A/N: Here it is, for better or worse. Almost NC17 at the end but not
quite. The rest of the A/N is at the end of the chapter.
Chapter Sixteen
Ginny moved stiffly to the table and eyed the basin of water. Her fingers itched to snatch it up and dash the contents at this rude, arrogant, selfish son of a bitch! But she wasn't sixteen any more. She wouldn't let her temper get the best of her. Instead, she turned to him, focusing at a point just above his head.
"You're doing much better, Malfoy, if your volume is any indication," she gritted at him. "Much as I'd like to comply and, how did you put it? 'Ride a slow broom to hell,' I have things to finish."
She rolled up her sleeves and approached him, still refusing to meet his eyes.
"Virginia, let me—," he started, but she cut him off with a gesture of her hand.
"I'm going to examine you, Malfoy, then I'll assign another healer to finish your treatment. You should be ready to travel in a day or two. I understand you're a fast healer."
Draco reached out to take the hand she'd gestured with, but she pulled away, out of his reach.
"I'll stupefy you if I must," she said in a hard voice, then added more quietly, "I've done it before, you know."
"Gods, Virginia, just listen!" he said desperately. This was not going as he'd hoped.
"I heard plenty, Malfoy," she said stiffly, pulling her wand from her pocket. She aimed it ominously at him. "You had four years to get in touch with me, Malfoy. And practically the first words out of your mouth were to go to hell. I would say we have nothing to discuss!"
Draco looked from the wand to the hard glare she was giving him. She was dead serious! With a sigh he lay back and stared at the ceiling. She was right, of course. He could have sent her a note, a card, anything in the last four years, but he hadn't.
Ginny blinked hard, not wanting him to see how deeply his words had hurt. Then she got down to business. Putting the wand aside, she said, "If you'd pull up the shirt, I can look at your injury."
Draco listlessly lifted the hem up to his chest. Ginny had to fight not to gasp and cry at the bruising and redness she saw. She'd seen worse, hundreds of times, but no on anyone she cared for. After a moment, she reached out to touch the newly healed skin over the site of the injury. It looked taut, but not tight. And although it was warm to the touch, the area wasn't hot. She brushed away from the wound, feeling the redness, checking for warmth and tenderness. His face was tight, but he didn't seem to be in an inordinate amount of pain. The redness seemed to be mostly from bruising, not infection. Then, without warning, she stiffened her fingers and dug them into his abdomen, wanting to check the organs to make sure she'd repaired all the damage. A very small, mean part of her laughed when he sucked in his breath.
"Shit! That hurts!" he hissed, glaring at her.
"Good! If I was scraping you off the ceiling now, I'd have to go back in and do more repair work. You'll be sore for some time, and I want you to let your next healer know if you have any problems using the bathroom. I'd say that you'll be fine, otherwise."
She stepped back and rolled her sleeves down, watching him yank the shirt down.
"You're still covered with blood, and as soon as I leave, Amy or one of the other medics will help you get cleaned up."
"Like hell," he muttered.
Ginny didn't like the idea of lovely, bright, blue-eyed Amy with her hands all over him, either. But she shrugged.
"Fine, Malfoy. When you're feeling up to it, I'll have one of the male medics help you to the showers, and you can do it yourself."
Draco frowned at her, wishing she'd stop calling him 'Malfoy'. He felt like he was back in Hogwarts again. He considered trying to talk to her again, but the curtains rattled and the young medic stuck her head in.
"Excuse me, Master Healer, but there's a visitor for Mr. Malfoy. Says she's Mrs. Malfoy?"
Ginny nodded; she'd been expecting the woman. Draco widened his eyes and stared at the curtains. It couldn't be, could it? He looked at Ginny and saw that she didn't seem at all surprised.
At that moment the curtain opened and Narcissa Malfoy stepped into the cubicle. As Draco had said years ago, the woman was beautiful. But she no longer had that vacant, perfect beauty he was so used to. Instead, her hair was mussed, but cut flatteringly. Her clothes weren't new, and looked a bit out of date, but she wore them well and carried herself straight and tall. And instead of the dramatic, just got out of the salon make up, she had a bit of lipstick and a light touch of eye makeup. In fact, she almost looked like a young girl, except when you noticed the worry lines about the eyes and mouth. But she was still exceptionally pretty. Draco just stared, apparently unable to even greet his mother, so Ginny walked up to her and put her hand out.
"Mrs. Malfoy, I'm Ginny Weasley. I'm, er, I was your son's healer and I sent you the owl last night. Believe it or not, your son's silence is of a very sudden nature. There's really nothing wrong with his voice."
Narcissa brushed away Ginny's hand and wrapped her arms around the younger woman. She gave Ginny a firm hug, then stood back, tears in the bright eyes.
"So you're the one who saved my boy! Bless you, dear, bless you! And how is he?"
Narcissa looked toward Draco, but his expression was still one of surprise and disbelief. Shaking her head, Ginny took one of the woman's hands and led her to the bed. She might be angry and heartbroken, but her heart went out to this woman who had been through so much, if the stories her mum and the twins had told her were true.
"Why don't you ask him yourself, Mrs. Malfoy?" she said, giving Draco a look that should have incinerated him on the spot. "He really does have a voice, as we all have reason to know."
Why wasn't he talking? Couldn't he see his mum was worried?
Finally, Draco cleared his throat.
"Mother," he said in a soft voice. "I thought—I didn't think you wanted to see me—." He stopped and swallowed, glancing at Ginny.
"Er, I'll leave you two to talk. Mrs. Malfoy, just call if you need anything!"
Ginny hurried out of the cubicle, then headed down the aisle between beds, staring straight ahead and walking quickly. She didn't want to see the expressions on the faces of Dra—Malfoy's crew. As she left the hospital tent a young man hurried over to her with a pouch slung over his shoulder.
"Mail's in," he called, digging into the pouch and pulling out a large bundle tied in string. "There's some stuff from the War Department, too," he said helpfully, not at all bothered that he'd been nosing around the camp's mail.
Ginny took the bundle silently, wanting only to get away and hide in her small cubicle for a while.
"Guess everyone's excited about the news, huh? Ready to ship back home? If your owls have too much to carry, just leave me the bundle and I'll take it back with me tomorrow, right?"
Ginny gave him a small nod and watched him head off to where he'd left his broom. She sighed and looked at the top letter. It looked very official and was from the War Department's Personnel Office. The rest of the mail looked like reports, forms and other bureaucratic nonsense. Most personal mail came by owl, but official stuff, when there was lots of it, came by courier. Ginny wandered back to her cubicle and sat at the desk. She wanted more than anything to just lie down and think, or cry, or yell. But she had a lot of backed up paperwork, reports to file on yesterday's emergencies, and, now, mail to answer.
Opening the letter from the Personnel Office, she scanned it quickly, then read more slowly. They somehow already knew about the attack on Dra—MALFOY'S camp, and had sent a team to investigate. The threat of more attacks in this area was felt to be minimal, now, and his personnel were to return to London for release or reassignment as soon as they were well enough to travel. There was a letter for Malfoy, giving him, Ginny supposed, his instructions. Also, her own medical unit was to be cut in half, with Ginny deciding who would go and who would stay. Those remaining would be responsible for closing down the facility and having everything ready to be returned to storage within a fortnight. Then they would also return to London for reassignment. At the end of the letter, there was a last paragraph stating that a small, crack team of medics and healers was being formed as a mobile unit to accompany the few scouting units left in the field. All senior healers were asked to recommend at least one or two members among their personnel for this duty.
Ginny figured the War Department must be very confident that they had weeded out the resistance, if they were recalling so many personnel. Now she had to decide who to keep and who to let go. That was pretty simple. For the most part, those with families, husbands, wives, and children, would be returned first. She would keep the single people with her to help break down the camp.
She considered the last paragraph again, wondering which of her medics and healers might be interested. As far as she was concerned, they were all qualified; it was just a matter of volunteering. As she was considering, a voice called out to her from outside the cubicle.
"Gin—er, Master Healer, can I have a word?"
Ginny gave a silent sigh. She did not need Eric Timmons to make her day even worse. But she supposed they needed to talk. Straightening and smoothing her robes, she called, "Yes, come in."
Timmons entered, looking haggard and disheveled. His face was unshaven and he looked as though he'd slept in his robes. Ginny stood straight and firmly met his eyes.
"I just wanted to apologize for my behavior last night," he said, looking down at her. "I know I was out of line—."
Ginny didn't let him finish. "Out of line?! You went way past out of line and bordering on criminal! Damn, Eric, what were you thinking? Do you know that he was this close," she held up a hand with her thumb and forefinger a bare half-inch apart, "to just slipping away? Was that what you wanted? For him to die?"
Timmons' eyes grew wide. "No way! I didn't do anything but talk to him! It's impossible!"
Ginny shook her head in frustration. "Gods, Eric, didn't you listen in school? Didn't you believe what you taught us at Hogwarts? 'We can be the best healers in the world, but if the patient wants to die, he will.' I don't know all you said, but when you left, he wanted to die!"
Instead of looking horrified, Timmons looked enraged. Enraged and jealous. He took a step toward Ginny and now towered over her.
"And what sweet promises did you make to bring him back? Huh? Four long years I waited for you to forget him. But all it took was a word from that spoiled, selfish bastard and you're ready to just drop everything for him, right? Even your pants, I suppose. I didn't even rate a kiss, but what did you offer him?" He sneered as he continued. "I guess I just wasn't rich enough for you, was that it? Couldn't see yourself settling for a medic's salary when you could have a mansion and all the trappings."
Even though he hadn't touched her, Ginny reeled back as if he'd struck her. She felt her chest tightening and knew she'd be in tears soon if she didn't get him out of here. She looked up and saw that he was finally looking horrified, as though he realized he'd just gone too far. She reached out to steady herself and her hand touched the letter she'd just received. Snatching it up, she finally got a hold of herself.
Timmons reached out for her, but Ginny put the desk's chair between them. Her voice was shaky when she spoke.
"Don't even think it, Medic Timmons. I don't have anything personal to say to you. Obviously, you can't continue here, so I'll give you a choice."
She briefly told him he could either be released to London, or could be sent to the mobile unit that was being formed. Her voice grew steadier as she spoke, and it held no room for argument. "Of course," she added in a hard voice, "whichever you choose, no mention of our previous conversation will be made, as long as you leave immediately."
She watched the different emotions play across his face, but he really didn't have any choice. His shoulders slumped.
"Fine, send me to the field unit. Maybe I'll be lucky and get killed."
He turned abruptly on his heel and was gone.
Ginny sat on her bed, revulsion causing her to shake. Gods, the things he'd said had been so disgusting, so hurtful! How could he say he cared, then say things like that? He couldn't have cared that much, could he? Could this day get any worse, she wondered? Feeling unbelievably weary, Ginny laid back and closed her eyes.
"Mother, what are you doing here? Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my letters?"
Draco still felt overwhelmed by the shock of seeing his mother. She looked older than he remembered, but she looked more alive than he'd ever seen her. Alive and, well, THERE! She looked like she was all there, not just some vacant eyed zombie on his fath—Lucius Malfoy's arm.
She laughed, a childlike, tinkling sound that lifted his spirits. He'd never heard her laugh like that before, either!
"Which should I answer first?" she asked. "Where should I start?"
Draco took on of her hands and pulled her onto his mattress. "Start from when you stopped answering my letters!" he ordered.
"All right, let me think." Narcissa put a slender finger to her chin and looked up at the ceiling, as though the answer was printed there. "Ah, yes, about two years ago."
She had drifted from one menial job to the next, determined not to rely on the kindness of the Weasleys and their friends, or the small amounts of money Draco could send her from time to time for her living. One day she'd run into Cornelius Fudge in Diagon Alley. He'd been late for an appointment and was in a lather because all of his meetings seemed to be conflicting. They'd spoken briefly and Narcissa had found that his social secretary had quit to join her husband overseas, leaving Fudge to try to manage his own appointments. He was up to his neck in missed, rescheduled and double engagements. He said vaguely that he didn't know how he was going to manage. Then he was off. But he'd given Narcissa an idea.
She had dredged up the last remaining nice set of robes she had, splurged on a haircut and manicure, and had shown up, unannounced at Fudge's office a few days later. He'd looked bewildered at her presence and she'd just smiled sweetly, saying, "Why, Cornelius, don't you remember you asked me to pop over and interview for the social secretary position?"
He'd accepted her explanation and had given her what seemed like hundreds of scraps of notes with appointments and meetings scribbled on them. "See what you can make of that, and let me know after lunch."
He'd grabbed his cloak and been off. Narcissa had sat down with a large desk blotter-styled calendar and had painstakingly lined up all the appointments. Then she studied what she had. Several times there were relatively unimportant meetings conflicting with more important appointments. She took another page of the blotter, and with the help of the hearth and Fudge's personal owl, began rearranging appointments. Some of the people she contacted were surprised at seeing her in their fireplace, or answering an owl with her name, but most of them seemed to accept it without question.
Fudge finally returned several hours later. He looked a bit surprised that she was still there, but after she showed him what she'd done, how she'd prioritized his meetings and his new schedule, he beamed at her and offered her the job. She asked for a higher salary than his previous secretary, citing her previous social connections as making her more qualified than the other woman. Surprisingly, he'd agreed.
Once her position was secure financially, Narcissa decided it was time to let Draco get on with his own life and not worry about taking care of her. She'd sent him a letter (which obviously Fudge's owl was too lazy to carry all the way, since he'd never received it) telling him what was happening. She got two more letters from Draco, but at that time the fighting had been worsening and she didn't want to distract him from what he was doing. She decided to wait until he was home safely before writing again.
"I guess it sounds silly to you, but it made perfect sense to me at the time," she said, a bit petulantly.
It would, Draco thought, just a little annoyed. He'd been worried sick, but she hadn't written so he wouldn't worry. He shook his head slightly.
"I still don't understand how you got the job with Fudge in the first place. I mean, no offense, but I just didn't think—," he trailed off.
"That I was smart enough?" she smiled to take the sting from the words. "Don't worry, I didn't think I was smart enough, either. But I'm just not as stupid as your father, I mean, my husband made me, and you, think I was. After almost twenty years of having to juggle the dinner invitations and seating arrangements of the magical world's most evil, notorious and disgustingly rich, nobody knows precedence and protocol like I do!"
Draco had to laugh at the determined sound of her voice. This really was a new Narcissa Malfoy. He found he didn't miss the old one a bit!
"And I'm not helpless, son. Molly Weasley taught me that. She showed me that I could take care of myself so you wouldn 't have to worry about me. She is a strong woman, and taught me to be as strong as I could. I wouldn't be surprised if her daughter was the same."
Narcissa gave Draco a speculative look. He looked away uncomfortably. He'd given her a brief explanation of why he was leaving Hogwarts, but had never gone into great detail. But rumour being what it was, it was fairly certain his mother had heard some version of the actual events. Did she find it odd that he ended up in Virginia's hospital?
"I should be yelling at you for what you did to her, but it caused the break from your father, so I can only thank the fates that she had the courage to stand up to you! What were you thinking?
Draco withered under his mother's glare. Even though it was four years ago, this was the first time he'd discussed it with her face to face.
"I had a lot of time to think, Mother. And the truth is that I wanted her, odd as it sounds. I wanted her to notice me, to see ME, and not the boy she'd known for five years. Unfortunately, I didn't know how NOT to be that person. I thought she was ignoring me and it drove me mad!"
Draco stared blankly into space for a moment, then looked into his mother's eyes. They were soft eyes, so unlike his and his father's.
"And now," she asked gently, squeezing his hand.
"I want the same thing," he answered helplessly. "But I'm too late. She's going to be married."
Narcissa's brow wrinkled. "That's odd. Molly didn't—," she broke off, still looking confused. "Are you sure? She told you herself?"
Draco gave a bitter laugh. "No, Mother, she's not speaking to me."
He told her about the row they'd had earlier, and how he hadn't had a chance to explain. She reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a careful hug.
"Oh, my love, what are we going to do about that temper? If you'd just been calm, it wouldn't have happened. But cheer up! Why would she care what you said, if she didn't care about you? Give her time, let her cool down, then use that wonderful smile you save for special occasions."
She leaned back and smiled at him, but now Draco frowned.
"Its not that easy, Mother. I left without really saying goodbye. I didn't contact her at all in the last four years. And even you know I was a bad enough bargain when I was still rich. But now I have nothing! No money, no home, hell, I don't even have a job! What can I offer her now?"
"Oh," Narcissa said as if startled. "Did I miss something? You didn't tell me she was a gold digger. Well, that does change things, doesn't it?"
Draco gave his mother a glare. "She's not a gold digger. I never said that!" He looked away and sighed. "I don't even think she cares about money."
"Well, love, then why do you? You've had four years to get used to the idea of not being rich. Would you really let THAT keep you from the girl you love? Most people start out with nothing."
Narcissa gave Draco an uncharacteristic stern look. "I wouldn't put too much stock in this 'fiancé'. In fact, Molly told me her daughter was distressed that the man kept asking. He should learn to take no for an answer. And you! You're a Slytherin, aren't you? You're supposed to go after what you want! Do you want her or not?"
Draco gave his mother a surprised look. He'd never heard her talk like this before. It was as though she had suddenly grown up overnight. She wasn't the helpless little creature who'd been terrorized by her husband. He decided he liked this new version of Narcissa Malfoy. And maybe she really could take care of herself.
"All right, Mother, I'll try." He gave her a weak grin and took her hands in his. "But what if she tells ME no? Should I take no for an answer?"
She gave him a wicked grin. "Now, THAT'S a different story. You're a Malfoy, and you don't take no for an answer!"
Draco laughed weakly, then changed the subject. "How long can you stay?"
"Not very, dear," she answered. "It's a very busy time at the Ministry and I really had to dig my heels in to get today off. But by the time you're ready to come home, I'll have more time. Oh!"
She jumped off the bed and started slapping at her robe, searching the pockets. She finally found what she wanted and withdrew an envelope. Handing it to Draco, she said, "Happy Birthday, love. How does it feel to be twenty-two?"
Draco stared at the envelope for a moment. Damn, it WAS his birthday, and he'd completely forgotten! Taking the envelope, he grinned at his mother and opened it. Inside was a birthday card and some photographs. They were taken during the only vacation Draco had ever taken alone with his mother. They were at some seaside resort, laughing, building sand castles, and frolicking in the sea. Draco looked at the photos and felt a knot trying to form in his throat. They'd been so happy there, without Lucius to find fault, or to insult and browbeat or harangue them. Even though he'd been eaten up with guilt, Draco had secretly wished Lucius would just die so they could stay forever.
"Thank you, Mother," he said in a tight voice.
"I know you don't really have room for photos, but they don't take much space. But I'll take them back with me, if you'd like."
He gripped them tightly and shook his head. "No, I'd like to keep them."
Narcissa smiled. "I hoped you would. Now," she said, trying to lighten the mood, "tell me about what you've been doing."
They talked for some time, but Draco was careful to steer the conversation away from the Weasley family. His mother told him about her social life, what she did away from the office, and all the current gossip. She also said, almost guiltily, that there was a very nice man working in the Department of Travel, who had taken her to dinner a few times. Draco was glad to hear it. She deserved someone 'nice' after so many years of Lucius.
The lunch hour had come and gone. One of the medics brought a tray with enough food for both of them. It consisted of a delicious looking roast beef sandwich for Narcissa, and much to Draco's disgust, beef broth and biscuits for him. He knew his abused stomach couldn't handle anything else, but it didn't make it easier. After eating, Draco was feeling exhausted and sore, and he really had to use the bathroom. But he hadn't seen his mother for years, and she could only stay the day. Finally, though, Narcissa stood and smoothed her robes.
"I wish I could stay longer, love," she said, apologizing.
He waved it away. "We'll have lots of time, now," he said.
Narcissa leaned over to give him a brief kiss. When she straightened, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I'm so proud of you, son!" she said suddenly. "And remember, son, if she's worth having, she's worth fighting for. Just don't hurt the man." Then she hurried out of the ward.
Draco watched her go, then painfully got up and started to hobble toward the bathroom at the back of the ward. A medic saw him and cut him off, telling him he'd bring him a bedpan. Cursing, Draco got back into bed. If he weren't so damned tired, he would have pushed the issue. But he felt as weak as a newborn kitten.
When he finished and the bedpan was whisked away, Draco settled back to think. He didn't get a chance, though. A few minutes later, his second in command came by to chat and give Draco a letter the Master Healer had dropped off some time ago. Draco looked around hopefully, but Virginia was apparently long gone. He read the letter and gave it to the other man. They then discussed who would return to their camp to disassemble it, and who would go directly to London. Draco would be laid up for at least the next two days, so he left the arrangements in his friend's hands. The man finally left, and Draco settled back again, only to be interrupted by more of his crew. They wanted to make sure he was all right, and to say goodbye. Most of them were leaving immediately to London, but a few of them were going to their old camp. After they were assured that he was going to be all right, they finally left him, exhausted, to himself.
An older male healer came in and checked Draco over. He pronounced Draco as fit as could be expected, then gave him a draught to help with the pain that was creeping back in. After the man left, Draco settled back in his pillows to think about what had happened, and what his mother had said. He wanted to get things straight in his head while he was still thinking clearly. She seemed to think he might still have a chance with Virginia, and, as she had pointed out, he WAS a Slytherin and a Malfoy. He would just have to go after what he wanted. First, though, he had to get her to listen to him and the best way was to be holding her tightly in his arms, preferably covering her mouth so she couldn't talk back. And what better way of covering her mouth than with his own? Thinking of possible methods to get her where he wanted her, Draco fell asleep.
Ginny felt like she'd been run off her feet. After her conversation with Eric Timmons, she'd been everywhere, meeting with her staff, giving directions, and assigning tasks. She didn't remember it being so much work to assemble the camp in the first place, but that had been two years ago. She also had to deliver Malfoy's letter to him, but he was still visiting with his mother. Thankfully, she found his second in command, a large, burly Scot named MacGregor, and had given him the letter. He assured her that he would pass it along as soon as Mrs. Malfoy left. They got to talking and Ginny explained that she thought the letter would be 'marching orders' for the unit. Mac agreed. Ginny offered see if any of her staff would like to help with closing the unit's camp. He'd happily accepted, saying the more the merrier. Ginny said she would ask for volunteers and have them ready first thing in the morning. This was fine by him. His own crews would be leaving as soon as they got Draco's approval, but they'd be happy for any help Ginny's folks could give them. Normally Ginny would have asked Eric to make the arrangements since he usually volunteered to do those types of things anyway, but he was gone. He'd waited only long enough for Ginny to write his recommendation and he was off. His things were to be forwarded to his family's home for him.
Most of the patients were ready to be discharged. Ginny didn't like the idea of sending them back off when they could be comfortable here, but they seemed anxious to be gone.
Finally, with the more mundane duties taken care of, she took a few of her healers aside to discuss Malfoy's treatment. She'd hated asking one of them to take on her patient, but thought they would understand. One of the older men said he would look in on the young man from time to time, but he was planning to help Mr. MacGregor the following day, so she'd have to take him back then.
Well, Ginny thought, at least she had some time to compose herself before she had to face him again. She left the ward and headed for the women's tent and her cubicle. She didn't get far, though. She was halfway across the compound when a small group of wizards flew overhead and landed in the clearing. They looked very official, all wearing belted, uniform robes and carrying short clubs attached to their belts. Ginny rolled her eyes, knowing she would have to deal with these men before she could get back to her desk. She changed direction and met them as they dismounted their brooms.
"Gentlemen," she said courteously. "Welcome. What can I do for you?"
The men were looking around, as though assessing her camp. One man, apparently the leader, took in her robes and collar tab, and gave her a skeptical look.
"Master Healer Weasley?" he asked somewhat dubiously.
"That's correct," Ginny said, in a bored, superior tone that would have done any Malfoy proud. She'd found that her youth was a liability when working with military and Ministry officials. Assuming a somewhat arrogant manner with them from the outset made them easier to deal with. "State your business and be quick about it!"
Her commanding tone and the crisp order had the desired effect. The man and his companions straightened immediately and he almost snapped a salute.
"I've orders, Ma'am, to take control of the prisoners you treated. I understand there are three of them?"
Ginny almost slapped her forehead. She'd completely forgotten they had prisoners. She hadn't even looked at them today to clear them for transfer. She was careful not to let her expression change, though. She merely nodded and glanced quickly around. A few staff members had stopped to watch the proceedings and Ginny motioned to a pair of young female medics. The two had been friends before the war and had attended a small healing academy here in England before volunteering.
When they had approached, she turned to the man and said, "I'm sure you've had a long day already. These are Medics Nicola and Rhian. They will escort your men to the mess tent and see that they get something to eat. Would you like to join them or accompany me to the prisoners? I have to give them a final examination before I release them to you."
The man glanced at the attractive young medics with regret. "I'll come with you, Ma'am. But if its no problem, my men would be grateful for a break. We've been investigating yesterday's clash since early this morning."
Ginny nodded and spoke to the pair, who were on the verge of giggles at the attention they were getting.
"Nicola, please have someone send a tray over for…" she paused and looked at the man she'd been speaking to.
"Thornton, Ma'am. Sergeant Thornton," he supplied.
She smiled and said, "Have a tray sent to Sergeant Thornton at the containment area. This way, Sergeant."
Ginny led the way to the seldom-used containment area. They'd only had prisoners two or three times before. Fighting was generally very fierce, with few survivors. In fact, Draco's unit had had the most of any unit they'd treated. And, damn it, she was thinking of him as 'Draco', again. She concentrated hard on the sergeant, who was telling her the same thing. He was amazed at finding the bodies of four mountain trolls as well as some twenty other renegades. That Malfoy's band of twenty-three had overcome them, after being taken off guard first thing in the morning, was remarkable. And that with only one fatality and one serious injury! The man couldn't sing Draco's praises loud enough. It was difficult for Ginny not to snap at the man to just shut up, but she managed.
When they arrived at the containment area, Ginny took the sergeant and one of the guards with her. She quickly performed the examinations and pronounced the prisoners ready to be transferred. None of them had been injured more seriously than cuts and bruises, but they complained, nevertheless, that they weren't well enough to travel. Ginny brushed this aside and signed their paperwork.
The tray with the sergeant's food had just arrived, so he decided to stay and eat in the guard shack. Ginny left him to it.
She again headed to her tent and her reports, but was again stopped. Narcissa Malfoy called out to her.
"Master Healer! Miss Weasley!" she called.
In spite of knowing that Draco wanted nothing to do with her, Ginny felt nervous at speaking with his mother. She'd heard from her mum and the twins all about Narcissa and how she'd dealt with her sudden poverty and homelessness. How she'd gotten herself a good job and was now self supporting. And how she'd repaid every knut she'd every borrowed. Her mum actually liked the woman, amazing as it seemed. Narcissa Malfoy may have been helpless at one time, but that time was over. And she was the beautiful, elegant mother of the man Ginny was helplessly attracted to. Ginny smiled nervously.
"Mrs. Malfoy. Did you have a good visit with your son?"
"Oh, yes, it was wonderful," the older woman said. "But I wanted to talk to you about something else. I understand you're getting married, and with all your mother has done for me, I wondered if there was anything I could get for you. You know, as a wedding gift?"
Ginny only stared blankly at her for a moment. Then she said, "Married? Where did you get that idea?"
Now Narcissa looked confused. "Why, my dear, I was certain that nice young man who sent me to you this morning, what was his name? Timms, I think? Well, I was certain he mentioned it."
She said it all so innocently that Ginny fell for the act. Her face flushed and set into hard lines.
"He had no right," she said to herself. Any remorse she might have felt toward him evaporated instantly. Then she remembered Narcissa.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy," she said woodenly. "You were misinformed."
Narcissa smiled to herself, but only said, "Oh, dear, I'm sorry. Well, I must go now, but if you're in London, please stop and visit. And thank you so much for saving my son."
Ginny tried to brush it off, but Narcissa added, "Oh, I know any good healer could have saved his life, but I meant thank you for saving him from his father. Only you could have done that."
Narcissa quickly hugged Ginny, then held her at arm's length. "You might be able to do better than my son, but I don't think so. Come see me in London."
The elegant woman turned and hurried away. Ginny just stood and stared after her. She closed the mouth that had suddenly dropped open. Why on earth would Narcissa Malfoy say something like that unless she had some reason to believe Draco cared about her. She wouldn't, would she? Ginny didn't know what to think. She hadn't misheard what Draco had said, but maybe she'd misunderstood?
She wanted to go talk to him right now, but she saw Sergeant Thornton approaching, motioning to her. Biting back a sigh, she waited for him to catch up with her.
"Master Healer," he said in a much more respectful voice than he'd used at first. "I just wanted to thank you for your hospitality, and let you know that we're off now."
Ginny looked behind him and saw that the three prisoners seemed to be not only bound but under a restraining spell. One of the guards was holding a box containing, presumably, port keys back to the detention center in London. Each prisoner had two escorts for the trip back. She shivered slightly, knowing they were possibly headed to their deaths for treason. Looking back to the sergeant, she nodded.
"Is there anything else we can help you with?"
"No, thanks, ma'am. We'll just be off and out of your hair."
The sergeant nodded at her and turned back to his men. They all took up their brooms, took the port keys, and disappeared. Ginny moved back to her tent. She sat down with a weary sigh and looked at the stacks of paperwork which seemed to have multiplied in the hours that she'd been out. Then, resigned, she reached out and took the first report off the top of the pile.
Several hours later, Ginny had plowed through most of the stack. It was dark outside, and the growling in her stomach told her she'd missed supper. She didn't really have any idea what time it was, but she wandered over to the mess tent to see if she could get a bite. The camp felt eerily empty, even though only Eric had left as yet. She figured many people were saying their goodbyes to the friends they'd made, or packing the few personal items they'd accumulated.
One of the cooks was still in the mess tent and brought her a plate of food he'd kept warm for her. Ginny thanked him, but found that she could only pick at it. She wanted to go see Draco, but every time she thought about what he'd said earlier, her stomach knotted up. She finally decided to just look in on him, without speaking. She took her plate to the scullery, then headed to the hospital ward.
The ward was mostly dark and very quiet. Draco was the only patient left, and the duty medic was quietly doing paperwork at her desk. She jumped up when she saw Ginny, but Ginny waved her back down.
"How is the patient?" she asked.
"Been sleeping most of the evening," the medic told her. "He woke an hour ago, but he wouldn't let old Jonesy look at him. Was quite rude about it, too. Wouldn't take any supper either. He's asleep now."
The medic said it lightly enough, but the speculative look in her eyes made Ginny wonder what exactly Draco had said. She almost asked, but decided against it.
"If he was rude, you should have come to get me," Ginny said.
The medic sniggered. "Oh, Jonesy was up to his weight! Told the git he sounded like a three year old without a nap, then sent the git right back to sleep!"
Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sudden laugh that threatened to escape. She could see it, too. Obviously Draco Malfoy was still Draco Malfoy. Surprising as it seemed, she felt reassured that his bad temper had fallen on more people than just her. It mad her feel that perhaps his outburst earlier hadn't been a personal attack.
"I guess I'll just look in on him," she said, trying to sound casual.
The medic grinned. "Think I can take a bit of a break, then?"
Ginny smiled, thankful for the dim light that hid her blush. "Sure. I'll keep an eye on everything until you get back."
The medic left quickly as Ginny headed down the central aisle. His curtains weren't drawn, and she saw that he did seem to be sleeping. She moved quietly to his bedside and saw that he still looked pale and drawn. She took his wrist to check his pulse, and was delighted to note that it was strong and steady. She released his hand and glanced around. The basin was gone from the small table, but there was a birthday card propped against the water jug.
A birthday card? Ginny looked guiltily at Draco, then reached out and took the card from where it was propped. As she lifted it, several photographs slipped from inside the card. They fell to the floor and scattered at her feet. Ginny glanced up quickly, but Draco was still asleep. She hurriedly gathered up the photographs and almost stuffed them back into the card, but she glanced at the first one and stopped. It was an old photograph, no doubt of that. Draco looked to be about seven or eight years old. His hair was even whiter than it was now, and, without the muscle tone he would develop over the years, he was painfully thin. But his expression was something she'd never seen on him before. He was mugging for the camera and his arms were wrapped around Narcissa's neck, but he looked so HAPPY! As though he'd been caught on the best day of his life. Ginny looked from the photo to the living person, seeing very little of the little boy in the man lying asleep in front of her. She flipped through the photographs, seeing Draco and his mother obviously on holiday and having what looked like a wonderful time. Ginny noticed that Draco's father was nowhere to be found in the pictures, and wondered if that was why they seemed so happy. She felt her throat tighten as she wondered what had happened to that sweet, innocent little boy to turn him into the person she'd known in school. It hurt to look at the photos, so she returned them to the card and replaced it where it had been. She looked at him again and wished with all her might that she could do something to bring that smile to his face.
Draco stirred slightly, turning onto his side, and Ginny froze. Would he wake up? But, no, he slept on. She sighed and reached up to stroke back the hair that had fallen over his forehead. A stir from the front of the ward made her snatch her hand back. The medic had returned. Ginny gave Draco a last look and left the ward.
The following morning Ginny was up early. She would be losing half of her staff today to reassignment, and almost half of those left had volunteered to help MacGregor and his people, so they'd be off soon, too. Breakfast had been served very early and now most everyone was just hanging about waiting to say goodbye to friends or for the Master Healer to give them permission to go. Ginny made her own farewells and watched as her 'family' of the last two years left.
The camp felt quiet and empty. Ginny already felt lonely. She hadn't had any really close friends, but she'd come to love everyone here. Deciding she might as well shower and change, she grabbed her things and hurried to the bathroom. But there was no need to hurry today. There weren't enough people left in camp to have to fight for the hot water with. But she decided against a long, leisurely shower, wanting to get to the ward and finally talk to Draco. After she finished, Ginny returned to her tent to drop off her bath items and finish her last report. It only took a short time and she was hurrying to the hospital ward.
Draco woke up early to hear the medics and healers calling goodbyes to their friends. He felt groggy, as though he'd slept too long. Then he remembered the crusty old healer telling him not to act like a spoiled three year old before sending him to sleep again. Draco grinned. He had been acting like a spoiled child. He'd done it on purpose to get Virginia to come to him. But he hadn't figured on the old man knocking him out like that. He hadn't even bothered to tell Virginia, just drew out his wand and zap! Draco was asleep again. Oh, well, he would just have to try something else. He remembered when Virginia had locked him up all those years ago. She'd become frantic when he hadn't eaten and had actually threatened to force feed him. Draco shivered. He couldn't even look at fudge anymore without smelling lavender and feeling his body react to the memory of the sweet, chocolaty taste on Virginia's strong, slim fingers. Bloody hell, he thought with disgust as he felt a tightening in his groin and a stab of pain in his lower abdomen. He couldn't help but react to the memory even now. Especially now, because he could swear he smelled her scent and had felt her presence while he was sleeping.
This was pathetic, he told himself. Virginia Weasley was not speaking to him, and with good reason. She was going to marry that idiot unless he could talk her out of it. Hell, he hadn't even spoken to her in years. But here he was, stiff, miserable, aroused and she wasn't even here! After a few minutes the feeling passed, but he was now in a filthy mood again. He was sore, his muscles were stiff, and he probably smelled horrible. He wanted a hot shower (or maybe a cold one would be a better idea), and something solid to eat. If they brought him broth again, he'd probably end up chucking it at someone's head. At that moment, a cheerful voice called down the aisle, and one of the staff healers was walking briskly toward him, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl. This was not going to be a good morning.
Ginny entered the ward and glanced to where Draco should be lying, eating breakfast. Instead she saw a medic with a mop, and an angry, red-faced healer dragging bedding from the mattress.
"What happened?" Ginny asked, hurrying over.
"Oh, that Malfoy!" the healer snapped. "If he's fit enough to go tossing his breakfast about, he's bloody well fit enough to shove off!"
"He WHAT?" Ginny asked, seeing what looked like soup or broth still dripping from the curtains around the bed, the tray and bowl stacked haphazardly on the chair and the bedside table cupboard hanging open.
"What happened," she asked as the healer angrily tossed the bedding on top of the chair.
Ginny helped her make up the bed again with clean linen as the woman told her the story.
"Well, I come in, cheerful-like, you know? It was a beautiful morning and we're going home in a few weeks, right? So I collects Malfoy's breakfast, some nice broth, biscuits, and tea, and bring it along to him. When he sees it, his face goes a bit red. He takes the tray, polite-like, but as soon as my back's turned, he up and chucks the lot right at the wall! Broth and tea everywhere! Then he gets out of bed, grabs his clothes, and sort of growls that he don't need no bloody help to take a shower. Off he goes, leaving us with this mess to clean up!"
Ginny was torn between wanting to laugh at her healer's indignation and anger at Draco for upsetting her staff and disregarding her order to have someone help him to the shower. He'd been horribly rude to her personnel, and reminded her of the rich, arrogant git he'd been in school. She frowned and assured the healer she would deal with Mr. Malfoy. Something in her voice made the healer stop her, though.
"Well, now, ma'am, I was upset, to be sure, but Malfoy WAS polite about it. He said he'd clean up the mess he'd made when he was done, and even apologized for upsetting me. Take it easy on him, right? He's probably just one of those what don't take well to confinement. Most these military types love to give orders, but hate to take 'em."
Ginny gave her an odd look. "Well, are you angry with him or not?"
The healer gave Ginny a smile. "A man what looks like that, well, he's sorta hard to stay mad at, isn't he?"
Ginny sighed, but had to agree. It wasn't so much his looks, but the way he looked at you. Even after so long, she remembered the pull she'd felt when he said her name softly and looked into her eyes. Shaking herself, she excused herself and headed for the shower. Regardless of how polite he'd been afterward, he couldn't just go around bullying her staff and causing them extra work.
As she crossed the compound, Ginny again noticed how empty it seemed already. The shower and bathroom facility was, naturally, the farthest out from the camp, and it looked deserted. Ginny wondered briefly if she should wait for him to come out before confronting him, but she was afraid she might lose her nerve. Steeling herself, she pulled the door open and stepped inside.
Draco stood under the hot stream of water and cursed himself again. When Virginia heard about this latest incident she'd think him the stupid, bullying git she'd known in school. His damned temper was going to ruin everything. Which was stupid, because he hadn't had any problems controlling his temper until he'd gotten here. It must be a combination of jealousy, lust, and longing. He was right back at the middle of his seventh year, when he'd wanted her to see past the bullying exterior, but hadn't known how.
He gingerly ran the washcloth he'd snatched from the clean linen shelf over his abdomen, wincing as his fingers ran over the scar from his injury. It didn't really hurt right now, but it felt ugly. He glanced down and saw that it WAS ugly. It was an ugly, twisted knot of skin that would probably get smaller with time, but was disgusting right now. Frowning, Draco continued to wash, letting the hot water roll over him and work the stiffness from his muscles.
He was just about to turn the water off when he heard the door open and slam shut. He would have locked it, but he'd been too angry. Now he'd have to face some irate medic or healer bleating at him about being too weak to shower himself. He turned off the water, and then he heard her voice.
"All right, Malfoy, let's have it out now," Ginny said. Her voice sounded breathy to her, but she couldn't help it. She hadn't really thought she'd catch him naked. But the view she was looking at really was breathtaking. He was much more well muscled in the back and shoulders than she'd thought. His waist was slender, and his buttocks and legs were lean and tautly muscled. She couldn't help wonder what it might feel like to take the bar of soap from his hands and run it all over that long, lean body.
While Ginny waited breathlessly for Draco to turn around and face her, Draco was suffering from his own problems. The instant he'd heard her voice, he'd reacted again. And this time his reaction was stronger than before. The pull in his lower abdomen was much sharper. And he couldn't do anything except stand here, dripping, naked and with a monstrous erection! Could things get worse? He tried to act aloof, but knew he couldn't turn around. That would just show her how much she affected him.
"What kind of camp are you running here," he asked with a trace of his old drawl. "Do you always just walk in on a fellow when he's taking a shower? Aren't there easier ways to get your thrills, little weasel?"
Ginny gritted her teeth. "DON'T call me that, Malfoy. I told you once before that I'd smash your arrogant face in if you did, and I meant it!"
Draco remembered. That had been just before she'd gone and almost gotten herself killed! He looked over his shoulder and saw that she was standing much the same way. Her feet were braced and her hands were fisted. Her face was lightly flushed and the robe she wore was damp and clinging from the steam in the room. Dragging his gaze away from her, he forced himself to laugh.
"I'd like to see you try, little weasel. You shouldn't make threats you can't back up."
Idiot, he thought. He was supposed to be trying to get back in her good graces, but every time he opened his mouth, it just got worse and worse. He was about to apologize when he heard the distinct crack of a towel being snapped. He heard it a split second before he felt the hot, stinging pain of the towel as it struck his buttocks. With a small yelp, Draco spun around and saw her whipping the towel, HIS towel around in a tight circle, preparing to smack him again!
"You STRUCK me!" he bellowed, staring at her.
Ginny almost froze when he whirled around. She willed herself to focus on his face so she wouldn't become distracted by what she'd seen for a split second. His expression was angry and astounded, but other parts of him were telling another story. Ginny almost burst into nervous giggles. Clearing her throat and pulling the towel back in her hands, she said, "Oh, I'll do more than just strike you, Malfoy, if you keep calling me by that insulting name!"
She didn't know how he did it, but one second he was standing in the shower stall, glowering at her, and the next he had her by the shoulders, pinning her against the wall. Ginny looked helplessly up into his angry face. His hands moved from her shoulders to her neck, encircling it easily.
"What more can you do to me, little weasel," he asked, his voice suddenly low and rough. "You've already ripped my heart out with your vicious little claws. Are you going to tear it apart now?"
He felt the pulse beating rapidly under his thumbs, as he had before. But instead of fighting him off, or even giving him the blank look she had so many times before, Virginia brought a hand up to his bare chest. She brushed her hand down, tracing the light dusting of damp hair on his chest.
"So soft," she whispered.
Then she brought her eyes up to his. Her hands moved up to his neck and she held him as he was holding her. He felt lost when she closed her eyes and leaned toward him, her lips seeking his.
"Please, Draco, kiss me," she breathed softly.
Swallowing a groan, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. He crushed her lips with his mouth and she responded eagerly. His tongue brushed her teeth and lips until she gently sucked at it. Then he thrust it into her mouth, exploring every moist, warm nook he could reach. His hands moved down her back to her waist and he gripped her hips tightly. Ginny pushed her hips forward, wanting to feel him, hard and hot against her. Waves of heat were crashing over her, making her feel light headed and weak. Her now damp robes were clinging and hampering her movements, but created a delicious friction everywhere their bodies touched. She was sure her knees were going to give out when Draco pulled slightly away. He was breathing hard, and he leaned against her, resting his forehead against the cold wall behind her. Suddenly his body stiffened against her. He would have tried to pull away, but Ginny wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tightly.
"Damn it, Virginia. Let go." His voice was shaky but that didn't disguise the hurt in it when he said, "What would your fiancé say if he found you like this?"
"Well, I imagine he'd be quite upset, if I had a fiancé," she said, focusing on his chest.
Draco stopped trying to loose himself. "What about Timmons?" he growled, pulling her face up to look at him.
Ginny clicked her tongue. "What is it about him? Why does everyone seem to think I'm going to marry him?"
Draco gave her a skeptical look. "Um, probably because he told your brother and several other people that you said you would. That you wanted a June wedding."
Now Ginny tried to push away, but Draco had moved closer and was pressing against her again, making her want to blush and drag her clothes off at the same time. He seemed to be having the same thoughts, because his hands came up to the fastenings of her robe.
"Are you telling me that you're really not engaged? That you're not marrying that…" His voice trailed off as he ran his tongue from her ear to her neck.
"Stop it, Draco! I want to know…oh!" He'd slipped his hands inside the damp robe and was now brushing them over the slope of her breasts. His hard thumbs brushed over the stiff peaks, making her gasp.
"What, Virginia? What do you want to know?" he whispered, nibbling at her ear and driving her mad.
"Nothing," she sighed. "It's not important."
She ran her hands over his bare back and down over the smooth buttocks. He shivered as she brought her hands around to his front, before grabbing them and growling, "Let's get more comfortable!"
He dragged her over to one of the oversized benches and sank onto it, pulling her around in front of him.
"Let's get rid of these," he said, pulling at her robe. He dropped it on the floor and looked at what he'd revealed.
Underneath, she wore another, thinner robe on top of thin, silky cream coloured long underwear. He pulled the under-robe away and gazed up at her, his eyes dark with longing. She laughed nervously as he eyed the silky garments she still wore. She'd dressed for warmth, not seduction.
"Gods, you're so beautiful," he breathed, and in that moment, despite the long underwear and the fact that she was wearing plain white cotton underwear, Ginny FELT beautiful.
He ran his hands over the silky top and pants, leaving Ginny feeling hot and breathless. He cupped her buttocks and pulled her forward, burying his face in her soft stomach.
Hooking his fingers in the waistband of the pants and underwear, he dragged them down and caught his breath as she kicked off her shoes and stepped out of the garments. Suddenly, he pulled her onto his lap, with her legs straddling his. Ginny gasped again, but this time at the sudden contact between them. Draco was now working on the hem of the blouse when she put her hands on his shoulders and stopped him.
"What is it?" he murmured thickly, his hands still running up and down her spine. It was all he could do not to just lift her slightly and bury himself deep inside her warmth. He could feel her heat and wetness already and he'd barely touched her.
Ginny buried her face in his shoulder, embarrassed and afraid of his reaction to what she was about to say.
"I, er, I don't—," she stopped, not knowing how to say it.
Draco stiffened and pulled her away from him, looking into her eyes.
"What? You don't want to make love with me? Is that it?" Dear Gods, he prayed. Don't let her not want him!
"No!" she said quickly. "It's not that. I want to! It's just that I've never, that is, I don't know…" She broke off and tried to scramble from his lap. "Oh, hell," she muttered when he wouldn't let her go. "I'm a virgin! I don't know what to do!"
She sounded so forlorn that Draco had to smile. His heart started beating again.
"Then let me show you, love," he whispered, taking her hand and moving it between them. "Come love me, Virginia!" he whispered, covering her mouth with his.
A/N: Ack! Shades of Harlequin romances! Epilogue will be short and up in a few days. Amy, here is your happy ending. Sorry, but I'm really lousy at the love scenes, even the mild ones in 'Dragon Kisses' and 'Polyjuice Potion'. Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews and encourages. I'm going to finish 'Harry's Valentine', then probably try to write an original fic. Thanks again to everyone. Take care and I hope you enjoy the rest of this story (this chapter is really choppy, too much detail and not enough romance, but hopefully the end maked up for it.) K.
Chapter Sixteen
Ginny moved stiffly to the table and eyed the basin of water. Her fingers itched to snatch it up and dash the contents at this rude, arrogant, selfish son of a bitch! But she wasn't sixteen any more. She wouldn't let her temper get the best of her. Instead, she turned to him, focusing at a point just above his head.
"You're doing much better, Malfoy, if your volume is any indication," she gritted at him. "Much as I'd like to comply and, how did you put it? 'Ride a slow broom to hell,' I have things to finish."
She rolled up her sleeves and approached him, still refusing to meet his eyes.
"Virginia, let me—," he started, but she cut him off with a gesture of her hand.
"I'm going to examine you, Malfoy, then I'll assign another healer to finish your treatment. You should be ready to travel in a day or two. I understand you're a fast healer."
Draco reached out to take the hand she'd gestured with, but she pulled away, out of his reach.
"I'll stupefy you if I must," she said in a hard voice, then added more quietly, "I've done it before, you know."
"Gods, Virginia, just listen!" he said desperately. This was not going as he'd hoped.
"I heard plenty, Malfoy," she said stiffly, pulling her wand from her pocket. She aimed it ominously at him. "You had four years to get in touch with me, Malfoy. And practically the first words out of your mouth were to go to hell. I would say we have nothing to discuss!"
Draco looked from the wand to the hard glare she was giving him. She was dead serious! With a sigh he lay back and stared at the ceiling. She was right, of course. He could have sent her a note, a card, anything in the last four years, but he hadn't.
Ginny blinked hard, not wanting him to see how deeply his words had hurt. Then she got down to business. Putting the wand aside, she said, "If you'd pull up the shirt, I can look at your injury."
Draco listlessly lifted the hem up to his chest. Ginny had to fight not to gasp and cry at the bruising and redness she saw. She'd seen worse, hundreds of times, but no on anyone she cared for. After a moment, she reached out to touch the newly healed skin over the site of the injury. It looked taut, but not tight. And although it was warm to the touch, the area wasn't hot. She brushed away from the wound, feeling the redness, checking for warmth and tenderness. His face was tight, but he didn't seem to be in an inordinate amount of pain. The redness seemed to be mostly from bruising, not infection. Then, without warning, she stiffened her fingers and dug them into his abdomen, wanting to check the organs to make sure she'd repaired all the damage. A very small, mean part of her laughed when he sucked in his breath.
"Shit! That hurts!" he hissed, glaring at her.
"Good! If I was scraping you off the ceiling now, I'd have to go back in and do more repair work. You'll be sore for some time, and I want you to let your next healer know if you have any problems using the bathroom. I'd say that you'll be fine, otherwise."
She stepped back and rolled her sleeves down, watching him yank the shirt down.
"You're still covered with blood, and as soon as I leave, Amy or one of the other medics will help you get cleaned up."
"Like hell," he muttered.
Ginny didn't like the idea of lovely, bright, blue-eyed Amy with her hands all over him, either. But she shrugged.
"Fine, Malfoy. When you're feeling up to it, I'll have one of the male medics help you to the showers, and you can do it yourself."
Draco frowned at her, wishing she'd stop calling him 'Malfoy'. He felt like he was back in Hogwarts again. He considered trying to talk to her again, but the curtains rattled and the young medic stuck her head in.
"Excuse me, Master Healer, but there's a visitor for Mr. Malfoy. Says she's Mrs. Malfoy?"
Ginny nodded; she'd been expecting the woman. Draco widened his eyes and stared at the curtains. It couldn't be, could it? He looked at Ginny and saw that she didn't seem at all surprised.
At that moment the curtain opened and Narcissa Malfoy stepped into the cubicle. As Draco had said years ago, the woman was beautiful. But she no longer had that vacant, perfect beauty he was so used to. Instead, her hair was mussed, but cut flatteringly. Her clothes weren't new, and looked a bit out of date, but she wore them well and carried herself straight and tall. And instead of the dramatic, just got out of the salon make up, she had a bit of lipstick and a light touch of eye makeup. In fact, she almost looked like a young girl, except when you noticed the worry lines about the eyes and mouth. But she was still exceptionally pretty. Draco just stared, apparently unable to even greet his mother, so Ginny walked up to her and put her hand out.
"Mrs. Malfoy, I'm Ginny Weasley. I'm, er, I was your son's healer and I sent you the owl last night. Believe it or not, your son's silence is of a very sudden nature. There's really nothing wrong with his voice."
Narcissa brushed away Ginny's hand and wrapped her arms around the younger woman. She gave Ginny a firm hug, then stood back, tears in the bright eyes.
"So you're the one who saved my boy! Bless you, dear, bless you! And how is he?"
Narcissa looked toward Draco, but his expression was still one of surprise and disbelief. Shaking her head, Ginny took one of the woman's hands and led her to the bed. She might be angry and heartbroken, but her heart went out to this woman who had been through so much, if the stories her mum and the twins had told her were true.
"Why don't you ask him yourself, Mrs. Malfoy?" she said, giving Draco a look that should have incinerated him on the spot. "He really does have a voice, as we all have reason to know."
Why wasn't he talking? Couldn't he see his mum was worried?
Finally, Draco cleared his throat.
"Mother," he said in a soft voice. "I thought—I didn't think you wanted to see me—." He stopped and swallowed, glancing at Ginny.
"Er, I'll leave you two to talk. Mrs. Malfoy, just call if you need anything!"
Ginny hurried out of the cubicle, then headed down the aisle between beds, staring straight ahead and walking quickly. She didn't want to see the expressions on the faces of Dra—Malfoy's crew. As she left the hospital tent a young man hurried over to her with a pouch slung over his shoulder.
"Mail's in," he called, digging into the pouch and pulling out a large bundle tied in string. "There's some stuff from the War Department, too," he said helpfully, not at all bothered that he'd been nosing around the camp's mail.
Ginny took the bundle silently, wanting only to get away and hide in her small cubicle for a while.
"Guess everyone's excited about the news, huh? Ready to ship back home? If your owls have too much to carry, just leave me the bundle and I'll take it back with me tomorrow, right?"
Ginny gave him a small nod and watched him head off to where he'd left his broom. She sighed and looked at the top letter. It looked very official and was from the War Department's Personnel Office. The rest of the mail looked like reports, forms and other bureaucratic nonsense. Most personal mail came by owl, but official stuff, when there was lots of it, came by courier. Ginny wandered back to her cubicle and sat at the desk. She wanted more than anything to just lie down and think, or cry, or yell. But she had a lot of backed up paperwork, reports to file on yesterday's emergencies, and, now, mail to answer.
Opening the letter from the Personnel Office, she scanned it quickly, then read more slowly. They somehow already knew about the attack on Dra—MALFOY'S camp, and had sent a team to investigate. The threat of more attacks in this area was felt to be minimal, now, and his personnel were to return to London for release or reassignment as soon as they were well enough to travel. There was a letter for Malfoy, giving him, Ginny supposed, his instructions. Also, her own medical unit was to be cut in half, with Ginny deciding who would go and who would stay. Those remaining would be responsible for closing down the facility and having everything ready to be returned to storage within a fortnight. Then they would also return to London for reassignment. At the end of the letter, there was a last paragraph stating that a small, crack team of medics and healers was being formed as a mobile unit to accompany the few scouting units left in the field. All senior healers were asked to recommend at least one or two members among their personnel for this duty.
Ginny figured the War Department must be very confident that they had weeded out the resistance, if they were recalling so many personnel. Now she had to decide who to keep and who to let go. That was pretty simple. For the most part, those with families, husbands, wives, and children, would be returned first. She would keep the single people with her to help break down the camp.
She considered the last paragraph again, wondering which of her medics and healers might be interested. As far as she was concerned, they were all qualified; it was just a matter of volunteering. As she was considering, a voice called out to her from outside the cubicle.
"Gin—er, Master Healer, can I have a word?"
Ginny gave a silent sigh. She did not need Eric Timmons to make her day even worse. But she supposed they needed to talk. Straightening and smoothing her robes, she called, "Yes, come in."
Timmons entered, looking haggard and disheveled. His face was unshaven and he looked as though he'd slept in his robes. Ginny stood straight and firmly met his eyes.
"I just wanted to apologize for my behavior last night," he said, looking down at her. "I know I was out of line—."
Ginny didn't let him finish. "Out of line?! You went way past out of line and bordering on criminal! Damn, Eric, what were you thinking? Do you know that he was this close," she held up a hand with her thumb and forefinger a bare half-inch apart, "to just slipping away? Was that what you wanted? For him to die?"
Timmons' eyes grew wide. "No way! I didn't do anything but talk to him! It's impossible!"
Ginny shook her head in frustration. "Gods, Eric, didn't you listen in school? Didn't you believe what you taught us at Hogwarts? 'We can be the best healers in the world, but if the patient wants to die, he will.' I don't know all you said, but when you left, he wanted to die!"
Instead of looking horrified, Timmons looked enraged. Enraged and jealous. He took a step toward Ginny and now towered over her.
"And what sweet promises did you make to bring him back? Huh? Four long years I waited for you to forget him. But all it took was a word from that spoiled, selfish bastard and you're ready to just drop everything for him, right? Even your pants, I suppose. I didn't even rate a kiss, but what did you offer him?" He sneered as he continued. "I guess I just wasn't rich enough for you, was that it? Couldn't see yourself settling for a medic's salary when you could have a mansion and all the trappings."
Even though he hadn't touched her, Ginny reeled back as if he'd struck her. She felt her chest tightening and knew she'd be in tears soon if she didn't get him out of here. She looked up and saw that he was finally looking horrified, as though he realized he'd just gone too far. She reached out to steady herself and her hand touched the letter she'd just received. Snatching it up, she finally got a hold of herself.
Timmons reached out for her, but Ginny put the desk's chair between them. Her voice was shaky when she spoke.
"Don't even think it, Medic Timmons. I don't have anything personal to say to you. Obviously, you can't continue here, so I'll give you a choice."
She briefly told him he could either be released to London, or could be sent to the mobile unit that was being formed. Her voice grew steadier as she spoke, and it held no room for argument. "Of course," she added in a hard voice, "whichever you choose, no mention of our previous conversation will be made, as long as you leave immediately."
She watched the different emotions play across his face, but he really didn't have any choice. His shoulders slumped.
"Fine, send me to the field unit. Maybe I'll be lucky and get killed."
He turned abruptly on his heel and was gone.
Ginny sat on her bed, revulsion causing her to shake. Gods, the things he'd said had been so disgusting, so hurtful! How could he say he cared, then say things like that? He couldn't have cared that much, could he? Could this day get any worse, she wondered? Feeling unbelievably weary, Ginny laid back and closed her eyes.
"Mother, what are you doing here? Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my letters?"
Draco still felt overwhelmed by the shock of seeing his mother. She looked older than he remembered, but she looked more alive than he'd ever seen her. Alive and, well, THERE! She looked like she was all there, not just some vacant eyed zombie on his fath—Lucius Malfoy's arm.
She laughed, a childlike, tinkling sound that lifted his spirits. He'd never heard her laugh like that before, either!
"Which should I answer first?" she asked. "Where should I start?"
Draco took on of her hands and pulled her onto his mattress. "Start from when you stopped answering my letters!" he ordered.
"All right, let me think." Narcissa put a slender finger to her chin and looked up at the ceiling, as though the answer was printed there. "Ah, yes, about two years ago."
She had drifted from one menial job to the next, determined not to rely on the kindness of the Weasleys and their friends, or the small amounts of money Draco could send her from time to time for her living. One day she'd run into Cornelius Fudge in Diagon Alley. He'd been late for an appointment and was in a lather because all of his meetings seemed to be conflicting. They'd spoken briefly and Narcissa had found that his social secretary had quit to join her husband overseas, leaving Fudge to try to manage his own appointments. He was up to his neck in missed, rescheduled and double engagements. He said vaguely that he didn't know how he was going to manage. Then he was off. But he'd given Narcissa an idea.
She had dredged up the last remaining nice set of robes she had, splurged on a haircut and manicure, and had shown up, unannounced at Fudge's office a few days later. He'd looked bewildered at her presence and she'd just smiled sweetly, saying, "Why, Cornelius, don't you remember you asked me to pop over and interview for the social secretary position?"
He'd accepted her explanation and had given her what seemed like hundreds of scraps of notes with appointments and meetings scribbled on them. "See what you can make of that, and let me know after lunch."
He'd grabbed his cloak and been off. Narcissa had sat down with a large desk blotter-styled calendar and had painstakingly lined up all the appointments. Then she studied what she had. Several times there were relatively unimportant meetings conflicting with more important appointments. She took another page of the blotter, and with the help of the hearth and Fudge's personal owl, began rearranging appointments. Some of the people she contacted were surprised at seeing her in their fireplace, or answering an owl with her name, but most of them seemed to accept it without question.
Fudge finally returned several hours later. He looked a bit surprised that she was still there, but after she showed him what she'd done, how she'd prioritized his meetings and his new schedule, he beamed at her and offered her the job. She asked for a higher salary than his previous secretary, citing her previous social connections as making her more qualified than the other woman. Surprisingly, he'd agreed.
Once her position was secure financially, Narcissa decided it was time to let Draco get on with his own life and not worry about taking care of her. She'd sent him a letter (which obviously Fudge's owl was too lazy to carry all the way, since he'd never received it) telling him what was happening. She got two more letters from Draco, but at that time the fighting had been worsening and she didn't want to distract him from what he was doing. She decided to wait until he was home safely before writing again.
"I guess it sounds silly to you, but it made perfect sense to me at the time," she said, a bit petulantly.
It would, Draco thought, just a little annoyed. He'd been worried sick, but she hadn't written so he wouldn't worry. He shook his head slightly.
"I still don't understand how you got the job with Fudge in the first place. I mean, no offense, but I just didn't think—," he trailed off.
"That I was smart enough?" she smiled to take the sting from the words. "Don't worry, I didn't think I was smart enough, either. But I'm just not as stupid as your father, I mean, my husband made me, and you, think I was. After almost twenty years of having to juggle the dinner invitations and seating arrangements of the magical world's most evil, notorious and disgustingly rich, nobody knows precedence and protocol like I do!"
Draco had to laugh at the determined sound of her voice. This really was a new Narcissa Malfoy. He found he didn't miss the old one a bit!
"And I'm not helpless, son. Molly Weasley taught me that. She showed me that I could take care of myself so you wouldn 't have to worry about me. She is a strong woman, and taught me to be as strong as I could. I wouldn't be surprised if her daughter was the same."
Narcissa gave Draco a speculative look. He looked away uncomfortably. He'd given her a brief explanation of why he was leaving Hogwarts, but had never gone into great detail. But rumour being what it was, it was fairly certain his mother had heard some version of the actual events. Did she find it odd that he ended up in Virginia's hospital?
"I should be yelling at you for what you did to her, but it caused the break from your father, so I can only thank the fates that she had the courage to stand up to you! What were you thinking?
Draco withered under his mother's glare. Even though it was four years ago, this was the first time he'd discussed it with her face to face.
"I had a lot of time to think, Mother. And the truth is that I wanted her, odd as it sounds. I wanted her to notice me, to see ME, and not the boy she'd known for five years. Unfortunately, I didn't know how NOT to be that person. I thought she was ignoring me and it drove me mad!"
Draco stared blankly into space for a moment, then looked into his mother's eyes. They were soft eyes, so unlike his and his father's.
"And now," she asked gently, squeezing his hand.
"I want the same thing," he answered helplessly. "But I'm too late. She's going to be married."
Narcissa's brow wrinkled. "That's odd. Molly didn't—," she broke off, still looking confused. "Are you sure? She told you herself?"
Draco gave a bitter laugh. "No, Mother, she's not speaking to me."
He told her about the row they'd had earlier, and how he hadn't had a chance to explain. She reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a careful hug.
"Oh, my love, what are we going to do about that temper? If you'd just been calm, it wouldn't have happened. But cheer up! Why would she care what you said, if she didn't care about you? Give her time, let her cool down, then use that wonderful smile you save for special occasions."
She leaned back and smiled at him, but now Draco frowned.
"Its not that easy, Mother. I left without really saying goodbye. I didn't contact her at all in the last four years. And even you know I was a bad enough bargain when I was still rich. But now I have nothing! No money, no home, hell, I don't even have a job! What can I offer her now?"
"Oh," Narcissa said as if startled. "Did I miss something? You didn't tell me she was a gold digger. Well, that does change things, doesn't it?"
Draco gave his mother a glare. "She's not a gold digger. I never said that!" He looked away and sighed. "I don't even think she cares about money."
"Well, love, then why do you? You've had four years to get used to the idea of not being rich. Would you really let THAT keep you from the girl you love? Most people start out with nothing."
Narcissa gave Draco an uncharacteristic stern look. "I wouldn't put too much stock in this 'fiancé'. In fact, Molly told me her daughter was distressed that the man kept asking. He should learn to take no for an answer. And you! You're a Slytherin, aren't you? You're supposed to go after what you want! Do you want her or not?"
Draco gave his mother a surprised look. He'd never heard her talk like this before. It was as though she had suddenly grown up overnight. She wasn't the helpless little creature who'd been terrorized by her husband. He decided he liked this new version of Narcissa Malfoy. And maybe she really could take care of herself.
"All right, Mother, I'll try." He gave her a weak grin and took her hands in his. "But what if she tells ME no? Should I take no for an answer?"
She gave him a wicked grin. "Now, THAT'S a different story. You're a Malfoy, and you don't take no for an answer!"
Draco laughed weakly, then changed the subject. "How long can you stay?"
"Not very, dear," she answered. "It's a very busy time at the Ministry and I really had to dig my heels in to get today off. But by the time you're ready to come home, I'll have more time. Oh!"
She jumped off the bed and started slapping at her robe, searching the pockets. She finally found what she wanted and withdrew an envelope. Handing it to Draco, she said, "Happy Birthday, love. How does it feel to be twenty-two?"
Draco stared at the envelope for a moment. Damn, it WAS his birthday, and he'd completely forgotten! Taking the envelope, he grinned at his mother and opened it. Inside was a birthday card and some photographs. They were taken during the only vacation Draco had ever taken alone with his mother. They were at some seaside resort, laughing, building sand castles, and frolicking in the sea. Draco looked at the photos and felt a knot trying to form in his throat. They'd been so happy there, without Lucius to find fault, or to insult and browbeat or harangue them. Even though he'd been eaten up with guilt, Draco had secretly wished Lucius would just die so they could stay forever.
"Thank you, Mother," he said in a tight voice.
"I know you don't really have room for photos, but they don't take much space. But I'll take them back with me, if you'd like."
He gripped them tightly and shook his head. "No, I'd like to keep them."
Narcissa smiled. "I hoped you would. Now," she said, trying to lighten the mood, "tell me about what you've been doing."
They talked for some time, but Draco was careful to steer the conversation away from the Weasley family. His mother told him about her social life, what she did away from the office, and all the current gossip. She also said, almost guiltily, that there was a very nice man working in the Department of Travel, who had taken her to dinner a few times. Draco was glad to hear it. She deserved someone 'nice' after so many years of Lucius.
The lunch hour had come and gone. One of the medics brought a tray with enough food for both of them. It consisted of a delicious looking roast beef sandwich for Narcissa, and much to Draco's disgust, beef broth and biscuits for him. He knew his abused stomach couldn't handle anything else, but it didn't make it easier. After eating, Draco was feeling exhausted and sore, and he really had to use the bathroom. But he hadn't seen his mother for years, and she could only stay the day. Finally, though, Narcissa stood and smoothed her robes.
"I wish I could stay longer, love," she said, apologizing.
He waved it away. "We'll have lots of time, now," he said.
Narcissa leaned over to give him a brief kiss. When she straightened, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I'm so proud of you, son!" she said suddenly. "And remember, son, if she's worth having, she's worth fighting for. Just don't hurt the man." Then she hurried out of the ward.
Draco watched her go, then painfully got up and started to hobble toward the bathroom at the back of the ward. A medic saw him and cut him off, telling him he'd bring him a bedpan. Cursing, Draco got back into bed. If he weren't so damned tired, he would have pushed the issue. But he felt as weak as a newborn kitten.
When he finished and the bedpan was whisked away, Draco settled back to think. He didn't get a chance, though. A few minutes later, his second in command came by to chat and give Draco a letter the Master Healer had dropped off some time ago. Draco looked around hopefully, but Virginia was apparently long gone. He read the letter and gave it to the other man. They then discussed who would return to their camp to disassemble it, and who would go directly to London. Draco would be laid up for at least the next two days, so he left the arrangements in his friend's hands. The man finally left, and Draco settled back again, only to be interrupted by more of his crew. They wanted to make sure he was all right, and to say goodbye. Most of them were leaving immediately to London, but a few of them were going to their old camp. After they were assured that he was going to be all right, they finally left him, exhausted, to himself.
An older male healer came in and checked Draco over. He pronounced Draco as fit as could be expected, then gave him a draught to help with the pain that was creeping back in. After the man left, Draco settled back in his pillows to think about what had happened, and what his mother had said. He wanted to get things straight in his head while he was still thinking clearly. She seemed to think he might still have a chance with Virginia, and, as she had pointed out, he WAS a Slytherin and a Malfoy. He would just have to go after what he wanted. First, though, he had to get her to listen to him and the best way was to be holding her tightly in his arms, preferably covering her mouth so she couldn't talk back. And what better way of covering her mouth than with his own? Thinking of possible methods to get her where he wanted her, Draco fell asleep.
Ginny felt like she'd been run off her feet. After her conversation with Eric Timmons, she'd been everywhere, meeting with her staff, giving directions, and assigning tasks. She didn't remember it being so much work to assemble the camp in the first place, but that had been two years ago. She also had to deliver Malfoy's letter to him, but he was still visiting with his mother. Thankfully, she found his second in command, a large, burly Scot named MacGregor, and had given him the letter. He assured her that he would pass it along as soon as Mrs. Malfoy left. They got to talking and Ginny explained that she thought the letter would be 'marching orders' for the unit. Mac agreed. Ginny offered see if any of her staff would like to help with closing the unit's camp. He'd happily accepted, saying the more the merrier. Ginny said she would ask for volunteers and have them ready first thing in the morning. This was fine by him. His own crews would be leaving as soon as they got Draco's approval, but they'd be happy for any help Ginny's folks could give them. Normally Ginny would have asked Eric to make the arrangements since he usually volunteered to do those types of things anyway, but he was gone. He'd waited only long enough for Ginny to write his recommendation and he was off. His things were to be forwarded to his family's home for him.
Most of the patients were ready to be discharged. Ginny didn't like the idea of sending them back off when they could be comfortable here, but they seemed anxious to be gone.
Finally, with the more mundane duties taken care of, she took a few of her healers aside to discuss Malfoy's treatment. She'd hated asking one of them to take on her patient, but thought they would understand. One of the older men said he would look in on the young man from time to time, but he was planning to help Mr. MacGregor the following day, so she'd have to take him back then.
Well, Ginny thought, at least she had some time to compose herself before she had to face him again. She left the ward and headed for the women's tent and her cubicle. She didn't get far, though. She was halfway across the compound when a small group of wizards flew overhead and landed in the clearing. They looked very official, all wearing belted, uniform robes and carrying short clubs attached to their belts. Ginny rolled her eyes, knowing she would have to deal with these men before she could get back to her desk. She changed direction and met them as they dismounted their brooms.
"Gentlemen," she said courteously. "Welcome. What can I do for you?"
The men were looking around, as though assessing her camp. One man, apparently the leader, took in her robes and collar tab, and gave her a skeptical look.
"Master Healer Weasley?" he asked somewhat dubiously.
"That's correct," Ginny said, in a bored, superior tone that would have done any Malfoy proud. She'd found that her youth was a liability when working with military and Ministry officials. Assuming a somewhat arrogant manner with them from the outset made them easier to deal with. "State your business and be quick about it!"
Her commanding tone and the crisp order had the desired effect. The man and his companions straightened immediately and he almost snapped a salute.
"I've orders, Ma'am, to take control of the prisoners you treated. I understand there are three of them?"
Ginny almost slapped her forehead. She'd completely forgotten they had prisoners. She hadn't even looked at them today to clear them for transfer. She was careful not to let her expression change, though. She merely nodded and glanced quickly around. A few staff members had stopped to watch the proceedings and Ginny motioned to a pair of young female medics. The two had been friends before the war and had attended a small healing academy here in England before volunteering.
When they had approached, she turned to the man and said, "I'm sure you've had a long day already. These are Medics Nicola and Rhian. They will escort your men to the mess tent and see that they get something to eat. Would you like to join them or accompany me to the prisoners? I have to give them a final examination before I release them to you."
The man glanced at the attractive young medics with regret. "I'll come with you, Ma'am. But if its no problem, my men would be grateful for a break. We've been investigating yesterday's clash since early this morning."
Ginny nodded and spoke to the pair, who were on the verge of giggles at the attention they were getting.
"Nicola, please have someone send a tray over for…" she paused and looked at the man she'd been speaking to.
"Thornton, Ma'am. Sergeant Thornton," he supplied.
She smiled and said, "Have a tray sent to Sergeant Thornton at the containment area. This way, Sergeant."
Ginny led the way to the seldom-used containment area. They'd only had prisoners two or three times before. Fighting was generally very fierce, with few survivors. In fact, Draco's unit had had the most of any unit they'd treated. And, damn it, she was thinking of him as 'Draco', again. She concentrated hard on the sergeant, who was telling her the same thing. He was amazed at finding the bodies of four mountain trolls as well as some twenty other renegades. That Malfoy's band of twenty-three had overcome them, after being taken off guard first thing in the morning, was remarkable. And that with only one fatality and one serious injury! The man couldn't sing Draco's praises loud enough. It was difficult for Ginny not to snap at the man to just shut up, but she managed.
When they arrived at the containment area, Ginny took the sergeant and one of the guards with her. She quickly performed the examinations and pronounced the prisoners ready to be transferred. None of them had been injured more seriously than cuts and bruises, but they complained, nevertheless, that they weren't well enough to travel. Ginny brushed this aside and signed their paperwork.
The tray with the sergeant's food had just arrived, so he decided to stay and eat in the guard shack. Ginny left him to it.
She again headed to her tent and her reports, but was again stopped. Narcissa Malfoy called out to her.
"Master Healer! Miss Weasley!" she called.
In spite of knowing that Draco wanted nothing to do with her, Ginny felt nervous at speaking with his mother. She'd heard from her mum and the twins all about Narcissa and how she'd dealt with her sudden poverty and homelessness. How she'd gotten herself a good job and was now self supporting. And how she'd repaid every knut she'd every borrowed. Her mum actually liked the woman, amazing as it seemed. Narcissa Malfoy may have been helpless at one time, but that time was over. And she was the beautiful, elegant mother of the man Ginny was helplessly attracted to. Ginny smiled nervously.
"Mrs. Malfoy. Did you have a good visit with your son?"
"Oh, yes, it was wonderful," the older woman said. "But I wanted to talk to you about something else. I understand you're getting married, and with all your mother has done for me, I wondered if there was anything I could get for you. You know, as a wedding gift?"
Ginny only stared blankly at her for a moment. Then she said, "Married? Where did you get that idea?"
Now Narcissa looked confused. "Why, my dear, I was certain that nice young man who sent me to you this morning, what was his name? Timms, I think? Well, I was certain he mentioned it."
She said it all so innocently that Ginny fell for the act. Her face flushed and set into hard lines.
"He had no right," she said to herself. Any remorse she might have felt toward him evaporated instantly. Then she remembered Narcissa.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy," she said woodenly. "You were misinformed."
Narcissa smiled to herself, but only said, "Oh, dear, I'm sorry. Well, I must go now, but if you're in London, please stop and visit. And thank you so much for saving my son."
Ginny tried to brush it off, but Narcissa added, "Oh, I know any good healer could have saved his life, but I meant thank you for saving him from his father. Only you could have done that."
Narcissa quickly hugged Ginny, then held her at arm's length. "You might be able to do better than my son, but I don't think so. Come see me in London."
The elegant woman turned and hurried away. Ginny just stood and stared after her. She closed the mouth that had suddenly dropped open. Why on earth would Narcissa Malfoy say something like that unless she had some reason to believe Draco cared about her. She wouldn't, would she? Ginny didn't know what to think. She hadn't misheard what Draco had said, but maybe she'd misunderstood?
She wanted to go talk to him right now, but she saw Sergeant Thornton approaching, motioning to her. Biting back a sigh, she waited for him to catch up with her.
"Master Healer," he said in a much more respectful voice than he'd used at first. "I just wanted to thank you for your hospitality, and let you know that we're off now."
Ginny looked behind him and saw that the three prisoners seemed to be not only bound but under a restraining spell. One of the guards was holding a box containing, presumably, port keys back to the detention center in London. Each prisoner had two escorts for the trip back. She shivered slightly, knowing they were possibly headed to their deaths for treason. Looking back to the sergeant, she nodded.
"Is there anything else we can help you with?"
"No, thanks, ma'am. We'll just be off and out of your hair."
The sergeant nodded at her and turned back to his men. They all took up their brooms, took the port keys, and disappeared. Ginny moved back to her tent. She sat down with a weary sigh and looked at the stacks of paperwork which seemed to have multiplied in the hours that she'd been out. Then, resigned, she reached out and took the first report off the top of the pile.
Several hours later, Ginny had plowed through most of the stack. It was dark outside, and the growling in her stomach told her she'd missed supper. She didn't really have any idea what time it was, but she wandered over to the mess tent to see if she could get a bite. The camp felt eerily empty, even though only Eric had left as yet. She figured many people were saying their goodbyes to the friends they'd made, or packing the few personal items they'd accumulated.
One of the cooks was still in the mess tent and brought her a plate of food he'd kept warm for her. Ginny thanked him, but found that she could only pick at it. She wanted to go see Draco, but every time she thought about what he'd said earlier, her stomach knotted up. She finally decided to just look in on him, without speaking. She took her plate to the scullery, then headed to the hospital ward.
The ward was mostly dark and very quiet. Draco was the only patient left, and the duty medic was quietly doing paperwork at her desk. She jumped up when she saw Ginny, but Ginny waved her back down.
"How is the patient?" she asked.
"Been sleeping most of the evening," the medic told her. "He woke an hour ago, but he wouldn't let old Jonesy look at him. Was quite rude about it, too. Wouldn't take any supper either. He's asleep now."
The medic said it lightly enough, but the speculative look in her eyes made Ginny wonder what exactly Draco had said. She almost asked, but decided against it.
"If he was rude, you should have come to get me," Ginny said.
The medic sniggered. "Oh, Jonesy was up to his weight! Told the git he sounded like a three year old without a nap, then sent the git right back to sleep!"
Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sudden laugh that threatened to escape. She could see it, too. Obviously Draco Malfoy was still Draco Malfoy. Surprising as it seemed, she felt reassured that his bad temper had fallen on more people than just her. It mad her feel that perhaps his outburst earlier hadn't been a personal attack.
"I guess I'll just look in on him," she said, trying to sound casual.
The medic grinned. "Think I can take a bit of a break, then?"
Ginny smiled, thankful for the dim light that hid her blush. "Sure. I'll keep an eye on everything until you get back."
The medic left quickly as Ginny headed down the central aisle. His curtains weren't drawn, and she saw that he did seem to be sleeping. She moved quietly to his bedside and saw that he still looked pale and drawn. She took his wrist to check his pulse, and was delighted to note that it was strong and steady. She released his hand and glanced around. The basin was gone from the small table, but there was a birthday card propped against the water jug.
A birthday card? Ginny looked guiltily at Draco, then reached out and took the card from where it was propped. As she lifted it, several photographs slipped from inside the card. They fell to the floor and scattered at her feet. Ginny glanced up quickly, but Draco was still asleep. She hurriedly gathered up the photographs and almost stuffed them back into the card, but she glanced at the first one and stopped. It was an old photograph, no doubt of that. Draco looked to be about seven or eight years old. His hair was even whiter than it was now, and, without the muscle tone he would develop over the years, he was painfully thin. But his expression was something she'd never seen on him before. He was mugging for the camera and his arms were wrapped around Narcissa's neck, but he looked so HAPPY! As though he'd been caught on the best day of his life. Ginny looked from the photo to the living person, seeing very little of the little boy in the man lying asleep in front of her. She flipped through the photographs, seeing Draco and his mother obviously on holiday and having what looked like a wonderful time. Ginny noticed that Draco's father was nowhere to be found in the pictures, and wondered if that was why they seemed so happy. She felt her throat tighten as she wondered what had happened to that sweet, innocent little boy to turn him into the person she'd known in school. It hurt to look at the photos, so she returned them to the card and replaced it where it had been. She looked at him again and wished with all her might that she could do something to bring that smile to his face.
Draco stirred slightly, turning onto his side, and Ginny froze. Would he wake up? But, no, he slept on. She sighed and reached up to stroke back the hair that had fallen over his forehead. A stir from the front of the ward made her snatch her hand back. The medic had returned. Ginny gave Draco a last look and left the ward.
The following morning Ginny was up early. She would be losing half of her staff today to reassignment, and almost half of those left had volunteered to help MacGregor and his people, so they'd be off soon, too. Breakfast had been served very early and now most everyone was just hanging about waiting to say goodbye to friends or for the Master Healer to give them permission to go. Ginny made her own farewells and watched as her 'family' of the last two years left.
The camp felt quiet and empty. Ginny already felt lonely. She hadn't had any really close friends, but she'd come to love everyone here. Deciding she might as well shower and change, she grabbed her things and hurried to the bathroom. But there was no need to hurry today. There weren't enough people left in camp to have to fight for the hot water with. But she decided against a long, leisurely shower, wanting to get to the ward and finally talk to Draco. After she finished, Ginny returned to her tent to drop off her bath items and finish her last report. It only took a short time and she was hurrying to the hospital ward.
Draco woke up early to hear the medics and healers calling goodbyes to their friends. He felt groggy, as though he'd slept too long. Then he remembered the crusty old healer telling him not to act like a spoiled three year old before sending him to sleep again. Draco grinned. He had been acting like a spoiled child. He'd done it on purpose to get Virginia to come to him. But he hadn't figured on the old man knocking him out like that. He hadn't even bothered to tell Virginia, just drew out his wand and zap! Draco was asleep again. Oh, well, he would just have to try something else. He remembered when Virginia had locked him up all those years ago. She'd become frantic when he hadn't eaten and had actually threatened to force feed him. Draco shivered. He couldn't even look at fudge anymore without smelling lavender and feeling his body react to the memory of the sweet, chocolaty taste on Virginia's strong, slim fingers. Bloody hell, he thought with disgust as he felt a tightening in his groin and a stab of pain in his lower abdomen. He couldn't help but react to the memory even now. Especially now, because he could swear he smelled her scent and had felt her presence while he was sleeping.
This was pathetic, he told himself. Virginia Weasley was not speaking to him, and with good reason. She was going to marry that idiot unless he could talk her out of it. Hell, he hadn't even spoken to her in years. But here he was, stiff, miserable, aroused and she wasn't even here! After a few minutes the feeling passed, but he was now in a filthy mood again. He was sore, his muscles were stiff, and he probably smelled horrible. He wanted a hot shower (or maybe a cold one would be a better idea), and something solid to eat. If they brought him broth again, he'd probably end up chucking it at someone's head. At that moment, a cheerful voice called down the aisle, and one of the staff healers was walking briskly toward him, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl. This was not going to be a good morning.
Ginny entered the ward and glanced to where Draco should be lying, eating breakfast. Instead she saw a medic with a mop, and an angry, red-faced healer dragging bedding from the mattress.
"What happened?" Ginny asked, hurrying over.
"Oh, that Malfoy!" the healer snapped. "If he's fit enough to go tossing his breakfast about, he's bloody well fit enough to shove off!"
"He WHAT?" Ginny asked, seeing what looked like soup or broth still dripping from the curtains around the bed, the tray and bowl stacked haphazardly on the chair and the bedside table cupboard hanging open.
"What happened," she asked as the healer angrily tossed the bedding on top of the chair.
Ginny helped her make up the bed again with clean linen as the woman told her the story.
"Well, I come in, cheerful-like, you know? It was a beautiful morning and we're going home in a few weeks, right? So I collects Malfoy's breakfast, some nice broth, biscuits, and tea, and bring it along to him. When he sees it, his face goes a bit red. He takes the tray, polite-like, but as soon as my back's turned, he up and chucks the lot right at the wall! Broth and tea everywhere! Then he gets out of bed, grabs his clothes, and sort of growls that he don't need no bloody help to take a shower. Off he goes, leaving us with this mess to clean up!"
Ginny was torn between wanting to laugh at her healer's indignation and anger at Draco for upsetting her staff and disregarding her order to have someone help him to the shower. He'd been horribly rude to her personnel, and reminded her of the rich, arrogant git he'd been in school. She frowned and assured the healer she would deal with Mr. Malfoy. Something in her voice made the healer stop her, though.
"Well, now, ma'am, I was upset, to be sure, but Malfoy WAS polite about it. He said he'd clean up the mess he'd made when he was done, and even apologized for upsetting me. Take it easy on him, right? He's probably just one of those what don't take well to confinement. Most these military types love to give orders, but hate to take 'em."
Ginny gave her an odd look. "Well, are you angry with him or not?"
The healer gave Ginny a smile. "A man what looks like that, well, he's sorta hard to stay mad at, isn't he?"
Ginny sighed, but had to agree. It wasn't so much his looks, but the way he looked at you. Even after so long, she remembered the pull she'd felt when he said her name softly and looked into her eyes. Shaking herself, she excused herself and headed for the shower. Regardless of how polite he'd been afterward, he couldn't just go around bullying her staff and causing them extra work.
As she crossed the compound, Ginny again noticed how empty it seemed already. The shower and bathroom facility was, naturally, the farthest out from the camp, and it looked deserted. Ginny wondered briefly if she should wait for him to come out before confronting him, but she was afraid she might lose her nerve. Steeling herself, she pulled the door open and stepped inside.
Draco stood under the hot stream of water and cursed himself again. When Virginia heard about this latest incident she'd think him the stupid, bullying git she'd known in school. His damned temper was going to ruin everything. Which was stupid, because he hadn't had any problems controlling his temper until he'd gotten here. It must be a combination of jealousy, lust, and longing. He was right back at the middle of his seventh year, when he'd wanted her to see past the bullying exterior, but hadn't known how.
He gingerly ran the washcloth he'd snatched from the clean linen shelf over his abdomen, wincing as his fingers ran over the scar from his injury. It didn't really hurt right now, but it felt ugly. He glanced down and saw that it WAS ugly. It was an ugly, twisted knot of skin that would probably get smaller with time, but was disgusting right now. Frowning, Draco continued to wash, letting the hot water roll over him and work the stiffness from his muscles.
He was just about to turn the water off when he heard the door open and slam shut. He would have locked it, but he'd been too angry. Now he'd have to face some irate medic or healer bleating at him about being too weak to shower himself. He turned off the water, and then he heard her voice.
"All right, Malfoy, let's have it out now," Ginny said. Her voice sounded breathy to her, but she couldn't help it. She hadn't really thought she'd catch him naked. But the view she was looking at really was breathtaking. He was much more well muscled in the back and shoulders than she'd thought. His waist was slender, and his buttocks and legs were lean and tautly muscled. She couldn't help wonder what it might feel like to take the bar of soap from his hands and run it all over that long, lean body.
While Ginny waited breathlessly for Draco to turn around and face her, Draco was suffering from his own problems. The instant he'd heard her voice, he'd reacted again. And this time his reaction was stronger than before. The pull in his lower abdomen was much sharper. And he couldn't do anything except stand here, dripping, naked and with a monstrous erection! Could things get worse? He tried to act aloof, but knew he couldn't turn around. That would just show her how much she affected him.
"What kind of camp are you running here," he asked with a trace of his old drawl. "Do you always just walk in on a fellow when he's taking a shower? Aren't there easier ways to get your thrills, little weasel?"
Ginny gritted her teeth. "DON'T call me that, Malfoy. I told you once before that I'd smash your arrogant face in if you did, and I meant it!"
Draco remembered. That had been just before she'd gone and almost gotten herself killed! He looked over his shoulder and saw that she was standing much the same way. Her feet were braced and her hands were fisted. Her face was lightly flushed and the robe she wore was damp and clinging from the steam in the room. Dragging his gaze away from her, he forced himself to laugh.
"I'd like to see you try, little weasel. You shouldn't make threats you can't back up."
Idiot, he thought. He was supposed to be trying to get back in her good graces, but every time he opened his mouth, it just got worse and worse. He was about to apologize when he heard the distinct crack of a towel being snapped. He heard it a split second before he felt the hot, stinging pain of the towel as it struck his buttocks. With a small yelp, Draco spun around and saw her whipping the towel, HIS towel around in a tight circle, preparing to smack him again!
"You STRUCK me!" he bellowed, staring at her.
Ginny almost froze when he whirled around. She willed herself to focus on his face so she wouldn't become distracted by what she'd seen for a split second. His expression was angry and astounded, but other parts of him were telling another story. Ginny almost burst into nervous giggles. Clearing her throat and pulling the towel back in her hands, she said, "Oh, I'll do more than just strike you, Malfoy, if you keep calling me by that insulting name!"
She didn't know how he did it, but one second he was standing in the shower stall, glowering at her, and the next he had her by the shoulders, pinning her against the wall. Ginny looked helplessly up into his angry face. His hands moved from her shoulders to her neck, encircling it easily.
"What more can you do to me, little weasel," he asked, his voice suddenly low and rough. "You've already ripped my heart out with your vicious little claws. Are you going to tear it apart now?"
He felt the pulse beating rapidly under his thumbs, as he had before. But instead of fighting him off, or even giving him the blank look she had so many times before, Virginia brought a hand up to his bare chest. She brushed her hand down, tracing the light dusting of damp hair on his chest.
"So soft," she whispered.
Then she brought her eyes up to his. Her hands moved up to his neck and she held him as he was holding her. He felt lost when she closed her eyes and leaned toward him, her lips seeking his.
"Please, Draco, kiss me," she breathed softly.
Swallowing a groan, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. He crushed her lips with his mouth and she responded eagerly. His tongue brushed her teeth and lips until she gently sucked at it. Then he thrust it into her mouth, exploring every moist, warm nook he could reach. His hands moved down her back to her waist and he gripped her hips tightly. Ginny pushed her hips forward, wanting to feel him, hard and hot against her. Waves of heat were crashing over her, making her feel light headed and weak. Her now damp robes were clinging and hampering her movements, but created a delicious friction everywhere their bodies touched. She was sure her knees were going to give out when Draco pulled slightly away. He was breathing hard, and he leaned against her, resting his forehead against the cold wall behind her. Suddenly his body stiffened against her. He would have tried to pull away, but Ginny wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tightly.
"Damn it, Virginia. Let go." His voice was shaky but that didn't disguise the hurt in it when he said, "What would your fiancé say if he found you like this?"
"Well, I imagine he'd be quite upset, if I had a fiancé," she said, focusing on his chest.
Draco stopped trying to loose himself. "What about Timmons?" he growled, pulling her face up to look at him.
Ginny clicked her tongue. "What is it about him? Why does everyone seem to think I'm going to marry him?"
Draco gave her a skeptical look. "Um, probably because he told your brother and several other people that you said you would. That you wanted a June wedding."
Now Ginny tried to push away, but Draco had moved closer and was pressing against her again, making her want to blush and drag her clothes off at the same time. He seemed to be having the same thoughts, because his hands came up to the fastenings of her robe.
"Are you telling me that you're really not engaged? That you're not marrying that…" His voice trailed off as he ran his tongue from her ear to her neck.
"Stop it, Draco! I want to know…oh!" He'd slipped his hands inside the damp robe and was now brushing them over the slope of her breasts. His hard thumbs brushed over the stiff peaks, making her gasp.
"What, Virginia? What do you want to know?" he whispered, nibbling at her ear and driving her mad.
"Nothing," she sighed. "It's not important."
She ran her hands over his bare back and down over the smooth buttocks. He shivered as she brought her hands around to his front, before grabbing them and growling, "Let's get more comfortable!"
He dragged her over to one of the oversized benches and sank onto it, pulling her around in front of him.
"Let's get rid of these," he said, pulling at her robe. He dropped it on the floor and looked at what he'd revealed.
Underneath, she wore another, thinner robe on top of thin, silky cream coloured long underwear. He pulled the under-robe away and gazed up at her, his eyes dark with longing. She laughed nervously as he eyed the silky garments she still wore. She'd dressed for warmth, not seduction.
"Gods, you're so beautiful," he breathed, and in that moment, despite the long underwear and the fact that she was wearing plain white cotton underwear, Ginny FELT beautiful.
He ran his hands over the silky top and pants, leaving Ginny feeling hot and breathless. He cupped her buttocks and pulled her forward, burying his face in her soft stomach.
Hooking his fingers in the waistband of the pants and underwear, he dragged them down and caught his breath as she kicked off her shoes and stepped out of the garments. Suddenly, he pulled her onto his lap, with her legs straddling his. Ginny gasped again, but this time at the sudden contact between them. Draco was now working on the hem of the blouse when she put her hands on his shoulders and stopped him.
"What is it?" he murmured thickly, his hands still running up and down her spine. It was all he could do not to just lift her slightly and bury himself deep inside her warmth. He could feel her heat and wetness already and he'd barely touched her.
Ginny buried her face in his shoulder, embarrassed and afraid of his reaction to what she was about to say.
"I, er, I don't—," she stopped, not knowing how to say it.
Draco stiffened and pulled her away from him, looking into her eyes.
"What? You don't want to make love with me? Is that it?" Dear Gods, he prayed. Don't let her not want him!
"No!" she said quickly. "It's not that. I want to! It's just that I've never, that is, I don't know…" She broke off and tried to scramble from his lap. "Oh, hell," she muttered when he wouldn't let her go. "I'm a virgin! I don't know what to do!"
She sounded so forlorn that Draco had to smile. His heart started beating again.
"Then let me show you, love," he whispered, taking her hand and moving it between them. "Come love me, Virginia!" he whispered, covering her mouth with his.
A/N: Ack! Shades of Harlequin romances! Epilogue will be short and up in a few days. Amy, here is your happy ending. Sorry, but I'm really lousy at the love scenes, even the mild ones in 'Dragon Kisses' and 'Polyjuice Potion'. Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews and encourages. I'm going to finish 'Harry's Valentine', then probably try to write an original fic. Thanks again to everyone. Take care and I hope you enjoy the rest of this story (this chapter is really choppy, too much detail and not enough romance, but hopefully the end maked up for it.) K.