Hurt Loves

Hurt Loves

Chapter 5

Aravaeya

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I will say it once more. I am not making money from this. I have enough of my own, so don’t think that I’m writing this for profit. The characters belong to JK Rowling, but the plot is ALL MINE!

And now, onto the story!

By the way, the song that follows is the first verse, chorus, and last chorus of a song that I felt was appropriate for this story, Hero, by Enrique Inglesias.

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Would you dance if asked to dance

Would you run and never look back

Would you cry if you saw me crying

Would you save my soul tonight

Would you tremble if I touched your lips

Would you laugh, oh please tell me this

Would you die for the one you love

Hold me in your arms tonight

I can be your hero baby

I can kiss away the pain

I will stand by you forever

You can take my breath away

I can be your hero

I can kiss away the pain

I will stand by you forever

You can take my breath away

You can take my breath away

I can be your hero

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“Is it so hard to ask you to continue the legacy that I have started? To uphold the family name? Our reputation? I have been preparing for your entry into my Master’s circle from the day that you were born! The least you can do is show that you are grateful for all of the preparations that I’ve made!” Lucius snarls as his belt comes down hard on Draco’s chest. Draco cries out in pain as the metal buckle meets his form with a sickening ‘crack’, and I feel sure that the force behind the swing was enough to cause more broken bones. I arouse from my shocked state as it happens again, Draco’s hiss of pain even louder and more pronounced.

An anger like I’ve never before felt swells inside me, and I can feel myself shaking in unsuppressed rage as I stalk across the room towards the duo, still hidden under my cloak. I trip over a piece of cutlery lying on the floor and make an extra large thump as my other foot lands on the ground, but Lucius is to caught up in his yelling to hear it.

But Draco does. At the sound, he visibly stiffens and looks up, anxiety clearly painted across his face. The look on his faces tells me that he knows I’m there. He watches in realization as I lift a large plate off of the table and get ready to throw it at his father. He cannot see me, but he knows that I’m there, hidden under the cloak, and about to strike his father. He can feel me. He motions wildly, bringing his hand across his throat and shaking his head vigorously, and in between the grimaces of pain that flash across his face every few seconds when the belt strikes him once more, I see him pleading with his eyes – pleading me to put the plate down.

I place the plate on the table once more and Draco relaxes a little, only to be struck once more as his father continues his tirade. I tiptoe over to the edge of the rug that Lucius is standing on, and with all my might, I pull it, causing him to stagger back into the table, impaling his hand with a particularly sharp fork. The string of curses that issues forth from his mouth are enough to make even my brothers cringe, and I wince at the force of them. But is has done the job, his attentions are no longer focused on Draco.

Lucius pulls the fork out of his hand,  glances around  as if to see who pulled the rug, and turns back to his son, blood dripping from his wounded appendage. “You will be at the manor in two weeks time. I hope that you shall have changed your mind by then.” Lucius spits at an unflinching but cowering Draco one last time before storming out of the room.

Tears begin to stream down my face as Draco succumbs to the pain of his injuries, collapsing to the floor as if he were giving up, preparing to die. I lower the cloak, and he looks at me with complete and utter agony etched across his bruised face.

“Ginny.”

It is just my name that he says, as if ripped from his throat, but it is so raw, so broken sounding that it pulls my heart to pieces. My stubborn resolve to resist him, which has taken me the whole week to build up, crumples in a single instant, crashing down to let my emotions come bursting forth. I rush to him, sobbing as if the pain were mine, and I lift his head and cradle it in my lap, rocking backwards and forwards gently.

“You shouldn’t have seen that,” he whispers, reaching up to touch my face, groaning harshly as he pulls his arm in the wrong direction.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come, Draco,” I whisper hoarsely. I gently rise to my feet and pull him up along with me, careful to make sure that I don’t put pressure on his ribcage. I help him to the bed, desperately trying to keep myself under control, keep my emotions in check.

I watch as he sinks slowly back into the soft comfort of the feather duvet, gasping as a broken bone in his upper arm moves suddenly. I bring my hand up to his face and cradle his cheek with my palm, turning his face so that he can look into my eyes. I can’t even remember what my reasons were for cutting off our contact anymore. He just looks so helpless, so full of need, lying there in front of me, broken, hurt, his face bruised and his eyes bright with unshed tears.

“I thought that you promised that I wouldn’t ever have to help you again,” I whisper, the conversation in the hall that started all of this springing to mind.

“What can I say, I just had to see you again,” he murmurs, his mouth turning up at the corners slightly.

I choke on my tears, and cover my eyes for a second as more tears come. “That’s not funny, Draco.”

“I know,” he whispers, reaching out to touch my cheek, although I can see that it hurts him a lot, “I’m sorry, Ginny.”

“No, Draco,” I say as I link my fingers with his. “I’m sorry that it took me this long to come back.”

“Why, Ginny?” he asks, and I can hear that raw, hurt sound creeping back into his voice once more.

I shake my head vehemently, and squeeze his hand as gently as possible. “Not now, Draco. Let me fix you first.”

I get up slowly and make my way to the bathroom to gather up the ointments and other salves that I will need to repair his damaged body. He watches me the whole time, his eyes rarely blinking, giving me a plain view into the soul that is hidden behind those piercing silver orbs.

His black t-shirt clings to his body, matted with his blood and my tears. I know that I am not going to be able to take it off without causing him a lot of unnecessary pain, so I go to his writing desk and retrieve a pair of scissors.

He weakly holds out a hand to stop me as I bring the scissors towards him.

“What are you doing, Ginny?” His voice is hoarse and quiet. His words sound strained, as if he is having immense trouble trying to get the words out over an enormous lump in the back of his throat. He looks scared, as if he doesn’t quite trust me with something that could so easily be used as a weapon against him.

“I can’t take your t-shirt off, Draco, I would hurt you to much,” I reply, looking up at his face and abandoning all thoughts of cutting for a second. His face relaxes immediately, and I can see in his eyes that he feels guilty for doubting my intentions even if just for a second. I smile slightly at him to let him know that I’m not angry, and the shame disappears from his face.

“But this is my good t-shirt,” he rasps. I smile weakly, knowing that this was his way of trying to cheer me up, to lighten the desolate mood that has unsurprisingly fallen between us.

“You’ve got plenty more where this one came from,” I say, and I start to snip away at the piece of soft material. I gently cut all the way up and over his breastbone, and then across the collar bone and then carefully down each sleeve, careful not to agitate his body to much in the process. I gently pull the pieces away from his body one by one until he is left without  a shirt on, giving me clear view of all of the new marks upon his skin.

I set to work mending his mangled body, as I did before, silent, but with little trickles of salty tears still making their way down my face to drip on his bare chest.

His arms are dotted with large patches of angry welts and bruises that are steadily turning black, purple, green, and an ugly yellow. Under the mass of colors I can just barely see the pure unblemished skin that I had so recently restored to perfection. My heart feels as if it is being squeezed particularly hard as I survey the damage, making it hard to breathe without choking. I gently pick up his left arm and bite my lip as he winces in pain. His wrist is broken. Again. Another surge of anger courses through my body at the thought of it. I feel as if I could kill Lucius Malfoy with my bare hands if given the chance. I wish that I could creep up behind him with my invisibility cloak on and lodge a knife right in the center of his back. To watch him scream in pain would not even begin to make up to me the pain that he has caused Draco and myself. It was because of him that I opened the Chamber in my first year, and that scarred my soul for the longest time.

I move my way up the length of his arm, gently rubbing slave onto bruise after bruise, quickly losing count. He doesn’t say anything, but watches my face the entire time, as he did before, causing the hairs on my arms and neck to stand on end. I don’t know how to deal with being under this constant scrutiny, and I know exactly why he’s looking at me. He wants answers to why I didn’t come, to why I abandoned him after leading him on. Answers that I would rather not give. I attempt to shrug off the feelings of guilt and move around the other side of the bed, his eyes following me the whole way, and begin to minister to his right arm, which, if anything, looks twice as bad as the left. His lower arm is broken, and twisted in a way that can only be described as extremely painful looking. It makes me feel queasy just looking at it. I place the salve down on the bed, bit my lip, and take his arm carefully into my fingers.

He gasps loudly as I begin to realign the bones, and his eyes fill with tears almost instantaneously. I steel myself against his reactions, knowing that I am doing what is best for him, and continue, anxiously trying to ignore the sobs that I can hear him desperately struggling to keep down. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, his arm is straight once more, and I cover it in the salve for the bruises and wrap it, casting a charm upon it to keep it in the same place.

When I finally move to work on his chest after attending to all of the wounds on his arms, I realize that the salve that I have been using to soothe and heal the bruises is completely used up. To late I realize that my face  must display some of my worry, because Draco reaches out and touches my hand gently.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. I purse my lips grimily and hold up the empty jar for him to see. Comprehension dawns in his eyes and he glances down to survey the rest of his bruised body. His lips form a small ‘oh’ shape before he relaxes back into the pillows, looking defeated.

“That was the last container I had,” he whispers, letting his eyes drift shut in exhaustion and surrender.

“Where did you get it?” I ask him. “I can get more.”

“I stole it from Snape’s storeroom,” he admits. I sigh in grim acceptance and rise off of the bed. “Where are you going?”

I turn to look at him, and I am sure that my face is displaying a look of utter disbelief. “To Snape’s storeroom of course.”

“Ginny, no!” he exclaims firmly, desperately trying to push himself up into a sitting position with his least injured arm. “You can’t just go marching into Snape’s storeroom! If you get caught, you’re through! You’ll be expelled!”

“Draco, if I leave the rest of those bruises and broken bones, they’ll never heal properly, and you’ll be in pain for the rest of your life. I have to get some more salve,” I say, gently pushing him back onto the bed. “And besides, I have Harry’s invisibility cloak to protect me, I won’t get caught.”

He looks worried, but does not say anything to me as I rise off of the bed once more. I retrieve Harry’s cloak from the place that I left it on the floor and for the first time since I entered the suite of rooms, I realize how devastated they are. Furniture is everywhere, and everything is broken or overturned. I hold out my wand and repair the things closest to me with a small swish of the piece of wood. I put the furniture back in their places, and straighten the rug that I pulled so that his room is neat once more.

I slip the cloak around me so that I disappear from Draco’s view and turn to face him. Although I know he can’t see me, his eyes are staring at the place that I am standing. It’s as if he can see through the barrier of the cloak.

“Good luck,” he whispers, and with that, I leave the room.

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I quietly slip from corridor to corridor, silently making my way past teachers that are strolling the quiet school, on watch for disobedient students like me, out of bed and ready to cause trouble. Without Harry’s cloak, I wouldn’t have made it one hundred feet from Draco’s room. I need to send Harry a thank you of some sort for letting me use his cloak.

Finally, after what seems like ten teachers and two hours later, although it has been a mere ten minutes, I find myself standing outside the door of Snape’s Potions room. I pull out my wand and whisper, “Alohamora.”

The door swings open, squeaking slightly, and I slip inside of the dark, damp, and empty room. I flit through the desks, quickly making my way up to the door of Snape’s storeroom. I whisper, “Alohamora,” once more, and make my way into the inner sanctum of Snape’s kingdom. Tens upon hundreds of glass bottles line the circular room upon floor to ceiling shelves which cover every available section of  wall. The sheer amount of potions and specimens kept in this room overwhelms me, and I honestly have no idea where to start. I glance at the labels of the ones on one of the shelves on the portion of wall that is to the left of the door. Aberatinas Potion, Abverthun Salve, Accanteas Potion... Alphabetical order! Of course! I quickly move over to the other side of the door and move backwards, Z, Y, X, W, V,U, T, S, R… Ruvellium Potion, Rucunthis Potion, almost there, Rosiatha Salve. Yes! My heart leaps as I see three small jars of Rosiatha sitting innocently on the shelf. I snatch one, and then, on second though, the second in the line, pulling the third one to the front in attempt to hide the empty spaces I’ve created. I  pocket the two jars of the salve that I’ve taken, and pull the cloak back firmly over my head. I creep back out of the room, closing and locking the office door behind me. I turn and sneak through the maze of desks once more when something makes me stand still.

“Potter!” a voice whispers furiously. I peek over my shoulder and see Snape appear out of the shadows in the corner of the room. I feel my heart start pounding rapidly in my chest, and I am sure that Professor Snape can hear it, sure that he can see me despite the invisibility cloak. I turn and practically run towards the door, my footsteps echoing across the stone floor, Professor Snape’s close behind. My foot catches on the leg of a table in the last row and I fall to the floor, my ankle throbbing painfully.

“Potter!” Snape cries, launching towards where he knows I am – the table moved when I fell. I scramble out of the way and pull myself painfully to my feet as Snape crawls along the ground, his long fingers snatching the air perilously close to where I was lying just a moment before. I run for the door once more, and I can hear Snape launch to his feet once more, hot on my trail. “Potter! This is the end!”

I can feel my professor’s breath close to my neck, and I can hear the venom in his voice. I open the classroom door, and feel freedom calling my name when I feel Snape’s arm close around my neck pinning me to his side in a very unpleasant way. My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach and tears begin to stream silently down my face. This is it. The end of my career at Hogwarts. The end of my future as a healer. The end of Draco. My heart flip-flops at the thought of the poor boy, lying in his room, in pain, waiting for me to return with the medicine.

“This is the end of your stay here, Potter,” Snape rasps in my ear, making me shiver against him. “I will make sure that you are expelled for this.”

My eyes close in grim defeat as through my cloak I watch Snape’s other hand rise to my head. I feel him get hold of the opening of the cloak, and rip it off, as if in slow motion.

“Miss Weasley?!?!” he roars in utter surprise, and my tears come flowing out of me, and I begin to sob, choking on them, realizing what a sorry mess I must present to my teacher. “Where is Potter?”

“It’s not Harry, sir!” I choke out around my tears. I dare to open my eyes and turn to get a glimpse of his furious face. He releases me, the cloak remaining in his hand.

“What is the meaning of this, Miss Weasley,” he asks, chest rising and falling rapidly as if he is trying to keep a storm that is threatening to escape locked inside. I know that he has a bit of a soft spot for me, as I am one of his best students, but I don’t think that that will get me out of this.

I stare at him stupidly, unsure of what to say.

“Empty your pockets, Miss Weasley,” he orders, his voice hard, his face unyielding.

Without any other options except running, which I know will get me in even more trouble, I empty the pockets of my robes, letting the two jars of Rosiatha fall out into my trembling hands. I offer them to him, mute, and scared.

He takes them from my hands, his eyes only leaving my face to glimpse at the labels. At the sight of them, his face relaxes just a fraction.

“Are you hurt, Miss Weasley?” he asks, his voice a touch softer than before.

I shake my head, and I see his face tense once more.

“Why do you have these, may I ask?”

“I, uh, I-I took them for a friend,” I stutter out, scared beyond belief at the sight of my angry potions teacher. “A, a Slytherin friend, sir…”

He studies me silently for about twenty seconds before something akin to understanding dawns upon his face.. “You wouldn’t happen to know who Mr. Malfoy’s guardian angel is, by any chance, do you?”

I swallow painfully, and nervously shift on my feet, unsure of how to answer his question.

“Follow me,” he commands, and still clutching the cloak, he starts to walk the path out of the dungeons. I scamper behind him as best I can, finding it extremely difficult owing to my throbbing ankle, in an effort to catch up with his exceptionally long strides. The pain is almost more than I can stand, and I clench my fists hard as tears of pain stream down my face.

I follow in silence, knowing that unnecessary talk will get me into trouble, but I desperately want to know where we are going, and what will happen to me. I realize, after a minute or two, that he is taking me along the path that I came down. I allow a sliver of hope to creep into my soul. Maybe he won’t take me to Dumbledore, maybe I won’t be expelled!

We come to a halt in front of the familiar portrait, and Snape looks at me expectantly, and after a tense moment, I realize that he is waiting for the password.

“Buttercup,” I whisper, and as usual, the portrait and it’s section of the wall swing open to allow us entrance.

“Ginny!” Draco exclaims, relief coursing through his voice as I appear inside his room. The look upon his face makes me feel as if all of the trouble of being caught was completely worth it. His face then freezes and his eyes widen as Professor Snape steps into the room behind me.

Draco looks for a second as if I have betrayed him, but then his face goes blank, and he sinks down into his bed as much as possible, pulling the corner of his duvet over him in what I suppose is an attempt to hide his near nakedness which Snape seems to be noticing, a smug smile flitting across his face.

“Well, well, well,” he sneers at Draco, glancing from his Slytherin to me and back again. “Isn’t this just a cozy little setup, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco is silent, and his face visibly hardens at the words of his Head of House. I turn to Snape, my fury showing in the glare that has set itself upon my face. Snape’s face softens a little when he glances at mine, and he looks slightly repentant.

“I caught Miss Weasley leaving my classroom with these,” Snape says, holding up the two jars of Rosiatha for Draco to see. “Next time your angel,” His voice cracks and he looks at me with raised eyebrows, “gets the idea into her head to sneak round the castle stealing potions from her professors, take better care of her.”

My eyes widen in shock, as do Draco’s, and Snape smirks at the two of us before dropping the invisibility cloak on the floor, shoving the jars of salve into my hands, and taking his leave.

Silence pervades the room for a minute, neither of us knowing where to look or what to say, but the pain in my ankle becomes so much that I have to steel myself against the pain and hobble the last ten feet to his bed before throwing myself onto it next to him.

“Ginny?” his voice is hesitant, curious, and worried at the same time. “What happened to you?”

I take a couple of deep breaths and straighten myself out on the bed, exhaustion beginning to take over me. I put one of the jars of salve in my hands on the nightstand next to the bed, and then sit up slowly, ignoring my ankle, so that I can finish attending to Draco’s much more urgent injuries.

I kneel next to him so that I can better access his chest, and I bite my lip in an effort to stifle a gasp as a I roll my ankle particularly painfully

“You’re hurt,” he says, his voice soft, attempting to soothe my frazzled nerves.

“It’s nothing bad. Just hold still so I can finish, Draco,” I order, pushing him back onto the bed. I’m tired and all I want to do now is finish this so that I can sleep.

“What did you do, Ginny?” he persists, pushing my hands away from him.

“It’s nothing, okay!” I exclaim, glaring at him, and slapping salve onto his chest harder than necessary. He is silent and his face becomes blank, and I immediately sorry for letting my irritation get the best of me. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just my ankle, I twisted it in the Potions room.”

“Does it hurt?” he asks, and I look at him in disbelief as I continue to attend to his injuries.

“Of course it hurts, but not as much as these, I’m sure.”

He smiles weakly and we are silent as I finish charming and wrapping his chest to aid the three broken ribs. I sit back on my unhurt ankle and bite my lip in embarrassment as I survey the rest of his body.

He glances down at his torso and realizes why my face is becoming flushed. He lets out a big breath and looks at me, with an impish grin playing about his lips. “Well, let’s get on with it, then.”

My eyes widen in surprise at his acceptance of the situation, and then move back down his torso to the line of his boxers. I take in a big breath and gently pull down the left side of his remaining piece of clothing as far as I dare so that I can attend to the bruises previously hidden. I apply the salve, swallowing hard when he shivers as my fingers brush perilously close to previously uncharted areas. I move over to the other side and repeat my actions, forcing my eyes to stay on the bruises when I have to reveal a little more than I would have liked. To give Draco some credit, when I glanced up at his face after rearranging his boxer, he did look quite embarrassed as well.

“You’re finished,” I whisper, placing the cap back on the jar of salve and placing in on the nightstand, reaching over him to do so.

As I moved back across him to my original position, he lifted his head up slightly to brush my lips in passing. I freeze above him, his lips still on mine, and after swallowing painfully, I continue moving back, away from him.

“Ginny?” he asks, hurt apparent in his voice as well as on his pale face.

I shake my head, unable to meet his eyes. The reasons for postponing a relationship between us that I spent all week developing begin to creep back into my head. “Not now, Draco. We need to talk first, and I’m to tired for that now.”

“Are you-” his voice quavers slightly, an I hear him swallow, “Are you leaving again?”

I glance at his face, and my resolve almost breaks as I see the fear peeking through his mask of uncaring.

“I, uh, I was going to-” I sigh and look back into his eyes before glancing at the sofa that I spent my first night on. “I’ll stay on the sofa tonight.”

He nods slowly, and with great effort, tries to slip underneath the duvet on his bed. I reach over and try to help him, but he holds up his hand in protest. Right, I see how it is. He’s going to go all silent on me because I won’t share his bed.

I stomp off the bed towards the sofa, and immediately regret my rash actions when excruciating pain rockets through my body. I choke back the tears and hobble to the sofa, easing myself down onto it.

Draco dims the lights without a word, and, after admitting that I probably deserve the treatment that I’m receiving, I lie back onto the sofa, covering myself with my robes.

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I wake up late on Saturday morning to find myself covered with the thick top green and silver comforter from Draco’s bed and two pillows cradling my head. I smile to myself, and regret it almost immediately as my head begins to pound unbearably with the effort. I remember my ankle and reach down underneath the cover to feel it and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise as I feel it wrapped and dressed.

“Glad to see you’re awake, Gin-bug,” I hear a voice say. I sit up in shock and look at the bed. Draco is still lying fast asleep. Slowly I turn my head and see none other than Harry ensconced in Draco’s cushy brown leather arm chair. My jaw drops open at the sight of him here in Draco’s room.

“W-what are you doing here?” I choke out, still barely able to wrap my pounding brain around the concept of him being here.

“The Marauder’s Map showed that you were still here, and I thought that I would come and check up on you. I saw you get caught by Snape last night when I was searching for Ron on it, and I wanted to know if you were okay,” he says, smiling winningly at me. My heart warms towards him, and a I look at the duvet and pillows and think of my ankle.

“Did you do this?” I ask motioning towards the bedding.

He shakes his head in surprise. “No, you were like that when I got here a couple of minutes ago.”

My heart skips a beat as the realization that Draco gave me the bedding and dressed my ankle sinks in. I smile slightly and fight not to let my emotions show on my face. “How did you get in here?”

He smiles and shakes his head. “I have my ways, Gin.” He pauses and lets his eyes drift towards the bed. I watch him do so, knowing instinctively what’s coming next, and I am right. “What happened to him, Ginny? He’s a mess.”

“You must swear not to tell anyone, Harry,” I say, my voice conveying my earnestness.

He nods, his eyes glancing towards Draco’s sleeping form quickly once more before riveting themselves on my face. “I want to know everything.”

“No interruptions, okay?” I say, and he nods. I start my narrative with the previous Friday evening, when I had been sneaking out to Hermione’s and saved Draco from being caught by Filch and Mrs. Norris. I tell Harry how I had helped him inside, and how I had spent the weekend healing him. I tell Harry everything, about how he kissed me (Harry looks at Draco’s bed, absolutely furious by this point, before I calm him down), and how I made myself sick with confusion. I tell him about my week, about how I spent it in states of agonizing indecision, and finally, I tell him about the previous night.

“I came here, hidden under your cloak, and when I came inside, Lucius Malfoy was here,” I say, dredging up the horrible memories of the night before.

Harry’s face hardens at the mention of Lucius Malfoy, and I know that his mind is recalling the horrible incident in the Chamber of Secrets.

“He was, uh-” I let out a big breath, trying to stay calm enough to say what I am trying to, and finally, I give it a try. “He was beating Draco with his belt because Draco won’t join the Death Eaters.”

All anger that had previously been displayed on Harry’s face because of earlier parts of my story disappears as I relate the latest part. Something akin to compassion and sympathy begins to creep onto it as the cruelty of my story sinks in. “He was beating him?”

I nod, tears threatening to fall once more. Harry is immediately at my side, his arms around me as I regain my composure.

“Wow,” he says after a couple of minutes. “I actually feel sorry for the bastard.”

I laugh softly, glad that Harry’s not angry at the whole ‘we kissed’ thing.

“I’m glad that he has you to take care of him, Gin-bug,” Harry whispers, stroking my hair gently, “Maybe he has changed for the better.”

We sit in silence for a minute before Harry speaks once more. “You like him, don’t you, Gin?”

I bite my lip and don’t answer. Harry touches my chin, turning it and lowering his head so that he is looking in my eyes. “Don’t you?”

I nod, looking over towards the bed where I see Draco stirring slightly. When I reply, my voice is barely even a whisper. “Yeah.”

Damn it feels good to admit that to someone!

Harry smiles at me, pulling me towards him and resting his chin on the top of my head. “If you like him, then he must be deserving of it, Gin. I’ve never known you to like someone who didn’t deserve your affections. I won’t be angry with you if, you know…”

His voice trails off, and I flash him a happy smile, thankful for his words of encouragement, knowing how hard it must be for him to voice them when he and Draco have had so many spats in the past. It feels better to have Harry’s permission for – whatever this thing is that Draco and have/are having.

“Shit!” Draco mumbles, and my eyes meet Harry’s. He drops a kiss on my forehead, and quickly gets up and slips along the walls and out of the room before Draco sits up. “Shit that hurts!”

“Draco?” I whisper, hobbling over to the bed.

“Ginny?” he asks, voice tinted with hope at my presence near him. He eases his way up into a sitting position and looks at me standing beside the bed.

“Did you give me the cover and the pillows, Draco?” I ask, biting my lip in shyness, “And my ankle?”

He nods, eyes not meeting mine, and I know that he is unsure of what my reaction will be, given my actions the previous night. I clamber up onto the bed next to him, his eyes suddenly following my every move, and after smoothing his hair out of his face, I gently lower my lips to his in a gentle, tender kiss. He is at first shocked at my willingness to initiate something which I shied away from the previous night, but quickly recovers and brings his bandaged hand up to caress my face.

I allow my hands to wind their way around his neck as I kiss him again, and again, feeling the different ways my lips can slant against his own. I feel his tongue gently brush against my lower lip, and I gasp at the sensation, pulling back slightly to look into his darkened eyes before opening my mouth slightly to him. He gently suckles my lower lip and I whimper as his tongue pushes into my mouth for the first time. My hands involuntarily begin to explore the bare expanse of his back and as he pushes deeper inside me, they snake back up and my fingers bury themselves in his mass of silky blonde hair, reveling in the freedom to do so.

He moves to bring his arms up around my back and gasps as the movement jolts the bones. He pulls away as he bites his lip to wait for the pain to pass. I laugh softly and kiss his closed eyelids before making my way down his face, dropping feather light kisses across his cheeks and his delicate nose before placing one on each corner of his mouth.

“Maybe it’s best that you’re injured,” I whisper, sitting back on my uninjured leg.

His eyes open and he looks at me with puzzled eyes. “What? I can’t kiss you the way I want and you think that’s a good thing?”

“I’m not crazy!” I assure him, laughing.

He gives me a look that clearly says ‘prove it’.

“I just mean that we’ve got a lot of issues to work through, and we can’t go too fast,” I explain, and he nods, though I can tell it’s reluctantly.

There’s a knock on the chamber door, and I look at Draco, puzzled. He looks worried, but then a voice comes from the other side, “Ginny, it’s me, Harry!”

I roll my eyes, and without looking at Draco, I make my way to the door. I push it open and Harry steps inside, his astute eyes immediately traveling over Draco and myself. He smirks slightly and I slap his wrist. He strides inside, where Draco is watching him extremely suspiciously.

“Glad to see that you’re doing better, Draco,” Harry says, in an admirable attempt to be civil towards Draco. I see Draco’s demeanor relax, and he actually smiles slightly at Harry, who turns to me. “Hermione wants you. Says that you’re supposed to be going to a special Transfiguration class for Animagus training or something.”

I groan as I remember the special class that Hermione and I signed up for with McGonagall. I glance at the clock and see that I’m due there in ten minutes. I turn to Harry, “Will you turn around and wait by the door?”

He smirks once more, but does as I ask, and I make my way to the bed where Draco is watching me. I climb up next to him and lower my head to his ear. “I’ll be back tonight. I swear.”

I look into his silver eyes and he nods, smiling at me. “Go.”

I smile back and lower my lips to his for one last kiss before slipping out of the room with Harry.

~~)~*~(~~

Please Review. This is my first Draco/Ginny fic, and, like any other author, reviews are what make it all worth it!