A/N: Many thanks to my betas, Banfennid, Beccafran, Emily and Mahoney, who truly are the best betas ever!

Dark Directed, Part Eight

~*~

Draco scanned the groups of students as they entered the Great Hall in twos and threes, searching for a familiar mass of red curls. He spotted her brother first, as Weasley piled through the doors with Potter and Granger, their heads close together. Ginny was half-hidden behind the three of them, her eyes down, not quite a part of their little threesome. She looked tired, but lately she always did. Perhaps that was why she hadn't come last night—if she was too tired, Draco couldn't very well begrudge her sleep.

Ginny's friends came trailing in too, caught up in Potter's wake like so much flotsam. Draco couldn't hold back a small sneer. Potter had barely been here a day, and already things were exactly as they were before he left. Except now Draco filled Snape's place at the Head Table, and the trio were finding themselves seats at the Gryffindor table as though they were still students.

Draco watched them settle onto the benches. Weasley patted the seat beside him and motioned Ginny to join them. She did, glancing up at Draco as she sat. Her eyes flicked to Weasley and back to him, then she tilted her head at the group and shrugged very slightly. One of them must have caught her on her way out last night.

Draco inclined his head and returned to his breakfast. He could see where this was going; he wasn't going to be able to see her at all while she had her brother and his irritating friends watching over her. He'd have to be content with seeing her in class, as unsatisfactory as that was, and hope that she might be able to sneak away at some other time.

And hope that she would still want to. Maybe having her brother and his friends around all the time would start her thinking that their relationship wasn't a good idea.

The tiny seed of dread that thought planted in Draco's stomach stayed with him all day, and made him as short-tempered and irritable as Snape ever was—not necessarily a bad thing, as he had a full compliment of Slytherin classes today, and an edge of anger always helped when dealing with his former House mates.

Most of the real troublemakers in Slytherin were gone now, having been withdrawn by their parents and sent off to other schools. The ones left were the weakest and lowest, the ones Draco never talked to when he was a student—they were below his social strata, not worthy of his attention. That very familiarity meant that half the time the little brats didn't listen to a word he said, and seemed bent on making his life as miserable as they could. Draco never thought he'd get such satisfaction out of taking points from his own house.

It was second-years this morning, and half the Slytherins hadn't even bothered to unpack their potions supplies. The little snots were laughing and talking, casting smirking looks at the Hufflepuffs on the other side of the room, all of whom had their things neatly laid out. Draco surveyed the room with distaste, noting the way the Hufflepuffs eyed him with terror and the Slytherins deliberately raised their voices and turned their backs on him when he looked in their direction. Draco gritted his teeth. He really, really hated his job.

"We will be studying Swelling Solutions today," Draco said, raising his voice to carry over the chattering students. "Five points from every student who is not prepared to work within the next thirty seconds," he snapped, and was gratified to see a flurry of activity as the Slytherins began pulling out their supplies. At least the second-years were too timid to defy him openly. Draco suppressed a sigh and turned to the board to begin the day's lesson.

~*~

Ginny managed to make it through most of her classes without blowing anything up, which was a minor miracle considering how tired she was. It was probably just as well they didn't have Potions; the capacity for destruction was far greater there. Not to mention that she overheard Mina Marple in Herbology telling her friends that Draco was in a "mood"

"He told my sister Myrna that she was useless, and it was lucky she managed not to spoil water," Mina said with a sniff. "She was in tears by the end of class. Just wait 'til I tell Father about it. He'll be livid, I bet. He'll go straight to Dumbledore."

Her little gaggle of friends nodded and made sympathetic noises while Mina tossed her over-curled hair. Ginny caught Zoë's eye over their plant pots and raised her eyebrows, torn between laughter and worry; she didn't know what the hapless Myrna had done to draw Draco's temper but if he was picking on Slytherins, he must be in a truly foul mood. She had to get away and see him soon. She'd go mad if she didn't, and if his mood was any indication, he might too.

But getting out to see him meant getting past Hermione, who had taken to staying in the common room 'til all hours poring over old books pulled from the Restricted Section of the library, researching some point or other in her quest to find a spell that would help Harry destroy You-Know-Who once and for all. Hermione didn't seem to sleep anymore. No matter what time Ginny crept down the dormitory steps Hermione was there, curled up in a chair and plowing her way through text after huge, dusty text.

Sneaking down to the dungeon during normal school hours was impossible as well. The teachers watched the students all the time, and most were escorted to and from their classes or the Great Hall. Hogsmeade trips, needless to say, were cancelled. Ginny threw herself further into her studies. NEWTs were only a few months away, and she had more work than ever.

She spent most of her time in the common room trying to block out the noise of the other Gryffindors, not to mention the endless chatter of Ron, Harry and Hermione, who seemed to feel that she wanted their company and tended to set up shop wherever she was studying. The boys were sprawled on the couch she had chosen tonight, with Hermione curled up with a book in a chair opposite, talking—as always—about the war, the latest attacks, their strategies, and occasionally the newest intelligence. Ginny felt almost flattered; a year ago, they wouldn't have included anyone in their conversations like this.

Ron stretched his long legs out in front of him, idly knocking a boot against the foot of Hermione's chair. "I think you're right Harry. It is worse being cooped up here."

"I told you it would be," Harry muttered, staring at Ron's feet morosely. "No one wishes we weren't more than I do."

"There's a very good reason why you're here, Harry, and it's because we can't go risking you in some minor skirmish when you're our only hope to defeat Voldemort," Hermione said sternly. "And you know that. It's why you agreed to come."

"I know it, but I don't like it. At least when we were all out there we were doing something useful," Harry said. "Fighting back. It's all very well for you to sit about doing research, Hermione, but I need to know that I'm doing some good."

"What you're doing is useful," Hermione said. "Or it would be, if you'd pick up a book and actually help me."

"We are helping," Ron said. "We're providing much-needed moral support, aren't we, Harry? Buck up, there, Hermione, you're doing a fine job."

Harry smiled at that, as Hermione shot a deadly glare at Ron. "It's just frustrating, is all," he said. "Not being able to do anything but sit around and wait."

"And add to that Malfoy being here," Ron muttered. Ginny suppressed a frustrated sigh as Ron kicked at Hermione's chair as though it were Draco's head. "And I still haven't managed to discover why he'd come back to Hogwarts."

"If he's spying on us he's playing it close to the chest," Hermione said absently. "Though I'm starting to think that he isn't...I don't think he ever leaves the dungeons except for meals. He certainly hasn't left the castle, and I don't think I've seen him go up to the Owlery since we've got here. Or gotten any owls, for that matter. Didn't his mother used to send him packages every day at school?"

"Doesn't mean he's not spying on us," Harry pointed out. "It's not like we can watch him all the time. He could be off sending owls when we don't see him."

"Even if we don't watch him, Dumbledore surely is. He watches everything that goes on in the castle. Particularly now," Hermione said, and returned to her book, clearly unconcerned.

Harry scowled at her. "I still don't like it."

"I don't either," Ron seconded, "I'm with you, mate. Don't like it one bit. But least we don't have to talk to him."

"I don't see any reason why we shouldn't," Hermione said, and smiled slightly at Ron and Harry's outraged gasps. "If we made an effort to be friendly, he might even be friendly back. It's one way to know for sure if he's spying or not."

"We can't be friends with him!" Ron sputtered. "Hermione, that's just—it's just—it's ludicrous!"

"No, it's not," Hermione replied, serenely turning a page in her book. She looked very pleased with herself; Ginny thought she said things like that just to watch Ron go red. "Doesn't Dumbledore always say that we should take our friends where we find them?"

"I'm not being friends with that git!"

"I don't see why you're making such a fuss about it," Ginny said, looking at Ron over the top of her DADA notes. "He's not doing anything to you, is he? And Dumbledore would know if he were using the castle Floo network or something, or passing on information...and if he never leaves the dungeons—which he doesn't—then what information would he have to pass on?"

"That's not the point," Ron grumbled. "And anyway, I bet he's nasty to you. I bet he's taking every opportunity to make all your lives miserable. Malfoy, in charge of a class full of Gryffindors? He's having a ball, I'm sure."

"Not really," Colin said. He had left the table where he was studying Herbology with Zoë and slumped against the back of the couch, resting his torso on his crossed arms as he leaned forward. "Mostly he ignores us. I don't think he's said two words to our class since he took over teaching. I mean, we share class with Ravenclaw and he picks on them, and Dennis says he's as bad as Snape to the other Gryffindors, but he leaves the seventh years pretty much alone. Bit odd, really. You'd think he'd be all over us, but he's not."

"That is odd," Harry said. "Malfoy never wasted any time getting the Gryffindors in trouble when he was a prefect."

"Well, he isn't trying anymore," Colin said. "He barely even corrects us when we do things wrong. It's like he's pretending we're not there."

Ginny flushed guiltily and bent her head so that her hair covered her flaming cheeks. The reason Draco ignored the seventh year Gryffindors was because he didn't want to be seen paying attention to her. But she couldn't very well say so.

Ron shook his head, baffled. "That is definitely not Malfoy-like behaviour. I swear he is up to something. I think we should keep a close eye on him. Make sure that he isn't doing anything shady."

"Oh, Ron." Hermione sighed with exasperation. "I wish you'd just leave it alone."

"C'mon, Hermione, it's weird! And it is Malfoy, after all...how do we know he's not sending reports back to his dad when no one is looking? It's not like any of the teachers watch him," Ron insisted. "If we did, I bet we could catch him at it. Couldn't we, Harry?"

Ginny slammed her book shut in frustration before Harry could reply. "All right, I've had enough. If you're just going to sit about and talk this to death, then I'm going somewhere else. Somewhere I can actually study," she said, as they all turned to stare at her in astonishment. She couldn't sit here another minute and listen to them badmouth Draco, not when she couldn't even defend him. She shoved her textbooks back into her bag and stepped over Ron's legs. "I'm sure you haven't anything better to do, Ron, but I do."

"I'm only saying that—"

"I don't want to hear it! I don't see why you can't simply trust Dumbledore's judgment, but either way, I'm tired of listening to you complain. You've been going on about—about Malfoy since you got here." Ginny swung her book bag over her shoulder, ignoring Ron's startled look. "I'm off to find somewhere quiet."

"Actually, Ginny, I'll come with you," Hermione said. "I need to go to the library anyway. I've been meaning to talk to Madam Pince. I'm sure she has more books on what I'm researching...she's just refusing to let me have them."

Ginny bit her lip in frustration—she didn't want Hermione to come, but there was no way to get her to stay behind without raising suspicion. Ginny waited with well-hidden impatience while the other girl gathered her things, and they made their way through the nearly-empty halls to the library, Hermione chattering on about her research. Ginny nodded in the appropriate places, and found a convenient table for them in an out-of-the-way corner while Hermione went off to corner Madam Pince.

Ginny spread her things out and pulled her Potions scroll over. Even if she couldn't talk to Draco, at least she could work on the subject he taught. Their latest essay was quite complicated, on designing and brewing effective poison antidotes, and Ginny was struggling with the last two feet. She pulled out her quill and bent her head to her parchment when a soft noise made her look up.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Draco was standing in the library stacks right in front of her table, far enough back that he wouldn't be seen by anyone in the main aisle of the library. He was scowling in irritation and once her attention was on him, he beckoned her over with a short, sharp gesture.

He'd gone mad, clearly; it was far too dangerous. Ginny shook her head and tilted her chin at the back of the library, where Hermione was deep in conversation with Madam Pince. Draco moved forward and leaned out of the stacks to look, his lips thinning as he caught sight of Hermione's bushy head. Ginny shrugged a silent apology at him, but it only served to deepen his glare.

Ginny knew she should look away, but she couldn't make herself do it. She couldn't talk to him in public, but for these few moments, with Hermione's back turned and no one else paying attention, she could look at him—something she couldn't do in class or in the halls. There were dark circles staining the fragile skin under his eyes, and his hair was slightly messy, which was downright shocking, for Draco. Ginny's fingers itched to touch it, to push it back into place for him...or to muss it further. A wave of longing swept through her, so fierce it made her hands tremble.

Draco stared back, his eyes locked with hers as though he could read her thoughts. It was all Ginny could do to stay in her chair, to not give in to the need to go to him, to touch him, and damn the consequences. Draco swayed forward, almost as if he were fighting the same desire. Another moment and she would simply give it up; surely there was somewhere in the library they could go and not be spotted.

Hermione's sudden appearance derailed that train of thought immediately.  She dumped a pile of old manuscripts on the table and sat down with a happy smile, almost obscuring Ginny's view of the shelves opposite. Ginny schooled her face to blandness, pretending to turn her attention to the manuscripts. She could see Draco, barely, behind Hermione's shoulder; he scowled even more fiercely and pulled a book out of the shelf beside him at random, flipping through the pages with such force Ginny worried he'd rip them.

"Well, that wasn't nearly as hard as I expected," Hermione said brightly. "Madam Pince seems to have seen reason. And a good thing too. I'm sure that I'll find what I'm looking for in here...a lot of these older books don't get looked at because people think they're not important, but sometimes you can find something useful. "

Ginny nodded, her eyes on Draco over Hermione's shoulder; the other girl didn't even notice, her whole attention on the manuscripts. Draco reshelved his book with an angry thump. Ginny jumped despite herself, watching as he strode out from between the bookcases.

Hermione glanced up at the noise. "Oh, hello, Malfoy," she said, the cheerfulness she put into her voice ringing slightly false. "How are you doing today?"

"What's it to you, mudblood?" Draco sneered, and stalked away down the main aisle of the library without replying, his spine set in a rigid line. Ginny stared after him, numb with shock.

Hermione was staring too, her face slowly turning red. "Well, really," she said finally, her mouth set in a thin line, watching Draco's retreating back. "I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt when we found out he was here, but honestly. He hasn't changed a bit."

"I can't believe he said that," Ginny said. She was shocked he'd say something like that in front of her. To one of her friends. She hadn't even known he still thought like that.

Hermione huffed and pushed her hair away from her face. "Well, I suppose I'll just stop suggesting to Harry and Ron that they be nice to him anymore. He doesn't deserve it." She paused and bit her lip, and Ginny stared at her in concern. Hermione was normally unflappable, but Draco's comment seemed to have sincerely shaken her. "I really had hoped that he'd...well. It doesn't matter. Once a git, always a git, I suppose." She shook her head and pulled one of the ancient manuscripts toward her.

"I suppose," Ginny agreed, and picked up her own quill mechanically, her shock slowly fading into a slow, angry burn. She didn't know how he could say something like that, but damn it, she was going to find out.

~*~

Draco retreated to his room in a frustrated rage. Damn that stupid mudblood Granger anyway, and damn her interfering friends, and the idiotic rules that were keeping Ginny from him. The only thing he really wanted, and he couldn't have her on the say-so of one senile old man and a whole host of people who didn't know enough to bloody well go away when he wanted them to.

And the nerve of that mudblood, daring to talk to him like that! No doubt thinking that he wanted to be a part of their little gang, as though his presence at Hogwarts meant that he'd somehow sunk to her level, that he'd be friends with them now. Not bloody likely.

Draco stomped around in a small circle, then hauled back and kicked the edge of his desk. He swore as pain shot through his foot—the desk was solid oak—and limped over to his bed, throwing himself down onto the coverlet with a frustrated sigh. He wanted Ginny, wanted her so badly he couldn't think straight anymore. Trying to draw her over in the library was sheer madness, and he knew it. Merlin only knew what would happen if they had been caught. Even exchanging glances was dangerous.

Draco sighed again and dragged himself off the bed. He'd have to try and get some work done, and see if that couldn't take his mind off his horrible situation. He gathered up all of the essays that had been piling on his desk and slumped into a chair in front of the fire; at least he could vent some of his frustration onto the badly-written, ill-conceived essays the fourth-years had handed in this week.

Several hours and a small mountain of scrolls later, Draco's door opened, and Ginny slipped inside, shrouded in the folds of her Shadow cloak. Draco was on his feet and beside her almost before her cloak was completely off, knowing he was grinning like an idiot, but unable to help it.

"Hello," she began, but Draco cut off the rest of the sentence with his mouth. Ginny kissed him back almost perfunctorily then pushed him away. "I wanted to talk to you," she said. "About Hermione."

Draco sighed. They'd been apart for ages and she wanted to talk. "What about her?"

"You know what," Ginny said, and she sounded almost angry. "About what you said to her in the library today."

Draco blinked. "What?"

"You know what!" Ginny exclaimed. "I heard you! You called her a—a—I couldn't even believe you'd say something like that!"

"What,  a mudblood? Well, she is," Draco said, and raised his eyebrows in surprise as Ginny went an alarming shade of red. "She's Muggle-born, isn't she?"

Ginny sputtered for a moment, at a loss for words. When she found her voice, it was trembling with fury. "That doesn't mean you can call her names!"

"It doesn't matter—"

"It does matter. Hermione is my friend, and you can't just say things like that about her!" Ginny snapped. "What difference does it make if she's got Muggle blood? She's still the best witch I've ever met."

Draco snorted, beginning to be annoyed. "She's  Muggle-born," he said. And really, that explained everything.

Ginny didn't seem to think so. "Like that makes a difference!"

"Of course it makes a difference. She's Muggle-born. We're not." He reached toward her again, but Ginny pulled away. Draco stared at her, shocked. She had never done that before.

"So because she's got Muggle parents, she's somehow got less right to be a wizard than you or I do?" she demanded. "Is that what you're saying? That if I were Muggle-born, I wouldn't be worth as much either?"

"You're not—"

"But what if I were? Would you still talk to me if I was Muggle-born?" Ginny demanded. "Would you have—" she waved her hand in the direction of the bed, "have been with me, if I weren't a pureblood?"

"What do you think?" Draco retorted. His temper was mounting. What difference did it make? She was a pureblood; maybe born into a family with traitorous ideas, but still pureblooded. She wasn't some filthy mudblood, and that was all that mattered. He couldn't see why she was making such a fuss over something so silly.

"It doesn't matter what I think," she said tightly, clenching her hands into fists. "I want to hear you say it."

"Fine. It wouldn't matter if you weren't pureblood," Draco lied. "Happy now?"

"No," she said, and Draco rolled his eyes. "It would make me happy if you were honest with me. Don't put me off by telling me whatever you think I want to hear."

"Fine, then," he snapped. "No. No, I would not be with you if you weren't a pureblood. Is that better?"

Ginny paled and opened her mouth, then shut it again. She swallowed and turned her face away, closing her eyes. "I don't know how you can think that," she said after a moment, her voice trembling. "Why should it matter who my parents were, what sort of breeding I have?"

"It just does," Draco said. Of course it did. It was what he had been raised to believe; it was the centre-point of his entire upbringing. He took a deep breath and clamped down on his temper. "We have pure blood," he began, choosing his words with care. He would make her understand. He had to. "We shouldn't be mixing with Muggles, we should be preserving our wizard blood, protecting our world. Not breeding with people who don't know anything, who are just going to try and change things from the way they should be done."

"So because it's always been done this way, it always should be?" Ginny said, and waved one had to cut him off before he could speak. "And it has not always been done! We've been mingling with Muggles since the Hogwarts founding. Longer. There's no such thing as pure wizarding blood."

"Yes there is, and we have it," Draco said. "We have a duty to make sure it stays that way, and not go 'round dirtying it up."

Ginny stared at him for a moment, and Draco realized that he had said something wrong. "'Dirtying it up'?" she said incredulously. "There's nothing dirty about Muggles. They just don't have any magic, that doesn't make them inferior!"

"Yes it does!" Draco snapped. "Of course it does. We aren't like them. We're special. We have magic, and it makes us different—"

"Different doesn't mean better! You really think that just because both your parents had magic, that makes you superior to anyone else?" Ginny demanded. "You really believe that?"

"Yes. Because we are better. We are more important, and we do have powers that set us above Muggles, and it doesn't make sense that people who have been wizards for generations should be shunted to one side for people who don't even know what magic is!"

Ginny gaped at him, shaking her head. "I can't believe that you really think that."

"Why not? It's true. We're wizards for a reason, we're pure-blooded for a reason, and you can't just say it doesn't matter that we have magic. We should be preserving that magic instead of diluting it with Muggle blood!" Draco pushed a hand through his hair in frustration. How could she be angry that he had standards? Even his father didn't care about proper blood anymore, running around and consorting with You-Know-Who.

"Fine, then," Ginny said stiffly, as though it were hard for her to get the words out. "Fine. You'd rather think that you're somehow superior to everyone else than see that magic's got nothing to do with what sort of family you're born into."

She moved away and picked her cloak up from where it had fallen to the stone floor, swinging it over her shoulders. She was going to leave, he realized suddenly. It had been weeks since they'd been able to be alone, and she was leaving. "Ginny, don't—"

She acted as though she hadn't heard, pulling the hood of her cloak up and opening the door, shutting it behind her as she left without a backward glance.

~*~

Ginny stalked back up to Gryffindor Tower in a white rage, so utterly furious that she could barely remember to be cautious. How dare he say things like that about Hermione? About any of her friends? All of her friends had some Muggle blood. Every last one. Zoë's mum was a Muggle, both of Colin's parents were Muggle, Harry was, even Adrienne and Shelley had some Muggle blood. In fact, she could only think of one other family in Gryffindor besides her own who were totally pure-blooded.

The common room was still empty, and Ginny threw herself into one of the chairs by the fire, staring blindly into the embers. Now that the first rush of anger was leaving, her chest was aching with reaction. How could he be so...so...blind? How could he have come all this way and still think that he was so bloody superior to everyone else? How could he say those things to her—to her!—as though it was perfectly acceptable for him to be a stuck-up, bigoted prat, to insult her friends and her family and her whole upbringing to her face?

Ginny tapped her fingers against the arm of the chair, too restless to sleep, too cautious of waking anyone up to pace or rage like she wanted to. She settled for kicking her heels against the chair legs, and spent a sleepless night by the fire. Zoë found her just before breakfast and tapped her lightly on the arm to shake her out of her light doze.

"Better get up before anyone else sees you," Zoë whispered. "The girls will be down soon, and Hermione."

Ginny nodded her thanks and ran upstairs to gather her books and change into fresh robes, racing back downstairs just in time to meet Ron, Hermione and Harry as they climbed out of the portrait.

"There you are!" Ron cried when he saw her. "We were about to send Hermione up to get you."

"No need," Ginny said, summoning up a smile. "Here I am."

Ron grinned, and Ginny couldn't help but grin back, following the three of them out the portrait hole and down to the Great Hall.

"Malfoy's not here," Ron said as they sat down, glancing significantly at Hermione. "Wonder where he's at."

"I don't know, and honestly, Ron, I don't care," Hermione retorted. "And could you please stop with the constant updating of Malfoy's position? No one else cares either."

Ginny bit her lip and bent her head over her plate. She cared, but she was determined not to show it. A small part of her was glad he wasn't there; she was still angry, though it was all mixed up with a stomach-churning regret. She didn't really want to be furious with him, but she couldn't stop remembering what he'd said, remembering the look on his face as he dismissed Hermione as unworthy just because she was Muggle-born.

Ginny crumbled a muffin into bits without eating a bite—for all his earlier concern, Ron didn't even notice—and gathered up her books at the end of the meal with a sick, sinking dread. They had Potions just before lunch, an entire hour of sitting in his classroom and having to watch him. She didn't know if she was more worried about his temper or her own. What if he said something? What if he didn't?

The morning's classes passed in a blur, and as much as Ginny dragged her feet on the way down to the dungeons, the moment she had been dreading came all too soon. Draco wasn't there, which was almost a let-down, after her morning of ceaseless worry. She set her books down on the bench in her usual place beside Sanjeet and rubbed absently at her hands as she looked around the classroom—she had been clutching her books so tightly they'd left ridges in her palms.

San cast her an odd glance but didn't comment, turning his attention to setting up his cauldron and laying out supplies. Ginny rubbed her hands nervously on her robes and followed suit, taking extra care so that she didn't drop anything and make this day a bigger mess than it already was.

Draco finally arrived ten minutes late, his expression black. He dropped his pile of books and papers on the desk and waved his wand irritably at the chalkboard. "Advanced Swelling Potions," he barked, as a list of ingredients and instructions appeared. "There are your instructions. Don't dawdle."

The students exchanged bewildered glances over their cauldrons; he usually gave at least some instruction before setting them to work, but Draco only yanked his chair out and sat down at the desk without even looking at them. Ginny could hear Colin and Zoë whispering behind her as she sorted through her ingredients for what the potion called for, though she couldn't catch what they were talking about. It didn't matter though; the only thing that did was getting through the next forty minutes without making an utter mess of things.

She did it, too, a miraculous feat aided by the occasional whispered hint from Sanjeet, who never got flustered and was better at Potions than anyone else. At the end of class, Ginny had a perfectly prepared vial of Swelling Solution to present to Draco. She approached the desk half-hiding behind San, trying to plan out possible reactions in her head so that anything Draco did wouldn't take her by surprise and leave her flustered.

He didn't raise his eyes from his book when she handed over her vial.

Ginny walked back to her desk feeling worse than she had before, though she wasn't sure how that could be possible. He didn't even look at her. She'd spent all morning in a fit of nervous, furious energy, and he hadn't even glanced at her once. She gathered up her books with quick, jerky movements, ignoring San's curious look as she stormed toward the door, head held high. Two could play that...if he wanted to ignore her, she would do the same.

*

That night, she had another nightmare.

This one was different. Instead of waking up to the soft red cocoon of her bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, she opened her eyes on a staircase halfway between the Great Hall and the tower. She was barefoot, without even a dressing gown against the night chill, unable to remember exactly how she had gotten there. She couldn't remember the whole of her dream, only that it had begun as her nightmares about Tom always did, and faded at some point into...something else. How she had got out of Gryffindor Tower, down the stairs, and past the Great Hall to the doors without even her Shadow cloak as protection from discovery, she didn't know.

Ginny took a deep breath, surprisingly calm in the face of the sheer strangeness of waking up outside of Gryffindor, and headed back up the stairs. It wasn't until she was safely in her own bed again, with her old protections cast around her and a light hovering at the top of her curtains, that she began to shake.

*

No one noticed her late-night escapade. Hermione was spending much of her time in Ron and Harry's room in the boys' dorms, having declared the common room too crowded for serious discussion, and Ron's only comment was that she looked somewhat peaky.

"I'm fine, Ron," Ginny said, "just tired." Which was absolutely true, though probably not for the reasons he might have thought.

Zoë was harder to fool. She caught up with Ginny outside the Great Hall and pulled her into the girls' loo, her small, earnest face concerned. "Are you sure it's just that you're tired?" she asked. "Because frankly, Ginny, you look like death warmed over today. It isn't anything more serious, is it?"

"No, it's not," Ginny insisted. "I'm just not sleeping well, and it's not like we haven't anything to worry about."

"I know, but I'm worried about you. Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey."

"That's not necessary," Ginny said. "She'd only give me a sleeping potion, and you know how I hate them." She did hate sleeping potions; all they did was ensure she couldn't wake up from her nightmares when she had them.

Zoë nodded, though she didn't look appeased. "Maybe you should talk to her anyway. You might be sick. You're looking awfully run down."

"It's nothing I won't live through," Ginny said with a wry smile. "It can't last forever, can it?"

"Ginny...." Zoë sighed and shook her head. "Just—I've told you enough that you can tell me anything. If you need to talk about things...if you're worried, or you want to vent, or anything."

To her own horror, Ginny's eyes prickled with tears. "I know, Zoë. And thank you. I know I've been a terrible friend lately...you're too patient with me."

Zoë smiled in return. "You haven't been a terrible friend. Not ever."

"Yes I have." Ginny gave a slightly watery laugh and reached out to wrap her arms around Zoë. "Thank you anyway," she said.

Zoë hugged her back, wiping at her own eyes as they pulled apart. "There. Now Colin will tease us both all morning about being silly girls."

"Not if we don't tell him," Ginny said, managing a laugh.

Zoë laughed too and pulled her off to the Great Hall for breakfast. Ginny let her, and had an enjoyable meal despite her inability to stop checking for Draco at every turn. She was still angry but she couldn't spend all her energy dwelling on it, nor on worrying that she didn't see him all day. They didn't have Potions, and he didn't show up for meals, but Ginny refused to fret about it.

Colin volunteered to help Ginny with her Arithmancy problems that evening, and they settled at a table in the common room with Zoë, San and Adrienne. Even schoolwork wasn't a respite from thinking about him...it had always been Draco who helped her with Arithmancy, and it was far more difficult to understand without his snippy but thorough explanations.

She was so deep into her work that she didn't even register Dennis Creevey's arrival until he mentioned Draco's name.

"Dunno what's got into Malfoy. Just about everyone failed," he was saying to Colin, "so I suppose I oughtn't to feel that badly. But I worked really hard on that essay, and he thinks it's worth a fail? Even Snape wasn't that mean."

Ginny looked up in surprise. Dennis was leaning against the table, showing a scroll to Colin. "That's so unfair!" Colin said. "He can't just fail you because he wants to! You should talk to Professor McGonagall about it. She'll do something."

Dennis frowned at his paper. "I don't know if it's even worth it. Like I said, everyone failed, or near as. Even the Slytherins." He grinned at that. "Which was pretty shocking for them, I bet."

That made the others laugh, but Ginny frowned at her scroll. Something was wrong with Draco, she was certain of it...he hadn't ever been quite so cruel before. Not to the students, anyway. Not in a way that might get him in trouble with Dumbledore—that sort of trouble was the last thing he wanted.

Ginny stomped down on the thread of worry that thought had birthed. She was angry, but she didn't want Draco to get in trouble—though it was really his own fault, for going 'round being even more nasty to people. She bit her lip in frustration, jabbing her quill into the parchment. He had to learn that he couldn't just treat people that way, and that throwing tantrums wasn't going to make him right. He was being a big baby, really.

But when he didn't appear for breakfast for the third day in a row, Ginny's concern started to outweigh her anger. Potions loomed over her entire day, and by the time she followed Colin, Zoë and San into the dungeon at the end of the day she was half-frantic with concern.

She needn't have worried; Draco was there already, bent over a book at his desk. Ginny examined his face when he wasn't looking her way; his face was pale except for the delicate skin under his eyes, which was a deep, purplish blue. He looked exhausted.

Ginny bit her lip and looked down at her hands, feeling strangely guilty. Surely if he weren't sleeping well, it was partly her fault. But as the class filed in and settled down, his worn look was replaced by a fierce scowl. He stood up and folded his arms over his chest, glaring around the room until everyone had quieted—Dumbledore must have spoken to him about his classes, for he seemed actively ready to teach today, and not just let them fend for themselves as he had last class.

"We are making anti-carcinogenic potions today," Draco said. "This is an advanced healing potion and some of the ingredients require a great deal of care when handling." He swept the classroom with a cool glance and drew his wand, pointing it at the board. The potion recipe appeared there and Ginny heard San whistle under his breath as they read it through.

It was more complex than anything he had assigned them before, and Ginny didn't even recognize half the ingredients. Draco levitated a large box onto his desk and began moving through the desks, setting individual glass bottles of a deep green liquid in front of each of them as he spoke. "Actinonin, which you won't be familiar with, is very acidic, and particularly dangerous. It's also expensive. Don't spill any."

His eyes flickered to Ginny as he passed by her chair, and she swallowed hard. He seemed thinner, too, which perhaps wasn't surprising, since he hadn't been to a meal in the Great Hall since their argument. That only made her feel worse; that was her fault too, and she wasn't sure how to make it right.

Maybe she should just go and talk to him tonight. She'd calmed down considerably since their argument, and she did miss him; surely he'd be willing to talk to her too. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he moved around the room. He really did look thinner, and he seemed...older, as though their three days apart had aged him. Or perhaps the events of the last few months were finally showing. Dumbledore was working him far too hard, between classes and the Ministry's demands; it was enough to tire anyone.

Ginny absently measured out the first of her ingredients, splitting her attention between her cauldron and Draco's progress through the room. Once he'd handed out all the bottles and did a cursory check of their progress, he moved back to his desk.

Then he turned, and suddenly they were looking at each other.

For the briefest of moments, the guarded look left his eyes and she could see his weariness, his loneliness. He was looking at her the way he used to when they were alone, as though she was the only thing in the world. Then he blinked, and the cool mask was back in place, so quickly that Ginny almost thought she had imagined it.

She quickly dropped her eyes back to her potion, flustered; it was hard enough to concentrate when she wasn't worrying, never mind when she was worrying and he was watching her do it. She grabbed for her container of Ashwinder eggs without looking, and her arm brushed the small bottle of actinonin. It fell, almost in slow motion, and Ginny watched in horrified fascination as it rolled gracefully toward the edge of her desk and off.

It shattered in a spectacular fashion, spraying glass shards across the flagstones. Tiny wisps of smoke began to appear where some of the droplets had hit the wooden desks. Ginny swallowed hard and bent down without considering, thinking to pick up some of the shards of glass and move them before someone stepped on one. But a long-fingered hand closed around her wrist, and Draco yanked her to her feet, his face bloodless with fury.

"Don't touch it," he snapped. "It's acidic. Which you would know had you been listening. Ten points from Gryffindor, since you were obviously not paying attention, and a further ten for being incapable of following directions. Be grateful I don't take points for your clumsiness."

Ginny gaped at him in shock as he dropped her wrist and drew his wand. "Scourgify," he muttered, and the broken glass and spilled actinonin was cleared away.

Her cheeks were burning with mortification and rage. Draco caught her gaze and held it a moment, his eyes hard as granite. She dropped her eyes first, biting her lip so hard she nearly drew blood to stop herself from shouting something regrettable at him. She reached for her bottle of newt livers with a shaking hand, determined not to look up.

Draco turned away, and he must have looked fearsome, for the class was silent, the only noise the soft clicking of ladles against cauldron sides as the rest of the students bent to their work. Ginny could feel Zoë and Colin watching her, and San's silent, comforting presence beside her—he carefully measured a portion of actinonin into a cup and slid it toward her without a word. She looked up and nodded her thanks, pouring the thick liquid into her cauldron with shaking hands.

Her hands were still trembling slightly at the end of class, and it took all her courage to gather up her vial and take it up to Draco for marking.

He didn't look at her as he took it, didn't touch her fingers with his as he normally would have, didn't acknowledge her presence at all as he made a note on the side of the bottle and stowed it with the rest.

Thankfully, Potions was their last class of the day, and somehow Ginny managed to make it back to Gryffindor and into her dorm without breaking down. She drew her curtains around her bed and lay down, finally allowing her tears to escape now that no one was there to see her cry. Seven years of living with two of the nosiest girls in Hogwarts had taught her how to do it quietly; only the occasional soft sniffle would give her away.

Particularly to someone who was listening for it. Ginny's curtains shifted and parted, and Zoë slipped between them to sit on the end of her narrow bed. She rested a hand gently on Ginny's leg, her eyebrows raised. Ginny tried on a smile, but couldn't quite manage it.

"Oh," Zoë said softly. "Oh, Ginny." She stood up and vanished through the curtains, returning a moment later with a handkerchief, which Ginny took gratefully, wiping at her cheeks and nose.

Ginny sat up with her back against her headboard, and Zoë curled up in front of her drawn-up knees, examining Ginny with kind eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I can't," Ginny whispered. "It's too—I just can't."

Zoë nodded and reached out to pat her leg, but even that small, kind gesture was too much. Ginny felt her face crumpling again, and dropped her head forward onto her knees, biting her lip to keep from sobbing aloud. Everything was ruined and she couldn't even tell anyone.

"I did tell you you could tell me anything, didn't I?" Zoë said gently. "Is it just because of what Malfoy said to you in Potions? Because he's a prat."

"It's not that. Not just that," Ginny said. "It's...it's...I lied. About the boyfriend thing. To Ron, and to my parents, and to you and Colin, and everyone. I do have one—sort of. I did. We had a fight, and I don't even know anymore. And I couldn't say anything because he's—it's too..." Ginny trailed off, shaking her head. "I don't even know where to start."

"Start at the beginning," Zoë suggested with a small smile. "Who is it? Surely it isn't someone terrible enough to warrant being this upset."

Ginny glanced up at her friend's kind, earnest face and bit her lip. "It is. Oh, Zoë, you have no idea."

"Then tell me. Mum always says, pain shared is pain halved," Zoë replied, "and whoever he is, he seems to be causing you a fair amount."

"You have no idea," Ginny repeated. She picked at her coverlet in an agony of indecision. She could tell. Just come out with it, tell Zoë, who would say something sensible, and then they could laugh about it, and maybe she'd feel a little less like her world was ending. She looked up again, into Zoë's solemn eyes, and made a decision. "You have to promise me you won't tell anyone this. Not the other girls, not Hermione or Ron, and not Colin."

Zoë's eyes widened, but she nodded. "I promise. I won't tell a soul."

"Swear it."

"Really, Ginny, I don't think—"

"Swear you won't tell," Ginny insisted. She trusted Zoë, but this was too important to leave to mere trust.

"All right. I swear that whatever you tell me won't leave this bed," Zoë said, her tone indulgent. "Though you might want to put up a silencing charm so the girls don't come up and hear, if it's that serious."

That wasn't a bad idea; Ginny dug out her wand and cast one on her curtains, ignoring Zoë's surprised look. "All right," she said when it was done. "I've been—"

And she faltered. She couldn't do it. She couldn't tell, not even to relieve the crushing pain she felt. Even when he made her so angry she could barely breathe, she couldn't bring herself to risk his safety.

Zoë waited expectantly for a moment, and when Ginny didn't reply she let out a small sigh of exasperation. "Just tell me. You can't go to all the trouble of making me swear I won't tell and then not say."

Ginny nodded miserably. Surely it couldn't get any worse. She bit her lip, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Draco," she said quietly. "I've been...seeing Draco."

After several long, silent moments Ginny opened her eyes. Zoë hadn't moved at all; she was staring at Ginny, her face utterly blank. Ginny swallowed nervously. This wasn't quite the reaction she'd been hoping for.

"Draco Malfoy," Zoë said flatly.

Ginny nodded.

"You've been miserable for days because of Draco Malfoy?"

Ginny nodded again.

Zoë took a deep breath, then another. "Are you out of your mind?" she asked, her voice very calm.

"I—" Ginny's breath caught on an unexpected sob. "I don't know."

"Are you sleeping with him?" Zoë asked, in the same calm voice.

She nodded miserably. "Since the summer."

Zoë raised her eyebrows and frowned. She looked for a moment like she was going to yell, but she inhaled deeply again and stared at the curtains. "Are you pregnant?" she asked finally.

"No!" Ginny burst out, then cringed at the loudness of her outburst. "No, I've been taking pregnancy potions. I'm not totally without sense, you know."

Zoë didn't say anything, but her expression spoke volumes.

"Well, I'm not! I never intended it to happen this way, all right?"

"How did it happen?" Zoë asked. "I mean, the last you ever told me, you were still half-falling for that Ravenclaw bloke. Michael whoever. How on earth did you end up in bed with Malfoy?"

Ginny sighed miserably and let her head drop to her knees again. "It's a long story."

"Well," Zoë said, and moved up to settle her own back against Ginny's headboard, so that they were shoulder to shoulder. "Dinner isn't for another hour, so we've got time. And I'd very much like to hear it. Malfoy," she said again. "I just don't...Malfoy."

"All right," Ginny said, and began as she had with Dumbledore and Snape at the beginning of the year—his rescuing her from her boggart, the strange interest Draco had taken in Tom Riddle, his cornering her in the DADA classroom, their first hesitant kiss, all the odd encounters, his appearance at her house over the summer, their clandestine meetings during the school year.

Zoë listened to it all with a small frown, though she seemed less angry than bewildered. Ginny finished by relating the fight they'd had earlier that week.

"How can he think things like that?" she said, some of her earlier anger colouring her voice. "How can he say things like that, and actually believe them? And be so...so..."

"What did you think he'd say?" Zoë asked, and squeezed her hand gently. "I mean, he is who he is. That hasn't changed, has it? Were you expecting him to be Harry?"

"No," Ginny said softly. Which was true...she didn't expect him to be like Harry. She'd never wanted him to be Harry.

She'd wanted him to be Tom.

Ginny let her head drop back to her knees, half-sickened by the thought. What was wrong with her? She didn't want anyone to be like Tom, particularly not the boy she was supposed to like. Although really, Draco wasn't much like him—they shared a sort of impenetrable arrogance and a belief that the world owed them. But for all his conceit, Draco didn't have Tom's need to dominate. Certainly he was selfish, he liked having things his own way and he could be cruel, as she well knew, but he wasn't evil.

"It's actually rather romantic," Zoë said after a moment. "Not the fighting, of course, or calling Hermione names, but the rest of it. Him defying his father and coming to Hogwarts for you."

"He didn't do it for me," Ginny protested. "I mean, I suggested it, but it isn't as though he decided to come here because I'm here or something. I'm sure he would have anyway, even if we hadn't been... I mean, he didn't have anywhere else to go."

"Hmmm," Zoë said thoughtfully. "I suppose you're right. But Colin's lost ten Galleons, and it's too bad I can't tell him. He was sure Malfoy was here to spy on us. He had a bet on with Zach Smith."

"Oh, please," Ginny said. "That had nothing to do with Draco coming here. He's only here because he found out that You-Know-Who is part Muggle and he couldn't bear to follow him." She snorted suddenly. "Oh, God, I didn't even think of that. The only reason Draco isn't a Death Eater is because he's too much of a snob."

Zoë snickered, then covered her mouth with her hand guiltily. Ginny caught her eye and grinned. In a moment they were both convulsed with giggles, hands clapped over their mouths to keep the noise down.

"Oh, Zoë, what am I going to do?" she said, after their laughter had died. "He's a prat, he's a terrible snob, everything he believes in is the exact opposite of what I was raised to think, my father loathes his father, and everyone in Gryffindor knows what Ron's opinion of him is. He's the absolute worst person I could even think of being involved with. But...."

"But?" Zoë prompted.

"But I can't—I can't stand this. I don't know...I don't want it to be over, but I don't know what else to do. I can't just let him say things like that about Hermione, can I? Or about you, or Colin, or anyone else we know who's Muggle born." Ginny picked at her coverlet miserably. "But I miss him so much, and it's so hard...I just don't know."

"It sounds like you really care about him," Zoë said softly.

"I do," she whispered, staring blindly at her curtains. She more than cared...she loved him.

His frustrating superiority when he knew things she didn't, the shy, sweet smile she only ever caught out of the corner of her eye when they were alone, the way he dismissed things he didn't care for with a haughty toss of his head. The long, clean lines of his body, the pale marble sheen of his skin. The way he kissed her, the way he narrowed his attention to her as though she were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Zoë cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Well, of all the people you might have picked, I think he's the worst one. Not that I'm saying he's a terrible person," she said quickly when Ginny raised her head, "because if you do love him he must have some redeeming qualities. But he is a bit of a prat, you have to admit."

"Yes, I know he's a prat," Ginny said grudgingly. "But he isn't like that with me. Usually."

Zoë raised her eyebrows. "You can say that, even after what he did in class today?"

"He only did it because he's angry with me," Ginny said defensively. "And he is under an awful lot of pressure right now—"

"Don't make excuses for him!" Zoë exclaimed. "If he'd done it to Colin or to me, you'd be furious with him, wouldn't you?"

"Probably," Ginny mumbled.

"So don't talk like he's done you some big favour by taking points because of an accident." Zoë shook her head in disgust. "You didn't deserve that."

"I know," Ginny said. "And I'm not trying to make excuses, really. It's just...it's hard, all right? Seeing him in class and not being able to actually talk to him."

"Which is a whole other problem," Zoë pointed out. "He's a teacher. What would Dumbledore say, if he knew Malfoy were sleeping with a student?"

"He'd say that if he knew about it, he'd have to do something, but as long as no one else knows then it's all right," Ginny said, and smiled at Zoë's shocked expression. "Snape found out at the beginning of the year and told on us."

"And what would you have done if he'd said it wasn't all right? If he'd thrown you out of school?"

"I don't know," Ginny muttered. "I hadn't really thought about it."

"Have you thought about anything?" Zoë asked incredulously. "What are you going to do at the end of the school year? What are you going to do when your parents find out? Or Ron? Never mind Colin, or Harry and Hermione, or the rest of your brothers...and you said yourself his father's siding with You-Know-Who. What do all of his friends think of him? And what will they think of you?"

"I don't know," Ginny said, with a glance at her friend. Zoë looked ready to go on at length about all the reasons why Draco was horribly wrong for her. Truth be told, Ginny hadn't given much thought to what would happen when she left Hogwarts and she and Draco were both free.

If they were even still together then. If either of them still wanted to be together, after this.

"Are you planning to decide sometime soon?" Zoë asked. "Because really...we've only got two months of school left. And there's the war, of course, but you won't be at Hogwarts forever."

"I suppose it'd depend on if he ever wants to speak to me again," Ginny said morosely. She heaved a sigh and slumped against her headboard. "If I ever manage to get out of the Tower again to go see him."

Zoë's expression softened. "Well, if it's really important to you, I suppose you'll find a way. You usually do."

"Usually," Ginny agreed, picking at her coverlet. It was important to her...now she just had to find out if it were important to Draco as well.

~*~

A/N: Actinonin is a natural hydroxamic acid antibiotic and a peptide deformylase inhibitor. Apparently it kills plants, and is useful for inhibiting E. coli growth. However, that that actually means, I haven't a clue, since I am not a biochemist. Any biochemists in the crowd want to email me and explain it? It is probably not as acidic as I am claiming. Heck, it's probably not even a liquid. I'm taking vast artistic licenses here. If you are a biochemist and I'm totally out in left field...I'm sorry! I'm an accountant! I don't know these things!