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Title: What Ginny Forgot
Summary: "After one too many hits to the head from a Bludger, you've forgotten the past ten years," Malfoy said slowly, staring at her as if she were dumb. "You've forgotten you have kids and you've forgotten me. Your husband. Which is rather rude, you must admit." D/G
Disclaimer: None of it is mine!
Author's Note: Eek! Okay, guys, I am so sorry! Go forth and enjoy the chapter!
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Not once during Ginny's rush to leave her house did she feel any uncertainty. No thoughts came to mind that begged her to pause, to think about what she was doing. One moment she had been staring down at Draco, tenderly looking over his sleeping form, and the next she was rushing downstairs, wand clasped in her hand and eyes blazing.
She was going to Azkaban. There was no time to hesitate. It was Christmas Eve, almost Christmas day, and she had only a few hours until her children would stir from their sleep and come running into their parents' bedroom. If Ginny was not home by then, sleeping beside her husband, the panic that would spread through their house would be catastrophic.
Of course, Ginny had realized rather quickly that she had no idea how to actually get to Azkaban. Surely, somewhere in the darkness of her mind, Ginny knew how to get to the prison. After all, Draco had a large presence there; he likely had an office, maybe even a secretary who did his bidding. It would be impractical to assume that Ginny had never gone to visit Draco at work. But the memory didn't come to Ginny, despite the few minutes she took to close her eyes and rummage through her brain in the shadows of the foyer.
Waking Draco up and asking him for instructions on how to get to Azkaban was out of the question, obviously. The whole point of this was to show Draco that she cared, that she wanted what was best for them and their family. But if she couldn't go to Draco, who could she wake up and ask?
Harry would know best, after Draco. But where was Harry right now? At his flat or at Shell Cottage with Pansy? Did Ginny have time to go from one spot to the other, looking for him? And that was also ignoring the fact that Harry didn't have the best history of keeping Ginny's secrets. Once she left, would Harry send an owl to Draco, informing him of his wife's activities? There was Hermione, who knew almost everything and who would be more willing to keep Ginny's secret. But after their last interaction, and the memory that came along with it, Ginny wasn't sure her sister-in-law was the best choice. Even if she was, what was Ginny going to do? Go to Ron's house, wake up his wife, get directions to Azkaban, then hope for the best?
No, no, that wouldn't do.
It left Ginny with only one option, really. Stepping outside, she took a moment to inhale the brisk air. It filled her lungs, cool yet comforting. Then she Disapparated, intent on finding the one person who might help her.
~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~
Knocking on the wooden front door, Ginny bit her lip anxiously. It was almost midnight and there was absolutely no one on the streets of London. Still, Ginny found herself looking up and down the street every few seconds as she waited for the occupant of the house to wake up. She wasn't expecting anyone to pop out and scream gotcha! but she was aware that each second that passed brought her closer to being caught missing from her bed.
She gave the door another couple sharp knocks when there was no immediate response.
Being out in the silence of the streets, where the only sound was the whispers of the trees stirring, allowed doubt to creep into her mind; , something she was trying to fight. But in the silence, the thoughts brewed.
This could be the completely wrong thing to do. Draco could hate her for visiting Azkaban without her having told him first. He could hate her for going on Christmas Eve, abandoning his side and their children to sneak away. Ugh, she almost hated herself for doing it, now that she had left. There was a chance that Draco wouldn't understand why she had wanted to see Lucius. She didn't even know the history between her and Draco when it came to Lucius; she didn't remember every fight they had about his father and Draco's visits to the prison.
This was taking a leap of faith… that could end everything.
After all, this visit could go horribly. Lucius could see her and instantly send her away. He could tell Narcissa about her midnight visit before Ginny had a chance to tell Draco, and then everything would be out of her hands.
"What the bloody hell, I said no carolers—Ginny?"
Blaise blinked owlishly at Ginny, eyes protruding in a way that reminded her of Luna. He opened his mouth, closed it, then reached out and grabbed onto her forearm. She smiled hesitantly at his touch.
"Sorry. I know it's late."
"Late? What are you—get in here. Are you okay? Are the kids okay? Is Draco—"
"We're fine, yeah, of course," Ginny rushed to say after he pulled her into the house.
He spun her around to face him, worry painting his features. It was obvious she had woken him. Wrapped up in a robe, wearing ridiculous pink slippers, Blaise blinked away sleep as he tried assessing her.
"You're okay?" he asked again.
She nodded.
"But you're here. On Christmas Eve."
"Technically it's Christmas Day," she responded, nodding towards the clock that hung in his entranceway.
A frown twisted his lips.
"Did you and Draco fight?" Blaise questioned.
"No. Look, I—I need a favor."
Any sleep that lingered on Blaise's face disappeared abruptly. He released his hold on her and stepped back, eyebrows furrowing. She wasn't sure what he could possibly be thinking right now. Ginny had changed quickly from her pajamas back into her outfit from the party, but she hadn't bothered with makeup or brushing her hair. And here she was, standing in his entryway with no warning, asking for a favor on Christmas.
"You know, you could've Flooed here," he told her.
"I assumed," she answered lightly. "I couldn't remember your address. For whatever reason, it's easier for me to think of a place and Apparate."
A tiny smirk replaced the frown that marred his face.
"Ah, yes, forgot about that. Does Draco know you're here asking me for favors?" Blaise paused. "Did you forget to buy him a Christmas present? I'm sure I could think of a few nonmaterial things he would enjoy."
Despite the nonchalance of his tone, Ginny knew Blaise's mind was rapidly processing the situation. She bit her lip and stepped further into his house. It forced him to move with her, though the loud sigh he let out informed her that he wasn't happy about this.
"You can't tell Draco I'm here."
Ginny looked up at Blaise in time to see the emotions clear from his face.
"Ginny…"
"I know," she interrupted, waving her hands to stop him from continuing.
If there was one thing Ginny truly remembered from the past ten years, it was that Blaise hated being dragged into the middle of Draco and Ginny's relationship. Despite the fact that he had a permanent spot in their family, Blaise was still Draco's good friend and rarely wanted to go against him. But he was her only choice right now.
"I know that I've probably said that to you before. I know that you probably dread these moments. But, look, okay, I don't remember any of the other times I've asked you not to tell Draco something. And I wouldn't ask you to keep something from him now without it being serious."
Blaise inclined his head, giving her permission to continue speaking.
"I just… I know I've really messed stuff up the past few years. And I think I've found a way to fix things. But I need your help with it."
"Fix what things?"
"My marriage, for starters."
A flash of surprise flitted across Blaise's face, tearing apart the blank mask he wore. Blaise went to speak but, once again, nothing came out. It was a topic they never discussed; Blaise had no reason to believe that Ginny knew something had been wrong with her marriage before the memory loss.
"What have you remembered?" he asked.
"Enough," she replied shortly.
There wasn't time to get into everything that she had remembered.
"I heard you and Draco talking, earlier, when you were both outside," Ginny said.
"You heard us?"
Blaise seemed torn between amusement and dismay. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall.
"And you decided now's the time to bring this up?" Blaise narrowed his eyes at her pointedly as he spoke.
Without permission, a smile brightened her face.
"There was no point to bring it up any earlier. You were mad at me, anyway, so there were more important things on my mind. Blaise… I know that things weren't right between me and Draco before the accident, but I know things are better now. I—" Ginny inhaled sharply through her nose. "I really care for him."
"You care for him?" he echoed.
Her cheeks warmed under his dubious stare. A flash of memory came to her then; the dizzy feeling that had washed over her when she realized she loved Draco. She cleared her throat, aware of the knowing smirk that curled on Blaise's lips.
"Yes. I want to prove to him that I want this to work between us. Memories keep coming back so quickly and randomly, and… I want to make sure when everything comes back that he knows I care about him."
"He knows that."
The three words were spoken quietly, so quietly that Ginny would've been uncertain Blaise even spoke them if she hadn't seen his mouth move. Her stomach squeezed and tears blurred her vision. She nodded, taking a moment to wipe at her eyes.
Their conversation seemed to resolve something for Blaise. He stepped up to her, taking a hold of her hands. His touch was kind and familiar; she relaxed instantly as she looked up at him.
"How can I help?" Blaise asked.
Ginny licked her lips.
"I want to go to Azkaban to see Draco's father." She stopped, hesitating. Then, "Tonight."
Blaise went as still as a statue. If it weren't for his fingers squeezing her own slightly, she would've thought she had somehow hexed him. This wasn't good.
"Blaise?"
Her call snapped him out of it. He let out a sharp laugh but didn't drop her hands.
"Really, what do you need me to do?"
"I'm serious," Ginny persisted. "I want to go right now. I need you to tell me how to get there."
The ticking of the clock was the only thing Ginny could hear in the silence as Blaise's gaze roamed her face. Then he dropped her hands and tilted his head.
"How is seeing Lucius going to help anything with Draco right now? You realize he's not fond of his father?"
A wave of relief washed over Ginny. She hadn't been sure Blaise would even listen to her when she first breeched the subject of going to Azkaban. For him to be questioning her, not her sanity but whether this was something Draco would want, meant everything.
"I know I've never been before to see Lucius. I know I've always given Draco hell for taking the children to see him. And—and I don't want to see him, I don't, but I think it will mean a lot to Draco to know I went out of my way to… to accept Lucius."
"To accept Lucius."
Ginny rolled her eyes.
"Stop repeating everything I say. You can't deny that Draco's always looked up to Lucius. I, I don't know, I just think if I were to go and learn more about him and… I'm not sure I could forgive him, but, maybe, we could have a civil conversation... I think Draco would like that. I think Draco would like if I started going to these visits with him and the kids. But I need to do it alone the first time."
"On Christmas Day?"
She nodded slowly. Uncertainty nipped at her, and she broke eye contact, looking instead at the ground. A dull ache pulsed through her head, in time with the ticking of the clock. It reminded her both of the minutes passing by and the headache that had plagued her since before she left the house.
"It's been over a week now since the accident. I feel like I'm running out of time."
When she looked up, their gazes locked. Understanding dawned on Blaise, loosening the hard press of his lips and the sharp dive of his eyebrows. She knew Blaise was recalling what Draco had said earlier in the day, the conversation which Ginny had listened in on.
I'm trying but time is running out. I can feel it. I can see it, when I look at her—
Then he cleared his throat and nodded.
"Let me change."
Blaise had already started up the stairs, his slippers softening the sound of his footsteps as he made his way up.
"Oh, no, Blaise! You don't need to come! I only need to know how to get there!" Ginny yelled up the staircase when his form disappeared from view.
She could hear him easily, though. He made a loud scoffing sound.
"Not coming? Are you mad? When Draco finds out about this, I'm not about to let him know I let you wander off to Azkaban by yourself—" His voice became muffled. Ginny could only assume he was pulling a shirt on or off. "—Of course, he might kill me either way. You two are absolute nutters, you realize. Who thinks going to Azkaban is going to prove anything to their significant other? Though, I suppose, not many people have parents locked away—"
His words became louder, and then Ginny heard him coming down the stairs. When Blaise appeared before her, the robe and slippers were gone, replaced with an outfit similar to her own, except all black. An eyebrow rose as he came to stand beside her.
"We'll have to Apparate to the main office and hope someone is there to open the network so we can get to Azkaban," Blaise informed her briskly. "It is Christmas, though. And past midnight. You didn't think this through very well, did you?"
The fact that Blaise was coming with her—that he had accepted everything she had said, had taken the time to listen to her instead of rushing to write to Draco—made Ginny move without thinking. She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest. Blaise sighed, hugging her back.
"Come on, then. We've got a prison to break into."
"That's bit dramatic, don't you think? We're not breaking into anything," Ginny muttered as she stepped back.
"A bit dramatic, yes, but it sounded good."
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They used Side-Along Apparition to get to the main office. It was a rundown building, surrounded by Muggle shops. She had no idea where they were. Were they still in London or further away? Walking closer to the building, Ginny noticed signs in the front windows stating that the business had declared bankruptcy and was awaiting government action.
Blaise looked at Ginny from the corner of his eye, and she nodded, mostly to herself. Though she was determined to get to Azkaban, apprehension was growing inside of her. It didn't matter, though; Ginny had made her choice. Stepping forward, Ginny tugged at the front door. It opened easily.
They shared a look before Blaise reached over to hold the door open for her. Ginny rolled her eyes and a sharp grin came to his lips.
"Ladies first," he told her, waving her in.
Once Ginny entered the building, a wave of heat hit her. She was thankful for it; a deep chill had settled in her bones, though she had a feeling it had little to do with the temperature outside. If this all went wrong, if Draco was stirring from his sleep right now… Ginny raised a hand to her forehead, applying pressure to the persistent throbbing as she forced the thoughts away.
The front doors opened to something akin to a waiting room. Ginny immediately thought of St. Mungo's lobby. Chairs lined the walls, separated only by the occasional table that held various magazines or children's toys. The wall adjacent to the chairs had three fireplaces built in; there were no fires lit in the grates. A large desk, likely where the receptionist would normally sit at, was on the far side of the room. Visitor Center was spelled out in elegant, gold letters across the front.
She looked away, back towards the sitting area.
Picture frames adorned the walls. Walking further into the room, she saw that some frames held pictures of strangers, all smiling and waving. At the bottom, she read the plaque that named them as various employees of the prison. Other frames were of employees with prisoners, talking or reading together, nodding and in general agreement with each other. The plaque at the bottom of each frame mentioned the rehabilitation programs in place: reading and educational programs, programs to help with reentry into the wizarding world, programs where older prisoners offered guidance to younger prisoners under the watchful eye of an employee.
One picture was of Draco, unsmiling as he led a group through a room filled with prisoners. He was pointing and talking to the people beside him. Her eyes traveled over his face; he looked tired.
Ginny was so distracted by the photograph of her husband she didn't notice that someone had arrived in the reception area until she heard a soft gasp. Jumping, Ginny turned quickly and knocked into Blaise, who had been following behind her closely.
A young woman stood behind the desk. A dark hijab showcased a familiar face that made Ginny almost drop her wand.
"Asma?" Ginny called hesitantly.
Asma Rahman had been a younger girl when Ginny went to Hogwarts, a Ravenclaw. She had joined Dumbledore's Army during Ginny's sixth year and had helped graffiti the Entrance Hall beside Ginny and Neville a handful of times. Honestly, Ginny hadn't thought of her in ages. But it was obvious Asma remembered Ginny well; she rushed from behind the desk, hands stretching out to clasp Ginny's own.
"Ginny!" she cried out. "I wasn't sure when I'd be seeing you next!'
She let go of Ginny, examining her quickly. Ginny's mind whirled. What was Asma talking about? Did they see each other often?
"I remembered, back in June, that you said you'd be back during Christmas. I hadn't been sure when, though—" Asma stopped abruptly, as her eyes fell on Blaise.
Something strange passed over Asma's face and she took a step away from Ginny. Ginny frowned at the change in Asma's demeanor. Asma had been saying that Ginny told her she'd be back during Christmas… back where? Back here?
Her heart raced and she looked up at Blaise; he looked as confused as she felt.
"So," Asma started, drawing the word out. "I, uh—"
It was obvious Asma wasn't sure what to say now that she saw Blaise. Ginny acted on instinct. Reaching out, she placed her hand on Blaise's arm and smiled widely.
"Asma, have you met Blaise Zabini? He's one of my dearest friends. He offered to accompany me tonight. I've been feeling a little under the weather."
The lie came easily, but her breath caught in her throat as the last word left her mouth. Asma made it seem as if Ginny had planned on coming back to this office around Christmas. She hadn't even been surprised to see Ginny show up in the middle of the night! It wasn't hard to deduce that, for whatever reason, Ginny was supposed to be here right now. Blaise, however, wasn't supposed to be with her.
Ginny could only hope that Asma believed her lie.
Finally, after a long moment, Asma gave a hesitant nod.
"I remember you from Hogwarts," she allowed. "You've… never brought someone else with you before."
Ginny forced the smile to remain on her face.
"I know. I should've let you know—"
"I'm sorry if I startled you," Blaise cut in, flashing a handsome smirk at Asma. "I've met you here before, though, with Draco. Haven't I?"
Asma scanned his face before nodding. Her face relaxed as she smiled.
"Yeah, I think so. At last year's employee event. Mr. Malfoy had brought you as his guest, hadn't he?"
Blaise's smirk grew.
"Yes, of course. You've worked under him for years now, haven't you?" Before she could answer, Blaise inclined his head towards the reception desk. "We should get on with this, shouldn't we? Time is of the essence."
Asma laughed and agreed. She led them over to the desk and they followed a few steps behind her.
"You're right. That is one of the higher-ups' favorite mottos around here. I mean, I get it, of course. Each visitation is slotted for a specific time to make sure there are never any attempts at—"
"What are you playing at?" Ginny barely heard Blaise's words over Asma's rambling.
"What do you mean?" she whispered back, glaring at him. "I've never been here before!"
"That's clearly a lie."
Ginny faltered, unsure of what to say.
"She says you told her back in June you'd be here for Christmas. Why were you visiting here without Draco—"
Blaise cut off abruptly when Asma stopped speaking. Both Ginny and Blaise put on large smiles when she turned to face them.
"Your time slot isn't usually for another half hour but since you're here now I'll bump it up. Not like many people are visiting Lucius Malfoy this time of night."
Asma had stepped behind the reception desk as she spoke. Pulling out her wand, she waved it silently several times. Ginny wasn't sure what Asma was doing from where she stood. After a moment, Asma cleared her throat and pointed distractedly behind Blaise and Ginny. Glancing over her shoulder, Ginny saw that one of the three fireplaces was now lit.
"That'll take you over. The guard will be receiving notice that you brought Mr. Zabini with you, but he won't be allowed very far, of course. I'll see you when you're done, then?"
Ginny wasn't sure what to say but it didn't matter. Blaise had pressed his hand into the small of her back and began to lead her towards the lit fireplace. They didn't bother looking at each other as they left the desk, all too aware of Asma's eyes on their backs. Without hesitation, Blaise entered the fireplace. The green flames licked at him as he turned to Ginny. Meaningfully, he slowly spoke.
"Azkaban Visitor Entrance."
He disappeared in a flash.
Ginny went to follow him but stopped. She looked over at Asma, who had picked up a magazine and was flipping through it.
"Asma?" Ginny called.
The woman looked up, automatically smiling.
"Draco doesn't mind… all of this?" Ginny asked, twisting her hands in front of her.
Perhaps Ginny had read the situation wrong with Draco. Maybe she had been to Azkaban before, by herself, and he knew she preferred to go alone. Perhaps he had even told her it was best to visit Lucius without him being there. It didn't make sense and it didn't settle right in Ginny's stomach but she was half desperate for Asma to agree that, of course, Draco didn't mind.
Asma laughed in surprise.
"If it were any other prisoner, I'm sure he wouldn't mind too much," Asma replied. "Go on, Ginny, before the network closes."
Fuck.
Ginny stepped into the fireplace, her nails digging into her palms as she balled her hands into fists.
Fuck. This wasn't her first time visiting Lucius Malfoy at Azkaban. It wasn't her first time doing this and Draco didn't know about any of the visits and… Her head raged as dread washed over her.
"Azkaban Visitor Entrance."
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When Ginny stumbled out of the fireplace, she almost tumbled to her knees. She felt nauseated and it had nothing to do with the journey through the Floo. Ginny had visited Lucius before. This wasn't her first time. Was it purely coincidence that she wanted to go to Azkaban tonight—during the time that Asma had been expecting her? Was that possible? No, of course not. It was more likely that, somehow, her mind had been pushing her in this direction.
Blaise caught her before she could hit the ground, straightening her. His gaze was piercing as he looked her over but there was concern twisting his lips also.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked.
Ginny looked around, breathing out shakily. They were in a small room, which only contained four chairs pushed against a wall, a door, and a man who sat in a chair beside the door. She looked over the man, who was old and seemed as though he was just woken from a nap, before she met Blaise's eyes.
"No," she admitted. "Blaise, what does this mean?"
Blaise shook his head.
"It means you haven't been very honest with Draco," he replied slowly. "If you go, if you go to see Lucius, you're just… you're following some path you've already gone down. Ginny, you've been here before. This isn't your first time—"
"Ma'am? Excuse me, ma'am?" The guard at the end caught their attention. "You're going to cut into your timeslot. I suggest you hurry along now. The gentleman will be here when you're done."
Inhaling shakily, Ginny stepped away from Blaise. She couldn't ignore his eyes burning her flushed face, but she tried her hardest as she stepped around him and towards the guard. Blaise was right, of course. By doing this, Ginny was following a path she had already taken. But it was a path she didn't remember, and the curiosity overwhelmed her to find out why she had decided to continue visiting Azkaban without Draco's knowledge—for this had to be the second time, at least.
The guard stood from his seat as she approached and held out his hand expectedly. When Ginny stared blankly, he let out a loud sigh.
"Wand."
Ginny fought the natural instinct to take hold of her wand and run away. It was unnatural for a witch to be without her wand. And in Azkaban? She shivered. But, when she remembered how much time she was wasting, Ginny grabbed her wand from inside her cloak and presented it to him. The old man mumbled something, and then raised his hand into the empty space beside him. Ginny's eyebrows furrowed as she watched his movements. It was as though there was an invisible cabinet beside him and he was opening the drawers of it.
When he lifted her wand and dropped it, it disappeared into thin air. Ginny's jaw dropped in alarm but no sound came out.
"Merry Christmas," he muttered. "Wand will be here when you're done with your visit."
The old man reached behind him without looking and pressed his wand to the door. It was then that Ginny realized it wasn't a normal door like she had originally believed. There was no doorknob to grab onto; there seemed to be no real way to open it. As the thought crossed Ginny's mind, the door suddenly disappeared, just as her wand had done.
Ginny stepped through the doorway, which led to what appeared to be an elevator. She took a deep breath and turned around. Across the room, she saw Blaise watching. She looked away, shame washing over her. Even Blaise hadn't known about her past visits to Azkaban.
The door reappeared, blocking Blaise from view. With a jolt, the elevator began to move, though Ginny had no sense of whether she was going up or down. When the elevator came to an abrupt stop, the door disappearing a second later, Ginny almost ran out. She froze when she felt eyes on her.
Two guards stared at her. They stood beside a door.
"No one likes that elevator," the female guard told her, trying not to smile.
"That's sort of the point of it, ain't it?" the other guard, a man, replied. Then, "Come along. I'll take you to the prisoner."
The man and woman pressed their wands to the door and it clicked open. When the man went through the doorway, Ginny followed. There were doors on every side and an empty chair beside each door. The corridor was well lit, making the yellow paint on the wall almost blinding.
Yellow? Really? Who chose that color?
After a minute of terse silence, the guard stopped in front of a door. He pressed his wand to the door before taking a seat in the chair beside it. Ginny could hear the locks being turned from her spot in the corridor; it reminded her of Gringotts and the many charms and locks their vault doors have. When the sound stopped, the handle of the door turned. Glancing at the guard, who seemed almost bored, then back at the door, Ginny ran her hands self-consciously over her jumper. Then she opened the door.
The room was dark; the light that spilled in from the hall only lit up a section of it. It did little to ease the worry that filled her. All she could see was the floor—which was either cement or a dull, gray tile—and a sliver of the wall—which was white and plain. Ginny's breath caught in her throat as she hesitated in the doorway. She could feel the guard's eyes on her, though, and knew if she didn't want to raise any more suspicion she had to go in.
She entered the room completely. The door swung shut behind her, closing with a quiet click. Ginny knew, without a doubt, if she looked for a doorknob to escape she wouldn't find one.
This was it. She had wanted to come to Azkaban, she had wanted to see Lucius Malfoy, she had wanted to prove to Draco that she cared for him—and here she was. In a dark cell, unable to tell if the man she loathed to call her father-in-law was right in front of her or not. As that thought raced through her mind, cloaking her in fear, several lanterns that hung on the walls came to life.
Startled by the sudden light, Ginny jumped, her hand pressed against her chest as she quickly searched the area.
But… no one was in the room with her. The room was small and plain. There were several chairs scattered about, but they were as plain as the white walls and cement floors. If this was a cell, Ginny was partially worried that the prisoners were being mistreated for how much it was lacking. More importantly, if this was a cell, Ginny wondered where, exactly, her father-in-law was. He wasn't hiding behind any of the chairs. As there was nothing else in the room other than the chairs and the lanterns, she wondered if she was in the wrong place.
The idea of opening the door and asking the guard outside was unappealing enough that Ginny sat in one of the chairs with a sigh. Running a hand over her face tiredly, her mind drifted once again to the information she had learned from Asma. What had she been thinking before her accident—
"Daughter," a voice called.
Ginny almost screamed. She knew that voice, despite the light, mocking lilt. But—but there was no one in the room with her.
It was then that a ripple went through the wall she was facing. Ginny stared in wonder as another ripple appeared.
"Tell me," Lucius' voice ordered as the wall in front of her began to disappear. "What was the weather like today?"
She couldn't help staring in amazement. The wall was completely gone, and now she could clearly see into the cell that held her father-in-law. Tiny but well kept, the cell was homier than Ginny expected. There were several shelves that held books. A small desk with a chair where Lucius could write or read by candlelight was pushed against a wall. And, of course, there was a twin-size bed on the opposite side of the cell. On it sat Lucius Malfoy, his face turned towards her. Ginny wondered if she had startled him by arriving unannounced, if he had been laying down for bed when he was abruptly informed of a visitor.
He readjusted himself on the bed so he was facing her completely and Ginny fought the urge to lean away from him. His silver blonde hair was still long but wasn't pulled back from his face like Ginny had seen when she was younger. It was clear that Azkaban had aged him, despite all of Draco's attempts to make it less of a torture chamber and more of a rehabilitation center. Heavy wrinkles decorated his forehead. There were wrinkles by his mouth also, as if he were constantly pulling his lips into a frown.
But he was still, without a doubt, the man she remembered from Flourish and Blotts, fighting with her father. He was still the man who had given her a diary that he knew would likely kill her, still the man who had molded Draco into who he was today, still the man who had fought till the end for Voldemort.
Ginny forced herself to take a deep breath. She knew that the wall was still there, that there was no way for Lucius to leave his enclosure. But it was deceiving to see nothing blatantly stopping him from approaching. Tilting her head, she saw a flash of light, as if the flames had reflected off glass.
It helped her relax.
"Lucius Malfoy," she murmured, hating the awe that colored her words.
Lucius frowned.
"Answer my question."
Ginny hesitated.
"It was… nice," she began but stopped when darkness clouded his face.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
"Surely you know a better word than nice," Lucius hissed. "Have you forgotten your whole vocabulary so quickly? Describe it to me."
She fought the urge to bare her teeth in a snarl. Ginny wasn't here to fight with him. Straightening in the chair, Ginny forced her eyes away from his and looked out the tiny slit he had for a window. There was no way Lucius could see what it looked like outside from that window. Questioning her on the weather was the only way he would ever know what it was like outside. If she didn't describe it well, he would be forced to make it up himself, which she was sure he did each day he didn't have a visitor.
"It was cloudy in the morning," she began hesitantly. "B—but there wasn't a cold breeze like there has been the past few days. And, um, by noon the clouds had begun to break up enough that the sun could peek through. The snow began to melt a bit, too."
He closed his eyes as he listened, taking in every word she said. Ginny watched curiously, and, when he didn't react further, she continued.
"It was the first time I had felt the sun on my face in what's felt like ages now," she admitted.
Lucius let out a long breath through his teeth, sounding similar to a snake.
"I can relate."
Ginny's face flushed as she realized her mistake. Of course, Lucius would've gone much longer without feeling the sun on his face. She was such an idiot. He didn't seem to mind her blunder too much, however, for he continued speaking.
"And how did it feel?"
The urge to examine each word before she let it escape her lips—why she hadn't done that yet, she wasn't sure—was overwhelming, but it didn't latch on. As she stared at her father-in-law, she realized what she was seeing before her : a caged animal asking for some sort of relief. And it felt wrong to not give that to him, even if he was a monster.
Somewhere, deep inside of her mind, she knew that this was a normal occurrence between them. Ginny knew she had yet to deny him his request, even when he was being particularly arrogant or rude. And it was easy to understand why; once this meeting was over, she would be able to get out and feel the wind on her face or the sun on the back of her neck. And he never would.
"It felt like… a break in the middle of a storm. The air was still cold and it made my eyes sting and water but… but the sun warmed my skin. I could smell raw magic in the air, where I was, and the heat of the sun only intensified it."
He opened his eyes as she continued.
"It's cloudy again, though. I think it might snow soon."
"Fascinating. Now, what brings you to my doorstep on this lovely night?"
"It's Christmas."
Her answer was a lie and fell from her lips without conviction. But what else was there for her to say? Certainly not the truth.
"Indeed, it is. I often forget how very observant you are."
Fighting the desire to clench her hands into fists, Ginny lifted her chin defiantly. A single, blond eyebrow rose high on his forehead at the action.
Though there was light in the room, long shadows still darkened the cell. It made it hard to distinguish the differences between the man before her and the husband she had left at home. They were eerily similar. While at dinner that night, Ginny had thought how alike in looks Draco was to his mother; she wondered if she had been horribly mistaken.
The razor-sharp line of Lucius' nose mirrored Draco's; she could remember lying in bed the other morning, fighting the temptation to trace her husband's nose with her finger. They shared the same strong jaw and wore the same frown. Worst of all, the ashy irises that stared at Ginny from the dark could easily be mistaken for Draco's—except where Draco's gaze was often soft and lovely when it fell on Ginny, his father's was probing and callous.
In one fluid motion, Lucius stood from his bed. He walked towards her casually, and Ginny hated herself for leaning back in her seat, trying to put as much space between them as possible. Stopping short of the barrier that protected Ginny from him, Lucius tilted his head to the side.
"Why are you here?" he inquired before pausing. Then, "Again? Is this the fifth time? Or the sixth?"
Her initial reasoning for seeing Lucius, of accepting him for who he was and the part he played in her life, was lost to the curiosity that overcame her at the realization that she had been to Azkaban multiple times before. Fifth time? Really? She had been here that often to see him?
Asma had been expecting Ginny to show up, late at night, at the main office in order to be transported to Azkaban. If Lucius was to be trusted, then she had been here a handful of times before. Why had she started coming here?
Perhaps it was the same as her initial reasoning to come to the prison had been. She wanted to fix things with Draco. Maybe, possibly, Ginny had simply wanted to show Draco she cared for him.
Ginny could only hope it had been exactly that.
Somewhere along the way, however, Ginny had decided to continue meeting with Lucius and keep it hidden from her husband. The implication that came with that decision made her stomach turn. There was no way for her to find out what her intentions had been until her memory returned… no way to find out unless, of course, she managed to get the prisoner in front of her to give her the information.
Even as Lucius asked her why she was visiting him again, Ginny knew he was playing some sort of game with her. The gleam in his eyes warned her that he was picking up on more than she wanted. Did she normally shy away from him when he approached? Likely not. Was there always hesitation in answering his question about the weather? Unlikely.
Despite not calling it out bluntly, Ginny had a feeling her father-in-law suspected that not all was right.
The only way Ginny could get back on a level playing field was to find out the answer to what Lucius had just asked her—why had she been visiting him so often?
"Maybe I missed your company."
The words left her lips easily, almost affectionately. They came from somewhere in her that had remained hidden until recently , the part of her mind that she feared held all the answers of the past ten years.
Lucius bared his teeth in a smile.
"I find that unlikely," he responded.
Letting out a soft breath, and praying it would take the anxiety that filled her along with it, Ginny shrugged.
"You don't give yourself enough credit," she replied cheekily.
"This isn't the most pleasant place to spend time," he remarked, spreading his arms wide.
Though the cell had seemed initially comfortable, now that Lucius stood with his arms stretched out Ginny realized how confining it was. If he were to try to pace the cell, he'd be back in front of her within a few breaths.
"Do you still find my son lacking?"
Ginny's eyes narrowed without her realizing. He was teasing her, she could tell by the way he watched her reaction, but she was certain there was something else lingering in his gaze. Had Ginny ever told Lucius that? Or was he simply saying it to test her?
"Draco's at home."
"That's not what I asked you."
"I know. You asked me why I came to visit you again."
He inclined his head in agreement. They both ignored the fact that the last question he asked concerned Draco.
"Why do you think I've come?"
Lucius made a sound in his throat.
"You're unwilling to spend time here when the children and my son visit. You prefer to come here by yourself."
Her heartbeat picked up.
"Why?"
He frowned, as if surprised by her question.
"Because you're a coward."
A sharp smile colored Lucius' face once more. Ginny's hands, still folded in her lap, were sweaty.
He wasn't going to answer her questions, she realized. As Lucius twisted each of his words to make sure they could mean a million different things, Ginny was wasting time trying to dissect what he was telling her. A flame of irritation lit inside her.
There wasn't enough time for this. She had questions she needed answers to. And Lucius Malfoy was the only one who was able to give them to her.
"You seem different, daughter."
Her hackles rose at the endearing term and she found herself suddenly, irreversibly angry. The headache beating to the rhythm of her heart didn't help her control her emotions.
"I'm not your daughter," Ginny snapped.
"Aren't you? You married into my family, you bore my grandchildren, you watch over the Malfoy name. Would your mother not consider Draco her son now? Would she not give her life for him?"
She stared in surprise. That was… not what she expected Lucius to say. He stood there expectantly. Suddenly hating that he was able to look down at her from where he stood, Ginny rose to her feet. He was still much taller than her—apparently Draco also got his height from his father—but it made her feel oddly better.
Licking her lips, she unclasped her hands and let them drop to her side.
"You would give your life for me?"
"Not much chance of that opportunity arising in here," Lucius replied dryly, but his gaze didn't leave hers. "But Narcissa… yes, I believe she would. You have a family to raise. Your advice is what our son listens to most, what he agrees with without a second thought. He trusts you."
"Narcissa would—"
"She's your mother. Call her by her proper title. It's always bothered you that I've called you my daughter, I know, but it doesn't make it any less accurate. And if you had a true upbringing in a pureblood family, you'd know that it's by far time you refer to her, and I, as your parents also."
"But Draco has never—" Ginny stopped, unsure.
Could she really claim to know what Draco did or did not do? She had only truly known him for the past week. And, tonight, he had called Molly Weasley mother…
Lucius watched her as she thought.
"You're different," he noted softly. "Much different from your last visit."
Ginny looked up at him, eyes hooded.
"Yes, I am."
"Why?"
The single word wasn't a question, not really. It was an order, a demand—he expected her to tell him.
Ginny focused on Lucius, a million thoughts racing through her head. What did she say? Did she deny it? Could he smell the uncertainty on her like a vampire could blood?
"You rather remind me of the lost girl who visited me the first time. Alone, scared, yet strangely determined…"
Lucius trailed off, but the curiosity in his words lingered between them. Ginny licked her dry lips before nodding.
"There was an accident," she admitted. "I've lost some of my memory."
"Indeed? How much memory is 'some'?"
"The last ten years."
Her answers spilled from her as though he had given her Veritaserum. But Ginny strangely didn't mind, if only because Lucius' obvious surprise was oddly satisfying.
"Before you met my son?" he murmured.
She nodded again, knowing he was referring to their relationship after Hogwarts, but said no more.
"What an interesting discovery. Could've wasted less time if you had admitted that in the beginning."
Lucius smirked.
"Thirty minutes is all we have. Might want to use it more wisely next time. Yet if you have lost the last ten years of memory, as you claim, it is so very interesting that you ended up here once again," he paused. "Without Draco."
Wasn't it? It was the same thought that had been echoing in her head since she arrived here. Clearly her brain wasn't as broken as she had assumed.
"When did this occur?"
"A week ago."
"Narcissa didn't mention this on her visit here, nor did my son."
"She doesn't know," Ginny replied cautiously, her stomach squeezing at the admission.
Lucius' gaze was piercing.
"Draco thought it ill-advised to tell his mother about your accident?"
It was as though Lucius was offended for his wife. Ginny gnawed on her bottom lip, and then forced herself to stop. She felt ridiculously like a child in front of him, and she didn't like it. Clenching her fists, she fought to gain control of the conversation.
"Why did I come here before?"
"Why did you come here now?" Lucius questioned instead. "Isn't that the real question?"
Ginny was reminded of the night Draco first kissed her in the library. She had noticed the Dark Mark that stained his arm and had asked him about it. When she inquired about whether she used to hate it when they first began dating, Draco had instead questioned if she hated it now. Her answer, that Ginny knew he was a different person than he had been when he received the branding, had seemed to settle something in his mind.
Then Draco had kissed her.
It was something she hadn't really thought of when she first lost her memory—that her decisions now were just as important as her past decisions. Her mum had warned her of it, that if she did something now she might regret it when her memory returned, but she had hardly heeded the advice.
Why had she come here?
To show Draco she supported him. One hundred percent, that was why she had decided she needed to go to Azkaban to see Lucius Malfoy. But, in some distant part of her brain, had she been pushed to leave the bed with her husband because it was her allotted time slot to sneak away from her family and see her father-in-law?
This was all so twisted.
On cue, her headache roared to life. Pressing a hand to her forehead, Ginny let her eyes close for a long moment. The darkness soothed the pain slightly. She almost felt like she could fall asleep standing there. It was quiet and cool in this room. Eventually the pain in her head might disappear. With her eyes closed, there was no need to ask questions or wonder why she was doing what she was doing. Everything could be peaceful.
"Tick tock, daughter. Time is running out."
Ginny opened her eyes and immediately met Lucius' stare. She had almost forgotten she wasn't alone.
"I want to show Draco that I'm here for him despite…" She trailed off before collecting herself. "Despite you."
Lucius' eyes narrowed.
"How very kind of you, though I must inform you that most wives are expected to accept their husbands despite what they don't, ah, like about them."
"My marriage to Draco isn't like your marriage," Ginny almost growled, defensive for reasons unknown.
"Clearly. Do you think he'll appreciate this grand gesture when you arrive home and inform him that you decided to visit his father in prison without his knowledge? I don't think I'm assuming too much when I say that Draco doesn't find me to be the most trustworthy person. Will he really be so glad that his poor, injured wife came to see me without his permission?"
Her blood boiled.
"I don't need his permission," she fumed. Then she inhaled sharply. "Is that the same nonsense you told me the first time I came to visit?"
"Nonsense or truth?"
"You're trying to mess with my head—"
"Am I? Are you worried it's working? The drivel words I speak seem strangely like the truth, don't they?"
Did they? Ginny tried to calm her breathing.
"You Weasleys always manage to bring out the worst in us," Lucius said suddenly. The cold anger had left his voice. "Even in your children… they all have such potential. Sadly, their potential is marred by what your blood brought out in them. Though pureblood, you Weasleys have always been weak and sensitive. And each of your children are the same. I can only hope Draco is doing his best to squash that out of them."
She eyed Lucius. Though the tone of his voice had changed, Ginny would be stupid to believe their sudden heated argument had left him. In the end, the only thing that bound Lucius and Ginny together was Draco. Why should it surprise her that his son was the weapon he used against her?
But… couldn't she do the same?
"Your pressure over Draco, your rule over him, it didn't work, father," she spat. His eyebrows twitched. "You don't even know Draco. He didn't become a killer, not like you. Narcissa saved him from Voldemort, she lied to protect him—"
"My goal with Draco wasn't to raise a killer, fool," Lucius snarled. "I was the killer so that he could be something more. Narcissa was always soft with the boy, but he was the only child I would allow her to bare and, in doing so, I had to give some leeway. But if you believe Narcissa didn't impose similar expectations onto our son, you must have never met my wife."
He paused.
"Draco was meant to be the winner. I didn't mind killing to make sure he ended up on top. Malfoys must always succeed, in any environment. It's in our very blood, flowing in our veins. Even now, as my son sleeps, he schemes on how to rise to the highest tier in society. And if you don't believe the same ambition is running in your children's blood, my, I'd be worried. But I knew Draco would pick a suitable wife, someone to help his status."
It was difficult to breathe but Ginny refused to show any weakness. Instead, she kept her eyes on Lucius, her expression blank. Oddly, she felt as though Draco was beside her, guiding her on how to keep calm, how not to portray any sign of emotion as his father spoke.
The feeling both calmed her and distressed her.
"And he had picked the absolute best woman, hadn't he?" Lucius sneered. "A Weasley, the shining example of what is good and right, the family that had taken Harry Potter in and sheltered him from the cruel, harsh world. And for you to have won over Potter yourself, to have made him fall in love with you because you were simply that pure… Somehow, despite being a Death Eater and despite having almost turned Potter in to the Dark Lord, despite having a father in Azkaban and a gradually diminishing estate… Draco managed to win you over. You fell in love with him. The media loved it, as did the public. They fell in love with him just as you did."
"Why are you telling me this?" she whispered, the words catching in her throat.
"Because you seem to have forgotten," he hissed. "You come in here as if this is your first time seeing me. So innocent, so very in love. Ah, yes, but you have forgotten. How convenient. Allow me to remind you. If you insist on visiting me, please, do try to retain some of the information. If I must sit here and train you how to be a Malfoy, I'd appreciate it if you actually listened."
In frustration, Ginny banged her fist against the barrier between them. It felt the same as banging her hand against glass. Sparks flew out on Lucius' side, forcing him to take a step back.
"That's not fair!" she cried out.
Then she spun on her heel, unable to look at him. What was she doing? What the fuck was she doing? This conversation with Lucius reminded Ginny harshly of all the horrible decisions she had made concerning Draco. Even in the past week, Ginny had hidden so much from him; : her knowledge of the divorce papers, her run in with Chang, her visit with Pansy.
She needed to leave, she needed—all she wanted was to see Draco right now. The burning desire to do right by Draco, the curiosity that had plagued her when she realized this wasn't her first time to Azkaban, the adrenaline that hit her when she first laid eyes on her father-in-law… it left her exhausted as she tried to steady her breathing.
Nothing about this would help her marriage. It only seemed to lead her further down the rabbit hole.
But then what Lucius said echoed in her mind.
If I must sit here and train you to be a Malfoy…
What did that mean?
Ginny turned around to find Lucius in the same spot. Head cocked to the side, he smirked at her when their eyes met.
"I—"
The door opened to her right, stopping her from speaking. The guard stuck his head in, glancing at Lucius before turning her attention to Ginny. He frowned.
"Time's up," he informed her.
Of course.
Ginny nodded to the guard before looking at Lucius. He seemed deep in thought.
Despite wanting to run from this room, from Lucius, Ginny hesitated. There were so many questions brewing in her mind that she was desperate for answers to. But there was no time. Sighing, Ginny began towards the exit before his voice stopped her.
"You want to know why I think you visit me?"
She glanced at him over her shoulder.
"I think you've finally realized that my son is a Malfoy and there is no changing that… and that your children have our blood in them too. You married my son out of love, not obligation, and while I strive to understand how my son was so stupid to propose marriage with a clouded mind, I cannot say I'm completely against it. But love made you believe that my son could change, that his last name did not define him, that it was I who made him the way he was. Of course, you're correct on some parts; I did lead my son to the path he's on now, but there are generations of Malfoys before him who have helped direct him."
He paced closer to her, and she turned to face him completely, unable to stop herself.
"I believe you realized that; while trying to convince your protective parents and your cautious brothers and your naïve friends that Draco wasn't the Malfoy they all believed him to be, you were discovering that, indeed, he was. He will bring our family's name back to honor, by any means necessary. And, along with it, he will bring my grandchildren… and you. But while most women of good nature would have baulked at the idea of their husband falling back into his father's wicked ways, you sought a different path. You sought to understand it."
A chill raced up Ginny's spine.
"My wife spoils Draco; she always has. And, perhaps, from time to time, I gave him things that weren't necessary to his success simply to see him happy. But you knew you could learn more from me about being a Malfoy than from anyone else. It is in Draco's blood, the many ways he could fulfill his duties. He is not stupid, my son. No, he is brilliant. I led him down a dangerous course that could have ended us all. It was my fault, not his, that our family was left in shambles."
His hands were pressed against the barrier between them, his eyes glowing. No sparks flew from either side, but Ginny felt as though her skin was burning.
"I can never renounce you, for I fear Draco made a better match than his mother could have, or I. You don't look to punish Draco for what is ingrained in him as others would have; you look to understand. You come to me to learn. Your sons, your daughter, will grow with the same ambition in their minds, and if you don't come to understand it now with my son how will you ever be able to properly guide them? A Malfoy man cannot survive without his wife's influence. A Malfoy child cannot survive without their mother's warnings. And, while you struggle to understand, at least you are here. Even now when your memory is gone, you have come to me to learn how to help your husband…"
She took a shuddering breath. It felt as though her insides were melting. Her face was flushed. Her hands were shaking. Ginny held Lucius' gaze for a second longer before walking out of the room.
Behind her, she was sure she heard him say, "I'll see you soon, daughter."
~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~
It was a blur, leaving the prison cell. She couldn't remember much of her walk back down the corridor with the guard, only the blinding yellow of the walls, nor much of the elevator ride, except that she stumbled into the wall when it abruptly stopped.
Blaise was pale as he waited in the chair for Ginny. He jumped up as soon as the guard holding Ginny's wand spoke. Familiar warmth cloaked Ginny as soon as she grasped her wand and she breathed easier. Rushing towards Blaise, Ginny couldn't bother with wearing a fake smile to ease his worry. All she could do was bite her lip and incline her head towards the fireplace. Nodding sharply, he helped her step into the hearth.
Did she even say goodbye to Asma?
Ginny couldn't recall. One moment she was walking out of the fireplace, shaky from the resurgence of her headache, then the next Blaise was guiding her outside. As it had earlier, the cool air helped calm her. She grabbed Blaise's hand in her own. His eyes were already on her, worried and confused.
"Are you okay?" he whispered, squeezing her hand.
She wished she could properly explain how grateful she was that he wasn't interrogating her. Blaise knew something was wrong. He had heard Asma say that Ginny had been here before. But… but he was being kind to her. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she shook her head.
"I want to go home. I can Appar—"
"Don't be foolish," Blaise interrupted briskly. "You look like death."
Not allowing her to fight, Blaise locked arms with her before Apparating.
They arrived in her front yard, close to the spot she had left from. Blaise didn't let go of her right away and she was glad because she was sure she'd fall to the ground. She felt like a fool. Embarrassment made her skin flush, and she kept her eyes lowered.
"Ginny. What did you talk about with him?"
Ginny sighed before glancing up. Blaise offered her a slight smile.
"Inquiring minds want to know," he joked.
"Blaise, I—" Ginny swallowed thickly. "Did I ruin everything? With Draco? Is that why you asked me if losing my memory was a good thing? Because I had ruined it all?"
His grip tightened on her arm.
"No," he breathed harshly. "You and Draco are both idiots, honestly. Particularly when it comes to each other. But… you have to believe me when I say nothing is ruined."
Do you still find my son lacking?
She shuddered as Lucius' words rang in her mind.
"I should—I should go. Are you going to sleep here?" she asked.
Blaise groaned, running a hand over his face. Then he shook his head.
"Fools, both of you," he told her, exasperated. "But no, I'll be going back to my house. I'll see you in the morning. Just… just take some time to think. You're not a horrible person. Whatever you were doing…"
"Visiting Draco's father in Azkaban without him knowing?"
A watery laugh escaped Ginny's lips. Blaise pressed his lips together in a hard line.
"Draco loves you. Get some sleep. We'll talk about this later… It's Christmas. Everything will be fine."
Ginny nodded. Then Blaise, with a gentle touch, pushed her towards the front door. She went without any fight, glancing back only once to see that Blaise was looking up at the sky, hands shoved in his pockets.
She headed straight for the bedroom, afraid to be left to her own thoughts. When Ginny gently pushed open the door to her room, a wave of relief threatened to engulf her when she saw Draco was still sound asleep.
As Ginny studied him, she hated herself for even considering the idea that Lucius and Draco were similar in looks. Of course, Draco carried some of the same features as his father. But the two men were nothing alike. In sleep, Draco was as gentle as she had recalled at Azkaban.
Stripping out of her clothes quickly, wondering if the stink of Azkaban had clung to the cloth, Ginny absentmindedly grabbed a large, loose shirt from a drawer and pulled it on. She smiled slightly when it fell midthigh; it was clearly one of Draco's. Then she tiptoed to the bathroom, splashing water on her face and washing her hands, her arms, glad to have any invisible residue of the prison rinsed away. When she stepped out of the bathroom, Draco hadn't moved at all.
She climbed into bed and under the covers before wrapping her arms around Draco's warm body, glad that he was here and solid and real.
Without hesitation, Ginny pressed her lips to his exposed throat. His pulse met her touch, steady. Draco's hand twitched and he shifted.
Selfishly, Ginny wanted him awake. She wanted his eyes on her so she could forget the harsh glare of his father. She wanted to hear his voice, so she could forget the accusations that Lucius had brought against her. Even if—even if they weren't as horrible as they were confusing.
"Draco," she whispered.
Her finger traced the hard line of his nose as she had thought of doing earlier, but the skin beneath her fingertips was soft. He reached up and swatted her hand away.
"Why do you do that?"
Draco's voice was heavy with sleep and Ginny found herself smiling stupidly up at him.
"You don't like it?" she asked.
"What I don't like is how wide awake you are."
One of his eyes opened to peer at her. She felt a flash of guilt course through her. He looked tired, and the eye exposed to her was bloodshot. Ginny went to move away, but it was as though he knew what she was about to do—his hand settled in the small of her back and pulled her towards him, trapping her against his chest.
She laughed in surprise.
"Is it past midnight?" Draco inquired, his other eye opening.
Ginny nodded.
He made a sound deep in his throat and shifted, allowing her to settle more comfortably against him. She was glad for many things in that moment: Draco was beside her, her children slept comfortably down the hall, the ache in her head was barely there, the questions that whirled in her mind seemed to slowly be disappearing.
When Ginny sighed against Draco's skin, his hand against her back flexed.
"Draco?"
His eyes had fluttered shut again and he was already relaxing back into sleep. When she called his name, his eyebrows rose.
"Hmm?"
"Merry Christmas."
His mouth curled into a small smile. Ginny lifted herself up on her elbows so she could press a kiss to his lips. She didn't think twice as she did it, though she supposed she should have. Would Draco be even more upset that she had kissed him after visiting Azkaban behind his back? Would he hate her for coming home, crawling into their bed, and pretending nothing was wrong whenever he found out?
Those questions eventually left her mind too, for when she went to pull away from Draco, he followed her. He was almost completely sitting up in order to capture her lips once more. The hand that wasn't on her back crept up her arm before curling in her hair, guiding her back to him.
Draco still tasted like the elderberry wine, sweet and warm. She almost felt she was becoming drunk from the taste, or, maybe, the feeling was coming to her because Draco pulled her even closer now. The hand that had been settled on her back crept up her spine, agonizingly slow. Ginny cupped his face, warmth pooling deep inside her when she felt stubble tickle her palms.
She relaxed; it felt as though the bones in her body had melted, leaving her a puddle that he was holding in place. Draco must've felt her unwind in his hands for he leaned back, his lips leaving hers. Ginny opened her eyes, ready to demand he continue kissing her, but there was a cocky smirk on his face that made her roll her eyes.
His eyes were sharp as laughter rumbled deep in his chest.
"Merry Christmas, indeed," Draco murmured.
Ginny couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. He untangled his hand from her hair and traced her jaw.
"Why are you so awake?"
Right away, her face flushed and her breath caught in her throat. She realized the smile that had come easily to her lips seconds before dropped as quickly as it had arrived. Ginny forced herself to relax. Nothing was more suspicious than reacting like that. Shaking her head, and hating the guilt that seemed permanently settled in her stomach, Ginny leaned completely against Draco. Her head was nestled under his chin and he seemed content with the position, leaning back against the headboard and embracing her loosely.
"Headache."
It wasn't a lie. The bloody pain had yet to completely leave her be, lingering since after the party.
Draco made a sympathetic noise as his fingers danced down her arm, a soothing touch that made her eyes heavy. When his fingers skimmed the swell of her breast, she inhaled sharply, but Draco did not seem intent to linger.
"Do you want a potion for it?" When she shook her head no, he nodded slightly. She could feel the movement on the top of her head. "Sleep, Gin. The children will be up soon. Mother will be coming by tomorrow and Blaise too. It will be a full house…"
She wasn't sure what he was saying anymore, her attention waning despite the fact that she had been the one to wake him from his slumber. Draco didn't seem to mind, though, if he did notice that she wasn't paying attention. He continued the steady, comforting stroking of her arm. Ginny could hear his heartbeat and the rumble of the words in his chest. If only she could fall asleep like this every night…
~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~
It wasn't the children that woke her.
No, no, though she wished it had been.
A sharp pain pulsed through her head. Ginny gasped, sitting up so quickly that the world swam before her. She clutched at her head, her fingers digging into her scalp as she squeezed her eyes shut.
What—what was happening?
This wasn't the normal headache she had been experiencing earlier. Something was wrong, something—this wasn't right—it hurt so much. It felt as though someone had hit her with a curse. She needed, she just needed—
"Draco," Ginny whimpered.
She wasn't sure he'd be able to hear her. At some point she had hunched forward, curling in on herself as she willed the pain to give her a break.
It did not listen to her, despite her mental pleas to go away.
But Draco had heard her.
His touch against her back was instant relief, reminding her that she wasn't horribly alone in this torment. But Ginny couldn't hear what he was saying to her; she could hardly focus on anything other than her skull feeling as though it was about to split in half.
She felt his fingertips against her head—so cold against her warm skin—and she met his worried gaze.
"It hurts," she gasped. "Merlin, Draco, it hurts."
"Your head?"
The two words seemed to echo in her ears, ringing.
Ginny braved a nod and it made everything tilt around her. She was falling to the side—no, no she wasn't. Draco had caught her, gently pulling her to the edge of the bed. He fell to his knees in front of her, shakily pushing her hands away from where she clutched her head. His hands replaced her own, his touch much more calming. Panic colored his face; the sight shocked her so horribly that she was able to concentrate on her husband clearly, if only for a moment.
"It's the headache from earlier?"
"All night."
"Okay," he responded briskly, his eyes darting over her face. "We'll go to St. Mungo's. I'll call for my mother—"
Ginny was already shaking her head.
There was something terrible poking at her, a warning, a sign. This wasn't a normal headache that had been haunting her all day, that caused her such agony now.
A week.
The Healer at St. Mungo's had told her she had a week until her memories returned completely. And she had been pushing it off, hadn't wanted to learn the truth of her past, not like she should've. What if this was it? It had been past a week now and she hardly remembered anything. It wasn't normal. Ginny should remember everything by now, and she didn't remember anything, only bits and pieces.
But if this was it, if this headache had something to do with her memory loss, was she even ready for it?
Tonight alone had shown her how deeply the issues that plagued her marriage with Draco ran. What if there was more? There had to be. And… the idea of losing everything left her breathless, the sudden urge to sob overpowering—not because of the pain but because of how much there was to lose.
Ginny had visited Lucius Malfoy without Draco knowing multiple times. She had been the one to ask Hermione for the divorce papers. She had been the one to slowly replace Draco in her life with Luna. She had been the one accusing him of cheating when he hadn't been.
Maybe Draco had done horrible things too, but Ginny couldn't pretend to be innocent in her marriage's decline.
She didn't want to remember everything. Ginny didn't want to know.
"You're sick," Draco began softly. "This could have to do with your accident, your head injury—"
Clearly, Draco's thoughts aligned with her own.
"No, Draco, no, I can't go."
"Ginny, you're in pain. We need to—"
"NO! Draco, no, don't make me go," she pleaded.
He leaned back in surprise, his hands dropping from their spot on her head. The desperation in her voice obviously stunned him.
"Why not?" Draco asked, reaching up to push the hair from her eyes.
His voice was low, comforting, soft.
Ginny didn't deserve him. The sudden desire to tell him the truth about everything choked her and she inhaled unevenly, the telltale sign that she was about to begin crying.
"I'm scared."
"Scared?" he repeated slowly, though something darkened his face that Ginny didn't recognize. "What are you afraid of?"
A wave of nausea hit her. The world twisted and turned before she clenched her eyes shut. When the nausea felt like it had passed she opened her eyes again. Draco's lips were pulled tight. It was obvious he was refraining from running from the room, ordering his mother to watch the children, and forcing her to go to St. Mungo's with him.
"If—if I remember—Draco, what if, what—"
Tears wet her face, and she couldn't catch her breath. She dropped her head into the safety of her hands, glad for the momentary darkness it brought.
From his silence, though, Ginny knew Draco had finally caught on.
"Ginny?"
She lifted her head, but the candles—When had he lit candles? Had they been burning all night? —made it hard for her to focus. Ginny turned away from the light.
"Ginny, please, everything will be fine."
He cupped her face and she leaned into it, hoping for some reprieve.
"Let me help you," Draco implored.
Ginny stared at him as the hum of the pain dulled once again. It seemed the headache came in waves, as though it were a battering ram trying to break into a fortress. The hit was hard, numbing, but there was a moment of brief calm where she could think clearly. Then it struck again.
Draco's face was open and vulnerable. Her stomach twisted at the sight of it.
Ginny had never seen him so exposed before. It only made her anxiety worsen. Draco deserved the truth. She didn't deserve his sympathy, his worry. He needed to know everything she had hidden from him the past week.
"I know about the divorce papers," she breathed. "I've known for a while now. The first night, after our fight in your study, I found them… That's why I went to see Harry, that's why I left. I thought we were done, that it was done, that I needn't try."
He shook his head in confusion, his lips parting.
"I saw you had signed them." A sob caught in her throat and she had to swallow painfully in order to continue speaking. "And… and I don't want to find out why. I'm happy right now, we're happy, and I don't want to remember if it means losing this."
His hands rested on her thighs and he gripped them gently.
"You've thought this whole time that… that the papers were because of me? And you said nothing?"
"I remembered—Hermione, I remembered her giving them to me. But, I just, how could I have wanted them? Why did you sign them? I—"
A wave of pain made it hard for her to speak.
"Granger? Granger gave the papers to you?"
Ginny flinched. The hurt was undeniable in his voice.
She wasn't sure if it was that or the pain in her head that made her hunch over suddenly, spilling the contents of her stomach on the floor. If anything hit Draco, he didn't make a fuss over it. Instead he rubbed her back before guiding her to lay down. There was no fight in her to stop him from doing so. He kept her on her side and bent low to catch her eyes.
"I'll be right back. Okay? Gin?"
She nodded.
He ran from the room.
It felt like ages until there was noise in the hall outside the bedroom. Ginny couldn't bother to lift her head to see who was coming. A Healer? Her mother-in-law? Maybe it was her own mum. The idea of Molly showing up, of comforting Ginny and telling her everything would be just fine, brought forth conflicting emotions inside Ginny. Molly's touch had always helped calm Ginny when she was ill, but how could she look at her mum, who loved Draco so much, without drowning in more guilt over what she had done to their marriage?
Draco came into view and immediately scooped her into his arms. She breathed in sharply as her head pounded. And he was… he was talking. Ginny looked at the other person in the room.
"Blaise," she murmured.
Blaise was standing in the doorway, in the same outfit he had been wearing when they left Azkaban. Draco must've frightened him horribly when he called for him, for he was more disheveled than he had been when she arrived at his doorstep.
When Blaise heard his name spoken from her lips, however, he offered her a tiny smile.
"Everything is always so dramatic with you Weasleys, isn't it?" he questioned, but the obvious concern he felt made his voice wobble.
He was searching her face, as if her expression could tell him what had gone wrong.
"I'll let you know what they say," Draco interrupted, catching Blaise's attention. "Don't tell the children. We'll figure it out after we speak to the Healer. Wake my mother, get her over here to help distract them, okay?"
He didn't wait for a response. They were moving suddenly. She reached up and wrapped her hand in Draco's shirt—when had he changed?—before her head pounded sharply again.
The world went black.
~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~
When she woke up, she had an instant feeling of déjà vu.
A soft humming had woken her. Ginny blinked several times as the world around her came into focus. Her surroundings were incredibly white.
She was at St. Mungo's.
Ginny turned her head and saw a Healer standing over her, the same Healer who had spoken to her when she woke up at the hospital the last time. He was the source of the humming. Runes were drawn up above her, and he was looking at them curiously.
Where was Draco?
Suddenly desperate to see her husband, Ginny shifted in the bed. Everything swayed and she stopped.
"Careful now, Mrs. Malfoy," the Healer warned kindly. "You're not quite right yet, are you?"
She stared up at the man, and he glanced down at her, smiling.
"I suppose I did tell you to come back and see me in a week if your memories hadn't returned yet," he continued.
"What's wrong with me?" she groaned, lifting a hand to her forehead.
"Nothing is wrong with you, Mrs. Malfoy. I simply hadn't taken your magical ability into account when giving you your timeline for healing."
Ginny's eyebrows furrowed.
"What do you mean?"
"You're fighting the memories. You're actually making it harder for your brain to heal, for you to remember," the Healer said knowingly. "You're a powerful witch, Mrs. Malfoy, there is no denying that. But your magic can only do so much. It's time, I believe, that you let yourself remember."
His words terrified her.
"You're saying… you're saying that she's been fighting the return of her memories?"
The sudden arrival of the familiar voice startled Ginny. She sat up quickly as the Healer stepped to the side. Draco had been hidden from view. He sat in a chair beside the bed, head bowed.
"Yes. Your wife has extraordinary power, Mr. Malfoy."
The Healer paused and looked back to Ginny.
"I recommend you deal with this situation sooner rather than later. The headaches, the pain you've been feeling? Symptoms from fighting your recovery. Go somewhere peaceful, somewhere you'll be comfortable, and… relax. I'd advise you to go alone, but… the pain you experienced earlier will linger and I'm uncomfortable with the idea of you being by yourself if another incident occurs."
She fought to catch her breath.
"It's Christmas," the Healer continued when no one spoke. "Give yourself time to heal. Let down your mental walls. Remember. And enjoy the day with your family, hmm?"
Draco looked up then and his gaze met her own. He looked rather like he had when he'd rushed from the States to retrieve her from the Burrow. Dark bags marred the sensitive skin under his eyes. His mouth was pulled tight. There was no color to his cheeks.
He looked… exhausted.
And the advice from the Healer seemed to pain them both, for they knew what was coming. If she were to remember everything from the last ten years, the delicate relationship they had created over the past week would be destroyed.
Ginny took a shuddering breath, fighting the urge to sob, before nodding to the Healer.
~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~
Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you guys for being patient with me over the past few months. Obviously, I never intended to take so long to get this chapter out to you. But the D/G forum had a Summer Fic exchange that I took part in and, well, it grabbed hold of my attention all summer. If interested, I've begun posting the fic I wrote in my profile. In My Place won Most Fangirly from the exchange. Check it out, if you're bored. Or go to the D/G forum and read all the other stories posted by writers who love Draco and Ginny as much as we do!
But, really, everyone, you've been incredibly patient and kind. The amount of people who reached out to me to make sure all was well, and to give encouragement, was overwhelming and I can't express how much it means to me. My new beta for WGF, the lovely idreamofdraco, did an amazing job helping me with this chapter. Not only did she get it back to me with edits and comments quickly but she didn't murder me when I completely changed the first ten pages. (This chapter went through three rewrites, if that gives you any indication of how much it plagued me.) Send lots of love her way; I'm not sure I would've managed to produce this chapter at all without her.
I'll be going on vacation the end of September so I'm not sure I'll manage to get the next chapter out before then. But I have begun working on it, I promise, and it will not take four months to get to you. Please let me know what you think of this chapter—your reviews help me write, I swear—and thank you guys for reading and sticking with me! Also, a special shout out to all my Anons who review. I can't reply to you personally but thank you guys for leaving reviews and checking in on me!
