Disclaimer: blah, blah, blah... I own nothing, you should know that by now.
A/N: Some of you might be wondering why this fanfic is classified as drama/mystery. Until now it's been purely dramatic. Well, the mystery part begins NOW! Hope you'll like it. And if you hate it, tell me. Thank you to everyone who reviewed!
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CHAPTER THREE
~ The new patient ~
I want to wake up and have that wonderful feeling you do after a nightmare: it didn't happen, it wasn't real.
(Barbara Vine - Asta's book)
She had to see to the new patient who had been brought to St Mungo's a few days ago. He was still unconscious and sported a wound under his ribs. He was jinxed, but they still didn't know what spell hit him. She went up to the fourth floor and entered the SPELL DAMAGE corridor. The soap-suds floated above her head, casting dim light on the walls lined with portraits. In the ward thirty-two the victims of unliftable jinxes, hexes and incorrectly applied charms occupied two rows of beds.
The shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling, gave little light, so she went to the window and pulled away the curtains. Bright rays of the morning sun flooded the room and chased away the slumberous tranquility as its residents opened their eyes to a new day.
On the last bed on the right lay an immobile body of a young wizard. He was the only patient who was not awakened by the sunlight. His pale, almost transparent face blended with the pillow he was laying on. His eyes were closed tight and if not for his faint breath, Ginny would have thought he was dead.
She checked her clipboard.
NAME: Miles Bletchley.
AGE: 26.
JINX: unknown
OTHER INJURIES: an open wound under the ribcage, probably of non-magical origin.
His possessions - clothes and his wallet - were thrown on his bedside cabinet in a heap. She wondered why no one had tidied it up. With great care, she smoothed out creases and put his clothes in the cabinet.
She was folding his cloak, when something fell out of the pocket and slipped to the floor. She bent down and picked it up. It was a black-and-white picture of a young man, probably in his early twenties. Long platinum-blond hair was falling in his eyes, almost concealing his face. He kept brushing away the wayward strands. His expression was unreadable and his grey eyes were empty. And then he smiled. She would have recognized this smile anywhere. For the second time this week Ginny was stunned.
She was afraid to believe her eyes. It couldn't be Draco, could it? When he disappeared, he was twenty-one years old, but in this picture he looked older. If it was taken recently, it meant that he was alive. She was dizzy with excitement. She had been right all along, hadn't she? He was alive.
She turned it over. On the reverse side something was written in lilac ink. These were not words, but some kind of a code. It said:
DM
17 aug. 18.30
KC St.
DM? Does DM mean Draco Malfoy? And then there is a date - August 17th. It triggered
some vague recollection and she was sure it all meant something, but Ginny couldn't think straight. The feeling of relief and happiness was so immense, that she thought she would soar into the air.
She stared at her new patient. Who is this Miles Bletchley? And what does he know about Draco Malfoy?
She was desperate to hear the answers to her questions and so she rushed to the ground floor.
A middle-aged witch with glasses perched on her nose was sitting at a desk marked Enquiries. Her badge read Violet Waterstone in small curvy letters. She was too absorbed in the crossword puzzle in Witch Weekly, and didn't hear Ginny come up to her.
"Hi, Violet," Ginny greeted the welcome-witch.
"Oh, Ginny!" she smiled at her. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, that new patient on my ward," she began uneasily. What was she going to say? She was afraid that Violet would see through her, that she would suspect something. Then she plucked up her courage and began with more confidence: "I'm worried about him. He's very weak and still unconscious, and I was wondering if maybe you had some information on him. You know, who he is and where he's from, so that we can notify his family."
Violet nodded and ran her finger down a long list in front of her.
"Oh yes, Bletchley, Miles Bletchley. Got a nasty wound, pour thing."
With bated breath, Ginny waited for her to cast some light on the matter.
"Hmm, there is nothing, I'm afraid. It's a good thing we could identify him, but no one ever comes to see him. He's got no family, I think. It's a pity we can't ask him."
"Yes," Ginny murmured, "well, thanks for your help. I should go."
With her hopes somewhat deflated, she went back upstairs to check on her patients on other wards. She felt like crying. She knew it was silly, but she imagined that Violet would have a whole file on him. Then she pulled herself up sharply. She waited three years to hear something from him, and now when she was almost positive that she found him, she lost heart. No, one way or another she would find a way to learn more about the picture. Until then she kept herself busy, staying away from the ward thirty-two.
A few hours later she allowed herself to have a peek at him again. Someone brought flowers in a beautiful vase and placed it on his bedside cabinet. He still looked a little peaked, but his breathing got raspy and, in a way, it made him look more alive.
She stopped at the foot of his bed, hesitating. She wanted to have another look at the picture. She was drawn to it and found it very hard to resist the urge to see Draco's dear face. But no, she chastised herself, it belonged to Bletchley and she couldn't just look through his stuff. She pulled a warm duvet around him and just stood there, unwilling to leave.
The door opened and closed behind her. She turned around to see Mabel come in quietly. She walked up to Ginny and stood beside her.
"Still unconscious, is he?" she asked.
Ginny nodded.
"I reckon he was involved in something dodgy," Mabel whispered, eyeing his limp form.
Ginny looked at her, bewildered.
"You don't get jinxed like that by accident," Mabel explained.
Ginny peered at him again, and recalled the mysterious picture in his pocket. She just had to find out. She had to. She raked her brain for a solution. She knew that in her desk Violet kept some secret files from the Ministry of Magic about the patients, and she wondered if there was something about Miles Bletchley. If he was really involved in something 'dodgy', like Mabel said, the Ministry would be keeping an eye on him.
Sneakily, she went to the ground floor again and waited until Violet left her desk and the reception area was empty. Then she quickly ran to the desk and crouched beside it. Above the desk hung a large portrait of a witch with long silver ringlets. She raised her pinched brows in surprise, upon seeing Ginny.
"Dilys, I absolutely have to do this," Ginny explained.
The witch on the portrait just shrugged and left the canvas.
All drawers were unlocked, except for one. She tapped it with her wand and whispered 'Alohomora!', but the drawer did not yield. She tried a stronger spell and to her relief the lock clicked open. One by one she took the folders out and scanned the covers. It was classified information from the Ministry and if she got caught, it would be hard to explain her sudden interest in it. She was angry to see that none of the folders bore his name. She flipped through them again. No, there was nothing there. She wanted to curse out loud.
Still she wasn't giving up. She went to her small office on the fourth floor that she shared with Petra Greyhawk. She sat at her desk and tried to think harder.
"Miles Bletchley…Bletchley," she reiterated.
And then she remembered. But of course! He was the Slytherin Keeper at Hogwarts! He used to take the mickey out of her brother, who back in those days was a rather poor Keeper. He knew Draco from school! But why would he carry his picture in his pocket? His recent picture? The only conclusion she could come to is that Draco and Bletchley kept in touch, even though Draco took sides with the Order. Did he do that to spy on Death Eaters? The more she thought about it, the more questions she had. She just had to wait for her patient to wake up and tell her everything.
There was nothing left to do, so she decided to do some work instead. Sighing, she took out her notebook and a quill. She dipped the quill in a bottle of ink, and started filling in grids and charts. She worked until she was too tired to do more. She should just go home, she thought vaguely. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
If it were possible, she would turn back time and undo this all. She wanted to go back to where she was before the war, laughing with her friends or bickering with Ron. She wanted her only worry to be that Gryffindor wouldn't win the House Cup. And most importantly, she could start anew with Draco and make sure he stayed alive.
Ginny was walking down the pitch-black corridors of the castle, inwardly cursing herself for forgetting her wand in the dormitory. The torches on the walls gave very little light and she could barely see where she was going in this darkness that enveloped her. She tried to walk slowly as to not stumble upon some statue of a deceased wizard or fall down the stairs and break her neck. It wasn't the only danger she was facing right now, though. Walking around the castle past curfew meant she could get in trouble with Filch, who had his ubiquitous cat Mrs. Norris to pry on students. She didn't entertain the thought of getting caught and so far the luck was on her side.
She was still trudging the murky corridor, groping at the wall for support, when an arm slipped around her waist and pulled her backwards. Terrified, Ginny yelped and turned around. She couldn't see the person who had caught her, but the scent she felt, couldn't deceive her. It could only belong to one person.
"Draco! You scared the living daylights out of me!" she hissed angrily.
"Did I?" he asked, feigning innocence.
Seeing Ginny open her mouth for another angry tirade, he leaned down and covered her mouth with a hard kiss, muffling her cries. She was trying to wriggle out of his arms, but he pressed her against the wall, pinning down her wrists with his hands.
When he felt that Ginny was dazed enough not to be able to try something silly, he released her hands. Immediately she pulled him closer. His eager hands slid under her cloak and he froze.
"You're not wearing anything under that?" he asked incredulously.
"No," she giggled. "I was hoping I would run into some hot bloke who would appreciate it."
"What was that?!" Draco roared and pulled her chin up, so that she would look him straight in the eye. His mesmerizing steel-grey eyes bored into hers.
"You are MINE! You hear that?!" he growled.
"Oh, I just love teasing you!" Ginny giggled again.
"You're going to pay for that, Weasley," he threatened.
"You are an insufferable…
In the corridor a door closed with a loud bang, followed by a groan. Ginny sat bolt upright. She realized that she dozed off in her comfortable chair. Sleepily, she pinned up her ruffled hair and got up. In the corridor silence resumed once more and nothing disturbed it. She locked the files she'd been working on in a cabinet and disapparated to her empty, cat-less flat for a dinner of fish and chips.
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A/N: Hmm, I wonder why no one asks me about Ginny's new last name.