. . . . . .
Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of me door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul.
- Elizabeth Barret Browning
. . . . . .
The first thing that Ginny saw when she awoke was a framed picture of a two-toed Tafettigos. Her first impression had been that it was a very lifelike painting, but she’d spent a great deal of the last two days in the room with the thing, and she was beginning to get an uneasy feeling that the very lifelike painting was actually a very real photograph. When she awoke on the third morning, looked at the Tafettigos, and found herself wondering just how Luna had managed to catch the thing on camera, she knew that it was time to get out of the apartment.
She’d been staying with Luna since she’d left Draco. While she’d been packing she’d intended to go to her parents, and indeed had Apparated to just outside the Burrow, but then as she’d stood there looking at the warmly lit windows of her childhood home she’d realized that she simply didn’t have it in her to walk in and tell her parents that she’d left her husband. It wasn’t that they would hold it against her that she’d walked out on Draco; what she feared is that her mother would inevitably want to have a heart-to-heart with her daughter, “just between us girls,” about what had happened, and Ginny knew that when Molly came to have this talk, sitting on the edge of her bed and smoothing down Ginny’s hair as she’d done when Ginny was young, then the floodgates would open and Ginny would pour out the whole story, beginning with the oath and ending with Draco’s celebratory drinks at the Leaky Cauldron.
And then, Ginny feared, her mother would be disappointed in her. Truth be known, she was a little disappointed in herself. When she’d agreed to marry Draco, the oath and their agreement hadn’t seemed that strange. Now that she could step back and examine the last few months, however, she could see what a bizarre situation it was that she’d gotten in, and she wasn’t sure her mother would approve. Oh, she’d be forgiving, of course, as would Arthur, but she was afraid they’d think that she was lacking in good sense, that she’d made a big mistake. And while she knew that she had to tell them eventually, she couldn’t face it so soon after leaving Draco. So after lingering a few moments outside the Burrow, she’d Apparated to Luna’s apartment.
Luna had taken her in immediately, not asking any questions until Ginny was settled in the guest bedroom of her spacious apartment near Hyde Park. Then she’d appeared in the doorway with a cup of Ginny’s favorite tea. The two friends had situated themselves on the bed, and only when she saw that Ginny was comfortable and calm did she speak. “So, what happened?”
Ginny had told her the truth- that she’d left her husband- but omitted the details. Luna had taken it easily and calmly, asking only one question: “Is it irreperable? I mean, I see Draco often in working for The Quibbler. Is there anything I can say to him for you?”
“Don’t say a word,” Ginny had begged. “Don’t even tell him I’m here with you. Please?”
Luna had agreed and that had been the end of their conversation.
The next two days had passed in quiet solitude for Ginny. Each morning she woke up too late to see Luna before she went to the newspaper office. She’d already written to Glennis about not coming into work, so she spent the day slouching around Luna’s apartment, dressed in her pajamas and wrapped in a quilt, alternately crying on the bed or staring out the window at the spacious Muggle synagogue down the street. Plenty of people passed by beneath the window, but until Luna came home in the evenings, Ginny had no human contact at all.
This surprised her a little. She hadn’t told anyone where she was going, and she’d told Luna to keep her whereabouts secret from even the Weasleys- at least, until she was feeling up to facing them- but still, somehow she’d expected that people would find out she was there and would come to comfort her and tell her that she did not need a man to complete her. But apparently Luna had taken the instructions to heart, and Ginny spent her days entirely alone.
She liked being alone, because she didn’t have to hide her emotions, but she disliked it because it gave her too much time with her thoughts. But the thoughts came, no matter how she fought it, so she very carefully thought about her family and her friends and her work and anything that wasn’t connected to Draco. Most of the time it worked.
It was on the morning of the third day at Luna’s that Ginny decided it was time to change out of her pajamas and get out into the world. She awoke early and looked at the clock: it was nearly nine. She knew that as it was Saturday, Luna wouldn’t be rising until later, so she allowed herself a few moments to lounge in the very comfortable bed. As she lay there, inert, her thoughts began wandering and before she could stop them they were back where they’d been trying to get for days: Draco. Where was he? What was he doing right then? Did he miss her? What had he thought to come home and find her gone? Was he glad to be rid of her? Or did he sometimes wander into her room at night, think of the girl who used to live there, and smile fondly?
She missed him so terribly that there was a dull ache in her chest, all the time. More than once, she’d drawn her wand, ready to Apparate to the Manor and beg him to let her come home, but then fear had stopped her. After all, if he’d really wanted her back, he would have found her, right? It couldn’t be that hard to locate her; if he was going down a list of her friends, Luna would be near the top. So clearly he wasn’t trying to find her.
She bit her lip and stared at the ceiling. Who’d have guessed that love would be such a terrible thing? She’d never really been in love before, and she’d always expected that when it happened, it would be . . . different than this. She’d thought things would be easier. Instead things had been difficult and painful and she had nothing to show for it, not love, not Draco, not even the fifty thousand Galleons she’d been so sure she wanted at the beginning of the marriage. She’d remembered suddenly on Thursday that parts of the oath she’d forced Draco to make were unfulfilled- most notably, that he was supposed to pay her fifty thousand Galleons at the end of their marriage. He would start feeling ill soon if he didn’t pay her, so she’d pulled out her wand and revoked the entire oath, hoping all the while that Draco would forget. His paying her for performing her role in their marriage would cheapen everything they had together.
She heard Luna stirring in the other room, so she forced herself out of bed and changed into real clothes, unable to resist the urge to choose a shirt that Draco had once told her he liked. After checking her appearance in the mirror, she went out into the kitchen.
Luna didn’t look surprised to see her up and dressed. With a wave of her wand she conjured a plate for Ginny, bangers and mash and a Welsh rarebit- Ginny had long since gotten used to Luna’s bizarre breakfasts- and motioned for her to sit down. “You missed a lot the last few days,” her friend said. “German Aurors foiled a plot to kidnap their minister of foreign relations and replace him with a shape-shifting pigeon.”
“You don’t say,” Ginny responded, poking half-heartedly at her potatoes. She hadn’t felt much like eating in the last few days.
Luna prattled on for a few more minutes while Ginny nodded politely. Then a silence fell in which Ginny, finished with what little food she was going to eat, stood. “Wait a moment,” Luna requested. “Please, sit.” Ginny sat, fairly sure she knew what was coming.
And it was. “How are you feeling?” Luna asked, looking at her with those big, earnest eyes. “The truth, if you please.”
She didn’t want to tell her the truth, because that meant examining that part of her that had hidden, wounded, deep in her heart for the last few days. But this was Luna, so she answered honestly, if somewhat hesitantly. “It hurts,” she said softly. “Sometimes I think about the rest of my life without him in it and I don’t even want to try to live it.”
“Then why did you leave?” Luna said, matter-of-fact but not unkind.
Ginny covered her face her with her hands. “He doesn’t love me,” she said, her voice muffled. “I thought- but now I know.” Oh, Merlin, she was going to cry again.
“He told you this?”
Behind her hands, Ginny winced. “No. But I could see it in his actions.”
“Is it possible you misread him?”
“I think I know my own husband,” Ginny said firmly, hoping Luna would end her questioning.
But she was persistent. “But it’s possible.”
Ginny rested her forehead on her hand. “I don’t know.”
Luna reached across the table and patted Ginny’s free hand. “Maybe you should talk to him,” she said kindly. “Good communication bridges gaps between people and reminds us all that we’re not alone in this world.”
Ginny looked up at her friend. “Luna, that was beautiful.”
Luna smiled. “Thanks. We’re considering it as the new slogan forT he Quibbler.”
Ginny was just standing again when a knock came at the door. She froze and felt her heart pounding in her ears. Let it be Draco, she begged silently. Let it be Draco looking for me. With a wave of her wand Luna cleared the breakfast dishes and opened the door, seemingly unaware of Ginny’s discomfort.
It was not Draco on the other side. “Hermione!” Luna greeted, moving aside so her guest could come in. “Good to see you!”
The two friends came into the living room, laughing and talking. Despite Hermione’s low opinion of Luna’s newspaper work, the two girls had become great friends during their work in the Order. “I just wanted to stop by and get your opinion on flowers for the wedding. Do you have any Floo powder? I was thinking of asking Ginny to come by.”
“No need for that, Herm,” Ginny said, coming out of the kitchen.
“Ginny!” Hermione said in delight, though her smile faltered as she saw Ginny’s forlorn expression. “What are you doing here?”
Ginny took a seat in the living room and the other two women followed suit. “Well,” Ginny said stoicly, figuring that it had to come out sooner or later, “I left Draco.”
She’d known that Hermione would be surprised, but she hadn’t expected her to gasp, her hands over her mouth. “No! Really, Ginny?” When Ginny nodded to say that yes, it was true, Hermione leaned back in her chair, frowning. “You were always a strange couple, but I really thought you two would make it. You seemed so happy together.”
Every word was like a punch in the gut to Ginny. She wanted nothing more than to cry, to pour out the whole story to Hermione and Luna, oath and all. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it, so she simply smiled sadly. “I think this is for the best,” she lied. “Don’t worry about me, Herm. I’ll be all right.”
And she didn’t cry, not at any point in the short visit. Hermione left quickly after hearing Ginny’s news; Ginny was sure she had tactfully decided that wedding flowers oughtn’t be discussed with a woman whose marriage was falling apart.
Her early departure was a blessing to Ginny, who didn’t want to talk about leaving Draco anymore. She supposed it couldn’t be avoided, though, as she’d reluctantly given Hermione permission to tell the Weasleys what had happened, and she was sure they would descend on her soon. With that in mind, she decided to get out of the apartment and stretch her legs; it’d be harder for her family to find her.
So after telling Luna goodbye, Ginny Apparated to Diagon Alley. She wanted to stop by work later, but she also wanted a few moments to herself, and there was no better place for anonymity than crowded Diagon Alley on a Saturday. She strolled past shop windows, losing herself in the sounds of the crowd. It was very soothing to get out of her head for a while, and she was just beginning to think that she might stay there all day when she heard her name being called.
It was Ron, standing on the other side of the street, the expression on his face strange and unreadable. She was sure that he knew, however- he was the first one that Hermione would have told- and she braced herself for an onslaught of “I told you so” and “You can’t trust a Malfoy.”
Instead, to her great surprise, he silently crossed the street, pushing his way through the thronging crowd, and drew his baby sister into a hug. Shocked but not so surprised that she’d miss the rare chance to be comforted by her brother, she hugged him back. “I’m so sorry, Gin,” he said, and on hearing him use her childhood nickname, one that Draco had also recently taken to using, she nearly began to cry.
She managed to fight back her tears and simply responded, “Thank you.”
Her brother pulled away and looked at her. “How are you doing?” he asked earnestly.
She shrugged. “I’m going to be okay, Ron.”
“All right, but how are you now?” he asked, at which Ginny had to smile. Despite being an insensitive jerk on occasion, Ron had always been able to understand Ginny better than most others could.
“It’s hard,” she admitted. “It hurts. But I’m stronger than this.”
“I know you are. But-” He paused. “I really wanted to hurt Draco when I heard you two were married, but I came to terms with it. But if he broke your heart, I really will kill him.”
“Don’t kill him,” Ginny said, unable to hide a smile. “Hermione needs you, and besides, I don’t think you’d like Azkaban.” Ron laughed and hugged her again.
The siblings talked for a few more minutes, standing there together on the sidewalk as the crowd rushed past them. Then, after giving Ginny strict instructions that if she ever needed a shoulder to cry on, she was to come to him, Ron left.
Ginny was still smiling from Ron’s unexpected reaction when she reached St. Mungo’s. After missing two days of work, she wanted a chance to check her office and see if she’d received any important mail, and Saturday was the perfect day because Glennis wouldn’t be there to pester her with questions about Draco, questions that would undoubtedly lead to pain on Ginny’s part. She wanted a little more time before she had to face her boss.
She walked up the stairs to her floor, grateful that she didn’t meet anyone in the stairwell. She had nearly made it all the way to her office without seeing anyone who wanted to talk to her when she heard her name being called behind her. “Mrs. Malfoy!” came a young female voice, and she winced involuntarily.
“Yes?” she said, turning to find the speaker.
It was Eliza, one of the trainees she’d worked with on that fateful Wednesday before everything had gone wrong. The girl was smiling brightly and Ginny suddenly felt very, very old. “What can I do for you, Eliza?”
“I was just wondering where you’d been. Glennis said she was going to have you work with us on Thursday and Friday, but you weren’t at work. Have you been sick?”
Ginny smiled sadly. “Just some family trouble.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” the girl cried. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m just glad to see you’re back and feeling well.”
“Thank you,” Ginny replied wearily. “I’ll see you on Monday, all right?”
“All right,” Eliza said, then suddenly seized Ginny’s hand. “And I hope everything works out for you,” she said earnestly, and then left.
Ginny bit her lip as she watched the girl hurry away, wondering how a near stranger’s kindness could nearly reduce her to tears. But she regained her composure and went into her office.
There was, as she’d expected, a pile of letters there, and she leaned against the desk and began to go through them. It was the expected assortment of medical journals and letters from wizards claiming to have invented a new spell to cure the common cold, plus, among the mail that had arrived on Friday, one plain white envelope bearing her name in flowing script. That handwriting looked very familiar, and her heart began to pound as she set the other letters aside and carefully opened the envelope.
It was a check for fifty thousand galleons, signed by Draco Malfoy. Ginny set the check carefully down on her desk, and then she fell to her knees and cried.
. . . . .
Malfoy Manor had been Draco’s home all of his life- except for the time he’d spent in the Order- and he loved it. He loved the rolling hills in the park, the grand ballroom, the musty library, the elegant dining and sitting rooms, and the long, high-ceilinged corridors. He’d never understood those people who thought that a house of that size was a waste. It was not a waste, in his opinion. It was just how the Malfoy home should be.
But suddenly, everything had changed. The park, once prized by its owners as a status of their wealth and everything they had attained in life, suddenly seemed flat and colorless. The house, which had once seemed gracefully laid out and elegantly decorated, suddenly felt awkward and and bulky. And most of all, Malfoy Manor suddenly felt much too large and very empty. And Draco knew why, knew it every time he heard his footsteps echo down a long bare hallway or passed the door to the nursery.
It had been five days since Ginny had left, though it seemed much, much longer. Draco tried to pass the time by doing anything but think of her. He treated himself to dinner and went out for drinks. He read books and newspapers and magazines and anything else he could find. He did inventory checks around the Manor and rearranged furniture and even offered to help the house elves paint a shed out back, an offer which horrified them.
But most of all he worked, because his job was the only constant in his life. He found it a great comfort every day to leave Malfoy Manor, which had to gall to still smell like Ginny, and go to his impersonal office. It was the one thing that kept the grief at bay. His boss and coworkers remarked that he seemed to be very dedicated to his work of late- he showed up early, left late, and filled every moment of his day with some task, no matter how menial. Draco would simply smile at them when they said this, and then after they’d left his office, he’d allow himself a brief moment to lean his head in his hands and sigh. And then he’d get back to work.
He no longer left the office for lunch, as he had occasionally done beforehand, because to walk out of the Ministry offices brought one very near St. Mungo’s. So he ate in the break room, usually with Seamus Finnigan, who chattered on and on, usually about nothing that Draco wanted to discuss: wasn’t Calliope wonderful, and he was so happy that he’d found her, and how were things with Ginny, by the way? Draco gave short, noncommittal answers and carefully told himself, when he was about to hex Seamus, that the Irishman didn’t mean to be insensitive. He simply didn’t know that Ginny had walked out of Draco’s life and broken his heart.
In fact, no one knew, as far as he was aware, unless they had been told by Ginny. He hadn’t yet been able to discuss it with anyone. If James had been around, Draco might have talked to him, but he and Elise had left to visit family in Belfast Thursday morning, and Draco didn’t think to try to Floo him until Thursday afternoon. Beyond that, there was no one he felt comfortable talking to about Ginny. To avoid any questioning, he’d even told the house elves to tell callers that Ginny was simply out of the house. His lie would be found out eventually, he knew, but it bought him a little time to come to terms with it himself.
Of course that hadn’t happened yet. He was still in a state of shock over her leaving. He’d thought that at least he would get a chance to talk to her, but apparently she’d been too eager to get away. That thought still hurt. In those moments when his efforts to keep busy would fail and he’d suddenly find himself thinking of her, of her laugh and the way her red hair had spread out over the pillow when she’d slept next to him, his fond memories would be quickly interrupted by that persistent, nagging voice in his head that said that she was glad to be rid of him. And then his sorrow would snap him out of the trance he’d been in and he’d continue whatever he’d been doing.
Who’d have ever thought that he would fall for Ginny? Before they were married, they’d fought over some insignificant thing every time they met. And she was poor and she acted and dressed to match her status in life, and she was bossy and so perfect all the time . . . but even so, he knew that if she’d just give him the tiniest sign, he’d beg her to come back home, shabby robes and all. He didn’t care if she wore shabby robes for the rest of her life, as long as she spent that time with him. And they could live at the Manor and raise the seven children she’d always wanted and grow old together- but he had to stop thinking like that. She didn’t want him and he was better off accepting that sooner than later.
He didn’t see Ginny at all after she left, even when, in an act of sudden desperation on Thursday night, he Apparated to the field across the lane from the Burrow and stared at the house for a long time, wanting to knock but unable to do so. The lights were all off, and he wondered if they were asleep or if they were out for the evening. Either way, knocking seemed useless, so he simply stood and watched. If any of the Weasleys had come by, he would have asked them how Ginny was. But no one came, and after a long time he went home.
The only contact he had with his wife was to send her a check for the fifty thousand galleons he’d promised her after their divorce. Since technically they weren’t divorced yet, the oath hadn’t kicked in and forced him to, but he remembered that promise suddenly on Friday morning, and he wanted to give the money to Ginny. She’d really seemed to think it was important back when he’d made the oath, and if it made her happy then he wanted to give it to her. He didn’t even flinch at the price, high though it was. He would have given anything in the whole world to his sweet wife if she’d asked for it, even if “wife” was a title she no longer wanted to bear- at least, if he was the husband.
Monday was particularly bad, for some reason. Draco came wearily home from a long day at work and instinctively began to call Ginny’s name. Midway through he stopped, embarrassed, and looked around to see if any of the elves had heard. None were around, so he sighed and took his robes off and flopped down on a sofa in the den. He was so caught up in his own thoughts and remorse that he didn’t notice that anyone was knocking on the door until Bernard was answering it. Draco had a moment’s wild thought that it was Ginny coming home until Bernard said, “Ah, yes, sir. Won’t you come in?”
But from the sound of the creaking door and swift footsteps, whoever was at the front door had simply brushed past the elf and was headed straight for the den. “Draco Malfoy!” a voice boomed, and Draco didn’t have to turn to know that was Severus Snape standing in the doorway. “What have you done?”
“I don’t know. What have I done?” Draco repeated, falling immediately back into his usual defense mechanism: sarcasm and wit. “Please tell me.”
“All right,” Severus said, too annoyed to even respond to Draco’s baiting. “I’ll tell you what you did. Where is Mrs. Malfoy?”
Draco shrugged. “I wasn’t good enough for her. Tea?”
“She said that?”
“Of course not,” Draco replied flippantly. “She’s much kinder than people like you or me.”
Severus swept into the room and around the sofa until he could stare Draco in the face. “Draco,” he hissed, venom in his voice, “give me a straight answer or I will hex you. Why did Ginny leave you, and why did I have to hear it from Remus Lupin?”
“You know my answer to the first question,” Draco said, still hiding behind his facade of indifference, “and in answer to the second, I suppose Lupin’s just a bit of a gossip. Honestly, I wonder what my cousin sees in him.”
Severus’s lips had gone white, and Draco knew that the man was angry in a way that he hadn’t seen since Harry Potter had been in potions classes at Hogwarts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Draco found he couldn’t muster the energy to be breezy any longer, so he simply stared at Severus, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t really want to talk about it,” he bit off, and Severus stepped back, apparently realizing he’d pushed too hard. If Ginny had been there, Draco mused, she’d have apologized. But Severus just stared at him.
“When?” he asked.
Draco shrugged, suddenly unable to look Severus in the face. “Wednesday. When I got back from seeing James, she was gone.”
Severus looked as though Draco had just confirmed his worst fears. “Do you think it’s because I gave you Malfoy Manor?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that had something to do with it,” Draco said pertly. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
“It wasn’t meant to happen like-” Severus cut off and brought one hand to his forehead, a rare gesture that communicated how truly upset he was. “Foolish.”
“Yes, well, when you’re young and not in love, you do stupid things.”
“Then who? And what do you mean, ‘It wasn’t meant to happen like this’?” Draco looked up at Severus in growing dismay. “Don’t tell me you had some ulterior motive.”
“I-” And then Severus trailed off.
“You what?” Draco demanded, rising from the sofa to look Severus in the face. His old teacher looked intimidated, and for good reason; he might have been the better wizard, but Draco was far superior physically.
“I- I thought it was time you settled down, and you’d been so happy with Ginny. I thought that if I made it so she didn’t have to stay, you’d realize you wanted her around.”
“You what?” Draco repeated. He could feel his hands involuntarily clench into fists. “Well, did you ever think about whether she’d want to stay?” Laughing in disbelief, he turned away and ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe if we’d had more time together, I could have . . .” He bit his lower lip. “But no. Now we have no time together. You ruined that.”
“Draco, I didn’t intend-”
“Get out of my house.” He spoke so softly that Severus leaned forward to hear.
“What?”
“Get out of my house!” Draco shouted, and this time he was sure Severus caught every word.
The potions master backed away a step. “I never meant for this to happen,” he said quietly. Draco turned his iciest glare on him, and after a moment’s hesitation, Severus pulled out his wand and Apparated.
Draco collapsed back onto the sofa, his head spinning. That Ginny had left was difficult enough to deal with, but to know that it was because of Severus’s meddling made it worse, somehow.
All the grief that he’d been trying to hold at bay the last few days returned full force and overwhelmed him. He could almost see Ginny sitting in that tall armchair by the fire, as she had been that first night of their marriage. She’d been smiling, amused at her own humor, laughing as she caught the pillow he’d thrown at her. “Someday, darling, you’ll realize I’m never done,” she’d said. He dropped his head into his hands.
And then, after a moment, he stood. He couldn’t stay here in this house, not when every sight and every sound brought back some memory of her. He pulled out his wand and Apparated to Diagon Alley without a second thought.
He wandered aimlessly up and down the streets for nearly an hour, letting the act of walking clear all thoughts from his mind. He didn’t even notice how late it had gotten until his stomach grumbled and he realized that he was famished.
He looked up, and there across the street, as though fate had intended for him to go there, was the diner that he and Ginny had eaten at on the first day of their marriage. He stared at it, thinking of the way his father had refused to let him eat there as a child because the cook was a Muggle, and then he stumbled across the street and went inside. He half expected to see Ginny sitting at the same table they’d sat at that day, but it was empty.
“I want a table,” he told the hostess at the front door. “Actually, I want that table.” He pointed to where he and Ginny had sat.
Some time later, he was seated in the same chair that he’d sat in that day three months earlier, poking listlessly at his meal. Despite having been hungry earlier, he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to eat. He was just beginning to wonder if he should ask for the check when his waiter suddenly appeared beside him.
“Sir, the two young ladies at the corner table would like you to join them.”
“What is this, a bar?” Draco demanded. “What kind of place are you running here?”
“No, sir,” the waiter said apologetically. “They said they’re your sisters-in-law.”
Draco turned quickly and saw, in the far corner, Hermione and Hannah looking back at him intently. With a sigh, he slid out of his chair and stalked over to them, glowering all the while. They looked slightly taken aback at angry expression. He turned to Hermione.
“You’re not my sister-in-law yet,” he said stubbornly.
That broke the tension and Hannah, laughing, scooted over on the bench. “Sit down,” she said, and he acquiesced only because he liked Hannah.
“Let me guess what this is about,” he said drily.
“Draco, what happened?” Hannah asked earnestly. “I saw you two at the party. You seemed so happy together.” Draco shrugged uncomfortably.
“Did you two fight?” Hermione asked, leaning forward.
Draco jerked back away from her out of habit. “You do realize, of course, that she’s the one who left me,” he said defensively. “Why don’t you ask her?”
Hannah sighed. “We’ve tried. All she’ll say is ‘It’s for the best.’”
Draco winced. He’d rather have heard that Ginny was unhappy away from him- not that he wanted her to ever be unhappy, of course, but he wanted her to want to come back to him.
Hermione saw this. “Draco,” she said softly, “what happened?”
He looked away. “I don’t know. Maybe we’re too different.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know,” he repeated loudly, annoyed. “She’s good, I’m evil. How about that?”
“You’re not evil, Draco,” Hannah said gently, and Draco wondered if she knew anything about Death Eaters or Lucius Malfoy.
As if reading his mind, Hermione said, “I know you, Draco, and you’re not.”
“Sure I am,” Draco responded. “Maybe Ginny finally realized that I’m the heartless beast everyone says I am.”
“When have you ever been heartless?” Hermione asked.
“Oh, always,” he said brassily. “Why on earth are you defending me, Hermione? I was awful enough to you in school.”
“You were young. But look what you’ve done since then. You joined the Order-”
“To spite my father. I hated him even more than I hated Harry Potter.”
“But did you ever believe in Voldemort’s ideas?” Hannah asked, and Draco decided it was clear she was a Muggle from the fact that she used the Dark Lord’s name so innocently. Even Hermione winced when she said it.
He couldn’t be flippant when Hannah looked so earnest, so he shrugged. “I thought about joining him, once. And even if I wasn’t a Death Eater, I kept busy hexing Ron and Harry and making you cry.” He looked at Hermione.
She shook her head. “You aren’t a bad person, Draco. You never were.” He was about to object when she spoke up. “Do you remember the Quidditch World Cup when we were fourteen?”
He shrugged uncomfortably. He should have known she’d remember something like that.
“Out in the forest, when the Death Eaters attacked those Muggles,” she continued, “we saw you, and you told me to- to ‘keep my bushy head down,’ I believe, were your exact words. I thought you were being rude then, but later I realized that you were warning me that the Death Eaters would come after people like me.”
Draco shrugged. “So I didn’t want you killed. That doesn’t mean anything.”
“That means everything, Draco!” Hannah said plaintively.
Hermione nodded wisely. “It means that underneath your layers of bad upbringing and the defenses that you built up- and that you probably really needed after all you’ve been through- you have a good heart, Draco.”
“And yet Ginny walked out on me,” Draco said. “So what good does having a good heart do me?”
“Oh, Draco,” Hannah murmured. “Do you really miss her?”
He realized he’d slipped. “Don’t tell her,” he pleaded, looking back and forth between the two women.
“Why not?” Hannah asked. “You two deserve happiness.”
“Because she doesn’t . . . feel the same way about me. Did she even seem upset when you talked to her?”
The two women looked at each other and Draco knew he’d been right. “See? And I’d like to escape from this with some dignity.”
“Draco-” Hermione began, sounding annoyed.
Hannah cut her off. “We won’t even tell her we saw you,” she promised. “But Draco, you should see her. You two need to talk before you throw away everything that you have together.”
Hermione looked at her in surprise, but Draco seized the opportunity. “Thank you, Hannah. I’d better go. Thanks for trying to cheer me up, both of you.”
They both smiled sadly at him as he walked back to his table to get his check. They were right; he did need to see Ginny, even if it was just to give her the divorce papers she was probably anxious to get her hands on. I’ll go . . . later, he told himself wearily, and Apparated home.
Moments after he arrived home, there came a knocking on the door. Too tired to get up his hopes once again that it was Ginny, he opened the door. It was Wilde, his colleague from the Department of International Cooperation, looking harried but relieved to see Draco. “Good, you're home,” he said. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for twenty minutes.”
“Why?” Draco asked warily.
Wilde smiled grimly. “L’Aube Foncée,” he explained. “They’ve attacked the French Ministry’s headquarters. France is asking for all the help they can get, and Dippet wants us all to go. Make sure you have your wand.” He paused. “Do you want to tell your wife goodbye?”
Draco shook his head. “No. She . . . no.” He didn't want to elaborate, and Wilde seemed to know not to press the subject. The two men drew their wands, and with a crack, they both disappeared.
. . . . . .
Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of me door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul.
- Elizabeth Barret Browning
. . . . . .
The first thing that Ginny saw when she awoke was a framed picture of a two-toed Tafettigos. Her first impression had been that it was a very lifelike painting, but she’d spent a great deal of the last two days in the room with the thing, and she was beginning to get an uneasy feeling that the very lifelike painting was actually a very real photograph. When she awoke on the third morning, looked at the Tafettigos, and found herself wondering just how Luna had managed to catch the thing on camera, she knew that it was time to get out of the apartment.
She’d been staying with Luna since she’d left Draco. While she’d been packing she’d intended to go to her parents, and indeed had Apparated to just outside the Burrow, but then as she’d stood there looking at the warmly lit windows of her childhood home she’d realized that she simply didn’t have it in her to walk in and tell her parents that she’d left her husband. It wasn’t that they would hold it against her that she’d walked out on Draco; what she feared is that her mother would inevitably want to have a heart-to-heart with her daughter, “just between us girls,” about what had happened, and Ginny knew that when Molly came to have this talk, sitting on the edge of her bed and smoothing down Ginny’s hair as she’d done when Ginny was young, then the floodgates would open and Ginny would pour out the whole story, beginning with the oath and ending with Draco’s celebratory drinks at the Leaky Cauldron.
And then, Ginny feared, her mother would be disappointed in her. Truth be known, she was a little disappointed in herself. When she’d agreed to marry Draco, the oath and their agreement hadn’t seemed that strange. Now that she could step back and examine the last few months, however, she could see what a bizarre situation it was that she’d gotten in, and she wasn’t sure her mother would approve. Oh, she’d be forgiving, of course, as would Arthur, but she was afraid they’d think that she was lacking in good sense, that she’d made a big mistake. And while she knew that she had to tell them eventually, she couldn’t face it so soon after leaving Draco. So after lingering a few moments outside the Burrow, she’d Apparated to Luna’s apartment.
Luna had taken her in immediately, not asking any questions until Ginny was settled in the guest bedroom of her spacious apartment near Hyde Park. Then she’d appeared in the doorway with a cup of Ginny’s favorite tea. The two friends had situated themselves on the bed, and only when she saw that Ginny was comfortable and calm did she speak. “So, what happened?”
Ginny had told her the truth- that she’d left her husband- but omitted the details. Luna had taken it easily and calmly, asking only one question: “Is it irreperable? I mean, I see Draco often in working for The Quibbler. Is there anything I can say to him for you?”
“Don’t say a word,” Ginny had begged. “Don’t even tell him I’m here with you. Please?”
Luna had agreed and that had been the end of their conversation.
The next two days had passed in quiet solitude for Ginny. Each morning she woke up too late to see Luna before she went to the newspaper office. She’d already written to Glennis about not coming into work, so she spent the day slouching around Luna’s apartment, dressed in her pajamas and wrapped in a quilt, alternately crying on the bed or staring out the window at the spacious Muggle synagogue down the street. Plenty of people passed by beneath the window, but until Luna came home in the evenings, Ginny had no human contact at all.
This surprised her a little. She hadn’t told anyone where she was going, and she’d told Luna to keep her whereabouts secret from even the Weasleys- at least, until she was feeling up to facing them- but still, somehow she’d expected that people would find out she was there and would come to comfort her and tell her that she did not need a man to complete her. But apparently Luna had taken the instructions to heart, and Ginny spent her days entirely alone.
She liked being alone, because she didn’t have to hide her emotions, but she disliked it because it gave her too much time with her thoughts. But the thoughts came, no matter how she fought it, so she very carefully thought about her family and her friends and her work and anything that wasn’t connected to Draco. Most of the time it worked.
It was on the morning of the third day at Luna’s that Ginny decided it was time to change out of her pajamas and get out into the world. She awoke early and looked at the clock: it was nearly nine. She knew that as it was Saturday, Luna wouldn’t be rising until later, so she allowed herself a few moments to lounge in the very comfortable bed. As she lay there, inert, her thoughts began wandering and before she could stop them they were back where they’d been trying to get for days: Draco. Where was he? What was he doing right then? Did he miss her? What had he thought to come home and find her gone? Was he glad to be rid of her? Or did he sometimes wander into her room at night, think of the girl who used to live there, and smile fondly?
She missed him so terribly that there was a dull ache in her chest, all the time. More than once, she’d drawn her wand, ready to Apparate to the Manor and beg him to let her come home, but then fear had stopped her. After all, if he’d really wanted her back, he would have found her, right? It couldn’t be that hard to locate her; if he was going down a list of her friends, Luna would be near the top. So clearly he wasn’t trying to find her.
She bit her lip and stared at the ceiling. Who’d have guessed that love would be such a terrible thing? She’d never really been in love before, and she’d always expected that when it happened, it would be . . . different than this. She’d thought things would be easier. Instead things had been difficult and painful and she had nothing to show for it, not love, not Draco, not even the fifty thousand Galleons she’d been so sure she wanted at the beginning of the marriage. She’d remembered suddenly on Thursday that parts of the oath she’d forced Draco to make were unfulfilled- most notably, that he was supposed to pay her fifty thousand Galleons at the end of their marriage. He would start feeling ill soon if he didn’t pay her, so she’d pulled out her wand and revoked the entire oath, hoping all the while that Draco would forget. His paying her for performing her role in their marriage would cheapen everything they had together.
She heard Luna stirring in the other room, so she forced herself out of bed and changed into real clothes, unable to resist the urge to choose a shirt that Draco had once told her he liked. After checking her appearance in the mirror, she went out into the kitchen.
Luna didn’t look surprised to see her up and dressed. With a wave of her wand she conjured a plate for Ginny, bangers and mash and a Welsh rarebit- Ginny had long since gotten used to Luna’s bizarre breakfasts- and motioned for her to sit down. “You missed a lot the last few days,” her friend said. “German Aurors foiled a plot to kidnap their minister of foreign relations and replace him with a shape-shifting pigeon.”
“You don’t say,” Ginny responded, poking half-heartedly at her potatoes. She hadn’t felt much like eating in the last few days.
Luna prattled on for a few more minutes while Ginny nodded politely. Then a silence fell in which Ginny, finished with what little food she was going to eat, stood. “Wait a moment,” Luna requested. “Please, sit.” Ginny sat, fairly sure she knew what was coming.
And it was. “How are you feeling?” Luna asked, looking at her with those big, earnest eyes. “The truth, if you please.”
She didn’t want to tell her the truth, because that meant examining that part of her that had hidden, wounded, deep in her heart for the last few days. But this was Luna, so she answered honestly, if somewhat hesitantly. “It hurts,” she said softly. “Sometimes I think about the rest of my life without him in it and I don’t even want to try to live it.”
“Then why did you leave?” Luna said, matter-of-fact but not unkind.
Ginny covered her face her with her hands. “He doesn’t love me,” she said, her voice muffled. “I thought- but now I know.” Oh, Merlin, she was going to cry again.
“He told you this?”
Behind her hands, Ginny winced. “No. But I could see it in his actions.”
“Is it possible you misread him?”
“I think I know my own husband,” Ginny said firmly, hoping Luna would end her questioning.
But she was persistent. “But it’s possible.”
Ginny rested her forehead on her hand. “I don’t know.”
Luna reached across the table and patted Ginny’s free hand. “Maybe you should talk to him,” she said kindly. “Good communication bridges gaps between people and reminds us all that we’re not alone in this world.”
Ginny looked up at her friend. “Luna, that was beautiful.”
Luna smiled. “Thanks. We’re considering it as the new slogan forT he Quibbler.”
Ginny was just standing again when a knock came at the door. She froze and felt her heart pounding in her ears. Let it be Draco, she begged silently. Let it be Draco looking for me. With a wave of her wand Luna cleared the breakfast dishes and opened the door, seemingly unaware of Ginny’s discomfort.
It was not Draco on the other side. “Hermione!” Luna greeted, moving aside so her guest could come in. “Good to see you!”
The two friends came into the living room, laughing and talking. Despite Hermione’s low opinion of Luna’s newspaper work, the two girls had become great friends during their work in the Order. “I just wanted to stop by and get your opinion on flowers for the wedding. Do you have any Floo powder? I was thinking of asking Ginny to come by.”
“No need for that, Herm,” Ginny said, coming out of the kitchen.
“Ginny!” Hermione said in delight, though her smile faltered as she saw Ginny’s forlorn expression. “What are you doing here?”
Ginny took a seat in the living room and the other two women followed suit. “Well,” Ginny said stoicly, figuring that it had to come out sooner or later, “I left Draco.”
She’d known that Hermione would be surprised, but she hadn’t expected her to gasp, her hands over her mouth. “No! Really, Ginny?” When Ginny nodded to say that yes, it was true, Hermione leaned back in her chair, frowning. “You were always a strange couple, but I really thought you two would make it. You seemed so happy together.”
Every word was like a punch in the gut to Ginny. She wanted nothing more than to cry, to pour out the whole story to Hermione and Luna, oath and all. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it, so she simply smiled sadly. “I think this is for the best,” she lied. “Don’t worry about me, Herm. I’ll be all right.”
And she didn’t cry, not at any point in the short visit. Hermione left quickly after hearing Ginny’s news; Ginny was sure she had tactfully decided that wedding flowers oughtn’t be discussed with a woman whose marriage was falling apart.
Her early departure was a blessing to Ginny, who didn’t want to talk about leaving Draco anymore. She supposed it couldn’t be avoided, though, as she’d reluctantly given Hermione permission to tell the Weasleys what had happened, and she was sure they would descend on her soon. With that in mind, she decided to get out of the apartment and stretch her legs; it’d be harder for her family to find her.
So after telling Luna goodbye, Ginny Apparated to Diagon Alley. She wanted to stop by work later, but she also wanted a few moments to herself, and there was no better place for anonymity than crowded Diagon Alley on a Saturday. She strolled past shop windows, losing herself in the sounds of the crowd. It was very soothing to get out of her head for a while, and she was just beginning to think that she might stay there all day when she heard her name being called.
It was Ron, standing on the other side of the street, the expression on his face strange and unreadable. She was sure that he knew, however- he was the first one that Hermione would have told- and she braced herself for an onslaught of “I told you so” and “You can’t trust a Malfoy.”
Instead, to her great surprise, he silently crossed the street, pushing his way through the thronging crowd, and drew his baby sister into a hug. Shocked but not so surprised that she’d miss the rare chance to be comforted by her brother, she hugged him back. “I’m so sorry, Gin,” he said, and on hearing him use her childhood nickname, one that Draco had also recently taken to using, she nearly began to cry.
She managed to fight back her tears and simply responded, “Thank you.”
Her brother pulled away and looked at her. “How are you doing?” he asked earnestly.
She shrugged. “I’m going to be okay, Ron.”
“All right, but how are you now?” he asked, at which Ginny had to smile. Despite being an insensitive jerk on occasion, Ron had always been able to understand Ginny better than most others could.
“It’s hard,” she admitted. “It hurts. But I’m stronger than this.”
“I know you are. But-” He paused. “I really wanted to hurt Draco when I heard you two were married, but I came to terms with it. But if he broke your heart, I really will kill him.”
“Don’t kill him,” Ginny said, unable to hide a smile. “Hermione needs you, and besides, I don’t think you’d like Azkaban.” Ron laughed and hugged her again.
The siblings talked for a few more minutes, standing there together on the sidewalk as the crowd rushed past them. Then, after giving Ginny strict instructions that if she ever needed a shoulder to cry on, she was to come to him, Ron left.
Ginny was still smiling from Ron’s unexpected reaction when she reached St. Mungo’s. After missing two days of work, she wanted a chance to check her office and see if she’d received any important mail, and Saturday was the perfect day because Glennis wouldn’t be there to pester her with questions about Draco, questions that would undoubtedly lead to pain on Ginny’s part. She wanted a little more time before she had to face her boss.
She walked up the stairs to her floor, grateful that she didn’t meet anyone in the stairwell. She had nearly made it all the way to her office without seeing anyone who wanted to talk to her when she heard her name being called behind her. “Mrs. Malfoy!” came a young female voice, and she winced involuntarily.
“Yes?” she said, turning to find the speaker.
It was Eliza, one of the trainees she’d worked with on that fateful Wednesday before everything had gone wrong. The girl was smiling brightly and Ginny suddenly felt very, very old. “What can I do for you, Eliza?”
“I was just wondering where you’d been. Glennis said she was going to have you work with us on Thursday and Friday, but you weren’t at work. Have you been sick?”
Ginny smiled sadly. “Just some family trouble.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” the girl cried. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m just glad to see you’re back and feeling well.”
“Thank you,” Ginny replied wearily. “I’ll see you on Monday, all right?”
“All right,” Eliza said, then suddenly seized Ginny’s hand. “And I hope everything works out for you,” she said earnestly, and then left.
Ginny bit her lip as she watched the girl hurry away, wondering how a near stranger’s kindness could nearly reduce her to tears. But she regained her composure and went into her office.
There was, as she’d expected, a pile of letters there, and she leaned against the desk and began to go through them. It was the expected assortment of medical journals and letters from wizards claiming to have invented a new spell to cure the common cold, plus, among the mail that had arrived on Friday, one plain white envelope bearing her name in flowing script. That handwriting looked very familiar, and her heart began to pound as she set the other letters aside and carefully opened the envelope.
It was a check for fifty thousand galleons, signed by Draco Malfoy. Ginny set the check carefully down on her desk, and then she fell to her knees and cried.
. . . . .
Malfoy Manor had been Draco’s home all of his life- except for the time he’d spent in the Order- and he loved it. He loved the rolling hills in the park, the grand ballroom, the musty library, the elegant dining and sitting rooms, and the long, high-ceilinged corridors. He’d never understood those people who thought that a house of that size was a waste. It was not a waste, in his opinion. It was just how the Malfoy home should be.
But suddenly, everything had changed. The park, once prized by its owners as a status of their wealth and everything they had attained in life, suddenly seemed flat and colorless. The house, which had once seemed gracefully laid out and elegantly decorated, suddenly felt awkward and and bulky. And most of all, Malfoy Manor suddenly felt much too large and very empty. And Draco knew why, knew it every time he heard his footsteps echo down a long bare hallway or passed the door to the nursery.
It had been five days since Ginny had left, though it seemed much, much longer. Draco tried to pass the time by doing anything but think of her. He treated himself to dinner and went out for drinks. He read books and newspapers and magazines and anything else he could find. He did inventory checks around the Manor and rearranged furniture and even offered to help the house elves paint a shed out back, an offer which horrified them.
But most of all he worked, because his job was the only constant in his life. He found it a great comfort every day to leave Malfoy Manor, which had to gall to still smell like Ginny, and go to his impersonal office. It was the one thing that kept the grief at bay. His boss and coworkers remarked that he seemed to be very dedicated to his work of late- he showed up early, left late, and filled every moment of his day with some task, no matter how menial. Draco would simply smile at them when they said this, and then after they’d left his office, he’d allow himself a brief moment to lean his head in his hands and sigh. And then he’d get back to work.
He no longer left the office for lunch, as he had occasionally done beforehand, because to walk out of the Ministry offices brought one very near St. Mungo’s. So he ate in the break room, usually with Seamus Finnigan, who chattered on and on, usually about nothing that Draco wanted to discuss: wasn’t Calliope wonderful, and he was so happy that he’d found her, and how were things with Ginny, by the way? Draco gave short, noncommittal answers and carefully told himself, when he was about to hex Seamus, that the Irishman didn’t mean to be insensitive. He simply didn’t know that Ginny had walked out of Draco’s life and broken his heart.
In fact, no one knew, as far as he was aware, unless they had been told by Ginny. He hadn’t yet been able to discuss it with anyone. If James had been around, Draco might have talked to him, but he and Elise had left to visit family in Belfast Thursday morning, and Draco didn’t think to try to Floo him until Thursday afternoon. Beyond that, there was no one he felt comfortable talking to about Ginny. To avoid any questioning, he’d even told the house elves to tell callers that Ginny was simply out of the house. His lie would be found out eventually, he knew, but it bought him a little time to come to terms with it himself.
Of course that hadn’t happened yet. He was still in a state of shock over her leaving. He’d thought that at least he would get a chance to talk to her, but apparently she’d been too eager to get away. That thought still hurt. In those moments when his efforts to keep busy would fail and he’d suddenly find himself thinking of her, of her laugh and the way her red hair had spread out over the pillow when she’d slept next to him, his fond memories would be quickly interrupted by that persistent, nagging voice in his head that said that she was glad to be rid of him. And then his sorrow would snap him out of the trance he’d been in and he’d continue whatever he’d been doing.
Who’d have ever thought that he would fall for Ginny? Before they were married, they’d fought over some insignificant thing every time they met. And she was poor and she acted and dressed to match her status in life, and she was bossy and so perfect all the time . . . but even so, he knew that if she’d just give him the tiniest sign, he’d beg her to come back home, shabby robes and all. He didn’t care if she wore shabby robes for the rest of her life, as long as she spent that time with him. And they could live at the Manor and raise the seven children she’d always wanted and grow old together- but he had to stop thinking like that. She didn’t want him and he was better off accepting that sooner than later.
He didn’t see Ginny at all after she left, even when, in an act of sudden desperation on Thursday night, he Apparated to the field across the lane from the Burrow and stared at the house for a long time, wanting to knock but unable to do so. The lights were all off, and he wondered if they were asleep or if they were out for the evening. Either way, knocking seemed useless, so he simply stood and watched. If any of the Weasleys had come by, he would have asked them how Ginny was. But no one came, and after a long time he went home.
The only contact he had with his wife was to send her a check for the fifty thousand galleons he’d promised her after their divorce. Since technically they weren’t divorced yet, the oath hadn’t kicked in and forced him to, but he remembered that promise suddenly on Friday morning, and he wanted to give the money to Ginny. She’d really seemed to think it was important back when he’d made the oath, and if it made her happy then he wanted to give it to her. He didn’t even flinch at the price, high though it was. He would have given anything in the whole world to his sweet wife if she’d asked for it, even if “wife” was a title she no longer wanted to bear- at least, if he was the husband.
Monday was particularly bad, for some reason. Draco came wearily home from a long day at work and instinctively began to call Ginny’s name. Midway through he stopped, embarrassed, and looked around to see if any of the elves had heard. None were around, so he sighed and took his robes off and flopped down on a sofa in the den. He was so caught up in his own thoughts and remorse that he didn’t notice that anyone was knocking on the door until Bernard was answering it. Draco had a moment’s wild thought that it was Ginny coming home until Bernard said, “Ah, yes, sir. Won’t you come in?”
But from the sound of the creaking door and swift footsteps, whoever was at the front door had simply brushed past the elf and was headed straight for the den. “Draco Malfoy!” a voice boomed, and Draco didn’t have to turn to know that was Severus Snape standing in the doorway. “What have you done?”
“I don’t know. What have I done?” Draco repeated, falling immediately back into his usual defense mechanism: sarcasm and wit. “Please tell me.”
“All right,” Severus said, too annoyed to even respond to Draco’s baiting. “I’ll tell you what you did. Where is Mrs. Malfoy?”
Draco shrugged. “I wasn’t good enough for her. Tea?”
“She said that?”
“Of course not,” Draco replied flippantly. “She’s much kinder than people like you or me.”
Severus swept into the room and around the sofa until he could stare Draco in the face. “Draco,” he hissed, venom in his voice, “give me a straight answer or I will hex you. Why did Ginny leave you, and why did I have to hear it from Remus Lupin?”
“You know my answer to the first question,” Draco said, still hiding behind his facade of indifference, “and in answer to the second, I suppose Lupin’s just a bit of a gossip. Honestly, I wonder what my cousin sees in him.”
Severus’s lips had gone white, and Draco knew that the man was angry in a way that he hadn’t seen since Harry Potter had been in potions classes at Hogwarts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Draco found he couldn’t muster the energy to be breezy any longer, so he simply stared at Severus, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t really want to talk about it,” he bit off, and Severus stepped back, apparently realizing he’d pushed too hard. If Ginny had been there, Draco mused, she’d have apologized. But Severus just stared at him.
“When?” he asked.
Draco shrugged, suddenly unable to look Severus in the face. “Wednesday. When I got back from seeing James, she was gone.”
Severus looked as though Draco had just confirmed his worst fears. “Do you think it’s because I gave you Malfoy Manor?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that had something to do with it,” Draco said pertly. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
“It wasn’t meant to happen like-” Severus cut off and brought one hand to his forehead, a rare gesture that communicated how truly upset he was. “Foolish.”
“Yes, well, when you’re young and not in love, you do stupid things.”
“Then who? And what do you mean, ‘It wasn’t meant to happen like this’?” Draco looked up at Severus in growing dismay. “Don’t tell me you had some ulterior motive.”
“I-” And then Severus trailed off.
“You what?” Draco demanded, rising from the sofa to look Severus in the face. His old teacher looked intimidated, and for good reason; he might have been the better wizard, but Draco was far superior physically.
“I- I thought it was time you settled down, and you’d been so happy with Ginny. I thought that if I made it so she didn’t have to stay, you’d realize you wanted her around.”
“You what?” Draco repeated. He could feel his hands involuntarily clench into fists. “Well, did you ever think about whether she’d want to stay?” Laughing in disbelief, he turned away and ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe if we’d had more time together, I could have . . .” He bit his lower lip. “But no. Now we have no time together. You ruined that.”
“Draco, I didn’t intend-”
“Get out of my house.” He spoke so softly that Severus leaned forward to hear.
“What?”
“Get out of my house!” Draco shouted, and this time he was sure Severus caught every word.
The potions master backed away a step. “I never meant for this to happen,” he said quietly. Draco turned his iciest glare on him, and after a moment’s hesitation, Severus pulled out his wand and Apparated.
Draco collapsed back onto the sofa, his head spinning. That Ginny had left was difficult enough to deal with, but to know that it was because of Severus’s meddling made it worse, somehow.
All the grief that he’d been trying to hold at bay the last few days returned full force and overwhelmed him. He could almost see Ginny sitting in that tall armchair by the fire, as she had been that first night of their marriage. She’d been smiling, amused at her own humor, laughing as she caught the pillow he’d thrown at her. “Someday, darling, you’ll realize I’m never done,” she’d said. He dropped his head into his hands.
And then, after a moment, he stood. He couldn’t stay here in this house, not when every sight and every sound brought back some memory of her. He pulled out his wand and Apparated to Diagon Alley without a second thought.
He wandered aimlessly up and down the streets for nearly an hour, letting the act of walking clear all thoughts from his mind. He didn’t even notice how late it had gotten until his stomach grumbled and he realized that he was famished.
He looked up, and there across the street, as though fate had intended for him to go there, was the diner that he and Ginny had eaten at on the first day of their marriage. He stared at it, thinking of the way his father had refused to let him eat there as a child because the cook was a Muggle, and then he stumbled across the street and went inside. He half expected to see Ginny sitting at the same table they’d sat at that day, but it was empty.
“I want a table,” he told the hostess at the front door. “Actually, I want that table.” He pointed to where he and Ginny had sat.
Some time later, he was seated in the same chair that he’d sat in that day three months earlier, poking listlessly at his meal. Despite having been hungry earlier, he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to eat. He was just beginning to wonder if he should ask for the check when his waiter suddenly appeared beside him.
“Sir, the two young ladies at the corner table would like you to join them.”
“What is this, a bar?” Draco demanded. “What kind of place are you running here?”
“No, sir,” the waiter said apologetically. “They said they’re your sisters-in-law.”
Draco turned quickly and saw, in the far corner, Hermione and Hannah looking back at him intently. With a sigh, he slid out of his chair and stalked over to them, glowering all the while. They looked slightly taken aback at angry expression. He turned to Hermione.
“You’re not my sister-in-law yet,” he said stubbornly.
That broke the tension and Hannah, laughing, scooted over on the bench. “Sit down,” she said, and he acquiesced only because he liked Hannah.
“Let me guess what this is about,” he said drily.
“Draco, what happened?” Hannah asked earnestly. “I saw you two at the party. You seemed so happy together.” Draco shrugged uncomfortably.
“Did you two fight?” Hermione asked, leaning forward.
Draco jerked back away from her out of habit. “You do realize, of course, that she’s the one who left me,” he said defensively. “Why don’t you ask her?”
Hannah sighed. “We’ve tried. All she’ll say is ‘It’s for the best.’”
Draco winced. He’d rather have heard that Ginny was unhappy away from him- not that he wanted her to ever be unhappy, of course, but he wanted her to want to come back to him.
Hermione saw this. “Draco,” she said softly, “what happened?”
He looked away. “I don’t know. Maybe we’re too different.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know,” he repeated loudly, annoyed. “She’s good, I’m evil. How about that?”
“You’re not evil, Draco,” Hannah said gently, and Draco wondered if she knew anything about Death Eaters or Lucius Malfoy.
As if reading his mind, Hermione said, “I know you, Draco, and you’re not.”
“Sure I am,” Draco responded. “Maybe Ginny finally realized that I’m the heartless beast everyone says I am.”
“When have you ever been heartless?” Hermione asked.
“Oh, always,” he said brassily. “Why on earth are you defending me, Hermione? I was awful enough to you in school.”
“You were young. But look what you’ve done since then. You joined the Order-”
“To spite my father. I hated him even more than I hated Harry Potter.”
“But did you ever believe in Voldemort’s ideas?” Hannah asked, and Draco decided it was clear she was a Muggle from the fact that she used the Dark Lord’s name so innocently. Even Hermione winced when she said it.
He couldn’t be flippant when Hannah looked so earnest, so he shrugged. “I thought about joining him, once. And even if I wasn’t a Death Eater, I kept busy hexing Ron and Harry and making you cry.” He looked at Hermione.
She shook her head. “You aren’t a bad person, Draco. You never were.” He was about to object when she spoke up. “Do you remember the Quidditch World Cup when we were fourteen?”
He shrugged uncomfortably. He should have known she’d remember something like that.
“Out in the forest, when the Death Eaters attacked those Muggles,” she continued, “we saw you, and you told me to- to ‘keep my bushy head down,’ I believe, were your exact words. I thought you were being rude then, but later I realized that you were warning me that the Death Eaters would come after people like me.”
Draco shrugged. “So I didn’t want you killed. That doesn’t mean anything.”
“That means everything, Draco!” Hannah said plaintively.
Hermione nodded wisely. “It means that underneath your layers of bad upbringing and the defenses that you built up- and that you probably really needed after all you’ve been through- you have a good heart, Draco.”
“And yet Ginny walked out on me,” Draco said. “So what good does having a good heart do me?”
“Oh, Draco,” Hannah murmured. “Do you really miss her?”
He realized he’d slipped. “Don’t tell her,” he pleaded, looking back and forth between the two women.
“Why not?” Hannah asked. “You two deserve happiness.”
“Because she doesn’t . . . feel the same way about me. Did she even seem upset when you talked to her?”
The two women looked at each other and Draco knew he’d been right. “See? And I’d like to escape from this with some dignity.”
“Draco-” Hermione began, sounding annoyed.
Hannah cut her off. “We won’t even tell her we saw you,” she promised. “But Draco, you should see her. You two need to talk before you throw away everything that you have together.”
Hermione looked at her in surprise, but Draco seized the opportunity. “Thank you, Hannah. I’d better go. Thanks for trying to cheer me up, both of you.”
They both smiled sadly at him as he walked back to his table to get his check. They were right; he did need to see Ginny, even if it was just to give her the divorce papers she was probably anxious to get her hands on. I’ll go . . . later, he told himself wearily, and Apparated home.
Moments after he arrived home, there came a knocking on the door. Too tired to get up his hopes once again that it was Ginny, he opened the door. It was Wilde, his colleague from the Department of International Cooperation, looking harried but relieved to see Draco. “Good, you're home,” he said. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for twenty minutes.”
“Why?” Draco asked warily.
Wilde smiled grimly. “L’Aube Foncée,” he explained. “They’ve attacked the French Ministry’s headquarters. France is asking for all the help they can get, and Dippet wants us all to go. Make sure you have your wand.” He paused. “Do you want to tell your wife goodbye?”
Draco shook his head. “No. She . . . no.” He didn't want to elaborate, and Wilde seemed to know not to press the subject. The two men drew their wands, and with a crack, they both disappeared.
. . . . . .
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