Dark Directed

by Fearthainn

A chance encounter tangles Ginny Weasley's life with that of the most unlikely of people - Draco Malfoy.

7. Part Seven

Dark Directed: Part Seven

~*~

Ginny stayed the night, though she had to go back to Gryffindor Tower far too soon for Draco's liking. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched as she gathered up her things and pulled her clothes back on. He was having difficulty watching her go about preparing to leave; he wanted her to stay with him today too, stay where he could keep an eye on her and know that she wasn't off doing something crazy that might lead to her getting killed, as she had last night. Draco suppressed a shudder at the thought—she might well have died last night, and he still wasn't convinced that letting her out of his sight was the best course of action.

"The teachers know I'm back," she said as she dressed, buttoning up her shirt with swift fingers, almost as if she could read the path of his thoughts. "If McGonagall finds out I didn't spend the night in Gryffindor she'll go straight to Dumbledore. If she hasn't realized it already."

"I know," Draco muttered. He didn't like it, but intellectually he knew she was right; the sun was already high, streaming light into his normally dim room from the windows along the upper wall, and the students would be up and at breakfast by now.

"I'll come back tonight if I can get away. Colin's still here, so he may want to talk to me, but I'll be here when I'm able." Ginny came back to the bed and sat beside him, wrapping her arms around his chest. "I wish I could stay, but..."

"I know." He turned his head to kiss her forehead, and then her lips when she raised her face to his. "And if you can't come tonight, then whenever you're able." It killed him to make the concession, but it had to be done. Let it never be said that he didn't know what was best for both of them.

Ginny returned the kiss with surprising fierceness. "I will," she whispered, then let him go with obvious reluctance to gather her bag and cloak.

But she wasn't able to come that night, or any night that week. With the new round of attacks—which were far bolder than anyone had expected from the Death Eaters, given the way they had been avoiding large confrontations until now—Hogwarts was in a state of emergency. Students weren't allowed out of their common rooms without an escort, and Hogsmeade trips were cancelled. With the staff being extra vigilant, even a Shadow cloak and Ginny's natural ability to avoid being caught weren't enough.

Draco brooded and tried not to stare at her at meals; his attempts only earned him dark looks from Snape, who no doubt guessed the cause of his bad mood. After nearly a week of enduring Draco moping around the potions workroom and dropping ingredient bottles, Snape's notoriously short temper reached a breaking point.

"Mr. Malfoy," he snapped, glaring at the shattered glass of yet another hapless bottle and the spreading puddle of mercury on the floor. "While I appreciate that you are distracted, it would be nice if you at least attempted to pay attention while you are working on things under my supervision. If you cannot keep your attention on your work perhaps you might find helping Mr. Filch more to your taste."

"Sorry, sir," Draco muttered. He mopped up the spill with a wave of his wand and tried to focus on the cauldron of swelling antidote he was stirring, cheeks burning. "I'm just—"

"I daresay I know what you're 'just'. Preoccupied with thoughts of your little paramour," Snape sneered.

Draco stiffened in spite of himself. "She's not my 'paramour'. And anyway, that's not why. Just because you disapprove—"

"I didn't say I disapprove," Snape replied, and Draco barely suppressed a snort of disbelief. "Nor does it matter if I do, since you have managed to finagle Dumbledore into approving of your little indiscretion. I do think that such a thing at this point in time is a foolish idea. And I know that you, of all my former students, are no fool." Snape glared at Draco for a moment, then shrugged. "Though you have been showing a good deal of caution, which speaks well of you. You're not obvious in your mooning over her." A pause, and an eloquent sniff. "Not in public, at any rate."

"I'm not stupid," Draco said crossly. Of course he wasn't obvious about her in public. Snape of all people should know what would happen to him without Hogwarts protection.

"For which we must all be grateful," Snape said, sweeping a pile of neatly sliced goldenrod root into a jar. "Now stir that cauldron before it congeals. We'll bottle it in a few minutes, and then you can go. I'll need you tomorrow night as well. There's marking to be done, and I'll be...away."

"Yes, sir." Draco knew what the significant pause meant; Snape was going to a Death Eater meeting, and would probably need Draco's assistance when he returned. Meeting with You-Know-Who was a trying experience, as Draco well knew, and Snape was usually exhausted when he returned.

Draco wasn't exactly kept abreast of Snape's activities; he knew Snape was a Death Eater, and suspected that he was acting as a double agent of sorts for Dumbledore, but Snape never talked about it. Draco was just as happy to have it that way, because he was fairly sure that most of what Snape did was the sort of things he didn't want to know about.

The next evening Draco saw Snape off and then settled himself into Snape's extra chair, a pile of essays on his lap and a quill and a pot of tea on the table beside him. An entire evening of bad spelling and poorly expressed Potions concepts awaited him—Draco wondered if maybe He Who Must Not Be Named was the lesser evil.

At nine o'clock, the time when Snape normally flooed back into his apartments in the Slytherin dungeon, the fireplace remained dark and empty. Draco watched it, half his attention on the clock, the other half on the hearth and none of it on the third-year Hufflepuff assignments he was supposed to be grading. By ten, Draco gave up all pretense of working and instead paced around on Snape's threadbare rug, and by quarter to eleven he was standing in front of Dumbledore, shifting his weight from foot to foot while the old man peered into a scrying bowl and looked grave.

"I cannot find him," Dumbledore said, after an agony of waiting. "He may have been taken, he may be dead, I cannot tell."

Draco swallowed hard. "Then what do we do?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "We must assume he has been made to talk, and plan accordingly. I worried, when the attacks came at Christmas and he wasn't informed of them, but I had hoped...well. I don't think I need to tell you, Mr. Malfoy, that this makes our situation more precarious."

Draco nodded. He did know; if Snape was a spy, then everything he knew about Hogwarts and the Ministry was now at the disposal of He Who Must Not Be Named. And since Snape knew a great deal about what was going on...

"But that isn't something you need to worry about," Dumbledore continued. "And despite the loss of our Potions master, some aspects of life must go on. The students must be taught, and it is unlikely that we could find a Potions master on the Continent who would be willing to brave Hogwarts now." Dumbledore paused and looked at Draco over the tops of his glasses. "Professor Snape always spoke highly of your abilities as a student, Mr. Malfoy. Would you be willing to take on his classes? At least until we can find a replacement."

Draco didn't know what to say. "I—I suppose I could. I've never taught before, though."

"That isn't important. Professor Snape is typically well organized, and if I'm not mistaken he will have prepared lesson plans for well into the next few months. Since you have a good grasp of potions, it should simply be a matter of following his instructions." Dumbledore sounded very calm when he said it, though that did nothing to quell the dread that was curling in Draco's stomach. "And of course, if you have any trouble, you may always come to me for assistance," Dumbledore went on with a kind smile. "Or any of the other teachers. This is a large task, but I know you will be up to the challenge."

And Draco couldn't do anything in the face of that faith but nod. He would do his best, if only because Dumbledore was so sure that he could. He wondered if this was why Snape had turned to the old man after the last war. "Thank you, sir. I'll try."

"I'm sure you'll do well," Dumbledore said kindly. Then his expression changed, becoming more serious. "This does change...other things, as well. As a teacher, you will bear certain responsibilities that you did not have as an assistant, and I expect you to take that into account during your tenure as Potions master. Your position here is precarious and there are people, both in the Ministry and on staff, who will not take kindly to seeing Lucius Malfoy's son acting in any sort of official capacity at Hogwarts. You must be cautious, and your behaviour must be above reproach."

Draco swallowed hard. "Yes sir," he said, his voice almost a whisper. There was no point in pretending he didn't know what Dumbledore was talking about.

Dumbledore held his gaze for a long moment, and Draco fought not to quail under that searching gaze. "Very well. And rest assured that if I did not feel you could do this, I wouldn't ask it of you."

"Yes, sir."

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "I'll let you go, then. The password to Professor Snape's office is Antipodean Opaleye and if I'm not mistaken he keeps his lesson plans in the cupboard behind his desk."

"Thank you, sir," Draco said, and stood up, escaping Dumbledore's office with a mixture of relief and dread. He was going to be a teacher.

Merlin help him.

~*~

Ginny slept restlessly, troubled by bad dreams for the first time since the summer, and woke the next morning in a bleary, aching haze. It was barely 8 a.m. and she could already feel the dull throb of a headache behind her eyes as she stumbled down the stairs for breakfast.

Zoë frowned as she dropped onto the bench at the Gryffindor table, looking into her face worriedly. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know," Ginny said. "I'm not ill, I'm just tired. Didn't sleep well at all."

"You look it. Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey."

Ginny shook her head. "I'll be all right. I might have a nap at lunch, though." She yawned hugely and crossed her arms on the table, resting her forehead on her wrists. "Or right now. Wake me when breakfast's over?"

"You'll need the nap," Zoë said. "We've got Potions first thing."

"Don't remind me." Ginny raised her head and propped her forehead on one hand. She waited while Zoë finished her meal, and then they fell in beside Colin on their way down to the dungeons. Sanjeet joined them, and the boys spent the trip deep in an animated conversation about Quidditch, only breaking it off when they arrived at the Potions classroom, Colin leading the way.

He stopped dead in the doorway, nearly causing Ginny, Zoë and Sanjeet to pile into the back of him. "Where's Snape?" he said loudly, astonishment and hostility in his voice. Ginny looked around Colin's shoulder and stared. Draco was sitting at Snape's desk, a quill in one hand and a sheaf of papers in front of him.

"Mr. Creevey," Draco said coolly. "If you would be so kind as to enter the classroom and not loiter about the door?"

San shoved Colin's shoulder, and he moved slowly into the room, staring at Draco like he was a new sort of snake. Ginny glanced nervously between them, but Draco wasn't looking at her at all. What had happened to Snape? Draco didn't come to the seventh year classes because the older students couldn't be trusted not to cause trouble for him. If Draco was here, then something must really be wrong.

Once the rest of the class had arrived, the Ravenclaws they shared Potions with just as obviously surprised, Draco rose and faced them. He seemed very collected, but Ginny could read the signs of his nervousness in the faint trembling in his fingers and the way he held himself. "Professor Snape is indisposed," he said to the class. "I will be taking over his teaching duties for the time being." He ignored the murmurs rising from the students and turned back to the desk. "I believe you were working on Animation Draughts, so we'll carry on from there."

And they did, going on with the lessons Professor Snape must have set. The class was only notable for how Draco utterly ignored the bench where Colin, Zoë, Sanjeet and Ginny herself sat, no matter how much whispering Colin did. Ginny was paired with San at their long table, and it was a good thing that San was as unflappably calm about Potions as he was about everything else, because Ginny was far too distracted to pay any attention. It was hard enough to concentrate around her throbbing head, never mind with Draco right there and she unable to even look at him for fear of drawing suspicion.

The class finally ended, and Ginny dared a last glance at Draco as she followed her fellow Gryffindors out the door. He met her eyes and gave her an odd half-smile; he looked practically sick with nervousness, though she didn't think anyone would be able to tell except her. She risked a tiny smile back. She'd have to risk sneaking out of Gryffindor tonight to see what had happened: find out if Snape were missing or dead, if Draco were going to be teaching full time and how busy he would be now, comfort him if he were upset.

She followed Zoë and Colin up to DADA in a distracted haze, made worse by the fact that her eyes were grainy with exhaustion and her headache seemed unwilling to let up; thankfully DADA was something Ginny knew well enough to coast through. Unlike Transfiguration, where she lost 5 points from Gryffindor for failing to transform her desk into a racing broom. The end of the school day couldn't come soon enough.

"All I want to do is just go right back to bed and pretend this day never happened," she complained to Zoë, after Transfiguration finally let out and they could escape Professor McGonagall's gimlet eye. "Wake up tomorrow and start again."

Zoë clucked sympathetically. "You must be just exhausted. Why'd you have such trouble sleeping?"

"I don't know. Just..." Ginny shrugged helplessly. "Bad dreams. I kept trying to sleep, and waking right back up."

"I thought you'd stopped having them. You didn't seem to have as much trouble with them before Christmas," Zoë said. "Unless it was the attack on your house...that'd be enough to give anyone nightmares."

"Maybe. Mum says the house will be all right, and no one got hurt, but yeah. The thought of Death Eaters in my bedroom..." Ginny shuddered melodramatically. "It's creepy."

Zoë nodded and slipped an arm through hers. "Well, if you have trouble again tonight, maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey. See if there isn't something she can give you to help. We've got NEWTs in just a few months and you'll want to be well rested for them."

"I know." And it was a good idea; Ginny wasn't going to be able to get through the rest of the year like this, so exhausted that she could barely concentrate on her afternoon classes. It was a relief to escape to the Tower and nap briefly before dinner.

She went down with Zoë and Colin and settled onto the bench beside them, slumping forward with her elbows on the table. "Wake me when it's ready?" she said, and heard Colin chuckle softly.

"Don't worry, I think you'll know. Oh, look, Malfoy's not here," he said suddenly. "Wonder if we scared him off."

Ginny raised her head at that, scanning the Head Table. Draco's blond head was nowhere in sight. She frowned as she glanced over the room; why wouldn't he come to dinner? She caught Zoë looking at her oddly and dragged her attention back to her friends. Colin was chuckling and Adrienne was giggling at whatever he'd just said.

"I think it's strange that they'd let him teach at all," Shelley said. "It's not like he's a real teacher, and he's certainly not a Potions master like Snape was."

"But where would they find someone willing to come here to teach?" Zoë asked. "It's not like Britain is the safest place to be."

"That doesn't mean they have to let some Death Eater's son do it," Adrienne said with a sniff. "You'd think Dumbledore would have more sense."

"Snape was a Death Eater, not just the son of one," Ginny said abruptly, and blushed as everyone turned to stare at her. "Well, he was."

"How do you know?" Colin demanded. "There's no way Dumbledore would let him teach if he was!"

"I know because Ron told me, and he heard it from Harry." Which wasn't strictly true—Draco had told her—but Harry was her trump card. If Harry said it, everyone believed it. "He left during the last war with You-Know-Who, and Dumbledore's been protecting him."

Colin sat back thoughtfully. "I had no idea. Then I wonder if that's what Malfoy meant when he said Snape was 'indisposed'. Off cavorting with Death Eaters or something."

"I don't know," Ginny said. "Maybe." And she'd find out, just as soon as she could get away to the dungeons and find out from Draco what was really going on.

~*~

Draco skipped dinner, unable to deal with facing all the students in a group after having to stand in front of them all day. He didn't know how anyone managed to do this, day after day. It was nerve-wracking, all those blank, insipid faces expecting him to say things and do things and know things. And doing nothing but talk endlessly, and constantly repeat himself, and answer stupid questions over and over and over...and tomorrow would be the sixth and seventh year Slytherins, which was a disaster in the making if ever there was one. Draco moaned and pulled his pillow over his head. Maybe it would go away if he just ignored it all.

He heard the door open some time later, but couldn't muster up the energy to pull his head out from under the pillow to see who it was. A moment later it became obvious as the mattress sank under a slight weight and a small hand rested on his back. "Draco?" Ginny said softly.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," he said, then cursed inwardly as the hand disappeared.

"You can always go back home if you like," Ginny said, her voice sharp. "No one's making you stay."

Draco sighed as he shoved the pillow away and turned over. "Don't be snippy. You've no idea the kind of day I've had."

"I could guess. What happened, anyway?" She had looked tired in class this morning and she still did, dark circles under her eyes and a pinched look around her mouth.

"Snape's gone," Draco said. "He went to a meeting last night and didn't come back. Dumbledore thinks he might be dead."

"Oh. Was it...?"

"You-Know-Who. Of course. But Dumbledore can't confirm anything so we don't know for sure. He asked me to teach Potions because they wouldn't be able to find a real Potions master to take his position." He flopped back down on his pillows. "And it's hell. I don't know why anyone in their right mind would ever become a teacher."

"Did they give you Slytherin House, too?" Ginny asked. She had relaxed a little, but she hadn't moved to touch him again.

Draco ignored the pang that went through him. Usually she would have. "No, thank Merlin. Dumbledore's going to do it, I suppose. The Slytherins wouldn't listen to me anyway." He rolled on his side, reaching out to take her hand in his. "What's wrong with you?"

"I didn't sleep well last night." Ginny sighed and closed her eyes. "And I've had a headache since I woke up. You're not the only one who's having a rotten day."

Draco tugged on her hand until she gave in and let him pull her down beside him. "Why didn't you sleep well?"

Ginny shrugged, her shoulders still tense. "Bad dreams."

"Really? I didn't know you had nightmares."

"I have since...since Tom." Ginny turned her face away, her eyes dropping closed. "Though not since the start of the year. Usually they're more frequent."

Draco watched her expressionless face, trying to guess her mood. She had always been reluctant to talk about Tom Riddle, and she had never told him the whole story of what had happened to her in the Chamber. "What are they about?"

She shrugged reluctantly. "Just...about the Chamber, and what happened. About...doing things. Him making me do things. I don't remember, really, what he made me do, but I still...it's like, it happens, in the dreams, and I can remember there..." Ginny turned her face away, shivering. "I don't want to talk about it."

There wasn't much he could do in the face of that, and he didn't have the heart to complain to her about the petty irritations of his day, not when she was so withdrawn. Draco sighed and rubbed her arm as she relaxed bit by bit, until finally her breathing evened out and it was clear that she was asleep. Draco eased himself away from her and climbed off the bed, gathering a blanket from the chest at the foot of his bed to cover her with. Even asleep, she looked exhausted, as though sleep wasn't the respite it should be.

Draco pulled his desk chair over to the bed and sat on it backwards, resting his arms on the back to watch her as she slept. He rarely got the chance when she was awake, because she said it made her uncomfortable if he stared at her for too long. But he couldn't help it; Ginny was like no girl he'd ever met, open, funny, never hiding anything she didn't have to, yet so full of secrets that he thought he'd never learn them all. Her very openness helped her to hide things; she seemed so transparent that few people thought to look further.

Every time he looked at her, he noticed something new—that she had freckles on her eyelids and on her fingers, that her hair was a marvelous mix of red shades, from pale strawberry blonde to the rich, deep copper of a newly minted Knut, that her eyelashes started dark reddish brown at the roots and faded to a delicate gold at the tips, that her mouth was a perfectly even bow, just made for kissing. He couldn't believe he had ever thought her plain. She didn't have the sort of made-up, put-together prettiness that someone like Pansy Parkinson had; she didn't need to augment her looks with potions or powders. She just was.

Draco sighed after a few minutes of indulging himself and stood up, moving quietly about to prepare for the next day's lessons. He had taken all the notes he could find from Snape's office, blessing the man's obsessive neatness; there were lesson plans for all of his classes, straight through into June, so Draco wouldn't have to come up with them himself. He settled into one of his wing chairs with Snape's notes and began reading, making his own notes and planning out tomorrow's lessons.

Ginny stirred restlessly, murmuring in her sleep, and Draco moved back over to the bed to straighten the blanket over her, pausing to curl her hair around his fingers. This was something else they'd have to talk about. Dumbledore's warning had been clear last night. If she were found here, there would be nothing the Headmaster could do. It wouldn't matter that he was only a year older, that they had both been students last year, or that leaving Hogwarts would mean a swift and unpleasant death for him. Dumbledore would be forced to ask for Draco's resignation, and Draco would be forced to give it.

He was reluctant to wake her, but he'd have to. She would have to go back to Gryffindor Tower soon, and they needed to talk before that happened. "Ginny," he whispered, half-hoping she wouldn't wake up. "Ginny?"

She stirred, pushing her hair away from her face, her eyes opening a crack. "What?"

"It's late, and we need to talk before you go," Draco said.

Ginny rolled onto her side to look up at him, blinking slightly as she adjusted to the light. "Talk about what?"

"You know what."

Ginny nodded, though she didn't seem happy. "About us."

"Yeah." Draco shifted back, lifting her hand so he could twine his fingers in hers, running his thumb across her knuckles. "Dumbledore said we have to be even more careful. That since I'm a teacher, it's even more important that we..."

"Don't get caught," Ginny finished grimly. She sat up, curling her legs under her as she did so. "Did he say outright we couldn't meet?"

"Not exactly. He just said that people wouldn't like me being potions teacher and that my behaviour had to be 'above reproach'. Meaning if we get caught I'll get sacked." Draco slumped slightly at the prospect; however much he disliked teaching, he didn't really want to get fired so soon after being given the job, even without the threat of death hanging over his head if he left.

"So we have to be extra careful," Ginny said. Draco raised his eyebrows at her, and she frowned defensively. "What, did you expect me to come over all frightened? I haven't been caught yet, have I?"

"No, but—" He was going to say that it was more important now, but Ginny undoubtedly knew that as well as he did. And he certainly didn't want to convince her she couldn't come see him, after all.

"I'll just be more cautious than before. We'll be all right." Ginny shifted forward and slid her arms around him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. "I don't want to stop, any more than you do."

"I know." Draco buried his face in the curve of her neck, pulling her closer. He tried not to think of how unfair it all was; all he really wanted was her, and it seemed like everything that happened was designed to make having her impossible.

Ginny pulled away after a few moments, shifting back again so that she could look at him. "You'll be all right, though, won't you? With classes and everything?"

"Yeah. Snape left notes, and Dumbledore said he'd help me if I needed," Draco said with a shrug. "And I know it all, so it's not too hard."

"Well, I thought you did pretty well," Ginny said encouragingly. "You're not as nasty as Snape is, anyway, and that's something."

"I can work on that," Draco said, and she laughed. He grinned in return, happy to see her bad mood lift a little.

But the smile faded soon enough, as Ginny glanced down at her watch. "I should go," she said reluctantly. "It's late, and I have to get back to Gryffindor."

"Yeah. And I've got marking to do, and lesson plans..." he trailed off and closed his eyes. "Might be just as well that we can't see much of each other. I'm not going to have time, at this rate."

He felt Ginny slide her hand along his cheek, and he opened his eyes to find her head very close to his own. "I hope you're not trying to get rid of me," she said, smiling faintly, and leaned forward to kiss him.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured against her lips, meaning every word. She was the only good thing he had left.

"All right, I'm going," Ginny said, and kissed him again swiftly, slipping out of his arms to gather up her bag. "I'll see you on Wednesday for Potions, if I can't get away before. Good luck with the Slytherins."

"Thanks," Draco said weakly, and shut the door behind her as she left. He rested his head against the cool wood of his door for a long moment before he returned to his wing chair and his lesson plans.

~*~

Ginny had hoped she'd be able to sleep better that night, but just before dawn she jolted out of her slumber, breathing hard, flexing her fingers to rid them of the feel of rough parchment, the soft slide of feathers. She scrabbled for her wand and conjured a small light, floating it up near the tops of her curtains so that it illuminated the small cave of her enclosed bed. She'd never be able to get back to sleep, not with Tom waiting for her on the other side of sleep.

She couldn't figure out why the nightmares had chosen to start up again now. She'd had almost a full half-year of freedom from them, and nothing had changed to bring them back, as far as Ginny could tell. She still had Draco, she was still doing the same in all her classes, she hadn't fought with any of her friends. It didn't make any sense.

Maybe she should write to Harry and ask him if anything were happening with his scar; perhaps her nightmares were connected to something the Dark Lord was up to. She'd never noticed such a connection before, but she'd never bothered trying to draw one either. Though it was far more likely that the dreams were just a reflection of her own growing unease. He Who Must Not Be Named had snatched away one of her teachers, after all, invaded the sanctity of Hogwarts again and shaken things up, just like he had in her first year.

Ginny turned over and lay on her stomach, reaching through her curtains to pull her DADA textbook onto her pillow. If she couldn't sleep, at least she could study, and she'd been neglecting her Defense dreadfully this year. Professor Delacour hadn't said anything, but Ginny knew she wasn't pleased. At least being separated from Draco would give her more time to devote to schoolwork.

And schoolwork she had in spades. The sheer amount of homework they were being given now that Christmas was over was incredible. Like the fifth-year students, the seventh-years were feeling the pressure of approaching exams. Even if Ginny had wanted to sneak out to visit Draco, between her inability to sleep without nightmares and the sheer volume of assignments she was being given every day, she simply didn't have time. Draco looked just as harried when Ginny saw him in class or in the halls when he emerged from the dungeons, and she knew he had as much work or more than she did. She sincerely hoped Dumbledore appreciated their discretion.

All her evenings were spent in the common room now, studying with Zoë and Colin, working on papers and practicing their spells. Ginny had slumped across half the table, her head resting on her left bicep as she wrote about essence of mugwort for her latest Potions essay. Perversely, enforced separation from Draco meant she rather enjoyed doing her Potions homework; it made her feel a little closer to him. Zoë and Colin were swapping Transfiguration notes at the other end of their shared table, quizzing each other on spell theory. Ginny barely noticed when they stopped, determined to get another three inches done before she gave up on Potions in favour of her steadily-growing pile of Charms assignments.

"So has your Hufflepuff boyfriend given you the heave-to?" Colin asked suddenly. He had turned in his chair to face Ginny, folding his arms over his chest.

Ginny looked up in surprise. "What?"

"Well, you've stopped vanishing after dinner, and you're in the common room all the time," Colin said, as Zoë kicked at the legs of his chair and glared. "Ron wrote to me a few weeks ago, pumping me for information on your boyfriend. Which I didn't think you had, but he seemed fairly sure. He implied it was some Hufflepuff. Is that why you've been so distant this term? Always sneaking off and the like. But you've stopped lately, so I was wondering if he'd dumped you. Or you him."

"I don't have a Hufflepuff boyfriend," Ginny said, thinking furiously. Colin could be as bad as any of her brothers when it came to nosing about. "I only said it to Ron to stop him bothering me about Harry. He's been throwing him at my head all summer."

"And at Christmas, too?" Colin raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Because you have been awful distant this year, Gin. Though I can't see why you'd want to dance around dating a Hufflepuff. They're not so bad."

"I said I'm not really. It was just to throw Ron off, to get him to leave me alone. And Mum and Dad too...if I hadn't, I'd never hear the end of it." Ginny shrugged. "'Harry' this, and 'Harry' that. They're impossible, I swear."

Zoë and Colin were both staring at her suspiciously. "Are you sure?" Zoë asked.

"Of course I'm sure! Zoë, I told you on the train. I can't always concentrate in here, and I need to study someplace without other people around. I don't run off to meet someone, I just find an empty classroom and work," Ginny said. "I'm not hiding anything."

And she wasn't hiding anything right now, strictly speaking. She wasn't seeing Draco, after all, and she did need quiet to study, something which was hard to come by in the Gryffindor common room.

"So should I tell Ron that, then?" Colin asked. "Tell him you were just having him on about it? Or should I say that you DID give your Hufflepuff the boot, put him off the scent?"

"No! Don't tell him anything! He can bloody well mind his own business!" Ginny said fiercely. "I'm just...trying to get my NEWTs, all right? That's all. Ron can go sod himself."

"All right, no need to get tetchy about it." Colin leaned back in his chair and pulled his Muggle Studies text onto his lap. "Though I hope you know you don't need to lie to us."

"Of course I know that, Colin, and I'm not. I do not have a Hufflepuff boyfriend, and I only go wandering off to study." And that wasn't even a lie. She didn't have a boyfriend in Hufflepuff, and she did wander off to study...most of the time. Ginny stomped down firmly on the snaking feeling of guilt and turned her attention back to her essay.

~*~

February gave way to the dreary days of March, with no real change in how things were going in the outside world. There were Death Eater attacks every few days; many of the Muggle students had withdrawn from Hogwarts entirely, as though that would save them from being attacked by You-Know-Who's minions. Quite a few of the Slytherins were gone too, as their parents withdrew them from the school to send them to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, or simply to remove them from Dumbledore's reach.

Draco was feeling increasingly out of his depth as spring approached and his workload got even heavier. Ginny was busy too, spending most of her spare time studying for her NEWTs in the Library with her friends. Once or twice she had snuck down to his rooms to sprawl out on his bed, surrounded by books and parchment, and fire questions about Arithmancy or Potions at him, but it was hardly a regular occurrence. When she wasn't working, she was constantly tired and he knew she wasn't sleeping well, which meant he felt unaccountably guilty when she did come down to see him, dodging Filch and Mrs. Norris long after midnight to make it. She still refused to talk about her dreams, though, waving away his questions with a dismissive hand, and he didn't have the time to press her on it.

He had begun using Snape's workroom for brewing potions and his own small work station mainly for preparing ingredients; what free time he had that wasn't taken up with planning classes and marking was usually spent making things for Madam Pomfrey. Draco rather liked working in the long, low room; it was stunningly well equipped, which meant he could do more than one thing at a time. Which was handy, considering how much he had on his plate nowadays. The one bright spot in his day was knowing that Ginny was going to come down tonight; she had slipped him a note with her latest essay, and he sincerely hoped that she wasn't planning to visit him just to do homework. He'd have to convince her otherwise, he thought with a smile; she deserved a break, and he was tired of playing second fiddle to a pile of books.

Draco had turned the heat down on his strengthening potion to let it simmer overnight, still smiling, when Fawkes appeared in the air above his head, chirruping musically. The phoenix waited until Draco held out an expectant hand, dropped a small parchment onto his palm and vanished in a flash of fire.

It was a summons from Dumbledore, requesting his presence as soon as possible. Draco glanced at the clock on the wall in surprise. It was nearly ten, which seemed a bit late for a staff meeting. Curious, Draco finished putting away the rest of his supplies, washed his hands and made his way up to Dumbledore's office.

Fawkes was already back, perched on his stand by Dumbledore's desk, and he trilled as Draco entered. There was someone else in the room, sitting in the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk, who turned at Fawkes' sound of greeting. The man was dressed in plain robes, though he had a sort of bureaucratic, buttoned down air about him. Dumbledore smiled and motioned Draco closer. "Ah, there you are. Draco, this is Christian Keskull, from the Ministry of Magic. Christian, this is Draco."

"Ah, the new Potions teacher," the man said. "He seems young."

Dumbledore nodded. "Young, but able. He's been doing quite well, since Professor Snape...left us. Draco, Mr. Keskull has come with a request for us, which I hope you'll be able to help with."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "What sort of request?"

Keskull cleared his throat. "Well, you see, there's been some problems at the Ministry, some loss of stores, ingredients, that sort of thing. Nothing too serious," he blustered, "but we're under pressure from other sources, trying to get things up to snuff again, and we're falling a bit short in the Potions department. Were wondering if we might borrow some of Hogwarts' resources, just until we discover the source of our problems and get it fixed."

Which probably meant that You-Know-Who had managed to infiltrate the Ministry and sabotage their potions supplies. "And you'd like me to make potions for you?" Draco said.

"We've been tapping all the potions makers we can find, just asking them to take up a portion, give us a hand," Keskull said. He produced a small scroll of parchment from his robes and passed it over to Draco. "Hogwarts will be reimbursed, of course, and we'll provide glassware and what ingredients we can. I'd hoped that Professor Snape would be here, but I'm sure you'll do just as well. Time is of the essence, of course, so if you could have them for us in the next few weeks, that would be best."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the man, prepared to tell him to go stuff himself, but a slight movement from Dumbledore made him stop. "It won't be a problem, Mr. Keskull. I'm sure Draco would be happy to help."

"Yes, sir," Draco said stiffly, not that he had a choice. He nodded at Keskull, clutching the small parchment. "I'd be delighted."

"Good, good." Keskull clapped his hands together, seemingly unaware of the sarcasm in Draco's tone. "Then I'll leave you to it. Albus, I wonder if I could also have a moment of your time...?"

"Of course. Thank you, Draco," Dumbledore said, smiling kindly at Draco. He recognized a cue when he saw one, and made a hasty retreat.

Once out of Dumbledore's office and safe in his own room, Draco unfolded the note, scanning the parchment quickly. Then again, somewhat slower, with growing disbelief. They wanted a simply outrageous number of potions and salves, and how they thought he would be able to make them all himself, where he would find the time...

 He sank into his desk chair and lowered his head into his hands, and was still staring at it when Ginny came down that evening, slipping through the door and shucking her Shadow cloak in one quick motion. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I just had a meeting with Dumbledore and Christian Keskull from the Ministry, and they've given me a list of things they want me to make for them," Draco said, without raising his head. "You won't believe what they want. No wonder Snape never had anything resembling a social life; all he ever did was work."

Ginny came and sat on the arm of the chair, wrapping her arms tight around his shoulders. "Let me see," she said, and leaned forward to tug at the paper. Draco lifted his elbow so she could pull it out and read it. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise as she did so. "They expect you to make all of this?"

"Yes." Draco knew he sounded sulky, but he couldn't help it. There was more work there than a dozen of him to get done in the time they wanted. There was no way he could do it all alone. He groaned and raised his head, leaning back in the chair while Ginny read the list over, chewing on one ginger curl thoughtfully.

"Actually," she finally said, "it might not be that bad."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "It won't?"

"No, see? Look here." Ginny held the list out toward him, but Draco simply pulled her into his lap. Ginny grinned and nestled against him as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "Look. You don't have to do the sleeping draughts or the healing potions, any sixth year worth their salt can make those. Assign 'em in class, and bottle up the results for Madam Pomfrey. Some of the more advanced potions that they want in quantity, like the burn salves, I bet some of the seventh years could handle. And you can pick some of the better students—probably not any of the Slytherins, but from the other houses, certainly, to help you make the hardest potions. Make it a special project for extra marks. Most of the students would put in the extra time if you told them it was to help with the war."

Draco thought that over. "That might actually work," he said. "I didn't think of the students. Aren't you clever."

Ginny shrugged the shoulder he wasn't leaning on. "I have a big family. Division of labour is something I learned from my mum."

"Oh." Draco had never given much thought to how the Weasleys actually lived; it had always been enough to know that they were poor, which made them automatically unworthy of attention, like house elves or servants. In truth, Draco wasn't sure how he felt about her family anymore. Obviously he would never have fond feelings for the Weasel King, but as for the rest of them...he didn't really care, and Ginny was so sure of them.

"I never thought it'd come in so handy. The only thing that might be a problem is finding enough bottles and vials and the like," Ginny said. "Don't know what you'll do about that."

"They're sending glassware up," he said. "From the Ministry. And if it runs out then...I don't know. We'll transfigure things from the kitchens if we have to, I suppose."

"Well, then. There you are." Ginny leaned back against him. "No trouble at all."

"Mmmm." Draco rested his forehead in the curve where her neck met her shoulder. Ginny leaned her cheek against his hair for a moment, then shifted to face him, dropping the list onto the desk so she could cup his cheek, her fingers skating over his skin.

He leaned into her hand, marveling at how something so simple as her touch could make him believe that everything would be all right, so long as she was with him. Ginny smiled and leaned closer, kissing him lightly. Draco opened his mouth against hers, deepening the kiss almost immediately; it had far too long since they had been able to do this.

Ginny sighed into his mouth, her eyes drifting shut as he sank his hands into her hair, twining the soft strands around his fingers. Her hands slid to his chest and she pulled impatiently at his shirt, making a small, frustrated noise in the back of her throat. Draco lifted his mouth from hers with an effort and raised his eyebrows.

"Bed," she said firmly, and slid off his lap, pulling him with her by tugging on the fabric of his shirt. Draco stood up willingly and leaned down to kiss her again, not wanting to lose that contact even for the brief distance between his desk and the bed.

Ginny pushed at his shoulders and Draco moved, bringing her with him. He stopped when he felt the bed against the backs of his legs and bent to kiss her again, his hand anchored in her hair as he tilted her head to exactly the right angle. Ginny pulled his shirt out of his trousers and slid her hands under it, her small fingers gliding over his bare skin. Draco groaned aloud at the feel of her hands, and the shivers of sensation that surged through him whenever she touched him. She slid his shirt off quickly and he did the same with her robes, letting them fall to the floor as he pulled her down onto the bed and into his arms.

~*~

Ginny woke up to a dark room hours later; the candles had burned out and Draco was asleep beside her, one arm draped heavily across her midriff. He made a soft noise of protest, frowning in his sleep as she moved away from him and rolled out of bed. It was late—far past curfew, and Merlin only knew how much trouble she'd be in if she didn't get back to Gryffindor by morning. She gathered her things, dressing as quietly as she could, and then paused by the bed for a moment with her cloak draped over one arm.

Draco had curled himself around her pillow, looking like a little boy who'd had his teddy bear taken away. Ginny leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek, brushing his fine, soft hair away from his face. He needed a haircut, really, though she rather liked the way it framed his face at this length and softened his sharp features. She'd have to mention it, if only to get a rise out of him by implying he wasn't keeping up with his grooming; he really was girly about it.

Ginny sighed and pulled herself away. Mooning over him while he slept wouldn't get her to Gryffindor before someone noticed she was gone, and it would go worse for them both if  she was found outside her dormitory at this time of night. She swung her cloak over her shoulders and shut his door softly, then slid into the shadows along the wall, making for Gryffindor Tower.

She was just passing the entrance hall—which was always a tricky business as it was quite well-lit even at this time of night, with no convenient shadows to duck into should someone happen by—when she overheard some very familiar voices.

Ron.

Ron, Harry and Hermione, speaking from a corridor close to hers. Ginny crept cautiously forward, looking around the edge of the hall, to see the three of them standing smack in the middle of the corridor she needed to pass through to get to Gryffindor Tower, deep in conversation with Dumbledore.

"We can set up just about anywhere," Ron was saying, "and Lupin says he might send more Aurors up, just in case. I hope we're not putting you out, Professor."

"Not at all, Mr. Weasley. I can provide you with suites, of course, and Hogwarts will be able to accommodate as many as she needs to," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying through the corridor. He looked up then, straight at Ginny, and she froze with terror as his eyes widened. Of course he'd be able to see through her cloak. But he didn't say anything, just shifted his gaze back to Harry and Ron. "You need only pick where in the castle you'd like them."

"Private rooms are fine," Harry said, "but if we could stay near Gryffindor Tower..."

There was a hint of wistfulness in his voice that made Ginny's heart twinge. Poor Harry; he must have had a rough few months, to be so homesick for Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione shuffled closer to him, as though they could lend him strength with their nearness.

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. In fact, I believe there are a few private rooms in the Tower."

"That'd be grand, Professor," Ron said. "Be just like old times."

That brought a faint smile to Harry's face. "Back in Gryffindor, Voldemort trying to kill me...exactly like old times."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione scolded, but Ron was laughing. Ginny smiled too, though they couldn't see her. It would be just like old times.

The smile faded as Dumbledore looked at Ginny again. "There are things we should discuss that aren't suited to a corridor, however. We'll withdraw to my office, while the rooms are prepared, and then you can be settled for the night." He turned, and Harry, Ron and Hermione followed as he led them out of the corridor. Ginny gathered her cloak around her and raced toward the Tower; she didn't know how much time she had, but she'd better be there when they got there.

She lay in bed and listened to the familiar night sounds of Gryffindor Tower; the girls breathing softly, the creaking of the window shutters in the wind, the occasional moan from one of the castle ghosts. Soon enough she heard muffled voices in the common room, and the sound of footsteps mounting the stairs to the girl's dorms. Hermione, it must be, being led to her private room in the Tower. The boys would be climbing the other stairs, to their own room up there. Ginny wondered if they would be as nice as Draco's. The thought of his probable reaction to their presence made her smile; it was probably just as well that they weren't all being roomed in the same corridor. Draco wasn't going to be at all pleased to find out they were here. She drifted away from wakefulness with that thought, and for once, her sleep was dreamless.

~*~

Draco didn't often mix with the other Hogwarts teachers; he wasn't technically one of them, and it made him uncomfortable to spend time in the staff room when he knew they were censoring their conversations because of him. McGonagall had never liked him, Hagrid had despised him since third year, when Draco had tried to get him sacked, and most of the other professors were distant with him, either out of indifference or simply because he was who he was. Even Fleur Delacour—a foreigner—had more cachet than the unwelcome son of a Death Eater who'd only been made a teacher because Snape was gone. So it was a surprise to find himself shaken out of bed and summoned to the staff room first thing in the morning by a haughty, somewhat disgruntled Fawkes.

The rest of the teachers were arranged around a large table that had been conjured in the middle of the long room when Draco arrived. He took a seat near the end of the table beside Professor Vector, the Arithmancy master, who barely looked up from his mug of tea. The other staff were talking quietly amongst themselves, though none of them invited Draco to join in their conversations. He hadn't really expected them to, and busied himself with his notes for his coming lessons, only glancing up as the staff room door opened and Dumbledore swept in.

Followed by Potter, Weasley and Granger.

Draco stiffened, and forced himself not to shrink back so that he was hidden behind Vector's bulk. What on earth were they doing here?

"Good morning," Dumbledore said to the assembled staff. "I apologize for the abrupt summons, but as you can see, we have a few guests, and there are some things that must be discussed before classes. Please, settle yourselves and we'll begin in a few minutes. I believe Professor McGonagall has made tea."

"'Arry!" Hagrid had risen to envelope Potter in a huge—and probably smelly—hug, his enormous coat all but swallowing Potter up. "'Bout time you got here!"

Potter nodded and smiled, disengaging from Hagrid's overenthusiastic embrace to take his seat, nodding at the other teachers. Hagrid had moved on to Granger and Weasley, who hugged him too, and pulled out chairs beside his oversized stool, glancing up and down the table. The other teachers seemed just as pleased to see them, though Draco couldn't fathom why. Since when was Potter ever a harbinger of good news?

Weasley did a comical double-take when he spotted Draco and elbowed Potter, who turned to stare. Draco met Potter's eyes, a bit surprised at how little their whispers and stares mattered to him. He felt so far removed from the person who had loathed Weasley and Potter just a year ago that it was almost like he was a different person.

Well, that wasn't true. He still loathed Weasley and Potter, it just mattered less what they thought of him in return. Which, judging from the looks he was receiving, wasn't much. Weasley poked Potter in the ribs, and the speccy git leaned over to say something to Dumbledore, who listened with his normal grave air.

"Mr. Malfoy has been with us since the beginning of the summer," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying through the room. All the teachers looked between Dumbledore and Draco himself; Draco stiffened and stared down at the books in front of him, determined not to shrink away from the attention. Dumbledore's eyes, though, stayed sternly fixed on Potter. "He is currently acting as our Potions master, since Professor Snape's...accident."

"Oh," was all Potter said before leaning back in his chair, obviously not pleased. Weasley and Granger set to whispering quietly; they only subsided when Dumbledore stood up at the head of the table to start the meeting, and McGonagall reached out and rapped Weasley on the arm.

Draco tried to pay attention—this was his first time at such a meeting, and he didn't really want to miss anything. But it was hard with Weasley, Potter and Granger shooting him caustic glares and scribbling little notes to one another. Aside from their antics, though, the meeting itself was surprisingly dull. There was little real news, beyond Potter and his little gang being sent to Hogwarts in order to keep Potter out of You-Know-Who's way. He was their hero, after all, and it'd be a shame if he died before managing to actually kill the Dark Lord.

The meeting drew to a close and Draco didn't waste any time scooping up his books and making for the door. He wanted to get away from the staff room before Potter or his little cronies could manage to corner him and ask too many questions. His defection to Hogwarts wasn't something Draco cared to discuss with Potter. If he could get to the dungeons, he'd be able to avoid them without trouble.

If he could get there. Which wasn't going to happen; Potter bore down on him in the hall outside the staff room and cornered him on the stairs. Thankfully he'd left his little sidekicks behind, but he blocked the stairway down to the dungeon quite effectively by himself, preventing Draco from passing.

So much for his quick escape. "What do you want?" Draco demanded.

"I'm trying to figure out what you're up to." Potter shifted, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Curled around his wand, no doubt, as though Draco were going to attack him here, with an armful of books and half the staff a corridor away.

"Right now I'm about to return to my rooms. I have work to do." Draco didn't bother to keep the impatience out of his voice. He really didn't have time for this—he had a dozen anti-coagulant tonics to make, and Dumbledore had asked him earlier if he would look into making Wolfsbane potion, as though he didn't have enough to do already.

"Work," Potter said scornfully. "I'll just bet. I don't know what you're doing here, but you'd better watch yourself, Malfoy. Dumbledore may trust you, but I don't."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I don't particularly care if you trust me or not, Potter. I'm not here for your benefit."

"Then whose benefit are you here for? Your father? Are you spying on us?"

Draco's hands tightened on the books he was holding. Potter had always been a trial. "You," he said tightly, "have no idea what you're talking about."

"No? Then why? Don't tell me you've suddenly had a change of heart." Potter tossed his hair out of his eyes and pushed his glasses up his nose. "What's the real reason you're here?"

"I don't have to justify myself to you," Draco said. "Now get out of my way."

Which was a mistake, because Potter couldn't turn down anything he perceived as a challenge. He shifted his stance, drawing his wand half out of his pocket. "No."

But Draco was saved by the rapid click of boot heels approaching from the corridor behind him. Harry looked past him and straightened up, looking for all the world like he'd just been caught doing something that would cost him House points. Draco turned too, as Professor McGonagall came to a halt at the top of the stairs. "There you are, Draco. I meant to catch you before you left the meeting. Dumbledore said you might be needing glassware, so I'm planning to have my fifth and sixth years start on transfiguring glasses into vials for you. I'll arrange to send them down to your workroom with one of the house elves when I get back to my office," she said.

"Thank you, Professor," Draco replied.

Professor McGonagall nodded, and turned her firm stare to Harry. "Mr. Potter," she said, "I believe you're wanted in the Headmaster's office. I would not keep him waiting, if I were you."

Harry muttered something and pushed past Draco, none too gently. Draco watched him go, aware of McGonagall's eyes on him. He risked a glance at her, and although she was watching him, it wasn't with the hostility he was expecting. "I'll go see about that glassware," she said, and reached out to pat him on the shoulder as she turned to follow Potter up the corridor.

Draco watched her go with bemusement. McGonagall had never treated him with anything even remotely resembling kindness before, and it seemed odd that she'd take his side in front of Potter, of all people. It was the strangest start to a day he'd ever had.

~*~

Ginny looked up as Ron and Hermione climbed through the portrait hole, talking animatedly as they found an empty couch in the common room. Ron looked especially outraged as he flung himself onto the cushions. "I can't believe it!" he was saying, "I can't believe Dumbledore would allow it!"

"Allow what?" Ginny asked.

Ron spun around to face her. "Did you know that Malfoy is here?"

Ginny blinked, struggling to keep her face impassive. "Of course. He's been here since the beginning of the year." And I told him to come here. "I suppose he arrived here over the summer. That would have been why he went missing."

Ron opened his mouth, then closed it again. "He's been here all year?"

"Yeah." Ginny shrugged casually. "He was helping Snape. When Snape went missing he took over classes. He's all right, I guess."

Ron goggled at her. "You could have said something!" he yelled. "You could have warned me! Let me know that the bloody bastard doesn't have the decency to stay gone! Merlin, Ginny!"

"Oh, come off it, Ron. Since when are you interested in Hogwarts gossip?" Ginny rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Since I'm worried about your safety! And I think having the son of Voldemort's biggest supporter here at Hogwarts all year would give me ample cause for concern!" Ron yelled.

"And Dumbledore would never have let him stay, much less teach, if there were any reason for you to be concerned," Ginny replied. "So I don't see what the fuss is."

Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times. "It's just not right," he finally muttered, flopping into a chair near the fire. "It's not fair. He was supposed to be on the other side, not flouncing about like a prat at Hogwarts!"

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said. "People are allowed to change, you know. And maybe Ginny's right, and he has. Dumbledore wouldn't let him stay here if he were a spy, after all. Though you really should have said something," she said to Ginny.

Ginny shrugged. "He doesn't leave the castle," she volunteered. "So if he's spying, he's not doing a very good job. I think he has changed."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Ron muttered.

Ginny caught Hermione's eye and shrugged again, then pretended to return to her book. She was more concerned with what Ron didn't see; she wasn't about to tell him or Harry or Hermione about her relationship with Draco. And if they were going to spend all of their time in the common room—which seemed likely—then it was going to be that much more difficult for her to do any sneaking of her own.

But she had to try, because she wasn't going to cut herself off from Draco until the war was over. So several days later she slipped a note to Draco in with her Potions assignment, to tell him she'd come by that night. After the girls in her dorm were sleeping soundly, Ginny pulled her Shadow cloak over her nightdress, slipped her feet into her shoes and made her way down to the common room. It was empty, and Ginny grinned in delight as she crossed the room to the portrait. This wasn't going to be as hard as she thought.

"Ginny, is that you?"

Ginny froze in mid-step, her hand on the portrait. "Hermione."

"What are you doing, sneaking out of the common room at this time of night?" Hermione was standing at the base of the dormitory stairs, holding the edges of her dressing gown together with one hand, her hair in a messy braid. "Ginny, it's nearly gone two!"

"I know," Ginny said. She sighed and let the hood of her cloak drop back as she turned to face the other girl. "I was just—"

"Just what?" Hermione took a few steps forward, looking closely at Ginny. "Why would you possibly need to sneak out of the common room in the middle of the night?"

Ginny swore inwardly. "It's really nothing. I was just going to go down to the kitchens for a snack, that's all. Hungry."

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You were sneaking out for a snack? Ginny, that's so unbelievably foolish—"

"Oh, and you've never done anything foolish?" Ginny snapped, and immediately regretted it as Hermione recoiled at her tone. "I'm sorry, Hermione, you're right. It was a silly idea. I wasn't thinking."

"No, I don't imagine you were thinking. Ginny, what's got into you lately?" Hermione demanded. "You've been withdrawn and secretive, and now you're sneaking out of the Tower in the middle of the night? What is going on?"

"It's nothing, Hermione. I'm sorry I woke you. I won't go, if it worries you." Ginny retreated back toward the stair, slipping her cloak off. Draco would be worried if she didn't come, but she'd worry about getting a message to him after she got Hermione back to her room—right now stopping the other girl from asking questions was more important.

"Ginny, I want to know what's going on," Hermione insisted. She stepped back so that she was blocking Ginny's path up the stairs. "This secrecy and creeping around, it isn't like you."

"Oh, because you'd know, of course," Ginny snapped before she could stop herself. She bit her lip and cursed inwardly as Hermione drew back, shocked.

"Ginny!"

Ginny resisted the urge to sigh. Try as she might, everything she said was make things worse. "Look Hermione, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. But you have to admit it's a bit hypocritical of you to be telling me I shouldn't be sneaking out when I know you and Harry and Ron spent most of your Hogwarts years breaking one rule or another." She bit her lip as Hermione's frown deepened. "I wasn't doing anything bad, all right? I was just going for something to eat. It's not important, it can wait 'til morning. I didn't mean to alarm you."

Hermione examined her carefully, as though she could see through the lie. "I still say you're not acting like yourself, Ginny. If—" she hesitated, then took a deep breath and got the rest of her sentence out in a rush. "If there's something wrong...anything, anything at all, you know you can talk to me. I don't want you to think that you can't talk to me—to any of us."

Ginny summoned up a smile. "I do know. And I would, Hermione. You know that."

"I don't know that I do, Ginny," Hermione replied slowly. "I think you are hiding something, there's something you don't want to tell anyone. Is it because you think I would tell Ron? Because I wouldn't."

"Unless you thought it was something he needed to know," Ginny said softly. "Unless you thought that whatever I was doing would end with me getting hurt, and you could prevent it."

Hermione frowned, but didn't disagree. "Is that so wrong? To want you to be safe?"

"Hermione, you can't protect me." Ginny shrugged her cloak off her shoulders and started toward the stair. "You can't, and Ron can't, and Mum and Dad can't. It isn't up to you to decide what's best for me."

Hermione caught her arm as she passed. "Ginny, I know that. All I want—all any of us wants—is to be sure you're not doing anything that's going to hurt you," she said. "If you want to share anything with me, you know you can. I won't tell Ron if you ask me not to. But please, please don't do anything foolish."

For a moment Ginny was almost tempted to tell her, to spill out everything she'd had to hide from everyone for so long. To just be honest, no having to skulk around and pretend anymore. But Hermione wouldn't understand; she would be shocked and appalled and demand that Ginny stop seeing Draco. And she would tell Ron, because none of them believed Draco was good at all. "I don't have anything to tell you," Ginny sighed, disengaging her sleeve from the other girl's grasp. "Really."

She knew Hermione was watching her as she retreated up the stairs, knew that it was only a matter of time before Hermione made one of her leaps of logic and guessed Ginny's secret. She was a smart woman, and far more observant than Harry or Ron; she'd be watching Ginny after this.

It brought Ginny face to face with one of the things she'd tried to avoid thinking about since this whole thing with Draco began. Her family would never approve of him, Ron would be livid, Harry and Hermione might never forgive her if they were found out. Ron's reaction in the common room earlier was proof of that; he hated Draco, like Dad hated Lucius Malfoy. Her entire family would be against her, if they found out about her secret. Ginny didn't know what she'd do if that happened. She didn't know if she could live without her family's approval.

But she didn't know if she could live without Draco anymore, either.