Chapter Eight: Catching Up

"I want them printed." Sarah looked at Blaise again as if asking what she should do

Blaise grabbed Ginevra by the arm and turned her around. "Listen to me. You've had nine years to deal with what your family did and live with the irony of Draco's decision. He has not. He has only had one night. That's a lot to digest in nine hours. He hasn't even glanced twice at a woman since he walked away from you and he was falling hard and fast for Jennifer Wells. I realize it may hurt to think about him falling in love with another woman, even after all of these years, but look at things from my perspective for moment. He didn't know it was you but it was! It doesn't matter what name you answer to, where you live, what you are doing, he simply loves you, you, your personality, who you are. Give him a chance. All I ask is one week. If you still want to publish those pictures in one week I won't say a word." He had looked her dead in the eye as he spoke; his tone had been soft but firm, and she had seen how deeply he cared.

She sighed. "You make two very good points. Fine, I'll wait a week, but if he walks away again you have to pick up the pieces because you're one who convinced me to hope."

He pulled her into a hug and held her tight. "If he walks away again I come with you this time." She nodded into his shoulder.

At long last he pulled away. "You have family here who has not seen you in nine years and would probably like to catch up with you. I at least knew your art before hand and so upon learning your identity had some idea what your life had been like. They do not seem to have that advantage. I'll leave you to them. I would love to stay but I am in this city on business and must attend to it." He turned to the others. "Terribly sorry for any confusion you may be experiencing, anything she cannot explain I will attempt to at a later time. Perhaps we could all have dinner? Have Sarah call my assistant to make arrangements; I really must get going." He shook hands with Snape before apparating.

Everyone stood in uncomfortable silence a few moments before Ginevra sighed, ran her hand through her hair, and spoke. "So, which book did they give you?"

"There's more than one?" Charlie sounded impressed.

"There are three, actually. Some of the prints are repeated, but most are not. Ah, you got the first one." Fred had held his up for her to see. "That's my favorite. I suppose it makes sense, that one is mostly of images that capture the sense of emptiness and loss most felt after the war. Have you had a chance to look through it?"

"Snape and we glanced through it last night, but nothing extensive. They are really quite impressive." Remus answered.

"We haven't really had a chance." Bill spoke for the Weasleys.

Ginevra nodded. "Well, if you'll come this way I'll show you my gallery. It has a few prints out of the collections that have remained best sellers, but mostly it is new work that has yet to published in book form." She led the way.

"You've made quite a name for yourself." Snape observed as they past a collection of framed reviews and articles hung in the hall.

"I suppose so. I guess when you live through your camera you cannot avoid capturing the true emotions, the essences of life. It seems that people appreciate having something on their wall that can lead them to recall the beautiful times in their own lives or assure them that they are not alone in the darkness."

"So the picture on the cover, is it significant or merely one of the most famous?" Tonks was still flipping through the book.

"That is 'The Cliff'' and it is the first picture I ever took. It is actually on Zabini property, back in his estate somewhere. I found it while staying with him before I left."

"Why did you leave, if you knew not everyone felt the same. I still don't really understand." Charlie sat on a bench in the middle of the gallery and looked at the pictures on the wall.

Ginevra sighed again. "Perhaps it's best if I just tell the whole story," and she did. She began with how she had come to know Blaise and Draco while serving as their handler for the Order during the war, went through his departure, and finished with her giving Blaise permission to deliver the letter at long last.

"So there you have it. I left because I could not bear the thought of facing life without him. There was too much pain and I could not deal with it. I needed him and he was gone." She shrugged.

"But…" Bill sat next to her and began to ask a question. She raised a hand and he stopped.

"Why didn't I let Blaise tell him?" Bill nodded. "I guess I just wanted him to let me make my own decision. I wanted him to let me decide whether I would rather stand up to my family and beside him. I wanted him to see being with me as worth anything, but if he knew what had happened it would be entirely different."

Snape looked away from a print of the shot she took of the masque from the catwalk and turned to her. "That makes sense."

"Look, I can't take this anymore." Ginevra stood suddenly. "I haven't let myself experience this much emotion in nine years I find it exhausting. Let's go get something to eat and you all can take your turn and tell me what I've missed in your lives. I can even take you on a tour of the city."

Everyone seemed to desire a change of mood as much as she did and the rest of the day was spent sight-seeing, eating, caching up, and laughing. Fred and George regaled those who had not been present with their adventure escaping the Coliseum after hours and Ginevra could barely breath she was laughing so hard.

They finally made their way back to her gallery and she let them all choose a favorite print. They were sitting around her studio eating take out and telling stories when Bill started flipping through some of her paintings against the wall. "How come you never sell any of these?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Who else asked?"

"Blaise."

"Maybe because they're really good." Charlie had started looking at the paintings as well. Remus found a stack of her pencils.

"These are amazing, Gin. Not that your photography isn't. It most certainly is, but your work with texture is astounding."

"Well, how did you answer Blaise?" Tonks had joined her husband by the pencils.

"They are my version of a diary."

"And your photography isn't?" Fred was confused.

"That's what he said."

"Again, how did you answer him?" George asked.

"I changed the subject. I know better than to try that with you lot."

"Well?" Charlie was genuinely interested.

"When capturing my pain in a picture wasn't enough to distance myself from it I would paint. When an image of others' joy emphasized my loneliness too much I would draw. When the world around me is too real and yet too far away I pick up my pastels. When I can't think or concentrate or process anything I turn to charcoal. If photography is my way of keeping the world at arms length than brush and canvas or pen and paper is my way of reconnecting. Photography is who I should be, who I want to be, who I try not to be. These mediums here are who I am. Maybe someday, if I learn how to live again, if I learn how to face my fears again, if I become comfortable with who I am and stop running from what I love, maybe then I'll begin to sell these."

Everyone was quiet for a moment. When someone finally spoke it was Fred who had just remembered a time when they had caught a kid shoplifting and took care of the situation their way.