Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters or places.

Author's Note: Fluff. Multi-chapter fluff. It began as a one-shot, but grew. More will be out, but not before next week. Please leave feedback.

Chapter 1 - Chill

It started out simply enough. I saw a younger student standing out in the snow. Most non-Slytherin students would be shocked to learn this, but I'm a pretty nice guy. I try to watch out for the younger students. It was practically a blizzard out, so I did the natural thing and went to make sure the kid was alright.

Then I saw the red hair.

"Weasley."

It was the little one – the girl.

"Malfoy." She didn't even turn to look at me. She just stood staring out towards the forest. Not that you could see it in this weather. She made quite a striking figure, all that flame-colored hair against the white snow.

That was when I noticed she wasn't wearing her cloak. Merlin! She wasn't even wearing shoes! Her bare fingers and toes were taking on a blue tinge.

I didn't even pause to think. I picked her up and carried her inside. Where to next, though? I decided on the kitchens. It would be warm, and I knew the elves wouldn't ask questions.

Weaslet on the other hand –

"What are you doing? Put me down!"

She sounded so shocked and affronted that I nearly laughed. "You were going to get frostbite. We need to get you warmed up." She settled for a moment after that.

"It won't do any good," she whispered forlornly.

"Sure it will," I said with just a touch of my famous sneer. "It'll keep you from losing your fingers and toes. I don't expect the professors will go easy on you just because you can't hold a quill and have to hobble around like a drunken freak." I don't expect that the Death Eaters will spare you just because you can't hold a wand and can't run away.

I was surprised that I cared. But I did care. She sat silently in my arms for the rest of the trip.

There was a pause in the normal activity of the kitchen as we walked in. I set the Weaslet in a chair and draped my cloak over her. "She needs something warm," I said. An instant later we were surrounded by elves trying to give us mugs of chocolate or tea, or bowls of soup, or fresh bread. I chose tea, soup and bread for her, and a chocolate for myself. I waved away the elves and their remaining offerings. They all returned to their work except one.

I was startled to see that it was Dobby, my father's old house elf. I had wondered what had happened to him.

"You is my old bad master's son. What has you been doing to Harry Potter sir's Wheezy's sister? If you has been hurting her, Dobby will be being very cross with you." He looked quite cross.

The Weaslet rolled her eyes at me. "Hello, Dobby," she said. "It's Ginny, remember? And Malfoy hasn't been hurting me. So if you'd not say a word of this to Harry or to any of my brothers, I'd appreciate it."

He didn't like it, but after a few more grumbles about my father and I being "bad dark wizards," the elf agreed and left.

"You'd best not be spreading this around either," she said in a threatening tone. Though, the threat was greatly impaired by the fact that she looked pretty helpless at the moment – wrapped up in my cloak and still shivering while she tried to sip her tea.

"Don't worry," I said, surprised to find that I meant it. "I'm Slytherin. I know how to keep a secret."

The Weaslet – Ginny – looked startled at that, as if she'd forgotten. She stood, letting my cloak drop, and stormed out of the kitchen. Confused, I picked up the cloak and her tea and followed her.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Her tone was angry, hateful.

I ignored that for the moment. Couldn't expect anything else from a Gryffindor, really. "I want you to drink this tea and warm up a bit before you go running off barefooted through the drafty corridors."

She looked startled. Then she glared suspiciously at the tea. She made no move to take it from me.

"Look, Ginny, either you drink it or I stun you and take you to the Hospital Wing. You can be Madame Pomfrey's problem then."

"Don't you dare!" She turned her glare on me and snatched the tea away. It sloshed over the edge of the cup and onto her hand. She cried out and dropped the cup. It smashed on the stone floor.

I sighed. "Don't move. You'll cut your feet." Ginny's shoulders slumped in defeat, but she stayed where she was. I stepped carefully around the smashed porcelain. When I was beside her, I wrapped my cloak around her and picked her up. She didn't resist, just lay in my arms. She didn't move or speak until I stopped to open the library doors.

"We're not going to the infirmary?"

"You said you didn't want to. If you've changed your mind..."

"No!"

"I thought not." I set her down and opened the door. Madame Pince barely glanced at us as we passed her desk. Otherwise, the library was deserted – it was beginning to get late. "C'mon. Back this way," I whispered to her.

We walked through the stacks to a little study area that I knew prefects rarely checked on their evening sweeps. I motioned her toward one of the chairs and took a look at her burned hand. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, and a simple charm numbed the pain and protected the injury from further harm.

"Still cold?" Ginny nodded, so I cast a few warming charms on my cloak. "Better?" She nodded again.

Ginny drew her feet up into the chair and pulled the cloak closer around her scrawny frame. She looked... I took a closer look. She looked a little ill, as if she hadn't been eating properly or sleeping well. She was thin, but unnaturally so, and there were dark shadows under her eyes. "What's wrong, then?"

I was thoroughly startled when she burst into tears.

Fortunately, my mother had once told me exactly what to do in such a situation.

I wasn't entirely sure she'd approve of me using her advice to help out a Weasley, never-mind what Father would have to say about it. (Never-mind that her brothers would probably attempt to beat me into oblivion.)

Still, I put my arms around Ginny and gently patted her back. She somehow over the next few minutes ended up seated on my lap, sobbing onto my shoulder. Though I was perhaps still a bit young for it, I could see how (had she not been crying) there was a definite appeal to having a girl (and perhaps this girl in particular) seated where Ginny currently was.

Well, until she stopped crying. At which point she stood rather abruptly and shoved me backwards. The chair I was in scooted backwards several inches and nearly tipped over before I regained my equilibrium.

It was then that I came face-to-face with the full brunt of that famous Weasley temper. It was, truth be told, rather terrifying. But, (truth be told) the way it made her cheeks flush and her eyes shine, it made Ginny look like some sort of vengeful fire goddess. The wand pointed at my face only added to the image.

"What sort of game are you playing at, Malfoy?"

"No game," I said as calmly as I could manage. I remembered suddenly that I'd heard rumors that Ginny Weasley, as a side effect of growing up with so many brothers, had deadly accuracy with her wand and an extensive arsenal of fairly painful hexes at her disposal.

"Was it your father, Malfoy? Did Daddy send you to find out what damage his little prank had done – what that bloody book left behind?"

Pieces of the puzzle snapped into place.

"Is that what happened? I didn't know." I hadn't. I'm not really very promising as a potential Death Eater, so Father doesn't tell me much. Ginny's face fell. She lowered her wand and looked like she might cry again. She sat down heavily and drew my cloak around her thin body.

"Are you warmed up, at least?"

"No." No? I checked my warming charms, but they were still working at peak efficiency. "It's not your fault," she admitted reluctantly.

"If you're not warm yet, I really should take you to the infirmary."

"Don't," Ginny said, a hint of pleading in her voice. "They write your parents when you go to the infirmary. I don't want them to know." That was reasoning I could almost understand.

"To know what? That you're stark raving mad and like to run out into blizzards half-dressed?" I tried to keep my tone light, teasing. It was difficult. Teasing isn't something we do in Slytherin. If you're not willing to play for keeps, you keep your mouth shut. I must have succeeded, though. Ginny very nearly smiled.

"The cold. They think I'm all right, that I've just sort of – moved on and forgotten about it." She fell silent.

"But?"

"I haven't. It won't go away. It was so... It was dark when he was inside my head. And his thoughts were cold and cruel. And when I was dying, down in the Chamber with him draining away my soul..." Ginny paused again. "I don't think a Dementor's Kiss could be any colder than I was then. And even when I was out, the cold stayed. I just thought – with the snow – if it was colder outside, it might feel warmer inside. But it didn't work."

Ginny looked at me. She was calmer than she had been since I'd found her out in the snow.

"Don't tell anyone. I'm supposed to be all happy and innocent and naive – their precious little Gin-Gin, made of spun glass and set up on a shelf." Her expression turned hostile again. "But if I ever see Tom bloody Riddle again, I'm going to kick his bloody arse. And anyone else's that happens to be in my way."

"I'm sure you will. And, like I said, I'm a Slytherin. I'm good at keeping secrets."

"You'd better be."

I just grinned at her. She turned away after a moment, obviously unsettled.

"Here. You'd better take your cloak back. It's nearly curfew."

I couldn't help smirking. "Don't want to show up in Gryffindor tower wearing a Slytherin cloak?"

"My four larger-than-you brothers would come after you," she stated in a tone that suggested I was either stupid, or at the very least rather dense.

"How would they know it was me?" I asked. "Would you tell them? After all I did to help you, I'm wounded, Ginny." I tried using that light, teasing tone again. This time she did smile.

"You're forgetting Hermione. I'm sure they can spin it so that she'll help. Probably make it sound like they're trying to defend my honor. Which –" Ginny paused and gave me an appraising look that sent a shiver up my spine. Maybe I wasn't really so young after all.

"Well," she continued, "we're alone together, so they'll see it that way anyway. Even though you've been perfectly gentlemanly. Aside from carrying me around all over the castle against my will, I mean."

"Any time, fair maiden," I said, with a formal bow tacked on to the end. "Any time at all."

She laughed! It was quite nice, actually.

We stayed and talked until Madame Pince came and chased us out. I'd have called it flirting if I'd thought at all that Ginny might have liked me. I was certainly growing fond of her.

I walked her back to the hallway near the Gryffindor dorms. She handed me back my cloak, giggling over my high-formal farewell and elaborate bow.

"Thank you, Draco." Ginny smiled. "I guess I do feel a bit warmer now. Those were some good warming charms. You'll have to teach them to me some time."

"I could never deny a request from so fair a maiden," I replied, waggling my eyebrows at her. Ginny giggled again and said goodnight.

When she had left, I tossed my cloak back over my own shoulders. I was startled to find that it smelled like her – her scent overlaying my own.

As I walked back to my own dorm, I realized that I had enjoyed talking to Ginny. Really enjoyed it.

I wouldn't at all mind helping her warm up again.