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“She just… ran.”
In all the time he had known her, be that as enemy, friend or even lover, he had never known her to run. Not from him, in all his raging glory, not from her family and friends –even when they threatened to leave her behind, disown her even- not even from the impending war. It simply wasn’t her to run away from anything. Or so he had thought. For now that he had confronted her with what he had found, she had run. Run for her happiness, for her self-made life… from her addiction.
He had run after her of course, refusing to believe what was standing in front of him, too stubborn to understand it, to accept it. Alcohol. She was addicted to alcohol. When he cornered her near the caves of their house, she didn’t fight him anymore. He was shell-shocked to find out that what he had found hadn’t been all. Drugs. She had led a double-life all this time.
He yelled at her. Called her stupid for ruining her life. Their life. How long had this been going on? Two years, she told him. Ever since the final battle. Seeing Harry crash down, hearing the news of the death of all her brothers, finding out she was the only Weasley left… She had been battered, her life laid in shatters before her. Alcohol and drugs had been her saviors, her companions. At first. She had tried to quit, he had to believe her, he had to! He could still hear her begging, still saw her silent tears. And he knew. Knew he couldn’t leave her like this. Not her. Not his wife. Not his life.
“I brought her to a special Muggle centre.’
She had finally accepted help. Day in, day out he saw her struggle, tried to sooth her on her good days, watched her trash her room on her bad days.
One year, two months and 3 days. 427 days. 10248 hours. And then… she gave up for the last time.
“They found her in her own blood, lying on the floor.’
She had cut her wrists, had left him a letter. She couldn’t handle it anymore. ‘I love you Dray, but I’ve caused you so much pain… My heart simply doesn’t feel whole anymore.’
She’d left him for good. And now, he was saying goodbye for the last time.
“I love you, Ginevra Malfoy.”
She was his Juliet, his One and Only, his Everything. They had talked about children, had kidded that with her temper and his pride, they would be the worst brats ever. But they would always be their brats. He now understood why she always wanted to ‘wait a little longer’. He’d always thought that she just wanted to have her career ready and set, so that she could show everyone that, yes, it was possible to have a career and a life, thank you very much. Now he saw that it had always been her traitors that had stood between them and children, and not her career and children. And he couldn’t stand it anymore himself.
“I’ve always loved you, maybe too much, I don’t know. Maybe I… maybe I just wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most.”
He saw her friends, saw Blaise Zabini who was looking at him with something akin to fear in his eyes, and walked away. At least Zabini would understand him. Would understand that he’d lost it, lost it all, his fabulous life, his future. They’d promised each other till Death does us part, and he’d waited long enough. He didn’t want Death to part them, but knew that he couldn’t get her back. So he’d just have to go to her. Simple really.
Everything was set: his Will, in which he left everything to the Muggle centre, so that they could help more people like her; the letter in which he told their whole story to Blaise and whoever he let it read; his gun. Funny that, how he’d come to appreciate all things Muggle ever since he’d brought his Ginny to the centre. Muggle filth had stolen his wife, and now it would steal his life. His father would turn in his grave, but he thought it fitting.
For a last time, he let his eyes wander through the room in which both he and Ginny had spent so much time, dreaming, laughing, making love. He could almost see the light in her eyes when he told her how much he loved her, could almost smell her perfume, the one he’d given her on their first date. He could almost imagine her sitting next to him. And he could almost feel how she reached out to him from the next life.
In all the time he had known her, be that as enemy, friend or even lover, he had never known her to run. Not from him, in all his raging glory, not from her family and friends –even when they threatened to leave her behind, disown her even- not even from the impending war. It simply wasn’t her to run away from anything. Or so he had thought. For now that he had confronted her with what he had found, she had run. Run for her happiness, for her self-made life… from her addiction.
He had run after her of course, refusing to believe what was standing in front of him, too stubborn to understand it, to accept it. Alcohol. She was addicted to alcohol. When he cornered her near the caves of their house, she didn’t fight him anymore. He was shell-shocked to find out that what he had found hadn’t been all. Drugs. She had led a double-life all this time.
He yelled at her. Called her stupid for ruining her life. Their life. How long had this been going on? Two years, she told him. Ever since the final battle. Seeing Harry crash down, hearing the news of the death of all her brothers, finding out she was the only Weasley left… She had been battered, her life laid in shatters before her. Alcohol and drugs had been her saviors, her companions. At first. She had tried to quit, he had to believe her, he had to! He could still hear her begging, still saw her silent tears. And he knew. Knew he couldn’t leave her like this. Not her. Not his wife. Not his life.
“I brought her to a special Muggle centre.’
She had finally accepted help. Day in, day out he saw her struggle, tried to sooth her on her good days, watched her trash her room on her bad days.
One year, two months and 3 days. 427 days. 10248 hours. And then… she gave up for the last time.
“They found her in her own blood, lying on the floor.’
She had cut her wrists, had left him a letter. She couldn’t handle it anymore. ‘I love you Dray, but I’ve caused you so much pain… My heart simply doesn’t feel whole anymore.’
She’d left him for good. And now, he was saying goodbye for the last time.
“I love you, Ginevra Malfoy.”
She was his Juliet, his One and Only, his Everything. They had talked about children, had kidded that with her temper and his pride, they would be the worst brats ever. But they would always be their brats. He now understood why she always wanted to ‘wait a little longer’. He’d always thought that she just wanted to have her career ready and set, so that she could show everyone that, yes, it was possible to have a career and a life, thank you very much. Now he saw that it had always been her traitors that had stood between them and children, and not her career and children. And he couldn’t stand it anymore himself.
“I’ve always loved you, maybe too much, I don’t know. Maybe I… maybe I just wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most.”
He saw her friends, saw Blaise Zabini who was looking at him with something akin to fear in his eyes, and walked away. At least Zabini would understand him. Would understand that he’d lost it, lost it all, his fabulous life, his future. They’d promised each other till Death does us part, and he’d waited long enough. He didn’t want Death to part them, but knew that he couldn’t get her back. So he’d just have to go to her. Simple really.
Everything was set: his Will, in which he left everything to the Muggle centre, so that they could help more people like her; the letter in which he told their whole story to Blaise and whoever he let it read; his gun. Funny that, how he’d come to appreciate all things Muggle ever since he’d brought his Ginny to the centre. Muggle filth had stolen his wife, and now it would steal his life. His father would turn in his grave, but he thought it fitting.
For a last time, he let his eyes wander through the room in which both he and Ginny had spent so much time, dreaming, laughing, making love. He could almost see the light in her eyes when he told her how much he loved her, could almost smell her perfume, the one he’d given her on their first date. He could almost imagine her sitting next to him. And he could almost feel how she reached out to him from the next life.
The End.
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This story is a favorite of 1 members. Members who liked Her scattered life also liked 167 other stories.
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