Chapter Three: And he finds a home in me

"For what misfortune sows, he knows my touch will reap

And my winter is giving way to warm as I'm singing him to sleep"

It was his duty as prefect, slash, Head Boy to tell Ginny Weasley to stay in bed or for the love of Merlin to dye her hair black so she wouldn't get caught every night, but Draco couldn't will himself to call after her this time. He couldn't count the number of instances that he had seen her walking two flights down from where he was patrolling or just a glimmer of her red hair in the torchlight. The thing that kept him from giving her triple detention on this night was that her routinely escapades were ravaging his mind.

She never seemed to be going to any predestined place. Her directions were erratic and sometimes she simply went in circles. Maybe she was carrying on a torrid affair…maybe with a teacher! If that was the case then whoever it was was a lot better at keeping hidden then their red-haired honey. But Draco wasn't so sure that this was the reason, because he pretty much knew by now what people looked like after spooning for an hour in the dungeons. And Ginny Weasley just looked tired. And as Draco walked into breakfast the next morning, never having gone after her, he noticed that familiar flash in the sunlight and he saw that her consistent midnight strolls were taking their toll.

Despite the ever present bounce and shine of her hair that had become so ingrained in Draco's head her features were definitely lackluster. Her skin was pale and dull except for a lovely pair of dark circles blooming under her eyes. Her lids were heavy over her owl-like amber eyes and he pondered if that was why she seemed to not see where she was going: while she walked to the Gryffindor table the girl weasel barely picked up her feet and bumped into every possible obstacle on the way. He marveled at her complete lack of awareness and when she finally sat down to eat, wondered if she was going to get a bruise from the way she kept missing her mouth and poking the fork at her face instead.

"What's your secret Weaslette?" Draco muttered so quietly to himself that it sounded more like a small cough. "What are you doing?" Draco asked much louder, turning to Pansy who had just thumped him on the back.

"What?" She looked confused by his sudden irritation.

"Why did you just hit me?" He persisted.

Pansy let out a short crow of laughter and cocked an eyebrow. "You coughed; I was being friendly, calm down Draco."

He really had no idea what she was talking about so instead Draco nodded and turned back to his neglected breakfast.

"3:00am Weasel-like girl has just left the building and is now walking outside on the grounds." Draco whispered into the tip of his wand, which was performing a recording spell. He tiptoed after her shivering from the immediate drop in temperature.

"3:05am Weasel of the species female is walking around the lake."

"3:15am Still walking."

"3:20am Bloody hell when did the lake get so huge! …Walking."

"3:25am The Weasel Princess has finally stopped at the clear other side of the lake and is headed towards the forest."

"3:28am Le Weasel a vu un grand arbre"

"3:30am The Great Comadreja appears to be harboring some sort of secret garden on this side of the lake… hidden by a really big tree near the forest."

"3:31am I knew that I know French, but when did I learn the Spanish word for Weasel?"

"3:32am Oh right when I was learning how to insult the Weasel King in every possible language…ha! Take that Weasley!"

Draco silenced himself for a while in order to watch Ginny do whatever it was she did out here. A small plot of land had been turned over and bordered with stones. In the area were a few bunches of flowers and sprouts. He wasn't a gardener by any means, so maybe everybody handled their plants with such care, perhaps it was obligatory to look at the sprouts as if they were your own children, and just maybe every flower enthusiast there ever was whispered and sang to their plants while they patted the rich brown soil and watered the leaves like they were administering a bath. Or maybe Ginny Weasley was displaying more compassion to a mound of dirt and some weeds than Draco Malfoy had ever experienced in his entire life.

While she kneaded the earth and hummed a lullaby that vaguely registered with Draco he sighed softly and leaned his head against the stiff bark of a tree. Her hair spilled over her shoulders hiding her face from view except for the very tips of her lips, which he could see move ever so slightly during a break in the melody, where she would whisper endearments to the earth that she tended to.

It was almost an ethereal thing: watching something so pure and uncomplicated while the shadowy trees rustled in the cool wind and the smooth dark lake reflected the smooth dark sky just yonder from where Draco sat, breathing in the scent of night and grass. He was so calmed by his surroundings that he felt himself wishing to just lay his head down on the ground and listen to her humming all night. But as soon as he realized what time it was he knew that he needed to get back to the castle and go to sleep or he would look as bad as she did in the mornings.

So without a sound Draco got to his feet and hurried back around the lake, stopping just once to look back on the peaceful scene before continuing onward… which was very fortunate indeed, because if he had lingered any longer he might have been privy to see Ginny Weasley drop her robes and take a chilling dip in the lake.