Disclaimer: All characters and things belong to JK Rowling. Once again, plot belongs to me.

A/N: A little bit of romance this chapter. Not going to say who, but it's probably obvious. God, I really wish I could think of clever chapter names!

Chapter Five

Ghost Stories

"Why did you go off alone?"

Draco glanced at Ginny, who sat with her knees pulled up to her chin. They were back in the alley, sitting side by side with their backs leaning against the wall. From her expression it was obvious she felt stupid.

"I – couldn't sleep," she mumbled. She'd had trouble looking him in the eye and talking clearly.

"Oh, so you just go off alone? Are you trying to get me killed?"

At this, Ginny snapped her head to look at him. Her mouth was slightly open. "What?"

"You have six brothers, Weasley," Draco said. "Neither of them could do very much damage on their own, but when put together, they could beat me to a pulp."

Draco watched her reaction. She blinked several times, then said slowly, "You're afraid of my brothers?"

"No," he snapped defensively. "I'm not afraid of them. But let's face it – if I lost you in this city, they would definitely kill me. And I don't really want to die."

He wasn't telling her the truth, of course. The fact was he felt a little awkward, too. He'd woken up with a feeling that something was wrong. When he'd seen that Ginny was gone, he'd immediately went out to search for her. For the first time ever he'd felt – well, worry for someone. He'd felt panicked for someone else. It wasn't a feeling he was used to – or comfortable with – so he'd covered it up with some stupid lie about her brothers. Draco was not afraid of any of them, even put together. They were harmless Weasleys, as he liked to think of them.

Ginny stretched her legs out in front of her. "They wouldn't kill you," she said. "They hate you as much as they possibly can – loosing me won't add to it. And they haven't killed you yet, have they?"

"I guess we won't have to worry about it because you're all right," he told her sharply.

There was a long silence.

"I'm never going to fall asleep tonight," Ginny moaned.

"You should try. Those circles under your eyes are so dark it looks like someone punched you there."

"Are not," she muttered defensively. Then she sighed. "I must look like a train wreck. I haven't showered in a while and I've worn the same clothes more than twenty-four hours."

She shot him a dark glance, as if she expected him to say something like "Aren't you used to wearing dirty clothes all the time?" Instead, he moved his eyes away and said, "You look fine."

They were quiet again, and when Draco looked back at her, she was gaping at him.

"What?" he asked irritably.

"Nothing." She looked away, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Draco wondered how a Weasley could look so damn beautiful. He'd always thought of them as ugly, tall, freckly, skinny freaks. But Ginny was the exception. "What should we do now?" she asked with forced cheerfulness.

"Light a fire and tell ghost stories," Draco said sarcastically with the same amount of forced happiness.

Ginny stared at him, and then burst out laughing. Draco narrowed his eyes at her. "Am I amusing you?" he demanded severely.

She tried to stop laughing, her dark eyes filling with tears. "You just sounded really funny," she gasped out, starting to control herself. "Very un-Malfoy-ish."

"I'm honored," he said darkly, and stood up quickly. He crossed the alley and sat down, scowling.

"I didn't mean to offend you," she told him.

"Who says you did?"

"Well, when you huff and walk away, I take it that I offended you," she said. When he looked at her, he saw she was grinning. She really had a great smile. Some of his annoyance faded, then came back again.

God, I can't believe I'm sitting here actually thinking that Ginny Weasley is beautiful, he thought, angry with himself.

"I have a question, Malfoy," Ginny piped up loudly after a brief silence.

"And you expect an answer?" he shot back. Why is she being so cheerful? She nearly got raped and murdered by some homeless guy and she's acting as if she'd just got named Head Girl.

She ignored him and asked anyway. "Why are you like your father?"

That caught him off guard. He looked at her, and smirked to cover up his surprise. "Like I said, you expect an answer?"

"Oh, come on," she said as if he were her friend and just not telling her who he had a crush on. "Who would I tell?"

"Potter, Granger, your brothers, all the Gryffindors, the whole school, all of England. . . ." Draco rattled, counting them on his fingers.

"All right, all right," she interrupted. "But I won't tell them. I promise."

"Yeah. And I promise I won't lie anymore."

"Why do you lie anyway?"

"It's better than telling my truth," he said, and immediately regretted it. "Or anyone else's," he added quickly.

Ginny gave him an odd look, obviously not believing his second sentence. "They say that when you tell someone something that's bothering you that you end up feeling a lot better about it."

"Who says that?"

"I don't know . . . 'they'," she said, shrugging.

"'They' are full of crap," he told her.

"Not true," Ginny contradicted. "During first year I felt a lot better after everyone knew what –"

She stopped suddenly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Weasley, everyone knows what happened that year. If you think you're keeping it a secret, you're wrong."

Ginny looked disturbed for a moment, deep in thought. "I really think you'd feel better if you told me," she finally said softly.

Draco actually started considered it. Why would he want to tell one of his worst enemies (well, a sister of his worst enemy) about his wonderful life? It didn't make sense. But as he stared at her, he began to wonder. She did look like she really wanted to hear what he had to say. Of course, Draco had grown up learning that looks could be deceiving. It was practically his father's number one rule – and he had a lot of rules.

"Do you really want to know?" Draco asked.

"Of course I do," she said gently. "Because I don't think you're like him. At all."

"Oh. So you're stuck with me a day and a half and automatically you're the walking Draco Malfoy Encyclopedia?"

"Well, I don't reckon Crabbe and Goyle are. Does anyone take you seriously, Malfoy? I mean, has anyone ever wanted to take the chance to get to know you?"

He stared at her icily, hoping to make her look away or at least look hurt. But she kept staring back at him with her gentle dark eyes, and he felt his own gaze soften.

"Do you know when the last time I cried was?" he asked her sharply, but quietly.

"What?" she said, puzzled.

"I was three," he told her. "Three years old. And I haven't cried since then."

Her expression clearly indicated that she hadn't been expecting that. As he watched her, though, her confusion melted in to something else. Not pity – thank God, I can't stand anyone's pity, he thought. It was more like compassion.

"My father thought crying was a sign of weakness," Draco continued. He kept his eyes bearing right into hers, waiting for her to look away first. She didn't. "And it is."

"Not for little kids," Ginny said softly, but let him go on.

"When I was younger, I wanted to please him," he said, drawing one knee up and resting his arm on it. "It was like . . . my goal in life. Yes, once upon a time I had a goal for my life.

"I used to wonder if maybe Voldemort had still been in power while I was growing up that my dad might've been more easy to live with. Now I know the answer – no, of course not. In fact, he probably would've been harder on me. As soon as I could walk he taught me how to hold and use a sword, saying knowing dueling skills was the most important thing in someone's life. One time he gashed my side so badly I was in bed for days, and it took a highly trained wizard to fix it.

"My mum was – and still is – hopeless when it comes to those sort of things: cooking, simple medical care, cleaning. She always relied on servants to do that sort of thing. In her defense, though, I'd never seen her look so scared when my father brought me in with that huge cut. I passed out shortly after that, though, so I'm not sure if she actually did something about it or left it up to the butler to call someone to help me."

Draco couldn't believe the words were tumbling out so quickly and easily. As much as he hated to admit it, Ginny had been right. It sort of did help to tell someone about it.

"My father tried teaching me to read when I was three, but of course I was too young. He always called me stupid, and said I'd never learn. The last time I ever cried was when he actually hit me in the head with a book. I had a major concussion and almost died then."

He saw Ginny wince, and felt himself grinning. You asked for it, he thought.

"I eventually learned to read when I was about six or seven. That's when he started teaching me Dark Arts. I grew up believing it was what everybody used, that it was the magic that everybody knew. Just before I went to Hogwarts I started to realize it wasn't. Still, I wanted to please my father badly so I kept learning it and didn't complain.

"When I was sent off to Hogwarts, I had strict orders to become friends with Harry Potter. I guess my dad wanted me to gain his trust and invite him over for Christmas sometime so he could kill him. I guess Potter was smarter than either of us anticipated, because he didn't want to become my friend. That probably saved his life.

"Anyway, my dad got over it eventually. He told me to just make Potter's life a living hell at Hogwarts. Make him believe that no one liked him and maybe then, when the Dark Lord returned (he always believed that Voldemort was coming back and that's the one thing he was right about) he would join the Death Eaters. That's all the Death Eaters really are – people who were depressed and had nowhere else to turn to. That's what my dad wanted to make Potter. Unfortunately – for my dad, I mean – Potter has a lot of people who care about him. I must say he does a good job ignoring me.

"Finally, sometime around fifth year, I just realized no matter what I did I'd never please my father." Draco's eyes had never left Ginny's the whole time he told his story. Her expression remained unreadable. "So I just gave up. I hate him now. Before I'd never really loved him, but he was the only fatherly figure I'd had."

She kept staring, as if waiting for him to continue.

"The end," he finished. "That's it. My story."

"But – but you never said why you think you're like your father," she pointed out.

"I am," he said. "Trust me. I know exactly how I'm going to turn out."

"You'll only turn out how you want to turn out."

"Sure."

He felt annoyed again. He'd just told her something he'd never told anyone in his life and she wasn't the least bit grateful. That bothered him. So he stood up and strode to the end of the alley. He faced the blank wall, trying to calm down. He wasn't sure why it irritated him so much. It just – irked him.

For a minute, he stood there, glaring at the wall. Then he heard Ginny walk up behind him and stop.

"The one good thing is that I actually have money," Draco snapped, hoping to make her go away.

Only she didn't. She did the exact opposite. He felt her arms slide around his waist, and felt her press herself against his back. She rested her chin on his shoulder, and he could feel her breathing in his ear.

Draco stiffened. She's hugging me! he thought, more shocked than anything else.

But the warmth of her seemed to sooth him, and he felt himself relax. No one had ever hugged him from behind before – in fact, no one had ever hugged him and actually held him like that before. It was different, but it felt good.

He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering why a Weasley was making him feel so comfortable. It was the first thought he'd ever had about her that wasn't malicious.

Opening his eyes, he turned in her arms so he could see her face. She stared up at him, and offered him a half-smile that actually made Draco's stomach lurch pleasantly.

Why haven't I ever noticed how gorgeous she is? he thought, bringing his hand up to her neck and stroking her jaw and part of her cheek with his thumb. Her golden-red hair felt like silk, despite the fact she hadn't washed it in a while.

He didn't even know why he did it, but he started lowering his face to hers. Her eyes searched his, as if she couldn't believe what he was doing. He couldn't believe it, either. But it felt so right.

She'd a Weasley, she's a Weasley, she's no good, this won't ever work. . . . All those things flashed through his brain, but it all melted into one single thought: I don't care.

His lips met her partly open ones, but they didn't exactly kiss. Draco managed to stop himself, his eyes staring at her closed lids.

"Ginny?" he said softly, his lips so close they brushed against hers as he spoke.

"Hmm?" she murmured dreamily.

"Your brothers will kill me."

Without either of them moving, she opened her eyes, startled. Neither of them moved – they just stared at each other, lips barely touching, for a long time.

Draco was just getting ready to fully kiss her when there was a sharp intake of breath.

He pulled his head away, startled, and looked in the direction of the noise. Standing two yards away was an extremely shocked Potter and an extremely angry Weasley, both holding onto a silver necklace.

A/N: I just want to thank Leela – thanks for reviewing a bunch of times! I need to know if I'm still going okay or if it is going bad. You need to tell me these things, peeps! Don't worry, I can take it (thought of course I'd like compliments more). Please review!