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You’ve loved the sea for as long as you can remember. A thousand memories of Brighton and Blackpool fill your head as you think of the fun you had collecting dozens of different shaped shells. You learnt to swim in the sea; Charlie and Bill held you carefully, fearful that the little girl- so different from them- would be swept away into open water. Memories of your happy childhood flit through your mind, of finding better shells than Ron, playing pranks with the twins, and a few rare ones of your father (with a full head of hair) building sandcastles with you. Now you watch as a young red-headed girl plays on the beach with her older brother, trying to pour a bucket of water over his head. You can’t help but smile at this, while the man sitting next to you laughs openly, causing to the little girl to look up and wave at you. You wave back, a smile on your face as the sun shines brightly down on everyone. Servants walk hurriedly around you, getting lunch ready for the family and you call out to the children, wanting to make sure they are out the water before the waves get any higher. Somewhere inside your head you know days like these will fill your memories, replacing the ones of your childhood, but you don’t mind letting go now – you have everything you ever dreamed of.
After the children have been put to bed, you try to tear your overindulgent husband away from the hundreds of parchments that litter his desk but he grabs you and holds you tightly against him, his face in your hair and his smile making you feel safe. He lets go after a few moments and goes to remove a small box from his desk.
“I have something for you,” he says slowly walking towards you.
You can’t help but wonder at the contents of the box, and you give him a small smile as he instructs you to close your eyes. You open your eyes when you feel something cool touch your neck, and look in the mirror to see yourself wearing a small silver necklace, and behind you he stands, looking proud, glad and somewhat content at having given you another perfect gift. “You will always remember me, won’t you, Ginny?” he asks, his face serious now.
You want to reassure him that nothing will ever happen, that you both will live out your days here, amongst the vineyards and warm sea but instead you give him the answer he wants, sighing softly, you say “Always and always, Draco.” He nods and although he is no longer smiling, his eyes are bright and you know your answer has given him some strength. He goes back to his endless work and you walk out, onto the empty beach, and stand silently, letting the Italian air warm you as you ponder your future and that of your family.
You wake up before dawn and you can already hear the birds softly twittering and the waves crashing onto rocks. Next to you he sleeps soundly, but with a frown upon his face. You wish you could take his worries away and soothe his fears but you know it is not possible, and so instead you get dressed and begin another day.
You hear the children running back from their lessons and you look up from your book to see them with their governess following behind them. They are already talking animatedly about something when they reach you, their speech a mixture of English and Italian. Your attention is now fully on them, your book lying forgotten on the side. They sit down and you are content to just listen in, smiling at their remarks and jokes. You still remember the days you brought them into this world, nervous and overwhelmed but unbelievably happy. Your son has always been a quiet child, forever following you, standing quietly, even when his sister was born. You know that no matter what else you make regret or wish you could change, there will never be a time in your life when you will want to change or replace them. You can hear the maid calling for lunch and you break out of your thoughts, get up and lead the children to the table. Everyone sits silently for a few minutes, until Draco walks in, smiling apologetically and signalling for lunch to begin. The children begin to tell their father of their day and you sit back and watch him laugh at their jokes and talk happily with them, his worries unapparent. Just as you have all finished, and your plates are being removed by the maid you hear a shout and loud bang, your daughter stops halfway through her story and you all look towards the hallway, the source of the noise. You get up to see what is happening when a dozen men come running in, their wands drawn. Draco throws his napkin down on the table and stands up. You try not to shake as two of the men point their wands straight at you. You know that your prefect life has come to an end.
Draco tells the children to go to their rooms, and you call for one of the maids to take them away. You don’t want your children to see their father being taken away. Your daughter takes the maid’s hand and leaves quietly but your son stands for a few moments trying to understand what is happening and why his father is being held by two serious looking men. You call gently to your son and when he turns to face you, the fear and worry is clearly visible on his face. You try to give him a reassuring smile and tell him to go with his sister. He looks back at his father, who nods in agreement, and then runs after his sister and the maid.
Draco instructs the men to let go of him and to your surprise they do. He turns around to face you and though he says nothing you understand what he means. Your heart wrenches but you smile at him as he is walked out the house and into a waiting car. He looks out the window and smiles back at you. It is only after the car drives away and the silence surrounds you, you realise that tears are running down your cheeks.
You barely have the will to survive the next few days but you try when you realise your son stops talking and lives in his own safe world consisting of both a father and a mother. You are thankful that your daughter is oblivious, used to having her father travel and disappear for days. The sun still shines and the though life seems to continue, for you everything is in disarray and you try to come to terms with not having someone to hold you at night and keep you safe. The burden now falls upon your shoulders and you are unsure, just as you were ten years ago, when you first held your child. You have to be strong just like before.
Days turn into weeks and you hear nothing at all, until an owl appears at your window, informing you of your husband’s fate. You hold the letter tightly in your hand not even letting go when you maid calls you for your bath. Instead you let the parchment turn to pulp in the water and the ink fade away. The words however, remain firmly imprinted in your mind and you say them over and over again.
Death by curse.
You can’t sleep that night, so you walk on the beach, and you are reminded of the many times you both sat here and talked the entire night or laughed and kissed, aware of nothing but each other, and especially of the time when you stood here and vowed to love each other above all else. You just want to see him one more time, just share one more kiss. You can’t help think of your life without him but nothing can come to mind and you realise that you’ve never even thought of a world apart from him and you are scared not by the fact that you won’t survive after he is gone but the idea that you will.
You watch the night turn into day and you can already hear the house becoming alive behind you. You get up and walk back into the house, leaving sand all over the clean floor. The children are still asleep, safely ensconced in their dreams. You kiss them gently and tuck in any outstretched limbs. You make your way to your dressing room, and dress quickly – there’s much to be done today and you’ve never been much of an idler. With everything necessary in hand you apperate to Rome, where a portkey awaits you.
The rush nearly overwhelms you, after having lived in relative isolation for more than a decade, but you push on, determined to succeed with your plan. You walk over and purchase a ticket in your fluent Italian, nodding to the occasional ‘buongiorno’ and ‘scusi’ as people hurry past you. The portkey is on time and you gather around it with a few others. You feel the normal pull and when you open your eyes, you see another busy station but the weather outside shows that you’re back in London. Carefully making your way through the crowds, you take a deep breath and calm yourself before apperating to Strand, and more importantly, to the Ministry of Magic.
The rain is pouring down and you run quickly into an empty street and to the empty telephone box. You press the appropriate buttons and wait for the voice. You try not to let your voice quiver as you state your name and business. A card pops out and you take it before disappearing beneath the ground. Nothing has changed and you feel as if you have been transported back to your fourth year. You get through security without any hassle but with a few odd looks and you make your way towards the lifts.
You walk along the corridor until you reach the door you were looking for, and taking a deep breath you knock sharply on the door and wait. You hear mumbling inside and then a loud laugh before the sound of someone walking to the door.
“Late again, Her-”
You gaze at the man standing before you, looking just as he did many years ago. He stares at you, his mouth agape for a few minutes. You can see a variety of emotions flicker in his eyes – anger, betrayal and finally joy. Before you can speak, he steps forward and encompasses you in a suffocating tight hug. You both stand like this for what seems like an eternity and you feel like ten again, surrounded by love and security.
When you both pull away you see him quickly wipe his eyes with the back of his hand and you feel guilt wash over you. He however cannot stop smiling at you, and you comply when he takes your hand and guides you into his office.
The chaotic appearance of the office is a clear reflection of its occupants. Some things just don’t change, you think to yourself. You look up from the mess to see the boy-who-lived staring at you, his eyes wide.
“Hello Harry,” you whisper. He shakes his head in disbelief but offers his hand, which you take.
You take a seat, sitting on the edge nervously. Nobody speaks for a moment, the shock overpowering them. You decide to speak first; you have little time as it is.
“How’s everyone, Ron? I heard about the wedding Harry – congratulations. I’m sure you both make a lovely couple.”
Your brother speaks first, his voice emotional, “It’s been so long. Why did you stay away? How’ve you been? Why?”
You let out a sigh, and try to explain the last twelve years of your life as quickly as possible. It’s then that it hits you – soon enough you’ll be the only person to remember all these years and shared memories. Choking back a sob, you continue telling your brother and one-time lover as much as you can.
You falter as you come to the end, explaining why you’re here, and who for. Your brother lets out a loud sigh, his back to you and looks out the window while Harry runs a hand through his hair.
“I agree that it’s not fair – Percy’s panicking and this is a stupid solution to his problems but there is no possible way out of it. The fact remains that Draco once did do this and he’s being held accountable now. I’m really sorry but there is very little that we can do,” said Harry, sighing.
You nod your head, it’s true after all – there really is no way out of it but you still had to try. You rise and pick up your coat, ready to leave, when Ron – who’s had his back to you all this time, speaks,
“There is one thing we can do – it’s not much but you’ll probably want to take it. You can make a visit, see him one last time.”
“I would like that very much, Ron,” you say instantly, wanting to take whatever time you can.
Your brother nods grimly and you sit back down while he and Harry think about how to do this without being caught. Behind them you can see the sun beginning to set and only then do you realise how much time has passed. You feel tired now, the events of the last few weeks taking their toll on you. Yet, you wait quietly, declining numerous offers of food and drink, just wanting to know if you will meet him again.
A few hours late when it is totally dark outside and the corridors have become quiet, the two men rise, a plan in hand.
You try to remain quiet after Ron casts the disillusionment charm, the less of you seen or heard the better.
It takes the three of you a nearly fifteen minutes to get down to the basement and to the row of dingy prison cells. To your relief, the guard is asleep and you creep past him. Harry opens the door with a whispered ‘alohomora’ and you tiptoe inside while Harry and Ron remain outside.
Draco is sitting with his head in his hands, and your heart breaks to see him like this. He doesn’t notice you until your crouch down beside him and take his head into your hands. His expression of surprise gives way to utter joy after seeing your face. He presses your hands to his lips. You bite your lip and try not to cry. He spends the next few minutes touching your face – as if he were trying to make sure that you weren’t just another torturous dream.
You want to speak but he leans forward and softly presses his lips to yours. Your eyes watch his and try only to feel the warmth spreading all over you like the appearance of the sun on a cold day. He pulls away and you try not to show the disappointment of the loss of his lips on your face.
“I love you,” he whispers to you.
“Always and always,” you reply, your voice quivering.
You press you forehead to his and close your eyes, just wanting to savour the moment. You feel your tears rolling down your cheeks and when you open your eyes, you see that he too is crying. You remember the countless hardships you both went through, the numerous sacrifices made, only for it all to be taken away in the end and you cry harder – the pain feeling ever so vast and insurmountable. His hands come up to your face and he wipes away your tears with his thumbs.
“How are the children?”
“They ask for you everyday.”
“Tell them I love them very much.”
“I will.”
There is a knock on the door and you both turn to see Harry looking apologetic.
“Sorry Ginny but we had better go now, before we’re caught,” he says gently.
You and Draco both rise up from the stone floor, and he embraces you in a tight hug, and kisses your forehead.
“Remember me.”
“How could I ever forget?,” you whisper back.
You pull gently out of his embrace and walk to the door, turning to give you husband one last look before walking out and letting the door shut behind you. Ron re-casts the charm and the three of you walk back upstairs, and into their office. You hug your brother and Harry and put on your cloak. With a quiet ‘thank you’ you walk out the door, out of the ministry and back into London.
The room you stay in that night is beautiful and luxurious – just what your used to. You don’t notice though, and taking off you clothes you quickly slip into bed, and sleep overcomes you. That night the dreams are of the happiest moments of you life and you drift from the Burrow to the sandy beach in Italy that you walked along countless times.
There are numerous officials here to witness the end today. Their faces don’t reflect your own heartache – they don’t share the same sentiments, and they never will. You slip in the back, carefully choosing a spot that will give you a clear vision of the events. Officials jostle around you, their chattering is ceaseless but you wait quietly, wait for what you hoped never would happen.
They bring him out in plain clothes –his arms tied tightly behind him but, in his usual way, he still manages to look regal and elegant. They make him stand in the centre of the stage and while they ready everything and sign necessary documents his eyes scan the room until he finds you. Your eyes remain locked with his, even when the executioner is reading out his last testament. They steady him and everyone watches, they are now silent and their faces riveted to the blond man standing in the centre. The wand is pointed towards him and he smiles at you, his eyes fixated on yours. Some of the crowd gasp and look away as the green light takes his life away but you look on and watch his lifeless body falls to the ground. There is absolute silence for a minute before whispers begin and people resume talking in hushed voices, but you are already out the room by then.
The sun is shining brightly and your daughter is squealing in delight as the cold waves wash over her feet. You are sitting on the beach, barefooted and silent beside your equally quiet son, the both of you watching the little red-haired girl play. The gentle breeze makes the weather enjoyable and you bask in the rays of the sun. Your son turns his head towards you, and after hesitating a moment speaks clearly, “I miss him, mama.” You look at him and put your arms around him, and you watch you daughter for an instant before replying gently, “I know.” Your children miss their father and you miss your husband and this will never change, and even when you are old you will think back to the times spent with him as your best. But you are Ginevra Malfoy and you are strong, no matter what.
After the children have been put to bed, you try to tear your overindulgent husband away from the hundreds of parchments that litter his desk but he grabs you and holds you tightly against him, his face in your hair and his smile making you feel safe. He lets go after a few moments and goes to remove a small box from his desk.
“I have something for you,” he says slowly walking towards you.
You can’t help but wonder at the contents of the box, and you give him a small smile as he instructs you to close your eyes. You open your eyes when you feel something cool touch your neck, and look in the mirror to see yourself wearing a small silver necklace, and behind you he stands, looking proud, glad and somewhat content at having given you another perfect gift. “You will always remember me, won’t you, Ginny?” he asks, his face serious now.
You want to reassure him that nothing will ever happen, that you both will live out your days here, amongst the vineyards and warm sea but instead you give him the answer he wants, sighing softly, you say “Always and always, Draco.” He nods and although he is no longer smiling, his eyes are bright and you know your answer has given him some strength. He goes back to his endless work and you walk out, onto the empty beach, and stand silently, letting the Italian air warm you as you ponder your future and that of your family.
You wake up before dawn and you can already hear the birds softly twittering and the waves crashing onto rocks. Next to you he sleeps soundly, but with a frown upon his face. You wish you could take his worries away and soothe his fears but you know it is not possible, and so instead you get dressed and begin another day.
You hear the children running back from their lessons and you look up from your book to see them with their governess following behind them. They are already talking animatedly about something when they reach you, their speech a mixture of English and Italian. Your attention is now fully on them, your book lying forgotten on the side. They sit down and you are content to just listen in, smiling at their remarks and jokes. You still remember the days you brought them into this world, nervous and overwhelmed but unbelievably happy. Your son has always been a quiet child, forever following you, standing quietly, even when his sister was born. You know that no matter what else you make regret or wish you could change, there will never be a time in your life when you will want to change or replace them. You can hear the maid calling for lunch and you break out of your thoughts, get up and lead the children to the table. Everyone sits silently for a few minutes, until Draco walks in, smiling apologetically and signalling for lunch to begin. The children begin to tell their father of their day and you sit back and watch him laugh at their jokes and talk happily with them, his worries unapparent. Just as you have all finished, and your plates are being removed by the maid you hear a shout and loud bang, your daughter stops halfway through her story and you all look towards the hallway, the source of the noise. You get up to see what is happening when a dozen men come running in, their wands drawn. Draco throws his napkin down on the table and stands up. You try not to shake as two of the men point their wands straight at you. You know that your prefect life has come to an end.
Draco tells the children to go to their rooms, and you call for one of the maids to take them away. You don’t want your children to see their father being taken away. Your daughter takes the maid’s hand and leaves quietly but your son stands for a few moments trying to understand what is happening and why his father is being held by two serious looking men. You call gently to your son and when he turns to face you, the fear and worry is clearly visible on his face. You try to give him a reassuring smile and tell him to go with his sister. He looks back at his father, who nods in agreement, and then runs after his sister and the maid.
Draco instructs the men to let go of him and to your surprise they do. He turns around to face you and though he says nothing you understand what he means. Your heart wrenches but you smile at him as he is walked out the house and into a waiting car. He looks out the window and smiles back at you. It is only after the car drives away and the silence surrounds you, you realise that tears are running down your cheeks.
You barely have the will to survive the next few days but you try when you realise your son stops talking and lives in his own safe world consisting of both a father and a mother. You are thankful that your daughter is oblivious, used to having her father travel and disappear for days. The sun still shines and the though life seems to continue, for you everything is in disarray and you try to come to terms with not having someone to hold you at night and keep you safe. The burden now falls upon your shoulders and you are unsure, just as you were ten years ago, when you first held your child. You have to be strong just like before.
Days turn into weeks and you hear nothing at all, until an owl appears at your window, informing you of your husband’s fate. You hold the letter tightly in your hand not even letting go when you maid calls you for your bath. Instead you let the parchment turn to pulp in the water and the ink fade away. The words however, remain firmly imprinted in your mind and you say them over and over again.
Death by curse.
You can’t sleep that night, so you walk on the beach, and you are reminded of the many times you both sat here and talked the entire night or laughed and kissed, aware of nothing but each other, and especially of the time when you stood here and vowed to love each other above all else. You just want to see him one more time, just share one more kiss. You can’t help think of your life without him but nothing can come to mind and you realise that you’ve never even thought of a world apart from him and you are scared not by the fact that you won’t survive after he is gone but the idea that you will.
You watch the night turn into day and you can already hear the house becoming alive behind you. You get up and walk back into the house, leaving sand all over the clean floor. The children are still asleep, safely ensconced in their dreams. You kiss them gently and tuck in any outstretched limbs. You make your way to your dressing room, and dress quickly – there’s much to be done today and you’ve never been much of an idler. With everything necessary in hand you apperate to Rome, where a portkey awaits you.
The rush nearly overwhelms you, after having lived in relative isolation for more than a decade, but you push on, determined to succeed with your plan. You walk over and purchase a ticket in your fluent Italian, nodding to the occasional ‘buongiorno’ and ‘scusi’ as people hurry past you. The portkey is on time and you gather around it with a few others. You feel the normal pull and when you open your eyes, you see another busy station but the weather outside shows that you’re back in London. Carefully making your way through the crowds, you take a deep breath and calm yourself before apperating to Strand, and more importantly, to the Ministry of Magic.
The rain is pouring down and you run quickly into an empty street and to the empty telephone box. You press the appropriate buttons and wait for the voice. You try not to let your voice quiver as you state your name and business. A card pops out and you take it before disappearing beneath the ground. Nothing has changed and you feel as if you have been transported back to your fourth year. You get through security without any hassle but with a few odd looks and you make your way towards the lifts.
You walk along the corridor until you reach the door you were looking for, and taking a deep breath you knock sharply on the door and wait. You hear mumbling inside and then a loud laugh before the sound of someone walking to the door.
“Late again, Her-”
You gaze at the man standing before you, looking just as he did many years ago. He stares at you, his mouth agape for a few minutes. You can see a variety of emotions flicker in his eyes – anger, betrayal and finally joy. Before you can speak, he steps forward and encompasses you in a suffocating tight hug. You both stand like this for what seems like an eternity and you feel like ten again, surrounded by love and security.
When you both pull away you see him quickly wipe his eyes with the back of his hand and you feel guilt wash over you. He however cannot stop smiling at you, and you comply when he takes your hand and guides you into his office.
The chaotic appearance of the office is a clear reflection of its occupants. Some things just don’t change, you think to yourself. You look up from the mess to see the boy-who-lived staring at you, his eyes wide.
“Hello Harry,” you whisper. He shakes his head in disbelief but offers his hand, which you take.
You take a seat, sitting on the edge nervously. Nobody speaks for a moment, the shock overpowering them. You decide to speak first; you have little time as it is.
“How’s everyone, Ron? I heard about the wedding Harry – congratulations. I’m sure you both make a lovely couple.”
Your brother speaks first, his voice emotional, “It’s been so long. Why did you stay away? How’ve you been? Why?”
You let out a sigh, and try to explain the last twelve years of your life as quickly as possible. It’s then that it hits you – soon enough you’ll be the only person to remember all these years and shared memories. Choking back a sob, you continue telling your brother and one-time lover as much as you can.
You falter as you come to the end, explaining why you’re here, and who for. Your brother lets out a loud sigh, his back to you and looks out the window while Harry runs a hand through his hair.
“I agree that it’s not fair – Percy’s panicking and this is a stupid solution to his problems but there is no possible way out of it. The fact remains that Draco once did do this and he’s being held accountable now. I’m really sorry but there is very little that we can do,” said Harry, sighing.
You nod your head, it’s true after all – there really is no way out of it but you still had to try. You rise and pick up your coat, ready to leave, when Ron – who’s had his back to you all this time, speaks,
“There is one thing we can do – it’s not much but you’ll probably want to take it. You can make a visit, see him one last time.”
“I would like that very much, Ron,” you say instantly, wanting to take whatever time you can.
Your brother nods grimly and you sit back down while he and Harry think about how to do this without being caught. Behind them you can see the sun beginning to set and only then do you realise how much time has passed. You feel tired now, the events of the last few weeks taking their toll on you. Yet, you wait quietly, declining numerous offers of food and drink, just wanting to know if you will meet him again.
A few hours late when it is totally dark outside and the corridors have become quiet, the two men rise, a plan in hand.
You try to remain quiet after Ron casts the disillusionment charm, the less of you seen or heard the better.
It takes the three of you a nearly fifteen minutes to get down to the basement and to the row of dingy prison cells. To your relief, the guard is asleep and you creep past him. Harry opens the door with a whispered ‘alohomora’ and you tiptoe inside while Harry and Ron remain outside.
Draco is sitting with his head in his hands, and your heart breaks to see him like this. He doesn’t notice you until your crouch down beside him and take his head into your hands. His expression of surprise gives way to utter joy after seeing your face. He presses your hands to his lips. You bite your lip and try not to cry. He spends the next few minutes touching your face – as if he were trying to make sure that you weren’t just another torturous dream.
You want to speak but he leans forward and softly presses his lips to yours. Your eyes watch his and try only to feel the warmth spreading all over you like the appearance of the sun on a cold day. He pulls away and you try not to show the disappointment of the loss of his lips on your face.
“I love you,” he whispers to you.
“Always and always,” you reply, your voice quivering.
You press you forehead to his and close your eyes, just wanting to savour the moment. You feel your tears rolling down your cheeks and when you open your eyes, you see that he too is crying. You remember the countless hardships you both went through, the numerous sacrifices made, only for it all to be taken away in the end and you cry harder – the pain feeling ever so vast and insurmountable. His hands come up to your face and he wipes away your tears with his thumbs.
“How are the children?”
“They ask for you everyday.”
“Tell them I love them very much.”
“I will.”
There is a knock on the door and you both turn to see Harry looking apologetic.
“Sorry Ginny but we had better go now, before we’re caught,” he says gently.
You and Draco both rise up from the stone floor, and he embraces you in a tight hug, and kisses your forehead.
“Remember me.”
“How could I ever forget?,” you whisper back.
You pull gently out of his embrace and walk to the door, turning to give you husband one last look before walking out and letting the door shut behind you. Ron re-casts the charm and the three of you walk back upstairs, and into their office. You hug your brother and Harry and put on your cloak. With a quiet ‘thank you’ you walk out the door, out of the ministry and back into London.
The room you stay in that night is beautiful and luxurious – just what your used to. You don’t notice though, and taking off you clothes you quickly slip into bed, and sleep overcomes you. That night the dreams are of the happiest moments of you life and you drift from the Burrow to the sandy beach in Italy that you walked along countless times.
There are numerous officials here to witness the end today. Their faces don’t reflect your own heartache – they don’t share the same sentiments, and they never will. You slip in the back, carefully choosing a spot that will give you a clear vision of the events. Officials jostle around you, their chattering is ceaseless but you wait quietly, wait for what you hoped never would happen.
They bring him out in plain clothes –his arms tied tightly behind him but, in his usual way, he still manages to look regal and elegant. They make him stand in the centre of the stage and while they ready everything and sign necessary documents his eyes scan the room until he finds you. Your eyes remain locked with his, even when the executioner is reading out his last testament. They steady him and everyone watches, they are now silent and their faces riveted to the blond man standing in the centre. The wand is pointed towards him and he smiles at you, his eyes fixated on yours. Some of the crowd gasp and look away as the green light takes his life away but you look on and watch his lifeless body falls to the ground. There is absolute silence for a minute before whispers begin and people resume talking in hushed voices, but you are already out the room by then.
The sun is shining brightly and your daughter is squealing in delight as the cold waves wash over her feet. You are sitting on the beach, barefooted and silent beside your equally quiet son, the both of you watching the little red-haired girl play. The gentle breeze makes the weather enjoyable and you bask in the rays of the sun. Your son turns his head towards you, and after hesitating a moment speaks clearly, “I miss him, mama.” You look at him and put your arms around him, and you watch you daughter for an instant before replying gently, “I know.” Your children miss their father and you miss your husband and this will never change, and even when you are old you will think back to the times spent with him as your best. But you are Ginevra Malfoy and you are strong, no matter what.
The End.
JuliusCaesar is the author of 6 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 8 members. Members who liked Left behind also liked 1204 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 8 members. Members who liked Left behind also liked 1204 other stories.
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