Veritas Amo

CHAPTER 6

Ginny thought the sheer pleasure would overwhelm her. Draco's soft lips moved gently, but insistently, over hers, and her hesitation was non-existent in responding to the touch of his hot mouth. Her own lips welcomed his - almost without her consent - as she abandoned herself to the moment. There was an alarm sounding in the back of her mind, warning her of the danger he could pose - both emotionally and physically, if he followed his father's Death Eater path - but it was so distant, drowned out by the sensations Draco's touch caused in her. As he lightly tugged her bottom lip between his teeth, sucking sweetly at the pink flesh, she let her body arch against his - away from the cool stone wall her back had been pressed against - and her hands came up to rest on his chest. He seemed to take that as an invitation, and slipped his tongue out to meet her swollen flesh. She gasped slightly at the contact, and he quickly seized the opportunity to slip his tongue between her parted lips, and into her own sweet, moist mouth. She heard him groan as her hands moved up to clutch his shoulders, while he deepened their kiss, and she sighed into his mouth in response. His hands, it seemed, could no longer remain inactive. His left hand came to rest softly on her hip, as the other traced lightly over her extended arm, up past her shoulder, and fisted itself in her thick, luxurious red locks.

Finally, the need for oxygen overpowered them, and they pulled apart, both breathing heavily, welcoming the air to their lungs. Draco buried his face in Ginny's silky hair, and moved the hand that had rested on her hip, to wrap his arm around her small waist. Ginny allowed him to draw her closer, all the while trying to gather her thoughts about what had just happened. He had kissed her... Draco Malfoy had kissed her.

And she had kissed him back.

And liked it...

Her short analysis of the situation was cut off by the feel of his scorching mouth, nipping, sucking, and biting its way along her throat. Instinctively, Ginny let her head arch the side, exposing the smooth skin of her neck so that he could taste more of her. She could not suppress the moan that left her lips as he used the arm that had been wrapped around her waist to pull her up slightly, and settle his thigh between hers, before pushing his body even closer to hers, all the while working his mouth against the flesh running between the lobe of her ear and her collar bone. It felt like every part of her body was touching some part of his, and it was as though her skin was on fire. In her elevated position, Ginny easily slid her hands up from Draco's shoulders, and into his own loose, soft blond mane. His attention was still focused on the creaminess of her neck, but Ginny wanted his lips back on hers. Feeling extremely bold, she used the hands that were locked in his hair to guide him back to her waiting mouth.

This time she initiated the kiss. It was much more passionate than the last had been, as any reservations either had held seemed to have deserted them - along with all thoughts of anything other than the person they were with. Ginny could feel her heart pounding within her; it created a lovely rhythm with the beat of his own hammering heart, which she could feel as one of her hands slid down from his velvety locks to rub against his toned back. They held each other close, lost in their searing kiss, gladly drowning in one another...

Until the screeching meow of Mrs. Norris warned of Filch's imminent arrival, causing them to pull apart quickly. After shaking her head slightly to clear her mind of the passion-induced haze, Ginny warily watched to see if Draco would look at her; or if he would regret this 'exchange' as he seemed to have the last one. He did not look at her; instead he swore softly, grabbed her hand, and pulled her along - presumably in the opposite direction of Mrs. Norris. Ginny stayed quiet, and let him lead her through various corridors, although she was the Prefect on duty, and had permission to be out in the halls. She needed to understand what was going on between them. She needed to speak with him... and now seemed to be as good a time as any. Draco finally pulled them into a classroom that Ginny had never visited before. As he shut the door behind them, and leaned against it - obviously listening for signs of Filch, or professors who could punish them - she looked around the room. It had most certainly not been used in quite some time, if the layer of dust was any indication; otherwise, it looked very much like the Transfiguration classroom. After her cursory examination of the old room, Ginny let her eyes fall back onto Draco, who was now looking at her with a guarded expression.

"Draco," she began nervously - she did not know what she should say, but she knew that something had happened between them, and they needed to talk about it. Draco, it seemed, however, did not feel that the situation warranted discussion, for he cut her off.

"It should be safe to go now," he stated quietly. "I should get back to the dungeons before anyone else can come across us, and your Prefect rounds are almost over for the night," he finished, vaguely flashing his high-priced wizards' watch.

Ginny was silent for a moment, considering their current predicament: they needed to talk, but she supposed he was right - now really was not a safe time to do so. They would have to meet up later; that is, if he did not brush the whole incident off as nothing. With everything that she had felt when he had kissed her, she prayed that that would not happen. She looked at him now, and nodded slightly to show her agreement to his suggestion. She tried to speak, to ask if he would seek her out at another time, so they could explore whatever it was that they had shared mere minutes before, but her voice seemed to have abandoned her. She did not know if it was fear of rejection, or her own returning sensibilities reminding her that he was Draco Malfoy, that caused her to remain quiet. Whatever the reason, she was left to watch as he smoothly exited the room, without glancing back at her even once.

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Draco stridently kept his profile forward-facing, and refused to give into the urge to go back to the girl he had just left, take her in his arms and snog her senseless. His hands were shaking in his effort of self-restraint, as he quickly and carefully made his way back to his dorm. He tried not to think about what he had been doing only minutes before-hand; where his hands had lain, where his lips had grazed...

Draco forced down a scream of frustration as he reached his room. He hastily readied for bed, stripping down to his boxers, then throwing on a pair of black silk pajama bottoms, before dropping his body down on the bed and drawing the hangings around to shield him from the moonlight. What had he been thinking? More importantly, had he been thinking? He had decided - after the lapse in control he had suffered earlier that evening - that he would stay away from Ginny Weasley. So how in Merlin's name had he ended up pressed up against her, her lips scalding his, in a dark corridor only a few hours later?

She was murder to his composure, havoc to his senses... He could not let this happen! He was Draco Malfoy, damnit! He should have made it clear, after the horrendous exchange that night - something within him twisted at defiling the kisses he had shared with Ginny by assigning such a label, but he pushed it aside - that there could be nothing between them. There would be nothing. Yet when he had looked at her, her hair still mussed from his roaming hands and her lips possessing a luscious 'bee-stung' appearance, he could not bring himself to say the words that would banish her bright presence from his life. Instead, he had fled... Again. This was getting to be a ridiculous habit of his - running from a Weasley...

Pathetic.

He would need to stay away from Ginny Weasley, he decided. That would be easy... if only she would move to another continent, that is. Draco pondered for a few moments the probabilities of her leaving Hogwarts before the end of his seventh year - it didn't look good. Draco sighed quietly, and turned onto one side, determined to get some sleep: Gods knew he would need to be rested to face the feisty red head tomorrow...

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It was after Ginny's last class the next day that she saw the blonde Slytherin again. He had been peculiarly absent from the Great Hall for both breakfast and lunch. And, despite herself, she was worried about him. She hoped fervently that his lack of presence had nothing to do with some wish on his part to avoid her after what had happened the night before. So when she glimpsed a flash of platinum heading towards the dungeons - after having spent a good quarter of an hour discussing her Charms essay with Professor Flitwick - she gathered every ounce of Gryffindor bravery within her and followed. The corridors were sparsely populated, as classes had been let out over fifteen minutes ago, so maneuvering through the halls was not so difficult for Ginny; but overcoming Draco's speed was. She finally caught up with the much taller - and apparently oblivious - boy before he could travel down the stairwell leading to the lower levels of the castle.

"Draco," she called out tentatively - and slightly breathlessly, although she suspected that that was the result of more than just her impromptu jog - hoping to halt his descent. She cringed, seeing him stiffen so abruptly. She knew from his posture that something was dreadfully wrong. She was considering fleeing the situation entirely when the blonde turned to face her, his eyes ice. She could literally feel the chillness of his look travel through her body, before she forced herself to shake it off. "Are you alright?" she asked quietly and, admittedly, a bit fearfully.

"Weasley." Oh, gods, how it hurt to hear him say her name like that - like she was some type of vermin, simply a disgusting annoyance to him. "I suggest that you refrain from approaching me... if you know what is good for you."

It sounded like a threat.

Ginny was not a savant of the Slytherin psyche, but she knew enough to understand that this was a serious warning... Whether disobedience would render punishment from him, or another source, she was uncertain. "And if I don't..." she decided to test the waters. Apparently, she had a knack for choosing the wrong course of action where this boy was concerned, for he grabbed her then, dragged her roughly down the stairwell, and pushed her through the first door they came upon.

Before the older boy could close the door behind him, Ginny quickly surveyed the room they were in, revealing a few mops, buckets, and containers of magical mess remover... They were in a broom closet. Somehow, Ginny didn't think Draco had brought her in there to partake in the activities that most other students sought broom closets out for.

As darkness engulfed the pair, Ginny tried to stay her growing temper. What did he think he was doing, man-handling her in such a way? Her anger was abruptly displaced by fear, however, as his large hands - with those amazingly long, elegant fingers that had run through her hair only last night - enclosed around her waist, and pushed her back against the wall.

"Weasley," his voice was a bit softer now, than it had been in the hallway, and he did not spit her surname out like it was one of Madame Pompfrey's vile potions. But he was still so cold. "I think you have misunderstood." Ginny stiffened in his harsh embrace, realizing what was coming. She had known that this was going to happen - she had expected it. Draco Malfoy cared for no one but himself. Girls were playthings to him... Hadn't she told herself that this was inevitable? Then why did this hurt so much? "It was one kiss, Weasley." There was no emotion in his voice at all, and Ginny willed her eyes to stay dry - he did not deserve her tears. "And it was a mistake. Call it... temporary insanity, if you will," he pushed away from her, releasing his hold while stepping back. "I assure you, it will not happen again." And then he was gone - he had opened the door and slipped out, once again not even glancing back to look at the girl he was leaving.

Ginny slowly slid down along the wall, letting the tears finally come now. As her bottom rested on the closet floor, she wrapped her arms around her bent knees, and buried her face in the bunched up fabric of her tatty school robe, trying to stifle the sobs that escaped her. A small sliver of light from the partially opened door dimly illuminated her surroundings once more. But Ginny saw nothing of this...

She thought her heart had been ripped apart when Harry had asked Cho Chang to the Yule Ball in her third year, leaving Ginny to painstakingly put it back together alone. But this, this was so much worse... She had had no idea that Draco's - no, Malfoy's - rejection could cause her so much pain.

She was so stupid. What had she expected? That he would strip off that icy armor of his, and pursue a relationship with her?

A relationship?

Ginny almost laughed aloud at the absurd notion, but her tears were still flowing much too strongly to allow that. Draco Malfoy did not have serious relationships with girls. He snogged them, shagged them, and left them. She knew this. She thought she had accepted it as fact, and had understood that there could never be anything real between them. Apparently, her heart had had different ideas...

Ginny's crying eventually tapered off, leaving her red faced, with puffy eyes, and the occasional tear streaking down her cheek. She stayed in her hidden position until the noise of the passing Slytherins, on their way to dinner in the Great Hall, roused her from her sorry state. Determinedly creeping onto her knees, she hastily wiped away the remnants of her tears as she stood. After slightly stretching the limbs that had stayed dormant in an uncomfortable position for too long, she stood at the door of the closet for a few more minutes, debating what to do next. She could not go to the Great Hall - she was certain she looked a mess, and she did not feel like fending off questions from concerned friends or housemates for the next hour or so. She could cast a spell to fix her appearance, but she really was not that hungry, so why put herself through the torture of having to pretend she was just fine? She deftly avoided admitting to herself that she did not want to see Draco Malfoy - preferably ever again, but she was realistically narrowing her objective down to tonight - and that the blond Prince was undoubtedly holding court at the Slytherin table at this very moment. He was probably laughing about her with his cronies right now... The spark of anger that erupted within her at that thought momentarily overwhelmed the immense sadness and heartbreak that had been weighing on her. Fury, it seemed, would be her saving grace.

Draco Malfoy would pay for this, Ginny decided.

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Draco lay on his bed, alone in his room. His dorm mates were at dinner now, but Draco had decided to skip this meal, just as he had skipped breakfast and lunch earlier that day. He had spent the day in somewhat of a daze, lagging behind in his travels to each class, seeking as much solitude as could be afforded on a school day.

Too much was happening... And everything was going wrong.

Draco shifted to lie on his stomach, burying his face in a soft pillow. At this point, he wasn't sure if self-suffocation was really such a bad idea...

He turned his head slightly after a minute, and let out a quiet sigh. His thoughts returned once more to the encounter he had shared with a certain small red head earlier that afternoon - it had been all he could think about since leaving her in the broom closet.

He should not have been so cruel - she would never forgive him for this, he knew. But, he tried to convince himself, this is how it has to be. And, really, she was only a Weasley. And they had only shared one kiss... Okay, maybe two kisses and some random necking, but it wasn't like he hadn't had better. The truth was, he hadn't had better, but Draco was not about to admit that to himself.

This was all Lucius' fault.

Draco had received a package from his mother early in the morning, which had slightly surprised him, as she had not sent those silly sweets since before Lucius had been sent to Azkaban, and regular post had not been due for another hour at least. But then Draco had read the accompanying letter: it was completely inconspicuous, and was written in the same forced sweet cheer that his mother's notes had held in earlier years.

The message had been clear: The bastard was back at Malfoy Manor.

Draco had felt utterly sick at the knowledge that Narcissa was once more under Lucius' watchful eye. And then he had realized what this meant for him: No doubt, daddy dearest would be checking in on his heir. Draco had no idea how to react to the man who had once been his idol, but now made him cringe in disgust. It did not take him long to realize, however, that it would be in his best interest - as well as his mother's - to pretend that nothing had changed.

And that meant getting Ginny Weasley out of his life.

Well, he thought sardonically, I'm fairly certain I accomplished that.

But, really, what had she been thinking, approaching him in the corridor? So what if it had been an otherwise empty hallway - anyone could have seen them together! They had been near the dungeons, so any one of the Slytherins could have been dragging behind in getting back to the common room... If someone had seen them, the news would undoubtedly travel through the school, and then straight to his father.

Draco suppressed a shudder at the thought of what Lucius could do to the small girl.

No, that man had already caused her too much pain already - what with that stunt he had pulled with Voldemort's old diary... Draco would not let it happen again. So if he had to be harsh and cruel to the little sprite to protect her, then he would.

Gods, he was starting to think like a Gryffindor, sacrificing his happiness for her safety... Perhaps he had miscalculated somehow: those Gryffs were definitely not known for their strength in strategy. Although, Ron Weasley's impressive defeat of McGonagall's chess set in first year had shown amazing potential in the tall, lanky boy...

Thoughts of Weasley, the ugly, only led Draco back to thoughts of Ginny. He had wanted so badly to kiss her again as he had held her tightly earlier - all too aware of the fact that he would probably never be able to hold her again - even as he told her that he felt nothing. He had forced his voice to reveal none of what he had been feeling, and had silently thanked every deity who would listen for the darkness in the broom closet - he could not have said those things to her if he had actually had to look at her pixie face, or into her bright eyes...

And she surely would have seen the lie plainly in his own features, as he had been unable to hide them behind his customary cool mask.

Draco rolled onto his side, and stared unseeingly at his drawn bed hangings. There was no use in ruminating over the situation now: it was over. And, really, it was for the best; he should never have been mixed up with her in the first place. Draco tried to be pleased as he accepted the truth - Ginny Weasley was out of his life...

Or so he thought.

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The last few weeks of the school year were marked by an increase in assignments, as the professors decided that more homework was the best way to help students prepare for final exams and their O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s. Draco found himself spending hours trying to stay on top of his growing workload, while simultaneously worrying over his mother and trying to avoid Ginny Weasley. He, Pansy, and Blaise - whom Ginny had apparently not told about their late-night kiss, or its aftermath - stayed in the Slytherin common room most evenings, carefully poring over books, notes, and old exams. In some respects, Draco was grateful for the distraction, which sometimes let him forget that his mother was currently at Lucius' mercy, and that any time that he did see Ginny, her eyes held something that looked suspiciously like hatred towards him. But she did not hate him; no, she could not hate him - Draco did not think he would be able to bear it if she did. His only relief came from the fact that they had not spoken to each other since the encounter in the broom closet, so any negative feelings she held for him now were only theoretical, and not confirmed. Draco unwillingly clung to the small hope that perhaps - just perhaps - things between them were not bullocksed up too unredeemably.

But he would never act on any reluctant desire he still held on to. He could not.

The Sunday before the week of final exams - or O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s for fifth and seventh years, respectively - found Draco once again immersed in an ancient tome for one of his classes. Pansy had given up an hour ago, complaining that she needed a break, or she would never get through the coming week; Blaise was also absent, and Draco tried not to think about the probability that he was spending the evening with the youngest Weasley. Draco had just finished one scroll of notes, and was reaching for another piece of blank parchment when someone sat down at his table - and it was his table, every Slytherin knew that. Draco was about to irately tell whoever was stupid enough to disturb his study time to bugger off - in a much more malicious, Malfoy fashion, of course - when the girl across from him spoke.

"Hello, Draco," she said in a soft, breathy voice. Draco looked up with a blank face - reserving his glare should the intruder continue to annoy him - to see Veronica Dolohov with a small smirk on her face. He only raised one eyebrow in response, silently questioning what the girl thought she was doing interrupting him. Draco knew that the fourth year girl was quite popular among some of his male housemates - even a few of the seventh year boys - but he had never really acknowledged her before. She was quite pretty, he had noted that much, in his preliminary analysis of his younger housemate - a procedure he had conducted with every Slytherin, before determining whether they were worthy of his attention, or his dismissal. The lithe, sporty girl before him - with her light brown hair, cut stylishly short, and her deep ocean blue eyes - had been saved from his customary dismissal by the fact that her uncle, Antonin Dolohov, was the reigning Lord of the House of Dolohov. Well, at least he had been before his status had changed from Lord, to prisoner of Azkaban, to escaped convict. House Dolohov was therefore currently under the control of Veronica's own father, Claude Dolohov, until her cousin Morgan Rutherford Dolohov was ready to take his rightful place at the Head in his father's absence.

"Dolohov," he replied curtly, when she had not immediately answered his unspoken query. She shifted slightly, and he could see the nervousness she was trying to mask behind her aqua eyes. He did nothing to ease her slight suffering, and simply smirked, still waiting - quite patiently, he would argue - for her excuses.

"Well, Draco," she began - purposely affecting her tone to be sweet and seductive, he noted - "I just saw you sitting here, all alone, and I thought you might want some company." She smiled, apparently pleased with the obvious invitation she had imbedded in her words. Draco's face betrayed no emotion. Really, the younger girl quite amused him, thinking that she could seduce him. But then a flash of another girl - one with hair the color of crimson - invaded his mind, and he could not bear to be in the presence of the Slytherin temptress a moment longer.

"You thought wrongly, I assure you," he bit out coldly, his voice holding a note of finality. Dolohov flushed slightly, obviously not having expected this response. Draco could not really blame the girl her confusion - only a few months ago, he would have gladly led her up to his room, and spent a few hours enjoying what she was offering up so willingly. But that had been before... well, before Ginny Weasley.

"Alright then," she attempted to redeem some face in his presence. He gave no visible response, so she stood then, still flustered. "Perhaps another time," she left the offer open, turning swiftly and strutting back to a group of girls from her own year in one corner of the common room. Draco watched her go, silently wondering what the bloody hell had happened to him that he was turning down sex from a beautiful girl. He let out a quiet sigh, and turned back to his assignment - he still had hours of work ahead of him.

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Ginny threw herself onto her bed after another long day of studying for her O.W.L.s. She could not wait for the awful exams to just be over. The only bright spot in the day had been the few hours of break she had taken with Colin, Luna, and Blaise. Blaise had actually been dragged along - he had repeatedly insisted that he had work to do, but the three fifth years had sequestered him to the Room of Requirement with them.

Ginny smiled slightly as she recalled Blaise's reaction to her crazy friends. While he knew Colin fairly well, he had never really spent any time with Luna before; so it was interesting to see their interaction. It was clear to Ginny that Blaise found the Ravenclaw quite amusing, but not in a cruel sense: He never once became impatient with her dreamy and wandering trains of thought, or when she became excited about theories that others would find utterly ludicrous. He was actually quite respectful, and even offered his own off-the-wall speculations. Ginny had known that Blaise - for all his Slytherin coolness, and noble Zabini high-class mannerisms - could be quite silly, really. But it had taken months before he had shown her that much lighter side to him. With Luna, it was almost immediate, and the two had spent most of the two-hour break discussing the sighting of the Lyserian Mammodor, reported in this month's issue of The Quibbler. It had been nice to see him so at ease, for Ginny had noted that he recently seemed quite distressed about something.

Oh, it was not obvious. He still looked the part of the cold-hearted Slytherin to the rest of the school, but Ginny could read the worry in his eyes. She had attempted to speak with him about whatever it was that was obviously bothering him, but he delicately told her that it was too soon for him to say anything. But he had promised to come to her if the situation - whatever it was - persisted...

Ginny knew that it had something to do with Voldemort. What else could have Blaise in such a state of distress? And, she knew, though he was a Slytherin, he did not support the Dark Lord. She understood that that could not be an easy position for him.

That was partially the reason she had not told him about what had happened between her and Dra - Malfoy. Blaise already had enough to concern himself with without adding the burden of the knowledge that his best mate had hurt her. She knew Blaise would have confronted Malfoy, and their friendship may have suffered. As it was, Ginny was quite certain that Blaise suspected that something had happened between her and the Malfoy heir, as they had avoided each other since that fateful exchange in the broom closet. Blaise perceptively refrained from saying anything regarding the matter to her directly, though - a fact for which she was immensely grateful.

There was so much going on around them, everything was changing or falling apart, and Ginny knew that it was not only her world that was in turmoil. At a time of such danger and uncertainty, she refused to be the cause of a rift between Blaise and one of his oldest and closest confidants. She had seen their interactions, and knew how they supported each other. These were difficult times, and they needed to rely on one another now more than ever before. So she let her anger with Draco Malfoy lay to rest...

For now.

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The O.W.L.s had been absolutely horrific. Well, Ginny admitted to herself, it could have gone much worse... At least it's over now, she thought to herself, as she let her back rest against the trunk of the ancient willow by the lake, shaded from the sun. Beside her, Colin and Neville were engrossed in a game of wizard's chess, and Luna was reading the latest issue of The Quibbler. Ginny herself had brought outside a copy of Les Miserables by Victor Hugo - it had been one of the books Hermione had given her for her Birthday/Christmas, and she had been unable to really immerse herself in the thick muggle novel when she had class-work and O.W.L.s-preparation to contend with.

Around her, Ginny noted that the grounds were filled with students lazing about. As exams were over, and students now had a free week before grades were posted, many were taking advantage of the warm weather and the scenic landscape. Many professors were out on the grounds as well, adding security to the heightened magical measures already placed around the grounds. Hogwarts may have been the safest place in the wizarding world, but considering the current state of the magical world, that was not saying much... Still, Ginny thought it was nice that, at least here, she and her classmates could enjoy the first days of summer, without constantly worrying about the threat of imminent danger.

Ginny smiled slightly as her vision landed on the Gryffindor trio: Ron and Harry were attempting to extract Hermione from the large book she was currently obviously engrossed in. The trio was settled in a position farther down the lakeshore, away from Ginny and her friends. She had not really spoken to any of the three sixth years for weeks now, and she found - much to her annoyance - that she missed their occasional company. It felt like it had been ages since she had heard one of Ron's rants regarding the Chudley Cannons' chances of winning the Quidditch World Cup, or one of Hermione's lectures on some obscure spell or artifact, that could easily put any audience to sleep. Ginny even found herself missing Harry's quiet manner.

But she had asked them to stay away from her - at least, until they were willing to accept that she was not a child who was their responsibility to look after and right to order around. Until they came to that realization, Ginny refused to let her slight feelings of longing influence any of her decisions. She would not approach them; if they missed her at all - which was proving to be doubtful by the look of things - then they could work to mend their relationships from there. Ginny was certainly not looking forward to another summer cooped up with the three older Gryffindors, but she refused to retreat on her demands...

"Ginny," came Neville's voice. Ginny quickly shifted her eyes away from where they had been trained on the trio, and settled her gaze on the pudgy boy next to her. "Do you want to play a game of wizard's chess?" Ginny simply smiled and nodded, putting aside the book she had been holding quite uselessly in her hands. Colin and Luna seemed to be debating the usefulness of creatures such as Blast-Ended Skrewts - though Ginny, for the life of her, could not imagine why. It was about halfway through her game with Neville - in which the older boy was losing terribly (Ginny had learned the game from Ron Weasley, after all) - that a very unwelcome interruption came in the form of one very overgrown ferret.

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"Well, well, if it isn't the Weaslette, and her little friends," Draco drawled, all the while mentally cursing Blaise for forcing him to accompany him onto the heavily-populated grounds, and, more specifically, for bringing him directly to the girl he had been avoiding - successfully, he might add - for weeks now.

"Really, Draco, isn't that getting a bit old?" Draco could see the frustration mounting behind his friend's golden eyes. Draco decided it might be best for him to remain quiet for the rest of the exchange. So he decided to pretend that he was utterly uninterested in the conversation occurring before him, and focused his gaze away from the group under the tree. If he had bothered to even glance in Ginny's direction, he would have seen the flash of pain in her eyes, before it was quickly smothered by a controlled veil of anger. But, alas, he was quite determined to appear enthralled in - yet still utterly indifferent to (as only a Malfoy could) - the activities of the other students. He vaguely recognized that Blaise was questioning the fifth years regarding their thoughts on the O.W.L.s, but only listened long enough to hear Ginny Weasley simply sigh in relief that she was glad it was over.

Draco tried not to think of the last time he had heard her sigh, while his lips were on hers, her hot, sweet breath blowing into his mouth...

Gods, he needed to get away, before he went utterly mad trying to keep his hands off of that annoyingly tempting red head.

He was almost grateful - almost - when the great Gryffindor trio showed up on cue to "rescue" the youngest Weasley from the evil Slytherins.

"What do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" The Weasel was turning that horrid shade of red again. Once more, Potter and Granger flanked either side of him. Draco found it quite irritating that he was being verbally assaulted for simply being in the same vicinity as Ron Weasley' little sister. Amusedly, he wondered what the Weasley elder would do if he ever found out how close Draco actually had been to the small girl...

"We were talking to Blaise, Ron, not Malfoy," Ginny said; none too kindly, either. Draco hid the wince at hearing her say his surname in such a way, when at one time she had let 'Draco' fall from her lips so enchantingly. Instead, he decided to divert his thoughts by studying the palpable anger present between the two siblings - this was obviously something they had fought over many times before. "Besides, I thought I had made it quite clear that whom I speak with is none of your business. You can go complaining to the whole world, and I still won't change my actions just to suit your preferences." She, as well as her three friends, had stood by now, facing the Dream Team, while Draco stood aside with Blaise and simply watched the dispute. Well, as simply as Slytherins do anything... meaning he watched carefully, noting any weaknesses in either party. Ginny was definitely the more controlled of the two Weasleys, Draco decided.

"It is our business if you are consorting with the children of Death Eaters," Potter cut in. Draco clenched his fist around his wand, desperately tempted to bring the scar-head off of the high hippogriff he insisted on preaching down from. Potter knew nothing of what it was like to grow up the son of a Death Eater. How dare he presume that Draco's uncontrollable parentage made his company unworthy?

"I suggest, Potter," Blaise's voice was smooth and calm, but Draco could hear the rage he was containing, "that you verify the facts before you go around accusing upstanding wizards of being Death Eaters. I assure you, my father is not a Death Eater." He paused, then, and looked at Ginny for a moment, before glancing quickly at Draco and continuing. "And even if he had been one, I don't see how that reflects on the person that I am. It is our choices that make us who we are, isn't that so? Or is that a philosophy only reserved for Gryffindors," - once more he spat the name - "or those whom you choose worthy?"

"And what choices have you made that should make us consider you worthy of our trust?" Granger asked, sounding obnoxiously certain that Blaise would not have a satisfactory response to her query.

"I never asked for you to trust me," was his succinct reply. He smirked at Granger's annoyed expression, and continued. "I have no interest in your judgment or opinion of me. I have proven myself to the only people who do matter," he finished, looking pointedly at Ginny Weasley. Draco's stomach twisted oddly when he saw her direct that adorable smile of hers in Blaise's direction. He quickly looked away, and was surprised to see that Granger actually looked thoughtful. Potter's suspicion was still plainly visible in his features, and Weasley, the large, still appeared upset, but at least he seemed a bit calmer now. Draco concluded that the oaf had finally figured out just how close Ginny and Blaise were, and that their relationship would not change merely because he disapproved.

Ron Weasley was not stupid, Draco conceded mentally, though he would never admit that aloud to any soul. The boy may not get the best grades, and he was utterly pathetic to be tagging along as Potter's side-kick, but his potential had been proven in his first year, during the Dream Team's quest for the Sorceror's Stone. He could have been great... if he had been a Slytherin. His Gryffindor fool-hardy bravery - as well as his blind loyalty to Potter - prevented him from reaching any true success of his own.

But Draco would not forgive the boy his idiocy when it came to his sister. Draco had watched them detachedly for years - as he had watched many students in the school, much the way his father had taught him. Lucius Malfoy believed it was important to be aware of all individuals in one's surroundings; he had taught his son that careful observation was the best way to discover weakness, and how to use that weakness to his advantage. So, while Draco did not necessarily know the names of most of the students in the castle, he had impressively identified and inventoried the failings and limitations of the majority of them.

And Draco had clearly noted that Ron Weasley was utterly oblivious to his sister, unless she did something that he disapproved of or her life was in mortal peril. Their relationship seemed to have improved a bit in his fifth year, when Ginny was on the Gryffindor quidditch team as Potter's replacement. But then it had reverted back this year, for reasons Draco had yet to identify. Ginny had become much better at hiding the pain caused by the rejection as she grew older, while in earlier years, her sorrow had been quite apparent. While Ron Weasley's concern was temperamental, Draco had to admit that the boy did genuinely worry about the small girl - when he found the time to acknowledge her existence, that is.

Looking at the Weasel now, however, Draco saw a combination of emotions he had observed in the tall boy only once before, when little Ginny Weasley had been 'taken' into the Chamber of Secrets.

It was sorrow... And regret.

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

The short altercation involving six Gryffindors, two Slytherins, and one Ravenclaw had ended quite abruptly with the arrival of a very familiar snowy owl. The hasty exit of Harry, Ron, and Hermione was only matched in speed by the farewell of Blaise, as Dra- Malfoy stalked off darkly back towards the castle, obviously having had enough of the sun for one day. All in all, Ginny and her friends had decided that the exchange could have gone much worse.

After spending another half hour out on the grounds - with Ginny winning the chess match against Neville - the four students started to head back inside. Ginny had successfully avoided thinking about Draco Malfoy for the past thirty minutes, but now, as she walked idly beside her silent companions, she could not keep her mind from wandering to the blond prat.

He had not even looked at her! She would not have acknowledged him, even if he had, but that was beside the point... Ginny wanted him to suffer the way that she was suffering. The pain that had pierced through her that afternoon in the broom closet still ached like a raw wound when the Slytherin Prince was in her line of sight. She had worked valiantly to keep her anger burning - to not let the pain take over. She only prayed that he could not see how much he had hurt her when his eyes met hers...

Of course, he would actually have to look at her for her efforts to even matter, but he apparently had better things to occupy his time. Ginny bit her lip as she thought of all of the girls he had probably been with since he had so efficiently dumped her. Had he even 'dumped' her? Really, what they had shared had certainly been no serious relationship - no matter how serious Ginny's feelings had been.

And, admittedly, still were.

Ginny gratefully shoved thoughts of Ferret Boy out of her mind when she, Colin, and Neville entered the Gryffindor common room - having parted ways with Luna minutes before - to see the Fabulous Three huddled together in the far corner. She considered then what Hedwig may have been carrying for the trio. Probably confidential Order information, she thought sarcastically, with more than a hint of bitterness. She abhorred being treated like an invalid where the war was concerned - she had every right to help the cause that she believed in.

Coming to a swift decision, Ginny signaled for Colin and Neville to go on to their dorms, as she stealthily approached the trio. Ginny was quite adept at remaining unseen if she willed it - and, unfortunately, even if she didn't. How else could she have effectively escaped notice for so long in her first year, while being possessed by Riddle? Little first years usually don't go wandering around dark corridors all by themselves - the Gryffindor trio having been an exception, of course.

"I don't understand how Dumbledore can say not to worry about this." Ginny indistinctly heard Harry's agitated voice, as she settled herself on a nearby couch. Slouching down a bit, she mouthed Exaudio, the central active charm used by Fred and George on their extendable ears.

"Well," came Hermione's voice clearly, "perhaps we should just let it go. Professor Dumbledore must know something about all of this that we don't. He would not just stand aside and let someone be hurt!" she argued.

"He stood aside and let Sirius die," Harry bit out, obviously quite upset. Ginny was not at all surprised by the anger in his tone, but she was a bit shocked by the accusation towards the Headmaster.

"Harry," Hermione began, trying to placate the aggravated boy. "Professor Dumbledore was not responsible for Sirius' death; you know that. Yes," she admitted, "he should have been more honest with you from the beginning regarding the prophecy, but he only did what he thought was best."

Ginny barely had time to contemplate what Hermione meant by 'the prophecy' - it couldn't be the same prophecy that Voldmort had been trying to retrieve from the Department of Mysteries, could it? - before Harry cut in irately once more.

"So maybe he's making the same mistake again! We can't just stand aside and wait for Voldemort to find her!" At the back of her mind, Ginny was sure that Ron was cringing at Harry's casual use of the Dark Lord's name. But her primary thoughts were too focused on what Harry had just revealed to focus on such minor details.

Harry was worried that Voldemort would find 'her'... obviously some girl that he was looking for...

No, it could not be the same...

Although, that would explain the dreams... Was it possible that the dark-haired girl from Ginny's dreams was the same one the trio was trying to help now? Ginny was tempted to sit up and say something, to verify whether the girl from her dreams could be the same one that Voldemort was after, but she stilled as she heard Ron speak.

"Are you sure about this Harry? I mean," he went on, sounding a bit flustered, and probably suffering the heavy glare of the Boy Who Lived, "what if it's only another trap?" Things were very quiet for a few moments, before Harry spoke again, his voice thick with barely-controlled rage.

"The flashes of thought and feeling were so quick and fleeting," he began, "and I'm certain that Voldemort did not mean to reveal them to me. I only seemed to see a bit of his mind when he was extremely angry or agitated, which he has been increasingly." He paused for a moment, and Ginny assumed that he was gathering his tenuous control. "I know what I saw, even if it was in my dreams," he continued quietly, much more calmly. "He is looking for a girl - I don't know why, and I have no idea where she could be -"

"Wait!" came Hermione's excited voice. "Let me see that letter once more," she commanded, and Ginny was certain that the boys would comply, as it sounded like Hermione had come to another one of her brilliant conclusions. "Yes... hmm... yes, yes!" Ginny decided it was safe to bet that Hermione had definitely made a discovery. "Here it is!" Ginny could hear the rustling of parchment, and realized she would now be privy to Dumbledore's own words. "'I advise you not to concern yourself in this matter. While appreciative of your assistance, I assure you, that I have a few other sources keeping me updated on Voldemort's activities. I know what it is he searches for, and I assure you, it is as well-protected as possible.'" There were a few moments of silence, while the boys were silent, and Ginny thought fervently. If what Voldemort is searching for - more specifically, the girl - is 'as well-protected as possible,' then that must mean that -

"She's at Hogwarts!" came Ron's triumphant cry.

"You're right, she must be." Harry sounded quite awed.

"Right, so all we have to do now is figure out which girl he is after," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "We can't even be certain that she is a student her. For all we know, she could be a professor, or Dumbledore could have simply hidden her somewhere in this large castle - he does know this place better than anyone."

Ginny heard Harry sigh, sounding defeated.

"Cheer up, mate," Ron said consolingly, and Ginny bit back a smile at his can-do front, "at least we have the location narrowed down."

"And you'll really have to keep up with the Occlumency lessons," Hermione cut in seriously. "We don't want Voldemort learning what we know, now do we?"

"Alright," Ginny listened as Harry conceded. If she had looked over to the trio then, she would have seen the grimace on the boy's face. "If it will help protect this girl from Voldemort, I guess I could put up with Snape for a bit longer."

The trio stayed seated, discussing possible courses of action for finding the girl for a few more minutes, before moving on to more inconsequential matters. Once she was certain that she had gleaned all of the relevant information, Ginny whispered Finite Incantantum, and used the time in which she had to continue to remain hidden to think over all that she had just overheard.

So Voldemort was looking for a girl... Her dreams had been too frequent, too persistent, and too disturbing for Ginny to pass the connection off as mere coincidence.

It had to be the same girl...

She tried to recall as much of her dreams as could be revealed to her conscious mind. The girl had long, dark hair, but her facial features never materialized in an identifiable way. Still, Ginny was certain that the girl was quite young - around her own age, if not a few years older. Ginny concentrated on the image in her mind, but the more she focused, the foggier the figure became.

Growing frustrated, she turned her attention to considering the situation a bit abstractly. While she was grateful that she now finally had a way to help fight against the Dark Lord, she was perplexed by her reception of the images. There had to be a reason that the dreams - no, visions - were coming to her. It could have been due to her experience in first year... But then why had the dreams not started until her sixteenth birthday?

"Ginny." Ginny started abruptly at hearing her name and quickly looked up to find Colin looking down on her, with a deviously pleased grin on his face. She quickly scanned the corner of the common room where the trio had been seated, only to discover that they must have left sometime while she had been lost in thought. She looked back to Colin then, and glared slightly at his obvious amusement.

"Colin, did you have to sneak up on me?" she chastised. He chuckled then, and Ginny's glare only strengthened.

"Oh, believe me, Gin," he said after calming a few moments later, "I did no 'sneaking.'" He made little quotation marks with his fingers at the last word. "Wild hippogriffs could have flown through here, but you still wouldn't have noticed, judging by how absorbed you seemed by that wall," he laughed a bit more as he gestured to the location her eyes had rested while she had been considering the ramifications of what Harry, Ron, and Hermione had unwittingly revealed to her.

"I was thinking!" She pointed out, huffing and pouting like a petulant child.

"Alright, alright," Colin decided to let the matter rest, lest he be forced to argue about it with the belligerent red head for another hour or so. "Just so you know, you only responded the fifth time I called your name." Ginny simply shrugged, realizing that she was defeated. She sat up from her hidden position, and moved over a bit, signaling for Colin to join her on the sofa. He accepted the invitation, and once he was settled, asked - quite tentatively - "So, learn anything interesting?"

Ginny simply raised a single eyebrow, and let her lips form a small, but satisfied, smirk.

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

Draco lay awake that night, dread regarding the coming summer weighing on his senses, and keeping sleep at bay. Lucius would be awaiting his arrival eagerly, he knew. Draco tried not to let his thoughts linger on what lay ahead of him, but try as he might, there was very little that could distract him from his impending doom. Perhaps 'doom' was bit of an exaggeration, but for a boy who no longer had a desire to bow to a half-human self-proclaimed Dark Lord, the idea of being shaped into a loyal Death Eater by his father was not at all appealing.

Only one thing - or, person, really - could successfully wipe thoughts of Lucius and Voldemort out of his mind: Ginny Weasley.

His mind turned over the encounter out on the grounds, earlier in the day. She really had looked so alluring, sprawled leisurely on the grass, lazily taking in her surroundings. He had almost called out her name, before catching his blunder before it could form, and quickly covering with his patented smirk and a ready insult. Not that his presence seemed to affect her in any way - it seemed she could loathe him at a distance just as well as she could loathe him when he stood before her. He preferred to avoid acknowledging her apparently negative feelings towards him, even if it meant ignoring her presence - well, as much of her as he was capable of ignoring, at such close range...

He had noted, against his will, that when she stood, the sun had danced across the different shades of red in her hair, highlighting copper, auburn, and fire-red strands. Her eyes had shone brightly, while she confronted her brother, the gold flecks growing prominent. And her lips... oh, the way she bit her bottom lip to keep from speaking when she was beyond irritated! He could still remember the taste of that delectable flesh...

Draco abruptly stopped that train of thought - it could lead to no good. That kind of thinking had been exactly what had driven him to charge back to the castle immediately after the exchange! This infatuation of his was becoming absurd.

He had decided that they could not be together. It had been the best course of action, really. And she was a Weasley...

Draco sighed. The sneering reminder of her surname did little to abate his desire for the small girl any longer. He was painfully aware of the fact that he did not care to define her by such labels - she was only Ginny to him.

Gods, this had to stop!

Perhaps some good would come from this summer, after all - he certainly wouldn't have to see that flaming red hair or those gorgeous cocoa eyes during the holidays. Hopefully, he would be able to fully eradicate his system of any soft feelings towards the girl. Yes, that should work...

Yeah.

Right.

Draco shifted onto his side, hoping that this new position would be more conducive to sleeping - an escape from the torturous thoughts of the forbidden Gryffindor. Morpheus, however, did not arrive for another two hours, and when he did, he only brought more dreams of a young red head, who seemed to linger just out of Draco's reach.

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

The morning of the scheduled journey of the Hogwart's Express back to King's Cross Station found Draco and Blaise quietly walking the grounds of the great school, both lost in thought. It was early yet, and sleep had deserted both boys, as they were each plagued by the expectations of the coming summer. As they reached the shore of the lake, Blaise stopped. Draco paused as well, turning to his old friend and raising a questioning brow.

"He has decided to join them." That was all that he said, before looking away from the blond boy, out onto the rippling surface of the water. He did not have to say anything more - Draco understood exactly what he meant: Blaise's father would be joining the ranks of the Dark Lord.

This information did not surprise Draco too much. Voldemort's forces had been extremely active since the massacre of the New Year. Reports of muggle and wizard killings alike were constantly in the Daily Prophet. Mr. Zabini's choices were limited, as Draco knew how dedicated the man was to his family, to his father - the current Lord of the House of Zabini - and to his nephew - the heir to the title. If Damien Zabini were to join the Death Eaters, the House of Zabini would once more benefit from the protection it had enjoyed in the First War, when Agostino Zabini had taken the mark. It was, logically, the most beneficial decision.

Draco could see that it did nothing to alleviate Blaise's distress, however. "At least you are safe from his recruitment now," he pointed out. Blaise simply scoffed, and turned to look at Draco once more, his golden eyes darkened.

"Are you really so certain of that?" he asked, the bitterness evident in his tone. Draco stared unflinchingly into the other boy's eyes.

"No, I suppose I am not," he admitted quietly, so as not to further incite anger from Blaise, whose emotions, Draco knew, were already in turmoil. "But, it would be foolish not to consider all of the possible repercussions of this decision. It is quite possible that the Dark Lord will be satisfied with the participation of your father alone. It is also possible, once your father has pledged his allegiance, that He Who Must Not Be Named will expect the same from you, even more so than previously," Draco explained. "I can't be certain, but until we know for certain, I advise you not to brood on it." Blaise simply shook his head, and turned to head back to the castle. He stilled when Draco laid a supportive hand on his arm. "Rest assured, Blaise, no matter what lies ahead, you are not alone."

Blaise tilted his head slightly, and met Draco's mercury gaze. "And will you remember the same?" he questioned, his voice plainly curious - not bitter or angry. Draco moved his hand back, and nodded curtly.

"I will," he made the solemn promise.

Silence reigned yet again during their stroll back to the castle. Once inside, the two Slytherins went straight to the Great Hall for breakfast. The large room was only semi-filled when they arrived at their places at the Slytherin table. Pansy had already begun her meal, occasionally chatting with Millicent Bulstrode. Draco took his seat beside Pansy, while Blaise took up the position on the other side of him, as per usual.

"Good morning, boys," she greeted, though it was clear in her tone that she was curious as to where they had gone off to earlier that morning.

"Pansy," was Blaise's only response, before biting into his toast, while Draco simply nodded to the girl. He bit back a smirk when he saw her pout slightly, realizing that she would not receive an answer to her query now. Draco busied himself with filling his plate with eggs, toast, and bacon, and then proceeded to eat only a small bit of the pile in front of him, as he was not hungry at all.

Growing bored with his meal quickly, Draco decided to head back to his dormitory, to check once more that he had packed all of his things in his trunk. He absolutely hated that the house elves here would not do it for him, like back at the Manor... Before he could stand to leave, however, Veronica Dolohov appeared before him, and seated herself across from him.

"Hello, Draco." She was using that inviting tone again. Draco sighed inwardly, and gave the persistent girl a small smirk. He was sure that she said something more, but, at that moment, he was distracted by a sight at the Gryffindor table, where Seamus Finnigan was sitting much too close to Ginny Weasley, for Draco's liking.

What the hell does that git think he's doing? Draco fumed. And where in Hades was that over-protective oaf Ron Weasley? His sister was being practically mauled by a hormonal teenage boy for gods' sakes!

"Draco?" he shifted as Veronica Dolohov moved into his line of sight, intent on keeping his eyes trained on what he considered as debauchery at the Gryffindor table. Unfortunately, Dolohov only altered her position to compensate for his adjustment, and placed herself directly in the forefront of his vision once more.

"What is it?" he bit out testily. He was certain that Blaise and Pansy found his lack of control over his emotions quite amusing - he did not have to turn his head to see their smirks. Dolohov looked a bit taken aback, but she recovered quickly in the face of his aggravation. Impressive, Draco thought. "I was just saying how awful it would be, not seeing you all summer," she pouted a bit, and laid a hand on his arm, as it rested slightly on the table in an appalling display of bad manners. The Weasley girl had him so turned around that he was forgetting proper etiquette now!

Draco stiffened at the younger girl's touch, and quickly considered his options. Coming to a decision - which had been influenced greatly by Draco's subtle glance over to the Gryffindor table, which had revealed Ginny laughing at something the idiot beside her had said - he placed his own hand above Dolohov's and focused his attention on the girl before him. "Well, then, perhaps we should make up for all that time apart, before we leave." The implications of his offer were clear, and Dolohov smiled in satisfaction as she stood. Draco followed her example, ignoring Pansy's questioning look, and Blaise's curious, yet slightly angry, gaze. Draco never had bothered to explain what had happened with Ginny Weasley to his best mate, and Blaise had never asked. Though the latter had had a lot to deal with that had distracted him...

As Draco strode confidently out of the hall, determined to enjoy his time with the willing Slytherin girl, he did not see the red head at the Gryffindor table watching him. And he certainly missed the obvious hurt in her eyes.

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

Ginny looked away from the doors of the Great Hall, where Draco Malfoy had exited only moments before. She knew he had followed that Slytherin girl out, and she had a pretty good idea of what they would be doing in only a few minutes...

"Ginny?" Seamus sat beside her, though Ginny was not quite certain why. He had always been nice to her, of course, but for the past few days, he had made it a point to sit near her in the common room, making small talk and cracking jokes. This morning he had gone as far as to join her for breakfast. He really was a sweet boy, and Ginny was starting to get the impression that he was interested in her, but the feelings were not reciprocated. And he really was sitting much too close for comfort... "Are you alright?" he continued, oblivious to her thoughts.

"Of course, Seamus, I'm fine," she said, keeping her eyes trained on her nearly-full plate. She could feel Blaise's worried eyes on her, but she did not have the strength to hide her pain from him at the moment. Besides, he could probably see through any brave front she put up, anyway.

"Okay," he replied, and returned to his own meal, occasionally pausing to tell her some joke or anecdote. This went on for about fifteen minutes, with Ginny barely listening, and simply nodding at what she assumed to be the appropriate junctions, before Ron arrived.

"Finnigan," Ron said warningly, and Ginny was actually a bit grateful for her big brother's overbearing presence. Seamus gulped loudly at the unhappy expression on Ron's red face, and quickly moved away. When Ron's glare had yet to abate, Seamus quickly mumbled excuses of having to finish packing, and hastily departed from the Great Hall.

Once Seamus had left, Ron threw himself down across from Ginny, and proceeded to fill his plate with food. This was nothing new to Ginny - Ron had always been a bottomless pit when meal-time came around. No, it was the fact that he simply stared at his plate, once it had been filled, that worried her.

"Is everything alright, Ron?" she asked tentatively, as they had not really had a civil conversation in months - not since he had written home about her friendship with Blaise. His choice of seating puzzled her slightly - after all of the arguments they had shared, interspersed with bouts of a lack in communication - but his melancholy disposition indicated to Ginny that something was wrong. And, regardless of previous altercations, Ron was her family, and she did love him.

"Fine," he replied, not looking up at her. Ginny grew more concerned - this was not like Ron at all. And where were Harry and Hermione? His reaction when she voiced her mental query slightly alarmed Ginny. Ron stiffened abruptly at the mention of his two best friends, and then forced a casual shrug. "Don't know."

"Okay," Ginny drawled out slowly, growing irritated with this game already. "Then I guess I'll see you later," she said, making to stand. She was stopped from moving, however, by his voice.

"They're together," he said. When Ginny only looked at him, quite simply baffled, he continued. "Harry and Hermione are dating," he explained. "I only found out this morning, when I walked in on..." he left the rest hanging, but Ginny did not need any more information. Her sorrow for Ron's predicament was real - she knew how much he liked Hermione. And she had thought, for a time, that Hermione felt the same way for her brother. Apparently, Ginny had been mistaken.

Harry.

And Hermione.

Together?

Ginny swallowed roughly, and let the ache wash over her. In a small part of her, deep within, her crush for Harry had lingered, despite her efforts to abolish the feelings completely. And Hermione - she had known how Ginny had felt, and how difficult it had been for her to try to move on...

Ginny was only grateful that any distress caused by this revelation paled in comparison to what she had felt when Draco had left the Hall with that girl. Is it a good thing? she questioned herself bitterly. Is it better to have intense romantic feelings for Draco Malfoy, than it is to feel them for Harry Potter? In the end, it really did not matter, she decided - they would both only hurt her.