Chapter 19! I'm so proud of myself! This is the longest story I've ever written! Yeah! Okay, enough exclamation points now.

Disclaimer; I own nothing you reconize from the Harry Potter books.

He moved quickly and never paused to look back at her or make sure she was keeping up. Then again he had the necklace as assurance she wouldn't run away.

She followed him down the dim corridor until he stopped at a portrait of Salazar Slytherin, scowling at her.

He held up a hand, indicating her to stay where she was. Again, she obeyed. "Purebloods." He muttered and with an audible creak the portrait swung open.

"How original." She murmured. Slytherins never really were a creative lot. Draco poked his head in looked around, and turned back to her. "All clear. Follow me."

The Slytherin common room was beautiful. Everything about it boasted wealth and good taste. The floors, where not covered with lush green carpet, were white marble. She lost all thoughts of being n a dungeon. While the room was chilly, the fire blazing in the large fireplace kept it from being cold. Soft, green armchairs and small tables surrounded the room. It was not at all cold or aloof, as she had imagined it. It actually seemed inviting.

"What's the matter, Weasley?" Draco sneered. "Never been in a room this nice before?"

"No, I just never knew it was possible to have so much green in a room without it imploding."

From outside they heard voices.

"Hurry, come with me." He called and led her to the staircase on the left side of the common room. Unlike the ones in Gryffindor, these led down instead of up. When he reached the door on the very bottom, he murmured a password and it swung open, just as they heard the main portrait rasp.

"That was close." Ginny said.

He nodded. From above them she heard music.

"What are they doing up there?" She asked.

"Having a party." He answered.

"What's the occasion?"

"You don't want to know."

"Yes I do." She said, a little frustrated.

He shook his head and said, "Gryffindor lost."

"Quidditch? But…we weren't even playing Slytherin. Do they do this every time we lose?"

"Basically."

"Lovely. Now is there something you needed to know?" She asked sharply.

"You said you found a place. Where?"

Her face lost some of its edge. "You're not going to like it."

"Where?"

"Remember, I wouldn't be saying this unless I had considered every other option."

"Just tell me where."

"Well…the burrow." She said quickly.

"The what?" He questioned.

"The burr- my house."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm afraid not. I hate- really hate- the thought of you being at my house but if you think about it, it's actually one of the safest places you could be. I mean, with Harry there-"

"No way. No way am I spending my Christmas with Weasel Sr. and Potter."

"Well, the way I see it you don't have much of a choice. Look, there will be twenty-four hour guard and no one would ever think to look for you there. You won't like it, but you'll be safe."

He was silent for a moment. "You planned this didn't you?" He asked, but it wasn't an actual accusation. He knew she was almost as displeased with the situation as he was.

"Yes," She answered sarcastically. "What else do I live for if not to spend all day thinking of ways to make Draco Malfoy miserable? I even dream about it at night."

"You dream about me? Oh, kinky. I like it."

"You are such a freak. Do you realize that?"

"Yes, yes I do." He said, looking up at her and licking his lips.

Disgusted, she groaned.

"Listen, I know you want me," He said with a smirk, " but you'll have to get past the fact that I'm irresistibly sexy and we're in a bedroom… at least long enough that we can talk about this."

"Everything's been worked out. All you have to do is come up with an excuse to Daddy Dearest why you aren't coming home for Christmas."

"Simple. I'll tell him Potter and his crew are staying for the holiday and I want to spy on them. If that doesn't work I'll just simply not show up."

"You spy on Harry?"

"He's not the only one." He said, raising his eyebrow suggestively. Suddenly she felt very bare in her soiled quidditch uniform.

"You are such a pervert." She said.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, she shifted on her feet and sighed. "How long before they're done?" She asked, pointing upward to the source of the blaring music and cheering.

"Do you goody-goody Gryffs ever have parties?"

She nodded.

"And how long do they normally last?" He asked.

"Oh, Merlin! You mean they'll be up there all night?"

He nodded.

"How am I supposed to get out of here?" She asked.

"Well, you could just walk out." He stated.

"Yeah and have a bunch of gossipy Slytherins see? I can only imagine the rumors. No, not an option. Besides, what happened to 'arousing suspicion'?"

"Well then, Weasley, looks like you're spending the night."

"Are you serious?"

"I don't kid bout spending the night." He said solemnly.

"I can't stay here! Is this some plan for ultimate revenge? Some, sick twisted plot to ruin my life?"

"Despite what you may think, Weasley, I do have better things to do then torment you. The world doesn't revolve around you."

"That's great coming from a guy who cries when he runs out of hair gel."

"Hey! I do not cry."

"So true. It's more a whimper, really." Commented his mirror. He glared menacingly at it.

"Do you want me to throw the hairbrush again?" He snapped. "I swear I'll kill the man who invented enchanted mirrors."

Ginny sighed. She really wasn't seeing any other option. If she walked out it was impossible to depart without at least a dozen Slytherins seeing her. That was sure to led to gossip of what exactly she and the infamous Slytherin Prince were doing alone with the doors locked. Of course, Hogwarts's smarter population they would realize that there was no possibility that a Malfoy and a Weasley were engaging in any inappropriate activities. And that would led to a lot of questions she would really didn't want to (or in some cases couldn't) answer.

"Fine." She said eventually, moving to sit down in the wooden chair near his bed.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Uhh…sitting down."

"No you're not." He said, kicking the chair away.

She glared.

"Well look at yourself." He commanded and gestured to the mirror.

She was mud splattered and wet; it had rained during the match. Not enough to be called a storm, but defiantly enough to ensure every player was now wet and dirty. Her hair was tangled and flying in all directions.

She felt stupid, standing in the lovely room dressed like a bum.

"You do look rather pitiful, don't you dear?" The mirror said kindly.

Malfoy grinned. "I'm starting to like this thing more and more." He said.

"I can't stand all night." She said looking rather annoyed.

When he didn't answer she crossed the room and knelt beside a large wooden chest. She opened the lid (adorned by a small gold plate that read 'Zabini') and began rummaging through its contents.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked.

"Getting clothes." She snapped, standing back up holding a pair of cotton shorts and a T-shirt that was clearly too big for her. Even in perfect condition the quidditch robe would have been uncomfortable to sleep in. The bulky knee and shoulder pads where irritating and awkward and the stretchy material was all together too clingy for Ginny's tastes. "I assume you have a shower?"

He pointed. As head boy, his was the nicest room in the dormitory and had it's own bathroom.

"Good." She went to the small room he had indicated as the shower, paused, and turned to look at him.

"What?" He asked, annoyed. "You think I'll look in on you? I'm not that desperate. No one's that desperate."

She glared at him and closed the door. He was positive he heard her whisper a locking charm as it shut.

She seemed to take forever in the shower. When the sound of running water finally stopped (encouraged by his incessant pounding on the door), it took what seemed like another eternality for her to finally emerge. When she did, she looked much more comfortable. At least as comfortable as she could be considering she was in the bedroom of Draco Malfoy. The t-shirt, a plain white Chudley Cannons shirt, was at least five sizes too big for her and reached at least halfway down her thighs. The tips of her black shorts barely peeked out from below its hem.

"Finally." He said, trying not to think about how lovely her bare cream legs looked, because even if she was a Weasley there was still a pretty girl in his bedroom and he was still a teenager.

He brushed past her and into the bathroom. Less then five minutes later, he emerged wearing green satin pajamas pants and a matching shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest. With one hand he was drying his hair with a towel. The other, too, contained a towel.

"Weasley? Why was this covering the mirror?"

"I don't like mirrors." She said, blushing and looking pointedly at the enchanted mirror hanging on his wall. "I kept feeling like it was looking at me."

He rolled his eyes. "The bathroom mirrors aren't enchanted."

"Oh." She said as she watched him discard the towels carelessly on the floor. He sat down on the bed and suddenly something occurred to her. She looked from his side of the room to Blaise's side.

"Where's Blaise?" She asked.

"He and Toby Blackwell both have a thing for one of the Patil girls…I forget which one. Anyway, at first he went over there to decide once and for all who would have the honor of following her around like a puppy and getting publicly humiliated. Then they got over their differences and moved on to more productive topics. Like how to talk her into a threesome."

"Eww! Eww! Eww! Are you serious!"

"I know it's in your genes, but please try to resist the urge to be the worlds biggest git. Blaise and Blackwell are potions partners. They're working on some extra credit work so Snape doesn't have to kick Toby out of the advanced class. They'll be there all night."

"Okay…what I actually meant by that was where is Blasie's bed?" She asked, because indeed there was only one bed in the room. "Unless…is there something he's not telling me? Because that would explain a lot. Your hair style for one."

"I am NOT gay! And there is nothing wrong with my hair either."

"Well, you must admit it is a little…how should I put this…well, pretty." The mirror said.

"Arg!" He picked up his hairbrush and hurled it across the room, smashing the mirror. It shattered loudly but even as the pieces fell to the ground, disappearing halfway, new pieces appeared and after only a moment the mirror looked completely unscathed.

"Hey!" It exclaimed.

"You deserved it." Draco told it sullenly.

"It didn't even hurt you." Ginny pointed out.

She was sure if the mirror had had eyes it would have been glaring. "Yes, but it's very traumatic. How would you like it if I hurled a brush at you?"

"Point taken. I'm sorry." She said, shaking her head sadly.

"Hmph." It snorted.

Draco, she noted, was closely examining his hair.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the most conceited of them all?" She asked, but the mirror, the perfect reflection of its owner, was pouting too and didn't reply.

"While this has all been very fun, I still want to know where the other bed is."

Slytherin rooms were known as the only ones that didn't house four students. One reason being the little dungeon rooms were too small to hold four and also because the teachers were probably worried that if four Slytherins were put together and expected to get along the world as it was would end.

"Blaise took it with him." Draco said dismissively.

"He…"

"Took. It. With. Him." He pronounced it all very slowly as if she were dumb while never taking his eyes off his reflection.

"Come on, Narcissus, pay attention."

"What?" He asked.

"Never mind. Now…he took the bed with him?"

"How many times do we have to go through this?"

"Well if you would explain maybe I wouldn't have to stand here asking the same question over and over."

"He shrunk the bed and took it with him."

"Why didn't he just sleep on the floor?" She asked. Malfoy stared blankly at her. "Oh, right. Stupid question."

He sat down on the bed and patted next to him. "Don't worry," He said, smirking, "I can share."

"Share? No way. It's your fault I'm stuck here. I get the bed."

"I don't think so." He said.

"Want to bet? Wingardium Leviosa!" She called and he found he was being lifted off the bed. She deposited him on the couch.

"Hey-"

"Do you really want to be on the receiving end of my bat-boogey hex?" She asked. He shivered, having seen he perform the curse on a particularly nasty fourth year who had been hazing a younger Hufflepuff. The experience was not one he wished to reenact first hand.

"Mmmm…soft." She said lying down. She then tossed him a blanket.

"Enjoy it. I'll have to burn the sheets. Can I at least have my pillow?" He whined.

She tossed it to him. Frowning, he threw it back.

"That is not my pillow." He said annoyed.

She threw him another one.

"Still not my pillow." He said.

She held up yet a third.

"Nope, not it."

"Well if you didn't have so many bleeding pillows I could find it! Come and get it yourself."

He walked over to the bed, leaned down over her until his body was so close to hers that he could feel her warm breath on his face. He heard her breath in sharply and with a smirk, leaned just a bit farther down, satisfied when she shivered.

"Cold, Weasley?"

"Yes. It's freezing down here." She said.

Only inches separating their faces he smirked again. "I know a way we could keep warm. And by the way," He said sweetly, "You're on my pillow." and before she could have time to react, he jerked the silk clad cushion from below her head.

Snickering, he returned to the couch.

"Jerk!" She cried and threw another pillow, hitting him square in the face. He turned and glared and despite herself, Ginny giggled. She couldn't help it. No matter how hard he glowered, he just couldn't look intimidating in pajamas.

He looked moderately put out but didn't reply. She slid underneath the covers and fluffed the remaining pillows, trying to find a comfortable position.

"Going to bed?" He asked, sounding mildly surprised.

"Yes. Sleepy." She answered.

"But it's only ten o'clock!" He said.

"Late."

"Are you kidding me?" He asked.

"Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise." She replied groggily.

"And now we know why Benjamin Franklin never had kids."

"Goodnight, Malfoy. Oh, and if you get any ideas, I swear you'll wake up missing some very vital bpdy parts."

Lilacs. The whole room smelled of lilacs. The fragrance filled her nose and the intensity of it left her head spinning. It was intoxicating. She took a deep breath, savoring the sweetness of it. Suddenly, she found herself being lifted off the ground by two strong arms. She was cradled tightly against a man's chest and the feeling of his steady breath rocking her body like the ocean was comforting. She sighed, contented, and leaned closer against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Again, she breathed in deeply and over the fragrance of lilacs she smelt the strong, clean scent of soap and a vaguely familiar aroma that was distinctly male. She couldn't place it, but it was so familiar…she jumped back with a start and looked into the face of her companion. Tom.

"Put me down." She ordered, beating her fists against his chest.

He laughed, even as she continued her assault. "So fickle, darling? And here I thought it was going rather well."

"Let. Me. GO." She yelled, letting her voice raise an octave on each word.

"But we're not there yet." He said grinning down at here as though he couldn't even feel the blows. "Now, close your eyes."

The world went dark and, feeling utterly betrayed, she realized her body had obeyed. She knew she wasn't in control anymore. This was Tom's realm.

"Open them," He ordered softly, setting her down. Despite herself, she gasped. The round bed he had set her down on was soft, molding to every curve of her body. As if in some child's fantasy world, it was placed on a pedestal of white marble and surrounded by a sheer curtain, smooth and thin as silk. Everywhere was lilacs.

With a smile at her reaction, he pulled away the canopy to give her a better view of what lay beyond her perch. A clear blue lake, shimmering like sapphires in the bright sun, greeted her. Weeping willows, graceful branches hanging in dignified arcs, covered the shoreline. Sea gulls called merrily to her from above.

The clouds were tinted pink as the first sings of sunset approached. It was truly, without a doubt, the most beautiful place she had ever seen.

"Do you like it?" He asked, his voice filled with a hint of boyishness. "The lilacs, are they still you're favorite?"

Wordlessly, she nodded.

"Good. I had hoped you would. I made it just for you- for us."

She stared up at him, startled. "What?"

"This- and so much more- can be yours if you just join me." His voiced was strained with what sounded like earnest longing. He took her small hand in his. "It's the only way we can be together."

She couldn't stand those eyes looking at her. Those eyes once so filled with concern and caring, looked upon so trustingly, now only filled her heart with coldness. She laughed spitefully, surprising even herself at how cold and bitter she sounded.

"Never. Tom, do you know what you have become now? You're not even a fraction of what you once were. You aren't even really alive. It's only a matter of time before Harry destroys you. You're just a memory now. "

"Wench!" He cried, jumping with catlike grace to her side. Horrified, she scrambled to her seat, slipping on the smooth sheets. "Horrid wretched slut! How dare you!" She had untangled herself enough to stand but tripping over the sheer canopy she fell to the ground. He closed in on her, like a vulture, rushing to its fallen prey. With one sturdy arm he pinned her shoulders against the cold marble floor. The other hand wrapped around her neck so tightly she couldn't breath.

"You will join me and I will win. There's nothing you or anyone can do to stop me."

Though the effort to speech burned her throat she managed to croak, "You've… already…lost…" Her eyes closed, the last of her breath escaping her lungs, and accepted the darkness that was closing in on her.

Then with a great crash, Tom's arms were pushed away. She inhaled as deeply as her bruised lungs would allow, savoring the sweetness of the air. She didn't bother to open her eyes, until she felt herself being lifted up again. Her eyes fluttered open lonely a moment. But before the world dimmed again, she saw a brief glimpse of silver and a new scent, one that smelled like cinnamon.

Yes! The long-awaited announcement of where he'll be staying! (As if you didn't already know)

Narcissus, if you didn't know, is a charecter from greek mythology who was so handsome (and conceited) that when he saw his reflection he fell in love with it and wasted away.

Thank you to all my reviewers from the last chapter. You're great.

Please, please, please review! I love your input!