Whiskey and Leather

Ginny looked up at the dark cloudless sky outside the Burrow, dotted with innumerable stars, and sighed loudly. Sixteen was a difficult age, after all.

The fight had been loud and long, her mother insisting that she never go anywhere dangerous with her brother and his friends again. Ginny had replied heatedly, saying that she could take care of herself, and she wasn't a little girl any longer. Her mother had said that she certainly was acting like one, running around with Dean Thomas like she had been all summer long. Ginny had replied that she wasn't running around anywhere, as all the children were forbidden from leaving the Weasley's property.

Finally, fed up with the argument that was starting to go in circles, Ginny had stormed out of the house and out the back gate, wandering around the wooded grove within hearing distance of the house. She heard faint laughter and talk as the rest of them ate their dinner, and cursed her mother's over-protectiveness.

Engulfed as she was in the reliving of the recent disagreement, she ran straight into a tree.

Except that trees, when hit head on by rather small fifteen year old girls, do not take a step backward to steady themselves. Trees do not wrap a pair of very warm, strong arms around the waist of said girl.

And trees, under no circumstances, ever smell like leather and expensive cologne.

Ginny looked up, startled, into the equally surprised face of none other than Draco Malfoy.

It never occurred to her to scream. "Malfoy?" she asked in disbelief.

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, the sodding Easter bunny."

"What...what are you doing here?" she demanded, completely ignoring the fact that he hadn't let go of her waist. And it felt strangely safe here, ensconced in his arms.

"Spying," he replied without rancor.

Ginny gasped, and grabbed his left hand from it's place on her lower back, bringing it around and pulling up the sleeve of his jumper before he could react. But all she saw was a smooth, pale expanse of forearm. She looked up at him in confusion.

"No, I'm not a Death Eater," Draco said, in a deceptively calm tone, reaching into her robes and snatching her wand before she could react. "Yet."

"Yet?" Ginny asked, inwardly kicking herself for not running away the second she'd seen him.

Draco gave her a sinister grin. "I'm only in training. They sent me to make sure that all the Weasleys stayed cooped up in their hutch."

Ginny opened her mouth to scream a warning to those inside the house. Draco, with his lighting quick seeker reflexes, clapped a hand over her mouth. With his free arm, he spun her around so that her back was pressing into his torso, and he had a frighteningly secure grip around her middle.

"But you've complicated things," he whispered darkly in her ear. "I can't let you go back and spill the beans that the house is being watched."

Ginny's stomach dropped. This was it. She was going to die, here on her own property, within hearing distance of her house. The irony of it hit her, and had the situation been less dire she would have been amused.

"But I've no stomach for killing you," Draco continued, as a fresh bout of laughter floated from the house. Ginny began to hope again.

"Which leaves me in an interesting fix," Draco mused. "What to do...what to do..."

Ginny rolled her eyes. Even when holding her fate between his strong, slim fingers, he was so damned dramatic. Typical Malfoy.

"I think I'll just keep you for a while," Draco finally decided.

Ginny tried to whirl around to question him indignantly, before remembering that he was still restraining her. She struggled against him, but soon realized that she was no match for his superior strength.

"What?" Draco asked in an amused voice. "Is being in my company a fate worse than death?"

Ginny bit his hand to signify her affirmative answer.

"Ouch," Draco spat, tightening his grip around her waist. "That was uncalled for, Weasley. But, despite your resistance to the idea, I feel my choices are a bit limited. Kill you or keep you with me. Neither really appeal to me, but I'd rather not have your death on my hands. I'll save death for more important persons."

Ginny stomped on his foot.

"Bugger," he said vehemently. "I'll be glad when I've got you away from this hovel, so I don't have to worry about your escape."

Ginny bit him again.

But Draco, it seemed, had reached the end of his tether. He tightened his hand over her mouth painfully, and said in a harsh voice, "I wouldn't do such things if I were you, Weasley. You might find the results very, very unfortunate."

Ginny obediently stopped. There was no amusement readable in his tone, and she had no doubt that he'd carry out that vague threat.

"Now that we've got that settled," Draco continued, "brace yourself for a little ride."

He loosened his hold around her waist while simultaneously tightening his grip on her head and neck. She didn't dare move, for fear of breaking something. He reached into his shirt and drew out a fine silver chain with an inch tall pendant molded, rather appropriately, in the shape of a dragon.

"Descensus averno facilis est," he muttered, letting go of her head and grabbing her firmly around the wrist. A jerk threatened to knock Ginny off her feet, and she realized that the dragon pendant must have been some type of Portkey.

They stopped abruptly in a wide open space, facing a rather large castle that looked as if it had come straight from the Middle Ages.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor," Draco said dryly.

"I feel really welcome," Ginny replied venomously, yanking her hand from his. "I mean, thanks Malfoy, for not killing me and all. But why in the hell are we at your home?"

"Because I was thinking on my feet, okay?" Draco replied exasperatedly. "This was the safest place I could come up with to bring you. No entrances and no exits; you can't get in unless you have one of these." He held up the silver necklace with the dragon.

"Who all has one?" Ginny asked curiously.

"My mother, my father, and myself," Draco said. "Oh, and You-Know-Who."

Ginny gaped at him. "So, what you're saying is, it's perfectly safe here unless you're on my side of the war? Because, if you are, the Dark Lord can just drop by and dispose of you?"

"We've never really had that problem," Draco said ruefully.

"I imagine not," Ginny said sardonically. She then remembered that she was a captive, and should not be standing around conversing with her captor. She fixed her Category Five Hurricane Glare on the smug Slytherin boy, and put her hands on her hips expectantly.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Draco asked, confused.

"Well, what's the plan now?" Ginny said. "Are you going to tie me up in your dungeons and have a house elf bring me water and a crust of bread every day until the war's over? You're in a bit of a fix, Malfoy."

"I'd noticed," Draco replied. "But I was thinking more along the lines of locking you in the library and having a hundred house elves bring you a feast at every meal."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Why so nice? What if the Dark Lord pops in for a visit and discovers my presence? He's not very sympathetic to Harry Potter's allies, after all. And your father has a personal vendetta against me."

"Listen, Weasley, I'm not frankly sure about anything at the moment," Draco said impatiently. "I need to think, so stop hassling me, woman!"

Ginny promptly sat herself on the ground and crossed her arms. "So get thinking, Malfoy."

"Not here," Draco snapped. "I'm going to my room."

"And I'll just wait out here until your mother Portkeys here and lands on my head," Ginny replied.

"Don't be silly, you're coming with me," Draco said. He bent down, grabbed her arm, and pulled her up off the ground.

"Don't manhandle me, Draco Malfoy," she warned. "And I'm not going to your room. It wouldn't be proper."

"Well, as you're now my prisoner, it's not really up to you, is it?" Draco inquired smugly. "Besides, I'm not going to go into a mad fit of lust and jump you, or anything."

"I wouldn't put it past you," Ginny muttered. Draco confined himself to glaring at her as he led her to the house, his hand on her bicep in a vise-like grip.

"Ron's going to kill you when this is over," Ginny added. "You've besmirched my honor."

"Ron can kill me if he likes, so long as I'm still around to be killed at the end of all this mess," Draco replied seriously. That shut Ginny up.

*

"You incomparable fool!" Narcissa shouted at her son, her once-perfect hair falling in her face. "Why didn't you just kill her and be done with it?"

Draco ran a hand through his own impeccable hair, his expression one of almost boredom. "Mother, we can't just go around killing Weasleys. The rest of them would go toe-to-toe with Satan himself to get their revenge, and that's a bit dangerous at the stage of planning we're at now."

Apparently Draco had taken some time to prepare a proper argument. He looked in control of the situation, impervious to his mother's ranting and raving.

Ginny, concealed behind a thick velvet drapery in one of the upstairs sitting rooms, peeked through the gap in the curtains with interest and apprehension, as her fate was decided by these two relatives who were so alike, and yet so different.

"Fine then," Narcissa spat. "I'll send them a letter. Let them know we have the girl. As you mentioned, they're all loyal enough so that we can dangle her over their heads and get them to do anything we want."

Draco developed a rather thoughtful look on his face. "I suggest letting me write the letter. I think we should let them know that she's in our custody, but we shouldn't make any threats. That will make it more effective if we actually have to threaten them."

Narcissa sighed. "Do what you will."

Draco didn't answer.

Suddenly, Narcissa clutched at her left forearm. "I must go. Find the girl and make sure she's not defacing my property."

"As you wish, Mother," Draco replied calmly.

As soon as his mother left the room, Draco's façade of equanimity dropped like a stone. He turned quickly, picked up an expensive looking vase off a nearby table and chucked it at the wall. It shattered with a loud crash, causing Ginny to flinch.

"Bitch," Draco spat at the door. He stomped around for a moment, before stopping and taking a few deep breaths. He looked at the ceiling and growled a bit, before taking another deep breath and looking towards the curtains.

"You can come out now, Weasley," Draco said, his calm restored once more.

"How did you know I was there?" Ginny demanded, emerging from her hiding place as Draco cast a repairing charm on the vase.

"I'm observant," Draco replied. "I assume you heard all of that."

"Yes," Ginny said. "Thank you, Malfoy. For not letting your mother write my family."

"How about for not letting her kill you?" Draco said, smirking at her.

"That one, too," Ginny agreed, nodding her head. "But this doesn't mean I've suddenly stopped hating you," she added. "For all applicable purposes, you're my prison guard. I despise you, your family, and everything you stand for."

"I expected no less," Draco replied in an even tone.

Ginny wasn't fooled, however. She had learned in a surprisingly short amount of time that his serene demeanor was merely a mask. He was an excellent actor, and had learned early to hide his emotions.

"I'll get Plink to take you to your chambers," Draco said, walking over to a large panel on the wall and pressing one of the buttons.

Walking closer, Ginny saw the buttons were labeled with different names that must have belonged to house-elves. She idly wondered what Hermione would think of that.

Sure enough, a house elf appeared in the doorway moments later. It was smaller than average, with ears larger than normal, eyes as big as baseballs, and a nose shaped like a cucumber. Ginny concluded that it had to be a female, since the tea towel it was wearing had a bit of a ruffle along the edge.

"Master?" it said in a high, squeaky voice. Much higher than Dobby's, another reason why it had to be a girl.

"Plink, show Miss Weasley to the red bedchamber," Draco said. "And get her anything she needs. Weasley, Plink will wait on you during your time here. I think you'll find she's an excellent worker."

Plink beamed at the praise. Ginny was happy that the issue of Plink's gender was settled.

"Come, Miss Weasley, Plink is showing you your rooms now," the house-elf said in her high voice.

"Goodnight, Malfoy," Ginny said halfheartedly. Draco didn't reply.

"Miss Weasley, you is going to love it here, you is," Plink said excitedly. "It has been so long since we is having a young lady in the house. We is all very happy you is here."

"Thank you, Plink," Ginny replied heavily.

Plink beamed even wider.

Just when Ginny was wondering how many miles of hallways were contained in Malfoy Manor, Plink stopped in front of a polished mahogany door.

"This is the red room," she explained. "Master Draco says you is staying here."

Plink opened the door and led the way into the red room, which turned out to be a suite of rooms. A sitting room in the front, adjoined by a lavatory and a large bedroom, all tastefully decorated in various shades of red.

The lavatory was supplied with bath salts, sweet smelling soaps and shampoos, plus any beauty product a girl could ask for.

The sitting room had a beautiful mahogany coffee table, exquisite Persian rugs, cushioned chairs, and a comfortable couch that Ginny just wanted to sink into.

The bedroom had a humongous bed, so high off the ground that Ginny thought she'd need a ladder to get into it. Sure enough, there was a small stepstool at the foot of the bed.

Momentarily forgetting that she was a hostage, Ginny exclaimed over the comfort and elegance of the rooms until she was blue in the face. She scampered up the stepstool and spread out on the bed, which had the softest mattress Ginny had ever seen. She suspected it was filled with down, but no goose down she'd felt in her lifetime had ever been that soft.

Ginny laughed in delight as Plink looked on with a smile.

"You is liking your quarters, Miss Weasley?" the polite elf asked.

"I am indeed," Ginny agreed.

Plink showed Ginny the small red button on the bedside table, which she explained was to summon her if Ginny needed anything at all.

"Thank you," Ginny said.

"I is leaving you now, Miss Weasley," Plink said, giving Ginny a low bow. "You must be tired from your journey."

As Plink left, Ginny acknowledged that she was indeed tired, and fell asleep without changing into the nightgown laying across the back of an armchair.

*

Ginny's eyes shot open as sunlight hit her face, streaming through the dark red curtains.

She had a moment of disorientation before she remembered where she was. Malfoy Manor.

Remembering her words of the night before, she didn't really feel up to facing Draco today. He'd done the only thing he could have done in his position, aside from killing her, and she'd thrown it in his face.

She wondered if he'd written her family yet. They'd be crawling the property, trying to find her and worried out of their minds. Her mother would be bawling her eyes out, thinking the worst. And she didn't want to think about what Ron was going through. Her favorite brother would be scared senseless. When they got Malfoy's letter, Ron would be out for blood.

Ginny's eyes filled with tears. All she wanted was to get out of this place and go home to her family. She wanted to have never run into Draco Malfoy, but knew that was one thing she couldn't change.

She made a resolution to be civil to Draco. He was under his parents' thumb just as much as she was. He hadn't had a choice.

"Miss Weasley?" came a squeaky voice from beside the bed. Ginny leaned over the side to see Plink standing there, worrying her tea towel between her fingers.

"G'morning, Plink," Ginny said sleepily.

"Miss Weasley must be getting up now," Plink advised. "Plink is preparing Miss Weasley's breakfast. It is out in the sitting room."

Ginny stifled a yawn as she followed Plink into the sitting room, where an elaborate breakfast was laid out on the coffee table. Ginny fell to the food ravenously, having not eaten anything since the same time yesterday.

"Does you want Plink to draw you a bath?" Plink asked.

Ginny nodded her head, mouth too full to speak. Plink bowed quickly and headed to the lavatory, and soon Ginny heard the sound of water running.

Plink reentered the room as Ginny was wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin.

"Your bath is ready, Miss Weasley," Plink informed her.

"Plink?" Ginny asked as she walked towards the bathroom. "Where are the Malfoys?"

Plink shook her head. "My masters is not being here very often. Mistress has gone to help her master, and Master Draco is not seeing fit to tell anyone where he is getting to."

"Malfoy's gone?" Ginny asked in surprise.

"He left early this morning," Plink affirmed.

"Oh," Ginny said in a small voice, grabbing the handle of the lavatory door. "Thank you, Plink."

"You is welcome, Miss Weasley," Plink chirped. "I is going back down to the kitchens now. You will call if you is needing me?"

"I will," Ginny said, and closed the lavatory door as Plink left, her heart sinking oddly.

*

A few days later, Ginny was wandering around the grounds, thinking about how she could get out of here. Malfoy could have been lying when he said there were no entrances or exits, after all. She hadn't had the chance to quiz him about it, as he hadn't shown back up at the manor since he brought her here.

Suddenly, a twig snapping behind her caused her to whirl around. Walking towards her was Draco Malfoy himself, clothed in black slacks and a dark green jumper, his hair perfectly styled as always.

At one time she would have felt dowdy next to him. But Plink had supplied her with clothes nearly as expensive and well cut as Draco's, so she wasn't intimidated.

"Captivity is agreeing with you, Weasley," Draco drawled. "You look very...well groomed."

"I'm here all by myself with nothing to do," Ginny said with a shrug. "I've got plenty of time to make myself look good."

"Bored, huh?" Draco said with a smirk, coming to stand in front of her. She could smell his cologne, and that damn leather smell she couldn't figure out.

"Being the hostage of a desperately good-looking man in a castle is a lot less glamorous than it's made out to be," Ginny remarked dryly.

"Being the desperately good-looking son of influential evil people is a lot less exciting than it's made out to be," Draco replied, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Where have you been?" Ginny asked.

"Doing business," Draco replied.

"Are you still spying on my house?" Ginny asked hopefully.

Draco's silver eyes went to the grass. "Yes."

"Are they worried about me?" Ginny said.

"They got my letter," Draco said darkly.

"What did you say?" Ginny demanded.

"Just that I had you, but for security reasons I cannot let you come home," Draco said. "I did promise them you'd be safe, but I doubt that made much of a difference."

Ginny bit her lip. "This war bites."

"Yes it does," Draco agreed in a low voice. When he looked up to see her gaping at him, a slash of red dashed across his cheeks.

"Malfoy, do you think it'll ever be over?" Ginny said wistfully, ignoring his moment of weakness.

"I don't know," Draco replied, shaking his head. "But one of us is going to be on the losing side."

*

Ginny lived for Draco's visits.

He'd appear every few days, and each time he'd look a little thinner, his eyes a little more shadowed, as if he'd seen another piece of hell. But he always made her laugh, and when one is alone most of the time a laugh means more than another's loyalties.

In between his visits, she'd talk to Plink, who had apparently taken on the job of her shadow.

"You is not happy here, is you, Miss Weasley?" Plink asked one day, when they were exploring another system of hidden tunnels. Malfoy Manor seemed to contain literal dozens of them.

"I'm a captive," Ginny said. "I'm being held here against my will. I want to go home."

"Is you not liking the manor?" Plink asked anxiously.

"It's not that," Ginny sighed. "If I had chosen to come here, it would be great. The manor is wonderful. But I miss my family, and I know they're worried about me."

"If you is leaving, Master Draco will be missing you," Plink said.

"He doesn't need me," Ginny said bitterly. "He'd be a lot better off without having me to take care of."

"It is you who is taking care of him," Plink answered. "He is thinking now."

"Thinking?" Ginny repeated.

"He is thinking about the war," Plink said, grinning a bit. "Master Draco is not being content here," Plink explained. "He is wanting something else."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Master Lucius and Mistress is having Master Draco under their thumbs," Plink said sadly. "He is not wanting to be a Death Eater."

"What does he want?" Ginny asked.

"He is thinking it's not worthwhile," Plink sighed. "He is wondering why you keep believing in your Harry Potter."

"How do you know all of this?" Ginny said suspiciously.

"You is not the only one who is telling Plink their secrets," Plink said mischievously. "Oh, no you isn't."

That left Ginny quite a lot to mediate on.

*

On Draco's next visit, he brought her a surprise.

"Malfoy!" she squealed, plucking the ginger haired, brown eyed kitten out of his arms. "What on earth?"

"It reminded me of you, Weasley," Draco said with a shrug.

Ginny gave him a broad grin. "She's adorable."

"She's a scrawny little stray," Draco objected.

Ginny glared at him. "Thanks, Malfoy," she said sarcastically.

They sat in Ginny's sitting room far into the night, talking about everything. How the family was, what Draco said in his last letter, and everything that Ginny had done at the manor.

At about one in the morning, Ginny picked up the cat and headed to bed. Draco had christened it Whiskey, because he said that's what color her eyes were. Ginny still thought they were more champagne colored, but Draco had been insistent.

"Goodnight, Malfoy," she said, opening the door to her bedroom.

"Goodnight, Weasley," he replied, rising from her couch and walking towards the door to the hallway.

*

Ginny woke up the next morning to find Whiskey absent from her bed. She looked around her room for a moment, before noticing her door was slightly ajar.

She walked into the sitting room to see Draco stretched out on her couch, Whiskey in the crook of his arm. She chuckled to herself, simply watching them sleep.

Her heart tugged oddly as she perused Draco's features. He was on the opposite side of the war, their families hated each other, and he'd teased her for years. Yet, here she was, watching him sleep and smiling.

She admitted to herself then how dear he'd become to her. The only other human being she'd seen in four months, the only person who'd ever made her laugh as much as she had in his company. Maybe she was just lonely. Maybe once she got out in the real world again, these feelings would go away.

She doubted it.

Ginny made a vow then. Once this war was over, if they were both still alive, no matter what side he was on, she'd never forget him. She'd never forget his kindness in sparing her life, or how nice he was and didn't have to be. He was a good friend.

"You look like you're thinking sappy thoughts," Draco drawled, watching her out of barely open eyes.

"I was just contemplating why you aren't in your own room," Ginny lied.

"I decided it was too far to walk," Draco said nonchalantly.

"You stole my kitten," Ginny accused.

"He was meowing at the door," Draco defended himself. "You slept right through it."

Ginny walked over, knelt by the couch, and began to scratch Whiskey behind the ears. She caught a whiff of Draco's cologne, and that smell of leather again. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," she cooed.

"I accept your apology," Draco said with a straight face.

"Not you. Whiskey." Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Stupid cat gets all the love," Draco muttered, knocking her hand aside so he could scratch the kitten. He looked up at her as if daring her to do something about it.

When their eyes met, Ginny felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her.

*

"Malfoy," she breathed. "What happened?"

He had shown up in the middle of the night, with his jacket torn and bloody and a scrape above one eye. His hands were bleeding from innumerable small cuts.

"I had a bit of a run in with that prat of a brother I believe you call Ron," Draco said spitefully. "I call him a bastard."

"Ron did this to you?" Ginny said, already leading him towards her bedroom while calling for Plink.

"Yes," Draco said. "He seemed to be under the impression that I was trying to set a trap for a few Order members. Which I was."

Ginny flinched. She didn't like it when Malfoy mentioned her friends. The ones he was trying to kill.

"It's my job, Weasley," Draco said, seeing her pained look.

"You could quit," she said dully, willing herself not to tear up.

"No, I can't," Draco replied grimly.

She cleaned his cuts with a Wizard First Aid Kit provided by Plink, and sent him on his way. She couldn't deal with him just then.

He was trying to kill the people she loved, and he called it his job.

Suddenly, she was glad Ron won that fight.

*

"And yet, here we are," Ginny said, gesturing around. "Conversing in a completely friendly manner, as if nothing is wrong."

"It doesn't matter here," Draco said, looking up at the sky. "I just want to forget what side I'm on in this stupid mess."

"It's not stupid," Ginny growled. "And we can't ever forget it."

"Weasley," Draco said harshly. "I don't want to forget the war. I want to forget that I'm on the losing side."

Now Ginny couldn't ignore it. "Malfoy, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that Voldemort is going down. I know it, he knows it, the Death Eaters know it. We're all running around like chickens with our heads cut off, trying to change the inevitable."

"So why don't you change sides?" Ginny asked, in her opinion very logically.

"Because of my family," Draco replied as if it was obvious. "They'd disown me."

"Well, Ron would disown me for talking to you, but that's not stopping me," Ginny pointed out.

"It's not like you have any choice," Draco replied dryly. "I'm the only person you ever see."

"Malfoy, just tell me what you want," Ginny said. "You don't want to go down with the ship, do you?"

"What nonsense are you talking?" Draco scoffed. "I'm very loyal."

"You don't want this idiocy," Ginny said. "You're way too smart to be evil."

"I'm a Malfoy," Draco said with a shrug. "It's kind of in the job description."

"I wish you'd do what you want, for once," Ginny spat. "Not what everyone expects of you."

"You want to know what I want?" Draco said, quickly closing the space between them.

"Yes," Ginny said, boldly meeting his gaze.

In the few milliseconds before he answered, Ginny was suddenly aware of everything around her. The grass tickling her ankles; the cloudless sky overhead; the slight wind that blew Draco's hair back from his face; the pebble pressing against the sole of her shoe. She was hyperaware of him standing so close to her, their faces mere inches apart.

"I want to get away," Draco said rather hoarsely. " I want to leave this place, and I want never to see my mother or my father again. I want to be able to look Albus Dumbledore in the eye without feeling guilty. I want to say 'shove it' to everyone and join the side I know is right."

"So do," Ginny said, but Draco put a finger to her lips.

"But most of all, Miss Ginevra Molly Weasley, I want you."

And then he was kissing her. His arms were around her as they hadn't been since the night he captured her. She caught the scent of his cologne, and that smell of leather that clung inexplicably to him.

He let go of her, looking as surprised as she felt. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "I shouldn't have -"

Ginny shook her head. "Yes, you should have."

Then she kissed him.

*

"Weasley!" she heard a shout, as footsteps sounded down the hallway. She opened the door to see Draco running down the hall, a huge smile plastered on his face.

"What?" she asked.

"We did it," Draco said with a laugh, picking her up by the waist and twirling her around. She grabbed him around the neck to steady herself as she looked at him askance. She smelled leather again.

"I couldn't tell you before," Draco explained. "Dumbledore thinks my house is magically bugged, and that my mother and father hear everything that goes on in here. I had to make it look real."

"What are you babbling about, Malfoy?" Ginny demanded.

"The war, Weasley," Draco said. "It's over. I'm a spy. I have been this whole time, but I couldn't say anything."

Ginny stared at him. "You..."

"I didn't have a choice," he said quickly. "It was orders."

Ginny didn't know exactly what to do, so she simply kissed him.

*

"I told Miss Weasley she isn't the only one who is telling their secrets to Plink," Plink said later that night, when she was lighting lamps in the red room.

"You could have told me," Ginny accused.

"I is telling you this, Miss Weasley," Plink said. "It was not an accident that Master Draco is running into you that night."

Ginny stared. "What?"

"Master Draco is wanting to protect you," Plink explained. "So he is bringing you to the safest place he knows."

"Are you saying Malfoy kidnapped me...and planned it beforehand?" Ginny asked indignantly.

"Yes," Plink replied simply.

Ginny stormed out of her room and down the hall to the green room, which was Draco's room. She banged on the door, and Draco answered looking sleepy-eyed.

"What?" he asked groggily.

"Draco Octavius Malfoy, did you kidnap me on purpose?" she demanded.

Draco opened his door wider, silently inviting her inside. She saw Whiskey sitting on one of the chairs, and rushed to pick her up.

"And you stole my cat," she accused.

Draco leaned against his door, raising an eyebrow at her. It was then she realized that he was only half clothed, his well muscled chest bare, a pair of green sweatpants riding low on his hips.

She swallowed abruptly, as her mouth had mysteriously gone dry.

"Listen, Weasley, you have to understand," Draco started. "When things started to get ugly, I went to Dumbledore. If anyone could keep you out of trouble, he could. So we formulated a plan, and I brought you here. It kept you safe."

"Why did you want me safe?" Ginny asked, clutching Whiskey to her chest and staring at him.

"Because I was in love with you," Draco said with a shrug. "I always have been."

Whiskey hit the ground with a thump, and Ginny dimly registered that it was a good thing cats always landed on their feet.

"What do you mean?" she asked weakly, feeling that it was a stupid question, but having to ask anyway.

"Weasley," Draco said with a smile, walking towards her. "I love you. I've loved you since you were fourteen years old."

"Why then?" Ginny asked, thinking of the most arbitrary question she could.

"Quidditch," Draco replied with a wicked grin. "When I saw you zooming around after the snitch, I couldn't help but fall head over heels for you."

Ginny nodded in understanding. Quidditch was inexplicably tied to a string that went deep into the heart of every true fan, and it caused them to do crazy things.

She suddenly became very nervous, afraid to meet his eyes. She looked around the room, and her gaze fell upon a couch.

A leather couch.

So that explained it. She burst into laughter.

"What?" Draco asked, a crease forming between his brows.

"Leather," she said. "You smell like leather. It must be that damned couch."

Draco looked at her as if she was crazy. "You know, after sixth months of your company I should be used to things like this. But you are just a mystery, Weasley."

Ginny shrugged. "You smell like leather. I can't help it."

"Is that a bad thing?" Draco asked.

Ginny shook her head. "It smells wonderful."

Draco laughed. "You are so wonky."

"But that's why you love me, right?" Ginny said teasingly.

"It's one of the many, many reasons," Draco assured her.

How do you wait for heaven

And who has that much time

How do you keep your feet on the ground

When you know that you were

Born to fly

-Sara Evans-