His Memories

His Memories

Chapter Three

Choices

So you walked with me for a while, bared your naked soul. And you told me of your plan, how you would never let them know. In the morning of the night, you cried a long lost child. And I tried, oh I tried to hold you, but you were young and you were wild... ...Caught in your eyes Lost in your name I will never be the same... ~Melissa Etheridge, I will never be the same

Ginny stirred, rolling her head to one side then the other causing strands of her auburn hair to fall gently across her face tickling her cheeks. Slowly, she drew her right arm up to brush the hair aside, then let it rest over her forehead. Her sleep had been dreamless, and as she regained consciousness, images of black ink streamed across a faded yellow backdrop in her minds eye. Why did you choose me, she had written and watched those words slowly dissolve into the page. Several minutes passed before, one-by-one, the words 'You imply I had a choice' appeared.

What ensued was something she was not proud of, but it was something that had to be done. Her words spilled onto the page as though she wrote them with acid rather than ink; had the pages not been indestructible, they would have been eaten away. Not since the day she told the diary how Harry died had she become so overtaken with enough emotion to lash out at the book.

The diary truly was Harry, however, and allowed her to write all she was feeling before it finally explained everything: Why it had to be her, Why he never told anyone, Why he felt terrible for not doing things differently. In Harry's handwriting, it was ten pages of explanation, apology, and feeling. She'd only made it through the first before the fatigue that had been stalking her all morning finally caught up with her.

Ginny stretched out her arms, tensing and relaxing the muscles before making an attempt to move the rest of her body. With a muffled groan, she tightened her stomach pulling her into a sitting position. Her eyelids fluttered open focusing on the only light in the room: a ribbon of silver moonlight striping the maroon duvet, her black school robes, and the flaxen pages of the diary that lay open in her lap. The pages still overflowed with Harry's explanation but she couldn't finish reading just yet. Having missed lunch, dinner, and her classes in between, she was starving.

Her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness when the door creaked open.

"Ginny," a voice whispered. "You awake yet?"

"Yes," she said groggily and her vision was immediately bombarded with color as the every torch in the room was illuminated simultaneously. Squinting, she brought her arm up to her face to block the sensory overload.

"I told McGonagall you were up here sleeping; so soundly, in fact, that I couldn't even shake you awake." Ginny followed Beth's voice as she crossed the room to her four-poster bed. "She didn't seem to be concerned. Is this some Head Girl privilege to just be able to miss class without an excuse?"

"It's not that," Ginny began but left her words hanging. She had an excuse and no intention of explaining it to her. Beth was a vulture when it came to gossip and rumors, and telling her was a good at telling the whole school.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with why your boyfriend was seen in the entrance hall right before lunch?" Beth said 'boyfriend' as she always did: loathing, mixed with sympathy, and just a touch of jealousy.

"Of course it did," she wanted to say, but "I wasn't feeling well today," was the lame excuse she gave instead. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the light allowing her to focus on her roommate. The accusing stare of Beth's hazel eyes was framed by silken chestnut hair tumbling over both shoulders in gentle waves.

"Sure, and that's why you were wearing school robes with your shoes on and lying next to a pile of books. It must have been intense reading for you to fall asleep with a book on your chest." Beth smirked and nonchalantly flicked her hand through her hair. Ginny went pale and could feel her throat go dry. Word about the diary had slipped out once before, though she didn't know how, and that was why she'd been absent from classes.

"Do you have a point?" Ginny asked with faint curiosity thinly veiled in sarcasm, hoping to hide her anxiety. Beth's eyes narrowed. "I did see Draco today, but I don't know what you are implying." Beth shuddered at the mention of Draco's name as most people did at Voldemort's name. This reaction had no meaning for Ginny because it was typical. There were only a few students in Gryffindor who accepted Ginny's relationship with him; Elizabeth was not among their numbers. Not only was he a Slytherin, but also the rumors about his father's involvement in Harry's death festered (with Beth's help) two years later.

Although wide-awake after sleeping for eight hours, Ginny was growing tired of her roommate's prying. She excused herself after casually slipping the diary back into her trunk along with a couple other schoolbooks, and went down to the kitchens to nick some food. When she returned to her room, Carol and Tess were there charming pigment in on their finger and toenails, and Beth was surveying her Transfiguration text with mild interest.

Ginny took the diary and her Arithmancy book down to the common room after changing into her pajamas and dressing gown. The soft soles of her red slippers made a scuffling sound on the area rug as she crossed the common room to an oversized armchair in front of the fire. Only a few students remained, but the room was still quiet and she could read in peace. She curled up and discretely shoved the diary inside her book and began reading, from the beginning.

.

This is the explanation I should have given you a long time ago, but as you'll see, I couldn't give it to you until now. Although as a diary I have no concept of time, I know enough time has elapsed, and as many times as we've exchanged words, I've altered the words that follow. I never wanted to hurt anyone, I never wanted to hurt you, and I never wanted to force someone else to fight my battles for me. I never wanted pity for the way I was treated growing up, and I certainly never wanted pity after I learned I was dying.

You have asked forty-three times why I chose you, and forty-two times I've refused to answer your question. Please understand that it wasn't because I didn't trust you, because I do or you wouldn't be reading this. Several safeguards were in place so that even if the diary fell into the wrong hands, it would be useless. Each step, performed by either you or Dumbledore had to be completed in the right order before the full power of this diary could be accessed. Only after you wrote the first words could I respond. If anyone else had tried to write, nothing would have happened. The second was for you to explain how Harry died, in your own words. Third, was for Dumbledore to acknowledge that he'd explained part of the events leading up to my death. Fourth, was completed today when Dumbledore said you were ready to hear everything. Now I can no longer withhold anything from you. The last step will be explained when you've finished reading this, but you may complete it only when you feel you are ready.

There was never a doubt in my mind that the diary should go to you. Not because of your experience with Tom Riddle's diary, but because you are the strongest person I know. To prove that to you, I have to tell you everything, beginning with my last summer.

Being cared about is something I never knew until I came to Hogwarts. I would have settled for being hated if it meant the Dursleys acknowledged my presence, but they treated me with indifference. They told me I was a burden more times than I cared to count. You would think that after a while I would just block them out, but I couldn't. It wasn't in my nature to return the indifference.

That is why I savored every day I was able to spend at the Burrow around a family who actually cared about me. Your family took me and treated me like I belonged there. And never once did they pity me for how bad I had it growing up, or that I never knew my parents, or that I never knew I was a wizard until I turned eleven. That was the worst feeling. I hated pity, and I didn't want it.

And why does all this matter? Because if I had told anyone what was happening to me, that's exactly what I would have received. Pity. Did I mention I hate it? That was the one thing I could never get past with Hermione. She was a wonderful friend, and caring, too caring. She could never have taken this diary because of that.

You understand what I mean by this because you hate pity too. You're probably smiling as you read this because I remember you saying that several times over the summer. You hated if people felt sorry for your family, or for you being the youngest child and only girl. You tried so hard to break out of your family mold and make a name for yourself, and you've succeeded. I admire that; Harry admired that even if he never said it to you. It took a lot of courage for you to start dating Malfoy, against your parents' wishes, not to mention his parents'.

.

Ginny paused, taking a deep breath and pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. She wasn't prepared for the diary to be so forthcoming, and now information was flooding her mind, feelings of guilt, feelings of anger, but not pity. She smiled and tilted her head back. The high stone ceiling of the common room was alive with dancing shadows cast by the many flickering torches on the wall. It gave the illusion of being enchanted, and was managing to hypnotize her. Her mind began to wander, recalling one of the many arguments she's had with her parents...

"Virginia Weasley, you're much too young to be thinking this seriously about boys." What Molly Weasley meant to say was that she shouldn't be thinking seriously about Draco Malfoy -- ever.

"Mum, I'm fifteen. I know you think of me as your baby, but face it; I'm growing up." Ginny flashed her prefect pin, which only made her mother even more furious. A howler in front of the school would have been easier to deal with than a scolding from her mother about how bad the son of Lucius Malfoy was.

"I forbid you."

"To what?" She was just about fed up with this treatment. "To see the good in someone?" Molly Weasley was speechless, but it did no good. It only allowed a break in the argument for her father to cut in.

Arthur Weasley was more levelheaded and spoke rationally, but he only repeated what his wife said. It didn't matter to Ginny though; she just wasn't in the mood to have this conversation with her parents on platform nine-and-three-quarters. Ginny stood with her shoulders set and her arms folded across her chest, mimicking her mother's stance to prove she could be every bit as intimidating. She lacked the shrill voice that her mother had honed through the years of scolding six older brothers, and relied more on the critical thinking skills inherited from her father. She was quickly learning that the most effective way to counter her mother's arguments was to make her stop and think. Unfortunately, their row had already drawn several passing glances from the other students, and their parents, including Draco's.

Without another word, Ginny gave her parents each a kiss on the cheek and stepped onto the nearest car. Once out of sight of them, all she wanted to do was scream, but there were too many students around, and she had to keep her composure. She was a fifth year prefect after all.

Ginny made her way up to the front car where she knew Draco would be. She had seen him board already which was the reason the argument had begun. She took a seat next to Draco and he slung his arm around her shoulder allowing her to rest her head on his chest. He must have known about the argument she just had because as they sat together in their own world, he whispered to her, "I'm here for you," and gently kissed her forehead. So a Gryffindor and a Slytherin were friends...more than friends. It couldn't have been the first time.

"Do you to mind?" Ginny heard Hermione ask as she walked into the car.

"We're both prefects, Granger. Is there some rule against us sitting together?" Draco didn't wait for her to answer. "And not that I really care, but shouldn't 'prefect Potter' be up here? Or did he not want to leave Weasley alone?"

Ginny nudged in his side Draco then looked over at Hermione who seemed worried about something.

"I need to talk to you, Ginny."

"If it's about the scene my mother made, I don't want to hear it."

"No, it's," Hermione scanned the car realizing everyone was staring at them. "Follow me."

Reluctantly Ginny stood up, but gave Draco a kiss on the cheek before she left the car with Hermione. They passed Cho on the way through the train, and she made a point to remind them that as Head Girl, she wanted to speak to all the prefects after the train left the platform. Ginny could tell that Hermione wasn't the least bit interested in listening to Cho. Instead, she pulled on Ginny's arm and led her to a compartment about halfway down the train.

Sitting quietly inside were Harry and Ron. Harry's arms were wrapped around his stomach, and he was hunched over.

"Are you all right, Harry?" asked Ginny.

Harry shook his head, Hermione looked concerned, and Ron just rolled his eyes saying, "I told you not to eat that fourth chocolate frog."

Harry sighed. "It wasn't the candy, although the compost flavored bean didn't help."

"Ron, you always know the right thing to say, don't you? Just come with me." Hermione pulled on the sleeve of Ron's pullover and lead him out of the compartment. Ginny took a seat across from Harry.

"Ginny, I wanted to ask you something?" Harry said quietly just as the door closed.

If this was going where she thought it was, it would be short and she'd soon be storming out of the compartment. She nodded after thinking for a moment.

"Do you love Draco?"

"Didn't we go through this already. Ron put you up to this, right? My mum?" Ginny huffed and shook her head.

"No, and I don't think she had the right lecture you on the platform like that.

"Do you love him?" Harry persisted.

"I told you I have feelings for him, and he cares about me." It was the truth, although she wouldn't admit that her mother was right and that she was too young to know what true love was.

"Do you trust him?"

That was a different story, and she thought she'd made her point at the Burrow that summer. She stood up, ready to leave, but there was something about the way he looked at her that made her sit back down. "Of course I trust him, Harry. You know the tension that exists between my family and his, so for him to just defy his father like that and ask me out makes me believe that there is more to him than what everyone else sees."

"Is he really defying his father?"

"You better not be suggesting what I think you are."

"Just be careful." Harry's gaze fell to the floor...

Ginny woke up to find the common room empty. After eight hours of sleep in the middle of the day, she still managed to doze off in a chair in the common room. Now she had a pinch in her neck, and her arm was starting to go numb. After changing positions, she continued reading, no longer bothering to hide the diary in her Arithmancy book.

.

I spoke to Malfoy on the train the day we left for Hogwarts. After you spent the whole summer telling me how much he meant to you (which I thought was amazing for someone so young) I had to make sure he wasn't going to hurt you. Malfoy did have a bit of a reputation although I'm sure most of it was exaggerated on the Gryffindor side of the school. Before he told me to sod off and stay out of his business, he gave me several reasons why he wanted to be with you. In a brief moment of weakness, if you wanted to call it that, he admitted that he wanted your family to accept him. I had never seen him so sincere before, but then he promptly returned to being a smug git and that's when he dismissed me. It was a shame Ron couldn't have witnessed Malfoy's behavior. Maybe then he would see what you see in him.

The morning after the welcoming feast, my head was swimming from the excitement of being back at Hogwarts. At least I thought that was it until I blacked out in charms. Ron took me to the hospital wing, but I sent him back to class telling him I'd met up with him during Divination. Madam Pomfrey was immediately concerned, and called Dumbledore down. They sent me off to Divination without telling me what they were worried about. In a horrible twist of irony, Trelawney foresaw my death. For the record she said I'd be shot with a Muggle shotgun on a deserted moor. She was way off. The whole class, even Lavender and Parvati rolled their eyes at the prediction. I did as well, but in the back of my mind I couldn't stop thinking about what Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey would not tell me.

After that everything moved rather quickly. Dumbledore called me into his office the next day to tell me what he thought was wrong. Then after Snape did some tests on my blood, he found traces of the potion. Once that was confirmed, Dumbledore knew exactly what was going on and why the potion was given to me. He planned to put me into hiding under the Fidelius Charm. Unfortunately, before we could do that, I received a letter threatening my family, friends, and their families. The fire at the Dursley's house was not an accident; they were target by Death Eaters and were to serve as an example of what could happen it I didn't come forward. I couldn't bear for anything like that to happen your family or the Burrow, and, yes, I even felt bad for the Dursleys. We immediately began working on the diary so that if Voldemort lived, I could still be used against him.

I was not created to spout off words of regret, but I won't let that stop me from apologizing to you. I wish I could change how I did things. I could have looked past the pity if it meant my friends were there to comfort me. It was lonely. I wish I could have told you all this in a different way, or at least to your face.

I'm sure there is more I could say and eventually it will all come out. I hope you understand why I chose you.

.

Ginny turned the next page to see that it was blank. When she turned back, all the previous pages were empty.

"Thank you, Harry," she said and closed the empty book.

.~*~.

Morning classes only served to frustrate Ginny. The relief she felt after the diary told her everything was short lived. She now felt an overwhelming guilt for being impatient and above all careless. Something she had done allowed Lucius Malfoy to find out about the diary and now she looked on everyone with suspicion.

She only wrote in her room, a quite corner of the library, near the edge of the forest, or sitting on her favorite rock by the lake. In the beginning, unfortunately, she hadn't been so careful about who saw her writing and did almost anywhere. Then one day just before a prefects meeting Cho walked up behind her and made a comment about the Chamber of Secrets after seeing her write, and the diary respond. Ginny did her best to be indifferent about it, but inside it made her nervous. No one was supposed to know about what happened in the Chamber, or that Tom Riddle was using the diary to act through her. Harry's diary later confessed to telling Cho about it during the brief time they dated during his fifth year. Ginny was mildly relieved, but became more discrete about where she wrote.

The library was becoming increasingly crowded at the term progressed, yet her quiet corner was still unoccupied. It was cold, dark, and a little too close to the Restricted Section, but candles and a warming charm created a comforting ambiance, if you didn't mind the occasional muffled scream from a cursed book. Ginny leaned back in her chair after charming it with extra cushioning. She was sore from falling asleep sideways in an armchair and her knees and shoulder ached from the fall she'd taken in the forest the day before.

Before she could even think about her schoolwork, Ginny pulled out the diary.

.

~ Thank you.

Is there any more I can tell you?

~ There is, and I'll get to that. I just wanted to tell you that I think I finally understand why you did things the way you did. I can't say that I agree with them, but then it doesn't matter anymore. We've moved past excuses and into apologies. I owe you one because of my carelessness. You've shown just how much trust you have in me, and I made a mistake. It will never happen again, I swear.

You don't need to apologize.

~ Yes I do.

It would make you feel better?

~ Yes. I will do all I can to find out how Draco's father knew about this diary. I owe you that.

None of that matters anymore, Virginia.

~ Why? I'll never know who I can trust. I already feel uncomfortable around my classmates and this is one more thing to alienate me.

I can't stop you from searching to give you piece of mind, but do be careful. Whoever was responsible was discrete. Not even Dumbledore knows how it happened.

~ I'll be careful.

.

Ginny leaned back, tickling her chin with the end of her quill. The creaking chair protested being used as she rocked back on two legs. She often did this when she was deep in thought, this time was the exception. She wasn't thinking about anything except the building pool of candle wax perched precariously at the lip of the brass sconce. She exhaled deeply directing it at the flame. Seconds later a final drip sent the wax spilling over the edge and spattering on the tabletop.

One final drip, she thought. One final step.

With a sudden lurch, she leaned forward. The sound of the front chair legs hitting the stone floor echoed in the quiet alcove.

.

~ How do I do it? Not that I'm ready, but will you explain to me the final step to me?

Yes.

~ Well?

When the time comes, all you have to do is write your full name on the first page of this book. It seems like a simple step, but had you tried it before any of the others were completed, it wouldn't work. Once you've done this, the process begins. Each time you write in the diary, I give power to you. It will be slow and subtle and it will not be like Tom Riddle's diary. Let me repeat that: It will not be like Tom Riddle's diary. You will have my abilities, my protection against Voldemort, and my inexplicable yet useful immunity to certain Unforgivable curses.

~ And you won't take physical form at my expense like Tom did?

Briefly, if I'm needed, and even then it won't kill you.

~ I think I know the answer, but here goes. I realize that the diary is only part of the plan. How do I get close enough to Voldemort once I've completed the last step?

Your relationship with Draco, his tolerance of his father, and his father's position in the Death Eater circle.

~ Care to explain? You're being a bit cryptic.

Everyone knew Wormtail was at Voldemort's side, but no one respected him, especially Voldemort. Hiding out as a rat for twelve years did nothing for his social standing. Lucius on the other hand had strategically placed himself in the Ministry. He had the legitimate political connections Voldemort wanted and as a result, Lucius was given a higher position among the Death Eaters. Plus he is a powerful Dark Wizard.

~ So now I'm expected to strategically place myself in the Malfoy clan? I can't stand that man, and the diary is not safe near him.

.

Ginny didn't wait for a response.

.

~ Yes, I love Draco, but what you are saying, well, it's asking a lot.

You are a Gryffindor.

~ I was afraid you would say that.

Sorry I had to play that card. But you are strong, and you wouldn't just do something because I told you. If that was the case, I never would have given this book to you.

~ You are right, I never would just do anything blindly, but you make an interesting point. Eventually I will write my name in this book because I have not been given a choice. I will have done so because you told me to, and I won't have a choice in the end.

You do have a choice. You could destroy this diary.

~ How, I thought that was impossible.

Only a curse by you will expel me from these pages.

~ And you know I could never do that. I witnessed your murder; I'm not about to cause the rest of you to die. Some choice.

.

Ginny closed the book, not waiting for the diary to respond. A debate on the morality of choices was not something she was in the mood for. She charmed the book, stuffed it in the bottom of her bag, and pulled out her Muggle studies book. She didn't actually read it, just flipped through the pages glancing at all the pictures of ordinary Muggle items that wizards seemed to be fascinated with.

In the morning, Ginny went directly to the Headmaster's office. She had thought about the diary more than she had actually slept that night.

"Candied Apple," she said to the stone gargoyle. The statue lurched into motion causing a low-pitched rumble of stone scraping against stone.

Dumbledore was reading the Daily Prophet and set it aside as Ginny approached his desk.

"Miss Weasley, you are looking well today."

"Thanks Professor, I fell much better."

The Headmaster's eyes twinkled, and a slight smile could be seen under his beard. "Have a seat. Are you here as Head Girl, or Hogwarts student?"

"Neither," she said. "Keeper of Harry's diary, actually."

"Oh?" his bushy white eyebrows lifted, as did his spectacles.

"Harry, the diary, told me everything, including the safeguards. So naturally I'm concerned with the last one. I still don't know how close I am to making a decision," she smirked, remembering that her only choice was at what point she would go through with the last step. She didn't consider destroying the diary a choice. "When does this need to happen?"

"I am pleased to hear that you are taking your time with this, and I know you will think this through logically before making a decision. That is why Harry chose you."

"I know," she whispered. "I'm a little unsure of how to--position myself effectively. What exactly--" Ginny paused and stared with big eyes at the Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sighed. "Only what is necessary."

The Headmaster was not sounding very reassuring. 'Only what is necessary' could mean a lot of things, most of them undesirable.

"And what about Harry's wand? It was snapped in half, and buried with him."

"Your wand will be most useful in this matter."

"Why? If Harry's abilities are in me, wouldn't his wand be best?" Ginny was confused, an unfortunate condition that was dominating her life at the moment.

"Did Harry ever tell you that his wand was the brother wand to Voldemort's?" She noticed him momentarily turn his head toward his Phoenix.

"He did, but what does that mean?"

"Their wands' cores were taken from Fawkes here. Brother wands cannot face each other in a duel, so you see, your wand will be more effective." The blood drained from Ginny's face. Dumbledore was implying she would have to duel Voldemort. Not an item on her List of things to do before I die, but certainly topping her List of things that will make me die.

"I can't..." she said, but in her heart she knew it would mean letting Harry down. "...just yet."

.~*~.

As the Hogsmeade weekend approached, Ginny became more and more exhausted from lack of sleep. "I can't do it," she would say, waking up from a nightmare. Every night, the same one: surrounded by everyone who ever cared about Harry telling her that if she denied this, she would betray Harry's memory. She tried to tell her roommates that she was having nightmares about taking N.E.W.T.s; those she could have handled. Looming over her was a twenty ton weight ready to come crashing down on her if she failed. She had to do something, and was hoping Draco would have the answer, or at least a few comforting words.

After a quick breakfast, Ginny left for Hogsmeade. She wasn't alone; several eager third years, who had finally realized that Hogsmeade weekends made convenient dates, were also headed down to the village, but they were several steps in front of her. Bits of chatter between the young students caught her ear, reminding her of her first Hogsmeade weekends. The atmosphere was different then. The isolated Death Eater incident at the Quidditch World Cup was forgotten as the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students arrived for the Triwizard Tournament. She was still pining for Harry, and Draco was Malfoy--just another Slytherin.

Harry stayed at the Burrow for half of the summer the year after the tournament, and she became closer to him. Once they were back at school, being near Harry inevitably brought her closer to Draco. She never appreciated how he insulted her family, and was determined to make him think differently of them.

How very Slytherin of you,Draco used to tell her.

And one then day, Draco finally saw her for who she was. Although she was barely fifteen, she knew there was more to her fixation with the Slytherin. Forbidden fruit? No, a complex soul who only to opened up to her. His attitude toward the rest of the world hadn't changed, and her brother hated Draco more than anything, even spiders. But all she saw was someone who loved her because of her smile, because she could never manage to part her hair evenly, because her voice became higher when she was nervous. She couldn't let their brief falling out earlier in the week destroy what they had.

A broad smile grew on her weary face, and as she saw Draco's familiar profile casually waiting for her by the gate. Of course there was nothing casual about him that day. Suddenly she felt plain in her thick school cloak next to his emerald green robes. The sun was low in the sky, painting the high wisps of clouds a light pink. A warm feeling rushed through her when she took Draco's extended hand.

Sincerity had returned to his face, and the events from earlier in the week were almost forgotten. He kissed her on the cheek and she kissed him on his lips while slipping her hand from his to take his arm. Ginny held his arm tight resting her head against it and letting him lead her down the road into the village. "Thank you," she whispered, but when he asked what for, she simply smiled, and squeezed his arm.

"Does this mean you feel better about what happened this week?"

"No," she said coldly then lightened her tone. "I know why you did it though, and I've had plenty of time to rationalize it."

They walked around Hogsmeade, talking here and there, but never once letting go of each other. This was the side of Draco she knew, perfect gentleman, not like the stranger who lead her though the forest, but a friend. They finally entered the Three Broomsticks after spending over an hour in the crisp spring air. He held the door and ushered her in placing his hand on her shoulder as she stepped over the threshold. The volume of the establishment dropped as they entered, not an uncommon reaction especially since Draco looked like a younger version of his father.

They chose a quiet corner, as quiet as any place could be on a Hogsmeade weekend, particularly a cold one. Ginny ordered a hot apple cider to take the chill off of the morning, and Draco, his usual scotch now that he was old enough to drink. She would be able taste it on his lips when she kissed him -- something she savored but never admitted to liking.

"It's ten o'clock in the morning Draco, isn't it a bit early for that?" she said, drawing her lips in a line.

"It's just a scotch," Draco said innocently. Ginny raised her eyebrows. "It's been a long week." Draco took a sip of his drink.

"Oh?" Her eyes narrowed. Maybe it was the scotch, maybe it was fatigue, or maybe just a matter of time, but something snapped inside. She had bottled up all her tension, and let it explode in Draco's face. "You think it's been a long week? You have no idea what I've been through."

"People are watching."

In a passive aggressive tone (more aggressive than passive, though), she simply said, "I don't care."

"Well, I do, so keep your voice down." She felt his leg tangle around hers at the same time he took her hands. She tried to pull them away but he only held them tighter.

"And you don't want your reputation tarnished by an argument with your girlfriend?" Again she tried to pull back. "Let go," she said through her gritted teeth.

"Not until you tell me what's going on? Just this morning you told me you understood, and now you're mad again?"

When she couldn't answer him, he only drew her closer. She was almost pulled off her chair. Several tables full of students were looking in their direction; she could almost hear the gossip formulating in their minds. In her brief distraction, Draco leaned forward and kissed her. There was no meaning, no passion, and no purpose behind the kiss other than to shut her up. "I'm not angry with you," she finally whispered in his ear. "I'm just...confused."

"Why?"

"The diary." Ginny sat back in her chair, Draco let her. Her eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at him. "The other day...a lot of things were said." Draco nodded, looking guiltily back at her. "I know you saw what was written, that he doesn't trust you. Are you jealous?"

Draco closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths before opening his mouth to offer his explanation. "I've always been jealous of Potter, and though I tried to hide it, everyone knew. I also know he didn't trust me, but I didn't trust him." One corner of his mouth began to turn up.

"What?"

"I do have one thing Potter didn't. You're my girlfriend."

"Right then, we'll see," Ginny smirked. "So how do you plan on making it up to me?"

"I'm going to marry you."

Ginny's eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. Was he saying what she though he was saying? The volume in the room increased, but everyone might as well have been speaking Gobbledegookbecause all the heard was Draco saying, not asking, that he would marry her.

"Oh really?" she finally said, her voice cracking. "Have you asked my father yet?"

"No, but would it matter?"

"Of course," she said as if it was completely obvious, but then jokingly replied, "But he'll probably say no."

"Well, I'm not asking just yet, I mean I don't even have a ring." Draco was unusually nervous, she could tell it in his voice. That, and he was biting his bottom lip like a little kid asking for candy. "This probably isn't the best time to ask you, not after we've had a fight."

"Everything in it's own time," Ginny said softly. "My parents will come around." She held Draco's hands tightly, and he did the same. "You know I'll be expecting fireworks and fairy lights when you finally ask me properly." She gave him a coy smile, and looked down at their interlocked fingers.

Mum will be furious, she thought.