Author's Note: My apologies for the huge delay. I'm in a writerly mood, and thus you get some Pieces. All of this is on-the-spot betaed courtesy of Clanmalfoy and Where_Is_Truth. I hope you like this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.
"So, Miss, er, Weasley…you say you have some medical background?" the interviewer asked hesitantly.
"Yes, sir. I'm well-versed in first aid and response," Ginny said, remembering to omit the word "muggle" from her sentence, and secretly glad Madam Pomfrey had taught her such things.
"We weren't necessarily looking for a first-aid worker, you understand," the interviewer said, pausing to shuffle some papers, "but one of our nurses went on maternity leave. It would be nice to at least have someone who could treat the sunburns, cuts and scrapes that we get so the other nurses can concentrate on anything more severe."
Ginny nodded. From what she could tell, the only other jobs being offered were in serving food to the masses and cleaning up after them. Neither interested her very much, and she hadn't held out much hope for a better job.
It wasn't until she had been filling out the questionnaire that she saw a blank space where she could write her other qualifications. Hurriedly she scribbled her first-aid knowledge and it was the first thing the florid interviewer had picked up on.
"You'll have to take some tests to qualify, as we can't exactly determine the veracity of your schooling and training," the man said somewhat snidely, "but you're the only one out of the whole lot who has any medical experience."
"I'd be happy to take any tests," Ginny said, smiling tightly and trying not to let the brash American's wandering eyes bother her. "I'd be happy to have something to take my mind off my ordeal."
The man nodded briskly. "Tell your warden that you're to report to the testing room. The attendant will set you up with the first-aid certification tests. You do know CPR, right?"
The muggle abbreviation caught her off guard, and she belatedly remembered it had to do with manually resuscitating a patient. Frightfully rough, Ginny thought, as a wand to the chest to inflate the lungs and promote air flow didn't break any ribs.
"Ah, yes, but I'm not certified," she said. "Is there any way to prove my skills?"
"We have a dummy in the closet just off the testing room. You can work on him."
Ginny nodded, thinking it was awfully cruel to keep an unintelligent person in a cupboard only to be brought out to be thumped on.
***
Draco waited for his mother to break down in tears, berate him, something. You didn't just kill someone's husband, your own father, without some sort of repercussions.
Narcissa reached out her hand, cupping Draco's cheek.
"Your father and I were dead to one another long before you were born," his mother told him softly. "I'm sorry it had to be you who stopped him."
Her words, free of anger and full of love, broke him. Tears slipped down his cheeks and he was somewhat awkwardly folded into his mother's embrace.
"I didn't want that to happen," Draco blurted into her fragrant skin. "He was going to kill her!"
And then he froze. His mother's hand continued unabated, stroking her son's platinum hair.
"I know, darling. I know."
Severus Snape knew when to make an exit. And he silently left his former pupil sobbing in his mother's arms.
***
"Did P-p-professor Snape tell you?" Draco nearly blubbered, awash in relief that his mother hadn't hexed him to kingdom come.
"Inadvertently, he did," Narcissa admitted. "He was showing me your training and mentioned something about you keeping your mind off the Weasley girl and on your task."
Draco felt his face grow hot as he recalled exactly what he had been thinking about in reference to that Weasley girl.
"When my curse was lifted, Severus was the first to visit. He felt obligated to tell me that Lucius was gone, and what exactly had transpired," Narcissa continued, still stroking Draco's hair as he tried to calm himself.
"Severus found out later from Aurors interviewing the captured Death Eaters what had happened to Miss Weasley, and you, while in the dungeon. When I found out the vile things Lucius had planned…" she trailed off, a shudder plainly coursing through her. Narcissa shook her head as if to clear cobwebs, and began on a different tack.
"I asked Severus to show her to me. He provided a Pensieve of her in Advanced Potions. Despite all that red hair, she's a beautiful little thing."
Shocked to his toes, Draco righted himself as if a fire had been lit underneath him.
"You don't hate her?" spilled out of his mouth. His mother narrowed her crystal blue eyes at him and frowned.
"Perhaps you're confusing me with your father," she said coldly. "Though I favor purebloods to muggle-borns and lovers, she has done nothing to me, and is in fact distant family. You've obviously forgotten that I taught you our family tree, Draco. Molly Prewitt Weasley is a near cousin to the late Sirius Black."
Taken aback, Draco stuttered as badly as his startled Potions professor had.
"I mean, uh, I thought that you…"
"Well, you didn't think," Narcissa said. "If you love someone enough to defy and ultimately kill your father over, that's not an emotion to be trifled with."
"Yes, Mother," Draco said, still bowled over with her response and unable to say much else.
"As I understand it, she's still missing. Is that true?" Narcissa asked, her voice softening.
The lump that formed in Draco's throat prevented him from answering immediately. His mother's lips formed a small smile, and she reached out pale hands to grasp his own.
"Draco, love, I'll be coming home to the Manor within the week. Don't worry about me. Severus has volunteered to assist me here and in my transition home. I think your sole priority, at this point, should be finding Miss Weasley, because I want to meet her."
***
It was very late afternoon before Ginny, Lauren, and the six other interviewees returned to their rooms at the Refuge. Ginny had passed her CPR certification, and was gratified to learn that her initial idea of the "dummy" wasn't a person at all.
She passed her test with flying colors and was accepted onto the first aid staff. Though her first day on the job wouldn't be for another few days, she was nevertheless excited and ready to do something to pass the time.
The day's excursion had left her hot and sweaty, the sweltering Florida sun beating mercilessly against their heads and inside their un-airconditioned vehicle to and from the interview site. She'd already taken a shower, and returned to her room.
The fact that it was the first time she had been alone since she'd been admitted didn't escape Ginny. A short, hysterical bark of laughter left her and she considered for the first time her physical appearance, naked and in front of the mirror.
The vicious slashes and vile lettering carved into her abdomen by Draco's father were gone. No traces whatsoever. And as her eyes wandered as slowly as they dared from her flat belly to her breasts and above, she noticed the tiny red heart, a tireless reminder of the binding spell, sitting unmolested atop her own quickly beating heart.
Memories of the night she shared with Draco flooded her mind's eye, and she found herself suddenly battling tears that had been bottled up three weeks too long. She was scared he would never find her. She was terrified he hadn't survived that forsaken dungeon. Most of all, she was sure she would never feel his strong, reassuring presence next to her again.
Hot trails of tears seeped from her eyes, ran in rivulets down her reddened cheeks and dripped slowly onto her heaving, sobbing breasts.
Perhaps, she thought sadly, it was better to sleep and forget than wake and remember. Pulling on her Refuge-issued sweatpants and tee shirt, she retreated to her bed and turned her face to the wall, willing sleep to come and take her away. Her last conscious thought was of lying next to Draco in his bed at Hogwarts, warm and secure.
***
When Draco arrived at the Manor, the hour had grown late. He'd frittered away the afternoon at a dive that was seedy even by Knockturn Alley standards. Gulp after gulp of Ogden's went down his gullet, the burn serving as his only indication he was alive.
He never did ascertain the reason he was drinking. His mother was fine, he had Nymphadora and Professor Snape to help him peripherally (and he was going to have to sit and do some thinking about this Snape thing, when his head was clearer) and the best British Aurors were tracking down Ginny.
And perhaps that was it. They were merely tracking, and every damn tracking spell led in some ridiculously circuitous route and ended right in the confines of Malfoy Manor. His father had been a sneaky and frighteningly cunning bastard with those spells.
He staggered into his bedroom, having fallen unceremoniously from the Floo. Flopping on the bed, a half-hearted swish of his wand summoned a small vial of sobering draught. Having some trouble unstopping it, he finally set his teeth to it and came away with nasty flakes of moldering cork in his mouth. He spat on the floor, oblivious to the Aubusson carpet on his side.
Bottoms up, and ten minutes later he found himself thinking far too clearly and fielding a Quidditch game with rogue Bludgers in his head. Pulling his weary body from the soft bed, Draco made his way into the adjoining bathroom to pop an additional vial of headache remedy and bathe the smoke from the bar from his body. Shedding his clothing in a pile, Draco turned toward the sunken marble tub that dominated his bathroom, when a flash of red caught his eye.
The red heart over his own heart had healed perfectly since his father had tried to carve it out of his chest some weeks ago. But the thin, still-livid scars spelling out "blood traitor" were like beacons on his abdomen. Ruefully he touched them, wondering if Ginny had gotten any care after she disappeared. Did she land somewhere magical? Was she even alive? She had been in a bad, bad way when he had seen her last.
Looking at the physical reminder of their binding spell made his eyes sting with tears. Standing still for a moment, he watched the salt of his tears make their way down his face in sparkling tracks. He turned on the faucet and splashed cool water on his face to calm down, to wash away the evidence. That being finished, he sank gratefully into the tub and soaked.
***
It was snowing and he was waiting for her in their secret spot down by the lake at Hogwarts. He allowed the snowflakes and blustery wind to chill him, because he knew she would warm him from the inside out.
His eyes caught movement from the side and he saw her bounding toward him, her hair flying, face red, and the fur-lined cloak he had given her wrapped tightly around her person. Their eyes met, and he smiled, and she smiled, and picked up her pace.
And then she fell. Fell flat on her pretty face and snub nose and he couldn't stop laughing, laughing like his gut was going to burst. He ran over to her, where she was unceremoniously wiping snow out of her ears and he laughed more. She tried to be mad at him for guffawing, but the pleasure of seeing him with mirth in his eyes was well worth her unexpected pratfall.
And so she pulled him down, knocking his long legs out from under him, playfully shoving snow in his face. And it was her turn to make fun of him, and she did, while he tried every line of righteous indignation he knew until he ran out of things to say.
"Let me help," she said softly, sitting up to lick the snow out of his left ear, pushing the tendrils of damp hair away from his face. And he simply held on to her, succumbing to the pure joy of letting her love him, and finally being comfortable to just let her do it.
She kissed him for a long time after she stopped teasing his ear. It was never more than light touches, lightning-quick flicks of the tongue and soft suckling of the lips. He couldn't remember a time like this soft foreplay, and wondered why they hadn't done this before.
He began to return the favor, trailing soft fingertips over the shells of her ears and tunneling gently through her tangle of red waves. Knowing she loved the tactile feeling spurred him on, and he repeated the soothing motions until she was a moaning puddle in his fingers.
"Let's go down to the lake, Princess," he said, his voice faintly pleading.
"Hmm," she pondered. "Let's just stay here."
"But everyone in the castle can see us," he protested lightly.
She turned to him, her expression wan and wistful at the same time.
"No one can see us now, Draco."
Though he didn't understand, something inside his heart sang, thinking of the two of them, together, with no one looking over their shoulders, no one disapproving.
In unison they shed their outer cloaks, arranging them in the little valley they'd created in the snow. Sensing she needed to be held, he guided her gently to the warm fur and cold snow, hovering just far enough above her to allow him to unbutton his shirt and her own.
But his fingers weren't so nimble now, cold as they were, and Ginny seamlessly picked up the job, loosening the oxford cloth barriers between their breasts. The brisk air hit his chest and he gasped, not just from the cool shock but from wonder. Ginny's rounded, rosy breasts were unfettered and the sight of them hiding so coyly beneath the fabric made him hard beyond belief.
She pulled him down to her then, their bared skin touching hotly now, sweat forming between them as she welcomed his weight on her and he concentrated on being the only reason her nipples were so beautifully puckered.
She forced at least half of her mind to focus on Draco's hard length pressed against her barely covered mound. As he made love to her nipples, she snaked her small hands down between them and wormed her skirt up to her hips, feeling uncovered curls brush against the cloth of Draco's trousers.
In the back of his mind he registered her quick little fingers rustling around his nether region, and when he put more thought into it, he realized she was unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers and burrowing chilled fingers into his burning flesh.
Her touch seared him, and he hissed at her, the difference in temperatures only heightening his awareness of her.
"Witch," he bit out, looking into her glittering eyes and grinning tightly. She returned the intense look, and before he could say any more she had freed him from his underclothes and tipped her hips and he slid into her, unawares.
He had always loved the first thrust into her, and this one was all the more spectacular for being unexpected. He couldn't tell who moaned first, or the loudest, or who kept pleading for more.
She was loathe to let him more than a few inches away from her, and he forgot all about his finesse and remembered all about her and made the most of the small space in which she allowed him to move.
Rocking her hips into his, she set the rhythm she wanted and he followed fluidly, filling her completely. Her climax was close at hand, and all she could think about, think about coherently, was Draco's completion merging with her own.
Her slick walls began to contract around him, and suddenly it was less important to thrust than to bury himself to the hilt in her. The long pulses that shuddered in her tight canal were like so many tiny kisses on his erection.
He kissed her then, as her entire orgasm wracked her body and drew his own in long, satisfying throbs. And when they were sated, they lay joined together for an interminable period of time, content with melting their snow valley away with each wave of heat that radiated from them.
***
On two different sides of the breaking day, hours and hours and hundreds of miles away, Draco woke in his marble tub, the water clear, cold, and sullied with his semen, and Ginny woke from her unintended nap, minutes before midnight, her face hot with arousal and her unmistakable scent lingering on the sheets.
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