3. Stories in the Dark

It was about seven o'clock when Draco got to the Hospital Wing, after dinner. There was no one around, and Ginny still looked out to the world, but Draco still sat down and took one of her pale hands in his and stroked her thumb gently. Madame Pomfrey was out in her office, but Draco had a feeling that she wasn't going any where for a while.

Draco sat in silence for a few minutes before he began to speak. When he did, it was just simple stories that he knew he was only telling to reassure himself. But that didn't stop him. He began with a story from his childhood.

"When I was very small, I remember a man who used to visit mum when dad wasn't around. He had long, shaggy black hair, and soulful brown eyes. He was the kind of person who had been through a lot. He was very tall, and from the way I remember him, he was my mum's cousin or something. Anyway, he didn't visit when dad was home because he didn't agree with most of what dad said. He was a hero of mine, until I realised who he was. Do you remember those posters? The ones of Sirius Black, in Hogsmeade. I know you weren't allowed down to Hogsmeade back then, but maybe someone told you about them? Anyway, I had forgotten all about this man until I saw those posters. That's who he was. An enemy. Now I know why dad hated him, and why he had to visit in secret. Then Draco looked down at Ginny's hand and felt just a bit sheepish. I guess you don't want to hear about this, so I might just be quiet."

That's when he heard a voice, so soft that a cricket chirping would have drowned it out, but there was nothing to interrupt her here.

"Please, don't stop Draco." That was all she said, but it gave Draco heart and he knew that she was listening. So Draco picked another story and began to weave it for Ginny. Of course, the words weren't important for Ginny, it was the sound of his voice, more soothing to her then any potion could be.

Ginny lay in her own world, somewhere between pain and Draco, floating gently. There was a barrier between the real world and her, and no matter how hard she slammed into it, it wouldn't shatter. So instead, she focused on the one person who understood her feelings, the ones she liked to keep hidden. He was so different this year; there was a different kind of relationship between them now. He was someone who she could trust, someone she could go to when she didn't want to show the world anything.

He would understand. So she lent back into the pillows and felt the words rush over her body, felt her breathing slow, and felt herself slip back into the dreamlike state which accompanied the pain.

- -

Walking through the sliding doors that lead to the ward, Hermione heard a soft voice floating through the room. It was the kind of voice you could listen to all day, the kind of voice that could make anything the person was saying sound great. She tiptoed through the foyer, past the office in which Madame Pomfrey was snoring gently and into the ward. The person's face was obstructed by the curtains which hung on either side of the beds, but that didn't matter.

Hermione sat down, against the bare white washed wall and tilted her head back. Who ever they were, they certainly knew how to speak properly. Every vowel, every double letter was pronounced perfectly, every sentence ended definitely. Hermione was so enthralled she didn't notice the person get up, or start walking around the small room that served as Ginny's space.

What Hermione did notice was the green and silver tie that was hanging out of the person's pocket, the pale, cream coloured hands that fisted up as they walked. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind as to who the person was. So, as quietly as she had come, she slipped out of the door and away to Gryffindor Tower.

When she did reach the tower she was bombarded by questions. How was Ginny? Was she sleeping? Did she want to see him? Of course, you would think that these questions would come from Ginny's older brother, but no, they were directed at Hermione, from Harry. Ron was sitting in the corner, furiously scribbling on his parchment. He looked as if he couldn't give a damn about Ginny, but anyone who knew him knew Ginny was much more then just his sister.

Of course, deep down Ron cared a whole lot more then he showed. It was just the fact that everyone was so worried that made him back off. He knew Ginny liked to be left alone when she wasn't feeling well, so that was exactly what he was going to do. So, redipping his quill into the ink, Ron began writing at a pace so fast Hermione had to check if they were actually words he was writing, or just scribbles.

Meanwhile, in the Hospital Wing, Poppy was just checking on Ginny Weasley before she noticed that the poor Malfoy boy had exhausted himself. Madame Pomfrey gathered him up in her motherly way and placed him gently in the next bed. She would just let him sleep.

--

Draco Malfoy woke the next morning to find himself back in the Hospital Wing. There were fresh robes on the end of the bed, and, with a quick glance at his watch, he wasn't late. He quickly pulled off his black robes and replaced them with the fresh ones. Then he took off at a run, heading towards Herbology. When he did reach the glass houses that sat on the edge of the forest, he learnt that this lesson would be revision for the up coming quiz. He glumly pulled out a stool and listened to Professor Sprout about the uses of puffskien as a fertiliser.

After the bell rang to release Draco from the nightmare of a class, he had to sprint back up to the castle to Defence Against the Dark Arts. This was a boring lesson, with Professor Garabarth teaching them about jinxes. Since most of the class had been jinxed or hexed at least once, they were entertained with little notes or gazing into the still lake far below them. Draco was entertained by watching Potter and Weasley write in their Magical Beasts textbook though. They didn't seem to pay any attention to Granger, who was raving under her breath about how you shouldn't deface public property.

Draco snickered softly and was beginning to warn the Dream Team about Garabarth's temper when he found himself on the receiving end. Of course, Draco had been half listening and could answer his question easily, but that wasn't the point. He, the Slytherin prince, had been caught out! He swore at the professor's back and began to copy Greg's notes. This was one of Greg's favourite subject, and Draco knew he could bludge off Greg's notes.

As he did, he began to think about the malt coloured eyes he had been thinking about lately. The way they were so soft, like honey and the way the stare was directed at him, from underneath her beautiful eyelashes, which were so long.Suddenly he snapped out of his reverie. Weasley was laughing at him, and he had no clue why. Then he realised, instead of writing the notes that Greg had lent him, he was writing about how beautiful her eyes were. Of course, if Weasley knew who's eyes he was writing about, Draco wasn't sure if he'd have a nose anymore.

The day went rapidly down hill from there, and Draco found himself wishing for dinner during Snape's class, a class he usually loved. He couldn't concentrate, and Snape kept sneaking suspicious glares at him from the other side of the class room. Finally Draco found the bell was ringing and he felt himself share the enjoyment Potter and Weasley were celebrating. After all, two more weeks til the end of term was a good thing, right?

--

Hermione dragged a protesting Ron through the corridors until they reached the outside of the Hospital Wing. Then she shushed him and they crept into the ward room, where, sure enough, Draco was sitting, holding Ginny's hand. Ron began to yell but Hermione quickly performed the silence charm on him and made him sit down. Then they listened as Draco talked to Ginny, who still looked dead. Of course, Draco could see the improvement and so he just continued in his usual fashion.

Draco told Ginny about Defence against the Dark Arts that day, about how he couldn't stop thinking of her. Then he told her about how her brother and Harry were being idiots, but how something's he couldn't help but agree with.

Eventually, Ron and Hermione left, Ron being much more sedated and deep in thought, even after Hermione had taken the spell off. Draco, on the other hand, sat there all night, his voice growing raw after the last story, and he was about to take off and get some sleep when he found Ginny struggling to sit up. He lifted her up and stacked the pillows behind her and she smiled gratefully at him. Then she whispered something, so softly that Draco had to lean in to hear her. She grasped his warm hand and said just two words, but these seemed to have a tremendous effect on Draco.

Draco sat mulling over the thought before he got up and stretched.

"You know, he said staring into her face, I don't believe anyone's ever thanked me before. Thank you for that. I have to go though. Got to get my beauty sleep, you know."

He headed for the door, and as he turned back to wave, he heard her response.

"You'll need it.and you're welcome Draco." Draco smiled and shook his head slowly. At least Ginny was on the mend now. He could stop worrying so much now. Draco felt under his shirt and pulled up the small charm that sat on his chest. It was a small diamond, with a small 'g' formed with rubies. He kissed it softly and then headed towards the common room to do a bit of studying for the Herboligy quiz on Monday. --

Later that night Draco was leaning over his Herboligy textbook, desperately trying to cram when he realised that the page he was on wasn't even going to be on the quiz. He began to flip back, but stopped when his eyes caught the words

"This rose changes as your love for the receiver changes. It has many different colours, many different positions. They all mean something different. This is a Mystic Rose."

Draco stopped interestedly and read the whole page. Then he began to formulate a plan. After all, he was a Malfoy. The next day, he would get permission to go to Hogsmeade (it was a Saturday) and he would go to the florist there.

He shut his book carefully and made his way up to the Seventh Year Boy's Dorm. There he found Greg and Vincent, already snoring loud enough to make the Richter scale. The only person who wasn't asleep besides Draco was a room mate, by the name of Thomas Nott.

"Where've you been Malfoy? Off snogging some girl, I'll bet. Surely you could wait until tomorrow? Remember, it's a Hogsmeade weekend. Well, better pack it in. Big day tomorrow, if you know what I mean. Meeting Lisa Turpin down in The Three Broomsticks."

Draco could almost feel Tom wink across the room. He wisely didn't reply and instead busied himself with his blankets and fell asleep almost instantly, falling into a dream that involved Ginny, a Mystic Rose and, for some strange reason, Tom Nott.

--

Ok, you caught me. I don't own the Mystic Rose, does. I also don't own HP or any of the characters. There, happy?