A/N: it's short. i'm sorry but i couldn't add anymore without going into the next chapter. this is just a little interlude. see you tomorrow.
Life continued as it always had. Malfoy was cruel to Ginny and a biting reply always rolled of her tongue as naturally as breathing. Occasionally they would exchange a glance across the Great Hall and occasionally Hermione held her while she cried for him, but other than that there were no signs of any connection between them.
Hermione kept her word and never said a thing to Ron or Harry about Ginny's 'relationship' with Malfoy. The boys never thought of the events earlier that year as anything other than a source of amusement at Dean's offense. Dean, for his part, never could meet Ginny's eyes again.
Time passed and before long the year was over. During the summer the war began in earnest and the school was closed. No one thought it would be a good idea to have all the wizarding children in Great Britain on one train at the same time and any other form of transportation would have been a logistical nightmare, not to mention the fact that half of the parents had already written saying they would be keeping their children at home. Harry had spent a great deal of time with Dumbledore both alone and with Ron and Hermione present. They were working on something, but Ginny was never told what.
Ginny was allowed to help around headquarters. She took on responsibilities greatly resembling that of a secretary. She kept track of parchments and papers and maps. She kept all the information organized and could probably answer any question you had about what was going on or who was where doing what. She became indispensable at meetings and knew pretty much everything except what Harry, Ron, and Hermione were up to.
She knew, somewhere out there, Draco was probably a death eater. Every time there was a raid or battle she prayed as much for him as she did for her family and friends in the Order. She would look up at the stars at night and wonder where beneath them he was. She would stand in the wind and wonder if it had passed him as well or if it was on its way to him.
It wasn't long before her thorough knowledge of details put her in a position to help the others make decisions. It seemed she had a knack for tactics. Well, she had never lost at chess…
She never said anything to anyone about him because she didn't know anything. She just hoped with every breath that he would send her some sign, some indication of what he was planning before he did it. She never doubted what his intentions were. How could she with what she had seen? She just hoped she could give him help from her end.
Draco joined the death eaters just as his father desired. He worked his way up the ranks until he was in the 'inner circle' and possessed the most authority of anyone his age and more than quite a few older than he. He hated every minute of it. His soul roiled within him whenever he killed. He always said a prayer for the dead, but it did them very little good.
He regretted not talking to Ginny when he had the chance, but he knew if he had he never would have had the strength to remain on this course. No, he had done that which was necessary. He may not have needed to spare her the details and pain, but he certainly had needed to spare himself the depth of connection a confirmed understanding would have brought. It was hard enough to be away from her, to wonder about her, to worry about her, when all he had to go on was hope.
He kept with him at all times a little paperback book. His tallies had long outnumbered the previous owner's. He almost never read anything else. It was as though his sanity was stored within its pages. He prayed she understood where once he had prayed she did not. He had a plan, but it relied upon her trust and cooperation.