*All characters events, locations, and things, belonging to the Harry Potter world, are the sole ownership of J.K. Rowling. I am just borrowing them to write these stories of mine. Everything else, is my creation.
CHAPTER ONE: MRS. SUMMERS
"Do you love me?" She had sadly remembered asking him. She was seventeen, and freshly out of school, and she had loved the man before her since she was a girl. It had taken him six years from the day they met to accept the fact he loved her too.
"I do." He had offered his answer freely, without any kind of doubt. He never doubted it, not when he told her, not when he showed it to her. "Do you–do you love me, Gin?"
"More than you know." That had been the day she had given herself to him for the first time. He had never asked for it, but she had willingly given it to him. She had loved him, and she still did underneath all the resentment.
She had come home one day from visiting her parents at the Burrow and he was gone. His cloak was gone, his broom was gone, but what had made it true; was the fact that the picture of Harry's mum and dad, which had sat next to his side of the bed, was gone.
Now it had been years since she had seen him last, since he had disappeared without a goodbye or even a why. But she could see him in her dreams; the nineteen-year-old image of him forever imprinted in her mind, telling her he loved her.
She still remembered the way he looked the last time she saw him. He'd been sitting by the fireplace; a sad, lost look in his eyes, holding a photograph of his father, mother and godfather in his hands. He had lost himself, and she couldn't understand why. After the war ended he been at the very least content, and happy to be with her, but then, things had changed, and she simply couldn't understand it. What had happened to make him change, to make him leave?
He had broken her heart, ended any hope for love she had ever had. He was gone, but she was still there, pathetically waiting for his return after nine years.
ooooo
"Ginny, Ginny." She didn't stir. "Ginny." She turned in bed, and muffled a grunt underneath her pillow. "Gin –"
"I'm up… oh God," she yawned, rubbing her face. "What time is it?" she asked as she turned to look at her husband, sitting at the edge of the bed fastening his boots on.
"Eight," he answered.
One of the things Ginny had always disliked about her husband was how vein he was, how sure he was of himself. But he was also strong, he would never break. He had stuck by her for over seven years, seven years he could have spent with someone that loved him. And he knew it full well, he knew she didn't love him, at least not the way a wife should love her husband. It had been all that, and more which had driven her to accept him, when he asked her more than seven years before. She had accepted the man standing on the front lawn of the Burrow, late one night, with Ginny looking out of her bedroom window at him.
"Did Charlie wake up?" she asked sitting up on the bed.
"He ate breakfast with me. He's in his room playing," he answered blandly, now more focused on his reflection in the mirror across from him.
Alan Summers was one of those people who thought everything about himself was perfect; his smooth dark, golden hair, his deep blue eyes, his strong jaw and chin, and his body— all of which he had spent the last twenty years or so of his life perfecting—Even his bloodline was impressive in the eyes of those who might care of such things. He spoke with purpose and walked the right way. He had married the woman he wanted, and he had a great job. He had all the right connections and the money—well he couldn't complain about that—He had more than tripled his inheritance since his parents had passed away when he was eighteen. Life was good for the three Summers: Alan, Ginny and their son Charlie.
"Why didn't you wake me up for breakfast?" she asked after stretching.
"You got home late last night, I thought maybe you would appreciate some extra sleep." He pulled his pant leg over his boot. He put his hands over his knees, and sat still for a moment. He wanted to ask her, Ginny was sure of it. He wanted to say something, ask her were she'd really been, but he didn't, instead he stood up and walked to the mirror.
"I think you're right," she answered, yawning again, letting his hesitation go unnoticed. She noticed, she always did, but like Alan, she never questioned it. It suited her, or maybe it suited both of them, this conscious ignorance.
"Do you work today?" he asked, glancing back at her, and then back at his own reflection as he flattened the front of his robes.
She looked at him for a moment, leaning forward on her hands, watching him fix the corner of his robes, watching him pull at a seemingly invisible piece of lint from it.
"Later," she said after a moment, standing up. "I'll take Charlie to mum's and then I have to go into the office for a few hours. I won't be too late. Klinny has some papers I have to look over," she added, walking to the bathroom, Alan following closely behind, smoothing his hair down with the palm of his hand.
"I'll see you tonight then?" he spoke monotonously, placing a kiss on her cheek, like he had done so many times before.
"Of course," she answered.
It was like a practice dance between them. He did the same thing every morning, said the same things, asked the same questions, and always, she answered him in the same way.
He took one last glance at his hair in the bathroom mirror, fixing any strands of it that might have moved out of place when he leaned down to kiss his wife. "Have a good day," he said as he left the bathroom not even offering his wife a look or a smile.
Alan, in Ginny's eyes; seemed to have two sides—like most people—The one she knew and lived with, was the part of him that followed plans, stayed on track, and always made sure he choose correctly before making any decision. That was the part of him that never questioned her, the part that was safe, the piece of him—where she could say—she knew him. He would never mistreat her, never question her, and he would always make sure his family was comfortable, and content.
Ginny knew—or she'd eventually realized—or maybe she'd always known—that love wasn't one of the things that made him act that way he did towards her. She knew he had married her, because she was good for him, for what he wanted in life, and she had married him for the same reasons. Alan didn't seem to expect love from her, just loyalty.
ooooo
Ginny had dropped Charlie off at the Burrow with her mother. Now she was sitting in a living room, fiddling with a tassel on one of the throw pillows as she waited.
She looked around the room. She had been there the day before, but before that she had had no reason to go there while he'd been away. Now sitting there, waiting for him, she couldn't believe she was back. As always, they'd had a fight, they had yelled at each other, she had told him they were done, but before she'd even stepped out of the room, he had grabbed at her, and he had convinced her to stay, to come back. And now, there she was once more, waiting for him, like an addict returning to her drug.
A large portrait of his parents hung above the fireplace. The old woman in the portrait had smiled sweetly at her; she had often spoken to Ginny, told her how nice of a young man her son was. The old man had proudly assured that his son was a great man, that she should consider him, if she was looking, of course. She had answer politely to both, and Daniel had laughed at how she respected portraits, when they weren't even real people, just their painted representations. She always answered with a smile and a shrug.
Another portrait of a man in a ruffled neck shirt, had recited sonnets to her in old English. He had assured her he wrote them, but she recognized them as being written by the muggle writer and poet, William Shakespeare.
She sighed and looked at the clock on the wall to the left, he was late, like always. She took a deep breath closing her eyes and pressed the bridge of her nose. As she opened her eyes, two arms embraced her. She smiled, as the man behind her kissed her neck.
"I missed you," he breathed in a whisper as he walked around, and sat next to her. He kissed her deeply, holding her by the back of the neck, pulling her to him.
"Me too," she said after he'd pulled away, his forehead resting against hers. His hand move down her side to her waist and he wrapped his arms around her, embracing her, resting his chin on her shoulder, sighing.
"That bloody job of mine. I should quit, leave that prat of a boss of mine to his own means, spend all my time with you," she laughed, sliding her fingers through his dark hair.
They pulled apart, falling back onto the couch side by side. She looked at him, resting her hand on his chest. She looked at his raven black hair, his deep, emerald eyes, but no scar.
Daniel Engal was the closes Ginny had gotten to Harry. He reminded her so much of him. They were so much alike, from the physical, all the way to the temperament. Strong willed, loyal, and the ability to love with every fiber of his being.
Daniel was the passion in her life, the ecstasy she needed to stay alive. Even after marrying Alan, she had not been able to leave Daniel. It didn't matter, not really. Ginny had not felt guilty about it all, not when it came to her husband at least. Alan wanted the perfect family, but what did he expect? It had been years since she had allowed him to touch her. She wasn't stupid; she knew that from the very beginning Alan had been getting what Ginny didn't give him, elsewhere, just like she did with Daniel.
"You know you wont," she said, kissing the side of his face. "How would you feed yourself?" she asked, giggling as he had found a particular tender spot in her neck.
"You know I don't need the job, not with the gold my parents left me. Besides if I really need it, I can go to America, work for my uncle. You could leave that pretty boy of yours, we can run away together. You, Charlie, and me, a family," he said in between kisses.
He had always included Charlie in his plans with her, and she loved him for it. Only if she could. Daniel with his plans for a future together, with her and her son, without Alan. Daniel with his kisses and his love for her.
She sighed. "You know I can't do that, you're bad for me," Ginny said after a moment.
"I'll be good," he said with a wicked smile.
"Oh, but you wouldn't be any good to me that way." She smiled back, and laughed. She pushed him away and stood up to run up the stairs.
"Oh, I'm good any way," he called, pushing himself off the couch, following her up the stairs with a devious smile on his face.
ooooo
A while later, she was back in his bed, where she had promised herself she would never be again. But she was weak, and he was so insistent, so beautiful, so addictive.
She could never have enough of him. He was strong, yet she felt that if she left him he would break, he had told her so on many occasion, and she believed him. When she had tried to leave him, he had always found a way to get her to come back to him. The last time, a year before, he had come crying to her door, begging her to not leave him. Alan had been at work, and when she'd come down the stairs—after hearing all the ruckus—she was shocked to find Daniel, with his arms bound tightly around a startled Charlie, telling him in between sobs, "I love her." For a moment, she taught she saw Harry.
"Do you love me?" He was laying next to her, his hand caressing her hair, his legs around her, holding her tight against him.
She sighed, shaking her head. "Danny," she said, a sad look on her face. Of course he knew what she was trying to say, she could see it in the way his expression changed. She sighed as he turned around away from her, sitting up on the side of the bed. "Don't get upset," she said, moving closer to him, placing a hand on his smooth back. He didn't answer.
She sat up, and put her arms around him, kissing his back. "I love you, but not in the way you want me to, you know that. Can't it be enough you have me, Love?" she asked.
She yelped as he turned around, and fell on her, knocking her back into the bed, a smile on his face. She laughed, as he kissed her all down her neck, down her shoulder, all the way down to the tips of her fingers.
"I do," he said, burning her with that intense look of his, that look that said that the very thought of her made his heart beat. "My love is enough for both of us. You don't have to love me, I know you love him."
She closed her eyes with a pained expression, "don't" she said. Don't bring Harry up, she was asking, but he didn't listen, and he kept on.
"I just wish you would understand that he'll never come back. You know that, don't you? It's been nine years, Ginny, nine years and the bastard hasn't come back. If he loved you, it would be him here, in this bed with you, not me."
"Daniel, please," she said, begging him to stop. She didn't need reminding of how long Harry had been gone for. Every day she remembered. Every day it pained her to remember what he'd done, the the way he'd simply disappeared leaving her behind. "I've asked you before, please," she said her eyes hard, her voice steady, but it all seemed to be falling on deaf ears because he didn't stop.
"You know what that means, don't you, Love? Its me you need to love, me, not Harry fucking Potter."
Her eyes glistened, and for a moment it looked as though she were about to cry, but then her expression hardened, and she pushed him off of her, getting off the bed, reaching for her clothes.
"You promised, but I should have known better," she was saying as she got into her pants. "You're... I let you convince me, as if anything is going to change," she said, grabbing her shirt from the floor, and slipping it on over her head. "I should know better by know," she said sitting at the edge of the bed, slipping on her shoes, "I should know you can't change, and that's on me," she said, standing up, and pulling her hair into a pony tail.
"Ginny, Love, don't be mad," Daniel said, finally realizing what he'd done, what he'd said. "I didn't mean to, I swear I won't bring him up again. I swear we're all good, no need to leave, Darling," he said as he walked to her, putting his arms around her, but she pushed him back.
"No its not, because no matter how much you promise, you can't help yourself. I know that, I've always known that, and still here I am again."
"Come on, Gin." He was trying to turn her by the arm, "what about Charlie?"
"What about him?" Ginny said turning around, her eyes burning.
"He needs a father," Daniel said.
"He has a father."
"That Alan," Daniel said turning away pacing a couple feet back, "buying gifts, giving him anything he wants, but then ignoring him. That's no father. I should be the one taking care of you two."
"Enough, Daniel."
"I know it. You wont tell me, but I know," Daniel continued, turning back to face Ginny.
"Stop it," she said calmly facing the ground.
"I know he's mine, yet you wouldn't marry me, you married him instead," he said stepping forward, closer to her.
"Marry you?" she said sadly, "I couldn't marry you, you wouldn't have made any better of a father. I know you, you would have left. Men like you—"
"Men like me?"
"Yes, men like you always leave, when it gets too much to handle. The only reason you haven't is because I've done all the leaving in this...this agreement."
"Agreement?" Daniel was standing inches from her, now he was the angry one, now he was the one who'd been said the wrong thing.
"It should have been over yesterday, but I let you pull me back, I let myself back to you," she said, turning to walk way. "Please don't look for me, don't call me. This over, and it's real this time. Goodbye, Daniel," she finished, and without another word, or gesture, she walked out the door. Leaving Daniel stunned, were she had left him standing, not only his body cold and naked, but his heart as well.
He started to breath deeply, started to hyperventilate. "No…. no, no, no, no, no!" And without any warning he drove his head into the mirror. As the glass shattered, he fell to the floor and began to cry desperately, his face beginning to fill with blood. In a matter of seconds, Ginny was standing over him, her hands over his face, trying to stop the blood that was now dripping down his neck.
He knew her; she would never leave him. Not because of love, or even affection, it was guilt. He could always count on guilt to keep her coming back to him, day after day, year after year. He made sure she never left, even if she didn't run away with him, and leave her husband, she would always come back to his bed.
"Daniel, what did you do?" she was saying as she pulled a shirt that was on the floor next to him, placing it over his bleeding face.
"Why...? Why c-cant you love me?" he cried, pulling her into a desperate hug, tightly holding on to her.
"We have to stop the bleeding, Daniel," she was saying, trying to pull herself away from his death grip.
"Love me, Ginny, don't love him, love me, love me." She knew who he was talking about, he was talking about Harry.
"Daniel, please let go of me, let me heal that cut. If we leave it too long you'll end up in St. Mungo's."
"Don't leave me, Ginny, please, don't leave me," he was still saying, unwilling to let go of her.