Hello, readers. Thank you for the lovely reviews. Here I am with a quick update and I hope you will enjoy it!
WILFULLY: CHAPTER 6
The phrase 'things have taken quite a turn' was an accurate summary of Ginny Weasley's life these days. She probably deserved an award for valor for juggling her whirlwind of a love life, her family's wrath and her Quidditch career. And it seemed that things were not going to settle down anytime soon.
Merlin, help her.
xx
Draco Malfoy had taken refuge in a Burmese monastery.
That was one of the five possibilities that Ginny had conjured to explain Draco's absence. It was the afternoon after that horrendous dinner where the arsehole had been a no-show, and she was slowly making her way through the orchard towards the Burrow, sulking over her failure to locate her soon-to-be-ex boyfriend.
After sending him a bunch of rather colorful howlers in the morning, she had dropped by the Malfoy Corporation, only to be told by Greta that Draco was not in his office. "He hasn't been in since Saturday afternoon," the assistant had said. "I thought he had gone off to Maldives with you."
"Maldives?" Ginny asked blankly.
"Oh, yes. Didn't the Prophet say that the two of you were going on a romantic getaway?"
"Ah. That." Ginny had forced a smile as her brain formed some choice words for Rita Skeeter. Somebody ought to snatch that quick quotes quill from that ugly cow and rid the world of those false articles she published almost every other day. "We're not going anywhere because of… um, my Quidditch schedule."
"Of course." Greta smiled widely. "You make such a beautiful couple, Miss Weasley. I mean, I-I think you and Mr. Potter were lovely together and I'm saddened to hear that he is not taking this news so well, but I do believe that you and Mr. Malfoy are much more suited together."
"Thank you," Ginny said politely, hoping that her impatience would not show on her face. The last thing she wanted was to have her relationship with Harry compared to that with Draco. It was hard enough to keep those comparisons to a minimum inside her own head, especially when she was mad at that blond wanker. "Do you, um, know where I can find Draco?" Upon noticing the suspicious expression on the elder woman's face, she quickly added, "I've been busy because of my training so I thought I'd drag him off for an impromptu date."
Greta nodded, as if she had expected that to be the reason behind her visit. "I'm afraid I've no idea where Mr. Malfoy is," she said grimly. "I sent an owl to the Manor last night – he's missed a couple of meetings and people were asking for him, you know? – and I only got a reply an hour ago saying that he is busy and will get in touch when he can."
The next obvious stop on her 'Malfoy hunt' was the Malfoy Manor. Yugo the house elf had admitted her into the foyer very graciously and then told her with great regret that Draco was not at home.
"Lies," she had said as she moved past him and started up the staircase. "I'm sure that coward is hiding somewhere in this damned place."
"He is no here, Miss. Yugo swears it." The elf jogged hurriedly to catch up with her longer strides and was panting by the time he reached her. "Master sir no come home since day before yesterday."
She halted at that and eyed the creature dubiously, noting that he seemed to be telling the truth. If Draco had gone off on some business trip, then Greta would have known. And if he was off on a personal errand, such as visiting his mother, then the elf would have told her, just like he had done last time. "Where is he, then?"
Yugo shifted on his feet, his large eyes darting around uneasily. "Y-Yugo can't say, Miss." The elf clasped his hands together earnestly, his voice pleading. "Master sir said not to tell anyone where he goes, but he no here. You can check, Miss."
"Tell me where he is." Ginny demanded angrily. She already hated herself for chasing after that blond twat, and she absolutely refused to play this goddamned game of hide-and-seek anymore. She was going to see him, give him a piece of her mind and then end this stupid chapter once and for all.
"Can't, Miss." Yugo insisted. The creature's voice remained polite as ever, but he straightened his shoulders a bit, as if to indicate that he was standing his ground. "Sorry, Miss, but Yugo serves Master Draco sir. Yugo do as he asks."
Had circumstances been different, she would have been impressed with the elf's loyalty. In that moment, she was only irritated. But it was quite clear that there was no point in arguing any further; the elf was not going to give up any information. Disgruntled, she had made her way back to the foyer and paused by the door. "Tell your beloved Master Draco that the next time I see him, I'm going to skin him."
"Nothing new about that, Miss," Yugo said with an understanding nod.
She halted, brows drawn in confusion. "What?"
"You and Master, Miss," he explained. "You skin each other." As if to demonstrate, the elf wrapped his arms around himself, fingertips digging into the skin of his arm, and made small squelchy kissing sounds.
Ginny flushed, her mouth dropping open. Sweet Merlin, Yugo thought that she had come her for that. And he appeared to be quite privy to her and Draco's private activities, which was surprising considering that they had limited their rutting to the confines of his bedroom... though there had been that one time in the living room. Her cheeks grew warm as she recalled lying on the beautiful vintage settee, her chest heaving and moans of encouragement on her lips as she buried her fingers in Draco's hair, planting his face firmly between her legs. Had Yugo just assumed about their activities or had he seen them in their throes of passion?
If this were any other situation, she would have kindly explained to the elf what skinning actually meant, but after that particular flashback, it became awfully hard to meet the creature's eyes. The best thing to do was to leave with a huff of indignation, which she did.
After the mission 'find Draco and nail his arse to a chair' had failed, Ginny had apparated to the orchards by the Burrow and had started making her way back on foot, taking the time to draw up a list of possibilities that would explain the whereabouts of her useless boyfriend.
1. Draco had forgotten about the dinner and was now taking refuge in a Burmese monastery to escape her wrath.
2. Draco had gone for a walk when a meteor had fallen from the sky and landed on top of him.
3. Draco had been kidnapped by a band of pirates and was somewhere in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.
4. Draco had been cuddled to death by a poffle of puffskeins, possibly becoming the first man in the world to die by excessive embrace.
5. This whole relationship had been a joke to him from the beginning, and Draco was off at a strip club in Vegas with a bunch of his Slytherin mates, laughing at how easy it had been to seduce the stupid Weasley girl.
The last one caused her heart to ache. That was what her family had insisted was the explanation – that a Malfoy would never treat a Weasley with respect, would never deem them his equal, that he was only playing with her feelings – and she had refused to believe it so far. The connection between her and Draco had felt real. But was it?
From what she had observed, Draco treated his appointments with a dedication that was almost religious. And if he had to diverge from his schedule, he always sent word beforehand, like he had done once or twice with her before. Why, then, would he promise to meet her family, insist via owl that he would be there, and then simply not show up?
Ginny was unable to come up with an answer to that by the time she entered the living room, and was mercifully distracted by the sight of her mother frantically putting on her coat. "What's going on?" she asked.
"Oh good, you are back," Molly said as she hurried over to the fireplace. "Ron flooed. Hermione is in the hospital."
xx
Thankfully, it hadn't turned out to be anything too serious.
Hermione, who became the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures two years ago to nobody's surprise, had been involved in a ghoul related incident. Utterly disgruntled that the incident had occurred in the first place, she had refused to explain what had happened and how she had ended up with a sprained wrist and a deep gash on her cheek.
The healers had already fixed her up and were well on their way to discharge her by the time Ginny and her mum reached St. Mungo's.
"Thank goodness you're alright," Molly said, relief evident in her voice. She had insisted that they all returned to the Burrow, where she would have a proper chance to pamper her daughter-in-law to be. Hermione had claimed that she felt fine and there was no need to worry, but the prospect of freshly baked scones caused Ron to agree to the idea in less than half a minute. "Ron scared me half to death with his–"
"Ron is a bit of a drama queen." Hermione shot an accusatory glance to her fiancé, who was gallantly helping her down the hallway.
"I only got a memo saying you'd been in an accident and they were taking you to the hospital," Ron mumbled defensively, wrapping an arm around her. "Scared me half to death, 'Mione."
Hermione tried to look indignant but failed completely; it was obvious that she was pleased by his concern. "Like I said, drama queen," she mumbled and placed a quick kiss on his cheek.
Ginny followed them with a smile on her face. It had taken a ridiculously long time for this couple to come together – Harry had told her of the awkward times he had spent being sandwiched between them, and of the worst possible time they had chosen to have their first snog – but once they had confessed their feelings, they had been inseparable. They were to be married in winter, and Hermione had already asked her to be her chief bridesmaid. It would be a lovely event, no doubt, and doubly special for her because the brother she was closest to was going to marry one of her dearest friends.
"Malfoy."
The name snapped her out of her musings and she looked up to realise that the others had stopped walking. Molly turned to her, brows furrowed with a mixture of confusion and question. "That's him, isn't it?"
Bewildered, Ginny followed her mother's gaze and peered through the open door to their left. It was a private hospital room, one that probably costed a lot, with a large shuttered window, a painting of a waterfall hanging on the wall and comfortable leather armchairs. She, of course, noticed none of that; her eyes were fixed on the patient laying in bed.
She had recognized him instantly, having spent countless minutes observing that crafted jawline and his blond hair rather intimately over the last few weeks, but it was his state that kept her rooted to the spot in shock. He looked terribly frail, with his skin was ghostly pale and his hands visibly shaking as he downed a vial of what appeared to be sleeping draught under the supervision of a very stern-looking Blaise Zabini, who was no doubt serving as his healer.
"That is him," Hermione confirmed. She sounded taken aback. "God. He looks ill."
That was an understatement, but it lurched Ginny out of her shock and spurred her forward. She marched into the room, her sudden entrance catching both Slytherins off-guard.
Draco's eyes met hers for a moment before moving on to her family, who had followed her. "No," he said in a hoarse whisper as he tried to sit up, swaying dangerously as he did so.
Zabini grabbed him by the shoulders and firmly pushed him back onto the pillows. "Stay down," he ordered, then fixed his glare upon her. "What do you think you're doing, Weasley?"
Ginny ignored the furious question and walked closer to the bed, noting with some alarm that Draco appeared to be in a much worse condition up close. His chalk white lips were chapped and his breathing shallow. He blinked owlishly as if his vision was blurred and he was having trouble focusing on anything in particular. She reached out and placed her hand atop his, only to jerk it back in surprise. His skin was burning. "What's wrong with him?" she asked.
"An infection," Zabini answered shortly, his gaze fixed on his blond friend. The two seemed to engage in a silent conversation for a couple of seconds before he looked at her. "It's not contagious."
"That is an IV drip," Hermione stated.
Ginny looked up and, sure enough, there was a bag of transparent liquid attached to Draco's arm with a tube. She had seen it before in one of those horrible muggle dramas that Harry liked to watch on television – 'guilty pleasure', he had called it – and knew that it was a muggle device used to administer medicine to patients.
"Yes, it is," Zabini said shortly. "Now, if you'd please–"
"Why do you have him on IV?" Once again Hermione voiced Ginny's curiosity. Merging muggle medication with the wizarding kind was not unheard of, but it was quite uncommon.
"I don't ask you how you do your job, Granger. Do not ask me how I do mine." The dark-skinned man sneered, looking very much like the conceited teenager he had been back at Hogwarts.
As expected, Ron's response to this was heated, which led to a small back and forth between the former Slytherin and Gryffindor. Ginny focused her attention back on Draco, who had succumbed to the sleeping potion. His lips were pressed tight in a grimace, indicating that he was in pain or uncomfortable. Possibly both. She didn't know enough about magical infections, but it was common knowledge that some – not all – of them were not to be taken lightly. "How did he get sick?" she asked, interrupting the pointless quarrel. "And what sort of infection is this?"
"I'm afraid I am not at liberty to discuss his treatment with you, since you are not his family." Zabini eyed her for a moment, as if he was sizing her up, then continued with some reluctance. "However, I can tell you that he has been here since Saturday evening, and should recover perfectly in a day or two. That is, if he pulls his head out of his arse and listens to me."
"That seems unlikely," she couldn't help but joke.
"Quite." His lips twitched with amusement. He glanced at his unconscious friend, then back at her. "He won't be up for at least a couple of hours. I can have word sent to you when he wakes, if you want."
A few weeks of enduring Draco had taught her enough about Slytherins; she knew that this was as close one of them, especially one as arrogant as Blaise Zabini, could come to actually holding out a hand of friendship. She appreciated it and considered his offer for a moment or two, but she knew that she would be incredibly restless if she left the hospital. "I'd like to stay with him, if that's alright."
That gave Zabini pause, as if he had not expected her to volunteer to stay by Draco's side, but he was quick to cover up his surprise with a nonchalant shrug. "As long as you don't disturb his slumber." He took his leave after a swift goodbye, promising to check up on his friend after an hour's interval.
Ginny turned to her family then, trying to read the expressions on their faces. Hermione seemed curious, Ron irritated, and her mother oddly concerned. "You go on," she told them, her voice filled with a hint of pleading. She hoped they'd understand her position and not start an argument over past enmities in this hospital room. "I'll come home when I can."
They were not happy with her decision, that much was obvious, but her mother mercifully agreed to it before Ron could create a scene. In a matter of minutes, she was left alone with Draco. She sank into the leather chair next to the bed and took his hand in hers, her eyes fixed on his face and her heart filled with a whirlwind of emotions that she could not have named even if her life had depended on it.
xx
The clash of the serpents.
That would be an apt name for the very interesting argument Ginny had had the pleasure of witnessing in the hospital when her sick arsehole of a boyfriend had woken up and had decided to quarrel with his haughtily logical healer best friend.
Once the sleeping draught had worn off, Draco had demanded to be discharged, and the fact that he had barely been able to speak, let alone move, had not hindered his order at all. Zabini, who had unfortunately been checking up on the blond at the time, had pointed out that he was in no state to go home and that it would be better if he stayed in the hospital for another day.
Draco, being the stubborn git that he is, had ignored that very reasonable advice and had signed the 'against healer's advice' discharge form anyway. An outraged Zabini had then offered to perform a pro bono procedure on him that would "remove the thick broomstick from his fat hind side" and would, as a result, cause him to be "less of a confounded nuisance to society in general".
The two friends had then resorted to carrying out the rest of their argument in a mixture of Italian and French, which annoyed her since she had been enjoying their very creative play of words. But finally, Zabini gave in – not that he had any other option; he couldn't have kept a patient in hospital against his will – and suggested that Narcissa Malfoy be informed of her son's condition, something that Draco had rejected with a firm tone that left no room for argument.
"I can stay with him," Ginny had volunteered. "If you're worried that he'll have no one to look after him."
Draco had once again protested, or tried to, but he had ended up with a violent coughing fit that had left her alarmed and more adamant than ever to stay by his side. She was Molly Weasley's daughter, after all, and had an in-built urge to pamper others, even if said others happened to be unspeakable wankers. Besides, there was no way poor Yugo would be able to take care of this blond man-child all by himself.
And so, they had returned to the Malfoy Manor later that evening, where Yugo had done an efficient job of helping his 'Master Draco sir' into his pajamas and putting him in bed. Ginny couldn't help but be impressed by the elf's devotion, considering the fact that he was no longer a slave bound to the servitude of the Malfoys but rather a paid employee (the House Elf Liberation Act had been one of the first things the Wizengamot had passed once Hermione had taken charge of her department).
"Y-You should go," Draco rasped once the elf had left the room, his glazed eyes fixed on her.
Ginny took off her shoes and crawled onto the bed stubbornly. "You can't just order me away whenever you want," she told him. "And if you don't like my presence here, you are welcome to physically kick me out yourself."
"Would if I could," he muttered.
She lay down next to him with a hum of amusement. Reaching out, she brushed her fingers against her cheek. It was ridiculous that he had checked himself out of proper medical care; he was burning with fever and his skin clammy. "You're hot," she stated as she needlessly readjusted his blankets, her words almost a reprimand.
"Y-Yes, I am." A hint of a smirk appeared on his lips as his eyes fluttered close.
Even in sickness, the bastard was as smug as ever. She could not decide if she found that more endearing or infuriating, but then again that could be the tagline of their entire relationship. Torn between the urge to either hug him or choke him, Ginny opted for the third option of remaining silent and watched him as he drifted off to what was clearly an uneasy sleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night, she had been curled up on the couch, engrossed in Draco's copy of the biography of Joscelind Wadcock, famous Puddlemere United chaser, when the blond woke up with a loud groan, his body trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. She moved to get up but then stopped, thinking that maybe it was another nightmare; he had asked for space, and she would give it to him.
She watched him roll onto his side, arm curled around his middle and let out a cry – and realized that his shivering was not a remnant of some bad dream but actually spasms of pain. Rushing over to him, Ginny placed her hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"H-Hurts," He managed to sputter as he blindly reached out for her, his fingers wrapping around her wrist so tightly that she was certain it would leave a bruise.
"Where does it hurt?" She asked as she eyed him helplessly. The pain was located somewhere in his abdomen, but she couldn't be sure. She still had no idea what sort of infection this was and how exactly it was affecting him. Honestly, Zabini was a shite healer if he thought that it was not important to educate her about his–
The thought of Zabini sent a jolt through her as she remembered that the healer had handed her a small cardboard box of medicines he had prescribed to Draco before they had left the hospital. With a wave of her wand, she summoned the box to her and looked through it. Two vials of sleeping draught, a calming potion – would that help in the current situation? – and a vial containing an orange liquid labelled 'Pain Relieving Potion'.
She uncorked the bottle and held it to Draco's lips. "Here, drink this."
He didn't even ask her what it was, only chanced a single glance at the potion and then gulped it down with the same urgency that a man dying of thirst would have latched onto a cup of water. He rested his head back on the pillows with a grunt when he had finished draining the vial, his face scrunched up in agony as shudders ran through his torso.
She did not know how long the potion would take to dull his pain, or how long it would last, but what she knew was that it had been intense enough to make him cry; the tear tracks on his cheeks were visible even in the dim light. "I'm going to take you back to the hospital," she declared. It seemed like the logical thing to do, and Zabini had instructed her to bring him back if his condition took a turn for the worse. This was definitely worse.
"N-No," Draco gasped as he hitched his knees up against his stomach, curling up into a ball. "G-Give… time."
Ginny had often wished for a day when she would see the git unable to form sentences, but she had always meant it in a more 'tongue-tied' way rather than a 'dying in agony' way. With a sigh, she reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. He leaned into her touch, the slight lightening of his features indicating that he found it to be somewhat soothing. Her lips curved into a small smile at that, and she continued to scratch abstract patterns on his scalp with her fingertips until he fell asleep once again.
Draco's fever broke an hour or so before dawn. He was drenched in sweat, but the grimace slipped away from his lips and he seemed much calmer in his slumber. Relieved, Ginny placed a soft kiss on his brow and settled down next to him, allowing herself some rest now that the need for her to stand in vigil had evaporated.
The pleasant aroma of smoked salmon and eggs woke her up. She looked around groggily, her brows drawn into a frown. The drapes were pulled halfway back, allowing bright sunlight to flitter in through the windows, and the space next to her on the bed was vacant. She berated herself for nodding off and wondered if he was alright.
As if on cue, Draco's voice reached her ears. "Oh, you're awake." He sounded much better, she noted as she propped herself up to find him seated at the couch, a fork in his hand and a tray of breakfast sitting on the table before him. He was dressed in a fresh pair of pajamas and a t-shirt, his hair slightly damp as if he had taken a shower not long ago. Though he did seem to be a bit weak, some colour had returned to his cheeks and he did not appear to be in any pain anymore. "Breakfast?"
Her stomach rumbled in response to his offer, and she realized how hungry she was. She had skipped out on a couple of meals due to obvious distractions the day before. "You look much more human," Ginny stated as she got off the bed to join him.
"I feel much more human."
"Well, that is good to know."
"I must thank you for last night, Ginevra," he said as he prepared a fresh cup of tea for her. "I appreciate your kindness greatly, though you shouldn't have gone through the trouble. I'm certain Yugo and I would have managed perfectly on our own."
"Hmm." She observed him over the rim of her cup. "And you are alright now?"
"I think I am," he replied, leaning back comfortably. "But I shall take the day off work to rest some more. It will help me appease Blaise after the stunt I pulled yesterday; no doubt he is still mad at me."
"No doubt he is," Ginny said with forced calm as she placed her cup on the table. Now that she was satisfied that he was not going to collapse into nothingness at the slightest nudge, the anger she had felt towards him before she had encountered him at the hospital was slowly making its way back to the forefront of her mind. "As am I. You stood me up."
Draco tilted his head to the side as he eyed her with incredulity. "I was in the hospital. Surely, you cannot blame me for–"
"No, I don't. You were sick, so you couldn't come."
"Exactly."
"That doesn't explain why you didn't send word to me–"
"You saw how terribly ill I was." His voice made it clear that he thought her insane. "Forgive me if sending you an apology for missing out on your wretched family dinner was not my topmost priority at the time."
"Oh, fuck the dinner!" Ginny snapped, unable to control her temper anymore. She knew him to be an intelligent person; surely, he couldn't be so clueless as to what it was that was truly bothering her. "Why didn't you tell me you were so sick? Merlin! You'd been in the hospital for almost three days and I only found out about it because I happened to see you there by chance."
"Don't get so emotional, Ginevra," he scoffed dismissively, as if he found the reasoning behind her anger to be petty. "In case you haven't noticed, I didn't even inform my own mother about my ailment."
With a growl, she bunched her hand in the front of his t-shirt and pulled him close so that their faces were only inches apart. He seemed startled by her sudden action, his eyes widening in surprise – and hopefully, a bit of fear. "Listen to me, Malfoy. I don't give a rat's arse about what you do and don't tell your mother. That dysfunctional relationship is between you and her," she told him heatedly. "But I am your bloody girlfriend and I expected to be treated as such."
She wanted him to understand that she was not some harlot that he was shagging whenever he felt the desire, she was his equal partner in a proper relationship. If he thought for a single moment that his communication with her was limited to preponing or postponing their dates and very conveniently omitting vital instances like this, then he was greatly mistaken.
"Had our places been reversed, I'd have ensured that you were among the first people to be informed of my condition. You will show me the same damn courtesy in the future or, so help me God, I will kick your balls so hard that they'll travel all the way up your intestines and get lodged in your fucking throat. Do I make myself clear?" At her words, Draco's eyes flared up with self-righteous indignance and he shifted slightly in an attempt to free his shirt from her grasp. She tugged hard at it. "Do I?" she asked again, her voice laden with a promise of retribution should his answer not please her.
"Yes, yes. Alright!" He agreed with a huff. "It won't happen again!"
"Good," she said sweetly as she let go of him, watching with some amusement as he scooted as far away from her as he could without falling off the end of the couch. It was obvious from the expression on his face that his stupid ego was once again wounded, and she couldn't have cared less about it. Instead, she fixed her attention on the scrambled eggs and salmon that was mercifully still warm.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, during which she devoured her breakfast and he sipped at his tea, sending wary glances her way from time to time. Finally, he said, "You have a vicious temper, Weasley."
"And don't you forget it," she replied smugly, for once feeling immensely proud of the infamous Weasley wrath that had even the brave Harry Potter scurrying out of her way as fast as he could. Changing the topic of the conversation a bit, she asked, "So, are you going to tell me what exactly was wrong with you?"
Draco stilled, his lips pressed together tightly in clear indication that he disliked the topic she had chosen. "I was experimenting with a potion and I must have messed it up. There were these fumes and next thing I know, I was in pain… I'd rather not talk about it, if that's alright with you." He finished his tea and set his cup down. "Did my absence cause much trouble for you at dinner?"
"What do you think?" she asked.
"I will make it up to you," he promised. His eyes moved about the room, and it looked like he was deep in thought. "Perhaps you should ask your parents if they're still willing to meet me."
Ginny blinked in surprise. "What? No!" She had learnt after that disastrous night that it had been a rash decision on her part to invite Draco in the first place. Neither her family nor he were ready for a face-to-face confrontation; their mutual hatred was too strong and would most probably result in a fiery quarrel, if not bloodshed. "You really don't have to –"
"I insist," he said, reaching out and placing his hand atop hers. "I'd love to have them over for dinner."
"I don't think that would be wise," she said politely. As admirable as his attempt at chivalry was, the only way her father would be setting foot in Malfoy Manor for a cordial meal would be if she put him under the Imperius Curse. Maybe not even then.
Her thoughts must have shown on her face, for his lips curved into a small smile. "See if they'd be willing to host me, then. Or perhaps we could dine at a restaurant."
That might actually work, she mused. A restaurant would be a public setting, meaning that both sides would be on their best behavior and less likely to cause a scene. But if something did go awry then the result would be disastrous, considering that Rita Skeeter's eyes were apparently everywhere these days. She, personally, didn't care what the wizarding community thought of her, but she knew that the Malfoy image meant a great deal to Draco. This proposed meeting posed a risk to it. "Really, there is no need for this." Ginny tried again, hoping that he would just agree with her. "I don't see why you're so adamant–"
"When you visited me in my office the other day, you made it quite clear that this meeting was important to you," he said calmly as he raised her hand to his lips and placed a small kiss on her skin. "It's the least I can do for you, Ginevra."
A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips on its own volition. Merlin. Would she never truly understand this man? One minute he acted like a condescending arsehole who didn't deem it important to tell her what went on in his life, and the next he was willing to walk into the lion's den – almost literally – just because it meant a great deal to her. Her heart melted at his words, along with any remnants of the irritation that was directed towards him, only to be replaced with a quaint, fluttery feeling that left her breathless.
"I'm late for training," she said as she got to her feet hastily, pulling her hand out of his grasp as she did so. It was silly, if not cowardly, that she was so taken aback by the sudden flare of feelings in her chest that she was using Quidditch as an excuse. In all honesty, she did have a team to get to – though not for another hour or so, but he didn't need to know the specifics.
"Of course." Draco said slowly, eyeing her with a small frown.
Ginny moved about the room, grabbing her bag and putting on her shoes. "I'll see myself out." She made her way to the door, then paused in the doorway to glance back at him. "I'll speak to my parents," she promised with a smile before walking out, wondering what she had just gotten herself into.
xx
The phrase 'things have taken quite a turn' was an accurate summary of Ginny Weasley's life these days.
In the last two days, she had survived a disastrous dinner where her entire family had continuously lectured her on her bad choices when it came to her love life. Then, she had gone on a manhunt for her boyfriend, with every intention of dumping his aristocratic arse, only to find him sick as a dog. She had practically nursed him back to health and then promised to put him in harm's way by arranging a meeting between him and her very family who hated him.
Merlin, help her indeed.
The next update will take a week or two because I have some important things coming up in my personal life that I can't ignore.
I had originally intended to include the "dinner" in this chapter but decided against it for two reasons: the chapter would've been too long, and because I think we should all witness that event from Draco's POV. So, that is what you have to look forward to in the next chapter and I have loads of plans for it (insert maniacal laugh here).
I hope you all liked this chapter. Please do review and let me know. Until next time!