Many thanks and a big hug to Aerileigh for being my beta. And a big thank you to all my readers and reviewers. I really do appreciate the reviews wholeheartedly.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Harry Potter Universe.


Ginny let out a frustrated groan as she turned onto her side and read the glowing red numbers on the clock. Yet again, she'd been woken by another dream including Draco Malfoy, a lack of clothing and a warm bed of sand. He had invaded her dreamscape, the one place that she could bask in the hot rays of the sun and feel the beach water lapping at her toes. Her dreams were supposed to be relaxing, but for the past few nights, ever since his knees had bumped hers under the table, he was on her beach in nothing but a pair of swim trunks. However, every time she went to slide the swim trunks down, she would jump out of her sleep with beads of sweat dripping down her skin and a terrible aching in between her legs.

A rumble of thunder boomed overhead, and she let out a sigh. It was the fourth thunderstorm of the week, and she had an awful time trying to sleep through them once she was awake. She untangled herself from her blankets, grabbed her wand, and padded across the room to her kitchen. She was parched, and the hoarseness in her throat made her guess that she had been moaning in her sleep. With the way that dream-Draco worked his fingers, it didn't surprise her. Those long, tapered fingers were talented indeed.

"Aguamenti." A thin stream of water poured from her wand and filled the pitcher she had set out. They did have a pipe, but she much preferred the taste of the water from her wand. "Jax!"

She filled Jax's water bowl as the Kneazle came sashaying in the room. He wound his way around her legs before lapping up the water excitedly.

Once her thirst was quenched, she moved back into the main room and picked a book from her shelf, but a flash of lightning struck overhead, and the whirring of the fan stopped, as the glowing light of the clock turned out. The flat was submerged in darkness as the street lights went out, and she sighed, lighting the tip of her wand. She slid the book back into its spot and went to the bathroom, turning the taps of the pipe on and stopping the drain. She figured if the power was out and she couldn't sleep, she might as well take a nice, long bath.

She removed a few candles from the cupboard and placed them around the tub, whispering, "Incendio."

She stripped out of her clothes before sinking down in the cool water of the tub. Water flowed from the faucet, and she uncorked a few bottles and poured different colored substances in the water. Within seconds, bubbles and suds covered the surface of the water, and she let out a giggle. Bubble baths never failed to make her feel like a little girl all over again—even if it was after a dream that reminded her of how much she was an adult.

A shudder ran through her at the thought of Draco Malfoy. She had seen him once or twice after they had tea together. He was in the hospital often as her. She found herself spending more time at the hospital with the kids than at work. If anyone noticed, they didn't say anything, especially not after Astoria was convicted of leaking confidential files to the press.

That's where the hospital came in. As much as she wished she were the type of person who could stay in bed all day, she wasn't. She talked about it a lot, fantasized about not doing anything, but she could never actually commit to a lazy day at home. So she found herself taking her personal days and spending time at the hospital. It was a better way to spend her time than in the office, looking for leads for her next capture—or kill.

During her rounds, she always saw Draco. He was either wandering the floors, peeking into the rooms, or in the Tea Room. They would have casual conversations that turned into innuendos that never failed to make Ginny lock herself in the bathroom and splash cold water on her face. The man had a penchant for seductive speech, and Ginny knew it would only be a matter of time before she shoved him into one of the supply closets and had her wicked way with him.

She sank her head back against the tub and turned the pipes off with her foot.

Draco had proven to be quite the conundrum. He was friendly. She never thought she would ever describe Draco Malfoy as friendly. She knew that somewhere out there, her ancestors and his were rolling around in their graves, wondering how their bloodlines could have gone so wrong. But the two had even had a discussion about Quidditch—a heated discussion about their favorite teams—which had ended in a comment about handling Draco's broom.

She had yet to meet a man who wasn't put off by her candor and innuendo. But Ginny refused to change her speech for anyone, and Draco didn't seem to mind. He seemed to enjoy her conversation, and she enjoyed being able to be so open with her personality. Ginny wondered what it would be like to go on a date with him.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" she exclaimed to the empty bathroom.

Ginny lifted herself from the tub and dried off, exiting the bathroom in search of something to wear. She slipped into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and threw her hair up into a ponytail. A sudden chill encompassed her, and as she reached for a sweater, a sliver of moonlight stretched through the clouds outside and landed on her arm. Her eyes flitted to the window, and the clouds began to clear away, showing her what was keeping her awake. It wasn't Draco, though she didn't doubt he had a part in it; it was the moon—the full moon.

A slew of curses flew from her mouth, and she shoved her feet into her boots, grabbed her wand, and Disapparated.


"Romilda!" Ginny burst onto the floor and accosted Romilda, who was sitting behind the Healer's station. "How are they?"

Romilda glanced at Ginny, shocked by her presence. "They're fi—"

"It's a full moon," Ginny said, cutting Romilda off.

"Ginny, calm down." Romilda stood from her chair and directed Ginny to sit in it. "I know that it's a full moon."

"Did they transform?" asked Ginny meekly, knowing the answer. It wasn't the first time that they had transformed since Ginny knew them, but the thought of the painful process wasn't one that Ginny could get used to. "Are they—will they be alright?"

"I tell you this every month, Ginny. They'll be fine. This is a completely natural unnatural process," Romilda said with a comforting smile. "Are you feeling alright?"

Ginny nodded her head. "I'll be fine. I need something to drink."

"Here, I have something for you." Romilda opened one of the drawers to Ginny's right and pulled out a short, round bottle. "Go up to the Tea Room, ask for a cup of green tea with ice, and pour some of this in it. It will cheer you up."

Ginny looked at Romilda with a skeptical expression. "Are you going to try and poison me?"

Romilda laughed. "No. I got this as a gift from one of the Healers. It's just a bit of whiskey."

Ginny shook her head and pushed the bottle away. "I want to be clearheaded when they get back, but the tea sounds like a good idea."

"Suit yourself," Romilda said with a shrug.

"On second thought, a small bit won't hurt, right?" Ginny stopped Romilda from putting away the bottle. "You'll come get me when they get back?"

"Yes," Romilda said, laughing. She winked at Ginny. "I have a sobering potion around here somewhere, too."

Ginny thanked Romilda and made her escape with the bottle clenched in her hand. The girls were taken outside when they transformed, forced to stay in separate, warded areas. Once, Ginny had gone with them, but she couldn't do that anymore; she was not able to bear hearing their cries of pain during the transition. She had caused pain before—she had made people scream out in fear of their death and had then delivered it, slowly and painfully. She paused on her way up the stairs and uncorked the bottle, taking a swig. The liquid burned as it slid down her throat, and she continued to walk up the stairs.

The Tea Room was empty when she reached it, the old lady behind the counter missing. Ginny didn't bother to try and find her, instead choosing a seat close to the window and away from the door. She took the cap off the bottle and drank straight from it, the liquor stinging the back of her throat and causing her eyes to burn. But she didn't bother to get water or wash the liquor down. She embraced the vile taste and set a half-empty bottle down on the table with a heavy thud.

Any time she thought of her work, of what she did, an awful feeling encompassed her. No matter how much time passed, she couldn't shake the feeling that what she was doing was wrong. She hurt people for a living. They weren't good people, though. These were the people that hurt her family and her friends. That was how she consoled herself and staved off the guilt, even if only for a small while. She took another sip of the whiskey and cringed.

At first, her work hadn't seemed terrible at all. She had reveled in the idea that she was doing something good: taking Death Eaters off the streets and putting them behind bars. Even after she killed someone for the first time, she told herself that she was doing something good. But the subsequent times after that, the times when a cold, ruthless feeling overcame her, she realized that something was wrong. She began to enjoy it too much, and the guilt that began to build threatened to ruin her.

"Ahh, hello, Mr. Malfoy. Some tea?"

Ginny, in her drinking haze, turned to her right and saw Draco standing at the counter. He couldn't see her; his view was blocked by the potted plant. More importantly, she suspected that he didn't expect anyone to be sitting in the Tea Room when it was nearing the midnight hour. She didn't know why he was there, but she wanted to find out. And as she took a swig of her drink, she decided that she was going to go up to him and ask him.

She stood to her feet, a warmth suffusing her body, and stalked over to Draco, whiskey clenched in her hand. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

He turned to the side and looked at her, an eyebrow raised. "Not that I don't love seeing you in little-to-no clothing, but what in Merlin's name are you wearing?"

For the first time since she left her flat, she looked down and realized she looked utterly ridiculous. Her t-shirt was three sizes too small, and her shorts were meant to be worn in the house alone. She crossed her arms over her midriff, blushing at how ridiculous she looked, especially considering she was also wearing a pair of dragon hide boots. She now knew why Romilda had looked so shocked when she burst onto the floor, and why she had asked her if she was feeling alright. Ginny looked—and felt—like a mad person.

"Er, I was in a hurry," Ginny said quietly.

Draco nodded and smirked at her. "I can tell."

"And what are you doing here?" Ginny asked, her voice petulant.

"Another tea, Gladys," Draco said to the old lady, who was staring at Ginny with a horrific expression on her face. "With two sugars, to go."

Gladys nodded. "Of course."

"Well?" Ginny resisted the urge to tap her foot impatiently.

Draco paid for the tea and handed Ginny a cup. "Come on."

Ginny walked behind him and dangled her whiskey bottle from one hand and held the tea in another. She hesitantly took a sip of the tea, wondering why Draco knew how she took her tea. But she didn't worry about it too long, instead gasping and spluttering when the tea scalded her tongue.

"That's hot," Ginny said, holding up the tea cup.

"Well, I thought you would know that tea was hot. I guess you aren't as smart as I thought," he said amusedly.

"I am plenty smart," Ginny remarked, her hand moving and tea sloshing over onto her skin. She yelped, a slew of curses flying from her mouth. "That's fucking hot."

Draco gazed at her with a look that clearly questioned her sanity before plucking the tea cup from her hand. "I don't think you need tea after all."

"I don't." Ginny struggled with the lid of the whiskey, plucking it off and taking another sip. "I've got this."

"And it's done you good so far." He opened a door to his left and motioned for her to step inside. "Come in."

Ginny snorted and began to walk towards the door. "What? You live at the hospital?"

"No," Draco answered quickly. "These rooms are all along the hallway. It's for when families want some privacy."

Ginny walked into the room, observing the small area. It was modeled after a sitting room, with two sofas, a coffee table and a small wireless. There were old Quidditch magazines and a copy of last month's Witch's Weekly on the table, from which Harry's smiling face beamed up at Ginny. She scowled and placed her bottle on top of his face, inwardly laughing as the picture of Harry tried to peek out from behind her bottle.

"So why are you walking around the hospital sloshed?" Draco helped her to sit down and sat across from her, propping his feet up on the table. "I'm assuming you don't usually do this."

"I'm not happy," Ginny said frankly, leaning forward.

"This led to drinking alcohol in a hospital—makes perfects sense," Draco said wryly.

Ginny rolled her eyes and stared at him. "The twins are changing tonight. They were bitten by werewolves, and tonight is a full moon."

"I'm sorry," Draco said hesitantly.

"That's not why I'm unhappy—part of the reason, but not the entire reason." Ginny sighed, not caring that she was pouring her heart out to Draco Malfoy. "I'm a terrible person. Worse than you."

"How so?"

"I kill people. Did you know that?" Ginny sighed and took a swig of the whiskey, smacking her lips. The taste wasn't as unbearable now. "I don't even feel sorry that I'm killing them when I do it. I feel happy. Then I feel guilty because I felt happy that I killed someone. I'm an awful witch."

Ginny leaned back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. She was in a happy daze, and it seemed the most natural thing to be spilling her innermost thoughts out to Draco Malfoy. She didn't see or care when he removed the whiskey bottle from the table and set it on the floor by his foot. The only thing she noticed was when he sat down beside her and gray eyes met brown. She didn't know why his eyes fascinated her so much, but in that moment, she just wanted to reach up and kiss him.

"I'm a bad person. My job makes me kill people, and I don't even give it a second thought," Ginny whispered.

"If you were a bad person, you wouldn't be on the verge of crying," Draco remarked casually.

"Have you ever killed someone?" Ginny shook her head. "Don't answer that."

"No, I haven't." Draco tensed when her head slipped to his shoulders. "Ginevra?"

"I'm awake," she murmured. "Have you ever hurt someone?"

Draco chuckled humorlessly. "Many people."

"So have I," Ginny admitted. She traced a pattern on his leg, delighting in the way his body shivered. "I might hurt you."

"I can take care of myself," he said proudly.

Ginny yawned. "I bet."

Before she could process what was happening, her eyes were closing, and Draco's laugh sounded muffled and far away. She tried to resist the temptation of falling asleep, but it was too hard, and she drifted off into a deep sleep.


Ginny woke up with a small groan, keeping her eyes closed. Her head was pounding, and her body ached. She suspected her body aching had a lot more to do with the hard surface on which she was sleeping—the hard, warm, moving surface. She opened her eyes, immediately regretting the move when her head began to pound. But she didn't shut her eyes, though she desperately wanted to, too fascinated by the fact that she was sleeping on top of someone. Her gaze moved from a shirt covered chest and up to a pale collarbone before finally landing on the face of Draco Malfoy, his eyes closed and his breathing even.

She surmised that she must have fallen asleep on him last night. She didn't know why he wouldn't have left her there on the sofa, which would have been a little more comfortable than the two of them crammed together. Although, she now realized that their bodies were pressed together, and she could feel every inch of him underneath her. Every inch.

"Good morning." Draco let out a yawn and gazed down at her through hooded lids.

"Er, morning," Ginny said hoarsely, smiling as she felt something hard pressing against her leg. She knew it was his morning reaction, but she couldn't help saying, "Happy to see me?"

The pink that stained Draco's cheeks was adorable. "I don't have a witty retort to that statement so I'll keep my mouth shut."

"A first," Ginny teased. They descended into silence, and Ginny wiggled her fingers to regain some feeling in her hand. "Thank you for last night—for not, well, just thanks."

"Don't make it a habit," Draco joked. "I can't have redheads sleeping on me and cutting off my blood flow every night."

"I'm pretty sure your blood flow is working appropriately." Ginny winked and was rewarded with a deep chuckle that reverberated through his body and hers. Her face became serious when his hand reached up and tugged on the end of the ponytail. "Who are you?"

"Draco Malfoy. Did the drinking affect your memory too?" asked Draco with an amused smile.

"You know what I mean," Ginny said, frustrated. "You're not the arrogant, egotistic, pain-in-the-arse Draco Malfoy that you're supposed to be. I'm having a hard time trying to put you in a category."

"You haven't known me long enough to put me in a category." Draco's hands reached up and tugged her hair out of the ponytail, causing her red tresses to spill onto his arm. "We're strangers to one another, Ginevra."

"Are we? We went to school together for six years," Ginny said, biting her lip as he ran his hand through her hair. She loved when people played in her hair. "I know you."

"No, you don't." Draco paused for a moment before continuing. "I didn't know you then, and you didn't know me either. We saw each other from afar. You know the Malfoy name."

"And isn't that who you are? A Malfoy?" pressed Ginny.

"A name doesn't define you," Draco said stoically.

Ginny stared up into those eyes that so fascinated her. It was almost like an obsession. But they changed colors, reflecting his emotional state. He was closed off now, his eyes steely and cold. Moments ago, when he woke up, his eyes had been cloudy with sleep. Last night, though, she remembered staring into them and seeing dark gray, stormy eyes. Every time she saw him, she looked into his eyes.

She wriggled her way up his body until her face hovered above his own, her fingers idly moving across his face. She traced the bones in his face, from the strong jawbone all the way to the bridge of his nose. His skin felt soft against her fingertip, and she moved her finger down until it pressed against his lips. She traced the outline of his very kissable lips. And without thinking, she brought her lips down on his.

He didn't react, but she nipped his lower lip, refusing to give up. She knew he wanted it as much as she did, and when his hands threaded through her hair, scratching against her scalp, he proved just how much he wanted it. Their lips moved against each other softly at first, but the kiss became rough and passionate, and Ginny had a hard time keeping herself propped up on her elbows.

Draco must have gathered as much because he, in a complicated movement that caused much struggle, switched positions with her. She found herself sandwiched between the soft cushions of the sofa and Draco's hard body. Desperately, she reached up to toy with the buttons of his shirt, bringing her knees up on either side of him and allowing him to settle in between her thighs. When his hand brushed against her stomach, sliding up under her shirt, she arched up into him—and his hand grazed across the underside of her breast.

But when she broke the kiss to let out a moan and struggled with his shirt buttons, he froze, his entire body tense. Confusion and anger swept through her when he stood up and did up the shirt buttons that she had managed to unbutton.. He made a hurried excuse about having somewhere to be and dashed from the room before Ginny could even process what had happened. When she did, her anger grew to exponential heights, and if she cared to admit it, she felt hurt and used.

She stood up and fixed her shirt, then transfigured an abandoned tea cup into a sweater. She pulled it on and cast a spell on her shorts to lengthen them before pulling her hair back in a ponytail. Ginny didn't plan on allowing Draco to run off without so much as an explanation. She had felt his erection nestled against her, and she knew he wanted her. And perhaps she was a bit of a masochist. Maybe she enjoyed the pain that would come when she was rejected by Draco Malfoy. Either way, she was going to get to the bottom of it.

She stomped out of the room, ignoring the frightened faces of a couple passing by, and made her way down the stairs. It wasn't until she reached the ground floor that Ginny became aware of the fact that she had no idea where she was going. She didn't know where Malfoy could be at this moment in time. It was probably unlikely that he was still in the hospital after his quick escape, and she had no idea where he lived. She leaned against the wall next to the door and shook her head. Perhaps it was for the best. She didn't know what she would say if she encountered Malfoy.

Ginny sank down onto the floor, scooting over so that she wasn't in the way of the door. She didn't know what had happened to her over the past few weeks. She was acting irrationally by having this strange attraction to a Malfoy and pulling away from her work. The last part was the most surprising in retrospect. For the past few years, she had been all about her job. She didn't question anything related to her work—not often anyway. Lately, that was all she had been doing. More importantly, she was questioning her character and her morals.

She shook her head and readied herself to get up. As she did, the door opened and someone swept up the stairs past her, someone she knew. There was only one reason she knew of that Marcus would be visiting the hospital: Draco Malfoy. She almost called out to him, but instead, she followed him up the stairs, keeping her footsteps silent. He seemed to be in a hurry, and Ginny was surprised when he got off on the third floor: Potion and Plant Poisoning. She waited a minute before she followed him onto the floor, stepping aside when a woman strolled past her with a cart full of potions, some steaming, others fizzing and emitting clouds of smoke.

"Er, excuse me," Ginny called to a Healer passing by.

The Healer stopped and looked at her with a smile. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Marcus Flint. It's a work emergency. We work in the Magical Law Enforcement Department," Ginny said with a placating smile. "He told me he would be here visiting."

"Yes, he comes every day to visit one of our patients," the Healer said. "Room 302."

"Thank you," Ginny said.

There was something wrong, and Ginny didn't know if she wanted to know what. Then again, she had been searching for answers, and apparently, room 302 held the key. She walked towards the room, counting down the numbers as she went. The door to the room was turned, and she didn't know if she should knock or just push it open. She knocked and waited for someone to open the door and was not at all surprised to see Marcus, though he was surprised to see her. It was when she looked behind Marcus that her mouth fell open, and she gasped.

"You're a patient?"