The castle was cold and drafty so late at night, but Ginny didn't care. All she could think about was getting her art pad back from Malfoy. He might tell people what he'd seen in it, but no one would believe him unless he had proof. Then she'd be in trouble.

She nearly flew down to the dungeons, stopping short when she reached the hall where she'd seen nearly every Slytherin in the school over the years. She had no idea exactly where the entrance to their common room was, and even if she did, she didn't know the password. Something that felt suspiciously like crying bubbled up inside her, but Ginny fought it down. It wasn't quite curfew. Most likely, someone would come along and she could simply trail them in.

"I wondered when I'd be seeing you."

Draco Malfoy's voice cut through the cold darkness of the dungeons.

"Where is it?" she demanded hotly, spinning around. "Give it back."

"It's in my room," he told her, stepping from the shadows. "Why are you so upset? Everything in there was quite good."

"I know it is," she snapped through gritted teeth, clenching her hands into fists. "But it's mine. You had no right-"

"To what? To see the drawing of me?"

She sucked in a noisy breath. "Where is it, Malfoy?"

"I told you, it's in my room. If you want it, go get it."

"Fine." Ginny felt like she was going to collapse. "Where is your room?"

He studied her so long she wanted to scream at him. "This way." He nodded curtly and walked past her, down the long narrow hall of the dungeon until he reached the very end.

She didn't even comprehend what he was saying as he muttered a password and the stones slid open, revealing a large room that almost glowed green.

"We're under the lake," he told her casually, noticing her expression as she took in the room. "It makes for interesting lighting."

"I just want my sketchbook," she said, trying to keep the desperation from her voice.

"I looked through it," he told her, continuing to walk down a narrow hall that jutted off to the left of the common room. "Everything is very good. I'm just not sure why you decided to draw me. Everyone else in there seems to be someone you knew... intimately."

If Ginny could have curled up in a ball and died of embarrassment, she would have, but she wasn't about to do it in front of Malfoy. "I saw you in the clock tower when it snowed last week. It was just an interesting image." She hoped she sounded casual, not confessional.

Malfoy tapped his wand against a tall wooden door and it swung open for them.

"Why do you have your own room?" Ginny asked suddenly, frowning.

"Because we have no head boy this year; there aren't enough of us."

"So you just took the room?"

He nodded, shameless. "No sense in letting it go to waste."

He held the door open, and Ginny reluctantly stepped in, wishing she'd remembered her own wand as he shut the door behind them.

Her art pad was lying open on his bed, far enough over that Ginny would actually have to touch his bed to reach it. As she stepped forward, she realized it was open to a self-portrait she had done. She had been so angry at that time, and it had come across in the deep reds she'd used to shade her hair and even in the golden browns she'd chosen for her eyes. While it was a good drawing, Ginny had never been sure if it was a good self-portrait. The person on the page was absolutely gorgeous and there were days that Ginny doubted she was even pretty.

"That's my favorite," Malfoy told her calmly. "Well maybe my second favorite."

It took everything she had to keep her face from erupting in flames. She didn't have to ask what his first favorite was. That smirk at the edges of his lips was back and she knew it was the sketch she had done of herself the day she had decided she would try nudes. There wasn't that much to see in the drawing, but it was obviously her and she was obviously naked. The thought of Draco Malfoy knowing what her breasts looked like was not a good one.

"That's great," she said flatly, moving across his bed to get her sketchbook as quickly as she could. Ginny snapped it shut, standing back to her feet. "Don't touch my stuff."

"You drew my constellation behind me."

She stared at him blankly for a moment before it hit her. The stars in her portrait of Malfoy were the Draconis constellation. "Yes, well, it fit."

Malfoy was silent as she moved across his small room, grabbing the door handle. It wouldn't open.

"Damn it, Malfoy," she said, turning around to face him, done playing games. "Let me out."

For the briefest of moments, Ginny thought she saw disappointment flash over his face but before she could decide, he lifted his wand lazily and the door popped open. She had to jump back to avoid being hit, but scowling over her shoulder, Ginny left his room. She headed back to their common room, and once she was there, she paused long enough to see if all her drawings were still intact.

The self-portrait Malfoy had been referring to was gone.

Spinning on her heel, Ginny dashed back to his room.

The door was open, and he was still leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on her the instant she entered as if he had been expecting her. "Give it back."

"I tried to talk to you about it," he told her, his voice infuriatingly calm, "but you took off."

"There's nothing to talk about," she hissed. "Give. It. Back. Now!"

He shook his head slowly, though his eyebrow was cocked in surprise. "I want it."

"No! You can't have it. That was private, not for everyone to see."

His pale eyebrows arched lazily as his eyes swept over her. "I'm not everyone. I'm Draco Malfoy."

"It definitely wasn't intended for you to see," she said, feeling desperate and uncomfortable.

"I'll buy it."

"It's not for sale!"

"How much do you want for it?"

"You have got to be kidding me," Ginny told him quietly. "There's no amount of money I would accept so that you can ruin me."

He shook his head, his blond hair floating gently. "I'm not trying to ruin you."

"Then what do you want?"

"The picture."

"Besides that," Ginny said, trying to inject all the steel she could into her words.

"To know why you draw nudes. To know why Ginny Weasley, the golden child of Gryffindor, has drawings of naked classmates in her sketchbook."

"I'm not the golden child," she said crossly. "That was Harry."

"Potter's gone," he said, sounding suspiciously like he was trying to stifle a laugh. "So now it's you."

"It's not, but that isn't the point. If I tell you will you give it back?"

"Maybe."

"Promise."

"How about if you answer all my questions, then I'll give it back?"

"Deal," she said immediately, relief filling her.

"Have a seat," he said, smiling slightly. "I have a lot of questions." Malfoy opened the cabinet on the wall as she sank slowly into a high-backed, dark green chair, watching him. "Here." He tossed her a bottle.

Ginny looked at the label, wondering why he would be stupid enough to hide liquor in his room. Didn't he know that he was still being watched, especially after what had happened last year? "No questions about Harry though," she said quickly, uncorking her bottle.

"It's a bit late for bargaining, don't you think? You already said yes." He sat down across from her and uncorked his own drink.

"Fine," she said bitterly, her voice moving to monotone autopilot. Without waiting for his question, she answered the one that seemed to be on everyone's mind. "Yes, last year was hell on earth at the school but I chose to come back anyway. Everyone thought it must have been extra horrible for me because Harry wasn't here, so why would I come back this year when I could be with him? I'm supposed to be married to him by now, having his children, so who cares about N.E.W.T.s?"

"Is this really what people ask you?" Malfoy said mildly.

"That's why I'm back though. Because he's not here. I'm better off where ever he's not. I need to concentrate on me for once in my life, and if I have to do it here, then I will. At least I'm alone." She felt herself slump back in her chair, shocked that she had said those things when she'd spent so long trying to hide them, and horrified that she'd said them to Malfoy.

"I have no interest in Boy Wonder whatsoever. Only you, so it must be your lucky day."

"Oh yes," she said, rolling her eyes. "How lucky can I be?" Ginny tucked her legs beneath her and pulled her robes over them, trying not to blush at her emotional outburst.

"You don't have to wear your robes," he said as if she hadn't just treated him like her personal diary. "We're not in class."

"I'm fine," she said shortly.

"First question," he said, taking a long drink. "Why draw nudes?"

Ginny looked at her own bottle and lifted it to her lips before answering him. "Why not nudes?" she challenged. "The human body is art."

He nodded slowly as if he were deciding whether or not to believe her. "Didn't you date both those blokes?"

"Yes. But not when I was drawing them. I drew them last year."

"They just posed for you?"

She nodded, swallowing another gulp of the sweet liquid. "We needed something… some kind of escape then. I need my art."

For a second, Draco looked pained. "I suppose."

"Next question," she said, wanting to get it over with, waving her hand at him in a hurry up motion.

"Why them?" His tone was flat and guarded, but to her ears, it also sounded strained.

Eying him suspiciously, Ginny took another sip from her bottle, letting the liquid warmth fill her. "Because who else was I going to ask? I'm comfortable with them. They're comfortable with me." She could see the next question on his face, written clearly in the lines that formed when his eyebrows were drawn together and his lips were tense. It wasn't the question that surprised her; it was the fact that she could read him well enough to know what it was that bothered her. Draco Malfoy was pretty much an expert at keeping his face a blank mask. "Go on. Ask it," she told him as if she didn't care. "I know you want to."

He looked at her, his eyes dragging slowly across her body and pausing on her legs, as if he knew what she was wearing beneath her robes. "Did you ask them because you were sleeping with them?"

Ginny couldn't help but smile, despite herself. "It's absolutely none of your business, you know. But I want my drawing back, so I'll tell you. No, I never slept with either of them." She laughed, feeling slightly silly and slightly bitter. "And as for-"

"I wasn't going to ask about him," Malfoy told her, sneering. "That I don't want to know."

"Yes you do," she told him, draining her bottle. "I can tell by the way you're looking at me. You might even want me, but of course you'd never want Harry's seconds." But the moment she said it, she knew she was wrong.

One of Malfoy's eyebrows arched so high it looked painful. "I don't give a shite about Potter. The fact that he's alive means nothing to me. I'm only glad that the Dark Lord is dead. So don't bring his name up again." His eyes swept over her. "Because it seems that you feel the same way about him that I do. And perhaps you shouldn't drink so fast."

"Perhaps you shouldn't steal other people's belongings," she managed to say, stunned at his perception.

"Touché," he said, an actual smile flitting across his lips before disappearing. "Another drink?"

"Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Possibly. It seems it's the quickest way and least dangerous to get to know you."

"This is not getting to know each other. This is interrogation," she informed him, taking the bottle he passed to her.

Malfoy finished the remainder of his first drink before opening his second. "You don't seem to mind."

"Why would you want to get to know me anyway?" Ginny asked, running her finger around the rim of her bottle. She had been suspicious that it was only to dig for information on Harry or just to hurt her. "I don't think we've ever actually spoken to each other."

"I'm sure we've thrown around a snide comment or two."

"I'm sure," Ginny said, laughing without meaning to. "But besides that. And stop avoiding my question."

"I'm the one who is supposed to be asking questions."

"You're good at this. But I'm not going to forget. So answer."

Malfoy looked at his bottle for a long moment, as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen and then glanced up at her. "Why wouldn't I want to get to know you? You're currently the single most interesting person in this place."

If Ginny hadn't of known better, she would have called the intense expression on his face lust or seduction or maybe even a smolder. But that was something straight from a romance novel. Surely Draco Malfoy wouldn't try to pull such a silly move on her. "Am I now?" Ginny nearly laughed out loud at her thoughts and shook her head. "And here I was assuming that you thought you were the most interesting person you knew."

"Oh I am," he answered haughtily. "But sometimes it's good to get to know other interesting people."

"Why'd you come back this year?"

"Why did you come back?" he shot at her.

"Because it's my final year," she told him calmly. "But not very many Slytherins came back to redo theirs. Just you and a few others."

"How else would I have completed my N.E.W.T.s?"

"A private tutor; same as all the other Slytherins." She could feel the weight of her drink now, the effects of it on her speech, her thinking and even her movements. Everything seemed just a little bit more entertaining, a little less real.

"That's not what you said earlier. Not because it's your final year," he said softly.

She swallowed hard, realizing that she didn't exactly feel sad or angry about Harry anymore. Just tired, possibly foolish. But those feelings would fade, she was certain. "At least here my mum isn't breathing down my neck, asking me how things are going with... him. I wanted to finish anyway, but as soon as I found out he wasn't coming, I knew I'd be here. Here I don't have to spend all my time avoiding him." She looked up, holding his gaze. "I thought you didn't want to talk about him."

"I don't. I want to talk about you."

She smiled wryly, knowing it was the alcohol. "Unfortunately for you, part of the answers to your questions involve him."

"Then we won't talk about those," he said smoothly.

That was a first. While she wasn't certain she believed him, it was still a relief to know someone out there wasn't interested in her history with Harry. No matter where she had gone the previous summer, it felt like everyone wanted to ask about him.

"You have lovely legs," he told her slowly. "I don't know why you insist on covering them up. You should wear more skirts."

She followed his gaze, noting that the bottom half her robe had fallen open. It didn't expose very much, but the look on his face made her blush. "Nice, Malfoy."

"My name is Draco. Feel free to start using it at any time."

The quiet, deep rumble of his voice made her blush deepen as she pulled the robe back up, ready to tuck it between her calves. Their eyes locked and in that instant, she could see that she knew absolutely nothing about Draco Malfoy. Nothing at all. Ginny finally managed to move again, securing her robes and sitting up stiffly, forcing herself not to squirm. "Did you, um, have any more questions?"

He watched her without answering for what felt like a lifetime and Ginny had to work to hold herself together under his gaze.

She tried reciting potions ingredients and when that didn't work, attempted making mental lists of everything she knew about rare magical creatures, but it wasn't helping either. She lifted her drink to her lips again, chugging faster than she meant to.

Ginny didn't like the way he look at her – fascinated, as if he had a secret or maybe knew something about her that he wasn't going to tell. His blond hair fell almost into his eyes, making it harder to figure out what he was thinking, and Ginny wondered what happened to the perfectly groomed person he'd always been. He was no longer wearing those hideous black suits that she assumed he wore in an effort to be more like his father, but looked almost like a normal person in jeans (that were no doubt ridiculously expensive) and a Falmouth Falcons shirt. Almost. She wasn't sure if Draco Malfoy could ever look normal, not with his skin that was so pale she would describe it as translucent and his silver eyes. And then there was the fact that he was a complete arse. And the fact that she was sitting in his room, getting tipsy in an effort to regain her drawing.

"If not, I should go," Ginny told him, finally breaking the silence as the logs in his fireplace crackled loudly. "It's well after curfew."

"You'll get caught," he said calmly. "Filtch doesn't rest during the holidays."

She couldn't help the nervous laugh that escaped her lips. "All I want is my sketch back, Malfoy. I mean Draco." She guzzled the rest of her bottle nervously and placed it on the table between them, wincing as it clattered loudly.

"Fine," he said stiffly. "You can have it. One last question."

"Okay," she said, feeling relieved. "What?"

"Would you kiss me?"