Forbidden

A/N: I really don't know how this sounds, but I hope you'll like it. My first attempt at Ginny/Draco, please forgive for it.

Disclaimer: Not mine, and… *sob* never will be….

Forbidden

Reeling from the effects of her latest dizzy spell, Ginny dropped her face to her palms and put her head between her knees. But the action was a mistake, and she found herself soon fighting the urge to hurl that quickly built up in her throat. Almost immediately sensing her distress though, Hermione began gently massaging her lower back. It didn't do much good, but the cool, soothing touch temporarily allowed her to take a breath… and release a soft groan.

In the silence of her private room at St Mungo's, it very nearly echoed, startling her slightly. She heard Hermione smile nervously behind her, and then felt her hand go to her clammy forehead to check her temperature. A moment later she sighed, “Where is that Healer? When we first got here they wouldn't leave, no deadly Dark magic damage and suddenly we're not that interesting?”

Ginny tried to laugh, but it sounded more like another groan. She was too sick to really try no matter how she wanted to, how much she needed to.

Hermione was the only person who still spoke to her nowadays. The only person who tried to understand why she was the way she was. The only person who didn't try to explain why she resisted the Order rescue from Draco just a few days before as “Stockholm Syndrome” or whatever it was. And she was probably the only person who would know what to do if what she thought was going on was true.

No one else would probably want to speak to her.

Ron, Harry, her brothers, the Aurors, the Order, even her parents, they barely spoke to her now as it was. Hermione had to force Harry and Ron just to show up after they learned the reasons for this visit. Her behaviour had earned her this, a range of reactions that went from outright shunning to subtle pity. She had gone and meddled in what was forbidden, and it had earned her this.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened and the Healer entered. At once Hermione helped her sit upright, this time draping an arm round her back and allowing her head to loll unto her shoulder. This was the worst of her spells, but eventually it would fade away… it always did, but for now from her new position she at least could have a good look at her doctor.

A tall, plain-faced man who was probably around Mr Weasley's age, he bore no expression as he came in with the file that would tell her future. She had not dared to look at him while he examined her before, but now she could see nothing else. Not the clinical, sparse décor of the room around her, not Hermione's sudden stiffening of her spine, not even when the door opened slightly and Harry stepped in quietly with Ron behind him.

The Healer barely seemed to notice anything else either, for he simply began as if they were alone, “She's pregnant.”

“What?” Ron exclaimed, shocked and instantly angry.

Harry just stared at the Healer wide-eyed, clearly surprised and confused. Hermione still, was calmest of all, and said, “I thought so… how… how long?”

“I'd have to say pretty early on… her illness is just morning sickness, I'm guessing it's because it's so bad that that's why you all came here in a hurry,” the Healer replied. “If I'd have to guess it could be a little more than two weeks… so, congratulations are in order… (he turned to Harry) sir…?”

Harry regained his senses just as he did though, and quickly shook his head. The Healer's brow furrowed, and after a moment to look around at the others, said, “Oh… well then… I'll set to work getting you some potions for the morning sickness, it won't stop it entirely but it will alleviate it somewhat. If you'll excuse me….”

He left as suddenly as he had come and the moment he was gone, Ginny dropped back unto her bed and shut her eyes tight. Hermione lay back with her, and brought her other arm up to shift away her long red hair. Ginny gave a weak smile, and said softly, “Thank you.” A double entendre and she meant it for both.

She had meddled in what was forbidden, and this is what she got.

Ron though, had finally recovered from his shock, but was still angry. He sprung from his place at the door and nearly pounced on them, raging, “He did this to you, didn't he? He's lucky they killed him before I got there! He did this to you, didn't he?”

“Ron!” scolded Hermione, and pushed him away from them.

Harry quickly came over to hold him off, but he shoved him off, went to the door and kicked it, twice. Ginny cringed at the sound, but murmured, “Yes… Draco's… Draco's the f-father….”

That was the wrong thing to say.

At once Ron was back from the door and yelling, “THE FATHER! THE FATHER? You're making it sound like this is something natural! No wonder you've been so sick! Draco Malfoy is… you're carrying a Malfoy, Ginny. He's hated us, he's hated you since the first day he saw us and you're lying there being all calm about it! We know he took you for a reason, and this is what it is….”

Harry took hold of his arm again and tried to force him away as Ginny sought refuge in Hermione's arms. Only Hermione understood, only Hermione stood by her, only Hermione cared….

And then Hermione spoke, “Yelling isn't going to change anything, Ron.”

He scoffed, punched the wall and came away bleeding. He swore immediately, loudly, repeatedly, until he finally ran out of words and sank heavily into a chair near the bed. At a glance he had the appearance of a man defeated, but Ron always took things too close to heart. Harry and Hermione could only look at him sadly, and Ginny didn't try.

Instead she began softly, “He took me because he was desperate… I know that… but this… we—”

He came to life again just to cut her off, “Not this again, you think you fell in love with him because of what he did to you! He kept you prisoner for eight days! He threatened your life, our lives, and then he maybe did one or two things that were kind! He made you depend on him, he-he brainwashed you! He's a Malfoy, Ginny, he believed we were blood traitors and deserved to be killed but when he realised he was dying he took you so he could… so that… his family line wouldn't die…. He did this to you to make sure that his family had an heir!”

Hermione looked at him as if she couldn't believe what she had just heard, and to his credit, so did Harry. But Ginny took it even worse and snapped, “That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Do you actually believe that he pre-planned all of this? How is that possible when we were only together for eight days? How did he know what was going to happen, I didn't know this was going to happen!”

“Ginny, calm down, you're not well… think about the baby…” said Hermione, once again massaging her back trying to soothe her.

But in a room of hotheads that was another wrong thing to say.

“'Think about the baby'? Hermione, are you forgetting whose baby it is?” asked Ron, his ears now turning pink in his fury.

“No!” she snapped, slowly beginning to lose her battle to maintain her own composure. “I haven't, and apparently you're not going to let me either… but Ron, she shouldn't be under stress regardless, it's not good for the baby, but it also isn't for her.”

He exhaled heavily, sharply, then and walked to the window. After a moment more to calm down, he asked, “What are we going to do now?”

It was forbidden, and this was the price she was going to pay.

Ginny looked over to him from beside Hermione and said, “I'm going to have a baby… regardless. And you… you all are going to go out there and be praised and worshipped and thanked, as you deserve, for what you did.”

“A Malfoy, you're going to have a Malfoy,” muttered Ron, contemptuously and ignoring her.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence in my parenting skills,” said Ginny, testily.

Ron just looked away from them out the window.

A long awkward silence descended, where they all just sat musing, and then Harry spoke up.

“Well, if you're going to do that… you should know we're going to be right there with you, all the way. This child might be Malfoy's, but we're going to make sure that it gets everything it needs. You're not going to have to worry about anything—”

“Are you serious?” Ron cut him off, spinning away from the window, stunned.

Harry hastily defended himself, “Listen, I hated Malfoy as much as you did, probably more, but I know you're not just going to abandon your sister because of this! So what if it's Malfoy's baby, he's not here to influence it is he?”

At this Ginny decided that she had had enough and forced herself to sit up. Alarmed, Hermione tried to stop her, but Ginny was sick of hearing the ongoing argument. They didn't understand… they didn't want to understand… they all just thought that she had gone mad.

In eight days she had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy. As crazy as it was, it was the truth. But that kind of thing was forbidden, and they were never going to believe otherwise.

Her morning sickness, as it was, was beginning to fade. If she could get out into the hall she would probably find her Healer on her own and the potion he was bringing. She never got to the door though, for just then it swung open and the Healer was back. The argument around her, already dissipating when she began to stand, ended abruptly.

The Healer looked up in surprise when he saw her standing, and said, “Miss Weasley… well then, here is your potion, it should last for a week. I've made some appointments for you at a smaller clinic in Diagon Alley, as you understand; we don't deal with such things here and… well we're swamped with the war….”

Ginny made to take the bottle but her hands shook so much that Hermione came over and took it for her. Then she steered her back to the bed and said, “Thank you, we'll take it from here.”

“It's been a pleasure, feel free to name the child after me… heh-heh… or not…. Now, uh, I've got some paperwork to do, if you'll excuse me…” and he was gone again.

When they were sure of it, Hermione turned to Ron and Harry and snapped, “Can't you two do this somewhere else?”

“Like where, Hermione? Outside in the halls? In the street? In front of Rita Skeeter and every journalist from here to Timbuktu?” demanded Ron, heatedly.

“No, how about at home, at the Burrow, where there may not be as many spies? Do you have to yell? Do you really want everyone to know…? I guessed as much, so be quiet!” she commanded.

He glowered at her for a moment and then returned to the window. Harry though, had to ask, “Speaking of the Burrow… how… are we going to tell Mrs Weasley?”

No one could quite look at him.

What she had done was forbidden, and she was ever going to pay for it.

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