Ghosts of the Past
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
A/N: An homage to the Draco/Ginny 'ship, which was the first fanfic I read; also, an homage to my "home" 'ship, which is, in my opinion, the best unconventional 'ship. Enjoy.
He stared hesitantly at the steps that led to the modest porch that was attached to the modest house. He didn't know why he was there; this day had been one he'd like to forget, and he knew she felt the same way. Perhaps that's why he felt compelled to visit her that day. What was the Muggle saying? Misery loves company.
He sighed as he trudged up the steps, shivering slightly in the cool, crisp March air. He'd forgotten his heavy cloak, but he'd not forgotten the brilliant white roses now clutched nervously in his hand.
He knocked, and for a moment, he thought about simply leaving the flowers and Disapparating, but no. He'd come too far to turn back now. Besides, perhaps she wasn't home.
His hope betrayed him as he heard footsteps approaching, and he cleared his throat nervously as the door swung open, seemingly in slow motion. She stared at him with those big, brown eyes that once had danced with happiness but now held only age and weariness. Her hair, still vibrantly red, was pulled back into a plain ponytail, and he grimaced at the thought that anything about this woman was plain. Dressed in a white sweater and jeans, she looked much younger than her twenty-six years.
"Miss Weasley," he said with a slight bow of the head, an automatic response ingrained in him by his mother's good breeding. He silently handed her the flowers, and she took them without thanks.
If she faltered a bit at seeing him, she didn't show it, but merely tipped her head in response and answered, "I haven't been called that in many years, Mr. Malfoy." She stared into his grey eyes; eyes that once regarded her as a worthless guttersnipe now shone with concern and remorse. His trademark silver-blond hair was to his shoulders and hung freely around his face. It made him look wild and natural, but it didn't detract from his attractiveness.
He laughed wryly. "Black," he said. "I haven't been a Malfoy since my father's fortunate death."
"Yes, I read in the papers you'd taken your mother's maiden name," she said thoughtfully. "An homage to your aunt, Bellatrix, perhaps? Or a meager attempt to pretend you can change your family's legacy?" Her tone was blunt and hurtful, and he knew it was intentional, yet not undeserved.
"Actually," he said, "I thought I'd try and pay tribute to my mother's cousin, the only decent Black ever born and one I never had the opportunity to know, though Potter's told me some stories. And yes, I'd like to change my legacy, since you asked."
She raised her eyebrows in slight surprise and opened the door a bit wider. "I was just about to have tea," she said, inviting him in with a wave of her hand. "Queen Victoria okay with you?"
"Yes, thank you," he replied, stepping into the house that held obvious warmth and love.
He followed her down the hallway to the kitchen and remained standing until she took a seat. Once again, his mother's breeding made an appearance.
"I'd ask why you're here," she said. "But we both know what today is."
"Yes, we do," he answered, opting to look at his hands in his lap rather than at the tears he was sure were gathering in her eyes. "I would offer my condolences, but I fear they're about five years too late. I did write to you when it happened."
"Severus brought me your letter after the funeral," she answered. "Thank you."
"I should thank you," Draco said softly. "It was your late husband that turned the Court in my favor. It was lucky he knew my role."
"The truth that you were a spy for the Order would have been uncovered, Draco," Ginny said stiffly. She pulled her white cardigan sweater more tightly around her.
"Not before I'd gotten the Kiss," he replied, raising his head to meet her gaze. "The Ministry was out for blood. They were throwing people in Azkaban and taking names later. Without your husband's testimony, I'd have suffered worse than any death sentence." He sighed heavily. "I wish I'd gotten to thank him."
Ginny stood abruptly from the table, sloshing tea over the side of her cup. "Yes, well, your father saw to that, didn't he? He made sure my husband died for saving your arse." She turned her back on him, but he knew from her shaking shoulders that she was sobbing in earnest.
He tucked his hair behind his ear, rose and walked over to her, hesitant to put his hand on her back. Instead, he spoke to her.
"Your husband was brave and courageous until the end, Ginny," he said quietly. "He died a hero's death. It was my father who died like the coward he truly was"
He closed his eyes at the memory of finding the bodies of the two men, one with brown hair, the other with a long blond mane, in the dungeon of his family home. A Priori Incantatem showed his father had cast the Killing Curse before hanging himself.
Ginny coughed and turned to face her former enemy. "Yes, you told me that in your letter."
She brushed past him, back to the table, as a young pair of tawny-haired children quietly entered the room. The boy held his sister's hand as they stared at their mum's red eyes.
"Are you alright, Mummy?" the boy asked.
"Yes, Andrew," she replied with forced cheer. "I'm fine."
"Who's that?" the girl asked, pointing at Draco.
He turned and smiled weakly at the pair. "I went to school with your mum," he said before Ginny could answer. "And I must say, you both look just like your parents."
Before she could stop herself, Ginny smiled. People always complimented the children in that way, and she was infinitely proud that her children portrayed a beautiful mix of herself and her beloved.
"Did you know our daddy?" the girl asked. Her brown eyes were hopeful that this stranger had been friends with both her parents.
"Yes, I knew your father," Draco said with a sad smile. "For a short time, anyway. He was a very nice man and an excellent wizard."
Ginny cleared her throat and said, "Shouldn't you be playing outside?"
"Abby forgot her kitten, Mummy," Andrew explained.
"Go on then," Ginny said. "I'll be out in just a minute."
The children blew kisses to their mother before heading out the back door to the yard. Draco could hear them playing happily together.
"They're wonderful," he said, slightly wistfully. "How old are they?"
"They're seven next week," she replied.
"Are they…?" he silently asked the question everyone always asked.
She bristled slightly and frowned at him. "Yes, they're like their father," she said coolly.
"I bet he was a wonderful father," Draco commented idly. "He always seemed to have a way with children, even those of us who were difficult."
"He was a lovely father," Ginny said sadly. "It's hard knowing he won't be here to see them grow up."
"I'd like to be a father," he said unconsciously. His face reddened as he realized he'd spoken those words aloud for the first time in his life.
"Do you really think you could be a father, knowing the example you had?" Ginny spat. Having this man in her house, especially on this day, was trying her patience. It was bad enough that she was reminded of her beloved husband every time she looked at her twins.
"Actually, it would surprise you to know that my mother was good to me when I was a child," he said. "It was only my father that saw me as a pawn in his game." He regarded her carefully before he continued. "And yes, I think I could be a good father. I would just have to do exactly the opposite of how I was raised. But it matters not," he sighed. "There aren't too many witches who'd like to marry the son of Lucius Malfoy."
She stared at him, entranced by his openness and honesty. Where was the Draco Malfoy she'd Bat-Bogeyed in her fourth year, the arrogant prat who lived to make the lives of her family and friends miserable?
She didn't even register that he was speaking again until he said, "And I don't think I'd know what true love was if it came up and hexed me."
"It's wonderful, being in love," she blurted. Her hand came to cover her mouth in surprise.
Draco's eyes widened and he sat back down at the table, indicating for her to do the same.
"Tell me," he urged.
Ginny sighed and glanced down at her wedding band, still circling her left ring finger. She decided for the next few moments to forget that he was Draco Malfoy.
"You have to understand, I've only loved one man in my life," she began. "I knew my husband for most of my life; he had been my friend for a long time. When he became my partner in Order business when I finished school, I was relieved because I was comfortable with him.
"He was patient and kind; he never got frustrated with me, and he always had compassion when I was overwhelmed. Ours wasn't a big, passionate love affair. It was friendship and familiarity that grew into something neither of us were prepared for.
"He was afraid of me when he realized we were in love. He ran from me, from my family. They knew before I even told them, bless them. My father went after him, made him see sense and brought him back to me. We were never parted again, until that day.
"He was the kindest, gentlest person I'd ever known. We married quietly, just us and Dumbledore, because he didn't want a fuss. He was modest and humble like that; I think that's what I loved most about him."
Tears filled her eyes again, and she let them fall. Draco silently handed her his handkerchief and nodded for her to continue.
"Two years later, we had the twins. It was funny to watch him, so meticulous in his own life, try and handle two squirming babies. But he was wonderful. They made him come alive, and I couldn't help falling in love with him all over again.
"When he found out you'd been arrested, he knew he had to help. We assumed only Severus knew; he'd let it slip to my husband once and swore him to secrecy. Then, when your father found out he had testified on your behalf… There was nothing I could do. I knew when he didn't come home that night that something terrible had happened."
She began crying harder, and Draco instinctively reached over to take her hand, brushing his fingers across the diamond band that adorned her finger.
"I'll never stop loving him," she concluded. "Just because he's gone doesn't mean that the love stops."
At her words, Draco's heart clinched, and he felt wetness on his cheeks. He wiped his face with his free hand. She tried to hand his handkerchief back to him, but he put his hands up, indicating she should keep it.
Ginny squeezed his hand in hers and smiled at him through her tears.
"Thank you for coming, Draco," she said. "My family likes to leave me to myself on this day."
"I wish I could have done something more back then," he said dumbly.
"I know," she said, squeezing his hand again. "But it's in the past. I've moved on as much as I can. You have to do the same."
He looked at her quizzically, and she explained.
"Guilt is written all over your face," she said. "Do you not think I've seen you lurking outside my house every year on this day for the last five years? I was wondering how many years it would take for you to get the courage up to knock."
Draco's mind reeled with her revelation. It was true; he had visited her house on the anniversary of her husband's death, though he thought he'd been more inconspicuous about it.
"I don't hate you either," she said softly. "I hate what you remind me of, but I don't hate you."
He pulled his hand from hers and stood. "I should go," he said.
She stood as well and led him back to the front door. Opening it, she reached for his hand again.
"You can come back," she said, "any time you like. You seem like you could use a friend, and perhaps seeing you more would put to rest the ghosts of the past."
Draco smiled genuinely for the first time in his visit and nodded. "I'd like that," he answered. He moved to step out the door, but Ginny pulled him back to her.
She tugged his hand, causing him to lean down slightly, and she brushed her lips across his cheek.
He knew there was nothing more to it than genuine kindness and friendship, but his cheek tingled just the same.
"Thank you for the flowers; they're lovely," she said finally. "The kids and I will take them to the cemetery later."
He smiled back at her, bowing slightly again.
"Good day to you, Mrs. Lupin," he said as he exited the house back into the cool, crisp March air.