48 Hours

May 20, 2010 - Paris, France

 Dear Harry,

 

I know that we are getting married in just over a week, and I know

this is a horrid time for me to need a break, but I’m in Paris. I know, I should

be at the Burrow helping Mum plan, but . . . I don’t know, I needed to get

away. Hey, at least I can find the perfect wedding dress here. Don’t worry,

I’m not breaking the engagement, and I’m not running away. I’m just -

de-stressing.

 

I’ll be home in two days, I just didn’t want you to freak out when I

don’t show up at the meeting with the minister. Don’t run off with one of

my bridesmaids. Please, don’t tell Mum or Ron I left. They will think I’m

running away. Which I’m not. I love you, and I’ll be home soon.

All my love,

Ginny

I read over my letter to my fiancé one final time before sending it with my owl, Eris. Hopefully, Harry won’t read the doubt going through my mind. I love him, really, just not in the way I think I am supposed to. I don’t think he loves me either.

I walked down the street to this little bridal shop I had seen on my way to breakfast, when I walked into some one. I fell down and the contents of my purse scattered along the sidewalk. I shoved everything in my purse and began to stand when a hand was offered to me.

I took it and stood up. It belonged to a very familiar man, like someone from a memory. I shook my head of the thoughts and smiled at the man.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to walk into you like that.” I offered.

“It’s not a problem.” he answered. The voice seemed vaguely familiar as well.

“If you’ll just excuse me then, I’ll be on my way.” I smiled again and began to walk past him, when he grabbed my arm lightly. The touch sent sparks up my arm.

“Wait. You seem so familiar to me. Do I know you?” he asked, with this strange look in his . . . silver eyes?

“Draco?” I asked. Certain I was mistaken . . . Harry told me he disappeared in the war.

“Yes. Do I know you?” He confirmed and asked again. I gave him a small smile and pulled the chain that contained his ring from under my shirt. “Ginny?” All I could do was nod.

“Where have you been all this time?” I asked. My throat began to close up with emotion.

“Ginny. I’m so sorry.”

“For what? For leaving me? For not coming back? For the months I cried when Harry told me you disappeared? What, Draco?” He looked at me with this pained look, his jaw set.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” I sighed.

“Sure, my hotel is just around the corner.” How could this happen? He disappears from my life, only to show up again in Paris, on my way to get a wedding dress! We arrived at the hotel and I led him up to my room.

“Ginny.” Draco began. I held my hand up as I spotted my wedding planner sitting open on my bed. I picked it up and shoved in the night stand. I didn’t want him to know just yet.

“Answer my question.” I sat down and avoided looking in his eyes. I could always get lost in those eyes.

“I’ve been here. And Florence, Athens, Geneva, Berlin, Madrid. Everywhere but London. I got captured by my father near the end of the war. I had escaped and was on my way back to Headquarters when Potter beat Voldemort. I came back for you, or I started to.”

“Why didn’t you then? I needed you.” I looked up into my mirror and our eyes locked.

“Potter.”

“Harry? What did he have to do with this?” His eyes widened in realization.

“Can we not talk about this now?”

“Why? You disappear on me for ten years, and expect me to wait for an answer? I don’t have time for this! I’m going home in two days. I have to get . . .” I stopped abruptly and looked away.

“You have to get what, Gin?”

“You know what? Let’s not talk about this right now.”

“Ok, then. We’ll keep our secrets. So, where were you headed when you ran into me?” I stopped to think. I couldn’t tell him I was going to buy my wedding dress . . . I’m not ready to lose him again. I glanced at my watch.

“Uh, lunch. I was headed to lunch.” He gave me that sexy smirk of his that said he knew I was lying.

“Want company?”

“Sure.” He held out his arm, and I laced mine threw his.

To Be Continued . . .