She comes to me when I'm feelin' down
Inspires me without a sound
She touches me and I get turned around
She's got a smile that heals me

She’s Got a Way, Billy Joel

*****

I don’t like to talk about my feelings. It makes me uncomfortable; turns me into someone full of emotion and empathy, and that’s just not me. I don’t like to talk about my past, either. I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, that I wish I’d never done, and talking about those things makes conversations far too serious for me to handle. Years have gone by since the War, and I really don’t need constant reminders of my biggest mistakes to come up every time I speak with someone. As a person, I’ve grown, whether people choose to believe it or not.

But there’s this girl that I know, and I’ve known her for years. The thing is, I’d never paid too much attention to her when we were in school. She was on the opposite side – the good side – and she was a year below me. I knew who she was, of course. Everybody did. She stands out in a crowd, so much so that it’s annoying. When I was at school, she was anything but important to me.

I saw her once in Diagon Alley. It was my birthday, and I’d just turned twenty-four. I knew who she was as soon as we crossed paths. Her garish red hair, her freckles, her brown eyes. I don’t know why, but I was surprised when I saw her. Maybe I was more surprised that she was alone, not with one of her thousand brothers, or maybe I was most surprised that she smiled at me. We made eye contact, and she smiled. It’s not as though I had any intention of seeking her approval; the day I longed for a Weasley to give me the time of day will be a cold day in Hell, but there was something about that smile. There was something about her.

She stopped in front of me, waving at me cheerfully. “’Lo, Malfoy,” she said, smiling at me so brightly that it almost made me uncomfortable, “how’ve you been?”

“Fine, Weasley,” I answered. I tried to sound as though I didn’t really want to be bothered with talking to her; I wanted to crack her, break her down, and make her stop smiling at me, but she didn’t. She looked almost happy to see me, and it threw me. I didn’t know how to talk to her. I don’t know how to talk to anyone who is pleased to see me.

“Good,” she said, her smile never wavering. “I’m glad that you’re doing well.”

I shrugged at this. “Why?” I asked her. It came out a bit more rudely than I had really meant it to, but I was curious. Why did she care how I was doing? We’re not friends.

I saw a flash in her expression; she faltered slightly as she searched for a response. “Well, I just am,” she said. I could tell that she looked a bit disappointed that I had asked. For the briefest of moments, Weasley looked hurt. The look faded and her bright smile returned. “Well, I’m off. It was nice seeing you.”

She tried to go past me, but I reached out a hand to grasp her wrist. I pulled her back in front of me. “Why?” I asked her. “Why are you being so nice to me, Weasley? Don’t you know who I am? What I’ve done?” The way I questioned her was probably the most open and honest I’d ever spoken to the girl. I’m normally more reserved and I’ve trained myself to hold everything back from people. What I should have asked her was, Why do I care what you think?

Weasley smiled at me knowingly. “I’m being nice because, well, I’m a nice person,” she responded cheekily. “And, I called you Malfoy, didn’t I? Obviously I know who you are.” She paused, grinning malevolently. “What else was there?”

I knew she was being smart, so I glared at her. “You know what I asked, Weasley.”

“Oh, right,” she said, feigning a look of realization. She tapped me on the forehead playfully. “Of course I know what you’ve done, Malfoy. Everybody knows.”

“So what makes you different, Weasley? What makes you special?”

I expected her to roll her eyes and say something… Gryffindor, but she surprised me. She said, “I’m special because I got over it. The War, what Voldemort did, even what your father did to me during my first year at Hogwarts. I lost my brother, you know, and I lost friends. I’m not going to lose myself, too.” She paused, nibbling at her bottom lip. “Maybe you should do what I’ve done. Maybe you’ll be happier for it.”

For some reason, what she said made me uneasy. “Do you think you’re brave or noble because you can forgive people?” I asked. “Maybe you’re just a naïve, stupid little girl.” I was trying to provoke her, but I don’t know why.

She didn’t get upset. She smiled. “Maybe I am stupid and naïve, and you could probably throw in a few other choice words to describe me if you wanted to. It doesn’t matter to me, Draco. I’d rather be the way I am and enjoy my life, than be cold and cynical like you.”

What surprised me the most was that I couldn’t disagree. She’d insulted me, and I couldn’t tell her that she was wrong. I was too shocked that she’d called me by my first name, too stunned that she’d had the audacity to stand up to me. She wasn’t the timid little girl that I thought she was. She was strong and confident and good. Oh, she was good.

“It really was nice to see you,” she said, giving my arm a gentle squeeze. “I hope that the next time we see each other you will be able to say the same for me.”

I don’t know what it is about her. I’m not sure if it’s because she wasn’t intimidated by me, or if it’s because I thought she was pretty, but I didn’t want her to go. I wanted to keep on talking to her, to say something that would make her smile at me again. There was just something about that smile that made me want to smile.

“Hey, Ginny!” I called. She stopped abruptly, turning around to face me, and I jogged after her. “Weasley, I want you to go out with me.”

“Say my name again,” she said quietly.

“Weas-” I stopped. That wasn’t what she meant. “Ginny, would you like to go out with me?”

She smiled at me. I think what I love most about her smile is that I could tell it was sincere just by looking at her. Her whole face lit up. She looked like she felt as though nothing bad could happen to her. It made me feel better to see that there were people in the world who were happy. It was like a goal for me; something to aspire to. I wanted, in that moment, to feel the way that Ginny felt. I wanted to smile, to have my whole world feel at ease. I wanted to break free of the guilt that I felt.

I wanted to move on.

“I’d love to go out with you, Draco,” she said sweetly.

I reached out for her hand, and she smiled once more as she put her hand in mine. Together, we walked through the Alley, talking and laughing. Every chance I got, I said something that I hoped would make her smile or make her laugh. It was infectious, and I never wanted her to do anything but be happy.

All it took was her smile.