Nothing belongs to me.
LXXII: Take My Hand
"I can't do it!"
She didn't believe him. Draco could tell. It was funny because, now, he wasn't too sure if he believed it himself.
"I can't do it." he said again, this time more to himself.
The Healers had thought it was impossible. They still did.
Draco couldn't understand why she didn't give up yet. He had, a long time ago.
It was unnerving – the way she insisted on staying here with him, in this old house. She could've gone back to St. Mungo's, leaving him with a house elf or something – that was how it was before – but no... She stayed.
Draco would never have admitted it out loud, but he was secretly grateful for Ginny Weasley.
"Just try again." she whispered, placing a hand on his knee. Draco winced.
"I can't! I can't do it!" he cried bitterly, shaking his head, "Not alone."
"But you're not alone." Ginny breathed, kneeling by his side, smiling, a little sadly. "I'm with you."
Draco looked into her eyes, trying to read the emotion written in them. He watched her get to her feet.
"Take my hand." she breathed.
He did as asked and tried again to push himself out of his chair. His legs refused.
It seemed that they had realized that they were never meant to walk again.
All his attempts to stand before had been in vain, but now it was different with Ginny. She really wanted this, didn't she? To help him…
The soft squeeze of her hand acted as a silent command, and Draco could hardly believe it when his body began to obey her.