He woke up on the couch. He didn't remember falling asleep there. When he padded down the hall and opened the bathroom door, he found the room empty. The alcohol bottle was still next to the sink, and it had the same amount of liquid in it as the previous night, so that meant she didn't have any more after he left her.
He checked the bedroom. She wasn't there. As he started to panic, his heart racing, wondering where she was, he heard a crack from behind him. He whirled around to find Ginny staring at him, holding a piece of bread and some coffee.
“Why do you look so pale?” she asked. “Well, paler than usual.”
He blinked at her and shook his head. “I was worried. Where did you go?”
She shook her hands. “I needed something to kick the hangover.” She slipped into the kitchen and started to make food, because apparently the bread wasn't enough. “Did I do anything embarrassing?”
“You were in the bathtub when I came back. Don't worry. It was empty. But you left your alcohol on the sink. What was it?”
Ginny stared at him. “Anything else?”
“Yes,” he muttered. “What's wrong with you?”
“What do you mean?” Ginny asked, as she sipped her coffee.
“You know exactly what I mean,” he said, moving closer to her. He gripped her wrist. “You don't drink. Not like you did last night. You weren't even here when I was talking to you. It's like you were somewhere else entirely.”
Ginny glared at him. “Let me go,” she said. “And you're wrong, you know. I heard you tell me that all of what Harry had accused me of was wrong. I know that! I just—”
“Got drunk because it's the only thing that will make this shitty situation any better?” Draco snarled. “I'm absolutely certain that it didn't. What are you hiding from?”
“Nothing,” Ginny said, her eyes darkening. “Now please let me go.” He did, and she rubbed her skin. “Jesus, what's wrong with you? You're being a real bastard.”
“Me?” Draco said, shaking his head. “You're the one who's secretly drinking and sitting in an empty bathtub. What was that even about?”
Ginny looked at him with narrowed eyes. “I used to do that when I was little, when I was afraid. I don't know why.”
Draco frowned and said softly, after taking her hand. “Tell me what you're afraid of. I can help you.”
She shook her head. “Can we just lie down?”
“We do that a lot,” he said, pulling her against him. He kissed her gently. “How about we put that bed to better use?” He smirked. “Aren't you all wound up from the drama?”
She leaned into him, and instead of answering his question, she asked one of her own. “Do you think I wrote that letter?”
He pulled back and stared at her. “What do you mean? You didn't do it.”
“I don't remember if I did or not,” she admitted, stepping away from him. She walked into the living room and used her wand to light a fire, then crouched in front of it. “I've been having slips,” she said softly, tapping her head. “Sometimes, I can't remember some days, and until today, I didn't think much of it.”
Draco frowned and cupped her cheek. “It's alright. I can see how that would be scary for you. But I promise, you didn't write any letter to Pansy. We'll figure out what the hell is going on.”
“I hope so,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist.
**
As she slept that night, curled in front of the fire, Draco left the flat quietly. He walked down the empty streets and into the nearest pub. He wasn't going to drink, because he saw what it did to people. No. He was there for information, and he was going to get it.
There weren't many people out tonight, which he was thankful for. He slipped into one of the bar stools and waited for the man to look at him, which he did almost immediately.
“Mr. Malfoy, you're out late.” The man ran a hand though his hair, his blue eyes light. "What can I get you?”
“Nothing to drink tonight,” Draco said, waving a hand dismissively. “But I did come here for something, and if you could help me that would be great. I need information.”
The man nodded. “What can I do for you?”
Draco took a breath. He hated to ask for this, but he didn't want to go to Blaise or Ginny's parents.
“I need to know where Harry Potter lives.”
**
So he stood in front of the Chosen One's house. He'd never thought he'd see the day when he would be here, knocking on the door of his childhood enemy. But he was, in the middle of the night, no less.
“God, I can't believe this,” he muttered to himself.
The door, however, flew open before he could knock. Pansy stood there looking at him with narrowed eyes, and wearing a dress that left little to the imagination.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded. “It's after midnight.”
“I need to talk to Harry,” he said calmly. “Now.”
Pansy raised an eyebrow. “He isn't here. And you're being awfully rude.”
“I'm being rude?” Draco said, snorting. “This coming from the woman who's accused my girlfriend of sending a threatening letter.”
Pansy laughed. “Have you been drinking? Why would I do something like that?”
He stared at her. He tried to think. He knew Ginny didn't do this. She couldn't have. So that meant one thing.
“You really don't know what I'm talking about?” he asked.
Pansy shook her head, looking at him worriedly. “I don't. I didn't get any letter.”
Draco nodded. He didn't know what else to do, so he turned to go. But stopped dead in his tracks as he whirled around to face Harry.
He checked the bedroom. She wasn't there. As he started to panic, his heart racing, wondering where she was, he heard a crack from behind him. He whirled around to find Ginny staring at him, holding a piece of bread and some coffee.
“Why do you look so pale?” she asked. “Well, paler than usual.”
He blinked at her and shook his head. “I was worried. Where did you go?”
She shook her hands. “I needed something to kick the hangover.” She slipped into the kitchen and started to make food, because apparently the bread wasn't enough. “Did I do anything embarrassing?”
“You were in the bathtub when I came back. Don't worry. It was empty. But you left your alcohol on the sink. What was it?”
Ginny stared at him. “Anything else?”
“Yes,” he muttered. “What's wrong with you?”
“What do you mean?” Ginny asked, as she sipped her coffee.
“You know exactly what I mean,” he said, moving closer to her. He gripped her wrist. “You don't drink. Not like you did last night. You weren't even here when I was talking to you. It's like you were somewhere else entirely.”
Ginny glared at him. “Let me go,” she said. “And you're wrong, you know. I heard you tell me that all of what Harry had accused me of was wrong. I know that! I just—”
“Got drunk because it's the only thing that will make this shitty situation any better?” Draco snarled. “I'm absolutely certain that it didn't. What are you hiding from?”
“Nothing,” Ginny said, her eyes darkening. “Now please let me go.” He did, and she rubbed her skin. “Jesus, what's wrong with you? You're being a real bastard.”
“Me?” Draco said, shaking his head. “You're the one who's secretly drinking and sitting in an empty bathtub. What was that even about?”
Ginny looked at him with narrowed eyes. “I used to do that when I was little, when I was afraid. I don't know why.”
Draco frowned and said softly, after taking her hand. “Tell me what you're afraid of. I can help you.”
She shook her head. “Can we just lie down?”
“We do that a lot,” he said, pulling her against him. He kissed her gently. “How about we put that bed to better use?” He smirked. “Aren't you all wound up from the drama?”
She leaned into him, and instead of answering his question, she asked one of her own. “Do you think I wrote that letter?”
He pulled back and stared at her. “What do you mean? You didn't do it.”
“I don't remember if I did or not,” she admitted, stepping away from him. She walked into the living room and used her wand to light a fire, then crouched in front of it. “I've been having slips,” she said softly, tapping her head. “Sometimes, I can't remember some days, and until today, I didn't think much of it.”
Draco frowned and cupped her cheek. “It's alright. I can see how that would be scary for you. But I promise, you didn't write any letter to Pansy. We'll figure out what the hell is going on.”
“I hope so,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist.
As she slept that night, curled in front of the fire, Draco left the flat quietly. He walked down the empty streets and into the nearest pub. He wasn't going to drink, because he saw what it did to people. No. He was there for information, and he was going to get it.
There weren't many people out tonight, which he was thankful for. He slipped into one of the bar stools and waited for the man to look at him, which he did almost immediately.
“Mr. Malfoy, you're out late.” The man ran a hand though his hair, his blue eyes light. "What can I get you?”
“Nothing to drink tonight,” Draco said, waving a hand dismissively. “But I did come here for something, and if you could help me that would be great. I need information.”
The man nodded. “What can I do for you?”
Draco took a breath. He hated to ask for this, but he didn't want to go to Blaise or Ginny's parents.
“I need to know where Harry Potter lives.”
So he stood in front of the Chosen One's house. He'd never thought he'd see the day when he would be here, knocking on the door of his childhood enemy. But he was, in the middle of the night, no less.
“God, I can't believe this,” he muttered to himself.
The door, however, flew open before he could knock. Pansy stood there looking at him with narrowed eyes, and wearing a dress that left little to the imagination.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded. “It's after midnight.”
“I need to talk to Harry,” he said calmly. “Now.”
Pansy raised an eyebrow. “He isn't here. And you're being awfully rude.”
“I'm being rude?” Draco said, snorting. “This coming from the woman who's accused my girlfriend of sending a threatening letter.”
Pansy laughed. “Have you been drinking? Why would I do something like that?”
He stared at her. He tried to think. He knew Ginny didn't do this. She couldn't have. So that meant one thing.
“You really don't know what I'm talking about?” he asked.
Pansy shook her head, looking at him worriedly. “I don't. I didn't get any letter.”
Draco nodded. He didn't know what else to do, so he turned to go. But stopped dead in his tracks as he whirled around to face Harry.
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