Chapter Twenty-One: How It Ends?

". . . Then you'll need to destroy him."

"How?"

"I . . . you're a smart man, Blaise."

I pause, ready to accept my mission as I always knew I would. I take a breath to continue with the plans and to iron out all the details when I notice Ginny.

What have I done? I think to myself for the millionth time.

I look up to notice that Kingsley's talking again, but suddenly this is much more important.

"—What of Ginny?" I demand.

Kingsley abruptly stops, glancing at me briefly before gazing intently at his feet.

"You know as well as I do what they'll do to her," I insist forcefully, "Her family is known for its blood treachery and open opposition against the Dark Lord. You must have thought of something."

Slowly, his eyes lift to meet mine; but what I'm met with is a look of sorrow, the look one gives to a martyr.

"You can't mean . . ."

"No, I don't mean to doom her. She wouldn't survive any longer than they felt like torturing her."

"So, what then?"

"There's only one way, Blaise."

I glare at him. "What way."

Kingsley twitches and sucks in a quick breath, "My congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Blaise Zabini."

"—Excuse me?"

But even as the words leave my mouth, I know that he's right. It's the only way. I'm a highly celebrated Death Eater, killer of Dumbledore and allegedly my own mother. In the eyes of the Dark Lord, she's a lowly blood traitor, tainted by the sins of her family. They would like nothing more than to make a public example of her, and they will . . . just not as they would've originally planned. If I go and request her—remind him of the importance of pure bloodlines, the fighting spirit of the Weasley family, and the purifying quality of the Zabini name—he'll likely give her to me. We'll marry publicly and that will satisfy him . . . show them that everyone is subject to his new regime. They'll never take her seriously—not for years, anyway—but it will keep her safe while elevating my status.

Still, I can't help but feel guilty. Ginny, who's already been through so much—now roped to me and a game of power. She'll have to learn all the social codes that the Weasleys have long abandoned. I'll have to teach her to be a "perfect" pureblood wife, something she no doubt abhors. I am okay with throwing away my own life. I had, after all, planned on Azkaban. This . . . this isn't fair. Ginny never signed up for any of this, she's just in the wrong place and the wrong time.

"Ginny . . ." I don't dare to look at her.

Words just don't seem adequate, and the room falls silent. I won't be the first to shatter it: I don't have that right. I don't have it in me to force one more thing upon her. It's Kingsley who speaks up first.

"You have to decide now, Ginevra. You're an adult now, whether officially or not. You make your own choices. You don't have to marry Blaise, but I'll have to erase all memory of the wizarding world and place you in a muggle home otherwise. If Voldemort reads your mind and learns any of this, it jeopardizes everything."

"I . . ." Ginny falters.

I chance a look at her face, and I watch as surges of regrets, grief, and fear overcome her face.

"I promise I'll take care of you, Ginny," I suddenly blurt out, and I find that I mean every word, "I won't leave you. As long as I'm alive, I'll make sure you're okay."

She throws her hands to her sides. "And what of love?"

I sigh, full of remorse. "I . . . I don't . . ."

"Don't what?" This time her voice comes as nothing more than a whisper, as though she's desperate to hear what I have to say.

"I don't expect you to love me. I know you loved P . . . Harry. I know this is a lot, and I know that it will take time for either of us to walk away from this. I'm a wreck, Ginny, and to pretend otherwise is pointless."

"Oh."

"—But," I interject, "But maybe, given enough time and enough healing, maybe we could learn to love each other. Maybe . . . maybe I could be capable of loving you the way that a husband should love his wife after all. I want to make this work, Ginny."

She looks conflicted, glancing wildly from me to the door and back to me. I know it's a lot—I know we're not ready for this—but it's the only way now. I don't want her to have to sacrifice her magical heritage, it would just be one more thing on my conscience. I have to convince her that I mean it.

"I want to do this right." I stand up to my full height before dropping to one knee. I grasp her hand in mine and bring my lips to it. I never would have done this, ever. I would never have married; made sure that the Zabini bloodline was over for good. My parents and their mistakes would be practically undone for future generations. No one else would ever have to suffer the same things I did. I wanted my parent's legacy erased. I wouldn't have hit one knee. I don't hesitate now.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

Apparently, I did something right, because I receive a small smile from her, and she nods slowly.

"Blaise . . ." she falters, looking at me questioningly.

"Augustus," I provide.

"Blaise Augustus Zabini, I will."

I glance over at Kingsley and notice the dull look in his eyes that I brushed over earlier. He swallows slowly as though hoping not to draw attention to himself. He's smiling, but somehow I don't believe it. His expression, it's . . . tainted.

I pull Ginny into an embrace, ignoring her slight gasp of surprise. It dawns on me that Kingsley is a loose end, and he knows it. I suddenly recognize where I've seen that dull glint before: in my own reflection. The look on his face perfectly reflects the one on mine when I contemplated my stay in Azkaban; my demise. Gently pulling Ginny away, I turn my shoulders to face him. Still, he just stands there, his expression giving away what his words won't.

"No," I shout at him, "I won't do it!"

"What are you talking about, Blaise," Ginny wails beside me.

As gracefully as I can, I turn again to face her. "He wants me to kill him," I admit softly.

A dark look fills Kingsley's features. "It has to be done. I'm a loose end. I want you to save the world, but it will have to be without me."

I open my mouth to growl a response, but Ginny beats me to words.

"I'll do it. I'll—"

"—No!" I hear the sharpness to my voice, see the flinch she tries to hold back, but hurting her can't be helped this time. "It has to be me. I've already killed once—"

"—You didn't mean to! You admitted that to us! You didn't mean to!"

"It doesn't—" I roar, but then stop myself, forcing my words to come out softer despite the emotions that are raging through me right now. "It doesn't matter, not to me. I killed Dumbledore, and whether I did it on purpose or not—whether he meant for his life to end or not—it doesn't change what happened. I've already walked that path and let me tell you, you can't shake something like slaughter. When you've done what I've done, it stains you. I don't want you to have to bear that kind of weight. This is something that I must carry alone. Let me do this, Ginny. Please."

Ginny looks like she wants to say something, but she stays quiet. I want so badly for her to understand, but it's more important that she allow me to do this. I need to do this. I allow the needles of regret to slide their way into my heart, the stabbing pain of everything I've ever done. I feel the sting from Dumbledore's death, of my allegiance to the Dark Lord, of Draco, of betraying Hermione, of being in some way responsible for her and Harry Potter's death. I allow the waves of my disastrous failure to wash over me. It hurts. Merlin, it hurts! It reaches through so much of my life that there is nowhere to hide. I will not be responsible for blood on the hands of the woman I just swore to protect.

I turn to Kingsley, determination coursing through every movement.

"I'm ready. Goodbye, Blaise and Ginny, and good luck."

I nod solemnly and raise my wand. "Avada Kedavra." I really mean it, but there isn't even a shred of excitement.

I don't look at what I've done. I can't. Instead, I grab Ginny's hand and turn away, leading her farther into the woods. I hate the coward I've become but maybe that's how the world works. Maybe everything about my life was destined to fail, after all. I hope that Ginny will know someday that I tried. I wanted the best for the world, but I failed. I want her to know that maybe it wasn't my fault, after all, that maybe I did all I could. There is no certainty in my life; I see that now. I've lost so many things so quickly and I could easily lose her too. It's just . . . I want her to know the truth about me if we should part.

The End.

So there you have it, the entire story. Please review and maybe let me know what you think. Like I said earlier, I'm planning a sequel, but I literally haven't typed a single word of it, so it might be a while. Either way, thanks for reading my very first fan fiction and please do come back to read my second story whenever it appears. Bye!