Thanks to:

Brielle Montegomery for the lovely review! I love it when a story changes my mind about something, so when I read that you thought this might be making you more Draco-Ginny inclined, I was ecstatic! And I've always figured Ginny wouldn't like Harry going off and leaving her like he did, even if it was for her own safety. She's way too independent to enjoy someone trying to baby her. Just look how she acted during the Battle for Hogwarts! (And now I have to remind myself that she's just a fictional character heheh.)

FreeSpiritSeeker for the review as well. Sorry for the delay...again... :/

orangepigeon19 for the follow.

CamoPrincess0913 for the follow.

Kinsie for the follow.

Rosalind for the review. First of all, thank you for taking the time to point that out to me. I'm still new to writing, and I (obviously) make a lot of mistakes. I try to research as much as I can, but sometimes I tend to write more of the way I see things that what is the realistic version, if that makes any sense. Actually, you helped me gain a new angle on Draco's character and inspired a few parts of the rest of the story. Again, thank you for pointing that out to me :) (p.s. I realized that about Ron after I read your review. I could have kicked myself for not thinking about that.)

Ra'iira The Friend for the follow.

Carolynagness for the follow.

LucySkywalker for the follow.

NightmareSpazz23 for the follow.

Sincerest apologies if I forgot anyone or misspelled names, etc.


It was snowing when they finished Thursday night's detention in the greenhouses. The snowflakes drifted down and landed on Ginny's upturned face. Gasping in delight, she let her eyes slide closed. Draco shook his head. What was so wondrous about snow?

Her cheeks and nose glowed pink from the cold, and the Slytherin quickly grabbed her arm to usher her forward. He had enough trouble on his hands without having to deal with hypothermia as well. Eyes popping open at the unexpected touch, she lifted her gaze to his questioningly.

"The snow is coming down hard. We'd better head back before it gets worse," he explained. After studying his face, Ginny nodded in agreement. She firmly grasped his hand and lifted it off her arm. "I am quite capable of walking on my own, thank you." To make her point, the Gryffindor skipped ahead. The way her hair swished along her back with each bounce was oddly charming. Draco shook his head again, following her grudgingly.

When he came level with her, Ginny stated, "The stars are beautiful tonight." She tilted her head back as a smile spread across her face. Tonight, with Draco beside her, she would not think of Harry. Tonight she was going to relax and enjoy the company of a friend. It was easy for her to ignore her conflicted feelings about Harry's letter; Draco had the peculiar gift for pushing all other thoughts from her mind.

Her companion stared at her, his feet mechanically lifting and pushing him forward. What was it about her that made her the way she was? Where did all her wonder come from?

If Draco had been an artist, he supposed he would have sketched her like this, posed against a backdrop of snow and darkness with the stars twinkling down on her upturned face. Everything about her, from the smallest freckle to her sudden interesting in skipping, stood out. The whites of her eyes contrasted with the shinning brown. Laughter swirled around her face as she unexpectedly twirled with her arms outstretched. Catching a snowflake on her tongue, such a simple act to him, made her grin in delight.

There was so much joy in her that it blinded him. How could she still be so carefree, on the outside at least, after the War? She was either remarkably resilient or a fantastic actor.

Without warning, Ginny paused in her spinning to look over at him. Her face glowed under the starlight. She looked like a dream, one he could not touch for fear of shattering. Oblivious to his troubled mood, the Gryffindor lifted her chin resolutely, "Draco, I have something I want to show you."

The narrow-eyed expression on his face made her roll her eyes. He was so paranoid. It would have been funny if it had not been so heartbreaking. Sighing, she acknowledged that he had ample reason for his wariness.

"Relax," Ginny commanded with a shake of her head. "It's just a watch. I figured you had to be good at fixing things, what with the Vanishing Cabinets business and all that." After clearing her throat of its sudden tightness, she continued. This nonchalant attitude was harder to pull off than she had expected. The anger that lingered behind her façade made it even more difficult.

"I thought you could take a peek at it and maybe see what was wrong," she continued, directing her attention to his forehead rather than his eyes. It was easier that way. "The hands have been acting wacky lately. Well, more so than usual. Here, give me a second to find it."

It took a few minutes of fishing in her pockets, but Ginny finally let out a triumphant yell. In her hand was the wristwatch, which she promptly tossed to him.

Fumbling to keep hold of the watch with his gloves, he eventually steadied his hands and stared down at the tiny, nondescript black watch. The broken hands, decorated with pictures of her family, fluctuated from "Azkaban" to "home" and back again.

"It's been doing that ever since Fred and George used it in one of their 'experiments'," Ginny explained, smirking at some inside joke. He glanced up at her, eyebrows raised.

"Dad was never able to figure out what they did to it to mess it up. They're probably the ones who broke Mum's clock, too. Anyway, I thought you might be able to look at it, see what was wrong..." she trailed off with a shrug of her shoulders.

First her handkerchief (which he had yet to return) and now her watch? The reason she was giving it to him, he understood all too well, was to cement the fragile trust between them. By entrusting him with her personal items, she was allowing him a chance to prove that her doubts were misdirected. He hated how she made him feel so unworthy of it. Where had all his dignity, his pride gone?

In the past, he had hated asking others for help, even though most of the time he had desperately needed it. A royal screw-up, he had been. If he were being honest with himself, he would admit that he still was—perhaps even more so now than before. He had even thrown Professor Snape's advice in his face, and Draco had once viewed him as a second father. So how had Ginny managed to sneak under his walls and get him to accept her kindness?

As Draco dubiously inspected the watch, he noticed how Ginny's portrait was now wavering between "traveling" and "mortal peril." How encouraging, he mused, his lips curving faintly. When he noticed Ginny studying him, he wiped the half-smile from his face.

Ginny reasoned that she had pushed him enough for today. "If you don't want to, that's fine. I can just have George look at it again," she stated, reaching for the watch. Her fingertips brushed his. Warmth raced up her hand to her arm and she withdrew it hurriedly. The quickness with which his eyes snapped up to hers was startling.

Why was he so jumpy? Moreover, why was she? After pondering her reaction, she found that she actually liked the unusual feeling. It made her feel normal in the oddest sense of the phrase. It took her to simpler times, when she was busy playing Quidditch and entertaining boyfriends on the side.

Draco's fingers closed around the watch with a reflexive snap. Hasty words threatened to leap from his tongue, but he restrained them. It was callous of her to dangle reparation in front of him and then snatch it back before he could grab it. This was his chance to settle the score, and he was not going to let it go. Then again, maybe that had been her plan all along. Let him proverbially hang himself and turn his own heart from the Dark Side. Either way, he could not let the opportunity go to waste—even if he was making it all too easy for her to reform him.

"No," the Slytherin replied smoothly, pocketing the watch. "No, that won't be necessary. I'll look at it and see what I can do." Seeing the delighted look in her eyes, he felt it was necessary to caution her. There was no need for her to get her hopes up only to have them crushed later on. He knew what that felt like. She did not deserve any more disappointments, no matter how trivial.

"I can't make any promises, Ginny. I might not be able to fix it." Nevertheless, he would try his hardest. Repairing broken things was what he did best, after all. That fact was a bit too ironic for him to appreciate at the moment.

Ignoring the startled look on his face, Ginny gave a shout and threw her arms around him. Her head pressed against his torso. A sort of airy, loose sensation crawled up her stomach upon contact. It felt like she was flying in a Woollongong Shimmy formation on her broom. She smiled into his cloak. It felt nice.

Abruptly, his muscles tightened, and she realized she still had her arms around him. Her cheeks heated as she hurriedly backed away. In the back of her mind, regret reared its distasteful head. She liked the way she felt near him—at ease, yet continuously caught off guard. Being with Harry had never felt like this. There were no surprises with him, no anticipation as she discovered another piece of his puzzle.

At once, awareness crashed down on her. She had compared Draco to Harry and found Harry lacking. Ashamed of her thoughts, the Gryffindor turned her head away to gaze at the distant tree line.

"Sorry. I don't know what came over me," she murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's fine. Just don't do it again," Draco replied tensely, shaking off the peculiar feeling of her arms around him. The scent of her shampoo, a combination of honeysuckle and sunshine, lingered on his cloak. He inhaled discreetly. It was not an offending smell, to be honest.

He remembered smelling it twice before: the first time, on the train at the beginning of the year; and the second time, when they had stumbled upon one another in the corridor after hours. That night was what had started this whole detention business.

He frowned as new realization hit him. If not for that accidental meeting, they would not be standing here with each other. There would be no exchanging smirks, snarky retorts, or hesitant smiles. He still would not know what it felt like for her to embrace him as if she actually cared.

Why did it matter so much? It never had before. Of course, before, he would never have wanted to hug her in the first place. Now that he had, he suddenly found that he... Well, perhaps like was too strong a word. Her hugs were not unbearable. Yes, that's much better.

"Is that a blush I see?"

Effectively snapped out of his thoughts, Draco returned his gaze to Ginny. She mock-gasped and peered into his face, "It is a blush! Draco Malfoy is blushing!" Satisfaction shot through her when she realized that the hug had affected him as much as it had her. Apparently, Death Eater or not, he was still a boy, and she was still a girl.

Quickly shifting his features into a scowl, Draco shoved her away. I have the oddest feeling that I've done this before. However, he only succeeded in making her grin even more. "Sod off, Weasley. It's just hot out here, that's all." As if mocking him, the snow began to fall even harder. Bloody cold front.

"Just move!" the Slytherin commanded. "I don't fancy getting caught out of bed after curfew by Filch again. One week of you is enough to drive any bloke mad; two weeks would have me packed off to St. Mungo. People look at me as if I'm barmy as it is, and they don't need any more encouragement from the likes of you."

Snickering loud enough for him to hear, the Gryffindor stepped back and resumed walking. "I thought we agreed to go by Draco and Ginny," she reminded him. A roll of the eyes was the only sign he had even heard her. "Oh, don't be like that! Here, I know what'll cheer you up. Listen and tell me who you think of."

He began to protest but hushed when he heard the familiar voice coming from Ginny's mouth.

"Oh, Draco, don't forget that a Hogsmead visit is coming up. You don't want me going by myself, do you? I'd be so bored without you. Blaise is taking Daphne, and they'll be too busy snogging in Madam Puddifoot's to have a decent conversation. Tracy and Theodore are going together, and I don't want to be a third wheel. Millicent isn't going at all (I don't think anyone's asked her and she hates going by herself). So you see, I'll have no one to talk to! You have to go with me. Hogsmead is so very dreary when you're alone."

It was all he could do to continuing walking without tripping over his own feet. "Bloody heck, Weasley! For a second I actually thought Pansy was here." The resemblance was uncanny, and he had to hold back a smile. Slytherin was certainly missing out on a brilliant witch. Clearly, the Sorting Hat was growing more senile by the year.

"That's the general idea," was her smug reply. She's enjoying this too much, he decided. It was time she felt the sting of her own hex, as Zabini liked to say.

"Oh, I'm dearly sorry, but I don't believe I can. You see, the Wrackspurts have been very active lately and I fear they stole my new shoes. The Headmistress said I couldn't go without shoes again. The last time I did, I stepped on a Nargle, who cursed my foot for its troubles. I had to sit in the Infirmary for an entire day before the swelling would go down, even with Madam Pomphrey's potions. After much fuss, I was finally able to track down the poor creature and apologize. But the day was not completely wasted, as it taught me a valuable lesson. I will never walk barefoot to Hogsmead again. The Nargles won't take kindly to another mishap."

Rather than discouraging her as he had hoped, his quick reply made Ginny's face glow with eagerness. Finally, a challenge! While he did not have the skill she did (he was much too stiff and awkward with the deliverance), he made up for it with nifty improvising.

They went back and forth, exchanging impressions with all the seriousness of a duel, until the absurdness of it caught up with them. Here they were, one former Death Eater and one not-quite member of the Order of the Phoenix (an Honorary Member was still a member, as she had stubbornly declared to her mother during the Battle of Hogwarts). Yet they were behaving like, well, like friends. It was ridiculous.

When they met each other's gaze, they exploded with laughter. Ginny resorted to leaning against Draco's shoulder as she gulped down a giggle. Draco made no comment when her hair lightly grazed against his neck, though his brain did go fuzzy for a moment.

After the last snicker died out, they resumed their trek back to the castle.

"How did you get so good at imitating people anyway?" Draco inquired, struggling to keep his face impassive. It did not help that she was walking close enough that her hand brushed his every few seconds.

Grin dimming to a mere quirk of the lips, Ginny gathered her thoughts. As they paused in their walk to settle on the nearby bench, he watched her stare up at the stars. It was too easy to let himself gaze into her eyes and study how the starlight danced in them. When had she turned from enemy to friend? And sweet Salazar, has it actually been less than a week since this eccentric relationship began budding? It had seemed like forever to him.

"It's kind of silly, actually," Ginny began with a wistful smile, clasping her hands between her knees. "When I was little, while my other brothers were playing Quidditch, Ron and I would play a game. We'd try to see who could come closest to sounding like Mum when she was in her various moods, be it angry, forgetful, calm, sad, or happy. From there it went to Dad, and Bill, and Charlie, and so forth. We had a lot of fun back then. But, as all children do, we grew up. Ron began playing with Fred and George, while I was left to amuse myself. That's how I ended up stealing their broomsticks and flying around on them. Well, not so much flying as falling. It's strange though, you know? After all this time, I still miss that silly game we played."

I miss Ron, was what she meant to say. Though he was at Hogwarts with her, he had his own life now; so many other things took up his time. He was not just her big brother anymore. He was a boyfriend, best mate, and hero. She missed being able to sit down and do something as simple as play a game with him.

A sudden weight on her shoulder brought her out of her thoughts. Ginny blinked up at Draco and furrowed her brow in confusion. Holding her gaze, he ignored the panicky flutters in his stomach. He would not be much of a friend if he did not comfort her when she needed comforting. It was the right thing to do, even if it made his Slytherin heart bemoan his lost pride. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

"It's not silly," he began slowly. "It brought you and your brother together. Something like that should never be taken for granted. You never know when you'll need that connection. You don't miss stuff like that until you don't have it anymore."

"You sound like you're speaking from personal experience," she told him softly.

"I am."

The Gryffindor reached up her hand and placed it on his. Her warmth seeped into his skin.

"Thank you."

"For what?" Draco questioned, leaning towards her unconsciously. When he noticed what he was doing, he stopped. Idiot.

"For listening. And for trusting me to do the same."

He had no reply to that other than a slow nod.


*A Woollongong Shimmy is a move in Quidditch where the Chasers fly in a zig-zag motion to confuse opposing Chasers.

Next up, Pansy and Draco have a heart-to-heart! This update shouldn't take as long, since my beta reader, Marinka, has already read over it. Thanks to everyone for sticking with me!