She thought she heard a leaf crunch outside. The rest of the night was silent. Ginny turned and stared at the open window. She could close it and be undisturbed by further late-night trivialities, but her hair was permanently frizzed from the heat outside, and to close the window would make the room stuffy.

She crept forward to the window and looked down into the night. Nothing there. All was still and silent, surprising for the completely full Burrow (finally her entire family was there at once!) even at such a late hour. Babies weren’t crying, brothers weren’t snoring; everyone was asleep except for her. The quiet was beautiful.

Ginny pushed herself away from the windowsill and returned to her redressing. She had hoped for some kind of wind to caress her bare stomach, kiss her neck and face, to release her from this sweltering heat. The element, of course, was still. Ginny pulled a t-shirt over her head, noting its large size. She really should give it back to her friend and steal another; it was starting to smell less like him every day.

-----

Ginny sat up with a start. Instead of seeing red curtains surrounding her as she normally did when she woke, she seemed to be in an unfamiliar setting. After letting her eyes adjust she realized she had fallen asleep in her best mate’s dorm room. For the first time she was actually thankful for his favoritism gained by the leading teachers (namely Snape) in the school’s new, twisted system, since it had granted him his own private dorm. If only he didn’t have to sacrifice so much in the face of others…

Her ears honed in on the sound of running water. He was…in the shower? That would explain why she had woken up – she was such a light sleeper. At least he wasn’t singing. Ginny glanced at the clock at his bedside – it relayed to her “well past curfew.” She should be feeling guilty about such a time, becoming stuck in a male’s dorm, but for some reason his bed was a lot softer than hers and she was content to stay in it.

Ginny pushed her textbook and various pieces of parchment off of her lap and stood, stretching her arms over her head, letting the already short hemline of her shirt rise a few inches without care. All the warmth from the bed and her tight muscles was released and soon she was standing cold in a room that didn’t help with its stone insulation. A hot shower was starting to sound better and better. She wondered what could happen if maybe she joined-

No, Ginny. Clean thoughts.

She sat back down on the soft (oh so bloody soft) bed and looked around the familiar room. One of the first things that he told her was that he hated being neat, which had shocked her to the core. He, who was always so impeccably put together? He, who never had a single piece of lint on his robes, whose tie was always perfect and straight, whose hair used to be permanently gelled back? (He stopped making it so stiff for one reason or another right after they had become friends, and it was one of her favorite objects to run her fingers through for no reason at all.)

But being neat was for keeping up appearances, and since no one (until her) came to his room, he let himself be free. Quills and parchment were strewn over his desk, his dresser was in complete disarray, and clothing littered the floor. They were alike in this manner: her dorm-mates hated her for her nasty habits. She wondered what the house would look like if they lived together, how the bedroom would be when they came home from dinner and dancing, minds hazy with euphoria and alcohol, and started to make their way to-

NO, Ginny. CLEAN thoughts. You two are FRIENDS, remember? Not…not that.

She scrounged around the floor, examining each piece of clothing carefully. She wanted to find something to sleep in, but choosing which articles to grab was a necessity. Picking up certain pieces of clothing could promise to be embarrassing.

Her hand drifted over something cotton and white, and upon further inspection she could see the collar of the t-shirt right on top. She plucked the shirt off the ground and held it up to her small frame; the sleeves reached her elbows, and the hemline, her lower thighs. He was much too tall for her liking.

She popped the buttons on her uncomfortable skirt, kicking off her shoes as she shimmied out of the confining garment. She had forsaken leggings, even though there was still a mild winter chill outside. Turning her back to the bathroom door, she prayed to whatever gods that listened that he would not walk out while she was undressed, and began undoing her blouse, not daring to take off her bra. She tugged the gigantic tie over her head in the nick of time; the door behind her opened just as the shirt grazed over her bottom.

Ginny whipped around, once again praying that he didn’t see anything, but was stopped short by what she saw.

There stood Draco Malfoy stood, towel around his waist, surprise in his eyes (which were partly covered by wet hair) but a smirk on his mouth. She tried hard to ignore his bare chest.

“Nice shirt,” he drawled in his usual manner. The words were slightly innocent, meant to tease, but she knew he saw, oh God oh God oh God he saw her knickers. Even in her embarrassment she wondered what he thought, then mentally slapped herself.

CLEAN. BLOODY. THOUGHTS.

Ginny willed herself not to blush, but her face contradicted her and the faint pink tinge rose behind the freckles he lied about hating so much.

“I, um, needed something comfortable to sleep in,” she mumbled, almost to herself. She knew that he could sense something was off with her the way he always could, and a little more blood rushed to her cheeks, but thankfully he didn’t question her about that much.

“And you were planning on sneaking off to your dormitory in my shirt?” His eyebrows quirked.

“Well…” she trailed off, gesturing to the clock. It now read “shouldn’t you be in bed already?” She saw realization register on Draco’s features and his entire demeanor changed.

“That is, if it’s okay…”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” He motioned towards the piece of furniture, which was strewn with various pieces of clothing and textbooks, her own robe and tie mingling in. Was there really a couch under there?

Ginny looked to the bed; it was actually quite huge. They could both fit, as they had before, and keep their personal space.

“No, I’m not putting you out of your bed. It’s big enough, we-“

“-can share,” Draco finished for her. “Okay.” He shifted his weight in the silence that followed. She realized that he was still wearing only a towel.

“If you don’t mind, could you maybe turn around? I thought that when I got out of the shower you’d still be asleep, and so I didn’t exactly have any pants…” he kept a cool demeanor, but she could sense the awkwardness in his stance. Nodding, she turned to the bed and nested herself under the warm covers, trying her best not to imagine the scenery behind her.

CLEANTHOUGHTSCLEANTHOUGHTSCLEANTHOUGHTS-
“Okay.” She heard Draco make his way towards the bed and turned to look. He had forsaken the towel for a pair of sweatpants, but he was still shirtless. Must he tease her so?

His taunting sexiness was lost when he stepped on a pair of boxers and slipped, regaining his balance after half a second. Anyone less graceful would have fallen flat on their face, and anyone with a less keen eye wouldn’t have noticed a thing, but Ginny knew Draco, and she knew that he had been totally caught off balance. She let out a giggle.

“That wouldn’t happen if you cleaned up once in a while,” she poked at him, smiling wide. He scowled.

“Oh, shut up, Weasley. You’re no better.”

Ginny brushed her hair out of her eyes as he joined her under the covers. “So what’s with the late-night shower?”

He immediately sobered. “I…I woke up and couldn’t go to sleep without a hot shower.” Now he was acting strange, but she was going to return his graciousness and not say a word.

As he settled in, his hand met hers under the covers. The light brush sent tingles down her spine, and she was oddly thankful that he didn’t jerk away. She was surprised, however, to find that even though he claimed to have taken a hot shower, his skin was chilly to the touch. His other hand – his left one – rested behind his head, revealing a bare forearm marred by light pink scar tissue.

“I really don’t know what we’re supposed to do now, like talk or anything,” Draco murmured, his voice dropping due to their proximity. Ginny could feel nerves bunching in her stomach (after all, they had never done something quite like this before), and she knew he must be just as nervous and was simply trying to talk the jitters away. “Really, there’s nothing to say. And I don’t imagine too many friends get caught in our situation…” He trailed off, but she barely noticed; between the softness and the warmth of the bed, his deep smooth voice, and the way he had started tracing circles on her hand with the pad of his thumb, she was quickly being lulled to sleep. He must have noticed her half-lidded eyes and relaxed stance, because he continued with, “…so we’ll just fall back asleep, then.”

She sent a lazy smile his way. “Goodnight, Draco.”

“Goodnight, Gin.” He hesitated, then leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead. Her eyes closed at the touch.

“I’m keeping this shirt, you know,” she stated before succumbing to sleep. “It smells really good.” She heard him laugh, and she finally drifted away.

-----

Ginny sat on her bed (which was nowhere near as comfortable as Draco’s) and smiled. They had never shared a bed again after that night, but the intimate moments they had, the touching and the small kiss, were almost enough to last her a lifetime. Almost.

She crawled on all fours to the head of her bed. It was extremely late – even the bats must have been snoring – but she couldn’t sleep in the comforter, for it was too warm, and her eyes didn’t want to close anyway. She laid face-up atop the mattress and allowed her mind to wander instead.

Ginny never really was sure when she started like liking Draco Malfoy. She was already breaking all laws of nature by befriending him, but having a crush on him seemed out of the question. That is, until it happened.

Maybe it happened over Christmas break. She had gone home; Ron was back, but Harry and Hermione weren’t. All of her brothers joining her at the Burrow constantly reminded her of her odd friendship with the “enemy,” which led her to remembering his missing letters, which led her to worrying about how he was doing. He, too, had gone home for the holidays and was following You-Know-Who’s orders to a point while doing what he could to help the Order. Protecting Luna on the sly was part of this job, though most didn’t know it was happening. She had missed him greatly, and upon their reunion her attraction to him had hit her like a ton of bricks. She nearly kissed him that day.

But could he like her back? She had broken an unspoken rule, but would he? She couldn’t even see what they would be like together, though if the way she felt when he touched her gave any inclination, it would be extremely exciting.

-----

Cold wind slapped Ginny in the face. She had long ago tied her hair away from her face. Draco constantly offered his cloak, which she always refused. Both of their cheeks were tinged with pink and eyes, bright. To her, he looked even more beautiful than usual, which was why she always insisted on these long walks by the lake.

“Are you sure you don’t want-“ Draco prodded, but Ginny cut him off.

“Shut up, you know I don’t. I’m fine, really,” she insisted at his objection, pushing his offered cloak away. He took it back reluctantly, but didn’t put it on.

Ginny knew his cloak was warm and that it smelled like him (which was reason in itself to don the cloak, even on the most blistering hot day of summer) but for the longest time and the strangest reason, she liked the cold. And then cold could lead to different ways of heating up – hot chocolate, curling up by the fire, and…

“I have an idea,” Ginny stated aloud. Draco stopped in his tracks and looked at her warily.

“What kind of idea?”

“Well, since you’re so desperate for me to get warm,” Ginny reasoned, “how about we have a little race? To the clearing.”

“The clearing?”

“Right. On go, okay? Ready, set – hey!”

But he was gone, dropping his cloak, to the clearing he had showed her so long ago. He had been traipsing on a path between the Forbidden Forest and the lake, looking so lonely. She had followed him, and he knew but didn’t object. They had walked and walked, in complete silence, and a few times Ginny had nearly given up. But she hadn’t walked all that way for nothing. Finally they entered a field the size of a standard Quidditch pitch, covered with flowers of every species, color, and size. The flowers were dead and hidden now by a thin layer of snow, but the clearing was still as beautiful as ever.

Ginny sped after Draco, determined not to let him win. His cloak lay forgotten on the ground as they challenged each other, both of their Quidditch training showing through. He broke through the trees first with her hot on his heels. He turned to gloat his win, but he didn’t get the chance before she tackled him to the ground.

They rolled on the snow, wrestling as a brother and sister would. He flipped her over and pinned her arms behind her back, burying her face in the snow. He stood and brushed his hands off with a satisfied smirk on his face.

Ginny stood as well, mustering up the meanest glare she could and aiming it at Draco. His expression didn’t change, but he did take a step back. Spitting out snow, she yelled, “You cheater!”

Draco could only laugh; at her image she was sure. She had snow in her hair and on her face, and her clothes were soaking wet, but hey – his weren’t any better.

She leaned on one hip as he laughed, crossing her arms over her chest and not changing her expression. He sobered, still smiling. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off by grabbing her hand and pulling her towards him.

“Come here.”

Draco’s arms wrapped around her shoulders. Ginny stayed still – she was still mad at him! But she couldn’t resist for long. Her arms wrapped around his lean stomach, and she suddenly realized how cold she had actually been. He was so warm…

She found herself thanking God that he didn’t pull away. For the longest time they stood, wrapped in each other, silently thinking of nothing, anything, and everything. She could smell his scent with her head pressed against the crook of his neck; it was so delicious. And they hugged, and hugged, and hugged.

After what felt like hours, Ginny felt Draco shift. She pulled her head away and saw that he was looking at her with anguish and love in his eyes. Her curiosity peaked.

“What?”

His mouth opened and closed, trying to place words. He sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled.

“Just be glad I’m such a gentleman.”

Her brow furrowed. What one earth was he thinking? The look on his face had been so strong; if they had been dating, she would have kissed him then and there. Was that what he had wanted? She thought she knew him, but he surprised her even now, and probably would for forever more.

He didn’t answer her thoughts, merely pulling away and running his hands down her arms until the last things that touched were their pinkies. This, they linked together, as they had many times before. The friend way of holding hands, they had said. They walked in this way all the way back to the castle, only pausing to pick up his sopping cloak.

-----

There was a rustle outside her window. Ginny jolted upward and looked; there was a handsome, imposing eagle owl on her windowsill. She would recognize that owl anywhere.

Reaching over she gently untied the piece of parchment from its leg. Otto (named when the owner was but five years old) did not like sudden movements. Once the letter was off, Otto fluttered down to Ginny’s pillow and made himself comfortable. Draco was expecting a reply.

Ginny turned away, opening the letter. It read:

Go to bed. –D

Otto was still on her pillow, sitting straight as a board with what appeared to be a scowl on his face. He probably liked the lumpy, hard bed just as much as Draco would.

Ginny whipped to her unpacked schoolbag, pulled out a hard book to write on, and her new favorite Muggle invention called a “pen” which required no ink pot that was easily spilt, and began to write.

If you wanted me to sleep, why did you tell Otto to stay? -G

She reached into her bag once more and pulled out one of the owl treats she kept handy. It was probably stale; she hoped Otto wouldn’t mind. She fed the treat to the large owl, and he did grimace, but she stuck the response in his beak before he could make a sound. The bird threw her a dirty look before flying into the night. Ginny sank onto her bed in the same position as before, wishing the mattress were half as soft as Draco’s.

It was barely two minutes before Otto flew back in her room and landed on her stomach. Ginny frowned; she knew Otto was fast (then again, every owl was fast compared to Errol and Pigwidgeon) but two minutes was a surprising speed, factoring in reading the response and writing back. She gripped the note clamped in the bird’s beak and released it.
Did I? I just thought Otto had a major crush on you. –D
P.S. Did you give him owl treats? Way to go, Ginny – now he’ll be gassy all night.

True to Draco’s word, Otto let his gas pass right as Ginny finished the letter.

“Oh, Otto!” she grimaced, pushing him off of her belly and out the window. “You can sit on the tree branch outside.” Otto sent her another evil glare. Ginny couldn’t believe the immense disdain this owl had for her. What did she ever do wrong? Or was he, too, trained that blood traitors were not to be dealt with?

She scowled as she returned to her desk and scribbled on the parchment.

What are you doing you so late, dearest Draco? -G

She could already hear his shudder from his most disliked nickname. She giggled. They were way too good of friends.

Once again, the response arrived with surprising speed, a whopping three minutes.

Waiting. I’m always waiting. Waiting for the Ministry to evacuate my house, waiting for my parents’ trial (I am so lucky. Thank you, by the way.) Waiting for everything to be right again. Waiting for your letter.
So I’ve been thinking, and this leads to the conclusion that we (you and I) need to escape. –D

-----

She didn’t have much of a choice. One minute she was sitting under a tree in a pile of leaves, arms wrapped around her knees, staring out at the lake, and the next there was something black and heavy on her head and covering her body which dared to obscure her vision.

“Don’t you dare give that back,” she heard, muffled through the thing she had identified as Draco’s cloak. She was about to object, but thought better – she had been a bit cold after all. She pulled her arms through the sleeves, slipping the cloak on backwards so as to cover her front from the chilly wind. She patted down her now mussed hair and finally got to look at her cloak-attacker.

He was lowering himself to the ground, adjusting his knees to sit much like she was. It was Saturday, so he was only wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt instead of a dress shirt, and uniform slacks.

“Won’t you be cold?” Ginny asked. Draco shrugged. The motion drew attention to his left arm, which was facing Ginny. She looked, then did a double take and let out a small gasp at the grotesque scar marring his pale skin. He didn’t react merely looking out at the lake, but she continued staring, unable to avert her eyes. Finally he spoke, still not looking at her.

“If you want to know, then ask.”

Ginny gulped. “How...what is that?”

Draco sighed. Ginny wasn’t sure what for; hadn’t he just told her to ask?

“Last summer, when I got my…assignment,” he started, turning towards, “the Dark Lord branded me with this, like Muggle ranchers do with cattle. It was the Dark Mark, but it wasn’t magical – it didn’t look like a tattoo and provided no connection to the Dark Lord. He made me color it black with some Muggle thing called a ‘shar-pee’ so it would look ‘authentic.’ Fooled Potter at least, or so I hear.” Looking closer, Ginny could see the scar’s former resemblance to the Dark Mark. But that didn’t explain why it was so contorted.

“After I…after Snape…when Dumbledore…” Draco was lost for words, almost getting choked up. Ginny never asked him to speak about this, and she never would again. She placed a comforting hand on his right arm, encouraging him to go on.

“Something hit me, hard. Dumbledore never gave up on me. All the times he called me into his office, trying to play school counselor…even though they annoyed me to hell, and at the time I brushed them off as something else he was doing that was utterly stupid, I finally saw that he was trying to redeem me from my father’s fate. I realized it too late. He could see the best in me, instead of just a miniature Death Eater. And one time in these sessions I let a few things slip, off guard, (which never happened,) and he didn’t even look at me like I was horrible. He looked at me the same. And I didn’t see until it was too damn late!” He took a moment to calm his breathing.

“I started to realize what, exactly, love was. Even through all my annoyance, disbelief, and disrespect of Dumbledore, he still loved me. And in a twisted way, I loved him. Understanding love made me realize everything that was wrong about the Dark Lord, because, as you know, his followers are taught not to love. I could never live that life again.

“So I tried to disfigure the Mark. I cut over it with a knife,” Ginny cringed and gasped, but Draco took no notice, “and it worked, sort of.”

Ginny held his arm close to her, examining the scars. She could still see the outline of the Mark, but she could also discern the other multiple lines and crossings as scars that were somewhat identical to the ones she had seen on a Hufflepuff’’s wrist last year. The girl’s sleeve rode up while passing a potions ingredient to Ginny, and she had darted away quickly, but Ginny knew what those scars meant. Everyone did. As a sudden realization hit Ginny, she nearly cried. Draco didn’t…he couldn’t…would he?

She sucked it up and gathered words to say, only coming up with, “Did it hurt?”

Draco’s laugh was dry. “I didn’t cut myself for the same reason as others. I don’t get pleasure out of pain. It did hurt greatly, as much as getting the damn thing in the first place but it was worth it. Even though I know it’s there, I don’t really have to look at it, and when I do I remember the changes that I’ve made, which makes it better.”

Draco was quirking a small, sad smile at her, and Ginny could hold on no longer. Two tiny tears escaped from each eye, which she quickly swiped away.

“Hey now,” Draco started, “no crying. I don’t do tears.”

Ginny smacked him on the arm, and then threw her arms around him. He stiffened, and Ginny wagered this was his first hug of ever. No matter; with her as a friend, he would get used to it soon enough.

-----

Escape? What do you mean, escape?

Leave. Get out of here. Go somewhere else.

Like where?

Wherever you want.

Are you kidding me?

No, not really.

So, leave the country?

If you want. (I’m counting your question marks. You’re at five.)

Shut up. And you know I can’t afford that!

Like I’d offer a trip then make you pay, even just for yourself. Besides, I know you want to. (Q-5, E-1)

I hate you. Because you know what? I do want to. But I don’t want to pick.

Alright. I’ll surprise you. Start packing, princess.

Fine.

Every one of the responses came with the same surprising speed. After sending her last missive, Ginny raced to the window, eager to see exactly where the letters were coming from.

-----

Ginny knew she must look a sight. She didn’t get all red and splotchy like Ron did when he got angry (surprisingly, he was the only one in the family who did that. Where did the stereotype come from?), but she could feel her hair standing on end and her cheeks heating all the same. Her fists clenched and she stomped through the halls, scaring anyone in years younger than her (and sometimes those in the same or older).

She finally found him in an empty classroom. She stepped inside, shut the door, cast a silencing charm, and screamed as loud and long and high as she could. At first he didn’t react, but as she wore on he reached up to plug his ears. Ginny finally stopped just before she began to turn blue.

“I am so mad at you!”

“This I gathered,” he retorted, turning to her. Though he was calm, there was surprise and wariness on his face.

“I heard the things you said to that girl. They were awful! Did you see how much she cried? Draco, how could you?” They had been “friends” for only a short month, but that was the first time she had called Draco by his first name.

He became defensive. “Reputation and appearances, that’s how! What did you expect me to say, that she fills my life with sunshine and flo-”

“At the least I expected you to just walk on by! Words, those words, were unnecessary! Did you even want to say them?”

“No! I didn’t, I promise, I just-” He was almost pleading with her now. Ginny didn’t even think he noticed.

“So say you’re sorry,” she cut him off quietly. He clamped his jaw shut.

“I don’t…I’ve never…” He wanted to trail off, like he constantly did, but the look on Ginny’s face pushed him to continue. “…never said that before.” He turned away, to the window overlooking the grounds. Ginny could see that his already pale knuckles, gripping the windowsill, were turning even whiter. She joined him facing away from the window, back resting against the sill.

“I know.” They fell into an uncomfortable silence, each trying to figure out what to say.

Draco spoke first. “Don’t you hate me? I admit I said some really bad things. Normally when I piss people off, they don’t confront me to my face; they plot revenge. And you’re pissed off, but…”

“I’m doing something different?” Ginny continued. Draco nodded. “Well, I’m different than the other people you know. The others hate you. I care for you. I love you.” Draco’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but Ginny held up a hand to stop him. “Like I would my brothers. I know you’ve never experienced love. I know you don’t understand it. I’m not expecting anything from you. But I care for you, and with care comes anger and disappointment for the stupid things you’ve done. Like this one. So I’m angry at you right now. But normally with anger comes apologies, and then forgiveness.

“You say you’ve never apologized before? Now’s a good place to start. I know deep down, somewhere, you have this ability.” She waited hopefully as Draco took in a deep breath.

“I’m not the hero…I still…can’t…I don’t how.”

Ginny pushed away from the window, walking towards the door. Draco turned and watched her.

“That’s okay. I mean, I’m not even the one you should be apologizing to. I’m not the one to give you forgiveness.” She was nearly out the door when she heard a voice call to her.

“Ginny?” She turned. That was the first time he had said her name.

He approached her slowly, one hand clenching and unclenching. Finally he held it out, as if for her to shake. “I’m sorry.”

Her smile was so wide, she felt like her face would break. She gripped his hand was tight as she could (which to him was absolutely nothing).

“It’s a start.”

-----

Otto flew into the forest near the Burrow in the direction of the tree house she, the twins, and her father built so long ago. Not a minute later, a pale body with blonde hair appeared from the trees, almost glowing in the moonlight. Ginny filled with excitement as she rushed around her room, grabbing her knapsack and various clothing – only the necessities. Draco loved to spend on others (namely her) vicariously, and she might as well take the chance when she could get it.

She scribbled a note to her family, telling them not to worry, before running back to the window. Draco was waiting below, at the bottom of the tree outside her window.

“Hey, pretty boy!” she yelled, prodding at his ethereal glowing, before throwing her knapsack out the window into his waiting arms. She followed the pack out the window, climbing down the tree and landing on the ground with a thunk. Some of her family might have awoken with all the noise she made; she didn’t care.

She turned to Draco, receiving her bag full of clothes. “Any particular means of transportation?”

“Portkey,” he replied. Ginny was just about to berate him for creating an unauthorized anything (for she knew he would retort if she only used Portkey) when he added, “Just to the outside of King’s Cross! We’ll take a train from there.”

That didn’t make it any better, but Ginny remained quiet. She sent him the same look she gave Fred and George after they pulled a prank before walking away. However, she didn’t particularly know where to go.

“Hey,” she heard Draco call and felt him grab her upper arm. He turned her and she assumed she had been going in the wrong direction, but before she had a chance to say anything his lips were on hers.

The kiss was short and sweet, only lasting but a few seconds. There was no exploration of mouths, as some might put it, no groping or fingers tangling in hair. It was chaste, but for now, for Ginny, chaste was enough.

She felt him shift and pulled away. Her eyes were wide, her heart racing, and her hands trembling. Had he really just done that? One look at him told her his eyes were shining and his cheeks were flushed. (Really, the kiss was not that much in action! But it was such a big step in their relationship.) He must have felt the same way she did.

A cool breeze finally brushed by, easing their burning, blushing faces. Draco pulled his hand out of his pocket, revealing the most beautiful necklace Ginny had ever seen. She hoped it was hers to keep. “Bloody hell.”

“Well, grab it,” he instructed, and grab it she did.

And then they were gone.

-----

Isn’t he hot? He’s sitting out in the sun in black robes, he must be hot. Where are all his cronies? Wait Ginny, stop judging.

Thoughts raced through her head as her feet led her, uninstructed, to the dock where Draco Malfoy sat. Where her bare feet would have been dangling off the side and into the water, his legs, covered in pants and then shoes, were crossed under him. She had abandoned her robe in the common room long ago, favoring her blouse and (unfortunately a bit short) skirt. His hair was gelled back, while hers was getting tangled in the wind. He was her polar opposite, and yet her body was telling her to sit next to him.

She sunk down beside him, leaving her shoes on, but crossing her legs over the side of the dock. He looked at her; she didn’t see whether it was a glare or a look of surprise. Maybe it was both. He eventually stared back at the water, uttering a menacing, “What?”

Ginny could be mean right back. She could have some sarcastic quip at the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t think that was the reason she came over. Yes, she could be mean, or she could confuse him.

“What, what?”

She looked at him now. He, too, was stunned at her lack of a comeback, at least one that tried to insult him. He frowned in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘what, what?’”
She acted confused, too. Breaking the ice. “Well, what do you mean, ‘what do you mean?’”

“What do you me- what the hell do you want, Weasley?”

She shrugged. “To sit here.”

“Right next to me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Draco ground through his teeth. Ginny turned to him, pinning him with a gaze that showed she was not joking.

“Because you looked lonely.”

He sputtered in disbelief; even though she could see he knew what she said was true. “B-because I looked- what are you getting at?”

“Seriously. You looked lonely. You looked like you could use a friend.”

Draco stood up indignantly. Ginny had never seen him so off his guard. “I don’t need a friend, Weasley, especially if it’s you.”

“Yes you do,” she responded, still sitting. “Everyone needs a friend; do you have anyone to really talk to?”

“I’ll have you know, I have plenty of friends,” he sneered. Ginny shook her head.

“No, you don’t. You have allies. Can you really talk to them? They’d spill your secrets in a heartbeat if it benefitted them.” By the look on his face, she knew she had him stumped.

“But…why you?”

“Do you see anyone else offering?” She smiled. He still frowned.

“It’s not like I asked,” he muttered. Finally he returned to his seat next to her.

“Listen, I’ll make you a deal. If I let you sit here, will you shut up?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

A comfortable silence. Then…

“But you know, if you ever need to talk, I won’t tell anyone-“
“I thought you were going to shut up?”
“Shutting up.”
And so they sat.