The cold wind bit at him like the wounds of daggers, as he slowly made his way down the snow covered path. In his gloved hand, he carried a single rose, and in his pocket a silver necklace of a broken heart lay. The blood red rose mocked the colourless surroundings, its vibrant beauty contrasting the black and white of the bare trees.
"Why can't you?" asked a desperate Ginny.
"Because this is my life, this is my destiny," Draco replied calmly, taking another sip of his brandy.
"No it's not! Listen to me Draco, you can still change your fate, you can-"
"What? Become good? Join the Order?" Draco laughed bitterly, "Ginevra, open your eyes! I'm not Potter. This is who I am, and it's not going to change. Either accept me for who I am, or leave." Shaking her head slowly, Ginny backed away from him, before turning to the door.
"That's so like you, Weasley, always thinking of goodness," he mocked, "But remember this, if you walk out that door, you will be nothing to me anymore. If we meet, I'll kill you just like I kill all the others," he told her in an emotionless voice.
"If you can say those words, then I never meant anything to you anyway," Ginny whispered, before turning the doorknob and walking out of the room.
"Identification please," a guard behind him ordered. Ignoring the other man, he kept walking.
"I said, identification please," the voice said, now with more force. The guard was met with ice grey eyes and a chilling look. Immediately backing away, the guard bowed low.
"So sorry sir, I didn't realise it was you," he apologised quickly. The other man did not respond, but turned and kept walking.
"I heard about your new…situation."
"I thought you said you would kill me if you ever saw me again," she said without looking at him, as he took a seat across from her in the small café.
"I first wanted to ask you if what I heard were true."
"Yes it is." A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes upon hearing this news.
"You whore," he sneered, "I always knew all you wanted was a fuck."
Without responding, Ginny picked up her purse and walked out of the café.
The woods surrounding the path became barer and barer, until no trees remained but only dirt and wasteland. Stepping off the designated path, he took out a small piece of parchment where a code was jotted down.
W328, it read.
Their marriage was a simple event, she in a makeshift wedding gown, and he in second-hand black robes. The war had damaged so much, that they had been lucky enough to find anything to wear.
Her mother cried from joy. He, her father and brothers smiled contentedly. The few guests there all congratulated them and cheered as happily as they could. Only she had no trace of happiness on her face.
Walking down the rows, he counted until reaching twenty-three. Then he proceeded to turn and walk down the endless aisles, carefully counting each aisle as he went. Thirty minutes went by until he reached the number he was looking for.
Sliding his hands down her milk white skin, he kissed every curve. She had come to him that night. He had wanted to deny her, wanted to reject her like how she rejected him. But he couldn't. Instead they had joined in passion, in want, and in love, an emotion foreign to him. One night to last a lifetime, a night that they knew they could never repeat. In the cover of night, they lay in each other's arms, hoping that the sun never rose again. But, too soon, the rays of the morning sun interrupted them, and forced the lovers apart. It would be the last time he ever saw her.
Crouching down, he placed the rose on top of the dirt. Charmed to live for as long as he still loved her, the rose would never die.
He had received a letter that day. A letter for which he had known the contents even before opening it. Ginevra had been killed today. While sitting in a café, death eaters had attacked and Bellatrix Black had ruthlessly murdered her. His eyes were dry.
A burning sensation was felt on his arm, a pain too common to Draco now. The Dark Lord was calling for them.
"…We are victorious," Voldemort had told them. Yes, the death eaters and the dark side had finally defeated the Order. All the dead were to be inventoried and placed in mass graves, including Ginevra. He had seen her lifeless body being hauled away like trash, and being dumped into the growing pile of bodies. A silver glint at her neck caught his eye, and he had quickly rushed forward to claim the necklace.
The day she had died, Ginny had asked him to meet her at the café, saying to him that she had something important to tell. Though known as a cautious woman, Ginny had left a message for him, if something were to go wrong. Once taking the necklace, it had told him everything he needed to know.
Kneeling at the grave, silent tears fell down his cheeks. Below him there lay two people. One, the woman who had meant the world to him, and two…his unborn child. Ginevra Molly Finnigan had married another, but had carried his child. Their only night together had miraculously resulted in another life. A life that he would never be able to witness come into the world.
She had offered him redemption, love, and a new life, but he had rejected it. They could have survived the war, but his decision had destroyed all the possibilities. Regret had been a common emotion these past years, a constant companion for him. For five years, he had kept the necklace, unable to let it go. It was his last link to her. Taking the necklace out of his pocket, he took one last deep breath, before gently setting it down next to the rose. Then, quietly standing up, he walked away.
In the field of anonymous tombs, before the grave marked only by the code W328, lays a bleeding rose and a shattered heart.
fin
Author Notes: I was in the mood for an angsty one-shot, rather different than my other story, so tell me how you felt about it