Who Followed Who?

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.

SUMMARY: The Wizarding world is still in quite a state – Voldemort is back, and people are torn as to whether or not they believe it. The Order of the Phoenix is still holding meetings to try and prepare for the Dark Lord's ultimate uprising, but one of their ranks has decided she's not so sure where her loyalties really lie.

SPOILERS: SS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP, QA, FB

SHIPS: Ginny Weasley/Draco Malfoy

"So when you try
Hard to avoid the truth
Look again
Who followed who?
Somehow you thought
Thought that you're hard to lose
But in the end
Who followed who?"
~ "Who Followed Who?" by Default

Ginny sat at a small outdoor table, sipping a steaming mug of coffee. Snow fell gently around her, but she didn't seem to mind. Her cloak was slightly open and she wore no gloves, despite the bitter cold.

She'd chosen to sit outside the café because she'd wanted some precious time alone- time to think; time to breathe. She was tired of following the Three Musketeers around all of the time. She was forever stuck in their shadow; resigned to be known only as either the girl who had a crush on Harry Potter (one of many), or simply as Ron Weasley's baby sister.

The cold truth was that she'd outgrown her infatuation with Harry during her final year at Hogwarts. Out of sight, she discovered, also meant blissfully out of mind. These days she only placed herself in the Trio's company during family dinners at the Burrow or Order meetings.

The Trio, her supposed "best friends," had not noticed her aloofness – and if the truth be told, she hadn't really expected them to, either. They were far too wrapped up in other things. Ron and Hermione had finally begun planning their wedding, and Harry had gotten somewhat serious with Padma Patil.

Of course, there was always the imminent threat of the Dark Lord and his forces rising, as well.

Ginny was left to her own devices, with no friends and no promising love interests looming on the horizon. She attended every Order meeting without fail, although she had already admitted to herself that she had become jaded and restless. She found that at times, she couldn't even remember why they were fighting.

She curled her fingers around the half-empty mug, letting the heat seep into her frozen fingers. She was immensely grateful for the silence of the almost deserted Hogsmeade street; she was weary of people approaching her only to ask questions about Harry. She knew it was dangerous to be such a well-known ally of Harry's and be out in the open like this alone – but she didn't care.

She almost felt like it was a silent dare to Voldemort to come and do his worst. At least the last time she'd come into contact with him, he'd pretended he was interested in her, and that was more than she got now. As things turned out, the answer to her unspoken challenge came in the form of Draco Malfoy.

**

Draco shoved his hands deeper into the fur-lined pockets of his designer cloak. It was unseasonably cold for November. He silently cursed his father for forcing him to come out and run his errands, but as Lucius was currently in hiding, there was no way for him to be able to do it himself. He sighed in annoyance as Honeydukes came into view. Since he was already here, he might as well stop in and reward himself with some of his favorite dark chocolate.

As he was nearing the door that led inside, his eyes fell on an occupied table at the café next door. He gave a soft snort. The person was obviously touched – afflicted. Who in their right mind would be sitting within reach of the icy snow and chilling wind? Curious, he took a step closer. When he saw the color of the upswept hair, he knew who it must be.

There was no mistaking the Weasley hair color.

He glanced around, sure that if she was here, Potter must not be far behind. He saw, however, no signs of any of the Wonder Twits, and after a while, he knew she must be alone.

He studied her closely. He hadn't been this close to her since his fifth year, and he could tell that she'd done quite a bit of growing up in the last four years. The orange-red of her hair had deepened into a coppery color, and her face had matured. There were wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, and the eyes themselves looked as though they belonged to an old lady – not to a girl of nineteen.

He'd been studying her intently for several minutes before she lifted haunted eyes to meet his. He was vaguely surprised when no emotion registered on her face at the sight of him, and he wondered if she even recognized him. The blank expression on her face indicated nothing. He shrugged to himself, then turned and headed inside the sweet shop. When he emerged, she was still sitting there, staring down into her mug.

Her cloak was open and her fingers were bare, but she wasn't shivering. In fact, Draco might have believed she wasn't feeling the temperature at all- if it hadn't been for the flush that painted her cheeks. His curiosity was getting the better of him- why was she in the cold, and alone? He sat down. She did not acknowledge him, and it made him angry. She was a Weasley; how dare she not acknowledge a Malfoy!

"What's the matter, Weaselette?" he sneered. "Did the Wonder Twits run off without you?" She brought sienna eyes to meet his, and her gaze was so intense that it caught him off guard momentarily.

"One can only hope," she said flatly. He stared at her in disbelief. Had she really just agreed with him that the Trio were twits, and that she didn't want their company?

"Ah," he drawled softly, looking for another button to push. "Did Potter finally dash your dreams of becoming the love of his pathetic little life?" To his great surprise, she laughed.

"Oh, Malfoy," she smiled. "If you're going to try and insult people, you're going to have to stay abreast of the things going on in their lives. It's not so easy, is it, to keep tabs on the people you hate, now that you're out of Hogwarts and away from them?" He gaped at her.

"What?"

"If you want to insult me, you'll be needing some new material to work with. Might I suggest poking fun at my chosen career, my lack of a love life, or my pathetic little four room flat? Or maybe you'd rather stick to the basics, the old tried and true topics, like the fact that I am a Weasley? Remember, we all have red hair and our family is probably the largest pureblood Wizarding family in existence right now. That stuff about Harry won't work anymore, though."

"And why is that?" he asked coolly, regaining his composure. He was growing more confused by the second, but he had become quite adept at masking his emotions outwardly. To be the son of Lucius, he'd had to.

"I haven't been interested in Harry for ages, Malfoy. Not since your seventh year at Hogwarts. You're going to have to find something better to use." Her words were finally seeping in, despite the dropping temperature causing his brain to feel frozen.

"Wait," he said, eyeing her thoughtfully. "Are you telling me that you hate Potter?" She rolled her eyes.

"No," she said, lifting her mug to her lips. "I don't hate him. But that doesn't mean that I'm his biggest fan anymore, either." He sat back in the cold chair, ignoring the shivers that the cold wind was trying to send down his spine. This could work to my advantage. I could bring her to the Dark Lord, and we would have Potter exactly where we wanted him. We've been following her long enough to know that she's part of whatever secret society Dumbledore has formed; she would be able to tell us everything. I would be revered for bringing her to him.

"Interesting," he murmured, both in response to his thoughts and her statement. She ignored him and continued sipping gingerly at her drink. "Explain to me why you're sitting out in the snow," he commanded suddenly. She blinked, but otherwise gave no reaction to him.

"Because I like it."

"You like it," he echoed flatly. She nodded.

"I like being alone. Away from Harry and the people who flock to him every moment of the day." He arched an eyebrow at her.

This is going to be easier than I thought.