Ginny rose and dressed carefully that morning. It was the fourth Monday in October. October would always be one of her favourite months; to her it was fall with its characteristic smell of dry leaves and brisk autumn air that made her cheeks glow red with the slightest exercise. This school year, she needed this sense of normalcy more than ever given her current—unwelcome—situation.

Ginny hated the circumstance she found herself in. She disliked it immensely. There was no fun to be had anymore, nothing to enjoy and no one to chase or be chased by, which was the real fun. It was perhaps for the best then that this new “incident”, as her family had started calling it, had happened. It added some variety to an otherwise boring sixth year. What was it her mother’s letter had said? The family owl, Errol, had arrived a few days into the school term.

Ginny, dear,

Professor Dumbledore has just told us of your awful predicament. —

Ginny had rolled her eyes at her mother’s exaggeration.

How dreadful it must be for you, dear! Not to be able to touch boys. What will poor Harry think? (Don’t worry, we know all about your little “relationship”). Your father says it should teach you some self-control. Ron has been reporting that you’ve been a bit… loose with the boys you know. Professor Dumbledore didn’t provide me with all the particulars but he’s said that the “incident” acts as similarly to a Muggle alarm system except that you suffer as well. Your father’s completely tickled about that. He wanted to Floo to Hogwarts just to see how the new you works! That man will be the death of me.

Ginny, love, he also stressed how important it was that you stay away from boys for the duration. He and Professor Snape (although I’ve never fancied the man, he seems to be decent enough now) are working on some sort of treatment. They don’t know what it is that’s caused this, whether a curse or some sort of charm. I swear to Merlin, if Fred and George have had a hand in this, I’ll flay them alive. Until they find a cure, Ginny dear, remember to do your homework, eat your vegetables and stay away from boys!

Love,
Mum


Ginny had almost memorized the letter and a fat lot of good it had done her. Dumbledore told her mother the same things he’d told her, which wasn’t very much information. Unless her mother was hiding something and Ginny doubted very much that she was, they were both in the dark. She didn’t know very much about what was happening to her, only that it threw a great wrench into whatever plans she might have had for dating this year.

Ah well, she said to herself, the best laid plans often go awry, after all. She donned her Gryffindor robe and rucksack and hurried down the staircase into the emptying common room. She checked her watch – it was a quarter past eight – she was late again. Dean graciously held the portrait open for her and she smiled at him, reflecting on how nice it was to have boys being chivalrous without trying to get inside her knickers.

All the boys she had had to deal with before had been gropers who’d tried to cop a feel more often than not. It had annoyed her to no end. The main benefit of her situation was that none of those boys, no boy at all in fact, could get close enough to put their grabby, grubby hands on her. Anyone who got close enough to touch her immediately received an electric shock for their efforts. Not enough that they got shocked, which was all well and good for them, Ginny thought, but the pain that Ginny felt – a sharp pain at the point of contact that was similar to a Stinging Hex in feeling and strength – made it worth staying away from boys for the time being.

Anyone who touched her, excepting her family members, received a low voltage buzz. Harry couldn’t kiss her, but not for a lack of trying. The magic didn’t count him as family so any contact he made with Ginny got the same results as the other boys. That he wanted to be able to touch her as family, yet snog her at the same time meant he was rather confused about what the term family meant.

She entered the Great Hall intending to grab a quick breakfast – toast with a goblet of pumpkin juice – but halted at the edge of the Gryffindors, noticing a commotion at the Slytherin table. It seemed Malfoy was having an incredibly horrendous public break-up with Pansy Parkinson and the pug-faced witch was having none of it. She was red in the face as she tried to control her temper while Draco calmly told her in no uncertain terms that if she chose to sleep with half the Slytherin Quidditch team, then she chose not to be his girlfriend.

“What kind of fool did you take me for, you silly girl? Malfoys don’t tolerate infidelity,” he said in a particularly sedate tone.

Colin Creevey, who had come to stand beside Ginny, suddenly realized who he had been standing next to and looked at her fearfully before edging away as quickly as he dared. Ginny looked at him and rolled her eyes, annoyed at his deliberate avoidance and by his spinelessness, then wondered why she credited Colin Creevey with a spine in the first place.

The boys of Hogwarts had taken to giving Ginny an exaggeratedly wide berth whenever she entered a room, save a (positively delightful) few who took the opposite route.

It began as a dare among the older boys – who could get close enough without getting shocked. Who could touch her arm, her face, and even on one occasion a particularly brazen youth had attempted to touch her derriere. So Ginny, in between feeling rather like Moaning Myrtle in first year, had become used to being accosted by random blokes who insisted on grabbing some part of her anatomy.

At the end of one trying day, Zacharias Smith had approached her in the hallway asking if he could touch her breast and that had been the last straw. Ginny had promptly hexed him with her best Bat Bogey and the boy had run off howling to the Hospital Wing. After that, the boys preferred to sneak up on her.

The rump roast incident (as Ginny privately liked to call the extreme shocking of the bloke who’d touched her arse — she’d never seen someone glow so brightly!) had only happened last week. That one had hurt more than usual; apparently the potency of the stinging was affected by which part of anatomy was breached. The boy, Michael Corner of all people, was still lying in the Hospital Wing recovering from his injuries. Ginny was upset at him, she had been afraid he might never fully recover and all, but her sympathy wore off when she discovered the angry red welts that later sprang up on her backside.

Parkinson had stalked out of the Great Hall in high dudgeon, after whispering something furiously in Malfoy’s ear, and looking remarkably like Hermione when Ron was being a total prat. The difference was Ron suspended his insensitivity every once in a while whereas Malfoy was a full-time prat.

She continued to look at Malfoy after the fuss had died down. His cheeks were faintly pink, which was odd considering he hadn’t been shouting, or even looked remotely angry but his normally sleeked back hair was tousled.

He let it fall into his face unchecked and seemed to be focusing intently on his breakfast. A sudden thought occurred to Ginny, that Malfoy looked rather fetching when his hair wasn’t an ad for Sleekeasy Hair Gel. Also, the pink in his cheeks made him look almost human, less like a cold-blooded reptile. Ginny was so caught up staring at him, she didn’t notice when the rest of the table moved to go to classes.

Malfoy still stared resolutely at his bowl of porridge, not moving with the rest of his house. He was breathing heavily, Ginny realized and she stood amidst the rushing crowd that seemed to avoid her deftly and watched him. She didn’t bother to move to get out of anyone’s way. Ever since September they all seemed to get out of hers. Malfoy looked up slowly as the Great Hall emptied and his eyes collided with hers. The rush around her seemed to cease as Ginny looked at him and the Great Hall melted away as she focused on the blonde Slytherin sitting two tables away.

A slow smile spread across her face as it dawned on her that this year might not be as boring as she’d predicted. Not at all, she thought mischievously, if Malfoy were willing to cooperate. Ginny was sure she was scaring some people with her un-Gryffindor like smirk, but they already avoided her like the Hog’s Head bar so that was nothing new. Besides, inside her head a plan was already formulating.

It may have lasted one minute or five but he was the first to look away, and swept his things up impatiently, striding out of the Hall a few seconds later. Ginny grinned nefariously and followed the other sixth years out into the corridor to walk up to the Charms corridor. She was inordinately pleased for the rest of the day, even allowing a snot-nosed fifth year a whole minute to toy with her hair before yelling at him to get away from her or else.

It wasn’t as if that toying with her hair would count as touching her, anyway.

****

Draco Malfoy had decided he wasn’t in a good mood. No, he most definitely wasn’t in a good mood. Today, the first day of the fourth week of October had begun horribly. He was sure that Pansy had planned the Great Hall debacle just so she could get off Scot-free in the eyes (and ears) of the Hogwarts gossips.

The night before he had quietly and rationally broken up with her, rather than continuing the sham of a relationship they’d had. Pansy had been carrying on an illicit affair with Theodore Nott for the last two months of their relationship. It stung Draco, more so because she wasn’t discreet about her infidelity than because she was unfaithful in the first place. At least that part of his allegations had been true. Last night the world had seemed easier. Last night he was sure that he could have just broken it off with Pansy without any consequences. Last night he hadn’t had Ginny Weasley staring at him from across the hall like the cat that ate the bloody canary.

Draco ran a hand over his face in tired frustration. That Pansy had the gall to yell at him and make him a public spectacle was frustrating enough, but she’d also twisted the facts, making him appear the one at fault. Draco had no problem being the bad guy, but not when it came to relationships. He was always fair when it came to his girlfriends; he’d broken up with Pansy nicely hadn’t he? Merlin, what else did she expect? Sapphires? Diamonds?

Pansy’s tantrum however was now the least of his worries. Just before she left the Great Hall (and thoroughly spoiled his appetite in the process — what was it with girls and excessive perfuming?) she’d whispered something in his ear.

“Fine, Draco,” she’d hissed, “Now that I’ve dumped you my way, you can have that untouchable Gryffindor bint you’ve been drooling after. What ever happened to that mask of yours, Ice Prince?”

He’d sat still, seething at her words and staring down his porridge, swearing he could see its surface ripple from the force of his anger. Instead it just turned out that Crabbe was kicking the table a few feet down, but still, Draco was that upset. Draco was still angry with her, angry and a little frightened. He’d been read so easily, and by Pansy no less. Admittedly, he’d dated the girl for five years so she should have some insight into his psyche, but it still burned knowing he was so easy.

After that, he refused to look up at anyone, because he knew his eyes would stray to the Gryffindor table where they’d strayed for the past month. No wonder Pansy had noticed; he wasn’t exactly being discreet about this.

He liked the colour red now; red with cinnamon freckles. He’d first noticed the colour two years ago when he’d held her in Umbridge’s office. It had smelled like leaves and autumn even while wriggling furiously beneath his chin. He hadn’t noticed her again until a few weeks ago in the corridors after classes in the evening. It had been gray outside, he remembered because her flashing hair had stood out in the absence of colour. She had whirled around angrily and hexed a pointy-faced Hufflepuff sixth year for touching her arse.

Draco had laughed at the stricken look on the boy’s face. Having been victim to the famed Bat Bogey in his fifth year, Draco understood but didn’t sympathize with the boy. Instead, he’d retreated to the Slytherin dungeon and thought about red with cinnamon freckles all night.

Now as he sat immobile in double Potions with another – more unfavourable – set of Gryffindors, he thought about the look Weasley had given him at breakfast. She’d smirked at him. Weasley had smirked at him Draco Malfoy. Her smirks were pretty scary too. Draco hadn’t seen a smirk that intimidating since last year when Blaise Zabini smirked at the third year that had spilt pumpkin juice all over his robes. The poor Ravenclaw still had stains on her blouse from the Permanent Staining Charm Blaise had used.

She was bored lately, he noticed and was promptly annoyed that he had noticed, For Merlin’s sake, it was bad enough he liked the colour of her hair. At least it wasn’t something she shared with her brother. Most people assumed it was the same shade of red, but Draco had seen hers up close and it was an entire shade darker. Nothing as common as her oaf of a brother’s.

She was bored, and he missed the spark that had flared in her eyes when she hexed the Hufflepuff. That spark had looked distinctly Slytherin, the kind of spark that promised vengeance swiftly and without mercy. The girl could get his blood boiling from across the room without even paying attention to him. It appeared however, that he had attracted her interest. With that new thought, Draco pondered how he’d confront her about that smirk at breakfast.

The bell rang for morning break before he knew it, and the class filed out hurriedly, unwilling to spend any more time than was necessary in the dungeon. Draco followed at a more leisurely pace, his thoughts still wrapped up the smirking redhead.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape called from his desk at the front of the class, “A moment if you please.”

Draco turned on his heel and regarded his favourite professor warily. Did the Potions Master suspect something as well? Judging from the raised black eyebrow, Draco surmised that Snape indeed had a hunch of what was preoccupying his mind lately. Well, he had to give the old man points for astuteness.

Snape motioned for Draco to take a seat when he’d reached Snape’s desk and Draco sat, crossing his ankles and staring at his professor intently. Snape looked at Draco without moving and the boy began to fidget, his eyes flickering to the various menacing potions ingredients that adorned the walls behind the Potions Master.

“I want you to accompany Professor Dumbledore and myself to visit Ms. Weasley in the Hospital Wing this afternoon,” Snape said finally.

Draco’s sense went on alert.

“She’s in the Hospital Wing?” he blurted out, before he could stop himself.

Snape gave a ghost of a smirk. Damn, Draco thought, now he knows for sure.

“No, Mr. Malfoy, not at present. She reports there every Monday for check-ups with Madame Pomfrey.”

“Why should I be there?” Draco asked, slipping back into his usual nonchalance. Snape acknowledged the change in demeanour with no more than a glance.

“Because, Mr. Malfoy, I believe the experience will be beneficial to both of you.” And on that enigmatic note, the Potions professor waved Draco out of the dungeon.

The rest of the morning passed listlessly for Draco. After the break he had Charms with the Ravenclaws. Professor Flitwick was telling them about charms that lasted through generations. Blood Curses, he called them. It was dead boring stuff, but the old man seemed to like it and went on and on about them during class.

“Once a Blood Curse is cast,” he said in his squeaky voice “it is recorded by the Ministry of Magic in their official records. Blood Curses are powerful bits of magic requiring the invocation of an ancient and strong – usually pureblood –family line. These curses last through generations, usually until the terms that began the curse are ultimately reversed.”

Draco though that this branch of magic dealt too closely with the past. He disliked thinking about his past, preferring to forget it for as long as possible until he had to dredge up bad memories.

Even though Professor Flitwick had mentioned ‘pureblood’, a word that usually sparked Draco’s interest, he still found himself looking desperately forward to the end of classes. If he’d cared to look a little closer at his impatience, he’d have noticed that what he really wanted to see was Ginny. But, as it was, Draco was staunchly avoiding this line of reasoning because, well, because he’d rather not admit to himself right now that he actually wanted to see a Weasley, so his impatience stemmed from boredom alone.

Professor Flitwick seemed reluctant to oblige Draco’s desires, so he listened with half an ear as the man droned on about how closely magic and genealogy were entwined. Sooner than expected, but later than he’d like, the bell rang to signal the end of classes. It was only with the greatest effort of will that Draco refrained from rushing out of the classroom and straight to the Hospital Wing to see her. He purposely measured his steps, making sure he didn’t go any faster than his usual bored pace but he still reached the infirmary a whole five minutes before either of the professors.

Shrugging, and a little annoyed at himself, he pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped inside. Closing them behind him, he looked up and noticed Ginny sitting on one of the beds farthest from the door, half hidden by a curtain. She was short so her legs swung over the side, toes barely skimming the floor. She was leaning back on her hands, but most of her dark red hair was hiding of her face. Draco could still see her pert nose and her left cheek, both scattered liberally with the cinnamon freckles that Draco had grown so fond of.

Her school robe lay discarded on a chair beside her and her blouse was partially opened, having just had some sort of examination performed on her, no doubt. Still, it afforded Draco an unrestricted view of her neck and shoulders and the top part of her chest. Unsurprisingly, the latter was covered in freckles, so much so in fact that Draco wondered if every inch of her skin was dusted in the things. He hoped so. It would be harder to tell a hickey different from a natural mark.

Not that he was thinking about giving Weasley a hickey! He was thinking no such thing. A moment later, when she shifted and her blouse moved to bare even more of her torso, Draco’s breathing quickened. He scoffed quietly to himself. No such thing, indeed. He was hopelessly and besottedly smitten. The least he could do was make sure she was appropriately smitten too. With that new plan in mind, he strode forward and dropped his bag noisily on the floor beside her robe.

****

Ginny blew the hair obscuring her vision out of her face with a puff of air. She smirked devilishly as she noticed Draco Malfoy striding towards her with a not-too-pleased look on his handsome face. She’d always found Draco fetching, as far as looks were concerned, and now that he’d forgotten the litres of hair gel that often resided in his hair he really was quite the handsome fellow. Still, he would be fun to chase, even if she couldn’t touch. It would have to be for the thrill of the hunt rather than the capture.

All of a sudden Madame Pomfrey walked in and began fussing over Ginny like a mother hen. Oh bother, Ginny thought impatiently, this damned illness will keep everything topsy-turvy for ages. She’d forgotten about it momentarily, and was enjoying the way her mind was drifting towards images of Draco in rather compromising positions.

“Thinking about me naked, Weasley?” Draco whispered, as soon as Pomfrey’s back was turned. Ginny blushed scarlet as Draco’s words hit home and he smirked at her gloatingly.

“And why are we so graced with your presence, Mr. Malfoy? Not here to cause trouble I hope,” asked the Mediwitch turning around primly, hands resting on her plump hips. Draco scowled at her and resettled his robes before replying. Ginny rolled her eyes at his all too feminine motion.

“As it would happen, Madame Pomfrey, I’m here at the request of Professor Snape and the Headmaster.”

“Leave him be, Madame Pomfrey, I’m sure all he wants is attention. Maybe if we ignore him, he’ll go away.”

It was Ginny’s turn to smirk at Draco’s scowl and she watched with growing anticipation as he pulled up a chair and sat on it backwards facing her. Draco rested his chin on top of his hands along the back of the wooden chair and watched Ginny closely. She sat up properly and buttoned her blouse but left her hair falling in front of her face.

“What are you really doing here?” she asked again.

Draco looked at her sharply. “What if I told you I was tired of all those boys grabbing you? What if I told you I wanted to find a way to stop it?”

Ginny snorted. “Not bloody likely.”

Draco smirked. “You’ve got a mouth on you, haven’t you?”

Ginny rolled her eyes, and then grinned as a sudden thought hit her. “Draco Malfoy, if you want to get those boys to stop, all you’d have to do is announce in the middle of the Great Hall that I’m under your protection. No one would dare bother me then.”

She smirked at Draco’s sudden incredulous look, quickly replaced with a scowl that darkened his face. He glared at her then and she laughed outright, clutching her sides at the absurdity of the picture. Draco continued to glare at until Ginny’s laughter subsided and his face cleared while she hiccupped.

Neither spoke after that, but they continued to look at each other, each trying to decipher the thoughts flying across the other’s mind. Wild, half-formed thoughts of red hair and blond; freckles and skin as pale as moonlight. Crimson red splashed against emerald green and sterling, sterling silver. Ginny wondered how she would get Draco to touch her, hold her, or at the very least, speak to her for five minutes without throwing insults.

Draco wondered how best to get the annoying red-headed (attractive) brat out of his system.

As he looked though, he kept getting sidetracked by the glint of her red hair in the sunlight through the window and the way her eyes danced with every new thought. He noticed the laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and her lips that seemed to hand out insults and compliments in the same breath.

They stared and stared without wondering about the time or the absence of the adults. Some time later, it may have been five minutes or ten, the doors swung open for the second time since Ginny’s visit began and in walked a figure clad in purple robes followed by another clad in black.

“Ah, Mr. Malfoy, so glad you could join us. Ms. Weasley’s illness is rather interesting, is it not?”

Draco sprang to his feet upon their entrance. Rather interesting, he echoed, puzzled. Was he talking about a wart on someone’s nose or a girl’s sickness?

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t quite follow,” Draco said, trying to clear his head.

“Ah, my boy, my boy,” Dumbledore continued, ignoring Draco’s remark. “Poppy! Could you come here for a minute, please?”

Madame Pomfrey bustled out of her office and stood protectively beside Ginny. Draco continued to look at the Headmaster, who was beaming at Ginny. Behind him, Professor Snape’s expression seemed bored.

“Any news?” Professor Dumbledore inquired kindly of the Mediwitch.

“Nothing new to report, sir. All’s the same as it was last week,” she replied promptly. Dumbledore nodded serenely and motioned for her to continue. Pomfrey waved her wand and Summoned a medical chart from her office.

“Blood pressure’s normal. There are no abnormalities in her blood, brain or heart. Her lungs, kidneys and other internal organs are functioning perfectly. She’s the picture of health, Professor.”

Except she can’t come in contact with anyone of the male persuasion for fear of sending them into cardiac arrest, Draco added quietly and a little sarcastically.

“Yes, yes,” Snape interrupted impatiently. “We know all that. Have you examined her blood thoroughly?” he asked, trying a different tack.

Pomfrey stiffened indignantly. “What exactly do you mean, Professor?”

“For any enchantments or charms? Perhaps one of her brothers has done this to her.”

To the left of Draco, Ginny bristled at Snape’s insinuation. She opened her mouth to retort but the Headmaster swiftly intervened.

“Now, now, Severus, I highly doubt that is the case. And, if it were, they would have owned up to the mischief by now.”

Snape said nothing but continued to look unconvinced while Dumbledore convened privately with Pomfrey a little ways off. Draco sat down again and exchanged a glance with Ginny. She looked amused at first but then her gaze drifted to Snape, who was still looking sour, and she scowled. Draco thought she looked rather amusing when she scowled. Very much like a small child who had been denied a treat. He smirked when she began glaring at an oblivious Professor Snape.

Professor Dumbledore returned to them and spoke quietly with Professor Snape for a few moments, ignoring Ginny’s attempts to set Snape on fire by sheer force of will. Dumbledore turned to Draco and Ginny.

“Mr. Malfoy, thank you for visiting Ginny today. I‘m sure this experience has been for the best. Might I remind you to pay attention in your classes, Mr. Malfoy? Professor Flitwick has complained of your inattentiveness in his lecture on Blood Curses and Wizarding Genealogy. I suggest you do some extra research on the topic, so as not to be left behind.”

With blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles the Headmaster took his leave, followed by Snape who paused to look at Ginny and Draco together. Draco shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny and avoided all eyes in the room. Ginny did not seem to have a similar problem, and she boldly stared at Snape as he observed her.

After he left, Draco got to his feet and took up his bag but hesitated before turning to leave. Ginny watched him expectantly but he gave a curt nod, out of politeness only, of course, and left immediately.

Draco hurried on his way to the Slytherin dungeon, forgoing dinner to have some time alone. All the way there he kept thinking about Dumbledore’s last words. The man was nothing if not mysterious and not-a-little barmy either. Still, Draco was sure those last words meant something. He thought all the way to the common room and murmured the password distractedly.

When he got to his room, he dropped his bag by his trunk and collapsed on his bed, still deep in thought. Hours later, he wasn’t sure of the time only that it was pitch black and eerily quiet, his eyes flew open. I’d fallen asleep, he thought frustratedly and dragged a tired hand over his face. Someone had drawn his hangings closed. Gregory no doubt; he was always doing things like that for Draco. I must remember to say thank you sometime, he thought abstractedly.

All was still when Draco sat up and swung his legs over the side of his four poster bed. He felt for his wand up his sleeve out of habit and performed Warming and Silencing charms before leaving the dormitory. He slipped out, unnoticed by the four other slumberers given up to their dreams.

Draco had never been able to sleep a full night. An insomniac from birth, he was used to nocturnal wanderings and living in the moonlight. This time, however, he had a purpose and, following Dumbledore’s instructions, he headed to the library. Draco cast a Disillusionment charm to ensure he wouldn’t be immediately noticed by any teacher patrolling the corridors. He took pleasure in slipping past Filch’s cat unnoticed and was proud of himself for not kicking her swiftly.

A simple Alohomora unlocked the library door when he arrived and he pushed the creaking thing open with a muffled oath. With all the trouble he’d taken to be silent the damned library door just had to creak. Making a mental note to send an anonymous letter to the school complaining about the lack of lubricated hinges, he went straight to the rows of shelves that dealt with Charms. Hopefully the information he sought wasn’t in the Restricted Section.

As Draco settled in at a table by the window to begin his night of reading, an owl hooted somewhere from the dark depths of night and somewhere in the castle an old man smiled benignly as he watched the immobile dot on an enchanted map.

****

After Draco left the infirmary, Ginny shrugged and got off the bed, scooping up her things before walking to the Gryffindor common room. She went to sleep as soon as she got up to her dormitory, head buzzing with information, implications and half-formed plans.

The next morning she went down to breakfast with new hope in her hearts and a new spring in her step.

When she entered the common room, Lavender Brown accosted her immediately.

“Is it true Malfoy was with you in the Hospital Wing yesterday?”

Ginny stared at the girl coolly. Lavender was known around the school as a tart and a gossip. Depending on her reply, Ginny could be spending the rest of the school year as Draco Malfoy’s love interest or the girl he’d harshly set down. Neither held any shred of truth but thus was the prowess of Hogwarts gossips.

After juggling her conscience and common sense, Ginny decided on the truth. “Yes, he was,” she said simply. Lavender had been watching her intently as if trying to gauge the honesty of her answer. Ginny had no time for such frivolities and she brushed past the girl impatiently only to accosted similarly by her brother and Hermione.

“Malfoy was with you at your examination?” Ron sputtered, all but exploding. Ginny could not bother to play pacifier and rationally calm him down.

“Yes Ron, is there a problem with that?” she asked flippantly.

“I – but – he- WHY?”

“What I think your brother is trying to say, Ginny,” Hermione interrupted “is what was Malfoy doing in the Hospital Wing?”

And that, my dear Hermione, is the million galleon question, Ginny responded silently. She shrugged and said aloud, “I don’t really know; he said Dumbledore invited him.”

Hermione nodded, while Ron grew redder.

“Well?” he demanded.

“Well what, Ron?” Ginny asked innocently.

“What did he do? The slimy git must have some ulterior motive for cornering my baby sister in the infirmary.”

Ginny bristled indignantly. Hermione backed away slowly, motioning frantically to Ron who was too upset to notice the danger he was in.

“Some ulterior motive? What, Ron? He couldn’t just have been there for the pleasure of my company?” Ron opened his mouth to interrupt, but Ginny continued with the force of a tidal wave. “And before you start running your mouth off about your baby sister being cornered by that slimy git, you’d do well to remember that your baby sister BESTED said slimy git not two years ago.”

Even though Ron was a good foot taller than her, he faltered as she glowered menacingly at him, poking his chest to punctuate each word. “What if I told you we were having a rendezvous? Hmm? What if we were seeing each other and he came to the infirmary to check if I was alright? What if he CARED, Ron? What then?”

Ginny was building up her argument and was just about to deliver the crushing blow (a vivid description of her and Malfoy actually getting physical) when Harry descended the boy’s staircase and distracted her by calling her name.

“Ginny!” he called, “You’re back from your exam.”

Way to state the obvious, Harry, Ginny thought sarcastically. On the outside she nodded and smiled as if acutely interested in whatever drivel he had to say now.

“How did it go?” Harry tried and failed for a concerned voice. Ginny tried not to roll her eyes. Harry was more concerned with when he was going to be able to touch (read: grope) and kiss (read: slobber all over) Ginny again. She pasted on her brightest – fakest – smile as he walked over to them.

“Are you alright now? Have they figured it out?” he moved closer to her and spoke sotto voce “Should we go somewhere private?”

Ginny’s insides rebelled immediately, and she wasn’t sure whether it was from Harry’s proximity or his words. Either way she subtly moved away from him, and stood next to Hermione. Harry face fell but only for a moment before he brightened again.

“What were you two arguing about?” he asked Ron, “I could hear Ginny’s voice from upstairs.” He chuckled. “Were you teasing her about her hair again?”

Ginny glared at Harry for bringing up the subject, and then glared at Ron for opening his mouth to answer. She folded her arms across her chest in an intimidating pose and Ron clammed up.

“Is that the way it is then?” Harry asked, his mood darkening.

Ginny looked at him askance before replying, “Yes, Harry, that’s the way it’s going to be.” Now get away from me, you troll, before I throw up all over you.

Harry spun on his heel and left and Ginny’s reaction was far more relieved than when Draco executed the same move.

Unwilling to spend any more time in the stifling, crimson room she said goodbye to Hermione and walked to the Great Hall by herself. As soon as she stepped outside someone rushed past and rudely shoved her. Judging from the stinging pains working their way all down her back; it had been just another daredevil looking for a thrill.

Cursing all male species in fluent Romanian under her breath, she continued to the Great Hall wand gripped so firmly in her grasp that it was shooting red sparks. By the time she reached the doors, she had also developed a slight twitch in her left eye whenever someone looked at her. Boys avoided her even more than usual.

And in this vein, October passed and half of November came and went.

On the nineteenth of the month Draco woke up in the library, it having been his dormitory for the last five weeks. Over this course of time, he had become even more convinced that the answer to Ginny’s illness lay in the clue that Dumbledore had given him. He pored over Charms text after Charms text, hoping to find some link between Professor Flitwick’s topic and Ginny’s condition.

This morning he woke no differently from any other, tired and frustrated. He’d just about exhausted all the texts in the open section. He was reluctant to search the Restricted Section unless he had a clear idea of what he was searching for.

His stomach growled. Sighing, Draco got up and cleared his desk, Disillusioning himself to get to breakfast. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and pushed the Great Hall doors open, blinking in surprise when a figure pushed past him hurriedly and pushed him to the ground in the process. A painful cry brought him back to his senses and he realized he was still Disillusioned.

A few feet away, Ginny Weasley lay clutching her right side, red hair again falling into her face. Didn’t the girl understand the use of a hair band, Draco thought irritably. It was a wonder she could see at all.

“Are you alright?” he asked cautiously, sure he was about to be treated to the same punishment as the blokes that had manhandled her before. He didn’t blame her; it was partially his fault for being practically invisible at the moment.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You just caught me off guard, Draco.”

Draco looked up startled. She was standing above him and her wand wasn’t drawn.

“Are you okay?” she asked. He nodded. “I should have looked where I was going,” she continued, “It’s just that I was trying to get away from Ha– ” she broke off, looking at him suddenly. Draco had a good idea whose name she was about to say.

“Why were you running away from Potter?” he asked, looking her in the eyes. She shifted uneasily.

“I – he was – you know – touching me,” she finished lamely. Draco’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“Potter was touching you?” he asked in a quiet voice. Ginny nodded meekly. “When he knew it hurt you?” Draco continued. Ginny’s expression turned – of all things – mischievous.

“Going to show him what’s for, Draco? Be my knight in shining armour?” she laughed suddenly, confusing Draco even more. “Don’t worry, Malfoy, I’ve already proven my point, I don’t think he’ll be touching me again.”

Draco didn’t comment on the flash of tears he had noticed when she pushed past him earlier. “If you’re sure,” he said slowly. Ginny nodded.

“Well either way, come with me.”

He held out his hand, but Ginny looked at it pointedly.

“Right, of course, how silly of me. Onwards, then.”

Draco followed her into the Great Hall and all eyes swivelled to them. Ginny stood expectantly to one side and watched Draco curiously. He spared her a smirk before walking to the centre of the hall between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Pointing his wand to his throat, he muttered Sonorus before he could change his mind about the rash move he was about to make. Taking a deep breath, he said in a voice magically magnified,

“Students of the Hogwarts School,” he boomed and paused to glare at Potter “It has come to my attention that the assaults on Ms. Weasley have become more than a nuisance to her and are actually causing her direct harm. I ask the male students to refrain from placing your hands on Ms. Weasley or you won’t have only her hexes to deal with.” Draco avoided Ginny’s gaze. “That said, Ms. Weasley, step forward,” Draco noticed Ginny’s eyes narrowing but she did as he requested.

“In case some of you gits didn’t get it, Ginny Weasley is now under my protection.”

Ginny smirked. “Happy now, you witch?” he whispered to her. “Quite,” she responded and her smirk widened.

Draco smirked back mischievously them took an even deeper breath than before. He gathered all his resolve and knelt in front of her, gritting his teeth to keep from muttering an oath.

“Though, I swear Ginny Weasley, that one day I will be able to touch you.”

He was gratified to see Ginny’s eyes widen in shock and stood up to face her. He ended the Sonorus charm and spoke quietly to her. “Close your mouth, Red, you look like a cold fish. I’ve been doing some research on your illness and I’m sure I’ve got an idea of what’s ailing you.”

Ginny visibly brightened. “Really?” she asked eagerly. Draco nodded then stepped away from her.

“Now I’d better go before your brother decides to demand my blood.” He took off again, leaving Ginny standing with a stupid smile on her face thinking about her silver-blond Slytherin quasi-rescuer.

****

Days slipped into weeks again and Draco delved even deeper into his research. He found that he had to go into the Restricted Section after all but now he had a clear idea of what he was looking for. He had a number of clues to go on. Professor Snape had mentioned an enchantment in Ginny’s blood, Dumbledore had stressed the importance of Flitwick’s Blood Curse lecture. It all fit.

The night of the third or December – or was it the morning of the fourth? – he pulled out a dusty, heavy copy of Ancynt Wyzard Famelys and turned to the index. He scanned the various titles and found the one he sought Conexions: Curses Among. He quickly turned to the page it listed and found a full page photograph of what appeared to be an ancestral Weasley woman scowling at an ancestral and arrogant Malfoy lord on the opposite page.

The caption read:

Of all the family feuds that have sparked blood curses, the Malfoy/Weasley row must be the most frivolous. Imelda Weasley of St. Catchpole, England, was betrothed to the Marquis of Abbeville, Darius Mal Feit, when he caught her in the arms of one of her countrymen, locked in what he assumed to be an amorous embrace. Enraged, he invoked the blood of his family line (it is to be remembered that the Malfoys are an ancynt and powerful bloodline) and cursed Imelda and all her female descendants by cutting off their ability to directly contact the male gender as soon as they had passed their sixteenth summer.

The actual effects of the curse are not certain but it is assumed that it works in a simple enough way with a barrier being created betwixt the Weasley women and all males excepting her family members. According to records, Imelda was an extremely affectionate person and perhaps Dariell sought to strike at her weakest point by eliminating her contact with the opposite sex. As for her descendants, Darius sought to eliminate their contact at the point of their lives when such contact would be most desirable.

Because the Weasley family has borne no females for the past 800 years, it is unknown whether the curse is still in effect or if it has increased in potency with the concentration of time and lack of female blood.

Draco felt relieved, amused and frustrated all at the same time. This was all because of some stupid blood curse that his great-great-great-grandfather placed on Ginny’s ancestor? Well, the Malfoys had always been known to jump to conclusions and Draco wouldn’t be surprised if this ‘amorous embrace’ turned out to be a simple hug.

Still, this information must mean something could be done. If he couldn’t figure something out, Dumbledore might be able to. He quickly copied the paragraph out of the tome and shut it with a deathly thump leaving the scowling pair to an eternity of facing each other in dusty, scowling silence.

It was breaking dawn as Draco raced along the torch lit corridors towards the Headmaster’s office. He pounded fruitlessly on the stone gargoyle for minutes even trying a fruitless Alohomora before giving up and sinking to the ground. A new thought hit him as the sun peeked its first pink light over the horizon. Snape. The Slytherin Head of House was sure to be in his quarters at this time preparing for his fist lesson.

Draco retraced his path and headed down to the dungeons towards the Potions Master’s office. He knocked loudly on the door waiting only a few moments before Snape opened it with an annoyed expression on his face. He looked surprised to see Draco standing in front of him.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy, this had better be good,” he said, snapping.

“It is, Professor,” Draco gasped out between breaths, “I’ve found out what’s wrong with Ginny.”

Snape’s eyebrows rose into his oily black hair as he regarded the panting student standing outside his door. He swept out of his office in a billow of black robes shutting the door firmly behind him and beckoned to Draco to follow.

“We go to the Headmaster,” he said as he walked quickly along the corridors Draco had just run down.

This time when he arrived at the stone gargoyle Draco waited as Snape muttered the password and they gained entrance to the spiralling staircase. Draco stood behind Snape as the stairs rose, wondering at the reasoning behind this extraordinary circumstance.

Here he was, the Prince of Slytherin on his way to see Dumbledore so they could cure a Weasley. Ah, but it all came down to the Weasley in question. Because Draco could not have resisted such a fiery temper nor such a lively nature bundled together in the tempting package that was Ginny. So here he stood, ascending to his salvation, or his humiliation. But if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Snape and Dumbledore had had a hand in this interesting turn of events.

“Headmaster, I’ve brought the boy,” Snape said when the entered the odd circular room.

Dumbledore beamed. “Excellent, Severus, I assume he has the information.” Snape nodded briskly.

Draco got the impression that he had unwittingly played a part in some peculiar ritual. “Professor Dumbledore?” he asked curiously.

“Ah, yes, my boy, in time things will become clear to you,” the ancient wizard responded enigmatically.

The man’s full of riddles and puzzles, Draco thought irritably. Didn’t he ever give a straight answer to a question?

“What did you find out, Draco?” Dumbledore asked.

“It was a blood curse,” Draco responded, looking at him closely for any sign of realization.

“Yes,” Dumbledore replied simply, “I had surmised as much.”

“It was cast by the Marquis of Abbeville, my ancestor, on Ginny’s ancestor,” Draco continued.

Dumbledore nodded serenely. Draco was at the end of his tether. “Well this is all dandy,” he burst out impatiently, “but how in the name of Merlin are we supposed to help her with this useless bit of information?”

Dumbledore smiled as his eyes twinkled ceaselessly.

“Mr. Malfoy, do you wish to help Ms. Weasley?” Draco said nothing but glared at the elder man. “Yes, I do,” he answered tersely.

“That is very fortunate because you are the only person who can.” Draco remained silent waiting for Dumbledore to elaborate.

“You see, Mr. Malfoy, when Darius cast the curse, in order to have the power to curse Imelda’s future female descendants, he had to invoke his entire family line. A family line, Mr. Malfoy, which includes you. Through your veins runs the blood of Darius Mal Feit, Marquis of Abbeville and you have the power to undo his curse. That is if you choose to do so.”

Draco was silent, stunned by the information Dumbledore had just revealed. If the barmy codger had known this all along why hadn’t he just told Draco to take it off from the beginning of the term? Because he hated the Weasleys then, Draco thought. He’d hated anyone with red-hair and freckles and would have done his utmost to make the curse worse instead of removing it.

Draco didn’t have to approve of Dumbledore’s methods, but they did get results, so he wouldn’t complain – for now.

“How do I end the curse?” he asked Dumbledore. The older man smiled.

“Extend you wand hand, Mr. Malfoy and we will practice.”

*****

Ginny was eating in the Great Hall at the Ravenclaw table with Luna. Harry and he brother had become very annoying over the past few weeks demanding to know what she had given Malfoy in order for him to defend her. She drew the line at hexing her own family members but was walking on pins and needles so much these days that when Luna had invited her over for breakfast, she had jumped at the chance.

She sat munching on oatmeal and toast and watching the post owls swoop with the boys of Ravenclaw keeping a respectful distance. She liked Ravenclaw boys. With the exception of Michael, the boys were decent and not very grabby. Though that may be because of Draco’s announcement, she thought, smiling.

She didn’t know what had possessed him to take her jesting words in earnest and swear to her in the middle of the Great Hall that he would be able to touch her. Although Ginny didn’t expect him to be able to follow through, a tiny hope inside her knew that Draco Malfoy didn’t renege on promises. It had been an interesting two weeks to say the least, and now she could walk the corridors without having to draw her wand every few paces.

But she hadn’t seen Draco. She hadn’t seen him since the Great Hall declaration. She didn’t think he was avoiding her, just that he was busy. She saw him once at the doors of the library early in the morning and he had looked terrible. His face was drawn and pale and she could see dark circles under his eyes. She’d wanted to reach out to him and hold him and was frustrated that she couldn’t. This damned illness, she had thought furiously swearing that if Draco ever was able to touch her, the first thing she would do was throw him down and snog him thoroughly regardless of who was watching. He looked like he needed it – and truth be told, she needed it too.

The doors swung open and the boy who had been occupying her thoughts all morning walked in, looking just as exhausted as ever but just a bit hopeful. Ginny’s heart sprang to life inside her chest and she smiled at him. He looked around for her, and she waved from the Ravenclaw table getting up to move towards him. Luna waved her on cheerily. At the Gryffindor table, Ron was scowling, Harry glaring and Hermione looked apprehensive. Sod them all she thought, Draco needs someone right now. Behind him, she noticed belatedly, were Professors Snape and Dumbledore.

She looked at Draco confused and he smiled tiredly at her. She moved forward to speak to him quietly.

“I thought you’d be able to touch me by now?” she asked him mischievously.

“Didn’t say I couldn’t,” he responded, smirking. Ginny’s eyes widened as Draco’s hand came up to trace her cheek. She almost flinched, but here it was: his hand on her face, with no pain and no shocks, no feeling except the growing warmth that spread to her toes and make her break out into a happy grin.

She gave a squeal of delight and flung her arms around his shoulders kissing him for all he was worth. And he was worth plenty. His hands clipped around her waist to steady her and he pulled her closer into his embrace. They must have clung together for minutes before Professor Snape cleared his throat noisily and Ginny slipped back into reality. She smiled up at Draco brightly hugging him tight and revelling in the contact that she’d sought for months.

“I’ve wanted this for ages,” she confessed.

“So have I,” Draco admitted quietly. Behind them the boys of all houses and ages erupted in a roar of applause of catcalls.

“You’ll need your wand again, now,” he told her, smirking.

“No matter; hexes are a small price to pay for touching you.” She hugged him again, drawing him closer to her and wondering if she would never ever let go. She’d found someone to chase and be chased by and she would bask in the physical closeness they shared for as long as she liked.

~fin~