Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: I was planning for this story to be at least ten chapters long, but in the end I decided to reduce it substantially, so that Ginny and Draco meet sooner. This means that the next chapter will probably be the last. I hope you like this chapter better than the last one.
Warning: this chapter contains some NC-17 material, so if you're uncomfortable with that (which I sincerely doubt), don't read it.
CHAPTER FIVE
~ Visions ~
There is a pleasure sure
in being mad which none but madmen know.
(John Dryden)
He wasn't the stranger in Bletchley's picture. He was her old dear Draco. His breath was so warm against her skin and he seemed so real, that she wanted to cry. She gently brushed away a strand of his blond hair that had fallen into his face. He caught her hand and pressed it to his cheek. Ginny sighed and closed her eyes. She wanted to ask him why he didn't come back, if he was alive, but the words wouldn't come out.
"Remember that I love you," he whispered softly.
"I know, I love you too," she replied hoarsely.
He cupped her face and kissed her on the lips. Then he planted light kisses on her face, on her eyelids, then on her neck…
Ginny woke up with a start. The dream was so incredibly real. She could still feel his touch on her skin. And she could swear her lips were swollen with kisses.
"What are you doing to me?" she whispered. "What in the name of Merlin are you doing?"
She wondered if he was trying to give her some kind of a sign. Now that she knew that he was alive and that he was somehow connected to Miles Bletchley, she was looking for clues, waiting for a miracle. Yesterday she knew, somehow, that she would see him again soon, and this morning she waited for him to appear in the shower next to her, and then when she was having breakfast, she prayed that he would materialize at the table across from her. But he didn't come.
At St Mungo's she mumbled a greeting to the welcome-witch and went to her office. She dumped her things on a chair and hurried to the ward thirty-two that attracted her like a magnet. She was turning round the corner, when she saw someone leave the desired ward. The man wasn't a Healer and she wanted to shout to him that it was too early for visitations and therefore he wasn't supposed to be there. He probably sensed that she had noticed him and began to walk quickly towards the doors. They swung behind him and all she saw was his broad back and a flash of platinum-blond hair. Her heart skipped a beat.
Draco? Was it Draco?
She ran towards the swinging doors and out of the corridor. Just now the familiar figure was there, but to her surprise the staircase was empty. She leaned over the railing and looked down. There was no one there.
She sat down, right there on the cold stone steps, and began to think hard. She just saw Draco Malfoy, who was very much alive. It was one thing seeing him in the picture or in her dreams, and quite another actually seeing him a few feet away. She was this close to him. She could almost touch him. But the rest seemed as vague as before. Did he come to visit Bletchley? Did he know that she was there? Did he come to see her?
No, I must be mental, she thought. If she went on like this, imagining things, soon she'd be sharing a ward a couple of floors up with Gilderoy Lockhart. The only person who knew for sure what was going on was Miles Bletchley. Resolutely, Ginny stood up, dusted herself off and marched back to the doors. She took a deep breath and entered the ward. As she expected, Miles Bletchley was awake, reading a newspaper. When she approached his bed, he looked up at her, slightly nodded, and then went back to reading the newspaper.
"I just thought I'd pop in and see how you are doing," Ginny chirped, forcing a jovial smile.
He just grumbled something and didn't bother to reply. But that didn't discourage her.
"I see that you had a visitor," she asked, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice.
"A visitor?" he asked incredulously, looking up from his paper. "I'm afraid you are mistaken. No one came to see me."
Ginny was dumbstruck. She just gaped at him stupidly, failing to come up with an intelligent response. Why did he say that he didn't see anyone, when Ginny saw Draco leave the ward? Why would he be lying to her? She peered at him, but had to admit that he was sincerely surprised.
"Oh, well," she mumbled at last. "Maybe I am mistaken after all."
In a trance, she poured two spoons of Murtlap essence in his mouth to relieve the pain of his wound and watched him wince as he swallowed it.
"Will you be so kind and fetch me a glass of pumpkin juice?" he asked, picking up his newspaper again. "That potion of yours is abominable."
"Yes, of course," Ginny replied in a barely audible voice and shuffled out of the ward.
In the corridor she bumped into Mabel.
"Morning," she greeted Ginny. "Everything okay?"
After Ginny's angry outburst the other day, Mabel was very friendly and evidently concerned about Ginny's well-being. Her caring attitude made Ginny feel even more guilty and embarrassed.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied. "Tell me, Mabel, have you seen a tall blond man walk out of the ward? Just a few minutes ago?"
Mabel pondered over it. "A tall blond man?"
"Yes, blond and young, about twenty-four years old."
Mabel looked doubtful and then her face lit. "Oh, yes, I remember now! I haven't seen him today, to tell you the truth, but he's always hanging about the reception area. A very good-looking bloke, but he always looks so sad."
Ginny stopped breathing. Draco came here before? But why hadn't she seen him?
"Has he ever inquired about Mr. Bletchley?" she asked carefully.
"No," Mabel shook her head. "Should he?"
"I have a suspicion that he came to see him today."
"Well, I don't know about that. Shall I ask Violet? Surely she knows."
"Oh, no!" Ginny cried, surprising poor Mabel. "Don't bother. It's not important. I was just curious, that's all."
"All right," Mabel nodded, "I'll be off then." And she walked away, shaking her head at her friend's idiosyncrasies.
Like a stone-hewn sculpture, Ginny stood where Mabel had left her. First Miles and then Mabel told her that Draco was nothing but a mirage. She didn't really see him. Did she imagine him under the influence of her dream? But Mabel saw him too, earlier. So, he did exist after all. She wasn't making it up. Still, she couldn't find a logical explanation for his unaccountable appearance. Either Draco Malfoy came to St. Mungo's in person, or she and Mabel were on the same drug. She rather preferred the first option.
When it was time for her enigmatic patient to drink his restorative potion again, she entered his ward with a hope that he would change his mind and somehow remember that he had seen Draco earlier that day.
She found him in his bed, looking pensive. Seeing her, he scowled.
"I don't know why you bother coming here at all," he spoke icily. "Your bloody potions don't seem to work and I'm just wasting my time here. I would be better off at home. I'm not sick anymore, so no point staying."
Ginny was taken aback by his angry tirade. He was grumpy and rude for some reason and she wondered if it had something to do with Draco. If he had come at all.
"You know, you're not half as bad for a Slytherin," she blurted out suddenly.
His raised his eyebrows in surprise. "How do you know I was in Slytherin? Were we at Hogwarts together?"
Ginny darted her eyes to the door, wondering if she could make a quick exit. She couldn't let him find out that she secretly spied on him, because that's how she reconstructed his identity.
"I just remembered you from school," she replied quickly.
"What house were you in?" he asked curiously.
She was about to say Gryffindor, when she realized that she had changed her last name. She was afraid that if she said Gryffindor, he would guess by her read hair that she was a Weasley. Not that a Slytherin would have any interest in her pureblooded, but impoverished family.
"In Hufflepuff," she mumbled.
He looked her over. "No, I don't remember."
Ginny relaxed and, fixing his clipboard back to the poster of his bed, walked towards the door.
"And about you leaving the hospital," she remembered. "I'll seriously consider that."
She dragged her feet to her office, where she crawled in her large chair. With all the exhaustion and agitation she felt like she hadn't slept in a fortnight. When Mabel came in a few minutes later, she barely acknowledged it.
"Oh, Ginny!" Mabel exclaimed in a caring, motherly kind of tone, which painfully reminded Ginny of her forsaken mother. "What are you still doing here so late? Honestly, you look haggard. Get some rest."
"Yeah," Ginny sighed, not moving. "I should."
Mabel walked over to her and pulled her out of her comfortable chair.
"Come on," she ordered, "Off you go."
Ginny smiled at her tiredly and obediently disapparated to her flat. Yawning, she slogged towards her bedroom. She didn't even bother to take her clothes off. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell asleep.
He wanted to do something special for her twentieth birthday. He said she needed it because of the war. Or despite of it. He was always full of surprises and that's one of the reasons why she loved him. Her life with Draco Malfoy was never boring.
But this time he really outdid himself. He prepared a romantic dinner for her, with candles, roses and silverware with Malfoys coat of arms engraved on it.
"You didn't actually cook it yourself, did you?" she asked, observing the laid table.
"Yes, I did," he chuckled.
Suspiciously, she looked around for any presence of the house elves, but he just laughed at her.
"I gave them all a day off."
"Well, I must say that I'm pleasantly surprised, Mr. Malfoy," she smiled.
"Wait till you actually try the food."
Ginny had to do him justice - the food never tasted so delicious before. But Draco barely touched his. Throughout the dinner he couldn't take his eyes off his beautiful and desirable fiancée. She noticed his dazed state, but chose not to acknowledge it, for she knew it was torturing him. Once or twice she licked her lips sensually and Draco gulped. She felt the anticipation escalate and finally took pity on him.
"Stay here," she said. "I'll be right back."
Draco was surprised, but did as she ordered.
"I have a little surprise for you too," he suddenly heard her whisper from behind and whirled around.
Ginny was standing in the doorway. Her long mane of flaming red hair cascaded down her shoulders and her bright brown eyes twinkled mischievously. She was wearing a tiny, see-through nightgown that clung to every curve of her lean body.
"I feel like it's my birthday," Draco smirked, as he approached her.
She pulled him towards her and kissed him hungrily. He kissed her back, exploring the depths of her mouth with his tongue. He ran his hands over her thighs and her back, eliciting lustful moans from Ginny. When he felt her knees get weak, he took her in his arms and carried her upstairs to the master bedroom.
Hurriedly, she fumbled with his clothes and he helped her by removing them with a swish of his wand. Under the cool sheets on his bed he continued his discoveries. He trailed soft kisses upon her hot skin, soon replacing his lips with his tongue. He devoured her flesh, taking in her scent, her taste. With his touch he drove her to insanity. Losing herself in him, she wondered how he could gentle and rough at the same time.
When she snapped back to reality, she realized that she was forgetting his needs. She pulled him up and wrapped her hands around his neck. Draco got the hint, he couldn't wait any longer anyway, and settled between her thighs. Slowly, he penetrated her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him sink in further. He began to move in and out of her, the intensity of the pressure inside them both steadily gaining momentum with each his stroke.
Nearing an orgasm, she dug her fingernails into the pale skin of his back, and Draco punished her by bruising her lips with a hard kiss. As the powerful waves shook her body, she cried out his name again and again. Finally he, too, reached his release and collapsed on top of her.
They lay in the near darkness of his majestic bedroom, their sweaty bodies entwined and their breath ragged. Draco looked down into Ginny's blurry eyes. A weak smile touched her lips and he realized that he wanted to have Ginny with him for the rest of his life. When the war was over, he would make her his wife and the mother of his children. Soon, he told himself, soon his dreams would come true.
He bent his head and nuzzled her neck. "Happy birthday, sweetie," he whispered in her ear.
* * *
Towards the end of the week Ginny was ready to beat her head against the wall.
Miles Bletchley was still occupying his ward, and he had not divulged an ounce of his secrets. She was prepared to feed him a veritaserum potion, risking a sentence in Azkaban, just to hear the truth.
That morning she decided to relieve the monotony of her life of a recluse and, instead of apparating to the hospital, she walked there across the Muggle London.
It was a Muggle bank holiday and the shops were closed. She was just passing the ironmongers, when she saw him again. This time there was no doubt that he was real. Dressed entirely in black, he looked very comely. She followed him, first hesitatingly, and then she broke into a run. But when she turned around the corner, he was already gone. The street was deserted. Breathless, she leaned against the wall.
So, he managed to disappear again. She'd really like to know what was going on. She didn't know what to make of his brief appearances. Lost in conjectures, she staggered towards the hospital. The ugly dummy nodded at her and Ginny disappeared behind the dirty window.
Despite her troublesome patient's assurances of his blooming health, his wound turned from bad to worse. When she came to see him, he was sprawling on his bed, stricken with fever. She took a cool rag and dabbed it on his burning forehead to relieve his suffering. She kept vigil by his bed all day. To her relief, he was feeling much better in the evening, but she stayed with him anyways. It was convenient for her to this under the camouflage of her duties of a Healer, but in fact she just hadn't relinquished her hopes yet.
"Hey, do you know by any chance where my book is?"
Ginny slightly jumped in her chair, where she had dozed off. Miles Bletchley was staring expectantly at her. She wondered if he could feel the withering curiosity gnawing at her.
"The book I've been reading," he repeated. "I can't find it."
"I shall look for it," she offered, getting up. She was on the point of walking out, when he called her name.
"Ginny?" he repeated. "Your name is Ginny, right?"
When he said her name, there was something in his eyes, as if he was trying hard to recall something. She couldn't quite decipher his expression and then, whatever that was, it was gone.
"What?" she asked.
"Can I have an extra blanket, please?"
"Of course," she nodded.
She fetched his book and a blanket, and took her seat again. Every so often she stealthily glanced up at him. She was tempted to ask the question that had been on her mind for days, but decided against it. She couldn't just ask him whether he knew a certain Draco Malfoy, could she?
"You know, you'll be all right," she comforted him. "You shouldn't worry at all, soon you'll be able to go home."
"Let's hope you are right," he sighed.
"It's a pity you've got no family or friends," she remarked as casually as she could. "I'm sure, you'd feel a lot better, if someone came to see you."
He looked at her intently as though he were trying to see something in her eyes. She had a notion that he was nervous about something. As if he wanted to tell her something, or as if something was troubling him. Or maybe she just imagined it. One can't help cherishing a hope.
Soon his eyes began to droop and he put away his book.
"Do you want me to stay for a while?" she asked quietly.
He looked up at her. His eyes locked with hers and then he nodded slowly.
She sat down beside him and watched his chest rise and fall steadily, as he breathed in and out. She had struck up some sort of peculiar friendship with this bloke. And she realized very well that the only reason she held on to him was that he could disclose the mystery of Draco's disappearance three years ago. Without his knowledge, she was using him. She tried to feel bad about it, but when you are this desperate, your conscience simply shuts down.
She made sure that he was all right and then she gingerly tiptoed out of the ward.
In the dark corridor of her solitary flat she hung up her coat on a stand and went to the kitchen. She put the kettle on the stove and turned on the wireless. Out of it poured yet another Mickey Mouse love song. She groaned and turned it off.
She made herself a cup of tea and plodded down the corridor. Once in her bedroom, she went straight to the cupboard. From the top shelf she took a cardboard box marked Ginevra Molly Weasley. For a full minute she just stared at it and then ripped off the spellotape. She took out numerous photo-albums and an old diary in a leather bind. She quickly discarded it. It wasn't what she was looking for. When she reached the bottom of the box, she stopped and stared at its remaining contents. There, wrapped in a soft tissue, lay a neatly folded shirt made of the finest silk. She buried her face in it and cried softly, her sobs muffled by the smooth fabric.
Ginny…Ginny! A whisper rang across the room.
She leapt to her feet and started pacing the room. She couldn't stand it anymore. She needed to be reassured that she hadn't just dreamed it. And she knew that if she saw that picture of him in Bletchley's drawer, she would be able to believe again. That decided, she disapparated to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
The ground-floor was empty, when she apparated there. On the prowl, she reached the fourth floor. The soap-suds above her head shimmered slightly. She put her hand on the door-knob and turned it slowly. The ward was quiet, save for the rhythmic breathing of its occupants.
She knew that Miles' picture was in the drawer, among his things. Very carefully she opened the drawer of his bed-side table and rummaged through it. She just got hold of the picture, when its owner grabbed her arm. His grip was surprisingly strong for someone who was heavily wounded. She gasped.
"What do you think you're doing?" he grumbled.