CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - Solitude
She had thought, when it was all said and done, she would feel as though the proverbial weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Ginny thought it over as she made a rough sketch of the section of the hospital where the new wing would be added; she supposed she did feel as though a weight had been lifted.
The only difficulty was, that weight… was Harry.
She'd successfully avoided thinking about Draco, for the most part, but she had to be realistic. If she was going to be handling the Ministry side of the hospital addition, she would have to interact with him, or at the very least, his people.
Draco Black Malfoy, she wrote across the top of the page, insisting it was for record-keeping purposes. He was funding that wing, after all, and it would likely be named for him.
"I had an idea it was bad, but I didn't realize you were already to the point of putting his name all over your books." The voice was female, faltering, and clearly trying for levity.
Hermione never had been able to joke in the ways that had been inherent to the Weasleys.
Ginny felt her shoulders stiffen, more out of habit than actually anxiety, and forced herself to relax. "Hermione," she greeted as she turned. "I figure if a man gives enough money to expand the hospital, his name can go on the documents." When Hermione said nothing, only fidgeted and made her discomfort apparent, Ginny cleared her throat. "What brings you by the hospital, then? Is everyone all right?" It shouldn't have felt so awkward, she thought, for once they'd been close.
"Just ending a guarding shift," Hermione answered, her voice immediately strengthening. She could talk about work; work was easy. "We caught a wizard trying to exhume Voldemort's remains. Stunned him a little harder than we should have, I guess, so they've had to keep him here." She flushed. "Sorry. I'm sure Ron's warned you how boring my Auror stories are getting."
Ginny smiled, both surprised and pleased that it felt genuine. "That wasn't one of the things Ron warned me about." At Hermione's startled look, she sighed. It simply had to be mentioned-they couldn't pretend Harry didn't exist at all. "Hermione, you and Harry-"
Hermione's eyes grew wide and she shook her head, interrupting Ginny with an outstretched hand. "No, no, no," she said. "What did Ron tell you? We're not together. Not like that."
Ginny grabbed the hand Hermione still held up in a "stop" gesture and pressed it gently between her hands. "'Mione. 'Not like that,' or 'Not like that yet'?"
Hermione looked completely and utterly miserable. "I don't think this is appropriate," she finally managed. "It's just… he deserves to be happy, Gin, and you made him so terribly unhappy."
"If I hadn't made him unhappy, do you think he'd even be able to look at you?" It came out a bit sharper than she'd intended, and Ginny winced in unison with Hermione. "I made him unhappy so he could figure out what would make him happy." She looked at the witch standing across from her and she knew in her heart that Hermione had always been a better idea than her. She'd always been a better choice. "All I ever wanted was for him to be happy," she said, feeling her throat tighten a bit.
"Me too."
Ginny moved to one side of the hallway, not wanting to have this discussion in the middle of a hospital, not really sure she even wanted to have it at all, but knowing she had to. When Hermione followed, Ginny ran a hand through her hair and started speaking before she could lose her nerve, before Hermione could get on a tangent and spend the whole day. "From the moment you and Harry stepped into mine and Ron's lives, all I can remember was that I was supposed to be with Harry and you were supposed to be with Ron. And it seemed to be okay-Ron would have given you the moon and the stars back at school, and you know that, and so there we were, Harry and Ginny. Things just aren't that neat, Hermione. Harry and I didn't work, and you and Ron-"
"Could never have worked," Hermione supplied. "He needs someone who consumes him, and I just can't do that." Her face, Ginny thought, was going to be burned if she flushed any harder.
She made a mental note to ask Ron what the hell that was supposed to mean, exactly.
"It's all right," Ginny said, half to herself, surprised that she could say it. "Hermione, things work out like they're supposed to."
So how, Ginny thought, had the whole mess with Malfoy 'worked out'? It didn't bear thinking on. It was simply over, and that was how it was supposed to have worked out.
But ever a believer in practicality, Hermione was already trying to make things 'work out' for everyone. Part of it was the need to assuage her own guilt, but part of it was the camaraderie she and Ginny had once shared insisting Ginny shouldn't be alone. "You know, Ginny, there are plenty of wizards out there-good ones," she qualified, thinking of the fuss over Draco Malfoy. "I still keep in touch with Nev, you know."
Making amends, Ginny thought, certainly didn't mean mending flaws. There were few things more embarrassing than a happily attached witch trying to happily attach you to anyone and everyone at her disposal. "I think I need to be alone for a while, Hermione. Just… let it be."
She stepped forward, pressing her cool cheek to Hermione's warm one. "Thank you for being the one he needs," Ginny said. "I don't think I could stand it if it were anyone else."
When Ginny had headed down the hall, Hermione was left with one hand laid to her cheek, wondering how she'd ever hated her old friend.
~~~
The first two weeks of being alone were always the hardest, or so it had been said.
Ginny had already had her two weeks after Harry, so she didn't know why that was crossing her mind now. Of course, nearly two weeks had passed since she'd pushed Draco out of her flat and out of her life, but that wasn't the same. It didn't matter that she'd left his book on the floor where he'd dropped it, or that the box of lingerie still perched precariously on her end table, tissue paper still obscuring the things he'd bought her.
It didn't matter that she hadn't had the heart to look at any of them-his exit hadn't signified her solitude, so the two week mark meant nothing.
But she dressed with extra care nonetheless on that twelfth morning, the same morning she was to make an official announcement on behalf of the Ministry regarding the Malfoy wing of the hospital.
Professionalism, she told herself, turning her back to the mirror and craning her neck to inspect the unfamiliar lines of the plum-colored suit she'd donned. She wasn't accustomed to leaving so much of her legs showing for work, but robes had grown passé for such formal announcements.
She'd have really preferred the security robes afforded her.
She looked at herself in the mirror once more before she left, and was satisfied with what she saw. She looked competent, confident, and calm.
She didn't look like she missed him at all.
~~~
He stepped back from the door of the wardrobe, narrowing his eyes at his reflection in the full-length mirror. He'd just had the suit tailored last month; why it looked large in places, he couldn't really understand. Sure, he hadn't been eating as well as he ordinarily did, but he'd simply been busy, that was all.
The reward for his hard work was a desk completely clear of pending documents and contracts. There wasn't a blessed thing to read, to sign, to approve. There weren't any mergers to be made, any flagging companies to acquire. All he had to do today was go and make nice at the Ministry, and then he could finally go home and sleep in his own bed instead of sleeping on the couch.
Or maybe he'd have some more work that had piled up in his absence. He didn't really mind the couch all that much.
"The baggy look defeats the purpose of choosing a suit over a robe." Pansy strode into his office uninvited, keeping her face completely composed so he couldn't see how worried she was. She'd even taken to coming in early and leaving late, travesty of all travesties, just to see if perhaps she could outlast him. But he was a permanent fixture these days, and she was at her wits' end trying to figure out what to do about it.
She stepped behind him, running her hands over his suit and plucking at the points where a little fabric had gathered. "Darling, if you get much thinner, I'll have to stop fantasizing about you altogether."
"You'll use any excuse to get your hands on me," Draco said, slapping her hand away and working hard to avoid getting those tangerine talons buried in his hand. "I've not lost any weight, but feel free to stop fantasizing about me at any point."
She walked around him, trailing her hand over her shoulder and his chest, pausing a bit when she almost couldn't fight the urge to slap him upside his head for being such a stubborn ponce. "Speaking of bags, my love, you may want to cast a bit of a glamour under those eyes. The dark circles don't compliment that lovely gray."
"If you think I look so untoward, Pansy, feel free to go for me. I've hardly the time or the inclination to go watch people pretend they've anything to do with a project I funded and instigated." She'd hardly be presentable in the orange suit she'd somehow pried over her curves, but he couldn't keep the tiniest note of hope from his voice as he said it.
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you know me. I'd never manage to say the right thing. Besides, there will be plenty of people there who want to see Draco Malfoy." She sauntered toward the door, casting a glamour at him over her shoulder as she did so, knowing he would be too proud to do it.
She paused for a moment once she'd shut his door behind her, taking a deep breath. She wanted to cry. She wanted to send owls. She wanted to meddle, damn it.
Having willpower was hard.