Hurrying through the halls, Ginny skidded to a stop in front of the Fat Lady, hissing "Mistletoe!"

"Out past curfew?" the Fat Lady asked, eying Ginny suspiciously.

"No, it's Saturday evening and not quite eleven." She waved her freckled hands expectantly. "But I will be late if you don't let me in."

Glancing over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being followed, Ginny scrambled through the hole as the portrait lazily opened, hurrying up to her room where she sprawled across her familiar bed in the Gryffindor girls' dorm.

The just-about-lumpy mattress had become more familiar to her than the narrow twin bed at the Burrow and for that, she was grateful. She had spent too many summers alone in that bed, pining away for Harry. She refused to let her face burn in embarrassment at that thought; no, she'd done that enough. She had told him when he had returned home after the war that she was no longer in love with him. Harry had gone off to save the entire wizarding world – and succeeded – but the problem was he had gone. And in the time he was gone he had transformed from the boy of her dreams into the man who saved the world. She didn't want the pressures that came with loving the man who saved the world.

And it had finally set in that he didn't want her either.

She had never been more grateful when Harry decided not to return to Hogwarts to make up his final year, but to hire a private tutor for his N.E.W.T.s. Hermione and Ron joined him. They'd asked her to join, but it felt like the offer was out of duty, not desire. She'd said no so quickly her mum and dad stared at her, but thankfully they hadn't questioned her quick decision. Ginny knew that in order to remain friends, she and Harry needed to be apart for some time.

Not nearly as many people as Ginny had expected were back at the castle, but that was okay; that meant there were less people to question her choices. It gave her a new sense of freedom to be there alone. No siblings. No Golden Trio. They hadn't been there during her sixth year, but she had spent the entire time worrying, wondering why all her efforts hadn't been enough to make Harry stay, foolishly stealing swords from the Headmaster's office (not Snape's office, which she still refused to acknowledge despite the fact he had died heroic. She'd seen the memories. They all had. But it was hard to erase the physical scars of the punishments she'd received under him.), reviving the DA, making sure the younger children weren't injured too badly. It never stopped. But then one day it did. Despite the damages to the castle which were also reflected in the people who lived within it, things were slowly returning to normal.

Far too many people had asked her why she'd returned to school, why she wasn't married to the wizarding savior. Her friends, her family, everyone she knew expected her to be popping out Harry's children by now.

She had tried. Merlin, she had tried.

Rolling over to her side, Ginny tried to clear her mind, letting her thoughts drift to the smooth back she had accidentally glimpsed less than an hour ago and allowed her fingers to skate across the sensitive skin of her stomach before remembering that it had been Draco Malfoy's smooth back.

She'd been in her favorite spot, minding her own business, so it wasn't like she was spying on him. In one of the tallest turrets of the castle, what was once a small peephole had been blasted out during the battle, leaving a great ledge that was plenty wide enough for Ginny to sit with her books to study or star gaze, or more recently, spy on Draco Malfoy. That night she had been staring up at the black winter sky, entertaining herself by trying to figure out which star exactly was the second star to the right and whether or not Hercules had truly been man or myth and if there actually was life on other planets. She'd been invited to play games with Luna and several other classmates, but she had declined. Sometimes games reminded her too much of Fred.

Ginny had just decided it was time to return to her dorm because the heating charms she'd cast were wearing off and despite the clear night, fat snowflakes were starting to fall, dancing silently in the air around her. There was also the small fact that a letter from her mum weighed heavily on her mind. Molly had owled to inform Ginny that she should pay Harry a visit as he was still single. Ginny knew that; if he'd found a girlfriend it would have been in every tabloid and rag in under an hour. While she was certain her mum didn't mean it, the letter felt like a hint that perhaps she should go try to tempt him back with her womanly ways. She'd ripped the letter into tiny pieces, throwing them into the fireplace. If only her mother knew that her womanly ways hadn't done a damn thing in her quest for Harry.

But as she stood to leave her tower, the distinctive sound of a heavy door shutting filled the night. Instinctively, Ginny grabbed her wand even though they were supposed to be safe now. But there was no one with her. She was still alone in the turret.

Closing her eyes, Ginny concentrated, trying to recall which direction the sound had come from. Gripping the edge of her seat with her free hand, Ginny craned her neck out, glancing around as far as she could see. That was when she spotted Draco Malfoy. If she'd had a broom, she could have reached him in only a few seconds. He was in the landing next to her, where the great clock stood. He just stood there, looking out into the dark distance. It should have made Ginny nervous, but instead she lowered her wand, watching him. Malfoy finally blinked, shaking his head lightly and moved to lean against one of the heaving railings, angled away from her. Ginny could only see his back and part of his profile.

She'd been just as surprised as everyone else when Malfoy returned to finish his N.E.W.T.s. Not many of the Slytherin's had. There were only fifteen, maybe twenty, in each year now; of all the houses, that one had the least amount of students. The ones who returned were fierce as if they had to prove that whatever the Dark Lord had done, it didn't have a thing to do with them. Ginny admired that. At the Welcoming Feast she'd been relieved to see Malfoy in the Great Hall. It took all the attention off her and the reasons why she had returned to the school. But unlike his classmates, Malfoy was quiet. Even in their classes together, she hadn't heard him say a word.

Ginny grew bored of watching him and prepared to leave again, but stopped suddenly as he pulled his thick jumper over his head because the shirt he wore underneath rose up and Ginny was treated to a momentary view of his smooth, pale back. It intrigued her far more than it should have. His bare back shone brightly in the dark night, glistening against the cold the same way the stars and the snowflakes did; two things she had considered pure and almost holy. Nothing about Draco Malfoy fell into either of those categories, but she couldn't tear her eyes away.

She stayed there, crouched somewhere between sitting and standing. She already knew what would happen. She was going to obsess over that sight for a week, and then she'd give in and attempt to draw it, sketching it over and over in the notepad she kept buried beneath her mattress until she was able to perfect it, making Malfoy's back as ethereal as the stars and snow.

Ginny snorted at the thought, louder than she meant to, laughing at herself for letting the poetry of it all cloud her judgment about him.

But he turned at the sound, and even as Ginny dove from the ledge, their eyes locked and for the briefest of moments, Ginny knew that she was on to something.

One of Ginny's dorm mates sighed in her sleep, causing Ginny to snap out of her pretty thoughts about a boy who was anything but pretty. She snatched her hand away from her body, her cheeks heating up at the thought of what she had been about to do. Draco Malfoy wasn't even worth a dirty fantasy.

The following week, Ginny was still trying to put the event out of her mind and not give in to the urge to draw. It had been easy, considering she was finishing up most her midterm papers and projects, but that Friday afternoon the castle had cleared out. Classes had ended until after the holidays, all her homework was done, and most of Ginny's friends had gone home. She had opted not to, simply because her parents would be in France with Bill and Fleur, since she was due any day and both sets of grandparents-to-be wanted to be there to welcome their first grandchild. Besides, she wasn't ready for a family Christmas. She didn't know if anyone was, not with Fred gone. Hermione had invited her to go on a skiing vacation with her family and Ron and Harry, and while it sounded like it was going to be absolutely hilarious, she wasn't ready to go hang around with Harry. Not yet. Probably not ever.

But the holidays must have been more important to people than she had realized this year, because as Ginny walked through the castle with the intention of getting a snack from the Great Hall, she didn't run into a single person. For a single dismayed moment, she wondered if she should go see Charlie and George in Bolivia. No, she quickly decided. As interesting as the dragons were, she had no interest in spending the holidays outside in the cold, trying to avoid being burned or permanently scarred by dragons – or the memories of Fred that were certain to arise.

The snacks that were laid out in the Great Hall were abundant, and she couldn't help but laugh out loud, considering she may as well have been the only student left in the castle.

The four house tables were no longer there; in their place were a few smaller round tables and one long, narrow table on the far side of the hall, filled with food, snacks, Christmas crackers and even two fully decorated Christmas trees. It was nice, she thought happily as she gave in to her chocolate obsession, picking up two pieces of treacle fudge, a cauldron cake and an apple for good measure. She eyed the silver tray of chocolate covered goodies, wondering just how many she could carry without making a mess. Ginny popped a red and green truffle into her mouth, savoring the explosion of flavors – raspberry, some mint and a hint of champagne – as she thought about how nice it was to have the holidays back. The castle still needed some repair, but the decorations were over the top, an effort to eradicate all memories of the last unpleasant Christmas spent there, she was sure.

Deciding that she wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon with her sketch pad, Ginny set out making herself a sandwich, layering the freshly sliced ham on two slices of thick bread. She wrapped the sandwich in paper, dropped it and the apple in her bag, then snagged another truffle and a tall mug of hot chocolate before turning to leave.

But as she spun on her heel to exit the Great Hall, she nearly spilt her drink on Draco Malfoy, who was standing right behind her. She slowly looked him up and down, keeping her expression neutral as she tried to hide her annoyance. She'd been fighting with herself all week, refusing to give in to drawing him, but right then, she knew she would.

"Hungry?" he asked, one eyebrow sharply arched, and she couldn't tell if he was serious or just being sarcastic.

"Famished." She reached over to grab another truffle, this one orange with blue coloured sugar crystals on the top, to prove her point.

But he said nothing as she side-stepped him, heading calmly out of the room. Instead of the snide comment she had been expecting, she could feel his eyes on her, burning a hole in her purple jumper. As casually as she managed to leave the room, her mind was racing uncontrollably, and her chest was pounding beneath her ribs. She hadn't been able to get that image out of her head, no matter how hard she tried. It was only the day before that she had decided he wasn't worth her time, much less her charcoal or paper, but suddenly she knew she was going to head straight to her ledge and draw him, just as she had seen him. After all, it was only a drawing. It didn't really mean anything.

When Ginny reached her ledge, she dropped her art satchel to the cold ground, placing her mug of cocoa and treats on the ledge before casting the strongest warming charm she knew. The snow wasn't falling at that moment and she was grateful because it was hard to keep her paper dry since she wasn't fabulous at bubble charms to keep it away.

Sitting down so that she faced the clock tower where she'd seen Malfoy that night, Ginny pulled out her sketch pad and charcoal sticks, immediately losing herself in the strokes on the page. She marveled at the way her memory translated to the page. She wondered if anyone else would recognize the figure on her page as Draco Malfoy. Despite the dark marks of her pencil, the person on the page shone brightly, emitting sadness and lonely that she wasn't even aware could translate to paper, even in the rough beginnings of her sketch.

When she glanced up again, filling in the background details of her drawing, Malfoy was standing there. To her surprise, he was in the same position as he had been the night before, his back to her so that she could only just glimpse his profile. Without taking too much time to wonder why he was back, she glanced down at her page, perfecting the lines of his body, but shading it from memory with the way it had looked that night, with the glow of the stars and snow around it. She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there, except that her cocoa and sandwich were gone and the warming charm was wearing off, nor did she know how long Malfoy had been standing across the way. All she could focus on was how amazing he looked on the page. The night she'd seen him, she had told herself he wasn't pretty. She had been right. He was completely stunning, breathtaking and heart-breakingly beautiful.

On the page, the sky behind him was illuminated by the snow and he gave off a faint glow of light and heat, but it was anything but warm. It was lonesome. Somehow she'd managed to get all of that on the page with a single stick of charcoal.

Ginny allowed herself a moment to stretch, gently placing the notepad on the stone ledge and standing, pulling her arms above her head, hearing a satisfying crack as her back popped. Finding her wand, she cast another heating charm before pulling her jumper over her head, using it to lean against as she settled back in to her spot. The forest green tank top she wore underneath might have looked silly with the snow drifts all around, but with her charm she was plenty warm.

She studied her sketch for a long moment, wishing she knew what her subject was thinking. Was he as lonely as he looked? If she did, she would try to incorporate it. She noticed the pattern in the stars she had placed behind him, wondering what constellation it was. It was familiar, but she hadn't paid enough attention in her astronomy classes to know; it just seemed to fit. Much to her disappointment, when she looked up, Malfoy was gone. Ginny bit back the annoyance she felt, reminding herself that not only was he unaware that she was sketching him but she had gotten everything she needed anyway.

Sighing loudly, Ginny cast a temporary sealing spell over her page so that it wouldn't smear and stuck the notebook back in her bag. Her stomach growled loudly, and as she glanced around, she realized the sun was sitting low in the west. She'd been up there for hours.

Before she could stand, the door to the tower swung open. Ginny looked up in surprise, expecting to find a lost second year who hadn't gone home for the holidays. Instead, the lean form of Draco Malfoy was framed in the doorway. She expected him to turn around and leave as his cool, silver eyes fell on her, but instead he calmly shut the door behind him, staring at her.

"Yes?" she asked testily, unable to stand the tense silence that instantly filled the spaces between them.

"I wanted to see your drawing," he told her calmly.

She wondered if she had ever bothered to pay attention to his voice before. It was the perfect combination of low tones and just raspy enough to send a shiver rolling down the length of her spine – although she credited it to the snow and her tank top. "No."

"Why not?" Malfoy tilted his head ever so slightly, and Ginny could have sworn she saw something akin to a smile playing on the edges of his lips.

She told herself it was a smirk. "Because it's mine."

"But it was of me."

"Deflate your head a bit, Malfoy. Why would I draw you?"

"That's what I want to know."

Ginny could feel his eyes lingering on her freckled skin so she crossed arms over her chest uncomfortably. "I wasn't." She stood to her feet, grabbing her jumper. "And I'm going to dinner." Ginny pulled the purple jumper over her head, not wanting him to ogle her any longer, and when she could see again, he was standing directly in front of her, holding out her bag.

"Want me to carry your bag?"

"No," she snapped, taking it from him and hating the way he made her feel so uncomfortable.

"Fine. I'm going to the Great Hall also though," he told her, that same small smirk playing on the edges of his lips.

"That's generally where dinner is served," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder and pushing past him. Even though she could hear his steady footsteps behind her as she descended the stairs, she didn't look back. She didn't look at him inside the Great Hall either, even though they were sitting only a few seats apart. Instead, Ginny spent her meal time actively chatting with her Muggle Studies professor about the differences in Muggle paints, knowing that it was one subject Malfoy couldn't chime in on.

It wasn't until Ginny had stripped back down to her tank top and knickers for bed that she realized her sketchpad was gone. After a brief moment of panic, she realized that Malfoy must have nicked it in the tower. Her panic soared within her. She could handle him seeing the portrait of himself, but there were a lot more things in that sketchbook she didn't want anyone to see. Besides the self-portraits she had experimented with, there were drawings of people that she wanted no one to see. The previous school year her art had been her only escape – and the only thing that had kept her sane – and Dean Thomas had come back into her life, more than willing to help out in any way he could. So had Michael Corner, she remembered, blushing furiously. While she had never shagged either one of them the naked drawings would suggest otherwise.

Jumping from her bed, Ginny grabbed a pair of shorts and pulled them on, throwing her robe over herself and ran from the room, barely remembering to grab her shoes as she did so.