Ginny had been a bit on edge most of the day. Her breakfast had come with an unwelcome surprise: a note from her new Headmaster requesting her presence in his office after her last class. Considering his station, she doubted it was a true request.

So, when four o'clock rolled around, she made her way up to the office, providing the gargoyle with the password he had supplied in his note: lily. Strangely feminine password, but there it was. The gargoyle opened as she questioningly spoke the word, and she followed the spinning staircase up to the top office.

It was as one would expect Snape's office to be. It felt cold and impersonal. The décor was largely black (or what little there was in way of décor, at least).

"Professor Snape. I believe you wanted to see me."

"Good of you to come, Ms. Weasley."

"Of course, Headmaster. May I inquire as to the reason for this visit?" Ginny asked stiffly. She shifted under Snape's intense stare.

"I heard you have had trouble sleeping. I wanted to check on you and see if there was anything I could do to help."

What? "That's very kind, sir. It was actually just last night that I was having insomnia."

"Yes, Ms. Hemlocke informed me that you found the fire very therapeutic." I wonder if he calls her Ms. Hemlocke during sex.

"I do love the warmth of a fire," Ginny replied, not sure where this was headed.

"The trouble is, Ms. Weasley, is that the Slytherin common room is the only one without a fireplace." And now Snape was looking at her as she was accustomed to, thrilled at catching her doing something wrong. How did she miss that?

"Professor," Ginny responded haughtily, "I am a witch. I think I can conjure a controlled fire when I so desire."

"Would you care to show me?"

Ginny's mind raced as she tried to determine how best to go about this. She also desperately hoped she hadn't used the specificity of a fireplace with Marie or Snape, because she didn't think she could do that without some practice.

Ginny shrugged, trying to appear casual while doing so. "I would think such trivial magic would bore you, Headmaster, but I would be happy to." Ginny silently conjured a giant candle, about her height in width and length. It had multiple wicks and she lit all of them at once. It was the easiest thing she could think of doing that could still accurately be described as a "fire."

"I had no idea you were so gifted with nonverbal spells, or with Transfiguration. Your professor is serving you well." Damn. Ginny had grown so used to nonverbal magic that it took a conscious effort for her to speak the incantations. Unfortunately, she had been too distracted to employ that effort.

"She's a remarkable teacher, Headmaster."

"Noted." Snape was making serious eye contact with her, to the point where she was starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable. And then she felt it. Someone less trained might have brushed the feeling away as an after effect of Snape's intense gaze, but she was too familiar with the push of Legilimency.

Ginny knew it would be smartest to let him in—if she could control her thoughts. It was a big if. If he really wanted to get past her walls, he would have no problem doing it. She had no such illusions about her own gifts. But he wouldn't be able to do it without making a scene, and she didn't think he was prepared to do so. And she didn't think she was practiced enough to shield her current thoughts. Thinking about Legilimency would be just as much of a giveaway as pushing him out.

So she stopped teetering on the edge or slowing his assault on her mind. She pushed him out as gently as possible, but it was decisive. And clearly intentional. A flash of surprise came across Snape's face. Ginny just smiled sweetly, trying to keep her face as innocent as possible, but it wouldn't do. He knew.

"I believe this meeting is over, Ms. Weasley. I trust you will inform me if I can assist with your insomnia in any way." They both rose from their respective seats. He was openly glaring at her even as he kept his voice even.

"I appreciate your concern, Professor," Ginny replied simply, shaking his hand. His handshake threatened to crush her, and she mirrored him. It lasted longer than it should have.

Snape sat back down. "I trust you can find your way out." She nodded and did just that.

What just happened? And what did Snape think she was hiding?

Ginny returned to her room in a haze. She had a Prefect meeting that she was supposed to attend, but she skipped it, seeking the warmth of her bed. Instead, as she opened the door, she found Marie rummaging through her things.

Ginny acted on instinct, drawing her wand and disarming her silently. "What the hell, Marie?"

Marie's eyes were wide with shock. "Gin—I—I didn't mean to offend you. But you said I could borrow your moon-shaped necklace any time I wanted and I couldn't find it."

Ginny's left hand instinctively went to find the necklace that she was wearing over her Slytherin tie. It was smart of Marie to pick a necklace she was wearing. A little too smart. And why had Marie told Snape about her sleeping problems? Was it more than pillow talk?

But not wanting to cause another scene, Ginny lowered her wand and put on her best apologetic face, overdramatized slightly to hopefully match her counterpart.

"Marieeeeeeeeee," Ginny half-shrieked. "I'm so sorry. I've just been on edge all day." She sighed loudly. "I seriously need my beauty sleep. Forgive me?" Ginny asked with a pout.

"Of course!" Marie exclaimed before running over and catching her in a tight hug.

To be on the safe side, Ginny listened to Marie talk more than she normally tolerated that night.

Ginny mostly tuned her out, but her ears perked up when she heard her fiancée's name. She had started listening midsentence, so it was difficult to pick up the thread. "…it's just you seem much more cheerful about the wedding lately. Did some of the shock of losing some of your memories change your priorities, or something?"

"Well, it's just there's nothing to be glum about. We're to be wed, so I'm making the best of it."

"Do you forgive him, then?" Marie looked genuinely interested in Ginny's response, which was rare.

"Forgive him for what?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten everything." The words came out slowly.

"Of course not. Just details. I just hate to dwell on the past." Ginny hated that she didn't know what Marie was talking about, but she couldn't ask. The mere suggestion that she might not remember what Marie referred to was bringing out a whole new side to her roommate.

"Of course," Marie responded, a little too quickly.

What could Draco have done? Whatever he had done apparently had to do with "everything" as Marie had so delicately put it. Perhaps her counterpart wasn't just being petulant about her upcoming nuptials.

The next day, Ginny returned to the Lockhart series in the library. She had determined to research Snape (mainly by looking through various indexes for his name), but now she found herself more interested if she could find information on Draco. There was very little. She went through all the volumes meticulously but there were few mentions of her intended. Any notes about him mostly identified him as Lucius's son or a member of the Malfoy family generally.

She had more luck with Snape. There were an overwhelming amount of mentions in him in more recent volumes as he was Headmaster, but he was notably absent in books about the early days of Voldemort's rise. Perhaps there was friction between him and Voldemort during that time.

The information was much more difficult to sift through. His name was tied up in mentions of the "vast improvements at Hogwarts" but nothing illuminating was said about the man himself. What did she expect, really, from a book written for flattery purposes? The work Snape was doing was clearly not out in the open if he resorted to meetings in the dead of the night in secluded hallways. But she was determined to find out what was going on somehow.

A few days later, Ginny tumbled out of the fireplace and into the Manor at the normal Friday night time. Draco was waiting for her, sitting on his bed in his pajamas.

"Gin!" He greeted her with a grin.

"Hi, Draco," Ginny responded half-heartedly. Ever since her conversation with Marie, she couldn't shake her roommate's question. Did she forgive him? What had he done? And the thought kept tugging at her: maybe Draco seemed too good to be true because he was. He was, after all, still Draco Malfoy.

"Everything alright?" He inquired, concerned. Ginny wanted to groan. He was so in tune with her emotions sometimes, but seemed happy to ignore the lust bubbling under the surface.

"It's just been a long day." A long week.

"What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it. I just want to sleep." Ginny was curt, and she felt her heart tug slightly as Draco's face fell. Just as quickly, he masked over his disappointment, nodding in agreement.

A substantial part of Ginny wanted to jump onto the bed and bury herself in Draco, demanding that he tell her everything, and sharing her story in return. The part might have won if Ginny had been "Gin"—if she hadn't gone through hell and back, only to return full of suspicion. The instinctual trust she felt toward the man sitting on his bed—their bed?—was overshadowed by manufactured paranoia, now coupled with the seed of doubt Marie had planted. No, she wouldn't let herself open up to him.

So, she quietly collected her pajamas from the drawer and slipped into the bathroom to change. Draco had forgotten to put away his cologne bottle and it was sitting near the back corner of the ornate gold sink. Ginny picked it up and inhaled the scent. It didn't smell quite like him; the vanilla and musk were there, but in different proportions, and the ink was absent entirely. Slightly disappointed, she put the bottle back where she found it and splashed water on her face before changing.

When she returned to the bedroom, Draco was spread eagle with his eyes closed. He didn't speak or move, but Ginny could tell he was just pretending to sleep. His breathing wasn't deep enough, and his body was too stiff. Still, she was glad of the pretense. She quietly slipped into bed next to him, sleeping on her side as always, but this time facing Draco, eyes boring into him searching for answers that she wasn't likely to receive tonight.