What Hurts the Most: Might be the Best
A/N: My muse, Maggie, is simple girl. All she likes are plot bunnies and reviews. So be kind to Maggie and feed her review cookies please.
This story is based off the song What Hurts the Most by Rascal Flatts. Title borrowed from same.
Big thanks to my beta Lbandoly for her hard work. She has spent countless hours editing and providing plot help for my stories. She makes my writing possible.
No copyright infringement intended. All characters are the property of JKR, Scholastic, and any number of other companies with more money than I've ever dreamed of seeing. I didn't make any money off of this, so please don't sue.
DG DG DG DG DG DG DG DG DG
The rain beat against the window pane as he stood staring out of it. The afternoon sky was dark and foreboding as the torrent poured down. Sharp bursts of lightning flashed through the darkness casting eerie shadows in the deep dark night. The rumble of thunder shook the glass of the windows with each deep resounding clap. The green grass of the lawn took on a deep hue in the muted light of the lightning; the heavy moisture adding to the depth of color. It was spring in Britain; the rain was expected and more than a little welcome by him. He had always loved rain, even heavy rains like tonight. The sweet refreshing smell that followed right behind a storm could soothe his soul like few things could…like she had been able to do.
He placed his open palm against the cool glass as if reaching out for a phantom in the darkness; a ghost of her. No, not a ghost, she wasn't dead…just gone.
He took a long drink from the crystal tumbler in his left hand, letting the alcohol burn. He enjoyed the exchange of emotional pain for physical. The masochist in him could understand and process the physical burn when it couldn't the emotional damage left in her wake. The whiskey helped when nothing else did even if more than once he had begun to think he was drinking more than was strictly healthy. If she were still here, he knew without one doubt that she would have cut him off days before.
Pulling away from the window he walked across the room and dropped heavily into the seat he always sat in. It was his favorite one to the left in front of the flickering flames of the library hearth. The chair that she said was too hard to be comfortable in. So he had gladly given up any right to sitting in the matching one directly next to it over to her. She had always said that while the chairs had looked so similar they were as different as night and day in comfort. Now he couldn't even stand to look right to the chair that had been hers. It was hers and she wasn't there sitting in it. There was no cup of tea on the table between the two chairs, no books lying around the chair legs, none lying face down open across the arm rest awaiting her return. The whole area just seemed wrong without her in it.
That was the largest part of his problem. No it was just one of many, many problems of the like. Everything he had come to know, to trust would always be there, everything he had taken for granted was gone. She was gone, not a ghost, just gone.
Even still that wasn't what hurt the most. No, what hurt the most was knowing that he was completely at fault for it all. He had been so close, so very close to having every dream of his before it had all been dashed against the rocks. They were rocks that he had placed in his own path ironically enough though he had not seen it till it was far too late. Only foolish men don't realize what a good thing they had till it was gone. That's what he was, a foolish man; a prideful, arrogant, foolish man.
Now he was a broken man that found it more difficult to wake up every morning. He found it almost unbearable to have to shower, shave, dress, and go to work every morning. Every morning that went by was harder still. There were moments, moments when he was too drunk to realize just how broken he was, that he could pretend. He could pretend that his life was the same as it had been a month before. He could pretend the books weren't around her chair because she had put them away. He could pretend her favorite perfume wasn't sitting on the vanity because she had used it all. He could pretend she wasn't at the dinner table because she was off visiting with one her brothers. In those moments life seemed the slightest bit bearable even if reality always crashed back in seconds later.
The problem was those moments never lasted nearly long enough. They would be gone in the blink of an eye. Perhaps if he were drunk enough they would remain until he had passed out across the top of the covers of the bed or the settee in the library. But he would always wake up to find that she was in fact gone and he was still alone with a broken heart that would never mend for lack of her.
It was hard to go into work everyday and see the pitied faces of those who worked for him. Wizards and witches that he had once before considered beneath him, less than human for the ancestry of their bloody, looked at him as if they felt they were better off than him. Maybe they were. Maybe they were better off after all they hadn't pushed the love of their lives away without noticing it.
Still worse was being near their friends. The looks ranged from pity to out right hatred. Those looks of seething anger weren't always from her friends, but rather from his. Those looks were from the very same friends that had gone through the same. Losing the battle of love and life and the deliriously insane battle one must fight to balance everything in working order. Their regret was now his and they hated him for not seeing it before it came. They hated him for not truly being their better as he had always claimed. They hated him because he had sneered down at them as one by one their lives had fallen apart. They hated him because they had not seen it anymore than he had even after they had previously experienced it firsthand in their own lives.
The glass empty in his hand, he hurled it at the open hearth. The glass connected with red brick and shattered into a million pieces before it rained down onto the flames below. Regret was eating him alive.
He knew if he could do it over he would change so many things. He would tell her everything. She would know his every heart's desire and every fear from his soul. She would know how he cherished her and worshiped the very ground she walked on. There would be tender words of love and devotion showered upon her night and day. There would be hours spent in one another's arms in every conceivable location. There would be flowers picked with her in mind and dinner's spent devouring more of each other than the meals on their plates.
There would be no words of affection left unsaid. There would be no harsh words of criticism. There would be no tears of regret and sorrow. There would be no traded barbs. There would be no fear or loathing.
But alas life moved on and he hadn't. Now she had, leaving him cold and alone in a home built for dozens. He haunted the manor day and night revisiting every place they had been together and crying tears in the ones they should have.
He let tears roll unashamed down his pale face. He was not afraid to cry. After all he, Draco Malfoy, had messed up. The tears were expected. He had been so close to having his every dream with Ginny. But he had forgotten or maybe he had never known how to keep his love open and his joys jubilant. He had locked down tight and pushed the one person he loved with his everything away. Never once realizing just how close to his every dream he really was.
And now, now he would never know. He would never know the perfect joy of growing old with the woman he loved because she was gone. He had turned his back and she had walked away. Now he would never know what could have been.
Ginny was gone and he we left cold and alone thinking of what hurt the most.
Silently a shaking elf winked into the room quietly approaching his master. He knew to fear the state his master was in. But he must tell his master. "Master," the elf squeaked.
"What Twinkles," he said gruffly. He voice was starchy and rough from too much alcohol, lack of real sleep, and lack of use. He wasn't even sure that was the elf's name. Ginny would have known. It was the type thing she found important. Maybe if he had found it important it would have mattered to her. Draco pulled up from the slumping position he was in. "Is Twinkles even your name?"
The elf's widened in a mix of shock and fear. "No master," it stuttered.
"Well then, what is it?"
"It's Tobby master."
"Tobby. Right, so what do you want Tobby?"
The elf gulped. "Mistress is in the front hall master. I wouldn't let her pass."
Draco jumped from his chair. "What! Why didn't you say so sooner?"
"You asked about my name master," the elf said quietly.
"Oh, right. So I did. Tell her I'll be with her in a moment." Draco half ran half stumbled around the room to his desk. He fumbled with the middle drawer before getting it open enough to pull a sobering potion from within it. He had taken to keeping them there after finding himself waking in the library on several occasions. Quickly he uncorked the vial, lifted it to his lips, and then tossed the vile tasting concoction back. He felt the wave of sobriety wash over him in the wake of the potion.
She was back for reasons he couldn't begin to guess at. In his heart he hoped that she was back for him but the bigger part of him feared that she was here for far worse reasons. He straightened his shirt and cast a quick refreshing charm over himself trying poorly to hide the stale odor of old fire whiskey and poor hygiene.
He grunted when he caught his reflection in the mirror that hung near the door. He looked like shit but it would have to do. If he left her waiting any longer she might leave again. He couldn't allow that. This was his one chance as far as he was concerned.
Quickly he made his way out of the room to the front hall. There, standing soaked from head to toe, water dripping from the curling ends of her hair, his Ginny stood.
"Ginny," he whispered a prayer to Merlin, the Greek Gods, or even the muggle Christ that she was here to stay. It mattered not who heard him so long as they listened.
"I…I…I don't know why I'm here," she said softly. Her eyes were cast to the floor as if watching the growing wet spot in the carpet around her. "I thought what I wanted was to be away from here, but now I don't know anymore."
Draco snapped his fingers and Tobby winked into the hall. "Bring the Ginny a towel, a robe, and a hot cup of tea."
"Yes master," the elf said before winking away again.
"You know his name," Ginny said with more than a little shock coloring her voice.
Draco nodded. "It occurred to me earlier that I don't know any of the elves names. I only know his so far."
"You only have three; all male. Tobby, Bobbet, and Jermi. None of them were here when you were a child. They are all former Hogwarts, Slytherin elves. Part of the group that wished to be bound after Hermione convinced the board to pay them wages."
"I'll try to remember that."
Tobby winked back in and silently stood by while Ginny dried off with the towel. She slipped the robe over her wet clothes. "Thank you Tobby."
"Yous are welcome Mistress. We've misses you mistress."
"Thank you Tobby. I've missed you all as well." Ginny smiled and took the steaming cup of tea the elf still held.
"That will be all Tobby. Unless Ginny would like something to eat."
Ginny shook her head.
"Very well then. That will be all. We shall call you if we are in need of anything."
"Yes master," the elf replied with a slight nod.
Draco looked quietly at Ginny. "If you would like you can vanish the clothes to the laundry and warm up in the library in front the fire or I'm certain I've got some lounge clothing you're welcome to wear."
"I think I'll do that. I'll be done in a moment."
Ginny turned and headed up the stairs that led to the second floor of the manor where their room, now Draco's, was located. Ten minuets later she returned to find him still standing at the bottom of the stairs. She was wearing a thick pair of flannel sleep pants and a gray Quidditch World Cup jumper but her damp hair was still causing her to shiver.
Draco lifted his hand and ushered her through the open door of the library. She went straight to "her" chair as he thought of it.
"Are you cold?"
She nodded. He waved his wand and transfigured a sheet of parchment into a warm thick blanket before laying it over her lap. He knelt in front of her trying his best to not gather hope with her continued presence. "Can I get you anything else?"
"No. Thank you." She paused and looked away. "I don't deserve your kindness."
Draco smiled warmly something he wished he had done more of before she left. "No, you deserve so much more Gin. I'm just sorry it took me so long to realize that."
Ginny stared into the flickering flames before her over Draco's head. "You've changed…"
"Maybe I have. All I know is that I've loved and lost and it's my own fault. Unless you're here to say I've not totally lost then I'll reserve my opinion of changed to say it was too little too late."
"It's never too late Draco."
"It isn't?"
"No and you aren't the only one that needed to change Draco. I expected a fairytale prince charming. That's not who you are. I knew that before I married you."
"You don't need to change Gin. You're perfect the way you are. I'm sorry I hurt you so much you felt you needed to leave."
"I'm more sorry I didn't tell you I was hurting till it was so far gone."
Draco laughed as he changed position to sit on the warm wood floor. "I guess that makes us both acceptably sorry."
"So it does."
They sat quietly watching the flames, the occasional crack of deep rumbling thunder breaking the otherwise quietness of the room.
Draco looked back over his shoulder. "You're welcome to come home Ginny."
She looked down at him and smiled. "Please?" she asked quietly.
"There's no need to beg. This is your home as much as it is mine love. I'll go wherever you've been staying to retrieve your stuff right now if you'll just come home for good."
"Will you really?"
"I really will."
Ginny smiled. She slid down from the chair and wrapped her arms around Draco. "I love you. I'm so sorry I left instead of trying to work out what I thought was wrong."
Draco pulled away from her and smiled. He brushed a fallen lock of hair away from her eyes. "There's no need to be sorry. It might have been just what I needed. I didn't know what truly hurt the most until you left. Now I know so I won't do it to you ever again. I love you Ginny. I love you so very much that it hurt more and more every day that you weren't here."
"Well I'm back now."
"Thank Merlin for it. I don't think I know how to live properly without you."
"Let's try to not find out again."
"Sounds like a brilliant plan to me."
Draco pulled a small object from his pocket. Her wedding ring lay in the palm of his hand. She had left it on his desk when she had left. He had found it hours later, long bereft of her warmth. He had more than once held it tightly in his fisted hand as he had drank in cried. Now it was time to give it back. "Will you marry me again Ginevra?"
"Yes," she said quietly. Once again she threw her arms around him pulling him tightly to her. Her tears came on fast and strong but they were comforting to Draco. His night had started with his own tears of pain and it would end with hers of joy.