Until Death Parts Us... Which Might Be Sooner Than We Think

Chapter 03

Draco knew the Weasley's only had one daughter, and judging by the girl's appearance, this had to be her. She was wearing old tennis shoes, faded blue jeans, and a shabby black tank-top that had a few threads coming loose here and there. Her dark red hair flowed freely down her back, and she had a piece of parchment in her hands. Draco figured it was probably her school book list, but he didn't ask. He just stared at her, and she stared back. He was shocked to come across someone from school so soon. He hadn't expected to see anyone until he got around the shops, and he certainly hadn't counted on running into one of the Weasleys. After all the hell he'd given Ron Weasley all these years, he had definitely not wanted to run into someone from that family. He was sure to get teased mercilessly now, and he didn't have the energy to defend himself right now. However, the girl didn't say anything. She just stared at him in shock. Obviously, she hadn't counted on running into him, he who had taunted her so much five years ago, and she certainly hadn't expected to run into him when he was in this kind of condition.

After several moments of tense, stunned silence, the girl in front of him spoke, breaking the tension. "So..." she said, hesitating. "You're... Malfoy?"

"Draco," he answered automatically. "And you're... Weasley?"

"Ginny."

"Oh." He nodded shortly, but stopped because it gave him a slight headache. "I... have to go," he said abruptly. "Excuse me."

And he moved past her and headed to the stairs.

~*~

GINNY

"Ugh," Ginny said, going into Room 11 at the Leaky Cauldron, the room that her brother Ron was sharing with his best friend Harry Potter. She shut the door behind her. "Will you please shut that owl up, Ron? I can hear it all the way across the hall! Hermione's trying to help me with that stupid essay I have to finish for History of Magic, and I can't even concentrate."

Ron had been lying on his back on the bed with his head under a pillow when she'd come in, but took the pillow off and looked at her when she spoke. "Sorry, Gin," he answered her. "I've tried everything, and he just won't shut up. I think he's too excited, for some reason. I'm getting ready to take a leaf out of Harry's book and skive off."

"Where is Harry," Ginny asked him, looking around in confusion.

"He went downstairs with Fred and George. They wanted to show him one of their new products. I was trying to take a nap, but I'm about to just give it up."

"I'm glad Fred and George could find someone to keep an eye on the store so they could have the afternoons off while we're here in Diagon Alley. I was worried we weren't going to be able to visit with them or anything, with how busy they've gotten."

A knock on the door sounded, and Ginny turned around to answer it. Opening it, she saw Hermione standing there. "No luck with Pigwidgeon, then, I take it?" she asked, looking past Ginny at Ron. She was looking at Ron with such a sappy-lovey-dovey look on her face that Ginny grimaced. She hadn't been out with many boys - not much luck in that department, surprisingly - and the constant sight of her brother and his girlfriend (who also happened to be one of Ginny's best friends) always in the various throes of their relationship came close to making her ill more than once.

"He won't shut up, no matter what I try," Ron said, exasperatedly. "I give up. I'm going downstairs."

"It's just as well," Hermione said. "Your mother just passed me in the hall and told me it's time to come down for dinner. I told her I'd tell you two."

"Great! I'm starved!" Ron said.

Hermione frowned. "You just ate, like, a few hours ago. How on earth can you be starving?"

"You know my brothers, 'Mione," Ginny said. "If they don't have something to stuff in their faces every few hours or so, they start to get cranky. I've never been one to try to fathom the depths of their stomachs." Ginny was smirking (even Hermione had a slight grin on her face), but Ron glared at her.

"Come on, 'Mione. Let's go downstairs." He took her hand and led her out the door.

Ginny, looking after them, said, "I'll be down in a minute. I just want to put my essay away."

"All right," Hermione said, looking over her shoulder at Ginny. "We'll see you downstairs."

She walked out of the room, too, shutting the door behind her again. She gave it a tap with her wand, after pulling it out of her back pocket (she was glad Mad-Eye Moody wasn't around, or she'd have gotten a real telling-off), and heard the lock click. Then, she proceeded to go across the hall to the room she was sharing with Hermione, Room 12. Going in, she surveyed the objects on the bed - rolls and rolls of crumpled-up parchment, two rolls of parchment still glittering in ink, and a large open book. There was also an opened bottle of ink and a quill on the bedside table. Ginny did a double-take on the essay, which was a bit longer than it had been when Ginny had left the room. She looked at it for a moment longer, before it dawned on her that it was a couple of sentences longer than it had been, and the sentences weren't written in her handwriting (though it was a very close match). Hermione (who could mimic almost anyone's handwriting to a minor fault) must've finished it for her (it wouldn't have been the first time she'd done that for Ginny, if she'd been in a really tough spot). She smiled, realizing (as she did at least once a day) how good of a friend she had.

Ginny went over to the bed, shut the book, and replaced it in her open trunk at the foot of the bed, adding the quill and ink to it. After clearing away the used and crumpled-up pieces of parchment with her wand, she left the room, leaving the essay to dry on the bedspread and locking the door behind her. It would've dried by the time she was done with dinner. She had just put her wand back in the pocket of her jeans, when she heard a door close behind her. Spinning around, she saw a tall, blonde-haired someone turning away from Room 13.

He looked oddly familiar....

Now... where have I seen him before? Ginny thought to herself. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, until he looked up at her. There was no mistaking those steel-grey eyes. Malfoy! But... OH MY GOD what happened to him? But she didn't say any of these things out loud. She elected to keep her internal conversation silent. Goodness knows he was probably nervous enough about venturing out of his room and running into other Hogwarts students with the way he looked, and her making comments or wanting to know what had happened when they hardly knew each other except for their last names, was probably not the best idea. She could register a look of shock on his face, as if she wasn't the first person he had expected to come upon. The only thing she could think to say came tumbling hesitantly out of her mouth a moment later, before she'd even had a chance to think another word.

"So.... You're... Malfoy?"

"Draco," he answered automatically. "And you're... Weasley?"

"Ginny," she answered hurriedly.

"Oh." He nodded his head shortly, but only once. His face got a look on it that clearly said the gesture had hurt. "I... have to go," he said abruptly. "Excuse me."

And he moved past her and headed to the stairs, staying to the side in the shadows, as if praying desperately not to be seen by anyone else, least of all anyone he knew or went to school with.

Ginny stood there, staring after him for what felt like forever. Finally, snapping out of her trance, she headed towards the stairs herself. That's all she needed - her mother to come looking for her, only to find her standing there with her face flushed, and a confused, worried, and dazed look on her face. She was horrified at Draco's condition (for some reason, her mind would not allow her to call him 'Malfoy', even after all he'd done to Ron, Harry, and Hermione over the years). She couldn't even begin to fathom how he had gotten that way, or who had done that to him. And she was willing to bet a thousand Galleons she definitely did not have that she hadn't even seen a hint of his total injuries, judging by the bulges she'd seen around his chest and on his left arm and leg that were most likely bandages. And judging by the fact that his left arm was actually in a sling. She was determined to find out what had happened, if it took her the entire school year.

But the one think she could most definitely not get out of her head - despite his injuries, Draco Malfoy was absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent drop dead gorgeous.