CHAPTER 2
Ginny was in the middle of a rather enjoyable dream in which she was practicing every jinx and hex she had learned in Hogwarts on her ex-lover, Thomas, when a banging sound interrupted.
"Ginny! Darling! Unlock your door this instant!" Lucy shouted, banging on Ginny's bedroom door and brushing dust from her blazer. Traveling by floo first thing in the morning was not the grandest idea.
Ginny grumbled to herself, wondering where that deafening banging noise was coming from and why on earth the banshee in the hallway sounded so familiar.
"Ginny! You now have approximately 15 minutes to sober up, shower, dress and be in the newsroom before you are late for the staff meeting. Hello?!" Muffled grumbling. "Fine! I'm leaving." She was halfway down the hall before Ginny emerged, blearly-eyed, from the bedroom.
"Merlin Lucy, could you have been any louder?"
"Possibly," Lucy retorted, heading into the kitchen to make Ginny a strong cup of tea. "I've been trying to reach you all weekend. Tell me you haven't been 'getting over' Thomas with combinations of alcohol and ice cream?"
Ginny cringed, and a guilty look spread across her face.
"Pathetic. Go dress. Now."
Lucy laughed quietly to herself as Ginny glowered and headed back to her bedroom. By the time the tea was steeping, Ginny had made herself presentable.
"Here, drink this," Lucy added a tiny vial of hangover potion to Ginny's tea and Ginny gulped it down.
"I still cannot fathom how muggles survive without magic," Ginny replied, perking up immediately and smiling at Lucy. "A few well-placed hygienic charms, some hangover potion, and I feel almost as good as new."
Lucy shook her head and laughed again as Ginny gathered her briefcase, headed towards the fireplace, tossed in some Floo powder and shouted "Daily Prophet Lobby!"
She was dusting the soot from her pants when Lucy arrived behind her.
"So how are you doing?" Lucy asked as they made their way to the lifts.
"Well, as good as can be considered, I suppose," Ginny answered, stepping onto the crowded lift. "Friday night, I drank until I couldn't remember who Thomas was-"
"Oh, I was there," Lucy interjected. "How do you think you made it home?"
"Thanks for that by the way," Ginny smiled. "So I drank Friday, cried myself silly on Saturday, and ate about 10 pints of ice cream yesterday. I think that's all the stages of grief, right?" She asked, stepping off the lift on the 4th floor and making her way towards the conference room.
"Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Yes, I think you're going to make it."
"Well, it just seems pointless to linger, but I'm not completely heartless. He hurt me. I cared about him, but he obviously did not feel the same way about me. I don't need to continue wasting any more time with him, or even thinking of him. Somewhere out there is a man who will treat me with the same respect and love that I am willing to give him," She said, sitting down at the long table and pulling out a pad of parchment and a quill.
"That's the spirit. Since when did you become so positive, Ginny dearest?"
"Right after I burned his collection of quidditch books I accidentally, on-purpose, forgot to include in the box of things I returned to him," Ginny said with a malicious smile.
"Oh, you're delightfully evil sometimes," Lucy laughed, turning to say hello to another reporter, Mitchell, who was sitting across from them.
The room fell silent as Melanie Saunders, Daily Prophet Editor-in-chief, cleared her throat and begun the usual story assessments and assignments for the week.
"Anthony, how's that in-depth on the new dragon pox vaccine coming along?" She asked.
"It's going. I've been in contact with St. Mungo's. Seems they've been dealing with quite a few older patients suffering some intense, but not life-threatening, side effects. I have an interview scheduled this afternoon with Mr. Longbottom," he reported.
"Good. I'll expect it completed by Wednesday morning. Leo, update us on that break-in at the Ministry last week?"
"Well, from what I've been able to uncover from my sources, it seems to have been a prank; bunch of wizarding kids here from Italy on holiday. Thought it would be funny because we're a bit more uptight about that sort of thing since the war," he answered.
Melanie continued around the table, inquiring about stories and making suggestions or cutting a story when nothing had been uncovered. She asked for story ideas, then begun assigning stories. The meeting was nearly over when Ginny realized she had not been given a story yet.
"Melanie?" She asked.
"Oh yes, Ginny. I almost forgot. I'll need to see you in my office after this. Big story," She replied, moving on to instruct the interns.
Ginny sat, her knee bobbing, wondering what on earth could be so important that Melanie wanted to meet with her privately. She looked up when people started leaving. She stood and started following Melanie down the hallway, catching Lucy's eye and feeling slightly better at her reassuring nod.
"Weasley, I just wanted a quick word with you in private," Melanie said, sitting behind her large oak desk. "Nice work on the Stevens story, by the way."
"Thanks," Ginny replied.
"Have you heard about that new clinic outside Hogsmeade for war survivors? What's it called? The Dumbledore Memorial Rehabilitation Clinic?"
Ginny nodded, so filled with curiosity she felt she would explode right there on her boss' desk. She had heard rumors of the clinic and was under the impression it was still in the construction stages. Apparently, a wealthy benefactor was sponsoring the project, and considering the name, she was certain it had to be a Hogwarts alumnus.
"Well, I've received a tip that the benefactor is ready to reveal his or her identity in order to gain some publicity. And I'd like you to cover the story," Melanie said.
"Alright," Ginny excitedly agreed. This was one of the biggest story's Ginny had been assigned since the war. Everyone had been talking about this clinic for ages, yet no one really knew anything about it. She would love to break this story to the public.
"The grand opening is set for tomorrow morning at 9 A.M. The benefactor has agreed to meet up with you immediately following his speech. I'll expect a news story about the clinic as well as a small personality profile on the benefactor. You know, his reasons behind building the clinic and all. We don't have room for all that in this weeks paper, so I'll give you until next Thursday," Melanie was shuffling through some papers on her desk. She found a slip of parchment with writing scrawled across it and handed it to Ginny. "Here's the address of the clinic. Good luck."
Ginny stood and was almost to the door when she realized Melanie had not told her the name of the benefactor, but had most certainly referred to a 'he.'
"Wait, aren't you going to tell me who the benefactor is so I can do a little research on him and be more informed for our interview?" She asked.
"I'm not really certain of his name. I had it written down, but I can't seem to find it now…" Melanie trailed off and busied herself with stacking the papers on her desk. "Melanie, is there something about him I should know?"
"Oh no, not really. Just get in there, find out the facts, report the truth and don't let your personal beliefs get in the way."
"What? Melanie, I've been working here for more than six years and not one of my stories has ever held any bias. Why would you want to remind me of that for this particular story?" She asked, her mind whirling around the possibilities.
"Everyone needs reminding sometimes. Just to keep us all on track," She answered, smiling. "Would you mind looking over Marjorie's Hermione feature just to check the facts? I know you're friends with Hermione and you could call her up if there's any confusion. Thanks, Ginny. Best of luck tomorrow."
Ginny was about to reply when Melanie's assistant popped in with a stack of messages. Ginny waved to Melanie and made her way to the office she shared with Lucy, pondering what had just happened. She opened the door and was immediately bombarded with questions.
"Lucy dear, I'll explain it all over lunch. Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron at 12:30 p.m., alright? Right now I've got to get down to the archives department and find out everything I can about the Dumbledore Memorial Rehabilitation Clinic," she rattled out, quickly grabbing her briefcase and heading towards the lifts.
(A/N: I can't figure out how to put a line break and in here to separate scenes. so for now it's going to be A/N!)
"And she wouldn't tell you his name?" Lucy asked, sipping her tea.
"Not a word. She seemed distracted. I have no clue what's going on," Ginny replied, handing her empty plate to the waiter. She had just explained everything that had happened that morning to Lucy. Both were utterly confused.
"What did you find in the archives department?
"Not a damn thing about the identity of the benefactor. I even went over to the Ministry to look through their records and all I could find were work permits for the construction of the facility," Ginny replied exasperatedly
"How frustrating! This must be something really important. Melanie never calls anyone into her office just to assign a story. And she's never vague. She's always so straightforward," Lucy said.
"I know. I can't figure it out."
"Well, you only have to wait until tomorrow morning," Lucy piped up.
"True. Too true."
"Call me as soon as you find out who it is?"
"Wouldn't dream of calling anyone else."
(A/N: New scene...)
Ginny was late. Stupid clock, stupid story, stupid apparation site days away from the actual clinic, she sarcastically grumbled to herself as she glanced at the address of the clinic again and made her way down the cobblestone street leading outside Hogsmeade. She had woken up 20 minutes late because she had been too exhilarated to sleep and was unable to drift off until nearly 4 a.m. She had apparated outside Honeydukes, not quite realizing the clinic was located 3 kilometers outside the town. She was practically running and already blisters were forming on her feet and a thin bead of sweat had formed on her brow. When the tall structure finally came into view she was 10 minutes late, the ribbon-cutting ceremony had already begun and a large crowd had formed.
Impressive building, she thought, taking in the white marble façade and many sparkling windows. There was someone addressing the crowd from a podium in front of the entrance, but she was too far away to make out who the person was or the words they were speaking. Just as she was squeezing her way through the back of the crowd, applause broke out and she was just able to see the red ribbon fall from in front of the entrance doors. The crowd began dispersing, with some people entering the building and others leaving. It was then she realized she still had no idea who she was looking for.
"Excuse me, sir," she said, grabbing the attention of a short man in what appeared to be a healer uniform. "I'm Ginny Weasley, reporter for the Daily Prophet, and I was hoping you could tell me who's responsible for this clinic? I have an interview scheduled with him, but I arrived late and I'm not entirely sure who he is."
The healer nodded and opened his mouth to answer when someone standing directly behind her cleared their throat.
"Thanks, Healer Denton. I've got it." The healer smiled and walked away. "Punctuality not your forte, Weasley?"
"Not you again," She sighed, closing her eyes and willing herself to be dreaming.
Oh gods, no. Is this some kind of sick joke? Ginny thought. She had recognized that voice and promptly had the desire to sink into the earth, never to be seen or heard from again.
"Seems we meet again, little Weasley," Draco said, smirking as Ginny turned to face him. "Ah, and from that lovely expression on your freckled face I can tell you are as pleased to see me as I am to see that you're the best reporter the Daily Prophet can spare for a Malfoy."
"I quit. Good luck with your clinic, Malfoy," Ginny said, half meaning it.
"I thought Gryffindors were brave?" he sneered, obviously enjoying her discomfort.
"If I hadn't promised my editor I would behave professionally and keep my personal feelings in check, I would most certainly be hexing you at this moment, Ferret," she was trying very hard to not let anger take her.
"Now is that anyway to speak to a source?"
"No, I suppose not, but I don't particularly like you."
"That feeling is mutual. So now that we can agree to dislike each other, let's make a deal. You obviously need me to write your story. A Malfoy never needs anyone, but I would really like some publicity for the clinic. I'll pretend to tolerate you, and you can pretend to tolerate me. I'll answer your questions in my usual articulate and sophisticated way, then you'll write your story and all will be peachy. Deal?"
"I'll admit, albeit begrudgingly, you have a point. One correction," she replied, rolling her eyes. "I need to write two stories. One about the clinic, and one about its charismatic benefactor," she added with as much sarcasm as she could muster. It was worth it to see the horrified expression on Draco's pale face when he realized he would soon be sharing his life story with a Weasley.
"Fine. Follow me and we'll start this dreadfulness with a tour of the charming facility I have been painstakingly laboring over for months," He said with what could almost have been a real smile as she followed him inside the building, appalled. He was so pompous and over-the-top. He had to be joking, right? She found herself suppressing a laugh as she realized that his last statement had been sarcasm, but she quickly contained it and started taking notes.
(A/N: New scene...)
"This is our children's ward," he declared, pointing to a brightly colored hallway with toys stacked in boxes and posters tacked on the walls. "Now obviously, children didn't fight in the war, but many of them have survived raids on their homes in which they have sustained minor injuries." She nodded.
"Yes, my brother Bill's son got caught in the crossfire one night. He was lucky, the only reminder is a tiny scar over his left eyebrow."
She noticed how solemn his face had become, especially his eyes. They seemed to be hiding something she couldn't put her finger on. Sorrow, perhaps?
"I wouldn't have thought of a children's ward for a clinic like this," she said.
"Not one else did. It was my idea, actually," He replied.
"May I ask how you thought of it?" She asked tentatively. He was gazing out the window. Hogwarts could be seen in the distance. He sighed.
"My cousin. She was 10 years old when she witnessed by father's death. He had been hiding out at Bellatrix's house since he escaped Azkaban. My mother would not allow him to return to us. A year after my father's death, Susan jumped from a third story window. Her journal was found some time later. No one realized she had witnessed my father's death." He paused and turned to face her. She was horrified by this sudden revelation and struggled to think of something to say.
"Malfoy, I-"
"I'm sure you have heard enough about my aunt to know Susan wasn't exactly immersed in a loving home. She was too young to cope with what she had witnessed," He explained. His voice was steady and his face unreadable, but his eyes betrayed him. She could almost feel the heartbreak seeping from them. "I will never claim my aunt was a good person, or say she did not deserve what she eventually received at the hands of The Order, but Susan was a child, innocent and naive. Bellatrix had been in Azkaban almost Susan's entire life and had not had the opportunity to instill within her the dark arts. I set out to build this ward," he gestured towards the room, "with the hope of preventing the same fate from happening to another innocent child who got thrust into a war before their time."
Ginny nodded, fighting back a sudden urge to hug Draco. She had not known he was capable of such genuine caring for anyone other than himself and found she was at a loss for what to say now that he had informed her.
"Surprised a Malfoy has a heart, little Weasley?" He smirked and at once she felt more at ease.
She opened her mouth to respond, but he quickly ushered her from the room and towards other areas of the clinic.
Nearly three hours later Ginny had filled her entire parchment pad with notes about the facility and had even managed to procure some quotes from healers and the few patients who had already been admitted.
She was surprised to observe the repertoire Draco had with the employees and patients of the clinic. He seemed to know every healer by name, and even stopped to play a game of wizarding chess with and elderly man who was suffering the long-term effects of injuries sustained when his home was raided and destroyed by death eaters during the war.
This is definitely not the Draco Malfoy I remember from Hogwarts, Ginny found herself thinking as she followed him towards the office he had claimed as benefactor and clinic manager.
"Thought I'd stick around and manage the place for a while," He told her. "We've still got tons of hiring to do, and we're waiting on a shipment of 10 beds for the potion damage ward."
Ginny nodded and was about to ask him when he thought the facility would be completely up and running.
Just then his secretary called his attention to the meeting he would miss if he did not leave within the next 5 minutes.
"I still have a few more questions I'd like to ask you about the clinic," Ginny said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and fighting the urge to kick her heels off and rub her aching feet.
"Alright, but I really cannot miss this meeting. I'll owl you later with a time when I'm available," he replied as he slipped on his traveling cloak.
"I can't just sit around and wait for you, Malfoy," she said, the appearance and ease of her anger instantaneous. "I have a job and a life. You can't just expect me to drop everything to convenience you!" She folded her arms across her chest.
"I've already spoken to your editor so I'm very much aware that this clinic story is the only one you'll be working on for the next two weeks. And I seriously doubt you have any pressing social events on your calendar, since I was forced to bear witness to your most recent public breakup." He grinned nastily, stepped up to the fireplace and grabbed a pinch of floo powder.
"How dare you! You don't know me, I-"
"And Weasley," he interrupted, "next time, wear more sensible shoes." He smirked, glanced at her feet and disappeared into the green flames.
She huffed at the fireplace and made a lewd gesture towards it before heading back to Hogsmeade. She was sickened that she had almost entertained the idea that working with the amazing bouncing might not be too bad after all.
She stopped on the road to adjust her briefcase and couldn't help but think how he had probably just told her that sob story about his cousin to make himself seem noble and admirable.
She growled to no one in particular and stomped her aching foot in frustration, promptly snapping the heel clean off her shoe.
"Merlin how I loathe him!" She shouted. She counted to ten and apparated back to the Daily Prophet. Her expression dared anyone to question why she was limping.