Draco stays awake for a long time after she has fallen asleep, and simply gazes at her. He wants to memorize everything about her- from her sweet scent down to the very last freckle on her nose.

He knows that she is tired, and her sleep will most likely be a deep one, so he does not hesitate to push his limits tonight. He leans forward and steals a soft kiss, barely touching his lips to hers. He is getting bolder as the time with her continues; he realizes that if she wakes up during one of his interludes that the possibility of losing her is very real.

He disregards his own silent warning to be careful, and catches her lips up in another kiss. He is slower to pull away this time; he finds that the stolen kisses fortify him in a way that he can't explain. He wonders how it would feel if she gave him a kiss while awake.

He touches her cheek lightly with his fingertips, marveling at how soft her skin is. With his thumb, he traces her cheekbone. He is ready to sleep now; two stolen kisses are hardly enough to satisfy him, but he isn’t willing to push his limits too far. 

He gathers her closer and buries his face in the curtain of her hair, seeking his comfort for the night. As soon as his arms are tightly around her, she shifts and opens her eyes a tiny bit. “Draco, are you still awake?” she whispers.

“Yes, but only just,” is his whispered reply. She snuggles closer to him and, to his surprise, presses a tiny kiss to his collarbone.

“You should try to get some sleep,” she mumbles, drifting off again. Sleep may have been within his grasp seconds ago, but it is a long way off now. She kissed him! He knows that she was barely awake and that she probably didn’t mean it to be anything other than a comforting gesture, but he is trembling from the feather-light touch.

He holds her for a moment longer, and then the urge is too strong. He gently disentangles himself from her and creeps silently to his desk, where his journal is still lying open to the page he’s written on. He berates himself silently; he knows that she hasn’t seen what he’s written, but she could have. He needs to exercise more caution.

He picks up his quill and dips it in the small pot of ink that always sits on his desk. He turns the page, feeling the need to start writing on a fresh page, since the thoughts are fresh in his mind.

She kissed me tonight. I don’t think she meant to do it, but she did. She was asleep and woke up to ask me if I was still awake. I was holding her, and I was trying to get to sleep, and she kissed me. I am too keyed up to sleep now – I can still feel the place where her lips were, and it feels hot.

It doesn’t make sense to me how or why this is all happening the way it is. I sleep when she’s around, and I always feel rested when I wake. She makes me miss some of the things that I used to do – flying being the main thing. She makes me want to play Quidditch again.

She flew on my broom with me tonight, which is something that I’ve never done before. I’ve never allowed anyone to ride with me, but I can see now that I’ve been missing a lot by not doing it. I could feel her excitement, which made mine multiply – does that sound stupid?

She told me about her family, too. I think that perhaps in another lifetime, one where I hadn’t been raised to look down on them, I might have been friends with one or more of her brothers. As things stand, I am simply amazed that she is my friend.

I don’t understand the forces that are at work here. It feels as though sometimes the pull to touch her is too strong for me to resist, and in the next minute, I’m content just to be in the same room with her.

I keep thinking about what my parents would say, were they alive for me to talk to. I know that my Father wouldn’t approve of her simply because of their lack of wealth, but I think that Mother would have liked her. She has an indomitable spirit, just like Mother did.

That’s not to say that I’m thinking serious thoughts, like marriage and children and ever afters – all I know at this point is that I like being around her. She makes me happy. I don’t want her to leave…

Gods, that does sound like I’m talking long-term, doesn’t it? Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me something. I have just over a week left to spend with her, and I don’t intend to waste a moment of it. Speaking of which, I’m going back to bed now.

He replaces the quill in his desk drawer, and then closes his journal and slips it inside the same drawer as the quill. He rises from his desk and turns to find her smiling at him. “I’m glad you’re using it.”

“What are you doing awake?” he asks, climbing back into bed. He lays on his back and she snuggles up to his side, resting her head on his shoulder. Instantly his arm is around her, lightly stroking her arm.

“I guess I’m just so used to sleeping beside you that when you’re not here, I can’t sleep.” His heart swells, and emotion floods his body. Who is he trying to fool by believing that he’s going to be able to let her go when the time comes?

“I know the feeling,” he says, giving her a light squeeze.

“Aren’t you tired?” She yawns as she asks this, and it makes him chuckle.

“Apparently not as tired as you are,” he teases. He goes still when he feels her hand move up from his chest to touch his face. She touches his cheek once, and then her hand drops back to where it was moments before.

“You should sleep,” she chides. “Although I know how those urges to write go sometimes, so I guess I can’t say anything about it.”

“You sleep,” he whispers, his mouth near the top of her head. “And once you’re asleep again, I’ll be able to sleep, too.”

A gentle sigh escapes her as she nods. He resolves to talk to her tomorrow about the way he feels; he can’t stand another day of being near to her without being close to her.

When he opens his eyes, the first thing that he is aware of is the fact that she’s still next to him. The second thing that he notices is that her hand is smoothing the hair away from his forehead. He turns slightly and looks at her, fully expecting her to withdraw her hand. When she doesn’t pull away, he gives her a soft smile. She responds in kind.

“Morning,” she says.

“Morning.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she apologizes. She starts to pull her hand away, but his hand shoots up and he grips her wrist lightly.

“Please don’t stop,” he whispers. Her lips part breathlessly as she keeps her eyes focused on him. Before he can lose his courage, he closes the distance between them and presses his lips gently to hers.

He expects her to pull away as soon as his lips come into contact with hers, but instead she relaxes into the kiss. She exhales softly, and her breath tickles him. After several long moments, he reluctantly pulls away from her, but only far enough away to be able to look at her face.

Her eyes are still closed and her lips are slightly parted, and he notices with no small amount of satisfaction that her chest is heaving as she breathes. When her eyes flutter open, she locks her gaze on him.

“Oh,” she breathes. It is only then that he realizes that he is still holding her wrist. Instead of letting it go, though, he brings her arm to his chest.

“You stopped,” he accuses, his eyes sparkling. She laughs softly.

“It’s your fault. You never let me have my hand back,” she points out. He grins at her. He doesn’t know how to express the elation he feels; he’s kissed her, and she doesn’t seem upset. She is smiling that breathtaking smile at him again, and it makes everything else but her seem hazy.

“True,” he admits, still holding her wrist. He slides his hand up so he is holding her hand, and he rubs his thumb across the flesh between her thumb and forefinger.

“I am going to be needing that back eventually.”

“Not any time soon,” he disagrees.

“I will need it back when we get out of bed,” she protests.

“Who says we’re getting out of bed?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. She laughs again.

“And what would we do in bed all day?”

“I can think of a few things,” he says, his voice throaty. She shivers and squeezes his hand gently.

“I can too, but I’d wager that my ideas aren’t nearly as perverted as yours are.” At this, he chuckles.

“You’re probably right.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” she asks. He lets go of her hand and reaches up to brush some stray hairs away from her face, and her smile fades.

“A little.”

“Breakfast in bed?” she suggests. His hand is still brushing the hair away from her face, and the prolonged intimate contact with him is making her tremble.

“Absolutely.” His thumb brushes her cheekbone, and she closes her eyes again. He takes advantage of the opportunity to surprise her and touches his lips to hers one more time. This time he is more sure of himself, and he knows that she will not push him away. He touches his tongue to her lips, teasing them apart. When she opens her mouth to him, adrenaline surges through his veins.

He takes his time exploring her mouth, reveling in the feel of her hands on his shoulders as he kisses her. One of his arms remains beneath her, and his other hand is gently cupping her cheek. Over and over he kisses her, touching his tongue to hers. She is starting to get to him; the longer they kiss, the more intense the contact becomes, until their kisses are no longer slow and languid, but fevered and frenzied.

The kisses are not enough anymore, especially not with her lying beside him in his own bed. He knows that if they don’t stop soon, he will not be able to exercise much control over his urges. He ends the kiss and holds her a small distance away from him, trying to regain his breath.

When his eyes fall on her face again, the blood rushes away from his head. Her eyes are glazed over and her lips are pink and swollen from his kisses. He can feel his resolve crumbling.

“We’d better stop,” he whispers. She nods.

“Right,” she breathes, nodding.

“It’s not because I don’t want to-“ he begins.

“I know,” she interrupts.

“And you’re not angry with me?”

“For what? Kissing me, or stopping?”

“Both.”

“I’m not angry,” she says, pushing herself into a sitting position. “Do you wish now that you hadn’t done it?”

He sits up and reaches for her, pulling her back into him. When her back is pressed against his chest and she is sitting between his legs, he wraps his arms around her. She leans her head back and rests it against his shoulder.

Her neck is exposed to him, and he cannot resist placing a light kiss there. She shivers. “I don’t regret doing it,” he says, his breath warm against her skin. And he doesn’t – he just regrets not doing it sooner. “Are you still hungry?”

“Yes,” she says, resting her hand on the arm that he has around her waist. “Do you want to go down to the kitchens and get something to eat?”

“No,” he murmurs, nuzzling her neck. The gesture elicits a giggle from her. “I want to stay here and have breakfast in bed with you.”

“Oh, I’d already forgotten that we mentioned that,” she murmurs, momentarily distracted by the feel of his lips brushing against her neck again. “So which one of us is going to get out of bed and ring for the house elves?”

“Damn, I’d forgotten about that,” he grumbles. “Well, it’s easily taken care of.” He lets go of her and gets out of bed. A small yelp of surprise escapes her when he reaches forward and grabs her hands, effectively pulling her out of bed, too.

“That’s not fair!” she protests, laughing. He drags her all the way to the fireplace, where he tugs once on the gilt rope. “I thought you were going to do it!”

“I did do it,” he says, raising his eyebrows at her.

“I meant alone,” she points out, laughing. “I didn’t think that you were going to drag me out of bed along with you!”

Before he can aim a witty reply at her, the house elf shows up. “Breakfast, if you please,” Draco tells him. Ginny watches as the house elf disappears.

“What happened to you last night? You’re in a wonderful mood this morning!”

“I don’t know,” he admits, steering her back toward the bed. “I suppose I just realized some things.”

“Like what?”

He sits down on the bed and pats the empty space in front of him, which she quickly sits down in. Her back is pressed against his chest again, and he snakes his arms around her waist. “Like the fact that we’ve got an entire week left together, and I don’t want to look back on it later and beat myself up for not at least trying to kiss you once.”

“I have to admit, this is an unexpected change,” she says, leaning back against him. “It makes yesterday seem worlds away, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he agrees. “But I like the change.”

“Me, too.” She feels an uncontrollable honesty welling up inside of her. “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to kiss you,” she admits.

“You have?”

“Yes.”

“But you’ve always hated me.”

“I disliked you immensely; I never hated you. And just because you don’t like someone doesn’t mean that you can’t be curious about things.”

The house elf returns with a single tray full of food, and places it on Ginny’s lap, at Draco’s direction. She lifts the lid, and a laugh escapes her. She half-turns to look at Draco.

“I was standing there the whole time – how did you tell him what to bring without me hearing it?” He doesn’t answer her; instead he just presses his lips to hers for a moment. When he pulls away, she is smiling at him. “I think I could get used to this.”

He smirks at her before reaching around to pick up a strawberry. He lifts it to her lips, and feeling foolish, she takes a bite of it. Juice trickles down her chin, and she reaches up to wipe it away.

“Messy eater, aren’t you?”

“Not when I’m feeding myself,” she says pointedly. He chuckles and scoots backward, allowing her enough room to move. When she settles down again, she is facing him, with the tray of food between them.

He isn’t sure that he likes her being even that far away, but he takes consolation in the fact that he can see her now. “So what are we going to do today?” he asks, taking a bite of the strawberry she’s already bitten off of.

“What do you want to do?” she asks, reaching for a piece of toast. “We could fly again, or take a walk on the grounds, or play chess, or go into Hogsmeade, or-“

“Hogsmeade?” he asks, interested. “I haven’t been there in months.”

“Do you want to go? Oh,” she amends quickly. “Nevermind.”

“Why?”

“You don’t like going out around people, remember?”

“But all of the students are at home for the holidays,” he reminds her.

“Except for the ones who live around here, and could see you out and about – and with me, no less.” He frowns at this.

“I’ve already told you, I wouldn’t care if we were seen together. And besides, remember what you told me? No one would believe it was even me- they’d think they’d seen a ghost.”

“Does that mean you want to go, then?”

“It could be fun,” he says, shrugging. “Why not?”

“They have the prototype for the new Firebolt model that’s coming out in two months at Quality Quidditch Supplies,” she says, licking butter off of her finger. “It doesn’t look like much, but Tantalus says that it’s much faster than the one that’s out now.”

“Tantalus?” he asks, mildly surprised. “You’re on a first-name basis with the owner?”

“I used to go in there a lot,” she says, nodding. “Sometimes he lowers prices for me, too, since I’m such a loyal customer.”

“We should make Honeydukes our first stop,” he says, rising from the bed. “I haven’t had decent chocolate in ages.”

“I wish you’d said something about it sooner,” she says, handing the breakfast tray to the house elf who’s appeared out of nowhere to collect it. “I could have bought you some when I was there this past weekend.”

“You can’t be expected to know everything about me right away,” he says reasonably, choosing some clean clothes from his dresser. “And besides, you gave me enough as it is.”

She pulls a clean set of clothes from her duffel bag as he disappears into the bathroom. She withdraws her journal after she has finished dressing, and begins to write as though she is a woman possessed. She gets so caught up in her writing that she doesn’t even notice that Draco has finished his shower.

He watches as she writes, and he feels something strange pooling in the pit of his stomach. He loves the way that she sticks her tongue out when she concentrates; the way that she wrinkles up her nose just before she scribbles something out. He clears his throat and she looks up, startled.

“That was fast,” she says, taking in his dripping hair. She puts her quill inside the journal to mark her page, and closes it.

“Actually it wasn’t,” he disagrees, sitting on the edge of the bed to put his socks on. “I was in there for quite a while.”

“I guess I tend to lose track of time when I’m writing,” she says apologetically. She slips into her trainers and laces them up, watching as he puts his shoes on as well. “Ready?”

“I’m ready if you are,” he says. She picks up the cloak he’s given her and wraps it around her shoulders. He puts his own cloak on, and follows her down the stairs. She leads him downstairs and out of the castle through the great oak doors, and she’s almost to the edge of the Hogwarts grounds by the time he catches up to her.

“Are you trying to run away from me?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.

“What? No! I just thought that you’d be in a hurry to get here, since you haven’t been here in a while.” He reaches forward and clasps her hand tightly with his. She glances down in surprise.

“Does this make you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all,” she says, shaking her head. “But I’m worried about someone from school seeing us.”

“Nothing to worry about,” he reassures her, though he’s not so sure. He knows that he’s taking a risk, coming out in public like this, but she’s well worth it. Besides, Dumbledore has been trying to encourage him to rejoin other people for ages, hasn’t he?

Once they reach the village, she slows her pace, and they stroll along languidly with their fingers meshed together. Draco finds that he’s missed being out and about, and he’s especially missed the feel of the wind whipping his hair around his face.

When they reach Honeydukes, he coaxes her inside. She doesn’t want to go in because she says that she spends far too much money in here, but he convinces her to, anyway. Once inside, he is assaulted by the smell of the rich chocolates that are being made fresh somewhere inside the shop. He purchases the smallest box of chocolates that they sell and places it deep in his pocket, and then they head back out onto the street.

They are both startled when they hear someone calling her name. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. She’s not sure that he’s ready to be seen yet, but he looks completely calm. “Do you want to ignore them and just keep going?”

He simply shakes his head.

She turns around and tries to let go of his hand, but he holds fast to her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. She looks around, trying to seek out the person who’s called her name. To her chagrin, it’s Hermione.

“It’s Hermione,” she breathes through clenched teeth. She watches as Hermione jogs toward them, stopping just a few feet in front of Ginny. Draco still has his back turned to her. “Hey, Hermione. What are you doing here? I thought you were going home.”

“I was,” Hermione nods. Ginny wonders how long she’s been outside, since her nose is red. “But I told your Mum I’d stop by the Burrow for a visit, and then Harry and Ron convinced me to come here with them.”

“Harry and Ron are here, too?” Ginny asks. The slightly panicked note in her voice is not lost on Draco, who squeezes her hand once for reassurance.

“Yes, I think they went to look at Quidditch equipment.” Hermione says this with an eye roll, and despite the situation, it makes Ginny want to laugh. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Ginny is struck dumb for a moment. Before she has a chance to collect herself, Draco has turned around and is looking a very surprised Hermione directly in the eye.

“I don’t believe that introductions are in order, seeing as how we’ve already met,” he says coolly. Ginny knows that he is not being mean, he is simply being disinterested – but one look at Hermione’s face tells her that Hermione does not see what she does.

“It can’t be,” Hermione whispers, her face paling. Draco arches an eyebrow at her, but says nothing more. Hermione turns to give Ginny a questioning look.

“It would take time to explain,” Ginny says, shaking her head. “And that’s if I even wanted to explain in the first place – which I don’t.”

“I thought-“

“He’s not,” Ginny says, poking Draco’s shoulder with the index finger of her free hand.

“Ouch,” he mutters, frowning at her. Hermione’s eyes widen as Ginny smiles brilliantly at him.

“As you can tell, he’s very much alive. It was nice to see you, Hermione. Give Harry and Ron my love, and I’ll see you when school starts up again.” Draco doesn’t wait for Hermione to answer Ginny; instead he turns and leads her away. When they are finally out of Hermione’s sight, he turns to her.

“I didn’t think you’d do it.”

“Do what?” she asks, confused.

“Stay by my side when you ran into a friend.”

“Please,” she laughs. “If we spend any amount of time together, they’re going to figure it out sooner or later.”

“I think you’re giving them entirely too much credit,” he says, grinning at her. “Shall we share a cup of chocolate?” he asks, pointing to a small vendor. She nods.

“That sounds good.” She insists on paying for the drink, so he lets her, promising that the next time, he’s buying. They find a bench outside the Three Broomsticks and sit down to drink the cocoa.

They take turns with the cup, drinking until it is empty. They are just about to stand up to leave when Ginny hears her name again. She groans and bites the inside of her cheek before she turns to Draco. “I’m really not feeling up to this,” she says quietly.

“Who is it now?”

“Ron. Hermione must have run into him and told him.” She stands up and turns just in time to see Ron striding towards her, with Harry not far behind. She remains calm as she tosses the empty paper cup into a nearby wastecan, and tries to ignore her brother.

“Ginny!” He calls again. She takes a deep breath and turns to face him with a very forced smile.

“Hey, Ron, Harry,” she says, nodding at Harry. Harry nods curtly, and Ginny wonders why they haven’t said anything about Draco yet. She turns, only to find that he isn’t there. She is strangely relieved and disappointed when she turns back to her brother.

“Looking for someone?” Ron asks, glancing around.

“It’s nice to see you, too,” she says scathingly. Ron has the decency to look embarrassed.

“It is nice to see you,” he concedes. “Mum really missed not having you with us on Christmas.”

“I just didn’t feel like it this year,” she says, dropping her hands to her sides.

“We’re worried about you, Gin,” Ron says, his voice full of genuine concern. “Alone at school.”

“I’m not alone,” she begins, shaking her head. “I haven’t been alone for a second since you’ve all been gone. Several other people have stayed, and I’ve managed to make a friend.”

“That’s great,” Ron says, smiling enthusiastically. “Who is it?”

“Holy hell,” Harry murmurs, his eyes wide in disbelief. Ginny starts to turn, but stops when she feels a hand at the small of her back. She relaxes visibly, which Harry notices and narrows his eyes at. Ron finally notices that a fourth person has joined them, but his smile fades when his eyes fall on the white-blonde hair and slate eyes.

“What’s the matter?” Ginny asks pleasantly. “You two look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Draco sniggers, and she can almost hear his smirk. Harry simply stares at Draco, while Ron turns his eyes back to hers.

“Is he- is that- do you-“ He can’t seem to find the words to say to her.

“Spit it out, Ron,” she commands. Beside her, Draco sniggers again. She knows that when they get back to Hogwarts, he will tease her about her bossiness.

“Is it really him?” he asks. Ginny turns to Draco and folds her arms over her chest.

“What do you think, Draco? Is it really you, or are you someone else today?” He pretends to ponder this for a moment.

“You know, I did feel rather odd when I woke up. Maybe I’m not me, after all.”

“Well, there you have it, big brother,” she says, patting Ron on the shoulder. “Now if you don’t mind, we have things to do before we head back to school, so…” She lets her voice trail off as she turns to walk away.

“Back to school, did you say?” Harry asks. Draco turns and raises his eyebrows at Harry.

“Yes, Potter. Back to school, where I’ve been since the war ended.” Harry’s mouth falls open in surprise.

“You’re lying,” Ron accuses, his ears turning red. “We would have seen you.”

“Not if I didn’t want to be seen,” Draco says, smirking at them. “I believe the lady has some shopping to do yet.” Ginny smiles beatifically at him and reaches for his hand. He gives it to her freely, relishing the looks of absolute shock that they’re wearing. For extra measure, she plants a kiss on Draco’s cheek.

The boys are beyond words as the couple walks away; Ginny is giggling and Draco is chuckling.

He’s made his official return, and it was easier than he’d ever dreamed it would be.