Draco Malfoy skulked along the halls of St. Mungo's, his hood over his face so people wouldn't recognise him. He waited in line behind a sobbing mother demanding to see her son and a man with a fish tank stuck to the side of his head. He was getting impatient.
"Finally" he thought when it was his turn to talk to the receptionist at the desk, but as he opened his mouth he wished he were somewhere else. He stood there biting his lip, thinking of what to say.
"Yes?" the receptionist raised an eyebrow. Draco pulled his hood further over his eyes.
"Erm… could you tell me which ward Ginny Weasley is in please?" he muttered softly.
"Sorry, what was that?" she tilted her ear towards him.
"Could you tell me which ward Ginny Weasley is in?" he muttered, a shade louder.
"What?"
He repeated it, conscious of the other people queuing. He hoped none of them recognised him. A Malfoy asking to see a Weasley? It was unheard of. Plus he was supposed to be in hiding. He had turned his eyes temporarily black, and his precious hair a ghastly brown for the occasion (well, he thought it was ghastly. But then again, he thought every hair colour was ghastly except blonde). But he hadn't done anything to his face.
"Jenny Wellesley? We don't have a Jenny Wellesley staying."
Draco lost his temper. "Weasley! Ginny Weasley! Where is she?" he snapped.
"Ginny Weasley? Well why didn't you say?" and she gave him directions to Ginny's ward.
Grumbling, he stomped up the stairs, wondering whether all Healers were stupid and ignorant or whether he was just unlucky.
He could see his fringe turning white-blonde again. Oh well, no-one was paying him any attention anyway, but he tucked his fringe out of sight just in case. One of the most distinguishable features of a Malfoy was his perfect hair.
Only two days had passed since Ginny had been hospitalised, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. What was the matter with him? It was as though he cared about what happened to her.
He had, as usual, kept out of the way as much as possible, but the Burrow felt strangely empty without the Weasel Queen around.
Draco pondered this, and came up with a conclusion: if he just went to see that she was ok, perhaps his mind would be at ease. After all, he did save her. If something happened to her while in hospital, it would have all been to waste.
Draco came to a corner. Ah, she was along this corridor somewhere. He hoped he could find her soon. He didn't like staying in hospitals too long, they smelt unpleasant and were uncomfortable.
These were private rooms, and Draco walked along, glancing through the windows until he saw a girl with long red hair sitting up and reading.
Right, she was fine; his most expensive cloak had not been bloodied up in vain. He stalked off, but stopped. Was that really her? It could be any red head. He'd better go and check.
Yes, it was definitely her. She had new bandages around her arm. It looked as though the wound had not healed yet.
He turned to go again, thinking that two glances hadn't really been worth all that fuss. He casually walked passed her window again, when she looked up.
"Urk!" he dived out of sight and pressed his back against the wall. She had seen him! Oh brilliant, how was he supposed to explain that?
He put his fingers on the windowsill and peeped in through the window, only showing his eyes. Ginny was staring back at him, looking bewildered.
He ducked out of sight again, wringing his hands hysterically. She wasn't supposed to have seen him!
"Well, now she has I suppose I can't hide. They may lead to questions" he thought, and strutted past the window, sticking his chin out.
She peered at him over the edge of her book, and they stared at each other for a while.
"Do something!" Draco's brain screamed at him. Not knowing what else to do, he did the most childish, un-Malfoyish thing: he stuck out his tongue.
She blinked, and for a moment looked as though she would get up and cause him some personal damage, but she slowly lowered her book and poked a small pink tongue at him.
He raised his eyebrows and smirked. She mimicked him, exaggerating her features ludicrously. He waggled his eyebrows, and pulled a stupid face, until he noticed a shrivelled elderly woman staring up at him as though he were mad.
"Dear?" she asked tentatively "would you like me to help you back to your ward?"
Draco had to suppress a scowl: the woman thought he was a mental patient here!
"No thank you" he sniffed "I am not a patient here." The woman nodded and shuffled away, giving him a sympathetic glance on her way out.
Sneering, Draco turned back to the window. Ginny was looking at him from behind her book, but Draco could tell from the shape of her eyes that she was laughing.
He grinned, and, without thinking, opened the door.
He froze as he stepped inside. Ginny had stopped laughing and was staring at him, shocked.
"What did I do that for?" he thought wearily, and closed the door. Ginny lowered her book.
"Erm… hi" he said breathlessly. She was staring at him, daring him to say something else. Gathering himself, he stood straight. "I, ah, just came to see whether… whether you were ok."
Ginny blinked. "Oh, well, yes, I'm on the mend, thank you."
"Erm, good, I suppose."
He just stood in awkward silence for a while, fidgeting with his watch. Oh, why did he leave the sanctuary of the Burrow? Even if it was a smelly weasel hovel which he hated, it was better than standing in a hospital doorway, not having anything to say and scared to leave so soon as it would seem rude.
Draco wondered when he'd started caring about being rude to Weasels.
"You can sit down, you know" said Ginny softly. "I don't bite."
As he couldn't think of a good reason not to, he strolled over to the chair facing her bed and sat lightly on the very edge. It was very uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable as the silence that settled between again.
"So… Ginny" he croaked, hoping to pull a conversation out of thin air. "Is that short for anything?"
"Ginevra" she replied stiffly.
Draco let a small smile grace his features. Ginevra… he liked it. But the Ginevra in question was looking a little dishevelled. "You don't like it?"
"It's not that I don't like it, it's just… never used."
"Can I use it?" he said before he could stop himself. She raised an eyebrow, and he turned away to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. What was the matter with him today? Normally he was very good at controlling his tongue.
"Aren't I the Weasel Queen?" asked Ginny coldly. Draco turned to face her again.
"Do you want to be?"
"Well, no."
"Well, then, Ginevra." They smirked at each other for a while, than drifted back into that awful, suffocating silence. Perhaps he should leave now?
"Um, your cloak is on the chair behind you" Ginny muttered.
"My-? Oh yeah" he saw the midnight blue travelling cloak hanging from the chair. He didn't particularly want to touch it.
"It's been washed."
Carefully, Draco picked it up between his thumb and forefinger, as though it was diseased or a dead animal. Inspecting it closely, he saw there were no traces of blood (or tomato soup) and it smelt fresh.
He sat back down, clutching it at arms length.
"It's, um, very soft" said Ginny in a small voice.
"What? Oh yeah, the lining's 100% velvet."
"Madame Malkin's?"
"Twillfit and Tattings."
"Oh, Twillfit and Tattings, right."
He hated small talk.
They were once again silent, and they both watched as a fly buzzed around the room, dancing about in a jerky pattern, until it got itself stuck in a web and a fat, brown spider crawled over to it hungrily.
"What a stupid fly" thought Draco. Ginny's arm twitched, as though she was going to free the stupid fly, but she remained cross legged in her bed.
"What took you so long to do it?" she asked suddenly.
"Do what?" Draco mumbled, but he knew exactly what she was going to say.
"Save me. You almost left me there." She was peering at him through her hazel eyes, unblinking. Draco had the uncomfortable feeling that his head was a window and she could see his thoughts like actions.
"Well, I mean, I did save you, didn't I? I didn't just let you drop and die, did I? It's not something I usually do…"
"No... You don't seem to care about other people's lives much, do you?"
Draco was getting angry. "What, did you want to die? Did you want me to leave you?"
"Oh, no, I'm very grateful" she whispered softly, still not blinking as her eyes scanned his face "I just didn't think you were the saving- people type, that's all."
"Well, usually I'm not" he sniffed.
"No… you seem more of the person- who- needs- to- be- saved type, don't you?"
Draco opened his mouth angrily, but he saw that she was neither gloating nor smirking. Instead she was looking at him inquisitively, searching his eyes for the truth about his personality.
"Perhaps you should leave" said Draco coldly.
Ginny blinked at last. "This is my room!"
"Oh… right. Well, I, um, I knew that!" cursing silently Draco got up to leave, hearing giggles.
"Oh, wait, Draco, you forgot your cloak." More giggles as he stomped over to snatch up the garment and stumbled on its trailing hem. When he got to the door, he turned to glare at her, but she was smiling good- naturedly at him. And he couldn't help but smirk back.
As he walked along the corridor it struck him what she'd said. She'd called him Draco again.
*
Ginny was discharged from hospital two days later, and arrived back at the Burrow to a small party, which Draco did not join in.
He decided that the Weasley girl was far more trouble than she was worth, and that he would keep away from her from now on.
But his plan didn't last long, as, after two days of not talking to anyone, he found himself unable to sleep.
His discomfort was not due to any deep emotional searching, however, but to hunger. He had been offended when he overheard the Weasel Twins badmouthing the wizarding aristocracy, and was in such a bad mood he didn't eat lunch or dinner.
He turned in his bed (which was much smaller than what he was used to). His insides ached from lack of food and his silvery eyes snapped open.
"It's no good" he thought, and reached for his dressing gown. "Humph, if I was still in Malfoy Manor, I wouldn't have to creep around the house like a criminal. I'd just get the house-elves to make me something."
Almost silently, the only sound being the swish of his cloak, he snuck out the door, treading lightly on the creaky wooden floor.
The Weasleys wouldn't mind if he just had a sandwich, some fruit, some biscuits, a cake, a glass of milk… not that much really. And if they did, ha ha, he didn't care. He had learnt from a young age that ignoring his conscience was the best way to get what he wanted.
He crept into the kitchen, shivering slightly as his bare feet grazed the cold floor, and didn't notice the dark silhouette of a small figure. He headed to the pantry.
"Malfoy?" Ginny switched the light on. Draco squinted through the sudden light, but her vibrant red hair stood out, so he couldn't draw his eyes from her. "Are you stealing food?"
"…No…" he felt like a naughty school child as he drew his hands away from the pantry door. She raised an eyebrow, and then sighed.
"You should have eaten your dinner, stupid." She reached up on the top cupboard and stole him a slice of carrot cake. He was ravenous, but with muttered thanks he nibbled it politely with a fork. Ginny hoisted herself onto the work surface and watched him eat, him avoiding her eye.
"I don't think I ever thanked you for saving my life." Draco's eyes flickered to hers for a second, but then he stared at his half- finished cake again. "And apologised for, you know… getting us both chucked off a roof." She tittered nervously, but it died away in her throat.
Draco shrugged. "Wasn't your fault" he mumbled "my obnoxious aunt pushed us off."
"Yeah, that must be pretty… crummy."
Draco shrugged again. "She doesn't have a conscience. She just likes killing people."
Ginny sighed and stared out the window, and Draco looked up at her, taking her in now that she wasn't looking. His eyes scanned her features and body as hers scanned the crescent moon. Pansy was right: she was, without a doubt, good looking. She had a figure most women would be jealous of, for starters. Her face was naturally beautiful, not ton-of-make-up beautiful like most of the Slytherin girls: bright hazel eyes, small, curvy nose, and though Draco thought pale, undisturbed skin was prettier, her freckles seemed to complement her. Unlike most of her brothers and father, whose hair was an orangey- red, her hair was a deep, intense blood-red, a colour she only shared with Bill and her mother. Draco vaguely wondered why she didn't wear much green; he thought it would look good on her.
She looked back at him, and he averted his eyes immediately, staring back at his now-finished cake. "Wanna play chess?" she asked suddenly.
Draco blinked. "Why do you want to play chess with me?"
"Well, who else am I going to play with? The ghoul in the attic? Unless, you're scared of losing." She jeered playfully.
"Oh, yeah, I get it, this is the bit where I'm supposed to say "oooh, lets play, I'm not going to lose!"" he sneered at her "well I'm not! Where's that board?"
Grinning, Ginny took the chess board from the shelf. "I'm being white!"
*
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