A/N: It's been a while, I know. I do really want to upload sooner, but I just have so much to do:(

Anyway, please review, review, review. If you like it, but also if you don't. Constructive criticism is always welcome! Also, I realize my chapters are kind of short, but as soon as the story gets a little bit more dynamic, the chapters will be longer, I promise. Enjoy!

Ginny was sitting in the Great Hall, eyes on her breakfast, but barely eating it. She had been sleeping for about two hours before her alarm went off, and she had dressed in a haze. The Golden Trio sat beside her on the table, talking animatedly, but she wasn't really paying attention to what they were saying.

When the owls came in she lifted her eyes, but she didn't expect any mail today. Her attention was drawn to a beautiful dark grey owl with white spots on its wings. She followed it with her eyes, and of course it landed at the Slytherin table, right before Malfoy. As he looked up towards the owl, his eyes darted around, and for a moment, he looked straight at Ginny.

She quickly concentrated on her breakfast again.

'Helloooo, Ginny?'

Ron waved his hand up and down in front of her face.

'Huh, what?'

Ron, Harry and Hermoine were all looking at her with slight concern on their faces.

'We were asking if you were okay,' said Hermoine, 'you look like you didn't get much sleep tonight.'

'Oh, no, you silly!' Ginny smiled brilliantly at her. 'I was just daydreaming at little about the upcoming year. I wonder what my schedule will be like.'

And right on time, Professor McGonagall stood beside her suddenly handing out their timetables.

Ron and Harry were immediately distracted, but Ginny noticed that Hermione kept watching her carefully. She pretended not to notice as she studied her own schedule, and inquired after theirs.

Eventually, they were all going upstairs to get their books for the first classes.

Ron was still complaining animatedly to Harry about their schedule, and somehow he found it necessary to walk backwards in front of him to prove a point. When he walked backwards through the door he walked straight into Malfoy, who stood just around the corner.

'Ow, sorry, I—'

Ron's ears turned a bright scarlet as soon as he realised who he was dealing with.

'Watch where you're going you arrogant brat!'

Malfoy simply looked at him with a blank expression on his face. In the second of silence that followed, Ron managed to turn two shades darker red, before he stormed off to the stairs.

Harry and Hermione followed him, but in doing so, Harry shoved Malfoy's shoulder and Hermoine scowled at him. Ginny was left standing in front of Malfoy, who had still not said a word. He just looked at her, his face expressionless, but his eyes filled with all kinds of emotions.

They flicked by too fast, and Ginny couldn't tell which they were.

After a moment, Ginny lightly placed a hand on his arm.

'Sorry about that,' she whispered.

He closed his eyes, and she walked on.

What just happened?

The Weasel had bumped into him while he was waiting for Little Red, and had ruined his plans to talk to her. He had been rude, but instead of insulting him in reply, Draco had been silent. He had seen Red just standing there, mouth slightly open, and he simply couldn't bring himself to act as he usually did. Not knowing what to do instead, he had just stood there.

And then, she had apologised for her brothers behaviour.

Damn it.

Draco was sitting in his Charms class, not paying any attention at all, since it was just a simple introduction lesson to explain the course of the upcoming year.

Last night had been strange. Pleasant, but strange.

He had woken up from a nightmare once again, and instead of going back to sleep, he had roamed the castle halls.

What happened over the summer had changed him. Broke him, tore him to shreds, burnt him down.

He had felt as if he was standing on a cliff, about to jump off to see if he could fly, but knowing at the same time he could not.

When he had heard a noise, he had walked into a random door, only to find the Weaselette standing there. An oversized shirt, bare legs, hair falling freely. She had looked around at him, and he had expected her to scream, hex him, or at least tell him to get out.

But she hadn't.

And so he had stood beside her. The terrible feeling had slowly vanished, and for the first time in a really long time he had felt okay.

At the end of the night, she wasn't the Weaselette anymore, she was Little Red.

When their eyes had met during breakfast, he had decided to wait for her, to thank her. But that obviously hadn't worked out as planned.

And somehow, all he could think about was the sight of her in that oversized shirt, and the feeling of her delicate hand on his arm.

Maybe she could help him.