A/N: Most warnings are for later chapters. This fic has been published by me before, but unfortunately got erased. There is a new chapter, so be patient. As always R&R!



Chapter One: Lonely Manor

Draco Malfoy woke up feeling as though he hadn’t rested. After trying for an hour to get back to sleep he admitted defeat. He sat up and pulled open the satin hanging of his four-poster bed. He gasped slightly as his feet hit the cool marble.

Drawing back the curtains of the large room, Draco saw rain pounding the ground outside. "Figures," he thought, glaring at the dark gray and moody sky. Draco got dressed then walked through the quiet manor toward the dining area.

Draco saw, at the other end of the table, the blonde head of his mother. He bowed at the waist and said, “Good morning mother. I trust you slept well.” Narcissa did not reply. Draco sat down and began to spread marmalade on his toast. He didn’t realize his mother’s silent tears until he heard a hearty sniff.

Draco dropped his toast and looked at his mother, concerned. “Mother, what is wrong?”

Narcissa wiped her tears away. “Your Uncle Truwen wrote to tell me that your father will be on trial soon to see if he’s going to get the…the…” she hiccoughed, then whispered, “The kiss.”

Draco got up and swiftly walked to the end of the table. He draped his arm around his mother’s shoulders and leaned close. “Mother, we must stay strong.” Draco sighed. “I cannot say what will happen, but we must continue living our lives.” Seeing that his words had little impact Draco stood up and said confidently, “Legal hearings take so much time, father will be freed by then.” Draco’s stomach jolted. He tried to shake away the feeling of dread that always arose at the thought of Lucius.

Narcissa raised her head proudly and wiped her tears away. “I apologize son. Please…sit.”

Draco groaned inwardly, but walked slowly back to his chair and took his seat. He chewed slowly on his toast, but his stomach grumbled in protest.

Narcissa kept glancing up at her son, checking his face for any weakness. Draco stared determinedly at his eggs, stabbing them unmercifully. He glanced out the window and realized, with a deep sigh, that it was raining even harder. After eating half of his breakfast Draco could not force anything else into his wriggling stomach.

“If you would please excuse me mother, I have other business to attend to,” he said, standing. He then gave a small bow and exited the cold room.

All summer Draco had let his feet carry him in circles. Everyday since break started he wandered the Malfoy Manor and it’s grounds. He thought of mainly one thing: Death Eaters. Unlike his mother, Draco knew of his father’s plans. He had been persistently pressed by Lucius to join, but Draco had always said he wished to wait until he was outside Hogwarts. Only Draco had a growing dread whenever he thought of the commitment and the burning of his left forearm.

Mr. Goyle had stopped by the house nearly every week to talk to Draco. Their talks were becoming less civilized, and Mr. Goyle seemed to realize Draco’s desire to join the Death Eaters was waning. He had impressed on Draco the advantages of joining, and he had not told of any more of the Dark Lord’s newfound plans. Draco figured the Dark Lord would soon free the incarcerated, but it was just a matter of when.

As Draco paced the extravagant (and very wet) garden his thoughts turned to Lucius. His heart seemed to drop to the pit of his stomach at the thought of what his father would do if he said, “I do not want to join, Father.”

"Would he use the Cruciatus curse on me? Or would my dear father disown his only son? Whatever he’d do, I am sure it would not be pleasant."

Draco shook his head and commanded his brain to think of something else. His mind drifted back to what his father had said the one and only time Draco and Narcissa were allowed to visit.

Halfway through the conversation his mother, highly distraught, rose and left. Lucius whispered to his son, “Don’t worry, Draco. Harry Potter will get what he deserves, as will his love.” At this time, though, the Dementors closed in around Lucius and Draco knew it was time to leave.

Draco pondered the meaning of his father’s words as the rain drenched him through and through. He didn’t understand who Harry’s love was supposed to be. He thought it could possibly be Cho Chang, but toward the end of last year the two seemed estranged.

"Unless father knows something I do not. He is one of the Dark Lord’s closest allies. Also, father has a glimpse inside Hogwarts through Professor Snape."

Draco smiled and looked up at the angry sky. Lighting flashed as Draco thought of potions class and the silent deal between himself and Professor Snape to give Saint Potter as much grief as possible. Draco actually missed Hogwarts, and compared to the loneliness of the Manor and watching his mother suffering silent tears, putting up with Potter, the Weasley, and the Mudblood would be relaxing.

Draco’s mind chased the same thoughts around all morning. He finally started feeling cold around noon and decided to shower, shave and clean up for another lonely luncheon with his miserable mother.

“Draco, darling, you’re positively soaked! Have you been outside this whole time?”

“Yes mother. I apologize if I worried you,” Draco said pushing his normally sleek hair out of his eyes.

“Well…clean up. Lunch should be ready soon.”

“Yes mother,” said Draco, bowing slightly and heading to his private bathroom. He took a long steamy shower, shaved, and dressed in dry robes. He left his hair loose and somewhat messy.

Draco bowed as he entered the dining area. “Good afternoon, Mother.” Food had already been laid before them. Draco sipped his tea, which felt very nice and warm, then began on his sandwich.

“I meant to tell you, Draco, that your Hogwarts letter arrived this morning in the owl post.” Misery fluttered across Narcissa’s face. She fixed an unconvincing smile on her face and added, “We shall floo to Diagon Alley in the morning to buy your supplies.”

“That would be great, mother,” replied Draco, forcing down the rest of his sandwich and tea.

“Oh, and also…Mr. Goyle will be dining with us tonight. He wishes to talk to you.”

Chapter Two: Ginny’s Prefect Summer


Ginny moaned as she rolled over in her very comfortable bed. She lay a few minutes tangled in the warm blankets. Looking out the window she saw a heavy stream of rain falling to the ground. She heard the voices of Ron and Harry heading downstairs. Looking to the other side or the room she saw Hermione pulling on a red jumper. While Ginny was leaving her warm bundle of sheets the doorbell rang.

Mrs. Weasley let out a scream of frustration as Mrs. Black began to shriek. “The blood traitor is gone, but still here are these nasty beasts! Mudbloods and werewo…” Just as suddenly as Mrs. Black had started screaming, she stopped.

Ginny got dressed in a loose fitting pair of jeans and a t-shirt. No doubt her mother would have them all cleaning again.

“Good morning, Ginny! You almost ready?” asked Hermione, putting gel in her wet, curly hair. Ginny grabbed a brush of the dresser and quickly put her flame-red hair in a high ponytail.

“Okay, ready.” She and Hermione stepped quietly down the stairs and into the kitchen. All around the table were Harry, Ron, Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, and the new arrival, Professor Snape. He was the only one not sitting down, and he looked very unpleasant and seemed to be in a rush.

“I will be attending to some business while waiting in the drawing room, Potter. Hurry with your breakfast and meet me there. I do not have all day to waste on you.”

Mr. Weasley gave a sympathetic look to Harry who merely nodded and mumbled, “Yes, Professor.” Once Snape was out of earshot, Harry turned to Ron, Hermione and Ginny and said, “Only one good thing about doing Occlumency twice a week.”

“What’s that?” asked Ron, obviously startled.

“Shorter lessons. It seems he gets nastier the more time you spend with him.”

All four of them smirked. Molly insisted that Harry finish a thorough meal before traipsing upstairs to have his mind broken into. Hermione, Ron and Ginny talked with their mother about all of the wonderful things they wanted to buy in Diagon Alley.

“I need a new broom if I am going to play chaser,” Ginny said. “I cannot outsmart the keeper on that snail. I would love to have a Nimbus…but a Cleansweep Eight would be really great too! Of course, I have been saving all my money up for a cat. It’s not nearly enough to buy the Cleansweep Eight anyway,” she said, sighing.

“Well, become Prefect and you can get one,” teased Ron.

“I’m not a prat like you!” Ginny retorted. She had always seen herself more like Fred and George than any of her brothers.

“Ginny…Ron, be nice,” said Molly casually. She was clearing the table of all the dirty dishes. After the entire table was cleaned, and when the subject of broomsticks had began to bug Hermione, a noise could be heard from upstairs. There was thud and then a man loudly spat, “Potter! Enough!”

Tonks rushed up the stairs, closely followed by Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. They all made it to drawing room corridor in time to see Snape walking wobbly on unstable feet and mumble something as he pointed his wand to his legs. He looked rather ruffled and angry.

“That was uncalled for, Potter. I don’t remember telling you to use the Jelly Legs jinx! You are to push me out of your mind, not jinx me!” hissed Snape venomously.

“I didn’t mean to…sir,” Harry apologized in an unconvincing tone. He was trying hard to suppress his laughter.

“Cheap shots like that will not get you far,” he huffed straightening his coat, and realizing, for the first time, the crowd he was drawing. He stood up straight and pulled something out of his pocket. “Here,” he said shoving some papers at Mrs. Weasley. “Their Hogwart’s letters…as well as,” he turned and shot daggers at Harry, “your supply lists. Dumbledore asked I deliver them since he will not be attending the meeting tonight.” He thundered down the stairs. “Good day,” he hissed as he slammed the door, which was Mrs. Black’s cue…

“Rotten, filthy, ingrates. No fit to practice magic. Bringing in Mudbloods…” Tonks and Mrs. Weasley, after handing Ron their letters, ran past all others to close the curtain to the perma-stuck portrait.

Ron began pass out the letters to his friends and sister. They each started reading the letter about the train leaving from Platform 9 ¾, but were distracted when Ginny let out a loud gasp and muttered, “No.” Lying in her hand was a shining badge with the Gryffindor colors and a “P.”

Everyone looked at her shocked until Ron said, “P is for prat, you know!”

“Congratulations, Ginny!” said Harry and Hermione. Ginny stared blankly down at her hand. She flipped the badge over in her hand many times, examining it, to make sure it was real.

“Come on, Ginny. Let’s go show mum,”

“But…I…me?” stammered Ginny. Ron grabbed Ginny’s arm and pulled her quietly down the stairs. Harry and Hermione followed, smirking the whole time at the surprised look on Ginny’s face.

“But he can’t make it tonight. At least, that’s what Severus said. I hope the Dementors aren’t joining You-Know-Who.” Molly was sitting at the table deep in conversation with her husband and Tonks. She looked up as the entered with an angry look on her face. “I thought I told you lot to start packing your trunks. What are you doing down here?”

“Oh, just thought we’d come and show you Ginny’s Prefect badge,” said Ron in an airy tone. Harry pushed Ginny between the shoulder blades so she had no choice but to move closer to her mom. She held out her shaky hand and stared at the badge. She then looked questioningly at her mother as if asking to explain. Molly did nothing of the sort. She leapt from the table and squeezed Ginny in a rib-breaking hug. Ginny tried to pull away and catch her breath.

“Oh, Merlin! I can’t believe this! I really can’t believe this! Congratulations, Ginny!” She hugged her daughter again nearly six more times before letting Mr. Weasley and Tonks have a chance. “Congratulations!” they both said, heartily.

Finally, the shock began to wear off and Ginny said, “I can’t believe Professor Dumbledore chose me! I never though I’d be a Prefect.”

“Well, we will have to have a special dinner tonight, in celebration. Then tomorrow we shall go to Diagon Alley to buy your gift!” said Mrs. Weasley. “Ooohhh!” she squealed excitedly, squeezing Ginny again.

“Good job, Gin,” said Harry, giving her a hug.

“Thanks.”

“It’s so wonderful,” said Hermoine, also hugging Ginny. “You’ll have great fun being a prefect!”

Chapter Three: Visiting Diagon Alley


Ginny awoke the next morning before the sun had barely risen. She quietly grabbed her clothes for the day and hopped into the shower. She knew she had some time to waste, so she stood under the steaming water thinking about the upcoming day. She had been saving mostly all of her money the past two years for a magical cat. “Hopefully not one as…unique as Crookshanks,” she mused, picturing his mashed up face.

Not only would she get her cat today, but since she had been made a Prefect, she also would be receiving a gift from her mother: a new broom. Even though the thought of being a Prefect somewhat scared her, the thought of a new broom relieved any fear. When she thought of getting both her cat and the broom in the same day she felt like running through the house screaming so everyone else would wake.

Knowing her mother would likely hex her if she woke everyone, Ginny took an extra long time getting dressed, brushing her teeth, combing her hair, and even put on some light make-up. The day seemed to be reflecting her mood, as the clouds of yesterday sat on the far horizon and the sun shone brightly.

Ginny looked in the mirror once more before making her way, very quietly, down the stairs help her mom with breakfast. There was someone in the kitchen, but it wasn‘t her mom.

“Harry?”

“ ‘Lo Ginny,” he mumbled, eyes focused on a burnt spot on the table.

“You alright?”

“Yeah…” Ginny raised an eyebrow in Harry’s direction. “Well, no. But there’s not really anything anyone can do. I had a dream last night…not anything to do with Voldemort.” Harry quickly added. Ginny, who had been giving Harry a severe look, winced slightly at the sound of You-Know-Who’s name. “It was about the Department of Mysteries. I keep reliving what happened. I know that there was nothing that I could have done to save Sirius…but I can’t help thinking, if I would have turned and shot a curse at Bellatrix…maybe he would still be alive.” He sighed.

“Look, Harry. I can’t say I know what you’re going through, but we all miss him. Sometimes bad things happen and you can’t stop them. Sirius died defending who he loved. You will see him again, but you have to live your life,” Ginny said compassionately. She hugged her friend as fully as a sister would. “They’ll all be in Azkaban with the Dementors soon.” She ruffled his already unruly hair.

“But…do you remember last night?” he asked, obviously remembering something he had wanted to tell her. “When we walked in and Tonks, your mom and dad were talking?”

“Well, kind of…I was still in shock.”

“They had said something about Dumbledore not coming to the meeting they had, and they said something about the Dementors being outside of Ministry control.”

“Out of Ministry control! We would have heard something!”

“I know. Well, Fred and George stopped by to talk to Ron and I last night. They said that they Dementors weren’t out of Ministry control yet…”

“Yet? But that sounds as though they could be leaving Azkaban at any moment!” exclaimed Ginny. She shivered, remembering the cold blue-grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

“I know. I guess Dumbledore and Hagrid left to search for some other creature to guard the prison. Also, the meeting did not go very well.”

“Wait, what meeting?” asked Ginny.

“They all had a meeting while we were packing our trunks last night. Snape came to give one of his ‘key reports.’ Everyone got upset at the news that he gave, and the meeting was called to close short and in disarray.”

“What news could have been so bad that it would cause that much of an uproar?” asked Ginny, once again concerned.

“Well, Fred and George said that it…”

“Ginny, Harry…dears. Why are you up already?” asked Mrs. Weasley, looking stern. Ginny’s stomach squirmed. By the look in her mother’s eye she had heard the later part of their conversation.

“Just couldn’t sleep any longer,” said Harry with a somewhat guilty look in his eyes.

As though punishing the two, Mrs. Weasley used an over-sugared voice and said, “Very well, then you may help me fix breakfast. It would be nice to have some help for a change.”

~


“Draco, I have explained this to you many times,” said the husky voice of Mr. Goyle. “With the members that were taken at the Department of Mysteries we are searching for new support. Lucius always said you were sure to join. I do not understand what is holding you back.”

“Mr. Goyle…I always told father that I wished to join /after/ Hogwarts. I have more in my future than serving the Dark Lord. I need to concentrate on my studies, and when and if I come to join the Death Eaters I will be…”

“If?” Mr. Goyle growled.

“I don’t know if I want to join,” mumbled Draco, looking to the floor.

“What do you mean!” yelled Mr. Goyle, rising from his chair. “You have to join!”

“I don’t know if that is what I want,” said Draco, stronger.

“But you have to! You have an important role to play in the new plan!”

“New plan? I haven’t even joined and you already are planning for me to do something?“

“Something…to someone…no matter. The Dark Lord is counting on you!” said Mr. Goyle, grabbing a hold of Draco by the upper arms.

“No, I won’t do it!” Draco screamed back in his face.

The scenery changed. He was now running through a dark forest. There were footsteps of a least two men chasing him. Scared for his life, Draco pumped his legs harder and harder. “I can’t let them get me,” he thought, looking back to see how far away the two were. He ran into something very thin, but solid, and fell backward. Looking up, he saw a cloaked figure towering over him.

“Hello Draco,” the man hissed. He tried to back away but before he could move he had four strong hands grasping his left arm. One pulled up the sleeve on his robe. He knew what was coming, and tried his hardest to break free, but the hands were too strong.

“Father…no,” gasped Draco, but the blue-grey eyes of his father were colder than Draco had ever seen them. The skin on his arm began to sting, and Draco saw a snake burning into the pale skin of his forearm.

“NOOOO!!!!!” Thud. Draco Malfoy opened his eyes to find he was lying on the marble floor of his room tangled in his bed sheets. He untangled his left forearm and looked at the whitish underside. “Nothing there,” he thought, wiping the cold sweat off his brow. He began to realize what had happened.

Meeting with Mr. Goyle had not been quiet as bad as in his dream. Luckily his mother had walked by to find Mr. Goyle manhandling and yelling at her son. She pointed her thin ash wand at him, and said frostily, “Mr. Goyle, get yourself out of my house, and stay away from my son.” Moments later a small “pop” was heard as Mr. Goyle apparated. Draco got up, then he flew past his mother and began wandering the west garden. He hadn’t brought himself to bed until nearly sunrise.

Tap tap. “Son?” a small voice called though the closed door. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine mother,” said Draco pulling himself off the floor. He walked over to the door and opened it slowly. “Good mor….” He began to bow, but was stopped by his mother’s frail hand on his shoulder.

“Son, please, I want to talk to you about last night.” Draco straightened, looking at her surprised. Narcissa always taught him to be proper and treat his parents with a certain degree of respect. This morning it seemed that she had pushed it all aside. He watched her walk elegantly past the fireplace and sit rigidly on the chintz chair nearby. Following his mother’s lead, Draco sat opposite her, gazing into her light blue eyes. She looked very grave.

“I know you and your father think I do not know what he and the Death Eaters do,” she started, carefully measuring her words, “but I am not naïve. The only reason I stay with your father is I love him, and I hope that one day he will come to his senses. I have to ask you, though, do you really want this?” Her eyes bored into his. Draco swallowed hard.

“I am very confused. Mr. Goyle told me that the Dark Lord already had plans for me. I don’t know what to do. I have always wanted to be like Father, and now I’m…it’s just…” Draco sighed. Being open about your feelings was definitely not a Malfoy trait. He stared into the empty fireplace.

“Darling,” Narcissa whispered, walking over to his chair and bringing herself level with him, “I see what you have been going through. I know you wander the Manor all alone, but I am here for you…what are you trying to say?” she questioned, gently grasping his hand.

“I am…” Draco’s voice had become a hoarse and croaky whisper. A lump began to form in his throat, but he held it back. “I am scared mother. I no longer want to be my father and…and it scares me to death. I do not know who I am anymore.” A single tear slid down his cheek, but he quickly wiped it away. Narcissa hid a small smile. This was the first time she had seen him cry, and it proved he was human after all.

“I feel weak,” he added, more forcefully. “Ever since my second year and what Father did to the Weasley girl I have wondered if maybe he had done wrong. The more I think about father being wrong…well the less I want to be like him…and the more alone I feel.”

“Draco, you are never alone,” said his mother, sternly. “You are slowly becoming your own person. It is a long road, but in the end your father will be proud.” Narcissa stood and took a few steps back, but still gazed intently at her son. There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Draco stood as well.

“I will get ready for our trip to Diagon Alley,” said Draco, standing.

“Yes,” said Narcissa, and she moved close to her son. He looked at her uneasily. She stretched out her arms and gave her son a loving hug. He stood stiffly as his mother clung to him. This was too much.

~

“Algol. And make sure ya give ‘em a small bowl a milk at least once a week. If not ‘e gets angry,” commented the withered witch to Ginny from behind the counter at the Magical Menagerie. “Tha’s twelve galleons.” Ginny took a small purse from her pocket and dumped the contents in the witch’s hand. “Thank ya.”

With her black cat in hand Ginny met her mother on the other side of the door. “His name is Algol,” she said, holding him tightly, as he seemed to want to squirm.

“Oh, he’s beautiful Ginny,” said Mrs. Weasley, shuffling her many shopping bags. “Where to next?”

“Well, I need to go to Flourish and Blotts to get my books as well as some new quills. After that we can /finally/ go to Quality Quidditch Supplies,” she added, smiling. Her mother sighed, obviously tired of all the shopping. It was nearly three in the afternoon and they had been at it since eleven. On top of that, the clouds that had sat on the horizon earlier that morning were covering the sun overhead.

“Let’s hurry, dear. It’s beginning to rain,” said Mrs. Weasley, rushing her daughter into the book store. No one seemed to mind the rain except for Algol, who hissed up at Ginny as though it was her fault.

Nearly an hour later, the two Weasley women made their way into the wet street. The rain was coming down much harder now. Ginny, who had dressed for a day of warm sunshine, tried to cover Algol with her arm, but it was little use. The cat was getting wetter and not liking it at all. Luckily enough, Quality Quidditch Supplies was a short distance away. They hurried through the door. Ginny looked around and said audibly, “Wow.”

This store was a lot more crowded than the others. Many people had come to see the new Nimbus 3000. “That broom is almost better than the Firebolt, right Daddy?” asked a small boy tugging on his father’s cloak. Ginny began to look at the different brooms on display. She led herself to the Cleansweeps knowing that the Nimbus 3000 would be far too expensive.

“Mother, this is the one,” said Ginny, pointing at the Cleansweep Eight. It was very polished and bore no signs of use or neglect.

“Well, I will get it for you. Why don’t you budge along. We will meet up and floo back home.”

“But…”

“Go on, Ginny,” she said more strictly.

Ginny tightened her grip on a squirming Algol and began her way back out into the rain. A very large man ran into her and passed on without an apology. The wiggling Algol broke free of her grasp and streaked down the road into Diagon Alley.

“Algol!” Ginny yelled, pelting after him.

~

“Your tea, Mr. Malfoy,” said one of Madame Malkin’s workers, placing a cup and saucer on the stand next to Draco’s chair. His mother was in a nearby dressing room getting measurements taken for some new robes. Draco, just having gone through the process himself, became rather bored.

“Thank you,” he said monotone. He drank the tea quickly and began to wander the shop. He was sick of being inside. They had been in here for nearly two hours. “Tell mother I will be outside. I will stay close by,” Draco told the worker as he handed her his cup and saucer.

The rain was falling quite heavy now. Draco breathed in the smell and messed up his hair, as the rain would do if he didn’t. He saw a red streak fly by him chasing after something. He realized this figure to be none other than Ginny Weasley. She had grown, and she was more shapely than he last remembered. She shoved through crowds and looked behind dumpsters. Draco wondered, “What in Merlin’s name is she doing.” He leaned against the wall on the very top stair.

Ginny had disappeared in a crowd of witches heading back toward Madame Malkin’s. Draco looked down and saw a black cat, soaked from the rain, hiding under the shelter of an open rubbish lid. He coolly walked down the stairs and picked up the creature. He meowed loudly, but began to purr as Draco scratched his ears.

“Algol!” he heard a frantic voice call. A second later the young Weasley stood in front of him in a soaked pair of shorts and a tank top. “I believe that cat belongs to me, Malfoy,” she said stiffly, pushing a wet piece of hair out of her face.

He looked her up and down before speaking. “Calm down Weasel. He obviously likes me,” he said, nuzzling the cat’s head with his. Algol purred even louder.

“Malfoy I’m warning you,” Ginny cautioned. Draco saw her hand lower to her pocket where a thin branch of wood was sticking up. After being on the receiving end of one of the witch’s bat-bogey hexes he reluctantly handed over the cat.

“You should be more careful with your pets,” he added coldly as he could, but her honey colored eyes had distracted him and his smirk came out as more of a smile. It was evident that Ginny was startled. She turned and started walking toward Flourish and Blotts, glancing over her shoulder at him every few steps.

Ginny watched Malfoy standing in the rain outside of Madame Malkin’s from the dirty window of Flourish and Blotts. She waited for her mother, Harry, Hermione, and Ron. She thought he looked rather depressed. He kept looking up at the sky as if he wanted it to answer an unasked question. He messed his hair up again, and Ginny smiled, feeling warm inside. He caught her eye and she quickly turned her attention to the door. Hermione, Harry and Ron were walking into the shop. A few minutes later, they were talking of their new supplies and wondering aloud who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would be.

The bell on the door jingled, but none of the group seemed to notice until they heard a voice drawl, “…raining again. How is shopping supposed to be fun in this weather?” Draco was standing by a tall woman with long blonde hair that Ginny recognized as his mother. His eyes met Ginny’s and they held each other’s gaze.

“His eyes aren’t nearly as cold as his father’s,” Ginny thought, unable to turn her eyes away from the depths of silver-blue. In the foreground Ginny saw his mother leave his side to look at the new books that had arrived.

“Malfoy, what are you doing here?” asked Ron in his most unpleasant tone.

“Ah…Potter, Weasley…Mu…Granger,” he said after pausing slightly, turning his nose a bit further in the air. “And if it isn’t the only girl Weasley,” he looked straight at Ginny, “and Algol,” he added, reaching out to pet the cat.

Ron barged in front of his sister. “What do you want Malfoy?”

Draco couldn’t refuse an opportunity this sweet. He got very close to Ron and whispered, “Just wanted to touch your sister’s pussy.” He then winked and walked away as Ron turned bright red.

“You bastard.“ Ron tried his hardest to go after Malfoy, but Harry held him back and Hermione grabbed his arm.

“Just ignore him Ron. You don’t need to get in trouble before we get to school. Your mother’s a lot worse to deal with than a week’s worth of detentions.”

“But…did you hear what he said about Ginny?“ asked Ron, still fighting to break free.

Ginny had heard what Malfoy had said and turned as red as her brother, but more out of embarrassment than anything else. She found his play on words rather amusing, and was still smiling. She loved the way his eyes twinkled when he winked. “Wait, what am I thinking. This is Malfoy,” Ginny scolded herself. “Let’s just look around a little bit while we wait for mum,” said Ginny aloud, but her voice was rather higher than usual.

“Fine! But if he says anything like that to you again, you come and tell me! Okay Ginny?” Ron asked, looking at his little sister with concern.

“Ron, I’m fifteen years old. I think I can look after myself,” she replied, rather heatedly. This wasn’t the first time Ron had played the ‘over-protective brother’ routine.

Ginny perused the shelves for anything that might catch her interest. She found a scarlet diary, which had a gold heart and thorns on the cover. She flipped through the pages and let the smell of freshly-bound parchment fill her senses. She looked it over, struggling to keep a hold of Algol. She dropped the diary, but swiftly bent over to pick it up. Right in front of her stood the strong, tall body of Draco Malfoy.

“Wha…” Ginny started in her somewhat high voice. She let out a soft “he-hem“ as she cleared her throat and then asked, rather bluntly, “What do you want?”

He looked at the cat and then the diary. “Just passing by,” he said innocently. Ginny raised her eyebrow at him. Draco felt his lip curl. “Fine, I wanted to apologize if I offended you, but I can’t give up the chance to upset your brother,” he said grinning fully this time.

“Why don’t you just leave us both alone,” she said rather coolly. She put the diary back on the shelf turned to walk away.

“Meow.” Ginny turned back and looked at Malfoy as though he had caused her cat to make the noise. He winked at her again and walked over to his mother.

After a few more minutes of walking around the store, and particularly avoiding Malfoy, Ginny saw her mother’s bright red hair over by the door. She walked over to her mother, very ready to leave. “Come on, you lot!” called Mrs. Weasley over the crowd.

Draco stared at the fiery red head as she stood by her mother, still soaked and rather chilly from the looks of things. He licked his lips as his eyes traveled to her hips.

“Darling, we have all of your books and quills. Shall we go on to get your potions supplies. By then our robes should be nearly ready.” Narcissa gazed at her son, who had his eyes on a girl by the fireplace.

“Yes mother,” he said rather vacantly. At that moment the girl looked up, and Narcissa recognized her as a Weasley. She cringed inwardly at the thought of her son being with a Weasley. She was reassured when the girl caught his gaze. She glared at him as though trying to set him on fire. Narcissa looked back at her son, who, for once, was smiling. He had the same roguish smile as his father.

“Come, Draco,” she said, pulling slightly on his arm. Her son pulled himself out of his daze, and they continued their shopping.