Disclaimer: Please allow me to state very clearly that the characters, places, canon events, and any other recognizable feature are not mine. They belong to J. K. Rowling and are not being used for profit or personal gain.
His blood was red. She had half expected it would be black, reflecting his choices in life, or perhaps Slytherin green or that elusive blue blood people spoke of (or was that a muggle belief? She wasn't certain). It should be different somehow, but it was red just like hers, just like her brother's, just like everyone else who was hurt or dying. She should leave him here, let him die alone. He was the enemy. He had killed people she loved.
She should leave him here and let him die and never think on it again. He groaned in pain and she couldn't help staring at the way the blood stained his platinum hair to a shade truer red than her own. Ginny sighed, knowing already what she had to do.
Because his blood was red . . .
In the end, she called up the last of the strength in her small frame and dragged him to safety, because his blood was red and she had seen more of that than anyone should in a thousand lifetimes. Later, she would wonder how she managed to move him so far without being noticed or collapsing from exhaustion or killing him by accident. Then, though, there was no time for thought, only action, and she moved him as gently as she could, half-carrying/half-dragging his much larger frame across charred ground through the rubble that was once the grand entrance hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She thought longingly of the hospital wing, but that was long gone, demolished in the first surprise attack along with the astronomy tower and large portions of the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor dormitories. The only areas relatively untouched were the walls and floor of the Great Hall (the roof was gone with the second attack) and the dungeons save, ironically, the corridor to the Slytherin common room. That corridor and, presumably, the common room as well were yet another pile of dust and rubble.
She made the way to Snape's private rooms, just off his office and classroom. The wards on the entrance were long since gone, this being one of the few secure places left in the castle. Depositing her charge on Snape's unmade bed, she took his wand and disappeared into the potions storeroom.
Upon her return, arms laden with jars and vials, she was surprised to see his eyes open. Liquid mercury gaze locked on her, he sneered and hissed. "Weasley."
"Malfoy," Ginny returned coolly, chin tilted at a defiant angle.
"Is this what the old fool has resorted to? Muggle-loving children for prison guards?"
"Professor Dumbledore is not a fool." She surprised herself when she was able to meet the cold glare of Lucius Malfoy, matching it with one of her own. She could see the strain of his effort to hide his pain. It was wearing down the last bit of his strength. Choosing to ignore the chills being in the same room with this man caused, Ginny crossed over, placing the various jars and vials on the bedside table. She was careful to keep his wand well out of reach. He gazed at the assorted potions and salves and closed his eyes.
"Let me die."
He opened his eyes again when she refused a response. He found her busily mixing the contents of two vials, sleeves rolled up and determination showing in the set of her jaw.
"Do you hear me girl? Your precious boy hero has won. You have no need to keep me prisoner. Let me die in peace."
"I've sent an owl to your wife," Ginny said, ignoring his demands (because a Malfoy did not plead). "I was going to reset the wards around the door until she comes for you, but my wand was destroyed and I won't use yours." She poured the rather vile concoction in his mouth, forcing him to either swallow it or strangle and sputter indignantly. He chose to swallow the potion, recognizing the taste and rather warm feel of it as some sort of anaesthetic. The girl certainly knew what she was doing, though he wasn't certain he wanted a Weasley saving him. "Now, even with the potion, this will probably hurt," she said before pouring another mixture over the worst of his wounds. He ground his teeth against the bubbling, burning pain. When he was able to look again, she was prodding gently at his abdomen and muttering to herself about needles and stitches and sticks for biting. He certainly didn't like the sound of that. It was positively barbaric.
"Let me die," he said again.
"No."
No. And rather stubbornly said, too. She had a fire in her, rather like his Narcissa. It was a somewhat unpleasant surprise. Now he was interested. Blast it all, a Malfoy should not be interested in anything to do with a Weasley. But Lucius couldn't help himself. "Why?" He grimaced at the realization that he was, in fact, having a conversation with a Weasley, and the bloody girl Weasley at that. Perhaps it was a side effect of the potion she had practically forced down his throat.
"Because I'm tired of watching people die and not doing anything about it," she said, her attention on threading the ominously large needle in her hand.
"Bloody saints, the lot of you."
"I'm not a saint, Mr. Malfoy. I'm just tired of all this. Now, this really is going to hurt. Would you like me to knock you out? I'm certain I could find something suitably heavy to bash you over the head with." For the first time in a very long while, Lucius Malfoy actually gaped in shock. Was this little muggle-loving weasel making a joke? At his expense? It was unheard of. It was inconceivable. It was actually rather endearing. Oh, dear Merlin, what had she given him? A Weasley was never endearing. Not to a Malfoy. Nothing was endearing to a Malfoy.
Of course, he reasoned, her mother was a very distant cousin of his father's (poor relations, they weren't often acknowledged). Perhaps that was it. Yes. She wasn't truly a Weasley. She was a very distant Malfoy relation. Oh, she was speaking again.
"Did you hear me, Mr. Malfoy? I said I am going to have to stitch you up now, or else you'll likely bleed to death all over Professor Snape's sheets. That would be terribly tragic, as then he wouldn't be able to kill you for it."
"Oh, just do get on with it."
"If you insist." Through the haze of pain, he managed to watch her face as she worked, closing up the gashes across his stomach. When she reached the rather nasty one on his upper thigh, he blacked out.
Ginny was almost finished resetting the bones in Mr. Malfoy's arms and left leg when someone threw open the door. She didn't bother to see who had come in. "If you've come to kill me, get on with it, but I hope you're talented with healing charms-he can be rather unpleasant and demanding. If you're here for him you'll just have to wait until I'm finished." The person didn't speak or make any move to stop her or come closer. Ginny brushed a rather stubborn lock of hair out of her face and tightened the last bandage before standing and stretching. Wiping her hands on a relatively clean and blood-free towel, she turned around and at last looked upon her silent company.
"Will he live?" Narcissa Malfoy was quite pretty, and she didn't seem at all snobbish at the moment, just very tired and, just perhaps, worried.
"Yes ma'am, I think so, as long as no infections set in and he doesn't get hit with any Unforgiveables any time soon." Ginny didn't move away as Mrs. Malfoy came closer, surveying her work.
"What is all this?" she asked, genuinely confused and curious about the bandages and sutures.
"Muggle medicine. My wand was broken in the battle." Mrs. Malfoy didn't ask about her husband's wand, only how Ginny had learned about 'this primitive muggle healing'. "Well, my Dad's always been a bit fascinated by muggles, and Mum finally decided it was a good skill to know after . . ." Ginny didn't finish. It still hurt too much to even think about what had happened to convince Molly Weasley her children needed to be armed and prepared for every possibility of this war.
"You do realize you saved his life?" Mrs. Malfoy wasn't looking at Ginny. Her gaze, unreadable, stayed on her husband's pale face.
"Yes."
"Why?"
She did look at Ginny then, and her ice blue eyes seemed to hold the younger woman's gaze as Ginny breathed her answer. "Because I could." Something passed between them then, unspoken and brief but strong al the same. Mrs. Malfoy nodded once, sharply.
"I half expected as much."
Whatever she had been about to say after that was lost when Snape came barreling into the room. His chest heaved as he took in the scene and pointed his wand at Mrs. Malfoy. "Move away from the girl, Narcissa." Ginny watched as she moved back a few steps and settled herself regally on the edge of the bed, absently stroking Mr. Malfoy's hand. "Miss Weasley, are you well? Has she harmed or threatened you in any way?"
"No, sir."
"Very well." He turned back to face Mrs. Malfoy fully, effectively ignoring Ginny now that he knew she was unharmed. "Why are you here? I thought you preferred not to soil your hands."
Mrs. Malfoy didn't answer, only looked down at her husband and sighed. She loves him, Ginny thought before answering Professor Snape's question herself. "Mrs. Malfoy has come because I sent her an owl telling her where she could find her husband."
Snape rounded on her, glaring now as if she were Harry. She had never had the full strength of that particular gaze focused on her before and she desperately hoped she never would again. "You. Did. What?"
Ginny swallowed hard and took a deep breath. She was the youngest Weasley. She had six older brothers and an overprotective mother. Her chin went up a notch. "I said, I sent her an owl." So her lips had trembled just a bit and perhaps the words had a bit of a quiver, but, really, she was rather proud of her response.
"Tell me, Miss Weasley, just why you thought that was the proper thing to do?"
Ginny's eyes narrowed. She had completed her studies two weeks ago. She wasn't his student anymore and she wasn't a child. "Well, Severus," she hissed, putting extra emphasis on his given name. She opened her mouth to continue when Draco Malfoy strolled into the room, breezed past his former head of house, and stood in front of his mother, wand drawn.
"Oh, Draco darling, finally you've come."
"I only just received your message, mother," he said, never taking his eyes off Snape. The young man was immaculately dressed with not even a scuff on his boots. Ginny realized with a start then that neither he nor his mother had been anywhere near the battlefield. She watched as he pulled an object wrapped in brown paper from within the folds of his robes and handed it to his mother behind him. Mrs. Malfoy unwrapped whatever the thing was and scooted closer to her husband. She was speaking again before Ginny managed to process the thoughts running rampant about her head. Portkey. Mrs. Malfoy had a portkey.
"STOP!" Snape roared as Mrs. Malfoy drew her wand and touched it lightly to the object.
It was more than obvious that Narcissa Malfoy was well aware of Severus Snape's dueling prowess. She froze and peeked around her son. Ginny realized then that while Draco was shielding his mother, she had positioned herself in front of her husband. "Please Severus," she said softly. "I know to pair of you have grown apart, but Lucius loved you as a brother once. If I don't take him home he will die." There was real emotion in her voice. "He saved your life once. You owe him this much." She sounded on the verge of tears.
Ginny watched in shock as her former professor backed down and nodded, just slightly. "Very well. Consider the debt paid in full."
"Thank you, Severus," Mrs. Malfoy whispered. Ginny jumped and shrieked in surprise as Snape fell to the floor, hit with a stunning spell from Draco while his attention had been on Narcissa.
"I am sorry Severus, truly," she said, "But you of all people should know that I will do whatever is required to protect what is mine." She paused and looked at Ginny thoughtfully before adding, "Draco, bring the girl," as she activated the portkey and she and her husband disappeared.
Draco started forward, reaching for her, but Ginny managed to side step him. He was between her and the door but not between her and the drawer where she had hidden his father's wand. Ginny dashed over, jerking the drawer open and grabbing the slender length of wood. She screamed as his hand closed over her elbow and tried to jerk away but she was no match for him, physically. Finally, he grabbed her wrists and glared at her. "Damn it, Weasley, stop that before you hurt yourself," he muttered, using his tie to bind her hands. Ginny froze as he stepped behind her and closed his arms around her body. She felt the cold bite of metal as he pressed something against her hand and activated a second portkey.
"I was just tired of watching people die," she whispered as Draco Malfoy tightened his hold on her, pressing her back against his body. A tear slipped down her cheek as she felt the familiar sickening, jerking sensation just behind her navel.
His blood was red. She had half expected it would be black, reflecting his choices in life, or perhaps Slytherin green or that elusive blue blood people spoke of (or was that a muggle belief? She wasn't certain). It should be different somehow, but it was red just like hers, just like her brother's, just like everyone else who was hurt or dying. She should leave him here, let him die alone. He was the enemy. He had killed people she loved.
She should leave him here and let him die and never think on it again. He groaned in pain and she couldn't help staring at the way the blood stained his platinum hair to a shade truer red than her own. Ginny sighed, knowing already what she had to do.
Because his blood was red . . .
In the end, she called up the last of the strength in her small frame and dragged him to safety, because his blood was red and she had seen more of that than anyone should in a thousand lifetimes. Later, she would wonder how she managed to move him so far without being noticed or collapsing from exhaustion or killing him by accident. Then, though, there was no time for thought, only action, and she moved him as gently as she could, half-carrying/half-dragging his much larger frame across charred ground through the rubble that was once the grand entrance hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She thought longingly of the hospital wing, but that was long gone, demolished in the first surprise attack along with the astronomy tower and large portions of the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor dormitories. The only areas relatively untouched were the walls and floor of the Great Hall (the roof was gone with the second attack) and the dungeons save, ironically, the corridor to the Slytherin common room. That corridor and, presumably, the common room as well were yet another pile of dust and rubble.
She made the way to Snape's private rooms, just off his office and classroom. The wards on the entrance were long since gone, this being one of the few secure places left in the castle. Depositing her charge on Snape's unmade bed, she took his wand and disappeared into the potions storeroom.
Upon her return, arms laden with jars and vials, she was surprised to see his eyes open. Liquid mercury gaze locked on her, he sneered and hissed. "Weasley."
"Malfoy," Ginny returned coolly, chin tilted at a defiant angle.
"Is this what the old fool has resorted to? Muggle-loving children for prison guards?"
"Professor Dumbledore is not a fool." She surprised herself when she was able to meet the cold glare of Lucius Malfoy, matching it with one of her own. She could see the strain of his effort to hide his pain. It was wearing down the last bit of his strength. Choosing to ignore the chills being in the same room with this man caused, Ginny crossed over, placing the various jars and vials on the bedside table. She was careful to keep his wand well out of reach. He gazed at the assorted potions and salves and closed his eyes.
"Let me die."
He opened his eyes again when she refused a response. He found her busily mixing the contents of two vials, sleeves rolled up and determination showing in the set of her jaw.
"Do you hear me girl? Your precious boy hero has won. You have no need to keep me prisoner. Let me die in peace."
"I've sent an owl to your wife," Ginny said, ignoring his demands (because a Malfoy did not plead). "I was going to reset the wards around the door until she comes for you, but my wand was destroyed and I won't use yours." She poured the rather vile concoction in his mouth, forcing him to either swallow it or strangle and sputter indignantly. He chose to swallow the potion, recognizing the taste and rather warm feel of it as some sort of anaesthetic. The girl certainly knew what she was doing, though he wasn't certain he wanted a Weasley saving him. "Now, even with the potion, this will probably hurt," she said before pouring another mixture over the worst of his wounds. He ground his teeth against the bubbling, burning pain. When he was able to look again, she was prodding gently at his abdomen and muttering to herself about needles and stitches and sticks for biting. He certainly didn't like the sound of that. It was positively barbaric.
"Let me die," he said again.
"No."
No. And rather stubbornly said, too. She had a fire in her, rather like his Narcissa. It was a somewhat unpleasant surprise. Now he was interested. Blast it all, a Malfoy should not be interested in anything to do with a Weasley. But Lucius couldn't help himself. "Why?" He grimaced at the realization that he was, in fact, having a conversation with a Weasley, and the bloody girl Weasley at that. Perhaps it was a side effect of the potion she had practically forced down his throat.
"Because I'm tired of watching people die and not doing anything about it," she said, her attention on threading the ominously large needle in her hand.
"Bloody saints, the lot of you."
"I'm not a saint, Mr. Malfoy. I'm just tired of all this. Now, this really is going to hurt. Would you like me to knock you out? I'm certain I could find something suitably heavy to bash you over the head with." For the first time in a very long while, Lucius Malfoy actually gaped in shock. Was this little muggle-loving weasel making a joke? At his expense? It was unheard of. It was inconceivable. It was actually rather endearing. Oh, dear Merlin, what had she given him? A Weasley was never endearing. Not to a Malfoy. Nothing was endearing to a Malfoy.
Of course, he reasoned, her mother was a very distant cousin of his father's (poor relations, they weren't often acknowledged). Perhaps that was it. Yes. She wasn't truly a Weasley. She was a very distant Malfoy relation. Oh, she was speaking again.
"Did you hear me, Mr. Malfoy? I said I am going to have to stitch you up now, or else you'll likely bleed to death all over Professor Snape's sheets. That would be terribly tragic, as then he wouldn't be able to kill you for it."
"Oh, just do get on with it."
"If you insist." Through the haze of pain, he managed to watch her face as she worked, closing up the gashes across his stomach. When she reached the rather nasty one on his upper thigh, he blacked out.
Ginny was almost finished resetting the bones in Mr. Malfoy's arms and left leg when someone threw open the door. She didn't bother to see who had come in. "If you've come to kill me, get on with it, but I hope you're talented with healing charms-he can be rather unpleasant and demanding. If you're here for him you'll just have to wait until I'm finished." The person didn't speak or make any move to stop her or come closer. Ginny brushed a rather stubborn lock of hair out of her face and tightened the last bandage before standing and stretching. Wiping her hands on a relatively clean and blood-free towel, she turned around and at last looked upon her silent company.
"Will he live?" Narcissa Malfoy was quite pretty, and she didn't seem at all snobbish at the moment, just very tired and, just perhaps, worried.
"Yes ma'am, I think so, as long as no infections set in and he doesn't get hit with any Unforgiveables any time soon." Ginny didn't move away as Mrs. Malfoy came closer, surveying her work.
"What is all this?" she asked, genuinely confused and curious about the bandages and sutures.
"Muggle medicine. My wand was broken in the battle." Mrs. Malfoy didn't ask about her husband's wand, only how Ginny had learned about 'this primitive muggle healing'. "Well, my Dad's always been a bit fascinated by muggles, and Mum finally decided it was a good skill to know after . . ." Ginny didn't finish. It still hurt too much to even think about what had happened to convince Molly Weasley her children needed to be armed and prepared for every possibility of this war.
"You do realize you saved his life?" Mrs. Malfoy wasn't looking at Ginny. Her gaze, unreadable, stayed on her husband's pale face.
"Yes."
"Why?"
She did look at Ginny then, and her ice blue eyes seemed to hold the younger woman's gaze as Ginny breathed her answer. "Because I could." Something passed between them then, unspoken and brief but strong al the same. Mrs. Malfoy nodded once, sharply.
"I half expected as much."
Whatever she had been about to say after that was lost when Snape came barreling into the room. His chest heaved as he took in the scene and pointed his wand at Mrs. Malfoy. "Move away from the girl, Narcissa." Ginny watched as she moved back a few steps and settled herself regally on the edge of the bed, absently stroking Mr. Malfoy's hand. "Miss Weasley, are you well? Has she harmed or threatened you in any way?"
"No, sir."
"Very well." He turned back to face Mrs. Malfoy fully, effectively ignoring Ginny now that he knew she was unharmed. "Why are you here? I thought you preferred not to soil your hands."
Mrs. Malfoy didn't answer, only looked down at her husband and sighed. She loves him, Ginny thought before answering Professor Snape's question herself. "Mrs. Malfoy has come because I sent her an owl telling her where she could find her husband."
Snape rounded on her, glaring now as if she were Harry. She had never had the full strength of that particular gaze focused on her before and she desperately hoped she never would again. "You. Did. What?"
Ginny swallowed hard and took a deep breath. She was the youngest Weasley. She had six older brothers and an overprotective mother. Her chin went up a notch. "I said, I sent her an owl." So her lips had trembled just a bit and perhaps the words had a bit of a quiver, but, really, she was rather proud of her response.
"Tell me, Miss Weasley, just why you thought that was the proper thing to do?"
Ginny's eyes narrowed. She had completed her studies two weeks ago. She wasn't his student anymore and she wasn't a child. "Well, Severus," she hissed, putting extra emphasis on his given name. She opened her mouth to continue when Draco Malfoy strolled into the room, breezed past his former head of house, and stood in front of his mother, wand drawn.
"Oh, Draco darling, finally you've come."
"I only just received your message, mother," he said, never taking his eyes off Snape. The young man was immaculately dressed with not even a scuff on his boots. Ginny realized with a start then that neither he nor his mother had been anywhere near the battlefield. She watched as he pulled an object wrapped in brown paper from within the folds of his robes and handed it to his mother behind him. Mrs. Malfoy unwrapped whatever the thing was and scooted closer to her husband. She was speaking again before Ginny managed to process the thoughts running rampant about her head. Portkey. Mrs. Malfoy had a portkey.
"STOP!" Snape roared as Mrs. Malfoy drew her wand and touched it lightly to the object.
It was more than obvious that Narcissa Malfoy was well aware of Severus Snape's dueling prowess. She froze and peeked around her son. Ginny realized then that while Draco was shielding his mother, she had positioned herself in front of her husband. "Please Severus," she said softly. "I know to pair of you have grown apart, but Lucius loved you as a brother once. If I don't take him home he will die." There was real emotion in her voice. "He saved your life once. You owe him this much." She sounded on the verge of tears.
Ginny watched in shock as her former professor backed down and nodded, just slightly. "Very well. Consider the debt paid in full."
"Thank you, Severus," Mrs. Malfoy whispered. Ginny jumped and shrieked in surprise as Snape fell to the floor, hit with a stunning spell from Draco while his attention had been on Narcissa.
"I am sorry Severus, truly," she said, "But you of all people should know that I will do whatever is required to protect what is mine." She paused and looked at Ginny thoughtfully before adding, "Draco, bring the girl," as she activated the portkey and she and her husband disappeared.
Draco started forward, reaching for her, but Ginny managed to side step him. He was between her and the door but not between her and the drawer where she had hidden his father's wand. Ginny dashed over, jerking the drawer open and grabbing the slender length of wood. She screamed as his hand closed over her elbow and tried to jerk away but she was no match for him, physically. Finally, he grabbed her wrists and glared at her. "Damn it, Weasley, stop that before you hurt yourself," he muttered, using his tie to bind her hands. Ginny froze as he stepped behind her and closed his arms around her body. She felt the cold bite of metal as he pressed something against her hand and activated a second portkey.
"I was just tired of watching people die," she whispered as Draco Malfoy tightened his hold on her, pressing her back against his body. A tear slipped down her cheek as she felt the familiar sickening, jerking sensation just behind her navel.
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