Chapter Twenty-Eight

Hopeless

"Don't talk to me, Harry. Just don't even talk to me."

"Sunshine, please."

"And don't call me that. This is not exactly the time for endearing nicknames, is it?"

Harry was at an utter loss. Of all the opposition he had expected after the decision he'd made, this was not one he'd prepared for.

"Ginny, just talk to me. I don't understand. I need to understand."

"What is there to understand, Harry? He's killed people. Several of them."

"I know that. And he's sorry."

Ginny laughed, a cold and bitter laugh. "I'm sure he is. Let's dig up Thomas Tyrell so he can apologize."

Harry started to feel cold as well. "I, for one, do not regret the death of Thomas Tyrell."

"Right, since you killed Voldemort, it was just Draco's turn, wasn't it? You and Draco, the dynamic duo of Dark Arts defense."

"That's very nice alliteration, Ginny, but the sarcasm's not helping. What's bothering you so much? That Draco helped me?"

"Yes! It's bothering me, okay?!"

"But why?"

"I could have done something, too. You left Hermione because she was pregnant, but you didn't think to take me? You wouldn't bring me along when you went to get Matt from Tyrell last week?" She suddenly started sobbing in helpless frustration. "You either don't trust me or don't think I'm good enough, Harry. You never have. Which is it? Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do." He felt sick as he realized that Ginny had never listened to him, not once, when he told her why he didn't take her with him. Merlin, how hard was it to understand that it would kill him to see her come to harm?

"Then you think I'm weak."

"No, Ginny." He hated the sight of his wife crying. He hated it. "Don't you ever listen?" he exploded. And then he couldn't hold back anymore. "How many times, Ginny, how many sodding times do I have to say this? I love you. And I want to keep you safe. I couldn't take you the first time, with Ron and Hermione, because I couldn't tell you what we were doing. Okay? That information is dangerous, don't you understand that yet? Merlin's hairy balls, Matt almost got killed for that information! And dammit, Ginny, last week I needed to know that Sirius and Charlotte were safe with you. Of course I trust you, I left my children with you when I thought they might be kidnapped by a madman."

"I thought—" she choked on a sob, swallowed, and continued. "I thought you wanted me there in case I had to die to protect them."

"What?"

"Like Lily. Like your mother. I thought . . ."

"Shit, Ginny, holy shit, you actually thought that? You thought I wanted you to die? You're my wife, and I love you, and I never, never want anything to happen to you! Please, just listen to what I'm saying! I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy. That's the bottom line."

"But I'm not happy," she wept. "I'm not happy at all."

Harry's anger was still so hot that he barely felt the twist in his gut at those words.

"Harry, I don't want Draco Malfoy to teach Matt. I don't want him at Hogwarts."

"He's already been there for year," Harry said, bewildered. "How is it any different?"

"It might not be to you, but it is to a lot of other people, and that includes me. I don't want that murderer at Matt's school!"

"You can't even give him a chance? You really can't?"

"He killed Neville."

"I know that." Harry sat down on the bed like a deflating balloon, folding in on himself and going rather limp. "I've already talked about this so many times, with so many people, including Draco. He had no choice. Neville would have killed him."

"Then he should have died. He knew what he was and he should have let Neville kill him."

"You know, Ginny, in the moment you're being savagely beaten with a pipe, it becomes a little tough to make serious and difficult moral decisions. I don't blame him for that."

"He killed Matt's parents. And now Matt's forgiven him, just because he worships the ground you walk on, like the rest of the country. Matt would do anything you say, and you've got him forgiving murder, when he's still too young to even grasp how much he's got to forgive."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "You're one to talk about 'too young' to me. We were both battling Death Eaters before we could Apparate."

She huffed. "Fine. You know what? Forget it. Your mind's already made up, and there is absolutely no reason to talk to you about how I feel about it. Nothing I say is going to make a difference, is it?"

"Ginny, I value your opinion on everything that concerns our kids. And I understand your position. But did you really think, after that letter I wrote, and that apology that Draco wrote, that I'd change my mind about this?"

Ginny crossed her arms and glared at him. "It would have been nice to have a chance to talk to you before you put that out, actually."

He sighed. "You know what? I'm sorry I didn't consult with you on the way I felt about it."

"That's your problem, you bastard," Ginny snarled. "You never 'consult' with me on the way you're feeling. You don't share with me, Harry. You're completely self-contained, and I'm just here to watch the kids."

"You're here because we love each other," Harry said, feeling panicky. He hadn't been particularly fond of any part of this conversation, but this bit worried him. He didn't like where this was headed. "You're beautiful, and smart, and talented, and you can deal with all my depressing moods, and you're just brave and good, Ginny. We love each other."

Ginny had stopped crying, stopped being angry, stopped showing any emotion. Her face was as barren as the sheer face of a mountain, and as forebidding. "Do we?"

"Yes!"

"Are you sure we didn't play at being in love because we were kids, and grow out of it?"

Harry tried to answer, but his jaw was on the floor. "Ginny . . ."

"I'm not in love with you, Harry. This thing with Malfoy is just the latest in a whole series of things you refuse to share with me. I can't be in love with you, because I hardly know you. Apparently Malfoy knows you better than I do. Apparently I'm the third wheel, getting in the way here."

"No, Ginny." His mouth was dry, and his head spun sickeningly. "No, please don't say what I think you're about to say."

"I want a divorce, Harry."

He hunched over like she'd struck him a physical blow. He'd never thought to hear that directed at him, not ever, and it hurt just like being punched in the stomach. No, this had to be a dream, no, wake up, Harry, wake up now, it's just a dream, she didn't say that, she couldn't have said that.

"Did you hear me?"

"Why?" he managed to gasp.

"Because we've been trying to do better, and we're not doing it. It's not getting better. I'm miserable, Harry. I don't know you. I need . . . I need someone who's not just listening, I need someone who's talking. I need someone else."

"Please. Please don't do this. Think about the kids, please."

"I'll make sure you have partial custody."

And that felt like being kicked in the stomach. Hard.

"Oh, hell no," he heard himself say as he tried to recover from the blow. "There is absolutely no way, none at all, that you will take my kids away from me."

"Those are my kids, too, Harry."

"Ginny, those kids are everything to me. You know that. No. I'm telling you no. I will lock you up in the attic and never let you out before I'll let you take away my kids. If you're leaving, fine," he said on a sob, "but don't you dare take the kids."

She was shaking from head to toe. Her face was bloodless. "I am leaving. With or without my children."

She stalked out of the room and Harry lay down on the bed and wept. His wife was leaving him. Ginny, his Sunshine, was leaving him just because he wanted to keep her safe. Just because he wanted to give Draco another chance. It made no sense, none at all, and he kept telling himself he'd wake up from this nightmare any minute. Then he ran into the next room and watched Charlotte sleep. His baby girl. He would not lose his baby girl, not ever.

"Aw, Ginny," he moaned, and fell to his knees on the floor of Charlotte's room. "Don't. Don't leave me."

He pleaded with her. He shouted at her. He cried on her. He did everything he could think of. But every time, her response was the same.

"Do you still want Malfoy at Hogwarts?"

And he still did. He could have lied, but to think that it would save his marriage would be foolish. And he wasn't much of a liar, in any case. It was the right thing. The Right Thing.

"Oh, Ginny," he whispered as he watched Sirius sob himself to sleep the night she moved back into the Burrow with her parents. "How did this happen?"