Antithetical

my reflection, dirty mirror
there's no connection to myself
i'm your lover, i'm your zero
i'm the face in your dreams of glass
so save your prayers
for when we're really gonna need 'em
throw out your cares and fly
wanna go for a ride?

she's the one for me
she's all i really need
cause she's the one for me
emptiness is loneliness, and loneliness is cleanliness
and cleanliness is godliness, and god is empty just like me
intoxicated with the madness, i'm in love with my sadness
bullshit fakers, enchanted kingdoms
the fashion victims chew their charcoal teeth
i never let on, that i was on a sinking ship
i never let on that i was down
you blame yourself, for what you can't ignore
you blame yourself for wanting more
she's the one for me
she's all i really need
she's the one for me
she's my one and only

~ Zero, Smashing Pumpkins

Bright, white sunlight rained down from the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall. As each day passed, the chatter of breakfast time lessened as more and more students returned home for a few days with their families. They would all return for the Yule Ball on Christmas night. Ginny pushed away her breakfast plate and slithered out from her tight squeeze between Lavender and Ron at the Gryffindor table. She couldn't believe she didn't have a date for the winter ball and it was only 5 days until the big event. Yvette was no where to be found but Ginny wasn't worried. She had probably just slept in; after all, it was winter vacation.

After bidding her friends a quick 'see you later', Ginny exited the Great Hall in search of the breaker of her wand. She barely had time to close the massive doors behind her before Draco grabbed her arm from out of the shadows.

"Let's go," he said, pulling her with him as he walked swiftly. Ginny practically ran to keep up with his hurried strides.

"Well, good morning to you too," Ginny replied in a huff. "How did you manage to get passes for Hogsmeade anyway?"

"I didn't. We're sneaking out."

"Sneaking out?"

"Yes." He pulled her towards the Potion's classroom. Besides the closed entrance hung a portrait of an aristocratic man holding an angry looking Persian cat. The man and his pet stood on grass that suspiciously resembled that of the Great Lawn. The painting's frame was made of lacquer intertwined with silver, standing out yet complimenting the stone-brick walls behind it.

"Whoa! Where did that come from?" Ginny exclaimed.

"You have to know where to look to see it," Draco explained in his usual condescending tone. "It's a glamour for Slytherins only."
"Then why I can see it now?" she asked.

"I know where to look," he replied.

"Oh. That makes A LOT of sense." Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Good, it should." With that, Draco abruptly kicked the cat in the painting. Ginny's chocolate eyes widened as his foot struck the canvas. The white feline opened its mouth wide to snarl at them. Strangely, the mouth continued to expand until it resembled a saliva filled void lined with teeth and carpeted with tongue.

"What the--" Before she could protest, Draco grabbed her wrist again and jumped into the painting and through the cat's mouth, taking her with him. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, dreading the wet, slimy landing on the grimy tongue. Instead, they landed smoothly on one of Hogmeade's brick-layered streets.

***********************

"Long time, no see," Lucius sneered. Yvette had been dragged to the dungeons that tunneled deep underground beneath the notorious Malfoy manor. She looked tiredly up at Lucius.

"What do you want, Uncle? Is this yet another brilliant plants for resurrecting the Dark Lord?"

***********

Hogsmeade was bustling with last minute holiday shopping. Despite starting the day by jumping into the mouth of a ferocious snarling cat, Ginny held a mirthful disposition.

"Where's the wand shop?" she asked, her voice light and cherry.

"Down that block, but we won't be going there for a while."

"Why not?" Ginny asked.

"I need to visit the charms store," he answered.

"Why?"

"Just come with me, Weasley." He began to walk off.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," Ginny muttered under her breath as she hurried to catch up with him.

They traveled down the busy street, avoiding the pedestrian traffic as best as possible. Draco entered a shadowy little shop and she slipped in after him quietly. Her jaw dropped; it was obvious that this was a dark charms store. At the back of the store stood an array of seven large bookcases, all of which were covered from top to bottom with large, dusty volumes. Voldemort, himself could probably learn something from the large expanse of dark arts books. Illegal artifacts lay in crystalline display cases. Objects of lesser evil sat on exposition pedestals and hung on ill-lit walls. One that caught Ginny's eye was a simple pearl perched on a satin cushion. She leaned towards it only to find it an ever-swirling sea of faerie light.

"Hello, Draco darling," cooed an old woman sitting in a corner. Ginny nearly jumped at the elderly witch's demure voice. Brushing a strand of snowy white hair out of her face, she got to her feet, leaning her weight against a cane carved with animal designs. "It's been a while since I saw you last. My...how you've grown."

Draco gave her an embarrassed grin. "Hello Mrs. Weatherspoon," he replied.

She was a small, proud, grandmother-ly woman with twinkling green eyes and comfortably wrinkled skin. She wore a classic, gray witch's robe with the many uneven layers and long pocket-like sleeves. The shop suited her persona so well she almost blended right into it.
"Hi," Ginny spoke up shyly.

"And who's this?" She turned to Ginny in her red and gold robes. "A Gryffindor girlfriend? Draco, I'm shocked." Then noticing Ginny's dismayed expression, she added, "In a pleasant way."

"I'm not -" Ginny started but stopped when a voice sounded in her head.

"Let it go, Wealsey," it said.

"Malfoy?" Ginny thought with surprise. His voice rang loud and clear in her mind, but his lips hadn't moved.
"Yes, it's me," he mind-spoke.
Ginny shifted her eyes from side to side, scanning the room furiously in search for the true source of the Malfoy-like voice. Her brow furrowed, as she found none.

"I'm going crazy," she muttered aloud.
"Oh, is that why you brought her here?" Mrs. Weatherspoon nodded understandingly. "Insanity issues?"

"No...I meant-" Ginny began.

"She means she's crazy with love," Draco interjected smoothly. "We both are." He paused to wrap his arms around her waist and draw her in close to him with a sickening smile. "For each other."

Ginny glared at him, while mentally yelling at the Draco-like voice inside her head. "He's exaggerating a bit," she said, pushing out of his hold.
"Hey, Weasley. How YOU doin'?" There it was again, his little drawl in her head.

"Shut up!" she thought angrily, trying to repress the voice to no avail.
"Make me," he teased.
Ginny glared at Draco, uncertain if he was the true ventriloquist of if she really was mad. He retorted with a mischievous wink.
"Why are you glaring?" the Draco voice continued.

Ginny was about to respond when Mrs. Weatherspoon spoke up. "Well, you two have fun," she gushed. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"We're just looking," Draco replied.

The elderly witch smiled and withdrew to a small room at the back of the store, leaving Ginny and Draco to stand there in silence.

"Why are you glaring?" the voice asked again.

Ginny stood awkwardly next to Draco, freshly out of his abrupt embrace. Was she hearing things? Was Malfoy mind-speaking to her?

"Weasley, it's me, Malfoy."
"I don't believe you," she thought back stubbornly.
"Weasley, it's me, Malfoy," he said aloud. She looked up at him half in surprise.

"Do it again," she said.

"Weasley, it's me, Malfoy. This is the last time," he mind-spoke.

Ginny stared at him wide-eyed. "What are you doing?"

"It's this thing," he explained, picking up the pearl. "It's a mindball." The object's coat turned blue upon Draco's touch.

"Oh."

"We're forever linked by it now."

"Oh," Ginny said again dumbly. "Is that a good thing?"

"You can't lie when you're mind-speaking."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Do you want this or not, Weasley?" he asked.

"I don't know! It's kind of creepy and sudden. Isn't it dark magic?"

Draco sighed. "Let's get out of here." He withdrew a sack of galleons and dumped them on the counter. "Mrs. Weatherspoon!" he called. "We're leaving. I left you money on the table."

"What'd you buy?" she asked from the backroom.

"The mindball."

"Good choice. Have fun."

"Thanks. Bye."

"Bye, Draco. Bye, Ms. Weasley."

"Bye, Mrs. Weatherspoon."

And so Draco and Ginny left the shop into the bright winter morning.

*************

He looked disdainfully upon the girl kneeling on the stone floors, bound and soon to be broken. "You're trash, just like your mother," he said finally, hate glistening in his steely eyes.

Yvette opened her mouth, only to close it. She wouldn't waste her words on him. Her uncle bent down and scrutinized her face, his own breaking into a sinister grin.

"As a matter of fact, yes. This is another plan to aid the Dark Lord's rise to supremacy."

Yvette raised an eyebrow. "Harry Potter won't come after me, if that's what you're after."

"The Dark Lord wants more than just the Potter boy. Can you guess who he wishes to be brought here?"

"Ginny," she answered without thinking, her voice flat and grim.

"Very good my dear niece." There was something about the way he said 'dear' that sent shivers up her spine.

"Why Ginny?"

"Your muggle-loving friend opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"I already knew that."

"The Dark Lord is granting me a favor, Yvette. With you here, the Weasley girl will come to save your pitiful existence. After her will come her brother and with him, Harry Potter."

Yvette blinked. "How convoluted."

Lucius ignored this. "I'm sure you know the Virginia Weasley and my son are bound to each other by an ageless curse. If the order of the imprecation is not followed, both she and Draco will die."

"Not to mention you and the rest of the Malfoys," Yvette added silently.

"Along with the Dark Lord," Lucius continued. "The Weasley girl shared a piece of her spirit with him through his childhood diary. That ties him into the curse with the rest of us."

"So killing Ginny is going to solve everything," Yvette snapped, her voice coated with sarcasm.

"We won't kill her." His lips broke into another sardonic grin. "At least not right away. We plan to remove her soul and set it to flames, an experience similar to the dementor's kiss. With no soul bound to Draco, the curse is temporarily postponed until another pair is born."

Yvette didn't speak, but it didn't matter for Lucius continued.

"My family will not be soiled and the Dark Lord shall live and conquer all." Predictably, he chuckled mirthlessly after speaking.

"You're so full of shit, Lucius," Yvette spat with disgust.

Without warning, he grabbed a fistful of her soft, blonde hair.

"You're very beautiful, my little niece. That has gotten you out of many tight corners, but don't think for a second it'll save you from me."

Yvette winced in pain as his violent grip. She offered him her darkest glare. "Fuck off, Lucius," she gritted out. For a moment she thought he was going to slap her. Instead he smiled toothily, the wry cruelty shinning through his pallid eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said finally.

"Why? Too scared?" she countered without thinking. The sharp pain in her scalp had numbed to that from a dull knife, but resumed its intensity as Lucius pulled even harder.

He laughed. "We both know the answer to that." He leaned closer. "Yvette, does Weasley know you have Malfoy blood in you?"

She didn't answer. She should have seen this coming.

"Didn't think so," Lucius sneered. He released his hold on her hair.

"Wouldn't it be better to just let her marry Draco?" she blurted out, resisting the strong urge to massage her throbbing head where he assaulted her.

"No! My bloodline will not be tainted with muggle-loving sewage!"

"Don't be so melodramatic," Yvette replied matter-of-factly. "Besides, the Weasleys may be poor, but you are the lowest scum on this earth."

Now he did strike her, causing her face to sting with pain. "Don't forget that his scum you're talking about is your own family," he hissed.

Tears were welling up in Yvette's eyes, but they were stubbornly held back. How did she manage to roll into this mess? What did she do in her past life to deserve an uncle like Lucius? "Family?" she said, her voice strangled. "Were you my family when my father died, leaving us penniless? We came to you for help and - "

He stood up and kicked her in her stomach. She buckled over, the piercing blow of his steel toed boot stabbing her solar plexus.

"I was generous with my offer of servitude," he retorted. Two bright red spots of anger colored his otherwise pale cheeks.

Yvette glared up at his towering figure. "Generous?" she laughed without humor.

"You father should have never even looked twice at the half-blood you call your mother. You're nothing more than a mere accident, Yvette. An accident. You are what destroyed your mother's life, not me."

She tore her eyes away from his. The ground blurred through her tears as a bitter, salty drop fell to the floor. Was it only a few weeks ago that she relived the painful memory of her first visit to the Malfoy Manor after speaking to Draco? Who would know she would return to face his father...again.

"You know I'm right," Lucius chuckled balefully. He turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeons. The clang of the cell door signaled his exit, echoing emptily long after his departure.

Yvette looked around the dim dungeons for any means of escape. A single candle was the only thing that suggested hope, but like her chance of breaking free, it too burned low. The stone tiles on the floor were old and cracked, dappled with suspicious stains on the once smoothly paved ground. The rays of the pitiful candle barely reached the corners of the cell, faintly illuminating thick cobwebs. Yvette shuddered and focused her eyes on the flame atop the melting wax.

"Please don't come for me, Ginny," she thought. "If you do, all will be lost"

**********

"Damn! I lost it!" Draco cried, staring after the mindball as it rolled towards the gutters. With firebolt speed, he chased the glowing silver orb. Like the snitch, it seemed to avoid him with a vengeance. The sun was high in the December sky, its radiance glinting off the mindball's currently metallic coat.

"Lost what?" Ginny was startled by his sudden yell and dash after the shiny round object headed for the gutters.

"This!" Draco triumphantly held up the mindball, smiling at his own victory in the pursuit.

Ginny's eyes narrowed as his voice resonated in her mind. .

"Stop it," she said. The way his voice echoed in her head felt all too alien to be comfortable.

"Stop what?"

"Stop the mind dialogue. It's weird."

"The mindball lets us mind-speak."

"Apparently it does, doesn't it?" Ginny answered dryly. "Please stop it. This is scary. I've read an article about those things. They don't work."

"Well, it's working, isn't it? Besides, Mrs. Weatherspoon's charms always work." Draco was indignant.

"Is this dark magic, Malfoy?"

"Obviously, Weasley."

"You used dark magic on me?"

"Not really. The mindball is more of a spell on its self. It doesn't affect its users."

"Why did you want it?"

"Because you can't lie when you mindspeak," he explained. "And if we're ever in a tight situation, that would really help," he added silently.

"Right, whatever," Ginny began. "Look, this is DARK magic, Malfoy. You may have been around it all your life with your terri- your father and all, but I don't want anything to do with it, okay?"

Draco's eyes darkened as she mentioned his 'terrible father'. "Relax, Weasley," he said. "The ministry wouldn't allow Mrs. Weatherspoon to sell these if they were dangerous. All her charms are watered down versions of the real thing. Besides, most dark magic isn't dangerous. Not if you have control, experience and understanding."

"Which you must have a lot of," Ginny snapped irritably, unsure if her statement was sarcastic or not.

His eyes darkened another shade, but he only smirked. "Of course."

They continued walking towards 'Olivander's'. The diagon alley shop had a twin owner and twin shop in Hogsmeade.

"What's up with Mrs. Weatherspoon anyway?" Ginny asked. "How do you know her?"

"She was a Ravenclaw in Hogsmeade," Draco began. "Unfortunately for her, she fell in love with a Slytherin. He became a death eater. When he tried to back out of the deal, You-know-who killed him and widowed her. She put together a dark charms store and she's still there. My mother gives her money once in a while just to help when business is slow."

"Oh, she seemed nice."

"She is. When I was a kid, she'd take me to the winter flea market every year."

"What happened?" Ginny asked carefully.

"I grew up, I guess. My father wanted more control of my life and mother's forbidden to see her anymore."

They walked in a silence for a while.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said slowly. "My family is not great either. We're literally without a galleon, but there's the love, you know? Still, there are seven of us kids. Sometimes, I feel just lost in the shuffle. I'm just the youngest Weasley, another redhead. Ron's little sister."

"Too much money, too little heart is where I come from. You have it the other way around. I guess it's bad both ways, isn't it?" Draco pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"But would you change your family?"

"No," Ginny answered immediately. "No matter what, I still love every one of them. Would you change yours?"

"No," he lied.

Ginny slowly moved towards Draco. Finally she lay her head on his shoulder, half expecting him to push her away. He pulled an arm around her and drew her closer to him. She smiled and snuggled into him as they continued walking.

*************

End of Chapter Seven

Chapter seven was what we had before we started coming up with new stuff. We went through writer's hell trying to come up with romance. None of it came through in this chapter. We basically just posted what we had before. The good stuff is coming next chapter. At least, we hope it will.

My lord, you have no idea what we tried doing for Draco and Ginny. I think we spent two weeks writing this scene in which Draco and Ginny go out for ice cream. We made this nice old fashioned shoppe and everything, but then it wasn't going anywhere. So they went out to lunch instead. Ack! Both scenes will not be used. Okay, enough mindless blabbing.

Thanks for being patient with us.

Thank you all SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much for the reviews you gave us for chapter 6. I had literally bounced when I walked cuz I was so happy. Filled to the brim with euphoria. I smile, just thinking about it. I remember back when the fic started and we got four reviews on the first day. I was happy then. And now? *sigh* All I can saw is wow...... It's like being on drugs.

By now, their stroll had taken them to Hogsmeade's one and only wand shop run by Mr. Olivander's twin brother. Both were well known for their remarkable memory and quality wands.

Draco pulled open the smudged, foggy door. "Ladies first," he whispered through their silent link. Ginny blinked at the teasing voice that brushed her mind and turned to him with questioning eyes, unsure if it was he who had spoken or her imagination.

"Well, Weasley?" he asked. "Are you going in or not?"

Ginny smiled and sauntered into the murkily lit shop. Before her eyes could adjust to her surroundings, a thin, elderly voice addressed her.

"Why, it's another Weasley." The old shopkeeper's sapient green eyes met Ginny's with an unusual keenness considering his ripe age. "I was wondering when the little Weasley daughter would buy her first wand." He winked, clambering down a dusty ladder with surprising speed and agility. "I've been waiting." Under his tall, stiff, wizard's hat and silver hair was a face weathered with life and wisdom. Unlike Mrs. Weatherspoon who had blended into her mysterious dark-charms surroundings, Mr. Olivander jumped out. His bright smile clashed with the thick cobwebs that threatened to overtake what little space the store had for movement. His skin was no
longer smooth, but his youthful sagaciousness and savvy nimbleness rang louder than wrinkles and sunspots. Forest-green robes brought out sharp eyes and his tall stature painted him an ominous figure. He tapped his own maplewood wand and yards of measuring tape swirled from thin air and circled Ginny, meticulously measuring her as if for dress robes.

The elderly man then turned to the entering Slytherin. "Good morning, Mr. Malfoy. Fancy seeing you accompanying Miss Weasley."

"Mr. Olivander," he replied acknowledging the shopkeeper as the door swung shut behind him.

"My brother told me about you. If I'm not mistaken, your wand is a rather remarkable eleven and a half-inch sandalwood made from a tree nourished with dragon's blood and tears. The core a..., a basilisk heartstring encrusted with ground dragon scales and faerie dust," he recited proudly.

"It was the only wand made from that tree and dragon," Draco added nonchalantly.

"Quite right, my boy." He turned back to Ginny. "Now, about you Miss Weasley." With another tap of his wand, the swirling tape spun from the befuddled redhead and retreated almost sadly into an empty corner, dissolving into the wood paneled wall.
The shop was cluttered with long aisles and shelves that stood like an army regiment,
numerous and close together, stocked with dusty boxes. Piles of empty cardboard boxes and useless wand scraps were swept into a dark corner. Despite the disorderly and neglected state that plagued his shop, Mr. Olivander somehow managed to maintain a clear mind.

He steered Ginny into the second aisle from the right. "Of the six Weasley children that have purchased wands from my brother and I, four have found their wands in aisle two."

"Oh," Ginny answered, finding no better reply.

"Fred had a seven-inch pine with unicorn hair and mermaid scales. George had a seven-inch oak with mermaid hair and centaur horn. Ron and his nine inch maple wood and...," he trailed off, realizing his customer's smiling and nodding face veiled growing impatience. "Well, anyway, now there's you...the first Weasley-born female in over a millennium."

"I am?" Ginny asked, surprised.

"Oh, yes. Definitely. The last Weasley-born female died well over a thousand years ago."

Ginny's eyebrows rose as they entered the aisle, but she said nothing more.

"Ahh, here we are!" The old wizard bent over to pull a box out from the bottommost shelf. "Try this. It's an eight and a half inch holly with unicorn hair."

Ginny fished the wand out from its open box. The smooth polish gleamed just a bit
too much. It felt wrong in her hands - too short, too long, too heavy, too light. At the instruction of Mr. Olivander, she waved it about awkwardly. Nothing happened. She shrugged and replaced it back into its container, somewhat relieved that the wand didn't want her.

"Didn't think so anyway..." Mr. Olivander muttered, jamming the box back on to the shelf. "Here, try this. It's a seven-inch pine filled with centaur hair."

This wand felt better in her palm than the first, but it was plain and ordinary. Reluctantly, she let the wand dance through the air. Nothing. Not to be discouraged, Mr. Olivander pulled out another box. "How about this? A ten-inch oak with a phoenix feather." A feeling of idiocy set in as she once again found herself waving a stick sadly in the air.

She had to admit the ten-inch oak felt perfect, but apparently didn't like her back. Fine, it wasn't that great itself.

Mr. Olivander grumbled something Ginny couldn't hear. Draco did however and in
turn, chuckled snidely. She sniffed airily and looked away to Mr. Olivander. He was atop an ancient ladder, tossing down boxes at an alarming rate. His mouth ran even faster. With each new addition on the ground, he listed its attributes. "Maplewood and faerie wings. Eight inches. Cedar and elf hair, nine. Bamboo and griffin tail hair, seven and a half. Pale oak and..."

Ginny soon lost track of what he was saying as she frantically waved each wand before another box tumbled down. Ten minutes later, a collection of failed wands was piled in a crumpled heap in aisle two. "Let's try another row," Mr. Olivander decided. "Mr. Malfoy, clean this up if you please."

"I'm not cleaning anything. I'm a Malfoy. Malfoys don't -," he started, but the shop owner and his redheaded customer had already disappeared into the next aisle. Grumbling, he began to toss the wands into the boxes at his feet. Before long, aisle six was deemed useless as well as aisle one. Aisle four, five and seven followed suit. Draco had blatantly refused to clean up anymore rejected wand piles and Ginny's wrist hurt from hasty wand flicking. On the other hand, Mr. Olivander was in good spirits, leading them to the final aisle. "This is it," he said solemnly. "If we don't find it here, I'm afraid I won't have a wand for you. Aisle three holds our controversial wands, created out of experimentation. They may prove to be very disagreeable to the user."
Ginny nodded and sighed, vaguely reminded of the exhausting shoe shopping rampages she and Yvette often embarked on.

Alert evergreen eyes narrowed as they scrutinized each shelf, as if glaring at the dull, uniformed box surfaces would reveal the potency within. After a spell of grave concentration, he drew his own wand. "Accio ladder," he called. Slowly but surely, telltale thumps sounded off as the aged contraption made its way towards them like an elderly troll lady. Draco hastily shifted to the side as it slammed into the shelves, causing all its contents to tremble as in terror. Mr. Olivander scrambled up the ladder's rickety steps and carefully extracted a box. "This one was made with a trial core." He handed it to her, while scanning for the next wand candidate.

She snapped open the box and lifted a long, slim cherry wood wand from the satin padded depths. She felt warmth vent from its fragrant surface, travel up the length of her arm and spread throughout her body, like steam rising from hot chocolate over her face on icy January mornings. She smiled confidently and thrust the smooth wood into the air. Immediately, sparks flew from the tip, dancing around Ginny in a starry stream. They swirled from head to toe, dousing her in a cloud of light. The air stood completely still as Draco and Mr. Olivander covered their eyes from the vibrant bits of brightness surrounding her body. Ginny closed her eyes, absorbing the tingling aura of moonlit dust. When she lifted her lids, the magical particles were gone. The murky light prevailed once more. Ginny broke into a smile as she lowered her wand.

Mr. Olivander cleared his throat. "That one appears to suit you quite well. Would you like me to wrap it for you?"

"No, that's alright," Ginny replied, benignly tucking it into her robes. She faced Draco. "We should leave now."

He nodded. "How much do I owe you, Mr. Olivander?"

"Twenty-five galleons, as usual."

Wordlessly, Draco reached into his robes and handed to him a small sack of galleons. "There's a little something extra in here, since we took so much of your time."

"Oh, not at all. Don't worry about it," the old man replied, though pocketing the entire bag. "Thank-you."

Draco nodded and made his way out to the door. Ginny trailed behind him, a small bounce accentuating her steps. Before she exited his dim little shop, she turned to Mr. Olivander and flashed him a brilliant smile. "Thank-you," she said, sincerity in every syllable.

***********

The sunlight was blinding after the wand shop's musty atmosphere. Walking down the street, Ginny couldn't take her eyes off her new wand. It was her wand. It belonged to her. It fit her like it would no one else, not like some hand me down Percy had grown out of. This was a wand crafted for her and only her. She couldn't pull the dizzying jubilance from her face as she examined it from tip to tip. Unscratched and polished, the cherry wood practically glistened in the pale morning light. Breathing out another happy sigh, she pocketed it, knowing that HER wand was in HER robes. Abruptly, she turned to Draco and threw her arms around him.

While one eyebrow had been raised previously at her dazed smile and jolting strut, he was taken aback even more. Before he could open his mouth to say anything, she released him and skipped joyously down the street, nearly colliding with a few last-minute Christmas shoppers. He followed, uncertainty marking his footsteps. When Ginny had finally tired from skipping and the jubilance had dulled to a calmer euphoria, she plopped down on a street bench in front of a fountain, centered in the town square. She waited for him to catch up with her. When he did, she turned to him with a shy smile.

He looked at her coolly, "Yes?" he drawled. Her timid grin widened foolishly as she stared into his statuesque expression. No matter what angle his face tilted or what kind of posture he exhibited, Draco Malfoy was like a masterpiece by Da Vinci. No matter how deeply she peered into his eyes or how bright her smile, his perfect icy coat would never chip or melt. Yet, in some heart-warming way, she felt that he was her icy sculpture. Like the fairy princess's frog, he would melt into a handsome prince when immersed in her love. Not that he wasn't already a handsome prince. Draco Malfoy was so flawless, Ginny often found him hard to touch. Always calm and confident, always unreachable. Every word out of his mouth was calculated and every move he made was carefully planned. This earned him respect in Ginny's eyes, however grudgingly it was given.

"Yes, Weasley?" he asked again.

"Nothing, Malfoy." She shook her head. They stood and continued to travel down the dusty streets. At times, Draco Malfoy was down right infuriating, as he had always been till this year. Yet in his eyes, she was now more than another one of Harry Potter's groupies. Somehow, she became more than another Weasley, more than Ron's little sister. For once she was special, her own individual. But why? The question presided in the back of her mind as a dark shadow she stubbornly refused to shed light on. She enjoyed his attention. It felt liberating to be the pursued rather than the one pursuing. Heaven knew Harry never treated her as anything but a stuffed doll. At first, Malfoy's presence had been irritating and alarming. Then slowly, he crept into her mind when she didn't expect it. He became a part of her life. She expected him to help her with potion's homework late on Sunday nights. She expected the teasing half-smile that he wore when they argued, which was nearly every second of their time spent together. At least that part of the 'Weasley-Malfoy' relationship hadn't changed. They squabbled everyday over everything. But while verbal conflicts made up seventy-percent of their dialogue, they no longer grated her nerves. She became frustrated, because he was often right and because his wit was sharp, but never truly angry. It was like how she was no longer annoyed with Harry for ignoring her, Ron for being thick, Hermione for being insufferably smart, or Yvette for being beautiful. Malfoy was just Malfoy and he shared a friendship with her despite the headaches they caused one another.

Now why would Draco Malfoy, who was mentally acute, handsome, witty and suave be interested in her plain Weasley self? Unconsciously, she wrapped her arm around his and pulled herself closer to him, trying to absorb his bodily warmth.

As they traveled down Main Street, they passed a large, majestic shop. Ginny stopped their leisurely stroll to examine the display windows. In it was a heavy white-gold necklace encrusted with jewels. Along the diamond chain, ruby droplets hung symmetrically, progressing in size towards a large central pendant. Draco, whose arm she still hugged on to, also stared through the glass.

"Just because its expensive doesn't mean it's tasteful," he commented, condescension marking every syllable.

"Your existence proves that," Ginny muttered. "I wasn't looking at that monstrous thing anyway. I was looking at the painting to the right." It portrayed a young girl, clothed in a snow-white nightdress, radiating an aura of enchantment. Her head tilted upward, basking in serene moonlight. The peaceful glow splashed onto her face and brought out the subtle sorrow embedded in her face. Her eyes were closed as she stood on the edge of an elegant balcony, balanced atop the ivory railing. Her body leaned dangerously forward, silky blond hair blown behind her by the night's fierce wind.

Draco stared at the portrait, unmoved. "The shadowing isn't quite right," he stated flatly. "And the position she's in isn't physically possible. If her weight was so far forward, she would fall over."

Ginny continued to behold the painting, not phased by Draco's words.

"Besides," he continued. "It's a muggle painting."

"Can't you just appreciate something for its beauty?" Her voice had dropped to a whisper. Draco observed her silently as she studied the art, watching awe shine through blue and green flecks in her deer-like eyes. He turned back to the painting and nodded.
"Of course, Weasley," he replied. "Of course."

She made her way to the shop entrance and pushed it open, cautiously stepping inside. Within the interior of the sophisticated art gallery, magnificent statues were planted strategically to face the door. Ginny's eyes wandered over each one before focusing her gaze on the paintings that hung upon the stark white walls. Some depicted surreal, yet live scenes; others were of still life, literally. Fluffy clouds floated up near the wide cathedral ceiling, reflecting onto blue-gray marble floors. A simple staircase spiraled up to a hovering platform from the center of the room. Atop the platform was a marble counter and behind it sat a shrewd little man, head buried in a newspaper.

Ginny and Draco scanned the length of the store, taking in the simple, majestic beauty. Ginny took a step further into the room, her black-heeled clogs echoing delicately in the silent air. Draco stared not with her open-mouthed amazement, but with his usual self-indulged expression. However, if one were to look into his wandering eyes, they'd find silvery seas melted from once frozen ponds of gray.

The man at the counter glanced carelessly at them and resumed reading.

"...beautiful," Ginny murmured breathlessly. Draco could only nod in response. They remained mindlessly rooted for a few moments more. The paintings featured wondrous scenes from fairy tales and a child's imagination. Sun faeries danced across frozen lakes, fire blazing in a mystical trail behind them. Children rode on dolphins to visit beckoning mermaids.

At the back of the store, there was a collection of five paintings similar to the one in the front window. Ginny released Draco's arm, walking past all the fantastical splendor to the neglected corner. The paintings appeared to belong to a series with the same starry-eyed girl. In one, she smiled and winked, posed in royal robes while in another, she rested in a sunny, tropical garden. The third painting showed her swimming in the forest with elf-like grace. The next displayed her seated in front of a mirror, painting a portrait of herself. The last portrait echoed the eerie bittersweet softness of the painting in the display window. She held an infant in her arms, mother and child lost in death-filled melancholy as well as the joy of birth. They held each other's eyes, both sets violet and glowing with love for each other.

Ginny inched closer to the painting when a shout was interrupted her thoughts.

"Get away from there, girl!"

She jerked up hastily like a freshly popped piece of toast. The storeowner glared down from his perch. "You could never afford that," he sneered, in a nasal voice. "So why don't you leave before tainting my store with your poverty."

She pursed her lips in irritation. "How much is it?" she asked.

"More than what your entire family spends in a year for food, that's for sure." He snorted.

Ginny inhaled deeply, trying to squelch her growing fury. She stared at him angrily, but let her eyes return to the paintings. She exhaled wistfully.

"How much does it cost?" Draco spoke up, making his way to Ginny's side. The stubby man's eyes widened as fearful recognition dawned on his face.

"Mis..Mister Malfoy! I...I didn't see you there," he stuttered. "Were you interested in this painting?" He rushed down the staircase and scurried to their corner. He grimaced at Ginny. "Move out of the way, girl!" He turned his back to her rudely and faced Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, I painted all of these myself over years of hard work. You see, these are all one of a kind..." his whiney high-pitched speech trailed off as the attention of his prime customer was averted to the redheaded girl.

"Sir?" He stepped back, puzzled. Why would Draco Malfoy, who had royal blood in his veins consort with a mere Weasley? The tall, fair figure turned to the cowering shop owner and flashed a snarling smile.

"Excuse me, but I was talking to my friend, Virginia. She's the one who dragged me into this tasteless gallery. Show some courtesy to her or you'll lose a valuable customer."

He opened his mouth to reply, but Ginny cut him off. "Too late, he already did." She grabbed Draco's arm and flounced out of the store, dragging him behind her. They burst gratefully out onto the streets.

"Did you see that look on his face?" she laughed. "It was priceless."

Draco smirked. "He's a fake. He obviously didn't paint them."

"The paintings all had such different styles and the last one was definitely a self-portrait," Ginny agreed. "Still...whoever did paint them, they're beautiful." She glanced back briefly at the shop window where the lovely painting still hung. Sighing, she hurried to catch up with Draco who was already several paces ahead of her. Just when they had settled into a comfortable pace, she suddenly halted in her tracks and slipped into an empty alley. He continued to walk ahead, but she pulled him back to her.

"What is it now?" he snapped, only his voice lacked the proper irritation. He pushed away the urge to attempt the sentence again.

"I have something to tell you," she began. "I know this is abrupt and I would normally never say this to you, but it's proper at this point."

The way her eyes met his seemed to signify a gravity not unlike the mood of their conversation in the hospital wing after her second fainting spell. What was going to happen now? The way her warm, chocolatey depths poured into him through their gaze foreshadowed a monumental moment. Knowing Ginny Weasley, and yes he was beginning to know Ginny Weasley, she held true to her emotions. Whatever image lay upon the surface of her cappuccino eyes would reflect her next action. Her current expression was of growing infatuation. Suppressing a smirk, he mentally patted himself on the back. He had succeeded, she held her heart out to him in open hands. His family wouldn't die painfully or slowly after all. However, at that moment, the fate of the proud Malfoy heritage was the last thing on his mind. As she stepped closer to him, he could smell the sweet chamomile and jasmine scent of her hair and feel the warmth given off by her subtly trembling body.

Her lips parted slightly and she licked them gently, breaking into her trademark grin. Briefly, he wondered how her body could be so cold yet her eyes and smile so warm. She looked down and chuckled nervously. "I've been meaning to tell you this," she continued, peering up at him shyly. "Malfoy, I -" she paused again. "I-"

That was the breaking point for Draco. He knew what she wanted and he wanted it as much as she. "I-," she started again, but was interrupted by his lips pressing softly against her own. The two words she wanted to say remained at the tip of her tongue, but he brushed them away with his own. She leaned in willingly as he pulled her closer to him. Lost in the intoxicating moment, the outside world faded away and all they could perceive was each other. All that mattered was his surprisingly warm hold on her lower back and his long comforting fingers running through her hair. Then as tenderly as it had begun, it ended.

He pulled away, finally allowing a smirk to surface. Only somehow, it appeared as a full smile.

His lips left hers cold and numb, but his arms were still encircled around her waist. Gradually, she opened her eyes. Funny, she couldn't even remember when they had closed. He was smiling at her in a foolish manner and she returned to her original intention, finding her words once more.

"Malfoy, I...." she reached up and ran her fingers along his fine jaw-line. Her touch was as smooth as silk and as soft as feathers as it grazed his skin. Her gentle caress against his rough shaven texture was heaven on earth. "I just wanted to say-," she leaned in. "Thank-you," she whispered delicately before leaning in for another heady kiss.

Distracted by her tantalizing mouth, her words took several seconds to register. She tasted vaguely of cinnamon and strawberries, a combination foreign to him till now. Like the first, this kiss also ended too fast. It wasn't until afterwards that he realized
what she'd said.

"Thank-you," her voice echoed wispily in his memory. It was so soft he didn't believe he'd heard it.

"What?" he asked, brow furrowing slightly.

"Thank-you, Malfoy," she repeated.

"That's what you wanted to tell me?" he asked, half to himself.

"Yeah. Before you kissed me, all I wanted to do was say thank you."

"For...?"

"For defending me from that guy back there, for buying my first real wand, for being a friend..."

"That was it?"

She pulled away, puzzled by his sudden change of emotion. "What?" she asked, her voice growing livid. "What's wrong? Do you regret kissing me?"

A million responses bounced around inside his head but none made it to his lips. He looked confused, half-asking rather than his usual sureness.

Ginny stared at him questioningly for a moment and frowned. "What the fuck, Malfoy?" she spat. Their warm moment froze over and they returned to the cold winter day. She pushed out of his hold and spun away, annoyed. Where his hands had been were now cold, empty feeling spots.

Draco blinked, staring numbly after her. Suddenly, a wave of anger washed over him. "What do you mean, what the fuck?" He spun her around to face him once more. "What'd I do now, Weasley? Fucking tell me what I did wrong!"

Ginny's eyes widened in anger. "Why are you so upset?"

His grip tightened around her arms. "Why are you?"

"Malfoy, do you remember who I am?

His hands loosened. "Of course."

"Do you remember who you are?"

"What are you getting at?"

"My name is Virginia Weasley. You name is Draco Malfoy. Virginia Weasley and Draco Malfoy were kissing in a dark alley." Her voice rose to a hysterical pitch. "Why were they kissing in a dark alley? Why did he regret it afterwards? Why did-"

"Why does it matter?" he replied, fervency seeping through his even tone.

"Because," Ginny whispered, suddenly feeling very frail. "I think Virginia might be falling in love."

"With me?" he caught her helpless gaze.

He was pushing down on her with his sharp, gray eyes. It hurt. She couldn't move: she couldn't blink, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't respond. She probably couldn't stand up on her own. "With me?" he asked again, louder.

Meekly, she nodded. What was wrong with her? His eyes were icicles stabbing into her soul. They probed her insides, melting venom into her. She was numb, naked, mutilated into someone else. Then, as he leaned in towards her, she realized the venom wasn't poison, but a sweet, dizzying potion. She felt warm and safe as he melted himself into her, herself into him. And his lips were on hers again, hungry and eager. She was standing on toes now, pushing her mouth desperately closer to his, caressing the back of his neck and shoulders.

His large hands crushed her body into his own. She was so soft, her touch fitting his like a key into a lock. The world would freeze over if they didn't get closer, if they didn't close all space between their bodies. They were perfect for each other - ice and fire, hard and soft, yin and yang, antithetical. Reluctantly, he let her break away. She was so beautiful, with cheeks rosied by winter wind and lips bruised with kisses.

"We should get back," she whispered.

"We should," he agreed.

Ginny felt as if she were floating. Her only conscious thought was off Draco's arms around her, his comforting touch, his reassuring scent. She was afraid he was only a wonderful dream. She was afraid he was a lovely mirage that would wisp away if she did so much as speak. So she remained silent, nestled in his hold, letting him guide her down the busy street. Unfortunately, Draco was caught up in his own dreamy state and the floating couple crashed into a debilitated wooden booth in their path.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. The young witch within the thin swaying walls didn't answer, simply adjusting her thick black-framed glasses. Small, silky tendrils hung free from her messy bun unnoticed as nimble fingers crafted delicate patterns in the glass. Curious, Ginny cocked her head to the side. A lump of glass rested in the artisan's right hand, as her left flittered in open air. Gradually, the glass elongated, widened, and solidified into a gleaming, translucent faerie. The woman smiled, exhaling for the first time since she began. Ginny smiled in delight as the woman tapped her creation, making it dance across the booth. The figurine froze in place when she tapped it again. After seeing her customer's disappointed face, she tapped it again, letting the glass creature spring back into life.

"The figure's movements are etched into its design," she explained. "When tapped, it will go through the same series of movements. Some are created in sets and thus react to one another. This particular piece is part of a pair." She motioned to the rest of her sculptures, letting her hand fall upon a sable dragon fitted together with opaque glass pieces. She carefully placed it next to the tiny faerie. The silvery, transparent dancer was only the size of one talon, but she showed no fear of the ebony dragon curled up in sleep. She danced upon his jeweled body and down his glistening tail, her own delicate figure reflecting off his body. She awoke him with a gentle kiss. He opened his gigantic palm, where she continued her faerie dance. There, their movements were paused and their moment frozen.

"Well?" The woman asked. "This would make a great Christmas or New Year's gift."

By then, Draco's arms had snake back around her waist and she nestled into him. She shook her head sadly. "I've already finished my holiday shopping." And went broke in the process, she added silently.

"I understand," the merchant replied, with a wink in Draco's direction. He nodded and pulled Ginny away from the booth.

"We have to return to Hogwarts before supper. They'll notice we're gone," he said.

"How do we get back?"

"You'll see." He smirked.

"Down that thing?" Ginny stared down the open gutter incredulously. An unpleasant aroma wafted from its murky depths and something seemed to be sloshing around down in the sewer water.

"You grasp the concept well," Draco laughed. "Well, ladies first."

"I'm not going first. You go," she cried indignantly.

"Fine." With that, he prepared to leap in.

"Wait!" she grabbed him back. "Why don't we go together? The hole's pretty big. We'd both fit."

"We can't," he stated simply. "People will see us when we come out of the portrait together. They'll talk."

"I don't care. Do you?"

He sighed. He knew it would come to this at some point. "We can't go in at the same time, Weasley. Surely you understand why. The portal will lead you back into school through the painting with the cat. From there, just go to your dormitory. I'll contact you via mind-ball later."

"Fine," she snapped irritably. With that, she dived into the dark, foul depths of the gutter.

Draco smiled to himself. He wouldn't go back just yet: he still had a bit of business to attend to in Hogsmeade.

*****************

Ginny tumbled through the cat painting, nearly falling into Snape's classroom door. Ignoring the curious glances from third year Ravenclaws traveling down the hall, she angrily stalked back to Gryffindor tower. Why didn't Malfoy want people to see them together? He initiated their relationship. He was adamant about being her friend. Why did he want to hide everything now? Especially after they shared those heart-wrenching kisses in the alley. Sighing, she stepped into her room and noticed one thing right away. On her bed was a brown parcel addressed to her in familiar, drawling cursive.

Cautiously, she untied it and folded the paper back. Inside was the very figurine she had admired. The faerie was still dancing upon the dragon's palm, the setting sun making her small slippers glitter.

To Ginny, the faerie that dances in my life.