was sometimes a good thing and sometimes not. Harry admired Ron's determination, but it could be hard to get through to him when he had his mind set on something.
'You're all right?' said Ron, looking at Harry searchingly. 'The Dementors and everything…you're okay?'
'I'm fine,' said Harry. To his surprise, this was the truth. 'They affected Malfoy a lot more than they affected me.'
'Which is weird,' said Ron.
'I agree,' said Harry. 'But I'm not sure it means anything. Scratch that. It means something, but I don't know what.'
'Well, you're going to get some time to find out,' said Ron.
'Meaning?'
'Meaning I think Ginny and I should go find some help, and you should stay here with Malfoy. We're not leaving him alone in the woods with a broken leg, much as I dislike him, and I'm certainly not leaving him alone here with Ginny while you and I go off-'
'Even with a broken leg?' grinned Harry. 'He couldn't catch her if she ran.'
'What if she doesn't run?'
'You're paranoid,' said Harry.
In response, Ron's eyes flicked past him. Harry turned, and saw Draco propped up against a tree trunk, Ginny bending over him, looking solicitous.
'Means nothing,' said Harry.
'I'm not letting her hang around here playing nursemaid to Malfoy.
Because… well, because-'
'Because playing nursemaid leads to playing naughty stewardess?'
'Harry,' said Ron, indignantly.
Harry threw up his hands. 'You are not sane on this topic.'
Ron shrugged. 'I was brought up to hate the name of Malfoy and to look after my little sister. So tell me, what do you think I should do?'
'Does that hurt now?' asked Ginny anxiously, pushing a stray tendril of hair out of her eyes. She had been helping Draco sit up against a tree trunk. His broken leg lay stretched out stiffly in front of him and he held Slytherin's sword across his lap.
'Yes, it hurts,' said Draco irritably. 'My leg's broken. Of course it hurts. Doesn't anyone know any pain-killing charms? What's wrong with you people?'
'Do you know any?' said Ginny sharply.
'No,' said Draco without a trace of embarrassment.
'God, you're annoying, even with a broken leg,' she said, but she said it without rancor. 'Look, just sit back, will you?' She put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back gently so that he was leaning against the tree trunk.
'Thanks,' he said, and shut his eyes.
'No problem,' said Ginny softly, looking at him. In a way, she was glad he had his eyes shut, because it meant she could look at him without having to look away. He was pale, probably from pain, making the livid cuts where the branches had torn at his face stand out more clearly against his skin. So did his eyelashes, which were long and dark enough to make Lavender Brown desperately jealous.
'Don't,' he said, without opening his eyes.
'Don't what?' said Ginny, shrinking back guiltily.
'Look at me. It makes me nervous.' He opened his eyes and studied her expression for a moment, then shut them again as if the sight of her pained him, and said flatly, 'Forget it. It won't work.'
Ginny was floored. 'What won't work?'
He sighed. 'I know what you're thinking,' he said. 'Same thing you were thinking last night. 'Hey, look at Malfoy, all cute and helpless and kinda nice. He's not mean; he's just wounded and bitter. All he needs is love and he'll be fixed right up.' Well, guess what?' he said, unmoved by her horrified expression. 'I'm not nice. And I don't need love and I don't want to be fixed. Especially not by you.'
'I never,' spluttered Ginny, lost for words. 'I certainly don't-'
'Good,' said Draco. 'Put it out of your mind. Because if you want a nice boyfriend, you'd be better off with the one you've got now.
Imaginary Harry Potter.'
Ginny was so furious, she wanted to hit him. But he has a broken leg, she told herself. You can't hit someone with a broken leg. She wanted to say something nasty and cutting, something really vicious. She wanted to tell him no wonder your father didn't want you, or Imaginary Harry Potter's better than actual Draco Malfoy any day, just ask Hermione.
But she couldn't.
Instead, she just said, as evenly as she could, 'Malfoy, have you ever even heard of tact?'
He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was alarmed to see how dilated his pupils were, whether from shock or pain she wasn't sure.
His irises looked black, ringed with only the thinnest band of silver.
'Tact is just lying for grown-ups,' he said in a level tone.
