This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
I hope this isn't too confusing. I went through it (like I did with the last chapter) and corrected a few spelling/grammar mistakes and changed a couple things. Nothing major, really, just a double check.
Ginny held her hands out in front of her, studying them. At least that is what it would look like to nearly everybody. Those who knew better pretended otherwise.
Hands were amazing things. So much was done with them that could not be done with anything else. It was amazing how much people took advantage of them.
Next she moved to her feet. She held them out in front of her, her toes pointed towards the door. She soon decided, though, that she didn't like feet as much, and moved back to studying her hands.
She saw them, but also didn't as the door across from her opened up.
Draco, having just entered St. Mungo's, stopped in front of the desk. The receptionist behind it looked bored, and uninterested in her job. "How can I help you?" she asked.
"I've come to see Ginny Weasley."
"Fourth floor. The lady up there can tell you the room number," she said, still not looking up as her eyes traveled over the out of date copy of Witch Weekly she held in front of her face.
"Thank-you," Draco said, making his way to the floor.
As the first receptionist had said, a desk was off to the side of the entrance with another lady sitting behind it. She didn't seem so bored, and was, in fact, talking animatedly to a healer.
"Excuse me," he said as he got to the desk. The lady looked up, and the healer hurriedly left, seeming glad that the lady (whose nametag read Celia) had gotten distracted by someone else. "The lady downstairs said you could tell me where Ginny Weasley's room."
"Ah, Ginny, yes. Very quiet, very nice. Great patient, she is, I have heard. Cooperates well. Of course, there was that one time where she threw the plant. No, that wasn't so good. I warned Mitch that some patients did not like plants. Well, she seemed to like it just didn't care for it. Threw it across the room where it hit the wall and shattered into a million pieces. Poor plant never had a chance," she continued to talk away for a moment about Mitch, who from what Draco caught was a man who came by regularly trying to cheer up patients whether they wanted the company or not.
Getting impatient, the blonde finally interrupted, "Can you just tell me where she is?"
"Oh, yes, of course. Ward 49. Room 412. She got her own room, she did. Ran out of space in the other one. Poor girl must get lonely in there. Here, I'll get someone to show you," she said pretty much all in one breath. She snapped her fingers at a passing Healer. Looking slightly annoyed, the bright robed lady turned.
"Yes?" she asked, sounding annoyed but polite at the same time.
"Show this boy here to Room 412. Come to visit the Weasley girl, he has."
"Come on," the newest lady said, more politely to him than she had been to the receptionist. "It's just over here." When they got out of hearing range of the receptionist, she said, "Sorry about that. Celia tends to talk more than is good of her. You have to be really careful about what you say around her, too. Uses anything against you, she does. Here you go," she said, when they came a door that had the number 412 on it. "If you need anything just call for Marnia. I'll come. I don't have much to do right now anyways."
"Thank-you," he said, for what felt like the tenth time that day. When Marnia got out of view, Draco quietly pushed the door open, almost scared of what he would see.
Of course, he saw nothing but Ginny. She hadn't changed a bit, except for having a vacant look in her eyes, and a still red scar above her right eye. She sat on the bed cross-legged with her hands held out in front of her like they were the most fascinating things in the world.
He closed the door gently behind him, and Ginny never looked up. She had stopped looking at her hands by the time he sat down in the empty chair beside her, and instead was now leaning on the back of the bed staring across at the opposite wall.
Draco took the time to look around the room before saying anything. Pictures of her family and friends were pasted randomly all over the walls, along with a calendar. Her neat writing was on certain dates, where she had written numbers and letters. He wondered if they meant something, or if there were just random writings of someone who was considered insane.
"Hello," she said suddenly. He looked over at her, and she wasn't looking at him, but at the wall to her left now, away from him on her right.
Draco didn't reply, just watched her as she bit her bottom lip and turned towards him. He could tell he didn't recognize him just by how she stared at him.
"What is your name?" she asked quietly, almost carefully.
"Draco Malfoy," he replied.
Something seemed to register for her, though it didn't last long. She didn't say anything else, either, but turned back to the wall.
Ginny barely noticed herself talking to whomever it was sitting on the chair by her bed. She noticed that her room was eerily white and unnatural. She noticed that memories continued to swim in her head as if they were fish and her mind was one huge ocean. She didn't notice herself ignoring the stranger beside her. Well, at least she thought it was a stranger. The name he had said, she forgot it now, had seemed familiar. It had made her feel special. She had liked the name. But she couldn't remember it.
Ginny staggered as she tripped over a branch protruding from the forest floor. She clutched her wand tightly in her hand, ready for anything that might pop out from behind a shadowy tree or a hole in the ground.
She couldn't tell you how she got there. Somehow she had gotten lost during the short walk from point A to point B. She knew the lands inside out, and was sure this wasn't part of them. But, obviously it was, having landed here.
Her wand still tightly held in her right hand, she spun around at the sound of a crack behind her. She opened her mouth to yell at whomever it was to come out, but not one word proceeded to come into open air.
Distracted by the sound behind her, she hadn't heard the ones in front of her, and had let someone sneak up on her. She swore inwardly at her stupid behavior. These were bad times to make a single mistake. Anyone could turn on you, and you could end up dead in an instant. With the rise of Voldemort and his Deatheaters, you had to be careful where you tread.
She bit at the hand that was clamped over her mouth, but the person held on firmly. She didn't remember what happened next. It was a wild blur of her struggling to get away, spells fired, and then blackness.
Draco watched as her eyes went wide and afraid looking. He knew better than to ask her what was wrong, since she looked far past being gone. Something was replaying in her minds eye, as Trelawney might have said. He preferred to call it her brain, but 'minds eye' was rather catchy.
He had the strongest impulse to shake her from her stupor, and ask he why everything had happened. 'Why?' was the one question that had been on his mind from the moment the Minister had spoken to him.
"Did you know a pogrebin comes from Russia?" she asked suddenly. "It pretends to be a rock, and then follows a passerby around. When the person feels so hopeless that they fall over, he tries eats the person."
"No, I didn't know that," Draco replied uncertainly. Where had that come from?
"You wouldn't want to meet one of them, would you?" she smiled to herself, as if she had a secret that no one knew.
"Um, no, you wouldn't."
Ginny followed a Deatheater down a dark hall. She had fast learned it was easier to comply than fight. Besides, she felt so tired in every way (most likely because of some sort of potion or spell) that she didn't think she could fight at all if she had needed to.
She was led to a bedroom. It was actually quite nice for a room that was meant for a prisoner. It held no windows, and the only door was quickly locked after her as soon as she entered. A bathtub sat in one corner, with a dressing curtain to go around it. It was full and steaming, and after an hour she learned it was charmed to stay that way forever.
A sink was near the bathtub, with a hair brush and any other things she might need. There was a small cupboard like room that held a toilet, also.
The room was decorated richly, and after trying to throw a plant against the wall in frustration, she learned that nothing in it could break. After a couple hours of walking around, refusing to surrender to the seemingly kindness of the Dark Lord, she finally slumped onto the bed, exhausted.
Ginny remembered when she had thrown the plant that the man brought in. She had been curious if it, unlike the one in the room that had held her captive, would break. It had. She found it amusing, and now also hated any plant that was in a vase or planter.
Draco watched as she gripped the blankets on the bed. He didn't know why, but it was because she was struggling to keep the memories in order. They wanted to all arrive at once, pushing their way to the front like an impatient group of six year olds. She wanted a story out of it. She wanted to have it make sense, and go in an order so she could figure out what had happened to her.
Ginny thought, with the small part of her brain that wasn't wrapped up in this insanity, that if she could sort everything out, she might be able to get better. She might be able to pull out of this deep stupor she had put herself in to get away from the pain of losing him and watching how she could possibly lose everyone else if she could just sort everything out.
It would take time, but she knew this would end. It would have to. But for the moment, she was content with it. She could survive it, however far it pulled her, and however long it took.