The Lost Room

Author's Notes: This was written for the Fall 2006 D/G Fic Exchange at Livejournal. It was nominated for Best Fic Overall.

Here was the prompt: Realistic romance which would take place during HBP. Ginny will be pre-warned of that something that will happen which involves the death of the character in HBP but she won't click until it has all happened. The fic should be written from Ginny's point of view as she is the one who understands Draco's stance in HBP. The ending of the story must end with the ending of HBP.

Thank you to the moderators of the exchange (forgetablelove and jandjsalmon) for their assistance in coming up with the title mentioned in the first paragraph; to fallenwitch and jandjsalmon for the excellent, speedy, last-minute beta read; and to the HP Lexicon for the HPB/OotP timelines. I could not have done this without you.

The Lost Room

Two annoyed young people stood before the desk of Albus Dumbledore, staring at him as if he were out of his mind. Draco finally took the parchment the old professor had laid out on the space between them and read flatly, "Manage Your Wrath-? You've got to be joking."

"No, Mr. Malfoy, I think it would be good for you. You too, Miss Weasley. You both seem to have a temper that should you not learn to manage, will manage you for the rest of your foreseeable lives."

Judging by his feeble attempt to hide his amusement at the pair's predicament, Ginny couldn't decide whether he was kidding or not. But knowing him, he probably wasn't.

"But Professor Dumbledore," she protested hotly, "why do both of us have to go? He's the problem here! I only defend myself when--"

Draco scoffed and cut her off in mid-sentence, "Right! Is that what you call it when you unleashed all those disgusting, large bats on me? They were flying all over my face -trying to bite the end of my nose off, scratching my cheeks, clawing at my eyes! I could have been blinded, you idiot!" With his arm outstretched, he yelled indignantly, "That woman has got to learn to control herself!"

Ginny glared back at Draco, ready to give him another earful about the questionable actions of certain members of the so-called 'Inquisitorial Squad', and that she and her friends wouldn't have been caught since there wasn't any actual rule-breaking as the rules were ridiculous in the first place! But the man on the other side of the desk spoke first.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, you could both do with some learning, which is why I am recommending this class. You will need to travel immediately after you return home, but fortunately, the course is compressed into just five days so it won't cut into your holiday for too long. They use an accelerated lesson plan to quickly teach the students to, 'Learn to walk a mile in another man's shoes', to quote an old Muggle adage. Their success rate is very high."

This only served to aggravate them further.

"But, sir, I'm not the problem!"

"Wanna bet?"

He silenced them both by raising his hand.

"All arrangements have been made, and you are both going."

* * * * *

As much as Ginny trusted Professor Dumbledore, she had her doubts about this whole barmy idea. But within days, she had to admit that the course was actually helpful. Their advanced teaching methods used a combination of Muggle psychiatry and good, old-fashioned magic. Students learned to channel their energy into understanding, instead of cutting down one's adversary. Soon, the once-sworn enemies grew to understand, even like each other.

By the third day, Draco couldn't help noticing that Blaise was right: she was rather attractive - freckles, red hair, and all - and Ginny had to acknowledge that he did have some good qualities, despite the façade he wore for the rest of the world. She even found she enjoyed his sardonic sense of humor, now that he'd backed off insulting her with it. Surprisingly, he could actually be fun.

The new friends agreed to meet for a picnic lunch to celebrate their last day there. They ate under a gazebo that stood next to a fountain with a carving of Irene, Greek goddess of peace, at its center. As Ginny listened to the fountain, she found herself mesmerized by the cool, splashing water and the butterflies that danced on the breeze around it. Never losing sight of the purple and black one that lit daintily on Irene's alabaster hair, she smiled wistfully. She was thinking how ironic this whole thing had been, and how they had finally gotten to know one another now, of all times . . . now that the battle lines had been drawn so clearly.

She felt, rather than saw him staring at her. When her eyes met his, the hunger she saw in them was undeniable; the way he was looking at her just then, the excitement she felt when she was with him . . . it was indescribable. It was nothing like what Michael or even Harry had made her feel. He edged closer to her wordlessly, and after a tenuous first kiss, sparks erupted. He wrapped himself around her and kissed her again, kissed her as if his very life depended on holding her, tasting her, knowing her.

Her hair, her fiery, copper hair. He could never touch its softness enough or inhale all of its flowery scent. Her eyes glowed with a passion that was unmistakable; he could tell that she wanted this, perhaps more than he did. He moved his hand, slowly but surely, down the back of her hair to the nape of her freckled neck then stopped briefly to check her response. When she kissed with more enthusiasm than ever, he felt compelled to keep going. So he did, moving along the neckline of her robes and over her collarbone, pausing cautiously just as the heel of his hand reached the top edge of her breast. Again, he stopped to be sure she didn't mind if he went a bit further.

On the contrary, the look of abandon on her face said she might hurt him if he didn't.

He was breathing heavily. They were standing so close, she could feel his hardness press insistently against her stomach. She swallowed nervously.

This is it, she told herself.

"Have you," he asked in between breaths, "ever--"

She nodded hastily, saying, "A few times, yes." But when she started to kiss him again, he turned away and groaned. No matter how very tempting this was, it just . . .

"Ginny, as much as I would dearly love to shag you - you know we can't. It would never work; we would never work."

At first, she considered disregarding his advice. But when he backed away from her resolutely, she knew he was serious. It was a relationship with no future. This would only make it worse.

"You're right," she agreed. "We'd have to be crazy. But can't we at least be friends?" She could hear the pleading in her own voice and cringed a little inside at how pathetic she sounded.

Draco shook his head and said with a mirthless laugh, "You're a glutton for punishment, aren't you, Weasley?" He sighed then started to head back for their afternoon class. "Well, time for our last lesson."

"Wait. I've got an idea." She pulled two coins out of her pocket. After putting an enchantment on each of them, she offered one to him. "If you bring this coin back to school with you, I'll know you want to see me." He started to take it but then hesitated. "Think about it," she added.

Draco appeared to be mildly impressed. He raised an eyebrow then took one of the coins from her open palm. Pleased with her quick thinking, she smiled to herself. He flipped his coin once in the air, caught it, and then tucked it away. "All right. See you back in class."

* * * * *

Summer dragged on at the Burrow for Ginny. Fleur Delacour was driving her, and practically everyone else, out of their minds. When Harry arrived much earlier than he did, things only got worse, for it was painfully obvious that he was no longer thinking of her as just 'Ron's little sister'. Still, she was friendly to him. They played Quidditch together during the day, and at night, Hermione read while Ginny stayed up late and wrote long letters to Dean Thomas.

Dean Thomas, she thought with a sigh. When she had mentioned to Ron that she had taken an interest in Dean, it was a lark, really, but one that turned out to be quite fortunate. She reckoned that if she had not mentioned anyone specific, she might be fending off Harry Potter's advances right now - not to mention Ron's encouragement of said advances. What she really wanted was get to know Draco better. And she definitely wanted to kiss him again. Sealing another letter, she smiled and thought, It's funny how things work out.

The first day of September finally arrived. Ginny rode with Dean on the Hogwarts Express, and Draco, after making a brief appearance in the Prefects' compartment, joined his Slytherin classmates. During the ride, Pansy Parkinson brought up the name of Ginny Weasley. When she did, Draco felt his heart skip a beat and a tingly sensation flooded his body. As she casually mentioned that lots of boys found her to be good-looking, including his housemate Blaise Zabini, he feigned indifference. But just beneath the surface, his blood was boiling. He wished she would just shut the hell up and keep stroking his hair. That way, he could close his eyes and pretend she was the fiery-haired vixen he wanted to shag this summer.

He had thought of little else since returning home. But they couldn't be together. Falling for her would be a serious mistake, he thought as he fingered the coin in his pocket, flipping it over and over in its secret compartment, all the while ignoring Pansy's cackling laughter as best he could.

Later that night, the Great Hall was abuzz as new students were sorted into houses. The term began and life went on as usual at Hogwarts. But Ginny found it difficult to focus on her studies. Although she put up a good front - thanks in large part to Dean - her thoughts were elsewhere. Draco and their unrequited passion were consuming her, making studying impossible. She had to see him but where? He wasn't in the Slug Club so she couldn't see him there, and sneaking off to an opposing team's Quidditch practice was grounds for immediate removal from one's house team.

The coin in her robe pocket still had not changed, but she felt certain that he had his with him. So she took it upon herself to find a private spot where they could meet. One afternoon when her brother's dorm room was empty, she slipped in and nicked Harry's map. After much searching, she found what seemed like an ideal place: a small, unnamed, abandoned room not far from Professor Trelawney's classroom. Apparently, no one ever went there. She almost missed it herself among all the busy markings of the map.

When she first came up to survey the room in person, it was perfect, except for being a bit cramped and more than a tad dirty. But it was nothing a little Weasley magic couldn't fix. The room had a single window that was so small that Crookshanks could barely have crawled through it, and judging by the thick coat of dust around the room, the items within had remained there undisturbed for many years. There were dozens of tea-stained cups, all with the same fleur delis pattern, a box of old crystal balls, and rows of charts on yellowed parchment. Ginny figured it had been used by the previous Divination professor. The room and its contents had been forgotten, and as she put on the finishing touches, she only hoped it would stay that way.

Then finally, one day in late September, words appeared on her coin. He asked if they could meet that Friday evening. They had not spoken to each other, much less kissed or touched, since returning to school. She sent him back a message where and what time to meet her.

On entering the room, she noticed that it needed to be dusted again. But I just cleaned it last week! Mildly annoyed but by no means discouraged, she applied a few of her mother's quick cleaning spells. Once she was done, she sat on a tatty, plum-colored couch, and waited for Draco to arrive.

The wait was excruciating and seemed to go on forever. Growing tired and a little bored, she wandered around the room and started to wave her wand around casually. She watched the light as it danced around. The crystal balls that were protruding from their dilapidated box reflected the warm whitish-yellow glow. The simple pleasure made her giggle, even though she knew she should be feeling nervous. She was out far too late - it was probably after hours by now - and she vaguely wondered whether Dean had made it back to Gryffindor Tower yet.

Her focus shifted back to Draco. Why wasn't he there yet? When at last she heard noises in the outer hallway, her heart fluttered. But when the door didn't open, she sunk back in disappointment. She lay her head down on the arm of the sofa and was soon drifting in and out. Every bump in the hallway outside startled her. At length, she heard the sounds she had been waiting for all this time: the hinges of the door creaking as it fell shut and Draco's voice.

"Hullo," he said casually as he stood over her. He smiled dashingly then kissed her nose. When he hoisted her in his arms, he spun her around and kissed her again. She was elated to see him and laughed like she hadn't laughed in ages.

"Now, wait a minute! I thought we were going to be 'just friends'. What ever happened to that, you randy pervert?"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, sod all that 'friends' crap. I thought about it, and I think we should progress to 'friends with benefits'. What do you think, Ginny?" He wiggled his eyebrows and gave her a wickedly engaging smile. He put her down on the sofa, sat down next to her, and the two began talking. Neither of their feelings had changed. It was just like they were back under the gazebo, relaxing and enjoying each other's company.

Gradually, a nagging feeling overtook her. "Look, Draco, we really should be getting back. Ron's probably sent out a search and rescue team for me. But before we go, I need to ask you about something."

"I'd say about eight inches. But it's not the size of the wand; it's the magic inside that counts." He reached out for her suddenly, grabbed her shoulders and tried to pin her underneath him, but she wriggled away and sat up.

"Yeah, yeah, and the wizard who wields it. But I'm serious, Draco."

He sat up on the other edge of the sofa so he could look in her eyes. "All right. What?" he asked, his playful mood gone.

"Did you really break Harry's nose on the train?"

He shrugged casually and smiled as if thinking of a fond memory. Raising an eyebrow, he said, "I might have. But if it wasn't me, would you find out who did so I can thank them properly? That reminds me: I still owe someone flowers for blacking Granger's eye."

She scoffed. "You are unbelievable, Draco Malfoy. Didn't you learn anything this summer?"

"I learned about you. Besides, can I help it if your goody-goody Gryffindor friends are a pain in the arse?" As she stood up and crossed in front of him, he demanded, "Where are you going?"

"Back. You should, too, you know," she said, a bit sternly.

"But we haven't spent a half-hour together! Please, Ginny . . . stay." He reached out and grabbed hold of her hand. Pulling her closer, he brought it to his lips and kissed it tenderly. "Please? I need to tell you something."

"I'm listening, Draco." She sat down next to him and touched his thigh lightly. "I'll always be here for you."

He breathed deeply then exhaled a long, shuddering sigh. "I-I don't know how to say this, but the truth is, I'm . . . I'm scared, Ginny. The summer was excruciating, what with Father sent away, all those meetings, the plans, Mother crying, my aunt--"

She flinched at the very mention of her; those two haunting words sent a chill to her heart. He felt her shiver and paused for a moment.

"Look," he began again hesitantly, "I know you've been through some pretty rough things yourself, so you know what I'm saying. But this - this was just awful. I mean, she taught me a lot, and I am grateful, but still . . . I don't know if I'm ready for this."

"Ready for what?" She placed her soft hands on his cheeks, which were like ice. "You haven't you seen him, have you?" He shook his head rapidly, his eyes drawn wide. "As you can well imagine, my dealings with him . . . they definitely had an effect on me. It was a living nightmare." She said these last few words in a harsh whisper.

"I know, Ginny. I do. I've known about it for years, long before you brought it up in our class this summer." Seeing her shocked glance, he went on. "Sorry I didn't mention it before, but Father told me about it when I asked him why we'd lost Dobby. He was furious. I thought surely he would strike me just for asking. But that night, he started drinking, and he couldn't keep his mouth shut. He told me everything. Fortunately, he was too pissed to think of using a Memory Charm on me.

"And that's why I knew . . . that I could talk to you. I knew you'd understand." He took her hand once more, turned it over, and kissed her palm lovingly. "I'm so glad that I got to guard you that day. I'll tell you, Pansy wasn't too keen on the idea." He added with a sardonic laugh, "I'm even glad you hexed me. Without that, we wouldn't be here now."

He stopped and gazed at her. She could see the peace return to his grey eyes, and she smiled at him sadly. She leaned over and lightly grazed his cheek with her soft, wet lips.

That was all it took; the flames soon engulfed them like a tempest they didn't have the power to stop.

Clothing - some of it fine and expensive, some of it not so fine - was soon scattered across the floor as they moved steadily toward the sofa. The searing kisses continued, neither of them wanting to break apart for even a second, fearing the magic would be broken. Draco maneuvered them toward the sofa and gently guided her onto it, positioning himself on top of her.

He licked the side of her earlobe and neck as she ran her hands over his biceps. Mmm, not bad, she thought as she took a moment to appreciate his physique. As he stared her up and down, she wondered vaguely where he would put his tongue next, not that it particularly mattered. He glided it down her throat and to one of her pink nubs, which had peaked long ago, and began stroking it, lightly at first, then more intensely, circling it and sucking gently. The pleasurable sensation fueled her desire even more, and her legs simply fell open in response.

He slid smoothly inside her, and she gasped at how easy it was this time. He moved slowly at first, taking his time so he could enjoy the feel of her body. When she kissed him deeply, he shuddered and picked up the pace a bit. Ginny relished the delicious sensations he was creating in her and wasn't shy about letting him know. Encouraged by her appreciative whimpering, he pushed deeper inside her. He tilted his pelvis slightly until he found exactly the way she liked to be stroked and was rewarded with a cry.

They clung to each other, both of them desperate for release. His breathing was becoming more erratic, indicating that his climax was imminent. A raspy sound that seemed to form her name gradually escaped from his throat. She could feel him pulsing inside her. Seeing the ecstasy on his face made her feel immensely powerful, and she soon followed him into bliss.

As they relaxed and their breathing returned to normal, Ginny closed her eyes, hoping that their lovemaking would always be this way - that it wasn't this intense simply because it was their first time together and they were deeply infatuated with each other. It seemed that everything, from the way their bodies molded against each other so perfectly, to the way he made her feel, physically and emotionally - it all just felt so right.

Coming back to reality, she started thinking that it must be getting dreadfully late. She dressed, kissed him one last time, and left for Gryffindor Tower.

She gave the Fat Lady the password, expecting to be admonished for being out after hours. But as she stepped through the portrait hole, something seemed a bit weird. Most everyone was still up and about. People were studying, reading, gossiping, writing letters, practicing spells, and whatever else they did to fill their time after dinner.

Even the first years are still up! I don't understand; surely, I've been gone for well over an hour.

As Romilda Vane walked by, she asked her what time it was. When she said it was 8:20, Ginny said, "Really? I could have sworn it was closer to . . . umm, never mind. Thank you." The fourth-year shook her head and sneered as if the girl were just another daft Weasley.

But I waited for Draco for almost half an hour! Or maybe it just felt that way, the anticipation and all.

Exhausted, she went up to the fifth-year girls' dorm and slept all night.

* * * * *

They weren't able to meet again until a week before Halloween. When the time came, she waited once more in their private room, with its faint light and stockpiles of ancient Divination supplies. She drew a lazy finger across the rusty edges of a metal box labeled some odd brand of tea she had never heard of. She touched the random objects, brushing some of them off.

To pass the time, she thought of everything from Quidditch to her classes and homework to what would be for dessert tomorrow. She thought about her housemates and reassured herself that all of them, but most importantly, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, believed the ruse that she and Dean were actually falling in love. Perhaps they were - but not with each other.

If they knew the truth, that Draco and I have been lovers for weeks . . . Ron would surely have me checked into St. Mungo's, and Harry would swear I was under an Imperius. Thank goodness for Dean or this would never work so well . . .

A sullen Draco Malfoy stormed into their private domain, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"I need to talk to you," he growled.

"What's the matter, love?" she asked as she reached out to him and tried to put her arms around his neck. But instead of being receptive, he grabbed her wrists and forced her arms to her side.

"I am fucking sick and tired of seeing that Dean Thomas hang all over you like he did the other day in Hogsmeade. He is not to touch you . . . you are mine. And I don't share what is mine!"

She glared at him silently, stunned by his accusation. When she found her voice, she rose to her defense. "Don't be ridiculous, Draco. You know it's only--"

But he was not convinced, and without a word, he summoned one of the crystal balls she had been examining earlier and smashed it against the far wall.

"Is that clear, Miss Weasley?" She could feel his breath hot on her face.

"You know it's not like that," Ginny said insistently, attempting once more to reach out and hold him. Draco growled in frustration, backed away from her, and threw his arms out to deflect her touch. She studied his face and could sense that he was distracted. Perhaps his anger was not directed at her or her so-called 'boyfriend'.

"Well, it sure as hell looked that way to me! And to everyone else. He was all over you; if he'd have gotten any closer . . . I swear, he'd have been inside of you!"

"How dare you, Draco Malfoy. We've been through this before, but I suppose once more can't hurt," she snipped. He scowled at her catty remark. "I pretend that Dean is my boyfriend. To make it believable, we have to be together sometimes. That means hugging and kissing, fawning over each other, and all that. In exchange, he gets to hide his strange desires for his roommate, who shall forever remain anonymous, even to me, while you and I carry on in secret. Get it?"

Despite her little speech, he was still leery. "And he's never asked who your secret lover was? Look at me, Ginny. This is very important. Does he know it's me?"

"Why would he? He doesn't care who you are. And I don't ask about his secret, because I don't care. It serves both our purposes."

He released a shaky breath then mumbled, "Followers of the Dark Lord, and their family members, have been killed for much less than falling in love with someone who supports the opposition."

She sighed, aggravated by this sudden bout of irrational jealousy. It was pointless, utterly ridiculous, groundless . . . and then it hit her. Did he just say 'falling in love'?

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Falling in love with me."

"I don't know. Maybe I am," he answered noncommittally.

"But you do care for me, don't you?"

"Fuck's sake, Ginny! You know I do - can't we just leave it at that? Look, I really need to get back soon to start my rounds, and we both know what would happen if we were to kiss, even just one time . . . "

The look on his face told her how much he longed for that kiss. She felt the same but didn't want to start anything they wouldn't have the time to finish properly. "What time is it, anyway?" she asked, not really wanting to know.

He looked at his watch then frowned. "That can't be right. It must have stopped." Putting it next to his ear, he shook it to be sure it was still ticking. It was, but even the second hand didn't appear to be moving. "That's odd. It worked earlier today."

"Oh." She gasped, remembering the one night they had been here before. "Draco, the last time we were here, did you notice what time it was when you got back to the dungeons?"

Still tinkering with his watch, he said absently, "Not really."

"Well, time just seemed to sort of . . . stop. Or at least, it moved very slowly. I know, without a Time Turner, how could that be possible? But I waited for you at least 30 minutes. When you finally got here--"

"Thirty? I was only about four or five minutes late."

"Whatever. Then we talked for a while, made love . . . I should have been gone at least two hours. But when I got back to my house, it was still early. Even the first-years were awake. Hermione makes them lie down by 8:30."

"So you're saying time that works differently when we're in here?"

"It certainly seems to . . . but maybe it's not just because we're in here. I mean, have you ever seen how dirty this room gets? Well, maybe you haven't because I usually clean it before you get here. But there's always dust bunnies under the sofa, and that small table, the candlesticks, the old Divination supplies," she said, pointing from one thing to the next, "all of them are coated with dust."

Draco took a moment to survey the room. It certainly didn't look like anything special.

"Do you think this could be a Lost Room? I've heard of them but never been in one. They're pretty rare these days. Goyle's family has one in their attic. Used to send him there for punishments. Don't know what else they use it for."

Ginny was intrigued. "How does it work? I mean, is there some sort of time ratio to what's happening outside?"

"How would I know? I just told you I'd never been in one."

"Well, step outside for a few minutes!" she laughed as if the answer were obvious.

"No way. I'm not standing around in an empty hallway like an idiot."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "All right then, I will. It's 6:43. I'll be back in five minutes."

"Crazy bird," he muttered to himself as the door fell shut behind her.

When she finally came back in, he was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, and looking at the aged parchments of star charts. "About bloody time! Left me sitting in here bored out of my mind for twenty-five minutes!"

She showed him her watch. It read 6:48. Laughing, she touched his face and huddled up against him. "Looks like we just found a whole lot more time."

He smiled one of his genuine, perfect smiles, the kind that made her weak in the knees. "Yeah, we did."

Her lips were on his once more, and their passion ignited. He longed for her warmth, her softness . . . her love. Before long, they were peeling off layers of clothes. Seeking a cozier spot, they moved over to the sofa. It was the place where they laughed, loved, drank each other in, drew life from each other . . .

Afterward, Ginny grinned to herself. It was incredible, just like the last time. Sex with Michael was nothing like this. They had never connected on this level, or on any level, for that matter. He would just pump away like mad for about a minute, grunting noisily as his pleasure built, then a groan would signify his release. Afterward when he left her, she felt disappointed and rejected. Used.

But this . . . this was definitely real. It felt as natural as breathing, not to mention better than anything she had ever experienced.

Ever since Tom had lied and told her he loved her, she knew it was better to err on the side of caution when it came to boys. She had always made a conscious effort not to fall in love with a boy just because he had a handsome face or lent a sympathetic ear . . . and so far, she had done a pretty good job.

But when she was with Draco, she couldn't help herself. He made her feel things - not just physically, but emotionally - that she hadn't with anyone else. He completed her.

Merlin help me - I think I'm in love with him.

* * * * *

Ginny strode with purpose toward the Lost Room, her elegant robes billowing behind her as she left Professor Slughorn's Christmas party. The guests included Slug Club members, their guests, and a few dignitaries. It wasn't the best party ever, but to be honest, being cordial to all those people who felt they deserved the students' admiration had been rather tedious. At least she got new robes, and it was fun watching Hermione try to invent various ways to dodge her date, Cormac McLaggen, whom everyone agreed was something of a legend in his own mind. She wondered if Professor Slughorn had purposefully left him out to deflate his ego just a bit.

Speaking of egos, she could understand Draco's disappointment that he had not been chosen to join the Potions Master's elite group. After all, his father had been a member during his days at Hogwarts, so he assumed he would be as well. He seemed to feel entitled to the things he wanted simply because of his family name.

But gatecrashing a private party? Unbelievable!

Ginny thought his behavior tonight was unconscionable. Naturally, she was happy to see him, and she enjoyed watching him ogle her in her splendid attire. But she was still angry with him. If she could have, she would have asked him to go as her guest. But that just wasn't possible.

"What took you so fucking long?" he demanded the minute she threw the door open. "It feels like I've been here since Halloween!"

"Of course, it does, you prat. That's what this room does - extends time! Now, what the hell were you thinking, showing up uninvited to a private party?"

He scowled and said, "I had to see you, okay? I'd watched you as you walked down the hallway in your new robes, and you just . . . took my breath away. I couldn't let you go there alone with all those boys gawking at you." He paused a moment. "You look bloody gorgeous."

No matter how outraged she had been, Ginny appreciated the compliment. She smiled and said, "Thank you."

She knew she couldn't stay - not this time. "I've got to get back. Is that all?" she asked, fighting the urge to kiss him. She turned to go, but he latched onto her arm forcefully and pulled her back.

His face looked pained. Tired. As he turned away from her, she heard him sniff. Is he . . . crying?

"No, it isn't. Oh Ginny. I don't know what to do. I can't, I can't, I just - can't do it! I'm not ready. I don't want this, it's too much, I - I . . ."

He started to babble incoherently. She touched his arm and caressed it lovingly. Reaching up to stroke his face, she said, "Draco, calm down. What is it? Can you tell me?"

"No, I can't! That's the problem. If I repeat what he said . . . if word gets out, I'll be killed. Mother won't be safe, my father will be tortured as well, most likely killed--"

Alarmed, she said, "All right, you musn't - I understand. Tell me whatever you can. Just don't put anyone at risk, please. It's not worth it." She led him over to the sofa and sat down with him. "Now. Can you share anything with me? Some small part of what's bothering you?"

"It's all right. You have to go," he said, sulking.

"Don't be silly. It'll be fine. I'll just get my hair and robes soaking wet and tell everyone I ran into Peeves; they'll buy that. Tell me whatever you can. I'm here for you," she assured him.

He was quiet for a long time. Tears flowed freely down his reddened, tired-looking face. He trusted her, so why wouldn't he just talk to her?

Finally, he broke the stifling silence.

"I-I've been assigned to kill someone. Someone important. And if I don't do it . . . let's just say it'll be the end of the Malfoy line."

Ginny was stunned. Of all the things she imagined he might say, that was the not one of them. She breathed, "But why would he ask you to do it? You're only 16. If you were caught, y-you'd be throwing your whole life away."

"You think I don't know that?" he snapped. She winced at his reproach.

"Have you thought of going to Snape for help or maybe to Professor Dumbledore?" The advice was met with a surly glare.

Her heart and mind were racing, trying to think of a way out of all this, but nothing came to her. Finally, she asked in a weak voice, "Who is it? The Minister of Magic, or maybe a Muggle official?"

"Are you daft?" Draco snorted, "I can't tell you that!" He shivered even though Ginny could tell he had cast a Heating Charm on the room. She watched him with wide eyes and waited.

"Look," he finally said, sounding a little calmer. "I appreciate your concern. But it's nothing to do with you, Ginny. I have to face this on my own." He turned his hand over and stroked her cheek tenderly with the back of it. He was freezing, and she wrapped her hand around his to help warm him up. She fought the urge to cry for his lost, tortured soul. If only I could help him . . .

"I'm going back to the party now. If you ever need to talk, just let me know. Everything's going to be all right."

But Ginny could see in his eyes that he didn't believe her. She wasn't sure if she believed herself. She kissed him softly before leaving him alone with his thoughts.

* * * * *

The two lovers did not meet again for quite some time. Ginny risked sending Draco a few owls in between Christmas and the middle of February, continuing to urge him to seek help from a teacher, such as Snape or even Slughorn. Each time, Draco summarily ignored her advice. After she'd sent her third owl, she got a rather brusque response on her coin that simply read, "Bugger off."

She watched him in the Great Hall - that is, when he even bothered to show up for meals. With each passing week, she could see him looking paler and more ashen as he withdrew further into himself.

As if worrying about Draco wasn't enough to keep her up at night, her brother Ron was accidentally poisoned, on his birthday no less, while visiting Professor Slughorn. Harry had brought his best friend there to get an antidote for a love potion he had inadvertently taken. Ginny also faced the additional pressure of preparing for her upcoming O.W.L.s and the possibility of Gryffindor facing the Quidditch final without its star Chaser, Katie Bell. Little by little, everything began to cave in around her. With all that was happening, she was finding it harder to pretend that things were still going well with Dean.

Dean was also losing interest in their little charade. Boys in other houses were starting to catch him staring at them appreciatively in the Great Hall, during Apparation lessons, and on Hogsmeade visits - and some of them were starting to smile back. He decided that it would be better if he dropped his pointless obsession over his roommate, who was apparently only interested in girls.

One warm afternoon in April, Ginny and Dean walked together around the Black Lake. He started to say something but seemed a bit nervous. Then out of nowhere, he suggested that they break up.

"I know I agreed to this, and I'm grateful that you helped cover for me while I sorted all this out. It's just that . . . I think I found a bloke who might care for me. I know that if I had ever told my roommate about my feelings, it would have ended in disaster - not to mention, ruined our friendship." He stared off across the lake. "With you as my girl, he never even noticed."

Ginny reluctantly agreed. Dean had a right to date whomever he wanted to. If he didn't want to continue playing her boyfriend, she had to let him go. She pretended not to care, but he could sense her disappointment. He kissed her on the cheek. As they walked back slowly, the pair discussed how they would stage a public break-up once they got up to Gryffindor Tower.

As she hid beneath her bed hangings that night, she plotted how she could get Draco to meet with her. Soon, he would notice that she and Dean had broken up, and unless Harry's feelings had changed for her since Christmas, he would waste no time trying to take Dean's place. Meanwhile, Ron had been hinting pretty strongly that she should date his best friend, almost as if it were her duty, now that she and Dean were finally over. With the pressure mounting, it was imperative they she see Draco.

But how could she get him to meet her in the Lost Room, when he wouldn't respond to anything she'd written?

Finally, she came up with just the right words. She put them on the coin.

He'll be there, she told herself as she nestled into her blankets for a good nights rest.

* * * * *

"'You look like you could use a good shag'?" Draco drawled, reading from his coin as he entered the Lost Room once more. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I need to talk to you." Ginny said with a shrug. "It worked, didn't it?"

She was sitting on the couch. Draco stood across the room from her, thinking that getting close enough to touch her would be a very bad idea. He grumbled, "So talk."

"By now, you've probably noticed that Dean and I are no longer together. To the average person, this would mean that I am now available to date other boys. We both know that's not quite true, so I wanted to hear where you think we're heading with this."

"For disaster, most likely."

"Really," she said casually, fiddling with the purple threads that stuck out from the arm of the shabby-looking sofa. "Oh by the way, whatever happened to your 'assignment'?"

"It's still on; I have to go through with it. I will go through with it."

"So of all his clever little Death Eaters, You-Know-Who couldn't think of anyone else who could accomplish this 'special task'?"

"No, he didn't want to," he said through clenched teeth. "I'm the one. He has shown confidence in me because he knows I can do it."

"Draco, he's making a fool of you. Do you think your aunt couldn't have wiped out this person, whoever it is, without a moment's hesitation? If this person's death were really important, he or she'd be gone by now!"

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Are you suggesting that I can't do it?"

"No! I'm saying that he's using you, just like he uses everyone for his own sick, twisted means. Probably wants to get you killed. But you can still run - you have to fight!" She meant to sound strong, but her voice cracked on the last few words.

"I think you're wrong," he said coolly, still keeping his distance from her. Then he said the words she hoped she would never hear him say.

"I think you should forget about me, about us. I told you in the beginning it wouldn't work. We're too different."

"What? How can you say that now? You're the one who pursued this relationship. We . . . we love each other."

"Now who's being a fool, Ginny?"

Ignoring his snide remark, she ranted, "Draco, he is pulling your strings, all because of your father's screw-up at the Department of Mysteries--"

"My father did not screw up," he said, enunciating each word carefully. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

"No, of course not. He meant to get caught because Azkaban's so lovely in the summertime."

His nostrils flared. But instead of taking the bait, he surprised her by turning the tables.

"Look, you need put all this behind you and move on. Just think, Ginny - Harry Potter. The poor sod's been drooling over you for months now. Sounds like all your girlish dreams are coming true."

"You bastard," she hissed as she charged at him, hands flailing at his arms and face. He caught her by the wrists and forced her arms down to her side. Being so close to him, she could see how despondent and how very tired he really was.

Feeling defeated, he sighed. "All right, maybe I do love you. But if I did, I'd be a dead man if anyone knew . . . so it doesn't matter anymore. Go back to Gryffindor, and when Potter asks you out, say yes. Shag his brains out, if that's what you want."

"No, that's not what I want!" she insisted. Tears filled her eyes. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she said softly, "It's you, Draco. You know you're the only man I want."

"I am not a man, Ginny. I am just a coward running errands for a being that goes round killing his own kind."

"Then don't tell me that you love me. I cannot bear for you to walk away from me, knowing that you have those feelings for me."

"I told you, it doesn't matter what I feel." He said nothing more. She could see the pain in his eyes and knew this was killing him, even more than it was her.

Draco heaved a sigh and turned as if to leave. With a wave of his hand, the coin appeared in his palm. He held it out to her. She refused to take it and backed away, shaking her head.

"You-you can't mean it, Draco," she pleaded with him, her vision so blurred she could barely see the image on the coin. "Please, don't do this."

He looked at her stoically. "It's for the best, Ginny. In a few more days, you'll never want to see me again . . . not once I break your heart."

"Break my heart? What are you t-talking about?" she sputtered. She found it difficult to get the words out. "You won't break my heart. You wouldn't - I know you!"

"But I will. I don't want to, but . . . I told you before, I don't have a choice. If I do survive, you'll end up hating me."

"Don't talk like that! Of course, you'll survive!" She sniffed then bit her lip as the tears streamed down her cheeks. Suddenly, a sobering thought crossed her mind. "Were you assigned to kill Harry, or someone in my family?"

Instead of answering, he reached out for her and placed the coin into her unwilling hand. Then he framed her face with his hands and said, "Go back to Gryffindor. It's where you belong." He gave her one last, long languid kiss that took her breath away just before leaving.

Standing in the doorway, he gazed at her. She could have sworn she saw a single tear trickle down the side of his cheek.

"Goodbye, Ginny Weasley. Be on your guard for something big to happen."

* * * * *

As the days turned into weeks, she tried desperately to forget about Draco Malfoy - but it wasn't easy, considering he kept staring at her from across the Great Hall at every single meal. The longing in his eyes was undeniable. She wished he still had his coin. Ginny held onto both of them for now, taking them with her everywhere, hoping he might change his mind. She was tempted to speak with Dumbledore on his behalf, but she didn't want to do anything that might put Draco in jeopardy.

April gave way to May. One Monday morning, Ginny decided it was high time she stopped trying to steal glances of the Slytherin table. The evening before that, Pansy Parkinson had caught her staring at their table. The Gryffindor was looking directly at the boy whom the dark-haired witch possessively called 'her boyfriend'.

Wanting to avoid any nasty confrontations that involved Draco, Ginny tried to give her undivided attention to what Harry was saying. He was telling her how badly he wanted not to have to go back and live with his Muggle relatives once school got out. They seemed to have this conversation every spring, around the time of the Quidditch Final.

Picking a strawberry out of the oatmeal she had been playing with, she said, "It sounds dreadful. I don't know how you do it, Harry."

"Well, I'd much rather spend my summer with you. I mean, at the Burrow," he added quickly. Changing the subject, he laughed. "Can you believe it? Our last Quidditch match is this week."

"I know, what a year, huh? I'm so glad Katie's back. Gives a good fighting chance."

Ginny regretted the words the minute they left her lips. It must have sounded like she never thought Dean was a very good Chaser. Hoping Harry wouldn't notice that she was blushing, she set about finishing the rest of her oatmeal. But he didn't comment and instead offered to walk her to her first class. She smiled in agreement. Casting a glance over her shoulder toward Draco and his housemates, she left the Great Hall in mild disappointment . . . because this time, he wasn't looking back. Still, she could feel his cold grey eyes on her back and the hate that radiated from them as Harry placed his hand in the small of her back and gently guided her out the door.

The rest of the week was a blur for Ginny. Harry hexed Draco, thinking that Sectumsempra was a routine jinx that would do minimal damage. Instead, he practically killed him. It was all she could do not to kill Harry. She wanted to rush to Draco's side and comfort him, but she knew that would be disastrous, for her as well as him. Even sneaking into the hospital wing at night using Harry's invisibility cloak would be risky.

To keep her mind occupied, she focused on the upcoming Quidditch match. She wanted to help Gryffindor win the house cup, so she boosted her mood with a Cheering Charm just before the game. Their victory was brilliant, and she was ecstatic. Afterward, she let Harry kiss her, even responded positively . . . she don't know what came over her. How could she betray Draco like that?

Then that horrible, tragic night came. The big event Draco had told her to be ready for. Death Eaters were inside Hogwarts, and with them, Fenrir Greyback, the notorious werewolf who was known for biting people while not transformed in an attempt to infect as many humans as possible. She was terrified, even though Harry had given her, Ron, and Hermione a dose of Felix Felicis to make them lucky and strengthen their courage. Courage was what they needed most right now.

In spite of their luck, so much evil happened in a matter of hours. So many lives were changed, destroyed, taken . . .

Ginny could barely rest that night, unable to stop her thoughts or her tears. She kept mulling everything over in her mind, thinking of all that had happened, and contemplating how different everything was going to be. Was Bill doomed to the life of a werewolf? Would they close Hogwarts? How could Dumbledore be gone? Would she ever see Draco again? Would he come back, or would he end up in Azkaban in a cell close to his father's? But he hadn't killed anyone, or used an Unforgivable Curse - had he?

But no answers came to the questions that filled her mind.

All of a sudden, she sat up with a gasp that left her feeling hollow inside. It was as if she had been hit in the stomach with a Bludger that was going 50 miles an hour and the air was gradually leaving her body.

No. It couldn't have been him - not Dumbledore. The man trusted him . . . He made him a Prefect, for heaven's sake!

She swallowed hard. Draco didn't actually think he would have the power to . . .

How could he have been given so large a task as killing Professor Dumbledore? It would have been a suicide mission. The Hogwarts' headmaster was far too powerful to be taken down by the likes of Draco Malfoy.

No wonder he was so afraid.

Ginny was relieved that he hadn't gone through with it. But she had to face the facts: He would have, if he'd have had the courage. She shuddered at what might have been, had Draco won that Felix Felicis instead of Harry in their Advanced Potions class.

But I know him! He wouldn't have done it. It's not in him. He only did it . . . to save his family. His wretched, worthless parents. Not worth two House-Elves put together.

Anguished tears flowed down her pillow. I hate them both. I hate them for putting their son in peril like that. Selfish, hateful people . . . they deserve to die.

Ginny awoke the next morning, determined to help Harry bring about Voldemort's downfall. It was the only thing that stood between her and what she truly wanted: To save the man she loved from a life of servitude to the Dark Lord. And that . . . well, surely that would be simple, compared to the monumental challenge she was facing now.

She was the only one who knew the real Draco Malfoy, other than maybe his parents, if they knew their son at all. Now she would have to convince everyone who mattered to her that Draco was not an evil Death Eater. She had seen his forearm, and there was no mark. He had been coerced by people he trusted . . . coerced into attempting something he was not prepared for, and he didn't have the fortitude to refuse. He was an innocent, a puppet.

Yes, Draco had threatened Professor Dumbledore, but it wasn't because he hated him or wanted him to die. He only did it to save his wretched family. A family not worthy of his love.

Facing the arduous task of persuading so many others who were dead-set against Draco would take all her cunning, as well as a few select memories. She had to get her hands on a Pensieve. It was the only way.

Dumbledore had one. I wonder if Harry still has the latest password to his office . . .

Standing before the mirror, Ginny brushed her hair quickly. There wasn't a moment to lose. She practically ran down the staircase to the common room. "Harry!" she called. "Wait up!"

~The End~

Notes: Hope there was enough angst for you. I prefer a hopeful ending; if you were just looking for a good cry, you could stop reading it before she woke up the next morning. Thank you for reading. Comments appreciated!