Chapter 34:

When I'm sinking like a stone
how far will you let me fall
before you pull me back to your body

You'll never know
until you breathe my breath
what it means to really be alone.

When I'm going down
how long will you let me drown
before you put the lid back on the bottle

-Stabilo Boss- "Stone"

Ginny stood in front of her bathroom mirror, pulling her long red tresses over her left shoulder and sliding through the strands with her paddle-brush, tugging through the knotted ends. After weeks of not seeing Harry for more than a few minutes at a time, he had finally convinced her to go out.

"You need to take a break sometime, Gin. You can't work yourself to death." He had argued, and with a laugh, she had agreed.

She stared blankly at her reflection and set her brush down on the counter, her conversation with Luna still bothering her. They had spoken only thirty minutes ago, when Luna had Flooed to ask if Ginny wanted to come over for dinner and girl-time.

"I'm sorry, Lu. I told Harry that I'd meet him for dinner. We haven't been on a date in ages."

Her blond friend had looked at her strangely. "Oh, I thought that you might want to come over to talk. You were pretty upset yesterday."

Ginny nodded. "I'm fine now. I think that I just need to see Harry. I miss him."

Luna frowned at her for a long time, considering. "Gin, are you sure that you're not using him?"

"Using him?"

"You haven't seen him for weeks, you've been pushing him away, and then you get into an argument with Draco and you're…"

"I'd never do that to Harry," Ginny gasped. "You know that."

"—Not intentionally."

Ginny snapped back to the present, shaking her head to clear it. Deciding to leave her face clear of makeup and glamours, she made her way into her bedroom, riffling through her closet for her favorite pair of jeans and a modest black shirt.

She dressed herself slowly and slid her feet into simple black flats. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she walked to the door of her flat. When she made it to the outside hall, she locked her door and began the short trek to the Apparation point.

"I'm not using him," Ginny whispered to herself, pulling her wand from the front pocket of her purse and Disapparating.

She sat quietly across from her date, smiling at him gently. The Three Broomsticks was alive with activity, and Ginny had to lean forward to hear what Harry was saying as he told her some story about a recent meeting with Remus Lupin.

It was comfortable here; the pub was filled with warm yellow lighting, cushioned chairs, and raucous noise. It reminded her of the Burrow. That was exactly why she didn't like it, and why she supposed Harry did.

"Har, do you think that we could go somewhere else next time?" she asked bluntly.

"What? Why? I thought you liked it here."

"I do," she lied, "but sometimes I like a little change, you know?"

"Yeah…Why don't we switch off? You choose where we go for one date and then I choose the next time," he offered, and Ginny sighed in relief.

"Sounds great," she said, bringing her butterbeer up to her lips and sipping at it. She peered at him over her glass, studying his dark hair and high cheek bones. "You promised that you would tell me about what you did when you were gone on our next date," she said over the glass's rim, her voice sounding almost teasing, lightening the heaviness of her suggestion.

"I did, didn't I?" he responded playfully, a boyish grin spreading his thin lips.

Ginny laughed lightly. "Don't give me that look!"

"What look?"

"That little boy look! You're not getting out of this, Potter," she joked, pointing at him.

Harry wrapped his fingers around hers, holding her hand in his against the table top. Ginny fought the urge to pull away from him as he caressed the top of her hand with his thumb. He pouted slightly and frowned.

"I won't judge you, Harry."

"I know," he said, still feeling unsure. "I didn't lie to you that night, Ginny. Those five years were lonely and rough. I traveled and did odd jobs for money. I don't know what else you want to know."

"Where did you travel to?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "Different places; I never stayed anywhere for long. I didn't want to be tied down. I spent some time in India and Australia. They were my favorite places. I learned a lot there. Especially in India; the people there are unlike anywhere else in the world."

Ginny smiled at him as he continued. "It was nice to be unimportant. I was just the man with the funny glasses who painted houses for a living. I was normal for once. No one expected too much from me, and the fate of the world didn't rest upon my shoulders. I learned a lot about myself."

"Were there women?" Ginny questioned after a moment, and Harry let her hand fall from his.

"A few." He conceded and Ginny was surprised to find that the knowledge didn't bother her. Not one bit. "None were like you, Ginny. I was lonely and needed human comfort, but those women could never hold a candle to you."

She smiled at him reassuringly, and their conversation led back to his travels. Ginny listened patiently as he spoke. There was a niggling feeling at the back of her mind that seemed to demand her attention, and she pointedly ignored it, focusing instead on his tales of India and Australia.

Why doesn't it bother you?

Why do you feel like you're out with a friend and not a boyfriend?

Are you sure that you're not using him?

Ginny stumbled into her flat an hour later. Jasper yowled at her, and she fed him, scratching his head before heading into her bedroom. If she was going to be worth anything to anyone tomorrow, she would have to get some sleep.

Three hours later, Ginny found herself staring at the ceiling above her bed. Jasper was purring loudly from his spot on her stomach, and the clock beside her seemed to be going far too slow. It was just her luck that she didn't have half of the ingredients needed for a good Dreamless Sleep Potion.

She was ready to admit defeat, get up and fix some tea and resolve herself to another sleepless night. Just as she was coming to terms with her decision, her limbs began to feel like jell-o and her eyelids fell shut. She had the sudden feeling of falling, as if from a giant ladder. Her body jerked in the darkness as she fell from an immeasurable height, her body curling like a rag-doll.

The ground felt like a sponge when she hit bottom and it cushioned her as she sank into its porous surface. She rolled to her side, pulling herself up as the floor became more solid under her feet. It was completely dark here, the spectrum only stretching from a deep grey to consuming black.

There seemed to be a beacon of light shining in the distance, and she floated toward it, as if she were a moth drawn to a flame. She blinked and the source of light was suddenly standing directly in front of her, his skin and hair seeming to radiate brightly, expelling the dark.

He opened his eyes, drinking her in with his slate grey orbs.

She placed her hands upon his chest, spreading her fingers against his smooth skin. Then she extended her arms, shoving him away from her and shrouding herself in darkness once more.

Realizing her mistake, she tried to run after the fading beam of light, but she was held steadfastly by two masculine hands. The room spun around her and she felt as if she were helplessly caught in a whirlwind. When the world finally stopped, all that she could see were thick framed glasses and two forest green eyes.

…Then her alarm went off, filling her head with high pitched chirping, the last wisps of her dream flying from her memory as she sat up and stretched tiredly.

Kingsley thumbed through the papers in his hands before handing them over to Draco.

"It wasn't easy to get; the Muggles are always difficult. The Minister himself had to step in, but here it is… I would still like to know how you realized that our lists were incomplete," he said, referring to the new list now in Draco's arms. This list had the names of all of the missing people known by the Muggle world. It was supposedly complete now, and included the names of the missing children beside their other family members.

Ginny could see her partner was considering his words carefully, not wanting to let their boss know that it was a wanted former Death Eater that had clued them in. He didn't want to endanger his friend or lose his job.

The all too familiar smirk spread found its way to his lips as and idea formed in his head. "Actually, sir, It was Auror Weasley's childhood friend, Hermione Granger, that gave us the information," he said, sending a piercing look in Ginny's direction.

'Bastard,' Ginny thought, scowling at Draco before sending Kingsley a beatific smile.

"Really?" Kingsley asked, interested. "How is Miss Granger?"

"Wonderful! She loves being a Spell Researcher and really enjoys the travel. She likes to keep one foot in the Muggle world, and on a visit to her parent's house, she saw the missing persons cases being reported on the news," she said, thinking fast. "She thought that the crimes seemed magical in nature, so she owled me to see if I had heard anything."

"She always was a smart girl."

"Yes, sir." She could feel beads of sweat forming at her hair-line. She hated lying to Kingsley; she respected him. Draco had better appreciate this.

"Dr. Ridge delivered her tapes over to Auror Douglas this morning. His team will be reviewing them as quickly as possible, and I will let you know if they find any footage to confirm your theory that Dolohov is an Animagus," he said, and the two Auror nodded.

"If it does turn out to be true, St. Mungos will pay dearly," he said quietly to himself, and then he met Ginny's eyes. "You're both dismissed. Get back to work and keep me posted."

They stepped out into the hall and as soon as the door had clicked shut behind them Ginny struck. "You and your little friend owe me big time," she huffed under her breath.

He sneered at her. "Funny, I was just thinking that you owed us. If it weren't for Blaise's information, we would still be at a stalemate, and my quick mind saved both of us in there. Don't forget that you have seen a wanted man and not brought him in. You are now an accomplice, Weaslette."

"Oh, you are such a bastard," she quipped.

"Bitch," he drawled in return as they entered their office and he placed the papers gently on his desk.

"Prick," she gasped, slamming the door shut behind her.

"Harpy," he snarled as she stomped over to him.

"Merlin, you are a sad little man," she claimed, staring up at him. Her fingers itched to push back the strands of silver that had fallen into his eyes, shielding them from her gaze. Berating herself for still feeling anything but loathing for the man in front of her, she forced her feet in the direction of her desk. "Creep," she snapped as she took her seat.

"Hellion," he shot back.

Was this how things would be now, between them? Exchanging barbs and trying to bring the other person down a peg. 'Sexual tension,' a voice called to her from the back of her mind, and Ginny let a strangled 'pfft' noise escape her lips.

Taking the noise as another insult, Draco glared at her as he took his own seat.

If Ginny had paid attention, she would have seen that the cruel look in his eyes actually seemed more concerned as he studied the dark circles under her eyes and the frustration creasing her brow. Guilt settled icily in his stomach as he looked at her. 'Malfoy's never apologize for anything,' a voice that sounded eerily like his father's filled his head, and Draco turned away from his partner, a strange feeling of loss and inadequacy hovering over him.

The days seemed to pass quickly. Every day was the same; she would work at Draco's side, curtailing paperwork and waiting for news from Aurors Douglas and Kingsley.

Their work environment was tense, and they seemed to argue non stop. She hated it.

After work, Ginny would go on a date with Harry. He had kept his word and they were taking turns picking the places to go. They were getting to know each other again and it was nice, but somehow when she was with Harry, Ginny missed the hours she spent arguing with Draco. She missed his quick wit and sly, sarcastic sense of humor; it was such an extreme opposite to Harry's often childish and mischievous humor.

Something was lacking. Her relationship with Harry should have felt as though it were building up to something new and exciting, but as he kissed her goodnight against the door to her flat… Ginny couldn't feel it. When he told her that he loved her, Ginny couldn't return his words.

She needed some good advice. So, excusing herself from her dinner plans that night with Harry, Ginny instead found herself walking into a familiar and dimly lit shed, seeking the council of the one man that would never let her down.

She smiled as she entered, the door creaking in protest against its old hinges. She loved the way that it smelled in here, like grass, oil, and metal parts. It was a coppery scent mixed with the smell of the laundry hanging on the line just outside.

He was here, tinkering away, just as she knew that he would be, and as he turned to identify his guest, sliding his goggles to the top of his bald head, she grinned at him.

"Hi, Daddy."

"Gin-Bug!" he said happily, wrapping her up in a warm hug, "What brings you to my little shed, princess?" he asked, clearing off a table and gesturing for her to sit.

She had to hop in order to sit on the high table, and when she was sitting comfortably, her legs were still able to swing over the edge. It made her feel small and reminded her of evenings spent in this room, watching her dad experiment on muggle toys while sipping hot chocolate.

He looked at her expectantly and patted her knee gently when she didn't respond. "It can't be that bad, Gin-Gin." She grinned at him and he chuckled. "What is it this time? Have the twins been teasing you again?"

Her mouth stretched to bursting as she giggled at her father, feeling more comfortable than she had in a while. He looked at her again and her smile began to falter, her walls breaking down just that easily. This is what she had come here for. "Oh, Dad. I need your advice."

He took a seat at his work station, his face shining with understanding that Ginny knew to be genuine. He calmly waited for her to speak, never pressing her like her mum would have.

"It's about Harry…" she said, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt and peering at her father under long eyelashes, afraid of his reaction. "Well, you know that we've been seeing each other for a while now, and he-he's wonderful. He really is. He even told me that he loves me."

"I hear a 'but'," Arthur said lightly, and Ginny let out a heavy sigh.

"—But I'm finding myself attracted to someone else. Someone who isn't even worth my time… And when Harry says that he loves me, I know I should be able to say it back, but I just can't."

"Do you love him?"

"I don't know."

"What about this other young man. Do you love him?"

Ginny was silent for a long time, and they spent a few minutes just listening to the wind as it picked up and assaulted the old shed. "I—I don't know," she admitted finally. "I don't think that I could ever let myself love him."

"Would you like to hear my thoughts?" her father asked gently, and Ginny nodded.

"Yes," she whispered.

"I think that you need to stop being afraid to let people in." She opened her mouth to defend herself and Mr. Weasley just smiled at her. "Ginny, I know that you were hurt when Harry left you. You didn't even date while he was gone; you just focused on your schooling and your work, and while I appreciate your discipline, you kept yourself from experiencing some potentially amazing things. Not everyone is going to hurt you like he did. You have to know that."

Ginny stayed silent as he continued, her legs swinging lightly against the table and her fingers plucking at imaginary lint on her pant leg.

"When Harry came back, you both seemed to rush into a relationship. These doubts of yours were bound to come at some point. You've both grown up, changed. You've learned to live your own lives for the last six years."

"I just wanted it to be like it was…" Ginny mumbled.

"I know, but love is funny. What you wanted when you were fifteen isn't necessarily what you want at almost twenty-three years of age. When we're teenagers, certain things are easier to ignore than they are at your current age. You're thinking about different things. You have to consider where he fits in your life now, if he is the person you want beside you when you go after your dreams. If he can be supportive, and if he desires the same things from life as you do."

"He… he's childish."

Arthur nodded. "Yes, while you were here, struggling with life after the war and tracking down evil wizards, he was—"

"He was running away, pretending that it didn't exist," she finished for him, her voice barely above a whisper.

They sat in comfortable silence again. Chirping insects and hooting owls emerged from their daytime hiding places and began their night-time symphony. The sounds drifting through the walls as the wind continued to howl.

"I don't love him," Ginny conceded at last. "I thought that I could, and maybe someday I can, but it will never be as pure as it once was."

"Nothing ever is," the balding man coincided. "What of the other man? The one you're attracted to?"

"He's not like anyone I've ever met before. He's smart and funny, but he can also be so cruel. He's insensitive and terrible at admitting his feelings. He makes me so angry sometimes that I can't see straight."

"Sounds like he keeps you on your toes." Mr. Weasley laughed.

"H-He does. He makes me feel things. Things that I'm not sure I've ever felt before. We argue all the time and drive each other crazy, but it makes me feel so alive. It's like there's a Muggle electrical current running through us all the time. I should hate him, but…"

"You're drawn to him."

"Yes. Am I crazy?"

"No."

"I feel like it," she said, her eyes scanning the room and falling upon the clock just as her father let out a loud yawn. She giggled at him. "Is it past your bed time?"

"I'm getting old…" he said with a chuckle.

"I should go then," Ginny reckoned, hopping down from the table.

Her father stood from his own seat, coming around to hug his daughter tightly. "You can't be so afraid of being hurt that you let yourself miss out on the good things," he said to her, shaking her slightly, making Ginny smile.

"Thanks, Dad."

"Hey," he said, cupping her under the chin lightly and forcing her to meet his eyes, "what ever you decide, your mother and I will be here for you."

"I know," she said, her arm wrapped around his as they stepped outside.

"When Harry first came into our lives, I welcomed him with open arms," he said slowly, "And if you decide to bring Draco home someday, I will welcome the same way."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Dad—"

"I can tell, Gin-bug. I've seen you two together in the halls at the Ministry."

"Then you understand why I can't—"

"He's a good man, Gin. Just as you and Harry have changed in the last six years, so has he."

"He hasn't, not really. He's still the same infuriating bully," she argued, knowing deep down that she didn't really feel that way. There were times that he had proved her wrong, Times when he was chivalrous and kind. Times when he made her think that she could love him.

She looked at her father again, he seemed amused and behind his eyes was gleam of wisdom. It made her feel uneasy as he if knew something that she wasn't yet privy to.

"We'll be here, no matter what you decide."

As she Flooed home, her mind was consumed with incomplete thoughts, her brain working in overdrive. Not even bothering to try to fall asleep immediately, she went into the kitchen and placed the kettle on the stove top. She sat at the kitchen table, her head held up by one hand, pushing her cheek up comically.

Her father had been right. When Harry had left, it had felt as if her world was over. Then Hermione had come home and Ron's body had come to be buried, but there was still no Harry. The hero of the wizarding world was a coward.

She groaned to herself. She knew that wasn't true, and she was glad that he had traveled, he had finally been able to be a normal human being with no reporters knocking down his door in the craze that followed the end of Voldemort. She couldn't begrudge him his desire for freedom, for normality.

But when he never came back, it felt as if she had been crushed. He was gone, but he had still managed to hurt her with his absence. There were times that she wanted nothing more than to talk to him, to just tell him about her day, to share small talk about simple stuff.

She supposed that 'waiting for him', in a way, had kept her safe. She was afraid of starting a new relationship and being hurt again. Guys didn't like to pursue women with baggage, and Harry had been hers. It was an intimidating excuse for her relationship anxiety.

Then there was Draco, and he broke past her walls, forcing her to feel again. His baggage was just as weighty as hers as they took turns pursuing and being pursued. It all boiled down to trust issues.

Then Harry came back, and she jumped into his arms, anything to keep her from 'feeling' for Draco. Anything to keep her heart safe.

You can't be so afraid of being hurt that you let yourself miss out on the good things.

Harry came into her life like a whirlwind, stirring up old feelings and even bigger amounts of confusion. He told her that he loved her and in her own way, she loved him back. Just not in the way he wanted her to.

Are you sure that you're not using him?

I'm not vindictive; I would never do anything to hurt him.

I can love him.

But you don't.

He loves me. No one has ever loved me before.

You can't force yourself to love him back…

The tea pot whistled loudly and she rushed to take it off of the heat, thankful for the distraction.

I can try.

Draco tried to set the flowers aflame with his eyes. They were bright red roses, long stemmed, and spelled to be continuously in bloom. He hated them.

He remembered the day that they had first arrived. It was a week ago, and you would have thought that Potter had cured a blind man with the way she had carried on, squealing and hopping around with that Clara girl. It was disgusting.

They were just flowers and some card that Potty had probably needed help picking out. Someone probably had to hold his quill for him as he signed it. It wasn't all that impressive. It's not like the git had never bought her flowers before.

Ginny and Scarhead were apparently going strong and had been seeing each other every night for the last week as opposed to their original one-night a week dates.

It was annoying, and those flowers weren't helping any.

Jealous that they weren't from you? That she wasn't fawning over something that you had done?

He scowled at his thoughts, his eyes focused on the flowers. "They stink," he growled.

"They do not," she responded, and Draco's frown deepened.

She had been practically ignoring him all week. She refused to argue with him and barely acknowledged his presence as they worked side by side. Something had shifted, and it was terrifying. Was it possible that things with Potter had progressed this quickly?

Why did the thought make him feel so empty?

"I'm going to cut out early," his partner said, stretching and standing from her chair.

Draco turned his glare to her. "Another date?"

"Yup," she said plainly as she headed towards the door. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, have fun," he grunted to himself, folding his arms over his chest and cursing mentally.

He unfolded his arms and laid a hand on his desk, drumming his fingers against the wood. It was fine, really. They were only going on a few dates. No need to be jealous, especially not of someone like Potter.

Unbidden, an image of the dark haired man kissing her, touching her, exploring her freckles, came to his mind and he gripped the corners of his desk painfully.

You're losing her.

You never had her to begin with.

The second voice sounded surprisingly like hers, and he groaned. "I won't lose her," he said aloud. "I just need to think."

He hated feeling desperate.

Draco wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there; his angry stare focused on those damned red roses when someone entered his office.

"Hey, Draco, did you review that paper work for me?" a man asked, and Draco slid his gaze up to meet the round face of his former partner, Neville Longbottom.

"It's the paper on the top of Ginny's desk. We're done with it."

"Great," Neville said, picking up the sheet, his eyes falling on the vase of flowers resting on her desk. "Nice flowers," he said fingering the petals, missing the growl that escaped the other man's lips. "Never really saw Ginny as a rose type of girl, though."

"She's not," Draco said quietly. "She likes moon daisies."

Neville smiled slightly, "Ah, the oxeye daisy. Leucanthemum vulgare. It suits her much better. Funny, it's the flower that is most associated with the game 'He loves me, He loves me not'."

Draco looked at Neville strangely, and the round faced man shrugged. "I've always been good with Herbology. Have my own garden at home."

"I remember," Draco said, his voice sounding annoyed, but Neville never seemed to notice as he continued to look at the roses.

"Continuous Bloom Charm, nice. Did Harry get them for her?"

"Yes."

"Hm, you would think he would know her favorite flower by now. They've known each other for a long time," he said, looking deep in thought. "Oh well; he'll know soon enough, I'm sure that she'll want Oxeyes for her bouquet. Probably on the invitations, too," he mused.

"Invitations?" Draco asked, sitting up straighter in his seat.

"Of course. It's only a matter of time before he asks after all."

"Asks what?"

"Before he asks her to marry him," Neville said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Draco's stomach fell to the floor and-- if the high pitched buzzing ringing in his ears was any indication-- his brain short circuited.

Marriage. Ginny and Potter getting married. Ginny all in white, walking down the aisle…

"It's why he came back to England. He realized that he was ready to settle down, start a family, and that he wanted all of that with Ginny. They're perfect for each other really." Neville prattled on.

I'm really going to lose her.

She'll marry Potter, and where will that leave me? I'll be all alone; she'll probably quit working to become a full time mother or some such non-sense, and I'll only ever see her face in the papers.

He imagined not being able to see her face every day. Not being able to watch her drink her morning tea as she sat at her desk, not being able to hear her voice. To never again see her smile at him with that expression that he lived for, the look that made him want to smile as well. Never being able to kiss her, to taste her, or to tell her… everything he needed to say; if he could ever get the courage to.

She would be gone, happy with another man, making love to him and raising his children.

Draco felt sick as he imagined small dark haired brats running around Ginny's ankles. They would be annoying and self righteous, just like Potter, but they would be perfect because they were hers. They'd probably have her eyes, those eyes that had the power to pull you in, helpless against their will.

He could see the children around her and Potter by her side, and then the picture changed, the hair color of her children lightening to a light strawberry blonde and the man beside her disappeared to be replaced with Draco's own face. He wasn't even shocked to realize that this vision was something he wanted. It seemed natural. It seemed Right.

I'm nothing without her.

The knowledge hit him like a Quaffle to the ribs. It was painful in its certainty and the force of it stole his breath away. He could see himself growing old and frail, lonely without her by his side. In his life, he had made too many enemies and too few friends and he would die alone with no one to mourn him.

She can't marry him.

"Why not?" Neville asked curiously, and Draco realized that he had spoken aloud.

"Because I'd miss her," he said, not caring that he had just admitted more to his former partner than he had ever really admitted to anyone about his feelings as he gathered his things. "I have to go."

"Where?" Neville prodded as the blond man rushed to the door.

"The Three Broomsticks," he said, and with a flourish he was gone, hurrying down the hall.

Neville smiled secretly as Clara stepped into the room, emerging from her hiding place just outside of the room. "Well?" she asked.

"Hook, line, and sinker," he crowed, his palm smacking against hers in a high-five.

"Yes!" she shouted. Anything else she may have had to say was effectively cut off as Neville kissed her soundly on the lips.

A/N: Egads! This was hard to write! It's much more fun to write them arguing, lol!

Question! I like to listen to music while I write, does anyone have any songs that inspire them? I'm looking for more good writing music :c)

As always I adore my reviewers! You guys make this story worth writing!