Chapter Two

For half a second, as Ginny stood in that pub and stared at Malfoy—as he looked up and met her gaze—she was sure he had recognized her. But though it seemed as though time had slowed, though the moment seemed to last an eon, it really was just half a second. Just a fleeting glance in her direction, and then Draco turned his attention back to his customer—Ron.

Ron. Ginny managed to tear her focus away from Draco, and looked at Ron. If he had noticed her enter the pub, he made no show of it, and she was rather impressed to see how casually he chatted with Malfoy, not a trace of tension in his posture. He looked totally relaxed, and Ginny, reminded of why they were here, walked casually up to the bar and took a seat.

She would have liked to sit a little closer to Ron, so she could hear what they were talking about, but the only free seats were the two right next to him, so she sat further down, nearly at the other end of the bar. She kept her sunglasses on, but pushed back the scarf fastened around her head just enough so she could keep an eye on Malfoy and Ron from the corner of her eye.

It was still so surreal. Watching the two of them chat. As she watched, Ron made some comment, gesturing wildly with one hand—she hoped he wasn't overdoing it—and then Draco threw back his head and laughed. Laughed. Her brother and Draco Malfoy were chatting and laughing together.

Ginny zeroed in on Malfoy, trying to get her head on straight. She looked for some sign on his face, something etched deep there, some twitch around his mouth or some darkness in his eyes, anything to suggest that he, too, was playacting with Ron. She looked for stiffness in his shoulders, some tightness to his grip on the wet rag he used to wipe down the bar. But there was nothing. She watched his face as he listened to whatever inane thing Ron was saying now, and there was no flicker, no recognition, no contempt.

It was like he really was a different person.

She turned away slightly, thinking it over. There are other possibilities to take into consideration when an undercover operative disappears, Harry had said. Such as him possibly going native. Though she hated to admit it, Ginny couldn't believe that of Malfoy. Nott was right about that much. But—

A similar, less extreme possibility is that he's simply abandoned his assignment. Whether because something spooked him, or maybe he just…Maybe it got too hard.

That, Ginny could believe. Draco might not have it in him to return to the Dark Arts and the violent life that entailed, but that he might run? When things got hard or dangerous? That she could definitely believe. That had Draco written all over it.

Or, she thought to herself, maybe he really was hit by a powerful Memory Charm. And has no idea who he is.

"Drink not to your liking?"

Torn out of her thoughts, Ginny looked around and suddenly realized Malfoy was standing right in front of her. And had just spoken to her. She stifled the urge to look over at Ron, her grip tightening on her glass. "What?"

Draco nodded at that same glass. "Your drink. Haven't seen you take more than a sip of it since you walked in. Just thought you might like something else."

"Oh." Ginny tried to relax, loosening her hold on her glass. Her palm was slick with condensation. "No. I'm fine."

Draco nodded. There was a bit of a grin playing at his mouth—not a smirk or a sneer, like he usually wore, but a blasé, playful grin. "So. Who're you hiding from, then?"

"I—what?" Get a grip, she told herself.

"Well, I hate to tell you—" Draco leaned forward, speaking in a low tone of mock conspiracy "—but your disguise is a bit conspicuous."

Ginny stamped on a surge of annoyance, hearing Ron's words echoed back at her. "Oh?"

"Just a bit. So, who're you hiding from?"

He didn't even sound like himself. Something about his accent—it was a little less posh, a little less clipped. More informal, lazy even. Distracted by this observation, Ginny said, "Old boyfriend."

Damn it. Why had she said that, of all things?

"Is he here?" Draco asked, lifting his eyes to briefly scan the room.

Ginny cleared her throat, pausing to think on her reply before speaking this time. Maybe she could use this. "I'm not sure," she said carefully, "but I was told he's been seen around here."

Draco's gaze found her face again. "What's he look like?"

Ginny thought this answer over too, before she said, "A bit like you, actually."

The grin playing at his lips broke open into a full, roguish smile. "Handsome, then?"

"Well, he thinks so, anyway."

Draco laughed openly at that—just as he had with Ron, he threw back his head and laughed. Ginny was glad for the sunglasses now, because they were large enough and dark enough to hide any shock in her eyes. Seeing him laugh like that really was just too weird. He just looked so relaxed, the dim glow from the lights over the bar warming his face, so relaxed and so carefree.

"Well, I'll keep an eye out for him." Draco winked at her—actually winked at her—and spared another nod for her glass. "And let me know if you change your mind."

"Sure."

And then he was gone. Without a backwards glance for her, he turned his attention to other customers. Ginny sat and nursed her drink for another few minutes, and then, as Draco sidled back down to Ron at the other end of the bar, she slipped out of her seat and left.

She didn't wait for Ron—he'd know to head back to the hotel and meet her there. Instead, she started back alone, and was glad of it, because she was still reeling from that two-minute encounter with Malfoy.

It had to be real, this memory loss. He really didn't know who she was, who Ron was. He couldn't have looked her in the eye like that, with no recognition…he couldn't have lied that well. Not because he wasn't a skilled liar, but because…she'd know. Wouldn't she?

She'd know if he was lying.

She'd know.

SIX YEARS AGO

It was over. The battle was won. Voldemort was defeated. Harry had won. Harry was…alive. The despair that had threatened to overwhelm Ginny, when she'd thought he was dead, had been dulled but not abated. In the flush, triumphant minutes following Harry's victory, Ginny had actually wondered why that was, why she still felt hollow inside. But of course, though Harry was not dead, others were. Tonks and Remus, Colin Creevey…

And Fred.

And even as everyone celebrated the death of Voldemort, a fresh, swooping wave of pain hit Ginny anew. She wasn't the only one; the general feeling in the Great Hall, she thought, was one of bitter triumph, victory mixed with sorrow. A profound sense of loss was there, but also the stoic, solid resolve that they would all soldier on, that the wizarding world would recover, mend its wounds and come back the stronger.

But Ginny didn't feel strong at the moment. She felt brittle, like a broken glass hastily pieced together. Harry was still down in the Great Hall, too surrounded by friends and supporters to get to, and that was all right; they would have plenty of time together later. She'd left her family behind in the Great Hall too, huddled together, huddled together in their grief and their comfort, their grief over Fred, their comfort in each other.

But Ginny had slipped out of the Hall. She wanted a moment to herself. A moment to fall apart, she thought, but she was climbing the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, utterly alone, and she hadn't fallen apart yet. She couldn't seem to shed a single tear.

She tasted fresh, billowing air as she ascended the last few steps, emerging out onto the open top of the Astronomy Tower. For a whole, wonderful ten seconds she felt a gentle breeze roll past her, teasing the ends of her bedraggled hair, and in that moment, the world—this world without Fred—did not seem so bad.

Then a flash of movement caught the corner of her eye, and she turned.

Draco Malfoy froze where he was, halfway round the tower from the top of the steps. She thought he must've been trying to sneak off before she saw him, judging by the arrested look on his face, which he quickly smoothed over, his expression becoming unreadable.

"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked. There was no heat behind her words, though she would have liked some. She looked inside herself for some anger, some rage, but just like the intensity of her sadness, it was gone. No, not gone; just buried so deep inside, so numbed by exhaustion, that she couldn't find it. "I thought you'd be long gone by now, you and your parents."

"Shows what you know," Malfoy said, but his words, too, lacked their usual bite. As though he was as weary as she was. "My parents are down in the Great Hall with everyone else."

Ginny blinked at this, aware of the silence opening between them as she failed to answer. She would've thought the Malfoys would have taken off, gone on the run, once Voldemort was finished; they were Death Eaters, after all. And yet somehow, in the wake of everything that had happened in the last twelve hours, she didn't find it all that strange.

"So why aren't you with them?" she finally said.

"What business is it of yours?" Draco retorted, but again, his comeback seemed rote, without any real hostility.

Ginny grasped for some anger, some contempt, somewhere inside of her. She didn't know why she was so desperate for it, only that, standing up here, alone with Draco Malfoy, the morning sun beating fiercely down on them, bathing the tower in a beautiful, pale blush light…it didn't feel real. None of it. And if she could just look at Malfoy like she always had, as an enemy, then everything, all of it, would be easier to bear…

But she came up empty. The fact was—and it was not a happy thought—she had no anger left for Malfoy. She had not forgotten that he had covered for her, in this very same place, four months ago, when she had been pursued by Crabbe and the Carrows. For all his pretense that it meant nothing, and though she'd snapped at him for it, enough time had passed that she could see what he had done clearly: he had covered for her. And perhaps it had not been much, but it was more, far more, than the Malfoy she had once known would ever have done.

And yet. And yet here they stood, in the same place. Not just the same place he had covered for her, but the same place he had faced down a weakened Dumbledore and meant to kill him. By Harry's account, Dumbledore was already dying, and Draco had not gone through with it, after all—but he wasn't blameless. He'd let Death Eaters into the school, and Fenrir Greyback, who had savaged her brother…

Her brother. Her brother Bill, yet at the thought, a tide of loss swept through her again, rocking her so hard that, for a moment, she thought her knees might buckle. And it was not for Bill, of course, but for Fred. Fred. "It's just a bit weird, isn't it," she said, and it was more for something to say, for a distraction from her pain, that she spoke at all. "That you keep coming up here. I wouldn't think you'd like the reminder of what happened the night Dumbledore died."

For the first time, emotion registered on Malfoy's face, and it was shock, pained shock. "I didn't kill him."

"You were going to," Ginny shot back.

"No, I wasn—" Malfoy broke off, swallowing his words. He looked paler than ever, and she could see something going on behind his eyes, something he was wrestling with.

"You weren't going to?" Ginny knew this. She'd heard, from Hermione, who of course had a first account from Harry. Harry didn't think Draco would have gone through with it, but right now, Ginny didn't care. She was grasping for normalcy, and attacking Malfoy was normalcy. "Why not? Too much of a coward to see it through?"

For a moment, Malfoy didn't seem to have heard her. He still had that look in his eyes, that internal struggle. Then his gaze zeroed in on her with startling directness, and his expression was one she had seen before, an ugly scowl. "Is that what you think? That I'm a coward for not murdering him?"

Ginny warded off a flinch. Of course she didn't really think so, but she hadn't expected Malfoy to come back at her with that.

Malfoy shook his head. "It doesn't matter to you, does it?" he demanded. "I can't win with you people, no matter what I do. It doesn't matter what I do—"

"What do you care?" Ginny snapped. "What do you care what I, a filthy blood traitor, think of you?"

Malfoy didn't answer right away. When he did, it was an expected, familiar response. "I don't care, Weasley. I don't give a damn." And he swept past her, stalking down the stairs, vanishing from sight, just as he had done the last time they'd been together here.

Ginny stared after him in numb shock. Not because of what he'd said, of course. But because, she was sure—very sure, though she couldn't have said why—that Malfoy had just lied to her.

He did care what she thought of him. Very, very much.

NOW

Ron didn't come back to the hotel until a few hours after Ginny arrived. By then, she'd showered, changed clothes, and mostly managed to compose herself. When Ron entered the room, she was lying flat on her back on her bed, her eyes closed and her arms folded over her stomach as she tried to remain cool in the too-warm room.

"Well, I don't know about you," Ron said as he shut the door, without any pretext at a greeting, "but no way does Malfoy remember who he is. I certainly couldn't have done that, acted like I don't hate the git—"

"You did act like you don't hate him," Ginny reminded him, without opening her eyes. "At least, I hope you did."

"Yeah, but I was prepared, wasn't I? Malfoy didn't know we were going to walk into that bar, no way he could have. No way to know we were even in the country. But I watched his face from the moment I sat down, he wasn't surprised to see me at all. Which would make sense, if he had no idea who I was."

"Hmm." Ginny pondered all of this with growing unease. The truth was, she had felt the same, only now that Ron was saying it, somehow she felt less certain. "He is a far better actor than either of us, Ron—"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. It's only Malfoy—"

"Don't give me that," Ginny said sharply, her eyes flying open. "Malfoy has skills neither of us have, Ron. He's excellent at Occlumency, he figured out how to mend that Vanishing Cabinet sixth year—he knows how to put his feelings aside to get a job done, is all I'm saying."

Ron looked at her curiously. "What did he say to you, anyway? I saw you two talking—"

"Nothing…. Just asked if I didn't like my drink, because I hadn't really touched it. That's all."

"So? You thought he was faking?"

Ginny sighed and, with grudging slowness, sat up. "No, actually. I didn't see any sign that he knew me either. And I watched him when he was talking to you, he seemed completely relaxed, so…"

"I wonder though." Ron sat down on the edge of his bed. "At one point, he did almost seem…I don't know…more like himself. I mean, it's almost like he was baiting me—"

Ginny swung around to face him. "About what?"

"What? Oh." For some reason, Ron suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Erm. Well, it wasn't much, really. He just, er—after you left, I mean—he asked me if I'd noticed you, down on the other end, and I said no, of course, didn't want to look suspicious, and he said that was too bad because he thought—well—that you were—er—quite pretty," he finished lamely.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Malfoy said I was quite pretty?"

"Well, those weren't the exact words he used—"

"So what exact words did he use, then?"

"I don't remember, okay?" Ron suddenly shot to his feet, scowling. "I'm just saying…it's like he was trying to get under my skin."

For some reason, Ginny felt her ire rising. "Because there's no way Malfoy would ever find me attractive, is that it?"

Ron stared at her, flabbergasted. "Do you want Malfoy to find you attractive?"

"Don't be stupid."

"I'm not being stupid, you're the one acting weird—"

"I am not," Ginny snapped. "Now go take a shower, you're all sweaty."

Since Malfoy didn't seem to be in any danger, Ron was all for leaving him alone for the night and deciding how next to approach him in the morning. Ginny, however, didn't like the idea of leaving Malfoy alone—not because she thought he might be in danger, but because if he was faking his memory loss—for whatever reason—and had recognized them, then it was very likely he would scarper. So while Ron stayed in and got some sleep the first half of the night, Ginny changed into a blue silk blouse and a pair of short, low-heeled boots, brushed out her hair, and returned to the Irish pub, ostensibly just to keep surveillance on Malfoy.

She intended to do a bit more than keep surveillance, though.

At half past ten, Ginny stepped into the pub for the second time that day. Only this time, she'd left her scarf and sunglasses behind, and this time, she went in through the front door.

Without the sunlight to blind her, she was able to get a better look inside the pub as she entered it. It was a kitschy place, but not overly so, playing into the "Irish" theme in a nostalgic sort of way, without any garish, touristy type stuff. Still, Ginny gathered it was the sort of pub that drew mostly on a tourist crowd, which probably explained why it was so empty, late at night. It was the sort of place tourists stopped for lunch and locals met friends for an afternoon beer, not a dingy, hole-in-the-wall pub that might cater to seedier types. A small gaggle of people sat together at a table in the corner, but the rest of the tables were unoccupied.

Draco was still there, working the bar, though he had only one customer, a scrawny man with lank hair. He was seated at the end of the bar, where Ron had been earlier. Draco wasn't talking to or serving this customer, but instead leaned against the side of the bar, chatting with another employee. Ginny took care not to stare this time, but she was sure Draco had seen her as soon as she'd walked into the pub, and when she slipped into the same seat she'd been in earlier, Draco broke away from his coworker and sidled over towards her.

"I see you've ditched your disguise," he said without preamble. He had that same, roguish grin playing at his lips. "Ex-boyfriend not around after all?"

Ginny took her time replying, hanging her purse off the side of her chair before she said, quite calmly, "I don't think he is. And besides, if I'm wrong, I think I can handle him."

"I'm sure you can."

Ginny narrowed her eyes a little, but when she spoke, she injected a playful note into her voice as well. "What does that mean?"

"Just that you seem like you can take care of yourself," he said nonchalantly. As the coworker he'd been talking to disappeared into the back, leaving them more or less alone, Draco crossed his arms over the bar, leaning towards her a little. "So. What can I get you?"

Ginny cocked her head to the side. "Whatever you think I'd like, I suppose."

Draco laughed at that. "I suppose this is where I make you something original and amaze you with my mixing skills," he said ruefully, "like all the cool barkeeps do in the movies. But I'm afraid my skills aren't that developed yet, I've only been at this for a few weeks."

"Oh?" Ginny tried to sound only mildly interested.

"Still, let's see, something I think you'd like…how about a…gin and tonic?" he asked.

Ginny didn't let a muscle twitch on her face, though she did look Draco over rather closely. But his expression didn't alter either; he only smiled, his eyebrows raised a little expectantly.

"Sounds perfect," she said.

He didn't say anything as he fixed her drink, as though he really did need all his concentration to get it right, even though fairly simple.

"So," Draco said, as he finished up and slid the glass over to her, "I haven't seen you around here before. Just on holiday?"

Ginny sipped at her drink and answered his question with one in return. "How do you know you haven't seen me? Maybe you have and just don't remember."

"I don't think so." His good-natured tone was suddenly a little deeper, tipping over from playful to flirtatious. "You see, I'd never forget a face like yours."

Still sipping her drink, Ginny lifted her eyes over the rim of her glass, meeting his. "Are you sure about that?"

"Oh, yes." Draco's gaze was intense, almost sultry. "Very sure."

"You have that good a memory?"

Just like that, Draco suddenly faltered, uncertainty flashing through his eyes. It was gone in an instant, but it was enough; the spell was broken. He looked away. "About some things, I do."

Ginny was suddenly, forcibly reminded of the night she'd encountered Draco in the stairwell of the Astronomy Tower, of the vulnerability on his face when she'd mentioned him torturing the other students. He wore the same vulnerability now, she realized—it was not so clear on his face, but it was in his demeanor, his slightly hunched-in shoulders, the way he fiddled with the glasses below the bar. And she couldn't help it; it tugged at her heart, to see him like this. If he really had lost his memory…if he really had no idea who he was…what would that be like?

Terrifying, she thought. Utterly terrifying.

"Well," she said, hearkening back to his initial query, "it's true, I haven't been around here before. But I'm not on holiday, I'm here on business."

"That's a shame," Draco said, regaining some of his jovial demeanor. "But then, evidently you've been able to get away for some time on your own."

"I have, yeah."

"So this old boyfriend of yours," he said, as he wiped down the counter a bit, "I take it by your avoiding him that he was something of a prat."

"You could definitely say that," she said wryly.

"What did he do that was so awful?"

Ginny looked him over, again seeking some sign that this question was not as blasé as it seemed. But Draco's posture was relaxed, his tone casual, and when he set his rag aside and turned back to her, his eyes gleamed with innocent curiosity.

"To be honest," Ginny said, and it was hard to say, even to a Malfoy who didn't remember or know her, "we were never really together. I thought we might be, but…in the end, I suppose I just wasn't good enough for him."

Real disbelief showed on Draco's face. "I beg your pardon?"

"Or maybe it wasn't me, so much as my family." Ginny shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure."

"That's bollocks," Draco said bluntly.

Ginny smiled as she took another sip of her drink. "You think so?"

"I know so." His playful grin was gone; he looked quite serious now. "If that's really true, then the bloke wasn't worth it."

Ginny felt a little…disarmed at the conviction in his words, a little undone by the intensity in his gaze. "You don't even know me."

"Doesn't matter," Draco said simply. "I've learned enough, just in the past few minutes. Any man that thinks you aren't good enough for him has an inflated opinion of himself."

"Well, that's certainly true," Ginny mumbled, more to herself than to him.

He set his arms on the bar and leaned towards her, much closer this time. Ginny stifled the instinct to pull back, even as something inside her…fluttered…at his proximity.

"You know," he said, his voice husky, "I would never think you weren't good enough for me."

Ginny swallowed and opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, something…prickled…at the back of her neck. It was intuition, some deep instinct speaking to her, warning her, and she looked around just in time to see the scrawny man at the end of the bar pull a wand out of his coat.

Everything happened at once. Ginny gave Draco a hard shove in the chest and pulled out her own wand, just as the scrawny man shouted, "Stupefy!" Draco stumbled back and ducked below the bar just in time to miss the jet of red light that shot over the counter and bounced off the wall, shattering several bottles of liquor. Ginny heard screams from the remaining patrons seated behind her, and in the brief moment it took their attacker to turn his attention from Draco to Ginny, Ginny pointed her wand at him and shot off a Stunning Spell of her own. It hit the scrawny man square in the chest, and he slumped over, slipping off his bar stool to fall in a heap on the floor.

It had all happened in a few noisy, heart-pounding seconds, and now that it was over, utter silence fell over the pub. Ginny lowered her wand just a little as she turned in half a circle, surveying the scene. The place was deserted; the handful of Muggles occupying the table in the corner had gone, and the other employee hadn't returned from the back. Ginny thought she should probably check on her to make sure she was all right, but first she needed to see to—

Draco. Ginny was still holding her wand as he slowly emerged from below the bar, his hair damp and his shirt spotted with drops of liquor; the bottles on the shelf had exploded right over him. She expected to see shock or disbelief on his face, but he only looked wary, and then she glanced down and saw it.

He was holding a wand too. His wand.

A rush of alarm trilled through Ginny, and before she knew what she was doing, she raised her wand and leveled it at Malfoy, taking a step back to face him head-on. Draco didn't seem to notice right away; he, too, was surveying the scene. Then his gaze came to rest on Ginny and he jumped back, raising both hands without dropping his wand. "Whoa."

"I knew it, I knew it," Ginny said furiously. "You were lying all this time, you haven't lost your memory at all—"

"What—what are you talking about?" Draco said, looking convincingly bewildered.

"Acting like you just thought you were some Muggle!" she went on hotly. "Merlin, Malfoy, I swear, if you even think of trying anything—"

"Hang on—hang on!" The confusion on Malfoy's face was giving way to indignation. "You're right that I'm no Muggle, but I haven't been—I wasn't lying about that, at least no more than you were. We're supposed to lie to Muggles about wizardry, and I had no idea you weren't one!"

"Oh, please," Ginny said scathingly. She was shaking a little, far more rattled by the sight of Draco with a wand than by the attack just now. "Like you don't know who I am, Malfoy, like you don't remember—"

"I don't, all right?" Draco looked shaken as well, and also a little angry. "I don't—I don't remember a lot of things. Who I was, who I am, I mean. I don't know you. That doesn't mean I don't know I'm a wizard, for Merlin's sake!"

Uncertainty swooped through Ginny, slicing right through her outrage. She didn't lower her wand yet, but she looked him over doubtfully, considering. Was it possible that Draco had forgotten his identity, his past, but not what he was, being a wizard, and all the skills and knowledge that came with it? She supposed it was all too possible; after all, people hit by Memory Charms tended to forget specific things, not everything they'd ever learned since they were born. But most people hit by Memory Charms were not so powerfully hit as to lose all their memories of their self either. The only other person she could think of was Gilderoy Lockhart, and he had lost at least some skills and knowledge, as well as his personal memories. But there was no telling, really…this was murky magic, unpredictable…

"So?" Malfoy said. He was still holding his hands up, his wand clutched in his grip but not pointed at her in any way. "Are you going to drop your wand and tell me who you are, or are you going to attack me, like—him?" He tossed a nod in the direction of the scrawny man, still unconscious on the floor.

"I'm not going to attack you," Ginny retorted. She didn't drop her wand, still eyeing the one in his hand. "You—you put your wand away first. And then put your hands flat on the counter, where I can see them."

Draco's eyebrows lifted in disbelief. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

"And what if there are more like him around?" Again he indicated the man on the floor. "Come to attack me?"

"I'll protect you," Ginny said dryly.

Draco looked sour at that, but after a moment's hesitation, he did as she asked, slowly lowering his hands and stuffing his wand in his back pocket. Then he placed his hands flat on the counter, smiling grimly at her.

"Happy?" he asked.

"Not really." Ginny finally lowered her wand, but she kept it in hand. She watched Malfoy for a moment, but he didn't move, didn't reach back for his wand.

"I can't say I'm very happy, either," Malfoy said flatly. "I think you'd better tell me who you are, and what you're doing here. And who that man is, and why he just attacked me."

"He attacked us," Ginny pointed out, though admittedly, his target probably had been Draco. "And I promise I will tell you everything, but first, I really think we should get out of here. Like you said, there could be more where he came from and—"

"I'm not going anywhere with you until you tell me what's going on!" Draco's words tumbled from his mouth, tight with panic. "You obviously know me somehow, and I doubt we just happened upon each other. Are you—were you looking for me? Why?"

"Yes, I've been looking for you," Ginny said impatiently. "Look, I wasn't joking when I said I'd protect you. That's why I'm here. I—"

"But why do I need protecting?" Draco demanded. "And why do you care? Are we friends? Or are you—did someone send you to find me?" His expression grew dark with suspicion.

"Draco." Ginny fixed him with a glare. "That's your name, you know? Or do you have another name now?"

"I know my name," he shot back. "That is, I know—I'm Draco. I don't know…that other name."

"Malfoy."

An odd shiver seemed to run through Malfoy, and he shrugged one shoulder uncomfortably. "That one."

"Okay, then. Draco." Ginny placed her hands on the counter as well, on either side of his, and leaned forward until her face was inches from him. "I am here for you. I'm not here because anyone sent me—" She paused, remembering the answer Nott had extracted from her before telling her where Draco was. "I'm—we're—" It was too disingenuous to say they were friends. "Look, you helped me once, all right? When I was…in a very dark place…you were there for me. And that's why I'm here now. Repaying the favor. All right?"

Draco returned her gaze steadily, his gray eyes like flint.

"So will you—please—" Ginny grit her teeth a little at that "—please—just come with me now, somewhere safe, and then I swear I will tell you everything. All right?"

A flicker of unease softened the hard look on Draco's face.

"You can trust me," she said, her eyes latched onto his.

Another moment of silence passed. Ginny waited, sensing she'd said all she could. Then—

"All right." Malfoy pulled back, straightening up. "Where do we go?"

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! More chapters to come. Reviews are much appreciated!