I Apparated home from the Pearsons' in a bit of a daze. Whatever I'd expected from my new hobby, a civil Draco Malfoy was never part of the picture. More than that, he'd been pleasant. It made me wonder if my view of him all these years had been colored more by Harry's dislike of him than his actual behavior.
I was surprised when I opened the front door to find that Harry had ordered from the local pizzeria. At least I didn't have to cook.
He was situated on the sofa, pizza box open on the table in front of him and the television set to a rugby match. "'Bout as boring as you expected?" he mumbled around a slice of pizza. His eyes never left the television set.
I looked at him and sighed, wondering why he bothered to say anything at all if he wasn't interested in my answer. "I had a lovely time." I waited until he picked up his water glass to add, "Met Draco Malfoy there. We had a nice little chat."
Was I evil for doing that? Maybe, but my maiden name is Weasley, remember? Somewhere, I'm sure Fred's soul is cackling loudly at the thought.
He choked and began to cough water everywhere. "Wha'?" he wheezed, mopping at his chest. "Malfoy?"
I sat next to him primly. "Yes, Malfoy. He's part of the gardening club, and he was perfectly nice."
Mostly recovered, Harry pointed a finger at me. "Ha ha, Ginny, very funny. You got me."
I raised my eyebrows and stared at him the way I did the kids when they were being deliberately obtuse. "I'm serious."
Harry started to laugh. "Oh, that's rich. Malfoy hanging out with a bunch of little old ladies, rhapsodizing about his prize orchids." He snorted. "Is he completely bald yet?" Collapsing against the back of the sofa, he dissolved into laughter, clutching his sides. "If there's a God, he'll be as bald as a Bludger by now."
I was flabbergasted. So much for trying to get Harry interested in whether I enjoyed myself- he was far more intent on developing a mental image of Draco Malfoy. I admit I was a little annoyed. "He's not at all bald, Harry."
"Rubbish, you say," he giggled.
Yes, my thirty-seven year old husband giggled. So sad, and yet it only goaded me into defending a man I'd spoken to for less than ten minutes. "That receding hairline you've been harping on for two years now is nothing more than his hair pulled back in a too-tight ponytail, Harry, and we both know it. Besides that, he was looking rather trim." I leant across the pizza box and poked him in the stomach. "Unlike some other wizards I know."
The conversation fizzled and died in a matter of moments after that, but I'm still glad I said it. Really, after two whole years, why was Harry still so obsessed with Draco Malfoy's hair? Luna thinks it's because he secretly always wanted to be a blond, but I'm pretty sure it boils down to plain old schoolboy pettiness.
I left him to his pizza and rugby and went upstairs to curl up with a book, but I ended up staring out the window and wondering why it still hurt to have Harry more interested in a match than my activities. You'd think I'd be used to it by now.
I considered my conversation with Draco Malfoy many times over the course of the next week. Like the existence of Luna's as-yet still unproven Wrackspurts, thoughts of how a couple could separate after so many years plagued me, buzzing around my brain.
I was shopping for Christmas gifts with Hermione when I finally corralled enough nerve to broach the topic with someone that knew and loved both Harry and me. "Hermione," I began, hesitant as we shuffled through the snow that blanketed Diagon Alley, "do you think people change over time?"
She riffled through her handbag as she answered. "Of course, Gin. We all change. That's part of growing up." Drawing a lengthy list from the bag's depth, she chuckled as she perused its contents. "You're a little young to be having a mid-life crisis, though. What's on your mind?"
Holding two enormous bags prevented me from wringing my hands, but oh, how I wanted to. "It's just that, erm, things between Harry and I are so strained."
Hermione never missed a step; she just took my elbow and guided us straight to Hannah's House of Tea. Once ensconced in a cozy booth with steaming mugs of hot chocolate, she reached over to cover my hand with her own. "I know things are changing for you guys, Gin. Harry came to me for advice some time back, but he never mentioned it again after he returned my book. I thought you two had worked through whatever was wrong."
It's funny. After more than three months of wondering what was wrong with me that I suddenly wasn't satisfied with my husband after twenty years together, I still hadn't broken down in tears about it. Hermione's hand on mine was the first time I felt tears prickle the back of my throat. "I feel like I don't know anything anymore, Hermione. My whole life, ever since I was ten, all I wanted was to marry Harry. And then I did, and things were great. We were friends, lovers, and parents together, and I never once questioned if things would ever be different." I sniffled a little, but proudly refused to let the tears chasing around my eyes fall. "Once Lily left, I -no, that's not fair- we realized that while we were still parents, we weren't friends or lovers anymore."
She made a comforting sound and pulled me into a hug. "Ssh, it's all right. Every couple faces challenges in their relationship."
I sat up quickly. "That's just it, though. I don't think this is the same. We've fought over the years." A small smile touched my lips as I recalled some of our more spectacular rows. "But things were always able to be put to rights in the end- even the time I kicked him out for a week."
"And let me deal with the astounding mess, I might add," Hermione said tartly. "After Ron and I sent him home to you, I vowed that he'd never camp out at our place again." She pulled an exasperated face. "Honestly, why would Harry think that it's okay to leave his dirty underpants on my bathroom floor?"
I laughed, because the memories of that episode were just too amusing, even after all these years. "I hadn't completely domesticated him in those days. Believe it or not, Harry can do a load of wash on his own now." Patting her arm, I added, "He even can even fold it, too."
Hermione gave me a warm smile. "I hit the jackpot with your brother; I think your mum pounded household spells into his brain for so many years that he's a better housekeeper than I am." She blew on her steaming mug. "If it wouldn't demolish his pride, I'd have asked him to be a stay-at-home Dad years ago."
I snorted. "Well, he's perfectly thrilled acting like an eight year old with George over at the joke shop, so even if you pitched it to him now, I don't think he'd buy."
Fondly, Hermione said, "No, I'm pretty sure he'll be puttering around that place until he sticks a foot in the grave." She pinned me with a serious look. "But we're not discussing Ron's retirement plans, Gin, we're talking about you and Harry, and how to fix whatever's wrong."
Sobering, I fiddled with a little shaker of cinnamon. "Do you think you and Ron will be together forever?"
"Yes, I do. We work hard at our marriage sometimes because we're such different types of people, but there's no one else I'd rather be with."
Her words reminded me of all the things I missed. "That's just it," I whispered. "Neither Harry nor I feel like that anymore, and we're not sure when that changed." I ignored her look. "That book you gave Harry was great- it had all sorts of wonderful tips about communication and getting to know one another all over again, but the problem is, neither of us loves the person the other has become."
Drawing in a deep breath, Hermione nodded. It looked like she was trying very hard to stem the eruption of advice that wanted to pour from her mouth. "Are you sure he feels that way, too?"
I dropped my head back against the booth and studied the ceiling. "We gave up last month, Hermione, both of us. He works late, has dinner meetings with various Ministry members at least twice a week and goes to bed as early as he possibly can. I actually look for weekend plans just to get away from him. Does that sound like a couple that can fix their relationship?"
If nothing else, Hermione is stubborn. "You can always fix things between you, if you want it enough."
"I don't think I do." There- I'd said it out loud at last. It was both exhilarating and incredibly terrifying.
She gaped at me. "What are you saying, Ginny?"
Feeling infinitely lighter for having told someone the truth, I looked up to tell her that I wanted to ask Harry for a divorce. Hermione stared at me, face white, looking as if she was waiting to be punched in the mouth. My stomach dropped. I'd thought that ending our marriage was between Harry and me. I was so very wrong.
"Ginny?" she prompted with fearful eyes.
I swallowed the words I wanted to say. "I don't know yet, Hermione. I think Harry and I need to sit down and really discuss our future together, instead of just pretending that we're boarders in the same house."
She nodded jerkily, but her brown eyes were still a touch too wide. "I love you both; you know that. That's why I'm going to ask you to do one thing, Gin: really try to work things out. Don't just give up because it's the easy thing to do."
"I'll try."
When Harry came home that night, I knew immediately that he'd had a Floo call from Hermione. He kept shooting me little glances all through dinner as if he expected me to draw my wand and hit him with an Unforgivable.
Strangely, I didn't hold it against Hermione that she'd run straight to Harry with what I'd told her. Even though Hermione and I had been close for the better part of twenty-five years, she was one of his best friends. She'd literally been to hell and back with him. I suppose I'd choose him as well if I were in her shoes.
The one thing it did make me realize is that all of my friends have become his over the years, and that the reverse is true for his friends, too. Shocking, but out of everyone I talk to on even a semi-regular basis, I can't name a single person that wouldn't have divided loyalties over this.
I resolved to do something about that as soon as possible. In the meantime, I set my fork aside and looked at Harry. He was staring at me with that same fearful expression I'd seen in Hermione's eyes earlier. "We need to talk," I said quietly. "Really talk, Harry."
At my words, he seemed to gather himself. "I know." He pushed away his plate and set his elbows on the table. "I spoke to Hermione today," he began. "And she said that she was sorry if you felt like she betrayed your confidence, but she really wanted us to be prepared for a discussion about our future."
I smiled gently at him. "I'm not angry, Harry; I know Hermione only did what she felt was best. It's just sad that we needed her snitching on me to have this talk at all."
He pursed his lips. "It's odd." He looked over my shoulder, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. "Being an orphan and growing up with the Dursleys, I always knew that if I married and had kids, I'd make sure their lives were perfect. And there you were, bright and shiny and so talented, telling me that you'd loved me since you were just a kid." I tried to interrupt, but he raised a hand. "Please, let me finish.
"There you were, Gin, everything I realized I wanted in a wife, and I thought that we were surely a match made in heaven. I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted you to stay home with the kids and give them the wonderful rearing you got from your mum, and I wanted to make a difference in the Ministry and revolutionize the Wizarding World. I wanted so many things, and I don't know exactly when I lost track of the fact that keeping romance alive between us was one of the things I neglected so I had time to do all those other things."
I nodded, twirling my napkin. "I know, Harry. We did such a good job of building the perfect life. It's not fair that it should all be crumbling because we forgot one thing."
Harry frowned down at the table. "How could we forget us?" He sounded so lost. "How did we stop being in love with each other?"
I wanted to get up and hug him; he looked so forlorn and alone at the other end of the table. "I still care about you, Harry. I still love you enough that I want to see you happy; the problem is this-" I waved at us. "- this doesn't make you happy anymore, and it doesn't make me happy, either. It's not fair that we stay unhappy just because everyone thinks we've got the perfect life."
"What about the kids?" he whispered tiredly, removing his spectacles and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We can't just up and announce that Mum and Dad are splitting when they come home Saturday. It'd destroy not just Christmas, but the rest of their school year. Hell, it might destroy their entire world if we go about this the wrong way."
He had a point. I'd lived like this with Harry for months now; what were a few more? "We'll wait until they come home for summer hols," I decided, and he nodded in approval. "Until then, I'd like to try to discuss how we'll work everything out so there's no conflict in front of the children. I want it to be a done deal so we can show them that we still love them as much as ever and that we can be friendly to one another."
"You've been thinking about this awhile, haven't you?" Harry's green eyes shimmered, and for a moment I thought it was that his eyes were filled with tears. They weren't. Mine were.
He came around to hug me, and we stood there in our dining room, clinging to each other like children in the dark, petrified of what waited under the bed- divorce.
What a bloody scary monster it is.
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