I've gotta thank Colores for being a fast, efficient, and all-around awesome beta!

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Ginny gulped another Firewhiskey. She closed her eyes and let the hot liquid pleasurably burn her throat. Ginny knew that being here would do her no good, but for one night, she just wanted to forget.

You-Know-Who was on his usual killing rampage. The Wizarding world was drowned in terror. But Ginny was not a coward – she fought alongside the Order and did everything in her power to help in any way. She knew that You-Know-Who would not live, though. Harry wouldn’t let him.

Harry. Five years had passed since that day – the day he had deserted her. Ginny was no fool: she knew it was all for her protection, all so she would be safe from You-Know-Who. Harry was gone now, on one of his “missions� with Ron and Hermione. They had visited the Burrow only once in the past two months, only to assure everyone that they were still alive. They never, however, told anyone what they were up to.

It was during that visit that Ginny had realized that Harry was lost to her now. She realized it then that she did not belong to him anymore, and he was certainly no longer hers. She had then seen the way Harry had looked at Hermione – not as a friend would look at another friend. He had looked at Hermione with soulful, loving green eyes. Ginny felt her eyes dampen. Not her. Never her.

Hermione, who was her best friend, and the closest she’d ever come to having a sister. Hermione, who knew better than anyone of Ginny’s feeling’s for Harry. Hermione, who returned Harry’s gaze tenfold and broke Ron’s heart in the process.

But Ginny had not cried then, and she would not cry now, not over them. She had already accepted their decisions and come to feel twinges of happiness for them. She had picked herself up off the ground – until Bill’s death sent her crashing right back down.

Bill – dead. Killed by a Death Eater. It was unreal. And it was this reality that Ginny wanted to fade away, if only for a little while. The Hog’s Head was certainly helping her along.

Ginny looked up nonchalantly as the tavern door creaked open. The head of white-blonde hair almost shocked her out of her drunken stupor. What on earth was Draco Malfoy doing in a tavern?

He found his seat on a bench beside her. Ginny did not expect he’d recognize her. Not with the hair she had recently cut ridiculously short, and that she had long ago dyed black. He hadn’t seen her in five years and it’s not as if they had ever been close – why should he recognize her?

He ordered a Firewhiskey and started downing it. He didn’t look like the arrogant, prejudiced boy Ginny knew from so long ago. Perhaps too intoxicated to truly know what she was doing, Ginny called, “Hello there.�

***

Draco slowly directed his eyes towards the person greeting him. Beside him sat a young woman, dressed in shabby, wrinkled robes was looking at him emotionlessly.

“So, what’s a Death Eater like you doing here?� she asked, her speech slightly slurred.

Draco crinkled his eyebrows. She seemed familiar somehow. “Whatever it is, it’s none of your business, I’m certain.�

She chuckled, and took another sip of her Firewhiskey. Then, she turned to him again. “You don’t recognize me at all, do you, Malfoy?�

The woman’s voice, combined with her defiant expression, startled Draco. He knew her, he had seen her before!

“Ginny Weasley?� Draco said in shock.

The strangely familiar woman chuckled. “Took you long enough.�

Draco looked at her in surprise. Her long, red hair was no longer there: she had apparently cut it herself at the nape of her neck, for it was uneven. For some reason she had dyed it black, although fiery roots were starting to peek out, visible to anyone who searched for them. Her skin was sallow and her clothes hung loosely on her figure.

“You look terrible,� said Draco, furrowing his eyebrows in distaste.

“So what could someone like you be doing here?� asked Ginny, ignoring his last comment. Whether she was pointedly not drawing attention to the fact that he had just insulted her or whether she had truly not heard, her disheveled appearance disturbed Draco. This could not be the bold girl he had known at school.

“Celebrating your last mass murder, perhaps?� said Ginny coldly.

Draco’s face darkened, and he felt the temperature of his tone drop several degrees. “My mother was killed just hours ago. Not that it would matter to you, Weasley.�

Ginny’s blank face seemed to register some surprise: her eyebrows lifted slightly, and he could barely see a spark of sympathy in her brown eyes. “I’m sorry,� she said uncomfortably.

Draco smirked at her discomfort, although he knew his sneer was devoid of the customary arrogance it typically carried. He did not think that his mother’s death was fully registered in his brain yet. He was looking upon his situation from a third-person point of view, so as not to fully feel the pain and fear that threatened to suffocate him.

“And what about you?� said Draco gruffly. “I never thought I’d see the great Ginevra Weasley in a place like this.�

The use of her full name seemed to stun Ginny. She simply stared at Draco for a moment, and then shook her head. “You don’t give a damn,� she muttered.

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re probably right. But I’d still like to hear it.�

Ginny did not speak. Her head was bowed low, her black bangs casting a shadow over her eyes. When she slowly turned to Draco, her face was drenched in tears. “My brother is dead and the love of my life doesn’t give a damn about me anymore. Well?�

Draco did not know how he was supposed to answer. Ginny was sufficiently drunk. He realized that, had she been sober, she would have hexed him on mere sight. She would most likely not remember this encounter, judging by the amount of Firewhiskey bottles in front of her.

“I’m sorry. But I do understand what it’s like to lose someone. I can feel pain as well, you know.�

Ginny scoffed. “You?� she said haughtily. When she saw Draco’s defeated smirk, she relented and seemed to drop her guard. She said wearily, “Yes, I suppose you do understand. You loved your mother very much, didn’t you?�

It was Draco’s turn to look away for fear of her seeing the reluctant tears that filled his grey eyes. “Yeah, I loved her. We were close, much closer than my father ever was to me.� He spat out the word father with disgust. Lucius Malfoy was off doing the Dark Lord’s bidding. Even after Voldemort had murdered Narcissa, Lucius continued to show loyalty. Whenever Draco thought that all he had left were Lucius and his aunt Bellatrix, he felt a strong urge to vomit. To think he had no one but a coward and a sadist left to him in the world…how sad and lonely his end would be.

Ginny yawned and started to stand. “I’m going home.� When she closed her eyes to Disapparate, she lost her balance and started to fall. Draco involuntarily reached out to stop her from hitting the ground.

“If you Disapparate in that state,� started Draco disapprovingly, “you’ll surely splinch yourself.

Ginny shook her black head vigorously. “Leave me alone, Malfoy.�

“I’m trying to help you,� said Draco irritably. “Just tell me where you’re going and I’ll get you there without you having to tear yourself in two.� He pointed to the small fireplace in the corner of the room. At the moment it was devoid of fire, but a small spell would fix that problem.

Draco did just that: cast a spell and lit a fire, while at the same time supporting a wobbly Ginny. “So where do you intend to go?� Draco asked.

“Just say ‘Ginny Weasley’s Flat’ and we’ll get there,� mumbled Ginny before letting her body go limp.

Oh damn, thought Draco irritably. Just what I needed.

Draco awkwardly pushed Ginny into the small fireplace, and then followed himself. It was a very tight and uncomfortable fit. Draco held on tightly to Ginny, who had lost consciousness, and said firmly and clearly, “Ginny Weasley’s Flat!�

The fireplace he stepped out of was much larger than the one in that old tavern, and the room it was in much cleaner. The walls were painted a warm brown, and the carpets were dark beige. The large, fluffy armchair and couch in the corner that faced the window was as dark as the walls, which all gave the room the uncanny appearance of coffee. It felt cozy, though.

Draco carried Ginny in his arms and placed her on the couch. Gazing at her while she slept, he suddenly felt a strange feeling enter his heart. Seeing her like that, so helpless and lost, caused his heart to weigh down with sadness. Draco smirked, a gentle smirk not meant to express contempt or anything likewise. Who knew he could ever feel sympathy for this Weasley girl? He smoothed Ginny’s hair, feeling regret for the loss of the beautiful red strands that used to fall in waves to her shoulders. She must have been out of her mind to mar it like this.

Sighing heavily, he backed away from Ginny. “Good-bye, Ginny Weasley. It’s a good thing you probably won’t remember this night.� With that thought comforting his pride, he Disapparated.

***

Ginny woke up feeling very sick. Her head felt like it was being pounded on with a hammer; it beat furiously every time she moved. The sun’s light felt like fire to her eyes, and she hurriedly moved to shut the curtains. She quickly sat down again, as she could barely stand without feeling like the floor beneath her was spinning. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, her hands pulling up the blanket to her neck. She had to get some more sleep.

The blanket, however, caught Ginny’s attention. The plain blue coverlet did not belong to her. All of a sudden, as if a dam had been broken, all of last night’s events came flooding back to her. She remembered her short conversation with Draco, and she cringed at how familiar she had been with him.

However, when Ginny remembered that he had offered to take her home, she strongly regretted not being able to thank him. It was, of course, Draco that had brought her here and covered her up. It was Draco who had not left her until making sure that she was comfortable and safe. It was Draco who had, in a way, protected her.