37 – Free to Choose, Not Free From Consequences
Draco was observing the landscape.
He would never admit that he was scared of being in the same room as dozens of hostile Weasleys. In the same room as Ginevra. So he preferred to stay outside only with the sea, sand and rocks for company.
He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the cheesy thought.
A few more days in this place and his hair would eventually turn into an annoying tone of red and freckles would appear on his perfect face. He unconsciously pulled a handful of platinum strands from his forehead and look at it just to make sure everything was still in place.
When he realised what he was doing, he tossed his hair back in an irritated gesture.
Great, he thought mocking himself, most of the time I'm either thinking that by some disgrace of the universe I might've become a Weasley or I can't stop thinking about what Blaise and my mother had said. Fantastic.
They had both insisted that he should talk to Ginevra. Tell her that—
Draco didn't know what to say. Sure, there were feelings—and he added a dose of contempt to the thought— but there was also the fact that he— and Ginevra, for that matter—didn't know what to do with it. Not in this shitty scenario they were living in.
And until he couldn't be sure how to act, he decided he would give both of them some time to adjust to their new situation. If he stayed away for now, she could get her thoughts in order, decide what she really wanted.
How selfless, Draco, he scoffed, shifting uncomfortably at the thought. Ginevra has the power to awaken the most useless feelings in me.
The movement made his attention return to where he was. Sitting on a rock on the sand, with his arms resting on his bent legs, Draco had the impression that it would destroy his clothes – and Merlin knew he couldn't afford to wear the splendour of his wardrobe at that moment – but it was a sacrifice worth making; the place was truly beautiful.
He focussed on the horizon, where the blue of the sky merged with the blue of the sea. He wanted to tattoo the colour on his retina, to get rid of that extravagant red that insisted on haunting him.
Then, as if the universe were mocking him, out of the corner of his eye he saw a long hair - red - moving with the wind, while its owner - with red cheeks - approached with feline steps.
I'll get crazy.
And the vixen was beautiful, wearing a flowing cream dress that the wind lifted to show off the white legs that he missed so much. She blended into the surroundings in a strange, natural synergy, as if she were at ease there, in that place, for the first time.
"Hello there." Ginevra greeted him smiling and Draco wanted to hex her because of the way her smile warmed him. "Blaise just left; Ron's taking him to London— that is, if they don't jinx each other before they get there." Brazenly, she sat down next to him. "Did you say him goodbye?"
"I did, yes." That was all Draco said, without taking his eyes off the horizon and avoiding remembering Blaise's words.
At first, Ginny said nothing and respected his monosyllabic nature.
And, for the first time in his life, Draco didn't mind sharing his silence, the precious moments he could give to himself without having to pay attention to his words. And he shared it with her in a comfortable silence that made him incredibly... calm. Strangely, she made him feel like he would never be alone again.
The sensation was so unusual that he shifted uneasily.
Ginevra noticed his movement and moved a little closer as if it weren't enough to invade his thoughts, now she also needed to invade his personal space.
Bloody woman!
"How did you know that Harry was alive?"
Right, Draco thought, she managed to stay quiet for long five minutes. I suppose I cannot ask for much more than that.
"I didn't." He replied without hesitation.
"You're a liar, Draco Malfoy." Ginny replied without revealing anything in her voice, following his gaze and scanning the horizon.
"I'll take that as a compliment." Draco grunted in response.
"Try again." Ginny did not divert her attention from her previous question and Draco snorted audibly.
"I know he's been to your shop." He was deliberately evasive. He would never admit that he had gone to pick her up, that he had missed her. "I heard part of your conversation."
No more sacrifices.
"You were spying on me?!" Ginny raised her voice and turned her head sharply towards him. As Draco prepared to make his offended defence, she interrupted him with a deep breath. "You know what? Forget it, it doesn't matter anymore." She sighed wearily. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Why didn't you tell me?" Draco echoed the question, raising an eyebrow at the horizon.
"I was going to tell you. If you had given me the chance." Ginny stated vehemently and he could hear the note of reprimand in her voice. "If the situation had given me a chance." She added and this time there was sadness in her voice.
Draco just shrugged. "Do you have something to say to me, Ginevra? Or did you just come out here to compete in the 'who should have told the truth first' contest?"
"Yes, I do." Ginny replied without preamble, ignoring his venomous comment. "I don't think I've ever thanked you for helping me so many times." Draco nodded without looking at her and Ginny continued bravely, her voice softer this time. "For saving my brothers. More than once."
"It was nothing." Draco's response was automatic and distant, the result of the cold politeness that had been instilled in him during his years of education
"For you, maybe." Ginny whispered gently. "For me, it was everything."
Unaccustomed to gratitude, Draco simply shook his head, afraid that words would betray him.
"And there's more." Ginny continued softly when she realised Draco would remain silent. "Do you forgive me?"
"For what, this time?" He raised an eyebrow out of habit, not particularly moved by any apologies she might say. Apologising wouldn't get them out of that situation, nor would it restore their peace.
"For the whole blackmail story, for forcing you into marriage, for everything I forced you to do…" Ginny said and lowered her eyes, slightly embarrassed.
"I thought you'd already apologised for that, when we got married." He answered without thinking – yet another negative habit she had brought out in him – and turned to her in time to see the blush spreading across her freckled face.
Draco studied her calculatingly.
Are you remembering the time you first asked for forgiveness, Ginevra?, he thought somewhat cynically, but preferred to keep the question to himself. Remembering how you ended up in my arms?
Draco watched her through narrowed eyes, searching for a clue to confirm whether her reaction was due to shyness at the memory of that night or regret for having slept with him when Potter was still alive.
He came to no conclusion and that made him even more annoyed.
"One can never be too sorry, I guess." Ginny shrugged, still slightly blushing. She sighed to gather courage before continuing. "Why are you acting this way, Draco? I know things aren't going as well as you'd like, but maybe—"
Because I'm afraid you'll leave me, was the first thought that crossed Draco's mind, but he made sure to hide it carefully under the pile of 'unwanted thoughts'.
"In which way?" He interrupted her, looking back at the horizon. "There's nothing exceptional about my behaviour, Ginevra. I'm acting the way I always have."
"That's not what I meant." Ginny shook her hand in exasperation. "You're so distant…"
He smiled without humor. "Why did you think it would be any different now?"
Ginny straightened up and Draco saw her ears turning red. She was getting angry.
Anger I can handle. The thought gave him the incentive to continue his reasoning.
"You're with your family now and no longer need to be around me. In fact, it's even better if you keep your distance; they're not overly fond of my presence here anyways."
"They set you free, didn't they?" Overcome by her temper, Ginny crossed her arms over her chest in a clear 'what are you complaining about?' attitude.
"Free...?" Draco scoffed with a disgusted grimace. "I don't have to walk chained to your brother anymore, you mean? Apart from that, I shall always continue to be the one who only cares about himself, who is here against his will, who only got into this situation coerced by an Unbreakable Vow."
"Is all of that true?" Ginny asked calmer – and a little more hopeful – looking at him in that way he hated. "I mean, in the beginning it sure was, but now... Would you hand us over to You-Know-Who if you weren't going to sacrifice yourself as a consequence?"
Draco stared at her for a moment, thinking about what he should—wanted—to say.
"There isn't a good enough answer to that, Ginevra. If I say no, you'll end up thinking it's a lie. If I say yes, you'll take it as a threat and get angry. In the end, we'll end up fighting no matter what my answer is."
That wasn't what Ginny wanted to hear, and he watched as she began to bite her lip, a gesture she always did when something was bothering her. Draco braced himself for the explosion that was coming, because something bad was sure to come and-
"You're jealous of Harry." Ginny took the courage to verbalise the hypothesis Blaise had placed in her mind and Draco startled, such was the surprise her words had caused him.
After a second, he forced himself to release the breath he had not even realised he had been holding. "Don't flatter yourself, Weasley. It's unbecoming."
"Don't dodge the discussion, Malfoy." Ginny snapped back in the same bored tone he had used and Draco was surprised at how easily she mimicked people's antics. "You are, aren't you?"
"What do you think? Since you seem to have the answers for all questions and problems." Draco asked, strategically avoiding the need for a direct answer.
"I think that you—and maybe I, too— don't know for sure what's going on between us. I think you're being childish for avoiding this conversation, for not wanting to understand your own feelings. And I think that once we've resolved all those issues, Harry won't be a problem anymore."
Draco was determined to not respond to that nonsense, but the words came out before he could stop them. "It's not just Potter, Ginevra. He's just the ugly, irritating tip of the iceberg. You say I run away and I don't want to understand what I feel, when in fact the bigger problem is what to do with what I feel."
Ginny smiled, her satisfaction evident at hearing something like an admission coming out of his mouth. "People can just do what their feelings tell them to."
"When reason says the exact opposite?" Draco asked cynically, piercing her with his icy gaze.
Ginny ignored his sneer. "What does reason know about our emotions?"
Draco sighed in boredom at the cliché – so ordinary, so vulgar, so... Weasley. He swallowed hard at the thought and tried to explain it in a way she would understand.
"It knows what I am and what you are. It knows that there will always be this shadow lurking between us. A shadow filled with hatred that has been nurtured for years, since we were born. Perhaps even before that."
"You didn't seem to mind that when we were living at Malfoy Manor." Ginny crossed her arms once more, determined to not give in.
"It was just you and me back at the Manor, we could pretend that none of this mattered, that our sides didn't matter. But now, here..." Draco made a gesture that encompassed the disproportionate house. "It's very different, having your family - and worse - your ideologies living with us."
"And having your ideologies around was ok though?" It was Ginny's time for being merciless. "Even though you're being chased by You-Know-Who, even though you're an outcast, even though all your 'friends' have turned their backs on you." She made air quotes to indicate what she thought of those in Draco's circle. "Are you still going to insist on these ideological differences between us?"
"If you think for just a second they're not important in our relationship, or that they don't play a crucial role in determining who we are—who we shall always be, in fact—then you're not just a naive idealist like I thought." Draco's drawl carried an undeniable dose of condescending contempt that would have made Ginny cringe if she hadn't been so angry. "You're simply an utter fool."
"You're still blindly loyal to You-Know-Who," Ginny muttered, not wanting to believe what logic was telling her. Anger had given way to disappointment.
There was such contempt in her voice that Draco felt as if he had been slapped. He was silent for a moment, but when he spoke, his voice was laced with a layer of ice that would have frozen a dragon.
"Except for the time when I was sixteen and an innocent halfwit, I have never been blindly loyal to the Dark Lord, Ginevra. Don't underestimate me."
This time, Ginny was not immune to the coldness and knew instantly that she had crossed a dangerous line. Draco had suffered under Voldemort's rule, just as she and her family had.
The difference, of course, was in the way they had all chosen to survive, the weapons they could use to keep going. And Ginny had already learned that this choice did not disqualify either side.
"Draco, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have-"
"It doesn't mean that I'm like your family and friends." He coldly interrupted her apologetic speech. "I don't fight for their causes, I don't even care about them."
And it was true. He did not believe in miscegenation, in plurality, in the contempt for money, in the vulgarity with Ginevra and her troupe seemed to treat the world.
"You're giving up before even trying." Ginny said with conviction, choosing to ignore his prejudices. "We've got a chance, Draco, I know it. I feel it. You just have to open yourself up to what you feel, to… us."
"Right, we'll do it the way you want. Like always." Draco sighed, focusing back on her, and Ginny allowed herself to smile weakly. However, the joy was all too brief, and when Ginny realised what he was getting at, she felt her stomach sink with anticipation and frustration. "But it will only have a minimal chance of working out if there's none of this fucking war involved or any influences, be it from your family, or the Dark Lord, or anything."
Unconsciously, Ginny wrung her hands in her lap. One side of her subconscious was suddenly happy at his attempt and desperately wanted to accept any condition. Another side, however, viewed her own reaction with contempt, dismissing her happiness as selfishness.
How could she possibly consider abandoning her family at a time like that? What right did she have to deprive James of his father's company when she had already done so for so many years?
Draco searched her face once more, waiting for an answer—a positive answer, if he was honest enough to admit it. He didn't even realise he was holding his breath until he forced himself to exhale the contents of his lungs for the sake of appearing indifferent.
When Ginny did not answer anything, Draco sighed in resignation.
The reluctance to choose was the choice itself.
"I believe you should go back inside," Draco said after a few moments of silence, looking away from her and pointing towards the house. "To your family."
Ginny ran a nervous hand through her hair.
"Draco, please, it doesn't need to be like this. It mustn't be like this!" She moved even closer, gently turning his face towards hers with her hands and resting her forehead against his. Their noses touched and their breaths mingled in the air. "Nothing has to change."
Draco wanted to push her away. He really did. He didn't want to look into her chocolate eyes, see that they were shining with a hope that he wasn't sure where it came from. He didn't want to feel her breath on his cheek… He almost closed his eyes, surrendered.
When she brushed her lips over his in a mute and almost irrefutable invitation, it took all the effort in the world not to lay her in the sand and forget that the world existed inside her.
Draco growled, a primitive sound that was a mixture of need and frustration in equal measure.
His first rational thought was to tell her to go to hell, to tell her that she should stick to her decisions, but against all the warnings of his common sense, all he did was run his hand lightly down her arm in a soft caress.
He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss that his body needed so much. It was a vicious kiss that spoke of need and anger, that expressed all the distress, frustration and despair that he had been feeling in the last few days since he had discovered that Potter was alive, since his life had been turned upside down.
There was something about the way their lips brushed against each other, the way their tongues danced around each other, the way he could hear and feel her breath at the same time. Something about the way she fit perfectly in his arms and the way they were so close he could hear her heart beating beneath the soft fabric of her dress. There was something about the fact that he knew it was her, and only her, that he wanted. Something that scared and comforted him.
When they broke apart, Draco swallowed hard and Ginny smiled shyly, their foreheads still pressed together.
"Ginevra..." He began, resisting the urge to kiss her again and insisting on his point more directly this time. "Let's run away."
The statement was made in a questioning tone and Draco hated himself momentarily for it.
The idea was to convince, not to ask permission!, he thought irritably to himself.
"Run away...?" Ginny pulled her forehead away from his, as if she hadn't heard him right. "Where to?"
"Anywhere that's far away from this nightmare of war." He was suddenly excited by the idea, wanting to inject it into her too. "A place where we can start over, without prophecies and lunatic wizards on our heels... A place where Aries and James can grow up without fear. Different from what we did."
"Draco, I-"
"We can leave today." He cut her off, subconsciously not wanting to hear what she had to say. "If any of your brothers can get a Portkey out of England, that should be enough: my family has accounts in other countries, far from the Dark Lord's influence. We'd just have to get my mother, the boys and—"
"Why run away?" Ginny interrupted him softly, placing a hand over his.
Draco made a monumental effort to not roll his eyes. Hadn't he given her enough reasons already?
"Because we're living in hell! And because we need to get to a safe place, to protect ourselves, our son. You know, I thought that was the whole idea that got us to this point." He pointed at himself, then at her. "Protection."
"Just for that?" Ginny's voice was small.
At that moment, Draco was certain that women's brains were the strangest and most incomprehensible organ and that no man should dare try to understand them.
"Just?! Salazar! You turned my life upside down for protection. You made me marry you, betray the Ministry and-" Draco took a deep breath to regain his patience. "What do you want me to say?"
"What do you feel, to begin with." Ginny looked into his eyes, as if searching for all the answers to her questions. "Why do you want to run away with me?"
Because I fucking love you, you vixen.
Draco was terrified by the untimely thought and opted for the easier answer. A half-truth.
"Bloody hell, Ginny!" He hissed angrily. It was the first time he had used that ridiculous nickname, but he barely registered the fact. "Because I'm fucking scared!"
Scared of Voldemort, but mostly scared of losing you, you foolish idiot, he thought at the limit of his patience.
That wasn't what she wanted to hear, once again. Draco knew it as soon as the words left his mouth.
Does she want me to say I love her? Draco despaired, not knowing how to act. What good would that do for the two of them at that moment?
Draco knew that was a crucial moment. He knew if he fucked this up, probably he would lose her.
But he was afraid. And Draco Malfoy had never taken fear well. He would either outsmart or run away from it.
He had never fought it, head on, like Ginevra was asking him to do.
Ginny shook her head sadly. "I think that's not enough, Draco."
That fucking word.
He had never been good enough for anyone. Let alone for her. He has known that fate for almost ten years now.
Draco felt outraged. Wasn't that enough? He had just said he wanted to be with her, to build a new life with her and… He didn't know what to think anymore.
Oblivious to his rage – his pain – Ginny went on. "I ran away from those I loved once, in search of protection, of peace. I don't regret it under any circumstances because it brought me so many things... But it made me lose a multitude of others and now I have the chance to recover all of them. I'd just leave my family's love for something as big and strong."
For your love.
Her sentence hung in the air, waiting for him.
But the words got stuck in his throat, suffocate by confusion, anger, torment and hurt.
And she waited.
And he hesitated.
She waited.
He backed away.
He knew how to back away.
"Aren't we together anymore?" Ginny asked, sadness permeating her voice. "Is this where we ended then?"
"How can something that never started find its end?" Draco's tone was absolutely expressionless – the one that hide his sadness. "It seems that what we went through together was a short-lived and foolish reverie."
Then Ginny got up, brushed the sand off her dress and prepared to leave, with an expression he had never seen on her face before: a third sad, a third irritated, a third tired.
"You don't want to run away because of him." Draco said suddenly, without looking at her. Even though he hadn't meant for the words to come out so full of jealousy, he liked the effect it had on her.
Ginevra almost flinched as if she'd been slapped; he wanted to hurt her just as he felt hurt.
"This isn't fair, Draco." she whispered, still visibly struck by his words.
"Fairness, Ginevra," Draco stressed the word dismissively and mercilessly. "It's a luxury for very few."
Ginny straightened, her defiant posture returning.
"When Harry realised what he felt, he was never afraid to tell me." She replied, and for the first time, Draco couldn't fathom what was going on with her.
With that, she headed towards the house without once looking back at him.
She made her choice, Draco thought and closed his eyes in an instinctive gesture he got used to make since he was a child, as if by not seeing the world, the world would not be able to see him either.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Ginny hurried away from the beach as fast as she could, an irritating tear running down her cheek annoyingly. She wiped it away with the back of her hand in a furious gesture.
What a big twat you are, Draco Malfoy! she thought frantically. Big, stupid, and an utterly twat.
Some rational part of her mind told her that reacting hesitantly to his invitation - without giving him any further explanation - had not been one of her wisest attitudes either, but Ginny paid no attention to it, preferring to focus her attention on badmouthing Draco however she could.
She could tell there was something there, that Draco had finally shown something of what he felt, something related to her, but Ginny desperately needed to hear it from him. To know clearly what he felt, to know that she was not alone in this crazy jumble of feelings that had been plaguing her for the last few months.
She needed to feel safe before she could think about leaving her family behind. She had already left those she loved behind once and it had been so painful, so heartbreaking… She wouldn't abandon them again because of unspoken feelings, hidden desires and promises of what might happen.
Feeling safe, with Draco Malfoy?, the small voice in her head scoffed and Ginny sighed. Why did everything have to be so hard? Why did they have to make things so hard?
She wanted to get away from everything and isolate herself somewhere to think, but her expectations were soon dashed when she saw Harry coming towards her.
Ginny stopped and closed her eyes wearily. In one single day, she would have to deal with Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. She felt it was her civil right to fake a faint and spend the next six months locked in her room, but gave up on it. This was no time for this.
"Hello, Gin." Harry smiled at her and waved friendly. "I've been looking for you everywhere, but I couldn't find you." He gestured toward the monstrous building that had once taken on the simplicity of Shell Cottage. "This place is pretty crazy."
"I think building proportionate and harmonic houses was never a natural talent for my family." Ginny smiled weakly in response. "Did you say you wanted to talk to me?"
"Erm, yes, but not just with you." Harry looked a little more serious before going on, "Would you mind walking with me to the Fleur's garden?"
Shaking her head, Ginny signalled for them to proceed and they walked towards the small, cozy garden.
"I'm glad we can talk, actually. So many things happened and I didn't have time to talk to you before, to ask for your forgiveness." Ginny said gently. "I think today is my day to apologise to people. There are still a few people on the list." Her tone was easygoing, almost amused, but inside Ginny was thinking of her parents and Narcissa, the almost suffocating need to apologise to them too.
"Gin, don't be so hard on yourself like that. You-"
Ginny smiled but interrupted Harry when he started to protest at her statement. "I had no right to use your memories, let alone use it to blackmail someone else. It was unscrupulous."
"You did it to protect our son, so I can only thank you." Harry tried to smile, but it died a little when he remembered the consequences of that blackmail.
Her involvement with Draco.
"I'm sorry they were destroyed, by the way." Ginny commented sheepishly.
Just one more thing on the huge list of things I fucked up, isn't it?
Harry shrugged. "Mrs. Malfoy came to me this morning and gave me the memories she had of our meetings." He commented thoughtfully and Ginny widened her eyes in astonishment. "She said she didn't need them anymore and didn't want to have memories of what had happened."
"That was quite unexpected." Ginny stated thoughtfully. Narcissa Malfoy never ceased to be a source of surprise to her.
"Tell me about it." Harry agreed, still a little shocked by Narcissa's attitude. "And there's more: she said that only I had the right to have them and no one else. That it was a matter of making things right."
Harry shook his head as if the world was suddenly off its axys and Ginny whistled in awe.
"So now I know everything that happened, thanks to her." Harry continued after a few moments of surprised silence. "Quite a woman, isn't it?"
"An extraordinary one, yes." Ginny replied, remembering all the surprises and nuances that her mother-in-law's character had brought her in the last few months.
They arrived at the garden where flowers and plants were arranged in a harmonious way, the only place with a level of symmetry at the Shell Cottage. They found James sitting on a bench next to Fleur, pretending to listen to the Frenchwoman who was talking animatedly, with a baby almost the age of Aries in her lap. Ginny couldn't help but smile at her niece, even though her heart sank at the sight of James, so dejected.
"I asked Fleur to bring him here, so we could talk." Harry whispered to her. "The three of us."
Feeling the two approaching, Fleur stood up and kissed James goodbye, waved to Harry and Ginny and headed back to the house, taking little Dominique with her, who was babbling excitedly.
Ginny sat down beside James, putting her arms around his shoulders, who didn't move. Harry sat on the other side, and an awkward silence fell between them.
"He's my dad, isn't he?" James asked without looking at Ginny, breaking the deafening silence.
Ginny closed her eyes. She thought she would be ready for this, to confess that she had lied, that she had hidden so many things from her son. But she was not.
However, there were no more choices for her. "Yes, dear. He is."
"My name is Harry James Potter." Harry said and gently placed his hand on the boy's knee, who trembled at the contact but did not pull away. "I never imagined I'd have a son, especially one as brave as you. I'm very happy to meet you, James."
"How do you know I'm really brave?" James asked in disbelief.
"Well, you've been brought to a place you've never been to, full of people who may seem hostile and strange, without not really knowing what's going on. It sounds pretty scary to me." Harry argued sympathetically. "And I haven't seen you show any fear once, quite the opposite actually."
Still not fully accepting the words, James shifted uneasily.
"Potter..." The boy tried out the name—his real name—as if trying to get used to the sound of it. He looked up at his father for the first time, and Ginny could see the purple lines of tiredness and sadness beneath his green eyes. "Where were you? I thought we were alone… It's bad to think that we don't have anyone else."
Ginny sighed… James had been deprived of a family and she could only measure the extent of that at that moment. She held the boy tighter against her, who remained still, far from her.
"I know how hard it is, son." Harry tasted the word in his mouth for the first time, and Ginny felt her eyes sting with unshed tears, knowing he was referring to his own childhood, when Harry himself had had no one."I was... unable to go after you." He hesitated at the word, as if he couldn't find a better one or was embarrassed to explain that, in part, that separation had been his fault too. "But there are always people who take care of us, sometimes in ways we're not used to or want. The truth is that they're always there, with us. Like your mother, for example."
James made a sound that sounded very much like the disdainful sniff that was so uncharacteristic of him, and Ginny flinched.
"Like Della," James said after a moment.
"Yeah, like Della." Harry nodded.
For the first time, James turned fully to Harry.
"Uncle Ron said you had an elf too, who died trying to save you." He seemed to consider this for a minute, before pointing to his heart. "Will it go away?"
Harry automatically understood the reference to the pain the boy was feeling.
"Not completely." He answered with sincerity. "But, with time, the pain gets smaller and makes room for other things, like good memories."
"Uncle Geof... Uncle George," James corrected himself automatically, and Ginny saw how he had glanced at her, an accusatory glint in his eyes for lying about George's name in what seemed like ages ago. "told me something like that. Do you think he lost someone too?"
"He did." Ginny answered before Harry could, more to herself than to them. "We all did."
It still hurt so much to think about Fred...
After a few minutes where the three of them spent lost in their own thoughts, James stood up, pulling out of Ginny's embrace and looking at Harry. "I think I like you. Do you know how to play Quidditch?"
Harry smirked. "A little, but I must be rusty. Would you like to practice with me?"
The boy's smile brightened for the first time since Della's death.
"Of course! Mr. Malfoy taught me how to fly, you'll see!" James said and Ginny mentally thanked Harry when he didn't let the boy see the displeasure he was surely feeling.
However, the smile quickly died when her son seemed to remember something. "But promise me you won't lie to me? I think-" He gathered his courage, raising his upturned nose, as Ginny herself used to do, "-that I don't really like being lied to."
If possible, Ginny cringed even more.
"I promise, James." Harry said and offered his hand to the boy as if they were making a deal. "I must not tell lies."
James shook it with an adult air and smiled slightly.
"And as proof of my trust in you, I have something to show you." With a gentle flick of his wand, Harry seemed to have conjured something. Ginny and James looked closely, finding nothing. Then Harry reached across his lap, lifting something in his hands. Something light, fluid, soft. Something invisible.
The Invisibility Cloak! Ginny thought, frowning. Was there any need to show James the cloak now?
"What's this?" James asked, running his small hand over the cloak, overcome by curiosity.
"It's an invisibility cloak. It's been passed down through generations in my family." Harry threw the cloak over the boy's shoulders, leaving only his head visible. James squealed in delight, looking down at himself. "Do you like it?"
"Awesome!" James was thrilled, completely fascinated by the magic artifact. "So it will be mine someday!?"
"When the time is right." Harry smiled, removing the cloak from his son's shoulders. "Until then, we can use it together to have free access to your grandmother's kitchen before dinner. How about some cauldron cakes now?"
James nodded vigorously, excited by the idea. Then he seemed to remember Della's cauldron cakes and visibly wilted.
"Another day, I guess." He changed his mind, looking downcast. "It was nice talking to you though."
Harry nodded, respecting his son's wishes. James waved him goodbye with a sad smile, still ignoring Ginny.
With that, he headed to the house, still filled with grief for his friend.
James's reaction diverted Ginny's attention from all the unwanted behaviours that wearing the cloak could cause.
"He'll get over it, Gin." Harry approached her on the bench and held her hand comfortingly. "He just needs some time."
It was clear that the relationship between Ginny and James had been shaken, even to Harry, who barely knew his son. Ginny just looked at the flowers in front of her, sighing.
"On second thought, I also need some time…" Harry continued to smile sadly before going on quietly. "Having a son who sees Malfoy as the closest thing to a father makes me a little… confused."
Ginny nodded; she was afraid that if she said anything she would burst into tears. This whole situation with Draco, with James, and with her family was making her feel like she was going to have a nervous breakdown.
"I'm so sorry I got you involved in all this," Harry said regretfully. "The prophecy Malfoy talked about—"
"We had no way of knowing, Harry." Ginny interrupted, sniffling to keep from crying. "And even if I'd known, I wouldn't have stopped conceiving James. He's one of the two most precious things I've got."
Harry smiled. "I promise I'll take care of this. Protect our son." He turned Ginny's face to him, running his thumb over the cheek streaked by a tear that had slipped from her eye. "Protect you."
"I believe you." She lowered her gaze and laid her hand gently on his.
She wanted to go find James and clarify anything he wanted to know, destroy any secrets that might still lurk between them, but Harry was quicker.
He brought his face closer to hers and they lips touched.
Ginny stiffened suddenly. In the next instant, she didn't know if it was the anger she felt towards Draco, the overwhelming need for contact and support, her imminent breakdown or if it was simply some part of her that still wondered 'what if the situation with Harry had been different?', but the truth was that she simply gave in, allowing his tongue to wrap around hers and her body to be carried into his arms.
It was sweet. The Ginny Weasley inside her smiled softly, remembering the afternoons in the Hogwarts' gardens, the games around the lake, the night in the Hufflepuff dormitories.
However, that did not please Ginevra Malfoy.
She didn't want to, but inevitably her treacherous body made the wrong comparisons: Harry's kiss was like a light breeze blowing on her face, refreshing, welcome, comforting.
But it wasn't enough, because she had already experienced the tumultuous storm of Draco's kiss; desperate, possessive, devastating kisses that left her breathless, surrendered. That always left her wanting more.
Ginny closed her eyes against the thought, but she didn't know if it had helped. Thinking about Draco without being near him only made the need she felt for him much more compelling, much more visceral.
It went beyond a purely physical issue. It was almost as if, before, there had been nothing.
Ginny was not just smitten with Draco. She loved him.
And realising that while kissing Harry almost made her laugh in despair.
She pulled away gently, breaking the kiss, and Harry looked slightly confused.
"I guess I'm rusty about that too." He commented, misreading Ginny's reaction and smiling gently.
Ginny removed his hand from her face and held it gently. "No, Harry," It was her turn to smile. "You - and your kiss - are still as good as before. I guess who eventually changed was me, after all."
Harry's expression automatically darkened as he understood the implications of what she meant.
"Don't tell me this is about Malfoy, Ginny." He leaned against the bench as if seeking additional support and brushed his dark hair out of his face. "It makes no sense. You - him - together."
"And since when does life make sense, Harry?" Ginny asked, and felt sad as she remembered her conversation with Draco, how he had despised everything he could not rationalise. "Everything is a bloody mess."
And in that moment of hurt, Ginny wished she could have continued loving Harry, knowing that everything would be so much easier... Draco and her would be free, far from the conventions of a marriage made for the wrong reasons. They could finally go their separate ways, putting an end to those times.
But from an early age Ginny learned that she almost never got what she wanted. She was hopelessly tied to Draco Malfoy, and not for legal reasons.
Harry didn't answer her question, preferring a different approach.
"I saw the way he treats you, everyone did. We thought it was a... farse."
Ginny almost rolled her eyes. Her family and Harry still preferred to believe in what was easiest, in what was most acceptable.
"Harry, Aries wasn't delivered by a stork." Ginny said coldly, not caring about the brutality of the statement. "Where do you think the farse is when a baby is conceived by two consenting adults?"
Harry blushed slightly. "You understood what I meant. I thought…that now that I'm back and you're with your family, protected, we could be together…" He lowered his gaze, looking down at his lap. "I thought you'd wait for me."
And the sentence came out with a mixture of shame, hurt and compassion that Ginny found quite unfair.
Maybe fairness really is a luxury for few people, she thought sadly.
"Harry, I didn't even know you were alive…" She said apologetically and Harry felt guilty because, in part, he had chosen to isolate within himself, pulling away from Ginny in the process. "And then Draco appeared."
Harry tried again, not wanting to hear anything about Malfoy, about what had happened to them in the last year and a half.
"We can make this work, Gin." He squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her. "I know you're confused. You see, he didn't marry Ginny Weasley, we can find a way to annul it all."
"I'm not confused!" Ginny firmly shook away his assumptions with her head. "It's not the marriage that keeps me by his side."
Harry's green eyes widened.
"You're throwing everything we've lived - both of us - in the bin because of Draco Malfoy?" Harry muttered, still in disbelief. "The person who has harrassed us since we were eleven, who has harmed us in every possible way, who has created chaos in our lives since he opened the doors of Hogwarts to his fellow Death Eaters?"
Ginny cringed at each sentence, feeling the sting of her own hurt and doubts reflected in Harry's words. However, she did not give in; not for Harry's sake, nor for her own insecurities.
"You said yourself that he didn't want to kill Dumbledore. He was just as trapped and cornered in this war as we were." Harry snorted derisively, but Ginny forced herself to continue. "They're different burdens, Harry, but that doesn't mean that either of them is easy to carry."
"It doesn't change who he is. Who he was raised to become, what he believes in." Harry insisted.
"People can change." Ginny stated and stared at Harry with all the conviction she could muster. "You know that more than anyone, from what you told me about Professor Snape."
Harry flinched at the mention of the ex-hated Professor and did not speak again until a moment later.
"It's true, people can change. If they are willing to. Do you think Draco Malfoy - of all people - is willing to change for you?"
"I don't know." Ginny answered sincerely. "In fact, I don't even know if I want him to change for me. I'm feeling this way about Draco for what he is, despite all his flaws - which are many, I won't deny it. The point is… these flaws are part of him, they helped to build him as a person. Without any of these characteristics, he wouldn't be Draco Malfoy, would he?" She smiled kindly, accepting the Herculean task of making that conversation lighter.
"He would be a more pleasant person, that's for sure." Harry ran a hand through his hair, disorganising it further. "Is this an end, then?"
Ginny looked sadly at him. "I gave myself completely to you while we were together and it was so beautiful, Harry. I gave you my first love, my innocence and my heart. But, unfortunately, they're gone forever. The war ended the first two and the third one belongs to someone else now."
"Malfoy." Harry grunted, controlling as much as possible the disappointment that bubbled up inside him.
"Yes." Ginny agreed effortlessly. And even though she was angry with Draco and suspecting that he might never be able to feel the same about her, she voiced her feelings out loud, stating with conviction what had already been made explicit in their conversation. "I love Draco Malfoy."
Harry visibly flinched at the statement, but gave no reply. Then, passing a hand lightly across Harry's face in farewell, Ginny stood up and left in search of some peace of mind.
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Driven by the impetuosity and ferocity that only anger could provide, Draco headed towards the monstrous lair that the Weasleys called the Resistance headquarters, with quick and determined steps.
He wasn't going to let himself be carried away by those feelings for another minute. Since when being this vulnerable did any good to me?
No, he would rely solely on his coldness to deal with the problems.
No childish promises, no proposals of escape.
None of that was for him and it never had been.
Draco was a successful survivor. And he had only been so up until now because he didn't have the red-haired shrew to worry about, to cloud his reason.
Putting on his most insolent smirk, he entered like a hurricane - without knocking - into the room where the jackrabbits held their Resistance's meetings, drawing everyone's attention to himself and creating a silence full of expectations.
They were all there: the father of the clan; the one who had been incompetent enough to not become a werewolf after being bitten by one; the evil ex-twin; the pompous one who looked like he had a stick up his arse and the Potter bootlicker, the one Draco hated the most. Plus, the Half-Blood Granger, of course, and all bloody Order's sycophantic friends completing the party.
Thank Merlin Potter wasn't there either and Draco held back a grimace at the thought of where he was.
With her.
He had followed Ginevra after their argument, though he wasn't sure if it was to insult her, to anger her, or to kiss her until she lost the ability to say things that annoyed him, but as always, the universe had not conspired in his favour.
He had seen how the hateful Scarhead had surrounded her and taken her to the vella's garden. He had seen how they had sat there, joining James and forming the perfect, incorruptible family.
Draco felt his expression harden. He knew he should have turned and left, but then James had stood up, said something to Scarhead, and left, ignoring Ginevra.
And that, in some bizarre way, had upset Draco on a level he would never be able to admit. He didn't want the situation between Ginevra and the boy to end up like that.
He wanted to intervene, to console Ginevra, who was clearly shaken by the boy's behaviour – which Draco could not condemn under any circumstances. She had lied to him for years, after all – but the Perfect Potter got there first and approached her with those malnourished cricket arms...
She didn't push him away.
Ginevra definitely didn't push him away.
And Draco felt as if he were being slowly stabbed, a clammy chill running down his spine.
Then he closed his eyes, anticipating what was to come. And even though he hadn't actually seen what had happened, he knew.
You make your choices, then you deal with them, he thought, holding back that devastating feeling.
Then, gathering what was left of his dignity, he turned on his heel and went to look for the rest of the red-haired gang in that place.
She had made her choice.
Returning to the less painful present - but not so much - it was precisely Ron that narrowed his green eyes dangerously at him. However, it was Ginevra's father who spoke.
"Is there anything we can do for you, Draco?" He asked in a solicitous tone that annoyed Malfoy for no reason.
Everyone else looked away from him as if embarrassed. George Weasley didn't even bother to do that actually: he was leaning over a table where strategic attack points were projected onto a map of the country, and he could not be arsed to look at Draco as if the Slytherin wasn't entertaining enough.
He shivered at being treated so intimately by Ginevra's father , but did not ignore the fact that they had stopped the meeting so he wouldn't hear anything that was being said.
Of course, they'd never tell me anything about the confidential conversations of the noble and ethical Resistance, even though I'm free now, Draco thought, holding back a grimace. I, the one who is only here because I'm bound by an Unbreakable Vow to the son of fucking Potter.
"Actually, yes." He drawled the words trying to sound as unpleasant as possible – and succeeding in the attempt. "I do need something."
This time Ron laughed audibly, looking at him with an expression of 'have you lost your mind?'. Then, he decided in that carrot-head of his that he could verbalise his thoughts on the matter.
"And why do you think we'd do anything for you?"
Draco crossed his arms and looked at him coldly.
"Because you owe me." He spoke slowly as if he wanted them all to register every word.
Everyone present raised their heads, shock written all over their faces.
"Oooi?" George interrupted the moment of surprise, for the first time distracting himself from his strategic maps, making them disappear with a wave of his wand and drawing everyone's attention to himself. "Maybe I didn't hear you right." He placed a hand over his missing ear. "How exactly do we owe you, Malfoy?"
After opening and closing his mouth a few times in utter disbelief, Ron managed to get out a sentence that made sense, his expression of surprise giving way to anger that almost distorted his features.
"Oh, George," Rony snapped his finger before Draco could respond as if he had just remembered something. "Maybe we owe him for letting the Death Eaters enter Hogwarts, don't we?"
Draco was also getting angry, but noted with satisfaction the fact that Ron had clenched his fists at his sides. At least he wouldn't be the only one seething with anger today.
Without waiting George's answer, Ron turned to his oldest brother. "Do you think you own Malfoy your contact with Fenrir Greyback, Bill? Do you think you own him your scars?"
"Ron, I don't think-" Bill began, but was cut off by his brother's overwhelming fury.
"Or maybe we own him Dumbledore's death, which really was his fault, even though he had no balls to finish the deed back then." Ron was almost snarling, years of barely contained anger and hurt being thrown out violently. "Is that it, Malfoy? Do we own you all the pain, suffering and death you brought us? Because if that's it, this is a debt I'm more than willing to pay in kind."
With each word Draco felt his knees getting weaker and he had the horrible sensation that he was turning pale. That was a period that had certainly contributed to the formation of the adult he had become, of who he was, but that Draco avoided thinking about it at all costs, out of fear, horror, despair... guilt.
And everything got worse when Loony Lovegood wouldn't stop watching him fixedly with those clear, bulging eyes.
A heavy mood settled over the room, and Minerva McGonagall visibly flinched at the mention of Dumbledore. Hermione stood up quickly, standing next to Ron.
"That's not the smartest approach, Ron." She unconsciously pulled him close to her, in a soft, protective gesture. "Given the current situation, we-"
"He was our brother, Hermione." George interrupted her with clenched teeth and without looking at her, supporting Ron's words and glaring at Draco. No one in the room dared to ask who he was referring to. "Merlin, he was my brother."
It was really quite strange to see George Weasley without the mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Definitely, Weasley," Draco pointed at Ron and then at George – grimacing as he realised his hand was shaking, "I won't be your fucking scapegoat."
"I don't think Draco had anything to do with Fred's death..." Luna joined the discussion in her dreamy voice. "Perhaps we're feeding the hurts of the past endlessly and using it as weapons at the first opportunity. It's not very healthy, if you ask me."
"And what a healthy life we lead, huh?" George muttered darkly.
"The past," Luna continued with a strange aura of kind authority. "is given. It's up to us choosing whether we'll run away from it or relive it," She said softly and then turned directly to Draco, making him shiver as if she were reading the deepest corners of his soul. "or even if we're going to learn from it. Don't you agree, Draco?"
"Come on, Luna!" Ron threw up his hands, not allowing Draco to even think about answering for fear that his voice would sound thin or squeaky. "You think he's a saint now? After all the years he spent tormenting us, at school, during the war."
Luna seemed to consider the question seriously for a moment, tilting her head thoughtfully.
"No, not a saint..." She responded willingly to a rhetorical question. "He's just human."
"One of the worst kind." Someone Draco couldn't recognise coughed from the back of the room, but he ignored the insult.
The comment set off a wave of others—polite or not—about Draco's presence there, about everything he'd done, and even how he'd probably cast an Imperius Curse on Ginevra.
Draco closed his eyes, suddenly feeling so tired of being condemned without even a fair trial, without anyone even bothering to ask what he had been through.
He wasn't a saint, really. But he wasn't a monster either, was he?
"I do not like Mr. Malfoy's attitude, nor do I like his actions that led us… to this point." Minerva McGonagall was saying when Draco managed to focus on the conversation once more. "But I think we should maintain civility when discussing it. Acting on revenge and resentment puts us on the same level as those we fight against." She could not resist giving him a look filled with an undefined sense of hurt and pity.
"Agreed, Minerva." Kingsley had his arms crossed over his broad chest. "We're willing to hear you out, Mr. Malfoy. Why should we —whoever you're classifying as such—help you?"
"As I said, you owe me!" Draco repeated more vehemently, in case the idiots hadn't understood the first time. When all he got in response was more incredulous looks and cynical expressions, he decided he couldn't count on subtlety.
Fucking Gryffindors, obtuse and unable to read between the lines, he thought bitterly.
"You owe me for saving your life!" He pointed at Percy with all the cruelty he could muster, holding up his index and middle fingers in sequence, as if the Weasley couldn't count. "Twice."
Percy looked up, adjusting his glasses, which had slipped down to the end of his pointy nose. "Considering the fact that I ended up hexed both times…"
"Would it better for you if I let my father deal with you?" Draco raised a mocking eyebrow. "Or would you rather stay at the Ministry, awaiting the Dark Lord's benevolence?"
When his question was met with only silence and Percy lowered his eyes in defeat, Draco gained more confidence to continue speaking.
You're not the only ones who know how to hurt with the truth, are you?, he thought full of resentment.
"You owe me for saving that bloody dragon-lover." He continued to speak mercilessly, reveling in the way that most of those present shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. "For not having dragged him back to England when I could – when I should. And I assure you, as the leader of the Resistance abroad, Azkaban would be a summer camp compared to what he was going to endure."
At the height of his icy fury, Draco rejoiced to see Arthur Weasley shudder and his sons look away at the prospect of seeing a brother in pain.
Draco smiled like a predator and opened his mouth to say, 'You owe me for saving Ginevra,' but suddenly he realised he hadn't done it for them – or for himself.
He had saved Ginevra a few times simply because he could no longer conceive a world without Ginny Weasley's vitality, strength, and determination in it.
Then Draco closed his mouth and felt a wave of discouragement wash over him, thinking of what had become his mantra in the last few minutes.
She made her choice.
And it's the fucking time for me to make mine, Draco thought and crossed his arms over his chest, resuming his arrogant posture.
"What do you want from us, Mr. Malfoy?" Kingsley said, his baritone voice carrying an undeniable tiredness of those who admit defeat.
Draco's grey eyes swept over everyone present, making his point absolutely clear.
"I want to leave this bloody place," he demanded as if he were bored. "And the sooner the better."