A/N: I'm back! For those of you who follow all three of my stories, I'm trying to getting a more regular updating schedule for all of them going. Now that You're My Nothing and Like A Lonely House are taken care of (after embarrassingly long absences) I'll be starting on Before We Turn Chapter 6, Deliver Me, Oh Lord, this weekend. Be on the lookout for it. As always, PLEASE REVIEW. I can't begin to describe how exciting it is to sign onto my email and find a new review, nor how depressing it is when I do the same and find nothing. Please, alms for the poor, help a poor writer out.
Corresponding Enemy of My Enemy chapter: Til [Blank] do us Part. After Leolin disappears the day of the wedding, Blaise and Ginny do their best to pick up the pieces.
Like A Lonely House: A Love Story Told in Nineteen Parts
Part XI
""Leolin" I call through the door, knocking lightly. "The hour is nye, my love; time to rise and shine."
There's no answer, and I laugh to myself to fend off mild exasperation. Twenty galleons says she and Malfoy are naked and still in bed. I knock again and still hear nothing.
"Alright," I call. "I'm coming in. Everyone cover your naughty bits."
I push open the door, which is unlocked, and my mouth is suddenly, inexplicably dry. The room is immaculate, the bed made and the doors to the closet and bathroom both neatly shut. For some reason, it makes the hair at the back of my neck stand up.
"Leolin?" I call, venturing to the bathroom, which is also empty and devoid of Leolin's usual charming chaos. In fact, it looks as if it's been cleared out. "You in here, Bug?"
I cross to the walk-in closet next, and my heart sinks an inch lower into my chest, making me feel nauseous. It's also been cleared out, save for a few of the dresses Narcissa gave Leolin that I know she hated, or that had been deliberately purchased in too small a size.
I forced myself to relax. Leolin and Draco are planning on moving to France straight after the honeymoon; maybe, in the throes of pre-wedding nerves, Leolin decided to get a jump on packing.
And maybe she's in Draco's room. I told her a million times I didn't believe that she'd actually succeed in following the Muggle tradition of spending the night before the wedding alone. It had been ages since they'd slept apart, and I know my brothers put on a fireworks show for them after the party. It had probably been too sexy to resist, and Malfoy had convinced her back to his room for a night of hot shagging. I think, for a second, of Wes, who's probably still lying naked in my bed sleeping. Surely I understand better than anyone how much of an aphrodisiac the romance of weddings can be.
Feeling reassured, I turn towards the door, already preparing the quip I'm going to make about not wanting to see Malfoy naked. However, a fluttering at the open balcony doors catches my eye, and I cross to them to see the note that's been affixed there.
As I begin to read, my heart falls from my sternum, where it had slipped earlier, all the way down into my lower intestine, and I clap a hand over my mouth to keep myself from being physically ill.
Draco, it said in Leolin's curling script.
I love you more than I can say, but I can't marry you. I know you
want to protect me, but your father's planning on using me to manipulate
you, and I can't put you through that again. Please know that I'm doing this
for you, and please my love, don't come after me .You won't find me, and I don't
want to be found. You told me once that you hoped I would come to love someone
else in your absence. Now I hope the same for you. Know that I will love you until
I die, and I only want what's best for you. I love you. Je t'aime. Rwy'n caru ti.
I know we'll meet again, in that place between sleep and awake;
that place where you still remember dreaming.
That's where I'll always love you.
That's where I'll be waiting.
Find happiness, my love.
Your Leolin.
I can't help it; a sob tears from my throat as my hands quake. Oh my gods. Oh my gods. I have to find Draco. I have to find him so he can go after her before it's too late. Because it's not too late, I assure myself; it's not. I can tell from the anguish in Leolin's note how scared she is, but I also know her better than anyone. She would rather die than live without Draco.
However, as I burst into the hall, instead of heading left towards Draco's room, I find myself going right, and it isn't until I'm nearly there that I realise where my feet are taking me. Some voice in the back of mind immediately chides me for coming here instead, but by that time I'm already pounding on the door.
"Blaise!" I croak, voice quaking. "Blaise, it's Ginny. Are you awake? Please, I need to talk to you!"
I hear the exchange of voices, one male and one female, and I ignore the twinge in my gut. Sure as I'd been last night that the whole thing between he and Eleanor Riley had been a ruse, I admit to myself now that by no means precluded the possibility that they ended up spending the night in bed together anyway. Especially since I assume Blaise knows—or at least might have guessed—I didn't sleep alone, either.
"Blaise!" I scream, and suddenly the door's swinging in, and Blaise's is standing there, looking concerned.
His smooth chest is bare and he's wearing only black boxer briefs, but he makes no effort to keep the door closed, and I can see, beyond him, both Eleanor sitting in the middle of the bed and the rumpled sofa, where Blaise clearly slept.
"Ginny," he says in alarm as I half collapse against his chest. He must still use the warm, inviting soap he had during school, and the smell is distantly familiar and oddly comforting. His arms descend to my shoulders, though his touch is light.
"What's going on?" he breathes, ruffling my hair. "Is everything alright?"
I pull away slightly to look at him.
"No," I say, biting my lip. "It isn't."
"Come in," he offers, holding the door wider to admit me.
Eleanor's up now, dressed in modest, unimaginative pajamas and looking concerned, too.
"Ginny," she says, but she pauses, clearly not knowing how to continue. "I'll give you two some space."
She gives Blaise a sympathetic (though none-too-intimate) smile before excusing herself from the room. We both watch her go before Blaise turns back to me.
"What's going on?"
Tears sting my eyes.
"It's Leolin," I whimper. "She's gone."
Terror and despair stalk each other across his face, standing out starkly against his usually-impassive features.
"Are you sure?"
I bite my lip, and his jade eyes fill with pain.
"Does Draco know?"
I shake my head, and the gesture dislodges the tears tangled in my lashes, sending them skidding down my cheeks.
"I came straight here. She left a noting saying that Lucius was going to try and use her to manipulate Draco, and that she couldn't bear it. Blaise—"
"Go and get Draco," he says seriously. "I just need to get dressed, then I will meet you in Leolin's room."
I nod, surprised when I feel the flush spreading up my cheeks. In the chaos, I'd sort of forgotten he was basically naked, but now I have to fight not to stare. He has a broad chest with swelling pectorals, and his stomach is a well-defined lattice of muscles. I force my eyes not to go lower, and when I look back up at him, the flush deepens. I know this is the absolute worst time to be bothering with this, but right now—half-naked and with all this concern for Leolin shimmering in his luminous eyes—he has never looked more beautiful.
He seems to misinterpret my expression, because he takes a step forward to place a steadying hand on my shoulder.
"Hey," he says in a gentle voice. "Don't panic yet. There's still time to fix this."
I nod again, turning and basically fleeing from the door and back down the hall. Malfoy's room is locked, but I hastily draw my wand and cast an alohamora. I can hear the shower still running, and I trip over my feet in my hurry to get to the bathroom door.
"Malfoy," I call, fighting to keep my voice from shaking too badly. "Open up!"
I hear the tap shutting off, and in a moment the door swings in to reveal a smirking Draco, platinum hair pomaded back but still dripping water onto his bronzed skin. How someone with coloring like his can still tan, I will never understand. I push the thought aside as he gives me a smug look. The untempered joy beneath it makes me feel heartsick.
"Look Weasley," he says. "If you're really that keen to know what I look like naked, you are just going to have to ask Cal—"
I cut him off, eyes frantically darting across his falcon tattoo and the medallion Leolin gave him before finally finding his face.
"Leolin's gone," I blurt.
"Gone?" he scoffs, looking more annoyed than alarmed. "What do you mean 'gone'?" I just spoke to her twenty minutes ago."
"She's gone," I repeat, panic swelling again. Some part of me had still hoped that Leolin had gone to Draco after she'd written the note, and that he'd already managed to talk her down. I can see in his expression that, of course, she hadn't.
Draco pushes past me at once, striding to his closet and dropping his towel. I wasn't expecting it and I flush and look away, but not before I get an unintended look at him. Oh gods, he really was as well-endowed as Leolin always said. I feel gross and guilty for thinking that, and I feel the flush deepen.
He doesn't bother with pants, simply trips into sweatpants and a faded shirt, grabs his wand, and tears down the hall to Leolin's room at a jog. I'm on his heels as he bursts in, eyes taking into the cold order with mounting horror.
Blaise is sitting waiting for us, his head in his hands. He leaps up when he sees Draco, his eyes anguished.
"What—" Draco begins, and Blaise wordlessly gestures to the note on the window.
Blaise and I exchange a look before glancing over at Draco, who's already dissolved—half-mad—into grief. There are tears in his eyes, and I realise I've never seen him cry before. Never.
"No," he pleads, hanging his head for a second before looking up at us. "This isn't real."
He draws his wand from wherever he's been hiding it and casts a spell on the parchment. Immediately Leolin's tearful voice fills the room as she reads the letter aloud.
"What does that mean?" I ask in desperation, flinching as Draco obliterates the note, the force of which shatters the glass behind it.
"It means that Leolin wrote that note herself," Blaise says, voice suddenly tight.
At this, Draco crumples to his knees, sobbing desperately, and in that moment, I feel a lifetime of enmity towards him instantly melting away. I fall to his side.
"Oh Draco," I croak.
I instinctually wrap my arms around his neck, and he surprises me by burying his face in my shoulder as he continues to sob.
"This was my father," he grits out finally, taking a shuddering breath. "He has her. She would never have left on her own. Never."
"We'll find her," Blaise says seriously. "Her parents are already working on it. We'll bring her back, Drake."
Draco shifts under me and I let my arms fall away from him as he lumbers to his feet, as if with great effort. He seems to be done crying for now, and his gaze suddenly grows dangerous.
"Find me Lucius," he says to Blaise in a soft fury. "I am going to kill him. I know he has Leolin, and he's going to give her back to me."
"If you're right," Blaise cautions. "Then we need a better plan than that. If you kill him, she could be lost to you forever."
"I'm going to torture him first in every way he taught me," Draco bites out. "I'm going to cleave all the flesh from his bones until he gives up the truth."
"Draco," I beg, shooting a pleading look at Blaise. He's the only person in the world, besides Leolin, Draco ever seems to listen to. "Don't be reckless. He could kill you."
"I don't care!" Draco screams. "I have to get her back. I—I can't lose her. Not now."
Just then, the door flies open so violently I heard the wall behind it crack, and I wince. Lucius sweeps in in a wintery fury, and suddenly I'm terrified for Draco. Both he and Draco draw their wands, but Lucius's is a just hair faster.
"Crucio," he snaps, and Draco drops to his knees, screaming in pain.
"Where is she?" Lucius sneers, advancing with his wand still trained on Draco. "Where is your traitorous little bitch?"
Draco begins to cough up blood, and I feel the hysteria rising again.
"Stop!" I beg, voice choked with tears. "You're killing him!"
Lucius lets off, sneering at me as Draco rolls, heaving, onto his back.
"Where is she?" Lucius demands again, crushing a foot against Draco's sternum with enough pressure that I heard a crack.
"Stop!" I cry again, trying to push Lucius off even knowing I won't be able to move him, must less stop him.
He flings a furious arm at me, and I'm blown back, my head knicking the marble-topped side table as I fall. I'm momentarily dazed, and Blaise is at my side in an instant.
"Are you alright?" he says, easing me into a sitting position and touching my head gingerly before training his wand on Lucius.
"Let him go or I swear to Merlin I will kill you right now," Blaise says, his voice deadly low. I never realised, until this moment, how scary he can be.
Lucius sneers but eases up his grip, kicking Draco in the side before stepping back. Blaise watches him before finally lowering his wand. A second later I feel his hand on my back, and I fold instinctively into his chest.
"Where is Leolin?" Lucius repeats as Draco spits out another huge mouthful of blood, making me feel sick.
"You tell me," Draco croaks, his breathing laboured. It's obvious that Lucius cracked a rib, maybe more. "Give her back to me."
"You think I have her?" Lucius demands, teeth bared in a feral snarl. "She's of no use to me dead or missing."
His diamond eyes sparkle like fractured glass, and he bents down so he's at Draco's level before grabbing him by the hair.
"If word gets out she's left, you'll be a laughingstock, and I will not allow her to ruin this family's reputation. If she's gone, you bring her back here now. If you don't, I will, and believe me, you will both be sorry. I will make you watch as I fuck her in two."
I wince at the vulgar word choice, pressing my cheek to Blaise's chest as I try not to imagine it.
"Make him stop," I hear myself say—I'm not sure to whom—as Lucius yanks Draco's head back.
It was clear now that Draco's fighting for consciousness, his face anguished as the realisation sinks in. Lucius didn't take Leolin; she really did leave on her own.
"You tell you're guests Leolin's sick," Lucius says. "And you find her and bring her back here in twelve hours. If you don't, I'll find her myself, and you'll be lucky if she doesn't tragically…succumb to her mysterious illness."
He releases Draco, whose head falls pathetically back onto the carpet.
"Twelve hours," Lucius warns before rounding on Blaise and me.
He points an accusatory finger at Blaise, but to his credit, he didn't cower away from it, meeting Lucius's gaze instead.
"If either of you breathe a word of this, I will crucio this little cunt to death."
I flinch, involuntarily, as Lucius eyes me with disgust, and I feel Blaise's hand tighten on my shoulder, though his expression remains resolute.
"Happy hunting," Lucius calls to Draco, and with that he spins into nothing.
When he's gone, Blaise releases me so I can sink to Draco's side again. I take his hand, and despite the epic beating he just took, he returns the pressure with grim determination.
"I can mend the bones and stop the pain," I say, and he nods, clearly still a little dazed from the Cruciatus and the general shock of it all.
"I'm going after her," Draco croaks, wincing as I start mending bones.
"Not like this, "Blaise says sternly. "Drake, you're in pretty bad shape."
"Every second I wait, she gets farther away," Draco says, his strength and determination returning. "I have to find her. When I do, she and I are going to disappear. Help me up."
I sit back on my heels and trade a glance with Blaise, by which time Draco has labouriously struggled to his feet.
"Drake—" Blaise protests, but with a snap Draco's gone as well.
Blaise swears and covers his eyes for a second, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a pounding headache.
"We have to go after them right now," I say.
"We can't," Blaise says, frustrated, "Fuck!"
"Why not?"
He sighs, clearly trying to get a handle on his agitation and think. "Only the Malfoys can apparate in and out like that, and I'm sure Lucius has disabled the floo network as well. I'll have to call a car and get to Salisbury. I can apparate to London from there."
"How are you going to find him?" I ask.
Blaise clenches his jaw, looking more sad than ever.
"I know Draco. He'll start in London and then go to Paris. I should be able to catch up to him before that."
"I'll come with you," I say automatically, and I see a spark of something in his eyes that seems to indicate it's what he wants.
"No," he says finally. "Stay here with Ariadne and Adrien. They are going to need you. Narcissa, too."
I nod, almost dazedly. This is all happening so fast.
Blaise copies the gesture, seeming to steel his resolve.
"I'll floo you when I get to London, or if I find Drake."
He turns to go, but I catch at his sleeve.
"Blaise," I heard myself say, as if from a distance. "Be careful. Please."
He considers this for a second before looping an arm around my waist and crushing me to him. Before I can protest, his lips are on mine in a searing kiss. I can't imagine when he would have had the time, but I can taste that he's recently brushed his teeth when his tongue tangles with mine. I give a soft exhale and bow farther into him, wishing, despite everything, he didn't have to go. Finally he pulls away, lips still milimetres from mine.
"Bring them back," I breathe, kissing him somewhat desperately again. "Both of them."
I raise my hand in greeting as I watch the door open and Ginny step in the pub, and even now, every after all this bloody time, my heart clenches. It's midwinter again, and I watch as she shakes the snow from her hair before giving me a soft smile. There was a time when I could have lived for weeks—months, even—on that small gesture alone. Now it's barely enough to keep me from going mad.
I know it's my fault, though. I fucked up when I brought Eleanor to the wedding, and hard as it is, I have to live with that choice. At this point, I feel lucky that I get to see her at all. In what has been, without a doubt, the worst sixth months of my life, she's often been the only bright light.
"Hey you," she says, standing on tip-toes to brush a kiss on my cheek when I get up to greet her.
"Good to see you," I admit earnestly as we settle down and I gesture for the Molly, the serving girl. Ginny and I have made High Clerk our usual meeting place, and by now everyone knows us. I try not to think of what it had been like the first time we came here, and how badly I wish I could go back to that night. Not just for Ginny and me, but for Leolin and Drake as well.
She flashes me another modest smile.
"I know it is."
Though we've never discussed it, I get the sense by now that she knows exactly how I feel about her, and how bitterly I wish she wasn't dating that slimy sod Wes Carmichael. She seems to have accepted it, but clearly it doesn't mean anything to her, because she's been seeing him for six months now. I fend off the sting this realisation brings.
"So how is he?" she says without preamble, nodding her thanks as Molly sets down a glass of Malbec in front of her.
I sigh. How Draco is feels like an unendingly loaded question.
"Good," I say, before considering. "Better than before. Ariadne and Adrien have helped a lot. Drake's basically living over at Ari's flat right now, and I think it's good for both of them."
Ginny nods her sage understanding.
"Good."
"I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't stepped in," I admit, and Ginny places her hand over mine. I know it's a gesture of reassurance, nothing more, but it still sends a jolt up my arm.
"Don't see yourself short, Z. If it hadn't been for you, Merlin only knows where Drake would have ended up. In jail, most likely, or worse."
I nod, fighting not to twine my fingers with hers. Before I can stop myself, I think of where we might be right now if I hadn't fucked up so royally. We could be having this conversation in bed, instead of in some stupid pub.
"I just pray the worst is finally over," I say. "The last six months have been Hell."
"I know," she says, and she does. Despite being in season, Ginny came down from Wales as often as she could during the summer, staying even when Draco snarled and spat at her for things that were in no way her fault. Still, she bore it all with grace, knowing that in Leolin's absence, he needed someone to take his grief out on. Watching her take it so he wouldn't turn in on himself tugged at me in places I hadn't even known existed.
Gods, how had I let her slip through my fingers? If she ends up marrying Carmichael, I will never forgive myself.
"How are you otherwise?" she asks, studying me with gentle scrutiny. "You look well."
I laugh, glancing down at the table to avoid having to look at her and be reminded how exquisitely beautiful she is.
"Do I?" I ask. "Because my mum says I look like shite. She never gets tired of telling me so."
She smiles.
"A mother's privilege. Is she back from Puglia yet? I was hoping to catch up with her before I have to head back to Wales."
"Oh, please don't," I blurt, and she laughs. "It'll only mean a huge lecture for me."
"A lecture about what?" she asks lightly.
She knows; of course she does. A lecture about what an idiot I am for messing up my chances with a girl as great as Ginny.
"About not wising up and settling down like you," I deflect, studying her reaction. "How is Carmichael, by the way?"
"Do you really care, or are you just being polite?" she asks, eyes sparkling.
Merlin, I almost wish she wouldn't do that. It feels so dangerously like she's flirting with me.
"If I say the former, will you pretend to believe me?"
She laughs, twirling a lock of coppery hair around one finger.
"He's fine," she says in a noncommittal tone.
Either she's being polite, or he really is as boring as he seems, because that's all she ever seems to say about him.
"I guess as your friend I should just be grateful you're dating him and not Adrian."
She gives a shudder that seems only half-joking.
"Gag," she says finally.
"What did he say to you that night?" I ask.
Generally I avoid discussing the wedding, considering what a painful weekend that was, but I'm on my second generous glass of wine, and I can't seem to help myself.
"Ugh," she says. "I'm still endeavouring to forget." However, she seems to consider, twirling her stem between thumb and forefinger. "Well he called you and Eleanor out, for starters. And then basically tried to convince me that Leolin's assessment of him was biased, and that he was actually a gentlemen."
"Well, he wasn't totally wrong," I say, but at her affronted look, I continue. "I mean, don't get me wrong, the man's a swine, but I think he could have been a saint and Leolin would have still hated him."
"Why did she hate him so much?" she wonders aloud. This was definitely unusual. We rarely, if ever, discuss Leolin these days. It's just too painful.
Still, Ginny seems more at ease with it than normal, and I decide to indulge her. In all fairness, I would discuss flobberworm mating with Ginny if it meant spending more time with her.
"Honestly, I'm not sure," I admit. "She basically hated him from day one, even before he became a total knob. For a long time I thought she might actually have a crush on him, or something. It seemed like the only logically explanation for the shite she heaped on him."
At this, Ginny wrinkles her nose.
"I know," I laugh, trying and failing to imagine what Leolin and Adrian would have been like as a couple. Insufferable, I decide. "Talk about a match made in Hell."
Ginny's expression darkens.
"I can think of worse," she says, and I realise she's looking at something over my shoulder.
I turn and groan. As if conjured here by black magic and the invocation of his infernal name, Adrian saunters in, Isobel Lorde draped on his arm.
"Is it my imagination," Ginny sneers. "Or are those knockers new?"
She's right. Isobel's always been exceedingly petite, and while I don't think anyone would have call her flat-chested before, she certainly hadn't been a d-cup.
"Twenty galleons says those were a gift from Adrian," I snort, gesturing to Molly for another glass for both of us.
"You can ask him yourself," Ginny said in a sour tone. "Because he's coming over here."
I growl in annoyance as I watch Adrian whisper in Isobel's ear before sauntering to our table.
"Well look who it is," he says in a sardonic tone, giving Ginny a shameless up-down that makes me want to kill him. "My favourite star-crossed lovebirds."
Ginny gives him a tart smile.
"Drop dead," she says.
At this he only smirks, eyes glittering behind hooded lids.
"Charming as ever, Weasley," he shoots back in a cool tone.
"So who bought Isobel those new sweater cannons," I ask. "You, or your parents?"
At this, the smirk slips off his face, and he gives me a wintery look. It's basically common knowledge that Adrian's parents are bankrolling him while he's at the Auror Academy, but he still finds a way to act indignant about it, as if it isn't actually true.
"How's Leolin?" he snipes. "I heard Geneva is beautiful this time of year."
Ginny's stiffens, and pressing his advantage, Adrian smiles again, displaying an array of overly-white teeth.
"Give her my regards, will you?" He turns to go before snapping his fingers and turning, as if he's just remembered something. "Oh, and tell her she should wear that red dress from the photo more often. It makes her arse look exquisite."
"Fuck. you." Ginny bites out, and I realise with pain and surprise that there are tears sparkling in her eyes.
I immediately think to hex Adrian for stooping that low, but he's already retreating back to Isobel and whispering something in her ear. They both turn back to look at us, and Ginny's flashes them the v before letting out a shaky breath and running a distressed hand through her hair, tousling her perfect curls.
"Do you want me to hold his arms back so you can punch him in the face?" I venture, touching her arm lightly. "I don't think he'd been nearly as handsome without those polar ice caps in his mouth."
She gives a feeble laugh before her expression melts back into a soft frown.
"Do you think it's true?" she asks finally. "That she's seeing some bloke in Geneva?"
I don't answer, because she already knows the answer to that. Leolin kept the dragon tattoo hidden at Hogwarts and when she'd worked at the Louvre. Only a few people knew she had it.
"Adrian was bang out of order for bringing that up," I say instead. "I'm sorry."
"I'm just glad Drake wasn't here for that," she says. "He would have lost it."
"Oh I don't know," I say in a darkly sardonic tone. "Could have been fun to watch him rip Adrian's lungs out with his bare hands. Besides, Adrian won't be laughing for long; Jaime Quinn told me that Isobel was at The Em with Langdon Blackburn the other night. Once Skeeter gets wind of the fact she's cheating with a married Quidditch star, Adrian's going to look like such an arse."
"We should throw a parade when the story breaks," Ginny says, still eying the couple with enmity. However, after a minute she relents, turning back to me instead. Everyone always goes on and on about light eyes, but as a person with green ones, I find them highly overrated. I love how dark Ginny's are, like molten, gold-fleck chocolates."Anyways, enough about that arsehole. What else is new? How's your sister?"
I clench my jaw. Gia's fourteen now, and—to my chagrin—getting more beautiful and grown up every day.
"She's dating a seventh year," I admit in annoyance. "And the slimy git tried to sneak her into The Em the last week. Now I owe sodding Quinn a favour for kicking them out and calling me."
"Remind me to bring you some puking pastilles next time I see you," she says in sympathy. "Is she still staying with Kingsley?"
"Over the summer she is," I say. "But she's with me for the holiday. It was the only way I could think to keep her away from the boyfriend."
"Bet she's enjoying spending time with you, though, " Ginny says.
"She is," I admit, feeling the glow of pride I always get when I think about Gia. "So am I."
Ginny smiles, and it makes my chest ache a bit. I never got a chance to thank her for the night I first told her about Gia.
"Maybe she just needs a pep talk, girl-to-girl. I can explain to her that slick and interesting aren't the same thing."
I think of what a good influence Ginny would be on Gia before politely dismissing her offer. My mum's already in love with Ginny and nagging me about her. I don't need Gia on my case about it, too.
"She's got some good sense, at least. I had a letter off Peakes last term saying that she'd gotten a month's worth detention for putting a bat-bogey hex on Tommy Pucey."
"Hope springs eternal," Ginny laughs, and I watch with mounting disappointment as she drains her glass and consults her watch. "Right, I should be off. I promised Wes I'd—"
"Right," I interject hastily, not wanting to hear what kind of romantic she and Carmichael have planned. "Are you coming to dinner at Ami and Adrien's tomorrow night? I know everyone's anxious to see you, especially Drake."
"Loathed as he is to admit it," she says, rising from her chair and reaching for her wallet. "Tell him I'll be there."
"Stop," I say, touching her wrist as she reaches to set three galleons on the table. "You know your money's no good here, Red."
She smiles at me, a real one this time, and my stomach flops.
"Someday you're going to have to let me pay," she protests, though she graciously puts the galleons back in her purse.
"I'll take it under advisement," I promise her, wishing bitterly that she didn't have to go, or that even if she did, that it wasn't back to her boyfriend.
"See you tomorrow, then," she says, brushing another salutatory kiss on my cheek, just to the right on my mouth. My skin burns where her lips touched it.
"Goodnight, darling," I say somewhat wistfully.
It's a liberty I know I'm not often allowed to take, but tonight she accepts it without comment.
"Goodnight," she said, and all too soon, she's disappeared.
I slump back down into my chair once she's gone, gesturing for another glass. There's no real solace for seeing her walk away—I know that well enough by now—but I'm still optimistic I might find it at the bottom of my next bottle of wine. Like she said, hope springs eternal.
Attributions:
"You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you. That's where I'll be waiting."
― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan