A/N: I was reading through the reviews some of you have left me just to check up on what I might have to improve in the later chapters in terms of story and direction and I realized something. Almost half of the reviews I've gotten are of people telling me to update…sorry, hahaha.

P.S. this goes without saying, Draco still dies regardless of my lack of mention. Enjoy!

Saturday number twenty four:

Ginny Weasley did the same things everyday for the past five years. She'd wake up, fix herself a pot of tea, write some letters, brew more tea, and, if she was having an exceptionally good day, she would take a stroll in the park to enjoy that crisp, morning air. It was a lonely life for the Weasley—lonely yet comfortable. She had found solace and reassurance that the next day would be exactly like the last and with her condition, it was all she could pray for.

But today, she had decided, would be different. Today she decided that she wouldn't be Ginny Weasley who was sad and lonely and terribly afraid. Today she decided to be Ginny Weasley: the girl who fought against Tom Riddle when she was eleven, produced a stallion of a patronus when she was fourteen, the girl who bested the fields of Quidditch with the Hollyhead Harpies. Yes, she decided, she was going to be that Ginny.

And so, before she could talk herself out of it, the youngest Weasley put on her coat—not the regular grey one she wore to the point of abuse, but a bright powder blue one hidden so far back in her closet that dust became its only companion. With a quick scourgify Ginny put on her coat. The light pleasant blue tones of the fabric made her hair dance in magnificent flames of red and for the first time in a long time, Ginny liked herself.

It was a beautiful day and the walk had been terribly short. The redhead found herself growing increasingly anxious as she spied her destination peeking through the rows of buildings along Diagon Alley.

"This is going to be bad, I just know it," Ginny muttered to herself as she put her hand against the warm wood of Rosa Lee Tea Bag's door.

Or it could be good, the voice inside her head reassured her as she pushed it open. However, it turns out that they were both wrong. Behind the door sat a man with shocking silver eyes that seemed to dance against the light as he watched her approach him. Ginny couldn't explain why she suddenly became afraid. After all, she was looking for him and she was expecting to see him at the end of her little adventure.

No, what Ginny was afraid of was not the man that she now sat in front of but of what the man in front of her seemed to know. He looked at her in a scrutinizing stare as if her soul would leap out of her and relieve her of her secrets. He looked at her as if he was expecting her. He looked at her as if he knew something that she didn't and for the first time in five years, Ginny was dealing with something completely out of her routine and this terrified her.

"Malfoy, did you hear what I said?"

The Slytherin stroked his bottom lip in thought as he gazed at the frail redhead. He could almost smirk at the fight she was putting up to look tough, "I hear what you're saying, Weasley. The problem is that I don't quite believe it?"

Ginny fired up at the accusation, "Why would I lie about dying!"

"Easy, Weaslette. We wouldn't want to cause a scene now, would we?" this time he could not hold back his smirk, "The dying part, I believe. It's the part of you wanting a cure that I don't quite buy"

Ginny gaped at the Malfoy, resenting what was just said, "Do you know how insane you sound? Why wouldn't I want the cure?"

"Oh you wanted it but that was a long time ago. You're way past that. You've already accepted your death," Draco said clasping his hands and settling it on the table as he leaned forward towards her, "So what do you really want, Weasley?"

Ginny's heart plummeted down her stomach at the Slytherin's words and she knew that he spoke the truth. She had known it all along. She watched herself, everyday fade away along with any hope she might have had for someone to save her. Sixteen different healers, sixteen similar answers: she wasn't going to make it.

"I'm…I'm starting to forget," Ginny started saying, "Little things. Important things. I'm scared of losing them. My memories, I mean. It's all I have left, I can't…"

"You know I can't work around your mind once the cancer starts to spread there,"

"But what if you can? What if you can keep my memories?" The Weasley pleaded

"How—"

"Legilimency," Ginny said determinedly

Draco looked at her long and hard. When he didn't reply the redhead started to speak again only to be silenced by the Slytherin.

"I don't need to know the reason why you want me to do this. That is your business and yours alone,"

"So will you do it?" the youngest Weasley was hopeful."

Draco sighed, leaned back on his chair and closed his eyes. He absentmindedly stroked his lower lip with his thumb as he wracked his mind for a decision. It was true. He was particularly skilled at Legilimency thanks to his insane father and somewhat less insane godfather. But still. To be asked to invade someone's mind like this and empty it out into a bottle was beyond anything he was prepared to do. He opened his eyes, his gaze meeting that of a hopeful Weasley's.

"There are two ways I can extract your memories. From your conscious or your subconscious. If what you say is true and you really are starting to lose memory then penetrating your conscious self may not be enough. What I'm getting at Weasley is that I may have to enter your subconscious,"

"Which means?"

"Which means that every sight, every sound, every emotion, memory, place or person you have ever seen or ever experienced will be available to me. It will be a completely invasive procedure, one that would require total surrender. No matter how painful or private the memory may be, you have to surrender it. You will have to let me in willingly and wholly. Fighting back from this deep into your mind might damage it even more."

Draco watched Ginny Weasley contemplate what he had just said. Her eyes were downcast and worried as she turned things over in her head.

"So it ultimately comes down to this," Draco spoke again and Ginny's head snapped up in attention, "Do you trust me?"

She didn't even have to take a second to reply, "Yes."

"Why?" Draco couldn't resist asking, taken aback by her swift answer.

"Because you're the only one who can do this and you know it,"

Draco landed with a muffled thump, his feet sounding dull against the pavement as he hit it. Everything felt wrong around him, like he was hearing things from underwater or as if his head was inside a glass jar. He fixed his robes before he straightened himself out and took in his surroundings, taking extra care of the satchel he had brought with him that housed a number of empty bottles. He didn't know how much memories he would need to take.

It appears that he has landed in a field with a crooked house that looked like it might topple over any minute spearing from the ground up at the center of it. But what was even odder was how the image before him seemed incomplete and half the area was distorted, or blurry or covered in fog. Even some of the flowers looked like some surreal painting he had seen in muggle museums, frozen in time.

Someone ran past him, violently bumping his shoulder. He saw a tiny redheaded girl dart ahead of him then skid to a halt to look back at him. After a few minutes the girl folds her arms in front of her and sneers at him.

"Oh, it's you," the seven-year-old said with much venom

"Excuse me?" Draco scoffed at the child standing so defiantly in front of him.

"Why would she send you?" she narrowed her eyes at the Slytherin, "A ferret, of all people, really,"

"You—how dare—ugh!" Draco sputtered at the child's insolence, "Didn't your mother ever teach you about manners?"

"Did your mother ever teach you not to use too much hair gel?"

Draco took a deep breath and cursed the heavens. He then bent over so that he could look into the seven-year-old's eyes and smiled, "Ok, you…delightful child. Why don't you run along and do whatever it is you little girls do and be on your way?"

"No," the girl said deadpanned

Draco's smile disappeared, "Now you listen here, you little brat—"

"I'm surprised you haven't figured out who I am yet," the little girl smirked up at him, "No wonder you only came second to Hermione Granger,"

Draco was seething as he stood up to his full height. He sneered down at the little girl, "Let me guess, Ginny Weasley?"

"Not exactly," the girl started walking around him, encircle him as if she was examining her prey, "I am Ginny without and within"

"You're a manifestation of her memories," Draco wasn't asking a question

"Her memories, her thoughts—I am every fiber of her being," the little girl stopped in front of him once again, "My actions, my decisions are programmed after Ginny. I solely act what she herself wills me to, whether she knows it or not,"

Draco's eyes widened. He couldn't believe it. He was standing here talking to Ginny Weasley's subconscious. Never in his life would he have known that Legilimency at this level and depth could create such concrete manifestation. He had always thought a subconscious was a state or realm in the mind of a subject. Never would he have imagined that it would be coexisting in with her mind as a separate entity. And yet here he was talking to a being created by her mind. She wasn't real, yet she's here talking to him as if she had a life of her own. He wondered how this worked, "Would he just stuff her in his bottles? Knock her unconscious and—"

"What I don't understand is why she sent you," the Memory spoke again, "I feel it running through me. I feel hate and resentment towards you and I can't help but act that way. Draco Malfoy, her enemy, her tormentor. Why would she send you?"

Draco smirked, "Trust me. I'm just as confused as you are,"

"Oddly enough, I do trust you," the Memory laughed, "I hate you but I trust you. Ginny is finally losing it isn't she. I can feel the ripples in her emotions whip back and forth so violently I'm having a hard time sorting it out in here,"

The two remained in silence as they let those words sink in. Draco was the first to speak up, "You keep saying she sent me. As if you already know of my purpose here,"

"That I do," the Memory smiled for the first time since Draco got there. She turned around and headed towards the house without another word. The Slytherin took this as a sign that she wanted him to follow her.

A woman greeted them as they came in although Draco wasn't entirely sure. The more he stared at her, the more her face distorted beyond recognition. Her lips were moving but her voice came out broken, segmented and inaudible

"Molly Weasley," the Memory said by way of explanation. She lifted her hand and a ripple of magic pierced through the heavy air. Molly's figure came into focus. Her red hair and kind eyes became clear in the fog of the memory.

"Ginny Weasley what have I told you about running off? Go clean up its almost supper," Mrs. Weasley scolded her daughter, completely ignoring Draco.

"Yes, mum," the seven-year-old answered as she pulled Draco gently away towards what he could only guess would be the kitchen.

"Fascinating," Draco hummed thoughtfully as he stared at the little girl in front of him. Not only did Ginny's memory manifest into a human form but it also seemed to have the ability to affect her memories.

The Memory started speaking to him again but Draco was too distracted to pay any attention. He couldn't help but observe this strange being. Did they manifest the same way in other people? He watched the seven-year-old walk around the kitchen until she came to a stop in front a scarf currently knitting itself, her back towards the Slytherin. Draco crept up behind her, picking up a fork lying by the table and pressed the sharp ends of the tines against the exposed skin on her arm.

"Ah!" the redhead exclaimed, turning around wide-eyed. A look of fury flashed on her face as she glared at the Slytherin who looked at her in awe, "Did you just poke me with a fork?"

"Yeah, I guess I did," Draco seemed amused.

"Why?" she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Just wanted to check if you were real," the Slytherin explained, "For a memory, you seem too human,"

The redhead cried in frustration and then, without any warning, she delivered a nasty kick to Draco's shin causing him to cry out in pain, "There! Real enough for you?"

Draco only glared at the girl as he leaned against the table and rubbed at his shin. The Memory rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her, "Can we move on now?"

"Sure," Draco drawled.

"Good," she sent him a challenging look, "Now do you have any questions before we start?"

"Just one," Draco said, a serious look washed over his face, "Can you repeat everything you just said from the minute we walked in to the kitchen until before I poked you with a fork. I wasn't listening,"

The redhead sighed with exasperation, "Merlin, why did she send you?"

"So you're saying you can manipulate her memories?" Draco said slowly

"In a way. I can only supply things that she already knows and have forgotten. They say you never really forget things. Everything is stored in your subconscious. You may think you've forgotten something but in times of extreme emotions or need an old memory can come rushing back to you,"

"So why can't you just fix it for her?"

"Don't you think I would if I could?" the Memory snapped at him before sighing, "It used to work. Back when she was whole. But look around you. Her mind is broken. I try to restore it to its normal state but—," Draco followed her eyes as she turned around to look at something.

Molly Weasley and the rest of the house had gone back to looking like shambles—distorted and broken by whatever is killing Ginny Weasley.

"It never sticks," the Memory finished, "As soon as I fix another memory, this one would have already gone back to its destroyed state,"

Draco eyed the bottles in his satchel, a smirk breaking out on his face.

"Why are you smirking?" the Memory said suspiciously

Draco pulled out one bottle from his bag and wagged it at the Memory, "Cause I just figured out what exactly I'm supposed to be doing here,"

"Tell me!" the Memory demanded

"Tell me, what?" Draco teased the child, suddenly enforcing the authority of his age.

The Memory burst into light and then rearranged itself so now she was standing in full height as a 24-year-old Ginny, "Tell me, now before I hex you"

"Well, aren't you a bundle of joy," Draco muttered.

The world melted into complete whiteness as Draco extracted the memory sending it rushing into another of his empty bottles. He now had five all filled to the brim with childhood memories of the Weasley. He frowned at his surroundings. The nothingness made him feel uneasy.

"It's not really gone you know," the Memory stood beside him now at age sixteen. She preferred to shift forms along with the memories around them to keep track of them, "You're just taking a copy. She'll still have her broken memories, but you'll have her whole ones," she smiled sadly at the Slytherin as a new memory rushed around them.

When it finally stood still, Draco recognized the room they were in, "This is the Room of Requirements,"

"Yes," the Memory said thoughtfully. Draco did not like the dreamy look in her eyes.

"What—" and then he saw it. Two figures leaned towards each other in the cover of the shadows, "Oh Merlin, no, no, no, no, no,"

"Her first kiss with Harry Potter," the Memory confirmed Draco's worst fears.

"Why are we here? They look completely fine, " Draco could feel the bile rise up his throat, "Nothing to fix here right?"

"But this isn't how it happened, " the Memory said

Draco raised an eyebrow at her, "So she just made up an entire new scene of how she got her first kiss from Scarhead? Why?

"His name is Harry," The Memory said pointedly, "And I don't know why she did that. I can't know something that she doesn't know herself. I accept her decisions and actions as they are. Still, personally, I quite like the original version,"

"So…what really did happen?," Draco asked, the two of them turning back at the couple in front of them.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Do I really have a choice?"

The Memory smiled at him, "It was at the Gryffindor common room," the room started to spin, "They had just won the Quidditch cup…"

"How many more of these are we going to take?" Draco groaned as another memory replaced the one he had just taken. The count was at nine bottles now.

"Were almost to the end," the Memory, now back at her current age at 24, donned a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"I don't like the way you're looking at me," Draco said, uncomfortable, "The last time you did that, I had to watch Ginny and Potter in a broom closet—"

"I said I was sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't take back the nightmares I'm going to have for the rest of my life,"

The Memory rolled her eyes before sighing and smiling sheepishly at him, "Well, I'm afraid I have to apologize again for this next part,"

"What—why?" Draco demanded, narrowing his eyes.

"Let's just say," The Memory put her hands behind her and clasped it, "That you'll be having nightmares long after you're dead," And with that the Memory turned around and whistled a tune as she skipped ahead across the stretch of the hallway that had appeared around them.

"Why!," Draco called after her, slightly panicked, "Why!"

But she ignored him and the Slytherin was forced to follow her through the memory. She stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway. Draco frowned and stared at it. It seemed oddly familiar, like he had been here before.

Draco crouched facing a corner and buried his face in his hands, "Why me, why me, why me?"

The Memory patted his back to comfort him.

"Don't touch me!" he hissed as he stood up to face the Memory, who was now smirking at him, "You knew what was behind that door and you still led me through it, with no warning whatsoever,"

"Aw, did I upset you?" the Memory mocked him and then shrugged, "What's the problem? I'm sure you've have your fair share of this,"

The two eyed the couple now cuddling under the covers, staring into each other's eyes. Once in a while they would sigh with contentment.

"But you...her and him," Draco said venomously

"You know, I should have realized sooner. Of course, she'd send you. Blaise always sang praises about your medical achievements," The Memory raised an eyebrow at him, "You know, your good friend?"

"Yes but…but," Draco grasped for words, "Blaise bloody Zabini, you sneaky little shit"

"So what if it's Blaise? He seems quite taken with her,"

"Yes, but…"

"And she seems to like him too,"

Draco was a loss for words.

"And they seem happy together"

"Fine,"

"And don't you think you're being a bit hypocritical? I mean, you and Hermione,"

Draco sputtered and turned red, "I—what…I don't know what you're talking about"

"Pfft. Yeah, right," the Memory laughed, "So every time she pops up in a memory, all that staring and drooling meant nothing?"

"I was not staring and drooling. Malfoys don't drool," Draco scoffed, trying to hide his embarrassment. Was he that obvious? He was already starting to miss her if truth be told. It feels like he's been in here forever.

"You know what I don't get? Ginny has no memory of either any of you being remotely interested in each other," the Memory said thoughtfully, "The way you look at her makes no sense. So either, this is unrequited love or…Ginny doesn't know about your relationship,"

Draco's face heated up at her last remark imagining Hermione the night before when they shared a bed. He was pretty sure he was brighter than a the red Gryffindor drapes right now.

"Judging by the look on your face I would say, the latter one," the Memory giggled as she drummed her fingers together, looking quite menacing, "How fun. A secret romance,"

"You…you…shut up!," the Slytherin sputtered, "Just hurry up and fix the memory so I can bottle it up and get out of here as quick as possible"

"I can't" the Memory said nonchalantly

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't fix what isn't broken,"

"You can't fix…," suddenly Draco felt angry. Really, really angry, "So why did you bring me here then!"

"Just because it isn't broken doesn't mean it doesn't need to be preserved," The Memory told him as a matter-of-factly before grinning, "Besides, ferrets have the best facial expressions, don't you agree?"

Draco sent her a withering glare and then proceeded to sulk, having been played by Ginny Weasley's subconscious.

"There, there Malfoy," the Memory said, "That is what she called you right? But I feel like you know so much about us now that I should call you, Draco."

"Yeah," Draco sighed as he raised his wand to collect the next memory when he stopped in midair, "Will there be anymore…er…surprises after this?"

"Maybe," the Memory giggled

Draco groaned and whisked the memory into an empty bottle while the Memory hummed with glee beside him.

Draco landed softly in an abandoned alley and made his way quickly up the muggle flat that he had come to consider as home, a place of comfort.

His last few minutes in Ginny Weasley's mind turned out to be a five-bottle montage of the Blaise x Ginny love story. At first the idea appalled him but towards the end, he was glad his friend stepped in her life. The memory was right. If he could have Hermione then Ginny could have Blaise. She needed him—not that he was concerning himself with what she did and did not need. Still, it was hard to not feel concern for her after witnessing her entire life flash before his eyes. The thought made him feel a little bit sad. He wondered what memories would flash before her eyes when her time came.

He knocked on the door and when there was no reply he quietly unlocked it and stepped in. He was instantly bathed in darkness save for the kitchen lights sending harsh lines across the room.

"Granger?" He called out in a soft voice. There was no reply and no sign of the witch in the room. He glanced over to her bedroom door and noticed a small sliver of light escaping from under it. He headed towards it.

His mind flashed back to the moment he stepped out of Ginny's mind. She sat up and asked him to take one more memory from her—a memory she had just made. Draco quickly complied seeing no reason of refusing and filled another two bottles to the brim.

"You know, you shouldn't push him away," Draco said before Ginny had left him, "He really cares about you,"

"I just…it's so hard. I'm so scared of hurting people," Ginny said miserably.

"Let them hurt. Pain is unavoidable. That's the consequence of death. You should never take the blame for that. Let them grieve you," Draco smirked, "Be selfish, you're allowed this one time. Demand every ounce of love and attention from that Italian bastard. I'm sure he'd be happy to give it. Healer's orders."

Ginny laughed for the first time since she had started seeing him in his time loop. Suddenly she stopped and then bit her lip nervously, "Draco, do you mind doing this one last thing for me? It's just that I don't want to go alone when I give these…"

Draco's mind snapped back to the present. He still didn't know what made him say yes to that final request. He slowly pried the bedroom door open, sticking his head in to peer in, "Granger-?" he had begun to whisper when he was hit by such force, a metallic clang filling the air. He toppled forward, nursing his broken nose and busted lip.

"Oh my god, Draco!," Hermione cried frantically as she bent down in front of him to help him. Something clanged behind her and Draco's eyes darted towards it.

"A frying pan? Really, Granger?" Draco gritted behind his bloody nose

"I thought I was getting robbed!"

"And you defend yourself with a frying pan?," Draco hissed while fixing his bloody nose with a wave of his wand, "Where's your wand?"

"It's in the kitchen," Hermione said sheepishly, "I accidentally grabbed the pan instead of my wand"

The Slytherin looked at her incredulously.

Hermione huffed, "Well! I wouldn't be so out of it if you hadn't made me so sick with worry!"

"Oh, so now it's my fault," Draco drawled

"I mean we just had…last night and then you disappear on me today. I couldn't find you anywhere!" the Witch threw her hands up to emphasize the enormity of the situation, "For all I know you could have died, for real this time and your body was just lying on the street, rotting somewhere—or worse, that you had been avoiding me," Hermione whined miserably

"I'm pretty sure death is worse than having someone avoid you...," Draco said slowly

The Gryffindor shot him a glare and he raised his hands in surrender. They held their gaze for a minute or two before Hermione relaxed into a sigh of defeat. Draco chuckled and used her distracted moment to cup her face in between his hands.

"Hermione Granger you are going to worry yourself to death," his breath grazed her skin before he leaned in for a chaste kiss. Hermione could feel him grin against her lips, "Missed me, did you?"

Hermione lightly shoved him back, far enough so she could look him in the eye and glare at him. This only caused the Slytherin to chuckle even harder and move towards her bed. He took of his shoes and lied down on his usual side. He propped his head up with a pillow, putting his hands behind his head after patting the space beside him thrice as he sent a cheeky grin towards the witch.

Still glaring at him, Hermione climbed up beside him. She had barely settled herself in when Draco pulled her against him so that she was nestled against the crook of his neck, their legs in a tangled mess.

"So, where have you been?" Hermione said dryly, thoroughly enjoying how Draco was playing with her hair.

Draco smirked.

"I know you're smirking," the witch muttered

"Is there nothing you don't know?" Draco pretended to be shocked.

"I don't know where you've been all day,"

"I'd like to keep it that way,"

"Draco," Hermione propped herself up on her elbow to look at him in the eye.

"Granger," Draco said, mocking her stern voice but to no avail. He ended up chuckling and kissing the tip of her nose, "I'll tell you about it tomorrow, if it worked,"

He tucked a loose strand behind her ear and Hermione sighed and settled back down into Draco's embrace.

"So, what have you been up to all day," the Slytherin spoke up after a while, "You know, besides missing me."

"I'll have you know, I've had a terribly productive day," Hermione said defensively.

"Doing what?" Draco raised an eyebrow at her.

Missing you, Hermione thought miserably. Okay, so maybe her horrible mess of a relationship with Ron had left her clingier and more insecure about relationships than she would have liked.

"I'll tell you about it tomorrow," Hermione said nonchalantly.

Draco barked out in laughter, "Is this me getting punished?"

"Yes"

"Very well," Draco said before flipping Hermione on her back and causing the witch to squeal in surprise. Before she could protest he silenced her with a kiss. In truth he missed her just as much and quite possibly even more than she did. When they broke apart for air, Draco rested his forehead against hers.

"Fine, I missed you okay?" Hermione huffed like a child having to admit to something naughty that she'd done.

"I know," Draco grinned before putting another chaste kiss against her lips, "I missed you too,"

Hermione beamed at his words and closed the gaps between their lips once again. She loved how Draco made her feel. When her and Ron had been intimate it always felt like an obligation. Like he had only been giving her attention because everyone expected him to. But with Draco, she felt wanted. She felt like the most important person in the world.

Her eyes fluttered open when Draco abruptly stopped the kiss. He pulled out his wand from his pocket and turned around towards her bedroom door that was still slightly open.

"Which reminds me," Draco said, "Accio Hermione's wand,"

Seconds later her wand had landed on Draco's awaiting hand. He turned around and handed her, her wand, "Keep this on you, will you?"

Hermione giggled and took her wand into her hands, "Concerned for me are you, Draco?"

"Only when I know certain witches I care about go around protecting themselves with frying pans," Draco grinned at her as he started to lean towards her once more.

Hermione giggled again.

"What's so funny?" Draco said absent-mindedly as his eyes fluttered close. He started leaving light, feathery kisses against every surface on her face his lips could find.

"Nothing. This just reminded me of something a friend of mine used to say," Hermione sighed at how her skin hummed against Draco's kisses, "He'd say Constant Vigilance," the witch imitated a gruff voice.

By this time, Draco had reached her lips once more and was just hovering a breath away, "And which friend would this be?" he teased.

Hermione giggled against his lips, "Mad-eye Moody"

Draco froze and his eyes flew open. It was only a few seconds before he groaned and rolled away from her and back onto his side of the bed. He covered his face with his eyes as he tried to block out images of his past Defence Against the Dark Arts professor with the magical eye. Hermione laughed.

"You're evil. You said that on purpose," he pouted at her upset that one name had ruined the mood for him.

"If it helps, I thought that you were the most adorable ferret I've ever seen," Hermione teased him as she tried to pry his hands away from his face.

"No, it most certainly does not help!" Draco said indignantly

"Oh don't be such a drama queen," Hermione chuckled as she ruffled his hair.

"Oh I think you underestimate how long I can go on sulking," Draco said in the best matter-of-fact voice he had.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head as she snuggled up against Draco. The two resumed the original position they had before Draco decided to be…playful.

"Goodnight, Granger," Draco sighed in defeat clearly sensing the the night wouldn't go further than this, Mad-eye's face still swimming in his head. He dimmed the lights with his wand and it clattered against the bedside table as he set it down.

"Goodnight, ferret" the witch greeted him back with glee as she hugged him even tighter.

Draco groaned miserably.

Hermione giggled.