Keep Your Enemies Close (4/?)
Title: Keep Your Enemies Close (4/?)
All disclaimers etc found in part 1.
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“You should really fire your maid service.”
“At least I can afford it, Weasley,” Draco growled as he looked around at what had once been his flat.
He had once prided himself on his home, but now it was barely recognizable. Furniture was smashed, trash was strewn across his floor. All of his valuables had been ripped from their shelves and left in jagged shards on the floor. His bookcase was now bare, all its contents lying about on the floor.
“Your friends know how to trash a place, Malfoy,” Harry said as he nudged some of the debris with his foot.
“They’re not my friends obviously,” he muttered, frowning at the mess before him. “The book should be in this mess somewhere.”
“Not a needle in a haystack at all,” Ron complained as all three men began to riffle through the mess on the floor.
“Just shut your mouth and search, Weasley.”
Harry rubbed his throbbing temple. “If you’d *both* just shut up for a second, we can get in and out of here.”
“Bloody hell,” Draco muttered to himself as he knelt on the floor, picking up what had once been a valuable first edition of Dark Arts through the Ages which now had its spine ripped from the body. “Does no one respect a good book anymore?”
With a snarl, he tossed the ruined book aside, going back to the task at hand. Pushing aside ripped papers and splintered wood, Draco’s fingers trailed across a photo. His search for the book stopped instantly as he stared down at the photo of the raven-haired girl. Throwing a cautious glance over his shoulder for the whereabouts of Ron and Harry, he grabbed the photo and slipped it inside his robes.
“Malfoy, the book isn’t going to be here.”
Draco didn’t look up at Harry’s voice, having returned to his search. “It’ll be here,” he said although even he was beginning to think otherwise.
Silence fell over the flat, with the exception of the sounds of debris moving about as all three men searched, and just as Draco was beginning to lose hope, he caught a glimpse of a familiar book spine in his periphery. “Gothca!” he said triumphantly as he began pushing away the broken table that covered the book.
“Malfoy!”
Draco didn’t acknowledge him as he dug the book from its hill of debris. “Hold your bloody horses, Potter, I got the book!”
Then everything seemed to happen in a flash of time.
Draco heard the familiar voice of Theodore Nott, and he turned his head in time to see the wand aimed at his back. He made an instinctive move to reach for his own, realizing only seconds later that that was a pointless move on his part. He felt the neck of his robes being yanked to the side, but he couldn’t pay attention to who was pulling on him as there was a sudden severe pain under his shoulder blades. His hands still gripped tightly to the book, he felt the familiar yank behind his navel of the portkey and closed his eyes.
When he opened them, he was sprawled out on Harry’s kitchen floor.
With Hermione and Ginny standing over them with concerned looks, Draco finally realized that it had been Harry who had grabbed a hold of him since they had fallen over each other during Harry’s reach for both him and the portkey.
“Are you okay?” Hermione asked.
“Never better,” Ron complained as Ginny held out her hand and helped her brother to his feet.
Harry pushed Draco off of him as he got to his feet beside his best friend. “We were attacked.”
Draco frowned as the throbbing in his back returned fully. He stood slowly, acting as if nothing was wrong, as he slammed the book down upon the kitchen table. “But we got your book.”
“Lucky for you, Malfoy,” Ron replied, folding his arms. “Or else you’d be on your way to Azkaban right now.”
Draco smirked, giving Harry a look. “Right, of course. Now, if you lot will excuse me-” He grimaced slightly as he turned for the staircase. “-I’ll be in my lovely room.”
Everyone watched him leave before Hermione turned to Harry and Ron. “What happened?”
“His place was already trashed when we got there,” Harry said, making his way to the table and flipping open the book. “Malfoy got his hands on the book just as a couple of Death Eaters showed up.”
“But you’re all okay?” Hermione asked, glancing from Harry to Ron and back again.
Harry nodded. “We’re fine. I grabbed Malfoy just in time.”
“I don’t think so, Harry,” Ginny said, pointing at the blood on the sleeve of his shirt.
Harry looked down, frowning. He rolled up his sleeve, but there were no marks on his arm. He looked up with a small shake of his head. “Not my blood.”
Ginny touched Hermione’s arm. “Do you have a medicwitch kit around?”
“Upstairs in the bathroom.”
Ginny nodded and started towards the doorway, but before she could go far, Ron grabbed a firm hold of her arm. “Whoa. Whoa! Where do you think you’re going?”
She rolled her eyes in response. “Well, if you’re not hurt, and Harry’s not hurt, only one person can be bleeding here.”
“So,” Ron scoffed. “Let him bleed. He’ll be fine.”
“And if it’s a serious injury?”
“Your point?”
“My *point* is that I don’t want to help him as much as you, but I can’t exactly let someone bleed out just because they’re an ass.”
Ron turned to Harry for support. “Harry, mate, please tell Ginny that she *can* let someone bleed out because they’re an ass.”
Harry chuckled under his breath but shook his head. “Let her go, Ron. Besides *I’ll* be the one listening to Malfoy’s whining if he’s seriously injured and we don’t help him.”
Ron frowned, and after another moment of hesitation, he finally released Ginny’s arm. She shook her head at him before strolling out of the kitchen.
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Alone in his room, Draco inhaled sharply as he shrugged off his robes. He tossed them onto his bed before making his way towards the dresser. Putting his back to the mirror on the dresser, Draco looked over his shoulder at his reflection. A jagged rip tore through his shirt just under his shoulder blades. The edges were lined with fresh blood, blood that he could still feel slowly trickling down his back. He hastily unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it onto his bed.
“Thanks, Nott,” Draco mumbled as he made a futile attempt to touch his oozing wound.
Nott had attempted to use a slashing spell on him. If not for Harry, the wound (though deep enough at the moment to continuously ooze blood) could have been much worse.
Knocking came upon the bedroom door, and Draco threw it an irritated look. “Potter, you’re always bitching about being in my presence,” he complained loudly at the door as he grabbed his shirt and slipped it on, not even worrying to button it. “But when I actually leave willingly, you come knocking down my damn door.”
He yanked the door open and found himself surprised to be greeted by Ginny.
“Not Harry,” she stated with a look of amusement. “But if you two would like some alone time, I can go down and fetch him if you like.”
“What do you want, Weasley?”
She held up the mediwitch kit. “You’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine,” he snapped and walked away from her.
Ginny stepped into the room and closed the door. “Yes, obviously,” she replied sarcastically.
“Look, Weasley, go patch up Potter and leave me be.”
She rolled her eyes in response. “Those little taunts of yours about Harry lost their effect a long time ago, Malfoy. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not twelve anymore.”
He gave her the once-over with a smirk. “Noticed.”
“Look, Malfoy, be the big tough guy and bleed out onto your probably expensive shirt, and at your funeral? I will gladly share how you oh-so-bravely turned down medical attention.”
“You’d come to my funeral, huh?” he grinned.
“For my last chance to mock you, yes.” She sighed impatiently. “So are you going to take off your shirt, or are you going to be a baby about all of this and force me to rip it off you?”
He smirked. “In your dreams, Weasley.”
“Nightmares, really.”
“Fine,” he replied evenly. He pulled off his shirt and turned his back to her.
Ginny frowned as she approached him. She opened the kit and placed it on the trunk at the foot of the bed. She placed her fingers on his back, and he tensed at her touch.
“If the Death Eaters are really after you, why didn’t they just use the killing curse and be done with you?”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “They don’t want me dead, Weasley. They want me punished for killing my own.”
“Why?” she asked, a frown tugging at her lips.
“Because it’s frowned upon perhaps?”
“No, I mean why did you do it?”
“I had my reasons,” he stated simply.
“And it was worth being hunted down like an animal?”
Draco hesitated for a moment before replying. “Yes.”
Ginny sighed and retrieved gauze from the open kit. “Were you planning to walk around this way forever?”
“I’m a quick healer,” he shrugged.
“And obviously a bit thick,” she said as she dabbed at the blood oozing from the wound, eliciting a hiss of pain from Draco in response. “Sorry,” she said out of habit.
“You a doctor?” he asked as she continued to clean his wound.
“Merlin, no. I’m just an assistant to the mediwizards.”
“Nurse Weasley,” he snorted and in response Ginny dabbed his wound harder. “Bloody hell!” He glared over his shoulder at her, his gaze met with a challenging one from the redhead.
“Keep in mind that *Nurse Weasley* is going against every fiber in her being and helping you right now.”
He continued to watch her as she returned to her task at hand. “Then why are you?”
“Because it’s what I do,” she shrugged and reached for her wand in her back pocket. “Now hold still.”
“Whoa!” he said quickly, turning to face her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m turning you into a ferret,” she replied irritably. “Do you want to walk around with a gaping wound just begging for an infection?”
Draco simply scowled at her, silent.
Ginny nodded, grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him back around. “Like I said, hold still.”
She placed the tip of her wand against his skin and watched every muscle in his back tense up with anticipation for what she was about to do. She took a breath before whispering an incantation, and the wound slowly healed itself over, its bleeding stopped finally as the edges of the wound pulled together.
“There,” she said, slipping her wand back into the pocket of her jeans.
“That’s it?” he asked.
Ginny shrugged. “Sorry I couldn’t put a show on for you, but yes, that’s it.”
Draco moved over to the mirror to examine the healed wound for himself. He nodded, impressed at what he saw. “Nice work.”
Ginny nodded as she picked up his robes to examine them. “Looks like this is ruined.” As she tossed it back onto his bed, something fluttered to the floor. She knelt to retrieve it and tilted her head at the photograph of a girl their age. “Who’s this?” she asked curiously.
Draco turned his attention to her and frowned. He approached her, leaning over and snatching the photograph from her hand. “Mind your own business, Weasley.”
“So who is she?” Ginny asked again, her curiosity forcing her to ignore the glare Draco was presently giving her.
“No one,” he snapped. “Thanks for the first aid, but you’ve worn out your welcome.”
Ginny folded her arms, scowling at him. “You know, Malfoy, you expect us to put some blind trust in you, but you don’t tell us anything about what you’ve been doing the past five years that isn’t vague or cryptic.”
“My life does not concern you, Weasley.”
“It does when my friends and I are putting ourselves on the line for you,” she bit back.
Draco snorted derisively. “You’re putting yourself on the line for *Potter* not me. You’re all here to help him get the book he needs so he can save the wizarding world yet again.”
The annoyance emblazoned across her face, Ginny hastily dropped her arms at her sides. “If that was the case, Harry would have left you to be finished off by your friends. He didn’t have to save you.”
“Cheers to Potter then,” he replied dryly.
“You know, Malfoy?” she said, frowning. “Just when I start to think you may have a spark of humanity in you, you prove me wrong.”
Draco studied her silently for a moment before shaking his head. “I lost my humanity a long time ago, Weasley. Keep up here.”
“Well, perhaps you should find it again, and show some gratitude to Harry *and* to the rest of us. You’re lucky you’re not fending for yourself right now.”
With that, she grabbed the mediwizard kit and stormed out, leaving Draco to watch after her with a frown.
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Ginny walked into the kitchen to see the others gathered at the kitchen table. Hermione sat with the book open in front of her, Harry standing behind her chair and reading over her shoulder. Ron sat across from them, and Ginny took the empty seat beside his.
“How is he?” Hermione asked as Ginny sat down.
“He’ll live.” She nodded towards the book. “So what’s the verdict?”
Hermione shook her head, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, it’s the right book, but….” She paused with a sigh. “Its contents are massive, and some of the text isn’t even in English. Italian, maybe? I’m not sure.” She looked up, frowning. “It could take me days, weeks even, to find the particular passage Malfoy referred to.”
Ron sighed, sitting back in his chair. “It’d help if Malfoy was as much help as he claimed.”
Hermione glanced up at Harry. “You think he knows more than he’s telling?”
Harry shrugged. “Probably. I wouldn’t put it past him, really.”
“You could always curse him until he tells the truth,” Ron suggested.
“Ron, honestly,” Ginny replied, giving her brother a disgusted look to which he replied with a casual shrug.
“Ron has a point,” Harry said, and Ron turned to Ginny with smug satisfaction. “We could give him veritaserum if necessary. See if his story changes.”
“Well, I was thinking more along the lines of actual physical curses and not potions, but I suppose that would do.”
“Curses for who?”
Everyone turned to the sound of Draco’s voice. He leaned in the kitchen doorway, watching them.
“You,” Harry replied honestly.
“Figures.”
“Is that my shirt?” Harry asked, standing up straight.
“It was in the closet in your guest room.” He pushed himself from the doorway, stepping into the kitchen. “But we have slightly bigger concerns at the moment.”
“Did I *say* you could wear my clothes?”
Draco sighed at him. “I realize, Potter, that seeing that I look better in your things than you ever could is a devastating blow to your ego at the moment, but if we could move past this? That would be wonderful.”
“What are the bigger concerns, Malfoy?” Hermione interjected before Draco and Harry could have another go at each other.
“The Death Eaters that will come knocking down your door come nightfall,” he stated as if someone had just asked him the time.
“Come again?” Harry asked, his expression grim.
“The Death Eaters had no idea where I was going. They probably figured I’d just gone into hiding. But thanks to our little fieldtrip today, they know I came to you. They know exactly where I am now, and more than likely they’re going to come for me.”
“Well, when they show up, we simply hand you over and be done with this mess,” Ron said from his seat.
“Not that easy, Weasel.” He turned to Harry as he added, “Potter knows that.”
Harry held the stare, exhaling deeply. “We fight.”
“Whoa, what?!” Ron chimed in.
Harry turned to his friends, some of the anger in his expression dissipating. “We have to fight. They’ll show up here for Malfoy, but in the end, they won’t be happy until they kill us all.” He glared at Draco. “Happens when you ally yourself with a traitor.”
“I am *not* a traitor,” Draco insisted vehemently.
“Yeah, tell that to your 20-some odd Death Eater chums who are gonna be coming here for a showdown.”
Draco shrugged. “Hey, I could always be wrong. Better safe than sorry, right?”
“You know, Malfoy, I’m really starting to think I should have killed you when I first had the chance,” Harry replied, irritated.
“You still can, you know,” Ron offered. “There’s no expiration on those sorts of deals.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I’d appreciate if you’d stop advocating my demise, Weasley.”
“As soon as you’re no longer breathing, I will,” Ron shrugged.
“So what’s the plan, Harry?” Ginny said, trying to ignore her brother and Draco attempt to match wits.
“You and Ron will stay here tonight. Safety in numbers,” he replied. “We can take turns staying up tonight. That way no one has the chance to sneak up on us.”
“Whatever, Potter,” Draco said, making his way to the refrigerator. “You’re the all-powerful leader afterall.”
“Malfoy, shut up,” Harry complained. “And take off my shirt while you’re at it.”
Draco grinned back at him. “Now?”
“Where the hell is *your* shirt anyway?”
“Damaged in the line of duty,” he shrugged. He grinned over at Ginny as he added, “Ask the smallest Weasley. She insisted on my disrobing.”
Ron instantly gaped at Ginny, who tried not to look mortified. “Ginny!”
“How exactly was I supposed to treat a wound on his back if he had his shirt on?” she asked defiantly, fixing her brother with a determined look.
“You *find* a way,” he replied in his own determined tone.
Ginny simply replied with a roll of her eyes, knowing that no argument whatsoever would get Ron off this particular soapbox.
“Is everyone quite done?” Hermione asked, eyeing everyone in the room. “We have more important things to settle out right now.”
“Like?” Ginny asked.
“Like who gets stuck with Malfoy on their shift tonight,” she replied, giving the blond a look as he closed the refrigerator door with an offended expression.
All disclaimers etc found in part 1.
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“You should really fire your maid service.”
“At least I can afford it, Weasley,” Draco growled as he looked around at what had once been his flat.
He had once prided himself on his home, but now it was barely recognizable. Furniture was smashed, trash was strewn across his floor. All of his valuables had been ripped from their shelves and left in jagged shards on the floor. His bookcase was now bare, all its contents lying about on the floor.
“Your friends know how to trash a place, Malfoy,” Harry said as he nudged some of the debris with his foot.
“They’re not my friends obviously,” he muttered, frowning at the mess before him. “The book should be in this mess somewhere.”
“Not a needle in a haystack at all,” Ron complained as all three men began to riffle through the mess on the floor.
“Just shut your mouth and search, Weasley.”
Harry rubbed his throbbing temple. “If you’d *both* just shut up for a second, we can get in and out of here.”
“Bloody hell,” Draco muttered to himself as he knelt on the floor, picking up what had once been a valuable first edition of Dark Arts through the Ages which now had its spine ripped from the body. “Does no one respect a good book anymore?”
With a snarl, he tossed the ruined book aside, going back to the task at hand. Pushing aside ripped papers and splintered wood, Draco’s fingers trailed across a photo. His search for the book stopped instantly as he stared down at the photo of the raven-haired girl. Throwing a cautious glance over his shoulder for the whereabouts of Ron and Harry, he grabbed the photo and slipped it inside his robes.
“Malfoy, the book isn’t going to be here.”
Draco didn’t look up at Harry’s voice, having returned to his search. “It’ll be here,” he said although even he was beginning to think otherwise.
Silence fell over the flat, with the exception of the sounds of debris moving about as all three men searched, and just as Draco was beginning to lose hope, he caught a glimpse of a familiar book spine in his periphery. “Gothca!” he said triumphantly as he began pushing away the broken table that covered the book.
“Malfoy!”
Draco didn’t acknowledge him as he dug the book from its hill of debris. “Hold your bloody horses, Potter, I got the book!”
Then everything seemed to happen in a flash of time.
Draco heard the familiar voice of Theodore Nott, and he turned his head in time to see the wand aimed at his back. He made an instinctive move to reach for his own, realizing only seconds later that that was a pointless move on his part. He felt the neck of his robes being yanked to the side, but he couldn’t pay attention to who was pulling on him as there was a sudden severe pain under his shoulder blades. His hands still gripped tightly to the book, he felt the familiar yank behind his navel of the portkey and closed his eyes.
When he opened them, he was sprawled out on Harry’s kitchen floor.
With Hermione and Ginny standing over them with concerned looks, Draco finally realized that it had been Harry who had grabbed a hold of him since they had fallen over each other during Harry’s reach for both him and the portkey.
“Are you okay?” Hermione asked.
“Never better,” Ron complained as Ginny held out her hand and helped her brother to his feet.
Harry pushed Draco off of him as he got to his feet beside his best friend. “We were attacked.”
Draco frowned as the throbbing in his back returned fully. He stood slowly, acting as if nothing was wrong, as he slammed the book down upon the kitchen table. “But we got your book.”
“Lucky for you, Malfoy,” Ron replied, folding his arms. “Or else you’d be on your way to Azkaban right now.”
Draco smirked, giving Harry a look. “Right, of course. Now, if you lot will excuse me-” He grimaced slightly as he turned for the staircase. “-I’ll be in my lovely room.”
Everyone watched him leave before Hermione turned to Harry and Ron. “What happened?”
“His place was already trashed when we got there,” Harry said, making his way to the table and flipping open the book. “Malfoy got his hands on the book just as a couple of Death Eaters showed up.”
“But you’re all okay?” Hermione asked, glancing from Harry to Ron and back again.
Harry nodded. “We’re fine. I grabbed Malfoy just in time.”
“I don’t think so, Harry,” Ginny said, pointing at the blood on the sleeve of his shirt.
Harry looked down, frowning. He rolled up his sleeve, but there were no marks on his arm. He looked up with a small shake of his head. “Not my blood.”
Ginny touched Hermione’s arm. “Do you have a medicwitch kit around?”
“Upstairs in the bathroom.”
Ginny nodded and started towards the doorway, but before she could go far, Ron grabbed a firm hold of her arm. “Whoa. Whoa! Where do you think you’re going?”
She rolled her eyes in response. “Well, if you’re not hurt, and Harry’s not hurt, only one person can be bleeding here.”
“So,” Ron scoffed. “Let him bleed. He’ll be fine.”
“And if it’s a serious injury?”
“Your point?”
“My *point* is that I don’t want to help him as much as you, but I can’t exactly let someone bleed out just because they’re an ass.”
Ron turned to Harry for support. “Harry, mate, please tell Ginny that she *can* let someone bleed out because they’re an ass.”
Harry chuckled under his breath but shook his head. “Let her go, Ron. Besides *I’ll* be the one listening to Malfoy’s whining if he’s seriously injured and we don’t help him.”
Ron frowned, and after another moment of hesitation, he finally released Ginny’s arm. She shook her head at him before strolling out of the kitchen.
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Alone in his room, Draco inhaled sharply as he shrugged off his robes. He tossed them onto his bed before making his way towards the dresser. Putting his back to the mirror on the dresser, Draco looked over his shoulder at his reflection. A jagged rip tore through his shirt just under his shoulder blades. The edges were lined with fresh blood, blood that he could still feel slowly trickling down his back. He hastily unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it onto his bed.
“Thanks, Nott,” Draco mumbled as he made a futile attempt to touch his oozing wound.
Nott had attempted to use a slashing spell on him. If not for Harry, the wound (though deep enough at the moment to continuously ooze blood) could have been much worse.
Knocking came upon the bedroom door, and Draco threw it an irritated look. “Potter, you’re always bitching about being in my presence,” he complained loudly at the door as he grabbed his shirt and slipped it on, not even worrying to button it. “But when I actually leave willingly, you come knocking down my damn door.”
He yanked the door open and found himself surprised to be greeted by Ginny.
“Not Harry,” she stated with a look of amusement. “But if you two would like some alone time, I can go down and fetch him if you like.”
“What do you want, Weasley?”
She held up the mediwitch kit. “You’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine,” he snapped and walked away from her.
Ginny stepped into the room and closed the door. “Yes, obviously,” she replied sarcastically.
“Look, Weasley, go patch up Potter and leave me be.”
She rolled her eyes in response. “Those little taunts of yours about Harry lost their effect a long time ago, Malfoy. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not twelve anymore.”
He gave her the once-over with a smirk. “Noticed.”
“Look, Malfoy, be the big tough guy and bleed out onto your probably expensive shirt, and at your funeral? I will gladly share how you oh-so-bravely turned down medical attention.”
“You’d come to my funeral, huh?” he grinned.
“For my last chance to mock you, yes.” She sighed impatiently. “So are you going to take off your shirt, or are you going to be a baby about all of this and force me to rip it off you?”
He smirked. “In your dreams, Weasley.”
“Nightmares, really.”
“Fine,” he replied evenly. He pulled off his shirt and turned his back to her.
Ginny frowned as she approached him. She opened the kit and placed it on the trunk at the foot of the bed. She placed her fingers on his back, and he tensed at her touch.
“If the Death Eaters are really after you, why didn’t they just use the killing curse and be done with you?”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “They don’t want me dead, Weasley. They want me punished for killing my own.”
“Why?” she asked, a frown tugging at her lips.
“Because it’s frowned upon perhaps?”
“No, I mean why did you do it?”
“I had my reasons,” he stated simply.
“And it was worth being hunted down like an animal?”
Draco hesitated for a moment before replying. “Yes.”
Ginny sighed and retrieved gauze from the open kit. “Were you planning to walk around this way forever?”
“I’m a quick healer,” he shrugged.
“And obviously a bit thick,” she said as she dabbed at the blood oozing from the wound, eliciting a hiss of pain from Draco in response. “Sorry,” she said out of habit.
“You a doctor?” he asked as she continued to clean his wound.
“Merlin, no. I’m just an assistant to the mediwizards.”
“Nurse Weasley,” he snorted and in response Ginny dabbed his wound harder. “Bloody hell!” He glared over his shoulder at her, his gaze met with a challenging one from the redhead.
“Keep in mind that *Nurse Weasley* is going against every fiber in her being and helping you right now.”
He continued to watch her as she returned to her task at hand. “Then why are you?”
“Because it’s what I do,” she shrugged and reached for her wand in her back pocket. “Now hold still.”
“Whoa!” he said quickly, turning to face her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m turning you into a ferret,” she replied irritably. “Do you want to walk around with a gaping wound just begging for an infection?”
Draco simply scowled at her, silent.
Ginny nodded, grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him back around. “Like I said, hold still.”
She placed the tip of her wand against his skin and watched every muscle in his back tense up with anticipation for what she was about to do. She took a breath before whispering an incantation, and the wound slowly healed itself over, its bleeding stopped finally as the edges of the wound pulled together.
“There,” she said, slipping her wand back into the pocket of her jeans.
“That’s it?” he asked.
Ginny shrugged. “Sorry I couldn’t put a show on for you, but yes, that’s it.”
Draco moved over to the mirror to examine the healed wound for himself. He nodded, impressed at what he saw. “Nice work.”
Ginny nodded as she picked up his robes to examine them. “Looks like this is ruined.” As she tossed it back onto his bed, something fluttered to the floor. She knelt to retrieve it and tilted her head at the photograph of a girl their age. “Who’s this?” she asked curiously.
Draco turned his attention to her and frowned. He approached her, leaning over and snatching the photograph from her hand. “Mind your own business, Weasley.”
“So who is she?” Ginny asked again, her curiosity forcing her to ignore the glare Draco was presently giving her.
“No one,” he snapped. “Thanks for the first aid, but you’ve worn out your welcome.”
Ginny folded her arms, scowling at him. “You know, Malfoy, you expect us to put some blind trust in you, but you don’t tell us anything about what you’ve been doing the past five years that isn’t vague or cryptic.”
“My life does not concern you, Weasley.”
“It does when my friends and I are putting ourselves on the line for you,” she bit back.
Draco snorted derisively. “You’re putting yourself on the line for *Potter* not me. You’re all here to help him get the book he needs so he can save the wizarding world yet again.”
The annoyance emblazoned across her face, Ginny hastily dropped her arms at her sides. “If that was the case, Harry would have left you to be finished off by your friends. He didn’t have to save you.”
“Cheers to Potter then,” he replied dryly.
“You know, Malfoy?” she said, frowning. “Just when I start to think you may have a spark of humanity in you, you prove me wrong.”
Draco studied her silently for a moment before shaking his head. “I lost my humanity a long time ago, Weasley. Keep up here.”
“Well, perhaps you should find it again, and show some gratitude to Harry *and* to the rest of us. You’re lucky you’re not fending for yourself right now.”
With that, she grabbed the mediwizard kit and stormed out, leaving Draco to watch after her with a frown.
---------
Ginny walked into the kitchen to see the others gathered at the kitchen table. Hermione sat with the book open in front of her, Harry standing behind her chair and reading over her shoulder. Ron sat across from them, and Ginny took the empty seat beside his.
“How is he?” Hermione asked as Ginny sat down.
“He’ll live.” She nodded towards the book. “So what’s the verdict?”
Hermione shook her head, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, it’s the right book, but….” She paused with a sigh. “Its contents are massive, and some of the text isn’t even in English. Italian, maybe? I’m not sure.” She looked up, frowning. “It could take me days, weeks even, to find the particular passage Malfoy referred to.”
Ron sighed, sitting back in his chair. “It’d help if Malfoy was as much help as he claimed.”
Hermione glanced up at Harry. “You think he knows more than he’s telling?”
Harry shrugged. “Probably. I wouldn’t put it past him, really.”
“You could always curse him until he tells the truth,” Ron suggested.
“Ron, honestly,” Ginny replied, giving her brother a disgusted look to which he replied with a casual shrug.
“Ron has a point,” Harry said, and Ron turned to Ginny with smug satisfaction. “We could give him veritaserum if necessary. See if his story changes.”
“Well, I was thinking more along the lines of actual physical curses and not potions, but I suppose that would do.”
“Curses for who?”
Everyone turned to the sound of Draco’s voice. He leaned in the kitchen doorway, watching them.
“You,” Harry replied honestly.
“Figures.”
“Is that my shirt?” Harry asked, standing up straight.
“It was in the closet in your guest room.” He pushed himself from the doorway, stepping into the kitchen. “But we have slightly bigger concerns at the moment.”
“Did I *say* you could wear my clothes?”
Draco sighed at him. “I realize, Potter, that seeing that I look better in your things than you ever could is a devastating blow to your ego at the moment, but if we could move past this? That would be wonderful.”
“What are the bigger concerns, Malfoy?” Hermione interjected before Draco and Harry could have another go at each other.
“The Death Eaters that will come knocking down your door come nightfall,” he stated as if someone had just asked him the time.
“Come again?” Harry asked, his expression grim.
“The Death Eaters had no idea where I was going. They probably figured I’d just gone into hiding. But thanks to our little fieldtrip today, they know I came to you. They know exactly where I am now, and more than likely they’re going to come for me.”
“Well, when they show up, we simply hand you over and be done with this mess,” Ron said from his seat.
“Not that easy, Weasel.” He turned to Harry as he added, “Potter knows that.”
Harry held the stare, exhaling deeply. “We fight.”
“Whoa, what?!” Ron chimed in.
Harry turned to his friends, some of the anger in his expression dissipating. “We have to fight. They’ll show up here for Malfoy, but in the end, they won’t be happy until they kill us all.” He glared at Draco. “Happens when you ally yourself with a traitor.”
“I am *not* a traitor,” Draco insisted vehemently.
“Yeah, tell that to your 20-some odd Death Eater chums who are gonna be coming here for a showdown.”
Draco shrugged. “Hey, I could always be wrong. Better safe than sorry, right?”
“You know, Malfoy, I’m really starting to think I should have killed you when I first had the chance,” Harry replied, irritated.
“You still can, you know,” Ron offered. “There’s no expiration on those sorts of deals.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I’d appreciate if you’d stop advocating my demise, Weasley.”
“As soon as you’re no longer breathing, I will,” Ron shrugged.
“So what’s the plan, Harry?” Ginny said, trying to ignore her brother and Draco attempt to match wits.
“You and Ron will stay here tonight. Safety in numbers,” he replied. “We can take turns staying up tonight. That way no one has the chance to sneak up on us.”
“Whatever, Potter,” Draco said, making his way to the refrigerator. “You’re the all-powerful leader afterall.”
“Malfoy, shut up,” Harry complained. “And take off my shirt while you’re at it.”
Draco grinned back at him. “Now?”
“Where the hell is *your* shirt anyway?”
“Damaged in the line of duty,” he shrugged. He grinned over at Ginny as he added, “Ask the smallest Weasley. She insisted on my disrobing.”
Ron instantly gaped at Ginny, who tried not to look mortified. “Ginny!”
“How exactly was I supposed to treat a wound on his back if he had his shirt on?” she asked defiantly, fixing her brother with a determined look.
“You *find* a way,” he replied in his own determined tone.
Ginny simply replied with a roll of her eyes, knowing that no argument whatsoever would get Ron off this particular soapbox.
“Is everyone quite done?” Hermione asked, eyeing everyone in the room. “We have more important things to settle out right now.”
“Like?” Ginny asked.
“Like who gets stuck with Malfoy on their shift tonight,” she replied, giving the blond a look as he closed the refrigerator door with an offended expression.