REX & REGINA

Pairing: Draco/Ginny

Rating: T

Summary: When Draco notices Ginny sneaking around, he becomes determined to find out what she's up to.

Spoilers: DH

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: One-shot. Written for the D/G fic exchange on livejournal.

Pansy's ringing disgust cut through the early morning chatter that permeated the Great Hall, dragging Draco's attention from his much needed morning cup of coffee. He peered at her, a weary look on his face. It was a long accepted fact that attempting to communicate with him before his morning dose of caffeine had managed to leach its way into his system was an unspeakably bad idea. Like with many things that irked Draco, however, Pansy simply did not seem to care.

"I've got Lavender Brown," Daphne replied, her nose wrinkling despite the gentle, melodic way she had spoken.

"Weasley's worse than Lavender. A million times worse. At least Brown is capable of pretending that she's not an obnoxious brat."

"Lavender dated a Weasley," Daphne argued, clearly affronted at having her concerns dismissed so easily.

"Weasley is a Weasley. She's had all that muggle-loving nonsense instilled in her since birth. She dated Potter."

"What are you talking about?" Draco blurted out, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

Pansy immediately narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "I knew that you weren't listening!" she accused. "Really, Draco. This is important."

Draco opened his mouth to backtrack and then promptly closed it again. It was not worth the effort. From experience, he knew that Pansy's little tantrums usually blew over within a few minutes. Besides, he was not convinced that she was being entirely serious. Sometimes she just enjoyed goading him.

Instead, he turned to Daphne, who was probably far more inclined to give him an answer, he decided. She was also less likely to cause him to regret his decision to ask.

"Alecto Carrow's mentoring scheme," she said. "You should have a letter about it as well, assigning you a student to mentor."

Draco glanced down at the stack of unopened post beside his plate. He had begun to look through it, but had stopped when he had reached an envelope with his mother's familiar script on the front. He could not stand having to read about how proud she was of him again – not when he knew that her carefully chosen words hid the truth of what was really happening at the manor.

Sure enough, as he leafed through the stack, he came across an envelope that closely resembled the ones that Pansy and Daphne possessed. A cursory glance down the table revealed that most of the Slytherin students also possessed such letters, with the exception of the first years.

As he opened his, Daphne added, "They've assigned us each a student – a pureblood. We're to mentor them in being pureblooded."

"Or," Blaise interrupted from his position down the table, "in how to 'make the best of our unique and special heritage', as the letter puts it. I've got Michael Corner. Shouldn't be too bad. He's not stupid – we can both play at it until the Gryffindors derail the idea. They're bound to rebel. The sooner the better in my opinion."

Pansy brightened noticeably. Draco followed her eyes to the Gryffindor table, and a pretty, freckled face looking up at them from a sea of similarly astonished ones.

"Well," she said, "at least I'll be able to show her the error of her ways."

Draco frowned, and then promptly turned his expression into an appropriately superior sneer as he realised he was still being observed, a pair of quick brown eyes watching him closely from across the room. It seemed he was destined not to be able to get away from Ginny Weasley.

It had been scarcely more than twenty minutes after the Hogwarts Express had pulled away from the platform that redheaded irritant called Ginny Weasley was reintroduced into his life.

As with most things concerning that particular girl, it had happened in the most unpredictable way. Secure in the resumption of his popularity among his fellow members Slytherin, and the wary – if disgruntled – regard that the other students now held him in, Draco had been making his way to his compartment when she had come barrelling out of the loo. The impact had left Draco flattened against the window with his arms full someone small and soft. To his horror, it had taken a moment for him to realise precisely who his instincts had led him to catch. It could be argued who had pushed who away first. Ginny's squeak was followed by a manlier version from Draco.

What could not be argued was the look on Ginny's face as she realised into whose embrace she had fallen. So vehement was the look of disgust that Draco would have taken a step backwards, if he had been able to. He would not have been too surprised if she had decided to swing for him. He was almost certain that her fingers had twitched to do so.

"I'd heard you were back, but I was sure that it couldn't be true," she said, her jaw tight and her eyes blazing.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same."

"I don't see why. I'm not a player in the league of evil, after all."

"No, you're just the star of the league of misguided morons."

"Did they run out of jobs for someone of your skills?" she countered. "I understand it must be difficult to come up with tasks designed for the incompetent."

Draco stiffened.

Sensing triumph, Ginny smirked. "Let's make a deal, Malfoy. I'll stay out of your way, if you stay out of mine. That way, I won't have to put up with your idiocy, and you won't have to undergo a ritual humiliation every time we run into each other."

Draco had been more than pleased with her suggestion, though he had disputed the latter part of it. Unfortunately, she had far from honoured her side of the bargain. It seemed to him that at least once a day she did something that was sure to put her in his way. It might be something as innocuous as bumping into him in the corridor, or as he was walking to or from the Quidditch pitch. Or it may be something far less innocuous, such as finding her standing in the kitchens, in front of the teacher's food, with all the ingredients necessary to produce a puking potion. For months now he had been running into her unexpectedly, much to his consternation.

On the one occasion that he had remarked on her frequent appearances, it had prompted an amused laugh from Blaise, who had gone on to add, "Maybe she's stalking you. Don't be too disheartened – at least she's a pretty one. You might have ended up with a troll."

"I don't want her to follow me around," Draco complained.

"I wouldn't mind her following me," Blaise said, flashing him a cheeky grin. "She must be terribly heartbroken after Potter ditching her like this. She's probably just looking for a bit of… comfort."

"You have no taste," Pansy interjected from where she was sat on the opposing couch, with her homework propped on her knee. "Luckily for him, Draco does. Don't you?"

"Of course I do," he replied stiffly.

"Of course you do," Blaise agreed. Draco did not miss the surreptitious glance that he sent in Pansy's direction.

Alecto Carrow's experiment in social change had been in progress for three days before Pansy burst into the common room after dinner. Her face and arms were covered in telltale blotches – marks that he knew only too well from personal experience. A small, suspiciously green creature was caught in her hair. It flapped, causing glutinous green drops to fly off at intervals.

She hesitated in the doorway, almost as if she was surprised to find anyone else in the room. As she met Draco's eyes, someone giggled. Pansy's lips narrowed, and then she suddenly turned and stormed away towards the girl's dormitories. Daphne rose from her seat by the fire and followed. She reappeared only a few moments later.

"She wants to talk to you," she said to Draco.

There was a collective intake of breath. Draco's skin crawled as every eye in the common room turned to look at him expectantly. He sighed and pushed himself into a standing position. It might have been over a year since he had finished his relationship with her, but sometimes it felt like the conversation had never happened.

To Blaise, he said, "If I'm not out in twenty minutes just… just think up something, okay?"

"I'll play hero to your damsel in distress," Blaise responded.

Pansy was seated at her dressing table as Draco entered, peering into the mirror in front of her. There was a determined look on her face as she wiped at it furiously with a pink tissue.

"You're only going to make it worse," he told her sagely. "Especially if you use that," he added, as she reached for a jar filled with brilliant pink cream.

Pansy snatched her hand back and glared at him through the reflection in the mirror. The look was inhibited somewhat by the blotches covering her skin, and the fact that there were twin black streaks splintering off from her eyes.

"Your pet Gryffindor finally snapped then? You finally pushed her too far."

Pansy sniffed. After a moment, she said, "She attacked me."

"But what did you do to make her?" he challenged.

"Nothing. She's completely irrational."

Draco crossed to the nearest bed and sat on the end of it.

"That's not in dispute," he said, thinking of his most recent encounter with the girl in question. Only that morning, he'd had the misfortune to stumble across her on the way to potions class. Indeed, he had stumbled across her in the most literal of ways, as Ginny had been crouched around a corner gathering up a pile of books. When he had casually kicked one of the books over to her, the language that had come out of her was entirely inappropriate in a young pureblooded girl. Alecto Carrow would have been far from pleased.

A knock on the door stopped him from continuing. The pair turned around, Pansy glaring at whoever had dared to intrude. When Blaise's head appeared in the subsequent gap between the door and the frame, Draco raised an eyebrow at him in surprise. He had imagined that his friend would take a little longer before interrupting.

Hastily turning back to look in the mirror, Pansy growled, "What do you want?"

"A host of things, but I'll have to settle for Draco, at present." To the blond himself, he said, "Professor Snape has summoned you."

"Go," Pansy commanded imperiously, when Draco shot an apologetic look in this direction. "It wouldn't do to keep our lord and master waiting."

"And here I was thinking that was the Dark Lord," Blaise quipped, as he stepped aside to let Draco by.

It was with an air of disbelief that Draco spied a small familiar figure making her way across the courtyard in the pouring rain. Dark red hair peeked out from under her hood, confirming her identity, if confirmation had been needed. There was only one girl at school with hair like that. Draco was ashamed to admit that he had made a comparative study of the possible candidates over the last few weeks.

He froze, and then quickly darted from view as she turned in his direction. Her eyes moved quickly over the spot where he had been standing, causing the hairs on the back of Draco's neck to stand up. For a second, as her eyes lingered, he was certain that he had been spotted.

Then she turned again, and continued on her way, heading towards the path that led out to the Owlery.

There was a moment when Draco considered not following her. The idea was so tempting that he began walking again, continuing on his way towards the Slytherin common room. As he did so, Snape's parting remarks as he had shown Draco to the door of the Headmaster's office, only a few minutes earlier, began to replay in his mind.

"I have noticed that you have recently been spending a not inconsiderable amount of time with Ginevra Weasley," Snape said, placing his hand on the door to stop Draco from opening it completely.

"Only by accident, sir, I assure you," Draco said, after an evening of being subtly interrogated on how he was adapting to the challenges of seventh year, and whether he had been contacted by the Dark Lord or any of their other Death Eater overlords. Paranoia, Draco had long since come to realise, was part and parcel of being one of the inner circle.

Snape nodded. "It would be a mistake to involve yourself with her."

"Sir, there's nothing…"

"On any level," Snape clarified. "Although I will admit that keeping an eye on Miss Weasley's extracurricular activities would not be entirely inadvisable."

"You believe that she's up to something?"

Snape smiled. "Must I remind you that she is a Weasley?"

At Draco's stunned look, Snape added, "If you happen to notice that she is acting strangely, it might be advisable to tell me."

As Ginny finally disappeared from view, heading into the night, Draco reluctantly realised that her current behaviour was quite possibly precisely what the headmaster had meant. He hesitated, and then turned abruptly to follow. The visit to Snape had all but ruined his evening anyway. Traipsing around in the rain could not make it much worse.

It was easy to track her movements down to the Owlery. Once she was away from the castle walls, she seemed less concerned that there might be someone to see her. It was a reasonable assumption considering the weather. No doubt she thought that there would be no one insane enough to follow her. She did not pause before climbing the stairs and disappearing inside. Draco lurked at the bottom of the stairs, knowing that there was every chance that Ginny might reappear at any second. After a minute, he decided to move around the Owlery and wait until she reappeared.

Patience, however, was not among Draco's assorted virtues. As the minutes dragged on and she failed to reappear, his feet began to itch. The rain began to seep through the hasty water repelling charm he had cast. His hair had long since become plastered to his skull. Thunder rolled in the distance.

Finally, when he could stand it no more, he hurried up the stairs. Perhaps he could catch her in the act of doing something suspicious.

The air leaking from the Owlery was thick with the scent of dust and bird shit. Draco was still several steps away from the door when he detected it, and was abruptly reminded of precisely why he rarely ventured out to the building. Even his owl spent as little time there as possible.

The scene inside was nothing like what he had expected it would be. Ginny was standing in the centre of the room, her hands on her hips, and her head tilted back towards the high perches. Despite the unusual angle, Draco could see there was a look of intense irritation on her face. As he watched, she raised her wand, and said, "If you don't come down right this minute…"

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Ginny spun, her wand raised. The surprise was clear on her face. As the tip came around to him, Draco was forced to resist the urge to hold his hands up defensively. Instead, he affected a casual stance and raised an eyebrow.

"What are you doing?" she snapped.

"I'm looking for my owl, but I believe I asked you first."

"The same," Ginny said, finally lowering her wand. "Or trying to catch it, actually."

Draco smirked. "Carry on then. Don't let me stop you."

He stepped further into Owlery and peered upwards, as if looking for his owl. As he moved around, he could feel Ginny's eyes following him. They felt accusatory. Draco could not help but feel a little smug as he realised as much.

Tilting his head back further, he said, "Really, carry on. I won't be long."

There was a pause, and then a crunch as Ginny began her attempts anew. A few moments she made a triumphant little sound. Draco peered at her out of the corner of his eye as she attached a note to the owl's leg.

In a low voice, she whispered, "You know where to go," to the bird, and then stepped back. The bird fluttered up, heading towards the roof and the portals to the outside world that were situated there. Ginny remained in the middle of the room, by the perch on which she had convinced her owl to land only moments earlier. Draco assumed that she was making certain that the bird had actually carried the message away to its intended destination. Not for first time that evening, he felt his curiosity stirred.

Finally, she moved to leave, accidentally catching Draco's eye in the process. "Your owl is about two feet to your right," she said, and then stepped out of the door.

Draco scowled after her. Fully intending to make a retort, he crossed to the door and stared at her back as she walked down the steps. She was already on the path by the time that something suitably biting came to him, and by then it seemed far too late. Instead he continued to scowl after her. He decidedly did not admire the movement of her backside as she walked.

A rapid, almost panicked fluttering sound drew his attention back to the room behind him. Turning around, he felt a kind of pure triumph as he watched Ginny's owl return to the perch from which it had flown, the note still attached to its leg. Apparently the bird had decided the weather was too inclement as well. This was his chance to discover what she had been up to. It could be of vital importance, after all. She may well have been attempting to communicate with Potter.

Grabbing a handful of owl treats from pot by the door, he edged closely to the bird. His voice formed a low soothing murmur as he tried not to frighten it. The nearer he drew, the more confident he became. Obviously Ginny was not good with birds, if she'd had problems convincing this one to stay still. Just as he was about to reach for it, however, his foot hit an uneven stone and he stumbled forwards.

The bird rocketed upwards, but not before Draco's fingers encountered the message attached to its leg. He kept a firm grip, even as the owl's great wings continued to flap wildly around his head. Finally, the note came loose – or so it seemed. The bird flew off, hurtling through one of the holes at the top of the building. When Draco looked down at what he was holding, however, he realised that it was only half the original note.

Cursing under his breath, he opened the note.

A frown dissolved onto his features.

Draco spent the next twenty-four hours wondering what to do with the note. He found himself oddly reluctant to go to Snape with it – not least because he could not decipher what it was supposed to mean. It was obviously a series of chess moves, though Draco thought that it was more likely that they were actually code for something else. His father had ensured that he had a good understanding of the game, and to him they closely resembled gibberish. Besides, there was no reason that he could think of that Ginny would be posting chess moves to someone.

"I know that look," Blaise said, sitting down opposite him at the table. "You're getting obsessed with something again."

Draco scowled, and quickly tucked the note between the pages of his potions text. Curiosity flashed through Blaise's eyes but he wisely did not comment. After spending the better part of the afternoon staring at Ginny's wild writing, looking for a hint of inspiration, he was beginning to feel a little irritable.

"Would you like to see what I've got?" Blaise asked instead. Without waiting for a reply, he placed a plain rectangular box on the table between them.

"It's a box," Draco observed dryly. "Exciting."

"Not just a box," Blaise responded, reaching for the lid. He paused for a moment before lifting it. There could be no mistake that he was anticipating what Draco's reaction would be. He was not to be disappointed, as inside the first box there was revealed a second. This box was far from plain – not least because there was a half naked woman waving at him impishly from the lid. What little clothing she was wearing was black and shimmered as she moved. On top of head was an elaborate crown. She winked once at Draco.

"Is that…"

"A chess set," Blaise finished. "Yes, it is. A rather unusual chess set, I think you'll agree. I confiscated it from a pair of painfully embarrassed third year Gryffindors."

"Gryffindors?" Draco repeated, looking up sharply.

"Only they would dare to buy something so gaudy," Blaise confirmed. "Apparently the losing side ends up getting ravished. There is some stripping involved."

"You are entirely too excited about this. Daphne is still resisting?"

"The girl has knickers of steel."

Draco slowly shook his head, smiling as he did so.

"Fancy a game?" Blaise asked.

Of all the students that had been assigned to Slytherins as part of Alecto Carrows’ comedy, Draco suspected that he had been given the most difficult. Even Ginny, in her all her magnificent stubbornness, and in her position as Queen of the Dissidents, could hardly compare. Neville Longbottom was a one-man natural disaster, and his focus seemed to be Draco. There was every chance that the seemingly endless series of troubles that seemed to follow the Gryffindor was accidental, but Draco was not entirely sure that was the case. Not entirely the case, anyway. There was scarcely a day when Draco did not finish their tutoring sessions with a headache.

His latest attempt at derailing Draco's day had proved to have much the same effect. By the time that he sent Longbottom back to his common room, his head was pounding, and it was for this reason that Draco ended up taking a detour during his prefect patrol that evening. He knew it would take a dose of Dreamless Sleep to let him sleep through the night, and he knew by now that Madam Pomfrey would have retired for the evening. The woman had been deliberately irritating recently whenever he had requested something to help him sleep.

Hogwarts was different at night nowadays. Draco had noticed the change only shortly after he had returned for the new school year. As he moved through the corridors, away from his designated route, Draco could feel a characteristic chill run down his spine. It almost felt like he was being watched.

Much as he had hoped, there was no sign of Madam Pomfrey inside the infirmary. Conscious that there might be a student asleep in the room, he stole through the entrance and padded silently across the room. Indeed, it was not until he was at the large medicine cabinet that stood near the door to the matron's office that he even realised that there was anyone else in the room. When he did realise, it was only as he detected the sound of a chair moving on the bare floor.

Draco spun, and squinted into the gloom. The only light was that which seeped in through the windows, and since the sky had been covered in thick clouds for most of the day there was not much of that. When he identified the source of the sound, it was all he could do not to groan. Sitting with her back to him was the second source of his near continuous headache.

He could just leave. There was no reason that he had to approach Ginny. There was certainly no reason for him to speak to her.

Of course, there were a lot of things that he should not have done over the years.

The bed she was seated beside contained a small uncomfortably familiar figure. Draco cringed as he recognised the fourth year Gryffindor who had found herself in trouble earlier that day. He had heard that she had been hexed, but he had not realised how badly she had been hurt. It must have been serious for her to still be in the infirmary.

On Ginny's knee, as she was slumped on the chair, there was a thick textbook. Draco was willing to bet that she had not been reading from it for some time, considering the way her head was tilted to one side.

"Was there something you wanted?" she asked abruptly.

Draco started in surprise. "How did you…" he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Ginny pointed at the window behind the bed. Only when Draco looked towards it did he realise that she had probably been able to see him all along. Ginny's reflection rolled its eyes.

She stood, and after placing the textbook down on the chair, pointed to the other end of the room. "Come on," she whispered, taking hold of his upper arm. She tugged, forcing him to walk along side her until they were at the other end of the room. Even then Ginny did not stop. She continued to pull him along until they were standing behind one of the green privacy screens.

"Keep your voice down," she warned as he opened his mouth. "She's asleep."

"I would have anyway. You didn't need to kidnap me," he replied. Ginny shot him a disbelieving look in reply, folding her arms across her middle. Draco's eyes glanced down briefly before he could stop them.

"It's a sad that you let yourself be kidnapped so easily. Some might say that you wanted to be."

"I didn't mean it literally."

Ginny smiled. "I know," she said. "Sometime I think that they missed something when they made you, Malfoy."

"What would that be?"

The smile on Ginny's face widened significantly.

"You're in an amazingly good mood for someone who was just caught out after curfew," Draco said.

"You didn't deny it - that you wanted to be kidnapped, that is. Sorry but I can't help but find that amusing. Does Draco Malfoy dream of someone coming along to rescue him from this terrible life of torturing the innocent, doing the dirty work of a half-creature, and generally being regarded as a giant arse?" As Draco scowled, his eyes flashing, she added, "Besides, you're not going to report me for anything because you're not supposed to be down here either. I know the prefect schedule."

"Now that doesn't that surprise me at all. I suppose it must come in useful when you're scheming and plotting and such."

"Yes, it does."

The smile was still there, seemingly permanently fixed. Draco wondered whether she knew that she was beginning to look foolish, or that she looked rather charming while doing so. The thought made his stomach churn a little.

"You realise that you just confessed," he said.

Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "What did you want?"

Dragging back his shoulders, Draco said, "Perhaps I just wanted to find out what you were doing down here."

"I was sitting with Mary. She was frightened to be down here alone."

"And Madam Pomfrey didn't object?"

"She's really good at turning a blind eye, but I will deny to the day I die that I said that."

Draco cocked his head as he looked at her. "You actually enjoy being sneaky, don't you?"

"Don't you?" she countered.

"Some of us don't conform to the stereotypes associated with our houses."

"Some of us do. And by that, I mean you. Was that all? Can I go now?"

"What is it you like about it?" he asked as she turned to leave.

"About what?"

"About being sneaky. There must be something about it that appeals to you – something specific that is. Is it the planning? The strategy? Your brother – the weasel – he always enjoyed playing chess. That's a game of strategy. Did you play against him before he decided to go off and get himself killed?"

For a moment, Draco thought that he had pushed too far. It had been a calculated risk, bringing up her brother. He knew from observing her that Ginny was not fond of people talking about him, or the mudblood, or Potter. She had given him an opening of sorts, however, and he honestly could not remember the last time that they had spoken so long without one or the other resorting to threats of hexing.

"I don't play chess," she said after a moment. "Not unless I'm really, really bored, anyway. I like games that are a bit more active. Like Quidditch. That's strategic but there's more of a thrill with it. Can I go now or would you like to hear about my stuffed toy collection as well?"

"You have a stuffed toy collection?" he asked, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"I'm a sixteen year old girl," Ginny said, folding her arms again, "and the baby of a big family. Of course I have a big toy collection."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "I never imagined that you would be that sort of girl. You should bring it up with Pansy – you could bond. Her bed has so many cuddly toys on it that I nearly suffocated once."

Distaste flickered over Ginny's face. At least that’s what Draco thought it was. When she spoke next, he was not so sure. There was something probing about her words, and yet at the same time they were almost hesitant.

"Spend a lot of time in Pansy's bed, do you?"

"I was seven at the time."

"Oh. Good." She stared at him for a long moment, and then blinked as if she had realised precisely what she had said. Even in the gloom Draco could see her cheeks become pinker. "I should check on Mary."

"You should go back to your common room."

It was Ginny's turn to raise her eyebrows in surprise.

"I'm not saying so for your good. I just… don't see any reason that you should end up in the bed next to Mary over there."

She frowned. "What are you rambling about?"

"Snape is keeping an eye on you."

"Of course he is."

"I'm being serious." he told her firmly.

"Okay."

"You don't sound terribly upset."

The smile seeped back onto her face. Even in the low light, there was no denying that there was a definite element of satisfaction to it. "I'm not," she said. "Because, if Snape's keeping an eye on me, it can only mean one thing: I'm doing something right."

Four days later Draco found himself in the infirmary once again. This time, however, it was for a different reason entirely.

He entered half expecting to find a sentry stood at the end of her bed…one of the Gryffindors who had taken to following her around and hanging on her word, perhaps. Like the girl in the bed earlier in the week, they were rapidly becoming little more than canon fodder. Even members of the other houses had taken to doing the same. Most of the other Slytherins did not understand why. It had been expected of the Hufflepuffs, but not the majority of the Ravenclaws as well. Draco understood why, though. Ginny was charismatic. More than that, it was clear that she had become something of a talisman for the student resistance. To them, it did not matter that Potter had so publicly dismissed the girl.

Unlike the previous evening, though, this time the girl in the bed was alone. As he entered, her back was to him. But as he strode closer, she rolled over to look at him. Draco's breath caught at the sight of her hair, and the way that it sat against her skin and the white of her top. The low light turned it a ruby colour. The wide eyed look on her face as she realised who was there was eminently satisfying. His fingers tightened around the package he was carrying.

"Pomfrey gone?" he asked.

Ginny nodded, her eyes never once leaving him as he came to a halt beside her bed. Draco made a show of looking her over ensuring that he maintained a careful look of superiority as he did so. There was a large dark bruise spreading down from her hairline on the right side of her face. He wondered why it had not already been healed.

"I told you that you needed to be more careful," he said.

The shock disappeared from Ginny's face. "You're here to gloat," she said dryly.

"Partly," he admitted, dragging a chair over to stand beside her bed. "Theo said that he caught you coming out of the trophy room."

Ginny nodded, pulling herself into a more upright position.

"He said that you vandalised some trophy in there."

She nodded again, twisting around to grab a pillow from behind her back. Draco tried not to wince as she pummelled it into shape. He only hoped that it was Theo's face she was imagining and not his.

"What has T. M. Riddle ever done to you?" he asked.

Her fist paused mid-flight as she stared at him in disbelief. "Careful, Malfoy, or I'll have to reassess my opinion that you're not an idiot."

When he did not immediately make a scathing reply, she pointed to the box on his knee. "What's that?"

He smirked, glad that she had been the one to change the topic. "Something that Blaise confiscated from two of your housemates," he said, setting the box down on the bed. Leaning forwards, he removed the lid, watching out of the corner of his eye for her reaction. She did not disappoint as the chess set was revealed.

"You're showing me this why?" she asked, peering closer anyway.

"I thought you might want to play me for it."

"I told you I don't play," she said as he started to remove the pieces.

"I don't believe you."

Ginny's eyes narrowed. Before she could open her mouth to retort, he added, "Come on, you can't tell me that it doesn't appeal to the competitive side in you."

"It certainly appeals to yours." She continued to watch him set up the board for a moment. "What do you get?" she asked.

Draco met her eyes and smirked. "The pleasure of knowing I've beaten you."

"That's all?" she asked, eyebrows arching once again.

Draco grinned at her. "That's more than enough."

Ginny hesitated. Draco could almost see the cogs turning in her mind, and he knew that there was a good chance that she may simply send him on his way. It was agonising to know that she was so indecisive when there was a chance that playing her might well help him understand what her mysterious note had meant. At the very least it might give him a clue.

Her fingers closed around one of the pieces. "I'll play white."

The first game went to Draco, and the second. By the time they came to play the third, Draco knew that Ginny had caught the bug, and was not about to let him go without beating him at least once. Draco's only disappointment was that he had yet to raise the subject of the note. Easter was rapidly approaching now, and he was beginning to suspect that he would not be able to find out the truth before they went home for the holidays.

After her seventh defeat, nearly three weeks after the first, she tore her eyes away from the scene of debauchery on the board, and said, "I can't make Saturday night, but I'm good for Sunday."

He wanted to ask why, but there was a gently petulant expression on her face which told Draco it might not be the best idea. He had come to understand her moods with disturbing clarity over the last two weeks.

"Alright," he said. "I'll get Blaise to swap patrol routes with me and we can meet up in the library."

"Won't he ask why?"

Draco shook his head. "He's the one who confiscated the set, Ginny. He asked what I was doing with it a while back."

"And you told him?"

"He thinks I should challenge you to a game of real strip chess."

"Zabini's a pervert," she said, reaching up to tug her hair loose. It fell forwards, partially hiding the dull blush in her cheeks. "What did you say?"

"I told him that you'd punch me if I tried."

She laughed. "You thought about it then?"

Draco coughed uncomfortably.

"You did!" she exclaimed.

"You're a girl."

"So is Millicent Bulstrode, but I bet you wouldn't want to play strip chess with her."

Draco shuddered. Millicent was a good friend, for a girl, but Ginny was right: the notion of seeing her in any sort of undress was not appealing. Ginny, however, was another matter entirely. His eyes drifted down of their own accord.

"You're as bad as Zabini," she told him, her voice breathy. She shifted, causing other parts of her to shift interestingly as well. Draco swallowed as she knotted her hands and stretched them above her head.

"It's late," he said, scarcely trusting himself to speak.

"Yup." She sighed. "That's my cue to move, I suppose."

"You don't have to," he told her impulsively.

"I think maybe I should," she replied, standing. As she gathered up her belongings, Draco started to pack away the chess set.

"Draco," she said as she reached the door. "You should have just asked me."

There was no way to describe the feeling that formed in the pit of Draco’s stomach when he learned that Ginny would not be returning to school after the Easter holidays. The train had already left King's Cross when Pansy tottered into their compartment, leaning with the sway of the train as it began to pick up speed. In one hand, she held her carry-on bag inside of which there was her school uniform and in the other an outlandishly sized paper cup of coffee from one of the station kiosks. There was a satisfied smirk painted across her lips. It did not take long for him to discover the reason why it was there.

"Why are you so happy?" Blaise asked. "You're worrying me."

"I'm happy," Pansy said, "because I just found out that a certain redheaded harpy did not get on the train. She didn't even make it to the station."

Draco's stomach tightened. He sat up a little straighter.

"What do you know, Pansy?" Blaise asked.

"I overheard some of her little Gryffindor friends talking. Apparently her family thinks it's too dangerous for her to come back now, so she's being kept at home." She paused, her smirk returning. "I thought her family was supposed to be brave. Hold that, will you? I need to go get changed," she said, holding out her cup towards Draco. He took it unsteadily, though she did not seem to notice.

When the door to the compartment closed again, Blaise turned to Draco immediately. "You look like your favourite crup just died."

"I do not."

"You know, if you're really that upset, then perhaps it is best that she's been kept home. We both know what was likely to happen if she returned to school this term."

Draco frowned. "I don't care," he said. Even to his ear, he did not sound very convincing.

Several months later, when the dust from final battle had finally begun to settle, and Draco had once again become relatively certain that he would be able to venture out into public without fear of being hexed, he found himself repeating that one phrase while stood in the middle of Diagon Alley. To his right, Blaise smiled knowingly as he peered across the street at the girl who was stood with her back to them. Ginny Weasley was closely inspecting the contents of a shop window while dressed in an outfit that Alecto Carrow would certainly not have considered suitable for a young witch.

In Draco's opinion, it could not have been more suitable, though that was not something that Blaise needed to know – particularly since they had just spent the last ten minutes debating reasons why she both would, and would not, want to speak to him.

"You do talk a load of crap sometimes," Blaise said, surprising him. "Draco, as cliché as it is, there is a fine line between love and hate. My mother told me that, and I think we both know she's something of an expert on the subject."

"Your point?"

Blaise stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the redhead. "My point is this: while I sincerely doubt that Ginny Weasley loves you, I think there's every chance that she probably lusts after you." After noting Draco's shocked expression, he added, "At Hogwarts, she used to spend almost as much time watching you as you would spend watching her."

"I didn't…"

"Even Pansy noticed – and that's before you started sneaking away to play chess with her every five minutes."

"I was simply trying to find out what she was up to," Draco replied stiffly.

"Just bloody go over there before I resort to using an imperio on you." There was an almost manic gleam in Blaise's eye that suggested he was serious.

The experience of walking across the street to where Ginny was standing was almost surreal. By the time he came to a halt beside her, he was uncomfortably aware that he had seemingly lost the ability to think coherently. Talking, he suspected, would be impossible. Luckily, it was Ginny who made the opening move.

"I was wondering how long it was going to take you to come over," she said without looking away from the window display. When Draco frowned, she turned her head towards his, and pointed at the window. "Despite what the Prophet would like us to believe, Slytherins cast reflections much like everyone else," she said. "Besides, Zabini wasn't being very quiet."

"He's irritating that way," Draco agreed, and was rewarded by seeing her lips twitch. "You don't mind that I came over then?"

She shook her head. "I was rather hoping you would do, actually."

"Why?"

As Ginny reached a hand into her pocket, Draco tensed. She chuckled at his reaction, withdrawing her hand.

"Calm down," she said, holding her hand up. Draco looked towards it and realised that she was holding something in her closed fist. As he watched, it unfurled to reveal the familiar figure of a white chess piece. "I was just wondering whether you fancied a rematch."