He held onto her hand for dear life, almost as though he was attempting to transfer some of his life into her so that she could hold on a little longer. One more day, another hour, a few more minutes, a fraction of a second. He'd take anything. His tears threatened to flow freely despite his attempts to stay strong for a little while longer. The blond man used to be so cold, so unforgiving and so expressionless at one point in his life, but the redhead lying in the bed beside him had changed all of that. Because of her, he had learned how to feel, how to live. He dedicated his life to her. She had saved him from himself, and he was eternally grateful.

Her sharp intake of breath pulled him from his reverie. There wasn't much time left for her – he knew it, and so did she. They were both thankful for the sympathy that they had received from the healers. Despite her ailing health, they had allowed him to take her home, to live out her last breaths in a place that made her feel safe and comfortable. Their home.

He felt her shiver. "Do you need another quilt, love?"

She smiled weakly and rubbed her other hand over his left forearm, her fingertips carelessly grazing over the faded scar that had once been the Dark Mark. "No, no," she said, her voice still soothing, still motherly, regardless of her weakened state. "Please just talk to me. I want to hear your voice."

There was a huge lump in his throat. What should he say? What was worthy of her last few moments of life? He wasn't even completely sure that he deserved to be holding her hand or that he was worthy of being the owner of the last voice she'd ever hear. She was so much better than him. She always had been.

"Draco?" she croaked.

He blinked away the tears that were threatening to pour. The tears he would save for later, when she couldn't see him lose control and fall apart like he so desperately needed to. He needed to let go of everything that had been building inside of him, to get his sweet release.

But now was not the time. "I'm here, Gin," he replied, swallowing down the lump in his throat. There would be a time for him to let go, but in that moment he needed to be strong for her.

A weak smile crossed her lips. "Do you remember the first time we kissed?"

Draco choked on a laugh. "I do," he said, rubbing a thumb over her hand. "I remember it like it was yesterday."

He closed his eyes, willing the images of the day to return to his mind as though he were viewing them in a pensieve. He continued to squeeze her hand, hoping that the feeling of his hand would be enough for her to hold on a little longer so that they could live out the memory together. He told her the story, knowing that by the end of it, she could be gone.

I can still remember the way you looked that night, the way my heart stopped when I saw you, even though I tried to pretend that you hadn't sparked my interest in the least. You wore a red cocktail dress and a pair of white heals that made your legs look impossibly long. Your hair had been pinned up in a sea of red curls. You were a vision, Gin, and all I could think about were your lips and how badly I wanted to kiss you.

I waited until you had been left alone. Until that point, you had always had one brother or another on your arm, protecting you from all of the men at the party who undoubtedly had their eyes on you. All I wanted was a minute so that I could tell you that you were an angel and that the way you looked would ruin me for other women forever. No one could ever match your beauty. When Bill had finally walked away from you, I approached you.

You nearly choked on your champagne as you saw me coming closer. I offered you my hand. "Dance with me?" I asked.

You stared at me as though I had grown a few extra heads, but then you broke into a smile. You took my hand, and I whirled you around, pulling you into me and dipping you back in my arms. I remember the surprised look on your face, and then the way you laughed out loud. You realized how strong my hold on you was. I think it was in that moment that you knew I'd never let anything hurt you.

I helped you stand up straight. You had opened your mouth to say something, but before you had the chance, a fist connected with my jaw.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing with my sister, you slimy git?"

"Ronald!" you cried. You pushed your brother so hard that he fell to the ground. "What are you doing? We were going to dance!"

"You and the ferret?" he asked incredulously.

You grabbed my arm, pulling yourself close to me. "Yes! Now if you'll excuse me, I have to attend to his bleeding nose before it ruins my dress."

We were seated in the garden outside the ballroom. You set my broken nose and wiped the blood off my face with a dinner napkin that you had stolen from one of the tables. "I'm sorry about that," you said. I knew you meant it, but I could still see the smile on your lips, and I could still hear the amusement in your voice. "My brother can be such an arse sometimes."

I smirked slightly at the comment. "Sometimes, eh?"

You gave me a cheeky grin. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"I can think of something," I whispered as I tilted your chin up towards my face.

Our lips inched closer and closer. I could feel your breath against my lips just before you pressed yours into mine. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was going to happen. I never wanted to kiss anyone as badly as I had wanted to kiss you in that moment. You were a mystery to me, an enigma. All I wanted was to be close to you and never let you go. Finally, you touched your lips to mine. It felt so nice to have you close to me…

Until your nose pushed into mine, painfully reminding me of my recently broken nose. "Sodding hell, you stupid awful - ow!"

You laughed at me, giggled incessantly as I screamed profanities. Through the blistering pain I was feeling, I heard your laugh. I fell in love with it, and I knew I had to hear it, to be the cause of it, for the rest of my life.

Draco squeezed her hand, no longer feeling the pressure of the returned gesture from Ginny. Hesitantly, he looked at her. Her eyes were closed lightly as she lay perfectly still in her bed. The gentle rise and fall of her chest had stopped, and he knew that she was gone forever. His angel had gone to heaven.

His will to be strong had gone. He rested his head against her chest, finally allowing the bittersweet release of his tears. All he had now were his memories. At the very least, he took comfort in knowing that the last thing she did was smile at the reminiscence of the night he had fallen in love with her, the night that she had given him a chance. At least he had that.