As if he'd actually cared. Why did I insist on fooling myself? Why did I insist to everyone that, no, he hadn't abandoned me? Because it's true. No matter how angry I was, I'd never make him look like that in front of everyone. I'd never tell them how much I was hurting inside, because of him. No one had to know.

I'd never admit it, how much I missed him. I'd never admit to the weakness I felt, being in love. Or how much I needed to feel his arms around me. Or how even though I smiled for everyone, inside I was empty. Never admit that I'd been broken. I was much to prideful for that.

A part of me, and I have no idea how large a part that was, believed that he'd come back. Alive. Him disappearing after the war....I no longer cared about that. I just wanted him back. Now.

I ran my hands through my red hair, getting agitated, just like I did every time I thought of him. The fact that I didn't know where he was was in itself maddening. The fact that I didn't know if he was alive wherever he was was enough to kill me. I'd give everything to have him back. A year is a long time when you want something.

I needed to distract myself. I picked up my wand and started tidying up my small little house. Dust there....straighten that picture....wash the dishes....

Well, that took all of five minutes. I gave a frustrated sigh. It really didn't help that the dust was on his Quidditch trophy, or that the crooked picture was of me and him on our last day at Hogwarts, or that the dishes were from his mother. Everything in my house was in some way reminiscent of him. Yet I refused to get rid of a thing. How aggravating of me. It's like I enjoy torturing myself.

Hermione had told me, very gently, I must add, "You mustn't be foolish, Ginny. You can't hold on forever."

I'd snorted, and informed her that, yes, I damn well could.

I stretched. How late was it? No telling, on my nights when I missed him, I lost track of--Great Merlin, that late? I think one in the morning is a good time to go to bed.

I yawned and adjusted my large t-shirt...which, of course, belonged to him. The shorts, thankfully, were mine. As I walked to my room, continued my earlier thoughts.

I knew the reason he'd most likely left. They were after him, perhaps. I wouldn't doubt it. He'd betrayed them, something which angered them, obviously. But, somehow, that didn't comfort me.

I continued on to my room, having stopped to look at a picture of the face I missed so much. There he was, smirking at me with a raised eyebrow. He winked coyly at me with one molten silver eye, flicking his blond hair out of his eyes.

I turned away from the picture, hating the tears that threatened to fall.

I pause before opening my bedroom door, for a reason I still don't know. I walked in, turning to get in my bed. I almost screamed.

My heart stopped, then went into erratically beating mode. There, sprawled elegantly out on my bed, I met the ice blue, silver eyes that I missed so much. They looked at me, with the same love they'd shown a year ago. He said nothing; no explanation was needed at the moment. I stared at him, hand over my mouth, for a while. He met my eyes. Then realization hit me: he was not a hallucination. He hadn't abandoned me. I sprung into action. An excited exclamation left my mouth, almost a dry sob.

"Draco!"

And I flung myself at him, happier than I'd been in a year.

Fin


I have no clue what possessed me to write this. It was a spur of the moment thing, so don't expect it to be perfect. Lemme know what chya think!

--Paris:]

I, of course, own nothing. Do I ever?