Riverside

Draco took great, gasping breaths as he stumbled out of the lobby of the grand hotel. He leaned gratefully against the wall beside the gilded doors, trying to catch his breath and wondering what had just happened.

While chatting with Blaise Zabini, Draco had looked up to see his mother steering his almost-fiancée across the ballroom floor. Suddenly, he had felt as if the world was crashing down around him. He had felt almost the same as he had atop the Astronomy Tower, when he had realized he couldn’t kill Dumbledore after all. Years of social training had fallen by the wayside. He had allowed his champagne glass to shatter at his feet, then left Zabini without a word, pushing his way out of the ballroom. He had nearly knocked old Mrs. Avery to the floor in the process, and hadn’t even stopped to apologize.

Now Draco took one deep breath after another. Gradually, his heart rate returned to normal. He really should go back to the ball; his mother and Astoria would miss him soon. The thought caused his chest to constrict painfully. No, he couldn’t go back quite yet. He would take a little more time to calm himself.

A shout drew Draco’s attention to the magical barrier that hid the hotel from the Muggles. Through its subtle shimmer, he could see hundreds of people on the other side, no doubt gathered to celebrate the New Year on the banks of the Thames. Taking one last look at the hotel, Draco squared his shoulders, and stepped boldly through the gate.

The crowds quickly engulfed Draco. He began to panic; he’d never been this close to so many Muggles before. He’d have to get used to it, though, unless he wanted to go back to the ball. Bracing himself, he moved forward, and soon came to a clearing in the crowd.

Draco stopped to enjoy the fresh air. It took a moment for him to notice the reason for the break in the throng of people. Standing in the center was a man brandishing a large sword. As Draco watched, the man leaned back and the length of the sword disappeared down his throat. A murmur of awe passed through the crowd, and Draco had to stop himself from joining in. He watched, fascinated, as the man repeated the feat over and over. He couldn’t understand how he was doing it; he was sure no magic was involved.

After a while, the sword swallower packed up his swords and moved on. Draco walked aimlessly through the groups of people. The atmosphere of the gathering resembled that of the Quidditch World Cup, without the magical tents and broomsticks, of course. A teenaged boy tried desperately to get a girl’s attention. A tight knot of men passed around a bottle of alcohol. A handful of children raced each other to be the first to reach a hot chocolate vendor. Occasionally, someone jeered at his robes, but more often than not, the people in the crowd didn’t give Draco a second glance.

Draco was surprised by how normal the Muggles seemed, until his attention was caught by a strangely dressed group of men. There were about twenty of them, all dressed in long, flowing robes, many with long beards as well. They weren’t wizards, however; the cut of the robes was too old-fashioned even for the oldest warlock to wear. They were carrying signs and shouting out to passersby, “The end is here!”

Draco stopped in his tracks. Of course. This wasn’t just a celebration of the new year, but of the new millennium. He had heard murmurs of the world ending tonight, even in the wizarding world. Most sensible people paid them no mind; surely if the world were about to end, somebody would have Seen it. But numbers have power. The Muggles certainly knew that, even if they didn’t have training in Arithmancy as Draco had. And round numbers, especially multiples of ten, with their connotations of rebirth, and their reflection of our own fingers and toes, resonate more than any others. Yes, it made sense that the Muggles, who didn’t know any better, might latch onto the date as the end of the world.

Draco was jerked from his reverie as one of the bearded faces appeared inches from his own. The man was so close that Draco could see his pores, could smell his fetid breath. “The end is here, young man. Is your soul prepared?”

Draco gaped. Was his soul prepared? If the world ended tonight after all, what would become of him? He had done some unforgivable things during the war, things that made him shudder now, things that he dearly regretted. His only consolation was that he had never actually killed anybody. He had spent the last year and a half trying to make up for what he had done, and for what he had almost done. Would his efforts be enough? Or would he be damned anyway?

“Time is short, but it hasn’t run out yet,” the man told Draco. “You must repent, and commit yourself to the Lord, before it is too late!”

Draco snorted, suddenly no longer interested in what the madman had to say. It was committing himself to a different Lord that had gotten him into trouble in the first place. What was to say God would be any different? He would take his chances.

Sensing Draco’s mood shift, the old man moved on to the next person, the next soul to save. Draco turned away from the proselytizer only to fall into the hands of another one.

“Are you going to join us?” Draco looked down to see a small, dark-haired woman clutching his arm. She was wearing a large, crinkly, metallic something on her chest. “Are you going to come?” she repeated. “You should, you know.”

“Come where?” Draco asked, looking at the strange woman in confusion.

“To the planet Xebeth, of course,” she answered with an even voice. “At midnight, the Xebethites will arrive in their spaceship to take us with them to their planet, a tropical paradise that has never known war or strife.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, which was all the encouragement the little woman needed. “They are a benevolent race, you know, always trying to help those from less fortunate planets. We’ve been in contact with them for years now, and finally they are going to come for us. They can’t take everyone, of course, only a few of the chosen. But there is still room. Come, let’s get you a uniform. That’s how they will know who to take with them.”

The woman’s grip on Draco’s arm tightened, as she tried to pull him towards a group of seven or eight others dressed in the same strange metallic things. Draco stood his ground. “Really,” the woman said, starting to get agitated, pulling on Draco’s arm with surprising strength. “You must come now. There isn’t much time!”

“I don’t think so,” Draco said, but the woman only pulled harder. Draco was beginning to worry when he heard someone calling his name.

“Draco! There you are!” a woman said with relief from behind him. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

Draco’s heart lurched as he turned, dreading to see Astoria behind him. Instead, a different woman entirely approached and took his other arm. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but you really need to come see this!” With that, she started pulling him away from the metal-clad group. The small woman must have been as startled as Draco, because she released her grip, allowing Draco to escape.

Draco followed the new woman obediently, if only as an excuse to get away from the alien-obsessed madwoman. He recognized her, of course. She had been a year behind him at Hogwarts. She had been in Gryffindor, though, so their paths had rarely crossed. More recently, her face had graced the papers regularly, ever since she had left school and took the professional Quidditch world by storm. Knowing who she was, however, gave Draco no idea why Ginny Weasley would be leading him by the arm through a crowd of Muggles on New Year’s Eve.

After a few minutes, Ginny came to an abrupt halt, almost causing Draco to step on her feet. She had brought him to a quieter part of the crowd, right up against the wall of the embankment. “There you go,” she said with a smile, then turned as it to leave.

“Weasley, wait,” Draco said. She turned and looked at him expectantly. “What was that about?” he asked.

“Oh,” Ginny answered with a shrug. “You just looked as if you needed to be rescued.” She grinned mischievously, and added, “Of course, if you really were planning to go to the planet Xebeth with those people, you can always go back there.”

Draco let out a guffaw of laughter. “Oh yes,” he said. “I’m just dying to wear one of those metallic things.”

“I thought so,” Ginny said, nodding with mock seriousness. “It would bring out your eyes.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?” Draco mused, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Do you think Madame Malkin would consider making robes for me out of that material?”

“For the great Draco Malfoy, anything!” Ginny said, laughing.

Draco’s face fell. Since the end of the war, even the Malfoy millions hadn’t been able to buy the kind of service he had been accustomed to before. Much of the wizarding world had been rightfully suspicious, and he had gotten a cold shoulder more often than not. And with the way he had treated the Weasleys in school, he was sure Ginny should feel the same way. “Seriously, Weasley,” he asked, “why would you feel the need to rescue me? I would have thought you would be more likely to laugh at my predicament than help me.”

“Well,” Ginny said with a wide grin, “I didn’t rescue you quite as soon as I could have. It was really very amusing. You do seem to attract all of the crazy sorts.”

“Does that include you?” Draco asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Perhaps,” Ginny answered with a smile. “I guess you’ll just have to decide whether or not I pulled you out of the frying pan and into the fire. Though I suggest that next time you venture into Muggle London, you dress a little more appropriately. It might keep the wackos from thinking they’ve found a kindred spirit in you.”

Draco looked down at his dress robes, then at Ginny’s Muggle attire, and saw her point. “It’s not as if I planned this,” he said.

“No, I imagine not,” Ginny said. “You escaped from the Daughters of Morgaine Ball, I expect?”

Draco looked up at her, startled. “How did you know?” he asked.

“It wasn’t difficult to deduce,” Ginny said, laughing. “First, you’re wearing the most elaborate dress robes I have ever seen, and secondly, I found you less than a quarter mile from the Saint Julian Hotel.”

If Malfoys blushed, Draco would have done so then. “Oh,” he said awkwardly. Rushing to change the subject, he added, “So what are you doing here, then?”

“I’m here to celebrate the New Year like everyone else,” Ginny said guilelessly.

“With the Muggles?” Draco asked.

“Why not?” Ginny said, shrugging her shoulders. “They’re amusing.”

Draco glowered, remembering the last two Muggles who had spoken to him. “They’re not amusing. They’re annoying as hell. And before you jump to conclusions, I am not saying that out of some preconceived prejudice, but from actual experience.”

Ginny smiled. “Well, I can’t say your experience here tonight was typical. But it was better than whatever you were running away from, wasn’t it?”

“I wasn’t running away,” Draco bit out, angry that she could see through him so easily.

“Of course,” Ginny said with a slight smirk. “That’s why you’re out here in the cold, without a proper cloak, hobnobbing with Muggles and Weasleys, rather than dancing the night away with your girlfriend in a nice warm ballroom.”

“Speaking of girlfriends,” Draco added, once again trying to drive the conversation away from himself, “where’s Potter?”

“I have no idea,” Ginny answered evenly. “He’s probably in his flat with Ron and Hermione. That’s where he is most evenings these days.”

“What, he’s not with you? I thought you were dating.”

“We were,” Ginny said simply. “We broke up six months ago.”

“What?” Draco asked, dumbfounded. Theirs was supposed to be the romance of the century. The Prophet had done a whole spread on them when they started dating, shortly after Potter defeated Voldemort. He was sure they would have jumped all over a break-up. Perhaps Potter had enough pull to keep them quiet; such things weren’t unheard of. But still. He had thought Ginny was head-over-heels for the git, but now she was acting as calm as anything. “I thought you were supposed to be a match made in heaven or something.”

Ginny giggled. “That’s a bit over the top, don’t you think? And do you really suggest I should keep dating someone just because the whole wizarding world expects me to?”

“Do you mean to say that you were the one to break things off, not Potter? After the singing Valentine and everything?”

Ginny blushed. “Yes, well, I was very young when I sent that Valentine, you know. And it turns out that a childhood crush based on hero worship isn’t the best basis for a relationship.”

“I could have told you that years ago,” Draco said.

“You probably did,” Ginny said wryly. “But I wouldn’t have listened. My head was full of fairytale endings and rot like that. By the time I finished school, I realized that Harry wasn’t quite what I had imagined him to be.”

Draco refrained from telling her “I told you so,” again, and instead focused on the other issue. “But if the press finds out, they’re sure to make you out to be worse than a whore for breaking poor Harry’s heart.”

“Yes, I know,” Ginny answered, “but I’m willing to pay the price. Anyway, the press can’t be nearly as bad as my mother.”

“Your mother?” Draco asked, confused.

“She had my life all planned out for me. After Hogwarts, I would begin training as a Healer, and marry Harry within a year. I could keep working until the children came, but then I would stay home with them, as she had before me. She went ballistic when I told her that not only had I broken up with Harry, I was also going to play professional Quidditch.” Her face lit up in a beautiful smile. “It was one of the best moments of my life!”

“You enjoyed making your mother angry?” Draco asked incredulously.

Ginny nodded. “I have a combative nature; my whole family does. It comes with the red hair.” She paused, then added quietly, “I didn’t really have a choice, though. It was either that or live my life the way she expected me to. I would never have been happy if I had done that.”

There was a long pause as Draco leaned against the wall, looking out across the river, watching the lights on the other side blink on and off, and thinking about his own situation. It had never occurred to him before, but he was doing the same thing Ginny had escaped. Over the past year and a half, he had let his mother guide everything he did, relying on her to know the best way to redeem the Malfoy name. But was he happy? He only needed to think of the ball he had fled tonight to know the answer.

“Why are you here, Draco?” Ginny asked quietly.

Draco took a deep breath. He could easily dodge the question—he was used to doing that, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to now. Maybe Ginny would understand in a way nobody else could. “I was supposed to propose tonight,” he whispered.

“To Astoria Greengrass?” Ginny asked. Draco wasn’t surprised that she knew he was dating Astoria; there had been many pictures of them together recently in the Society pages of the Prophet.

“Yes,” he answered. “I was to do it right after midnight, after the traditional kiss. My mother said it would be romantic.”

“It would have been,” Ginny affirmed.

“I guess I’m not going to do it now.”

“No, I suppose not,” Ginny said, looking at her watch, “unless you Apparate back to the hotel right away, and apologize profusely for your absence. There’s not much longer until midnight.”

“I won’t be able to smooth things over tonight. Maybe not at all,” Draco said, still staring across the water. “I’m not sure I want to, anyway.”

“You weren’t happy,” Ginny said. It wasn’t a question.

Draco shrugged one shoulder. “I wasn’t unhappy either. I didn’t feel anything at all. My mother likes Astoria, and thought it would be a good match. Her family wasn’t involved with the Death Eaters, so the association would have reflected well on our family. She’s pretty enough, and not annoying like Daphne can be, so I went along with it. But then tonight… Tonight, I snapped. I just couldn’t take it anymore. That’s why I’m here.”

“I see,” Ginny said sympathetically, reaching out to briefly touch Draco’s arm. “Then it’s probably best that you not go back tonight. You’ll need your strength when you see your mother next.”

“I guess I will,” Draco said. He turned once again to look out over the dark water, contemplating the decision he had just made. Ever since he had left the ballroom, he had been avoiding the conclusion he knew was inevitable, but it had taken Ginny Weasley, of all people, to help him put it into words. As he stood there, he became more and more certain that breaking things off with Astoria was the right thing to do.

As the clock struck twelve and the crowd shouted, “Happy New Year!”, Draco realized just how far he had come in only a few hours. He should have been with Astoria at this moment, proposing marriage, but instead he was here, in a crowd of Muggles, with a Weasley. He felt like laughing out loud. Looking around, Draco noticed couples all around them indulging in the traditional New Year’s kiss. He turned to Ginny, raising a questioning eyebrow. She smiled and shrugged.

The kiss was brief, but it was anything but perfunctory. When Draco pulled away a moment later, he had to blink a few times to assure himself that there really were fireworks exploding over the river, and not just in his head. From the glazed look in Ginny’s eyes, he thought she might be just as dazed as he was, but he didn’t say a thing. Instead, he turned away to watch the fireworks and hoped that she hadn’t noticed his own reaction.

As the last of the fireworks faded from the sky, Ginny turned to Draco. “Well, this evening has been nothing like I expected.”

Draco smiled. “Yes, I think ‘unexpected’ is the understatement of the year.”

“Or perhaps the millennium?” Ginny asked, grinning.

“Which millennium?” Draco asked. “This one or the last?”

“The last, of course,” Ginny answered. “I have a feeling this one will have quite a few surprises in store for us, don’t you?”

Draco felt something like a shiver at the implication. “Perhaps,” he said, “but maybe the surprises will be more for our families and friends than for the two of us.”

“You may be right,” Ginny said with a soft smile. “But I’m afraid those surprises will have to be put on hold for now. I ought to get home; I have training in the afternoon.”

Draco smiled in return and offered his arm. “I’ll walk with you until we can find a place to Apparate,” he said.

“I’d like that,” Ginny responded, taking his arm.

They walked through the waning crowd in a comfortable silence. Draco looked around at the Muggles indulgently. With a couple of exceptions, they really weren’t all that bad. Perhaps he would venture out into the Muggle world more often in the future.

Ginny squeezed his arm, and Draco turned to look in the direction she indicated. The small woman with the metallic clothing was sitting on a bench, staring dejectedly at her trainers. Apparently the Xebethites hadn’t arrived after all. Draco felt an unaccustomed pang of sympathy for her, even as he turned away.

Not far away, Draco saw one of the proselytizers’ signs on the ground, trampled and dirty. It read, “The end has come! Are you ready?” The new millennium had not brought the end of the world any more than it had brought the Xebethites, but it had brought endings, Draco mused. His life would never be the same again. But this night was not only an ending, but a beginning, a fresh start. He looked down at Ginny, walking quietly beside him, and smiled. This time Draco had no doubt: he was ready.