Disclaimer: I did not create any of the Harry Potter characters or storyline….

Warning: None as of yet.

A/N: This is the sequel to my fic titled “Twisted”. Please read that fic first before reading this one, as you will not understand this at all if you don’t. This chapter is not meant to be long, so please don’t attack me with accusations on how short it is. Think of this as a sort of prologue…

Draco’s footsteps echoed loudly around the painfully white walls, the shiny, polished white floors reflecting his expression of terrible sorrow. How long had he been doing this? How long had it been since he had first walked these pristine corridors to room number thirty-seven?

“Ten years,” Draco muttered under his breath, turning the corner and avoiding colliding with a large woman pushing a trolley. Ten years he had walked along this floor, always going to the same room, always for the same reason…

He stopped outside the door, his eyes absently glancing at the black number “thirty-seven” that was peeling slightly. Sighing to himself he opened the door and walked into the room. It was just like it always was; the walls a bright white, the windows never giving enough light, and in the middle of the room the ugly green curtain shielded her from his view.

Taking in a small breath he walked forward and pulled back the sickly, green curtain, gazing down at the wasted woman lying in the bed. Her emaciated body was encased in a simple white gown, her face pale and sunken, with dark rings gathering steadily under her closed eyes. Long red hair that had once been rich with colour now fell dead and limp around her, only making the sickly pale tone of her skin stand out even more. She was but a shadow of the girl he remembered her as, but she was still beautiful to him, even now…. 

Draco sat down on his usual chair, reaching out to grasp one of her small, fragile hands in his own. His thumb absently ran over her skin, his eyes watching painfully as her chest rose and fell in laboured breaths. She was so broken, so lost to them, but he couldn’t stop himself from coming here. Nearly every week he came, taking a seat in this very chair where he would just watch her sleep. She never spoke, she never even moved, for she had been in a magically induced coma for nearly ten tears. Not once had she responded to their potions and spells, but her heart continued to beat, and her lungs continued to breathe. She was alive, but only just…

When he had first come here he used to talk to her; they all had talked to her once, until they realised that no matter what they said she never understood. The healer had told him that her mind was so trapped in between this world and the world beyond the veil that she had no knowledge of what was happening around her body. She was effectively separated from her body and there was a very real chance that she would never wake. Draco had refused to believe it, but now after ten years of watching her silent, immovable face he was beginning to give up… He was beginning to accept that the woman he loved might never look at him again…

He sighed slightly, rubbing a hand over his face as he leant back against the chair. Pansy would be furious if she found out he was here again. They all would be… Everyone seemed to think he needed to let her go, saying that he needed to find love again. He was twenty-seven now; he shouldn’t be clinging to ghosts of his past, but she wasn’t a ghost. She was as real and as important to him as she had been when he was seventeen. He could still remember the way she would smile; the way her lips would curve up, her chestnut eyes dancing with a golden glow, as that comforting warmth came into her eyes. He couldn’t let her go, and he knew that somewhere in this fragile and broken body that smiling girl still existed; she was just too lost to find her way back to him…

“Do you remember when we first became friends?” Draco asked finally, knowing that she couldn’t hear him and that he had spoken this story to her many times, but just wanting to do something. “It was the day after you had found out I was werewolf and Pansy had dragged me off to the courtyard. I was already in love with you then I think,” Draco admitted, a thoughtful expression on his face. “And maybe that was why I felt so drawn to you... You laughed and joked with us, talking about happy things. It felt good to smile again,” Draco said softly, a smile coming to his face even now just thinking about it. He laughed softly, shaking his head as he stared at the wall, “I remember how you started emphasising our names because you wanted us to call you by your nickname, and then we all ended up laughing at how ridiculous it was….”

He looked down at her, a soft glow in his stormy-grey eyes. “You really helped me that day, and I don’t think I ever thanked you for it…” He sighed, a frown coming to his lips. “There are a lot of things I never thanked you for…”

Gazing at her silent face, he let out another sigh, reaching out his hand to stroke her pale cheek, his eyes filling with regret and sorrow. Regret for what had happened, and sorrow for what he could no longer have… “I still love you,” he whispered in a broken voice. “Even if ten years have passed, I still love you, and I’m waiting for you...”

He stared at her for a moment, watching her feeble breathing, her silence and stillness building the frustration within him. Closing his eyes slightly, he wondered if he really could keep doing this. Always he came back here with the hope that maybe one day she would wake- that perhaps one day he would pull back that curtain and she would be sitting up with a smile on her face, her voice finally speaking to the fill the silent void in his life…but she never did….

Sighing again he leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on the forehead, smoothing her hair from her face. He pulled himself away, standing up with a resigned expression on his face. It had been another time of silence- another time of disappointment…

His footsteps once more echoing around the unbearably quiet room, Draco walked to the door and opened it, giving one last glance back at Ginny, his eyes filling with a pain only she could give him.

“Come back to me, Ginny.” Draco said softly, his prickling with tears. “I need you…”

The door shut behind him as he left, the room once more going back to silent. Ginny remained where she was, her breathing laboured, her heart beating feebly, and her expression so still and unresponsive that she’d might as well have been dead… There was something different, however; something that wasn’t quite the same, for on her pale cheeks a single tear glistened…