Woo, get me! Yet another chapter out way ahead of schedule. -is really smug- Thanks to all you beautiful people out there who've reviewed! And, in answer to your question, Gabby, yes I have read 'The Redemption of Althalus', but that's not where I got the idea from (see A/N in previous chapter). Apologies if I paraphrased though.

Standard disclaimer applies: I do not own HP & am not making any money out of this (mores the pity) etc. etc.

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And after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but the truth in masquerade.

- From 'Don Juan' by Lord Byron

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"Well, Miss Weasley, I don't really know what else to say," Minerva McGonagall said, seating herself behind her desk. Ginny watched in fascination; she'd never seen anybody sit like that before - completely upright, totally straight. Not a hint of a slouch.

I suppose Professor McGonagall was taught to use a backboard, she thought amusedly. Who'd have guessed?

What's a backboard? came a plaintive thought immediately.

I'll explain later, Ginny shot back, so shoo! I've got an important meeting with my Head of House, I'll have you know.

"Miss Weasley, are you listening to me?" McGonagall asked sharply. "I asked you a question."

"Oh, yes Professor," said Ginny hurriedly. "I'm sorry, I'm still a little dizzy." She tried to look pathetic. "But I'm sure I'll be fine in lessons. I don't want to fall any further behind, seeing as it's my OWL year."

The Gryffindor Head of House nodded approvingly. "I see you have your priorities right, in any case. But I'd like an assurance that there will be no…shenanigans with Mr Malfoy again. Such things are highly disruptive to school life."

Was it Ginny's imagination, or was there a hint of a smile in those blue-grey eyes?

"Oh Professor, it was just an accident, that's all. He's a Malfoy and a Slytherin." She tried to inject as much venom as she could into that one word. "I won't be spending any time with him again in a hurry."

The corners of the Professor's mouth twitched. "Well, as much as I advocate inter-house co-operation, I have to say I'm relieved. Now, you will come to me if you have any problems, won't you?"

Ginny nodded.

"Your Professors have all been informed of the circumstances, so don't hesitate to ask to be excused. But please do not use this as an excuse to skip lessons," the grey-haired woman said with a piercing look. "I will be keeping a close eye on you, rest assured of that."

"I appreciate that, Professor," Ginny smiled gratefully up at her Professor. "And I will try really hard to catch up, I promise."

"Jolly good then. And do try to get your strength up girl. Gryffindor are playing Hufflepuff in three weeks' time."

Ginny grinned in earnest. "Don't worry, Professor. We'll beat them, no problem."

"Excellent."

As Ginny climbed through the portrait-hole into the Gryffindor common room five minutes later, she felt a familiar aching in her left hand. Shaking her head, she stepped through, expecting the room to be nearly empty. It wasn't, and she blinked in surprise as her brother enveloped her in a bone-cracking hug.

"Gin! Thank Merlin you're alright!"

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"Draco, Draco, Draco," Snape said silkily, shaking his head ever so slightly. "A Weasley. Who'd have thought it? Ingenious, of course, but very brave…assuming that it was planned. That is what your father will say…ingenious. Always knew he had it in him."

Draco kept his face carefully void of emotion. What was Snape talking about?

The Potions Professor chuckled darkly, leaning back in his chair so that his face fell in a pool of shadow. "But it wasn't planned, was it Draco?"

Draco's face was an implacable mask. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Professor."

Snape chuckled again. It disconcerted Draco; it was like hearing a snake purr.

"The bonding, you foolish boy. Do you feel like telling me what possessed you to go after Weasley instead of the Snitch? If we'd won that match, we'd be in a good position to win the Cup."

"Gentlemanly duty, sir. Showed Potter up."

Again, that low, oily laughter. "Such a feeble excuse! I expected better of you Draco. You'll have to come up with something better for Lucius, I hope you know that."

"I owe my father no explanations."

"Draco, Draco," Snape templed his hands on the desk before him. "We both know that is a lie. He will demand explanation. And you will have no choice but to give it to him."

Draco slouched back in his chair and sighed, giving up the pretence. He stared around the room, trying not to meet his Head of House's eyes. Snape's office was dimly lit with a few sputtering candles, the walls lined with huge books and ageing scrolls.

"Draco." Snape, as always, commanded attention.

"Oh, I don't know!" cried Draco. "I just don't know what came over me, Ok? It just sort of happened."

"Well, that's better. Now we're getting somewhere."

"Is that all you can say? Some help you are!"

"I didn't realise you were asking for help, my boy," replied Snape smoothly, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know how much of this Dumbledore has explained to you."

"Worse than nothing," grumbled Draco. "You know what he's like - cryptic little hints, nothing concrete."

"Well, I can help you there. You and the unfortunate Weasley have invoked a pretty piece of magic known as a soul twinning. Its not something that has historically been…publicised. You are bound for life. Most couples are romantically linked. The few examples that we know of are usually very famous - the result of the soul twinning, though few know that. You have probably heard of most of them; Tristan and Isolde are one of the earliest recorded, Wordsworth and Annette Vallon the last."

"How could I possibly have planned it?"

"It is essentially a conscious act. You have to be willing - in effect, you must reach out to each other. Obviously you weren't aware of this at the time. Unfortunate."

"What am I going to say to Father?"

Snape's dark eyes glittered. "Say nothing yet. I will deal with it."

Draco couldn't hide his relief. "Thank you, sir."

"I trust you feel quite well enough to return to your lessons as usual?"

"No need to mock, sir," Draco replied, grinning. "I'll catch up."

"Good, good. Wouldn't want our model Slytherin slipping. I expect that House cup in my study at the end of this year."

"Of course, sir."

"You are dismissed, Draco."

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"Ron, you're choking me," Ginny protested, her voice muffled by Ron's robes.

"Oh, honestly, be sensible, Ron," said Hermione impatiently, pulling the lanky red-head away from his sister. "Ginny! We've been so worried about you!"

Harry peered over Hermione's shoulder, green eyes perturbed. "Yeah, are you OK? What happened with Malfoy?"

Just then Dean Thomas appeared and barged past them all to grab Ginny by the shoulders. "Gin! Babe, what happened?"

"Oh Dean," said Ginny, leaning into him gratefully. "It's been horrible."

They all sat down around the fireplace, eager to hear Ginny's account.

"I just took a really bad fall," she said simply. "Madam Pomfrey said something had bust inside me," she quickly lied, "but she's fixed it now. It was really painful, but I'm fine now."

"What about Malfoy though?" queried Hermione, frowning. "How come he's been in the infirmary too?"

"He took a bad knock to the head when we fell to the ground." Ginny tried not to meet anyone's eyes.

"How come he caught you anyway?" Ron looked puzzled.

"He was hardly going to let me fall, nobody's that heartless."

Harry had the grace to look embarrassed at that. "Look, Ginny -" he hesitated.

Ginny shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

Dean squeezed her hand sympathetically, looking at her with liquid brown eyes. "I've missed you, babe."

"Missed you too." Ginny leaned forwards to brush a kiss on his waiting lips. The other three left, exchanging significant glances.

It's so nice to have a caring boyfriend, Ginny thought as she leant into the kiss. Dean is so lovely to me…

Lovely, my arse. Ginny jerked her head back in shock. I bet he's only after the one thing, lousy Gryffindor jerk.

Stay out of my head! Ginny yelled, outraged.

"Gin, babe, what's wrong?" Dean looked genuinely concerned.

"I have a little headache," the red-head lied again. "Guess I'm not totally recovered after all." She yawned theatrically. "Think I'll take an early night. See you in the morning!"

And with that she ran up the stairs to her dormitory, fuming and cradling her tingling left hand. Dean stared after her, then turned to Seamus, who was watching in amusement from the other side of the common room.

"What did I do?" he asked bewildered. Seamus just laughed.

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Draco chuckled to himself as he strolled into the Slytherin common room. That had put and end to that. Insufferable Gryffindors. What did Ginny think she was playing at, kissing that prat when she knew full well that Draco would know? At least she wouldn't make that mistake again in a hurry. She'd been so surprised! He chuckled again.

The round, green lamps suspended from the rough stone ceiling cast a ghoulish pallor on his already pale face. Several people jumped up from the carved chairs around the fireplace.

"Malfoy!"

Draco smirked, sauntering with exaggerated casualness into the firelight. "Good evening."

"Oh Draco, are you alright?" exclaimed Pansy Parkinson, clutching her hands to her face.

"Of course I am, don't be so foolish," reprimanded Draco shortly.

He seated himself in his customary place, between Crabbe and Goyle. The two goons grinned at him with their usual sycophantic expressions.

Draco ignored them, and brushed aside Pansy, who was flitting around him anxiously. "Aren't you going to say hello, Blaise?"

"Hello, Draco," said the dark boy coldly.

Draco tried to suppress his dismay at his friend's frosty hauteur. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to ask me where I've been?"

Blaise's expression become, if anything, even more aloof. "We all know you've been in the infirmary, Draco. The question is, why."

"Took a knock to the head when I feel down with that Gryffindor," the Malfoy said breezily. "Blasted Healer insisted on keeping me in." He rolled his eyes for effect.

"Draco," Blaise said, his voice slow and deliberate. "Why did you rescue that blood-traitorous wretch?"

Draco forced a laugh. "Oh, Merlin Blaise, you're not going to hold a grudge because we lost the match, are you? I caught her because apparently she cast some kind of weird spell or something. Made me do it. I don't really understand it myself, but Snape explained it to me just now. Besides," he smirked. "it earned us 30 house points in the process."

Zabini's face relaxed. "A spell, you say?"

"Something like that." Draco shrugged. "Who cares, anyway? I'm only sorry I couldn't have let her fall, muggle-loving brat."

Blaise almost smiled. "Good to have you back, my friend. Thinks have been a little dim round here without you." He indicated Crabbe and Goyle.

Draco laughed with real amusement this time. "It's good to see you too, my friend. That Weasley…" he shuddered theatrically. "What have I missed, anyway?"

"Well, Parkinson here caused a bit of a stir at breakfast yesterday," Blaise looked at the girl from the corners of his slanted eyes. "Cornered the Trio, yelling at them about how their little protégé had damaged her poor baby…"he snorted contemptuously. "Silly cow."

"Hey!" protested Pansy. "At least I was showing I cared about Draco, unlike some I could mention!"

"Yeah, well, Blaise thought I'd turned all Gryff on him, didn't you, you mistrusting bastard?"

This time Blaise really did smile. "Sorry I doubted you. I shouldn't have; you're a Malfoy after all."

Yes, Draco thought with some satisfaction. I am a Malfoy.

Why are you saying that like it's something to be proud of?

To his credit, the blonde boy did not jump, as Ginny had earlier in Gryffindor Tower, but his expression froze, and Blaise, shrewd as he was, noticed immediately.

"What?"

Draco tried to shrug it off with his usual arrogant demeanour. "Nothing. My head still feels a bit funny, is all. Might go and get something from Snape for it." He rose, gracefully as always, and strode out of the dungeon, past the statue that guaded the Slytherin's den. (It was not customary for Slytherins to say goodbye. Their otherwise elaborate etiquette did not extend that far.)

In the corridor, he leaned his head against the cool stone of the wall.

Don't interrupt me like that again. His tone was cold.

Why not? You interrupted me with Dean! Ginny was indignant.

He's a prat.

That's a pathetic excuse. And blatantly untrue.

You evidently have poor taste.

Well, I can't stop thinking about you, so I'd have to agree with you there.

About me?

My hand…it seems to tingle and ache at the same time.

Mine too.

Could we…?

If you don't come down, I'm going to march right up into Gryffindor Tower and grab your hand, and I can't see that going down very well.

Where?

Broom cupboard, next to the painting of Marcus and Isolde on the third floor.

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Ginny squirmed against Draco. "Why did you pick here? I can't breathe!"

That was a lie, actually she could breathe. But what she was breathing was largely Draco. That spicy, musky smell.

"Because no one will find us here!" snapped Draco. "In Merlin's name, stop squirming!"

Ginny stilled, and although he could see nothing in the gloom, he knew she was glaring at him. A lock of her silky hair tickled his nose. He wriggled away.

"Now look who's squirming!"

Draco leant against the wall. "We can't keep on doing this."

"I know. It's just that it hurts. And I never was any good at the whole pain thing."

Draco took a deep breath, screwing up his face. "I can't hide anything from you, can I weasel?"

Ginny reached out to touch the confusing welter of emotions in his mind. She smiled in satisfaction. "No."

"Well, then, you know." He exhaled slowly. "You know, it doesn't just the relieve the pain, to be with you, to touch you." His long fingers brushed Ginny's smooth cheek. "It feels good. It feels…"

Ginny took pity on him. He was a Slytherin, a Malfoy; he didn't have the vocabulary to describe feelings. "It feels like home," she said. "It feels warm, and comforting, and you feel as though whatever else is happening, it doesn't really matter, because I've got your hand."

"Yes," said Draco. "That's exactly it. But that doesn't mean we can't fight it," he added quickly. "I mean, we're going to have to spend a little time together, for this," he brought up their entwined hands to rest on his chest. "But I want to keep it private. And I don't want to get too involved with you, either."

Ginny felt as though a heavy weight had just appeared over her head, threatening to fall and crush her any second. "I understand."

They stood in silence for a while.

Draco closed his eyes. Ginny smelt like a garden at night. She was wearing perfume; the scent teased and tantalised his nostrils, heady and intoxicating. He wondered, trying not to, what scent she was wearing.

Gardenia.

Draco cursed his weakness, feeling her smile. He tried to banish the image that came, unbidden, of a flower, white and exotic, unfurling its petals.

Ginny leaned against Draco. His chest was broad and strong. She wished he would put is arms around her, as he had in the hospital wing.

"I don't know how I'm going to make it through the whole night without you," she whispered.

Draco grinned half-heartedly. "I bet that's a sentence you never thought you'd be saying to me."

Ginny laughed quietly. "If Ron could see us now…"

"Well, I guess we have no option but to use those Dreamless Sleep draughts that Madam Pomfrey gave us. I mean, Dumbledore's understanding enough, but Filch won't give a damn, and I really don't want to be caught out after hours. I'm a Prefect!"

Damn Malfoy pride.

"Yes, well," Draco shook his head. "We really should be getting back."

Ginny pressed against him one last time, and then stood up. "Wouldn't want to be in this blasted closet any longer anyway. Next time, I'm choosing the hidey-hole."

"Next time?"

Next time," repeated Ginny firmly, closing the door.

Marcus of Cornwall peered at them lazily from his portrait, placing a restraining hand around his wife's waist.

Draco and Ginny separated slowly, and even more reluctantly than before.

Ginyy was the first to leave. She took small, rapid steps, determined not to look back. Draco stayed rooted to the spot, watching her leave, first clenched at his side. Her long red plait swayed provocatively from side to side as she moved.

Just before she turned the corner, Ginny stopped, breathing heavily. Impulsively, she turned round and ran back to where her soultwin was standing. Stopping just before him, she stared up into his eyes. "You have silver eyes," she said inanely, wondering why she had returned.

"They're grey, like the walls of the castle."

"No, grey is dreary and unmoving. Your eyes are liquid silver - like the underside of a cloud at dawn."

And before he could scoff at this piece of silliness, she leant up and kissed him soundly on the lips. As she drew back she just caught his look of astonishment before whirling around and running backdown the corridor and round the corner.

Draco shook his head confusedly. Oh well, he thought, out of sight, out of mind, I suppose.

He was getting very good at deceiving himself.

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