Thought you'd gotten rid of me, right?

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I was goop-jawed for an entire quarter of an hour while I wondered just when one of my stories had gotten popular.

Porcelain Notes

Chapter Two

It was three days into Christmas break and Ginny hadn't as much as made eye contact with Draco. However, it was amazing how she could always somehow run into him in the hallway when she really didn't want to.

She feared the worst; she had lost someone that could have been a friend. And now, Ginny dared think, perhaps something more. But all of that was impossible now, and the two would have to live their lives out without the other. Ginny really didn't want it to end this way, but what could she do? As bad as the situation was, Ginny wasn't about to go and beg Draco to see her again. That wasn't her style, and this wasn't a romance novel.

Ginny snorted at the last thought and tossed her head, hair pulled once more into a loose ponytail tied at the base of her neck. Several had commented that she should wear it down more often, and not just once a year, but she had ignored them and pulled it back anyway. The one person whose opinion mattered wasn't speaking to her.

One could suppose that the two were having a quarrel, but it didn't possess the same nature. Ginny wished it were only so.

She had gone searching for it, of course. It had been the first priority on her list over the holidays. Why did this have to happen? She had never really gotten a big break in her life, and while this certainly wasn't a music deal or a business contract, it was so much more important than anything else could be.

As she had somewhat expected, she couldn't find it. It was impossible, considering all of the variables—perhaps it only showed up once a year? Once every decade? Ginny had no idea what the conditions were. She couldn't just expect it to be somewhere in the castle. Hogwarts wasn't just a school whose rooms moved around—it was a brooding maze with so many twists and turns that someone could get lost just getting out of bed.

And so, she had reluctantly resigned herself to the fact that she was not going to see that piano again. She had taken it for granted, and the gifts it had given to her: the love of music, and the friendship she had started with Draco, albeit a secret one.

This was proving to be a miserable Christmas.

Ginny fingered the present she was wrapping. It was a book for Hermione. It wasn't much, but Ginny had thought it fit her older friend. She was wrapping it with silvery paper that had been left over by someone else. Ginny folded the smooth sheets with crisp, neat lines, carefully sealing the edges with her wand. And then she sighed.

Hermione was so easy to shop for. Everyone knew what she always wanted: books. And Hermione had never bothered to say otherwise, and always laughed with delight when she saw yet another brand-new book sitting right there in front of her, fresh-smelling pages inviting her to dive into their depths.

Hermione was so predictable.

Harry and Ron were, as well. All Ginny had to do was buy them candy, a practical joke set (which she usually reserved for her brothers), or something that involved Quidditch, and the two boys would think it was the cleverest gift in the world. They weren't daft; they were just…boys.

But Draco was different from anyone else she had met. His moods had flowed like the notes on the music sheets, always mysterious, but somehow also constant. Like the smooth melodies, he always had a subtle meaning beneath his thick coats of eloquent words. Ginny liked to think he spoke in riddles. Everything he said was a metaphor for something else, and it could usually be taken several different ways, somehow woven in with each other to mean the same thing.

Draco Malfoy made for a very interesting person, no doubt about that.

Ginny had thought hard for hours on end about what to give him. Money was a serious problem—she didn't have any. Draco was used to the finest, and she couldn't give him that.

The redhead's hands shook slightly and the crease she was folding bent in the wrong place. She went back and re-did it, carefully putting the fold back in the right place. If only her real problem was that easy. If only her whole life were that easy.

She supposed that would take all of the challenges out of the world, though. But what would she choose?

Ginny tried to shake the negative thoughts from her head as she finished wrapping and placed the present to the side. This was Christmas, a time for friends, family, and good cheer. But she certainly didn't feel cheerful now, and wasn't in a celebrating mood.

If she had been someone else, she might have cried. But Ginny didn't cry easily. She had lived with six brothers, and anything even remotely feminine was frowned upon by them. No, Ginny didn't cry, and certainly didn't cry over Draco Malfoy. He could only be so lucky.

While Ginny was morosely mulling and poring over her emotions, Draco was flinging fireballs at his own, which were busily demanding that he talk to her. Smile at her. Wink at her. Do anything to let her know…let her know what? That he wasn't sitting on his ass sulking all the time?

Draco scowled and picked at a ball of fluff that dared rest on his immaculate robes, flicking it to its fate on the cold floor.

Why was he even thinking about her? Draco supposed he pitied her, in a superior way, of course. She was probably disappointed that they wouldn't be meeting anymore for her lessons—but was that it? Or was there something else involved?

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. Ginny wasn't stupid. She wouldn't fall in love with a boy that she could never be with.

But she wore her hair down for him.

Needless to say, Draco Malfoy was in a very bad mood.

He had even considered giving her a gift. That, in itself, was amazing. Contradicting to popular belief, he wasn't selfish. He didn't think that the whole world centered on him and him alone. He just didn't like people, and rarely gave presents to people he didn't like. Crabbe and Goyle, they got presents because they were the sons of very close friends of his father. Draco didn't mean to sound catty (but if he did, he really didn't care), but they weren't very intelligent, and it was very nearly impossible to hold a civilized conversation with them for more than two minutes, if that. And Pansy…well, he just couldn't stand those damn puppy dog eyes. He hated them. The silver-haired boy didn't find those eyes charming at all and only got her a present just to make those eyes go back to the dull expression they normally carried.

Draco's scowl deepened.

At that moment, sitting in an armchair drumming his fingers on his leg, head tilted in his usual fashion and silver-blonde strands of hair trailing down his cheek, he decided that his life ultimately sucked at the moment.

Ginny yawned and woke up. The pale, winter sun was blearily peeking in on her, gently nudging her reluctant brain to start functioning for the day. Through her closed eyelids, Ginny could tell that it was late morning. She yawned again; a long and satisfactory yawn, stretched luxuriously in her sheets, and considered staying in her warm, cozy bed underneath her warm, cozy covers. She felt just right at the moment. A second later something nagged at her, telling her that no, not everything was okay. She hated that.

Suddenly Ginny didn't feel so comfortable. Her hair, tied behind her neck, dug into her skin as she rested her head on the pillow. Her toes were too cold, and her pajamas too itchy. Ginny sighed and slowly crawled out, drinking in its warmth as long as she could before she was completely exposed to the frigid air.

Ginny blew on her hands quickly and hopped about her trunk, tugging on a decent pair of slacks that wasn't missing any belt loops. She changed as quickly as possible, not wanting to prolong her bare skin's exposure to the frosty atmosphere.

A long-sleeved T-Shirt, big, green wool sweater, and thick socks later, she laced up her shoes and trotted out the doorway, barely bothering to brush her hair before tying it back again.

The corridors seemed especially unfriendly that day, and little stone gargoyles eyed her warily from their perches. She felt their granite eyes on her back and shivered. She never did particularly like being in the castle at winter. Most of her friends would go home for the holidays—being of the more slightly giggly bunch, they tended to be prone to home-sickness—and Ron, Harry and Hermione would band together and ignore her. The twins were gone, having graduated the year before, and now there was no-one to talk to, save a handful of first years and a nervous-looking second year.

It was Christmas Eve. Or rather, Christmas Eve Morning. Ginny hummed "The Twelve Days of Christmas" to herself as she padded silently along. Oh, how she would hate it so much if her "true love" were to do anything like that for her. Too sappy, she believed. Ginny had never been much for trashy romance clichés—once again, a product of living with brothers. She supposed that she had been spared a horrible fate, unlike, strangely enough, Ron, who was beginning to go goop-eyed whenever a certain brunette would walk by.

The small redhead was lost in her thoughts and wasn't looking where she was going—and promptly smacked into someone turning the corner, who apparently had had the same fault.

It felt roughly like deliberately walking into a wall and Ginny felt her nose sting a bit. She looked up and saw none other than Draco Malfoy.

Part of her briefly considered how unlikely it was that he was the one that she ran into, and this was suspiciously akin to one of those sappy romance novels that she dearly hated. That thought tucked away for further consideration at a more appropriate time.

However, with one thing filed away to be reflected upon again at an appropriate time, she had no other options as of what appropriate thought or action to fill in at this utterly dreadful, inappropriate time.

So, for lack of anything else to do, she ignored him and walked by.

During the brief exchange of…absolutely nothing, Draco had said nothing, done nothing, and indeed, appeared that he had the same dilemma of no appropriate things to say at this utterly dreadful, inappropriate time. It was quite the opposite; he had the most proper thing to say, but no proper words to say it with; if he had thought some more on it, he probably would have come up with those proper words: "Sorry about that." But Draco was seldom appropriate, and certainly never at the right times.

Yet the sixth-year would have thought that Ginny certainly would have made up for his total lack of manners. But she simply walked by him as if he didn't exist—like she had merely bumped into an invisible barrier in the hallway, except with considerably less curiosity than if that had been the case.

Draco felt she ought to say something—anything, to make up for his total lack of manners, but found himself being completely appropriate at the strangest, inappropriate time.

"Happy Holidays to you, too."

Well, not completely appropriate.

Ginny turned her head slightly around without changing her pace, and nodded to him. That was it. She just nodded. She didn't smile, didn't wish him good holidays back. Just nodded, as if he had no more than commented on the weather.

Speaking of which…

"Lovely, numbing weather we're having, isn't it?"

Perhaps, by a total, freaky chance, circumstance would be reversed and she would respond the way she should have to the previous statement.

Such was not the case.

She kept walking.

Draco felt mildly annoyed. Here he was, trying to be polite, and for no particular reason, but for many at once, and she completely stiffed him. He wracked his silver-wreathed head for something that would at least make her stop.

"You're not wearing your hair down."

Slowly, Ginny's footsteps halted. She turned to face Draco, her features calmly composed.

"I wore it down and decided I didn't like it like that."

"You hadn't decided that before?"

That caught her off guard a bit, and she didn't seem quite sure of what to say. So she turned around and started walking off again. Draco frowned in irritation and found himself jogging after her. He caught up in a second and matched her pace, stride for stride. Ironically enough, he did it so that their feet alternated inside foot, outside foot.

Ginny frowned herself. "Leave me alone."

Draco considered his answer, and concluded that diplomacy hadn't worked the first two tries. "No."

Ginny's big brown eyes flared slightly—he loved that. "Why?"

"Because I haven't done anything wrong."

"If I list something, would you go away?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I haven't done anything wrong," he repeated.

Ginny frowned again. "You're impossible." Draco bowed, which was difficult because he was walking. It looked roughly like he had stomach pains. "What do you want?" she asked.

"Are you going to breakfast hall?"

Ginny's brows beetled a bit. "Of course. Why?"

"You've passed it."

Ginny looked and saw that indeed, he was telling the truth. She doubled back and was annoyed to find that Draco had stayed in a neatly synchronized, alternating step with her. She tried again. "What do you want?"

Draco lightly stroked his chin, and was a little disappointed that stubble had not found its way there yet. "I want to know…what you want for Christmas."

If nothing else made her stop suddenly, this did. Draco fell out of step and turned back to face her. Her freckled face bore a look of greatest incredulity. Slowly, it turned into resentment.

"That's not a very nice question to ask," she muttered morosely, but still looked him in the eye, and saw his icy grey ones narrow in confusion.

"Why's that?"

"You only give presents to people you don't like."

Draco thought for a moment. "That's right."

If Ginny had been surprised at that answer, she didn't show it. Instead, she scowled. "I would have asked you the same thing, but in my case, it would have been a compliment."

Draco shrugged. "Well, in my case, it's not an insult. At least, concerning you." Ginny's pretty features were expressionless. "I'll ask you again: what do you want for Christmas?" Ginny didn't answer immediately, but finally looked down and picked at her fingernail.

"I want a lot of things," she admitted.

"We'll see."

"That was supposed to be rhetorical," Ginny snapped.

"Ah."

Silence reigned between the two again. It wasn't an awkward silence, and Draco waited patiently for Ginny to answer his question. Finally, she looked him in the eye again, and said evenly, "I want the music back." Draco nodded simply. He wasn't too surprised; he had been able to tell during those fateful two weeks that her once slight fondness of music had quickly escalated into something much more.

He waited expectantly another moment. Ginny nodded and turned to walk into the Great Hall. Draco seemed a bit bewildered.

"Wait," he called. "Aren't you going to ask me what I want?"

"No," Ginny said over her shoulder, flicked her red hair, and disappeared inside the great doors.

Last chapter next! Stay tuned.