BECAUSE OF YOU
CHAPTER TWO: OF TERROR
Flashback
He watched from afar, not necessarily warm, but dry under his umbrella, as the redhead stood in front of the lake, drenched from head to foot by the rain that was falling in sheets from the steel gray heavens. She wasn't wearing her school uniform, but had garbed herself in a gown of plain white cotton that was stained with mud on the bottom hem by her ankles.
He knew full well why he was outside at this time of night in such wretched weather; he was a prefect, and had been ordered to go look for the same redhead that was now walking slowly into the turbulent waters of the lake. But he wasn't sure why she was outside.
Her hair hung in dripping curls around her face and shoulders, and the gown clung to her body like a second skin. Being sixteen, and rather observant when it came to the female anatomy, he noted the fact that she had filled out quite nicely, and was no longer the scrawny eleven-year-old with carrot- red hair that he remembered her as.
She had stopped moving, and was now waist deep in the water. His attention drifted from her breasts, which he could see quite clearly through the soaked cotton, to a small piece of silver in her hand that caught the light from a flash of lightning above. In fascination, he watched as she held out her arm, porcelain skin bare and vulnerable. She turned her arm palm- upwards, and pulled her other hand across her bare wrist. He realized, as a steady, pulsating flow of crimson liquid left her wrist, what she was doing.
Dropping the umbrella, he sprinted towards her, reaching her as she slid the now-blood-soaked blade across her other wrist. A clap of thunder sounded above, followed almost immediately by a flash of lightning. He had to give the girl a bit of grudging respect; she couldn't have chosen a better time to try and kill herself. If she didn't drown, she would die of blood loss, and if she didn't die of either of those, she would most likely be electrocuted by the lightning. He had no doubts that she probably had some pills stashed somewhere, too, should none of the methods visible at present work.
Hell, he thought, she'd probably already taken something.
He knew; he'd seen it before, and nearly tried it before.
As she started to walk farther into the water, still unaware of his presence, the blonde grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back towards the shore. Oddly enough, she didn't struggle, and as he carried her onto the beach, he realized why; her body was completely limp.
She had taken pills then, he mused.
"Damn it, Weasley, you aren't going to die on me," he muttered aloud, pushing dripping blonde hair out of his face as he ripped off strips of his cloak to tie around her wrists in an attempt to stop the steady flow of blood, before picking her up like a baby and sprinting back towards the castle as fast as the rain-soaked lawns and his burden would let him.
"M-Malfoy?" Her voice was weak, her eyes glazed over.
He couldn't help but feel compassion for the girl in his arms, as he climbed the marble staircase as fast as he could.
"Ssh, Ginny, it's all right," he murmured, climbing each new flight of stairs with adrenaline-induced speed.
"T-t-tell... everyone......... I'm.................. sorry.... Draco........." Her breathing was labored, her voice barely audible, and he knew she was almost gone.
She was hardly anything more than an empty vessel in his arms now, and he burst into the Hospital Wing yelling for Madame Pomfrey, Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, anyone. The matron answered his call, bustling over and telling him that he needed to be quiet or he would wake her patients, before noticing the bleeding girl in his arms.
"Oh no," gasped the nurse, directing him to lay the redhead down on the nearest unoccupied bed. He complied, setting her frail form lightly on the stark white sheets.
The matron shooed him out of the way, and the sixteen-year-old watched as the old woman pulled out her wand, directing it at the ghostly white girl lying on the bed.
"You, Malfoy, go find the Headmaster! Quickly, quickly! We don't have much time!" The nurse screeched the words, panic evident in her voice, and Draco sprinted out of the Hospital Wing. He tore along the corridors, making enough noise to wake the dead, and came to a halt only when he couldn't breathe. Uttering a very creative string of profanities, as he started running when he was able to breathe again, he turned a corner and nearly collided with the white-haired Headmaster.
"P-Professor D-Dumbledore... Weasley... Hospital Wing... Bleeding... Dead... Ginny..." He was unable to string together a coherent sentence, but it appeared as though the Headmaster got the idea of what the Slytherin was trying to say.
Before the final word had even left Draco's mouth, Albus Dumbledore was running as fast as his ancient body would allow down the corridor towards the Hospital Wing, followed much slower by a faint-feeling Draco Malfoy.
When he finally reached the infirmary, Draco was terrified to see the curtains drawn around the girl's bed, and Professor Dumbledore talking to a group of three pale-faced and crying Gryffindors.
Hermione Granger was sobbing hysterically into Harry Potter's chest, while the latter had silent tears streaming down his colorless cheeks. Ron Weasley appeared to be in shock, standing stock still, his face expressionless.
The Headmaster turned at the sound of his footsteps, and the blonde boy looked meaningfully at the partitioned bed and then back at his professor. The three Gryffindors looked at him in horror, and it was only then that he noticed the blood on his hands, his clothes, his face.
"She slit her wrists," he said in explanation, and Granger nodded in acceptance. The other two looked about ready to kill him, and Draco took an unconscious step backwards.
His gaze traveled back to meet that of the Headmaster, and he waited with baited breath for the proclamation of death that he was sure was coming.
"She is not dead, Draco. You saved her." The words of the ancient wizard took some time to penetrate his exhausted mind, but when they did, relief, sweet, warm relief, flooded through his body.
He was surprised when, the next moment, Granger had flung herself on him, heedless of the blood and water that covered his body, and was sobbing into his shoulder. She hugged him tightly, as though he was her link to life, before letting go and stepping away, her clothing damp and spotted with red.
"Y-y-y-y-you s-s-s-saved her, w-w-e w-w-ere a-all s-s-s-s-so w-worried w- when w-we c-couldn't f-find h-h-her, b-b-but y-you saved h-her!" The bushy- haired Head Girl turned back to Potter following this announcement, and resumed her hysterical crying into his chest.
Draco was stunned, understandably so.
Neither of the other two seemed entirely capable of speech, but both sent the blonde appreciative looks, and Draco felt a blush climb up his cheeks.
As the last bits of adrenaline fled his system, he collapsed wearily on the bed closest to him, every muscle in his body screaming out in protest of his earlier exertions, his mind preparing to shut down and process all the information it had just received.
Apparently, the Headmaster sensed his weariness, for he suggested that the Gryffindors leave the infirmary and go back to their dormitories, assuring them that they would be more than welcome to skip classes the next day and sit with the youngest Weasley.
When silence had descended upon the Hospital Wing once more, the Headmaster spoke softly to the matron, who replied in the same soft tones, before the old man left and the nurse came bustling over to the bed on which Draco had collapsed.
"You've had quite a night, Mister Malfoy," she commented, pulling a set of curtains around his bed before handing him a pair of silver and green pajamas and going off to her office.
Refraining from making the snide comment that begged to be let from his tongue, Draco changed into the pajamas, more than happy to rid himself of his blood-soaked and sopping uniform. He climbed back onto the bed, dragging the blankets over his body as shivers of cold wracked his frame. The nurse returned a moment later, bringing with her a goblet full of blue liquid, which she placed on the side table.
"The Headmaster wishes for you to remain here this evening, Mister Malfoy, and will return in the morning to speak to you about tonight's occurrences. Now drink this, and get some sleep." Her tone was business-like, as she offered him the goblet of potion.
Again not making the comment that formed on his lips, Draco downed the too- sweet drink in one shot, and fell instantly asleep as the magical properties of the drink shut down his system.
He woke the next morning to sunshine burning behind his closed eyelids, and when he opened his eyes it was to see that the infirmary was a hive of activity.
The first place he looked was towards Ginny's bed, but the curtains were still drawn; he noted that his own partitions must have been taken away some time in the night. When the nurse saw that he was awake, she hurried over, giving him an unneeded checkup before hurrying off to see to another of her patients.
Draco had been watching the bustle of activity, as students came requesting Calming Draughts before exams, cures for flues or colds, headache cures, and countercurses, when the Headmaster ambled into the Wing, strolling straight for Draco's bed.
The ancient wizard appeared to be extremely tired, the blonde noted, as the former pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. Glittering blue eyes met stormy gray, and Draco was pleased when Dumbledore broke the eye contact first.
"I need you to tell me exactly what happened last night, Mister Malfoy," requested the professor of the weary student.
Draco's gaze drifted to the window, through which he could see the very spot where the youngest Weasley had stood the previous evening. Shuddering slightly, and berating himself for not getting to her sooner, he kept his gaze fixed on the now-calm water as he spoke.
"As you know, the prefects and Head Boy and Girl were sent out last night, along with the teachers, to try and find the wayward Weasley. She had gone off alone, we were informed, by Potter and his entourage, who reported to you when they couldn't find her at first. After receiving our instructions, everyone drifted off to search various parts of the castle.
"I went outside, figuring that, if she wanted to be alone, outside would be a good place to go. The weather was horrendous; no one in their right mind would go out in it unless they had a damn good reason. When I got close to the lake, I saw her, standing by the edge of the water.
"I was curious, and didn't want to disturb her if she was doing some sort of spell, so I waited. She started walking into the water, but again, I wasn't exactly sure what she was doing, so I didn't disturb her. Something silver caught the flash of a lightning bolt, but from the distance I couldn't tell what it was. It was only when I saw the blood pouring from her wrist that I knew what she was doing.
"I started towards her then, after I had watched her slit one wrist, and I only got to her after she had done the second. I pulled her out of the water, tied strips of cloth around her wrists to try and stop the bleeding; it didn't work too well.
"I brought her to the castle, as fast as I could. She was dying, I could feel her going limp in my arms. She spoke only once, saying for me to tell everyone that she was sorry."
He finished his tale in the same toneless voice he had started with, recalling in vivid detail the previous evening. His gaze met once again that of his Headmaster, but it was Draco who broke the link first.
By the time Dumbledore had had all of his questions answered, the bustle of the Hospital Wing had died down, and the room was nearly silent. The Headmaster bade farewell to both Draco and the nurse, and excused himself to go talk to Molly and Arthur Weasley, who were apparently waiting to hear news of their daughter.
When he was alone, the Dream Team not having shown up yet, Draco lay back against the pillows on his bed, weary from his interrogation. A soft moaning came from the bed to his right, accompanied by the sound of rustling sheets.
He was out of his bed in an instant, pulling back the curtains surrounding her bed and looking down at the fifteen-year-old before him. She was slow to wake, eyelids fluttering, bandaged hands going to her eyes, and then back to her sides.
She was scared, he could tell by the look on her face, when she was finally fully awake. She tried to sit up, tried to get out of the bed, but he pushed gently on her shoulder, restraining her.
Terrified eyes met his, before her gaze flicked down to the bandages on her wrists. She tried again to sit up, but again he pushed her down. He wasn't entirely sure why he was so concerned about her wellbeing, but there was something about saving someone's life that left you worrying about them.
"W-what happened?" She asked, her tone small and scared. "It wasn't all a dream, was it?"
"No, Ginny, it wasn't a dream." His tone was gentle, soothing.
She started to cry, silent tears falling from her chocolate eyes, as realization set in with his words.
"I'm sorry... I didn't... I shouldn't have... But I did... And I almost... And... I'm sorry..."
He crawled onto the bed, and, pulling her into his lap, he rocked her back and forth, waiting for the tears to stop. Before the girl had stopped crying, however, the matron came hurrying over, carrying with her a vial of clear liquid, which she ordered Ginny to drink. The woman refrained from remarking on the fact that Draco was there.
The redhead obediently downed the clear liquid, and when she inquired as to what it was, the nurse informed them both that it was a painkiller. When Ginny told the woman that she wasn't in any pain to begin with, the matron said something about emotional pain, and disappeared.
Ginny leaned back against the blonde boy once again, resting her head against his shoulder. He held her tightly, leaning into the pillows and the headboard.
"Thank you," she sniffled, not looking at him.
"You're welcome," he replied, placing a chaste kiss on the top of her head.
She looked up at him then, unsure how to respond to his action. The faintest of reassuring smiles curved his lips, and she returned his smile with a weak one of her own. She was about to say something, when the sound of footsteps rang through the deserted room.
Both looked towards the end of the row of beds, spotting a group of three Gryffindors making its way towards them. Seeing the apparently livid older brother of the girl he currently held in his arms, Draco gently removed Ginny from his lap, and climbed off her bed, returning to his own. Before the trio could say a word, he had grabbed his clothes, which had been lying on the table, and his wand, and disappeared into the washroom.
He emerged a moment later, fully clothed, wand in pocket, and had started to leave the wing when he heard a patter of footsteps behind him. Turning, he was surprised to see Virginia Weasley, clad in a simple red and gold nightgown that hung to her knees, taking careful steps towards him.
She looked so weak that he was compelled to lift her in his arms and return her to her bed. But he doused the urge, as she reached him, and chanced a glance back at her brother. He still looked livid. Ginny looked up at him, gratitude written across her face.
She stood on her tiptoes, and he ducked his head slightly, so that he was at eye level with her. Perplexed as to her intentions, he waited for her to say something, and was understandably surprised when she pressed her lips to his swiftly and softly.
"Thank you," she repeated her words from before.
"You're welcome," he repeated himself as well, and watched as she turned and wobbled back to her bed.
He turned away, and left the Hospital Wing without another word. When he had reached the privacy of the corridor, Draco shook his head in puzzlement both at her actions and his own. He knew that, were his father still alive, Lucius Malfoy would be furious with his son for saving the life of a Weasley. But Malfoy Senior had been killed the previous summer, following his escape from Azkaban prison. Truth be told, Draco was happier with his father dead.
The blonde wandered aimlessly through the corridors, eventually making it to his private room in the Slytherin dungeons. Being a prefect, Draco had his own room, which was accessible both through the Slytherin common room and the corridor outside. After muttering the required password, he slipped through the open space of wall, heading straight for the bottle of firewhiskey concealed behind the door of his wardrobe.
He drank all day, nursing the singular bottle of alcohol for the entire day, thinking constantly of one Virginia Weasley and her lips on his. When it came time for rounds that evening, Draco left his room, performing his prefect duties and returning to his brooding.
'You're falling for her'; said his conscience, as Draco crawled into bed that night, the youngest Weasley still plaguing his mind.
'I can't be falling for her; I've hardly noticed her for the five years I've been around her at school, and I know nothing about her'; he argued, as darkness settled around him.
'You can so be falling for her – you just don't want to admit it because she's a Weasley. A damn fine Weasley, but a Weasley nonetheless'.
'Well, sure, she looks good, but I don't date girls just for their looks'.
'Aha! So you admit you think she looks good! And you admit that you would date her!'
'I did no such thing! Well, the former, yes, but not the latter. I doubt she likes me anyway; I'm the horrible Slytherin git who torments her family, remember?'
'You're in loooooooooooooooooooooooooooove!'
'Am not!'
'Are too.'
'Fine. Say I am in love. What can I do about it?'
'Talk to her.'
'I can't do that, she'll think I want something from her because I saved her life. She'll think I'm just using her.'
'Right. Perhaps you'll have to find another way to see if she has feelings for you.'
'Good idea. But how?'
'Talk to Potter.'
'I CAN'T TALK TO WONDER BOY!'
'Sure you can. You go right up to him, and you say; 'listen, Potter, I've got a thing for Virginia, but I don't know if she feels the same way about me. Can you find out for me?'
'I can't do that; Potter's my enemy.'
'If he's your enemy, then why are you fighting on the same side as him in this war that's going on?'
'Well, he's my enemy to the general public, and we hate each other, so I can't go talk to him.'
'Talk to Weasley, then.'
'I can't talk to Weasley, he's her brother!'
'Right.'
'Damn, this is difficult. I've never had a thing for a woman who hasn't thrown herself at my feet.'
'You've never actually had a thing for a woman period. All the girls you've been with have just been good shags, nothing more.'
'True. But can we get back on topic please?'
'Talk to Granger.'
'I could do that...'
With the decision to talk to Hermione Granger concerning Virginia Weasley and her opinion of him swirling through his conscious thought, Draco drifted into slumber in the early hours of the morning.
End Flashback
He pulled himself from his reverie, feeling tears damp on his cheeks at the memory of the blood pouring from the wrists of his beloved. Draco shook himself, banishing the past from his thoughts, and considered the fact that she had better get out of the shower soon, and he had better get her out of the hotel soon, or the whole surprise would be ruined.
A/N: Longish chapter. Oh well. Took me a while to write. Anyway.
I thought I should tell you that this story is going to be made up of a lot of flashbacks as it goes on, so things might get kind of confusing. Maybe. Kind of. Meh.
Hope you enjoyed!
Please review!
CHAPTER TWO: OF TERROR
Flashback
He watched from afar, not necessarily warm, but dry under his umbrella, as the redhead stood in front of the lake, drenched from head to foot by the rain that was falling in sheets from the steel gray heavens. She wasn't wearing her school uniform, but had garbed herself in a gown of plain white cotton that was stained with mud on the bottom hem by her ankles.
He knew full well why he was outside at this time of night in such wretched weather; he was a prefect, and had been ordered to go look for the same redhead that was now walking slowly into the turbulent waters of the lake. But he wasn't sure why she was outside.
Her hair hung in dripping curls around her face and shoulders, and the gown clung to her body like a second skin. Being sixteen, and rather observant when it came to the female anatomy, he noted the fact that she had filled out quite nicely, and was no longer the scrawny eleven-year-old with carrot- red hair that he remembered her as.
She had stopped moving, and was now waist deep in the water. His attention drifted from her breasts, which he could see quite clearly through the soaked cotton, to a small piece of silver in her hand that caught the light from a flash of lightning above. In fascination, he watched as she held out her arm, porcelain skin bare and vulnerable. She turned her arm palm- upwards, and pulled her other hand across her bare wrist. He realized, as a steady, pulsating flow of crimson liquid left her wrist, what she was doing.
Dropping the umbrella, he sprinted towards her, reaching her as she slid the now-blood-soaked blade across her other wrist. A clap of thunder sounded above, followed almost immediately by a flash of lightning. He had to give the girl a bit of grudging respect; she couldn't have chosen a better time to try and kill herself. If she didn't drown, she would die of blood loss, and if she didn't die of either of those, she would most likely be electrocuted by the lightning. He had no doubts that she probably had some pills stashed somewhere, too, should none of the methods visible at present work.
Hell, he thought, she'd probably already taken something.
He knew; he'd seen it before, and nearly tried it before.
As she started to walk farther into the water, still unaware of his presence, the blonde grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back towards the shore. Oddly enough, she didn't struggle, and as he carried her onto the beach, he realized why; her body was completely limp.
She had taken pills then, he mused.
"Damn it, Weasley, you aren't going to die on me," he muttered aloud, pushing dripping blonde hair out of his face as he ripped off strips of his cloak to tie around her wrists in an attempt to stop the steady flow of blood, before picking her up like a baby and sprinting back towards the castle as fast as the rain-soaked lawns and his burden would let him.
"M-Malfoy?" Her voice was weak, her eyes glazed over.
He couldn't help but feel compassion for the girl in his arms, as he climbed the marble staircase as fast as he could.
"Ssh, Ginny, it's all right," he murmured, climbing each new flight of stairs with adrenaline-induced speed.
"T-t-tell... everyone......... I'm.................. sorry.... Draco........." Her breathing was labored, her voice barely audible, and he knew she was almost gone.
She was hardly anything more than an empty vessel in his arms now, and he burst into the Hospital Wing yelling for Madame Pomfrey, Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, anyone. The matron answered his call, bustling over and telling him that he needed to be quiet or he would wake her patients, before noticing the bleeding girl in his arms.
"Oh no," gasped the nurse, directing him to lay the redhead down on the nearest unoccupied bed. He complied, setting her frail form lightly on the stark white sheets.
The matron shooed him out of the way, and the sixteen-year-old watched as the old woman pulled out her wand, directing it at the ghostly white girl lying on the bed.
"You, Malfoy, go find the Headmaster! Quickly, quickly! We don't have much time!" The nurse screeched the words, panic evident in her voice, and Draco sprinted out of the Hospital Wing. He tore along the corridors, making enough noise to wake the dead, and came to a halt only when he couldn't breathe. Uttering a very creative string of profanities, as he started running when he was able to breathe again, he turned a corner and nearly collided with the white-haired Headmaster.
"P-Professor D-Dumbledore... Weasley... Hospital Wing... Bleeding... Dead... Ginny..." He was unable to string together a coherent sentence, but it appeared as though the Headmaster got the idea of what the Slytherin was trying to say.
Before the final word had even left Draco's mouth, Albus Dumbledore was running as fast as his ancient body would allow down the corridor towards the Hospital Wing, followed much slower by a faint-feeling Draco Malfoy.
When he finally reached the infirmary, Draco was terrified to see the curtains drawn around the girl's bed, and Professor Dumbledore talking to a group of three pale-faced and crying Gryffindors.
Hermione Granger was sobbing hysterically into Harry Potter's chest, while the latter had silent tears streaming down his colorless cheeks. Ron Weasley appeared to be in shock, standing stock still, his face expressionless.
The Headmaster turned at the sound of his footsteps, and the blonde boy looked meaningfully at the partitioned bed and then back at his professor. The three Gryffindors looked at him in horror, and it was only then that he noticed the blood on his hands, his clothes, his face.
"She slit her wrists," he said in explanation, and Granger nodded in acceptance. The other two looked about ready to kill him, and Draco took an unconscious step backwards.
His gaze traveled back to meet that of the Headmaster, and he waited with baited breath for the proclamation of death that he was sure was coming.
"She is not dead, Draco. You saved her." The words of the ancient wizard took some time to penetrate his exhausted mind, but when they did, relief, sweet, warm relief, flooded through his body.
He was surprised when, the next moment, Granger had flung herself on him, heedless of the blood and water that covered his body, and was sobbing into his shoulder. She hugged him tightly, as though he was her link to life, before letting go and stepping away, her clothing damp and spotted with red.
"Y-y-y-y-you s-s-s-saved her, w-w-e w-w-ere a-all s-s-s-s-so w-worried w- when w-we c-couldn't f-find h-h-her, b-b-but y-you saved h-her!" The bushy- haired Head Girl turned back to Potter following this announcement, and resumed her hysterical crying into his chest.
Draco was stunned, understandably so.
Neither of the other two seemed entirely capable of speech, but both sent the blonde appreciative looks, and Draco felt a blush climb up his cheeks.
As the last bits of adrenaline fled his system, he collapsed wearily on the bed closest to him, every muscle in his body screaming out in protest of his earlier exertions, his mind preparing to shut down and process all the information it had just received.
Apparently, the Headmaster sensed his weariness, for he suggested that the Gryffindors leave the infirmary and go back to their dormitories, assuring them that they would be more than welcome to skip classes the next day and sit with the youngest Weasley.
When silence had descended upon the Hospital Wing once more, the Headmaster spoke softly to the matron, who replied in the same soft tones, before the old man left and the nurse came bustling over to the bed on which Draco had collapsed.
"You've had quite a night, Mister Malfoy," she commented, pulling a set of curtains around his bed before handing him a pair of silver and green pajamas and going off to her office.
Refraining from making the snide comment that begged to be let from his tongue, Draco changed into the pajamas, more than happy to rid himself of his blood-soaked and sopping uniform. He climbed back onto the bed, dragging the blankets over his body as shivers of cold wracked his frame. The nurse returned a moment later, bringing with her a goblet full of blue liquid, which she placed on the side table.
"The Headmaster wishes for you to remain here this evening, Mister Malfoy, and will return in the morning to speak to you about tonight's occurrences. Now drink this, and get some sleep." Her tone was business-like, as she offered him the goblet of potion.
Again not making the comment that formed on his lips, Draco downed the too- sweet drink in one shot, and fell instantly asleep as the magical properties of the drink shut down his system.
He woke the next morning to sunshine burning behind his closed eyelids, and when he opened his eyes it was to see that the infirmary was a hive of activity.
The first place he looked was towards Ginny's bed, but the curtains were still drawn; he noted that his own partitions must have been taken away some time in the night. When the nurse saw that he was awake, she hurried over, giving him an unneeded checkup before hurrying off to see to another of her patients.
Draco had been watching the bustle of activity, as students came requesting Calming Draughts before exams, cures for flues or colds, headache cures, and countercurses, when the Headmaster ambled into the Wing, strolling straight for Draco's bed.
The ancient wizard appeared to be extremely tired, the blonde noted, as the former pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. Glittering blue eyes met stormy gray, and Draco was pleased when Dumbledore broke the eye contact first.
"I need you to tell me exactly what happened last night, Mister Malfoy," requested the professor of the weary student.
Draco's gaze drifted to the window, through which he could see the very spot where the youngest Weasley had stood the previous evening. Shuddering slightly, and berating himself for not getting to her sooner, he kept his gaze fixed on the now-calm water as he spoke.
"As you know, the prefects and Head Boy and Girl were sent out last night, along with the teachers, to try and find the wayward Weasley. She had gone off alone, we were informed, by Potter and his entourage, who reported to you when they couldn't find her at first. After receiving our instructions, everyone drifted off to search various parts of the castle.
"I went outside, figuring that, if she wanted to be alone, outside would be a good place to go. The weather was horrendous; no one in their right mind would go out in it unless they had a damn good reason. When I got close to the lake, I saw her, standing by the edge of the water.
"I was curious, and didn't want to disturb her if she was doing some sort of spell, so I waited. She started walking into the water, but again, I wasn't exactly sure what she was doing, so I didn't disturb her. Something silver caught the flash of a lightning bolt, but from the distance I couldn't tell what it was. It was only when I saw the blood pouring from her wrist that I knew what she was doing.
"I started towards her then, after I had watched her slit one wrist, and I only got to her after she had done the second. I pulled her out of the water, tied strips of cloth around her wrists to try and stop the bleeding; it didn't work too well.
"I brought her to the castle, as fast as I could. She was dying, I could feel her going limp in my arms. She spoke only once, saying for me to tell everyone that she was sorry."
He finished his tale in the same toneless voice he had started with, recalling in vivid detail the previous evening. His gaze met once again that of his Headmaster, but it was Draco who broke the link first.
By the time Dumbledore had had all of his questions answered, the bustle of the Hospital Wing had died down, and the room was nearly silent. The Headmaster bade farewell to both Draco and the nurse, and excused himself to go talk to Molly and Arthur Weasley, who were apparently waiting to hear news of their daughter.
When he was alone, the Dream Team not having shown up yet, Draco lay back against the pillows on his bed, weary from his interrogation. A soft moaning came from the bed to his right, accompanied by the sound of rustling sheets.
He was out of his bed in an instant, pulling back the curtains surrounding her bed and looking down at the fifteen-year-old before him. She was slow to wake, eyelids fluttering, bandaged hands going to her eyes, and then back to her sides.
She was scared, he could tell by the look on her face, when she was finally fully awake. She tried to sit up, tried to get out of the bed, but he pushed gently on her shoulder, restraining her.
Terrified eyes met his, before her gaze flicked down to the bandages on her wrists. She tried again to sit up, but again he pushed her down. He wasn't entirely sure why he was so concerned about her wellbeing, but there was something about saving someone's life that left you worrying about them.
"W-what happened?" She asked, her tone small and scared. "It wasn't all a dream, was it?"
"No, Ginny, it wasn't a dream." His tone was gentle, soothing.
She started to cry, silent tears falling from her chocolate eyes, as realization set in with his words.
"I'm sorry... I didn't... I shouldn't have... But I did... And I almost... And... I'm sorry..."
He crawled onto the bed, and, pulling her into his lap, he rocked her back and forth, waiting for the tears to stop. Before the girl had stopped crying, however, the matron came hurrying over, carrying with her a vial of clear liquid, which she ordered Ginny to drink. The woman refrained from remarking on the fact that Draco was there.
The redhead obediently downed the clear liquid, and when she inquired as to what it was, the nurse informed them both that it was a painkiller. When Ginny told the woman that she wasn't in any pain to begin with, the matron said something about emotional pain, and disappeared.
Ginny leaned back against the blonde boy once again, resting her head against his shoulder. He held her tightly, leaning into the pillows and the headboard.
"Thank you," she sniffled, not looking at him.
"You're welcome," he replied, placing a chaste kiss on the top of her head.
She looked up at him then, unsure how to respond to his action. The faintest of reassuring smiles curved his lips, and she returned his smile with a weak one of her own. She was about to say something, when the sound of footsteps rang through the deserted room.
Both looked towards the end of the row of beds, spotting a group of three Gryffindors making its way towards them. Seeing the apparently livid older brother of the girl he currently held in his arms, Draco gently removed Ginny from his lap, and climbed off her bed, returning to his own. Before the trio could say a word, he had grabbed his clothes, which had been lying on the table, and his wand, and disappeared into the washroom.
He emerged a moment later, fully clothed, wand in pocket, and had started to leave the wing when he heard a patter of footsteps behind him. Turning, he was surprised to see Virginia Weasley, clad in a simple red and gold nightgown that hung to her knees, taking careful steps towards him.
She looked so weak that he was compelled to lift her in his arms and return her to her bed. But he doused the urge, as she reached him, and chanced a glance back at her brother. He still looked livid. Ginny looked up at him, gratitude written across her face.
She stood on her tiptoes, and he ducked his head slightly, so that he was at eye level with her. Perplexed as to her intentions, he waited for her to say something, and was understandably surprised when she pressed her lips to his swiftly and softly.
"Thank you," she repeated her words from before.
"You're welcome," he repeated himself as well, and watched as she turned and wobbled back to her bed.
He turned away, and left the Hospital Wing without another word. When he had reached the privacy of the corridor, Draco shook his head in puzzlement both at her actions and his own. He knew that, were his father still alive, Lucius Malfoy would be furious with his son for saving the life of a Weasley. But Malfoy Senior had been killed the previous summer, following his escape from Azkaban prison. Truth be told, Draco was happier with his father dead.
The blonde wandered aimlessly through the corridors, eventually making it to his private room in the Slytherin dungeons. Being a prefect, Draco had his own room, which was accessible both through the Slytherin common room and the corridor outside. After muttering the required password, he slipped through the open space of wall, heading straight for the bottle of firewhiskey concealed behind the door of his wardrobe.
He drank all day, nursing the singular bottle of alcohol for the entire day, thinking constantly of one Virginia Weasley and her lips on his. When it came time for rounds that evening, Draco left his room, performing his prefect duties and returning to his brooding.
'You're falling for her'; said his conscience, as Draco crawled into bed that night, the youngest Weasley still plaguing his mind.
'I can't be falling for her; I've hardly noticed her for the five years I've been around her at school, and I know nothing about her'; he argued, as darkness settled around him.
'You can so be falling for her – you just don't want to admit it because she's a Weasley. A damn fine Weasley, but a Weasley nonetheless'.
'Well, sure, she looks good, but I don't date girls just for their looks'.
'Aha! So you admit you think she looks good! And you admit that you would date her!'
'I did no such thing! Well, the former, yes, but not the latter. I doubt she likes me anyway; I'm the horrible Slytherin git who torments her family, remember?'
'You're in loooooooooooooooooooooooooooove!'
'Am not!'
'Are too.'
'Fine. Say I am in love. What can I do about it?'
'Talk to her.'
'I can't do that, she'll think I want something from her because I saved her life. She'll think I'm just using her.'
'Right. Perhaps you'll have to find another way to see if she has feelings for you.'
'Good idea. But how?'
'Talk to Potter.'
'I CAN'T TALK TO WONDER BOY!'
'Sure you can. You go right up to him, and you say; 'listen, Potter, I've got a thing for Virginia, but I don't know if she feels the same way about me. Can you find out for me?'
'I can't do that; Potter's my enemy.'
'If he's your enemy, then why are you fighting on the same side as him in this war that's going on?'
'Well, he's my enemy to the general public, and we hate each other, so I can't go talk to him.'
'Talk to Weasley, then.'
'I can't talk to Weasley, he's her brother!'
'Right.'
'Damn, this is difficult. I've never had a thing for a woman who hasn't thrown herself at my feet.'
'You've never actually had a thing for a woman period. All the girls you've been with have just been good shags, nothing more.'
'True. But can we get back on topic please?'
'Talk to Granger.'
'I could do that...'
With the decision to talk to Hermione Granger concerning Virginia Weasley and her opinion of him swirling through his conscious thought, Draco drifted into slumber in the early hours of the morning.
End Flashback
He pulled himself from his reverie, feeling tears damp on his cheeks at the memory of the blood pouring from the wrists of his beloved. Draco shook himself, banishing the past from his thoughts, and considered the fact that she had better get out of the shower soon, and he had better get her out of the hotel soon, or the whole surprise would be ruined.
A/N: Longish chapter. Oh well. Took me a while to write. Anyway.
I thought I should tell you that this story is going to be made up of a lot of flashbacks as it goes on, so things might get kind of confusing. Maybe. Kind of. Meh.
Hope you enjoyed!
Please review!