Author's Notes: Terribly, terribly long delay. You've got all of my apologies and then some. Here we go.

Disclaimer: Le franchise de Harry Potter does not belong to me. And seeing as I've just corrupted at least two languages, let's get on with the story.

Analyze This

Ginny stomped her worn-in dragonhide boots on the immense carpet stretched out before her. They had been Charlie's, and she wondered if they would still hold up if she dared to even put a foot in them. Luckily, dragonhide was very resilient material and had passed the test of time admirably.

She shook leftover snow out of her hair and pulled it up into a tight ponytail with hope that it wouldn't dry into a large mess of frizz; the tangles wouldn't be at all pleasant to deal with as it stood. Feeling the warming effect of the castle on her damp clothes, the redhead surveyed the fun going on without her through the partially open doors. She saw Dean gather a huge amount of snow from a pile near him and dump it ruthlessly atop Lark's head. Lark shrieked and began to hop around, while Colin pointed at her and laughed. Ginny allowed her own amusement to leak out, and shook her head. That action got the attention of the photographer (whose instrument was swinging happily around his neck; secure with a Waterproof Charm) and before Ginny realized it, he had aimed three snowballs straight at her.

Mouth agape, Ginny shut the large doors and threw herself backward…right into someone.

"Oh, excuse me!" Ginny said apologetically, turning around with an apologetic smile. It faltered a small amount when recognition set in, but she bolstered it back up to a full one.

"No harm done – I had been looking for you, actually," Professor Martin said amiably.

Ginny dusted her gloved hands off on each other. "I've been out here for a while trying to get the last of the snow before it all melts. I'm surprised that there's any left."

"I can tell that you took advantage of that. Was it any fun?"

No, Ginny thought a tad sarcastically. I just like to frolic in snow because it looks like sugar from far away.

"I did thanks…yeah…" Ginny stood around awkwardly, waiting for the older woman to say something more. After a moment she thumbed her finger in the direction of the Great Hall. "I was going to get tea or cocoa to warm up…do you –"

"Oh, no!" Martin said quickly, ending Ginny's attempt at an invitation. "I'm fine. Actually, I was wondering if you'd come along with me."

The girl looked up. "For a session? Did you send me an owl? I'm sorry I missed it –"

"Don't worry; this is purely impromptu; I thought it might be nice to start up again. If you can't come I'll understand. I didn't give you any notice, after all."

Ginny agreed very much; she might as well have been told that an "impromptu" meeting with a wizarding firing squad was waiting for her. But if he was already waiting, she might as well…

"Is Malfoy there yet?" she asked.

"No, he's not," said Martin; she hurried on when Ginny's face went slack. "I asked him but he slipped away…I thought he might reconsider if he knew you had agreed."

Ginny laughed. "You know as well as I do that Draco Malfoy could care less. As a matter of fact, he'd love to know that I'd been waiting for him for ages in that room while he sat in his common room with his feet up."

With a last drag of her wet boots on the thick carpet to ensure that she wouldn't be tracking water on the floor, started off.

"Tomorrow's Monday; classes are starting up again," Ginny continued as Martin walked beside her. "Why can't we just wait until then? Mondays are on our normal counseling schedule anyway."

Martin thought for a moment and then looked sideways at the girl next to her. "The Hogwarts Express usually brings its pupils back a day, or two at most, before classes resume after holiday, right?"

Ginny nodded although she had been back at the castle for more than two days. Colin, Lark and the rest of the students had arrived the evening before, while the remaining Weasleys at Hogwarts, Harry, and Hermione had returned to Hogwarts four days prior to that – for extra protection.

"It's so that all of you can reorient yourselves inside the castle once more, unpack, and catch up with one another; I've yet to hear a student say that he or she wanted to wait until classes began to speak to their friends. You yourself were just outside having a good time, and you didn't think, 'Hey, I'm going to see them tomorrow in Potions or Charms anyway, so why speak to them now?' did you?"

"No."

"So why wait until a set session to see Mr. Malfoy when you're both currently available, and are free from the stresses of homework? It's not going to be so easy once lessons start up again. This sounds terribly hokey, but do you know that feeling of being utterly at ease when on holiday? Where for as long as you're away, you can do anything; say anything?"

Ginny nodded once more; that feeling was often followed up by the sinking one later on when holiday was over. She liked school – seeing friends were the best part, of course – but she dreaded returning to the feet of essays and obscure projects.

"Well, I think that you should treat this situation in the same way. Seek Draco out instead of avoiding him."

'Screech!' went Ginny's mind as it put on the brakes. She had been mentally agreeing full stop with every word of Professor Martin's sermon until that accusation.

"I'm not avoiding Malfoy any more than he's avoiding me!" Ginny stood in the middle of the corridor, threw her arms up dramatically, and spun around. "If you haven't noticed because this is your first year here and all, Hogwarts is a rather sizable castle. I'm not going to exactly turn around a corner and run smack dab into him."

Her eyes shifted over to the end of the hallway just to make sure.

It was Martin's turn to laugh. "I'm not asking you to let destiny or fate catapult you into him," she said smiling. "I've only recently started believing in things like that, myself. I am asking you to take charge of the situation, sit down with him, and have a real conversation. Had someone taken charge of the Weasley/Malfoy feud years ago, the two of you might have been friends right now."

Ginny leaned onto the wall with a sigh. "Can we not play 'What If?' right now? This is the way things are, and I'm dealing with it to the best of my ability."

"Fine," said Martin. "How have your sessions alone been with him? You've been talking things out, I hope?"

"Sure!" Ginny said quickly, while the invisible devil on her shoulder snickered at the older woman. The only 'real' conversation they'd ever had had been right before Christmas holiday. Mostly they did homework and argued. "You really don't have to worry, you know."

Martin's brow rose. "I wouldn't be doing my job if I weren't. So I'm going to make an executive decision. I want you to see Draco today. It doesn't have to be for long!" she said, seeing Ginny's rising look of disbelief. "I thought you said you weren't avoiding him."

"I am not avoiding Draco Malfoy!" Ginny insisted. "I have no reason to avoid him, other than not wanting to pull my hair out when he opens his mouth to say something obnoxious. But enough about him, how was your holiday?" she asked, resuming their walk, trying not to think of the anxiety she felt at seeing a certain someone again.

Martin's shoulders rose in an elegant shrug. "It was nice. My family is very scattered, you see, so I don't see much of them. However, I've recently been reunited with a few of them and we spent time together."

"I've had my fair share of siblings for the time being," said Ginny.

Martin glanced at the young woman with interest. "How many do you have again?"

"Six," Ginny said, "All brothers."

"That's really quite…"

"Something?" supplied Ginny.

"Exactly." Martin took a breath. "Have you reaped any benefits from the experience?"

The redhead shrugged. "A tougher skin than I might have once had? An appreciation for quiet? A near immunity to testosterone driven rages?"

The older woman chuckled. "All very valuable things."

Ginny nodded, although she was thinking that there was one male's testosterone she wouldn't mind having an immunodeficiency toward…

"Would you say that it's made your dealings with other boys easier?"

Ginny faltered. She frowned at Martin, though not angry. "Is there something you're trying to get at, Professor Martin?"

The pretty woman lifted a dark eyebrow. "You were rather willing to come with me today. Usually I fear that I might need to restrain you."

Ginny bristled a small amount. It wasn't as if she behaved like a savage when the topic of Draco Malfoy came up! The nerve!

"I was coming inside for some cocoa anyway. Would you rather that I had dismissed you?"

"Oh," said the professor, undaunted by the redhead's tone. "I was only wondering. You seemed so happy with your friends in the snow. Might it have been because of your new scarf keeping you warm?"

One of Ginny's hands reached up to touch the material at her neck. She had almost run into a bit of trouble back at the Burrow when her mother had seen it. Ginny had thought of keeping the wonderful gift at the bottom of a sock drawer, and not taking it out until she returned to school. But the image of the soft wool spending all its time in a musty drawer was appalling. So she wore it every chance she could. A wonderful semi-bliss that was having such a nice present (from such a usually foul person) encapsulated her – and it had nothing to do with the specially insulated material.

At first, though, Molly had fretted that Ginny had stolen it.

"I know that very pretty things are hard to resist, Ginny, but going the way of a common criminal won't make you happy in the end, when it truly matters." She had looked at Ginny very suspiciously. "Did you get it off that lay-about Mundungus Fletcher?"

"Of course not," Ginny said. She had been on the verge of saying that the twin's bought it, but her mother wouldn't have fallen for it. Fred and George would have loved to make a huge show out of buying a Geesh scarf for their sister. "It's from…it's from school. From Draco Malfoy…"

Molly paled. "Has it talked to you or anything like that?" she worried, putting a hand on her daughter's forehead. "Have there been any periods of time that you can't remember lately?"

Ginny had scowled and stepped away from her mother's smothering. "No, mum. I haven't been painting the walls of Hogwarts with clothing dye saying, 'Enemies of the Geesh, Beware.' I assure you that I shall not set loose the killer ball of thread on the school. If I do, I'll make sure to tell everyone not to look the needles in the eye."

The matriarch had given Ginny a very stern look. "Watch your tone, young lady! I won't have you laying your sarcasm on me like your father lays those plugs all over the house. The difference is that I am not his mother, but I am yours, and you won't make jokes like that again."

Ginny had mumbled a half-repentant "sorry", feeling very misunderstood; only Harry appreciated her dark humor. And Draco of course…But now he had gotten her into trouble by giving her the stupid scarf. Why hadn't she just shoved it in his face?

'Oh, right,' Ginny had been thinking, 'Because I was too busy shoving my face there.'

She realized that she would have to then tell her mother about Draco getting a gift, too. If not, Molly would continue to speculate about the scarf.

"He was forced to," she'd lied. "It was a mandatory assignment that we exchange gifts before holiday."

"As a goodwill gesture?" asked her mother.

"Exactly."

Although still a bit taken aback Molly had petted Ginny's neck lightly and smiled a little. She then went back to waving her wand at the chopping knives in the kitchen. They sprang to action and proceeded to create neat lines of perfectly round carrot circles. With another wave, she sent them into a steaming pot.

"Well, however disagreeable he may be, he does have nice taste."

Ginny watched the food simmer thinking about the way she had thanked him. "Yes, he does have a nice taste…in clothes!" she amended quickly. But her mother hadn't noticed the slip up at all.

She brought her mind back to the present and back to Martin's question.

"To spare the both of us a lot of time, Professor, I'm going to assume that you know Draco bought this for me."

"You're not one to beat around the bush, are you Miss Weasley?"

Ginny shrugged. "I'm simply curious to know where you plan on taking this. It's a scarf: a practical, impersonal, slightly thoughtful gift at most. Reminiscent of something he might've also given to his grandmother."

"And you think that Mr. Malfoy looks at you in the same light as his grandmother."

'I should hope not!' Ginny shouted inwardly.

Outwardly she kept her composure. "I've been told that I'm very mature for my age."

"I'm sure they said mature; not deceased," Martin replied. "I always make sure to do a bit of research on my clients' backgrounds before they meet with me. It helps me to get the gist of their personalities. Mister Malfoy's grandparents are deceased on both sides."

Ginny skimmed over that last bit of information and thought of what Martin had first said. "You knew things about us already? What did you learn? What did it tell you? Because just reading cold, hard, facts on a lot of parchment doesn't mean much."

"Well I also had a consultation with a few other professors, and the Headmaster."

Ginny swallowed. "And?"

"And," Martin drew out, "They explained to me that the both of you have gone through a lot in the years you've been at school."

There was silence on the part of the redhead.

"Have you…have you ever thought about talking it over with Mr. Malfoy?"

"No," said Ginny succinctly. "And I don't plan to."

"It might be helpful –"

"I'm not broken! I don't need fixing! Least of all, I don't need to talk about the Chamber of Secrets with Draco Malfoy of all people."

"You shouldn't make him the villain, Miss Weasley. I'm sure that he wouldn't appreciate it."

Ginny countenance was sparkling with tension. "He won't feel that way if we bypass the whole topic."

Martin sighed. "If that's the way you want it."

Ginny realized that she had come farther away from the kitchens than intended, but she no longer wanted the extra warmth of a hot drink. Casting surreptitious glances at Professor Martin, and wondering how she could tell the woman that she wanted to sneak away without telling her outright, Ginny said,

"I should get that drink I came for."

Martin seemed suspiciously solemn to Ginny, and the redhead knew that she was being pitied to some degree. "Do you want company? I know I said that I wasn't in for a beverage before, but not all counseling has to take place in that room…"

"Professor; I'm, fine." She began to walk backward in the other direction, leaving the older woman behind. "I'll, er, see Malfoy later, if I can find him, all right?"

"Sure," Martin said, watching the girl leave, knowing that the kitchens weren't in the same direction as Gryffindor Tower.

Denial was truly something.

"Ginny?"

No answer.

"Ginny."

"…"

"Uh, no offense, but this is stupid. If you're trying to play Hide-and-Seek again, it's not going to work this time…I can see your hair coming out from under the blanket…Besides, we played it three times yesterday."

A small section of the scarlet blanket puffed up as Ginny's breath hit it. "I want to hide. But I don't want anyone to find me."

Colin sat down heavily next to his friend, put his arms behind his head and lay back. "How sad."

With mild irritation, Ginny pulled the top of the wool off of her now frazzled hair and stared balefully at her friend. "You wouldn't mock me if you knew why I wanted to disappear forever and never play Exploding Snap or anything else with you ever again."

"I'm not that bad at it, Ginny."

She sighed. "It doesn't really have anything to do with cards." She took the rest of the cover off of her and put her head back as well. "I haven't been keeping up with telling you and Lark about the sessions."

"Don't feel guilty; we haven't really been asking. Aside from the Hogsmeade visit that you two were forced to go on, we didn't think much was happening."

Ginny thought about the exchanging of gifts, the truce they had called, and the non-mistletoe kiss…

"And you two were right – nothing's been going on at all. Until today. Martin wants me to talk about…it…"

Colin shifted in the couch. "It? There are many 'its', Ginny."

"Don't be daft, Colin. How many 'its' do you think relate to counseling, revealing childhood trauma, and a Malfoy, all at once?"

As realization flit across Colin's face, his mouth opened. "Ooh…Okay then…"

Ginny threw the blanket over her head once more. "I can't talk about that with them – you know I can't."

Colin slung a comforting arm around his friend. "Well I don't know about can't, Ginny."

"What d'you mean?" came the muffled response.

"You've gone over it with Harry at least ten times, haven't you? I'm sure it was less traumatizing by the sixth time."

"Seventh."

"This is going to sound ridiculous coming from me, but what are your real objections against telling Malfoy about our first year?"

The blanket came off. "You're right. You do sound ridiculous."

"Ginny, he'll hold it over your head if you let him know that the Chamber of Secrets is a weak spot."

The girl bent over and put her head in her lap. "I don't think he'd hold it against me, necessarily."

Colin was silent for a moment. "Wait, what?"

Ginny understood his confusion. She was defending Draco and accusing him of being heartless all in one breath; but it made sense to her.

There had been an invisible 'link' (for lack of a better word) built between them, and Ginny hoped that Draco would not be so merciless as to push her on the topic of the Chamber when Martin brought it up – which inevitably she would. Mostly, Ginny knew that the Slytherin had a morbid fascination with anything concerning Harry Potter and death. If Ginny were forced into talking about it, he would bypass the minor details of the giant serpent with killer eyes and an insane Dark Lord, and go straight to the part where Ginny was fooled into communicating with darkness itself. All the righteous indignation she had thrown at him over the past few months would seem hypocritical.

How could anyone respect someone such as herself? Especially Draco Malfoy, whom she had called the Dark Lord's lackey on more than once occasion.

"He doesn't care enough about me to hold it against me. You see if we were talking about you, or Hermione, or Harry, then I'd be worried about that. I think Malfoy would laugh; he'd mock me for it. And Colin, there would be nothing worse than him making the whole experience into something miniscule, and thinking that it was a stupid joke."

"That's why you were so angry with Harry for forgetting about it in fourth year?"

Ginny nodded. "To anyone else the Chamber of Secrets may never be anything but a bad prank, but I'll never be able to think of it that way."

Colin frowned. "Well, obviously! I'd think there was something wrong with you if you did."

"But doesn't that leave me at the mercy of people who can?!" Ginny asked edgily.

"Only if you run away from it," he insisted calmly.

Ginny shook her head sadly. "I can't talk about this with him."

The pair sat in silence for a good ten minutes, Colin stroking Ginny's hair while she kept her face down. Then suddenly, Colin's jumped up; accidentally grabbing a fistful of Ginny's hair in his hand.

"Ouch!"

"Oh, sorry!"

He turned frantically to face Ginny, sitting cross-legged on the sofa. He turned her – while she shot him dirty looks – so that she faced him.

"I have an idea that should help you when Martin decides that you and Malfoy talk about the Chamber."

She rubbed her eyes listlessly. "I'm not going to talk about it."

Colin rolled his. "You just spent half an hour telling me that you would."

Red hair swayed back and forth as Ginny shook her head. "No, no, no. I said she wants me to discuss it. I never said that in the event of that situation arising, she'd be able to make me. I'd rather die."

"I think it'd be better for all involved if you just let it out in the open."

Ginny sat quietly in rumination for a minute. "Fine. I will. If Malfoy wants to."

"I don't see how he wouldn't want to discuss this!" Colin replied loudly. "It'd be like getting presents after Christmas. Ginny Weasley's pride on a platter; Ginny Weasley the sacrificial lamb. Rita Skeeter couldn't come up with better rag than that."

The redhead's eyes narrowed dangerously and Colin coughed to cover up his misstep. "Well, no, not rag; Ginny, you know what I mean."

She crossed her arms. "As much as you hear me clear as day. I'm not talking about the Chamber of Secrets with either one of them unless Draco – Malfoy concedes to wanting to hear about it."

Ginny knew that her plan was as feeble as a flobberworm, but she continued to hold out hope that if Draco understood her reluctance, he wouldn't force the subject. Hadn't they come to an understanding about some things?

"Ginny, I can't help but feel that you're being entirely over idealistic about this whole situation. We both know that Malfoy's not a saint – and sinners love nothing more than hearing about each other's tragedies."

Cool eyes turned upon Colin. "So you think I'm a sinner?"

Colin was unfazed; he'd dealt with it before. "In his eyes you'll be nothing but." He shrugged. "I don't think you are, but it wouldn't matter if you were; everyone's committed crimes in the past, Ginny. Not all of them end up as criminals." Instead of that statement reassuring her, Ginny looked even more morose, so he went on. "For example, I stole some candy from a shop near my house once. I hardly think myself worthy of Azkaban."

She sighed heavily and tried to drudge up a grin from the murky depths of her conscience. "I beg to differ. You've got a wickedly criminal way with words, Sir Colin."

"Of course. I've been around you for so many years that you shouldn't expect anything else. To get back on track, though, I'll rephrase my previous statement. In the event that you have no choice but to speak on your first year, I think it would do you some good to have practice. With me."

Ginny laughed a little. "Creevey, you're hardly a Malfoy."

Colin was relentless. "Just try me on."

Another sigh. "All right." Ginny clasped her hands together and looked Colin straight in the eyes. "Hey there, er, Malfoy…I'd like to – well, I have to – talk about some things with you. Things about my first year."

It was as if an invisible Malfoy-veil had been draped over Ginny's best friend. Colin sat up straighter, tilted his head up slightly so that he looked down his nose on Ginny, and inspected his nails.

"If you must," he drawled. Ginny gaped for a full moment before laughing a little and continuing.

"Right. Well, in my first year – your second –"

"Obviously," drawled Colin; Ginny glared.

"In that year I was possessed by Tom Riddle; Lord Voldemort."

"Clever," Colin drawled once more.

Ginny had had enough. "I can't do this! Your face is yours, but the way you're acting…"

"Well what did you expect, Weasley? You tell me that you ventured into the Chamber of Secrets without bringing me along and assume that I'll be civil? Have you had too many Fainting Fancies?"

"Colin!" Ginny shrieked, trying to be angry, but failing. She was about to erupt in laughter.

Colin put his hands down and looked evenly at Ginny. "Is something funny, Weasel?" He looked around. "I don't see your brother anywhere near here, so there shouldn't be anything mildly amusing. Certainly the subject matter we're currently discussing isn't tickling your funny bone. If it is, you're more defective than I thought."

Ginny's eyes watered and she clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh my god…you're too good at this…"

Flittingly, a very Colin-like grin came across the transformed face. He leaned forward and touched his wand to Ginny's temple; briefly, she felt breathless. Before a full minute though, Colin turned around so that his back was to Ginny and pulled his wand in front of him. Ginny only heard mumbled spells, but couldn't make much out

All she knew was that when Colin turned back around, his face was…it was eerily reminiscent of a certain Slytherin seventh year's.

Colin's chin seemed more pointed, which changed his familiar, carefree visage into one that was considerably less happy-go-lucky. His cheekbones were a bit more prominent, his nose…well…daintier, somehow. Maybe more aristocratic. Although Colin's eyes were the same at first glance, Ginny thought them lighter than usual. And lastly, the most perfect detail that Colin had conjured, were the lips: the bottom one fuller than the top, almost femininely so, but the cynical and inherent sensual twist in them was more masculine than anything. Ginny remembered it well.

"So what do you think?" Ginny heard the lips say – er, Ginny heard Colin say.

She tried not to stare at the bottom of his face, and to instead concentrate on the eyes, which were probably the most un-Draco-like feature that Colin's transfigured face had taken on. They were only a few shades away from the proper Malfoy one, but she doubted that even the right color would give them the right…dynamic.

But maybe she was just being picky.

"Colin…" Ginny said, "It's unreal…What did you do? Did Hermione teach you that?"

He nodded. "It's a photographer's trick, you see. Sometimes I'll take a picture of a landscape, or a person, or a scene that looks gorgeous at that moment, but later when I develop it, it's far from spectacular. So what I'll do is get out a piece of clean parchment, put my wand to my temple –"

"Like you did with me?"

"Exactly. And I'll place the image I had in my mind on it. Most times the image is rather close to what I originally had in mind, and I'll know what contrast or dimension I wanted. A lot of the time I'll just retake the picture with hopefully the same setting that was present the first time. But in those times that I can't, it helps to see it clearer."

Ginny was still in a bit of awe. "Sounds sort of like a pensieve."

Colin nodded rapidly once more. "That's where Hermione found the spells; from a book on pensieves. She thought I'd like to know it and helped me get the hang of it."

"But you used it on your face! Something could have gone wrong."

"I combined it with a few Transfiguration spells. If it goes horribly awry I'll go to Pomfrey. Otherwise I'll let it wear off naturally. But what do you think? Is it accurate?"

Ginny found herself trying not to seem uncomfortable. "I told you that it was unreal." Her hand lifted up and traced the finer contours of Colin's new face. The eyebrows were even rather similar. Ginny let her index finger go to her best friend's jawbone and then across to his mouth. It was amazing…

Only the slightly disconcerted look on Colin's face made her draw back.

She cleared her throat. "Yeah; for the most part it's quite close. Naturally, there are some things that aren't the same."

"Like?" asked Colin.

"Well, your eyes aren't identical to Malfoy's. And I can still see that small birthmark you have on the right side of your chin. But…er…the, ah…your mouth is just like his, you know." Colin's eyes narrowed, making Ginny struggle not to fidget. "But not the eyes."

"I didn't think I'd get one-hundred percent precision. Hermione told me, though, that the parts of the duplicated image which were most accurate to my real vision, were a result of the image in my head being ingrained in my memory."

Ginny laughed loudly. "I can definitely say that that theory doesn't pan out. Memory schmemory. In that case, why aren't your eyes just like his? It's 'ingrained' in my memory how he glares at me all the time, so it would follow that those would be more accurate than, er, your – his – lips."

"I dunno, Ginny," said Colin innocently. "Why do you think that it's the other way around then?"

Her hands clenched in her lap. "I'm not sure." She smiled once more. "It could always be that I watch him taunt me all the time, so I recognize the sarcastic tilt to his mouth."

Colin was still watching her with hippogryff-like intensity.

"I'm not an expert on this spell, so I can't really say."

"All right, then," Colin said. "Shall we continue practicing?"

Ginny jumped up from her seat so fast that she almost toppled out of it. "No! That's enough. I reckon I'm ready to handle anything that comes my way."

Colin stood as well. "We haven't done much of anything, though."

Ginny blinked. "I can't do it with you looking like him."

"Why not?"

"It's weird!"

"I thought it might help," Colin piped.

She blinked once more. "Er, no, I can't say it has."

"Ginny," her friend began, "You really shouldn't bottle the anxiety from your first year up…"

"Colin," she said back, "You really shouldn't be looking like Draco Malfoy."

"True…" he agreed. "If I change my face back, though, are you going to stick around?"

Ginny sidestepped him and walked backward to the portrait. "I can't. I've got to go to the loo."

She felt jittery, and tense, and very tired all at the same time. She needed to go for a nice, mind clearing walk through the halls. Or maybe get that drink she wanted. Was it possible for the elves to add a shot of fire whiskey to it?

"There's one upstairs," argued Colin.

"The one that the Room of Requirement makes is nicer."

"That's an awful lot of trouble to go through for a bladder call, Ginny."

She smacked her forehead. "Why are we discussing this?"

"Because for some reason, you know an awful lot about Draco Malfoy's face."

"Well I have been spending a heap of time with him! What did you expect? I obviously know he hasn't got purple hair, twelve ear piercings, and a magical eye."

"I'm talking about details, Ginny. You know the details."

"Colin. You're demented." She reached the Fat Lady. "I've got to go."

The boy walked quickly over to his friend. "All right, I'm sorry! Just help me take this face off!" He poked his wand at his head and muttered various incantations. Nothing happened.

"What did you do?!" Ginny said shrilly.

"I don't know!"

Ginny put her hands up as if in defense from Colin's mishap. "Nope. No. No way. I can't help with this. This is too much for me."

"Ginny!"

But the girl had quickly hopped out of the portrait. Colin followed quick on her heels. "You can't leave me like this!"

Ginny strode purposefully down the hall in pursuit of some semblance of sanity. "That's what Pomfrey's for!"

"She'll ask too many questions!"

"I'm sure you'll make a fine couple, as you both have that in common."

"Not funny, Weasley…"

"Stop pretending to be him!" she shouted.

"I'm not! As you can see," he shouted back, now hitting himself on the head rather sharply with his wand, "I'm trying to be myself again!"

"I won't want to deal with you, either."

"Oh, come on, Ginny!"

"Go to Pomfrey, Colin!"

"She's not as gentle!"

Ginny stopped in her tracks, giving Colin enough time to catch up. "Are you mad?"

"Please…"

She started her marathon walk once more. "I've said my piece. I can say no more."

"She'll massacre me! She'll tell McGonagall! And they'll both be all sarcastic…"

Ginny sped up as they neared a corner.

"I might as well have gone to Pansy Parkinson for T.L.C.!" he belted out after his best friend.

There are some things in nature, in the universe, that are so unexplainable it would give many a talented, learned philosopher a sizable migraine. The constant spinning of the planets and the circumstantial effect on the people that looked up at those heavenly bodies either had nothing to do with the lives of the inhabitants of the earth down below, or everything.

It really all depended on whom one asked.

If one were to ask Professor Trelawney, they would get a firm, inexorable – and probably longwinded – account of how the planets affected the ordinary person. If one were to ask Professor McGonagall, she'd give a disgruntled but diplomatic negative – the rotations of Neptune and Saturn on a Sunday afternoon in winter had nothing to do with anything.

But if one were to ask Ginny Weasley if the claws of cruel fate had scraped into her life, or if coincidence was just rampant, she'd not be able to give any answer whatsoever.

That's because Ginny Weasley would be crying – inwardly of course, but weeping bitter tears all the same.

Because cruel fate, or coincidence, or the rotations of Neptune and Saturn on a Sunday afternoon in winter, had deemed it necessary that she should turn a corner in Hogwarts – while one of her best friends put the phrase, "tender, loving, care" and Pansy Parkinson in the same sentence – and come face to face with one Draco Malfoy.

The three of them stood there for at least five minutes (which can be a long time when experiencing agony, such as Ginny was), just looking at one another. Ginny's face was frozen in a mask of disbelief, unsure whether to blush or blanch, as the seconds ticked away.

"I needed to speak with you," Draco said slowly, his eyes staying glued to hers, only flickering momentarily at Colin's disturbing appearance, and then back to Ginny's. "But now I find myself wishing that I hadn't woken up this morning."

"There's a perfectly good explanation for this," Ginny said, stepping forward.

Colin tilted his artificially pointed chin in the air, looking even more like the older blond. "You don't need to explain anything to him, Ginny."

Draco went to stare incredulously at Colin's audacity when the sound of quick footsteps came closer to them. From even far away, Ginny knew that it was Lark and Dean. They looked at Draco first, then at Ginny, then Colin. Their faces went slack.

"Great Merlin," Dean breathed, his head swiveling between Colin and Draco.

The real Draco Malfoy's eyebrow lifted. "The majority of us seem to have missed something. Care to fill us in Weasley?" Agonized, Ginny held her head in her hands while the questioning looks went around like free food.

"This is horrifying," she croaked.

Draco snorted ungraciously. "You're telling me? I've just found out what I'd look like if the Mediwitch dropped me on my face when I was born."

Ever composed, Lark edged over to Colin and poked his sleeve with her finger, not wanting to touch him too much.

"I'm not defective," said the transfigured sixth-year, miffed that his other best friend looked as if she wanted safe-guarded gloves before touching him.

"Don't be so sure about that, Colin Creepy," said Draco.

Lark ignored him and gestured over to Dean. "Maybe we should go…I think they're going to a session…or something…it's too late for a Halloween party…"

"The Mudblood can think," Draco quipped.

"Shut it!" Dean, Colin, and Ginny shouted simultaneously.

"Why are you all yelling at me? I'm the only one here who has the right to be disgruntled."

"I told you never to say that word around me again!" Ginny told him angrily.

"My present shock has caused a lapse in memory, Weasley."

"I'm so sure," she snapped.

"Well, then, my dear…Since your spice is obviously back, would you please inform me why Creevey is wearing my face?"

"Don't get smart with her!" Colin defended. "We only wanted your face to practice on you realistically!"

Lark had been in the process of tugging Colin and Dean away from the disturbing scene, but after that declaration, her arm when limp. A grin spread across Draco's lips as Ginny shot a death glare at her foolish best friend.

"It's not the way it sounds," she protested, trying to clear the situation up.

Draco tapped his foot to a beat only he heard. "It's not the way it looks, it's not the way it sounds…But, Weasley, if it looks like a duck and sounds like one, it's obviously not a blast-ended skrewt."

"And what does this look and sound like to you?" Ginny asked daringly.

Draco shrugged loosely. "A bit like you wanted to practice at making magic with a Malfoy before making the real sparks fly."

Ginny went red as a ripe tomato.

Lark's eyes grew to twice their normal size.

Colin choked.

"Great…Merlin…" Dean breathed.

"Anyone who's uncomfortable right now, say 'aye'," Lark ordered equably. "Aye."

"Aye."

"Aye."

"Aye!"

The three sixth years and Dean stared malevolently at Draco who had remained silent, looking as if he had stumbled upon nothing more than a picnic ruined by a few ants.

"All right, then," continued the raven-haired girl. "All those in favor of adjourning to…somewhere other than here – and maybe the Hospital Wing for you, Colin – follow me." She smiled plaintively at her friend and beckoned for Ginny to come along. Dean quickly went in step with Lark; Colin followed morosely, and Ginny allowed herself to be shepherded off with the three.

"Where do you think you're going?" Draco asked, grabbing the redhead's arm before she could sneak off successfully.

Ginny's eyes traced up her upper arm where Draco held her, to his face, and she pointed at her friends' retreating backs.

"I said 'aye'. I'm in favor of adjourning to…somewhere other than here…" she informed him miserably.

"But I need to talk to you," he said plainly.

"Let me guess; Martin's orders."

"You're a regular Seer."

"Right; thanks. I'll be going now."

"No, you won't."

Ginny loosed her arm from his grip – later on she reflected that he hadn't been holding on all that tight – and prepared herself for an argument. Looking him dead in the eyes, Ginny opened her mouth to berate him; but her eyes shifted around him and down the hall.

"Well, there she is now," she told the blond.

Draco turned around…and no one was there. However, the sound of Ginny's footsteps scampering off was certainly clear enough.

"Oh, it is a pleasure to see Harry Potter's Wheezy Girl! Especially when she should be with her friends!"

"You know how much I love visiting you all down here, so don't worry about it."

"Miss is too kind!" Dobby cried, wringing his hands animatedly. Ginny could do nothing but grin; her previous feelings of horror taking backseat. It was always nice to come to the kitchens and get such a warm welcome for just being there. This emancipated house elf had always been rather excitable when it came to visits from Harry, and friends of Harry, but over the years he had calmed down. Ginny knew that the only reason for his current state was because Dobby hadn't seen them in so long; Ginny was free to assume that she was the first of the group to see the elf.

"How was your holiday, then?" she asked walking further into the room and pulling a short wooden stool over to the side so that she would not get in the way of the busy elves. She smiled at them all as they passed and some returned the gesture, or gaped back at her.

"It was not special, Miss. Dobby stayed in the castle with other elves who did not visit the homes where their families work. But sometimes, the Headmaster let Dobby bring him tea and refill the lemon drop saucer! Even visit the wizarding town Hogsmeade for new socks!" Dobby half-gasped, half-whispered. "Does Miss know if The Great Harry Potter, his Granger, his Wheezy, and Miss got their socks? Dobby sent them."

Ginny smiled and nodded. "We got them just fine. Actually, I know for a fact that my brother is wearing them right now. They're really warm, you know, and we were out in the snow – well, they still are – so they helped. Thanks for mine, by the way. I loved the design."

One sock was red, green, and white, with stars and trees floating around it; the other was black and had a huge, red heart on it. But from far away, very, very far away, one might not be able to tell the difference.

Dobby blushed and his eyes went large. "Dobby is so happy to give Harry Potter's other Wheezy warmth. Dobby is also happy at the generosity of Miss and her family and friends." (The elf had gotten a brand new set of fresh aprons in three different colors, with random sock colors to sort of match). "Dobby was most moved that in the letter, Miss's family and friends called Dobby friend!" A fat tear leaked out from the corner of his eye and he clutched his dishrag frenetically.

Suddenly he stood ramrod straight. "Miss was in the cold?! Dobby is most ashamed not to have asked what Miss would be wanting to drink. Is Miss wanting hot cocoa or tea? Tea with milk and sugar, or milk or sugar? How many lumps?"

"Er, actually, just hot chocolate would be fine."

Dobby turned quickly on his heel to run and get Ginny's drink, but Ginny told him to slow down; she had nowhere to go, anyway.

From behind her she heard quiet sniggering.

"Shouldn't you be off helping them, Wheezy?"

With nervous anticipation at recognizing the voice, Ginny turned her head to see Draco leaning in the doorway with a huge smirk on his face.

"I never knew that some people were so familiar with the help, Miss Wheezy-Girl."

While Ginny had gotten used to being referred to as 'Wheezy-Girl' by Dobby who needed to differentiate between her and Ron, it was a very different thing to hear it coming out of Draco's lips.

"I'm sure you're very familiar with this elf in particular, though," she settled for saying. His questioning look was answered when Dobby came whizzing back with the chocolate in a large cup and whipped cream wobbling softly on top. Dobby set it down carefully on a table a few feet from Ginny and ushered her to get up and sit in the more comfortable chair that was next to it. He smiled gleefully at his good service and Ginny wondered how he would react when he noticed the person standing in the entrance.

"Master would like the same, Dobby, but with less cream," Draco said in the most authoritative voice he could conjure. Dobby's head snapped up so fast that his long ears wobbled. His eyes went wide for a second, and his hand twitched, as if looking for an iron to run over his fingers. But then, to Ginny's surprise he drew himself up and said,

"Dobby has no master except for the Headmaster Dumbledore. Dobby will get Mister Malfoy's beverage, not because he is Mister Malfoy's servant, but because Dobby must do his job well."

He then looked shiftily at Ginny who gave him an encouraging smile, and he scurried off. Ginny looked back at Draco, expecting to see some kind of abashment, but all she found was him shaking with laughter.

"You should be ashamed of the way you treat him after all these years," Ginny said reproachfully.

Draco laughed more and pulled up another chair to sit across from Ginny. "But isn't it funny how I'm not?"

"He'd give you a little more respect if you gave him something back in return."

"Like socks?" asked Draco. "Those are fine for you to give him. I'm sure they're put to good use when he thinks about you, alone in his elf hole, late at night…but they wouldn't do anything for me."

Ginny nearly gagged. "All right, fine. I'm sorry about running off like I did. There were…pressing matters to attend to."

"Such as coming to the kitchens?"

"Culinary expertise is my life."

Draco shook his head a bit and sat back quietly in his chair. She sighed with relief and watched him as he received his order a few minutes later. Now that he was being silent, Ginny was able to detect a certain amount of unease in his posture. Of course, Draco usually had good carriage; however it was only this tense when he was thinking about something supposedly serious. She remembered with annoyance that one of his "serious" thoughts had once been if Hermione had ever been attacked by something in her hair, and almost chose to remain quiet.

In any case she adopted an unassuming look and began to make small talk.

"I thought you would be the type to order tea."

Calm gray eyes settled on Ginny's face. "It would've been too watery."

She scooped some of the whipped cream off the top with a spoon and put it in her mouth. "Tea at Hogwarts is never watery if the house elves make it. I bet you've just got a sweet tooth. I watched Dobby make it at that counter over there, and he put at least two teaspoons of extra sugar in it."

Draco's tense pose seemed to ease up a bit. "I admit nothing and deny everything."

"What about all of those care parcels from home I always saw you getting when you were younger? I bet they were filled to the brim with motherly love in every chocolately morsel, you brat, you."

"Only if you consider motherly love to be in the form of The Chocolate Tier Bakery. My mother would never stick her hand in a batch of chocolate like some commoner – she rarely even eats any."

Ginny sensed the mischievous undertones in his voice and her smile widened; she tried to cover it with a hand and a speculative pose.

"I see…watching her figure so that the husband will want to continue 'watching her figure' as well?"

"I could do without the image," Draco said dryly, though it was more of an order.

"If you insist…"Ginny said slowly.

"I do."

"Does it have your approval?" she asked next.

Draco glanced at the girl across from him. "It's a little on the flat side; my new house elf makes better. This will just have to do, though."

"What a martyr you are."

"As always," he said flatly, trying not to let Ginny feel too at ease.

Martin had tried to trap him in a corner after catching him walking around the castle, and all but begged him to wait in The Room while she retrieved his "counterpart" – her words not his. However, he wanted to see Ginny again on his own terms, and told Martin that he would wait until the next day to have a nice chat with the Gryffindor.

Besides, he wasn't even ready to face the girl again after weeks of separation. It had been no small task to flush her out of his mind during his stay at the manor, and he was not looking forward to her intrusion on the new resistance he'd developed against her.

At the same time, he was angry that she'd left him with a diminutive peck at the end of term during their gift exchange. Instead, he'd had to satisfy himself with replaying the crystal ball she gave him (that was, he watched it when he dared himself to take it out of the bottom of his deepest drawer). There was a certain amount of pleasure he derived from observing himself being walloped in miniature doll form; Draco was beginning to think that he was imbalanced.

His mother had called him a "distracted oaf" more than once during holiday; on hearing that, Lucius made doubly sure that his son understood in no uncertain terms that he was prohibited from falling victim to sloth and distraction. After all, "distraction – not solely feeble-mindedness, was what really made the stupid, stupid", his father had told him. And Draco was not to allow a wandering mind to encroach upon his studies. Remembering all of his Potions was important so that he could detect poisons in his food with the best of them. Herbology was necessary so that he could undermine dufferheads such as Sprout and Longbottom. Charms a requisite for enchanting unsuspecting fools, and Defense so that he'd be able to research the offensive halves at a later time.

It was all a lot of work and after less than a week Draco had triumphed at filtering dreams of Ginny (day and night) out of his subconscious.

Now he was back at Hogwarts.

Goody.

"How are your parents?"

Draco looked up. "Don't worry, Lucius is still breathing."

Ginny sighed. "A girl can dream, can't she?"

"Sure," said Draco. He remembered Martin saying something about Ginny being outside, 'playing with friends'. "How was your romp in the snow?"

Ginny smiled at him again and Draco felt himself warm up. It was just the hot chocolate. It always did that.

"Jolly," she said dryly. "I'm glad that I came back here a while before classes started up again; all the snow's melted back home."

"About that – I heard that you've been back since last week. Why?"

Ginny looked away from him and shrugged. "It was just more convenient this year."

His eyes narrowed. "You mean for Potter." Ginny wasn't able to come up with an answer right away, so Draco knew that was his answer. It was easy for him to forget when it was just the two of them, that the sixth year was connected to Potter and Dumbledore, and all of those other figures. It was probably best just to forget, most of the time.

So uncharacteristically letting her off the hook he said flippantly, "Want to talk about the snow again, Weasley?"

Ginny looked into her cup with intense interest. "Yes please." At length she chanced another look at him. "Did you have fun in it too?"

Draco smirked. "Do I look like the type to play in the snow? Well, unless it's to throw some at someone…I did have fun doing that to the house elves when I was younger. See, they'd have to go out and melt it before it got to high, and I'd aim it at their ears. If you think getting snow in human ears it bad, imagine it when they're three times that size."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Woot."

"Well you asked."

"I didn't think that you could corrupt snow into projectiles of doom against defenseless creatures."

"Elves aren't defenseless, and I'd like to see how Granger would take that if you put that notion into her big bushy head. As a matter of fact, an elf made my bathwater scalding hot one time. Had I not tested it beforehand I probably would have been sent to Mungo's for treatment."

Ginny was unsympathetic, but a bit suspicious. "I don't think you left it at that."

A growing feeling of unease settled around Draco. In truth, he hadn't left the elf unpunished, but for some reason he didn't want Ginny to know it.

"You already know the answer."

"I want to hear you say it."

"You want to hear what I did to it?" he asked. "Doesn't that make you just as demented? If that's what turns you on…"

"You made it get in the water didn't you," Ginny accused. She had put her cup down. It was still half full and he wondered if it was getting cold. Probably not. There were charms against that type of thing.

Draco paused and looked at Ginny evenly. "It was that or ironing fingers."

"I think the latter would have been better!"

"It wouldn't have been equal, though. If someone chops your arm off, you don't give them a paper cut and be done with it."

Ginny flushed indignantly. "It's not like you were burned – you hadn't gotten in the water! You knew it wasn't right to do something like that."

Draco shook his head slowly and leaned forward. "Don't make me out to be something I'm not. It's childish."

"I thought I told you not to come back here an arsehole."

"And I listened to you; I haven't returned any different than when I left. The distance has just made you remember that I'm the person you kissed under mistletoe, not whomever you thought you molded me into." Ginny went red and Draco continued. "I was half afraid that I'd have to beat you away with a stick when you next saw me."

"Don't worry about that at all," Ginny said quietly staring at her cup on the table.

The blond continued to look at her and she could feel his eyes on her face. "It's inevitable that you're not going to like me most of time when you learn more about me during these oh-so-wonderful sessions. But before you go running back to your friends to tell them just what an awful monster Draco Malfoy is, remember that he's the one whose scarf you haven't taken off for one second, even though it's boiling inside the kitchens." She didn't say anything and his frustration began to mount. "Or you can always give it back."

Ginny turned her head to him with a taut face. "I'm not going to, you know. I don't give gifts back." Her gaze returned to the cup. "And my friends already know you're a monster." Draco was about to take it the wrong way until he saw that her posture had somewhat relaxed.

"And I'm not going to tell them I was in the kitchens with you."

"I've got the picture."

"Good…Besides, I didn't kiss you under any mistletoe."

"Right, right – the miscalculation."

"It won't happen again," Ginny said swiftly.

Draco's brow rose. "The miscalculation or the kiss?"

Her cheeks turned a bit pink. "Take a guess, idiot."

He opened his mouth to reply when the door to the kitchens swung open loudly to reveal none other than Professor Martin.

"What a coincidence!" Draco said with mock cheer.

Martin looked down at him, undaunted by his tone and nodded. A house elf other than Dobby scampered to their table and asked for Martin's order. She gave it, took yet another chair that was sitting around, and pulled it up the table.

"It seems that you found him like I said you would, doesn't it Ginny?" she asked.

The girl gave her a long-suffering look. "I didn't go looking for him. And it's a sad thing that he came down here; he's in prat mode."

"Still at odds I see," said Martin.

Suddenly, a loud crack! sounded and a round silver tray was sitting in the middle of the table. On it were two refilled mugs of hot chocolate (their old ones had vanished), and a smaller cup with steaming chamomile tea, and what smelled like honey. Ginny was distantly reminded of the incense in Trelawney's room and shook the image away.

"No, nothing like that; Malfoy has simply been telling me horror stories from his childhood. We're bonding."

The blond kept his mouth shut despite the fact that Ginny was trying to 'get his goat' (he'd never been especially fond of that expression – what the hell would a Malfoy be doing with a bloody farm animal?). His strange relief that she wasn't too put off by his house elf story was acute. He didn't care if she liked him, exactly, but he wouldn't want her to think him evil.

"It's probably not as simple as all that," Martin said dryly. "But I won't force you to tell me; I want you two to be forthcoming with anything you have to say. If I make you, you'll only hold more resentment which is obviously not very productive."

Draco rolled his eyes while looking down at his cup but remained silent.

"And I have to say that I'm very pleased with the steps you two have taken to create a healthier relationship between your houses and families; exchanging gifts was very thoughtful on both your parts."

Ginny cast a cursory glance at Draco; he caught it from the corner of his eye (with mute satisfaction) but gave no indication that he noticed her ogling. Yes, he surmised, she was ogling him.

"On the same note of my satisfaction at your progression, I'm glad that you brought up the topic of Draco sharing some of his thoughts, or memories, or whatever they were with you. You see, I had an idea a few minutes ago, and I came down here to think it out where I would be afforded extra privacy."

A cacophony of bangs and clangs lit into the air as a multitude of pots fell of a shelf somewhere behind them.

"Yes indeed," said Draco. "This quiet is almost surreal."

Ginny gulped down some of her drink to cover her smile. Martin ignored both of them.

"I believe that Mr. Malfoy has launched the exercise, Miss Weasley; so it is your turn. What do you believe is the worst thing that you've ever done to someone?"

Draco snickered lowly. "The worst thing that Miss Wheezy here has done was probably step on a glowworm in the grass. I'm sure that she stopped herself before actually committing the crime, or else the trauma from such deed might have incapacitated her until now."

"Ha ha," Ginny said without much feeling. She didn't seem very keen on participating or speaking in general all of a sudden, and Draco wondered why. He would have preferred not to do some nut-job task, but Martin was obviously getting very comfortable and didn't plan on leaving until they bared their souls. There was no point in sulking about it.

Ginny looked contemplative and placed her cup on a saucer back on the silver tray.

"Stalling for time?" Draco asked her, smirking. She ignored him and sat back in her chair, trying to get relaxed. "Out with it!"

"Shut it," Ginny demanded, earthy eyes snapping onto his.

Draco's smirk only widened. "I didn't take half the time you are in revealing my dark side," he said matter-of-factly.

"That's because you've got no shame," Ginny informed him. "And what else would you reveal? The pink and fuzzy side?"

"Never," said the blond firmly. "I shudder to think how that would clash with my complexion."

"It can't look any worse on you than complacency," she muttered.

"That's not a color, Weasley," Draco refuted, enjoying the show of Ginny's fists balling up in her lap. "And if it were, it'd be some shade of blue, maybe even green; and we all know that I look darling in green."

"You know, I really feel my up-chuck reflexes contracting."

Draco made a disgusted face and shifted away from Ginny. "Use the bin if you plan on being sick all over the room. Don't be uncouth."

"I didn't mean I was going to spew on you, Malfoy; I meant the reflex wherein my fist comes up and chucks you in the face…maybe the stomach. Anywhere it'll hurt the most."

"Could you be any more vulgar?" Draco asked. Ginny was about to retort when he looked wickedly at Martin who had a frown on her face. "And stop trying to change the subject; I'm really trying to learn more about you, but I can't do that if you're not going to be open with me."

Ginny watched Professor Martin straighten up in her seat and nod slowly in agreement. The girl turned an impossible shade of red. She thought inwardly about Colin's decree that it would be better for all to discuss her first year, but in the end wasn't able to follow through.

"Please do go on, Miss Weasley."

The redhead's mouth tightened noticeably and she looked away from both the occupants in the room with obvious unease.

"When I was younger I made Fred break his leg – Fred is one of my older twin brothers; the other is George. They, erm, graduated a few years ago," she told Martin, in the event that the professor was ignorant of who the twins were.

But Martin nodded and gave a small smile. "I've heard of them – they own a shop in Hogsmeade?"

Ginny nodded.

"How did you break – Fred's, was it? – Fred's leg?"

Ginny sighed audibly and shifted for a second. "Fred and George are huge pranksters, and they loved when I'd try to help them with their inventions. But a lot of the time they wouldn't let me; I suppose I was getting in their way. Once, I was upset that they were excluding me, and so I crept into the linen closet at the head of the stairs on the second floor and waited until they came out of their room – I was just going to scare them, you know; to show them I was good at surprises, too. When the time came, Fred had been running out of his room all excited – he'd most likely created a new monster with my mother's stash of potions and cooking ingredients – and so he wasn't on his guard like he usually was. When I jumped out of the closet and, er, 'Boo-d!' at him, it really took him by surprise and he missed the top step and fell down the rest of them."

"Wow…" Martin said eyes inquisitive but warm. "How was he? You must have felt guilty; I know I would have."

"Oh, I did," Ginny clarified. "Right up until my mother brought him back from St. Mungo's. Fred went back up the top of the stairs and told me to do it again. He said there was a point when he had 'a wicked slide down the fourth stair from the top'. Then George queued up behind him and inquired as to whether I could be a bratty, dangerously impetuous younger sister once more and give him a bit of a shove down the landing as well. For purely thrill seeking purposes, they said."

To Ginny's surprise Martin laughed. "I'd love to meet those two sometime. Had I accidentally caused such a mishap, my sister would never be so quick to forgive me. She'd claim that she had seen it happening but chose to let me continue with my childish whim – I would have been punished later anyway; my parents always favored her."

"I can relate," Ginny said to the woman, calmer than she had been before the story, but still fidgety. Martin pretended not to notice Ginny's obvious discomfort, but Draco was not as discreet. He stared openly at Ginny with a frown on his lips.

"So that's your story?" he queried, voice seeming to engulf the now silent area. Ginny's eyes locked onto his.

"Sorry it wasn't more entertaining. Should I have chosen a gore-filled story with protruding bones, pale corpses lying on the ground, blood, slime, and muck?"

"That would certainly have been more accurate," he prodded.

Ginny eyes turned into turned to ice, which gave them startling clarity. And they were saying 'Back off or else.' Draco took no heed of the warning. How would it be fair for her to judge him based on a stupid prank when he was younger, when she had done something much more dangerous?

"Maybe it would have been. But you don't know a damned thing about it, so you should keep your mouth shut."

"Miss Weasley…" warned Martin.

"This session is over," Ginny said with finality. She quickly uncurled her legs out from under her and stood up; limbs numb from the position and went for the door. Draco leapt up and stood in front of her, ignoring the disapproval written all over his counselor's face.

"I'm sick of you walking away at the first sign of a nasty spat. It's disgusting and cowardly –"

"You've done the same thing, Draco Malfoy!" Ginny shouted furiously. "So move your pasty –"

"I vote that we discuss your issues for once!"

"Not with you!" Ginny said in such a voice that was neither whisper nor full-throated bellow. Was she not making it clear enough for him that this topic was out-of-bounds? What was he on that day? "Never with you. So get out of my way."

"Draco," said Martin, watching the scene unravel with a remote feeling of dread. "Let her be; if she's not ready to –"

"Am I ever ready when she wants to have it out with me?! We can tease and taunt each other and she can think the worst of me, but when something comes up that hints at her indoctrination to the dark side, she wants to let it lie? No! She's just as evil as she thinks I am, and not any better –"

"Don't you think I know that?"

"Then say it!"

"Mister Malfoy!"

"I've nothing to prove to you."

"Oh, really? Then what happened? Go on and pull the skeletons out of the Chamber."

Ginny's mouth shut so quickly that she bit the inside of her lip. She stared at Draco with unconcealed contempt and betrayal. The blond momentarily considered revoking his decree at that last look on her face; but Ginny's eyes hardened in challenge and his pride prevented him from doing anything but crossing his arms and standing resolutely in front of her.

Ginny swept any strands of hair out of her face that obstructed the sidelong glance she cast at Professor Martin, daring the woman to feel pity for her. What did pity do but take up the space of real emotions anyway? And she was the one who had prompted the whole discussion in the first place.

"I made the acquaintance of Tom Marvolo Riddle in my first year. I was curious about Hogwarts and all the secrets it held, especially after hearing about my brother's first year with a clever Muggleborn witch and the famous Harry Potter. But I had yet to make any real friends of my own, and had too much Weasley pride to ask any of my brothers to help me learn my way around.

"Then I discovered Tom amongst my frail, bedraggled books and thought, 'Who'd be better for the job than an older boy – a prefect, and a handsome boy who seemed to know a lot about Hogwarts' older secrets, but not its current inhabitants? We could trade information.

"So he showed me around. I didn't remember a lot of the nights we went exploring, and was only left with my rumpled school robes from the day before as evidence that I had done anything at all. Tom made sure to tell me that we'd always had fun – so much so that I was too tired to change into proper pajamas that my mother made for me. All I had strength for was falling dead asleep on top of the covers. And even that was okay until the chicken feathers and blood…"

"Ginny, please –"

"I'm telling the story of my darkest days, Professor. Don't worry; it's good to bleed this out, isn't it?" she asked in such a cold voice, staring straight at Draco, that Martin fell silent. "Anyway, I almost killed one of my best friends, one of my brother's, another brother's girlfriend, Harry Potter…"

"And a ghastly cat," Draco added quietly, making it clear who he valued more. Ginny watched him, not amused, eyes like coffee colored marbles.

"Exactly," said Ginny.

He met her gaze unaffected. "And…it wasn't your fault."

"You don't need to explain that to me. It was your father's."

Draco skin flushed embarrassingly with shame: he was shameful that he cared enough to feel sick about what she had experienced, and somewhat apologetic that he had just made her relive it in such a raw fashion. But she didn't understand his side.

"I thank you for the input, though," she finished.

Draco searched for the right words to say and was dismayed at the fact that there didn't seem to be any. With a rush of anger and frustration he suddenly thought Ginny very stupid for not understanding why Martin had wanted to do the exercise. It wasn't to humiliate her.

"I'm only trying to show you that you're no better than I am," he said.

Ginny smiled scornfully. The image of a beautiful woman, Draco discovered, was found in fury. "I'm better than any disgusting, shit-faced, cold-blooded, Slytherin who worships the ground that Tom slides along."

Draco felt the familiar pulse of the vein in his neck working steadily. Cold-blooded was the perfect description. Draco felt as if someone had put a Freezing Charm on him.

"I'm not Tom Riddle."

"No you're not," Ginny said, nodding. "He was a better friend than you could ever be."

"Well, you know how pureblood competition is. If I were to lose to anyone, why not to the most supreme of them all?" he said quietly, wanting to negate Ginny's bitter statement, but only making the situation worse.

Ginny's blinked a few times. "I'm sorry you think so." She pushed past Draco who was slow to stop her, but tried to call her back all the same.

"You always leave it like this."

She shook her head and he watched her hair sway to each side. "I never do. I always come back every time, and that's why I always get punished."

She let the door shut behind her.

Draco wondered, as he left Martin sitting mutely at the table ten minutes later and saw Ginny's beautiful scarf hanging on the knob outside the door, if they'd ever stop arguing.

Of course he tried to make those thoughts as detached from any genuine emotion or care, which made it easier for him see the answer: if they did, it wouldn't be because Ginny fucked it up.

The end of another one, sorry again it took so long. This is probably a common thought you've all been having, and rutupatel, I hope this answers your review. I'd love to be able to make the chapters shorter and have faster updates, but the chapters sort of decide themselves on length. I know that sounds like I'm trying to dodge the fact that I update like a dying turtle, but I find that I like where the chapters end better when they're longer. I'll really try and be faster though.

I'd like to write individual replies back to every review, but I want to get this chapter out right now. Next chapter there will be, for now, thanks very, very, very much to:

seekerpeeker, dweeb, shelly2, toastsnatcher, Dweeb, rutupatel, Isadora, FickleFickleMuse, knight-whosays-ni, xxbabysparklesxx, pamie884, coldflamez, seventy-two, Moonlight Princess, montequilladecacahuate, tomatohole, Holly Mariano, LovingFanfics, Lirie Halliwell. A humongous thank you to you all.

-Femme