Summary: What if Ginny grew a spine long before Harry's fourth year? Would it mean full acceptance with the Golden Trio? Would it stop her from opening the Chamber of Secrets? Would it spark Harry's interest far earlier than sixth year? Or, perhaps most importantly… would it mean a years-long secret friendship with Draco Malfoy that becomes far deeper than either of them ever expected it to become? And when all hell breaks loose with Lord Voldemort's return, will it be the only thing that keeps them alive? D/G, leads up to post-HBP with horcrux search; canon events in a slightly AU light.

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling!

Forbidden

The Holidays Before Ginny's First Year

When she looked back on it, ten-year-old Ginevra Weasley didn't remember quite how she had become separated from her family on their annual Diagon Alley Christmas shopping trip. All that mattered was that she had, but more importantly, somehow… she had ended up in Knockturn Alley. At the time, she didn't even know that she was in Knockturn Alley. All she knew was that she was in a dark, dirty, and entirely dodgy place on a dark, cold, cloudy day, and she wasn't entirely sure how to get back.

Luckily, the littlest Weasley's winter cloak had a hood, and she knew how and when to use it… especially when many a grizzled old man had begun ogling her in a wholly disturbing way. Throwing the dark material up to cover most of her face, she managed to keep to the shadows of the streets, avoiding as many people as she could. She didn't know how much time had passed while she wandered in search of a way back, past sinister window displays, more dark, narrow alleys…

That was when Ginny Weasley first saw Draco Malfoy. As she had, for as long as she could remember, had the uncanny but usually deadly accurate ability of sensing a person's general aura, Ginny felt him, more aptly: Frustration, embarrassment, and desperate loneliness. In that order.

Her head snapped to the right.

Down the constricted alleyway that bordered one of the "nicer" pubs was a platinum blond boy who looked to be only a little older than her, his back to her, dressed in dark, expensive-looking robes. The odd thing was that, for all his regal appearance, he was limply standing, his shoulders slumped, in a circle of green that seemed like it had been drawn into the snow-covered stones around him. He didn't have a cloak, and even from behind, she could see that he was hugging himself, shivering in the frigid winter air.

The nutter… if he was cold, why didn't he just go inside?

Overwhelmed by curiosity, Ginny padded down the alley. It was littered by only a rubbish bin and some stacked crates. The harpings of her mother about not wandering off were still fresh in her mind; one of the reasons she hadn't simply asked the first person she had seen for directions on how to find her way back to Diagon Alley was because anyone she voluntarily walked up to here had looked like they would have been more likely to kidnap her than help her out. She wasn't quite as nervous about talking to someone her age, though…. and someone whose aura didn't blatantly read 'evil!'

He didn't seem to hear her approach, so she slowed and cautiously stopped a few feet behind him. "Erm… hello?"

With a speed that was would have made any of her Quidditch-playing brothers jealous, the boy's slumped form snapped up to a formidable height. He spun around, pale, narrow features setting into a scowl as soon as he saw her. "What do you want?" he snapped icily.

Ginny quickly took a step backward at the viciousness of the question and the way that the boy was staring at her so coldly… until her surprised hazel eyes were drawn to a deep purple welt on the left side of his face. "I… I just – What happened to you?" she blurted out.

"Come to stare, have you?" he sneered, heatedly brushing some of his once-slicked-back hair out of his face where it had been partially hiding the large bruise, as if the force of whatever had caused said bruise had jolted it out of place. "Well, guess what, you little brat? The show's over, so you can just go back to wherever you came from!"

A good amount of her concern melted into indignation. Who does he think he is! "How – how dare you! It was just a simple question!" the ten-year-old spluttered angrily, crossing her arms. "Why would I want to look at you? If you must know, I was going to ask you for help, which I'm not quite sure I want to do anymore!"

A gust of icy wind swept through the narrow alleyway, chilling even Ginny in her warm-enough cloak to the bone. For a moment, the boy continued to glare at her, but his aura of nastiness was significantly diminished when he shivered. Appearing to be battling his dignity, he finally wrapped his arms back around himself for warmth. "None of your business," he muttered in answer to her original question, but his voice wasn't nearly as cold as it had been before.

Hm. Since he was so obviously cross about being outside, perhaps he was… trapped? Ginny frowned at his slender, trembling form. Indeed, it almost looked as if he was locked within the boundaries of the green circle. "Well… do you need help?" she asked.

"Not from you," he retorted derisively, his face blank as he stared at the snow crunching around his feet.

Strangely, after her initial outburst, Ginny didn't find herself getting annoyed by his scornful tone. If anything, she was beginning to feel sorry for him. His aura had not changed to 'bad;' he was still simply frustrated, embarrassed, and lonely. What had happened to him, to make him fight kindness with fire? "So… that's it, then," she said slowly. "You're just going to stand here."

"That's right," he instantly said so vehemently it was almost a snarl. "I'm just going to stand here and freeze like the ruddy failure of a son that I am, because I'm going to take my punishment like a man." As soon as the words exited his mouth, a sour, taken aback expression briefly crossed his face like he couldn't believe what he'd just said.

Suddenly, things became much appallingly clearer for the little girl. "Your parents did this to you?" she gasped.

"Not my mum," he muttered quickly, still staring at the ground.

Ginny was still horrified. "But your dad, then?"

He continued to stand stiffly and didn't reply, his face still drawn into a cold mask of indifference. After a moment, she drew her cloak more tightly about her and asked softly, "How long have you been out here?"

Again, the boy didn't say a word; didn't even look at her. A minute later and on the verge of snapping, Ginny was about to ask him if an alley cat had got his tongue when he responded roughly, "Since morning."

Morning? Sweet heavens, that had been… hours ago! The sky was quickly darkening; it must have been at least four in the afternoon! At a loss, she stood there wondering what to say. Asking him if he was cold or hungry would be pointless, because he most certainly would be…

"Well, it could be worse. At least it isn't snowing," she offered brightly. When he simply muttered something under his breath and shoved his bare hands up his sleeves, she asked, changing the subject, "How… how much longer will you be here?"

"Why do you care?" he growled caustically, but his heart no longer seemed to be in the insult behind it.

The redhead sighed. He's not exasperating, he's not exasperating, he's just… being difficult. She didn't know how she could tell, but, somehow, she could sense it as clearly as she could his aura. Wordlessly, she tugged off her gloves and held them out to him. "Would these help?"

The boy's gaze rose sharply and quickly moved between her small face and the gloves. After several seconds, he hesitantly tugged one hand out of his sleeve and reached out… and a spark of green ignited between his fingers and the gloves the moment he touched them.

Swearing words that Ginny had only heard come out of Bill and Charlie's mouths, the boy swiftly yanked his hand back, nursing it against his chest. She bit her lip and drew her hand back as well, an apologetic smile quirking at her lips. "Sorry."

"It doesn't matter. I can hardly feel anymore anyway," he said dully. Shoving his hands back into the sleeves of his robe, he muttered quietly, "Thanks… for trying, though."

Ginny smiled warmly. "You're welcome. Sorry it didn't work."

"It's alright," he mumbled. Shivering and pulling his robes around him more tightly, he abruptly turned himself so that he was facing away from her slightly. "You… you should go," he said in a low voice. "If my father comes back and finds you here…"

He trailed off, but she got the point. If his father was willing to beat up his son and leave him outside in the middle of winter, then she could hardly expect him to be any more accommodating for a ten-year-old girl that he didn't even know, could she? "All right," she reluctantly consented with a nod. She started to turn, then glanced back up at him. "Oh, might you by any chance be able to tell me how to get back to Diagon Alley?"

The boy looked back at her, true surprise etched on his previously emotionless features. "You don't mean to be here?"

"Mm-mn." Ginny shook her hood-covered head, rubbing her hands together for warmth before pulling the gloves back on them with a slight twinge of guilt. She winced slightly. "My family is probably going barking mad, too. Mum'll really give it to me when I get back, but it'll be better than wandering around in this place for the rest of my life."

"Figures, you hardly act like a Slytherin," he muttered to himself before he glanced at her curiously. "You don't go to Hogwarts, do you," he said, phrasing it as a statement rather than a question.

She smiled brightly. "Not yet, but I start next year!"

He snorted and rolled his eyes, intensely studying her face once again. "Well, let me put my bets in early. Cheery, optimistic, sickeningly caring, and walking around Knockturn Alley like it's the next great adventure. Hm, let's see, what does that leave us? Oh! That's right; no doubt you'll be in Gryffindor," he sneered.

Alright, so maybe he is a bit… irritating. "Better than being in Slytherin," the redhead shot back, quickly inferring from his sudden question, the green tie under his robes, and his general rudeness that he obviously was.

His eyes darkened as if she had personally insulted him. "Listen, you little brat, do you want my help or not?" he spat frigidly.

Her eyebrows flew up, but instead of cowering under his icy glare like he probably expected her to… Ginny Weasley laughed. For a second, the boy looked thunderstruck, then like he was about to risk crossing the green circle just so he could lunge at her and ring her neck, which incidentally only made her double over and laugh harder.

Finally, she gulped in a lungful of air and straightened up. "No… I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing at you," she gasped, catching her breath. "It's just… being that mean must take so much energy… Wouldn't you rather conserve it, even if that meant being relatively civil to me?" she asked in a more serious tone.

For a good thirty seconds, the boy stared at her as if she had turned green and grown an antenna. "You thought that was funny?" he finally asked disbelievingly without answering her question.

"Well…" Ginny frowned and thought to herself. "All right, maybe it wasn't that funny," she conceded reluctantly. Though Merlin knows you need a few laughs to wipe that scowl off your face. "But it sounded funny at the time," she protested as his eyebrow raised, "and I thought I'd offer you the point anyway."

He shook his head incredulously. "Little brat," he muttered again, still shivering, but his right lip had quirked into the slightest of smiles. It faded quickly, though, as he pointed won the alley and continued in a flatter, toneless voice, "When you go out of this alley, turn right. Stay on that street until Borgin and Burkes. It's a… specialty shop. Turn left. That's it."

"Right, left. All right, I've got it." She nodded to herself, then focused back on him again. Her smile, however, faltered just a bit when she again caught sight of his half-beaten face. "Well… Good luck, then." After a split second's hesitation, she added, "It was… nice to meet you." Sort of. When you were semi-nice.

By now, he had completely turned his back to her, but after a moment, Ginny heard him mutter, "It was nice to meet you, too." He paused before he turned his head back toward her slightly and added, more roughly, "Get out of here, brat."

Ginny almost choked. His ability to switch between barely-there courtesy and blatant rudeness in a heartbeat was something she had never run into before; among all her brothers, none, not even Fred and George, had such a talent. Here we go, back to the Ice Man again, she thought with a sigh. But he almost smiled!

She dearly wanted to ask him why he chose to be mean when he had just as much ability to be nice, but she wisely chose against it. Instead, she walked out of the alleyway without looking back.

The thing was, she had every intention of returning.

Three Hours Later

Draco Malfoy was quite certain he had never been so cold or so hungry for such a long period of time in his entire life. Most of him had already gone numb, and it only got worse as dusk fell. He had crouched into a ball hours earlier, soon after the girl had left him, but it hadn't done much good, seeing as there was hardly an ounce of heat left in him to keep him warm.

The girl.

He forced his numbing mind to think of the little brat. Despite his derogatory title for her… he had never quite met anyone like her before.

His father's friends had always brought their sons around even before he had begun at Hogwarts, and the two mountains of muscle and absolutely no brains had leeched onto Draco the moment he had stepped on the train. The girl his parents had been trying to force down his throat for years, and who had thrown herself on him as quickly as Crabbe and Goyle had – his lip curled at the thought of her advances; gods, he was only eleven – was absolutely revolting. Too whiny for her own good. Not that he had a right to talk.

But this mysterious girl… now she had been rather interesting, even though he hadn't really gotten a proper view of her, what with the ruddy hood on her head. Foreignly naïve and considerate. At least she'd been able to speak in complete sentences. Draco was in a foul mood, with good reason, and he'd tried his damnedest to intimidate her, but it hadn't worked. Instead, she'd laughed at him! Of all the bloody nerve…

Vaguely, he wondered which family she was from. She must have been a pureblood, or at least a half-blood, to know about Diagon Alley before she got her school letter.

He gave up thinking about her or much of anything else save his lack of food and freezing body as night fell. The fact that very shadowy, truly frightening-looking characters had begun moving with more frequentness near the mouth of the alley only scared him more, though he'd only admit that over his dead boy. He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth's chattering from worsening.

Still… what if – what if one of them saw him before his father came back –

"Hello again."

Draco leapt so violently in surprised alarm that he nearly suffered another electric shock. Just as quickly, he scrambled back to the center of the glowing green ring, and, fighting to move his numbed joints, he jumped to his feet… and came face to face – almost – with the same girl who'd come before.

Swiftly, he hid utter shock behind a sneering mask. Was she – Was she stupid? Honestly, did she want his father to start beating on her, too? Not to mention what would happen if some of the loonies in Knockturn Alley found a girl wandering around...

"I t-thought I t-t-told you to get out of h-here!" he hissed, scowling to himself when his words emerged through his chattering teeth in a stutter.

To Draco's complete astonishment, the girl laughed and waved her hand as if she was in the midst of one of his mother's Victorian tea parties. "I went to Flourish and Blotts. Before mum nearly boxed my ears, of course," she noted with a frown. Draco swore he could hear a smile in her voice. Could people even talk like that? "They had a book on magic circles. Apparently, a person being held inside one of them can only be given something from the outside if the outsider willingly steps into the circle…"

As she continued to speak, her voice became hollow in his ears. He distantly noticed that she had begun to move closer, but the blond was too cold to care. A bitter gust of wind rushed through the Alley, and he actually quaked. He hated, hated showing this sort of weakness, especially in front of girls… especially this particular girl. His father would have been even more disappointed, but he couldn't help it, he couldn't control his shaking body anymore. He was… he was so cold…

"… so would you mind if I – er – came in your circle?" Ginny finished.

The boy didn't respond, save haltingly crouching back down into a shivering ball and wrapping his arms around his knees. The ten-year-old let out a groan, looking down at the bulging paper bag in her hand. It wasn't much, but it had been all she could afford while managing to sneak away from her family once again.

She looked back over at the boy. "Hello?" she repeated more slowly, as if she was talking to her recently departed – and very hard of hearing - grandfather. "Are you alright? Do you mind if I come in?"

After a few seconds, his words partially muffled because he had shoved his face into his knees, he simply choked out, "S-S-So… S-So c-c-c-cold…"

And this one's beyond talking to, Ginny thought to herself. Though the boy hadn't exactly been nice, if she could help him, she would, and a second later she was stepping into the magic circle without his permission, crouching down across from him and setting the bag on the snowy ground. The circle had been made tiny as it was, so she was practically on top of him almost immediately, but…

Carefully, somewhat cautiously (she had no idea how he would take it), the little redhead scooted up right next to him and reached her arms around him, wrapping him into her hand-me-down but generously-sized cloak. To her surprise, he didn't scornfully refuse her help, but, shivering violently, remained stiff but unmoving in her arms.

Well… that worked out better than expected, she thought with a small smile, closing her eyes and carefully resting her chin on his shoulder. For at least five minutes, she huddled there with him until she felt his shaking lessen enough that she could reach down for the bag.

"Here," she said, pulling out a thermos and offering it to him. Wordlessly, he took it from her with still-shaking hands and clutched its warm exterior. "Hot chocolate," she explained when his silence continued. "Right from the Leaky Cauldron. I had some, too, before I ran away again – Mum is probably going to murder me when I get back, but anyway… It's good."

Draco blinked in disbelief. She had risked coming back into one of the most dangerous alleys in England and being on the receiving end of her mother's wrath, apparently… for someone she didn't even know? Definitely going to be a Gryffindor."Bloody hell, you are insane," he muttered, but he gratefully began to gulp down the thermos' contents.

Ginny pulled away from him slightly, the extra material of her cloak slipping from around his shoulders, and had to set one of her gloved hands on the ground for balance. From this close, she could see that his eyes were a strange silvery-gray. In a way, he looked strangely familiar, as… as if she had seen someone or someone related to him before. "What's your name?" she asked curiously.

As if she had pushed a button, he stopped downing the hot chocolate and lifted his chin proudly, his shoulders straightening even in his crouched position. "Draco Malfoy."

Instantly, Ginny's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening. That white-blond hair… she should have known! Ron had written home fuming about some 'blond-headed Slytherin git,' and she had seen her father return from work storming about 'that Malfoy bloke' on more than one occasion. Ohhh, Ron, Dad - Mum too, probably- would not be happy right now…

"You've heard the name, I see," Draco observed with a proud smirk, watching her closely as he continued to clutch the thermos in his shaking fingers.

Whoops. Have to watch myself. "Once or twice," she returned just as carelessly. She didn't know why, exactly, her family had a problem with the Malfoys, but she figured to keep to the safe side for the rest of the time. "Well…" She smiled. "I'm Ginny W –" Erm, last name maybe not such a good idea. "Just Ginny," she added hastily.

"'Just Ginny,' hm?" He raked his eyes over her again, but now that he was dark he couldn't see anything over her pixie nose, with the hood she was wearing. He tried to recall what he'd seen of her face before. It had been pale but pretty enough, with a dusting of freckles… Merlin's beard, she'd better not be a Weasley. No. They can't possibly have any more children, he decided. "Are you a pureblood?"

"Yes," she said slowly, and, frowning slightly, pulled a croissant from the bag and offered it to him. "Although I don't know why it matters to you whether I am or not," she said while he threw all decorum aside and scarfed it down hungrily.

"It… matters a lot," he finally stated conversationally, delicately licking any remaining bread crumbs off his fingers to make up for the crude way he'd eaten it. "You're better than half of the other filth in this world. Don't know what I would have thought of you if you weren't one."

Instead of being flattered to receive an indirect compliment from someone as aristocratic as a Malfoy,the Ginny girl stared at him for several beats and then simply said, "Oh," drawing out the "Oh" for at least ten seconds in the exact same tone of his father whenever he had just realized something horrible.

Draco frowned. What did 'Oooohhhh' mean when she said it like that? "What?" he demanded defensively, probing her face, but then she was standing up and stepping backward out of the circle, taking the now-empty bag and thermos with her. "What did I say?" he snapped again and jumped to his feet, irritated that she wasn't answering him. He was used to being answered immediately.

"You're from one of those families who are really into blood heritage, aren't you," she said slowly, her expression unreadable.

Good Merlin, don't let her be a mudblood lover! He could have groaned, though he didn't know why whether or not her beliefs aligned with his suddenly mattered so much. "So what if I am?" he sneered, again on the defensive. "Do you have a problem with that, brat? Clearly you do, since you care so much about your precious mudbl—"

"Wait a minute," she interrupted him firmly. Draco again gaped at her. No boy or girl his age, except Potter and his stupid little friends or anyone who didn't know better, of course, ever had dared to interrupt him, Draco Malfoy! As if she was completely unaware of this, the little witch continued calmly, "Just because I don't fancy the idea that purebloods are automatically the best doesn't mean I'm judging you for fancying it."

The unruffled edge to her voice was boarder-line infuriating. It somehow managed to remind him of Dumbledore, and even though it was only half a year in, he couldn't stand the loony old bat already. He scowled to keep his confusion from shining through. "How can you not think you're better than them?" he asked scornfully, clenching his hands.

Strangely, her lips twisted into an equally infuriating small smile. "How are you so sure that you are?"

Draco could have let out a frustrated scream. He desperately wanted to reach out and shake some sense into her, but now that blasted circle was between them. She had seemed like someone he might have actually been willing to befriend, and now she had to go off and – and pull something like this!

"I'm so sure, as it is, because my father's always told me how we're better," he informed her with a haughty edge. As it was, he couldn't help bragging a little. She was, after all, quite pretty, in a bland way… "Mudbloods have nothing when compared to us. We're smarter, richer, more powerful – Father's shown me everything. And now the bloody idiotic Ministry is letting in muggleborns so they can ruin the old ways!" Crossing his arms with an air of certainty, he leaned back on his heels and waited for her to agree with him.

"Your father told you, did he?" Jenny – no, Ginny eventually replied softly in an unexpectedly disappointed tone. Draco looked at her quickly, his eyes narrowed dangerously, as she gave him a… it was almost sad, her smile. "The same man who hits you across the face, leaves you outside for hours on one of the coldest days of the year without a cloak, trapped in a circle in one of the most dangerous Alleys in England, without food, without telling you when he'll ever come back?" she asked quietly. "And you still believe, without question, what he tells you to believe?"

Draco's mouth fell open, shut, opened again, and shut just as quickly. As much as he would have loved to rub it in her face, that she was dead wrong, that she knew nothing about him, absolutely nothing… he couldn't.

Because every single horrible thing that she had said had been true.

When he didn't reply, didn't even move, actually, Ginny sighed heavily. "Listen, I'm sorry, but I have to get back now or my parents really will lock me in the house for life." She gave him another one of those regretful yet genuine smiles and turned. "I hope your father comes for you soon, and Draco…" She glanced back at his tall, motionless form. "I really hope I helped you."

And then she left… leaving Draco Malfoy something that he had never been in any moment of his eleven short years.

Speechless.

A/N: I'll only say this once so it won't become repetitive and annoying. Reviews would be lovely! We authors adore them. Please tell me what you think of the chapter or ask any questions you may have!