Draco paced his dormitory, caught up in a whirl of emotions. He had already smashed and repaired his mirror twice, and he yelled loudly as he opened his door only to slam it again. He picked up the decorative porcelain snake that sat onto of the mantle of the Head Boy’s room and tossed it from hand to hand. McGonagall had prepared the room for him just days ago. His hand clenched around the snake and he hurled it into the fireplace, effectively smashing it into a thousand pieces.

He threw himself onto the bed and began to silently fume as he had for the past two hours. You just carried Ginny Weasley to the hospital wing. How the hell did that happen? He burrowed deeper into his pillow, almost suffocating himself. When he had placed her on the nearest bed, panting from the effort of carrying her and being so close to her, she had looked up at him with smoky brown eyes that were glossed over with pain. She had given him a half smile and mouthed “thank you”, before sinking into unconsciousness.

You’re going to hurt her to hurt Potter. It’s what you want. She trusts you now. You're just acting according to plan. He rationalized yet again. But he had recognized that terrifying feeling rising up in his chest again as tears poured down her face. Whatever it was made his eyes burn and his breath catch in his throat, and this unexpected flow of emotions was the most un-Malfoy-like thing he had ever felt.

Ginny stirred slightly and opened her eyes with great effort. It took her a few seconds to recognize that she was in the hospital wing. She tried to sit up, but her head throbbed painfully and she fell back onto her pillow.

Madam Pomfrey bustled in suddenly. “Don’t try and sit up,” she warned sharply, summoning a cup from her office with a wave of her wand. “Drink this.” She held the cup to Ginny’s lips, which were so chapped that they burned as the cool liquid rushed past them. She coughed as the liquid stung her throat.

“You gave me quite a scare,” Madam Pomfrey said in a scolding tone.

“What happened?” Ginny asked hoarsely.

Madam Pomfrey tutted. “You had a little incident with the poltergeist. Draco Malfoy brought you here.”

“What?” Ginny coughed the word.

“Mr. Malfoy escorted you up here. Carried you, actually.” She hurried to the next bed after giving Ginny an unreadable look.

Ginny tried to grasp what Madam Pomfrey had just told her. Malfoy? He had carried her? No way in hell. Her mind flashed suddenly and she remembered someone’s strong arms around her. She remembered those steel grey eyes. There had been the lightest shade of blue around the iris, something that she had never noticed before. They had reminded her of spring, when everything thawed ever so slowly. She smiled slightly at the memory, her lip splitting open painfully.

Ginny shook her head, which caused it to swim. Malfoy? The-world’s-greatest-ass-second-only-to-Harry-Potter? What am I thinking? Those eyes are nothing but cold and hard. He carried me here because he had to, he’s Head Boy after all. What an idiot I am to think that…She let the thought trail off in her mind. What had she been thinking? That he fancied her? Certainly not. That he cared for her well-being? Doubtful.

Nothing’s changed, she reassured herself. Malfoys don’t change. And Weasleys certainly don’t fall for their stupid tricks.

Draco turned in circles, not sure where to go. All he could see was white; it was everywhere. He didn’t know which way was up or down. He tried to yell for help, but his voice caught in his throat at the sight of someone making their way to him through the mist. The figure was cloaked in black, and their face was hidden beneath a hood.

“Draco,” a voice called out. It was the most melodic, beautiful voice he had ever heard. He walked towards it slowly. The figure reached up and pulled down the hood. Flaming red hair fell out of it and tumbled down the girl’s back. Ginny Weasley smiled at him.

“Hello,” she said, touching his cheek with a soft hand. Her cloak fell away suddenly, although he wasn’t sure if she had removed it or he had. She wore only a green shirt, which he recognized as his own, underneath. Her milky legs were softly dusted with freckles, and her pink lips curled into a small, pouty smile. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and leaned forward…

Draco awoke with a start, his whole body dripping with cold sweat and his heart pounding erratically. What the hell was that?

He shook his head, trying to clear away the image of Ginny in a shirt that was hanging in his closet only a few feet away. He could almost feel that silky, red hair in his hands and he punched his pillow in anger. What was wrong with him? Ginny Weasley meant nothing to him. She was a stupid, little bint who followed Potter around like a dog on a leash. He wanted to use her, and that was all.

Yes, he smiled, that’s all.

Ginny picked the tasteless food on her plate. She couldn’t understand what was wrong with her. She didn’t sleep well, her food tasted like parchment, and she couldn’t concentrate in lessons.

She scanned the owls that were swooping around the Great Hall for some sign of Hedwig. She didn’t expect Hermione to write to her, but it didn’t stop her from hoping. She suspected that Harry had forbidden her brother and her best friend to make contact with her. What an ass.

“Ginny?” Julie said in her whiny voice that almost always phrased her statements as questions. “Someone…um…is staring at you?”

“What, Julie?” Ginny asked in a tired voice.

“Draco Malfoy? You know, the Slytherin? He’s staring at you?”

Ginny whirled abruptly in her seat, but Malfoy was staring at his food. A faint pink tinge had appeared along his collar, and Ginny didn’t doubt that he had been staring. “It’s ok, Julie. I’m sure it was nothing.”

Why would Malfoy be staring at her? Why would he care at all? No, wait, not care, just pay attention. Care isn’t in his vocabulary. And for this year, it isn’t in mine, either.