When the Malfoy's overly large eagle owl swooped in one morning later in the week, Ginny didn't even turn her head. She'd already learned that Draco's mother sent him cakes every day, outrageously good cakes, and that he shared them round in the common room after lunch. Draco's sweet tooth was not small but, for all he was a brash, arrogant child who'd never been told no in any meaningful way, he also was clever and knew how to make friends.

It wasn't until the owl dropped a package in front of her that she reacted, and then her first thought was that the silly bird had given the delivery to the wrong person. She stared at the owl who sniffed with owlish disdain and flew off before she could so much as hand it a slice of bacon.

"Well," said Pansy impatiently, "aren't you going to open it?"

"I…." Ginny looked at the name on the package. In penmanship almost as good as Tom's it read, 'Ginevra Weasley'. She looked down the table at Draco and he shrugged with a smile that was a little too innocent. She resolved to deal with him later, undid the string, and pulled the paper back on the box. Inside was a green tie, a green pin, and a luxurious green and grey scarf. She ran her hand over the softest wool she'd ever felt and then picked up a note written on thick, linen paper.

Miss Weasley, it read. It has come to my attention that your family has been less than supportive of your Sorting.

That, she thought, was a bit of an understatement. She didn't think there was a student at Hogwarts who wasn't aware her mother had come to visit and shrieked her outrage at Dumbledore while her father had stood behind his wife, twisting a cap in his hands. She didn't think anyone was unaware her most of her brothers had refused to speak to her since; it was possible some people didn't know how Ron and George and Fred let their eyes slide over her as if she weren't there when they passed in the hall but Ginny was pretty sure her new friends had noticed even if they hadn't said anything.

We simply cannot allow a young lady such as yourself to feel she hasn't been welcomed into Slytherin and, if your own family chooses not to lavish little gifts on you so you can make your membership in the best of Houses known, than Lucius and I shall do so. Sincerely, Narcissa Malfoy

Ginny ran her hands over the knitting and wished she could bury her face in it. She'd never wanted it to get cold before but now she did. She wanted desperately to wear this beautiful, perfect thing.

"Still a bit warm for the scarf," Pansy said, sounding jealous.

"I'll have to go put it in my trunk after breakfast," Ginny agreed. "Won't need it for a few months."

She set the note back in the box, pulled the tie out and tried to remember how to knot it.

"Here," Theo Nott said, and, reaching over, he deftly made a neat work of it. "Girls never do it right." She glanced over at the Gryffindor table while Theo fixed her tie and made admiring noises, hoping to see one of her brothers looking back at her. They had to have noticed she'd gotten a package.

Percy wasn't there and Ron and the twins were all sitting with their backs to her. She doubted that was an accident. Tom had warned her it would be bad, but she hadn't quite believed him. She did now.

Fine, she thought. I'm an orphan, just like he is. She could almost taste the anger in her mouth like bile.

She turned her attention back to her own House and thanked Theo for his help, put the green pin on her robe herself, and ran her hand greedily over the soft wool of the scarf one more time before closing the box up. She had knits. She had knits galore. Her mother started the annual Christmas sweaters in August but her mother had never used wool that felt like this. Ginny was used to things that itched, things that were sturdy, things that were practical. This scarf probably required special spells to keep clean and that made a little thrill of pleasure run down Ginny's spine. This scarf was a luxury.

I've never had a scarf this nice, she wrote later, after she'd sat through her classes and eaten dinner and thanked Draco for being sweet.

"It's not right," he'd said, "you not getting things. Everyone else has stuff."

Draco, she'd realized, had no idea what poverty meant. He thought her parents were just being mean by not sending her something after the Sorting. He understood that he had more money than she did, that she had to have second hand books, but he didn't even begin to fathom that that meant her mum couldn't just buy her a bunch of Slytherin ties and hair ribbons and socks and send them off. She'd just hugged him and told him next time maybe he could ask her if it was okay before having his mum send her stuff.

"You aren't mad, are you?" he'd asked, probably nervous he'd overstepped. Pansy, Daphne, even Tracey were known quantities to boys like him. But her? The little ginger he had to have been told to cultivate with the pathetic family she had to still care about, even if they were giving her the cold shoulder? She was a bit more of a mystery.

She wasn't mad.

I wish you could feel it, Tom. It's glorious, she wrote in the diary.

The words swirled away and Tom's looped writing came back in their place. I'm glad you like it. You should have the best of everything.

We should have the best of everything, she corrected him.

We should, he agreed. And we will. In time.

I feel guilty, she admitted. My mum makes all those sweaters. Every year Dad says, 'She makes these with love, your mum does.' And she does. And I know that Draco's mum didn't sent that to me because she loves me, but I still like it more than anything my own mum ever made me.

No, Tom said. She doesn't love you. She wants to use you. You're a political prize because you're the first member of your family sorted into Slytherin in a long time.

Ginny stared at the words. They hurt a little, but not as much as she would have expected them to. She wasn't naive enough to think a woman like Narcissa Malfoy cared about her. Even her own family didn't seem to care about her anymore. I should be upset about that, shouldn't I?

Let them adopt you, Tom suggested. It will be useful to us later when you're older. Write a thank you note. Be gracious.

There was a long pause and then he added one more thing.

Your mum could have knit you a green scarf, Ginny. She chose not to.