Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N* I'm soooo sorry it's been so long, but I've had ACTs and AP tests and SATs…end of junior year is always kinda busy. And plus, my brain has been on a total cramp these past few weeks. But never mind all that, here's chapter 11 – many thanks to all those reviewers that patiently waited for this chapter. Sorry if it's not up to par, but I'm getting a little tired of this story. Check my LJ () for news on updates. And I generally post little snippets of the chapter as I write them, but you need to be friended to read those since I make them protected posts, so leave a comment if you want. Anyhow, quick notes: Gill – I totally laughed when I read your reviews. Kathryn – Sorry I never responded to your email, but my computer's been messing up lately – you're going to have to read to find out! And all applaud for my ever-speedy beta Priscilla. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and leave a review on your way out!
Chapter 11. Of Luck and Timing
Dear Ginny,
Would have written you sooner, only I've been totally busy. Anyways, I just want you to know that I arrived safely in Chicago a few weeks ago. Will be returning soon. Take care.
Yours,
Harry Potter
PS. Sorry about the short letter – I'm running out of time.
* * *
Draco –
What's the meaning of this? I told you not to contact me while I was away, didn't I? And excuse me, but divorce papers? You must be out of your mind, you thoughtless bastard. Our parents will disown us. Not that yours can, since your father's wonderful condition is detaining him and your mother is spineless, just like you. I don't see what's spurred on this sudden change of heart – oh wait, you have no heart. Stay out of the alcohol, and when you've figured out whatever it is that's causing this, explain it to me. Or rather, don't. Just don't contact me.
Your wife,
Pansy Malfoy
* * *
Ginny, dear,
Well, it's been a long two months, hasn't it?
Let me start off by apologizing for two things. Firstly, I shouldn't have dashed out on you the way I did. Secondly, I should have written to you more – but you did say that you wanted to speak in person, and I really haven't had a chance to get away from work, you know? Anyways, hope you're doing okay. I'll be home the day after tomorrow, and we can go over whatever's on your mind, if it still is. Terribly sorry, love.
Yours,
Harry Potter.
* * *
Draco –
You're serious? How can you possibly be serious?
In any case, genius that you are, it looks like I'm going to have to spell this out for you. Of course I don't love you, Draco. Of course I don't want to be married to you. It just so happens that I also don't want to die at the wrath of my father.
And don't you dare tell me I have a fat arse when you've never even seen my damn arse.
Your wife (and it's going to stay that way),
Pansy Malfoy
* * *
My dearest H –
I can't stand knowing that you're in the same city and not being near you. I can't stand not holding you in my arms when I know I can walk down the streets and find you, standing on your balcony and smoking like a chimney. I've done some things that never should have happened, and we've both said some things that should have been left unspoken, and yet, I beg you, just let us start over. Let us work.
Meet me at Buckingham Fountain, 8:00 PM. I'll understand if you don't come.
Love you always,
F
~ * ~
"Mr. Malfoy, sir, the flowers have been ordered."
Draco waved the florist away impatiently, squinting back down at the parchment in hand and scowling. The nerve of that bint, he thought murderously, reading over the last few lines of Pansy's letter before crumpling it into a ball and hurling it across the room.
The florist gave a small yelp and scurried out.
He ran his fingers through his hair with great agitation, tossing his quill down onto the desk and groaning. He needed the divorce, and he needed it now. It was for a reason he couldn't even explain to himself, because throughout his life he had never prided himself on excellent morals. So what if he was bound to two women? Wasn't that every man's dream?
Except that he despised Pansy, of course.
And Ginny – oh, Ginny. Raising his head, Draco blinked at the picture he had stolen from her flat a few days ago. "Do you love me?" Her voice echoed repeatedly in his head, soft, pleading and so vulnerable. Her eyes danced in the photo frame, those wonderful laughing eyes that made him feel dizzy and alive.
He reached out and slammed the picture over, face down, into the chestnut of his desk. "Why?" He wondered aloud. "Why am I with her?"
It felt right. Those three words wandered to his head before Draco could even stop thinking about the subject, and he let out another groan. He didn't want to be with her, he didn't want to feel the way he did with her, he didn't even want to kiss the damn girl. But somehow, when she glanced at him with all the hope, innocence and honesty in the world reflected upon her face, he couldn't help but take her into his arms and touch her as if he loved her.
But he didn't love her. He couldn't love her. He wasn't good for her and he knew it, and, admittedly, had taken pride in the fact that he was shagging his worst enemy's younger sister. Eventually, Draco thought, he would have to break the sordid fact to her. Eventually, she would have to leave his life, because they couldn't last forever. They simply couldn't.
Then why are you still with her?
"A ball, eh?" A familiar voice cut through his thoughts, and Draco jerked his head up to see Blaise.
"Why do you always have to creep up on me?" He scowled.
Blaise shrugged, grinning crookedly, and took a seat across from Draco. "Aren't we in a bad mood today," He remarked.
"Am not," Draco retorted.
The only response from Blaise was the lifting of his eyebrow in interested disbelief.
"I just—I've been preoccupied, is all," Draco explained rather lamely.
Blaise reached out and hefted the paperweight from the desk. "I see. Is that why I found out about your ball from Rita Skeeter?"
Draco looked horrified. "Skeeter? How did she find out?"
"Beats me," Blaise answered. "I'm guessing from the man you're supposed to seal the deal with or whatnot spread the word. It is in his honor, isn't it?"
Frowning, Draco dug his fingers into his head. "I should have never let her convince me to have the damn ball," he muttered.
"Her?" Blaise repeated. "Her?"
"Weasley," Draco said, making a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. "She said…it was her idea."
"Since when do you listen to Weasley?" Blaise demanded, his blue eyes surprised. There was a heavy silence as realization dawned upon him and a smirk crept onto his face. "Ohhh," He grinned. "I forgot. You kissed her."
Draco pushed away from his desk and stood up abruptly. "That doesn't mean anything, Zabini."
"Oh come on, Malfoy," Blaise said as Draco strode across the room, twisting in his seat to look at the blond. "You let the woman convince you into holding a ball, didn't you?"
"I—"
"Who knows what's next," Blaise went on, greatly amused. "Maybe you'll even shag the girl."
"Zabini," Draco said in a warning tone. "It's a publicity stunt. And a ball was a good idea, wasn't it?"
"Maybe," Blaise countered, the smirk never once leaving his lips, "Maybe you should have a masquerade ball, Malfoy. In remembrance."
"Of the woman I'll never find again?" Draco harrumphed. "Right. To tell you the truth, it doesn't matter to me. It was just a woman."
"Ah," Blaise replied, still fiddling with the paperweight. He directed his cool stare onto his friend, and commented in a low voice, "You know, I'm starting to think that this Weasley has some kind of effect on you."
"Are you kidding?" Draco snapped. "She's a Weasley. She's just. . .convenient."
"Yeah, and that's what I say about all witches, but hey, you still see me with them," Blaise retorted.
"Blaise, the day I see you without someone on your arm is the day Harry Potter rules the earth," Draco grimaced.
"And you could join the club too, if you got rid of that battleaxe," Blaise reminded.
Draco glared that familiar and slightly tolerant glare reserved only for Blaise, and then Ginny. "Don't think I haven't tried, Zabini. Merlin knows I don't want to be attached to Pansy, but—"
"And now you've taken to Weasleys!" Blaise remarked cheerily.
"Just. Convenient." The blond ground out.
"Convenient?" Blaise echoed. He looked uneasy all of a sudden. "You, uh, er, you don't mean that."
"Yeah," Draco nodded, spinning around as if in great thought. "See, the way I see it, I've not been with many women since Pansy – as she's gone and made sure that nobody would risk their life to be with me – and Weasley, well, she's too low in society for Pansy to find out about."
Blaise made a funny noise in the back of his throat and stared at Draco, eyes wide. Ignoring him, he went on, pretending as if the words themselves weren't inducing painful waves of guilt upon him.
"Weasley doesn't run in any of Pansy's social circles," Draco said. "She's not into grace and elegance and all that, and so she's safe. Not ideal, you see, but safe."
"Safe?" An icy voice said.
Shit.
Well, that explained Blaise's sudden constipation.
"I should go," Blaise muttered, springing out of his seat and past Ginny with the speed of a bludger.
She folded her arms defensively and stared at Draco, brown eyes impossible to decipher. "Hello Gin," Draco greeted coolly, for lack of anything better to say.
"Don't you 'Gin' me," she replied quietly.
He simply stared at her, not sure of what to say, and battled the millions of conflicting emotions running through his head as she twisted the hem of her dress between trembling fingers and tried desperately not to cry.
"It isn't what you think," He finally said.
"I just don't understand," Ginny blurted out. "I thought we'd gotten past the whole 'I'm a Malfoy and you're a Weasley' bit, Draco. These past few weeks, I thought…"
"You thought what?" He said. "You thought I loved you?"
The unspoken question hung in the air.
"Do you?" She found herself whispering.
"I told you," He answered bitterly. "I don't know how to love."
"Draco," she said softly, stepping close to him. "I don't understand you. How can you act as if you care about him, and kiss me as if you never want to kiss anyone else, and then turn and be so cold?"
"You don't understand me," Draco replied. "You'll never understand me, you know."
"Am I not good enough for you?" She said, tears sparkling in her eyes. "Is that it? I'm not Pansy?"
"I don't want Pansy," He snarled.
"But you don't want me either."
"I don't know what I want, okay?" He cried, heaving a handful of papers down at the ground. "Frankly, Virginia, I don't see the point of your questions."
"The point," She shot back. "Is that you think I'm safe. You're first and foremost a man, and you need someone to feed your sexual appetite. And so, because I'm not good enough for your society, you figure that I can just be a side thing and nobody will ever know. That's why you never object to dining at muggle cafes, isn't it?"
He refused to look at her.
"Answer me, Draco Malfoy," Ginny spat.
"This is ridiculous—"
"Answer me."
"Fine," Draco finally shouted, throwing up his hands. "Is that what you want to hear? Fine, Ginny Weasley, that's why. I'm ashamed of you, okay? Are you happy now?"
"No," Ginny whispered. "No, I'm not."
"You know what?" Draco glared. "I give up. I don't even know why I'm playing along with your inane little games, Ginny. I don't know what makes you happy, and you don't know me. Let's just leave it at that."
A tear finally spilled out of the corner of her eye, and she glanced away.
"Maybe," Draco said finally. "Maybe we shouldn't be. . ."
"Maybe." She agreed in a small, broken voice. "I don't even know why we're here, Draco. You're married, and I'm – I don't know what I am to you."
"We don't mix," Draco said. "Like you said, I'm a Malfoy. It's just not possible."
"I think I should leave now," She said, meeting his eyes slowly. The pain reflected within them made him involuntarily cringe, and all he could do was nod.
"But you know," Ginny stopped at the door. "I loved you more than you'll ever know. And…I still do."
He watched as she exited with more dignity and pride than he could have ever found in all of Slytherin house.
~ * ~
Stupid fucking bipolar men.
Ginny slumped against the door in total exhaustion, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh. How could she have read him so wrong? How could he have deceived her so well?
She tossed her keys and wand on the nearest coffee table, catching her own distraught reflection in the mirror above it. "You look like crap," she muttered to herself, absently running her fingers through her hair.
"Ginny?" A familiar voice called out, and she straightened immediately, wiping away the tears.
After blinking a few times to ensure that there was no more wetness around her eyes, Ginny forced enthusiasm in her voice and replied, "Harry? Is that you?"
Harry Potter appeared in her living room, shirt and hair rumpled. "Gin, it's been so long," he said affectionately, smiling as he saw her.
"Oh Harry," She grinned, throwing her arms around him and pulling him close. "It's so good to see you again. What are you doing here?"
He rolled his eyes. "What kind of welcome is that?" He demanded, feigning anger.
Ginny laughed, genuinely laughed. In light of recent events, she had forgotten how fun Harry was to be around. "I was just wondering why you weren't at your own place. But I'm delighted that you're here."
"Well actually," Harry answered, untangling himself from her arms. "I did stop home before I came here, but Ron and Hermione are still gone and it's so lonely. After weeks of not seeing my friends, I needed some company."
"What about Evie?"
"School," Harry replied a bit sullenly. "I was sorely tempted to take her out, you know. But that stupid woman who runs the place, what's her name again?"
"Madame Divaux," Ginny supplied.
"Right, right," Harry shook his head. "Stupid woman wouldn't let me. I knew I should have never trusted my child with the French. They ruin everything."
Ginny gave a soft laugh, and gently rubbed his shoulder. "You love her a lot, don't you?"
"Mmm," Harry said noncommittally, though his green eyes lit up. "She can drive me absolutely mad sometimes, but I do quite miss the little brat."
"I think she's had a great time with Auntie Hermione," Ginny assured him with a broad smile. "And Hermione is now just clamoring to get one of her own."
"There's only one Evie," Harry grinned.
"Good point," Ginny said, linking her elbow through his. "You know, would you like some tea?"
"I've missed the infamous Weasley tea," Harry agreed, and followed her into the kitchen.
"So tell me," Ginny said as she reached for the tea kettle. "How was Chicago?"
A flicker of what seemed like guilt appeared in his large green eyes, but he looked away quickly. "Wonderful."
"What places did you visit?"
"Oh you know," He replied a little uncomfortably. "The usual. The Sears Tower, the museums, um Buckingham Fountain and um, um, you know."
"Did you bring me back any photos?" she teased.
"Of course," was his enthusiastic response, as he quickly reached for his bag. After a few moments of pawing through the contents, Harry looked up, thoroughly thoughtful. "Didn't you say you wanted to tell me something before I left?"
"Right," Ginny swallowed, turning around and setting a small cup of tea before him. "It's actually concerning our relationship and the engagement."
He lifted the cup up to his lips and raised an eyebrow, prompting her to continue.
"I was just thinking about, you know, love, and I wanted to tell you something," She began uneasily.
Her words seemed to have greatly surprised him because in that moment he dropped the cup, causing him to douse himself in steaming tea, and leapt back from the table. "Oh Gin I'm so sorry," Harry apologized as he surveyed the mess.
"It's fine," She replied, handing him a napkin. "Maybe you should take a shower."
He met her concerned brown eyes. "Are you sure? I hate to interrupt you again like last time."
She waved her hand, already walking towards the living room to find her wand. "Don't worry about it. We'll have plenty of time to talk."
"Don't turn around," Harry called as he divested himself of his pants and slung them over her couch. "I'm guessing there are towels in the bathroom?"
"Plenty," she shouted back.
~*~
"This does not change anything," Draco spat for the tenth time that afternoon.
Blaise glared at his friends. "It changes everything, Malfoy, and you know that it bloody well does too. Why the bloody fuck would you shag the woman? How many times must I impress upon you that women never look at shagging as mere shagging? They turn everything into some kind of 'Oh now he must fancy me' or 'He likes shagging me above all his other women' or some other fucking neurotic notion that binds us poor souls to them."
"I wasn't thinking of you when it happened!" Draco half-shouted.
Crossing his arms, Blaise raised an eyebrow. "I should hope not. That would be rather disturbing and perverted, wouldn't it?"
A sour look from Draco's part told him that his joke was frankly not humorous.
"Look," Blaise said, lowering his voice. "The woman obviously fancies you. Why are you resisting?"
Draco lifted his head and stared incredulously. "Why am I resisting? Why am I resisting? Blaise, why the fuck would you ask me that?"
"Okay," Blaise said slowly. "So you're married, but so what? You can have a fling on the side."
"She's a Weasley," Draco snarled. "And a Gryffindor."
"At least she isn't a Hufflepuff," Blaise countered. "And besides, you can't expect to stay within the Slytherin house forever, you know. There are only so many Slytherins that you could be with, and considering how Pansy completely blackballs the prospect of an affair with a Slytherin, I'd say Weasley's not a bad bet."
"Not a bad bet," Draco grumbled.
Blaise stood up. "Malfoy, when we were at Hogwarts, how many girls did you get with?"
"Many," was the mumbled response.
"And of those many," He continued, "How many did you consider seriously staying with?"
"We were teenagers," Draco said disbelievingly. "And I was betrothed. Was there any point in consideration?"
"How many did you look at the way you look at Weasley?" Blaise asked in a quiet voice.
Slowly, Draco brought his gaze up to stare at the man his friend had become, the man he suddenly didn't feel like he knew. "Zabini," was all he could manage.
"Think about it," Blaise said, reaching for his cloak. "I'm no advocate of matrimony, but that could just be because I haven't found anyone worth that yet." He paused. "I haven't found anyone to look at with all the adoration in the world."
"I do not look at Weasley with adoration," Draco snapped.
Blaise simply shrugged. "Just think about it, Malfoy. You'd be surprised how well I know you."
With that, he disapparated.
Draco slumped back against the long leather couch, utterly dismayed. "Well who would have thought," he muttered to himself. "Blaise fucking Zabini, hopeless romantic."
His parting words echoed in Draco's ears.
He frowned. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys did not like being confused; especially not about affairs that concerned the mental well-being of others. The only troubles that were ever supposed to plague Malfoys were power, ambition, and money – well, no, not really – but certainly not witches. And certainly not witches with red hair, brown eyes and the lightest spattering of freckles across their nose, whose pattern he had already memorized.
She means something to me. The thought struck him with the weight of a thousand pounds. How this development had happened he could not quite understand. And perhaps he didn't want to understand. But that single realization – that Weasley was indeed not nothing, that she was much more than nothing – made him limp with shock, and dare he say it, regret.
Standing up suddenly, Draco resolved to put this matter to rest, once and for all.
He fumbled around in his pocket for a few moments before giving an exasperated sigh and reaching for his wand. "Accio address!" A small slip of paper on which Ginny's flat number was hastily scribbled appeared in Draco's hands, and he squinted at the writing. Ginny. The name ran over in his mind like sweet rain on the first day of spring. Did he love her? No, surely not. But did he need her?
Draco was about to find out.
Gathering his robe about him, he disapparated.
~*~
"Harry, I think we should call off the engagement."
Ginny took a deep breath, and scowled at her reflection. Why is this so hard? She knew why. Because as soon as she told him, he would demand why. And there was no fucking way she was going to admit to anyone in Gryffindor house that she was mad for Draco Malfoy.
Not that it mattered much anymore, as she had obviously read his signals wrong.
As the hot water turned on in the adjacent room, Ginny returned her attention to the doting mirror. "Harry," she began again. "I think we should call off the engagement."
"Once more, with conviction," the mirror said cheerily. "Merlin knows I wouldn't believe you, love."
"Argh," Ginny cried. "I don't care what you think." She grabbed the nearest pillow from her sofa and threw it mightily across the room.
Thump.
Knock.
She blinked. Had somebody just knocked?
Knock. Knock. Knock knock knock.
Somebody impatient, obviously. "Coming," She called with an exasperated sigh, and moved to retrieve the pillow.
Knock knock knock knock knock knock knock.
"I said I'm coming," Ginny shouted, and wrenched open the door-
To see Draco Malfoy, in all his richly clothed glory, staring down at her with yet another unfathomable glint in his penetrating silver eyes.
"Good afternoon, Weasley," He said in a voice too calm for her liking, as if nothing were wrong, nothing at all. His gaze flickered to the tattered throw pillow in her hands, and a red blush crept up her neck.
"Draco," was all she could manage.
He swept into the room, and she was too stunned to realize that she had never invited him in. Closing the door behind her softly, she turned to face him, and they stood in an impassive silence as the seconds ticked by, neither daring to look away.
"Why are you here?" She finally asked.
He glanced around her threadbare room, a room all too familiar, and said nothing.
"Draco," she said warningly, and crossed her arms.
"I'm a Malfoy," Draco said then, and her eyebrows shot up. "Malfoys sometimes make mistakes. They…say things…that they don't mean…sometimes. Without meaning to."
Tilting her head, Ginny studied him from under her lashes. He wasn't looking at her, which could translate to either anger or just plain avoidance. She was willing to guess that he was maybe a little…embarrassed?
"What are you trying to say?" She asked when he stopped speaking.
His eyes were petulant. "Nothing," Draco scowled. He traced a circle along the path of his robe and glared at her darkly.
"Draco," she said in the softest voice, stepping close to him and placing a hand on his arm. She stared directly into his chest, afraid to look up at him. They were so close that she could feel the heat radiating from him into her, and could not do much but breathe in his familiar scent.
"Ginny," he replied, but he sounded hoarse, almost as if he was nervous. There was a long, drawn out silence and then, suddenly, his stance grew rigid and his tone cold. "To whom do those trousers belong to?"
She whirled around, alarmed, to spot Harry's pants slung casually over the couch. "Um—"
How was she supposed to rationally explain about Harry when the situation was so delicate?
"Hey Ginny, I fixed your water faucet for you," Harry's voice boomed from the bathroom, and her voice sank. "All you need is a simple heating spell to keep the hot water supply from never ending."
Draco turned sharply, meeting her eyes with both disbelief and anger in his face as Harry strode out, clad in a towel.
She closed her eyes.
"Ginny?" Harry said in a strained voice upon spotting Draco. "What's going on? Why is he in our living room?"
"Our?" Draco repeated. "You live together?"
"No," Ginny blurted out.
"That's none of your business," Harry said at the exact same moment, and Draco's eyes narrowed to steely slits.
"So," He said in a nasty voice. "You've been shagging scarhead?"
"It's not like that," she cried.
"It's barely been five hours," He continued with more venom than she'd ever imagined possible. "And already you've run to Harry fucking Potter."
Harry stared, befuddled, from Draco to Ginny. "Look, Malfoy, I don't know how you got in here but I'd advise you to leave Ginny alone."
"Harry—" Ginny began to protest weakly, never once taking her eyes off Draco.
"No no," Harry said firmly, tucking his arm around her waist.
Draco's eyebrows went up, but instead of the angry torrent of words she'd expected he simply set his lips into a thin line and watched as she squirmed. "Harry, this isn't necessary," Ginny started.
"Ginny," Harry told her calmly, turning to tilt his chin at Draco. "I will not let this bully harm you, even if he is your boss."
"That's Potter," Draco sneered. "Always protecting you, isn't he? Guess it's impossible to grow up and learn to take care of yourself."
Her eyes watered. "Hey," Harry said sharply, still not releasing Ginny. "I will not let you speak to my fiancée that way."
"Fiancée?" Draco repeated.
"That's right," Harry replied before she could possibly even think of a response. "So I suggest you leave her home right this instant."
"I see," He said icily. "And how long have you been engaged?"
"Not that it's any of your business," Harry declared, "But a few months now."
He turned towards Ginny, as if he had something to say, but only met her eyes for a long, silent moment. His face was impassive, but the way his eyelashes shook just slightly told her that it took him a great deal of control to keep it so. "Draco—" She said helplessly, wanting to say something, anything.
"You loved me, did you?" He said, oozing caustic sarcasm. "Well if that's what love is, then I love you too, Weasley."
"Please," she started.
"You're fired, Weasley," He cut her off, his voice brusque and emotionless. "I refuse to have anything Potter-related in my home."
"It's not what you think," she cried out in desperation, twisting to get out of Harry's arms. "Draco, just let me explain."
"And explain what?" He snarled. "Explain the guilt you've tried to lay upon me, explain what a total and complete hypocrite you are? Explain why you've lied, you faithless whore? Well let me tell you something Virginia Weasley, I don't care about your explanations. Because I don't care about you."
Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now, and realization dawned on Harry's face. "You don't mean that," Ginny whispered hoarsely. "You can't tell me you mean that."
He tilted her chin roughly, so she couldn't stare anywhere but into his darkening eyes. The anger reflected in their glowering silver was evident, but what nearly killed her was the small hint of sadness, of pain, that wouldn't have been detected by anyone but her. "I do," He hissed. "You. Are. Nothing. To. Me."
She could only shake her head mutely as he released her, causing her to stumble back into Harry.
And then the door slammed shut, echoing loudly in their ears, and Harry gazed at her in total amazement. "Oh Gin, I—"
With a small cry, she scrambled to her feet. "Draco, wait," She cried out, and wrenched open the door.
But he was already gone.
// End of Chapter 11
A/N* Yes, I know, I'm evil. All the more reason for you to review.