CHAPTER 6
Silence is golden…but sometimes it’s just plain yellow.
- Author unknown
May 7th, 2005
Today Draco comes home very late and I’m too sleepy greet him. He slips under the blanket next to me.
“Gin?”
I don’t answer right away, but he starts whispering urgently, as if he's been holding back for a long time. He must think I’m asleep.
“Higgs has totally lost his plot and I can't stop him. Nobody can. And if no one does, there will be war. I don't know what to do. He's totally barmy and there's nothing I can do. Nothing.”
Alert and more awake than I like, I turn to him. “What happened? War with who?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry. I didn't want to worry you, since you are pregnant. I just...”
“I'm fine. War with who? When?”
“Can't tell yet.”
Draco looks lost, and he's not supposed to look lost, or confused, or scared. He's an I'm-Always-In-Control type of a wizard.
“And don't bother searching my study,” he goes on, a bit calmer. “There's nothing there. In fact, there is nothing in the whole Manor that would interest your Rebellion, so don't even try.”
There's a pause while I gape at him like a dead fish. “What about-”
“And please, don't try breaking into my Ministry office either. If any of you got caught, half of your family would be arrested and none of us would escape investigation.” There's a pause again while he stares at me intently. “Don't do anything just yet. I'll tell you more when you actually can help, all right?”
There's nothing soft in his demeanour, but for Draco Malfoy this seems almost like begging, so I utter my consent.
May 8th, 2005
“We're killing him,” he tells me the next night, while lying under the sheets with me. Just as last night, his voice is quiet and urgent as if he's afraid that we might be overheard. “Please don't hate me, Gin. We have to. There's just no other option. He's going to ruin Britain. There could be another war. Possibly civil. Or against Muggles. There's only a handful of people at the Ministry that I can trust not to side with this madness.”
There's a short pause but before I can even start objecting to the awful news, he continues, “And before you decide that you can never care for someone like me, hear me out.”
I want to hit him and scream, but there's something so desperate in his voice that I clam up and stay still in his arms. What he tells me then is not what I expect.
“I didn't tell you the whole truth about Theo's death. I failed to mention that it was Theo who heard me and someone else talking about overthrowing Higgs, not the other way around.”
“You lied?” I'm angry enough to try and leave his embrace, but he doesn't let me.
“Not exactly. I said that I told Higgs I overheard them plotting and it's true. But I lied to Higgs then. Theo was never part of us.”
“Us? You've been sneaking around behind the Minister's back for a long time then?”
“Almost from the start. At first, there were only two of us, but it grew as Higgs's insanity became clearer.”
“And you conveniently forgot to tell me about it?”
“Forgot? No.” His tone is sardonic, but what makes me reign in my temper a bit is the resignation I hear. “But what would it achieve? You couldn't really help and I didn't think you'd want to. Our vision of a resistance isn't even remotely similar to the Rebellion's tactics.”
“And what about how Nott died? Didn't you think I would have liked to know?”
“No. You didn't. Not back then, at least. You had already decided that I was the bad guy. You probably still think that. I had no reason to think you'd believe me.”
“I would have actually. I might have given you shit about it, but I'd have believed you eventually. I was really beat up about your apparent support of the Minister.” His lack of trust is not surprising, but it hurts nonetheless. “And why would I believe you now?” My tone is somewhat testy.
I see his jaw working with suppressed tension.
“I don't know. Because you care about me now?”
“It's 'care' now, is it? What happened to 'love'? You think I'm so fickle that my feelings change after every little story you weave?”
I'm so hurt that I don't notice my slip until I see the baffled look in his eyes, and realise that neither of us has actually ever used the word 'love' before. I'd gotten so used to thinking that magical word in my head, that I forgot I might be the only one feeling it. Maybe he did mean a simple appreciation and I was just being stupid again. The doubt grips me and I try to pull free.
“Love? Is that what you meant, Gin?” He wraps himself around me, not letting go. “I wasn't sure. I hoped, but... Do you love me then? Gin? Please, say something!”
I still and look at him. I can see it clearly now, that glint, that spark, that shade in his eyes. It's been there for a while, but I was never brave enough to grant it its proper name. Love.
“Yes, Draco,” I admit quietly. “That's what I meant. I'm sorry it took me so long to realise it. And I'm so very sorry that I've never been able to recognize it in you,” I say even more quietly. For a moment his eyes shine with happiness I've never seen there before, but when I disentangle myself from his arms, it dulls.
“Yes, I do love you,” I go on decisively, “but it doesn't make me accept the idea of you simply killing another man because it's convenient, Draco. Higgs might be crazy, but you can't just kill him! Surely there are legal ways...”
“Legal ways to what? To declare him insane?” His tone is very dry, as he sits up against the bedstead. “Who would have enough power to do that? He is the law, Gin, you know that. There are so few who think like we do, and only a few of them are trustworthy.”
“So what do you plan to do once he's dead? Declare yourself the new Minister for Magic?”
I am being sarcastic, but the moment the words leave my mouth I realise that Draco's posture goes rigid and he's pointedly staring at the opposite wall.
“Dear Merlin and ancient wizards! You do, don't you! Are you mad?”
“You don't trust me at all, do you?” There is a resigned bitterness to his words. I don't answer him because there is no good answer. Draco continues, “Power is too important to let just anybody to have it, Gin. You do understand that, don't you?”
“Yes. But you? The Minister for Magic?”
“And why not me?” Draco is angry, but for once he's not trying to hide it. “And if not me, then who? Who would you trust with that power? Your father? Granger? Saint Potter?”
“Of course not! They wouldn't... They...”
“What? They are too good to mar themselves with politics?”
“No, it's not what I meant.” I hesitate, because a part of me did mean it like that and he knows it. “I just meant that maybe there's someone else at the Ministry, who'd-”
“No,” he cuts me off. “It has to be me. There's no one else.”
“Power corrupts, Draco,” I whisper. It's not that I'm scared, because what is there to be scared of? It's just that I really want him to reconsider.
It's not a surprise when Draco just laughs quietly. “Thank you for pointing out the obvious, wife dear. But if I'm so easily corrupted, don't you think it's already too late to save me?”
He's right, of course. Malfoys have probably been corrupted since Merlin walked the earth and Draco is no exception.
“Is there really no one else you can trust with it?” I ask, not really thinking my prodding will help anything. “How many of you are there?”
“Just six, but even if there were six times six, it wouldn't matter.” He turns back to me and his eyes are beseeching. “I need to do this. You see my father – and grandfather, I suppose – “
“Oh please! Don't give me that shite about upholding the family name and what not! I don't care-”
“Would you just let me finish?” Draco says very quietly again and since it's his angry voice I close my eyes and pretend to ignore him. It's childish, but I'm really listening and he knows it.
“As I was saying when you interrupted me, my esteemed father was one of the people who helped to turn our world upside down.” It sounds like a question as if he is waiting for me to fill the silence, but I have no idea where he's going with it. After a moment he goes on. “But that doesn't matter anymore. Forget I mentioned him,” he says abruptly and I just blink in bewilderment. “It's not that I particularly want to be the Minister,” he goes on more calmly. “But somebody has to and no one at the Ministry has the guts for it. Some very hard decisions will have to be made, Gin. It will not be easy and I'm willing to do this. I'm going to build a good team and do anything I can to avoid the catastrophe. And as for being corrupted?” Suddenly he grins rakishly, but it looks quite weird on his face. “I already have more money and power than I could ever wish for.”
Faintly, I smile back and settle back down on the pillow. I close my eyes again, though it's not to sleep, but to think.
Draco shifts restlessly for a while, but I'm so tired that I still almost manage to fall asleep.
“Are you going to leave me over this?”
I open my eyes and turn to him sharply. “Over politics? Don't be an idiot! I might want to leave you over killing Higgs, but not because of your political aspirations.” When his features relax marginally, I add, ”You'll need a good wife if you are to campaign for the post.”
I close my eyes for the nth time after I see Draco nod as if he'd always known what my answer would be. I'm sleepy. After a moment I can feel his body shift again as if he's allowed himself to relax at last.
“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you,“ I utter quietly from my side of the bed and he fakes a small laugh, which I interpret into an embarrassment.
“Scare? I'm not afraid of you, you silly woman.”
“All right, you manly man, you, tell me more about the club of crazies you joined.”
“Founded, not joined, do try to keep up. Wife.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “And they are not crazy. No more than me at least.” I snort, which Draco ignores. “It's not as black and white as you like to believe, Ginny. Fine. If you really want to know, I can tell you this much. There's a group of people, all very high up, that are not satisfied with how things are going. We-”
“Not satisfied? What else do they need – the blood of a muggleborn baby?”
“Don't be ridiculous. No one in politics really wants blood, it would be messy. What we want is stability and peace. After we take charge – ”
“By killing Higgs? I can't stay quiet on this, Draco, you know I can't. Even the Resistance talks only of a trial and imprisonment.”
“Are you sure about that? I'm pretty sure that most of them would not only kill Higgs, but also do so with pleasure.”
I grit my teeth. “I'm still sure there are better ways to achieve your goals than a murder.”
“We wanted to, believe me,” he says. “We have countless plans that involve his peaceful removal from the post, but they all have one major flaw. They require time, which we unfortunately are running out of. Very soon even his death will not help if Britain continues on the path Higgs has set.”
As I listen to his explanation, I can't help but think that I'm going to lose him. To this weird animal that is the world of power and cruelty, money and murder.
“Basically,” he goes on, “the aim is to turn the clogs back round to the way things were before. I'm not sure it's possible, but we can try. If not, a new order will become necessary.”
He speaks more about things I know little about, but one thing is becoming perfectly clear. They are all mad. My husband has displaced his precious marbles! Megalomania must be contagious.
“This is mad,” I say, sitting back up too. “This is a new dictatorship you are talking about. How is it different from the one we have now?”
“Everything is different!” He's gazing at me with this feverish gleam in his eyes that spells desperation. “Everything! The basis, our goals, the future! Surely you can see why we can't let up on the censorship of the press? Or release all the political prisoners just off the bat? There are real criminals among them!”
“But you can let all of the old Death Eaters go? Oh but yes, you can! They are your fathers, brothers and cousins. Of course you can!”
“It doesn't matter if they are! They are out of the picture for the moment; we'll deal with them when we have to, and when we can. They are not our immediate concern.”
He waits a bit as if I'm supposed to say something, but I can't. It's all too much. A fear, mind-numbing terror, grips me. Pictures of crazed rebels trying to assassinate Draco, the father of my child, flit through my head. Our home being raided and burned, my child hurt and orphaned. I feel a shiver start somewhere deep inside of me.
When I don't answer, Draco continues flatly, “I realise that you don't understand and I can accept that you don't approve. If you think it best, I'll arrange a safe house for you somewhere on the continent.”
There's a stretch of silence that neither of us knows how to fill. My eyes are closed again, but somehow I know that he's looking at me. I feel cold. It's so damn cold that I hug myself.
“Gin? Gin, are you alright?” I feel his tentative fingers on my cheek, as if he doesn't know if he's allowed to touch me. When I lean into the touch he, carefully at first, pulls me back into his arms. Then I melt into his embrace and he holds me so tightly I can feel his heart beat next to mine.
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Gin, that I've put you in this situation. I'm crap at taking care of other people; always thinking about myself. I just needed to tell someone so bad... I- I love you, Ginny, love. I love you so much it hurts! But if you want to leave now, I'll let you. I would never hurt your family because of it and I shouldn't have let you think otherwise, but I was so scared you'd leave me for good and now you're probably going to leave me anyway-”
“I've never heard you babble before,” I mumble into his chest.
He chuckles brokenly, but doesn't say anything any more.
“Relax, I love you too much to be going anywhere now,” I assure him and he squeezes me even tighter. “Besides, my brat needs a father to spoil him.”
I don't remind him that the baby might not even see his father or mother. I don't mention my fear that most of the Britain will hate our child on principle, or that we'll probably have to home-school him – or her – because of it. I'm sure Draco already knows.
“Not going to leave me then?”
My only answer is to shake my head, which is lying on his shoulder.
“Good. Thank you. We'll figure it out together. We'll make it work, all right?”
I nod, even though I'm not really sure I believe him. When he speaks after a while, his usual composure is back and we pretend that the emotional moment we had just now hasn't happened.
“Whatever happens in the future, Gin, I have to ask you, do not tell plans to anyone. I know you don't approve, Gin, but I'm doing it anyway. There's no choice; we tried to wait it out but the war is on the doorstep. Every bloody minute we wait is a minute closer to disaster. If you won't promise me not to tell anyone, I swear to Circe, I'll Obliviate you!”
He takes my face in his hands and touching my forehead with his, he whispers, “Promise me not to tell! Not even your family. It cannot reach the Rebellion yet. It's too soon.” His eyes are closed and despite the threat of Obliviating me, his whole body is saying 'please'.
“I promise.”
May 15th, 2005
In the end, they don't kill him. He has a stroke. It is so unexpected that when Draco comes home to tell me about it, he laughs out loud. He never laughs like that. It's not mirth that makes him do that, but shock and relief.
But the good hardly ever comes without the bad. Half an hour later he receives an urgent Floo call. Wizarding Britain has declared war on Wizarding France. Draco tells me to pack up and go to my parents'. He gives me the official permit for making the Burrow Unplottable. He must have got it beforehand and I love him just that much harder. In less than two hours the Manor is closed down to any kind of entry unless it's me or Draco. Then we hug and I Floo to the Burrow. I don't see my husband for two days.
May 17th, 2005
In the early morning a special edition of the Prophet arrives that declares the peace treaty with France and abolishes a number of racist laws, including the one that banished all muggleborns from Ministry work. Among other things, The Red List is declared invalidated, and all the families deported under that law are welcomed to return. They also promise to return all the dispossessed property. It's signed the Deputy Minister, Draco Malfoy.
Many people go to the streets that day to celebrate and wave banners. At least for a day my husband is the Lauded Liberator. It doesn't last.
Draco Floos me just two hours later to say that he'll come for me in the afternoon, but I wait in vain. At five Dad and Percy are asked to come in to work and around seven we hear that the Ministry is under attack. George brings Angelina over and disappears somewhere, saying, “I'll see what I can find out.” We don't see him for hours either.
Our wireless is on and I'm fiddling with it trying to find an unauthorised channel or two for some alternative news. It turns out that apparently, for some people only their own brand of freedom is acceptable. As outnumbered and weak as the Rebellion looked just a week ago, now even the minority within it seems terrifyingly dangerous.
Ironically, most of the Rebellion is now protecting the institution it was so keen on taking down just some days ago and my whole family is out there in defence. Angelina and I are left behind on the account of being pregnant and Mum says that she's staying in case we need her, but I know that she's more concerned about me. They both are.
Almost an hour later the Wizarding Wireless reports that the Death Eaters have made their foray into the battle. They don't say if this is a re-organised Neo DE fraction or bunch of crazed veterans. I try to contact Draco, but the Floo Network is either overloaded or down and we can't risk an owl being intercepted.
After half past ten Ron and Hermione return, saying that the Ministry's finally safe. It feels like I can breathe again.
“Harry's basically okay,” Ron tells us, as Mum is fussing with his arm which is in a makeshift sling. “He just had to go to St Mungo's to patch up a couple of scrapes. They had to almost drag him down there, you know how he is, but people wanted to be sure that their hero was all right. Ouch! I'm fine, Mum, stop that! Hermione's already healed it as much as currently possible.”
“Yes, and he'll be visiting the Healer in the morning,” Hermione adds quietly. It sounds like a threat and Ron scowls. “The only thing that's saved him the trip tonight is that St Mungo's is packed to the gills right now.”
This piece of information calms Mum down and she bustles everyone into the kitchen. The food is being devoured and now that Ron's mouth is full, Hermione continues relaying the events.
“Arthur and Percy are still there helping to organise the round-up of the rebellious element.”
“What about-” Angelina asks.
“George's fine, too,” Hermione is quick to calm her. “We saw him a while back, but he should be okay; he was helping the evacuation team.”
“Did you see Draco?” I ask. Although at first I'm not too seriously worried, the look that Ron and Hermione exchange sends chills down my spine.
“We haven't seen him, but there's no reason to think he wouldn't be fine, is there Ron?”
“Yes, and?” I cut him off rather sharply. “I know Draco would never step into a battle voluntarily. So what are you hiding? What have you heard?”
“Well,” Hermione starts cautiously, “Malfoy's the highest official right now, so I don't think he was actually in a battle.” She hesitates, then draws a sharp breath. “But, there's this rumour. They say that some time after the Death Eaters turned up, Malfoy had left instructions on how to handle the situation and then left the building. Percy said that he hasn't been seen since after eight o'clock.”
I nod. Despite feeling cold, I also a bit feel hot and faint. It must be really stuffy in here. I sit on the sofa and only half listen to Mum going on about how he must be fine because... why exactly? I stop listening. After some time I notice other family members Flooing back in. The Network must be up again. By the way they're asking how I'm holding up, I surmise that they haven't heard anything new. Unless they've heard something so awful that they don't want the pregnant wife to know. But I'm not going to think about that.
Suddenly there's an alarm of the outer wards and everyone rushes to the front windows, their wands drawn. I stand just behind George and it's difficult to see, but the tall figure of a Death Eater striding toward our porch is unmistakable. Just as everybody tenses in preparation for the fight I cry out, push George aside and throw the door open.
I hear Mum yell 'no' but I hardly care. I've only stepped down the porch when the Death Eater reaches for the grime- and blood-covered mask and lifts it off his face. Draco's cheeks are streaked with tears. When his hands encircle my waist, his legs give out and we crash down to our knees. He's shaking and is probably hurt, but he's alive and for now, that is enough.
June, 2011
“Congratulations, Mr Malfoy! Or should I say, Minister?”
“That would be the proper title, wouldn't it?” My husband smiles magnanimously as he shakes the hundredth hand.
I'm getting tired but Draco is still riding out the high of his victory. Fortunately, my son saved me by demanding to be fed and I leave for the quarters appointed to us. When I leave Draco's side, he throws me a private smile that only his immediate family sees. The Malfoy family nowadays include our devious five year old girl and a beautiful baby boy of a year and a half. Catherine is with her grand-mum today but we decided that our ginger-haired child should make a public appearance.
I can't believe we actually won, I think as I sit down in a comfortable armchair to breastfeed. Or well, Draco won, but it was a joint effort and I can take some credit. Naturally, there will be voices that will try to prove the invalidity of the elections later today, but that's free press for you.
“I bet nothing will pry Draco Malfoy from the Minister's post until the next regular elections.”
“Hermione?” I turn to her, surprised. When I heard the door open and close I thought that Draco had sent his secretary to check up on me.
“Yes, it's your sister-in-law. So, how does it feel to be a wife of the lawfully elected Minister for Magic?”
Hermione rounds my armchair and sits down in another one opposite me.
“Weird.” I smile. “But after seeing how well Draco handled the press and ahem, basically everybody after the May Mutiny in 2005, it's silly to be surprised.”
“Stepping down from the Deputy Minister's post when the hearings started was a wise decision on his part. After that it was easy to show that he only wanted the best for the country and the 'power hungry' label was hung around other politicians' necks.” Hermione pulls a face, like she doesn't really know if she should be glad or aggravated at Draco's success. In the end she grins at me.
“And you can't discount the wisdom of being the first Ministry official to take a Muggleborn back into Ministry's employ.” I bask in the brilliance that is my husband.
“And since it was me...” Hermione nods with put-on solemnity.
“Right,” I agree. “He couldn't have gone wrong with that. The wisdom of inviting a Muggleborn war hero into his office probably saved his career.” I nod sagely back.
“Are you saying that if I wasn't a war hero, I wouldn't have been his saving grace?”
“Oh, I'm certain you would have. Even Draco I-Know-Best Malfoy had to bow down before your smarts in the end. But you have to admit that your being a third of the Golden Trio helped tremendously before you even started the magic of your strategy.”
Hermione sighs, as she turns serious. “Thank you for the compliment, but you know as well as I do that I didn't do it for Draco. Unlike some people I don't enjoy politics.”
“Yes, because doing so is a terrible crime indeed.”
Hermione smiles for a moment. “Not a crime per se, but don't you think that getting your thrills out of running a country is a bit narcissistic?”
“Draco is not narcissistic,” I say quietly, because the child in my arms has fallen asleep.
“Maybe not, but don't tell me you think that he entered politics with the noble idea of bringing Higgs down.”
“No,” I have to agree. “Probably not.”
“Well, I did. Or... you know, joined to help to get us out of a crisis, not to bring Higgs down, but you know what I meant.” Hermione waits for my confirmation and continues, “I do like my job, but pulling one over my opponent is still not my idea of fun. Not that it necessarily makes me a better person, but... I just feel that politics is... Ginny, you must agree that the last several years have been simply horrible! The idea of having a puppet Minister, even for a little while, still fills me with righteous indignation. I abhorred Malfoy pulling the strings from the shadows.” Hermione shudders. “Mostly, the thin line between maintaining order and dictatorship was not on my side of the argument. But I am grateful for the opportunity to help out. And I did. I worked my arse off to get the best results.”
“I know you did, Hermione. And Draco knows it too.”
“Yes, he told me.” Hermione makes a visible effort to lighten up and smiles mischievously. “Do you know that most of the time, Malfoy and I just argued? Loudly.” She laughs. “The whole office was in uproar while we were working out one strategy or another.”
I chuckle too and my son wakes up and starts sucking again.
“Hey, little one, haven't you had enough already?” I glance at Hermione and grin. “Fun times. I remember the time Draco came home so angry I thought he'd murder someone. I realised at once it was your fault though, so I wasn't worried. He stomped right past me into the western parlour with the hideous gold-embroidered couch and garish tapestries, if you remember me complaining about it. It had been Draco's grand-mama's favourite room or something and he refused to change anything about it, although we never brought anyone in there.
“Anyway, that evening Draco stomped right past me and blasted the whole room into pieces! He only calmed down when Cathy woke up crying.” I laugh. “I'd been insisting on redecorating the room for ages by then and Draco really hated the décor too, he just...” I shake my head. “The room was driving me crazy. Thank you for that.”
“No problem.” Hermione smiles before standing. “Well, I think I'll just go then; let your beauty sleep in peace.”
My son has indeed fallen asleep again and I remove him from my breast.
“No wait,” I stop her. “I wanted to tell you thank you. I mean seriously. I know that you disapproved of a lot of things that Draco did back then, and maybe some of what he is doing now. But I want you to know that we both appreciate the help you provided while working in his department.”
“Well, it did help my own career along too, didn't it?”
I shrug good-naturedly. “It probably did. And I don't necessarily agree with a lot of things done during that period either. Nor does he. I think. But I also think that it could have been a lot worse had he and his team not taken charge.”
Hermione simply observes me for a moment.
“You really are proud of him, aren't you?”
“Yes, I really am. I know that the next generation may well condemn most of what was done, but somebody had to do the dirty work. Everybody can't be idealists.”
When Hermione leaves, I think about how happy I am to be a part of what Draco has done and will be doing in the future. Half of me is terribly afraid of having to pull him down from some kind of rampage-slash-power-trip in some distant future, but Draco is not his father. A lot has changed in our world and I firmly believe that he has too.
The door opens once more and now it is my husband who enters.
“Is he asleep?” Draco asks me quietly.
I nod. “How long do they need you here? I was thinking of going home.”
“Hm...” Draco puts his arm around me and leads me away from the couch end where I've barricaded the sleeping baby with pillows. “What if we asked Celia to look after him for an hour? He's just sleeping anyway. Then I could parade my beautiful wife in front of the old and boring, eh?”
“You're calling them old and boring now, are you? Just an hour ago you went out of your way to charm them while boasting about how you broke the Death Eaters' resistance the night of the Mutiny.”
“That's not what I was doing at all. In fact, I downplayed my role however I could. I did, after all, stress the importance of Potter's defence tactics in the Atrium, didn't I?” Draco smirks.
“Yes, that's what you wanted them to think. Harry blushes every time his heroic conduct is brought up.”
I can see Draco's amusement in the line of his lips and sparkle of his eyes. “The memory of crimson Potter does help, thank you.” He nods complacently. “Thinking about that night being added to the endless list of his heroic deeds would be almost intolerable without it.”
I punch his arm, but he stifles his cry and points to the couch.
“Don't worry, oh jealous one, you've made it into the newest history books too. Although I believe your part in suppressing the Mutiny is heavily exaggerated and glorified.”
“Not as much as Potter's,” he says and I believe him.
It's actually one of the pillars of Draco's good standing with the wizarding Britain that he supports the belief of Harry being an instrumental force in winning the battle. George taunts Harry mercilessly about it too.
“So, how about it then? The walk-about to show our beauty and superiority among the living in the banquette hall?”
His hand is warm in mine as we walk down the hall. I glance at him and smile. He smiles back.
Life is good, I think right then. Draco still works like a beast and is never home, and we still argue up a storm occasionally, but now we know how to get past it. And sometimes we break things and sometimes we don't talk, but that's beside the point. The point is that now it's not the end of the world when we do.
I know that Draco Malfoy has hurt me a lot in the past and will probably do so in the future, but that's life. I know that I've hurt him a lot too and will again. Life, though, is nothing without love, and we have that.
FIN
Silence is golden…but sometimes it’s just plain yellow.
- Author unknown
May 7th, 2005
Today Draco comes home very late and I’m too sleepy greet him. He slips under the blanket next to me.
“Gin?”
I don’t answer right away, but he starts whispering urgently, as if he's been holding back for a long time. He must think I’m asleep.
“Higgs has totally lost his plot and I can't stop him. Nobody can. And if no one does, there will be war. I don't know what to do. He's totally barmy and there's nothing I can do. Nothing.”
Alert and more awake than I like, I turn to him. “What happened? War with who?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry. I didn't want to worry you, since you are pregnant. I just...”
“I'm fine. War with who? When?”
“Can't tell yet.”
Draco looks lost, and he's not supposed to look lost, or confused, or scared. He's an I'm-Always-In-Control type of a wizard.
“And don't bother searching my study,” he goes on, a bit calmer. “There's nothing there. In fact, there is nothing in the whole Manor that would interest your Rebellion, so don't even try.”
There's a pause while I gape at him like a dead fish. “What about-”
“And please, don't try breaking into my Ministry office either. If any of you got caught, half of your family would be arrested and none of us would escape investigation.” There's a pause again while he stares at me intently. “Don't do anything just yet. I'll tell you more when you actually can help, all right?”
There's nothing soft in his demeanour, but for Draco Malfoy this seems almost like begging, so I utter my consent.
May 8th, 2005
“We're killing him,” he tells me the next night, while lying under the sheets with me. Just as last night, his voice is quiet and urgent as if he's afraid that we might be overheard. “Please don't hate me, Gin. We have to. There's just no other option. He's going to ruin Britain. There could be another war. Possibly civil. Or against Muggles. There's only a handful of people at the Ministry that I can trust not to side with this madness.”
There's a short pause but before I can even start objecting to the awful news, he continues, “And before you decide that you can never care for someone like me, hear me out.”
I want to hit him and scream, but there's something so desperate in his voice that I clam up and stay still in his arms. What he tells me then is not what I expect.
“I didn't tell you the whole truth about Theo's death. I failed to mention that it was Theo who heard me and someone else talking about overthrowing Higgs, not the other way around.”
“You lied?” I'm angry enough to try and leave his embrace, but he doesn't let me.
“Not exactly. I said that I told Higgs I overheard them plotting and it's true. But I lied to Higgs then. Theo was never part of us.”
“Us? You've been sneaking around behind the Minister's back for a long time then?”
“Almost from the start. At first, there were only two of us, but it grew as Higgs's insanity became clearer.”
“And you conveniently forgot to tell me about it?”
“Forgot? No.” His tone is sardonic, but what makes me reign in my temper a bit is the resignation I hear. “But what would it achieve? You couldn't really help and I didn't think you'd want to. Our vision of a resistance isn't even remotely similar to the Rebellion's tactics.”
“And what about how Nott died? Didn't you think I would have liked to know?”
“No. You didn't. Not back then, at least. You had already decided that I was the bad guy. You probably still think that. I had no reason to think you'd believe me.”
“I would have actually. I might have given you shit about it, but I'd have believed you eventually. I was really beat up about your apparent support of the Minister.” His lack of trust is not surprising, but it hurts nonetheless. “And why would I believe you now?” My tone is somewhat testy.
I see his jaw working with suppressed tension.
“I don't know. Because you care about me now?”
“It's 'care' now, is it? What happened to 'love'? You think I'm so fickle that my feelings change after every little story you weave?”
I'm so hurt that I don't notice my slip until I see the baffled look in his eyes, and realise that neither of us has actually ever used the word 'love' before. I'd gotten so used to thinking that magical word in my head, that I forgot I might be the only one feeling it. Maybe he did mean a simple appreciation and I was just being stupid again. The doubt grips me and I try to pull free.
“Love? Is that what you meant, Gin?” He wraps himself around me, not letting go. “I wasn't sure. I hoped, but... Do you love me then? Gin? Please, say something!”
I still and look at him. I can see it clearly now, that glint, that spark, that shade in his eyes. It's been there for a while, but I was never brave enough to grant it its proper name. Love.
“Yes, Draco,” I admit quietly. “That's what I meant. I'm sorry it took me so long to realise it. And I'm so very sorry that I've never been able to recognize it in you,” I say even more quietly. For a moment his eyes shine with happiness I've never seen there before, but when I disentangle myself from his arms, it dulls.
“Yes, I do love you,” I go on decisively, “but it doesn't make me accept the idea of you simply killing another man because it's convenient, Draco. Higgs might be crazy, but you can't just kill him! Surely there are legal ways...”
“Legal ways to what? To declare him insane?” His tone is very dry, as he sits up against the bedstead. “Who would have enough power to do that? He is the law, Gin, you know that. There are so few who think like we do, and only a few of them are trustworthy.”
“So what do you plan to do once he's dead? Declare yourself the new Minister for Magic?”
I am being sarcastic, but the moment the words leave my mouth I realise that Draco's posture goes rigid and he's pointedly staring at the opposite wall.
“Dear Merlin and ancient wizards! You do, don't you! Are you mad?”
“You don't trust me at all, do you?” There is a resigned bitterness to his words. I don't answer him because there is no good answer. Draco continues, “Power is too important to let just anybody to have it, Gin. You do understand that, don't you?”
“Yes. But you? The Minister for Magic?”
“And why not me?” Draco is angry, but for once he's not trying to hide it. “And if not me, then who? Who would you trust with that power? Your father? Granger? Saint Potter?”
“Of course not! They wouldn't... They...”
“What? They are too good to mar themselves with politics?”
“No, it's not what I meant.” I hesitate, because a part of me did mean it like that and he knows it. “I just meant that maybe there's someone else at the Ministry, who'd-”
“No,” he cuts me off. “It has to be me. There's no one else.”
“Power corrupts, Draco,” I whisper. It's not that I'm scared, because what is there to be scared of? It's just that I really want him to reconsider.
It's not a surprise when Draco just laughs quietly. “Thank you for pointing out the obvious, wife dear. But if I'm so easily corrupted, don't you think it's already too late to save me?”
He's right, of course. Malfoys have probably been corrupted since Merlin walked the earth and Draco is no exception.
“Is there really no one else you can trust with it?” I ask, not really thinking my prodding will help anything. “How many of you are there?”
“Just six, but even if there were six times six, it wouldn't matter.” He turns back to me and his eyes are beseeching. “I need to do this. You see my father – and grandfather, I suppose – “
“Oh please! Don't give me that shite about upholding the family name and what not! I don't care-”
“Would you just let me finish?” Draco says very quietly again and since it's his angry voice I close my eyes and pretend to ignore him. It's childish, but I'm really listening and he knows it.
“As I was saying when you interrupted me, my esteemed father was one of the people who helped to turn our world upside down.” It sounds like a question as if he is waiting for me to fill the silence, but I have no idea where he's going with it. After a moment he goes on. “But that doesn't matter anymore. Forget I mentioned him,” he says abruptly and I just blink in bewilderment. “It's not that I particularly want to be the Minister,” he goes on more calmly. “But somebody has to and no one at the Ministry has the guts for it. Some very hard decisions will have to be made, Gin. It will not be easy and I'm willing to do this. I'm going to build a good team and do anything I can to avoid the catastrophe. And as for being corrupted?” Suddenly he grins rakishly, but it looks quite weird on his face. “I already have more money and power than I could ever wish for.”
Faintly, I smile back and settle back down on the pillow. I close my eyes again, though it's not to sleep, but to think.
Draco shifts restlessly for a while, but I'm so tired that I still almost manage to fall asleep.
“Are you going to leave me over this?”
I open my eyes and turn to him sharply. “Over politics? Don't be an idiot! I might want to leave you over killing Higgs, but not because of your political aspirations.” When his features relax marginally, I add, ”You'll need a good wife if you are to campaign for the post.”
I close my eyes for the nth time after I see Draco nod as if he'd always known what my answer would be. I'm sleepy. After a moment I can feel his body shift again as if he's allowed himself to relax at last.
“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you,“ I utter quietly from my side of the bed and he fakes a small laugh, which I interpret into an embarrassment.
“Scare? I'm not afraid of you, you silly woman.”
“All right, you manly man, you, tell me more about the club of crazies you joined.”
“Founded, not joined, do try to keep up. Wife.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “And they are not crazy. No more than me at least.” I snort, which Draco ignores. “It's not as black and white as you like to believe, Ginny. Fine. If you really want to know, I can tell you this much. There's a group of people, all very high up, that are not satisfied with how things are going. We-”
“Not satisfied? What else do they need – the blood of a muggleborn baby?”
“Don't be ridiculous. No one in politics really wants blood, it would be messy. What we want is stability and peace. After we take charge – ”
“By killing Higgs? I can't stay quiet on this, Draco, you know I can't. Even the Resistance talks only of a trial and imprisonment.”
“Are you sure about that? I'm pretty sure that most of them would not only kill Higgs, but also do so with pleasure.”
I grit my teeth. “I'm still sure there are better ways to achieve your goals than a murder.”
“We wanted to, believe me,” he says. “We have countless plans that involve his peaceful removal from the post, but they all have one major flaw. They require time, which we unfortunately are running out of. Very soon even his death will not help if Britain continues on the path Higgs has set.”
As I listen to his explanation, I can't help but think that I'm going to lose him. To this weird animal that is the world of power and cruelty, money and murder.
“Basically,” he goes on, “the aim is to turn the clogs back round to the way things were before. I'm not sure it's possible, but we can try. If not, a new order will become necessary.”
He speaks more about things I know little about, but one thing is becoming perfectly clear. They are all mad. My husband has displaced his precious marbles! Megalomania must be contagious.
“This is mad,” I say, sitting back up too. “This is a new dictatorship you are talking about. How is it different from the one we have now?”
“Everything is different!” He's gazing at me with this feverish gleam in his eyes that spells desperation. “Everything! The basis, our goals, the future! Surely you can see why we can't let up on the censorship of the press? Or release all the political prisoners just off the bat? There are real criminals among them!”
“But you can let all of the old Death Eaters go? Oh but yes, you can! They are your fathers, brothers and cousins. Of course you can!”
“It doesn't matter if they are! They are out of the picture for the moment; we'll deal with them when we have to, and when we can. They are not our immediate concern.”
He waits a bit as if I'm supposed to say something, but I can't. It's all too much. A fear, mind-numbing terror, grips me. Pictures of crazed rebels trying to assassinate Draco, the father of my child, flit through my head. Our home being raided and burned, my child hurt and orphaned. I feel a shiver start somewhere deep inside of me.
When I don't answer, Draco continues flatly, “I realise that you don't understand and I can accept that you don't approve. If you think it best, I'll arrange a safe house for you somewhere on the continent.”
There's a stretch of silence that neither of us knows how to fill. My eyes are closed again, but somehow I know that he's looking at me. I feel cold. It's so damn cold that I hug myself.
“Gin? Gin, are you alright?” I feel his tentative fingers on my cheek, as if he doesn't know if he's allowed to touch me. When I lean into the touch he, carefully at first, pulls me back into his arms. Then I melt into his embrace and he holds me so tightly I can feel his heart beat next to mine.
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Gin, that I've put you in this situation. I'm crap at taking care of other people; always thinking about myself. I just needed to tell someone so bad... I- I love you, Ginny, love. I love you so much it hurts! But if you want to leave now, I'll let you. I would never hurt your family because of it and I shouldn't have let you think otherwise, but I was so scared you'd leave me for good and now you're probably going to leave me anyway-”
“I've never heard you babble before,” I mumble into his chest.
He chuckles brokenly, but doesn't say anything any more.
“Relax, I love you too much to be going anywhere now,” I assure him and he squeezes me even tighter. “Besides, my brat needs a father to spoil him.”
I don't remind him that the baby might not even see his father or mother. I don't mention my fear that most of the Britain will hate our child on principle, or that we'll probably have to home-school him – or her – because of it. I'm sure Draco already knows.
“Not going to leave me then?”
My only answer is to shake my head, which is lying on his shoulder.
“Good. Thank you. We'll figure it out together. We'll make it work, all right?”
I nod, even though I'm not really sure I believe him. When he speaks after a while, his usual composure is back and we pretend that the emotional moment we had just now hasn't happened.
“Whatever happens in the future, Gin, I have to ask you, do not tell plans to anyone. I know you don't approve, Gin, but I'm doing it anyway. There's no choice; we tried to wait it out but the war is on the doorstep. Every bloody minute we wait is a minute closer to disaster. If you won't promise me not to tell anyone, I swear to Circe, I'll Obliviate you!”
He takes my face in his hands and touching my forehead with his, he whispers, “Promise me not to tell! Not even your family. It cannot reach the Rebellion yet. It's too soon.” His eyes are closed and despite the threat of Obliviating me, his whole body is saying 'please'.
“I promise.”
May 15th, 2005
In the end, they don't kill him. He has a stroke. It is so unexpected that when Draco comes home to tell me about it, he laughs out loud. He never laughs like that. It's not mirth that makes him do that, but shock and relief.
But the good hardly ever comes without the bad. Half an hour later he receives an urgent Floo call. Wizarding Britain has declared war on Wizarding France. Draco tells me to pack up and go to my parents'. He gives me the official permit for making the Burrow Unplottable. He must have got it beforehand and I love him just that much harder. In less than two hours the Manor is closed down to any kind of entry unless it's me or Draco. Then we hug and I Floo to the Burrow. I don't see my husband for two days.
May 17th, 2005
In the early morning a special edition of the Prophet arrives that declares the peace treaty with France and abolishes a number of racist laws, including the one that banished all muggleborns from Ministry work. Among other things, The Red List is declared invalidated, and all the families deported under that law are welcomed to return. They also promise to return all the dispossessed property. It's signed the Deputy Minister, Draco Malfoy.
Many people go to the streets that day to celebrate and wave banners. At least for a day my husband is the Lauded Liberator. It doesn't last.
Draco Floos me just two hours later to say that he'll come for me in the afternoon, but I wait in vain. At five Dad and Percy are asked to come in to work and around seven we hear that the Ministry is under attack. George brings Angelina over and disappears somewhere, saying, “I'll see what I can find out.” We don't see him for hours either.
Our wireless is on and I'm fiddling with it trying to find an unauthorised channel or two for some alternative news. It turns out that apparently, for some people only their own brand of freedom is acceptable. As outnumbered and weak as the Rebellion looked just a week ago, now even the minority within it seems terrifyingly dangerous.
Ironically, most of the Rebellion is now protecting the institution it was so keen on taking down just some days ago and my whole family is out there in defence. Angelina and I are left behind on the account of being pregnant and Mum says that she's staying in case we need her, but I know that she's more concerned about me. They both are.
Almost an hour later the Wizarding Wireless reports that the Death Eaters have made their foray into the battle. They don't say if this is a re-organised Neo DE fraction or bunch of crazed veterans. I try to contact Draco, but the Floo Network is either overloaded or down and we can't risk an owl being intercepted.
After half past ten Ron and Hermione return, saying that the Ministry's finally safe. It feels like I can breathe again.
“Harry's basically okay,” Ron tells us, as Mum is fussing with his arm which is in a makeshift sling. “He just had to go to St Mungo's to patch up a couple of scrapes. They had to almost drag him down there, you know how he is, but people wanted to be sure that their hero was all right. Ouch! I'm fine, Mum, stop that! Hermione's already healed it as much as currently possible.”
“Yes, and he'll be visiting the Healer in the morning,” Hermione adds quietly. It sounds like a threat and Ron scowls. “The only thing that's saved him the trip tonight is that St Mungo's is packed to the gills right now.”
This piece of information calms Mum down and she bustles everyone into the kitchen. The food is being devoured and now that Ron's mouth is full, Hermione continues relaying the events.
“Arthur and Percy are still there helping to organise the round-up of the rebellious element.”
“What about-” Angelina asks.
“George's fine, too,” Hermione is quick to calm her. “We saw him a while back, but he should be okay; he was helping the evacuation team.”
“Did you see Draco?” I ask. Although at first I'm not too seriously worried, the look that Ron and Hermione exchange sends chills down my spine.
“We haven't seen him, but there's no reason to think he wouldn't be fine, is there Ron?”
“Yes, and?” I cut him off rather sharply. “I know Draco would never step into a battle voluntarily. So what are you hiding? What have you heard?”
“Well,” Hermione starts cautiously, “Malfoy's the highest official right now, so I don't think he was actually in a battle.” She hesitates, then draws a sharp breath. “But, there's this rumour. They say that some time after the Death Eaters turned up, Malfoy had left instructions on how to handle the situation and then left the building. Percy said that he hasn't been seen since after eight o'clock.”
I nod. Despite feeling cold, I also a bit feel hot and faint. It must be really stuffy in here. I sit on the sofa and only half listen to Mum going on about how he must be fine because... why exactly? I stop listening. After some time I notice other family members Flooing back in. The Network must be up again. By the way they're asking how I'm holding up, I surmise that they haven't heard anything new. Unless they've heard something so awful that they don't want the pregnant wife to know. But I'm not going to think about that.
Suddenly there's an alarm of the outer wards and everyone rushes to the front windows, their wands drawn. I stand just behind George and it's difficult to see, but the tall figure of a Death Eater striding toward our porch is unmistakable. Just as everybody tenses in preparation for the fight I cry out, push George aside and throw the door open.
I hear Mum yell 'no' but I hardly care. I've only stepped down the porch when the Death Eater reaches for the grime- and blood-covered mask and lifts it off his face. Draco's cheeks are streaked with tears. When his hands encircle my waist, his legs give out and we crash down to our knees. He's shaking and is probably hurt, but he's alive and for now, that is enough.
June, 2011
“Congratulations, Mr Malfoy! Or should I say, Minister?”
“That would be the proper title, wouldn't it?” My husband smiles magnanimously as he shakes the hundredth hand.
I'm getting tired but Draco is still riding out the high of his victory. Fortunately, my son saved me by demanding to be fed and I leave for the quarters appointed to us. When I leave Draco's side, he throws me a private smile that only his immediate family sees. The Malfoy family nowadays include our devious five year old girl and a beautiful baby boy of a year and a half. Catherine is with her grand-mum today but we decided that our ginger-haired child should make a public appearance.
I can't believe we actually won, I think as I sit down in a comfortable armchair to breastfeed. Or well, Draco won, but it was a joint effort and I can take some credit. Naturally, there will be voices that will try to prove the invalidity of the elections later today, but that's free press for you.
“I bet nothing will pry Draco Malfoy from the Minister's post until the next regular elections.”
“Hermione?” I turn to her, surprised. When I heard the door open and close I thought that Draco had sent his secretary to check up on me.
“Yes, it's your sister-in-law. So, how does it feel to be a wife of the lawfully elected Minister for Magic?”
Hermione rounds my armchair and sits down in another one opposite me.
“Weird.” I smile. “But after seeing how well Draco handled the press and ahem, basically everybody after the May Mutiny in 2005, it's silly to be surprised.”
“Stepping down from the Deputy Minister's post when the hearings started was a wise decision on his part. After that it was easy to show that he only wanted the best for the country and the 'power hungry' label was hung around other politicians' necks.” Hermione pulls a face, like she doesn't really know if she should be glad or aggravated at Draco's success. In the end she grins at me.
“And you can't discount the wisdom of being the first Ministry official to take a Muggleborn back into Ministry's employ.” I bask in the brilliance that is my husband.
“And since it was me...” Hermione nods with put-on solemnity.
“Right,” I agree. “He couldn't have gone wrong with that. The wisdom of inviting a Muggleborn war hero into his office probably saved his career.” I nod sagely back.
“Are you saying that if I wasn't a war hero, I wouldn't have been his saving grace?”
“Oh, I'm certain you would have. Even Draco I-Know-Best Malfoy had to bow down before your smarts in the end. But you have to admit that your being a third of the Golden Trio helped tremendously before you even started the magic of your strategy.”
Hermione sighs, as she turns serious. “Thank you for the compliment, but you know as well as I do that I didn't do it for Draco. Unlike some people I don't enjoy politics.”
“Yes, because doing so is a terrible crime indeed.”
Hermione smiles for a moment. “Not a crime per se, but don't you think that getting your thrills out of running a country is a bit narcissistic?”
“Draco is not narcissistic,” I say quietly, because the child in my arms has fallen asleep.
“Maybe not, but don't tell me you think that he entered politics with the noble idea of bringing Higgs down.”
“No,” I have to agree. “Probably not.”
“Well, I did. Or... you know, joined to help to get us out of a crisis, not to bring Higgs down, but you know what I meant.” Hermione waits for my confirmation and continues, “I do like my job, but pulling one over my opponent is still not my idea of fun. Not that it necessarily makes me a better person, but... I just feel that politics is... Ginny, you must agree that the last several years have been simply horrible! The idea of having a puppet Minister, even for a little while, still fills me with righteous indignation. I abhorred Malfoy pulling the strings from the shadows.” Hermione shudders. “Mostly, the thin line between maintaining order and dictatorship was not on my side of the argument. But I am grateful for the opportunity to help out. And I did. I worked my arse off to get the best results.”
“I know you did, Hermione. And Draco knows it too.”
“Yes, he told me.” Hermione makes a visible effort to lighten up and smiles mischievously. “Do you know that most of the time, Malfoy and I just argued? Loudly.” She laughs. “The whole office was in uproar while we were working out one strategy or another.”
I chuckle too and my son wakes up and starts sucking again.
“Hey, little one, haven't you had enough already?” I glance at Hermione and grin. “Fun times. I remember the time Draco came home so angry I thought he'd murder someone. I realised at once it was your fault though, so I wasn't worried. He stomped right past me into the western parlour with the hideous gold-embroidered couch and garish tapestries, if you remember me complaining about it. It had been Draco's grand-mama's favourite room or something and he refused to change anything about it, although we never brought anyone in there.
“Anyway, that evening Draco stomped right past me and blasted the whole room into pieces! He only calmed down when Cathy woke up crying.” I laugh. “I'd been insisting on redecorating the room for ages by then and Draco really hated the décor too, he just...” I shake my head. “The room was driving me crazy. Thank you for that.”
“No problem.” Hermione smiles before standing. “Well, I think I'll just go then; let your beauty sleep in peace.”
My son has indeed fallen asleep again and I remove him from my breast.
“No wait,” I stop her. “I wanted to tell you thank you. I mean seriously. I know that you disapproved of a lot of things that Draco did back then, and maybe some of what he is doing now. But I want you to know that we both appreciate the help you provided while working in his department.”
“Well, it did help my own career along too, didn't it?”
I shrug good-naturedly. “It probably did. And I don't necessarily agree with a lot of things done during that period either. Nor does he. I think. But I also think that it could have been a lot worse had he and his team not taken charge.”
Hermione simply observes me for a moment.
“You really are proud of him, aren't you?”
“Yes, I really am. I know that the next generation may well condemn most of what was done, but somebody had to do the dirty work. Everybody can't be idealists.”
When Hermione leaves, I think about how happy I am to be a part of what Draco has done and will be doing in the future. Half of me is terribly afraid of having to pull him down from some kind of rampage-slash-power-trip in some distant future, but Draco is not his father. A lot has changed in our world and I firmly believe that he has too.
The door opens once more and now it is my husband who enters.
“Is he asleep?” Draco asks me quietly.
I nod. “How long do they need you here? I was thinking of going home.”
“Hm...” Draco puts his arm around me and leads me away from the couch end where I've barricaded the sleeping baby with pillows. “What if we asked Celia to look after him for an hour? He's just sleeping anyway. Then I could parade my beautiful wife in front of the old and boring, eh?”
“You're calling them old and boring now, are you? Just an hour ago you went out of your way to charm them while boasting about how you broke the Death Eaters' resistance the night of the Mutiny.”
“That's not what I was doing at all. In fact, I downplayed my role however I could. I did, after all, stress the importance of Potter's defence tactics in the Atrium, didn't I?” Draco smirks.
“Yes, that's what you wanted them to think. Harry blushes every time his heroic conduct is brought up.”
I can see Draco's amusement in the line of his lips and sparkle of his eyes. “The memory of crimson Potter does help, thank you.” He nods complacently. “Thinking about that night being added to the endless list of his heroic deeds would be almost intolerable without it.”
I punch his arm, but he stifles his cry and points to the couch.
“Don't worry, oh jealous one, you've made it into the newest history books too. Although I believe your part in suppressing the Mutiny is heavily exaggerated and glorified.”
“Not as much as Potter's,” he says and I believe him.
It's actually one of the pillars of Draco's good standing with the wizarding Britain that he supports the belief of Harry being an instrumental force in winning the battle. George taunts Harry mercilessly about it too.
“So, how about it then? The walk-about to show our beauty and superiority among the living in the banquette hall?”
His hand is warm in mine as we walk down the hall. I glance at him and smile. He smiles back.
Life is good, I think right then. Draco still works like a beast and is never home, and we still argue up a storm occasionally, but now we know how to get past it. And sometimes we break things and sometimes we don't talk, but that's beside the point. The point is that now it's not the end of the world when we do.
I know that Draco Malfoy has hurt me a lot in the past and will probably do so in the future, but that's life. I know that I've hurt him a lot too and will again. Life, though, is nothing without love, and we have that.
FIN
Author notes: Thank you all for reading and especially those of you who reviewed. You are the ones that's kept me posting. :) I haven't answered any reviews this time for two reasons. First is, that it takes a lot of time and I think that nothing will show my appreciation for your reviews more than my actually working on the story and posting this blasted ending. I hope nobody was disappointed. The second reason is that quite a few replies might be interesting for more people than a couple of people. (Or maybe I'm just deluding myself.) Anyway, I decided to post a long-long-long entry on my blog (on Oct 17th) dealing with all the questions about the 'Silence' and also the sequel.
But before you all run amok for the blog link in my bio page, please be nice to a starving author and let me know how you liked the ending/the story/a scene/whatever. Was it happy enough? ;)
The End.
serinah is the author of 4 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 22 members. Members who liked Silence also liked 1409 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 22 members. Members who liked Silence also liked 1409 other stories.
Leave a Review