I’m worn out from trying

From loving a man who always makes it clear

I’m not welcome here

--Stronger Woman

“It’s not easy, loving you,” Ginny says, and she means it. Draco snorts, palming her arm, pulling her along with him as he walks – not quite rough, but not quite gentle, either. It’s still the closest sign he’ll ever give that he wants her to accompany him, though, and she wonders where he wants to take her, and why.

“And I’m supposed to care?” he asks. “Since when have I ever wanted you to love me?”

Ginny smiles gently, and follows along. “I know,” she sighs, softly, and if Draco had tried to listen to her voice, leaned closer and listened, he would have heard her add, “And that’s exactly why.”

--

Well our hearts are locked inside an iron box

We’re both too afraid to reveal our most tender parts, oh

--I Do

Sometimes she wishes that she could just conquer this fear inside of her. Wishes she could look him straight in the eye and speak her heart, tell him about her first year, about always being the baby, about needing to break free and be herself, about the darkness that still sometimes courses through her veins and frightens her, about how her heart strains as though it will burst when she sees him, about how sometimes she watches him breathe and wants to cry because it’s all too much, so fast and so strong.

But she can’t.

She just can’t open herself up to it, can’t quite trust him enough, can’t let her heart out to be stomped on so easily. If only he would just trust her first, she is sure she could be strong enough to return the sentiment. She is positive that then she would be able to really love him and to tell him.

But he doesn’t, and so she can’t.

Draco is just as afraid as she is, Ginny knows this, and she can only imagine what secret wounds he’s hiding. Can only imagine, and wait, and hope that one day he’ll be brave enough to show them to her, because Gryffindor or not, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be brave enough to be the first to open up.

--

‘Cause we were just children

Following a feeling

Not knowing love could wither away

--Love Is A Garden

Ginny remembers those days, the arguments and make-up sessions, the defiance and how they were sure that nothing in the world would tear them apart. They had been defiant, and strong, and self-absorbed, and just children, and they had never known.

It was too simple, too early, and if only they could go back, it still would fail, because it has to happen now. That’s why she’s here now, today, to talk to him, to get it back – that shivery, giddy feeling, that top-of-the-world craziness that they lost so quickly.

They just didn’t fight hard enough. They thought they were strong, but the world was against them, and they quailed under the weight of it. Taking it out on each-other, shouting, storming into different rooms, Ginny sleeping over at Harry’s to get away, sparking even more arguments – they were just children, only seventeen and just out of school, naïve despite the war, lost and unaware of how much work they had to do.

It wasn’t really their fault, Ginny knows, and maybe breaking up was even necessary for her – for them both – to understand, to grow. But that time has passed. She knows now what has to be done, and she has to do it. Love might be difficult, but it’s worth it, and she misses it so badly.

That’s why she’s here, waiting for him to come home. Ready to fight again.

--

She let him in, he lifted up her dress

Like an apology, he kissed her neck

And he felt much relieved

As the ceiling fan tapped out a broken melody

--Rosey And Mick

“I’m bad for you,” he muttered into her skin, voice hoarse and cracking, “God help me, I’m so horrible for you.”

Ginny bit her lips, felt the tears in the corners of her eyes, and let him finish undressing her. His mouth, open and wet, pressed fervently on her collarbone, as if worshiping her, begging forgiveness.

It hurt, hurt deep inside in a cracked, empty place in her chest, and she put her hands on his cheeks, pulling him up to kiss her mouth instead. Hard, she pressed against him, slamming him back up the door, pressing desperately forward, trying to drive the feeling out of the room – but when she pulled her mouth back, everything slowed and cooled, and Draco looked down at her, shaking his head.

“You’re too good for this,” he said, and then kissed her again anyway, the fire returning again. He was desperate, needy, and Ginny loved him, despite it all, and needed this as much as he did, and responded like she always did, no matter what.

They never said the words, and this happened often, and these days, even those moments of bliss with him – like this moment, falling through the door, tangling into sheets, just them, so short and right and here and nothing else – were fleeting. The empty feeling crept back up so swiftly after, and Ginny knew that they were reaching a climax.

She was going to break, soon.

--

I’d like to fall into your arms

With all your charms

But we both know how that would end

It would end with me crying

And you leaving again

--Anyone But You

Oh, god, she didn’t want this. She couldn’t, she shouldn’t, it was wrong and hurtful, and-

And his fingers were stroking her arm, his smile enigmatic and knowing, more of a smirk really, his eyes piercing as ever. His aura was intoxicating, his presence drawing her in like nothing else, even his scent making her want to sway closer and figure out just what it was.

His voice, a deep baritone, was rolling over her like a wave, overpowering her senses, a siren song luring her in. His dark suit, perfectly pressed, just needed color, and she knew she, in her red dress, would look splendid on his arm. They had always looked beautiful together, not that there was anyone to know of this.

It was that thought that brought her back from the edge, and Ginny returned to herself, jerking back abruptly. She had moved so close to him, her lips were almost under his. When she moved back, she was horrified to realize her eyes had been drifting shut, and his hand, at first just fingers on her arm, had spread out over her bare back, warm on her skin.

Horrified, she glared at him, and spat out, “Don’t you ever try that again. It will never happen.”

One side of his lips quirked, clearly amused, and the unspoken word hung in the air with them, laden with her perfume and his hand, easily returning to his side – again.

“Of course,” Draco said, all kindness, and bowed smoothly. “Perhaps another time.”

And then he withdrew, leaving her gaping and flushed, Luna eying her in confusion.

“What’s wrong with you? He just wanted a dance.”

--

I swear, I hear the language of your heart

And it says, “Thump thump

Let’s jump

Let’s fall in love”

--Thump Thump

“Weasley… what are you doing?”

Ginny smiled. Draco looked so… befuddled, staring down at her, hands in the air like he didn’t know what to do with them. What, had he never cuddled before?

On second thought – he probably hadn’t. She laughed slightly, and angled her head more comfortably on his chest, closing her eyes.

“Relax,” she murmured, “And turn off the lights.”

--

Don’t move, this mood is a painting

We’ll never find the same thing

--Two Become One

Ginny stared down at Draco in the moonlight, hardly daring to believe that it had really happened. He had told her – had said the words – and she, too, – and they had just let go – and now here she was, watching him sleep, and it was beautiful.

The air was still, the moment was silent and magical. They were here, together, and things were perfect, if only for this moment. Outside, a war raged on, but not here, not now. Here, now, there were no distractions, no worries, no disapproving family members – just the two of them, in a moment of fleeting beauty.

She gently lifted his arm, and folded it over her. Melting against his chest, she closed her eyes – not tired, just breathing it all in, before the moment was lost.

--

Oh, you could be a stranger

It’s been that long

There’s something ‘bout the danger of feeling

Like we’re doing something wrong

--Till It Feels Like Cheating

“What – Ginny?” Draco is astonished, and she smirks and locks the door behind her. “How did you get in here – what are you – it’s been two years.”

“Three,” she corrects, and straddles him, leaning down to kiss him hard. “And your wife’s flight arrives in two hours – do you really want to waste that time asking me pointless questions?”

He blinks, checks his watch, and then looks at her, a man in a loveless marriage torn in quandary of ethics. Ginny blushes, and uncorks the wine.

“No – ” he says quickly, like she’ll leave otherwise, and takes it from her, swallowing for several moments.

“No,” again, breathless, and then he sets the bottle down on the table, and winds his fingers wonderingly in her hair, drawing her face down to his. “No questions, Ginny.”

--

And I have this hole in my chest

I guess you know me good enough that you know all the rest

--Everything Reminds Me Of You

“Spend the night with me,” Ginny says suddenly, eyes bright.

Draco folds the last of his clothes away and puts them in the last box before he answers. “You know – I’m leaving, for good. This is over, not a break. We – ”

“I know,” she says, halting him. “I know that. But it just…”

Ginny looks down, flushing, hands hugging herself, and takes several seconds to control herself. She knows, and she’s going to be okay. She’s going to be okay.

“Just one more night,” she whispers, “to make it easier.”

Draco swallows, and she can see the burden she’s just put on him – he is okay, he’s fine and she’s not, not yet. But she can’t – can’t care, she needs him, needs this just one more time, please –

“Alright,” he says quietly, and stands, lifting the box. “This is the last of it. Let me just put it in the kitchen with the rest.”

--

You may call me foolish

A child

You know it’ll be true

But I don’t want to be loved

By anybody but you

--Loved By You (Cowboy Waltz)

The last time he saw her, he kissed her and called her a foolish little girl.

He’s right, and he’s married, and she went to the wedding and sat in the back, and took his kiss and words with equilibrium. It had been after their one dance, when he drew her aside. They sat in the hallway, him in his black suit and her in her white dress, and it was hot and her heel made a black mark on the shiny floor when she lowered herself to sit. He watched her for long, long moments, and then told her that Harry Potter liked her.

“Much as I hate to admit it, he’s not all that bad of a guy, and he’d be good for you.”

Ginny had laughed, shaken her head. “You know I won’t date him. And you know why.”

Draco’s face flushed, and he glared at her. “You’re a foolish little girl, Ginny,” he snarled, trying to restrain himself. “You know I’m never going to – this is my wedding – you need to stop clinging to hopeless dreams and grow up!”

She agreed, meeting his eyes and grinning all the while, sanguine. And then she stood up, and said, “But it doesn’t matter. I still love you.”

She walked away from him before he could answer, and did not cry, or dance the rest of the night.

--

Your legs seem to tremble

At least I imagine that they do

Then again, it’s probably easy for you

--Perfectly Clear

And with predictable nonchalance, he says it: “Goodbye, Ginny.”

She breaks, half-speaks, stops – stands back and watches him. It has to matter, he has to care – but he’s the picture of carefree, and it hurts.

She looks away, and doesn’t say anything, and then it gets awkward.

“Look – Weasley, it wasn’t because… I didn’t, I mean – ” For possibly the first time in his life, Draco stumbles over his words, and Ginny reflects that it means he really does love her.

“Shut up and go, Draco,” she says, but it’s with a smile now, because she gets it, all of a sudden. It’s not pleasant, but it’s real, and finally she sees what Draco has, all along.

“It’s perfectly clear.”