Draco felt cold. Sharp, numbing, cold. The feeling had been distant at first, not taking up that much of his depressing thoughts, but its strength and intensity had grown over time. By now, he was shivering, his teeth slamming against each other in short and rhythmic pulses. He wished the thought of wearing something more warming had come to him earlier, but it was too late. All he had was a light, charcoal black coat, and it felt far from enough. He was cold, he was alone and his body screamed that there were simple solutions, alcohol could take care of this feeling, end it, deafen it all. But he had none, he was too weak to get some, and the exhaustion had begun to tear at his relationship with it. All Draco could do was wait – for time to pass, for morning to come, a morning that made his wife leave for work, leave their apartment to Draco.
He knew that they couldn't go on like that forever, but it was a minor issue. Their relationship was so non-existent a relationship between two married people could be. An eventual divorce would, however, be the first one ever in Astoria's family, and Draco had tried bringing it up, but it never seemed to end particularly well. She refused – she would tear up, cry, scream at him. Say that he'd never survive without her. Blame him for all their problems.
Maybe she was right. Maybe he was the cause for all of them.
Draco knew that a divorce wouldn't matter to him. His boss at the ministry was very, very close to fire him due to the fact that he rarely showed up. The friends he once had were now distant to him, some of them strangers, even. His life circled around survival, different ways of it, and methods to deal with the pain. If he had the energy too care that day – some days he didn't. Some days, even survival seemed meaningless to Draco.
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Ginny felt the wind brush against her cheek every half-running step of her way, but the cold didn't bother her. Actually, she didn't feel cold at all, for she felt alive and free and she was clueless about her destination. She moved away from an unemptied garbage can someone had knocked over, slowed down when her heels made too loud noises, careful not to wake anyone up. After all, The Daily Prophet had their loyal spies everywhere, and she was a girl of many theories and tales. Harry Potter's wife running down Diagon Alley in the middle of the night – That would be a great headline, and she knew it. She could take it. The only thing that mattered right now was getting to the place she didn't know, the place she just had a mysterious feeling about. She knew she had to get there. She had no idea about why, and a part of her brain thought it absolutely ridiculous, but there was also excitement in her thoughts, and that lovely, lovely whisper about unpredictable.
The corners of Diagon Alley she now approached were unknown to her. Born into a wizard family, she had come her often ever since she was a baby, and she knew that diverging from the main street very likely ended up with an unwanted visit to Knockturn Alley, trying not to talk to the people offering you candy. It could also lead to some dark, mysterious corners of London, or just to the plain apartment areas. But unless you were a hundred percent sure about your destination, you stuck to the main road. That was the definite and absolute rule. You didn't break it, and if you still felt the urges, you thought about the tell-off your mother would give you – a method the Weasley kids used often. The Diagon Alley rule was not meant for breaking.
Except for now. She had caught a glimpse of something moving a couple of metres ahead, and was now heading for it without even asking herself why. She knew she needed to.
Draco Malfoy was all of a sudden hearing sounds. It made him feel queasy, wondering if he was really going insane – hearing things, seeing things. They sounded like footsteps, which could have a natural explanation. It could be a shop-owner rushing past him in his way to the shop, but it was Sunday tomorrow and none of the shops opened early. He didn't think it was muggle cops, the men and women with serious faces, scrutinizing looks and nice costumes, the men and women that got so angry with him the time he had been forced to admit he did not own a Muggle ID. They helped him with the process of getting one, and Draco now carried it in his wallet at all times. It was indeed a very smart way to get into bars without a Confundus charm. So he was thankful to the muggle cops, he really was, but them finding him in a deserted alley felt… bad. He hoped this wasn't corners they controlled, because he was not sure if they belonged to Diagon Alley or to London.
It could be a manic shop owner, it could be a cop, or it could be another... person like him. What sort of lunatic took a walk in deserted corners, in the middle of the night?
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Click, click, and click. Her heels were making sounds as they repeatedly hit the rectangular stones of Diagon Alley, and she did not want to slow down now. She desperately hoped she wasn't waking anyone up. She would've worn her usual basket shoes, but high heels fitted much better with the black, knee-long dress she wore for tonight. It was one of her favourite dresses, showing off the little curves she had in a satisfying way. Even if Ginny was your typical hoodie and jeans girl, she definitely enjoyed dressing up once in a while.
But it would've been better if she had skipped it tonight. The dress was indeed very lovely, but in combination with the heels and the bare legs, she could easily be mistaken for a young woman who had partied a bit too hard and now was too drunk to find her way home.
Ginny knew her way home. Her brain kept telling her it was late, that this was stupid, that she didn't know the streets, that she should go home before Harry started worrying. But there was also another voice, one who told her that Harry slept too hard to notice anything. She could stay away till morning if she felt like it. Did she feel like it? Oh, if she did.
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Draco Malfoy heard the sounds growing louder and louder, their source coming closer and closer. He was now so cold that his body had stopped caring, making him numb instead. Turning off his senses to save energy. He liked it. Numb felt better, numb was empty and non-caring and zero. Relief. He realised that he had to move if he were to face another human being, that his still body could give an expression about him being unconscious, eventually bringing unnecessary attention. Every bone and every inch of skin hurt at the bare thought of moving, but he slowly made his way up to a half-standing position. A small improvement, but an improvement nonetheless. He was just trying to fix the emotionless expression on his face when the human whose steps he'd listened to for a while strode into the narrow alley.
For a few seconds, Draco considered the possibility that he was hallucinating due to lack of sleep and nutrition.
He recognized this woman – for it was a woman – who'd walked into his alley. She was wearing a black, tight party dress with a few sequins along her neck, and not the striped sweater he'd seen her in before, and her slim legs were bare instead of hidden in baggy jeans. But he could easily identify the auburn hair, the captivating face and the hazel eyes that gave him an examining look. He had seen this woman before, and even if the alcohol level in his blood had made him forget bits of it, he knew he had talked to her. He knew that he had made a fool out of himself. If he were her, he would have turned around immediately to run the other way. Every sane person would've turned around. This woman stood still.
Ginny Weasley couldn't believe her eyes. Perhaps she didn't want to. She had met this man once, and that had been unpleasant enough. She had met him many times before, too, of course, but Draco Malfoy didn't seem to be the young and arrogant teenager he'd once been. She understood that much.
He had lost weight since she saw him, but not in a good way. Now he just looked malnourished, even skinnier than he had been in his Hogwarts time. Even aside from that, his appearance didn't really shine. The hunched position, the coat way too cold for this night, the thin arms that hugged his own torso, desperate for some warmth.
He had seen her, too – he was inspecting her with the expression of a scientist, completely silent. They stood like that for a short moment, observing each other. Ginny knew she was supposed to walk away, walk home, to the apartment where Harry waited. But she didn't move, and Draco didn't, either. They remained in their positions, a distance of ten yards and a whole lot of silence between them.
"I won't hurt you", She said after a while. "But do you have a home or do you always spend your nights like this?"
"Not important." He sighed. "You shouldn't talk to me."
"Because you were drunk as hell last time? Don't act like you don't remember. I can see you do."
"Yes. Because I was drunk, because I must've said awful things. I couldn't remember your name, for example."
"Can you now?"
"No. We went to Hogwarts at the same time, but we weren't really friends and I don't think you were a Slytherin, so I probably hated you."
"Yeah. Gryffindor." She had no idea why she even told him this.
"I definitely hated you. But I'm over that now. People don't care about me anyway." He gave her a small grimace.
"That's not the Draco I remember from my school time. People used to care about you a lot."
"That Draco is gone, whether I want him to be or not. Excuse me, but who exactly are you?"
"You sure you don't remember me? We've never been friends, really, not even close. I have plenty of reasons to hate you, your family, your dad… Let's just say I've dreamt about vengeance a few times." She shifted position a little, trying not to turn into an ice cube. Not moving sure made the cold more intense.
"If you've come to seek vengeance, go get it. Nothing will stop you."
"I don't think I need to. Looks like you're doing a pretty good job yourself." She took a few steps forward, dramatically shortening the distance between them. "Why are you hiding here? Why aren't you home? You've never seemed like the type who risked ending up on the streets."
"I have a home." She could see he was getting tired of discussion by now. "But you're not home either. " The expression on his face almost looked like a smile.
"I took a walk with my husband after a night at the Leaky Cauldron. He wanted to go home. I wanted to walk a bit further."
"Further indeed. Still doesn't explain why you're talking to me. You said it yourself, we're far from friends. I don't get it." Draco looked deeply frustrated. She watched him in silence, wondering how long he'd went without conversations this long. She couldn't help feeling sorry for him, but like he'd said, why, oh why, couldn't she just ignore him? Merlin knew that's what she would've done, if he hadn't looked so miserable.
"I don't completely get it, either." Ginny shook her head. "But you don't look like the Draco I remember. You look like someone who needs help, and right now, a roof to stay under tonight." She held out her hand.
"Ginny Weasley, Potter to be, but it's unimportant for now. I have a feeling in my guts that I need to help you in some way, and I know it's weird, but please, trust me when I say I can make sure you come indoors before this weather", she pointed to the enormous rain clouds that were shaping above them, "gets even worse. So consider it."
Another minute of silence, Draco looking at her with half confused and half sad eyes. Then he held out his hand too, and Ginny tried her best not to think about the fact that she was shaking hands with Draco Malfoy.
If someone had told her 12 year old self that, that little girl would've panicked.