As the sun shined brightly over the Hogwarts castle, it was undeniably a beautiful day—giving the students no reason to remain inside. Fifth year Ginny Weasley happily trailed Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley towards the Quidditch Pitch. Harry had felt like flying, so he had convinced his friends to come join him. Besides, he was not allowed to go anywhere alone, now that Voldemort was back.

Not having anything better to do, Ginny had decided to follow the Golden Trio. Usually on a beautiful day like this last year, she would have spent her time snogging with Michael under a tree by the lake; however, Michael had been out of the picture since the previous spring, and she had not found anyone she liked enough to date since then.

Slowly but surely, Harry, Ron and Hermione were beginning to include her in more of their escapades—never the important, secretive missions, but at least now they were inviting her to practice Quidditch with them.

Ginny clutched her sketchbook protectively under her right arm as she shouldered her broomstick with her left arm. Hermione had asked to borrow Ginny’s broomstick so she could practice flying a little. Willing obliging, Ginny figured she could take the time to draw some pictures while she watched the trio fly. Ginny knew Hermione was fairly terrified of flying, so Ginny was certain that she would be able to fly with Harry and Ron after Hermione gave up.

Upon reaching the pitch, Ginny noticed there were several other students playing impromptu Quidditch games on their broomsticks. She handed Hermione her broom, which was actually Ron’s old broomstick. Hermione took it reluctantly, as though she would much rather be anywhere than here. Ginny smiled encouragingly at her—Ginny knew Hermione would not get hurt. Ron would certainly prevent Hermione from falling off her broomstick.

Ginny idly climbed into one of the sets of bleachers and looked around the field. Cho Chang and Michael Corner were tossing around a large Quaffle-like ball with some other Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Quidditch players. On the other side of the stadium, there was a sole figure zipping around, making spectacular dives. Ginny watched the billowing robes ripple around the Quidditch toned body as it plummeted towards the ground, only to turn at the last minute and surge upwards towards the sky. She gazed at the rapidly moving figure, mesmerized at the ease with which it handled the broomstick. Suddenly she caught a glimpse of white-blond hair—she realized that the elegant flyer was actually Draco Malfoy.

Tearing her eyes off of the cruel person who persistently ridiculed her family, she turned her attention back to Harry, Ron and Hermione. It seemed as though Hermione was too apprehensive to mount the broomstick for fear that she would be horrible and fall off. Ginny knew that Hermione had not really flown since first year flying lessons. As Ron attempted to coax Hermione onto the broomstick, Harry appeared to have gotten weary of the ordeal and had climbed onto his Firebolt and accelerated into sky.

Ginny observed Harry’s flying in awe—he had a natural talent that even unrelenting practice could never match. She watched as he narrowly missed the Quidditch field on a spectacular dive before ascending towards the cloudless sky.

Suddenly, Harry was distracted by a snide comment by Draco Malfoy. Ginny fought to hear their conversation, but they were too far away. She watched as Draco slipped a struggling Snitch out of his pocket, slyly displaying it for Harry. Gazing at the golden Snitch reflecting brightly in the sunlight, she smirked slightly as she saw Draco issue a challenge of sorts. Harry nodded his head curtly, and the two of them shook hands brusquely before Draco released the Snitch into the air.

The two of them spoke for a moment more—it seemed as though they were conversing about Quidditch—without arguing! Ginny stared in amazement at the completely unexpected development. Suddenly, she heard one of them shout something that sounded like “Ready? Go!” and they both rocketed towards opposite ends of the stadium.

Ginny flipped open her sketchbook and removed a stick of charcoal from her pocket as she watched Draco and Harry incessantly seek to confuse each other with classy feints and dives.

Contemplating her paper for a moment, Ginny considered the best way to start her drawing. She decidedly drew a swift light line, angling it with light strokes until she had established the proper angle of the broomstick. She glanced up again at the two boys pursuing the Snitch. Harry was leaning forward steeply, slanting himself to prevent the wind from slowing his dives. She commenced sketching a light outline of Harry’s body, crouching low against the broomstick, trying to discern the contour of his figure from underneath the windswept robes.

Once she was satisfied with his form, she carefully mulled over the positioning and shape of his head—she always had the hardest time drawing proportional and realistic looking heads. Peeking at Harry again, she was displeased that he was not facing her. Instead, he was flying in the opposite direction far at the end of the pitch, trying to lure Draco towards that vicinity. Impatiently waiting for Harry to fly towards her, she found herself distracted by Draco and his sophisticated flying style, clearly the product of years of hard work and training.

Putting down her charcoal for a moment, Ginny stared at her sketch as a whole—it seemed incomplete somehow, mostly because of the headless figure of Harry. Perhaps if she drew another person it would look better.

Ginny carefully picked up her charcoal again and gazed at the Quidditch players, trying to settle on whom to draw. She could add Hermione or Ron, but they seemed content with their current activities. Hermione had stopped struggling to ride her own broomstick, but was now riding around on Ron’s, hanging onto his waist for dear life. Ginny considered sketching in some of the Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws, but then she noticed her former beau Michael Corner snuggling with Cho Chang up in the air—it was enough to make her feel sick.

Glancing around the stadium, she was again drawn to the noble presence of Draco, as he flew regally above everyone else, calmly surveying the field for signs of the tiny golden Snitch. She watched as his dark robes fluttered majestically behind him as a light gust of wind repositioned his normally immaculate hair. She was mesmerized by the calm, blissful emotion she felt by watching his blond hair lightly tangling itself in the breeze. She had never seen him with his hair not slicked back—perhaps she had never really seen him playing Quidditch before. He carried a tranquil aura that seemed completely unanticipated of what Ginny would expect from a Malfoy.

She drew a dark and deliberate line on the paper, so that some of the charcoal crumbled into insignificant dust, which the wind immediately wafted away. She continued to sketch from the foundation of the line, meticulously detailing everything from the soft folds in his robes to the light outlines of his Quidditch muscles that she could barely see through the windy swells in his robes.

Looking critically at her drawing, she deftly smudged out some of the misplaced lines with her finger and drew more concise, unhurried lines. Throwing all concern about Harry’s headless body aside, she tenderly began to sketch Draco’s head. He was very pale and pointy, but to her the sharpness suggested his aristocratic atmosphere rather than the arrogance she typically associated it with. Lightly drawing the form of his head, she began to softly indicate where his features would be situated. Once she was satisfied, she again looked towards Draco in the sky, his hair gently blowing in the wind. She twirled her charcoal in her fingers for a moment before sketching a delicate arch, defining a moment of chaos in Draco’s hair. Biting her bottom lip, she smiled secretively as she painstakingly etched in the remainder of his light, wispy hair.

Stopping for a moment to admire her drawing, she almost wished she could feel Draco’s smooth hair and toned body for real—but similar to her picture, Draco seemed to evoke a sense of untouchable greatness that she, his greatest foe, would never be capable of knowing. The dark line of Draco’s broomstick still eminently stood out—she considered smudging it away and softening it, but then resolved not to. In a way, the unforgiving line reminded her again of how Draco was different from Harry and her friends. She was on the side of good, whereas he seemed to walk the fragile line between decency and corruption.

Feeling disheartened about how she would never be able to understand Draco, she decided to finish her drawing and go back to the castle. She had been outside for quite some time—the sun was moving down towards the horizon slowly and the sky was beginning to turn deeper shades of blue. Without caring about details, she quickly sketched in Harry’s facial features and wild hair. His hair was enjoyable to draw as well, but not to the same degree as Draco’s. Perhaps because she had seen Harry’s hair, day after day, and she could easily reach out and caress its untamed disobedience. In fact, it was probably her fault that Harry and she were not an item—he had finally come around to noticing her, but she now had difficulty imagining him as anything more than a friend.

Glancing up once again, she was surprised to see that neither Draco nor Harry was flying anymore. She frowned slightly as she saw Harry, Hermione and Ron walking idly towards the castle—they had left her behind. Disappointed, Ginny returned to her drawing and carefully began to darken the lines around Draco’s body.

“Is that what I really look like?” she heard an unmistakable voice inquire haughtily from behind her. Ginny felt her heart pound loudly in her chest as she suddenly felt very vulnerable. She had been discovered for drawing her greatest adversary by that very person himself. She turned around slowly, looking up timidly at a very self-satisfied looking Draco Malfoy. He smiled smugly down at her, but he did not seem to carry his normal air of superiority. At a loss for words, Ginny flipped her drawing so that it was face down and lowered her gaze towards the ground.

“No,” he started, reached around her trembling body to turn the picture right side up, “let me see it.” Ginny quavered uncontrollably as Draco sat down beside her and looked at her sketch of him. He seemed to comprehend the delicate strokes and the passion and energy that had gone into them. Reaching out to touch the severe, dark line she had drawn when she had started the sketch of him, he met her eyes and asked softly, “Why the harsh line?”

Ginny stared at him for a moment, still in shock at his almost caring behavior. “It’s a barrier,” she said quietly, referring to the unspoken obstruction that would forever separate Weasleys and Malfoys.

Draco tenderly looked at the drawing a moment longer, and then reached out to lift her chin up. Staring straight into her eyes, he solemnly asked, “Do you really think there needs to be a barrier?” She fixated her warm brown eyes upon his endless grey ones, falling into the icy cool expanse of his infinite gaze.

Looking down again, Ginny struggled to collect as much confidence as she could muster. She slowly looked up again into his eyes and reached out towards his silky hair. Running her fingers through his wispy, blond hair, he seemed to tilt his head and respond to her gentle movements. She looked into his eyes and whispered softly, “I don’t want there to be.”

She felt a warm tingle flow through her body as Draco soothingly caressed her soft skin. Perhaps he had wanted to end this ridiculous feud as long as she had. Sensing him shifting closer, she allowed herself to gradually move nearer to his face. She could nearly feel his warm breath on her face as she started to anxiously quiver in anticipation of what was to come. Suddenly, he paused abruptly, and gave her a meaningful look before gesturing to her drawing. Comprehending, Ginny carefully reached down and smudged out the dark line of charcoal, replacing it with a free, lively looking stroke, full of the newfound energy and vivaciousness that it had lacked before.

Setting down her charcoal, she smiled knowingly at Draco. She saw his face light up momentarily before he stretched his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She gazed up into his inviting eyes, wondering how it was possible to feel so welcome. Snuggling into his arms, she felt him tilting her head upwards towards his face. She delicately closed her eyes and stroked his back, as though she was lightly sketching with her charcoals. She felt Draco softly kiss her lips, sending a bolt of energy through her body. Letting herself counter his refined movements, she slowly melted into the serenity and fervor of their kiss. Caught up in the tenderness of the moment, she was only vaguely aware of him deepening the kiss, requesting entrance to her closed lips, which she promptly allowed. Their tongues lightly explored each other’s mouths, making Ginny feel as though they were eternally united through their soulful kiss.

Finally breaking away, Ginny met Draco’s eyes as she opened her mouth to convey the exultant emotions she was feeling. Understanding, Draco nodded as he drew his finger towards her lips to silence her. She gazed into the stunning sunset reflected in his eyes as she felt him pull her closer to his warm body. Smiling delightedly, she tilted her head to the side and contemplated his fine features. Wondering if was possible to replicate such splendor in a sketch, he swiftly embraced her affectionately and touched his lips soundly against hers, drawing her into another compassionate kiss.

A/N: Yay for fluff!! I had fun with this story.