Fic: Hospitality - 5/? - M - Draco/Ginny
Title: Hospitality
Pairing: Draco/Ginny
Rating: R (M) - eventually
Summary: “There was no snide quip though. No deliberately cutting comment. Ginny stared and then a second later the grey eyes rolled dramatically and turned away from her towards the tasteless curtains.” Post-war fic. Ginny was just plodding along, enduring her perfectly well-ordered normal life and dreaming that maybe something more interesting might come along. She just never thought that the ‘something’ might actually turn out to be a ‘someone’.
Spoilers: HBP
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
1: Paperwork
2: The Good Life
3: Cures and Conundrums
4: Escape, with Sandwiches
PART FIVE: NIGHT OWLS
There was only one bird left in St Mungo’s private loft. Ginny glared at it irritably as it perched high above her; well out of arm’s reach. For the last ten minutes, she had been trying to coax the damn thing down but so far it had refused to even flutter a single feather. It did not help that the wizard in charge of looking after the birds had forgotten to refill the small box of treats that were kept just inside the door to make the owls more agreeable.
“If you don’t get down here in the next thirty seconds then I’ll be forced to use my wand,” she warned.
The owl hooted at her dismissively before swivelling its head to tug at a stray feather.
Ginny narrowed her eyes at it. In one hand she was tightly clutching a shrunken file that had been stuffed inside an envelope. It was the last of the pile that Hermione had left with her and Ginny was near desperate to get rid of it so that she could go home. It was now well past the supposed end of her working day; closer to midnight in fact. She had been tempted to just deposit the file in the designated tray in the administration office so that it would be posted tomorrow but that little flicker of guilt she had detected earlier in the day had flared again. Hermione had said that the files all needed to be posted that day and she could not bring herself to let her friend down even if she might have another doctor who had given her such a task.
“Listen, I don’t want to use this,” she said, drawing her wand out and raising it so that the bird could clearly see it. “But you’re really giving me no choice here. If there was another owl available then I’d ask that one but there isn’t.”
It hooted at her again then waddled forwards and took off, gliding down to settle on the perch before her.
“Thank you,” Ginny told it, with a smile. After attaching the packaged file to the bird, she ruffled its feathers slightly, affectionately. “I guess it’s needless to point out that only person you should give this to is someone official at the hospital in Genoa.”
The owl rolled its large eyes at her expressively, as if scolding her for even thinking that it needed reminding of the fact. A moment later it took off, flying up and escaping through one of the high windowless gaps in the loft.
Ginny watched it go and waited a few seconds, half afraid that the reluctant bird might change its mind and decide that a night in the loft was a better idea after all. Not that she would have been able to blame it; the weather outside was atrocious.
When she was relatively certain that the owl had indeed gone on its way, she turned and ducked through the low door that was the entrance to the loft and back into the hospital. After wiping her feet on the small mat outside the doorway, the redhead set off walking in the direction of the administration department, fully intent on collecting her coat and bag, and getting out of the building before anyone else could appear out of nowhere and come up with another job for her to do.
Ginny was sure that it was only because she had shown an iota of happiness during Hermione’s visit that the extra work Agnes claimed the redhead had neglected to do earlier in the week had appeared on her desk. After combing her mind, Ginny had decided that she could not remember anything about any extra work but ultimately there had been nothing she could do about it. Instead, the red haired witch had simply bowed her head and got stuck in; dismissing all thoughts of the wizard she had met at lunch time in the process. The quicker she completed the work, the sooner she would be able to go home.
Now that the work had all been completed, Ginny was looking forwards to heading home and maybe having a soak in the bath before heading to bed. The only downside was that the next day was still only Friday so she could not have an extra long sleep as well to make everything perfect.
Entering the stairwell at the bottom of the corridor, Ginny began her passage downwards, still consumed with thoughts of her lost evening and the relaxation it had promised. Fighting to convince herself that the weekend would more than make up for it - even if she did have to water Hermione’s plants - Ginny barely noticed the figure slumped on the stairs as she stepped onto one landing and turned to start down the next flight of steps. She let a soft gasp of surprise and stumbled backwards as she nearly accidentally kicked the prone figure.
Shock made her hesitate for a millisecond but then something clicked inside the redhead and she stepped around the figure, walking down two or three steps until she was on a level with them. There she sat down and cautiously reached towards the figure.
He - she did not doubt that they were male - was laid half on their front and half on their side, an arm flung out ahead of them on which their head rested on. The position in which they were laying meant that Ginny could not see his features. They were obscured by thick shadows and it was only as she leaned forwards and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder that she saw the telltale white-blonde hair. Certainly it was dulled by the gloom in the stairwell and it was uncharacteristically mused but there was no mistaking the person the soft mass belonged to.
“Malfoy?” She could not keep the surprise out of her voice even as she wondered how on earth he had come to be out here when he should have been asleep in bed like all the other overnight patients.
There was no response which, Ginny thought, was not really a surprise. If he had been anywhere near capable of moving then Ginny did not doubt that Malfoy would have when he had heard someone approaching. She had, however, been hoping that he might have made some kind of sound that would have let her know that he was at least alive.
Instead, she tightened the hold she had taken on his shoulder and rolled him onto his back, slightly startled at the lack of resistance he gave. As he slumped boneless against the hard steps, Ginny drew her hand back quickly. There was nothing particularly notable about his features to suggest what was wrong with him; no cuts or bruises marred the flesh she could see. The only thing that seemed amiss was that he was even paler than the last time she had seen him and there were dark smudges around his eyes - though that might just have been down to the bad lighting.
“Malfoy,” she called again.
There was still no reaction so she reached out and brushed his hair away from his face and then tentatively attempted to find his pulse. It was there, strong and steady just beneath the delicate skin of his throat.
Ginny let out a shuddering breath she had not realised she had been holding. Relief flooded through her. Whatever she might personally feel about Malfoy that did not mean she particularly fancied the idea of stumbling across him dead.
Secure in the knowledge that she was not sat next to a corpse, Ginny pulled out her wand and said, “Ennervate.”
He came awake with a jerk, sitting bolt upright and nearly knocking heads with Ginny in the process. She drew back sharply, giving him the necessary room to figure out exactly where he was as he glanced around furiously. Mixed emotions flew across his features, finally settling on what seemed to be weariness. A moment later dark grey eyes turned towards her and he once again slumped back against the stairs. This time however it appeared to be because of fatigue rather than the result of falling unconscious.
He lay there silently, sucking in deep rattling breaths that worried Ginny almost as much as finding him collapsed had done. His eyes had shut again, almost as if he did not have the energy to hold them open.
After a few moments, when he gave no sign of moving, she pushed herself up onto her knees and leaned over him in order to get a clear view of his face. Her hair fell forwards from where she had tucked it behind her ear, brushing his cheek, his nose and his lips before coming to a halt. Once more his eyes flew open; wide with shock.
“Sorry,” she said hastily, tucking the hair back where it belonged.
“Weasley?” His voice sounded broken, crackling oddly as he spoke. There was no mistaking the weakness to it.
She nodded slightly and caught her hair as it tried to break loose again. “Are you okay?”
He parted his lips and made an odd little noise as he breathed out. The subsequent silence drew on so long that Ginny started to wonder whether he was ever going to answer her. It took her several moments to realise that he seemed to be making an account of the different parts of his body; checking to see before saying anything.
A sneer gradually appeared on his features. “Do I look like I’m okay?”
Ginny very nearly let out a sigh of relief. It was oddly reassuring to discover that Malfoy was still a prat - that he was still capable of being a prat. For a moment there the vacate way in which he had looked at her and the way he had sounded when he had spoken her name had made the redhead worry more than she cared to admit. It seemed to her that there was an unspoken rule that Draco Malfoy had to be a git for the world to keep turning.
She did not sigh though. She would not let herself. Instead, she rolled her eyes at him and returned his sneer as she said, “I don’t know. You always did look a bit sickly to me anyway.”
His lip curled into a snarl but Ginny continued before he could open his mouth to make a retort.
“What the hell were you doing out here anyway? You shouldn’t be out of bed on a night time.”
“That’s none of your business,” he snapped.
“Of course it’s my business!” she exclaimed irritably. “I just nearly fell over you on the stairs.”
“Well you didn’t,” he said, shoving his elbows into the step on either side of his body and attempting to manoeuvre into a sitting position. He struggled for a moment before achieving it. “So why don’t you just run along now and get lost.”
She gritted her teeth. “You still haven’t told me what happened. Why were you unconscious on the stairs?”
“Yet another thing that is none of your business.”
“Don’t be an arse,” she told him, still fighting against her irritation. It seemed amazing that before this little meeting with the blonde, she had somehow managed to accidentally forget exactly how much he was capable of aggravating her.
“I work here,” she added swiftly, avoiding telling him exactly what it was she did at the hospital. Maybe if she was lucky then he would think she was a nurse and subsequently think he had no choice but to tell her what he had been up to. It was not lying if he jumped to the wrong conclusion.
Well, not really lying.
He peered at her speculatively from his seated position, shoulders hunched forwards. It dawned on Ginny for the first time that he seemed to have to make a conscious effort to stay sat upright. A flicker of instinctive concern went through the red haired witch and reflexively she edged slightly closer, reaching out as if to steady him.
The movement appeared to be all Malfoy needed to spur him into action. He jerked hastily away and reached up to grab the handrail in order to haul himself to his feet.
“What as? A cleaner?” he asked snidely.
“No,” she snapped and quickly stood up. “Oh stop that,” she added when he tried to push her away as she went to grab his arm just above the elbow. Touching his arm, she realised for the first time just how thin he was. She was shocked to find that it did not so much feel like she was touching muscle as bone with a thick layer of skin.
He must be cold, she thought. The stairwell in this part of the hospital was cool at the best of times and at the moment she was shivering even while dressed in a woollen jumper. The thin pyjamas he was wearing would offer no protection against the atmosphere at all. Curiously, she glanced down towards Malfoy’s feet to see they were indeed bare - just as she had half expected they would be.
Trying to keep any hint of her startled state off her face, she continued, “You look like you’re about to fall flat on your face again, and as humorous as that might end up being, it would probably loose me my job if someone found out I stood by and just let it happen.”
“What do I care about your state of employment?” he bit.
“Absolutely nothing, I guess,” Ginny responded, then continued, “Except for the fact that I would never give you a moment’s peace if you lost me my job. Now, are you going to let me help you back to bed or not?”
Malfoy looked unconvinced but relaxed a little and allowed Ginny to take some of his weight. He leaned against her side, flinching slightly as Ginny attempted to wrap an arm around his waist. She gave him a despairing look before pointing out that she no more wanted to touch him than he wanted her touching him. Malfoy’s features creased once more into a disgruntled scowl but he did not protest.
Despite how slender he had seemed, Malfoy still managed to weigh enough to make Ginny sag a little as she walked. She shifted her grip on him slightly; half wondering as she did so whether Malfoy was intentionally leaning on her more than was strictly necessary just to irk her.
They set off towards the recovery unit and the wards that lay beyond, Malfoy complaining every other second that she was jostling him. Ginny kept her mouth tightly shut, trying not to voice the scathing remarks that came to mind every time that he spoke. She was still clinging onto the hope that perhaps he might decide to explain why he had been out of bed and wandering around the hospital, at night, in nothing but his pyjamas. Snapping at him would not help her achieve that.
The few corridors they had to pass through were dark and deserted as was usual for the time of night. It was usually only the lower floors of St Mungo’s that saw any considerable action after visiting hours had finished so their passage was thankfully unnoticed. While Malfoy’s constant complaints were beginning to get more than merely irritating, Ginny was beginning to regret not admitting to begin with exactly what it was she did at the hospital. Certainly she had not been dressed up in a nurse’s uniform but she had avoided telling him she was not medical personnel and left him to draw his own conclusions. Since he had not fought her harder, Ginny was nearly certain he had come to the conclusion she had wanted him to: that she was either a nurse or a doctor.
She found herself dreading the moment when someone pointed out otherwise. From experience, she knew there was very little chance that the two of them would be able to make it all the way to Malfoy’s cubicle without someone catching them along the way. It created the possibility that whoever caught them would reveal her real work at the hospital and no doubt give Malfoy the chance to wax lyrical about deceit and betrayals of trust, not to mention the dangers of employing Weasleys. It would not matter that he was speaking complete and utter nonsense; someone would be bound to be listening and noting down everything he said.
Even if by some miracle they did manage to make it all the way to his cubicle without being seen, Ginny knew that she would have to report everything she had witnessed to the witch or wizard on duty. If Malfoy’s late night jaunt had anything to do with his illness then they would surely want to know and in truth, despite what she had read in his file, Ginny had no idea whether finding him unconscious so far from his bed could have been directly related. She supposed that fatigue might have caused him to end up dead to the world on the stairs, but could not help but wonder whether something else might have been behind it as well.
Maybe, if she was fortunate, then she would be able to inform the witch or wizard on duty in Malfoy’s ward out of the blonde’s hearing. That way she might actually end up being commended on looking after a patient.
The thought nearly made her snort out loud. There was no way on earth she would be that lucky.
“Couldn’t you at least try to walk on your own?” she ground out quietly, trying to work out an ache in her shoulder by rotating it.
Malfoy said nothing in reply, only grunted. To her relief however, he drew away from her slightly and attempted to walk under his own power. After a minute or so, he said, “I didn’t want your help anyway.”
Still, Ginny noticed he had not stepped completely away from her. They were still within touching distance - well within it actually. If Malfoy were to stumble or look as if he were about to then it would be easy for her to reach out and stabilise him.
From the corner of her eye, she watched him carefully, looking away swiftly whenever she thought he might notice her perusal. She decided that, while there was no mistaking the fact that the man walking next to her was Draco Malfoy, he still managed to look different to how she remembered him in school.
As his file had suggested he was tall, though at the moment his shoulders were still hunched forwards making his apparent height misleading. He was still whippet-thin, though the way in which he held himself suggested to Ginny that it might be a recent development. She doubted he had ever been fat, even considering his notorious sweet tooth, but rather that there had once been muscle which was now missing. Similarly, his face seemed unnaturally gaunt. While he seemed to have grown into the pointed features of his youth, they were still refined beyond what might normally be expected leaving his face divided into planes by a long, straight nose, a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. If it had been any other man, Ginny would have called him handsome.
It was not another man though, it was Malfoy, and Malfoy was an evil little sod who was bound to notice the fact that she was glancing at him every other second sooner or later.
She firmly fixed her eyes forwards, determined not to look again in his direction.
That turned out to be easier said than done. Especially when half her mind seemed determined to betray her by noticing odd little things about Malfoy - like the way his hair curled over the collar of the shirt of his pyjamas, almost as if it had not been cut in slightly too long. Or the way in which he seemed to be missing his natural fluid gait.
Ginny shook her head slightly, horrified. Thankfully, Malfoy did not notice the reaction.
They continued to walk in silence, eventually arriving at the swing doors that led to the ward that Malfoy was meant to be in. He stopped suddenly, turning to look at here.
“I can make it from here,” he said emotionlessly.
Ginny studied his face. It was difficult to tell what was actually painted there in the gloom of the corridor, even with light seeping out from the ward beyond. Somehow though, she received the impression that he was feeling not nearly as calm as he had at first sounded. That, along with the fact he seemed reluctant to enter the ward until she had gone, was enough of a reason for Ginny to decide to ignore him.
Quickly, she shook her head. “I don’t think so. Since you didn’t explain what you were doing out here in the first place then there is no way that I could trust you not to run off again. I’m not going anywhere until you’re tucked back up in bed.”
He smirked suddenly but Ginny had seen his retort coming a mile off. Before he had chance to make it, she planted a hand on the door and hissed, “Come on. Unless you want anyone else to find out that you’ve been wandering barefoot around the hospital at night that is?”
Malfoy hesitated then shook his head gently, following her through the door into the near perfect silence of the ward. Indeed, she realised, the only noises breaking the quiet was someone snoring in the distance and the heavy breathing of the man with her, which he was unsuccessfully trying to hide.
Ginny spared a glance towards him, noting for the first time that his cheeks were slightly tinged with pink and he did appear to be fighting to keep his breathing steady. Once again, she quickly tore her eyes away. It was not any of her concern. Not really - just something else to note about the blonde man.
Instead, she turned her attention towards the nurse’s station. It was mercifully devoid of life, though that only meant that the nurse on duty was off somewhere around the various wards that made up this particular unit. Ginny silently prayed that whoever it was had not already discovered Malfoy’s absenteeism.
They crept silently towards the correct ward and over to Malfoy’s cubicle. As they approached it, Ginny discovered the reason that no one had been combing the hospital looking for the blonde in the first place. It was completely surrounded by the ghastly green and yellow curtains, blocking off the cubicle entirely. No one would ever have realised that Malfoy was missing unless they had purposefully look, Ginny acknowledged.
Moving ahead of him, she tentatively pushed the curtain aside and held it back for Malfoy to pass. He glared at her briefly but eventually complied, walking into the small, makeshift room and sitting on the edge of the bed. Ginny dropped the curtain and watched as he brought a hand up to rub tiredly at his face.
She took the chance to look around his cubicle, slightly surprised at how bare it was. There were no flowers, cards, or bowls of fruit such as she had grown used to seeing around patients’ beds. Then again, she doubted that Malfoy was the sort of man who would appreciate a large ‘get well’ balloon like some received.
Turning her attention back to the man himself, she realised that he was still perched on the edge of the bed, head bowed, not even looking as if he planned to move. Taking a small step towards him, she asked, “Are you going to get in bed any time soon or not?”
Malfoy rotated his head slowly in her direction, his eyes dark. “You’re bloody persistent,” he observed.
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Just get into bed so I can go. I think that’s what we both want anyway.”
His expression softened, becoming tired once more and he nodded. After standing up briefly, Malfoy pushed the sheets back and sat once more on the bed. He shuffled backwards and lay down with an appreciative groan. Stepping forwards, Ginny pulled the sheets back over him, ignoring the incredulous look that the blonde man gave her.
“Now stay there,” she told him firmly.
Malfoy grunted but didn’t reply. His eyes were now tightly closed.
Ginny hesitated for a moment, though she did not know why. She certainly had not expected him to thank her but somehow it did not seem right to just leave.
Edging closer still, she said, “Malfoy…”
“Can’t you just go away?” he interrupted swiftly. “You said you were going to.”
“I know, but, well, don’t you think you should tell someone why you were out cold on the stairs? It might be important.”
“What do you care?” he snarled. Turning blazing eyes on her, he added, “Of course you don’t. You’re nothing but a nosey bint.”
Ginny drew her shoulders back harshly. Leaning closely, she hissed, “Do you know something? I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned you can rot in hell, Malfoy.”
Turning, the redhead stormed out of the cubicle.
6: Bookworm
Pairing: Draco/Ginny
Rating: R (M) - eventually
Summary: “There was no snide quip though. No deliberately cutting comment. Ginny stared and then a second later the grey eyes rolled dramatically and turned away from her towards the tasteless curtains.” Post-war fic. Ginny was just plodding along, enduring her perfectly well-ordered normal life and dreaming that maybe something more interesting might come along. She just never thought that the ‘something’ might actually turn out to be a ‘someone’.
Spoilers: HBP
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
1: Paperwork
2: The Good Life
3: Cures and Conundrums
4: Escape, with Sandwiches
PART FIVE: NIGHT OWLS
There was only one bird left in St Mungo’s private loft. Ginny glared at it irritably as it perched high above her; well out of arm’s reach. For the last ten minutes, she had been trying to coax the damn thing down but so far it had refused to even flutter a single feather. It did not help that the wizard in charge of looking after the birds had forgotten to refill the small box of treats that were kept just inside the door to make the owls more agreeable.
“If you don’t get down here in the next thirty seconds then I’ll be forced to use my wand,” she warned.
The owl hooted at her dismissively before swivelling its head to tug at a stray feather.
Ginny narrowed her eyes at it. In one hand she was tightly clutching a shrunken file that had been stuffed inside an envelope. It was the last of the pile that Hermione had left with her and Ginny was near desperate to get rid of it so that she could go home. It was now well past the supposed end of her working day; closer to midnight in fact. She had been tempted to just deposit the file in the designated tray in the administration office so that it would be posted tomorrow but that little flicker of guilt she had detected earlier in the day had flared again. Hermione had said that the files all needed to be posted that day and she could not bring herself to let her friend down even if she might have another doctor who had given her such a task.
“Listen, I don’t want to use this,” she said, drawing her wand out and raising it so that the bird could clearly see it. “But you’re really giving me no choice here. If there was another owl available then I’d ask that one but there isn’t.”
It hooted at her again then waddled forwards and took off, gliding down to settle on the perch before her.
“Thank you,” Ginny told it, with a smile. After attaching the packaged file to the bird, she ruffled its feathers slightly, affectionately. “I guess it’s needless to point out that only person you should give this to is someone official at the hospital in Genoa.”
The owl rolled its large eyes at her expressively, as if scolding her for even thinking that it needed reminding of the fact. A moment later it took off, flying up and escaping through one of the high windowless gaps in the loft.
Ginny watched it go and waited a few seconds, half afraid that the reluctant bird might change its mind and decide that a night in the loft was a better idea after all. Not that she would have been able to blame it; the weather outside was atrocious.
When she was relatively certain that the owl had indeed gone on its way, she turned and ducked through the low door that was the entrance to the loft and back into the hospital. After wiping her feet on the small mat outside the doorway, the redhead set off walking in the direction of the administration department, fully intent on collecting her coat and bag, and getting out of the building before anyone else could appear out of nowhere and come up with another job for her to do.
Ginny was sure that it was only because she had shown an iota of happiness during Hermione’s visit that the extra work Agnes claimed the redhead had neglected to do earlier in the week had appeared on her desk. After combing her mind, Ginny had decided that she could not remember anything about any extra work but ultimately there had been nothing she could do about it. Instead, the red haired witch had simply bowed her head and got stuck in; dismissing all thoughts of the wizard she had met at lunch time in the process. The quicker she completed the work, the sooner she would be able to go home.
Now that the work had all been completed, Ginny was looking forwards to heading home and maybe having a soak in the bath before heading to bed. The only downside was that the next day was still only Friday so she could not have an extra long sleep as well to make everything perfect.
Entering the stairwell at the bottom of the corridor, Ginny began her passage downwards, still consumed with thoughts of her lost evening and the relaxation it had promised. Fighting to convince herself that the weekend would more than make up for it - even if she did have to water Hermione’s plants - Ginny barely noticed the figure slumped on the stairs as she stepped onto one landing and turned to start down the next flight of steps. She let a soft gasp of surprise and stumbled backwards as she nearly accidentally kicked the prone figure.
Shock made her hesitate for a millisecond but then something clicked inside the redhead and she stepped around the figure, walking down two or three steps until she was on a level with them. There she sat down and cautiously reached towards the figure.
He - she did not doubt that they were male - was laid half on their front and half on their side, an arm flung out ahead of them on which their head rested on. The position in which they were laying meant that Ginny could not see his features. They were obscured by thick shadows and it was only as she leaned forwards and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder that she saw the telltale white-blonde hair. Certainly it was dulled by the gloom in the stairwell and it was uncharacteristically mused but there was no mistaking the person the soft mass belonged to.
“Malfoy?” She could not keep the surprise out of her voice even as she wondered how on earth he had come to be out here when he should have been asleep in bed like all the other overnight patients.
There was no response which, Ginny thought, was not really a surprise. If he had been anywhere near capable of moving then Ginny did not doubt that Malfoy would have when he had heard someone approaching. She had, however, been hoping that he might have made some kind of sound that would have let her know that he was at least alive.
Instead, she tightened the hold she had taken on his shoulder and rolled him onto his back, slightly startled at the lack of resistance he gave. As he slumped boneless against the hard steps, Ginny drew her hand back quickly. There was nothing particularly notable about his features to suggest what was wrong with him; no cuts or bruises marred the flesh she could see. The only thing that seemed amiss was that he was even paler than the last time she had seen him and there were dark smudges around his eyes - though that might just have been down to the bad lighting.
“Malfoy,” she called again.
There was still no reaction so she reached out and brushed his hair away from his face and then tentatively attempted to find his pulse. It was there, strong and steady just beneath the delicate skin of his throat.
Ginny let out a shuddering breath she had not realised she had been holding. Relief flooded through her. Whatever she might personally feel about Malfoy that did not mean she particularly fancied the idea of stumbling across him dead.
Secure in the knowledge that she was not sat next to a corpse, Ginny pulled out her wand and said, “Ennervate.”
He came awake with a jerk, sitting bolt upright and nearly knocking heads with Ginny in the process. She drew back sharply, giving him the necessary room to figure out exactly where he was as he glanced around furiously. Mixed emotions flew across his features, finally settling on what seemed to be weariness. A moment later dark grey eyes turned towards her and he once again slumped back against the stairs. This time however it appeared to be because of fatigue rather than the result of falling unconscious.
He lay there silently, sucking in deep rattling breaths that worried Ginny almost as much as finding him collapsed had done. His eyes had shut again, almost as if he did not have the energy to hold them open.
After a few moments, when he gave no sign of moving, she pushed herself up onto her knees and leaned over him in order to get a clear view of his face. Her hair fell forwards from where she had tucked it behind her ear, brushing his cheek, his nose and his lips before coming to a halt. Once more his eyes flew open; wide with shock.
“Sorry,” she said hastily, tucking the hair back where it belonged.
“Weasley?” His voice sounded broken, crackling oddly as he spoke. There was no mistaking the weakness to it.
She nodded slightly and caught her hair as it tried to break loose again. “Are you okay?”
He parted his lips and made an odd little noise as he breathed out. The subsequent silence drew on so long that Ginny started to wonder whether he was ever going to answer her. It took her several moments to realise that he seemed to be making an account of the different parts of his body; checking to see before saying anything.
A sneer gradually appeared on his features. “Do I look like I’m okay?”
Ginny very nearly let out a sigh of relief. It was oddly reassuring to discover that Malfoy was still a prat - that he was still capable of being a prat. For a moment there the vacate way in which he had looked at her and the way he had sounded when he had spoken her name had made the redhead worry more than she cared to admit. It seemed to her that there was an unspoken rule that Draco Malfoy had to be a git for the world to keep turning.
She did not sigh though. She would not let herself. Instead, she rolled her eyes at him and returned his sneer as she said, “I don’t know. You always did look a bit sickly to me anyway.”
His lip curled into a snarl but Ginny continued before he could open his mouth to make a retort.
“What the hell were you doing out here anyway? You shouldn’t be out of bed on a night time.”
“That’s none of your business,” he snapped.
“Of course it’s my business!” she exclaimed irritably. “I just nearly fell over you on the stairs.”
“Well you didn’t,” he said, shoving his elbows into the step on either side of his body and attempting to manoeuvre into a sitting position. He struggled for a moment before achieving it. “So why don’t you just run along now and get lost.”
She gritted her teeth. “You still haven’t told me what happened. Why were you unconscious on the stairs?”
“Yet another thing that is none of your business.”
“Don’t be an arse,” she told him, still fighting against her irritation. It seemed amazing that before this little meeting with the blonde, she had somehow managed to accidentally forget exactly how much he was capable of aggravating her.
“I work here,” she added swiftly, avoiding telling him exactly what it was she did at the hospital. Maybe if she was lucky then he would think she was a nurse and subsequently think he had no choice but to tell her what he had been up to. It was not lying if he jumped to the wrong conclusion.
Well, not really lying.
He peered at her speculatively from his seated position, shoulders hunched forwards. It dawned on Ginny for the first time that he seemed to have to make a conscious effort to stay sat upright. A flicker of instinctive concern went through the red haired witch and reflexively she edged slightly closer, reaching out as if to steady him.
The movement appeared to be all Malfoy needed to spur him into action. He jerked hastily away and reached up to grab the handrail in order to haul himself to his feet.
“What as? A cleaner?” he asked snidely.
“No,” she snapped and quickly stood up. “Oh stop that,” she added when he tried to push her away as she went to grab his arm just above the elbow. Touching his arm, she realised for the first time just how thin he was. She was shocked to find that it did not so much feel like she was touching muscle as bone with a thick layer of skin.
He must be cold, she thought. The stairwell in this part of the hospital was cool at the best of times and at the moment she was shivering even while dressed in a woollen jumper. The thin pyjamas he was wearing would offer no protection against the atmosphere at all. Curiously, she glanced down towards Malfoy’s feet to see they were indeed bare - just as she had half expected they would be.
Trying to keep any hint of her startled state off her face, she continued, “You look like you’re about to fall flat on your face again, and as humorous as that might end up being, it would probably loose me my job if someone found out I stood by and just let it happen.”
“What do I care about your state of employment?” he bit.
“Absolutely nothing, I guess,” Ginny responded, then continued, “Except for the fact that I would never give you a moment’s peace if you lost me my job. Now, are you going to let me help you back to bed or not?”
Malfoy looked unconvinced but relaxed a little and allowed Ginny to take some of his weight. He leaned against her side, flinching slightly as Ginny attempted to wrap an arm around his waist. She gave him a despairing look before pointing out that she no more wanted to touch him than he wanted her touching him. Malfoy’s features creased once more into a disgruntled scowl but he did not protest.
Despite how slender he had seemed, Malfoy still managed to weigh enough to make Ginny sag a little as she walked. She shifted her grip on him slightly; half wondering as she did so whether Malfoy was intentionally leaning on her more than was strictly necessary just to irk her.
They set off towards the recovery unit and the wards that lay beyond, Malfoy complaining every other second that she was jostling him. Ginny kept her mouth tightly shut, trying not to voice the scathing remarks that came to mind every time that he spoke. She was still clinging onto the hope that perhaps he might decide to explain why he had been out of bed and wandering around the hospital, at night, in nothing but his pyjamas. Snapping at him would not help her achieve that.
The few corridors they had to pass through were dark and deserted as was usual for the time of night. It was usually only the lower floors of St Mungo’s that saw any considerable action after visiting hours had finished so their passage was thankfully unnoticed. While Malfoy’s constant complaints were beginning to get more than merely irritating, Ginny was beginning to regret not admitting to begin with exactly what it was she did at the hospital. Certainly she had not been dressed up in a nurse’s uniform but she had avoided telling him she was not medical personnel and left him to draw his own conclusions. Since he had not fought her harder, Ginny was nearly certain he had come to the conclusion she had wanted him to: that she was either a nurse or a doctor.
She found herself dreading the moment when someone pointed out otherwise. From experience, she knew there was very little chance that the two of them would be able to make it all the way to Malfoy’s cubicle without someone catching them along the way. It created the possibility that whoever caught them would reveal her real work at the hospital and no doubt give Malfoy the chance to wax lyrical about deceit and betrayals of trust, not to mention the dangers of employing Weasleys. It would not matter that he was speaking complete and utter nonsense; someone would be bound to be listening and noting down everything he said.
Even if by some miracle they did manage to make it all the way to his cubicle without being seen, Ginny knew that she would have to report everything she had witnessed to the witch or wizard on duty. If Malfoy’s late night jaunt had anything to do with his illness then they would surely want to know and in truth, despite what she had read in his file, Ginny had no idea whether finding him unconscious so far from his bed could have been directly related. She supposed that fatigue might have caused him to end up dead to the world on the stairs, but could not help but wonder whether something else might have been behind it as well.
Maybe, if she was fortunate, then she would be able to inform the witch or wizard on duty in Malfoy’s ward out of the blonde’s hearing. That way she might actually end up being commended on looking after a patient.
The thought nearly made her snort out loud. There was no way on earth she would be that lucky.
“Couldn’t you at least try to walk on your own?” she ground out quietly, trying to work out an ache in her shoulder by rotating it.
Malfoy said nothing in reply, only grunted. To her relief however, he drew away from her slightly and attempted to walk under his own power. After a minute or so, he said, “I didn’t want your help anyway.”
Still, Ginny noticed he had not stepped completely away from her. They were still within touching distance - well within it actually. If Malfoy were to stumble or look as if he were about to then it would be easy for her to reach out and stabilise him.
From the corner of her eye, she watched him carefully, looking away swiftly whenever she thought he might notice her perusal. She decided that, while there was no mistaking the fact that the man walking next to her was Draco Malfoy, he still managed to look different to how she remembered him in school.
As his file had suggested he was tall, though at the moment his shoulders were still hunched forwards making his apparent height misleading. He was still whippet-thin, though the way in which he held himself suggested to Ginny that it might be a recent development. She doubted he had ever been fat, even considering his notorious sweet tooth, but rather that there had once been muscle which was now missing. Similarly, his face seemed unnaturally gaunt. While he seemed to have grown into the pointed features of his youth, they were still refined beyond what might normally be expected leaving his face divided into planes by a long, straight nose, a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. If it had been any other man, Ginny would have called him handsome.
It was not another man though, it was Malfoy, and Malfoy was an evil little sod who was bound to notice the fact that she was glancing at him every other second sooner or later.
She firmly fixed her eyes forwards, determined not to look again in his direction.
That turned out to be easier said than done. Especially when half her mind seemed determined to betray her by noticing odd little things about Malfoy - like the way his hair curled over the collar of the shirt of his pyjamas, almost as if it had not been cut in slightly too long. Or the way in which he seemed to be missing his natural fluid gait.
Ginny shook her head slightly, horrified. Thankfully, Malfoy did not notice the reaction.
They continued to walk in silence, eventually arriving at the swing doors that led to the ward that Malfoy was meant to be in. He stopped suddenly, turning to look at here.
“I can make it from here,” he said emotionlessly.
Ginny studied his face. It was difficult to tell what was actually painted there in the gloom of the corridor, even with light seeping out from the ward beyond. Somehow though, she received the impression that he was feeling not nearly as calm as he had at first sounded. That, along with the fact he seemed reluctant to enter the ward until she had gone, was enough of a reason for Ginny to decide to ignore him.
Quickly, she shook her head. “I don’t think so. Since you didn’t explain what you were doing out here in the first place then there is no way that I could trust you not to run off again. I’m not going anywhere until you’re tucked back up in bed.”
He smirked suddenly but Ginny had seen his retort coming a mile off. Before he had chance to make it, she planted a hand on the door and hissed, “Come on. Unless you want anyone else to find out that you’ve been wandering barefoot around the hospital at night that is?”
Malfoy hesitated then shook his head gently, following her through the door into the near perfect silence of the ward. Indeed, she realised, the only noises breaking the quiet was someone snoring in the distance and the heavy breathing of the man with her, which he was unsuccessfully trying to hide.
Ginny spared a glance towards him, noting for the first time that his cheeks were slightly tinged with pink and he did appear to be fighting to keep his breathing steady. Once again, she quickly tore her eyes away. It was not any of her concern. Not really - just something else to note about the blonde man.
Instead, she turned her attention towards the nurse’s station. It was mercifully devoid of life, though that only meant that the nurse on duty was off somewhere around the various wards that made up this particular unit. Ginny silently prayed that whoever it was had not already discovered Malfoy’s absenteeism.
They crept silently towards the correct ward and over to Malfoy’s cubicle. As they approached it, Ginny discovered the reason that no one had been combing the hospital looking for the blonde in the first place. It was completely surrounded by the ghastly green and yellow curtains, blocking off the cubicle entirely. No one would ever have realised that Malfoy was missing unless they had purposefully look, Ginny acknowledged.
Moving ahead of him, she tentatively pushed the curtain aside and held it back for Malfoy to pass. He glared at her briefly but eventually complied, walking into the small, makeshift room and sitting on the edge of the bed. Ginny dropped the curtain and watched as he brought a hand up to rub tiredly at his face.
She took the chance to look around his cubicle, slightly surprised at how bare it was. There were no flowers, cards, or bowls of fruit such as she had grown used to seeing around patients’ beds. Then again, she doubted that Malfoy was the sort of man who would appreciate a large ‘get well’ balloon like some received.
Turning her attention back to the man himself, she realised that he was still perched on the edge of the bed, head bowed, not even looking as if he planned to move. Taking a small step towards him, she asked, “Are you going to get in bed any time soon or not?”
Malfoy rotated his head slowly in her direction, his eyes dark. “You’re bloody persistent,” he observed.
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Just get into bed so I can go. I think that’s what we both want anyway.”
His expression softened, becoming tired once more and he nodded. After standing up briefly, Malfoy pushed the sheets back and sat once more on the bed. He shuffled backwards and lay down with an appreciative groan. Stepping forwards, Ginny pulled the sheets back over him, ignoring the incredulous look that the blonde man gave her.
“Now stay there,” she told him firmly.
Malfoy grunted but didn’t reply. His eyes were now tightly closed.
Ginny hesitated for a moment, though she did not know why. She certainly had not expected him to thank her but somehow it did not seem right to just leave.
Edging closer still, she said, “Malfoy…”
“Can’t you just go away?” he interrupted swiftly. “You said you were going to.”
“I know, but, well, don’t you think you should tell someone why you were out cold on the stairs? It might be important.”
“What do you care?” he snarled. Turning blazing eyes on her, he added, “Of course you don’t. You’re nothing but a nosey bint.”
Ginny drew her shoulders back harshly. Leaning closely, she hissed, “Do you know something? I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned you can rot in hell, Malfoy.”
Turning, the redhead stormed out of the cubicle.
6: Bookworm