Chapter Fourteen: Coming Around

Draco leaned back in his black leather chair, taking a long draw from his brandy bottle, not caring a lick that it was hours till noon. He needed the damn alcohol, still trying to process all the events of the last twenty-four hours. His son seeing Ginny’s daughter seemed almost a trivial detail in comparison to everything else. Even the knowledge that his son knew the truth of his former relationship with Ginny was not enough to distract him from his thoughts of her. Perhaps it was because when it came down to it, Ginny was in the center of it all, of everything that had happened, but Draco knew it wasn’t for that reason that he couldn’t stop thinking about the beautiful redhead, his beautiful redhead. At least, she had been his.

Taking another swig of his brandy, Draco stared bitterly into the darkness of his office, the alcohol buzzing in his ears as his memories consumed him. He remembered when he’d first ran into her that fateful day in Diagon Alley, when she’d been sitting on the curb outside of Florean Fortescue’s, looking absolutely miserable. He’d stared at her, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he’d taken her in, the want ads stuffed under the crook of his arm practically burning his skin as he found a solution to his roommate problem. He’d bought her an ice cream in an effort to bribe her and tried to casually bring the subject up. She’d only laughed in his face when he did, flatly refusing him.

It had always been like that between them. Initially, no matter what he had asked, she always turned him down, but she always came around to his side in the end, despite the sour expression on her face. He had loved her brash independence and grew to delight in teasing her, always expecting her refusal and then relishing her defeat. He’d never been happier than when he’d first gathered the courage to kiss her, throwing that blasted spatula over his shoulder along with every principle he’d ever been taught. When they had finally broken apart, she had glanced up at him almost fearfully, not knowing what to do, but the flower he’d conjured for her without a second’s thought had brought that same small smile to her lips. She had glanced up at him then, her brown eyes sparkling as she’d softly kissed him back, giving into him once more and he thought he could never be happier.

Months afterward, when Draco had watched her walk out the door of their flat, it had been like a ton of bricks had fallen on top of him, crushing him so that he couldn’t even breathe. He had watched with nothing less than horror as she had thrown her things into a suitcase, crying and refusing to talk to him, to tell him what had happened to make her voluntarily rip herself straight out of his life, leaving him cold. He could only watch as every good thing he had gained in the few months since the war had fallen down around him. Shelves were emptied, cabinets and dresser drawers left bare. She was not only taking herself, she was eradicating any evidence that she’d ever lived there, ever been with him, and it had ripped a hole in his chest to watch. Watching her packing her bags, refusing to face him, he had numbly realized she wouldn’t be coming back, that nothing he could do would be enough to win her back.

“Shit,” Draco cursed under his breath, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands, his brandy forgotten though the alcohol he’d already consumed thrummed through his system, reminding him of every ache and pain she’d left him with. Twenty-six years. It had been twenty-six years since he’d been with her, since Ginny had been his, and still he could recall the unexpected panic she’d come home in, shaking with tears as she furiously packed a suitcase, shoving everything that could possibly fit inside the old thing.

“What the hell are you doing?” he’d asked, following her into her bedroom, watching as the then sixteen-year-old Ginny Weasley had spun around to face him, tears streaking down her cheeks.

“I have to go…” she’d whispered.

“What? W-why?”

She’d pushed past him to the sock drawer, wiping at her eyes and forcing her tangled mass of hair impatiently back. “I d-don’t want to talk about it,” she’d cried.

“Have I done something?” he’d asked, intentionally intercepting her, his hand poised just over her elbow.

She’d quickly averted her eyes, not wanting to look at him. “N-no…”

“Then why are you doing this?” he’d demanded, his throat tightening painfully. “What happened?”

“I-I said I didn’t want to d-discuss it, Draco!”

“Well, maybe I do!” he had exclaimed, grasping her slender shoulders and forcing her to look up at him, her brown eyes no longer shining with anything but pools of tears.

“I-I’m so sorry…” she’d gasped, a hitch in her voice.

“Why are you doing this?” he’d asked, staring at her with both shock and fear, fear that he was losing everything in an instant and he hadn’t even had a moment’s warning. “We’re happy here,” he’d whispered, almost pleadingly. “We’re happy, Gin. Why are you… Why are you walking away from everything?”

“Draco, I-I…”

“I thought you loved me…?” he trailed off brokenly, wondering at how his chest could hurt so much when she hadn’t even really left yet. He still had time to stop her, to talk some sense into her, but already the idea of her leaving him was enough to undo him entirely.

Her face had crumpled in misery as she’d looked away, her voice rising in pitch and desperation. “I-I can’t d-do this anymore… not, n-not to Harry…”

Those words had forced a barrier between them, closing Draco off. He’d taken a step back from her, his senses hyperaware of the agony shooting like fire through his frozen veins as the full weight of his realization crashed down around him. She was choosing Potter. She was going back to Potter…

“So you’re going to marry him,” he’d whispered bitterly.

She had stared up at him pleadingly, as tears fell impossibly fast from her eyes. “I-I d-don’t have any c-choice…” she’d gasped for air.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded, seizing her shoulders in a grip so fierce his knuckles paled. He wanted to shake her, to knock some sense in her but he forced himself to ignore that instinct and held himself back. “There’s always a choice!” he hissed. “Isn’t that your family’s bloody mantra? Huh? Always going on about choosing your fate! Make a different choice!” he shouted, finally losing his fragile control and shaking her until her tears doubled, each cry physically hurting him.

“You d-don’t under… unders-s-stand!” she cried.

His fingers stilled and he forced himself to release her, his breathing hot and shallow as he could only stare into her eyes, swallowing thickly. “Then help me, Gin. Tell me why you’re acting like this. What happened?”

She shook her head furiously back and forth, tears spilling down her cheeks as she crumpled into herself. “I-I… I h-had to c-choose!” she sobbed. She’d buried her face against the palms of her hands as he had pulled her towards him and against his chest, holding tightly so as not to let go, whispering in her ear, hoping she could hear his voice past the sounds of her own crying.

“Then choose me, Gin. Please, please, choose me…”

Draco swallowed the brandy with a painful slowness, letting the alcohol numb his memories but even then, he still couldn’t escape the image that continued to haunt him in his lowest moments of misery. It was the exact look on her face when she’d turned around to face him, one hand poised over the door handle, suitcase in her other hand. There had still been tears in her eyes but her decision had been made. She stood still for a full minute, her small body shuddering but she hadn’t said a word, tightly biting down on her lower lip. It was the last time he would ever see her in the place they’d been happy for almost eleven months of rent payments and he knew he’d never see her again once she shut the door. Draco had felt his chest constrict, his lungs suddenly unable to function as she did just that, letting the door shut with a mind-numbingly final click behind her.

He’d begged her to stay; he’d never begged for anything in his life, not even during his brief stint as a Death Eater when he’d been desperate to try and do whatever he could to save his parents. But he had begged her and she’d left him in that empty flat, completely alone and without any explanation, staring at the door that she’d closed between them.

He’d waited for weeks, months even. The day she married Potter, he had nearly drank himself into a coma, unable to bring himself to attend the wedding, the invitation lying unopened on his desk. He’d read it once years later, the night before he married Astoria, thinking back and plagued by the past and might-have-beens. The parchment had been wrinkled, stained by long-dried teardrops he was sure. She had apologized and pleaded for him to come, needing to see him; she’d called him her best friend and she’d signed it: Love, Ginny. But he hadn’t gone and he never saw her again until a little over a month ago when she’d been at his wife’s dinner party, looking more beautiful than even his memory thought possible, and his heart had ached and burned a little more just at the sight of her.

He’d held himself back, reminding himself that she’d left, that they had each taken their different paths and were both tied to their respective spouses. Yesterday, though, he’d seen her again and at his son’s biting words, everything had come back in a rush that threatened to undo them both. Ginny had fallen apart in his arms, more broken than he’d ever seen her and it had ripped the hole in his chest apart, leaving him in shreds inside. The words his son had spat, of their having made a mistake, had triggered a violent response in her as she’d burst into tears, struggling to breathe. Draco had never imagined the vibrant redhead he’d once fallen in love with could have unraveled so completely and he knew that something was killing her inside, even after all of these years.

Still cursing, Draco sat up in his chair, staring unseeingly at the door of his office, his eyes still distant and troubled. His memories of her were always bitter but made even more so by the alcohol’s dull burning and by the abundance of her tears the day before.

Unable to help himself, Draco finished off the last of his brandy, relishing the burning sensation as it took a little away from the pain of his troubled mind. Their past would never leave them and it was slowly ruining their lives and their children. Worst of all, Ginny had been hurt and Draco had promised himself when she’d left that he would never be the cause of her pain again. Yesterday had been like their wounds were ripped open anew, burning painfully even now. Time, the twenty-four or so odd hours that had passed since then, had done nothing to lessen the raw and acute pain he felt.

Trying to distract himself from his thoughts, Draco tried going through some paperwork, doing anything to get his mind off Ginny Weasley. It almost struck him as funny that years afterward, he still couldn’t drive the woman completely from his mind. She was a part of him, a part that would never leave and never stop aching, whether he loved his wife or not, and Merlin, he loved Astoria, and he felt vile every time his thoughts drifted to the red-haired witch instead of his wife.

Unexpectedly, there was a sharp rap of knuckles on the door and Draco groaned into the palms of his hands, finally looking up from his stack of letters, thoroughly irritated and no longer sober. Wondering why his secretary had not announced whoever was knocking, he rose from his desk and moved towards the door, reaching out to turn the handle.

The woman in front of him raised her glassy eyes to his, crying with tears falling freely from her sad brown eyes.

Draco felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest at the sight of her, her name falling in a whisper from his lips. “Ginny…” Her shoulders slumped in a hiccoughed sob as she nodded, unable to speak. Immediately, Draco wrapped her in his arms, fiercely and instinctively pressing his lips to her scarlet hair.

She let out a small cry as his arms circled around her, her own hands stretching upwards in order to cling to the fabric of his robes as she buried her face against his chest, her breathing shallow and labored by tears.

For a moment, Draco could only stare numbly down at the top of her scarlet hair, feeling each breath of hers build, exhale, and then dissipate against his chest. Her shoulders melted and she molded herself further against him, closing her eyes as though she’d come home after years of weary traveling and only wanted to rest. Swallowing painfully, Draco laid his cheek against hers, inwardly wondering if a heart could have a home outside of its own body.

A prickling feeling at the base of his neck had him turning around, only then aware of the wide eyes of his just-out of Hogwarts secretary. His throat tightened and he leaned down enough to whisper in Ginny’s ear, beckoning her into his office and away from prying eyes.

“Shh, come on inside, Gin,” he whispered. “We’ll talk inside.”

Ginny nodded weakly, seeming to come back to her senses once more. She quickly composed herself and stood straight though Draco noticed that her shoulders remained relaxed. Placing his hand gently around her shoulders, he steered her into his office, quickly closing the mahogany door to the stunned face of his secretary, he himself hardly noticing the fearful way she glanced at the post owls in the corner.

Once after closing the door behind them both, Draco turned to face her, taking in the watery brown eyes that held his gaze and the freckles standing out against her too pale skin. Her hair was long as he remembered and as his fingers reached forward to wrap themselves around the familiar strands, he realized he couldn’t help himself. He finally raised his eyes up to hers, hardly daring to breathe.

“Ginny… I…”

“I had to see you,” she blurted out, something flickering in her eyes once the words left her mouth, as if even she were surprised by their truth.

“Okay…” he swallowed. His lips twitched faintly in spite of himself and he held his arms aloft, gesturing as if presenting her with a long-awaited gift though his heart was aching in his chest. “Now you see me,” he whispered.

She let out a broken laugh and nodded her head, tears slipping down her face as she smiled up at him. “Yes,” she agreed, finally throwing her arms around his waist and burying herself against him as a child might cling to a teddy bear, never wanting to let go. “Yes,” she whispered again, closing her eyes and blocking everything else out.