When you're so lonely, lying in bed
Night's closed its eyes, but you can't rest your head


Draco Malfoy lay on top of his bed in Slytherin dorms, with his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. It had been a long, satisfying day, complete with terrorizing some young first years, and taunting the mudblood Granger, much to the Weasel's chagrin. And now, with dusk throwing long shadows across the ceiling of his room in the dungeons (the only one with windows, thanks to his father's sway with the school), Draco was pensive.

It's another long lonely night, Draco Malfoy, in which to ponder the multitude of ways you can fail.

Draco's thoughts were familiar, and caressed him like a mother would stroke her sleeping child; gently, and fully emotive. He had nothing to gain from ignoring the way his thoughts wandered... Nothing to lose, either; unlike at home, where to allow his thoughts to meander in such fashion would be cause for much disapproval in the eyes of Lucius Malfoy. And how Draco longed for that approval.

Lucius loved him, this Draco knew without a doubt... But there had always been something that distanced Draco from his father; and he had never been able to quite grasp what it was. Perhaps it was that he tried too hard to be that perfect son, and Lucius sensed that he had not been given that perfect heir he so desired.

Yet, there was his mother, a bright spot in his life and the joyful beacon in his wandering existence.

He knew what some said; that she was snide, as cruel as her husband, and very detatched from other people... Well and so, let them believe it. He knew the truth; his mother loved him as much as Potter's sainted mother had loved the damned Wonderboy. Narcissa Malfoy was beautiful, and gentle with her son in a way that was belied by how she acted to the outside world.

The stupid Weasley prat had commented that she looked as though she had dung beneath her nose, and Draco could have killed him at that moment. He would never forget the sensation of his blood boiling, coursing through his veins like liquid fire, burning him to his core.

Lucius had said that the feeling of bloodlust was normal for a pureblood who'd just heard a woman of the same line insulted; it was not unknown for wars to have started in the past over the pureblood women. Quite like the Muggle story of the Illiad, Draco had mused aloud, a mistake to be sure. His father had raged for a while, and then thrown him from the room, not deigning to speak to his son for nigh on a month.

But Narcissa had comforted her son, and explained that Lucius had never felt the same for his mother as Draco felt for her. She informed him that his father had never received the open affection that she bestowed upon Draco.

And Draco deferred to his father, learning two things from the encounter. Never to let on that he cared more for his mother than Lucius for his; and never to let on that he enjoyed the occaisional Muggle literature.

Now, as Draco lay in his dormitory, faced with a task that he could scarce believe the enormity of, he thought of his mother. He would use this task to save her... He would complete it, and she would be safe. He would complete it and all would be well. Nothing could help him to do it, and that scared him... But he would do it, if for no reason than sheer desperation to save her.

A soft knock came at the door, breaking his reverie.

"Draco? It's me," Pansy's voice came filtering through the door, and he flicked it open with his wand.

"What is it, Pans?" His tone was soft, but she couldn't place the emotion that it conveyed.

"I just felt that you could use... Some food."

She held out a basket, brimming with food from the kitchens. She was always wanting to take care of him, and he loved and hated it simultaneously. It was what she felt was required of her, and he had done nothing in the past to dissuade her.

"Thank you," he said, sitting up, and patting the bed beside him, "I could use the company more, though, if you'd care to join me."

He would rather be alone with his thoughts, but she expected the invitation, and he knew his place well... Knew exactly what he was expected to do. Oh he knew, and was waiting for the day when he could finally shake off what was expected of him, and do what he had always dreamed of.

He would take the girl of his dreams to meet his mother... If the two of them hit it off, as he suspected they would... Well, that was the way it would go then. But it had to wait. He knew it had to wait. He had to hide his true feelings for the girl until this job was done... Until his mother was safe, and the girl was ready to hear the truth. Even if that day seemed unlikely to come.

Pansy made small talk, and then left. One by one the lights went out all over the castle, and Draco was again left to try and fall asleep, failing miserably in the midst of his fear and longing all assaulting him, until finally exhaustion overtook him, and sent him into an oblivious, dreamless slumber.

Everyone's sleeping, all through the house, you wish you could dream, but forgot to somehow, sing this lullaby to yourself. Sing this lullaby to yourself.

Ginny Weasley shook the sleep from her limbs as the streams of golden sunlight attacked her weary eyes with a vengeance.

"I didn't picture you as the revenge-seeking type, Mr. Sun," she muttered to herself, cursing the previous night's torrential attack of thoughts that had kept her awake far into the early hours of morning.

"Good morning, Ginny!"

Hermione Granger bustled into the room, cheerful and perky as ever. Her bushy hair and bright eyes definitely brought to mind Molly Weasley's favourite axiom, "Let's start the day off bright eyed and bushy tailed!"

"Morning 'Mione," Ginny got out through gritted teeth, managing to make it look like a smile, rather than the grimace she was forming mentally.

I hate you Hermione. How is it that you're such a morning person, and I feel as though I couldn't do much more than snarl at anything but a cup of coffee?

Ginny had little time to ponder the question, for Hermione plunked a coffee down on the bedside table, and flounced out of the room again, with nary a backwards glance at her friend.

I love you Hermione.

~*~

Hermione and Ginny sat with Harry and Ron at breakfast, and Ginny forced herself to pay attention to their idle chatter. Yet she couldn't help but find her attention focusing on the object of the thoughts that had preoccupied her the previous night. It was no help whatsoever, she mused, that said object was in clear vision at the moment, laughing regally at the Slytherin table. But there were lines on his face... Was he not sleeping either?

"...right, Gin?"

Ginny snapped back into reality as Hermione looked expectantly at her.

"Erm... of course," Ginny said, thinking no more of it as Hermione beamed at her and turned back to Ron and Harry.

I wonder what he's thinking about these days. He's always so... preoccupied. He never seems to focus on the people around him... He's so like Harry in that regard, though neither of them would appreciate me saying so.

As the other students filtered out of the Great Hall, Ginny left off her musing, and headed to the greenhouses.

As she walked she mused about her classes. She loved Herbology, almost as much as Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Charms. She was also a dab hand at Transfiguration, and was more than competent in Potions. She and Professor Snape had come to an unspoken agreement the previous year; he would belittle her attempts in class, but she would always be his best student in her year. There were just some things that one had to accept about life. The fact that Professor Snape hated Gryffindors was one such thing; the fact that she and Draco Malfoy would never be together was another.

Together? Where did that thought come from, you crazy girl? Why do you even think that you want him? You are just using him as a fantastical diversion from being caught up in Harry. That's all. End of discussion.



But you do want him.

It was as if her mind laughed at her, getting the final word in. She scowled and attacked the task Professor Sprout had placed before them with vigor. She was a Weasley, and she had entirely too much pride to be obsessing over a Malfoy; no matter what Lavender had said about his kissing skills.

And that was the whole story right there; Lavender had been raving about how wonderful Draco Malfoy was in all regards... The bad boy that everyone wanted to tame. Except her. She had no desire to tame him... She wanted to see where his adventure led him. And her, if he'd take her with him. She so wanted to go along for that ride.

Oh yes, he was a man worth waiting for... Just like Harry. But she'd nearly given up on Harry Potter by this time, and she knew that he was nearly in love with Hermione Granger. Of course, she was aware of how that would play out, as Ron loved Hermione too. And Hermione loved Ron... But also loved Harry. It was complex, and Ginny had no desire to be entangled within that mess.

She laughed at herself as she cleaned up her workstation in the greenhouse.

Oh yes, avoid that mess and end up in a larger one, lusting after Draco Malfoy, of all people. As if he would ever even deign to look at you... And yet, mayhap if you discover what he's preoccupied with, you can then help him... Not change him, never change him... But help him ease that constant fear that is written all over him.

~*~*~

Later that evening, Ginny sank down into a chair in the common room when Hermione came bursting in, looking flustered.

"Ginny, here you are! I've been looking all over for you! Did you forget?"

"Forget what?" Ginny asked, not in the mood to do anything but stare at the fire and think about Draco, much to her own chagrin.

"We're supposed to be dueling with Harry and Ron, remember? You promised you'd help us, this morning at breakfast."

Oh. That's what she was 'right'-ing me about. Best go to it.

"Sure. Let's go."

Unfortunately, the simple plan to help Ron and Hermione with their defensive spells was not to be so effective. The girls arrived at the Room of Requirement just in time to see Harry and Ron in a heated argument with none other than Draco Malfoy.

"I don't care what you're wanting to do, I want to use the Room," Draco snarled, quite uncharacteristically losing the aristocratic coolness that he had worked so hard to adopt.

"Well, we got here first. So bugger off, Malfoy."

That was Ron.

Harry had a deadly 'don't mess with me, I'm slightly crazy' look planted firmly on his face... The same one he wore right before a quidditch match.

I hate that angsty look of Harry's. Oh crap, he's going to do something he'll regret...

"Harry, the Transfiguration classroom is open," Ginny heard herself saying, looking only at Draco, whose steely grey eyes were fixed upon her own, "Let's just go there and let Draco use the Room."

A look of surprise flashed through his eyes as she used his first name, but none of her companions had noticed. Hermione was too busy agreeing vehemently, forcibly dragging Ron down the hall, and Harry was glaring at Draco.

As the four Gryffindors left, she cast a lingering look back at Draco, memories of a bat bogey hex being used on him, and smiled.

To her surprise, he smirked right back.

I'll be home Sunday, just in one week...

Dry all your tears when you start to weep, Sing this lullaby to yourself.

Draco's smirk remained firmly in place for the next day, even through Potions class, where he had been subjected to Harry 'Wonderboy' Potter becoming the top student, thanks to Slughorn being the new Professor. Draco didn't know how Harry had suddenly started topping both himself and Granger, but he was unconcerned with that, there were much worse things in life than bad grades. And much better things than good ones, he thought, remembering Ginny's quiet defense of him, and her use of his name. It sounded so... Delicious, rolling off her tongue.

"What's with you, mate?" Blaise looked at his friend with some concern. It was rare that one would see Draco smiling genuinely, and for longer than a few minutes was definitely odd.

Draco bit his tongue to avoid an uncharacteristic gush about the youngest Weasley. He recalled in the nick of time that Blaise was the one whom Pansy had noted liked the look of Ginny.

Well, who can blame either of you? She's a firecracker, that one. A burst of energy... She definitely looks good, and from the rumors I've heard, she's a hell of a kisser.

Instead of saying all of this to Blaise, however, he merely smirked wider, and told him of how Ron had been dragged away from the Room of Requirement the previous night by the Mudblood.

Laughing quietly, Blaise then started talking about the true reason for Draco's smile... Ginny Weasley.

"I have it all figured. I'm going to send flowers... Anonymously of course, and then I'll follow it up with a sappy note... Asking for a reply with my owl. It will escalate, and then I'll ask her to meet me somewhere... And then, I'll pull the old 'I don't want to be bad anymore' line. Girls always go for that one, hey Drake?"

Draco merely nodded. His smile was quickly disintegrating, and his blood was beginning to boil at the thought of someone else touching his Ginny. Especially when that someone was as sleazy as a Zabini.

Your Ginny? Since when...? And Zabini is your friend. Practically the only one you have.

"So," Draco drawled, twirling his quill in his fingers, "After you add the Weaselette to your list of conquests, what will you do?"

"Hadn't thought of it, to tell the truth. First things first, y'know?" Blaise turned away from his friend, as Slughorn started looking over the potions.

"Indeed," Draco murmured to himself, valiantly ignoring the excited professor's praise of Potter.

~*~*~

"Who are the flowers from, Gin?" Hermione asked, perching upon the edge of her friend's bed.

"Oh, you know, my latest secret admirer," Ginny laughed, continuing to arrange the hyacinth and lilies.

"Well, whoever it was was set back a pretty penny."

"True. But whoever it was knows that the way to a girl's heart is not through being a cheapskate," Ginny said pointedly, and both girls smiled.

"Does Dean know about these?"

Ginny angled her head and studied Hermione.

"I don't think he needs to," she said finally. "He's been so... Possessive lately, and I don't like it."

"Understandable."

Leaving off the subject of the flowers, the girls left the dormitory and went to the common room, where Harry and Ron awaited them. It was time for Hermione to head to another of Slughorn's parties, and the others to head to Quidditch practice.

Hermione was aware of Harry's ploy to avoid the "Slug Club", yet managed to be only slightly resentful of the fact. Ginny was just excited to have an excuse to avoid her thoughts of Draco Malfoy.

Unfortunately for her, he was proving hard to ignore. When the Gryffindors assembled on the Quidditch pitch, there he was, sitting smugly on the bleachers, a Slytherin flag in his hand.

Before anyone else could go say something to the blond, Ginny had stormed over to where he sat. It was infuriating enough that he haunted her thoughts, did he have to be there in reality too?

"What, pray tell, are you doing here?" She bit the question out, but Malfoy was unfazed.

"Well, Weaselette, I thought I would come watch you fly. I've heard you ride a broom well."

Ginny desired nothing more than to wipe the smug grin off of his face with sheer force, but maintained her cool; a retort flying off her tongue with practiced ease. One isn't the youngest sister of 6 brothers without learning quick and easy banter.

"I've heard the same about you, Malfoy." The smirk on her face rivalled his own trademark one, and he couldn't help but think that it looked incredibly hot.

By this time, the Gryffindors had gathered to watch what would happen when their rather feisty red-head tangled with the insufferable blond Slytherin. Ron let out a muffled squawk of laughter as Draco smiled at the youngest Weasley, undaunted by her suggestion.

"Were I to choose to, it's doubtless that my skill would be reknowned, as it is for... Other areas."

Ginny felt herself flush as he slid his gaze over her and smiled.

"Okay, Malfoy, get to the point," Harry snapped, "why are you here?"

"If you must know, I came to warn Ginny to watch her back; not all secret admirers are admirable."

With that, Draco stood gracefully and strolled back to the castle, not bothering to look back.

"What the hell did he mean by that?" Ron's confusion was evident on his face.

"Probably nothing," Ginny said. "So let's get on with this practice. Why waste our time on that ferret?"

As her teammates took to the air, Ginny couldn't help but ponder, however, how it was that Draco Malfoy knew something she didn't about this new secret admirer.

Later that evening, Ginny found herself watching in horror as Ron swapped spit with Lavender Brown... Right in front of Hermione.

You fool, Ron. You're so dense. Can't you see what this is doing to her?

And indeed it was doing something horrible to Hermione. She hadn't cried herself to sleep since the time that both Harry and Ron had stopped speaking to her in their third year.

"Gin... Did I do something wrong?"

"No, 'mione. He's the one doing something wrong. But if I know my brother, he thinks he's justified, for some reason or another. He probably figures that you snogged Krum so he should get to snog someone..."

A choked sob escaped Hermione, who didn't know what to say to that.

"Really though, if you look at how he was eating her face, you'd probably be better off if he DID practice with someone like Lavender... Then when he kisses you, he'll be good at it."

Ginny suppressed the shudder that came with the idea of her brother kissing anyone.

"But... but Harry's not mad too, is he?"

Ginny sighed, glad to be on easier ground to think about, although her heart gave a mournful twang.

"No, Harry wouldn't care; he knows that was then... And you're not still snogging Krum now, so what would he care? It's not like he hasn't kissed before either. Remember Cho? What a horrible experience THAT was, hey?"

Once she had Hermione sufficiently mollified, Ginny returned to her own room and threw herself face first on the bed.

Damn it, Hermione, you have TWO wonderful guys who love you. And then there's me... I can't even get a not-very-wonderful guy to love me. Not that I'm trying.

What would happen if I DID try though?

And with those thoughts, Ginny Weasley fell into a restless sleep.