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Duty, to Ginevra Weasley, sounded like men coughing up blood, women uttering cries of pain and children crying. Ginny Weasley was a Healer and her duty was to save people’s lives. Ginny didn’t quite remember when she decided to become a Healer and, really, there was no one moment in time. She had no story from her youth where a particularly kind Healer held her hand while her bones were re-grown or watched her while she slept off a concussion. She certainly had no desire to emulate Madam Pomfrey and was actually rather scared of the stiff hospital matron.
Ginny became a Healer for the simple reason that she had lived during wartime and during wartime people died and got hurt. She had wanted to help and since her family would not allow her to fight, she was left with many a resourceful woman’s answer to war: healing.
So Ginny left Hogwarts and studied to become a Healer. It wasn’t difficult, hospitals were begging for men and women who would work to save the lives that others had tried to take. Ginny gained a position at St Mungo’s Hospital, and soon, with her cheerful disposition and no-nonsense attitude, came to the attention of the Head Healer.
The Head Healer, Madam Cuttler, was a resourceful woman and as she liked to say, ‘a witch of a mature age.’ She was also attentive to her staff’s and patients' needs and she had found a use for Ginny. Ginny was to be placed in charge of the Moribund Wing. This was a new addition to the Hospital and had been built to deal with the small number of Death Eaters who, though captured by the Ministry, had some form of life-threatening injury and could not be placed in Azkaban straight away.
Ginny Weasley was actually rather surprised at being placed in charge of this small but infamous wing. She was, after all, the sister, daughter and ex-girlfriend of some of the main leaders in the fight against Voldemort. One could presume, therefore, that she would be rather biased against the Death Eaters that came under her care. The question of the safety of these Death Eaters in Ms Weasley’s hands was put to Madam Cuttler by the Hospital’s Board of Directors. Could she be trusted, they inquired? After all, many of the Death Eater patients had been placed in the wing by relatives or friends of Ginny. Would she be inclined to finish the job that they had failed at? Madam Cuttler had defended Ginny’s new post to the Board rather forcefully. ‘Ginny Weasley has a very rare trait,’ Madam Cuttler had declared. ‘She loves people. She honestly loves people. She may not like them all but she has the deepest sense of compassion of anyone I have ever met. She will not harm these people.’ And she was right; Ginny could have no more hurt her own mother than kill any of the already half-dead Death Eaters. Ginny’s role, unlike most of her relatives, was to save lives, and she took that duty very seriously.
So this series of events led to Ginny being awake at 2:30 on a frosty January morning. An attack had just been launched by the Order and that meant that Ginny was now occupied with an influx of injured Death Eaters. When Ginny’s family met Voldemort’s followers, they were dressed in full black cloaks and masks. They exuded power and instilled fear. But when they came to Ginny, they were little more than children – scared, harmless children. Ginny could do nothing except pity them for the choices they had made which led them to her.
Ginny watched a motley group of overworked Healers and stressed Order members lay the Death Eaters down on the beds. Ron came up to her and, as was usual lately, he looked tired and overworked. When had those circles appeared under his eyes, she wondered. He was only twenty-six and he looked like he had lived a lifetime. She supposed he had. War makes everyone grow up fast.
‘Ginny, we got the Malfoys. It will be a big blow to old Voldie and, besides that, it felt damn good taking Draco down. It was almost like payback for all those taunts at Hogwarts,’ said Ron as his face, for the first time in a long while, lit up with almost childlike happiness.
Ginny shuddered but, apart from that small slip, held herself with vice-like control. Nobody could know. She just nodded at Ron’s words and went to help try to save Narcissa Malfoy’s life.
Ginny waited until all the other Healers and Order members were gone. She knew that none of the Death Eaters from tonight’s raid could be saved. Their injuries were too severe and death would follow. For some, it would be a matter of days. For others, it was more likely that they had hours or minutes left. And some, like Narcissa Malfoy and her husband, were already gone. There was nothing more Ginny could do for any of them, except perhaps pray. But there was something she could do for herself.
Ginny went and stood at the base of Draco Malfoy’s bed. He was asleep. It was the type of sleep which a trained physician, such as Ginny, knew he would never wake from. Ginny had always liked to watch Draco sleep. His relaxed form and the peace on his face reminded her of the days before the war when she had been young and perhaps a little foolhardy. The days when she had secretly dated Draco Malfoy. There – she had let herself think it. Ginny had never told anyone about her clandestine relationship with the Malfoy heir and had barely let herself think about it during the intervening years.
It had taken place during his seventh and her sixth year. They had started flirting during Quidditch matches and, from there, had developed a loving, if slightly weird, relationship. They had met regularly in irregular places. The stands behind the Quidditch field, the Hospital wing or the library had all been frequented by them. There was no nook or cranny in Hogwarts in which Draco and Ginny hadn’t met to explore each other. But they hadn’t just explored each other’s bodies. Draco’s thoughts and feelings on almost every subject under the sun had once been known to Ginny. He had told her about the pressure he was under from his parents – and Voldemort himself – to finally take the Dark Mark. And yet, he hadn’t. Not then, anyway. They had discussed politics, religion and all sorts of things they had considered important and weighty matters.
He had made her think in a way that she had never been encouraged to before. Ginny’s family, however amiable, had never wanted their only daughter to get involved in politics or actually form an opinion other than ‘Voldemort is bad’. He had made her laugh as well. She would walk away from their meetings chuckling aloud until someone asked her what was so damn funny. She had thought she loved him, with a capital L. The sort of love that goes beyond political barriers and formed lives filled with happiness and, she had hoped, children. She had imagined a beautiful house, not as grand as Draco’s and not as lopsided as hers, with little grey-eyed, red-headed children.
In preparation for this idealistic life, Ginny had given Draco her virginity. Looking back on it, it seemed romantic and foolhardy. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to regret the impulsive decision and the sweaty, beautiful couple of hours which had followed. He had slept afterwards, she remembered, looking much as he did now. He was still beautiful. Whatever trials and tribulations he had endured since their separation, nothing had stripped him of that fabulous physique or arrogant half-smile.
Ginny allowed herself a sigh as she did what she had wanted to do since the moment Ron had told her Draco was here. She took off her St Mungo’s-issued nightgown and lay down in Draco’s bed, curling around him until her breasts were pushed firmly against his back. He felt slightly different; his body had obviously grown since their last encounter. The boy she had loved had turned into a man.
Ginny rested her head on the unconscious Draco’s back. He had held her the last time they had met, rather like she was now holding him. They had made love in his, for once, deserted dormitory. He had held her afterwards, kissing her neck and shoulders. Then he had told her the news that would wreck her planned world and change her life forever. He was getting the Dark Mark. She had sobbed and begged him to change his mind, to run away with her and join the Order. He had refused. He had pulled her into his arms while she had cried herself dry for him. Then she had become angry. Obviously, his duty to his parents was more important than his love for her. Ginny had screamed unspeakable things at him. She knew they hurt him. She, who knew all of his secrets, used them against him to cause him as much pain as he had caused her. In response, he shattered her heart and told her that he had never loved her and had used her for a ‘quick fuck’. That vulgarity coming from the lips which not so long ago had caressed her, caused Ginny to leave him, vowing that she would never shed a single tear for him again.
And here he was, lying in her ward. She could not save him. He would die before morning. There was nothing Ginny could do to save the boy she had loved, who had turned into a man that she knew she still loved. And so Ginny spent Draco’s last night with her arms around his body, crying tears she had sworn never to release, feeling emotions she had hoped were gone. Just before dawn, Draco’s eyes opened briefly. He looked at her and she knew that he really saw her. He smiled and then his eyes fluttered closed. He was gone. Ginny eased her way out of their bed, his death bed, and replaced her nightgown. She brushed the tears from her eyes and went to organise Draco’s burial. Duty called.
Ginny became a Healer for the simple reason that she had lived during wartime and during wartime people died and got hurt. She had wanted to help and since her family would not allow her to fight, she was left with many a resourceful woman’s answer to war: healing.
So Ginny left Hogwarts and studied to become a Healer. It wasn’t difficult, hospitals were begging for men and women who would work to save the lives that others had tried to take. Ginny gained a position at St Mungo’s Hospital, and soon, with her cheerful disposition and no-nonsense attitude, came to the attention of the Head Healer.
The Head Healer, Madam Cuttler, was a resourceful woman and as she liked to say, ‘a witch of a mature age.’ She was also attentive to her staff’s and patients' needs and she had found a use for Ginny. Ginny was to be placed in charge of the Moribund Wing. This was a new addition to the Hospital and had been built to deal with the small number of Death Eaters who, though captured by the Ministry, had some form of life-threatening injury and could not be placed in Azkaban straight away.
Ginny Weasley was actually rather surprised at being placed in charge of this small but infamous wing. She was, after all, the sister, daughter and ex-girlfriend of some of the main leaders in the fight against Voldemort. One could presume, therefore, that she would be rather biased against the Death Eaters that came under her care. The question of the safety of these Death Eaters in Ms Weasley’s hands was put to Madam Cuttler by the Hospital’s Board of Directors. Could she be trusted, they inquired? After all, many of the Death Eater patients had been placed in the wing by relatives or friends of Ginny. Would she be inclined to finish the job that they had failed at? Madam Cuttler had defended Ginny’s new post to the Board rather forcefully. ‘Ginny Weasley has a very rare trait,’ Madam Cuttler had declared. ‘She loves people. She honestly loves people. She may not like them all but she has the deepest sense of compassion of anyone I have ever met. She will not harm these people.’ And she was right; Ginny could have no more hurt her own mother than kill any of the already half-dead Death Eaters. Ginny’s role, unlike most of her relatives, was to save lives, and she took that duty very seriously.
So this series of events led to Ginny being awake at 2:30 on a frosty January morning. An attack had just been launched by the Order and that meant that Ginny was now occupied with an influx of injured Death Eaters. When Ginny’s family met Voldemort’s followers, they were dressed in full black cloaks and masks. They exuded power and instilled fear. But when they came to Ginny, they were little more than children – scared, harmless children. Ginny could do nothing except pity them for the choices they had made which led them to her.
Ginny watched a motley group of overworked Healers and stressed Order members lay the Death Eaters down on the beds. Ron came up to her and, as was usual lately, he looked tired and overworked. When had those circles appeared under his eyes, she wondered. He was only twenty-six and he looked like he had lived a lifetime. She supposed he had. War makes everyone grow up fast.
‘Ginny, we got the Malfoys. It will be a big blow to old Voldie and, besides that, it felt damn good taking Draco down. It was almost like payback for all those taunts at Hogwarts,’ said Ron as his face, for the first time in a long while, lit up with almost childlike happiness.
Ginny shuddered but, apart from that small slip, held herself with vice-like control. Nobody could know. She just nodded at Ron’s words and went to help try to save Narcissa Malfoy’s life.
Ginny waited until all the other Healers and Order members were gone. She knew that none of the Death Eaters from tonight’s raid could be saved. Their injuries were too severe and death would follow. For some, it would be a matter of days. For others, it was more likely that they had hours or minutes left. And some, like Narcissa Malfoy and her husband, were already gone. There was nothing more Ginny could do for any of them, except perhaps pray. But there was something she could do for herself.
Ginny went and stood at the base of Draco Malfoy’s bed. He was asleep. It was the type of sleep which a trained physician, such as Ginny, knew he would never wake from. Ginny had always liked to watch Draco sleep. His relaxed form and the peace on his face reminded her of the days before the war when she had been young and perhaps a little foolhardy. The days when she had secretly dated Draco Malfoy. There – she had let herself think it. Ginny had never told anyone about her clandestine relationship with the Malfoy heir and had barely let herself think about it during the intervening years.
It had taken place during his seventh and her sixth year. They had started flirting during Quidditch matches and, from there, had developed a loving, if slightly weird, relationship. They had met regularly in irregular places. The stands behind the Quidditch field, the Hospital wing or the library had all been frequented by them. There was no nook or cranny in Hogwarts in which Draco and Ginny hadn’t met to explore each other. But they hadn’t just explored each other’s bodies. Draco’s thoughts and feelings on almost every subject under the sun had once been known to Ginny. He had told her about the pressure he was under from his parents – and Voldemort himself – to finally take the Dark Mark. And yet, he hadn’t. Not then, anyway. They had discussed politics, religion and all sorts of things they had considered important and weighty matters.
He had made her think in a way that she had never been encouraged to before. Ginny’s family, however amiable, had never wanted their only daughter to get involved in politics or actually form an opinion other than ‘Voldemort is bad’. He had made her laugh as well. She would walk away from their meetings chuckling aloud until someone asked her what was so damn funny. She had thought she loved him, with a capital L. The sort of love that goes beyond political barriers and formed lives filled with happiness and, she had hoped, children. She had imagined a beautiful house, not as grand as Draco’s and not as lopsided as hers, with little grey-eyed, red-headed children.
In preparation for this idealistic life, Ginny had given Draco her virginity. Looking back on it, it seemed romantic and foolhardy. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to regret the impulsive decision and the sweaty, beautiful couple of hours which had followed. He had slept afterwards, she remembered, looking much as he did now. He was still beautiful. Whatever trials and tribulations he had endured since their separation, nothing had stripped him of that fabulous physique or arrogant half-smile.
Ginny allowed herself a sigh as she did what she had wanted to do since the moment Ron had told her Draco was here. She took off her St Mungo’s-issued nightgown and lay down in Draco’s bed, curling around him until her breasts were pushed firmly against his back. He felt slightly different; his body had obviously grown since their last encounter. The boy she had loved had turned into a man.
Ginny rested her head on the unconscious Draco’s back. He had held her the last time they had met, rather like she was now holding him. They had made love in his, for once, deserted dormitory. He had held her afterwards, kissing her neck and shoulders. Then he had told her the news that would wreck her planned world and change her life forever. He was getting the Dark Mark. She had sobbed and begged him to change his mind, to run away with her and join the Order. He had refused. He had pulled her into his arms while she had cried herself dry for him. Then she had become angry. Obviously, his duty to his parents was more important than his love for her. Ginny had screamed unspeakable things at him. She knew they hurt him. She, who knew all of his secrets, used them against him to cause him as much pain as he had caused her. In response, he shattered her heart and told her that he had never loved her and had used her for a ‘quick fuck’. That vulgarity coming from the lips which not so long ago had caressed her, caused Ginny to leave him, vowing that she would never shed a single tear for him again.
And here he was, lying in her ward. She could not save him. He would die before morning. There was nothing Ginny could do to save the boy she had loved, who had turned into a man that she knew she still loved. And so Ginny spent Draco’s last night with her arms around his body, crying tears she had sworn never to release, feeling emotions she had hoped were gone. Just before dawn, Draco’s eyes opened briefly. He looked at her and she knew that he really saw her. He smiled and then his eyes fluttered closed. He was gone. Ginny eased her way out of their bed, his death bed, and replaced her nightgown. She brushed the tears from her eyes and went to organise Draco’s burial. Duty called.
The End.
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