1. memories

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.

Classification: Drama / Mystery

Pairing: D/G

Rating: R

Author’s notes: this is the first chapter of a very long story. If you find this in any way confusing, please feel free to let me know. You can do this by leaving a review (which is much appreciated) or by writing to me at ardelis_fari@yahoo.com. Also, if you find any glaring grammar/spelling mistakes or discrepancies with canon, do tell me. Cheers!

Summary: after Draco disappears one night on the scene of a battle, Ginny decides to flee, leaving her family and friends in the dark as to her whereabouts. Everyone is certain that Draco Malfoy is dead, but Ginny believes that one day he would come back to her.

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CHAPTER ONE

~ Memories ~

It's so curious: one can resist tears and 'behave' very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer... and everything collapses.

(Sidonie Gabrielle Colette)

“But where is Draco?” she asked Tonks, when she reached the safety of the Burrow.

Tonks’ face was distorted with a grimace of pain and she averted her eyes.

Ginny blanched. “Where is he?” she asked again in a thick voice.

Tonks looked up and Ginny saw her frightened eyes filled with tears. “He didn’t come back,” she uttered at last. “The stupid boy burst right in the middle of it! He knew the house would collapse any minute, but he still ran inside!”

Ginny’s lips quivered as she was trying to hold back the tears. “You didn’t…” she broke off.

“We searched every inch of the wreckage, but couldn’t find him anywhere.” She sniffed. “I’m so sorry, Ginny!”

“No, Tonks!” she stopped her with a warning gesture. “No, he’s not dead. He’ll come back. He promised that he would always come back.”

“Miss Putois?” a high-pitched voice brought her back from the reverie. “Miss? I left the file of the new patient on your desk.”

Ginny turned away from the window and looked at the nurse. “Oh, thank you, Prudence. I’ll look at it later.”

The nurse nodded and left. Ginny rubbed her eyes tiredly and sighed. She felt absolutely exhausted. She glanced at her watch and decided that she could use a brake. She checked the rows of beds to make sure everything was all right and then swiftly left the ward.

As she stepped into the narrow corridor, she had to adjust to the dim light of the crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling. She walked past the numerous portraits whose canvasses, if not empty, were filled with moving silhouettes of witches and wizards. Finally, she reached the end of the corridor and pushed the double doors open. On them a card in a brass holder read: Healer-in-Charge: Petra Greyhawk. Trainee Healer: Ginevra Putois.

She decided to have a cup of tea in the tearoom on the fifth floor. As she climbed the stairs, another throng of famous Healers greeted her with a smile.

In the tearoom she found a few other witches and wizards in lime-green robes just like hers, with an emblem of a crossed wand and bone embroidered on their chests. She bought a steamy cup of chamomile tea and took a seat at her favourite table in the corner. Slowly, she sipped her tea, letting her sore muscles relax. On the table next to her she spotted a copy of Witch Weekly and she reached for it curiously. She had a busy day and she figured that a few moments of rest while leafing through a magazine would see her to the end of her shift.

Skipping a few pages of gossip and recipes of rejuvenation potions, she came upon something that made her start. At the top of the page was a colourful picture of her brother Bill and his wife Fleur, holding their two-year-old daughter Manuelle. The picture was taken outside a Quidditch stadium in Ellis Moor, and all three of them were sporting bright orange scarves of The Chudley Cannons team. Bill’s hair was even longer than she remembered and Fleur smiled bewitchingly into the camera. The little chubby girl in her arms was absolutely adorable. Timidly, Ginny traced the blond curls of her niece who she had never seen before.

A short article beside it was captioned: A representative of London Gringotts Bank attends the first game of the season. Greedily, she pierced her eyes into the scanty words. Apparently Gringotts was sponsoring the Quidditch games. She read it till the end, but, to her disappointment, it said nothing about her brother.

She repressed the tears that were threatening to roll down her cheeks. This was the first time in three years that she had seen a familiar and dear face. It happened so unexpectedly that it took her by surprise. Vivid memories that were until now kept at bay, flooded her mind.

She spent the last three years in Paris, studying to be a Healer. She came to London a few months ago and had just been taken on the staff of St Mungo’s as a Trainee Healer.

After what happened one ghastly night three years ago, all she wanted was to cut herself off from the wizarding world. And she had been on the run ever since. She even changed her last name. She realized that running away like that was not only cowardly, but also very cruel towards her family and friends. Her initial excuse was that she needed some time to be alone, and she expected everyone to understand. And they did. But as the time went by, she grew accustomed to her new way of life where nothing and no one reminded her of the past. She was terribly afraid of going back and facing her home that would bring back the memories of that night. In all of those three years she had never as much as sent a message to her parents, to let them know that she was all right. She realized full well that it was heartless and selfish, and it made her suffer. Torn, between the desire to see her family again and fear of their unshakable conviction that her beloved fiancé was dead, she dragged out a miserable existence in a wizarding hospital of the City of Lights.

She sometimes laughed bitterly at the irony of it all. She was a very able Healer, but her wound was the only one she couldn’t fix. There was no potion or spell potent enough to heal the pain that still lingered in her soul. She wasn’t sure though why she left France. Perhaps, coming back to London might be a big step towards recovery. It seemed that maybe soon she would pluck up her courage and go see her family. But until then she just waited. For what, she didn’t quite know herself. Maybe for an accidental encounter with someone she knew. There was a big chance of her running into a member of her family or a friend, after all, the wizarding London was a small place. But the fate was merciful to her so far.

Though once, in Paris, she literally ran into Gabrielle, Fleur’s little sister. But the girl didn’t recognize her. Well, Ginny had changed a lot in the past three years. Her luxuriant ginger curls were now always put up in a neat bun and her face was never lit with a smile. She was very quiet and was a total opposite of the girl who ‘never shuts up’ as Ron once put it. She, herself, rarely looked in the mirror to see that.

Wiping the tears off her eyes, she carefully rolled the magazine and put it in the pocket of her robes. Then she got up and left the tearoom that was almost deserted by now, forgetting her unfinished tea.

A couple of hours later she was on the ground floor of St Mungo’s. After saying ‘good night’ to her colleagues, she disapparated to her small, lonely flat in the centre of London. For an umpteenth time this month she considered taking on a cat that would keep her company and give her an illusion that someone actually waited for her to come home.

She mumbled ‘lumos’ and her wand illuminated the narrow corridor. Dropping off her cloak and bag, she proceeded to the kitchen. After a satiating supper she considered listening to the wireless for a while, but then decided against it. Instead she put on her pyjamas and went straight to bed. Moments later she was already in the land of Nod.

* * *

The next morning she apparated into the department store called Purge & Dowse Ltd, where St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was hidden from the prying Muggle eyes. The reception area was buzzing with sick witches and wizards. The staff was run off their feet and she spent two hours helping them accommodate the arriving patients. She walked up and down the hall, asking them about their ailments and jotting down the data on her clipboard.

One of the newcomers, a rickety old wizard, clad in a rain-sodden canary-yellow ulster and galoshes, claimed that something attacked him in the mews and bit his hand. His fingers were swollen and turning deep purple. She could clearly see the black bite-marks. In all the years of work as a Healer, she had never seen a more off-putting sight. Hastily, she sent him on his way to the first floor, where she assured him that the Healers on the CREATURE-INDUCED INJURIES ward would help him fix it.

Then there was a girl who fell off the broom, while playing Quidditch, and broke her leg. With great care she transported her to the ARTEFACT ACCIDENTS corridor, using the mobilicorpus spell.

They all kept her running back and forth, but she didn’t mind much. She loved her job more than anything. Besides, it distracted her from the unwelcome memories that were resurrected by the yesterday’s picture in the magazine. And she was grateful for that.

Soon, the flow of people receded and she proceeded with her normal routine. She was helping a jinxed wizard, whose nose was disfigured beyond recognition, when the Healer-in-Charge of the ward bustled in. She brought a dimply girl with her, whose strawberry-blond hair was done up in two thick plaits.

“Ginny, this is Mabel Evergreen. She’s a new Trainee Healer,” Miss Greyhawk announced hastily. “I’m rather busy at the moment and I wondered if you could show her around.”

“Of course, I’d be delighted,” Ginny nodded with a smile.

“Good, that’s settled then,” she said, relieved.

“I’m so excited to finally get to work here!” Mabel said enthusiastically, when the Healer-in-Charge left. “Have you been here long?”

“I’ve been working on this ward for only a few months,” she said, smiling at Mabel’s childish excitement. “I used to work in Paris before that.”

“In Paris?” she asked, looking at her with a mixture of interest and awe in her eyes. “That must have been incredible!”

“Yes, it was,” Ginny said quietly, as the picture of her brother and his family flashed before her eyes. “But why don’t we have a look around the hospital?” she suggested, changing the topic.

They’ve been on all six floors of St Mungo’s, where Ginny told Mabel the story of the hospital and showed her every ward and corridor. And the more they saw, the more thrilled Mabel looked.

“Oh how clever!” she remarked every time they came across a poster which bore an apothegm like: Venienti occurite morbo (prevent the illness before it begins) or Valetudo bonum optimum (health is the greatest good).

“Did you know that she invented the Blood Replenishing Potion?” she asked when they passed the portrait of Astrid Heidelberg. The witch on the canvas blushed slightly at her words.

On the ground floor they stopped and sat down on the rickety chairs. Mabel was still twittering agitatedly and it reminded Ginny so much of her old self.

“Oh look!” Mabel exclaimed suddenly, picking up a copy of The Daily Prophet. Ginny looked at it apprehensively. After yesterday’s picture in the magazine she avoided reading any newspapers for fear of seeing someone she knew.

‘THE BUZZ AROUND THE CHESS CHAMPIONSHIP’ read the headline on the front page of The Daily Prophet.

There was a picture of a young wizard with a chessboard under his arm, shaking hands with Cornelius Fudge.

She scanned the article: “Witches and wizards from all over the magical world have arrived in London for the upcoming International Chess Championship…Two games will take place today…The England’s avowed champion, Amery Fitzpatrick from Bury St. Edmunds (Suffolk, Great Britain) will be playing against Colum Ryan from Islandmagee (Northern Ireland, Great Britain). And Constantine Mikoneiou from Athens (Greece) will be facing a very strong opponent in the person of Patrick Jones from Wookey Hole (Somerset, Great Britain).”

Well, nothing shocking so far, she thought with relief.

In the local news section a short review of the incident that had taken place last night, caught her eye. “On August the 17^th, just before midnight, the Auror squad signaled some

strange activity near King’s Cross Station in London. The Ministry of Magic hasn’t

issued any statement, but an insider shared with us that this might be very serious. A group of wizards, whose identity is unknown, performed dark magic in full view of Muggles. One of them was heavily wounded and probably hit by a strong spell. Both managed to disapparate before the Aurors caught them. The Ministry of Magic sent Obliviators to perform memory charms on the Muggles who witnessed it.”

How odd and mysterious, she thought. Does it mean that dark wizards are up to something again? With the war ending not so long ago, this was very unsettling news. But she hoped for the best. What was then the point of sacrificing so many innocent lives, if the evil was always on qui vive?

2. A triumph of grief

A/N: I realize that this is a very short chapter, but you’ll just have to forgive me! Btw, if you recognize any of this (motifs, words, etc.), then you must have read my other D/G story You do not know I die…hehe Since people seem to like heart-wrenching kind of stories, I just thought I might pull it off again.

Oh, and please review!!! Even if you think it sucks! Flames are welcome too! Though some constructive criticism would be even more welcome! *hint*

P.S. If my quoting of famous authors bothers anyone, I apologize. I just thought that I needed something that would bring my point across.

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CHAPTER TWO

~ A triumph of grief ~

If it were possible to heal sorrow by weeping and to raise the dead with tears, gold were less prized than grief.

(Sophocles)

“Today is exactly three years since that night,” Tonks said wistfully, passing her hand through her long hair the shade of magenta.

Alastor Moody, who was sitting at the table next to her, growled something incoherent in response. A shadow came over his face and his vivid blue magical eye was spinning in all directions.

He looked around the empty kitchen of the 12 Grimmauld Place. It had a deserted, dingy look and he struggled to recall the last time this place was filled with boisterous witches and wizards. Mrs. Weasley’s apron on the hook by the large fireplace was the only evidence that people actually visited the kitchen.

“Poor little Ginny!” Tonks sniffed as the tears fell down her face. “We should look for her again. I know she’s somewhere out there.”

“We couldn’t find her. She vanished without a trace,” he croaked.

Tonks angrily pounded her fist on the wooden table. “But Moody! Molly and Arthur are so devastated! She must know that! What in the name of Merlin is she doing? This is…this is worse than what Percy had done all those years ago! How could she just leave without a word?!”

“She was just a child. I reckon, she didn’t know how to cope with her loss.”

“No, it’s because of us,” Tonks shook her head. “It’s because we didn’t believe her. You know, she thought he was still alive.”

He sighed. “She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

Another wave of sobs shook her body.

“And that wretched boy was my cousin,” she blubbered. “Did you know?”

Alastor Moody was wringing his bowler hat unmercifully, trying not to break into sobs himself. His grizzled dark grey hair fell on his face, concealing his teary eyes.

“Yes, we were cousins,” Tonks went on. “Of course we never associated with his lot. Mum had never even mentioned her sister’s name, but still, it’s awful what happened to him. He was so young. And dear Ginny loved him so much!”

“Yes, pour chap,” Mad-Eye mumbled and his voice sounded hollow. His scarred face was contorted with emotion.

Tonks cried quietly for a good quarter of an hour, which was a real torture for Moody. Then her sobs finally subsided and she just sat there, staring at the cobwebby, dusty dresser. He wondered if that was a good moment to leave. He didn’t know how to comfort Tonks and he felt very awkward.

“Well,” he growled, getting up, “I’ve got to go. Have a thing or two to say to Kingsley Shacklebolt.”

He paused hesitantly.

“You’ll be all right, won’t you?”

Tonks looked up, blinking her red-rimmed eyes, and nodded.

He looked down at his bowler hat that by now resembled a crumpled rug. He tapped it with his wand and restored it to its original shape. Sparing his last glance at Tonks, he clumped out of the kitchen.

* * *

Not far away from 12 Grimmauld Place, Ginny Putois was standing at the window of her drawing room. Since she had returned to London, she was avoiding public places and as usually was spending the evening at home. It was getting dark outside and the pelting rain added to the gloomy atmosphere. Mesmerized, she watched the heavy, oblong drops slide down the smooth surface of the glass.

It was a challenge not to cry, seeing those tear-like drops. The clock on the wall chimed eleven o’clock. The moment was near. She repeated this masochistic ritual every year since that night. At twelve o’clock, exactly three years ago, Ginny Weasley ceased to be. That moment marked the rest of her life, where she would be waiting and hoping. Her unwavering faith was a monolith of steel that made her live day after day. One might say that her belief that Draco was still alive, was as strong as Luna Lovegood’s belief in Umgubular Slashkilter. And whenever she asked herself why he never tried to find her, she imagined that he had a million of good reasons for that. She’d do anything, but give up the hope and succumb to the reality.

“I want a baby,” she said suddenly one morning when they were having breakfast. She said it so calmly, as if she had just asked him to pass the bread. He looked up, surprised, and stared at her, as if looking for a confirmation that the words he heard were not in his imagination.

“A little boy with blond hair who would look just like you,” she went on.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he replied softly, as he smiled and covered her hand with his. “I’d like us to have a baby too. You can’t imagine just how much I want to start a family, but right now is not a good time. Soon, this will be over,” he admonished, “and then we’ll live a normal life. And we’ll have two children. Or maybe even three.”

“I want a baby.” She repeated stubbornly, “Now.”

In his grey eyes she saw a flicker of sadness and annoyance, and she pulled away her hand. She knew that he wouldn’t agree. But she couldn’t possibly tell him that she’d been having some sense of foreboding for the past few days. More than ever, she really started fearing for his life. But if she told him that, he would only laugh at her silly unfounded fears. What could possibly happen to him? He was invincible. He was Malfoy! And she couldn’t tell him that when he would be gone, she’d still have a little blond boy, as a reminder, who would take his place in her heart.

“All right,” he sighed, giving in unwillingly. “We’ll have a baby.”

And just weeks later his name appeared on the list of those who risked their lives to put an end to the raging war. And Ginny was left alone – without Draco and without a little blond boy.

“Damn you, Draco Malfoy! And damn your self-confidence!”

She let a tear escape and it furrowed its way down her cheek. In the clear moments of her somnambulistic existence she would run out of excuses and start doubting. Whenever that happened she would feel so lost and lonely, and she would cling to her futile hopes with renewed enthusiasm. She simply could not survive without him (even if it only was in her memories). He was everything to her. Without him she felt like a desiccated desert. And yet the time went by.

She sniffed and, reaching into her pocket, took out a small tattered picture. It was taken at Hogwarts, in Draco’s last year. He was wearing his Quidditch robes and a boyish smile played across his face. In his hand he was holding his newest acquisition, Firebolt 3000, and the golden snitch was fluttering in his other hand. He looked happy and proud. Gingerly, she planted a kiss on his beaming face.

“Silly boy,” she whispered. “What have you done with yourself? Why are you hiding from me?”

The boy on the picture flashed a bright smile and she couldn’t help smiling back.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be waiting as long as it takes.”

3. The new patient

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:

17 aug. 18.30

KC St.

DM? Does DM mean Draco Malfoy? And then there is a date – August 17^th. 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.

4. A ray of hope

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize here is mine. It all belongs to JK Rowling.

A/N: well, I’m glad you all liked last chapter and the story in general! I’m afraid I’ll have to tease you a bit more before I give away all the answers. Right now I’m in the middle of exams, so I won’t be updating too often. Unless you ask me nicely, then I might put up a chapter like every day…hehe… If I get a bad grade, I hold you all responsible!

And speaking of Ginny’s last name, MaryB almost got it! But I had a different idea in my mind. Putois actually means ‘ferret’. I thought it would be kinda cool for Ginny to take up that name in the memory of her beloved Draco. But maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all.

P.S. I’m trying to find a compromise here. I thought that not updating at all due to my tight exam schedule would be cruel, so I decided to actually update regularly, but the chapters will be a bit short. Does that sound like a good deal?

Okay, on with the story …

CHAPTER FOUR

~ A ray of hope ~

The heart bowed down by weight of woe to weakest hope will cling.

(Alfred Bunn)

“And if you remember, they wrote about it in the Daily Prophet last week,” Mabel said, taking a bite of her muffin.

Thoughtfully, Ginny stirred her coffee. She tuned in and out of the conversation, but it seemed that Mabel did not notice a thing and probably didn’t even expect her to contribute.

She’d thought about Miles Bletchley’s mystery a good deal. She didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, tossing and turning and thinking. The poignancy of the first thrill somewhat faded now and she began to doubt. Maybe it wasn’t Draco after all. Maybe she was just fooling herself. But she really wanted to believe.

“And you know what, Ginny?”

Lost in her thoughts, she hardly listened to what Mabel was saying.

“What?” she asked, pretending that she followed it all along, though she had absolutely no clue.

“In the paper they said that when the Aurors arrived, they didn’t find anyone. But that’s not entirely true. Kathy, a friend of mine who works for Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee, well, she talked to Arnold Peasegood, the Obliviator who was sent there to take care of those Muggles, and he told her that something wasn’t right with those two wizards that escaped. I mean, one of them was seriously wounded. To apparate you need strength and that bloke was practically unconscious!” She dropped her voice to a low whisper. “They say that the Aurors were actually able to have a look at the other one. The hood of his cloak slipped and they saw his face briefly. They say he was rather young.”

“Oh, really?” Ginny asked, trying to sound interested.

“That’s terribly exciting, isn’t it?” Mabel asked, her face glowing with eagerness. “But I reckon it’s just a rumour, because if they knew what he looked like, they would have found him easily.”

Ginny just nodded, not even remotely fascinated by the story.

She was very agitated, which she found hard to hide. Since morning she avoided that ward for as long as she could. She felt like shaking Miles Bletchley until he regained consciousness and told her everything he knew, every single bit of it. Every time she thought about his useless comatose state, she felt white-hot anger bubble up inside her. She needed some answers!

In the afternoon Ginny and Mabel were sitting in Ginny’s office, looking through some recipes. Ginny was leafing through Arsenius Jigger’s book, the author of Magical Drafts and Potions, when Mabel sighed wistfully.

“Ginny? Do you think I’m a good Healer?” she asked thoughtfully.

Ginny glanced up at her. “Of course you are.”

“It seems to me that Ms. Greyhawk doesn’t think so. She’s been assigning me with these ridiculous tasks. I never get any real work to do!”

“I think she’s just testing you,” Ginny replied absentmindedly.

“But why won’t she give me more serious assignments? Does she think I’m not ready? Why do I have to run off and fetch things instead of helping people? Why is everyone else being treated like a Healer and I’m just doing-?!”

“Will you just keep quiet for one bloody second?!!” Ginny suddenly snapped angrily, interrupting Mabel’s prattle in mid-sentence.

Mabel looked at her, taken aback by this sudden outburst. An expression of mere surprise slowly faded and was now replaced by a hurt look.

“I’m sorry, Ginny,” she murmured in a barely audible voice, her lip slightly quivering.

Ginny looked at Mabel just to see her eyes filling up with tears. Before she could say anything, Mabel got up and ran out of the office.

“Bloody brilliant!” Ginny swore and angrily and threw her copper ink-bottle against the wall. It bounced off and landed on the carpet, spilling its contents.

Why does she keep harping on the same thing – why this and why that? How come she, Ginny, never asks why all she’s got instead of her fiancé is a couple of shirts that had even lost his scent?

For the past days she’d been just a bundle of nerves. She realized that she wasn’t even cross with Mabel, but with Miles Bletchley. And perhaps even with Draco. For why would he torture her so? And they had absolutely no idea, for her patient was lying in his bed like a log and Draco, who hadn’t manifested himself for three years, was quite oblivious to her worries.

She mentally reproached herself for speaking so harsh with the new girl. Draco wouldn’t have liked that. He loved her softness and tenderness. But she pulled herself up sharp. Draco doesn’t care now. Draco is gone.

She muttered ‘Scourgify!’ and swiftly left the office. She looked for Mabel everywhere, until she finally found her in the tearoom. She was sitting there, drinking tea and looking awfully sad. Ginny winced. She had to redress her fault somehow.

“Mabel?” she called out.

She turned around and Ginny saw that her eyes were all red and puffy. She grumbled inwardly, but made herself continue.

“Look I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it that way,” she apologized.

Mabel smiled feebly.

“It’s okay, Ginny. I know you didn’t mean it. You were angry with someone else.”

Ginny started, amazed at her perceptiveness.

“I can tell something is bothering you,” Mabel said. “What’s the matter, Ginny?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” she denied. “Well, there is something, or rather someone who I’m really angry with. But never mind. I’m hoping that this person won’t be a problem anymore,” she said with a mysterious gleam in her eyes. “And I’m sorry again for taking this out on you.”

Mabel smiled and squeezed her hand. “It’s all right.”

When Ginny entered the ward thirty-two later that day, she was greeted with the biggest surprise of her life.

Her patient was fully awake and propped on the pillows. Some colour returned to his face and he didn’t look as ghoulish as the first time she saw him.

“Oh, you’re awake!” she exclaimed. Her heart pounded as she approached his bed.

“How are you feeling this morning?” she asked, scanning the data on her clipboard.

“Never been better. How long have I been here?” he asked, and she realized that it was the first time he spoke.

“A few days. Do you know where you are?”

He looked around. “St Mungo’s, I presume.”

Ginny nodded.

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked curiously.

He paused and then shook his head resolutely.

“You were found not far from here. You were unconscious, but we found some papers in your robes and we were able to identify you.”

“So, he didn’t leave me there to die after all. How noble,” he muttered.

“What?” Ginny asked.

“Nothing,” he said abruptly. “When can I leave this place?”

“Oh, not for another week, that’s for sure. You’ve been badly wounded. You need to heal first.”

“I can’t stay here for this long,” he argued, looking shocked. “I’ve got something important to do!”

“Well, we’ll just see how you do and maybe we can release you earlier,” Ginny relented.

She took off his dressings and attended to his wound that was almost skinning over. He winced when she pulled the bandages too tight.

“Done,” she announced. “And you have to drink this too.”

She put up a cup to his lips. He took a sip and pulled away quickly.

“This tastes like water from the drains,” he whispered hoarsely, with a look of verjuice on his face. “Yes, I’m so very sorry,” Ginny muttered. “It’s a potion of butterbur leaves. It ensures steady recuperation, just what you need right now.”

When he heard that the potion might get him out of that wretched hospital sooner, he obediently swallowed the foul-tasting liquid.

“We put a notice in the paper, but no one came to see you,” Ginny said, trying to get something out of him.

“And no one will,” Bletchley grumbled and turned to face the wall.

Ginny watched him with increasing interest. She was sensible enough not to hope that he would start spilling his secrets any minute. But she just wished she could ask. What was he doing at King’s Cross that night? And did it have anything to do with Draco whose picture he was carrying around? Presumably, he performed some illegal spell and it backfired. Whatever he was doing on the night of

August 17^th, it certainly wasn’t innocent or legal.

She stayed beside his bed until he fell asleep. One of the effects of the butterbur potion was that it induced dreamless sleep. And when he wakes up, she hoped that he would start talking.

And then all of a sudden it dawned on her. Why had it never occurred to her to put two and two together? She looked at the date of his arrival in his file. It all matched – Miles Bletchley had been brought at St Mungo’s on the night of August 17^th! And according to the Daily Prophet the incident at King’s Cross Station took place on the 17^th. Her mind swarmed with ideas, one crazier than the

other. Does DM, 17 aug. 18.30, KC St. mean that Bletchley had a meeting with Draco Malfoy on August 17^th,

at 18.30, somewhere at King’s Cross Station? And then something happened a few hours later. Bletchley was that wizard that Mabel said got seriously wounded! Draco was there too, but he escaped. He must have disapparated with Bletchley and then left him near the hospital!

Ginny grabbed the poster of the bed for fear of fainting. She was certain that she was very close to seeing Draco again. Yes, very soon, after so many years, she would finally see him again!

5. Visions

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.

6. Endlessly

A/N: You don’t know how happy I am to hear that you liked the last chapter! I wasn’t sure whether I should post it at all. This chapter, number six, is going to be the last chapter of this *gripping* detective story. Read and enjoy! And review, of course!

CHAPTER SIX

~ Endlessly ~

Those whom true love has held, it will go on holding.

Seneca

“I’m s-sorry,” she stuttered, yanking away her hand.

She lit her wand and its glow lit up his wan face. He didn’t look angry, just confused.

“Why were you going through my stuff?” he asked again, as he snatched the picture from her.

“Tell me who this is,” she asked, pointing with a trembling finger to the smiling face, obscured by wisps of blond hair.

He did not budge.

“For goodness’s sake, just tell me!” she cried.

“Why?” he asked calmly.

“Because I know this man. I just need to hear that he is alive!”

“He is as alive as you and I.,” he said at last, feeling very uncomfortable under her beseeching stare. “Well, I hope he feels better than I do at the moment.”

“Did he give you this picture?” she asked.

He nodded.

Feeling emboldened by his cooperation, she went on with her queries. “Why did you meet him at King’s Cross Station on the night of August 17^th?”

He goggled at her. “How…?”

“Just answer me,” she interrupted him impatiently.

“He hired me to find someone,” he uttered slowly.

“Who?”

With bated breath she awaited the answer. He was looking for her, wasn’t he? Draco wanted to find her!

“That I can’t tell you,” he shook his head. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

“Erm, have you found that person?” Ginny asked despite his refusal to reveal anything else.

“No,” he replied. “That’s why I’m not too thrilled about staying here for so long.”

“I see,” she nodded and got up from his bed. She threw another glance at the picture.

“What is his name?” she asked, not taking her eyes off it.

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

She nodded and smiled satisfactorily. She knew enough.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “You have no idea how important this is for me. Now you just go back to sleep. I’m really sorry about waking you up.”

With a huge grin plastered to her face, she left the ward and made her way downstairs. On the ground-floor she sank in one of the chairs and sighed happily. It felt so good to have all the questions answered at last. Though she could not fathom why Draco would hire someone like Miles Bletchley to look for her. But then again, he was a former Slytherin student, a former supporter of His Infernal Majesty Lord Voldemort, which means he knew everything and everyone. Yes, that might explain it. But how ironic, she thought, he didn’t find her. On the contrary, she found him and nursed him back to life, all the while having no clue as to the real bond they shared. And if she hadn’t found that picture in his pocket, she would still be clueless and desolate.

Suddenly, she was instinctively aware of someone’s presence in the hall. Without looking around, she knew who it was. She wasn’t intending on letting him go this time. Finally, she would put an end to this game of hide-and-seek. She rushed across the reception area, past the gents loo, nearly overturning a dustbin on her way. In the corridor she spotted him again.

“Draco!” she cried.

He stopped and stood still. Then, slowly, he turned around. No, he wasn’t imagining it. Before him stood a red-haired young woman, clad in the lime-green Healer’s robes.

“Ginny?” he asked in disbelief.

She started to feel faint. She hadn’t heard his voice, his real voice, in three years. Hesitantly, he took a step towards her, and when she didn’t back away, he reached out, and his fingers grazed her cheek. She tried to hold back the tears, but her eyes began to well up and her face twisted in a grimace of pain. She wanted to lash out at him and demand the explanations.

“Have you nothing to say to me?” she asked, her lips trembling.

“I’ve missed you,” he said in a shaky voice.

“Where have you been all these years?” she finally asked the question she so longed to ask. “What was I supposed to think?”

“Did you think I was dead?”

“No,” she shook her head violently, “I always believed that you were alive, that you would come back.”

“Well, I’m finally back.”

“It took you three years?!!” she exclaimed.

“There is a lot I have to tell you,” he said gravely. “Please, let’s sit down.”

They went back to the reception area and Ginny prepared to listen to his confessions.

“Do you remember what happened that night three years ago?” he began.

Ginny snorted. “I would never forget. It was August 19^th, eight days after my twentieth birthday.

Every year on that day I relive everything that happened that night. How Tonks came and told me that you rushed inside that house and that it collapsed, burying you alive under it. How could you do something like that?”

“Well, I guess I thought I was helping out the Order. I saw those Death Eaters escape and I ran after them. I should have guessed that Potter would save the world soon without my pathetic heroic deeds,” he chuckled.

He recalled that night as he lay under the rubble of the house, writhing with pain.

“I don’t know why the house collapsed,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe they wanted to block the way. I tried to get out afterwards, but a piece of a brick hit me on the head and I passed out. What happened next was the most bizarre experience of my life. When I regained consciousness again, I found myself in a small village in the south of France, as I later found out. I had no clue how I got there. I didn’t remember anything. Only my name. The rest of my memory was a clean slate.”

“You had amnesia?” Ginny gasped. “I knew there was a good reason for you to stay away from me.”

Draco smiled ruefully. “I would have come back to you otherwise.”

Ginny stared at him in wonder, as his words began to sink in.

“A few months ago I remembered everything. I went back to England to find you, but you were gone. I’ve heard that you left your family the next day and never came back. You just disappeared. Why did you leave, Ginny?”

“I couldn’t stand it,” Ginny sighed. “They all thought that you died. And they reckoned that they were doing me a favour when they tried to convert me to their belief. I realized that I had enough and I just packed my bags and left without a word.”

“You never went to see them again?” he asked, surprised.

“No, Draco, I was afraid. The Burrow, my family and my friends, they all belonged to the life that I shared with you. And you weren’t there anymore. It was like having a family picture in front of me, where your face was cut out of it.”

“Oh, Ginny!” he exclaimed. “I was afraid that they got you too. Since then I’ve been looking for you everywhere. But I couldn’t find you. I wasn’t even sure you were alive, but I kept searching. I hired the best people!”

“Let me guess,” Ginny laughed mirthfully. “Miles Bletchley?”

He blinked. “You know him?!”

“Oh, I wish I didn’t!” Ginny groaned. “He is the most unpleasant specimen of the human kind!”

“Looks like not all Slytherins turn to goo in your presence,” he smirked.

“Lucky you, eh? Ginny snorted.

“So you work as a Healer?” he asked, examining her robes.

“Yes, and Bletchley happens to be my patient. Less than an hour ago he confessed that you had hired him to find me.”

“He did?”

“Yes, he gave me hope. But the rest is still a mystery to me.”

“Well, I asked him to search for you, as I felt that you were in England. I gave him your name, your age, everything. The first time I told him about you was during our first meeting, at King’s Cross Station.”

“But then something went wrong,” Ginny interrupted him.

“You know about that too?” Draco gaped at her.

“I’ve read about it in the Daily Prophet,” she replied. “But, please, do go on!”

“We were recognized by some Dark Wizards, who were probably trying to avenge their slain leader. Bletchley was hit pretty badly and I had nothing to do, but drop him off near the hospital.”

Draco just confirmed the conclusions she had drawn before and all pieces of the puzzle were finally coming together.

“And where were you all this time?” he asked.

“You wouldn’t believe this,” she smiled, “but I was in France. A strange coincidence, isn’t it?”

She told him about her life in Aulnay-sous-Bois, a suburb of Paris, where they apprenticed her as a beginning Healer. And about her small flat, which she rented, when she came back to England.

“And lately it’s become very hard for me to live the way I did,” she admitted. “One day I saw a picture of Bill, Fleur and their daughter Manuelle in the Daily Prophet. That day all my carefully constructed walls came crushing down. All these years I ignored my family and I managed to convince myself that it was okay, and suddenly there they were again and I felt guilty. And I wanted to see them again. And then I saw your picture among Bletchley’s things. I didn’t know what to think. He was unconscious and I didn’t know whether you were alive or not. Then I read that article in the paper about the accident at King’s Cross and gradually I figured out that those two wizards were you and him. So, I just waited for something to happen. You have no idea how badly I wanted to hear the answers. The worst was when I started to see you everywhere. You were in my dreams, here at my work, on the streets. I heard your voice and I was going mad.”

“You saw me when I came here?” Draco was surprised again. “But why didn’t you do anything?”

“I did!” Ginny cried out indignantly. “But every time you managed to disappear before I got closer to you. I didn’t know what to make of it. I hoped that maybe you came to see me, not Miles.”

“Oh, Ginny,” he whispered, cupping her face. “I had no idea that you were working here. I came to see Miles, to make sure that he was okay.”

Draco was still in a daze. He couldn’t believe that he saw Ginny, and especially because he never expected to see her at all. Slowly, he bent down to kiss her.

Until now Ginny hadn’t even dared to touch him. And when his lips brushed against hers, she was afraid that that was the moment where she would wake up and realize that it was just another dream. But it wasn’t. She hugged him with all her might, running her fingers through his platinum-blond hair. Then he broke the kiss and they just stayed like that, in a tight embrace.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she sniffed.

“I wonder why Miles never told me that he actually met you,” Draco asked suddenly. “He must have known that it was you, I mean, I told him how you looked.”

“I changed my name,” she laughed through tears.

For the first time he looked at her badge and burst out laughing. “Putois???”

Seeing his expression, Ginny laughed too.

Draco shook his head, still smiling. “You are one of a kind, Ginny Weasley.”

“I think Bletchley suspected something, though,” she said. “He started giving me very odd looks. I hoped that he would crack then and tell me everything he knew. But he didn’t tell me anything until tonight.”

“Why tonight?”

“Because I tried to steal your picture,” she laughed.

“You what?”

Ginny shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure that you were real. I would have put it back anyway.”

“I’ll give you millions of those when we get to my house,” he promised and kissed her soundly on the lips.

“Where do you live?” she asked curiously.

“In the Manor, but no one knows,” he grinned. “I didn’t want to attract any attention.”

She smiled knowingly. She could tell him a lot about hiding.

“And, erm, do you live alone?” he asked quietly.

“Of course, you silly boy!” she slapped him on the shoulder. “You don’t think I could just forget what we had together and start a new relationship with someone else?”

“I love you, Ginny Weasley,” he whispered.

“And I love you. I will always love you. Endlessly,” she said, claiming his mouth.

He parted her lips with his tong and she moaned against his mouth. She couldn’t wait to get used to his hugs and kisses again. She craved for that perfect future that she had planned three years ago to finally begin. Suddenly, he drew away from her and looked deep into her brown eyes.

“How about you become the real Mrs. Ferret?” he asked seriously.

“It’s about time, Mr. Ferret!” she giggled.

THE END