Summary: After 10 years overseas, Ginevra Weasley has returned, to a world where everything and everybody has changed, including Draco Malfoy, though he hasn't changed much. But for Draco, Weasleys and success do not go together, at least, not on a Weasleys own accord.
When You Return
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Chapter One
-> Welcome Home
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It had all been an experience, yes, but this would be just one more experience - returning home, to her family, and to everyone she knew before this life.
'Of course I'm leaving!' Ginny said, breaking free of his grasp and continuing to pile shirt after shirt into her suitcase. 'My work here is done, and there's no further use for me here. I'll be flying straight to London tonight, and there is-'
'Gin honey, please!'
'Nothing you can do to stop me.' she finished sharply, giving him quite an icy glare as she passed him to take her several bottles of perfume off the dresser table.
'Well what am I going to do?'
'What do you mean, what are you going to do?' Ginny questioned irritably, placing the perfume bottles quite firmly in the suitcase, then sweeping a pair of dark green robes off the white quilted bed, and putting that in the suitcase too. 'Just go on as you were before I came here!'
'Honey, I can't go on here without you. I thought I meant something to you.' Magnus said, walking closer towards the bed and then sitting down beside the suitcase. Ginny avoided his eyes, still packing her robes into her suitcase firmly.
'You were absolutely fine last night, with... with Signe Bergman!' Ginny snapped, snatching her necklace out of his hand and throwing it upon a pair of black winter robes. 'And don't even begin leaking out the excuses, Magnus, because I saw you! Of course I saw you, seeing that it's... it's all over the front page of the newspaper!'
'It wasn't me, Gin! I swear, it was her!' Magnus exclaimed, his blue eyes following her own soft brown ones, desperate for her to look back at him.
'Oh so she just squeezed in between you and your broomstick, did she?' Ginny proclaimed sarcastically, looking ahead at the wall in front of her. 'Likely story, Magnus. Who else have you had under your bed cover?'
'Gin, nothing happened between us! I'm telling the truth. I'd never lie to you, honey! Honey, come here.''
Ginny snorted, laughing shortly as she fastened the zip to her suitcase. 'It's okay, Magnus. I've had a lot of time to prepare for this. Me and Sweden's most famous Quidditch chaser! Mrs. Magnus Christensen! Ha! Yeah right.'
'Come on Gin, just stay a little bit longer, and I'll make it up to you, somehow!' Magnus pleaded, now grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer. 'I really do love you. All men make mistakes! You told me that yourself!'
'Yes, Magnus, but some make too many.' Ginny said, sliding her wrist from his grasp and taking her suitcase to the door. 'My boss offered me a place back in London a year ago, and I declined, to stay with my oh so beloved, oh so loyal fiancee!'
'But I am loyal!'
'You can have this back, dearest.' She slid her engagement ring off her finger, and thrust it into his hand. 'I think I've been leaving the taxi waiting.'
'Gin, you're being stupid!' Magnus shouted angrily after her, following her as she stormed out of the house. He stood outside the door, the ring clenched in his left fist, as she made her way down the entrance steps, her red high heeled shoes clicking against each step.
'Goodbye, Mr. Christensen.' she called sardonically, as the taxi driver took her suitcase, and opened the door for her.
'You'll come back!'
But the door was already closed, and the door was already shut; the taxi driver climbing into the front seat. He looked back at her, smiled somewhat sympathetically, then started up the car.
She opened up her handbag and pulled out the magazine Magnus had been so reluctant to let her read that morning. He had placed it in the cutlery draw in the kitchen - a stupid place to hide it. It was in Swedish, but Ginny had lived here long enough to understand it. Aktiv, Sweden's most popular Quidditch magazine.
She skimmed through the advertisements on the front page - an advertisement for a watch which told you were the snitch was. Well, that would be useful, if you were allowed to wear watches in a Quidditch game. And then she found it, on the page right after the contents. She read through it, translating it in her head as she went.
World phenomenon Quidditch chaser, Magnus Christensen, seems to have a more intimate relationship with seeker Signe Bergman than expected. It was not until last night that fans' suspicions were confirmed, after the hot, handsome, 26-year-old chaser was seen cornering Bergman between his top of the range Isolt broomstick, Sweden's fastest broomstick since 1998, and publicly displaying his affection for the 21-year-old seeker.
She read on, through the exaggerated story of Magnus' Quidditch abilities, and Signe Bergman's apparent secret love for Magnus, which she had kept disclosed to the public for the past three years. And then she saw her name. She knew she'd have to be mentioned in there somewhere.
The subject of 78% of Swedish witches' desires, Magnus Christensen, fell in love with Ginevra Weasley, from England three years ago. Better known as Ginny, or Gin, to her fiancee, Ginevra came to Stockholm three years ago as an auror, to help in the defence against dark wizards and witches in Sweden. A year later, Magnus announced their engagement, and they have been living together happily for the last two years. 'The day after Magnus met her, he came to Quidditch practice and said he was sure he now knew what true love was', says team mate, Axel Hall. But Signe now says that 'Magnus was never in love with her. It was just something he forced himself to do. Magnus and I have always had feelings for each other, and it broke both of our hearts to know we couldn't be together.'
Ginny scowled at the picture of Signe Bergman. She was poking her tongue out at Ginny, leaning back and laughing. Below was a picture of Ginny and Magnus, Magnus' arms wrapped around her waist. A tear splashed onto the photograph, before she shut it and stuffed it back into her bag.
---
'We really should cover up that fire place. Nobody travels by Floo powder anymore. It is quite out of date.' Narcissa said distastefully. 'It was such a horrid way of traveling anyway. People always came out the other end looking like they hadn't washed for a week. Your father and I never traveled by Floo powder.'
'And I have never traveled by Floo powder either, Mother. I think the existence of it was quite for the use of those such scum as the Weasleys.'
'Yes but I do remember how Mr. Zambini would always turn up by Floo powder. It was rather off-putting. And you would always want to go to his house the same way.'
'Naturally, I would have been curious.'
'Yes, but we soon rubbed that out of you. Now when is Pansy arriving?'
'She should be soon. Her mother has found a photo album from school, and she thinks it might interest you.'
'Yes, her mother and I had quite a nice time at school. I fell in love with Lucius at first sight.'
'As I have heard.' Draco said roughly, before she could continue. It was, however, unnecessary, for at that moment appeared two women, one plump with curly blonde hair, her face smeared with so much makeup that her eyes looked rather small, and a thinner, younger girl, with longer, less curly blonde hair, a rather stuck up nose. She was not slim, but of a full build. However next to her mother she looked a decent amount slimmer.
Draco took her hand and pressed it to her lips. It was no scarce knowledge of Pansy's infatuation for him, however he failed to return her feelings for him, as much as he tried. It was not by his means that they were engaged, but his parents, and her parents. It was something which had been ordered quite forcefully of him, just like most of the other happenings in his life.
'Draco, darling, I was walking with Mother down Diagon Alley, and I found the most beautiful wedding dress. You will come back there and buy it for me, of course, won't you?' she asked in her high-pitched, squealing voice.
'Yes, I suppose I will have to.'
'I should have been very displeased if you had not. But you so usually forget to offer to take me places that I thought I better ask it of you myself.' she said, playing with her diamond engagement ring, which was stuck quite firmly on her chubby finger.
Draco avoided her eyes at this moment, for she was quite incorrect to say he forgot to ask her out to places. It was rather the fact that he avoided it, for he would much rather spend the little time he had before their wedding in liberation of his clingy fiancee. 'I would not want to displease you.' he said instead.
'I know you wouldn't!' she said chirpily.
'Draco, come over here and have a look at this picture of your father.' Narcissa said, her consistent drone ringing through her voice still, though she was smiling and holding out the photo album for him to see. He peered over her at the photograph. It was of his father, smirking at the camera, his silver blonde hair hanging over his shoulders, and his arm curled around his mother's tiny waist. She was half cut out of the picture, every now and again standing on the tip of her toes so that people would see her face. 'Isn't he such a spunk?'
'What do you expect me to say?' Draco asked irritably. 'I am neither female nor gay, Mother. And even if I was to be his daughter, I would not be saying the same thing.'
'Temper, Draco, temper. Don't go unleashing your anger when you have guests over.' She said somewhat teasingly. As he left the room, he heard Narcissa say quietly to Mrs. Parkinson. 'Excuse him, he's been so delicate since his father died. Oh I miss him so much, Georgina!'
Draco didn't miss him. He was, in fact, happier now that he was dead, and gone. It had taken a long time for him to grow out of his admiration for his father. When he was younger, he used to want to be just like his father was and do everything that his father did. Now, he would rather die than live under the identification as 'Lucius' son'.
'Draco, where are you going?' Pansy asked, grasping onto his hand and following him.
'For a walk.'
'I'll come.'
'I want to go alone, Miss Parkinson.'
'Draco we're about to get married and you still don't call me by my first name!'
'I would like to go alone.'
He pulled his hand from hers, quite easily, for she was not strong, and left her at the bottom of the staircase, not looking back at her until he had reached the top. He only saw her back as she disappeared back into the living room. He would not go for a walk, and instead, went into his room, closing the door behind him and turning the key from the inside.
His mother had always treated him like a little boy. For a short while, when he was ten years old, he thought that maybe if she had another child, then she would treat him more grown up, and treat the new child like a baby, just like he thought all mothers were supposed to. By the time he was thirteen, he knew his mother would not have another child. It was just him, Draco, and it always would be.
It was snowing, and there was just one month left before it were Christmas. The grounds of Malfoy Manor were covered in a thick layer of snow. When he was younger, he used to want to roll around in it, and build snowmen, like Blaise Zambini did at school. He had always asked Draco to join in, but he didn't want to, because he didn't know how to build a snowman, because his parents wouldn't let him play in the snow.
From his room he could just see the empty road past the lawns in front of his house. He'd never understood why the lawns were covered in bright and colourful flower beds, because his mother did not like flowers, and his father did whatever Narcissa wanted. Now he knew it was all to look good, and to match their position in society. It was dark now, and the snow looked grey. Draco preferred the snow during the day, when it was white.
He left the window and made his way across to his bed. His room was large, furnished green on the most part. He leant back, his gaze settling above him, where all he could see were the velvet bed hangings.
---
Ginny was to stay at the Leaky Cauldron that night. She hadn't talked to her family for years now, except for the occasional letter from her mother, which she was always late to reply. She knew a lot had changed in the last ten years she'd been overseas. For one thing, she had a great deal of unacquainted family members, but she could never remember their names from her mother's letters.
'Ginny Weasley?' the bald, toothless man who answered the door seemed to much in awe to stand aside to let her enter.
'Yes, it is. How are you, Tom? It has been ages since I last saw you!'
'Yes, why, what a surprise! Come in, Miss Ginny Weasley. But I guess you're married now!'
'No, I'm not married.' she said, smiling forlornly. Tom seemed to find this funny, for he laughed, and slammed his fist down squarely on the bar counter.
'Surely you are married! Well, if not, I'm sure you will be some time soon. I guess you'd be surprised to see me still around. Thought I'd be dead, wouldn't you have?'
Not wanting to say that she had, in fact, assumed he had by now passed away, she told him that the Leaky Cauldron was not imaginable without him as the landlord.
'Thank you, Miss Ginny. Now, I'm quite busy right now, so if I give you a key you'd be able to find your room alright wouldn't you?' Tom asked, having now walked around to the other side of the counter and was rummaging through a box of keys. 'You'd know your way around here by now, unless you've forgotten.'
'No, that's okay, Tom. I'll find my own way up, thanks.' He handed her a key, reading the number 13, bid her good night, and she made her way up the stairway to the rooms above.
The Leaky Cauldron had always been rather damp and gloomy, but it wasn't something you noticed when you were with friends and family members. Now she noticed it. It wasn't so much a lack of cleanliness, but something which hung over the building. Maybe it was the colours. Everything was painted black, or was dully coloured.
Thinking that it was too early to go to sleep now, at 8:30, she put her suitcase inside the room, which hadn't yet been made up, took off her black coat and her dress, which was of Muggle-make. She couldn't go waltzing into an airport dressed in her robes. Muggles seemed to find anything at least a bit suspicious about you and use it against you, so that you couldn't fly.
Taking a simple pair of black robes from her suitcase, she made her way to the bathroom, slipping her legs through first and lifting it to cover her chest, then slipping her arms through the sleeves. They were tight fitting robes, showing off every accentuated curve of her figure. After brushing her auburn red hair again, she went back downstairs.
The Leaky Cauldron was quite empty, but it usually was at this time. Give or take another half an hour and the place would be full. Two wizards were sitting at a table in the corner with a gaunt blonde witch, who was smoking a pipe and tossing a galleon in the air with her other hand. Each wizard was holding cards in their hands, every now and again glaring at each other over the top.
Ginny seated herself down at an empty table, and waited, occupying herself by watching Tom's barn owl preen itself on the window sill across the bill. She ordered a butterbeer from Tom when he next passed, and waited for more people to enter, hopefully a more friendly looking group of people than the three individuals sitting in the corner.
It was only fifteen minutes later when the door swung open, and a tall, thin man, with dirty blonde hair came in, wearing black robes. He made his way over to the counter, where Tom was standing, writing something down with a quill, which had a broken feather. Ginny couldn't help overhearing their conversation.
'Mr. Tom, I was wondering if I could come in tomorrow instead of Saturday to take the photographs.' the man said, pulling up a chair, taking a camera out of his pocket and placing it on the counter.
'Oh, yeah, sure. That's alright with me. Just come after seven, because I have an old friend coming to visit me at six.' Tom said, looking up at the man.
'Sounds good to me, Mr. Tom. Would I be able to book a room for tomorrow night too? Then I can take some pictures in the morning.'
'Yes, Mr. Creevey. That can be organized.'
Ginny leant to the side, trying to get a better view of Mr. Creevey's face. If that was Colin, he had definitely changed since she'd last seen him. Maybe it was his younger brother. No, it can't have been, because he was never as interested in photography, and Colin had always wanted to take up a career in that area.
Mr. Creevey continued to fidget with his camera, and after a while, Ginny stood up and walked over to him. 'Colin?'
'Y-yes?' he turned around, and then grinned rather like he always had, nodding his head twice. 'Ginny? Is that really you?'
'Yes! It's been years, Colin! How are you?'
'I'm g-good, Ginny! And how are you? I haven't spoken to you for ages. Seen you, of course. I've seen you in magazines. I guess you'd be married now, G-Ginny? Married to that Quidditch chaser?'
'No.' Ginny laughed, sitting down next to Colin, who glanced down at her feet rather nervously before looking back up at her. 'We broke up last night. He seemed to have affections for one of his team mates.'
'I'm s-sorry to hear that, Ginny.' he said quickly, his gaze averting back to his camera before dashing back to her face. He was acting rather awkwardly, she thought. He had always had a slight stutter, but he seemed nervous, and looked as if at any second, he would dash out of the Leaky Cauldron.
'Don't be sorry. So, how's life for you now? Are you a photographer, now?'
'Yes, I am. I'm a photographer for the Daily Prophet.' he said, grinning embarrassedly, and looking back at his camera. 'I'm doing quite well, if I may say so myself. I-I...' he cut off, scratching his chin awkwardly. 'I-I'm getting a lot of money. I n-never thought I would.'
'Congratulations!' Ginny said, smiling at him, her head slightly tilted to the side. 'Well, you were always good, and if it's the Daily Prophet you're working for, then I'm sure your paycheck is quite heavy! So are you married yet?' She asked, seeing it seemed to be what everyone was interested in, or maybe it was only if the person in question had been engaged to a famous Quidditch player.
'N-no.' Colin said, blushing profusely. 'The right person hasn't come along yet, I suppose.'
'I know what you mean.' Ginny said, frowning at the thought of Magnus. She wondered what he was doing now. Had he gone to see Signe as soon as she had left?
'Y-you're an auror now, aren't you?'
'Yes, seems to be the perfect job. Lots of money, and I only have to do something about once every three months!' she laughed, pushing forward her empty butterbeer bottle and leaning back slightly.
'But d-don't you get bored?'
'No. There's lots to do when I'm overseas.'
'I g-guess there is.'
Not being able to find anything else to say, Ginny stood up and sighed. 'Well, Colin, I'd better go back up to my room now. I'm pretty tired from the flight back. I guess I'll see you tomorrow morning at breakfast.'
'Y-yes, I hope so.' he said.
'Good night.'
'Good night, G-Ginny.' he said, and she walked behind him and began to walk towards the stairs. 'G-Ginny.' she stopped, and turned around, one hand on the stair railing. 'B-by the w-way, y-you... you look very pretty tonight.' he added quickly.
'Thanks!' she smiled, turned back around, and went back to her room.
---
Pansy had come knocking on Draco's door ten minutes ago. He had at first pretended to be asleep, but when she unlocked the door with her wand, and shook him, he could no longer ignore her.
'Draco, is there something wrong?' she asked, her high-pitched voice softer than usual.
'No, Ms. Parkinson.'
'I feel that to get married, and live happily, you have to share a deep love, that each person returns.' Pansy said, taking his hand in her own. 'My parents weren't deeply in love, and they haven't been happy for their whole lives. I even sometimes think that Mother is happier now that Father is dead.'
'I wish my mother was the same.' Draco said, his eyes still closed. He didn't want to look at her. He didn't want to open his eyes. He wanted to stay in the world behind his eyelids, where his mother, and the memories of his father, did not disturb him.
'At least they loved each other.' Pansy said, and she took his other hand in her's. 'My parents found each other completely intolerable.'
'All that was between my mother and father, Ms. Parkinson, was lust.' he said.
'Draco!' she cried, releasing his hands and clutching his face. 'Just call me Pansy, please!'
'Please let go. I would hate to go to breakfast in the morning with nail marks down my face.'
'Lust is a product of love.'
'Love can exist without lust.' Draco said, as Pansy's hands softened at the sides of his face. She began to massage his neck, her long fingernails scratching softly against his skin.
'But it is not a love worth living for!'
'That opinion depends entirely on a person.' he said, lifting his back up by his shoulder blades in comfort as her fingers edged further down his back.
'But we share the same opinions, darling!'
'What kind of love would that be?'
'Our love!' she exclaimed, kissing him on the neck thrice, her fingers still massaging his neck.
'I would hate to think so.' he said. He still had not opened his eyes, for he did not want to. He did not want to look at his fiancee, because she was just another piece of his bad memories.
'But Draco, there is no love between us!' Pansy stated, speaking more quietly than before.
'Then create love between us, if that is what you so truly desire.'
She felt her hands carefully unbutton his robes and slide behind his neck, beginning to untie the black threaded lace behind his neck. The coldness of the room bit into his bare skin as she pulled the top half of his robes down, sliding her spread palms up his chest and onto his shoulders. Reluctantly he sat up, opening his eyes halfway, and her lips slammed onto his, as he began to unlace her pale pink robes.
He knew she would take what he said the wrong way.