More Than Anyone

I’m gonna love you more than anyone…

Chapter 4 – What I Miss

“My feelings for you shame me into silence.

The trust of this and your name will never

be revealed. It is you who has made me

realize the failure of my life. The thought of you

fills me with longing and at the same time,

A burning humiliation that produces

scar tissue and dead brain cells.

Your existence mocks me and I am unable

so confront this.

None of this is your fault.

It is completely with me.

It is you who makes me see what I really am.

I am weak and out of touch with myself.”

-Henry Rollins

Draco decided that what he missed the most about his days in Grimmauld Place was staring at Ginny.

He confirmed it by doing nothing at all but look at her as she studied her surroundings, ignoring the tinkling laughter of well-dressed women on other tables and the distinct laughter of wealthy men. She did not look uncomfortable, despite the fact that if seated beside any of those women she’d look incredibly ridiculous in her working jeans and unadorned sweatshirt. In fact, she seemed rather amused by the scenario. He shouldn’t have expected her to be insecure. After all, he’d never seen her fazed in front of opulence, or be intimidated by anyone – much less Draco himself – even if a haughty person might remark that she looked as though she belonged to a factory.

“It’s only lunch time and women here are dressed like they’re going to a midnight ball,” she said softly so that only he could hear and smiled as she did so, her brown eyes twinkling with barely suppressed mirth.

The bistro was small but elegant-looking. It didn’t reek of wealth; it diffused the smell through the different fragrances of men and women. It was evident in the customers’ sophisticated gestures, the women’s coiffed hair and their jewellery. It was the type of place Draco and his friends frequented and the type that Ginny and her friends most probably snorted and rolled their eyes at.

As a diversion, he reached for a glass of water poured by a waiter while trying to regain his senses and quickly wracking his brain for anything intelligible to say. “Maybe they are,” he finally settled to say. It sounded like something he would normally say and he thought it worked well for Ginny grinned wider.

She flicked her red hair to the back of her right shoulder, exposing her white neck. Draco found himself taking another inaudible swallow, his unreadable eyes never wavering from the expanse of skin. There was a small wound near her chin that was near to closing and Draco couldn’t help but wonder how Ginny got it. She was saying something but he couldn’t quite catch it, so with great mental force, he focused his attention to whatever she was going on about.

“-because they could easily ruin the dress before midnight so it’s clear that they’re just over-dressing,” she finished, shrugging her shoulders.

She frowned and cocked her head to the side, looking at him quizzically. He cleared his throat, feeling uneasy under her scrutiny, and laid his glass back on the table. He then leaned back against his chair, pulling his leg to rest his calf on his other knee. He raised an eyebrow at her then imitated the tilting of her head. She rolled her eyes but nonetheless looked concerned… and slightly peeved.

“Were you listening to what I was saying?” she asked him, point-blank.

No, he wasn’t. But it would not bode well to admit his inattentiveness to Ginny. He tried to remember the parts that he did hear and concluded she was telling him that the women were just simply over-dressed.

“Of course,” he told her. He didn’t want to repeat anything she said for he might easily get caught. She narrowed her eyes and nodded her head, albeit suspiciously.

“Then what did I just say, Draco?” she smirked smugly and crossed her arms. Her expression obviously said ‘caught you.’

He smirked then but it slightly faltered when she blinked; looking suddenly lost and when she looked away her cheeks were glowing pink. He interpreted it as annoyance. He hadn’t said anything yet but he felt like he was already ruining it. He wanted to salvage it, feeling that if this was his only chance to win over any affection from Ginny, then he would damn take it.

“They’re not over-dressed, they’re just always dressed that way,” he said smoothly, pleased when she looked taken-aback, then embarrassed. She was clearly not expecting an answer.

He continued to look at her unabashedly, amused with her as her expression changed until it settled to a blank one. The waiter returned then and handed Draco and Ginny their menus. It was customary for the man to be the one to order and since Ginny looked lost with the French names of food, he took the liberty to order for the both of them, then left Ginny to order her beverage.

“Why do they need to?” she asked him curiously, chewing on her bottom lip as she narrowed her eyes while she read the names on the menu, sometimes murmuring them under her breath.

He shrugged, careful not to rumple his clothes. “It shows your status in life,” he explained in a tone that suggested naturalness.

Ginny rolled her eyes and snorted. Draco cleared his throat and was relieved to see that the tables were far away from each other and he had been right to choose a window-side table. Most of the crowd that ate there were in the middle of the restaurant, there was a very slim chance anyone would hear the undignified sound Ginny had just emitted. She busied herself for a while, fumbling with her napkin and settling it on her lap, smoothing out the creases.

“Why do they have to do that?” Ginny wanted to know and Draco found her brown eyes that were so innocently questioning endearing. “Why do you have to do that?”

He didn’t know how to answer her question correctly. There was no simple explanation as to why the rich acted the way they did. They understood it as culture and they took to heart every single rule of etiquette and followed them their whole lives. Proclaimed ‘bad boys’ of wealthy upbringing still knew how to hold a knife correctly and which spoon to use despite their ‘roughness.’ They would even hold a door open for a lady completely on impulse. It was just how they did things and Draco never understood why people thought too much about it. It wasn’t like the rich bothered to scrutinise the ways of the middle-class … which was why he found it so absurd whenever the media praised him for his great ‘spoon-handling’ – which he took as a compliment to his table manners.

How would he answer her? He could just shrug his shoulders and tell her not to bother him with stupid questions, but knew that the glass full of water in front of him might drench his expensive robes if he did and a huge scene was not what he wanted for lunch.

So he settled for a vague answer. An answer that would still be correct yet would muddle her mind. It wasn’t as if he wanted to delude her or make her think that all of the rich people were pompous.

He took his glass and gulped, noting that Ginny’s eyes were on him the entire time. It didn’t make him very uneasy as it had moments ago. In fact, he took a small pleasure knowing she was looking at him.

“So that they would remember their place,” he finally said. For a second, Ginny looked like she was about to tackle him to the ground and shriek, ‘that’s it?’ but then she rolled her eyes and held her head back and laughed, as if she knew and understood perfectly what he was talking about. Her laughter was wonderful to his ears, even though it was a bit loud and it didn’t tinkle - he liked it for the fact that she didn’t laugh because she wanted him to look (unlike the women he usually spent his extra time with) but because she was actually pleased.

And it ended up making him feel pleased too.

OxOxOxOxO

The loud angry sound of water pouring in quick, successive droplets that pelted every exposed surface in what felt like the whole of London pierced everyone’s ears. Draco had his gloved hands poised on either side of his waist as he glared at the dark angry sky.

Beside him Ginny was trying to stifle another snort.

Draco didn’t bother turning is head. He gave her a sideways glance with the eyebrow she could see arched high. Ginny grinned widely.

“You look like you’re ready to chastise the sky for raining,” she said, unable to stop sharing her thoughts with him. It was so easy to tell him without restraint anything that popped into her head. A small smirk was almost forming in his rosy lips that seemed to glow from his pale face, before he turned to face her and look down at her from his haughty, man-skyscraper height. It must be nice for him to know that she looked up at him, despite having no other options; he probably took it as an odd show of respect. She stifled a giggle from the pun. Draco continued to emulate a look of intimidating masculinity. Perhaps there was something wrong with Ginny because it almost came across to her as adorable.

“Now admit to me, Ginny,” he suddenly proclaimed. There should have been a crackle of thunder from the sky for dramatic effect. His glowing skin should have been illuminated by the contrasting darkness after lightning and… Ginny couldn't concentrate. Not when her scalp felt cold and pinprick-y after inhaling his perfume that intermingled with the smell of rain quite wonderfully. She forced herself to exhale sharply to get it out of her system. To get him out of her system. Ginny’s eyebrows both raised in confusion as she tried to focus on what Draco was saying. “… that you have an unlucky birthmark on your bottom that has caused this unholy rain upon us.”

She was too baffled to speak. What could she possibly retort to such an accusation? “W-what? I don’t have a birthmark on my bottom!” she sputtered, cheeks aflame. He had already turned away from her, his countenance seeming more pleased than a while ago. She huffed in irritation. “Maybe you do!” she shot back.

“Well, I may have one, as you’ve suggested,” he agreed so pleasantly that it made her suspicious. He turned to level his gaze with hers, a sly glint in his eyes. “Would you like to check for me?” he asked innocently, his tone contrasting against his facial expression. His smirk was so wide and utterly pompous. Ginny wanted to pinch his cheek hard, just to see how he would react.

“No. I do not want nightmares, thank you,” she answered primly, looking away with a frown. Bollocks, she thought; her mouth was fighting the frown she had set upon it. Her lips were twitching up and she felt like laughing. Count on Draco to lighten up the atmosphere with his own brand of humour. Her face was burning up already, and she could imagine in her mind’s eye how red her face must be at the moment.

Worst, she kept on sneaking glances at his aforementioned bottom. His smirk said all too well that he knew the direction of her gaze. She glared at him and muttered “asshole” under her breath - which he unfortunately overheard.

“Your mind never strays too far away from my arse, now does it, Ginny? It’s not too late, you know. The offer is still available… just that –” he blinked and the smirk faded. He didn’t continue.

What? “Well, just that what?” she demanded, annoyed that he had left the statement hanging. It suddenly dawned upon her that it would have been connected to Harry. Right. She had a boyfriend. Ginny suddenly felt the urged to smack herself.

She peeked at Draco warily. He was staring determinedly at a point in front of him, grey eyes tinged a bit with blue. His platinum blond hair, his chiselled features, and his white skin that practically glowed… everything about him was different from Harry. It alarmed her how much she could get herself so immersed in him that she would forget all notion of the man that she – she blinked. She couldn’t even muster the thought of loving Harry in Draco’s presence. It was as if her legitimate romantic relationship with Harry Potter was illicit compared to the unlabeled thing that she has with Draco.

Her heart started to beat rapidly and she struggled to breathe. She stole a quick glance at him again. Ginny shook her head then ran a hand through her untangled red hair. What she felt for him at this moment and the absence of that feeling for Harry troubled her. She honestly couldn’t understand why it was so easy to be comfortable with Draco even after four years of not hearing from him at all, when there would be awkward moments that passed with Harry when they reunited after only a few weeks of absence.

She shook her head, willing the straying thoughts to vanish from her confounded mind. There were few sounds that weren’t swallowed by the loud noise of rain. She couldn’t catch the words a valet was sharing with a waiter behind her. But she could hear Draco’s sigh of exasperation directed at the weather when it wasn’t as loud. She was so aware of him that it unsettled her. Her lips buzzed with the memory of his lips brushing with her. Four years ago. And she still couldn’t forget it.

A straight black blur dashed past her, millimetres away from her nose, eliciting a small squeal from her. Beside her, Draco caught it by the handle and presented it in front of her with a triumphant smirk. An umbrella, her mind screamed at her. She let out a nervous giggle, wide eyes regarding the long black umbrella suspiciously.

“Umbrella,” she said, pointing a finger at it.

“Wonderful deduction, Ginny. Your keen observations must have helped win you the Snitch during your fifth year,” Draco said in jovial sarcasm. He took hold of her by the elbow, and then hooked her arm in his. “And now, we are going to trudge in the rain towards your brothers’ shop.” Ginny glared at him and fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him childishly.

Their umbrella was at once pelted by miniscule droplets of the sky’s tears when they stepped out of the charming bistro. Ginny nearly tripped because of the slippery floor, thankfully biting her tongue before she let out a flurry of colourful profanities. Fortunately, Draco was steady enough to balance both of them and gentlemanly enough not to mention her slip of poise.

“I could have just Apparated back to WWW and you could have done the same to your office,” she mumbled, feeling her cheeks heat up despite the chill the rain brought with it.

“True, should I leave you in the middle of the street and take the umbrella with me?” he offered. She felt like stepping on his toe, if not to hurt him then only mar his shiny leather shoes that must have been charmed to withstand weather mishaps.

“If it pleasures you to get a visit from a certain Harry Potter who freely wields his wand – as an Auror,” she quickly added the last part, seeing Draco’s mouth contort into another smirk, his sharp mind swiftly thinking of other interpretations of her statement. “And inconsequently my boyfriend, who will not be so displeased to find a reason to dispose of you.”

“Sadly for you, Potter has affection for me,” he quipped.

“Then there’s my brother,” she said sweetly.

“Which one?” He scoffed at the ambiguity despite knowing well who she meant exactly.

“Pick one, there’s six of them who would readily do you damage,” she continued in her sickly sweet tone.

“I shall have to tell them then about your unnerving fascination with my bottom,” he shot back easily, sizing her up with his eyes alone. “I’m sure Ron would love to hear about it.”

She grinned with clenched teeth and ‘accidentally’ stepped on his toe. Draco automatically hissed swear words. “Oops,” Ginny said, batting her eyelashes innocently.

OxOxOxOxO

“I am glad that’s over,” Harry Potter murmured to himself, stretching his arms high over his head as he sat on his desk chair. Ron was shaking off his extra adrenaline by doing short hops on his side of the office.

His mind was already working his schedules inside his head, hoping to see Ginny by tomorrow. She would be ecstatic and most certainly relieved that she’d be seeing him more often after this. Well at least until he and Ron got their next assignment.

“Damn right, that what’s-his-face Dela Cruz was a bloody idiot – the stick’s so far up his ass! Remember when the Aurors dragged him towards the prison bus? He had his chin held high and he was shaking his moustache!” Ron’s facial expression and tone was in between irritation and amusement. He hopped more quickly and exuberantly as he rattled on about the man they caught. Harry just smiled in agreement, content that it was done.

Don Dela Cruz was a part of the Spanish mafia that had got caught somehow with a British illegal drug transaction. Harry was glad that the case was over for it had been a while since he could last breathe easily. He and Ron had been so stressed by the case they were working on for three months!

And what a three-month case it was. It was hard enough to extract information from the British who were involved, much more from the Spaniards who pretended they didn’t understand English and were quick to draw out their wands for a fight. The translators they had on the job were shaken by the experience.

It had certainly taken up Ron’s and his patience. It had tried Hermione and Ginny’s patience too. Ron and Hermione had been together for two years now and so far things had been going well, except when both were exceptionally busy. Both understood, of course, what their jobs required of them, but that didn’t shake off the uneasiness and frustration of not being able to really be together most of the time.

But of course, their marriage was just starting and with Hermione a month pregnant, it was putting Ron in a crisis. He wasn’t sure if he should go on dangerous missions and leave Hermione at home to care of their ‘egg’, as Ron usually called it (to Hermione’s annoyance). Harry grinned, remembering how shrill Hermione’s voice was while she was a mere millimetre away from whacking her husband’s head.

Ron stopped hopping and sat down at his chair for a long while, looking deep so deep in thought that Harry was surprised when he suddenly opened his mouth.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to go out in the field with you anymore, mate,” Ron said in a pained voice, as if he were being forced by an unseen person to spit it out.

Harry blinked, stunned. Sure, he knew that Ron was worried about what would happen to his child and to Hermione. He was pretty certain Hermione was egging him to just stay but Harry didn’t expect that.

“What?” he blurted out, for lack of better things to say.

Ron suddenly looked away, picking up the stuffed-toy Hermione had put on his table. She had put it there so that when Ron wanted to release his stress, he could throw the thing around and it’d bounce back to him. But he didn’t set it bouncing on the walls of the office this time; he passed it from one hand to the other.

“Our job takes a lot of sacrifice, Harry. I don’t want to risk not being there at the most important moments with my family,” he explained. He had his head lowered a bit and his long hair shielded his eyes.

Harry didn’t speak – he couldn’t – he just looked at the ground, at a loss. What would he do without Ron? If Ron left, then everything he had worked hard for would be wasted. Ron would never get that promotion he wanted to the First Rank if he didn’t go out on the field.

Another reason – although it might seem selfish of Harry – was that he’d be left alone.

Sure, he’d get a new partner, but it wouldn’t be the same. Ron had had his back from day one, right back in his first year in Hogwarts. Not to be able to look at his side and see him there would – dare he admit? – hurt too much.

“Do you remember Neville?” Ron asked him. Harry didn’t reply and Ron didn’t wait for him to, he just continued. “His parents are gone now. All his life, he really wasn’t able to spend it with them. At a young age, he was forced to face the fact that they would never be able to say ‘I love you’ to him and mean it. His mother was never able to bake him a cake – except of course, for his first birthday, and we wouldn’t really know because we never bothered to ask,” Ron trailed off, looking distraught as he tried to find more words and it appeared to Harry that Ron was trying much more to convince himself rather than him. “Stuff like that, Harry,” he finished pathetically, his hand finally pausing as he squeezed the ball in it.

Harry raised his eyes to look up at him, seeing a blurry image as his glasses were nearly falling off his nose and his head was still slightly lowered. Ron must’ve felt his scrutiny for he put it upon himself to explain further.

“I don’t want that to happen to me. But what I’m really considering is that I don’t want that to happen to my child and if I’m exceptionally lucky, my future children.” His voice was soft - agonizingly so. He had his head up again and he kept on massaging the ball in his hand, as if he were thinking … but Harry wished he wouldn’t because he didn’t think he could hear any more.

Harry knew he should say something; he knew he should say that it was all right, that he understood. But for the life of him, he knew it wasn’t bloody all right! He felt like his past and present and his future were crumbling into dust. He understood everything, but that didn’t mean that with only understanding he could change it nor did it mean he could accept it – which was really what Ron was asking from him.

Harry had the habit of running his hand through his messy hair when he was annoyed or angry or frustrated. He did it now as he thought. Ron kept quiet.

It all boiled down to one thing. Harry was going to be left alone – again.

But his thoughts connected with his memories of their Hogwarts days. He would do anything – anything in the world to bring back the people he loved and lost because of the war. Sirius, Cedric… if they hadn’t been involved with him, they would probably be alive and happy. But they had been. Harry couldn’t take the past back and change it. Especially with all the Time-turners destroyed. What he could do was make up for it now in the present.

Who he was, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, the Boy-Who-Lived, would always bring attention to himself and to those who were close to him. Harry looked thoughtfully at the guilty-stricken Ron; his friend was making a sacrifice and a good decision. If Ron won’t be a part of everything I do, he thought, he won’t be in trouble.

It took a lot from Harry to nod in acquiescence of the decision, to support his friend. Managing a smile, he clapped his best mate’s back and there was instant relief in Ron’s face.

“You’ll be a good father, Ron. In fact, you may become the best. But then again I’ll be a strong contender one day.” He tried for a lame joke and similarly, Ron tried for a lame chuckle.

“Thanks, mate. I have to go and meet Hermione. She’s going to want to hear this part as well,” Ron said with a small smile, still looking quite uncertain. He stood up and walked away with one backward glance. Then the door closed.

OxOxOxOxO

Draco and Ginny never really reached their respective job locations for the reason that women around them started to whisper and point fingers. The women, Ginny observed in dismay, glared straight at her. She peered up at Draco, who radiated annoyance albeit keeping a stoic expression on his face.

“How come you didn’t become a Quidditch player?” he asked out of the blue. Ginny blinked, taken aback by his sudden start of conversation. She couldn’t yet get a hang of Draco’s random conversation-openers.

“I guess it’s because – let’s not talk about it,” she sighed, slightly miffed that he had brought up a sensitive topic.

“Didn’t you always want to be a Quidditch player?” he prodded, ignoring her request.

“We don’t always become what we want to be. And maybe I didn’t want to be a Quidditch player at all. Maybe I just enjoyed the game. Maybe… well there’s hundreds of thousands of maybes!” she snapped. It didn’t register in her mind that he might just be distracting her from the paranoia about their onlookers. He had hit a vulnerable spot and Ginny’s defences shot up.

“You’re right,” he placated coolly. “We don’t always become what we want to be.”

She kept her silence stubbornly for a while before mentally admitting her childishness; she sighed and asked softly, “What did you want to be, Draco?”

For a moment he didn’t answer. When he spoke, there was a scathing bitterness that echoed in his tone. “Contrary to popular belief, there isn’t much place for ‘wants’ in Malfoy heirs. You’re thrust the responsibility of continuing an wealthy ancestral empire once you pop out of your mother’s womb and the medi-wizard cries out that you’re a boy. It’s not that we actually want what we’re given or what we have to take. It’s like’s we’re born with an innate ability to rule the conglomerate world.”

Ginny briefly wondered, as she hid her face behind her red tresses, if the reason Draco said he got what he wanted was because he barely wanted anything. She deduced that he probably didn’t consider not being given what he’d asked for as not getting what he wanted due to the probability that he may not have wanted it at all.

“But if you could want to be someone or something,” Ginny pressed gently. She lifted her face to look him in the eye. Draco refused to meet her gaze. He settled his darkening grey eyes elsewhere as if he knew what she was going to ask and he didn’t want to answer. “What would you want to be?”

His answer startled her. “I wanted to be a Healer,” he confessed. He chuckled without humour and when it died, it left a smirk in his face. That smirked conveyed the irony that Draco surely felt. He continued when he saw her questioning eyes. “I guess gits like me fancy saving people’s lives as well.”

It felt wrong to have peered inside Draco Malfoy’s heart – Ginny’s own heart constricted with guilt at having brought it up, though she was pleased that he had answered truthfully. The way he expressed himself, it pretty much seemed as if he’d been keeping this secret ‘want’ for a very long time. But Ginny didn’t apologize. She believed making him open up was good for him. So in return, she confided in him the secret she had been denying for many years:

“I don’t know what I want to be,” she admitted. It was such a pitifully simple thing to say, yet it yanked so many emotions from her.

The rain suddenly stopped pouring. Ginny kept her head bowed low even as she heard the umbrella click close. Draco sighed beside her.

“I supposed you’re waiting for me to speak words of comfort or something dynamically inspiring,” he told her, wringing the wet umbrella disdainfully. “But I’m not the sappy type, Ginny, if you haven’t guessed yet. If you want, though, we can go to a nearby pub and drown these filthy miseries with strong alcoholic beverages.” She felt his eyes on her and sure enough, he was gazing at her with narrowed eyes. “But considering your height and features, they may only want to offer you Butterbeer.”

She kicked his shin. Draco bent sharply by the knees. “I guess I’ll just have to lead the way.”

It was already around three o’clock when they finally parted. Stepping outside, the sun was so high up and the wind blew so wonderfully that no one would have guessed it was raining so heavily just two hours ago.

Ginny giggled and bumped into a sturdy Draco, who didn’t even sway a bit. “Bloody hell, you have a penchant for violence!” he cried, surveying his robe.

“You weren’t even hurt, Draco,” she retorted, sticking out her tongue.

“Never mind getting hurt! I have to go back to the office in pristine conditions,” he informed her snottily. He glared at her, and Ginny wondered if the hot pinpricks she felt were from her freckles, ready to burst because of Draco’s heated glare.

But she snorted and rolled her eyes. “After all these years, you’re still more concerned about your garments than getting hurt. I’ll be going now.” She started to walk, turning her head back in uncertainly, as if meeting up with Draco again shook her out of a zone of safety. She raised her hand to wave at him behind her, but he held her wrist instead and started walking with her.

Ginny was startled and she frowned. “What are you doing?” He was now pulling her as he walked, making her look like a child who was being dragged behind the parent.

“I am escorting you back to your office, if it weren’t already obvious.” His sarcasm made her snort. “Will you please stop snorting? It’s unladylike,” he told her with disdain. She snorted again just to spite him and pulled at her hand.

“Let go, Draco. I can walk on my own.” She pulled again. He merely rubbed the inside of her wrist, which sent a pleasant jolt throughout her body.

“The hell you can. If you get mugged in the streets, I will have to listen to Potter rattle his arse away,” he called over her shoulder.

“The sun’s still high up in the sky. Harry himself doesn’t escort me back to the shop.” Despite their argument, Ginny was letting him pull her across the street without much of a fight. She rather liked Draco’s large warm hand over her wrist.

“That is what separates well-bred, successful men like me who evidently take regular baths from men like your Potter,” he answered her gleefully. “And I’m enjoying dragging a Weasley around.”

“Have you forgotten about the six elder brothers I have?” she reminded him, gritting her teeth. The wind blew at her flushed cheeks, cooling them. People were starting to look – especially women who arched their eyebrows high up their foreheads. If Draco waved at them, displaying his trademark smirk, Ginny highly doubted they would notice what he was doing to a hapless lady.

Not that she was hapless. And then he just called her unladylike. She smacked his hand but his grip was strong. “I am not unladylike.” He made a sound akin to a chuckle.

“Your quick reactions, Ginny, are certainly charming.” She felt like kicking him but his long strides separated them enough that she wouldn’t be able to even so much as brush her foot on one of his long legs. He pulled her so that she was behind his right side. “But if you were a lady, you’d be appreciative of my gentlemanly actions.”

“I’d be a half-wit to thank someone who’s dragging me, clearly amused,” she replied wryly. She could feel him smirking without seeing his face.

“I seldom get entertained,” Draco drawled. Once they reached Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, the sounds of children trying to get in and out of the store filled the air. Draco finally let go of her wrist and she held it gingerly, blowing at the heated junction where her forearm connected with her hand. She glared at him and he regarded her with a smirk.

“Miss Weasley,” he said formally. “I hope that our conversation helps you reach a decision about which path to take for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.” He extended his hand for a shake and she smiled taking it.

“I usually don’t like listening to prats like you, Mr. Malfoy, but I’ll tell Fred and George. I think they’ll consider it.” The shift to businesslike tones made Ginny want to laugh. She had never seen Draco do a business deal but from the way he was acting, she had an inkling of how successful their rates must be.

The tint of light amusement in Draco’s eyes suddenly disappeared and so did his smirk. Ginny blinked, noting how serious he suddenly appeared. “Don’t I get a prize for chivalrously escorting you back here?”

A prize. Ginny’s whole face seemed to freeze and burn at the same time. The last time he asked for a prize, Ginny recalled, her heart racing faster than it ever had. The last time he asked for a prize, he almost took with it my heart. It had been four years since the last time he asked for a prize from her and she could still remember it well. Would she be damned for giving him a prize once more? Would it be imprinted on her mind forever?

“What prize do you want?” she managed to voice out despite her tightening larynx. She tried not to meet his eyes, afraid to see the telltale signs that he was thinking along the same lines as she was. He stepped closer and Ginny had to fight the urge not to step back, to face him.

“Let’s have lunch again next time,” Draco whispered, his tone of voice belying he had meant to say something more, something else; just that he had settled for that alone. Ginny forced herself to nod and to look up.

Draco’s eyes were intensely grey with bolts of blue. He looked at her in a way that she hadn’t been looked upon in so long a time; she was convinced she had already forgotten the emotions that came with it. But she hadn’t. And so she forced herself to flash him a smile which he didn’t return. He simply raised his eyebrows in subtle acknowledgement and took her hand. She noticed belatedly that he had handed her the umbrella. She frowned in confusion.

“I’ll have to take it from you the next time we meet.” His tone was back to its lazy drawl. His eyes were now lidded with what she fervently hoped was only boredom. He started to walk away and with a pop, he vanished.

This time there were no feelings of dismay for Ginny. She gripped at the handle of the umbrella tightly. Ginny knew what it meant. He wanted a reason to come back to her. It made her sigh as she trudged back to work.

She slumped in her chair; her secretary greeted her and inquired about the umbrella. “No, just let it – don’t touch it,” she muttered, looking at it placed on top of her table.

Knowing Draco, he’ll come back for it. Just as an excuse, of course. It confused her. What to feel…or if she should feel anything at all. It didn’t seem right at all and her mind flashed an image of Harry. The image of Harry made her smile.

“I love Harry,” she said aloud. And an employee who had opened the door to take supplies smiled in her direction, probably regarding her random confession as romantic rather than what it was: a mark of conflicting emotions inside her heart.

OxOxOxOxO

Ginny woke up smiling. It was rare that she did but whenever she did, she felt great. She stretched her arms high over her head and looked at the light through her right hand – the light peeking from her fingers.

Yesterday had been a great day - she hadn’t seen Draco in such a long time that she felt all giddy when she did. She couldn’t really understand it.

Sure, he had been very handsome when she last saw him, in a boyish sort of way. But after four years, his face had matured and he looked manlier. So he was now very, very handsome in a manly sort of way. She giggled. It sounded downright silly, and then she snorted when she remembered the many times her mother had read aloud articles about him in the Witch Weekly, seeming very astonished but pleased by the idea of him turning his life around and becoming such a great individual. She rolled her eyes.

Reflecting on their unscheduled meeting, Ginny remembered their trudge towards the pub. Draco had limped, mostly cursing and calling her all sorts of names which Ginny chose to ignore by humming to herself. Draco had asked about Ginny’s work and her life. Work has always been a touchy subject for Ginny but Draco didn’t seem to think her unaccomplished at all to still be working at a shop outlet of her brothers’.

As they trudged towards the pub (Draco limped, mostly cursing and calling her all sorts of names which Ginny chose to ignore by humming to herself), Draco asked about Ginny’s work and her life. Work has always been a touchy subject for Ginny but Draco didn’t seem to think her unaccomplished at all to still be working at a shop outlet of her brothers.

“You’ll find what you want. Or you’ll discover it,” he assured her, and then sipped at his Firewhisky. Draco, she discovered, did not take swigs from bottles of anything. He sipped. ‘Like a dainty little girl’, she had wanted to add, but knew it was untrue. He sipped in a dignified, snotty sort of way whilst miraculously retaining masculinity. She didn’t know how he did it. Ginny decided she was only giving him credit because they were friends.

“I hope I find it or discover it soon, because everyone’s been pressuring me to get a real job,” she mumbled moodily. He didn’t tease her, which was what she was dreading and she was grateful that he didn’t.

In fact, she was surprised when he encouraged her in his own way. “Use your work right now as job experience so you’ll know how to handle a hectic work schedule. When you find what you want, you won’t be pushed into a world more fast-paced than what you’re used to. It’s also a plus that you can use your money right now for funds so that you’ll have capital when you’ve decided what you want to be,” he advised.

Ginny looked at him in awe. It seemed like he was the first person to understand what she felt. He said exactly what she’d wanted to hear for so long from anyone she cared for. Or from anyone at all, really. She even felt a little disappointed that the encouragement hadn’t come from Harry. He was in fact uncomfortable when Ginny brought up the subject in frustration.

“You know, when you speak like that, it’s hard to think you were such a meanie when we were younger,” she told him cheekily. He raised an eyebrow.

“I have never been a meanie. What an appalling word! I remember being drop-dead gorgeous and smart and incredibly witty but never that word.”

“It’s all coming back to me now,” she teased. He just smirked lazily in return.

After that, Ginny had let Draco talk about his work. Draco had been intent upon making her understand what it was about that he barely touched his Firewhisky again and neither did she. It was a job forced onto him, the position being passed down by his late father. But he seemed to enjoy it nevertheless. Ginny realized that Draco was fond of his job and thought that maybe if Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes did merge with Malfoy Inc., it would only prove to be successful. Malfoy Inc., as Ginny understood, was a very successful merger company that covered everything from clothing lines that ranged from athletic wear to casual, to food and anything else. Draco had explained that he had high hopes for his family’s company, hoping that it would serve everyone. He’d said that in years to come, it might not matter much if one was Muggle-born or not since pure-bloods were getting rare.

It awed her that he had such a broad perspective. He had been such a racist in Hogwarts that it surprised her that he would talk that way. Then again, it was a business and he was a CEO looking out for his company. He might not be so fond of Muggle-born witches and wizards, but he wouldn’t mind earning from them. But it wasn’t just earning that seemed to interest Draco Malfoy. It was also giving back. Malfoy Inc. had set up a fund for medical breakthroughs, using the money to get access to difficult to find ingredients that were being experimented upon by St. Mungo’s, in hopes to find several different cures. He also had housing programs for those devastated by Lord Voldemort’s attacks several years ago. It impressed Ginny to hear that he was involving himself as actively as he could.

They never mentioned anything about his true aspiration to be a Medi-Wizard. From what he’d said, it seemed he was pretty content with the help Malfoy Inc. provided for those who needed it. He derived satisfaction from being able to step up to the responsibilities thrust upon him. Ginny was sure it did wonders for Draco’s ego as well.

Someone knocked at her door and she gave permission for the person to come in. She’d been expecting it to be either her parents or one of her siblings so she was surprised to see Harry looking at her lying on her bed, blushing. She sat up quickly and gathered her blanket, pulling it to her chest.

“Harry!” she squeaked. Harry looked away, turning his face towards the door.

“I’m sorry!” he apologized, bringing up a hand to scratch his head. “I – you said I could come in.”

Ginny blushed. She wasn’t exactly naked, but she was wearing a short nightdress that had ridden up to her stomach - though she wasn’t exactly exposed per se because her blanket hid her knickers.

“Uhm it’s alright… you can turn around,” she told him. She supposed it wouldn’t matter if he saw her naked. In fact, it might maybe give him a push to well… you know.

Harry turned around and looked at her. Well, he looked in her direction but did not make eye contact. She smiled at him so that if he were ever to look he’d see she wasn’t cross with him for catching her in her sleepwear. Ginny felt a tinge of disappointment that he didn’t seem to be interested when seeing her in barely anything.

“Hey Harry, is there something you need?” she asked him, not knowing what else to say.

“Uhm, I was hoping we would… er… you know, go out on a date?” he asked shyly, his green eyes darting towards her hopefully. She felt a bit giddy that he would be so adorable in his way of asking her out. With Harry, it felt like she was in Hogwarts again and a boy was asking her for the first time.

It was adorable in some aspects, Ginny corrected herself. It didn’t feel all that good knowing that they were out of Hogwarts and he should be more forward in asking her. But she told herself it was probably because he was still shocked by seeing her dressed as she was.

“Sure!” she chirped. “Just give me a second to get ready.” Harry grinned at her and told her he’d wait downstairs. She showered quickly and picked what she thought were the right clothes for her date with Harry.

When she was done, she quickly went downstairs and found Harry sitting on a chair in the Weasley kitchen, talking to her mum. He was holding on to a teacup and he gulped from it as he chatted with her mum. Ginny was too far to hear their conversation but she contented herself with looking at both of them. She tried to picture him a few years from now, when he finally got the courage to ask her hand in marriage, sitting there talking with her mum.

She tried, she really tried hard. But she found that she couldn’t.

She frowned, but thought it better not to think much of it. Anyway, it wasn’t such a big deal for they weren’t in any rush to be married, so it would be very understandable if the future was blurry or could not be seen yet. She decided it was time for her to interrupt their tête-à-tête, and walked over.

She put her hands on his shoulders and he tensed suddenly and clutched tightly at his teacup. From the corner of her eyes, she saw him instinctively grip his wand. She let go of her hold on him, taken aback by his defensiveness. He turned around, his gaze sharp, but it softened with relief when he found out it was her. She smiled at him.

“Surprised?” she asked him, slightly stunned and hurt at the same time. He smiled apologetically.

“Sorry about that, it’s only that-” he tried to explain but Ginny didn’t want to hear any of it any more. She understood.

“It’s all right, I understand,” she told him. She meant it, and she had used an honest tone but he frowned at the word. She was going to ask where Harry planned to take her but was interrupted by her mum.

“Ginny dear, Harry has just been telling me about how they had finally solved their case!” her mother proclaimed proudly and Ginny grinned, looking at Harry. Harry smiled up at her, shrugging modestly. The case had been plaguing him for months and finally, he had solved it. Maybe that was why they were going on a date right now, to celebrate.

“Congratulations! I’m so happy for you!” she said to him.

“Thanks, Gin,” Harry said. “I wanted to take you out, since I know I haven’t been very attentive lately.” She quickly warmed up to him with his sweet words. It was true that he hadn’t been very attentive to her these past few months. Even when they were with each other, he had seemed a bit distracted. How he attached himself personally to the cases he took worried her. Right now, he didn’t seem as glad as he was before whenever he solved a case. It was like the enthusiasm had faded a bit from him and Ginny wondered why.

Something is bothering him, she thought, looking at him as he traced the rim of his teacup with his thumb. I have to find out what. She put a hand on his shoulder again and this time, he didn’t tense up or flinch away. He simply raised his head to look up at her with his green eyes. She smiled at him coaxingly.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked him softly. He raised an eyebrow, grinning.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking that?” he asked her, his green eyes bright under the tangled mess of jet-black hair.

She laughed. “Well, you’re the one sitting there!”

He got up and they said their goodbyes to her mum and they walked off. They reached the middle of the lot before they turned to each other. “Where are we going?” she asked him. He shrugged.

“Anywhere you want to,” he told her simply. Ginny rolled her eyes and smacked his arm none too gently. Harry groaned and rubbed the spot without irritation. He was used to her… brutality toward her brothers and himself. He rarely complained, as if the violent gesture oddly endeared Ginny more to him. Ginny found it quite odd and she knew Draco would too, remembering his colourful vulgarities. Then she remembered she shouldn’t be thinking of it at all.

“You ask me out on a date and you didn’t have a place in plan?” she demanded, her hands on her hips. He grinned sheepishly and scratched his head. Her attention quickly shifted to the mess on top of his hair he unworthily called ‘hair’. “It needs cutting,” she said, unable to bring herself to call it hair.

“Yeah, I do…” he answered distractedly before continuing in a hopeful tone, “Well, there’s this place I was sort of interested to eat in.” Ginny linked her arm with his, leaning her head on his shoulder, pleased that Harry was the one insisting to go out in a new place for the first time.

“Lead the way or rather, Apparate us there.”

He nodded with a smile and raised his wand as Ginny blinked. When she opened her eyes, she was in a whirl of colours and a few seconds later, they were in front of a small restaurant in Diagon Alley. She hadn’t been in Diagon Alley for weeks and it amazed her how much she missed it all of a sudden. Maybe because she had barely felt the weeks pass by because of the fast pace she had to work with in Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. She eagerly followed Harry inside and let him do the talking.

A few people stopped to look at both of them, particularly at Harry. Some people still got star-struck whenever they saw him but Harry usually just continued with his business. They sat furthest from the crowd as possible, to be undisturbed. Ginny was all right with it because she wanted Harry all to herself; and because they were usually disturbed by people wanting to talk to him or get a picture with him. She was mostly shoved to the side and they both felt very uncomfortable with that – with Ginny more irritated than he was.

A waitress gave them their menus and they conversed as their tried to pick the meals they wanted. Occasionally, they read aloud interesting names of food and told each other about experiences connected directly or loosely to it. They would laugh at the anecdotes. Ginny was especially pleased to see Harry laugh.

It was when desserts came that Ginny had the opportunity to ask him what was troubling him.

“Harry, are you all right?” she asked him. He shifted, pulling at his ear as he did so – an action he made whenever he wasn’t exactly telling the truth – before nodding his head. He shovelled food in his mouth, as if it could save him the trouble of speaking if he did. “Really?” she asked again sceptically. He nodded his head vigorously, pulling at his ear again. “You don’t seem all right to me,” she said softly.

His eyes were gentle as he looked up at her guiltily. So something was troubling him. Perhaps it was connected to the case? Maybe there was a catch that came when he and Ron solved it. Now Ginny was really worried. Normally he would tell her about how a case had gone, right or wrong, even his opinions about the matter. She would listen to him and would sometimes voice her comments.

“Is this about the case?” she asked. He shook his head. She cocked her head to the side, confused. What could be bothering him? “Is this about Ron?” she guessed. He grew uncomfortable and she knew she had guessed correctly.

“We had a discussion,” he told her carefully, as if he wasn’t sure what exactly to call whatever Ron and he had gone through. She asked him what it was about. He shook his head. “I can’t tell you, Gin. I’m sorry, but it should come from him.” At his words Ginny grew uncomfortable, slightly hurt. Didn’t he trust her enough to tell her? Maybe he saw the expression on her face, for he quickly tried to amend what he said. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that it’s not my place to do so. I wish I could, but after he tells you,” he sighed, “I will.” He looked her in the eye, his green eyes so full of hope that she’d understand that Ginny’s mind briefly drifted to the past. They had never completely lost their innocence, the childlike wish for acceptance that Harry had always felt he was deprived of.

She wanted to know more, but knew that if it was anything big, then she would eventually find out. What troubled her was how this would eat away at Harry … and when would she find out? Then she remembered something. “It’s family day tomorrow and mum’s told everyone to go to The Burrow. You can talk to Ron there,” she informed him brightly. He seemed to brighten up at the thought, but he still looked a little nervous.

“Whatever it is,” Ginny began resolutely, “Ron loves you and it won’t put a strain in your friendship.” He nodded slowly, which might have been a gesture of letting her words sink into him but which she couldn’t help but interpret as scepticism towards her words. He might believe it, but only because of his faith in his friend, rather than for the reason that it was reassurance from the person he supposedly cherished.

She nodded her head decidedly, despite her thoughts. “I hope it’s not going to be very bad news. With Hermione being pregnant, more stress isn’t what they should be facing right now.”

“It’s good news,” Harry muttered, biting at his dessert. Ginny looked at him, startled.

“That’s good then! So Harry,” she started gingerly. “Why do you seem upset?”

Harry didn’t speak. He instead reached for her hand and squeezed it gently, as if gathering strength merely from her touch. Ginny wondered why he didn’t want to relate it to her, considering she was his girlfriend. She sighed, not wanting to have an argument about it at all and ruin their lunch. She decided not to force him, feeling wearied by the whole ordeal of trying to get information from Harry.

The feelings she had of being left out during their youth always came back to her during these times. She should be assured that she meant something to him. Or else he would not be wasting his time treating her to lunch and neither would he be holding on to her hand. He didn’t let go even as he ate.

She couldn’t resist reminding him, to remind herself as well. “I’m here for you, Harry. Please don’t forget,” she pleaded with him. At that, he looked up at her intensely for a second then looked away, pained. He pushed his food towards him on his plate with his fork.

“I won’t,” he replied quietly. Ginny smiled wanly, feeling not at all better despite reassuring him. She didn’t understand why he had to be so difficult with her. She sighed again and looked out of a window, contenting herself with staring at passers-by and vendors littering the streets.

A couple caught her attention. They were holding hands and the girl was saying something to her boyfriend and her boyfriend was looking at her with such affection, as if she was the only one he could see. He seemed to be hanging on to her every word and when she wrinkled her nose at what he said, he laughed, looking completely delighted by her. He kissed her nose and looked at her tenderly. The girl smiled coyly before lifting her lips to his.

For a moment, Ginny was envious. The forming tears made her eyes shine and the sob that wanted to escape from her throat constricted her trachea. She pulled the hand Harry clutched in his back and wiped her eyes discreetly. Harry hadn’t even seemed to notice, even after holding it as if he needed it a while ago. He didn’t look up as he ate. Ginny tried to send him mental messages to look up, to look at her and smile – just the like the boyfriend had done to his girlfriend outside. Now, how come she hadn’t seen Harry look at her with so much affection in a while?