Wherever You Will Go Chapter 4: Ginevra Molly Malfoy, a harry potter fanfic

Ginevra Molly Malfoy

At twelve thirty Ron knocked on their bedroom door. With his eyes squeezed shut he pushed it open.

"Right. Gin, Malfoy, stop whatever you're doing and get up!" he said, attempting to put some semblance of authority into his voice. For additional protection against the sight of his sister in bed with Malfoy, he covered his still tightly shut eyes with his hand. "If you don't hurry up we'll be late."

"She's not going, Weasley," Draco said quietly, his back facing Ron. Ron's face flushed with anger. He did put up with Malfoy for Ginny, most of the time, but sometimes the git had it coming.

"Yes she bloody well is," Ron said through gritted teeth. "Unless Ginny says she doesn't feel up to it and even then I'm going to be right-"

"Ron," Draco interrupted softly. Ron's ears snapped to attention. Draco never called him Ron, unless Molly was giving Draco that look. "She's not going anywhere anymore."

"W-w-what?" Ron croaked, dropping his hand from his eyes. He walked around to the other side of the large bed and looked upon Ginny's pale face. "Gin, wake up." When she didn't respond he called her again, louder this time.

Ginny's eyes remained closed, her body unmoving. Ron's eyes bulged, his mouth dropping open. He backed away from the bed, knocking into a cabinet. A single photograph of Draco and Ginny fell to the ground. The glass shattering over their smiling faces. Ron slid down the wall, his eyes locked on Ginny.

"What the hell is taking you so …long?" Fred asked as he bustled into the room, taking in the scene before him: Ron slumped against the wall, his face tear streaked; Draco holding Ginny tightly in bed; the broken photograph.

"I'll call mum," Fred croaked, swallowing loudly. He turned quickly on his heels, almost tripping on his own feet, and walked stiffly from the room.

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A dressed Draco rummaged through his wife's drawers searching for something for her to wear. The purple nightgown that he had discarded earlier just wasn't suitable. He settled on a long emerald nightgown with a more modest cut instead.

Gently he dressed his wife before lifting her into his arms, her head nestled safely in his chest. He carried her slowly down the stairs to where many tear stained Weasleys awaited him. As he stepped off the final stair, Ginny's lifeless arm slipped of her silk-covered stomach, hanging limply. He felt her cooling fingers brush his leg as her arm swayed gently. Gingerly Harry moved forward and slowly lifted her thin arm, resting it safely on her abdomen.

Draco walked purposefully through the home he had shared with the woman cradled in his arms, to the fireplace. On the mantle sat a golden disc. A Weasley, he wasn't sure which one, he only saw the hair, slipped the golden disc between his fingers. With a muttered word, Draco activated the Portkey, sending him instantaneously to St. Mungo's.

"Mr. Malfoy," a nurse cried, running to greet him. "Bring Mrs. Malfoy this way. We'll have our finest healer assigned to her."

"That won't be necessary," Draco said coldly. "If you would point me in the direction of the morgue, I will leave you to tend to other patients."

The nurse faltered as a series of loud 'pops' echoed through the disinfected halls. Looking from Ginny to Draco and then behind them at Ginny's family, the nurse stuttered, "Mr. Malfoy, I can't- can't possibly allow you-" Draco fixed the small woman with a deathly glare. She gulped and caved beneath it.

"Follow me," she said softly.

Wordlessly Draco followed the nurse to the lower levels of St. Mungo's, his slightly heeled shoes clacking loudly on the hard floor. The morgue attendants silently moved out of Draco and the swarm of Weasley's way, as they entered the cold room.

Gently and carefully Draco laid Ginny on one of the silver gurneys. He slowly lowered her head, brushing stray strands from her face. He brushed a soft kiss on her forehead before turning on his heel and walking out, his cloak billowing behind him.

Hundreds attended Ginny's funeral. Many of the surviving faces from the war had come to bid her farewell, as well as many who wished to pay their respects to the Weasley family. Draco stood stoically throughout, his face expressionless. The funeral passed in a blur. He remembered nothing clearly; but knew that he had risen to give his eulogy and could vaguely remember others do the same. He remembered shaking countless people's hands but could see no faces. All the voice of condolences merged. He didn't cry: Malfoys never cried.

Three days later, the Weasleys and Draco met to lay fresh flowers on her grave. Each in turn went up laying a bunch, but Draco came forward and laid a single flower. A frangipani. Her favourite. He laid the flower with great care and stood, turning to leave.

"You're not going to stay a bit longer?" Arthur asked softly, his voice choked from his tears. Draco froze.

"Why should I?" he asked coldly.

"What do you mean why should you?" Ron almost yelled. Hermione grasped his forearm, stopping him from moving forward.

"Why should I?" Draco repeated, chuckling coldly. "I'm glad she's dead," A collective gasp came from the Weasleys. "I'm free of her now. No longer bound to a pathetic Weasley. I hate her," he spat, turning back to the white marble gravestone. The golden words "Ginevra Molly Malfoy", met his gaze, shimmering in the morning sun. "You hear that?" he yelled at the gravestone. "I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU! I'M GLAD YOU'RE DEAD!"

The Weasleys stared at the normally emotionless man, frozen in shock as he yelled.

"You're a bloody liar! You promised!" he screamed, his face an uncharacteristic shade of red from the exertion. "You promised you would never leave me!" Draco collapsed onto the grass, tears streaming down his face. "I fucking hate you, you liar," he sobbed. "You promised you would never leave me. How am I meant to live without you?"

Molly moved forward, dropping forward and embracing Draco as he cried. She stroked his hair as he sobs increased in volume. "I don't know how to live without you."

After a while he quieted down in Molly's arms and she hauled him up, leading him to an

apparition point. She apparated him to the Burrow, afraid he would splinch himself in his unstable state. As soon as he recognized his surroundings, Draco made his way up the stairs to Ginny's childhood room.

Molly followed quickly picking up a leather bound diary from the kitchen table as she went.

"Draco," she said sitting down beside him on Ginny's bed. He didn't turn to her or even acknowledge that she had walked in, but Molly knew he was listening. "In Ginny's will," She felt him stiffen beside her. "She left certain…instructions. She wanted you to read this. I think it's her diary. She said it was for you and only you to read."

Molly took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that had swelled in her eyes the moment she entered her daughter's room. She placed the diary into his hands and stood. "Draco," she said, as she reached the doorway, not bothering to turn around. "You will always be welcome here. Remember that."

He looked at the book in her hand. He recognized it all to well. Ginny had bought it in Rome on their Honeymoon. She had written in it everyday, but had never allowed him to read it before. She even put magical locks on it to stop him.

There were no locks now. The diary fell open easily. He turned to the first page and was met with Ginny's neat hand. He inhaled sharply at the expected sight.

Dear Draco,

I thought about making a diary of the last years of my life but found that I couldn't, so I have decided that this is b not /b a diary but letters to you.

At the moment we're in Italy on our Honeymoon. I'm watching you right now as you storm around the room, ranting about 'bloody Muggles and their dangerous contraptions'. We've been here three days and this is the first time you've complained (okay not the first time but this is your first big rant) about the Muggles. I thought you did a commendable job (by your standards at least). Although I did think you were going to have permanent wrinkles on your nose from all the scrunching you did on the aeroplane trip over here…

He read for hours, sitting upon Ginny's childhood bed, oblivious to the darkening of the night sky. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as he read Ginny's words. He could hear her voice in his head as he read.

Sometimes I wonder what our children would have looked like. Would they have had the flaming Weasley hair or platinum blond like yours or something in between? Would they have had your brilliant silver eyes? Would they sneer? Be a catcher or a seeker? Gryffindor or Slytherin? Maybe Ravenclaw? I'd love to see your face if they were in Hufflepuff! Would we have a beautiful little girl or a handsome little boy? I wonder what they would be like. What they would like, how they would speak, what their little friends would be like. I know that it's stupid and pointless seeing as how we will never have any children but I still wonder sometimes. I know you'll be a great father to some lucky kids one day. I just hope they know how lucky they are…

Draco felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest while he read. Her 'letters' were riddled with hopes for him after she was gone. Career, love, marriage, children. He'd never though about any of it. Life without her was incomprehensible. Worthless. He couldn't do it. She had been his life since the moment he awoke to her voice in 12 Grimmauld Place.

Molly watched her one and only son in law, read her daughter's final message to him. She swore to herself that she would stop at nothing to fulfill the promise she had made to her Ginny, mere weeks ago.

"Promise me that you'll look after him, mum," she had said steadily, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Promise me that you'll make sure he's happy. That he finds someone," Molly watched helplessly as tears began to roll down her beautiful little girl's face. She seemed so much older than her twenty years. "Don't let him push everyone away," Molly couldn't hold back her sob as she listened to her daughter's words. "Promise me that you'll make sure that he has everything that we couldn't."

She had promised of course and she now watched as the man her daughter had loved, sobbed on her beloved baby's bed. She watched as he reached the final pages, reading the heartfelt words through bleary eyes.

So lately, I've been wondering, who will be there to take my place. When I'm gone, you'll need love to light the shadows on your face. If I could, then I would I'd go wherever you will go. Way up high or down low, I'll go wherever you will go. And maybe, I'll find out, a way to make it back someday. To watch you, to guide you: through the darkest of your days.

If a great wave shall fall upon us all, then I hope there's someone out there who can bring me back to you.

But I know now, just quite how, my life and love might still go on. In your heart, in your mind, I'll stay with you for all of time but if I could I'd go wherever you will go. I'll go wherever you will go.

I love you, my Draco.

A/N: The final entry is an edited version of The Calling's, Wherever You Will Go.