Chapter 3

The Meaning of My Existence

- - - - -

I was still walking long after the rain stopped pouring. It was barely drizzling when I found myself staring at a cold, stone gate.

I was drawn to this place, uncertain as to why. I can tell dawn is coming soon, since it's a lot less dark than it was a few hours ago. I don't know what time it is, nor do I really care. All my mind is focused on is stepping inside this cemetery and finding the headstone I have been dreaming about for so many years now.

I stopped suddenly, feeling as though someone were watching me. I no longer had the energy to look up and check out my surroundings.

I walked a few steps further before stopping, certain that this is where I needed to be.

Sure enough, there was a headstone in front of me, in the very corner of the large and ancient graveyard. There was no doubt in my mind that this was the gravesite of one Ginevra Weasley.

So here is where she lay, buried underneath several feet of cold, frozen ground, buried forever in a box. I tilted my head, trying to imagine how she must look. She had been dead for so long, it made me shiver just to think about what remained down there.

I forced myself to look away and continue walking down the long line of graves. There were others here. I wasn't surprised that there weren't any Weasley graves in this particular lot. Ginny was a disgrace to the name of the Weasleys that it would have been almost a humiliation to place her plot with the rest of the family. I assumed they were buried at The Burrow, but I couldn't be certain. I almost wished I had asked Ron.

Most of the Witches and Wizards here were a disgrace to the entire community. I recognized Bellatrix Lestrange's cracked granite headstone and my hands tightened in anger. She was the Witch who had attempted to kill Sirius. She had deserved her death, no matter which Auror brought her down.

Come to think of it, it had been Ron who had finally tracked down Bella.

I made a mental note to thank him someday.

I walked to the end of the road and stopped when I saw a few unmarked graves. Surely these belonged to children, the nameless innocents lost in the desperate battle between good and evil.

I bent down, gently brushing dead grass and mud from the one footstone. It wasn't even marked. I stood up again, with cold, wet knees and stared helplessly at the graves. Had the Malfoys not had one spark of humanity, Ginny would have been one of these nameless bodies, lost in time.

I shuddered and turned to go when I noticed a cloaked figure approaching rapidly. I glanced at him through veiled eyes. It had to be a him. He walked like a man with a purpose.

He stopped just short of me and stood there. I brushed my hair from my eyes to get a better view, but I couldn't really tell who it was from here. My voice was still a bit ragged, but I tried it anyway. "Who are you?" I asked in a croak.

He surveyed me through pitiless eyes. "Harry Potter."

It was a voice. A dark voice. It was a voice that had been haunting my dreams. It had haunted my memories. It held traces of the hatred Lord Voldemort had inspired. I also knew in my heart that this was the man who had attacked Sirius. "Who are you?" I asked, my voice stronger than I intended.

A slim, pale hand lifted and made to brush aside the hood. When the hand disappeared, I was stunned to see a face so much like my own. I actually gasped when I saw the jade-green eyes and the sharp, angular features that were so prominently displayed in my face.

"Who are you?" My voice held more confusion this time, but I could sense little surprise in his face.

"I should have known you would not recognize me," the man said coldly, his eyes narrowed as his arms crossed. "Then again, how could you recognize your own flesh and blood if you had never seen him before, and abandoned him and his Mother to a life of nothing?"

"You..." I gasped, unwilling to even begin to fathom what he was talking about. "You...?"

"My Mother was Ginevra Weasley," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "And you, Harry Potter, are my Father."

I blinked, unwilling to even digest this information. I was still in a state of shock of seeing a much-younger version of myself. "How can I be your Father?" I asked.

"Mother told me the story the night before she died," he said coldly, running a slim finger down his cheek. "Do you not remember your last night together at Hogwarts?"

Of course, I thought. Of course. I remembered that night. It had been simply one of the best nights of my life.

Three days later, I recalled, it had all been over.

"Mother said you abandoned her after her own Mother--"

"Don't you mean Narcissa Malfoy?" I asked, anger returning to my voice. "She murdered an entire street full of Muggles, innocent Muggles! And Ginny stood by her side."

"She was her daughter," the man replied, his own anger rivaling mine. "What was she supposed to do?"

"Narcissa was a Death Eater," I retorted, pulling out my wand. "I never, ever would have expected someone I loved to stand by the same people who worshipped the... being that destroyed my life!"

The man was also drawing out a wand, his eyes blazing with fury. "She loved you."

"And I loved her!" I shouted back. "But I could not stand by and watched as she threw her life away just like that."

The man laughed, a scornful sound. "Which brings us to this very moment. I have already lost one parent. I have been spending the better part of the last few years growing powerful so that I could kill my other. Apparently your fame has run out on you, Harry Potter."

His own wand lifted. I quickly raised my arm. We circled each other. "If you don't think I'm going to protect myself, you're wrong," I hissed.

"I expected you to," my son replied coldly. "But you see, the same protection your Mother gave to you, my Mother died to give to me. Her love protects me, which is more than I can say for you. Your wife was very accomodating when I visited her a few days past."

Bubbling hate filled my stomach as I looked at my own son with disgust. "What did you do to Meiran?" I asked angrily, my wand hand trembling slightly. "What did you do to my wife?"

"She was never meant to be your wife, Harry Potter," he replied through gritted teeth. "She was nothing more than a whore."

This anger was beyond anything I had ever felt before. I was so tempted to curse him, to kill him, but I held my tongue. "Did you touch our children?"

"They were not harmed," he said, his tone almost bored now. "But you see, I was not willing to wait for you to come back. I know your style. You see something bad and you run from it."

"Didn't your Mother ever tell you it was she that ran away?" I asked him as we continued to circle each other. "She abandoned me."

"She came back for you and found you with another woman," my son replied, the boredom fading away into a yawn. "Imagine my surprise that less than a week after that little visit, my Mother was dead and I was left with this incredible desire to hate you, to kill you and to destroy your life the way you destroyed mine."

Something snapped in my head and my wand lifted slightly. The package in my pocket. Of course.

"There is a way I can bring her back," I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I stop. "All I want you to do is hear me out. I think there is a way we can do this without either one of us having to die."

"Speak for yourself," he replied. "I have been looking forward to killing you for a long time..."

"Is that what Ginny would have wanted?" I questioned him. The look on his face answered my question as his wand slowly lowered until it was resting gracefully at his side.

"No."

- - - - -

It was a beautiful day following the last of my N.E.W.T.'s. As I walked out, feeling considerably happy that I'd finished my Transfiguration N.E.W.T. with the best of my ability, I spied Ron and Hermione, the Head Boy and Head Girl, sitting together underneath a tree overlooking the lake. It was the same tree that I'd seen my own Father sitting under in the memory of Snape's pensieve.

Before I could interrupt them, I noticed they were sound asleep, his head resting lightly on hers, their arms wrapped around each other. Not wanting to disturb them, I turned sharply and saw Ginny walking uneasily across the path. She was enduring taunt after taunt from the ruthless Gryffindors.

So much had changed for Ginny since she'd arrived following Christmas holidays at The Burrow.

After she'd disappeared to Malfoy Manner, Arthur Weasley had followed her. It was there that the entire truth came out. Right in front of Draco Malfoy, who looked on with horror to realize the youngest Weasley was actually his half-sister.

He had risen to the occasion admirably, I decided.

Unfortunately, the truth was quickly spread. Ginny was half Malfoy. It was humiliating for her, yet Draco, of all people, stood by her, acting the protective older brother. Ron had been very bitter about this and it caused many rows. Hermione and I had had to step between the two to stop them from killing each other so many times.

Sure enough, Draco came rushing up the path and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, glaring at the group of fourth-year Gryffindors with something like loathing. I quickly rushed to her own defense, finding my tongue and snapping at the younger kids to bugger off.

Draco looked at me with something like respect. Ever since he'd discovered Ginny was his half-sister by his Mother, he'd been protective to her and almost eerily nice to me. He seemed to realize we both wanted the same thing and that was to protect this little sixth-year.

Draco handed Ginny off to me and I took her by the hand. "Thanks, Harry," she said, sadly looking over her shoulder. I squeezed her hand as we walked back inside the school and into the courtyard. "I almost wish this wasn't the life I had."

"Don't worry about it," I said boldly, wrapping my arm lovingly around her. "I love you, Ginny. And you have two big brothers looking out for you now."

"Is that the reason why Ron's nose was broken and Draco had two black eyes?" she asked timidly. I saw her shoulders tremble and pulled her closer.

"Oh, Ginny, Ginny," I said, rubbing her back to comfort her. "This isn't your fault. You can't help who your parents are!"

"I know," she said, her voice hushed as she pulled back. "I just wish I could wake up and find out that this has all been a nightmare."

"It isn't all that bad, Gin," I replied, taking her hand. "Really, it isn't."

"My Mum is a Death Eater," she said, her eyes going back and forth, as though she were battling inner demons inside. "And I--"

Suddenly a small third-year Slytherin ran into the courtyard, clutching a copy of The Daily Prophet. "Did you hear? There's been another massacre!"

"What?" Harry asked, taking a few steps forward. But he froze when he saw the portrait on the cover. Behind him, Ginny gasped as the large photograph of Narcissa Malfoy came into full view. She stood there, smirking, her long dark hair flowing behind her as she winked at them. "What did you hear?" Harry demanded of the two younger students.

"Apparently she killed a street full of Muggles," the Slytherin girl sneered. Her eyes fell onto Ginny. "I guess your Mother's just like one of us."

"Oh, Gods," Ginny gasped as she collapsed on the bench, her eyes completely glazed over. "Mum..."

I returned to Ginny as the two Slytherins continued on. "Are you all right?"

"Who am I?" Ginny gasped. "Harry, you know my Father is a very decent and very hardworking man, right? Why does my Mother have to be such a violent disgrace to the Wizarding community?"

"It happens," I said, helping her stand up. "Come on, let's get in for dinner."

By the time we reached the Great Hall, the word had already spread. I held her hand as we walked to the Gryffindor table amongst all of the whispers and laughter. I knew they wouldn't try anything as long as she was standing by my side. When Ron and Hermione entered the Great Hall, they, too, held their heads high as they sat down and began dishing up.

Afterwards, I could tell that Ginny was still very shaken up. Draco told off many of his own Slytherins and made sure Ginny was all right.

I realized that it would be better if Ginny spent some time away from the Gryffindors. I moved up to the Room of Requirements and after a few minutes, we were inside.

It was made to look like her room in The Burrow. I led her over to her bed and gently set her down on it.

I had never been more proud of her. She had held her head so high amidst the jaunts and sneers. She had been so strong for so long, I just wanted her to cry.

But she refused to cry as she sat in the center of the bed, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, rocking herself lightly back and forth. I watched her from the shadows.

Finally, she sighed and stood back up. "Harry..."

"Are you ready to go back down?" I asked anxiously, stepping forward.

She gazed at me, shaking her head. "Not yet... please, no... not yet."

"What do you want?" I asked, moving to her side.

"Can you just hold me?" she asked, her eyes filling with the tears I'd been expecting her to cry all night.

I leaned down and touched her face. "You don't always have to be so brave, you know," I whispered.

A single tear trickled down her cheek. I bent down to kiss it away. Her hand reached up and entertwined mine. My lips sought out hers and I felt a strange heat through my body as our bodies connected. As the kiss deepened, I found myself wanted more, to crave her more. She didn't pull away. I could tell she didn't want to.

Looking back on that night, I don't remember exactly what had happened. I remember the ways our bodies had pressed together, our anger and guilt and confusion melting into each other. I held her in ways I had never truly held anyone in my life. Her lips had traced fire down my neck and shoulder, driving my instincts on further. She cried out and I held her hands, holding her to me, not wanting to let go. She never asked me to, even when I gently kissed the tears from her eyes. Our bodies were spun, weaving together emotions too complex to begin to understand, the angst of our youth being spilled out as our movements grew with passion.

When it was over and we were both completely spent, I held her, feeling like I was someone who was so completely in love.

I had fallen asleep. She lay there, tracing circles on my arm. Her eyes held little of the guilt she'd been holding since she'd found out the truth of her Mother.

They were now blazing with anger. It was her anger now that was driving her. I didn't feel it that night because I didn't want to.

A few hours later, we returned to Gryffindor. It wasn't that late, not even ten o'clock. But I knew that I was too late when she turned around before heading to her own dormitory. She kissed me, but it didn't hold the fire it had once held.

As she walked away, I felt like she was slipping from my grasp. I was losing her.

But to what, I wasn't certain.

I would find out soon enough.

- - - - -

The morning after, I stood in the mirror, gazing at myself. Was I supposed to feel different? Was I supposed to feel older?

I didn't feel different and I certainly didn't look any older. I was still the same Ginny staring in the mirror. Only, I was a Ginny who had so completely surrendered herself to someone I had loved since I first laid eyes on him.

Even to my cold, bitter heart, the words sounded foolish.

In my mind, I was thinking about the article. I had managed to find a copy the night before when Harry brought me back. I had read it over and over in my room, thinking hard. Now that I thought about it, the angrier I became.

I went to breakfast without waiting for him. On the way, I met Draco and Ron, having still another row over me. Ron was defending me as a Weasley. Draco was defending me as a Malfoy. Funny, since I considered myself to be a Black.

I walked past both of them, ignoring them both, even though they forgot about their argument and called after me.

After breakfast, I went directly to see Professor McGonagall. I really needed her advice, more than ever. I knew that Dumbledore was well aware of what Harry and I had done, but I no longer cared. I needed to speak with a woman. Hermione wouldn't do, since she was too close to Ron.

I knocked on her door and she admitted me, surveying me almost sadly though her spectacles. Dumbledore had probably told her what was going on as well. "Ms. Weasley, come in."

"I'm not sure how much longer you'll be able to address me like that," I said, folding my hands in my lap as I sat down. "I need to speak with someone that doesn't know what has been happening."

"Of course," she said, surveying me. "Does this have anything to do with Mr. Potter?"

So she knew. Maybe the entire faculty knew. Probably the students too, since my life had become so important to them.

Before I knew what had happened, I snapped. I jumped out of my seat, all of the anger, frustration and guilt flowing out. She blinked, taking every bit of it until I was spent and could no longer scream, no matter how much I longed to. Instead of dissolving into tears, I held my anger in check and set my jaw.

She looked down, almost ashamed.

Shame. She was ashamed to be in my company. Everyone was ashamed to see a Malfoy hybrid walking around. I spun on my heel to leave her office when she spoke up behind me.

"You have, no doubt, performed the charm to keep you safe?"

I froze. She must mean the form of birth control. I really had no reason for her to suspect anything else. I turned back and glared at her defiantly. Without a word, I left her office.

In my mind, I was formulating a plan. With any luck, I'd be able to break out of these walls which were starting to feel even more like a prison. I also held in my mind a plan that would give me a piece of my once-fragile heart.

Harry and I had done what two people in love would always do. And I was going to take a piece of him with me to carry, always.

I just had to let him know I loved him before I said goodbye.

- - - - -

To be continued.