ceiling that was not made of stars had become just a little unpleasant.
Soft candlelight from outside cleaved into the dark room at a right angle to the wall. It was three am on a Tuesday morning.
Bugger this, he thought, as he tossed off the covers and strode out of the bedroom. It was only when he reached the landing did he remember to walk back to the room to put on some clothes.
**
Ginny wondered how she had ever survived in the Weasley household being such a light sleeper. What with the twins in the opposite bedroom, which meant that odd explosions could sometimes be heard in the dead of night (or small hours of the morning, depending on far away you were from breakfast or dinner), life ala Weasley tended to be noisy.
Harry wasn't a chronic snorer but he tended to be louder when he was extremely tired, which was the case lately. It had been a big weekend, by all accounts.
For all of ten seconds, Ginny briefly entertained the notion of waking Harry up for a bit of an early morning snuggle, but the poor man was clearly exhausted and she didn't have the heart. Besides, she was feeling a little peckish after a too-early dinner.
As she was already wide awake, she decided to compound the situation by venturing downstairs for a hot drink and whatever else she could muster up from the biscuit tin in the pantry. Maybe some drinking chocolate. And a cookie.
After that, she' d put her feet up in the lounge room and read yesterday' s paper.
Ginny was walking across the dark expanse of Grimmauld Place' s kitchen, trying to stir her coffee quietly when Draco suddenly materialised at the doorway. A bright shaft of lightning chose that precise moment to flash across the wet sky.
She was so startled by his appearance that she dropped the mug. Some of the hot liquid sloshed over her toes. The curses that followed were markedly louder than the earlier stirring.
"Hmm," said the long-haired, wild-looking apparition that was apparently Draco Malfoy, as he stared down at the dark puddle on the slate floor. "It would seem that I owe you a beverage."
**
She' d known Malfoy was in situ at Grimmauld Place, of course. It was the talk of the Ministry. Harry had complained about nothing else all of Monday. It was just that she hadn't had any time with Harry lately and considering her overworked fiance had to add babysitting Malfoy to his list of duties, she thought she'd surprise him at home late that evening.
Ginny remained convinced, as she had been many years ago, that no jury in the world could possible convict her for bludgeoning Draco Malfoy to death with the nearest, large, blunt object. In this case, that happened to be an antique, iron meat grinder, which thankfully for Draco, was bolted to the kitchen counter.
He was just that aggravating.
After a few comments about clumsiness and weak nerves being ever-lamentable Weasley traits, the last of the Malfoys carried a replacement cup of coffee out into the dining room and slowly slid it, with one finger, across the highly polished dining table towards her. Ginny knew he hadn't poisoned it because she'd watched him make the drink.
Cautiously nevertheless, she sipped it and was surprised to note that he had added the precise amount of sugar and milk that she preferred, without having to ask her.
She raised questioning eyes to him.
Malfoy shrugged in response. The candlelight on the walls made the hollows in his face more pronounced. "I remember."
"You remember how I like my coffee?" Ginny asked.
The smirk vanished. She wondered if it was just the memories doing that to him. "That time at school when I sat down at Gryffindor table to inform Potter about the friendly Quidditch match against the Aurors. We had pancakes that morning. You were making yourself coffee. It's just a detail."
"Right," said Ginny, who wished Harry made himself aware of such 'details' .
There was a short silence, during which Ginny tried to pinpoint what it was that seemed so different about Malfoy.
Of course he was older. They all were. There was his general appearance, which had been somewhat tamed since Harry had forced him at wand-point to take a shower at the Ministry before he brought him home.
After which he forced him at wand-point again to take a bath, due to a distinct, lingering, eau de camel.
And then it came to her. He wasn't angry any more. That was it. She