Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note: Well, this is the last chapter already written, so from now on, updates will be at the same time here as at other archives. Thanks to all who've read and reviewed, and thanks to where_is_truth for the encouragement to keep going when writing this story feels like trying to run through peanut butter. Um, anyway, enjoy the chapter.

***

He was as beautiful as ever - that was the first thought Ginny could form. He hadn't heard her arrival, so she had a few seconds to try, fail, and try again to gain a measure of composure. It was laughable to try; she would fail forever. There were no defenses she could build that he couldn't break, whether with a word, or a glance, or a single breath.

As he turned around and found her there, she was thinking how pointless it was, the idea of walls. She'd constructed them, hidden behind them, and it hadn't helped. She hadn't been able to forget, and when his grey eyes locked on hers, she couldn't remember why she'd even tried.

He stretched out a hand, and if Ginny had had any remaining reservations, the look of tentative disbelief in his eyes would have shattered them. Her hand reached for his, and then they were touching. Touching, her mind caroled, glorying in the sensation. Touching. His fingers curled around hers tightly, as if he needed to prove she was real.

"Hi," she murmured softly. It seemed inadequate as a greeting, and it was, but there was so much to say and she was spinning too quickly to think of a better start.

His gaze was still fixed on her face, pinning her to the spot where she stood as surely as if he'd cast Petrificus Totalus. She couldn't move, could barely breathe, while she waited to see what he would do.

He paused a beat, arching one of those pale gold eyebrows at her, before the corners of his mouth tilted up. The doubt and the tension fell away from his face, and he looked so relaxed - so happy - that Ginny was sure no one but her would have recognized him in that moment. She felt a slight tug and realized he was pulling her hand toward him, and his lips had already brushed her knuckles before she'd guessed what was happening.

And then he leaned down so that his mouth was nearly touching her ear, and she heard his voice for the first time in two years.

"Hi."

***

He kept holding her hand after he'd kissed it. Her left hand firmly clasped in his right formed a vital connection he wasn't willing to break. It was only after his fingertips had traced every inch of her palm that he realized something was missing. He looked down at the slim white fingers, and noticed a distinct lack of ornamentation.

"Where's your ring?" Surely Potter had to have given her a ring. Had she taken it off before coming? Was it at her flat, tucked into a drawer or hidden under a pillow? Before he could worry about where he stood with the woman he loved, he had to know.

Ginny started, dragging her eyes from his face down to her own hand. "I don't know," she said honestly, shrugging. "Last time I saw it, it was sailing out my living room window."

This time both of Draco's eyebrows shot upward, but he simply nodded. "Lovers' quarrel?" he asked, trying to sound mild.

Ginny eyed him carefully, considering her response. "He found me opening your card. With the dress," she clarified, gesturing at herself. Draco followed the motion and swept his gaze over her, taking in the full effect of his gift for the first time.

He'd known he'd chosen well, but the dress looked far different now that it was draped over his favorite curves. It had pleased him to select the dress, knowing that it suggested enough that other men would go mad wondering what was underneath. He already knew.

She was so fair he wondered if his touch would leave fingerprints on her skin. Tempting thought, to leave his mark everywhere he touched her - but unnecessary, really, since he planned to touch everywhere.

When he looked up, she was watching him, a smile playing over her lips. With anyone else, he might have - would have - minded his intentions being so transparent, but he'd stopped trying to hide from Ginny

***

For her part, Ginny was comforted, in some small way, that she could still tell what he was thinking. But though she was glad to see the heat in his eyes, it unsettled her ever so slightly. Two years. It was a long time, and she wanted to fall straight into his arms and never leave, but she thought a bit of restraint might be in order.

Just a bit, though.

Maybe a little light conversation would do the trick. She was nervous and not thinking clearly, because rational thought would not have led her to ask Draco, in a light, breezy tone, "So, how've you been?"

It was worse than inane - it was thoughtless. Easily the stupidest thing she'd ever said, and possibly the stupidest thing anyone had ever said. But once again, she couldn't take back the words.

Draco let the silence hang in the air for a moment, and then he turned silently and walked out of the room.

Ginny gaped after him. Not possible. Not possible that she'd already messed this up, had already ruined the second chance he was giving her. She wanted to cry, or scream, or run after him and fall at his feet ... anything that might undo the damage of her words.

By the time she'd decided on running after him, he was striding back into the room with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. Ginny stared at him, not comprehending, and he raised an eyebrow.

"If I'm going to tell you how I've been," he said wryly, filling a glass and handing it to her, "then we definitely need wine."

Draco filled his own glass and took an inelegant gulp, draining half its contents. When he set it down on the coffee table, Ginny noticed an almost imperceptible tremor in his hand. He saw her notice and shrugged.

"Comes and goes," he said casually, and Ginny flinched, wondering if it was her fault, wondering what other pain she'd caused him. "Stop that," he added sharply, glaring at her. "Don't feel sorry for me. You asked me a question, and I'm going to answer it. You're going to listen, and when I'm done, it's your turn to answer."

She nodded mutely, settling her hands in her lap and lacing her fingers together. She thought she saw a flicker of amusement in Draco's eyes at her proper posture, but she ignored it and waited for him to speak.

When he did, she wished once again that she hadn't asked the question.

***

He wasn't sure he could do this, but he was sure he didn't want to. He didn't want her pity or need her apologies, and he knew it would shatter him to see those big brown eyes well up with tears while he was talking. He needed Ginny to be strong for a little longer, and then they could be each other's strength. But for now, he had a question to answer.

"I've been fine," Draco offered as a starting point, watching as Ginny's eyes narrowed and her mouth opened to contradict him. He held up a hand, gently waving her silent, and went on.

"I've been fine, if fine means I haven't slept an entire night through in two years. If it means that I haven't been whole, maybe not even half, and that even when I'm awake, I'm half asleep. I don't know what I've been, really. I know I'm missing pieces, important ones, and I've tried to find them, fit them back into place.

"It didn't work," he told her seriously, somewhat amazed to be making these confessions so baldly. But pride had no place here - it would only push her away. And all he wanted to do was pull her closer. "It was never going to work without you. Either I didn't know how to let go, or I just didn't want to."

Ginny was staring at him, wide-eyed, with her mouth agape. He tried to curve his lips into a smirk, but the result was a disarming, lopsided smile.

"Like I said," he finished, taking a deep breath and letting the scent of the candles - her scent - calm him, "I've been fine."

***

Crying would be the wrong thing to do. He would hate that - might hate her for that. So Ginny bit her lower lip very firmly and listened. Before he was finished, she had to resort to digging her nails into her sides, and she could taste a trace of blood on her lip, but her eyes were dry.

"Your turn," he said. "Same question."

She nodded slowly, taking a moment to decide where to start before she thought to mimic Draco.

"I've been fine," she said, the words coming out in a soft whisper. "If fine means pretending to be sick those first few weeks, because I couldn't stand to see anyone. And if people who are fine dream of the lover they left, dream of him each and every night for two years, then I've never been better."

She broke off, struggling to stay in control, but no amount of physical pain would have prevented these tears from falling.

"I was wrong, Draco," Ginny whispered brokenly. "I shouldn't have … I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I don't even know how you can look at me, after what I've put you through."

Her hands flew up to cover her face, and she began to sob, consumed with guilt and loss, even though the man she loved was a mere arm's length away. Even if they managed to work this out, it would be hard to think of the time she had cost them without enormous regret. So much pain … all her fault.

She felt him settle next to her on the couch, and his hands quickly pried her fingers away from her face. "Stop that," he told her again, sounding pained. "Ginny, stop. Look at me."

She was afraid to look, afraid of what she might see in his eyes, but something in his voice … She took a long, shuddering breath and looked up.

So much raw emotion was contained in his gaze, but what overwhelmed her was the love she saw there - love, and a total lack of recrimination. Draco was looking at her as if she was the only person who had ever mattered to him, as if she was the only one who ever would. When she looked back at him, she could believe her mistakes didn't matter here. She needed to believe that, and those silver-grey eyes were flooding her with hope.

"How can you?" she choked out. "How can you still …" Draco cut her off, placing a finger on her lips, leaning forward until their faces were inches apart.

"Because I love you," he murmured. "Isn't that reason enough?" He folded her into his arms, holding her tightly, and she nodded against his cheek in reply. He was right. It was enough.

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