“Hello, God, it’s me again,” Ginny Weasley Malfoy whispered into the darkness. It was two o’ clock in the morning, and the now twenty-eight-year-old woman was sitting in a place she had become all too accustomed to: a hard, straight-backed chair in room 304 of St. Mungo’s Children’s Ward. Visiting hours had ended long ago. It was then that she had sent a haggard looking Draco home with his mother. She knew he hadn’t slept well in weeks. Not that she had either. The pair of them had been spending night after painful night watching over their beautiful little girl, Katharina Elizabeth Malfoy.


The small, angelic looking girl, with her father’s silky blonde hair and her mother’s shimmering chocolate eyes, was now withering painfully on her mattress. Ginny found it hard to hold back her tears as she helplessly watched her daughter suffer. For the past week the healers had been telling the Malfoys that little Kat might not live to see the sunrise.


They didn’t know what was wrong with her. Sure, they had their theories, but only one thing remained constant in all of the diagnoses, they didn’t know how to make it better. The most common answer had been cancer, a brain tumor. Ginny and Draco had spared no expense, taking their seven year old beauty to healer after healer, but it was all for nothing. The best healers money could buy had no idea how to fix the little girl.


When that failed, Ginny had followed Hermione’s advice and taken Kat to see a number of Muggle children’s specialists. Even Draco was willing to interact with the Muggle doctors for the smallest chance that they might be able to cure his baby girl. But it was all in vain. No one could tell them how to take away their daughter’s pain. One year later, they were no closer to finding the answers they so desperately wanted.


Ginny let out a quiet sob as she heard her daughter moan in pain. She wanted more than anything to take that pain from her daughter. She would have gladly traded places.


“Please, God,” Ginny whispered, her eyes to the night sky barely visible from the tiny window. “Please, can’t you see I need her?” she pleaded.


Kat was their princess, their perfect little girl they never thought they were going to be able to have. And now God was trying to take their angel back.


Ginny reached out a hand to smooth back her daughter’s hair. The little girl had just turned seven last month, but Ginny remembered it like it was yesterday.


They had brought her home from the hospital, and both Ginny's and Draco’s families had been there. It was the second time in history that both the Malfoys and the Weasleys had been able to put aside all of their differences and celebrate. The first had been when Kat was first born.


“Mummy, Mummy!” Kat had cried staring at the huge pile of presents everyone had brought for her. Everyone was trying to act cheerful, trying to act as if this wouldn’t be the little girl’s last birthday. After all, the doctors had originally told them she wouldn’t live to see age five, but Kat was a fighter, she always had been.


Ginny sobbed as she remembered the way Kat’s eyes had lit up when she saw the cake, and then cried harder as she remembered what Kat’s two birthday wishes had been. While everyone else was wishing that Kat would still be alive to celebrate with them next year, she was busy thinking far ahead.



“What did you wish for, Precious?” Draco had asked when they had tucked her into bed that night.

Kat had laughed at her parents, giggling as she snuggled under the covers. “Da! If I tell you, then my wishes won’t come true!” she had said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but of course to a seven-year-old, it was.

Ginny had laughed and kissed her daughter’s cheek.  “Yes Kat, but your Da has a special way of making dreams come true, so why not tell us and we’ll see what we can do.” Both Ginny and Draco would have done anything in their power to make any of her wishes come true.


Kat had looked thoughtfully at her parents, trying to decide if breaking the wishing rule was worth it.  “Well,” she started with her own special grin, “I want to ride my own broom, all by my self, just like you, Mummy!”

Kat hadn’t been able to ride on her own yet, the healers had said she wasn’t strong enough, but at that point neither Ginny or Draco cared, in the morning, they’d take her to buy her own broom, and then they’d take her flying, using dozens of protection charms, of course. But Kat wasn’t done with her wishes.


“And,” she said starting to giggle again, “when I grow up I want to marry a wizard just like Da!”

It had been Draco’s turn to tear up then, easing himself down on to his daughter’s bed. “No wizard will ever be good enough for you, Angel,” he had whispered, pressing one last kiss to her forehead before he and Ginny both left for the night.



Back in the hospital room, Ginny shook with grief. They hadn’t been able to take her to buy a broom in the morning. she hadn’t woken up that morning, had just stayed sleeping fitfully. They had brought her back to the hospital where the healers had told them the little girl had had too much excitement the day before and her body was worn out, but that she’d probably get better in a day or two, that she would be able to go home for a while again.


Kat hadn’t gotten better, she hadn’t gotten to go back home for any length of time. She had stayed.


“Please, God,” Ginny whispered again through her tears, “Please, don’t take my baby girl.” But she knew it was already too late. In her heart she knew that this would be the morning her daughter didn’t get to see.


So it was, with a great hole tearing at her heart, that Ginny crawled from her straight-backed chair and onto her daughter’s bed. Carefully pulling the delicate girl into her lap, Ginny changed her prayer.


“Please God, look after my Angel in Heaven.”


They stayed like that until the sunrise, Ginny slowly rocking her daughter as she cried and cried. By the time the healer came in to check on Katharina Elizabeth Malfoy, the little girl was already gone.


Three day later, dressed all in black with her husband at her side, Ginny came to a conclusion. They should not have to make small coffins, as little girls should never have to lay in them.