Chapter Twenty-One:

(A/N. Man I have been so busy latterly! I'm so sorry! Plus my muse for Song as Old as Rhyme took a hike. Well I'll try to catch up with her during Thanksgiving. Thanks for your patience! Read on!)

Ginny collapsed into one of the couches in the Gryffindor common room, a heavy sigh escaping her rose lips. She frowned as she looked around, wondering where the three most popular Gryffindors were. Lately, they had been treating her just as she had always wanted them too; much to Ginny's confusion, she wasn't particularly happy. Maybe it was their fierce disapproval of her growing companionship with Draco. Although for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what made her test new acceptance into the dream team for a Malfoy. The seat under her moved as someone sat down next to her. She opened one eye and saw it was Colin.

"Hey Colin."

"Hey, Gin. So…I saw you with Malfoy today." He said accusingly. Ginny stiffened as anger flooded her.

"So?"

"He's evil, Ginny." Colin said, Ginny sat up and glared at him fiercely before noticing the worry in his eyes. She sighed and rubbed her temples.

"No one is completely evil. They're like a dirty window that won't let the light in; they just need someone to clean them." Ginny said with a shrug.

"Yeah, but with Malfoy, you'd need a fire hose and a horse-sized soap to clean his window." Colin said and Ginny looked at him in surprise at the show of nerve. Then she glared at him.

"Look, I can handle myself. Leave me alone." She snapped and stormed out of the common room. She stopped a few steps away from the Fat Lady. What had she done? She had just yelled at one of the only people in Gryffindor that tolerated her for more than a minute in defence of Draco Malfoy? She sighed as her head throbbed in confusion. She continued walking and froze as she heard voices up ahead.

"I'm not sure I understood that last part…" One of the voices said. Ginny frowned recognizing her brother's voice immediately.

"Come on, Ron! We went over it several times! You know if you want to be part of this you have to try harder." Hermione's voice followed, laughter making her smooth voice tremble. Ginny frowned and stepped around the corner startling the trio that were obviously heading back to the common room.

"Hello. Where have you lot been? I was looking for you earlier." Ginny said flashing the group a bright smile. The three sixth years exchanged troubled looks.

"Uh…well…" Ron began slowly glancing between his two friends nervously and fiddling with his bag.

"What Ron is trying to say is…er…well…we can't tell you, Gin. Sorry." Harry finished running a hand through his tousled black hair. Ginny's face fell.

"Oh. Well, that's alright then." She said, forcing a cheerful smile on her face. "How about we go play some chess or something?" She suggested. The trio exchanged another look.

"Well, actually…" Harry began avoiding her gaze and focusing on his friends as if for reassurance.

"We can't, Ginny. We have…well…we have stuff to do." Hermione said wringing her hands. Ginny's smile disappeared.

"Can't you tell me what?" She said furious that her voice betrayed her hurt and resentment. The friends looked at each other again.

"No, we can't, Gin." Ron said his voice lacking the regret she wanted –needed-- to hear so desperately. She forced back her anger and pain.

"Okay then. I'm off." She said and stormed away ignoring Hermione calling her back. She couldn't stand it anymore. She ran, her feet pounding on the stones until she found a small alcove. She collapsed inside her breathing ragged as her control evaporated and she dissolved into tears. When she had cried out all her tears she rested her head on the wall and closed her eyes. She would never be part of their group. No matter how much she tried, no matter how much they pretended. They belonged to a different world than her, a world Ginny could never hope to reach. She was alone in this world. Footsteps alerted her to someone's approach. She curled up tighter resting her head between her knees and hoping whoever it was wouldn't see her. The footsteps stopped outside of her alcove.

"Weasley is that you? Virginia?" A silky voice said changing from scornful to concern in an instant. Ginny looked up and met silver eyes that flickered with apprehension.

"Draco?" She sobbed and threw her arms around her neck. He stiffened under the foreign touch before awkwardly patting her back as she shed silent tears onto his shoulder. He shifted them into a more comfortable position and Ginny slowly stopped crying and rested her head on the smooth fabric of Draco's expensive cloak.

"What happened?" His voice was soft yet and yet it rumbled like thunder. It made her shiver slightly, even though she knew the surpressed anger in his voice wasn't directed at her. Ginny decided it was safer for her brother and his friends that she stay silent. Draco tightened his hold on her. "It was Potter and his bloody friends, wasn't it?" He demanded.

"Yes." She whispered softly, needing to tell someone her woes even if it was Draco Malfoy. Then again, what made Draco such a bad person to talk to? Who had told her the silver haired Slytherin was an unfeeling bastard? Ron, Harry and Hermione. Could she still trust them? Would she still trust them?

"I'll kill them." Draco hissed. Ginny pulled away from his shoulder and frowned at him.

"Why do you care anyway? What does a future Death Eater want from a poor Weasley?" She snapped, instantly regretting it as Draco's eyes changed. The face gained the bored, emotionless expression that he always wore in public. She could see that he hadn't absorbed the verbal blow well.

"Right of course. We're back to the insults? Where back to before, is that right? A Malfoy and a sodding Weasley?" He said coldly. She glared at him as she pulled away further.

"Did that ever change?" She retorted and saw his face fill with ice cold rage. He stood up, somehow gracefully even in his fury.

"I guess not, Weasley. So what am I now? Draco Malfoy the Death Eater? Draco Malfoy the Muggle hater? Draco Malfoy the son of Lucius? I thought you were different, Virginia, but you are just like all of your bloody brothers." He growled and stalked away, his black coat swirling around his shoulders as he faded into the darkness. As she stared after him she wondered why out of all the fights she had had with her friends that evening this one hurt the most.

Draco understood why Ginny had said those harsh words. She was simply trying to pick a fight with him. It was a way for her to resolve her problems. Better to lash out at someone when in doubt, in pain, or in shock then to grieve. This time it wasn't just someone, it was him. Why? Because he could take the blows without permanent damage, and he could return them. He could stand the blows unlike her Gryffindor friends. Yes, he understood her reasons but he still raged inside; because understanding and forgiving were two very different things. He flew into his common room and raced up the stairs. Why had he even gone out? As a prefect he was allowed to stay out as late as he wanted, since he could always use the excuse of 'patrolling' if need be. Yet he normally didn't indulge in that privilege, finding that a good night's rest was much more appealing. Tonight, however, he had decided to wander. He threw himself onto his bed and closed the hangings around him with a snap.

"Malfoy, is that you?" A loud grunt said from the other side of the room. Draco took a moment to try and decipher if the grunt had been Crabbe or Goyle's. Finding that he couldn't tell Draco decided on a generic reply.

"Yes it's me you wanker. Who did you think it was Harry bloody Potter?" He growled.

"Sorry, Malfoy. Where did you go?" The owner of the deep, unintelligent voice asked hesitantly.

"Uh, will you bugger off?" Draco snapped, his anger boiling up even more at the annoyance.

"Oh, sorry."

"Bitch." He hissed a long while later glaring at the green canopy above him. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. This is what he got for talking to a Weasley. For trying to befriend a Gryffindor. He had no one to blame but himself. He didn't need her. Didn't care for her in any way. Tomorrow morning he would forget about her. He turned into his pillow and wondered why it pained him so much to think of losing her.