Author's Note: Hiya, everybody! So- what did y'all think of book five? What was up with Rowling's new-and-improved Ginny? She's over Harry now, so she has a completely new personality? If a fanfic author had done that, I'd be like: "Let's have a little talk about something we like to call 'character development'." But I loved how she made James into kind of a jackass, so I forgive her. I thought it was the most daring thing she's done thus far.

Anyway, I want to thank all of you who reviewed the last chapter, particularly those of you e-mailed me to nag. Keep nagging, I respond well to it. (It's my Catholic upbringing.) And Suzie: Harlequin owns the rights to several Heyer novels, and they recently reprinted three of my favorites, Devil's Cub, The Nonesuch, and The Grand Sophy. (The Grand Sophy makes my Georgette Heyer top-three list, right behind The Unknown Ajax at number two and Cotillion at number one.) If you haven't read any of these, please check them out.

One more thing: Kori, I apologize for not sending this to you for beta-ing, but I can't find your e-mail address! Could you just e-mail me if you see any huge errors/typos/whatever?

Part Eight:

It was positively sickening, Draco thought irritably, fingering a lock of coppery hair. Being attracted to Ginny Weasley was about as appropriate as mad lust for Filch.

Actually, his father would probably prove more understanding about Filch.

And yet here he was, stretched out on a very uncomfortable antique wrought-iron bed, watching Ginny Weasley sleep. Actually enjoying it. She had slumped forward at some point during the wee hours and her head was currently resting against the curve of his ribcage, her hair spilling along his side and trailing over his arm. It should have been appalling. He paused, desperately hoping to work up some healthy disgust.

No dice.

He sighed, which had the undesirable side effect of waking Ginny. Draco couldn't have dropped the curl he'd been playing with any faster if it had jumped up and bit him.

Ginny sat up with a moan, one freckled hand going up to massage her neck. "Ow...." Slowly, her eyes fluttered open and focused on him. She immediately blushed a furious pink, but managed to speak without stuttering. "Hi, Malfoy," she said. "How's the side?"

"Painful," Draco replied shortly. Damn it, the girl even looked good waking up- temptingly flushed and heavy-eyed. Draco saw this as further proof of the fundamental wrongness of the situation. Even he was not his usual incomparable self immediately after waking.

"Here, lemme see," she muttered, leaning forward to inspect the bandaged area. "It looks a bit better, I reckon. Might not even scar if you keep it clean." She eyed his chin, carefully avoiding eye contact. "Er... you want some breakfast?"

A safe topic, he thought. Thank God. "Hmm. An egg white omelette," Draco said thoughtfully. "Perhaps a bit of ham, thinly sliced. And coffee, of course- no milk, two sugars." He gave a regal little nod.

"Right," Ginny said. "Cornflakes it is."

****

"So..." Ginny chased the last soggy cornflake around the bowl with her spoon. "You're telling me that you didn't even check to see if you could help? You find an unmoving little kid on the floor and your first thought is, 'Hmm, I bet France is nice this time of year'?" She shook her head in disbelief. "I'll bet you get on really well with your father, don't you?"

"Listen, Weasel," Draco said testily, "Put yourself in my shoes. My father's... political sympathies... are not exactly a well-kept secret, and most of the teachers at Hogwarts are, at best, utter halfwits. If Lucius Malfoy's son is found standing over the body of a dead little Hufflepuff, people are fairly likely to jump to the wrong conclusions, and I don't much fancy being whisked off to prison."

Ginny frowned at her spoon. "So? You weren't even sure the kid was dead. There's lots of things that, y'know, look like death with wizards but aren't...." She trailed off, her eyes darkening. "But even if he were," she continued after a moment, "Your father would get you out in matter of days, tops."

Draco rolled his eyes, speaking with exaggerated patience. "Yes, I am well aware of that, Weasel. All the same, something told me that I wouldn't enjoy a few days in Azkaban quite as much as I'd enjoy a holiday in France with my girlfriend, so I voted for France. Of course," he continued sweetly, "If I'd known that you would be joining me, Azkaban might have seemed more attractive."

Ginny wisely chose to ignore the latter half of his statement. "Well, when were you planning on going back?"

"I told you- as soon as Goyle owls to tell me that the situation has been resolved." Draco spoke with more confidence than he actually felt. In truth, it might take days for Goyle to decipher the letter he'd left him- and would probably take days more for him to reply. But while literacy might not be Goyle's strong suit, Draco had spent the past six and a half years drilling discretion and loyalty into his thick skull. Sooner or later, Goyle would write to say that it was safe to go back to Hogwarts, and in the meanwhile he wouldn't breathe a word about Draco's whereabouts. It really hadn't been his all-time greatest plan, he thought ruefully, but he had been under a bit of stress at the time.

And while he was stuck out here, whispered a tiny, gleeful voice, Ginny Weasley would be here, dazzlingly close at hand.

"I could go back," Ginny offered suddenly.

"If you only had a Portkey," Draco agreed pleasantly. "Shame, isn't it?"

"No, I mean I could go back to find out what happened. If you're still under suspicion, I won't tell anyone about, um, us being here. I promise. You can trust me," Ginny said earnestly.

"Like hell," Draco replied, just as earnestly.

"No, Malfoy, I mean it." She pushed her tangled hair off her brow. "Look, you haven't even really broken any school rules yet, did you know? Well, leaving the grounds without permission-"

"Leaving the country without permission, more like," Draco interrupted.

"Well, right, but the school rules don't say anything about where you go after you leave the grounds, do they? Just that you shouldn't leave them. The punishment is the same, right? A detention or two?" She leaned forward, radiating Gryffindor trustworthiness. "If you think about it, I'm the one who'd probably get into trouble. I impersonated another student, and, um, stole a cloak, and, y'know, shot you-"

"And it bloody hurts, too," Draco muttered, shifting on the pile of musty cushions Ginny had shoved behind him to allow him to sit up.

"-Just for, er, kissing me." Ginny was tomato-red now, but continued gamely on. "Look, I promise that I'll go to Hogwarts, find out what happened, and come back and tell you. It should only take a couple of hours, and then we can go back to our normal lives and never talk to each other again." She looked into his eyes. "Please. We can't just stay here forever. We'll kill each other."

Draco tried to think about it logically. He could see plenty of flaws with her argument, but he was also tired, and his side hurt, and there was that pesky little sexual attraction he was fighting. If they could just go back to Hogwarts and pretend the whole thing never happened, maybe his sick little fascination would fade away and he could (thankfully) chalk it up to temporary insanity.

He was just going to have to... trust her. The very thought made him shudder. Well, and threaten her, naturally. "I'm keeping your wand to make sure you come back. And if you ever breathe a word about this," he said, his voice promising that he meant every word, "I swear to you that it will be the last thing you ever say."

Ginny bit her lip, staring at the floor. "I'll promise, if... if you never tell anyone what I said about Harry."

"Damn! And I was just panting to tell all of Slytherin about the little heart-to-heart I had with the Weaselette!" Draco rolled his eyes. "I swear."

"Then so do I." Hesitantly, she offered him a hand to shake. Hardly knowing what he was doing, Draco took it carefully in his own, their pale fingers sliding together. They both stared at their clasped hands for a moment. That was not the right grip for a handshake, Ginny thought idiotically. It occured to her that one of them was seriously confused. She offered up a sincere prayer that it was Malfoy, gave her arm a little shake, and whisked her hand back.

Draco absolutely refused to think about whatever the hell it was that he was doing. He pulled his wand out, summoned the Portkey, handed it over, and then sat back to wait for the popping noise that would signal Ginny's departure.

It wasn't long in coming, and Draco was left to hope that he hadn't just made a very poor decision.

TBC

In the next chapter, Ginny gets to see how Hogwarts has fared in her absence.