Chapter 9
Draco eyed his date from across the table. She'd been quiet and subdued since he'd picked her up, but he could also tell that it wasn't because of him. Although perhaps he wasn't really helping the situation. He didn't know why he had been driven to take the youngest Weasley out, but he was, and that was good enough. There was something about her, despite the tough as nails exterior, that made her seem vulnerable in some way. He could recognize the War scars, even without pursuing her. They had been left on anyone old enough to remember it. Which was pretty much everyone these days. But hers were different, not the horrors of battle, the horrors of the after effects. The bodies carted in to be put back into one piece, the hexes to fix. Healers had the dirtiest jobs of them all. The difference between Ginny Weasley and other Healers he'd known though, was that they had all been able to deal with what they saw. They faced their fears and their foes and came out on top. She hadn't. She couldn't deal with the past.
When she sighed into her wine glass the fortieth time, he decided it was time to do something about this melancholy.
"Look, I know I'm not exactly the most wonderful date, but I didn't think I was that boring." He said, trying to lighten the mood. She looked up, startled.
"What?"
"You've been glum all night. If you sigh into that glass one more time, you're going to fall into it." He told her, smiling. She smiled a little back at him.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Really, I am. And it's not you. So far, this evening has been very enjoyable. It's just that…well, I have some other things on my mind, and they're depressing."
"I'm sorry. Would you like to talk about it?"
"I would, but I don't think you'll be able to help, and I doubt you'd be interested."
"Everything about you interests me." He hadn't meant for that to sound so corny, but he couldn't take it back, now that it had been said. She was eyeing him curiously, but she didn't look hostile, like she had before. After careful consideration, she seemed to come to a decision.
"It's Samantha."
"Is something wrong?"
"No…not wrong. But not really right either. She was asking me about her father today."
"Oh."
"It's not like I didn't know she would eventually ask questions about him, I'd just hoped it would be a few years from now, when she was old enough to understand what had gone on." Ginny said, frowning somewhat. "But then again, I suppose even when she's old enough, she'll never fully understand, will she?"
"Possibly not. What did you say to her?"
"I gave some flim flam story about how sometimes Daddies aren't always around because they haven't found their children yet. She bought it, and I wasn't exactly lying, but it's made me think about how I'm going to explain everything in detail to her when she asks more questions. Which she undoubtedly will, someday."
"I see."
"It's not like I can tell her that he's dead, or that we don't love each other anymore, like most parents. My problem is, I have no idea who he was. So I can't find out if he's dead, or married, or whatever."
"You really have no clue who could have been the father?"
"None."
"What about counting back, you know, narrowing it down to whoever you slept with during the month you conceived?"
"That would be a good plan, except that I carried her for eight months, to my knowledge. She could have been early, right on time, or late. I just don't know."
"So you don't even have a ballpark figure."
"No."
"Hm. Tricky."
"You're telling me."
"Isn't there some sort of Muggle procedure for determining parentage? DNA testing, or something?" Ginny thought a moment, and nodded, but she didn't look hopeful.
"There is, but to get a result, you need some DNA to match it up with. I don't have that. Or a way of getting it. I'm in for a rough time in a couple of years. But I'll manage, somehow."
"I'm sure you will."
"You have a lot of confidence in me, for someone who hated my guts when we were kids."
"Oh, well, I can explain that. I didn't hate you, per se, I hated Weasleys."
"Why?"
"Because my father said so. And in those days, when my father said jump, I asked how high on the way up."
"What changed?" Draco thought for a moment. There had been a lot of good reasons that he'd changed over the years. The biggest one was sitting right across from him.
"I grew up, I guess."
