– And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
And get him to swap our places –

'Running Up That Hill' – Placebo

/x/x/x/x/x/

Ginny reached across the metal table for Draco's hands. The metal was cool on her bare forearms, yet his hands were colder still. She grasped them tightly, trying to ignore the faint trembling she could feel in them. She shot him her best smile, tremulous as it was, and received a small upturn of his lips in return. At least it was something. His face was drawn, the naturally pale skin snow white when regarded against the sterile whiteness of the room. No, not room. Cell.

"Hey," she whispered, giving his hands a squeeze, "you're not ignoring me, are you?"

He glanced up at her, took in her teasing smile and offered her a small, empty grin in return. "As if I could," he muttered, an echo of his usual sarcasm clinging to the words.

They sat quietly for a few more minutes, each lost in their respective thoughts. Involuntarily, Ginny's eyes were drawn to the clock on the wall above Draco's head. Her heart clenched painfully, a small gasp escaping her lips in a puff of frozen air. Draco's hands tightened painfully around her own, his normally silver eyes capturing her own. The silver accents seemed to have been swallowed up by an empty void of endless grey. Ginny used to love his eyes, for one who expressed so little Draco told many secrets through his eyes. At that moment, she may as well have been looking into a frozen pond.

"How long?" he asked, his voice deceptively steady. Ginny blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. She felt decidedly lightheaded and sick, the chill in the room doing nothing to combat the hot flush that swept through her, leaving her head feeling as though it were stuffed with cotton wool.

"Ten minutes," she ground out, eyes squeezing shut once more. Ten minutes. It was nothing. The steady ticking of the clock sounded out like a drum in the room. Where had the hour gone? Ginny wasn't aware of crying until she felt the rough pads of Draco's fingertips brush her cheeks. She opened her eyes once more, peering through a wall of tears into his angel face. He brushed her hair back from her face, eyes studying her intently. With an angry sniff, Ginny dashed the rest of her tears away. She was being selfish; if anybody should be crying, it was him.

"Ginny," he started, eyes dropping from her own to study the featureless table top. She laid her hand over his once more, beseeching him with everything she had to say something. Anything. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Gin... you're going to be alright, aren't you?" He glanced up at her once more, unease rife in his features. "You're not going to do anything... silly, are you?"

"No," she choked out; her throat seemed to be determined to close up around the building tears, "I'll be alright. Don't you worry about me."

He gave a short nod, and she felt his hands curl into fists below her own. She glanced up at the clock once more, six minutes left. She fought the urge to scream in frustration, where was the time going? Surely the clock was wrong, it was fast – surely she had more time left with him!

"One more thing," he said, head bowed, "after this, I don't want you to come and visit me. I think it would be in your best interests to forget about me."

Ginny felt the strangled sob escape her throat, the sound foreign to her ears.

"No!" she snapped, standing up from her chair. "I won't abandon you here Draco, and I sure as hell won't 'forget about you'!"

Ignoring the warning tap on the window from the Guard, Ginny marched around the table to where Draco sat, bound into his chair. Kneeling on the cold tiles, she took his drawn face gently between her hands, forcing him to look at her.

"I love you, you great dunce," she whispered fiercely, thumbs gently sweeping across his cheekbones, "and I know you're innocent. More importantly, I know you."

He leant forward into her hands, eyes clenched shut. Ginny stood, stepping as close as she could to gather him into her arms. He sighed tremulously into her chest, his gaunt frame shivering against her own. Ginny placed a soft kiss atop of his soft, silvery hair, rocking him gently as his silent tears wet the material of her shirt.

The moment was brought to an abrupt end when the door banged open, admitting the weedy Ministry official and the tall, burly Azkaban guard.

"Time to go, Mr Malfoy," the official said, giving Ginny a sideways look. Ginny drew herself up to her full height, angling herself so that she stood between Draco and the Guard.

"Ginny," Draco murmured, "just let me go."

He sounded utterly defeated and Ginny wanted to unleash the nastiest hex she could think of on the two men, one that would leave them writhing on the floor. The hate and anger coiled in her stomach, a black bile that churned and burnt her insides. She took in a deep breath, and stepped aside. She hated herself the most.

The room temperature seemed to drop another ten degrees, an icy hand clawing its way through her chest to dig its nails into her heart and squeeze. A Dementor glided past the open door, the hollow cowl turning to survey the occupants of the room before it continued down the corridor. Behind her, Draco's breathing was harsh and erratic.

"Come Miss, it's time for you to take your place in the gallery, as you requested," said the official, the look on his face making it quite clear that he thought her either mad or twisted. Perhaps both.

"Please, no" Ginny begged, reaching out with a beseeching hand, "just give him more time. One more week and I can prove his innocence, I can!" Her voice was rising with hysteria, she was a mere second away from dropping to her knees and begging. The official (Timothy Bachurn, according to his name badge) shifted uncomfortably and avoided her burning eyes.

"I'm sorry Miss Weasley, truly I am, but I don't have the authority to make decisions like that." He glanced in Draco's direction, a small grimace tightening his features. "Mr Malfoy has been allowed extra time twice already, now he must face the Kiss. I'm sorry."

And then she was being taken by the arm and led down the corridor. She tried to twist away from his grip, but he was stronger than his appearance hinted at.

"Draco!" she called out frantically, "Draco!"

She was pulled into a small room, containing a few ladder backed chairs. She flew to the window, charmed against smashing, and pressed her hands to the cool glass. Draco was led in a second later, his drab prisoners' uniform hanging off of his near skeletal figure. The Guard pushed him none to gently into the single chair, flicked his wand and watched with a critical eye as ropes bound Draco to his chair.

The tears were running freely down Ginny's face, but when Draco looked up and caught her eye she gave him the biggest smile she could manage. His lips curved up on one side.

"Any last words?" asked the Guard, taking a step towards the door. Draco stared at Ginny, eyes feverish as he sought to imprint her features into his mind.

"Just thank you," he said, clearing his throat before continuing, "and I... I love you, Ginny. And because I love you, I want you to go and marry Potter, and have fifteen red haired kids. Be happy."

Ginny's fists curled into fists against the glass, a sob catching in her throat. She could see how difficult it had been for him to say that, to express himself in front of others. To tell her to find happiness with Harry, of all people. She shook her head, smiling through her tears at him.

"I love you," she mouthed against the glass.

Receiving the confirming nod from Timothy, the Guard left the room, holding the door open for the Dementor. It glided in, the cavernous hood looking to the glass window briefly, before settling on Draco. Ginny could see his chest rising and falling in quick succession, the beads of sweat rolling down his neck. He was terrified, and she was terrified for him. The creature lowered its hood, and Ginny wanted to run and never stop until the she died from exhaustion.

With an almost gentle touch, the two ravaged hands took Draco's face and tilted it back, as if in mockery of Ginny's earlier actions.

Ginny snapped. She pounded her fists into the glass, trying to distract the Dementor, wishing desperately that she hadn't had her wand removed from her on arrival.

"Draco!" she screamed, hitting the unyielding glass with all of her strength, "DRACO!"

Timothy was trying to grab her arms, yelling that she would hurt herself. Ginny grasped the front of his robes, shaking him.

"Let me take his place," she begged, "please!" But he could only shake his head at her, horror painted on his features.

Shoving him away from her she whipped around, hands flying to her mouth at what she witnessed through the window.

The Dementor had lowered its head to Draco's, the gaping hole in place of its mouth hovering a bare inch above Draco's trembling lips. The very air seemed to turn to ice as it sucked; Draco's back arching gently against his bonds, eyes fluttering shut, as though he were accepting a lover's kiss.

Something small and shining with a pure light drifted from between his lips, hovered for second as though undecided on where to go, and then ascended into the waiting maw of the Dementor. Draco's figure slumped against the chair, the horror fading from his face, unfocused eyes staring uncomprehendingly at nothing.

Ginny became aware of the sound of screaming, realising after a moment that it was her. Timothy was trying to tell her something comforting, pressing the charmed emergency stone in his pocket urgently, calling for help.

She was dimly aware of large hands holding her in place as the Dementor drifted past the now open doorway, stopping her from launching herself at it.

"Me too," she screamed. "Let it have me, too!"

And the temperature seemed to be dropping yet again, and the emptiness inside of her was growing and eating away at her. She collapsed against the wall and dry heaved, nauseous with the tears and the pain. She lifted her head to look through the window, Draco's figure remained unchanged, he himself unmoved by her distress. He was really gone, a shell.

Ginny felt her eyes roll back, darkness consuming her. There would be no meeting on the other side for them. He was lost.

/x/x/x/x/x/

A/N: Right folks, hope that was somewhat enjoyable. I realise the song quoted at the beginning was originally by Kate Bush, but the Placebo version is more eerie, more in keeping with this story. So, yes. I disclaim on the song and Harry Potter. Happy? I doown Timothy, but only loosely. These characters tend to be free spirits, you know. This was un-beta'd, so any mistakes are mine. Do leave me your thoughts and whatnot, and have a Happy New Year!

WishfulWhispers