It had been three weeks and no one had seen or heard of Draco Malfoy. The Order believed him to be on a mission somewhere for the death eaters and was looking for him diligently. That is, at least, until Ginevra freed Thomas Crammer and they learned that the death eaters had no idea where he was either. According to Crammer, he had sent in a message saying he was on the trail of something important and should be left alone so that he could pursue it further. No one had the slightest idea what it was he could have come across, but they double and triple checked all of their security measures and perked up the watches.

Thomas Crammer was actually the third Ginevra had freed since her last encounter with Draco. The number of open battles was increasing rapidly and apparently eliminating her was a standing order and promised glory to whomever accomplished it. She found this very flattering, and actually quite helpful. In the beginning it had been pulling teeth to get someone to follow her far enough. Now it was much easier. Of course, it did increase the risk, but she was no more concerned with that than she had been.

After her talk with Snape she had managed to resume a relatively normal state of mind. She no longer thought of Draco every waking moment. She did, however, think of him whenever things slowed down and she could still hear his roar and see his eyes whenever she closed hers. She thought quite a bit about what Snape had said and then decided it was best not to think about it at all, except for his last statement. When she did sit down and contemplate the Malfoy heir she ran everything she knew about him threw the lens of "when he does…we will have found your match." She thought about the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, the way his eyes were always sharp, even when he was confused. She thought about the way he took command so easily in any situation and how he had always been able to read people remarkably well. She thought about how he was always watching, always aware of his surroundings and how sharp his reflexes were. If what Snape had said about her was true, what he had said about Malfoy being her match was equally so. She had no doubt that the classic battle for supremacy, the staring contest, would end in a draw between them. No, actually, she did have a doubt, she wasn't entirely sure she would not submit. She had come to admire him.

If he had come with her the first time they had met like everyone else she seriously doubted she would have the respect for him she did. He was battling for his beliefs. He was standing for what he believed in and was testing it himself. He would not take anyone else's word for what was right and wrong, not anymore. If he came over now she would know it was out of true conviction that would never waiver. You do not resist something that strongly to finally accept it weakly.

Draco, for his part, had needed time to think, time to lay everything out on the table and examine it at length, time to figure things out. He had written that note to buy himself that time. He ran through almost every memory he had of his father, almost every conversation he had ever had with the Dark Lord, almost every time he had ever seen Dumbledore, and every time he had ever seen Ginevra. He reexamined everything he knew about Potter and his various adventures. He brought to mind occasions when he had seen muggles and all the things he knew about Granger and other muggle-borns. He compared the death eaters he knew to the Order members he knew. He compared what he knew about the Weasley family with what he knew about his family and those of the other Slytherins. He ran over everything twice and went back through it all again.

Whenever he got frustrated and was about to give up in despair he would remember they way she had stood with her face to the sky. It always came back to her eyes, though, those beautiful, haunting, deep, piercing eyes of hers. Finally he reached a conclusion.

Christmas and the new year had come and gone. It was now late February and a heavy snow cover lay across the country. Spirits were low and feet were dragging despite the increased opposition. Fortunately the death eaters didn't seem to faring any better than they were.

The return of Harry, Ron, and Hermione picked things up a bit, though. For one, their presence had always meant a full scale battle in the past so it was important that everyone be awake and prepared. They were saying they had one more trip to make before they could explain themselves and the increased activity and desperation of the death eaters was almost suredly due to their occupations.

As expected the battle came. It took place in Hogsmeade, this time, with everyone running in and out of alleys and shops making use of the ample cover. It would be a miracle if anything was standing when it was over.

Ginevra was running down an alley hoping to get behind Madame Rosemerta's and take a new angle at a group of death eater's defending their position in Honeyduke's. It had started snowing again and she was grateful, it meant a higher level of invisibility. She didn't care that it meant the same to the enemy; she preferred to hunt by sound as most found it very difficult.

She stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the alley, letting her wand arm fall limp at her side when she saw the man standing at the end, waiting for her. He smirked when he saw her. She met his eyes and almost immediately mimicked him. Without any other communication she sprinted toward him and around the corner. He was at her side when she reached Rosemerta's.

She turned to face him. He nodded. Together they went out and claimed Honeyduke's.

A/N sorry for the lack of dialogue, I simply couldn't find an appropriate place to add any.