Poisoned

Chapter Ten

Where Draco quarrels with Ginny and makes some difficult choices

Draco managed to take all the Slytherins to the infirmary to help with the wounded that wouldn't stop coming. Since the majority of the healers had died or disappeared in the attack, Dumbledore offered to take some of the most seriously hurt to be treated in Hogwarts. Which explained why the infirmary was completely full, with extra beds and all, and Madam Pomfrey was accepting all the help that was offered, whilst running like crazy from bed to bed, checking on everyone.

When Ginny asked Dumbledore how many had died in the attack he had only responded, "Too many" with a weary look before leaving again to help with the rest of the wounded that still needed to be taken away from St. Mungos and treated somewhere else.

Professor Snape was locked up in his classroom preparing several potions that Draco would collect every half an hour; Professor Sprout was running in and out of the infirmary, bringing more and more plants that could be useful; while Professor Flitwick gave a sort of comic relief to that situation running around the infirmary and jumping up and down in front of the beds, trying to see the patient so he could perform the proper healing spell. Ginny wasn't even paying attention to any of that, but sometimes she would notice Draco across the infirmary, looking as busy as she was.

Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott didn't seem too excited about the idea of staying there, but Draco had convinced them by reminding that if they sat around doing nothing, people could get suspicious, or blame them for being heartless. By helping, even slightly, some would imagine they were as terrorised as the others.

"We don't need to look as terrorised as the others," Nott had said, "soon the Dark Lord will take control and-"

"And until he does, we have to make the teachers and the other students believe we are by their sides. Didn't your father tell you that?"

"So says the boy who's openly refused to pay homage to Cedric Diggory," Nott sang, mockingly, but Draco soon spat, "That was when I was still an idiot. Weren't we all when fourteen?"

That had finished the argument. Crabbe and Goyle were helping to organise the students that were arriving by Floo Powder, since it only required them to point the students out of the room - which Professor McGonagall thought would be safer, - and several other students had been appointed for different tasks.

Draco tried hard not to look too shocked with the situation, but was glad to find Parkinson and Nott looking as distressed as he was feeling. But he knew they couldn't be as distressed as he was, for they didn't look at any of those wounded wizards thinking they shared the guilt for what happened. They hadn't realised that the damage had also been caused by them.

Time went by slowly, helping to increase the agony they were all feeling. Draco couldn't tell what had happened. He hadn't even looked closely at those people; he had just followed the orders Madam Pomfrey would give. He couldn't say if he had treated a bleeding nose, a broken ankle or a victim of an Unforgivable, he felt like he was in some sort of trance and was glad for it.

Ginny, on the other hand, knew exactly what was surrounding her, and it frightened her. Especially when she saw so many familiar faces among the injured, and felt there was not much she could do for them. She felt so helpless and when she saw Neville lying in one of the beds, staring at the ceiling with the blank expression of someone who had lost awareness of the world, she didn't try to fight back her tears. She had let them run down her face freely and took a long time until Professor Flitwick managed to comfort her.

Only when everything was under control and Madam Pomfrey realised they had already provided the most essential care to the patients, that she asked the students to leave. Well, more like told them off hastily, but they were all so tired it didn't occur to them to volunteer to stay there any longer. Ginny didn't wait one more second; she hurried away from the infirmary, crying again and feeling the nausea she had tried to suppress coming back with full force.

She ran inside the girl's bathroom, not realising Draco was close behind. He waited for a few minutes but she didn't exit, so he carefully looked around to see if anybody was looking and entered, to find Ginny leaning on a sink, sobbing. He stepped closer, but stopped a few footsteps behind her.

She couldn't tell how she knew it was him, since she never looked away from the sink, but she knew. Taking long deep breaths to try to control herself, she exclaimed, not daring to look at his face, "I just can't be a healer!"

"You don't have to be one," Draco said trying to comfort her, confused by her distress.

Ginny closed her eyes and turned to him, imagining how her mother would be disappointed. "Mum will just have to get used to it."

Draco didn't know what to say, so he just stood there looking at her. She was so pale he was afraid she would faint at any moment, but she continued, "I'd rather treat dragons like Charlie. Or deal with goblins like Bill."

"They are nasty, distrustful creatures, the goblins," Draco stated.

"Bill respects them!" she snapped so firmly he had the feeling that Bill was her favourite brother.

"He must be a remarkable wizard to deal with them."

It seemed to calm her down a bit, and a gentle smile appeared in her face. "Yes, he is."

Then she remembered the entire situation, and she couldn't stop feeling angry with Draco. "What were you doing in the infirmary, by the way?" He didn't answer, so she continued, "Trying to soothe your conscience, is that it?"

"That too," he confessed. "But I think it had more to do with impressing a girl and asking her to forgive me."

"I'm not the one that should forgive you." She wouldn't let him know she was touched by his words. "You should ask the ones that died. Or ask Neville for forgiveness. Did you see him? Did you see what they did to him?"

She wanted to continue more forcefully, but he looked so heart-broken she couldn't bring herself to it. He was suffering as well, but somehow it wasn't enough for Ginny. "You are as guilty as the ones that attacked them!"

"Look, I'm trying as hard as I can, alright?" Draco got tired of being blamed by someone else. He blamed himself enough. "I'm working as hard as I can to grow as far from my father as possible. But I can't do anything else now. I don't have the means-"

"Of course you have the means! You knew about today - if you had told Dumbledore, he could have prepared something at the last minute, and-" She was so angry she couldn't think properly. "I don't know; he could have done something! But you just thought about how safe you would be!"

"Oh I get it now - you don't blame me for what I do or don't do, you blame me for being a Slytherin and acting like one! Well, too bad, because that's what I am, and if I ever have to choose between saving my own neck and putting it at risk, I'll save it without a second thought!"

They both stood there, panting as if they had run several miles and looking at each other as if they were ready to attack. But Draco sighed and stepped back, speaking in a calmer tone, "You could learn something from me. I'll try, I promise I'll try to put others before me next time, but you could stop thinking about saving the world."

"I don't have any illusions about saving the world," she sounded so tired now. "I just think we can make it better."

"But not by risking ourselves," he tried to reason. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. You don't think things over, you just think about doing the right thing, and sometimes the right thing is not so right."

"I think about fighting evil."

"I wish I saw the world as black and white as you do!" Draco exclaimed without raising his voice.

"It's not about seeing things black and white!" They were quarrelling again. "You-Know-Who is evil, and that's the plain truth."

"Yes, so that's why you followed Harry to the Ministry last year, to fight evil."

"Yes," she said, wondering what he knew about that. "I followed because Harry was doing what was right."

"And by doing what you all thought was right, he did exactly what You-Know-Who wanted of him and got his godfather killed," Draco stated, and it seemed like he had stunned her. She stood petrified, her eyes widened, looking as if something painful had hit her. "So just think about what I'm saying. I just want you to stop being so reckless! Put yourself in my shoes and understand how difficult it is for me!"

"Why is it difficult?" she asked, tired and in disbelief. "Why do you care?"

"I don't know." He shook his head as if to shake away a bad thought. "I'm still trying to cope with the idea of caring for you so much." He looked desolated. "I'm not used to it."

It seemed he had said the most shameful thing, and he left so harshly Ginny couldn't help but stand there trying to organise her thoughts and put some sense into an argument that didn't seem to have any sense at all.

* * * * *

As soon as she passed through the Fat Lady's portrait, Ginny saw Ron among the crowd of Gryffindors talking in the common room and ran to hug him tightly, not caring about his surprise or his complaints about needing to breath. "I was so afraid you'd be hurt."

"Why would I be?" Ron had succumbed and held her back. "We were safe in the Burrow and didn't know anything until Bill and Dad were called."

Harry sighed. "We didn't know until it was too late. The Death Eaters used Anti-Disapparation spells, so no one could escape to warn anyone outside."

"Where were you, by the way?" Ron asked while Ginny hugged Hermione.

"In the infirmary, helping Madam Pomfrey with the wounded. There wasn't much we could do, but we helped the best way we could."

"We?" Hermione asked.

"Professor Flitwick was there too and there were more students, like Draco-" Ginny answered, but soon realised she should add, "Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was there."

None of them seemed to realise her slip, and Hermione continued, "Why would Malfoy bother to help?"

"Maybe he was posing as the good boy," Ron guessed, sitting beside Harry and Hermione by the fireplace.

"It could be," Hermione pondered, but soon dropped the subject. "Did you see anyone we know?"

"Some students I don't know very well, all with minor injuries," Ginny answered. "And Neville."

"How is he?" Harry asked, alarmed.

"I don't know. It seems they used an Unforgivable on him." Hermione shrieked, but Ginny continued, "He just stares at the ceiling blankly, oblivious to anything around him. Madam Pomfrey and Professor Flitwick are doing everything they can, but we don't know when he'll be better."

"Oh that's awful!" Hermione exclaimed. "Can you imagine if they used the same curse that drove his parents mad?"

"His grandmother was worried about that, too. I heard Dumbledore instructing Madam Pomfrey to report about his condition every half an hour so she would not worry so much for not being with him. Apparently she wasn't so badly injured, because they never brought her."

"Who was brought here?" Harry asked.

"Only the students and the most seriously wounded." Ginny told them all she knew from paying close attention to the headmaster's talks with the teachers and the healer. "Dumbledore convinced the parents that Hogwarts would be the safest place for their children to be and that if they came along we wouldn't have enough room and wouldn't be able to take care of any of them properly. It took him some time, but he managed to do it."

"Mum was furious and sent us here fast so she could go and help as well." Ron explained. "But she was sure Dumbledore would deal with the situation in the best way possible."

Nothing else was said, and they stayed in silence, each one lost in thoughts. Ginny could see that the Muggle-borns hadn't arrived yet, but even still there were a lot of students there, and she felt like Christmas had never happened.

"I was happier out there, though they said it was not safe," Harry said, breaking the silence. "At least there we knew what was going on."

Ginny couldn't help but understand exactly what Harry meant, except that she was happier that morning, before she knew that anything would happen and before she discovered so much about Malfoy. She made a promise to herself she would not talk to him again, but somehow she knew she wouldn't really compromise to it. It was difficult to understand his actions, but she couldn't imagine her life without Draco anymore, and she wondered if things would ever go back to being simple again.

* * * * *

It was very late at night and Draco had been waiting in the headmaster's office for hours now. The portraits had all stopped pretending they were asleep and sometimes they would advise, "He won't come back very soon, you know."

"He has a lot to do today, he won't have time for you."

"You should come back tomorrow."

"I can't wait until tomorrow," Draco snapped, angrily, wishing all of them would go back to pretend to sleep again.

"Why not?" the painting called Armando Dippet asked. "Do you think your problems are more important than what happened today?"

Draco stared at the phoenix that eyed him with interest and then answered, "Honestly, yes."

The portraits all blinked, amazed with his answer. One said, "This boy must be in Slytherin, to be so selfish."

Another portrait, this one called Phineas Nigellus, stated, "I don't think so. We Slytherins have more tact than him."

"Look who talks about tact," a witch muttered, but Nigellus never had a chance to answer back, for Dumbledore entered the office that moment, looking tired and discouraged.

Draco stood up quickly and would have spoken immediately, but he was so shocked by the headmaster's expression he lost his words and his heart failed a beat; if Dumbledore looked discouraged, who would they turn to when extreme situations happened? But as soon as he saw a blink of curiosity in his eyes, Draco felt his courage come back. He felt like he could do something; he could give back some hope to the old man.

"Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore started, since Draco wouldn't say anything, "I trust you have a very important reason to be here."

"Yes," the boy muttered and took a deep breath before saying, "I want to know what I can do to help."

"You've helped enough this afternoon."

"Not this kind of help, Professor," he said through the gasps of surprise from the portraits, but Dumbledore seemed to know what he was talking about.

"Take a seat, Mister Malfoy," he said while sitting down himself. "If this is the case, there's much we need to talk about."