Crazy

Author's Notes: Many, many thanks to ILuvCaptainJack and the lovely, marvelous Heather B. for fabulous beta work. My apologies to Mel for not including her suggestions.

There's a smattering of lyrics throughout, and they will all be cited at the end.

Crazy

It's a big girl world now, full of big girl things

And every day, I wish I was small

Ginny awoke with bright light in her eyes. She was warm and comfortable, though her head ached and she squinted against the pure, white glare. Her mind was fuzzy, and she struggled to swim up to the surface of consciousness.

"You're awake," an unfamiliar voice said, sounding pleased. "Can you open your eyes?"

Ginny raised a hand to shield herself from the light. It looked...wrong. It wasn't sunlight or candlelight. It seemed to be emanating from two white tubes on the ceiling. Her arm shook at the strain of lifting it. She blinked furiously and finally looked at the stranger standing beside her.

He was a short man, probably no taller than Ginny herself, with plain features and average colored hair. He appeared to be about fifty, but his hair and mustache were untouched by gray. He wore a white coat, and a curious contraption hung around his neck. It looked like a short black rope with a silver cup at one end.

"Who are you?" Ginny croaked. Her throat felt raw.

"My name is Dr. Dunn. Can you tell me your name?" He spoke soothingly as he pried her eyelids all the way open and shone a tiny light in her eyes. The light came from a small black stick that he lit without saying lumos.

"Ginny. My name is Ginny," she whispered, feeling frightened and disoriented as she eyed the light with apprehension.

"Is that short for Virginia?" he asked, picking up a metal clipboard.

"Ginevra," she countered. Her eyes were adjusting to the light now, and she noticed dispassionately that she was dressed in a yellow nightgown and covered by brilliant white sheets.

"Surname?" Dr. Dunn asked, scribbling on his clipboard.

"Weasley. Ginevra Molly Weasley." At the sound of her full name, she gasped. It felt like she had just been doused in cold water. Images flashed in front of her eyes and she couldn't piece them together. Her mother, her father, Ron, Charlie, Harry. Screams rang in her ears.

"Ginny? Hold still." The doctor grabbed her arm as her breathing became more ragged and she struggled to sit up. "You're safe," he murmured over and over. "No one can hurt you here."

After a long moment where Ginny was sure she would pass out, her breathing steadied and she relaxed against her pillows.

"That's better, isn't it?" Dr. Dunn smiled warmly. "Now, do you know where you are?"

Startled, Ginny looked around the room. She was...in a hospital? Except it was like no hospital room she had ever seen. The walls were painted the same inoffensive shade of yellow as her gown, and the only decoration was a still, frozen picture of a sailboat. It didn't rock or sway inside its frame; it looked like it was stuck in the doldrums on an oppressively sunny day. The room was cheerless and alien, and Ginny suddenly felt very trapped.

"St. Mungo's?" she offered hopefully.

A strange look crossed Dr. Dunn's bland features. "No, this is St. Catherine's, in Doncaster. Where is St. Mungo's?"

"In London," Ginny answered in a small voice.

"Interesting. I've never heard of it. Now, I'm going to go speak with the nurse about getting you a hot meal. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Ginny stared, wondering why he was speaking to her as if she was a child. But her stomach got the best of her, and she nodded.

"Good. If you need anything before I get back, just push that button next to your bed and a nurse will come. Alright?"

Ginny nodded again, and the doctor left her alone with her confused thoughts.

She wished she could go back to sleep and pretend this had all been a dream. She was in a Muggle hospital, trapped in suspense. She didn't remember the battle in more than flashes. Who was defeated? Who was still alive? Ginny was certain her parents hadn't survived, but she couldn't think about that now. What about her brothers? Harry?

How did she get here? Ginny wasn't good with geography, but she was fairly certain that Doncaster was hundreds of miles from the site of the battle.

Where was her wand? How long had she been lying in a hospital bed? Dammit, what was going on?

She wanted to scream. Instead, she closed her aching eyes and drifted back into troubled dreams.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

If I smile and don't believe

Soon I know I'll wake from this dream

"Miss Weasley, do you know where you are?"

Ginny sat on a squishy leather couch in a dimly lit office. The latest in a long string of doctors sat across from her, wearing a contrived look of deep concern.

"In a Muggle hospital," she replied, having long since discarded the idea of wizarding secrecy. The doctors could tell she was holding back her answers, and a single slipped word had started an avalanche of revelation. "St. Catherine's," she amended.

"Tell me again what a Muggle is," Dr. Malley asked in that same tired voice that all the doctors used when they talked to her.

"Muggles are non-magic people," Ginny whispered, knowing what would follow that answer.

"So you believe you are a magic person?"

"I'm a witch." She lifted her head proudly and met his eyes for the first time.

The doctor sighed. "Do you belong to...what's the word? A coven?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "There haven't been any real covens since the Middle Ages." She had been over this with half a dozen other doctors, all of whom treated her explanations with kindly tolerance, like they spoke to a child or an elderly relative - like she was simple-minded or mad.

But that was it, wasn't it? They thought Ginny was mad. St. Catherine's was a hospital for the insane. And they wouldn't let her leave. She couldn't go home.

"If there are no covens, where do witches go to practice magic?"

"We don't have to go anywhere. We use magic every day, everywhere we go, as long as there are no Muggles around."

"How many of you are there?" Dr. Malley sat up, looking alarmed at her phrasing.

"I don't know, thousands? Hundreds of thousands? There were a thousand just at my school."

"Where did you go to school?"

"Hogwarts," she said, thinking of the last time she had been there, thinking of Dumbledore's funeral. She blinked to clear her eyes.

"And they teach magic at Hogwarts?"

The name sounded so alien on the lips of this skeptical Muggle. Ginny hated the sound of it. She was suddenly and irrationally angry.

"I'm tired of these questions!" she screeched. "Why won't you let me go? I need to go home. I need to find my family." A sob welled up in Ginny's throat; she slumped back in her seat and covered her eyes.

"Ginny, I'm sorry, but we can't let you go anywhere. We haven't been able to locate or contact any of the relatives you've mentioned. It wouldn't be safe for you to go out on your own." Nothing in the doctor's demeanor indicated that he was at all sorry or that he was concerned with Ginny's safety. He acted like what he was - a jailor.

All the same, Ginny nodded and tried to calm her racing heart.

"Your parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley," he recited, glancing at the file in his lap, "you say they were killed in the war?"

"Yes," Ginny whispered.

"Tell me about the war, Ginny. Tell me everything you remember. Who was fighting? When did it start?"

Ginny told him, like she told all the others, about Voldemort, the Death Eaters, the prophecy, and Harry. She told him of Voldemort's rebirth four years ago, about the Ministry's refusal to believe Harry and Dumbledore until it was too late. She told him about the final battle and the people who fell.

She enumerated the events of her lifetime in a hollow, wooden voice. She had told this story so many times that the memories had almost lost their sting. It was only at night, while she stared at her ceiling and waited for sleep, that she saw their faces, heard their screams, smelled the bitter smoke and ash of the battlefield.

Dr. Malley didn't believe her any more than the others had. After the first few disastrous events of the war -- the collapsed bridge, the hurricane, the messy murders - the Ministry had done a remarkable job of keeping the Muggles ignorant. This doctor, like most Muggles, was completely unaware that a war had been waged at all.

"Well. Time's up for today. See you tomorrow, Ginny." Dr. Malley escorted her to the door, and Ginny suspected that she would not see him tomorrow. He would pass her along to another doctor, then another, until there was no one left to talk to.

Ginny waited outside the door when she heard the doctor's phone ringing. The heavy wooden door blocked out most of his words as he spoke, but a few phrases drifted out and reached Ginny's ears. "Intricate delusions," "totally convinced," "deep trauma." Disgusted, she returned to her room.

Tammy, Ginny's roommate, was sitting on the windowsill when Ginny entered the room.

"Hello, Tammy," Ginny greeted the older woman gently, wary of Tammy's reactions when she was startled out of a reverie. One could never tell how the poor woman was feeling until she spoke; though, from the way Tammy was rocking, Ginny guessed she was off her medicine again.

"Hello," Tammy replied vacantly. "Little kitty, will you stay with me?"

Ginny sighed. One of those days. "Yes, Tammy. I'll stay for a while."

Tammy beamed. "Nice kitty."

Ginny flopped into her bed as Tammy resumed her rocking. She was utterly alone. Most days, Tammy wouldn't even notice that Ginny was in the room. She would sit on her bed, or on the desk, or on the windowsill for hours, muttering "the paps" over and over, whatever that meant.

That was the problem with living in a nuthouse: there were no sane people to talk to.

Ginny ran a hand over her head. Her hair was steadily growing back. When she woke up in that awful yellow room, most of her hair was gone - burned away by fire or magic. Now she had an inch or so of fine red fuzz to cover her scalp, but it was still shocking to look in a mirror and see a gaunt, troubled face where there had once been a pretty, young woman.

Ginny's hand itched for her wand. If she had it, she could grow her hair back in an instant. She could blast the pitying looks from the faces of all those doctors. She could Apparate out of this dreary prison, away from all the madness.

Tammy began to hum softly to herself. Her voice was horribly out of tune, but Ginny recognized the tune as an old lullaby. One Ginny's mother used to sing to her children when they were small. Ginny fled the room.

Down the hall, most of the patients were gathered in a big lounge, crowded with shabby chairs, couches, houseplants, and one ancient television. Ginny collapsed in a chair and lost herself in the chattering voices and the blare of the television.

Everything upset her these days. She had been at St. Catherine's for three weeks, and she had yet to go more than a few hours without tears. Everything, every small sound, every casual word, reminded her of home, of what she had lost.

In the mad babble of the patients, she heard whispered words. Voldemort, Potter, death, Hogwarts, Muggle...

Wait. That wasn't her imagination. Someone was shouting in the corridor.

"Filthy Muggle," the voice said again. Footsteps thundered behind Ginny. She stood and whirled around...

And found herself staring into a pair of cold gray eyes.

"No," she breathed. She took a step backwards and a pale, pointed face came into focus. A face she had last seen on a smoky battlefield, lit by the Dark Mark in the sky. When she had last seen this face, it was set in grim determination while its owner murdered Ginny's parents.

"No!" she shrieked, and flew at him with unbridled rage. The gray eyes widened when she struck him in the face, over and over, screaming her hatred. The room was silent but for her voice and the hurried feet of the orderlies, rushing to stop her.

Strong hands grabbed Ginny's arms. She felt a sting in her neck and the world went black.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I'm broken

Don't break me

"You attacked a man in the lounge."

Ginny sat across from an unidentified blur. She was groggy and disoriented. She felt like she had been Confunded. After her assault on Draco Malfoy she woke up in a room she had never seen. The walls were padded, and she was strapped to the bed. Strapped tight. She panicked, thrashing and screaming until they sedated her again. When she woke a second time, they fed her two little blue pills and loosened her bonds. The pills made Ginny's head feel heavy; she had to be guided to the doctor's office.

"Ginny? Can you hear me?"

She squinted and her eyes cleared a little. It was Dr. Malley speaking to her. She nodded slowly.

"Why did you attack Thomas Miller?"

Ginny's eyes flew open in surprise. "That's not his name." Her words were slurred and sounded as if they were coming from a thousand miles away.

"What is his name?" Dr. Malley looked interested for the first time.

"Draco Malfoy," Ginny whispered, feeling all her hatred come rushing back, warming her to her toes.

"Why did you attack Draco Malfoy?" The doctor pronounced the name slowly and awkwardly. It sounded almost comical coming from this strange man in a white coat.

"He killed my parents," she answered in a bland tone. How could she sound so calm? Ginny wanted to stand up, to scream, to shout - He killed my parents! But she stayed in her seat and twiddled her thumbs.

"Is he magical too?"

"He's a Death Eater." Ginny's mind was beginning to unfog a little. She saw, so clearly, Malfoy stepping from behind Snape and sneering. Rolling up his sleeve and brandishing that ugly black mark.

"That's an evil wizard, right? A follower of Lord Voldemort."

Ginny nodded. She didn't trust her voice.

"Now, this is important, Ginny." Dr. Malley leaned in conspiratorially. "Was that the first time you've encountered Mr. Mi - er - Malfoy since he arrived here?"

Ginny frowned in confusion. "Yes, of course. Why?"

"You didn't speak to him or communicate with him at all in the last three days?"

"Why would I speak to him? I hate him. If I see him again, I'm going to kill him." Amazing how easily those words slipped out. Even more amazing - she meant it.

Ginny had cast her fair share of hexes in her days at Hogwarts. Some of them had even been painful. During the war, in that last crucial battle, Ginny had hit Antonin Dolohov with a Stunner that sent him flying into a rushing river. But that act was tinged with distance, desperation, and rage militaire.

Without her wand, she would have to kill Draco Malfoy with her bare hands. That didn't bother her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Issuing a death threat was apparently a big deal in a mental hospital.

Ginny spent the next three days in the padded room, only untied long enough to eat and use the toilet. She wished they wouldn't make her take the pills while she was strapped down. She slept the days away, plagued by cryptic dreams that eluded her waking mind. When she was awake, she was so groggy that she simply stared at the ceiling and thought about nothing.

As a result, she was totally unprepared the next time she saw Malfoy.

When they finally let her go back to her room, she was heavily drugged. Ginny entered the room she shared with Tammy and headed straight for her bed. Upon pulling back the covers, she discovered a large yellow puddle on her sheet.

Ginny glanced at Tammy, who waved merrily. With a sigh, Ginny shuffled down to the lounge and found a chair away from the crowd gathered around the television. She searched the patch of sky outside the tiny window. A few small birds flew past. It must be October by now, Ginny thought dimly. An enormous cloud blocked out the bright blue, autumn sky. Ginny cocked her head to one side and saw the shape of a hand, reaching out from inside the cloud. She stretched her own hand out to meet it. Her fingers brushed the cold glass. She stayed like this until the wind battered the cloud into a new shape.

"I think it looks like a sailboat," a familiar voice said from behind Ginny's chair.

"Malfoy," Ginny said without turning around.

"Weasley," he countered, mocking her tone. Ginny mustered the strength to stand and face him. His face was badly bruised and there was a cut in his left eyebrow.

"What do you want?" Ginny's voice was vacant and small. She couldn't even summon the emotion required to glare.

"Oh, nothing," he responded airily. "I was only interested in seeing how they punished you for your little outburst. And then I was going to gloat, but it hardly seems worth it now. You're too pathetic." He smirked and turned to go.

Ginny felt her soul straining, screaming, for her to take action, to reach out and strangle him until that smug look disappeared. Her body wouldn't cooperate.

"Wait," she said after a long pause. He faced her again, looking inordinately pleased.

"Yes?" Merlin, she longed to rip his tongue out of his head so he could never speak in that slippery tone again.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

He made a sound almost like laughter. "I'm here for the same reason you are, Weasley. They think I'm mad." He paused for a second. "Though, I think they might be right about you," he added thoughtfully.

"No...I mean, how did you get here? How did they get you?"

The expression on his face snapped shut like a spring trap. "None of your business," he barked, and he whirled on his heel and was gone.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

We can't jump the track,

We're like cars on a cable

And life's like an hourglass

Glued to the table

Ginny spent most of the next week watching Draco Malfoy. He didn't come near her again, nor did he look up while she stared at him, but she was too sleepy with sedation to do anything about it even if he had.

He kept to himself, mostly. The eyes of the other patients slid by him, like they weren't sure he was actually there. He ate meals alone, and spent most of his free time in a corner of the lounge, reading or staring off into the distance.

Malfoy looked much as he had in school, except for a few marked differences. His face was more worn, and had a hardness that it had never possessed before. More noticeably, his left hand was destroyed. Three fingers were fused together and covered with scar tissue, and the pinky stood out at a strange angle.

From the way he fumbled things with his right hand, Ginny guessed the left was his dominant hand. His wand hand.

She felt a surge of sympathy every time she saw that ruined hand. She had to fight it - to remind herself that he was a murderer, and the world was a safer place if Draco Malfoy could no longer hold a wand.

Ginny's sessions with Dr. Malley continued daily. He asked so many questions. He wanted to know everything about magic: who could use it, what they could do, how it was taught. Ginny recited her lessons, going all the way back to first year Transfiguration and Charms.

The sessions exhausted her. Every second, she could feel the weight of his disbelief and pity. Ginny couldn't stand the distant, clinical interest on the doctor's face. Magic was wonderful and beautiful and real. But Dr. Malley only asked questions so he could cure her, so that she would no longer believe in it either.

It wasn't long before she refused to answer his questions.

After four fruitless sessions in a row, Dr. Malley set down his clipboard and looked Ginny in the eye.

"Ginny, do you know why you're here?"

"You think I'm crazy," she answered quietly.

"Do you think you're mad?"

Her eyes flashed. "No. I'm telling the truth."

"Have you ever considered the possibility that this is all too fantastical to be real?"

"I'm telling the truth," she repeated forcefully. "Ask Mal - Thomas Miller. What has he told you?"

"I can't discuss the details of another patient's care with you. But I will tell you that some of his delusions are very similar to yours." Dr. Malley frowned.

"Doesn't that tell you that we're not making this up? I told you we haven't spoken. We went to the same school, had the same classes. They weren't delusions. It's real. He's not mad and neither am I."

Dr. Malley spoke softly. "It's not unheard of for two patients to have similar fantasies. It's not common either, but it usually means that they read the same books as children, or watched the same television programs." Dr. Malley shrugged, maddeningly calm. "The ideas have to come from somewhere."

Ginny stood up. "When you find the book that taught us the same spell and put us on opposite sides of the same war, then I'll answer more questions." She left the office quickly.

She sat in the lounge until an orderly brought her three small pills in a paper cup. She tossed them in her mouth and hid them under her tongue until the orderly left. Then she spit them into her palm. The coating left behind little blue streaks on her hand as she threw the pills in the waste bin. She was tired of feeling like she hung halfway between waking and sleeping.

She was tired of staring passively at Malfoy, letting him walk around free after what he'd done.

Malfoy didn't appear in the lounge that night. The next day was Halloween.

At breakfast, Ginny longed fiercely for a glass of pumpkin juice. She glanced at the ceiling and imagined floating jack-o-lanterns and live bats.

The patients were each given a small pumpkin and a marker to draw faces. Ginny whiled away the hours doodling on the surface of her pumpkin and lamenting the caution that prevented the hospital staff from arming mental patients with carving tools. Even a small knife would have made it easier to carry out her plan.

At dusk, the orderlies lit a few candles and passed out candy. The other patients had put up decorations; little paper bats and ghosts covered the walls of the lounge.

Ginny closed her eyes and pictured the Great Hall at Halloween. The ceiling glittered with stars on a deep blue canvas. Real ghosts passed through the walls and stopped to nod or bow to students. All of Ginny's friends were there, talking and laughing as they enjoyed the feast spread out before them.

"Trick or treat, Weasley?" Malfoy's voice broke into Ginny's fantasy. Her eyes opened and she bolted out of her chair. He still towered over her, but she wasn't afraid. She was ready.

Malfoy held out two fists, palms facing down. His eyes sparkled.

"Trick," she said. He grinned.

"I was hoping you'd say that." He stretched out his ruined left hand and opened his fist. It was empty. Ginny's brow furrowed in confusion, but Malfoy's smile only widened.

He waved his hand and her tiny decorated pumpkin began to shake. The shapes she had drawn glowed brightly and the pumpkin rose above the table. Malfoy's face was bright with concentration and success.

Ginny burst into tears and ran away.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I've been counting on nothing

But he keeps giving me his word

The next morning, Ginny received a visit from Dr. Malley. It was past eleven, but Ginny was still in bed. She hadn't slept well the night before.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Malfoy, shining as he levitated the pumpkin. It was a feat any first year could perform, but Malfoy had done it without a wand. Ginny remembered the warm feeling in her hand when the magical part of herself flowed out through her wand and did what she asked of it. For months, she had survived without that feeling. Malfoy's display made the longing resurface, and the thought of magic tore at her heart.

Her tears also came from relief. If Malfoy could still do magic, then Ginny wasn't crazy. The things she had been telling the doctors for the last two months really were true. She wasn't crazy. Only a day ago, she had been harboring doubts.

"Good morning, Tammy." Ginny heard his voice from the hallway. Ginny was sitting in her bed, worrying a loose patch in her quilt and thinking that she'd like to set it on fire. "Would you excuse us for a moment while I speak to Ginny?"

Ginny looked up in time to see Tammy give Dr. Malley a deep curtsy and blow him a kiss as she left. Ginny looked away when he sat down in the chair beside her bed. She concentrated on the bare, white walls.

"Ginny, you haven't been taking your pills," Dr. Malley said with some gravity. Her eyes met his before she could stop them and she knew she looked guilty.

"They're for your own good, you know. And for the safety of those around you."

"I'm not going to hurt anyone," she said, with a pleading note in her voice.

"We can't take that risk. Since you won't talk to me, and you won't take your medicine, we're going to try a new course of treatment."

Ginny didn't like the ominous note in his tone. "What is it?"

He explained it to her carefully.

Horrified, Ginny searched for a way to respond. "Don't you need my consent for something like that?" she said at last.

"No, we don't," he answered flatly. "Officially, you aren't capable of making that decision. And as you have no relatives, your care is the responsibility of this hospital. The other doctors and I have decided that this is the best course of treatment for you. We start today."

He gave her a long, hard look and walked away.

Ginny was frozen for a long moment, petrified by what he had told her. Then she sprang from bed and ran after him on trembling legs.

"Wait! I'll take the pills. I'll do anything you want!" But he was already gone.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I can't stop the rain

From falling down on you again

I can't stop the rain

But I will hold you till it goes away

Ginny noticed Malfoy staring at her during lunch, but she was too preoccupied to wonder or care why.

Hours later, a stretcher brought Ginny back to her room. She curled up in a fetal position and rubbed the spots on her forehead where suction cups hand pumped the current into her brain. Her fingers still twitched uncontrollably and her jaw was clenched so tightly she thought her teeth would shatter.

Tears slipped silently down her nose and dripped onto her pillow. She watched the wet spot spread until Tammy came in and turned off the lights.

Ginny didn't wake until noon the next day. When a nurse brought her lunch and offered a paper cup of pills, Ginny took them without argument. She didn't get out of bed at all that day. She drifted in and out of consciousness. Her whole body ached and sleep was a welcome release.

Some time after dusk, Ginny's eyes flew open at the sound of someone shifting in the chair beside her bed. Malfoy.

Before he noticed that she was awake, she got a chance to really look at him. He looked so strange in the plain white pajamas that all the patients wore. His hair was a little too long, and he seemed impossibly young. His wrists were thin and bony - they stuck out of the cuffs on his shirt. The look on his face was hard to interpret.

"Malfoy?" she said hesitantly.

"You're awake." He almost smiled. Ginny felt her heart flutter and was appalled.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a voice laden with more hostility than she felt.

"I came to see you, of course. I'm certainly not here to see your large and very disturbing roommate." He shuddered and Ginny was tempted to laugh. She wondered what Tammy had been up to while Ginny was asleep.

Forcing the smile away from her face, she asked, "Why did you come to see me?"

"I was worried when you didn't show up to meals today. I thought they had taken you away." His face contorted, as if this was painful to admit.

"Where would they take me? I'm already at the funny farm. Ha ha." Her words came out loose and nonsensical.

"Where life is beautiful all the time." Now Malfoy really was smiling. It was a sight to behold. He had a childish, winsome smile, and life was a little more beautiful than the moment before.

Ginny frowned and tried to slow her racing heart. "Malfoy, why would you care if they take me away?" she whispered.

His smile faded into a grimace. "I'm a selfish creature, Weasley. I hate this place, and I hate the way everyone looks at me. The doctors think I'm mad, and they look at me like a specimen in a jar. And the others...to them, I'm not even real. You're the only one who knows." He clenched his fists. "You might hate me, but at least that's real. And you know I'm not crazy. So...I guess I'm saying that I need you. I don't know if I'd survive this place without you here." He didn't look at her at all while he spoke, and when he fell silent, he seemed drained, like it had taken all his strength to speak so candidly.

Ginny felt torn in two. Some part of her, getting smaller by the minute, still wanted to see him dead. The other part recognized that she needed him as much as he needed her. Malfoy was all that was left of her world.

When she didn't respond, Malfoy stood and turned for the door. Ginny caught his wrist in a weak grip without thinking about it.

"Please, will you stay for a while?" Her voice quivered. He nodded and sat again. She released his arm and her fingers clenched in a strong spasm. She tried to hide her hand under the covers, but Malfoy saw it anyway. His eyes met hers for a brief second as he trapped her twitching fingers between his own.

Gentle warmth flooded into her hand as Malfoy began to whisper under his breath. Ginny's fingers relaxed and the warmth spread to the rest of her body, soothing the aches and pains away. Her eyes drifted shut and she felt truly well for the first time in months. His broken hand moved to her forehead. She clasped it in hers, opening her eyes and smiling at Draco Malfoy. What a strange concept.

Suddenly very embarrassed, she broke eye contact and looked at the hand she held. "What happened?" She traced the line of a deep scar on his palm with her finger.

He smiled grimly. "Your brother did that."

Ginny gasped. "Ron?"

Malfoy nodded. "At the battle. I fired a hex at him and he blocked it with...well, I don't know what it was, but it destroyed my wand and burned my hand." He cast a disgusted glance at his hand. "Actually, I was almost impressed. After I was done damning him, his entire family, and all of his future children." Malfoy treated her to that crooked smile again.

Ginny's eyes prickled with tears. She remembered Hermione talking about that spell. She and Ron had spent months researching it, making everything just right, before it could be used. It was designed to do exactly what Malfoy said; it blocked a spell and sent it rebounding back into the wand that cast it and destroyed the wand completely. Ginny hadn't been in battle long enough to use it, and she was incredibly proud of her friends' success.

"How can you do magic without a wand?" She released his hand and stared at her own.

"Magic doesn't come from the wand itself. Wands only channel our natural abilities into a tangible result." He sounded like Hermione used to when she had learned something really interesting. "It's my theory that your brother's spell melded pieces of my wand into my hand, and I can use them as a conductor for some small spells. You see, wands are made of materials that conduct magic, like metal conducts electricity."

Ginny flinched at his choice of words, feeling again the sting of the current. She pushed it out of her mind and tried to think of how good she felt a moment ago. "But that wasn't a small spell you did on me. That was a Healer-level rejuvenation charm."

Malfoy brightened. "That's another theory I have. My wand was made of dragon heartstrings and hawthorn wood. You remember Mr. Ollivander? He tells everyone who comes in his shop how phoenix feathers are good for Transfiguration, unicorn hairs are good for Charms, and so on. Dragon heartstrings are good for a lot of things, including healing. You'll find they're used in most healing potions. So is hawthorn. I'm guessing that when you put the two together, you create a wand ideal for healing, even if the material itself is diminished."

Ginny smiled. This was a side of Malfoy she doubted many people had seen. It was almost endearing. The half of her that remembered what Malfoy used to be chose that moment to assert itself. Her face fell.

"Malfoy, what happened in the battle? How did it end?"

His eyes clouded. "You don't know? Weren't you there?"

"I was injured and taken off the field early in," she told him as she tried to quell the flood of images that rushed past her eyes. "Someone set fire to the Healers' tent." Her hands went up to touch her ragged hair. "I must have escaped...the next thing I remember, I was here."

Malfoy took a deep breath. "I'm not sure exactly what happened. Potter surrounded himself and the Dark Lord with some kind of protective ring. No one could get past it. There was so much chaos...I lost sight of them for a while. Then there was this flash, and everything stood still. We stopped fighting and watched. The ring was gone, and Potter had his arms around the Dark Lord and...and they were burning. Everyone ran away...I don't know what happened after that."

A tear escaped from Ginny's eye. Harry was dead. It had always been a possibility, but in the back of her mind, she had kept a tiny drop of hope. Hope that Harry was alive and that he would come to find her. I'll never get out of here, she thought.

"What did you say?"

Ginny cringed when she realized she had spoken out loud. She shook her head, tried to brush it off.

Malfoy's face changed. Back to the sneering, scornful expression Ginny knew so well. "You mean to say you've been harboring fantasies of a daring rescue by precious Harry? Well, maybe you're crazy after all." With that, he swept out of the room, leaving Ginny stunned and completely perplexed.

Father forgive us

For what we must do

You forgive us

We'll forgive you

Ginny had a long time to think after Malfoy left. How could he be two completely different people at the same time? The Malfoy she had known since she was eleven was nasty, petty, greedy, and selfish, but he was none of those things when he poured healing into her hand and talked about the war. It was easy to forget, when he spoke, that they had been fighting on opposite sides.

He had been kind and gentle, funny and clever. Where had that part of him been hiding all those years? Or was it all a show - an attempt to charm her because he needed her?

Ginny was still puzzled by his reaction just before he left. She had no idea why her words had upset him so. That train of thought led her back to Harry.

Harry and Ginny said their goodbyes before the battle. They never officially got back together after he so nobly dumped her at Dumbledore's funeral, and he had been furious when she followed him in his search for the Horcruxes. When no amount of shouting or threats to call her parents succeeded in sending her home, he accepted her as part of his team. Ron still wanted to ship her back to her parents, but he bowed to Harry's discretion.

They had all considered the possibility that Harry would die when he faced Voldemort, and Ginny had time to mourn him while he was still there to comfort her; it was better that way - she couldn't afford to worry about him once battle began.

A part of her had known he was dead. She felt it every time she thought about him. But now...the romantic, little girl inside of her had to give up the idea of a white knight and a daring rescue.

It was time to grow up, to face reality and give up her fantasies.

It was dawn - time to go find Malfoy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The security guard was asleep at his desk. Ginny shuffled past him silently in her slippers. The patients' doors were marked with their names; Ginny got all the way to the end of the hall before finding the door labeled Thomas Miller. She wondered for the first time why Malfoy had chosen that name.

Malfoy slept in the only single room on their floor. Ginny was thankful for that; some of the men on this ward were truly frightening, and she wouldn't want to startle any of them with her early morning visit. She pushed open Malfoy's door.

His windows faced southeast, so the room was already dimly lit by the rising sun. She could see him clearly, stretched out on the single bed, his feet hanging off the end and his arms clutching a pillow. He wasn't snoring, but Ginny hadn't expected him to. He was dignified, even in sleep. She crouched next to his bed and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Malfoy?"

Before she could blink, she was pressed against the wall with his hands around her throat. She couldn't breathe for what seemed an eternity. Then his eyes cleared and he released her. With a shudder, he collapsed onto the bed.

"Don't do that!" he breathed.

"I'm sorry." Her voice came out hoarse. He looked up sharply, alarmed, and reached out a hand to tip up her chin. Her neck was terribly sore. His left hand traced a line across her throat, and for a moment Ginny's heart failed to beat. She shivered at the heat of contact. The pain in her throat disappeared.

Ginny had a sudden and overwhelming urge to put her arms around him. He looked so...cute, with his rumpled pajamas and messy hair.

She had certainly never denied that Malfoy was handsome, but this look of sleepy vulnerability was more alluring than his most calculated smile. She took a step back to put him out of arms reach.

Malfoy sat down again and rubbed his eyes. "Weasley, what are you doing here? It's six in the bloody morning." He sounded exhausted.

She shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."

"So I don't get to sleep either?" he asked petulantly.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Look...I don't want to talk about the war. And I probably don't know anything that you want to hear about."

Ginny frowned. "You didn't see any of my family at the end?"

"I think I saw a few of your brothers when it was all over and we were all rounded up. Your parents, though..." He grimaced.

Ginny felt like a gallon of ice water was just dumped over her head. Any good feelings she'd entertained for Malfoy were swept away by this harsh reminder. "You killed them." Her words were flat and accusing.

"Yes, I did." He stared at her. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Why?" she whispered.

"Because it's six a.m. and I'm tired."

"No - why did you..." She couldn't make the words come out right.

"We were enemies. It was war. And Voldemort would have killed my mother if I hadn't!" He was shouting now and breathing hard.

Ginny's mind began racing. How many times could her opinion of him change in one hour? Her hatred melted into pity. If someone was going to kill her own mother, could Ginny utter the Killing Curse to save her? No matter what angle she approached the question from, the answer was no. In battle, Ginny cast Stunners and Petrificus Totalus, but never Avada Kedavra. She hadn't been strong enough to kill Malfoy when she had the chance. She didn't have the strength to take a life, even to save one she cherished.

"Did you save her?" Ginny asked quietly.

"She was already dead," he spat, his tone raising every hair on Ginny's body. "He tricked me, made me into a monster. I did it for nothing."

All hesitation left Ginny's mind. She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him. His body was rigid with emotion, and he stiffened further at her initial touch, but soon he relaxed as she stroked his back and whispered soothing words.

His breathing was ragged against her shoulder, and his tears stained her nightgown. She didn't mind.

One image had stayed with Ginny throughout her time at St. Catherine's- an image of her parents' final moments. It had sustained her, supplied her with a wide river of hatred and anger. Now the image changed. It was no longer Draco Malfoy, the evil, ruthless Death Eater, who uttered those fatal words. That Malfoy was gone. In his place stood a frightened young man, glancing over his shoulder at the dark figure that held his mother captive and goaded Malfoy into unspeakable acts.

Ginny's anger over the death of her mother and father had not dissipated. But the man she held in her arms wasn't a murderer. He was a victim, just like Ginny - and he had lost his mother too.

"Draco," she murmured. He pulled back to look at her. "I forgive you."

Merlin, she thought. His smile was like a sunrise.

"You know," he said. "We may not be crazy, but we're both pretty fucked up."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Open my heart

There's something telling me

To open my heart

And so an odd sort of truce was established between Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley. Ginny soon came to the realization that, while she didn't hate Malfoy anymore, and while she almost trusted him, she didn't have to like him. He still carried himself with inhuman levels of pride - even more now that he had quite a bit of undignified behavior to compensate for. He still made unkind remarks about Ginny's family, though he restricted his insults to members of the Weasley family who were still alive.

Ginny gave as good as she got, made more difficult by the fact that Malfoy had no living relatives to abuse. She was forced to find new things to ridicule Malfoy for, which was surprisingly easy.

"Why do you walk like that?" she asked him as he sat down across from her at lunch one day.

He looked confused. "Like what?"

"Like a girl. You don't walk - you nance."

"I do not!" he gasped.

"You do too. You nance around like a little girl." Ginny did a fair impression of his notorious smirk.

Malfoy sniffed. "If I choose to comport myself with a little more grace than your average galumphing elephant, I don't see what's wrong with that."

Ginny grinned. "Elephants are actually quite graceful for their size."

He threw a handful of lettuce at her.

She threw a handful of Jello at him. His hair was injured and spent the next week sulking.

If someone had asked Ginny six months earlier what she and Malfoy had in common, the answer would have been immediate and decisive: nothing. Now, Ginny was pleasantly surprised by the fact that she and Malfoy never ran out of things to talk about. Most of the time they didn't talk about anything important; he never mentioned the events of the past year again, and neither did she. They were both simply relieved to talk openly to someone who wouldn't examine their words or attempt to read between the lines, where nothing was written.

On most subjects, they disagreed - sometimes loudly. The orderlies had to separate them after a thunderous row concerning the proper treatment of house elves. The argument got physical after he snidely reminded her that her family had never been able to afford an elf, and she might have implied that Dobby was actually his father.

It's no wonder, Ginny thought later, that these Muggles think we're mad.

Ginny's 'treatment' continued for several weeks. When she returned to her room after hours of pain, she was exhausted, aching, and dizzy. Each time, Malfoy was waiting to heal her with a gentle touch. It was different from the first time - there was little affection in his touch, and his hands never lingered on her body longer than necessary. Ginny preferred it that way. His presence was confusing enough in itself.

Though Malfoy was much the same as he had been at school, Ginny saw glimpses of the pain and vulnerability he had worn that morning, so many weeks ago. It was hard to keep her feelings distant when he showed her a smile full of such innocence.

Today, four months to the day since Ginny arrived at St. Catherine's, was the worst day yet. For the first time, she screamed as the nurses turned their dials and watched their screens.

Malfoy peeked into her room a few minutes after they wheeled her in. She was huddled under the covers, shaking and weeping. When he approached the bed, she seized him by the front of his shirt.

"We have to get out of here," she stammered.

He looked torn between anger and intense sadness. "How?" he asked quietly. His voice had sharp edges. Her grip relaxed and she leaned back on her pillows. He stroked her hand while she searched for an answer.

"We can escape," she said at last, when she began to feel the warmth of his healing charm.

"Again I ask, how?" he snapped. "There are bars and alarms on every window, guards at every door. I'm not strong enough to Apparate - believe me, I've tried! It's pointless to even think about it."

"We'll tunnel under the walls." Ginny giggled. The relief she felt with his hands in hers outweighed this enormous problem, at least for the moment. Without realizing it, she slipped into a deep sleep. When she woke, he was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

What is living if I can't be free?

What is freedom if I can't be me?

For the next few nights, Ginny didn't sleep well. Her body ached from the shocks, but her mind stayed alert and worried for most the night. She tossed and turned, listened to Tammy talking in her sleep, and fretted. Images of escape, of freedom and peace, plagued Ginny for hours.

When morning dawned after the fifth sleepless night, she had an idea.

She waited until after breakfast to spring it on Malfoy. They went to his room to avoid the tiresome stares of their fellow loonies.

"So what's the idea?" Malfoy asked impatiently from the edge of his bed. Behind the harshness of his tone, Ginny could hear a note of hope - or maybe desperation.

Ginny was suddenly unsure if it was a good idea. She hesitated; her mouth opened and closed soundlessly. He glared. "Spit it out, Weasley."

"I was thinking," she said quickly, "that if you showed the doctors what you can do, they would know that we're telling the truth and they'd have to let us go. Or, at the very least, we could threaten to hex them, if they don't." She said all this in one breath, and then clamped her mouth shut, feeling extraordinarily stupid.

Malfoy's face was slowly changing from pale to bright red. "Are you mad?" he boomed.

Ginny cowered in her chair. Malfoy wasn't done shouting.

"Do you have any idea what would happen if they knew we were telling the truth? Do you have any idea what Muggles do to people like us? Witch burning wasn't a joke, and it's not half as bad as what they can do now. You think they'd let us go? No! They'd lock us up like a pair of rats and do experiments on us to figure out how we do it. We would never be allowed to leave, and no wizard or witch would ever be safe again. The Muggles would find them, the wizarding world would be overrun, destroyed, and our dear savior Potter would have died for nothing. You would sacrifice everything that was saved in the war to save yourself?" His face was a deep shade of purple by now, but he appeared to have spent his rage. His breathing slowed and his voice quieted.

"I want to get out of here too. I want to go home. But I can't risk everything and everyone I love for my own selfish reasons."

Ginny was saved from answering by the sudden entrance of two orderlies and a guard, drawn to Malfoy's room by the shouting. They looked puzzled when they found Ginny and Malfoy sitting quietly.

"Is...um...everything alright in here?" the guard asked stupidly.

"Fine," Malfoy and Ginny snapped in unison. Malfoy fixed on them a look of pure malice and the peacekeepers retreated, still wearing confused expressions.

Ginny glanced at Malfoy. "I'd better go." He didn't look up from the stain on the floor at which he was staring. It looked suspiciously like blood. Ginny exited quietly.

The next morning, Ginny went to see Dr. Malley. She begged him to stop her current treatment and agreed to resume her sessions with him and cooperate completely.

If she had to stay here indefinitely, she thought she might as well make herself more comfortable.

The most unpleasant condition of this new arrangement was the continuation of the pills, which Ginny took daily with supervision. It was extremely annoying to spend five minutes a day with an orderly, as he examined the inside of her mouth until he was satisfied that she had properly swallowed her medicine. But that was nothing when compared to the pills themselves. There was nothing more frustrating than losing control of your own body, she thought, and the sedatives made her feel as if she inhabited an empty shell. She couldn't run, she couldn't laugh - sometimes, she couldn't even talk. It was as if this dried out husk couldn't be bothered to live.

At meals, she sat with Malfoy and tried to listen when he spoke. It was difficult. He watched her with pity and she knew that should make her angry, but it didn't. At times, his expression changed to something deeper, something that made her heart want to break, and once, he touched her face and mouthed, "I'm sorry." Ginny couldn't respond.

Malfoy was a topic of frequent discussion in Ginny's meetings with Dr. Malley.

"You've been spending a lot of time with Draco Malfoy," Dr. Malley remarked during their first session in over a month.

Ginny just nodded.

"Why?" he asked blandly. "I was under the impression that you hated him, that you wanted him dead."

"I did," she admitted.

"You don't anymore? Why not?"

Ginny smiled faintly. "I need him." The doctor looked mystified. Ginny went on. "Have you ever been abroad?"

Her question did nothing to disperse Dr. Malley's confusion, but he nodded. "I've been to India and Rome."

She smiled. "In a strange place, a foreign place, you need something that reminds you of home, something familiar. I need Malfoy to remind me that home is real, because...this is the strangest place I think I've ever been."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Don't try to fix me

I'm not broken

A week later, maybe two, maybe four (it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep track of time), Ginny woke up to the sound of a disturbance in the corridor. Tammy sprang from her bed to investigate, but Ginny was too tired to move. She listened as more footsteps and voices joined the din.

And then it stopped. Tammy returned to the room wearing a triumphant smile. Without waiting for permission, she plopped down on Ginny's bed, narrowly avoiding Ginny's legs.

"Your pretty boyfriend," Tammy began, dragging out her words and savoring each syllable. Ginny sat up abruptly. "He's not very pretty today." Tammy laughed riotously.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked as sleep began to clear from her mind.

Tammy only laughed harder. "Ricky," she gasped between peals of laughter, referring to a large, alarming man who lived two doors down from them. "Ricky made your boyfriend's face all purple and red, like wildflowers in June." Tammy laughed until she slid to the floor. Ginny stepped over her and ran for the infirmary.

When she arrived, a nurse stopped her at the door. "You can't go in there, dear. Go back to your room. Mr. Miller will be fine."

Ginny felt like screaming. She stood her ground until the nurse shrugged and went back inside. Then Ginny started pacing the hallway. She could hear the low hum of voices from beyond the double doors and thought longingly of the twins' Extendable Ears.

This was such a familiar scene. How many times had she waited outside the hospital wing at Hogwarts while Madame Pomfrey patched up Harry or one of Ginny's brothers? She closed her eyes and sank against the wall, trying to recall the pleasant scent of the peppermint that Madame Pomfrey used to cover up the foul smell of healing potions and salves. This hallway smelled of floor cleaner and antiseptic. It smelled like Muggles and gloom.

Ginny was still waiting an hour later when two orderlies wheeled Malfoy out on a stretcher. Ginny sprang to her feet and followed them.

"Is he alright?" The panic began to set in as Ginny caught sight of Malfoy's battered face. It was exactly as Tammy described - purple and red. Both of his eyes were swollen, his lip was split, and black stitches stood out against his pale skin.

"He'll be fine," the orderlies assured her. They pushed the stretcher to Malfoy's room and carefully deposited him in bed. Ginny sat on the chair and watched over him, as he had done for her so many times.

She was struck again by how small and young he looked when he slept. The cuts and bruises that marred his face looked so painful that Ginny wanted to cry. She carefully lifted his damaged left hand into her lap and stroked his palm.

At length, he began to stir. Her heart leaped when he groaned and squeezed her hand. When his eyes opened in tiny slits, he withdrew his hand, looking startled.

"What do you want?" he croaked.

"Just to see if you're okay," she replied quickly, feeling suddenly very embarrassed at her display. Hurt or not, this was still Malfoy. She changed the subject. "Why did Ricky hit you?"

Malfoy flinched as his hand went involuntarily to the stitches above his eye. "I called him a Muggle. Apparently he found that very insulting. His pride may never recover, and neither will my face."

Ginny laughed weakly. She felt ready to burst with anxiety. "Malfoy," she said. "We can't stay here." He sighed and struggled to sit up, but he fell back, clutching his ribs. Calling on all her nurturing instincts, Ginny slid her arm behind his back and propped him up on a pillow. She resisted the urge to smooth his hair.

When he was more comfortable, he said slowly, "We've been over this, Weasley. There's no way out."

"I know a way," Ginny said after a long pause. An idea had been floating around in her head for a while, but it seemed a little too impossible - until now. "You're going to have to trust me."

Malfoy looked doubtful. "Forgive me if I'm a little hesitant. I've heard enough of your cunning plans to know that a statement like that doesn't bode well for me. What do you have in mind?"

"Like I said, you have to trust me. And I have to trust you." She told him the plan.

He thought for a moment. "It's going to be difficult," he said at last. "If it doesn't work - "

She cut him off. "Either way, we'll never have to see this place again."

Malfoy glanced around his dreary room. He touched the stitches that bisected his eyebrow. He nodded. She touched his shoulder lightly.

"I have to do something first," she told him, getting up to go. She left him deep in thought.

A few minutes later, she burst into Dr. Malley's office. Thankfully, he was alone, sitting at his desk and scribbling on a yellow pad of paper.

"Ginny," he said without looking up. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to go outside," she gasped, out of breath from her longest run since summer.

Dr. Malley's eyes met hers now. "But it's snowing."

Alarmed, Ginny glanced at the window. A fine mist of tiny snowflakes blew past the glass. The ground was covered with a thin layer of perfect white snow. Ginny wondered what day it was, how long she had been walking around in a daze. She turned back to the doctor.

"Please. It's important."

He nodded, looking resigned. "Alright. I'll take you myself. Get your shoes, and I'll see if one of the nurses will let you borrow a coat."

Ginny sighed with relief and ran for her room.

Dr. Malley met her at the front entrance and offered her a thick wool coat. It smelled of cigarettes and expensive perfume. The odor helped Ginny identify the owner, and she reminded herself to thank the nurse later.

The security guard opened his mouth to stop them as Dr. Malley opened the door for Ginny. A quiet word from the doctor quieted the guard, and Ginny hurried outside.

Her breath streamed out of her mouth in white puffs. It was the first time she had been outside in what seemed like forever, but she didn't have time to enjoy the sight of snowflakes and the feeling of fresh air. She searched the small yard for what she had seen from the window.

There. She dashed over and ran her hands across the leafless branches. The thorns tore at her skin, but she found exactly what she was looking for.

"What are you going to do with that?" Dr. Malley asked as they walked back inside.

"Nothing," Ginny replied with a smile.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Malfoy was asleep again by the time Ginny returned the coat to Nurse Wilson and warmed her hands with a cup of cocoa. She didn't want to disturb him, but she couldn't wait. She shook him until his eyes opened again and he glared at her.

"I brought you something." She forced herself to smile as she held out her gift, wishing there was something more she could do for him. He looked askance at her.

"Hawthorn," she said, in perfect imitation of Ollivander's crisp accent. "Twelve and a half inches, very sturdy." She made a show of twirling the stick around her fingers, and then pointed it at him. "Very good for healing charms." Now she smiled sincerely and handed it over.

"Where did you get it?" he asked softly.

"The hedgerow outside. I noticed the hawthorn there a while ago, but today it seemed most appropriate."

Malfoy held the makeshift wand awkwardly in his left hand. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "I wonder..." He touched the end to his lip and whispered under his breath. When he pulled the stick away, the cut on his lip was still there, but much smaller.

Ginny let out the breath she'd been holding with a shaky laugh. "A conductor."

"Not as good as the real thing," Malfoy said as he turned it over and over, examining it from every angle. "But much better than what I've got." He smiled. "Thank you."

She smiled back. "Do you think it will help?"

"Give me a few days to try it out."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Suddenly I know I'm not sleeping

Hello, I'm still here

All that's left of yesterday

On Christmas Eve, Malfoy appeared at breakfast for the first time since his visit to the infirmary. His cuts and bruises were almost entirely healed, though it had been less than a week.

He sat next to Ginny and flashed her a brilliant smile. She gaped at him.

"So much for keeping your magic a secret," she remarked. The other patients were openly staring.

"The doctors declared that they've never seen such a quick healer, and chalked it up to their superior care and lots of rest." He snorted. "They don't suspect a thing."

Ginny laughed. It was amazing how little Muggles noticed when they put their minds to it.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked suddenly. She dropped the toast she was holding before it reached her mouth.

"Yes," she answered quietly, though she wanted to stand on the table and shout it. "Now?"

He shook his head. "We'll wait till dawn. That way, if it goes wrong...well, it won't be long before they come looking for us."

It was agreed. Today was their last day at St. Catherine's.

It passed slowly. The kitchen staff prepared a special meal for the holiday, and afterwards all the patients had a small gift to open. Some had received packages from their families. Ginny's throat tightened when she opened the only gift addressed to her. It was a small box of chocolates, signed 'The Staff.' Dawn couldn't come fast enough.

"Merry Christmas, Weasley." Malfoy appeared at her side and forced a box into her hands. She stared at it and willed herself not to cry.

"But I didn't get you anything."

"Yes, you did." He took out his hawthorn branch and waved it at her. "Now open it."

She did. The box held a scarf made of the softest yarn, dyed a brilliant green, with a matching hat. She gasped. "They're beautiful. Where did you get them?"

He beamed. "I charmed one of the nurses into knitting them for me. There are no limits to the Malfoy charisma." He buffed his nails on the front of his shirt and looked very pleased with himself.

Ginny laughed and threw her arms around him. "Thank you," she said in his ear.

Malfoy drew back and smiled crookedly. He plucked the hat out of her hands and jammed it down over her ears, letting his hands linger on her hair.

"That's a good color for you. Shame you weren't in Slytherin." His lips curved again and he walked off.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ginny lay awake long after the lights went out. After two hours of fidgeting, she got out of bed, put on her shoes, gathered what few belongings she had, and crept down to Malfoy's room.

He wasn't asleep, either. He looked up when she entered, not surprised to see her. She set her things down and sat beside him on the bed. Neither of them said a word for a long time.

"We should get some rest," he said after a while. He stood and pulled the covers back. Without thinking, Ginny crawled beneath the blankets. Malfoy slipped into bed beside her.

They lay side by side on the narrow bed, their shoulders and hips touching lightly.

"Malfoy?" Ginny whispered. He touched her hand in reply. "If we make it out, where will you go?"

He was silent for a moment before answering. "I don't know."

She gripped his hand. "You can stay with me," she offered.

He laughed faintly and pulled her to his chest. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent.

She awoke several hours later, still cradled in Malfoy's arms. Her fingers were tangled in the fabric of his shirt. His face was buried in her hair. It was...comfortable. Nice.

It was also starting to get light outside. The sky, still black, was beginning to grey around the edges. Time to go.

Ginny opened her mouth to say Malfoy's name and found him already awake and watching her. "Morning," she said awkwardly. He blinked to clear his eyes and glanced at the sky outside.

"Hurry," he whispered and disentangled himself from her arms and the blankets.

Silently, they put on their shoes and sweaters. Ginny draped her scarf around her neck and put on her hat. With a quick glance around the room, they crept into the hall.

As usual, the guard was asleep. He twitched a little as they walked past him, but gave no other sign that he was aware of them. At the other end of the building, Malfoy took out the hawthorn branch and touched it to the door to the stairwell.

"Alohomora," he whispered. The door clicked faintly and stayed locked. He tried again, and again, until finally the pins and tumblers moved aside to let them through.

It was eight floors to the top. The door to the roof was secured with a deadbolt. It took more than five precious minutes to unlock. Ginny was beginning to panic when the bolt at last gave up the fight and clicked over.

When Malfoy opened the door, an alarm sounded in the stairwell. They rushed out onto the roof, slamming the door behind them. Malfoy sealed the lock shut.

"That will buy us a few more minutes," he said. "Ready?"

Ginny hesitated. "Are you sure you want to do this? We could go back..." She glanced at the door.

"I hate this place," he said acidly. "If it weren't for you...these might have been the most miserable months of my life. And there's a lot of competition for that particular title." He paused and gripped her arms. "This place will kill us if we stay - kill us or make us crazy. You were right from the beginning. We can't stay."

Ginny nodded. They could still hear the siren through the door. "Are you sure you can do this? That it will work?"

He grinned. "No."

Ginny put her hands on his shoulders. "If we don't make it..." She trailed off as their eyes met. She stood on tiptoe and touched her lips to his. His mouth curved under hers. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet. Her arms circled his neck, and they lost a few more crucial moments.

When he put her down and they broke apart, his smile was steady, but his eyes were sad. "But if we do make it..."

She touched his cheek and smiled back. "Your friends will think you're mad for fraternizing with a blood traitor."

"And your family will disown you for associating with a Death Eater," he countered.

Footsteps rang out in the stairwell. They were out of time.

"Ready?" he asked again.

"Ready," she replied, forcefully. They walked to the edge and stepped up onto the wall.

Malfoy's left hand wrapped tightly around his wand. Ginny held his other hand, twining her fingers with his. Their eyes met one last time.

They stepped out into the grey morning light.

Author's notes:

Lyrics (in order of appearance):

"Where would they take me? I'm already at the funny farm. Ha ha."

"Where life is beautiful all the time." - from "They're Coming to Take Me Away" by Napoleon XIV (a shout-out to my drinking buddy Juanita)

St. Catherine's is a real mental hospital in the county of South Yorkshire. The doctors and patients in this story are fictional, and not based on real people, with the exception of Tammy, who is unfortunately quite real.

I will admit complete ignorance about the mental health care system in the UK, though I imagine they do not still use electro-shock therapy. I hope no one is offended by its appearance here.