It had always been just about that thrill. That one moment when both their hearts beat faster, and their breath caught. At least, that was what Draco tried telling himself.
Draco hadn't meant to become involved with a blood traitor, much less a Weasley. But it had happened anyway. Sometimes the thought occurred to him that she fit into him perfectly, but he quickly shook it away.
To his father, it wouldn't matter that her scent reminded him of sunshine and roses. It wouldn't matter that no one else could make him catch his breath with just a look.
To his mother, it wouldn't matter that he enjoyed seeing her blush, and he thought that he had never met a stronger woman. That he thought of making her smile as a privilege, and he was happy that he could do it so often.
So instead, he pushed any thoughts about caring or even love away, and focused instead on that moment.
Had anyone told Ginny that by her sixth year she would not give a damn about Harry Potter, and that instead her thoughts would be consumed by a certain blonde haired Slytherin, she would have certainly have you carted off to St. Mungos.
But now, she could not imagine it any other way. Though she had enjoyed her time with Harry, she would have traded it all in if it meant another minute with Draco.
His smirk alone made shivers run down her back, and he knew it. He knew the power he had over her, and he used it, thoroughly. But Ginny knew the power she had over him too.
She knew that if she kissed him right behind his ear, he would have to try very hard to suppress a groan, and that he was the most comfortable, the most relaxed, when they stole an hour away from their lives and he would put his head down in her lap and she would run her fingers through his hair.
While he got her attention through his bad boy attitude, her attraction through his dry humor and godly appearance, and her (dare she say it?) love through those moments when he looked at her as though in that moment he would do anything in the world for her, none of those things could win her family's approval, or even understanding.
And knowing that their love would never be understood, that their families would cast aside in one case and most likely kill in the other, if they found about this, they kept it secret. They didn't tell each other, didn't even whisper it to themselves except in the most perfect of moments.
In those moments when caring brown eyes met stormy gray ones, in those moments when soft pink lips met demanding red ones, when calloused fingers ran through silky red hair, when dainty fingers caught strong ones and just held them, only for the sake of showing wordlessly how much they meant to each other.
And it was in one of those moments, where Draco decided that nothing in the world mattered more than one red haired, muggle-loving, brown-eyed, laughing woman.