-1Chapter 3

"Holy shit!" Harry exclaimed when he was thrown back after his broom touched the mist.

Just then, a loud cracking noise filled the air and Harry saw a brilliant blast of light in the sky.

"Ferret? Wake up!" Ginny kicked Draco's unconscious body. He stayed absolutely still. She bent down to examine him, but stopped herself and backed away a few feet.

"I'm not falling for this, I know you're going to pop up and punch me or something as soon as I come close enough!" she eyed him suspiciously, waiting for him to jump up and insult her.

Nothing happened.

She picked up a rock, if she threw it at him and he didn't move, then something must be really wrong with him. Nobody can be that good of an actor.

The rock landed on his leg before rolling back onto the ground. He was still lying there, Ginny approached him slowly.

"This is your last chance, if you do something stupid like tripping me as soon as I'm close enough, I swear I'll kill you!" she was still half expecting him to sit up and call her 'Weaselette.'

At first glance, he seemed to be asleep and perfectly fine. His arm was draped over his forehead. She looked a little closer and saw that there was a trickle of red liquid seeping through the sleeve of the arm on his forehead. She moved his arm slowly away from his forehead as if afraid he was going to wake up. She winced when she saw the ugly gash that was probably from the rock she threw at him.

Now what was she supposed to do? She couldn't just leave him here, since it was partially her fault that he was lying here unconscious. If she just left him there, he might get eaten by wild animals or something. Even though she hated him, it would still be terrible to have that on her conscience.

Finally letting the better side of her win the inner battle, she examined his wound. Blood was flowing out. Normally, she would use a simple healing charm, but her wand seemed to not be working, she suddenly remembered something that Hermione said a few summers ago.

"I just completed this course…"

What course did she complete?

"It's going to be very useful in the future…"

What would be useful in the future?

"…first aid…"

What in the world was first aid?

"…to stop bleeding…"

Yes! This was it! She needed to figure out how to stop the bleeding on his head.

"…remember 'RED', Rest, Elevate, Direct Pressure…"

Right, rest, elevate, direct pressure. What the hell did it mean? He's lying down already! She was starting to feel jittery as more blood flowed out of Draco's wound.

Calm down Weasley! You lived through being Fred and George's joke product test subjects for fifteen years, just a ferret and some bleeding, suck it up!

She took a deep breath and clenched her trembling hands into a fist. Elevate, isn't that contradicting the first instruction? She can't leave him lying on the ground and lift him up at the same time. On the other hand, lying on the ground doesn't seem to be stopping his bleeding, maybe somehow lifting his six feet and two inches of bulky muscle off the ground with her bare hands would miraculously heal his gash.

Ginny placed her hands on Draco's underarms and tried to tug him upwards, his head lolled to the side and his body flopped back down to the ground with a thud. She stood beside him, panting.

"Damn you, ferret! Go on a diet or something!" she tried, again to lift him up, but only succeeded in dragging him a few inches in the dirt.

'Rest' and 'Elevate' apparently are not working, she still had her last chance: direct pressure. She looked at his gash in disgust. If this was Harry, Hermione, or her brothers, it wouldn't be that gross. This was Draco Malfoy, almost the sworn enemy of the Weasley family, and she was going to have to save his oh-so-very important life or something by laying her hands on his so-called 'Pure' Wizarding blood. She eyed his pitiful unconscious body with disgust. How can Crabbe and Goyle stand being around him? Maybe she should just let him die or something and save those two gorillas from their body guard duties.

Damn, just do it Weasley! You don't want to get thrown into Azkaban for committing murder.

She reached forward slowly and placed the her palm on his forehead, she felt nauseous when she felt the warm liquid from underneath.

Stop being so squeamish, its not like you've never seen blood before.

She pressed more firmly on the wound and heart a squelching sound as her skin rubbed against his. Ginny could literally feel her pulse against his as she nervously waited for his bleeding to stop. Her wrist was getting stiff and she couldn't feel her fingers anymore. She bent her neck and looked at the space between his head and her hand. She couldn't feel blood coming out of it anymore. She removed her hand and grimaced at the sight of Draco's blood caked on her hand.

Ginny realized that she should probably use some sort of makeshift bandage to tie around his head so dirt wouldn't get in the wound and infect it. She remembered one time Charlie scraped his knee and didn't want to tell their mother because he didn't want to get it scrubbed. Three days later, it was oozing yellow pus. Not a pretty sight. On the other hand, it would hide more of Malfoy's ugly face, which would be a definite improvement in this case. But in order to clean his cut, she would need water and she was stuck in the middle of nowhere and not even a puddle was in sight. Her throat felt parched and her mouth was like a desert. She needed a drink badly.

She kicked a nearby rock in frustration. The day had started out alright, but was now steadily getting worse. First, she got sexually assaulted by Malfoy's stupid ferret lips, then she had to play healer to stop his bleeding, now she had to hunt for water.

Ginny trudged off reluctantly, only putting a half-hearted attempt at trying to remember where Draco was. If she could find him after getting water, fine. If not, too bad. She was getting sick of this life saving thing. It wasn't like he was going to appreciate it after he woke up anyways. He would probably bash her head against a boulder in a furious attempt at revenge. His father was a Death Eater with so many connections that Aurors were probably rescuing him as she walked and Healers from St. Mungos were probably using their best potions to revive his evil mind.

Ginny seemed to be going in circles, tree after tree and rock after rock looked exactly the same. This was hopeless. She picked up another rock.

I seriously need to stop this, this rock throwing fetish is going to get me in trouble some day.

She threw the rock using all her energy at a bush surrounded by a thick mass of trees. It sailed past the bush and landed with a splashing sound. Splashing. Rock hitting dirt doesn't make any splashing noises, however, a rock hitting water will. Ginny's parched throat and sandpaper lips urged her feet and legs forward as fast as they possibly can. In less than a quarter of a minute, she saw the most beautiful sight in the world: water.

It wasn't a wide river or anything, just a medium sized stream that was wide enough to wade in, but too small for any type of raft to travel in it without getting stuck. The water looked relatively clean, she could see the bottom, which seemed to be sand and mud. But she was so thirsty that she didn't really care. She scooped up the water with her hands and felt it rush down her throat and cool it delightfully. She immediately felt energized, awake, and cool. She was about to lounge around the area, but she remembered something: Malfoy, probably still unconscious, lying in the shade in the middle of nowhere.

She seriously should leave him there. He deserved to suffer, he's just leeching off the world by living. He probably never did anything for anyone in his sixteen years of existence. The only possible contribution that Malfoy had probably made was to add misery and suffering to everyone else.

Ginny glanced up abruptly in the middle of her murderous thoughts. Here she was, thinking of reasons why Malfoy doesn't deserve to be helped, yet she was dipping her sleeves in the water to soak it up and carry it back to him. She slapped her forehead hard in frustration.

Why do I have to be so softhearted?

Draco Malfoy laid in the dirt floor straining to keep his eyes open. His eyelids were in pain. His head was in pain. He felt like someone had taken a club and battered it repeatedly against his skull. His mouth felt like glue and his throat was on fire. All he could see was a blur of blue and white.

Am I dead? If I am, how come the view is great, but I feel crappy? I hope the devil comes soon to collect my soul or something.

Suddenly, another color came into sight. It was read. He could only see a fuzzy image of a pair of lips. Luscious and strawberry lips moving, coming closer to him. The lips moved almost directly over his eyes, he felt something nice and cool on his forehead and then some pressure. His head immediately felt better. Then, he felt cool liquid being splashed onto his face.

Maybe its not the devil, its an angel. An angel with damn sexy lips.

The lips moved until he felt them touching his, he felt his thirst subside. For a few seconds, his vision seemed to have cleared and he saw a mane of luxurious red hair that tickled his nose when it brushed against it. He could now see that the lips were on a beautiful oval face, complete with glassy caramel eyes.

Must be my lucky day, an angel's got the hots for me today. I knew it! Nobody can resist my Malfoy charms.

He waited for the angel to kiss him again, but his vision began to blur again and he once again felt like he was floating and floating on a fluffy cloud…