Draco felt Blaise’s eyes on him as he stared determinedly at his French toast. He knew that Blaise was dying to ask him if he had laid Ginny Weasley yet, but the tosser hadn’t plucked up the courage yet. It was no wonder he hadn’t been put in Gryffindor.

“Look who it is,” Blaise said suddenly, running his tongue over his lips disgustingly. Draco’s head snapped up, searching for a flash of red, but found none. It was startling, almost, to look around the Great Hall and not see red hair everywhere. There was a small first year with flyaway strawberry blond hair, but nothing like that flaming Weasley hair.

“Who?” Draco asked, still craning his neck to find Ginny.

Blaise smirked. “Just Natalya St. Claire. Not Ginny Weasley or anyone special.”

Draco clenched his fists beneath the table as Blaise’s eyes continued to follow the progress of the tall, curvy Hufflepuff as she crossed the hall. Blaise would be interested in morons like her. “Shut it.”

“Do you have her yet, mate? Because if you take too much longer, I might just snag her for myself. There’d be no comparison.”

“Absolutely, Zabini. I’m sure Weasleys just fall over themselves for people like you,” Draco sneered. “I hear she called you a poser last year.”

A flushed crept into Blaise’s cheeks, making his high cheekbones look even sharper than usual. “Who’s the poser?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Zabini, and I doubt that you do either, so I’ll just ignore your misplaced comment,” Draco said coolly.

Blaise glared at Draco but shut his mouth. When Draco had almost finished his breakfast, Ginny walked into the hall, carrying an overstuffed schoolbag and looking like hell. Her red hair was falling out of two shabby looking plaits, her tie hung loosely around her neck, her shirt was pulled out of her skirt and the bottom buttons weren’t done up, and her frayed skirt was short but hung low on her skinny hips. Draco felt something thud inside his chest. She certainly looked like hell, and part of him recognized it completely, but she looked wonderful in another sort of way. With her plaits and little skirt, she looked like an innocent schoolgirl, but her skirt was short and she looked as if she had thrown on her boyfriend’s collar shirt as she rolled out of bed, giving her a whole other sexy appearance.

Draco felt his head spin. Ginny Weasley was driving him mad.

Ginny knew she looked awful. She had woken up even later than usual and thrown on things haphazardly so that she didn’t have to miss breakfast. She could feel everyone in the hall staring at her as she made her way to the breakfast queue, and she could see the pitying looks of the Ravenclaw girls and hear the sneers of the Slytherins.

As she passed the table, she noticed that Draco Malfoy’s eyes were on her, and they looked anything but scathing. They were a little bit bluer than the last time she had seen them. The bright blue ring was still around the iris, but his whole eye looked a little less like steel and a little more like the sea before a storm. That turbulent gray-blue.

She held his gaze for a moment, tired of ducking her head and being afraid of him, and she was amazed at the tiny flicker of warmth that they held. There was a little bit of humanness that suggested fear and hope and longing. She felt her cheeks flush when he finally looked away.

She was scared when she suddenly identified that feeling that had been flitting in and out of her heart for a few weeks. That feeling of want. She wanted to help him. She wanted to be near to him and find out why he was the way he was, even if it meant getting a little bit hurt herself.

No, no, Ginny Weasley. There will be no more getting hurt. Enough boys have already taken your heart and smashed it to bits before your very eyes. No more.

She knew that didn’t change the fact that she had rounds with him that night, and it didn’t change the flitting feeling that now seemed comfortable staying in her heart.

Ginny must have been running late all day, because when she showed up for rounds she was still in her uniform. Her hair had been pulled out of its plaits, and it hung in messy waves down her back. Her cheeks were pink, and she was slightly out of breath.

“Hullo,” she said, panting slightly.

Draco nodded curtly. They began to make their way down a hallway, quiet as always. Draco felt his heart rate go up. He struggled to fight the feeling of want that was building up in his chest, constricting something painfully.

“Let’s check in here,” Ginny said, motioning towards an empty classroom.

She pushed open the door, which screeched loudly on rusty hinges, and they both entered an airy, spacious room. A row of desks were lined up along the back wall beneath a stretch up windows. It was very large, larger than any classroom Draco had ever had a lesson in. His eyes swept the room quickly. “There’s no one in here.”

Ginny nodded and she turned to open the door, but the doorknob clicked loudly and wouldn’t turn. Ginny jiggled it frantically. “It won’t open!” she cried.

“Move out of the way,” Draco said impatiently. He knew from the moment he grasped the knob that it wasn’t going to open. He sighed and kicked the door angrily. “We’re stuck.”

“Stuck?” Ginny squeaked, rocking nervously on the balls of her feet. Draco motioned with his wand at the door, but it remained the same. “Merlin,” she breathed tensely.

“What, Weasley?” Draco sneered, ignoring the sharp feeling in his chest. She thought him that horrible, not wanting to stay in a room with him? “Never been alone in a room with a bloke before? I don’t suppose Potter would have done anything less than chivalrous.”

Ginny glared at him. “Maybe I just don’t want to be here with you,” she snapped.

Draco felt that pang again, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Where is Potter, anyway, Weaselette? Weren’t you good enough? Weren’t you brave enough to go on his noble quest?”

“Shut up!” she said loudly, a mad look in her eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? Didn’t Potter tell you he didn’t want you to come?”

“Malfoy, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what someone must have done to you to make you so cold, but there’s obviously something wrong with you.”

Draco was taken aback. His head spun, and his memory flashed to a day when he was very young.

“Draco, just what do you think you are doing?” Lucius asked, his face white with rage. Draco cowered at the sight of the man he only saw every few months, now standing before him in a fury.

Draco mumbled something, tears beginning to fall down his face. He hadn’t known that the scrolls in the library were important. One even looked like a treasure map.

“Don’t cry! What’s wrong with you?” Lucius snarled, bringing the back of his hand across Draco’s cheek. Narcissa screamed and made to rush to him, but Lucius stopped her. He healed Draco and swept out of the library with a swish of his cloak. “Keep him out of there!” he yelled before Disapparating with a pop.

“You know nothing!” Draco snarled.

“Of course I do! You don’t think I know what it’s like to be ignored?” she asked, hysteria creeping into her voice.

“Like Potter? Potter ignored you for five years before he noticed you! He treated you like a puppy, like an adoring fan! And you just took it and let him step all over you!” Draco yelled.

“Harry loved me!” Ginny screamed, taking a bold step closer to him until her body was only six inches from his. “Can you say that about anyone?” she asked, looking him squarely in the eye.

He grasped her arms tightly, glaring at her with his gray-blue eyes. He pulled her body flush against his own. He could feel the throbbing of her heartbeat.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said bravely, her eyes boring into his.

“You should be,” he answered in a gravelly voice. And then he kissed her.