Breaking Her Silence

Part I

It was his death that had overwhelmed her to this point. She had lost mother, her father, three brothers, and too many friends. She had already endured so much. But at least he had been there with her. Her love, Harry Potter, had been there. But then in the last battle at the Ministry, in the Department of Mysteries, he had died as well. He had taken the Dark Lord with him, but he had still died. Ron had fallen in the same battle. When she saw their bodies she went silent and hadn't uttered a syllable since. That had been it for her. There was no reason for her to live now. So she had made a living death for herself.

It had been years since she had last spoken. Three years, seven months, and eleven days to be exact. She couldn't hear anything or anyone either. Maybe she just didn't want to. Day after day, she just sat there. At first she hadn't slept or eaten either. Now she would eat two meager meals a day and sleep for five hours. Besides that, Ginevra Weasley just sat with a lost expression on her pale and drawn face. She had never cried. Her grief was obviously beyond such things. She had retreated into her own mind to shut away the sorrow and the despair. Maybe in that world she was happy, because she didn't have to deal with the death of her loved ones.

He caretaker was the unlikeliest of people: Draco Malfoy. He had made sure that he was the one to take care of her. In his school days he could never have imagined it. But a cruel and unforgiving war had changed certain things.

It wasn't as though he had wanted to become friends with her. It had just happened. And he wouldn't even call it friendship. It was more of a mutual need for something like a rock in their lives during the chaotic war. His change in allegiance had not been anything remotely heroic. It had happened because he did not want to kill Dumbledore and had accepted his offer to protection. He knew he was a coward after that moment and his arrogance, rather than becoming a harder mask, had shattered completely. In the aftermath he became bitter and angry, but never arrogant. He came upon her many times in the new Headquarters. At first they didn't acknowledge each other. Then suddenly some days she might smile, even at him, when something particularly good had happened. And then the occasional grins became nonexistent.

When her father had died she sat down next to him and just looked out the window with him. It was a silent companionship. She didn't want to be near those who would outright fret over her. And Draco had never been any good with words so he stayed quiet and let her wallow in her misery.

Then another death and another. She would sit next to him- never next to any others in her family. She wouldn't even go to Harry. He had come many times at first when she was sitting with Draco to try and get her to come with him. He might comfort her. But she had pushed him away. It wasn't as though she had any particular feelings for Draco; she loved Harry with every fiber of her being. But Draco's awkward and broken presence was for some reason comforting to her, and he never questioned it. Some days they might make conversation about the weary people passing in front of the window. It was so much better than always talking about the war. That was all that anybody else seemed to want to discuss. And so with him she escaped.

He received something from these brief meetings. It reassured him; told him that he wasn't completely useless. A little confidence came back to him over the years, though it was nothing compared to the swaggering steps he had taken before. He learned how to be decent around her because he knew she was in no mood for any bad mouthing from him. She had molded him into a different version of the Draco that had already existed.

Draco never realized how much he looked forward to those conversations in front of the window until she went silent. And then after that, he knew he needed to be the one who take of her. Her surviving brothers, Percy and George, had wanted to be her caregivers. But in the end they realized the depth of Ginny's connection with Draco. It was only to his approaches that she did not shy away completely.

Everyday Draco would get up and Ginny would already be awake. She would be sitting in either the dining room or the sitting room. He could never tell which as it seemed rather sporadic to him, but maybe she had her own reasoning in that madness. He would bring her some breakfast; usually two slices of toast or scrambled eggs and kippers. He had started out giving her more to eat but she had never finished it all. Now he had the quantity down to a science.

After she had eaten he would try and talk to her. He would try and look into her eyes, but her eyes always looked past him. This had been going on for so long, and yet he still tried everyday. Many thought he was fighting a long lost battle. They thought the shock of losing so many would hold her forever. But Draco tried everyday, with the same zeal he always would. Sometimes he got frustrated, but he never let her see that. Weren't kind and caring words what helped people?

After giving her breakfast, he would leave for the ministry where he worked as a Hit Wizard. It had been difficult at first, having her at home when he worried about what she might try to do in the loneliness. But slowly he had seen, after taking frequent breaks from work, that she just sat still on the sofa and never did anything. And so he began to go to work regularly again. He came back at midday to check on her. She never ate any lunch so he would eat alone. Then he would go back and return home at six.

The schedule was strict: he almost never wavered in it. At six thirty he would take her on a walk through London. He thought that her pale grey skin could use the sun, and her soul, the fresh air.

He spent the night reading or finishing work. He would help Ginny into bed at eleven and then go to bed himself around midnight.

It was a rather monotonous lifestyle but Draco had never been big on adventure. And something quiet was what he needed after the war. After those years of insanity and misery, the monotony was peaceful, and he felt secure in it.

Part II

One morning in mid November was different though. Draco woke up a little later than usual. When he checked the time, it was 6:07 instead of 6:00 as it usually said. He just shook his head and went to take a shower and to dress for work.

Ginny was already up. She always was. She looked no different then when he saw her. She had disheveled hair and pallid skin. Her once beautiful face was sunken in, and there remained no emotion in it. She was a living skeleton.

Nothing was out of the ordinary. She had chosen to sit in the sitting room this morning and Draco brought her the usual to eat and then went and sat down himself in the dining room with his newspaper. There was an article concerning Percy's new appointment as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He smiled slightly: Ginny would want to see this. Or the old Ginny would have.

He clutched the newspaper in his hand, walked into the sitting room, and sat on the coffee table across from Ginny.

"Look Ginny! Percy's been made Head of a department at the Ministry," he said coaxingly.

She didn't reply, just continued to stare beyond him.

He tried again, "Did you not hear me? Your brother has achieved something so great and you won't even utter a sound? Come now, I know you care. Just show me that you care."

Nothing.

He sighed and ran his hands over his gelled back hair.

"Well all right, if you'd rather not show me that's fine. Once I leave, I hope you'll be happy about this news."

He didn't expect anything from her, but still…

Draco walked back to the dining room, cleared the table and apparated to the Ministry.

He apparated straight back into the sitting room and it was clear that she had not moved. He sighed and went upstairs and changed his clothes. He sat next to her and took her hand in his own.

"Ginny, is there nothing left in you? Will you not speak? If not for me, for your two brothers who still live? The world hasn't ended that you should sit in such a way. You are wasting a life worth living. You are wasting time that will never be given back to you. Ginny?"

But she remained motionless, and so he stood up and pulled her up with him. It was time for their evening stroll.

He put a coat on her emaciated frame and then helped her outside.

Once in the cool winter air Draco started to talk again. First he talked of his day at work which had been quite uneventful. Then he discussed other happenings in the world. And then he started to talk of something he had never talked with her about before. He started to talk about the night before the final battle.

"I remember that night quite clearly. I was sitting by the window reading Quidditch Through the Ages again when you came and sat next to me. You didn't say anything right away. After a while you said, 'Are you coming?' I nodded; I knew you were talking about the battle the next day and nothing else. You put a hand on my shoulder and said, 'We'll need all the courage we can get.' Again, I nodded. And then we sat in silence again until Potter took you away."

He looked at her hopefully, for any sign of recognition. But there was none. Why did he get his hopes up? He had told her many stories like that before and nothing had happened. Maybe he just thought that eventually she would break free of the cocoon she was in. But could he cause it or would it happen of its own accord?

That evening George came to visit her. The face of boyish glee was long gone. His face showed something completely different. He had premature wrinkles and his eyes held only unhappiness. Once he had opened a joke shop during a time of war. Now he worked slowly in a mundane office: those jokes now seemed humorless. Though he had never completely forgiven Draco for his childish antics at Hogwarts, it really didn't matter anymore. Everyone had matured. It was different now. He saw how Draco cared for Ginny. Indeed, it was different now.

"Anything?" George asked after the regular pleasantries had been exchanged. He always asked.

Draco shook his head. They both sighed and sat down on either side of Ginny.

George talked to her for near half an hour. Finally he stopped. He kissed her on the forehead and stood up.

"I'd best be leaving now."

Draco nodded and George vanished once he stepped out the door.

It was nearing eleven and Draco decided he should get Ginny to her room. Maybe after helping her to bed he could turn in earlier than he usually did.

Softly he said, "Time for bed Ginny."

Her movement was slow and lethargic. It was something like a command to her. She responded to it. Almost like a dog being told to sit or roll over. It made his heart break every time. She stood up and he took her hand gently and led her to her room. Once in there he went to her wardrobe and removed her nightgown. But it caught on something near the bottom of the wardrobe. First he extracted the nightgown and handed it to Ginny, who by some selective reasoning, knew that she needed to change into it. Draco usually stepped out of the room but this time he turned his back to her and crouched down in front of the wardrobe. The nightgown had caught onto the corner of a wooden box. Its red paint was peeling and upon closer inspection he saw that the top of it read, "Ginevra Molly Weasley." Curiosity overcame his usual indifference to such things and he opened up the dust covered box. The box had never caught his attention before, but Draco never noticed such things anyway. George or Percy must've brought it over when she had first moved in.

Behind him, Draco heard the mattress creak slightly as Ginny slipped into bed but he didn't turn off the light and leave as he usually did. Instead he took the box and sat on the bed next to Ginny.

Gently, he opened the box and peered into it. Inside the box was an assortment of different items. There were newspaper clippings, pictures, and little trinkets. The newspaper clippings were mainly of Potter. The pictures were of her with her family and of her with her friends. A thick leather book, which must've been her diary was in the box as well. There was also a key, but he could only guess as to what that was for. There was also a snitch that she must've caught during her fourth year. He looked through the box and found a ring. A simple gold circlet with a small diamond in the center. It must've been a gift from Potter he realized. Underneath the ring he found an envelope that had Ginny's name on the front. It was plain parchment but still it seemed important. He picked it up and saw that it was unopened; the wax seal was still in tact. He opened it gently and read it silently. His mouth opened slightly after finished it. Maybe if she…well, he shouldn't get his hopes up again.

As though he wasn't controlling his own actions he took Ginny's hand and put the ring onto her ring finger. It was a bit big but still, he left it there.

"That was from Po-, Harry, wasn't it?" he asked gently.

She didn't respond.

"Did you ever read this Ginny? It's a letter from…Harry. He- well I might as well read it to you: Ginny, I reckon you're surprised to find this in here. I found your secret treasure chest, but don't worry I didn't read your diary! Ginny, I know that my cheery tone must be bothering you in this horrible time because you'll only be reading this after I had died. I put a spell on the letter to destroy itself if I survived and Voldemort died. But that's beside the point. I want you to not be sad over my death. You know that I died because I chose to. You know that I did this for a better world. You know that all of this was so that what happened in our time would not happen again in the near future. I love you Ginny. I always have and I always will. That's the truth of it. But Ginny? Live in the world for which I, along with so many other you loved, gave their lives for. Don't resent what happened. Don't throw away your life after mine is done with. I couldn't live on to make the world even better. But you live on Ginny, and you need to keep working Ginny. Please, for me. I love you forever, Harry."

Still, no movement from her.

He shoved the letter in front of her face and gruffly said, "Look at this Ginny."

Hadn't she loved Potter? Shouldn't a letter like that, a testament to their love, evoke something in her? Was she so completely lost now? What was the point in any of this anymore? And then Draco did something he had only done twice before in his life. He lost it. He completely and totally lost it.

He took pictures from the box and threw them at Ginny.

"LOOK AT THESE! Ginny, these people DIED so that you could lead a normal life. A life WITHOUT FEAR! And THIS is how you repay them? By sitting silently forever? YOU NEVER DESERVED THEIR LOVE!"

Still she sat still.

Draco let out a scream of pure frustration. Why was he still taking care of her? Who cared if she died now? He took her by the shoulders and shook her like a rag doll.

"GINNY! WAKE UP! I'VE BEEN WASTING MY TIME TAKING CARE OF YOU WHEN THERE ISN'T ACTUALLY ANYONE TO TAKE CARE OF! AT LEAST IF YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ME, DO IT FOR HARRY AND RON AND YOUR MUM AND YOUR DAD AND-"

Did he see movement? Draco scrutinized Ginny. Her eyes had moved! They were now looking down at the ring that shone against her pale skin!

"Ginny?" Draco questioned softly, "Ginny?" His anger had evaporated instantly.

Slowly, as though it was taking all the effort in the world, she moved hand gently over the ring. A single pearlescent tear rolled down her face. If not for the sadness of her movements and this moment, Draco might have started screaming again. Tear after tear rolled down her face as she continued to look down at her ring. After many minutes of the silent crying, a sob finally escaped her. Draco was unsure of what do to. Should he try and comfort her or just leave her to her own devices. He had never comforted her before. As he pondered what to do next, Ginny said something amidst her soft crying. At first he couldn't understand it.

"I'm sorry Ginny, I'm afraid I didn't hear."

She repeated herself and he understood.

"Why?"

Draco's eyes started to cloud over as well. What could he say to her? That small word conveyed her every feeling of resent and betrayal. Why should she come back to a world that had killed those who she loved?

Instead Draco said, "Why? Because it's a cruel world. Good people aren't always rewarded. Bad people aren't always punished. The world isn't fair. But Ginny, there are still those who love you. Come back for them. Come back for the people who died for you, if for nothing else."

He looked at her and she seemed to be analyzing what he had said. Slowly, she nodded and took Potter's letter from his hand.

Draco smiled. She was slowly making her way out of the cocoon she had spun for herself.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and as sad as it is, never will.

A/N: Thanks for reading! And if you took the trouble to read it, please review it. Reviewers get lots of candy canes! And thanks to my betas BlindingPinkObsession and WinterBaby19!