I'm back you guys! I was gone so long, but a whole bunch of new people followed this story and I really want to say thank you to everyone who followed and reviewed. This is a little background on our favorite couple... another chapter to come soon!

Ginny

Blaise and I helped Draco to his room, as he was drifting in and out of consciousness. He was awake, albeit barely, when we got to his room, but by the time we put him on his bed, he wasn't. I dismissed Blaise, knowing he had no idea what to do, and called for Dobby. I asked him to bring me rags and boiling water, and, as an afterthought, I asked him to go to Madame Pomfrey for my medication. He brought them to me quickly, bowed, and left. I placed the bowl on Draco's bedside table and allowed a rag to soak in the warm water, sitting gently down on the bed near his hip.

He sat up slowly, and I leaned forward to wring out the cloth. I took his face in between the pointer finger and thumb of my left hand, his chin rested on my curled fingers. I tilted his head up slightly and dabbed his skin, attempting to get the blood off of his face. I didn't trust my shaking hands enough to perform healing magic until I'd had my medicine.

"Ginny," he said quietly. "I'm very sorry."

"Shh," I replied unsteadily. If he talked, I would lose my concentration and fall apart.

Obedient for once, he stayed silent. I continued to clean his face as my brain struggled to keep up.

There was a sharp crack and Dobby reappeared with a muggle syringe and a vial of bright blue liquid. I thanked him and took it, filling the syringe immediately as he disapparated. I took several deep breaths with my eyes closed, trying to steady my hands.

Draco's hands covered mine lightly and he plucked the syringe from my grip. "Where?" He said quietly.

Not bothering to open my eyes or protest, I placed my finger on the easiest vein and barely winced when I felt the sting. I immediately felt myself calm down, and opened my eyes to find him staring at me, syringe on the table. I slid my hand into the slit of my dress and pulled out my wand slowly. Gently touching his injuries with the tip of my wand, I murmured healing spells I'd learned long ago from Mum. I saw his muscles loosen, and realized that he had been in more pain than he was willing to admit. When I was finished, I set my wand on the table and kept my eyes downcast.

Draco tilted my head the way I had tilted his, but I kept my eyes averted. He let my chin go, using both hands to lightly remove my mask from my face. My gaze flicked up momentarily to meet his, but when I saw him looking, I continued studying the bedspread. This wasn't anything like me, I was usually so much more confident. Something about Vulnerable Draco was unsettling me.

His breath caught, and I looked up in concern.

"You're beautiful," he breathed.

"Not always," I whisperd.

"I am sorry for hitting him," he said, semi-hesitantly.

"Why?"

"Because I should have been able to control myself."

"Drake."

"No, Ginny," he said, sounding very much like a proper gentleman. "You were hurt by it."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he continued quietly, "I do not want you to hurt, Ginny."

My face warmed, and I was glad for the dim lighting. Choosing to address the former issue, I said, "Drake, what he said was cruel and presumptuous. He said it to provoke you into hitting him, and you know it. He was jealous and angry and hurt because he only broke up with me to protect me and he never dreamed I'd be able to move on from The Boy Who Lived. Like I'd ever be so illusioned as to fawn after the male who told me I was street slattern, worthless, useless. Like I'd be okay, like I'd think he still loved me, after all of that, like I'd think that I was beautiful or worth anything or that I was desirable at all, and-"

Draco's lips met mine, soft and calming, literally stealing my breath as he cut me off in the middle of my rant. Before I had time to respond, he pulled away gently, resting his forehead on mine, his right wrist resting on my shoulder, hand entwined in my hair.

"You are beautiful," he whispered.

His lips met mine again briefly, stealing any air I had gathered to argue him with.

"You are worthwhile," he whispered again.

He kissed me again, and I was prepared enough to kiss him back. This time, he pulled away with a slight groan.

"You are not slattern, worthless, or useless," he whispered, voice deeper.

My hands came up to his face when he kissed me again, one hand sliding into his hair as his slid from my waist to the small of my back.

"You are desirable," his voice was husky.

I kissed him.

"So desirable," he growled.

We kissed each other, and fell back onto his pillows.

My dreams that night were confusing. There was hardly any anxiety ridden foreshadowing of war, no nightmares about being possessed by Voldemort. Just calming darkness and Draco, Draco, Draco.

Draco

When I woke up, I was disconcerted to feel my arms wrapped around a body that was spooned into mine. As I slowly but surely woke further, I realized that the body I was spooning was a pale, redhaired, slim, soft, very naked body…

"Well, good morning to you too, Drake." Her voice was sleepy, but she was obviously amused.

"I'm only human," I said. "Any sane male with your body pressed against him when he woke up would have the same reaction." I shifted a bit. Bad idea- the friction shot a wave of pleasure to my core.

She moaned. I laughed softly. "I'm only human," she mocked. "Any female with your anatomy rubbing against her when she woke up would have the same reaction."

I groaned and rolled onto my back.

"Would you like some help with that?" She rolled too, placing her arm on my chest and resting her head on top of it, sliding one leg slowly down mine.

"Normally, yes, but at the moment, I think I need a cold shower to start the healing process in my muscles. Why don't you go back to sleep and I'll rejoin you when I'm clean and refreshed?"

She sighed, rolling back onto her side and tucking her hand under the side of her face. Her bright hair was splayed across my pillows. I slipped out from under the covers and walked across the room to my bathroom, where I turned the water on cold and got in immediately.

Nothing like a cold shower to wake you up.

I washed quickly, and then I leaned against the wall, standing in the water, contemplating, with my eyes closed. I needed to figure out what I wanted with her. But every time I asked myself the question, my answer was the same. Just her.

The water was suddenly hot enough to steam, my eyes flew open to see Ginny slipping into the shower in front of me.

"What?" She said defensively. Her voice had the sly undertone of a misbehaving child playing dumb, but I had already known she was being mischievous.

I just couldn't stop looking at her.

She was soaking wet. Hair dark and plastered to her face and shoulders, milky skin dripping,droplets cascading down her toned body, dripping off of her long lashes, wetting her lips.

"What are you doing?" I coughed out.

"Girls need to clean too," she said, stretching to pick up my soap. I exhaled loudly.

"What?" She asked again.

"You were right," I stated calmly, without thinking. "I think I have a crush on the littlest Weasley."

She was still laughing when I kissed her, lifting her up. Her legs slid around my waist, arms around my neck. We weren't having sex, we weren't going to have sex. Her face was inches from mine, eyes locked, bare wet skin touching bare wet skin, breathing combined in the small space. When we kissed, it was slow, steady, close. We had all of the time in the world, and yet it seemed time didn't exist in this small, most intimate space.

For only the second time in my life, the walls around my mind came down, and I didn't let that scare me. She wasn't asking me for anything, she just wanted to be here together. And, I found- So did I.

It was the talk of the school. Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin, fighting Golden Boy Saint Potter in defense of the youngest Weasley… and kissing her. Though we remained much the same in public, we now spent almost all of our free time together. We hadn't yet established if we were in a relationship or not, but neither of us seemed to be bothered by that.

"Drake," she whined, laying on my bed a few weeks later. I was on the couch reading chapter thirteen of my transfiguration book for homework.

"Yes, Gin?" I replied, turning the page.

"Will you go ask Hermione for a potion for me?" She said, in obvious discomfort.

I raised one eyebrow and looked over at her. "Get your own bloody potion," I said. "Trust me, you have two perfectly fine legs."

She grimaced. "But I have cramps, so I'm entitled to be lazy," she retorted.

"Oh poor Ginny, cramps and a boyfriend who won't get her a potion for them," I laughed, realizing my slip too late.

She raised one eyebrow at me, and I shrugged. She rolled her eyes, then lifted the hem of her shirt and flashed me. "Will you get me a potion now?" She sassed.

"I guess," I sighed dramatically, standing. "Though you know, you could just say 'please' next time," I stopped at the bed.

She sat up and kissed me, unexpectedly. "But that's not nearly as fun," she giggled.

I shook my head, grinning, and went downstairs. Granger was lounging on the couch, reading, per usual. She looked up at me, and I stopped walking and crossed my arms, wiping the grin from my face.

"Ginny would like a potion for her cramps," I said.

Her face broke into a grin. "Whipped," she laughed, going into the kitchen and taking a potion from a cabinet, handing it to me.

"You can't be whipped when you're single," I retorted, taking the vial from her.

"Single," she scoffed. "Ginny is here every damn day and I haven't seen her in a week. I'm running out of things to tell Ron and Harry about you two, you'll have to come out soon," she said, returning to her book. I recognized the dismissal, and instead of making a smart comment, I just shook my head and went back upstairs.

"Here," I said to Ginny, laying across the end of my bed with one arm behind my head while she drank the potion, and then she laid down perpendicular to me and put her head on my stomach.

"Thank you Draco," she said. "Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Will you tell me… will you tell me about your family?"

I stilled. "Why?"

"Because I want to… I'm just… curious," she struggled.

I cleared my throat. "Ah…"

She looked up at me. Her brown eyes just about killed me with their innocence, and I looked away.

"My parents were like any high society parents. My mother did choose to nurse me, as opposed to handing me to a wet nurse, but as soon as I was old enough I was handed to a nanny. I spent most of my childhood with nannies. My mother was busy with her high circle friends and my father was always in some business meeting or another. They made time for me on my birthday, and I saw them at dinner most days."

After a few moments, she said, "Tell me about your favorite nanny, then."

"Althea Winters," I answered. "She was in her thirties, I think. She always had some adventure planned for me. She watched me until I was eight or nine years old, and then my parents dismissed her. From then on, if I wasn't sitting at my father's side learning business and the inner workings of the human psyche, or attending miscellaneous parties with my mother, I was alone."

"That sounds like a terrible childhood," she whispered.

"To you, perhaps," I replied. "I didn't know any differently. You grew up with a million siblings."

"Why don't you have any siblings?"

"Pureblood families are traditionally primogeniture," I answered. "The first-born son inherits everything. Families that have girls first usually continue to try for a boy, families that have sons first see no reason to have more children. One reason why your family doesn't really fit in."

She was quiet for a while. "What about… when did you learn…"

"That my father was a Death Eater?" I guessed, and saw the blush on her face. "Don't worry, I'm not offended. It was never a matter of learning. I grew up knowing, it was just part of my life. I didn't know what it meant though. I didn't know what it really meant until I was fourteen, when the Dark Lord returned. And then, of course, when I was sixteen…"

"Is that when they marked you?" She asked quietly.

"Yes," I said, without hesitation. "It's when they Marked all of us. Me, Crabbe, Goyle, and... Pansy. Blaise's family isn't involved."

"All four of you," she murmured.

"Three of us," I quietly corrected. "There are only three of us now. Crabbe, Goyle, and me."

"Pansy…?"

I turned my head towards the wall. "Tell me about your family," I said, choosing to ignore the roughness of my voice.

"I have six siblings," she started, likely recognizing that I couldn't continue. "Six brothers. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George, Ron, and then me. In that order," she added.

"Well that explains your spitfire personality," I said, forcing a laugh.

"Thanks," she laughed. "I learned through experience." She launched into a montage of everything she'd had to survive with six older brothers. For the next forty five minutes,she talked, sitting up and using her hands as she got more excited. Her animation made me smile, and soon, she had me laughing like I'd never laughed before.

"It sounds like you had a pretty happy childhood," I said, leaning up on one elbow.

Her smile faded."Yeah," she said. "Everything was pretty decent until I started Hogwarts."

"I remember," I said quietly. It was hard not to remember, when it had been my father who slipped the diary into her cauldron.

"I wrote in that diary everyday. It- he- took over my brain… made me do all of those terrible things that I had no memory of later. And then when I realized… I tried to get rid of it by flushing it down the toilet, but Moaning Myrtle threw it back out and… imagine my horror when I realized that Harry had picked it up. He'd been through enough. So I ransacked his things to get it back, and then… I opened the Chamber."

"Voldemort," I said, hissing when my arm burned. "Made you open the Chamber, Ginny."

"Harry saved my life down there. Voldemort was taking my life force out of my body like Dementors steal souls. If Harry hadn't stabbed the diary with a basilisk fang after he killed the thing, I wouldn't be here today."

"He stabbed it with a basilisk fang?" I asked, shocked, through the pain of my now throbbing arm. Maybe Potter had more in him than I thought.

She smiled. "Yeah, he did. After he pulled it out of his arm. Then he was dying. But it turned out okay. Dumbledore's phoenix saved him by crying on the wound and it healed up immediately."

I paused. "You guys have been through some crazy adventures."

She shook her head. "They have. They don't include me much, and now I tend to avoid them, for obvious reasons."

I played with a strand of her hair, and she smiled down at me.

"I think we should tell everyone," I said slowly.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Well… we're basically dating, Red," I pointed out. "And I don't like hiding."

She continued to gaze at me.

I sighed. "Would you like to be my girlfriend, Ginevra?"

She smiled slowly, leaned down, and kissed me on the lips. "I would love to, Draco."

I played with her hair some more as she leaned back and reached for whatever magazine she'd been browsing before.

"Why do you need shots?" I asked after a while.

She sighed and put her magazine down. "I have anxiety. A disorder. I have panic attacks in times of high stress."

"How did they discover that?" I asked, confused.

"I used to have panic attacks whenever I thought about what happened with the diary. We never could figure out what they were. After a while, I went and got checked out and they told me. The shots are the most direct way for the potion to be effective. If there's time, I take it by mouth."

She wasn't telling me the whole story, I knew. I didn't press her though, knowing that in her own time, she'd come forward. "Does Potter know?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "He does. My family knows, of course, and Hermione."

"And he's still a wanker," I rolled my eyes.

"I always knew he had a more worldly purpose- I mean… He's never going to have a normal life, you know? People see him as a kind of savior, just because of a freak accident. He's never going to be old news, because he killed Voldemort first and now he has to do it again."

I sucked in air through my teeth and clenched my left hand into a fist as the Mark burned on my skin. "Gin," I said tightly. "Can we resist using the name together please?"

She looked at me. "Why?"

"It's painful," I told her, before I took a deep breath and unclenched my fist. "I've never had it hurt when someone else says it. Only when I do…"

Ginny suddenly bounced off of my bed. "I'll be right back Drake," she said, and then wrenched open the door and ran downstairs.