[A/N: I own nothing. But I do own the plot of this fic. Again, thanks for the reviews! Wow, good guess, Stella7. Quick Edit was being weird so I couldn't use my normal page breaks.]

.:XII:. No Carbon in Vodka

She was beautiful. She was radiating loveliness he hadn't even dreamed of. Even if she was blood and slime covered and oddly smelt like rotten eggs. But right then and there, Draco couldn't have been happier he had taken her with him all those weeks ago.

But it occurred to him that right now was the moment of truth. The moment she would decide to stay or go. It was all up to her now; she held his fate in her freckled hands. There was a moment of shocked silence. Then –

"Harry," Draco felt his shoulders stiffen. Of course he hadn't actually expected her to put up with him for much longer. But as the one word had brought him down to despair, the next to uplifted him so much he was sure he could fly out of the manor. "I'm sorry."

"Ginny, what –?"

"Stupefy!" The look of horrible realization dawned on Potter's face before he slumped to the floor, quite unconscious. Draco could have sworn on his mother's grave that he heard the dark haired boy's heart break. "Come on,"

Needing no further convincing, Draco took the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. It was usual for dungeons to be quiet at times, but right then it seemed almost morbidly silent. Ginny, obviously unacquainted with the exact directions as to get out of the horrid dungeons, let Draco take charge of their escape.

"We'll have to take the long way out," he said, still mind-boggled at her display of loyalty to him. "The Aurors will most likely be taking the shortest way,"

She nodded mutely in the wand-light and they were on their way.

There was no attempt at conversation in the gloom; all that was set on their minds were as how to get out.

"There are anti-Apparation barriers around the house so we'll have to wait until we—"

"We can Disapparate in the ballroom, I saw Flint Disapparate there." Ginny put in.

"All right."

Well, that definitely made things easier. Now they could take the passage to the entrance hall without worry. Minutes ticked by with their mad scurry of escape. Ginny, at some point, had taken his hand and held it quite relentlessly. It felt as if she had taken hold of heart instead of his hand. Draco was glad to have it, he was sure she would disappear if he didn't hold on tight enough.

Finally, through the muck of the dungeons, they emerged from a side entrance to the entrance hall behind a large statue of a snake. Quickly casting Disillusionment Charm, the tickling sensation barely distracting them, on both of them they set off past the Ministry officials holding up Draco's picture to a few of the guests that stayed behind for questioning. Draco was glad to see Ginny was right when she said Marcus had Disapparated before he could be questioned.

Draco saw who he remembered as Percy Weasley speaking quite curtly to a baffled Millicent. He found himself taking pity on old Mill as Ginny gave his hand a squeeze before he could first. He knew that that particular Weasley was still not speaking to the rest of the clan, but he understood Ginny's uneasiness to see him.

The ballroom was deserted as they entered. All the candles were unlit and the moonlight pouring through the windows was their only source of light for the moment.

"Finite," Draco said, tapping them both on the head. He regretted it as soon as he finished the incantation.

"There they are!"

Without thinking twice, he grabbed her 'round the middle like he had so many times on previous occasions and felt the familiar pull on his navel as he Disapparated with Ginny, their fingers entwined with each other's.

They stood there together for what felt like to Draco hours. But never did he want to let go. He wanted to bask in the moment forever, regardless if she smelt like Stink Pellets. It seemed that Ginny was also very reluctant to leave his embrace as well.

At this point Draco was quite sure he had had one too many hits with the Cruciatus Curse and his head was a little foggy. But not sure enough. Save for the stiff muscles, Draco felt fine, if a little tired. So maybe it was something else...

How much he didn't want to let her go finally dawned on him when Ginny turned around in his arms.

"I should have a shower," she said finally, not meeting his eyes. She still held his hand. "I probably smell like Dragon dung,"

Before he could stop himself, Draco leaned in slightly, he wasn't much taller than she was, and sniffed. Wasn't really that bad. Pulling back and regaining his composure, he made what he hoped was a sour face and looked down at her blushing complexion.

"Yeah, you'd better go," he sneered. Silently scolding himself for his lack of tact, he turned away from her and sat down at the table with his head in his hands. He didn't know it that the time, but that would be his last endeavor to hurt her, because quite frankly, he didn't like the jolt of pain on his part when he saw her hurt. Must be the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse, that Potter really must hate him.

So she chose him. She chose him over the one she (supposedly) loved. It should have raised Draco to the clouds. But he cast away the overflowing happiness inside him to ask why? Why? Why did she refuse her last chance at true happiness? She turned her back on her family and the ones she loved, just for him. There had to be more to it.

A large bang echoed across the formerly silent room. Draco whipped around, wand in his hand.

Draco felt himself relax. It amazed him to see Ginny even had a large assortment of freckles on her revealed shoulders in her small towel. She was bent over Draco's closed trunk, wet hair hanging loosely, obviously trying to find something warm to dry off in. Draco had honestly forgotten about the automatic locks on his trunk and how long he had been just sitting there for.

"Here," he said, removing himself from the chair. Draco tapped the trunk lightly with his wand and it immediately jumped open to reveal an assortment of clothing. Draco always insisted they stayed packed for a quick getaway, partially the reason he hated all those articles on the wall could be a lot of evidence right there if the wrong eyes fell upon it.

Draco pulled from his trunk her skirt and blouse but Ginny merely brushed him aside and pulled out one of his flannel shirts and pulled it over her head, unwrapping the towel from her body when she checked she was fully (or at least partially) covered. Then pulled out a pair of his trousers and slipped them on as well. She looked like a little girl playing dress-up.

She gave him a half smile and plopped down on the moth-eaten mattress, beginning to towel dry her hair. He had to give her points for subtlety. He was reminded of something he raided in his fifth year...

"A slumber party?" he said, plopping down on the mattress next to Ginny. "I can't say I'll be taking part in any hair-braiding but I'm up for a good pillow fight,"

"Not on your life, Draco," The way she said his name gave him an involuntary shiver. Luckily, she was busy drying her hair. He would have suggested a Drying Charm but he much rather liked the way her arms moved and the fresh scent of her hair that wafted to his eager nostrils. "Though I imagine your hair is long enough to braid,"

It wasn't that long. Just a little past his collar and sure it kept getting in his eyes, but it was a whole lot better than slicking it back everyday.

"Really? I thought you reckoned I look rugged,"

"I still do," she answered through her mop of fiery hair. Was that a wink she just granted him? Time to change the subject.

"So why were you so fixed on knowing what day it is?" he asked her when she was finished.

"I wasn't fixed on anything," she said tiredly, the night had obviously worn her out. "I just forgot it's..."

"It's..." he prompted.

"My mum's birthday,"

Ouch. She knew that and she still blew off Potter? This didn't make sense.

"It's alright, I just never missed sending her a card or something when the boys forgot," she added.

"Right," he said, desperately scanned the room for something that might lighten the mood. A-ha! How could he have forgotten? Pulling off his sodden dress robes and throwing them aside, he pulled out a tall bottle of clear liquid with an old label.

"What's that?" she asked curiously as he uncorked the lid and handed her the bottle.

"A little gift from father's drinking cabinet," he replied as she handed him the bottle after her swig, with a peculiar look about her face as if she didn't quite know what to make of it. He had taken it from his father's study, where Potter was conveniently hiding.

"Wait!" she said, her expression quickly drawn to apprehensiveness.

"Hang on," he snapped. "You'll get another in a moment,"

He immediately regretted it as soon as the tasteless liquid met his tongue. He pulled the bottle away from his face and almost gagged.

"Dammit," he grunted. "Veritaserum," Only Lucius Malfoy would be as cynical to replace vodka with Veritaserum; of course, that's what you get when you dip into muggle liquors.

"How much did you take?" she asked.

"Just a few drops," he heard himself say. It was like his tongue was acting on its own accord. "It'll only last the night." That obviously didn't assure her.

"But it's enough to spill our darkest secrets," she returned sourly.

"Well," he said, looking at the bottle. "We've kept each other in the dark long enough." He looked to her to see how she'd take it. Her hair was still wet and the sodden locks made shapeless blotched on the front of his shirt that she was wearing. Her freckles were dancing again.

"What?" Draco was snapped out of his reverie.

"We'll alternate questions," he said, wishing he hadn't looked into her warm brown eyes. "I'll ask one, then you ask one and so on. What do you think?"

"I reckon you planned this but then you wouldn't have taken any yourself so..." she said automatically, not stopping to mull it over. "I guess it's not such a bad idea let's test it first. What's your name?"

"Draco Malfoy," he said without thought. "What's yours?"

"Ginevra Weasley,"

"Alright," he took time to think of a good question. "What color are your knickers?" he found himself asking. Of all the questions and mysteries about her, he had to ask that. Still, a fair question.

"I'm not wearing any," she replied. He watched as her complexion reddened but her eyes stayed determinedly on his own.

"My turn," she gave him a smirk that could have given him a run for his money. "How long do you usually spend in front of the mirror in the mornings?"

She had to ask.

"About an hour," his tongue betrayed him.

"That explains a lot," she laughed, though strangely enough it didn't make Draco want to tear his hair out. Perhaps he was it with too many curses to think straight because he felt oddly obliged to see if the Veritaserum worked when she said she wasn't wearing any knickers.

"Alright," he said challengingly. "Enough child's play, what was that dream about, that time I woke you up?"

That shut her up, though he couldn't say he was all that pleased with himself.

"I was remembering what happened the night of the fire,"

"Oh," But she went on.

"It was so surreal," she said, shivering. Draco pulled her a bit too him to warm her up, a rare considerate move on his part. "All I remember is waking up in a closet. It was really dark and I couldn't move," Draco wondered if she was aware of the tears spilling down her freckled face. "I remembered the last time I was somewhere so closed up,"

"What was it?" he asked before he could help himself.

"It was during the war. I was hit with a spell that I thought was a body-bind spell I was relaxed and I tried to move but I couldn't," She was shaking now. "I could hear them all dying around me and I couldn't move, I couldn't do anything. Then it was quiet. So quiet for so long. I could move but I was trapped. I couldn't breathe. My wand wasn't with me. I reached out a hand and someone screamed. Then someone grabbed my arm and pulled me up. And the last thing I remember was waking up at St. Mungo's,"

Draco sat there holding her in horrified shock. So that's what all the mess was about after the war ended. They thought she was...and they tried to...Well that was enough to give anyone nightmares. It was fortunate that the spell wore off before she was buried alive.

"I'm alright," she said finally, though she stayed in his arms, and he didn't make a move to let her go. "My turn," Oh no. "how exactly did you get those burns on your arms and back,"

He knew this was coming.

"It's from when the Express fell," he sighed. "Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and I stunned the driver and tampered with the engine when we thought everyone had left the train." He gave her a look before he continued; she was still in his arms but he held her closer. She didn't move away. "We were really trying to fake our own deaths to avoid being involved with Lucius' plot, it's better to be dead than to be around at all," he explained. "But then Crabbe came up with this idea to tip the train as a message to Dumbledore. But it ended with Crabbe getting his way. The engine exploded and I got most of the damage. They all Disapparated—"

"Even Blaise?" she inquired.

He nodded.

"But he's your friend!" she exclaimed quite abashed.

"He had to get the driver out of there," She nodded. "Like I was saying, they all left and I was in no state to Disapparate so I put my robes back on and looked for an exit. But then see this freckled hand clinging on to the window, and well, you know what happens next,"

"Yes," she said into his shirt. He was becoming very accustomed to her sitting there with his arms wrapped about her. "We've come along way since then, haven't we?"

Draco didn't say anything. He felt a new emotion conquer his worries. It wasn't what he was feeling just seconds ago while he was holding Ginny; he had already become quite accustomed to that, but something else. It was almost like regret, but not quite. No! Surely it couldn't be. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: the Guilty Draco Malfoy.

It was true; he felt very bad thinking about when he broke her arm and how he tortured her in their school days. Draco tried not to think about it. Instead he basked in her presence in his arms wondering quite happily if things could get any better at that moment. They did.

He couldn't say he was shocked when their lips met for the first time on that snowy night. He merely took it as a pleasant surprise and resumed marveling, while their lips were still becoming further acquainted, at how this wonderful being could make him feel so alive with something as simple as a kiss. That's when he felt it. That spark. It was then he realized it wasn't just a kiss, but a connection. A reaction. When two forces met, a reaction occurs. But he found he didn't care for details at the moment.

The warmth of her fingers through his hair was enough to expel a shuddering moan from him into her lips. He was rewarded with one from her as he slipped an arm under her shirt, feeling the absence of a bra strap on her back, giving him a tremor in that hand. Draco smiled into the kiss as he felt the goose-bumps rise on her back. He was shocked yet again when her hand settled on his –

He broke the kiss and removed her hand from...him. It was going too far, not as far as he wanted to go... But no, he couldn't, she wasn't just a Slytherin girl he could take advantage of. No, she was just tired.

"What?" she asked, it looked like she was willing to go as far as Draco would.

"Let's just call it a night, shall we?" he said, quite surprised with himself.

"Alright," she said, quite abashed. She lay back with him and curled further into the confines of his arms.

And for the first time, Draco found himself drifting to sleep without any trouble.

Morning dawned on the grubby living area of our two heroes some hours later. Draco was in no state to move. He was just too... happy, was the word for it he supposed. He was quite aware of the female sleeping peacefully with her innocent head resting on the most part of his torso. If he could stop time right now he would, and make the moment last forever.

"Is it morning?" he heard her ask.

"Looks like it," he replied.

"Are we still under the effects of the damned vodka?" she yawned.

"I'm not sure," he said, though partially certain the potion had worn off. "Who are you?"

"I am Mary, Queen of Scotts," she announced rolling over and holding her fist in the air. "And who might you be, kind sir?"

"I happen to be Alexander the Great," Good. At least the potion worn off.

She lay back beside him and stared up into the ceiling. Draco found himself missing the warmth of her body and found it harder to brush away the feeling. Perhaps there was just a touch of alcohol in the Veritaserum, anything other than having actual feelings towards the wonderful redhead, besides hate and loathing.

As if reading his mind, Ginny shifted over and gently lay her head on his shoulder, he clenched his hand into a fist as a jolt shot through him from the sensation of her hair coming into contact with his neck. Their fingers were intertwined and he found himself unable to wipe the dopey smile off his face.

"I don't understand," she said after a silence that wasn't altogether awkward as she took his hand in her – small by comparison – own.

"Understand what?"

"Why I can't bring myself to hate you," she said furrowing her brow as if he was a difficult Quidditch play. "Or at least dislike you."

Draco stayed silent, quietly happy with himself. She didn't hate him! She practically liked him. For all he knew, she could love him. What a thought! He dared himself to ask. "Then what do you feel?"

"I'm not quite sure," she said slowly, he found himself savoring every word. "But I think I —"

Draco could have cursed the wizard who invented owl post as the taps repeated until Ginny let go of his hand and opened the window to their left. It was odd; they had already gotten their edition of the Daily Prophet before they left for the ball so they shouldn't be getting any owls until the evening.

As soon as the window had opened, a handsome eagle owl swooped in and landed gracefully on the table, sticking his leg out expectantly. It was his owl Brutus. But he couldn't imagine why he had come back; Draco had set him free months ago.

Taking the letter with the Malfoy crest on the seal (surprise surprise) he broke it and began to read the fluid writing:

Draco and company,

It has come to my attention that you, and your company, have discarded something upon my property. Arrive at Malfoy Manor by sunset today to exchange it for the weapon or we will be forced to rid your assets of this earth. Enclosed is an item that may help identify what you have disposed of.

Regards,

L. Malfoy

P.S.: Perhaps the female majority of your company will find this information more significant.

Finishing, quite perplexed, he handed it to Ginny to see what she could make of it. Her eyes lighting up in horror like that wasn't a good sign. She turned it's envelope upside down and out plopped a mangled set of bloody, horribly familiar spectacles.

What could this mean for our two heroes? Has this message arisen old feeling in Ginny? Will they come up with a plan to save Draco's arch-nemesis? Are they regretting what they shared the previous night? Can they destroy the weapon before Lucius gets his hands on it? Will Ginny regret her choice?

Tune in next time to The Wrath of Ginevra wherever Internet may be available.

And here it is, your moment of Zen.

"I am the king of watermelons and drywall!" – Daryn Jones, The Buzz