. Creevey left you these"--she gestured toward a vase of gardenias sitting on the bedside table--"and his sincerest apologies. I assume he'll return later on."

All of this information was a lot to take in. Her inner devil's advocate was trying to convince her that Malfoy was a horrible soul and had only saved her by mere chance. However, she knew, somewhere inside of her, that such an assumption wasn't true.

For the meantime, Madam Pomfrey left her. Ginny perused her mother's owl, which explained that the Order of the Phoenix was requiring the entire Weasley family's assistance on a matter that couldn't be discussed through the post, but they knew Ginny would be well taken care of in Madam Pomfrey's hands.

She pondered a short while on what this could mean, also wishing that Neville or Luna would come to visit, but remembering that they had class. Colin Creevey soon showed up, proclaiming the most heartfelt apology Ginny had ever witnessed. He was to the point of tears, practically, before she finally got it through his thick skull that, not to worry, all was forgiven. She did wonder, though, whether he was truly so emotional, and not just trying to win her affections through the series of events.

Colin had only just vanished at the corner for dinner when Malfoy rounded it, satchel across his chest and looking much more polished now that he'd been given time to tidy himself up.

Ginny's face instantly brightened at the sight of him, but she extinguished the light just as quickly. What would people think if she looked so joyous when he arrived? It was _Malfoy_, wasn't it? But then…

He had saved her life, and so at that moment she was as happy with him as one could be with one's sworn enemy.

Malfoy seemed cheerful enough, though he didn't smile, when he got to her, slinging his satchel off and taking a seat beside her. Though the circumstances were prime for talking quietly among themselves, as they were alone at the far end of the wing, neither could seem to form a coherent sentence.

It was a full two minutes later that Malfoy inquired, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, quite…fine," she answered, in actuality feeling "quite" pathetic. But she didn't voice this, of course.

There was another uncomfortable pause.

"Did you want--?" Malfoy began to ask. He was going to offer to collect her homework.

But Ginny spoke at the same time. "Why didn't you--?"

Both stopped abruptly, and Ginny's complexion visibly grew pink. It was much too awkward to speak with him, now that she knew the truth.

Malfoy smiled very slightly. "You were saying?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you're the one who caught me when I fell!"

"Oh, that." Malfoy scratched at his invisibly blonde sideburn. "It's not that big a deal…"

Ginny simply looked at him incredulously.

"I just don't want everyone to make a fuss about it," he explained. Draco still didn't know what had come over him, saving a Weasley! What had possessed him to do something so foolhardy, and utterly ridiculous? Those were, of course, Pansy's exact words once she caught him alone on his way to the common room earlier that afternoon. Perhaps he knew what, and was having trouble coming to terms with it… Yes, some part of him, maybe his subconscious, had cared whether Ginny died. But he wouldn't admit it.

"Even me?"

"Especially you. I wasn't really thinking when I flew over to catch you."

"Well, your instincts must have kicked in--"

"I don't have instincts which would prod me to save Gryffindors from death."

"You're telling me you don't have any inclination to save life at its seeming end." Her voice was skeptical.

"No."

"Maybe you do underneath, and you're just not realizing it."

"I do not!"

"Do, too."

Malfoy shook his head in exasperation. "This is a ridiculous conversation. Believe what you will."

"I believe you might care about me dying." She felt bold saying it, but it was in her gut, and her gut never lied to her.

He stared angrily at her, unblinking. "What would give you that idea--?"

"You've been here to watch over me the past day and a half, till I woke up."

"I suppose Pomfrey blabbed that to you as well. Figures."

Ginny went on as if he hadn't said anything, her face serious. "I wanted…to thank you."

"Oh, don't--"

"Shut up for once, will you?" Her gaze was violent, and so he hushed. "I think it means a lot to my family that you saved my life, and, in truth…it means a lot to me. So, thanks, Malfoy. I appreciate it."

Draco held her eyes in silence for several moments. She'd never noticed how icy his grey eyes were, compared to her warm brown ones. The contrast was startling.

Before he broke away, his low voice came in a whisper.

"You're welcome."


	12. Friendship

A/N: A great number of readers have been itching to see some kissing in this fan fiction, and soon. Please keep in mind that I'm trying to make this unlikely couple as canonically compliant as it can be given post-HBP, pre-DH canon, and that it's going to take time for two people so deeply set against each other to act on their non-platonic impulses. If that makes any sense. Just exercise patience, my readers--I'll give you what you want when the time is ripe.

Your loving author,

Christine

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Friendship**

"Are you sure, Ginny?" Colin persisted, following the youngest Weasley through the Fat Lady's portrait hole the day after she had awoken in the Hospital Wing.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yes, Colin, I'm sure."

"Really, though?"

"I don't need you to take me to Hogsmeade to make up for something I've completely forgiven you for, something you didn't even _do_," Ginny assured him. "It was a freak accident. Thanks for carrying my books."

Colin hesitated, not relinquishing Ginny's satchel bag. "But I'd like to take you."

"So would Michael," she muttered under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Listen, Colin, I'm not even going to Hogsmeade tomorrow. Do you realize I've missed _three_ full days of N.E.W.T. classes now? I have a lot to catch up on, and I'm hoping this weekend will be enough. Please let it go."

He exhaled somewhat sadly and handed over her bag, not uttering another retort. Ginny was grateful, of course, but she was a generally independent being.

Neville greeted her with a friendly hug. Colin witnessed this and moodily sulked up the boys' dormitory stairs.

"Believe it or not," Ginny said to Neville, "I think Colin Creevey is jealous of you."

"That's not possible," said Neville. "I mean, look at me."

Ginny gave him a once-over, pretending to take him literally. "Any girl would be lucky to have you. You care, Neville, and that's worth a lot."

Neville flushed genially, and motioned for them to sit down. "I'm hoping you're right…but enough about Creevey. How are you holding up?"

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I wish people would stop asking me. I'm not that fragile, you know!"

"That isn't entirely what I wanted to talk to you about," said Neville, keeping his voice low. "I know Madam Pomfrey wouldn't discharge you without curing you thoroughly."

"Then what?"

"It's…Malfoy."

"You're starting to sound like Harry. Well, what about him?"

"I want you to know that his being around you hasn't escaped my notice, or that of anyone else. What gives? Don't I deserve to know why he was sitting there, next to your bed, every time Luna and I went to visit you?"

"He saved me, Neville."

"For reasons unknown."

"But the fact remains he did."

"I still don't trust him, Ginny."

"Because he's in Slytherin?"

Neville bit back his intended next words. "Don't pretend as if that wouldn't matter in my judgment. I know he was your Potions tutor--"

"Still might be, if I can't catch up on the days I missed."

"--it simply doesn't change anything. It's got to be false; he has some…ulterior motive--"

"--or not. Wouldn't I be the first person currently at this school to distrust Malfoy? I still don't know if I trust him, and I know I'm mad for saying it, but I think he might feel some sort of…remorse for all the things he did last year."

Neville scoffed, gaping at Ginny. "You're suggesting that Malfoy--_Draco Malfoy_--is trying to be a _good_ person?!"

"No, not exactly. All I know is, he did save my life, and…that's got to count for something. I think, anyway."

Neville shook his head, not taking a word of Ginny's seriously. "Maybe that bump to your head messed something around up there."

"Oh, thanks." Ginny rolled her eyes.

They were then interrupted by a gasp from the girls' dormitory stairwell.

"Ginny! You've recovered!" a high-pitched voice squeaked, and none other than Romilda Vane bounced to the only two other Gryffindors in the room.

"Well, I'll be getting to bed, then," Neville said abruptly. Ginny gaped after him, very put out with the fact he'd left her alone with the impertinent fifth-year who had tried to steal Harry from her last year.

"How are you faring?" Romilda asked Ginny conspiratorially. "You did take quite a fall, didn't you?"

"Yes, about ten stories," Ginny answered with a bored tone.

"You make it sound like nothing happened!"

"I wish nothing _had_ happened." Not entirely true, but nevertheless.

"I've been thinking about what you said. About…Colin," Romilda began slowly.

"And?"

"Oh, Ginny, would you help me out? If you could just mention to him the weekend coming up, and ask if he's going with anyone--"

"--I don't think he would take it as me asking for a friend, Romilda. I don't want Colin to get the wrong idea."

"But you talk to him, and he doesn't know I exist!" Romilda held her head in her hands, and Ginny spotted tears welling up in them.

"No! Don't cry, Romilda, please, no boy you could ever like is worth crying over," Ginny attempted to console her.

"How would you know? I bet you've never cried over a boy. All the boys like you!" Romilda wailed, causing Ginny to fear they would wake the first-years with all their carrying on.

"That's not true," Ginny denied, placing a warm hand on Romilda's shoulder, thinking of Harry, who had left her in tears last summer. If Harry didn't like her anymore, a fact which she was beginning to come to terms with, then Romilda's words certainly weren't ringing true. "I'll talk to Colin, all right? Just stop crying, will you?"

Romilda sniffed again and nodded. "Thank you, Ginny."

"Now go on up to bed, and he'll ask you in the morning if you want to go to Hogsmeade."

The sobbing girl threw her arms around Ginny and then ran up the staircase to her dorm.

Ginny sat a moment pensively before abruptly changing the common room's now-peaceful atmosphere.

"_Accio Colin Creevey!"_

Colin came tumbling down the boys' staircase within seconds. Ginny guided her wand so that he would land on the softest couch in the common room--the last thing she wanted was trouble with McGonagall over injuring one of her housemates.

After Colin landed, he gazed up at Ginny roguishly. "I suppose you're not playing hard to get anymore?"

Ginny rolled her eyes in disgust. "You know, Colin, for a really nice classmate who used to spend more time taking pictures than asking me out, you're turning into a terrible sleaze."

Colin turned his head downward in an instance of shame. But soon he recovered.

"Well, if you aren't going to have your way with me while no one's watching, what could you possibly have Summoned me for?"

"If you're still interested in owing me a favor…"

"Yes, anything!"

"…then you'll ask Romilda Vane to accompany you to Hogsmeade this weekend."

"Whoa, no, anything but that! The girl's a lunatic. Did you see the stunts she tried to pull on Harry last year?"

Ginny grimaced in remembrance. "Of course I do, Colin, but she's changed for the better."

Colin appeared to remain unconvinced. "What's in it for me?"

"She's been bugging me about you all year"--it was an exaggeration, she supposed--"and she'll stop bugging me if you actually ask her."

"All year, eh?" Colin looked rather proud of himself. "Those Wizard multivitamins must be doing something for me--"

"--No mental images, Colin. And I guess you'll be saving my skin if you ask her."

"And then we'll be even?"

"We were never indebted to each other in any way, but if it makes you happier…"

"Oh, I know something that would make me happy. Very happy."

"I'm not going to shag you, Colin."

"Merlin, I just wanted a kiss! But if you insist--"

"_Reducto!"_

Colin went flying back from whence he came. Ginny lowered her wand with not the first heavy sigh of the evening. As she ascended the girls' staircase, she wondered how long she would need to wash out her ears to rid them of all Colin's dirty notions.

* * *

Ginny rounded the corner outside the Room of Requirement and ran right into another student. Both stumbled, but Ginny caught herself with her hands before hitting the ground, but the other's books fell from his arms and scattered all over the corridor floor.

"Watch where you're going!" the other's voice said importantly.

Ginny picked herself up to her full five feet and two inches stance and found a head of platinum blonde hair in front of her. Malfoy gathered his books, not noticing, she figured, whom he had run into.

"Go, get on," he said over his shoulder, "before I decide to hex you into oblivion. What are you, a simple Hufflepuff? They must be thicker than I usually give them credit for…" he muttered, mostly to himself.

"Nope, I'm just a lone Gryffindor aimlessly wandering the corridors, I'm afraid," Ginny said scathingly. "Sorry to disappoint."

Malfoy finally turned around in astonishment. "Oh, it's you, Weasley. I thought you'd be down at Hogsmeade with the rest of your motley crew."

"Too much work to catch up on," she reminded him, ignoring his somewhat spiteful jibe.

"That's a pity, really," Malfoy noted. "It's such a great chance to get the holiday shopping done."

"I notice you're not joining in the fun, either, Malfoy."

"Nothing gets past you Gryffindors, does it?"

"Funny. How quick to resort to your old established ways. Aren't we past the hostility, now?"

"I suppose, Weasley, as we managed to get through an entire hour of nearly passable peace in the Hospital Wing."

"Not to mention our truce."

"That may've culminated along with tutoring."

"Well, do not shelve your copy of Advanced Potion-Making just yet. I think I need you to explain Golpalott's Fourth Law to me…and I could use some help with healing elixirs."

Draco sighed. "It's his _Third_ Law…so it's back to the drawing board, then? I thought Slughorn said the 'student surpassed the tutor' or some rubbish along those lines."

"Technically you're under no obligation to help me, since Slughorn isn't breathing down your neck…but are you busy right now?"

"Er, I was going to study in…" He gestured to the Room of Requirement.

"There? I thought you would prefer the dungeons."

"Sometimes I like it warm. Besides, the dungeons are the worst in the winter."

"Hmmm…well, will you help me?"

"And what's in it for me?"

"You won't be spending the day alone, and neither will I."

Draco nodded his assent, pretending to be reluctant. He liked his loneliness sometimes, but in the Slytherins' cold dungeon common room, it got old fast.

The Room of Requirement opened up to them a sitting area with a few tables, upon which they dumped their books. Draco was pleased with the product and turned a few leafs of his advanced Arithmancy book to the prescribed homework. Ginny did the same, but with her Charms text.

After a few silent moments, Draco asked the question he had been mulling over.

"So, why is it really that you've optioned out of this Hogsmeade weekend? I'd imagine you would want to get out of the castle after having been cooped up in the Hospital Wing for several days."

"You're prodding, Malfoy."

"I'm just a bit curious, is all."

"Right…well, it's sort of personal."

Draco shrugged noncommittally.

"I do take my personal matters very seriously, thank you, and I don't divulge all my secrets to random people whom I bump into throughout the halls." This was not entirely true, she realized, remembering her diary from her first year.

"Never mind, then," Draco huffed. "Don't be so touchy."

Ginny hesitated. She really did need to tell somebody about her quandaries with Michael and Colin, even if that person didn't really care one way or the other. Perhaps it _was_ best to speak with someone unbiased. "But if you must know…"

"Oh, coming round, are we?" Draco teased her, for reasons unbeknownst to him.

"Hush up, I just suppose there's nothing more interesting to talk about."

"We don't have to speak at all, if you'd rather."

Ginny's eyes widened, and Draco then recognized the implications interpreted from his words.

"No, no," he covered, "I didn't mean anything sordid at all--not even plain snogging--I don't want to snog you, Weasley. Well, not that you're bad at it!" he added in response to the strange look she gave him. "I simply meant that studying does not require speech--"

Ginny clapped a hand over his mouth. "I'm having mercy on you, I'll have you know. Stop making a fool out of yourself, all right?"

Draco nodded slightly in agreement. She let him go, and he made a grand show of slacking out his jaw.

"Firm grip you've got there."

"Deal with it. Now, how's about you tell me why you skipped out on Hogsmeade, before I tell you my deepest, darkest secrets?" Ginny suggested, placing air quotes around the appropriate words as called for.

"I'm not allowed on the Hogsmeade weekends," Draco told her, regretting it instantly. He expected her to ask why, but to his surprise, she did not.

"You're in luck, in that case," she said instead. "I'm in desperate need of your help with Potions."

"And yourself, then?" he reminded her of her own end of the bargain.

"I didn't…I couldn't face the prospect of choosing Colin over Michael, or vice-versa, for my weekend's date. It would've looked fishy to decline both of them, and then hang around Neville and Luna… My old girlfriends are either not allowed back at school, or they've moved onto other friends, because I've been somewhat anti-social this year. So I refused both boys with the same reason I gave you, which is perfectly legitimate. I simply have too much work to catch up on."

Draco remained silent throughout her speech, his eyebrow raised in reaction to some of the information revealed.

"Two dates? I knew you were popular, Weasley, but teasing along both of them with the possibility you might give either the time of day in other circumstances? That's just not right."

"I set Colin up with Romilda at least!"

"Vane? She's a bit of a slut for him, isn't she? He's fairly tame, and innocent…"

"You don't know the half of it. And she's not a slut! She's just…boy-crazy."

"Mhmm…"

"Malfoy!"

"Merlin, I'm kidding. All of it was a joke. Lighten up, Weasley. The holiday season is soon to be upon us."

* * *

Hours and a Potions chapter later, Draco and Ginny exited the Room of Requirement, which accordingly sealed itself behind them.

"I suppose everyone's getting back from Hogsmeade, now," Ginny realized, hearing the low din of voices from the floor below.

"Right…well, better not keep your boyfriends waiting, Weasley." Draco smirked. "They'll die, I'm sure, if you don't--"

"You could call me Ginny, if you wanted," she said suddenly. Ginny bit her lip, obviously a little surprised by her own suggestion.

"Why?" Draco demanded to know.

"Because…" she hesitated. "That's what all my friends call me."

"I saved your life, and you automatically assume I want to be your friend?" he asked softly, no longer hostile--more skeptical than anything.

"In my book, yeah, it does," said Ginny, unabashed.

Now Draco hesitated this time. He thought vaguely of his loneliness this year, the vacancy of his dormitory, and the shrewd vindictiveness of his ex-girl friend Pansy Parkinson…

"I could use a friend, I suppose," he said quietly, after a moment's consideration.

"All right then, Mal--I mean, Draco," Ginny quickly rectified herself, though feeling awkward. "Or would you prefer I still call you by your surname?"

"Of course not." Draco kept his voice cool, though Ginny's unexpected use of his first name had made his heart skip an inexplicable beat. "Well, see you later, Weasley." He turned to leave.

"_Ginny_."

He revolved back to her and raised his eyebrows in question.

"How quickly we forget. It's '_Ginny_' from now on," she reminded him.

"Right… Later, then…Ginny."


	13. Denial

**Chapter 13: Denial**

_Dearest Ginny,_

_Your father and I cannot wait for your return home at the term's end, nor for our family Christmas gathering. Merlin knows we need some semblance of normalcy in the midst of these difficult times! It has been difficult to see Bill, Charlie, and the twins this year, between business, the war, and life in general. Ron has returned from doing who-knows-what out in the Muggle world, and with him he has brought along Harry and Hermione, who shall be remaining at the Burrow for the interim. They are all equally eager to see you for the first time in months…_

The letter continued to inform her of the recent Order of the Phoenix injuries and deaths, some of which had not been reported in the Daily Prophet. After Ginny went through her mother's correspondence the first time, her eyes absently raked again and again over the words "Harry" and "eager to see you."

Several moments later, Ginny finally tore herself away from the letter long enough to throw a glance at the common room's grandfather clock. If she didn't leave now, she would without a doubt be late to meet her friend in the library.

She gathered up her parchment and other belongings, stuffing them into her satchel bag. All except for the letter, which she gave one more longing glance before leaving the dormitory.

* * *

Ginny traipsed into the library with only a minute to spare, thanks to a chance run-in with Peeves the Poltergeist, who had as of late taken up the habit of pelting Christmas baubles upon first-years.

Draco bemusedly glanced up at Ginny from his copy of _Out of Charm's Way_, as she rushed to their corner table with a flyaway strand of hair hanging between her eyes. For an instant, he felt an inexplicable urge to reach and tuck it behind her ear where it belonged, but every thought of such an act vanished when Ginny tucked it herself and plopped her books down on the table, causing a reverberating thud.

Madam Pince peeked at the pair from behind a bookcase and gave Ginny an evil eye for the disruption. Ginny mumbled an incoherent apology.

Draco chuckled after the matron left. "She might just send you a curse for Christmas."

Ginny rolled her eyes and opened her own textbook. "You, however, are well on your way to becoming her favorite charge, and that is potentially just as bad as being her least favorite."

"Touché," Draco muttered in reply. "So, have you chosen your potion next term's project yet?"

"I wanted to do the Blood Replenishing Potion, but…"

"But what?"

"I don't have a partner. Luna's set on brewing Pepper Up Potion, and I think it's too trivial."

"Oh. Why Blood Replenishing, anyway?"

"It saved my dad's life a couple of years ago."

"Ah."

"What about you?"

"I don't fancy a particular potion, yet I also am without a partner."

"Hmm…well, perhaps we could work together."

Draco paused. "Er, actually, I'd rather join Luna on her project."

Ginny stared at him for a few seconds and then blinked. "You do realize she'll make you pick fluxweed at midnight on the full moon, don't you?"

"Nice accuracy, because fluxweed is best picked at that time. However, the recipe for Pepper Up Potion does not call for that ingredient. And, I was joking, Ginny. Of course I would much prefer to partner up with you over Luna."

The words "partner up" could be used in a very different connotation, and both of them realized this at once. An awkward silence ensued.

Ginny sighed and flipped to the page in _Advanced Potion-Making_ which described the brewing of Blood Replenishing Potion.

Draco reluctantly turned back to his textbook as well, wanting to say more, but thinking of nothing at the moment.

"Blood Replenishing Potion calls for fluxweed," Ginny said suddenly, looking anxious.

"Yes…and?"

"Isn't that stuff hard to get a hold of?"

"Not if you know where to look."

"Oh." The conversation stopped there, until a few moments later when Draco noticed a vibrating sound coming from beneath the table. He peeked over to see Ginny doing a myriad of things at once: rapidly jiggling her foot, twisting a strand of auburn hair around her finger, and drumming her fingers upon her textbook.

"What is with you?" Draco asked.

"Nothing, nothing, of course," she said quickly, her eyes not matching his as they stared her down.

"It can't be 'nothing'," Draco observed. "You're nervous about something. Aren't you?"

"What would give you that absurd idea?" Still she continued the tapping, the twisting, and the jiggling.

"Considering you're fidgeting like there's a Cornish pixie up your skirt…" Draco smirked. "I think I can safely say something uncomfortable is on your mind."

Ginny angrily slammed her book shut and gave him one of her infamous death-glares. The loud sound earned her another death-glare from Madam Pince. Draco and Ginny had come to the library, for a change, to study for their Potions practical, to be taken right before the end of term.

"I don't have to tell you anything," Ginny whispered to him in a dangerous voice.

Still he smirked. "But I think you will. Actually, I know you will. You can't keep anything from me; I'm simply too easy to talk to." He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head.

Ginny folded her arms and remained decidedly silent, picking a spot on the ceiling to carefully study.

Realization flooded through Draco's mind as he put two and two together.

"Merlin," he muttered. "You're on about Potter, aren't you?"

"Oh, erm…"

"Aren't you?" he demanded.

"For goodness' sake, Mr. Malfoy, keep your voice down!"

"My apologies, Madam Pince," Draco said sheepishly.

Ginny spoke in an undertone when the librarian left. "I guess you're not her favorite anymore, hmmm?"

"Ginny, don't change the subject."

"I'll do as I please."

"How can you still be into Potter after all that's happened? This is ridiculous."

"Not entirely," she disagreed. "It's just that I'm going to see him over the break, and it's been a long time…"

"Well, naturally, but you shouldn't get so nervous about it. It's just Potter."

"Just Potter?" Ginny raised an eyebrow at Draco. "Since when has he been ordinary?"

"You know what I mean."

"Well, he's never been just some ordinary person to me."

"That much is obvious," Draco said darkly.

"Well," Ginny paused. "I guess it is a bit obvious."

"I don't know what you see in him."

"Getting a little personal, don't you think?"

"You're my friend, aren't you? Don't friends talk about things like this?"

"Erm…I suppose. But why would you want to talk about Harry?"

"It's not that I do…I simply don't understand it. Potter can be so whiny sometimes."

"So can you, if I recall properly."

Draco glared at Ginny pointedly. "What I mean to say is, why are you so hung up on him?"

"Well, we were dating last year…"

"And then you split up."

"Right."

"So you're still holding out hope for him?"

Ginny hesitated before answering. "I've always hoped when it comes to Harry."

"Does he deserve it?"

"What? Of—of course he does!"

"He's promised to come back to you?"

"Well…not in so many words."

"Then…do you love him?"

"That's a silly question!" She snorted unattractively.

"Then why are you avoiding it?"

"You don't have to be privy to everything."

"You don't love him."

Ginny could hardly speak. "How…how can—why are you—what do you _want_ from me?"

"Nothing," Draco sighed. "Absolutely nothing. I'm sorry to have upset you."

Neither of them spoke after that. Ginny occasionally looked over to Draco, and he every once in a while sneaked a glance at her, but never did either one catch the other staring.

* * *

Draco left the library hours later, fully satisfied with his study session for the Potions assessment in the morning.

The truth was, Draco did want something from Ginny. He wanted her to admit to herself that she no longer (if she had ever truly) loved Harry Potter. Why he wanted this to occur was however beyond him. His feelings were mixed. He knew not whether to rejoice or mourn in the fact that Ginny was going to be away for the holidays.

He figured that he would be lonely without her. She was now his only friend, the one he always wanted an opinion from, or in whom to incite a certain reaction.

Just as Draco slipped through the Slytherin common room entrance, he found his ex-girlfriend levitating her trunk through the girls' dormitory corridor.

"I see you've packed for the holidays," he remarked, startling Pansy.

The trunk dropped a good foot in the air in the instant it took the witch to regain her concentration.

"My end-of-term examinations ended this afternoon, so I'm taking the Floo network home. Will you be packing?" Her voice was shrewd.

"Well, it's only two weeks or so…why leave for only a fortnight?"

"Oh, please," Pansy muttered, sounding frustrated. "I know it's more than you'll ever care to let me in on." She sat in an emerald-colored armchair and stared away from Draco with a dark expression on her face.

"Pansy, I don't know why you're constantly on this suspicion that I'm keeping something from you."

"Not _constantly_. Merlin, Draco, don't you realize? We've barely spoken at all since you saved that…that…Weaselette…from that nasty fall, more than a month ago, now."

"Well, I've got nothing to report."

"You're denying who you really are, don't you get it? Not responding to the Dark Lord's call—yes, I've seen you flinch, your Dark Mark's burning every once in a while. You haven't gone to see your mother, and now…well, my _God_, you're fraternizing with a blood traitor. If that's not betrayal to your Malfoy line, then I'm not sure what is. At least have some respect for your own House, and for the people whose reputations may depend on whom their classmate messes around with."

"Ginny and I have not been 'messing around', for your information!" Draco burst out, the furrow between his brows severely deepening.

"Sure, you're 'studying'. Everyone at Hogwarts basically equates your doing that to 'studying' the inside of her mouth with your tongue."

"Does the entire school think we're...doing that?"

"No, but I'm becoming fairly convinced myself, these days."

"Pansy!"

"I'm only joking. Though by your hurried denial of my assumption, you surely aren't making an excellent case for yourself."

Pansy gave the common room a once-over and began to once again levitate her trunk.

"Happy Christmas, I suppose. And do think about what I said…oh, I just about forgot—if Terry Boot finds my bra, would you stash it before anyone else sees it? I have my own reputation to think about. Thanks, and have a happy New Year!"

She was out of the common room before Draco could so much as blink in response to her ludicrous final request.

What _had_ Hogwarts come to?

* * *

Ginny was multitasking up in her dormitory, balancing her Potions textbook in one hand, and writing back to her mother with the other one. The quill shook slightly, and she hoped her mother wouldn't notice how distracted her rushed letter was.

Really, she found it unfair that all these things had to be so complicated, and everything had to pile up at once.

Part of her couldn't help wondering whether or not Draco had a point. She would often go the entire day without thinking once of Harry…

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, was quickly becoming a different story. She anticipated her interactions with him as everything played out, often finding herself wondering what he would say to whatever was on her mind currently, or what he would do if she said a certain thing.

But whenever Ginny realized where her thoughts were heading, she would mentally berate herself and shake her head. It wouldn't do to obsess over Draco. Sure, he was her friend, but no one could be privy to that. What would her family think if they knew how much time she'd spent with him the past few months? Most likely her brothers would disown her, but she couldn't speak for her mum and dad. Hermione would worry about it; Harry would probably try to come to Hogwarts and kill Draco…if, that is, he still cared about her at all.

Ginny sighed as she packed the last sweater into her trunk. It would be nice, though, to go home for Christmas. It had been much too long since she'd last seen her family…she could only hope that they would all be at the Burrow when she returned. At least, everyone except Percy, whom she didn't expect would be there.

Oh! She had nearly forgotten her favorite pair of Christmas socks in the top night-stand drawer. Ginny sifted around for the fuzzy socks, until something small, and cold, and smooth met the tips of her fingers. Raising a quizzical eyebrow, she grasped the tiny object in her fist and pulled it out.

It was the charm of the necklace Harry had given her—a golden Snitch, an even smaller version of the real thing. They had both kept it quiet when he had bestowed it upon Ginny, mostly due to another, though obnoxious, necklace Ron had received from Lavender only earlier that year. With her thumb, Ginny turned the Snitch charm over in her hand. Harry had wanted her to keep it, despite her protests that she was no longer his girlfriend, and therefore shouldn't.

Draco had accused her of not loving Harry anymore, if she had at all. It was so incredibly absurd…it required no explanation, her love for the Boy Who Lived, and certainly she didn't owe such an explanation to Draco Malfoy. Oh, she would show Draco that she was still Harry's, she resolved, clutching the necklace to her heart.

_Denial, indeed…_


	14. Eternity

**A/N: This chapter is necessary in order to move the story along. Ah, a Christmas chapter in the summer...well, this one's been years in the making, several pieces of the story have been written for quite some time. It's the putting together that's difficult, because it's got to flow. Have a great day, to whomever reads this!**

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* * *

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Chapter 14: Eternity

Ginny was forced to leave her luggage in a haphazard mountain by the fireplace of the Burrow, as she was assaulted by her mother upon arrival.

"Oh, Ginny, Ginny, my dear!" said Mrs. Weasley. "Finally! We're all here; come, come and see your brothers…"

Charlie looked slightly disheveled, as always; the twins were wearing identical mischievous smiles, as always; Bill and Fleur were gazing into each other's eyes by the Christmas tree—a new kind of always; Percy was absent, of course, the always everyone sensed keenly but never spoke of; off in the corner, Mr. Weasley was, as always, sitting in his shabby armchair, taking in the sights around him contentedly.

And then there were the others. Ron was bickering quietly with Hermione, probably over something incredibly trivial, as always. Harry (Ginny sighed internally—to what end, she wished she knew) was staring off to the side with something heavy on his mind, no doubt, and tuning out his best friends.

Each of the three hugged her in turn, Harry lingering more than was perhaps appropriate. "It's really good to see you, Ginny," he whispered in her ear.

"You, too," she managed, completely taken aback by his words. The words were, of course, perfectly normal at a gathering like this, but somehow they seemed anti-climactic in the time and place.

Ginny was placing all her gifts under the tree when Hermione caught up with her. The would-have-been Head Girl had millions of questions about the current state of Hogwarts.

"And Neville? What's he been up to?"

"If you mean romantically, Demelza Robins has definitely been paying him extra-special attention."

Hermione laughed lightly at the good news, though Ginny could sense that the young woman had little to laugh at these days.

"I heard from your mother about that fall you took at school…thank goodness you're all right." Hermione _would_ take that news with great gravity, what with her fear of flying. "I never learned how you were saved, though."

This was curious…curious, indeed. In the owl that had been sent to her family, hadn't Professor McGonagall written that Draco Malfoy was the person she owed her life?

"She caught onto her broom handle before she reached the ground, of course," Ron chimed in, interrupting the close-knit conversation.

Ginny weighed in her mind the ramifications of correcting her brother's falsehood. Should she really bring up Draco's unsuspected heroic act, here and now?

She glanced at Harry, who was paying her very close attention, and decided to keep the truth quiet, at least for the time being.

At that moment, a silvery-blonde plait of hair flashed into view.

"I made zome treacle tarts, if you would like one!" Fleur offered the three of them, holding out the tray of treats in front of her.

Ginny merely blinked at her sister-in-law, internally embarrassed that her stomach had lurched inexplicably with hope at the sight of such slivery blonde hair. Why such a reaction, when that wouldn't even make sense—? She shook her head, partially in response to Fleur's mangled-looking tarts, and partially so as to sober herself.

Only Ron took a tart—five of them, actually—and stared wordlessly at Fleur's retreating back. He ambled over to Harry with his mouth stuffed full.

"Haven't things changed since Fleur married Bill?" asked Hermione, referring to Ron's current state. It was obvious Hermione was miffed at his behavior, and Ginny suspected why.

"I dunno. I haven't been around, of course… How are things between the two of you, anyway?"

"I haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about," Hermione lied, turning a light shade of pink.

"Keep telling yourself that."

Hermione paused, seeming to have just found the perfect moment to bring something up. "You know, Ginny, I do believe Harry's missed you quite a bit. A whole lot, actually," she said in an undertone.

"Oh?" said Ginny, surprised. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, he sometimes mumbles your name at night…talks in his sleep," Hermione explained. "I don't know if he realizes it himself. But you must see the way he looks at you now…it's as if he didn't understand what he was missing when he broke things off, before."

Ginny stole another glance at Harry, who had been staring at her, and he sharply looked away.

"Hermione…" she began slowly. "Would he really go back on his decision…?"

"I don't know. But if I were in your position, I'd want to find out." Hermione left Ginny with those words to grab a butterbeer from the kitchen.

An hour or so later, Ginny cornered Ron while he was alone.

"Why did you say I had saved myself from my fall at Hogwarts?" she demanded, keeping her voice down.

"What?" Ron appeared completely clueless.

She grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer in.

"You heard me. Why'd you lie?"

"I didn't lie! For Merlin's ruddy sake, Ginny, I only repeated what Mum just told me a couple days ago!"

"Oh." Ginny backed off, pausing. "Sorry, Ron." She let go of his shirt.

"Yeah, yeah…" Ron grumbled, massaging his neck.

"How's Hermione, by the way?"

"You saw her yourself; she's all right."

"Dear brother, you can't be telling me you haven't gotten closer to her these few months."

"So what if I have? The world could easily go to hell, and then there'd be no chance for us, anyway—" Ron stopped himself short as a smirk began to spread across his sister's face. "Shut it, you."

"I didn't say a word," Ginny reminded him, in an innocent tone.

"Well, you better bloody not make anything of that."

"Okay, okay," she conceded, pulling Ron into a big hug.

"What's this for?"

"I just missed you, Ronald."

Ron looked sheepish. "Me too, Ginny. Me too."

"Ginny, Ron, come and help set the table!" Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen. After a moment without their responses, she added, "Now!"

The brother and sister exchanged glances before performing the task their mother ordered of them.

Dinner went off without a hitch, and everyone went to bed with their stomachs fully satisfied. Ginny found her mother in the kitchen afterwards, where the mother of seven was waving her wand lazily at the dirty dishes as levitating sponges scrubbed at them.

"Mum, I was wondering whether you still had that letter McGonagall sent about my accident at school."

"In the drawer over there," Mrs. Weasley said, gesturing sleepily. "Why?"

"Dinner was great, Mum. Best ever," Ginny complimented her.

Changing the subject worked. Mrs. Weasley smiled contentedly. "Thank you, my dear. You really ought to get to bed, you must be exhausted from your travels."

"I came instantaneously by Floo—oh, never mind." Ginny took the letter she had asked for and ascended the stairs quickly.

Hermione was already asleep on her cot when Ginny entered the room. The latter lit the candle on her desk and read over the Headmistress's note to her parents.

As she had come to suspect, Draco's name was nowhere to be found in the letter. Instead, the lie Ron held to be fact was written here. Why hadn't McGonagall mentioned someone else has saved her? Her parents may not have liked that a Malfoy had saved her, but Ginny felt that credit should be given where credit is due…

Ginny stifled a huge yawn and realized that her mother was right, and she should get some rest. This issue of falsehood could wait, at least for now.

* * *

So much for actual rest. Though she was dreadfully tired, Ginny tossed a turned for half the night. The letter troubled her more than she wanted it to. None of it made sense.

When Ginny did sleep, she dreamt. Her visions weren't of sugar plums, nor of a new broom, nor any other thing pertaining to Christmas.

No, her dreams were of Hogwarts. Simple ideas, first. Looking down at a frothing cauldron, or a textbook, or her plate in the Great Hall. And then she saw students whizzing past her on brooms. She caught sight of Luna, then of Neville, then of Colin—the nasty bloke he was, giving her a waggish look even in her sleep.

And then Ginny was falling, falling as she had done a couple of months before. A pale hand reached out from the abyss and caught hold of hers. The grip was firm, reassuring. As if the person whose hand it was never wanted to let her go.

The last thing she sensed was a lingering feathery-light kiss on her knuckles.

She woke up with a start. The room was cast in the faint light of the sun's first attempt at rising. Christmas Eve morning.

Even though she didn't try, Ginny knew she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. So she decided to bring her Christmas presents for everyone downstairs and place them under the tree.

On her way down the stairs, Ginny nearly fell to her death, tripping over a box of ornaments someone had forgotten to hang on the tree. She was just hanging up her favorite homemade snowflake ornament when a voice behind her said, "I would place it a little farther left."

Ginny gasped, holding a hand to her heart. "Harry!" she exclaimed in a low voice, when she found the perpetrator. "You frightened me…"

"Terribly sorry," Harry said, smiling. His apology did not seem sincere; instead, the Boy Who Lived took amused delight in the redhead's startled reaction.

"These are desperate times we live in, and you of all people know it. I should've just hexed you before checking to see who you were."

"The protections on your house are the strongest the Order has to offer," Harry reassured her. "I'm here, after all."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Because you're the world's most-wanted wizard right now."

"Well, yes. I am. Especially after what Ron, Hermione and I had to do at the Ministry last month."

She held her hands up between them. "Never mind. I don't want to know what's going on, or I can't, according to you, at least. So let's stop talking about this."

"You're just going to give me the silent treatment? We should catch up. I want to know how things are at Hogwarts."

"They're fine," Ginny answered him firmly, not daring to expound on what had been happening in her life there. "And if mum's the word for you, it will be for me, too, until you man up."

"What do you want to know, exactly?"

Ginny looked Harry straight in the eye. "Maybe I want to know where you've been all this time. Maybe I deserve some answers. I think I've been pretty patient, wouldn't you say?"

"Ah, well…"

"Can't you tell me?"

"Uh…Ron, Hermione, and I are hunting down bits of Voldemort's soul…"

"_What_?"

"Shhh," he said. "You're going to wake everyone up."

"Harry, you're going to need to explain yourself if I'm going to have to understand _that_."

He sighed. "All right, then. Please, sit."

Ginny begrudgingly obeyed. She folded her arms and waited for him to start.

Harry took a deep breath. "Sorry, it's just…complicated."

"Just try your best, then."

"Er…last year, as you know, I had meetings with Dumbledore every now and then…"

"I remember you sneaking off for those, yeah."

"And he told me a lot of things about Voldemort; Tom Riddle's past and what he accomplished for himself. We focused on the fact that Voldemort wanted to ensure that he wouldn't die easily."

Ginny raised an eyebrow, but nodded for him to continue.

"What he did to make this happen was make these things called Horcruxes, which are basically objects that can contain a piece of a human soul."

She gasped. "But…how do you make something like that?"

"Murder." The word made Ginny gulp with horror.

"So…you're trying to destroy the objects?"

"It's not as simple as that, Ginny."

That, at least, she believed. "How many of these…Horcruxes does he have lying around?"

"Well, only three left, now that we've gotten hold of and destroyed a few. He originally made six, so he'd have seven pieces of his soul."

"The magical number," Ginny said. Seven was, of course, known in the wizarding world as a very powerful number—the most powerful, in fact.

"Right."

Ginny slumped on the sofa. "This is pretty unbelievable, Harry."

"I know," he agreed. After a beat, he said, "You know, Gin, I really missed you. A lot."

His saying that was supposed to make her smile, and cry, and laugh all at once. But she couldn't believe he meant it. He may have just told her the truth about many things, but this…this was innately different. She also wondered where the nickname 'Gin' had come from…certainly she hadn't permitted him to use it.

"Did you really miss me?" she asked him skeptically.

"Of course. You're my girlfriend, after all."

_That_ was news to her. "Your girlfriend? So that's what I am to you? After everything you've put me through?"

"What do you mean?"

"Merlin, Harry, if you're telling me you think I should come back to you, as if no time has passed, you're seriously delusional."

"Delusional!"

"Well, come on. Think about it: you've told me repeatedly that we can't be together, because of all you've got to do. Then you left, and I went off to school…that's not a very 'boyfriend' thing to do to abandon me like that without any real explanation!"

"But now I've explained everything, haven't I?"

"That's beside the point."

"Ginny, why can't we just—?"

"What? Pretend it never happened? Oh yes, may we let by-gones be by-gones, just so Harry Potter can snog his maybe-girlfriend whenever he pleases!"

"I mean it, though, I did miss you—"

"Me, or kissing me—kissing _somebody_?"

"You, of course."

Ginny's laugh was derisory this time. "Right," she said incredulously.

"That laugh…" Harry paused. "Merlin, that reminded me of…"

"Of what?"

He laughed now, but his was much lighter than hers. "This is ridiculous, but actually…of Malfoy. You were laughing like Malfoy would whenever he made fun of me. Seems pretty stupid, now, all that petty arguing. We're in the middle of a war!"

How could he find such an inane thing funny? Ginny did doubt that Harry would be joking around about Draco's harmlessness if he knew how much time that certain Slytherin and Ginny had been spending together, alone and sometimes locked away in a dungeon. It was innocent friendship, really, but would Harry see it that way? She doubted this as well.

Harry craned his neck upward, and Ginny saw what he was looking at: a sprig of mistletoe hanging above the two of them. He leaned right in to kiss her, but she pushed him away, tossing her fiery mane back—a sign of warning to Harry, as he was not on her good side any longer.

He didn't catch the red flag, however. "Gin, I was just trying to make up."

"Make up? Make _up_?"

"Yes!"

"And when it comes time for us to part at the end of the holiday, what are you going to say?"

"Uh, I'm not sure what—"

"Harry, I know exactly what you're going to say." His mouth opened and closed, and then he gestured for her to continue. "You'll say, 'I'm sorry, but I can't do this. I made a mistake.' And I won't say anything, because you'll have let me down yet again."

Ginny was surprised to find, that although her voice was choked up with emotion, she wasn't crying.

"I wouldn't do that to you—" Harry started.

"You say that now," Ginny snapped.

Harry took her face in his hands. "I say that from now on. Forever." And then he brought their lips together, under the mistletoe.


	15. Revelation

**Chapter Fifteen: Revelation**

Nothing. That's what Ginny felt. Absolute nothingness. The spark between her and Harry had faded, and gone out…only now, she knew it.

As Harry moved his lips against hers inexpertly, but eagerly, she couldn't help but think that Draco had been right.

She didn't feel the same way about Harry as she used to.

All those years she had idolized him, from seeing him at King's Cross for the first time, then until she first went out with Michael Corner. Once she started dating Michael, it seemed so childish to her, that obsession she'd had for the Boy Who Lived…simply because he was who he was. And after Michael, when she'd been with Dean, the old fixation was more like a distant memory.

Then last year, when Harry had finally taken an interest in her, it all came flooding back, albeit in a different way. Wasn't it what she always wanted, to be with Harry Potter? With someone who had so heroically fought for her in the Chamber of Secrets? And who had done many other such valiant things in his years at Hogwarts?

Though as Ginny thought of it, she realized Harry wasn't the only person who had saved her life. Not anymore. That wasn't what changed things between this year and the last, no. This change was about two people who did love each other, but the timing was terribly off, and there was something missing. She wasn't even sure what was missing, but there was this strong feeling she had that it was something important.

Currently, however, Harry deepened their kiss, and she reflexively pushed his chest away, her hands shaking slightly. It didn't matter _what_ was missing, she realized, but that it was. She barely knew how to phrase it in her own mind, just understood it innately.

"Thanks," Harry laughed, slightly out of breath. "Almost forgot to breathe there."

Ginny's gaze was distant over Harry's shoulder. She wondered if he'd even noticed her unresponsiveness before, while she'd been mulling over all these things.

Obviously not, as was proven to her when Harry smilingly wrapped his arms around her small frame once again, and got ready for another snog.

It was an alien feeling—around Harry, at least—as repulsion permeated every fiber of Ginny's being. And now Harry, for the first time, realized something was wrong with her.

"What's the matter?" He slurred his words, and Ginny felt herself growing annoyed, not only with him, but with her own mind at the moment. There was an internal battle going on, between the logical nature of her thoughts now, and all those wishes from her infatuated past.

What was the matter, anyway? Hadn't she yearned for this moment, reunited with Harry, for months upon end? And now that she'd finally gotten here, with a perfectly willing, handsome-as-a-shiny-new-Christmas-present, loving Harry Potter under the mistletoe—well, wasn't this the sort of thing she'd dreamed of as early as first year? Maybe she had fantasized something similar to this even before then.

The answer was yes. _Of course, yes. Yes, yes, yes! _The voice in the back of Ginny's head, which had been holding on desperately to the thought of her and Harry's reunion, nearly screamed at her.

But, in truth, Ginny didn't know what exactly she wanted. But she was beginning to understand what she no longer wanted.

"Ginny?" Harry was still waiting for her to reply.

She tried to say something to him, but none of it made any sense at all. She certainly couldn't mention Draco's words of caution to her, about _him_. Hell, if Harry had any inkling that she and Draco were friends, he'd go to Hogwarts and punch the seemingly-reformed Slytherin's lights out. But no one could know that. Not even her parents knew Draco had returned to Hogwarts, much less that he had saved her life.

Harry shrugged, seeming to take her silence as consent to keep going. After all, there wasn't anything a good snog couldn't cure, right?

Wrong. So, so wrong. Ginny stopped him short. Harry raised his eyebrows up into his unkempt hair, which was even messier than usual at the moment, as he'd awoken without trying anything on it.

"Harry," Ginny began in a soft voice, "I…I can't."

"But why not?" Harry, when frustrated, used to amuse her, but now Ginny was simply frustrated right back at him.

"It just doesn't feel…right," she explained lamely.

"What can I do to make things right?" The look in his vibrant green eyes was a determined one.

"I don't think that…no… There's nothing you can do, Harry."

"Of course I can!" He was confident of it, most likely because he deemed other events of crisis in his life much more difficult than this one. But he didn't understand. This was much more complicated than he'd bargained for, at least Ginny believed so. "The problem's between the two of us, isn't it?"

"I suppose—well, yes."

"Then let me fix it." He gripped her wrists tightly, almost desperately—clinging on to her as if for dear life.

"Harry, that hurts," Ginny told him. She'd never seen this side of him before.

He loosened his grip but still held onto her. "I need you, Ginny. Don't you get it? You ground me, because I know that whatever happens, I can always come back into your arms, and—"

"And what?" Ginny demanded incredulously. "I'll have you back, just like that?"

Harry nodded in assent, but it seemed he did so with reservations.

"No, Harry, that's not how it works."

"But I can't live without you—"

Ginny snorted. "Please. You've been fine all this time without me. You can live without me."

"Don't you want to be with me? I don't understand it. I mean, if you've waited this long for me, then—"

"—it was foolishly done!" Ginny yelled. "I'm not going to wait for you anymore!"

"But I'm here now! You don't _have_ to wait."

"I don't mean waiting for you to come back. I was waiting for you to come to your senses…but now I see that neither you nor I can make sense of _this_, because it's not supposed to make sense. The timing, it's all messed up, and you aren't thinking clearly—and you, of all people need a clear head if you're going to accomplish all this Horcrux stuff you finally told me about.

"But more importantly," she continued, "back in June, you told me you needed to be alone. At the wedding, you had some sort of relapse and were with me briefly. I let you, so I blame myself. And now you're trying it again, and I'm not falling for it this time."

Harry let go of her completely and stood back against the wooden doorway, as if struck by the blow of Ginny's words. "I didn't realize you…I mean…can't we talk about it? Can't we fix this?"

"It's too late as it is, Harry." Ginny turned on her heel and made her way up the stairs. Harry trailed behind her curiously.

"Ginny, what are you doing?" he asked, obvious confusion written over his features. Ginny didn't answer him, only continuing with haste up to her room.

When she burst through the unlocked door, she found Hermione wasn't in bed any longer. Ginny guessed with half-amusement that her friend was sharing an early morning snog with Ron. She also hoped Ron had brushed his teeth…it figured snogging was the only thing that would wake her brother up at such an ungodly hour. She rolled her eyes in disgust. Was it all anyone cared about anymore? Well, she knew of at least one young man who had other things on his mind, if her suspicions were to be confirmed. And she would see him soon enough.

She proceeded to the chest of drawers in the corner, pulling out the clothes she'd only placed in it yesterday. With a swift movement, Ginny lifted her half-unpacked trunk from under her unmade bed, stuffing everything in sight into it.

Harry gasped in recognition as Ginny moved on to haphazardly throwing her various pairs of shoes on top of her potions textbook inside the trunk.

"You're leaving?" he said in disbelief.

"Yes," Ginny answered him, her voice brisk and business-like. "I've had quite enough trouble for one holiday, I'm afraid."

She snapped her lighter-than-normal suitcase shut, and then she finally turned back to Harry.

"Tell Ron and Hermione I'm sorry. Tell everyone I'm sorry. But don't expect me to come back. Not while you're here. It's for your own good, you can look at it that way. You need to focus, Harry Potter. Wake up, smell the coffee, and get cracking. Owl me whenever you decide you're ready to be friends, because that's all you can give anyone right now, if that."

She knew it was harsh, even unnecessarily so. But it was how she felt, and it was the honest-to-Merlin truth. It was best for her to leave immediately. Otherwise, her mother or someone else would force or guilt her into staying, and that would simply not do.

So without any further word or hesitation, Ginny descended down the stairs, through the living room, and to the fireplace. She grabbed an extra-large handful of Floo Powder and had just stepped onto the ashen hearth, when a voice from the stairs traveled down to her.

Her mother's shrill voice met her ears painfully: "Ginevra Weasley, what on earth do you think you're doing?"

The words came too late. With a cry of "Hogsmeade Village!" and a flash of brilliant green fire, Ginny was gone.

Careful not to bare her teeth, Ginny smiled slightly through the dense fog of ash and debris. She felt alive, as if she'd had an awakening…a revelation.

* * *

_Mum and Dad-_

_I'm sure you'll figure out why I left soon enough. I'm sorry to have cut my time with you—and everyone else—so short. I have left my presents for everyone under the tree. Don't bother sending mine after me-I know Errol's not up to the job, and I'm not sure you'll think I deserve the courtesy. Merry Christmas._

_Love,_

_Ginny_

Ginny read over her letter one more time before paying three Knuts to the wizard behind the counter at the Hogsmeade post office. She had debated whether or not she should list everyone she wanted her regards passed to, but then decided including absolutely everyone except for Harry would have been terribly mean-spirited of her. Her heart ached at the regret of not hugging her family one last time before leaving.

What was done was done. She'd simply have to live with her rash decision.

Figuring it best not to linger in the village, as her family might try to follow her, Ginny headed straight for the Hogwarts gates.

Thankfully, Hagrid happened to be walking past the entrance when she arrived, and he let her inside the grounds after receiving her harried explanation of why she'd returned so soon.

Once inside, the cheery Christmas atmosphere of the castle put a small smile on Ginny's face, as well as gave hope to her heart, that her holiday might yet be saved.

After all, she had at least one friend she knew would be there to greet her, even if this was so unexpected.

* * *

Draco sighed in a wistful way as he gazed down at a group of first-years from a library window. The eleven-year-olds frolicked in the new-fallen snow, carefree and innocent.

_To be young and naïve again_, Draco mused. He paused in his thoughts, and then smirked. _Not that I was ever the latter. _Well, that was what he liked to think.

He felt as if everything in his life, up until he became a Death Eater, had been lived by another person. Like he had always lived with the burden of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on his shoulders, and all the horrors that could, any day, become true. Who knew how long it would be before the Dark Lord decided to track him down? Not that he was at all important to the cause, of course.

Some had it worse… Dare he think it, Potter might have it worst of all. _Potter_…

Ginny Weasley was probably with the 'Chosen One' right now, playing a game of chess, or joining him in an early-morning broomstick flight.

Or eating breakfast with him.

Or sharing a mug of eggnog near a fireplace with him.

Or snogging him under the mistletoe…

Draco let out his most exasperated grunt, earning a beady-eyed glare from Madam Pince as he passed her between book cases. Did she literally live in the library? He sighed, turning his attention back to his previous thoughts.

Actually, Potter had it pretty good, right about now, didn't he?

Oh, what did he care what Ginny was doing with Potter? It was really none of his business, after all, whom she snogged and didn't snog, even though he was now her friend.

But friends of the opposite persuasion shared that type of information, typically. The exception to that rule would, naturally, be Pansy's relation of her various escapades to him only a few days ago.

Except there was this gnawing feeling that had developed in Draco's gut, that he should pummel whomever laid a hand on his new friend. He shook himself to clear his mind of such a thought. It would not do to think of things he had no business mulling over, especially since there was no logical reason he should do any of the things he was thinking…oh, blast it all! Why was everything so bloody confusing? He hadn't even spoken to anyone today, and was just toying with his own mind to pass the time.

Perhaps it was that he was over-thinking so much, it was making his head spin. The fact of the matter was, he would be quite without Ginny for the next fortnight, and he'd simply have to live with that.

It would be a lonely two weeks.

Even though he and Ginny only really saw each other during Potions class and their relatively clandestine meetings in the library, it felt as if they hadn't been apart for quite some time. Just knowing he wouldn't run into her in the corridors for the next several days was enough to depress him, while logically it shouldn't have soured his mood one bit.

Draco would never, even at the point of torture, admit that he and Ginny were growing closer with every moment that passed between them. It wasn't an obsession, or anything of the like. It simply felt natural to be around her, now.

But the voice in the back of Draco's mind was quick to point out that such growth would never exceed friendship. This notion was hard to hold onto, however, during the hours in which his subconscious invaded him with dreams of forbidden ecstasy. Bloody delusions…they meant nothing; he highly doubted that these desires from his dreams were indicative of the ones in his conscious life. After all, he ruled his own life, and these feelings most definitely did not exist on his end. Right. Exactly.

Having had quite enough of the musty old library, Draco exited it—and in turn escaped Madam Pince's commanding air, which rang of bitterness toward the holiday season—and headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He'd awoken early, before the house-elves had even prepared the morning meal.

The trek down to the entrance hall seemed to take longer than usual. _Lonely indeed, _he harrumphed to himself.

Draco was just reaching the bottom-most step of the marble staircase when he caught sight of a flash of red at the corner of his eye. It couldn't be! Not—

But it was. He found it took some restraint for him to merely saunter—though quickly—towards her, fighting the urge to run.

"Ginny!" he called, but softly—so she'd be the only one to hear it, rather than the better half of the left-behind holiday crowd in the Great Hall

The chocolate-eyed witch spun around, her dark green winter coat fanning out as she did. She smiled widely, and he returned it with a lopsided smirk of his own.

"Happy Christmas, Draco."

* * *

A/N: Got to love some more Christmas in July! Well, whichever way you spin it, it was fun to rewrite this chapter and add more character development from its original version. Review if you've gotten this far, I'd like to know what you think, whether it's praise or constructive criticism! With love, suckr4romance


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Harry Potter, Friendship, Romance