Please by BelleAmour
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He was icy cold despite the sun shining through his window. Ironic how it would chose this morning to shine after hiding away for weeks. This morning, just like the last seven, Draco wished he had not woken. He wished he had simply drifted on, leaving his mortal body behind.
He kicked his sheets and duvet to the floor with thrashing motions, finally standing up. It was hard to place his emotions; he was back and forth between depression and rage. Roughly pushing his pants down, Draco made his way to the shower, turning it on as hot as it would go. He stood beneath it for what felt like hours.
“Draco,” her voice echoed from the bedroom like it always had. There was something about the tone of her voice that carried easily throughout the enormous house.
Refusing to answer, Draco began to wash his hair. His arms were limp and unable to do everything that was required of them. He simply stood under the water, allowing it to clean the soap from his knotted locks.
“Draco.”
“No,” he whispered to himself, still ignoring the voice. It was pulling him out of his haze but he knew if he acknowledged it he would just be lost in another daydream.
“Draco,” the female voice came again, but this time it was closer. She was standing in the doorway looking at him. “Are you almost finished? You’ll be late.”
He looked to her, his red-rimmed eyes studying her appearance. “I don’t care if I’m late,” he said, telling himself he was merely thinking aloud, not responding to her.
She sighed and perched on the counter, her legs dangling off the edge. Her hair was the beautiful mess it always was when she first woke up. “I hope you’re doing better today,” she told him.
“I wish I was dead,” he answered after turning the water off and exiting the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and returned to the bedroom, passing her without a second glance.
She followed him and watched him collapse onto the bed. “Please don’t say things like that,” she begged, tears filling her big brown eyes. “Please.”
Draco sat up and pushed his wet hair from his eyes, finally really looking at the redhead who seemed so concerned with him. Her wavy hair was glowing from the sunlight and she was wearing a yellow sundress that hung on her small frame loosely. “What should I feel if not dead?” he muttered, busying himself with drying his hair so he could look away from her.
There was a light knock on his door but it remained closed. “Mate,” Blaise’s quiet voice called through the thick wood. “Are you up?”
“Yes,” Draco replied flatly.
“Okay, just making sure,” he responded, still on the other side of the door. “I’m going to grab some coffee and then we can go.”
Draco bit his lip hard and covered his face, willing his emotions to remain in check. He remained silent, not wanting his friend to hear his voice falter.
“Draco?” Blaise asked, turning the doorknob.
“I’m fine, that sounds fine,” he answered quickly, not wanting his friend to enter and comfort him. Draco looked at the door until he heard Blaise’s footsteps carrying him away from the bedroom.
Draco stood and opened his closet, staring longingly at the female clothing on the left side. He pulled out a shirt, jacket, and trousers before leaving the small space. Seeing her clothing only made him more reluctant to leave the bedroom.
“You should talk to Blaise,” the redhead suggested, sitting in the middle of the bed and smiling up at Draco. “Maybe he could help you feel better.”
“Feel better?” he asked, looking her in the eye while talking. “I don’t want to leave, I can’t go!” he shouted throwing the clothing he picked out onto the bed beside her. “I want to stay here, I never want to leave this stupid obnoxiously ornate room!” he roared. His anger subsided when he looked at her face again. Her expression was soft; she was clearly worried about her husband. “I just…” he began, sitting in front of her on the bed. “I don’t want to leave you.”
She reached out and traced her fingers along his jaw, her touch so light it was as if it wasn’t really there at all. “You’re a strong man,” she smiled.
“No one should have to stay in this house alone. It would engulf anyone… just swallow them alive,” he mumbled to himself.
“Get dressed,” she encouraged sweetly.
Draco stood and began to dress. He stared at himself in the mirror as he buttoned up his black shirt, the redhead watching him from the bed. It was the first time he had worn an all black suit since Hogwarts. When finally pulling his belt tight around his waist, he couldn’t fail to notice that he was using a notch smaller than he ever had before.
“All black,” the girl chastised him with a giggle.
They looked out of place together, Draco thought, but they always had. “Please don’t make me go,” he begged her, stepping forward to embrace her, but she stepped back.
“You know you have to go,” she answered, lifting the hem of her sundress and spinning it around, dancing in the light. “I love you,” she told him, stopping her dancing.
“I love you,” he whispered back, walking towards her once more.
“Draco,” Blaise called, knocking again. “You ready?” This time the man opened the door and entered. His smile was weak and dark circles surrounded his eyes, too. “Come on, mate,” he sighed, his hand out stretched for Draco’s.
Draco accepted and let Blaise lead him out of the room. He wanted to protest, he wanted to open his mouth and yell and cry, but he couldn’t. His legs carried him along with Blaise and he remained silent.
“Everyone’s almost here,” Blaise told him, wanting to break the silence that had been suffocating the two men. “I’m glad it’s sunny. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it this morning but I’ve decided it is good. Sunny and warm and…” he trailed off as they approached the back door to the Malfoy gardens.
Draco could see everyone gathering around the blooming flowers and finding open seats. The garden was filled with small white chairs, many already claimed and only a few remaining open. “Please,” he breathed again, not sure what he was begging for but he knew he didn’t want to enter the garden.
“Come on,” Blaise said for the second time that morning. “I’ll be next to you in the front.”
Draco had never heard a more deafening sound than that of the door closing behind him. Everyone turned to look and watch him with interest in their eyes. Blaise walked him down the aisle to the front row of seats, directly in front of a huge portrait. While the whole right side of the front row was empty, Draco still felt like he could not breathe with the others near him. He looked to the other side of the aisle, each of the front seats taken. It was a line of orange hair.
Draco finally looked up at the portrait. The girl in it was staring at the ground, not letting anyone see her face. Finally she looked up and made eye contact with Draco, smiling sadly. The same smile she gave him up in his room only minutes before.
“It’s the first time she’s looked up,” Blaise told him, leaning close to whisper. “Not even when her family arrived.”
Everyone became quiet as Kingsley stood in the front, his arms open to welcome everyone. “Today we have come to celebrate the life of Ginevra Malfoy,” the minister began.
Draco couldn’t help but notice the sob that escaped Molly Weasley’s mouth. He bowed his head, his lips quivering and his nose beginning to run. Fighting tears only lasted so long, he knew that.
“She was a loving daughter, an adoring wife, and a dedicated Auror. Saving hundreds of lives in her five years with the ministry, Ginevra was the most trusted and devoted employee the Auror department has ever seen. Daily she proved to the Wizarding World that there was life after the war.”
Draco choked on his breath and found he could no longer hold back his emotions, bringing up his hand to wipe away the rapidly falling tears. His other hand gripped his thigh uncomfortably tight, attempting to stop crying before he looked like the Weasleys.
Blaise wrapped his arm around Draco, leaning into his friend. He rubbed small circles on his back in an effort to ease the pain, but it did nothing.
Draco looked up and suddenly went deaf. All he could hear was blood rushing in his ears. His eyes were locked with those of the picture. She tilted her head to the side, watching him. She frowned as more tears fell from his eyes.
He remained engaged with the portrait for the rest of the ceremony, ignoring Kingsley’s speech of how Ginny was a valued member of society. As far as Draco was concerned, it was all Kingsley’s fault. He assigned her to the mission that required her to infiltrate the Death Eater hide out in Austria. Ginny lied while she packed, she told Draco it wasn’t anything serious. He should have stopped her. He should have stopped her. He should have stopped her.
“Draco,” said a small voice that brought the blond out of his internal argument with himself.
He looked up to see Arthur Weasley, who stared at the grass beneath his worn work shoes. The older man looked just as bad as Draco did. “Mr. Weasley,” Draco greeted, standing to shake his hand. Draco noticed Blaise had disappeared and many people were leaving slowly.
“Please, call me Arthur,” he insisted. He remained silent for a moment before stepping forward and engulfing Draco in a hug he hadn’t known he needed. “I’m so sorry,” Arthur choked, sniffing and weeping into Draco’s shoulder. “We spent so much time ignoring you. We didn’t trust… I’m so sorry,” Arthur cried and Draco had a feeling Arthur was saying what he wished he could say to his daughter.
Draco wrapped his arms back around the man and sighed. “I’m sorry, Arthur.” The two held each other for a long time before one of the other Weasleys interrupted.
“Da,” said a tall man while a mop of orange hair.
“Ah, Charlie,” Arthur smiled, stepping away from Draco.
“Mum wants to go to the… grave,” the boy said, his voice cracking around the last word.
Arthur nodded solemnly, turning away from his son. “Will you come with us? We are worried about not having any time to grieve alone. It’s only expected that the site will be filled with press soon enough.”
“I actually had Blaise put a hold on the area until a week from today,” Draco informed the men. “No one but people on the list can get anywhere near her.”
“Who’s on the list?” Charlie asked, shifting uncomfortably. His lips were dry and his hair brushed back from his face.
“Her immediate family,” Draco said, motioning to the lot of Weasleys comforting their mother just a few meters away. “Erm, Blaise, Hermione, Pot-Harry, Luna, and Neville.”
Arthur smiled at the blond, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you,” he smiled. “Go tell Molly I’ll be along in a moment,” he told Charlie. He paused until his son began speaking to his wife. “Please come with us. We’re having a dinner tonight at the Burrow as a family.”
“Of course, thank you,” Draco nodded.
The group Apparated together to the site and individually paid their respects, placing many flowers atop the grave. An angel guarded the stone denoting her name. It was an exact replica of the one protecting Draco’s mother’s grave. Ginny had always admired the way it seemed to comfort Draco. A few times while visiting Narcissa’s grave, Ginny would whisper to the angel and thank her for her love and her ability to ease Draco’s pain.
Slowly, one by one, Ginny’s brother’s Disapparated, finally leaving only Draco and her parents. Molly was reluctant to leave her spot, weeping on her knees for her little girl. “She wasn’t supposed to be gone. She survived it all,” the woman cried, her head bowed. Her husband helped her to her feet. Arthur nodded to Draco, confirming dinner plans, before leaving just like the others.
Rubbing his eyes, Draco stared at the stones in front of him. “You shouldn’t have gone,” he told the grey slab matter-of-factly. Slowly he eased himself to the wet ground. “You didn’t tell me where you were going,” he said, his voice still strong. Laying his head against the grass, he sighed, his breath shaky. “You’ve left me here and… I’m alone.” His tears began once again, but this time he was ready for them, allowing them to fall without a fight. “Please,” he begged once more, curling up in his suit, flowers surrounding him. “Please come home.”
He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing.
“Please.”
He kicked his sheets and duvet to the floor with thrashing motions, finally standing up. It was hard to place his emotions; he was back and forth between depression and rage. Roughly pushing his pants down, Draco made his way to the shower, turning it on as hot as it would go. He stood beneath it for what felt like hours.
“Draco,” her voice echoed from the bedroom like it always had. There was something about the tone of her voice that carried easily throughout the enormous house.
Refusing to answer, Draco began to wash his hair. His arms were limp and unable to do everything that was required of them. He simply stood under the water, allowing it to clean the soap from his knotted locks.
“Draco.”
“No,” he whispered to himself, still ignoring the voice. It was pulling him out of his haze but he knew if he acknowledged it he would just be lost in another daydream.
“Draco,” the female voice came again, but this time it was closer. She was standing in the doorway looking at him. “Are you almost finished? You’ll be late.”
He looked to her, his red-rimmed eyes studying her appearance. “I don’t care if I’m late,” he said, telling himself he was merely thinking aloud, not responding to her.
She sighed and perched on the counter, her legs dangling off the edge. Her hair was the beautiful mess it always was when she first woke up. “I hope you’re doing better today,” she told him.
“I wish I was dead,” he answered after turning the water off and exiting the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and returned to the bedroom, passing her without a second glance.
She followed him and watched him collapse onto the bed. “Please don’t say things like that,” she begged, tears filling her big brown eyes. “Please.”
Draco sat up and pushed his wet hair from his eyes, finally really looking at the redhead who seemed so concerned with him. Her wavy hair was glowing from the sunlight and she was wearing a yellow sundress that hung on her small frame loosely. “What should I feel if not dead?” he muttered, busying himself with drying his hair so he could look away from her.
There was a light knock on his door but it remained closed. “Mate,” Blaise’s quiet voice called through the thick wood. “Are you up?”
“Yes,” Draco replied flatly.
“Okay, just making sure,” he responded, still on the other side of the door. “I’m going to grab some coffee and then we can go.”
Draco bit his lip hard and covered his face, willing his emotions to remain in check. He remained silent, not wanting his friend to hear his voice falter.
“Draco?” Blaise asked, turning the doorknob.
“I’m fine, that sounds fine,” he answered quickly, not wanting his friend to enter and comfort him. Draco looked at the door until he heard Blaise’s footsteps carrying him away from the bedroom.
Draco stood and opened his closet, staring longingly at the female clothing on the left side. He pulled out a shirt, jacket, and trousers before leaving the small space. Seeing her clothing only made him more reluctant to leave the bedroom.
“You should talk to Blaise,” the redhead suggested, sitting in the middle of the bed and smiling up at Draco. “Maybe he could help you feel better.”
“Feel better?” he asked, looking her in the eye while talking. “I don’t want to leave, I can’t go!” he shouted throwing the clothing he picked out onto the bed beside her. “I want to stay here, I never want to leave this stupid obnoxiously ornate room!” he roared. His anger subsided when he looked at her face again. Her expression was soft; she was clearly worried about her husband. “I just…” he began, sitting in front of her on the bed. “I don’t want to leave you.”
She reached out and traced her fingers along his jaw, her touch so light it was as if it wasn’t really there at all. “You’re a strong man,” she smiled.
“No one should have to stay in this house alone. It would engulf anyone… just swallow them alive,” he mumbled to himself.
“Get dressed,” she encouraged sweetly.
Draco stood and began to dress. He stared at himself in the mirror as he buttoned up his black shirt, the redhead watching him from the bed. It was the first time he had worn an all black suit since Hogwarts. When finally pulling his belt tight around his waist, he couldn’t fail to notice that he was using a notch smaller than he ever had before.
“All black,” the girl chastised him with a giggle.
They looked out of place together, Draco thought, but they always had. “Please don’t make me go,” he begged her, stepping forward to embrace her, but she stepped back.
“You know you have to go,” she answered, lifting the hem of her sundress and spinning it around, dancing in the light. “I love you,” she told him, stopping her dancing.
“I love you,” he whispered back, walking towards her once more.
“Draco,” Blaise called, knocking again. “You ready?” This time the man opened the door and entered. His smile was weak and dark circles surrounded his eyes, too. “Come on, mate,” he sighed, his hand out stretched for Draco’s.
Draco accepted and let Blaise lead him out of the room. He wanted to protest, he wanted to open his mouth and yell and cry, but he couldn’t. His legs carried him along with Blaise and he remained silent.
“Everyone’s almost here,” Blaise told him, wanting to break the silence that had been suffocating the two men. “I’m glad it’s sunny. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it this morning but I’ve decided it is good. Sunny and warm and…” he trailed off as they approached the back door to the Malfoy gardens.
Draco could see everyone gathering around the blooming flowers and finding open seats. The garden was filled with small white chairs, many already claimed and only a few remaining open. “Please,” he breathed again, not sure what he was begging for but he knew he didn’t want to enter the garden.
“Come on,” Blaise said for the second time that morning. “I’ll be next to you in the front.”
Draco had never heard a more deafening sound than that of the door closing behind him. Everyone turned to look and watch him with interest in their eyes. Blaise walked him down the aisle to the front row of seats, directly in front of a huge portrait. While the whole right side of the front row was empty, Draco still felt like he could not breathe with the others near him. He looked to the other side of the aisle, each of the front seats taken. It was a line of orange hair.
Draco finally looked up at the portrait. The girl in it was staring at the ground, not letting anyone see her face. Finally she looked up and made eye contact with Draco, smiling sadly. The same smile she gave him up in his room only minutes before.
“It’s the first time she’s looked up,” Blaise told him, leaning close to whisper. “Not even when her family arrived.”
Everyone became quiet as Kingsley stood in the front, his arms open to welcome everyone. “Today we have come to celebrate the life of Ginevra Malfoy,” the minister began.
Draco couldn’t help but notice the sob that escaped Molly Weasley’s mouth. He bowed his head, his lips quivering and his nose beginning to run. Fighting tears only lasted so long, he knew that.
“She was a loving daughter, an adoring wife, and a dedicated Auror. Saving hundreds of lives in her five years with the ministry, Ginevra was the most trusted and devoted employee the Auror department has ever seen. Daily she proved to the Wizarding World that there was life after the war.”
Draco choked on his breath and found he could no longer hold back his emotions, bringing up his hand to wipe away the rapidly falling tears. His other hand gripped his thigh uncomfortably tight, attempting to stop crying before he looked like the Weasleys.
Blaise wrapped his arm around Draco, leaning into his friend. He rubbed small circles on his back in an effort to ease the pain, but it did nothing.
Draco looked up and suddenly went deaf. All he could hear was blood rushing in his ears. His eyes were locked with those of the picture. She tilted her head to the side, watching him. She frowned as more tears fell from his eyes.
He remained engaged with the portrait for the rest of the ceremony, ignoring Kingsley’s speech of how Ginny was a valued member of society. As far as Draco was concerned, it was all Kingsley’s fault. He assigned her to the mission that required her to infiltrate the Death Eater hide out in Austria. Ginny lied while she packed, she told Draco it wasn’t anything serious. He should have stopped her. He should have stopped her. He should have stopped her.
“Draco,” said a small voice that brought the blond out of his internal argument with himself.
He looked up to see Arthur Weasley, who stared at the grass beneath his worn work shoes. The older man looked just as bad as Draco did. “Mr. Weasley,” Draco greeted, standing to shake his hand. Draco noticed Blaise had disappeared and many people were leaving slowly.
“Please, call me Arthur,” he insisted. He remained silent for a moment before stepping forward and engulfing Draco in a hug he hadn’t known he needed. “I’m so sorry,” Arthur choked, sniffing and weeping into Draco’s shoulder. “We spent so much time ignoring you. We didn’t trust… I’m so sorry,” Arthur cried and Draco had a feeling Arthur was saying what he wished he could say to his daughter.
Draco wrapped his arms back around the man and sighed. “I’m sorry, Arthur.” The two held each other for a long time before one of the other Weasleys interrupted.
“Da,” said a tall man while a mop of orange hair.
“Ah, Charlie,” Arthur smiled, stepping away from Draco.
“Mum wants to go to the… grave,” the boy said, his voice cracking around the last word.
Arthur nodded solemnly, turning away from his son. “Will you come with us? We are worried about not having any time to grieve alone. It’s only expected that the site will be filled with press soon enough.”
“I actually had Blaise put a hold on the area until a week from today,” Draco informed the men. “No one but people on the list can get anywhere near her.”
“Who’s on the list?” Charlie asked, shifting uncomfortably. His lips were dry and his hair brushed back from his face.
“Her immediate family,” Draco said, motioning to the lot of Weasleys comforting their mother just a few meters away. “Erm, Blaise, Hermione, Pot-Harry, Luna, and Neville.”
Arthur smiled at the blond, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you,” he smiled. “Go tell Molly I’ll be along in a moment,” he told Charlie. He paused until his son began speaking to his wife. “Please come with us. We’re having a dinner tonight at the Burrow as a family.”
“Of course, thank you,” Draco nodded.
The group Apparated together to the site and individually paid their respects, placing many flowers atop the grave. An angel guarded the stone denoting her name. It was an exact replica of the one protecting Draco’s mother’s grave. Ginny had always admired the way it seemed to comfort Draco. A few times while visiting Narcissa’s grave, Ginny would whisper to the angel and thank her for her love and her ability to ease Draco’s pain.
Slowly, one by one, Ginny’s brother’s Disapparated, finally leaving only Draco and her parents. Molly was reluctant to leave her spot, weeping on her knees for her little girl. “She wasn’t supposed to be gone. She survived it all,” the woman cried, her head bowed. Her husband helped her to her feet. Arthur nodded to Draco, confirming dinner plans, before leaving just like the others.
Rubbing his eyes, Draco stared at the stones in front of him. “You shouldn’t have gone,” he told the grey slab matter-of-factly. Slowly he eased himself to the wet ground. “You didn’t tell me where you were going,” he said, his voice still strong. Laying his head against the grass, he sighed, his breath shaky. “You’ve left me here and… I’m alone.” His tears began once again, but this time he was ready for them, allowing them to fall without a fight. “Please,” he begged once more, curling up in his suit, flowers surrounding him. “Please come home.”
He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing.
“Please.”
To Be Continued.
BelleAmour is the author of 5 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 3 members. Members who liked Please also liked 266 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 3 members. Members who liked Please also liked 266 other stories.
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