On this particular night they had planned to meet same time, same place as usual. A breeze blew past the shining globe causing the globe to swing to and fro, a creak escaping iron hinges. It's gaze was drawn downward to the familiar young man with pale blond hair. The man was shifting from side to side. He wore a slick black jacket, fitting him just right. An strand of hair fell in his face, and he brushed it out of the way, his sleeve revealed an expensive gold watch wrapped around his left wrist. He checked the time, and it seemed that Miss Weasley was five minutes late.

He bit his lip in annoyance, but he continued to wait. Sometimes these things happen. Sometimes they run into familiar people, or get unexpected visitors. It wouldn't be much longer now that she would be here, walking beside him to the front door, smirking all the way. It wouldn't be much longer until they were safely inside, their silhouettes framed by the glow of the fire. Soon he would count the freckles that dusted her face, and trace the outline of her lips. He sighed heavily and glanced at his watch again. He was getting impatient now, even though it had only been exactly twenty-seven seconds since he last checked the time.

Any time now, she would run in out of breath, apologize and he would ask no more about it. He would rid her of her pesky clothes and she would be his. All of these things would have happened any moment, if it wasn't for the now burning sensation in his left forearm. He pulled up his sleeve and clutched the pained tattoo of a skull and serpent. Not now, he thought, I'm desperate for her now! He closed his eyes in distress and affliction. He grumbled to himself and rolled his eyes.

Draco walked a bit to make sure he was hidden, and apparated to the meeting spot. The lamp, or course witnessed his grief and snickered to itself. Not because of the blond, but because of the redhead that briskly walked into view a few minutes after the loud crack occurred, which signaled Draco's departure. Ginny grabbed the lamp's post, out of breath, steam escaping her lips as she exhaled. The lamp knew what she didn't. It knew why Draco was nowhere to be found, and it knew why after ten minutes of waiting, the perturbed Ginevra had gone home, lonely.

When she arrived at her flat, she tossed her wand on the table and grabbed a quill and parchment. Being as frustrated as she was, it was hard to blame her for the intense scribble she called handwriting.

You.

I apologize for not being there on time, but you could have at least waited a bit longer, I was only ten or so minutes late! It happened before! My father rang me on the telephone and I- well of course you don't care but nevertheless, I want an apology from you first thing! By the way, don't send your usual owl, he keeps snipping at my nose and it's quite annoying.

Me.

With that, she strode over to her owl Tipsy (After sitting a while it always started leaning) and secured the note to him. She opened the nearest window and motioned for the owl to fly away. Tipsy tilted his head.

"You know who!" she shouted.

He flew away within moments, never second-guessing her again. She closed the window, regretting letting a cold wind to come in. She made her way to her room and changed into her pajamas. Now free of her constricting clothes, she hopped onto the couch, grabbed her wand, and lit a fire. Even though what usually happened didn't, she took a deep breath and let go. The fire released the stress she was keeping the entire evening, and she simply relaxed. She got herself a cup of hot chocolate, the mug filled to the brim with marshmallows, and started to dream. She closed her eyes and imagined she was in a hot tub, and Draco was giving her a massage. She opened eyes and giggled at herself. She could only be inspired of such things when Draco was around. Any other time seemed just silly.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. It must be her drunk neighbor again who lost herself out. To think, Ginny smirked as she hid her wand in her pocket, she was an expert at picking locks. She unlocked her door, and opened the door lazily.

"Izzy, I can't believe you-" her smiled was wiped from her face as it was replaced with bewilderment. She saw a familiar man with a hat, some sunglasses, and a trademark leather jacket. It was hard not to figure out who it was.

"For god's sake, what the hell are you doing here?!" she pulled the 'disguised' man inside and slammed the door. "Are you stupid? Did you drink a fuddy duddy potion or something?" She placed a hand on her hip and started tapping her foot.

"A fuddy duddy potion?"

"Shut up, I couldn't think of anything. Besides, I have had way too much sugar." She walked over to the couch and sat down.

"But seriously, what on earth are you doing here? You're breaking the rule!" she sighed defeatedly as he sat next to her on the couch. "Take that ridiculous disguise, you're not fooling anyone." She pulled off his sunglasses and she winced. His eyes looked bruised and bloodshot. She couldn't bring herself to say anything.

"I'm sorry I didn't wait for you, but you got to give me a break. You're dealing with a Death Eater. Things are complicated sometimes." he tossed his hat on the table.

"It's alright. What happened?"

"Don't ask." He replied harshly.

"Okayyy..." she bit her lip and looked at him. "So you came all this way to apologize?"

"Sure, why not."

"Uhuh. Spit it out."

"I'm hiding." Ginny scoffed.

"You're hiding? That's hilarious. You're hiding with your secret lover, that you never talk to, unless it's the time and place...You trust me enough to hide a Death Eater. From who? An Auror? Harry? Now that would be hilarious-"

"Will you shut up for one second you bleeding psychopath! I don't think the Ministry can hear you, you might want to shout a bit louder."

"Sorry-"

"No wonder I never talk to you unless it's the time and place...for fuck sake. Well, anyways, Mrs. Blabberbottoms, I'm in hiding from-"

"Blabberbottoms?" she smiled, taking a sip from her hot chocolate.

"Don't interrupt me. I'm hiding, from the Dark Lord." he told her quietly.

"Didn't you just come from seeing him? Why did you come to me?"

"Yes, I did." He spoke through clenched teeth. "That's why I look so horrendous." he paused. "You know that I don't agree with him. That I was conned into the gig by my father. You ask why am I here? You are the last person anyone would look for me."

"And?" Ginny widened her eyes. Ginny took a big gulp of her hot chocolate.

"I want you to be my Secret-Keeper." At this precise moment, Ginny spat about half of her hot chocolate on Draco's face. She covered her mouth quickly.

"I'm so sorry. Of course I'll do that for you..." Draco took a sigh of relief, but Ginny continued to speak. "On one condition."

"And that would be?"

"The new 'same place, same time' wont be at the cottage at eight. It'll be here and, well, whenever I feel like it."

"I don't know, that we actually started talking, I'm not that interested any more..." Draco smirked. Ginny raised a brow, and scooted closer to him and whispered something in his ear.

"Maybe your right." She got up, grabbed her wand and locked the front door. She walked into her room and shouted at him, "There are some blankets and pillows in the closet, some food in the fridge, and the bathroom is in my room. Make yourself at home, we'll perform the charm in the morning." She shut her door.

Draco gazed around her flat. It was plain, that was for sure. They never asked questions about each others lives, or anything like that. It was a strict 'don't ask don't tell' policy and Draco was definitely breaking the rules. He's getting personal. Truth be told, he liked how things were before, but he couldn't handle being a death eater any longer and he knew that she was the only one he could trust. If she didn't tell anyone about their relationship before, then he could be assured she won't tell now.

He slid off his jacket, and placed his shiny watch on the table. He got a blanket and a pillow from the closet, and took off his shoes. He hopped onto the couch and laid down, watching the fire die down.

"Home..." he let his voice trail off as if it was a question.

There was no turning back now. If there was a chance of turning back, still, nothing would be the same.