Sorry about all the update delays going on. I just haven't had the bloody time, I tell you. I'm raising the rating on this to the highest, because I just don't know where it's going, or how far.

R & R PLEASE, I beg you!

The Heat Is On

For a few days it had been unbearably – and uncharacteristically – hot in the Hogwarts castle and grounds. Even in the dungeons of the Slytherin dormitories, which were normally pleasantly cool if not bloody freezing, the heat seeped into the stone work and dampened it with condensation, and made the air dank and musty. Draco had moved ceaselessly throughout the night, particularly when wrapped up in the deep green velvet hangings. When he woke on a muggy Sunday morning a few weeks before Christmas and rolled over, he saw tiny droplets of liquid clinging stubbornly to the curtains, and his body was filmed in a flushed sweat, his sheets clinging uncomfortably to him.

He got up stickily, and dressed as quickly and coolly as possibly. He couldn't for the life of him remember a decent cooling charm. Silently he padded over the window and lent on the sill, peering out across the alien grounds. The sun had clambered into the sky and hung limply above the lake, where students had gathered to bask in the torturous weather and cool off, carefully out of reach of the Giant Squid. Personally, not only did he find it uncomfortably hot, but he found the bizarre temperature quite frankly scary – this was not natural.

For the last couple of Sundays, Ginny and Draco had taken to walking through the grounds out of the way of the rest of the school. With that in mind, Draco set off for the grounds in eager anticipation of not only the increasingly rare sight of a friendly face, but the possibility of being able to express his apprehensions to someone who was unlikely to defiantly retort just so they could disagree loudly with him as the Slytherin's had taken to doing – apparently the fallen form of a Malfoy was incredibly inspiring.

The grass was spongy but bone dry, and was an odd yellowing brown that was simply not consistent with the time of year. He wasn't exactly clear why the surroundings were effecting him so much – he'd never exactly felt much of an affinity with nature, and there was really no reason why he shouldn't be able to just enjoy the sunshine.

Except that fact it was Christmas in five weeks kept rearing up and threatening to make his insides turn cold.

Ginny was waiting – as she always was – just behind the broom shed. When she glanced up and saw him, he was surprised to see her face flush furiously.

"What's up?" he asked quietly, ducking out of sight between the shed and the trees it backed onto and bending to kiss her.

She blinked and half-smiled, but looked a little disgusted.

"I'm not that repulsive, am I?" he asked, only half-joking, and in fact not a little bit worried.

"God no," she smirked, as relief flooded him. "Nothing to do with you," she added, and he felt his chest swell slightly at her tone of voice and the sharpness with which she'd reassured him. "No, it's just…" she glanced up at him, then had to drop her gaze again. She didn't seem to know where to look.

"I think Ron and Hermione are… canoodling in the shed," she blurted out, as if she didn't want to be saying the words at all. It was all Draco could do not to burst into fits of hysterics. He failed to restrain his look of incredulity, but he hadn't been trying that hard to hide it in the first place.

"Really?" he said, sneering. "That's… not a nice image."

Ginny grinned. "Try being related to one of them."

Draco eyed the wall to his right. "Seriously though?" he asked, looking at the grain as though it would part before him simply at the sheer force of his desire to know if it was true or not.

"Listen," Ginny said, putting her ear to the wood. Draco copied, feeling the rough warmth of the worn wall against his ear and its muffled hardness along his side. For a few seconds he couldn't hear anything while his hearing adjusted, until the shockingly clear sound of someone giggling broke over him and he leapt away.

"Merlin!" he laughed, sticking his ear back to the wall. "Was that Granger?"

"Yeah," Ginny said, looking revolted once more. "Urgh. Can we go?"

"Please let's," he agreed, grabbing her hand and steering her through the trees on the outskirts of the forbidden forest. There was less chance of them being seen together when they travelled just far enough in not to be seen clearly, but not so far that they couldn't see.

For some reason, Draco found it distinctly difficult to restrain the furious grin that he had on his face. Maybe it was the smugness with which he appreciated having something on Granger. Maybe it was the heady mix of seeing Ginny blushing and the continued heat in the air. Maybe it was just the fact that he was with someone who didn't want to see him in terrible pain, but he was suddenly feeling happier than he had in days.

"Ginny," he began, helping her over a fallen tree trunk as they picked their way around the edge of the forest, but he couldn't find the words to finish the sentence.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing."

Ginny looked up. "What is it? C'mon, you were going to say something."

"Just about the weather," he said, in a tone which he hoped suggested he'd dismissed the comment. It was true – he was about to talk about the weather – but he couldn't quite find the right way to say that the heat wave was disconcerting him out without sounding like a big… girl.

He chided himself mentally. He knew that if he'd thought that out loud Ginny would have hit him, probably rather forcefully, in the shoulder.

"Not like you to make a comment about something as trivial as the weather," she said, looking at him sharply. "You wouldn't waste your breath on something as mundane as that."

He grunted. He didn't want her to know that the fact she knew him so well was a matter of great pride to him.

Ginny suddenly drew to a halt. He started – he'd thought they were heading to the far side of the lake, but they'd stopped short of Hagrid's hut, out of sight.

"What is it?"

Ginny held up a hand, silencing him.

"I thought I heard something," she whispered.

Draco stopped moving. He let his ears take in the noises from the forest around them: leaves moving, twigs brushing against on another. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted and ruffled its feathers. He couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary. Ginny was still frowning though, peering through the trees deeper into the heart of the forest.

"No," she murmured. "I can't hear it anymore."

Draco shrugged. "Maybe there just wasn't anything there?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm certain there was. Positive."

They stood there again, pausing in the fern-laden woodland. Eventually, Ginny let it drop and they resumed their walk through the forest boundary. Draco clung onto her hand, partly to reassure her, but mostly so that he himself was certain she was alright. They walked in silence, which wasn't unusual for them – except that this particular silence wasn't comfortable; it wasn't as easy as it normally was. It was punctuated by the fact that they were both listening intently to their surroundings, waiting and straining there ears. Draco was more than relieved when they reached the other side of the lake and broke out of the undergrowth onto the shoreline. The sun was beating generously, reflecting roughly off the wet pebbles in the shallows.

Suddenly Ginny's attention was focused solely on him again.

"So?"

He looked at her. "So… what?"

She smirked, crossing her arms. She looked very intimidating, and he couldn't deny that her appearance made him a little bit apprehensive. "Don't think you can get away with it that easily. You were going to say something earlier. And it was not about the weather."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"It really wasn't anything," he said.

Ginny immediately opened her mouth to argue, but before she could speak, he decided it was probably best if he didn't let her get started. Diving forwards, he planted his hands either side of her neck and covered her mouth with his own.

"Mmph!" she said, but she was kissing him back, and in the long run, that was all that really mattered.

Several long minutes passed, during which time his mind wandered. Not far, mind you, mainly closer to Ginny. To her neck and her hair, and her warm, wet mouth, and the small of her back where his hand kept dawdling, tugging her closer so that she was flush against him. To be fair, she didn't let him bully her: her own fingers were doing their own damage to his sense of restraint and gentlemanly behaviour. When he realised that his blood supply was lacking anything with a semblance to oxygen, he thought it might be time to pull away.

He looked down, and was thoroughly thrilled at Ginny's appearance. Her hair was tangled, her bottom lip was utterly ravaged, and that was to say nothing of the scarlet blush she was sporting.

"You know, if you think that distracted me," she smirked, "you're sadly mistaken."

He sighed, but stopping his grin was impossible.

"All right," he shrugged. "Fine. Here, come sit down here, and I'll tell you all about it."

She did as she was told, but threw him a half-amused, half-don't-you-patronize-me glare, and settled herself on the prickly, moss-strewn ground, and looked expectantly up at him, her eyes wide.

He ran a hand threw his hair for a second time.

"It's nothing really," he began, but he was a little bit scared by the look she threw him, so he hurried on. "But this heat wave is really…" He grasped for the right word. Nothing seemed to exemplify just how uncomfortable it was making him. "Bothering me," he said lamely.

Ginny just nodded. "I can understand that. It is a bit weird."

"A 'bit weird'?" he repeated, throwing himself onto the ground next to her. "A bit? It's bloody insane."

"Yeah," she said, leaning back on her arm. "No reason why you should let it bother you so much, though," she went on, and when he tried to argue that it wasn't that much of a problem, she poked him. "It must've been a big deal, or you wouldn't have tried not to tell me quite so vehemently."

He smiled sheepishly.

"Not like you to get so ruffled though," she said quietly, looking at him intently. "Quite so… flustered."

He glanced at her, and then had to do a double take to take another look at the expression clouding her big brown eyes like pools of treacle. Whatever it was made it feel like a balloon had expanded inside his chest.

"F-flustered?" he said, feigning a nervous stammer.

She grinned. "Mm-hmm."

Draco couldn't contain the smile that crept from his belly onto his lips, and watched as his fingers moved – entirely of their own free will – to fiddle with the hem of Ginny's T-shirt. Her skin felt hot – and that was saying something, considering the fact that the air was also unnaturally sweltering. He lowered himself onto his elbow so that he was level with her and nudged her nose with his. She giggled, and pressed her lips softly against his. He thought it was bizarre that the brief contact made him flush so completely, like he was being gently filled with warm water. Before he knew it her hands were on his waist and slipping coolly underneath his shirt.

He felt himself shiver. Which was silly. He'd done this before. Many times. But he understood why doing it with Ginny made his blood boil. It was idea that she wasn't doing it because he was popular and powerful. He was neither of those things. Yet, here she was, thrusting her fingers into his hair. Worshipping his mouth like it was sacred. Pulling his arse so that he was pressed smugly against her and he could feel—

He froze, then pulled away pretty sharpish. She looked surprised.

"What's the matter?"

He swallowed, staring at her.

"Draco? You're worrying me."

"You," he croaked. He stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again. "You don't have to do—"

"Anything I don't want to do?" she said, obvious in the way she was smiling that she was finding something very funny. "Believe me," she said brightly, shoving him onto his back and leaning over him, "if I didn't want to do this, we sure as hell wouldn't be doing it."

He grinned. "Oh. Well I thought I'd better check…"

"Less talking, more kissing."

"Right you are," he agreed, before tugging her back on top of him. After a second though, Ginny let go.

"What makes you think I wouldn't want to snog you?" she asked, frowning. "Senseless," she added, as an afterthought.

He didn't really know.

"I don't really know. Just… you've never really seemed to be into the whole public displays of affection thing so I assumed—"

"Draco, word to the wise: with me, never assume anything."

He shook his head. "Never again," he muttered.

&

"Oh, Merlin!" Ginny gasped. "I was meant to meet McGonagall an hour ago!"

Draco gaped as she promptly leapt to her feet and started half-striding, half-jogging back towards the castle, skirting the edges of the under-growth. Draco called after her, but she appeared not to hear. He tried to follow, but ran headlong into something very solid but very transparent.

His hands flew back to break his fall and crushed fern and bark beneath his palms. From someone in the foliage he heard pronounced speech, which had no inclination to keep itself low. This, more than if it had been worried about loudness, frightened Draco, and he found himself darting his hand towards his wand, only to feel it rocket up, into the air, and land on the ground several meters away.

"Leave the wand, Malfoy, you won't need it."

For one terrible, bone-freezing moment, he was sure that the Deatheaters he had eluded so well before now had finally caught up with him – until he saw Potter step forward out of the trees, followed by Weasley and Granger.

Draco scowled. "Oh, it's you."

"Yeah, Malfoy, it's us," Potter snapped, pulling his wand free of his cloak. "We want to talk to you about Ginny Weasley, if you've got the time."

Draco glanced from them to the path, down which Ginny had scrambled.

"Did you charm Ginny into thinking she had a meeting with McGonagall?" he asked.

"Very good," Weasley said smarmily. "If you catch onto things this easily then this conversation shouldn't tax you too much."

Draco was torn between his natural instinct to defend himself against them – physically and verbally – and the thought of what Ginny would say if she found out he hadn't been cooperative.

"We're going to make this as quick and painless as possible," Granger said, in a mild but firm tone. "If you leave Ginny alone and stop seeing her, your life will be very simple."

"If you keep going out with her," Potter finished, "then Hogwarts is going to become a very unpleasant place for you indeed, Malfoy."

Malfoy stared at them.

"You what?"

Ron visibly rolled his eyes. "Malfoy, you great thick git. Leave. My. Sister. Alone. Got it? Not too difficult to wrap your big blond head around, is it?"

"If you don't," Granger said softly, "then there's a very good chance that you won't make it through the school year."

"You're threatening me?"

Weasley laughed harshly. He couldn't believe that Ginny was related to someone so incredibly stupid. "And the penny finally drops."

Malfoy couldn't say anything, because there was a massive volcanic eruption of anger and hate boiling up inside him, and it was making cognisant thought almost impossible. He knew, knew, that if Ginny were here, they wouldn't have even had the guts to suggest…

"And why couldn't you say this in front of your sister, Weasley?" he asked calmly, knowing full well what effect she had over him. Weasley swallowed.

"She wouldn't—"

"Don't tell me you think she'd let you do this?" he smirked. "Ginevra Molly Weasley? Not. Bloody. Likely. Mate. She knows what you think you me, and she doesn't think the same," Thank Merlin. "So why won't you just let her get on with her own life, eh?"

Granger shook her head slowly. "Malfoy, you know we couldn't let this thing between you two carry on. Think about it: she's a good guy. She's a hero, Malfoy, and you…" She looked almost apologetic. "You've been our… well, enemy for…"

"Been," he spat. "Not anymore, never again. Since Mum and Dad—"

"Oh, don't give us that rubbish about your bloody parents," Weasley began, but Draco didn't let him finish. Forgetting his wand entirely, Draco lunged forwards and pushed Weasley up against a nearby tree, stumbling and clutching for footholds in the fern-strewn forest floor.

Malfoy panted. "Don't you say another word about my parents, you sodding little Weasel. You know nothing about it," he ground out. "Nothing."

He wheeled around, and thrust his wand at Potter.

"You think that you're in charge now, right? Since Dumbledore d-died—"

"Oh, don't act like you didn't have anything to do with that, Malfoy!" Granger said firmly. "You killed him, close enough. You shouldn't even speak his name."

Malfoy, despite himself, chuckled coolly. "Shouldn't say his name? Fear of the name, Granger, fear of the name. Well bloody sod it," he choked. "I don't care what you think of me, but I'm with you lot now. I'm on your damn side, I'm fighting the good fight, right? I'm going defeat V-Voldemort, with or without you support, and then I'm going get my sodding life back, all right? And if your sis," he added, turning to Weasley, "if your sis – who, by the way, I happen to be rather in love with – if your bloody sister wants to help me, wants to be with me, with the little filth-covered ferret boy… then as far as I can see that's her decision, not yours."

&

Of course, they hadn't agreed. Granger had looked mildly surprised, but was stubborn to the point that Draco wanted to bash her head against a tree when she said they would never let it carry on. The Chosen One and his sidekick Weasel had been nothing but furious, and had threatening to leave there wands on the mantelpiece and beat him into the ground the next time they saw him within spitting distance of Ginny.

Draco lay silently on his bed, taking in the colours and shifts of the light on his canopy over head, mulling it all over. Not that there was anyway in hell that he was going to stop seeing Ginny, but still, they'd given him things to think over: his own words, more then theirs, though.

Was he really fighting the good fight? It's not like he'd even declared his switch over. And he certainly hadn't done anything that could be construed at helping the good guys. No. He wasn't anything he'd said he was.

But he wanted to be. So incredibly painfully… Every time he thought about Ginny, searing, guilt-filled pain flared in his chest. He needed to find a way to help her. To help them all.

The door to the room swung open, and closed. Draco, waited for sounds of people going to bed, but none came. Then, suddenly, his curtains were ripped open and he was faced with seven or eight surly looking Slytherins.

He said nothing.

"Draco," Zabini said sharply, stepping into view from behind Crabbe. "We've got a small problem."

"Oh," he frowned, sitting up carefully and refusing to look away from Zabini's cold, dark stare. "And what's that?"

"You."

Ah. Well. Should've seen that coming, really.

"Blaise," Draco said quickly, feeling each and every eye on him. "I can explain."

Zabini's carefully crafted icy façade melted slightly, into a scowl of fury.

"It better be good, Draco, whatever you're about to tell us, if you really are running around with that dirty little stoat Ginny Weasley."

Bypassing the rage that had reared up inside his chest making it feel like it was about to explode, Draco thought. This could work in his favour.

"Zabini," he said carefully, deliberately, "you great dolt. I'm only pretending to go out with her."

The confusion on Zabini's face was plain.

"Pretending?"

"Pretending, genius. What better way," he said swiftly, excitedly, "of getting into Potter's inner circle, than by rolling around with little Ginny Weasley?" He sat back, crossed his legs in what he hoped looked relaxed and easy, and shrugged, cursing himself for him next words. "Besides, on top of that, I get to take a tumble with the easiest Gryffindor in the history of that bloody tower, and find out exactly how easy it is to pry apart her dimpled knees."

&

Yes, "dimpled knees" is in fact a homage to Spike, from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I can see a certain coughperoxidecough correlation between Malfoy and Spike - though perhaps Malfoy's not quite so smooth as Spike - and I just wanted it there.

(When reviewing, anyone who can tell me which episode that quote comes from can have a line or an idea or something put into the next chapter. Something small, but I'll write it in and credit you.)

Please R & R. Nothing less encouraging that a silent audience. Reviewers can have: Smooth Draco, who wants to flatten all the moss; Shy Draco, who wants you make sure you're not going too fast; or Cocky Draco, who wants to assume things...