"I think I would know if he stopped," said Draco simply. "Heś always loved you…it would be a reversal of everything he is." He leaned forward then and touched her cheek with his fingertips. "You know as well as anyone what heś been through," he said. "Just try to talk to him…" He sighed and dropped his hand. "Forget it. Itś not in my nature to give advice to the lovelorn. Ask someone with a more successful romantic life, thatś my suggestion."

"You´ve got a girlfriend," Hermione pointed out.

"Right." Draco sat back, his mouth twisting into something that might have been a smile, or not. "So I do."

The late afternoon sunlight streamed in through the small window in Hermioneś room, throwing a square of dark gold light onto the bedspread where Ginny sat, watching Hermione rearrange her books.

Being Head Girl, Hermione had been given her own room this year. Being Hermione, she hadn´t spent much time decorating it. There was the bed with a flowered coverlet, three full bookshelves, a writing desk, and a vanity table with a mirror attached; pictures of Harry, Ron and other friends were stuck into the frame. There was another picture of Harry and Hermione together on the bedside table. There were no pictures of Draco.

Perhaps, Ginny thought uncharitably, he didn´t show up on film.

"Well, I think," said Ginny, resting her chin on her hand, "that it might be time for Desperate Measures."

Hermione, who was wearily moving around the books on her dresser, looked alarmed. "Desperate measures?" she faltered. They had been discussing the Harry Problem, and she had been growing increasingly more tense.

"Yes," said Ginny, assuming a serious expression. "Short skirt. Tight top.