When she returned to the cold, cramped room, she saw that he had stripped off his borrowed sweatshirt and dozed off on the bed, his right foot propped precariously on her pillows. Taking a moment to observe his swollen extremity, she noted a particularly nasty bruise and the slight protrusion of bone. Unhappily she realized that keeping the break immobilized and in the proper place could be difficult.
She left him a half-full bottle of shampoo and a wrapped bar of soap. A folded terrycloth robe was at the top of a stack of the twins' stolen clothing. Her mother had promised to deposit towels for him in the lavatory. As much as she wanted to wake him and get him off to the shower, where she was sure he'd feel infinitely better, she had rounds to make.
Passing unobserved through Muggle London was a blessing, she thought. As she came to revisit recurring patients and serve new ones, she knew what she could ask for in payment.
"I'll take a spare board of wood, if you please. And any leftover yarn or wool. No, I don't care what color or length. Just the end of a skein, something like that."
When she reentered 12 Grimmauld Place in the evening, her pockets were bursting with loose strings of yarn and bits of wool. A surreptitious shrinking spell had reduced the five short boards she'd procured to mere splinters in her handbag.
The house was curiously silent, and Ginny knew why when she came into the kitchen.
All eight other Weasleys, Tonks, Harry, Lupin, Snape and Kingsley Shacklebolt were sitting at the hastily elongated dinner table, all perceptibly giving Draco extra space as they ate dinner.
Professor Snape was the only one brave enough to sit directly next to Draco, thus the chair on his other side was empty. Ginny removed her coat and draped it over the back of the rickety chair, and a clean plate passed wordlessly down to her.
"Ginny, how was your day?" Tonks piped up, daring to break the silence she could hardly stand.
"As usual," she said softly. "But some of the people are getting better. Professor Snape's divided potions were more powerful than we originally thought. More able-bodied witches and wizards are well."
A hmph sounded from Snape, and she realized it was the only acknowledgement he'd make of her statement.
But Tonks' question was enough to start conversation. Ginny wondered how long they'd been sitting in silence.
Food was shuffled down to her and she filled her plate.
"Draco, could you please pass the butter?" she asked. He nodded tersely and handed the small crock to her.
"Well, one thing's for sure," she said lightly, her words meant for his ears only.
"What?"
"You've showered."
"Yes, Weasley," he snapped quietly. "I'm poor but I still bathe."
The rest of the table was jovial except for the little cabal of darkness at one end.
***
She walked ahead of Draco into her room, and instructed him to get on the bed.
"What tiresome thing have you planned now, Weasley?" he asked acidly. "Jumping jacks? Sliding down the banister? All activities I'm sure will strengthen my foot."
"Just shut up," she said tiredly. "I got these for you." And forgetting they were shrunken, she pulled out the five splinters she'd bound together with string.
"Oh, to pierce my heart. Good idea."
She fought the urge to deck him.
"No, you damned prat," she seethed. She took out her wand and removed the spell as quickly as she could. The boards fell out of her hand and clattered to the floor.
"I'm going to make you a splint," she said. "It's not as good as a cast, and Professor Snape does not have the ingredients he needs to help mend the bone properly. It will have to be done more primitively."
Draco's head fell back on the pillow. "I thought Snape could open his robes and find an entire apothecary in there," he moaned.
She barely succeeded in holding back a tart comment that there was a war going on.
"Fine, do whatever you have to do," he said dismissively, but she couldn't help but notice the apprehension in his voice.
"Please, just sit up and hang you knees over the edge of the bed. I'm going to see which of these fit you the best and bind it to you."
"Are you sure you care to do that sort of lingering spell?" he asked, voice suddenly without rancor.
"I've done it before for a patient who had a broken arm. I had Mad-Eye Moody check up on it at random times. He said he could only pick up the faintest flicker of magic, and only because he was looking for it."
"I don't trust that Moody, he's dangerous, do you know that?" Draco asked, unresolved anger creeping into his voice. "Do you recall him turning me into a weasel?"
"I believe a ferret is part of the weasel family, Draco," she said lightly.
He began to drone on extensively about how much he hated Moody, hated the Aurors, and hated his cousin Nymphadora. Trying hard to ignore him, she decided his rant was probably a good thing; he needed to vent some steam. Besides, it was taking his mind away from his foot as she splinted it, and it wasn't until she cinched the contraption with a spell did he utter an expletive.
"Fucking hell, that's tight!" he swore, leaning down and swatting her hands away. "Do you mean to cut off all blood supply? I can't run after Death Eaters with a stump, you know!"
"Any looser and you won't be running at all," she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "Without being able to take you to St. Mungo's, I can't tell how long you'll have to stay off your foot."
He hung his head, shaking it.
"I can't believe I was so stupid," he muttered, swinging his legs back into her bed and pulling the blankets up to his waist.
"You can hardly help breaking a bone when you're dodging an Unforgivable, Draco," Ginny said, her tone a bit softer now.
He averted his eyes and turned over, facing away from her.
"No, that's not what I mean."
"Well, what do you mean?" she asked reasonably.
"You're a nosy chit, you know that?"
"Inquiring minds want to know."
"They have my mum."
"What?" she blurted. "No one said anything about your mum."
"Why would they?" he asked bitterly, raising his head to eye her coldly. "Narcissa Malfoy, wife of the Death Eater, mother of the spawn."
"But Snape always said your mother had no part in this!" Ginny exclaimed, feeling sick.
"Yeah, well, she didn't," Draco railed. "Not until my father got the extraordinarily brilliant idea of using her to bait me."
Bile rose in her throat and she covered her mouth, willing herself not to think of her own father offering up her mother as a sacrifice.
Seeing her recoil, Draco barged ahead.
"Yes, Weasley, war's a bitch, isn't it? My father knew I would be on that raid, and made it known that he had my mother. He would release her from Merlin knows where if I showed up to collect her and gave my word I wouldn't rat him out."
He paused, hatred twisting his face.
"And like a right idiot I showed up early, not only proving to my father that there was a raid but giving him a chance to shut me up. Guess I'm lucky he didn't actually try to kill me. Very civil of him."
"What about your mother?" Ginny asked dumbly, not able to hold back the question.
"What about her, Weasley? I conveniently ended up here under your wing. I certainly have no idea where she is or how she is, only that I'm sincerely hoping my father hasn't thrown her to his friends for fun."
Knowing with absolute certainty the type of fun he was alluding to, she looked up and wished she hadn't. His face was a mask of stone, but a single tear had already run its course and left a trail.
"I need you for one thing, Weasley, and that's to get me fixed up again. Because I will need all my strength to kill my father with my bare hands if he's even so much as broken her fingernail."
A loud knock broke the charged atmosphere. Molly Weasley ducked her head into the room with a big smile and two steaming mugs of cocoa.
"I thought you two dears might need some sustenance," she said, bustling over to them and pressing the handle of one of the mugs in Draco's hand.
"Now, Draco, I know how much you like sweets, and I made this especially for you."
He took it cautiously, sipping the rich drink carefully.
"Thank you," he said formally. "But how did you know I liked sweets?" he asked, an edge to his voice.
"All the Blacks do, dear," she said, patting his head. "Your cousins Sirius and Nymphadora, your aunt Andromeda."
He could only nod as she turned to Ginny.
"Ginny, love, I've brought you more jumpers," Molly said. Ginny fought not to roll her eyes, but knew this was the best way to get her out of here.
"Thanks," Ginny said, trying to smile at her mother.
"Ginny, I think your father will be up here soon. He said he had something to talk to the both of you about," Molly said.
"I do," said a voice from the doorway. Arthur Weasley walked in, his face looking wearier and more lined than Ginny could recall.
He faced Malfoy and directed all of his comments at him.
"Now that you're up and around, I think it's time we moved you to a different bedroom," Arthur said tightly. "It's inappropriate for you to stay here in Ginny's bed, especially with her…" he paused, and turned a glare on Ginny now, "not staying with her brothers like she promised."
"It's fine," Draco said, draining his cocoa and setting the empty mug on the bedside table. He began to move himself off the bed, but Ginny saw him wince and immediate shot up to face her father.
"Da," she said firmly, "I know you want to put him in the room beneath the stairs, and I won't have that."
Unused to such a reply from his daughter, Arthur's expression at once turned from mildly menacing to confused.
"Why not, Gin?" he asked. "I don't see any problem with it."
"There's no problem with moving rooms," she said, "but if he stays here he's closer to the loo and he won't have to go up and down the stairs."
"I told you I don't need you to fight my fights for me," Draco said, his eyes snapping in barely restrained anger.
"You told me you needed me to make you well again," she pointed out, "and having you break your neck on those stairs is not going to put you back out on the trail."
Turning back to her parents, Ginny spoke again.
"Now that that's settled, can you two help me take some blankets down there?"
Draco was all but forgotten as the Weasleys trailed after their daughter. He could hear Molly fretting about how chilly Ginny would be. He sneered, laughing at Arthur Weasley's feeble attempt to defend his daughter's honor. Thank Merlin most of their clan tried to avoid him.
Nature called him then, and he made his way awkwardly to the loo, making a fair bit of noise with his splinted foot on the polished floor. Once returned to his room, he settled as deeply as possible into the available covers. He had discovered the small pile of Weasley jumpers Molly had left behind and wrapped one around his feet and the other around his shoulders.
As he lay there, hovering between sleep and wakefulness, he vaguely thought that it was too bad he'd lost his bed-warmer. Ginny Weasley was perfect for the job, and now she was a flight of stairs down and shivering alone, just like him.
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