Every day Ginny took a walk. Harry joked about it to her, usually saying, “You just want to make sure the world’s still there, don’t you?” Then he laughed, and she smiled, wanting to humour him. Sometimes she denied it, saying,“I know the world’s there without going out into it, you know.” And sometimes they would both laugh, both smile.

Every day Draco took a walk. “You’re escaping, aren’t you?” Astoria would laugh, and he always rolled his eyes, as if not bothering to answer such a ridiculous question. She would smile in the way that told him she was clearly in love with him, and sometimes he would smile back.

No one ever came with Ginny on those short walks she took. Her three children somehow sensed that she never wanted company, and for that she was glad. The walks were her time alone – her only time.

Harry used to question her about them; when they were newlyweds, he thought they should be doing everything together, but she always insisted she wanted her own time just to be. Once she let him, during one of those times when she loved him completely, and felt bad for hiding a part of herself from him. But once she was on her walk, she changed: she was silent, melancholy, and reminiscent. Though Harry was often oblivious about other things, after that one experience he never asked again.

Scorpius used to beg his father to let him come on his walk, but Draco would usually say no, or sometimes when he allowed it, he would take his own walk later. Draco needed his walk, and didn’t want a child to interrupt his thoughts.

Once Astoria asked him when they were first married, and he felt so guilty he agreed. But he was different on his walk, and didn’t want company. Like so many other things, she understood that, and never asked again. But she still jokingly said her line every time, because she was used to always doing the same thing.

And she was right. He was escaping his home, the place that showed his mistake, his biggest mistake. He had once had a chance at happiness, but it had left him, and that was all his fault.

Ginny frequently thought of Harry’s words, about wanting to make sure the world was still there. Though he was joking, he was exactly right, more so than he would ever realise.

The world was a large place and she only saw the smallest part of it. Her home was expected to be her world, and she was supposed to be happy, like her mother. How she wanted to be like her mother! To be content, and never think about the risk she didn’t want to take, the world she had refused to be a part of.

They both remembered things on their walk, things that they would have been better off forgetting.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She was in her fifth year, and knew Draco was a Death Eater. But she didn’t understand, and needed to understand. A few times they had spoken. It seemed unbelievable, and both of them, at first, were cold, haughty – because he was the pureblood supremacist and she was the blood traitor.

“Malfoy,” she told him, the last time they spoke, after they were getting comfortable with each other, “there are other options; you don’t have to do whatever you’re doing.”

He shook his head. For weeks the conversations they had were the only light in his world; her hair and her personality seemed to brighten the room, make him happy. It was better than a fire ever could be. But now she had voiced his thoughts: other options. But she was wrong. He didn’t have options when he had already given up his life.

“What about you, Weasley? Happy with Potter, are you? Ready to be a housewife already?” he spat.

She looked sad for a moment, and angry. Maybe she was dating Harry, but that was no concern of his; he had told her that. A few weeks ago, when she first told him about Harry, he had claimed he didn’t care, that she could date whoever she wanted.

“And you don’t even feel bad,” he said, leaning closer to her, his grey eyes glowing as he broke for the first time; he had been holding everything in for a year. “You don’t feel bad dating him while you look at me the way you do? When you know you aren’t happy with him, and never could be?”

“I am happy!” she insisted, glaring at him, flipping her fiery hair over her shoulder.

“Then why do you come here? Because you want to make sure there’s a world outside of the cage you’re in?”

He was hurting her, and they both knew it, both felt it. They had known it would happen eventually. They couldn’t be together any longer when they were both set in their conviction, even though she was sure he didn’t want to be the person he was becoming.

He could see it in her eyes when he hurt her, and he always hated the look that came over her brown eyes. But usually the hurt was just for a moment, until she got angry.

“I’m not in a cage, Malfoy! If anything, you are. Stuck here, trying to do something you don’t want to, just so that you can be the best!”

“You’re right that I’m stuck,” he answered so softly she could barely hear, looking at her in a way that made her sure he understood her, in spite of it all. “But I thought you knew why I’m stuck – I thought you knew the reason–”

“I do!” she said, looking down, not wanting to see the feelings in his eyes; sometimes she wished his expressions were harder to read, so it wouldn’t give her that jolt of hurt to only further his suffering.

“But you can’t be with me anymore,” he finished for her, nodding. “I understand. After all, you are just a blood traitor,” he added maliciously, feeling a knife in his heart at the words.

A tear leaked from the corner of her eye, and he just barely saw it before she disappeared.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Ginny didn’t know why she forced herself to remember that day, why she remembered the pain. That was the last time they had talked, and she knew she had hurt him deeply. She suffered dearly for her temper that day; she never forgave herself after that.

Draco thought often of that time, and always felt terrible for what he did. Of all the people he knew, she was the only one who was willing to see him for who he was, but eventually that didn’t matter. Now it did, though. Now he knew she was the one he should have been with.

She thought often of Harry, and his role in everything. She pretended to be perfectly happy in front of him. She bore his children, cleaned his house, worked at the Ministry with him, but nothing mattered, after a while. Draco had been right – she was caged.

Draco wanted to escape, and he was still trapped, though no longer a Death Eater. Ginny had been right; Astoria had been right. Everyone seemed to know such crucial things about him that he had such trouble realising.

Sometimes, they both remembered the very last time they had been in contact.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Her most reckless act had been near the end of that year. She had walked up to where he was standing, and lightly kissing him. She didn’t say anything. She quickly remembered everyone she’d kissed, and how harshly she’d snogged them. But this kiss was light, barely there. His lips were cold, and chilled her. So did the look in his face when she pulled back.

He was startled, and wanted to feel disgusted. But he didn’t, he couldn’t. Because he had wanted that for so long, and now when it was finally happening, he couldn’t respond.

He knew she was forgiving him, telling him she knew he didn’t mean it. And when she looked at him he wanted to tell her he was sorry, but instead he reached his pale hand out and lightly brushed her hair from her face. All year long he had wanted to touch her hair, and was surprised it wasn’t burning like fire.

He saw a single tear again, and he felt himself melt. “Ginny–” he started, but stopped abruptly.

She gasped, and looked up at him. They never said each other’s first names, not ever. Because that was a line they had silently agreed on, a line neither would ever cross.

The word came suddenly, like she had been starving and just saying it would nourish her, “Draco–”

But she stopped too, because he was looking away. He reached forward and touched her hair again, and swiftly brought his lips to the top of her head.

He didn’t say anything, because there was nothing to say. There would never be anything else, not anymore. They had chosen, and had chosen wrong.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Draco remembered that moment, and he was chilled. That memory always left him cold, lifeless. There were so many things he regretted, and that was the biggest. He had given up that chance at happiness… and for what? He had nothing; his sacrifice was pointless.

Often Ginny thought of that moment, and every time it made her shudder. One part of her thought maybe that she could have changed his mind if she had just tried harder. Maybe she could have saved him a year sooner. But that was in the past, and she shouldn’t dwell on it… But she still did.

Draco wished he could stop thinking of the past and start thinking about the future, but there was no future for him. He did love his wife, and he did love Scorpius. But it wasn’t enough. He thought of his family, and knew that this was the life he was destined to have since he was a child, and everyone was right. He hadn’t changed at all, and that was his cage. He had built up his walls so securely that even when Ginny had held the door open for him, he didn’t take it. Now the door was shut and locked. The only thing he had now was memories.

She did love Harry. He was her husband, her first love. But he was her best friend, and that was probably all it should have been in the first place. Often she felt terrible, because she realised that she had married the name, her own version of Harry. But that wasn’t the real Harry – not the Harry she had to live with. She couldn’t pretend anymore, but it was too late.

Astoria was perfect, and was exactly the kind of wife he wanted. She didn’t ask questions, she understood him, and she loved him completely. But she was sweet, kind, gentle, soft. She wasn’t fiery, and he wanted that… He missed that.

He always remembered Ginny in the same way. She stood tall, and her personality burned brighter than the hair he longed to touch. She was his light in a time that was so dark. He could never forget her, or thank her enough for what she did to him. She showed him there was another way; that the other side wasn’t terrible or shameful. Even though he should have hated her, he fell in love with her – the blood traitor Weasley girl. But she was more than that. She kept him in line, led him, in a way. She saved him, and made him love her. Then she left, and left him broken.

Sometimes Ginny thought of why she had fallen for Draco, because it wasn’t obvious, like why she fell for Harry. Harry was the hero – safety – everything she should have wanted. Draco was weaker, but stronger in another way. He was stuck, and she wanted to help him. She loved to make him happy, to make him forget. She loved seeing a smile spread across his face in spite of the fact that he hated to show how happy he was. She loved to watch him try to be mean, tough, when he wasn’t. He wasn’t perfect like Harry, and that was why she loved him.

On their walks they both changed, both remembered things they shouldn’t have. But they were powerless to resist the haunting memories of what could have been, but would never be.

---

Draco stared up at the trees as he walked back home, decades later. All the leaves had fallen, and he looked to his feet as they crunched underneath him. He stared as the red-orange leaves fell apart.

He stopped, staring at them, feeling there was something significant in them. It gave him a terrible feeling, like they meant something personal. But then he shook his head to clear his thoughts. He sounded like an idiot.

Looking forward purposefully, he walked inside.

“Anything happen while I was gone, Astoria?” he couldn’t help but ask, again feeling foolish about the anxiety he felt. He just kept seeing the crushed, red leaves, but didn’t know what it meant… Or, indeed, if it meant anything at all.

“No, I don’t think so.” She smiled.

He stared at her features, so different from Ginny’s. Her hair was black, and her eyes were clear blue. She had none of the fire and passion, but was very mellow and gentle. He wished he could hate her, but it was impossible. He couldn’t deny that he did feel a friendship for her.

He wondered what Ginny was doing at that moment, and if she ever remembered him. He shuddered suddenly, and felt very, very cold. He glanced at the fireplace.

“When did the fire go out, Astoria?” he asked, that feeling of illogical anxiety filling him up again.

“It went out earlier. I tried to light it, but it wouldn’t for some reason.”

He stared at the empty fireplace, wishing he could see the red-orange flames again. But it had been a long time since he’d seen that colour, and he doubted he ever would again.

He shivered again, but for a different reason. The feeling of apprehension came back, and he knew it was because there was something he wasn’t seeing – something he didn’t know.

When he tried to light the fire, he failed. But that wasn’t surprising, since he had always been bad at that spell.

---

The next day he leafed through the Daily Prophet, barely glancing at the articles. Then his eyes stopped.

His eyes scanned an article as his heart nearly stopped. He shuddered, and looked up at the fire. But it was out, like last night. He doubted it would ever be lit again. As that thought crossed his mind, his face paled, and the paper fell open to the ground as he raced out the door.

Astoria looked, curious, at the open door. She softly picked up the paper and saw the article. “So she’s the one,” she whispered to herself, glad to have the mystery finally solved, but heartbroken for Draco, since the one he was in love with had died.

---

He stared down at the fresh mound of earth. He never got far enough into the article to find out how she had died, but he didn’t care, because he didn’t want to know. All that mattered was that he had never been able to say goodbye. Even when confronted with her death, he felt guilty about what he had done with his life.

He laughed hallowly that he had found out about her death from a newspaper. There had never been any life to their relationship – because they had made it that way – and it was only right that no living person should deliver the news.

Unable to think like that any longer, he set a bouquet of red-orange tulips onto the ground; when he saw them, they looked like her. Sitting back down, he put his head in his hands. Like he remembered Ginny had done those last times, a single tear escaped from his eye.

“Goodbye, Ginny,” he whispered, the name now only sounding natural, familiar. “I hope you know I’ve always loved you.”

A few hours later he stood and left the grave that held his heart.