You Are The Only One
Summary – DG, Post Hogwarts, a tad AU-ish. What happens when your marriage does not turn out the way you envisioned? Would you stay, knowing that life would be a bit worse? Or would you cut and leave? Most importantly does true love last a lifetime? Ginny and Draco struggle to find out the answers before it is too late.
DISCLAIMER – Anything you recognise is not mine.
Part Two
Love each other or perish – Professor Morrie in Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom
No one could guess how Draco had panicked when he had awoken to find Ginny gone from his bed. He had been ready to run down to his study and floo-call the Magical Law Enforcement Office, demanding a search party.
In those moments when he had climbed from his bed, Draco guessed that he had somehow managed to lose her, as he had lost most things in his life. If he were honest with himself, he would have to admit that he had a real fear of people disappearing on him. That was why he turned to something as reliable yet risky as business to give him the sense of control that he lacked in other areas of his life.
In spite of all this, Draco had gone and fallen in love with the most unpredictable woman he had ever met; and he could not fight it, he did not even want to try. He wished that he could tie Ginny up in his room, with ropes made of silk; he wished that he never had to let her go.
Yet he paced his bedroom, clad in only his silk black pyjama pants, with the full knowledge that he was the one tied in knots. He wanted to ask Ginny to come back to him, to never leave him; instead, he summoned one of the house elves for his coffee and copy of the Daily Prophet.
As she sat in the kitchen of the house she was raised in, watching her son devour his raisin bread and crunch happily on the walnuts while her mother make pancakes for herself and her father, Ginny realised that she had a big problem in her hands.
Before last night, leaving Draco without giving it a second thought had been so much easier. All she had to do was remember their last year of marriage – all the fights and hurtful words, the countless hours he spent holed up at the office or his study, rarely spending time with the family – the last straw being the fight when he had actually thrown the dresser at her. (Well, she had flung her hairdryer at him a week before that but nonetheless)
All of those memories would remind Ginny of the hurt, and the fact that their marriage was beyond hope, beyond repair. It was possible that he did not even love her anymore; after some periods of fighting, they rarely made love.
Now however, the pain and hurt of all those memories seemed numbed somehow, as if last night's events took greater precedence – the look in his eyes when he told he loved her and wanted her, the way he touched her, kissed her and made love to her.
It was not time that healed all wounds, Ginny mused detachedly, it was love that did so. Now, Draco seemed so much sweeter. Besides, that cloying smell that was distinctly him seemed to be in her clothes and hair; it was driving her nuts.
She tried to get a grip of herself but to no avail. No one, not even her mother, could have guessed that the reason she dropped her steaming cup of hot coffee was because she could not stop thinking about the things Draco did to her last night, the way he whispered to her. It was as though she had been transported, last night, back to the time when a kiss meant something, when it could bring her to her knees.
Molly turned around to place the pancakes on a plate in front of Ginny and caught the dreamy look on her daughter's face, one so reminiscent of the look Ginny had had on her wedding day, so filled with hope, love and faith. Ginny's eyes were luminous and much darker than usual; her mouth was as red as a rose.
Molly had never seen her daughter look so unlike her usual self. She wondered about the dubious explanation Ginny had given her about spending the night back in her place after going out with Luna since it had been rather late to return to The Burrow. Ginny, after all, rarely liked to spend the night away from her son.
Later that day, when Ginny got back to her place with Rafael, and after letting her son go to his room to tidy his room, she had to scoop ice cubes out of the freezer and run them along her arms and inside her thighs just to chill her desire.
The thought of Draco coming over to the apartment at half past noon as he usually didto pick Rafael up for the weekend forced Ginny to take a cold shower. Yet she could not seem to forget how Draco had made love to her for so long last night that she still ached, and she did not even regret not having thought of asking him to stop.
"Mummy, is something wrong?" Rafael asked, seeing his mother sitting on the couch in the living room cross-legged with her eyes closed and taking deep breaths.
Ginny opened her eyes and smiled at her son. On his shoulders, he carried his Falcon Falmouth bag that she had packed for him, and on his face, he wore a look of earnest concern. She put her arms out to him. He needed no further invitation.
Bag and all, Rafael dove into his mother's arms and they tumbled in a mess of arms and legs onto the couch. Both mother and son felt equally comfortable all tangled up with each other and did not move.
"I'm fine. Did you pack some of your toys and books?"
"Nah. Daddy said we'd be going for a Quidditch game tomorrow morning. I have some books and toys back at home." He paused here, as if thinking about something.
"I mean my other home. Aren't I lucky, mummy? I have two homes."
Ginny felt as if her heart was breaking in her chest, into piercing shards.
"I love you, you know, Rafael."
"I love you too."
They lay there for a while on the couch, her arms around her son, his face in her shoulder, one of his short stubby legs draped over her waist. That was how Draco found them, when he apparated into Ginny's flat.
He smiled; filled with love for the only two people in this world he loved beyond reckoning. Despite all the differences he and Ginny had, especially in the last year of marriage, he always loved and cherished those memories of his son – Rafael as an infant, a toddler standing up in his crib with his arms wide open to greet his father who had come home late from work.
"Daddy!" His son's voice and the smile on his face as he looked up from his mother's shoulder hit Draco's stomach like a strong drink, the warmth spreading.
Rafael leapt off the couch and ran into his father's arms. "I missed you."
"I missed you too, buddy." Draco tried to keep his voice even.
In one swift, fluid movement, he was holding Rafael in his arms. Draco looked at Ginny getting up from the couch slowly, as if she were already weary this early in the day.
"I've packed his clothes and his meds," she said, not meeting Draco's eyes.
"I'm taking him to the Quidditch match tomorrow," Draco informed her, searching her face for a sign, any sign that her mind had changed since last night.
"I already told mummy." Rafael spoke up, sensing something in the air between his parents.
"Yes he did, and you have a few more documents to sign regarding the divorce. I'll have my legal officer contact you," Ginny said firmly. Her veins felt as though they were filled with ice water instead of blood as she forced herself to remember all that Draco had put her through during their marriage – the neglect, the fights.
Draco felt his chest tighten. It seemed that her pride was stronger than her love for him. Well, he decided, two could be play the game.
"Fine." He nodded curtly. "We'll be going then."
"Bye, sweetie," Ginny said, taking a step forward to kiss her son on his cheek.
After they left, Ginny sat back on the couch, her body weak with exhaustion. She held her head in her hands as sobs wrecked her body; they echoed off the walls of the apartment, making her feel even more lonely and dejected.
She remembered then, because hurt brings with it hurtful memories, the painful two weeks after she had left Malfoy Manor and temporarily put up at The Burrow. That entire time she did not speak. She simply had nothing to say, not even to her beloved son.
If Ginny heard the rustle of her mother's skirts announcing her entrance into a room, she walked out. If she recognized her father's footsteps on the stairs as he came to check on her or wish her good night, she got up from her chair by the window just in time to bolt her door. She never heard her parents knocking; she just put her hands over her ears.
During those two weeks, Ginny let her parents take care of Rafael. She did not bother with healthy dinners or proper mealtimes. She waited until she was starving and then ate canned peas out of the tin as she stood near the sink. She rarely went outside. When Hermione or Luna came over to talk, she would simply sit on her bed and listen to them; she still would not speak.
"You can't fall apart," Hermione would insist, in her rich, urgent voice, "You're my only close gal pal. I need you."
All the same, Ginny would not bathe, or eat, or play 'seeker' games with her son. She cried so many tears that there were mornings when she could not open her eyes.
"Wake up," Luna would say when she dropped by when Harry was on assignment, "What do I have to do to snap you out of it?"
"Life is for the living," Bill told her, "Life is what you make of it. Come on. Just listen to what I am saying. Please."
He had come down during the weekend, straight from France where he had set up home with Fleur. He had taken a leave of absence from his work at Gringotts just to see Ginny upon hearing what had happened from his mother.
Bill's presence was the only thing that brought Ginny comfort like nothing else could, she often found herself sitting on her bed, waiting for him to come up to her bedroom to talk to her. Ginny thought long and hard each time after Bill spoke to her.
She thought about the sound of Rafael's footsteps on the stairs when he went up to bed without a good night hug. She thought about Draco and how it had all ended. She considered each one of his kisses and all the harsh words he had said to her.
Slowly, Ginny began to order things in her mind – grief and joy, dollars and cents, a child's cry and the look on his face when you blew him a kiss on a windy afternoon. Such things might be worth living for.
Exactly two weeks to the date that Ginevra walked out on her husband, she got out of bed and brushed her long red hair. She even took a pair of scissors and trimmed it until her hair reached the nape of her neck. She put on a dress she had not worn in a long time and went down for breakfast with her family.
Her son's first words to her were, "Mummy's better now? Can we go back home?"
She pulled Rafael into her arms and rained kisses on his face. It was Bill who started to laugh, coming from behind to engulf his sister and nephew in a bear hug.
She would never forget what her mother told her later, "We thought we'd lost you. I was even prepared to owl Draco, but your father said not to interfere in such matters between couples."
"Dad's right, Mum. It's over, between me and Draco," She had said it then with such resoluteness that she even surprised herself.
After having a long talk with her son that afternoon about how Mummy and Daddy could no longer live together because they had too many differences and did not make each other happy anymore, she went down to meet her legal officer in London to arrange for the separation and inevitably the divorce.
Ginny understood then what love could do to a person. She understood far too well to ever let it happen again. That was why she had to go on with the divorce proceedings despite what had happened between them last night.
The following week found Ginny sick in bed at The Burrow. Her boss had sent her home that day, insisting on her taking a few days off. Knowing that staying in her apartment and taking care of Rafael all by herself would do no good; Ginny went over to The Burrow. When ailed with a fever, always return to your roots.
"You look terrible," Harry said, when he came up to her room that afternoon. She was feverish, her nose red, and she wore flannel pyjamas though the weather outside was warm.
"Thanks so much," Ginny tried to run her fingers through her knotted hair. She had been working on a book, which had to be edited by the end of the week, ready for publishing.
"What are you doing here anyway?" She asked, puzzled.
Harry was normally either busy with his Auror job or putting up with Luna's nonsense as her live-in lover. Luna Lovegood had serious commitment issues, not that Ginny was one to talk. Thinking about Draco even for a moment, made it difficult for her to breathe. It was so ridiculous that Ginny resorted to a child's trick to ward off whatever was bothering her and began to count to one hundred.
"I picked up Rafael from nursery school," Harry said as he arranged the flowers he had bought in the water glass on her bedside table. "Draco couldn't make it, so he contacted Luna to let her know. Since Luna had some work to finish off at the nursery school and I happened to meet her for lunch, I offered to bring Rafael back home. I'm between assignments so I'm quite free myself," he explained.
"Oh, and to have a piece of your mother's famous pumpkin pie," Harry added as an after thought.
"Thanks Harry," Ginny said gratefully. "But where's Rafael?" she asked, before blowing her nose. Honestly, she was a bit irritated that Draco had not picked up Rafael himself. It annoyed her that for him, business meetings and office work took precedence over the welfare of his family.
"He's downstairs, having lunch I think…so how are things between you and Draco?" Harry knew that it was a dangerous thing to ask, but he had always been rather supportive of Ginny's relationship with Draco, having worked with him during the Second War and being open minded enough to accept him as friend.
Ginny narrowed her eyes at his question. "We're getting a divorce. How'd you think things would be?"
"But Lu told me you went back to Malfoy Manor with him sometime ago."
Ginny hated the way word of her business got around so quickly. "We just talked. That's all."
"So?" he probed, "how did that go?"
"You ask too many questions, Potter." Ginny brushed him off.
"Maybe you should give him a chance, Ginny. Everyone makes mistakes, y'know."
Ginny shook her head, stubbornly unwilling. She knew Harry and Draco had bonded and looked out for each other ever since the Second War. It was something Draco himself had told her about how looking death in the face with someone could bind you together in innumerable ways. However she knew that Harry would never know how it felt to be married to Draco Malfoy.
"You two even have the flu at the same time. That should tell you something," Harry told her.
Was love catching, like a common cold? Or was it more a virus that afflicted a person gradually until the unsuspecting individual was sick with love, consumed by it, riddled by its after effects? Ginny realised that her blood was so hot; it felt like burnt sugar inside her veins. Was it possible that her light-headedness was as much caused by thinking about Draco as it was from her fever? Why was it so difficult for her to recognize her heart's own desire?
"So that's why he couldn't fetch Rafael?" Ginny felt a tad sheepish about being so judgmental earlier and instinctively jumping to conclusions. She was glad she had not aired her opinions.
Harry nodded. "You'd better get some rest," he said, before patting her arm and leaving.
There was a knock on her door a minute later, and her mother came in, carrying a tray.
"What's this?" Ginny asked, confused and irritated by life in general.
"Your grandmother's recipe for break-a-fever tea; mint and lemon with lavender and honey. And I've got some of the stuff your brothers hate here too, bird's nest pudding. It's supposed to be good for you."
There was indeed a bowl full of some unrecognisable pudding like stuff poured into a baked apple. The last thing she wanted was food, but she forced herself to take a taste of the pudding. To please her mother, she realised. Since she could not seem to please anyone else these days.
"It's creamy," Ginny muttered, with a half-hearted smile.
"I sent Harry with some of the tea for Draco, I hear he's sick as well."
Ginny looked up at her mother sharply. "I'm sure Harry has better things to do, Mum.".
"No. He has a few days off work, he told me himself. And he didn't mind, he hadn't seen Draco in a while it seems."
Ginny willed herself not to scream in frustration. "Where's Rafael?" she asked instead.
"He's out in the yard playing, Arthur's watching him. I don't want him coming in here until your fever goes down, he might get infected."
Ginny nodded in response, too weak to protest.
She thought about what Harry had said all day as her fever raged. She thought about cups of tea and the strange turns love took. In the evening, Molly came back with some vegetable broth and cold compress for Ginny's forehead and not long after Ginny's fever broke. One minute she was burning up and the next she was cool and refreshed, probably the result of her mother's tea. Break-a-fever, break a heart; break every rule if you must.
Seven weeks later, the vomiting began. Ginny held her hair back with one hand as she kneeled on the cold bathroom floor, retching into the toilet bowl. Rafael was having breakfast in the kitchen and she had but fifteen minutes to get him ready before the magic school bus arrived to take him to nursery school.
When the wave of nausea passed, Ginny got on her feet feeling slightly woozy. After splashing some cold water on her face, she rushed out, grateful that her son had finished his breakfast.
"Mum, were you throwing up?" he asked in concern as Ginny tied his shoelaces.
"A bit, hon. I think I had something bad to eat. But you don't worry about it okay? Have fun at school," she reassured him, helping him put on his coat and watching as he slipped his bag onto his shoulders.
Hand in hand, they went out to wait for the bus. The strong stench of coffee from a nearby apartment made Ginny feel terribly nauseated all over again, but thankfully, the bus had arrived. With a pat on his bum and a kiss on his cheek, Ginny sent Rafael into the bus and waved until it disappeared with a loud 'crack'.
By Thursday, Ginny was sick and tired of running to the toilet every time she smelled scrambled eggs, or coffee, especially in the morning. Luna, who had seen how pale her complexion had become, and how thin she had gotten when Ginny came down to fetch Rafael from school, had insisted that Ginny drop by St. Mungo's for a check-up. Ginny however, refused. She had no time - that was her excuse; that was what she told Luna before rushing off.
For the past year – except for those two weeks after she left Draco when she went so inside herself that she could barely find her way out – Ginny had taken on the role of super-mum, being both mother and father for her son. She planned to make up for whatever emotional affects the divorce might have on Rafael, no matter the cost on herself. She dedicated most of her time to her son.
Friends might fall away, and her days of reviewing other writers' books instead of writing her own might bore her silly, but Ginny hardly cared about such distractions. Her only interest was her son. Hermione and Luna had gotten used to Ginny rushing off in the middle of lunch or tea appointments to tend to Rafael.
Ginny was preoccupied with making sure that her son got well-balanced meals and at least eight hours of sleep every night. She spent her Saturdays chopping up broccoli and kale for nourishing soups, since she no longer had house elves to help her. She sat up on long nights with Rafael's earaches, stomachaches, and nightmares. She laced boots, read books, played with him, and never once complained.
Now look at her, the one occasion that she listened to her mother and taken a break, had ended disastrously. She knew now to hold to her own and never falter.
Selfish desires dissolved the way dreams did, Ginny knew that for certain, leaving behind nothing more than an imprint on the pillowcase, a hole in your heart, a list of regrets so long you could wrap them around yourself like a quilt.
Ginny tried not to think of those regrets as she sat in the conference room of a posh wizarding legal office in London, a few days later. She sat with her legal officer, a middle-aged witch named Lynn who was a senior partner at this law office, and very experienced in Family Law. They were waiting for Draco and his legal officer to arrive.
"Everything will be fine, Ginny. We're just signing some documents regarding the custody arrangement, that's all. The actual finalisation of divorce is still a month away," Lynn assured her.
Lynn had obviously mistaken the glassy look of Ginny's brown eyes and her exceedingly pale complexion as signs of nervousness. In actual fact, Ginny was not feeling well at all. She felt incredibly weak and faint. She had skipped lunch to attend this meeting, and had barely eaten breakfast. Ginny had been too busy trying to get Rafael to finish his in time for school to bother with her own.
Her breathing was shallow and panicky, but she took a deep breath as Draco walked in, exuding his usual elegance. The aura of power around him was unmistakable. His legal officer, an elderly man named Joe Salco, followed after him.
After the legal officers exchanged greetings, the documents were passed back and forth across the table for signing.
"Well, that was fast. You should be thankful that your wife is not some gold digging wench, Mr. Malfoy. All she wants is child support," Lynn commented causally as they wrapped up the meeting. Mr. Salco had already packed his briefcase, obviously having to rush off to another meeting similar to this.
"Ginny's not like that," Draco said quietly, although the authority in his voice palpable. "That's not her way. She knows that there are more important things in life than money. She has always been that way. That's what I lo-"
"Shut up, Draco." Ginny's eyes flashed across the table at him, her voice was brittle and sharp with icy white anger. Her breathing was still off and there was a ripple of panic when she inhaled.
"Just shut up, okay. Stop trying to make me regret this. Stop making me feel guilty. Stop making me feel like the bad guy. Just stop it!" She stood up, ready to leave him, ready to leave this room which seemed to be sucking the oxygen out of her.
Ginny's breathing was so shallow that each time she inhaled, she wheezed in some strangled way, like rabbits when they picked up the scent of a coyote. He rose from his seat, opening his mouth as if to speak, to say something. She shook her head violently, holding out her hand, which was trembling just as fiercely as the rest of her body. She had not realized it until then.
The last thing Ginny remembered before everything went black was a pair of strong, muscular arms encircling her waist, catching her before she hit the floor.
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