The guy took one look at Draco's six foot physique and toned muscles and ran.
"Draco?" Ginny asked blearily.
Forgetting that he always called her Weasley or Weaslette, he said, "Ginny, what are you doing here? It's not safe for you."
"I've got to ...gotta drink away the pain. Hurts so much." She blinked rapidly. "You have very pretty eyes Malfoy."
He ignored the compliment. She was not in her right senses if she was talking about how pretty his eyes were.
"They're so beautiful. Like molten silver. Only with...only with more colours..."
He motioned to the bartender.
"Swirling...the pain...hand cut."
"How many drinks have she has?"
"I don't know," said the bartender, "she does this every single time."
"Every single time?" echoed Draco.
"I was cutting...my finger..." Ginny was saying
"Yeah, comes here once a year, no time else, drinks and her friends have to take her away. Something must have happened on this day. Poor girl."
"Thank you." Turning to Ginny, he told her, "Let's go."
At this point in time she was saying, "The wedding...bridesmaid...slept..."
"What? Ginny?" Ginny is married?
"Draco, just take me away. Away from the pain. The hurt..."
"Alright," he put one arm around her waist, supporting her weight. "Where's your flat?"
"Flat? He left me flat, Malfoy. Left me..."
Draco muttered to himself. "I guess you don't remember. I'll just take you to my flat." He groaned. "I hope your brothers don't find out about this."
He was practically dragging her along the streets, not trusting her ability to hold on to him if he apparated, when he decided that carrying her would be easier. He swept her up in his arms, one arm around her waist and one under her thighs.
She buried her face in his jumper and sighed.
"Malfoy?"
"That's me."
"Just hold me."
Draco was silent. Finally reaching the building where his flat was, he walked up three flights of steps. At this point in time Ginny was fast asleep, exhausted from grief and alcohol.
"Where to put you?" he mused. "I'm too much of a gentleman to let you sleep on the sofa."
He placed her on the bed and turned to leave when he heard a soft voice call, "Malfoy?"
"Yeah?"
"Why?"
"Why help you?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know." That was the truth. "But I have no clue why you're acting this way."
She was drifting off into dreamland again, her eyelids drooping. "That would be because of," and Draco had to crane to hear the last two words, "Seamus Finnigan." Her hand unclasped and a crumpled picture fell out of it.
Draco didn't go to sleep for a long time. He was sitting on the floor, back against the side of his bed. He had taken the picture from Ginny and studied it. In the photo the sandy haired boy was holding Ginny around the waist, their noses touching, eyes on each other. They were enamoured with each other. Seamus Finnigan, the reason for all her sadness and anger? But then he remembered something about five years ago...
Ginny was walking to the Entrance Hall, holding Seamus' hand as she giggled at something he had said. They were enjoying their last few days at Hogwarts, free of exams and classes.
"I'll wait for you, you know that, right?" Seamus was saying.
"Of course." She kissed his cheek and blushed.
Draco was walking up from the grounds and saw the couple. He couldn't resist poking fun at Ginny. "Hey little Weasley, finally found someone to replace Potter now, is it?"
He smirked at their indignant faces. "Of course, it wasn't as if you found someone much better than Saint Potter." He mocked thinking thoughtfully. "The only way you'd find someone better would be to date a real Pureblood. Dating is no picnic, you know."
At those last words, Ginny frowned and a shadow came over her face. But she smiled brightly up at Seamus when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to steer her away from Draco.
He turned to the sleeping Ginny. He hadn't realized that she looked so worn out and pale, so fragile and small, lying there under his covers. It seemed damn near impossible that this was the Ginny he had been working with the last month or so. Mostly though, she looked vulnerable and utterly pitiful, with tearstains still present on her face.
Draco was nodding off to sleep on the too small sofa when he heard a cry. He ran into the bedroom and saw Ginny thrashing around in the bed. She was sweating and moaning, "No, you couldn't have done that...why did you?"
She must be having a nightmare. For some reason, he felt protective of Ginny. What was she dreaming about? It must have to do with Seamus Finnigan. What did he do to hurt Ginny so badly? She had mentioned a wedding and a bridesmaid in her drunken stupor. But weddings always had bridesmaids...
Draco didn't want to think further. He knew he was just there, at the end of the mystery, but Ginny was still scared, lost in herself. He climbed into the bed and held her.
She quieted almost immediately and turned subconsciously toward the heat of Draco, snuggling into his warmth. She murmured, "Fresh, forestry kind of smell, sandalwood." She sighed contentedly.
Draco however, was wondering what he was doing, holding her in his arms, in his bed. It seemed that he did it without thinking about any other solution. But he remembered something...
"Mummy, mummy!"
"Leave the boy alone, Narcissa."
"But Lucius, he's scared and he's only two."
"Leave him alone." Lucius' voice dared Narcissa to argue.
"I'm going to him." She swept by Lucius, ignoring his angered face at her disobedience, knowing that she would pay for it later that night.
Walking down the long hallways that seemed endless, she finally reached one particular room. She immediately rushed to the little blond haired boy crying in bed.
"Did you have a nightmare darling?" When he nodded tearfully, his tears drying up already at the sight of his mother, "It's alright Drakie, mummy's here."
She crawled into bed and rocked him, soothing whatever that had frightened him. Soon Draco was fast asleep and Narcissa was smiling knowingly. It wasn't before long that she left and little Draco had no idea she was gone, only dreaming sweet dreams.
Draco, holding Ginny, drifted off into sleep with his cheek pressed against her hair, smelling a faint lavender scent that wafted from the girl he was embracing.
_._._._._._._
"Hey, Draco?"
When there was no answer, Blaise was surprised. Draco was usually up by now, even though sane people weren't. He wandered through the flat, taking in the clean wooden floors and furniture, everything in its proper place, immaculate. Just like Draco, always in control of his life.
Blaise always said Draco was slightly paranoid. But it made sense, considering what he had gone through with his father. His flat was charmed against any sort of alohomora charm or apparition both inside the flat and the landing outside. Blaise had a key, but he always had to walk up those endless steps.
He made his way to the bedroom, still calling Draco's name. He was a bit miffed that Draco wasn't responding to his calls. Draco was a light sleeper and the slightest noise would wake him. Unless he had gone out partying or something, there shouldn't be any reason why Draco was conked out like a rock.
Then he went into the bedroom.
"Oh my God." It took several seconds to digest the scene that lay before him. Draco lay with some red haired girl in his bed, his arm around her waist, her head against his chest. Blaise couldn't see her face but nevertheless he was extremely surprised. If one believed the tabloids, one would expect it would be like this every night, a woman in his bed, but Blaise knew Draco. Draco never slept with a girl unless he wanted to, and it was never just a mindless affair. He also had never dated two girls at once, despite his reputation with the infamous Parkinson scandal.
Draco and Blaise were too good of friends for Draco to find a girl and not mention it too him. Of course Draco had been busy at work lately but he still made time for Blaise. All that Blaise knew that someone was helping him to find a woman, but Draco still hadn't found one up to his standards.
Blaise was wondering what Draco was doing sleeping around when he had a bride to find when Draco shifted in his sleep and kicked the covers away slightly to reveal that he still had clothes one. This surprised Blaise more. Draco was never one for intimacy like that. Underneath the icy exterior he was passionate, yes, and careful, always very careful. Why would he let a girl simply sleep in his bed and do nothing else? This was strange and uncharacteristic of him.
He would have to talk to Draco later, he decided as he walked out of Draco's flat. But he couldn't help thinking that Draco was too cold, too in control of him, too stoic to be able to experience that love that he was always talking about. Sometimes he wondered if Draco would ever find his match.
Ginny was surrounded in warmth.
Her nose was filled with a spicy, wonderful scent. She rubbed her nose against whatever she was pressed up against, and suddenly she opened her eyes.
"Malfoy?" She practically yelled.
She felt him groan as she tried to struggle out of his arms. What in Merlin's name was she doing here? This wasn't her flat either. His eyes opened and for a split second she was caught with those still sleepy half opened eyes. Eyes that took her breath away. Then she remembered what she had been doing the night before.
All that she could remember was drinking the muggle alcohol, feeling it burn into her throat and stomach, trying to wash away the pain. Then there was a knight in shining armour, or were that just his eyes? Those swirling silver eyes.
"Gin— I mean, Weasley. Are you alright?"
"What happened?" She asked groggily.
"I found you at a muggle bar. Lucky I did too." He knew he needed to get up to give her a sobering potion now that she was awake, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to break the moment. He looked at Ginny, bathed in the morning sunlight. True, she didn't look her best, with tearstains still visible on her face and the dark circles on her eyes, and that hair still in that blasted bun, but she was real. More real than any other girl. She looked solid there, just there.
He quickly got up and out of the bed, heading for the cabinet in his bathroom where he kept potions like that. He returned a few minutes later with a small vial filled with a colourless liquid.
"Here," he said, handing her the vial, "Sobering Potion."
As she drank it, he continued, "And I want to know why you were getting so pissed yesterday." She choked. "I think I have a right to do so. And I know it has something to do with this guy, Seamus Finnigan." He held up the crumpled photo.
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