Day by day, Draco grew stronger from the food and care provided by Ginny. She slept on the floor by his bed each night in case he needed anything, and Ron grew furious with her one day.

"Ginny, how dare you demean yourself like that, sleeping at his feet as if you were a dog. He's a Malfoy, Ginny, don't forget it, and don't fool yourself into thinking that he has either."

"Hush!" She pleaded with him. "He'll hear you."

"So what," Ron said, raising his voice even louder. "Why would you care what a Deatheater thinks anyways. He tried to kill Dumbledore. What makes you think we're even safe in this house? He got them into Hogwarts, what makes you think we're safe.." His voice trailed off as a pale figure appeared in the doorway, leaning against it for support.

"You're right, you know," he said to Ron. Ginny's face went pale, and Ron's mouth dropped in shock. "I am a deatheater. Or at least, I was. But I'm still marked by it." At this, he roughly pulled up his sleeve and showed them the dark mark tattooed on his skin. Then after a moment, he covered it once again and walked out of the room." Ron and Ginny didn't speak to each other, and after a moment, Ginny went after Draco. She caught up to him halfway down the stairs.

"Where do you think you're going," she demanded as he leaned heavily on the stair railing. He haughtily looked up at her, a trace of the old Malfoy back in his eyes.

"I'm leaving. I don't need your charity or his hatred. I can take care of myself." She glared back at him.

"It's not charity, you idiot. We need as much help as you can get, and when you are better, you'll be able to help us." Fire flashed in his eyes as his temper matched her own.

"And what makes you think I would help you?" She slapped him, hard, leaving a red mark across her pale skin. Shocked at herself, she pulled back for a moment, and then reached out a hand to lead him back to the sofa. With more gentleness then he expected, she firmly pushed him back down on the sofa and pulled a blanket up over him.

"Because I know," she said softly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have hit you." Then he did something that surprised her. He grinned.

"You always did have a fiery temper, Weasley." She sighed and got up to leave. He reached out and grabbed her hand, but not at all roughly, and she sat back down beside him. "Ginny." He said. Nothing more. Then he closed his eyes and fell back to sleep, exhausted by the battle of wills. She smoothed back the black hair from his forehead, the strands returning to their platinum blond color as her fingers ran through them. She lightly ran her fingers over his bruises, and they vanished under her touch. Soon, he looked much more like the Malfoy she remembered from Hogwarts, but still gaunt and emaciated. She rose and went into the kitchen and let him sleep.

Hermione walked into the kitchen a few minutes later to find Ginny with her head down on the kitchen table.

"Ginny, are you alright," she asked, thinking that Ginny was crying. But after a moment she realized that Ginny had fallen asleep. So she shook her awake. "Ginny, you must have been up all night with him. Go get some sleep, he'll be fine for awhile." Ginny nodded drowsily and went upstairs to collapse on her bed.

A few hours later she awoke and rolling over, she realized that there were blond hairs on her pillow. She was startled for a moment before she realized that Malfoy had been sleeping in her bed. She snuggled back against the pillow, feeling oddly content. Suddenly she realized what she was doing. Ginevra Weasley, what in Merlin's name are you thinking? He's a Malfoy. You're a Weasley. They don't mix. He doesn't even like you, he thinks you're a blood traitor.

No he doesn't, she realized. He was a "blood traitor" himself. He had failed to kill Dumbledore, he couldn't do it. He wasn't a killer. He was on the run from both the Ministry and from You-Know-Who. Voldemort, she corrected herself firmly. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself, Hermione often told her. She reminded herself that he had once been Tom Riddle, and she had survived that. It still made her shudder.

She went downstairs to check on Malfoy, and found Harry sitting with him. They were talking in low voices with their heads close together, and Harry was nodding. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but after a moment they sensed her presence. Harry looked him and nodded at her once, then rose to leave them alone. Harry had changed so much in the past months. He seemed years older, and was much more quiet. His own hot temper seemed to have cooled. But now her thoughts turned to Draco. She started internally, realizing that at least in her head, she was calling him by his first name.