A/N: Well, I'm not dead, nor is this story abandoned. The past few years have been a lot, and this story kind of fell to the side. But social isolation has offered me the time to edit and (almost) finish this, so I am reposting it. The first eight chapters have been edited, so scenes have either been expanded or pruned, but it's mostly the same. However, large chunks of chapter nine forward have been rewritten (along with my originally planned ending).
I will be posting this for the first time on AO3 (Under the same penname: Tiny Q) as I repost here, so please go there to check the tags if you are worried about content/triggers/etc. (Their tagging system is amazing!). The original, for the time being, is still up on FIA (Fire and Ice Archive), but once I've caught up with myself (chapter 11), I'll set about updating it, then continuing to update there as I go.
If you are an old reader, thank you for coming back and for your patience. I have appreciated and valued all of the kind comments I have received over these past years. If you are new, welcome! I hope you will all enjoy this newer, shinier version of Somewhere I Belong.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using the characters and world of Harry Potter, which was created and is owned by J.K. Rowling. This story is of my own invention and is not to be considered part of J.K Rowling's canon. This work is intended for entertainment only and no profit is being made from this story.
—o—
Chapter 1
Soundtrack: "Bad Blood" by Bastille
—o—
"I'm fine, really," Ginny Weasley insisted over the howling wind as she was loaded onto a stretcher and strapped down for her safety—or rather, the safety of those trying to restrain her. She was soaked through, along with everyone else, and she found that laying still in one place was only making her feel wetter. "I didn't get hit that hard!"
She tried to wave them away with her hand, but one of the men grabbed her arm and held it down by her side, securing a strap over her chest. She winced as he tightened it; the pain patches, which she was very accustomed to after years of accidents, only worked so well. Ginny glared up at him, noting that his name tag labelled him as Jonathan. Well, Jonathan, you're now on my Strongly Dislike list.
"Miss Weasley," Jonathan began, looking harassed. "You have at least three bones sticking out of your arm, and your side's a mess. You're not fine, and we need to get you to Emergency."
"Do as they say, Weasley," her coach, Gwenog Jones, said, pulling at her greying hair, which was a wet mess around her face. "I need you back in flying form as soon as possible." She glanced up at Sally Smith, Ginny's replacement, who was flying a little wobbly against the strong wind and rain. "You're the best Chaser I've got."
"Alright, Coach," Ginny said, sighing in defeat. "Sorry for the hit."
"Don't be silly, Weasley," Jones said, scowling at her. "The whistle had been blown. We—" The crowd cheered and Ginny slouched down against the stretcher. She knew they were going to lose without her, and Jones' face reflected that sentiment.
"Get me out of here then," Ginny told the mediwizards dejectedly.
"Oh? Are we allowed to now?" the one near her head asked. This one was Stewart.
"Oi," Ginny said, wincing as they picked up the stretcher, setting it up onto its rolling legs, and pulled their wands. "I just want to do my job."
"So do we," Jonathan replied tersely.
And with that, they Disapparated with her in tow to St Mungo's emergency room.
As they popped back into existence Ginny groaned as the lights above her stabbed at her eyes. They were surprisingly bright after the greyed evening she had been playing in.
Without preamble, the mediwizards magiked themselves and her dry, then wheeled her out of the Apparation room, heading towards the receiving area. She blinked her eyes several times, trying to adjust to the brightness, scowling slightly as she realized that Stewart had a very smug look on his face. She opened her mouth to tell him off but slammed it shut as a staff member approached them.
"What have we got here?" an unwelcomely familiar voice asked near her feet. Of course, she had to get bludgeoned when he was on duty. She always did. In fact, this was four for four. She either had really rotten luck, or he didn't have much of a life. "Ah, Weasley, always a pleasure. Forget to keep your eyes open again?"
"It's pouring cats and dogs out there, Malfoy," Ginny snarled. "And the whistle had been blown."
"Excuses, excuses," he replied pleasantly.
She glared at him.
If anyone had suspected this was where Draco Malfoy would end up, they surely had kept that bit of insanity to themselves—especially given Malfoy's disappearance after his acquittal by the Wizengamot. No one thought they would see or hear from the young Malfoy heir again (if they cared to waste their time thinking about him at all, which Ginny certainly hadn't). Yet, not five years ago, he had reappeared, working as a Trauma Healer in St. Mungo's new ER, and had been quietly working away ever since.
Unfortunately, (or not so unfortunately, Ginny was loath to admit) it was a place both Ginny and her family visited frequently, given their chosen careers, so Malfoy, in some way, was back in their world. It wasn't in a small way either. If saving someone in an ER led to a wizarding debt, then half her family now owed him their lives. This was a fact none of them liked to think about much, especially Ron—who had been brought back from the veil not once, but twice, by the annoying ferret. To say that Ron was nearly apoplectic about it was an understatement, but, as Malfoy had reassured him, they were even now.
"Hit to the back of her right upper arm with a Bludger," Stewart told Malfoy as they all moved through the ER to an empty space. "It knocked her off her broom and she fell about fifty feet before she hit the Fall Barrier, and landed on her right side."
"Why did you have to go and fall on it as well?" Malfoy asked, glancing over at her and smirking. "Trying to make sure I have my work cut out for me?"
"Why else would I?" she snapped, rolling her eyes, then glared at Jonathan, who had opened his mouth, a scowl on his face. He shut it, and Stewart continued his summary of events.
"On her right, her humerus has three compound fractures and there is possible shoulder damage, with a few broken ribs and what looks like internal bleeding." Stewart scowled at her. "But she was being difficult, so we couldn't confirm."
"Sounds about right," Malfoy told the mediwizard, absently signing the clipboard the other one handed to him. "Don't take it personally. She's the worst patient I've ever had."
Stewart snorted, then without a glance her way, the two mediwizards made themselves scarce.
Good riddance, she thought. Bedside manner? What bedside manner?
A handful of nurses moved in to take their place, and Ginny hoped that they would do better than those two.
"I thought I told you not to fall off your broom anymore, Weasley," Malfoy drawled, drawing her attention back to him.
She scowled at the amusement that was shining through his otherwise neutral expression.
Not for the first time, she realized that if it wasn't for that damned expression (the one that seemed like he was always amused by her suffering) he might have passed for handsome. The bone structure of his face was finely sculpted and aristocratic. His skin smooth and pale. His silver-blond hair, which he always parted to the side, skimmed along the top of his ears, and fell into his eyes in a roguish fashion. And then there were his eyes, silver irises with darker grey around the edges. A girl could get lost in those eyes. Well, if they weren't always scowling at her.
Ginny supposed it was for the best, considering who he was.
"Right," she hissed, trying to distract herself. "Like I was flying about and thought 'gee, you know what, getting hit by a Bludger and falling off my broom sounds like a real treat.'"
"We both know you just wanted an excuse to see me again," he said, smirking at her once more as he waved his wand, releasing the mediwizards' awful straps.
"As if," she snapped, shifting slightly in her newly found freedom. "A less painful way would have been for me to just tell Luna I'd lost my mind and had her invite us both over for tea at the same time."
"Ah," he said, nodding his head, the smirk becoming slightly lecherous. "But then you wouldn't have an excuse for me to touch you."
"Sod off!" Ginny exclaimed, scowling and struggling to sit up.
She didn't have to deal with this right now. She didn't care who he was friends with or what his bloody job was. Luna could scold her all she wanted about how she had upset her friend, but for the moment she didn't care.
Malfoy's large, startlingly warm hand was on her uninjured shoulder in an instant, pushing her back down with surprising gentleness.
"Now, now, Weasley," he chided her, his silver eyes flicking from her face to her shoulder, not showing any sign of worry; there was only continued amusement, though the smirk was gone. "You know the rules. Play nice."
"Ugh, whatever," she hissed, flopping back on the bed as nurses came in with a few carts.
Everyone was moving around her now, pulling items, reading information off her chart, all while Malfoy began to wave his wand over her. Then one of the nurses came at her jersey with a pair of scissors.
"Don't cut it!" she yelped before the nurse could start. "It's my lucky jersey!"
The nurse looked at Malfoy, who just rolled his eyes, the diagnostic runes he had been summoning fading away before they had finished their work. He redirected his wand at her top.
"You're ridiculous, Weasley," he told her, not for the first time, vanishing the jersey and making it reappear at the foot of her bed. "Are you wearing your lucky brassier as—" His eyes widened as they fell on her side. "Contact the OR," he snapped at one of the nurses. "Now!"
"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, alarmed for the first time. Malfoy had never lost his cool like this before.
"You're a mess, Weasley, that's what's wrong," Malfoy said, finally summing the diagnostic runes while looking down on her side.
The nurses scurried around them, and the runes flashed red in Ginny's periphery, but her attention was locked on him. He shouted something else to the nurses, his warm hands now gently pressing into her side. The pain patch was either wearing off or that really hurt.
Malfoy's eyes locked with hers, concern etched deep within them. It sent a shiver down her spine. "But don't worry, I'll get you sorted."
"You always do," she replied as confidently as she could, trying to ignore the panic that was gripping her heart. A nurse waved her wand over her head and Ginny's vision dimmed, Malfoy's eyes the last thing she saw before everything went dark.
—o—
When Ginny next opened her eyes, she was forced to slam them shut again with a groan. Why was the light so bleeding bright? A moment later she realized that her body was aching something awful, and she gritted her teeth. Merlin, it even hurt to breathe.
"Ah, welcome back to the world of the living, Weasley," a voice drawled.
The lights dimmed and she finally managed to open her eyes and look around.
She was in a hospital suite, propped up on a bed in the centre of the small room. Malfoy was by the door, looking as though he had been about to leave, but he turned towards her and closed the door behind himself.
"Aren't you supposed to make the pain go away?" she grumbled at him as he approached the bed.
"It was much worse before," he said, his expression completely neutral. It startled her how different it was from the concerned eyes she had seen before she had slipped into unconsciousness. Had she actually seen it? "We almost lost you."
"What?" she demanded sharply, then winced as pain ripped through her side. Her ribs felt like they had been smashed in. "It was just a Bludger hit," she said more calmly.
"And an awkward landing after a fifty-foot fall, which the Fall Barrier can only do so much about," he reminded her, narrowing his eyes. "Or did you forget the fall?"
"No," she replied, slumping back into the bed. "I didn't forget the fall."
"You should work on that," he told her, waving his wand over her methodically, looking at the runes that were appearing in the air. "Quidditch works best if you stay on your broom."
"Har har," she replied, shifting slightly and wincing. "What did you do to me?"
"You had serious internal injuries," he said, then muttered a Lumos Charm and pointed the light quickly at her right eye, then again at the left. She blinked rapidly, seeing spots. "We had to be a bit more invasive than usual."
"Fantastic," she said, attempting to brush his hands aside, only to realize that her right arm wouldn't move.
She looked down at it dumbly.
It was strapped securely to her chest.
Well, that wasn't a good sign.
"What did you do to my arm?" she asked, hating the note of panic that she heard. If Malfoy heard it as well, he didn't comment.
"We had to put a metal plate in it," he told her, pulling back, his expression impassive. "You've broken it too many times, and I was worried that it was becoming compromised. It's going to take a little while to heal properly."
"You put a piece of metal in me?" she demanded, looking up at him in horror.
"It's not that big of a deal," he said, shrugging. "Muggles do it all the time."
Ginny stared at him as though he had grown a second head. Not only had he put a piece of metal into her, but he was talking about Muggles as though he hadn't previously wanted to eradicate the lot of them. And for him to actually use one of their ideas? It was unheard of!
"You're one of the first to get one," he continued, though she hardly paid him any attention. "You're quite fortunate, really."
"Fine," she said, gritting her teeth. "Whatever. How long until I'm fit to play?"
"You're out for the rest of the season."
"What?" Ginny demanded, her ribs once again protesting loudly, but this time she tried to ignore them. "You can't do that to me! They won't win the Cup without me!"
"Be that as it may, you're not getting on a broom anytime soon," he told her, his expression still the usual neutral mask.
"You said it was going to take a bit of time to heal! Why the hell did you put that thing into me?"
"It's not because of the plate," Malfoy replied, frowning at her now. "It's because of everything you banged up inside of your chest. There's only so much magic can do when you try to squish all of your internal organs in one go."
Ginny stared at him, feeling the anger drop out of her.
"But it was just a Bludger hit," she said more to herself than him.
It was barely into the season, what was she supposed to do with herself if she couldn't play? She knew it was in her contract to help coach if she was injured, but how long until she would be fit to even do that?
"It's not that bad, Weasley," Malfoy told her softly, startling her out of her reverie. "They're not going to boot you off the team or anything. You're the best Chaser they've got."
Ginny blinked at him. Had he just complimented her? A Malfoy complimenting a Weasley? Was the world ending and she just hadn't been made aware of it yet? She had been unconscious for who knew how long…
"That's not what I'm worried about," she told him honestly, surprising herself. He raised an eyebrow in question. "I don't know what to do with myself when I'm not playing Quidditch."
Malfoy stared at her for a moment then snorted.
"You're not going to be doing much more than resting," he told her, carefully checking the dressings taped to her side. Once again Ginny noticed, despite herself, how warm and deft his hands were. "You need to give your body a chance to heal, even with magic helping. I suppose you could always catch up on your reading or telly."
She looked at him nonplussed, then shook her head.
"Forced vacation then."
"Forced vacation," he agreed with a nod.
"You're such a dictator," she grumbled.
"You and I both know that the wellbeing of my patients is my primary concern," he told her, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"But the torment you wreak upon us is just an added bonus?"
"Something like that." He began waving his wand over her once more, glancing at the runes that showed up over her.
"Am I still going to be able to go on my actual vacation with Luna?" she asked him, the thought suddenly occurring to her.
It wasn't that big of a deal, really. Just a handful of days on an Italian beach with her best friend between games and quests for who-knew-whats. But still, Ginny had been looking forward to it, a little reprieve before winter began to set in.
"Obviously, I won't be doing anything other than lying about on the beach or sitting in cafes. Or knowing my luck, just lying about in an overpriced hotel room."
Malfoy stared down at her, his expression unreadable.
"In two weeks, you should be all right to travel," he told her finally, pulling his hands back and taking off the rubber gloves he had on.
Ginny blinked. He knew when she was supposed to be joining Luna? How much did Luna tell him about her?
"As long as you sit under an umbrella the entire time," he continued, shaking his head. "Too much sun won't help those freckles of yours."
Ginny scowled at him, absently raising her left hand to rub her nose, where the freckles seemed to congregate before they began their migration out across her face.
"You like them," she said, narrowing her eyes. "You're just too afraid to admit it."
"Keep dreaming, Weasley," he said, smirking at her, the skin around his eyes crinkling slightly. She stared at the crinkles in surprise as he took a step back. "Everything seems to be as it should. If you're up for it, your family and teammates are in the lobby and nearly rabid to see you."
"Yeah, send in the horde," she told him, smiling slightly.
He nodded his head before turning and walking towards the door.
"Hey, Malfoy." He paused and turned to look at her. "Thank you."
"My pleasure, Weasley," he replied, dipping his head slightly. Then he slipped out of the room, closing the door behind himself.
Ginny stared at it, the skin around his eyes in the forefront of her mind. It had almost looked like he was smiling. Could he actually smile?
There was a knock at the door, and a moment later the small militia that she called her family, friends, and teammates flowed in. She sighed, Malfoy slipping from her mind, and smiled at all of them, preparing to tell them the bad news.
—o—
A week after her release from the hospital, the sound of the fireplace roaring to life startled Ginny awake. She turned her head, absently wiping at her mouth, to find Hermione smiling at her as she climbed out of the grate.
"Hi, Ginny," she said. "I didn't wake you, did I?"
"Not hard to do," Ginny said amiably.
Orton meowed and leapt off her legs, landing on the ground with a grunt before hurrying over with his lopsided gait to the new petting person. Orton adored Crookshanks, (who, in his senior years, didn't want anything to do with poor Orton) and by extension loved everyone who was covered in his hair.
"All these potions make me sleep every couple of hours," Ginny continued, stifling a yawn as she watched Hermione kneel down to pet her grey cat.
Ginny hadn't seen Hermione since just before her release from the hospital, which wasn't terribly unusual for them. Hermione was always incredibly busy, working to improve things with the Ministry and their laws, the Aurors, Magical Creatures' rights, and who knew what other projects that wandered into her lap. Not to mention raising her two young children, Hugo and Rose. Ginny had no idea how she did it: she had trouble minding herself and her cat, let alone a household and half the wizarding world.
"Good thing you have nothing better to do," Hermione said, smiling. "Are you ready to go?"
"Just let me grab my purse," she said, glancing around for her wand before she remembered there was no point in taking it. So instead, she walked over to the front hall and pulled open her closet door. She glanced at her neatly arranged shoe collection and sighed knowing it would be months before she could wear heels again. She pulled out a pair of well-worn flats and slipped them on.
"Sorry it's taken me so long to come see you," Hermione said. Orton let out an excited meow and made his way over to the front door, anticipating his opportunity to escape.
"Don't worry about it," Ginny replied. "People have been doing nothing but stopping by all week. Between them and the owls from my fans that the team has been forwarding over, I actually haven't had much time to myself since I got home."
"So, I did you a favour then?"
"Yah," Ginny said, grinning. "That's what we'll call it. What have you been up to?"
"Oh, things have been nuts at work with everything New Rising has been up to. Their attempts at extortion are getting bolder."
"Have you had any luck catching them?"
"None," Hermione sighed, as they made their way out of her flat. Hermione used her foot to expertly keep Orton from slipping out the door, much to Orton's dismay. "It has Ron and Harry in a right snit too. They're always one step ahead of us."
"I just don't understand why people are still trying to fight this fight," Ginny sighed as they made their way out of her building, using the elevator. "Wasn't the bloodshed with Tom enough?"
"I can't say that I blame them," Hermione said with a shrug, and Ginny looked at her in surprise. "I'm not saying that I agree with their methods," she said quickly, "but I can understand them. Despite what your father and Kingsley have done in office, the Ministry, and society in general, still insist on treating former Death Eaters and their supporters differently from everyone else. They've gone from being the top of society to the bottom with no chance of appeal. That would make anyone angry and desperate for change."
"Malfoy seems to be doing fine," Ginny said as she turned the door latch on the front door and pushed it open with her hip.
"I think he's the exception because of what his mother did for Harry," Hermione said, shaking her head. "And because of what Harry himself said for him at his trial." Hermione paused. "I also have a feeling Harry had something to do with him becoming a Healer."
"I'm sure Malfoy loved that," Ginny said dryly, glancing around at the fall colours around them. Her chest ached something awful as she realized that she wouldn't be able to go flying on such a beautiful day. But she shoved it aside. She couldn't let herself go there.
"Probably not," Hermione said with a laugh. "But enough about work and former Death Eaters. How are you doing?"
"I'm doing okay," Ginny said honestly. "Even though I'm not allowed to do anything other than lie on the couch or go for short walks. But it's not as bad as I thought it would be. Pagsy has been a huge help in the mornings, which makes things easier."
The little home-care elf popped by every morning to help her get cleaned, dressed, and ready for the day. She thought she would hate the attention, but it was a relief not having to battle tasks that normally would have taken her seconds if her arm had been working properly.
"Good," Hermione said with a nod, coming to a stop in front of the little cafe Ginny often went to. She pulled the door open and motioned for Ginny to go through. "I was a little worried. You made such a fuss before you left the hospital."
"I know," Ginny said, dipping her head slightly as she made her way over to a free booth by the window. "I really don't want this to be my reality, but there's nothing that I can do about it. So, it's time to suck it up." Ginny grinned widely. "And it hasn't hurt that everyone who comes by has been bringing me food."
"I still can't believe that you can only cook with a wand. I don't know how you could grow up with a mum like yours and never learn to cook."
"It never interested me," Ginny replied, shrugging. Really, it hadn't. Now that she was older it would be nice to know, but she really didn't have the time to learn. Maybe now that she had to slow down, she could. "Which reminds me, that Muggle box you had Ron bring over is amazing."
"The microwave?" Hermione asked, glancing up from her menu. "I thought you might like that."
"It's fantastic. I think I'm going to keep it. Though if people aren't bringing me food to heat up I don't know what I'll put in it…"
"You could just learn to cook and put in your leftovers."
"Or that." Ginny yawned, just barely managing to cover it with her hand.
"Are you tired already?"
"I told you, my energy is all over the place." Ginny grinned at her. "Maybe I'll just take a quick nap here."
"I'm sure the reporters will love that," Hermione said dryly.
"Not really concerned with what they think," Ginny replied with a shrug, glancing over the menu. "Not since all that tosh they said about me after I divorced Harry and shattered his fragile heart."
"It was a mutual parting, as I remember it."
"They didn't think so," Ginny said darkly, rubbing absently at her arm. The sling was charmed to hold her arm in place, no matter what she did, and sometimes she found herself touching it just to remind herself it was still there.
The waitress came and they both ordered some treats and a pot of tea. There was a surprising lack of drama as they placed their order, which was a nice change for both of them. Usually, whenever Hermione and Ginny were out together it caused at least a bit of a stir. But this was the Muggle side, so they were both delightfully anonymous. It was one of the reasons Ginny loved her flat: no nosey wizards or witches around to bother her.
"How is your arm?" Hermione asked, watching her.
"Painful," Ginny said honestly. "Though it's more my shoulder and ribs that hurt. Where my arm was actually broken doesn't feel that bad by comparison."
"So, the plate was a success? I'm sure Julian will be happy to hear that."
Julian Gates was the wizard who had invented her plate.
"I forgot that you work with him sometimes," Ginny said, picturing the nerdy and rather awkward man in her mind.
She had met him once by accident when she had gone to meet Hermione at the library. The two of them had been finishing up a meeting, shuffling through mountains of research and talking quietly to each other. All Ginny could really remember of him was that he was tall and had the most ridiculous looking glasses she had ever seen. They had been huge and thick rimmed so that half his face was hidden behind them. Why anyone would want to look like that voluntarily, was beyond her.
"I can't seem to help it," Hermione told her with a small smile. "He has some very interesting ideas. No one else has done more than talk about blending Muggle technology with magic, but he's doing it."
They both leant back as the waitress brought them their tea and desserts. They both said their thanks and tucked in, turning back to their conversation.
"And it's a much more involved process than I had first thought," Hermione continued. "The metal in your plate took forever to refine because he kept running into problems with the elements interfering with the patient's magic. And then there was the problem of how to keep someone from summoning it out of your body."
Ginny winced, not even wanting to consider that as a possibility.
"And you helped him figure it out?"
"Oh, no," Hermione said, shaking her head. "That was all him. I usually only have time to consult. I hardly ever see him beyond our brief meetings in the library."
Ginny smiled. Hermione, amongst her many projects, had raised money to turn the decaying public library into an establishment that rivalled Hogwarts' collection. She had gotten book donations from all over Europe, and now the whole place was growing as more and more people began to use it. Ginny knew it was mostly because Hermione had missed being able to hide in a proper library, but she was proud of her friend's involvement nonetheless.
A soft blue light lit up their booth, and they both turned to see Ron's Patronus popping its head up discreetly between Hermione and the wall.
"Hermione," Ron's voice whispered urgently. "We need you in Headquarters as soon as possible."
"Okay," Hermione whispered back, and the terrier nodded before slipping back under the table, the light fading away. "I'm sorry, Ginny," she said, turning back to her. She pulled some money out and placed it on the table, looking contrite. "I'm actually surprised I managed this much time before something happened."
"It's alright," Ginny said. "I'll just eat my dessert then go home and take a nap."
"I'm really glad you're doing okay," Hermione told her, giving her a quick and careful hug. "We're all really worried about you."
"I'm fine," Ginny assured her. "Now go. The world needs you."
Hermione smiled at her, looking a little harassed, then hurried out of the cafe.
Ginny sighed, leaning back into the seat, exhaustion washing over her. She looked down at the remains of her dessert and gave it up as a bad job.
Without much fuss, she left the cafe and headed home, her delightfully squishy couch in mind. She could feel the potions clouding her mind but wasn't worried that she wouldn't get home before they made her too sleepy.
However, she was oblivious to what was around her, and it wasn't until she was nearly at her building's front steps that she realized she should have been paying attention.
Getting jarred back into reality, she came to an abrupt stop as she saw someone sitting there who had no business being there at all. A blond someone, who was idly reading a book.
Her eyes went wide, flicking over his casual posture, his Muggle clothing, and the paperback he was reading. He looked so different from how he did in the hospital—or at Luna's gallery openings, or as Luna's date at Ministry events—that it took a moment for her brain to actually process who she was seeing. Once she had, she was about to turn around and take the back entrance, when he looked up from his book and fixed his eyes on her.
"Hello, Weasley," he drawled. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Not really," she replied flatly, staring at him. Though Luna had befriended Malfoy almost six years ago now, he had never approached Ginny before, or shown any indication that he wanted to—which she greatly appreciated. Why the sudden change? "What are you doing here, Malfoy? And better yet, how do you know where here is?"
"I looked up your address in the hospital files," he told her indifferently, dropping his book down onto the step.
"Isn't that illegal?"
"Only if you get caught," he replied, looking up and grinning slightly at her.
Ginny stared at his mouth, wondering what the hell was going on. It was like an unwritten rule that Weasleys and Malfoys did not grin at each other. Come to think of it, it probably was written down somewhere, and now that she saw him grinning, she understood why: it was just wrong.
"Are you doing house-calls now?"
"Not exactly," he said, getting to his feet.
She resisted the urge to take a step back.
He was much taller than she had ever realized. Mainly, she thought, because she hadn't stood this close to him since they had left school. At Luna's openings, or Ministry events, he always made a point of staying on the other side of the room from her, just as she did him.
Now, as he loomed over her, he made her realize exactly how much she herself took after her mother, and it wasn't a very comfortable experience.
"I know I've never really given you reason to believe this, but I really do like you."
"What?"
"I know you probably won't believe me, but it's true," he told her, looking down at her intently.
She stared up at him, her mind whirling around sluggishly, trying to make some sense of all this. Now the potions were making her worry just a little bit. She needed her wits about her, for not only was Malfoy on her front step waiting for her, but he liked her?
"So, all those times in the hospital when you were a complete arse to me was just a show…?" she asked. Yet even as she said the words she realized they weren't true. Not really, at least. He was always snarky, but never an arse. At least, not like he had been before.
"Well, I couldn't very well flirt with you when you were my patient, could I?"
"I haven't been your patient since you walked out of my recovery room," she said, narrowing her eyes. "You obviously weren't biting at the bit to show up before now. Had to wait until a couple days before my trip?"
"Your—well, I've been a bit busy with work," he told her. "But you've been on my mind the whole time."
She just stared at him.
Finally, he sighed, shrugging his shoulders.
"You almost died on my table. It put some things into perspective."
"What things?" she asked, her limbs numb as she stood there. She was very aware of her left hand just hanging by her side, oddly heavy and unwilling to move.
"I used to have a thing for you back in school," he replied with a casual shrug, as though this fact was no big deal. "Then when I saw you again after I got back to England it reminded me of how truly stunning you are. I thought there would be plenty of time, but you scared me." He paused, glancing down at his feet. "So, here I am."
Something was ringing distractingly in her ear.
He was serious, wasn't he? How was this even possible?
She glanced around, wondering if someone, possibly George, was going to jump out of the hedgerows and cry "gotcha!"
But no one did.
It was just her and Malfoy on the sidewalk. Her and a Malfoy who had apparently lost his bloody mind.
"This… this is all very interesting," she finally said carefully. "But I don't understand why you're telling me. Why are you here, Malfoy?"
"I was wondering if you would go to dinner with me," he told her, startling her with the earnestness in his silver eyes.
"Who put you up to this?" she heard herself ask.
She glanced around, desperately wishing that someone would just show up and start laughing. She didn't want to live in a world where the Great Bouncing Ferret had a thing for her, let alone felt that he could show up on her front steps and act on it. It just wasn't right. Not right at all. Wasn't his befriending her best friend enough lunacy for one lifetime?
"No one." He hesitated. "Go on a date with me. Give me one chance to prove my sincerity to you."
"No!" she said automatically, taking a step back.
"Please," he said. "Just one."
Ginny stopped.
Had Draco fucking Malfoy just say please? To a Weasley? While asking her out? What the hell had happened to the world? What alternate reality had she fallen into? Were her potions making her hallucinate now? She didn't think she read about that on the warning labels…
But she had to be hallucinating. It was the only explanation because none of this was making sense to her.
He had never even spoken to her outside of the hospital before, and now he apparently liked her and wanted to go to dinner of all things? She had a hard enough time accepting that Harry had vouched for him after the war, and she still had problems accepting how fondly Luna thought of him, but this was something else entirely.
And yet… she trusted both Harry and Luna with her life, and if they had accepted him…
Bloody hell. Was she actually considering this?
She must have hit her head harder than anyone realized.
"I'll think about it," she told him, startling herself.
His eyes lit up and she raised her good hand.
"But don't get your hopes up. You're not exactly my type."
"I come to your rescue all the time," he told her, smirking slightly at her. "I thought you had a thing for heroes."
Ginny tried to hide her surprise. He had never referred to himself as her hero before. But she supposed that in his way he was—if a Malfoy could actually be heroic.
"Keep talking like that and the next time you see me will be whenever I happen to get bashed in by a Bludger," she told him. "Which, thanks to you, won't be until next season."
Malfoy raised both his eyebrows, watching her as she walked past him. She waved her pass-card at the door sensor when she reached it. The lock clicked and she pushed the door open, pausing to look back at him. His eyes were still fixed on her, pink high on his cheeks.
"Good day, Malfoy," she said, then walked into the building, letting the heavy door swing shut and lock soundly behind her.
—o—
A few days later, Ginny glanced up at the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes sign, as she pushed the door open. The bell jingled and the usual smell of smoke, sweets, and potions ingredients greeted her nose. The shop always smelt like the twins' bedroom from when they were all younger, and upon entering she always felt like she was being enveloped in a warm and comforting hug.
"Little sister!" George said happily as he approached, wrapping her up in a gentle hug. It wasn't the usual bear hug he gave her, but it was still a George hug, which was one of the best types around. "What are you doing here?"
"I was just picking up some last-minute things, and thought I'd pop in," Ginny said with a lopsided shrug, looking up at him.
He seemed good today. His eyes brighter than usual and his posture seemed more secure. The tracks under his eyes were still there, but they never seemed to go away, nor did the sadness.
After the war, George had returned to Diagon Alley to find the shop in absolute shambles. They had all been terrified that he was just going to give up and walk away, even Mum. But George had simply rolled up his sleeves and gotten to work, putting order to chaos. All of them had helped when they could, especially Percy, and within three months George held his grand reopening. Everyone in the family had been relieved, but Ginny had seen how his smile had not quite reached his eyes—and to this day it had never really come back. She had a feeling that the routine of life was all that was keeping George living sometimes, and she had no idea what to do about it.
"You're still going to get Orton tonight, right?" she asked, brushing her thoughts aside. If she thought too much about any of it, she was liable to cry and not be able to stop; and she had spent too many years crying to allow that.
"That depends, are you still going on your trip?"
"Of course, I'm not letting a few broken bones and a near death experience get in the way of a holiday!" she declared, shaking her head. One of the customers laughed, and Ginny shot them a grin.
"Sometimes I forget how stubborn you are," George said, returning her grin.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Never. But yes, I will pick him up tonight."
"Perfect," Ginny said, grinning. "I know you two will have a blast. I put some earplugs on the table with his stuff."
"So thoughtful of you," George replied, shaking his head. "Though I was just planning on using the usual Silencing Charm on him."
"Then how will you know when he's hungry?"
"Is that why he always makes such a racket?" her brother asked her incredulously. "Because if that's the case he's never full."
"Pretty much, yeah."
"I don't know how you put up with him," George said, shaking his head.
"We get on just fine," Ginny said fondly. "Besides, it's not his fault. You, on the other hand, are the one who gave him to me. If anything, I should be mad at you."
"You could never be mad at me for anything," George told her. "Unless I do something really bad."
"Like give me a cat that howls twenty-four-seven?"
"Nah, something much worse: like use your shoe collection for an experiment or something."
"You wouldn't."
"You never know with me."
Ginny laughed shortly, then grabbed her side in pain.
"Sorry," he said with a grimace. "I keep forgetting: don't make the little sister laugh."
Ginny bit back another laugh, then glanced at her watch, taken aback by the time. She had thought she had more of it. "I have to get going." She stepped forward and gave him a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks again, George."
"Any time, Gin. Have a good trip," he said, releasing her. "And say hi to Luna for me. See if she's found anything interesting that I can work with. That tongo flower from her last trip was just what I needed for my new line of Snack Boxes."
"Perhaps I will," Ginny said, as she headed out the door. "You might just have earned it after putting up with my little terror for the weekend."
"I should be getting lots of things then because I'm always the one watching him."
"That's because you're the one who found him in the first place," she reminded him again, winking as she pushed the door open. "I wouldn't subject anyone else to him unless they piss me off."
"You're such a kind-hearted individual, sis," George said, catching the door.
"I know," she said cheerfully. "See you later, big brother."
"Bye, little sister."
With a final wave she left the shop, a smile still on her face. Spending time with George always made her feel better about anything, regardless of his mood. The same had been true of Fred as well…
She stopped that thought and headed to the Leaky Cauldron to get back out into Muggle London.
Hoping to get a bit of energy, she stopped at a Muggle cafe and got a latte. She had a feeling she wouldn't be going to bed anytime soon, as her and Luna had a lot to catch up on—especially about Malfoy.
She had wanted nothing more than to talk to her about all of it, not only because Luna was one of her best friends, but because of all the people she knew, Luna knew Malfoy best. If anyone could make sense of this insanity it was Luna—however ironic that idea might be. She just wasn't sure if Luna would be able to explain to her why she was growing more and more inclined to say yes.
Ginny resisted the urge to sigh and glanced around the park she was walking through. A head of silver-blond hair caught her eye, and her heart slammed against her chest in surprise. What were the chances?
Without thinking she moved towards him, all her plans and resolutions flying out of her head as she took air into her lungs to speak.
"Malfoy," she called as she walked over to him. He was sitting on a bench, once again dressed in Muggle clothing, facing the pond. There were some ducks lazily floating around amongst the reeds, paying her and the wizard no attention at all.
The blond looked up from the book he was reading, raising a hand to block the light from his eyes. She noticed that it was a different novel, and he was already quite far into it. How fast could he read?
"Weasley?" he asked, frowning at her. "Aren't you supposed to be leaving for your trip?"
"My Portkey leaves in an hour," she told him distractedly, waving off his comment. "But I've given it some thought," she told him before she could stop herself, her breath in short supply and her heart still pounding distractingly in her chest. "And I agree."
"Agree to what?" he asked, frowning more.
"To what you asked me," she said, frowning slightly back at him.
"I don't recall asking you anything," he said slowly, putting a bookmark in his place and setting the book carefully down beside him. "Are you feeling all right? You haven't hit your head or anything, have you?"
"I'm fine," she said, scowling at him. "You asked me out, and I'm agreeing."
Malfoy stared at her, surprise, then confusion and concern, flickering across his face before his neutral mask fell into place.
"I know you're a catch, Weasley, but I have never asked you out."
"Come off it," she said, feeling her cheeks heat up. "You were on my step, and you said all that stuff about…" Ginny's words died in her throat at his expression, which was becoming steadily more incredulous. "You don't remember, do you?"
"No," he replied slowly. His eyes were flicking across her, as sharp as they always were in the hospital when he was assessing the damage she had done to herself. "Because there is nothing to remember. That never happened."
Ginny's heart changed tempo as it continued to beat against her chest.
Something was wrong here. Very wrong.
Possibilities swirled through her mind. From the depressing: that she was losing her mind, or perhaps Malfoy was (it would explain the request for a date in the first place); to terrifying: that the man she had spoken with hadn't been Malfoy after all.
"Weasley?" Malfoy asked, getting to his feet. Once again, he loomed over her. It felt uncomfortable in an entirely different way. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she replied, shaking her head, and taking a step back.
"Then why do you look as though you've seen a Dementor?"
He took a step towards her, his hand reaching up as he did so.
"I just got confused," she said, taking another step back so she was out of his reach. "Sorry."
With that she turned around and hurried away as quickly as she could, her lungs beginning to burn with the effort and her side aching horribly. He called after her, concern in his voice, but she ignored him and refused to look back.
Who had she actually spoken to?
Soon she was back out on the street, putting the park, and him, behind her. All she could think about was getting home and Flooing Harry. Ginny wanted nothing more than to leave all of it behind for him to deal with as she left for her trip. Let him sort this out. She had had far too much excitement during her time in Hogwarts to deal with any of this now. She just wanted to play Quidditch and for the world to leave her to it. Malfoy doppelgängers were not in her realm of interest at all.
Finally, she made it to her block, and she let out a breath of relief. She rounded the corner and stopped short.
Malfoy was sitting on the front step again, the same book he had had last time in his hands, dressed in completely different clothes than the ones from moments before. He looked up and smiled at her. It was a real and genuine smile that transformed his face but didn't reach his eyes.
Ginny's latte slipped from her fingers.
That really wasn't Draco Malfoy.
The not-Malfoy got to his feet, and Ginny stumbled back, taking several hasty steps in her attempt to get away from him. Her mind spun and she cursed the Bludger, her bunk arm, and her instinct to have run away from the real Malfoy in the first place.
She really just wanted her wand in her hand so she could blast this one away from her.
There was a loud squealing sound to her right, and, much later, Ginny would remember seeing the flash of headlights before something slammed into her side. She would vaguely remember flying through the air, weightless and serene for far too short a period, before the intense pain as she landed hard. She knew the pain must have been what made her pass-out, and frankly, she was glad for it.
—o—
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought! See you next week. :)