When she had finally become coherent in her thoughts, she found herself being rocked back and forth against his chest. It was peculiar, Ginny decided, that Draco Malfoy would be so sympathetic and caring when not ten minutes ago he was acting as though he could barely feel anything. He was just as broken as she was, but in a strange way, it dulled the pain. It allowed her to seek solace in someone who knew exactly what she was going through. But it almost made her feel worse. Draco had been widowed for over ten years, and still he was unable to move on. Still he was unable to look at her picture.
Draco helped her to her feet and led her into his dining room. He only looked straight ahead of them – never at her – but Ginny could only stare. His jaw was set in a firm line, covered with a coarse layer of salt and pepper stubble, and he had shallow wrinkles around his eyes and forehead. Up close she was able to see how much Astoria’s death had aged his features, but somehow it made him that much more handsome. The lines of his face were softened and much less pointed, and his almost constant expression of grief was a breath of fresh air compared to the scowl that was always plastered on his face when he was a teenager.
He pulled out a chair for her at the kitchen table. “How do you take your tea?”
She smiled slightly, gracefully accepting the offered seat. “Two creams, three sugars, and a wedge of lemon, please,” she answered.
Draco entered the kitchen to prepare her tea, returning only a few moments later. When he returned, Ginny had not moved even an inch from where she had been. Her feet were up on the chair so that she could rest her chin on her knees, and her arms were protectively wrapped around her legs. She looked sad, confused, and small.
“Thanks,” she said, accepting the mug that Draco held out for her. “You know, you didn’t have to make this for me. I could’ve just gone home, you know.”
“I’m not letting you leave in the state you’re in,” he said, sitting across from her and folding his arms over his chest. He paused for a moment, eyeing her critically as she sipped her tea. “So, are you going to talk about it?”
“About Harry?” she asked. “No.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“Because I apparently wrote myself a note in thirty years, and –”
“Yes, I got that,” he snapped, cutting her off before she had the opportunity to retell the story. He paused again. She was tense and shivering from the chill in the air. “So, why do you think that you wrote it, then? What do you think you’re supposed to be doing?”
She locked eyes with him for the first time that day. Her warm brown eyes searched his icey grey orbs for a hint of malice – an indication that he was making fun of her. She found nothing but the grief that she had sensed from the moment they had begun speaking. “I’m supposed to help you.”
“I don’t need your help, Weasley.”
Ginny nibbled on her bottom lip, cocking her head to the side. “You’ve changed a lot, Draco,” she said.
“Well, of course I’ve changed. I haven’t seen you since I was seventeen.”
“Yeah, I know that,” Ginny agreed with a nod. “We may not have been friends when we were at school, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t notice you. When I say that you’re different, I don’t just mean you’ve grown up. I mean you aren’t even the same person. You’re a shell of yourself, and I think I can help you. I think that’s what I’m supposed to do.”
Draco nodded, pondering what Ginny had said. “How do you know it isn’t the other way around?” he asked.
“Because your future self didn’t tell you to help me, that’s why.”
“That’s because my future self isn’t annoying.”
“This is pointless,” Ginny said with a roll of her eyes. She stood up, taking one last gulp of tea. “Obviously, this whole thing was just a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here, and I’m very sorry that I bothered you. You’re obviously beyond help – beyond all hope and reconciliation. I’ve wasted your precious time as well as mine, so I’ll just go.”
Draco stood also. “No, wait.” He walked to her side of the table. “I’m not trying to push you away. I haven’t spoken to anyone in a long time, and it’s actually kind of nice to have someone to talk to.” It appeared almost painful for him to make such a confession.
In those mere seconds, Ginny realised how wrong she had been about something. He was grief-stricken and miserable, causing himself to age far beyond his time, but he wasn’t beyond hope. Draco Malfoy didn’t know how to get himself out of the trap he was in and fix his life. Even though he wanted to, he had no idea how to get better and move on.
“I – I have to go, Draco,” she said quickly. “I’ll come back tomorrow, if that’s okay?”
He nodded. “I’ll see you then.”
*****
When Ginny and Harry had first got married, they had not always got along well. Like any young couple who had married far too young, they fought regularly about everything. Ginny despised the fact that he had chosen to be an Auror, hated how dangerous it was and was infuriated by the ridiculous hours he was forced to work. Harry hated that she had chosen to be a professional Quidditch player. On the rare occasion that he was home, she was often away or too tired to spend any quality time with him. For the first few years of marriage, in fact, they did little other than fight and then make up. Repeat until insane.
But the young redheaded witch had always known where to seek refuge. The Burrow was always her home, even if she didn’t technically lay her head there. Ginny knew that her mum would always be ready to listen to her problems and hold her while she cried, even if Ginny wasn’t a little girl anymore.
But when the tragedy struck, Ginny stopped visiting her mum as often. She stopped visiting anyone, in fact, and resolved herself to only speak to her family when they had come to Grimmauld Place. The visits from her mum and dad and brothers began happening less and less frequently, as the once fiery witch had become painfully depressing to be around.
Needless to say, it was quite a shock for Molly Weasley to see a much brighter looking Ginny Potter standing in her kitchen. In less than a second, the older witch had pulled her grown-up daughter into a tight embrace. The plump witch was now into her sixties, but the bone-crushing hugs that she was notorious for had not faltered in the slightest.
“Oh, my Ginny!” Molly cried, pulling away slightly from her daughter. “How are you feeling, dear? Is everything alright? Would you like some tea? Are you hungry?”
Ginny smiled half-heartedly as she placed a quieting finger against her mother’s lips. “I’m okay, Mum.”
Molly gave her a bit of a scornful look. “Well, excuse me for wanting to take care of you, Ginny. Have you forgotten that you’ve not been around here in months? A mother can’t help but wonder if you’ve got a reason to –“
“If you want me to go, I will.”
“Don’t be daft, Ginny!” Molly softly touched the back of her hand against Ginny’s cheek. “Why are you here, dear? I know you well enough to know that you’ve got a reason.”
The younger witch sat down at the kitchen table, taking in her surroundings carefully. The Burrow had barely changed in the thirty years she had been alive, and she loved that. It would always be her safe haven, even if she hadn’t been there for months. The tiny, humble home that belonged to the Weasleys was a constant reminder that Ginny would never truly be alone.
“Mum,” Ginny said, breaking the momentary silence that had settled between them. “I wanted to know if there’s something wrong with me.” She bit her lip nervously. “Should I have got over Harry by now?”
“Oh, darling, there are no rules of mourning,” Molly said gently. “Each person takes their own time to heal in their own way, and no one thinks there is anything wrong with you. You’re holding on to someone you loved because you don’t want to forget him. You know how hard it was for all of us to deal with Fred’s death.”
Ginny nodded. “I know that. But, what if I can’t ever forget?”
Molly smiled sadly. “No one said you should forget Harry, dear. You just make a special in your heart for him, and eventually it won’t hurt as much. You never forgot Fred, did you?”
“But what if ten more years go by and I still can’t look at his picture?” Ginny began to cry, sobbing softly against a napkin. “What if I can’t ever look at his picture without crying ever again?”
“Then your family has failed you, Ginny. It’s our job to help you through it.”
It made more sense to the younger witch in that moment, realizing how much Draco really did need her. Without someone to help him, he really never would move on. She knew what to do.
After apologizing to her mum and assuring her that she’d be back to visit soon, Ginny left the Burrow to return to Malfoy Manor. Even though she had said she’d stop by the following afternoon, she felt it imperative that she not wait. Draco was so miserable that she didn’t want to prolong the healing. That’s not what a friend did, and Ginny was determined to be a friend.
She knocked on the brass handle repeatedly until she heard someone moving inside. The door opened a moment later, revealing a very annoyed Draco, and Ginny wasted no time for greetings. “I think we should be friends,” she said, out of breath from running. “I –I want to be your friend, Draco.”
Draco scowled at her. “What are you going on about?”
Ginny gingerly put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll never heal if you don’t have help,” she said after she had calmed. “If you’ve got no one, Draco, you will always be miserable, and you won’t ever be able to move on with your life.”
“Weasley, I’m not really in the mood for this.” He tried to slam the door in her face, but Ginny stopped it with her hand, much in the way that she had earlier. “You don’t ever give up, do you?”
“No, I don’t.” She stepped closer to Draco. “I don’t understand you. I don’t understand what it is that you’re so afraid of, why you don’t want to talk to me.” Ginny took yet another step, inching herself dangerously close to him. “I bet you don’t even remember what she looks like, do you? Astoria? I bet you don’t even remember what colour her hair is, or her eyes. You probably can’t even remember the way she smelled or even what she was like.” She took another step, and she was now almost flush against the blond man. “Don’t you want to be able to think about her without feeling like you’re going to die? Don’t you want to make a place for her in your heart where you know you can always visit her, but not fall apart when you do? Don’t you?”
With lightning-fast speed, Draco reached out and gripped her upper arms, squeezing so tight that she winced in pain. “How can you help me when you can’t even talk about him?”
“I need you, too. We can heal together.”
“It can’t work like that, Ginny.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I can’t help you.”
“You could if you tried, Draco.”
“No, I can’t, because I don’t bloody know how to be someone’s friend.” He shook her violently, only to push her away at his final word. “Now get out of here!”
“I won’t leave you alone, not like this. You’ve been alone since you were how old? Twenty-one? People need people, even soulless bastards like you!”
“So, what? You expect me to come live with you? We can be best friends and fix each other’s hair and spend every minute together? I don’t think so, Weasley. I could never like you that much and I don’t even want to try.”
Ginny snorted. “I’d never want that, Malfoy. Let’s start small.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, amusedly lifting an eyebrow.
Ginny gave an impish grin. “Have you ever heard of mini-golf?”
Draco helped her to her feet and led her into his dining room. He only looked straight ahead of them – never at her – but Ginny could only stare. His jaw was set in a firm line, covered with a coarse layer of salt and pepper stubble, and he had shallow wrinkles around his eyes and forehead. Up close she was able to see how much Astoria’s death had aged his features, but somehow it made him that much more handsome. The lines of his face were softened and much less pointed, and his almost constant expression of grief was a breath of fresh air compared to the scowl that was always plastered on his face when he was a teenager.
He pulled out a chair for her at the kitchen table. “How do you take your tea?”
She smiled slightly, gracefully accepting the offered seat. “Two creams, three sugars, and a wedge of lemon, please,” she answered.
Draco entered the kitchen to prepare her tea, returning only a few moments later. When he returned, Ginny had not moved even an inch from where she had been. Her feet were up on the chair so that she could rest her chin on her knees, and her arms were protectively wrapped around her legs. She looked sad, confused, and small.
“Thanks,” she said, accepting the mug that Draco held out for her. “You know, you didn’t have to make this for me. I could’ve just gone home, you know.”
“I’m not letting you leave in the state you’re in,” he said, sitting across from her and folding his arms over his chest. He paused for a moment, eyeing her critically as she sipped her tea. “So, are you going to talk about it?”
“About Harry?” she asked. “No.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“Because I apparently wrote myself a note in thirty years, and –”
“Yes, I got that,” he snapped, cutting her off before she had the opportunity to retell the story. He paused again. She was tense and shivering from the chill in the air. “So, why do you think that you wrote it, then? What do you think you’re supposed to be doing?”
She locked eyes with him for the first time that day. Her warm brown eyes searched his icey grey orbs for a hint of malice – an indication that he was making fun of her. She found nothing but the grief that she had sensed from the moment they had begun speaking. “I’m supposed to help you.”
“I don’t need your help, Weasley.”
Ginny nibbled on her bottom lip, cocking her head to the side. “You’ve changed a lot, Draco,” she said.
“Well, of course I’ve changed. I haven’t seen you since I was seventeen.”
“Yeah, I know that,” Ginny agreed with a nod. “We may not have been friends when we were at school, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t notice you. When I say that you’re different, I don’t just mean you’ve grown up. I mean you aren’t even the same person. You’re a shell of yourself, and I think I can help you. I think that’s what I’m supposed to do.”
Draco nodded, pondering what Ginny had said. “How do you know it isn’t the other way around?” he asked.
“Because your future self didn’t tell you to help me, that’s why.”
“That’s because my future self isn’t annoying.”
“This is pointless,” Ginny said with a roll of her eyes. She stood up, taking one last gulp of tea. “Obviously, this whole thing was just a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here, and I’m very sorry that I bothered you. You’re obviously beyond help – beyond all hope and reconciliation. I’ve wasted your precious time as well as mine, so I’ll just go.”
Draco stood also. “No, wait.” He walked to her side of the table. “I’m not trying to push you away. I haven’t spoken to anyone in a long time, and it’s actually kind of nice to have someone to talk to.” It appeared almost painful for him to make such a confession.
In those mere seconds, Ginny realised how wrong she had been about something. He was grief-stricken and miserable, causing himself to age far beyond his time, but he wasn’t beyond hope. Draco Malfoy didn’t know how to get himself out of the trap he was in and fix his life. Even though he wanted to, he had no idea how to get better and move on.
“I – I have to go, Draco,” she said quickly. “I’ll come back tomorrow, if that’s okay?”
He nodded. “I’ll see you then.”
When Ginny and Harry had first got married, they had not always got along well. Like any young couple who had married far too young, they fought regularly about everything. Ginny despised the fact that he had chosen to be an Auror, hated how dangerous it was and was infuriated by the ridiculous hours he was forced to work. Harry hated that she had chosen to be a professional Quidditch player. On the rare occasion that he was home, she was often away or too tired to spend any quality time with him. For the first few years of marriage, in fact, they did little other than fight and then make up. Repeat until insane.
But the young redheaded witch had always known where to seek refuge. The Burrow was always her home, even if she didn’t technically lay her head there. Ginny knew that her mum would always be ready to listen to her problems and hold her while she cried, even if Ginny wasn’t a little girl anymore.
But when the tragedy struck, Ginny stopped visiting her mum as often. She stopped visiting anyone, in fact, and resolved herself to only speak to her family when they had come to Grimmauld Place. The visits from her mum and dad and brothers began happening less and less frequently, as the once fiery witch had become painfully depressing to be around.
Needless to say, it was quite a shock for Molly Weasley to see a much brighter looking Ginny Potter standing in her kitchen. In less than a second, the older witch had pulled her grown-up daughter into a tight embrace. The plump witch was now into her sixties, but the bone-crushing hugs that she was notorious for had not faltered in the slightest.
“Oh, my Ginny!” Molly cried, pulling away slightly from her daughter. “How are you feeling, dear? Is everything alright? Would you like some tea? Are you hungry?”
Ginny smiled half-heartedly as she placed a quieting finger against her mother’s lips. “I’m okay, Mum.”
Molly gave her a bit of a scornful look. “Well, excuse me for wanting to take care of you, Ginny. Have you forgotten that you’ve not been around here in months? A mother can’t help but wonder if you’ve got a reason to –“
“If you want me to go, I will.”
“Don’t be daft, Ginny!” Molly softly touched the back of her hand against Ginny’s cheek. “Why are you here, dear? I know you well enough to know that you’ve got a reason.”
The younger witch sat down at the kitchen table, taking in her surroundings carefully. The Burrow had barely changed in the thirty years she had been alive, and she loved that. It would always be her safe haven, even if she hadn’t been there for months. The tiny, humble home that belonged to the Weasleys was a constant reminder that Ginny would never truly be alone.
“Mum,” Ginny said, breaking the momentary silence that had settled between them. “I wanted to know if there’s something wrong with me.” She bit her lip nervously. “Should I have got over Harry by now?”
“Oh, darling, there are no rules of mourning,” Molly said gently. “Each person takes their own time to heal in their own way, and no one thinks there is anything wrong with you. You’re holding on to someone you loved because you don’t want to forget him. You know how hard it was for all of us to deal with Fred’s death.”
Ginny nodded. “I know that. But, what if I can’t ever forget?”
Molly smiled sadly. “No one said you should forget Harry, dear. You just make a special in your heart for him, and eventually it won’t hurt as much. You never forgot Fred, did you?”
“But what if ten more years go by and I still can’t look at his picture?” Ginny began to cry, sobbing softly against a napkin. “What if I can’t ever look at his picture without crying ever again?”
“Then your family has failed you, Ginny. It’s our job to help you through it.”
It made more sense to the younger witch in that moment, realizing how much Draco really did need her. Without someone to help him, he really never would move on. She knew what to do.
After apologizing to her mum and assuring her that she’d be back to visit soon, Ginny left the Burrow to return to Malfoy Manor. Even though she had said she’d stop by the following afternoon, she felt it imperative that she not wait. Draco was so miserable that she didn’t want to prolong the healing. That’s not what a friend did, and Ginny was determined to be a friend.
She knocked on the brass handle repeatedly until she heard someone moving inside. The door opened a moment later, revealing a very annoyed Draco, and Ginny wasted no time for greetings. “I think we should be friends,” she said, out of breath from running. “I –I want to be your friend, Draco.”
Draco scowled at her. “What are you going on about?”
Ginny gingerly put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll never heal if you don’t have help,” she said after she had calmed. “If you’ve got no one, Draco, you will always be miserable, and you won’t ever be able to move on with your life.”
“Weasley, I’m not really in the mood for this.” He tried to slam the door in her face, but Ginny stopped it with her hand, much in the way that she had earlier. “You don’t ever give up, do you?”
“No, I don’t.” She stepped closer to Draco. “I don’t understand you. I don’t understand what it is that you’re so afraid of, why you don’t want to talk to me.” Ginny took yet another step, inching herself dangerously close to him. “I bet you don’t even remember what she looks like, do you? Astoria? I bet you don’t even remember what colour her hair is, or her eyes. You probably can’t even remember the way she smelled or even what she was like.” She took another step, and she was now almost flush against the blond man. “Don’t you want to be able to think about her without feeling like you’re going to die? Don’t you want to make a place for her in your heart where you know you can always visit her, but not fall apart when you do? Don’t you?”
With lightning-fast speed, Draco reached out and gripped her upper arms, squeezing so tight that she winced in pain. “How can you help me when you can’t even talk about him?”
“I need you, too. We can heal together.”
“It can’t work like that, Ginny.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I can’t help you.”
“You could if you tried, Draco.”
“No, I can’t, because I don’t bloody know how to be someone’s friend.” He shook her violently, only to push her away at his final word. “Now get out of here!”
“I won’t leave you alone, not like this. You’ve been alone since you were how old? Twenty-one? People need people, even soulless bastards like you!”
“So, what? You expect me to come live with you? We can be best friends and fix each other’s hair and spend every minute together? I don’t think so, Weasley. I could never like you that much and I don’t even want to try.”
Ginny snorted. “I’d never want that, Malfoy. Let’s start small.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, amusedly lifting an eyebrow.
Ginny gave an impish grin. “Have you ever heard of mini-golf?”
Leave a Review