I couldn't contain my laughter. My fit of giggles erupted and I fell out of my chair, crashing to the floor on my side in a heap of tired limbs. My breaths were shallow and laboured, and suddenly I couldn't see straight. In all honesty, it wasn't that funny, but after the day I'd had, I just couldn't keep myself under control.

Draco, however, did not laugh at all. He cleared his throat loudly as he continued to look in the direction that I had previously been in until I'd fallen. Obviously he was waiting for me to calm myself down and get back into my chair. It seemed like he wasn't really seeing the humour that I was.

For no reason other than to be contrary, I switched seats. Rather than sitting directly across the table where his eyes were fixed, I took the seat beside him, taking in a few short breaths in order to settle myself. "I'm sorry," I said quietly, regarding him much more seriously after previously laughing in his face. "I just never thought I'd hear those words come from your mouth."

Calmly, he raised an eyebrow, as if contemplating whether or not he thought that I was settled enough to be spoken to rationally. But then he sighed and shook his head, obviously wanting to get to the point sometime before dawn. "I need you to help me track someone down," he said evenly. "You've currently got more resources than I do, what with you shagging your ex-husband and all. It's not really likely that if I walked into the Ministry they'd hand me over any names and addresses."

I stared at him shamelessly. The man had no idea how to be tactful or mature in the slightest. "Well, since you asked so nicely, Malfoy, of course I'll help you," I answered caustically. I was proud of myself for not rising to the bait and addressing his comment about my relationship with Harry.

He rolled his eyes. "Could you be more sarcastic?"

"If I tried really hard, maybe." I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed heavily. "Come on, Malfoy. If you think, after all you've done to me, that I'm going to help you, no questions asked, you're even thicker than I thought."

For a brief moment, his eyes narrowed at me. I refused to back down, knowing full well that he was trying to intimidate me. But I would not let him manipulate me again. Not this time. Not after the last time I'd tried to be nice and ended up with rope burns on my wrist. Not after the bloody night I'd already had.

He exhaled, his expression softening. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, first off, I want to know what's in it for me, Draco, after all that you put me through!" I sighed, feeling proud of myself for holding my ground.

Draco's face remained neutral. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know about this case."

I narrowed my eyes. "I know a lot about what's going on, believe it or not."

"I believe it. You're not stupid." He shifted uncomfortably, probably realising that he'd inadvertently said something complimentary about me.

His honest admission made me feel warm and brave. I went on, deciding that now was the time for us to talk about what was really going on, whether he wanted to or not. "Why is Marcus out to get you?" I asked.

His face gave nothing away. "What do you mean by that?"

I sighed again, knowing full well that he was playing dumb so that I'd show mine before he showed his. Always the bloody conniving Slytherin. "Marcus is going after the people you care about. Your friend, your ex-girlfriends, your mother. He is hurting you by hurting them. Why?"

Once more, his grey eyes locked with mine. I held his gaze, seeing something in him that both fascinated and puzzled me. Despite the compartmentalising of his emotions, despite the steeliness of his expressions, his eyes could still give him away always. I could sense his inner struggle and his wariness of admitting to me that I didn't need him to fill in the gaps. He didn't like being figured out, and he certainly did not like asking for help, but the fact that I didn't play his game did something strange to him.

Because I refused to play his game, he respected me for the first time.

"If I promise to tell you eventually, can we drop this for now?"

"Not a chance."

Draco sighed. "Listen, Weasley. I need to find someone who can help me to prove that I didn't murder Theo. If I find them, I'll let you bring me in to your precious husband. I'll have proof that I'm innocent, and… you can have your money. We'll both win, and I am telling you now that soon enough this will all make sense." His eyes looked strangely pleading. "Please. Don't make me talk about this right now."

I closed my eyes briefly as a strange feeling washed over me. I felt proud of myself for figuring out what was going on, but I also felt worse for being right. There was something much deeper going on here, something that was really hurting him, and I cared about him too much to not let it bother me. As much as I thought that Draco deserved to be put in his place from time to time, he didn't deserve this, and neither did the people who were being hurt and killed by Marcus as a result. I felt a heavy pang in my chest as I remembered how weak Mrs Malfoy looked, how broken Daphne was, how scared Pansy was.

How petrified I was that Marcus would get me, too.

"Why does he want to hurt you, Draco?" I asked as gently as I could. I had no intention of backing down. I needed to know. This wasn't just about him anymore.

"Ginny…"

My heart ached at the sound of my name. His voice was pleading. He was pleading with me not to go there, to let it go for now. But I couldn't. I couldn't make myself stay away, and I couldn't trust him to be honest with me later. I had to know what was going on if I was going to help and put my life back at risk, even more than it already was. I had to know. I had to.

"Draco, you have to tell me," I said. "No one deserves this, and I want to help, but I won't unless you're honest with me."

"I've never been honest with you, Ginny."

For some reason, that statement hurt me more than anything else he'd ever said or done to me. There were so many things that I knew he'd lied to me about, so many times that I knew I shouldn't have trusted him. But I always thought that some part of him really cared about me, wanted me. Now I knew the truth.

I swallowed hard. "Well, there's never been a better time to start."

Draco looked at me, his grey eyes set and determined. He closed his eyes briefly before speaking. "I was a Death Eater."

This admission took me by surprise. "I – I know that."

"Do you?" he asked pointedly. "When you finished school and we met again, I had you from the moment I looked at you. You forgot everything that you'd known about me, forgot what I'd done and who I'd wronged. You forgot that I'd tortured you, hurt practically every member of your family. It didn't matter because I made you feel special."

"Why are you trying to hurt me?"

He closed his eyes briefly. "I'm not – I don't want to. I just need you to understand who I was – who I am, Ginny."

I shook my head. "That's not you anymore. You're an Auror! You – you help people!"

A pained expression washed over him. "That's exactly the point, Weasley. I changed sides."

"I don't understand what you're trying to say, Draco," I said, frustrated. "Either speak clearly or stuff it and leave, without my help."

Another deep breath. "Marcus was a Death Eater, too," he went on.

I nodded. "And then?"

"And then the war ended."

"And you weren't like him anymore?"

"I went on to be an Auror," he said, sighing and rubbing his hands over his face, as though this admission was poisonous to him. "I wanted to be better than I was. I didn't want to be like… like my father, like my Aunt Bella. I didn't want to be stuck in those ideals about blood purity and how we were better than Muggles. I wanted to grow up and live in this world like everyone else, without being cast aside for being a part of something that I didn't really believe in anymore. Those things weren't important. People dying, people getting hurt... nobody deserves that. Nobody. Maybe – maybe a part of me used to think that killing people over their blood was some worthwhile cause, but then when I was told to take a life… I couldn't do it."

My heart practically stopped beating. I kept quiet, my eyes locked with his. He had never been this open with me, ever, and I wasn't about to ruin that by saying something to upset him.

"So I went to the Academy," Draco continued, "and Marcus didn't like that. He told me I was forgetting my roots and that I'd be wise to remember where I came from. He…"

Draco trailed off.

"He, what, Draco?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Suddenly, the man beside me could no longer look me in the eye. His gaze turned down to his left forearm. "I saw him the night before I left for school." Draco's voice was quiet. "It was the night we..."

I swallowed. "I remember."

"He cornered me and showed me my arm." Slowly, he pulled at the buttons on his sleeves before rolling it up to his elbow. "He showed me that I have this scar, just like everyone else who served the Dark Lord. He told me that I'm no better than him and that I'd do well to remember that."

With morbid fascination, I kept my eyes glued to his forearm. His perfectly white skin was marred with the remnants of the Dark Mark. It was ugly, but it was the only imperfection on him. I don't know how I never noticed it before. Tentatively – not knowing how he'd feel about it – I brought my fingertips to his scar, my fingers tracing over it tenderly. I had no idea if it hurt or if it felt like nothing at all, but I didn't want to take the chance. My fingers slid back and forth over the healed skin until his right hand grasped my wrist firmly.

"Don't," he said softly, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Please don't touch me there."

"Does it hurt you?"

"No. No, I can hardly feel it at all. It's numb. I just – you… you shouldn't have to see this or touch it." He hastily began rolling down his sleeve. "It's despicable, and you shouldn't have to…"

"It's horrible," I interrupted, my fingertips freezing in place along the line of the scar. "It's ugly and it's horrible, and it stands for something that I hate." Slowly, I eased my fingertips downward and laced my fingers with his. "But it also shows how far you've come. Most people who have this still believe in it, like Marcus. You're so much better than him, Draco Malfoy, and that is why he hates you. Because you really are better."

Our eyes met, locking with each other's for an extremely long moment. I felt like I was going to explode. For the first time since I had known him, Draco had opened up to me. He was honest about something, and he showed me his vulnerability. It was endearing, and it broke my heart to know that, deep down, he hated himself just a little bit.

"Ginny, I don't know what to say to you," he said quietly, his eyes locking with mine again.

I got the impression that he was not only talking about what I'd just said, but rather everything that transpired between us over the years. We had been through a lot, I realised, but all of it was over and done with. From this moment, he and I could start fresh.

"You don't have to say anything to me," I answered.

"Ginny…"

There it was again. My name on his lips. It made me fall apart.

I swallowed. "I will help you, Draco."

For some reason, this seemed to take him by surprise, like he'd forgotten why he was in my flat to begin with. He nodded briskly, gently removing his hand from mine. "Right. Thank you."

Forcing myself to look away from those grey eyes, I glanced to the clock. It was past midnight. I knew there was still more that he wasn't telling me. There was something in his permanent record that he didn't want me to see, and I knew that at some point I'd have to question him about it. But it was late, and I had to turn in or else I'd never be able to go to work tomorrow. I stood up, stretching my arms high above my head, my shirt rising up my abdomen slightly.

His eyes were on me, and quickly he stood. "I guess I should be going then."

I watched him turn and head towards the door, and before I could help myself, I was speaking. "No. Wait."

He turned to look at me. "Everything all right?"

"It's late," I said. "You – uh – you can stay here tonight, if you want to. You can sleep on the couch, or I could. It doesn't matter."

It looked like he was mulling over the idea in his head.

"Never mind," I said quickly, concerned about what his hesitation meant. "I shouldn't have offered."

"We could both take the bed, you know," Draco suggested, smirking. "I promise to behave myself."

My face flushed and my whole body temperature increased by about ten degrees. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"You don't trust me?" There was a hint of amusement in his eyes and a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

I flushed even deeper. "I, erm, I have to work in the morning."

He looked at me for a moment, considering my statement. "Well," Draco answered calmly, "I think the gentlemanly thing to do would be to allow the lady to sleep in the bed. I'm sure the settee will be fine for me."

I nodded before heading back towards my bedroom, allowing him the privacy of getting ready for bed.

"Thanks for the talk, Weasley," he said, just as I went to open my bedroom door.

When I turned around, he was standing only inches from me. My breath caught in my throat at the smouldering look in his eyes. Like a predator hunting his prey. I could see his eyes travelling down me, from my eyes to my lips to my shoulders to my chest, and all the while my heart was beating against my ribcage so fiercely that I was certain he could hear it.

"I could thank you properly." His grey eyes had turned almost black with lusting, wanting.

It took me a moment to calm myself, but I swallowed and took a breath, all the while knowing that his eyes were on me, calculating my response, reading me. This was the Draco I knew.

I swallowed again. "Goodnight, Draco," I whispered, turning and going through my door before he had a chance to respond, pushing my back up against the door. I sighed with relief when I heard his retreating footsteps.

What was he doing to me?


The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed. It was odd; I couldn't remember the last time I had slept so well, and I had no idea why, for the first time in a long time, I didn't want to immediately fall back into my bed and remain there for a week.

Instead, I got up, wrapped myself in my dressing gown, and headed to the adjoining bathroom to take a shower. I washed my hair beneath the hot water, and that heat soothed all of the tenderness and the stiffness in my aching muscles. It felt glorious, and I never wanted to get out. I milked my shower time, giving me an extra ten minutes to think, to relax, to prepare myself for the day.

Finally, I could find no other reason to remain indisposed, so I hopped out and wrapped myself in a fluffy red towel. I dried my hair with my wand as I looked in the mirror.

And then it all came back to me.

I noticed the prominent red marks around my neck, the nail marks that had been embedded into my shoulders. I'd seen Marcus again.

Marcus. Pansy. Daphne.

Draco.

How could I forget him? How could I have slept so well, knowing that the object of my frustrations, desires, lust, and all other manner of assorted emotions for the last nine years was sleeping only one room away?

I sighed heavily as it occurred to me that he was the reason why I did feel safe. I had someone in my flat who wouldn't let anyone or anything hurt me, even if it was only for selfish reasons that he was at all concerned about my wellbeing. Draco Malfoy needed me – needed my help – and so I knew that, as long as he was in the next room, I was safe from Marcus. I was safe from everybody.

Quickly, I ran back to my bedroom, pulling some clothes out for the day and dressing myself. I didn't pay much attention because I figured it didn't matter much. I did have to go into the Ministry, but only to see my brother and Pansy to find out which cases needed working. It was part of our arrangement that I remain somewhat useful to the department.

When I exited my bedroom and entered the hallway that led to my sitting room and kitchen, I was greeted with the pleasant smell of fresh coffee and freshly baked pastry and the sound of something sizzling in a frying pan. Pleased and utterly confused, I rounded the corner of the hallway to discover Draco standing at the stove, frying up some eggs and bacon. There were two plates set beside him on the counter, each with a little bit of fresh fruit, a muffin, and an empty space, which was presumably for the food that he was in the process of cooking.

"Good morning, Draco," I said, my voice sounding a little hoarse.

He turned and nodded to me in acknowledgement. "Hello, Ginny."

I walked round the table to stand beside him, eyeing the assortment of breakfast foods with speculation. "I don't remember having all of this food in my pantry."

"You didn't," he answered, not missing a beat as he flipped over the food in the frying pan. "I discarded all of your expired goods, by the way, and restocked with more non-perishable items since you can't seem to be bothered checking dates on your produce and milk."

My eyebrows shot into my hairline. "You went to the store? You stocked my pantry?"

Draco gave off an inelegant snort. "Please, Weasley. A wanted felon can't very well walk into a deli and order fresh pumpkin juice, can he?" He shrugged. "I sent Goyle."

"Goyle?" My voice rose a full octave.

"Yes, Goyle. I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your owl, by the way. I wasn't sure if there were any sort of traces on your Floo, and I had to contact him so that he knew I was at a different address." He plated the eggs and bacon. "Coffee is fresh, by the way." He took his plate and sat down at the table, not bothering to wait for me before he began eating.

I shook my head – wondering briefly if Draco had always been quite so bizarre – before grabbing the second plate and taking a seat beside him. I smiled to myself at the fact that Goyle went shopping to fill my pantry, remembering that the first time I'd seen Draco at his flat in Wiltshire was as a result of Goyle's delivery service.

We ate in a relatively comfortable silence, and it wasn't until after Draco had inhaled his food and set down his fork beside his plate that there was any sound at all. I could feel him staring at me, waiting for me to speak, to say something about our conversation the night before. There was the slightest hint of trepidation resonating from him; I could feel it.

"So," I began, nibbling on a piece of bacon, "did you sleep well?"

"I did, actually. Your settee was rather comfortable."

"Good. I'm glad."

Awkward silence. I hated the awkward silence.

"Well," I said after another moment, "I have to head down to the Ministry to speak with my brother."

"About what?" Draco asked automatically, his posture tensing significantly. He didn't say as much, but I knew he was concerned that my plan was to out his whereabouts.

"Relax, will you? I am responsible for more fugitives than just you." I noticed immediately that he was still eyeing me with unease. "I'm not going to tell him anything about you or anything you said, Draco. Do you honestly think I'd purposely get myself in trouble?"

He shook his head, his eyes not quite meeting mine.

I hated the way he was acting so strangely. This wasn't the Draco that I knew, the one who I argued with regularly and traded barbs with and had shared passionate, furious kisses with in the past. He was almost submissive, slightly broken, and I didn't know what to do with him. "Talk to me," I whispered, my hand reaching across the table to give his a light squeeze. "Please."

"Ginny…" he breathed, his grey eyes finally locking onto mine. He ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair. "Ginny, you don't understand what happened between us last night."

"We talked. I get that."

"No. We didn't just talk, Ginny." He stared at me for a long time. "I told you things that I've never told anybody."

I swallowed. "I appreciate that."

"I don't care if you do," he answered immediately. "I don't care how you feel about the fact that I opened up to you." Another pause, this time his eyes were pleading. "But I do care how you feel about what I said."

My heart clenched. "Why – why does it matter what I think?"

"Because, Ginny, right now, you're the only person I can trust." Though he was very solemn in his words and his expression was completely even, I knew that he meant every word that he had just said, and I could tell that he was almost anxious to know what I felt in return.

In that moment, I thought my heart was going to explode. How was I supposed to respond to that? How was I supposed to know what the right thing to say was? I sighed. "I don't – I'm not sure how I feel. I spent an awful long time pretending that I hated you and that I couldn't care less about you or your feelings. And to find out that you, of all people, actually feel some kind of insecurity about their past… Draco, I don't know what you're hoping for or what you're searching for. But I do know that I feel safe when you're around. And I wouldn't feel safe around you if I didn't trust you with my life." I swallowed. "So, I suppose that's how I feel about last night."

For several moments, nothing was said and neither of us moved. But it was unlike the awkward silence that we'd shared a few moments earlier. I felt comfortable – at home, at ease.

"I'll see you later on, all right?" I stood from the table and brought my plate to the sink. "Maybe I'll pop home and make us lunch?"

I was at the door when I felt his hand on my wrist, the ever-so-gentle pull of his hand, stopping me from leaving just yet. I turned to him. His eyes were on me, searching me, studying me as if he didn't recognise me. I opened my mouth to speak, but I never got the chance to.

His lips brushed mine so lightly that I almost suspected the kiss wasn't real. His hand brushed through my hair while his other thumb grazed my cheek. It felt so good to be near him like this, so tender and sweet. It had never been like that with Draco before, but it was then, and I never wanted it to stop.

"See you soon," he whispered, kissing me once more.

I was almost to the Ministry by the time the tingling on my lips finally subsided.