(Untitled)

[dmalfoy_purbld]

Characters: Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley
Location: Malfoy Manor, then the clinic
Time: late Sunday afternoon
Rating: PG for now

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[fire_n_freckles]

From her office, Ginny could hear a door being opened and closed. She looked up from the patient's file she'd been updating, slightly startled and reaching for her wand. The store above her should have been empty by now, and her brothers should be making their way out, as well. By all counts, mysterious noises should not be filtering into her office and disturbing her from the notes she needed to be making.

Her hand felt its way around the desk and finally wrapped around her wand. She stood slowly, with nearly no grace and stumbled a bit to the doorway. Taking more time than necessary, she opened the door to the waiting room and then leaned against the door frame.

There before her stood a familiar blond, and she rolled her eyes. He didn't need to be there. Why was he there? He hadn't bothered to respond to her updates, not even to wish her a Happy Holiday, and so now he shows up out of no where for no good reason when they hardly had that sort of relationship?

It didn't make sense to her, but she didn't know what to say more than, "Hullo there, Malfoy. Having a good evening?"

[dmalfoy_purbld]

Draco turned his head to her and stumbled a bit. He'd forgotten the layout of the clinic and his back had been turned to her office. Instinctively, he reached out to stabilize himself. "Not evening yet, Weasley. Just checking on my investment."

He hadn't been around, hadn't responded to anything, that was true. Merlin, he'd mostly forgot he was even involved in the damned operation. Still, he needed something that was not quite as completely horrific as wallowing in more drink, and this seemed the best option.

"Still afternoon. Remember? Curfew? Or does your kind not think about what you've put the rest of us through?" His mouth was far too loose tonight, but he wasn't quite aware enough to keep it in check, or even know how loose he was being.

[fire_n_freckles]

Perhaps it was earlier than she thought it was. She'd forgotten Malfoy would need to be home before Sun Down. Still, she wondered what made this the last stop for him.

"My kind? You mean, those who weren't idiots during the war and therefore don't need to be punished for their non-mistakes?" Ginny didn't know what Draco meant by 'her kind', but she felt slightly elated that 'her kind' were no where near associated with 'his kind'. It was the natural order of things, she felt.

Gesturing to the couch, she told him, "Have a seat." It came out more a command than an offer, something like how her mother would have offered a seat. She also didn't wait for him to get comfortable and instead summoned the tea-making kit from her office.

[dmalfoy_purbld]

Draco bristled. Idiots? He wasn't an idiot! How dare she?

"Idiot? Well, perhaps this idiot should take his money back? Perhaps I should make you work off this money as if it were a loan then? Would that be more appropriate? I offered money freely, Weasley. Or does that not count in your book of non-mistakes?"

He walked, rather well all things considered, to the couch and sat down. "Everyone makes mistakes. It's only a matter of who learns from theirs. Don't make this into one of mine."

He didn't know what he was planning on doing if she pushed things. He only knew that she had a very feminine scent, one that Evie had worn as well. He shook his head. She was a Weasley. And she should be thankful he was deigning to be in her presence.

[fire_n_freckles]

His stumble matched her earlier one, but while she had trouble walking because she'd been born a Weasley with no natural balance, Ginny thought Malfoy had a little help with his equilibrium problem. She only wondered how much help. In her head, she counted any signs he'd been drinking.

1. Lack of balance - check
2. Quicker-than-usual temper - check
3. A less than pleasant odor on your breath - check

Somewhere in the back room, there was a bottle of hangover cure, and Ginny wondered to what extent her kind personality reached. The git was keeping her financially secure, but he deserved the pounding headache, dizzy spells, and extreme nausea if he allowed himself to get this inebriated.

She'd heard enough Malfoy Bullshit back at Hogwarts to understand his threat was actually quite harmless. Still, she felt the tiniest bit apprehensive about making him angry enough to take away her funding. She liked having the extra padding in her accounts; money might not be everything, but at the moment, it was certainly something.

"And what did you learn from your mistakes?" she asked, with less bite than he had, then went back to preparing his cup of tea. "Milk, sugar, lemon?"

[dmalfoy_purbld]

He looked at her quickly, then decided that was a bad idea. He settled for staring at the tea service. "Milk and sugar, please, no lemon." He still had manners. She may be a Weasley, and he may be drunk, but manners were far too ingrained.

"You can ask the Ministry. I've only had one glitch, and that was curfew related. I don't go killing people randomly, or hexing people senseless. What more do you want? You know I failed--" his voice broke and he hung his head in his hands. He failed Voldemort. He didn't kill Dumbledore. He couldn't, but did that matter to her? Did it matter he was tortured because of it? She knew some of it. She had to. He knew the Order talked.

[fire_n_freckles]

"I guess there is that, at least."

If she wasn't so well acquainted with him, she might think he'd been asking for her approval. But she was well aware that he didn't need approval and certainly not from her - a Weasley. Malfoys were too good for Weasleys, everyone "knew" that. And she knew him far too well to think he could be a character in need of absolution.

Yet there was something about his mood that was distinctly un-Malfoy like. Almost like his Malfoy confidence - or maybe the Malfoy arrogance - was off-center just the tiniest bit, probably altered by any alcohol she assumed (knew) he consumed. Either way, her compassionate side felt like forgiving him. Certainly he'd chosen much of his life, but everyone made the best decisions they could in times of war. He just made the wrong ones.

She couldn't forgive just yet, though, not so easily. Forgiveness might be something given because it is needed, not deserved, but she had a little stubborn rooted in her Weasley genes.

She changed directions and handed him his cup of tea, but even as she physically tried to move on, she blurted, "It's good that you've learned. You've grown for the better... Sort of like Severus at your age, yea?"

[dmalfoy_purbld]

Sort of like Severus

Draco snorted. "So I suppose you're telling me I'm not worth more than a half-blood werewolf's affections then? That I'll be alone for the next twenty years?"

Being alone burned. Constant rejection wasn't something a Malfoy was taught to deal with. It was beyond their vocabulary, and yet, he was finding it more and more part of his.

He took his tea and sipped it slowly, eyes blinking in the steam. The stinging helped. He liked it. It felt like something comforting, something beyond emotional pain.

Severus...the only person who hurt him more than Evie right now. Grand, both of them in the same thought. Draco wanted to hurt more and drank the tea quickly, choking and sputtering on the hot liquid.

[fire_n_freckles]

She blinked, unsure she was hearing right.

So I suppose you're telling me I'm not worth more than a half-blood werewolf's attractions then? That I'll be alone for the next twenty years?

Of course, she'd not once sat around and pondered what Malfoy might be thinking, feeling, needing. But if she had, never would she have guessed he wanted to not be alone, desiring companionship, hoping for something like affection. It surprised her to see him as a person and not a statue.

"I don't think that," she told him. It was half true. For one thing, she'd never considered who he might end up with for a partner. For another, she thought he wanted to be alone. A foolish thing to think, now that she thought about it. "I don't," she repeated, removing some of the shock, as much as she could.

When he started choking on his tea, her initial reaction was to do something. Grab a towel, perform the Heimlich, maybe fetch some water; this last one seemed redundant for a person choking on a liquid. But for the life of her, Ginny didn't know why she jumped up to pat his back like her mum had done all those years for not only her, but all of her brothers, her father, and Harry. Later, she would decide to blame her Healer instincts.

[dmalfoy_purbld]

Draco coughed, nodding and setting his cup on the coffee table. "I...was even nice...to her...courted her properly..." he began muttering, not realizing or caring it was Ginny Weasley he was spilling this to.

He didn't want to be Severus. Didn't want to have no one. Didn't want to end up miserable, manipulative and blackmailing. He wanted to be confident, secure, happy.

He inhaled her scent deeply and closed his eyes, picturing Evie in his mind.

[fire_n_freckles]

There are times when it's best not to say anything at all. Right now felt like one of those times for Ginny. She knew that if Malfoy had been in a right state of mind, he wouldn't be saying these things to her, and really, she wondered if there was a way to block out all of it. It felt like a violation of his privacy to listen to his personal thoughts when their relationship had never been considered a personal one and at times, not even an amicable one.

Still, it was purely human interest and curiosity that she wished he'd go on. She wasn't aware he'd had a relationship, or really, that he'd been "courting" someone. She wondered who it could have been; obviously someone very pretty. Probably pureblooded. Probably of high status. Ginny wondered if this mystery girl had been very skilled with magic, if she was intelligent, if she came from a big family. She wondered how much Draco liked her, genuinely liked her, and if things could have been forever if they hadn't gone wrong. This made Ginny wonder what had gone wrong.

It wasn't her place to think about these things, and it wasn't her job to comfort Malfoy, but she was a compassionate girl. She knew she had to at least try to be sweet, like she'd done for countless other friends so many times.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, rubbing his back slowly and lightly scratching with his nails. She moved a little closer, hoping her physical closeness would make him feel warm and not ill. She couldn't quite bring herself to tell him he deserved better, so she hoped that he could garnish some sort of comfort from her actions instead.

[dmalfoy_purbld]

Somehow, in the midst of his grief and drunken haze, he sought out the comfort she offered. Draco leaned into her touch, but only slightly, as if he would lean his head on her shoulder if she let him. Still, he held himself aloof, or tried.

"The Pendragon, flowers, trinkets." He reached for his cup, tried to drink out of it and frowned when he saw it was empty.

"What good is the Malfoy name, fortune, if it doesn't mean...if even being a gentleman..." he shrugged. "I can be a gentleman. I...had started to hope," he shrugged, "Not that I deserve even that. HE made sure of it."

Who the he was, didn't really register. Draco wasn't sure himself if it was Voldemort, or Severus, or his own father.

"She was brilliant, adaptive. The way she touched my hair, the way she smiled and held herself high, even at my parents' house. She should have been born to high society. She belonged with us. And it showed."

He stopped for a moment, then leaned back into the couch, not realizing Ginny's arm was still in the way as he stared at the ceiling. "Then, she got an opportunity. And, now, France...means more."

[fire_n_freckles]

Still, words escaped the red head. It seemed better, somehow, not to comment. Besides, what experience did she really have to speak of? A few short lasting relationships when she was a kid. She still hadn't been in an adult relationship; she didn't know if Malfoy had done it wrong. And, even if he had, how can she fault him that? Ginny still hadn't had the opportunity to muck it up.

The idea of scooting closer didn't appeal to her, but strangely, neither did the idea of backing away. True, she liked to take care of people, and yes, Malfoy was clearly in pain. But, a voice in her head told her to back away from him. He's dangerous, he's the enemy...

She couldn't quite bring herself to believe that it was true. The git hexed and cursed her brother, the Trio, in school. That was ages ago, though, and Draco had never been able to cause actual damage. His father, sure, but, well, that, wasn't him, and she'd been alone with him before. Draco, not Lucius.

Now her thoughts were getting cloudy and she wondered which of the two had been drinking, after all. She tried to push away the noise in her head, tried to pay attention to what was being said, because Draco was speaking about the girl. Honestly, the she sounded exactly like Draco's type. But she'd just up and left, and Ginny thought that even Draco deserved better than that. Sort of.

Suddenly she was trapped between the couch and Malfoy. It was awkward and uncomfortable, mostly because he limbs didn't bend that way naturally. Ginny needed to adjust herself, and so she did. She rustled around a bit, trying to find a comfortable position, still not saying anything out loud.

[dmalfoy_purbld]

She was quiet, which suited him just fine. With the heady scent of alcohol and femininity mixed, Draco's head began to swim, as if he were much more drunk than he was.

He felt her breath on his cheek and sighed. There was something very peaceful about the situation, so long as he didn't think, and that was far too easy to do.

Draco opened his mouth to say something, muttered under his breath. That his "thank you" was practically unintelligible wasn't a thought that occurred to him.

He shifted as he realized her arm was pinned behind him, not realizing the shifting brought him closer to her.

[fire_n_freckles]

Ginny had of course been raised a Weasley, so despite knowing she should keep her mouth shut (and despite the lack of words coming to her brain), she tried to force a conversation. At the very least, she was going to get him back on track to his normal self.

"I think I've got some sobering potions in the back," she told him quietly, with her Healer's Prescribing voice still there. "I know I've got a hangover cure or two, at the very least. Could you shift a little again? My arm's a bit uncomfortable."

[dmalfoy_purbld]

The lilting healer's voice she used was soothing, and certainly did not sound as if it had come out of a Weasley. It was calming and gentle.

Draco responded to it and shifted somewhat, and opened his eyes, resting his vision on the flash of her throat as she breathed.

He moaned softly, his eyes not quite rising to her lips as he tried to keep from getting dizzy.