Her tie was quite possibly the only thing keeping him sane. He would have given it back to her by now, but Ginny hadn’t asked for it, and somewhere along the line, he had become rather attached to it. As Draco wound the long strip of silk between his fingers, he tried to identify the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Was she really gone, or had that been a part of his nightmares too? Had he honestly yelled at her for comforting him in his dreams? The crushed look in her giant brown eyes broke his heart, and it wouldn’t fade from his mind.
In the past three days, he had barely left his room. He couldn’t remember having any meals, and Draco could probably count on one hand the hours of sleep he had captured. Aside from lessons, the room had become his sanctuary and his prison.
Draco couldn’t understand the urge he had to drop everything and beg her forgiveness. Malfoys didn’t beg. Perhaps this was why they didn’t fall in love either.
But I do love her. Did loving her translate automatically into apologizing? How did men apologize in acceptable ways?
He shoved his fingers through his hair, trying to think of something else he could do to make it up to her. Just kissing her in the middle of the hallway and pretending nothing ever happened was somewhat appealing, but it could also end with a very nasty Bat Bogey Hex.
But wasn’t that something else he loved about her? She didn’t take any of his shit, and she put him in his place. No one had ever faced him like an equal, and Ginny wouldn’t stand for him pretending he had never hurt her.
Flowers. His father had once given his mother flowers when he had truly upset her. He wondered if Ginny would be impressed by that sort of thing.
He tried to picture her reaction to him approaching her in the corridors with an embarrassingly extravagant bouquet of flowers. The only response that he could actually picture from Ginny was one of her deadly looks, and then no doubt another Bat Bogey Hex. Draco snorted. “Well, it was worth a try, anyway.”
Draco reached for his wand on the nightstand and gave it a tired flick. He rubbed the corners of his eyes with a sigh, and when he opened them again, a red rose was lying on his bed.
The sad little flower looked about as tired as he felt. The edges of its misshapen petals were shredded and the stem was crooked in several places. Shaking his head, Draco Vanished it.
With more deliberation, Draco waved his wand in a graceful arc, and a second rose fell from the air onto his bed.
He let his mouth spread into a small smile as he looked at it. The blood-red petals spread out from the center, each one more perfect than the last. The stem was long and straight, with gracefully dangling green leaves. He could almost see Ginny in it if he stared at the flower hard enough. The fiery burst of crimson was in her hair, in her voice, in her soul.
Gathering up all of his remaining energy, Draco slid off his bed and grabbed his scarlet quill and a scrap of parchment out of his desk drawer. He nearly fell into his chair from exhaustion, and leaned forward to write a note.
When the note had been perfectly curled around the long stem of the rose, he waved his wand again and watched the rose disappear from his bed. With a smile that was both satisfied and hopeful, Draco turned to rummage through his closet for the evening’s second gift.
Ginny’s afternoon Transfiguration class seemed to bring time to a screeching halt. Professor McGonagall prattled on about turning doorknobs into mice, but Ginny couldn’t help wondering how this was ever going to help her. When would she ever need to turn a doorknob into a mouse? That wouldn’t solve any of her problems.
Her past three days had been devoid of almost any human contact. She hadn’t talked to her friends or to her teachers, and she had seen neither Harry nor Draco.
She hadn’t seen Draco since the weekend, when he had dismissed her from his room. She was going to convince him to save his mother, even if it meant helping Harry, but she wasn’t going to approach him about it until he had found some clarity.
The boy definitely needed some clarity. Whether he needed to adjust to the changes they had made together, or he needed to process Harry’s news about his mother, Ginny couldn’t be sure. But he had asked her to leave, and she had. If he wanted her back, she expected him to ask her back. It was as simple as that.
But if she were completely honestly with herself, it worried her that he hadn’t made any contact with her since their one-sided fight. Why hadn’t he come and found her? Was he really that angry with her? She had gone over these questions so many times that even her answers came out as questions.
She had been avoiding Harry since their conversation at the lake, if only because she hadn’t made any progress on Draco. Weren’t there more experienced, qualified people to do these sorts of things? When had she been dropped into the middle? Harry thought he had protected her from the war by leaving her behind, but it appeared that he had brought it right back to her.
Ginny had very little luck turning her doorknob into a mouse. Once, for an instant, it flashed to a mouse, but the creature had blond hair and emerald green eyes, and she was relieved when it instantly turned back into a doorknob.
“You may go,” Professor McGonagall dismissed them after summoning all their doorknobs back to her desk. “We will continue this lesson next Tuesday.”
Ginny began gathering her parchment and books to shove into her bag, when Professor McGonagall came to a stop beside her desk.
“Miss Weasley,” she said, staring down at Ginny through the square glasses perched on the end of her nose.
“Hello, Professor,” Ginny replied weakly.
Professor McGonagall offered a very small smile to the younger witch. “Miss Weasley, I know how hard it must be for you with Mr. Potter back. But I would hope that you would continue to grant the necessary focus to your schoolwork.”
“Yes, Professor,” Ginny whispered, her head bowed toward her lap.
“Have a good afternoon.” Professor McGonagall patted her lightly on the shoulder and then returned to her desk.
Inhaling sharply through her nose, Ginny returned to stuffing her things in her bag. When she tried to lay her parchment flat on the bottom, something sharp pricked her hand.
“What the bloody…” she mumbled, reaching into her bag to pull the sharp object out.
Ginny’s eyes grew wide as she pulled a long, crimson rose from her bag. As she trailed a finger down one of the soft petals, she gave a very hesitant smile. The simplicity of its beauty calmed her.
It was then that she noticed the small note that was tightly furled around the bottom of the stem. She carefully pulled it free and unrolled it flat against her desk.
Please meet me outside the castle doors at seven. I promise you won’t be disappointed. Love, Draco
Her eyes widened at the word “love”, perfectly etched on the parchment in Draco’s elegant script.
In their fighting, it seemed that Ginny had forgotten about loving Draco, and just worried about holding on to him. She had forgotten the tiny word that had bound them so closely before. But here, Draco reminded her of what really mattered. The perfectly printed word reminded Ginny of why she was so troubled in the first place. She loved him.
The howling wind of the weekend had brought with it the year’s first real snowfall. Where the wind had been loud and turbulent, snapping tree branches and rattling the castle windows, the snow brought a quiet sense of calm. Draco stared across the silent, snow-covered grounds and breathed in the sharp, early December air.
He had come outside early to enjoy the still-falling snowflakes and the glittering grounds. Beneath his heavy cloak, Draco ran his fingers over the thick stitches of his green woolen scarf, waiting.
He had come to terms with the fact that he was nervous. All he could think to give her when he apologized was something meaningful. Ginny would no doubt only be impressed by something he had put thought into.
Around his neck hung probably one of the shittiest things he owned. Someone, a very long time ago, had given him a wool scarf for Christmas. The person in question obviously didn’t know that Malfoys only wore cashmere winter garments, and his younger self had scoffed at the unsuitable gift.
But something about the uneven, homemade stitches made Draco think of Ginny. He could close his eyes and picture her twirling around, wearing the scarf, playing in the snow. He could see the scarf perfectly against her flaming hair. He had embroidered her initials at the very bottom of one side in gold, hoping that his only idea for a gift would be good enough.
He ran his fingers over her initials again nervously. The sudden creak of the castle doors beside him made his pulse skitter.
She looked beautiful in the moonlight. Her fiery hair was partially pulled back, her cheeks already flushing a delicate pink from the cold. She was tightly wrapped in a black Muggle coat, and his dark red rose was in her hand.
“’Lo,” he said hoarsely, only getting the second half of the word out.
“Hi,” she answered softly, twirling the rose between her fingers.
He pulled the scarf loose of his own neck and laid it over her shoulders. Ginny’s eyelids fluttered gently as he wrapped it tenderly around her neck. He opened her hand with his own, and put the initialed end of the scarf in her palm.
She opened her eyes as he took a step back. “Ginny, I’m – I’m sorry.”
Ginny considered him with giant, glowing eyes. “What are you sorry for?”
“I’m sorry that I was such a prat after you did maybe one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me. No, the nicest thing anyone’s ever done. And I was just…scared, I guess, that you’d think less of me. And I’m sorry.” His tiny speech came out in a rush, almost as if he were afraid that if he didn’t say it fast enough, she would turn around and leave.
As Draco stared at the ground, he heard snow crunching beneath her feet, and he looked up in time to catch a glimpse of her red hair, sparkling with fallen snow, before she leaned forward and kissed him.
Ginny brought both her hands to his shoulders and clung to him. Her kisses were tender and light and so warm that Draco felt he would burn up despite the cold. Her hair fell around his face and he could feel the dark green scarf against his own neck as she pressed closer to him.
She pulled back and rested her forehead against his, both of them smiling and breathing deeply. “I love you,” Ginny whispered.
“I love you, too,” he replied before leaning in to kiss her. But before his lips could reach hers, she giggled and slipped out from under his arms, running into the night.
He almost lost his balance, but laughed at the sound of her shrieks as she twirled in the snow. Draco turned, ready to race off after her, but something cold smacked against his chest. Ginny’s snowball slid to the ground.
“Oh, you’re dead, Weasley!” he yelled after her, and smiled when she laughed and took off running towards the lake. The scarf flew out behind her, along with her scarlet hair.
Draco stooped down to pack his own snowball and launched it into the dark. A soft thump was followed by a cry from Ginny. Another snowball came whizzing in his direction, narrowly missing his face. Draco took off running after her.
She looked back and screamed at the sight of him barreling through the snow. She took off again, but Draco was faster. Within seconds, he was running just behind her and threw himself forward to take her down with him.
They were both laughing and rolling around in the snow until Draco stopped and pinned her down. She looked perfect, lying in the snow beneath him. He leaned down and kissed her deeply, only to be kissed back just as fervently.
He ran his thumb across her jaw line, taking in her flyaway hair and cold, red nose. The smallest part of his heart clenched at the thought that maybe he couldn’t make this last forever. Maybe he would have to finally face what he’d been running from to save his mother, and in the process he’d have to leave Ginny behind.
But he pushed those thoughts aside as he took in her beautiful face and kiss-swollen lips, and within minutes they were rolling across the ground again, laughing and kissing and enjoying the snow.
On the back of the season’s first snowfall, December brought bitingly cold weather. Ginny wrapped her arms around herself as another gust of cold wind swept through the emptied corridors of the castle. Draco’s crimson sweater was thick, but she really needed to wear something warmer, as Peeves liked to open all the windows on the fourth floor.
Ginny knew everyone was at lunch or studying, and that this part of the castle wouldn’t see another soul for at least an hour, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t as alone as it appeared. The mere memory of Draco jumping out from behind a statue to thread his fingers through her hair and tease her mouth with kisses was enough to send a series of pleasant tingles down Ginny’s spine. Draco’s snog sessions had that effect on a girl.
A sharp sound cut off Ginny’s thoughts, and she stopped mid-stride to listen. It had sounded very much like a trainer squeaking on the cold stone floor.
The soft clearing of someone’s throat broke through the buzzing silence. Ginny whirled on the spot to see Harry slowly pulling off his Invisibility Cloak.
“Have you made any progress?” he asked briskly, tucking his cloak beneath his arm.
Ginny glared at him. “You’ve resorted to following me around in that thing? And for your information, I have not ‘made any progress.’ Could you please phrase it so I seem a little less like your spy?” Damn that Invisibility Cloak. Where else had he followed her? To her classes, to the library? Had he seen her with Draco yet?
“Ginny, we’re running out of time,” Harry told her calmly. His voice was so level and unconcerned that she wanted to take his bloody cloak and strangle him with it.
“No, you’re running out of time,” she corrected, turning on her heel and continuing down the corridor.
“No, we’re all running out of time. Narcissa is dying, Ginny, in case you’ve forgotten,” Harry said snidely, running to catch up with her as she stomped down the hall.
“I haven’t forgotten, thank you very much. Give me time, Harry. I just set things right with Draco; it’s going to take me at least a few days to bring it up with him.”
“Must you call him that?” Harry muttered, twisting the cloak in his hands.
“Call him what?”
“Draco.” Harry shuddered.
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m going to call him that, I – he’s my boyfriend,” Ginny snapped at him. She had started to say, “I love him,” but she had stopped herself. Why did I do that?
Brushing aside the nagging thought, Ginny huffed, “I don’t see why it bothers you. I thought you had gotten over your petty schoolboy rivalries.”
Harry stopped, staring at her. For the first time since he had returned, his green eyes shined with the regret that Ginny had so desperately looked for when he had first returned to Hogwarts. “That’s what you think this is about?”
“Isn’t it?”
“Merlin, Ginny, of course not. Have you forgotten what I told you this summer? Don’t you think this is hard for me, too?”
Ginny swallowed, stunned that he had brought up the summer. Panic began to claw at her chest; she had pushed the summer out of her mind. “You made your choice, Harry,” she answered slowly. And now I’ve made mine…
“I meant it then,” he continued, ignoring her comment.
“And I still do.” He started to come towards her but stopped, as if he thought better of it.
“Harry, stop it,” Ginny whispered. “Don’t do this.” Don’t dig up what I’ve kept buried so long.
“I can’t,” he said softly.
“I won’t think about it, Harry. Not right now. Just leave it alone. I’ll talk to you later. After I talk to Draco,” she told him in a harsher voice. She lifted her bag up higher on her shoulder and twisted away from him. Now wasn’t the time to revisit the past.
“Maybe later I could-”
“No, Harry,” she said firmly, turning to face him one last time. “I’ll find you when I need to.” She turned without looking back.
Draco cursed softly under his breath at the sound of his trainer squeaking against the floor. Damn these shitty shoes.
He felt, rather than heard, Ginny come to a stop down the corridor, and held his breath. He could picture her cocking her head, listening for the intruding sound again, her red hair falling to one side, and her nose wrinkling as she scanned the corridor. Draco leaned against the wall behind a statue and smiled at his image of Ginny.
He twirled the red rose in his hand nervously, waiting for Ginny to continue down the corridor so he could jump out and relive the previous evening.
An incongruous sound made his eyes snap wide open. Someone with a voice much deeper than Ginny’s cleared his throat softly.
“Have you made any progress yet?” Potter’s voice asked calmly. Draco felt his heart beat against the inside of his chest. Where the hell had Potter come from? Draco dug his fingersnails into the heel of his palm and strained to hear the sound of Ginny hexing or yelling obscenities at Potter.
“You’ve resorted to following me around in that thing? And for your information, I have not made any progress. Could you please phrase it so I seem a little less like your spy?” Ginny’s voice snapped, her words seeming far away. His spy? What the hell was going on? Why wasn’t Ginny blasting Potter and his balls into oblivion?
“Ginny, we’re running out of time,” Potter told her in that same ridiculously calm tone.
Merlin, Potter, running out of time for what? Draco’s heart continued to thud at an amazing speed in his chest.
“No, you’re running out of time,” she said loudly. Draco smiled at her angry tone, but then instantly refocused as her footsteps echoed down the corridor. He slid farther behind the statue, pressing himself against the cool stone.
Potter’s footfalls soon merged with Ginny’s as he followed her down the hall. Draco tightened his grasp on his pocketed wand. “No, we’re all running out of time. Narcissa is dying, Ginny, in case you’ve forgotten.” Potter’s voice came out in a sneer.
Draco inhaled sharply, his heartbeat coming to a complete halt at the sound of his mother’s name. How did Ginny know about his mother? What the hell were they talking about? What did Potter want from Ginny about his damn mother?
Draco’s own thoughts blared loudly in his head, and he had to slow his breathing to catch the end of Ginny’s response.
“… set things right with Draco; it’s going to take me at least a few days to bring it up with him,” Ginny said in a tense voice, her footsteps still growing closer.
Bring what up? What was she doing with Potter? What were they trying to do? And together! Draco’s vision began to blur red around the edges. One hand was still wrapped around his wand, the other around the rose.
“Must you call him that?” Potter all but whined. Draco let go of his wand, and grasped the statue tightly with his free hand to keep himself from jumping out and attacking Potter.
“Call him what?” Ginny asked, her tone lightening. Bile rose in Draco’s throat. He could hear her becoming more comfortable with him; he could picture them walking a little closer together.
“Draco,” Potter responded with a snarl.
“Of course I’m going to call him that, I – he’s my boyfriend.” Ginny’s tone roughened once more. Draco felt the iron hand gripping his heart unclench slightly, and he couldn’t help but let the tiniest flicker of a smile play across his lips. God, he loved her. He loved being the one that she belonged to.
She sighed. “I don’t see why it bothers you. I thought you had gotten over your petty schoolboy rivalries.”
Draco could imagine Potter trying to hide a scoff, trying to protect that squeaky clean image. His echoing footsteps stopped suddenly, and Ginny’s did only a moment after. An awkward silence engulfed them.
Potter said something softly, but Ginny replied in a loud, innocent voice that signaled childlike confusion. “Isn’t it?”
Draco could sense Potter struggling to say something important. His tone was light and pleading and desperate.
Don’t do it, you bastard. Keep your bloody hands off her.
His voice suddenly broke out loudly again. “Have you forgotten what I told you this summer? Don’t you think this is hard for me, too?”
Draco’s vision flashed red again, and he could see her flaming hair fanned out across Potter’s chest, the two of them lying barely clad and happy in the summer sun. He could see wildflowers braided into that long mane of fire, and he could hear their full and happy laughter. The pounding of Draco’s heart started up again, his stomach dropping sickeningly.
Ginny’s answer was slow and deliberate, as if she were trying not to cry. “You made your choice, Harry,”
“I meant it then…and I still do,” Potter said, his voice cutting hers off.
Their voices dropped to quiet whispers for a few moments, until Ginny’s slightly hysterical tone shattered the near-silence.
“I won’t think about it, Harry. Not right now. Just leave it alone. I’ll talk to you later. After I talk to Draco.”
The sound of his own name barely registered. What wouldn’t she do? What did Potter want her to do, and why did it sound like it was so hard for her to say no? Draco’s head swam with the dizzying questions.
Ginny didn’t want to be Potter’s spy. Potter obviously still loved Ginny. Ginny knew about Draco’s mother. Draco knew all these things and yet he couldn’t see how they were connected. Was Ginny…in on something with Potter?
After they uttered their tense farewells, one set of footsteps began its way loudly down the hall, and moments later the quieter set continued in the opposite direction.
As those footsteps seemed to reverberate in his very skull, Draco couldn’t form a single thought. His once whirring mind had stopped functioning, coming to a complete halt behind the statue of Mnemone Radford. Ginny…and Potter…and his mother. His mind could only produce blips.
As Draco stayed perfectly still against the cool wall, he hardly noticed his harsh, ragged breathing or that his heartbeat was so rapid that it felt as if he didn’t have one at all. He didn’t even notice that his fingers were so tightly wrapped around the brilliant red rose that blood had begun to trickle from between them.
Author notes: I have a lot of thank yous for this chapter. A big thanks to my lovely beta, Embellished. She has gotten me through two incredibly hard-to-write chapters. Another thank you to fallenwitch, who can talk me through anything. Thanks to all of my fans who continue to be supportive. Finally, the scene in the snow from this chapter was inspired by art by twinkly, which can be seen at her livejournal. Please leave a review on your way out!