Hi guys, here it is, the last chapter, the finale, of Fragments. I hope the ending scene doesn't beat you over the head too much. And I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 9: A Gala to Remember
"What's this?" I screamed down the stairs at Mum.
"It's a dress," Mum answered. "Reggie dropped it off while you were at work. Now put it on. We're going to be late!"
Horror filled me. "Late? Late for what?" She couldn't possibly expect me to go there, not now.
"We're going to Malfoy Manor. It's Friday, remember." She looked up at me with very hard eyes. "Now put that dress on!"
She did! She actually thought I was going to go there! "I'm not going. Hope you have a nice time." I gave her a smile as I turned away.
"Ginevra, if you don't put that dress on right now, I'm going to put it on you for you right here, in front of God and everybody!" We exchanged glares until she started up the stairs, then I squealed and fled to my room. I had my pride.
Safely behind my door, I could give in to secretly wanting to at least try the dress on, even if I didn't want to go to the Manor. It was a beautiful dress; Reggie was sure to get in the French Market.
The crooked hem made the otherwise conventional dress very risqué. When I twirled the hem flared out in a way that showed both the dress and my legs off at an advantage. I didn't know dresses could do that. And of course, just like expected, it couldn't fit more perfectly. The cloth slipped silently across my skin, sheathing me in a fine layer of silk. It felt like a cloud, and I felt like a goddess—albeit, a false one.
And the shoes, there weren't words in the English language to describe how perfect they were for me. The right was a plain red slipper, no heal, no sequences or bows. The left was also a slipper, but it laced up the leg tying in a bow just above my knee.
Instead of ripping it off and tearing the dress to shreds like I wanted, I began piling curls on my head. Mum said it would be disgraceful to go with my hair down. I let them drop and debated the more rebellious style. It's not like she could really complain about it, at least I was going to the stupid party.
Tingles ran up my spine, right up to the base of my skull where they fizzled out. It felt like goose bumps, but on the inside of my head instead of the outside of my skin. And then something clicked into place. It was like I'd been doing a puzzle, but I couldn't see what the picture was until one piece had been put in place. That was the feeling; I had found the most important piece and just put it in place.
"Do you understand the consequences of this spell? It's not easy magic. I'll need hours to complete it." Dumbledore looked down at me with kind understanding eyes. "But not only that, if you actively fight the spell and try to remember, then the chances are high that you will drive yourself insane."
I would have snorted at him if the situation had been any less serious. "There's no chance of that, not if you leave me with the memory of not wanting the memories." He still didn't look convinced that this was the only plausible course of action. "If you don't do this, Grimwauld Place will look like a minor mishap. How many meetins have I already sat in on? How much information do I already have? Voldemort will continue to use me against you. We can't break his spell. I'm a liability to the Order. The only other choice is to kill me." If I could just concentrate on proving my point to Dumbledore then I wouldn't have to think about what I'd done.
He sighed. "The others will have to be sworn to secrecy, but I agree with you. There isn't any other way." He sighed again, resigned now to the fact that I had come up with the only solution. "Alright, I must warn you though, there is a period after the spell is cast, while it is settling into you, you may forgot things that happened after the spell is cast."
"You're saying I might not remember Ron's wedding?"
Dumbledore nodded kindly. "Do you still want to go through with it?"
"There will be pictures." I would not mourn anymore, not the things I would give up, not the people upstairs, and not the memories I would never have. I would not mourn him. "I have to do this, to protect the people I love." Sure, that's the story I would tell.
"Ginevra." He knelt down and cupped my face in his hands. "It's not your fault. None of this happened because of you."
I would not cry. His hands were soft, cushioned by the many wrinkles. They were hands that had seen the truth in life, hands that had worked, loved, and survived. I would be like those hands, withered but alive. "Do it."
Long fingers, long and delicate, and pale. Not the hands of someone who had just barely survived. I took a deep breath and looked into the mirror. So I had been captured by Deatheaters and revealed important information. So the information I had leaked had lead to an attack on Grimwald Place? I fought the urge to throw up.
There were only so many things a girl could handle at a time. This one would have to wait until after the ball. Then I would have enough time to think through everything and figure out what should be done. I didn't have enough nerves left to be worried about this too.
I blinked and saw my reflection. Who would really even notice if I left my hair down? It looked pretty that way.
"Come on Ginny! It's time to go!" Mum shouted up at me, and I heard Dad grumble in the background.
"I don't want to go!" I shouted back down at her as if my reluctance wasn't already obvious.
"Get down here! If you wait any longer, I'm going to—"
"I'm coming, I'm coming." I walked slowly down the stairs. Maybe if we arrived in a big crush of people, I could sneak away. Or even better, late, then I wouldn't have to spend as much time trying to be nice to people I didn't even know.
Apparently I had an audience waiting for me to descend. Harry gulped, his eyes trailing up my legs and admiring the stunning shoes Reggie had created. Or at least I hope he was admiring the shoes. Mum smiled, and Dad gaped. He looked so very funny with his jaw falling off and his eyes popping out that a little burst of laughter escaped me.
"You look wonderful, Ginny." Harry smiled and offered me his arm. I tried to look gracious that he had agreed to accompany me to the ball, but I hadn't quite forgiven him for that conversation with Malfoy. On the other hand, I hadn't quite figured out the specifics of that conversation either. Maybe there wasn't as much to forgive as I thought, if I was lucky.
"Yes, you do, Ginny. You're beautiful." Mum swiped at her eyes.
"Well, shall we go?" I smiled as sincerely as I could which meant it wasn't sincere at all. Maybe the sooner we left, the sooner it would all be over? One could always hope.
Harry fidgeted, scuffing the floor with his black shoes. "Umm, I know you probably don't want to dance, but it's sort of tradition for the guest of honor and the host to share the first dance."
My smile was frozen in place. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, I don't dance."
"That's a load of rubbish." Mum stated bluntly and began hurrying us towards the door. "I happen to know that Malfoy is an excellent dancer, and tonight, you do dance." She had that give-me-nonsense-and-I'll-give-you-death look about her, the one even the twins didn't dare object to.
"Fine," I spit out through clenched teeth and crossed my arms. "That's just fine." But of course it wasn't; it wasn't at all.
The house looked so odd, so different from what I knew. All the candles flamed warmly, exorcising the mere thought of shadows. Gentle, happy music floated through the air, nothing at all like the haunting melody from my memories. And people, lots and lots of people roamed the grand ball room, chatting and laughing. It was alive now.
So why couldn't I stop thinking about that night? Why couldn't I stop myself from wishing everyone else gone, from wanting that haunting melody, from hoping for the darkness? Shivers crawled across my skin, the pleasurable kind, the kind one gets when one is about to get something long desired. But I didn't want anything. Especially not him.
Harry carefully excused himself from me, leaving me standing next to Mum in the giant crush of people I'd yearned for. A smile wouldn't come to my lips, so instead I tried to look merely bored. It was hard, but luckily most everyone left me alone, even if they did whisper behind their hands.
I wandered away. Perhaps if I could make a quiet exit, no one would think to come looking for me. Surely Draco could find someone else to dance with, someone bright and happy, someone willing, anyone not me.
"Not running away are you?" Speak of the devil, Draco appeared out of the crowd and at my side. "Can't have my Guest of Honor running away. It's bad for my reputation."
"Malfoy," Harry said disgustedly, appearing just in time to rescue me. Maybe he would be my knight in shining armor after all?
"Hello, Potter." Draco nodded respectfully. "Would you mind if I claimed the first dance?" He was actually asking permission from my escort! I was shocked.
Forced by the situation to be cordial, Harry said, "Not at all." They gripped each other's hands forcefully. Harry looked as if he wanted to say something else, but couldn't find the words.
"Don't worry, she'll be safe with me."
"You're the one I'm worried about, Malfoy." Harry growled, and an unspoken threat lingered in the air between them.
Draco bowed to Harry and then offered me his arm. "Shall we, Miss Weasley?"
Harry gave Draco my hand and walked away grumbling. I watched him, a bit lost as to what to do. This wasn't something I was prepared for, being abandoned, all alone with a stranger.
It wasn't quite eight yet, and people were still arriving, some apparating straight into the ballroom. We walked through the crowd at a very slow crawl; so many people wanted to stop and say hello to Draco. He glanced over at me a few times, concerned and loving. Something fluttered up in my stomach; nervousness, I tried to tell myself.
"Dance with me, Lady?" He asked. "I realize this is the last thing you want, but please, just tolerate my presence a little longer. Then you will be free of me, I promise." He whispered, leading me out onto the floor.
It was the same as that night, the music calling me, urging something deep inside of me to come out. And yet, it was an entirely different feeling because it wasn't some nameless yearning. Here in the arms of Draco, in the arms of safety, the music called for me to release everything and be free.
I couldn't resist the call of the music.
His hand was gentle as it took hold of my own, and his fingers were light upon my waist. "If you don't hold on to me, I'll fall down." I whispered to him. "I need some support." Why wouldn't he hold me close or tightly?
A smile crept onto his face and his hand tightened just a fraction. It wasn't enough, not for me. "Just don't forget to move your feet Miss Weasley."
We twirled slowly around the floor in an imitation of the real thing. "Why do you call me that? No one else does, and I call you Draco now."
There was a fair bit of space between us, as if he were afraid of getting too close. "Are we well enough acquainted for first names?" He dipped me back carefully. Why did he have to be so careful when I was ready to abandon everything in hid arms. My body ached for his, and I couldn't even show him!
"I would think so," I answered frustrated beyond endurance with the conversation. Of all the things we could have talked about, we were talking about names! I had to lock my arms to resist the temptation to shove him away. Or pull him closer.
"Then I will call you Ginny from now on." He smiled, but made no move to hold me closer to him like I wanted. I was practically vibrating with desire, or I would have been if I wasn't so desperate to control it. How could he just stand there?
I bit my lip, thinking. "Do you always have such a distance with your partner when dancing?"
His eyes never blinked, his step never faltered. "The last time you and I shared a dance it sparked a whole new wave of gossip. I thought to keep things less scandalous this time."
We were silent after that. He'd brought up the past, always a dangerous topic with me. And now I was lost in thinking about it, in thinking about our last dance and the passion we shared. I now realized it was with him I danced at Ron and Hermione's wedding reception. Then there was the night we shared together, but that was never far from my thoughts it seemed. And all the memories I'd been discovering. I pushed that thought away and tried to concentrate on the music.
But the twirl of the music around us didn't help at all. Soft, light, gentle, it was like a light breeze on a nice spring day. No heat, no controversy, no passion, there was nothing to get lost in. It was none of the things I appreciated in dance music and none of the things I needed now.
The music drew to a close, and our audience clapped for us. It was the polite clap of a bored audience. "I guess it was an okay dance," I said to Draco.
"Okay?" His forehead wrinkled in confusion. "You didn't like it?"
"To be honest? A dance should make one feel alive, to make them notice everything and nothing at the same time. It should so totally enthrall the dancers that they are lost in it, caring about nothing else." I shrugged at him. "Besides, this dress was made to be shown off with something flashy. Reggie would be disappointed otherwise."
He didn't smile as I'd hoped. "Well, perhaps your escort will be more accommodating then I." Draco bowed over my hand and walked off into the crowd, leaving me alone.
First, I didn't want to see him, but he came anyway. He marched right out of the crowd at me looking like he wanted nothing more then my company. And then I didn't want him to leave. I didn't want him to let go, to turn away, and disappear back into that crowd. Would I never get what I wanted?
And I came to the realization as I watch Draco walk away from me that I might never be happy. Whenever I wanted peace and quiet, I was stuck in a large crowd of chatty people. But then when I wanted the loud noise, I was left alone with so much more then just solitude. Draco always left the moment I realized I wanted him close by. And of course Harry would be there in his stead.
"Would you like to dance again, Ginny?" Harry offered me his hand.
I said yes just to have something to do.
The colors of the room swirled together, and the noises become one loud blur as the night progressed. I lost myself in the arms of too many partners and in the bottoms of too many drinks. Somehow my smile never faltered, it never changed, and it never disappeared. But my laugh always sounded fake, and there was always something empty inside.
"I need a breath of air." I smiled breathlessly at the partner of the moment.
He led me out onto the balcony. "Would you like some company?" He asked just like a gentleman.
"No, thank you, I need a moment to refresh myself. The crowd inside is a bit stifling, but I don't want to deprive you of its entertainments." No one had noticed I was playing a role, that I was pretending to be one of the heroines of an historical romance.
I was the belle of the ball, completely charming, delightful, and witty. Everyone wanted to dance with me, to talk to me, and to ask to be allowed to call on me the next day. But I was waiting for that one gentleman who would sweep me off my feet, who would make the room spin just by standing next to me, who would ease the loneliness inside of me.
Too bad he was busy talking to the other gentlemen in the room.
It was so late that everything beyond the ballroom, the flowers, bushes, and sculptures were all shadows. Dark and imposing and beautiful, I wanted to go out and join them, but that would have been a very stupid idea. For a moment I closed my eyes and breathed in the sweet scent of freedom.
I tried to open my eyes, but a heavy cloth bound them closed. It smelled like stale urine, fear, and blood, lots of blood. The sour scent frightened me. I was in the hands of the Deatheaters.
"Hello, Ginevra," It was a voice far worse then any sound; it grated against my nerves far worse then someone dragging their nails across a chalkboard very slowly. "Will you not greet me in return? It's only polite."
"Hello," I whimpered.
"Good. Now tell me, what is the good Professor up to? What mission has he sent you on tonight?" My skin crawled as Voldemort lifted my hand. "Such beautiful fingers you have."
"I'm not telling you anything." I spit out through clenched teeth.
He slowly bent one backwards until it started to hurt. "Are you sure, my child?"
"Yes," I growled.
The blindfold was ripped from my head, taking with it several strands of my hair. "Were you sent to gather information?" I gripped the arms of the chair tightly. "Answer my, Ginevra."
"No."
"Were you meeting someone? Do not lie to me." He forced my chin upwards so that he could stare into my eyes. The devil couldn't have worse eyes then him. "Surely by now, you are old enough not to believe in the devil anymore."
"The devil exists; I'm looking at him." Pain lanced through my body, contorting every inch of me, and I screamed.
"Who were you going to meet?" He demanded, and the pain lessened although it didn't disappear.
"I'm not telling you." I glared.
"You will tell me everything you know, Ginevra. You will talk until you have nothing more to say, and still you will talk. You will talk to stop the pain, and I shall enjoy it.
"You'll have to kill me because I won't tell you anything." They were brave and foolish words, but I intended to hold to them as long as I could.
"Who were you meeting?" He ran one long, cold finger across my cheek.
"I'm not telling you." I repeated the words over and over, focusing everything on that one sentence.
"She doesn't know. I do believe Dumbledore is getting smart." Several people in the room laughed, and the horrible laughter echoed.
Voldemort put two fingers at my temples and pushed. It felt like two nails being drilled into my skull. "The parchment in your pocket, please, Ginevra." His voice was always polite, but the words still sent shivers across my skin.
"I can't move my hands."
"Oh," He sighed and smiled. "Then I shall have to take it out." His cold hand crept slowly into my pocket, the chill sinking into my thigh. A malicious grin curled upon his lips. "Well isn't this just wonderful, Number Twelve Grimwald Place, headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix."
"NO!" I screamed.
Everything went black again.
I clutched a hand to my throat.
"I'm hardly concerned that she'll remember, Severus. Bella happens to be terribly proficient with that lovely little spell. She'll not be able to speak of what she has betrayed, even if she does remember. Now, return her. We mustn't alert those fools as to our plans."
"Yes, Master." Snape bowed and lifted me carelessly from the floor.
For a moment I didn't see anything but the blackness of the garden in front of me. I couldn't hear anything but the unsteady beat of my heart. The Deatheaters had caught me, I had given information to Voldemort himself, and then I hadn't told the Order what had happened. I only said that the mission had been an absolute failure and cried.
My heart beat louder. They'd had a plan to invade headquarters and destroy everything. And I had given them the key. I could heard the sounds of people hitting the floor, no, not people, bodies. Green flashes of light bounced around the living room that Mum had spent so much time trying to clean. Then there was the screaming.
But another sound broke through my shock, and I turned to the light.
"Ginny, have you been out here long?" Harry moved with big strides to my side. "Why are you so pale? Did you wear yourself out dancing too much? You're cold. Are you alright?"
It dawned on me. "I shouldn't remember. Dumbledore said if I fought against his spell I would go insane. But I didn't fight it! I didn't want to remember! I don't want to remember!" All those bodies covering the floor, the blood staining the carpets, Mum weeping and holding on to Dad, I shouldn't remember any of it.
Harry put his arms around me. "What are you talking about? What do you remember?"
"He died." My breathing came fast, in loud gulps. "Lance died, protecting Draco. He died." I couldn't get any air in my lungs. "I betrayed them and he died!" I ripped myself away from Harry.
"Ginny—"
"What have I done?" I had to leave. I couldn't look them, not anymore. The shit had really hit the fan.
And with a loud pop I was gone.
A rumbling rocked the dirty walls around me, and I spun around trying to find the source. There weren't too many people around me, just a few girls dressed in tank tops and mini skirts and a gang of boys in baggy pants dripping in chains. The air smelled of stale smoke, and the breeze blowing by wasn't cold. The rumbling came again just as loud as before.
No mistaking this as anything other then the London Underground, that was for sure. Even though I'd never seen it before, Harry had shared enough stories about it. He said it was the easiest place in London to get lost. Perhaps that why I ended up there.
I wanted to be lost. I wanted no one to ever find me again. I didn't deserve their love. No wonder Draco wouldn't hold me close. He had finally realized that I didn't deserve him, that I would never deserve him. After all, it was my fault that Lance had died. I had betrayed them, and he had paid the price for my betrayal.
And Lance had been protecting Draco. Lance had known that if Draco died so would I. He had seen that I would not be able to live without the man I loved. But how could I live with the guilt of Lance's death on my soul? I didn't deserve to live.
"Why, 'ello Missie, where might you be headin'?"
I flipped around to face the disembodied voice. It came from a lumpy pile of rags I hadn't noticed before. "Excuse me?"
"Ya looked a mite confused and a whole lot lost. Where ya headed? Maybes I can help." A dirty bum poked his head out of the pile; I never would have noticed him otherwise.
"I think I can figure it out for myself." He shrugged, and I studied the map hoping for an idea of where to go. Not that it mattered, I just needed to get away from him so he wouldn't ask me anymore questions.
The map was just a bunch of lines, green, blue, orange, yellow, and brown. They didn't actually go anywhere either from what I could tell, just it places like Piccadilly Square. That didn't tell me anything. But the longer I stood there the more I remembered. Lance had once gone to Piccadilly Square, and I had killed Lance.
No wonder I hadn't wanted to remember him. My bright red leaf only served to point out what an ugly brown one I was. How everyone must hate me.
After a few minutes the old bum spoke up again. "Come off it Missie, let me help ya. Where ya headed?" His voice sounded familiar.
"Nowhere," I admitted and sat on the rags next to him.
"Tha'right? Well, I canna give you directions, if I don't know where you're going. But this line be the blue line." He offered with a shrug of his boney shoulders. "'Haps yous looking for a place to get a hot meal? I can help ya with that." He suggested with a kind smile.
"As far from here," I put my finger randomly on one of the dots. "As possible." What did it matter where I was going, I just need to get as far away from annoying helpful bums as I possible could!
"You on the run, ain't'cha? And by the looks of it, from sumthin' bad." He shook his head disapprovingly.
"I'm not running!" He raised an eyebrow at me. "And even if I was, it's none of your business."
"But ya still runnin', pro'lly from some poor bloke. Seems to me you's is always runnin' from some poor bloke."
He was making me angry. "I don't need this! I've just had the worst night of my life, and I don't need you to make it any worse." I got up and stomped down the hall.
"Wait! Wait Missie!" He called after me. "I dunna mean to be rude. It canna be that bad."
I bent down and curled up in a tiny little ball right there in the middle of the London Underground. That bad? It was certainly bad, but how bad? As bad as I thought? No, worse.
"Missie?" He called again sounding concerned.
"I did something," Tears welled up, and I thought I hadn't any left to shed. "And I thought it was the right thing, you know?" It didn't take to much energy to turn to look at him, and besides, I wanted to see his reaction to what I did. I wanted to see the disgust on his face when he finally understood that it was that bad. "But I ended up hurting everyone I love, really badly. I betrayed everyone, even the man I loved. How do you deal with that?" The tears fell, and the old man hobbled over to my side.
"Ya canna deal with it, not by yeself. Ye gotta remember, ya not alone. Ya got people who love ya, pro'lly a lot. Ya canna just run away from 'em, s'not fair to 'em." He pulled me up so I could stand, even if I couldn't keep standing by myself.
The tears fell harder. "Somebody died, because of what I did. Nobody is going to forgive me for that, and it's not like I can fix it." He wasn't going to understand, was he?
"Well, no, you canna fix that, but can ya do it again?"
"Kill somebody else!" I shouted and half stepped half pushed away from him. The old man didn't even budge. "How can you ask something like that? I can't live with the first person I've killed so why would I do it again?"
He sighed with his whole body and it looked like he might fall over. Instinctively I moved to help him stand. "Was it somebody you liked a lot? Ya miss him."
"Yea, I did. I do. He was my best friend."
"Well, ya certainly didna killed 'im on purpose then, didja? Would 'e want ya to be so unhappy 'cause he died?"
"No, he died protecting someone close to me. He died to protect Draco, the man I love." I leaned my head on his shoulder; the old bum was taller then he looked. "But how can my family forgive me for what I've done? How can the continue to love me?"
"You canna chose who you love or who loves you. You can only accept their love, 'cause it isn'ta goin' away."
I looked up at him. He wasn't as old as I thought he was either. "You think they'll forgive me?"
He smiled.
"Ginny! Ginny!" Harry came running up, gasping and looking frazzled.
"Don't'cha be forgetting the rules now. Yous a goddess now." The old bum whispered in my ear, and I thought I felt him kiss my cheek.
"Are—are you—are you alright, Ginny?"
"Harry," I managed my first genuine smile of the evening. "What are you doing here?"
"I came looking for you. Are you alright?" He held on tightly to my shoulders, staring in my eyes to see if I was lying.
"Do you forgive me? For Lance's Death, for the attack on Headquarters, for—"
"Of course!" He interrupted, yanking me into a hug. "You're like a sister to me Ginny. You were as much a victim in that as the rest of us were. I'm sure if you were able to keep the information from Voldemort, you would have. You're my sister, Ginny, and I love you." He looked like he was going to cry. "Are you alright?"
"I think I'm alright now," I said as the truth dawned on me. Why else would Mum have gone to such lengths to protect me from everyone? Why else would Dad make sure I didn't have to deal with the press every time there was a ministry event? Why else would Harry come to visit so often? My family might not be able to say it, but they showed their love in undeniable ways.
"Just a minute and we can go back to the party. I want to say good-bye to—" I turned around to look at the man. "He's gone!" The whole pile of rags was gone, and the old man was no where to be seen! "Where'd he go?"
"Who?" Harry asked, very confused.
I was no less confused but I couldn't very well explain a disappearing man to Harry. I shook my head at the empty spot on the floor and vowed to thank the old bum somehow. "Let's go back."
The party was still in full swing when we came back, and that was good news for me. Both Mum and Draco spotted me the moment I entered the ballroom, and their worry turned to relief. But I didn't want them to worry. I was a big girl, and I could take care of myself. Draco had been right when he said I would have done better with a homeless bum. After all, it was a bum who pointed out Lance's love for me.
They hadn't done very much to help me. When I needed a good kick on the bum, all they had done was gently pat my hand. Right now, all I wanted was a little time alone to sort through everything. And if I had learned one thing in the last three years, it was how to be alone in a crowd. But they both started making their way over to me even thought Harry kept shaking his head at them. I could see the intent to protect me, even from across the room. That was the last straw; I was going to prove my independence here and now.
"Mum! Dad! Draco! And Harry! We are all here, together." I was just a little too happy sounding.
"Are you alright?" Dad asked nervously. And he had every right to be nervous.
"I'm just fine." I beamed at them. "I wanted to talk to you; I learned a few things tonight." So I might have been a teeny bit on the loud side, and I might have been calling a little bit of attention to myself. "Mum, you make horrible rhubarb pie, really. Don't ever make it again. It's bad for people's health. And Dad, did you know—"
Draco grabbed my arm and hauled me off to a side room. "What are you doing? Do you want to embarrass your whole family in front of everyone?"
"I've remembered." My voice was icy cold. "I've remembered everything, just like you wanted. Are you unhappy now?"
"I only wanted what was best for you." He defended himself, looking very tired.
"So you took matters into your own hands, like when you put that potion in Hermione's shampoo." I accused him, looking every bit as intimidating as I could.
"You can't hold that against me! She thought Ron didn't like her because her hair was too frizzy! I did her a favor. Someone had to help them!" He motioned wildly. "The tension between them was so thick even I couldn't stand it!"
I stepped closer to him. "You have a really shitty facade. I've been able to see through you since I started to live near you. How no one else saw it, I don't know because that mask you wear is really shitty."
He looked so much smaller, his face was pale and his eyes wide with apprehension. But then I would have been fearful too, when faced with someone like me. It was time the rest of the world saw the man that I did in Draco Malfoy. I marched over to the door and threw it open.
By this time I had the attention of everyone in the room. "Did you know, that Draco Malfoy, the man most of you still have nightmares about spent an entire night filling out reports that I didn't have time to do? Did you know that he spends most of his time worrying more about everyone else then he does about himself? That during the way, this man saved more lives the most people will ever know? And he cast a spell of an old bum in the London Underground."
"Stop it Ginny," He said softly to me. "That was a long time ago, I'm not that man anymore. I'm not as strong as that anymore, and I care a far fewer things then I did then."
"You had to have cast that spell sometime in the last week!" I raged at him. "I heard you talking to Harry."
"I did cast that spell because I was worried about you. I didn't want you to run off and get hurt. It was supposed to detain you long enough for Harry to find you, and maybe help you to see the truth." He shrugged. "And to tell you the truth, yesterday feels like a lifetime ago. Maybe it was." He walked away.
As the crowd parted for him, allowing him the getaway he wanted, I saw something new. Or maybe it wasn't as new as I thought. His head was bent down, but not quite staring at the ground. It was the stature of a man who has just lost everything, but must still find the strength to go on. It was a man in love.
"Why?" I asked, needing the answer perhaps more then I needed anything before. How could a man like him, a man so—so wonderful, fall in love with a girl so broken?
He raised his head and turned around. "Why?" Draco repeated, dumbfounded. I could see it there in his eyes, the years of love and devotion, and it was heartbreaking. And he must have seen something in my eyes too, because he smiled.
It was in that smile that I took the second step in getting over the death of Lance. The first was understanding that people loved me, and the second was understanding why. There, in Draco's smile and in his eyes, I could see the answer. He loved me for the respect I showed him, for my dependence on him, for the times we spent in laughter, and the times we spent in tears. He loved me not inspite of my faults, but because of them.
There was only one question to ask now.
"When did you first love me?"
"I don't know. It's not like one day I didn't and the next I did. It's not like you did something and I loved you for it." His eyes turned the softest shade of silver. "You were the only one I thought would listen to me when I wanted to join the Order. I thought that because you were the only one who would actually look me in the eye. You made me…" He shook his head and then looked up. "You let me earn my way into your good graces. It was all the little things you did, and all the little things you didn't do. It was the way you got angry when I didn't tell you I was on a mission, and the way you would bit your lip when I did." He gave me that smile again, the one full of innocence and hope. Hard to imagine a man like him actually have those two things, but he did.
And then he turned away and began walking again. I had to do something; I couldn't just let him leave me. Because this time it would be forever. And that little part of me, where I was hiding all the little secrets from myself was disappearing. And my heart was breaking.
"I remember when I knew you loved me." I'm sure he could see the tears in my eyes, even from the other side of the room. "It was when you showed me the rose garden, I called you a friend and then you squeezed my waist."
He wouldn't meet my eyes, not even from that distance. But his voice carried across the room. "I wanted more then your friendship."
"I've really messed it up now, haven't I?" I whispered to my beautiful gown.
Draco stood there, tall and proud. His voice was strong and didn't waver as he continued to speak. "I'm too tired of this Ginny. I'm too tired of following you around, of trying to get you to come out of your shell. I'm too tired to tell you what to do, to argue and fight with you. Too tired to make you smile. You're always running away from everyone, your parents, Harry, me. And I'm just so tired of chasing you. This is it, it's over." And he was gone.
Mum handed me a cup of coca back at home. "Don't think too much about it darling, I'm sure everything has worked out for the best."
I think I just grunted at her, but I'm not really sure. He looked so sad, so dejected from across the ballroom. And even though he had been so far away, I could still picture the expression on his face, the lonely shadows on his checks, half-lidded eyes, and the thinly pressed lips.
"You get some rest, everything will be better in the morning, just you see if it isn't." She tucked the blanket in around me, smiled sadly, and left.
All alone for the first time all night, and I only wanted some company, the irony. He said he was tired of chasing me, that I was always running. Well maybe I was, but didn't I have a good excuse? Didn't I have something worth running from? Wasn't death worthy?
"But ya still runnin', pro'lly from some poor bloke. Seems to me you's is always runnin' from some poor bloke."
Was running ever worth it? Or were the things worth running from the things most worth turning and facing? Was I just being a fool or was I actually in the right?
I buried my head in my knees. Did it even matter now if I was in the right or not? Draco thought I was running from him, and he was obviously not going to chase me anymore. I had officially lost him. I had lost him just as well and truly lost Lance. At this rate I'd lose Harry too, and then I'd really be all alone.
"Ye gotta remember, ya not alone. Ya got people who love ya, pro'lly a lot. Ya canna just run away from 'em, s'not fair to 'em."
The old bum was right; it wasn't fair to run from them. And if I wanted Draco in my life I was going to have to stop running. No, not stop running, that was something I couldn't afford to do. If I stopped then I would certainly lose Draco forever. But if I turned around and kept on running, maybe I could catch him before he go too far.
The piano was playing in Malfoy Manor, the same creaking melody from a night I now cherished instead of feared. This time it was sad, and I was able to recognize that not all was as lost as I might have feared. I didn't need it this time to guide me to the music room. Even if I never entered this house again, I would still know how to get there.
He turned to look at me the moment I stepped in the room, but didn't say a word. He didn't move; he didn't smile. And for a moment I feared for the worst. "Hello," I said.
"Hello," He closed his eyes for a moment, and then asked the question. "What are you doing here?"
"Well," I paced across the room to stand in front of him, to face this great fear of mine. "All that stuff you said about me running, well, you were right." I paused to gather my strength. "But that's all in the past now. And I'm tired of running."
"You're still running." He scorned. "You're just running to get away from the loneliness now." His fingers traced the piano keys as he turned away.
I bit my lip, hurt at his angry words. But I wasn't going to run; I was going to see this out until the end. "I might be running from something, but it's not loneliness. I don't need to run from that, I've already lived with it for three years."
He slammed on the keys loudly, angrily. "What is it then? Lance's death? Voldemort? Harry? Me?"
"Harry? UNnlikely, he doesn't seem to understand how to deal with me, but he's trying. Voldemort? Maybe, but he has no power over me, except in my dreams. I'll admit, the dreams can be terrifying. Lance? Well, I think that is something that I won't stop running from for a long time. That's something that even time might not be able to heal."
I stepped up to the bench and looked down at him. This seemed to be the most important thing I could say all night. "But make no mistake, this time I'm certainly not running from you." He looked at his eyes dark, perhaps with hope, perhaps with anger. "I'm tried of looking back; I want to move on."
He sucked in his breath and sat a little straighter. "Of course, one shouldn't live in the past."
The tears nearly fell. My heart nearly exploded. I nearly ran away. "There's just one thing I can't go on without though, and that's you. Maybe I didn't know it until you yelled at me this evening, maybe I was too blind, too selfish to see it, but I do now." This was it, my last hope. Everything was riding on it. "I love you, Draco."
"What?" He said in a sort of breathless tone.
"I love you." The tears did fall then.
His arms snaked around my waist, and Draco yanked me to him. "I never thought I'd hear you say those words again." His kiss was sweet, and his murmurs sincere, and at that minute, that's all that mattered.
The End
It is at this moment that I would like to ask how you liked this last little bit. Was it enjoyable? Did it wrap everything up? Did it make sense? I would also like to say, that endings are the hardest things, ever, to write. I spent so much time on this...it has changed so much from the first rough draft. I can't even begin to remember all the changes I've made. So, I hope you like it.
Allychik6