A/N: This is the 3rd fic I'm working on and perhaps my favorite, only second to Unexpected, maybe.

Disclaimer: I'm not J.K. Rowling and I don't own anything here. Except maybe the plot. Maybe.

Time had had its effect on Draco Malfoy, now 26. His pale face was still pale, but now it wasn't so pointed and distaining. Understanding creased his face and wisdom had finally shown its mark. 26 is young to get wrinkles, but he didn't have wrinkles, he lines of thought. Draco was a faithful Death Eater and had followed in his father's footsteps after Lucius' death a few years earlier. He no longer looked for trouble, but it always seemed to find him. Draco answered directly to the Dark Lord, who, in turn, had placed his faith in Draco. For Draco had never done anything that would cause him to lose Voldemort's trust. He always completed whatever Voldemort asked of him.

Draco was one of the "lucky" few who didn't have a conscience. For Draco this was an advantage because had he a conscience he would be gutted. He viewed massacred bodies often, and, though he winced slightly whenever he thought of it, he created them. He was a skillful assassin. This was obviously helpful for Voldemort, for Voldemort had one of the most deadly men on his side. Although no one thought that Draco was even slightly harmful, the truth was that he was more harmful than they could ever imagine. The death toll caused by him was innumerable. Whenever he thought about what he did, which wasn't often, he realized that either he had no heart or that is just didn't work.

Because of his line of duty, Draco preferred not to have any relationships because it could alter his effectiveness. This meant romantic and platonic, he had severed all relationships from his former life and had not made any new ones (Who would want to be friends with me, anyways? He'd reason to himself.) He tried not to keep with the public wizard world by not reading any of the magazines (ie: Witch Weekly, The Daily Prophet, The Quibbler, etc.) and he did not gossip with the few wizards he talked to. In time he forgot who was who and who his friends supposedly were, in time he forgot about the world.

Draco would not take the risk of relationships affecting his job, but sometimes fate has other plans in mind. What Draco did not realize was that the fact that he would not take the risk didn't mean that he could not take it. Luckily, or unluckily depending on which way you're looking at it, fate realized this. Maybe it wasn't even fate, maybe it was just chance. He would never know, and he wouldn't care, either.

It was a very late Saturday night and Draco was just standing in front of an open fridge. He pulled out a prescription bottle of sleeping pills, opened it, and poured some into his hand. He didn't count, he didn't need to as long as they did their job. As the nights became longer, his dependency on the pills increased. At first he only needed to take one to knock him out for the night, but by now he was dry-swallowing pills by the handful. When he ran out of his prescription he would run around the track outside of his mansion until he was exhausted and he would continue to do this every night until a new prescription was owled to him. Normally doctors wouldn't encourage this kind of dependency or keep supplying he dependent patient. Normally doctors weren't under the order of the Dark Lord. These pills weren't normal pills, either. From the first day Draco had taken them the doctors had put in an addictive, unnecessary ingredient and Draco was quickly hooked; these pills were also very hard to make and took precision and time. Draco had less and less time between prescriptions as his addiction grew, Voldemort knew this and used it as an excuse to give Draco more jobs to keep him busy and if Draco had even a partial conscience before, it was quickly eradicated.

Draco soon felt the pills taking effect and wandered to his room. He attempted to lay in his bed, but there was one problem. Someone else was in it. He had no time, however, to ask questions as the full affect of the pill knocked him out cold.

"If you drop me, Draco Malfoy, I'll die." Said a 6 year old, red haired, freckled Ginny Weasley. She and a small blonde boy were outside of the Ministry of Magic parading around the statues. She was on his shoulders (he had dared her) and he was now swaying back and forth trying to steady himself. Both of their parents were in a meeting and at that young age they'd no idea they weren't supposed to be friends, they'd no idea the rivalry that would separate them, they'd no idea that both of their hearts would harden towards each other. They were only interested in the moment, and in that moment they were having the time of their young lives.

"Draco! I'll get hurt!" Ginny said, her voice raising slightly with a note of panic.

"Surely not, it's not that far down." Draco smirked up at her, "Maybe it'd knock some sense into you."

"Are you planning on staying upright?"

"I don't know, I don't think I'm strong enough." It was obvious he wasn't kidding, the swaying was becoming more violent and abrupt. She whimpered and clung to Draco's neck. Draco finally lost his balance and they fell backward into the fountain.

"You are by far the weakest 7 year old I've ever met." Ginny said crossly. Draco glared at her, he did not like being called weak.

"Maybe you're just to heavy for me, what do they feed you at your house?" Draco was trying to extricate himself from the fountain but she tugged his wet robes and he fell back into the water.


"Hey!" he yelled and splashed some water into her face.

"ARGH!" Ginny screamed and kicked water into his eyes. She giggled as he rubbed them but soon stopped when she saw how still he was. She pulled his hands away from his eyes and saw tears. "I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to hurt you." His big silver eyes glared up at her, not mad that she had hurt him but mad that she had seen him cry.

"Leave me alone!" he yelled and stomped back into the Ministry of Magic leaving Ginny confused. As most 6 year olds would do, she started bawling and just sat in the fountain until her dad came to take her home. When Arthur Weasley saw her wading in the fountain he rushed to get her out and dry her off. She offered no explanation and it was a good thing he didn't ask for one.

Draco's father had been outraged to find him soaked and asked him what had happened. Draco said he just fell into the fountain.

"You foolish, foolish boy," his father's eyes narrowed, "You know what is going to happen when we go home, don't you."

"Yes father," Draco whimpered and he immediately regretted ever meeting Ginny. He felt hot tears stinging his eyes so he turned to go to find a loo.

Draco woke up thinking he was still 7 and that he had just found the loos. But those weren't tears coming down his face, that was water. A young girl (around mid-twenties, he thought) was standing over him holding a wet washclothe over his face. She looked vaguely familiar but he couldn't think of where he had seen her before.

"Are you alright?" she said softly, then brushed her red hair out of her eyes. He just stared at her, "Uh, I guess I owe you an explanation, Malfoy."

He sputtered, "Excuse me?" his eyes widened as comprehension dawned, "Oh my God. Y-you're Ginny Weasley."

"Yes," she looked amused, "I quite think that I am."

"What're you doing here?"

"That's a long story, but I guess I owe it to you." She smiled sadly, her eyes were haunted, he noticed.

"Well, I guess it all started when your father gave me that book."

"What book?" Draco asked curiously.

"Tom Riddle's Diary," she paused seeing the surprised look on Draco's face, "Oh, you didn't know."

And she continued to explain how exactly she got into Draco's bed that night.

A/N: I'm not ready to reveal Ginny's story right now. But don't worry, it will be revealed. Eventually. Comment and critique, I don't mind flames.