Something More

Ginny's hand clutched the edge of the desk so hard that her knuckles began to turn white. The color had drained from her face and the lump in her throat had to be the size of a Gillyweed by now. Her body was so stiff and rigid that even the Whomping Willow would not be able to knock her down.

She swallowed, slowly, attempting to determine whether he was still alive from nearly nine feet away. It was useless, of course.

Draco's usually sleek, silver hair was now matted across his forehead in a wet, sloppy mess of dirt, sweat, and melted ice. How he even made it to the door was beyond Ginny; she could barely walk outside with just a sweater on, and Draco was wearing nothing but a flimsy, ripped up shirt and pair of dark pants that were severely torn at the bottom.

Albeit hesitantly, Ginny took her eyes off of Draco and glanced around the room, anxiously searching for her wand. She discovered the thin piece of wood lying on the desk where the vase was formerly located.

Speaking of the vase...

Oh for cripes sake... She brought her hand to her forehead, slowly closing her eyes and releasing a shaky sigh. Mum's going to kill me. Just as slowly, she opened her eyes, realizing there was a more urgent matter, or rather, person to deal with.

"Accio wand!" she muttered, loud enough for the spell to work. Her fingers wrapped around the nine inch, mahogany wand, before she promptly turned and focused her source of magic on the only other subject present in the room.

Ginny desperately tried to compose herself as she advanced towards Draco. She brushed a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes, wand still fervently pointed at the blonde.

After what seemed like an eternity, the youngest Weasley finally approached the unconscious individual. Bending down on her knees, she surveyed Draco's limp form. Even in his current state of appearance, his chest still rose up and down, breath shallow, but steady.

What was she supposed to do?

Of all the things Ginny could ever expect to happen, having Malfoy appear at her doorstep was by far at the bottom of the list. After all..As far as she was concerned, Draco had disappeared directly after the last fall of Lord Voldemort in Harry's final year at Hogwarts.

Whether he was involved in the whole ordeal was still unknown to Ginny. It was difficult for people to really determine who was on which side during that time, anyway. Though, his rather untimely disappearance was close to a dead giveaway.

No one in the world of wizards, at least to her knowledge, had seen or heard from the Slytherin since then.

That fact, of course, didn't really apply anymore.

Ginny sighed. As much as she hated Draco Malfoy, leaving him to die was not something the girl would receive great pleasure from, regardless of the fact that if Ginny were in his situation, Draco would gladly do the above.

"Mobilicorpus..." she commanded, a little reluctantly, and with a swish of her wand, Draco was hovering in mid-air.

Ginny guided his prone form up the old and creaky wooden staircase, and past the small room where Fred and George conducted their many...experiments. She would never in her right mind enter that room, the things those two did. Dungbomb modification trials that went terribly wrong, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs that..well..the rather large gash in the wall could speak for itself, not to mention the time when George wanted to verify the strength of Belch Powder.

The room was entirely a mess...but at least they had their fun.

The only other room in the upstairs of the shop had been used by the previous owner, in which he slept there often. There was a single bed in the middle of the room, with cream-coloured sheets and pillows. Sheer draperies adorned the window, only slightly tapering the sunlight that shown through.

Ginny regretted ruining the ethereal beauty of the room by setting Draco on the small bed.

She stood there for a moment, biting on her bottom lip in quiet apprehension. The only healing potions she knew of were in the room down the hall; Fred and George used them all the time for minor explosions.

If her brothers were to discover a large amount of potions missing, they would start asking questions, and the last thing Ginny wanted was for her family to find out she was nursing an enemy back to health. Ron would flip.

So Draco would just have to heal the hard way. The Muggle way.

Ginny gathered a small basin filled with warm water, and a washcloth. Dipping the cloth into the water, she wrung out the excess liquid and placed it to his forehead.

The girl felt strangely uncomfortable as she delicately wiped away the blood and dirt from his face. The action seemed a little to intimate for Ginny's liking, seeing as she was disgusted by Draco's very existence in her life.

She'd have to clean the wounds on his chest to prevent infection, meaning the shirt--well, what was left of it--would have to go.

Ginny unfastened the remaining buttons on his shirt, sliding the piece of cloth from his shoulders and down his forearms---

She all but choked at the sight of Draco's inner forearm, for clearly etched across it was the spitting image of a skull with a serpentine snake, dark viridian with blazing red eyes, protruding through it's mouth, and a penetrating glare that chilled her bones to the core.

It was the Dark Mark---it had to be. Books at Hogwarts, save for the ones in the restricted section, didn't have much information on the Dark Mark. They acknowledged it's existence in the world of wizarding, calling it a symbol of pure evil and infernal plague, but images of the mark were not provided due to their overwhelming and disturbing nature.

Draco's a Death Eater. Oh god, Draco is a Death Eater, Ginny panicked.

But...Voldemort is gone, she assured herself. Gone forever.

If he was a Death Eater, or rather, a former Death Eater, it meant he was highly dangerous, and Ginny didn't want to be anywhere near him. But now, she didn't even have the bravery to do anything.

But she needed to do something. The first thing, she realized, was to check if he was armed.

So, frantically, she checked his pockets, torn as they were, for something akin to a wand.

And she found it, sticking out of his left pocket, but only just. She grabbed the thing, her slender fingers grasping around the long--twelve inches to be exact-piece of ink-like coloured wood that seemingly shimmered in the light.

Coiled around the handle of the wand was an intricately carved serpent, and Ginny swore she could hear the beast hissing and biting at her, cursing the girl for even daring to touch the precious wand.

Obviously, the wand was filled with the darkest of powers, powers that were only meant to be used by the darkest of wizards.

The wand scared Ginny, as well as the mark on Draco's arm. It reminded the girl of her unfortunate exposure to the dark side in her second year at Hogwarts, the year she had so desperately tried to forget.

Virginia was too distracted with the wand to notice Draco's stormy grey eyes snap open. His head jerked to the side, abruptly indicating to Ginny that he was indeed awake.

"What the hell do you think your doing!?" he demanded.

Without thinking of the possible consequences, Ginny pointed the wand at Malfoy.

Though her grip was shaky, her words were firm.

"Don't move," she warned.