Part 5: Serendipity
It was a very late night. Jordan had ordered her to stay late again, after he’d thrown a typically public tantrum over something he imagined Ginny had done wrong, and now that everything was ready for his final inspection and for him to count out her bills, she had nothing to do but wait for him to emerge from the back office where he’d sequestered himself ever since his eruption.
Ginny wondered if she should worry about the fact that she barely batted an eye when he blew up at her, and if that meant she’d been too successful at numbing herself. But no, that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t the case at all – because that afternoon, as Jordan had exploded, he had been in the room. She’d felt his eyes on them, watching as he often was from the corner table, and she’d felt something then. Anger, fear, loathing, regret… longing. Jealousy as she noted His Shadow, sitting at his side and chatting congenially, secure in her beauty as she drew many admiring glances from around the room, as he continued to observe. She definitely wasn’t numb, not even close.
She looked up from the ledger where she’d been recording her receipts from the night as heavy footsteps on the wooden slat floors creaked their way towards her. Ginny stiffened immediately when she discovered that it was not Jordan who’d come into the dining room, but The Spirit Lounge’s manager. The one who hadn’t spoken to or actually looked at her since that night he’d seen the scars on her back. He no longer even looked through her, he just didn’t look.
“Where’s Jordan?” she asked, her throat gone incredibly dry.
“Jordan is no longer employed at this establishment,” was the cold, business-like reply. Her eyebrows shot straight up.
“Why not?” she asked, incredulously. While, by all rights, she should have been relieved, she instead felt a distinct sense of panic.
“I dislike the way he’s been treating certain employees,” he responded, with a pointed look in her direction, the first time he’d actually looked at her in weeks. She started, a moment of shock. Then suddenly, the floodgates were open.
“I don’t need you looking out for me or trying to protect me,” she snapped, not willing to even pretend that Jordan’s dismissal had nothing to do with her when she knew, instinctively, it had everything to do with her. “I’ve been on my own for quite awhile, and I can handle myself.”
He stared at her in that assessing manner he had that nearly had her trembling the first time she’d been greeted by its full-force, when she was eleven at Flourish and Blotts. When his father had slipped an enchanted diary into her cauldron.
“You can handle yourself quite well, I can see that,” he commented. She slapped her paperwork down in front of him, and grabbing a dusty rag from behind the counter of the bar, she went about trying to eradicate the persistent cobwebs that clung stubbornly to the light fixtures. She could hear the scratch of his quill against the parchment until after a few minutes had passed, she heard the clipboard crash to the table.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, gesturing around him in disgust. “This isn’t at all the kind of place for your sort. It’s a living tomb for spirits who just haven’t died yet. What are you doing here?”
“My sort is a dying breed, almost completely extinct, so I hardly think it matters,” she commented coldly.
“Handing off ‘packages’ to customers, pretending you don’t know what’s inside… It’s not you and if I see you taking part in that aspect of my business, I’ll have you sacked,” he said, with an air of finality. Ginny stopped what she was doing, throwing down her rag on the nearest table as she stomped towards him.
“So, I finally exist, do I? Have you finally noticed me? Finally decided to acknowledge my presence in your world?” she shouted, tears stinging behind her eyes. “Why now?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said stiffly, averting his eyes.
“You took everything away from me! They are all gone, and I’m still here and all alone and it’s because of you,” she cried out, choking back a sob as her voice broke. “And you won’t even look at me and you pretend as if I’m not even here, as if you never met me before. When you took everything!”
“Ginny.”
“Why? Why won’t you look at me?” she cried out. Draco grabbed her arms, shaking her slightly until she looked up at him. His eyes were dark and clouded. But now that she’d started, she wasn’t able to stop, not until she received an answer, not matter how much the it twisted inside to even ask it, to even acknowledge that it was a question she wanted answered. “You wanted me once, don’t you remember? You watched me all the time. You followed me out to the willow tree that day. But now, I’m scarred and ruined and you can never look at me the same way again!”
“Because it was my fault,” he said harshly, his words like a slap. She gasped as tears slipped down her face. “I planned and lead the attack. I was given the choice of either my family or yours, and I made the only one I could.”
“Then why did you save me?” she shouted. “Why were you out there waiting for me that night? I am tortured by the fact that I knew something was going to happen the night that Dumbledore died and didn’t say anything, and that the same secret that made me keep quiet is the same reason I’m still here while everyone else is gone. Why would you do this to me?”
The grief in her voice seemed to break him, if only for a split second. He’d grown very skilled at hiding his emotions.
“You were the only one who knew. I’m selfish and I'm used to getting what I want, and what I wanted was for the one person who knew what I wasn’t to stay alive. As long as that happened, there was still a chance.”
“Still a chance for what?” she asked, her voice leaden.
“I’m not sure. My soul, perhaps.”
“I can never forgive you for that.”
“It’s not forgiveness I want,” he said. He clasped her face in his hands, drawing it up to face him as he stared intently down at her. Her heart pounding, her mind screaming at her even as that force that made it burn to be too far away from him took over. A desperate, irrational need overwhelmed her, and she grabbed at him, capturing his lips. He responded instantly, pulling her tightly towards him, pressing his body against his as he sought to finish what had been started between them so long ago.
Passion and instinct took over, and they pawed at each other, their clothing chaffing at their skin. In their desperate hurry, they ripped cloth when buttons proved to be too much of an impediment, and as skin touched skin, the force binding them only grew stronger, the burning need to be close, to be one, becoming unbearable until it was at last satisfied.
Afterwards, she had collapsed against him, and thought she might weep from the wonderful feeling of release, of completion. Until his fingers trailed up her spine, brushing lightly against her skin. She shimmied away from his lingering touch on her right shoulder, quick to hide her scarred flesh from his sight, picking her clothing off the dusty floor and ignoring the way he was staring at her. Now that he was looking, she didn’t want to acknowledge it.
“The war left scars on us all. Yours are just physical,” he murmured, pulling away the shirt she’d draped across her shoulders to hide her scars to nuzzle at her with his lips.
“Don’t,” she said, shying away from his touch. He ignored her, pulling her into his lap so that she was facing him, straddling his hips. Cupping her face with both his hands, he looked directly into her eyes, a long searching gaze that made her feel more complete than she had in years, but also filled her with an indescribable fear. After leaning his forehead against hers, he pulled away, his thumb stroking her brow.
“Fate keeps throwing us into each other’s lives, and terrible things happen. I’ve made arrangements so that it won't happen again,” he said. Her body froze at his words, and after a moment, she glanced at him, wounded.
“I’m not going anywhere. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go, or anyone to go to,” she said stiffly. The spell of the afterglow broken, she pulled away from him, standing up, gathering her twice-discarded clothing.
“Do you have any idea how long it’s taken for me to work my way into a position where I could even get this close to you? They watch me a great deal, they don’t trust me. Why do you think they assigned me to manage this place? I may be Upper Management, but this is a dead-end, quite literally a tomb. And I can’t even talk to you freely, because they know who you are and that you somehow managed to survive the fire that killed your family. That I planned and executed.”
“I don’t see where you’re going with this.”
“There is nothing for you here. If I interact with you as anything more than an employee… Silence and invisibility, that would be your life. You need to leave here, and I know exactly where you have to go.”
“And where is that?” she asked, trying not to show how much her legs were trembling. She’d only just gotten a taste of what it was like to be with him, after wondering so long, and feeling horribly guilty and isolated from everyone around her because of that desire - to know, to experience it. And now he wanted her to leave it all behind.
“Your brother and his friends might be alive. The Ministry never found the bodies, and just spread word that they’d been killed, believing it would give them the best chance if no one was looking for them. And I think I know where you can find them.”
“Alive?” she breathed. She closed her eyes, counting to ten as she inhaled and exhaled, hardly able to comprehend what he was telling her. There was a chance they were alive? That she wasn’t alone after all?
“It’s a long shot and it may not pan out, but at least it’s hope, which is better than what you have here. You have to leave tonight – as soon as possible. It might already be too late.”
“Tonight?” she parroted. She continued to gather her now-tattered clothing, dressing haphazardly as she went. He wanted her to leave. “Fine. Show me where to go, and I’ll go.”
And that’s how Ginny Weasley began her stilted walk out of his life.
* * * *
It was a very late night. Jordan had ordered her to stay late again, after he’d thrown a typically public tantrum over something he imagined Ginny had done wrong, and now that everything was ready for his final inspection and for him to count out her bills, she had nothing to do but wait for him to emerge from the back office where he’d sequestered himself ever since his eruption.
Ginny wondered if she should worry about the fact that she barely batted an eye when he blew up at her, and if that meant she’d been too successful at numbing herself. But no, that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t the case at all – because that afternoon, as Jordan had exploded, he had been in the room. She’d felt his eyes on them, watching as he often was from the corner table, and she’d felt something then. Anger, fear, loathing, regret… longing. Jealousy as she noted His Shadow, sitting at his side and chatting congenially, secure in her beauty as she drew many admiring glances from around the room, as he continued to observe. She definitely wasn’t numb, not even close.
She looked up from the ledger where she’d been recording her receipts from the night as heavy footsteps on the wooden slat floors creaked their way towards her. Ginny stiffened immediately when she discovered that it was not Jordan who’d come into the dining room, but The Spirit Lounge’s manager. The one who hadn’t spoken to or actually looked at her since that night he’d seen the scars on her back. He no longer even looked through her, he just didn’t look.
“Where’s Jordan?” she asked, her throat gone incredibly dry.
“Jordan is no longer employed at this establishment,” was the cold, business-like reply. Her eyebrows shot straight up.
“Why not?” she asked, incredulously. While, by all rights, she should have been relieved, she instead felt a distinct sense of panic.
“I dislike the way he’s been treating certain employees,” he responded, with a pointed look in her direction, the first time he’d actually looked at her in weeks. She started, a moment of shock. Then suddenly, the floodgates were open.
“I don’t need you looking out for me or trying to protect me,” she snapped, not willing to even pretend that Jordan’s dismissal had nothing to do with her when she knew, instinctively, it had everything to do with her. “I’ve been on my own for quite awhile, and I can handle myself.”
He stared at her in that assessing manner he had that nearly had her trembling the first time she’d been greeted by its full-force, when she was eleven at Flourish and Blotts. When his father had slipped an enchanted diary into her cauldron.
“You can handle yourself quite well, I can see that,” he commented. She slapped her paperwork down in front of him, and grabbing a dusty rag from behind the counter of the bar, she went about trying to eradicate the persistent cobwebs that clung stubbornly to the light fixtures. She could hear the scratch of his quill against the parchment until after a few minutes had passed, she heard the clipboard crash to the table.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, gesturing around him in disgust. “This isn’t at all the kind of place for your sort. It’s a living tomb for spirits who just haven’t died yet. What are you doing here?”
“My sort is a dying breed, almost completely extinct, so I hardly think it matters,” she commented coldly.
“Handing off ‘packages’ to customers, pretending you don’t know what’s inside… It’s not you and if I see you taking part in that aspect of my business, I’ll have you sacked,” he said, with an air of finality. Ginny stopped what she was doing, throwing down her rag on the nearest table as she stomped towards him.
“So, I finally exist, do I? Have you finally noticed me? Finally decided to acknowledge my presence in your world?” she shouted, tears stinging behind her eyes. “Why now?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said stiffly, averting his eyes.
“You took everything away from me! They are all gone, and I’m still here and all alone and it’s because of you,” she cried out, choking back a sob as her voice broke. “And you won’t even look at me and you pretend as if I’m not even here, as if you never met me before. When you took everything!”
“Ginny.”
“Why? Why won’t you look at me?” she cried out. Draco grabbed her arms, shaking her slightly until she looked up at him. His eyes were dark and clouded. But now that she’d started, she wasn’t able to stop, not until she received an answer, not matter how much the it twisted inside to even ask it, to even acknowledge that it was a question she wanted answered. “You wanted me once, don’t you remember? You watched me all the time. You followed me out to the willow tree that day. But now, I’m scarred and ruined and you can never look at me the same way again!”
“Because it was my fault,” he said harshly, his words like a slap. She gasped as tears slipped down her face. “I planned and lead the attack. I was given the choice of either my family or yours, and I made the only one I could.”
“Then why did you save me?” she shouted. “Why were you out there waiting for me that night? I am tortured by the fact that I knew something was going to happen the night that Dumbledore died and didn’t say anything, and that the same secret that made me keep quiet is the same reason I’m still here while everyone else is gone. Why would you do this to me?”
The grief in her voice seemed to break him, if only for a split second. He’d grown very skilled at hiding his emotions.
“You were the only one who knew. I’m selfish and I'm used to getting what I want, and what I wanted was for the one person who knew what I wasn’t to stay alive. As long as that happened, there was still a chance.”
“Still a chance for what?” she asked, her voice leaden.
“I’m not sure. My soul, perhaps.”
“I can never forgive you for that.”
“It’s not forgiveness I want,” he said. He clasped her face in his hands, drawing it up to face him as he stared intently down at her. Her heart pounding, her mind screaming at her even as that force that made it burn to be too far away from him took over. A desperate, irrational need overwhelmed her, and she grabbed at him, capturing his lips. He responded instantly, pulling her tightly towards him, pressing his body against his as he sought to finish what had been started between them so long ago.
Passion and instinct took over, and they pawed at each other, their clothing chaffing at their skin. In their desperate hurry, they ripped cloth when buttons proved to be too much of an impediment, and as skin touched skin, the force binding them only grew stronger, the burning need to be close, to be one, becoming unbearable until it was at last satisfied.
Afterwards, she had collapsed against him, and thought she might weep from the wonderful feeling of release, of completion. Until his fingers trailed up her spine, brushing lightly against her skin. She shimmied away from his lingering touch on her right shoulder, quick to hide her scarred flesh from his sight, picking her clothing off the dusty floor and ignoring the way he was staring at her. Now that he was looking, she didn’t want to acknowledge it.
“The war left scars on us all. Yours are just physical,” he murmured, pulling away the shirt she’d draped across her shoulders to hide her scars to nuzzle at her with his lips.
“Don’t,” she said, shying away from his touch. He ignored her, pulling her into his lap so that she was facing him, straddling his hips. Cupping her face with both his hands, he looked directly into her eyes, a long searching gaze that made her feel more complete than she had in years, but also filled her with an indescribable fear. After leaning his forehead against hers, he pulled away, his thumb stroking her brow.
“Fate keeps throwing us into each other’s lives, and terrible things happen. I’ve made arrangements so that it won't happen again,” he said. Her body froze at his words, and after a moment, she glanced at him, wounded.
“I’m not going anywhere. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go, or anyone to go to,” she said stiffly. The spell of the afterglow broken, she pulled away from him, standing up, gathering her twice-discarded clothing.
“Do you have any idea how long it’s taken for me to work my way into a position where I could even get this close to you? They watch me a great deal, they don’t trust me. Why do you think they assigned me to manage this place? I may be Upper Management, but this is a dead-end, quite literally a tomb. And I can’t even talk to you freely, because they know who you are and that you somehow managed to survive the fire that killed your family. That I planned and executed.”
“I don’t see where you’re going with this.”
“There is nothing for you here. If I interact with you as anything more than an employee… Silence and invisibility, that would be your life. You need to leave here, and I know exactly where you have to go.”
“And where is that?” she asked, trying not to show how much her legs were trembling. She’d only just gotten a taste of what it was like to be with him, after wondering so long, and feeling horribly guilty and isolated from everyone around her because of that desire - to know, to experience it. And now he wanted her to leave it all behind.
“Your brother and his friends might be alive. The Ministry never found the bodies, and just spread word that they’d been killed, believing it would give them the best chance if no one was looking for them. And I think I know where you can find them.”
“Alive?” she breathed. She closed her eyes, counting to ten as she inhaled and exhaled, hardly able to comprehend what he was telling her. There was a chance they were alive? That she wasn’t alone after all?
“It’s a long shot and it may not pan out, but at least it’s hope, which is better than what you have here. You have to leave tonight – as soon as possible. It might already be too late.”
“Tonight?” she parroted. She continued to gather her now-tattered clothing, dressing haphazardly as she went. He wanted her to leave. “Fine. Show me where to go, and I’ll go.”
And that’s how Ginny Weasley began her stilted walk out of his life.
* * * *
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