"Hey, Hermione wait up." Ginny rushed forward in order to catch up with the frazzled looking brunette.

"Hi Ginny, what's up?" Hermione asked, kindly. The older girl had a nervous look about her, but then, that was Hermione's usual countenance.

"I was hoping you could help me remember a poem," Ginny said as she attempted to stuff her History of Magic text into her shoulder bag.

"A poem?" Hermione barely spared her a glance, as she was too busy pulling books out of her massive shoulder bag.

"Yeah, remember a few years ago when you were into Muggle poetry?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course. I still am, actually, it's just I don't seem to have time for it anymore."

Ginny tried to hide a smile. "Yeah, all the studying must impede your ability to do fun things like read some more."

Hermione laughed good-naturedly. "What poem are you trying to find?"

Ginny sighed. "That's just it, I can't remember. You read it to me once, and at the time I was so not into it," she threw her friend an apologetic glance. "But now I really want to know what the rest of it says."

"OK, well can you repeat to me what you do remember?" Hermione asked patiently as the two entered the Library.

Ginny bit her lip and set her bag on the table they were standing beside. "I really don't remember much…something and fire and ice, I think."

Hermione laughed and waved her hand at Ginny. "Oh, that's easy! The poem is called Fire and Ice and it's by the Muggle poet Robert Frost."

"Oh," Ginny laughed, feeling silly. Fire and Ice, huh? Go figure a poem about fire and ice would be called Fire and Ice. "Do you have a copy of it somewhere so I can look at it?"

Again, Hermione chuckled and sat down. "Do you have a quill?"

Ginny produced a raven feather quill from her bag and handed over to the older girl. Hermione took a piece of parchment out of her bag and began to scribble furiously on it. Ginny watched on in silence.

About fifteen seconds later, Hermione stopped writing and blew on the piece of parchment to dry the ink. Then, she handed it to Ginny. "It's one of my favourites," she said by way of an explanation when Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you after that one, anyway? It's rather dark."

Ginny frowned. "I thought you said it's one of your favourites."

Now, Hermione frowned. "It is," she shrugged. "It's still pretty dark and intense, though."

Ginny bit her lip nervously and read over the parchment in her hand before answering. "It reminds me of someone, that's all."

Hermione made a face. "Who on earth reminds you of that poem?"

Ginny fidgeted. "No one, really," she was studiously trying to avoid Hermione's gaze. The brunette looked like she didn't believe a word Ginny was saying.

"OK," Ginny stood suddenly. "Well, thanks Hermione. I'll see you later at dinner, then?"

For a moment, Ginny thought her friend might try and get more information out of her. Indeed, Hermione had that look in her eyes: the spark of curiosity was swiftly turning into a burning desire to know her friend's secrets. Then, Hermione seemed to come back to herself and she smiled sweetly up at Ginny.

"Yeah, I'll see you at dinner,"

Before Ginny had even fully turned away, Hermione's head had disappeared behind a stack of books.

After she left the Library, Ginny found a secluded alcove off the main hall. She slid down the cool stone wall and took out the poem Hermione had copied down for her only a few minutes ago. She reached into her bag, took out another piece of parchment, her History of Magic textbook, and her raven feather quill. Laying the fresh piece of parchment on the textbook, Ginny proceeded to make a copy of the copy. When she was done she stared at the poem for a few minutes. Internally, she was fighting a battle.

For whatever reason, Ginny felt compelled to send the poem to Draco. It sounded incredibly corny, even to her inner self. In fact, the mere thought of sending poetry of any kind to any boy was rather silly; she just wasn't that type of girl. This poem, however, wasn't sappy and Draco wasn't just any boy. She could almost see his face as he would read it. Would he understand what it meant? Would he know who it was from? Ginny thought he would recognize her handwriting, at least, but beyond that…?

Was he into poetry at all? Somehow, Ginny doubted it. She gazed back down at her copied poem and bit her lip. Should she write a message at the bottom? No, what could she say that wouldn't make her sound incredibly lame? Maybe she should just write a time and a place, then? Did she want to give Draco an open invitation, though? She will still incredibly mad at him and didn't think she was ready to sign a truce. No, it was better to send him just the poem. He could interpret it as he saw fit. That way, the ball would be in his court, so to speak.

With a sigh, she got up off the floor, and made her way to the Owlery. She would send the poem using one of the school's owls, in case Draco recognized Pig from his time at the Burrow. Suddenly, there was a desperate need within her to have him read the poem. She ascended the stairs to the Owlery, two at a time, and called for an owl. A rather small, tawny barn owl flew down to greet her. She fed him an owl snack and stroked his feathers. He kind of looked like Pig. She shrugged to herself. It didn't matter, really. She tied the bit of parchment to the owl's proffered leg and then he was off, and out the window before Ginny could as much as blink.

Later that night at dinner, Ginny sat with her back to the Slytherin table, as she had been doing for a week. She was chatting amicably with Lavender Brown, one of her brother's friends. They were talking about the Yule Ball and what they were going to wear.

"Oh my goodness," Hermione breathed suddenly from across the table. Her tone caused both Lavender and Ginny to stop conversing. Ginny frowned over at her friend, but before she could ask what was the matter, Hermione spoke. "I don't know who Malfoy's staring at, but I'd hate to be that person."

Despite the warning bells in her head, Ginny whirled around to look behind her. Sure enough, Draco was glaring in their direction. She couldn't be sure, but the blond seemed to be staring right at her. It was almost so obvious that she was surprised Hermione hadn't picked up on it. Or, that she hadn't felt his penetrating gaze on the back of her skull. When Ginny briefly met Draco's gaze, his eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly. For Ginny, the gesture was the only thing that confirmed that he was, indeed, staring at her. Even though Hermione had made it seem like Draco was staring daggers at some poor soul, Ginny found she couldn't identify one bit of anger on the Slytherin's face. In fact, Ginny thought he looked confused. Like he was looking for something he'd misplaced and now couldn't find it. She also swore she saw a bit of rolled up parchment in his hand.

Beside her Lavender sighed. "I don't know what you mean, Hermione. I would love to be on the receiving end of that look. He is just scrumptious!" the blond girl sighed again, dreamily.

Ginny turned back around, very careful not to let any emotions show on her face. She did see the brief look Hermione gave her, but she chose to ignore it.

"I don't know. It seems like an awfully intense gaze for someone like him."

Thankfully, Hermione said nothing more about Draco or his intense gazes, as Harry and Ron had just arrived. With a quick kiss on her cheek, Ron slid into the bench beside his girlfriend. Harry dropped down next to him.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, looking around at the three girls. "Did we interrupt some girl talk?"

Ginny sighed. For a boy, Harry was ridiculously observant sometimes.

Hermione saved Ginny from having to say anything. "We were talking about the Ball, actually." she said, with a bit more enthusiasm than Ginny thought was strictly necessary. Fortunately, Harry wasn't that observant.

"Yeah, the dance," Harry said, rather morosely. "I'm sure it'll be loads of fun without a date."

Everyone but Lavender gave Harry a sympathetic look. The bubbly blond was looking across the room. "Oh, Parvati is waving to me. I'd better go see what she wants. Later," she called over her shoulder as she dashed away.

"Hey," Ron said around a huge bite of mince pie. "You should ask Lavender to the Ball. I don't think she's going with anyone."

Beside him, Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, Harry, why don't you ask Lavender?"

"Well," Harry seemed to contemplate this, though he was avoiding making direct eye contact with anyone. "I'm not entirely sure I want to take Lavender to the Ball."

"Why not?" Ginny inquired.

"You know what she's like." Harry shrugged and then put down the mince pie he'd been about to stuff into his face. "Oh, come on. Remember when she was going out with Seamus all the stuff he told us?"

"Oh, yeah," Ron exclaimed, finally cottoning on. "He said she was really clingy and stuff."

"Exactly," Harry replied and he looked frightened, Ginny thought. "I don't want her to get the wrong impression, you know?"

"Because you don't fancy her," Hermione added helpfully. With an exaggerated shake of her head she offered her serviette to Ron, who had taken a massive bite of another mince pie, and now had tomato sauce all over his chin. He looked at her, then the proffered serviette, and made a face. He made no move to take it from her.

Hermione sighed, but put the serviette back on the table.

"Yes," Harry said. "That's it exactly."

Ginny frowned. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Harry, but wouldn't going to the Ball with Lavender be better than going alone?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, his brow furrowed, but he was interrupted by the arrival of Dean Thomas.

"Hi, Dean," Ginny greeted sweetly. Her smile faded when she took in the look on Dean's face and his posture. He was standing just at her elbow, and he was having a very, very hard time meeting her gaze.

"Hi, Ginny," he began and then scratched his head. "Can I, uh, talk with you for a second?"

"Sure, Dean," Ginny followed him out into the entryway of the Great Hall.

Dean looked around them, seem to think it safe to talk, then sighed heavily. Ginny couldn't tell if it was a relieved sigh or not. "Ginny, I'm really sorry, but I can't go to the Ball."

"Oh," Ginny replied, looking down at the stone floor of the entryway.

Dean reached out and touched her shoulder lightly. "It's nothing to do with you, Ginny, I promise. My parents have just owled me and, apparently, we're starting our Christmas holiday early this year."

Ginny looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. That sounded like an incredibly lame excuse. She was just about to tell Dean as much when he said, "I won't bore you with the details, but I'm actually leaving tomorrow. So, really, this is not about me not wanting to take you to the Ball, because I really, really do." He said that last bit with a big smile and Ginny had to force herself to smile as well.

"You're going to be missing almost two weeks of school, Dean. This must be some trip." Ginny didn't want her voice to sound petty, but she couldn't help it. She was, basically, being ditched.

Dean grimaced at the tone in her voice. "I truly am sorry, Ginny. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" he asked, guiltily.

Now Ginny felt guilty. "No, Dean," she forced another small smile onto her lips, but she harbored no delusions that it made it to her eyes. "You don't have to make it up to me. Don't be silly. This isn't your fault."

Dean looked relieved. "Thanks for understanding, Ginny." He touched her arm again, and looked over his shoulder. "Hey, I have to go pack. I'll see you at the start of next term."

Ginny nodded. "Happy Christmas, Dean," she said, softly.

"Happy Christmas, Ginny."

They parted ways. Dean headed up the stairs toward Gryffindor tower, and Ginny reluctantly headed back toward the Great Hall and dinner. Then, she stopped. She wasn't hungry anymore and she really didn't feel like explaining what had just happened to her brother, Harry, or Hermione. With a frustrated sigh Ginny headed back to Gryffindor tower, as well, hoping she didn't meet anyone along the way. She desperately needed to be alone right now.

Ginny was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn't notice the tall, blond haired Slytherin step out of the shadows of a nearby alcove. He watched the fleeing redhead for a few seconds, unsure if he should go after her. He squeezed the bit of parchment in his hand and decided to return to the Great Hall.