Chapter 24
"Why did you bring me here?" Ginny asked, her eyes wandering over the sparsely furnished room. Only half finished graded papers lying on a desk gave any clue as to who the previous occupant had been. She stepped into Draco Malfoy's former quarters, Harry and Hermione following.
There were no fancy trappings here. No silk bed sheets, paintings or antique furnishings. It was a sensible room. A bed stood in the corner with a small lamp situated on the end table at its head. A trunk lay at the end with a desk and bookcase directly across by the entryway. Tracing a finger over titles of books arranged alphabetically in Draco's bookcase, Ginny gave a little laugh. Their son did this very same thing.
"These are some of the items the Ministry left behind," Hermione continued, "Items they thought were of no importance."
Ginny spotted it first. The only hint of color in the room. She sat on his bed, picking up the framed photograph on the end table that her eyes had missed. She held it carefully in her hands as if it might break. Happy faces of her, Draco and Alex stared back from that fateful day in Madame Puddifoot's Tea Shoppe. Did you sleep knowing we watched over you, Draco? Draco and Alex were so much alike, their smiles identical, a smudge of chocolate on not only the elder Malfoy's mouth, but the young one as well. "I'll leave this for you," she said softly to Malfoy although he was miles away. She placed the picture back on the end table facing the bed, noticing an unopened drawer that tempted Ginny to peek inside.
A picture of a sleeping baby yawned up at Ginny - his tiny fingers seemed to reach for her. "Alex," she whispered, turning the picture over in her hands. "He kept this. Draco kept a picture of my -" she stammered, "of our baby."
"And he kept so much more." Hermione's voice jolted Ginny back into the present. "Come, take a look." With a wave of Hermione's hand, the trunk at the foot of the bed slowly opened.
"What is it?" she asked, removing herself from Draco's bed. She knelt hesitantly before the now unopened trunk. The first thing she picked up was a box labeled, Happy Birthday Alex on your 1st birthday. Inside, a plush toy dragon had awaited a boy who would never receive it. Year 5 was a Lil Wizards Potions Play Set. Turn your family green! it advertised. Turn your vegetables into chocolate! For Use only Under Adult Supervision.
Every single birthday and Christmas was accounted for. There were even presents for Ginny including perfumes, jewelry and a wide array of other gifts. A silk emerald green cloak she had seen in Hogsmeade had been meant for her. Ginny closed her eyes, bringing the soft material to her cheek and before she knew it, the tears were falling. Draco had bought these presents never knowing if he would be able to give them to Alex or to her.
The last unopened box was quite small. It wouldn't open as easily as the others. Ginny shook it wondering what was inside. Tapping her wand against it, the box slowly started to open, revealing a brilliant diamond ring. Never had Ginny seen anything so grand in her life.
Even Harry was taken aback, "He must have scrimped and saved for years to buy that!" A Dark Arts Professor's salary didn't afford many luxuries, even for a man who once had the Malfoy fortune.
A small inscription could be made out on the ring. Ginny removed the ring from its holder, fingering it in the now dying light. Her breath caught in her throat, her hands trembling as she read the engraving. Marry Me, Ginevra Weasley.
"Can I tell you something?" Ginny asked Hermione who was already beside her.
Her friend gave her a comforting squeeze, "Me and Harry are here for you."
Ginny paused only for a moment and then poured out her heart. "I believe Draco loved me, still loves me. I told Harry this, but now I want to tell you Hermione - I loved him. I don't want Draco to get the Kiss. My feelings are so mixed up. I don't want him to leave Alex and I don't want him to leave me."
Harry conjured a handkerchief and handed it to his wife. Hermione dabbed at her friend's tears. "Oh, Ginny
there is nothing mixed up about the way you feel, nothing at all."
"When I woke up in St Mungo's nothing was the way it was supposed to be. I wanted to die Hermione. I didn't want to see that boy. Do you remember?"
Hermione nodded her head silently allowing Ginny to continue. "Everything I expected from life was gone. Taken away. But I was given something even better. Someone. My Alex. What if it is the same for Draco?"
"Your mind may have forgotten the details, but your heart remembers. If you have feelings for Draco then go with them."
A small smile broke through Ginny's tears, "I kissed him yesterday, telling myself it was for Alex."
"Was it?" Hermione questioned, motioning Harry with a wave of her hand to leave them alone.
"I kissed him for me, Hermione." Ginny looked up at her friend suddenly knowing where she wanted to be. "I have to go to him."
Hermione smiled, "Then go, you must." She reached into her pocket handing Ginny an envelope, "Filch found this in the Great Hall. I don't think Malfoy ever had a chance to open it."
For Father - Happy Christmas, it read.
Ginny may have lost her past, but today and tomorrow was hers.
***
A Muggle? Pansy Parkinson was living as a Muggle? Ron scratched his head in confusion, looking from the address listed on the parchment paper as the last known residence of Pansy and back again to the two story red brick house with a car parked out front. He took in the basketball hoop as he followed a curved cement path to the front door and managed to avoid tripping over a stray skateboard left on the lawn.
Ron glanced at the house before knocking on the door. The porch was overflowing with clay pots holding various flowers, from the back he heard a dog barking. Was this how a former Death Eater lived? He refused to be angry. He didn't want to listen to the voice that insisted what Pansy had was undeserved. Luna should have had a house full of children, not Pansy. But, did he not have Padma and Anjali? He wouldn't give them up for anything in the world. What would he do without his little sweet Princess greeting him with her toothless grin every time he came home from Quidditch practice? Without the bad, would he have ever experienced the good?
Ron pushed those thoughts to the side when the door swung open. A young girl greeted him, dribbling a basketball, "Hi, there." The child looked to be around nine or ten with short black hair, just like her mother. It was disarming. Almost as if looking back in time. "How can I help you?" there was one difference of course. This child was friendly.
Muggle blood sure made Parkinsons an agreeable lot.
"I'm looking for Pansy." When the girl looked up at him in confusion he rephrased the question, "I'm looking for your mum."
The girl flashed a crooked smile. "You sure do talk funny." She giggled before yelling, "Mom! You have a visitor! Mom!"
"Who is it?" Pansy asked, all traces of her aristocratic British accent gone. She emerged from what looked to be the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She stopped abruptly, her eyes wide with shock. "Weasley?"
She looked from him to her daughter. "Rachel, I want you to go outside and take Bludger for a walk."
The girl looked warily at Ron, "Are you sure Mom?"
Pansy nodded, crossing the foyer. "He's an old friend of mine from school."
The girl, although not quite convinced, headed towards the barking dog, glancing at them before disappearing behind a door.
Ron couldn't help from hiding his amusement. How very unexpected these Slytherins turned out to be. "Pansy Parkinson - an American Muggle. Who would have guessed?"
"My husband and son will be home soon. He can't find you here, and it's Patricia Friedman. I no longer go by Pansy."
"He doesn't know that you're a witch?"
"No," Pansy said rather abruptly. "And I hope to keep it that way."
"What are you afraid of?" Ron said, inspecting the room with pictures of Pansy, her daughter, and who he assumed to be her husband and son. "You family looks like a happy one. Do you think he would leave you?"
"No, not at all. It might take a while to digest that there is a magical world, but my husband, Ari, would do so. It's my past I don't want him to find out about. I don't want him to find out about me."
"What exactly does he know about you, Parkinson?"
Pansy retreated into the back of the house, returning with a plate of cookies and a carafe of coffee. "Please sit, Weasley." She said pouring a cup of coffee for Ron.
"No tea?" Ron asked, only to be met with a glare from Pansy.
"Do you want to hear my story or not, Weasel?"
That's more like it, Ron thought. The old Pansy he knew was returning. "Cream and sugar please. But only one scoop of sugar, just like how my house elf makes it."
"Is that how Padma refers to herself these days?" Pansy flashed Ron a wicked smile before taking a seat opposite, watching his face grow red. "Don't get mad Weasley. You walked right into that one."
"Fair is fair, I suppose. Ok then Parkinson, Friedman or whatever you are calling yourself these days. Carry on with your story."
"Everyone knows, at least the Order knows, that I deserted. I couldn't have Voldemort find me. Although I hate to say this, I do thank you for finding me."
"What was I going to do, let you bleed to death after you hacked off your arm?" Ron placed his coffee down, taking a seat next to Pansy. "May I?"
Pansy nodded, allowing Ron to slowly roll up one of her sleeves revealing her prosthetic arm. "Voldemort can't find you anymore, Pansy. Our healers can regrow your arm."
"That vile mark will reappear and I can't have Ari knowing about it. I've gone the past twelve years without the use of my arm. I can go another twelve."
"Tell me about your husband."
A true smile appeared on Pansy's face. "I couldn't have been more happy nor more sad after the Ministry sent me to America, for my protection. What was I to do? Who was I to be? My first apartment was a few blocks from Loyola University. I would watch the students come and go from my window, their arms full of books, laughing and talking. Though I was an ocean away, seeing these students made me yearn for my Hogwarts days."
"I thought you hated Hogwarts." Ron said, his voice muffled by a mouth full of cookies.
A hint of annoyance flickered in her eyes. "This is my story Weasley. I shall tell it with no interruptions. Understood?" Pansy didn't wait for his agreement, but continued on. "I enrolled in school. The studies were the easiest part of it all. It was making friends that was difficult. I didn't have people like Draco, Greg and Vincent around me. At the time I didn't have my prosthetic arm and wasn't feeling very friendly myself."
"That's natural. You never were!" Ron exclaimed.
Pansy shot him a glare and Ron sheepishly reached for more cookies, trying to stuff himself quiet. "Ari Friedman was always outside the student center trying to sign people up for once cause or another. He asked me if I would sign a petition for peace in the Middle East. For a Muggle, he was such a Hufflepuff! I told him I was busy. Couldn't he see that I had an arm full of books and wouldn't be able to sign his stupid petition! What would signatures get anyway? Ha! Imagine if the wizarding world had presented Voldemort with such a thing! Crucio'd on the spot, that's what. Well, Ari wouldn't give up. He followed me to my next class, asking if I wouldn't mind donating an hour of my time for a date with him. Eleven years later, here I am."
"Hufflepuff? Sounds like a Gryffindor to me. Your husband's persistence paid off. By the way, interesting name your husband has. What does it mean?"
Pansy shivered. "Let's not talk about that right now. It's Hebrew. That's all I will tell you. To get back to my story - My husband is a doctor now. He belongs to an organization called Doctors Without Borders. It's a Muggle organization that gives care to people in conflict zones, no matter where they are or what their background is."
"And you Parkinson?"
"I'm also a doctor. Though due to my limited abilities with my arm, I am not a surgeon like my husband. My specialty is general internal medicine."
Amusement flickered in Ron's eyes. "Pansy Parkinson, helping those in need, despite their backgrounds. The sorting hat whispered Gryffindor, didn't it?"
"Actually it said I might be good in Ravenclaw. " Her mouth quirked in humor before her expression turned serious. "I do know why you are here. Out of the wizarding world as I am, I still get the Daily Prophet from time to time. I'm sorry to say that I cannot help you, Draco or his son."
"There has to be something, anything you saw or heard that can help us."
"There isn't much I know. I'm sorry," Pansy said heading towards the door.
Pansy motioned for Ron to exit. Slowly Ron headed towards the door, pausing before leaving. "The Prophet and Quibbler reporters are very close to finding out where you are. I assure you Parkinson that I won't let the Ministry divulge your whereabouts. All I need are a few statements." He reached into his pocket, tapping his wand against a small object in his hand. It enlarged to reveal a pensive.
"No, I can't. You don't understand Weasely. If Ari finds out the person I was it would devastate him. His grandmother's entire family was killed by another group of Muggles that didn't think the Friedmans and their kind were pure enough! How would Ari feel if he found out I once held the belief that no Muggles were pure enough? He doesn't even know I'm from England! He thinks I'm an orphan from Kansas for goodness sake! If my children are hurt because of this, I couldn't bear it! Besides, what I know about Draco and Ginny-"
At that moment, Pansy's daughter Rachel bounded into the room followed by a big black lab. "Hey mom! Look what I can do." Rachel tossed the bone into the air towards the barking lab. The bone stopped in midair, as if suspended, taunting the dog. "Look Mom, it's like magic!"
***
Twelve years, ten months, fifteen days. That's how long he had wallowed in this pit of suffering. He would dream of Ginny, their limbs entangled, living the six weeks they had been together each night only to wake up in a sheen of sweat with no one beside him. He would remember the first time she had come to him.
His mother was dead, killed by Dumbledore's Army.
In his grief, in that hazy place of suspended reality, Draco had been surprised to find Weasley coming to his bed, pressing her bare breasts against his back while he lay crying for his mother into his pillow. He accepted her embrace, turning towards her and demanding more. When she whispered words of comfort, he sought her mouth with his. He lost himself in her softness and the warmth of her nakedness, lust replacing sorrow.
His own driving need sought her out more than once that night.
When they were both sated, his grief dulled, a sleeping Ginny had nestled deeper against him. Her long red hair was fanned against the wrinkled pillowcase where her head rested, with her arm draped across him. He noticed the tears she had shed at the corners of her eyes. He kissed them away as she slept, wondering if it had all been out of pity. Even if it had been, he wanted to be with her again.
He had hated her.
Or at least he had.
"Draco." He stiffened at the sound of her voice. Was he still in his dream world? He didn't want to wake up to find himself alone. He could already feel her soft hand against his cheek, whispering his name. "Draco."
Nothing prepared him to see her kneeling beside him on his bed, only a few centimeters away. Even in the faint light of his cell he could make out the concern in her gentle brown eyes. "What are you doing here?" he asked sitting up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Ginny was about to answer him when a light chuckle echoed before them. Draco turned to find Goyle smiling from ear to ear. He winked at him from behind the bars, "Miss Weasley insisted she see you immediately. Wouldn't wait for me to bring you to the visitor's quarters. I couldn't say no to the Minster's daughter. I'll be doing my rounds. See you 'bout an hour or two Miss Weasley." He gave a nod whistling down the hallway.
As the whistling died down, she asked the question he wanted to tell her, but was yet afraid of. "Tell me about us. Tell me how it all began."
He leaned toward her, his silvery gaze intent. "My father, he gave you to me, Ginny. I'm afraid I didn't treat you in a decent way. What you may hear from others is true, but I never raped you. Never."
His hands went around her upper arms, tightening , as if he were afraid once she heard him out, she would try to get away. "Don't hate me, Ginny," Draco begged, his voice a tortured whisper.
She reached out to him, touching his lips with her fingertips, "I promise you Draco, I'll never hate you."
"My mother died and you came to me," he said swallowing hard, "you slept with me out of pity, Ginny. Not because you and I were in love." He brushed one hand over her hair, forcing himself to stay calm. "Perhaps it was all out of pity. Perhaps you didn't feel the same way at all. It doesn't change the fact that I fell for you." He couldn't bear to hear her response. She had already pulled away from him. Draco didn't know if she would tell him that she never wanted to see him again and kill the last bit of hope he had. "I love you Ginevra Molly Weasley. Somewhere behind all the shadows and worry you know that. That's why you've come."
Ginny studied him for a long time, her brown eyes darker now with hidden secrets she couldn't explain. "I don't remember the past, Draco and I am worried about what the future holds. But it's time to move on. I want to make something of my life, of our life."
Of our life. Her words echoed in his mind. "Will you forgive me for all I've done Ginny?" he whispered.
"There is nothing to forgive, Draco."
"Yes, there is. I hurt you that night in Hogwarts. The first time you walked back into the school, all those years seemed to disappear. It's all I could do not to touch you."
It was Ginny who willingly moved into his arms, bringing his palm to cup her breast. "Then touch me, Draco." She brought her lips to his, her kiss soft, but he could feel it all the way to his very soul.
Shuddering like a man consumed with fever, Draco wasn't even aware of where and how his hands touched her. He hadn't been with a woman in so long, he couldn't even remember how good it felt, and prayed to the Goddesses that she wouldn't read how very much he wanted her right then and there. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her off. But that had always been his problem when it came to Ginny - control.
His mouth slid along hers, urging her to open to him, gentle yet demanding. She then opened her mouth, kissing him back, moving her tongue with his, her arms now behind him, pulling him closer. Draco's hands skimmed her body relentlessly as their kiss grew deeper. He didn't know when he had started, and how it came to be that Ginny now lay beneath him, one of his legs wedged between hers, tightly pressing against her soft feminine places. His fingers as if working on their own accord, were rapidly undoing the small buttons of her blouse. With the final button released, Draco drew a deep breath; withdrawing from a woman he wanted so much. He gazed at her flushed body heaving silently. Never before had he seen such a beautiful sight! "Tell me no, Ginny. This time, I'll stop. Just tell me no."
No matter how badly his body revealed how much he wanted her, he would stop - though silently he begged for her to let him continue, to feed his undying hunger for her once more.
Instead she slid a hand along his back pressing him closer, "I won't. I promise." Ginny murmured, licking his mouth and tasting him again. Giving him the answer he desired, Draco parted her blouse with one hand. Her breasts, more fuller than he remembered, swelled from the edge of her bra making him burn even hotter. With a flick of his fingers, he unfastened her bra. Draco pushed aside the lacy material and looked down at Ginny. His Ginny. With a feather-light touch, he ran his thumb over one breast, watching in satisfaction as her nipple hardened, a desperate moan escaping Ginny's lips.
He drank in the sight of Ginny, her long red hair to her heavy-lidded brown eyes and her slightly parted mouth. She was just as he had remembered, willing and wanting. Holding her gaze, he lowered his head, covering one tip with his mouth. She arched against him, mewing in pleasure, her hand holding his head in place. "Draco, please."
Ever so slowly, he began kissing and touching her softly, every piece of skin familiar- the curve of her back, the hollow just below her hips, the underside of her breasts. Draco had wanted to stretch every kiss and every caress. Make the moments last forever But the way she touched him had him lost. The sound of his zipper being undone fueled his desire. "We shouldn't be doing this here," Draco whispered even as his own thumbs were hooked in her knickers, peeling them down her slender hips and legs.
"I find this rather exciting." A slow smile curved her face as she lifted her hands to his chest, slowly sliding them lower to the waistband of his trousers, shoving them down impatiently. She licked her lips and trailed butterfly kisses under his jawline, tracing a path down his neck, teasing him. "I have twelve years of wanting."
"As do I," Draco replied, nipping at the creamy smoothness of her neck as he tore his shirt from his shoulders. He wanted her all right. There had been many years of wanting and waiting. Draco wanted to taste and touch every bit of her. But he had to make this good for her; he had to prove he would never hurt her again. He had to make up for what he had done that terrible day at Hogwarts and assure her that she had nothing to be afraid of.
He took his time, holding back his need to give her the pleasure she deserved. He had waited twelve years so what was a few minutes? But when she took his hardness in her hands, stroking him, it was all he could do not to plunge into her. "Not fair." He growled.
He made a promise to himself as he slipped a hand between her thighs that he wouldn't let the past hurt him nor Ginny. Feeling the evidence of her arousal, he thrust his fingers along her moist lips, back and forth, until she began to ride them, grinding wildly.
Ginny whimpered and tossed her head. "Make me remember," she whispered, arching her hips against his hand. "Make love to me, Draco."
No more invitation was needed. He entered her slowly, even when every beat of his heart urged him otherwise. It was torture. Pure torture. He tried to hold back, fighting his inner demons. She deserved better than this, she deserved better than him. His inner battle was not lost on Ginny. She put her arms around him, holding his head on top of hers. "It's okay, Draco," she whispered, brushing his lips as their foreheads touched one another. She pulled at him, thrusting upwards to hurry him. "I want this. I want you."
Draco wanted to prolong the sensation, but hearing her words of encouragement he found his willpower gone. He sheathed himself inside her, his head lolled back in pleasure. "Oh gods, oh gods." It was almost too much. Wonderfully hot and tight. It was like his first time all over again. He could feel the familiar sensation prickling his spine, every nerve ending at fever pitch. After so many years, Draco wanted to savor the feeling, but found himself withdrawing slowly, only to sink back in. Again, again and again. More forceful each time.
Ginny met Draco stroke for stroke, her legs firm and strong around him. She held his face in her hands, kissing him, urging him on. Their slick skin slid against each other, harder and faster.
"Yes," she whimpered, while her nails dug into his back. "Draco!" Her eyes glazed over as she arched up, crying his name over and over.
When he felt her contract around him, he let himself go, thrusting deeper into the warmth and heat that he had dreamt of for twelve long years. Draco's cry of release was met with another of hers, as their world exploded around them, shuddering in the same jolt of pleasure that had eluded them both for so long.
Exhausted, they both fell asleep. When Draco finally awoke awhile later, Ginny was still curled in his arms, her head resting on his chest. He dropped a kiss against her forehead, "I love you, Ginny Weasley." Even though the thought of the Dementor's Kiss was always near, he forced it aside. Dammit. He wasn't going to receive the Kiss. There would be more days and nights filled with lovemaking. He would not lose Ginny and he would not lose his son. When he finally gave into sleep once more, Ginny was there.
Just as she was now.
Just as she would always be.
To be Continued
Ari - means lion in Hebrew
Thanks again to my beta readers Violet Jersey and Rainpuddle. If I haven't told you before, I will tell you again. Go read their stories!
Thanks Violetjersey- You know I love bouncing ideas off you and you giving your input! Thanks for helping me in adding spice to this scene. You are the greatest girl!!!!!! Had I wrote this smut alone it would be boring. But with your collaboration it turned out pretty good for a first timer!
Thanks Rainpuddle - You've been through a lot and I feel so grateful that you are taking time out to beta my fic. In my opinion you are the best D/G writer out there. If any of you readers haven't read Rainpuddles fics, do so now! Thank Merlin that you are on our ship!