Save by VanillaPuF

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 4
Published: 25/03/2004
Last Updated: 25/03/2004
Status: Completed

One-Shot. After a period of battling, Ginny bandages an unconscious Draco's wounds.




1. save
-------

**Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter universe does not belong to me.
**A/N:** Several bunnies whispered this in my ear last night. Please **review** and show them
they�re doing their job.
. . .
She bandaged his wound, silently. She did not speak as she knotted the white cloth around his
chest.

She wondered what she would say to those who asked her why she was doing it. She would explain
that she was saving *a* life, not *his* life.

She watched as the blood spread quickly, staining the cloth a deep crimson. Was this what this
battle was about? Was this what so many had died to keep pure? It was no different than the blood
which had flowed from Hermione�s wounds, no different from the blood from Ernie MacMillan�s slit
throat. She watched, entranced, as the redness seeped into the bandage, weaving an intricate
pattern as it flowed from thread to thread.

She looked at his hand, at the ornate ring which he wore, and the jewel which encased a bit of
the same blood. Pride was what this was about, not the blood. The blood was all the same � red,
reeking, and thick. She wanted to smash the gem on his hand, to rip off his bandages now that they
had stuck to his skin, so that it would pull away more flesh, and *all* of his blood would be
spilt in just revenge.

She looked at the sword which lay by his side, grand and silver, heavy and sharp. It was stained
with another�s blood. Likely considered unpure. If he lived tonight, would he clean it from the
blade, and wrinkle his nose and attempt not to let it touch him? Was that what he would do? Was
this what she saved him for? Should she kill him with it? Stab it through his pale chest? Would it
not be righteous, would it not illustrate the phrase *he who lives by the sword, should be killed
by the sword**?

Still she hesitated, her wand in her hand, not yet uttering the healing charms.

She looked at his own wand, tucked into his waistband. She withdrew it, and marveled at its
craftsmanship. It was long, made of the finest ebony, with delicate engravings. As she scrutinized
it closer still, she realised these gravings were part of an elaborate design of snakes and thorns.
She held it out, wondering who else it had been pointed at. She moved her arm to the left and
directed it at his throat. Would it not be poetic justice to kill him with the wand which was so
carefully decorated to honor him? Would the irony not be perfection?

She dropped the wand, suddenly breathing too quickly, and it clattered against the stone
floor.

She could not kill him. She would not kill him. It would not be righteous, just, or perfect. It
would be what he would do. Wouldn�t he kill her? Should she not show that she was better than him,
elevated above him in ethics, despite her being lower in class?

The room was dark. The torch mounted on the wall upon which his unconscious body leaned only
shed light on them. It was the only light in the room.

She looked around. Who would know, if she killed him or if she saved him? Either way both would
be done in anonymity, safely shrouded by the darkness of the dungeon. She picked up her wand from
the floor, out of a small puddle of blood, likely that which had flowed from his wound before he
fell to the floor. She brought her hand up, to look at the blood which stained her fingers.

No, this blood was the same. The same which had stained her stockings as she cradled Colin�s
corpse the week before. It was not any better than any one else�s, and it certainly was fleeing his
body quickly. She knew she must make her decision soon.

She lit her wand with a hoarse *Lumos* and looked around the now illuminated room. There
was another body, farther away. She rose and slowly walked over to inspect it. She stood over the
corpse in shock, the bloody wand in her hand nearly slipping through her stained figures as she
recognized it. This was Lucius Malfoy. He had been stabbed, perfectly through the heart.

She whirled around to look back at Draco�s form, hunched near the wall. Her eyes flew to the
sword by his side. It was stained with *pure* blood, it was stained with his father�s. He had
killed his father. He had�

She ran to his side, saying the healing spells, their Latin words slurring and spilling from her
lips, and thus not rendering effective.

She must save him, she mustn�t be too late. He had killed his father for a reason, a righteous,
just, perfect reason. He didn�t wish to be like the others, he wasn�t the same, he was not what she
thought he was.

What he was now was dead. Too late. Too much pure blood had been lost.

Ginny cried. She should have saved him. But she couldn�t save him.

He had saved himself.
**. . .**
Quote is from *Revelation 13:10.
Review if you wish.



