"Hullo, Malfoy."
He turns at the sound of his name, already knowing what he will find. Sure enough, a petite redhead stands before him, a deep gash in her forehead oozing blood.
"Weasley." Draco shakes his head at her. "Managed to injure yourself yet again, I see?"
Her grin is wide enough to crack some of the dried blood off her cheek.
"You know as well as I do that I do it on purpose so I can visit you more often."
"Right. So what have you done this time?"
"I swear, staircases just don't like me!"
"Weasley, you didn't..."
"Yes Malfoy, I did. I fell up the stairs again."
"Merlin, Red, that's the second time this month."
"I'm telling you, the world is out to get me!"
"And I'm telling you, I've never met anyone clumsier than you."
As Draco wipes gently at her bloodstained face with a wet handkerchief, he notices a faint tiny scar on her left temple...
~*~
Draco hated the Leaky Cauldron. It was dim and musty and smelled suspiciously of cat. And Draco hated cats too. He ducked beneath a low beam and headed towards the back of the noisy pub to enter Diagon Alley. His hand was on the door handle when he heard a loud crash.
A crowd of drunken patrons had gathered not ten feet from where Draco was standing, and they were all yelling and gasping. Draco rolled his eyes and moved towards the group, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Ginny Weasley was lying on the filthy ground, her unmistakable red hair drenched in what was undoubtedly blood. The low beam that Draco had ducked earlier was directly above the unconscious girl, a rust-covered nail protruding from the ancient wood. The heavily intoxicated crowd around her did nothing but gape at her unmoving form.
Draco swore to himself and pushed his way through the circle. He scooped the young woman up into his arms and moved quickly to the fireplace. Frowning angrily at Tom the barkeep, he growled,
"Fix up this goddamn hovel and you won't have to worry about being charged with murder by the Wizengamot, you dumb oaf."
Shifting Ginny's weight in his arms, he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, shouting angrily for St. Mungo's before disappearing in a burst of emerald flames.
The Healers took one look at the woman Draco was holding and immediately whisked her away. Draco sat in an uncomfortable chair in the front foyer, irritably trying to wipe Ginny's blood off his robes and glaring viciously at anyone who dared to look at him.
An hour later, his back was hurting. The chairs in St. Mungo's were far below the standard of seating arrangements he was used to. He shifted his weight in the hard wooden chair, sighing and wondering what he was still doing there. He could have easily left the Weasley girl as soon as he got her here. He could have easily left her on the floor of the pub, too. One of those imbeciles would have gotten her to St. Mungo's eventually...
"Hullo, Malfoy," came a sheepish voice. He turned to see Weasley, a bit worse for the wear. It appeared as though her injury was gone, but there was still some dried blood around her hairline.
"Weasley," he replied with a curt nod.
"Thank you for bringing me here," she said, avoiding his eye. "And for staying to make sure I was okay and all..."
"I wasn't making sure you—" Draco realized that he must have been, or else why would he still be in this damned hospital? "Erm, you're welcome."
"Healer Bones says I'm fine. It was just a nasty cut from that nail and a sizeable bump where I hit my head on the beam. Should clear up just fine. Might leave a bit of a scar though. You probably didn't even need to take me to the hospital, Malfoy."
Draco shrugged.
"But, erm, thank you. Again."
"Yeah, whatever," he said. "Just look where you're going next time."
Ginny blushed.
Draco turned to leave, glancing back at Ginny to see her rubbing some of the blood off her left temple.
~*~
Draco takes his time cleaning her cut. He watches intently as the rust-colored blood disappears, leaving only the ruddy tone of her skin. He dips the cloth in warm water again, and rubs gently at her forehead until the wound is clean, and she looks like Ginny again.
As he moves to place the cloth back into the bowl, some water drips onto her white blouse.
"Oops," he says lightly, glancing at the wet spot near her shoulder.
"Don't worry about it," she replies, lifting her hand to rub at the spot. For a moment, Draco can see the faint white scars on the back of her forearm.
~*~
The owner of the Harpies had by now taken to keeping a private Healer at every one of her training sessions, as well as the matches. Ginny was the best Chaser they had, known worldwide for her risky maneuvers and dangerous tricks on her broom. But she had never once injured herself doing those, oh no. Ginny was infamous for falling from a still hover, only a few metres off the ground. She was safe and sound one hundred feet in the air doing backflips and dodging bludgers, but ask her to do something basic and accidents tended to happen.
Draco was hypnotized whenever he watched her on a broomstick. He never got tired of seeing her fly. She was fearless in the air, and it took a skilled spectator to keep track of her speedy form. He had become that skilled spectator. He'd seen her play several times from his seat in the VIP box, including this match, during which she was playing the team he happened to own, the Falmouth Falcons.
He leaned back in his seat, watching the green-robed Harpies weave in and out in an airborne dance with his grey-garbed Falcons.
"Think your team can actually beat mine today, Malfoy?" laughed the voice of Gwenog Jones from behind him. The owner of the Harpies limped over to seat herself next to him.
"My team could take yours blindfolded, Jones," drawled Draco.
"I beg to differ. Chang is looking fierce today, and Weasley's in fine form as well."
"Oh please. Chang's about as fierce as a kitten, and as for Weasley—"
He stopped talking when the entire crowd gasped. Both he and Jones whipped their heads around, looking at the pitch. Draco spotted her first.
"Doesn't look like Weasley's in such fine form, after all, Jones," he said grimly, pointing to the heap of red hair and green robes on the grass below them.
"Merlin, that doesn't look good," said the once-great Beater, absently rubbing her crippled leg. "I should get down there."
"I'll come with you," said Draco without thinking, standing up and hurrying down the endless staircase to the pitch.
The two teams were on the ground, standing in two separate semi-circles on either side of Ginny, brooms in hand, faces concerned. Draco and Gwenog rushed to her side.
It didn't look good. She was unconscious, covered in blood, and Draco noticed something bright white and suspiciously bone-like protruding from her arm.
"Where's the blasted Healer?" bellowed Gwenog to no one in particular, her dark eyes flashing in frustration.
"I haven't seen him since before the match," said one of the Harpies, looking around anxiously. Gwenog roared in anger.
"Calm down, Jones," said Draco calmly, hoping no one could hear his pounding heart. "We've got to get her to St. Mungo's."
She nodded, bending down to pick up her injured player and wincing under her weight.
"Don't be stupid. You can't carry her. What if your leg gives out? Give her to me."
The well-known feminist's eyes flashed at being ordered about, but she said nothing, carefully depositing Ginny into Draco's arms. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him, wide brown eyes a bit glazed over.
"Oh," she said dazedly. "Hullo, Malfoy."
Draco smiled a bit.
"We've got to stop meeting like this, Red."
She nodded once before drifting back into unconsciousness. Careful not to disturb her broken arm, cradled against her bloodied chest, he Apparated them to St. Mungo's.
~*~
"Thank you," Ginny says, smiling at him. "You're so much better at healing spells than I am."
"Well, I've got to be, with you around," he teases, tugging her hair. She swats at him playfully, and he catches her small hand in his own, studying it.
"What is it?" she asks, watching him.
"I don't remember this one," says Draco, lightly brushing his thumb over the purple bandage on her index finger.
"Oh," says Ginny, blushing. "I cut myself while making dinner yesterday."
"You're not even safe from take-away anymore?"
"Erm, no. It wasn't take-away. I was actually making dinner."
"But you don't cook," says Draco bluntly. He remembers the last time she tried, and can in fact still see the faint burn mark on her right hand. Ginny bites her lip.
"I do when I have a date."
"A date?" Draco, incredulous, drops her hand. Ginny rarely dates. Since she broke up with Potter years ago, she's been single-mindedly focused on Quidditch. This is the first time she's ever mentioned a date since Draco has known her, and it's also coincidentally the first time he's ever felt that weird twinge in his stomach.
Sensing his discomfort, Ginny looks down at her injured finger.
~*~
The recipe for Mum's pot roast didn't seem so difficult when she wrote it down yesterday at the Burrow, thought Ginny, frustrated. She poked viciously at the meat, glaring at it as though it had done her personal harm. Perhaps she should just stick with take-away, like every other night...
The doorbell rang, and Ginny groaned. He was here. She quickly brushed some imaginary dirt off her dress, and opened the door.
"Hi Ginny."
"Hi. Adam, right?"
"Yeah. Here, this is for you."
He handed her a bottle of red wine. Ginny smiled.
"Let me go get some glasses. Come on in. Dinner should be ready soon."
Adam took a seat on her sofa, and Ginny brought him a glass of wine. She went back to the kitchen to try to figure out the food, surreptitiously stealing glances at him as she chopped vegetables for a salad. He was more attractive than the last one Hermione had set her up with, at least. He had longish, dirty blond hair and big brown eyes. Hermione said he worked in the Goblin Liasion Office in the Ministry, and he seemed normal enough.
"So what are we having tonight?" he called from the other room.
"One of my mum's recipes, a – oh!"
Ginny looked down at her finger, now spewing blood at an alarmingly fast rate from a deep cut courtesy of her sharp knife. She cursed loudly, and Adam appeared in the doorway.
"What happened?"
"Cut my finger. It's not a big deal. There's a first aid kit in the bathroom, if you would..."
"Of course."
He hurried off in the direction Ginny gestured, and she pressed a towel to her bleeding hand.
Adam returned in a moment, holding her first aid kit.
"You alright?" he asked, concerned. She nodded.
"Believe me, I've had worse. I'm kind of accident prone."
She ran her hand under cold water for a moment, and Adam gently wrapped a vibrant purple bandage over the cut.
"Thank you," said Ginny.
"No problem," said Adam, still holding her hand. Keeping eye contact, he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her injured finger.
"Feel better?"
"Erm," Ginny was suddenly extremely uncomfortable. She gently pulled her hand back. "Actually, I feel a bit woozy."
Adam straightened and sighed.
"Well, you did lose quite a bit of blood. It's a deep cut."
"Yeah... Adam, I hate to do this to you, but could we...?"
"Reschedule? Of course. I understand."
Ginny smiled at him.
"Thank you. I'm sorry, it's just—"
"Say no more, it's fine." She walked him to the door.
"So, erm, owl me sometime?"
"Sure," said Adam politely. Ginny could tell it was just a façade, but appreciated his kindness. She'd canceled their date five minutes into it. She wouldn't have owled her, either.
"It was really wonderful to meet you," she said with a halfhearted smile.
"You too."
"Maybe we could do this again sometime?"
"Sure. I'll owl you."
He smiled at her.
"See you around, Ginny."
She shut the door behind her, immediately going to the kitchen to turn off the oven. She suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. She settled on a long bath, instead.
It wasn't until an hour later, when the bathwater was nearing lukewarm and Ginny had finished sobbing that she realized what was making her so upset.
~*~
"Did you like him?"
"What?" The question tears Ginny out of her reverie.
"Did you like your date? Was he a nice bloke?"
"I suppose so," says Ginny, looking away. Draco can tell she's hiding something, but he's not sure he wants to find out what it is. Regardless, he needs to know.
"Will you be seeing him again?"
"Erm, probably not." Ginny still won't look at him.
"Why not?" He's not sure why he's asking all these questions, or why his heart is beating so quickly, but his mouth doesn't seem to be listening to his brain, and he finds himself starving for information.
"He... left... after I hurt myself."
Anger courses through Draco.
"He just left you there? Injured?"
"No, of course not." He calms a bit. "And honestly Malfoy, I only cut my finger. I didn't lose a leg. He fixed me up and then he... left."
"He just left?"
"No. I asked him to leave."
Now he is confused. She's not making any sense.
"Why?"
"Because."
"That's not an answer, Red."
She snorts at the pet name. He knows she hates it, and that almost makes him want to stop doing it. Almost.
"It's all the answer you're going to get, Malfoy."
"I don't think so. Why did you ask him to leave?" As he pesters her, he begins to realize the meaning behind his actions, the reason he's pushing the topic. He's jealous. And strangely, he doesn't mind.
"Because it was wrong."
"What?" He's surprised. He doesn't know what he expected her to say, but this was not it.
"It was just wrong. He was so sweet, and he was so gentle, and he fixed up my hand so nicely..."
"So what was the problem?"
"He didn't call me 'Red,'" she says quietly. "He didn’t tease me, or pull my hair, or pretend he was angry about having to take care of me."
Ginny looks at the floor, refusing to make eye contact with him, and her voice grows smaller, more unsure.
"He wasn't you."
His eyes are trained on her, watching as she nervously bites her lip, staring determinedly at the floor. He doesn't say anything, just watches her until her eyes slowly travel upwards to meet his. They are wide, unsure, big brown pools of nervousness and uncertainty.
They can't stop staring at each other. The never-ending gaze is intense, and neither wants to break eye contact. Slowly, so slow that neither even notices it, they move towards one another.
"Ginny," Draco whispers once, and then they are kissing.
It's a slow, gentle kiss. He revels in how soft her lips are and she gasps when his hands entangle themselves in her long hair. When they finally break away, she is breathing heavily and he feels as though his heart is about to jump out of his chest.
"Draco," she says breathily. "I—"
He shushes her, not wanting to talk. All he wants right now is to kiss her again. And he does. This time it is not so gentle. It's as if all the pent-up passion in them has finally been freed. Still kissing him, she unbuttons his shirt, and he struggles to pull it off his arms without breaking contact. When he lifts her up, she squeals and wraps her arms and legs around him as he carries her to his bedroom.
He lays her down on his bed and looks at her, realizing in that moment just how long he's been in love with her, just how long he's wanted her. He undresses her slowly, taking in the sight of every square inch of skin that is revealed to him.
He sees the scar above her right breast, from when she thought tree climbing would be a wonderful way to bond with her nephews. There's a still healing bruise on her upper arm from the first of her two falls down the stairs this month.
She watches him study her with a sardonic smirk on her face.
"Draco," she says, pulling him back to earth. "Are we going to do this or not?"
He looks back up to meet her eyes, and notices the grin spreading wide across her face. Feeling a matching one beginning to take over his own mouth, her bends down to kiss her again.
Their lovemaking is neither gentle nor rough, not too slow but not too fast. It is perfect. Being with her, being inside her, it feels like home. He decides then and there that he never wants another woman again. They are made for each other, plain and simple.
Afterwards, they lie facing each other in his bed, her leg slung over his hip and her arms around his neck. His hands trace her face, her arms, the curve of her breasts. He can't get enough of her. Again, his eyes are drawn to the countless scars marking her body. She notices.
"I know, I'm a mess," she says with a laugh. He shakes his head.
"You're beautiful, Gin," he whispers. "These make you even more so."
"That's ridiculous, Draco, It's just proof that I'm a clumsy idiot."
"No," he disagrees. "It's proof of our story."
She smiles.
"Yeah?"
"Look," he says, pointing to her temple. "Here's when we first met, when you hit your head on that nail."
He kisses the spot.
"And here's where you got bit by that fanged geranium and I just happened to find you on the ground, in that heap of dragon dung. You smelled terrible."
He drops kisses to each of her battle scars, recounting the stories as he goes.
"Remember this one? You were convinced that old dump of a house was fascinating. You just needed to go check it out. Didn't even think of all the rogue dark artifacts that might be hanging out in there. Or these ones, here. They mark the exact moment in which you decided you could really live without a cat."
He reaches her most recent injury, the one she'd come to him with today, and brushes his thumb over it gently.
"And this one," he says, staring her straight in the eye. "This one is from the day I realized I've been in love with you from the very beginning."
Her eyes widen and a rosy blush spreads across her cheeks.
"Me too," she says, grinning shyly. "I didn't even realize it until yesterday, but Draco Malfoy, I have been in love with you for simply ages."
He kisses her again, and they don't come up for air for a long while.
Much later, after the sun has already set and they've been in bed for hours and hours, she get out of bed to go to the loo. He watches her as she walks, her shapely bum swaying with each step, and marvels at how perfect she is, and how stupid he's been all this time for not noticing.
His thoughts are interrupted by a loud crash and a high-pitched squeal. Quick as lightning, he bolts from the bed and to the loo. He finds Ginny lying on the floor, clutching her nose in a feeble attempt to stop the blood pouring from it.
"Bloody hell, Weasley!" he cries. "What happened?"
"Your fugging floor was wet, Balfoy! I slibbed!"
Only Ginny, he thinks, unable to contain a snort.
"It's not fuddy! I tink by dose is broken!"
He ceases his laughter and hands her a towel from the sink. He helps her back into her clothing as best he can and, scooping her up into his arms, Apparates them to St. Mungo's for the umpteenth time. The Healers know them by name now, and he goes with Ginny to the examination room.
He watches Ginny glare at him while the Healers fix her nose, and smirks back. So many things are different now, he thinks, but some things will never ever change. It occurs to him that he will probably end up taking care of her like this for a long, long time. And wouldn't you know it, but Draco Malfoy looks forward to it.
He turns at the sound of his name, already knowing what he will find. Sure enough, a petite redhead stands before him, a deep gash in her forehead oozing blood.
"Weasley." Draco shakes his head at her. "Managed to injure yourself yet again, I see?"
Her grin is wide enough to crack some of the dried blood off her cheek.
"You know as well as I do that I do it on purpose so I can visit you more often."
"Right. So what have you done this time?"
"I swear, staircases just don't like me!"
"Weasley, you didn't..."
"Yes Malfoy, I did. I fell up the stairs again."
"Merlin, Red, that's the second time this month."
"I'm telling you, the world is out to get me!"
"And I'm telling you, I've never met anyone clumsier than you."
As Draco wipes gently at her bloodstained face with a wet handkerchief, he notices a faint tiny scar on her left temple...
~*~
Draco hated the Leaky Cauldron. It was dim and musty and smelled suspiciously of cat. And Draco hated cats too. He ducked beneath a low beam and headed towards the back of the noisy pub to enter Diagon Alley. His hand was on the door handle when he heard a loud crash.
A crowd of drunken patrons had gathered not ten feet from where Draco was standing, and they were all yelling and gasping. Draco rolled his eyes and moved towards the group, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Ginny Weasley was lying on the filthy ground, her unmistakable red hair drenched in what was undoubtedly blood. The low beam that Draco had ducked earlier was directly above the unconscious girl, a rust-covered nail protruding from the ancient wood. The heavily intoxicated crowd around her did nothing but gape at her unmoving form.
Draco swore to himself and pushed his way through the circle. He scooped the young woman up into his arms and moved quickly to the fireplace. Frowning angrily at Tom the barkeep, he growled,
"Fix up this goddamn hovel and you won't have to worry about being charged with murder by the Wizengamot, you dumb oaf."
Shifting Ginny's weight in his arms, he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, shouting angrily for St. Mungo's before disappearing in a burst of emerald flames.
The Healers took one look at the woman Draco was holding and immediately whisked her away. Draco sat in an uncomfortable chair in the front foyer, irritably trying to wipe Ginny's blood off his robes and glaring viciously at anyone who dared to look at him.
An hour later, his back was hurting. The chairs in St. Mungo's were far below the standard of seating arrangements he was used to. He shifted his weight in the hard wooden chair, sighing and wondering what he was still doing there. He could have easily left the Weasley girl as soon as he got her here. He could have easily left her on the floor of the pub, too. One of those imbeciles would have gotten her to St. Mungo's eventually...
"Hullo, Malfoy," came a sheepish voice. He turned to see Weasley, a bit worse for the wear. It appeared as though her injury was gone, but there was still some dried blood around her hairline.
"Weasley," he replied with a curt nod.
"Thank you for bringing me here," she said, avoiding his eye. "And for staying to make sure I was okay and all..."
"I wasn't making sure you—" Draco realized that he must have been, or else why would he still be in this damned hospital? "Erm, you're welcome."
"Healer Bones says I'm fine. It was just a nasty cut from that nail and a sizeable bump where I hit my head on the beam. Should clear up just fine. Might leave a bit of a scar though. You probably didn't even need to take me to the hospital, Malfoy."
Draco shrugged.
"But, erm, thank you. Again."
"Yeah, whatever," he said. "Just look where you're going next time."
Ginny blushed.
Draco turned to leave, glancing back at Ginny to see her rubbing some of the blood off her left temple.
~*~
Draco takes his time cleaning her cut. He watches intently as the rust-colored blood disappears, leaving only the ruddy tone of her skin. He dips the cloth in warm water again, and rubs gently at her forehead until the wound is clean, and she looks like Ginny again.
As he moves to place the cloth back into the bowl, some water drips onto her white blouse.
"Oops," he says lightly, glancing at the wet spot near her shoulder.
"Don't worry about it," she replies, lifting her hand to rub at the spot. For a moment, Draco can see the faint white scars on the back of her forearm.
~*~
The owner of the Harpies had by now taken to keeping a private Healer at every one of her training sessions, as well as the matches. Ginny was the best Chaser they had, known worldwide for her risky maneuvers and dangerous tricks on her broom. But she had never once injured herself doing those, oh no. Ginny was infamous for falling from a still hover, only a few metres off the ground. She was safe and sound one hundred feet in the air doing backflips and dodging bludgers, but ask her to do something basic and accidents tended to happen.
Draco was hypnotized whenever he watched her on a broomstick. He never got tired of seeing her fly. She was fearless in the air, and it took a skilled spectator to keep track of her speedy form. He had become that skilled spectator. He'd seen her play several times from his seat in the VIP box, including this match, during which she was playing the team he happened to own, the Falmouth Falcons.
He leaned back in his seat, watching the green-robed Harpies weave in and out in an airborne dance with his grey-garbed Falcons.
"Think your team can actually beat mine today, Malfoy?" laughed the voice of Gwenog Jones from behind him. The owner of the Harpies limped over to seat herself next to him.
"My team could take yours blindfolded, Jones," drawled Draco.
"I beg to differ. Chang is looking fierce today, and Weasley's in fine form as well."
"Oh please. Chang's about as fierce as a kitten, and as for Weasley—"
He stopped talking when the entire crowd gasped. Both he and Jones whipped their heads around, looking at the pitch. Draco spotted her first.
"Doesn't look like Weasley's in such fine form, after all, Jones," he said grimly, pointing to the heap of red hair and green robes on the grass below them.
"Merlin, that doesn't look good," said the once-great Beater, absently rubbing her crippled leg. "I should get down there."
"I'll come with you," said Draco without thinking, standing up and hurrying down the endless staircase to the pitch.
The two teams were on the ground, standing in two separate semi-circles on either side of Ginny, brooms in hand, faces concerned. Draco and Gwenog rushed to her side.
It didn't look good. She was unconscious, covered in blood, and Draco noticed something bright white and suspiciously bone-like protruding from her arm.
"Where's the blasted Healer?" bellowed Gwenog to no one in particular, her dark eyes flashing in frustration.
"I haven't seen him since before the match," said one of the Harpies, looking around anxiously. Gwenog roared in anger.
"Calm down, Jones," said Draco calmly, hoping no one could hear his pounding heart. "We've got to get her to St. Mungo's."
She nodded, bending down to pick up her injured player and wincing under her weight.
"Don't be stupid. You can't carry her. What if your leg gives out? Give her to me."
The well-known feminist's eyes flashed at being ordered about, but she said nothing, carefully depositing Ginny into Draco's arms. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him, wide brown eyes a bit glazed over.
"Oh," she said dazedly. "Hullo, Malfoy."
Draco smiled a bit.
"We've got to stop meeting like this, Red."
She nodded once before drifting back into unconsciousness. Careful not to disturb her broken arm, cradled against her bloodied chest, he Apparated them to St. Mungo's.
~*~
"Thank you," Ginny says, smiling at him. "You're so much better at healing spells than I am."
"Well, I've got to be, with you around," he teases, tugging her hair. She swats at him playfully, and he catches her small hand in his own, studying it.
"What is it?" she asks, watching him.
"I don't remember this one," says Draco, lightly brushing his thumb over the purple bandage on her index finger.
"Oh," says Ginny, blushing. "I cut myself while making dinner yesterday."
"You're not even safe from take-away anymore?"
"Erm, no. It wasn't take-away. I was actually making dinner."
"But you don't cook," says Draco bluntly. He remembers the last time she tried, and can in fact still see the faint burn mark on her right hand. Ginny bites her lip.
"I do when I have a date."
"A date?" Draco, incredulous, drops her hand. Ginny rarely dates. Since she broke up with Potter years ago, she's been single-mindedly focused on Quidditch. This is the first time she's ever mentioned a date since Draco has known her, and it's also coincidentally the first time he's ever felt that weird twinge in his stomach.
Sensing his discomfort, Ginny looks down at her injured finger.
~*~
The recipe for Mum's pot roast didn't seem so difficult when she wrote it down yesterday at the Burrow, thought Ginny, frustrated. She poked viciously at the meat, glaring at it as though it had done her personal harm. Perhaps she should just stick with take-away, like every other night...
The doorbell rang, and Ginny groaned. He was here. She quickly brushed some imaginary dirt off her dress, and opened the door.
"Hi Ginny."
"Hi. Adam, right?"
"Yeah. Here, this is for you."
He handed her a bottle of red wine. Ginny smiled.
"Let me go get some glasses. Come on in. Dinner should be ready soon."
Adam took a seat on her sofa, and Ginny brought him a glass of wine. She went back to the kitchen to try to figure out the food, surreptitiously stealing glances at him as she chopped vegetables for a salad. He was more attractive than the last one Hermione had set her up with, at least. He had longish, dirty blond hair and big brown eyes. Hermione said he worked in the Goblin Liasion Office in the Ministry, and he seemed normal enough.
"So what are we having tonight?" he called from the other room.
"One of my mum's recipes, a – oh!"
Ginny looked down at her finger, now spewing blood at an alarmingly fast rate from a deep cut courtesy of her sharp knife. She cursed loudly, and Adam appeared in the doorway.
"What happened?"
"Cut my finger. It's not a big deal. There's a first aid kit in the bathroom, if you would..."
"Of course."
He hurried off in the direction Ginny gestured, and she pressed a towel to her bleeding hand.
Adam returned in a moment, holding her first aid kit.
"You alright?" he asked, concerned. She nodded.
"Believe me, I've had worse. I'm kind of accident prone."
She ran her hand under cold water for a moment, and Adam gently wrapped a vibrant purple bandage over the cut.
"Thank you," said Ginny.
"No problem," said Adam, still holding her hand. Keeping eye contact, he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her injured finger.
"Feel better?"
"Erm," Ginny was suddenly extremely uncomfortable. She gently pulled her hand back. "Actually, I feel a bit woozy."
Adam straightened and sighed.
"Well, you did lose quite a bit of blood. It's a deep cut."
"Yeah... Adam, I hate to do this to you, but could we...?"
"Reschedule? Of course. I understand."
Ginny smiled at him.
"Thank you. I'm sorry, it's just—"
"Say no more, it's fine." She walked him to the door.
"So, erm, owl me sometime?"
"Sure," said Adam politely. Ginny could tell it was just a façade, but appreciated his kindness. She'd canceled their date five minutes into it. She wouldn't have owled her, either.
"It was really wonderful to meet you," she said with a halfhearted smile.
"You too."
"Maybe we could do this again sometime?"
"Sure. I'll owl you."
He smiled at her.
"See you around, Ginny."
She shut the door behind her, immediately going to the kitchen to turn off the oven. She suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. She settled on a long bath, instead.
It wasn't until an hour later, when the bathwater was nearing lukewarm and Ginny had finished sobbing that she realized what was making her so upset.
~*~
"Did you like him?"
"What?" The question tears Ginny out of her reverie.
"Did you like your date? Was he a nice bloke?"
"I suppose so," says Ginny, looking away. Draco can tell she's hiding something, but he's not sure he wants to find out what it is. Regardless, he needs to know.
"Will you be seeing him again?"
"Erm, probably not." Ginny still won't look at him.
"Why not?" He's not sure why he's asking all these questions, or why his heart is beating so quickly, but his mouth doesn't seem to be listening to his brain, and he finds himself starving for information.
"He... left... after I hurt myself."
Anger courses through Draco.
"He just left you there? Injured?"
"No, of course not." He calms a bit. "And honestly Malfoy, I only cut my finger. I didn't lose a leg. He fixed me up and then he... left."
"He just left?"
"No. I asked him to leave."
Now he is confused. She's not making any sense.
"Why?"
"Because."
"That's not an answer, Red."
She snorts at the pet name. He knows she hates it, and that almost makes him want to stop doing it. Almost.
"It's all the answer you're going to get, Malfoy."
"I don't think so. Why did you ask him to leave?" As he pesters her, he begins to realize the meaning behind his actions, the reason he's pushing the topic. He's jealous. And strangely, he doesn't mind.
"Because it was wrong."
"What?" He's surprised. He doesn't know what he expected her to say, but this was not it.
"It was just wrong. He was so sweet, and he was so gentle, and he fixed up my hand so nicely..."
"So what was the problem?"
"He didn't call me 'Red,'" she says quietly. "He didn’t tease me, or pull my hair, or pretend he was angry about having to take care of me."
Ginny looks at the floor, refusing to make eye contact with him, and her voice grows smaller, more unsure.
"He wasn't you."
His eyes are trained on her, watching as she nervously bites her lip, staring determinedly at the floor. He doesn't say anything, just watches her until her eyes slowly travel upwards to meet his. They are wide, unsure, big brown pools of nervousness and uncertainty.
They can't stop staring at each other. The never-ending gaze is intense, and neither wants to break eye contact. Slowly, so slow that neither even notices it, they move towards one another.
"Ginny," Draco whispers once, and then they are kissing.
It's a slow, gentle kiss. He revels in how soft her lips are and she gasps when his hands entangle themselves in her long hair. When they finally break away, she is breathing heavily and he feels as though his heart is about to jump out of his chest.
"Draco," she says breathily. "I—"
He shushes her, not wanting to talk. All he wants right now is to kiss her again. And he does. This time it is not so gentle. It's as if all the pent-up passion in them has finally been freed. Still kissing him, she unbuttons his shirt, and he struggles to pull it off his arms without breaking contact. When he lifts her up, she squeals and wraps her arms and legs around him as he carries her to his bedroom.
He lays her down on his bed and looks at her, realizing in that moment just how long he's been in love with her, just how long he's wanted her. He undresses her slowly, taking in the sight of every square inch of skin that is revealed to him.
He sees the scar above her right breast, from when she thought tree climbing would be a wonderful way to bond with her nephews. There's a still healing bruise on her upper arm from the first of her two falls down the stairs this month.
She watches him study her with a sardonic smirk on her face.
"Draco," she says, pulling him back to earth. "Are we going to do this or not?"
He looks back up to meet her eyes, and notices the grin spreading wide across her face. Feeling a matching one beginning to take over his own mouth, her bends down to kiss her again.
Their lovemaking is neither gentle nor rough, not too slow but not too fast. It is perfect. Being with her, being inside her, it feels like home. He decides then and there that he never wants another woman again. They are made for each other, plain and simple.
Afterwards, they lie facing each other in his bed, her leg slung over his hip and her arms around his neck. His hands trace her face, her arms, the curve of her breasts. He can't get enough of her. Again, his eyes are drawn to the countless scars marking her body. She notices.
"I know, I'm a mess," she says with a laugh. He shakes his head.
"You're beautiful, Gin," he whispers. "These make you even more so."
"That's ridiculous, Draco, It's just proof that I'm a clumsy idiot."
"No," he disagrees. "It's proof of our story."
She smiles.
"Yeah?"
"Look," he says, pointing to her temple. "Here's when we first met, when you hit your head on that nail."
He kisses the spot.
"And here's where you got bit by that fanged geranium and I just happened to find you on the ground, in that heap of dragon dung. You smelled terrible."
He drops kisses to each of her battle scars, recounting the stories as he goes.
"Remember this one? You were convinced that old dump of a house was fascinating. You just needed to go check it out. Didn't even think of all the rogue dark artifacts that might be hanging out in there. Or these ones, here. They mark the exact moment in which you decided you could really live without a cat."
He reaches her most recent injury, the one she'd come to him with today, and brushes his thumb over it gently.
"And this one," he says, staring her straight in the eye. "This one is from the day I realized I've been in love with you from the very beginning."
Her eyes widen and a rosy blush spreads across her cheeks.
"Me too," she says, grinning shyly. "I didn't even realize it until yesterday, but Draco Malfoy, I have been in love with you for simply ages."
He kisses her again, and they don't come up for air for a long while.
Much later, after the sun has already set and they've been in bed for hours and hours, she get out of bed to go to the loo. He watches her as she walks, her shapely bum swaying with each step, and marvels at how perfect she is, and how stupid he's been all this time for not noticing.
His thoughts are interrupted by a loud crash and a high-pitched squeal. Quick as lightning, he bolts from the bed and to the loo. He finds Ginny lying on the floor, clutching her nose in a feeble attempt to stop the blood pouring from it.
"Bloody hell, Weasley!" he cries. "What happened?"
"Your fugging floor was wet, Balfoy! I slibbed!"
Only Ginny, he thinks, unable to contain a snort.
"It's not fuddy! I tink by dose is broken!"
He ceases his laughter and hands her a towel from the sink. He helps her back into her clothing as best he can and, scooping her up into his arms, Apparates them to St. Mungo's for the umpteenth time. The Healers know them by name now, and he goes with Ginny to the examination room.
He watches Ginny glare at him while the Healers fix her nose, and smirks back. So many things are different now, he thinks, but some things will never ever change. It occurs to him that he will probably end up taking care of her like this for a long, long time. And wouldn't you know it, but Draco Malfoy looks forward to it.
The End.
shmeilia is the author of 3 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 9 members. Members who liked Scars also liked 1237 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 9 members. Members who liked Scars also liked 1237 other stories.
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