A lonely figure sat in front of the fireplace at the Hog's Head, her hair wrapped up in a shawl and most of her face obscured behind a pair of large sunglasses as she stared into the flames. She was huddled in her seat, arms wrapped around herself and an untouched firewhiskey sat on the table in front of her, getting warm and flat—if it had ever been fresh in the first place. She'd been coming to the Hog's head three or four times a week, always ordering a firewhiskey, but never drinking it. The bartender didn't seem to mind. He always brought her one and sat it in front of her anyway.

There was an argument going on near the bar, but she was paying about as attention to itas she was paying to her drink. She was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to register the fight as it slowly progressed to violence. She sniffed once and swiped at a tear as it rolled down her cheek beneath her sunglasses, displacing them just enough that anyone paying attention to her would have seen the blackish spot that had already formed beneath her eye. But no one around cared enough to even notice her, which was the reason she'd come in the first place. The reason she always came here.

The Hog's Head did have its downfalls, though, which was proved when a lanky figure was thrown onto the table where her firewhiskey had been sitting, smashing the table to pieces and breaking the mug. But the woman didn't flinch, even though the young man had been thrown just inches from where she was sitting. Likewise, the bartender hadn't moved an inch; he was waiting for whatever squabble that was going on to settle itself so he could repair the furniture that was being broken. These things were usually best left to sort themselves out.

The man on the floor wasn't moving so well, either. The blow had knocked the wind out of him and stunned him so that he could only writhe a little pathetically on the floor. With some revulsion, the woman realized that his blond hair was dark near his scalp where he'd been cut on the broken mug. Despite the obvious pain in his expression, though, he seemed to be at least trying to get up and the look on his face wasn't that of a man who was going to admit that he'd been beaten. He was still fighting.

The woman sat still in her seat as a large man who could have been half giant stepped forward toward the man on the floor with murder in his eyes. He had tucked his wand away into his belt so that he could properly beat the younger man with his bare hands and there was no doubt that he had that ability.

While the woman was not normally one to get involved in these situations, not since she'd started coming regularly to the Hog's Head almost four months prior, something about the situation struck a chord with her. There was something about a larger, stronger individual throwing around a small, weaker one that left a bitter taste in her mouth. In one, lightning-quick motion, she stood to her feet, removing the large man's wand from his belt and removing her own from somewhere within her shawl. She pointed the giant's wand at his throat and her own a bit lower toward a more favored part of his anatomy. The man's eyes opened wide and he looked confused for a moment. Good, she thought. So he wasn't so bright, either.

"I think you should leave now," she said in a voice that was raspy as though from hours of crying.

The man's expression changed from confused to angry and he reached forward for the wand pointed at his throat, but the woman was too fast for him. She stepped back to avoid his hand, then pivoted on her back foot and kicked out with the momentum from it. Her kick landed precisely into one of his knees, and he howled in pain, clutching his knee and falling over. Wordlessly, the woman waved her own wand at the man and he flew into the air, upside down by his injured leg. He was screaming curses at her in a language that could have been Russian or Bulgarian, but she wasn't concerned. She waved her wand again and he flew out the door of the Hog's Head, bursting through the door frame with a spray of splinters and broken wood. The woman walked to the door just as the levitation spell faded, letting the man fall to the ground in a heap.

"You've made your point," she said darkly, tossing his wand toward him. "You can pulverize a bloke half your size and half again. And I'm sure he started it. But I'm finishing it. Come back when you're head's clear and not before."

She heaved a sigh, then turned and walked back into the Hog's Head, tapping the door frame with her wand on her way. The broken wood sprang back into place and the door reset itself on its own hinges. The bartender nodded at her on his way back to the bar. While she'd been outside, he'd repaired the table and the mug, which was sitting where it had been before, full of firewhiskey again. The blond man who had been on the floor, was now sitting a short distance from where she had been. His hair was still dark with blood, but it looked as though the bartender had stopped the bleeding while he was tending to the furniture. The man wasn't paying any attention to her as she approached. He was staring into the fireplace, looking just as empty as she felt.

When she sat down again, he turned to her and she got her first good look at his face. She was surprised to realize that she knew him but, if he noticed her shock, he hid it well.

"Thanks," he said to her, though she could tell it was a struggle from him to thank her. He turned his gaze back to the fire and said, "I think he'd have killed me."

"Not if you hadn't been letting him," she answered. "The Draco Malfoy I remember could have torn him to ribbons had he the will to do so."

Draco snorted. "Did you know who I was before or after you helped me?"

"After."

He nodded, a sadly ironic smirk on his face. "Think you'd have helped me if you'd realized before?" he asked. It was a loaded question and she could hear several other questions just behind it.

There was silence for several minutes before she finally answered, "No."

He nodded again, but his tone was bitter when he replied, "I don't blame you."

"That's more like the Draco I remember," she said, smirking as she looked toward the fireplace. "But not everything is because of you," she continued.

She reached forward and put a hand on the mug of firewhiskey in front of her, silently daring herself to drink it. After a moment, she lifted it to her lips and took a quick sip. The drink lived up to its name; it felt like what drinking fire must have been like and it burned the whole way down her throat. She closed her eyes behind her sunglasses and took another drink, gulping this time, until the whole tankard was empty. She felt the weight of the drink in her stomach like boiling lava.

"I think a year ago I'd have helped you anyway," she said slowly, blinking her eyes against the power of the drink. "But I'm not the person I used to be," she said tiredly.

Leaving the mug on the table in front of her, she got up and walked toward the door. She stopped when she heard Draco's voice behind her.

"Who are you?"

The question was so quiet she wondered if she hadn't imagined it, but when she turned to see, he was looking at her with pleading eyes.

"Doesn't matter," she answered, turning again and opening the door. As she'd hoped, the man she'd thrown out earlier had gone home or to wherever it was he was staying in Hogsmeade, and she walked out into the street unimpeded.

She stood outside of the Hog's Head and looked up at the stars. She touched her right eye under her sunglasses and winced slightly at the pain from her black eye, but it reminded her that she didn't want to go home yet. Turning down the street, she began walking through Hogsmeade—a silent ghost of what she had once been.

A hand on her shoulder made her whirl around, wand ready and pressed against the Adam's apple of whoever had followed her. Her grip on her wand didn't loosen when she saw Draco's face looking down at her, but he didn't take his hand off of her shoulder, either. Instead, he slowly raised his left hand, opening it so that she could see it was empty, and placed it on the wrist of her wand hand gently. He was looking into her face, his eyes trying to find hers behind her sunglasses.

With a slow sort of kindness, he moved his hand up her wrist to her hand and his fingers trailed across the back of her right hand, sending a tingling sensation shooting down her arm. His thumb traced a line across her whitening knuckles and he wrapped his fingers almost tenderly around her whole hand. When he felt the muscles of her hand finally begin to relax, he gradually began to lower her wand arm, his eyes never leaving hers. His hand on her shoulder moved to her neck, then to her cheek.

"I know you," he told her in a breathy tone. "I remembered… your mouth." With the fingertips of his right hand, he traced her lips and they parted slightly, her breath coming in tiny whispers as he touched her.

Slowly—ever so slowly—Draco leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, drawing a gasp from her. His lips drew a line from her mouth to her cheek and he placed a sweet kiss there, nudging her sunglasses up with his nose, revealing the black bruise that had spread beneath the skin. He pulled back just barely, both hands moving to her face.

"Show me your eyes," he said, his voice full of an aching need that paralyzed her as he removed the sunglasses.

"Oh, Ginny, no," he said, anger and shock behind his expression. "He did this to you." It wasn't even a question. "Harry did this to you."

A tear escaped from her strong barrier and Draco leaned forward to kiss it away while his hands pushed their way into her red hair, displacing the shawl that had been hiding it away. He pulled her closer to him and his mouth found hers again, more urgently this time as he kissed her, his fingers getting lost in her hair.

And she kissed him back without shame. It had been so long since someone had touched her in something other than rage. She wrapped her arms around Draco and kissed deeply with all the passion she could have given Harry—had tried to give him—but that he had rejected over and over again.

Ginny pulled away from Draco suddenly and looked up into his eyes. "Tell me I'm beautiful?" she asked, her voice cracking and her eyes welling up.

Draco placed both of his hands on either of her cheeks and looked at her with sincerity.

"You have always been beautiful."

Her tears escaped then, and her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him back into their kiss. A second later, they both disappeared with a faint 'pop'.