Following the Galaxies

The cloudy sky was a dark grey that lingered on the stones set about the ground. It soon became hard for her to distinguish between the stone and air that seemed to hang heavily about her, making it hard to keep up with the procession in front of her. A few drops of wetness upon her nose alerted her to the danger falling from the sky, and she slowly accepted the dark umbrella her father placed in her hands.

Shivering, her mother clung to her side, allowing the veil she wore to brush against her daughter's cheek with every step. Keeping her head down, the young woman stared at the ground beneath her feet, a maze of insects, worms, scattered leaves, and patches of dirt among the soaked grass. Its image firmly embedded in her mind, she allowed her gaze to drift toward the procession, past all her brothers, save one.

The glass allowed her to see his pale face, still marked with the freckles she used to count and compare to the galaxies in the skies. His eyes were closed, but she could still picture them, blue as the ocean and clear as the crystal goblets she had been given for her wedding. They still sat at home, unused and glittering above her family's dull cutlery and table sets.

The large solitaire diamond winked at her from its place on her hand, and the world suddenly seemed even heavier and darker than before. The guilt began to settle in; all the pain she had caused because of one selfish moment. But it had been for love, right? Wasn't it for love?

"Love that abandoned you and killed your brother," she told herself, the pain on her family's faces now etched forever in her mind.

They had stopped walking at some point, and had begun lowering him into the soft dirt. Two figures, one with messy, raven hair and the other topped with brown curls now soaked from the rain, were huddled close together next to an old man with a flowing white beard and eyes that, for once, were no longer twinkling.

He stepped forward now, and began speaking, but the words seemed to pass over her and reach only everyone else. Only snippets were tangible: "died honorably…a great sacrifice…will forever be remember as a martyr…need to honor his memory, but also accept this horrible tragedy. It's what he would have wanted."

"How do you know what he wanted?" a harsh voice cut through the respectful silence. The one person who wouldn't make a scene, who would walk away quietly while secretly plotting revenge, was suddenly vocal about her traitorous thoughts. Not caring how this looked

Wrenching herself from her mother's iron grip, she pushed her way to stand next to her brother's grave and faced the man who, in her mind, had failed them all.

"How can you stand there and act like it wasn't murder? How can you say the hours of torture and interrogation and finally death was necessary? How can you tell me to move on? How dare you! How dare you!" she screamed, throwing herself in his direction at the head of her brother's grave, even though it was obvious she couldn't jump the distance. Her father tried and failed to catch her flying form.

She almost imagined herself as a vengeful angel in that moment, her fiery hair flying about her face, raindrops on her eyelashes and mingling with her tears, her flushed cheeks and burning eyes looking upon all of them with disappointment, guilt and though it was hard to see, the desperate plea of self-loathing.

She landed hard on her brother's coffin, six feet below the ground, glass and enchanted wood flying everywhere. "I'm sorry…so sorry," she sobbed, brokenly. "All my fault, it was all my fault."

She could hear them moving above her, some still in shock from her outburst, others pulling out their wands to levitate her from the grave, her mother hissing about how she had best be quiet and show some respect for her brother, sounding like she was channeling Sirius' mother in all her rage.

And then there was a small 'Crack!', strong arms around her waist, and the familiar feeling of disorientation from Apparating with someone else.

Everything was dark. Dark and soft. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the blackness around her, she felt the silk sheets beneath her, their smoothness soothing her tired body. Finally aware of her surroundings, she pulled back the bed curtains with a sigh as light shocked her eyes and she finally recognized where she was. She had only spent one night in this bed, in this room, but she knew that if walls could talk they would now be laughing at her for her stupidity. She would be, if she wasn't so busy crying.

She walked to the vanity and chair and pulled on her white silk robe, tightening it securely about her waist to cover her naked, though thankfully no longer wet, body. Turning toward the vanity, she glanced in the mirror, noting her pale face and still damp hair, before her eyes moved to the shadow sitting by her window.

She quickly crossed the room, her palm swiftly connecting with his face before she was even aware of how deep the anger was running through her. "How could you take me from his funeral? Why did you bring me here?…What, nothing to say now that you've ruined my life!"

He slowly stood up, his height towering over her smaller frame that still shook with fury. "Would you rather I left your incompetent family to try and manage your guilty conscience, instead of bringing you home?"

"This isn't home! Home is warmth, and love, and safety. This is just a bedroom you made up in hopes of winning me back. Well, it won't work!" she spat, unconsciously raising her hand again, wishing to the gods she knew where her wand was.

"Love," he said mockingly, "I think it would be best for you to sit down." He pushed her just hard enough so that she stumbled back and fell onto the large bed. "Calm yourself. I refuse to speak with you while you are under the delusion that this is anyone's fault besides your idiotic brother, and don't you dare interrupt me!" he snarled as she once again opened her mouth.

"Wand first!" she insisted, nothing growing more apparent to her than her desire to blast him into the wall.

"Now, Gin, there will be plenty of time for that later," he grinned impishly, before realizing that his act wasn't going to fool her, and he adopted his usual blank face.

She sat herself back on the bed, scanning the room for her wand while he continued with his excuses so once he was finished, she could kill him with her bare hands. After all, what wife doesn't deserve the right to at least one murder attempt on her husband?

"I thought our wedding day would be the first of the rest of the days of my life. We lov-- cared for each other each other," he amended, seeing the dangerous glint in her eye, "despite family, war, good, evil; everything just…faded away when I looked into your eyes. That night, everything changed. I can't tell you how hard it was for me to leave you there, all alone on our bloody wedding night. But…"

He paused, glancing away from her for the first time so she wouldn't see years worth of mask building start to crumble under his confession.

"I couldn't say no to him, Gin," he whispered. "he had him. He had-- Ron already. Had him for hours and hours. No one thought to look for him when he skipped the reception. They all thought our rivalry would precede his happiness for you. I guess almost eight years later, it still seemed like we were in school."

He paused again, staring out the window, not willing to see the growing horror he felt would showing through her eyes.

"When I got there, Ron was already bleeding from several wounds; some of the lower ranked Death Eaters had been having a good time with the need for wands. He had bitten through his lip, trying to keep silent after endless Cruciatus'. His eyes were almost gone. Severus and I knew there was nothing that could b done. He was practically gone, Gin. Babbling incoherently about the wedding, his darling little sister, and how happy she was with the-- the ferret. The Dark Lord left him there to bleed to death, as the acids from his stomach burned away at his body, as he choked on his own blood, as every time he moved another shock would jolt through his system, only increasing the pain. I think he took some satisfaction in killing Harry Potter's best friend, and wanted to draw it out as long as possible, waiting for Potter to show up so that he could kill Ron right in front of him. Everyone was told to Apparate to Hogwarts to take down the school now that he had managed to break the wards, but I managed to stay behind."

"And then?" came the strangled whisper he would have given anything not to hear. In the few nights since the actual battle, with everyone still raw from the emotions tearing through them, some of pain, some of elation, he had felt nothing until he had heard those words. Sure, he understood what he had done, regretted it terribly, and wished that there had been someway around it. But there hadn't been. Would Ginny understand that?

"And then…I killed him." Finally tearing his eyes away from the window, he slowly met her gaze, silver eyes watching with dread as his words rang loudly in the silent room, reaching his wife, his best friend, his lover, his everything, as all the walls came tumbling down.

Not bothering to wipe away the tears that were streaming down her face, Ginny felt something inside her die at his confession. Perhaps it had been her last bit of hope that what she had seen and heard were lies. She had seen the Auror's report, had listened to Snape's apologies that he had been unable to do anything, as insincere as it had sounded, and watched as the Aurors determined who had been responsible for her brother's death, as puzzling as the answer turned out to be. What motive did a spy possibly have for killing his own ally? they asked themselves.

But hearing him say it so openly, with no emotion, left her dead inside. Here was the man she loved and trusted, had thought was a changed person after all that he had been through, but on the night that Harry Potter had finally defeated Lord Voldemort, as the Wizarding World rejoiced, her new husband had killed a person she had lived with and loved her whole life. He had marred their wedding night; it would forever be remembered as the night of the Last Battle, when good triumphed over evil, but all she would remember was that on what was supposed to be the happiest night of her life, she was betrayed and proven utterly wrong, and her brother's life was the price for her stupidity and selfishness.

His voice startled her out of here misery. "He--he asked me to tell you something. I thought he was completely gone by that time, and the pain must have been…unbearable for him to be fool enough to give me this message…but… he was still hanging on, and wanted you to know that he was happy for you. That he forgave you, forgave me. That our-- that our pink haired children would always be welcome at the Burrow as long as he had a say in it. That's a direct quote, mind you. He spoke some more about the Mud-- er, Granger and Potter, and then he asked about the stars and their galaxies."

Ginny looked up, startled at this new turn. "Galaxies?"

"He said, that he had always wanted to travel to a distant galaxy, and you had always told him he could just trace what he saw in the mirror, and he would always find a new galaxy, a new pattern to explore." Stepping closer, he knelt before her on the floor beside the bed. "I couldn't stand to see him in such pain, Gin. I hated him, I've always hated him…but I lo-- loved you more. I tried, I tried so hard, but none of my healing spells were working; I think they were just making it worse. So when he asked me to send him to the stars…I couldn't say no," Draco whispered, before the enormity of the deed finally hit him. He had killed his brother-in-law, had ruined his marriage, and shaken his already unsteady position with the Light Side. It was so much different from killing some nameless Muggle in order to appease the Dark Lord and keep his position as a spy beside Severus. All of his repressed emotions seemed to surface in that moment, and for the first time in his 25 years, he did something that no Malfoy had ever done before: he broke down completely in her lap, staining the white silk he had just given her a week ago. The wedding seemed so far away from them now. She held him stiff in her arms for a moment, before giving in to the only comfort she had found during the war. The only comfort that would still appease her shattered heart, she realized. They sat together, clinging to each other as they drowned in their misery, the guilt and sorrow tearing them apart.

After what felt like a lifetime, he finally pulled back, pushing he hair softly from her face so he could see her red-rimmed eyes. "I'm sorry, Gin. You'll never know how sorry. I don't know what I was thinking then, I shouldn't have listened to him, I should have brought him to St. Mungo's, anywhere, anything but what I did. I--"

"Shut up," she whispered. "Just shut up." She brushed her lips lightly against his, before slowly standing and walking to the fireplace, tugging on their entwined fingers for him to follow. Throwing the Floo powder into the flames, she quietly spoke "Headmaster Dumbledore, Hogwarts" before plunging her head into the flames.

Coughing slightly, it took her a moment to answer Dumbledore's concerned greetings. "Miss Weasley? Are you quite all right? We've been looking everywhere for you. Your mother is quite anxious about your safety."

"Actually Professor," she began a little shakily, "it's Mrs. Malfoy." Draco looked up quickly from the spot he was staring at on the floor to state at his wife's back. Does this mean…? "--and I'm quite fine, thank you. I think there is something you should know about Ron's…Ron's death."

"Indeed, Mrs. Malfoy. Well, why don't you come on through, and we'll discuss this properly right after I notify your family that you're safe."

Ginny nodded her consent, before pulling back and facing Draco. "My wand?" she questioned, nodding her head in thanks when he pointed toward the desk drawer by the bed. Never letting go of his hand, she quickly charmed on more suitable clothing, before pulling him along through the green flames into the Headmaster's office.

"This brings quite a few answers to light. Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. I will take care of the matter immediately. If you both would care to follow me, I believe now would be an excellent time to notify your family, as they are in the Great Hall as we speak. We've kept them waiting long enough. I do believe Molly was prepared to break down the doors of Malfoy Manor herself." With that, he calmly swept up from behind his desk and headed toward the revolving staircase that led to the rest of the castle.

Draco looked at Ginny uncertainly. While her hand was still tightly enclosed in his, they had not spoken a word to each other since leaving their room. Ginny had done all the talking, as Draco found it too difficult to retell the entire story once more and still retain his cool composure in such a short period of time. Now he looked into her eyes, before making up his mind to speak.

"What do we do now?" he asked, dreading the worst. His hands were shaky as they gestured toward her and himself. "Where do we go from here?"

Ginny looked at him calmly, facing the man she had given up everything to be with, and knew there could only be one answer.

"We do what we always do," she said, standing up and heading toward the staircase. Looking back, she smiled at him slightly, "We follow. And pray that wherever we lead each other will be where we belong. "

And with that, she started down the staircase after Dumbledore, twisting her wedding ring around and around her finger, smiling for the first time in what seemed like forever as she heard his footsteps behind her. For as long as they had each other to follow, they would never be lost.

-Fin-